Archaic Greek Culture: History, Archaeology, Art and Museology: Proceedings of the International Round-Table Conference, June 2005, St-Petersburg, Russia 9781407305523, 9781407335940

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BAR S2061 2010

Archaic Greek Culture: History, Archaeology, Art and Museology

SOLOVYOV (Ed)

Proceedings of the International Round-Table Conference, June 2005, St-Petersburg, Russia Edited by

Sergey Solovyov ARCHAIC GREEK CULTURE

B A R

BAR International Series 2061 2010

Archaic Greek Culture: History, Archaeology, Art and Museology Proceedings of the International Round-Table Conference, June 2005, St-Petersburg, Russia Edited by

Sergey Solovyov

BAR International Series 2061 2010

Published in 2016 by BAR Publishing, Oxford BAR International Series 2061 Archaic Greek Culture: History, Archaeology, Art and Museology © The editors and contributors severally and the Publisher 2010 The authors' moral rights under the 1988 UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act are hereby expressly asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied, reproduced, stored, sold, distributed, scanned, saved in any form of digital format or transmitted in any form digitally, without the written permission of the Publisher. ISBN 9781407305523 paperback ISBN 9781407335940 e-format DOI https://doi.org/10.30861/9781407305523 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library BAR Publishing is the trading name of British Archaeological Reports (Oxford) Ltd. British Archaeological Reports was first incorporated in 1974 to publish the BAR Series, International and British. In 1992 Hadrian Books Ltd became part of the BAR group. This volume was originally published by Archaeopress in conjunction with British Archaeological Reports (Oxford) Ltd / Hadrian Books Ltd, the Series principal publisher, in 2010. This present volume is published by BAR Publishing, 2016.

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C ontents Acknowledgements

5

Archaic Greek Culture John Boardman

7



A Kore in Amber Faya Causey

12

Greeks and the Local Population in the Mediterranean: Sicily and the Iberian Peninsula Adolfo J. Domínguez

25

The Contribution of Archeometric Results to Our Understanding of Archaic East-Greek Trade Pierre Dupont

37

Greeks in the East: A View from Cilicia Charles Gates

41

The Collection of Works in Archaistic Style in the Hermitage Museum’s Department of Classical Antiquities Alexander Kruglov

46

Greek-Ionian Necropoleis in the Black Sea area: Cremation and Colonisation Vasilica Lungu

51

Greeks and the Local Populations in Magna Graecia and in Gaul Jean-Paul Morel

59

Greek Gems and Rings of the Archaic Period. The Formation of the Hermitage Collection Oleg Neverov

64

Archaic Greek Culture: The Archaic Ionian Pottery from Berezan Richard Posamentir

66

Black-Figure on the Black Sea: Art and Visual Culture at Berezan Tyler Jo Smith

75

Borysthenes and Olbia: Greeks and Natives Interactions on the Initial Stage of Colonisation Sergey Solovyov

89

Die Beziehungen zwischen Borysthenes, Olbia und Bosporos in der archaischen Zeit nach den epigraphischen Quellen Sergey R. Tokhtasev

103

Аrchaic Bronzes. Greece – Asia Minor – North Pontic Area Mikhail Treister

109

The Program of the Rearrangement of the Classical Antiquities Galleries. The Display of Archaic Art in the State Hermitage Museum Anna Trofimova

121

The Polis in the Northern Black Sea Area Yuryi Vinogradov

129

3

Bibliography

133

Abbreviations

154

Index

156



4

Acknowledgements From 23–25 June 2005 the State Hermitage was host to the international scholarly round-table conference dealing with issues relating to the culture, history and archaeology of Archaic Greece. Attention was also devoted to questions of exhibiting ancient Greek monuments in museums. The conference was opened by the Hermitage’s Director Prof. Mikhail Piotrovskii. The basic problems of studying Archaic Greece were set out in a lecture written by Sir John Boardman (Great Britain), which was read in his absence by Dr. Udo Schlotzhauer of the German Archaeological Institute. Twenty-two reports were delivered during the  conference. They dealt with the following major themes: Archaic art; the Greek polis (forms and rate of development); and colonisation (models and evolution, interrelations between Greeks and non-Greeks). Within the limits of these topics great attention was directed to the Greek city-states of the Mediterranean Sea region (J.‑J.  Maffre, France) and Black Sea region (Yu. A.  Vinogradov, Russia); to the penetration of Greek culture to the East (М. М.  Dandamaeva, Russia; Ch. Gates, Turkey) and the West (F. Causey, USA); and to the trade relations of the Greek cities as we know them from archaeological and epigraphic data (P. Dupont, France; S. R. Tokhtasev, Russia). Two of the conference sessions were devoted to the issues surrounding study of Archaic art in its basic manifestations: vase painting (M. Kerschner, Аustria; R.  Pozamentir, Germany), sculpture (А. V. Kruglov, Russia), jewellery (D. Williams, Great Britain), bronzes produced by artisan workshops (M. Treister, Germany), glyptic ornaments (О.  Ya. Neverov, Russia), and numismatics (S.  А. Коvalenko, Russia). Questions involving Greco-barbarian relations in the  regions of Greek colonisation on the Iberian Peninsula, in the South of France and Italy, as well as in the Northern

and Western Black Sea Littoral were the subject of papers given by J.-P. Morel (France), A. Dominguez (Spain), S.  L.  Solovyov and A. M. Butyagin (Russia), аnd V. Lungu (Romania). The reports by A. A. Trofimova (Russia) and J.  Gaunt (USA) examined historical questions and issues in creating museum exhibitions of Archaic monuments. The conference provided the context for the opening of the exhibition entitled Borysthenes–Berezan. Early Antiquity in the Northern Black Sea Littoral. The 120th Anniversary of Archeological Excavations on the Island of Berezan with the illustrated catalogue that was published at the Hermitage Publishing House and ARS Publisher (St-Petersburg). The first volume of the Hermitage’s series entitled Borysthenes–Berezan: the Archaeological Collection of the State Hermitage was also released to coincide with the conference. The conference was made possible by financial support from the Alexander A. Onassis Public Benefit Foundation, the British Academy Black Sea Initiative and the British Society for Hellenic Studies. The organisation and successful work of the conference were certainly depending on many people, among which I am especially grateful to the managing team’s members, which were E. Arsenteva and M. Akhmadeeva. At the first stage of preparation of the conference large job was done by the staff of the  Department of Foreign Affairs of the Hermitage, which in time issued and has dispatched official invitations to all participants of the conference, as well as by the  members of the  Department of Social Development of the Museum, which secured comfortable accommodation for all participants at St‑Petersburg’s hotels. I am very thankful to Catherine Philips for translating some contributions from Russian into English. Sergey Solovyov

5

6

Archaic Greek Culture John Boardman

We have become very easy with the term ‘Archaic’. Applied to history and art it has acquired a serious status which we might deem to reflect something positive and definable in antiquity. Indeed, to define it in general terms is not difficult, but there is always the danger of letting our terminology dictate expectations, leading to theories of development, progress, assumptions about dating, even admitting some ancient consciousness of an  archaic Greek cultural self-identity, which may not be wholly warranted by the evidence, and this must take priority over the convenient theory.

However, the f irst half of the 5th cent ur y saw a  sufficient change in the figurative arts of at least parts of the Greek world to promote the convenient view that the Archaic was turning into the Classical, and therefore that the  Archaic itself had enjoyed some sort of individual entity. This may be apparent in some of the arts, but is far less so in other areas of life and politics. The ethos of 6th-century Sparta was not so unlike that of 5th-century or even 4th‑century Sparta. We are trapped by our own terminology, our dependence on Athens, which was the least typical of the  Greek states, and on art history.

When ancient authors used the word archaios they referred to anything old or old-fashioned, or to a remote past whose arts seemed to them generally crude and unformed, or at best in a style that bore little recognizable relationship to the Classical, as it had been defined by the  5th century. The Lindos Chronicle used the word of the odd poses of figures on early panel paintings; Dionysius of Halicarnassus picked on simplicity of colouring and a preference for line; Demetrius saw in the  statues a  compactness and spareness unlike the  grandeur and precision of a Pheidias; Pausanias singled out crudeness and composition (Pollitt  1974, 255–59, for passages). The Archaic lacked beauty. The  word, and our use of the word ‘Archaic’, implying primitive, antiquated or out of date, combined a view that admits to a degree of the primitive and unformed, but also the idea that it involved also something of an arche, a beginning, that was to develop into something more fully fledged. Both views are supported to some degree by what we now know of Archaic Greece, by which we mean the Greek mainland, the eastern Aegean and much of the colonial Greek world in the 8th to 6th centuries BC. The defining points for the end of Archaic are, I  suppose, the Persian Wars, or the advent of a form of democracy in just one state in Greece, Athens, or, in the arts, the beginning of a move towards the idealised realism that typifies the  High Classical. Of all these the least important, I think, is the Persian Wars, for all that is claimed today about it being a defining point for Greek self-realisation and identity. It was no such thing. Half Greece still resisted the results of the wars and most of Greece resented the resultant dominance of Athens, while democracy, demokratia, meant whatever any politician wished it to mean, just as it does today. In  Athens it defines a  period when democratic institutions were in place, but which was still dominated by families and individuals – Themistokles, Kimon, Perikles – and outside Athens it meant nothing at all, while in the arts whatever was being developed after the Archaic in Athens took long to be regarded elsewhere, and in some places was totally disregarded.

The Archaic period may be thought of as seeing the  rise of the Greek polis, as though this was a unique phenomenon. Aristotle’s research team collected 158, perhaps over 250, different politeiai, and I doubt whether they were able to determine much uniformity in them any more than can modern scholarship, except in very general terms. But the  development of relatively small self-sufficient and selfgoverning communities with their own territory – chora  – was a phenomenon of antiquity wherever conditions dictated, from the Levant to China to Peru. In Greece it was especially determined by geography, to which Greek culture owed it special character, and which encouraged, indeed obliged a degree of independent development in all areas of life, undisturbed by considerations of any central authority or concerted action, yet with total intercommunication of people and ideas. We must not confuse the Homeric view of Bronze Age Greece, with its broad kingdoms and interrelated royalty, with reality. Those thick walls of Mycenae, Tiryns and the rest were erected by each state against its neighbour, sometimes a very close neighbour, and the Homeric Catalogue of Ships hints at a somewhat different pattern of diverse and independent states and cities. Later, there were dozens of Greek Leagues of city-states before Rome intervened, and most of them were lucky to survive as long as two generations. It was not that sort of country, and it bred people who were used to determining their own fortunes in their own communities. This was to lead to their downfall and loss of independence, but not before they had demonstrated to the rest of the world, and to the  present day, what this independence and the conscious exercise of freedom could do for human culture and welfare, even progress. What I want to do is to take a regional view of how Archaic Greece developed – not a common view although it was the one wisely adopted by Ann Jeffery (1976) in her book on Archaic Greece 30 years ago, and it can be revealing about differences; and then to consider just how coherent the Archaic was, vis-à-vis the Classical, in various areas. 7

J. Boardman

A few years ago I explored the concept of what I call the  visual experience of antiquity (Boardman 1995), since this is one of the few things that an archaeologist/arthistorian can do with any hope of success, and without excessive reliance on the literary heritage of the ancient world, which to some still seems self-sufficient, especially in Oxford. In other words to speculate on what the ordinary citizen would judge of his own environment and that of other Greeks simply from what he saw around him. Thus, the visual experience of an early 6th-century Corinthian would have been very different from that of a contemporary Athenian or Milesian, and in Athens this experience would change as the century wore on to a material climate markedly more Ionian than Corinth’s was ever to be. And all this was not simply a matter of geography and art but of a mixture of political and economic influences.

we tend to, this might seem to suggest a cultural revolution leading to notable progress in the  narrative arts, but this is probably a wrong deduction from the prolific evidence. Nothing in the narrative goes much beyond the  traditional and formulaic manners established in the 7th century in Athens and Corinth, even though there is much more of it. More credit perhaps goes to whoever traded the pottery far afield, and so provided the impetus for home production to grow, and imaginative innovation to work upon it, but we should not judge Archaic people by their pottery alone. A  busy trade in home goods, as well as an extensive chora, may explain in part Athenian lack of interest in any colonial activity, beyond an intermittent involvement in the north‑east Aegean, on an important trade route.

Politically the individual, king or tyrant, was in charge, even among oligarchic families, and the assembly of citizens only counted for something because from about 700 BC on warfare depended more on the hoplite class, which was socially more extensive than the élite families and leaders, and so had a voice that could not be ignored.

By contrast, Corinth faces all ways. We find there, from the Geometric on, an interest in the arts of the east, probably promoted by people as well as objects since Corinthians themselves sailed west rather than east, but they were on a  vital east-west route and therefore the recipient of anything of worth and novelty. There was the Diolkos on which ships could be dragged across the peninsula linking the Corinthian Gulf at the west with the Aegean at the east, while their artificial harbour at Lechaion sounds more like an artificial Phoenician kothon harbour than most Greek harbours, answering the more natural harbour at Perachora opposite, and recalls the oriental flavour of cults on Acrocorinth. The  abandonment by Corinthian potters of figure decoration on their vases about the mid-6th century was probably a  minor craft revolution, and only in part the product of Athenian competition. More likely, the visual experience of the Corinthian was better fed than in Athens by other media – metalwork and panel-painting, in which Corinth had an early reputation. In other areas Ionian influences in Corinth were negligible, while Corinthian commerce fuelled most novelty, not least in the proliferation of coinage and in associations with new colonies in the west, which Athens wholly lacked, and the state was managed by tyrants and related oligarchs.

We start with Athens. In Athens the Geometric period had monumental aspirations, as also in Euboea, and this survived in Athenian arts into the 7th century, with little more than a glance towards Corinth and the islands. Athens’ political health seems to have been in a poor state until desperate regulatory measures by Drakon, if he existed, at the end of the 7th century, and cool ones by Solon, which put it on course again in the 6th century, when a tyrant family, as tyrants tended to, established a form of stability and prosperity at the expense, it may be, of some degree of individual freedom, and with more reliance on an army more loyal to the tyrant family than the state. Then there is Kleisthenes, not that he really managed to do more than shift the identity of power rather than its character, and with the  help of a Spartan army, we should remember. But with the tyrants Athens had become more consciously Ionian (where tyrants were the norm) in its arts – in sculpture more than painting, an innovation that was slow to spread to other parts of homeland Greece. In other 6th-century arts Athens followed the lead of Corinth. If we judge by the  pottery, as

Sparta, meanwhile, was managed by a tyrant-type twin dynasty. It devoted itself to a social order which guaranteed a strong army and this it deployed against its neighbours relentlessly, and in a virtually imperialistic way within the  Peloponnese, even eventually interfering in Athens and courting the major powers across the Aegean, both Ionian and foreign. To this extent it was outward-looking, no less than Athens; in others it was too much constrained by the  need to keep control at home. The  system was austere, yet the  élite could live well enough, to judge from the bronzes and pottery made in Laconia, although this was certainly not a place for palaces and marble temples or fancy grave monuments. Thucydides remarked how deceptive would be a comparison between a ruined Athens and a  ruined Sparta in terms of judging power. Spartans had not been not slow to respond too much of the orientalising revolution in Greek art or even its later manifestations in the 6th century. It  was to play a  major military role in the Persian Wars, but these had little enough effect on its general culture, and only intermittently did Sparta rouse

There was probably a good deal more uniformity in the way of life of all Greeks in the 9th and 8th centuries BC, the Geometric period, than there was thereafter, at least for another 500 years. The impact of the Near East was felt strongly in Crete, where it was brought to them by easterners. It was felt in the Euboean states, where it had been sought out by the Greeks themselves, and to some degree in Corinth. The rest of Greece held back, or observed and copied, and everywhere, to varying degrees, the Geometric forms in the arts were remembered, but were never again dominant to the point that one could say that the arts and culture were totally regressive or stagnant. The ‘sub-geometric’ was a widespread but subsidiary phenomenon, in some places lingering into the 6th century, and geometry in the arts always appealed to Greeks.

8

Archaic Greek Culture

itself to ensure that it was top dog in south Greece or even in Greece generally. Athenian classicism in the arts was virtually ignored and the Spartans’ visual experience long remained sub-archaic.

When the Persians came to Ionia they took rather than gave, or were tolerant of people they could exploit and who gave access to the rest of a Greek world that they had tried to embrace. They failed to get further after the  attempts of the early 5th century because the poor Greeks were perforce made of stouter stuff than the already faltering empires like those of the Medes and Lydians, and they had better military technology and strategy, but for the  most part the  Persians could not be bothered with them. Domination of Greece offered the Persians no obvious profits to compare with those of Anatolia, Egypt and Central Asia. The Ionians thus emerge as the cleverest of all the Greek states. Their proximity to eastern cultures probably explains their precocious science, and in their arts we should look to their achievements in metalwork, painting, architecture and sculpture, all of them much affected by the east, rather than their mainly miserable pottery. Their Persian wars had been in the mid-6th century and many of their people followed their masters against their fellow Greeks. Some of them were stirred to revolt by their fellows to the west, but for the most part they acquiesced in the new order; their artists took little enough notice of the Classical revolution, and when they did it was in a very innovative way and often with borrowed craftsmen.

Thebes seems even less like the pattern of Athens, Corinth and Sparta. It was busy trying to dominate the  lesser states in Boeotia, one of the richer agricultural areas of Greece, like Thessaly to the north. Like Thessaly, it was indifferent to the Persian threat when it came, and caved in, always jealous of Athens. Its arts stagnated and depended much on the arts of neighbours, including Athens; its people stayed at home. Crete took a prominent part in Greece’s orientalising revolution, as recipient of ideas and, it seems, people, without going to look for the east, or at least beyond Cyprus, as the Euboeans did. Crete was also something of a leader in codifying legal practices, an activity not characteristic of all parts of Greece in the earlier Archaic period, but to be an important element in the  development of even a roughly democratic city state. But in the  6th  century the big Cretan sites seem strangely quiet, and it  would be hard to tell from finds or art when or whether the Archaic ever gave way to the Classical in art or manners, while the island was untouched by the  Persian Wars or even the 5th-century inter-Greek wars, and we  have no reason to believe that there was any serious depopulation. Like many other parts of the  Greek world it simply does not conform to expectations of the  pattern of Greek progress and behaviour in the  archaic period.

If we turn to the colonial world we find a political scene in the Archaic period not that unlike some parts of the homeland – dominated by tyrants or kings, call them which you will. Perhaps it should be easier to study Greek political behaviour in this environment, away from the  heroic traditions of the homeland, although the colonies were quick to create their own heroic traditions; away also from attitudes to long-established neighbours which had been adopted over centuries. Colonial links with the  homeland remained strong even if commercial rather than political. After early exploration, which was a legacy of the Bronze Age, there must have been more deliberation in the  foundations than some current scholarship credits; this is clear enough from the archaeology even without the  texts, indicating the possibility of easy subsistence as well as sources of a surplus for trade. The essential Greekness  – by which I mean language and religion, rather than any more complicated sense of so-called ethnicity  – remained dominant, and in the arts the colonies took their lead from the homeland wherever they could, but were capable of developing individual styles.

If we move on to the east Aegean, to Ionian cities like Ephesus and Miletus, we meet a yet more different cultural and political environment. They were ruled by tyrants, but tyrants, in Greek terms, do not represent a  special form of political control, just a form of kingship with less certain succession and loyalties, dependent more on armed support than family. In the east Greek world, as in Athens, tyrants could be patrons of major enterprises  – temples, waterworks, fortifications – much more like the  kings of Anatolia. One reason why they could act in this way in east Greece was their geographical position beside powerful neighbours – Phrygians, Lydians – and their presence on sea-routes north and south that took them into the exciting and rich territories of the Black Sea, into the Levant and Egypt, although in the Levant at least they had been anticipated by mainlanders. Much that they achieved must have been, and some demonstrably was, financed by their neighbours, who regarded them as their vassals, to a degree that Greek historians, then and now, were generally unwilling to admit. Lydians did not subsidise the building of a colossal temple to a  very Anatolian goddess like Artemis of the Ephesians just out of the goodness of their hearts, or because they thought the Greeks were basically good people, a third world worth supporting. They did it, and advertised it, to demonstrate their supremacy and in honour of a goddess of Anatolian significance.

But the colonies’ neigbours were not now other Greeks. They were people who sometimes had raw materials which the Greeks valued and needed, whether metals or foodstuffs. Culturally they were, in Greek eyes, naive. It is fashionable nowadays to pretend that the colonial Greeks learned much from their new neighbours, be they Sicels, Apulians or Scythians, but it seems impossible for anyone to produce any serious evidence for this in either material or social matters, beyond the probable effects of a  degree of intermarriage. Syracuse would have looked much the  same if it had been founded on the shores of Thrace or even Libya. The natives offered a market which could be observed and exploited, sometimes by trying to cater to its 9

J. Boardman

special needs and encouraging the people and their leaders to esteem Greek products. There was no serious reciprocal effect – or I would be glad to hear of it if any can be shown to have existed. The Greeks of the Black Sea did not pick up nomad ways or nomad arts; quite the reverse. When in contact with Europe, in Italy, Spain or France, the Greeks were unaffected by European arts. They barely noticed Egypt, yet, years before, when their own arts had been relatively unsophisticated, they had been totally won over by the arts of Syria, so they were not temperamentally averse from learning, just very discriminate.

terms, but again not in a way that suits all Greek lands at all times. Take sculpture. The kouroi may have been ubiquitous in Greece, but the Athenian ionicising arts of the mid century on were not. Natural selection of forms tended to greater realism in rendering of anatomical detail, and towards the end of the 6th century, in drawing perhaps before sculpture, more thought was given to effective depiction of action and posture – but it was a question of the effective not the realistic, and the artist does not begin to look at life, virtually a first for the history of the  art of ancient man anywhere, until the 5th century. Then it  is encouraged by a shift in sculptural techniques from the  carved to the modelled. It was not inevitable; it was not so elsewhere in ancient art in the world, and it  took some time to be adopted in all Greek lands, mainly from the  example of travelling artists.

What is certain is that Archaic colonial Greeks went on living a Greek life, while the life of their neighbours was irretrievably changed by the Greek intrusion. This is not jingoistic – it is simply observation of verifiable fact. Even when the Greeks succeeded in securing a trading enclave at Naukratis in Egypt, they turned it into a Greek town, with Greek temples and a social system which they came to call a polis – that magic word. The Egyptians were the only race to remain immune, most of them until Roman times. The British Raj could have done no better for themselves; but the Raj had other missions too and came to seek more than just subsistence and trade. Strabo observed bitterly on the bad effect the Greeks had on the natives with whom they had contact in the Black Sea. Think too of Europeans in the Americas. Lord Curzon, looking at Central Asia in the 19th century, commented that “Western civilization in its Eastward march suggests no sadder reflection than that it cannot convey its virtues alone, but must come with Harpies in its train, and smirch with their foul contact the  immemorial simplicity of Oriental life”.

In its way the Archaic mode was the general mode for all antiquity, in the Old and New Worlds, and we single it out in Greece only because it is easier to isolate, and for what came later, a progression not to be identified elsewhere. Egypt maintained what we might call a very sophisticated Archaic mode in the arts through over three millennia, highly successfully and despite the  constant possible influence of other styles, including the Greek. The  rest of the  world never quite had a Classical revolution to look forward to in Greek terms – China, India, the  Americas – only China eventually devised its own style of idealised realism, beside much that was still Archaic. Rome spread its own reading or misreading of the Greek message, until it  was recaptured by the Renaissance and modern scholarship. Reflecting on this we can see how unnatural in its way the Classical revolution was, and how Greece might easily have continued with modes of art and expression on which variations might be worked but never a  revolution. Nor is it easy to argue for any sort of political sophistication which inevitably culminated in the reforms of Kleisthenes, rather than a pattern of royal, dynastic, or commercial governance of vastly different style even in adjacent territories. We  move from near-oriental cities like Miletus, in many ways dependent on major powers to the  east, to the quaintness of Sparta, to the internal intrigues of Athens, to trading states like Corinth, the farmers of Boeotia and Thessaly. There was perhaps more coherence of political practice in the Greek colonial world than at home, determined by partial isolation and the importance of trade as much as subsistence on local land, but it did not lead to democracy, if that is what we think the postArchaic is about.

Looking at the archaic behaviour of these areas – of Athens, Corinth, Sparta, Thebes, Ionia, the colonies – the  states of Archaic Greece can be seen to have had very different fortunes, motivations and achievements. They were all Greek in that they spoke Greek, in various not always intercommunicable dialects, and they worshipped Greek gods. They recognized that non-Greeks were different but not necessarily worse or inferior, and they were well ready to court them and learn from them, at least in the  east or Egypt. If we look for something more coherent by which to define Archaic Greece we should perhaps look rather to the  national sanctuaries, Delphi and Olympia, but in this period even they were very much at the mercy of local politics – think of the Amphiktionic wars at Delphi and Olympia’s Peloponnesian bias. At least, as showcases of the arts, from architecture to Kleinkunst, they provided visitors with a fairly broad range of examples of excellence from different parts of Greece, and no less from outside Greece.

It becomes clear that our understanding the coherence of the Archaic has to depend to some degree on our view of the coherence and achievement of what came afterwards – the Classical. The English poet Alexander Pope wrote: ‘Know then thyself, presume not god to scan, The proper study of mankind is man’.

A prime mover for the Archaic was the example of the  Near East, sought out by some Greeks, but to which the  Greeks responded in different ways and at a different tempo in different places, many of them without direct knowledge of or contact with the east, as we have seen, but simply copying other Greeks. In the arts it is certainly possible to make a definition of Archaic art on its own

This is a concept that goes back to Greece, not least to the Greek motto gnothi seauton ‘know thyself’, but especially to Classical Greece. Archaic Greece observed man, his world 10

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and his behaviour, rather than his motivations and processes of thought and argument, and observed him closely – from Homer, the Lyric poets, through the developing narrative arts. Archaic philosophical and scientific speculation went outside man to the whole cosmos, from atomic theory to global geography, still largely observed in terms of divinity, however defined, and much dependent on the example of the foreigner, Egyptian or Babylonian. Meanwhile Hesiod and others codified what the Greeks should believe about their myth history and gods.

But this happened only locally and was not a universal Greek pattern of development. If there is any message at all it is that we may easily be led away from the truth, and a fair assessment of what was achieved in ancient Greece, if we are as bound by consideration of ‘the Archaic’ or ‘the Classical’ as other antiquarians are by classifications and labels of Early, Middle, Late, Ripe, Decadent. Greek history and culture is nothing if it is not variegated, and the different strands of culture, physical and intellectual, did not always or everywhere progress in a uniform way. We find it easy, with hindsight, to discern progress, but there is little in Greek art or culture in any period to suggest that their artists and thinkers were consciously dedicating themselves to improvement, rather than reacting to different conditions and associations, or trying to answer old and new problems. Professor Dodds (1973) argued that the Greeks had no concept of Progress at all except for a brief period in the 5th century. It would even be possible to argue that going for the realistic in the arts was a retrograde step, not taken by any other ancient culture, whatever its results may have proved to be. In this Plato would have agreed. What 7th-century Corinth or Ionia, 6th-century Athens or Sparta achieved, what much of the Greek world simply chose to ignore, are but stepping stones across very troubled waters, which were eventually but not inevitably to be channelled in parts of Greece and eventually on the broader fields of the Roman empire, into other achievements; these had much more to do with the history of human culture than idealised realism, narrative formulae, predicting the eclipse of the moon, or recording history and the material world.

Classical Greece is different; in Athens at least it did not simply observe, but went on to analyse man and his behaviour, with or without gods, through the tragedians, historians, sophists, philosophers and scientists. It was not a foregone conclusion that this would have happened after the Archaic period, and the reasons for it are not for pursuit today. It was also highly localised. What if the Persians had succeeded? It would not be altogether impossible for me, as others have, to turn my whole initial argument on its head, and to argue that the Archaic in Greece was a unified culture, consciously developed by a people with a mission and ambition; but it would mean that I would have to cut many corners in the argument and ignore many parts of the Greek world altogether. Or, as I did in a book of nearly 40 years ago (Boardman 1967), one might argue that the Archaic period amounts to a first phase of necessary instruction from the east in the orientalising revolution, followed by a later archaic phase in which Greek arts grew up and purged themselves of the foreign and oriental, while developing an art dictated wholly by Greek taste and standards, and not by foreign example.

11

A Kore in Amber Faya Causey

This conference and the gathered papers provide an  opportunity to propose an addition to the corpus of South Ionian Archaic art.1 It is an amber pendant of the  kore type in the J. Paul Getty Museum, one in a large donation of carved amber objects made to the museum in 1976 by Gordon McClendon. The Getty koretype pendant (76.AO.77), Figs. 1–5, is one of a handful of Archaic figured amber objects which can be attributed to the Greek East; two others, amber Masks (76.AO.79, Fig. 6, and 77.AO.81.5), also jewellery elements in the McClendon donation, were previously published by this author (Causey 1993). In spite of their respective states of preservation, these three ambers are exceptional objects.

when working with a decontextualized archeological artefact. The loss of any artefact’s context is immeasurable, and any attempt to discuss the kore pendant without it, is, to borrow an analogy from Thorkild Jacobsen (1976, 19), “not unlike entering the world of poetry”. The amber pendant was collected as a work of Archaic Greek art and as an important antiquity by the  donor, and accepted as a gift to the museum because its quality, beauty, and rarity. At the time of its acquisition into the  Antiquities collection, there was no published comparable work, adding to its value and interest. (Donald Strong’s catalogue of ancient carved amber in the British

This paper is intended to identify the kore pendant “as a domestic object with a potential plurality of meanings” (Moorey 2004), keeping in view the challenges presented 1

I would like to thank the organizers of this conference for the invitation to participate and to our Russian hosts for their hospitality and generosity. This paper benefited greatly from the  other presentations and discussion at the Hermitage conference, and I would like to thank the participants for their stimulating presentations as well as their constructive comments on my paper. The subject grew out of the project of cataloguing the  carved amber objects in the Antiquities Department of the J. Paul Getty Museum (now the Getty Villa collection). I would like to express my gratitude to the Getty’s curatorial, conservation, and publication staff, past and present, who have been of great help over a long period of time in this endeavor. The research for this paper was supported by a Robert H. Smith Fellowship at the National Gallery of Art and the writing by an Ailsa Mellon Bruce Curatorial Fellowship at the Center for Advanced Study in the Visual Arts, National Gallery of Art. The ‘Pendant Carved as a Kore’ is published in The J. Paul Getty Museum handbook of the antiquities collection, (2002, 145, where it is in the Etruscan section) and in the author’s forthcoming catalogue of the Greek, Etruscan and Italic carved figured ambers, to be published in the Villa collections series. Gordon McLendon donated his ancient carved amber collection to the Getty between 1976 and 1978. It  consists of figured objects, fibula decorations, plain beads and pendants; ring pendants with metal mounts, and a large number of beads and pendants stung into necklaces, some of which include gold beads. Three of the  McLendon donation necklaces seem to be strung with related material (date, form, style, technique, and state of preservation); others are made up, and include a range of bead and pendants. One necklace of gold and amber beads included an Etruscan gold-mounted Archaic Greek carnelian scarab. The  carnelian scarab is published by J.  Spier (1992, 16–7, no. 13), and by P. Zazoff (1978–1979, 196–7). The  other carved ambers in the Antiquities Collection, including the remainder of the McLendon donation, will be published in another catalogue volume.

Fig. 1. Amber kore pendant, J. Paul Getty Museum (76.AO. 77). [Front]. Photo: Museum 12

A Kore in Amber

Fig. 2. Amber kore pendant, J. Paul Getty Museum (76.AO. 77). [Back]. Photo: Museum

Fig. 3. Amber kore pendant, J. Paul Getty Museum (76.AO. 77). [Right profile]. Photo: Museum

the terracotta was involved in”. Indeed, what ‘activity’ was the amber kore involved in?

Museum collection, encompassing Bronze Age to Roman material, had been published shortly before in 1966.) Because of its history, the kore was investigated with the toolkits of a range of disciplines, including art history, archaeology, anthropology, ethnology, and the  history of collecting and display. Two of the late Roger Moorey’s last works, the 2001 Schweich Lectures, Idols of the People, Miniature images of Clay in the Ancient Near East (2003) and his catalogue of the Ancient Near Eastern terra cottas in the Ashmolean (2004) have served as models for such a multi-disciplinary approach, and it is from the latter that Jacobsen’s quote is borrowed. A  number of Moorey’s observations have played a specific role in shaping this inquiry, among them his cautionary note in the introduction to the Ashmolean catalogue (2004, 9): “Even if it may be possible to identify who or what is represented, whether it be natural or supernatural, that does not in itself resolve the question of what activity

Kore: condition and description Condition

There are pinpoint losses over all the surface and small breaks over much of it – along the right side: on the veil, the right breast, and the right arm from elbow to hand; and along the left side: on a section of the veil, and the upper torso near the breast. There are also breaks on the crown, at the top center and on the whole bottom of the sculpture from the lower hem area to the feet. This pendant has a  uniform dark orange-red translucency in normal daylight conditions and a bright orange-red color when held to the up to the light. No inclusions are visible to the naked eye. Upon acquisition by the  museum, the  piece (which had been broken at the waist and re-glued) 13

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was cleaned mechanically and treated with an amber oil distillate. The  result of the treatment was an improved translucency and slight darkening of the color.

Description

The amber has not been chemically analyzed, but its appearance is consistent with Baltic amber. The object is flat on the reverse and concave on the obverse, suggesting the form of the piece of amber from which it was worked, but there are no depressions or grooves. The lack of visible inclusions and no flow lines suggests that it was carved from amber formed inside the trunk. The flange at the  top of the head is drilled from both lateral sides toward the center for the insertion of a carrier. Under strong light, the two borings are distinguishable. Some areas preserve the multi-directional scratches caused by the  use of a fine abrasive: between the arm and the bodice, on the long folds of the garment, and at the juncture of face and hair.

Fig. 4. Amber kore pendant, J. Paul Getty Museum (76.AO. 77). [Left profile]. Photo: Museum

Fig. 6. Amber mask (Apollo?), J. Paul Getty Museum (76.AO. 79). Photo: Museum

She holds the chiton skirt in both hands, and is posed with her left leg advanced slightly in front of the right. The  figure wears a chiton with belt, veil, crown, and bodice jewellery. Her face is a full oval, the brow is smooth. The  smallish, narrow eye sockets are shallow and empty; they were likely inlaid (with eyes made from ivory and amber?). Enough of the nose remains to show that was indented slightly at the  root, and was carved at an angle close to the facial plane. The cheeks are flattish and full. The  mouth, formed in an expression of a half-smile, has a  short upper lip (with the tubercle indicated), which protrudes over a  full lower lip, which is indented slightly at the center. The nodes at the corners of the mouth and the  mouth angle furrow are indicated by short, nearly vertical indentations. The  mentolabial sulcus is shallow; the chin is small and round. Fig. 5. Amber kore pendant, J. Paul Getty Museum (76.AO. 77). [Detail, head]. Photo: Museum

The hair framing the forehead is parted in the middle, and the two sections are dressed to each side in a series 14

A Kore in Amber

of four rounded waves, each undulation plastically swelled. The sections then are pulled over the top of the ear and behind it. Over her hair is veil of fine fabric. Her hair is worn loose down the back, in a fall which is curved at the  bottom (the middle of which hits the top of the  thoracic vertebrae). Atop the veil is a crown, worn at the position of the bregma. The pendant flange at the top of the head is carved with a bead and reel.

with stone slabs” (Palavestra 2003, 213). Although the Novi Pazar ambers have been published as coming from the  production centers of Southern Italy, the huge find seems to include objects from many artisanal traditions, not only those of the south of Italy. (The Novi Pazar korai are discussed in more detail to this author below.)

The amber of the kore

Owing to the fragility of the object, the amber of the Getty pendant has not been scientifically analyzed. However, because of the size of the pendant, the quality of the amber, its clarity and color it is presumed to be ‘Baltic’ amber. This is the case for almost all ancient worked amber and for all of the tested pieces in the  McLendon donation.2

The torso section of the chiton falls into two vertical folds over falling the waist to the position of her wrists. The  skirt is drawn closely against the body. In her left hand, her thumb over the cloth, she grasps the central portion of the chiton, which is delineated by three narrow pleats. Her  right hand also holds a section of the  skirt, causing it to construct a vertical accent of several  folds, the  thumb once again uppermost on the gathers. The  draping on the  right side is pulled into six evenly spaced folds, patterned into almost parallel, horizontal sections. Three raised horizontal bands at the waist signify the belt. The hem at the  neckline, the  median join of the  sleeves indicated by two adjoining and parallel raised lines, and the narrow hems at the elbow are clearly indicated. The  veil falls forward to either side of the head at the position of the ears (not indicated) to her shoulders, forming drapes of cloth, or lappets, which hand forwards to the level of her armpits. The veil leaves the  tips of the  shoulders free, and cascades down her back to about the  level of her ankles. She wears a beaded ornament across the clavicle area, a  horizontal element. Is  it a pectoral ornament, the  string fitted with hooks to fasten it across the  top of the garment; is it sewn directly to the  garment; or does it attach the  two veil lappets, something similar to a  modern sweater chain? In the back, the veil is patterned into a  series of vertical pleats to a  level just above the hem of the chiton. The  center of the  veil is flat, unpleated, and plain; the sides of the garment are turned back, folding onto the center portion. This results in the  terminal edges patterning into swallowtails. Drop‑shaped fabric weights (two) attached to the each corner of the veil, and are  discernible at  the  uppermost edges of the  zigzags on both sides.

Just as the material of clay is essential to the nature of the terra cotta ‘idol,’ so, too, is the amber of the korai. If any natural material known to humans is magical, it  is amber. Since earliest times, amber was treasured for its physical, chemical, and optical properties, its origins, and for its mythic associations. The fossil resin’s amazing inclusions of flora and fauna must have dazzled, intrigued and inspired explanation. Even without figuration, a drop of (Baltic) amber, Greek elektron, was a high‑value, high‑status object since earliest times. Lumps of amber have been found in Norther n European Paleolithic dwelling caves. In the Mesolithic in Northern Europe, objects of amber – shaped into or embellished with potent symbols of the sun, fertility, and regeneration  – were buried with the dead, perhaps to offer light and warmth in the  grave, perhaps to offer the same suspended lifelikeness of the  creatures encased in amber, probably with the hope of protecting the deceased in the fraught journey to the  Beyond. In archaeological contexts and in ancient literature, amber is almost always associated with the  divine, the heroic, and the elite, and was a  significant material in status display. When the context of worked amber is known in the Mediterranean world, it is a  ‘princely’ grave, or a dedication or a foundation deposit in a sanctuary. Amber was used in ornament, amulet, medicine, or as raw incense from earliest times.

Provenance

At the time of the pendant’s making, amber was the  province of the privileged and powerful, a material with divine, mythical, heroic, and historic associations. For Homer’s audiences, this association is evident from the  first appearance of elektron in the Book 4 of the Odyssey, in Telemachus’ description of Menelaus’ palace. Elektron occurs two other times in the Odyssey. In  Book 15, the  swineherd Eumaeus, in telling the story of his kidnapping to Odysseus,

All of the carved amber objects in the McClendon gift were said by the donor to have come from Italy, but unfortunately there is no further information about the  objects’ history or about the circumstances of the  find(s). ‘Italy’ is a large geographical construct, but it may be the  correct (however generalized) provenance, since almost all documented Archaic figured amber has come from Italian sites. However, it is three finds from an Iron Age ‘princely’ burial at Novi Pazar which may provide the  best parallels for the Getty kore pendant. The kore‑type ambers are three among the 8377 carved ambers of the  burial. The construction of the stone tomb, excavated in 1957, is characteristic of Central Balkan ‘princely’ burials (Palavestra 2003, 213, with earlier bibliography including Popović 1994). “The abundance of the grave offerings was placed in a  wooden chest and around it; the chest itself was covered

2

Michael Schilling, chief scientist, Getty Conservation Institute, and Jeffrey Maish, Getty antiquities conservator, completed the  analysis of 35 ambers and a paper on their research in March 2005. A condensed version of their paper is included in Causey forthcoming. I would like to thank both of them and also Jerry Podany, head of antiquities conservation at the Getty for their expertise, contributions, collegiality, and support with this project. The photographs were taken by Ellen Rosenbery.

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F. Causey

The earliest amber korai are contemporary with the  bone and ivory examples, and date to the last decades of the  6th  century BC. The Getty amber is one of nine published examples, of which four have documented archaeological contexts: the three from Novi Pazar noted above, each representing a female in chiton, veil, and mantle; and a  single female figure in a simple chiton (and  veil?) from a 6th century BC female burial at Monteleone di Spoleto, Colle del Capitano (Perugia, Museo Archeologico Nazionale 101185: De Angelis 1985, 288, fig. 9). The latter comes from a disturbed grave, which also included an amber pendant of a siren (?) protome. The other figured ambers in the  Novi Pazar burial include pendants in the  form of ram protomes, birds, and acorns, and two large plaques: the one with Herakles carrying the  Cecropes engraved on one side and two hoplites on the other; and the second, engraved with a rider and horse on one side and facing sphinxes on the other. Aleksandar Palavestra (2003) has proposed that the triangular-shaped plaques, some of the birds, and some of the other flat pieces were originally combined to form complex ornaments. The other non-figured Novi Pazar ambers are plain beads and pendants, spacer beads, and part of a vessel. All of the amber samples tested show it to have come from the north of Europe. Palavestra writes that the style of the ambers points to the production centers in Southern Italy (2003). As noted above, to this author, the burial appears to include the work of many different artisans, traditions, object-types, and include a  variety of sources  – in subject, style, and type – not just those attributable to Southern Italy.

remembers the cunning Phoenician mariner who turned up at his ancestral home with an eye-catching golden necklace, strung with amber pieces. In Book 17, when the  suitors vie with each other in the extravagance of their gifts to Penelope, Eurymachus’ contribution is “a  richly crafted necklace of gold adorned with sun-bright amber”. Another early occurrence of elektron is in the (pseudo‑) Hesiodic Shield of Herakles [2.41] somewhat later in the  Greek-speaking world, around 600 BC, amber attracted a new kind of attention: Thales of Miletos is credited with having discovered ‘electricity’, based on his observation of amber’s capacity to attract fiber fluff. (Did Thales make this discovery at home, as he observed a woman in his household spinning Miletos’ famous wool with an  amber distaff?).

Korai in miniature

Sm al l f ig u re s i n t he for m of d r ap e d fe m ale s made from high-value materials for use as amulets and ornaments for the living and for the dead have an  ancient history. In  Egypt, Hathor, Isis, and Neith, are among the  human‑headed amulet types. Gold sheet repoussé‑formed jewellery pendants with female figures are known from Minoan Crete, and are a  frequent subject of Orientalizing gold work from the  Greek East. In Italy, Archaic repoussé figures of precious metals were excavated in the southern Italy at Taranto, Oria, and Metaponto (dated to the  second half of the 6th century BC), and were apparently attached to poloi. Etruscan gold plaques (for jewellery and dress?) of the 6th–5th  centuries BC, related to the  earlier East Greek examples, often represent female figures wearing crowns or pointed hats. Ivory koretype figures were long used in the  Ancient Near East as supports and parts of furnishings, a tradition that continued in Greek and Etruscan Orientalizing art. The  finds from the Ephesus and Samos are the extraordinary Ionian witnesses: the  ivory statuettes from the Artemision represent the goddess herself; those from Samos, Hera and other divinities including Egyptians. The ivory and bone figures of a  standing draped woman at Sparta are Artemis Orthia. In Italy, one of the earliest documented examples of an  ivory kore is from Murlo, dating to about the same time as the  precious metal examples and many of the  Greek ivories. Osseous korai are more frequently in evidence in the last quarter of the  6th  century BC, no longer in Ionia, now almost exclusively in peninsular Italy. Bone and ivory draped female figures dating to the decades each side of 500 BC include a  pendant from Taranto excavated from a tomb; six draped female figures of bone or ivory, all wearing simple chitons, strung in a row on the pin of a  fibula excavated from a grave at Belmonte Piceno (along with a corresponding nude kouroidecorated pin); and seven bone or ivory single female figures in simple chitons, one  a  seal and the others, statuettes, unearthed from the Stipe di Sant’Omobono at Rome (Rome, Antiquario Communale, inv.  no. 27876, the  single figure; and 27858, the  seal). Because of their large disc‑shaped head ornaments, the  latter have been identified as representing the Mater Matuta.

The five other published amber korai do not have documented provenances, but they are said to have come from Italy: a kore figure once in Berlin and now lost (Bernstein Inv. no. 1: Heidenreich 1968, 656 ff., pl. 9.1), wearing a chiton and an over garment, over the head; two in Dresden (Albertinum, inv. no. 1384, for both: Heidenreich 1968, 655 ff., pl. 8: 1–2) garbed in chiton, veil, and mantle; and a fifth in New York (Metropolitan Museum of Art inv. no. 17.230.52: Richter 1940, 32, figs.  104–105), a  kourotrophos. Both figures were chitons, and the adult figure wears an over-garment, perhaps a  veil. Richter attributes it to Etruria. Robert Heidenreich recounts that the Dresden ambers came from a grave near Rome, and attributes the pair to Etruria; the Berlin pieces have no known find spot, and Heidenreich considers them as Italic, probably Etruscan. These remain reasonable conclusions.

The Getty and other amber korai, compared and contrasted

The Getty pendant has features in common with each one of the nine pendants, but it is most similar to the  Berlin pendant, at least to judge from the photograph of her front (there is no extant photograph of her back). They are alike in contour, volume, stance, hand position, as well as general body proportions: large heads on diminutive necks (their heads make up roughly a fifth of their total height), wide shoulders and full upper arms, and a short stature. Both wear chitons with deep over folds, and have similar long, cape-like veils with lappets 16

A Kore in Amber

by Francois Croissant to Miletos are particularly close in their emphasis on horizontality in the design and placement of the features3. Croissant’s comments about this group, that their faces are serene and communicate a sense of an  immediate and living presence could also be applied to the Getty pendant.

of cloth on the front and shoulders. Although the Getty and Berlin pendants may share a common artistic tradition, and even a common prototype, there are differences between them, notably in the more cursory modeling of the Berlin pendant. Whereas the Getty amber has a  bead and reel flange as part of the  pendant, the Berlin amber is bored through the head from temple to temple. The  expression of the  Getty figure smiles, while the Berlin amber communicates greater gravity (is this owing to age or the photography?). The  larger of the Dresden amber pendants is also veiled, but there are no frontal lappets (the smaller one may also wear a veil, but it is not as clearly represented). The Getty, the Berlin, the larger of the Dresden pendants, and two of the Novi Pazar figures (689/I and 692/I: Popovič 1994, 208, no. 296 and 298) hold folds of drapery in both hands, but more markedly with the left hand. Novi Pazar 689/I is the most pronounced display of cloth-grasping.

The weight and hand of the chiton and veil fabrics are communicated by the carver with a rich plasticity in the modeling. The figurine’s belted chiton has long overhangs, a  central bunching of folds in the skirt in front, an emphasized verticality in the bodice folds, and a series of horizontal folds of the skirt section. This  is a  similar patterning to that of many South  Ionian marble korai, including two fragmentary marbles from Miletos (Berlin  1577 and 1744), one from Didyma (Berlin  1793),  but also to that of a marble from Theangela, Caria (London  B319,  a), and to the figure of a votive relief from near Cyzicus (Berlin 1851).

These nine amber korai, all apparently by different hands, and from at least six different find spots, suggest a widespread demand for amber pendants of the kore type. The similarities and differences in dress and pose deserve attention. The iconographic variations may have carried different meanings and identities, may signal their different functions and any relationship to any prototypes, and may reveal the flexibility of the kore type. Three of the amber female figures are stationary, of which one is a  kourotrophos. Five are chiton-grasping, and have the left foot forward; of these, three are veiled. Two – the Getty and Berlin pendants – are similar enough in dress, pose, and style to suggest a common prototype, yet different enough for them to be the work of different carvers.

The long curving coiffure of the amber figurine, which does not appear to be a common Archaic hairstyle, may also be worth further investigation. Parallels for it include three Greek marble korai, a Greek bronze mirror stand, and a number of Etruscan votive bronzes. The Greek examples are the above-mentioned Letos (?) from Delos in Athens (NM22); the marble Kore from Andros in Copenhagen (number); a late 6th century BC (with later interventions) marble kore in New York, said to be from the neighborhood of Laurion (07.286.110); and a late 6th  century bronze mirror stand in London, said to have been found in Rome (BM 242). The Etruscan examples, dated by Emeline Richardson to the Middle Archaic, include two in Florence (nos. 266, from Arezzo, fonte Venziana stips; and  231), and an  unnumbered bronze in the Villa Giulia.4

Although the number is relatively small, the fact that nine amber korai pendants were found in similar circumstances, six with documentation that they come from graves, might allow them to be considered as “part of a single system of symbols at the time of use” (Moorey 2004, and see  below).

Atop the hair of the amber figure, lies the veil, held in place by the crown. The veil is long: it leaves the  front of the  hair exposed, surrounds the face, covers the ears, and forms two graceful loops of fabric, or lappets at the  shoulders. In the back, it descends to about the level of the ankles, just above the hem of the chiton.5 The  rendering of the top portion of the veil corresponds to the type Brunilde Ridgway (1993) characterizes as typically Milesian, a fashion which swells around the temples in contrast with the tighter arrangement of Samian veils. Milesian, too, are the veil’s zigzag folds. Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones (2003, 27) describes the Milesian veils as lightweight, and perhaps diaphanous. Yet, unlike the three-dimensional marble korai that wear the long veil, the amber kore’s veil is not wrapped around the body and tucked into the belt, but instead falls freely to the ankles: this is the also the way the long veil appears on the korai of the marble reliefs.

Milesian manufacture?

The Getty kore pendant is attributed here to a South Ionian carver, perhaps by a Milesian, because of its physical type, form, iconography, and style. It is dated to the last decades of the sixth century BC. In the  absence of parallels in similar scale, the amber kore is compared here to three‑dimensional objects, marbles, terra cottas, and bronzes. More could be gained by looking at the  Getty amber in relation to the two-dimensional images of painted vases, especially in light of the many new or newly‑published vessels which might be tied to South Ionia, and more specifically Miletos.

3

Croissant 1983, Chapter II. Group B: BM 205, BM 206, Athens  5669, and Louvre MNC 681. 4 For the Villa Giulia bronze, see Richardson 1983, 264, figs.  601– 602. 5 The relief figure found at Caltidere (Myrina) in the Izmir Museum, wears a veil that forms nearly identical lappets. Akurgal (1979, 38, pl. 8: 1–2) dates the relief to about 570–560 BC.

Published analogues for the head of the Getty pendant include terra cottas and marbles. Four marble heads, two from Miletos (Berlin 71, Sk 1631), one from Samos (Berlin Sk 1874), one possibly from Samos in Paris (M4546), and another in Izmir (15136) are similar in the overall anatomical structure. A group of terra cottas attributed 17

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The Getty pendant kore appears to be the only complete three-dimensional example of a figure wearing the long veil in this manner, since otherwise it is known only from body-less marble heads, headless bodies, and figures of marble relieves.

and their products seem also to have played an important rôle. In the case of carved amber, researchers have long proposed a place for Ionians and Ionian art in production in Italy, from the Orientalizing into the Archaic. One way of measuring impact is in influence and in this author’s view, works such as the New York Morgan amber, a fibula decoration of a banqueting scene, said to have come from Falconara, and reveals the specific artistic impact of south Ionia on the indigenous culture. This is a thoroughly Italic type (Picene?) type of fibula which represents an Ionian/ Etruscan version of an Oriental subject. Another example, said to be from Italy, is the recumbent amber lion pendant in the Getty (76.AO. 78, Figs. 7–8) of the early 5th century BC; it is very close to the marble lions of Miletos.

Carved where?

If the pendant were indeed carved by a South Ionian, where was it carved? Although there is no direct evidence for the location, the circumstantial evidence points west, to Italy, the reported provenance. There is very little archaeological evidence for amber working in Greece after circa 600 BC, although it is well-attested earlier at Ionian archaeological sites throughout the Orientalizing period, in sanctuaries especially. However, it disappears from the  record after 600 BC, just at the time Thales records its trick of attracting fluff electromagnetically. In contrast, amber seems always to have been available in Italy, with numerous amber-rich filled graves dating to the  second half of the 7th century BC. Italian peninsular finds are not uncommon after 600 BC, and beginning in the last third of the 6th century BC and continuing into the  5th  century BC, the archaeological record shows a wealth of amber objects in Italy. The Italian Orientalizing and Archaic finds are almost exclusively funerary. This is not to exclude the  possibility that the amber kore was carved in Ionia  – it may be merely absent in the record. Baltic amber may well have been imported to South Ionia in the  Archaic and worked there. Amber comes in various, small size pieces and is remarkably light and easy to pack  – unlike ivory for example.

For the Archaic period, myth and legend may help explain the abundance of amber in Italy. The best known story of amber’s origins is that of Phaeton. The Eridanos (identified early on with the Po) is the river where Phaethon crashed and fell, where his sisters and mother, the Heliades, came to mourn, and where the Heliades were turned into poplar trees, their tears hardening into amber as they dripped into the river. There also existed other amber-origin stories ‘documenting’ Italy or the Adriatic as its source: Euripides, Apollonius, and Pseudo-Aristotle (Adriatic Gulf) and Theophrastus (Liguria). If the kore were carved in Italy, near the presumed sources of raw amber, it might be asked: Was the carver a foreign resident, a free-lance itinerant, a transferred craftsman?6 Or was the kore’s carver a high-ranking stranger, the ‘seer, or a healer of illnesses, or a carpenter who works on wood, or even an inspired singer’ named by Eumaios [Od. 17. 384–385]? Amber was a prestige material and the skill represented by the maker of the kore suggests valuable artisanry. But might a greater value have lain in the knowledge of what amber was good for, how it  might ‘work’? Whatever is the case, it does not mean

But if carved in Italy, where and under what circumstances? The preponderance of amber finds come from graves in the  south central Basilicata, the Etruscan cities of Campania (Cumae, Canosa, Pontecagnano), the mid-Adriatic, especially in ancient Picenum, and the areas bordering Etruria to the  north and east. In this picture, the Novi Pazar burial is exceptional. Many, if not most of the 5th – 4th centuries BC figured ambers have an inconographic connection to Etruscan art, and the Ionian presence is still seen in the  forms, subjects, and style. Few objects of amber have been found in Magna Graecia, and only one figured work, a lion, from a documented context (Lo Porto 1959, 213, n. 7, fig. 183: d; from Tomb 116 [Acclavio Street], dated to 560–550 BC). As many classes of Archaic material demonstrate, including a many discussed in this conference, findspot is no guarantee of location of manufacture.

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It may be that the kore pendant was made by an ‘amber worker’; alternatively, it may be that this amber and others were made by a craft specialist in skeletal materials, stone workers, or gem cutters, for example, owing to the characteristics of the fossil resin. Although the techniques evidenced in the kore are most like those of the skeletal materials, a ‘goldsmith’ or gemstone carver would have found soft amber pleasant to work. The  high quality of the kore pendant and its similarity to images of bronze, terra cotta, marble, and plastic elements on vases and to plastic vases suggest that the authorship should not be limited to the  materials of jewelry or miniatures. The evidence from Bronze Age workshops (for which there is more evidence than for Archaic workshops) points to the wide range of materials and a relatively small number of tools employed in multi-media productions including amber. Another way of considering the  kore has to do with its potential function as an amulet. Any one of the four kinds of high-ranking strangers named by Eumaios could have been involved in the carving of an amulet with the same subject. For more on this much-discussed passage, see the recent discussion by G. Nagy (1997, Chapter 12, section 13: http://www.press.jhu. edu/books/nagy/BofA.html), and by W. Burkert (1992, 41–87).

There is considerable evidence, both literary and archaeological, for close ties in the Archaic between South Ionia and Italy, and more specifically between Miletos and the west, with Magna Grecia and Etruria, especially. The  history of South Ionia has long been outlined and there is significant evidence for both objects and people from the area in various west Greek and Italian centers. The  Miletos-Sibaris and Sibaris-Etruscan connections are long known. In the arts, the impact of South Ionia is marked in architecture and city planning, but also in smaller scale, in bronze work, vases, ivories and gemstones. Coroplasts 18

A Kore in Amber

that the  pendant maker need have been an amber carver, per se. An artisan familiar with the working of fine woods, ivory, stone, metals, or gemstones when faced with working amber would have mastered the fossil resin in little time. Amber is very soft and pleasant to work, and needs no special tools: it can be shaped and carved with a simple tool set, abrasives, graver, sharp edge, drill and saw. Amber’s inherent peculiarities, such as flow lines, brittleness, low melting point, inclusions, or odd forms could have been mastered quickly.

Types and antecedents: kore and veil

There is much uncertainty in current scholarship about the kore type, its meaning and functions and its historical and cultural contexts. This author supports the position that marble korai represent divinities rather than human beings (when designated as individuals, they are in divine form), and the same appears to be true for small scale korai in other media, including the miniatures. As Ridgway first argued in 1977, the kore type is heavily indebted to Oriental prototypes both in rendering and in items of clothing; it  could be exploited to portray specific goddesses usually by the addition of an attribute or extra garment. Ridgway has underlined the importance of studying the  clothing of the  kore throughout her career. Writing in 1981 about another of the Getty’s korai, the marble Elgin Kore, Ridgway declared there that “most depictions of garments on statues and on vases are either ritualistic or ‘old-fashioned’ and most certainly symbolic, although the allusions may escape us today”. This comment has been borne out be later finds and recent scholarship. She also was among the first to note that the Ionian long veil is related to those worn by Anatolian women, Phrygians and others, of the Neo-Hittite period (Ridgway 2004; Llewellyn-Jones 2003).

Fig. 7. Amber lion pendant, J. Paul Getty Museum (76.AO.78) [Top view]. Photo: Museum

As part of this traditional costume, the Getty amber kore’s veil is significant. The way it is worn (including the  fact that her face is uncovered) may suggest the  status and even the name for the figure, since a veil may indicate age, social statues, the locale (out of doors), a  specific activity, or event. Llewellyn-Jones summarizes the extant evidence for veiling in ancient Greece, and provides a rich discussion of the multivalence of its meaning, including the  place of veils and veiling in the  social order. The  outer-garment could denote stages in a woman’s life-cycle and appears to have played various social and symbolic rôles though Greek culture. In Homeric epic, noblewomen (and in notable cases by their serving women), the  focus of the  cycles, wear the veil, and in 7th century BC vase painting, goddesses (Athena and Aphrodite) and well-born wives (Eriphyle and Helen) are depicted with various types of outer-garments worn over the head. A  girl’s passage to womanhood was marked by her use of the  veil; she offered her veil to Artemis on the eve of her wedding before donning a  special wedding veil (when the bride comes under the protection of Aphrodite); and as a married woman wore a veil in public, going without it only in the first stages of mourning. Llewellyn-Jones (2003, 27) reviews the complex range of Greek veil-terms and the difficulty

Fig. 8. Amber lion pendant, J. Paul Getty Museum (76.AO.78) [Bottom view]. Photo: Museum 19

F. Causey

Anthology [AP 6.280] to explain the polos-wearing ‘dolls’ from the Locrian Grotta Caruso. It  “honours Timareta, a kore who died before her marriage, but after she had dedicated her dolls to Artemis Limnatis” and “makes explicit a triple identification of korai: Timareta-kore, Artemis-kore, and the votive doll-korai. The  polos-wearing Locrian terracottas could have functioned as kore-doll gifts to the goddess while at the same time representing the korai-nymphai who were performing rituals in the  nymphaeum”.

of matching them up with their artistic counterparts. Nevertheless, it is tempting to speculate about which veil word is appropriate to the  Getty amber kore.7 The dress of the Getty amber kore re-opens many old questions about the dress of Archaic korai: do they wear real clothing as worn by real people or invention? LlewellynJones, Ridgway, Bernard Schmaltz, Mireille Lee, Catherine Keesling, Katerina Katerasi have looked at these questions again recently, and came up with in a range of responses.8 In the opinion of these authors, the dress of Getty kore is a schematized representation of traditional dress, that is, real dress which is worn in old-fashioned ways, with the oldfashioned ness intended. The then current fashions must have retained the basic format of ancient dress as known from earlier images. The static, formal aspects of the amber kore and of comparable marble korai owe much to older images of the gods, at the same time that they are fashionable (much like a Vera Wang white wedding dress). It  seems to this author that even if a model is being followed, one which itself must have retained something of a more ancient prototype, the carver must have understood the  properties and characteristics of the represented garments as worn by actual people. It is hard to imagine that the  carver of the Getty amber kore did not have first-hand knowledge of a living person wearing the ensemble, even taking into consideration the cursory nature of the forms. The cloth weights of the veil alone might suggest this.

Moorey’s observations about types and meanings are also relevant here. In his catalogue section, ‘Towards a  Better Understanding’, he remarks, “Every figurine focuses attention on two central questions: Image of? Image for? It would appear that these miniature clay images, when recurrently found in close association, were part of a single system of symbols at the time of use”. In his Schweich lectures, Moorey (2003, 6) proposes that anthropological research “[i] n the first place highlights the fact that figures of similar appearance may have represented different beings, natural or supernatural; that the same type of figurine might have multiple functions, and that in one assemblage the  same type might have had more than one function. In  the  second place, it indicates that terracotta anthropomorphic figurines do not have to conform to the tendency to regard them as necessarily representative of supernatural beings… They  may have embodied aspects of prevailing ideologies, whilst also reflecting contemporary society by encoding a variety of ritually significant knowledge relevant to the world of man and nature… in light of ethnographic analogies... clay figurines do not have to conform to our expectations for them to be representations of supernatural beings or forces rather than of living human beings acting as votaries or worshippers or perhaps of dead human beings as ancestors or ghosts”.

Active korai

The kore type may have been as flexible in meaning as were its antecedents as well as some of its terra cotta contemporaries – not only those from Greece and Italy, but also examples from the Ancient Near Eastern. The  terracotta ‘dolls’ from Locri and other sites in Magna Graecia and Sicily, from ritual as well as funerary contexts  – to signal out but one kore sub-type recently illuminated by significant publications – shed light on the possible meanings and functions of the miniature amber korai. Bonnie MacLachlan (2004, 7–8) uses a well-known epigram from the Hellenistic

Who or what is represented?

If the Getty kore pendant represents a supernatural being or force, who or what is represented? The crown and the  once-inserted eyes suggest that the figure is a  divinity. The material of the pendant, the amber, suggests the  same thing: amber is appropriate to a supernatural force, to a divinity. If an Olympian, major or minor, Artemis, Aphrodite, Leto, and Eos are possibilities. The  elements of dress and pose are also key. The amber kore has her left foot forward, holds the chiton with both hands, holding a  large fold in the left which pulls the  skirt upwards and to the   eft and in her right a modest handful of skirt. This pose, characteristic of countless korai, gives the figure a  sense of life and naturalism generally, and suggests physical activity. Is she taking small, dainty steps, the  appropriate speed for Greek girls to walk? Or is she at the start of a dance or run, or perhaps the  position of a  sudden appearance? For  Kerakasi (2003, 50–1), the  gestures of the Milesian marble korai, including some of those noted above as comparanda for the dress and style of the pendant kore, emphasize the  display of the  dress, draw attention to the  bodies beneath, and represent the figure’s movement in dance, cultic and ritual dance specifically. If the pose is read as frozen at the most

Is it the kreˉ demnon, the glistening white veil Hera covers herself with in Iliad 14; the headdress of Nausikaa and her maids; the  flowing, shining veil that Penelope wears in front of the  suitors; the shining veil worn by Andromache in Iliad 22.468–470? Or might the veil of the amber kore be the  ampekhoneˉ (or  ampekhonon), the fine and expensive outer-garment, most probably a veil, noted in antiquity for its delicacy and, semi-transparency? Although in texts the latter is noted as the stuff of hetairai, prostitutes, and even an Arcadian shepherdess, it  has divine associations. It is listed the textile dedications to major goddesses, in several cases at sanctuaries of Artemis. “On  the  Athenian Akropolis (sic!), an ampekhoneˉ is recorded as being draped over the statue of Artemis…The word occurs three times in the clothing inscriptions at the Artemis Brauronia sanctuary: on two occasions the garment is draped around the  statue ”, one of which has woven into it, ‘sacred to Artemis’ (Llewellyn-Jones 2003, 27–8). 8 See, for example, Llewellyn-Jones 2003 and Ridgway 2004, 754, with further bibliography. 7

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A Kore in Amber

important or recognizable part of a series of movements, it  can be understood “in  terms of the meaning of the larger ritual in which it was embedded” as has been said about comparable Egyptian poses (Wilkinson 1994, 205).

At Ephesus, the great hoard of perforated amber objects, partly from necklaces, excavated at the Artemision in the  cella of the peripteros; these belonged to the parure of the xoanon of the earlier sanctuary and demonstrate an early connection to the goddess. Amber was also found at the  temple of Artemis Orthia at Sparta. No such parallels have been found in sanctuaries of Aphrodite; however, a  number of Orientalizing amber pendants from Italy (Etruria and Latium) are representations of tiny standing nude females, who wear only a broad collar as ornament, and whose primary sexual characteristics are clearly indicated. (Waarsenberg 1994). Aphrodite is the divinity invoked in  the space between the end of childhood and marriage; in early Greek epic, Aphrodite is frequently connected to dancing and singing and being attended by young maidens. Artemis is always on the  go, and among the cult activities surrounding Artemis are included running and dance. (Cyrino 2004, 31, after Boedeker 1974, 63). Eos runs and flies, including with a youth in her arms, and this is how she is represented in a number of Etruscan influenced Italic carved ambers, including an early 4th century BC pendant excavated at Serra del Cedro di Tricarico.

Amber’s optical characteristics, its colors, brilliance, luminosity, and goldenness accrued to amber its solar and celestial associations. Amber might even have seemed to issue light, like the principal astral bodies, like fiery bodies, or the shimmering of light on water. Irene Winter (1994, 123) underlines that it is “the combination of light-plus-sheen yielding a kind of lustrous ness that is seen” which was particularly positive and auspicious, and sacral, not only in Mesopotamia but also in other cultures. The  divine and heroic are known by their brilliance and they characteristically shine. Divinities can also be identified by colors. In reference to the colors of amber, yellow is associated with Artemis; at Brauron, the ‘little bears’ were dressed in yellow, or saffron. Aphrodite appears in the  colors white, red and gold, also common colors of amber. Both Artemis and Aphrodite are called golden. Eos, fair-haired, has golden arms (and rosy fingers) and she is yellow-robed or saffron-cloaked. Aphrodite and Artemis are also described as fair-haired or blonde. Artemis associated regularly with torches and light and so, too, amber. As  Paul Friedrich, Deborah Boedeker, and Monica Cyrino have argued with new emphasis, Aphrodite is to be identified with the sun, and both her solar aspects and her goldenness derive from her origins as a dawn goddess. Eos is the  dawn in literature from Homer and Hesiod onwards. She is represented in art beginning in the  Archaic (not always winged), and usually wearing outer-garments with folds ready for veiling. Aphrodite is the one major Olympian goddess whose physical beauty and embellishments are always described in careful detail in the sources; indeed her intrinsic goldenness is related to the theme of adornment; it is also a sign of Aphrodite’s function as the goddess of physical beauty. Some of the  defining characteristics of Aphrodite in archaic Greek poetry include the “goddess’ solar and astral qualities” (Cyrino 2004, 31).

It may be that it is Aphrodite’s bright erotic beauty adorned with cosmetics and jewelry, her swiftness and mobility across space, her delight in sudden epiphany, and especially in the  exhibition of her body (Cyrino 2004, 31) that is present in the Getty kore. The pendant’s tiny pectoral adornment may point to Aphrodite, rather than Artemis. And as for the  amber kore’s smile, it can be likened to that of Aphrodite, the smile that Sappho might know anywhere. ([Fr.  1.3–14], from Cyrino 2004, 33, and n. 34). The eroticism of the image might also argue for Aphrodite: the garments play their age-old rôle in revealing and concealing. If the  Getty kore (as well as other Archaic korai) are seen as illustrating “the manners and customs of communities in which fertility (or maternity) is to be seen as complementary to sexuality not as its polar opposite” (Moorey 2003, 10), then greater clarity is gained about who might be represented in the  amber, why, and what activity it was involved in, to return to Moorey’s formulation. If,  in Ionia, sexuality and fertility (or maternity) were not seen as inextricably linked (i.e. that they were seen as quite separate), and fertility was not seen as the excuse for sexuality (Moorey 2003, with reference to Bahrani 1996), then the tiny amber kore may have incorporated this, too.

Amber’s inherent physical and chemical properties made it an important materia medica for both women and babies, and thus, amber was important to healers in various forms. Artemis was important from earliest times in the protection of babies, children and women (especially in childbirth), and this goddess, like her brother Apollo and mother Leto, were healing divinities – not only in the domestic sphere, but also for men at war. At Troy, Leto and Artemis healed Aeneas of his Diomedes-inflicted wounds. Amber has always functioned in protection and in the averting of danger: these are characteristics of the  Delian divinities as well as of Aphrodite. The latter is not usually thought of as a protector, but as it is recounted in the Iliad, Aphrodite enveloped her son Aeneas in her robe to shelter him on the  battlefield at Troy. Eos’ role in the transport of the  dead is well-known, and many examples are to be found in Archaic art, including in Etruscan and Italic amber.

Another possibility is Leto, the minor Olympian perhaps most often associated with successful child birth; she is a  healing divinity, the mother of Artemis and Apollo. Leto’s ancestry is Anatolian (she had a major temple in Lycia) and she was an important divinity in the Greek east through classical times. The marble kore figure from Delos (Athens, NM 22), considered by most scholars to represent Leto, is an apt comparison for the Getty amber: the marble, too, wears a long veil over her chiton, a  pectoral ornament (it is much more elaborate), and is in a movemented pose as will be characteristic of her later sculptural representations. 21

F. Causey

What ‘activity’ was the amber kore involved in?

in Novi Pazar does not contradict this assumption, as is shown in the case of the Corinthian helmet in the  probably female ‘princely’ grave from Arareva gromila at Glasinac… Finally, considering the conditions of the  excavation, nothing can be inferred conclusively about the number of the bodies buried in Novi Pazar, nor of their sex, nor of the uncertainty whether the chest found under the church is the primary or the secondary archeological context. Therefore the  issue of the sex of the owner… must unfortunately remain unresolved”.

If the original find spot of the kore were in a sanctuary, in a votive or foundation deposit, the pendant would have been a valuable offering or dedication to a female (?) divinity, in thanks, in fulfillment of a vow, or as a commemoration of an event – one that would have demonstrated the  donor’s piety, asserted his/her status, and displayed to fellow mortals the wealth and taste of the commissioner of such an object. It might be called agalma, delight, and the  donor might describe it as kosmon, an adornment for the god or shrine (Lapatin 2001, 49). These are some of the activities of the  ivories dedicated at 6th century BC Ephesus and Samos.

A third example for the Getty amber kore’s possible archaeological context is that of a well-documented Archaic burial from Italy: the tomb of a ‘princess’, that of a 6–7 year old girl, uncovered at the site of Braida di Vaglio on the  slopes of Mount Serra di S. Bernardo (Vaglio, Basilicata), excavated in 1994, and published soon thereafter. It has been dated by Angelo Bottini and Elisabetta Setari (1995; 1998; 2003) to the end of the 6th  century BC  – beginning of the 5th century BC. Over five hundred objects were inventoried from tomb 102, among them almost 300 pieces of amber. Hundreds of beads and pendants had been strung in a   omplicated pectoral ornament, which was pinned to the top garment by 25 silver fibula of Magna Graecia manufacture. At  her feet was a scepter made up of amber units. To this author, the beads and pendants range in date and style, and were not made at the same time, and were likely of various manufactures. Among the figured objects are two much worn frontal female heads and a number of pendants of animal subjects, including a large Sphinx pendant, which must date very close in time to the burial. The latter, like the New York Morgan amber and the Getty lion pendant (Figs. 7–8) mentioned above, might be seen as rooted in the art of South Ionia, and were likely expressly carved for a funerary purpose. Inside tomb 102 was also a variety of other ornaments: gold beads, a gold diadem (Ionian?), hair ornaments, an ivory disc, gilt-silver lamina; and numerous ceramic and metal vessels (Attic and other Greek types of vases, local Sub geometric ware); and also two iron spits (?). The vessels and spits suggest wine drinking and feasting, perhaps in relation to Dionysos. Although no kore pendant was among the figured ambers, the female protomes must represent divinities or supernatural forces, and the signs of rubbing on the faces suggest to this author, repeated amuletic use. This tomb, and the necropolis of ten graves, is remarkable, as the excavators have shown. Despite all that Tomb 102 offers as evidence, many questions remain: who was the deceased? Were the ambers and other objects the property of the girl in her lifetime? Was the elaborate, costly, and status-establishing jewellery a parure for the dead, prepared as part of the burial ritual and made up of family possessions, or funeral offerings, or mourner’s gifts? Was it significant that materials in her tomb (gold, silver, ivory and amber) were the same that Telemachus describes in Menelaus’ palace? If the objects were not the child’s, might they have been the family’s, clan’s or ‘client’s’? Were they made by a ‘gift’ craftsman or special gifts – as prestige gifts, the residues of a system of gift protocols, perhaps for the funeral itself? How did

Alternatively, if the Getty kore were exhumed from a  grave, as is more likely, the interment was probably that of a woman or girl, arguing from the generally correct archaeological truism, amber-female grave. If  so, many questions remain, not just those instigated by the  loss of the  archaeological context. Where in the burial would the  kore have lain? On or near the body, or with the  ashes of a cremated person? Outside the container of the remains? Was the pendant the deceased’s during her life or a post‑mortem ‘possession’, a gift, a grave offering, or a prestige object? Much recent work on burial rituals in the ancient world underscores the importance such questions. Michael Pawleta (2003) succinctly urges scholars: “we must also consider funerals as areas of [the] display of social structure and that objects in graves can comment more on mourners than on the dead.9 Particular individuals may be given specific post-mortem treatment in burial rites, grave assemblages or in a distinctive costume. Thus we may be dealing exclusively with artfefacts not belong[ing] to the  deceased but chosen by the living to convey information about their dead. From this point of view, dress should be understood as the costume of the  dead (way of dressing the corpse) rather than as the dress of the  living.10 But the fact that such practices existed, whether postmortem treatment or while the deceased was alive, reveals that they were part of a wider social structure, socially recognized, practiced and accepted”. If the Getty amber were a burial good, the documented archaeological comparanda for the Getty kore noted above, the amber korai from the Monteleone and Novi Pazar excavations provide two examples for its ancient underground context. It must be remembered, however, that the Monteleone burial was a disturbed site, and the  Novi Pazar a complicated excavation. Palavestra’s studies of the  Balkan burial underscore what is not known. He  writes (Palavestra 2003): “The composite jewelry set of amber would well support the hypothesis that the  majority of luxurious finds from Novi Pazar belong to a female burial, as is also indicated by the lack of weaponry in the  assemblage. The presence of the symbolic gold armor 9 10

Here he cites S. Lucy (1997). Here he cites M. L. S. Sørenson (1991).

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A Kore in Amber

the individual and the collective of ambers of tomb 102 ‘work’ in this context?

throughout many ancient (and modern cultures), almost any jewellery object might carry some sort of danger-averting and protective function. As Geraldine Pinch (1994, 15) remarks in her book on Egyptian magic: “it is hardly an exaggeration to say that most Egyptian jewelry has amuletic value. How conscious the wearers were of the  symbolism of their ornaments is a more difficult question”. The  same must be true for most Archaic jewellery, including an  object such as the Getty pendant. As for consciousness of the  symbolism, was this also true for the makers and givers and recipients?

The kore type as amulet and ornament

It is not known what words were used to refer to the  figured amber pendant from tomb 102, the korai from Monteleone di Spoleto and Novi Pazar, or the Getty amber kore, either in the singular or in the plural. Pliny [NH  37.11, 12], who considers a figured amber an object of luxury, nevertheless considers amber “beneficial for infants also, attached to the body in the form of an amulet” and he  describes “the female peasantry in the countries that lie beyond that river wearing necklaces of amber, principally as an ornament no doubt, but on account of its remedial virtues as well”. Pliny also uses the term alligatum for what is a pharmacological use. Another Roman, Apuleius [Apol.  56.3], might have referred to a string of amber miniatures as crepundia sacrorum. Because of the material of amber and its traditional use in medicine and magic, it is useful to consider it using both of Pliny’s words, ornament and amulet. The modern collective term, ‘jewellery’, while useful, is limiting, and fail to encompass the full significance of the material under study. The terms, ‘adornment’ and ‘object of adornment’ are also limiting, especially in their modern sense of the decorative, and in the various agencies involved in adornment.

Even if it were possible to draw precise lines of demarcation between the ancient use of amber for adornment and its part in healing, between its reputation for warding off danger and the nature of its connection to certain divinities and cults, such categorizations would only take us so far in the attempt to understand the wider picture of how amber as a material was perceived in antiquity. In the case of the amber kore, the image, the subject, the prototype and the style were critical to its meaning, value, and activity. If the amber represents Leto or Artemis, they would have directed or focused the ornament to their health and healing and protective powers. Artemis, the  torch bearer, brings light to the night, and the ancient Ephesian Artemis welcomed amber ornaments. Eos brings the  dawn light, as does Aphrodite. Eos, too, was a protective divinity, stemming from her solar aspects, and as for death, Eos  played an important role in transport, perhaps not only for male youths. If Aphrodite, the

‘Amulet’ is fruitfully applied to the amber objects discussed here even though it, too, is a loaded term, situated on a much-discussed crossroads between magic, medicine, ritual, and religion. Amulet is a modern word, derived from the Latin amuletum, used to describe a powerful or protective personal object worn or carried on the person. “Because of its shape, the material from which it is made, or even just its color”, an amulet “is believed to endow its wearer by magical means with certain powers and capabilities” (Andrews 1994, 6).11 As is well established

as elsewhere earlier in the Mediterranean world, the application of an amulet was probably very often performed in conjunction with an incantation, as R. Kotansky describes. Socrates in Plato’s Republic lists amulets and incantations as amongst the techniques used to heal the sick, a tradition which continues into the Late Antique period at least. Galen sanctions the use of incantations by doctors. (Dickie 2001, 25, and passim). In Egypt, as Andrews 1994, 6, summarizes, an amulet, at the  very least, could “afford some kind of magical protection, a concept confirmed by the fact that three of the  four Egyptian words translate as ‘amulet,’ namely mkt (meket), nht (nehet) and s3 (sa) come primarily from verbs meaning “to guard’ or ‘to protect.’ The fourth wd3 (wedja), has the same sound as the  word meaning ‘well-being.’ For the ancient Egyptian, amulets and jewelry incorporate amuletic forms were an essential adornment [ed: sic!], especially as part of the funerary equipment for the dead, but also in the costume of the living. Moreover, many of the amulets and pieces of amuletic jewelry worn in life for their magical properties could be taken to the tomb for use in the life after death. Funerary amulets, however, and prescribed funerary jewelry which was purely amuletic function, were made expressly for setting on the wrapped mummy on the day of the  burial to provide aid and protection on the  fraught journey to the Other world and ease in the Afterlife.” In the  ancient Near East, the  great variety of human problems handled by recourse to amulets is well-documented already in the  Early Dynastic period (see B. L. Goff (1963), especially Chapter 9, ‘The  role of amulets in Mesopotamian Ritual Texts’, 162–211).

11

The literature on amulets, amuletic practice, magic and ritual practice in the ancient world is vast. In addition to the  sources listed in Causey, forthcoming, other works invaluable for the  framing of this discussion of amber as amulet include Moorey 2004. The terms magic and amulet are used here in their broadest and most positive senses. Although Dickie and others argue that magic did not exist as a separate category of thought in Greece before the fifth century, practices which are later subsumed under the term did, especially the use of amulets. The use of amulets implies a continuing relationship between the object and the  wearer, continuing enactment, and the role of at least one kind of practioner. Dickie 2001, 130, concludes that the existence and wide use of amulets in Rome by the  Late Republic “leads us back into a hidden world of experts in the  rituals of the  manufacture and application of amulets, not to speak of those who sold them.” Pliny uses three different words to describe items of amber used in medicine, protection, and healing: amuletum and monile (for a necklace), and alligatum, when citing Callistratus. Greek terms for amulets include periamma and periapton. Following Kotansky 1991, n. 5, I use amulet to encompass the modern English talisman, and also the phylaketērion. The Greek recipes in the  Papyri Graecae Magicae use the latter term. In  early Greece,

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F. Causey

direction may have been to the  goddess’s characteristics of beauty, sexuality, and protection. The in-life wearing of such a  pendant might have tied the power of a specific goddess to the owner; it  may have had a specific meaning for its owner(s). Whatever may be the identity of the figure, and however it may have been used, the pendant was a high status object. Amber and necklace of amber carried Homeric and aristocratic allusions. And what about the electrostatic property of the  elektron? Was there a link to South Ionia, beyond the  style? Was its South Ionian-ness (or even possibly its Milesian-ness) a guarantor of meaning, of efficacy, of added value? Did it signal both Homer and

Thales? In  life, the  amber kore was both ornament and amulet and thus suitable for dedication: it was agalma and kosmon. In  the  rituals of burial, and in the closed grave, the pendant symbolized protection, guardianship, and well-being. What better item to accompany the dead to the Beyond? On its own, the  single kore pendant was potent, yet if part of a  larger ornament-complex, it would have taken on even greater value, meaning and significance. From the time the amber kore was unearthed, it has been appreciated as a work of art, as jewellery, as an archaeological object, and now, hopefully, in a larger frame, as a tiny window on the past.

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Greeks and the Local Population in the Mediterranean: Sicily and the Iberian Peninsula Adolfo J. Domínguez 1. Sicily (Fig. 1)

of Ortygia (the island city); afterwards, they spread themselves along the mainland (the outer city), occupying and enclosing within walls that part of the city [Thucydides 6. 3. 2]. The city became very prosperous because it had both excellent natural harbours and an  extraordinarily fertile territory [Strabo 6. 2. 4]. Archaeology has confirmed that the first Corinthian settlement took place on the island of Ortygia and the first levels of the Greek city are immediately above the destruction levels of the previous native settlement, although probably not in all places. The  chronology suggested for the Corinthian settlement by Greek pottery is between the third and fourth quarters of the  8th century (Pelagatti 1982, 125–40), which fits well with the date suggested by Thucydides. The native settlement of huts occupied all the highest part of Ortygia (Pelagatti 1977, 119–33; Frasca 1983, 565–98) and although it seems to have been destroyed by the establishment of the Greek polis, probably the ‘expulsion’ of the natives may have not been as complete as Thucydides suggests (Domínguez 1989, 182–6). Syracuse would become, in time, one the most important cities not only of Sicily, but of the whole Greek world; this was the consequence, mainly, of the expansive politics marked by the foundation of new second-generation (secondary) colonies (sub-colonies). However, as well as

We have some archaeological evidence which suggests the existence of contacts between Greeks and the coast of Sicily before the establishment of the first poleis. It  is quite possible that Greeks from Euboea (or from their Tyrrhenian establishments) explored the coasts of eastern Sicily during the second half of the 8th century, during their travels of prospecting, exploration and trade. In one of the traditions dealing with the foundation of Naxos, the  first Greek colony in Sicily, we hear that it was not until Theocles was blown off course to Sicily and discovered the  scarcity of the population and the good quality of the  land that the  region could be opened up to colonization [Strabo 6. 2. 2]. We  find the first relevant references to the  native inhabitants of Sicily in Thucydides [6. 2. 2–5] when he describes the population of the island and mentions the  three main peoples, Sicels, Sicans and Elymians. At the  same time, the foundation stories of the Greek cities also occasionally refer to the presence or absence of natives. Let us look at some examples. According to Thucydides, the first gesture of the colonists of Syracuse was to expel the natives who occupied the  island

Fig. 1. Sicily. Sites mentioned in the text 25

A. Domínguez

penetration inland to territories held by the natives and to the southern coast of Sicily during the 7th century, it  seems that the city showed very soon a clear interest in the control of the entire coastal strip from the city southwards to Helorus, 30 km distant (Copani 2005, 245–63).

led by Lamis, to expel the natives; later on, and after living together in the city for six months, the Chalcidians expelled the Megarians, allowing them to live for one winter in Trotilon [Polyaenus Strat. 5. 5]. The existence of a pact between the Chalcidians and Sicels is quite likely (Nenci and Cataldi 1983, 595–6).

The foundation of Megara Hyblaea appears to have been one of the most complex of all the first wave of Sicilian colonies. Furthermore, the different sources do not agree on all the details, which complicate the issue further (Graham 1988, 304–21). It seems, however, beyond all doubt, that a  host coming from Megara and led by Lamis, left the city more or less ‘about the same time’ that the Chalcidians were founding Naxos and the Corinthians Syracuse [Thucydides 6. 4. 1; Strabo 6. 4. 2]. It also seems certain that Megarians and Chalcidians lived together for a time in Leontini [Thucydides 6. 4. 1; Polyaenus Strat. 5. 5], and some authors even thought that Chalcidians and Megarians left Greece together [Strabo 6. 2. 2; Ps.-Skymnos 274–277 = Ephorus FGrHist 70 F 137]. It is possible that before or after their cohabitation with the Chalcidians at Leontini, the Megarians settled for a time at Trotilon, by the River Pantacias [before: Thucydides 6. 4. 1; after: Polyaenus Strat. 5. 5]. Anyway, after the unsuccessful joint experience with the Chalcidians of Leontini [PS.Skymnos 276 talks about a  stasis], the Megarians settled in Thapsos, where Lamis died [Thucydides 6. 4. 1]. They were eventually expelled from Thapsos, although we do not know who was responsible (the recently arrived Corinthians?); this would have forced some individuals to join the Corinthians who were founding Syracuse [Strabo 6. 2. 4]. It is now that the native king Hyblon gave part of his territory for the  settlement [Thucydides 6. 4. 1]. There have been numerous attempts to identify where king Hyblon might have resided and what his interest in helping the Megarians was (Bernabò Brea 1968, 161–86; Graham 1988, 312–7; De  Angelis 2003, 13–4); it is usually thought that his initiative may ultimately have failed, because it seems beyond doubt that Syracuse came to occupy the  lands previously in the  hands of the  Sicels. The  Megarians established themselves on a  calcareous plateau by the sea, only 20 km to the north of Syracuse, where there are no remains of previous native settlement. The oldest Greek pottery found there attests the date given by Thucydides (Villard 1982, 181–5; Gras et al. 2004, 86, 151, 527, 569).

From an archaeological point of view we know little about the earliest city at Leontini, although the evidence seems to confirm a period of cohabitation, or at least coexistence, between Greeks and natives, of perhaps a  greater duration than the written sources suggest (Orsi 1900, 62–98; Lagona 1973, 64–5; Rizza 1959, 78–86; 1962, 3–27; 1978, 26–37; 1981, 313–7; Frasca 1996, 142–3). The  Greek city may have been sited at Colle San Mauro (mainly in its southern part) and the native settlement, probably on the  adjacent Metapicola hill. As time passed, the  city came to include both hills and eventually, in the  valley between, the  agora and the main political buildings of the Greek city would be placed [Polybius 7. 6]. The date of foundation traditionally assigned to Leontini is 729 BC; the same also to Catane. The  archaeological evidence is compatible with this chronology (Rizza 1981, 313–7). As for Zancle, the name itself perhaps deriving from that given by the natives to the harbour area, with a  characteristic shape of a sickle (zanklon, it seems, in the Sicel language: [Thucydides 6. 4. 5]) suggests a native presence in the area. With respect to Gela, it seems that the Lindians had established a trading post in southern Sicily in the late 8th century [Thucydides 6.4.1]; a generation later, and consequent upon some difficulties in their city (a civil conflict or whatever), some of the Lindians had to leave their home. To increase their opportunities, they had to join people coming from elsewhere in Rhodos and a small group of Cretans, perhaps with a leader of their own. They might also have accepted others from the regions surrounding Rhodos (among them some individual from Telos) who wished to join them, and perhaps picked up others in the  Peloponnese. The place chosen for the  establishment was (naturally) the mouth of the River Gela where there was already one (or several) small nucleus of Rhodians. The first years of the city were very hard, at least to judge from the campaigns that the oikist himself had to lead against the neighbouring native Sicans, placed in the  polisma of Omphake, which would eventually be destroyed and plundered [Pausanias 8. 46. 2].

The foundation of Leontini was not free of difficulties, although the brief summary by Thucydides does not reveal them in detail. In fact, he says only that the  Chalcidians expelled the Sicels who lived thereabouts after a war [Thucydides 6. 3. 3]; however, when he turns to the  foundation of Megara, he mentions the period of joint residence of Chalcidians and Megarians at Leontini, before the latter were expelled by the former [Thucydides 6. 4. 1]. Strabo [6. 2. 2] also attests the relationship between Chalcidians and Megarians in Sicily in that period (as we have already seen). Polyaenus gives a more complete picture: he states that Theocles and the Chalcidians lived in Leontini together with the native Sicels, although they used the Megarians,

Gela brings to an end the first series of Greek colonies founded in Sicily. During the last third of the 8th century and the first quarter of the 7th century, colonies of Chalcis, Corinth, Megara, Rhodos and Crete were established. Each, according to the opportunities, developed its urban area, with public spaces and sanctuaries and, at the same time, began a process of expansion toward the lands previously held by the natives. The pattern of the relationships between these cities and the native world was extremely varied (Domínguez 1989, passim); however, a common feature was that all 26

Greeks and the Local Population in the Mediterranean

cities created an agricultural territory as well as an  area of influence, of greater or lesser importance, which ended up affecting the native environment. The development of trade in Greek products, which had already begun to arrive in native centres in the 7th century (sometimes earlier), is a clear mark of that interaction inaugurated by the foundation of the Greek cities.

The third Syracusan colony, Camarina, was founded in about 598 BC. In this case we do know the  names of the two oikists: Dasco and Menecolus. This most probably suggests that we are dealing with a true ktisis of a true Greek polis, although it is doubtful, judging from the  war against Syracuse (see below) that it was completely independent (Manganaro 1999, 116–7). On the  other hand, the existence of two oikists may point to the existence of two main groups of colonists one of them, at least, or Syracusan origin. We  do not know if the other could be Corinthian, as Dunbabin had suggested (Dunbabin 1948, 105). Camarina was founded on the southern coast of Sicily, whereas the other two colonies and the first Syracusan foundation, Helorus, were directed to the eastern coast. The  actual motives for this foundation are not well known but we must not forget two very important facts. On the one hand, the new city very quickly developed a political orientation absolutely opposite to that of its mother city. This brought about severe retaliation in ca. 553 BC, when it revolted against Syracuse and allied itself with the Sicels [Ps.-Skymnos 295–296; Thucydides 6. 5. 3; Philistus FGrHist 556 F 5] (Di Stefano 1988–89, 89–105). On the other hand, it is not improbable that the  foundation of Camarina was designed to prevent Geloan expansion both along the coast and in the  interior of Sicily; expansion dangerous for Syracuse and its outposts Acrae and Casmenae (Di Vita 1997, 367–8).

From the 7th century, in a process that continued to the late 6th century, the first generation colonies usually became mother cities of other new colonies in turn. But they had no need to seek distant countries to take their surplus population; Sicily itself was the destination. This did not always encourage the widening of the mother city’s horizons beyond its own borders; indeed, sometimes there was to be strife between the new colony and its remote mother city. The main difference between this new process and that which had led to the foundation of the first generation colonies is that the Greeks established in Sicily ended up knowing the island extraordinarily well, both its economic capacities and the eventual difficulties which the  creation of sub-colonies might bring about. Undoubtedly, all Greek cities always needed to increase their territories, but in  Greece itself this implied fighting Greek neighbours; in the colonial world, the expansion was at the expense of the natives, who, in the Greek view, were inferiors. This circumstance justified conquest and expulsion (Nenci and Cataldi 1983, 581–605). Even civilising and conqueror heroes such as Heracles, sometimes removed impediments to legitimate the appropriation of territory (Giangiulio 1983, 785–846; Capdeville 1999, 29–99).

Himera was, except for Mylae the only Archaic Greek colony on the northern coast of Sicily. Material of native origin, although not very abundant (Bonacasa 1981, 339– 49; Vassallo 1996, 200–1), is known at several points of the  Archaic city, which has led some scholars to suggest that there was an indigenous presence within the Greek city. Already in the Archaic period Himera had created an important agricultural territory, the lands suited to cultivation delimited by the valleys of the Himera and Torto to the east and the west, and by a range of hills (400–500 m high) to the south (Belvedere 1988a, 1–16). This territory, 700 square km in extent (Fischer Hansen et al. 2004, 199), constituted the chora proper of Himera. Surveys carried out in it, show the great interest of the  city in controlling bordering regions: it is the most distant sites that are the  first show remains of a Greek occupation during the 6th century, some clearly of a defensive character, others sacred (Belvedere 1988b, 152, 164–74, 177–85, 196–9; Muggia 1997, 86–9; De Angelis 2000, 131–3). Furthermore, Himera’s interests in inland territories are perfectly attested; they were encouraged by the course of the River Himera, at whose mouth the city had been founded (Belvedere, 1986, 91–5), but also by those of several other rivers in the region (S. Leonardo, Torto) (Belvedere 1997, 91–7). This broad territory was populated by important native settlements, still not very well known, which correspond to the area occupied by the Sican people (Vassallo 1996, 199–223). It is possible that Himeraean expansion involved armed conflict with the  natives, as an inscription dated to the first half of the 6th century, found in Samos, would suggest. In it a group of individuals (Samian mercenaries?) make an offering to the divinity (Leukaspis?, Hera Thespis?)

Syracuse founded three colonies in Sicily (besides Helorus): Acrae, Casmenae and Camarina. According to Thucydides [6.  5. 2], Acrae had been founded about 663 BC (70 years after Syracuse), Casmenae about 643 BC (20 years after Acrae) and Camarina about 598 BC (135 years after Syracuse). Undoubtedly, each of them reflected different interests of their mother city, but essentially within the same politics, especially in the case of the first two (which I shall deal with first). We have the name of an  oikist for neither, which has usually been considered as proof of their close relationship to their mother city. Perhaps they were not independent (Dunbabin 1948, 105, 109; cf. Graham 1983, 92–3; Fischer-Hansen et al. 2004, 189, 205). Contrary to the general practice for Sicily (the exception is Leontini), and unlike the remaining sub-colonies analysed here (including the third Syracusan foundation, Camarina), they were established inland, not on the coast. Thus, we  are probably contemplating centres whose main function was to secure efficient control of the territory, not for their own benefit but for that of their mother city, Syracuse (Di Vita 1987, 78–80). The two cities were established on the  upper reaches of the main rivers which bordered Syracusan territory, the  Anapo to the north and the Helorus (modern Tellaro) to the south (Collin Boufier 1987, 666–8). It is quite probable, therefore, that Acrae and Casmenae served as frontier posts, reinforcing the Syracusan presence in an area that was very important to its interests (Finley 1979, 21).

27

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in fulfilment of a vow “when the Himeraeans suffered the  assault of the Sicans” (Dunst 1972, 100–6; Manganaro 1994, 120–6).

In the last place, it seems certain that the city of Heracleia was founded by the Spartan Dorieus in the  territory of Eryx, which perhaps Segesta considered to be a threat, as did the Phoenicians of Sicily. Their actions convinced the Carthaginians to intervene, helping Segesta against the Greeks, whose city would be destroyed. Some years later, perhaps when Gelon began his rise to the power, he could have used the affair of Dorieus to intervene in western Sicily. The Carthaginian reaction, encouraged by internal strife in Himera, led to the invasion of 480 BC, concluding in the battle of Himera (cf. [Justinus 4. 2. 6–7; 19. 1. 9–12]) (Domínguez 1989, 552–63).

It has sometimes been suggested that the foundation of Selinus should be related to the eventual threat posed by the Phoenician-Punic world to the Greek world of Sicily, and it has even been said that Selinus and Himera would be part of the same buffer against the Punics (Tusa 1982, 192–4; Cordano 1986a, 122–3). This interpretation is not wholly satisfactory and we must consider several kinds of interests at work in the foundation of Selinus: trade, in relation both to the Phoenician world of Sicily and, mainly, to the natives of that region (Elymians) (Domínguez 1989, 373–8; Danner 1997, 156); a clear philo-Punic attitude, which would make Selinus take part in the traffic carried out by the Phoenicians in the Far West (Di Vita 1997, 374–9; see also Wilson 1996, 64). Finally, some scholars have suggested that Selinus could represent a similar model to its mother city, with the territory for the colony provided by the natives (Graham 1982a, 168), although this is far from clear. Lastly, acquisition of land cannot be ruled out (De Angelis 2003, 201). It is probable that all the previous interpretations have some truth to them, some others too. The territory of Selinus is not well known, but it is possible that its area of influence was wide. We know this mainly from Thucydides, who remarks that there were conflicts between Selinus and the Elyrnian city of Segesta over lands shared between them [Thucydides 6. 6.  2]. Furthermore, the  discovery of an inscription devoted to Heracles (ca.  580 BC) written in the Selinuntine alphabet, at Monte Castellazzo di Poggioreale, 25 km distant from Selinus (Piraino 1959, 159–73; Giangiulio 1983, 796–7; Dubois 1989, 84–5 [no. 84]), suggests that the city had interests over a very wide area (Nenci 1999, 216–7; De  Angelis 2003, 173–195).

During the last third of the 8th century, when most of the  first-generation Greek colonies were founded, but especially during the 7th century, the Greek cities of Sicily began to interact among themselves and with the  indigenous world. Each city had as a priority the creation of its own political and economic territory, its chora, but also the  creation of an area of influence, varying in size according to the city’s interests and capabilities. These dynamics may have caused conflicts between Greek cities and with the native world, but also brought about non-violent forms of contact which would create a political and cultural space highly innovative in many respects. The issue of the expansion of the Greek cities of Sicily has been dealt with extensively in the study of these cities. Already in the 1950s and 1960s, the journal Kokalos published a series of articles (Di Vita 1956, 177–205; Vallet 1962, 30–51; Orlandini 1962, 69–121; De Miro 1962, 122–52; Tusa 1962, 153–66.) which continue to be the starting point for all study of the Greek penetration of the native territory of the interior. As we have seen, a native involvement, greater or lesser according to the  circumstance, may be traced in almost all the Sicilian foundations (Domínguez 1989, 641–6; Leighton 1999, 234–7). In some, the written sources tell of the basic rôle played by the natives in the  foundation of the  colony (e.g. Megara Hyblaea); in others the traditions are contradictory, some asserting that rôle and others denying it (e.g. Leontini and Lipara). In yet others, the predominant tradition of the  expulsion of the natives (Syracuse) may be coloured by the light of the archaeological evidence (Nenci and Cataldi 1983, 581–605). Be that as it may, it seems undeniable that the  native question had to be considered when establishing colonies. Furthermore, the  creation by the polis of an area of political and economic dominance necessarily took place to the detriment of the territory’s previous owners (Boardman 1999a, 189), irrespective of any agreements for appropriation of such land by the Greeks. The Greek literary tradition interprets the implicit violence in this in several ways: developing the theory of empty territories before the Greek arrival (Cusumano 1995, 67–91), of legitimate occupation (in this case given ideological support by myths), or resorting to the single justification of military victory (Moggi 1983, 998).

As for Lipara, while in Diodorus’ account [5.9] its foundation took place with the collaboration of the natives, in that of Pausanias [10.11.34] (Antiochus of Syracuse), we may observe a curious fact: the author has not clearly decided whether the islands were uninhabited or whether the  Cnidians had expelled the natives before founding their city. In this case, the explanation may be revealed by a  general analysis of Antiochus’ view on the Greek colonisation in Sicily. Clearly, he preferred a view according to which a  necessary prerequisite to the founding of a  colony was the expulsion of the previous inhabitants. On several occasions, this view contrasts with other traditions that refer to varying periods of coexistence between Greeks and natives. Thus, I suggest that Antiochus’ account is absolutely appropriate to a time, such as that in which he  wrote, when his city, Syracuse, was subject to strong pan-Siceliot propaganda (for instance, [Thucydides 4. 59–64]) (Domínguez 1989, 642–3; cf. Sammartano 1996, 51–3). Archaeology helps us little to identify those eventual natives living in Lipara before the arrival of the Cnidians (Bernabò Brea and Cavalier 1960, XXVII; Cavalier 1999, 293). Furthermore, there is no archaeological evidence for a  supposed Cnidian presence on the largest island before the  foundation of the colony in the  50th Olympiad (Braccesi 1996, 33–6).

It is undeniable that Greek cities exerted strong economic pressure over areas beyond the confines of their chorai. This derived, in part, from sheer economic weight. In 28

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fact, the  very efficient mechanisms of international trade, which, as the archaeological evidence shows, maintained all the  Greek cities of Sicily from the moment of their foundation, caused every kind of manufactured goods from every part of the Mediterranean to flow through them (Dehl‑von Kaenel 1994, 346–66). Besides their use in the daily life of Greek cities and in the funerary rituals of their citizens, such goods were also used as an economic inducement to the populations living in the  vicinity of the cities. The  native élites, as well as other non-Greek societies, claimed these goods, together with the  products manufactured in the Greek cities themselves, in circumstances of social and economic competition in which ownership of Greek products became a matter of prestige. The distribution of Greek pottery through the interior of Sicily lets us trace these economic relationships (Roller 1991, 89–95; Albanese Procelli 1991a, 97–111; Giudice 1991, 199–210) and observe the important rôle played in this traffic by products such as wine and the vessels suitable for its consumption (Albanese Procelli 1991a, 105; Hodos 2000a, 41–54).

to secure them against eventual threats from the non-Greek world and the pressure exerted by other (usually adjacent) Greek cities. How they did this varied: on the one hand, establishment of sub-colonies and military outposts to secure the main routes of communication; on the other, by inclusion of important native territories within a sphere of mutual interest, grounded on establishing agreements, alliances and (sometimes) pacts of mutual security, among which we could include matrimonial agreements of the type of the epigamia, and even the inclusion of native territories in spaces of shared rights and laws. Perhaps the legal texts found at Monte San Mauro di Caltagirone may suggest the  inclusion of this centre within the area of interest of the Chalcidian cities (Procelli 1989, 682) as opposed to the  influence exerted previously by Gela. In fact, Monte San Mauro was at the limit of the Geloan area of influence, but the legal texts found there, which relate to homicide and date to the later 6th century, show a clear Chalcidian imprint, including the type of alphabet and the Ionian dialect in which they are written (Cordano 1986b, 33–60; Domínguez 1989, 298–304; Dubois 1989, 15–7 [no. 15]). Even the interpretation of it as a status symbol (Morgan 1999, 114–5) does not conflict with its use as evidence that Monte San Mauro had entered the orbit of the Chalcidian cities, acting as their true south-western border (Procelli 1989, 687). Recently, the possible rôle of Monte San Mauro as a distribution centre for Greek products, which were previously stored there, has been discussed (Albanese Procelli 1997, 17–8), and it has even been suggested that it could have been a true Greek foundation, the unknown Chalcidian colony of Euboea (Frasca 1997, 407–17).

Greek cities required a wide range of goods which they did not (could not?) produce, or produced only in small quantities, such as honey, textiles, animal products, wood, minerals (Leighton 1999, 244), herbs, and medicinal and edible plants (Tamburello 1993, 173–92), even slaves (Mafodda 1998, 21–3). Thus, we are faced with a group of places which demanded a great quantity of products and had at their disposal the means to pay for them, including products such as wine and olive-oil (which were traded with the native interior of Sicily from the later 7th century, as finds of Greek amphorae show) (Albanese Procelli 1991a, 107–11; 1996, 91–137; 1997, 3–25; 2000, 479–85; Cordano 2004, 733–809). Who carried out this trade with the  interior? For many scholars the answer is Greeks (La Rosa 1989, 92), although latterly the possible intervention of the natives is also being discussed (Albanese Procelli 1997, 18–9). NonGreek areas in the environs of Greek cities became their true economic satellites. This may even have extended to the introduction of new ways of production and new agricultural techniques in order to satisfy the cities’ needs. At the same time, such new ways of production could encourage the development of new productive strategies by the natives, as suggested, for instance, by the existence of new pottery shapes of non-Greek manufacture (Antonaccio 2004, 55–81). Thus, in central and eastern Sicily (later 7th  – early 6th century BC), we know the existence of native storage vessels, as well as the manufacture of a  type of native amphora, although with Greek influence, supposedly devoted to the  storage and transport of some liquid, perhaps hydromel. This type of amphora does not appear in the  Greek cities (Albanese Procelli 1996, 125–6; on the  native pottery, see also Trombi 1999, 275–95). Sometimes the Greek cities took on an  aggressive posture, which was mirrored in the native world by the rise of defence works (Procelli 1989, 682).

The various Greek cities, with their different methods and traditions, created different native ‘cultural provinces’. This helps to explain the opposed interests among the  different native regions in later times (La Rosa  1989, 54; 1996, 524), and provides a coherent means for  understanding better how each city constructed its own area of dominance, allowing sketchy interpretations, which supposed that Chalcidian colonists pursued peaceful means whilst the  Dorians used violence, to be abandoned (Sjöqvist 1973, 36–7; against, Domínguez 1989, 177,  248). A phenomenon observable at Monte San Mauro but also known in a  good part of native Sicily during the  6th  century (earlier in some places), is the progressive appearance of a  certain urbanism, as well as prestige (religious or political) buildings, even dwellings, which assume a Greek aspect. This is the case, for instance, with a group of pastas houses discovered in Monte San Mauro during the 1980s, perhaps having a special significance within this important centre (Domínguez 1989, 300–1; Cordsen 1995, 111–4; Leighton 2000, 36–7). In other places, dwellings of Greek type, single or in groups, are also accompanied by the  rise of a regular urbanism, which seems to copy or adapt Greek models. This influence may also be observed in the development of funerary rituals, although the implications there are deeper. A list of these centres is long and they are known, to a greater or lesser degree, in all the  regions of Sicily exposed to the influence of Greek cities, irrespective of ethnic affiliation: such centres are present both in

At the same time, the Greeks sought control of those areas of production basic to their economic development, 29

A. Domínguez

the part of Sicily inhabited by the Sicels and in those in which dwelt Sicans and Elymians (Martin  et  al. 1980, 706–64). The  best known are Serra Orlando (Morgantina) (Domínguez 1989, 150–8), Monte Bubbonia (Domínguez 1989, 292–6), Monte Saraceno (Domínguez 1989, 311–5; Calderone 1999, 203–12), Monte  Sabucina (De Miro 1983, 335–44, 1999, 187–93; Domínguez 1989, 316–24), Segesta (Domínguez 1989, 390–400) , Vassallaggi (Domínguez 1989, 448–52) and, most recently, Monte Polizzo (Morris  et  al. 2004,  197–279).

the  rise of a  new ethnic consciousness among the  non‑Greek peoples  of  Sicily2 perhaps related to the rise or development of political structures of monarchic type (La Rosa 1996, 532). This perspective is, perhaps, better than the one which tries to quantify mechanically how many Greek and native elements appear in a certain place in order to detect the  identity of their bearers: that has been adequately criticised (Antonaccio 1997, 171–2; 2001, 113–57; Thompson 1999, 464–9). As R. R. Holloway has summarised it, “one may say that between the extremes of Greek and Sicel there seems to have existed a middle ground of cities where both elements merged, but merged in different ways in different places” (Holloway 1991, 93)3. In the case of Morgantina, the presence of Greek speakers seems attested for the  6th  century by the  presence of graffiti written in Greek, both in the  archaic settlement and in the necropolis (Antonaccio 1997, 167–93; Lyons 1996a, 145, 193; Antonaccio and Neils 1995, 261–77), and we cannot discard the possibility of mixed marriages. That does not imply a hegemonic position for the Greeks but it can suggest, at least in this instance, Greek intervention in the creation of a new ethnic identity. If we widen the  panorama to embrace to the rest of Sicily, I think that the  rise of different non-Greek ethnicities was perceived, and even used, by the  Greeks, as a  mean of apprehending and controlling these native territories for their own benefit. A  different matter is that this process, as time went on, could act against the Greeks themselves, as the  episode of the Sicel revolt lead by Ducetius in the  mid‑5th century might suggest (Domínguez 1989, 563–9).

Perhaps the important feature is the transformation from village-type (komai in Greek) to urban structures (poleis), as a text of Diodorus [5. 6] referring to the Sicans suggests (Testa 1983, 1005–6; cf. Leighton, 2000, 21–2). In it Diodorus perhaps does not preclude the existence of a political organisation among the Sicans, but only mentions the dispersed and slightly organised character of their ancient way of settlement1. The complexity of the  territorial organisation of the native settlements, at least from the 6th century onwards, with an evident hierarchy among them, has been revealed recently through a survey carried out in the surroundings of Morgantina (Thompson 1999, 389–91, 486–8). An old debate about the ‘Hellenisation’ of these centres had as its main question the possibility that Greeks could have lived there, thus being responsible, in a certain way, for the various developments (La Rosa 1989, 54). A typical case of the change in interpretation is represented by Serra Orlando (Morgantina), where the strong Hellenisation of the  settlement and the necropoleis from the second quarter of the 6th century had been considered as a consequence of the  arrival and establishment of Greeks in the region (Sjöqvist 1962, 52–68; 1973, 68) living with the natives (Domínguez 1989, 151–2; Procelli 1989, 685). However, more recent studies prefer to emphasise the creation of a more complex and multicultural local society, where the stimuli brought by the Greeks had been adapted and reinterpreted within that non-Greek society (Lyons 1996a, 129–33; 1996b, 177–88; Antonaccio 1997, 180–8; Morgan 1999, 98–104).

Consequently, the Greek penetration of the interior of Sicily has to be considered as a long process with several stages, each very different from the other from a qualitative and quantitative point of view. In it, we find actions of very different kinds taken in response to different needs. Thus, for instance, the need to consolidate an initial area of political and economic domination of a newly-founded city explains the actions carried out by the oikist Antiphemus of Gela against the native centre of Omphake [Pausanias 8. 46. 2; 9. 40. 4] or those carried out by Phalaris against the indigenous surroundings of Acragas [Polyaenus 5. 1]. In  addition, the end of some native settlements neighbouring Greek cities, as may be the case with Pantalica, has usually been interpreted from that perspective (Orsi 1912, 301–408; Bernabò Brea 1990, 64–5, 101). At the same time, the  increase of population in other centres (e.g. Morgantina) seems to have been the result of the displacement of native populations from areas of Sicily already occupied by Greeks (Thompson 1999, 485).

In any case, and although we accept that ‘Hellenisation’ as a term and concept “usually applied to the transformation of the way of life of non-Greek residents in the Greek colonial sphere of influence, does not adequately account for the reciprocities of intercultural contact” (Lyons 1996a, 132), we must certainly accept that Greek modes of expression, the formal and ideological language, the  mixed concepts of religion and politics were responsible for On the concept of kome, see Hansen 1995, 45–81; on the use of polis as a generic word for state, see Hansen 1997a, 9–15. 2 This was already observed by Finley (1979, 20) when he wrote: “It is certain that Hellenization did not immediately destroy their self-consciousness as Sicels or their desire to remain free from overlordship from original Greek settlements”. Thompson (1999, 463) has also observed how “Hellenization was not simply a process of becoming Greek but was, just as importantly, a process of becoming Sikel”. A review of recent scholarship in La Rosa 1999, 159–85. 1

The creation of the economic and political territories of Greek cities introduced a certain transitory stability to the  non-Greek world. The beginnings of the exploitation of these territories by Greeks meant the rise of an intensive agrarian economy, and the generally coastal location of 3

The use of concepts such as “middle ground” has been also applied to other colonial regions: Malkin 2002b, 151–81.

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the cities, meant their rapid absorption into the pattern of  circulation of goods through the Mediterranean. Although perhaps not the consequence of predetermined action, it  is true, as Strabo [6. 2. 4] observes, that “the Greeks would permit none of them [the barbarians] to lay hold of the seaboard, but were not strong enough to keep them altogether away from the interior”. Undoubtedly, this fact made the Greek cities economic centres with a wide hinterland and reach, supplying the native interior with prestige goods and consumer items. In turn, the interior came to supply raw materials and, especially, services. We find in the written sources information about the basic agrarian character of the island’s interior. Strabo mentions that although Hybla did not exist in his time, its name had been preserved thanks to the excellence of Hyblaean honey [6. 2. 2]; he also praises the quality of the lands covered by volcanic ash for producing excellent wine and cattle, both in the territory of Catane and, in general, all the lands affected by the eruptions of Aetna [6. 2. 3], as well as the  general wealth of the island [Strabo 6. 2. 7].

be explained with reference to the changes affecting the  non‑Greek world. In fact, there was a clear desire by the native élites to adopt aspects of the economic model represented by the Greek cities (Boardman 1999a, 190), whilst many non-Greek communities were developing an intense multi-cultural character. The 6th century was the great period of Greek action in the native world of Sicily and it is then that we can seek, for the first time, the earliest manifestations of native cultures that were beginning to express their own political and ideological identity using mechanisms adapted from the Greeks. Thus, the non-Greek epigraphy of Sicily was used for the same purposes as Greeks deployed their own writing. It gives us an interesting means to perceive how native uses and customs were adopting a Greek mode of expression, while Greek concepts were beginning to penetrate to the native world. Examples as interesting as the public inscription of Mendolito (Albanese Procelli 1991b, 546), where terms referring to the community (touto) or others perhaps mentioning armed youth (verega) (Zamboni 1978, 988; Prosdocimi 1995, 66–7), show the  use of Greek inspired writing with a public projection to proclaim socio-political structures of a clearly non-Greek nature. Also inscriptions of probably private use, such as that on an askos of Centuripe (Albanese Procelli 1991, 107), or the  painted text added before firing on the  local amphora from Montagna di Marzo, show customs probably Greek but seen through native eyes. In fact, the inscription on the  amphora seems to mention individuals with Greek names, but is written according to the rules of Sicel phonetics (tamura or eurumakes) (Montagna di Marzo 1978, 3–62; Agostiniani 1991, 33–4) and the use to which it was put was drinking (Prosdocimi 1995, 68–73). We might add some other epigraphical evidence showing possible bilingualism, with texts written in native tongues but with words of possible Greek type (emi,  tode) 4, or the  interesting case of the funerary epigraph of Comiso (6th century), written in Greek, where an individual relates how he has buried his parents, at least one of whom (the father) carries a Sicel name (Pugliese Carratelli 1942, 321–34; Dubois 1989, 140–1 [no. 127]).

It is possible that the early interest of Catane in the far interior may explain the arrival in some native centres of great quantities of Greek prestige goods, such as the bronze tripods at Mendolito, amongst a great hoard of bronze (more than 900 kg) dated to the 8th and 7th centuries (Albanese 1988–89, 125–41; 1989, 643–77; Albanese Procelli 1993, 109–207). Of course, the native response is also interesting because hoards such as those of Mendolito and Giarratana, may imply processes of accumulation of wealth, perhaps related to civil or religious powers (Albanese Procelli 1995, 41). A further step would imply Greek desire to establish a  more direct control over these territories, partly to obtain the profits from their natural resources, partly to get higher revenue by forcing the natives to pay tribute. Syracuse seems to have been the most efficient city in establishing such control, as the foundation of sub-colonies on the  borders of the territory subject to its control indicates. However, such a  policy does not seem to have been pursued widely elsewhere on the island and other cities may have used different tactics. In addition to the  trade existing between native centres and Greek cities, undeniable from an  archaeological point of view, we may think of the  presence of Greeks in the native centres. The  existence of Greek graffiti in different places of Sicily (Dubois 1989, passim) as well as the development, from the mid6th century, of indigenous writing clearly based on Greek alphabets (Agostiniani 1991, 23–41; 1992, 125–57; 1997, 579–81) may indicate the penetration of native territories by individual Greeks.

Similar development perhaps took place also in native religion, a subject not very well known, although some of their gods, such as the Palici (Bello 1960, 71–97; Croon 1952, 116–29; Cusumano 1990) or Adrano (Cusumano 1994, 151–89; Morawiecki 1995, 29–50), whilst preserving features of their own, also suffer a process of Hellenisation, even of appropriation by the Greeks to integrate them into their own mythical universe (Manganaro 1997, 81–2). This is especially evident in the case of the Palici, whose use by Aeschylus in the Aetnaeans (ca. 472 BC) may be interpreted either as a fusion of the Greek and the  native (Corbato 1996, 67) or, perhaps more correctly, as an expropriation by the Greeks of native traditions in order to justify Greek political domination

We have previously discussed, with respect to Morgantina, different interpretations of that eventual Greek presence. In  most instances it was not hegemonic; consequently, we cannot consider these Greeks as spearheads of an  imperialist policy directed from the Greek cities. However, it seems beyond doubt that the increased political and economic activity of the Greek cities in their hinterland may

Emi in Elymian inscriptions: Agostiniani 1991, 40–1; 1992, 145. Also, in a graffiti from Morgantina: Antonaccio, Neils 1995, 261–77; and in another from Castiglione di Ragusa: Wilson 1996, 74. Tode in a funerary inscription from Licodia Eubea: Agostiniani 1991, 41; 1992, no. 13. 4

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in general and, more concretely, the dispossession of native lands carried out by Hieron during the foundation of his city Aetna, in the  territory of ancient Catane (Basta Donzelli 1996, 94–5). As for the  manifestations of the indigenous religion, these vary in the different parts of Sicily; thus, in eastern Sicily (the area traditionally assigned to the  Sicels) the  native cult places are not very well known, although some votive deposits and some possible sacred building inspired by Greek models are certainly mentioned (La  Rosa 1989, 57–9). As for central/southern Sicily (the Sican area), some sacred buildings of great interest are known in places such as Sabucina and Polizzello. Those buildings reproduce the model of native huts (the so-called hut-shrines), although introducing architectural elements (and perhaps ritual practices) of Greek type (De Miro 1983, 335–44; 1999, 187–95; Mambella 1987, 13–24; La Rosa 1989, 62–4; Leighton 1999, 262–3). Lastly, in the Elymian area (western  Sicily) the case of Segesta is outstanding. Here, as well as the well-known unfinished Doric temple, dated to the later 5th century (Mertens 1984), an  Archaic sanctuary (contrada Mango) dated to the  beginnings of the 6th century and apparently of purely Greek type is also known (Tusa 1961, 31–40; 1992, 617–25). Recently, a series of bronze artefacts from that sanctuary, perhaps corresponding to a native votive deposit, has been published (Di Noto 1997, 581–6).

(Ragusa). The  location of his campaigns would suggest that Hippocrates was interested in conquering the area surrounding the territories of Camarina and Syracuse (Luraghi 1994, 154–5). The difference between the  policies initiated by Hippocrates and those carried out previously by the Greek cities is great: Greek cities had carried out a  process of control and influence over their environs within a dynamic of expanding frontiers (Vallet  1983b, 942–5). However, the new policies of Hippocrates forced Gela to intervene in areas in which it had never before shown the  slightest interest. Clearly, this was an  imperialist policy (Luraghi 1994, 129–30) in which the  tyrant even seems to have included the Sicels, using them as mercenaries and establishing alliances with them to obtain troops (cf.  Polyaenus, who mentions mercenaries, misthophoroi and allies, symmachoi, among the Ergetians) (Luraghi  1994, 166 –7; Tagliamonte 1994, 99 –102; Mafodda  1998, 25–8). According to another scholar, the rise of Sicel mercenaries might have been the result of the evolution of the warrior aristocracies previously existing in Sicily, who had modified their way of life because of the action of the  Greek cities (La  Rosa 1989, 90). At the same time, the  usual changes of population carried out by the  tyrants must have affected the native world (Manganaro 1999, 118–9).

The panorama outlined so far is proof of the increasing complexity of the archaic world of Sicily, where new ideas arriving in the non-Greek world from Greek cities were immediately echoed by the natives. This shows how the  non-Greek world of Sicily had come within the area of economic interest of the Greek cities, perhaps even that of political interest. The inscription at Monte San Mauro (mentioned above), perhaps placed in a sacred or prestigious building (Spigo 1986, 1–32), could talk about the juridical aspect of the relationships between Greek cities and natives. The  well-known cause of the disputes between the Greek city of Selinus and the Elymian city of Segesta, matters relating to marriage laws between the two (implying certainly the  epigamia) [Thucydides 6. 6. 2] undoubtedly point in the same direction. Furthermore, the shelter given by the natives of Maktorion to the Greeks of Gela who fled their city in consequence of a stasis [Hdt. 7. 153] may reflect close relationships between both communities. Finally, the help given by the Sicels of south-eastern Sicily to Camarina in its fight against its mother city Syracuse [Philistus FGrHist 556 F 5] is remarkable when we consider that this part of Sicily had remained quite hostile to Greek influence for a good part of the 7th century (Domínguez 1989, 547; Leighton 1999, 245–6).

Henceforth, the deep interaction between natives and Greek cities, especially those which carried out an  imperialist policy, such as Syracuse after its conquest by Gelon [Hdt.  7.  156], would be very intense. There were, however, to be moments of special tension such as the refoundation of Catane as Aetna by Hieron (476/5 BC) and the transfer there of 10,000 new colonists, 5,000 from the Peloponnese and the  other 5,000 from Syracuse, as well as the enlargement of the  territory of the new city compared with that held by Catane [Diodorus 11.  49] (Domínguez 2004a, 47–75). This seizure of territory from many native communities led, after the fall of the  tyranny, to a fight by the Sicels, under Ducetius, to restore the  old balance [Diodorus 11. 76] (Manganaro 1996, 32–3), although this became subsumed in a campaign, perhaps the most interesting of whose objectives was the creation of a synteleia or political and military alliance which, in Diodorus’ words [11. 8] included all the Sicel poleis which were of the same race (homoethneis) except Hybla. Related to this last, it is also probable that we must ascribe to Hellenic influence the creation of ethnic identities among the non-Greek peoples of Sicily, mainly Sicels, Sicans and Elymians, already perfectly delineated in Thucydides [6. 2. 2–5], who would have taken such data from the  Syracusan historian Antiochus (Anello 1997, 539–57). It is difficult, of course, to know how far Greek views on the formation of ethnic identities among the pre-Greek inhabitants of Sicily were accepted by these groups, if at all. At the same time, it is usually futile to seek to establish relationships between Greek myths and legends and archaeological evidence (Leighton 1999, 215–7).5 However, in some instances we  can

A final phase in the relationships between Greek cities and non- Greek communities during the Archaic period is that begun during the tyranny of Hippocrates of Gela. He  directed his actions against Chalcidian territory, attacking Callipolis, Naxos, Zancle and Leontini, as well as “numerous barbarian cities” [Hdt. 7. 154]. One of the  Sicel cities he conquered was Ergetion [Polyaenus  5.  6] and Hippocrates would die during the  siege of the  Sicel city of Hybla [Hdt.  7. 155], perhaps Hybla Heraea

5

Serrati (2000, 9) has rightly observed that “in terms of archaeology there appears to be very little difference between the indigenes of the island”.

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east wind. In  Tartessos, ‘unexploited emporion’ at that time, he obtains extraordinary profits, which enable him to dedicate as a  votive offering a huge bronze cauldron in the sanctuary of Hera in his city. These first contacts by the Samians were possibly interrupted as a result of significant political changes affecting the city of Samos in the last years of the 7th century BC (Domínguez 1991, 131–47; Shipley 1987). It is surely because of this that another reference can be found in Herodotus to the discovery of Tartessos. According to this, other Greeks, the Phocaeans, also claimed to have discovered it. It can be seen from his story that the Phocaeans claimed to have discovered the Adriatic Sea, Tyrrhenia, Iberia and Tartessos. In Tartessos they became friends with the king, Arganthonius, thanks to whom Phocaea obtained innumerable riches. Thanks to Herodotus, we know that the Greeks established a relationship of philia with the Tartessian leaders, which allowed the exchange of goods, from which the polis of Phocaea obtained substantial profits (chremata), to the extent that it was able to pay for the construction of a large and elegant wall (Özyiğit 1994, 77–109.).

see how some native groups, for instance the Elymians, may have used their identity, in this case insistence on their Trojan origin [Thucydides 6. 2. 3], as a means of stressing their rivalries with the Greeks (Nenci 1987, 921–33; Braccesi 1989, 107–14; Capdeville 1999, 45–6).

2. The Iberian Peninsula (Fig. 2)

Before considering the Greek presence in the Iberian Peninsula, it is important to note that, in contrast with other Mediterranean regions that had Greek colonies, real apoikiai, only two Greek cities can be distinguished: Emporion and Rhode. In the rest of Iberia, Greek activity was mainly commercial, not calling for the establishment of permanent settlements: at most there might have been coastal towns in which stable Greek communities could have existed, although only at certain periods. Thus, instead of talking about ‘colonisation’, current research favours the  more neutral term ‘presence’. The first references to a Greek presence are found in Herodotus, and are again controversial: they can be considered as half way between legend and historical fact. In two different parts of his work, and in two different contexts, he mentions two ‘discoveries’ of the  Peninsula by Greeks from different places. In 4. 152, within the  logos dealing with the founding of Cyrene, he introduces an  excursus in which he talks about the arrival in Tartessos of the Samian nautes Kolaios, driven by the

The interpretation of Herodotus’ information has always generated intense debate. This is not the place to analyse the  arguments in detail (Olmos 1986, 584–600; 1989, 495–521). I will simply say that until a few years ago the  absence of significant finds pointing towards the  existence of important trade links with the Greeks in

Fig. 2. The Iberian Peninsula. Sites mentioned in the text 33

A. Domínguez

the southern part of the Iberian Peninsula, which is where Tartessos must have been located, whatever the precise location of the place reached by Kolaios and ruled by Arganthonios might have been, made it difficult to accept Herodotus’ story (More1 1966; 1982). However, the increase in archaeological excavations in Spain over recent decades is providing new insights, which are helping to clarify the  problem of the commercial links between Greece and the Peninsula. In the city of Huelva, on the Atlantic coast and one of the main sea ports of the Tartessian world, what seems to have been an area of harbour warehouses of the old indigenous city, has been excavated. The city was already under the strong influence of Phoenician trade (Fernandez Jurado 1985, 49–60), and a powerful aristocracy, strongly orientalised, settled in the hills surrounding the  harbour area and was buried in graves with rich grave goods (even chariots) (Garrido, Orta 1989).

A direct consequence of the frequent visits of the  Phocaeans to the Iberian coast was the creation of a network of places to be used as ports of call and eventual residence during their long journeys from the Eastern Mediterranean (Alvar 1979, 67–86). For this reason, small settlements or emporia developed from early on, fulfilling this function as well as acting as places of trade exchange with the native population (Domínguez 1986b, 601–11; Cunliffe 1993, 66–7). Of all these places, it is Emporion, on the  north-eastern coast of the Iberian Peninsula, which would eventually develop a  political structure as well as its own character (Domínguez 1986a, 3–12; 2004b, 164–5). The founding of Emporion is described especially by Strabo [3. 4. 8–9], who recounts that the first Phocaean settlement, at a place eventually called Palaiapolis, was located on a small island off the coast. It  would later be transferred to the mainland. Archaeological investigation has shown that this order of events is, in general terms, correct. The first remains of the  Greek presence, from about 600 BC, belong to the place now called San Martin de Ampurias, which in earlier times was indeed an island. It has been observed that even before the construction of the first Greek houses around 580 BC, the Greeks pursued commercial activities on this island, which was controlled by the natives (Aquilué 1999).

It is in the harbour area that a significant amount of Greek pottery has been found. Although these finds are fewer than those of indigenous pottery and ceramics of Phoenician influence, they have opened new perspectives on the question of the Greek trade presence in the  Tartessian world. Following the contacts begun in the last third of the 7th century, at the beginning of the 6th century BC onward objects, especially pottery, arrived in Huelva (and other places in the south of the  Peninsula) from East Greece and, to a lesser extent, Athens, although not in large numbers. From around the  year 580 BC commercial exchanges increased, judging by the numbers of objects discovered. The  pottery still came mainly from East Greece, and Athenian products were present, but items from Corinth and Massalia also began to appear, as well as a few from Laconia. They are, for the most part, dinking containers, especially Ionian cups of different origins. There are also transport amphorae from East Greece, Athens, Corinth and Western workshops: three quarters of them were used to transport olive oil. Towards the  middle of the 6th  century there was a sharp reduction in imports, as well as a  change in their nature: the quantity of East Greek pottery decreased, although this was partly counterbalanced by maintaining the  number of vases imported from Athens and by an  increase in products made in Massalia. This tendency strengthened from 540 BC or thereabouts: no more East Greek pottery was imported and only a few Attic vases arrived in Huelva (Domínguez and Sánchez 2001, 5–16).

It was not until the middle of the 6th century BC, some 30–40 years after Palaiapolis was founded on the  island, that the settlement was transferred to land to the south of the island, which contemporary scholars refer to as Neapolis. This was a bigger island, surrounded by marshes, and the  area inhabited by the natives was perhaps its western part (Rovira and Sanmartí 1983, 95–110). The  Greeks initially occupied the northern part of what would become the town. This, as has been observed and as the archaeological finds indicate, grew towards the south with time (Sanmartí 1992b, 173–94; Dupré 2005, 103–23). I will deal later with the appearance and development of Emporion. Rhode is described by Strabo [3. 4. 8] as being situated in the modern town of Rosas, some kilometres to the north of Emporion. According to him, it was “a small town belonging to the Emporitans” (polichnion Emporiton) and, although there are some who suggest that it may already have existed in the 6th century BC, the truth is that the  oldest archaeological remains do not predate the  5th  century (Martín, Nieto and Nolla 1979, 4; Domínguez 1990, 13–25). It is quite probable that one of the original functions of both Rhode and Emporion was to act as an arrival and departure point for ships on their voyage through the Gulf of Lion (Ruiz de Arbulo 1984, 1 15–40).

The abundance of metals was the reason for the long journey from East Greece to the far West. Once in western waters, the Phocaeans explored the coast in search of water and anchorage, and simultaneously studied the natural resources of the country. This allowed them, during the  peak of trade relations with Tartessos, to establish trading posts or emporia, which would make their activities easier (More1 1992, 15–25). The result of this period of intense exploration was the creation of centres which, like Massalia, Emporion or Alalia (and maybe others on the Iberian coast), originated as part of the same impulse, however different their fortunes (Sanmartí 1992a 7–41; Gras 1985, 393–423).

A passage from Strabo [3. 4. 6] indicates the existence between New Carthage and the River Jucar, and near the  latter, of three trading posts or small Massaliot towns (polichinia Massalioton), of which the best known (and the  only one mentioned by Strabo) is Hemeroskopeion, which has a sanctuary for Ephesian Artemis on a promontory. Despite the uncertainty surrounding these settlements – they have even been called ‘ghost colonies’ – and although 34

Greeks and the Local Population in the Mediterranean

there are no specific archaeological remains to provide the proof (Martín 1968), some arguments have recently been put forward again, which locate Hemeroskopeion in the area around Denia (Rouillard 1991, 299–303; Pena 1993, 61–77; cf. Domínguez 1986b, 601). Another of these settlements is probably Alonis, both town and island, according to Stephanus of Byzantium, which thanks to a Roman Itinerary, the Anonymous of Ravenna, we can locate around Santa Pola (Llobregat 1983, 225–42), in direct relation with the  old lagoon area (Sinus Illicitanus), at the end of which there emerged the important native centre of Illici (Rouillard 1991, 303–6).

but also in Eastern Andalusia: these sculptures possess a  figurative and iconographic nature that undoubtedly harks back to Hellenic prototypes. The clearly indigenous origins of this kind of sculpture cannot be understood without reference to the techniques of and training by Greek craftsmen. The  explanation for its origins has to be looked for in the internal mechanisms of the native communities in the south-east of the Peninsula. They were beginning to develop a complex social organisation that required works of art as a sign of prestige, emphasising the power of the élite. It should be noted that this type of sculpture is undoubtedly Iberian in character; it is not ‘provincial’ Greek art, as was thought some time ago, nor is it an  imitation of Greek sculpture. It is a genuinely Iberian form of expression, which merely makes use of the techniques and the formal and decorative repertoire of Greek art. With these elements, Iberian craftsmen produced works with a distinctive character, which served ideas and social structures that had nothing to do with those of Greece (Domínguez 1999, 301–29).

What characterises the Phocaean model of colonisation is the close relationship established with the local environment: among the Tartessians of Huelva, the natives in the  south‑east of the Peninsula, the people of the Gulf of Rosas or the Ligurians in Massalia, the Phocaeans settled within the shadow of the existing inhabitants. The same is probably true in the south of the Peninsula, in those places under clear Phoenician domination. Naturally, in those places where the existing inhabitants were stronger and more numerous than the Phocaeans themselves, no stable political structure emerged. It is also true that the  commercial activity (emporia) of the Phocaeans did not require much infrastructure (Lepore 1970, 20–54), as long as the local authorities guaranteed a  fair and peaceful trading environment (Domínguez 2001, 27–45). Under those conditions, all that was needed was a  number of trading posts or emporia for bringing together the different natural resources, which would then be traded commercially by the Phocaeans themselves throughout the  Mediterranean (Domínguez 1986b, 603–6; 2000, 241–58).

Another element to reveal the strong link between the  Greeks and the regions in the south-east of the peninsula was the development of a type of written script derived from Greek. There had been writing systems in Iberia for centuries. They had developed within the context of Tartessian culture (De Hoz 1989, 523–88; Correa 1993, 521–62). However, nowadays there are the provinces of Alicante, Murcia and, latterly, Valencia – the same area in which the sculpture had developed, where a type of alphabetic script for the transcription of the Iberian language, based on an Ionian alphabet, existed. Although the  existing features of this script correspond to the  4th  century BC, experts argue, on the basis of palaeographic and epigraphic considerations, that such a system must have originated in the first half, most probably the second quarter of the  5th  century (De Hoz 1985–86, 285–98). The  connexion between this writing and the development of commercial interchanges between Greeks and Iberians has also been stressed (De Hoz 1994, 259–60).

As mentioned earlier, Greek imports to the Tartessian centre in Huelva decreased considerably from around the  year 540 BC. Without doubt, the capture of Phocaea by the Persians, as well as a restructuring of trade affecting the central Mediterranean (Domínguez 1991c, 239–73), influenced the transformation of Phocaean commerce in Iberia. These processes affected and interrupted trade between the Greeks and Tartessians, and occasioned a  reorganisation of commercial strategies. Those centres which had emerged in the south-east of the Peninsula now started to play a significant rôle. At the end of the 6th century, they began to develop an intense relationship with the local population. This must have been quite specific in nature, since the main evidence – Greek pottery – is not present in significant quantities in the south-east of the Iberian Peninsula until the middle of the 5th century BC (Domínguez and Sánchez, 2001; Domínguez, 2001–2, 189–204; 2003, 201–4). There are other indicators which provide a clue to the type of relationship established: they are related not to Greek activities in themselves but to the  consequences of such activities on the native population.

Thus, both sculpture and writing appear as forms of expression controlled by native élites. It was they who regulated trade with the Greeks and acquired techniques and knowledge from them, which they then used as a  sign of their own prestige – of their lineage and of their ‘cities’. Although I think that the Greeks developed a complex “colonialist agenda” (Domínguez 2002, 65–95) it is too simplistic, as some reviewer has done, “to place agency entirely in the hands of sinister Greek traders” (Brumfield, 2005, 135). All this indicates how profound and intense were the contacts between Greeks and the south‑east of the  Peninsula: a true gateway for the resources of the  interior. There is little doubt that Emporion should be considered responsible for these contacts. Clear evidence for trade relations between Emporion and the Iberian coast is the discovery, in excavations in the Greek town itself, of a lead letter in which, despite some gaps, reference is clearly made to the commercial

The first indicator is Iberian stone sculpture. From the  end of the 6th century BC groups of sculptures began to appear, especially in the south-east of the Peninsula, 35

A. Domínguez

relations between the Emporitans and the native settlement of Saigantha, through the intervention of one Basped[…], possibly a native, whose job was also to tow ships and whose services are recommended by the writer. This document may date to the end of the 6th century BC, and it has been fairly convincingly suggested that the  town of Saigantha could be Saguntum, which the Greeks called Zakantha/Zakynthos. The text seems to have been written by a Greek who used the northern Ionian dialect, with some Aeolisms, which points to its Phocaean nature. This is highly significant, since it provides evidence of the  trade links between Emporion and the native territories in the  Peninsula, as well as the relation between this Greek centre and other Phocaean settlements in the West (Sanmarti and Santiago 1987, 119–27; Santiago 2003, 162–72).

consideration the distribution of the pottery, and studies of the road layout, it seems beyond doubt that the pottery found comes from the south-eastern coast of Iberia, in particular the area between the Cape of Palos (Los  Nietos, province of Murcia) and the mouth of the  Rivers Segura and Vinalopó. New light on the question is shed by the  recently published excavation of the fortified settlement of La Picola, in Santa Pola, which shows a regular layout and defensive system of clear Greek inspiration. It may have served as the harbour or the emporion for the native town of Illici, and Greek intervention seems clear. It was built towards the mid-5th century and used until ca. 330  BC. All the  construction seems to have been based on the  use of a foot (29,7 cm), certainly the same as that used in Emporion (Badié et al. 2000).

The evidence advanced here points towards the  existence of a  strong relationship between the Greeks and the  native population on the coast of the Iberian Peninsula by the  6th  century BC, which explains the adoption by the  natives of a series of significant cultural characteristics. We do not know whether the Greeks deliberately encouraged these processes of social organisation in order to facilitate commercial relations with the  settlements in the interior of the Peninsula, or whether they were simply spectators of the  process. From the second half of the 5th century onwards imports of Greek pottery reach their peak in the Iberian Peninsula, not only on the coast but also in the interior (Rouillard 1991, 117–23, Domínguez and Sánchez 2001, 1–170). This was the result of an increase in the demand for raw materials in the Greek coastal centres, and of the  additional development of the  native exchange network, which would eventually connect the  Mediterranean coast with those centres closest to the interior in the southern third of the Peninsula.

As for Emporion, the presence of natives in the  earliest days of its occupation is mentioned by authors such as Strabo, who also alludes to the fact that Greeks and natives were later governed by the same laws [3.4.8]. Some archaeological finds, both in the city and in the  cemeteries, confirm these contacts. Similarly, Livy, writing of a  later period, mentions that there were mutual interests that favoured commercial contacts between the Greeks of Emporion and the natives living in the surrounding areas [3.4.9]. Archaeological evidence confirms that many native settlements around Emporion had close relationships with the  Greek city from at least the sixth century. Those contacts are attested by the native adoption of Greek architectural elements, the use, sometimes on a large scale, of Greek pottery, and Greek influence on native manufactures. We  can also observe the introduction among the natives of Greek ideas and techniques, for instance the rise of cereal agriculture in the territories surrounding Emporion and the arrival in the native world near Emporion of prestige goods clearly used for ritual purposes, which were also given a  religious use by the  natives themselves.

As a consequence of the economic processes that took place between Greek merchants, most probably based on the coast, and native centres in the interior, it is possible to observe, together with a significant development of stone sculpture, the presence of Greek pottery in such native centres, sometimes in great quantity and mainly concentrated in the cemeteries. Indeed, in most of the  south‑eastern quadrant of the Iberian Peninsula (including Eastern Andalusia), Greek imports began in the  second half of the  5th century and in most sites appeared for the first time (Domínguez and Sánchez 2001, 171–458). Taking into

Much more than in other regions of the Mediterranean, where Greek presence was stronger, in the Iberian Peninsula the existence and economic prosperity of the Greek cities were possible thanks to the interest of the local élites in Greek activities; for those élites, the  Greeks were a way of gaining access to prestige goods that emphasised their power and supremacy among their peers.

36

The Contribution of Archeometric Results to Our Understanding of Archaic East-Greek Trade Pierre Dupont In one of his former brilliant papers, Jean-Paul Morel (1982) gave us the fruit of his thoughts about the value of pottery as an indicator of ancient trade. While observing to what extent the former represented “un instrument de mesure privilégié” of the latter, he warned us against the  multiple dangers of its processing: “le bon usage de la céramique – he wrote then – exige que nous éliminions les à-peu-près quant aux identifications, aux datations et  problème trop souvent négligé – aux quantifications”. Since then, great strides have been made forward year after year in these three fields.

The reattribution to the Miletus area of R. M. Cook’s ‘Middle Wild Goat II’ and Fikellura main series , as well as one shape of transport amphora, so far considered as Samian, has shed new light on our view of Archaic Greek trade indeed. On the basis of lab results obtained on samples from ‘colonial’ consumption sites as Histria and, at a lesser degree, Naukratis, it appeared that the pottery (mostly MWG II and Fikellura, complemented with some series of Ionian cups and simple banded oinochoai and fruitstands with ray patterns) and amphora exports of Milesian origin were far from forming the major share of the East Greek deliveries to the Black Sea settlements. Moreover, if most of the four or five main local geochemical patterns identified in Miletus herself have been actually distributed overseas, only one of them seems to have gathered most exported containers of Milesian type together with MWG  II and Fikellura painted pottery, some Ionian cups and scarce common ware. Conversely, imports from Samos, Chios and North-Ionia do not seem well attested among the Archaic finds in Miletus.

Concerning the identification of centres of manufacture, major advances have been obtained on Archaic East Greek wares and transport amphorae, thanks to the decisive contribution of chemical analyses, so much that our general perception of the great Ionian trade turned out to be radically reconsidered. The pioneering work initiated by the Laboratoire de Céramologie in Lyon (Dupont 1983; 1986), which led to this major reassessment, was based on a strategy of comprehensive approach which proved to be particularly efficient. It consisted in tackling in parallel the study of materials from both potential centres of manufacture in Eastern Greece, in order to constitute a reliable net of local references, and on the finds of peripheral sites of the Greek colonial world, where imports were all issued from the main exporting workshops of the motherland. Later on, the results obtained in Lyon have been largely corroborated by the matching ones of other labs, first of all those of Mommsen’s lab in Bonn (Akurgal et al. 2002), and by recent archaeological discoveries made throughout Eastern Greece itself during the last decades, especially in Miletus and Clazomenae.

Farther in the north, the situation in Ephesus still looks unclear. The batch of 28 Archaic samples from the  Artemision, analysed in Lyon in the late seventies, revealed much more heterogeneous than in the case of Miletus, with many imports from nearby Miletus and Samos, as well as from North Ionia and, seemingly too, from Lydia. Such a cosmopolite assemblage was probably connected with the fact that most samples came from the  Artemision. Only a few samples formed a separate group, distinct at once from Miletus, Samos and North Ionia, which might be of local (or Lydian?) manufacture, but no trace of it was found on the export markets, neither at Istros, nor at Naukratis. Only a very few marginal samples might actually belong to some underlying local group still under-represented numerically in our batch. Conversely, due to random or more diversified sampling, several supposedly local groups have been recently identified both by the  Bonn (Kerschner et al. 2002) and Berlin (Zabehlicky-Scheffenegger et al. 1996; Zabehlicky-Scheffenegger and Schneider 2000) labs, but without regional differentiation as concerns the latter. Besides, further local groups have been identified in Lyon for the Middle Ages (Sauer and Waksmann 2005). However, even if some imitations of transport amphorae of Milesian type have been identified (Kerschner and Mommsen 2005); no trace at all of Ephesian exports overseas has been found so far, at least for the Archaic period.

However, numerous problems have not yet been solved quite convincingly and, even concerning the well established archeometric results, the evolutional character of the answers given by the lab must be emphasized, the determinations of origin put forward often having a provisional value, sometimes subject to unexpected reversals as the net of local references strengthens qualitatively and quantitatively and as its meshing becomes denser. This notion of evolutional results may surprise within the field of exact sciences, but is easily explained by the fact that the chemical results do not give directly the place of manufacture but only indirectly, through systematic comparison and cross-checking with local references, sometimes to constitute in the absence of any remains of workshops (kilns, wasters, etc.), the clays being difficult to deal with, and the terracotta building materials such as roof tiles being not always locally made (e.g. the  case of Sinopean roof tiles).

As for Rhodos island, shorn of its main f leurons, it  appeared to have scarcely exported southwards, first of all towards Naukratis, some series of Vroulian cups and, seemingly too, a handful of Daphnae situlae. Moreover, during the Archaic period, the viticulture of the island was obviously not yet in a position to produce exportable surplus: 37

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no Archaic Rhodian transport amphorae have been identified neither on East Greek nor Black Sea sites. At  that time, in the field of pottery and amphora manufacture, Rhodos seemingly did not play any significant role. All  lab results are in agreement on this point.

pieces seem also attested on export markets in the Western Mediterranean, e.g. at Cerveteri in Etruria (Rizzo 1990, 13, figs. 3–4; 15, fig. 8; 16, fig. 10 ‘tipo con ingubbiatura incolore’) and at Mylai on Sicily (Brea and Cavalier 1959, 41–42, tabl. 1bis, pl. L: 1, 3).

In fact, on the overseas markets, both in the Black Sea area and in Naukratis, Late Wild Goat style and other North Ionian products hold a prominent position from the  beginning of the 6th century onwards. But from the very beginning of the Greek colonisation of the Euxine, bird-bowls and trade-amphorae of Clazomenian type are already attested as far as the remote Azov Sea shores. Above all, these North Ionian wares include a large range of mass produced painted vessels, which have been widespread, following in this way the example of Corinthian ones: simple dishes with key-pattern at rim and lotus and/or tongue pattern in bowl, plainer banded dishes of type Tocra 684, ring-askoi, rosette bowls, banded oinochoai. Only the North Ionian black-figured style did not succeed in challenging seriously the Attic exports, which overrun the market at the same period. Several different centres seem involved in the overseas distribution of these products: Clazomenae, as well as another still unidentified more prolific centre, judging by its wide distribution throughout the Euxine and down to Naukratis; this second major centre is most likely to be located towards Teos or even Kolophon judging by the evidence of preliminary chemical results. Two other nearby cities, Erythrai and Old Smyrna, do not seem to have exported their products overseas at that time, at least as concerns painted pottery. However, a local fabric of trade-amphorae of Zeest’s ‘Samian’ type has been recently alleged in Erythrai, on the basis of a stamp EPY found in the cargo of the Tektas Burnu shipwreck (Carlson 2003), an assumption not really supported by lab results (Dupont, forthcoming).

Concerning the products of Lesbos, locally-manufactured decorated vases are conspicuous by their almost complete absence, both on the island itself and on the export markets. In the same manner, unlike a still communis opinio, lab results have revealed no significant export of Lesbian grey wares so far, at least on Black Sea settlements. Conversely, they do support the attribution to the island of the main lineage of Lesbian grey transport amphorae, the widespread distribution of which goes back as far as the early Archaic period. Besides, thin-walled variants, displaying finer and lighter grey clay are also attested on Black Sea sites. Further pieces of information have been obtained. In  particular, it seems that superficially reoxydized variants of the same shapes of containers have been produced, if not by the same workshops, at least by others elsewhere on the island. Conversely, with their fine orange clay and slimmer profile, Zeest’s ‘tumbler-bottomed’ amphorae, alias Clinkenbeard’s ‘fractional red’, form a class of its own; their distinct chemical pattern points to a different clay source: possibly outside the island, somewhere in Mytilene’s opposite peraia, but not necessarily, because this class is attested in Mytilene itself, though (seemingly) scarcely. Other locations on the opposite Aeolis, whether in the Cymaean area or in Phocaea (Özyigit 1994), seem so far to exclude, though these amphorae seem well attested throughout the region. As for painted pottery, continental Aeolis has obviously not been a leading manufacturer during the Archaic period: a single centre only seems to have dispatched its products overseas. Contrary to all expectations, lab results obtained both in Lyon in the late seventies and more recently in Bonn did not point out to Phocaea (Dupont 1983, 22–3; Dupont, in press; Kerschner 2004). The chemical pattern of the distinctive group ‘Eolide archaïque’ individualized in Lyon, based on representative samples from Larisa, Cyme, Myrina, Gryneion and Phocaea, differs from those of the  two local groups at first identified in Phocaea: a  main one, almost exclusively made up of ‘Late Roman C’ specimens, manufactured from volcanic clay materials, and a smaller one of banded common ware, the chemical pattern of which fits the ones of kitchen wares (with low CaO and high K2O contents). For that reason, it  seems more sensible to locate the centre of manufacture elsewhere within the same area. As at Larisa, Cyme and Myrina the  distinctive chemical pattern of our group ‘Eolide Archaïque’ is predominant and very homogenous; whereas it is not the case at Phocaea. It can be inferred that these three cities are most probably situated in the immediate vicinity of the workshop. As, on the other hand, a certain amount of pieces belonging to this group ‘Eolide Archaïque’ has been exported towards the  Black Sea and Naukratis  – especially ‘provincial’ Wild Goat style dinoi belonging to Kardara’s ‘London Dinos group’, pinakes of type Kassel

As for the widespread white-slipped vases of the Chian style, lab results have revealed that most of those found on Mediterranean and Pontic markets do originate from the island: most Chian samples from Histria and Naukratis analysed in Lyon do fit the main local reference pattern of the island indeed. Of course, some imitation fabrics have been revealed here and there, e.g. in Erythrai, Pitane, Thasos, and even on colonial sites as Histria, though seemingly not where it was upmost expected, viz. at Naukratis. Most of all, Chian trade is embodied by an  unmistakable lineage of mass exported transport amphorae. Chemical analyses have established that this main lineage of ‘canonical’ containers was supplemented from the mid 6th century onwards by at least one variant of shape related to Zeest’s ‘Protothasian’ type (Dupont 2006). Conversely, they have revealed, in the  Archaic necropoleis of Abdera and Orgame, that at least one part of the earliest white-slipped models of Chian containers were not of Chian but of North Ionian manufacture (Dupont and Skarlatidou 2005; Dupont 2006). This result seems supported today by the  new discoveries made at Clazomenae (Sezgin 2004, 170–2, Group I, figs. 1–3,  5) and in the nearby Akpinar necropolis (current excavations B. Hürmüzlü, kind information of E.  Skarlatidou). Such 38

The Contribution of Archeometric Results to Our Understanding of Archaic East-Greek Trade

T 469, derived from the  North Ionian ‘Late Wild Goat’ stage, as well as some black-glazed oinochoai of Karydi’s ‘schwarzbunt’ type. There is a strong probability that the  producer was a harbour-city and if so, Cyme does appear to be the  main prospective candidate. However, one must beware of hasty conclusions: the possibility of one further pre-Roman Phocaean group, using clays different from those of ‘Late Roman C’ wares, cannot be entirely excluded. As well as it cannot be entirely excluded that the distinctive group ‘Eolide archaïque’ at first individualized by the Lyon lab, which is also well attested at Phocaea, could in fact be Phocaean too. In  this respect, the fact that, after withdrawing ‘Late Roman C’ specimens, the percentage of samples from Phocaea ascribable to the group ‘Eolide archaïque’ climbs up to 71  % must be pointed out.

express serious doubts about its local origin. Furthermore, the fact that we are faced with a highly specialized mass producer for export is noteworthy. Solving this keen problem of origin is urgently required; because the fine Ionian cups forming the core of this group ‘Samos 2’ are so widespread throughout the Mediterranean and the Black Sea. Both archaeological evidence and lab results at our disposal point at first sight to Southern Ionia as the most probable homeland of the Ionian cups: first, because they are quite well represented within our local reference group ‘Samos 1’; second, because the next fairly important producer on the opposite mainland was Miletus, identified both by chemical analyses and recent discoveries at Kalabaktepe, including pieces decorated in the ‘Middle Wild Goat Style’ (Schlotzhauer 2000). Furthermore, these Milesian variants of Ionian cups have also been exported to the Black Sea. Conversely, even if the distribution map does not point a priori to Aeolis as an alternative or additional production area (at least judging from the finds so far published), the closely related chemical pattern observed between ‘Samos 2’ and the abovementioned group ‘Eolide Archaïque’ as well as slight puzzling evidence (especially one fragment of black-glazed Villard B1 cup from Old Smyrna, with typical orthodox ‘Late Wild Goat’ decoration outside, see Dupont 2000, 452, fig. 317) invites to check, among others, the possibility of an Aeolian origin rather than a Samian one for the group ‘Samos 2’.

Conversely, lab results have revealed that the group of workshops referred to under the label ‘Eolide Archaïque’ does not seem to have exported any significant amounts of grey wares overseas, nor did any other East Greek one, at least in the case of Histria, where nearly all grey wares were locally made (at least judging by the range of samples selected by P. Alexandrescu and analysed in Lyon). Such a situation is closely connected with that observed in the  Western Mediterranean, where the so-called ‘Phocaean Grey ware’ has already been reassigned to colonial or even indigenous workshops (Arcelin 1984). However, even if, on major Greek settlements along the northern Black Sea shore, numerous colonial workshops have been brought to light, the case of Histria can hardly be generalized, because on other prominent Northern Pontic settlements such as Berezan and Olbia where the range of grey wares seems to be more diversified indeed, including, beside a majority of admittedly Aeolian shapes quite similar to those identified in Histria and also made of regional loess, some distinctive products, either of finer quality and still related to the  North Ionian/ Aeolian repertoire of shapes, or made of very micaceous clay and related to the South Ionian (Milesian?) pattern. In both cases, imports are to be expected, though in a  minority.Still quite puzzling appears the case of Samos island, for which the batch of some 250 samples analysed in Lyon (partly from the Heraion, partly from systematic surveys) has revealed, besides some imports, one dominant chemical pattern, obviously local (call it ‘Samos 1’ for convenience), divided into several sub-groups, including miscellaneous types of vessels, seemingly mostly common wares and Ionian cups of indifferent quality. On the export markets, this dominant Samian entity is mainly represented by some batches of Ionian cups and transport amphorae of Grace’s early type, with echinoid rim, low neck constricted at base, ovoid or pear-shaped body, and smooth ring-foot. Beside this prevailing pattern, spread out over a good part of the island, another secondary chemical pattern is to be found only among the Heraion finds. This second entity (call it ‘Samos 2’) is exclusively constituted of fine Ionian cups of Villard’s most widespread types. The fact that this group is attested only among the finds from the Heraion, a  Pan-Hellenic sanctuary, and apparently nowhere else in the island (judging from the absence of overlap of chemical pattern with any other sample collected all around), leads to

As for the prolific family of Ionian bowls, most of the  exported specimens of orthodox bird-bowls and rosettebowls are issued from workshops located in North Ionia (Clazomenae, Teos) and, at a much lesser degree, from Aeolis. The characteristic eye-bowls stand aside, as we  will see below. Several models of banded bowls have been widely distributed as well: some of them with incurved rim, of the  same shape as bird- and rosette-bowls, and North Ionian or Aeolian too; bigger ones, with splaying ring foot and straightened rim, attributable to Milesian workshops, and still others, with higher slanting foot and shallower bowl with bevelled out-turned rim, underlined with purple stripes, mistakenly interpreted by the Histria excavators as Lydian bowls (Dimitriu 1966; cf. Solovyov 2005, 48, no. 57). Let us come now to two still unattributed East Greek groups, well attested on the Black Sea settlements. The  first one includes these ‘Lydian’ bowls (call it provisionally ‘Group of Lydian bowls’), together with banded and ‘Waveline’ common ware as well as specimens of Ionian cups belonging to two types: on the one hand, Villard’s B1 shapes of Alexandrescu’s fine ‘Lambrino’ type; on the other, Villard’s A2 shapes of Hayes’ ‘Samian’ type. Seemingly, this group fits in with none of the reference groups for South Ionia, Middle Ionia, North Ionia, Aeolis and Rhodos, as in the case of the abovementioned group ‘Ionie du Sud 3’. In the same way, another important centre of manufacture, still unidentified and exclusively attested in the Black Sea 39

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distant away from one another, viz. Chios, North Ionia (Teos‑Kolophon? Erythrai B?, Northern Aegean (Thasos, Abdera?), Miletus, Ephesus, and yet Samos too. In the  same manner, systematic appraisals would be needed for the  other major units, viz. Chios, Clazomenae and Lesbos, for which analyses have still lifted but one corner of the  veil. For that purpose, collecting samples non only on urban settlements but also throughout their surrounding chôrai as well as their more or less remote peraiai would be needed too: in the  same way as Beaune alone is certainly not representative of the whole Burgundy wine region, Erythrai was certainly not representative of the whole Mimas ‘terroir’, the exported staples of which were not necessarily all forwarded through the polis. Incidentally, concerning transport containers, determinations of contents are still sorely lacking too.

area (Histria, Berezan) and the Troad, by series of thickwalled Ionian cups of Villard B1 shape and ‘Middle Wild Goat II/III’ fruit-stands reinforced with some specimens of South-Ionian ‘Middle Wild Goat II’ style oinochoai (and accordingly recorded ‘Ionie du Sud 3’ within Lyon data bank). Such a restricted distribution cannot but arouse suspicions and the possibility of an outsider centre of manufacture located rather at the Propontis shore than in Troja, is to be expected, for which Milesian foundations such as Abydos, Parion or Kyzikos would appear to be good candidates. The abovementioned eye-bowls also seem to fit in with this group ‘Ionie du Sud 3’, though as a  marginal sub-group; stylistic evidence also points to South Ionia, viz. Milesian ‘Middle Wild Goat’, but the presence of the  eye ornament on a predominantly North Ionian shape is unusual and raises doubts about a South-Ionian origin for these drinking vessels.

In view of these multiple reattribution of origin, sometimes disconcerting and often imprecise or provisional, one gets quite puzzled over the fragility of frequency data, which now constitute a prerequisite to any evaluating of goods traffic. Often based on misattributions of origin, they can, in a good many cases, provide us with nothing else but a distorted image of the real situation, even more that the ‘market shares’, hold by the different pottery producers abroad, were not necessarily directly proportional to the  total volume of goods exported by the cities concerned. Accordingly, one must more than ever keep in mind this sword of Damocles hanging above statistical data of frequency, before elaborating subtle theories on some or any supposed commercial trend, either Rhodian, Samian, or Phocaean.

Beside all these original mass produced vessels, largely widespread overseas, more or less successful local imitations have flourished here and there, with sometimes unorthodox adaptations to other regional styles of decoration, as e.g. in the case of the Fikellura pots produced in Miletus. Evoking local imitations leads to move on to the case of colonial fabrics, the most famous one being revealed by chemical analyses at Histria, with a quite surprising range of elaborated products, viz. vases decorated in the Fikellura style (though with but some slightly unorthodox features), to be attributed to some Milesian immigrant craftsman settled there and using the local loess as clay material (Dupont  1999). Similar workshops are attested on numerous Black Sea sites, as well as at Naukratis. Even if it is not always easy  to  distinguish between original imports and local imitations, and sometimes, between colonial imitations and secondary imitations supposedly produced by indigenous potters in the hinterland.

Concerning lab results themselves, let there be no misunderstanding about them. They are far from being infallible, but they are all the more reliable as the  specific net of local references they are based on is closer. As  it  is mostly not the case, for various reasons (incomplete geological and geographical cover, reference groups wrongly selected and/or numerically too weak), reassessments may occur as this reference net is being complemented with more closely fitting local groups, or when typological refinements or distribution patterns lead to new research trends. Accordingly, our perception of trade patterns remains strongly depending on the progress of provenance studies.

In the case of East Greek transport amphorae, it is obvious that lab results have marked the failure of M.  Gras’ theory of the emblematic value of the amphora shape for the  polis (Gras 1987), well exemplified by the  case of V.  Grace’s lineage of ‘Samian’ containers, now scattered between several areas of manufacture, more or less

40

Greeks in the East: A View from Cilicia Charles Gates Documenting and interpreting the activities of ancient Greeks in the East, that is, in Western Asia and Egypt, during the Iron Age are tasks of great significance for understanding the development of Archaic Greek culture. This development was not solely an internal affair, but resulted in part from stimuli from the established civilisations of the Near East and Egypt. Greek civilisation would have been unthinkable without the Orientalising Revolution, as Walter Burkert called it (1992), Greek art and architecture very different without Egyptian models of design, proportion, theme, and techniques. Merely noting the debt is not sufficient. We want to know the mechanisms of the cultural exchanges: when, where, how, and why did Greeks encounter Near Eastern and Egyptian peoples? Why did certain ways of seeing, making, thinking have such appeal?

town or village newly founded by Greeks. In this region, the reality was much more complicated. ‘Greek physical presence’ included newly founded towns, but it  also included districts within towns already established by local peoples. In addition, some ‘Greek presences’ must have been seasonal, or merely transient, short-term, even never repeated. We need to keep in mind too the reasons why Greeks ventured into these regions. Colonists searching for land, traders, and soldiers (whether mercenaries or prisoners of war) are frequently cited, as have been craftsmen, exiles, and pirates (Graham 1982b; West 1997, 606–24; Boardman 2001b; Luke 2003). Surely there must have been other occupations, other motivations, even the most personal, and the most private. For the archaeologist, the challenge lies in identifying in the material record the nature of these ‘Greek presences’ (Boardman 1999a, 7–159, 267–82).

This paper will focus on one aspect of this interaction, the  nature of Greek settlements in the Eastern Mediterranean: Cilicia, Cyprus, the Levant, and Egypt (Fig. 1). In particular, excavations carried out in Cilicia during the past two decades offer a new perspective on this question.

Thus far I have introduced the problem from the point of view of a classical archaeologist ‘wearing Greek goggles’, as the late Rodney Young, one of my teachers, loved to say. But it is important to pay attention to the eastern Mediterranean/southwest Asian context in which this chapter of early Greek civilisation took place (Dunbabin

Instead of ‘Greek settlements’, perhaps I should say ‘Greek presences’. The term ‘Greek settlement’ suggests a

Fig. 1. Map, Eastern Mediterranean 41

Ch. Gates

Fig. 2. Map, Northeast Mediterranean: Cilicia and Hatay (Turkey) 1957;1 Morris 1992a, 1992b; for Cilicia: Röllig 1992; Zoroğlu 1994b; Casabonne 2004). In the Archaic period, Greeks were entering lands belonging to long-established Near Eastern cultures, Phoenicians and Egyptians, notably, but lands that would be conquered in turn by Assyrians, Babylonians, and Persians. The tumultuous histories of these grand states and their many cultural components make up the dramatic background in which Greek presences need to be evaluated (Kuhrt 2002, 17–8). Indeed, as Amélie Kuhrt (2002, 17) and John Boardman (1999a, 268) have remarked, we might consider preClassical Greece as a culture lying on the outer edge of the larger circle of Ancient Near Eastern and Egyptian civilisations. In this way, preClassical Greece continues the same relationship seen in the Middle and Late Bronze Ages, of Minoan and Mycenaean civilisations with their eastern neighbours (C. Gates 1999a).

and iron (Kuhrt 2002, 21). In addition, it was ethnically mixed. Two of the  Ionians who worked on the multiethnic crew of carpenters at Nebuchadrezzar’s palace, early 6th century BC, had personal names that are not Greek: ‘Kunzumpiya’ and ‘Aziyak’ (Kuhrt 2002, 20–21). In  contrast, the  Babylonians employed a Greek from Lesbos, Antimenidas, as a  mercenary, as we learn in a poem his brother, Alkaios, wrote to celebrate his return home [Alkaios, fr. 350] (Kuhrt 2002, 22). In exploring further this problem of Greek presences in Near Eastern contexts, I would like to concentrate on archaeological evidence from the area most familiar to me: the northeast Mediterranean region, in Turkey (Fig. 2). Discussion about the Greek presence in this region has been dominated for over a half century by the site of Al Mina (Waldbaum 1997, 2–4; Luke 2003; C. Gates 2005, 52–6). Al Mina was excavated in 1936–37 by Leonard Woolley (1938a; 1938b). Its ancient name is not known for certain,2 and so its history does not figure in Greek – or other – texts. Woolley labelled the settlement as Greek, and quickly

From the Near Eastern viewpoint, the presence of Greeks was barely noted (Kuhrt 2002). In Assyrian texts of the  late 8th and 7th centuries BC, Ionians were associated with the Mediterranean, a very general identification (Kuhrt 2002, 18–20). Ionia may perhaps refer to Anatolia, but not specifically to a Greek area (Kuhrt 2002, 21). For the  Neo-Babylonians, Ionia was a source of bronze

2

Possibilities proposed have included Ahta (Fantalkin 2001a, 121, citing Zadok 1996), Kašpuna (Kuhrt 2002, 18, citing S. Parpola 1987), and Poseideion (Woolley 1938, 3, 28–30; 1959, 159–60). Poseideion is now usually identified with the site of Ras el-Bassit, in Syria (Courbin 1986, 187–8, 206–7; Waldbaum 1997, 4).

1

Although in many respects out of date, these posthumously published lectures can still serve as a useful starting point.

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Greeks in the East: A View from Cilicia

the  site became the epitome of the Greek encounter with the Near East in the pre-Classical period. Here Greeks met, absorbed, and transmitted home the cultural achievements and values of the venerable Near Eastern world. But this view has been contested; perhaps Levantines established the town, with or without a Greek contingent (Descoeudres 2002; Luke 2003; Niemeyer 2004, 38–44).

“colony” (apoikia), these sites are thus potentially important. Of these three sites, the best archaeological evidence for Archaic period settlement has come from Kelenderis, under excavation since 1987.4 The earliest pottery dates to the  late 8th – early 7th centuries BC, with East Greek wares becoming important (Zoroğlu et al. 20055). Attic pottery appears in the early 6th century, increasing in succeeding decades, a reflection of changing contacts with the Aegean world. What attracted Greeks? Although this region sees the  closest point between the Anatolia and Cyprus, the  coastal lands here are narrow. More attractive must have been the resources of the Taurus Mountains, such as timber for shipbuilding (cedar and pine) and iron ore (Zoroğlu 1994a, 3–4, 73). Walls deep down in the  lower city attest to the 6th century BC town, destroyed, or badly damaged, by fire. By this time Kelenderis had passed into Persian control (Zoroğlu 2005). But despite its protected harbour, the Persians’ preferred base in the region is thought to have been Meydancıkkale, a fort perched on a rocky spur some 15 km inland (Davesne and LarocheTraunecker 1998).

Anyone wishing to understand the meaning of Al Mina faces many problems. The excavation was conducted in the  grand manner of yesteryear: a large area dug quickly by a  large workforce, with few supervisors, by an archaeologist eager to reach the Bronze Age. Bronze Age levels were not to be found; Iron Age, the Persian period, and Medieval were the only periods represented. Woolley published the  stratigraphy, established its chronology, and presented the architecture and, in summary fashion, the finds – with the important exception of the pottery. The plans of Levels 10–7 and 6–5, the levels dating from approximately the mid 8th to the early 6th centuries BC, show an architecture that is regularly laid out, rectilinear, repetitive, basic, simple (Woolley 1938a, maps 4–5). There are no differentiations of size or quality of construction. Nothing is grand. There are no temples, no palaces, and no tombs. Nothing is quirky, unusual. In short, this architecture is uniform, and not diagnostic of any particular cultural group.3 Thus, for interpreting the early histor y of Al Mina, the potter y became crucial. Woolley left the  task of publishing the pottery to others (Lehmann 1996, 171–6). This work, which still continues, has generated considerable controversy. The  well scrutinised Greek pottery of the earliest levels at Al Mina has been taken as proof of a  Greek settlement in the 8th  century BC (e.g. Boardman 1999a, 38–46; 1999b; 2002a; Kearsley 1995; 1999. Contra: Graham 1986; Descoeudres 2002; Luke 2003; Niemeyer 2004). However, the local undecorated pottery surely was not scrupulously saved (Waldbaum 1997, 6; but see Boardman 1999b, 144; 2002a, 320–1) – thus skewing the ceramic picture in favour of diagnostic Greek wares. Interpreting the changing nature of the ceramic complex in subsequent years, in the 7th and early 6th centuries (and indeed beyond) is equally complicated. For a balanced evaluation, we need to take into account not only the Greek pottery, but also the  Phoenician, Cypriot, Cilician, and local North Syrian contributions to the  material record.

A different dimension is given by excavations at Kinet Höyük, in progress since 1992 (C. Gates 2005, 61–2). An  ancient harbour town located in the northeast corner of the Mediterranean, Kinet Höyük has a long history of occupation, attested by finds of Halaf period shreds, then by architectural levels from the Early Bronze Age into the 1st century BC, and again, after a long gap, in the  Medieval period, late 12th – early 14th centuries. Kinet Höyük has been equated with ancient Issos – not a Greek colony, according to ancient texts, but a town with an  ancestry etymologically traceable back through Phoenician Sissu to Hittite Zise or Izziya (M.-H. Gates 1999a, 304; Forlanini 2001, 553–4). Its long Iron Age sequence has yielded some Greek traces, notably pottery and graffiti, but these items must be evaluated against a  rich backdrop of local culture. With this mix of materials, Kinet Höyük exemplifies the  problem of identifying “Greek presences” in the eastern Mediterranean. It may be taken as an antidote to the confusion of Al Mina – and may well give us, when the finds, including the local undecorated wares, are eventually published, a guide to placing Al  Mina in its local context. Let us take a closer look at the finds that illustrate the varying components, Greek and other, in the material remains of this modest north Levantine harbour town. Architecture typically consists of mudbrick walls atop foundations of naturally-shaped stones from nearby river beds.6 In this rainy corner of the Mediterranean,

New excavations begun in Cilicia during the past twenty years have encouraged a re-examination of these problems (C. Gates 2005, 61–4). The sites represent contrasting situations. Kelenderis and Nagidos were colonies established by Samians, Soloi (later renamed Pompeiopolis) by Lindians and Argives. For examining the concept and reality of

For a bibliography on Kelenderis, see Zoroğlu et al. 2005. In the following file: Bilgilendirme/Kentin Tarihi/Arkaik Çağ [Information/History of the City/Archaic Period]. 6 The findings of Iron Age architecture have been presented in the  preliminary reports of the Kinet Höyük excavations 1997–1999 and 2001–2003: M.-H. Gates 1999b; 2000; 2001; 2003; 2004; 2005. For the late Iron Age (Achaemenid Persian period), see also C.  Gates 1999b. 4 5

3

The warehouses of the later Achaemenid Persian period levels (4-2) share similarities in design with storage buildings from the  Levant (Nunn 2000, 517–8). According to a different interpretation, these “warehouses” may have served mixed residential and commercial purposes (Luke 2003, 29–30).

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Ch. Gates

the  mudbrick has largely melted away. In the Iron Age levels, buildings and rooms are rarely diagnostic of function apart from houses and work areas. Kilns have been found, but no temples, no tombs. As one exception to this general trend, Period 8 (late 8th century BC) features a grander and idiosyncratic plan. From this building, a seal showing a man grasping an ostrich by the neck and some pottery attest to the Assyrian presence at the site (M.-H. Gates 2003, 285; 2004, 406–8).

Another connection with the Levantine coast to the south is the murex, the shellfish that yielded the precious purple dye, a Phoenician specialty (Jensen 1963; Stieglitz 1994). Although murex are common at Kinet from the 14th to the  6th centuries BC, in Period 7 (7th century BC), they feature in an unusual way. Vast amounts of crushed murex shells were brought up onto the mound and laid down as ground cover (M.-H. Gates 2003, 284). We don’t have remains of dye making – that must have taken place by the water   but the quantities of crushed shells are surely the residue of industrial-scale collection and treatment. In  sum, despite contacts with the Greek world as reflected in the pottery, the nature of the “Greek physical presence” at Kinet Höyük is not known. In any case, the overall context of the town seems Levantine, not Greek.

Greek materials begin early, with a few shreds with pendant semi-circle skyphoi among the Cypro-Cilician ceramic repertoire that characterizes the ninth–eighth centuries BC (Hodos 2000b; M.-H. Gates 2002, 58–9). In  the seventh–sixth centuries (Periods 7 and 6), ceramics change, with East Greek forms and motifs now constituting the standard table ware (M.-H. Gates 1999a, 308–9; 1999b, 261–4; C. Gates 2006). This pottery includes Wave line ware, East Greek banded bowls, Ionian bowls, bird bowls, East Greek plates, and Wild Goat. Other Greek pottery includes fragments of Attic SOS amphoras, and ProtoCorinthian aryballoi. Attic Black figure (and eventually red figure) are rare. Interestingly, alongside the very small number of clear imports from the Aegean, the locals made their own copies of those attractive styles. Such imitations make up an estimated 40% of the ceramic assemblage of the seventh–sixth centuries.7 The Aegean world, especially its eastern cities, had certainly spread the fashion for their ceramics far and wide.

Do pots = people? This basic question in archaeological interpretation everywhere is key not only for understanding who lived at Al Mina in its several Iron Age levels, but also for explaining why Greek pottery is found at certain Levantine sites and how it happened to get there (Waldbaum 1997; Boardman 2002b; Luke 2003). If the Greek “colony” or “emporion” was once the favoured scenario, today different types of Greek presences (such as seasonal traders and even mercenaries) seem likely (Boardman 2001b). Sites throughout the Levant and Egypt document the variety. Naukratis, founded, according to Herodotus, as a concession from the pharaoh Amasis, demonstrates that Greek cities existed in these foreign lands (Sullivan 1996; Leonard 1998; Boardman 1999a, 111–33; Möller 2000; Höckmann and Kreikenbom 2001; James 2003). A Greek enclave in a  non-Greek town has been proposed at Tell Sukas (Syria), with a small temple and altar of perhaps Greek type, Greek pottery and roof tiles, and a shred inscribed in Greek, “I  belong to Helios” (Riis 1969, 1970; Ploug 1973). At Tel Dor, a variety of Greek finds (including pottery, figurines, inscriptions, Gorgon-headed terracotta antefixes, perhaps the  regularised town layout) have suggested a Greek component in this cosmopolitan port city (Stern 1989; 2002; for a more cautious view, Waldbaum 2003;9 Stewart and Martin 200510). Greek mercenaries camped at such fortresses as Mesad Hashavyahu and Tell Kabri (Fantalkin 2001b; Niemeier 2001; 2002; Kempinski 2002), perhaps also at Al Mina (Kearsley 1999). Greek and Carian mercenaries serving in Egypt are well attested in texts and inscriptions (Austin 1970; Boardman 1999a, 111–7).

Who were the inhabitants of Kinet Höyük? It is difficult to say. Writing is rare. A few shreds with graffiti, Greek (upper right) and Phoenician/Aramaic have been found. The  choicest example so far is the phrase “To  Sarmakadannis”, a complete Luvian or Hurrian name written in Phoenician letters on a large jar fragment. The  date, from associated pottery, is the second half of the eighth century (M.-H. Gates 2004, 408 and 414, fig.  8). Who was Mr. Sarmakadannis? The owner of the jar, or a merchant? Did he live at Kinet Höyük, or somewhere else? We don’t know. The Phoenician, or mixed Levantine, context of Kinet Höyük, indeed of the eastern Mediterranean, can be seen in additional finds: a lyre player seal (later 8th century BC) (M.-H. Gates 2005, 166 and 173, fig. 13) and a  faience scarab, with an Egyptianising scene of two figures in a  horse-drawn chariot carved on its base (Period 8) (M.‑H.  Gates 2003, 285 and 296, fig. 10). Levantine trade relations are clear from finds of basket-handled amphoras.8 Most wonderful is a unique fibula (Period 8), in which a  Near Eastern nude goddess bends cheerfully backward to accentuate the curve of the pin (M.-H. Gates 2004, 407 and 414, fig. 7 right).

At the other end of the spectrum are Greek absences, Phoenician towns in which finds of Greek pottery reflect not Greek presence, but the ceramic preferences of the  non-Greek inhabitants. Tyre is surely one (Bikai 1978; Coldstream and Bikai 1988; Joukowsky 1992). According to Josette Elayi, the later (Achaemenid Persian) Level 3 at Al Mina, called “Greek” by Woolley, is another (Elayi 1987; 1992).

7

9

Personal communication, Marie-Henriette Gates (May, 2006). Since the study of the Iron Age ceramics from Kinet Höyük is still in progress, the exact percentage is not yet certain. 8 For a Persian period example, 5th – 4th centuries BC: M.-H.  Gates 2001, 209 and 222, fig. 8.1.

With comments on Greek pottery from Mikhmoret and Tell el-Hesi as well as from Dor. 10 Stewart and Martin note that ‘much of the later so-called East Greek ware may be of non-Greek, eastern Mediterranean manufacture’ (p. 81), a situation seen also at Kinet Höyük.

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Greeks in the East: A View from Cilicia

Indeed, who brought this Greek pottery to the Levant, and for whom? Greeks and/or non-Greeks (notably Phoenicians)? And what about pottery in Greek styles, not imported but imitated locally, in Cyprus and the Levant – who produced it, and why (Boardman 2004)? The issues are highly controversial. If Greeks, were many cities taking part, or only a few? Euboeans have been viewed as important players, because of the widespread finds of Euboean pottery not only in the area that interests us here (including at Al  Mina), but also in the central Mediterranean. Opponents of such an interpretation believe that too great a faith in the equation ‘pots = people’ misrepresents the  complexity of trade throughout the Mediterranean in the  first half of the first millennium BC (Sherratt and Sherratt 1993; Papadopoulos 1997).

(Reyes 1994). As  a place of interaction between Greeks and Near Easterners, Cyprus is of great importance. Could Cyprus have been the place where Greeks adapted the alphabet from the Phoenicians? The multi-cultural context seems ideal. Indeed, in a recent study, Roger Woodard has said ‘Yes, Cyprus is the place’ (Woodard 1997, 1–7, 133–262). For him, the influence of the writing conventions of the Cypriot syllabary on the new alphabet is clear. But Woodard does not explain well why Greek writers of the syllabary should invent a new script while retaining, and preferring, the old11. The questions about the  origins of the Greek alphabet are thus still open – where, by whom, why12? In conclusion, the resulting picture, filled with many different situations, does not provide an easily understood context for the cultural exchanges that led to the  Orientalizing Revolution and beyond. It ref lects, however, the rich complexities of Greek interactions with peoples of established states. The contrast with the history of Greek settlement in other areas, such as the Black Sea and the  western Mediterranean, is striking. If we can’t answer our question well, we can, like John Boardman in his classic study, The Greeks Overseas, appreciate the  “diversity in intention, practice, and product” that “close study of each site and each find reveal,” the rich diversity that was characteristic of the  Greek experience (Boardman 1999a, 282).

Lastly, and briefly, let us turn to Cyprus, and the  transmission of the alphabet from Phoenicians to Greeks. Phoenicians, arriving in Cyprus in the ninth century BC, and Hellenized locals divided the island into kingdoms – ten are listed in 673  BC, on an inscription of Assyrian king Esarhaddon (Reyes 1994, 24, 58, 160). To name here but three, on the  south and east coasts, Amathus and Salamis were local; in between lay Kition, a Phoenician town. All  were important stops on trade routes from the Aegean to the Phoenician mainland (Coldstream 1989). The island was captured by Assyrians in 709 BC, later dominated by Egyptians from ca.  560 BC until the Persians gained control in 545 BC

An objection voiced by many: e.g. Dunbabin 1957, 61. On the origins of the Greek alphabet, see also Jeffery and Johnston 1990, 1–42, 425–8; Powell 1990; and, for a review of Woodard’s book, Dickey 1998. 11

12

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The Collection of Works in Archaistic Style in the Hermitage Museum’s Department of Classical Antiquities Alexander Kruglov In the outline of my talk I set out a detailed list of varied monuments in Archaistic style. Yet one might immediately correct the title of both talk and paper, for Archaic works are to be found not only in the Department of Classical Antiquities – as today’s Department of the Classical World was once known – but in the Department of the Archaeology of Eastern Europe. Apart from this quibble with the title, the subject itself remains one of significance, for today there are more than fifty such Archaistic works, forming a genuine ‘collection’. It includes examples of sculpture in the round of marble and stone, marble and clay reliefs, examples of glyptics and metalwork, kore figures and bronze-casting.

breast, a fragmentary head from Chersonesos of the late 5th  century BC and a fragmentary monumental statue from Panticapaeum dating from the Roman period (Saverkina 1986, 134, no. 57; 128–30, no. 53). A precise understanding of details and stylistic execution help us correctly identify an image in terms of both iconography and chronology. Plaques found in a barrow at Kul-Oba showing dancing female figures (Artamonov 1970, fig. 234) had not been previously identified and their partial archaism had not been noted. The figures were interpreted as Maenads, Horae, Charites or Muses, yet the veils covering their heads are typical of none of these. We should note the zigzagging borders of the left figure’s drapery, one of  the most characterising features of archaistic treatment of robes. This combination of heads covered with veils and archaistic drapery elements point to an identification of the figures as nymphs. When shown in an exhibition of Greek gold in 1995 the plaques were redated and placed in the mid-4th century (Williams and Ogden 1994, 150, no. 90). I  see no basis for this, the way the figures are shown – with the upper part of the body and legs turned in three-quarter view, while the head remains in profile  – being evidence for a dating in the late 5th century, since by the mid-4th century moving figures were shown with crossed legs and body turned.

Works from the Roman period have been well studied and published while those of the Greek period are less well known. Particular attention is therefore concentrated on them, the material presented in chronological order. This is important for an understanding of how the Archaistic style took shape and what its archetypes were, since these formed the very foundation of the theory of Archaising art. We will thus analyse Greek models, bringing in Roman material where necessary. It is important to note that Russian art history does not avoid differentiating between the terms Archaistic and Archaising, nor does it use the term Lingering Archaic. As a rule, Archaistic and Archaising are used equally and indeed we should note the absence of a true international standard for their usage, each scholar who uses the terms in different senses seeming to use their own personal approach (Harrison 1965, 50). Following the examples of B.  S.  Ridgway, whose pragmatism I personally find impressive, I prefer to see the term Archaistic as referring to works in which Archaic features dominate and Archaising as referring to those which contain some formal features of the Archaic style (Ridgway 1977, 303). Moreover, it should be noted that during different periods of its existence, Antique art manifested differing degrees of archaism in its use of different iconographical types.

Another important iconographical motif in the Archaistic style of the 5th century that was to continue into the  next century was widely taken up by metalworkers. Many pieces of metal have been discovered in barrows in Southern Russia, among them images of a chthonic goddess as a  half-figure, the lower part of the body formed of vegetable tendrils or snakes, as on a gold horse’s temple pendant from Bolshaya Tsimbalka dating from the middle to third quarter of the  4th century BC (Artamonov 1970, fig. 186), a  silver dish from Chertomlyk of the late 4th to first quarter of the  3rd century BC (Artamonov 1970, fig. 178) and a  gold plaque from Bolshaya Bliznitsa of the  4th century BC (Artamonov 1970, fig. 308). The  motif’s iconography has ancient roots and was ext remely widespread in different parts of the  Greek world. Not so long ago a  Bulgarian colleague, Yulia Valeva, arranged the known Greek material to include Southern Russian and Thracian monuments. Describing the style she justly noted: “The figures seem to depict ancient images, similar to so many sacred statues worshipped all over the Greek land” (Valeva 1995, 349). There is indeed a  certain likeness between the caryatid beneath the handle on the dish from Chertomlyk by a Greek master and a  monumental sculpture by a  Thracian master from a tomb near the  village of Sveshtari. I am not inclined to see here any direct borrowings but when we realise that the figure’s raised hands press palm upwards into emptiness it becomes

It is this which explains the need for special terms, such as Lingering Archaic or Sub-Archaic (Willers 1975, 9–20) to define works of the early 5th century BC. They might be used to describe a white-ground lekythos with an image of Artemis (ca. 490 BC), where the numerous folds of the goddess’s Ionic chiton and her diagonal mantle are treated in an old-fashioned manner (The Hermitage Museum 2004, 58–9). In some 5th century types, however, there is only minor archaism, manifested in the treatment of specific details like hair or drapery. Such are the images of Cybele with archaising spiral locks of hair falling down onto her 46

The Collection of Works in Archaistic Style in the Hermitage Museum’s Department of Classical Antiquities

clear that the Chertomlyk image derives from sculpture originally intended for an architectural context.

a  hekataion have always been considered (and indeed the  labels today still state that they are) Roman copies, but we have only to look at the technical features, at the working of the marble, to be convinced of an earlier date.

Pointed radiating leaves forming the ‘skirt’ of the female figure from Chertomlyk accord with the depiction of robes in the earliest known sculptural image in the Archaistic style, a marble statue of Aphrodite of 420–400 BC in the Altes Museum, Berlin (Altes Museum – Pergamonmuseum 1998, 70–1, no. 33). There the goddess leans on an ancient idol shown in Archaistic style. He is dressed in the Classical belted peplos with an overfall, given an Archaic appearance through elongation and a twist in the ends. The resultant sharp ends recall the Ionic diagonal cloak.

Scholars have been divided on the question even i n t he  pa st. Wald h aue r pla ce d t he hek at aion i n the  mid‑4th  century BC (Waldhauer 1936, 24, no. 258, pl.  XVII); in his monograph on depictions of Hekate, T. Kraus put it in the  early Hellenistic period (Kraus 1960, 125–6, no. 12), while Willers dated it to the early Roman Empire (Willers 1990, 306–7). How should we date this piece today? When we recall that the object arrived from the collection of A.  D.  Bludov, Russian envoy in Athens, we find indirect support for an  Attic provenance.

It soon becomes clear that the figure on a temple pendant from Bolshaya Tsimbalka is also based on drapery motifs of the kind found in Greek statuary. Moreover, by depicting the goddess in Archaistic robes the artist endowed her with a status equal to images of gods from the Greek pantheon. We can extrapolate this example to draw a broader cultural conclusion: the Archaistic style not only helped the Scythians or Thracians to emphasise the legitimacy of their own images of local gods but also helped the Greeks perceive the latter as being related to their own tradition.

Harrison, who has written about archaistic works found on the Athenian agora, suggests that a whole group of monuments that Kraus placed in the early Hellenistic period in fact relate to the Late Hellenistic or Roman period. Based on her observations of Attic sculpture, she rightly noted the difficulty in dating individual pieces since techniques barely altered from the Late Classical to Roman periods (Harrison 1965, 86–97).

In the Hermitage there is a marble acroterium with gryphons and a winged male chthonic divinity (Möbius 1929, 72, fig. 64a), a familiar composition of a half-figure with tendrils. The acroterium arrived in the Hermitage from the Musin-Pushkin family collection, and we might tentatively suggest that it was found in Olbia.

When dating these objects, therefore, we must take into account what might at first seem to be but secondary details. Up to now no attention has been paid to the  depiction of the  head and the hair type on the Hermitage hekataion: the oval head seems even more elongated because of the  structure of the hairstyle, with the hair parted in the  middle and twisted around the head, the left side twisted and thrown diagonally over the right lock, creating a  peaked effect above the  forehead. Later masters do not seem to have been attentive to careful reproduction of this hairstyle, which dates to around the middle of the  4th  century BC (370–340s). An early date is also suggested by an understanding of the  depiction of the clothing. The  fine folds of the chiton are not only shown on the sleeve but are visible at the  neck and feet, emerging from below the edges of peplos. At  the neck are ‘Venus’ rings’. Also characteristic Archaistic features are the modelling of brows, pupil and both eyelids. All these details indicate a manner of execution of the  Late Classical period, and in dating the  object I would thus concur with Waldhauer.

Hair and beard are treated in Archaistic style and the  image is somewhat simplified in treatment, since the  relief was not intended for close viewing. Yet we can clearly see that it belongs to a certain type, that of the  Hermes Propylaios, which is linked with the work of  Alkamenes in the 5th  century BC. The persistence of the Alkamenes type is quite unique. We can only agree once more with the accepted opinion that the  drawn out existence of the  Archaistic style was prompted by religious conservatism. In the Hermitage we have excellent examples of Roman copies, a large herm of the  Ephes‑Hermitage type (Saverkina 1986, 93–4, no.  36) and works from the  Hellenistic period (the acroterium is dated to the  3rd  century BC). From the  Late Classical period comes a  Chersonesian head of Hermes, a version of the  Brussels‑Basle type (Saverkina 1986, 95, no. 37), dated to the 4th  century BC. Alkamenes’ Hermes was copied an endless number of times. “The  Hermes… standing on the  square near the Painted Portico… is covered in tar, since sculptors take casts of it every day,” wrote Lucian [Iupp. Trag.  33]. This apparently anecdotal story proves to be the   very truth, confirmed by the find in Chersonesos of a cast from that same marble head, made in Hellenistic times for the purpose of making terracotta copies (Belov 1971, 109).

The statuette of the seated Dionysos (Waldhauer 1928, 23, no. 9, fig. 7–8, pl. VII) can be dated to the 2nd  – 1st  centuries BC. Dionysos’ right hand up to the elbow  – it once clearly held a kantharos – was made separately and set into a rounded hollow, a characteristic Hellenistic technique in the making of marble figures. There are noticeable traces of red paint on the cloak surface and the sides of the throne with their ornamental relief, from which we can conclude that this statuette was not placed in a niche but in an open aedicula, a domestic sanctuary, possibly in the  peristyle garden of a private home.

Also in the Hermitage there are superbly preserved original Greek Archaistic statuary from the Late Classical and Hellenistic periods. A statuette of Dionysos and

Many representations of gods in metalwork and glyptics would seem to have been based on statuary types. We  know 47

A. Kruglov

of no authentic cult Archaistic statues from the Late Classical or Early Hellenistic periods but we can recognise their reflections in small-scale contemporary works, such as the statute of Artemis which appears on a gold ring from the Bolshaya Bliznitsa barrow (Williams and Ogden 1994, 193, no. 125). Of this there can be no doubt, since the figure is shown on a pedestal which, to judge by the  profile, would have been a low round base identical in form to the pedestal of two bronze urns from the Early Hellenistic period found at Vasyurina Gora. The archaistic style of the figure from Bolshaya Bliznitsa is determined by the composition itself, a half-profile arrangement of the body combined with a profile turn of head and both feet, which rest identically on the ground. L. Stefani noted the features of this style: “This statue, slightly repulsive in its harshness typical of a heriatic style…” (Stefani 1866, 77), and linked it with the statue of Artemis at Agrae near Athens described by Pausanias [I, 19, 6], although we have no reliable basis for such an  identification. An abundance of linear drapery folds reminds us of the  patterned nature of drapery on goddesses of the CretoMycenaean period – indeed, it is in this that the Archaistic phenomenon lies: to create an impression of age through additional ornamental details. But we have only to look more carefully at the best examples of Archaistic costume to recognise that sculptors were not playing with decorative elements on the image’s surface but modelling the robes according to their own understanding of their task.

Fig. 1. Caryatids. Bronze. Inv. Nos. Vas. 70; Vas. 71. From the barrow Vasyurina Gora. The State Hermitage

We shall look at different types of Archaistic attire on the basis of a bronze caryatid from Vasyurina Gora (Fig. 1). (In passing, we should note that publications by Herdejürgen and Zagdoon have given an incorrect provenance, ‘Kurgan’, for items that in fact derive from Vasyurina Gora on the  Taman Peninsula; Herdejürgen 1968, 87, no. 8; Zagdoon 1989, 176).

form part of this attire. A statue in Berlin from the 2nd century BC, for instance, wears only a chiton and himation (Altes Museum – Pergamonmuseum 1998, 96–7, no. 51). Fullerton, one of today’s leading scholars of Archaistic sculpture, noted that it was unlikely that such drapery reflected the kind of attire actually worn in everyday life (Fullerton 1986, 268). If we agree with such a suggestion then one must conclude it was specially developed for a  certain sculptural type, the very earliest version of which is represented by the statuettes from Vasyurina Gora (Fig. 1). The type of cloak with rounded festoons relates to fashions in Asia Minor, appearing there on marble sculptures of the  2nd century BC.

The caryatid’s fine chiton has numerous small folds gathered in horizontal bands on the short sleeve. Over this she wears a peplos fastened at the left shoulder, its folds forming a triangular neck. The long, broad cloak with its overfall forms a variety of omega and zigzag shaped folds. Cloaks were cut to a particular design, in order to create this play of festoons and hanging ends, with part of the  fabric twisted and arranged diagonally across the chest and down the back, from which festoons hang down to the waist and hips, each fold ending in the characteristic ‘swallow-tail’ feature. One edge of the cloak with its zigzag folds descends along the figure’s right side from beneath the  raised shoulder, with the broader cascade of side folds of the peplos emerging beneath. The other edge, also long and gathered in zigzag folds, hangs from beneath the festoon on the left side. It is slightly pushed towards the left arm and forms an additional smooth curve. The  central drapery in the form of a swallow tail in the lower part of the ‘skirt’ should probably relate to the peplos, from beneath which we see small folds of the chiton. A peplos did not always

At one time Rostovtseff dated the chariot with bronze adornments from which the caryatids come to the first half of the 3rd century BC (Rostovtseff 2004, 89). He also noted that the style of the caryatids themselves provides us with no independent criteria to determine their age. Yet a systematic arrangement of Archaistic material and the  development of a theory of the style provide a serious basis for a confident dating. A comparison of the attire of the caryatid from Vasyurina Gora with that on an  Archaistic figure of Athena on coins of Antigonus Gonatas (ca.  271  BC) allows us to conclude that the  archetype for such drapery relates to the first third of the 3rd century BC (thus confirming Rostovtseff’s dating). The  prominently bulging large 48

The Collection of Works in Archaistic Style in the Hermitage Museum’s Department of Classical Antiquities

round eyes recall – if this is not simply a coincidence  – the  iconography of the Ptolemies. The  hairstyle, a bun gathered below the back of the head without any emerging spiral locks, is found on Archaistic reliefs (the earliest, of the late 3rd century BC, is a relief showing the dance of the Seasons).

the  Istanbul sculpture has any relationship to the  statue of Hermaphroditus nobilis by the  sculptor Polyklos mentioned by Pliny the Elder [NH 34,  80]. One of the inscriptions from the Athenian agora is a sort of inventory of sculptures of gods and other mythological figures that stood in different parts of the  gymnasium, and it is thus concluded that the  Hermaphrodite was amongst statues considered suitable for a gymnasium (LIMC 1990, 269, 271, no.  4,  283). The  date of the inscription is the  second half of the 2nd  century BC. The Chersonesos statuette, found in 1903 in the central part of the town, should also be dated to that time.

The bronze adornments on the chariot in the form of youthful female figures would seem to reflect a monumental type (Muse-caryatids), represented in the Hermitage by a  marble statue of the Roman Imperial period from Venice (Waldhauer 1936, 26–8, no. 260). Another statue of Artemis appears on an engraved chalcedony gem set in a gold ring of the 4th century BC from Panticapaeum (Neverov 1976, 58, no. 39). In composition the figure does not differ from that of contemporary statues (resting on one leg, the other set back), and only in the treatment of the cloak’s long edge to the side do we see signs of the archaistic trend.

To judge by the fact that the right hand was pressed quite close to the body, it could not have been made separately and then joined to the rest of the figure, as might have been thought. A pin hole at the broken wrist indicates that the loss was restored in Antiquity. If my identification of the  figure as Hermaphrodite is correct, the  hand would have held a characteristic attribute, a folding mirror. Features of the Archaistic style in Late Hellenistic works are found in the hair, its long, slightly wavy locks ending in sharp triangles, recalling the locks of hair on the youth from Piraeus, regardless of the fact that today many Classical specialists – with whom I would agree – see the Piraean Apollo as an Archaistic work of the Athenian school of the 2nd century BC (Palagia 1997, 183). Based on its marble type, the Chersonesos Hermaphrodite is not of Attic production but relates to the archaising tendencies of Late Hellenistic sculpture.

In a statue of Apollo on a chalcedony intaglio of the  4th to 3rd centuries BC from Gorgippia (Neverov 1976, 62, no.  54) the archaism lies in the manner of depicting the  hair in locks, the arms identically bent at the elbow and the feet both shown in profile. Yet this is not a depiction of an Archaic statue, as was noted by the object’s first publishers. Rather the extremely elongated and feminine proportions are evidence of another era and of the artist’s own individual manner. He has given the image of Apollo the features of a Hermaphrodite – Apollo clearly has a  female breast and soft belly. The figure from Gorguppia precedes depictions of Apollo according to the repertoire of 2nd-century BC Neo-Attic art.

Characteristic Archaistic style features in male statuary  – a row of ring curls over the forehead and spirals of hair falling down to the side – were persistently found on glyptics of the 4th century BC, the Hellenistic and Roman periods, for instance, a depiction of Poseidon on cornelian from Panticapaeum (Neverov 1979, 108, no. 1, pl. 1: 1), another of Jupiter the Thunderer or the works of the master Hyllos (Neverov 1976, 68, no. 87; 74, no.  114, 115). Hyllos’ works are a superb illustration of the Archaising style, only selected details being stylised with archaic features, while all other aspects make clear that these pieces represent Roman Classicism.

I shall cite another example of iconographical re‑orientation in the Hermitage collection. A fragmentary marble statuette of a youth from Chersonesos was compared by Saverkina with the image of Dionysos with a kantharos found on the  Athenian agora (Saverkina 1982, 96–7, fig. 1). She noted that both figures have identically arranged cloaks and gave both the same date in the 2nd to 1st centuries BC. She also indicated a close relationship to the depiction of locks of hair on the bronze Apollo from Piraeus, and then dated to 530–520 BC. It seems to me that there is some basis to speak of some iconographical model that served as a prototype for the Chersonesos statuette.

Hellenistic reliefs are represented in the Hermitage by a fragment from Panticapaeum which shows a figure of Hermes Nymphagetes (Fig. 2). His iconography is determined by the presence of a cloak and the surviving part of a caduceus. The short chiton and chlamys with arrow-shaped and zigzag folds and the lack of spiral locks of hair have parallels in reliefs of the 3rd century BC, allowing us to place the Hermitage fragment in that period. Attic reliefs of the late 4th – 3rd century BC are represented by a Hermes, protector of herds, who leads a  dance of nymphs, divinities of fertility, around an altar in a grotto. Attic reliefs were used as models in many workshops on the islands. To judge by the large-crystalline marble and certain harshness in the modelling we should place the Hermitage relief amongst such Greek island works. Amongst the few known reliefs in Archaistic style

All earlier scholars have ignored the youth’s female breast, which leaves us with no doubt that this is an  image of Hermaphrodite. We should note the difference in the  composition of the cloak compared with the Dionysos agora: not above, but below the elbow. The whole placing of the figure, with its slight bend in the torso – clearly visible also from the curve of the spine – repeats in reverse (and on a considerably reduced scale) a statue of Hermaphrodite from Pergamon of the 2nd century BC (Archaeological Museum, Istanbul; Smith 1991, 156, fig.  187). There the  figure rests on a pylon, which explains the torso’s smooth curve. It  is difficult to say whether 49

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or candelabra; they might have formed part of the  decoration of a marble vase or the rim around a well. The head of a  nymph or Hora, personifying a season, appears on a small marble fragment with a rounded top, which would seem, by analogy with another piece in the  British Museum (Selection 2003, 23), to have been part of the marble surround to a  well (puteal). The fragment is dated to the 1st century BC (Kruglov 1991, 215–8). Some Archaistic images that have now become independent objects derive from larger items, such as ritual vessels. Hellenistic terracotta masks of Dionysos or Silenos, found in many centres of the Northern Black Sea area (Belov 1970, 74, pl. 12: 4; Pruglo 1970, 99, pl. 44: 1, 5; Silanteva 1974, 20–1, pl. 12) are repetitions and variations of the  applied elements that appear below the handles of large bronze vessels (Mertens 1985, 56–9, no. 38–40).

Fig. 2. Hermes. Marble. Inv. no. PAN. 165. From Panticapaeum. The State Hermitage

As has been seen, the Hermitage collection is rich in monuments in Archaistic style, encompassing a variety of forms, material and periods. Whereas these monuments have not previously been looked at as a whole, this survey allows us to arrive at a better understanding of the iconography and to give objects a more precise dating. Thus we can more clearly comprehend the different periods in the Archaistic style and how it was manifested in Ancient Greek and Roman art.

found in the Bosporus (there is one from Taman now in Moscow, another from Kerch now in Odessa), the earliest is the St-Petersburg fragmentary relief with Hermes. Archaistic reliefs may have had various functional uses: they might have been independent (brought into a  temple as an ex-voto offering), or have decorated the base of a  statue

50

Greek-Ionian Necropoleis in the Black Sea area: Cremation and Colonisation Vasilica Lungu Burial customs and beliefs about the dead in the  Greek period have long since developed into a highly specialised and complex study, particularly in mainland Greece and the  western Mediterranean. An examination of burial customs in Pontic Ionian colonies can be based on significant information from a good sample of graves dating from Archaic to Hellenistic times. In order to provide a  helpful perspective of funerary practices in the Milesian, or rather, Ionian colonial milieu, the starting point for this investigation consists of the excavated necropoleis on the  north, south and west shores of the Black Sea. Hundreds of tombs can be attributed to the Greek period at Berezan, Olbia, Istros and Orgame, or Apollonia Pontica, and they can reveal useful information about burial customs and the  Greek colonisation process.

erected by the Persians, and Hanfmann (1963, 55) said that it may preserve the Hittite tradition of cremating kings (Bögazköy texts, cited by Riis 1948, 41). Nilsson noted that cremation has been taken to indicate the performance of particular rituals, which in the case of Mycenaean tombs would mean a complete and simultaneous destruction of the body and funerary offerings on the pyre (Nilsson 1950, 350). Cremation was consequently explained by him as an  arbitrary choice inspired by the regular burning of offerings. Cremation of adults and inhumation of children in jars were the preferred burial rites at Ialysos in the Archaic period (Gates 1983, 19). This combination has been taken to indicate that, in the case of East Greece, cremation would mean a standard rite in common necropoleis, in contrast with earlier Anatolia where, according to ritual Hittite texts of the 14th century BC, the cremation was reserved for the king. The process of burning may be equally different from one region to another, according “to differences in pyre construction, stoking, and overall combustion time” (Musgrave 1991, 285).

It was established a long time ago that in Greek necropoleis cremation and inhumation were practiced side by side (Kurtz and Boardman 1971, 329). It is thus significant that Herodotus notes [5.8] concerning the common practice of both rites by rich peoples of Thrace, the neighbours of the Greeks, which contradicts the ‘aristocratic’ theory as a focal point of the funeral meaning of cremation. In  certain areas, therefore, cremation is exclusively used for adults, as necropoleis of Ionian Siris attest for South Italy (Berlingo 1986, 121). It was long dominant, for example, throughout the Ionic colonies of western Pontus Euxinus, too, where cremation was practiced regularly for at least six centuries.

Early cremations come from the first stages of Ionian colonisation in the north and west Pontos. During the  first excavations in 1900–1901 in the necropolis of Berezan, Skadovskii noted more then 100 cremations for 514 tombs (Lapin 1966, 120–1). The last systematical investigations, made between 1976 and 1990, added 213 tombs more, of which 4% were cremations during the  6th–5th centuries  BC (Domansky et al. 1989; Solovyov 1999, 80, note  52; Vinogradov and Domansky 1996, 295; Fabritsius 1951,  58), with 16 more tombs investigated by Gorbunova in 1967–68 (Gorbunova 1969, 20–5). According to the  most recent estimations, tombs in the Berezan necropolis number approximately 900 (Tsetskhladze 1998, 45), 14.7% of which were cremation graves, and it is the  most important group of cremations on the northern shore of the Black Sea. Occurrences elsewhere in the same region during the period of Greek colonisation are a few at Olbia, usually interpreted as evidence of foreign presence among the  Greeks of the  city (Kozub 1974; Skudnova, 1988, 36–172, Bessonova 1991, 92–9; Vinogradov and Kryzhtsky 1995, 122–6, mentioned 3000 tombs excavated at Olbia). Some other occurrences from the second half of the 6th century BC to the Hellenistic period have come from the  Nymphaeum necropolis (Grač 1999). Cremations formed there a  smaller group than the  inhumation burials and, because containing rich grave goods, they have been evaluated by social criteria. The  interpretation of the archaeologists is that they belonged to Nymphaeum’s wealthiest people (Grač 1999, 323). In the  necropolis at Apollonia Pontica, cremation appears relatively late, in the middle of the 4th century BC, a “comparatively rare phenomenon” among the more than 1500 graves discovered (Panajotova 1998, 102; 2003, 123–40).

The reason for cremation practice in Greek necropoleis has not yet a clear answer. It might be possible to find a  common thread running through the Greek and non‑Greek necropoleis; it would be unrealistic to expect a  disjunction in rites practiced in different communities connected by a  common history. Herodotos [3.99–100] tells us clearly that many Greek and non-Greek peoples preserved the  ancestors’ rules (nomoi), rejecting those of other peoples. Religious conservatism appears the main characteristic. It is very likely that the same cremation rites were common in many ancient communities and these must be individually studied because of their particular meanings. At Sardis, there is some evidence for it at the tomb of Alyattes, father of Croesus, but inhumation seems to be the standard practice (Hanfmann 1963, 55). The problem of interpreting Croesus himself on the pyre as it is revealed by Greek literature [Bacchylides, Epinicia 3.23–62; Hdt. 1.86–87; Nicolas of Damascus FGrHist 90.F68] or Greek painted vases (Louvre G197, Myson’s Amphora) need not be indicative of funerary practices in Lydia. As for the  pyre of Croesus, “it is uncertain whether the purpose of the fire was the incineration of the corpse of the Lydian king or was related to some funerary ritual conducted by living at the tomb” (McLauchlin 2003, 156–8). The pyre was 51

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This complex panorama of funeral practices in the north and west colonial milieu could be interpreted in the light of the typical aspect of Greek-Ionian colonisation, that of mixed settlements. In this context, the numerous groups of cremation graves reported at Istros and Orgame play an important role in this discussion. More completely investigated than elsewhere on the Romanian coast of the  Black Sea, the necropoleis of Istros and Orgame can serve as an important source of evidence for identification of the burial customs of colonial cities in the Greek periods, from Archaic to Hellenistic times. The records both published and unpublished of excavations conducted in the  second half of the 20th century have much to emphasise about the burial practices and provide data of great importance for the evaluation of contrasting developments in neighbouring Greek colonies.

in the same necropolis during the Hellenistic period and that statistical studies of the cremations are meaningful. A substantial number of burials have been recorded in the Orgame necropolis where some sufficiently large areas have been investigated; the results have allowed their main characteristics to be defined (Lungu 1995, 231–63; 1996, 745–52; 1999, 71–80; 2000a, 101–18 ; 2000b, 67–87; 2000–2001, 171–88; 2001, 165–74 ; 2002, 3–17; 2003). Systematic investigations began there two years after its chance discovery in 1988, with yearly exploration until 2002. The  excavation areas spread in many sectors in the  necropolis including tumuli with cremation tombs and only few inhumations (Lungu 2000a, 102, 4% inhumations for 96% cremations). The burials were assembled in distinct clusters of various sizes, identified as family plots. They  offer us a firmer basis for new research and hypotheses.

The research on the Istros necropolis comes in part from the excavations led by Petre Alexandrescu (Alexandrescu 1966, 133–294; 1994, 15–32; 1999, 117–37). Excavations outside the ancient city have, however, generally been limited to a few burials identified in cemeteries located in the chora of Istros, some 18 km in the hinterland, in the  vicinity of the modern villages of Corbu de Jos (Bucovală and Irimia 1971, 41–56 ; Teleagă 1999, 33–44; Avram 2001, 599; 2003, 291; Buzoianu 2001, 131–2), Nuntasi (Rădulescu 1961, 377–83 ; Bucovală and Irimia 1971, 52) and Histria Bent, close to the present village of Istria (Zirra 1970, 213–20; 1985, 56; Avram 2001, 600; 2003, 291; Buzoianu 2001, 133; Teleagă and Zirra 2003). An isolated tumulus was excavated in 1952 at 600 m from Tariverde (Condurachi et al. 1952, 272–4; Buzoianu 2001, 135; Ruscu 2002, 46, note 52). These discoveries give a  chronology ranging from the  6th century BC down to the beginning of the 5th century BC, which correlates with the historical record of the colony’s establishment. What is particularly surprising about the funeral discoveries in the  chora is the  large number of inhumations in contrast with the  cremations from the  main necropolis of Istros (4,5 : 1 for cremation). The tombs there are of the same types as those of the same period found at Olbia, Apollonia Pontica or Berezan, but differ from the group of ‘aristocratic’ burials from the tumular necropolis of Istros. In terms of quality, the grave goods from cemeteries in the chora of Istros are comparable to those at the other Greek necropoleis, but are less numerous in each tomb.

The tumulus appears as a more permanent funerary monument, and its position and shape underline the  importance of funerary practices in preserving the  image of social status in Orgame. The use of the tumulus type burial is a  “world-wide phenomenon” (Summers 1998, 172), and “the  distinct cultures of different regions may have adopted it at separate times by separate mechanisms for separate reasons” (Roosevelt 2003, 123). They covered different kinds of graves and they are common for East Greece, Lydia, Anatolia, and Thracian and Scythian areas. Only a few tumuli are known from the Lydian period and they were probably reserved for royalty, and perhaps related elites (Roosevelt 2003). The diverse tumulus tradition in Phrygia consisted of inhumation burials in pits, sarcophagi and architectural tomb complexes, and only very few with cremation adopted down to ca. 625/620  BC under the  influences of East Greece (Kohler 1980,  66). Contemporary cremation burials under tumuli were known in Lycia (Dörtlük 1980). The Phoenicians of the  first millennium practiced both cremation and inhumation (Moorey 1980, 7). Secondary cremations, in which the ashes were buried elsewhere in a container, were the principal funeral practice in the S Necropolis of Samothrace, from the beginning of its use as a cemetery around the middle of the 6th century BC to the middle of the 4th century BC, when interment replaced it (Dusenbery 1998, 11). As  for the Greeks on the mainland, tumuli were built in the  necropoleis, but only a very few over cremations (Athens: Schlörb-Vierneisel 1966, 19).

The description of the graves at Istros and in its chora, the  nature and the development of the burial customs have been presented in detail in monographic volumes (Alexandrescu 1966, 133–294; Teleaga and Zirra 2003). The  typology of tombs and the rites, the  assemblages of grave goods, and the spatial distribution of tombs were the  main questions focusing the debate. Unfortunately, at Tomis, the other important Milesian colony on the  west Pontic shore [Strabo, 7.6.1; Ovidius, Trist. 3.9], the  excavations on the  necropolis as well as in the polis were disturbed by the modern town (Bucovala 1967, Lungu 2003). There are, however, good grounds for believing that cremations and inhumations (48  cremations and 21 inhumations) were mixed

At Orgame, the cremations are normally placed in tombs surrounded by stone circles, covered by tumuli and gathered into family plots, which were systematically distributed along the ancient roads leading to the city. The stone circles were used to aid the rising of the mound, to mark the tomb borders and to accomplish ceremonial practices. Their spread in Orgame indicates a custom perpetuated from Archaic to Hellenistic times. Other examples emerge at different times from Olbia (Skudnova 1988, 10), Apollonia Pontica (Panajotova 2003, 129), Berezan (Solovyov, 1999) and Istros (Alexandrescu 1966), but they are not sufficient in number to demonstrate if they represent a norm, even 52

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if only for a small part of the community, or an arbitrary individual option.

What is particular for the necropolis at Orgame is the  clear distribution of the familial plots under the tumuli close to the dwelling area. Assemblages of individual burials in familial plots, from 4 or 5 to 10 tombs of different sizes, have been identified so far, suggesting that this necropolis might indeed be related with an  urban structure, organised within some social hierarchy. A  pattern could be identified of assemblages of big tombs surrounded by smaller ones.

The practice of erecting a stone circle around the central grave is not specific only to the Pontic necropoleis; it is well known from many other tumuli excavated in Illyrian, Macedonian, and indeed wider Balkan areas (Bejko 2002, 40; Andrea 1985; Bondinaku 1982; Andronikos 1966). Moreover, the tombs ringed with stones point out by their frequency an essential particularity at Orgame, and also at Berezan, Istros, and other necropoleis of the large family of Milesian colonies. One illustrative example is in the necropolis of Olbia with inhumation as the usual rite, but with as well a few cremations in tombs ringed with stones.

The burial plots were situated along the ancient roads. The  fact is particularly obvious on air photos as well as during archaeological excavations. One of the most important roads was investigated some years ago, and the  earliest burials that flanked it date back at least from the  beginning of the 4th century BC. It is about 6–7  m wide, and consisted of a layer of stones sometimes containing Greek amphora fragments. Some other major axes of the  roads found in the necropolis set the plan from east to west, from the city to its chora. They also served for orientating the tombs, and sometimes were connected to close tumulus by smaller side roads, as excavations have made clear.

From a brief analysis of cremation in Ionian colonies in the Black Sea, one may easily observe that during the Greek period the necropoleis of west Pontic colonies at Orgame, Istros, Tomis, and Berezan had the highest percentages of cremation tombs. At Orgame, the dominant practice of cremation covering a large span of time, from the 7th to 3rd centuries BC, has been viewed as significant for the evolution of the settlement. There are two types of cremation tombs: 1) with the grave at the same place as the  pyre; 2)  with the grave in a  place different from the  pyre, with the cremated remains transferred directly into the grave or into urns. The  first type is connected with the biggest tumuli, and the second one with the smaller ones. In the  case of the tombs with primary cremation, since the  burial pyre generally corresponds to the size of an adult human, surely they were initially made for the  cremation of a  corpse in fully extended position. The  red colour of the  earth, the  bones so fragmentary and white, the pottery and the  other objects offered as grave gifts suggest an  intense combustion. Sometimes the vases were not burned, but often they were, either completely or partly. Some of them may have been placed on the burning pyre together with the body, some others afterwards.

Cremation was generally practiced in the Greek colonies at Orgame, Istros and Tomis during the Greek period, as well as in the necropoleis of indigenous peoples in Dobroudja. Some of them, somewhat distant from these colonial centres, had different kinds of tombs. This was the case in the indigenous necropolis at Enisala (Simion 2003, 259–320; 321–8) in close connection with the chora of Orgame. There were common instances of secondary cremations and urns in ordinary necropoleis in this period, but nothing like the family plots. The tombs with cremation and stone enclosures under tumuli were obviously rare and not typical of autochthonous burials. They could be the sign of influence from outside, perhaps of Greeks from Orgame. That could be an argument to include the settlement of Enisala within the chora of Orgame. A somewhat different situation is revealed by the chora of Istros, where inhumation in a rectangular pit is the main rite.

The familial plots of the Archaic period contain outside such tombs a circular stone construction used as an altar during the commemoration ceremonies. Some other tombs contained small pits outside the stone rings, in all cases on the northwest side (Lungu 1995, 255, fig. 2, TIV). These pits occurred in three cremation graves of the 4th century BC only, and all of them are to be found in the  biggest graves of the familial plots. The purpose of these pits was certainly for libations and special offerings. Some pottery, ashes and small fragments of burnt bones were found in some of them, and they were deposited there when the  cremation was started. Small fragments of burnt bones were recognized also outside of the tomb on the ring stones of many tombs. It is tempting to interpret these as the remains of funerary ceremonies performed periodically around the grave. The preserved bone pieces were too small to assure any accuracy of the identifications. We can only suggest that they could have belonged to small animals and birds offered to the dead.

All around the Black Sea the burial practices of the  local populations were different, too. Before and after the arrival of the Greeks on the Northern coast, the inhumation under huge mounds (kurgans) had been usually practiced by the  Scythians. Skoryi reports about 1500 Scythian tumuli of the 7th century BC located in the forest-steppe regions of the  Black Sea (Skoryi 1996, 40), where this practice continued to be preferred down to the Hellenistic period (Chernenko 1994, 45–53, reports 3000 Scythian tumuli of the 4th–3rd centuries BC). Different occurrences in a  Scythian context in Dobroudja come from the necropolis of Celic Dere, not so far from the west Greek colonies, revealed by archaeological records of mixed burial rites of mixed population in the fortified settlement 70 km north of Orgame (Simion 2000, 69–82; 2003, 237–46). Throughout Thrace cremation and inhumation were practiced regularly, with both rites being practiced side by side in some necropoleis [Hdt. 5.8] (Gergova 1989, 233). The Getae, 53

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a  branch of Thracians [Hdt. 4.93], preferred cremation and regularly used burial urns placed in pits (Gergova 1989, 237). In the necropolis of Enisala (Simion 2003, 259–320, 321–8), there is also good evidence suggesting that the  custom of cremation in tombs with stone rings distributed in familial plots may have been brought there by colonists from Orgame. Considering the usage of this funeral practice unusual in Getic burial customs, other cultural contributions, social and religious, originating during the 4th century BC may also have been imported: it  suggests a mixed population in Enisala as a possible result of its integration within the  chora of Orgame.

The prominent location, the large dimensions and the  construction of this tumulus differed obviously from other tombs situated to the immediate east of the necropolis, as well as from other tombs in Greek necropoleis of the  Black Sea. It is associated with unusual quantities of grave goods, which set it in the group of the hero tombs. The  wooden construction of the pyre and the ritual of vase deposition  (following the custom) has been attested by Homer [Iliad. 23] when he described Patroclus’s funeral. Finds included fine pottery, namely: one Ionian cup Villard-Vallet A2, probably of Samian origin, and one fragmentary filleted cup Villard-Vallet A1, several transport amphorae of both Clazomenian and Samian types, oinochoai, as well as one handmade vase. In  terms of the  chronology of this material, the limits given by the  pottery point to a  short period, confined to the middle and third quarter of the 7th century BC.

The attested instances of cremation in Orgame and Istros indicate a strong contrast with the overwhelming preference for inhumation elsewhere in the Pontic colonies. Other sites in the north, especially Olbia and Berezan, and in the  south, as is well testified at Apollonia, exhibited a  growing preference for pit inhumation burial throughout the Greek period, from Archaic to Hellenistic times. Orgame and Istros are exceptional for their retention of cremation burials in tumuli, to the exclusion of any rectangular pit burials. This specific situation of varying funeral customs in two neighbouring settlements is unique in the Ionian milieu of the Black Sea. It is, however, particularly interesting that, while the Orgame and Istros necropoleis display a distinctive material cultural identity within the Pontic colonised area, their funerary practices owe virtually nothing to the burial customs of their leading mother-city, Miletos (Wiegand 1906, 38; Gorman 2001, 206–8).

Cut into the rock was a circular trench surrounding the  tumulus. The complete excavation of the trench area brought to light a concentration of ceramic material, sometimes with cremated remains but without any evidence of another burial in situ. These deposits, however, contain remains of cremations and vessels in connection with ritual practice of periodical commemoration covering a  long chronological span. There is much pottery of the  7th–3rd centuries BC in date, including Archaic, Classical and Hellenistic Greek shapes, as well as some distinctively handmade vases, contemporaneous with the colonial material. These vessels were often similar to those of the  grave goods found in common tombs of the necropolis, but they include well dated characteristic pieces.

Systematic investigation of the archaic necropolis at Orgame has revealed the presence of a tumulus-heroon. The  tumulus which covered the hero-tomb stood atop the  ancient level of limestone slabs, about 300 m to the  west of the urban settlement. It lies on top of a hill in the  north side of the tumular necropolis. It was the principal excavated monument between 1995–2002 in the funeral area and some general considerations and pottery associated with the  HeroTomb have been regularly published (Lungu 2000a; 2000b; 2000–2001; 2002).

The earliest vessels inside the trench (after the  mid‑7th cent u r y BC), however, are contemporaneous with the  contents of the pyre and suggest the start of Hero‑cult im mediately af ter the t umulus const r uction. It is a  practice revealed by literary sources in 6th century BC [Hdt.  6.38; Thucydides 5.11]. The cultic deposits continue until the  middle of the  3rd century BC. The  vessels consist of drinking vases, such as amphorae and jugs, some crater fragments, and drinking cups suitable for the  commemoration of a hero. The majority were imported vases, with a few handmade wares. Amphorae formed the main share of the contents of the trench; they were used both for practical purposes and as status symbols (Velasco Lopez 1992, 209–20). The  presence of many amphora stamps will affect the date of all classes of pottery associated in the trench contents. Clearly, the  greatest effect of their chronology would be on the calendar of ritual practices at the hero-tomb. It may, in fact, have been later in absolute terms that the last phase of the  hero-cult proposed there, viz. second quarter of the  3rd century BC or so. These dates confirm the historical record of the  hero-cult, supported by the presence of many graffiti. They  were all incised after the  pots were fired and their content made sense according the religious rules of the  Greek city. The  language of the  graffiti seems generally the Ionian dialect, but most of them show variations in the  text and style of the inscription.

The Heroon displays most impressive proportions when compared with all other excavated tombs of the ordinary necropolis. It has a circular structure covering a combined area of approximately 42–43 m in diameter by 1,75–1,80  m height, without any ornamentation preserved. It appears about three times larger than the largest of the tombs and 20 times larger than the smallest of the tombs excavated inside the necropolis. Moreover, this is one of the biggest archaic monumental tombs anywhere in the Greek colonial area of the Black Sea. The tomb contained a central pyre formed around a  cremation pit cut in the rock and protected by a very impressive stone enclosure. The enclosure is preserved 1,25  m in height and 7 meters in width at the base. Finally it was protected by a tumulus and surrounded by a trench cut into the rock and used widely for centuries for the  ritual offerings to the dead. 54

Greek-Ionian Necropoleis in the Black Sea area: Cremation and Colonisation

The trench offerings could identify the common Greek practice of , burned offerings [Pindar, frag. 129, 9]. These offerings were no doubt simply set on the ground or on special stone assemblages. Their remains identified as ash or cremated bones show that the dead received a  regular supply of roasted flesh in ritual circumstances. Once ritually consecrated, the hero was inextricably integrated within the  ideological framework of a Greek polis through the  rituals related to fire. Apollonius from Rhodes informs us that “for those who have arrived in a  foreign land the  custom was to sacrifice to the local gods and heroes” (Nilsson 1950, 2, with note 2; Malkin 1987,  193). Ancient Greek literature tells us much more about the  practice of burning animal offerings during the  hero‑cult [Hdt.  6.38; Pausanias 2. 20]. Their presence inside the  trench surrounding the tomb could be assimilated to the symbolic role played by a temenos (sacred precinct), as it shows a  distinct preference for separating sacred and profane areas, a practice frequently reported for tombs [Hdt. 9.116]. This division of spaces corresponds to the  idea of separation of sacred and profane areas similar to those existing on the  acropolis in Greek poleis [Plato, Laws 745  b]. The heroon was reserved as a  focalising centre for the  cult identified with the founder (oikistes) of Orgame. The fire to burn the offerings on the  altars, the wine or the  water to make the libations at the tomb could be seen as the  elements by which one could recognise the religious unit. Tomb TA95 at Orgame is the first place where the  worship of the hero cult connected to an oikistes was established in the Pontic area (Lungu 2000, 73–5).

factors – with a continuation of the practice during the  post-Archaic Greek period. Burkert has remarked that “to recognise the claims of the dead person is to affirm the identity of the group, to accept its rules and hence assure its continuance” (Burkert 1985, 191). There is, then, good reason to recognise a clear existence of active praxis, intended to prove an identity self-consciously distinct from other neighbouring sites. In Classical Athens, the presence of familial plots is connected with the members of shallow patrilineages [Demosthenes 43.79, 55.13–14, 57.28] “with the responsibility for burial devolving upon the deceased’s bilateral kindred as far as the second cousin and they form the group called anchisteia” (Morris 1987, 90). This custom is used particularly in societies with complex structures of kinship (Jacoby 1944, 67–75; Humphreys 1980, 96–126; Morris 1987, 90) and Orgame has the most clearly nucleated patterns of burials in the entire Black Sea region. This unique feature may help account for the  social structure in Orgame. Moreover, while some social groups were distinct, we must acknowledge the presence of a  hierarchic community. Some tombs attest the practice of hero cult, which is obviously only for the founder of the family (Lungu 1995), who becomes more or less assimilated to the founder of the city. It seems to be characteristic of the funerary cult set up in Orgame, as seen in funerary customs of the 4th century and later. The complexity of the Histrian attitude towards the dead is explained by the presence of an oligarchic régime, as part of a general pattern of attitudes [Aristotle Pol. 1305b, 1–12] (Alexandrescu 1994, 31). The hierarchic pattern detected in the Orgame necropolis could be considered here in the  same way, and then the rise of hero cults testified for the  4th  century BC (Lungu 1995; 2003) might be an  expression of “competitions among groups” (Antonaccio 1998, 61) within the community of Orgame. A social and political function of the funerary customs becomes there apparent, for the reason that they are concerned with the aristocratic genos tradition across generations and in particular with its stability, solidarity and continuity.

The relationship of the Heroon with the common necropolis is especially clear. Because it is quite separate spatially, it could be indeed an example of an isolated, individual burial which became a shrine. Its significance is both civic and territorial: the addition of well-organised familial groups with tombs closed in date and location on the  east side of the tumulus-heroon TA95 would mean a  clear intention of organising the archaic necropolis. The  evident separation of the Heroon from the other tombs offers important evidence regarding its status in Archaic times. What has emerged is the construction of self-identity of the group; the hero cult is apparently connected with this. Significantly, the rarity of the hero cult before the Archaic period has been demonstrated (Antonaccio 1995, 197).

The study of the spatial distribution of tombs at Orgame shows more about the use of the necropolis according to the  funeral rules established at the beginning of the  settlement and perpetuated down to the Hellenistic age, suggesting a  certain organisational structure. Throughout this period, there was very little variability in ritual, and no other contemporary Pontic colony displays such stability within its necropolis. The most likely interpretation is that this settlement preserved during many centuries its original structure based on the familial unit. It seems that the Greek colonists settled there permanently rather than temporarily. This settlement must have been a sort of apoikia, to which the colonists came to acquire a new home. Some scholars explain this term as a “polis exported abroad” (Wilson 1997, 205; Malkin 1994, 1–2).

Considering the chronology and the Ionian origin of most of the finds which appear for the first time both in this tomb and in the civil settlement, one may postulate that the  Heroon coincides with the earliest stage of the  colony and establishes the earliest use of the cemetery with cremation as general rule. In the light of these discoveries, it would appear certain that Orgame started to organise the territory in the first stage of its existence using as the main criterion the distribution of tombs in familial plots. Grouping closely located graves into familial plots is generally preferred at Orgame (Lungu 2000a, 103–6) and Istros (Adameşteanu 1967, 374 ff.; Alexandrescu 1999, 62, note 21) – a tendency determined by social and religious

Apoikia may describe a true colony, “a settlement with a certain organisational structure, including a political dimension” (Petropoulos 2005, 84). Its foundation could 55

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be supported by the “consultation of the Delphic Oracle, the naming of an oikistes, transmission of sacred fire and continuing relation with its mother city” (Wilson 1997, 205–6). Possible arguments concerning the status of apoikia of Orgame are based on very important evidence which may be connected to it, particularly that concerning the  organisational structure, the presence of an oikistes tomb and the continuous fire on the shrine of the Heroon, part of the sacred fire connecting the colony with its mother city and giving to it a sure identity and autonomy. All  these elements can explain the polyvalent significance of the  term apoikia.

resolve some of the difficulties of Milesian colonisation there. Considering the dates of the early 6th century rural settlements established in the chora of Istros, of the  defence wall erected at the end of the Archaic period, and of the  building period of the temple area (Zone Sacrée) from the mid 6th century BC onwards, he concludes that Istros was an apoikia occupied by successive waves of colonists (epoikoi) (Avram 2003, 286). The name of Istros, being the  name of a local river, is itself neutral. Thus, the  testimony of Ps.-Skymnos and Eusebius might be regarded as authentic because Istros would be at the  beginning an  apoikia.

Apoikia is even today preferred by Manucu Adamesteanu for the settlement of Orgame (Manucu Adamesteanu 2003, 345) and by many scholars studying the settlement of Berezan, in an attempt to replace that of emporion which displayed an obvious commercial orientation (Vinogradov 1983, 374; Tsetskhladze 1998, 21). It is not within the scope of this work to debate the question of the applicability of both terms here, but it could be relevant for the study of the similarities of Ionian colonies in Pontos. Thus, judging from the data at our disposal, the settlements of Orgame, Istros and Berezan would reflect in their first stage, in our opinion, a desire of migration rather than of genuine colonisation.

Archaeologically, there is no real doubt about a Milesian presence in Istros at its foundation. For Strabo [14.1.6], the  Black Sea was entirely colonised by them, as were the Propontis and a good many other regions. However, whether both sources concerning the foundation of Istros, in 630  BC at Demetrios of Callatis mentioned by Pseudo‑Skymnos and in 657/6 BC at Eusebius, refer to the same initial phase of occupation or to two successive phases at Istros is questionable. Anyway, in Avram’s opinion, Istros received massively ca. 600/580 BC an additional group of epoikoi, refounding the former colony. “Une deuxième vague de colons installés à Istros vers le milieu du VIe s. pourrait être suggérée par l’essor de la ville et l’apparition de nouveaux établissements dans le territoire de la cité, alors qu’une troisième est hautement probable après la conquête de Milet en 494“ (Avram 2003, 286). Contrary to the previous theory, Vanessa Gorman (2003, 71) cannot accept Milesian colonisation as occurring in waves or stages. At Istros, the  fact is clearly documented by its historical evolution in the Archaic period.

The structure of the Berezan necropolis did not remain fixed throughout the centuries. In the second half of the  6th  century cremations represent 66% of the burials, but with increasing variability in mortuary practice, cremations account for only 17% in the first half of the 5th century (Treister 1994, 13). This phenomenon is common in many Ionian colonies of the north of the Black Sea, as well as in the necropoleis of their chora, where the inhumation seems to be predominant. Despite the scarcity of the information offered by Skadovskii, what we can see in the Berezan necropolis is not exactly a changing from cremation to inhumation, but a juxtaposition of new burial practices with the pre-existing ones which looked back to the past. If it is difficult today to assume that cremation of adults was exclusively practiced at the beginning of the settlement in the second half of the 7th century BC (Eusebius, 646/5  BC), it is not difficult to observe a remarkable dominance of cremation tombs during its early period. From the first half of the 5th century BC onwards, a different pattern clearly emerges, with inhumation dominant in the burial practices  – a structure common in many contemporaneous necropoleis in the Black Sea area, such as Olbia or the  rural cemeteries in the chora of Istros. At this point, I cannot completely agree with my colleague Damianov who tentatively explains this phenomenon of changing from cremation to inhumation in the northwest Greek necropoleis only by political changes (Damianov 1995, 77–97). It  was in fact the result of the developing colonial process characterised by the juxtaposition of many waves of settlers in this area and by the flourishing of the polis of Olbia, in strong connection with that of Berezan.

The same development cannot be invoked for Orgame. Much evidence, mainly archaeological but also literary, suggests that the beginning of this settlement is at least contemporary if not earlier than that of Istros (Lungu 2000a, 110). To judge from the chronology of an Ionian cup of Samian provenance, attributed to Villard A2 type (Vierneisel and Walter 1959, 18–9 [Brunnen 6], fig.33.3, about 710– 640/30 BC; Schlotzhauer 1995, 2000, type J), and two Clazomenian amphoras of the middle of the  7th century BC (Lungu 2000b, 81, fig. 4; 2000–2001, 178, fig.  7; Dupont and Scarlatidou 2005, 77–81) in the  tumulus‑heroon, as well as from the ‘Middle Wild Goat I’ sherds found in the settlement and dated around 640–630 BC by Manucu Adamesteanu (2000, 196, fig. 1.1), or earlier 665/60–650/45  BC, after Kaüfler’ chronology (1999, 204–12), it is possible to speak, at least at present, about a chronology close to the middle of the 7th century BC. Furthermore, Orgame appears at the beginning established as an  independent body, most probably as a polis exported abroad (=apoikia), according to Hecataios’s information: Orgame polis epi to Istro [Stephan’s of Byzantion, Ethnica, FGrHist I, fr. 172]. The  use and the  meaning of polis, which has been connected by us with the organisational structure of the necropolis in the  Archaic period, are also of significance in this context. Polis can serve here in an urban sense. We are tempted at this point to follow Hansen’s fair assumption about Hekataios’s intention “to use polis in the urban sense of the term” (Hansen

The same situation is not to be found at Istros itself, where Avram has put forward a theory which attempts to 56

Greek-Ionian Necropoleis in the Black Sea area: Cremation and Colonisation

1997b, 20). By comparison with Istros, Orgame appears as secondary by its historical development, according to its smaller dimensions and scarcity of literary, epigraphical, and archaeological evidence concerning its monuments, even if its foundation must be placed about the middle of the  7th  century BC. It could have come into Histrian hands by at least the second half of the  5th  century, when Orgame is listed on the Athenian tribute lists (Avram 1995, 197; 2001, 611). A similar occurrence is recorded by the same tribute lists which indicate some small poleis dependent on Erythrai (Hansen 1997b, 24–5). The presumption is that the settlement of Orgame was by this time a small polis dependent on Istros. Moreover, the Histrians extended their territory to the north, obtaining a large section of land across the Danube Delta to the north-east, including the  town of Nikonion.

early as the first half of the  7th  century BC (Ivantchik 2001,  308). Contemporaneously with Scythian actions occurred the  oppression of the Lydian king Gyges against Ionian cities, with Miletos, Smyrna, and Kolophon the most affected [Hdt.  1.14]. It may well be, despite the  few examples cited here, that these synchronisms are not coincidences; as we have seen, Miletos managed the  situation of the  cities affected by Kimmerian (or  Scythian) raids, and their chronology effectively supports the high date for the  foundations of Orgame and Istros. For the  latter, an  account in Eusebios’s chronicle reveals 657/6  BC as its date of foundation. Assuming the prominent role of Miletos is true, we can suggest that some people from the  Ionian cities damaged by these troubles, notably Milesians, were those who migrated and founded the first apoikiai in the  north and west of the  Pontus Euxinus.

Apart from these factors, it is significant that the  evidence for the burning of dead and the grouping of tombs in familial plots or under a single mound is seen at both Orgame and Istros. The situation of excavations in Berezan is far from clear, but its necropolis offers an obviously different panorama of funeral practices in comparison with the above mentioned sites. Berezan seems more attached to the necropoleis at Olbia and Apollonia. Trying to decide on a particular explanation in a comparative study between these sites may be presumptuous because of the significant discrepancy in the quantity of examples uncovered during excavations: 3000 tombs excavated at Olbia, 1500 at Apollonia, and ca. 900 in Berezan, in contrast with 40 tumuli excavated in Istros and 70 in Orgame. But the archaeological situation permits us to observe a well established coherence of cremation starting in the Archaic period, and continuing down into Hellenistic times at Berezan, as at Orgame and Istros.

The archaeological record makes Orgame a particular case. It seems to indicate there a unitary group of immigrants led by an oikistes, rather than a mixed group of colonists dislocated from Ionian cities and sent to create a  colony. At Istros, according to the differences between the main necropolis and the necropoleis of its chora, we  must distinguish between the first groups which established the  apoikia and the groups of later colonists (epoikoi). It  appears that they come in a second stage as groups attached to the main group established there before. Considering the usage of cremation from the beginning of the colony, it must have been exclusively practiced at Istros, while its chora indicates the performance of different burial customs. Even if clear evidence does not exist, it seems possible that the new waves of colonists later caused some variations among funeral practices. The  north Pontic necropoleis provide possible examples. There, the  archaeological evidence testified that the settlement of Berezan (Borysthenes) was the first settled by apoikoi, later partially transferred to Olbia, but leaving a part on the island and mixing with new populations. Consequently, we can think here about a similar situation as on the west shore.

Cremation was associated by Thucydides with epidemics or military invasions [Hist. 2.52; 6.71]. Basing himself on the reason for the foundation of Chalcis in the 8th  century BC [Strabo 6.1], Cawkwell argues his theory about Greek colonisation in the 8th and 7th centuries, which “was, it  may be posited, the core not of the endemic evil of over‑population but of the epidemic woes of climate disaster” (Cawkwell 1992, 302). It may explain the  establishing of cremation, according to Thucydides, as the main rite by small groups of immigrants obliged to go far from their homeland. According to Ehrhardt (1983, 250), Milesian colonisation paused from ca.  680–650  BC, probably because of the  invasion of the Kimmerians into Asia Minor. Graham (1987, 124–9) disputes this hypothesis as based on an  argumentum ex silentio. Strabo [14.1.40] recounted the  role of Miletos which held the city of Magnesia when it  was ruined by the invading Kimmerians in the 7th  century. Demetrios of Callatis, mentioned by Ps.-Skymnos, sought a chronology of the  foundation of Istros in the  time of the  Scythian invasion in Asia Minor, long ago if unconvincingly placed about 630 BC (Avram 2003, 284). Based on recent epigraphical and literary research, Ivantchik argued that the Scythians who followed the Kimmerians were present in Asia Minor as

In the light of these new data, the necropolis of Orgame appears to be the most homogenous in its burial customs, as it reflects a society based at the beginning by the power of the genos with some eminent groups distinguished during the centuries. To explain the varying usage of the genos power there, we find ourselves thrown back on possible ancillary factors such as the Apollo Ietros cult, developed by the aristocratic genos in Istros (Ehrhardt 1983, 138) “dont le sacerdoce était monopolisé pas les descendants de l’oeciste” (Avram 2003, 300). This growing attention to the Apollo Ietros cult is another particularity of the  west Pontic colonies. This is not surprising, considering the fact that war is the main source of damages such as famine or illness, while one of the primary duties of the  immigrants established abroad was to honor Apollo, the  god of Milesian colonisation, as the saviour of their life. I would suggest that the remarkable attention paid to Apollo Ietros in the  west and north Pontic colonies has a good explanation in the  context of the consequences of Lydian and Kimmerian (Scythians) attacks concentrated on the Ionian cities in the  first half 57

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of the 7th century BC. Being forced to leave their homes to build a new life in ‘barbarian’ lands, the  Ionian settlers would need divine protection.

pl.  113, coppa ionica d’imitazione locale), or of Clazomenian amphorae in Pithekousai, Orgame and Kolomak, north of the Black Sea (Lungu 2000b, 81, fig.4; 2000–2001, 178, fig. 7; Dupont and Scarlatidou 2005, 77–82), offers a  new and significant parallel which may serve our discussion by noting common marketplaces for both areas. Added to a  previous debate opened by Alexandrescu (2000, 517–20) on comparative discussion of occidental and oriental Greek colonisation, these parallels provide the framework for new and complex debates about the character of the first Greek installations in foreign lands.

This study has had two aims, first of all, to establish the place of cremation in the burial customs of the west and north Pontic colonies, and secondly, to investigate how this rite is to be explained and interpreted in the  context of Greek colonisation. The investigation has been focused on the literary and archaeological evidence, both in defining the cremation rites and its specific characteristics in the  Ionian colonies of the Black Sea and in relating them to the  general process of implantation of Greeks among ‘barbarian’ communities. The discussion focused on the  beginning of these implantations has been considered as particularly important, since the chronology and the  conditions were distinct from one colony to another. It  is significant to find good parallels at this point in other colonial areas, for example, in Italy to understand that cremation is not specifically Ionian, Aeolian or Phoenician,  etc., but a  panhellenic phenomenon.

If all this evidence is taken into account, not just the  exceptional cases, cremation appears as the principal rite at the beginning of the new settlement at Orgame and, probably, at Istros and Berezan. The Heroon in Orgame and the cult activities connected to it attest that the  foundational activities of the oikistes did really exist; still, it is  inconceivable that the act of foundation did not refer to the original city (motherland) supposed to be Miletos, by analogy with Istros. Despite all evidence, the  role of the mother city is not revealed. Dominant were the nature and the character of the colonising group (genos). Maybe the  significance of the first cremations come from the exceptional duty of this foundational group which corresponds more to a repetitive activity of ‘allumer le foyer’, that is, building a new home for a new society in a new land, with new neighbours. The  Heroon cult “could truly belong only to the new city, since it could not have been imported from any mother city” (Malkin 2002,  200). The  perpetuity of cremation for many centuries in the  necropolis of Orgame may suggest a strong personality of the original genos preserving its original unity for many generations and being completely closed to new waves of immigrants. In contrast, close Istros and distant Berezan had open frontiers and received new waves of settlers. We  can note the facts that join these cities with each other and the other aspects that separate them. Consequently, the value of the recent discoveries on the  Pontic coast becomes considerable in studying the dynamics of Greek colonisation.

To explain that, we can follow the parallels established between the Ionian necropoleis in the Black Sea and those of the Euboean Pithekousai in the central Mediterranean. The  funeral evidence of cremation burials surmounted by tumuli as dominant in the Archaic period from Orgame is close to that in Pithekousai, with a height percentage of cremations (60%, d’Agostino 1999, 214). It  is important to remark that the usage of cremation burials is incompatible there, too, with the Euboean origin of the colony. We  recognise analogous situations in Pontic Milesian colonies, with the  necropolis of Istros, for example, obviously different from that of its mother city, Miletos. The social structure in Pithekousai centred on the genos suggests a  good analogy for Orgame. Another parallel is that there were generally no finds of weapons in Orgame, as in the  necropolis at Pithekousai. As for the  archaeological record, the presence of the same ancient type of Ionian cup at Orgame (Lungu 2000b, 82a,b) and Pithekousai (Bucher and Ridgway 1993, 352,

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Greeks and the Local Populations in Magna Graecia and in Gaul Jean-Paul Morel The colonisation allowed Greece of the origins, the  little Greece of the Aegean zone, to increase considerably in size, diversity, wealth, and influence. The memory of this influence is still alive from the Pontus Euxinus to the  Atlantic Ocean, from Iberia of Orient to that of Occident, and that in both fields, connected but different, indicated by the word ‘colonisation’: on the one hand, the creation of colonies; on the other hand, the relations with the native communities. I want to comment on some problems of this second aspect of Greek colonisation with regard to Magna Graecia and Gaul.

erased, in my opinion. It upsets the  balance of the  native communities, with harmful effects: the  disappearance, the  hasty move, or the decline of their settlements. Such is the case especially in the Sybaritis, but also at Metapontum, Siris, Locri, Poseidonia and Cumae. Paradoxically some scholars have interpreted the desertion of the indigenous centres in Calabria at the very period when the Greek colonies were established as an evidence of peaceful coexistence of the natives with Greeks, who were supposed to have immediately mingled with each other. What we  observe (that is the eradication of the natives, or the  decline of their settlements) is not consistent with the hypothesis of Alfonso de Franciscis, for example, who wrote: “the Greeks came, basically, in search of land and in search of trade, not in order to conquer or to subdue”: moreover could the  Greeks obtain land without despoiling some natives, with a few exceptions.

First I observe that people the Western scholars call ‘natives’ are instead called ‘local populations’ by the Eastern scholars. This latter denomination better acknowledges the  political, economical and cultural personality of the  natives. I shall insist on this aspect of our problem, a  marginal, perhaps, but nevertheless essential element of the archaic Greek world.

The circumstances of the foundations

All this raises the big question of the ‘terra di nessuno’, the ‘no man’s land’ or rather the ‘nobody’s land’. It would be too easy to say literally “the old thema of the ‘eremos chora’”. There were not always natives on the very site of the colonies when the Greeks arrived, for example at Pithecoussai or at Velia; but nevertheless in the case of Velia the Greeks are said to have “bought a town” from the Oinotrians (ektesanto polin gês tês Oinôtriès, Herodotus)  – this is to mean: to have “bought a territory to found a city” from the natives, who therefore had been the owners of that territory.

Let us begin with the circumstances of the foundations of Greek colonies, distinguishing three cases for Magna Graecia. 1) A strong resistance of the local population, which sometimes induces a renunciation of the Greeks. That is notably the case of Iapygia. The natives offered vigorous resistance to the Greeks, which culminated in 473 BC with Taranto’s defeat and “a huge slaughter of Greeks”, phonos hellenikos megistos (Herodotus). The Greeks did not insist, and Taranto did not settle any subcolony on the  Adriatic sea (even though it was not far away), unlike the colonies of the Ionian coast of Calabria who in a similarly isthmic position settled subcolonies on the  Tyrrhenian sea. This  is an Adriatic situation, with the  absence of archaic Greek colonies which characterises that sea. In Apulia, the  presence of indigenous settlements in the low coastal zones that the Hellenes liked (and not, as in other regions of Magna Graecia, on heights at some distance from the coast) and the  enterprising spirit of peoples such as Daunians, interfered with the plans of the Greeks.

So we often observe at the beginning of the colonisation a situation of conflict, or at least a very difficult situation for the local populations. Then, in the 7th–6th centuries BC, the relations between the Greeks and the natives are thought (at least from an hellenocentric point of view) to have become more peaceful, with a modus vivendi (perhaps from this moment onwards because of the weakness of the natives). A few words about Gaul in particular. Greek Gaul, that is, for the Archaic period, essentially Marseilles/ Massalia, is a special case compared with Magna Graecia, because it is characterised in the beginning by an almost emporical situation. A main feature of emporia practised by the  Phocaeans was to bring indirectly the local populations into contact with the Mediterranean, thanks to trade and for the benefit of trade. The Phocaeans were like technicians of that commercial venture. The  Phocaeans’ emporia did not work without the agreement of the local populations. Therefore the relations between the Greeks and the local populations in Gaul include a first stage which does not exist in Magna Graecia. The first reception is peaceful, or even warm. The Phocaean presence is welcomed by the local populations or at least by their chiefs, because for them it

2) The cautious progression, of which a typical case is the transfer from Pithecoussai to Cumae of the Euboeans, who ‘dared’ cross into the continent only at a second stage, deinde in continentem aussi sedes transferre [Livy VIII, 22, 5]: all the more because those pioneers were isolated in the most remote place (for a long time) reached by the  Greeks in the West (two centuries later the Phokaians acted in the same way at Ampurias, which at that time suffered a similar isolation). 3) What I would term the ‘ordinary’ colonisation can better be assimilated to a brutal conquest: a fact that is too often 59

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opens a window upon the world: the king of the  Segobrigii Nannus behaves at Marseilles like Arganthonios in Tartessos, the king of Tarquinia at  Gravisca, Tarquinius Priscus at  Rome, and probably the  Indiketan chief at Ampurias. But the  Phocaeans’ long-term settlement turns the local population hostile. Then we find a similar situation to that of the Greeks in Magna Graecia. But in Gaul the  situation of Phocaeans is worsened by the  geographical isolation of Massalia, by their lack of interest or of capability for a  terrestrial expansion despite the  immensity of the  hinterland, by the  pugnacity of the  natives. In other words, Greeks are more on the  defensive than in Magna Graecia. In  a third stage a modus vivendi develops more or less, with this mixture of cautious mistrust and of mutual interest that Livy [34, 9] describes so well for Emporion/ Ampurias.

Marseilles (a series of huts inside a fortified enclosure) probably housed, as has been said, “families of native farmers, working for Massalia”. But was it a collective farm? A barrack-farm? Or an ergastulum-farm? Anyway, if there was coexistence as is likely, this word alone does not signify anything: it ought to be completed by an appreciation of its social significance. Only a few cases seem relatively clear. Iron spears in tombs at Metauros or at Francavilla Marittima near Sybaris suggest the presence of free, or semi-free natives. At Policoro, it has been supposed that there was a ‘mixed’ necropolis, because two types of pottery, Greek and indigenous, were found there: a problem which is at the same time different and analogous to that of a tumular necropolis probably mixed, ‘Graeco-Thracian’, at Histria (where the offerings are Greek, and the funerary rites barbarian), and, more generally, to that of the Milesian colonies of the Pontus Euxinus.

Topographical and geographical aspects

If we consider now topographical and geographical aspects, we can again distinguish three situations.

Generally speaking, it is difficult to define, to delimit, to interpret the chorai, for the chora is a land of margins, of fringes, with, once again, an immense problem of interpretation of archaeological data which are often ambiguous. It is very difficult to detect the presence of natives in the chora, even more difficult to define their status, even in the Pontus Euxinus, where concrete investigations about the territories of the cities has for a  long time been considered very avant-garde.

1) The Town

There were natives in the Greek towns (and natives also frequented Greek sanctuaries, at least extra-urban ones). But were they integrated? Obviously not, as far as citizenship is concerned. As it has been said, “the city excludes, by definition, the indigenous world”. The group barbarians-slaves-women is opposed to the polis, ‘club of men’, ‘club of citizens’. The question of the place reserved to natives in the city regards above all women and slaves, the non-citizens par excellence.

3) The Hinterland

Let us go farther out of the chora. Were there Greeks in the strictly speaking native societies, in the deep hinterland? The hinterland began quite near the colonies, for the Greek settlements at the periphery of the colonies were very rarely situated at more than fifteen kilometres or so from the towns. Further away was another world. The  Greek colonisation was basically a maritime and coastal one. Only exceptionally and rather slowly it  achieved some territorial continuity. As a general rule there was no question of dominating a deep hinterland beyond the chora: a great difference with Roman or even Etruscan colonisation.

The presence of native women in the Greek colonial societies is revealed by tenuous signs. For example, according to pottery, the presence of native women in the population of Massalia in the first decades after the  foundation is evaluated at about 20 %. In Magna Graecia, some fibulae of Italic type were made by the Greeks of Pithecussae and Cumae. There is a debate about the meaning of that fact, but it seems indubitable that the initial impulse was given by native women. We must take into consideration the  necessity for the Greeks, at the beginning of the colonies, to ‘get’ women ‘on site’.

At Garaguso, about fifty kilometres from Metapontum in the hinterland, in Oinotrian territory, I have excavated a settlement, a necropolis, and two votive deposits, which therefore give a fairly complete idea of the situation in a native society. There are many Greek objects, but no unquestionable proof of the real presence of Greeks. The  case of fortifications of Greek type built in native areas of Italy (in Lucania) and of Gaul (Saint-Blaise near Marseilles) is an emblematic one: are they Greek? Or indigenous? Once  more it is a classic problem of interpretation: exportation of techniques, with the presence of Greek architects on the  site? Or natives copying Greek fortifications in whose construction they could have participated?

As for slaves, how did the Greeks get them? Through native chiefs like those who in Gaul, according to Diodorus Siculus [5, 26, 2–3], gave one slave in exchange for one amphora of wine? Or by expeditions launched by the  Greeks themselves? A necropolis in Paestum has revealed 160  tombs of slaves of the late Archaic period. Their appearance can be related to the disappearance of the near native settlements, as if it were raids which had procured slaves for the Greek city.

2) The Chora

It is a general opinion that the Greeks exploited their chorai employing natives. Were the latter slaves? Semi-free men? Or free ones? This problem also comes up against the difficulty of the interpretation of the archaeological signs. One example: the settlement at Le Verduron, near

The problem of the hinterland concerns above all individual cases, the Dick Whittaker’s ‘individual frontiersmen’, even if 60

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this phenomenon could sometimes exist on a more massive scale, as during the great Ionian migration in Etruria, which produced the artistic influences that we know. Usually we  have at the best an isolated inscription, like a  dedication to Heracles by a potter (kerameus) Nicomachos at San Mauro Forte in the far hinterland of Metapontum, or the  graffito of an Eukritos (perhaps a Massaliote trader) on a Neapolitan black vase at Roanne in the heart of Gaul.

Ruozzo at Teano, a town of the Sidicini 25 km north-west of Capua, less than 50 kilometres from Naples and Cumae. Almost no Greek imports. But many of the innumerable votive offerings that we found there show more or less clearly a Hellenic influence. The Greek models were adopted (or refused) with a variety of interpretations which range from the ‘almost Greek’ to the absolutely inorganic. For example with terracotta warriors’ heads (Fig. 1), some of

Those are marginal elements in every sense of the word, perhaps even “colonisers turned natives” (Whittaker again). But they are all the more important because those Greeks were generally traders, craftsmen or artists. Those men were in the local populations, as says Brian Shefton, as “leaven in dough”.

Cultural aspects

If we come now more specifically to the cultural area properly speaking (which has a central place in our symposium), it is obvious that in the immense majority of the cases it was the Greeks who furnished models and products: writing and money, olive-tree and wheel-made pottery, certain types of urbanism or fortifications. But conversely can we see an indigenous influence or component in some particularities of the art of Magna Graecia compared with that of Greece, as has been supposed for the religious architecture of Locri? Or simply a colonial fact, that is the mentality of a powerful new world liberated from the traditions of the mother country, or also, as some scholars affirm more disdainfully, a certain ‘provincialism’ or even ‘degeneration’? This discussion must also take into account, as has been proposed for Gaul, indigenous contributions concerning agriculture, medicine, language, exploitation of local resources, ceramic types, table manners, cooking, etc.

Fig. 1. Terracotta warriors’ heads from Teano

Concerning cultural contacts between Greeks and natives in Magna Graecia and Gaul, scholars often hesitate between reserve and disregard. 1)’Reserve’: the vocabulary has become more cautious. Rather than ‘acculturation’ or ‘hellenisation’, some people say now ‘strategy of relations’ or ‘diffusion of behaviour models’. 2) ‘Disregard’: it results of a history of ancient art conditioned for a long time by classicism and not converted by the lessons of Ranuccio Bianchi Bandinelli on ‘organicity’ and ‘abstraction’.

whom are close to their models (but with protruding eyes which are the mark of a local art), others so far from their models that they could be taken for true caricatures. There is a  great liberty in the reception of influences, but not a  total incommunicability between two worlds. The  same liberty characterises an imitation of the 6th century Greek kouroi, strangely limited to the inferior half of the body (perhaps a sort of anatomical ex-voto?). The same remark can be made for a warrior (whose helmet had originally a big crest) where Greeks influences are perceptible, but with the tendency of Italic art to abbreviate the human figures (the statue is abruptly cut under the torso). Some statuettes, reminiscent in their structure and details of kouroi of the  third quarter of 6th century BC, are in complete contrast to other ones, absolutely rustic or with a totally Italic bi-dimensionality, etc (Fig. 2).

One example. According to Mario Napoli, a good connoisseur of the native world of the Campanian periphery, “if we look at the works of art or of artistic craftsmanship produced in the 6th–5th centuries BC in the Campanian area, we realise that not any echo of the Greek artistic vision arrived in the Campanian hinterland with the  Greek products. There is an impassable barrier between both cultures, due to the ‘unclassicism’ (‘aclassicismo’) of the  Campanian populations”. Here we are at the heart of  the debate about Italic art in its relations with the art of Magna Graecia.

This mixture of assimilation and of opposition between two worlds is very complex and, even at a single location (like Teano), extremely diversified. It is possible to be scandalised – and many people are – before those vicissitudes of Greek art. But it is also possible to appreciate positively those indestructible ferments of an indigenous artistic autonomy.

We can illustrate the necessity of more balanced opinions with the great votive deposit of the sanctuary of Fondo 61

J.-P. Morel

Fig. 4. The Oinotrian vase of the 6th century BC 3) The schematisation. Inversely, plastic figurations of Greek origin can be converted into abstract and geometric shapes. At Garaguso once more, on Oinotrian vases of the  6th century BC, a St Andrew’s cross with a pole reminds us of the torch with four arms (Fig. 5), a well known accessory of the cult of Demeter in the Greek colonies of the coast, Siris and Metapontum. It has been said that this is a case of “a naturalism seen geometrically”.

Fig. 2. Terracotta statuettes imitating Greek kouroi of the  third quarter of the 6th century BC from Teano Let us note some other tendencies (among many) of the Italic reactions towards Greek art, with regard to the  Oinotrian site of Garaguso in Basilicata, in the far hinterland of Metapontum. 1) The polychromy and especially the use of red (a  colour with an often magical significance). One minor but typical example: an imitation of an Ionian B2 cup of the  6th  century BC (Fig. 3): the shape is fairly well imitated, but the  invariably brown concentric bands of the  Greek models are reproduced with two colours, brown and red.

Fig. 5. The Oinotrian vase of the 6th century BC 4) The exaggeration in comparison with the Greek models. The natives want to make or to buy ‘better’, much ‘better’, than the Greeks. The only scale model of a Greek temple in marble, not in terracotta, was found in Garaguso (Fig. 6), with a  marble statuette of a  seated goddess, both dated to around 475 BC. Similarly the  greatest Greek bronze crater ever found was discovered in Vix, very far in the  hinterland of Gaul. Pottery of the  Oinotrian settlement of Palinuro imitates the  Ionian ceramics of the  near Velia, but with an  exaggerated accentuation of some details, like the  proliferation of the  twists of the  handles. We  observe the  same phenomenon in Gaul with the  pottery of the  indigenous settlement of Le  Pègue, in the  deep hinterland, in comparison with Ionian ceramics  of  Marseilles.

Fig. 3. Local imitation of an Ionian B2 cup of the 6th century BC from Garaguso 2) The anthropomorphisation of geometric elements. On Oinotrian vases of the 6th century BC (Fig. 4), triangles filled with cross hatching remind us of some motives of Greek ceramics. But they are flanked by raised arms with schematic hands, thus resembling torsos with an  undeniable power of evocation, although deprived of head and legs, in conformity with the abbreviative tendency or Italic art.

We ought also to evocate what we could name the  ‘cultural imitation’ or ‘emulation’, that is the allusion to Greek ideals or institutions more or less assimilated. The  knowledge of symposion, ephebeia, palaestra, hippeia, or the desire for access to them, become apparent by the  borrowing of 62

Greeks and the Local Populations in Magna Graecia and in Gaul

the symposion was often transplanted onto former local customs of the festive or ostentatious consumption of alcoholic drinks: where we  had supposed the introduction ex nihilo of a new custom, we ought rather to speak of the transformation of a pre-existent need. Generally speaking, there was an indigenous initiative. And conversely the Greek products and models did not always impose themselves very quickly on the natives, not only in the hinterland, but also sometimes in almost coastal areas. For example it took them one century to reach Garaguso, about fifty kilometres from Metapontum, and we note a similar delay in coastal Campania: as if a sort of indifference or ignorance between the Greeks and the surrounding natives had prevailed often and for a long time. It is time to conclude briefly. Finally we are in a field where nothing is simple, because it is a matter of relations between two very different worlds. In addition things vary enormously depending on period, region, and identity of the colonisers and of the local populations. We must avoid an aseptic and idyllic idea of Greek colonisation, despite its immense cultural contribution to native populations: this colonisation was devoid of neither violence, nor ruse. We  must have as equilibrated an appreciation as possible of the various cultures. On the other hand a  social approach is necessary beyond the ethnic one: social classes subdivide ethnic groups (see for example the ‘international of the  chieftains’ tombs’). Anyway one thing is sure: despite their conflicts, the local populations and the Greeks, indissolubly bound for better or for worse, have together made Magna Graecia as well as preRoman southern Gaul.

Fig. 6. The marble model of a Greek temple found in Garaguso objects, products, customs, figurations of all sorts: craters, strainers, cheese graters, phialai, tripods, cauldrons, weapons of Greek type, athletic use of oil, pederastic graffiti, or figures like the horseman of Grumento. It is difficult to measure the degree and significance of this cultural assimilation. This debate is made richer by ethnology and comparatism. Thus Michael Dietler has revealed the role of alcohol in some indigenous societies, independently of Greek offers. The introduction by the  Greeks of wine and

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Greek Gems and Rings of the Archaic Period. The Formation of the Hermitage Collection Oleg Neverov A large group of Archaic gems and signet rings of the  6th to 5th centuries BC – some 150 items in all – was gradually assembled within the context of the Hermitage Museum’s collection of Classical glyptics. Just how did it come into being?

man‑eating mares that Diomedes, King of Thrace, kept locked up, feeding them on human f lesh. This time the  engraver produced a multi-figure composition, with the  horses’ brazen stalls and a victim sacrificed to their hunger, the Thracian King’s wild horses and Heracles himself giving them to drink. There is a replica of the  Hermitage gem in Berlin (Zippold 1922, Taf. 38, 2).

A small number of pieces, four items only, were to be found in Catherine II’s huge dactyliotheca (composed of over 10000 pieces). Their precise provenance and date was almost certainly not known at the time: to the collectorEmpress herself they were simply ‘antiqs’, whether they were carved by ancient masters or by European gem-engravers of the 16th or even the 17th century! When Catherine’s librarian, H. Köhler, compiled a major work on scarab gems (Köhler 1852, 109–204), all the gems he looked at proved to be Etruscan. Köhler discovered a paradox: the  most ancient of the items (6th–4th centuries BC) were the most developed, in a style more familiar to us today, while despite all expectations the later pieces were more primitive and generalised. Later the term a globolo (from the Italian word globolo – sphere) was used to describe these coarser gems of the Hellenistic era (3rd–2nd centuries BC).

The last of the Archaic Greek gems from Catherine’s collection is a cornelian scarab, the subject of which was identified by M. Maksimova (1926, 36). It proved to illustrate an Egyptian tale of how a good demon in the  form of a huge snake saved a traveller lost at sea. Today an  Egyptian papyrus relating the tale (from the  collection of V. S.  Golenishchev) and the scarab are united in a  single museum, the Hermitage. The gem may have been the work of a master of the Graeco-Phoenician circle, working on Crete. In 1813 three Archaic gems entered the Hermitage in the  form of a gift to Emperor Alexander I from the  diplomat Jean-Baptiste Mallia of Vienna. Engraved on one of these is a raging bull, on another a naval ship with rowers and a captain. Best of all, however, is the cornelian scarab on which the master depicted a little scene filled with humour: a drunken centaur at the feast of the King of the Lapiths. His legs can barely keep him up, his lips bear a tipsy smile, but he nonetheless tries to pull up a knotted tree trunk to wield in a fight at the wedding at which he is a guest. This  seal was perhaps intended as a warning to a young Greek with difficulty controlling his wine consumption!

On a cornelian scarab that came into Catherine’s possession in 1787 as part of the collection of the Duke d’Orléans (Paris), one 6th-century engraver produced an image of a youthful rider, an anabates (one who does acrobatics on horseback, including leaping from its back and then mounting into the saddle once more). There is a  copy of the Hermitage scarab in the British Museum that derives from the island of Samos. John Boardman describes the author of these gems as one of those working in a  dry style (Boardman 1968, 77 ff.). Perhaps the engraver broke Solon’s celebrated rule forbidding the making of copies or the keeping of repetitions of seals, safe in the  knowledge that the seals’ owners would be divided by a broad expanses of sea.

During the reign of Nicolas I purchases were complemented by finds made in the Crimea and southern Russia by the  Imperial Archaeological Commission. In  1845 the  diplomat Dmitry Tatishchev bequeathed to the Tsar his valuable dactyliotheca, which included Archaic Greek gems. Southern Russian gems are of particular value in that we  know the  archaeological context in which they were found along with other objects, among them – most importantly – coins. The scholars H. Köhler and L. Stefani contributed greatly to fundamental study of these objects.

Carved on the second gem, a sard scaraboid acquired at the end of the 18th century from the collection of Joseph de France in Vienna, is that popular Greek hero Heracles, shown in the ‘kneeling run’ pose with his mighty club raised to destroy the Lernaean Hydra. Here the Hydra looks something like a rather benign snake, this perhaps being simply the kind of humorous detail that frequently enlivens works by Archaic masters, along with the gentle smile on the hero’s lips. This work can be placed in the  Group of the Tzivanopoulos Satyr (according to Boardman’s classification), characteristic of Late Archaic glyptics in the Eastern part of the Greek world.

Some Greek engravers of the Archaic period adopted a  new form of seal in place of the usual scarab or abstract scaraboid: the pseudo-scarab, in which the back of the gem was engraved not with a relief insect but with a reclining lion, a full-length satyr or a satyr mask. Just such a gem found in Kerch bears a running lion on the flat side with a reclining lion on the reverse (Reinach 1892, pl. 16: 8).

From the collection of the diplomat de Breteuil the  Empress acquired a sard gem bearing a scene of the  eighth of Heracles’ twelve labours, in which King Eurystheus ordered the hero to bring back the wild

In 1859, during the reign of Alexander II, two magnificent Archaic gems were presented to the Tsar by D. Cebrario. Carved on one, which still has its Ancient movable mount, is 64

Greek Gems and Rings of the Archaic Period

an engraved head of Athena with her symbol, an owl, while the other bears a virtuoso image of a satyr hunter catching a mounting goat or ibex (Neverov 1976, pl. 8: 11).

Some masters of Archaic gems engraved their names on their works, so that today we know of Aristoteiches, Epimenes, Onesimos and others, but this was still far less frequent than in the Classical era. No name is known, for instance, for the engraver Boardman called The Master of the Leningrad Gorgon, in honour of the gem found in 1869 in a burial in the Panticapaeum necropolis Uz‑Oba. Here the  engraver depicted a four-winged woman in a  terrible mask with snakes in her hands. The artist’s skill in conveying the effect of her transparent robes seems to speak of the next, Classical, stage in the development of gem engraving.

A landmark in the history of the Museum’s glyptics collection was the acquisition in 1865 of a whole collection of 36 gems assembled by Professor Ludwig Ross of Halle. Truly scholarly in scope, the collection had no examples from the Classical, Hellenistic or Roman eras, starting with Aegean gems of the second millennium BC and concluding with Archaic Greek engraved stones. A large group was made up of so-called ‘island gems’ of the 7th – 6th centuries BC. Alongside real animals they show fantastical beasts. Amongst the first are a leaping youthful ibex; among the  second Pegasus and the chimera. We are particularly amazed by the depiction of a winged ibex in which the  engraver seems to have sought to create an  imaginary beast that could exist in three elements – in the  air, on the  earth and beneath the  water (Neverov, 2000, fig. 8). Ross even indicated on which islands in the Aegean his gems had been found: Melos, Aegina and Cyprus.

In 1880 the Hermitage received an agate scarab with a  comic scene of the abduction of a woman by a satyr from the archaeologist A. E. Lutsenko (Neverov 1976, pl. 13). In 1911, a colourless scarab was found in the  Panticapaeum necropolis with a skilful depiction of a lioness in the  manner of the engraver Aristoteiches. In 1949 archaeologists discovered in the Nymphaeum a  colourless scarab from the Island of Cyprus with a  depiction of a f lying beetle (Khudyak 1962, 17, pl. 5.2).

One gem shows the Phoenician hero Melcartus, hypostases of the Greek Heracles. Of particular interest here is the genre scene showing a competition of acrobats wearing armour. Clearly the owner of this seal wished to commemorate his own victory in the agon. The Hermitage has another similar gem showing a performance by circus beasts: a pig with a  piglet, monkeys and a learned raven.

Lastly, in 1964 a collection bequeathed to the Hermitage by the gemmologist G. G. Lemmlein (Moscow) brought an  Archaic gem of glass with the figure of a boar (Inv.  no. Zh 6627).

An example of the daring experiments undertaken by masters of Archaic gems is found in a large scarab purchased by archaeologist Nikolay Kondakov from a  Kerch dealer, B. Bukzil. Engraved on it is a winged genius seated on a  horse. John Boardman named this skilled artist The  Master of the London Satyr (Boardman 1968, 51 ff).

Thus did the Hermitage collection of Archaic gems take shape. We might add also seal rings of metal such as Olbian rings with a figure of a lion (silver) or Danae (gold), a Nymphian ring with a flying Nike with a wreath (gold) etc. These well-documented pieces serve to reinforce the  earlier collection acquired mainly through purchases.

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Archaic Greek Culture: The Archaic Ionian Pottery from Berezan Richard Posamentir Within the framework of a conference on ‘Archaic Greek culture’ an article on the Archaic Ionian pottery from Berezan might, at first glance, seem a bit out of place. However, justifying such a contribution is, in fact, anything but difficult – since this conference was held in St. Petersburg, which has such extremely rich collections of Archaic Ionian pottery, housed in the Hermitage.* Moreover, part of this archaeological material came from the site of Berezan, which still holds a cardinal place among the  cities of the Black Sea shore due to the early date of the settlement’s establishment and, even more importantly, the outstanding level of preservation of its pottery1.

of identification for ethnic groups is no longer rated very highly, and rightly so. It would certainly also be possible to study Archaic Ionian pottery in Ionia itself – and indeed this has been done very successfully by a handful of scholars over the  last couple of years,3 with tremendous results, allowing us to interpret finds from the Black Sea area more precisely. But – as in related situations – it turns out to be quite informative to study a geographical-historical area and its inhabitants by taking a close look at the people who left their natural environment in order to live in someplace else, and who thus confronted problems that might not only have led to the reinforcement of a common identity, but may also have caused them either to adhere more strictly to certain traditions or to accept a greater degree of local differences among them that would have caused a problem at home.

A short glance at the relevant publications attests to this circumstance well. Reviewing the literature, such as Elena Walter-Karydi’s Samos VI, which must still be considered one of the best illustrated overviews on Archaic Ionian pottery (Walter-Karydi 1973, pls. 1–140), makes the  significance of the entire Black Sea area as a finding spot immediately apparent, despite the fact that Walter-Karydi would not have been aware of all publications printed in the Pre-Soviet and Soviet times in Russian language2 (not to mention all the different and to some extent unpublished collections in various cities and museums containing finds from numerous locations along the shore of the Black Sea). A quite amazing percentage of these finds derives from the  Northern colonies – and a great many of those are from Berezan itself. An astonishing result, considering the  rather small scale, the relatively short period of wealth and the  rather modest dwellings of the settlement of Berezan  – once most likely called Borysthenes.

In fact, there seems to be no other explanation for the  phenomenon that – despite indications that trade between North Ionian cities and pottery production centres such as Teos, Klazomenai or Smyrna and their South Ionian counterparts such as Miletos or Samos was rare in archaic times (Cook and Dupont 1998, 44; Ersoy 2000, 406) – tons of pottery from all of the Ionian cities mentioned were in simultaneous use in the Ionian colonies abroad4 and that cult institutions in both areas co-existed right next to each other.5 This most remarkable assemblage of different styles and traditions in vase painting is one of several factors contributing greatly to the importance of a site like Berezan: only there do we have the possibility of relating the development of local styles manufactured in certain production centres (Chian, Aeolian, North Ionian and South Ionian) with one another. Without such evidence we would be forced to keep on struggling with postulated time gaps (Cook and Dupont 1998, 32–106)6 and with major problems

Generally, it must be said that even though most of the 7th/6th centuries BC colonies that were established anywhere in the Black Sea Area were founded by people whose origins were in Ionia, one cannot detect more than a  faint reflection of the wealth and widespread artistic skills of the mother cities in their sculpture or architecture  – in contrast to the Athenian influence for example, which set in during the 4th century BC in this region and was probably more powerful in this respect (Bouzek 2006, 12–9; Posamentir 2006b, 20–2; 2007). In contrast however, the  Ionian origin of the settlers is reflected remarkably strongly in their pottery – even though the value of painted vessels as objects

3

See Ersoy 1994; 2000, 399–406; 2003, 254–7, Kerschner 2004, 115–48, Özer 2004, 199–219 and Paspalas 2006, 93–101 for Northern Ionia; Schlotzhauer 1999, 223–39; 2000, 407–16; 2001a; 2006, 133–44, Käufler 1999, 203–12, Ketterer 1999, 213–21, Villing 1999, 189–202, Posamentir 2002, 9–26, Kerschner and Schlotzhauer 2005, 1–56 for Southern Ionia; Iren 2002, 165–207; 2003, Kerschner 2006a, 109–26; 2007 for the Aeolian region, and Attula 2006, 85–92 for the East Dorian region. 4 This holds true for western as well as eastern or southern colonies; compare for example Kerschner 2000, 487; Schlotzhauer and Villing 2006, 53–62; Schaus 1985, pls. 18–33 or Boardman and Hayes 1966, pls. 28–39. 5 See, for example Ehrhardt 1983, 153–5 for the worship of Artemis Ephesia in the Milesian colonies Panticapaeum, Hermonassa and Gorgippia.

* I am deeply grateful to the keeper of the Berezan collection in the State Hermitage, Dr. Sergey Solovyov, for involving me in this most fascinating project and inviting me for this conference. 1 For an overview on the finds see Solovyov 1999, 28–97; most recently and concerning the Archaic Ionian pottery only : Posamentir and Solovyov 2006; 2007, and Posamentir 2006a, 159–67. 2 For references to these different contributions, especially those by L. V. Kopeikina, see Solovyov 1999, 134–44.

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Archaic Greek Culture: The Archaic Ionian Pottery from Berezan

in synchronising local features – since in many cases it still seems unclear whether differences or similarities should be put down to an intervening time span or a specific distance to the next production centre.

does the range of vessels and styles that a single place might have produced11 – because, without any doubt, successful types, such as bird or rosette bowls, were clearly copied in different places.

Yet, in addition to this most fortunate constellation, pottery found in Berezan has even more to tell us about far-reaching phenomena such as trade: it recently became possible to ascribe a high percentage of the pottery unearthed all over the ancient world to certain Ionian production centres. This allows us to ascertain which places ex- and/or imported pottery and which did not do so (Akurgal et al. 2002; Posamentir and Solovyov 2006; 2007; Schlotzhauer and Villing 2006, 53–68; Kerschner 2006a, 109–26; 2006b, 129–56). Certainly, this observation immediately gives rise to new questions: why were certain Ionian cities, such as Miletos, Teos, Klazomenai (or  the  island of Chios), so heavily involved in the Black Sea trade while others, such as Ephesos, Smyrna, Phokaia7 (or  the island of Samos), obviously were not involved, or were to only a very limited extent? Or were there centres such as Priene, Myus, Kolophon and Erythrai that have yet to be identified and remain obscured behind recent archaeometric results? And is it not actually extremely unlikely that people on Berezan imported all kinds of pottery all the way from the Ionian cities for decades without spending a thought on producing (or copying) it (or at least part of it) someplace closer to home8 or even on the peninsula itself? Why shouldn’t there have been artisans and potters among the settlers setting out to earn their living in a new and different place?9

Hopefully, the rich material from Berezan can provide new evidence to clarify such questions, but the odd mixture of material found in an Archaic pottery kiln in Klazomenai, most recently (Ersoy 2003, 254–7), should serve as a  substantial warning against simplification. Rethinking the former ascription of different Ionian vessels to certain cities on the base of stylistic analysis (Walter-Karydi 1973, 1–95) – once considered a highly useful approach – does not have to entail the repetition of a major mistake: even archaeometric results can do no more than prove that a  certain type of clay has been decorated in a certain way; potters, painters and even clay might have been more mobile than we might tend to think today. Moreover, we should not overlook the fact that producers and traders would very probably have been different people – and that traders might have had a wide range of vases to offer wherever they travelled (Johnston 1979, 236) as well. In order to find plausible answers, one has to start with a  comprehensive study of all of the material at hand – unlike the approach taken in earlier attempts that focused only on certain show pieces or specific fragments in order to support a particular view of the settlement’s development. Naturally, in such an investigation one must bear in mind the fact that, on its own, no fragment or even complete vessel can reveal much about its user or his ethnic roots, no matter how convincing its ascription to a certain production centre. Still, differences in the assemblage of pottery of Ionian mother cities (concerning the variety of shape, decoration or treatment), in particular, might be able to teach us more about the people living and trading on Berezan. Having people familiar with the pottery found in Ionia work on the pottery found on Berezan, and vice versa, in order to detect their differences is, in fact, a  visionary idea. The  differences, whose existence cannot be doubted, might otherwise have easily escaped the notice of archaeologists and been lost forever.

The various Archaic South or North Ionian (and Aeolian) pottery products are, compared with each other, definitely less characteristic than Attic, Corinthian or Chian products. In those latter products, clay or slip consistently display well known and distinctive features – and the mica content alone, occasionally regarded as proof of Milesian origin for example, will not allow us to clarify the situation.10 Moreover, not only does the number of important Ionian pottery production centres still remain uncertain, but so too 6

For a full discussion of the transition between Wild Goat and Fikellura style see Schlotzhauer 2007. 7 Pottery regarded as being produced in Phokaia (vessels of the  London Dinos group for example) has recently been moved to Kyme by Kerschner 2006a, 109–26; 2007 on the base of archaeometric analysis. Still in favour of a Phokaian origin: Iren 2002, 165–207; 2003. 8 For the localisation of a Milesian branch in the Hellespont area see Posamentir and Solovyov 2006, 113–7; 2007, 194–201; Kerschner 2006b, 148–51. 9 See already Posamentir 2006, 164–6. Casting moulds for metal objects found on Berezan island: Treister 1998, 182–8. At least one misfired table amphora in `North Ionian Style´ has been excavated by V. Nazarov on the site several years ago; the vessel is on display in the museum of Ochakiv with the inventory number AB-021213. A  copy of a Fikellura Amphora in grey clay is kept in the collection of the State Hermitage. For moulds of archaic terracotta figurines from Phanagoria, see Kuznetsov 2003, 946 figs. 11a–b. 10 Compare Voigtländer 1986, 46–52.

Drawing on what is known, common sense should tell us that the earliest pottery found on Berezan dates back no further than 630 BC,12 a conclusion which does not exactly conform with the written, but much later, sources. The pottery dated to an earlier period by various scholars consists almost entirely of vessels for which there are no close parallels or at least no published parallels – but still the  dates in question have to be revised with great care.13 Within the last decades of the 7th century BC, pottery produced in Southern Ionia, or Miletos, predominates the material at hand, while a look at the 6th century BC reveals a complete 11

The range of some of the Ionian production centres is now sketched out in Posamentir and Solovyov 2007. 12 Compare already Solovyov 1999, 29 and Posamentir 2006, 162–3, figs. 6–9. 13 See for these examples Kerschner 2006c.

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R. Pozamentir

Fig. 1. Collection of more or less identical vessels of known type found on Berezan reversal (Posamentir 2006, 160, figs.  2–4), similar to that already mentioned for the Western colonies (Kerschner 2000, 487): vessels from Northern Ionia overrun the whole market and take the leading position on Berezan as well. Certain products of Aeolian(?) origin tend to become more popular as well, but these are restricted to certain specific groups – such as the so-called London Dinos group and the black-polychrome oinochoai (Posamentir and Solovyov 2006, 106–9). Still, the material shows the  entire range of possibility of the time and in this feature Berezan stands out, not only in contrast to the mother city of Miletos, but also to North Ionian places such as Teos or Klazomenai – in neither has a comparable mixture been found.14 Obviously, places like Berezan must also have functioned as some sort of bridge-head for the  pottery trade in the Black Sea region in Archaic times – we seem justified in this notion by the unusually large quantity of more or less identical vessels of varying quality (Posamentir 2006, 163–4). Some of these vessels, found during field works over the last 50 years, are of well-known types and may be decorated delicately (Fig. 1)15 or simply (Fig. 2),16 but others of them are absolutely unknown in Ionian mother cities (Fig. 3) – for a very definite reason.17 On the other hand, the variety of different shapes is, in general, surprisingly limited

(Posamentir 2006, 163, fig. 10), which should also be put down to Berezan’s role as a point of trade. To elaborate on these general remarks, a couple of detail phenomena are going to be discussed in the following. It is wor th mentioning that in comparison with the  assemblage of pottery of Ionian mother cities some forms are missing almost completely in Berezan while others are present in higher (and unusually high) quantities. We do not find more than one of the well known Milesian one-handled drinking cups or mugs (Schlotzhauer 2006, 138–40)18 among the thousands of shreds deriving from Berezan, but on the other hand we have to deal with a  surprising number of extraordinary forms such as lydia or askoi19 (Fig. 4). Moreover, other exceptional forms such as so called ‘incense burners’ or ‘lanterns’ that E. Akurgal found in 17

These huge bowls/plates (as well as most of the plates with figural protomes) have been produced in a Milesian branch in the Hellespont area (Posamentir and Solovyov 2006, 113–7; 2007, 195–201; Kerschner 2006b, 148–51). 18 See for more modest examples Voigtländer 1982, 61, fig. 20. Voigtländer’s attribution of many pieces to Chios has to be revised to a great extent. A comprehensive study of these vessels is being prepared by U. Schlotzhauer. 19 No such askoi are listed by Ersoy 2003 for Klazomenai, even though they were most likely produced in this area. See also Hürmüzlü 2004, 87, fig. 20 for a single piece from there – similar vessels seem to be rare in other colonies such as Tocra, Kyrene or Histria, where a fair amount of East Greek pottery has been published; see Schaus 1985, pls. 18–27 or Boardman and Hayes 1966, pls. 28–39 or Alexandrescu 1978, pl. 71, 696 – at least one piece there.

14

A comparable assemblage of material is to be found in Histria (Alexandrescu 1978), but the Berezan collection exceeds the  published amount by far. 15 For plates of this kind compare the examples found in Miletos (Graeve 1987, pl. 16, 54–55). 16 Compare for example Schaus 1985, pls. 20, 348; 24, 404, or Boardman and Hayes 1973, pl. 11, 2007.

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Fig. 2. Collection of more or less identical vessels of known type found on Berezan

Fig. 3. Collection of more or less identical vessels of unknown type found on Berezan 69

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Fig. 4. A selection of askoi found on Berezan several pieces in Çandarlı and Bayraklı 20 (while another fragment had been found in Massilia: Bouiron 1999,  50), are remarkably well attested in Berezan in at least three, and perhaps even more examples (Fig. 5). If Berezan really served as some kind of trading centre a reasonable explanation for this phenomenon would be at hand: these vessels were not actually made for the settlers in Berezan but were meant to be sent to many other places from there. That suggestion may be confirmed by the presence of North Ionian table amphoras in such high numbers in Berezan that a ‘terminus technicus’ has recently been proposed for them: ‘Borysthenes-amphoras’ (Kerschner 2006b, 152, fig. 25). There is actually no other place in the ancient world where comparable vessels have been found in similar numbers – but this is an aspect that did not become clear until scholars had examined both sides – the Ionian and the Black Sea side.

application of dipinti (Fig. 6), or three times more often, graffiti (Fig.  7). Such a feature has already been well attested for other colonies (Johnston 1979, 235) and it is probably of specific interest if one tries to examine more closely the question of how the process of manufacturing, trading and, later, of using the vessel should be regarded. Taking a closer look at these marks, one can easily discern patterns that have, in case of the Berezan complex, not yet been studied comprehensively. Recognising parallels between the marks on vessels excavated in Tocra and Histria for example, A.  Johnston thought that Rhodos might be a  common source for them. 21 Nowadays we know better and the  sources are thought to be elsewhere  – specifically, in Miletos, Teos or Klazomenai. Doubtlessly a detailed study of the dipinti and graffiti might help tremendously 22 to support and, moreover, complement recent archaeometric results.

Another major difference between fragments and vessels found on Berezan and Archaic Ionian pottery (fine ware and not transport amphoras or coarse ware) found in cities like Miletos or Klazomenai, lies in the frequent

21

Johnston 1979, 237; compare also Boardman and Hayes 1966, 45, fig. 22. 22 A comprehensive study by S. R. Tokhtasev is in preparation and will be published within the frame of the Berezan-publication project; edited by S. Solovyov.

20

Akurgal 1993, fig. 90a and pl. 118: c, d – which he thought to be of Chian origin.

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Fig. 5. Incense burners or so called `lanterns´ found on Berezan, Smyrna, Bayraklı and Massilia

Fig. 6. Selection of dipinti on archaic Ionian pottery found on Berezan 71

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Fig. 7. Selection of graffiti on archaic Ionian pottery found on Berezan An amazing twenty percent of all preserved feet of East Greek decorated vases deriving from Berezan and kept in the State Hermitage of St. Petersburg feature either a  dipinto or a graffito. Taken into account the number of dipinti that may have faded away during deposition, the  statistical proportion of graffiti – which are three-times more frequent – might be misleading; however, one does register a significantly higher number of marks of both kinds compared to figures for the mother cities. Johnston suggested that traders would have painted these marks on their way, but naturally it is also possible that potters made them as a way of marking vessels ready to be shipped although the marks (as well as the graffiti) were probably added after firing (Johnston 1979, 4–5).

According to Johnston, dipinti were occasionally applied on top of graffiti (Johnston 1979, 5), but some examples from Berezan suggest that in many cases precisely the opposite was true. A comprehensive study would certainly reveal how many of those simple graffiti could be interpreted as commercial or numerical marks – but the rather large amount of smaller vases (Johnston, 1979, 237) such as jugs, cups or similar vessels featuring such marks makes the latter solution less credible. An interpretation as clumsy marks made by literate and ‘illiterate owners’ would probably be more likely. This does not hold true for another category of marks, which are nonetheless also difficult to explain: small depictions of humans 23 or animals on unusual – and normally not visible – spots on the vessel are not extremely uncommon on Attic or Corinthian vessels,24 and occasionally found on East Greek products. These ‘marks’ were definitely applied before firing and have been interpreted as insignificant drafts, sketches, caricatures or jokes – but all these explanations remain hypothetical. Two informative examples will be presented here, both originating from a  Milesian workshop without any doubt and one of which was exported to Berezan.

But unlike dipinti, which can normally (including on Berezan) be found on the lower side of the foot of decorated vases, graffiti appear in a number of different places  – these simple marks (dedicatory and literal ownership advertisements excluded) are sometimes definitely what Johnston called fittingly “ill-positioned” (Johnston 1979, 4–5). The red painted dipinti may well be commercial marks, the commonly accepted view (Johnston 1979, 5,  235), but can those simple graffiti of non-alphabetic shape really have been made by “illiterate traders” (Johnston 1979, 2)? It does not seem very likely that traders would scratch their symbols on the inside of a cup or the outer wall of a vessel, and perhaps risk reducing the value of the traded product by doing so.

The fragment that remained in Miletos belonged to a  late 7th century BC lid. On the lid’s inner side is the  head 23 24

72

Compare for example Schlotzhauer 1999, 229, fig. 18. See Greifenhagen 1971, 80–102 or Schauenburg 1971, 162–78.

Archaic Greek Culture: The Archaic Ionian Pottery from Berezan

of one of the well known Milesian ‘wild goats’ – but atop a rather strange body (Fig. 8) that eludes the grasp of iconography. The piece that was shipped to Berezan once formed a  stemmed plate dating from approximately the  same time and bears on its lower side the head of a  ram (Fig.  9). While goats are among the animals most frequently depicted on comparable vessels of the 7th  century BC, rams do not play even a minor role – which makes the explanation that these ‘marks’ were drafts or simple sketches rather unlikely. On one hand, the goat, with its strange body (front or profile?), probably fulfils all the  required

criteria necessary to be considered as a joke on the part of a vase painter25 – while the ram might possibly be interpreted as a meaningful symbol, connected with cults that existed in Miletos. In fact, votive reliefs found on Zeytıntepe show peculiar depictions of a ram (Senff 1992, 108, pl.  17: 1). Surprisingly, similar markings have not been detected on pottery originating from the North Ionian area yet, which leads us to another interesting phenomenon that has to be addressed when dealing with the Archaic Ionian pottery from Berezan. As already stated, the pottery from this colony is of outstanding importance for the possible correlation of local Ionian styles and craftsmen traditions  – but, as it happens, things are by far more complicated than one might have hoped. To begin with, a plausible explanation should be found for the fact that transitional or bilingual pieces of the  North Ionian area (between Wild Goat and Black Figure or ‘Corinthianizing’ style) are widespread and well attested in Berezan (Fig. 10) and in many other places26 while examples of the contemporary or slightly earlier transition in South Ionia (Wild Goat to Fikellura style: Schlotzhauer 2001b, 119–22; 2006, 135–7; 2007) are almost entirely concentrated within the South Ionian and the Carian region. Moreover, recent pottery analysis seems to indicate that distinct lines separating Aeolia, North Ionia and South Ionia can be drawn only to a limited extent. Examples of characteristic North Ionian ‘maeander rim plates’ can be found within several North Ionian groups and in the  assemblage of Aeolian vessels (Posamentir and Solovyov 2007, 187–94) as well – and the same holds true for a few pieces of typical North Ionian Rosette bowls and table (or Borysthenes-) amphoras (Kerschner 2006b, 140–6). A  rather peculiar crater (now known as of Aeolian origin) in a mixed style had already indicated earlier, that surprises have to be expected (Posamentir and Solovyov 2006, 108–10, fig.  4). Unless chemical analysis supporting the attribution of Kyme as an important production centre (Kerschner 2006b, 109–19; Kerschner and Mommsen 2007) are entirely wrong or have been, at least, falsely interpreted, we would have to bear in mind the possibility of exchange of certain stylistic elements (and craftsmen) between at least two ‘territories’  – although the fact that typical vessels of these or other Aeolian production centres (Iren 2003) have obviously never been exported seems somehow to be more than peculiar. One thought that might simplify things again would be to assume that cities such as Kyme and Phokaia might have (at least to an extent) used the same clay deposits  – if that were true, then all the aforementioned examples would have been produced in Phokaia and therefore still be of North

Fig. 8. Inside of lid found in Miletos with depiction of standing(?) goat

25

Compare the inside of a Corinthian lid: Shoe 1932, 73, fig.  17. 26 Compare vessels like Walter-Karydi 1973, nos. 899–901, 907, 908, 918, 938, 939, 941, 952, 953, 1012, 1015, 1016; Akurgal 1993, pl. 7. For the vessel from Berezan already see Kopeikina 1970, 96–9.

Fig. 9. Lower side of plate found in Berezan with depiction of a ram’s head 73

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pl. 16b; Croissant 1983, pls. 51–57)29 for example, one might in fact detect in the surprisingly realistic and lively way of modelling the human appearance a characteristic touch – in contrast to the high quality but supernatural and more stylistic approach of South Ionian artisans (FreyerSchauenburg 1974, pls. 9–10; Fuchs and Floren 1987, pls. 30: 2–3, 32: 4–5, 33: 2–3; Akurgal 1961, pls. 201–204, 221–225; 1987, pl. 15; Croissant 1983, pl. 1.7). One might even tend to find a similar vibrancy in the decorated vases of that period – but things are definitely not that easy and developments not that coherent. Artisans and craftsmen in cities of Northern Ionia in particular seem to react repeatedly and strongly to impulses from other areas and the process of copying is probably accompanied by some kind of transformation – obscuring the stylistic approach. In vase painting the ‘Wild Goat style’ was probably adopted from the South and for a long time misunderstood as ‘Late Wild Goat style’; the transition from ‘Wild Goat’ to vases in ‘Fikellura (black figure) style’ is executed equally in the Northern cities, but models from Corinthia played a more decisive role at first, while later on, Attic black figure style becomes the driving force for potters and painters working in Klazomenai (and most likely Teos). Reasons for the temporary acceptance of certain patterns are probably to be found in political, economic or at least other rationally understandable constellations  – not in the land itself.

Fig. 10. Transitional style of North Ionian pottery: from `Wild Goat´ to black figure (Corinthianizing) style Ionian origin, but further analysis must be performed to support such a  conclusion. However, taking into account other archaeometric results, it is in fact much more likely that we should expect so called ‘transitional spheres’ – and not only between Aeolia and North Ionia: the existence of a Milesian branch, producing Milesian vessels in the Hellespont-area (probably in Abydos) with local clay, has already been proven (Posamentir and Solovyov 2006, 113–7; 2007, 194–201; Kerschner 2006b, 148–51). Since much more pottery in North Ionian style has been found on Berezan, it would be more than tempting to postulate a similar phenomenon for the North Ionian region  – a workshop with potters and painters from one or several North Ionian cities might have acted upon the same idea in order to be closer to the Black Sea trade and market. Possible and logical options would be the area around Byzantion/Kalchedon (maybe also Chrysopolis); mostly Megarian foundations we know practically nothing about or one of the Black Sea colonies itself. To date, some, but only scarce, traces (Posamentir and Solovyov 2006, 124–5; 2007, 180–3; Kerschner 2006b, 151–4) seem to support the  supposition of such a constellation.

Obviously, all these new questions and ‘obstacles’ will make it even harder to understand the ‘Berezan phenomenon’  – but still, we have to be more than content: the site offers an enormous amount of information in every aspect and following the publication of the planned five volumes dedicated to the various finds kept in the  State Hermitage, it will become an important source of reference for the Black Sea area and as well for the rest of the  Ionian world.

In general, one has to raise the question of whether it  will remain possible to talk about Archaic Ionian pottery in terms of ‘North Ionian’, ‘South Ionian’ or ‘Aeolian’. Although we do seem to be able to divide North Ionian from South Ionian sculpture (Kyrieleis 2000, 265–74; Langlotz 1927), terracotta27 or vase painting, it will become more and more tricky to combine style or tradition with a  specific – though at the same time metaphysical – region. 28 Doubtlessly, selected features seem to be typical for certain areas and we might be even able to articulate them, but the  reasons behind this tentative distinction tend to be rather trivial in most cases. Looking at North Ionian Korai and faces (Akurgal 1961, pls. 206, 212–213; 1987, pls. 76–77; 1993, 27 28

29

See also Fuchs and Floren 1987, pl. 35: 2, for the famous kore of Erythrai, or Akurgal 1993, pls. 18, 19, for the head from Smyrna.

See the attempts undertaken by Croissant 1983. Compare Raeder 1993, 105–9.

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Black-Figure on the Black Sea: Art and Visual Culture at Berezan* Tyler Jo Smith For John Boardman Vase-painting has much to contribute to our knowledge of the visual culture of ancient Greece. For the Archaic period in particular, black-figure vases provide some of the best available iconographic evidence (at least in terms of quantity). Once a full black-figure technique emerges in Athens during the early 6th century BC, many vase-painters devote themselves to human figure scenes.1 The ubiquitous animals of the previous century’s Orientalising style lag for several decades, mainly in subsidiary friezes. In the work of the black-figure masters in Athens – from Sophilos and Kleitias to Lydos, the Amasis Painter and Exekias – “figure decoration ranges from the miniaturist to the monumental” (Boardman 2001a, 61). The subjects include mythological scenes, some more clearly narrative than others, religion and ritual, as well as portrayals of more mundane human life: drinking and dancing, riding and exercising. Shapes and their functions play an important role too, though the space available for decoration both dictates and limits artistic possibilities. Such choices on the part of painter and potter, or indeed any aesthetic, conventional or commercial reasons for them, are not our concern here.2 Nor does it seem necessary to revisit Beazley, his attributions or his critics.3 Rather we shall focus our attention on a group of vases decorated by a number of different hands, on a good range of shapes. Each specimen, be it whole pot or shred, represents the same technique, region of production, and archaeological provenance.4

the Hermitage during summer 2005, and connected with the 120th anniversary of archaeological excavations on the island (Solovyov 2005). This paper takes a closer look at the iconography of the  Athenian black-figure vases from Berezan. Elsewhere the  objects have been presented and discussed by shape, to some extent by painters, and for what they reveal about settlement, trade and colonisation (Gorbunova 1973; 1982; Kopeikina 1986; Bouzek 1990, 45–7; Boardman 1999, 225–66, esp. 250; Smith 2009). However, as an assemblage of ancient pottery, representing a single technique, and yielding from the same site, it is thought that their decoration might provide a certain amount of cultural insight. What, if  anything, might ‘simple visual observation’ of the surface images themselves reveal about their makers, importers, buyers, users, or viewers (Orton et al. 1993, 26)? Is their an Archaic visual culture lurking behind our black-figure depictions of satyrs or gorgons, athletes or warriors? Due to the rather ragged state of the evidence, the discussion here is divided thematically. Rather than presenting the images chronologically or by attributed painters, we shall instead address three iconographic categories: animals and monsters, gods and heroes, men and women. The inherent problems and limitations of such an approach (i.e. inevitable overlap) should be kept constantly in mind, as should the reliability of using pot shreds as iconographic evidence (Orton et al. 1993, 32–3, 227–8). With regard to visual culture theory, it might have been more appropriate to focus on everyday life; however, the nature of the extant evidence necessitates a slightly broader definition of the term.6 That being said, the black-figure technique of the early 6th century was something of a ‘new visual medium’ in Athens (Mirzoeff 1998, 48), invented by Corinth artists, then spreading to other pottery producing areas favouring figure-decorated vessels; considered in this manner, black-figure iconography becomes a suitable candidate for this sort of inquiry. What follows is a brief summary of some of the more informative and best-preserved images. A certain amount of attention is devoted to pieces attributed to known Athenian black-figure painters, and to those where the subject and decoration best demonstrate Archaic style.7

Excavations on the island of Berezan in the northwest Black Sea region have unearthed examples of Athenian (or Attic) black-figure imports, manufactured throughout the 6th century BC. Over 230 whole pots and shreds have recently been catalogued and studied, and will be published in the  second volume of the Berezan final excavation reports (Smith 2009). Other figure-decorated wares, including Corinthian, East Greek and Athenian red-figure, have also been discovered at the site, and will appear as part of the same publication.5 A number of these finds were displayed as part of the exhibition entitled ‘Borysthenes-Berezan’ at *

Thanks are extended to the following for help of various kinds with this paper: Malcolm Bell III, Carmen Higginbotham, Ian Jenkins, Gillian Shepherd, Sergey Solovyov and Dyfri Williams. 1 Beazley 1986, 1–2, on the invention of black-figure. 2 See e.g. Boardman 1974, 196–200; and Osborne 1998, 95–9. 3 In general see Rouet 2001; and Whitley 2001, 36–41. 4 The exact archaeological find spot at Berezan has not been recorded for each piece, but publications indicate that some served as burial offerings; see Solovyov 1999, 25–6, 80–4; Gorbunova 1982 (for  sector G); cf. Damianov 2005, 83–90, on burial rites from the  site, and problems of interpretation. Solovyov has described some as ‘tableware’ (1999, 88). 5 See Ilyina 2001; Solovyov 1999, 49–52; and Shapiro 2009.

Animals and Monsters

Animals and monsters in black-figure vase-painting, initially associated with the Orientalising phase of Greek art, continue to appear in Archaic times. Although the  Corinthian and East Greek artists show the greatest 6

In general see Mirzoeff 1998, and esp. 8–10, for the connection with everyday life. 7 For the sake of clarity and convenience, the Hermitage inventory numbers are given for each object. Comparanda and a complete set of illustrations appear elsewhere (Smith 2009).

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enthusiasm for multiple friezes of parading animals, as in the example of the Wild Goat Style, a number of early Athenian vase-painters, such as the Gorgon Painter and Sophilos, choose animals for decoration on large or small scale, or both. Monsters and hybrid creatures find their place as well, inserted into mythological stories – as on the Nessos Painter’s name vase8 – or inserted less conspicuously into animal friezes. It has recently been suggested that myths involving monstrous creatures, such as griffins and centaurs, and their associated images, may have been inspired, at least in part, by ancient discoveries of the bones of longextinct animal species.9

collars highlighted in added red, found on either sides of a pair of shallow skyphoi dated to the early 5th  century BC (B90.82, 83). As we have seen, imaginary creatures, namely sphinxes and sirens appear alongside real animals. A Deianeira lekythos (B83; Solovyov 2005, no. 155), assigned to the  Black-neck class, displays an elegant, if faceless, pair of confronting sphinxes, a subject again visible on a  Heron Class skyphos (B63.204). A siren and a bird adorn a  patterned cup (B90.77), a relative of the Cassel type (Solovyov 1999, fig. 85), and gorgoniea expectedly embellish several cup tondos (i.e. B82.127; Solovyov 1999, fig.  83.2) and both sides of a cup-skyphos of ca. 540– 520  BC (B68.81; Gorbunova 1982, 47, fig. 9). However, on most extant examples from the Berezan excavations, where monsters or hybrids are featured in black-figure, we find the creatures inserted into easily identifiable mythological stories where they took part. An obvious example is the  Centauromachy depicted on a lip-cup attributed to the  Centaur Painter (B482; Fig. 5) (Gorbunova 1982, 40, fig. 3a).12 Perhaps the  most impressive is the skyphos with three fleeing gorgons in short belted chitons decorating both sides (B84.139; Fig. 1a–b) (Solovyov 1999, fig. 82), a clear reference to the Perseus myth. One of the three is Medusa, headless and falling, but no hero is present. A similar skyphos has been discovered at Morgantina in central Sicily, where again Perseus is conspicuously absent (Allen 1970, 381, pl. 97, fig. 32). On another skyphos from Berezan (B76.178; Fig. 6a–b), one side displays a large bearded Triton between two Nereids, while on the other Herakles and Nereus are wrestling. The  quality of the  painting is very low, and some aspects of the iconography remain enigmatic. On the Herakles side, two females stand on either side of a laver or large mortar, while an athlete or dancer moves away from the scene. The  lack of comparative evidence makes the scene difficult to read, and it may represent nothing more than a somewhat random display of decorative elements.13 The iconography bears some relation to scenes of Perseus attacking a sea-creature, the  ketos.14 An isolated Pegasus makes an appearance in the tondo of a stemless cup (B73.210; Fig. 7), and we may conjecture that again the bigger myth involving Perseus is here heavily abbreviated.15

Among the Athenian black-figure finds from Berezan the  animal-style is well-represented. On a large scale, grazing goats and birds appear on the sides of several column-kraters, at least two of which have been attributed to the Manner of Lydos (B87.49; B87.317). The handleplates, where preserved, are decorated with birds and in one case a sphinx (B85.89; Solovyov 1999, fig. 36). Some years ago Skudnova attributed the large fragment of a stand decorated with animal friezes to Sophilos (B114; Skudnova 1957: 49), and a second set of stand fragments of similar style and decoration (B82.106) has been identified as belonging to the same painter.10 On the second example, which is much better-preserved, ordinary felines (and possibly a  bull) share the decorated space with sirens and sphinxes. Expectedly, animal friezes adorn lekanides, one likely the  work of the  Polos Painter (B89.115), as well as amphorae attributed to the  workshops of the Gorgon Painter (B447) and the  Painter of London B76 (B74.152; Kopeikina 1986, 38, no. 19). Also worthy of mention are several horse-head amphorae, datable to the first quarter of the  century, whose primary function may have been as prizes (Boardman 1974, 17–8; Kreuzer 1998, 96–7). Swimming dolphins appear on fragmentary cups (B70.152, B76.203; with parallels from Histria and Smyrna respectively), again beneath the  handle of the  gorgon skyphos yet to be discussed (B84.139; Fig.  1a‑b), and as a  delightful pairing on a lid or disc considered by Gorbunova to belong to the circle of Exekias (B67.123; Fig.  2) (Gorbunova 1982, 42, fig. 4). Animals in groups large and small are not surprisingly represented on the exteriors of many Little Master cups. Iconographic combinations known from elsewhere, such as cock and hen, panther and fawn, birds and rams (e.g. B90.67; Fig. 3) (Solovyov 1999, fig. 81), are found here on both band- and lip-cups. A pair of lions sharing the scene with at least one grazing dear on a fragmentary band-cup (B79.102; Fig. 4) is no doubt related to the work of the  mannerist painter Elbows Out.11 Belonging to the domestic realm are the dogs, clearly pets wearing

Gods and Heroes

Mythological scenes portraying the lives and exploits of the gods and heroes are well-attested in Athenian black-figure, and indeed in much of Greek vase-painting. The vases have been variously interpreted and discussed. Some scholars have approached the images for their real 12

P. Heesen (Amsterdam) is responsible for the attribution. The recent suggestion of a cultic occasion may be relevant here: Neils 2004. See also Boardman 1974, 213. 14 For the myth in ancient art see Carpenter 1991, 106; and LIMC  7, ‘Perseus’, nos. 186–202, esp. no. 188, a Caeretan hydria with a  similar scene. 15 For depictions of Pegasus alone or in no particular setting see LIMC 7, ‘Pegasos’, 215–8. See also Boardman 1974, 227; and Carpenter 1991, 108.

8

13

Athens NM 1002. See Boardman 1974, fig. 5; Beazley 1986, 14–5. 9 Mayor 2000, followed by Boardman 2002c, 33–43. 10 For the same combination of shape and decoration in works of this painter see ABV 40.22, and 42.1; and Beazley 1986, 16. 11 See ABV 250–2, for his band-cups, many of which have animal themes.

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Fig. 1. a–b: Skyphos with gorgons (B84.139)

Fig. 2. Lid or disc with dolphins (B67.123)

Fig. 3. Little Master Cup with animals (B90.67) 77

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Fig. 4. Band-cup, manner of Elbows Out (B79.102)

Fig. 5. Lip-cup, by the Centaur Painter (B482)

Fig. 6. a–b: Skyphos with Triton, Nereids, Herakles (B76.178) 78

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Painter (B85.118), a figure who might be Athena appears alongside a charioteer; the  identical scene is found on a lekythos in the British Museum (83.11–24.17) in the manner of the same painter (ABV 543.125), and in both cases we may detect a reference to the Panathenaic games. Hermes with his winged boots is identified on the  fragment of a column-krater (B76.220) and again on the shoulder of a fragmentary hydria (B68.71). The one divinity represented with frequency in Athenian black-figure is Dionysos. The god of wine and drama, sometimes in the presence of satyrs and maenads, is found on several examples from Berezan. Dionysian and related iconography survives in greater numbers than any other mythological subject matter. However, as with the  other vases discussed thus far, the evidence remains in a fragmentary state, and the contents of a larger myth or narrative, if either was intended, are lost to us now. The god and his followers are not surprisingly a theme of choice for many cup painters working primarily in the  second half of the  6th  century. The types include Little Masters, eye-cups and skyphoi. Several band-cups depict frolicking satyrs, some ithyphallic, engaged in their favourite activities of dancing with maenads (B72.119) or sexually pursuing animals (B76.429, B70.157). The satyrs are at times shown frontally, in a manner which emphasises their more animalistic nature;18 such is the case on the  fragment of a  band-cup (B63.195) and again on the  tondo of a  stemless cup (B76.177; Fig.  8), where the hybrid creature is expressly ithyphallic. The  god himself may also be present wielding his signature drinking-horn (B86.92, B71.159, B83.95). Skyphoi painters provide a similar range of scenes on the  extant vases: satyrs dancing, with or without their female counterparts (B77.112, B89.134, B63.206, B87.78), Dionysos and a satyr confronting (B68.77). Satyrs without Dionysos are seen on two skyphoi in slightly more complicated compositions. The  first is a  Heron Class skyphos (B80.209; Fig. 9) attributed to the Theseus Painter by Ilyina (1987,  31–3). On either side a  satyr plays a lyre while maenads draped in animal skins and turbans play krotala. The subject occurs elsewhere by the same painter (e.g. ABV 520.22), and his repertoire of scenes related to Dionysian ritual has been noted by Borgers (1999, 88). On an unattributed Heron Class skyphos, again satyrs are musicians in a processional setting. On this occasion their instrument is the double-pipes, and on each side the satyr is in the company of a  winged female figure, a charioteer and a lyre-player. The  quality of the painting is not as high as in the previous example by the Theseus Painter, and here the  iconography may have quite a different meaning. The  winged figure sometimes joining satyrs is Iris, and the  subject has been associated with a lost satyr-play by Achaios dated to the  second half of the 5th century.19 More than once Dionysos is shown as a dancer, either solo between eyes on the exterior of a  cup (B90.75; Fig.  10) (Solovyov 1999, fig. 84), or in the  company of draped

Fig. 7. Cup tondo with Pegasus (B73.210) or assumed relationship to ancient poetry, most notably epic, lyric and drama (Schefold 1978; Shapiro 1994). Others have preferred analysing the scenes for their contribution as ‘narrative art’ (Snodgrass 1987, 132–69; Himmelmann 1998, 67–102; Stansbury-O’Donnell 1999). Politics and cult have enjoyed their place in the arguments as well, with a certain amount of attention lavished on the tyrant Peisistratids and the hero Herakles (Boardman 2001a, 202–9; Shapiro 1989). To this list might be added a continuous flow of publications on the iconography of the Trojan Cycle, Dionysos and his retinue, and classical archaeology’s somewhat delayed love affair with ‘others’, among them non-Greek Scythians and Thracians.16 In the  midst of these constructions and deconstructions it is worth placing our evidence into an  appropriate, if less-than-trendy context. As John Boardman (1974, 216) has accurately observed: “The Olympian deities are seen very frequently on blackfigure vases: not often as protagonists in myth, but as supporting figures to heroes or in their own right with no action involved”. On the Athenian black-figure vases from Berezan both gods and heroes are present. The fragmentary state of many scenes makes identification of the story or setting impossible. Attributes and, in a few cases, inscriptions provide much needed help, as recently summarised by Woodford (2003, 15–20). Athena, Apollo and Hermes each appear in uncertain or incomplete settings. Athena armed with her spear and helmet faces a lyre-player, who may well be Apollo, on the side of an olpe (B85.93). In scenes of the birth of Athena, Apollo is sometimes portrayed playing the same instrument.17 On a small lekythos attributed to the  manner of the Haimon

18

Johns 1989, 90 –2, for the range and meaning of such scenes. 19 See LIMC 5, ‘Iris I’, 751 for play, and nos. 105–9 for blackfigure depictions.

16

Hedreen 1992; 2001; Isler-Kerényi 2001; Cohen 2000, each with bibliography. 17 Cf. LIMC 2, ‘Athena’, nos. 367–8.

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Fig. 8. Cup tondo with satyr (B76.177)

Fig. 9. Skyphos by Theseus Painter (B80.209)

Fig. 10. Cup with Dionysos dancing (B90.75) 80

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females on a lekythos (B89.111; Fig. 11) (Solovyov 1999, fig. 72). Depictions of the  god as dancer are not terribly common in vase-painting, but are attested in ancient literature (ThesCRA 2, ‘Dance’, 332–3). More than once Dionysos appears in exclusive female company, and his companion may well be Ariadne. On a  fragmentary late black-figure cup (B68.76), the male and female couple reclines beneath vines, and dolphins swim beneath the handles. The cup has been attributed to the  late black-figure Leafless Group, whose painters, while not the  most accomplished, are at ease with Dionysian themes (Boardman 1974, 150–1).

(B71.183; Fig. 13). The helmeted heads of the fighting pair are visible, and one plunges his upraised sword towards the chest of the other. The only clue to their identity is the somewhat enigmatic inscription which reads ‘menonos’. It is not uncommon for the names of the figures to be included in the scene, though ours is clearly not a standard spelling.22 It is also possible that one of the figures is meant to be Menelaus engaged in a fight with Paris or Hector, episodes also known from black-figure vase-painting.23 Herakles and Theseus, heroes often associated with Athens and mainland Greece, are easily identified on several vases from Berezan. In the best preserved examples the  heroes participate in dangerous exploits. Theseus struggles with the bull of Marathon on the side of an  oinochoe dated to the late 6th/early 5th century (B320; Fig. 14). The story is found on a number of examples in black-figure vase-painting and occasionally on the same shape.24 The date of the vase is consistent with an increase in the hero’s iconographic popularity in Athens (Carpenter 1991, 160), and there is no reason to assume it has special significance at Berezan. Herakles is seen on at least four vases from Berezan. On two of the four he  fights the  Nemean lion – once on an  unattributed band-cup (B71.173; Fig. 15), with females looking on, and again on a lekythos belonging to the Class of Athens 581, where Athena is present (B80). The wrestling match between Herakles and the Triton, Nereus, decorating a skyphos (B76.178; Fig. 6a–b) has been mentioned above in our discussion of animals and monsters. The lion-skin clad hero’s name is inscribed on a fragmentary hydria (B68.71), also mentioned above, but the scene is not preserved in full. Herakles’ aggressive posture suggests he might be performing a labour, or perhaps attacking Nessos with a  sword (Carpenter 1991, 132). Finally, a pair of youthful males armed with spears, standing beside their horses, may well be the Dioskouroi (B69.157; Fig. 16). The identical scene appears on both sides of an eye-cup, attributed to the Group of Courting cups (ca. 530), and was published previously by Gorbunova (1982, 46, fig. 8). The heavenly twin sons of Zeus are shown in much the same way in the examples of vase-painting as well as in other arts of other periods.25

Fig. 11. Lekythos with Dionysos dancing (B89.111) Heroic iconography is somewhat prevalent in Athenian black-figure from Berezan. Some examples are clearly related to the Trojan Cycle, such as the recovery of Helen, appearing on the fragments of a large krater (B63.179–180; Fig. 12 a–b).20 Here females in elaborately decorated garments are joined by a draped, beardless male, an armed warrior (Menelaus), and a veiled female (Helen). The females in the scene are an unusual addition, as such extra figures are normally males, either armed or unarmed.21 The  duel between Achilles and Memnon might be the subject of a  fragmentary olpe from the end of the  6th century

Other mythological figures, though neither gods nor heroes, deserve comment. The Centauromachy is the chosen subject on a Little Master lip-cup attributed to the Centaur Painter already mentioned (B482; Fig. 5). It should be added that other cups discovered at Berezan, of the same shape and type, are thought to be the work of the same painter. The Amazonomachy is depicted on several known vases in Athenian black-figure from Berezan. The first decorates the tondo of a Siana cup (B348) attributed to the C Painter by Skudnova (1955, 36), though the armed female grabbing another figure by the helmet could in

I owe the suggestion to Alan Shapiro. In general see LIMC  4, ‘Helene’, nos. 210–24. 21 In red-figure Aphrodite is sometimes included; LIMC  4, ‘Helene’, nos. 243–4, 248, 251. See also a red-figure skyphos in Boston (MFA 13.186) attributed to Makron, for additional female figures: Boardman 1975, fig. 308. 20

22

For examples on black- and red-figure vases see Immerwahr 1990, nos. 138 (‘epic form’) and 348. 23 LIMC 8, ‘Menelaos’, nos. 12–15 (Paris), 22 (Hector). 24 Cf. CVA Munich 12 (65), pl. 43.1–2 (no. 1779). 25 LIMC 3, ‘Dioskouroi’, 26–49, for similar scenes.

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Fig. 12. a–b: Krater fragments, Recovery of Helen (B63.179–180)

Fig. 13. Olpe with Achilles and Memnon(?) (B71.183) 82

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Fig. 14. Oinochoe with Theseus and Marathon Bull (B320)

Fig. 15. Band-cup with Herakles and Lion (B71.173)

Fig. 16. Cup with Dioskouroi(?) (B69.157) 83

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fact be Athena at the Gigantomachy.26 Fighting amazons emerge again on  the  fragment of a band-cup (B302), and perhaps again on a later black-figure cup of the Leafless Group (B77.111). Of obvious local significance is the scene of Scythians at war on a fragmentary ‘overlap’ Siana cup (B78.97) originally said by Skudnova to be the  hand of the  C  Painter (1955,  36). Europa riding the bull, though not fully preserved, is easily recognized on the body fragments of a closed vessel (B90.48), perhaps an amphora or hydria. The skyphoi representing scenes of fleeing gorgons (Fig.  1a–b) and lively Nereids (Fig. 6a–b) have been noted above.

setting somewhat difficult in many instances. The  stock subjects associated with Archaic iconography are represented here in the form of duels, riders, athletes and processions. Whether such images portray a Homeric or at least mythical world is not the issue here. However, such an interpretation for the scenes should not be totally dismissed (Boardman 1974, 205). An armed warrior decorating the  tondo of a  Siana cup attributed to the C Painter (B332; Brijder 1983, no. 77, pl. 18g), or a departing warrior between two youthful friends on a fragmentary amphora, the work of the Painter of Louvre F6 (B74.153; Fig. 17), each exemplify the problem. The multi-figure compositions displaying chariot processions, such as one on the fragment of a large lip-cup attributed to the Painter of Louvre F81 (B77.125;

Men and Women

Scenes of daily life in Greek vase-painting have  received a certain amount of attention in recent years. The  category is somewhat ambiguous embracing virtually all nonmythological aspects of ancient Greek culture. Even the  Greek gods have been the subject of such intellectual scrutiny (Sissa and Detienne 2000). In his publication Everyday Life in Classical Athens, T. B. L. Webster (1969) incorporated visual and material evidence in his discussions of life both inside and outside the home. The much more recent book of Robert Garland, Daily Life of the Ancient Greeks (1998), while covering a wider range of times and places, relies on vase-painting surprisingly little. There is little doubt that Athenian black- and red-figure vases, as well as some produced outside, are an excellent source of information about warriors and workers, athletes and musicians, even children. Aspects of religious life, including festivals and their associated activities (sacrifice, procession, etc.) are subjects found suitable for vase decoration, as well as the related themes of weddings and funerals. Not surprisingly, scholars have used Greek vases a great deal in discussions of sexuality and gender, ethnicity and class, dress and performance. The relationship between art and society, and documented ‘social rituals’ – most notably the symposion – have claimed the interest of classicists, archaeologists and cultural historians.27 Museums have also embraced the idea of thematic displays of the past with particular attention to daily life as witnessed through visual and material evidence (Jenkins 1986). Although consideration of mythological figures has historically been far greater than that given to everyday people, it is arguable that portrayals of drinking, dining and dancing have far more to contribute to our discussion of Archaic visual culture. Such scenes of contemporary life – regardless of the artistic conventions employed in their production or the  difficulties of iconographic interpretation – are certainly amongst the  best ways of encountering ancient Greek men and women in their ‘modern’ setting.

Fig. 17. Amphora with departing warrior, Painter of Louvre F6 (B74.153)

The scenes of daily life in Athenian black-figure from Berezan are far too numerous to discuss in detail. The  ambiguous nature of many, combined with their fragmentary condition, makes identification of activity or

Fig. 18) (Solovyov 1999, 89, fig. 80), while far more complicated, remain impossible to relate to an actual event, be it  legendary or contemporary.28. Similarly, the  miniature rowers on the  inside rim of a large open vessel (B78.124) are too poorly preserved to be attributed to a  specific

LIMC 2, ‘Athena’, nos. 381–6, for the subject in black-figure. See in particular: Bérard et al. 1989; Murray 1990; Lissarrague 1990; and Davidson 1998. 26 27

28

I thank P. Heesen (Amsterdam) for the attribution. On the  painter see ABV 191.3.

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Fig. 18. Lip-cup, by the Painter of Louvre F81 (B77.125) painter, group or occasion, but easily relate to the known repertoire.29

cup (B77.120) considered by Brijder to be the work of the  C  Painter (Brijder 2000, Add. no. 37, pl. 718), and the  wrestlers under the watchful eyes of their trainers on a pair of band-cups (B70.147; B80.27, 88).

On a number of vase fragments, male figures are either bearded or beardless, dressed or undressed, and in no particular setting. Worth mentioning is the nude male ‘runner’ facing a draped male on at least two lekythoi assigned to the Fat-runner Group and dated to ca. 530  BC (e.g. B87.41; Fig. 19).30 Little Master cups are another

suitable venue for this sort of abbreviated, even decorative, scheme. Such is the case on the fragments of a band-cup (B69.151) where again two males, one nude, the other with cloak and spear, are given no further attributes or context. On another cup (B70.146), this one attributed to the Circle of Hermogenes by Gorbunova (1982, 41, fig. 3b), a non-descript draped male and a bird meet face to face. On some vases, the male figures are obviously athletes in training or competition. To the current discussion should be added the boxers on the fragments of an overlap Siana

One of the best represented areas of daily life in Athenian black-figure iconography from Berezan is in the realm of male entertainment, namely the symposion. Scenes of homosexual courtship, erotic encounters between men and women, and revelling, are identified amongst the surviving examples. Courtship iconography is found, not surprisingly, on two cups attributes to the Group of Courting Cups of ca. 530 BC (B69.157; B82.127; Fig.  20). Although both examples are not fully preserved, it is clear that the standard iconography of the ‘lover’ (erastes) and the  ‘beloved’ (eromenos) is portrayed.31 The theme is repeated on the  fragment of a late 6th century skyphos (B89.127), where we discover a boy holding a white cock, a standard love-gift (Johns 1989, 101). Heterosexual love-making in miniature decorates at least one side of a  band-cup (B76.383), and should perhaps be imagined as an advanced stage of the  symposion. The symposion itself is only identifiable with certainty on a late blackfigure lekythos belonging to the Haimon Group (B79). The quality is of the low standard associated with the  group and assigned date, however a recliner on a couch can be recognised in the company of standing and seated women. Another possible version of erotic iconography deserves mention. On the body and rim fragments of a band-cup, a beardless nude male strikes another with a sandal (B68.85). This sort of ‘slippering’ is perhaps best known from the name vase of the Sandal Painter (Bologna PU 204; Boardman 1974, fig. 43), and has been related to either sexual arousal or chastisement.32

29

31

Fig. 19. Lekythos, the Fat-runner Group (B87.41)

Cf. Boardman 1974, fig. 183; and see Shapiro 1981. The Archaic images to date are listed in Boardman 1976, 286–7.

Brownlee 1997, 517–9, discusses the meaning of such scenes in relation to the symposion. 30 Cf. ABV 459–69.

32

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Fig. 20. Eye-cup, Group of Courting Cups (B82.127) Images of male revellers, commonly referred to as ‘komasts’ are identified on at least 18 Athenian black-figure cups and other shapes. Nine of these are on Komast cups attributed to the Komast Group, and two more decorate column-kraters belonging to the same group (B62.43, B444; Gorbunova 1982, 37, fig. b); most appear to be the hand of the KY Painter (e.g. B88.38; B73.245). Gorbunova attributes a fragmentary cup to the Manner of the KX  Painter (B66.88; Fig. 21) (Gorbunova 1982, 37, fig.  1a), but Brijder

on East Greek wares.33 On the Athenian examples, we find the  dancers on Little Master cups (B70.153; B72.122), both band- and lip- , and each time the dancer is a nude male. On a  CHC  Group skyphos (ca.  500 BC) and on another attributed to the  Haimon Group of similar date the dancers are again nude males in no particular setting (B87.77; B88.39; Solovyov 1999, 92, fig. 88). Other examples from the mid-late part of the century include an  amphora attributed to the Group of Vatican G52 (B82), though here the nude male in the company of a draped one may be a  runner, and the lower part of a dancer on the  body fragment of a closed vessel (B72.134). Scenes of women’s lives are far less common at Berezan, and in Archaic art in general. The female head between eyes on one side of a type A cup was attributed by Beazley to the Logie Painter (ABV 203.3), but the significance of the iconography remains uncertain.34 From Berezan we find at least three possible depictions of weddings. The  kitharaplayer performing on the fragment of a large dinos or krater (B74.144; Fig. 22), and again on an amphora from the third quarter of the 6th century BC (B70.140), may indicate we are in the presence of divine or at least mythological participants (ThesCRA 1, ‘processions’, 1–2, 9–10; Bundrick 2005, 20; Oakley and Sinos 1993, 28–30). The best preserved of the scenes is on the dinos or krater fragment just mentioned, where the bride tugging her veil and holding a wreath is just visible behind the groom, and attendants supporting baskets on their heads participate in the procession. Finally, one of the more enigmatic and rare images in black-figure appears on a small oinochoe discovered at Berezan. The place of manufacture of the  vase is not certain, and Cook has identified it as East Greek (Cook and Dupont 1998,

Fig. 21. Komast Cup fragment (B66.88) believes it to be the work of the Painter of Copenhagen 103 (Brijder 1983: no. K7). Regardless of painter, the  standard iconography of the male reveller with exaggerated anatomy, sometimes dressed in a short red chiton, and slapping his bottom, is easily recognised. No attributes are extant on the surviving fragments, but it can be assumed that at least some of the  dancers held drinking-horns in their hands (Smith 2000, 311–2). The subject continues to be chosen by black-figure vase-painters, both in Athens and beyond, and is found at Berezan throughout the 6th century, including

33

Solovyov 2005, no. 104 (Fikellura), and no. 95 (Chian). The iconography and composition are typical of the group (ABV  203: ‘Group of Louvre F137’). 34

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Fig. 22. Dinos(?), wedding scene (B74.144)

Fig. 23. Fragment of epinetron, charioteers (B68.79)

119, fig. 16.1). Regardless, the iconography deserves our attention. Two women are wrapped in a single cloak, while two males, one on either side, look on. Such images have been variously interpreted, and ours is perhaps a somewhat abbreviated version of an event involving a greater number of participants. A  possible cult occasion seems as good an interpretation as any (Schauenburg 1976, 213–9). At the same time, one wonders if such scenes might not be related in some way to textile production. In fact, fragments of two black-figure epinetra (or onoi), the knee and thigh cover used by women for working wool, have also been discovered at Berezan (B66.94, B67.132, B68.79; Gorbunova 1982, 42, fig. 5; and B68.78, 79; Gorbunova 1982, 43, fig. 6; Fig. 23)35.

and ethnicity, subjects of relevance for a  mixed cultural area such as Berezan 37. Greek pottery in general has featured prominently in discussions of the  settlement phases of the  site, and in those concerned with colonial contacts around the Black Sea (e.g. Tsetsklhadze 1998). As  well, shape seems to be as important a factor, if not more important than subject or style, in choosing Athenian imports at Berezan and elsewhere 38 . While tedious arguments might be constructed to indicate that the  Archaic iconography here is unique, or at least special in some regard, this would be both incorrect and misleading. Parallels of shape and decoration are found at nearby Olbia, and at Histria, to name but a few, as well as at many Greek colonial sites outside the Black Sea regions (Smith 2009). The variable quality of our finds might say more about what found its way to Black Sea sites (in this case via Ionia), than about the individuals who used them once they arrived 39.

Archaic Visual Culture?

The imagery adorning the black-figure vases found in the Berezan excavations reveals many of the subjects associated with both the time and the technique. Dividing the discussion into the broad categories of animals and monsters, gods and heroes, men and women has provided a structure for our iconographic summary. At this point, we might pause to ask some obvious questions. In studying such an assemblage of Athenian black-figure imports (or any other), does Berezan differ from other Greek colonial sites around the Black Sea, or from those further afield? Would these images be equally at home in Histria or Myrmekion? Sicily or Cyrene? And how do these finds contribute to our discussion of Archaic visual culture?

Finally, the study of Athenian vase-painting has greatly evolved since the time of Beazley and his contemporaries40. Black-figure pottery manufactured both inside and outside Athens is far better studied and understood than ever before. We are asking new and different question of the evidence with varying degrees of success. Connoisseurship and cataloguing are no longer considered ends in themselves, and we take a greater interest these days in the language and meaning of images. Recent work has been devoted to collecting and reception, and with current cultural property debates abounding, there is still much to be covered in these areas. Returning to Archaic visual culture, we can be certain that the iconography of vases alone does have something, potentially a great deal to teach us about everyday concerns in a variety of contexts, from the artisan’s workshop to the  symposiast’s andron. But just

Firstly, we must be reminded of the limitations of the  evidence. The majority of examples from Berezan are fragmentary, survive in generally poor condition, and do not represent the highest quality of Athenian black-figure available at any point of production. Secondly, our pottery certainly has, and should continue to be used as evidence for dating, trading, function and/or status, as has been variously suggested36. To this list might now be added acculturation

37

Hall 2002, 104–11. For Berezan in particular see Solovyov 1999, 47–97, where he is interested in the issue throughout; Solovyov 2001; and also Shepherd 1999, for an intelligent discussion base on burial finds from Sicily. 38 Bouzek 1990, 89–8; Curry 2000; and see Rice 1987, 244–73. 39 Tsetskhladze 1998, 51–2; Boardman 1999, 242–5. On ‘visual colonialism’ and related issues see Mirzoeff 1998, 282–90. 40 Cf. note 3 above. See also Smith 2005.

For this rather rare shape see ABV 480–1; Boardman 1974, 191, with bibliography. 36 Orton et al. 1993, 23–30; cf. Boardman 1999, 12–9, 239–45; and Gorbunova 1973; 1982; Kopeikina 1986; Bouzek 1990, 45–7; Boardman 1999, 225–66, esp. 250; Smith 2009, for Berezan. 35

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how this same iconographic evidence contributes to the discussion of identity and ethnicity is much more a  matter of debate. A  careful analysis of form, function, find-spot and distribution would be necessary if we would hope to shed light on any specific local or ethnic significance. Comparisons with other artistic media, or with archaeological sites where Greek and native relations are well attested, such

as in Sicily, might also prove beneficial. The portrayal of Scythians and Greeks – attested in only one known example from the site (B78.97) – is in its own way telling, but adds little to this particular discussion. At  the end of the day, these images and our endless methods of approaching them may say more about modern visual-cultural concerns than those of Archaic Berezan.

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Borysthenes and Olbia: Greeks and Natives Interactions on the Initial Stage of Colonisation Sergey Solovyov The initial stage of Greek penetration into Scythia covered from the middle up to the last quarter of t he  7t h  cent u r y  BC. T hese ch ronolog ical f r a mes are determined by the first Greek imports found in the  Northern Black Sea hinterland and by the foundations of Greek settlements in the coastal zone that more or less meets the  information of ancient authors on the Greek colonisation of Northern Pontus (Vinogradov et al. 1990). The archaeological evidence, which used to be associated with this date, can be shared on two groups by their provenance. One group includes the finds of archaic Greek pottery in the sites and tombs of indigenous population, which inhabited the steppe and forest-steppe zones of Scythia. Other group embraces the Greek ceramic import of two coastal sites, those of on the Berezan Island and on the coast of the Taganrog Gulf (Fig. 1).

stemmed dish), accompanied by a number of North Ionian bird bowls dating not earlier than 630 BC, and isolated finds of Protocorinthian pottery, that of Linear kotyle dating to 650–630 BC, as well as hand-made local ceramics originated in the forest-steppe Scythia, those of tulip-shaped pots of Late Chyornyi Les culture, which were decorated with applied decoration separated by finger-prints with punctures (Fig.2).

A revision of archaeological evidence, which Berezan provides, has definitely shown that relevant archaeological materials really consist of a very small group of painted Greek vessels (Solovyov 2007b, 38–40), which were mostly composed of SiA Id, by the classification of M.  Kerschner and U. Schlotzhauer (2005), jugs and plates (so-called

Meanwhile both imported and local pottery can not be a  strong argument of Greek and Natives inhabitation before ca. 630 BC. Just in the following decades of  the 7th century, pottery seems to reflect a time of comparative steadiness of the site as a trading emporium for the  Northern Black Sea coast. The ways and reasons

In turn, the Taganrog collection of 7th century Greek imports mainly composes of several dozen shreds of East Greek bird bowls and jugs (Kopylov and Larenok 1994). But we should not forget that this collection was mainly formed of artefacts found on the sea shore. First attempts have just recently been made to investigate ancient cultural layers submerged by a sea (Dally and Larenok 2002).

Fig. 1. The map of the Northern Black Sea area: 1 – Greek and local sites; 2 – Scythian tombs with Greek pottery of the 7th century BC 89

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Fig. 2. Greek (Inv. B90.21, B172, B69.29, B254, B83.19, B451, B69.60) and local (Inv. B69.217) pottery of the first stage of colonisation from Berezan of Greek penetration into the  Northern Black Sea now are mainly found out (Koshelenko and Kuznetsov 1998; Tsetskhladze 1994, 1998; Solovyov 2007b; Domanskii, Marchenko 2007). In turn, the appearance of Scythians on the coast is also explained by the specific character of their economy and the seasonal dependence of cattle breeding (Gavrilyuk 1999, 138–9).

might specify the irregularity and the short duration of first contacts between Greeks and Natives (Solovyov 1998, 208–12; 2007, 41). They needed plenty of time for getting better acquainted with each other. More than a quarter of the  century has passed before the first traces of their permanent and joint residing on Berezan have appeared, which were those of the cultural layer and dwellings on the  site, and burials in the necropolis (Solovyov 1999, 3–4).

The recently made archaeometric analysis of Greek pottery from Berezan provides some observations on ethnic composition of traders and their trading habits. It turns out that late 7th century BC imported pottery was generally dominated by South Ionian, mainly Milesian products, while the market in the 6th century BC was dominated by North Ionian products. The mutable partition between South Ionian and North Ionian products can reflect a free market or can also indicate changes in the origin of probably newly arrived settlers (Posamentir 2006a, 161–2, figs. 2–4; Posamentir and Solovyov 2006, 127).

On the basis of archaeological materials from Berezan and other places in the Northern Pontic area, where Greeks were active, one can be stated that the development of the  coastal zone of the Black Sea-Azov basin could not been accomplished by ancient Greeks without their being well acquainted with geographical conditions, natural resources and demography of colonised regions. The development was accomplished by small groups of seafarers – adventurers and traders, mostly Ionians. They were interested in new sources of raw material, first of all cooper and iron, and, probably, in obtaining foodstuffs for their home cities, which were burdened by internal social and economic problems and struggles against external enemies (Solovyov 2007b).

Nevertheless, the small number and typological unvariety of Greek imports and handmade pottery of the 7th century 90

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Contacts with local population of the Northern Black Sea littoral were undoubtedly an important part of the  colonisation process (Marchenko 2005c). Numerous archaeological data testify that the most simple and widely spread pattern of interactions was the accidental meeting of Greek seafarers with nomads and semi-settled population, who lived in the steppes and forest-steppe of Scythia, and used water-meadows of Borysthenes and Hypanis, as well as northern coast of Lake Maeotis, as winter pastures for their cattle. Under favourable circumstances (such as peaceful and easygoing interactions; absence of external threat and mutual benefits) these casual meetings gradually developed into steady, regular, most likely seasonal contacts. The  areas around Berezan (on the Northern Black Sea shore) and Taganrog (on the northern coast of the Sea of Azov) became the epicentres of such contacts (Solovyov 2004).

Greek merchants and tribal leaders of nomadic and semi-settled Scythians could have initiated this kind of interaction. To be successful, Greeks probably had to receive the approval of the local leaders. This could be obtained in different ways: by providing occasional gifts, by making temporary agreements and by paying regular tribute. The majority of 7th century Greek imports found in the Scythian burials must have been such gifts. Seasonal moorings were certainly erected at other coastal points, protected from bad weather and the threat of sudden attack. Most probably, these were the places, which were identified in the Greek peryploi of Pontus. By the end of 7th and the early 6th centuries BC these locations began to be transformed into the stationary settlements with mixed Greek and native population, which probably were the archaeological sites on both banks of the Cimmerian Bosporus, first of all those of Panticapaeum and Hermonassa (Tsetskhladze 1997, 44–9, 55–7).

Without any doubt, the wide development of trade dominated in relations between Greeks and Natives in these places. The same could be inferred from handicraft production, which initially also had a seasonal character. The best example of such a seasonal craft site is at Yagorlyk on the Dnieper delta not far from Berezan (Fig. 3). The  remnants of temporary iron, bronze and glass-making workshops, dated from the 7th century BC, have been found on the site (Ostroverkhov 1979). New evidences of bronze-making and pottery manufacturing workshops have recently been uncovered on Berezan as early as the early 6th century BC (Domanskii and Marchenko 2007).

The last decade of the 7th century BC the appearance of first Greek settlements, properly trading stations or portof-trades on the Northern Black Sea coast has cardinally changed the character of cultural interactions between Greeks and Scythians. Though the number and composition of finds of the Greek pottery in hinterland have a little changed in comparison with those of the previous stage, in turn the ceramic assemblages of coastal settlements became numerically significant and typologically various (Kopeikina

Fig. 3. The satellite view of the Dnieper-Southern Bug estuary 91

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Fig. 4. The map and views of the Berezan Island 1986, 28–37). The main feature of the coastal settlements became a mixture of the Greek and local traditions in all their cultural variety. A vivid example is that of the Berezan settlement (Solovyov 1999) (Fig. 4).

was built up by the dugout (subterranean) dwellings, which were made in accordance with the local house-building traditions (Fig. 5). They were built half in and half out of the earth in an area occupying from 6 to 16 square meters. These buildings were architecturally crude, characterised by simplicity of construction and interior layout. The basic distinction among dug-out constructions lies in the form of dwellings: the layout may be quadrangular, oval, or circular. The duration of their functioning averaged from 5 to 12 years. Nearly 250 such dwellings have been found up to the present time. It turned up that composition of dwellings varied by different parts of the settlement (Fig.  6). The North-western section was dominated by dug-outs of circular and oval layouts. In turn, the Eastern section was dominated by dug-outs of quadrangular shapes. The central area of the settlement was clear of domestic architecture in that time, and likely was composed of household structures, those of storage pits and dug-outs.

The Berezan settlement, known in the ancient world initially by the name Borysthenes, was the first link in a  chain of Greek city-states, which appeared on the northern coast of the Pontus in the Archaic period. Together with those other city-states, Borysthenes became an active participant in the cultural and trading expansion of ancient Greeks into the Northern Pontus, and in the transmission of Greek culture on the vast territory of forest-steppe and steppe Scythia. Borysthenes became a powerful ‘magnet’, drawing the representatives of indigenous population into its economic and political influence, also due to its advantageous position in the mouth of two major rivers of Scythia, those of Borysthenes and Hypanis. Natives, in turn, left numerous traces of their presence in the material and spiritual culture of Berezan.

It was attested that the building practice of the  first inhabitants of Berezan was determined mainly by local traditions of dug-out construction. Not only the  morphological indicators of the Berezan dug-outs show that, but also the  spatial arrangement of the settlement, which developed

The settlement was founded on a peninsula in full conformity with the Greek colonial practice. However, during first three quarters of its existence the settlement 92

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Fig. 5. Archaic dug-out dwellings of the Berezan settlement haphazardly, with no regulation of construction, and was shaped exclusively by the elementary rules of communal living and by the conditions of economic activity (Fig.  7). Resting on dug-out construction, the urbanisation of the  Berezan settlement could not be fully realized in principle (Sollovyov 1996).

On the whole, the statistic analysis of ceramic assemblages from Berezan dug-outs has shown that fragments of Greek trade amphorae made up the largest part of finds (up to 80 % of all pottery fragments). Leaving amphorae out of account, the ratio of imported Greek ware to hand-made pottery was approximately 80 % to 20 %. In isolated instances the portion of handmade pottery increased by 10–20 %.

Nevertheless, the strongest local tradition is attested by handmade pottery, which composition consists of varied typological groups and represents a steady complex of various categories of vessels (Marchenko 1988; Senatorov 2005) (Fig. 8). First of all, it composes of coarse kitchen ware decorated with applied decoration separated by finger-prints with punctures and tableware with incised ornamentation, reflecting ceramic traditions characteristic of forest-steppe Scythian cultures of the Early Scythian time. Another table pottery, which has polished surface decorated with both incised and combed ornaments, was characteristic of the Kizil-Koba (or early Taurian) culture in the Crimean peninsula, which dated, respectively, from the 8th to the first half of the 6th century BC, and from the second half of 6th to the first half of 4th century BC. The appearance of such pottery on Berezan is dated as early as the second quarter of the 6th century BC (Solovyov 1995). The coarse jars and bowls with fluted surface, which appeared on Berezan in the same time, attest the presence of population whether derived from the Northern Thrace or being strongly influenced by the Thracian culture.

So, one can assume that certain particular features of the construction of dug-outs on Berezan, which at first glance appear accidental (especially, the three layout types of dwellings, changes in the frequency of their occurrence in separate areas of the settlement, and the apparent absence of construction regulations in general), in fact directly reflected the diversity of the local culture. The  fact of this heterogeneity became clear primarily as a  result of the observed combination of specific characteristics of Berezan dug-outs with other features of daily life for Berezan inhabitants. Most important in this regard was the  combination of dug-out features with the types of handmade pottery widely used in everyday life and discovered in fill inside dug-outs (Fig. 9). It turned up that in places, where circular dug-outs were concentrated, pottery related to that of the middle Dniester region, which seemed to be under the strong influence of Thracian culture, tended to predominate. In parts of Berezan occupied by rectangular and to some extent oval structures, a different type of hand-made pottery predominated. This other type can be 93

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Fig. 6. Dynamics of Berezan dug-outs varied by layouts

Fig. 7. Spatial organisation of dug-out construction on the Berezan settlement 94

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Fig. 8. Archaic hand-made pottery of the Berezan settlement

Fig. 9. Composition of hand-made pottery from Berezan dug-outs varied by layouts 95

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linked only to the pottery of the middle Dnieper region, which was settled by forest-steppe Scythian tribes.

2008). One of the most notable features of such buildings is the stone basement arranged around all the sides of a  pit (Solovyov 1999, 59–63, figs. 43, 44, 46; 2008, figs. 1–4). The aboveground parts of the wall were constructed of mud bricks. The lower row of the masonry consisted of large polygonal slabs placed sidewise. The dwelling was one-chambered; however, its interior space was divided into two ‘halves’ with separate functions: living and foodpreparation areas, where stoves and hearths were located (Fig. 10). Moreover, the inhabitants of the dug-out also used of portable braziers. Finds from these buildings compose, as usual, mainly of fragments of amphorae from various manufacturing centres of Ionia and Greece. Both decorated and cooking pottery is well represented too.

Cultural differences between the groups of natives, who (willingly or unwillingly) ended up residing in the Lower Bug River region, can be seen not only in the type of dwellings or in ceramic assemblages, but also in other details of everyday life on Berezan (Solovyov 2005, 126–35). Particularly important in this regard are cult objects, types of work tools, weapons, and adornments. All of those have been found in great quantities on Berezan, and the  great majority of which are linked to local cultures. The first craft workshops, which appeared on Berezan and in its vicinities at the same time, made the bronze and iron products of local types.

Among numerous and diverse archaic burials in the  Berezan necropolis (Fig. 11) only few can be referred to the first half of the 6th century BC. Mostly of them were cremations and children’s interments in vases (Vinogradov, Domanskij 1996). At the same time, so appreciable absence of a large number of early Greek graves can also specify rather small share of Greeks among the first settlers on Berezan. The necropolis materials attest that the quantity of Greek colonists has sharply been grown in the second half of the 6th century BC. More than half burials were dated by that time.

Therefore, in my opinion, there is no doubt that most of the more visible features of ancient Berezan culture during the first three quarters of the 6th century BC were rooted in the local cultures of the northern Black Sea. However, it is also clear that some part of Berezan culture must have belonged to the Greek colonists, whose existence in this region is of course without doubt. It was the statistic analysis of ceramic assemblages from dug-outs that has shown that the fragments of trade amphorae from Klazomenai, Chios, Lesbos, and Miletus made up the  largest part of the numerous finds, followed by those of imported Greek ware.

Depending on these cultural features of the Berezan settlement during the first 60–70 years, its main function, which was caused by interests of Greeks in trade with Natives, is defined as a trading-craft centre. Though, it  is possible to speak with confidence, such interest was mutual.

The composition of Greek table pottery in that time was dominated by North Ionian production. It was noticed that this ceramic material showed a surprisingly limited variety of shapes and the same time surprising amount of almost identical objects, and among them high number of ‘extraordinary’ shapes such as askoi, alabastra, lydia, etc. On the whole the spectrum of shapes is dominated by table amphorae, jugs, krateres, plates or stemmed dish, and drinking cups. The latter in turn compose of well-known types of the North Ionian area, such as bird-, rosette-, meander-, lotus-, eye-, banded-ware and animal-frieze bowls. The South Ionian pottery of that time is represented by the so-called Ionian cups and Fikellura pottery. It is worth noting that the Berezan settlement also became one of the most important places of discovery for the Aeolian dinoi of the so-called London Dinos Group (Posamentir 2006a, 161–4, fig. 4, 10, 11).

It is worth noting, when Greeks along with their trade affairs have been engaged in a political arrangement of the  Dnieper-Bug estuary coastal area (Solovyov 2001b), which was improbable without the consent of local tribal leaders, the Berezan settlement in short term was purposefully transformed into the typical Greek city and Borysthenes polis, in which non-Greeks formed the  main part of rural population. These cardinal changes of architectural and cultural aspects of the Berezan settlement have taken place in the third quarter the 6th century  BC. During a very short time the whole territory of the  settlement was built up with aboveground homes of  generally Greek types. As it has been established, this was preceded by preparatory work to fill the dug-outs and storage pits, and to level the  surface of areas designated for aboveground construction (Solovyov 1999, 64–79).

Other groups of Greek pottery compose of Early Corinthian aryballoi, kotylai and pyxides (Bukina 2009), Chiot chalices and lekanai (Ilyina 2005), Clazomenian krateres and jugs (Ilyina), as well as of Attic black-figure vessels, which earliest examples are dated to the first quarter of the  6th  century, including the workshops of Sophilos, the  Gorgon Painter, the Komast Group and the Polos Painter (Smith in this volume; Smith; Petrakova 2005). The overall number of Athenian black-figure imports increases towards the middle of the century.

The newly erected houses had an area of 120 to 260 square meters and consisted of a few living and household rooms that were grouped around an interior courtyard. Depending on their designated purpose, the rooms held stoves, hearths, braziers, heating systems of a fireplace type, paving, and drains. In the courtyards, partially paved with fragments of pottery and small stones, there were located wells, root cellars, altars, and drains. The houses were most likely one-stored, although the wall construction of

Probably, the first Greek settlers could use any part of the dug-out constructions as temporary dwellings (Solovyov 96

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Fig. 10. Berezan dug-out 41 of the second quarter of the 6th century BC 97

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Fig. 11. The map of the Berezan necropolis excavated by G. L. Skadovskii (after Lapin 1966) 98

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Berezan buildings would not prevent the construction of a  second floor. The quality of the construction work varied and seemed to depend on the wealth of the home-owner. On the whole, construction techniques were of a  fairly high level.

houses (Fig. 12). The area of such a block approached a half of acre. The size and placement of the blocks were regulated by a developed network of streets, which was evidently set up from the  beginning by an approximately regular plan. Regulation of the area of the settlement occupied by aboveground buildings evidently did not extend to the outskirts, where right up to the beginning of the 5th century BC dug-out construction continued, although to a significantly lesser extent than before (Fig. 13). Only

T he a r ch it e c t u r a l a p p e a r a nc e of t he Be r ez a n houses indicates the urban character of construction. All  the  dwellings were grouped in blocks of eight or more

Fig. 12. The map of the Late Archaic residential area  of Borysthenes 99

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Fig. 13. Dynamics of residential construction in Berezan a very small number of the former dwellers of Berezan evidently remained living on the peninsula. These people were possibly involved in construction work at the new city or had some other relationship with the newcomers.

One further very important change of this time consisted in the fact that the spiritual life of Borysthenes inhabitants now took on typically Greek characteristics. Primary among these characteristics are traces of Greek cults. Attributable materials, which were discovered in aboveground houses, included remnants of fixed and portable altars, numerous graffiti on vessels, and dedications to various deities of the ancient Greek pantheon, cultic terracotta, stone statuettes, and stone and clay lamps. The single known cult construction on the Berezan – the temple of Aphrodite – has been erected at the same time (Nazarov 2001; Kryzhytskii 2001). At that time were issued the first Borysthenes coins (Solovyov 2006)), those were cast of bronze in shapes of arrowheads and dolphins, and in shape of large segment combined images of both an arrowhead and a head of tuna. One of the earliest in the Northern Pontus jewellery workshop with bronze punches has been revealed in Berezan (Treister and Solovyov 2004).

That the new settlers of Berezan possessed a political organisation of the polis type also seems difficult to doubt. By the end of the first third of the 5th century BC Borysthenes reached its greatest dimensions that it had never attained before or since. The construction work on Borysthenes reached its peak, which undoubtedly gave it the characteristic features of a classical city. In the last quarter of the 6th century BC cardinal changes developed in practically the entire cultural sphere of the  Berezan settlement (Solovyov 1999, 64–97). Substantive changes occurred in the composition of the  ceramic complex of the settlement. Most significant was the growth of wheeled pottery, both cooking and table ware. From this time forward, most of this pottery consisted of products from Athenian workshops. Among other shapes of the  pottery stemmed cups taper off in quantity during the later years of the 6th and the early years of the 5th centuries BC (Petrakova 2009), only to be replaced to some extent by skyphoi; lekythoi also increase in popularity in the years around 500 BC (Smith). Attic products gradually supplanted Ionian pottery in the  daily life of Borysthenes’ citizens. Excluded from this process were of course the  amphorae produced by Ionian potters. It is well known that wine was in huge demand in the  marketplaces of the Northern Black Sea region, sought after by both Greeks and Natives.

The uncovered part of the Berezan necropolis mainly belongs to the same time (Vinogradov and Domanskij 1996). In the second half of the 6th – the first half of the 5th  century BC 90 % of burials were inhumations in simple funeral pits with quadrangular or oval shapes. The skeletons found in them mostly were laid extended on a back, oriented by a  head, as a rule, to Northeast or Northwest. In this group 33  % of deceased were buried writhed and laid on a side. It  is possible to attribute them with the  indigenous population of the Northern Pontic area, although the question on ethnicity of writhed burials, which were recovered in the necropolis of Ancient Greek cities, is still rather far from the final decision. Besides the deceased in writhed poses, the  rest bodies were buried by Greek funeral rites. By the  way, it is necessary to note that a location of the  cemetery of indigenous population keeps unknown.

The amount of hand-made pottery in the ceramic complex of Berezan declined substantially in comparison with earlier times. In addition, the composition of such pottery also changed: many specialised forms disappeared, but hand‑made imitations of Greek originals became frequent.

All those features, which earlier were proper to  Berezan (dugout constr uction, hand-made potter y, elements 100

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of local cults), after that one can find in the culture of the  Borysthenes agricultural population that was heterogeneous and Hellenised. From that time the indigenous population was mainly used in developing of agriculture on Borysthenes chora. Natives, those of farmers and settled nomads, being under the influence of Greek economy and policy, became dependent on the Greek community, which granted them lands on lease and allowed bartering at the  city markets. Semi-dependence status of Natives is attested by archaeological data from chorai of Northern Pontic cities, those mostly of Ionian. A form of non-economic coercion was slavery. The epigraphical evidence such as lead letters from Berezan and Phanagoria (Vinogradov 1971; 1998) and Herodotus mention the slaves, most probably non-Greek by their origin, among the population of early Greek colonies in the Northern Pontic region. The aspiration for marking the borders of the state territory was realised by means of the creation of several boundary sanctuaries (Buiskikh 2004), those of the sacred grove of Achilles in the Beykush settlement, the altars of Heracles and Mother of Gods in Hylaia. The main of which most likely was that of the sanctuary of Apollo the Healer in Olbia, which at that time obviously was just the part of Borysthenes polis. Olbia was settled by mixed population, both Greek and Natives, that is attested by dug-out construction and handmade pottery discovered in the  settlement. However, owing to the social collisions, which have happened in Borysthenes, already at last quarter of the 6th century BC Olbia became an independent citystate (Solovyov 2001b). In that time, after the arrival of a significant group of new colonists, this place became the centre for the worship of Apollo Delphinion. The social conflict between the first settlers and the newcomers has become known in the  form of a religious dispute between worshippers of Apollo the  Healer and Apollo Delphinion. It has received mystical reflection in the Apollo Didyma oracle found on Berezan (Rusyaeva 1986). According to its contents, the recovery of social peace in the region was owed to Apollo. It was reached due to the worship of both hypostasis of the god. The territory of the polis was divided between the new city-states, which became those of Borysthenes and Olbia (Solovyov 2001b). The confirmation of prosperity made by officials was obviously that of permitting the equivalent circulation of different polis coin forms, which were those of ‘arrowheads’ and ‘dolphins’ probably authorised by the  temples of the two deities (Solovyov 2006). The border between the two cities was probably the deep Adzhigol Gully, with slopes used mainly as a pasture for small cattle and neat. Scythian nomads, which cemeteries have been found out, settled this territory from the end of the 6th century BC. In the second half of the 6th – the first third of the  5th  centuries BC the inflow of local population onto the  territory of Borysthenes and Olbia did not weaken. Both city-states felt a need of manpower resources for developing

their rural territories, as the agriculture was a necessary condition of independent existence of poleis, along with those of trade and craft. More than two hundred rural settlements from the earliest colonisation period and a few hundreds of sites from later times have been surveyed, but only several sites have been excavated (Kryzhitskii et al. 1990). Differences between the  rural settlements of both poleis became apparent, first of all, from the planning of the sites, the type of dwellings, and the assemblage of hand-made pottery. The rural population of Borysthenes, coming mainly from the agricultural areas located between the Dniester and the  Southern Bug Rivers, had a more homogeneous composition. The typical site of Borysthenes chora is the  Kutsurub settlement (Marchenko and Domanskii 1986; 1991). Its features include those of the subdivision of the  settled area into two zones – household and residential, with the latter represented by scattered dugouts of a  mainly circular layout, and the  stability of construction traditions. The  material culture of the site is dominated by the  components characteristic of the middle Dniester region, which seemed to be under the strong influence of the Thracian culture. The population of the Olbia chora was heterogeneous, dominated by the immigrants from the forest-steppe middle Dnieper region. The typical site of the Olbian rural territory is the Staraya Bogdanovka settlement (Marchenko, Domanskii 1981). The dynamic, intensive development of house-building resulted here in quite a rapid replacement of big and small single-chamber dugouts and semi-dugouts by aboveground mud-brick and stone structures. Some of them, those of the very large farmstead and unique circular building, are still left without any parallels in material culture of the region. The Greek pottery from the  settlement was characteristic of rural sites of the region, but the  typologically heterogeneous hand-made pottery reflected the ethnic diversity of the local population, mainly Scythians and Thracians. Statistical analysis of dug-out construction and hand‑made pottery from Berezan, supplemented by similar data from a series of other Late Archaic sites in the lower Bug River region, demonstrates the significance of the correlation abovementioned (Fig. 14). The explanation of the facts can be found just in the course of Greek colonisation in the Northern Black Sea area. The active and successful Greek economic activities drew some groups of indigenous population from the forest-steppe Scythia into the process of occupying the Lower Bug River region. Owing to certain features of their culture (particularly in building practice and in making and decorating hand-made pottery), the  forest-steppe Scythian groups were drawn mainly from two areas, those of the  middle Dniester and middle Dnieper regions. The culture of the nomadic Scythian population, which is also reflected in archaeological materials, probably comprised a third component of indigenous culture. Owing to specific 101

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Fig. 14. Share and composition of hand-made pottery in the Late Archaic sites of the Low Bug River area characteristics of nomadic way of life, the steppe-Scythian culture was very heterogeneous and included components of those cultures with which the  nomads came into contact.

very close to Greek colonies in the North-Western Black Sea area. In  that period of political and military instability in Scythia some portions of the urban, and possibly rural, population of Borysthenes may have overflowed into Olbia. From that time decline of Berezan settlement has gradually started. The later existence of ancient Berezan is the history of an ordinary agricultural and fishing settlement not very visible against the background of other villages of Olbia polis, which obtained better fortune.

At the end of the first third of the 5th century BC the cultural and historical situation in the Northern Black Sea region underwent fundamental changes because of the  Scythian expansion to the west (Marchenko and Vinogradov 1989). The areas of nomad activities have become

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Die Beziehungen zwischen Borysthenes, Olbia und Bosporos in der archaischen Zeit nach den epigraphischen Quellen* Sergej R. Tokhtasev Mit diesem Vortrag möchte ich nochmals (vgl. Tokhtasev 1999a, 187–8; 2005, 7–12, 28–30) auf bestimmte schriftliche Quellen und vor allem auf epigraphische Angaben über die Beziehungen der bosporanischen Städte mit Borysthenes (der Siedlung auf der Insel Berezan) und Olbia während der archaischen Zeit hinweisen.

Dieses unbestreitbare Zeugnis von so frühen, direkten Beziehungen zwischen Borysthenes und Bosporos ermöglicht die richtige Deutung einiger anderer Daten, die eigentlich schon seit Jahren gut bekannt sind, doch bis jetzt nur wenig und nicht genügend beachtet wurden. 2. Der Achilleuskult ist an der Schwarzmeerküste außer in Olbia und Chersonesos3 nur am Bosporos bekannt. Nach Strabon [XI, 2, 6] befand sich das “Dorf Achilleion ( )..., in dem ein Heiligtum des Achilleus steht” am Maiotischen See, wo er in die Meeresenge übergeht.4 Leider ist Achilleion bisher archäologisch nicht entdeckt, und so kann man über den Beginn dieses Kultes am Bosporos nur nach indirekten Quellenangaben gewisse Schlüsse ziehen.

1. 1998 publizierte Jurij G. Vinogradov einen auf ein Bleitäfelchen geschriebenen Brief aus Phanagoreia, den er überzeugend in das letzte Viertel des 6. Jh. v. Chr. 1 datierte (genauer – etwa 530–510 v. Chr.). Der Text lautet folgendermaßen:  a :    : 2  :  :   :  : [-5-6-]d, d.h. “Dieser Sklave wurde aus Borysthenes zum Verkauf erworben, sein Name ist Phaulles. Wir wünschen alles […]en…”.

Den terminus post quem gibt das Epitaphion CIRB 1059, das anscheinend in der Nekropole von Hermonassa gefunden wurde und das, wie an anderer Stelle gezeigt wurde (Tokhtas’ev 2005, 28–30), folgendermaßen rekonstruiert werden muß: c     oder besser  [vgl.  I.Priene 2661, 2.  Jh. v. Chr.]; “Polemarchos errichtete (dieses Denkmal) für Isokrates, den Sohn des Achilleides” (oder Achilleios). Die Stele ist verschollen, und die Wiedergabe der Inschrift in der editio princeps von Ju.  Ju. Marti erlaubt keine Datierung nach paläographischen Besonderheiten. Doch die Bewahrung des langen Diphthongs im Patronymikon (wie etwa in , s. weiter unten, (s. u., 4) verweist sie eindeutig in eine ziemlich frühe Zeit, d.h. in das 6. oder 5.  Jh. v. Chr.5 Die Personennamen, die von dem Heroennamen Achilleus abgeleitet sind, erscheinen also vor der römischen Zeit außer in Berezan und Olbia6 nur in Hermonassa. Daraus geht hervor,

Man kann schwerlich vermuten, daß es in Borysthenes damals einen Sklavenmarkt gab (wie etwa im hellenistischen Rhodos), zu den man speziell hinfuhr, um besonders wertvolle Sklaven zu kaufen. Im 6. Jh. v. Chr. gab es noch keine Märkte solcher Art. Falls Phaulles tatsächlich irgendwelche außerordentlichen Fähigkeiten besessen hätte (z.B. als ein hervorragender Handwerker, Musikant oder wertvoller Paidagogos oder als Knabe mit glänzender Schönheit), wäre dies in dem Brief wohl auch angegeben worden. Andererseits war er sicher auch kein ganz gewöhnlicher Sklave, da man einen solchen ebenso gut auch in Phanagoreia oder anderswo in Bosporos hätte kaufen können. Daher handelt es sich allem Anschein nach nicht um einen gewöhnlichen Ankauf, der während einer Geschäftsreise des Briefschreibers nur nebenbei getätigt wurde. Vinogradov (1998, 162 ff.; 1999, 140  ff.) dachte freilich, wohl richtig, an den Handelsagenten (vgl.  ) eines bosporanischen Kunden. “Offensichtlich besaß der seinem griechischen Namen nach wohl im Herrenhaus aufgewachsene und ausgebildete Sklave (Q) besondere handwerkliche oder künstlerische Fähigkeiten, die die Sklaven in der näheren Umgebung des Käufers nicht beherrschten… Ein unbekannter Phanagorite beauftragt die sich nach Borysthenes begebenden Kaufleute, einen Sklaven mit besonderen Fähigkeiten zu erwerben, wofür er ihnen einen Vorschuß und/oder ein Pfand zahlte; nach ihrer Heimkehr forderten die Händler ihn dann auf, sämtliche Kosten zu begleichen” (Vinogradov 1999, 140 ff.).

3

Solomonik u.a. 1978, Nr. 388: A oder  (Ende des 5. Jh. v. Chr.), Nr. 389–402:   (4.–3. Jh. v. Chr.). 4 Vgl. auch ebd. VII, 4, 5 (dieselbe Quelle); Ptol. Geogr. V, 9, 5 (  ); Ps.-Arrian. 10r23-24; 16v15, Diller; St. B. s.v.  . 5 Die ältesten bisher bekannten Steininschriften aus Bosporos datieren fast ausschließlich in das 1. Viertel des 5. Jh. v. Chr. Älter sind nur zwei Inschriften – ein Grabstein aus Korokondame (Tsetskhladze and Kondrashev 2001, 348–9, № 1, fig. 2, mit falschen Lesung und Datierung; Agafonov 2004, 22–3:       ; um 550–525  v. Chr.) und eine Votivinschrift CIRB 1234 (wahrscheinlich aus Hermonassa oder Phanagoreia), die leider längst verlorengegangen und nur nach einem alten Stich bekannt ist (s.  CIG II 2133 = IGA  350  = IOSPE II 469; vgl. Tolstoj 1909); die Buchstabenformen ( , ⊕,  +) weisen auf das 6. Jh. hin. 6 , Verfasser des berühmten Bleibriefes um 500 v. Chr.: Vinogradov 1971, 97; Dubois 1996, Nr. 23; vgl. auch Tokhtasev in: Solovyov 2005, 142 ff., Nr. 269 (leider mit Druckfehlern), mit einer Photographie. Ein anderer Achillodoros ist aus einer olbischen Fluchtafel aus der ersten Häfte des 4. Jh. v. Chr. bekannt, s. Tolstoj 1953, Nr. 63 (= Dubois 1996, Nr. 105).

* Diese Artikel wurde mit der Unterstützung der Russischen

humanistischen wissenschaftlichen Stiftung (RGNF) abgefaßt (Projekt Nr. 04 – 01– 00508а: “Klassische Epigraphik des Bosporos”). 1 Vinogradov 1998, 160 ff. Nr. 3 [= SEG XLVIII 1024]; s. auch Vinogradov 1999, 140 ff. 2 Vinogradov: [ ? ]d “We wish all (debts?) to be paid” bzw. “Wir wollen, daß die ganze (Schuld)summe ausgezahlt wird”.

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daß der Kult des Heros auf der asiatischen Seite des Bosporos spätestens seit dem 5. Jh. v. Chr. existierte.

Berezan entdeckt wurde. Es lautet:  (gen. fem.; Abb. 1). Nach der Meinung der meisten Forscher stellt dieses Graffito eine Weihung an Aphrodite dar, die unter demselben Epitheton, nur in einer anderen Form, nämlich als 9 am Bosporos verehrt wurde [Strabo XI, 2, 1010]. In den frühen bosporanischen Inschriften wird sie

Alkaios gibt in seiner Hymne auf Achilleus [Fr. 354 [Z  31] Lobel – Page] dem Heroen das Epitheton “Herrscher des skythischen Landes”, der seine Macht beinahe über die gesamte nördliche Schwarzmeerküste ausbreitete. Alkaios war möglicherweise bekannt, daß Achilleus nicht nur auf Leuke und in Borysthenes, sondern auch am anderen Ende Skythiens, am Bosporos, verehrt wurde. In diesem Fall erhalten wir einen anderen terminus post quem: die ersten Jahrzehnte des 6. Jh. v. Chr., d.h. die Zeit der ersten Koloniegründungen am Bosporos. Man kann heute kaum daran zweifeln, daß gerade die Bewohner von Borysthenes und Olbia, die Hauptverehrer des Achilleus am Schwarzen Meer, seinen Kult auf der Insel Leuke gründeten; die zahlreichen Achilleus-Heiligtümer auf dem gesamten Territorium der olbischen Polis müssen als Filialen dieses zentralen Heiligtums betrachet werden (Latyschev 1887, 61; Okhotnikov und Ostroverkhov 1993, 106; Bravo 2001, 242). Unter diesen Umständen kann der bosporanische Kult wohl als ein Beweis für die kulturellen Beziehungen zwischen Borysthenes bzw. Olbia und Bosporos gelten. Ebenso darf man wohl auch das frühe Auftreten des Achilleuskultes in Chersonesos (s. o.) erklären (vgl.  Solomonik 1976, 135). Achilleion befand sich höchstwahrscheinlich dort, wo die Landzunge Chuschka beginnt. Es ist sicher kein Zufall, daß auch einige andere olbische Heiligtümer für Achilleus, wie Bejkusch und Tendra (das Achilleos dromos der Antike) ebenfalls auf Landzungen lagen. Ein gewisser Dionysios von Olbia, der nur aus den Scholien zu Apollonios aus Rhodos [II,  658] bekannt ist, schrieb sogar, daß “die breiten Landzungen als Laufstrecken des Achilleus bezeichnet wurden” (     ).7 Möglicherweise wollte man damit die Lage des Hauptheiligtums auf der einsamen und menschenleeren Insel gewissermaßen nachbilden. Übrigens befand sich das Achilleusheiligtum bei Sigeion in der Troas, wo Achilleus auch gefallen sein soll und wo man auch seinen Grabhügel zeigte [Strabo XIII, 1, 32] ebenfalls auf einer Landzunge. Es muss berücksichtigt werden, daß die Griechen überhaupt gern extraurbane Heiligtümer auf Kaps errichteten, z.B.  den Poseidontempel in Sunion, die Tempel des Apollon Delphinios und der ephesischen Artemis in Massalia (s. u., 4).

Abb. 1. Graffito aus Borysthenes  (Hermitage, St. Petersburg Inv. Nr. B108)

3. Als Beleg für Einflüsse des Bosporos auf Borysthenes im religiösen Bereich ist ein Graffito zu werten, das auf dem Boden einer schwarzglasierten Kylix (etwa 450–425 v.  Chr.) aufgetragen ist,8 die bei Ausgrabungen der Nekropole von

hingegen mit “Aphrodite Urania, Herrscherin (des Heiligtums) Apaturon” (   , CIRB 1111 u.a.) angeredet. Daher kann die Kurzform des Epithetons nichts anderes als ‘die Apaturische’, ‘von Apaturon’ bedeuten (s. bereits Tolstoi 1909, 219); vgl. z.B. …  neben    233 ff. Eine andere Kürzung des umfangreichen Epithetons ist in einer späteren Weihinschrift aus Hermonassa (?) CIRB  1045 (105/4  n. Chr.) zu finden:   (wie  usw.). Somit ist bewiesen, daß der Kult ursprünglich ein lokaler bosporanischer war (Tokhtasev 1999a, 187 f.; ders. in Solovyov 2005, 136). Apaturon dürfte nur eine gräzisierte Form eines einheimischen (sindischen) Ortsnamens sein, was sich auch über eine Kultstätte einer einheimischen Göttin denken läßt (Tokhtasev 1984, 141, Anm. 26).

7

9

Die Varianten  und  erklären sich durch ihre jeweilige Zugehörigkeit zu Adjektiva mit 3 bzw. 2 Endungen. 10 Eine ganz falsche Deutung dieses Zeugnisses schlugen L. Dubois (1996, zu Nr. 75) und Ju. G. Vinogradov (2000, 326; 2002, 18, Anm. 51) vor; s. Tokhtasev 1999a, 188 mit Anm. 78; Finogenova und Tokhtasev 2003, 87, Anm. 5.

Diese Nachricht hat natürlich nicht mehr Wert, als die Aussagen des antiken Lexikographen, der Begriff  (eigentlich ) bedeute allgemein ‘Meeresenge’ (s. Et. M. s.v. :       ), s. dazu Tokhtasev 1999a, 86. 8 Tolstoi 1953, Nr. 78 (= Dubois 1996, Nr. 75); vgl. Yailenko 1980, 89, Nr. 15; Photographie: Solovyov 2005, 136, Nr. 258.

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Borysthenes, Olbia und Bosporos in der archaischen Zeit nach den epigraphischen Quellen

Allerdings ist es auch nicht ausgeschlossen, daß  ein Frauenname ist, nämlich der der Besitzerin dieser Kylix. Doch auch ein solcher Anthroponym wäre auf jeden Fall von dem Epitheton der Göttin abgeleitet.11 Wie dem auch sei, er stellt in jedem Fall einen Beweis für einen kultischen Einfluss des Bosporos auf Borysthenes oder sogar auf ganze olbische Polis (s.u.) dar.

Abb. 3. Weihgraffito aus Borysthenes (Museum der Naturkunde, Ukrainische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Kiev; nach Yailenko 1982, 225, Abb. 100)

A. S. Rusyaeva (1992, 103; 102, Abb. 31: 5) will einen weiteren Beleg des Kultes der Aphrodite Apaturos in einem Graffito auf dem Rand eines schwarzglasigen Skyphos des 1. Viertels des 5. Jh. v. Chr. aus Olbia sehen:     A     (oder ), das folgendermaßen ergänzen werden soll:  a.12 Wenn diese Rekonstruktion richtig ist (was ohne Autopsie der Scherbe nicht nachprüfbar ist), so muß man  aus Berezan sicher als Beiname der Aphrodite auffassen. 4. Auf dem Griff eines Bronzesiebes für Wein (, infundibulum) aus dem dritten Viertel des 6. Jh. v. Chr., das auf der Akropolis von Pantikapaion entdeckt wurde, ist folgende Widmung eingraviert:    (oder ) (Abb. 2).13 In der Zeit von Leukon I. (und zwar etwa

Abb. 2. Votiv des Son aus Pantikapaion (Museum der bildenden Künste, Moskau; nach Trejster 1990) 370–360 v. Chr.) und Pairisades I. (344/3–311/10  v.  Chr.) datieren noch zwei weitere Weihinschriften für die Ephesische Artemis aus Pantikapaion:   (CIRB 6a),14 bzw.   (ebd. 11), sowie eine aus Gorgippeia aus der zweiten Hälfte des 4. Jh. v. Chr.:  e (ebd.  1114). Dazu kommen noch das Weihgraffito aus dem 5. Jh. v. Chr.      , gefunden in Borysthenes (Yailenko 1982, 225, Abb.  100; 290, Nr. 100 = SEG XXXII 741; hier Abb. 3), und auch zwei aus Kerkinitis, etwa aus der gleichen Zeit: A  und A  (Kutajsov 1992, 46, Photographie; ders. 2002, 85; 273, Abb. 70: 1–2; 275, Abb.  72: 1–2; hier Abb. 4). Schließlich ist noch eine 11

Die von den Götterepitheta abgeleiteten Namen sind schon seit archaischer Zeit belegt, s. Bechtel 1917, 569 ff. 12 Nach Rusyaeva, die (wie auch viele andere) nicht erkannt hat, daß  (bzw. ) nur eine Ableitung von einem Ortsnamen  ist, handelt es sich angeblich um eine ionische Apaturiengottheit. 13 Die Lesung von N. P. Rozanova mit Korrektur von Ju.  G.  Vinogradov (1997, 505), s. Treister 1990, 37 ff. mit Lit. 14 Zur Lesung und Datierung s. Tokhtasev 2005, 7 ff.; 2004, 157  ff.; 2006, 24 ff.; Zavoikin 2004, 150 ff.

Abb. 4. Graffiti aus Kerkinitis (nach Kutajsov 1992; 2002) Weihinschrift an Artemis Epheseie auf einem Bronzeleuchter bekannt (Abb.  5), der in Moldawien (Oloneşti) als Teil eines Schatzfundes aus der zweiten Hälfte des 4. Jh.  v.  Chr. entdeckt wurde (Sergeev 1966, 133 f., Abb. 3; Lesung S.  Ja.  Luria und T.  S.  Kaukhchischvili); das Weihgeschenk selbst soll ungefähr synchron mit dem Sieb aus Pantikapaion sein. Die Inschrift ist aber paläographisch kaum vor den Anfang des 5. Jh. zu datieren:      (Abb. 6). Leider ist der Herkunftsort unbekannt, am ehsten aber darf man Olbia oder eher Nikonion vermuten.15 Das entscheidende 15

G. P. Sergeev (1966, 134) vermutete, daß der Leuchter aus dem ephesischen Artemision stammen könnte, was aber, wie unten gezeigt werden wird, auszuschließen ist.

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war, wurde deutlich, daß er ebenfalls eine Herkunft dieser Weihgabe aus dem nordpontischen Raum vermutete. Ich habe schon an anderer Stelle vermerkt (Tokhtasev 1999a, 168, Anm. 8; 2005, 11), daß die starke Verbreitung des Kultes der Artemis Epheseie im nördlichen Pontosgebiet der Hypothese von N. Ehrhardt (1983, 155) und M.  Ju.  Trejster (1990, 41 ff.), der ihm darin folgt, widerspricht, nach welcher ihr Kult nach Pantikapaion während der ersten Etappe der Kolonisation von den Milesiern oder eher von späteren Epoikoi aus Ephesos (um 540 v. Chr., laut Treister) gebracht worden sei. Nach einer eingehenden Untersuchung dieses Problems kam ich zu folgenden Ergebnissen (Tokhtasev 2005, 7–12): Diese besondere Variante der Epiklese der Artemis von Ephesos, die hinsichtlich ihrer Wortbildung für Götterepitheta außerordentlich selten und im Vergleich mit dem traditionellen  ganz unerwartet ist, hat einst in der Antwort eines Orakels auf die Anfrage eines Bewohners einer nordpontischen Kolonie oder einer Gruppe aus der Metropolis, die sich gerade für das Kolonisationsunternehmen vorbereiteten gestanden. Sowohl  als auch  kann, im Unterschied zu , gut in einen Hexameter eingefügt werden, d.h. in die übliche Versform eines Orakels. Folglich kann das ungewöhliche Suffix des Epithetons mit der metrischen Form seiner Quelle erklärt werden (vgl.  bei Sophokles, o. Anm. 16, und  ( bei Anaxilas, PCG  I 18, S. 285). Wegen der Autorität des Orakels hat sich dieses Epitheton in der Kultpraxis irgendeines nordpontischen Zentrums eingebürgert und sich von dort aus samt dem Kultus schließlich in den anderen dortigen ionischen Kolonien verbreitet. Da uns nun ganz zuverlässig bekannt ist, daß Wechselwirkungen solcher Art im Pontosraum schon während der archaischen Zeit bestanden haben, ist nur noch das Problem zu lösen, aus welchem nordpontischen Zentrum dieser Kult stammte. Leider ist hier, im Gegensatz zu Achilleus und Aphrodite Apaturos, die Situation nicht so sicher entschieden, wobei die Weihung aus Gorgippeia zusätzliche Fragen aufkommen läßt.

Abb. 5. Bronzeleuchter aus Oloneşti (nach Sergeev 1966, 134, Abb. 3)

Abb. 6. Weihinschrift auf einem Bronzeleuchter aus Oloneşti (nach Sergeev 1966, 134, Abb. 3)

4.1. Bekannterweise wurde Gorgippeia unter Leukon  I. an der Stelle des alten Sindikos Limen gegründet, das seinerseits ein Ergebnis der sog. inneren Kolonisation bereits in archaischer Zeit darstellte [s. Ps.-Skymn. 887 ff. Diller  = F 17b Marcotte und unten]. Daraus entsteht nun ein Dilemma: Der Kult der Ephesischen Artemis kam vielleicht erst nach der Gründung Gorgippeias von den bosporanischen Tyrannen aus Pantikapaion; es ist aber auch nicht völlig auszuschließen, daß er bereits den früheren Einwohnern von Sindikos Limen bekannt war, welche diesen von ihrer bosporanischen Mutterstadt ererbt hatten.

Argument dafür ist die charakteristische Form des Epithetons, die außerhalb des nördlichen Pontosgebiet nirgends zu finden ist. Sowohl auf Inschriften als auch in literarischen Quellen lautet der Beiname der Göttin   ‘ephesisch, von Ephesos’ und stellt also das normale Adjektiv mit dem universalen Suffix ᾱ aus dem Stadtnamen  (wie Artemis  aus  usw.) dar.  (