Ancient Cultures at Monash University: Proceedings of a Conference held between 18-20 October 2013 on Approaches to Studying the Ancient Past 9781407314266, 9781407343846

Citation preview

BAR S2764 2015

Ancient Cultures at Monash University

Cox Et Al (Eds) Ancient Cultures at Monash University

B A R 2764 Hamilton et al cover.indd 1

Proceedings of a Conference held between 18–20 October 2013 on Approaches to Studying the Ancient Past Edited by

Jessica Cox Caleb R. Hamilton Katherine R. L. McLardy Amy J. Pettman David Stewart

BAR International Series 2764 2015 03/09/2015 09:31:37

Ancient Cultures at Monash University Proceedings of a Conference held between 18–20 October 2013 on Approaches to Studying the Ancient Past Edited by

Jessica Cox Caleb R. Hamilton Katherine R. L. McLardy Amy J. Pettman David Stewart

BAR International Series 2764 2015

ISBN 9781407314266 paperback ISBN 9781407343846 e-format DOI https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407314266 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

BAR

PUBLISHING

Contents

Editors’ Preface������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� iii Papers presented at Ancient Cultures at Monash University����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� v Religion and Ritual Remembering the Practicalities of Meeting Human Needs: A Southern Italian Folk Tradition with Roots in Ancient ‘Magic’ Practices����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 3 Liberata Luciani Thesmophorian Influences in Rome: Interrelations between the Thesmophoria and the Festival for Bona Dea, the Sacrum Anniversarium Cereis, and the Ieiunium Cereris��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 11 Katherine R. L. McLardy Rome, Chios, Cyzicus and Miletus: the Intercultural Value of the Roman Foundation Myth in the Second Century BCE����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 19 Jonathan Ratcliffe Textual Analysis Aspects of the Judiciary in the Egyptian Old Kingdom���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 29 Caleb R. Hamilton Receiving Sappho’s Erotic Moon – A Very Literary Affair����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 39 Tom Sharkie Method and Theory Predynastic Female Figurines: A Reappraisal of the El-Ma’Mariya Corpus��������������������������������������������������������������������� 47 Ryna Ordynat Approaches to Lithic Analysis: The Assemblage from Mut al-Kharab����������������������������������������������������������������������������� 57 Sarah M. Ricketts Distribution and Trade From Nubia to the Levant: The Distribution of Predynastic Egyptian Decorated Ware in Space and Time��������������������� 71 Jessica Cox Beyond the Fayum: The Development of Egypt’s Western Oases during the Ptolemaic Period�������������������������������������� 79 James C. R. Gill Material Culture North Sinai during the LBA IIB-EIA: Preliminary results for Way of Horus analysis����������������������������������������������������� 89 Stuart Ibrahim New evidence from the Third Intermediate Period temple at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis������������������������������������������ 97 Richard J. Long ‘Ain al-Gazzareen: New evidence for the earliest phases of occupation������������������������������������������������������������������������� 113 Amy J. Pettman

i

Editors’ Preface

The conference for Ancient Cultures at Monash University (ACMU) took place between October 18th and 20th, 2013 at Monash University, Melbourne� The initiative for this stemmed from the introduction of a new Bachelor of Arts major in Ancient Cultures in the Faculty of Arts at Monash University� This combined the disciplines of archaeology, ancient history, classical studies and indigenous studies� Staff within the Centre for Ancient Cultures, especially Associate Professor Colin A� Hope, encouraged by the development of this new major, approached the postgraduate students within the Centre for Ancient Cultures with the idea of a student-run conference that focused on the wide range of disciplines that engage with ancient cultures at Monash University in Melbourne� As such, it was felt that a conference that had a particular focus on research undertaken by current and recently-completed postgraduate students at Monash would help to facilitate, celebrate and showcase this wide range of research in different disciplines� The purpose of the inaugural conference, therefore, was to provide a forum for postgraduate students to discuss their research and to open dialogue between students of different disciplines in an encouraging environment� The conference and its subsequent proceedings were completely organised by a committee of doctoral and masters students from the Centre for Ancient Cultures� It is envisaged that the conference will be an on-going event through the Centre of Ancient Cultures at Monash University� The conference attracted students from the Centre for Ancient Cultures, the Centre for Religious Studies and the Department of Philosophy, all within the School of Philosophical, Historical and International Studies� Students also presented from Italian Studies and Chinese Studies within the School of Languages, Literatures, Cultures and Linguistics (LLCL)� The diversity of papers that were presented illustrates the important role that the study of ancient cultures plays within the research environments at Monash University� A full list of papers presented at the conference is included in the current volume� We were fortunate to have two guest speakers for the ACMU conference with the keynote presentation given by Dr Yann Tristant, lecturer in the Department of Ancient History at Macquarie University in Sydney and the Director for the Macquarie University/Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale (IFAO) excavations at both Abu Rawash and Wâdî ‘Araba, Egypt� A closing presentation was given by Dr Nicola Aravecchia, a Research Affiliate at the Institute for the Study of the Ancient World, New York University, and the Archaeological Field Director for the New York University excavations at Ain el-Gedida in Dakhleh Oasis, Egypt� The editors would like to express sincere thanks for the contribution of several people who made the conference possible� The Dean of the Faculty of Arts, Professor Rae Frances provided funding for the keynote presentation by Dr Tristant� The editors would like to thank staff from the Centre for Ancient Cultures who agreed to chair sessions during the conference, including Associate Professor Colin A� Hope, Dr Gillian Bowen, Dr Ashten Warfe, and Dr Andrea Di Castro� The organisation of the conference benefited through the assistance of Dr James Gill, Miss Johanna Petkov, Mrs Sarah Keel and Mrs Kellie Youngs� The conference was also made possible through funding and with the assistance of the Egyptology Society of Victoria, the Centre for Ancient Cultures, and the Monash Postgraduate Association, all of which enabled the organising committee to hire conference facilities and catering for presenters and attendees� The editors would also like to thank and acknowledge Associate Professor Colin A� Hope, for his assistance with funding the colour images within this volume� The proceedings in this volume are a collection of 12 of the papers presented at the conference that have been selected for publication through a system of double-blind peer review� We are extremely grateful to the anonymous reviewers for their careful and critical examination of the papers and for those who provided useful comments and suggestions to the authors� These have been incorporated into the final versions of the papers where possible� The editors also wish to acknowledge the effort and patience of the authors during the review and publication process� Special thanks are also given to the publishers at BAR for their help in producing this volume� The Editors

iii

Papers presented at Ancient Cultures at Monash University

Distribution Patterns

Mortuary Archaeology

Cox, Jessica From Nubia to the Levant – The Distribution of Predynastic Egyptian Decorated Ware.

Petkov, Johanna Child and infant burials in New Kingdom Egypt – a Gurob case study.

Gill, James Analysing Distribution Patterns for Ptolemaic Period Sites in Dakhleh Oasis.

Approaches to Myth Stewart, David Dying and Reviving: Aspects of the myth of Osiris in the Tale of the Two Brothers.

Civic Lifestyle McLardy, Kate Thesmophorian Influences in Rome: One, Two or Three Festivals?

Ratcliffe, Jonathan Rome, Pergamum, Miletus: Nicander of Colophon and the Intercultural Value of the Roman Foundation Myth in Second Century BCE Anatolia.

Garland, David Politics and the Economy in Ptolemaic Egypt.

Material Culture

Jayasinghe, Anuradhi Proclus on the role of catharsis in the education of ideal citizens.

Pettman, Amy Determining the date of the establishment of Ayn al-Gazzareen, Dakhleh Oasis.

Hamilton, Caleb Aspects of the Judiciary during the Egyptian Old Kingdom.

Ordynat, Ryna The Female Form: Examining the Function of Predynastic Female Figurines from the Badarian to the Late Naqada II Periods.

Textual Analysis

Ricketts, Sarah Methodological Approaches to Lithic Analysis at Mut al-Kharab.

Joyce, Steve Growth or decay? A prophetic reading of Gildas’s De Excidio Britanniae. Lu, Yanying Conceptual Metaphors in the Dao de jing.

Long, Richard New evidence from the Third Intermediate Period temple at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis.

Military Archaeology

Classical Reception

Dixon, Rebecca The Relationship of the Frontier: Exploring the Interaction between Egyptian Uronarti and the C-Group.

Sharkie, Tom The Literary Affair of the Erotic Moon – Tracing the Theme from Sappho to Ritsos. Luciani, Liberata Remembering the Practicalities of Meeting Human Needs: A Southern Italian Folk Tradition with Roots in Ancient ‘Magic’ Practices.

Ibrahim, Stuart North Sinai during the Late Bronze Age to Early Iron Age: Preliminary results for ‘Ways of Horus’ analysis.

Di Benedetto, Jessica Marston and the Lie-Detector - Myth as historical precedent.

Healey, Emmeline Uncovering the evidence for the Amarna Period armed forces in the architecture and infrastructure of ancient Amarna.

v

Religion and Ritual

Remembering the Practicalities of Meeting Human Needs: A Southern Italian Folk Tradition with Roots in Ancient ‘Magic’ Practices Liberata Luciani Abstract This article focuses on a collection of southern Italian folk charms which present strong similarities with the magical inscription on a second-century amulet found in a Roman tomb at Carnuntum in eastern Austria. The analysis of this particular collection of folklore connected with ancient magic shows that similar folk traditions, which have a clear practical function in reality, are passed down through the ages and across cultures because they address the same, basic human needs. These needs become emphasised by geographical and environmental specificities which are often also reflected in the folklore.

Introduction

According to De Martino, such archaic and backward conditions forced people to lead a life of ‘psychological misery’. In fact, De Martino (2008, 89) goes as far as saying that the maintenance of Lucanian magic practices, which include the recitation of folk charms passed down orally, was essentially due to;

In his seminal study, Sud e magia (South and magic, first published in 1959), well-known ethno-anthropologist Ernesto de Martino includes several ‘magic’ folk texts which are referred to as charms or incantations against the malo vento or ill wind (De Martino 2008, 29-31). De Martino mentions that these oral folk texts against the ill wind, recited in different towns of the southern Italian region of Lucania or Basilicata, are connected, on a linguistic level, with the magical text inscribed on an amulet found in a third-century Roman sarcophagus at Carnuntum, in Lower or eastern Austria (De Martino 2008, 105-106). Roy Kotansky (1994, 58-59) maintains that this Carnuntum magical text, on a rolled-up silver lamella discovered in 1922, predates the Roman sarcophagus and is to be assigned to the early second century or perhaps to the late first century C.E. This suggests that the amulet with the magical inscription emerged around the time of the beginnings of the Roman settlement at ancient Carnuntum. Thus, it is possible that the amulet was brought to that area by the Romans who first camped there.

the precariousness of the basic necessities of life, the uncertainty of future prospects […] the lack of welfare services, the harshness of the struggle within the context of a backward, agrarian economy […].1 This prompts an important question, especially when we consider that the Lucanian charms connected with the Carnuntum magical inscription were passed down across time and cultures and that some parts of these folk texts are still spontaneously recited in different southern Italian communities. Are De Martino’s reasons for the continued use of these charms, what really motivates the recitation of them? De Martino also maintains that the southern Italian folk charms against various ailments, including those against the ill wind, are ‘always’ (as he claims) successful on a psychological, protective level and that, on a psychosomatic level, they can even facilitate recovery (De Martino 2008, 31). This idea that some southern Italian folk traditions help recovery is also a finding of a study by cultural psychologist Giacomo Chiara (2011, 132145). However, De Martino’s statement regarding the charms being successful seems to contradict the reasons, quoted above, which he provides to explain the charms’ maintenance. After all, if a charm works, would its maintenance and recitation not be motivated by the simple reason that it works, regardless of whether the society in which it is found may be ‘backward’? This raises other important questions. Are the ill-wind charms passed down, through the ages and across cultures, because they address basic human needs which tend to be universal? 2 And could

Originally, Carnuntum was a well-established military camp which subsequently developed westward to include a civilian community (Kotansky 1994, 58). By the third century C.E., Carnuntum had already become an important Roman settlement on the Danube. It was situated where the ancient Amber Road connected central and northern Europe with Egypt, Asia Minor, and Syria, at a time when the Roman Empire encompassed all of the regions around the Mediterranean Basin. Consequently, Carnuntum, as a commercial hub, also operated as a cradle of cultural exchanges between different groups of people from all over the Roman Empire and the countries with which the Romans traded. It comes as no surprise, therefore, that the text of the Carnuntum amulet as analysed by Alfonse Barb (1966, 2-6) can be traced back to ancient Mesopotamian cultures. However, this correspondence of elements from different ancient cultures, including that of the Carnuntum charm, with the southern Italian charms against the ill wind is used by De Martino (2008, 105-107) as yet another piece of evidence which highlights the archaic and backward conditions of the southern Italian region of Lucania.

  The English translation from De Martino’s text in Italian (August 2014).   On the universality of basic human needs which extend across space, time, and culture (such as the physiological needs, the safety needs, the belongingness and love needs, the esteem needs, and the need for selfactualization), see the theoretical framework developed by Abraham

1 2

3

Liberata Luciani it be, then, that some elements of these textual charms are culturally independent?

‘Onto So-and-So you must not go for that is baptized flesh. You must go in a faraway wood where one can hear No bells ringing, No Christians [or people] going by, [And] no cocks crowing’.

In order to answer these questions, I will compare and contrast the texts of some of the southern Italian folk charms (which are still largely unstudied) with that of the magical inscription on the amulet unearthed in Carnuntum. The objective is to identify the elements that are important enough to be preserved and propagated, across cultures, from ancient through medieval to modern times, and to determine the relative significance of geographical, historical and cultural specificities in the evolution of these charms over time.

The nursery-rhyme structure, which aids memory recall, and the dialogue form of the original dialect text (translated above) are much like the Carnuntum charm or spell (see Kotansky 1994, 59-60). In the Lucanian charm above, the cause of migraine (against which this incantation is recited) is, evidently, the ‘ill wind’ which is ordered to go in a deserted and far away wood.

The Southern Italian Folk Charms with Roots in Ancient Magic Practices

In a shorter version of this charm with only four rhyming verses, which is recited in the town of Pisticci situated in the same Lucanian province, the ‘ill wind’, described as ‘cursed’, is simply ordered to go drown in the sea (De Martino 2008, 30). This idea of the ‘cursed’ wind ordered to drown in the sea recalls Mark 4: 39 and 5: 8-13. In these biblical verses, after rebuking the wind and ensuring that the sea remains still, Jesus orders a group of evil spirits to come out of a Gerasene man and enter a herd of swine which, subsequently, drowns in the sea. This biblical connection of the Pisticci spell suggests that the maintenance of the Lucanian charms, such as they are, may be due to religious beliefs (e.g. the belief in Jesus and in the ability of performing miracles in his name) rather than to the reasons provided by De Martino (2008, 89), which, as quoted earlier, revolve around the archaic and backward conditions of an under-developed Lucania. Aside from the possible religious influence, the shorter version of the Lucanian charm (mentioned above) focuses essentially on redirecting the ‘ill wind’ and not on, for example, changing the air temperature, for which an air conditioner would be sufficient.

As stated previously, the southern Italian folk charms reported by De Martino (2008, 29-31) from the region of Basilicata, also called Lucania, all mention the evil or ‘ill wind’. These charms exhibit linguistic similarities with the Carnuntum magical inscription which goes back to the early second century C.E.. The text of one of the southern Italian charms against the ill wind, which have been translated from the Lucanian dialect version reported by De Martino (2008, 29), and can be found below. This charm, according to De Martino, is individually recited by either a magara (charmer)3 or by the person affected by the ill wind, in the Lucanian town of Ferrandina. It is important to note that Ferrandina, which emerged as part of Magna Graecia (approx. eighth century B.C.E.), is situated on the Collina Materana (Hill of Matera) where the climate is characterised by very hot summers. According to Oliver Sacks M.D. (1985, 153, 157), hot weather and particular types of wind often act as triggers of migraine attacks. Interestingly, the charm below is recited specifically against migraine, although it can also be used against urticaria or nettle-rash (which is usually caused by an allergy that can also be triggered by the wind).4

Moreover, within the southern Italian context, the act of ‘charming’ (i.e. reciting a charm against what can cause harm or disease) is perceived as a useful and positive act which is often carried out in the name of God or Jesus. In standard Italian, the word for ‘charm’ is scongiuro which refers to a formula or prayer to remove or avert harm or danger, often in the name of God. Thus, in southern Italy, there is the perception that charms have practical application and this contributes to their maintenance, especially when the charms can be readily remembered because of their simple, rhyming structure (on ‘Charms in memory’ see Roper 2004, 61-78).

‘Ill wind, where do you come from? Ill wind, where are you going?’ ‘I am going onto So-and-So’.

Maslow (1998, 169-188). 3   ‘Charmer’ is used to refer to the person who knows and recites the charm and who, in so doing, is able to ‘block’ or ‘lift’ harm or disease (see Roper 2004, 91-93). As found during the course of fieldwork in southern Italy, the word magara is hardly used nowadays, as it carries the negative connotation of a ‘witch’ who is able to cast spells in order to harm others. Thus, people tend to replace magara with expressions such as ‘a person who can charm’ or ‘a person who knows how to charm’. In the southern Italian region of Calabria, the dialect verb ciarmare (from the French verb charmer) is still used by the folk to refer to lifting or blocking harm or disease by reciting a charm, against what is perceived as the cause of past or future harm (e.g. wind, electric storms, the evil eye, snakes, etc.). 4   In the case of nettle-rash, whilst reciting the text of the incantation, the charmer also applies ‘holy’ water to the affected area (De Martino 2008, 29-31). The sufferer wears his clothes inside-out and, subsequently, whilst reciting the charm, he leaves his clothes outside in the dew of night. It is practicalities such as these (i.e. applying cold water and wearing fresh clothes) which also help recovery from the temporary skin rash.

Although the Pisticci version does not mention Jesus, a longer version of the ill-wind charm, which comes from the Lucanian town of Oppido, does so (De Martino 2008, 30-31). In this longer version, it is said that God and the Virgin Mary protect both the orator of the spell (i.e. ‘I’ within the text of the charm) and the orator’s house from the ill wind. In this version, it is also said that the ill wind is rebuked or sent away by Jesus Christ, by the Holy Trinity, by Mother Mary, and by Saint Anthony. Thus, what this 4

Remembering the Practicalities of Meeting Human Needs longer version adds to the stable element of these Lucanian charms, the stable element being a rebuke against the ill wind, is essentially a list of divine protectors who send away the wind. After all, whether the wind is perceived to be an evil spirit or a meteorological phenomenon, it is still beyond human control and thus requires magical or inexplicable means of intervention.

Like the Lucanian charm, the Carnuntum magical inscription is clearly a spell against a particular type of headache described as migraine (from Greek and then Latin ‘hemicrania’, pain in half of the head). Interestingly, moreover, a migraine, which usually affects only one side of the head, is preceded by what in pathology are referred to as ‘auras’ or strange sensations, such as noises in the ears and visual disturbances which can cause disorientation, dizziness, or imbalance. In the Carnuntum charm, it is clear that the entity which causes the migraine was believed to be Antaura, a name which can be taken to mean ‘anti aura’, the ill wind which becomes the migraine demon and which comes out of the sea. This carries echoes of an Assyro-Babylonian incantation which also draws from the Sumerian belief in the Ab-zu, the primeval Sea out of which everything came into being (Barb 1966, 5). The final part of this Assyro-Babylonian incantation, of which the Assyrian king, Assurbanipal, had a copy made in the seventh century B.C.E. (Lenormant 1999, 2-3), reads as follows:

In the Carnuntum charm, the Lucanian ‘ill wind’ is called ‘Antaura’ and the divine protector, who causes the wind’s path to deviate, is Artemis of Ephesos or Ephesus, the goddess of all magic (Barb 1966, 2; Kotansky 1994, 5960). As explained by Barb (1966, 3), the name ‘Antaura’ derives from the Greek and Latin ‘anti’ which means opposed or untoward and ‘aura’ which is a light wind or breeze. Thus, Antaura is the personification of a noxious or ill wind. This evil wind is described by Kotansky (1994, 58) as ‘the migraine demoness’. In fact, the inscription in Greek on the Carnuntum amulet in the form of a small silver scroll, as translated by Barb (1966, 2), reads as follows:

The demon of the sea, the demon of the marsh […] The bad wind by itself, The wicked demon which seizes the body (?), which disturbs the body. Spirit of the heavens, conjure it! Spirit of the earth, conjure it!

Against Migraine [literally, the pain in half of the head] Antaura came out from the sea. She shouted aloud like a hind, she cried out like a cow. Artemis of Ephesos comes to meet her. ‘Antaura, where are you bringing the half-head-pain? Not to …?’

This ancient example demonises a wind, which arrives from the sea much like Antaura, and then invokes the spirits of heaven and earth to conjure away this wind. Likewise, an Egyptian spell, which indirectly asks for the protection of Isis, also demonises a type of wind described as a ‘breeze of any evil breath’ that causes vexations of all sorts (Borghouts 1978, 14). This role, which is shared by deities of various ancient cultures, such as the spirits of heaven and earth, Isis, and so on, is the same role in which Artemis is cast in the Carnuntum charm. Defining this role is the ill wind against which protection is sought. However, we must remember that such ill winds, no matter how small and no matter whether they are perceived as being meteorological phenomena or demonic forces, are occurrences which we had and still have no control over. Thus, when confronted by such uncontrollable forces, turning to God or a god for help seems most natural since this represents what Maslow (1998, 172) describes as a ‘safety-seeking mechanism’. Moreover, in relation to the Egyptian spell against the evil breeze, it is important to note that Egypt (and, in particular, Alexandria), when it was ruled by Macedonian kings before becoming a province of the Roman Empire, came to represent a melting pot of Egyptian, Babylonian, Jewish, and Greek elements related to magic (Luck 2006, 16). Thus, the Romans became carriers of this influence as well.

At this point, the text is cut short by corrosion (Barb 1966, 2). However, the translation reported by Kotansky (1994, 60) is slightly clearer: For the ‘Half-Head’ [Migraine]: Antaura came out of the sea. She shouted like a hind. She cried out like a cow. Artemis of Ephesos met her (saying): ‘Antaura, where are you going?’ ‘Into the half-part of the head.’ ‘No, do not [go] into the [half-part of the head…].’ Thus, aside from the first lines where Antaura, the ill wind, comes out of the sea making wild noises, the correspondence between this ancient Carnuntum inscription and the modern southern Italian charm is notable. The Carnuntum line ‘Antaura, where are you going?’ becomes, in the southern Italian oral charm, ‘Ill wind, where are you going?’ and subsequent lines of both charms exhibit the following similarities: Carnuntum charm ‘Into the half-part of the head’ ‘I am going onto So-and-So’ ‘No, do not [go] into the […]’ Lucanian charm ‘I am going onto So-and-So’ ‘Onto So-and-So you must not go […]’.

In Arcana Mundi. Magic and the Occult in the Greek and Roman Worlds, Georg Luck (2006, 49, 494) mentions that some Egyptian amulets made of jasper sometimes

5

Liberata Luciani presented different carved symbols with the word Abrasax, probably referring to a demon or lower deity, also carved on them. In the Greek and Roman worlds, the term abra (as in the Egyptian ‘Abrasax’) and the term aura (as in the Carnuntum ‘Antaura’) could be used interchangeably. For example, there is the expression abracadabra found in the third-century Liber medicinalis which is essentially a collection of natural remedies, some of which were already in use among the folk (see Ruffato 2004, 9-11). In chapter 52 of this book, Roman physician Quintus Serenus Sammonicus advised wearing a textual amulet in the form of a piece of paper with the letters of the word ‘abracadabra’, which may have been presented in the following fashion:

intended to mitigate migraine which was perceived to be caused by Antaura (the ill wind) it follows that the charm which strikes at the ill wind would also be used to mitigate any other symptom/disease perceived to be caused by the wind. Within the Mediterranean context, there are a number of examples of what are still considered ill winds (see Figure 1). Firstly, we have the Italian sirocco: a southerly (and, especially for southern Italian regions, mostly noxious) wind which forms either in advance of a North African low-pressure system or a cold front and which, therefore, arrives from the Mediterranean and can bring with it gale force winds (see Askari et al. 2003, 236). Secondly, we have the European foehn, which is especially felt in the Alps (and thus also around the area of ancient Carnuntum) and which the Romans called favonius or west wind, believing it to also come from the Mediterranean. In fact, the foehn is a warm, dry wind which occurs wherever prevailing winds must pass over a mountain barrier (Brinkmann 1971, 230), bringing about a sudden change in temperature and humidity and thus increasing the risk of migraine headaches. This is evidenced by various medical and anthropological studies (Martin and Behbehani 2001; Wöber et al. 2007; Strauss 2007). Thirdly, the khamsin (which occurs in Egypt and the Arabian Peninsula): an oppressive, hot, dry, and dusty wind of variable direction and similar to the dry sirocco; and finally, in the eastern Mediterranean, the meltemi. This last wind, enhanced by a low pressure trough in the eastern Mediterranean region, generally brings about a sudden drop in humidity and a change in atmospheric pressure. Moreover, this wind can be very dangerous to mariners because it can come up without warning and in clear weather.5 Considering that all of these winds can trigger undesirable effects, it is not surprising that people would feel the need to protect themselves against them.

ABRACADABRA ABRACADABR ABRACADAB ABRACADA ABRACAD ABRACA ABRAC ABRA ABR AB A This was to be done in order to dispel an otherwise untreatable malarial fever. Thus, ‘abracadabra’ can be explained as ‘Aura-cad-Aura’ where ‘cad’ is the Latin root of the verb ‘to fall’ or ‘to drop’. Sammonicus’ formula, therefore, represents a typical charm which first summons the evil breeze/fever (i.e. Abra/Aura) and then orders it to leave the sufferer by diminishing in the same way as a falling wind.

Within the province of Vibo Valentia, in the southern Italian region of Calabria, there is even a saying or proverb, in the local dialect, regarding the libeccio (a type of sirocco which comes from Libya): Chiss’è limbici / chi ma’ beni fici (This is libeccio / Which has never done any good [for anything or anyone]).

The ‘Antaura’ charm from Carnuntum, moreover, was most likely one of a group of spells (against the migraine demon that could manifest as an evil breeze) which were collected over generations and used in an extended family context (Kotansky 1994, 59). Furthermore, since these spells were against migraine, it is important to note that migraine is a common disorder which has been described for the past 2,000 years or more (Sacks 1985, xi). There was and still is no cure for migraine. One of the triggers for migraines is environmental factors, such as thermal stimuli and particular types of wind which bring about a change in temperature and air pressure (Sacks 1985, 133134, 153 and 157). Thus, the Carnuntum charm, such as it is, addresses a basic human need; freedom from disease (e.g. migraine). Moreover, given that the charm was

In the Carnuntum charm, the ill wind, Antaura, which comes out from the sea is met by another great force, Artemis of Ephesus, which causes its path to deviate. This suggests that the people of the time were sufficiently aware of the similarities between air and water currents to assume common mechanics for both. The wind’s deviation from an apparent path is as if an unseen obstacle, the goddess of all magic in this case, forces it to change its course like a boulder in a stream.

  For more information on the meltemi (and other winds of the world) see www.weatheronline.co.uk/reports/wind/The-Meltemi.htm. Accessed 28 January 2014.

5

6

Remembering the Practicalities of Meeting Human Needs

Figure 1. Some winds and countries around the Mediterranean Basin. Original map drawn by the author ©. Note that cities and towns such as ancient Ephesus (Turkey), which was famous for the Temple of Artemis, Alexandria (Egypt), Ardore Marina and Vibo Marina (Calabria, Italy) are coastal locations where the sea would play an important role in connection with people’s livelihood. Another charm, found in a medieval southern Italian manuscript,6 elaborates and Christianizes the second century charm from Carnuntum. This medieval charm, translated from the Greek by Barb (1966, 2-3), is as follows:

Antaura, the ill wind, as, like in the Carnuntum charm, it comes out of the sea making wild noises. Given the Christianization of this medieval charm, the Carnuntum Artemis/Antaura dialogue becomes an elaborated dialogue between Migraine and Jesus. This elaboration essentially consists of a rather long list of symptoms believed to be caused by Migraine, which suggests that this one charm could be used against all of those symptoms, and a list of all the things that Jesus would do to Migraine (in the event that it would not obey him), including a longer description of the place where Jesus confines it. These rather long lists or descriptions, which become redundant and (evidently) difficult to remember by rote, are summarized in the modern Lucanian oral charms (De Martino 2008, 29-31) as follows:

Migraine came out from the sea rioting and roaring, And our Lord Jesus Christ came to meet it and said to it: ‘Where are you bringing headache and migraine and pain in the skull and in the eyes and inflammation and tears and leukoma and dizziness?’ And the Headache answered to our Lord Jesus Christ: ‘We [sic] are going to sit down in the head of the servant of God So-and-So’. And our Lord Jesus Christ tells it: ‘Look here, do not go into my servant, but be off altogether and go into the wild mountains […] But if you do not obey me I shall destroy you there on the burning mountain where no dog barks and the cock does not crow […]’

Oppido version ‘Go away, wretched, ill wind For you are rebuked by Jesus Christ […] Go away ill wind Go away, in the same way the wind goes away’

This charm (abbreviated above) replaces ‘Antaura’ with ‘Migraine’, which suggests that, like Artemis, Antaura may have been perceived as being ‘pagan’ and thus avoided in usage. However, it is clear that Migraine corresponds to

Ferrandina version ‘You must go in a faraway wood Where one can hear No bells ringing No people going by No cocks crowing’.

  There are several versions of this medieval charm/story, including one in the Greek manuscript of Paris 2316 and one in a twelfth-century Euchologion of the monastery at Mt. Sinai, illustrating the extent of the cross-cultural propagation of this textual charm (see Kotansky 1994, 6064). The version reported in this article has been chosen because it was found in a southern Italian manuscript and the focus of this article is southern Italy.

6

7

Liberata Luciani In this way, the modern Lucanian charms retain the essential ideas of both the Carnuntum and the medieval charms.

Through heaven I roll my lucid moon along; I shed in hell o’er my pale people peace; On earth I, caring for the creatures, guard All [things] that love green haunts8 and loneliness. (Witt 1997, 142)

Finally, we have a modern and current folk charm from the southern Italian region of Calabria, which is spontaneously recited in the coastal town of Ardore Marina, within the province of Reggio Calabria (see Figure 1).

In fact, the Calabrian charm does not mention the Virgin Mary per se, but the ‘Madonna’ or ‘Great Lady’. In Calabrian folk culture, as found throughout my field research, the Madonna does not just refer to the Virgin Mary as mother of Jesus, but to the protecting and loving mother of all, the Great Lady from whom all ‘Becoming’ arose and who is capable of performing great miracles. As such, she is often called Great or Divine Mother, Great Lady of Granted Prayers, Queen of Heaven, and Stella Maris (Star of the Sea), using attributes which were used in Greco-Roman times to refer to Isis (Witt 1997, 14-20).

Wind be quiet and sea be calm; The Madonna in the midst of the seas. Seven horses of gold she had, Seven horses of gold and silver. Dear Lord, silence the wind.7 The brevity and rhyming structure of this charm’s original text, which is very close to standard Italian, are some of the determining factors for its maintenance and public recitation against loud winds and rough seas. Like the medieval charm, moreover, this Calabrian incantation turns to the Lord, Jesus, to silence the wind. Thus, it recalls chapter four, verse 39 in the Gospel of Mark (‘He [Jesus] woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea: “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.’). Although the Calabrian charm does not describe the wind as evil, like the Carnuntum charm, it associates the wind with the sea, presenting the same protagonist under a different name: the ‘Madonna’ or ‘Great Lady’, who is in the midst of the seas and thus confronts air and water currents like Artemis of Ephesus.

This establishes a chain of propagation in which a culturally significant element, such as Isis/Artemis, is passed from one tradition to another and from one culture to another retaining its original function of protector, but altered to conform to cultural norms such as language and religion (i.e. from pagan to Christian). Consequently, the Madonna is portrayed as the loving Great Lady and the guiding Star of the Sea who, out of compassion, employs magic to conjure up ways to address the supplicant’s greatest need. In this form, the Madonna is also central to a southern Italian legend which has given rise to a folk tradition that is still carried out in the Calabrian coastal town of Vibo Marina, on the Tyrrhenian or western side of Calabria (see Figure 1).

Likewise, in the Egyptian spell against the evil breeze, the Egyptian goddess Isis plays an identical role to Artemis who replaces her in the Carnuntum charm. In fact, after the conquest of Egypt by Alexander the Great in 332 B.C.E., Isis, like Artemis,

Although in Vibo Marina the Calabrian charm presented in this article is not recited,9 a significant feast is celebrated, the festa del mare (feast of the sea) or, in the local dialect, the feast of the Madonna ammenz’u mari (‘in the midst of the seas’, using the same expression as in the charm) where the Madonna is represented by a statue of Maria SS del Rosario (Most Blessed Mary of the Rosary), the patron saint of Vibo Marina.

assumed the character of ‘lady of the ocean’. Like Artemis Limenitis, Limenoscopos, she had a particular regard for harbours. Like her she could control the winds that blew upon the waters. Like her she was renowned for sudden interventions in human affairs when all other means of salvation had failed. (Witt 1997, 144)

During this feast, on the night of the first Sunday following the 15th of August (Feast of the Assumption) and in preparation for the coming autumn months, the Madonna is placed on a small boat and taken around the harbour to bless the waters. The importance of this tradition is perceived to emerge from the unpredictability and hazardous nature of foul weather as it applies to mariners, particularly those operating close to shore. This tradition, therefore, addresses a basic human need by reassuring people who must ultimately face the consequences of this weather (see Maslow 1998, 172-175). Furthermore, this tradition (i.e. the Madonna at sea surrounded by starry lights whilst blessing the waters under the night sky) not

In this role of ‘lady of the ocean’ (Greek Pelagia and Latin Stella Maris or Star of the Sea), Isis would also become the guardian of seafarers and merchants who were to spread her cult throughout the Mediterranean (Witt 1997, 20 and 48). Thus, verses such as the ones below, which refer to Isis/Artemis (whose Roman counterpart was Diana, the goddess of the hunt, of the moon, and of magic) as the caring queen of heaven, earth, and the underworld, could apply to different goddesses or Madonnas, from Isis to the Virgin Mary:

  Note that ‘green haunts’ also include all bodies of water. In fact, the ancient Egyptians referred to the waters of the Mediterranean as the ‘Great Green’ (Witt 1997, 20). 9   In Vibo Marina, Saint Barbara is often invoked for protection against electric storms, drawing from an older tradition. 8

  The authors translation of the charm in Calabrian dialect reported by Luigi Schirripa (2000, 256).

7

8

Remembering the Practicalities of Meeting Human Needs able to counteract the dangers caused by i sette venti (the seven winds), which are types of harmful winds endemic to various geographic settings, or of a seven-fold wind which is thought of as having both its own characteristics and characteristics of the other six winds. Given this collection of characteristics, the Calabrian seven-fold wind is often referred to as the mamma dei venti (‘mother of the winds’), against which protection is sought. This Calabrian idea of the destructive seven winds (against which, in a maritime context, people often turn to the Madonna who, in this role, recalls Isis/Artemis able to control the winds which blew upon the waters; see Witt 1997, 144) also carries echoes of the Babylonian story of creation found on seven cuneiform tablets in Assurbanipal’s library. In this Babylonian story, the winds created by Marduk to battle Tiamat also number seven: the Storm or Tempest, the Hurricane, the Whirlwind, the Four-fold Wind, the Seven-fold Wind, the Wind which has No-equal, and the Evil Wind. Marcel Leibovici (1994, 71-72) refers to the Storm or Tempest as the ‘destructive wind’, although it can be argued that all of the seven winds created by Marduk can be described as ‘destructive’. Furthermore, Leibovici maintains that, in ancient Babylonian culture, Marduk’s seven winds do not refer to meteorological realities, but to seven demons or seven evil forces. However, in modern Calabrian folk culture, the expression ‘seven winds’ refers strictly to winds as meteorological phenomena which, as such, are beyond human control. Unlike the seven winds in ancient Mesopotamian culture, these Calabrian winds are not thought of as demons. They are, however, often described as ‘evil’, ‘bad’ or ‘ugly’ because they can all cause damage or harm, much like the seven winds in the Babylonian story. This emphasises a shift in perception, from ancient through medieval to modern times, in relation to the wind mentioned in the charms. In ancient times, for example, winds which caused particular problems were perceived as being demons, whereas in modern and current times they are really perceived to be natural phenomena which are sometimes described as ‘evil’ only because they can all cause harm.

only recalls the Calabrian charm presented earlier, but also the circumstances of the foundation of Vibo Marina.10 Although in the Calabrian charm it is not clear if the words ‘wind be quiet and sea be calm’ are pronounced by the Madonna, the image of the Madonna on the sea with seven horses of gold and silver is transported into a mythical past (note the use of the past tense in the third line) where the Madonna displays powers so great, emphasised by the seven horses, that she can withstand and thus counteract powerful, harmful forces, such as those carried by loud winds and rough seas. Moreover, according to Calabrian folk, the ‘seven horses of gold and silver’ mentioned in the charm refer to the carro della Madonna (‘Madonna’s chariot’, as the folk described it in the course of my fieldwork), the seven stars of the Ursa Minor or Little Bear constellation, comprising a handle or tail of three stars, the last one of which is the North Star also called Polaris, and a ladle of four stars. From a Northern Hemisphere perspective, the North Star which appears to be brighter than the other six stars of the constellation, remains in the same location and is always due North of the observer. It can be easily identified in the sky because of the distinctive shape which it forms with the other six stars of Ursa Minor. This distinctive shape has given rise to the term settentrione, the Italian word for ‘North’. Settentrione comes from the Latin words septem (seven) and triones (oxen, as in oxen driving a plough, which correspond to the seven horses in the charm) since the shape formed by the seven stars of the Little Bear constellation, in the Northern Hemisphere, also resembles a plough. This raises the question of whether the religious or superstitious emphasis on the number seven in western cultures originates from the seven stars of Ursa Minor. The fixed position of the North Star gives rise to its utility as a celestial reference point which has traditionally carried great importance in the maritime context of the Mediterranean. Thus, the Madonna’s seven horses of gold and silver mentioned in the Calabrian charm emphasise the role of the Madonna/Virgin Mary as the ‘Star of the Sea’ and ‘Queen of Heaven’, connecting her to Isis/Artemis as protector(s) of mariners.11 Moreover, because of her ‘chariot’ (i.e. the seven stars of Ursa Minor), the Madonna, as presented in the Calabrian charm, is also perceived to be

Conclusion: Folklore as an Environmentally Emphasised Means of Meeting Human Needs As we have seen, the southern Italian folk charms analysed in this article exhibit strong similarities with the Carnuntum magical inscription, drawing from different ancient cultures such as those of Egypt and Mesopotamia. All of these charms, moreover, address similar problems caused by an uncontrollable wind (whether this wind is perceived to be evil, demonic, or simply harmful). In fact, ‘wind’ (or ‘-aura’), ‘sea’, ‘wood’, or ‘burning mountain’, including the Madonna’s ‘seven horses’ or the seven stars of Ursa Minor, are all expressions used in these charms, which suggests that these features have an impact on the people reciting the charms and, moreover, that the maintenance of these charms evolves out of the relationship between impacting environmental/geographical specificities and basic human needs (e.g. freedom from illness/injury). Thus, De Martino’s reasons regarding the maintenance

  The circumstances of the foundation of Vibo Marina are believed to be as follows: In pagan times, a man at sea becomes aware of the imminent arrival of an unexpected storm. In distress, he lifts his head to heaven and prays to the Star of the Sea who safely guides him to the shore of modern Vibo Marina. Here, subsequently, in pre-Christian times, a statue of what was believed to be the goddess Venus was discovered (this statue, which is actually a Roman copy of Ariadne reclining, is still located in Vibo Marina, between the Lungomare Cristoforo Colombo and the Corso Michele Bianchi). Thus, in honour of the goddess of love and of the sacred and guiding Star of the Sea, the place was called Porto Santa Venere (Saint Venus’ Harbour), the name of modern Vibo Marina up to the twentieth century. For further discussion see, Antonio Montesanti (2007, 25-52 and 208-211). 11   It is important to note that in Ardore Marina (the town in which the Calabrian charm is recited) people also venerate the Madonna of the Marina (Schirripa 2000, 264). In a folk hymn in Calabrian dialect, this Madonna is described as the ‘bright Star of the Sea’ and the ‘great Queen of Heaven’ who holds ‘the keys’ which she always ‘arranges’ accordingly. 10

9

Liberata Luciani De Martino, E. 2008. Sud e magia [South and magic]. Milano: Feltrinelli. First published in 1959. Kotansky, R. 1994. Greek Magical Amulets. The Inscribed Gold, Silver, Copper, and Bronze ‘Lamellae’. Part 1. Opladen: Springer Fachmedien Wiesbaden, 58-71. Leibovici, M. 1994. ‘Geni e demoni in Babilonia’ [Genies and demons in Babylonia]. In Geni, angeli e demoni [Genies, angels and demons]. Roma: Edizioni Mediterranee, 69-93. Lenormant, F. 1999. Chaldean Magic. Its Origin and Development. York Beach, ME: Red Wheel, Weiser. First published in 1878. Luck, G. 2006. Arcana Mundi. Magic and the Occult in the Greek and Roman Worlds. 2nd ed. Baltimore, Maryland: The Johns Hopkins University Press. Martin, V. T. and Behbehani, M. M. 2001. ‘Toward a Rational Understanding of Migraine Trigger Factors’. Medical Clinics of North America 85, issue 4. Maslow, A. H. 1998. ‘A Theory of Human Motivation’, first published in 1954. In Personality. Clinical Concepts in Psychology. New York: Routledge, 169-188. Montesanti, A. 2007. HIPPONION: VIBO GRECA. Storia ed archeologia di Vibo Valentia [HIPPONION: VIBO GRECA. History and archaeology of Vibo Valentia]. Roma: GB Editoria. Roper, J. ed. 2004. Charms and Charming in Europe. Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Ruffato, C. 2004. ‘Sul Liber medicinalis di Quinto Sereno Sammonico’ [On the Liber medicinalis of Quintus Serenus Sammonicus]. In Q. Sereno Sammonico: Liber Medicinalis, edited by Ruffato, C.. Napoli: Vico Acitillo 124-Poetry Wave, 7-18. Sacks, O. 1985. Migraine. Understanding a Common Disorder. Expanded and Updated. Berkeley: University of California Press. Schirripa, L. ed. 2000. Le nostre radici [Our roots]. Ardore Marina, Reggio Calabria: Arti Grafiche Edizioni. Strauss, S. 2007. ‘An Ill Wind: The Foehn in Leukerbad and beyond’. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 13: S165-S181. Witt, R. E. 1997. Isis in the Ancient World. Baltimore, Maryland: Johns Hopkins University Press. First published in 1971. Wöber, C.; Brannath, W.; Schmidt, K.; Kapitan, M.; Rudel, E.; Wessely, P.; WöberBingöl, C.; and the PAMINA Study Group 2007. ‘Prospective Analysis of Factors Related to Migraine Attacks: The PAMINA Study’. Cephalalgia 27: 305314.

of southern Italian folk charms (which, as previously mentioned, revolve around the archaic and backward conditions of Lucania) do not apply in this case because this is not a question of applying existing technology. In fact, all of the charms discussed in this article have a clear practical application in reality and are used against phenomena which continue to remain beyond human control. Their maintenance and recitation represent a safety-seeking mechanism which extends across cultures and time. In this sense, they address a basic and universal human need. In this particular tradition, moreover, the labels or names of key elements, such as Antaura (pagan demon) and Isis/Artemis (pagan goddesses), are replaced through the ages, becoming ‘Migraine’, ‘ill wind’, and finally just ‘wind’ with, sometimes, the Madonna or the Virgin Mary, to accommodate the change in cultural norms such as language and religion. However, the function of these elements (i.e. an evil, harmful, uncontrollable element versus a good, protective one) remains stable. The principal difference regarding these charms, from ancient through medieval to modern times, rests essentially on a shift of perception. For example, in ancient and medieval times, the wind mentioned in these charms was perceived to be an evil, demonic entity, whereas, in modern and current times, it is really perceived to be a harmful, meteorological phenomenon. Consequently, in this case, cultural influence operates only on a level of changing perception and thus raises the question of whether cultural forms (e.g. labels or names) are always used from the perspective of their apparent or superficial meaning or whether they arise from some source of deeper significance. Bibliography Askari, F.; Signell, R. P.; Chiggiato, J.; and Doyle, J. 2003. ‘RADARSAT Mapping of BORA/SIROCCO Winds in the Adriatic Sea’. IEEE: 236-238. Barb, A. A. 1966. ‘Antaura: The Mermaid and the Devil’s Grandmother’. Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 29: 1-23. Borghouts, J. F.1978. Ancient Egyptian Magical Texts. Leiden: E. J. Brill. Brinkmann, W. A. R. 1971. ‘What Is a Foehn?’. Weather 26, issue 6: 230-240. Chiara, G. 2011. ‘Guarigioni magiche ed effetti di realtà: La costruzione di realtà “magiche” nei rituali di guarigione nelle tradizioni popolari’ [Magical recoveries and effects of reality: The construction of ‘magical’ realities in the healing rituals of folk traditions]. Scienze dell’Interazione. Rivista di psicologia clinica e psicoterapia [Sciences of Interaction. Journal of clinical psychology and psychotherapy] 2: 132-146.

10

Thesmophorian Influences in Rome: Interrelations between the Thesmophoria and the Festival for Bona Dea, the Sacrum Anniversarium Cereis, and the Ieiunium Cereris* Katherine R. L. McLardy Abstract The Thesmophoria was the pre-eminent women’s festival in Greece, and was celebrated widely to the furthest reaches of the Greek world. For this festival of fertility in honour of the Thesmophorian goddesses, Demeter and Kore, the extant ancient evidence is predominantly Greek, even though the festival was certainly known to Roman authors. This article will investigate whether there is any evidence that the Thesmophoria was ever celebrated in Rome under its Greek form. Thus, I will investigate three festivals that modern scholars have theorised may have been derived from the Thesmophoria, reimagined for a Roman context: the sacrum anniversarium Cereris, the festival for the Bona Dea and the ieiunium Cereris. Focusing on the interrelations between these three festivals and the Thesmophoria, I will argue that the similarities are not superficial, and indicate strong influence by the Thesmophoria on some of these festivals. I will also discuss why multiple festivals influenced by the Thesmophoria might have co-existed in Rome. Through a consideration of the chronological and geographical evidence for each of these festivals, I will show that various factors may have been the cause of the apparent duplication of Thesmophoria-like festivals in Rome.

Introduction

basis for comparison. The Thesmophoria was a Greek festival restricted to women that spread throughout the Greek world. Its main purpose was nominally to ensure agricultural and human fertility (schol. Luc. Dial. Meret. 2.1, p.276 (Rabe)).3 The women gathered at the sanctuary of Demeter for the duration; the festival lasted three days in Athens but in other locations, Sicily for example, it could last as long as ten days (Athens: Alci. Epistulae 3.39; schol. Aristoph. Thesm. 86; Hsch. s.v. anodos; Sicily: Diod. Sic. 5.4). It was held in honour of Demeter Thesmophoros and Kore, and was loosely based around the myth of the rape and subsequent recovery of Kore-Persephone. It appears likely that segments of the myth were re-enacted during the course of the festival. The festival was characterised by certain notable activities including aischrologia (ritual vulgar joking),4 pig sacrifice, fasting, feasting, and nocturnal rites. There is also mention of prescriptions relating to chastity. The main rite of the festival appears to have been a piglet sacrifice, in which the decomposed remains of pigs, mixed with dough models in the shape of human genitalia were retrieved from pits inhabited by snakes (schol. Luc. Dial. Meret. 2.1, p.276 (Rabe)). Ritual purity and chastity was required for some, if not all, the participants at the festival (schol. Luc. Dial. Meret. 2.1, p.276 (Rabe); Pliny HN 24:59; Steph. Byz. s.v. Miletos). Other notable features of the festival include fasting and mourning in imitation of the grief of Demeter (Aristoph. Av. 1519; Aristoph. Thesm. 947-949, 984; Ath. 307F; Callim. H. 1-9; Plutarch Demosthenes 30; Plut. de Is. et Os. 69; Suda s.v. Thesmophoria), and linked with this imitation of mourning is the practice of aischrologia, or vulgar joking (Apollod. 1.5.1; Diod. Sic. 5.4.7). This use of so-called obscene language is commonly found in association with Demetrian festivals and is normally

The Thesmophoria, the most well-known example of a women’s festival from ancient Greece, is universally acknowledged to be widespread.1 It had definitely reached the Roman mainland by 200 CE (I Napoli I34), but was known amongst the Greek colonists in Sicily from a much earlier time (Ath. 647a; Diod. Sic. 5.4; Cic. Verr. 4.99; Lactant. Div. Inst. 2.4; CIG5432; IGASMG II 48; Kron 1992). It seems scarcely conceivable that it could not have reached Rome itself.2 Latin sources do not refer to a Thesmophoria in a Roman context, but Pliny the Elder (HN 24.35) discusses the Thesmophoria at Athens, and Vergil (Aen. 4.57) mentions sacrifices to Ceres Legifera, a direct translation of the Greek epithet Thesmophoros associated with the form of Demeter under whose guise the Thesmophoria was celebrated. Thus the Romans were certainly aware of the existence of the Greek festival. There are two festivals that are most often associated with the Thesmophoria in a Roman context; the Festival for Bona Dea (Farnell 1907; Brouwer 1989; Versnel 1993), and the Sacrum Anniversarium Cereris (Le Bonniec 1958; Spaeth 1996). A third festival, the ieiunium Cereris has also been linked with the Thesmophoria (Farnell 1907). This article will examine the evidence for these festivals, their similarities to the Thesmophoria, and possible methods by which the Thesmophoria may have influenced these Roman festivals. Comparative analysis Firstly, a brief enumeration of the salient features of the Thesmophoria is necessary, in order to provide a   This has been generally accepted at least from the time of Nilsson (1906, 313) who described it thus: “Die Thesmophorien sind das bei weitem verbreitetste aller griechischen Feste.” See Stallsmith (2009, 28) for a recent summary of the spread of the festival. 2   A possible site associated with the Thesmophorian goddesses in Rome has recently been identified (Lucchese 2013).

  It must be noted that this text is corrupt and confused, but contains important potential source material. See Lowe (1998) and Stallsmith (2009) for recent discussions of the text and its problems. 4   This is often translated as obscene joking in modern sources, but as Brumfield (1996, 67) notes, the term obscene has connotations in English which are not intended by this term in the original Greek.

1

3

11

Katherine R. L. McLardy explained as a re-enactment of Iambe/Baubo breaking the grief of Demeter in mythological sources (for example Apollod. 1.5.1).5 Feasting is known to have occurred (Parthenius 8; Paus. 10.33.12; Isaeus 3.80). Nocturnal rites are clearly indicated and torches are strongly linked in texts with both the Thesmophoria and mythologically with Demeter (Hdt. 6.16; Aristoph. Thesm. 281, 372-376, 916917, 1152; Paus. 4.17.1; IG II2 1184.). As it is theorised that the women would camp at the sanctuary for the duration of the festival,6 some of the rites would probably have been celebrated overnight.

features of the Thesmophoria find no parallel in the sources relating to the sacrum anniversarium Cereris. These are aischrologia, feasting and skenai (huts). The last two are not serious issues as feasting is a common activity and may not have rated a mention and skenai appear rarely in textual sources related to the Thesmophoria outside of Aristophanes. It is unusual, should the festivals be linked, that there is no evidence for any practice paralleling aischrologia, however, as this was an essential part of the Thesmophoria. There is also no mention of models of genitalia such as may be associated with the Thesmophoria, although there is a mention of ‘agricultural symbols’ relating to fertility.8

An examination of the three Roman festivals will throw light on their similarities and differences to the Thesmophoria. Through this, it will be possible to consider whether the Thesmophoria could reasonably have influenced the development of these three Roman festivals.

An additional three features have only circumstantial linkages. In regard to the timing of the festival, it has been suggested that the sacrum anniversarium Cereris was probably celebrated in August (Arbesmann 1929, 94-95; O’Bryhim 2008, 194-195). This does not correspond to the date of the Thesmophoria in Athens, but it fits well with the date of the Thesmophoria at some other Greek locations, such as Thebes, Delos and Thasos (Xen. Hell. 5.2.29; IG XI 287; Salviat 1958, 248). Nocturnal rites are mentioned in a passage mentioning the sacrum anniversarium Cereris but these may instead refer to Bona Dea (Cic. Leg. 2.21; Brouwer 1989, 418). Pig sacrifice is not specifically associated with this festival but is generally associated with Ceres, and mentioned in connection with her rituals (i.e, Varro Rust. 2.4.9-10). Finally, there are two less important aspects of these festivals where some correspondence is to be seen. Both festivals appear to have had initiatory connotations and connections with mystery rites (Thesmophoria: Paus. 8.15.5; schol. Theocritus 4.25; (schol. Luc. Dial. Meret. 2.1, p.275-6 (Rabe); Ceres: Cic. Leg. 2.21),9 and there is some evidence that the female participants in both festivals had to follow rules relating to appropriate clothing (Thesmophoria: IPArk 20; schol. Soph. OC 681; Ceres: Val. Max. 1.1.15).

Thesmophoria and sacrum anniversarium Cereris Reconstruction Cicero notes the sacrum anniversarium Cereris, or Greek rites of Ceres were imported into Rome from Greece or Sicily, and these are the most likely candidate for a direct importation of the Thesmophoria into Rome (Cic. Balb. 55). As Spaeth (1996, 103) notes, “the evidence indicates that the Roman cult of Ceres and Proserpina had a Greek origin and was related to the Thesmophoric cult of the goddess Demeter.” It is clear that the sacrum anniversarium Cereris was restricted to female participants only (Liv. 22.56.4-5, 34.6.15). Cicero (Leg. 2.21, 2.36-37) also writes of ceremonies of Greek origin in honour of Ceres that were restricted to women. Spaeth (1996, 104) has gathered inscriptional evidence that indicates that female officiants or priestesses were not the typical custom in cults of Ceres in Rome; they are only found when Ceres is worshipped in conjunction with Proserpina. From the brief mentions in Roman texts, it would appear that this festival celebrated the recovery of Proserpina (Ov. Am. 3.10.45; Fest. s.v. Graeca sacra), that there was an association with mourning and with chastity (Verg. Aen. 4.609; Ov. Met. 10.431-436; Ov. Am. 3.10), that a procession occurred (Plut. Fabius Maximus 18), that nocturnal rites of some sort may have occurred (Cic. Leg. 2.21),7 and that fertility was emphasised (Ov. Met. 10.431-436).

Influences In terms of the sacrum anniversarium Cereris, following Cicero (Balb. 55), it is plausible this festival came to Rome via Magna Graecia. Demeter Thesmophoros was wellknown in Sicily and Campania, and was probably adopted from there into Rome. Cicero (Balb. 55) states that some of the priestesses are from Neapolis, where inscriptional evidence for Demeter Thesmophoros has been found (I. Napoli I 34). Various arguments have been put forward regarding the date of this importation, but Le Bonniec (1958, 390-395) argues convincingly for a date in the second half of the third century BCE.10

There is in fact considerable concordance between what is known of the sacrum anniversarium Cereris and the Thesmophoria, despite the lack of a detailed description of the former which would allow proper reconstruction. A restriction to female participants, mourning, chastity, and fertility are all features of both festivals. Three important

  Ovid talks of symbols which represent agricultural fertility in Met. 10.431-436. For the lack of more explicit human fertility symbols, see Spaeth (1996, 112). 9   Other sources for the Thesmophoria on this point include Hdt. 2.171; Suda s.v. Thesmophoros; Ael. fr. 44; MDAI(A) 37.1912.298,24; Ephesos 211; Aristoph. Thesm. 947-949, 1148-1160; CIA 2.573 = IG II2 1177; Theod. Therap. 3.84; Callim. H. 1-9, 128. 10   Arguments for this date are complicated and beyond the scope of this study. 8

  This is based on an episode recounted in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter 202-205. See Brumfield (1996) for more information on aischrologia. 6   This is based primarily on Aristoph. Thesm. 622-624, 658 where there is a mention of skenai (huts) for the women. These huts are also mentioned on an inscription from the Thesmophorion at Bitalemi (Gela) in Sicily. See Kron (1992, 614-615) and IGASMG II2 46a. 7   This, however, contradicts Brouwer’s (1989, 418) interpretation regarding Bona Dea, which is probably correct. 5

12

Thesmophorian Influences in Rome Thesmophoria and festival for Bona Dea

feasting (Juv. 1.2.82-90), jesting (see Versnel 1993, 230),13 chastity (Plut. Quaest. Rom. 20), and the drinking of wine (Plut. Caesar 9-10; Plut. Quaest. Rom. 20). A connection with serpents is evident (Plut. Caesar 9-10), and bowers decorated with vine leaves were used (Plut. Caesar 9-10).

Reconstruction The festival for Bona Dea is one of the more well-known Roman women’s festivals, and is widely mentioned in ancient source material. It is often compared with the Thesmophoria due to superficial similarities between them (Versnel 1993), but whether the one influenced the development of the other is not so easy to define. An examination of the features of the festival for Bona Dea will be made, and then an attempt to trace its origins will be undertaken. Bona Dea has been linked to a number of Greek goddesses as sources of possible influence, and this article will focus on a potential relationship with Damia.

Features that are noted in common between the Thesmophoria and the festival for Bona Dea include chastity, fasting and mourning, feasting, fertility, nocturnal rites, pig sacrifice and a restriction to female participants. Bona Dea, like Demeter, was clearly a fertility goddess and is usually associated with agricultural and female fertility (Versnel 1993, 231 and references). In terms of links to the Thesmophoria, the restriction to women, the secret nocturnal rites, feasting and chastity are all common threads. There is evidence that the main rite of the December festival was a pig sacrifice, a typically Demetrian choice.14 Lydus (Mens. 4.152; see also Brouwer 1989, 351-352) also mentions pig sacrifice to Demeter, in conjunction with Cronus, occurring in Rome in December.

There were two annual festivals for Bona Dea, one in May and the other in December, but surviving textual evidence does not provide enough detail to allow for a full reconstruction (Versnel 1993, 229). The only definite information that survives about the May festival is that a pig was sacrificed as part of the proceedings, that it was a women only event and wine was consumed (Macrob. Sat. 1.12.20-29). It was almost certainly held during the day, unlike the December event.11 It is clearly unwise to theorise too much on the May festival as the surviving evidence is so scarce, but it should be noted that all the evidence available does fit the idea of a Thesmophoria-like festival. The restriction to women and the pig sacrifice are obvious similarities, but Aristophanes suggests that the women at the Thesmophoria also drank wine (Aristoph. Thesm. 627634, 733-734; Aristoph. fr. 334).12 A feast is also probably indicated at the May festival for Bona Dea (Juv. 1.2.8290). A feast was also a feature of the Thesmophoria at Athens (Isaeus 3.80), although feasts are too common to base any firm conclusions on this fact.

The three other main criteria have less evidence for a strong connection. The mention of jesting is problematic in a Roman context, but makes sense if seen as a Romanised version of the Greek practice of aischrologia which commonly occurred at Demetrian festivals (Versnel 1993, 230).15 A connection has also been suggested between the bowers decorated with vine leaves, and the huts used in the Thesmophoria (Versnel 1993, 261). The timing has no connection to any known Thesmophoria festival; perhaps it may be theorised that it came from a pre-existing Italic festival. In addition, both festivals are associated with serpents (Thesmophoria: schol. Luc. Dial. Meret. 2.1, p.276 (Rabe); Ael. NA 9.26; Bona Dea: Macrob. Sat. 1.12.20-29), the drinking of wine (Thesmophoria: Aristoph. Thesm. 627634, 733-734; Aristoph. fr. 334. Bona Dea: Plut. Caesar 9-10; Plut. Quaest. Rom. 20; Macrob. Sat. 1.12.20-29), and with mysteries. There is ample evidence that the Thesmophoria were considered to be a mystery cult and mentions of initiation and secret rites abound.16 In a similar vein, the Bona Dea are connected to mysteries (for example App. Sic. fr. 7; Plut. Caesar 9).17 This suggests that the two festivals, the Thesmophoria and the festival for Bona Dea, may have been viewed as similar by their participants and the wider population.

There is slightly more information available for a reconstruction of the December festival. It is well-known that the rites of the Bona Dea were strictly restricted to women (Plut. Cicero 19; see Brouwer 1989 and sources therein). In fact, Plutarch specifies that nothing male, human or animal, was allowed to remain in the house during the rites of the Bona Dea and that the secrecy of the rites was considered paramount (Plut. Caesar 9-10; Plut. Quaest. Rom. 20). The December festival was held in the house of the highest state official and hosted by one of his female relatives (Plut. Cicero 19; Cass. Dio 37.45.1-2). The festival was nocturnal; Plutarch refers to all night celebrations and to a ritual fire (Plut. Caesar 9-10; Plut. Cicero 20). The sacrificial animal was a pig, either a young sow or a pregnant sow (Juv. 1.2.82-90; Macrob. Sat. 1.12.20-29). The cult image of the goddess was brought from the temple to the location of the festival (Versnel 1993, 230). Other elements which are attested are

There are also connections in myth between Bona Dea and Demeter/Ceres and Persephone. A myth exists about Bona Dea which clearly parallels a myth which previously related to Persephone (Brouwer 1989, 338, 340-343).   Versnel summarises festive eating and drinking, music and jests as all covered by the term ludere. 14   References abound, for example, see Jarman (1977, 177-179); White (1984, 20-21); Ruscillo (2013, 185). 15   See Brumfield (1996, 67-74) for a more in-depth study of aischrologia. 16   See footnote nine for references. 17   See Brouwer (1989, 359) and Rigsby (1996, 249) on the veracity of other sources. 13

  Brouwer (1989, 372) suggests that this is implied in Propertius 4.9.2170. 12   It is difficult to be sure how likely this is to reflect actual practice, as it is common to find women drinking immoderately in Aristophanes and other sources (Venit 1998, 125; Robertson 1999, 4). 11

13

Katherine R. L. McLardy The main scholarly theories on the origins of the Bona Dea have been either that she is a pre-Roman goddess, a Greek goddess adopted by the Romans, or a pre-Roman goddess completely overwhelmed by a Greek goddess (see Versnel 1993, 231-233). Instead, it is proposed here that Bona Dea was a pre-Roman goddess who was adopted by the Romans, hence the Latin name, and also modified by contact with the Greek goddess Damia, a variant of Demeter. Certainly Bona Dea was not overwhelmed; the only area in which a clear Greek influence can be seen is in the women’s festivals, while the basic cult shows no such influences. Brouwer (1989, 297-322) identifies cult centres for Bona Dea in Rome and a number of other locations throughout Italy and provides evidence for individual worship as far away as North Africa and England. This raises the possibility that the female only rites of the Bona Dea may have spread widely.21

Plutarch (Caesar 9.3) equates Bona Dea with the one of the mothers of Dionysus whose name cannot be divulged. This may best be identified with Persephone (Brouwer 1989, 341-342). Macrobius (Sat. 1.12.24) narrates a myth that Faunus had intercourse with his daughter, Bona Dea, in the shape of a serpent. This clearly echoes a myth of the origin of Dionysus (or sometimes Zagreus or Sabazius) whereby Zeus impregnates Persephone in the form of serpent.18 There are also sources connecting Ceres with Bona Dea (Brouwer 1989, 413, 418).19 Lactantius (Div. Inst. 3.20.34) mentions that a restriction against men is known only for the cults of Vesta, Ceres and Bona Dea. A passage from Cicero allows for multiple interpretations. Cicero (Leg. 2.9.21) states “nocturna mulierum sacrificia ne sunto praeter olla quae pro populo rite fient. neve quem initianto nisi, ut adsolet, Cereri Graeco sacro.

It seems likely that the cult of the Bona Dea was an old and well-established one. Cicero (Har. resp. 17.37-18.38) and Propertius (4.9) both relate stories that indicate that the cult was considered to be of great antiquity. Another important indication of the antiquity of the Bona Dea is references to wine being known as milk (Plut. Quaest. Rom. 20; Macrob. Sat. 1.12.20-29; Brouwer 1989, 328).22 This clearly supports the view that Bona Dea was a preRoman goddess, rather than an imported Greek goddess. Brouwer, in a discussion of the role of the serpent in the Bona Dea myth, makes an important point;23, he states “in all probability, the goddess’ chastity in the myth, and the emphasis put on it in the cult, especially the exclusion of men from the ritual” (italics mine), were originally not due to her Italic attributes. In this case, the Greek symbol caused the association (Brouwer 1989, 348).” In other words, it is possible that the restriction to female participants was not part of the original Italic cult, but was a later development which was influenced by the Greeks.24 The Thesmophoria, with its wide-spread celebration, is an obvious choice for this Greek influence.

‘Let there not be nocturnal sacrifices of women except those which happen for the people with the proper ritual. Nor let them imitate anyone except, as is usual, into the Greek rite of Ceres.” Brouwer (1989, 418) suggests that Cicero refers to the rites of the Bona Dea as nocturna sacrificia, which are then contrasted to the Greek rites of Ceres. Thus he (Brouwer 1989, 418) suggests tentatively that perhaps Greek influence upon both the cults, that of the Bona Dea and that of Ceres, led Cicero to group them together through a perceived likeness. These hints in the surviving literary sources suggest that there may have been some blurring of the lines between Bona Dea and Demeter/Ceres, possibly due to an inherent similarity of function. Influences The origins of the festival for Bona Dea are very important for defining its possible relationship to the Thesmophoria. One possibility is that Bona Dea was an ancient Roman or pre-Roman earth mother goddess, whilst another possibility is that the Bona Dea cult was adopted into Rome practically intact from Greece, and merged with a preexisting cult (Versnel 1993, 231-233). Three goddesses are usually advanced as possibilities for the Greek counterpart of Bona Dea; Damia, Hygieia and Agatha Thea (Versnel 1993, 232-233).20

When considering the route by which the Thesmophoria could influence the festival for Bona Dea, the proposed link discussed above with the Greek goddess Damia takes on a new importance. Although mentions of the connection between Bona Dea and Damia are quite late, sources refer to the sacrifice at the festival for Bona Dea as damium and   See also Lactantius (Div. Inst. 3.20.3) which is generally supposed to refer to the rites of the Bona Dea. 22   Brouwer (1989, 328) notes that milk-offering is normally associated with indigenous (e.g. pre-Roman) gods in Roman religion. 23   For this discussion see Brouwer (1989, 340-348). The reason for linking chastity, serpents and Greek influences appears to rely upon Brisson (1976, 51) which discusses a snake at Lavinium associated with a temple dedicated to Hera, which was able to identify whether young women were virgins. 24  The question of whether the Thesmophoria was restricted to aristocratic women is still a contentious one (see especially Brumfield 1999, 1-9; also Parker 2005, 271; Stallsmith 2009, 28), and the restriction, if it ever existed, may not have been universal. Bona Dea’s worship, in Rome at least, was definitely restricted to the aristocracy, but Brouwer (1989, xxiv, 323) contends it was certainly not restricted in this way outside of Rome. In addition, the priestesses appear to have generally been non aristocratic (Brouwer 1989, 371-372). 21

  Brouwer (1989, 342 fn. 145) provides considerable information on sources both ancient and modern. 19   The three texts to which he refers are Lactantius (Div. Inst. 3.20.34), Cicero (Leg. 2.9.21) and Macrobius (Sat. 1.12.20-29) in regards to the Persephone-Bona Dea snake connection discussed earlier. A small number of sources also connect Persephone with Bona Dea (e.g. Macrob. Sat. 1.12.20-29 and Brouwer 1989, 338). 20   Including those suggested as the goddess underlying the title of Bona Dea in ancient sources, there have been nine possibilities advanced. See Marquis (1974, 310-319). 18

14

Thesmophorian Influences in Rome the priestess as damiatrix,25 attributing the origin of these terms to the Greek goddess Damia (Fest. s.v. Damium; Placidus s.v. Damium; Paul. Fest. s.v. Damium). The earliest source for these is not extant but appears to have been Verrius Flaccus (Brouwer 1989, 237), writing in the Augustan period.26 Brouwer (1989, xxiv, 238) rightly notes that caution is needed when considering this connection, as the small number of sources seem to rely on the same non-extant text of Verrius Flaccus, and he also suggests that this source has been relied upon too heavily in past scholarship.27 A number of early scholars were much in favour of a direct identification of Damia with Bona Dea and considered them to be identical.28 As Brouwer (1989, 417) states, Demeter and Ceres were not identical, and thus it should not be expected that Bona Dea and Damia were any more identical. As argued above, it is not intended here to suggest that the goddesses were identical, but that their shared features enabled Damia to cast an influence on the pre-existing rites to the Bona Dea.

surviving textual sources from these areas. However, the existence of a thesmophorion is a reliable indicator that the Thesmophoria was most likely celebrated at a location. The worship of Damia and Auxesia is known mainly from Aegina (Hdt. 5.83; Paus. 2.32.2), Troezen (Paus. 2.32.2), and Epidauros (Hdt. 5.83; Paus. 2.32.2). The presence of a sanctuary dedicated to Demeter Thesmophoros is found in both Aegina and Troezen (Hdt. 6.91; Paus. 2.32.8). Festivals in honour of Damia and Auxesia in this region featured practices similar to aischrologia and secret rites (Hdt. 5.83); a clear link with the Thesmophoria is indicated. Tarentum, on the eastern edge of Magna Grecia, was a colony of Sparta, and a festival in honour of Damia was held there (Hsch. s.v. Dameia; Takacs 2008, 45). It has been suggested that when Tarentum was conquered by Rome in 272 BC, the Bona Dea festival was created on the arrival of Damia with the captured people of Tarentum (Versnel 1993, 232). Thesmophoria and ieiunium Cereris

The worship of Damia and Auxesia is first mentioned by Herodotus in the 5th century BCE (Hdt. 5.83). Damia and Auxesia are variously associated with the minor goddesses or graces, Karpo and Auxo, or with Demeter and Kore-Persephone. Although the view that Damia is merely a title of Demeter and Auxesia a title of KorePersephone is relatively late (Suda s.v. Amaia; Suda s.v. Azesia; see Versnel 1993, 234), there is already ample connections which suggest that they were versions of the same goddesses at an early date. Sacrifices to Damia and Auxesia were carried out, according to Pausanias (2.32.2), in “the same way as it is customary to sacrifice at Eleusis”, suggesting a link to the cult of Demeter and Kore. Polinskaya (2013, 272-278) concludes that the goddesses were similar, although not identical to Demeter and Kore.29 Some early scholars even labelled Damia and Auxesia as the Peloponnesian version of Demeter and Kore (Tod and Wace 1906, 29).30 From the first mention of Damia and Auxesia by Herodotus (5.83), there is talk of usage of abusive language, groups of women (paired with groups of men) and some form of secret rites. All of these, along with the clear links to Demeter and Kore, bring to mind the Thesmophoria. Demeter Thesmophoros is known in the areas where Damia and Auxesia were popular, but the Thesmophoria itself is not recorded in

Reconstruction A third festival has been identified with the Thesmophoria by modern scholars, the ieiunium Cereris (fast of Ceres). Farnell (1907, 101) suggests that this festival, which took place in early October (CIL I2 p. 331), was a direct importation of the second day of the Thesmophoria,31 albeit with no explanation as why this one day would be expanded to last for nine days (Liv. 36.37.4-5). It was instituted by a prophecy from the Sibylline books in 191 BCE (Liv. 36.37.4-5), and was eventually celebrated annually (CIL I2 p. 331). Spaeth (1996, 15) suggests it may have become part of the Greek rites of Ceres, but Vidman (1978, 92-94) disagrees, noting that there is no evidence for Greek rituals in honour of Demeter which were not held annually and thus contending that the ieiunium Cereris was typically Roman and showed no Greek influence.32 Le Bonniec (1958, 450-451) suggests that it was a Roman festival but that it was later influenced, in its annual form, by both the Thesmophorian and Eleusinian rites. Influences Despite academic speculation, there is no compelling evidence that suggests that the ieiunium Cereris was influenced by the Thesmophoria or other Greek rites of Demeter. It is not linked especially with a Greek origin in the extant primary source material, and Livy (36.37.4-5) provides specific information as to how and why it was instituted in Rome.

  It is interesting to note that Brouwer (1989, 371-372) suggests that the reference to the damiatrix may belong with the evidence relating to the May festival to Bona Dea, as there seems to be no place for such a priestess at the December event. 26   Festus edited the work of Verrius Flaccus, and it can be assumed his version most likely comes from this source. Paulus Diaconus composed an epitome of Festus and thus ultimately drew his information from the same source. Placidus draws on a number of sources, including Festus. It cannot be proven whether his interpretation is drawn from Festus and thus Verrius Flaccus, but it is the least informative of the three descriptions. 27   Brouwer (1989, 238) questions whether a local identification of Bona Dea with Damia had come to the attention of Verrius Flaccus. 28   For example, see RE III, 690; Farnell (1907, 101); Cumont (1932, 3-4). 29   See also Brumfield (1996, 69) for a similar viewpoint. 30   This is clearly an oversimplification but does indicate the particular association of these goddesses with this area. See Farnell (1907, 81, 113); Figueira (1993, 57-58); Versnel (1993, 234); Suter (2002, 202); Jayne (2003, 315). 25

  Similar conclusions appear outside of Anglophone scholarship, for example see Arbesmann 1929, 95 discussing Preller. 32   Marquis (1974, 333) notes similarities with the sacrum anniversarium Cereris without implying any actual connection. OCD s.v. fasting notes that the festival is a Greek import and that fasting in this fashion is not a typical Roman activity, they both cite only Livy (36.37.4-5) who does not mention Greek origins at all. 31

15

Katherine R. L. McLardy Conclusion

acknowledged Greek origin, although the Thesmophoria is not mentioned by name. It would appear odd then that another festival, the festival for Bona Dea, would have already existed incorporating facets of the same festival. However, if the Thesmophoria had been filtered through the cult of Damia to then influence the cult of the Bona Dea, the eventual relationship may not have been clear to the Romans. Especially if the festival for Bona Dea was influenced by the Thesmophoria prior to the establishment of the Greek festival of Ceres, as the dating seems to suggest, the hybrid cult may not have been similar enough to the original rites to negate the need for establishing Greek rites in honour of Ceres as well. These theories on the influence of the Thesmophoria on Roman women’s festivals provide a partial explanation for the complete, and inexplicable, absence of the Thesmophoria itself in Rome.

The evidence suggests that two of these three Roman festivals, the festival for Bona Dea and the Greek festival of Ceres, owed some debt to the Thesmophoria. In the absence of textual evidence which would allow a complete, day by day, reconstruction of the events of this Roman festival, the most reasonable assumption is that the Thesmophoria is the Greek rite that Cicero (Balb. 55) notes was imported into Rome from Greece (or Sicily). It is difficult to tell whether changes were made to adapt the festival for its new Roman audience, but it may have remained predominantly in its recognisable Greek form. It is clear that the unnamed festival in honour of Damia and Auxesia in the Peloponnese is linked to the Thesmophoria; perhaps it was in fact a local version still named the Thesmophoria, or, perhaps it may have been called the Dameia although it is not recorded under that name in Greece. A peculiar, and oft-mentioned, characteristic of the Thesmophoria is its wide exportation. Thus, it would be expected that a Thesmophoria-like festival in honour of Damia would be exported to new colonies such as Tarentum as a matter of course. Therefore, the following reconstruction is put forward. The Bona Dea was adopted (and adapted) by the Romans from a pre-Roman goddess, whose cult was practiced in Rome from quite an early stage, probably before 500 BCE. Around 272 BCE, with the Roman invasion of Tarentum, the cult came into contact with the cult of Damia and Auxesia, which may itself have been an offshoot of the Thesmophoria, and elements of the Thesmophoria were absorbed into the cult of the Bona Dea. It is here theorised that similarities would have been recognisable between Demeter, Ceres and Bona Dea and elements, such as their preoccupation with fertility and the association of snakes with their respective cults, which allowed this partial assimilation to be made. Upon contact, some elements, such as the exclusion of men and possibly aischrologia and pig sacrifice, which is also particularly associated with Ceres in Roman religion, were adopted into the cult of the Bona Dea. Other elements, such as the festival dates in December and May and the location of the festival at the house of a high-ranking official may have been part of the original Italic cult. Therefore, the festival for Bona Dea is best viewed as a hybrid cult, featuring a mixture of original elements and of elements sourced ultimately from the Thesmophoria.

Abbreviations OCD: Hornblower, S., Spawforth, A. and Eidinow, E. (eds.)(2012). The Oxford Classical Dictionary (4th edition). Oxford: Oxford University Press. RE: Pauly, A.F., Wissowa, G., Kroll, W., Witte, K., Mittelhaus, K. and Ziegler, K. (eds.)(1897). Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft. Stuttgart: J.B. Metzler. *All translations of ancient texts given in this article are the author’s own References Arbesmann, R. (1929). Das Fasten bei den Griechen und Römern. Giessen: A Töpelmann. Brisson, L. (1976). Le Mythe de Tirésias: Essai D’Analyse Structurale. Leiden, E.J. Brill. Brouwer, H.H.J. 1989. Bona Dea: The Sources and a Description of the Cult. Leiden: E.J. Brill. Brumfield, A. 1996. ‘Aporreta: Verbal and Ritual Obscenity in the Cults of Ancient Women’. In The Role of Religion in the Early Greek Polis, edited by Hägg, R. Stockholm: Paul Astroms Forlag, 67-74. Brumfield, A. 1999. ‘A Crowd of Vulgar Revellers; the Thesmophoriazousai at Athens’. In A Multiform Heritage, edited by Wright, B.G. Atlanta: Scholar’s Press, 1-9. Cumont, F. 1932. ‘La Bona Dea et Ses Serpents’. Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire 49: 1-5. Farnell, L.W. 1907. The Cults of the Greek States. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Figueira, T.J. 1993. ‘Herodotus on the Early Hostilities between Aigina and Athens’. In Excursions in Epichoric History: Aiginetan Essays, edited by Figueira, T.J. Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 3560. Jarman, M.R. 1973 ‘Preliminary Report on the Animal Bones’. In Knossos: The Sanctuary of Demeter,

The ieiunium Cereris, on the other hand, does not appear to have any good reason to be linked to the Thesmophoria. Although superficial similarities have led some earlier scholars to this conclusion, most modern sources agree that there is not a real case to be made for a Greek origin of this rite. Therefore, it is theorised that the reason for two festivals influenced by the Thesmophoria co-existing in Rome is that they arrived in Rome by different routes and at different times. It is possible that the connection was not recognised. The Greek festival of Ceres has an 16

Thesmophorian Influences in Rome edited by Coldstream, J.N. London: British School of Archaeology at Athens, 177-179. Jayne, W.A. 2003. Healing Gods of Ancient Civilizations. Whitefish: Kissinger Publishing. Kron, U. 1992. ‘Frauenfeste in Demeterheiligtumern das Thesmophorion von Bitalemi. Eine Archaeologische Fallstudie’. Archäologischer Anzeiger, 611-650. Le Bonniec, H. 1958: Le Culte de Cérès à Rome: Des Origines à la fin de la République. Paris: Librairie C. Klincksieck. Lowe, N.J. 1998. ‘Thesmophoria and Haloa. Myth, Physics and Mysteries.’ In The Sacred and the Feminine in Ancient Greece, edited by Blundell, G. and Williamson, M. New York: Routledge, 149-173. Lucchese, K.M. 2013. ‘Landscape Synchesis: A Demeter Temple in Latium’. In Mystic Cults in Magna Graecia, edited by Casadio, G. and Johnston, P.A. Austin: University of Texas Press, 161-189. Marquis, E.C. 1974. Elements of Roman Religion in the Fourth Book of Propertius. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Ottawa. Nilsson, M.P. 1906. Griechische Feste von religiőser Bedeutung mit auschlass der altischen. Leipzig: B.G. Teubner. O’Bryhim, S. 2008. ‘Myrrha’s ‘Wedding’ (Ov. Met. 10. 446-70)’. Classical Quarterly 58: 190-195. Polinskaya, I. 2013. A Local History of Greek Polytheism: Gods, People and the Land of Aigina, 800-400 BCE. Leiden: E.J. Brill. Rigsby, K.J. 1996. ‘Graecolatina’. Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 113: 249-252. Robertson, N. 1999. ‘The Sequence of Days at the Thesmophoria and the Eleusinian Mysteries’. Echos du Monde Classique/Classical Views 18: 1-33.

Ruscillo, D. 2013. ‘Thesmophoriazousai: Mytilenean Women and their Secret Rites’. In Bones, Behaviour and Belief: the Zooarchaeological Evidence as a Source for Ritual Practice in Ancient Greece and Beyond, edited by Ekroth, G. and Wallensten, J. Stockholm: Acta Instituti Atheniensis Regni Sueciae, 181-195. Salviat, F. 1958. ‘Une nouvelle loi thasienne: institution judiciares et fêtes religieuses à la fin du IVe siècle av. J.-C.’. Bulletin de correspondance hellénique 82: 193267. Spaeth, B.S. 1996. The Roman Goddess Ceres. Austin: University of Texas Press. Stallsmith, A.B. 2009. ‘Interpreting the Athenian Thesmophoria’. Classical Bulletin 84: 28-45. Suter, A. 2002. The Narcissus and the Pomegranate: an archaeology of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Takacs, S.A. 2008. Vestal Virgins, Sibyls and Matrons: Women in Roman Religion. Austin: University of Texas Press. Tod, M.N. and A.J.B. Wace. 1906. A Catalogue of the Sparta Museum. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Venit, M.S. 1998. ‘Women in Their Cups’. Classical World 92.2, 117-130. Versnel, H.S. 1993. Inconsistencies in Greek and Roman Religion: Transition and Reversal in Myth and Ritual. Leiden: E.J. Brill. Vidman, L. 1978. ‘Ieiunium Cereris quinquennale (en marge des Fasti Ostienses)’. Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 27: 87-95. White, D. 1984. The Extramural Sanctuary of Demeter and Persephone at Cyrene, Libya. Final Reports. Volume I: Background and Introduction to the Excavations. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania.

17

Rome, Chios, Cyzicus and Miletus: the Intercultural Value of the Roman Foundation Myth in the Second Century BCE Jonathan Ratcliffe Abstract The Roman foundation myth of the twins Romulus and Remus’ exposure in the wilderness is in many ways exemplary of the elevation of a local myth into a powerful symbol of imperial legitimacy. My approach to this subject will centre on three main case-studies from the Eastern Mediterranean during the second century BCE, an integral period in Rome’s cultural and military emergence beyond Italia into greater Greek cultural awareness. The first is the manufacture on Chios of a narrative of the Roman twins by an unknown benefactor in order to gain Rome’s favour; the second, the inclusion of the Roman myth as one of nineteen scenes in a temple constructed at Cyzicus by the Attalid rulers of Pergamon in honour of their mother. The third is the nativity myth of the eponymous founder of the city of Miletus, who in one second century BCE account, with many similarities to the Roman myth, is exposed and nursed by a pack of wolves. Throughout this exploration I will endeavour to illustrate the multifaceted nature of the Roman foundational myth and the way in which its different elements could appeal to diverse audiences who reappropriated and reshaped it for their own ends.

The Roman Wolf Myth

in the wilderness to die by Aemulius’ servants, but were saved by a nursing she-wolf. Later they are discovered by local herdsmen who bring them up and the boys go on to take back the throne of Alba Longa before leaving to build their own new city of Rome.

The Roman foundation myth of the twin sons of Mars, Romulus and Remus, their exposure in the wilderness and nursing by a she-wolf has in many ways long been regarded as “the least highly regarded root of western culture” (Scarborough 1994: 109) due to its many fantastical elements. For this reason its influence on world history and its intercultural value during the period of Rome’s ascension has often been neglected and requires further research.1 In this paper I will explore three casestudies from Anatolia and the Greek East during the second century BCE in which the Roman myth appears to have played a major influence. The first is an epigram from Chios which is the earliest evidence we possess of growing knowledge of the myth beyond Italia. The second is the choice to include the myth in a series of relief images in a temple dedicated to the theme of motherhood in Cyzicus. The third is Nicander of Colophon’s nativity of the eponymous founder of the city of Miletus - an obscure tale that has largely gone unexplored by scholars. As will be shown, this myth bears striking similarities with the exposure and nursing by a she-wolf found in the Roman foundation story and for this reason deserves greater scrutiny.

However, the versions we possess, in which the earliest fragments are imbedded, are largely from the Late Republican and Early Imperial Periods, by which stage the Roman foundation myth had become an integral symbol of Roman might through the war god Mars’ patronage of his founding sons and the rescuing she-wolf. The much older origins of the myth, though of indeterminable date, most likely stem from lupine imitation rituals in which the ferocious nature of the wolf was partaken in and possessed by elite groups and culture heroes throughout Ancient Italia, amongst the Etruscans, Sabines and Praenestines (Serv. ad.Aen.XI.785; Elliot 1995, 18ff; Wiseman 1995, 63-6; Kleiner 2010: XL). We possess archaeological evidence of such imitation rituals from at least the seventh century BCE onwards in the form of an Etruscan wolf mask and a bronze situla from Bisenzio, as well as later Etruscan images of confrontations with wolf-men on ash urns (Elliot 1995), and wolf nursing artefacts such as the Bologna stele and Praenestine cista from the fifth century BCE (ibid.; Wiseman 1995, 63-6).

The written versions of the Roman foundation myth we possess agree very closely on the following story leading back to the first influential versions of Ennius, Diocles of Peparethus and Fabius Pictor during the mid to late third century BCE (Enn. Frag. I. 31-100; Cic. Rep. II.2.4; Dion. Hal. I. 77-86; Liv. I.3-6; Ov.Fast.II.381-421; Plut. Vit. Rom. II-VII). According to these the Roman twins were born by their mother Ilia or Rhea Silvia – the daughter of the deposed king Numitor of Alba Longa and sister to Aemulius, a usurper who murdered her husband and locked her away so that she could not produce offspring to oust him. Seduced by Mars, Rhea Silvia’s sons were exposed

From what we can piece together the rise of the she-wolf nurse to a symbol of military and political power “owned” by Rome appears to have already begun during the early third century BCE with the first dedication of the image of a she-wolf by the twin Ogulnii brothers in 296 BCE, as well as path to their father, Mars’ temple (Liv. X.23.1112), and the subsequent minting of coins in 269 BCE by Q. Ogulnus featuring the scene of the twins’ nursing by the wolf (Mazzoni 2006, 180).2 In spite of this simple   With regard to the myth of the image of human children being nursed by wolves in the region, the traditionally accepted dating to the sixth century BCE of the Etruscan Lupa Capitolina statue, is now by many considered possibly a mediaeval Roman product of the ninth century CE (Carruba’s

2

  Mazzoni’s work (2006) is an important exception to this.

1

19

Jonathan Ratcliffe The Chian Epigram

elevation of a local symbol to one of political prominence, Rome’s Greek colonial neighbours do not seem to have shared the city state’s enthusiasm for the myth at this point. This may be evidenced in the defences contrived by Diocles and Fabius Pictor (Plut. Vit. Rom. III.4-7, VIII.7), who were writing largely for a Greek audience whose preconceptions regarding the myth included the city’s founding as a conglomeration of thieves and vagabonds (Dion. Hal. I.IV.2), and the she-wolf of the tale as little more than a euphemism for a prostitute (Dion. Hal. I. 84. 4; Liv. I. 4; Plut. Vit. Rom. IV.3).3

With the rise of greater Roman political and cultural influence beyond Italy around c.200 BCE, we may begin to see new and different opinions emerging on the Roman foundation myth from the Hellenistic cultures of the Eastern Mediterranean. Following the wars of 218-188 BCE that ended with the Hellenistic powers of Macedon, Carthage and the Seleucids defeated by a coalition of states fronted by Rome, the Italian city state took on the role of adjudicator between the remaining powers, and was key in the reconfiguring and rezoning of the rulership of the Eastern Mediterranean to those loyal to it in 189/188 BCE, often termed the “Asian Settlement” (Polyb. XXI. 18. 1-2, XXIII.17.4; Kay 2013, 140-141). Eckstein (2013, 173-90) has recently begun to reassess scholars’ long-held conceptions of isomorphic and unipolar Roman cultural and political hegemony in the Greek East from the events of 188 BCE onwards. Such studies suggest that Rome remained somewhat distant geographically and culturally, but due to lack of cooperation between the Greek states, appeals to Roman culture and protection became paramount tools in building strong relationships with the emergent superpower. It is with this in mind that I will read the three key re-appropriations of the myth of the Roman twins: not just as imitations of the growing superpower, but as artefacts possessing valid individual meanings to different audiences.

This same pejorative Greek rationalisation of myth is predated by the only other full narrative of exposure, animal nursing and rise to power from an upbringing amongst herdsmen we possess from antiquity, that of Herodotus’ story of the exposure of the Persian Great King Cyrus II (I. 107-110). In this myth Cyrus’ nurse is a woman called Cyno (bitch), and according to Herodotus (I. 107-110, 122.3), confusion with an actual miraculous dog-nurse was actively diffused by the Persians so as to create an image of divinity for their founder. Indeed Greek contributions and cultural lenses, whether negative or positive in their intention or reception, cannot be underestimated in the formulation of the literary Romulus and Remus. Greek colonial influence appears to have already begun generating its own founding myths for the peoples of Italy since at least the time of Hesiod (Theog. 1015), and in Dionysius (I. 72-73) we find listed a number of alternative founding myths for Rome involving Odysseus, Aeneas and several other Greek culture heroes.4 However, the major focus of this particular paper will be Greek reactions to the Roman foundation myth during Rome’s rise to power and prominence in the Eastern Mediterranean. In many ways what we will be seeing is simply a continued interweaving of Greek and Roman myth, but with the function of this process evolving, as emphasis moves from bringing Greek understandings into Italy to bringing Roman myth to diverse Greek audiences.

For instance, it is around the time of the Asian Settlement that an artefact commonly referred to as the Chian Epigram (SEG XXX. 1073)5 appears to have also been made and is perhaps the first and most important intercultural statement of the Roman founding myth outside of Italia. The inscription in question appears to have been dedicated by an anonymous Chian, and although its lettering would suggest the late third century BCE (Derow and Forrest 1982, 80), its content in which alliance with the might of the emerging Roman power is emphasised suggests the early second century BCE, following the defeat by the joint efforts of Greece’s independent city states, largely under Roman leadership, of Seleucid ruler and general Antiochus III during the 190’s BCE (Walbank 1990, 153-4 n. 131; Jones 1999, 92; Salvo 2013, 126-8). The inscription reads:

2006, 17-19; Mazzoni 2010, 36-7). For arguments against such theories see Lombardi (2002, 601-12; 2008, 37-8) and Carandini (2008, 67-72). 3   See Jocelyn (1971, 54-7) and Strasburger (1982: 1044-7) for notions that the Greeks created much of Roman foundational myth from a pejorative perspective. Wiseman (1995) and Bannon (1997, esp. 158168) concentrate their readings of the Romulus and Remus legend on the dynamic between the twins in myth and how this evolved over time due to political events between the patricians and plebeians. Whilst this is a very interesting and productive avenue to take regarding this myth, it is not entirely relevant for the focus of this paper. 4   Sophocles’ lost play Tyro also appears to have included an exposure myth making use of the key term σκάφη for the hollow vessel the child was placed in, echoing the wide use of the same term in relation to Romulus and Remus (Arist. Poet. 1454b 25 cf. Dion. Hal. I. 79.4; Plut. Vit. Rom. I. 3.4). Servius (ad. Aen. VIII. 345), excluding Perseus, also connects twin sons of Danaë as founding a community where Rome would later come to be. There are many examples of such legends – too many for this paper, but this would seem sufficient to show that the literary Romulus and Remus myth was most likely heavily influenced by Greek preconceptions and literary tropes.

“…He had made with his own money an offering to [the goddess] Roma at the cost of a thousand Alexandrian drachma…encompassing the origins of the founder of Rome, Romulus and his brother Remus, according to which it came about that they were fathered by Ares himself, which one might consider rightly to be true, due to the bravery of the Romans. He also took great care in the preparation of the shields which had been presented by the people   This epigram is also listed as SEG XVI. 486 in Derow and Forrest (1982, 80). Curiously Remus’ name may be clearly read, but Romulus’ has to be restored. However, there does not appear anything untoward about this, and no one is to suggest that this might be the case (cf. Bannon 1997, 159).

5

20

Rome, Chios, Cyzicus and Miletus A Roman Myth at Cyzicus

to those winners of the athletic tournaments and he was mindful that myths to the glory of the Romans were engraved on these same things.” (SEG XXX. 1073 lines 23-35. New readings Salvo (2013, 126-7). Trans. Ratcliffe 2013).

On the other hand, relationships between Rome and the Hellenistic states of the East could also be bolstered through the Roman foundation myth with seemingly very different aims and emphases than those found at Chios in mind. For instance we possess an inscription referring to a now lost relief image of the Roman twins in a temple in Cyzicus, tied to its rulers the Attalids of Pergamon, the other chief power in the Mediterranean at this time besides Rome itself. The relationship between Rome and Pergamon following the “Asian Settlement” is a complex and contradictory one in which the Attalid ruler, Eumenes II, received nearly the entirety of Anatolia west of the Taurus Mountains from the Romans because of his father Atallus I’s military efforts in conjunction with Rome (Polyb. XXI.48; Strab. XIII. 4.2). We even have it in Eumenes II’s own words that “I have obtained ruling authority from the Romans, who get power by war and treaty” (SEG XLVII, 1745; Kay 2013: 140), that he appears to have been fully aware that much of his power was in fact purely due to Rome’s beneficence, or at least claimed this publicly to win Roman approval. As a result Eumenes II appears to have keenly sought to curry Roman favour through regular visits to the city and cooperation with its senate to keep the peace in the Eastern Mediterranean (Polyb. XXI.18.1-2; Liv. XLII.11.1-3; XXX.19.11-12). He and his brother, the subsequent ruler Attalus II (r. 159-138 BCE), who appears to have been approved of far more by the Romans, seem to have been well received at Rome until c. 167 BCE, when the relationship seems to have changed due to increased Roman suspicions that the Attalids were plotting against them together with the Seleucids (Polyb. XXX.19.112, XXXI.1.6.8, 10; Kay 2013: 143). Thus it is extremely curious to note during this period the strong possibility of the inclusion of the Roman twins as a relief image on a column at Cyzicus in Asia Minor, in a temple dedicated to the two Attalid rulers’ very own mother, Apollonis.

As we may see from the inscription, this public announcement appears to have been accompanied by a narrative of the Roman foundation legend, though the nature of this remains difficult to deduce, as the opaque Greek participle that is used: περιέχον (“encompass, comprise”) in describing the offering, gives no clue as to the nature of the accompanying artefact(s) “of the origin of the Roman founder”. Some scholars such as Jones (1999, 92) have suggested that what is indicated is a shewolf statue such as that of the Ogulnii brothers, and/or a series of scenes manufactured in the manner of a frieze as we find at the temple of Athena in Tegea, illustrating the exposure of the hero Telephus in the fourth century BCE, and shortly after the Chian inscription, the images of Telephus’ abandonment in the wilderness and animal nursing on the Great Altar of Pergamon. Others, to the contrary, have suggested that perhaps a written inscription of the foundation is meant instead (Derow and Forrest 1982, 85-6). Salvo (2013, 130-3) has recently taken a theoretical both/and approach to this, as determining either of these would appear almost impossible, though such inclusiveness does not seem to bring the issue any closer to a solution. The awarding of Roman scenes to athletes as prizes, however, clearly demonstrates the heavily political and propagandising overtones inherent in this first key instance of Roman foundational myths’ appearance beyond Italia. The way in which Roman culture is synthesised into the Greek tradition in this inscription and the Roman imagery on the shields - whether it is the recognition of Mars as Greek Ares, or the perceived coordination between the spirit of the Roman people and the god Ares, not only suggests an industrious attempt to gain Roman political favour, but also the of raising Roman mythic culture to the level of that of the Greeks. All of this would seem to be a far cry from the consolations to Greek culture and anti-Roman propaganda against which the first historians of Rome had to phrase their approaches to the topic of legitimising the city state. The reason for this change is obviously the rising might of Rome itself in the region, and, as Jones (1999, 91-2) has deftly said on this inscription and its precedential nature, “myths as a means for small powers to influence great ones increasingly concentrated” from this point onwards through “exchanges of ceremony and courtesy.” It is with this in mind that we should now look to the other case studies of the Roman foundation myth in the Eastern Mediterranean at this time and the multivalent way in which such symbolic and ritualistic relationships could develop.

The purpose of the temple of Apollonis at Cyzicus’ appears to have been to celebrate familial love – particularly that between mothers and sons (Merkelbach and Stauber 2001, 18; Livingstone and Nesbit 2010, 100). Apollonis, in fact a native of Cyzicus, was celebrated during her lifetime and following it as a paragon of motherhood, due to the fact that her two sons Eumenes II and Attalus II appear to have made great efforts to display their love for her, her virtue, and the brothers’ mutual goodwill towards one another publicly (Polyb. XXII. 20; Plut. Mor. 480c; Strab. XIII. 4.2). She also appears to have been at least partially deified during her own lifetime before her death c. 175 BCE with the title eusebes (“pious”) (OGIS 308; Walbank 1993, 217), had a city named after her by Euemenes II (Strab. XIII.4.3-5), and shortly following the death of Eumenes II c. 159 BCE we possess an inscription detailing plans to erect a temple at Teos to both him and Apollonis and the appointing of priests for their cults (OGIS 309; Walbank 1993, 217). Thus it appears that the temple at Cyzicus also dates to a similar period - between 175 and 159 BCE (Demoen 1988, 231; Livingstone and Nesbit 2010, 100). A 21

Jonathan Ratcliffe of the Roman founding myth, retained in Plutarch’s Life of Romulus (II.3-5), is the mother a servant girl such as the descriptions naming her Servilia (“servile woman”) suggests. This alternate mother of the Roman twins is a serving maid, impregnated whilst sweeping the fireplace by a hearth god instead of Mars. These details are in keeping with several other exposure myths of Roman and Italic culture heroes such as that of the servant mother of the king of Rome Servius Tullius (Plut. Mor. 323d), and the mother of Caeculus, the founder of Praeneste (Serv. ad. Aen. VII.678-681; Bremmer and Horsfall 1987, 42), who are also recorded as having similar experiences with hearth deities. Thus this epigram would appear to bridge the gap between the twins’ mother as a servant and as the deposed king’s sister, as is found in the more common “fixed” versions of the official national myth, and substantiate its dating to an earlier period when more diverse versions of the myth were more common. It would also seem very strange for a first or second century CE or later writer to suddenly rename or misname the mother of such important figures without explanation.

description of the Roman influenced relief in question and its epigram are recorded in the sixth century CE Anthologia Palatina, perhaps the only remaining record of this temple and its contents. The inscription accompanying the relief image of the Roman twins is said to have read: “In the nineteenth [image] Remus and Romulus are freeing their mother, Servilia by name, from the cruelty of Aemulius. For Ares, having raped her, fathered them upon her, and [when] they were exposed, a she-wolf nursed them. Thus, the adolescents freed their mother from her imprisonment, and having founded Rome, restored the kingdom to Numitor. ‘You brought forth the secret birthing of the children to Ares, Remus and Romulus who share the couch, but a wild she-wolf, nursing [them] reared [them] in a cave, and they snatched you away from your toils that were hard to heal’” (Anth. Pal. III. 19; trans. Ratcliffe 2013). It is important to note that Meyer ([1911] 2010 III.19) deleted this epigram of Romulus and Remus owing to personal assumptions regarding the impossibility of the Roman myth to have been known in Antatolia during the second century BCE and the lack of a twentieth epigram suggesting incompleteness or a late addition of the Roman twins in the nineteenth and final place. However, as Salvo (2013, 133) has very recently contended, the existence of the Chian inscription refutes such a stance, and the possibility of twenty reliefs is a far more reasonable suggestion. Thus, together these two instances would appear to vindicate the notion that the Roman foundation myth was indeed well known outside of Rome during this period, though this must be qualified in that it may only have been by those who had had close dealings with the city state. Livingstone and Nesbit’s (2010, 100) theories, to the contrary, that this epigram is a later invention of perhaps the first or second century CE, and their description of it as Greek myth “… succumbing to the gravitational pull of Roman elite ideology of the family… as a series of prototypes for the moral and social values of the new Mediterranean superpower” would seem to overanalyse the text and grant perhaps too much deliberate political purpose to this inscription. Rather as Massa-Pairault (2007, 154) has recently remarked, the choice of including Romulus and Remus as a relief image may merely be a symbol of the goodwill between Pergamum and Rome at the time of the temple’s creation, which would seem to suggest that it was made prior to the falling out between Rome and the Pergamese rulership (Polyb. XXX.19.1112, XXXI.6.1-8) and sets its most reasonable dating as during the 170’s BCE.

For that matter, rather than a necessarily conscious political purpose, we should perhaps simply pay heed to the role and nature of the Roman myth in relation to the temple itself. To the Attalid rulers the myth may have been reappropriated more because of the strong moral value it seems to possess in regard to the boys and their loyalty to their mother and “snatching her away...from her toils hard to heal” than for other reasons. This is an element not emphasised in any Roman variant of the founding legend, but one which fits very strongly with the temple’s obvious content and purpose. Thus, although we cannot know whether the scene was deliberately intended for a political purpose, it appears more likely that the story was simply reappropriated and reshaped due to its perceived narrative and moral value, exemplifying its different nature to different observers. The Nativity of Miletus To add to this, as a third case-study, we should also discuss the lupine foundational myth of the Ionian city of Miletus, which also appears to descend back as far as the second century BCE, and upon inspection, would also seem to share uncannily similar elements with the Romulus and Remus narrative. This Milesian myth is found in only a single extant source: the Metamorphoses of Antoninus Liberalis, a second century CE writer who most likely lived during the Antonine Emperors of Rome (Celoria 1992, 10-6). Liberalis names his own source as a certain Nicander of Colophon, a poet who flourished during the last of the Attalids, Attalus III (r.138-133 BCE) (Nic. fr. 104), before the kingdom of Pergamon was willed to Rome in 133 BCE, after which it became the Roman province of Asia (Kosmetatou 2003, 159-174). The work of Nicander that this tale comes from, the Heteroiomena, is said to have contained the myth as follows:

We should also note in defence of the notion of this epigram and relief’s existence during the second century BCE that the mother of Romulus and Remus in Late Republican and Early Imperial sources is given as Rhea Silvia (Cic. Rep. II.2.4; Dion. Hal. I. 77-86; Liv. I.3-6; Ov.Fast.II.381-421; Plut. Vit. Rom. II-VII). Only in an older alternate version

22

Rome, Chios, Cyzicus and Miletus “Byblis 30. Recounted in the second book of the Heteroiomena of Nicander. ‘Miletus, the son of Apollo and Akakallis, the daughter of Minos, was born in Crete. Fearing Minos, she abandoned him in the woods, and some wolves came upon him and at the wish of Apollo they protected him and nursed him in turn. Later some cowherds came upon him by chance and took him in, and they brought him up in their households. But when the boy grew up and became handsome and strong, Minos in desire for him tried to rape him. (Because of this) Miletus at night then boarded a skiff, at the advice of Sarpedon, and escaped to Caria. Having founded the city of Miletus there, he married Eidothea, the daughter of Eurotos, the king of the Carians” (trans. Ratcliffe 2013).

wandering and arrival in the region of Lycia in Anatolia with her children, persecuted by Hera, after giving birth to them at Delos. In Lycia, Leto is aided by a pack of wolves and rewards them by renaming the country from Tremila to Lycia - lykos being Greek for wolf, which was a very common Greek folk-etymology for the region (Hdt. I. 173; Paus. I. 19. 3; Alex. Polyhist. frag. 84 ap. Steph. Byz. “Τρεμίλη”; Apollod. Bib. II.3.2; Servius ad. Aen. IV.377). The most famous incarnation of this myth is told by Ovid (Met.VI. 317-381), but finds its earliest reference in connection to Menecrates of Xanthos in the fourth century BCE, with Nicander of Colophon himself as a key intermediary recorder of this myth and influence on the later version of Ovid (Hansen 1971, 426-7; Gow and Scholfield 2010, 206-8). Antoninus gives the myth as follows, including, vitally, his debt to Menecrates and Nicander for its material (Ant. Lib. 35),

Although the story of Miletus’ daughter Byblis, under whose name her father’s tale is included, appears to extend back at least as far as the third century BCE via Aristocritus and Nikainetos, who are mentioned in the first century BCE poet Parthenius (Erot. Path. 11), the figure of Miletus himself and the history of his mythic narrative are a little more complex. What Nicander appears to have said concerning Miletus, when examined, is but one version of an already existing series of diverse myths concerning this figure. For instance, the epitome of Apollodorus’ Bibliotheka (III.1.2) and the scholiast on Theocritus’ Idylls (VIII.5.15 ap. Koch et al. 1832, 255) agree that Miletus’ father was indeed Apollo but tells us that his mother was actually called Areia, the daughter of the Cretan Cleochus. Further, the scholiast on Apollonius’ Argonautica (I.185 ap. Koch et al. 1832, 255) also represents him as the son of Euxantius, who was the son of Minos - inverting the side on which Cretan ancestry is present. Miletus himself appears to be a product of the third century BCE onwards, as is testified by recognised links between the city and the similarly named city of Milatus in Crete c. 225 BCE (Milet. 1.3 33f6-14, 33y 1-4 ap. Fontenrose 1988, 64, 182; Gorman 2001, 19-20). Comparatively, the oikist Sarpedon is mentioned amply in classical sources from at least Herodotus’ time (Hdt. V.79.3, VII.9.2; Apollod. Epit.Bib. III.3.1-2; Paus. VII.3.7; Strab. XII.8.5). Most importantly, we also read that Areia, like Akakallis, abandoned Miletus in the wilderness, but in this instance in a milax plant, from whence his name is regarded as having been derived, where Cleochus later found him (Schol. ad. Arg. I. 185 ap. Koch et al. 1832, 255). This reveals the importance of exposure in the story of Miletus, one which as will be shown most likely later affected the addition of the nursing by wolves from the Roman story of their abandoned founders, Romulus and Remus.

“35. The Herdsmen. As Menekrates the Xanthian recounts in his Lycian History and Nicander in his Heteroiomena. ‘Leto, when she had given birth to Apollo and Artemis on the isle of Asteria, went to Lycia, carrying her children to the waters of the Xanthos….some herdsmen drove her away so that their cows could drink from the stream and because of that Leto left behind Melite and went onwards. Some wolves accompanied her and led the way and took her all the way to the river Xanthos…She changed the name of the land, called Tremilis, to that of Lycia on account of the helpful wolves. And when she left the stream she exacted punishment upon the herdsmen who had driven her away….” (trans. Ratcliffe 2013). Firstly it is necessary to state that the theme of Leto’s persecuted wanderings appear to be first found in the Hymn to Delian Apollo (III.2ff), in which the goddess wanders to many of her and her children’s sacred sites, but choses to preference Delos. In the same way at other locations, local myth could in turn preference its own sacred sites, such as the river Xanthos in the Lycian myth as part of a narrative structure connected with this wandering deity who could easily be reappropriated. Bryce (1983, 1-13) has suggested that this myth in some ways is aetiological of the arrival of the Letoids during late fifth century BCE into the region under increased Hellenisation, where Leto appears to have been placed over the top of a Luwian mother goddess lada (“mother”).6 The lupine element in the Lycian tale and its connections with the Letoids, however, remain curious and difficult to date, though Apollo’s Homeric title Lycogenes (Il. IV.101), whether meaning light-born or wolf-born (Ruck 1992, 233; Celoria 1992, 204), is perhaps the earliest.7 As the Lycian wolf-myth appears to go back

However, the lupine element in Nicander’s myth involves an entire pack of wolves as serial nurses - rather than a single one as we find in the Roman myth. Rather, this element possesses strong connections both with Greek myths of the origin of the Anatolian region of Lycia, and more importantly Nicander’s role in disseminating such tales. This is in relation to the myth of the goddess Leto’s

 Apollo, however, appears a late-comer as a deity in the region of Lycia and his patronage of Sarpedon in Homer should perhaps be taken as a personal one and not a link between this region and the deity in the Archaic period (Hom. Il. XVI. 527-532, 667-683; Bryce 1983, 11). 7   Servius (ad. Aen. IV. 377) provides a long list of myths linking Apollo with wolves, though most seem to be slightly garbled and are not attested at all or expanded in other sources. There is the possibility that links 6

23

Jonathan Ratcliffe as far as the fourth century BCE under Menecrates of Xanthos and his Lycian history, we should note that it is in this same period we may read in Aristotle (Hist. An. U3r) the story that Leto had arrived from the mythic northern land of Hyperborea to Delos to give birth to her children in the shape of a she-wolf in yet another tale of her persecuted wanderings. Whichever of these lupine connections with the goddess preceded the other, it would only seem reasonable to suggest that Nicander’s knowledge of the Lycian myth and his role as one of its chief tellers was paramount when adding the element of en masse lupine assistance to the story of Miletus under the patronage of his father Apollo, which would seem to very closely mirror Mars’ patronage of Romulus and Remus through a similar wolf-nursing.

perceived it. Indeed, Romulus and Remus could be used to influence Rome’s favour by attempting to elevate it to the level of Greek culture, as it appears to have been at Chios. Yet, the twins could also be used to celebrate the virtue of motherhood and the loyalty of sons, as is emphasised at Cyzicus. Just as differently, elements of their tale could, so it seems, simply add another aesthetic layer to the artistic expression of myths of foundation already in existence in connection with figures such as the multifaceted body of myths concerning Miletus. Where in the past some have sought to find a single enduring Rome and Romulus and Remus, what we find instead is a multitude of ever evolving pairs of Roman twins, and with further attention to this aspect, much more valuable research on the history of Roman myth is soon likely to follow.

Thus, in spite of the importance the Lycian myth most likely exerted on the creation of this new myth of Miletus, there remains the matter that whilst strongly tied to Anatolian myth of the Letoids (Ant. Lib. 35), it does not account for the more obvious elements of wolf-nursing itself and Miletus’ subsequent raising by herdsmen (Ant. Lib. 30). The element of the discovery and upbringing of the founding figure by herdsmen is also a key element of the Romulus and Remus myth (Dion. Hal. I. 84. 4; Liv. I. 4; Plut. Vit. Rom. IV.3) and sits in direct opposition to the herdsmen who are punished in the Lycian myth (Ant. Lib. 35). For that matter, aside from the Romulus and Remus myth and perhaps that of the aforementioned myth of Cyrus’ exposure in the wilderness (Hdt. I. 107-10, 122), which, as noted, may have affected the construction of the literary Romulus and Remus, other myths with a similar narrative of exposure-canine nurse-herdsmen are not recorded in the classical tradition. There are animalnursing myths ascribed to figures such as Zeus, Telephus, Paris and Nelias (Ael. Var. Hist. XIII. 42; Hyg. Fab.252; Luc. de Sacr. 5), but these remain opaque and undeveloped in all the sources we possess, without recourse to either wolves or herdsmen at all. It would not at all seem unreasonable to suggest that the Roman myth played a key role in Nicander’s reworking of the story of Miletus for purely artistic rather than political purposes, catalysed by the thematic wolf/herdsmen connection between the Roman and Lycian myths. Miletus was simply a figure, as seen, liable to be the recipient of diverse, evolving artistic narratives.

References Primary Sources Apollodorus and Epitome. 1921. The Library, translated by Fraser, J.G. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Aristotle. 1970. Poetics, translated by Else, G. F. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Aristotle. 1983. The Generation of Animals, translated by Peck, A.L. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Byzantinus, S. 1678. Stephanus De Urbibus quem Primus Thomas De Pinedo Lusitanus Latii jure donabat, & Observationibus Scrutinio Variarum Linguarum. Amsterdam: Jacobus de Jonge. Available from, www. googlebooks.com. Last accessed 4/6/13. Cicero. 2005. Cicero, Vol. XVI, translated by Keyes, C.W. et al. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Dionysius of Halicarnasus. 2001. Roman Antiquities, translated by Cary, E. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Dittenberger, W. 1903. Orientis Graecae Inscriptiones Selectae Vol. I. Leipzig: S. Hirzel. Available from: https://archive.org/details/orientisgraeciin01dittuoft. Last accessed, 10/02/2014. Dübner, F. 1871. Epigrammatum Antologia Palatina Vol. I, edited by Firin-Didot, F. Paris: Institutus Francicus Typogrpahus. Ennius. 1956. Remains of Old Latin I: Ennius and Caecilius, translated by Warmington, E. H. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Herodotus. 2012. The Persian Wars Vol. I, translated by Godley A.D. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Hesiod. 2007. Hesiod: Vols. I, translated by Most, G. L. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Hyginus. 1960. The Myths of Hyginus, translated by Grant, M. Lawrence: University of Kansas Press. Hymn to Delian Apollo in Hesiod et al. 1914. Hesiod, the Homeric Hymns, and Homerica, translated by Evelyn-

Throughout this paper it has been shown that elements of Romulus and Remus appear to have been more widely known and reappropriated in second century BCE Eastern Mediterranean than was previously assumed by scholars. In spite of the lack of attention that has been brought to bear on the Roman foundation myth’s intercultural value beyond Italia and the immediate sphere of Roman political symbolism, it is clearly the case that the myth in question was not a solid, unchanging entity with only a single means of appeal, such as colonial power, to those who between Apollo and wolves may not only have been quite diverse, but also no longer well understood by the Roman period.

24

Rome, Chios, Cyzicus and Miletus Secondary Sources

Whyte, H. G. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Hermann, P. 1914. Die Inscriften von Milet. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter Verlag. Homer. 1999. The Iliad, translated by Wyatt, W.F. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Liberalis, A. 1832. Antonini Liberalis Transformationum Congeries, edited and annotated by Koch, G. A. et al. Leipzig: Libraria Dyckiana. Available from: www. googlebooks.com. Last accessed: 12/3/13. Livy. 1978. History of Rome, translated by Foster, B.O. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Lucian. 1921. Works: Vol. III, translated by Harmon, A. M. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Nicander of Colophon. 2010. Poems and Poetical Fragments, translated by Gow, A.S. F. and Scholfield, A. F. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ovid. 1959. Fasti, translated by Fraser, J.G. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Ovid. 1984. Metamorphoses, translated by Miller, F. J. and Goold, G. P. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Parthenius. 1916. Daphnis and Chloe, Parthenius, translated by Thomley, G. and Edmonds, G. M. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Pausanias. 1977. Description of Greece, translated by Jones, W.H.S. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Pleket, H. W. et al. 1980. Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum XXX. Boston and Leiden: E.J. Brill Academic Publishers. Pleket, H. W. et al. 1997. Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum XLVII. Boston and Leiden: E.J. Brill Academic Publishers. Plutarch. 2005. Lives, Vols. I, translated by Perrin, B. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Plutarch. 2006. Moralia, Vol. III, translated by Babbitt, F.C. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Polybius. 2006. The Histories, translated by Habicht, C. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Servius. 2011. Servii Grammatici Qui Feruntur In Virgilii Carmina Commentarii, translated by Thilom G. and Hermann, H. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Strabo. 1930. Geography, translated by Lloyd- Jones, H. Harvard: Loeb Classical Library, Harvard University Press. Tzetzes, J. 1793. Ioannis Tzetzae Antehomerica, Homerica et Posthomerica, translated and edited by Jacobs, F. Leipzig: Libraria Weidmannia. Available from: http,// archive.org/details/ioannistzetzaea00jacogoog. Last accessed: 8/10/13.

Bannon, C. J. 1997. The Brothers of Romulus. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Bryce, T. R. 1983. “The Arrival of the Goddess Leto in Lycia,” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte, 32: 1-13. Bryce, T. R. 2013. The Routledge Handbook of the Peoples and Places of Ancient Western Asia, The Near East from the Early Bronze Age to the Fall of the Persian Empire. New York: Routledge Publishing, Taylor and Francis Publishing. Carandini, A. 2008. “L’opinione di uno studioso di Roma antica,” in Archeologica Classica 5.2, La Lupa Capitolina. Nuove prospettive di studio. Incontrodibattito in occasione della pubblicazione del volume di Anna Maria Carruba, La Lupa Capitolina, un bronzo medievale, edited by Bartoloni, G. Rome: Bretschneider Publishers, 67-72. Carandini, A. (Sartarelli, S. trans.) [2007] 2011. Rome, Day One. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Originally published as, Roma. Il primo giorno. Rome, Roma-Bari. Carruba, A. M. 2006. La Lupa Capitolina, Un Bronzo mediaevale. Rome: De Luca Publishers. Celoria, F. 1992. Introduction and notes in Liberalis, A. (Celoria, F. trans.) The Metamorphoses of Antoninus Liberalis. London and New York: Routledge Publishing, Taylor and Francis Publishing. Demoen, K. “The Date of the Cyzicene Epigrams, An Analysis of the Vocabulary and Metrical Technique of Ap. III,” L’Antiquité Classique T.57: 231-48. Derow, P. S. and Forrest, W. G. 1982. “An Inscription from Chios,” British School at Athens 77: 79-92. Eckstein, A.M. 2013. “What is an Empire and How Do You Know When You Have One? Rome and the Greek States after 188 BCE,” Antichthon 47: 173-90. Elliot, J. 1995 “The Etruscan Wolfman in Myth and Ritual,” Etruscan Studies 2.1: 16-33. Fontenrose, J. E. 1988. Didyma, Apollo’s Oracle, Cult and Companions. Berkeley: University of California Press. Forsythe, G. 2006. A Critical History of Early Rome, From Prehistory to the First Punic War. Berkeley: University of California Press. Gorman, V. B. 2001. Miletos, the Ornament of Ionia. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Gow, A.S. F. and Scholfield, A. F. 2010. Introduction and Commentary in Nicander of Colophon Poems and Poetical Fragments. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hansen, E. V. 1971. Cornell Studies in Classical Philology Vol. XXXVI, The Attalids of Pergamum. Second Edition, Revised and Expanded. London: Cornell University Press. Jones, C. P. 1999. Kinship and Diplomacy in the Ancient World. Harvard: Harvard University Press. Kay, P. 2013. “What Did the Attalids Ever Do For Us? A View from the Aerarium,” in Attalid Asia Minor, Money, International Relations and the State, edited

25

Jonathan Ratcliffe Merkelbach, R. and Stauber, J. 2001. Steinepigramme aus den grieschen Osten, Vol. II. Munich and Leipzig: K. G. Saur Verlag. Meyer, H. [1911] 2010. De Anthologiae Palatinae Epigrammatis Cyzicenis. Königsberg: Disseration Königsberg University, (reprint) Charleston: Nabu Press. Patterson, L. E. 2010. Kinship Myth in Ancient Greece. Austin: University of Texas Press. Ruck. C. A. P. 1992. “Lycians,” in Persephone’s Quest, edited by Wasson, R. G. New Haven: Yale University Press, 232-5. Salvo, I. 2013. “Romulus and Remus at Chios Revisited, A Re-examination of SEG XXX 1073,” in. Oxford Studies in Classical Documents, Epigraphical Approaches to the Post-Classical Polis, edited by Martzavou, P. and Papazarkadas, N. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 125-38. Scarborough, M. 1994. Myth and Modernity, Postcritical Reflections. Albany: State University of New York Press. Walbank, F. W. 1990. Polybius. Berkeley: University of California Press. Walbank, F. W. 1993. The Hellenistic World. Revised Edition. Harvard: Harvard University Press. Wiseman, T. P. 1995. Remus: A Roman Myth. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

by Thonemann, P. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 121-148. Kleiner, F. S. 2010. A History of Roman Art, Enhanced Edition. Melbourne: Cengage Learning Australia. Koch, G. A. et al. 1832. Notes in Liberalis, A. Antonini Liberalis Transformationum Congeries. Leipzig: Libraria Dyckiana. Available from, www.googlebooks. com. Last accessed 12/3/13. Kosmetatou, E. 2003. “The Attalids of Pergamon,” in A Companion to the Hellenistic World, edited by in Erskine, A. Oxford: Blackwell Press. 159–174. Livingstone, N. and Nesbit, G. 2010. Greece and Rome, New Surveys in the Classics 38, Epigram. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lombardi, G. 2002. “A Petrographic Study of the Casting Core of The Lupa Capitolina Bronze Sculpture (Rome, Italy) and Identification of its Provenance,” Archaeometry 44.4: 601-12. Lombardi, G. 2008. “Lo studio dei residui di terra di fusione,” in Archeologica Classica 5.2, La Lupa Capitolina. Nuove prospettive di studio. Incontrodibattito in occasione della pubblicazione del volume di Anna Maria Carruba, La Lupa Capitolina, un bronzo medievale, edited by Bartoloni, G. Rome: Bretschneider Publishers, 37-38. Massa-Pairault, F-H. 2007. Le Gigantomachie de Pergame ou l’image du Monde. Paris: de Boccard Publishing. Mazzoni, C. 2010. She-Wolf: The Story of a Roman Icon. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

26

Textual Analysis

Aspects of the Judiciary in the Egyptian Old Kingdom Caleb R. Hamilton

Abstract This paper addresses aspects of the judiciary, focusing on the courts, during the Egyptian Old Kingdom. The proposal that the Egyptian administration during the Old Kingdom was divided into five parts (the treasury, agriculture, royal archives, works and the judiciary) prompts this paper to explore the judicial part of the administration by focusing on the different courts that made up the judicial branch. It will be proposed that the courts that existed formed a hierarchy that Egyptians could appeal to when disputes arose and conflict resolution was required. The evidence for the court system comes from the inscriptional records dating from the Old Kingdom. It is through their examination that the judiciary will be outlined in regards to what courts made up the legal branch of the Egyptian administration for this time period. This will cover the provincial tribunals or councils (the so-called DADAt), the Great Courts (Hwt wrt), as well as the special tribunals, such as the Hall of Horus (sxw-@r/wsx.t-@r) or the unique ‘Mansion of the Prince’, as mentioned in the Pyramid Texts.

Introduction

It is proposed here that there was a central court structure to the legal system, made up of six Great Courts (the Hwt wrt), which could be complemented in the nomes by local councils that had judicial aspects to their roles in supporting the local governors (the DADAt). As will be discussed, the evidence for two different central legal courts, the Hwt wrt 6 and the Hwt wrt, based mostly on titles, can be better understood with these titles seen as a superior office and a junior office working within one juridical institution, which was made up of six of Hwt wrt. Before the discussion of the courts, including the Hwt wrt, the DADAt and the sxw-@r/wsx.t-@r, a brief exposition of the legal administration is provided, to give context to these institutions, within the political structure of the period.

From an early phase of their history, the ancient Egyptians established an administration and developed a bureaucracy in order to help organise processes within the Egyptian state, such as resource procurement, taxation, the organisation of labour, the construction of monumental architecture and a process of dispute resolution (Wilkinson 1999, 111-113; Engel 2013, 19). This administration allowed for the creation and development of a legal service as well as the establishment of a series of courts that could accommodate dispute resolution. It is acknowledged from the outset that evidence for this legal administration is limited; though enough remains to piece together the fragments of a variety of courts. Such evidence exists in the form of biographical accounts, titles that officials held, as well as tomb-scenes and papyri fragments. It is worth making a brief mention of those officials who were involved in the Egyptian administration and had an impact on the court structure within the Egyptian legal system. Such officials left evidence through their titles, often found in the biographies of the Old Kingdom. While this evidence is useful, it is only treated here insofar as required to extrapolate on the judiciary of the period. This work should not be seen as an exhaustive discussion of their roles/offices, as the spatial limitations and focus of this work does not permit this; however, works by Lippert (2008), Philip-Stéphan (2008), Strudwick (1985),1 Helck (1954), as well as those complemented by Martin-Pardey (1984; 1989; 1994) and Callender (2000) are of use in this regard. What this evidence does provide is a glimpse of the hierarchical nature of the court structure, from the king down, as well as the different types of courts that the Egyptians may have had during the Old Kingdom. It also allows us to see some of the officials that conducted certain roles in the courts of this period.

Legal Administration in the Old Kingdom The ancient Egyptian legal system seems to have had a semi-hierarchical nature, with a series of councils and courts (Philip-Stéphan, 2004).2 This is not surprising given that the administration of Egypt had its apex at the head of a monarchical system. At this apex was the king (Papazian 2013, 46). It is the king who delegated authority, as the head of state, by granting administrative positions to a skilled, and at times literate (Wilkinson 1999, 115),3 group of elite individuals around him. In theory the king was the owner of all of the state’s resources and had an absolute authority within the state’s territory; therefore, the king had a potentially immense undertaking in running and co-ordinating various functions of the state. Thus, the administrative group close to him, headed by   This is perhaps comparable to the scribal occupation which acquired an internal hierarchy during the Old Kingdom, see Papazian (2013, 41). 3   Not all of those Egyptians involved in the administration would have been literate, or even required to be so, in order to carry out the different roles within this administration, see Engel (2013, 38-39). According to Allen (2010a, 661), literacy may have been between 1 to 10% of the educated portion of Egyptian society. Baines and Eyre (2007, 67) suggest that only 1% of the Egyptian population was literate. See also Regulski (2008) for the increasing number of scribes during Dynasties One to Three. 2

  Note Martin-Pardey’s (1989) comments and evaluation of this work.

1

29

Caleb R. Hamilton the vizier, was tasked to help with the practicality of the numerous operations in running the state (Lippert 2008, 28; Philip-Stéphan 2008, 14, 19). To contextualise this, the hierarchical nature of the legal administration should be seen within the setting of the political framework of the period.

proposed by Moreno García (2013). The set-up of the elite evolved through the Old Kingdom as shown in figure 2, which illustrates the position of the political structure at the end of the Old Kingdom (Kanawati 1977, 70; Kanawati 1980, 131; Cruz-Uribe 1994, 49; Bárta 2013a, 165-166). The king is still central to the structure, though his position and authority has changed and is possibly diminished by the Nomarchs and the vizier through the evolution of the political structure and nature of the offices that the elite held, and also through the various reforms that took place from the middle of Dynasty V (Kanawati 1980, 128130; Bárta 2013b, 270-274). This helps to illustrate that there was still a certain hierarchical nature to the political system during the Old Kingdom, though this was less rigid than traditional views propose. Through this set-up, it is possible that the legal administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom was also hierarchical to an extent, but within an evolving and ever-adapting political structure.

It has been generally assumed that the traditional organisation of ancient Egyptian government had as its corner stone, a strong centralized administrative system with a concomitant court-centralized tradition (Cruz-Uribe 1994, 45). This traditional view of the Egyptian political system emphasises the king at the head of the monarchical system. Cruz-Uribe (1994, 45) has stated that this model advocates the king as the principal figure of power, and subsequently all his subjects were reliant on him for their positions within society and the administration. He suggests that this model does not take into account the concept of any spheres of influence or the notion that power is not a static fixture throughout Egyptian history (Cruz-Uribe 1994, 48). Furthermore, the allowance for a fluctuating model of power, coupled with the role and influence played by the noble families of Egypt, has led him to propose a different model representing the political organization of ancient Egypt. These models represent the interconnecting spheres of influence that a noble family could have during the early Old Kingdom and later Old Kingdom respectively (Cruz-Uribe 1994, 48-49). The notion of other influences within the administration, such as patronage and informal networks has recently been taken up by Moreno García (2013) and Campagno (2014).4 Moreno García (2013, 1031-1032) suggests that the interconnection between the king and the elites should be considered not only through the formal and obvious mechanisms of authority and politics, but also through the informal processes, not often considered in the traditional view of Pharaonic power. That we should not see ancient Egyptian bureaucracy and political systems as rigid and all-encompassing is emphasised across all periods of its history (Moreno García 2013, 1063; Campagno 2014, 4-5). How early patronage can be seen during Old Kingdom Egypt is difficult gauge due to the nature of the sources, though it has recently been proposed that the precedents of the patronage seen during the First Intermediate Period, arise from at least the second half of the Old Kingdom (Campagno 2014, 14).

Therefore, within each sphere of the two models above, the organization could still be hierarchical. This hierarchical nature of the legal system allowed for the lower levels of the legal administration to have accountability, and perhaps even precedent, which meant that there would be a minimum level of efficiency for those carrying out roles within the legal structure, as well as a degree of predictability for parties in dispute.5 The Egyptian administration was divided into different administrative groups, organised at times by a hierarchy of officials, though these were not always mutually exclusive from each other, with officials often holding multiple titles (see Helck 1954; Strudwick 1985; Baud 1999; Papazian 2013). According to Baud (1999, 316 Fig. 31), and later followed by Wenke (2009, 284), these divisions were the treasury, the granaries, the archives, works and expeditions, the judiciary, and perhaps a bureau for the management of provinces (Engel 2013, 19). Evidence for the establishment of the judicial branch of this administration dates to the early Old Kingdom (VerSteeg 2002a, 118; Engel 2013, 35).6 VerSteeg (2002b, 139) suggests that the establishment of the judicial branch of the early Egyptian administration resulted in the creation of the Six Great Courts. The evidence for this is most likely based on the titles held by various officials during the Old Kingdom such as jmy-r Hwt wrt and jmy-r Hwt wrt 6 (Lippert 2012, 2), though as mentioned above, the re-organisation of the administration during Dynasty V (Kanawati 1980, 128-130; Bárta 2013b, 270-274) is when these offices first became apparent in the existing evidence (Strudwick 1985, 176). This does not, however, preclude that they may have existed earlier. The use of the word ‘court’ here may be slightly misleading. This is because the word ‘Hwt’ does not simply translate to ‘court’, rather it can mean ‘temple’, ‘administrative district’, or if coupled with

Cruz-Uribe’s (1994) model can be seen in figure 1, which shows the king as the ultimate authority in the political system during the early Old Kingdom, and reflects the notion that all other aspects of the Egyptian political system are subsumed within his sphere of influence (Cruz-Uribe 1994, 49; Papazian 2013, 46; Bárta 2013a, 163). Note that this also shows the overlapping nature of the elite, through which they could create networks (both formal and informal) to influence the Old Kingdom administration as

  On the process of the legal system, see Lippert (2008, 29-31) and Jasnow (2003). Philip-Stéphan (2008) is useful in setting out evidence of the period, though caution with her conclusions is urged. 6   Philip-Stéphan (2008, 24) suggests that the D3D3t existed from a remote period of Egyptian history as a council of notable members in a community. 5

  Campagno (2014, 3-6) provides an interesting critique of Assmanns views on patronage. Specifically footnote5 gives recent references discussing this topic.

4

30

Aspects of the Judiciary in the Egyptian Old Kingdom

Figure 1. A model of the organization for the Egyptian government during the early Old Kingdom. This shows the king, as the ultimate authority, and the noble

Figure 2. A model of the organization of the Egyptian government during the late Old Kingdom. This shows the king, still with influence, but now it is diminished by the growing influence of the Vizier and Nomarchs (adapted from Cruz-Uribe 1994, 49).

families with their influence dependant on the king and their interconnecting influence with each other

(adapted from Cruz-Uribe 1994, 48).

Wilkinson 1999, 138; Bárta 2013a, 164, 167; Papazian 2013, 46). While the title ‘tAyty zAb TAty’ (Strudwick 1985, 304; Jones 2000, 1000-1001) was held by most viziers it should not automatically be construed as relating to a legal role, although many viziers held other titles such as jmy-r Hwt wrt 6 ‘overseer of the Six Great Courts’ (Strudwick 1985, 178, 188, 306; Jones 2000, 164-165 nos. 628 and 630). The vizier was responsible for the running of all state departments (Papazian 2013, 46), hence why the title could be seen to have links with the legal system. In effect the vizier could have been the pinnacle of this legal system, and could be seen as a pseudo privy council, a last resort legal body that could have binding or influential decisions regarding a dispute. Above this there is the possibility that direct appeal to the king could take place within the sHw-@r, the ‘Hall of Horus’. Philip-Stéphan (2008, 21-23) presents evidence for appealing to the king, though her examination of such evidence stems from the religious corpus of the Pyramid Texts, and one should therefore take care with this analysis, as such texts do not necessarily present the practical undertakings of the judicial system during the late Old Kingdom. It is noted, however, that these texts have the possibility of reflecting certain aspects or events from the living realm that may then have been transferred into the realm that the Pyramid Texts represent, or vice versa. Below the vizier was the next group of elite officials. It is amongst this group that judges such as the jmy-r Hwt wrt may have occupied office, along with other important magistrates such as the sr.w officials or the r NXn n zAb (Martin-Pardey 1994, 163-165; Callender 2000; Bárta 2013a, 167).

wrt, it can also mean ‘great mansions’ and can be understood as law courts (Wb III, 3-4). As figure 1 suggests, during the Third and Fourth Dynasties many of the elite or noble administrators were attached to the royal family, which Bárta (2013a, 154-155; 2013b, 270) sees as akin to a patrimonial household. This was a direct continuation of the system of government of the Early Dynastic Period (Malek 2000, 104; Papazian 2013, 46; Bárta 2013a, 166). These elites attained their authority from the traditionally close bonds they had with the king and the influence gained from this position. The highest ranked administrator was that of vizier, second to the king in the administrative hierarchy, and it was he who acted as a link between the king and the government (Wilkinson 1999, 137; Bárta 2013a, 164; Papazin 2013, 46). However, at the end of Dynasty IV, members of the royal family were obtaining these administrative positions less frequently and may have eventually been excluded from the administration of Egypt (Strudwick 1985, 312-313; Papazian 2013, 46). As a result of the changes and reforms to the Egyptian administration, the centralisation of the judiciary may have taken place during Dynasty V (PhilipStéphan 2004, 139; 2008, 19-20; Bárta 2013b, 270-274). Indeed, the title jmy-r Hwt wrt 6 or jmy-r Hwt wrt is only extant from current evidence during the reign of Niuserre during Dynasty V when the reforms and organisation of the Egyptian administration was taking place (Strudwick 1985, 176; Martin-Pardey 1989, 543). One of the many functions or roles the vizier had was as head judge (Kanawati 1980, 12; Strudwick 1985, 304;

31

Caleb R. Hamilton The Courts of the Old Kingdom

‘two Great Courts’ (Strudwick 2005, 293-294; URK I, 46-48) makes it possible that a reference to the Hwt wrt may have meant two Great courts with in the institution of the six Great Courts, and that the differentiation was for those who were in charge or associated with this judicial institution, namely the vizier and the officials, creating a hierarchy of officials through their respective titles of jmy-r Hwt wrt and jmy-r Hwt wrt 6 (Strudwick 1985, 177).7 It is a possibility that the Egyptians would mention the Great Courts, sometimes in regards to the full set of six courts, or at other times only referring to one or two of these institutions. Philip-Stéphan’s (2008) research confirms the existence of a Great Court, but it does not disprove the notion that the Hwt wrt and Hwt wrt 6 were not one and the same. It is agreed that her (2004, 148; 2008, 35-36) translation of Hwt wrt 6 as ‘great court of the six’ is unlikely (Lippert 2008, 28, n171; 2012, 2), and that the differentiation between the two terms for the great courts may be due in part of this grammatical error.

Following the notion that the judicial branch of the Egyptian administration was concerned with the application of judgments, it is necessary to set out where these judgments took place. This is important as the establishment of the Egyptian judicial system during this period seems to have had a lasting effect on the Egyptian administrative structure, with later periods building on the foundations of this epoch (for comments on later aspects of law in Egypt see, Allam 1991; Jasnow 2003; Philip-Stéphan 2008; Lippert 2008). To this end it seems that the Egyptians of the Old Kingdom may have had several types of courts. Before looking into the courts of the Old Kingdom it is important to determine what a ‘court’ is. To give a precise definition of the word ‘court’ is difficult. This is because it can be used in many different contexts, and this court is defined in relation to the functions it serves. In the context here a court is an institution that administers justice (Garner 2009, 405). A court can administer justice by settling disputes between two parties that are in conflict (Garner 2009, 405). Thus, the use of the word ‘court’ here is in a legal sense, as they can administer justice by imposing the laws that govern the state upon those who transgress against them, as seen in the royal decrees of the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties of Neferirfare and Pepi II (Strudwick 2005, 98-101, 107-1113; URK 170-172, 280-293). At times the term ‘court’ can refer not only to the judicial body that interprets and enforces the law, but also to the physical location where the court meets or sits in deliberation. In this sense the ‘court’ differs somewhat from the royal court where a king would preside and gather his officials in an audience. It differs through its legal nature, even though there may have been a specific law court that the king had tenure over. It is suggested here that the court structure of the Old Kingdom consisted of the Six Great Courts, which were located at or near the royal residence. These were supported by tribunals at a provincial level, and other special courts such as the Hall of Horus.

Callender (2000, 365-366), following Martin-Pardey (1994, 157-167), has gone as far as to suggest that the use of the term ‘court’ for these institutions may not be correct and that one could see them as the headquarters of the vizier’s bureau where other activities, aside from judicial matters, could be carried out as well.8 This is a possibility, though it is suggested here that the Hwt wrt and Hwt wrt 6 were interchangeable courts within the legal set-up during the Old Kingdom. This does not preclude the institution from performing other functions, rather it stresses that there was at least some sort of juridical nature to the institution. Indeed, by the reign of Pepi II, it seems the titles were now interchangeable (Strudwick 1985, 190). The confusion surrounding the two terms seems to stem from the evidence in their use within the titles and biographies of officials during this time period (Strudwick 1985, 176-198). As was noted several decades ago, the jmy-r Hwt wrt 6 was associated with the office of the vizier (Strudwick 1985, 178), as his capacity as chief-judge and representative of the king (Wilkinson 1999, 137), where he acted as an overseer of the judges within the Great Courts.9 The vizier was the highest administrator of this court system, hence why he was able to hold a differentiated title. This seems to make more sense, especially when one takes into account the notion put forth by Strudwick (1985, 189-190) that the amount of officials holding the title jmy-r Hwt wrt 6 is fairly similar to those holding the junior title, jmy-r Hwt wrt.10 The jmy-r Hwt wrt, was an office that was

The Great Courts (Hwt wrt) This term ‘Hwt wrt’ is generally interpreted as a law court (Wb III, 4; Helck 1954, 73-73, Strudwick 1985, 176; Philip-Stéphan 2008, 27; Lippert 2008, 28; 2012, 2; Brovarski 2013, 147-148). As already mentioned, the Six Great Courts are a regular occurrence in the existing body of evidence (Strudwick 1985, 176-181; Philip-Stéphan 2008, 27-33, 35-38; Lippert 2008, 28-29). At the outset, however, it should be noted that the existence of six Great Courts (Hwt wrt 6) or the Great Courts (Hwt wrt) and the existence of an independent judicial agency during the Old Kingdom has been doubted by some scholars (MartinPardey 1989, 540-544; 1994 157-158; Callender 2000, 364, n22, n 31; Philip-Stéphan 2008, 27). Indeed, that there is a differentiation between the two terms, which usually stems from titles associated with officials during the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties, may be arbitrary. As detailed below, the reference in the inscription of Khuiwer from Giza to

  Philip-Stéphan (2004, 140; 2008, 28), following Moreno García (1997), suggests that the Hwt wrt and Hwt wrt 6 were not interchangeable courts, and that they were two different levels within the court structure of the period. 8   Martin-Pardey (1994, 164-165), in discussing the activities for the sr.w official between administrative and judicial, even going as far to suggest that there is not a separate judicial system operating during the Old Kingdom. This is rejected by Lippert (2008, 29) based on the growing acquisition of titles that have a legal nature by the vizier during Dynasty V and VI. 9   Callender (2000, 365, n30), notes that Qar IA of South Abusir did hold both titles of jmy-r Hwt wrt and jmy-r Hwt wrt 6. 10   It is noted that Strudwick’s mathematics have been questioned previously; see Callender (2000, 366) in regards to the number of 7

32

Aspects of the Judiciary in the Egyptian Old Kingdom important for him to be associated with the legal system, linking his role as the king’s representative and dispenser of arbitration, to the populace of Egypt. Other scholars such as Lippert (2008, 28-29; 2012, 2-3) and Jasnow (2003, 105-108) have also not noted a two-tier system from the Hwt wrt and Hwt wrt 6, simply addressing them as a collective body of up to 6 courts, which is followed here.

occupied by those officials that presided within the Hwt wrt, or Great Courts, of which there may have been up to six courts making up this collective institution. Thus, there were not two levels to this court structure, as PhilipStéphan’s (2008, 20) proposes; rather simply the Hwt wrt 6 was the overall number of Great Courts, administered by the jmy-r Hwt wrt 6 (the vizier), and the Hwt wrt refers to one of these such courts that a judge acted within, and was overseen by a jmy-r Hwt wrt, who was then accountable to the vizier above him (Strudwick 1985, 190; Lippert 2008, 28). Philip-Stéphan’s assertion follows that of Helck (1954, 73), which is also remarked on by Callender (2000, 365-366). Helck’s states that the jmy-r Hwt wrt 6 was superior to the jmy-r Hwt wrt, and this is what Callender follows on with, nothing that this is the ‘only clue’ to the relative status of these courts.11 While these titles are a clue to a hierarchical notion of accountability, they do not specify that they are two separate courts, rather that they are two separate titles, associated to the Hwt wrt, with the more superior title as an overseer of all of the Hwt wrt, and the junior title an overseer of just one of these courts. Indeed, Strudwick (1985, 193) has already stated that the individual Hwt wrt is where actual judgement and deliberation took place, with the figure six added in special cases to stress overall authority, such as in the titles of the vizier. This is alluded to in the biography of Akhethotep Hemi/Nebkauhor at Saqqara, where a single Hwt wrt is mentioned in relation to punishment (Strudwick 2005, 262). An argument could be made conversely based on the reference to the Hwt wrt in the biography of Kaigemni (Strudwick 2005, 285-287; URK 194-196). The text states that Kaigemni carried out everything correctly in the Hwt wrt 6, which his majesty ordered, here the king Teti. This could be construed as a court separate to the Hwt wrt, however, given that Kaigemni was a vizier when making this statement then the use of the six Great Courts is employed here to emphasise his authority over the individual Hwt wrt. A parallel can be seen in the biography of Weni (Strudwick 2005, 352-357; URK 98-110).

Therefore, the Hwt wrt or Great Courts, were one of the major institutions of justice in the Old Kingdom. The courts were used for serious disputes, with increasing evidence from the late Old Kingdom of it as a place of restitution for royal and non-royal quarrels. The Great Courts also had more functions than dispute resolution. For example, a decree found at Abydos that dates from the reign of Neferirkare (Strudwick 2005, 98-101; URK I, 170-172; Boston MFA 03.1896) mentions that the Great Courts may have been used as a registry, possibly for such decrees.12 Amongst other details from the decree of Neferirkare, it lays out that anyone who takes away a priest from the nome shall be sent to the Great Court and be made to work in a quarry (Jasnow 2003, 94-95; Brovarski 2013, 147-148). This is an indication that the Great Courts had the authority to carry out sanctions and enforce laws or regulations on behalf of the king according to the decrees he issued. The Six Great Courts were administered by the vizier, who supervised the courts through his capacity as the highest official in the Egyptian administration (Lippert 2008, 28; 2012, 2). There may have been up to six Hwt wrt, which is why he was designated the title jmy-r Hwt wrt 6. All holders of this title were viziers (Strudwick 1985, 178). The term, Hwt wrt, can refer to a physical place of consideration such as in the biography of Weni (URK I, 98-110; Lichtheim 1973, 18-23; Simpson 2003, 402-407; Strudwick 2005, 352-357), or can refer to the collection of administrative officials that made up the court, indicated through the titles that were accorded to these officials that functioned within the judicial system. Such titles, including the jmy-r Hwt wrt, jmy-r Hwt wrt 6, wr 10 Hwt wrt , wr 5 (m) pr-DHwtj , Hry-sStA n wDa-mdw n Hwt wrt, sr.w and the often cited sAb represent persons of legal activity, such as the vizier (Strudwick 1985, 176; Martin-Pardey 1994, 163-165; Callender 2000, 364; Jones 2000 I-II, 388, no. 1436, 399 no. 1471, 614 no. 2254, 802 no. 2932; Bárta 2013a, 164-166). It is not clear whether the six Great Courts were one building made up of six court rooms, each having a different specific function, or if the term refers to six individual courts either in one location, like the royal residence, or spread throughout Egypt. Philip-Stéphan (2004, 140) suggests that the Hwt wrt 6, was used as a special tribunal, which may mean this court was in one central location. Given that the translation of the term ‘Hwt wrt 6’ is not the ‘Great Court of 6,’ then it is more probable that the Hwt wrt 6 was one court system.

Those officials who held the title of jmy-r Hwt wrt often had associated legal titles, indicating that these officials may be linked to the judgments passed in the courts, with those officials holding the title jmy-r Hwt wrt 6, usually lacking other legal designations (Strudwick 1985, 190). Of course within this system, appeal to the vizier may have been possible (Strudwick 1985, 329), which is why it was officials holding the title r NXn n zAb. 11   Callender’s work focused on the scope of title ‘r NXn n zAb’, which she sees as an office that is closely tied with the royal inner circle and may have been had a special duty to represent the king’s interests, or act as a royal representative, in regard to judicial decisions (2000, 366). This is partially based on the biography of Weni from Abydos, with this particular text linking the office of the r NXn n zAb to the Hwt wrt 6. This is in contrast to the title of Sekhemkai from Saqqara, who has the title r NXn n zAbn Hwt wrt. As Callender (2000, 365, n30) notes, this is evidence that the office of the r NXn n zAb could possibly work within the Great Court or Six Great Courts; though Strudwick (1985, 180) noted previouslu that the title is linked more to the office of the vizier, rather than any particular court structure. This does not seem indicative that the Hwt wrt and Hwt wrt 6 are two separate courts, rather one is associated with the vizier, as Weni may have been referring to in his biography.

  For a recent discussion of legal writing and royal decrees in the Old Kingdom see Eyre (2013, 79-103). 12

33

Caleb R. Hamilton The evidence examined so far has been less than helpful in indicating where the Hwt wrt was located. There is ample mention of these courts through the titles bestowed on Egyptian officials who were connected to them (Strudwick 1985, 178-190, Table 7-10). Therefore, it may be possible to hypothesise that the Great Courts were located in the Memphite region, most likely near the royal residence (Lippert 2008, 28; 2012, 2). This may be more apparent when one considers the fact that only one holder of the title, jmy-r Hwt wrt 6, was buried outside of the Memphite region, and with this exception the title is written in a different convention (Strudwick 1985, 176). This raises the possibility that the Great Courts were located near the residence at Memphis, although the burial of these officials could also be explained by other reasons, such as their desire to be buried close to the royal residence and king who bestowed authority on them. That other prominent officials were also buried away from the Memphite nome during the late Old Kingdom needs to also be considered, though very few make mention of the Great Courts in their biographies.

The Dynasty VI official, Weni, mentions the courts in his biography from Abydos (Jasnow 2003, 105). Weni states that he “heard cases alone, with the chief judge and vizier, concerning all kinds of private matters. In the name of the king, for the royal harem and for the Six Great Courts...” (Strudwick 2005, 353; URK I, 99). Through this mentioning of the Six Great Courts we are given an indication that the judicial system was used by royalty as well those below the elite. It is not clear at the time of this trial if Weni was a holder of the title jmy-r Hwt wrt or jmy-r Hwt wrt 6, though it is enough to say that he was an official with a connection to the legal system of the late Old Kingdom. Weni did eventually become a Chief Judge and Vizier during of his career, showing that he was connected to the legal system (Callender 2000, 366-367; Richards 2002, 90). The Provincial Tribunal (DADAt) Aside from the Hwt wrt, there is evidence for other courtlike institutions during the Old Kingdom. The DADAt and the qnbt were administrative bodies that existed into the Middle Kingdom, though the former traces its existence from the Old Kingdom or even the Early Dynastic Period, and may be older than the Hwt wrt (Hayes 1955, 140; Philip-Stéphan 2008, 20). Both the DADAt and qnbt have similar meanings, with the DADAt translating to ‘magistrates’ or ‘assessors’, denoting a body of people connected to dispute resolution (Wb V, 528-529). The translation for the qnbt is slightly different, equating to ‘court of magistrates’, though qnbty, translates to ‘magistrate’ (Wb V, 53-54). Thus, the term qnbt refers to the court as a physical place of the qnbty, the courts’ magistrates or officials. It is possible that the qnbt developed through First Intermediate Period and into the Middle Kingdom, as there is a lack of evidence for this administrative body during the Old Kingdom (Lippert 2008, 29). By the Middle Kingdom both administrative bodies existed side by side, with both the DADAt and the qnbt having administrative and juridical functions (Hayes 1955, 140; Lippert 2012, 2-3; Pantalacci 2013, 202). As such, Eyre (2013, 114) sees the qnbt as a local council with social authority. The connection between the two seems to have come when the qnbt superseded the DADAt and Hwt wrt after the late Middle Kingdom, taking over their functions, judicial or otherwise (Hayes 1955, 140). It became a common term during the New Kingdom to denote a court, regardless of the court’s particular position in the legal hierarchy of New Kingdom courts (Bedell 1973, 3; Allam 1991, 110-11; Lippert 2012 4-5).

Textual evidence from an inscription at the entrance chapel of the tomb of Khuiwer at Giza dating to Dynasty V states that Khuiwer was a “judge and inspector of scribes of the two Great Courts which are in the western part of the Residence...” (Strudwick 2005, 293-294; URK I, 47). This suggests that two of the Great Courts are located in the western part of the Residence. The hieroglyphic signs used for the ‘two Great Courts’ in this inscription are duplicated. This is an indication of the use of a dual noun. Allen (2010b, 40) notes that the dual noun could be indicated through writing the determinative twice, doubling it. The dual differs from the plural, thus the inscription is not referring to the Great Courts as a plural; rather it is referring to the two Great Courts. The reference to the residence in this inscription should be identified as the royal residence. Another text, from the tomb of Akhet-hotep at Saqqara, employs a title mentioning the Great Court of the house of the king, which again seems to link the court to the royal residence (Strudwick 1985, 57, 190). Using these inscriptions it is suffice to suggest that at least two of the Great Courts were located at the Residence, and were perhaps split and located in different parts of it, for example, to its west. Whether other Great Courts were located at the Residence, possibly as part of the Hwt wrt 6, is likely if this institution was centrally located, though one cannot be certain without definitive archaeological or textual evidence. Interestingly though, a reference to a possible Hwt wrt may come from Abydos, where an ink inscription dating to Dynasty II mentions this institution and parallels another from Saqqara that may date to Dynasty II or III (Regulski 2004, 951, Fig. 4.1, Fig. 4.2). The inscription could have originated from another part of Egypt (Regulski 2004, 965), though this very mention of the Great Courts leaves open the possibility of their location. It is also noted that the term Hwt wrt may appear in an inscription of the Dynasty III vizier, Men-Ka (Strudwick 1985, 191, n1).

The DADAt is a body or council of notable members of the community.13 This council was a means of managing the king’s affairs at a provincial level through this representative body. It may have been primarily administrative, though it certainly had a judicial capacity (Philip-Stéphan 2008, 24; Pantalacci 2013, 202). Hayes   Philip-Stéphans (2008, 24-25) discussion of the circular nature of this body of magistrates has been correctly dismissed by Lippert (2011-2012, 247). 13

34

Aspects of the Judiciary in the Egyptian Old Kingdom (2000) alludes to the notion that this title was used because of the administrative nature of the DADAt.

(1955, 140) suggests that from the Old Kingdom the DADAt was commonly delegated the tasks and functions of a court of law. Indeed, the DADAt may have supported the governor of each nome (Hry-tp aA) in assisting the management of administrative and juridical aspects within the territory, being delegated tasks by the governor (Regulski 2004, 140). Jasnow (2003, 105) agrees with this, stating that the “DADAt is a particularly common term for a court in the Old Kingdom and thereafter. Such courts seem to have had significant administrative or advisory functions, in addition to judicial duties.” Suggestive evidence for the legal connection between the DADAt and the Hwt wrt can be seen from the inscription of Khuiwer (Strudwick 2005, 293-294; URK I, 46-48). Amongst Khuiwer’s titles that link him to the legal system are the title ‘controller of the scribes of petitioners in the DADAt’ (Strudwick 2005, 293; URK I, 47). This seems to link Khuiwer’s role as a judge for the Great Courts and his control of the scribes on the DADAt. Khuiwer may have had the responsibility of delegating legal tasks to this tribunal or perhaps received petitions from it through the legal hierarchy of the court system. It has also been suggested that the DADAt may have had an advisory role in its judicial capacity, and this could have been to a judge of the Great Courts, or to a Nomarch (Philip-Stéphan 2008, 24).

The Hall of Horus (sxw-@r/wsx.t-@r) Another court that may have existed is the sxw-@r/ wsx.t-@r (Hall of Horus). Evidence for this court comes in the form of exemptions with royal decrees from the Old Kingdom. This institution seems to parallel the six Great Courts (Jasnow 2003, 106). The Hall of Horus is mentioned in royal decrees (Koptos B, C, and D) from the late Old Kingdom dating to the reign of Pepi II found at Koptos (Strudwick 2005, 107-113; Philip-Stéphan 2008, 33, doc. 49-51; Goedicke 1967, 128-36; URK I, 280-283, 284-288, 288-293). Generally, these decrees states that if any official, emissary or scribe does not act in accordance with this decree and its exemptions, then he shall be taken into the Hall of Horus (Strudwick 2005, 109, 111, 113). Lorton (1977, 9; Philip-Stéphan 2008, 34; see Smither 1942, 19, n5) notes that the Hall of Horus could have a juridical function that is parallel to the Hwt wrt, which is mentioned in the edict of Neferirkare, from Dynasty V (Strudwick 2005, 98-101; URK I, 170-172). Strudwick (2005, 109, 127 n 16; Moreno García 1997, 129-132), however, suggests that this may be an audience hall where the decrees were issued.

The delegation of legal functions to this court happened so frequently that by Dynasty XII the DADAt as a collective body was essentially a law court (Hayes 1955, 140). Indeed, it seems that by this time the DADAt were making substantial findings, enough so that the vizier would review the body’s decisions, confirming or amending them, as seen in Brooklyn Papyrus 35.1446 (Hayes 1955, 141). Thus, during Dynasty XII the functions of district and departmental law-courts were still being performed, as in the Old Kingdom, by the DADAt-councils (Hayes 1955, 142). It may have been after this time that the qnbt superseded it. The endorsement of decisions by the DADAt is seen in the Old Kingdom and may have been the cause of precedent, both legal and habitual, that extended into later periods of pharaonic history. During this period a transaction concerning the transfer of property was to be concluded before a DADAt-court of Akhet-Khufu (Eyre 2013, 271; Jasnow 2003, 106), which was the local court near Khufu’s pyramid. Whether this transfer was before a vizier, as in the Brooklyn papyrus, or whether it was by the DADAt as a legal body, asserting its judicial functions, is unclear, though the latter would have had to have been done at some stage to legally confirm the transfer of property from the old owner to the new.

Other evidence comes from the Dynasty VI papyrus Berlin 8869, which describes an assortment of crimes apparently committed by a certain Sabni (Smither 1942; Wente, 1990, 58; Strudwick 2005, 178-179; Philip-Stéphan 2008, 34-35). This letter makes reference to a dispute in the Hall of Horus (Wente 1990, 58; Jasnow 2003, 106). The difference, however, is that in this papyrus the term wsx.t@r is employed. In the letter, the Overseer of the Army, Merrenakhte, seeks to have Sabni brought before the Hall of Horus in order to bring him to account for his crimes (Smither 1942, 16). Philip-Stéphan (2008, 34) suggests that based on this papyrus, the location of the Hall of Horus was at the Residence and could otherwise be known as a wsx.t, a description for a generic physical court (Wb I, 366; Lippert 2008, 28; 2012, 2). Philip-Stéphan (2008, 3435) suggests that the latter term could indicate a separate court, though more examination of the evidence is required before this is a certainty. Goedicke (1967, 109) provides several examples that show the legal character for the Hall of Horus. The oldest example given, dating to Khafre’s reign shows a royal connection (Goedicke 1967, 110). If the Hall of Horus is indeed parallel to a legal court, then perhaps it was used has a direct tribunal before the highest authority, the king. Following Goedicke, Lorton (1977, 10) links the formulation of the Hall of Horus with the personal presence of the king. Perhaps the Hall of Horus may have originated as a perambulating court that travelled around the realm, possibly scrutinizing the decisions of the DADAt. Goedicke (1967, 222; 1991, 137) notes that during late Dynasty VI there was a perambulating jurisdiction, which perhaps alludes to the Early Dynastic event of the ‘Following

While it has been established that the DADAt certainly had public legal functions for the judicial branch of the Old Kingdom administration, it may also have had private functions. Iconographical evidence from the Old Kingdom, set within private tombs, show groups of men working and maintaining a lord’s estate. These groups of men have been labelled collectively as DADAt or sometimes more specifically as DADAt nt pr-Dt (Allam 2000, 88). Allam

35

Caleb R. Hamilton Conclusion

of Horus,’ mentioned in the Royal Annals (Wilkinson 1999, 220-221; 2000, 90-91; Engel 2013, 27). However, this may have been an exception that the king carried out from time to time, and the Hall of Horus may have been a permanent place located near the royal residence. Goedicke (1991, 137) suggests that because of the scarcity of references for the perambulating justice, it would have been the exception rather than the rule. He assumes that the jurisdiction in this form was limited to a specific place. This makes sense as it is possible to imagine the Hall of Horus, situated at the residence, as a place that appellants could have direct access to the king’s justice, paralleling the six Great Courts.

From the evidence discussed, we can see that the ancient Egyptians had more than one type of court. These include six Great Courts to the body of magistrates known as the DADAt. The exact providence of the courts is unknown, but it is likely that a series of legal and administrative courts would have been situated at or near the royal residence. Practically this would most likely be the six Great Courts, as the highest legal tribunal of the land. This would allow ease of access for the vizier and the king to be present at a hearing, if they were needed. There may have existed legal courts within the provinces, though it would make sense for this to be the DADAt. It is possible that the DADAt may have acted as a tribunal that the lower classes could petition, which also helped to support the governor of a particular province (Philip-Stéphan 2008, 24). It seems that the Great Courts were the central legal institution, higher in the legal hierarchy than the DADAt. The Hwt wrt may have existed during Dynasty III, though it commonly referred to in titles until Dynasty V during the reign of Niuserre, when reforms of the political administration, and most likely by extension, the legal administration, were taking place. A legal issue from the DADAt could be referred or appealed to the Great Courts, before a more professional level of the administration, or perhaps even before the vizier.

Other Courts Interestingly there is mention of a court in the Pyramid Texts. Pyramid Text 477 (Mathieu 1998, 71-72; Allen 2013, 148-149) mentions the ‘Mansion of the Prince...’ which may mean the official’s court or residence in reference to the place where the Ogdoad accuses Seth of throwing Osiris to the earth. The referral to this mansion (Hwt), or administrative district/court (Wb III, 3-4), may refer to a tribunal of the gods, much like a divine court. This tribunal may be similar to the DADAt, or perhaps have stronger jurisdiction like the Hwt wrt. When an examination is made of the hieroglyphic signs used for the term, ‘Mansion of the Prince’ (Hwt sr), the notion of a ‘prince’ should also be examined. That the choice of word sr is used could be significant (Jones 2000, 909 nos. 3331-3335). This can be translated as a nobleman or magistrate, the plural being sr.w or a body of magistrates (Wb IV, 188-189). Indeed it has been shown that the sr.wofficials played a significant role in the juridical matters of the state administration (Martin-Pardey 1994, 164-165; Callender 2000, 367; Philip-Stéphan 2004, 141; 2008, 12; Bárta 2013a, 167). If we take the notion that the Pyramid Text refers to a ‘mansion’ as a court and a ‘prince’ as a magistrate or official, then it becomes clear that Pyramid Text 477 refers to a judicial body of the gods, before which Osiris was raised, and by which Seth is threatened (Mathieu 1998, 72).

Specialised courts may also have existed, such as the sHw@r. This may have allowed access for appeal to the king, either with particularly high officials who may not have been appropriate to send to the Hwt wrt, such as Sabni of Aswan, or perhaps with difficult and morally challenging circumstances of a particular case. Therefore, it is possible that leave of appeal may have been made through a petition to the king through the Hall of Horus, or perhaps even petition straight to him if the matter was of a serious nature, say regarding grievous criminal acts like homicide, bypassing the other levels of the legal structure. Thus, it is possible to hypothesise that the Egyptians had a certain structure to their court system. These courts certainly seem to have had judicial functions, though they also formed part of the administrative system in the Old Kingdom, acting as archives for royal decrees. The legal institutions should not be seen as solely juridical, but multifaceted in the fluid and evolving Egyptian administration of the period. This is made more apparent when one notes the other titles that officials linked to the legal system also employed (Strudwick 1985, 178-198). These were at times scribal in nature, though could also be religious. The courts are also only one part of the judicial apparatus that operated during the Old Kingdom. Other aspects are the judges, wardens (such as the r NXn n zAb) and other officers (such as the sr.w-officials) all of whom make up other aspects of the legal structure and administration, though these have not been fully examined here.

Philip-Stéphan (2008, 34) notes that the wsx.t (n.t) Gb, as found in the Pyramid Texts, may also have been a divine court, that was then modelled into a judicial institute during Dynasty V, making it akin to the wsx.t@r as described above. This, as well as the ‘mansion of the prince’, means that there may be a judicial nature to aspects of the behaviour described in the Pyramid Texts, even if only briefly. What this indicates is that there is evidence other than official titles that signify the existence of courts. While it is worth noting that this evidence is religious in nature, it is not impossible to think that the tribunal in the Pyramid Texts could have stemmed from a physical example, or perhaps vice-versa, that the physical courts materialized from religious tradition.

36

Aspects of the Judiciary in the Egyptian Old Kingdom Bibliography

Erman, A and Grapow H. (1926-1931). Wörterbuch der ägyptischen Sparche. Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs. Eyre. C. J. 2013. The Use of Documents in Pharaonic Egypt. Oxford studies in ancient documents. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Garner, B. A. (ed) 2009. Black’s Law Dictionary. St Paul: West. Goedicke, H. 1967 Königliche Dokumente Aus Dem Alten Reich. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz. Goedicke, H. 1991. ‘Jurisdiction in the Pyramid Age.’ Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts, Abteilung Kairo 47, 135-141. Hayes, W. 1955. A Papyrus of the Late Middle Kingdom in the Brooklyn Museum (Papyrus Brooklyn 35, 1446). New York: The Brooklyn Museum. Helck, W. 1954. Untersuchungen zu den Beamtentiteln des ägyptischen Alten Recihes. Äyptologishce Forschungen 18. Glückstein: Augustin. Jasnow, R. 2003. ‘Old Kingdom and First Intermediate Period.’ In, A History of Ancient Near Eastern Law, edited by Westbrook, R . Leiden: Brill, 93-140. Jones, D. 2000. An Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, Epithets and Phrases of the Old Kingdom� Volume I-II, Oxford: BAR Publishing, BAR International Series Kanawati, N. 1977. The Egyptian Administration in the Old Kingdom: Evidence on its Economic Decline. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Kanawati, N. 1980. Governmental reforms in Old Kingdom Egypt. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Lichtheim, M. 1973. Ancient Egyptian Literature: Volume 1 – The Old and Middle Kingdom. Berkley: University of California Press, 1975. Lippert, S. L. 2008. Einführung in die altägyptische Rechtsgeschichte. Einführungen und Quellentexte zur Ägyptologie 5. Berlin: Münster: LIT-Verlag. Lippert, S. L. 2011-2012. ‘Review: Philip-Stéphan, Alexandra 2008. Dire le droit en Égypte pharaonique: contribution à l’étude des structures et mécanismes juridictionnels jusqu'au Nouvel Empire. Connaissance de l’Égypte ancienne 9. Bruxelles: Safran. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 38, 246-250. Lippert, S. L. 2012. ‘Law Courts’. In, UCLA Encyclopedia of Egyptology, edited by Frood, E. and Wendrich W. Los Angeles. Lorton, D. 1977. ‘The Treatment of Criminals in Ancient Egypt: Through the New Kingdom.’ Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 20, 2-64 Malek, J. 2000. ‘The Old Kingdom’. In, The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, edited by Shaw, I. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 89-117. Martin-Pardey, E. 1984. ‘Gedanken zum Titel .‘ Studien zur Altägyptischen Kultur 11, 231-251. Martin-Pardey, E. 1989. ‘Die Verwaltung im Alten Reich, Grenzen und Möglichkeiten von Untersuchungen zu diesem Thema.‘ Bibliotheca Orientalis 46, 533-552. Martin-Pardey, E. 1994. ‘Richten im Alten Reich und die sr-Beamten‘. In, Essays in Egyptologoy in honor of

Allam, S. 1991. ‘Egyptian Law Courts in Pharaonic and Hellenistic Times’. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 77, 109-127. Allam, S. 2000. ‘Social and Legal Aspects Regarding the Trade from the Oasis.’ In, Reading the Eloquent Peasant: Proceedings of the International Conference on the Tale of the Eloquent Peasant at the University of California, Los Angeles, March 27-30, 1997, edited by Gnirs, A. LingAeg, vol. 8: Göttingen. Allen, J. P. 2010a. ‘Language, scripts, and literacy’. In, A Companion to Ancient Egypt vol. II, 641-662, edited by Lloyd, A. B. Chichester; Malden, MA: WileyBlackwell. Allen, J. P. 2010b. Middle Egyptian: An Introduction to the Language and Culture of Hieroglyphs, 2nd Ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Allen, J. P. 2013. A New Concordance of the Pyramid Texts: Volume I Introduction, Occurrences, Transcription. Providence: Brown University. Baines, J. and Eyre, C. J. 2007. ‘Four notes on literacy’. In, Visual and written culture in ancient Egypt, edited by Baines, J. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 63-94. Bárta, M. 2013a. ‘Kings, Viziers, and Courtiers: Executive Power in the Third Millennium B.C.’ In, Ancient Egyptian Administration, edited by Moreno García, J. C. Handbook of Oriental Studies, section 1: Ancient Near East 104. Leiden: Brill, 153-175. Bárta, M. 2013b. ‘Egyptian Kingship during the Old Kingdom.’ In, Experiencing Power, Generating Authority: Cosmos, Politics, and the Ideology of Kingship in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, edited by Hill, J. A., Jones P., and Morales, A. J. Baltimore: University of Pennsylvania Press, 257-283. Baud, M. 1999.  Famille royale et pouvoir sous l’Ancien Empire. Bibliothèque d’étude 126. Le Caire: Institut français d’archéologie orientale. Bedell, E. 1973. Criminal Law in the Egyptian Ramesside Period. Brandeis University, Ph. D Dissertation. Brovarski, E. 2013. ‘@wt, @wt-wrt, and @wt-anh’. Etudes et Travaux XXVI, 144-151. Callender, V. G. 2000. ‘A propos the title of r Nxn n zAb’. In, Abusir and Saqqara in the year 2000, edited by Bárta, Miroslav and Jaromír Krejč. Praha: Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic, Oriental Institute, 361-380. Campagno, M. 2014. ‘Patronage and Other Logics of Social Organisation in Ancient Egypt during the IIIrd Millennium BCE.’ Journal of Egyptian History 7, 1-33. Cruz-Uribe, E. 1994. ‘A Model for the Political Structure of Ancient Egypt.’ In, Silverman, D. For His Ka: Essays Offered in Memory of Klaus Baer. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 45-53. Engel, E. M. 2013. ‘The Organisation of the Nascent State: Egypt until the beginning of the Fourth Dynasty.’ In, Ancient Egyptian Administration, edited by Moreno García, J. C. Handbook of Oriental Studies, section 1: Ancient Near East 104. Leiden: Brill, 19-40.

37

Caleb R. Hamilton Hans Goedicke, edited by Byran, B. M. and Lorton, D. San Antonio, Van Scilen Books, 157-167. Mathieu, B. 1998. ‘Un épisode du procès de Seth au tribunal d’Hélopolis’. Göttinger Miszellen 164, 71-78. Moreno García, J. C. 1997. Etudes sur l’administration, le pouvoir et l’idéologie en Egypte, de l’Ancien au Moyen Empire. Aegyptiaca Leodiensia 4. Liège: Centre informatique de philosophie et lettres. Moreno García, J. C. 2013. ‘The ‘Other’ administration : Patronage, Factions, and Informal Networks of Power in Ancient Egypt’. In, Ancient Egyptian Administration, edited by Moreno García, J. C. Handbook of Oriental Studies, section 1: Ancient Near East 104. Leiden: Brill, 1029-1065. Pantalacci, L. 2013. ‘Balat, A Frontier Town and its Archive’. In, Ancient Egyptian Administration, edited by Moreno García, J. C. Handbook of Oriental Studies, section 1: Ancient Near East 104. Leiden: Brill, 197214. Papazian, H. 2013. ‘The Central Administration of the Resources in the Old Kingdom: Deparmtnets, Treasuries, Granaries and Work Centres’. In, Ancient Egyptian Administration, edited by Moreno García, J. C. Handbook of Oriental Studies, section 1: Ancient Near East 104. Leiden: Brill, 41-83. Philip-Stéphan, A. 2004. ‘Juger sous l’Ancien Empire égyptien.’ La fonction de juger: Egypte ancienne et Mésopotamie, Paris: L’Harmattan, 139-152. Philip-Stéphan, A. 2008. Dire le droit en Égypte pharaonique. Contribution à l’étude des structures et mécanismes juridictionnels jusqu’au Nouvel Empire. Brussels: Safran. Regulski, I. 2004. ‘Second Dynasty Ink Inscriptions from Saqqara Paralleled in the Abydos Material from the Royal Museum of Art and History (RMAH) in Brussels’. In, Egypt at its Origins. Studies in Memory of Barbara Adams, edited by S. Hendrickx, R. Friedman,

K. Ciałowicz, and M. Chłodnicki. Leuven: Peeters, 949-70. Regulski, I. 2008. ‘Scribes in Early Dynastic Egypt.’ In, Zeichen aus dem Sand: Streiflichter aus Ägyptens Geschichte zu Ehren von Günter Dreyer, edited by Engel, Eva-Maria, Vera Müller, and Ulrich Hartung. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 581-611. Richards, J. 2002. ‘Text and context in late Old Kingdom Egypt: the archaeology and historiography of Weni the Elder’. Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 39: 75-102. Sethe, K. 1933. Urkunden des Alten Reichs. Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs. Simpson, W. K. (ed) 2003. The literature of ancient Egypt: an anthology of stories, instructions, stelae, autobiographies, and poetry, Third ed. New Haven; London: Yale University Press. Smither, P. 1942. ‘An Old Kingdom Letter Concerning the Crimes of Count Sabni.’ Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 28, 16-19. Strudwick, N. 1985. The Administration of Egypt in the Old Kingdom. London: Kegan Paul International. Strudwick, N. 2005. Texts from the Pyramid Age. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. VerSteeg, R. 2002a. Law in the Ancient World. Durham: Carolina Academic Press. VerSteeg, R. 2002b. Law in Ancient Egypt. Durham: Carolina Academic Press. Wenke, R. 2009. The Ancient Egyptian State: The Origins of Egyptian Culture (c.8000-2000 BC). New York: Cambridge University Press. Wente, E. F. 1990. Letters from Ancient Egypt. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Wilkinson, T. A. H. 1999. Early Dynastic Egypt. London: Routledge. Wilkinson, T. A. H. 2000. Royal Annals of Ancient Egypt: The Palermo Stone and its Associated Fragments. Studies in Egyptology. London: KPI.

38

Receiving Sappho’s Erotic Moon – A Very Literary Affair Tom Sharkie Abstract Sappho was the originator of a peculiar theme which invests the moon with erotic characteristics. Such a theme is prevalent in Classical literature and is even notable in Romantic poetry, and some early Modern Greek poetry. This work will analyse Sappho’s use of the moon as an erotic theme, before tracing it to the Hellenistic poets of the Greek Anthology. Next, the impact of Sappho on Roman poets will be examined. Finally, I shall explore the transmission of this theme through history to the earlier Modern Greek poetry of Yannis Ritsos.

Introduction

similarly explores two Hellenistic poems that use a variation on a Sapphic theme in their composition. Méndez Dosuna looks for discussions of fawns in select texts, and links these to Sappho via the use of a simile.

Recent scholarly interest has been once more piqued by the scanty fragments of the lyric poetess, Sappho. The draw is surely Sappho’s iridescent use of language, erudite weaving of mythic plots, and clear commitment to an erotic poetic manifesto. Sappho is not only attractive to a modern scholarly audience, but also to the ancient writers of poetry. The compositional variance of her style is the major attractant for ancient writers borrowing from Sappho (Acosta-Hughes 2010, 13). The other element that draws ancient writers to Sappho is her eroticism – mundane topics and heroic figures are imbued with erotic character; making Sappho a principle source of key erotic moments in archaic Greek literature. One of these erotic moments is immortalised into a theme that Sappho draws on throughout her extant poetry. This theme is that of the moon as a sexually invested figure who is in some way involved in the erotic play of the lover and beloved. It is this theme, and its transmission through ancient and modern poetry that will form the basis of this discussion.

While not focussed on reception per se, Harold Zellner (2008) looks to a linguistic device in Sappho, and discusses its erotic impact with respect to the fragment overall. While the review presented above is not extensive, it predominantly covers Sapphic scholarship of the last fifteen years. In so doing, it should make clear the preoccupation of scholars with the interconnection of Sappho and later writers; that is, her ‘reception’. This paper will contribute further to the reception of Sappho through antiquity, and into the modern period, paying specific attention to the theme of an ‘erotic moon’. After discussing the placement of the theme of an Erotic Moon in the fragments of Sappho, this paper shall examine the following periods of literature in sequence: the Hellenistic and Roman writers, the Romantics, and the Greek Modern, to analyse the descent of Sappho’s this theme through literary history.

Much of the current scholarship is concerned with Sappho’s interconnection with later writers, and her visual reception as a literary and historical figure. Dimitrios Yatromanolakis (2001) discusses the precise image of Sappho appearing on potsherds and vases, and further analyses the lack of scholarly attention given to the image of Sappho. The earlier scholar Curtin Bennett (1994) also discusses the constructed image of Sappho as a ‘schoolmistress’, a private poet who was anything but a lover. Ellen Greene (1999), in her volume, alludes to the familiarity of every member of the western world with Sappho, to varying degrees, certifying Sappho as an integral authorial member of our society, pervading all forms of erotic literature through her erotic themes.

I shall begin with Sappho, and discuss her use of this theme in two of the extant fragments. I shall then move to the Hellenistic writers, namely Philodemus and Marcus Argentarius, before discussing the use of Sapphic images by Propertius. Finally I shall discuss the poetry of Yannis Ritsos, a Greek native writer of the twentieth century. At each stage of discussion, attention will lie squarely with the use of the moon as an erotic image in the poetry at hand. Sappho Readers of Sappho experience the moon three times, twice in an erotic context, and once in a ritualistic context. The poem detailing the lunar ritual will not be dealt with here, as there is too little of the text remaining for a significant analysis to be conducted. Fragments four and forty-eight will form the basis of this section of the work, followed by

Angela Gosetti-Murrayjohn (2006) is, too, concerned with the reception of Sappho, however, her focus is squarely on the thematic reception of the poet by Hellenistic writers. The scholar evaluates two epigrams from the Greek Anthology, and looks for particularly Sapphic elements in these – in this case, the desire for Sappho herself, and a frustrated kiss. Julián Víctor Méndez Dosuna (2008)

39

Tom Sharkie a brief discussion of the non-extant, but attested poem that dealt with Selene and Endymion.

Hughes (2010, 13). Sappho is held in high esteem by Hellenistic epigrammatists, often called the tenth muse (Gosetti-Murrayjohn 2006, 26).1 Two authors in the Greek Anthology elaborate the theme of the eroticised moon in their epigrams; GA.V.16 – Marcus Argentarius and GA.V.123 – Philodemus both deal with this theme directly. Philodemus was a student of Zeno, who in turn was a student of Apollodorus. Therefore, it is reasonable to conclude that Philodemus would have had access to the Sapphic corpus. Little is known about Marcus Argentarius; however, his style indicates that he could not have lived before the earlier years of the Roman Empire. Given that not much is known about the life and times of Marcus Argentarius, it would be unreasonable to argue that he had definite access to the corpus of Sappho. Therein, this analysis will be looking to certain linguistic and stylistic clues that reveal Sapphic influence.

Sappho’s fragment four describes the moon as a splendid being, given the power to eclipse the stars in the sky. ἄστερες μὲν ἀμφὶ κάλαν σελάνναν ἂψ’ ἀπυκρύπτοισι φάεννον εἶδος ὄπποτα πλήθοισα μάλιστα λάμπη ἀργυρία γᾶν “The stars about the beautiful moon hide away their shining form, when indeed she [the moon] shines full silver on the earth” (Sappho fragment four, Voigt) It is possible that Sappho here is referring to the beauty of the beloved outshining all other individuals. But it is rather more possible that this lyric is celebrating the commencement of another evening, a time spent in pursuit of the beloved.

The literary principles that govern developing ancient literature are of particular interest when engaging in comparative literary analysis; principally, emulation and adaptation. In order to determine whether the Hellenistic writers had Sappho in mind when composing their epigrams that use the moon as an erotic figure, each text will be presented accompanied by a commentary on specific features that may link it to the canonical source.

There is an interesting interplay between fragment fortyeight and that described above. Where the first text describes the excitement and anticipation at the beginning of the night/erotic encounter, fragment forty-eight presents a rather sorrowful end to the evening. Δέδυκε μὲν ἀ σελάννα καὶ Πληίαδες· μέσσαι δὲ νύκτες, πάρα δʹ ἔρχετʹ ὤρα· ἔγω δὲ μόνα κατεύδω

The epigram of Marcus Argentarius appears sixteenth in the Greek Anthology. It deals with the moon in an erotic manner, calling it to be ally to the lover, and to lend a gentle ear to hear the suffering the speaker has experienced.

“The moon and the Pleiades have sunk, it is the middle of the night and the hours wear on, but I sleep alone” (Sappho fragment forty-eight, Voigt)

Mήνη χρυσόκερως, δέρκευ τάδε, καὶ περιλαμπεῖς ἀστέρες, οὓς κόλποις Ὠκεανὸς δέχεται, ὥς με μόνον προλιποῦσα μυρόπνοος ᾤχετ᾽ Ἀρίστη: ἑκταίην δ᾽ εὑρεῖν τὴν μάγον οὐ δύναμαι. ἀλλ᾽ ἔμπης αὐτὴν ζωγρήσομεν, ἢν ἐπιπέμψω Κύπριδος ἰχνευτὰς ἀργυρέους σκύλακας.

Here, the moon is tied to both an absent lover and with sexualised dark covering of night. The speaker says that they are to ‘sleep alone’; an image that calls to mind later Hellenistic epigrams detailing relationships with lovers that frequently end with the poet as exclusus amator. In the Hellenistic fantasy of endless nights spent with the beloved, and the inevitable experience of becoming the disavowed lover, these fragments may have been seen as sources from which to borrow and to emulate.

Golden-horned Moon, and brilliant stars, those who are received in the Ocean’s lap, look at this, Sweet-breathed Ariste is gone forsaking, [she left] me alone, And for six days I could not find the witch, But I will find her, If I send the silver tracking dogs of Aphrodite. (Greek Anthology V. 16)

Apollonius of Rhodes notes that Sappho composed a lyric about the Selene and Endymion mythos (Campbell 1982, 197). He states that Sappho wrote of the love of Selene for Endymion, an expression of pathetic fallacy (the moon as Selene, feels love for a man, Endymion). This theme is potentially pursued by one Hellenistic Epigrammatist, Philodemus.

If the fragments of Sappho presented earlier are considered alongside this text, then there are clear links between the three. The epigram is almost an amalgamation of the two Sapphic fragments with an expansion of the narrative. The stars in this text sink away while the moon is given focus. The direct borrowing of a phrase that relates to being ‘left alone’ is intriguing, and may indicate that Marcus

Hellenistic Epigrammatists The intense passionate and erotic imagery of Sappho has been extensively emulated by other writers; her colourful, sharp vocabulary and compositional style would have served as an attractive model, argues Acosta-

  GA.IX.6: “ἐννεά τὰς Μούσας φασίν τινες, ὡς ὀλιγώρως / ἠνίδε καὶ Σαπφὼ Λεσβόθεν ἡ δεκάτη.” “Some say there are nine Muses, this is too few, see here, for Sappho from Lesbos is the tenth”

1

40

Receiving Sappho’s Erotic Moon - A Very Literary Affair Argentarius was well acquainted with Sappho’s work. If this is an adaptation of the earlier work, it suggests an expansion of the Sapphic theme of being left alone under the moon’s watch, to being forsaken by the beloved and calling the moon to witness the injustice. The lack of vowel contraction in some words may be an attempt to mimic the Aeolic dialect of Sappho; which is rich in uncontracted forms. The word for “shining”, ‘περιλαμπεῖς’ is a modification of the cognate appearing in Sappho fragment four ‘λάμπη’, “shine”, or “torch”. Word selection such as this must be more than coincidental, suggesting that Marcus Argentarius did indeed have Sappho in mind when composing this epigram.

witness to some erotic events, is similar to fragment one of Sappho – calling Aphrodite to be witness to the erotic injustice done to the poetess and help her right the wrong. Even the use of the word to shine (φαίνω) is a potential reference to a Sapphic underpinning, recalling the shining forms of the moon and stars in fragment four (φάεννον εἶδος). Philodemus also refers to the moon as Selene (Σελήνη), and while this is not the same spelling/dialectal variation as the word in Sappho’s lyric, it is cognate. That Philodemus picked Selene over other words for moon (the most common being μήνη, Ούρανία, or, Ἰώ), in my opinion, coupled with its repetition, rather than variance in language or the use of a more commonly occurring word would suggest that Philodemus was composing this epigram with Sappho as a model. Even though the original poem of Sappho about Selene and Endymion is lost it is possible that Philodemus had it in mind when composing this epigram.

Philodemus’ epigram shares a similarity with that of Marcus Argentarius; both refer to the moon as being a ‘horned’ figure. There is also a similarity in the manner of presenting both Moons as erotic characters. As established, given Philodemus’ scholarly lineage, it is not impossible to consider that he would have had access to the Sapphic corpus. That being said, it is impossible to determine whether Philodemus composed his epigram based on Sappho’s Endymion and Selene lyric, based on thematic content. As a result, I contend through an analysis of the philological and aesthetic techniques that Sappho was an inspiration, if not model for this epigram.

Philodemus and Marcus Argentarius borrow the pattern of an Erotic Moon directly from Sappho; similarities in poetic style and phraseology reveal this to be the case. The literary tradition of an eroticised moon does not end with the Hellenistis epigrammatists; because, in turn, there are poets of the Roman Empire who are influenced by the Hellenistic Epigrams. Propertius

Νυκτερινή, δίκερως, φιλοπάννυχε, φαῖνε, Σελήνη, φαῖνε, δι’ εὐτρήτων Βαλλομένη θυρίδων. αὔγαζε χρυσένη Καλλίστιον, ἐς τὰ φιλεύντων ἔργα κατοπτεύειν οὐ φθόνος ἀθανάτῃ. ὀλβίζεις καὶ τήνδε καὶ ἡμέας, οἶδα, Σελήνη, καὶ γὰρ σὴν ψυχὴν ἔφλεγεν Ἐνδυμίων.

The influence of Hellenistic Epigrams on Propertian Elegy has already been well established. Many themes have been identified in the epigrams of Meleager and subsequently in the elegies of Propertius.2 (Papanghelis 1987; Gutzwiller 1998, 76, 283; Hatch 2006, iii; Bettenworth 2007, 92). One text from the Monobiblos will be presented, as will two texts from the second and two texts from the third book of Elegies. These excerpts shall be evaluated against the Hellenistic epigrams presented above in order to complete the trace of the theme of the moon as an erotic witness, with analysis for similarities between the Sapphic corpus, and epigrammatic forebears.

Nightly, two-horned, friend to the all-night partygoer, shine, Selene (Moon), shine. Be cast through lattice windows, Golden one, see Callistion clearly, it is no shame for immortal [you] to spy her out in deeds of amour. You make her, and indeed me happy, I know, Selene, for even Endymion burned up your soul (Greek Anthology V. 123)

The first two elegies of Propertius may include images borrowed from Sappho. In light of the established borrowing relationship of Propertius to Meleager, it is possible that he has borrowed from Sappho as well. nec licet in triviis sicca requiescere luna, aut per rimosas mittere verba fores.

The first point that is reminiscent of Sappho is the chain of epithets ascribed to the goddess before she is named; this is similar to the first line of fragment one of Sappho ‘Ποικιλόθρον ἀθάνατ’ Ἀφροδίτα’ (Deathless, colourfulthroned Aphrodite). Even the syllabic scheme of the first two adjectives is similar, in both texts the first adjective comprises four syllables, and the second is three. The use of imperatives when addressing the goddess is another similarity. Sappho tells Aphrodite to not break (δάμνα) her heart, but to come here (τυῖδ’ ἐλθ΄), in Philodemus’ text the goddess is implored twice to shine (φαῖνε), and once to look clearly (αὔγαζε) on the beloved in flagrante delicto. The concept of this epigram – calling the moon to bear

I may not sleep on the dry land at the crossroads, under the moon, nor [am I allowed]may I send words through crackcovered doors. (Propertius ii.17.15-16). harum nulla solet rationem quaerere mundi,   Implying that Propertius was inspired by, and emulated the works of Meleager.

2

41

Tom Sharkie nec cur fraternis Luna laboret equis.

elegy describe an erotic tête-à-tête between Cynthia and the cast out Propertius. One can assume that the moon, gazing through the window, is witness to this amorous conversation. In this way it is possible that Propertius has composed this elegy with the epigram of Philodemus as a model. Rather than explicitly saying that the moon should bear witness to the erotic acts of mortals, he adapts the theme to his own purpose. Propertius moves away from describing the moon directly, and proceeds to a presentation of an erotic act, to which, readers familiar with Philodemus can only believe, the moon is witness. If the moon is taken to have observed the actions of the mortals, then, with the direct borrowing of cognate words (fenestras) and structures (use of the passive) from Philodemus, it seems that the epigrammatist has a direct influence on Propertius’ composition of at least this section of the elegy. Further, the moon is presented voyeuristically – She is asked to linger for just a while longer over the first bed of the lovers in this excerpt; a similar presentation is seen at Propertius i.3.31-3, at ii.17.15-16, and in the epigram of Philodemus (where the moon peers through the lattice at Callistion). Propertius has, by the third book of his Elegies, fully adopted the theme of the moon as an erotic witness, and has furthermore transformed the theme, and adapted it to fit his own poetic agenda.

None of these girls is accustomed to asking the reason of the world, nor [to asking] why the moon outdoes the horses of her brothers. (Propertius ii.34b.28-29) The first elegy above (Prop.ii.17.15-16) is similar to the Sapphic lyric (fragment four). Both texts describe the poet as sleeping alone under the hopeful gaze of the moon. The Propertian elegy suggests that something (love) is depriving him of the sleep he desires. Compare this with the Sapphic lyric fragment; the poetess is forced to lie (alternate rendering of κατεύδω) alone, due to the absence of her beloved. There are similarities between the Sapphic original and the Propertian elegy. It should be apparent that the second locus above (Prop.II.34b.28-29) is again reminiscent of fragment four. This notion can be further potentiated if readers are to believe that the ‘horses of her brothers’ (fraternis equis) are constellations (Pegasus and Equuleus), stars. The moon is outshining the stars, and is again in receipt of the viewer’s full attention. In a similar fashion to the Sapphic lyric, it is the beloved that beguiles the minds of men, and forces other girls into the background. Given the similarity in thematic content between the lyrics and the Elegies of Propertius, it is reasonable to argue that the elegist composed these works with a Sapphic model at hand.

Yannis Ritsos Yannis Ritsos is a peculiar Greek literary figure with a difficult poetic character. Ritsos was committed to a sense of historical continuity (Spanos 1973, 18), therefore his poetry is a particularly good place to look for elements of influence from earlier Greek poetry, in particular influence from the archaic Greek poetic genius of Sappho.3 All Modern Greek poets would have felt the influence of their literary heritage, namely Ancient Greek poetry, upon their own writings (Green 1996, 90). Ritsos is no different, and therefore definitely holds elements of Ancient Greek literature in his work. Ritsos would also have been familiar with the works of the Romantic poets, and it would be unreasonable to argue that he was unfamiliar with the works of Goethe as well.

The third elegy of the Monobiblos details an episode regarding the moon in erotic terms. The few lines describing the moon are very similar to the epigram of Philodemus seen above. donec diversas praecurrens luna fenestras, luna moraturis sedula luminibus, compositos levibus radiis patefecit ocellos. … languidis exactis, ei mihi, sideribus? At last the moon is running past distant windows, Attentive moon with devoted light, with polished rays opened [Cynthia’s] closed eyes. …. [Where have you spent the night, coming home now] tired, as stars are extinguished? (Propertius i.3.31-33, 38)

The one work of Ritsos to directly discuss the moon in erotic terms is the poem ‘Moonlight Sonata’ (Η Σονάτα του Σεληνόφωτος).4 It is my argument that this poem, and

  Of course, there is another step between the Modern Greek poetry of Yannis Ritsos and the archaic Lyrics of Sappho. This step is the Romantic poetry of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, including the German Romantic poet Goethe, who was significantly influenced by Propertius. While deserving of mention, this is no place for a full exploration of the impact that the Classics had on the Romantic writers. For a discussion of the influence of Sappho on Keats, see Harter Fogle (1953). For a further consideration of the Classics, more generally, and its impact on the romantics, one should read Peterson (1994), and Burriss (1926). 4   The Greek title suggests that the Sonata is a product of the moonlight. Interestingly, the root of the word for moonlight (σελην-) is a historical cognate for the same word/name, used by Sappho, to address the moon. It is intriguing that Ritsos used this word, rather than a more logical and ‘contemporary’ Modern Greek construction to render the word. This may suggest an implicit relationship to Sappho, or other writers of Greek antiquity.

The last line of the Latin text above may suggest a further reference to Sappho. The poet is lamenting over the absence of the lover who has, now, been gone so long that the stars are beginning to sink (Δέδυκε μὲν ἀ σελάννα καὶ Πληίαδες); potentially being a further nod to the fact that Propertius was familiar with, and inspired by the works of Sappho.

3

The image of the moon passing by windows is similar to the section from Philodemus imploring the moon to be similarly cast through lattices. Subsequent lines of the

42

Receiving Sappho’s Erotic Moon - A Very Literary Affair its erotic nature, makes direct use of the lunate elements seen in Propertius’ third elegy from the Monobiblos.

it is likely that Ritsos knowingly made use of classical models, and motifs in the composition of this poem. Conclusion

Ἀνοιξιάτικο βράδυ. Μεγάλο δωμάτιο παλιοῦ σπιτιοῦ. Μιὰ ἡλικιωμένη γυναίκα ντυμένη στὰ μαῦρα μιλάει σ᾿ ἕναν νέο. Δὲν ἔχουν ἀνάψει φῶς. Ἀπ᾿ τὰ δυὸ παράθυρα μπαίνει ἕνα ἀμείλικτο φεγγαρόφωτο. Ξέχασα νὰ πῶ ὅτι ἡ γυναίκα μὲ τὰ μαῦρα ἔχει ἐκδώσει δυό-τρεῖς ἐνδιαφέρουσες ποιητικὲς συλλογὲς θρησκευτικῆς πνοῆς. Λοιπόν, ἡ Γυναίκα μὲ τὰ μαῦρα μιλάει στὸν νέο.

Sappho is an uncontestably important literary antecedent for later writers. Hellenistic writers adore Sappho for the liberties afforded to them through her own works. And the Roman writers often praise, and acknowledge the Hellenistic authors for their contribution to literary lineage. This praise frequently takes the form of literary emulation, and borrowing, subsequently offering their own composition a sense of high literary flavour and a strong connection to the past. This praise of Sappho opens interesting literary dialogues between later writers, the poet herself, and the tropes found in these works.

Ἄφησέ με ναρθῶ μαζί σου. Τί φεγγάρι ἀπόψε! Εἶναι καλὸ τὸ φεγγάρι, - δὲ θὰ φαίνεται ποὺ ἄσπρισαν τὰ μαλλιά μου. Τὸ φεγγάρι θὰ κάνει πάλι χρυσὰ τὰ μαλλιά μου. Δὲ θὰ καταλάβεις. Ἄφησέ με νἄρθω μαζί σου.

The Romantic writers, though not discussed at length here, imitate and emulate their ‘masters’, who were the Greek and Roman authors writing hundreds of years before. Their literary affiliation is one of love, philhellenism being the clear driving force behind the adaptation of earlier Greek models by the Romantics. To that end, it is not uncommon to be able to follow the development of a theme through antiquity, and into the 19th century. And by affiliation, early modern writers, such as Yannis Ritsos, continue the literary tradition through their adaptation, and appropriation of literary themes and tropes that exist in the Romantics, and writers of antiquity.

A Spring evening. In a grand room of an old house. An older woman, dressed in black, is speaking to a younger man. They have not turned on the lights. Through the two windows comes an unsparing moonbeam. I forgot to mention that the woman in black has published two or three poetic volumes, with a fine religious flavour. Enough now, the woman in black speaks to the youth: Let me come with you. What a moon there is tonight. The moon is kind, it won’t reveal that my hair is whitened. The moon will make my hair gold once more. I doubt you would understand. But please, let me come with you. (Yannis Ritsos Moonlight Sonata L.1-9)

Ritsos is a special case, however, not only does he have the direct influence of the Greek past to guide his composition, but also the influence of the Roman writers, by way of the Romantics. In an attempt to describe his own (literary) heritage, and historical descent, Ritsos calls upon the images of the Roman and Greek writers. He aims to adhere to the literary traditions that have underpinned western writing since the Hellenistic age, emulation and adaptation. He emulates earlier writers and adapts historical knowledge and literary practice to suit his own milieu. Ritsos engages the grandeur of classical (Greek) history in the linguistic and poetic style, but also the literary themes employed in his composition.

There are two moments in the above excerpt demonstrating potentially strong links to the classical antecedents. The first is that the moon peers in through two windows. This is highly reminiscent of the Propertian version ‘the moon runs past distant windows’, and the original of Philodemus. Next, the moon is personified in the ‘Moonlight Sonata’. It is ascribed the human characteristic of kindness. As we have seen, the ally moon in the classical texts acts in a manner that comforts and benefits the speaker. The use of a moon that would perform favour for the older lady, may indicate that Ritsos was influenced by classical forebears.

This theme has a historical lineage that can be traced through antiquity; evidence presented in this paper also suggests that Yannis Ritsos continues the theme in one of his poetic works. This trope may be so pervasive due to the universality of the moon – it is an entity that has fascinated poetic imaginations from the earliest times, to the present day. As an erotic figure, it is the only ally to a lonely lover. And via possible association with Hecate, and subsequently magic, it is possible that classical poets employ the Moon as they would Aphrodite; to be their ally, and somehow affect the beloved. Both of these strands are seen throughout the iterations of this trope through literary history.

The nature of the text is playfully erotic, the older woman seeks to be taken away with the sprightly youth. The eroticism of this poem is confirmed by a later episode which uses highly sensual imagery to describe elements of nature, coupled with the older woman’s pleas to be taken by the youth. Ritsos introduces the moon early in the text, stating that it casts light through the windows of the old house, and is arguably present for the duration of the interaction between the old woman and the youth. This is reminiscent of the Propertian model, in which the moon is the witness to an amorous conversation. With that in mind,

Sappho is the first writer to have invested the moon with erotic features. This is picked up by later Hellenistic 43

Tom Sharkie writers due, in part, to their attraction to her poikilia, or flowery compositional style. The Romans, having access to both Sappho and to the Hellenistic writers, recognise a thematic and literary dialogue, and similarly adapt and emulate the themes that are already established. For Propertius, this means further investing the moon with erotic characteristics, making it witness to the erotic play that occurs in his elegies.

Bettenworth, A. 2007. ‘The Mutual Influence of Inscribed and Literary Epigram’ in Brill’s Companion to Hellenistic Epigram, edited by Bing, P. & Bruss, J. Leiden: Brill, 69-93. Burriss, E. E. 1926. ‘The Classical Culture of Percy Bysshe Shelley’. The Classical Journal 21: 344-354. Campbell, D. A. 1982. Greek Lyric Poetry. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Gosetti-Murrayjohn, A. 2006. ‘Sappho’s Kisses: Biographical Tradition and Intertextuality at AP 5.246 and 5.236’. The Classical Journal 102: 21-45. Greene, E. 1999. Re-Reading Sappho: Reception and Transmission. Berkeley: University of California Press. Green, P. 1996. ‘Myth, Tradition, and Ideology in the Greek Literary Revival: The Paradoxical Case of Yannis’. Arion 4: 88-111. Gutzwiller, K. J. 1998. Poetic Garlands: Hellenistic Epigrams in Context. Berkeley: California University Press. Harter Fogle, R. 1953. ‘Keat’s Ode to a Nightingale’. Proceedings of the Modern Language Association 68: 211-222. Hatch, J. S. 2006. Poetic Voices and Hellenistic Antecedents in the Elegies of Propertius. PhD thesis, Univercity of Cincinnati. Méndez Dosuna, J. 2008. ‘The Literary Progeny of Sappho’s Fawns: Simias’ Egg (AP.15.27.13-30) and Theocritus 30.18’. Mnemosyne 61: 192-206. Papanghelis, T. D. 1987. Propertius: A Hellenistic Poet on Love and Death. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Peterson, L. H. 1994. ‘Sappho and the Making of Tennysonian Lyric’. English Literary History 61: 121137. Spanos, W. V. 1973. ‘Yannis Ritsos’ Romiosini: Style as Historical Memory’. The American Poetry Review 2: 18-22. Yatromanolakis, D. 2001. ‘Visualising Poetry: An Early Representation of Sappho’. Classical Philology 96: 159-168. Zellner, H. 2008. ‘Sappho’s Sparrows’. Classical World 101: 435-442.

While Ritsos uses lunar images that are remarkably Propertian., whether he has adapted this model, or whether its inclusion is coincidental, is debatable. However, through his use of language, and thematic features, such as the personification and association of the moon with erotic interaction, it is reasonable to conclude that Ritsos made use of Sapphic, Propertian, and potentially other literary antecedents as models while composing ‘Moonlight Sonata’. References Primary Sources Paton W. R. (trans.) 1916. The Greek Anthology, Books 1-6 (Volume 1). Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Propertius. 1990. Propertius, Elegies. Translated by G.P. Goold. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Ritsos, Y. 2010. Yannis Ritsos – Poems. Translated by Manolis. Surrey: Libros Libertad. Sappho 1971. Sappho et Alcaeus. Fragmenta. Translated by E.M. Amsterdam: Athenaeum-Polak &Van Gennep. West, M. L. (trans.) 2003. Homeric Hymns. Homeric Apocrypha. Lies of Homer. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Secondary Sources Acosta-Hughes, B. 2010. Arion’s Lyre: Archaic Lyric into Hellenistic Poetry. New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Bennett, C. 1994. ‘Concerning “Sappho Schoolmistress”’. Transactions of the American Philological Association 124: 345-347.

44

Method and Theory

Predynastic Female Figurines: A Reappraisal of the El-Ma’Mariya Corpus Ryna Ordynat

Abstract In 1968, Peter Ucko published a catalogue of all the known figurines from the Predynastic period, separating them into those that come from known and stratified excavations, and those from ambiguous or purchased contexts. Ucko’s work was very detailed and extensive; however he chose to exclude certain types of figurines, such as ivory and bone tags, from his analysis. Additionally, since this publication, there have been a number of new excavations, as well as revisions of the early 20th century excavation reports from Predynastic sites. New material and analysis has appeared, but no revision of the entire corpus of the figurines has been attempted. My aim, therefore, will be to present the collection of the provenanced and excavated figurines, focusing particularly on the females. I will be looking at the figurines which have been omitted by Ucko, or which have been discussed since his publication, and briefly at the bought figurines, and additional related material for comparison purposes. My goal is to display the variety and diversity of these female figurines - a diversity of style, form, material and context. I hope to show through this presentation that diversity is a crucial factor that must be carefully considered when analysing and interpreting this particular body of data.

Introduction

bought from local dealers (Ucko and Hodges 1963, 205). Most human figurines were excavated or bought in the early 20th Century, and most of those that were excavated come from locations in Upper Egypt. The most striking and consistent characteristic of Predynastic human figurines is their diversity. They present a great variety of styles, materials, quality and contexts, some being found in relatively small graves with very few grave goods, and other in graves with an abundance of valuable materials and goods. They have been buried with children as well as with men and women of different ages.

This paper will present a case study of the 18 female figurines from the Predynastic cemetery of El-Ma’mariya, excavated by Henri De Morgan in 1908. In this paper, the definition ‘female’ will be based on two identifiers. The first is sexual characteristics such as breasts and genitalia,. The second, derived from an analysis of all excavated female figurined dating to the Predynastic, is the high waist to hip ratio. In every example of excavated female figurines from this period the narrow waist and wide hips are deliberately used to indicate the female figure. Although further study and more careful dating of the figurines and other artefacts found in the cemetery is needed, the El’Ma’mariya collection of figurines represents the only provenanced and datable examples of the famous raised curved arm pose from female three-dimensional figures in Predynastic art. This arm pose is also found on decorated pottery and linen, and many purchased and unprovenanced figurines, which are said to belong to the Predynastic period. This paper will examine their make, features and context, and discuss and critique the various theories that have been proposed about their meanings and functions, focusing particularly on the raised-arm pose and its significance. In doing this, the paper will outline a more encompassing approach to future studies of Predynastic figurines.

The Figurines The figurines which form the basis of this case study were excavated by Henri De Morgan at the Predynastic cemetery of El-Ma’mariya in January, 1908, and published in the Annales du Service des Antiques de l’Égypte in 1912, and which are now located in the Brooklyn Museum in New York. These are quite unique in the collection of excavated female figurines from the Predynastic period. At El-Ma’mariya, a cemetery was excavated that has been dated to the early Naqada II period (Needler 1984, 336). During his excavation, De Morgan (1912, 37) uncovered 232 graves, but much of the information has been lost as he only documented those burial which he decided were the most important, totalling 26 (De Morgan 1912, 32-37). The graves had been disturbed by the nearby villagers, from whom De Morgan later recovered unprovenanced looted artefacts (De Morgan 1912, 30). The figurines and fragments recorded by De Morgan, which will be described and discussed below, were found in two graves – Tomb 2 and Tomb 186. Unfortunately, De Morgan provided no grave plans or illustrations in his work.

During the Badarian to the late Naqada II period a number of female figurines of varied appearance and quality were produced, mostly recovered from graves. Very little is known about their functions and significance, and there is no doubt that human figurines in general represent a very puzzling source of information for Predynastic Egypt. There is an estimated total of 307 figurines that have been provisionally dated to the Predynastic period; but only 77 of these have been properly excavated, and therefore have a definite provenance (Ucko 1968, 66). The rest have been either found in fill or on the surface of the excavation and therefore cannot be securely dated, or else they have been

Tomb 2 contained a ‘folded up’ body, the sex of which was not recorded, two rough ware vessels, two black

47

Ryna Ordynat topped pots, a cup, a white cross lined dish1 near the feet of the skeleton and a flint tool near the skull (De Morgan 1912, 30). It also contained two figurines (see Fig. 1), one partially broken and one whole, both with raised arms (De Morgan 1912, 30). Figurine 1, sometimes called the ‘bird lady’ because of its distinct beaked or bird-like facial features, has been the most frequently used and publicised, since it is the only figurine to have survived intact (Adams 1988, 55; Garfinkel 2003, 233; Hendricks, Huyge and Wendrich 2010, 26; Lesko 1999, 9; Patch 2011, 133; Wengrow 2006, 104-105; 2011, 98;). It is made from fine fired clay and covered in a red ochre wash and is painted white from the waist down, which is thought to represent a skirt (Needler 1984, 336). Its arms are uplifted, and its hands are curved inward. The resin residue on the back of the figurine’s head suggests that it originally had hair (Needler 1984, 336). The second figurine from this grave (Fig. 1, Figurine 2) is almost identical in style, but somewhat larger and with the upper arms broken off. The high quality of these two figurines, seen in the refined clay they are made from and the fine shaping and detail of the figurines, is unmatched by any other found at ElMa’mariya, or arguably in Predynastic Egypt in general (Needler 1984, 336).

Tomb 186 contained, as described by De Morgan (1912, 37), three large urns, four dishes, five vases and four black topped pots. It also contained fragments of approximately 16 or 17 figurines, though these were in very bad condition since this part of the cemetery had been badly damaged by irrigation (De Morgan 1912, 37). The funerary context of these figurines is quite unique, when compared to the rest of female figurines that come from the Predynastic Period, since this is the only example of approximately 16 figurines, as well as additional fragments, having been found in one grave. Four of these figurines, although in varying states of preservation, appear to have once had raised arms, like the two figurines from Tomb 2. Two other figurines, one of which is broken from the waist down and the other missing a head, have stump arms. This is a significant detail, because this group of figurines is mostly known for its characteristic upraised arm position, and yet it is now often mentioned that several of the figurines have stumped arms. The importance of this stylistic feature, however, will be discussed later in the paper. The remainder are fragments of the lower bodies of figurines, some of which have traces of white paint remaining, making it impossible to determine their arm positions. There are also several fragments of arms and hands.2 One other figurine, apparently also excavated by De Morgan, currently located at Musée des Antiquites Nationales, Saint-Germain-en-Laye, could also have belonged to this collection from Tomb 186 (Needler 1984, 340). Although most figurines are missing a head, the only three with their heads intact have beak-like elongated features exactly like the Tomb 2 figurines. The graceful lines of the body and the smoothness of the stylised postures make these figurines unique within the Predynastic corpus of female figurines. Comparative Material The upraised arm gesture, which several of the figurines from El-Ma’mariya are represented in, has been subject to extensive scholarly discussion (Hassan 1992, 1998, 2002; Henrickx & Eyckerman 2011, 2012; Patch 2011; Wengrow 2006, 2011). The female figure with upraised arms curved inward and wearing a long skirt was indeed a widespread motif, and used extensively during the Predynastic period (Kantor 1944, 177). The debate therefore also centres on the meaning of similar poses and stylistic features found in human representation in the Predynastic period, including several bought or unstratified female figurines, decorated and sculptured pottery, linen and occasionally rock art (Patch 2011, 113). The unstratified figurine found on the surface in the Predynastic cemetery of Qau bears a close resemblance to the simplified and flowing style of the ElMa’mariya figurines, in particular those with stump arms (Adams 1992, 12). As do some fragments of bird-headed figurines, which were found at Cemetery U at Abydos, and

Figure 1: Figurine 1 (‘bird lady’), left, and Figurine 2, Female Figure, reproduced with permission from the Brooklyn Museum, New York

right. After

  Descriptions of these figurines are based on the archival photographs received by the author from Kathy Zurek-Doule, the Curatorial Assistant of Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art at the Brooklyn Museum, in 2013

  Based on the pottery, these figurines have been dated to late Naqada I or early Naqada II (Stevenson 2011, 67; Needler 1984, 336).

1

48

.

2

Predynastic Female Figurines were made from clay modelled on a wooden stick (Hartung 2011, 467-468). Some of these fragments had facial features painted, with the eyes as slits painted in black, green and white (Hartung 2011, 468). Additionally, a jar dating to Naqada I with eight bird-headed female figurines shaped around the rim was also found at Cemetery U at Abydos, in tomb U502 (Hartung 2011, 470; Patch 2011, 115). The figures are holding hands and wearing white skirts, and resemble the el-Ma’mariya style very closely (Patch 2011, 114). The raised and curved arms pose, although rare, is specifically repeated in motifs on C and D-ware pottery (Hendrickx 2002; Graff 2009) the two linen paintings from Gebelein (Scamuzzi 1965, 16; Patch 2011, 114) and, as Hendrickx argues, in the famous Hierakonpolis ‘Painted Tomb’ 100 (Hendrickx 2011). In such representations the female figures are depicted with their arms upraised in the same curved manner as the figurines from El’Ma’mariya, and appear in groups, sometimes accompanied by smaller male figurines, and sometimes on boats (see Fig. 2).

themselves were fragile and time consuming to create, it is also very likely that they would have been significant in a symbolic, ritualistic or practical way (Relke 2011, 403). Their high quality further adds to this apparent significance (Needler 1984, 336). Interpretations of the El-Ma’mariya figurines, those with raised arms in particular, range far and wide, and are still debated by scholars (Hassan 1992, 1998, 2002; Henrickx & Eyckerman 2011, 2012; Patch 2011; Wengrow 2006, 2011). The idea of a wide-spread worship of a mother goddess in areas such as Egypt, the Mediterranean and the ancient Near East has now been generally rejected, as the archaeological and anthropological evidence is scarce and unspecific, and the female figurines that provide the backbone of the theory are separated temporally and geographically (Graves-Brown 2010, 18). However, a popular current theory connects the figurines with a bovine fertility goddess, based on Predynastic art imagery, including pottery, rock art and the upraised arm figurines from El-Ma’mariya (Lesko 1999, 11). Hassan (1992, 1998, 2002), the most staunch supporter of this theory, describes a cult based on the goddess of birth, death and resurrection as the main religious practice in Predynastic Egypt. He describes the iconography of this bovine goddess as being evident in the female figurines with raised arms, and states that women in Neolithic and Predynastic Egypt could have been connected ritually with cattle and cattle herding (Hassan 1992, 314). He argues that since women’s daily activities would have included grinding and cooking grain, they would have also had a ritual connection to agriculture and fertility, which he ties in as influence for the bovine goddess cult (Hassan 1992, 314). Other evidence that he uses to support his theory is the apparent ritual link between women and water, which he sees in the tattoos or markings on the bodies of female figurines from the Predynastic (Hassan 1992, 315; Hassan and Smith 2002, 59). Most of the figurines he uses as examples, however, are unprovenanced or bought, such as the raised arm figurine from the Ashmolean museum (Payne 1993, Fig. 7). In fact, most Predynastic studies that feature figurines will include purchased examples, which raises authenticity and accuracy issues. Hassan (1992, 315; 1998, 105; Hassan and Smith 2002, 59) additionally draws a connection to the sky in the beak-like features of some of the Predynastic figurines and the fact that both women and cows give milk and are therefore seen as nurturers and givers of life. Hassan (1998, 105) argues that these symbolic psychological associations from the religions of Predynastic Egypt created the later Egyptian religious symbolism of resurrection, death and the afterlife. Wilkinson (2003, 15) contributes to this theory by pointing to ethnographic evidence from the Sahara around 7000 BCE, when cattle may have been venerated even before domestication.

Current Interpretations of the Figurines In general, when examining the figurines in regards to their stylistic and practical features, together with the pottery and linen paintings, several stylistic and design elements should be considered. The fluidity and the skill with which the details of female anatomy are represented alone could be an indication of a symbolic or abstract meaning understood by contemporaries. The stylised proportions and exaggerations of the female form were suggested by Adams (1992, 12) to be indications that a female potter sculpted the figurines. The abstract nature of the style could easily extend to the beaked and pointed features, perhaps exaggerated and overly simplified either for fear of superstition, or simply for stylistic purposes (Needler 1984, 337; Baumgartel 1960, 69). Since the figurines

Hendrickx (Hendrickx et. al. 2009, 215) builds further on Hassan’s theories and also associates the curved raised arms of the El-Ma’mariya with bovine horns, suggesting its association with bull symbolism. Hendrickx and

Figure 2: Predynastic D-ware designs, after Relke (2011, 406)

49

Ryna Ordynat Eyckerman (2012, 35) interpret the beak-like features as bird heads, arguing that they are repeated in other Predynastic art forms, like palettes, combs, amulets and flints. They argue that the best evidence to support the bovine horns as upraised arms is the notion that Predynastic artists did not have a conception of realism, but operated with abstract combinations of overlapping imagery and ideas to create iconography, although such an idea is problematic when considering the number of very realistic depictions of animals in figurine form that come from the Predynastic period (Hendrickx and Eyckerman 2012, 37). They also consider it possible that different context and meaning constructions existed for people in Predynastic Egypt in the combination of bovine and bird elements in the female figurine iconography (Hendrickx and Eyckerman 2011, 535). The significance of the bird and bull imagery as individual symbols is obvious to Hendrickx and Eyckerman (2011, 535), but the meaning of their combination is unknown. The simplicity and the lack of detail in the head and facial representation in the raised arm figurines are used as an example to further argue that the purpose of the artist was never to represent individual features, or to express individual creativity (Hendrickx and Eyckerman 2011, 528). Instead, Hendrickx and Eyckerman (2011, 528) are certain that more formulaic and systematic art forms were already in place in the Predynastic, and that uniqueness is a purely modern concept not understood in Predynastic Egypt. Taking up Eyckerman and Hendrickx’s ideas, which are compelling, Wengrow (2011, 98) goes even further to suggest that such incorporation of bovine iconography into death and ritual practices shows a more profound link with the political, social and economic aspects of the life in the Predynastic period, leading on to connect cattle cult practices with the later iconography of the Narmer palette and state formation in Early Dynastic Egypt.

Since the Predynastic period directly preceded the Early Dynastic period and the Old Kingdom, when religious beliefs and practices began to be recorded by the Egyptians, many interpretations of the raised arm figurines based on the later dynastic Egyptian religion have been put forward. There are significant problems in using later dynastic culture to interpret the Predynastic period, mostly stemming from the vast time difference between these two periods and little allowance for change and regional variation. However, the bird-like facial features, female genetalia and the uplifted curving arms have been used in combination to argue the apparent connection with later Egyptian deities (Hassan 1992, 1998, 2002). First, the dynastic significance of the raised arms is centred on the concept of the Ka, which is part of the human soul associated with mortuary practices (Relke 2011, 403; 2001, 307). The hieroglyph for the word Ka resembles raised arms bent at the elbows (Relke 2011, 403), which could be a later dynastic version of the uplifted arms gesture of the El-Ma’mariya figurines. Frequently, the bird-like beaked heads of the figurines have been used extensively as evidence for a continuation of such anthropomorphic features into the dynastic times when representing gods and goddesses (Relke 2011, 409). Nut, Isis and Nephthys have been put forward as being represented in an earlier form in these female figurines by Relke (2011, 410411; 414-419); however, the primary suggestion for a representation of a dynastic goddess is Hathor (Murray 1956, 92; Baumgartel 1960, 144-146; Payne 1993, 34; Hassan 2002, 56-57). The early appearance of Hathor, the goddess of love and fertility in dynastic Egypt, in the Predynastic has often been looked for in cow head and horn imagery, which has been found on pottery, amulets and flints (Griffiths 1996, 13). Votive female figurines devoted to Hathor have been found extensively throughout the dynastic period, and the uplifted and curved arms of the El-Ma’mariya figurines are most frequently interpreted as cow horns, as has been discussed above (Relke 2001, 315). Nude female figurines are, in fact, known to have been used in the Middle Kingdom as fertility offerings to Hathor in tombs (Pinch 1993, 198). Another possible interpretation is the sky goddess Nut, often depicted with her arms stretched upward (Relke 2001, 320). The leaning body posture and the pendulous hanging breasts of the ElMa’mariya figurines have been interpreted as signifying hovering and not touching the ground, which has further added to the allusion to an early Predynastic version of Nut (Relke 2011, 410). However, neither of these goddesses are associated with bird imagery, which presents an obvious problem (Relke 2001, 320; Relke 2011, 412). Isis and Nephthys present a possibility, both being funerary goddesses, and both being mentioned as appearing in bird form in hieroglyphs in the Pyramid Texts (Relke 2001, 324). It has been suggested that the ‘spirit of Isis’ as a bird is recognisable in the figurines, and especially evident in their ‘hovering’ stance (Relke 2001, 325). It is possible that these female figurines represented a protective spirit, taken by the dead into the afterlife, and commonly

Some interpretations of the El-Ma’mariya figurines focus specifically on the raised arm pose as a gesture denoting a specific action or activity. One such activity could be that of a celebrant, performing the act of greeting or of praise (Patch 2011, 113). If the figurines represent individuals involved in a celebratory ritual, there are useful comparisons to be made, such as to the Gebelein linen paintings discussed above (Patch 2011, 113). Another popular interpretation is dancing, suggested frequently by Garfinkel (2001; 2003). In his argument Garfinkel (2003, 233) deals mostly with Predynastic pottery decoration, and argues that the uplifted arms are a typical Naqada II gesture and depict dancing scenes. He uses additional comparative material to imply that this dancing posture has special ritual or ceremonial symbolic significance, because the long duration of this specific motif throughout the development of artistic iconography during the Predynastic, as well as its appearance on a variety of decorated objects (Garfinkel 2001, 250). Prayer has also been suggested as a possible explanation, the uplifted arms being an act of invocation to higher powers or divine beings, and the figurines playing the role of votive adorants (Maringer 1979, 222-223).

50

Predynastic Female Figurines understood among the Upper Egyptian communities, with regional variations (Relke 2001, 334).

the possibility of a re-enactment of a ritual. Patch (2011, 113) suggests that a ritual could have existed in the first half of the Predynastic period, when the motif of women with uplifted arms seems to have been popular. This ritual could have included a gathering of individuals, probably women, and a combination of poses, including arms raised (Patch 2011, 113). Perhaps the figurines were used to model the set-out of the ritual proceedings, which explains them being part of a funerary package (Patch 2011, 115). However, such a set of model figurines is extremely rare. The only possible comparative example could be grave 271 at Naqada, excavated by Petrie, where four ivory female figurines were found standing in a row (Petrie 1896, 32). Therefore there is always a possibility that the figurines and the people who were buried with them did not serve a cultic or ritual role, which could explain their rarity (Patch 2011, 115).

In short, it is usually concluded by scholars such as Hassan (1992, 1998, 2002), Baumgartel (1960) and Relke (2011) that the figurines represented a common early funerary goddess, from which many dynastic goddesses originated, and which was also connected to the later developed mortuary cult and the concept of the Ka (Relke 2011, 421). A final addition to this group of interpretations must be that of the early cow goddess Bat of the Upper Egyptian nome seven, apparently also linked with the later Egyptian concept of the Ba, which is a part of a person’s soul in Dynastic Egyptian belief (Relke 2011, 413). This goddess is said to be found represented on Naqada II palettes, as well as the later Narmer palette, and as suggested before, the arms curved above the head could represent the goddesses’ horns (Hassan 2002, 57-59).

To add further to the methodology of Predynastic figurine studies, it is useful to consider the way figurines from other prehistoric cultures have been interpreted. Ucko (1962, 46) bases his interpretations of figurines from Predynastic Egypt, Near East and Mediterranean on ethnographic evidence and argues that figurines buried in tombs never represent deities, and are usually intended for practical or commemorative purposes. He (Ucko 1962, 47) argues that it is necessary to consider each figurine individually, and avoid generalising. Lesure (2002, 593), in constructing methodologies for interpreting figurines, selects four different figurine cultures (Near East, Mesoamerica, Southwest America and Japan), and concludes that different figurine studies face similar challenges, problems and restrictions in interpretation, even though their objects of study had different meanings. The complexity and accessibility of the figurine’s meaning to the makers and actors involved, and such meanings being internal or socially external is considered by Lesure (2002, 594). Lesure (2002, 594) also suggests that the meaning of a figurine could be beyond what the figurine physically portrays, referencing abstract concepts or ideas. In order to understand meaning beyond the object Lesure (2002, 593) applies other information, with three principles sources for identification of ancient figurine users: indigenous commentary, archaeological context and analogies. The problem of the validity of these sources may be avoided if the investigation focuses only on the archaeological information of the said culture. Lesure’s framework for a successful and productive figurine analysis is to employ several methods and sources of information (human universals, early and prehistoric general information, and theory of the structure of social formation, analogies and ethnographies), while acknowledging the largest problem with of analogy in its inability to deal with variability, especially regional variability. Bailey’s methodology (2007, 32-3), is similar in its approach to Lesure’s – he attempts to study the context, iconography and imagery of prehistoric figurines that emerged at similar times around the world through a universalist approach, testing the relationships of figurines and early pottery, and their possible connection to fertility. This approach does

In terms of funerary interpretations, it has been suggested that the arms are uplifted in a gesture symbolising resurrection (Adams 1988, 55), a mother’s or a goddesses’ protection and care in death and the afterlife (Hornblower 1929, 34) or ritual mourning (Patch 2011, 113). They also could have marked a stage in the grave owner’s life or a rite of passage, such as the change from puberty to full womanhood (Harrington 2004, 36). Baumgartel (1960, 70-71) denies the suggestion that these figurines could have been concubines for the dead, or serving figurines, and insists that they were fertility offerings for both female and male grave occupants, asking for children. The funerary context of the El-Ma’mariya figurines, however, is quite unique, compared to the rest of female figurines that come from the Predynastic period, due to the fact that this is the only case of figurines with raised arms that have been found in a grave, and that one of the two graves numbered approximately 16 or 17 figurines and several other fragments3 – the largest amount recorded in a Predynastic grave. One other possibility of figurines with raised arms coming from an excavated context is referred to by Di Pietro (2011), in his report of the excavations conducted at the Predynastic settlement site of Zawaydah. Unfortunately, only curved clay fragments of what may possibly have been the figurines’ arms remain (Di Pierdo 2011, 67), therefore the El-Ma’mariya raised arm figurine corpus remains the only excavated example to date. And yet, very little attention has been given to this irregularity. Midant-Reynes (2002, 47) suggests that this grave could have belonged to the sculptor of the figurines. She adds that they are status markers, showing that high social rank in Predynastic society was not exclusively identified by luxury materials, or by the wealth and large numbers of objects (Midant-Reynes 2002, 47). Other explanations for such a large number of figurines in a single grave include   Grave 186 from El-Ma’mariya contained 21 figurine fragments in total. From these, 6 were nearly complete figurines, 9 were fragments of lower bodies, and 6 were smaller fragments. One of the lower body fragments, however, was small enough to make it possible that 2 lower body fragments may come from a single figurine. This is the reason for uncertainty on the exact number of figurines belonging to grave 186.

3

51

Ryna Ordynat produce some interesting results, as Bailey concludes that the connection with early pottery and fertility cannot be used as a universal explanation for the meaning of female figurines (2007, 39). In his of analysis of figurines from Neolithic Europe is to study the figurines as individuals (1994, 323). Similarly to Ucko, he stresses that the accuracy depends not only on the visual examination of the figurine, but on the identification of the represented subject, and a detailed knowledge of the archaeological and social context of both figurine and subject represented. Individual identities represented in burial (1994, 329). Bailey further suggests (2013, 260) that elements of the body and decoration in the figurine may be less significant than the personification and abstract understanding of the body, constructing society’s definitions of identity, gender and the body. Figurine Arm Positions and their Significance The specific case study was chosen as a focus of this paper in order to highlight the fixation with the stylistic features of the raised arm El-Ma’mariya figurines that dominates the figurines studies of Predynastic Egypt. This approach, in focusing on such a small selection of material, even while acknowledging the wider selection of figurines in the Predynastic, is in itself highly selective. In fact, in Tomb 186, only four out of the 16 or 17 figurines had raised arms. Two had stump arms (Fig. 3), and the other eight or nine are only remains of lower bodies and the position of their arms is now impossible to ascertain. There are also five small fragments originating from this tomb, and while two are curved in the style of the two figurines from Tomb 2 and one is a fragment of a hand, two other fragments obviously represent the arm bending at the elbow.4 These fragments show that a variety of arm representations was used in the creation of these figurines, with no single specific arm position preference.

Figure 3: Stump Arm Figurine, After Figurine of Woman, reproduced with permission from the Brooklyn Museum, New York 31 have stump arms. Of the 12 others, six are the raised arm El’Ma’mariya figurines, and other six range from arms bent at the elbows, placed straight by the sides of the body or curved up to the face. Additionally, much of the Predynastic pottery decoration contains depictions of female figurines with stump arms, some occupying central positions in the composition (Fig. 4). Therefore, since the most frequently occurring arm position motif remains that of the stump arms, this skewed and biased focus solely on the raised arm pose as being significant in Predynastic figurines needs to be corrected. The stump arms motif should be given greater attention - perhaps a detailed compilation of the material containing this motif could be attempted in order to trace its appearance and development, since it seems to be quite consistent throughout Predynastic human depictions and iconography. It might be possible to determine if the arms may are deliberately omitted for perhaps practical reasons, or if this kind of omission is instead a stylistic or functional choice. Indeed, the painted depictions on pottery may suggest that stump arms served a more stylistic function, since a painted depiction would not need to omit arms as a figurine might, in order to avoid arm breakage

The contention that no special significance or preference was given to raised arm position in Predynastic figurines is further supported by the examination of other figurines from this period. The arm positions of most Predynastic figurines, both male and female, are quite varied: the similar looking figures on the rim of the vessel from grave U502 at Abydos (mentioned above) dating to Naqada II, are holding hands; another similar figurine found in 2013 at Hierakonpolis appears to have its arms folded across its chest. In terms of figurines that are not as similar in style to those from El-Ma’mariya, those that have stump arms are the most frequent in the catalogue of excavated Predynastic figurines collected by the author, while only seven figurines, all from El-Ma’mariya, have their arms raised. Out of a total of 43 figurines excavated from graves dating to the Naqada II period, of which the upper bodies survived (including El-Ma’mariya figurines),   These descriptions, as stated above, are based on the archival photographs received by the author from Kathy Zurek-Doule, the Curatorial Assistant of Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art at the Brooklyn Museum, in 2013.

.

4

52

Predynastic Female Figurines Eyckerman (2012, 36) place all their examples of cattle imagery together in their argument, without addressing the difference in their contexts and functions. Female figurines from earlier Predynastic period (Badarian and Naqada I) are entirely omitted by both Hassan and Hendrickx and Eyckerman. These interpretations would benefit greatly from incorporating a wider variety of Predynastic figurines, and from a further study of the figurines contexts. Unfortunately, there have not been any recent detailed studies of Predynastic female figurines that use all of the data, and this particular topic of Predynastic Egypt remains obscure in general. It is evident from the case study examined in this paper that a broader approach to the study of these figurines is necessary, focusing more particularly on the figurine’s context and position in the grave, and the possible significance of these factors. Without fixating excessively on the uniqueness of the appearance of a few selected figurines, the wide range and variety of Predynastic figurines ought to be studied and compared in its entirety. This will clearly aid the accuracy of their interpretation in future studies and correct the biases and generalisations associated with them, which have accumulated and have not yet been satisfactorily addressed.

Figure 4: Naqada II Decorated Ware, after Relke (2011, 63) Discussion In light of all that has been said so far, a further discussion of the work of Hassan and Hendrickx and Eyckerman, as the most prominent contributors in this topic will now follow. Hassan has been previously criticised by several scholars for the methods he uses to construct his theories (Brass 2003, Relke 2001). His exclusively female cattle cult theory is based solely on the figurines with raised arms, avoiding all other types of Predynastic human depiction, including male figurines (Brass 2003, 106). Hassan emphasises the apparent significance of certain features of some of the figurines: raised arms, tattoos and patterns, representations of sexuality, such as the pubic triangle and pendulous breasts, omitting to note the diversity of female figurine attributes (Relke 2001, 303). It is clear, simply from quoting such of Hassan’s statements as “the Naqada I Predynastic figurines are characterised by a beak-head shaped like that of a bird” (Hassan 1992, 313) that he has chosen to focus only on a limited part of the existing Predynastic figurines, and therefore his conclusions can be argued to be biased. Hendrickx and Eyckerman (2012, 35) have followed Hassan’s ideas, especially in the association of curved raised arms with bovine horns and the interpretation of the faces as bird-like features. They draw extensively on other bovine iconography found on Predynastic objects, such as palettes, flints, combs and rock are, developing an idea of a wide-spread bull and cow iconography representing a specific Predynastic cult (Hendrickx and Eyckerman 2012, 36-37). However, this is based upon a very small selection of female figurines from the Predynastic. There are many clear symbolic references to a cattle cult in Predynastic art and iconography, but it is questionable whether the El-Ma’mariya figurines contributed to it, especially when considering that not all the figurines have raised arms. Neither Hassan nor Eyckerman and Hendrickx mention the figurines’ context, or take into account the archaeology of the tombs they were found in (Relke 2001, 304). Additionally, Hendrickx and

Bibliography Adams, B. 1988. Predynastic Egypt, Aylesbury: Shire Publications. Adams, B. 1992. ‘A Predynastic Female Figurine’, KMT: A Modern Journal of Ancient Egypt, 3, 12-13. Bailey, D.W. 1994. ‘Reading Prehistoric Figurines as Individuals’, World Archaeology, 25, 321-331. Bailey, D.W. 2007. ‘Modes of Explanation for Prehistoric Imagery: Juggling Universalist, Historicist, and Contextualist Approaches in the Study of Early Figurines’ in C. Renfrew and I. Morley (eds) Image and Imagination: A Global Prehistory of Figurative Representation, Cambridge: McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, 31-48. Bailey, D.W. 2013. ‘Figurines, Corporeality and the Origins of the Gendered Body’, in E. Bolger (ed), A Companion to Gender Prehistory, New York: John Wiley & Sons, 244-264. Baumgartel, E. 1960. The Cultures of Prehistoric Egypt: Volume II, London: Oxford University Press. Brass, M. 2003. ‘Tracing the Origins of the Ancient Egyptian Cattle Cult’, in A.K. Eyma and C.J. Bennett, (eds) A Delta Man in Yebu: Occasional Volume of the Egyptologists’ Electronic Forum No. 1, Universal Publishers, 101-110. De Morgan, H. 1912. ‘Report on Excavations Made in Upper Egypt During the Winter 1907-1908’, Annales du Service des Antiques de l’Égypte, 12, 20-55. Di Pietro, G.A. 2011. ‘Miscellaneous Artefacts from Zawaydah (Petrie’s South Town, Naqada)’, in R. Friedman and P. N. Fiske (eds) Egypt at Its Origins 3: Proceedings of the Third International Conference 53

Ryna Ordynat “Origin of the State. Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt”, London, 27th July – 1st August 2007, Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters en Departement Oosterse Studies, 467-496. Friedman, R. 2013. Nekhen News, 25. Garfinkel, Y. 2001. ‘Dancing or Fighting? A Recently Discovered Predynastic Scene from Abydos, Egypt’, Cambridge Archaeological Journal, 11, 241-254. Garfinkel, Y. 2003 Dancing at the Dawn of Agriculture, Austin: University of Texas Press. Graff, G. 2009. Les Peintures sur Vases de Nagada I – Nagada II: Nouvelle Approche Sémiologique de l’Iconographie Prédynastique, Leuven University Press: Leuven. Graves-Brown, C. 2010. Dancing for Hathor: Women in Ancient Egypt, London: Continuum. Griffiths, J.G. 1996. Triads and Trinity, Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Hamilton, N. 1996. ‘Can We Interpret Figurines?’, Cambridge Archaeological Journal, 6, 281-307. Harrington, N. 2004. ‘Human Representation in the Predynastic Period: The Locality HK6 Statue in Context’, in S. Hendrickx, R. Friedman, K. M. Cialowicz and M. Chlodnicki (eds) Egypt at Its Origins – Studies in Memory of Barbara Adams: Proceedings of the International Conference “Origin of the State. Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt”, Krakow, 28th August – 1st September 2002, Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters en Departement Oosterse Studies, 27-43. Hartung, U. 2011. ‘Nile Mud and Clay Objects from the Predynastic Cemetery U at Abydos (Umm El-Qa’ab)’, in R. Friedman and P. N. Fiske (eds) Egypt at Its Origins 3: Proceedings of the Third International Conference “Origin of the State. Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt”, London, 27th July – 1st August 2007, Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters en Departement Oosterse Studies, 467-496. Hassan, F.A. 1992. ‘Primeval Goddess to Divine King: The Mythogenesis of Power in the Early Egyptian State’, in R. Friedman and B. Adams (eds) The Followers of Horus: Studies Dedicated to Michael Allan Hoffman, 1944-1990, Oxford: Oxbow, 307-322. Hassan, F.A. 1998. ‘The Earliest Goddess of Egypt: Divine Mothers and Cosmic Bodies’, in L. Goodison and C. Morris (eds), Ancient Goddess: The Myths and the Evidence, London: British Museum Press, 98-112. Hassan, F.A. 2004. ‘Between Man and Goddess: The Fear of Nothingness & Dismemberment’, in S. Hendrickx, R. Friedman, K. M. Cialowicz and M. Chlodnicki (eds) Egypt at Its Origins – Studies in Memory of Barbara Adams: Proceedings of the International Conference “Origin of the State. Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt”, Krakow, 28th August – 1st September 2002, Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters en Departement Oosterse Studies, 779- 800. Hassan, F.A. and S.J. Smith. 2002. ‘Soul Birds and Heavenly Cows: Transforming Gender in Predynastic Egypt’, in S. M. Nelson and M. Rosen-Ayalon (eds)

In Pursuit of Gender: Worldwide Archaeological Approaches, Walnut Creek: AltaMira Press, 43- 66. Hendrickx, S. 2002a. ‘Checklist of Predynastic “Decorated” Pottery with Human Figuration’, Cahiers Caribéens d’Égyptologie, 3-4, 29-50. Hendrickx, S. 2002b. ‘Bovines in Egyptian Predynastic and Early Dynastic Iconography’, in F. Hassan (ed) Droughts, Food and Culture: Ecological Change and Food Security in Africa’s Later Prehistory, New York: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 275- 320. Hendrickx, S. 2011. ‘Hunting and Social Complexity in Predynastic Egypt’, Academie Royale des Sciences d’Outre-mer, Bulletin des Séances / Koninklijke Academie voor Overzeese Wetenschappen, Mededelingen der Zittingen, 57, 237-263. Hendrickx, S. et al. 2009. ‘Late Predynastic/Early rock art scenes of Barbary sheep hunting in Egypt’s Western desert: from capturing wild animals to the women of the “Acacia House”’, in H. Reimer, F. Foster, M. Herb and N. Pollath (eds) Desert animals in the eastern Sahara: Status, economic significance, and cultural reflection in antiquity – Proceedings of an Interdisciplinary ACACIA Workshop held at the University of Cologne, December 14-15, 2007, Koln: Henrich Barth Institut, 189 – 262. Hendrickx, S., Huyge, D. And W. Wendrich. 2010. ‘Worship without Writing’, in W. Wendrich (ed.) Egyptian Archaeology, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 15-35. Hendrickx, S. and M. Eyckerman. 2011. ‘Tusks and Tags: Between the Hippopotamus and the Naqada Plant’, in R. Friedman and P. N. Fiske (eds) Egypt and Its Origins 3: Proceedings of the Third International Conference “Origin of the State. Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt”, London, 27th July – 1st August 2007, Leuven: Uitgeverij Peeters en Departement Oosterse Studies, 497-570. Hendrickx, S. and M. Eyckerman. 2012 ‘Visual Representation and State Development in Egypt’, Archeo-Nil, 22, 23-72. Hornblower, G.D. 1929. ‘Predynastic Figurines of Women and their Successors’, The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology, 15, 29-47. Kantor, H.J. 1944. ‘The Final Phase of Predynastic Culture Gerzean or Semainean’, Journal of Near Eastern Studies, 3, 110-136. Lesko, B.S. 1999. The Great Goddess of Egypt, Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Lesure, G.L. 2002. ‘The Goddess Diffracted: Thinking About the Figurines of Early Villages’, Current Anthropology, 43, 587-610. Maringer, J. 1979. ‘Adorants in Prehistoric Art: Prehistoric Attitudes and Gestures of Prayer’, Numen, 27, 215230. Midant-Reynes, B. 2002. ‘The Naqada Period (c. 40003200 BC)’, in I. Shaw (ed), The Oxford History of Ancient Egypt, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 4156.

54

Predynastic Female Figurines Origins of Egyptian Civilization, Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 65-74. Ucko, P. 1962. ‘The Interpretation of Prehistoric Anthropomorphic Figurines’, The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, 92, 38-54. Ucko, P. 1968. Anthropomorphic Figurines of Predynastic Egypt and Neolithic Crete with Comparative Material from the Prehistoric Near East and Mainland Greece, London: Andrew Szmilda. Ucko, P. and H.W.M. Hodges. 1963. ‘Some Pre-Dynastic Egyptian Figurines: Problems of Authenticity’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 26, 205-222. Wengrow, D. 2006. The Archaeology of Early Egypt: Social Transformations in North-East Africa, 10,000 to 2650 BCE, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wengrow, D. 2011. ‘Rethinking ‘Cattle Cults’ in Early Egypt: Towards a Prehistoric Perspective of the Narmer Palette’, Cambridge Archaeological Journal, 11, 91-104. Wilkinson, R.H. 2003. The Complete Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Egypt, London: Thames and Hudson.

Murray, M.A. 1956. ‘Burial Customs and Beliefs in the Hereafter in Predynastic Egypt’, The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology, 42, 86-96. Needler, W. 1984. Predynastic and Archaic Egypt in the Brooklyn Museum, New York: The Brooklyn Museum. Payne, J.C. 1993. Catalogue of the Predynastic Egyptian Collection in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Patch, D.C. 2011. Dawn of Egyptian Art, New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Petrie, W.M.F. 1896. Naqada and Ballas, London: B. Quaritch LTD. Pinch, G. 1993 Votive Offerings to Hathor, Oxford: Griffith Institute Ashmolean Museum. Relke, J. 2001. ‘The Predynastic Figurines of Upper Egypt’, PhD Dissertation: University of New England. Relke, J. 2011. ‘The Predynastic Dancing Egyptian Figurine’, Journal of Religion in Africa, 41, 396-426. Scamuzzi, E. 1965. Egyptian Art in the Egyptian Museum of Turin, New York: Harry N. Abrams, INC. Stevenson, A. 2011. ‘Material Culture of the Predynastic Period’, in E. Teeter (ed) Before the Pyramids: The

55

Approaches to Lithic Analysis: The Assemblage from Mut al-Kharab Sarah M. Ricketts Abstract The on-going excavations at Mut al-Kharab, located in Dakhleh Oasis within the Egyptian Western Desert, have revealed occupational evidence stretching from the indigenous Sheikh Muftah Cultural Unit and Old Kingdom Nile Egyptians through to the arrival of the Arabs. This paper explores various theoretical and methodological approaches that may be employed for the analysis of the lithic assemblage from the site of Mut al-Kharab, with a focus on a technological approach from a functionalist perspective. This paper does not seek to discuss results, but moreover to discuss the theoretical and methodological models that can be used to attempt an understanding of the early occupational activity of the site’s indigenous inhabitants, the Sheikh Muftah, as well as their responses to environmental and cultural pressures. By adopting a technological approach to analysis of the assemblage, key questions involving the organisational attributes of the Sheikh Muftah technology are explored, placed within the socio-environmental backdrop of the late Holocene Eastern Sahara. A functionalist approach to stone artefact analysis uses ecological and evolutionary theoretical frameworks, as well as palaeoenvironmental information, to investigate interrelationships between the ecological and environmental variables and aspects of a society’s social, economic and political systems. This so-called Systems Theory, as applicable to archaeology, was developed in the 1960s and 1970s by Lewis Binford and sought to explain change in cultural systems as an adaptation to external stimuli – often environmental or cultural pressures – and the role of the archaeologist was to establish how cultures responded to those stimuli.

Introduction

Old Kingdom Nile Valley Egyptian colonisers, will be considered.

Binford (1977, 35) stated that ‘organizational variability is one of the major characteristics of cultural variation in general’, and ‘investigation of the organizational [sic] properties of systems and their processual consequences, archaeologically, is the first step towards an accurate attribution of meaning to observed patterning’ (Binford 1977, 35; see also Shott 1986, 16). A stone artefact assemblage is an expression of ‘an internally differentiated subsystem,’ which operates in relation to a wider cultural system, embedded in its natural environmental context (Binford and O’Connell 1984, 428, see also Elston 1990, 153.). It is for this reason that stone tools provide one of the most substantial means of understanding past behaviour and the settlement patterns of prehistoric populations, especially in areas where other cultural remains may be scarce.

Theoretical Approaches Functionalist Approaches to Lithic Analysis Functionalist approaches to lithic analysis incorporate ecological and evolutionary theoretical frameworks, along with palaeo-environmental data, to explore the interrelationships between variables and aspects that affect a society’s structures – whether social, economic or political – and more specifically, the role these entities played in the survival and successes of human societies over space and time (Holdaway and Stern 2007). Born out of theoretical underpinnings developed by Binford (1965; 1962), the functionalist approach sought to adopt Systems Theory as an explanatory model, in order to understand the connection between artefact variability and human behaviour as evident in archaeological assemblages. By visualising human culture as three separate but interlocking ‘systems’ - technology, social organisation and ideology - it was possible to gain insight into the wider cultural system through artefacts that were created as by-products of the system, providing that appropriate questions based upon the data were proposed (Holdaway and Stern 2007, 70). As Binford (1962, 218) stated: “Processual change in one variable can [then] be shown to relate in a predictable and quantifiable way to changes in other variables, the latter changing in turn relative to changes in the structure of the system of the whole”. Any changes to the cultural system were envisioned as adaptations to external stimuli, and thus change was considered an external phenomenon whose impact could be measured through the cultural and

Mut al-Kharab is located in the Dakhleh Oasis, the largest of Egypt’s five oases in the Western Desert, approximately 800km south-west of Cairo. Archaeological evidence suggests that occupation at this site stretches from the early Old Kingdom, including both indigenous (the Sheikh Muftah Cultural Unit) as well as Nile Valley Egyptian habitation, until the Byzantine Period (Hope 2001, 33). Of particular interest here is the nature of the site during the earliest stages of occupation, and a discussion of the theoretical and methodological approaches that may be employed to study the stone tool technology from the earliest known occupation of the site. Adaptations to the constraints imposed by environmental conditions, including subsistence strategy, and possible influences of external cultural stimuli, such as that introduced by the

57

Sarah M. Ricketts systematic responses of the culture under study (Holdaway and Stern 2007, 70).

fact that natural selection and change may have its origins both internally as well as externally.1 The application of BE models to the analysis of stone artefact assemblages in Egypt have had some success, notably recently by Shirai (2013; 2010).

Binford’s approach is perhaps best understood as a critique of traditional approaches to stone tool assemblages, particularly those modelled after Bordes (1961), which sought to describe and assign discrete functional classes to assemblages, and use the frequencies of these classes to infer past behaviour. While the construction of a typology with distinct artefact classes is a useful analytical approach to ease conceptualisation of the data, we should be careful in assuming that modern ‘types’ were inherent in artefact manufacture from the outset (Ford 1954a; 1954b). This debate remains unresolved, but has established that no simple correlation between style and function exists globally, and that the structure of stone tool assemblages are related to other components within the cultural system, highly dependent on context (for a discussion, see Phillips 2006, 45-64). The archaeologist should therefore seek to understand how the technological assemblages of societies are adapted to constraints imposed by cultural systems, including environmental context, subsistence and organisation, the maintenance of social and ritual boundaries, and the properties of their resource base such as predictability, stability and mobility (Shott 1986; Kelly 1983; Torrence 1983; Binford 1980).

Background Recognising the Sheikh Muftah There were three archaeologically distinct cultural groups present in Dakhleh Oasis during the Holocene, which have been defined in terms of their lithics, ceramics, artefacts, site locations and faunal assemblages through the work of the Dakhleh Oasis Project (DOP) [Figure 1]. The earliest of these groups is the Epipalaeolithic Masara Cultural Unit, followed by the Bashendi Cultural Unit. The latest culture in the sequence, the Sheikh Muftah Cultural Unit, is restricted to four accepted radiocarbon dates published by McDonald, which are calibrated to between 3800 – 2900 BCE (McDonald 2002b, 113; 2001, 35; 1996, 35). McDonald (2001, 35) places the Sheikh Muftah in the sixth millennium BP and later, with occupation spanning some 1200 years and dating from the late Predynastic Period roughly until the end of the Old Kingdom within the oasis (Riemer 2011a, 21; Hope 2002, 46; Hope 1999, 221; McDonald 1999). They may also be divided into various sub-divisions over this time, based on distinct ceramic and lithic artefacts (Hope and Pettman 2012; Warfe 2008; Hope 2002; McDonald 2002b). According to Hope (2002, 46), in terms of Nile Valley chronology, the ‘early’ or ‘transitional’ Sheikh Muftah phase is possibly

More recent theoretical approaches of this type have incorporated an evolutionary ecological approach to an understanding of technological organisation, as an extension to original functionalist approaches, drawing heavily from the fields of evolutionary biology (Shirai 2013; Goodale et al. 2011; Shirai 2010; Surovell 2009; Kuhn 1994; Nelson 1991; Parry and Kelly 1987). Fundamentally, archaeologists deal with two sets of phenomena in reconstructing human behaviour in the past: the reconstruction of this behaviour from sets of archaeological data, and taking into account an explanation for it as reconstructed (Bird and O’Connell 2006, 144). Generally speaking behavioural ecology (BE) seeks to create models that aim to investigate information on the selection pressures acting upon a species, and an understanding of the constraints imposed and operating on the ‘adaptive design’ of behaviour (Williams 1966; Holdaway and Stern 2007, 74; Bird and O’Connell 2006, 143). The application of BE models in lithic organisational studies treats behaviours such as acquisition of raw materials, manufacture, discard, use and technological choices as behaviours affected by the process of natural selection, and thus technology as a solution to problems encountered within a particular fitness-related ‘landscape’ (Bird and O’Connell 2006, 144). Although it is true that humans do not always forage ‘optimally’, there is a general trend towards optimality; while it may not always be the determining factor, environmental conditions are undoubtedly a key entity governing cultural adaptation (Shirai 2013, 216). Recently, the incorporation of niche construction theory, which emphasises the capacity of species to modify their environment and hence influencing their own (and others’) evolution, is acknowledging the

Figure 1. Cultural sequence chart after Warfe (Fig 2, 2003).   For a discussion of niche construction theory, see Laland and O’Brien (2010)

58

.

1

Approaches to Lithic Analysis contemporary with the late Badarian to Naqada IIc within the Nile Valley and the ‘late’ Sheikh Muftah phase parallel with Naqada IIc/d to Dynasty VI. Archaeological evidence from stratified contexts of the co-existence and/ or interaction with Nile Valley Egyptians during the Fifth to Sixth Dynasties occur in the Dakhleh region (McDonald 1996, 35), but the site of Mut al-Kharab is perhaps one of the most compelling; ceramic evidence indicating interaction here is much earlier, dateable to the early Old Kingdom or early Dynastic Period (Hope and Pettman 2012, 149).

While a few Sheikh Muftah sites continue to be found in the surrounding desert areas, our knowledge of their relationship to the oasis and of their function within the Sheikh Muftah adaptive pattern remains poor (Jeuthe 2014, 105; Riemer 2011a, 274). To date, these sites have mostly been interpreted as seasonal campsites or short-term occupation camps related to winter rainfall or logistical moves to the peripheries (such as el-Kharafish on the Egyptian Limestone Plateau to the north of Dakhleh), or caches of ceramic Clayton rings, common along the Abu Ballas Trail, of as yet undetermined function (Riemer 2011a, 274-282) [Figure 2]. The possibility that Sheikh Muftah pastoral nomads practiced a type of vertical transhumance over a seasonal cycle, to take advantage of increased pasture fed by winter rains on the edges of the Plateau (the Kharafish), may account for seasonal semi-permanent occupation localities outside of the oasis proper and is a distinct possibility (Jeuthe 2014, 104; Riemer 2011a, 276). The withdrawal of more permanent settlement from the wider desert regions has generally been interpreted as a reflection of the increasing desiccation of the environment, commencing ca. 5300BCE (Riemer 2011a; Kuper and Kröpelin 2006, 806; Fig. 3; Warfe 2003; McDonald et al. 2001; Churcher 1999; McDonald 1999).

The following information, synthesised from the work of McDonald (2002b; 2001; 1999), states that the recognition of Sheikh Muftah archaeological sites is usually done on the basis of artefact scatters, hearths and fire pits. The material culture is dominated by lithic remains, but rich faunal remains and ceramics occur more frequently than in the previous Bashendi B Unit. Grinding equipment is rare, but includes slab fragments, hand-stones and rubbing stones where present (McDonald 1982, 129; 1999, 123; Warfe 2008, 37). Other artefacts include small palettes, axe fragments, a mace-head, bone awls and needles, and beads of carnelian and agate, but these too are rare (McDonald 2002, 112). Ostrich eggshell fragments and beads are present, but not as often as in the Bashendi B Unit (McDonald 2002b, 112; Warfe 2008, 37). The lithic assemblage is a flake-based industry, and generally speaking, is characterized by the use of a fine-grained golden brown tabular chert, which was often heat treated to a deep wine colour. Dark grey nodular chert, the most common raw material exploited by the earlier Bashendi Unit, is also used, but in lesser frequencies. Other raw material classes include quartzite, grey tabular chert, agate, and reworked Middle Stone Age lithics collected from the desert surface (Warfe 2008, 37; McDonald 1999, 122).2 The tool assemblage composition differs from the Bashendi; typical Sheikh Muftah tool classes include scrapers, denticulates, piercers/perforators, notches, and massive ‘scrapers/hoes’ (McDonald 1999, 123). Blades, projectiles points and side-blow flakes, common in Bashendi B assemblages, are rare in Sheikh Muftah contexts (Warfe 2008, 38; McDonald 1999, 123).

Changing Environments In considering a functionalist approach to the lithic assemblage at Mut al-Kharab, a comment on the palaeo-environmental conditions of the Egyptian Western Desert during this time is appropriate. This allows us to consider the interrelationships between environmental and economic variables as potential stimuli on the organization of the Sheikh Muftah technology. During the early Holocene (c. 8500-5000 cal BCE), a ‘humid phase’ of increased rainfall turned the previously hyper-arid Western Desert (during the Pleistocene) into a Savannahlike environment with high annual rainfall, which in turn supported desert vegetation, large fauna, and mobile huntergatherer groups which gradually transitioned into pastorforagers who may have moved their herds among the vast grasslands (Churcher 1999, 148). Beginning ca. 5300 cal BCE, the onset of drier conditions in the Eastern Sahara, and consequently the gradual desertification and desiccation of the savannah, resulted in abandonment of settlement in the wider desert regions (Kuper and Kröpelin 2006). People began to retreat to areas with water supplies, places of ‘refuge’ in an increasingly arid environment (Warfe 2003, 196). The Oases of Dakhleh and Kharga were such places, watered by permanent groundwater supplies charged by the Nubian aquifer, which, as Riemer (2011a, 20) notes, made them less susceptible to climate change. Warfe (2003, 196) notes that Dakhleh is set apart from most other major Western Desert sites during this time, as re-occupation of the oasis was occurring at a time when almost all other contemporary sites are beginning to show possible signs of abandonment. It is the scarcity of dwindling resources and the abandonment of remote refuge areas which provide the background for the late prehistoric Sheikh Muftah cultural sequence at Dakhleh, commencing c. 3800 BCE and spanning some 1200 years (Hope 2002, 45-51; McDonald et al. 2001, 8).

Distribution of Sheikh Muftah Sites Sheikh Muftah occupation appears to have focussed more tightly on the oasis proper than the previous Bashendi (although not exclusively), with nearly all approximately 70 localities identified by the Dakhleh Oasis Project occurring close to water sources, on the edges of prehistoric playa remains, and adjacent to spring mounds or wetlands near the 130m contour (McDonald 2002a; McDonald 1999). McDonald (1999, 129) notes that this represents a Sheikh Muftah ‘relationship to the oasis water table’, with the group potentially under some degree of economic stress.   This has been noted in other Western Desert Holocene assemblages, see also: Riemer (2011b), and McDonald (1991; 2002a).

2

59

Sarah M. Ricketts

Figure 2. Map of Sheikh Muftah localities after Riemer (Fig 1, 2011). Sheikh Muftah Pastoralism

While Sheikh Muftah people appear to be more focussed on the oasis proper, no archaeological evidence yet exists for permanent, long-term settlement sites (McDonald 2002b, 116-118; McDonald et al. 2001, 8; McDonald 1999, 129). All recorded Sheikh Muftah sites to date appear to be temporary campsites, lacking evidence of storage facilities or shelters. As well as this, evidence for seasonal camps and short term stopping points up to 80100km from the oasis depression indicates some degree of mobility, with year-round occupation of the oasis, most likely at its peak during the summer months (Jeuthe 2014, 104; Pöllath 2011, 343-345; Riemer 2011a, 270). While there is evidence at some localities for contact with the Nile Valley and elsewhere, McDonald et al. (2001, 8) state that there is little evidence that they shared in the growing social complexity and state formation processes evident in the neighbouring Nile Valley. The only noticeable change over time is perhaps a trend to somewhat larger sites, such as Locality 105 and 136; however, it is possible that only part of the whole site distribution pattern is actually preserved (McDonald et al. 2001).

Subsistence

Strategies:

Mobile

The general outline of the Sheikh Muftah subsistence strategy, corroborated by evidence from the Dakhleh Oasis Project, is that of ‘pastoral’ nomads who kept cattle and goats primarily for blood, milk and potentially transportation, and who supplemented their diet with limited hunting and perhaps exploitation of wild grasses (McDonald 2002b; McDonald et al. 2001; McDonald 1999). A number of Sheikh Muftah sites have contained faunal remains of domesticated animals; 14 sites contained cattle bones (a combination of Bos taurus and Bos primigenius), with six sites containing ovicaprines (Churcher 1999; McDonald 1999, 124). Horn cores from domesticated goats (Capra hircus) are reported at five Sheikh Muftah localities, and the domesticated ass has been reported at three sites, but it is still unclear whether or not these are representative of domesticated animals or are intrusive (Churcher 1999, 60

Approaches to Lithic Analysis 143). As Churcher and Kleindienst (2006) note, the status of the ass in the Late Neolithic sequence at Dakhleh Oasis remains unclear, due to its status as a potential member of both domesticated and extant wild fauna during that time. The faunal remains of wild animals at Sheikh Muftah sites indicate a limited range of hunting, with identified species including hartebeest (Alecelaphus buselaphus) at 14 sites, gazelles (Gazella dorcas/leptoceros) at 13 sites, grevy zebra (Equus grevyi) at two or three sites, and the Cape buffalo (Syncerus caffer), also in two to three sites (Riemer 2011a; Churcher 1999; McDonald 1999).

environmental conditions. As people required a more predictable food source when other wild game and plant species were not guaranteed, they tended to domesticated herds which could act as ‘walking larders’ in times of economic hardship (Warfe 2008, 61-62). The Sheikh Muftah subsistence strategy has been suggested by Riemer (Riemer 2011b, 274-288) to encompass 4 ‘zones’ of activity, which predominantly focused on oasis resources (1) and seasonal trips to areas watered by winter rains (most likely to exploit grasslands for pasture and/or hunting) (2). Deeper forays into the desert were less frequent, and usually for specific tasks (3), perhaps requiring pack animals (4) [Figure 3].

Churcher (1999, 136) has noted that the faunal remains at Sheikh Muftah localities in Dakhleh are usually highly fragmented, with bone fragments measuring less than 100mm at their greatest dimension, allowing exposure of internal marrow cavities. He also highlights the significance of these measurements as corresponding to the typical measurements for Sheikh Muftah ceramic cooking vessels (250-350mm in diameter, 400mm high) (Churcher 1999, 136), although the implications of marrow extraction as a stress indicator - in that it allows for the greatest exploitation of all potential nutrients – should not be discounted here.

Low Level Food Producers? By adopting a type of nomadic-pastoralism, the Sheikh Muftah people may have used mobility as a socio-economic solution to managing the risks of the unpredictable environment of the eastern Sahara during the mid to late Holocene. Holdaway et. al (2010) note that the degree of sedentism found elsewhere during the Holocene, such as the Levant, was not viable in an environment with such oscillations in aridity. This ‘middle-ground’, between highly mobile hunter-gatherer subsistence and fully sedentary agriculturalist can be conceptualised as a successful, long-term socio-economic solution in its particular environmental context. Smith (2001), labels these people as ‘low-level food producers’, and places them in the metaphorical ‘no-man’s land’ between the plateau of ‘hunter-gatherer’ and ‘agriculturalist’

.

In a variable and unpredictable environment, mobility may be conceptualized as a socio-economic solution to deal with an often changeable resource base. Consequently, it has been also been suggested by Marshall and Hildebrand (2002) that the practice of pastoralism, especially in the eastern Sahara, was a response to the fluctuating

Figure 3. Subsistence, settlement pattern and mobility of the Sheikh Muftah Cultural Unit in Dakhleh and the surrounding desert zones after Riemer (Fig 283, 2011). 61

Sarah M. Ricketts Methodology

1990c; 1990a; 1983; 1982; 1981; 1980), Tixier’s work for the Epipalaeolithic Maghreb (1963), Riemer’s work for el-Kharafish (2011b; 2011a) and Holmes’ work on the Egyptian Predynastic (1989). Through an understanding of how tools were manufactured, it may be possible to begin postulating on why they were made.

Technological Analysis With these theoretical tenets in mind, it is useful to move the discussion towards an understanding of how an application of functionalist theory may be incorporated into the analysis of an artefact assemblage. It has been stated that, with an understanding of artefacts as products of a dynamic system of behaviour, archaeologists must begin to investigate the processes involved in the manufacture of the artefacts themselves, including an understanding of the distinct manufacturing techniques applied during the production of lithic artefacts (Yerkes and Kardulias 1993, 90). As Phagan (1976) noted, archaeologists should determine what technological variability may have stylistic or functional significance, rather than what kind of variability may be stylistic, functional or technological (see also Yerkes and Kardulias 1993, 91).

Results Expectations In these early stages, it is expected that the technological organisation of the lithic assemblage at Mut al-Kharab should reflect the constraints imposed by a pastoral economy, and be reflective of other variables such as access to raw materials, primary site function, seasonality, and social interaction from external Nile Valley Egyptian culture over time. The tools themselves are expected to reflect the nature of the Mut al-Kharab occupation site, located close to a water source and within ‘zone 1’ of Riemer’s (2011a) suggested mobility zones, and follow the opportunistic production typically noted in other Sheikh Muftah assemblages (see also McDonald et al. 2001, 7). Reimer (2011a, 276) notes that it appears that the majority of occupation localities found within the oasis (zone 1) are characterized by a higher frequency of domesticated faunal remains, higher densities of domestic pottery vessels, large areas of densely scattered and varied artefacts, and the presence of large hearth mounds and fire pits. The sites show a greater variation in settings and features, artefacts, bones and landscape positions, when compared to sites in other zones, and may support the notion that these are ‘base camps’ of the Sheikh Muftah, which were repeatedly occupied over time but do not represent sedentary dwellings (Riemer 2011a, 276; McDonald 2002b, 118). In relation to the stone artefact assemblage, Riemer notes that a larger quantity and variety of tools and tool forms, and greater densities of debitage and knapping debris, is to be expected at sites within the oasis, as opposed to those in different ‘zones’ (Riemer 2011a, 277). The tool assemblage may contain a range of typical Sheikh Muftah tool types that may show evidence of cultural influence, or ‘imitation’, much like the Old Kingdom ceramic material over time (Hope and Pettman 2012, 151). These typical tools, common in other oasis sites, include scrapers, denticulates, notches, and simple piercers/perforators, all made in an opportunistic manner.

The technological approach, which became an extension of Binford and Yellen’s ethno-archaeological projects of the 1970s, sought to understand the connection between cultural behaviour and material culture, specifically in the lithic record (Binford 1980; 1977; 1978; Yellen 1977). As such, the technological approach involves the study of knapped stone industries through identifiable elements, such as tools, raw materials, physical actions, and human agency (Inizan et al. 1999, 15). Such an approach attempts to go beyond that of typological classification, and obtain deeper and more complex understanding of the social implications and significance of the techniques used in the past (Soressi and Geneste 2011, 336). Technological analysis must identify the differences between various deterministic constraints, in order to identify what constitutes cultural choices. While undertaking a lithic study, analysis occurs on two levels: the first is that of observation, which is the initial reading of knapping scars, and the second is that of inference, where the interpretation of artefacts in relation to their place in the chaine operatoire is considered (Inizan et al. 1999, 13-16).3 Morphological attributes measured during the initial field season included basic measurements of weight, thickness and width for all tool and debitage classes, as well as differentiation of raw material classes using Minimum Analytical Nodule (MAN) Analysis, based on macro variations of colour, texture, banding, and lustre on an almost exclusive chert-based assemblage (Larson and Kornfield 1997).4 Artefacts were separated into technological categories which included cores, flakes, blades, angular fragments (‘chunks’), chips and tools. While no detailed lithic classification system exists for the Sheikh Muftah context, technological categories were attempted and based on a number of works and characteristics, including McDonald (2002a; 1991; 1990b;

Particular anomalies in the technological industry, such as the manufacture of regular blades, may indicate strong Old Kingdom influence. Since Dynasty I, the industry of the Nile Valley had been generally based on a regular blade and bladelet industry heavily influenced by the Levant, and spread to Upper Egypt via the Predynastic Lower Egyptian culture of the Delta (Bard 1999, 313). This industry was developed through craft specialisation, with regular blades being produced and made into tools in Upper and Lower Egypt by specialists from at least Dynasty I (Bard 1999,

  For a theoretical discussion on the epistemology of chaine operatoire, refer to Soressi and Geneste (2011). 4   For information regarding known raw material sources for Dakhleh, please see Kleindienst (1999). 3

62

Approaches to Lithic Analysis 311). The presence of blade technology, and artefact classes such as sickle blades and knives on regular blade blanks are rare to absent in Early Sheikh Muftah assemblages (McDonald 2002, 110), and their presence therefore may indicate the exchange of cultural and technological knowledge from Old Kingdom Egyptians settling in the Dakhleh Oasis.5 The treatment and reduction of particular classes of raw material may also indicate to some extent the level of mobility practiced by the occupants of the site. As Elston (1990, 153) notes, key aspects of hunter-gatherer and/or pastoralist lithic assemblages are relationships involving mobility, site function, and the distribution of varying site types across a landscape (such as procurement of economic resources such as food and viable raw material for tool manufacture). At a fundamental level, mobility affects the cost and utility of lithic raw material by regulating the supply and demand of the resource. It is for this reason that differential treatment of raw materials in the chaine operatoire at Mut al-Kharab may reflect differing access to these raw materials, and could be suggestive of a particular mobility strategy.

Figure 4. Dihedral burin.

Preliminary Results: Tools Preliminary observations suggest an assemblage that comes late in the Sheikh Muftah sequence, and which contains many tool types that may be attributed to, or at least influenced by, Old Kingdom Egyptian technology. A dihedral burin manufactured on a blade most likely originates from Old Kingdom technological knowledge [Figure 4] (Midant-Reynes 1998, 25).6 Sickle elements, some with polish, are included, manufactured on both caramel and grey chert [Figure 5], as well as an Old Kingdom style rectangle similar to those excavated from the sites of Ayn al-Gazzareen and ‘Ayn Asil [Figure 6] (Kobusiewicz 2003; Midant-Reynes 1998, pl. 26). If we turn our attention to the relative frequencies of these tool types, we see an assemblage dominated by scrapers, notches, piercers and combination tools. These are not standardised and appear as part of an ad hoc flaked tool industry. The most dominant tool type by far is scrapers, which constitute 40% of the tool assemblage. This includes variations of side (racloirs), circular (circulaire) and endscrapers (grattoirs), and includes scraping tools manufactured directly on large nodules with cortex, classified here as ‘massive scrapers’ [Figure 7]. This is not surprising, as scrapers tend to feature in relatively high frequencies on most oasis assemblages, including at Ayn Asil where they are responsible for 51% of the

Figure 5. Sickle element. tools (Midant-Reynes 1998), and el-Kharafish where they constitute 55.6%. (Riemer 2011b, 717). The following tool types, in descending order of frequency, are notches (12.9%), piercers (11.4%), and combination tools (8.6%). Lithics of Middle Stone Age date, including one large flake with fresh retouch, are also included, purposefully collected from the desert floor and relocated for adaptive reuse 7[Figure 8].

  Whether or not sickle elements are an exclusive Old Kingdom technological trait is still unknown; however, it is more likely that workshop-produced artefacts originate from Old Kingdom contexts, or at least were created through Old Kingdom influence (see Jeuthe 2014). For a discussion of plant harvesting techniques in Neolithic Egypt based on Western Desert lithic assemblages, see Lucarini (2005). 6   Even at ‘Ayn-Asil, burins are rare and constitute only one artefact from the assemblage: a multi-faceted burin manufactured on a regular blade (Midant-Reynes, Pl. 15.1). 5

  See footnote 1.

7

63

Sarah M. Ricketts

Figure 6. Old Kingdom style rectangle.

Figure 8. Retouched Middle Stone Age (MSA) blade.

macro-analytical methods amongst the tool assemblage. These include the ‘caramel’-yellow tabular chert, grey chert which appears to be mostly nodular, brown chert with occasional banding, chert that is deep purple in colour and is most likely heat-treated,8 a smooth textured whitish chert with shades of grey, nodular caramel chert with greys shades, and Middle Stone Age artefacts that have in one instance been re-worked. A summary of preliminary tool classes and raw material frequencies are presented in Table 1. Concluding Remarks Figure 7. ‘Massive’ scraper on chert nodule with cortex.

A stone artefact assemblage is a manifestation of ‘an internally differentiated subsystem’, which operates within the context of a cultural system and its natural environment (Binford and O’Connell 1984, 42; see also Elston 1990, 153). It provides some of the most significant evidence towards an understanding of past human behaviour, as previous studies and ethnographical evidence have established the relationship that exists between elements and complexity of technology, the permanency of settlement, and other components within

These tool types appear exclusively on varying colours and quality of chert, with occasional pieces of quartzitic sandstone and re-used Middle Stone Age artefacts. Differentiation of raw materials amongst the Mut alKharab assemblage was undertaken using Minimum Analytical Nodule (MAN) Analysis, based on macro variations of colour, texture, banding, and lustre (Larson and Kornfield 1997). Both nodular and tabular forms of chert were exploited at Mut al-Kharab for tool manufacture. Thus far there have 6 different types of chert that have been identified through

8   Purposefully heat-treated chert, which takes on a ‘deep wine colour’, has been noted by McDonald (1999, 112) as ‘distinctive’ of the Sheikh Muftah. For a discussion of the potential problems recognising heat treatment at Ayn-Asil, see Midant-Reynes (1998, 37).

64

Approaches to Lithic Analysis Tool Class Burin Combination Denticulate Drill Hooked Piece Knife Notch Piercer Projectile Point Rectangle Scraper Sickle Utilised Flake TOTAL

% Frequency 2.9 8.6 2.9 4.3 1.4 2.9 12.9 11.4 1.4 1.4 40 7.1 2.9 100

Raw Material Caramel Brown Grey Heat-Treated White MSA Caramel/Grey

% Frequency 39.4 9.9 14.1 23.9 5.6 2.8 4.2

TOTAL

100

Table 1. Summary of preliminary tool classes and raw material frequencies (%) for Mut al-Kharab. a cultural system (Holdaway and Stern 2007). Through an application of a technological approach to understanding the stone artefact assemblage from Mut al-Kharab, it is hoped that the nature of the relationships that govern the Sheikh Muftah Cultural Unit’s organization of their stone tool technology may begin to be understood, including subsistence strategy, external cultural interaction and environmental management.

Bordes, F. 1961. ‘Typologie du paléolithique, ancien et moyen’, L’Institut de Préhistoire de l’Université de Bourdeaux, Memoire 1, Bordeaux, France. Churcher, C. S. 1999. ‘Holocene Faunas of the Dakhleh Oasis’, in C. S. Churcher, & A. J. Mills, (eds) Reports from the Survey of the Dakhleh Oasis: 1977-1987, Oxbow Books, Oxford. Churcher, C. S. & M. R. Kleindienst, 2006. ‘A Pre-Dynastic Ass (Equus asinus) from the Sheikh Muftah Cultural Horizon of the Dakhleh Oasis, Western Desert, Egypt’, Archaeology of Early Northeastern Africa 9: In Memory of Lech Krzyżaniak, Ponzan Archaeological Museum, Poznan. Elston, R. G. 1990. ‘A Cost-Benefit Model of Lithic Assemblage Variability’, in R. G. Elston & E. E. Budy (eds), University of Utah Anthropological Papers: The Archaeology of James Creek Shelter, University of Utah Press, Utah. Ford, J. A. 1954a. ‘Comment on A.C Spaulding, “Statistical Techniques for the Discovery of Artefact Types’, American Antiquity 43, 86-89. Ford, J. A. 1954b. ‘The Type Concept Revisited’, American Anthropologist 56, 42-54. Goodale, N., Jones, G. T. & Beck, C. 2011. ‘Natural Selection and Material Culture’, Evolution: Education and Outreach 4, 427-434. Holdaway, S. & Stern, N. 2007. A Record in Stone: The Study of Australia’s Flaked Stone Artefacts, Museum Victoria and Aboriginal Studies Press, Melbourne. Holdaway, S., W. Wendrich, & R. Phillips, 2010. ‘Identifying low-level food producers: detecting mobility from lithics’, Antiquity 84, 185-194. Holmes, D. 1989. The Predynastic Lithic Industries of Upper Egypt: A Comparative Study of the Lithic Traditions of Badari, Nagada and Hierkakonpolis, BAR, Oxford.

References Bard, K. 1999. ‘Neolithic and Predynastic Stone Tools’, in Shubert, S. B. (ed.) Encyclopedia of the Archaeology of Ancient Egypt, Routledge, New York. Binford, L. 1962. ‘Archaeology as Anthropology’, American Antiquit, 28, 217-225. Binford, L. 1965. ‘Archaeological Systematics and the Study of Culture Processes’, American Antiquity 31, 203-210. Binford, L. 1977. ‘Forty-seven Trips: A Case Study in the Character of Archaeological Formation Processes’, in R. V. S. Wright, (ed.) Stone Tools as Cultural Markers: Change, Evolution and Complexity, Humanities Press, Atlantic Highlands, N.J. Binford, L. 1978. Nunamiut Ethnoarchaeology, Academic Press, New York. Binford, L. 1980. ‘Willow Smoke and Dog’s Tails: HunterGatherer Settlement Systems and Archaeological Site Formation’, American Antiquity 45, 4-20. Binford, L. & O‘Connell, J. F. 1984. ‘An Alyawara Day: The Stone Quarry’, Journal of Anthropological Research 40, 406-432. Bird, D. W. & O’Connell, J. F. 2006. ‘Behavioural Ecology and Archaeology’, Journal of Archaeological Research 14, 143-188.

65

Sarah M. Ricketts the Dakhleh Oasis’, Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 11, 225-231. McDonald, M. M. A. 1982. ‘Dakhleh Oasis Project: Third Preliminary Report on the Lithic Industries in the Dakhleh Oasis’, Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 12, 115-138. McDonald, M. M. A. 1983. ‘Dakhleh Oasis Project: Fourth Preliminary Report on the Lithic Industries in the Dakhleh Oasis’, Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 13. McDonald, M. M. A. 1990a. ‘The Dakhleh Oasis Project: Holocene Prehistory: Interim Report for the 1991 Season’, Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 20, 65-76. McDonald, M. M. A. 1990b. ‘The Dakhleh Oasis Project: Holocene Prehistory: Interim Report on the 1988 and 1989 Seasons’, Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 20, 24-53. McDonald, M. M. A. 1990c. ‘The Dakhleh Oasis Project: Holocene Prehistory: Interim Report on the 1990 Season’, Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 20, 54-64. McDonald, M. M. A. 1991. ‘Systematic Reworking of Lithics from Earlier Cultures in the Early Holocene of Dakhleh Oasis, Egypt’, Journal of Field Archaeology 18, 269-273. McDonald, M. M. A. 1996. ‘Relations between Dakhleh Oasis and the Nile Valley in the Mid-Holocene: a discussion’, in L. Krzyzaniak, K. Kroeper, & M. Kobusiewicz, (eds) Interregional Contacts in the Later Prehistory of Northeastern Africa: Studies in African Archaeology, Poznan Archaeological Museum, Poznan. McDonald, M. M. A. 1999. ‘Neolithic Cultural Units and Adaptations in the Dakhleh Oasis’, in C. S. Churcher, & A. J. Mills, (eds) Reports from the Survey of the Dakhleh Oasis 1977-1987, Oxbow Books, Oxford. McDonald, M. M. A. 2001. ‘The Late Prehistoric Radiocarbon Chronology for Dakhleh Oasis’, in C. A. Marlow & A. J. Mills, (eds) The Oasis Papers 1: The Proceedings of the First Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, Oxbow Books, Oxford. McDonald, M. M. A. 2002a. ‘Appendix: The Chipped Stone from Nepthys Hill, Locality 386’, in R. Friedman (ed), Egypt and Nubia. Gifts of the Desert, British Museum Press, London. McDonald, M. M. A. 2002b. ‘Dakhleh Oasis in Predynastic and Early Dynastic Times: Bashendi B and the Sheikh Muftah Cultural Units’ Archéo-Nil 12, 109-120. McDonald, M. M. A., C. S.Churcher, U. Thanheiser, J. Thompson, I. Teubner & A. R. Warfe, 2001. ‘The midHolocene Sheikh Muftah Cultural Unit of Dakhleh Oasis, South Central Egypt: A Preliminary Report on Recent Fieldwork’, Nyame Akuma 56, 4-9. Midant-Reynes, B. 1998. Le Silex de ‘Ayn-Asil, Oasis de Dakhla-Balat, Institut Francais d’Archeologie Orientale, Cairo.

Hope, C. A. 1999. ‘Pottery Manufacture in the Dakhleh Oasis’, in A. J. Mills & C. S. Churcher, (eds) Reports from the Survey of the Dakhleh Oasis 1977-1987, Oxbow Books, Oxford. Hope, C. A. 2002. ‘Early and Mid-Holocene Ceramics from the Dakhleh Oasis: Traditions and Influences’, in R. Friedman (ed.), Egypt and Nubia: Gifts of the Desert, British Museum Press, London. Hope, C. A. & A. J. Pettman, 2012. ‘Egyptian Connections with Dakhleh Oasis in the Early Dynastic to Dynasty IV: New data from Mut al-Kharab’, in R. S.Bagnall, P. Davoli, & C. A. Hope (eds), The Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, Oxbow Books Oxford. Inizan, M. L., M. Reduron-Ballinger, H. Roche, & J. Tixier, 1999. Technology and Terminology of Knapped Stone, CREP, Nanterre. Jeuthe, C. 2014. ‘Initial Results: The Sheikh Muftah Occupation at Balat North/1 (Dakhla Oasis)’, ArcheoNil 24, 103-114. Kelly, R. L. 1983. ‘Hunter-Gatherer Mobility Strategies’, Journal of Anthropological Research 39, 227-306. Kleindienst, M. R. 1999. ‘Pleistocene Archaeology and Geoarchaeology of the Dakhleh Oasis: a status report’, in A. J. Mills & C. S. Churcher (eds), Reports from the Survey of the Dakhleh Oasis 1977-1987, Oxbow Books, Oxford. Kobusiewicz, M. 2003. ‘Study of the Old Kingdom Flint Assemblage from ‘Ain el-Gazzareen, 32/390-K2-2, Mushiya, Dakhleh Oasis, Egypt’ in A. J. Mills (ed), The Field Activities of the Dakhleh Oasis Project During the 2002-2003 Field Season. Kuhn, S. 1994. ‘A Formal Approach to the Design and Assembly of Mobile Toolkits’, American Antiquity 59, 426-442. Kuper, R. & S. Kröpelin, 2006. ‘Climate-Controlled Holocene Occupation in the Sahara: Motor of Africa’s Evolution’, Science 313, 803-807. Laland, K. N. & M. J. O‘Brien, 2010. ‘Niche Construction Theory and Archaeology’, Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 17, 303-322. Larson, M. L. & M. Kornfield, 1997. ‘Chipped Stone Nodules: Theory, Method and Examples’, Lithic Technology 22, 4-18. Lucarini, G. 2005. ‘Harvesting Techniques in Late Neolithic and Predynastic Egypt - Contributions from Experimental Archaeology and Ethnography’, in B. Midant-Reynes & Y. Tristant (eds), Egypt at its Origins 2: Origins of the State. Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt, Uitgeverij Peeters, Toulouse. Marshall, F. & E. Hildebrand, 2002. ‘Cattle Before Crops: The Beginnings of Food Production in Africa’, Journal of World Prehistory 16, 99-143. McDonald, M. M. A. 1980. ‘Preliminary Report on Lithic Industries in the Dakhleh Oasis’, Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 10, 315-327. McDonald, M. M. A. 1981. ‘Dakhleh Oasis Project: Second Preliminary Report on the Lithic Industries in

66

Approaches to Lithic Analysis Holocene’, in N. Shirai (ed), Studies in Early Near Eastern Production, Subsistence, and Environment 16 . Shott, M. 1986. ‘Technological Organization and Settlement Mobility: An Ethnographic Examination’, Journal of Anthropological Research 42, 15-51. Smith, B. 2001. ‘Low-Level Food Production’, Journal of Archaeological Research 9, 1-43. Soressi, M. & Geneste, J.-M. 2011. ‘Special Issue: Reduction Sequence, Chaine Operatoire, and Other Methods: The Epistemologies of Different Approaches to Lithic Analysis’, PaleoAnthropology, 334-350. Surovell, T. A. 2009. Toward a Behavioural Ecology of Lithic Technology: Cases from Paleoindian Archaeology, University of Arizona Press, Arizona. Tixier, J. 1963. Typologie de L’Epipaleolithique du Maghreb, Arts et Metiers Graphiques, Paris. Torrence, R. 1983. ‘Time Budgeting and Hunter-Gatherer Technology’, in G. Bailey (ed), Hunter-Gatherer Economy in Prehistory: A European Perspective,, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Warfe, A. R. 2003. ‘Cultural Origins of the Egyptian Neolithic and Predynastic: An Evaluation of the Evidence from Dakhleh Oasis (South Central Egypt)’, The African Archaeological Review 20, 175-202. Warfe, A. R. 2008. The Study of the Pottery Remains from Early and Mid-Holocene Sites in Dakhleh Oasis, Egypt, unpublished PhD thesis, Monash University. Williams, G. C. 1966. Adaptation and Natural Selection: A Critique of Some Current Evolutionary Thought, Princeton University Press, Princeton. Yellen, J. E. 1977. Archaeological Approaches to the Present, Academic Press, New York. Yerkes, R. W. & Kardulias, N. P. 1993. ‘Recent Developments in the Analysis of Lithic Artefacts’, Journal of Archaeological Research 1, 89-119.

Nelson, M. C. 1991. ‘The Study of Technological Change’, in M. B. Schiffer (ed), Archaeological Method and Theory, University of Arizona Press, Tuscon. Parry, W. J. & Kelly, R. L. 1987. ‘Expedient core technology and sedentism’, in J. K. Johnson & C. A. Morrow (eds), The organization of core technology, Westview Press, Boulder. Phagan, C. J. 1976. A Method for the Analysis of Flakes in Archaeological Assemblages: A Peruvian Example, unpublished PhD thesis, Ohio State University. Phillips, R. 2006. ‘Neolithic Surface Stone Artefact Assemblages from the Fayum, Egypt’. Unpublished MA thesis, University of Auckland. Pöllath, N. 2011. ‘Hunting and Fowling at El Kharafish’, in H. Riemer (ed.), El Kharafish: The Archaeology of Sheikh Muftah Pastoral Nomads in the Desert around Dakhleh Oasis (Egypt), Heinrich-Barth-Institut, Köln. Riemer, H. 2011a. El Kharafish: The Archaeology of Sheikh Muftah Pastoral Nomads in the Desert Around Dakhleh Oasis (Egypt), Heinrich-Barth-Institut, Köln. Riemer, H. 2011b. ‘The Lithic Material from the Sheikh Muftah Desert Camp Site El Kharafish 02/5, Western Desert of Egypt’, in R. Friedman & P. N. Fiske (eds), Egypt at its Origins 3: Proceedings of the Third International Conference “Origin of the State. Predynastic and Early Dynastic Egypt”, Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta, London. Shirai, N. 2010. The Archaeology of the First FarmerHerders in Egypt: New Insights into the Fayum Epipalaeolithic and Neolithic, Leiden University Press, Leiden. Shirai, N. 2013. ‘Was Neolithisation a struggle for existence and the survival of the fittest, or merely the survival of the luckiest? A case study of socioeconomic and cultural changes in Egypt in the Early-Middle

67

Distribution and Trade

From Nubia to the Levant: The Distribution of Predynastic Egyptian Decorated Ware in Space and Time Jessica Cox Abstract This paper is based on research regarding the production and distribution of the iconic Upper Egyptian Decorated Ware (D-Ware), produced between c. 3600 and 3100 BCE in the hope that this may shed some light on the socio-economic atmosphere of Egypt prior to unification. The nature and extent of Predynastic Egyptian craft specialisation and socio-economic interaction between different sites throughout Upper, Middle and Lower Egypt is not yet properly understood. To date, there has been no study that takes into account the entire corpus of D-Ware vessels and sherds and due to the unique nature of the decoration, it may be possible to isolate potential centres of manufacture from a detailed distribution analysis. This paper will present preliminary results regarding the spatial and temporal distribution of both D-Ware vessels and sherds throughout the late Predynastic period.

Introduction

and prior to the unification of Egypt at the end of the Protodynastic Period. If it is possible to determine centres of production and trade networks, then this could provide vital information on the nature of interaction between key sites during the state formation process. This paper will present preliminary results regarding the spatial and temporal distribution of both D-Ware vessels and sherds throughout the late Predynastic period in the first step towards determining possible centres of manufacture.

Decorated Ware (henceforth referred to as D-Ware) is one of the most iconic artefact classes of Predynastic Egypt with vessels being produced over a 500 year period, from the Naqada IIA to IIIB period (c. 3600 to 3100 BCE). Made from pale marl clay and decorated with a dull red pigment, likely to be made from ochre (Wengrow 2006, 93), painted designs on the vessels differ widely, ranging from simple geometric patterns (wavy lines, spirals, spots) to more elaborate scenes featuring boats, animals and anthropomorphs.1 Bourriau et al (2000, 124-125) notes that marl clay needs to be fired at a very high temperature and would thus have required closed kilns. To date, no such kilns dating to the Predynastic period have been found (Wengrow 2006, 93). As such, it is not known where these vessels were produced.

Since this study is concerned with analysing distribution patterns, only vessels and sherds with known provenance have been included. It should also be noted that the corpus derives largely from published material: excavation reports, museum collections and previous studies on D-Ware vessels. Thus, a caveat must be placed on the following results which acknowledge the possibility that there are more examples that have yet to be published. In addition, the vast majority of the vessels and sherds come from cemetery contexts, reflecting the history of excavations; D-Ware is also known from settlement contexts but these are rare, with only a relatively small number of Predynastic settlement sites, particularly in Upper Egypt, having been excavated to date.2 It is hoped that once this study is complete, any further discoveries can be incorporated into the existing catalogue and analysed accordingly. To date, a total of 718 provenanced vessels have been identified, of which 705 have useable images, as well as 184 decorated sherds.

Despite being extensively researched, D-Ware has yet to be the subject of an extensive formal analysis. The largest corpus of the material to date is Petrie’s (1921) Corpus of Prehistoric Pottery and Palettes, which has not been updated despite almost a century of excavations since Petrie’s day. Graff (2009) has recently undertaken a large scale analysis of the vessels decorated with figurative motifs but there are no studies that focus upon the more common geometric designs. Due to the varied nature of the decoration, it may be possible to isolate potential centres of manufacture from a detailed distribution analysis. The study of distribution is absolutely essential in any study focusing upon craft specialisation in prehistoric societies as it is the first step in determining the nature and extent of economic interaction between different sites (Renfrew & Bahn 2004, 374). Furthermore, these vessels were produced at a crucial phase of Egyptian history, through the developing stages of the state formation process

The Chronology of D-Ware In terms of dating the vessels and sherds, there is no comprehensive study that deals specifically with the chronology of D-ware. Petrie (1921) included sequence dates with many of his line drawings and Payne (1990) produced a short article on D-Ware chronology but it is limited in its scope, with the data coming solely from the Great Cemetery at Naqada. Despite this, it remains a useful starting point for developing a basic chronology. The most

  It should be noted that this paper is not concerned with decoration or iconography; the distribution of motifs is part of my wider study on D-Ware. This paper is focusing upon the general geographic distribution of vessels and sherds only. For studies specifically dealing with iconography see, for example, Graff (2009; 2013), Hendrickx (2011) and Patch (2011).

1

  For a list of excavated Predynastic settlement sites see Hendrickx and van den Brink (2002, 370-383).

2

71

Jessica Cox comprehensive study of D-ware has been undertaken by Hendrickx (1989, 79-82; 1996; 2006) as part of his wider study on Predynastic chronology. As such, for the sake of consistency, the dates assigned to the vessels in this study are based on the work of Hendrickx (1989; 1996; 2006).

with 72.6% of the entire corpus dating to this time, a vast increase compared to the preceding Naqada IIA-IIB phase and the succeeding Naqada IIIA-IIIB period.

Before undertaking a chronological analysis of the vessels, it is necessary to classify them according to the original type numbers assigned to the vessels by Petrie (1921). The reason for this is that all subsequent studies of Predynastic chronology and archaeological reports have relied on using this classification system, making it initially necessary to organise the vessels accordingly. Once a systematic analysis of the vessels is completed, it may be possible to present a new classification system based upon the morphology and decoration of the vessels and from there, an updated chronology. It should be noted here that this initial dating process extends to whole vessels only; once the motif types have been analysed and classified, an attempt will be made to date as many of the D-Ware sherds as possible.

A total of 27 vessels have been dated to the Naqada IIA to IIB period, the earliest phase of production, constituting only 3.8% of the overall corpus. At this early stage, the vessels are mostly restricted to Upper Egyptian contexts (n=22; 81.5%) but there are small numbers of vessels that were found in Middle Egypt (n=4; 14.8%) and Nubia (n=1; 3.7%), indicating that they were widely distributed from the beginning.

Naqada IIA to IIB

It was possible to date all of the Naqada IIA to IIB vessels into their individual sub-phases. Only six vessels date to the Naqada IIA period, with the remaining 21 vessels belonging the succeeding Naqada IIB phase. This demonstrates that there was a slight increase in the D-Ware industry at this time, which may be due to the phasing out of the earlier decorated pottery class (white cross-lined or ‘C’ ware) by the end of the Naqada IIA period (Hendrickx 2006, 76).

For the purposes of this preliminary analysis, the vessels were separated and discussed in relation to the three key chronological phases of D-Ware production: Naqada IIAIIB (c.3600-3400 BCE), Naqada IIC-IID (c.3400-3200 BCE) and Naqada IIIA-IIIB (c.3200-3100 BCE). The main reasons for this is that it is not always possible to date a vessel to an individual sub-phase using the existing chronological systems and many vessels types continued to be produced over multiple sub phases (Hendrickx 2006). If it is possible to place the vessels into individual phases (i.e. Naqada IIB, IIC, etc.) then this is also be discussed. The dates of the 705 whole vessels are presented in Graph 1.

In terms of where the vessels were found, the Naqada IIA examples all come from Upper Egyptian contexts at the sites of Naqada (n=5) and Abadiya (n=1). The Naqada IIB vessels, on the other hand, were found at 11 different sites, throughout Upper Egypt (Abadiya, Abydos, Armant, el-Amra, Hierakonpolis, Kubaniya, Naqada), in Middle Egypt (Badari, Hammamiya, Mostagedda), and as far south as Lower Nubia (Qushtamna). This conforms to the idea that the D-ware industry originated in the south and gradually expanded throughout Upper Egypt and beyond by the end of the Naqada IIB period.

As is clear, the vast majority of vessels fall within the three chronological phases: the Naqada IIA-IIB (n=27), Naqada IIC-IID (n=512) and Naqada IIIA-IIIB (n=145), with only a small number that belong to less discernible time periods (n=6) or were of an unknown date (n=12). Three vessels have been dated by Hendrickx (1989) to the Naqada IC period, which predates the beginning of D-Ware production but they will be included here as they were classified by Petrie (1921) as belonging to the Decorated class. In terms of trends, it is clear from these figures that D-Ware production peaked in the Naqada IIC-IID period,

Naqada IIC to IID The vast majority of D-Ware vessels (n=512) belong to the Naqada IIC to IID period, constituting 72.6% of the dateable corpus. Like the preceding Naqada IIB period, there is a large increase in the number of sites where D-Ware is found. Again, the majority of the vessels come from Upper Egypt (n=388; 75.8%), with increasing numbers found in Middle Egypt (n=78; 15.2%), Lower Egypt (n=33; 6.4%) and Lower Nubia (n=13; 2.5%). There is also an increase in the number of sites at which the vessels have been found: 26 in Upper Egypt, six in Middle Egypt, five in Lower Egypt and six in Nubia indicating that distribution continues to substantially increase throughout the Naqada II period. Attempts were made to place the vessels into individual sub-phases but unlike the preceding period, this was only possible with approximately half of the vessels. Accordingly, 131 (25.6%) belonging to the Naqada IIC period and 145 (28.3%) date to the Naqada IID period. The remaining 236 vessels (46.1%) were unable to be separated into distinct phases. Again, this is due to the

Graph 1: The Chronology of D-Ware Vessels

72

From Nubia to the Levant continued use of specific motif styles over a long period of time, which makes it difficult to differentiate distinct changes in the assemblage from the Naqada IIC period to the Naqada IID period at this stage.

or IID specifically. It is these 236 vessels (33.5% of the total corpus) that show the growth in distribution during this phase of the Predynastic, both in terms of the quantity of vessels and the number of sites at which they have been found. Again, most of the vessels were found in Upper Egypt (n=158; 66.9%) but there were also relatively high (compared to other periods) numbers of vessels found in Middle Egypt (n=45; 19.1%), Lower Egypt (n=26; 11.0%) and in Nubia (n=7; 3.0%). There is also an increase in the number of sites at which the vessels were found: 22 in Upper Egypt,5 six in Middle Egypt (Badari, Hammamiya, Matmar, Mostagedda, Qau, Zawiet el-Maietin), four in Lower Egypt (Abusir el-Meleq, Gerzeh, Minshat Abu Omar, Tamit) and six in Nubia (Dakka, Mediq, Missiminia, Qushtamna, Risqalla, Shem Nishai). It is clear that there is a marked increase in number of vessels produced after the Naqada IIB period, but it remains unclear if this growth occurred in the Naqada IIC or IID period.

Naqada IIC As already mentioned, there are 131 vessels (18.6% of the entire corpus) that fall within the Naqada IIC period, which is a considerable increase from the Naqada IIB period. Unsurprisingly, the majority of the vessels were found in Upper Egypt (n=109; 83.2%) though a small number of vessels were also found in Middle Egypt (n=13; 9.9%), Lower Egypt (n=5; 3.8%) and Nubia (n=4; 3.1%). There is only a minor increase in the number of vessels found outside of Upper Egypt when compared to the Naqada IIB period, which suggests that their distribution remains somewhat limited at this time. There is likewise little increase in the number of sites where vessels were found outside of Upper Egypt: five in Middle Egypt (Badari, Hammamiya, Matmar, Mostagedda, Zawiet el-Maietin), three in Lower Egypt (Gerzeh, Harageh, Minshat Abu Omar) and two in Nubia (Qushtamna, Risqalla). There is, however, a large increase in the distribution of vessels throughout Upper Egypt, with D-ware having been identified at 19 separate sites.3 Although it is difficult to make any inferences from this data considering the difficulty in differentiating Naqada IIC and IID vessels, the data that we do have suggests that the industry was increasing rapidly in Upper Egypt but was slower in its dispersal to more distant regions.

Naqada IIIA to IIIB The final phase of D-ware production is the Naqada IIIA to IIIB period, of which there are 145 known examples, constituting 20.6% of the corpus. There is a clear decline in the number of vessels dating to this period when compared to the preceding Naqada IIC to IID period that is also reflected in the number of sites at which D-Ware is found. The majority of the vessels are from Upper Egypt (n=85; 58.6%) and were found at 15 different sites,6 compared with 26 from the Naqada IIC-IID period. More interestingly, the relative percentage of vessels found in Middle Egypt increases in this period, with 41 vessels (28.8%) found at five different sites (Badari, Hammamiya, Matmar, Mostagedda, Qau); this is almost double the percentage from the previous phase. There is, however, a decrease in the quantity and distribution of vessels in Lower Egypt (n=11; 7.6%) found at two different sites (Gerzeh and Tarkhan) and Nubia (n=8; 5.5%), also found at two sites (Aksha and Qustul). Despite this decrease in quantity, it is clear that vessels were still being distributed over a wide area until production of D-Ware ceased.

Naqada IID The number of vessels dating to the Naqada IID period, totalling 145 (20.6% of the total corpus), are similar to that of the Naqada IIC period. Again, they are predominantly found in Upper Egypt (n=121; 83.4%), with small numbers found in Middle Egypt (n=20; 13.8%), Lower Egypt (n=2; 1.4%) and Nubia (n=2; 1.4%). They are found at a similar number of sites as the Naqada IIC vessels: 18 in Upper Egypt,4 six in Middle Egypt (Badari, Hammamiya, Matmar, Mostagedda, Qau, Zawiet el-Maietin), one in Lower Egypt (Gerzeh) and one in Nubia (Qushtamna). This suggests that although there are slightly more vessels dating to this period, there is little increase in the expansion of the industry into regions outside of Upper Egypt when compared to the Naqada IIC period.

Remaining Vessels As mentioned earlier, there are 21 vessels which do not fall within the three chronological phases above. This is either due to the designs being utilised over a longer period of time or motifs that are not present in Petrie’s corpus and thus not included in subsequent studies on Predynastic chronology. Of these 21 vessels, 12 fall within the latter category and remain undated at this stage. These vessels

Naqada IIC-IID As mentioned above, just under half of the vessels dating to this period are unable to be separated into Naqada IIC   Abadiya, Abu Zaidan, Abydos, Adaima, Armant, Diospolis Parva (Hu), el-Amra, el-Tarif, Esna, Gebel Silsileh, Gebelein, Gebelet Yussef, Hierakonpolis, Mahasna, Mesaid, Naga ed-Der, Naga el-Hai, Naqada, Semaineh. 4   Abadiya, Abydos, Adaima, Armant, Diospolis Parva (Hu), el-Amra, Gebel Silsileh, Gebelein, Hierakonpolis, Khozam, Mahasna, Ma’mariya, Mesaid, Naga ed-Der, Naqada, Qena, Semaineh, Toukh.

  Abadiya, Abu Zaidan, Abydos, Adaima, Armant, Ballas, Diospolis Parva (Hu), el-Amra, Gebel Silsileh, Gebelein, Hierakonpolis, Khozam, Kubaniya, Mahasna, Ma’mariya, Mesaid, Naga ed-Der, Naga el-Hai, Naqada, Semaineh, Thebes, Toukh. 6   Abadiya, Abu Zaidan, Adaima, Armant, Ballas, Diospolis Parva (Hu), Elkab, el-Khattara, Hierakonpolis, Kubaniya, Mahasna, Mesaid, Naga ed-Der, Naga el-Hai, Naqada.

3

5

73

Jessica Cox mostly come from Upper Egyptian contexts (n=10) but there are also two from Middle Egypt. Of the remaining nine vessels, Hendrickx (1989, 79-82) has dated three to the Naqada IC period, as mentioned above, which have been included in this study since they are included in Petrie’s D-Class. These three vessels were found at two different sites in Upper (Naqada; n=2) and Middle Egypt (Hammamiya; n=1). Five of the remaining vessels date to the Naqada IIB-IIC period and were found at the sites of Gebelein, Gerzeh, Kubaniya, Matmar and Naqada. The remaining vessel dates to the Naqada IIB to IID period and was found at the Upper Egyptian site of Gebelein. It is hoped that once the evolution of motif styles can be determined that these vessels will be able to be dated more securely than at present.

Graph 3: Geographical Distribution of Sherds different sites. Interestingly, the number of sherds from Middle Egypt is almost as high (n=81), forming 44% of the corpus. They were found at three different sites but the vast majority of them were found at the North Spur Settlement site at Hammamiya (n=71) (Brunton and CatonThompson 1928, 69-116). This highlights the importance of excavating Predynastic settlements; it is clear that D-Ware was used in these contexts but there is not enough comparable data to determine whether or not the quantity of D-Ware at Hammamiya was average or exceptional. Very few sherds have been found outside of Upper and Middle Egypt with five in Lower Egypt (2.7%), three in Nubia (1.6%) and one in the Levant (0.5%). These were all found at single sites: Buto in Lower Egypt (Köhler 1992, fig. 6), Qustul in Nubia and Taur Ikhbeineh in the Levant (Oren & Yekutieli 1992, 372).

The Geography of D-Ware As already established above, D-Ware vessels have been found at numerous sites throughout Egypt and Lower Nubia. To date, the 705 whole vessels have been found at 48 different sites with 184 D-ware sherds present at 17 different sites in Egypt, Lower Nubia and the Levant. This section will discuss the geography of both D-Ware vessels and sherds according to region, in order to determine any changes in their distribution over time. When looking at the vessels and sherds together, they have been found at 51 different sites to date throughout Upper, Middle and Lower Egypt and in Lower Nubia to the south and the Levantine coast to the north (see Plate 1). In terms of the whole vessels, 511 have been found in Upper Egypt at 29 different sites, which constitutes 72.5% of the overall corpus. Middle Egypt yields the next highest number of vessels with a total of 127 (18%) from six different sites. Relatively few vessels have been found in Lower Egypt (n=45; 6.4%) and Nubia (n=22; 3.1%) but they are spread over a range of different sites: six in Lower Egypt and eight in Nubia. Graph 2 details the number of whole vessels found in each region.

Upper Egypt Since Upper Egypt is likely the birthplace of the D-Ware industry, it is not surprising that this is where the majority of both vessels (509; 73.4%) and sherds (n=94; 51.1) have been found to date. In terms of chronology, D-ware is present in Upper Egyptian contexts throughout the entire span of production, from Naqada IIA to IIIB (c. 36003100 BCE). Upper Egyptian D-ware has been found at 29 different sites, as can be seen in the table below.

The distribution of the sherds presents a slightly different picture than that of whole vessels (Graph 3). Upper Egyptian examples are again the most numerous (n=94), constituting 51.1% of the corpus and are found at ten

Middle Egypt Middle Egypt has the second highest number of D-Ware vessels and sherds in the overall assemblage with 127 vessels (18%) and 81 sherds (44%) found there to date. There are six sites in Middle Egypt that have yielded D-Ware: Badari, Hammamiya, Matmar, Mostagedda, Qau and Zawiet el-Maietin. Chronologically, D-Ware is attested to in Middle Egypt from the Naqada IIB to IIIB periods indicating that there was a demand for vessels outside of Upper Egypt from almost the beginning of their production. Lower Egypt Lower Egypt has yielded a relatively small number of D-Ware examples compared to Middle and Upper Egypt,

s

Graph 2: Geographical Distribution of Whole Vessel

74

From Nubia to the Levant

Table 1: Upper Egyptian D-Ware Sites which is to be expected the further ones moves away from the supposed production centres. A total of 45 whole vessels have been found, constituting 6.4% of the overall assemblage, as well as five sherds (2.7% of the sherd corpus). Despite the small number of examples, D-Ware has been found at seven different sites in northern Egypt: Abusir el-Meleq, Buto, Gerzeh, Harageh, Mishat Abu Omar, Tamit and Tarkhan with vessels dating from the Naqada IIB to IIIB periods.

industry had its roots in the south. It is also clear that there was a strong demand for D-Ware outside of Upper Egypt, with relatively high numbers of vessels and sherds found in Middle Egypt from the Naqada IIB to IIIB periods. Determining likely production centres is not possible at this early stage of the investigation but there are several small clusters of sites where large numbers of vessels seem to be concentrated, four in Upper Egypt and one in Middle Egypt. The four Upper Egyptian ‘clusters’ seem to be centred around the sites of Abydos, Diospolis Parva, Naqada and Hierakonpolis; however, it should be pointed out that the Diospolis Parva group lies geographically between Abydos and Naqada and may be connected with one of these larger groups of sites.

Nubia Only a small number of vessels have been found in Nubia with a total of 22 vessels (3.1% of the overall corpus) and three sherds (1.6%). The vessels have a date range of Naqada IIB to IIIB and were found at eight different sites throughout Lower Nubia: Aksha, Dakka, Mediq, Missiminia, Qushtamna, Qustul, Risqalla and Shem Nishei. The discovery of D-Ware in Nubia at all is significant since the local A-Group culture produced their own decorated pottery, some of which depict very elaborate faunal scenes (Williams 1986).

The Abydos cluster of D-Ware vessels is the largest of the five identified and incorporates five different sites: Abydos/Umm el-Qaab, el-Amra, Mahasna, Mesaid and Naga ed-Der. Together, these sites have yielded 171 whole vessels. In terms of chronology, the vast majority of vessels date from the Naqada IIC to IID period (n=135) with much smaller numbers attested to during the Naqada IIB period (n=2) and the Naqada IIIA to IIIB period (n=29). The remaining vessels are of an unknown date (n=5). This indicates that there was a relatively high demand during the Naqada II period, which drops off dramatically by the Naqada III period where D-Ware is attested to at only three of the five sites (Mahasna, Mesaid, Naga ed-Der). Of these five sites, Mesaid has yielded the most examples of D-Ware to date (n=69) as well as the highest number of vessels dating to the Naqada III period (n=21).

The Levant Only one sherd has been found as far north as the Levant at the site of Taur Ikhbeineh. The sherd in question is tentatively dated to the Naqada IIC to IID period as it depicts one of the iconic boats that belong to this period (Oren & Yekutieli 1992, 372). Conclusions Despite the problems with dating the D-ware vessels and sherds, it is clear that the industry flourished in the Naqada IIC to IID period when compared to the earlier Naqada IIA to IIB period. There is a noticeable decline in the number of vessels found dating to the Naqada IIIA to IIIB period but since these vessels differ considerably from their Naqada II counterparts, it is difficult to compare the two corpuses and as such a caveat must be placed on the following conclusions that take this into account. The vast majority of vessels and sherds have been found in Upper Egypt, including most of the vessels dating to the earliest phase of production (Naqada IIA to IIB). This indicates that the

The next cluster of Upper Egyptian sites is centred around the site of Diospolis Parva (Hu), located to the south of Abydos, incorporates three sites: Diospolis Parva, Abadiya and Semaineh. A total of 73 vessels have been found in this area, constituting 10.4% of the entire corpus. Chronologically, the vessels span the entire phase of production from the Naqada IIA to Naqada IIIB periods but the vast majority date to the Naqada IIC to IID period (n=64). Only a small number of vessels date to the subsequent Naqada III period (n=6) and they are found at Diospolis Parva (Hu) and Abadiya.

75

Jessica Cox Bibliography

The third cluster, centred around the site of Naqada, has the second highest number of D-Ware vessels, numbering 162. However, this is misleading in some ways since the vast majority of these vessels were found at Naqada itself (n=128). The remaining 34 vessels were found at the sites of Ballas, Toukh, el-Khattara, Khozam, el-Tarif and Armant. Like the previous two groups of sites, this group is predominantly restricted to the Naqada IIC to IID period (n=122) with only small numbers of vessels dating to the Naqada III phase (n=21). The remaining vessels date to the Naqada IC period (n=2), IIA to IIB period (n=14), IIB to IIC period (n=1) or are of an unknown date (n=2).

Bourriau, J.D., Nicholson, P.T. & Rose, P.J. 2000. ‘Pottery’. In Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, edited by Nicholson, P.T; I. Shaw. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 121-147. Brunton, G. & Caton-Thompson, G. 1928. The Badarian Civilisation and Predynastic Remains near Badari, London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt. Graff, G. 2009. Les Peintures sur Vases de Naqada I – Naqada II: Nouvelle Approche Sémiologique de l’Iconographie Prédynastique, Leuven: Leuven University Press. Graff, G. 2013. Construire l’Image, Ordonner le Reel: Les Vases Peints du IV ͤ Millénaire en Égypte, Paris: Editions Errance. Hendrickx, S. 1989. De Grafvelden der Naqada-Cultuur in Zuid-Egypte, met Bijzondere Aandact Voor Het Naqada III Grafveld te Elkab. Interne Chronologie en Sociale Differentiatie. Unpublished PhD Thesis. Leuven: Katholieke Universiteit te Leuven. Hendrickx, S. 1996. ‘The Relative Chronology of the Naqada Culture: Problems and Possibilities’. In Aspects of Early Egypt, edited by Spencer, A.J. London: British Museum Press, 36-69. Hendricks, S. 2011. ‘Iconography of the Predynastic and Early Dynastic Periods’. In Before the Pyramids: The Origins of Egyptian Civilisation, edited by Teeter, E. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 75-81. Hendrickx, S. 2006. ‘Predynastic – Early Dynastic Chronology’. In Ancient Egyptian Chronology, edited by Hornung, E; Krauss, R; Warbuton, D.A. Leiden: Brill, 55-93. Hendricks, S. & van den Brink, E.C.M. 2002. ‘Inventory of Predynastic and Early Dynastic Cemetery and Settlement Sites in the Egyptian Nile Valley’. In Egypt and the Levant: Interrelations from the 4th through the Early 3rd Millennium BCE, edited by van den Brink, E.C.M; Levy, T.E. London: Leicester University Press, 346-402. Köhler, E.C. 1992. ‘The Pre- and Early Dynastic Pottery of Tell el-Fara’in (Buto)’ In The Nile Delta in Transition: 4th – 3rd Millennium BC, edited by van den Brink, E.C.M. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 11-22. Oren, E.D. & Yekutieli, Y. 1992. ‘Taur Ikhbeineh: Earliest Evidence for Egyptian Interconnections’. In The Nile Delta in Transition: 4th – 3rd Millennium B.C., edited by van den Brink, E.C.M. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 361-384. Patch, D.C. 2011. Dawn of Egyptian Art. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Payne, J.C. 1990. ‘The Chronology of Predynastic Egyptian Decorated Ware’. Eretz-Israel, 21: 77-82. Petrie, W.M.F. 1921. Corpus of Prehistoric Pottery and Palettes. London: Aris and Phillips Ltd. Renfrew, C., Bahn, P. 2004. Archaeology: Theories, Methods, Practices. 4th Edition. London: Thames and Hudson.

The fourth group of sites centres around Hierakonpolis in southern Upper Egypt and incorporates six sites: Hierakonpolis, Adaima, Ma’mariya, Elkab, Gebelet Yussef and Abu Zaidan. Together these sites have yielded 70 vessels with the highest number of known vessels found at Hierakonpolis to date (n=32). Unlike the other Upper Egyptian clusters, this group does not show the same decline in the Naqada III period. Although the highest number of vessels are attributed to the Naqada IIC to IID period (n=41), there is still a relatively high number of vessels that belong to the Naqada III phase (n=25) suggesting that demand for D-Ware had not declined in this region. It is also interesting to note that only a small number of vessels date to the earlier phase of production with three vessels attributed to the Naqada IIB period. The final group of sites that stands out is the Middle Egyptian cluster which incorporates the sites of Badari, Matmar, Mostagedda, Hammamiya and Qau that between them has yielded 124 vessels. This is a high number considering that the industry is thought to have been based exclusively in Upper Egypt. The earliest vessels in Middle Egypt date to the Naqada IC period (n=1) and Naqada IIB period (n=4) with the demand steadily increasing in the Naqada IIC to IID period (n=75). Interestingly, there is still a relatively high number of vessels dating to the Naqada III period in this region (n=41). The remaining vessels date to the Naqada IIB to IIC (n=1) period or are of unknown date (n=1). It is possible that each of these five groups of sites represent different centres of production, based at the sites that have yielded the highest number of vessels: Mesaid in the Abydos region, Diospolis Parva (Hu), Naqada, Hierakonpolis and Hammamiya in Middle Egypt. Alternatively, it is equally likely that these clusters simply reflect a higher demand for this product. The chronology also reveals an interesting trend: there is severe decline in the numbers of vessels dating to the Naqada III period in the Abydos, Diospolis and Naqada regions, indicating that demand for D-Ware had all but ceased by this time. However, the industry still seems to be relatively stable in both the Hierakonpolis region and Middle Egypt after the Naqada IID period. It is possible that the industry began at the site of Naqada (where we have the earliest examples) and then spread to outlying areas, which may explain why there are high numbers of Naqada III pottery outside of this region, after production ceases at Naqada itself. 76

From Nubia to the Levant Wengrow, D. 2006. The Archaeology of Early Egypt: Social Transformations in North-East-Africa 10,000 to 2650 BC. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Williams, B.B. 1986. The University of Chicago Oriental Institute Nubian Expedition Volume III. Part 1: The A-Group Royal Cemetery at Qustul: Cemetery L.

Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Williams, B.B. 1989. The University of Chicago Oriental Institute Nubian Expedition Volume IV: Excavations between Abu Simbel and the Sudan Frontier. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago.

77

Jessica Cox

Plate 1: Map of D-Ware sites

78

Beyond the Fayum: The Development of Egypt’s Western Oases during the Ptolemaic Period James C. R. Gill Abstract This paper argues that, like the Fayum, the oases of Egypt’s Western Desert were targeted by the Ptolemaic rulers for development. This involved a process of new settlement foundation and agricultural exploitation, which together was designed to increase both the population of the oases and the amount of arable land under cultivation. In this way, the Ptolemies ensured that additional food supplies were made available to the temple estates of the Nile Valley, which was particularly important during times of low-inundation when food stores were at their lowest.

Introduction

Davoli 2011: 139; Bagnall and Rathbone 2004: 249; Kaper 2012a: 717-718). Certainly, inscriptional evidence for Ptolemaic activity in the oases is comparatively limited. The key sources are the ‘Oasis List’ at Edfu (Dümichen 1877, 23ff, Pl. 3-10; most recently Aufrère 2000), a Demotic inscription at Gebel Sheikh el-Haridi (Spiegelberg 1913, 68, 71; cf. most recently Cruz-Uribe and Farid 2000), inscriptions at the temples of Hibis (Winlock 1941, 39) and Qasr el-Ghueita (Darnell et al. 2013), a recently published private statue belonging to an administrator of the Southern Oasis (Klotz 2013b), and Ptolemaic ostraka from both Kharga (Kaplony-Heckel 2000) and Dakhleh (Nur-el-Din 1982; Vittmann 2012). The archaeological evidence is more abundant (Gill 2014), particularly the ceramic remains (Gill 2012a; 2012b; In press a), although this has not received as much attention in the published literature.

Under the early Ptolemaic kings the Fayum witnessed a significant increase in population, evidenced by numerous new settlements and extensive land reclamation and exploitation (Clarysse and Thompson 2006, 90; Davoli 1998; Hölbl 2001, 62-63; Manning 2010, 5; Thompson 2003, 108; cf. Monson 2012, 65-66). This development was designed to meet the Ptolemies’ need for increased revenue (Thompson 2008, 35), as well as providing arable land for kleruchs (Manning 2010, 161-163; Mueller 2006, 183). The Fayum was apparently targeted because it was the only region with the necessary conditions to enable such extensive development, due to its low population density, abundant arable land, and proximity to the Nile (Hölbl 2001, 63; Manning 2010, 139); however, the Ptolemies did not target the Fayum exclusively. The region around Oxyrhynchus also appears to have been developed, albeit not on the same scale as the Fayum (Thompson 2008, 30), whilst certain areas of the Nile Delta, such as the Wadi Tumilat, and parts of Upper Egypt also appear to have been subject to increased settlement and exploitation (Davoli 2010, 353; Rowlandson 2003, 256-258).

Cruz-Uribe (2010, 502) has suggested that during the Ptolemaic Period ‘there was little incentive to view the oases as an area of potential wealth…’; however, this view does not fit with what we know of Ptolemaic economic policy and agricultural development schemes in other parts of Egypt. Considering the desire of the early Ptolemaic rulers to exploit regions such as the Eastern Desert, Lower Nubia and Cyrenaica, it is logical that the Ptolemies also looked to the Western Oases as an area for potential development. As we shall see, recent research conducted by the author supports such a contention.

The role of the Western Oases within the broader development policy of the early Ptolemaic rulers has largely remained unconsidered in the published literature, despite the fact that this region also met the criteria for development. This included proximity to the Nile Valley, low population density, and available arable land, not to mention the added advantage of year-round water supply (Figure 1). Whilst recent studies have touched on the Ptolemaic exploitation of the oases (Darnell et al. 2013, 30-31; Klotz 2013a, 909; cf. also Gill 2014), the general impression gained in the published literature is that it was under the Romans that the oases were really developed and exploited (cf. Bagnall and Rathbone 2004, 262; CruzUribe 2010, 502; Davoli 2010, 357-358; 2014, 6; Kaper 1998, 148; Mills 1984, 208-209; 1985, 128; 1999, 177; van Zoest and Kaper 2006, 12). The idea that Ptolemies could have similarly exploited the oases has not found favour in the literature, mostly due to the (incorrect) perception that there is hardly any evidence for Ptolemaic activity in the oases compared to the Roman evidence (Bagnall and

Dakhleh Oasis Recent studies have greatly enhanced our knowledge of the Ptolemaic pottery industry in Dakhleh Oasis (cf. Gill 2012a; 2012b; 2014). One key result of this work is that a significant amount of Ptolemaic evidence has now been identified in the oasis. Based on an analysis of the ceramic remains, seventy-two Ptolemaic sites have now been identified, which is far more than the seventeen initially recorded by the Dakhleh Oasis Project (Churcher and Mills 1999, 260-263). This contradicts the common idea that there is very little evidence for Ptolemaic activity in Dakhleh, especially when compared to the abundant evidence for Roman Period activity (Bagnall and Rathbone

79

James C. R. Gill 2004, 262; Mills 1980, 256; van Zoest and Kaper 2006, 11). It also challenges the popular conclusion that the oasis experienced a sudden and dramatic increase in population during the Roman Period (cf. above).

activity at ‘Ain al-Azizi (Hope 2000, 192-193). Ptolemaic activity continued at each of these sites, most likely with Mut al-Kharab as the administrative capital of the oasis if we go by the size of the site and the nature of the Ptolemaic evidence discovered there (cf. Gill 2012a; Vittmann 2012). Three-quarters of Ptolemaic sites in the oasis have yielded little or no evidence for pre-Ptolemaic activity, which suggests that these were newly-developed areas under the Ptolemies (Figure 2). In particular, the region south of Dayr al-Haggar (Group A) appears to have been subject to increased exploitation, as was the region south of Amheida (Groups D and E). Other areas that appear to have been developed under the Ptolemies include the region west of ‘Ain al-Azizi (Group G), the area to the north of this (Group H), the region around Ismant al-Kharab (Group K), and the eastern end of the oasis around ‘Ain Birbiyeh (Groups L, M and N).

The population of the oasis appears to have doubled in size during the Ptolemaic Period; only thirty-five Late Period sites have been identified (Hubschmann 2009, 4) compared to seventy-two Ptolemaic sites (Gill 2014). Of course, I have assumed that the total number of sites in the oasis during any given period is directly proportional to the overall size of the population. Ideally, we should consider not only the total number of sites, but also the number of each type of site (i.e. settlement; cemetery) and the size of each site (i.e. surface area; number and size of buildings; number of tombs); however, this is not possible, as most of the sites discussed here have been subject to only cursory investigation, and details relating to the size and number of buildings, and the number of tombs are generally only estimates. Nonetheless, based on the total number of sites in the oasis it appears that the population had doubled again by the Roman Period. This argues against the conclusion that the oasis experienced a dramatic increase in population during the Roman Period. Rather, it appears that we should view the Roman expansion more as a continuation of a population increase that had begun already in the Ptolemaic Period.

It appears that the strategy implemented by the Ptolemies involved the maintenance of settlements that were already present in Dakhleh, as well as the foundation of a number of new settlements, in order to increase both the population and the agricultural productivity of the oasis. Overall, this pattern of development mirrors that which has been identified for the Fayum; there the settlements of Bacchias and Tebtynis appear to have been already occupied during the Late Period (Davoli 2010, 353; Marchand 1996), and were subject to continued development under the Ptolemies, whilst many other Fayum settlements appear to be new Ptolemaic foundations.

Whilst the number of sites alone has important implications for the study of Ptolemaic Dakhleh, when we look at the distribution of these sites it is possible to see certain patterns emerge, which provide further insight into the nature of human settlement in the oasis during this period. It is evident that the majority of sites are located either on or beyond the edge of the modern cultivation (Figure 2); this may be a direct result of increased preservation outside the areas of modern cultivation due to a lesser degree of human interference, but it may also reflect environmental conditions in the Ptolemaic Period, such as the location of sand dunes and the availability of water sources. It is clear that many sites are clustered into distinct groups, which are relatively evenly distributed across the oasis, with five groups located in the north-western region, five groups located in the central region, and three groups located in the eastern region (Figure 2). These groups are defined partly on the basis of geographic proximity, with the majority of sites in any given group falling within a radius of two kilometres, but also on the basis of the types of associated sites. For instance, each group comprises a major settlement, one or more cemeteries and usually also a temple. These groups appear to represent distinct communities, with major communities centred on the sites of Dayr al-Haggar, Mut al-Kharab, ‘Ain al-Azizi, and ‘Ain Birbiyeh.

The Western Oases The development apparent for Ptolemaic Dakhleh is likely to have also occurred in the other oases, although the evidence is much more tenuous. The strongest evidence comes from Kharga Oasis, where it seems that a similar process of settlement development and land exploitation probably took place under the Ptolemies (Gill 2014). Existing settlements at Hibis (Winlock 1941, 34-35) and Qasr al-Ghueita (Darnell et al. 2013, 8, 20) continued to be occupied during the Ptolemaic Period and the temples at both of those sites each received additions under the Ptolemies. The region around ‘Ain Manawir/Dush in the south of Kharga had already experienced increased development under the Persians (Wuttmann and Marchand 2005, 197-199), and it is clear that the area continued to be exploited during the Ptolemaic Period (Wuttmann et al. 1996, 392; 1998, 381, 438). New Ptolemaic settlements appear to have been established in the north of Kharga, as there is some evidence for Ptolemaic activity at Umm el-Dabadib (Rossi and Ikram 2006, 281-283), ‘Ain elLabakha (Ibrahim et al. 2008, 25) and ‘Ain el-Dabashiya (Dunand et al. 2013; Ikram and Rossi 2007: 177). ElDeir appears to have already been occupied during the 4th century BCE (Tallet 2014), although it was expanded substantially under the Ptolemies with the addition of a new temple (Dunand et al. 2010: 47; 2012: 287-291; Tallet

Prior to the Ptolemaic Period, important settlements appear to have been located at Mut al-Kharab (Hope 2005; Hope et al. 2009, 64-66; Kaper 2012b, 167-169), and Amheida (Davoli 2012, 263-267; Kaper 2012b, 169-172), whilst there is also a small amount of evidence for Late Period 80

Beyond the Fayum et al. 2012: 353).1 Furthermore, recent work at that site has begun to reveal evidence for extensive Ptolemaic land exploitation (Tallet et al. 2012; G. Tallet pers. comm. 2013).

land that were previously inaccessible. The saqiya enabled water to be drawn more quickly than the traditional shaduf, and also enabled farmers to exploit much deeper wells (Hairy 2009, 564).

The Ptolemies likely made use of established settlements in Kharga as key centres from which new settlements in the surrounding region could be administered. New Ptolemaic foundations would have benefited from a close relationship with the larger regional centres, where major temples had been previously established and administrative frameworks were already in place. This interpretation fits well with the settlement pattern identified for Dakhleh and suggests that a similar Ptolemaic development strategy was implemented in both of these oases.

The Ptolemies might have also taken advantage of existing qanat systems in Kharga, Farafra and Bahariya, which had been introduced by the Persians and which were apparently reused during the Roman Period (Buongarzone et al. 2010; De Angeli 2013; De Angeli and Finocchi 2010; Schacht 2003; Wuttmann 2001). The possibility that such qanat systems were reused during the Ptolemaic Period has largely remained unexplored in the published literature, despite the fact that they are found associated with sites that have yielded evidence for Persian, Ptolemaic and Roman activity (e.g. at ‘Ain Manawir/Dush). Significantly, qanat systems are located at both Umm el-Dabadib and ‘Ain el-Labakha in northern Kharga (Schacht 2003); since both sites appear to have been occupied only during the Ptolemaic and Roman periods, there is a possibility that the qanats at these sites were in fact constructed in Ptolemaic times, rather than during the Roman Period as is assumed by some scholars (Rossi in Rossi and Ikram 2010, 238). In Dakhleh, possible qanat systems have been recently discovered, but they do not seem to have been widespread.2 Instead, we find throughout this oasis the remains of ancient irrigation channels, which are often attributed to the Roman Period (Mills 1979, 175; Zaghloul et al. 2013, 160; cf. Kleindienst et al. 1999, 40-41), but which could just as easily be of Ptolemaic date. These channels are particularly visible in the area surrounding ‘Ain al-Azizi and also around Dayr al-Haggar (Zaghloul et al. 2013), both areas that appear to have been subject to increased settlement during the Ptolemaic Period. Such infrastructure is not easily dated, but it is problematic to simply assume a Roman date.

The picture in the other oases is less clear, although there is evidence for Ptolemaic activity in Bahariya and Siwa, which demonstrates that those oases at least continued to be occupied, if not extensively developed (Gill 2014). The presence of a very large Ptolemaic/Roman cemetery in Bahariya, the so-called Valley of the Golden Mummies (Hawass 2000), could perhaps be regarded as evidence for increased settlement during this time. The idea that Bahariya was developed by the Ptolemies is further supported by inscriptions from the temple of Qasr elGhueita in Kharga, which record that it was provisioned ‘with all good products which come from Bahariya Oasis’ (Darnell et al. 2013, 30; cf. below). In Siwa, the presence of several large Ptolemaic/Roman settlements on the east bank of Lake Zeitun might point to the development of the region under the Ptolemies (Heinzelmann and Buess 2011). Overall, the archaeological evidence points to a deliberate strategy of settlement foundation and land development in the oases during the Ptolemaic Period (Gill 2014; contra. Cruz-Uribe 2010, 502). It appears that many existing settlements continued to be occupied; however, at the same time the Ptolemies also established new settlements in areas that were previously unoccupied, or at least underdeveloped, in order to maximise the agricultural productivity of the oases.

The Ptolemies likely exploited the agricultural potential of the oases in order to supplement their stores in the Nile Valley (Darnell et al. 2013: 30-31; Klotz 2013a: 909). With the advantage of a continuous water supply, the oases could provide food even when Nile Valley production was diminished, such as during a particularly low-inundation reported in the Canopus decree of 238 BCE (Pfeiffer 2004: 93-99). An inscription of Ptolemy III Euergetes from Qasr al-Ghueita informs us that he built the temple ‘in order to direct divine offerings to Thebes, for his father’ (Darnell et al. 2013: 31), and in doing so Ptolemy III was able to support his building programme there (Darnell et al. 2013: 30-31). These ‘divine offerings’ comprised products from Kharga Oasis, and evidently also from Bahariya, and included wine, food-products and myrrh (Darnell et al. 2013: 29). Demotic ostraka of Ptolemaic date from el-Muzawwaqa (Nur el-Din 1982) and Mut al-Kharab (Vittmann 2012) in Dakhleh provide further evidence for the types of goods that were collected as payment by

The Oasis Advantage The key advantage to the exploitation of the oases was that, unlike agricultural production in the Nile Valley and the Fayum, which relied on trapped water from the annual Nile flood for irrigation, the oases had access to a continuous year-round water supply by means of natural artesian springs and artificial wells. The introduction of a new water-lifting device, the saqiya, which was in use from the 3rd century BCE (Hairy 2009, 562-564), would have allowed the Ptolemaic rulers to make greater use of the artesian water supply and exploit new areas of arable   The temple was recently discussed by G. Tallet, C. Gradel and Y. Chevalier at the conference Les mobiliers archéologiques dans leur contexte, de la Gaule à l’Orient méditerranéen, Poitiers, 27-29 October 2014.

1

  These are located at the eastern end of Dakhleh. They were discussed by Sabri Youssef at the 7th International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, Leiden, 20-24 June 2012.

2

81

James C. R. Gill Egitto (RISE) IV, edited by Pirelli, R. Cairo: Centro Archeologico Italiano, 63-83. Churcher, C. S; Mills, A. J. 1999. ‘Index List of Archaeological Sites Surveyed by the Dakhleh Oasis Project (Appendix II)’. In Reports from the Survey of the Dakhleh Oasis 1977-1987, edited by Churcher, C. S; Mills, A. J. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 251-265. Clarysse, W; Thompson, D. J. 2006. Counting the People in Hellenistic Egypt, Volume 2: Historical Studies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cruz-Uribe, E. 2010. ‘Social Structure and Daily Life: Graeco-Roman’, in A Companion to Ancient Egypt, edited by Lloyd, A. B. Chichester and Malden: WileyBlackwell, 491-506. Cruz-Uribe, E; Farid, A. 2000. ‘A New Look at an Ancient Graffito’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 27: 27-33. Darnell, J. C; Klotz, D; Manassa, C. 2013. ‘Gods on the Road: The Pantheon of Thebes at Qasr el-Ghueita’. In Documents de Théologies Thébaines Tardives 2, edited by Thiers, C. CENiM 8. Montpellier, 1-31. Davoli, P. 1998. L’Archeologia urbana nel Fayyum di età ellenistica e romana. Naples: G. Procaccini. Davoli, P. 2010. ‘Settlements – Distribution, Structure, Architecture: Graeco-Roman’. In A Companion to Ancient Egypt, edited by Lloyd, A. B. Chichester and Malden: Wiley-Blackwell, 350-369. Davoli, P. 2012. ‘Amheida 2007-2009: New Results from the Excavations’. In The Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, edited by Bagnall, R. S; Davoli, P; Hope, C. A. Dakhleh Oasis Project Monograph 15. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 263-278. Davoli, P. 2014. ‘Hellenistic and Roman Egypt, Archaeology of’. In Encyclopedia of Global Archaeology, edited by Smith, C. New York: Springer, 3247-3255. De Angeli, S. 2013. ‘‘Qanat Landscapes’ in the oases of the Western Desert of Egypt: The cases of the Bahriya and Farafra Oases’. In Bahriya Oasis: Recent Research into the Past of an Egyptian Oasis, edited by Dospěl, M; Suková, L. Prague: Charles University in Prague, 271-285. De Angeli, S; Finocchi, S. 2010. ‘Origine e diffusione dei canali idrici drenanti (qanat/foggara) in Africa settentrionale in età antica’. Bollettino di Archeologia On Line 1: 39-52. Dümichen, J. 1877. Die Oasen der Libyschen Wüste: Ihre alten Namen und ihre Lage, ihre vorzüglichsten Erzeugnisse und die in ihren Tempeln verehrten Gottheiten, nach den Berichten der altägyptischen Denkmäler. Strassburg: Trübner. Dunand, F; Heim, J.-L; Lichtenberg, R. 2012. ‘Les Nécropoles d’el-Deir (Oasis de Kharga)’. In The Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, edited by Bagnall, R. S; Davoli, P; Hope, C. A. Dakhleh Oasis Project Monograph 15. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 279295.

the temples. The two most common products mentioned are wheat and oil, whilst wine, olive oil, barley, sesame, grapes, lotus oil, incense and myrrh are also attested (Nur el-Din 1982, 115-116; Vittmann 2012, 30). Most of these products are discussed in the context of temple payments and receipts of payments, so it is likely that these were the kinds of goods that were redistributed to the Nile Valley temples. Wheat and oil are mentioned frequently in the Dakhleh ostraka, suggesting that they were staple oasis products, and we can also add wine to this group. Wine is listed in the Ghueita inscription (Darnell et al. 2013: 30), and furthermore, the oases are frequently identified as wine-producing lands in Ptolemaic temple offering scenes in the Nile Valley (Poo 1995: 139ff). Vine-motifs are also encountered within the painted decoration on Ptolemaic pottery from Dakhleh (Gill In Press b), emphasising the role of wine as a key oasis product. Not only does this demonstrate the importance of agricultural production in the oases, but it points to the existence of an entire industry, as well as the infrastructure that would have been associated with it. Conclusion I have argued here for the existence of a deliberate Ptolemaic policy aimed at exploiting the Western Oases. By developing new settlements, increasing the population and expanding the land under cultivation, the Ptolemies were able to increase the agricultural productivity of the oases. The Ptolemies certainly saw the potential wealth in the oases and they targeted the area for development much as they did in the Fayum. Wheat, oil and wine were key oasis products, which could be used to supplement the storerooms of the Nile Valley temple-estates, and which could perhaps also be exported abroad. Either way, increased agricultural production meant increased revenue. In many ways the Ptolemies continued a process that had begun already during the Saite and Persian periods, and which laid the foundation for the development witnessed under Roman rule. The Romans took the existing infrastructure put in place by the Ptolemies and used it to their advantage, so much so that they are now given credit for the entire process (cf. Cruz-Uribe 2010, 502). Bibliography Aufrère, S. 2000. ‘La liste des sept oasis d’Edfou’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 100: 79127. Bagnall, R. S; Davoli, P. 2011. ‘Archaeological Work on Hellenistic and Roman Egypt, 2000-2009’. American Journal of Archaeology 115: 103-157. Bagnall, R. S; Rathbone, D. W. (eds). 2004. Egypt from Alexander to the Copts: An Archaeological and Historical Guide. London: British Museum Press. Buongarzone, R; De Angeli, S; Finocchi, S; Medaglia, S. 2010. ‘L’Oasi di Farafra. Sistemi idrici a qanat e insediamenti di età romana e bizantina. Risultati preliminari della prima missione dell’Università degli Studi della Tuscia’. In Ricerche italiane e scavi in 82

Beyond the Fayum Dunand, F; Heim, J.-L; Lichtenberg, R; Brones, S; Letellier-Willemin, F. 2010. El-Deir Nécropoles I, La nécropole Sud. Paris: Cybèle. Dunand, F; Ibrahim, B. A; Lichtenberg, R. 2013. Le matériel archéologique et les restes humains de la nécropole de Dabashiya� CENIM 7. Montpellier. Gill, J. C. R. 2012a. ‘Ptolemaic ‘Black Ware’ from Mut .

Ibrahim, B. A; Dunand, F; Heim, J.-L; Lichtenberg, R; Hussein, M. 2008. Le matériel archéologique et les restes humains de la nécropole d’Aïn el-Labakha (oasis de Kharga). Paris: Cybèle. Ikram, S; Rossi, C. 2007. ‘North Kharga Oasis Survey 2004 Preliminary Report: Ain el-Tarakwa, Ain elDabashiya and Darb Ain Amur’. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 63: 167-184. Kaper, O. E. 1998. ‘Temple Building in the Egyptian Deserts during the Roman Period’. In Life on the Fringe: Living in the Southern Egyptian Deserts during the Roman and Early-Byzantine Periods, edited by Kaper, O. E. Leiden: CNWS Publications, 139-158. Kaper, O. E. 2012a. ‘The Western Oases’. In The Oxford Handbook of Roman Egypt, edited by Riggs, C. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 717-735. Kaper, O. E. 2012b. ‘Epigraphic Evidence from the Dakhleh Oasis in the Late Period’. In The Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, edited by Bagnall, R. S; Davoli, P; Hope, C. A. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 167176. Kaplony-Heckel, U. 2000. ‘Die 28 demotischen HibisOstraka in New York’. Enchoria 26: 59-83. Kleindienst, M. R; Churcher, C. S; McDonald, M. M. A; Schwarz, H. P. 1999. ‘Geography, Geology, Geochronology and Geoarchaeology of the Dakhleh Oasis Region: An Interim Report’. In Reports from the Survey of the Dakhleh Oasis, Western Desert of Egypt, 1977-87, edited by Churcher, C. S; Mills, A. J. Dakhleh Oasis Project Monograph 2. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 1-54. Klotz, D. 2013a. ‘Administration of the Deserts and Oases: First Millennium B.C.E.’. In Ancient Egyptian Administration, edited by Garcia, J. C. M. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 901-909. Klotz, D. 2013b. ‘A Theban Devotee of Seth from the Late Period – Now Missing: Hannover, Ex-Museum August Kestner, Inv. S. 0366’. Studien zur Altägyptischen Kultur 42: 155-180. Manning, J. G. 2010. The Last Pharaohs: Egypt Under the Ptolemies, 305-30 BC. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press. Marchand, S. 1996. ‘Présentation de la céramique du IVe siècle av. J.-C. découverte à Tebtynis’. Cahiers de la Céramique Égyptienne 4: 171-188. Mills, A. J. 1979. ‘Dakhleh Oasis Project: Report on the First Season of Survey, October – December 1978’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 9: 163-185. Mills, A. J. 1980. ‘Dakhleh Oasis Project: Report on the Second Season of Survey, September –December 1979’. Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities 10/4: 251-282. Mills, A. J. 1984. ‘Research in the Dakhleh Oasis’. In Origin and Early Development of Food-Producing cultures in North-Eastern Africa, edited by Krzyzaniak,

Gill, J. C. R. 2012b. ‘Ptolemaic Period Pottery from Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis’. In The Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, edited by Bagnall, R. S; Davoli, P; Hope, C. A. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 231241. Gill, J. C. R. 2014. The Western Desert of Egypt during the Ptolemaic Period: A View from Dakhleh Oasis. PhD Thesis. Monash University, Melbourne. Gill, J. C. R. In Press a. ‘A Corpus of Late Period and Ptolemaic Bes-Vessels from Mut el-Kharab, Western Desert of Egypt’. In Vienna 2 - Ancient Egyptian Ceramics in the 21st Century: Proceedings of the International Conference held at the University of Vienna 14th-18th of May, 2012, edited by Bader, B; Knoblauch, C. M; Köhler, E. C. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta. Leuven: Peeters. Gill, J. C. R. In Press b. ‘Pottery Decoration in Dakhleh Oasis during the Ptolemaic Period: Evidence for a ‘Dakhleh Style’, Cahiers de la Céramique Égyptienne 10. Hairy, I. 2009. ‘Les machines de l’eau en Égypte et à Alexandrie’. In Du Nil à Alexandrie: Histoires d’eaux, edited by Hairy, I. Alexandria: Harpocrates, 550-571. Hawass, Z. 2000. Valley of the Golden Mummies. London: Virgin Publishing. Heinzelmann, M; Buess, M; 2011. ‘Untersuchungen zur Siedlungsstruktur der Oase Siwa in hellenistischrömischer Zeit: Vorbericht zu einer ersten Forschungskampagne am Birket Zaytun 2009’. Kölner und Bonner Archaeologica 1: 65-76. Hölbl, G. 2001. A History of the Ptolemaic Empire (trans. T. Saavedra). London and New York: Routledge. Hope, C. A. 2000. ‘Kegs and Flasks from the Dakhleh Oasis’. Cahiers de la Céramique Égyptienne 6: 189– 234. Hope, C. A. 2005. ‘Mut el-Kharab: Seth’s city in Dakhleh Oasis’. Egyptian Archaeology 27: 3–6. Hope, C. A; Bowen, G. E; Cox, J; Dolling, W; Milner, J; Pettman, A. 2009. ‘Report on the 2009 Season of Excavations at Mut el-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis’. Bulletin of the Australian Centre for Egyptology 20: 47-86. Hubschmann, C. 2009. The Oases of the Western Desert of Egypt during the Third Intermediate and Late Periods: The Study of a Regional Identity. PhD thesis. Monash University, Melbourne.

83

James C. R. Gill d’El-Deir (oasis de Kharga, Égypte)’. Dialogues d’histoire ancienne supplément 10: 217-252. Tallet, G; Bravard, J.-P; Garcier, R; Guédon, S; Mostapha, A. 2012. ‘The Survey Project at el-Deir, Kharga Oasis: First Results, New Hypotheses’. In The Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, edited by Bagnall, R. S; Davoli, P; Hope, C. A. Dakhleh Oasis Project Monograph 15. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 349-361. Thompson, D. J. 2003. ‘The Ptolemies and Egypt’. In A Companion to the Hellenistic World, edited by Erskine, A. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 105-120. Thompson, D. J. 2008. ‘Economic Reforms in the MidReign of Ptolemy Philadelphus’. In Ptolemy II Philadelphus and His World, edited by McKechnie, P; Guillaume, P. Leiden: Brill, 27-38. van Zoest, C; Kaper, O. E. 2006. Treasures of the Dakhleh Oasis. Cairo. Vittmann, G. 2012. ‘Demotische und kursivhieratische Ostraka aus Mut al-Kharab’. In The Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, edited by Bagnall, R. S; Davoli, P; Hope, C. A. Dakhleh Oasis Project Monograph 15. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 19-31. Winlock, H. E. 1941. The Temple of Hibis in el Khārgeh Oasis, Part I: The Excavations. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art. Wuttmann M. 2001. ‘Les qanats de ‘Ayn-Manawir (oasis de Kharga, Ègypte)’. In Irrigation et drainage dans l’antiquité: Qanats et canalisations souterraines en Iran, en Egypte et en Grece, edited by Briant, P. Persika 2. Paris: Thotm, 109-135. Wuttmann, M; Barakat, H; Bousquet, B; Chauveau, M; Gonon, T; Marchand, S; Robin, M; Schweitzer, A. 1998. ‘‘Ayn Manāwīr (oasis de Kharga): Deuxième rapport préliminaire’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 98: 367-462. Wuttmann, M; Bousquet, B; Chauveau, M; Dils, P; Marchand, S; Schweitzer, A; Volay, L. 1996. ‘Premier rapport préliminaire des travaux sur le site de ‘Ayn Manāwīr (oasis de Kharga)’. Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 96: 385-452. Wuttmann, M; Marchand, S. 2005. ‘Égypte’. In L’archéologie de l’empire achéménide: nouvelles recherches, edited by Briant, P; Boucharlat, R. Persika 6. Paris: Thotm, 97-121. Zaghloul, E. A; Hassan, S. M; Bahy El-Dein, A. M; Elbeih, S. F. 2013. ‘Detection of ancient irrigation canals of Deir El-Hagar playa, Dakhla Oasis, Egypt, using Egyptsat-1 data’. The Egyptian Journal of Remote Sensing and Space Sciences 16/2: 153-161.

L; Kobusiewicz, M. Poznan: Poznan Archaeological Museum, 205-210. Mills, A. J. 1985. ‘The Dakhleh Oasis Project’. In Mélanges Gamal Eddin Mokhtar, Volume II. Cairo: Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, 125-134. Mills, A. J. 1999. ‘Pharaonic Egyptians in the Dakhleh Oasis’. In Reports from the Survey of the Dakhleh Oasis, Western Desert of Egypt, 1977-87, edited by Churcher, C. S; Mills, A. J. Dakhleh Oasis Project Monograph 2. Oxford: Oxbow Books, 171-178. Monson, A. 2012. From the Ptolemies to the Romans: Political and Economic Change in Egypt. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mueller, K. 2006. Settlements of the Ptolemies: City Foundations and New Settlements in the Hellenistic World. Leuven: Peeters. Nur-el-Din, M. A. 1982. ‘The Demotic Ostraca from Qaret el-Muzawwaqa’. In Denkmäler der Oase Dachla aus dem Nachlass von Ahmed Fakhry, edited by Osing, J; Moursi, M; Arnold, D; Neugebauer, O; Parker, R. A; Pingree, D; Nur-el-Din, M. A. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern, 103-117. Pfeiffer, S. 2004. Das Dekret von Kanopos (238 v. Chr.): Kommentar und historische Auswertung eines dreisprachigen Synodaldekretes der ägyptischen Priester zu Ehren. Munich: KG Saur. Poo, M. 1995. Wine and Wine Offering in the Religion of Ancient Egypt. London and New York: Kegan Paul International. Rossi, C; Ikram S. 2006. ‘North Kharga Oasis Survey, 2003 Preliminary Report: Umm el-Dabadib’. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 62: 279-306. Rossi, C; Ikram S. 2010. ‘North Kharga Oasis Survey 2007, Preliminary Report: Ain Lebekha and Ain Amur’. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 66: 235-242. Rowlandson, J. 2003. ‘Town and Country in Ptolemaic Egypt’. In A Companion to the Hellenistic World, edited by Erskine, A. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 249-263. Schacht, I. 2003. ‘A Preliminary Survey of the Ancient Qanat Systems of the Northern Kharga Oasis’. Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 59: 411-423. Spiegelberg, W. 1913. ‘Eine Urkunde über die Eröffnung eines Steinbruchs unter Ptolemaios XIII’. Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Alterthumskunde 51: 6575. Tallet, G. 2014. ‘Culture matérielle et appartenances ethniques: quelques questions posées par les nécropoles

84

Beyond the Fayum

Figure 1 Map of Egypt showing the Western Oases.

Figure 2 Distribution of Ptolemaic sites in Dakhleh Oasis.

85

Material Culture

North Sinai during the LBA IIB-EIA: Preliminary results for Way of Horus analysis Stuart Ibrahim Abstract The limited archaeological remains within the early levels at Tell el-Zuweyid/Anthedon, 2km from the modern city of Gaza, are here compared to New Kingdom Egyptian fortresses along the Ways of Horus, in the northern Sinai region. This comparison is part of a critical reanalysis of Petrie’s conclusions regarding this site, to determine the accuracy of his conclusions and what can be learnt about Egyptian foreign relations in the Sinai/Levantine region. The current analysis compares the remains in these levels to the Late Bronze Age IIB to Iron Age I structures which are present at the sites of Tjaru/Tharu, Tell Heboua II, Tell el-Borg, Bir el-Abd and Tell el-Kharouba/Hourbati. Using the relevant archaeological and textual evidence, this analysis will address Tell el-Zuweyid’s role in Egyptian foreign relations and the nature of the settlement.

Introduction

Tell el-Zuweyid’s role in Egyptian foreign relations and the type of settlement that was present there will be addressed.

This paper analyses Tell el-Zuweyid/Anthedon, 2km from the modern city of Gaza, within the context of the New Kingdom/ Late Bronze Age IIB–Iron Age I fortresses along the northern Sinai route, also known as ‘the Ways of Horus’ (Figure 1). This is to establish whether the former contained a Late Bronze Age Egyptian fortress, as Petrie and Ellis (1937: 8) concluded. This area, previously used since the Early Bronze Age/Late Predynastic period, consisted of a chain of Late Bronze Age Egyptian fortresses and settlements along the southern Via Maris, from Tharu/Tjaru, in the eastern Egyptian Delta, to Gaza, or ‘Pa-Canaan’ in Egyptian records, in the east (Al-Ayedi 2002a: 4; Wernick 2011: 158; Gardiner 1920: 103-104; Braun 2014: 38, fig. 1; 42; Arnold 2003: 92). Seti I built a good number of these fortresses, which mostly date to the Late Bronze Age IIB onwards, after defeating Shashu (Bedouin) raiders in this area (Wernick 2011: 158; Morris 2005: 344-349; Al-Ayedi 2002a: 22-24; Gardiner 1920: 99). This increased the prestige and influence of sites, and garrison temples, under Egyptian control (Mumford 2014: 77-78). This analysis, therefore, is not just a re-examination of Petrie’s results, but also a discussion of Egyptian relations with the southern Levant, during the New Kingdom.

Egyptian textual references to these fortresses address the first two as ‘htm-fortresses’ and Buto of Seti-Merenptah and Hourbati as ‘nhtw-fortresses’ (Al-Ayedi 2002a: 4043,47-49,89-90, 98-99, 114; Morris 2005: 276-293, 399504). The ‘htm-fortress’ (observational fortress), the most frequently mentioned in New Kingdom Egyptian inscriptions, were situated at suitable locations for monitoring entry into Egypt (Morris 2005: 804). Tjaru and the ‘Dwelling of the Lion’, for example, are theoretically situated within the eastern Nile Delta, emphasising their role as administrative posts. The only ‘nhtw’-fortresses, or ‘stronghold’ -fortresses, ‘nhtw’ being Egyptian for strength, were the fortified sites along the Ways of Horus and prisons in Egypt, housing prisoners of war and foreign conscripts for state service (Urk. IV, 690: 2-5; Morris 2005: 427, foot note 236. The Wörterbuch (Wb II, 317: 14) in turn, translates the term as ‘hostage,’ rather than ‘stronghold,’ due to the context and the lack of a house determinative, which would require a singular use of the word. Dynasties 18-20 records support this translation, as they make reference to nhtw –forts being used to house the pharaoh’s vassals’ heirs apparent and foreign prisoners of war, who had chosen to join the army (KRI II 206: 15-16; Morris 2005: 427). Simply put, they were in areas where security was vitally important (Morris 2005: 426-427). These terms reveal the sites along the Ways of Horus were primarily fortified settlements, the structures serving as part of the fortress or of the local infrastructure. The site’s primary role, furthermore, will reflect the structures present. While each site contains different structures, the majority contained a central fortress, enclosure walls, a settlement, an adjacent magazine or granary, an administrative complex, an industrial quarter, a water reservoir and, sometimes, campsites (Mumford 2013: 5).

The current study will compare Tell el-Zuweyid with the sites of Tjaru, Tell Heboua II, Tell el-Borg, Bir elAbd and Tell el-Kharouba/Hourbati, as they have been equated with recorded Egyptian fortresses. The majority of archaeologists, including Morris (2005: 407), Al-Ayedi (2002a: 79) and Hoffmeier and Maksoud (2003: 170173), have identified Tell Heboua I, for example, as Tjaru (Wernick 2011: 160). Furthermore, Bir el-Abd has been equated with the ‘Buto of Seti-Merenptah’ fortress and Tell el-Kharouba with Hourbati (Morris 2005: 511; Hoffmeier 2013: 498; Al-Ayedi 2002a: 99). The ‘Dwelling of the Lion’, though, was equated with both Tell Heboua II and Tell el-Borg, necessitating an analysis of both sites (AlAyedi 2002a: 90; Hoffmeier and Moshier 2013: 487-490). Through the relevant archaeological and textual evidence,

The comparison with the Sinai fortresses and analysis of archaeological and textual evidence will enable

89

Stuart Ibrahim identification of the structures at Tell el-Zuweyid and establish its role along the Ways of Horus. Late Bronze Age IIB sites often contain Egyptian cobra and female figurines, ceramics, jewellery, Senet boards and pieces, furniture and cosmetic kits (Mumford 2014: 76-77). While not every fortress contained traces of camps, those that do provide evidence of either troops or Bedouin groups occupying these sites. Evidence of such campsites suggests the site in question is a fortress. When trying to identify an Egyptian fortress, it is important to note that fortresses varied in size, from 40 x 40m at Bir el-Abd to 350 x 400m at Tjaru (Mumford 2013: 4). Tell el-Zuweyid During his excavations, Petrie (Petrie and Ellis 1937: 7-9) divided the earliest levels for Tell el-Zuweyid into Strata L-N. The Ben Gurion University and l’Ecole Biblique et Archeologique Français undertook excavations of the more recent strata in 1972-1982 and 1994-1995, respectively, but the earliest levels have only been briefly alluded to in various articles and theses. Gregory Mumford’s (1998: 1448-1499) case study of Tell el-Zuweyid, though, analyses these levels, further dividing them into PreStratum N (1-4), Stratum N (Pre-Stratum N5/ Stratum N1-2), M and L (1-3). Pre-Stratum N4, which Mumford (1998: 1451) dated to early Dynasty XVIII, based on in-situ early Late Bronze Age pilgrim flasks, contained 97.5cm of domestic debris, dark brown sand, burnt clay oven material and carbon traces, but Stratum N1 contains the earliest structural remains which can be analysed.

Figure 2: Site plan for Tell el-Zuweyid Stratum N (Petrie 1937: pl. xv) the former are also fortress walls (Morris 2005: 515, fig. 34; 525, fig. 35; 526; Al-Ayedi 2002b: 27, 39).

Stratum NThe site of Tell el-Zuweyid contained very few structural remains, human or natural causes having destroyed the rest; though what remains provides insight into the nature of this fortress. Stratum N1 primarily contained Wall-1, between levels 170-180, although hardly anything remains of this wall, while Stratum N2 primarily contained Walls-12 and 3 (Figure 2). Wall-12 is located in Area Y, levels 204216, 206-214 and 207-217, and Area T, levels 193-207 and 204-216, while Wall-3 juts off Wall-12 in Area Y, levels 208-212. Walls -2 and 4 are also notable structures from Stratum N2, their location suggesting they are enclosure walls. Wall-2 is located in Area W, levels 181-211, northeast of Walls-12 and 3, Wall-4 to the west of the site, in Areas P, levels 208-250, and E, levels 201-253 (Mumford 1998: 1454-1455, 1458-1459, 1462, 1464; Petrie and Ellis 1937: pl. XV). The post-construction for the latter two walls, between levels 181-253, and their distance from Walls-3 and 12, suggest they were contemporaneous.

The fortress at Tell Heboua II, located 1.5km southeast of Tjaru, is comprised of 4m thick mud-brick walls, roughly 100m long and preserved to 6-7 courses above ground level in height. These walls contain bastions and five buttresses at regular 12.2m intervals on all sides and two adjacent buttresses, possibly watchtowers, at each corner. While this site did not have a separate enclosure, there were enclosure walls, possibly belonging to the fortress, with 38 x 18 x 8cm bricks, laid alternatively in headers and stretchers (Al-Ayedi 2002b: 21).

Despite hardly anything of Tell el-Zuweyid Stratum N remaining, a comparison with settlements along the Ways of Horus found that the walls in Areas NT and NY share the same thickness and structural design as the fortress walls and the administrative centre at Tell Heboua II and Fortress A-289 at Tell el-Kharouba/ Hourbati, suggesting

90

.

The administrative complex, 40m north of the enclosure walls, in Zone B, include various rooms, paved with mud-brick, leading to open courtyards. These rooms were possibly used as granaries or administrative offices. The complex contained five furnaces and an industrial quarter outside the eastern walls and above the complex itself. A 1.8-2m wide enclosure wall also surrounded the complex (Al-Ayedi 2002b: 30-31). The furnaces had floors paved with compressed mud, containing traces of ash and other by-products of industrial activity, including charcoal and ceramic sherds. Furnace 1 cuts through the northern wall of the administrative complex, indicating the industrial quarter succeeded the administrative complex (Al-Ayedi 2002b: 36)

North Sinai during the LBA IIB-EIA Fortress A-289 at Tell el-Kharouba was 50 x 50m, covering 2, 500 square metres and also comprising a 4m thick enclosure wall, a gatehouse and a complex of compartments, the northern one containing a wide courtyard. The gatehouse was next to two 13 x 12m buttresses and had an entrance, 16m long and 13.7m wide. These two buttresses contained hollow cells, possibly for storage, which may have been accessed using ladders The northern buttress (Chamber L-141) also containing an adult male skeleton on its back with its arms over its head towards the north.

the fortress, and refuse pits. It also contained a 3m thick mud-brick wall with 44 x 22 x 12cm bricks laid side by side (Al-Ayedi 2002b: 75-76; Morris 2005: 296). A comparison of the related artefacts and remains at Tell el-Zuweyid Strata N2-M Areas X, A, B and M to those at Tell el-Kharouba and Tell Heboua II implies the former was an industrial quarter. The distance between the walls in Tell el-Zuweyid Stratum N Areas T and Y and the walls at levels 181-253, Walls 2 and 4, suggests the latter were enclosure walls. They bear the greatest similarity, in terms of structural plans, to the site of Tjaru, which also contains a fortress, 800 x 400m, a magazine/granary complex, an enclosure and a settlement (Hoffmeier and Moshier 2013: 499; Arnold 2003: 82). While the limited or absent remains at Tjaru, 4m east of Qantara, make it difficult to ascertain exact measurements for the fortress, the western wall was approximately 350m long and the northern wall 250m long. The main walls, 4m wide, use 40 x 20 x 10cm or 35 x 17.5 x 5cm bricks (Al-Ayedi 2002b: 12-14; Morris 2005: 804-809; Hoffmeier and Moshier 2013: 500-501; Arnold 2003: 82). The main fortress gate, situated on the western wall, was 12m wide, allowing only enough room for chariots and military paraphernalia. It contained slabs on both sides, two bastions projecting from the wall, and a paving, with 40 x 20 x 10cm bricks, three layers deep and extending into the fortress (Al-Ayedi 2002b: 14-16; Morris 2005: 58, foot-note 122; Arnold 2003: 82).

The complex also included storage magazines, cooking and baking installations and refuse pits, and residential units, many built against the enclosure wall (Oren 1994: 1390-1391; Al-Ayedi 2002: 92-95; Arnold 2003: 92). The enclosure walls contained two 4m buttresses, preserved to 1m in height, on the northern wall and north-east corner, which Oren (1987: 87; 1994: 1390) concluded, were also watchtowers. The walls were constructed with 45 x 22 x 12cm bricks, those in the first foundation being laid on edge while the second one comprised of alternating headers and stretchers (Al-Ayedi 2002: 93; Morris 2005: 513). Oren (1987: 87) also excavated a mud-brick structure, inside the enclosure wall’s north-east corner, which he concluded was a platform for a wooden staircase. There was a beaten earth floor between the two buttresses flanking the gatehouse, containing a narrow channel full of ash, possibly for drainage, in the centre. There was, eventually, a brick partition on the eastern end of the gatehouse, enclosing various structures and narrowing it down to 20cm in width, before the fortress fell into obsolescence (Oren 1987: 87, 92; 1994: 1390; Al-Ayedi 2002b: 93-95). Both Tell Heboua II and Tell el-Kharouba contained a fort, magazine and administrative complexes and an industrial quarter. Tell Heboua II, though, contained a settlement and no enclosure, while Tell el-Kharouba contained an enclosure and outlying settlements.

The main and secondary enclosure walls at this site were located, parallel with each other, 7m apart at the northeastern section and 4.5m on the north-east section, along the northern and western sides of the fortress, preserved to 10-17m in height. The western enclosure wall had a sand foundation, this being an Egyptian practice, while both the northern and western main walls had 4.45 x 2.2m bastions, 1.5m high, at 14.9m intervals, with ten bastions per side. While the secondary enclosure wall was 1.2m thick and only contained five bastions on the northern wall and nine on the western wall, this may be due to the deteriorated nature of the structure. This wall was preserved to 0.8m in height and 100m in length along the northern wall and 350m along the western wall (Al-Ayedi 2002b: 14-16; Morris 2005: 58).

The similarities between Fortress A-289 and other sites along the Ways of Horus, particularly Bir el-Abd, 70km east from el-Qantara, reinforce the notion that the forts in this area used a similar structural plan. Despite this, it is difficult to differentiate between the enclosure and the fortress at Tell el-Kharouba, the former merely being the outer fortifications of the latter, suggesting the enclosure included both buttresses and domestic structures.

Strata M-L Stratum M contained a narrow casemate room in Areas D-Y-V and an enclosed space in Areas C-D-F. The latter had a thin exterior wall (Wall-5.a) to the south, which Mumford (1998: 1472) theorised was either the accumulation of debris and/or a higher street level in this stratum. Room D-Y-V was situated between two parallel walls with a door at the northern end, possibly the eastern defensive walls, suggesting this site was fortified (Petrie and Ellis 1937: 8-9; Mumford 1998: 1467-1468, 1470-1472). The walls for this room ranged between levels 222-238 (Stratum M)-265 (Stratum L), 230-259, 224-243 (Stratum M)257(Stratum L), 211-237 (Stratum M)-259 (Stratum L), 203-225 (Stratum M)-246 (Stratum L), and levels 207,

The same is applicable for Bir el-Abd, which contains a fort, an enclosure, and a magazine/granary, within a central site, surrounded by 30 smaller settlements. While the excavations of this site, which the Ben Gurion University undertook during the North Sinai Survey, found the fortress remains were poorly preserved, enough was left, however, to confirm the fortress also contained a 4m thick enclosure wall, like Tell Heboua II. The excavations also uncovered a variety of other rooms and domestic installations, including rooms for cooking and baking, the magazine, with long parallel rooms, located to the south of 91

Stuart Ibrahim 208, 215-225 and 269 (Stratum M) and reaching levels 283, 287 and 267 in Stratum L (Petrie and Ellis 1937: pl.xiv; Mumford 1998: 1468). Area Y, in particular, was surrounded by Walls-9B (levels 243-247) and 10B (levels 262-267) and Area D contained a door sill at level 249, with hatching at the top, this being prevalent in Stratum L. There was also an additional wall between levels 213-265 (Mumford 1998: 1468-1469, 1476). Room D-Y-V also contained wall foundations, at levels 229-230 (Area D), belonging to either Strata M or L (Mumford 1998: 14681469). The dimensions for Room D-Y-V suggest the walls for Areas C and J, levels 257-266, 259-275, 271-294 and 274-290, and possibly in Area X, levels 182-208, form an elongated room (Figures 3 and 4).

later intrusions (Mumford 1998: 1479; fig. 2). There is evidence that both Strata L and M were cut at an angle, in Area E, which contained four levels of occupation, in preparation for the Stratum K wall (Petrie 1937: 9; Mumford 1998: 1478). Strata M-L Room C-D-F also shares wall thickness and structural design with Fortress A-289, while the walls in Areas C and J, levels 257-266, 259-275, 271-294 and 274-290, and possibly Area X, levels 182-208, seem to comprise a magazine complex, as the theoretical shape of this structure resembles the magazine complexes at Bir el-Abd and Tell el-Kharouba. Regarding the former site, the parallel rooms in the magazine contained broad open courtyards in front and mud-brick buttresses, to strengthen the inner walls and entrances (Oren 1973: 112113; 1987: 80, pl. A; 1994: 1389; Al-Ayedi 2002b: 76-77). The granary, located 40m south of the enclosure walls, contained four cylindrical silos, each preserved to 1.8m in height and comprised two concentric circles laid in header and stretcher fashion, with a 4m diameter and a domed roof. The size of the granary led Oren (1994: 1390; AlAyedi 2002b: 78) to theorise that it could have held up to 44, 600 litres or 40 tonnes of grain. The floors and walls were plastered and paved with 50cm thick mud-bricks, dark grey mortar joining them together, also in header and stretcher fashion (Oren 1973: 112-113; 1987: 80, pl. A; 1994: 1389; Al-Ayedi 2002b: 75-77). This suggests Room C-D-F and Areas C and J and X are both fortresses or that the latter formed an administrative room separate from the fortress. The presence of a cylindrical Egyptian bone tube with a duck’s head, a possible ‘Cypriot’ spindlewhorl, an “Egyptian” gypsum/alabaster flask or vase, and at least one spearhead or dagger, gives strength to the latter conclusion (Petrie and Ellis 1937: pl. XIV, XL, XLIX, figs 3-4; Ashton 1994: 52; Bass et al. 1989: 5; Morris 2005: 515, fig. 34; Al-Ayedi 2002b: 39, fig. 8; 98, fig. 23; 95; fig. 22).

Stratum M Room C-D-F contained a western wall, in Areas C and D, levels 197-206, 171-186, 189/205-212, 214-220 and 210-219; a southern wall, in Area D, levels 209-226, 211-221, 213-224 and 220-225; and a northern wall, between levels 215-223 (Petrie and Ellis 1937: pl. XIV). In Strata L0-L1, Walls-5B, 7B and 32 surrounded this room. Wall-5B was located in the southeast section, between levels 215-223, 221-242, 224-255, 225-246, 226/228-244, 7B in the northeast, between levels 219-224, 221-229 and 220-230, and with additional bases at levels 206 and 212, and Wall-32 to the north, having a base at level 224.Wall-20, inside the room, ranges between levels 226-237. The walls on the northwest side of Areas C and F reach levels 261, 212, 270 and 273, respectively, despite

.

The magazine complex at Tell el-Kharouba was also designed as a series of parallel elongated halls, three to the east, 3 x 10m, opening into a large courtyard, 20 x 15m, to the north. This courtyard had a compartment to the west and various other rooms, the latter possibly administrative offices, archives or simple dwellings. If these rooms were administrative offices or archives, this would provide insight into the infrastructure present at Tell el-Kharouba and the other Egyptian fortresses in this area. Two of these rooms, L.104 and L.108, were paved in brick, the floors containing a layer of mud-brick debris, from the period after the magazines were abandoned, and a thick layer of carbonised grain. The walls are preserved to 1m in height and coated in plaster. A partition wall, with entrances on both the northern and southern ends, also divided the courtyard (Oren 1994: 1390-1391; Arnold 2003: 92)

Figure 3: Site plan of Tell el-Zuweyid Stratum M (After Petrie 1937: pl. xiv)

92

North Sinai during the LBA IIB-EIA The administrative centre at the latter site, Building A-345, which dates to Dynasty XVIII, contained the magazine complex in the centre, an industrial quarter to the east and a case-mate walled building in the north-west section. A brick partition wall also separated the industrial quarter at this site from the magazine, possibly to prevent contamination from the smoke (Oren 1994: 1391; Al-Ayedi 2002: 91-92, 97-99; Arnold 2003: 92). The case-mate walled building was 25m long and had thin walls coated with plaster and mud-brick benches built against them, a rectangular courtyard, on the eastern side, with an entrance to the east (Oren 1994: 1391; Al-Ayedi 2002: 100-101). Its location outside the administrative building courtyard wall implies it functioned as an administration and reception area or even as a shrine (Al-Ayedi 2002: 101; Oren 1987: 99; 1994: 1391). The aforementioned similarities imply Tell el-Zuweyid contained an administrative complex within Room C-D-F at least within Strata M-L. Last of all, it should be noted the two parallel walls, on the right-hand side of Room D-Y-V, has a counterpart at the site of Tell el-Borg Fields IV and V, although this possibly reflects the two fortresses that were present in the latter site (Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud 2003: fig. 14). This further implies both that the parallel walls to the right of Room D-Y-V were possibly defensive walls and that Tell el-Zuweyid was fortified.

Figure 4: Site plan of Tell el-Zuweyid Stratum L (After Petrie 1937: pl. xiv)

The site of Tell el-Borg, which Hoffmeier (2003: 194-197), Morris (2005: 410-411), and Wernick (2011: 161), among other academics, equate with the ‘Dwelling of the Lion’ primarily contained two fortresses, in Fields IV, V and VIII. Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud (2004: 85) date them to Dynasties 18-19. The first fortress contained a corner of a large building, possibly a citadel, inside and west of Wall D and either above or outside the western wall, and a moat between the first and second fortresses. The citadel only contained one or two layers, 2m wide walls and triangular buttresses abutting the wall (Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud 2004: 93). The moat was c.120m long, 78m wide and 3m deep, sloping towards the base at a 45 degree angle, and contained a fired (red)-brick foundation, comprising nine to fourteen brick layers. The top in Field VIII (Square A2-A5) was 8m wide, that in Fields IV and V was 3m wide (Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud 2004: 91-97). The northern section of the moat started eroding, after turning west at the road, and eventually disappeared, the foundations for Square A5 being broken down and possibly used elsewhere (Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud 2004: 91-97). Hoffmeier (Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud 2004: 97-98; Sneh and Weissbrod 1937: 59-61; Hoffmeier and Moshier 2013: 503-504) concluded that the movement of the Pelusiac Nile Branch eroded the adjacent section of Tell el-Borg, causing the first fortress to be abandoned and the site to be relocated.

The presence of magazine complexes at Tell Heboua II, Bir el-Abd and Tell el-Kharouba and industrial quarters at Tell el-Kharouba and Tell Heboua II reinforces the notion that Egyptian fortresses followed a general structural plan, only differing in minor details (Oren 1994: 1391; Al-Ayedi 2002b: 21). Mumford’s (2013: 5) analysis of Pharaonic period Egyptian fortresses suggests the same conclusion. Wall-16, from Stratum L1, was situated in Area S, level 242, while Area C also contained an adjacent door-sill at level 243. Areas C, J, P, E, S and M1 were all unoccupied during Stratum L2, although Walls-17 and 18 partially covered Areas C and J. The foundations for Walls-17, 18, 8B, 10B, 14B and 15B suggest they were all constructed during Stratum L2. Wall-8B, the northern wall for Area D, for example, had a range between levels 268-283 and 259287 (Mumford 1998: 1484-1485, 1487-1488, 1491; Petrie and Ellis 1937: 9). The Stratum L walls, particularly for Room C-D-F, and the Stratum M walls in Areas X (levels 182-208), C and J (levels 257-266, 259-275, 271-294 and 274-290), and P (levels 244-267, 247-270, on the main wall, levels 251273 on the adjacent wall), all resemble the walls for the administrative complexes at Tell Heboua II and Tell elKharouba (Al-Ayedi 2002b: 39, fig. 8; 98, fig. 23; Petrie 1937: pl. XIV; figs 3-4).

The Ramesside fortress was only situated in Fields IV and V, unlike the earlier one. The construction of a modern canal divided this fortress into Fields IV and V, destroying half of the stronghold walls, including the west end of Wall

  Stratum L2 Area M was filled with broken bricks, packed earth and the remains of the first brick causeway on the site (Mumford 1998: 14841485, 1487-1488, 1491; Petrie and Ellis 1937: 9).

1

93

Stuart Ibrahim C (Hoffmeier and Moshier 2013: 502-503; Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud 2004: 100).Walls C and D, 3.8m apart, formed the south-west corner for the fortress, near the modern bridge. They both used 38 x 18 x 9cm bricks, with those on the outside wall being laid in stretchers, eight across. Wall C, which only contained one to four brick courses, being 3.4-3.6cm wide, was traced 50m eastward to the north-east corner, placing both south-west and northeast corners 106m apart, before turning 90 degrees south and continuing 33m to the gate (Hoffmeier and Moshier 2013: 502-503; Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud 2004: 9697, 100). Hoffmeier (Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud 2004: 100) theorised, based on the possibility that all the corners were square that each side may have been c. 70m long and the entire fortress may have covered c. 6240m. The front of the fortress, in Field V, was approximately 80m, from corner to corner (Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud 2004: 96-97; Wernick 2011: 161). The area of the gate only contained foundation trenches for the surrounding towers, with only three in-situ talatat blocks present (Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud 2004: 93,100; Ertman and Hoffmeier 2007: 39). The second fortress also contained a possible well or cistern, cut into the outer wall of Fosse D, east of the moat in Field IV (D14) and within the fortress walls (Hoffmeier and Abd el-Maksoud 2004: 99; Wernick 2011: 161).

industrial quarter. Although there is nothing to suggest the Stratum N remains contained similar structures, it is still plausible. The similarities between Tell el-Zuweyid and Bir el-Abd and Tell el-Kharouba suggest this site was an nhtw–fortress. The structures present in the Sinai fortresses and their role in Egyptian foreign relations further support this conclusion. If Tell el-Zuweyid was the ‘Well of MenMaat-Re’, it seems to have been one of many fortified way-stations, guarding a nearby well, and monitoring all who used this route. Considering the Pre-Stratum N4 traces were only located in Area X, Stratum N1 theoretically would have contained additional structures which were destroyed during the decline of Stratum N2 or the construction of Stratum M. The fact that Walls-3 and 12 have ranges between levels 193 and 217, while Wall-4 ranged between levels 201-253 and Wall-2 had a base between levels 181-186 and reached levels 211-214, suggests all four walls were contemporaneous. At the very least, the first three would have been constructed between levels 206-208, while Wall2 either was constructed earlier or had deeper foundations. The continuing post-construction debris in Stratum N2 suggests Strata N1-N2 belongs to the one settlement. The similarity in wall thickness between the walls in Tell elZuweyid Stratum N2 and the forts at Tell Heboua II, Tell el-Kharouba, and the administrative centre at Tell Heboua II implies this stratum contained a reasonably large settlement, which Egypt considered significant. Stratum N2 seem to have been destroyed in a conflagration and temporarily rebuilt before being abandoned until the construction of Stratum M.

The location of Tell el-Zuweyid between Tell el-Kharouba and Raphia suggests Tell el-Zuweyid may be the Egyptian fortress referred to on the Karnak relief as the “Well of Men-Maat-Re” and in P. Anastasi I as “the Khas/Khas of the Chief” (P. Anastasi I; c.f. Al-Ayedi 2002a: 117-118). While the French archaeologist, Joseph Cledat (1915: 15-48), came to the same conclusion, he was only able to reach the Roman-period strata. Although neither the Karnak relief nor P. Anastasi I provide additional information about this fortress, besides the aforementioned names, the limited remains within the early levels do resemble traces of a fortified site. Walls-2 and 4 and 3 and 12 are, especially, far enough from each other to be indicative of a fortress and enclosure walls. Petrie and Ellis’(1937: 8) excavations of this site uncovered water 2.8m below Stratum M and found a deep sounding in Area X that did not contain any earlier confirmed structures, suggesting a well was established here. As Pre-Stratum N2 only contained an Egyptian drop-shaped goblet and both Pre-Strata N1 and N2 comprised of a clayey substance/dark brown sand, the inhabitants of Tell el-Zuweyid possibly established a well in the former period, until they abandoned the site.

Regarding Stratum M, the fact that the walls on the righthand side of Room D-Y-V may be defensive would place the site enclosure wall and possibly the outer fortifications for the settlement in Strata M-L in this area. It is also evident the remains in Stratum L generally retained the same plan as for Stratum M, as is evident in Room D-Y-V and Areas P and E. The presence of additional brick courses for Room D-Y-V, Room C-D-F and Areas P and E in this level indicates the room was renovated and rebuilt at one point, possibly for security reasons. The wall in Area X had a range between levels 208-215/ 230, suggesting it were originally constructed in Stratum N2 or just after it were abandoned, confirming Rooms D-Y-V and C-D-F represent the primary structures for Stratum M. This conclusion reveals three things: a) They confirm Petrie and Ellis’ conclusion that the early levels at Tell el-Zuweyid date to the Late Bronze Age period;

Conclusions The previous analysis confirms Tell el-Zuweyid Strata N-L comprises an Egyptian fortress. The walls in Strata N1-N2 and Strata M-L Room C-D-F are indicative of the fortress and enclosure walls along the Ways of Horus. The latter area, besides Stratum M Areas C, J and X, also resembled magazine or administrative complexes. This suggests Strata M-L contained a fortress, possibly comprising an administrative complex, a magazine and an

b) They help trace the Ways of Horus fortress chain, by establishing the most likely location of the ‘Well of Men-Maat-Re’ fortress; c) Confirming Tell el-Zuweyid is the ‘Well of Men-Maat-Re’ fortress will convey something 94

North Sinai during the LBA IIB-EIA

Figure 1: Map of the Ways of Horus (after Morris 2005, 396, fig. 28) Aston, D. A., 1996, Egyptian pottery of the late new kingdom and third intermediate period (twelfth - seventh centuries BC): tentative footsteps in a forbidding terrain, Heidelberger Orientverlag, Hiedelberg: 52 Bass, G. F. et al., 1989, ‘The Bronze Age Shipwreck at Ulu Burun: 1986 Campaign’, American Journal of Archaeology vol.93 (1): 5 (?) Braun, E., 2014, ‘Reflections on the context of a late Dynasty 0 Egyptian Colony in the Southern Levant: interpreting some evidence of Nilotic material culture at select sites in the Southern Levant (ca. 3150 BCE– ca. 2950 BCE)’, The Nile Delta as a centre of cultural interactions between Upper Egypt and the Southern Levant in the 4th millennium BC Cledat, J., 1915“Fouilles a Cheikh Zouede”, ASAE 15 (1915), 15-48. Cohen, S. 2012, ‘Tel Mor. The Moshe Dothan Excavations, 1959–1960 by Tristan Barako’, Journal of Near Eastern Studies, Vol. 71 (1): 159-160 Gardiner, A. H. 1920, ‘The Ancient Military Road between Egypt and Palestine’, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology vol. 6 (2): 99, 103-104 Hoffmeier, J., 2004, ‘Tell el-Borg on Egypt’s Eastern Frontier: A Preliminary Report on the 2002 and 2004 Seasons’, Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt, vol. 41: 85-111

about the role the majority of fortresses in this area performed in relation to Egyptian foreign relations. The second point is of particular interest. If it is correct, this would mean all the fortresses east of Tell el-Kharouba have been accounted for, leaving only those sites between Buto of Seti-Merenptah and Bir el-Abd to be identified. Given the different structures at these sites, it is clear these forts had additional roles. The presence of exterior settlements at Bir el-Abd alone, for example, would suggest that certain sites would serve as places where an army on the march would camp overnight before moving on. Tell el-Zuweyid, though, lacks evidence of additional campsites. Finally, this conclusion reinforces the great importance Egypt placed on this region and their desire to protect both their northern/eastern border and the related trade routes. Bibliography Al - Ayedi, A. R., 2000, Tharu: The starting point on the “Ways of Horus”, Thesis (M.A.)--University of Toronto (Canada), UMI Dissertations Publishing Bottom of Form 1 Al-Ayedi, A. R., 2002, The “Ways of Horus” in the ancient Egyptian records and archaeology Volume I: The inscriptions. Volume II: The archaeology, University of Toronto (Canada), UMI Dissertations Publishing Arnold, D. 2003, The Encyclopaedia of Ancient Egyptian Architecture, N. Strudwick and H. Strudwick (eds.), Princeton, NJ

Hoffmeier, J., 2006, ‘“The Walls of the Ruler” in Egyptian Literature and the Archaeological Record: Investigating Egypt’s Eastern Frontier in the Bronze Age’, Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, Issue 343: 1-20 Hoffmeier, JK, M ,Abd El-Maksoud, 2003, ‘A new military site on ‘The Ways of Horus’ - Tell El-Borg 199-2001: A 95

Stuart Ibrahim preliminary report’, Journal Of Egyptian Archaeology, Vol.89, pp.169-197 Hoffmeir, J., S. Moshier, 2013, ‘a highway out of Egypt’, F. Förster, H. Riemer, Desert Road Archaeology in Ancient Egypt and Beyond, Institute of Prehistory and Early History of the University of Cologne: 498-501 Kochavi, M., 1981, ‘The history and archeology of AphekAntipatris’ Biblical Archaeologist 44 (2): 75-86 Morris, E. F., 2001, The architecture of imperialism: An investigation into the role of fortresses and administrative headquarters in New Kingdom foreign policy, Brill Publisher, Boston Mumford, G. D. 1998, International relations between Egypt, Sinai, and Syria-Palestine during the Late Bronze Age to Early Persian period (dynasties 18-26: c.1550-525 B.C.), a spatial and temporal analysis of the distribution and proportions of Egyptian(izing) artefacts and pottery in Sinai and selected sites in SyriaPalestine, National Library of Canada = Bibliothèque nationale du Canada Mumford, G, 2012, ‘Forts, Pharoanic Egypt’, Encyclopedia of ancient history, Roger S Bagnall (ed); Wiley Online Library: 3-4 Mumford, G, 2014, ‘Egypt and the Levant’, Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of the Levant, M.L.

Steiner, A. E. Killebrew (eds.), Oxford University Press, UK: 76-78 Oren, E. D., 1973, “Bir el-Abd, Northern Sinai”, IEJ 23, Israel Exploration Society: 112-13 Oren, E. D., 1987 ‘Way of Horus in North Sinai’, A. F. Rainey (ed.), Egypt, Israel, Sinai : archaeological and historical relationships in the biblical period, Tell Aviv University: 69-126 Oren, E. D., 1993, ‘Ostrakine; Qasrawet; Ruqeish; Sinai’, The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land, E. Stern (ed.), Hebrew University of Jerusalem Petrie, W. M. F. (William Matthew Flinders), Sir, 18531942. J. C Ellis, 1937, Anthedon, Sinai, London, British School of Archaeology, Worcester, UK:Yare Egyptology Sneh, A., T. Weissbrod, 1973, “Nile Delta: the Defunct Pelusiac Branch identified”, Science 180: 59-61 Wernick, W. 2011, ‘The images of fortifications in the Sety I battle reliefs: comparing art and archaeology’, J. Corbelli, D. Boatright, C. Malleson (eds.), Current Research in Egyptology Symposium 2009, Oxford ; Oakville, Oxbow Books: 158-161

96

New evidence from the Third Intermediate Period temple at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis Richard J. Long Abstract The temple at Mut el-Kharab in Dakhleh Oasis is one of the most significant sites in Egypt’s Western Desert.  Excavations by Monash University’s Centre for Archaeology and Ancient History have been occurring since 2000 and have revealed an incredibly long history of occupation, with material demonstrating activity from the Old Kingdom through to the Roman Period and beyond.  For the Third Intermediate Period, however, the archaeological record has remained somewhat silent.  This is especially surprising considering the Greater and Smaller Dakhleh Stele, which were purchased in the nearby area over 100 years ago, both refer to a fully functioning Pharaonic temple at the site during this period.  Fortunately, recent fieldwork has made some exciting discoveries.  With the corpus of Third Intermediate Period material slowing increasing, the 2011 season unearthed an archive of ostraca in Trench 38 relating to religious offerings and temple administration; preliminary analysis suggests these can be dated to sometime during the Libyan and Nubian phases of the Third Intermediate Period, namely Dynasties XXII to XXV.  Additionally, ceramics and other small finds from the same trench appear to be of similar date.  This paper will provide an update of these recent Third Intermediate Period finds, with a particular focus on the ceramics and how they can help to date this part of the site and improve our understanding of its possible function.  Moreover, well dated Third Intermediate Period material in general is rare and these discoveries may provide a unique insight into this complex and obscure phase of Egyptian history.

Introduction

an account of an oracular decree in the temple of Seth concerning a dispute over water rights (Gardiner 1933, 19-30). The identification of precisely which Shoshenq, however, has been the subject of much debate. Both Breasted (1906, 359-361) and Gardiner (1933, 19-30) proposed Shoshenq I as the ruler in question, a claim which has received widespread support (most recently Kraus 2005, 43-48; Kaper 2009, 149). Nevertheless, arguments in favour of Shoshenq III have been put forward (JacquetGordon 1979, 180-182; Osing 1985, 229, n.4), but as Leahy (2010, 45-53) has surmised, unequivocal evidence for either monarch is still lacking. The Smaller Dakhleh Stela, on the other hand, dates to Year 24 of King Piye and records the giving of temple offerings (Janssen 1968, 16572). In recent years, a third stela from Dakhleh has been identified. Dating from sometime during the 22nd and 23rd Dynasties, it contains a funerary inscription dedicated to a priest of Seth named Khai (van Zoest and Kaper 2006, 24-25).

The site of Mut al-Kharab is located in the central part of Dakhleh Oasis in Egypt’s Western Desert (Fig. 1). Current conclusions suggest the site was occupied for at least 3500 years and may have been involved in the initial annexation of Dakhleh by the Egyptian state, as indicated by the discovery of indigenous Sheikh Muftah pottery together with both Early Dynastic and early Old Kingdom material (Hope and Pettman 2012, 147-165). The site’s importance, however, seems to have stemmed from it housing a prominent temple to Seth, Lord of the Oasis, and other associated deities in later periods. Although limited finds have revealed an earlier Middle Kingdom installation in honour of the god Igai (Hope and Kaper 2010, 219-245), there is clear evidence of New Kingdom monuments dedicated to Seth and Amun (Long 2008, 95110; Hope and Kaper 2011, 219-236). From this time onwards, the site experienced substantial occupation, including both destruction and rebuilding phases. As such, excavations have unearthed considerable remains of the temple, including architectural fragments, decorated blocks, inscriptions, ostraka and ceramics, all of which demonstrate significant activity from the New Kingdom through to Roman times (Hope 2001, 29-46; 2003, 51-76; Hope et al. 2009, 47-86; Hope and Kaper 2011, 219-236; Hope forthcoming).

Mut al-Kharab was the likely capital of Dakhleh Oasis from at least the Third Intermediate Period onwards (Hope 2001, 43). Current excavations have unearthed numerous decorated blocks which demonstrate the site’s close association with the state administration during this era. Kaper (2009, 154-158) has identified scenes and inscriptions relating to the High Priest of Amun of the 21st Dynasty, while two blocks seem to derive from a gateway representing a Sed-festival. Although complete royal names are missing, the occurrence of a fragmentary cartouche bearing a scarab beetle indicates a Libyan ruler. Taking into account the extant evidence of jubilee festivals from this time, Osorkon I and Shoshenq I are the most likely candidates (Kaper 2009, 158). Either way, the inclusion of Sed-festival scenes at the Mut al-Kharab temple is noteworthy. It highlights the importance of the site, not only within Dakhleh Oasis, but the Western

For the Third Intermediate Period, the two most important textual sources are the Greater Dakhleh Stela and the Smaller Dakhleh Stela. Both sandstone stelae were purchased in 1894 by British Army Captain Henry Lyons in Dakhleh Oasis. Among many things, they reveal the existence of a fully functioning Egyptian temple, together with its associated administration, during both Dynasties XXII and XXV (Mills 1999, 176). The Greater Dakhleh Stela, dated to Year 5 of a king named Shoshenq, provides

97

Richard J. Long Desert in general, and illustrates a strong connection with the royal family during the Libyan Period.

examples were inscribed on both the interior and exterior surfaces and appeared to be written by the same person. As it would have been impossible to record these texts when the vessel was complete, these ostraka indicate the jar was broken, perhaps deliberately, and the individual sherds used to record the provision lists (Vittmann forthcoming).

Excavations – Trench 38 When excavations commenced in 2001 it was expected that extensive Third Intermediate Period remains would be revealed, in particular due to the aforementioned stelae (Hope 2001, 29, 35). Although some inscribed blocks (including those described previously) and ceramics from the period have been identified, they have all been from disturbed contexts and possess no direct indicators of precise dates (Hope 2003, 53, 56, 58-61); the corpus certainly did not seem to represent the temple activity described in the Dakhleh Stelae. In 2011, Trench 38 was opened in the area directly west of the temple proper (Figs 2 and 3). Excavations revealed part of a structure built of yellow mud-brick walls, comprising 3 separate rooms, which seemed to be associated with a dense layer of red packing that covered the trench (Hope 2012, 3-4). The layout of these partitions resulted in the division of the trench into three sections labelled Squares A, B, and C (from west to east). A later phase, which utilised grey mud-bricks, was also apparent through the alteration of walls, doorways and the clearance of a possible corridor or walkway. Numerous robbers’ pits, presumably from more recent times,1 occurred in sections A and C of the trench, clearly illustrating the disturbed nature of remains at this part of the site.

Preliminary examination of this extensive collection has been undertaken by Gunter Vittmann, and produced some very interesting results. The majority of the inscriptions are Hieratic2 and cover a fairly short period of time. Unfortunately, no royal names are mentioned in the corpus. Nevertheless, Vittmann’s palaeographical analysis of the texts suggests a range of 750-650 BCE, with the first half of that century being more likely. With regard to the Third Intermediate Period, the inscriptions would thus date to sometime between the final phase of Dynasty XXII and Dynasty XXV; the very beginning of Dynasty XXVI is also within this timeframe. Interestingly, most ostraka discovered previously at Mut al-Kharab were written in Demotic (and thus dated to the Late and Ptolemaic Periods), with only a small number occurring in the earlier Hieratic. For the Square B deposit, however, the opposite is true, with most bearing the earlier script. The content of these inscriptions is therefore extremely valuable.

Fortunately the clearance of surface material and rubble revealed a well-sealed deposit of miscellaneous material within the central part of the trench (Square B). Comprising an extensive archive of ostraka, ceramic vessels (a number of which were complete) and some small finds, the deposit spanned 3 different archaeological layers. The upper part (Context 16) was a dense deposit of mud-brick rich fill, which was overlying both a thinly compacted layer (Context 32) and a floor (Context 15). These deposits were by no means undisturbed, but Contexts 32 and 15 appeared to be closely related and well-sealed by the overlying and compacted Context 16. Indeed preliminary analysis seems to date these artefacts to the Third Intermediate Period, supporting a certain level of uniformity across the three layers in this part of the trench. An overview and analysis of this material is therefore necessary to better understand Third Intermediate Period activity at Mut al-Kharab.

The majority of the texts relate to wine offerings within an Egyptian temple setting. Seth and his consort Nephthys are the most prominent recipients, although references to Amun, Thoth, Isis and Osiris do occur (Vittman forthcoming). Numerous personal names are also mentioned as demonstrated by ostrakon 38/69+113, which lists people who are about to receive provisions. Some of the individuals are Tanetdies daughter of Horudja, Hahat (son of) Sethirdis, Peteese (son of) Ankhhor, Khaas son of Ankhhor, and Nakhttefmut (Vittman forthcoming). In addition, several texts are legal documents and letters. Examples include ostrakon 38/57 which implies some kind of contract involving the vintner H[arwar], and ostrakon 38/140 which is a letter referring to a sum of money from “Years 25-29”. With regard to the latter, the high regnal dates limit the identification of the ruler in question, especially considering the date of this archive based on palaeographical evidence. As outlined by Vittmann (forthcoming), candidates include Shoshenq V (c.783- 746 BCE), Piankhi (c. 753-723 BCE), or Psamtek I (664-610 BCE).3

The Ostraka

Small finds

Within Square B of Trench 38 an archive of approximately 100 ostraka was unearthed. Amongst this collection were some extremely large examples, including 38/129+109 which was made up of eight separate sherds and measured 50cm in height (Vittmann forthcoming). In addition, five separate ostraka, comprising closely-related texts about receiving provisions, also joined together to form a signification portion of a large jar. More importantly, these

Associated with the Square B archive were other miscellaneous artefacts. Foremost of these were 10 fragments from a faience lotiform chalice (Fig. 4a). Vessels of this type are known from the New Kingdom through to the Third Intermediate Period, but their discovery within   According to Vittman (forthcoming), the exact classification of the script is debatable. It could be defined as either a variant of Abnormal Hieratic or documentary Late Hieratic. 3   Vittman has taken these dates from Hornung et al. (2006, 494). 2

  Trench 38 field journal by Luke Falvey and Josh Emmett.

1

98

New evidence from the Third Intermediate Period temple at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis excavated contexts is very rare (Gallorini and Reeves 1998, 225). According to Bianchi (1998, 225), the earlier 18th Dynasty examples appear to be heavier, with wider mouths, short stems and simplistic floral reliefs. In contrast, the Third Intermediate Period vessels were more elaborate, possessing complex decorative schemes, such as the well-known Carnarvon Chalice of Dynasty XXII, which bears three detailed registers of marshland scenes. The significance of these vessels is further reinforced by the role of the lotus in Egyptian society; closely associated with notions of rebirth, it was deeply embedded within the canon of Egyptian art and symbolism (Friedman 1998, 224; Gallorini and Reeves 1998, 225). This is highlighted by numerous examples of both elaborate and well-preserved lotiform chalices that exist in many museum collections. In most cases, however, these were purchased privately, thus details regarding their provenance and date can be rather vague.4

object of note is a copper alloy calf figure (Fig. 4d). It is 8.4cm long, 4.9cm high and 3.4cm wide; the animal is in a recumbent position, although the rear left leg and right horn and ear are missing. It is distinct because of its heavy weight, which may indicate a lead core. As such it may have been used together with a set of scales as a measuring device; within a temple context, it could have been used for the weighing of offerings or produce. Animal weights are well-known from the Nile Valley, particularly from the New Kingdom, with bovid forms being the most common (Kozloff 1992, 428). A similar example is in the Petrie Museum,8 while weights in the form of cattle or the head of a bull occur in scenes depicting the measuring of gold and other commodities in numerous Theban Tombs, including Ramose (Kozloff 1992, 429, Fig 116a) and Rekhmire (Freed 1981, 16-17, Fig. 25).

The fragments from the Mut al-Kharab chalice show the vessel had a double ridge on the exterior rim, and modelled decoration depicting two alternating motifs – an open blue lotus flower, flanked by buds on stems and an open papyrus umbel, again flanked by buds on stems. These are separated by upward-tapering lotus petals with central veining. With regard to parallels, an example in the British Museum from Tuna el-Gebel in Middle Egypt bears a similar tapering profile (Vandiver 1982, 147-148). Dated to Dynasties XX-XXI, it also has a simple floral motif comprising, in this case, only upward tapering lotus petals. Comparable decorative schemes can also be seen on a chalice from Thebes, now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which dates to Third Intermediate Period, and depicts larger lotus petals with central veining separated by smaller papyrus umbels.5 A 22nd Dynasty example in the Louvre also bears a similar design, although its rectangular mouth appears unique.6

In addition to the ostraka and the small finds, the Square B deposit comprised a significant number of ceramic vessels, some of which were complete. This category of evidence is particularly useful because it may help to not only date this deposit, but also clarify the nature of activity at this part of the site. It must be noted that this is a preliminary investigation of the Trench 38 Square B ceramics as the material is yet to be viewed by the author firsthand. This analysis is therefore based on the available data, including excavation reports and the pottery drawings of only selected examples. Nevertheless, a comprehensive study of the Trench 38 material is planned for a future season; by recording all the pottery, a more detailed understanding of the forms, fabrics and wares will thus help to further refine the date of this deposit and more accurately explain the nature of activity at this part of the site.

Ceramics

It is necessary to compare the Trench 38 pottery with similar vessels from other locations, especially the Nile Valley and Delta, with a particular focus on form, rather than fabric. This is because all of the Mut al-Kharab material in question is made from local oasis fabrics, and thus differs from its Nile Valley counterparts. As such, the Dakhleh Oasis Project classification system divides fabrics into iron-rich and calcium-rich groups (Hope 2004, 102-104), which are then further categorised based on their surface treatment. The fabrics of the examples discussed in this paper, together with their relevant wares, are outlined in Table 1.

Other objects from the Square B deposit include a small, intact faience jar, a metal stamp and a calf figure. The turquoise faience jar (Fig. 4b) is 12.9cm high and has a modelled rim, inclined neck, tapering lower body and rounded base. It is well-preserved and contains simple decoration around the neck, including a motif of alternating upright and inverted open lotus flowers. Three small bands of vertical lines, intended to produce a beading effect, also occur around the upper half of the vessel. The copper alloy stamp (Fig. 4c) is in the shape of a cartouche and measures just over 10cm in height. It bears a hieroglyphic inscription on one side which reads: imn re nb tA xAst (Amun Re, Lord of the Land (Egypt) and Foreign Territory).7 The final of

The process of comparing the forms of the Trench 38 examples with parallels from the Nile Valley and Delta has relied heavily on the work of Aston (1996; 1999), whose comprehensive collation and analysis of Third Intermediate Period pottery has made a significant contribution to better understanding material from this time. In particular, Aston’s dating phases have shown that ceramics from this

  Examples from the Metropolitan Museum of Art (accession numbers 26.7 976 and 26.7 980) are dated to Dynasties XXI-XXV, a period of some 500 years (http://www.metmuseum.org/collections/search-thecollections/553662), accessed 20/01/14. 5   See No. 4 above - Metropolitan Museum of Art, accession number 26.7 976. 6   Louvre, E 11349, http://www.louvre.fr/en/oeuvre-notices/chalice-formlotus, accessed 20/1/2014. 7   A preliminary search through Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen for a reference to this particular epithet was 4

unsuccessful, thus more investigation is required. 8   Petrie Museum, accession number UC2302, http://petriecat.museums. ucl.ac.uk/detail.aspx?parentpriref=, accessed 16/3/2014.

99

Richard J. Long era do not adhere directly to the dynastic system of dating Egyptian history (Aston 1996, 59, 87-89; 1999, 1). As such, Aston’s Phase IIA (Late New Kingdom, Dynasties XXXXI), Phase IIB (the Libyan Period, 10th century – mid 8th century BCE) and Phase III (mid 8th century – 7th century BCE) are relevant to this study. A selection of parallels for the Trench 38 examples is provided in Table 2. A selection of vessels from Contexts 16 and 32 of Square B is shown in Figure 5. The small cup/bowl in Figure 5a seems to date to Phase III of the Third Intermediate Period, based on parallels from Lahun (Petrie et al. 1923, pl. LIX, Type 30; Aston 1996, 38), and at least four complete examples were retrieved from Context 32. Figure 5b is a cream-slipped, shallow flat-based dish, a form that is well-documented at all sites containing material from this time. Work at Elephantine shows it occurs in Libyan Period levels (Aston 1999, 69, pl. 15.495-6), but is far more common in the succeeding Phase III (Aston 1999, 165-6, pl. 48.1515-37). Two examples of Figure 5c were identified in Context 32, namely deep bowls with inflected contours. This form is again characteristic of all three phases of Aston’s Third Intermediate Period pottery typology (Aston 1996, 60, 67 and 73, figs 188a-d, 206i-j and 216d-h); the closest parallels, however, can be found at Elephantine and date to Phase IIB and III respectively (Aston 1999, 116, 164, pls 33.1011 and 48.1504). Figure 5d is a red-slipped bowl from Context 16, which has an out-turned rim and most likely a ring base. A similar uncoated vessel was found in Context 32, with both forms being comparable to 25th Dynasty examples from Amarna (French 1986, 157, fig 9.18-MB2). Figure 5e is a cup/beaker with a protruding base and is well-represented at Third Intermediate Period sites in the Nile Valley. The most similar parallel, bearing a slightly rounded base, comes from Elephantine and is dated to Phase IIB (Aston 1999, 70, pl 16.509), but as Aston (1996, 68, figs 207e-f) outlines, these vessels developed flat bases and became more common during Phase III. Figure 5f is an imitation situla, four examples of which have been currently identified within this deposit (two each in both Context 16 and 32). Figure 5g is a spouted jar with a ring base, with two complete vessels found in Context 16. Exact parallels for this form are difficult to find in the Nile Valley, although numerous examples have been recovered from both Trench 6 at Mut al-Kharab (directly north-east of Trench 38; see Figure 3) and a nearby two-roomed tomb in the cemetery 31/405-F9-3, which was briefly explored during the survey of Dakhleh Oasis. In both instances, Hope (2004, 105, 107-8, figs 2k, 6p-q, 7k-l) has dated these vessels to Aston’s Phase III. Finally, a large cream-slipped neckless jar (Fig. 5h) was reconstructed from numerous ostraka unearthed in Context 32. Similar examples dating to Aston’s Phase III are known from Matmar and Abyos, with the latter having more pronounced shoulders (Aston 1996, 44-45, fig. 127.1000-47H; Effland et al. 2010, 53, fig. 35.11).

In addition to the Square B deposit, a significant collection of ceramics was also retrieved from Square A in Trench 38, namely the room directly to the west. This material was found within a layer of red silty packing (Context 28), which seemed to relate to the yellow mud brick walls that formed the Trench 38 structure. The pottery cache included some intact vessels and seemed to bear some similarities with the Square B deposit; it was, however, from a deeper layer of occupation, and its equivalent level (Context 18) was underlying the ostraka archive in Square B. A brief discussion of selected examples will help to provide a broader understanding of activity within Trench 38. Two forms in Square A have parallels from the Square B assemblage. These are small cups/bowls (Fig. 5a) and shallow flat-based dishes (Fig. 5b), where at least 2 vessels of each were retrieved. In contrast to Square B, New Kingdom forms were present in Square A. These include fragments from a funnel-necked storage jar bearing simple blue-painted floral decoration on a red slip (Fig. 6a). Similar examples have been previously unearthed in Trench 13 at the site (Long 2007, 75-76, fig. 50), while Nile Valley parallels from Malkata (Hope 1989a, figs 3g, 3h, and 10d) and Amarna (Frankfort and Pendlebury 1933, pl. LII, nos XIII.8 and XIII.9; Hope 1991, figs 8e, 11a, 12b, 20h-I; Rose 2007, 103-104, 106, nos 442, 443 and 460) indicate a date during the second half of the 18th Dynasty. The cream-slipped bread mould in Figure 6b fits well within Jacquet-Gordon’s (1981, 18-20, fig. 5) Type D typology and thus can also be dated to the New Kingdom. Again, numerous examples have been found at Mut alKharab, either on the surface or in disturbed contexts (Long 2008, 98-103, Fig. 2). Larger moulds from Karnak North, though, show that similar types were used until at least Dynasty XXI (Jacquet-Gordon 1981, 18, fig. 5.13-14), while flat-based examples from Elephantine may indicate this form continued into Phases IIB and III (Aston 1999, 70, 194, pls. 16.510 and 59.1766). Figure 6c illustrates a cream-slipped bowl bearing red decoration and a distinct rim described by Aston (1999, 58) as “crenellated”. While elaborate examples are known from the New Kingdom (Spencer 1993, 45, pl. 55, type B1.8; Rose 2007, 70, 210, no. 236), a fragmentary vessel from Elephantine shows that a more simple variation of this feature continued into the Libyan Period (Aston 1999, 58, 74, pls 13.355 and 17.534). A comparable rim fragment from a bowl was also uncovered in Trench 34 at Mut al-Kharab, together with ceramics and architectural features associated with Third Intermediate Period activity (Hope et al. 2009, 53-57). The remaining forms from Context 28 of Square A are also difficult to date accurately, but nonetheless are significant due to their association with religious activities at the site. Figures 6d-e are so called “beer jars”, a term coined by Holthoer (1977, 86) and later modified by Aston (1996, 182), in reference to the beer offerings in the Htp di nsw formula with which these vessels were originally believed to have been associated. At least 19 examples have thus far been identified in this context. All were roughlymade, were cream-slipped or uncoated, and possessed 100

New evidence from the Third Intermediate Period temple at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis asymmetrical dimensions and finger marks on the bases; all four types of Hubschmann’s (2010, 56-59, fig. 2) beer jar rim typology were present. Evidently, specific dates for this form are difficult to refine because extensive assemblages are known from the New Kingdom to the Third Intermediate Period (Aston 1999, 15-16). The poor manufacture of the Square A vessels allows comparisons with examples from Herakleopolis, although the latter tend to be smaller and only have unrestricted mouths. Nevertheless, one beer jar in particular is very similar to the one presented in Figure 6d and, like the rest of the Herakleopolis deposit, has been dated to Phases II-III, namely the 9th century to the early Saite Period (Lopez Grande and Quesada 1992, 417-19; Aston 1996, 40-41, fig. 88.3). Figure 6e, however, possesses no neck and has an inverted rim, characteristics which seem to suggest an 18th Dynasty date according to Nile Valley parallels (Hope 1989a, fig. 2f; Jacquet-Gordon 2012, fig. 59a). Finally, offering stands and braziers are illustrated in Figures 6f-h. These were either red or cream-slipped and examples from Malkata show that both forms occurred during the New Kingdom (Hope 1989a, fig. 5d; 1989b, 9h); similar forms from Kafr Ammar and Hermopolis though, may indicate use during Aston’s Phase III (Aston 1996, 356, 41-2, figs 74.29 and 108.116). It is worth noting that large numbers of both have been unearthed at Mut al-Kharab in deposits which associated material suggests should be dated to the Third Intermediate Period or early Late Period (Hope 2003, figs 6g, 6i, 7f-h; 2004, figs 3f-k; Hope et al. 2009, 55, fig 6c). Concluding remarks: Trench 38 within the context of Third Intermediate Period activity at Mut al-Kharab The deposit of material within Square B of Trench 38 seems to be date to the Third Intermediate Period. This is supported by both Vittman’s (forthcoming) date for the ostraka archive of 750-650 BCE, in particular the first half of that century, and the pottery, based on Nile Valley comparisons. While some vessels in Figure 5 have Nile Valley parallels that can be ascribed to the earlier Phase IIB (the Libyan Period, approximately Dynasties XXII-XXIV, or c. 950-750 BCE), most conform to Phase III. According to Aston (1999, 162), this period comprises the mid 8th-7th centuries BCE, roughly 750-600 BCE. It therefore equates to the closing stages of Dynasty XXII, the second half of Dynasty XXIII, and all of Dynasty XXV until early Dynasty XXVI. Although the later part of this phase extends beyond the limits of the Third Intermediate Period, the pottery traditions of the time clearly continued beyond the political transition of the 25th Dynasty Nubian rulers to their Saite successors. The date of the ostraka, though, may indicate that the material in Square B pre-dates Dynasty XXVI. In comparison, the ceramics from Square A bear some similarities with the Third Intermediate Period examples in Square B, but the presence of New Kingdom vessels may suggest an earlier date. This is not surprising given the increase in New Kingdom evidence in recent years, as well as the highly disturbed nature of the site, which often results in “mixed” occupation levels (Long 2008, 95-

110; Hope and Kaper 2011, 219-236). It must be noted, however, that Context 28 in Square A was located below the ostraka archive in Square B. Moreover, the lower deposit was a layer of red packing associated with the yellow walls of the structure uncovered in Trench 38. This may therefore suggest the building was either constructed or renovated using earlier (and possibly contaminated) material from the surrounding area, or that it dates to the transitional phase between the New Kingdom and the Third Intermediate Period. Regardless, the Square B deposit post-dated this phase, and was associated with the aforementioned alterations within this building, as confirmed by the architecture, ostraka and ceramics. How then does the evidence from Trench 38 clarify our understanding of Mut al-Kharab during the Third Intermediate Period? With regard to the ceramic assemblages, the Square B corpus has its closest parallels with the pottery from both the adjacent Trench 6 (Hope 2004, figs 1-4), and the small tomb in the cemetery 31/405F9-3 located nearby Mut al-Kharab (Hope 2004, figs 6-8), suggesting a similar date of occupation. For the tomb, the occurrence of forms such as kegs originally suggested use during the Persian Period (525-404 BCE), but carbon dating of olive stones found with kegs in Western Dakhleh indicates these vessels may in fact date to the 26th Dynasty (Reimer 2005, 329). In any case, comparable material from Amarna confirms earlier 25th Dynasty activity at the tomb (Hope 2004, 108). Similarly, Trench 6 (Fig. 3) was a large building that may to date to Dynasty XXVI. This assertion was based on the discovery of a decorated block showing Psamtek I offering to both Re-Horakhty and Atum (Kaper 2001, 75-77; Hope 2004, 102). This ruler embarked on an extensive building program during his lengthy reign and is known to have undertaken a military campaign against Libyan tribes on Egypt’s western borders during his 11th year. This action may have led to the construction of temples in the Western Oases with the aim of solidifying the king’s influence in the region; the Trench 6 block may be a remnant of this policy (Hope 2003, 74; Kaper 2013, 173). Further evidence confirms Saite rulers were active in the region. At nearby Tell Marqula, one of the cemeteries used by residents of Mut al-Kharab, excavations uncovered inscriptions of Psamtek II and New Year’s bottles that can also be dated to the 26th Dynasty (Yamani 2002, 425-436). Although the dating of the Trench 6 structure to Psamtek I is by no means conclusive and requires further investigation (Hope forthcoming), the ceramic material in question is still significant and provides a useful comparison for the Square B pottery. Two deposits were located beneath the floor of the Trench 6 building; one was disturbed by robbers’ pits (Hope 2004, 105, figs 1b-2w) while the other was intact (Hope 2004, 105, 3a-4a). Nevertheless, the similarity between both assemblages is clear, and their discovery under the floor means they must pre-date the completion of the Trench 6 structure (Hope 2004, 102, 105). In general these ceramics can be dated to Aston’s Phase III, although parallels with the 25th Dynasty vessels 101

Richard J. Long from Amarna are again apparent. More importantly though, the construction of the large Trench 6 building was very intrusive at this part of the site and cut directly into all the surrounding structures, including that unearthed in Trench 38. This therefore confirms the building revealed in Trench 38 pre-dates the Trench 6 structure, a notion further supported by the material in both Squares A and B. Directly to the north of Trench 38, additional evidence of Third Intermediate Period activity may have been uncovered in Trench 34 (Fig. 3). Foremost were two large circular mud-brick features, interpreted as silos which, if dated accurately, would represent the site’s first in situ architectural remains from this era. In this instance, dating is heavily reliant on ceramics directly associated with these silos (Hope et al. 2009, fig. 6b); many of these forms bear close resemblance to the Trench 38 cache, including shallow flat-based dishes (Fig. 5b) and deep bowls with inflected contours (Fig. 5c). Moreover, the structures within Trench 34 were directly cut into by the large Trench 6 building (Hope et al. 2009, 56, 64). This further strengthens a 26th Dynasty date for Trench 6 as the silos must have pre-dated its construction. The other comparable material comes from Trenches 8, 9, 16 and 17 (Fig. 3). In each instance, large numbers of beer jars, small bowls/cups, offering stands and braziers, amongst other forms, were found within extensive deposits interpreted as sherd dumps; in Trench 8 alone, more than 1300 kilograms of pottery was recovered (Hope 2003, 59). The vessels appear to be votive in nature, and thus linked closely with religious activities within the temple (Hope 2003, 73-74; Hubschmann 2010, 61, 67). In Trench 16 this dense collection of ceramics continued under a layer of clean yellow sand on which a large stone wall was built (Hope 2005, 41). Presumably as part of the temple architecture, this indicates significant construction or renovation at the site after the use of this material. As previously mentioned, dating these forms is difficult, but current conclusions based on parallels with other examples suggests Aston’s Phase III (Hope 2003, 61, 63; 2005, 41); well-stratified deposits at Elephantine from this phase are attributed to Dynasty XXV or slightly thereafter (Aston 1999, 162). What then does the architecture and archaeological record reveal about Third Intermediate Period activity within Trench 38? Excavations unveiled the existence of three separate rooms within a yellow mud brick structure, which was itself cut by the construction of the later Trench 6 building. Beneath accumulated rubble, an uneven surface was uncovered, together with clear evidence of alterations to the architecture of the building. These included both the clearance and construction of walls to maintain a corridorlike feature, and the blocking of a doorway between the rooms in Squares B and C. Considering the suggested dates of the associated ostraka and ceramics, this phase of activity seems to have occurred in Aston’s Phase III, in particular Dynasty XXV.

The nature of the material within Square B, in conjunction with the layout of Trench 38’s architecture, implies an intentional decision to store these items together. The ostraka refer overwhelmingly to temple offerings, while the ceramic vessels all indicate the storage and consumption of foods and beverages, namely bowls, cups and jars. The small finds also fit well within a religious context; both the weight and inscribed stamp would have been used in the storage and distribution of temple goods. Located directly west of the temple proper, it therefore seems likely that the area around Trench 38 comprised storage magazines, an assertion strengthened by the location of possible silos in Trench 34. Given the date of the material within this deposit, the temple in question may have been a 25th Dynasty installation, such as that associated with the Smaller Dakhleh Stela. This significant textual source dates to the reign of Piye and outlines the donation of daily temple offerings by a man called Harentbia in honour of his father (Jansen 1968, 171). The material in Trench 38 links closely with the activities described in this stela; the upper register even depicts offerings placed upon a stand, similar to the one shown in Figure 6h (Jansen 1968, pl. XXV). As such, the discoveries within Trench 38 continue to clarify the extent and nature of Third Intermediate Period activity at Mut al-Kharab. This phase of Egyptian history is, in general, still not well understood, but these excavations are producing valuable results which confirm the site was a significant religious centre during the Third Intermediate Period. Bibliography Aston, D.A. 1996. Egyptian Pottery of the Late New Kingdom and Third Intermediate Period (12th7th centuries B.C.), Heidelberger Orientverlarg, Heidelberg. Aston, D.A. 1998. Die Keramik des Grabungsplatzes Q1: Teil 1 – Corpus of Fabrics, Wares and Shapes, Mainz am Rhein, Philipp von Zabern. Aston, D.A. 1999. Elephantine XIX. Pottery from the Late New Kingdom to the Early Ptolemaic Period, Mainz am Rhein, Philipp von Zabern. Bianchi, R.S. 1998. ‘The Carnarvon Chalice’, in F.D. Friedman (ed.), Gifts of the Nile: Ancient Egyptian Faience, Thames and Hudson, London, 225. Breasted, J.H. 1906. Ancient Records of Egypt: Historical documents from the earliest times to the Persian Conquest. Volume IV, University of Chicago Press, Chicago. Effland, U, J. Budka, A. Effland, 2010. „Studien zum Osiriskult in Umm el-Qaab/Abydos – Ein Vorbericht“, Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 66, 19-91. Frankfort, H, J.D.S. Pendlebury 1933. City of Akhenaten II, Egypt Exploration Society, London. French, P. 1986. “Late Dynastic Pottery from the South Tombs” in B. Kemp (ed.), Amarna Reports III, Egypt Exploration Society, London,147-189.

102

New evidence from the Third Intermediate Period temple at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis Freed, R.E. 1981. Egypt’s Golden Age: The Art of Living in the New Kingdom 1558-1085 B.C. - A Picture Book, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Friedman, F.D. 1998, “Lotiform Chalice”, in F.D. Friedman (ed.), In Gifts of the Nile: Ancient Egyptian Faience, Thames and Hudson, London, 224. Gallorini, C, N. Reeves 1998. “Chalice in the form of a blue lotus”, in F.D. Friedman (ed.), Gifts of the Nile: Ancient Egyptian Faience, Thames and Hudson, London, 225. Gardiner, A. 1933. “The Dakhleh Stela”, Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 19: 19-30. Holthoer, R. 1977. New Kingdom Pharaonic Sites: The Pottery, Scandinavian University Books, Copenhagen, Oslo and Stockholm. Hope, C.A. 1989a. “The XVIIIth Dynasty Pottery from Malkata”, in C.A. Hope (ed.), Pottery of the Egyptian New Kingdom: Three Studies, Victoria College Press, Burwood, 3-34. Hope, C.A. 1989b. “Pottery of the Ramesside Period”, in C.A. Hope (ed.), In Pottery of the Egyptian New Kingdom: Three Studies, Victoria College Press, Burwood, 47-60. Hope, C.A. 1991. “Blue-painted and polychrome decorated pottery from Amarna: a preliminary corpus”, Cahiers de la Céramique Égyptienne 2, 17-92. Hope, C.A. 2001. “Egypt and Libya: The excavations at Mut al-Kharab in Egypt’s Dakhleh Oasis”, The Artefact 24, 29-46. Hope, C.A. 2003. “The 2001-2 Excavations at Mut alKharab in the Dakhleh Oasis, Egypt”, The Artefact 26, 51-76. Hope, C.A. 2004. “A Note on Some Ceramics from Mut, Dakhleh Oasis”, Cahiers de la Céramique Égyptienne 7, 99-121. Hope, C.A. 2005. “Report on the Excavations at Ismant alKharab and Mut al-Kharab in 2005”, The Bulletin for the Australian Centre of Egyptology 16, 35-84. Hope, C.A. 2007. “Egypt and ‘Libya’ to the end of the Old Kingdom: a view from Dakhleh Oasis”, in Z.A. Hawass and J. Richards (eds), The Archaeology and Art of Ancient Egypt: essays in honor of David B. O’Connor, Volume 1. Supreme Council of Antiquities Press, Cairo, 399-415. Hope, C.A. 2012. Report on the Excavations at Mut alKharab in 2011 and Study of the Ostraka in 2012, http:// artsonline.monash.edu.au/archaeology/files/2013/04/ Report-on-the-excavations-in-2011-and-study-ofostraka-in-2012.pdf , accessed 26/1/2014. Hope, C.A. forthcoming. “Reconstructing the Image of Seth, Lord of the Oasis, in his Temple at Mut al-Kharab in Dakhleh Oasis” in R. Landgráfová and J. Mynářová Rich in Years, Great in Victories: Studies in Honour of Tony Spalinger, Czech Institute of Egyptology, Prague. Hope, C.A, G.E. Bowen, J. Cox, W. Dolling, J. Milner, A. Pettman 2009. “Report on the 2009 Season of Excavations at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis”, Bulletin of the Australian Centre for Egyptology 20, 47-86.

Hope, C.A, O.E. Kaper 2010. “A Governor of Dakhleh Oasis in the Early Middle Kingdom”, in A. Woods, A. McFarlane and S. Binder (eds), Egyptian Culture and Society: Studies in Honour of Naguib Kanawati, Volume 1, Supplément aus annales du service des antiquités de l’Egypte 38, Supreme Council of Antiquities of Egypt, Cairo, 219-245. Hope, C.A, O.E. Kaper 2011. “Egyptian Interests in the Oases in the New Kingdom and a New Stela for Seth from Mut al-Kharab”, in M. Collier and S. Snape (eds), Ramesside Studies in Honour of K. A. Kitchen, Rutherford Press, Bolton, 219-236. Hope, C.A, A.J. Pettman 2012. “Egyptian Connections with Dakhleh Oasis in the Early Dynastic Period to Dynasty IV: new data from Mut al-Kharab”, in R.S. Bagnall, P. Davoli and C.A. Hope (eds), Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, Oxbow Books, Oxford, 147-165. Hornung, E; Krauss, R; Warburton, D. 2006. Ancient Egyptian Chronology, Brill, Leiden. Hubschmann, C. 2010, “Beers Jars of Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis: Evidence of Votive Activity in the Third Intermediate Period”, Bulletin of the Australian Centre for Egyptology 21, 55-70. Jacquet-Gordon, H. 1979. «Deux graffiti d’époque libyenne sur le toit du Temple de Khonsu à Karnak», in J. Vercoutter (ed.), Hommages à la mémoire de Serge Sauneron, 1927-1976, I : Egypte pharaonique, Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, Cairo, 169–74. Jacquet-Gordon, H. 1981. «A Tentative Typology of Egyptian Bread Moulds», in D. Arnold (ed.), Studien zur Archäologischen Keramik, Philipp von Zabern, Mainz am Rhein, 11-24. Jacquet-Gordon, H. 2012. Karnak-Nord X - Le Trésor de Thoutmosis Ier: la céramique, vol. 2, Figures et planches,.Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, Cairo. Janssen, J. 1968. «The Smaller Dakhla Stela», Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 54, 165-72. Kaper, O.E. 2001. «Two Decorated Blocks from the Temple of Seth in Mut al-Kharab”, The Bulletin for the Australian Centre of Egyptology 12, 71-8. Kaper, O.E. 2009. “Epigraphical Evidence from the Dakhleh Oasis in the Libyan Period”, in G.P.F. Broekman, R.J Demarée and O.E. Kaper (eds),The Libyan Period in Egypt: Historical and Cultural Studies into the 21st-24th Dynasties, Peeters Leuven, Leiden, 149-159. Kaper, O.E. 2013. “Epigraphic Evidence from the Dakhleh Oasis in the Late Period”, in R.S. Bagnall, P. Davoli and C.A. Hope (eds), Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, Oxbow Books, Oxford, 167-176. Kozloff, A.P. 1992. “Animals as Amulets, Weights and Implements”, in A.P. Kozloff, B.M. Bryan and L.A. Berman (eds), Egypt’s Dazzling Sun: Amenhotep III and His World, Cleveland Museum of Art, Cleveland, 425-433.

103

Richard J. Long Krauss, R. 2005.“Das weresh-Datum aus Jahr 5 von Shoshenq [I]“, Discussions in Egyptology 62, 43–48. Leahy, A. 2010. “The date of the ‘larger’ Dakhleh stela (Oxford, Ashmolean Museum 1894.107a)”, Göttinger Miszellen 226, 45-53. Long, R. 2007. Egypt’s Western Desert during the New Kingdom (c. 1550 – 1069 BCE), unpublished M.A. thesis, Monash University. Long, R. 2008. “Ceramics at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis: Evidence of a New Kingdom Temple”, Bulletin of the Australian Centre for Egyptology 19, 95-110. Lopez Grande, M.J, F. Quesada 1992. “Two Third Intermediate / Late Period Pottery Deposits at Herakleopolis Magna”, Sesto Congresso Internazionale di Egittologia Atti, Volume 1. Turin, 415-425. Mills, A.J. 1999. “Pharaonic Egyptians in the Dakhleh Oasis”, in C.S. Churcher and A.J. Mills (eds), Reports from the Survey of the Dakhleh Oasis, Western Desert of Egypt, 1977-1987, Dakhleh Oasis Project Monograph 2, Oxbow Books, Oxford, 171-178. Osing, J. 1985. „Seth in Dachla und Charga“, Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 41, 229-233.  Petrie, W.M.F, G. Brunton, M.A. Murray 1923. Lahun II, British School of Archaeology in Egypt, London. Riemer, H. F. Förster, S. Hendrickx, S. Nussbaum, B. Eichhorn, N. Pöllath, P. Schönfeld, G. Wagner 2005.

„Zwei pharaonische Wustenstationen sudwestlich von Dachla“, Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäeologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 61, 291-350. Rose, P.J. 2007. The Eighteenth Dynasty Pottery Corpus from Amarna, Egypt Exploration Society, London. Spencer, A.J. 1993. Excavations at El-Ashmunein III: The Town, British Museum Press, London. Spencer, A.J; Bailey, D. 1986. British Museum Expedition to Middle Egypt: El-Ashmunein (1985), British Museum Press, London. Vandiver, P. 1982. “148: Blue-lotus chalice” in Egypt’s Golden Age: The Art of Living in the New Kingdom 1558-1085 B.C., Catalogue of the exhibition, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston 147-148. van Zoest, C, O.E. Kaper, 2006. Treasures of the Dakhleh Oasis: an exhibition on the occasion of the Fifth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, Catalogue of the exhibition.Egyptian Museum, Cairo. Vittmann, G. forthcoming. “New Hieratic Texts from Mut al-Kharab (Dakhleh Oasis)”, in O.E. Kaper (ed.), Oasis Papers 7: Proceedings of the Seventh International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, Oxbow Books, Oxford. Yamani, S. 2002. “New Year’s Bottles from Tell Marqula (Dakhla Oasis)”, Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale 102, 425-436.

104

New evidence from the Third Intermediate Period temple at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis Figure

Square/ Context

Wares

5a

B/32

P25 / P37

5b

5c

5d

5e

5f

B/32

B/32

B/16

B/16

B/16 and 32

Sc1

unknown

Sr17 / P37

P8

P37 / P25

Parallels

Aston’s Phase

Dynasties/ dates

•

Lahun (Petrie et al. 1923, pl. LIX, Type 30; Aston 1996, 38)

III

c. 750-600 BCE

•

Elephantine (Aston 1999, 68-69, 165-6, pls 15.495-6 and 48.1515-37)

•

Lahun (Petrie et al. 1923, pl. lix.5d, 5f, 5g)

IIB - III

•

Hermopolis (Spencer and Bailey 1986, 62.3-4)

c. 950-600 BCE

•

Amarna (French 1986, 181, type SB7)

•

Elephantine (Aston 1999, pls 33.1011 and 48.1504)

IIB - III

c. 950-600 BCE

•

Elephantine (Aston 1999, 182, pl. 54.1674-8)

•

Amarna (French 1986, 157, fig 9.18-MB2)

•

Hermopolis (Spencer 1993, pl 48, type A330)

•

Karnak North (Aston 1996, fig. 178.586)

•

Elephantine (Aston 1999, 70, Pl 16.509)

•

Abydos (Effland et al. 2010, 53, fig. 34.1-2)

•

Lahun (Aston 1996, Fig. 81, nos 13P and 20M)

•

Hermopolis (Aston 1996, Fig. 100, nos 45-46)

•

Matmar (Aston 1996, Fig. 127, nos 13o and 13T4546)

•

Thebes – El Tarif (Aston 1996, 47-48, fig. 141, no. 813)

•

Hermopolis (Aston 1996, 42, fig. 103, nos 69-70)

• • •

Elephantine (Aston 1999, 176, pl. 52.1618) Mut cemetery 31/405-F9-3 (Hope 2004, figs 6p-q, 7k-l) Matmar (Aston 1996, Fig. 127, no 1000-47H)

• •

Abydos (Effland et al. 2010, 54, Fig. 35.11) Malkata (Hope 1989a, Figs 3g, 3h, 10d) Amarna (Frankfort and Pendlebury 1933, Pl. LII, Nos XIII.8 and XIII.9; Hope 1991, Figs 8e, 11a, 12b, 20hi; Rose 2007, 103-104, 106, nos 442, 443 and 460) Amarna (Jacquet-Gordon 1981, 18, fig. 5.11) Elephantine (Aston 1999, 58, 74, pls 13.355 and 17.534)

5g

B/16

unknown

5h

B/32

Sc1

6a

A/28

Dr13

•

6b

A/28

Sc5

• •

6c

A/28

unknown

•

Hermopolis (Spencer 1993, 45, pl 55, type B1.8)

III-IV

c. 750-Dyn 26 (Saite)

IIB - III

c. 950-600 BCE

III

c. 750-600 BCE

III

c. 750-600 BCE

III

c. 750-600 BCE

-

Dyn 18

-

Dyn 18

IIB

c. 950--750 BCE c. 950-600 BCE c. 1200-600 BCE

6d

A/28

Sc19

•

Herakleopolis (Aston 1996, 40-41, fig. 88.3)

6e

A/28

P40

•

Karnak North (Jacquet-Gordon 2012, fig. 59a)

18th Dyn

6f

A/28

Sr19

•

Malkata (Hope 1989a, fig. 5d)

•

Hermopolis (Aston 1996, 41-2, fig. 108.116)

18th Dyn - III

c. 1550-600 BCE

6g

A/28

Sr3

•

See 6f

18th Dyn - III

c. 1550-600 BCE

•

Malkata (Hope 1989b, 9h)

•

Kafr Ammar (Aston 1996, 35-6, fig. 74.29)

•

Hermopolis (Aston 1996, 41-2, fig. 108.116)

18th Dyn - III

c. 1550-600 BCE

6h

A/28

Sc19

IIB-III

Table 1: Fabrics and their related wares from Trench 38 at Mut al-Kharab.

105

Richard J. Long Wares Fabric Description

A1a A4 A28 A30 B2 B15

Iron-rich; medium to coarse, with sand, limestone and straw; most common fabric in all periods in Dakhleh Iron-rich; dense and straw-tempered Iron-rich; low-fired with limestone Iron-rich; low-fired with straw and small white inclusions Medium dense marl Porous marl

Uncoated

Cream slip

Red slip

Decorated on red slip

-

Sc1

-

-

P4 P37

Sc5 Sc14

Sr3 Sr17

Dr13 -

P40

Sc19

Sr19

-

P6 P25

-

-

-

Table 2: Parallels for ceramics founds in Trench 38 at Mut al-Kharab.

Figure 1: Map of Dakhleh Oasis showing the location of Mut al-Kharab.

106

New evidence from the Third Intermediate Period temple at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis

Figure 2: Plan of Mut al-Kharab; numbers indicate excavated trenches (reproduced courtesy of C.A. Hope).

107

Richard J. Long

Figure 3: Detailed plan of excavated areas within the temple of Seth at Mut al-Kharab (reproduced courtesy of C.A. Hope).

108

New evidence from the Third Intermediate Period temple at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis

Figure 4: Objects found within the Square B deposit of Trench 38. a: Faience lotiform chalice (Context 15); b: Faience jar (Context 32); c: Calf figure (Context 16); d: Stamp (Context 32). All drawing by James Gill. Scale 1:2.

109

Richard J. Long

Figure 5: Pottery from Square B of Trench 38 at Mut al-Kharab. Context 32, drawing by D. Perry; b: Context 32, drawing by J. Gill; c: Context 32, drawing by B. Parr; d: Context 16, drawing by J. Gill; e: Context 16, drawing by B. Parr; f: Context 16, drawing by D. Perry; g: Context 16, drawings by J. Gill; h: Context 32, drawing by B. Parr. Scale 1:4. a:

110

New evidence from the Third Intermediate Period temple at Mut al-Kharab, Dakhleh Oasis

Figure 6: Pottery from Context 28 within Square A of Trench 38 at Mut al-Kharab. All drawings by James Gill. Scale 1:4.

111

‘Ain al-Gazzareen: New evidence for the earliest phases of occupation Amy J. Pettman

Abstract While ‘Ain al-Gazzareen has been under investigation since 1996, the earliest phases of the site have not been extensively investigated and, until recently, were not well-understood. Excavations undertaken during the field season of 2009 in four separate trenches at the site’s eastern end provide important information regarding its development. These excavations indicate that the site was surrounded by the main enclosure wall from its initial phase. This suggests that the site was constructed under the direction of the ‘Ayn Asil administration and was always intended as a regional administrative centre rather than an autonomous village or town. The date of its construction remains unclear, but the presence of early vessel types may suggest ‘Ain al-Gazzareen was constructed perhaps as early as Dynasty IV. The earliest investigated contexts are not associated with any architecture and yielded a mixture of locally-produced Egyptian-style ceramic material alongside shale-tempered vessels reminiscent of the Terminal Sheikh Muftah culture. While more data will provide a clearer picture, this material may indicate contact at, or even simultaneous use of, this site by these two groups.

Introduction The establishment of a permanent Egyptian presence within Dakhleh Oasis during the Old Kingdom is indicated by an increasing body of material (Giddy 1987; Hope 2007; Mills 1999; Pettman 2008; Soukiassian 1997); it was likely established at least as early as Dynasty IV (Hope and Pettman 2012), and continued into the First Intermediate Period (Soukiassian et al. 1990). A total of 68 sites within the oasis have yielded Old Kingdom material; these include settlements, cemeteries and artefact scatters.1 Continued work by IFAO at the largest site, ‘Ayn Asil, clearly indicates that a complex and highly-organised Egyptian administrative system was centred there, headed by a hq3 wh3t, or ‘governor of the oasis’ (Giddy 1987; Pantalacci 2001; Soukiassian 1997; Soukiassian et al. 1990; Soukiassian et al. 2002). One of the most important sites is ‘Ain al-Gazzareen. It has been excavated by A.J. Mills since 1996 and is the second largest site of Old Kingdom date in Dakhleh Oasis, located in the far west. The main part of the site comprises a large, mud-brick rectangular enclosure approximately 55m north-south, 125m east-west (Mills & Kaper 2003, 125), filled with rooms or spaces of various size and shape (Figure 1). At least two extensions to this enclosed space are visible, at both the eastern (Mills and Kaper 2003, 125) and western ends (Mills 2012, 179-80). A combination of damage from nearby farmlands and erosion has removed any material from the centre of the site (Mills 1995, 62); as a result, most excavation work has been undertaken at the enclosure’s two ends. The site probably functioned as both a re-provisioning stop for travellers passing through the oasis along desert trade routes, as well as a regional administrative centre, monitoring Egyptian activity in the

western end of the oasis on behalf of ‘Ayn Asil (Pettman 2008, 112-118; Pettman et al. 2012). One area of the site is of particular interest. Known as Building C, it has a unique layout and may have functioned either as the residence of a high-status official, or for religious or cult purposes (Pettman 2008, 105-108; Pettman 2011, 358-9) (see Figure 2). An analysis of the ceramic material discovered in this structure suggests a date of late Dynasty VI (Pettman 2008, 93; Pettman 2012, 197), which is consistent with material from elsewhere on the site (Pettman 2008, 91-2). Since Building C is located atop both the eastern wall of the original enclosure and rooms within the extension (Mills 2012, 179; Pettman 2012, 184), it clearly represents at least the third phase of construction at the site. Evidence for earlier architecture was also noted during the original excavation of Building C, visible where the plaster floor had been eroded. In order to gain greater understanding of the earlier phases of the site and its architectural development in general, a series of trenches were excavated both within Building C and in its immediate vicinity during the field season of 2009 (Figure 2). The finds revealed in these trenches form the basis of this article, and it is to be hoped that this examination will further elucidate the role of ‘Ain al-Gazzareen in the context of the Old Kingdom Egyptian presence in the Dakhleh Oasis. Trench 1 (Figures 3 and 4) Trench 1 is located partly within Rooms 2 and 4 of Building C, and also incorporates a section to the east. It measures approximately 9m E-W; the N-S dimensions vary, being at its widest within Room 2 (~1.5m), and at its narrowest to the east of Building C (~1m).

  Many of these sites are documented by Churcher and Mills (1999, 2579) as compiled from records of the Dakhleh Oasis Project survey seasons, undertaken from 1978 to 1984. This list is not extensive, however, and other publications (most notably, see Kaper and Willems 2002) provide supplementary information.

1

113

Amy J. Pettman Pre-Building Phase Several deposits of silty material (595, 593, 546, 628, 629, 630) These contexts pre-date the construction of any architecture. The ceramic material comprises locally-made vessels in Egyptian forms (Figs 10e-h), as well as vessels formed of a Coarse Shale fabric (Figs 10a-d). Building Phase 1 Wall oriented north-south (494) and associated buttress (639) Silty fill with fragments of broken brick (586 on the east, 585, 545 on the west) The wall in this phase is the short eastern wall of the original enclosure; additional buttresses associated with this wall are also visible elsewhere (see Mills 2012, 179). No floor level was present. One sherd only was discovered in the fill attributed to this phase. Building Phase 2 Wall oriented north-south (638) east of the Phase 1 wall Ashy fill (579/583, 577/580, 582, 576, 542) This wall occurs 2m to the east of the Phase 1 wall and may extend northward beyond the margins of Trench 1 below one wall (538) of Building C. No floor level was noted; the fill attributed to this phase directly overlies the Phase 1 deposits. Ceramic vessels present in this phase include Meidum bowls (Figs 10p-s), bowls (Figs 10t-w), bread moulds (Fig. 10x) and jars (Figs 10m-o), all locallyproduced in Egyptian styles, as well as bowls in Coarse Shale fabric (Figs 10i-l).

floor. The fill atop this second floor may partly consist of collapse material from the earlier walls. Ceramic material from Phase 3 includes jars (Figs 11df), bowls (Figs 11n-q) and Meidum bowls (Figs 11g-m) in Egyptian styles produced locally within the oasis, in addition to bowls formed of Coarse Shale fabric (Figs 11ac). Building Phase 4 Walls (537 and 538), floors (528, 524), plaster (519, 520, 522), floor buildup (523) All features attributed to Phase 4 in Trench 1 are associated with Building C. The walls in this phase were clearly built directly atop the walls of earlier phases. It was suggested by C. Beauchamp (pers. comm., December 2013) that these earlier walls were cut down to be used as foundations for the walls of Building C. The Phase 4 floors (523 and 524) were laid over deposits which built up on the second floor level in Phase 3 (536 in the east, 531 and 575 between walls 537 and 538). The remaining plaster layers (519, 520, 522) on the eastern side of wall 537 cover both the floor layer and the wall, indicating that both surfaces were plastered in a single event. Trench 2 (Figure 5) This trench is located in the centre of Room 6 at the northern end of Building C. It measures approximately 3m east-west, 1m north-south. Pre-Building Phase Silty fill including ash and some salt staining (603, 601/622)

Building Phase 3

This phase included a small number of sherds, only three of which appear to be from locally-produced Egyptianstyle vessels; the rest are from bowls of Coarse Shale 2C.

Small wall on east (592) and associated floor (636/637/640)

Building Phase 1

Fill (540, 531/575, 539/541) and small amount of collapse (634/635)

Wall oriented east-west (626), with associated floor (599/621), and possible silo (627)

Second floor level (no context number)

Loose, ashy fill with some charcoal (616/597/598), followed by collapse (609/591) and destruction (589, 606/584)

Second deposit of silty fill and mud brick fragments (536) This wall directly overlies the layers of ashy fill of Phase 2. The floor level occurs in three sections, abutting this wall, the original enclosure wall (494) and the Phase 2 wall (638). A second floor occurs only in the area between the wall from this phase (592), and the earlier wall to the west (638); it was laid atop the fill deposited on the earlier

The deposit of collapsed mud brick (591/609) may represent the partial collapse of the wall (626) since no other construction pre-dating these contexts appears in this area. Beauchamp (pers. comm., December 2013) suggested that the ash and charcoal (606/584) is a ‘possible destruction layer’, though the origin of the mud-brick fragments is unclear.

114

‘Ain al-Gazzareen: New evidence for the earliest phases of occupation Phase 1 yielded a ceramic assemblage including locallyproduced Egyptian-style sherds, as well as several of Coarse Shale 2C.

Building Phase 2

Building Phase 2

Silty fill with mud-brick fragments and charcoal east (624) and west (619/620) of wall 624.

Three walls, two oriented north-south (554, 569) a third oriented east-west (570). Pink floor buildup (605) associated with wall 554 No fill associated with this phase The east-west wall (570) directly overlies the Phase 1 wall (626) of the same orientation. It also abuts the eastern northsouth wall (569), and extends westward toward a third wall (554), also oriented north-south. The two north-south walls (554 and 569) are unconnected; however, they have the same orientation, similar widths and with foundations at comparative levels. The space defined by these walls probably originally abutted the original enclosure wall. No ceramic material was discovered in this phase. Building Phase 3 Wall (559) This wall fragment occurs both abutting the adjacent wall (554), and atop the pink mud buildup that was laid against that wall (559); it therefore probably represents a later, albeit all but disappeared, building phase, though the limited surviving remains of this phase precludes any further conclusions. Phase 3 did not yield any ceramic material.

North-south wall (642) and east-west wall (641)

The walls in this phase were difficult to examine. The first (642) occurs below a much later wall, while the eastern end of the second (641) could not be observed; the exact relationship between these two is unclear. The second wall may abut the Phase 1 structure to the west. Phase 2 yielded a collection of sherds from both the Terminal Sheikh Muftah ceramic tradition as well as locally-produced Egyptian-style forms. Building Phase 3 Floor (623), C-shaped structure (556) Compaction layer (614), pit (644) and fill (643) This floor abuts the earlier wall (642), but several courses above the lowest course, suggesting that the two were not in use at the same time. The C-shaped structure mostly occurs beyond the confines of this trench (see Plan 92), and was apparently built atop the feature from Phase 1. A compaction layer (614) may be a floor level. A pit (644, filled by 643) that spans the entire eastern trench margin was cut into this material. Building Phase 4a

Building Phase 4

Wall oriented north-south (549), floor (613, 645), pillar (567)

Floor of Building C (558)

Silty fill (617, 612)

This floor layer may once have overlaid all of the other contexts in this room, though it is now only preserved in isolated sections. As with Trench 1, Phase 4 represents Building C as revealed in the original excavations.

The wall was constructed directly atop the earlier wall of the same orientation (642) and is abutted by a floor to the east (613) and west (645). It extends beyond the northern margin of Trench 3, with a total preserved length of approximately 4.4m. A square, mud-brick pillar (567) occurs in the south east corner of the trench. The floor (613) occurs at the same level as the pillar’s base, but does not abut it. This phase yielded only two sherds, both from locally-produced Egyptian-style vessels.

Trench 3 (Figures 6 and 7) This trench is located within Building C, to the north west of Trench 2, and is fully contained within Room 5. It measures approximately 3.6m east-west, 1m north-south. Unlike the other trenches excavated in 2009, Trench 3 was not excavated below the earliest evidence for architecture. Building Phase 1 Structure below C-shaped structure (556) Little is known about this phase, which underlies a later building phase (556), as it was too fragile and badly damaged to investigate effectively. Building Phase 1 did not yield any ceramic material.

Building Phase 4b Possible wall (611) Fill (610) The wall of this phase comprises only a single course of brickwork, at only a slightly higher level than the Phase 4a features; this may thus be an addition to the pre-existing structure rather than a complete reconstruction. Further conclusions cannot be made about this phase because of its fragmentary and isolated nature. Phase 4b yielded no ceramic material. 115

Amy J. Pettman Building Phase 5 Floor (560/608) Pillar (567) re-used from Phase 4a No walls associated with Building C are located within Trench 3. The pillar from Phase 4a (567) appears to have been re-utilised during the later phase of Building C. As with the other trenches, the last phase in Trench 3 comprises Building C. Trench 4 (Figures 8 and 9) This trench is located to the north of Building C, and measures approximately 1m east-west, 4m north-south. Pre-Building Phase Silty fill with salt streaks (604, 607) The Pre-Building Phase in Trench 4 yielded only two vessels, one of Coarse Shale 2C, and one locally-produced Egyptian-style dated to Dynasty VI. Building Phase 1 Enclosure wall (494) Ash and charcoal deposit (602); second overlying deposit of ash (600); third of unknown material (596) Here, the enclosure wall (494) is oriented east-west; its exposed width is approximately 1m, with a height of 0.4m. The ceramic material is mostly of locally-produced, Old Kingdom type, with one sherd from a bowl of Coarse Shale 2C. Building Phase 2 Wall (516) Ashy fill (594), pit (633, filled by 632) The wall in this phase is oriented parallel to the original enclosure wall, 2.5m to its north. While only a small section is visible in Trench 4, on the surface its preserved length is approximately 4.5m, with a width of 1m. The ashy fill (594) overlies this wall, as well as the Phase 1 wall and fill; it may have been deliberately deposited to level the area for the next phase of construction. Phase 2 yielded 2 sherds, both from locally-produced Egyptian-style vessels. Building Phase 3 Wall (550), pillar (578) and floor (557) The final building phase is, again, associated with Building C. The floor (557), of hard, white plaster, overlies the enclosure wall and the ashy fill from Phase 2 (594), suggesting that the wall was cut to create an entrance to

Building C in this location. A north-south wall (550) occurs near the eastern trench margin; a second wall parallel to it (551) is located west of Trench 4. Both walls abut a pillar on the south (548, 578). Phase 3 is clearly part of Building C; no ceramic material was discovered. Building Phase 4 Wall/block (552) The last building event in Trench 4 was originally identified as a wall between the two pillars (548, 578); further inspection suggests it represents an attempt to block access to Building C, though whether this was an alteration to this structure, or an attempt to prohibit use upon abandonment of the site, is not known. No ceramic material was associated with this phase, though given the evidence suggesting that it represents a phase post-dating the use of Building C, a date of late Dynasty VI or after must be assigned. Correlation of phases and architectural features Because of their isolation from each other, caution must be employed when attempting to relate the architectural phases visible in these trenches to each other. In addition, Trenches 1 and 4 both occur mostly outside of the original enclosure, and it is unlikely that such areas were the focus of a great deal of activity. Caution must therefore be exercised with regards to this material. In three of the four trenches, excavation continued below the earliest architecture, revealing contexts including ceramic material, and therefore indicative of human activity prior to the construction of the enclosure. The very small amount of material, and its disjointed nature excavated from 3 isolated trenches, unfortunately precludes any real analysis of what activity this material might represent. Nevertheless, the ceramic material from the Pre-Building Phase in Trenches 1, 2 and 4 provides some interesting information. These earliest exposed contexts contain locally-produced Egyptian-style ceramics (see Figs 9e-h), alongside other material formed of Coarse Shale 2C fabric (see Figs a-d) which is very similar to vessels discovered at Mut al-Kharab identified as belonging to the Terminal Sheikh Muftah culture (Hope and Pettman 2012, 150, 156)2. At present, however, Mut al-Kharab remains the only site at which this culture has been positively identified, and the material from ‘Ain al-Gazzareen was recorded and analysed before a full description of the Terminal Sheikh Muftah assemblage was made. Thus, while it is acknowledged that greater analysis of this ceramic material is necessary, it currently   Similar material was also noted in excavations undertaken at the western end of the enclosure, also identified there as belonging to the Terminal Sheikh Muftah ceramic tradition (see Mills 2012, footnote 1).

2

116

‘Ain al-Gazzareen: New evidence for the earliest phases of occupation appears to indicate the presence of the Terminal Sheikh Muftah culture at ‘Ain al-Gazzareen. The intermingling of these two types of ceramic material suggests use of the site by both Egyptians and the Sheikh Muftah people prior to the construction of the enclosure, though whether this use was simultaneous cannot be determined. The earliest evidence for architecture is the enclosure wall (494/553); ‘Ain al-Gazzareen was therefore a walled site from its inception. Relating other architectural features in the separate trenches, however, becomes difficult, since none of the trenches include both the enclosure wall and internal walls. Nevertheless, some connections can be drawn. The wall (638) in Phase 2 of Trench 1 may have once been connected to that in Phase 2 of Trench 4 (516). Both are parallel to, but outside, the original enclosure wall, forming a newly-enclosed area approximately 2m wide that appears to have functioned as a walkway,3 allowing navigation of the site without entering the network of rooms within the enclosure. The walls in the lower contexts of Trenches 2 and 3 clearly define internal rooms or spaces. Two phases of building are evident, though how they correspond to the building phases in Trenches 1 and 4 cannot be established. At present, Phase 1 in Trench 3 cannot be related to any other construction. The east-west wall (626) in Phase 1 of Trench 2 may be part of the same feature as wall 641 in Phase 2 of Trench 3, with a second wall oriented perpendicular to the north (642), all of which together comprise the first construction episode. The two north-south walls in Phase 2 of Trench 2 (554 and 569) are parallel to a third wall in Phase 3 of Trench 3 (549), while a fourth wall (570) occurs to the south in Trench 2, perpendicular to these others. All are a similar width, and probably once formed part of a second building episode. Their orientation suggests they may have originally abutted the enclosure wall to the north, and that regular, enclosed spaces may have once been a feature of this area of the site. It is difficult to determine what activities may have been undertaken in the early phases from the architecture alone. While the ceramic material may provide some further evidence, the small size of the ceramic assemblages in each phase and trench inhibits such an analysis. The following discussion will thus comprise general observations only. It is generally accepted that the enclosure at ‘Ain alGazzareen was constructed and occupied by Egyptians (Mills 1995; Pettman 2008, 95-100; Pettman et al. 2012, 226); vessels derived from the Terminal Sheikh Muftah ceramic tradition have therefore been excluded from this analysis. In addition, some phases yielded no ceramic material, and these also are not included as a result. Graph 1 shows the estimated whole number of vessels present in each building phase in Trenches 1-4, divided

  This possibility was first raised by field archaeologist Celine Beauchamp during excavations in 2009.

3

according to vessel form and ware4. Rough vessels are those in iron-rich straw-tempered (A4) or shale-tempered (A10) fabrics, with or without a surface treatment. Fine Plain vessels are formed of the common iron-rich fabrics (A1/A2/A30), iron-rich sand-tempered fabric (A5), or local calcium-rich fabrics (B1/B10)5. Fine Coated vessels are distinguished from Fine Plain vessels by the addition of a slip, which may also be polished or burnished. While such disjointed data makes definitive statements difficult, some general comments are possible. The PreBuilding Phase in Trenches 1, 2 and 4 yielded fewer vessels when compared to later phases within the same trench, suggesting that activity was either on a smaller scale or for only a very brief period of time. Later phases in each trench - except for Phase 1 in Trench 1 - show a marked increase in the estimated number of vessels, consistent with both increased activity and an increased population. Meidum bowls are the most common vessel type in all trenches and building phases; in some phases they are the only form present, and are always the most numerous category. Bowls are also common, though in Trench 3 they only occur in Phase 2. Jars occur in several contexts, but less consistently. Spouted vessels and ring stands are rare, (1 and 2 examples respectively), as are bread moulds (2 examples). More generally, Fine Coated vessels dominate the assemblage, while vessels in Rough wares are rare. The rarity of vessels in Rough wares - particularly vessels associated with large-scale food production such as bread moulds and large bowls - is in stark contrast to the ‘kitchen’ area in H13/I13 (Pettman 2011, 352, Table 1), suggesting that the areas excavated in 2009 did not witness production or storage of food to any major degree. Conversely, Meidum bowls and other bowls occur frequently, particularly those in Fine Coated wares. Meidum bowls were used for many activities, including food consumption (Hendrickx et al. 2002, 277) and small-scale preparation, enough for individual meals. While the prevalence of Fine Coated vessels in Building C was used to suggest ritual or highstatus activity (Pettman 2011, 355-8), such a suggestion cannot be reasonably supported here; specialised vessels associated with ritual activity noted in Building C are not present in these trenches, and the limited architectural evidence revealed cannot suggest the presence of a temple or religious structure. Thus, in combination, this evidence suggests that the areas exposed in these trenches were a domestic or similarly general-use setting.

  The estimated whole number of vessels was calculated by adding together the rim sherds from vessels of the same form with the same dimensions and ware. In many cases the author was unable to access the body sherds and so this analysis is based upon the diagnostic sherds only. 5   These designations conform to the classification system used by the Dakhleh Oasis Project and formulated by C. A. Hope, which incorporates all ceramic material produced in the oasis from the Neolithic Bashendi culture through to the present day. ‘A’ fabrics are iron-rich, while ‘B’ fabrics are calcium rich; further divisions are based upon inclusions such as sand, vegetal matter or limestone. 4

117

Amy J. Pettman In all trenches the final phase is Building C, and new evidence regarding this structure was revealed in these trenches. The pillar (567) from Phase 4a in Trench 3 was re-used in Phase 5. Square, mud brick pillars are a distinctive feature of Building C not noted elsewhere on the site; its presence in an earlier phase suggests Building C was first constructed in a different form, though unfortunately there was insufficient architectural evidence revealed in this trench to suggest the layout of the earlier form of Building C. The original enclosure wall (494) and its extension (638) both appear to have been deliberately levelled to serve as foundations for Building C’s walls (538 and 537). Part of the original enclosure wall on the north, in Trench 4, was cut for the entrance into Building C; the two parallel walls (551 and 550) and adjacent pillars (548 and 578) create a formal entrance, suggesting that Building C could only be accessed from the exterior of the enclosure. The white plaster floor (557) overlying the remains of the enclosure wall (494/553) is similar to the remaining floor sections within the rooms of Building C. Whether the external corridor formed during Phase 2 was still in use is not certain. Date of the phases in Trenches 1-4 ‘Ain al-Gazzareen has not yielded any inscriptional evidence which may indicate its period of occupation; furthermore, samples of charcoal have not yet been submitted for Carbon-14 analysis. The same is true of Trenches 1-4, and so the only indication of the date of the different phases comes from the ceramic material, where comparisons with published ceramic corpora from other well-dated sites can suggest the period of use. Figures 10 and 11 provide a representative selection of the forms from Trench 1, with details and comparisons for dating provided in Table 1; full ceramic corpora from each trench will appear in a future publication. The process of dating the phases was made more difficult by a number of factors. None of the fill contexts were sealed; while archaeologically undisturbed, their exposure on the site’s surface or outside of the walls would have allowed material to be deposited in a single context over a long period of time. In addition, many of the phases yielded only small collections of sherds, thus providing very limited data by which to assign a date; in some phases no ceramic material at all was discovered. Finally, the sherds reminiscent of the Terminal Sheikh Muftah ceramic tradition cannot be dated with any accuracy as such a phase has only recently been identified at Mut al-Kharab. While early forms are present, even in the lowest contexts they often occur with forms more consistent with Dynasty VI, a phenomenon that is likely the result of the unsealed nature of this material. Nevertheless, even in mixed contexts, the repeated occurrence of forms dated to Dynasties IV or V indicates activity on the site during this time. Prior analysis of the ceramic material associated with Building C, which in Trenches 1-4 always comprises the

last phase, shows that this should be dated to late Dynasty VI (Pettman 2012, 197; Pettman 2008, 93). The very small, and often quite mixed, assemblages from the other phases prevented any clear date from being obtained. It is hoped that future excavation work at ‘Ain al-Gazzareen will reveal more of the earlier phases, enabling the date of the establishment of the site, and that of the subsequent construction phases, to be more tightly defined. Conclusion The trenches excavated at ‘Ain al-Gazzareen in 2009 provide important new evidence regarding the initial occupation and architectural development of the site, which in turn contributes to a wider understanding of the Old Kingdom Egyptian occupation of Dakhleh Oasis. It is clear that the earliest known evidence for activity on the site pre-dates the construction of permanent architecture. The commingling of locally-produced, Egyptian-style forms and Terminal Sheikh Muftah vessels may indicate contact and perhaps simultaneous use of this site by the Egyptians and Sheikh Muftah people, though its extremely limited nature prevents any definitive statements to that effect. The absence of architecture implies that the Egyptian presence was temporary, perhaps a campsite, but it is not possible to suggest the precise date or nature of these activities. The architecture also provides important information regarding function. The enclosure wall clearly forms part of the first construction phase, while the thinner walls within define rooms or spaces, not separate, freestanding structures, suggesting that the enclosure wall and the internal spaces were constructed simultaneously. The construction of such a labour-intensive architectural element as the enclosure wall, clearly intended to define the site’s perimeter, represents the investment of significant time and effort by an organised group. The suggestion that the site was a ‘small farming community’ (Mills 1995, 64) thus seems unlikely6. The site’s size is also pertinent. Other sites within the oasis often preserve artefacts scattered across a broad area, but evidence for architecture generally suggests that these sites were much smaller than ‘Ain al-Gazzareen; the next largest (33/390I9-3) covers an area approximately 75m x 45m. The effort expended to construct a site of this size, surrounded by a thick enclosure wall, therefore indicates that its function and the activities undertaken there were both controlled by the administration at ‘Ayn Asil. The inclusion of the enclosure wall as part of the first construction phase also echoes the site of ‘Ayn Asil (Giddy 1987, 185, Plan 2). While walled towns were a common feature of the Old Kingdom (Kemp 1977, 192), many have suggested that the construction of a wall at   Later articles by Mills (2002a, 2002b, 2003) also argue that this initial suggestion is unlikely, and promote an official connection between ‘Ain al-Gazzareen and the Egyptian administration centred at ‘Ayn Asil.

6

118

‘Ain al-Gazzareen: New evidence for the earliest phases of occupation ‘Ayn Asil indicates a particular concern with security and defence (Kaper and Willems 2002, 80; Soukiassian 1997, 15-16). The same may therefore be suggested for ‘Ain al-Gazzareen (Mills 2002a, 77), or at least ‘a statement to show ownership or authority’ of the surrounding area (Mills 2012, 180). Assigning a date to most of the phases identified in these trenches is problematic, since in most cases a significant proportion of the vessels could not be dated, or the dates provided were so disparate as to provide no real indication of the date of the context. Given that the later phases date to Dynasty VI, and the lowest contexts within the kitchen area yielded a date of Dynasty V (Pettman 2008, 90; Pettman 2012, Graph 5), it is therefore logical to suggest that the main enclosure was probably constructed during Dynasty V or before, while the phases between that time and the construction of Building C should be dated within Dynasties V-VI. Future work revealing a greater body of material in association with this first phase would allow for greater precision.

This evidence clearly shows that ‘Ain al-Gazzareen was intended as a site with official, and probably administrative, links to the governorate at ‘Ayn Asil from its inception. Its use as a regional administrative centre did not develop at a later stage as the Egyptian occupation of Dakhleh Oasis expanded, but rather was planned from the beginning. Such evidence indicates not only that ‘Ain al-Gazzareen was an important link in the command chain for the Egyptian occupation of the oasis, but also that this occupation was a carefully-planned and controlled strategy and not an opportunistic or haphazard event. Acknowledgements ‘Ain al-Gazzareen is excavated under the direction of Anthony J. Mills, and I am grateful to him for his permission to use the material which forms the basis of this article. Sections and top plans of the site were prepared by field archaeologist Celine Beauchamp; drawings of ceramic material were prepared by Bruce Parr and the author. This article is derived from research undertaken as part of a PhD at Monash University, focussing on the date and nature of Egyptian activity in the Western Desert during the Old Kingdom.

119

Amy J. Pettman Location

Figure

Fabric

Surface Treatment

Parallels

Date

PreBuilding Phase

10a

2C

none

-

unknown

10b

2C

none

-

unknown

10c

2C

none

-

unknown

10d

2C

none

-

unknown

10e

A10

Red slip

-

unknown

10f

A2

Red polished slip

Dynasty k3 chapel of Medou-Nefer (Soukiassian et al. 2002, 1694, 10: 1d1); Mortuary temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, V-VI XV DX); Ptahshepses (Charvat 1981, Plate 28, D194a, rim no. S 136)

10g

A20

Orange polished slip

Giza Cemetery (Reisner 1942, G 1209 A, Fig. 224; Reisner and Smith 1955, G 5080 C, Fig. 110)

Dynasty IV-V

10h

B22

Cream slip

-

unknown

10i

2C

none

-

unknown

10j

2C

none

-

unknown

10k

2C

none

-

unknown

10l

2C

none

-

unknown

10m

A1

Cream slip

Mastaba of Im3-Ppi (Minault-Gout and Deleuze 1992, Group 1.9.3; inv. 1846); Giza Cemetery (Reisner and Smith 1955, G2150 A, Fig. 81); ‘Ayn Asil potters’ workshop (Soukiassian et al. 1990, Plate 29, no. 85)

Dynasty IV-VI

10n

A1?

Red slip?

‘Ayn Asil potters’ workshop (Soukiassian et al. 1990, Plate 29, no. 87); Giza Cemetery (Reisner and Smith 1955, G4410 A, Fig. 92); Mortuary temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, VI CE)

Dynasty IV-VI

10o

A2?

Red polished slip?

Mastaba of Medou-Nefer (Valloggia 1986, 1419); Mortuary temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, V, DX); West Saqqara Cemetery (Rzeuska 2006, Form 25:171A, Plate 48)

Dynasty V-early FIP

10p

A20

Orange polished slip

Giza Cemetery (Reisner 1942, G 5020 Annex, Fig. 283)

Dynasty IV

10q

A2

Red polished slip

Edfu (Seidlmayer 1990, TE158); Mortuary temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, XIII DZ)

Dynasty V-VI

10r

A2

Red polished slip

Dynasty k3 chapel of Medou-Nefer (Soukiassian et al. 2002, 1694, 10: 1d1); Mortuary temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, V-VI XV DX); Ptahshepses (Charvat 1981, Plate 28, D194a, rim no. S 136)

10s

A2

Red slip

k3 chapel of Medou-Nefer (Soukiassian et al. 2002, 1694, 08: 1f); el-Hawawish Cemetery (Hope 2006, BVa.1); ‘Ayn Asil potters’ workshop (Soukiassian et al. 1990, Plate 19, no. 26); Mortuary temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, XVIII P)

Dynasty V-VI

10t

A2

Red slip (polished?)

West Saqqara Cemetery (Rzeuska 2006, Form 128:452 Plate 93)

late Dynasty VI

10u

A2

Red polished slip

Edfu (Seidlmayer 1990, TE168); ‘Ayn Asil potters’ workshop (Soukiassian et al. 1990, Plate 19, no. 29); ‘Ayn Asil k3 chapels 1-3 (Soukiassian et al 2002, 89, 03: 1e2)

Dynasty V-VI

10v

A2

Red polished slip

k3 chapel of Medou-Nefer (Soukiassian et al. 2002, 1675, 4: 1a2); ‘Ayn Asil k3 chapel complex (Soukiassian et al. 2002, 254, 15: 1a3)

Dynasty VI

10w

A1

Red slip

West Saqqara Cemetery (Rzeuska 2006, Form 199:705 Plate 139); ‘Ayn Asil potters’ workshop (Soukiassian et al. 1990, Plate 26, no. 71)

Dynasty V-VI

10x

A4

none

‘Ayn Asil potters’ workshop (Soukiassian et al. 1990, Plate 31, no. 98); ‘Ayn Asil k3 chapel complex (Soukiassian et al. 2002, 297, 19: 3)

Dynasty VI

10y

A2

Red polished slip

Mortuary temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, LIb*, T)

Dynasty V-early VI

Phase 2

120

‘Ain al-Gazzareen: New evidence for the earliest phases of occupation Phase 3

11a

A5

none

-

unknown

11b

2C

none

-

unknown

11c

2C

none

-

unknown

11d

A4

none

West Saqqara Cemetery (Rzeuska 2006, Form 1:1, Plate 9); Mastaba of Khekeretnebty (Verner and Callender 2002, Fig. B31)

Dynasty V

11e

A1?

Red slip?

‘Ayn Asil potters’ workshop (Soukiassian et al. 1990, Plate 22, no. 47); West Saqqara Cemetery (Rzeuska 2006, Form 26:179, Plate 49)

Dynasty V-VI

11f

A4

none

Ptahshepses (Charvat 1981, J 1898a); el-Hawawish Cemetery (Hope 2006, AIVa.2aii)

Dynasty V-VI

11g

A2

Red polished slip

Elkab Cemetery (op de Beeck 2004, Fig. 3, no. 22)

Dynasty III-IV

11h

A2

Red? polished slip

Mortuary temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, XVa Na) Dynasty V-early VI

11i

A2

Red polished slip

Mortuary temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, XIII, CF-CV); Giza Cemetery (Reisner and Smith 1955, G 1223 Annex X, Fig. 110); West Saqqara Cemetery (Rzeuska 2006, Form 179:623, Plate 126)

Dynasty IV-VI

11j

A2

Red? polished slip

Giza Cemetery (Reisner and Smith 1955, G5562 A, Fig. 110); Mortuary temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, XIV A)

Dynasty V-VI

11k

A2

Red polished slip

el-Hawawish Cemetery (Hope 2006, BIIIb.2); Mortuary Dynasty temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, XLVII, P); Giza IV-VI Cemetery (Reisner and Smith 1955, G4341 A, B, Fig. 110); West Saqqara Cemetery (Rzeuska 2006, Form 184:657, Plate 130)

11l

A2

Red polished slip

West Saqqara Cemetery (Rzeuska 2006, Form 184:659, Plate 130)

late Dynasty VI-early FIP

11m

A2

Red slip

el-Hawawish Cemetery (Hope 2006, BVc.1)

Dynasty V-VI

11n

A10

Red slip? (CHECK)

-

unknown

11o

A2

Red polished slip

‘Ayn Asil potters’ workshop (Soukiassian et al. 1990, Plate 15, no. 1); ‘Ayn Asil k3 chapel complex (Soukiassian et al. 2002, 428, 1: 1a1, inv. 4503)

Dynasty VI

11p

A2

Red polished slip

Giza Cemetery (Reisner and Smith 1955, G 4822 B, Fig, 108); West Saqqara Cemetery (Rzeuska 2006, Form 175:624, Plate 124)

Dynasty V-early FIP

11q

A2?

Cream slip

Mortuary temple of Raneferef (Verner et al. 2006, XIX, Z)

Dynasty V-early VI

121

Amy J. Pettman Bibliography Charvat, P. 1981. The Pottery – Czechoslovak Excavations at Abusir; The Mastaba of Ptahshepses, Univerzita Karlova, Praha. Giddy, L.L. 1987. Egyptian Oases, Aris & Phillips Ltd, Warminster. Hendrickx, S., D. Faltings, L. op de Beeck, D. Raue & C. Michiels 2002. ‚Milk, Beer and Bread Technology during the Early Dynastic Period‘, Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo 58, 277-304. Hope, C.A. 2007. ‘Egypt and ‘Libya’ to the end of the Old Kingdom: a view from Dakhleh Oasis’, in Z.A. Hawass and J. Richards (eds), The Archaeology and Art of Ancient Egypt: Studies in Honour of David B. O’Connor, Suprême des Antiquités de l’Égypte, Cairo, 399-415. Hope, C.A. and A. McFarlane 2006. Akhmim in the Old Kingdom – Part II: The Pottery, Decoration Techniques and Colour Conventions, The Australian Centre for Egyptology: Studies 7, Aris and Philipps Ltd., Oxford. Hope, C.A. and A.J. Pettman 2012. ‘Egyptian Connections with Dakhleh Oasis in the Early Dynastic Period to Dynasty IV: new data from Mut al-Kharab’, in R. Bagnall, P. Davoli and C.A. Hope (eds), The Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, Oxbow, Oxford, 147-166. Kaper, O. and H. Willems 2002. ‘Policing the Desert: Old Kingdom activity around the Dakhleh Oasis’, together with H.O. Willems and with an appendix by M.A. McDonald, in: R. Friedman (eds), Egypt and Nubia: Gifts of the desert, British Museum Press, London, 7994. Kemp, B.J. 1977. ‘The Early Development of towns in Egypt’, Antiquity, 51, 185-200. Mills, A.J. 2012. ‘An Old Kingdom Trading Post at ‘Ain elGazzareen, Dakhleh Oasis’, in R.S. Bagnall, P. Davoli and C.A. Hope (eds), The Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, Oxbow Books, Oxford, 177-180. Mills, A. J. 1999. ‘Pharaonic Egyptians in the Dakhleh Oasis’, in C. S. Churcher and A. J. Mills (eds), Reports from the Survey of the Dakhleh Oasis 1977–1987, Oxbow Books, Oxford, 171–178. Mills, A. J. 1995. ‘A Note on a New Old Kingdom Site in the Dakhleh Oasis’, Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities XXV, 61–65. Mills, A. J. and O. E. Kaper 2003. ‘Ain el-Gazzareen: Developments in the Old Kingdom Settlement’, in G. E. Bowen and C.A. Hope (eds), The Oasis Papers III: Proceedings of the Third International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, 123–129. Minault-Gout, A., P. Deleuze 1992. Balat II: Le Mastaba d’Ima-Pépi, Tombeau d’un Gouverneur de l’Oasis à La Fin de l’Ancien Empire, Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale du Caire, Fouilles de l’Institut XXXIII, Cairo. op de Beeck, L. 2004. ‘Possibilities and Restrictions for the Use of Maidum-Bowls as Chronological Indicators’, Cahiers de la Ceramique Egyptienne 7, 239-280.

Pantalacci, L. 2001. ‘L’administration royale et l’administration locale au governorat de Balat d’après les empreintes des sceaux’, Cahiers de Recherches de l’Institut de Papyologie et d’Egyptologie de Lille 22, 153-60. Pettman, A.J. 2012. ‘The Date of the Occupation of Ain elGazzareen based on Ceramic Evidence’, in R.S. Bagnall, P. Davoli and C.A. Hope (eds), The Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, Oxbow Books, Oxford, 181208. Pettman, A. 2011. ‘Form and Function: A Case Study of Site Function as Determined Through Ceramic Material from Two Areas of Ain el-Gazzareen, Dakhleh Oasis’, Cahiers de la Ceramique Egyptienne 9, 345-366. Pettman, A. 2008. Ain el-Gazzareen: New Insight into the Old Kingdom Egyptian Presence in the Dakhleh Oasis, unpublished MA thesis, Monash University, Melbourne, Australia. Pettman, A.J., U. Thanheiser and C.S. Churcher 2012. ‘Provisions for the Journey: Food production in the ‘bakery’ area of Ain el-Gazzareen, Dakhleh Oasis’, in R.S. Bagnall, P. Davoli and C.A. Hope (eds), The Oasis Papers 6: Proceedings from the Sixth International Conference of the Dakhleh Oasis Project, Oxbow, Oxford, 209-229. Reisner, G.A. 1942. A History of the Giza Necropolis Vol. I, Harvard University Press, Cambridge. Reisner, G.A. and W.S. Smith (1955), A History of the Giza Necropolis Volume II: The Tomb of Hetep-Heres the Mother of Cheops, Harvard University Press, Cambridge. Rzeuska, T. 2006. Saqqara II: Pottery of the Late Old Kingdom - Funerary Pottery and Burial Customs, ZAS, Warsaw. Seidlmayer, S.J. 1990. Gräberfelder aus dem Übergang vom Alten zum Mittleren Reich, Studien zur Archäologie der Ersten Zwischenzeit, Heidelberger Orientverlag, Heidelberg. Soukiassian, G. 1997. ‘A Governor’s Palace at ‘Ayn Asil, Dakhla Oasis’, Egyptian Archaeology 11:15-7. Soukiassian, G., M. Wuttman & L. Pantalacci 2002. Balat VI: Le Palais des gouverneurs de l’Époque de Pépy II, Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale, Fouilles de l’IFAO 46, Cairo. Soukiassian, G., M. Wuttman, L. Pantalacci, P. Ballet, M. Picon 1990. Balat III: Les Ateliers de Potiers d’‘Ayn Asil, fin de l’Ancien Empire Première Période Intermédiaire, Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale Du Caire, Fouilles de l’Institut Tome XXXIV, Cairo. Valloggia, M., 1986. Balat I: Le Mastaba de MedouNefer, Publications de l’Institut Français d’Archéologie Orientale du Caire, Tome XXXI/2, Cairo. Verner, M., M. Bárta, H. Benešovská, V.G. Callender, P. Kočár, J. Krejčí, R. Landgráfová, J. Leichmann, A. Němečková, E. Strouhal, J. Svoboda, A. Šajnerová and P. Vlčková 2006. Abusir IX: The Pyramid Complex of Raneferef - The Archaeology, Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic, Prague. Verner, M. & V.G. Callender 2002. Abusir VI: Djedkare’s Family Cemetery, Czech Institute of Egyptology, Prague. 122

‘Ain al-Gazzareen: New evidence for the earliest phases of occupation

Figure 1. Plan of Ayn al-Gazzareen, main enclosure. Used with permission of A.J. Mills.

123

Amy J. Pettman

Figure 2. Detail of eastern section of main enclosure and Building C. Trenches 1-4 are indicated in blue. Enclosure wall is shaded in dark grey. Numbers for rooms of Building C are indicated by numbers in brackets. Original plan drawn by C. Beauchamp; modifications made by the author. Used with permission of A.J. Mills.

124

125

Figure 5. Trench 2, all margins. Original section drawn by C. Beauchamp, adapted by the author. Used with permission of A.J. Mills.

Figure 4. Trench 1, southern margin. Original section drawn by C. Beauchamp, adapted by the author. Used with permission of A.J. Mills.

Figure 3. Trench 1, northern margin. Original section drawn by C. Beauchamp, adapted by the author. Used with permission of A.J. Mills.

‘Ain al-Gazzareen: New evidence for the earliest phases of occupation

Figure 7. Trench 3, southern and western margins. Original section drawn by C. Beauchamp, adapted by the author. Used with permission of A.J. Mills.

Figure 6. Trench 3, northern and eastern margins. Original section drawn by C. Beauchamp, adapted by the author. Used with permission of A.J. Mills.

Amy J. Pettman

126

Figure 9. Trench 4, western and southern margins. Original section drawn by C. Beauchamp, adapted by the author. Used with permission of A.J. Mills.

Figure 8. Trench 4, eastern margin. Original section drawn by C. Beauchamp, adapted by the author. Used with permission of A.J. Mills.

‘Ain al-Gazzareen: New evidence for the earliest phases of occupation

127

Amy J. Pettman

Graph 1: Ceramic Assemblages from Phases in Trenches 1-4 divided according to vessel type and ware Bread Moulds

Rough Bowls

Rough Jars

Fine Plain Bowls

Fine Plain Meidum Bowls

Fine Coated Bowls

Fine Coated Meidum Bowls

Fine Coated Jars

Fine Coated Spouted Vessels

Fine Coated Pot Stands

11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Trench 1

Trench 2

Trench 3

Phase 2 (594)

Phase 1 (600)

Pre-Building Phase (604/607)

Phase 5 (608)

Phase 4a (613/612/617)

Phase 3 (623/614)

Phase 2 (624/619/620)

Phase 1 (599/616/597/598)

Pre Building Phase (601/603/622)

Phase 3b (536)

Phase 3a (531/575/539)

Phase 2 (579/583/542/577/580/576)

Phase 1 (586)

Pre-Building Phase (546/593/595)

0

Trench 4

Figure 10. Vessels from Trench 1. Vessel details and comparisons for dating are given in Table 1. Scale 1:5.

128

Amy J. Pettman

‘Ain al-Gazzareen: New evidence for the earliest phases of occupation

Trench 1, Pre-Building Phase (full collection)

10c Gaz 10/1b

10b Gaz 10/2j

10a Gaz 07/10n

10e Gaz 07/9n 10d Gaz 10/2d

10f Gaz 10/3l

10g Gaz 10/4b

10i Gaz 10/1l

10h Gaz 10/3m

10j Gaz 07/10i

10k Gaz 10/2j

10l Gaz 10/2d

10m Gaz 10/5k

10o Gaz 07/3e 10n Gaz 07/13b

10p Gaz 10/3p 10q Gaz 07/5h

10r Gaz 10/1d

10t Gaz 07/14n

10s Gaz 10/1j

10u OK 02/32f

10v OK 02/26d

10w Gaz 07/12k 10x OK 02/4a

10y Gaz 10/5l

Figure 10. Vessels from Trench 1. Vessel details and comparisons for dating are given in Table 1. Scale 1:5. Figure 10. Vessels from Trench 1. Vessel details and comparisons for dating are given in Table 1. Scale 1:5.

189

129

Amy‘Ain J. Pettman al-Gazzareen

11a Gaz 10/1f

11b Gaz 10/3j

11c Gaz 07/10n

11d Gaz 07/4h 11e OK 02/54d

11f Gaz 07/8a

11g Gaz 07/1g

11h Gaz 07/9a

11i Gaz 10/3h

11j Gaz 07/2b

11k Gaz 10/2k

11l Gaz 07/1e

11m Gaz 07/5a 11n Gaz 07/13a

11o Gaz 07/17j

11p Gaz 10/4e

11q Gaz 10/3i

Figure 11. Representative sample of vessels from Trench 1, Phase 3. Vessel details and comparisons for dating are given in Table 1. Scale 1:5.

Figure 11. Representative sample of vessels from Trench 1, Phase 3. Vessel details and comparisons for dating are given in Table 1. Scale 1:5.

190 130