Evidence Combined: Western and Eastern Sources in Dialogue (Melammu Symposia, 11) 9783700185734, 3700185731

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RAIJA MATTILA, SEBASTIAN FINK, SANAE ITO (EDS.)

EVIDENCE COMBINED WESTERN AND EASTERN SOURCES IN DIALOGUE

ÖSTERREICHISCHE AKADEMIE DER WISSENSCHAFTEN PHILOSOPHISCH HISTORISCHE KLASSE SITZUNGSBERICHTE, 920. BAND

MELAMMU SYMPOSIA HERAUSGEGEBEN VON EDITED BY ROBERT ROLLINGER und SIMONETTA PONCHIA

EDITORIAL BOARD: ANN GUNTER (Evanston); JAAKKO HÄMEEN-ANTTILA (Edinburgh); JOHANNES HAUBOLD (Princeton); GIOVANNI BATTISTA LANFRANCHI (Padova); KRZYSZTOF NAWOTKA (Wrocław); MARTTI NISSINEN (Helsinki); BEATE PONGRATZ-LEISTEN (New York); KAI RUFFING (Kassel); JOSEF WIESEHÖFER (Kiel)

BAND 11

RAIJA MATTILA, SEBASTIAN FINK, SANAE ITO (EDS.)

EVIDENCE COMBINED WESTERN AND EASTERN SOURCES IN DIALOGUE

Angenommen durch die Publikationskommission der philosophisch-historischen Klasse der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften: Accepted by the publication committee of the Division of Humanities and Social Sciences of the Austrian Academy of Sciences: Michael Alram, Andre Gingrich, Hermann Hunger, Sigrid Jalkotzy-Deger, Renate Pillinger, Franz Rainer, Oliver Jens Schmitt, Danuta Shanzer, Peter Wiesinger, Waldemar Zacharasiewicz Veröffentlicht mit Unterstützung der Foundation of the Finnish Institute in the Middle East. Published with the Support of The Foundation of the Finnish Institute in the Middle East.

The Melammu Logo was drawn by Rita Berg from a Greco-Persian style seal found on the north-eastern shore of the Black Sea. Cf. Dominique Collon, First Impressions: Cylinder Seals in the Ancient Near East, British Museum Publications, London 1987, seal no. 432. The seal was vectorized by Angela Turri.

Diese Publikation wurde einem anonymen, internationalen Begutachtungsverfahren unterzogen. This publication was subject to international and anonymous peer review. Peer review is an essential part of the Austrian Academy of Sciences Press evaluation process. Before any book can be accepted for publication, it is assessed by international specialists and ultimately must be approved by the Austrian Academy of Sciences Publication Committee. Die verwendete Papiersorte in dieser Publikation ist DIN EN ISO 9706 zertifiziert und erfüllt die Voraussetzung für eine dauerhafte Archivierung von schriftlichem Kulturgut. The paper used in this publication is DIN EN ISO 9706 certified and meets the requirements for permanent archiving of written cultural property.

Alle Rechte vorbehalten. All rights reserved. Copyright © Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften Austrian Academy of Sciences Wien/Vienna 2022 ISBN 978-3-7001-8573-4 Layout: Daniela Seiler, Vienna Printed: Prime Rate, Budapest https://epub.oeaw.ac.at/8573-4 https://verlag.oeaw.ac.at Made in Europe

Content Raija Mattila, Sebastian Fink Introduction: Evidence Combined – Western and Eastern Sources in Dialogue ����������������������������������������������� 9 Claudia Horst Politics and Hybrid Identities – The Greek Theatre in Hellenistic Babylon ���������������������������������������������11 Monika Schuol Two obols for the fare across the Styx. Concepts of the deceased’s journey to the underworld in Greece and Mesopotamia ������������������������������������������������������������������ 27 Julian Degen Planets, Palaces and Empire. Herodotus on Deioces and Ecbatana (Hdt� 1�98–99) ����������������������������� 49 Carlos Cabrera Tejedor The Mazarrón 1 Shipwreck: Construction Details, Original Function and Cultural Affiliation of an Iron Age Boat from the Iberian Peninsula �������������������������������������������������������������������� 83 Barbara Mura Continuity and variability in funerary practices in the Eastern and Western Phoenician world ���������������������������������135 May Haider Trade and exchange between Phoenicia and Greece: the early pottery evidence �����������������������������������������������������������������149 Mary Harlow and Cécile Michel Textiles from Mesopotamia to Greece (3rd millennium BCE – 3rd century CE) ����������������������������������������������������� 171 Barbara Couturaud Dress, Gender and Social Status. Considerations on Garments in Mari (Syria, 25–24th centuries BCE) �����������������������������������������������197

6

Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel Nude Females and Girded Men. Clothes and Gender in Akkadian Literature �����������������������������������������217 Cecilie Brøns What to Wear? Dress-codes in Ancient Greek Sanctuaries �������������������������������������������231 Mait Kõiv Lydia, Phrygia and the Cimmerians: Mesopotamian and Greek evidence combined �������������������������������������261 Adam Howe Gyges Between East and West �����������������������������������������������������������295 Liviu Mihail Iancu The Great Conflict over the Levant (612–562 BC) and its consequences for the Greeks �������������������������������������������������311 Hilmar Klinkott Between wealth and politics Arsames, the prince, satrap and estate-holder ��������������������������������������373 Simonetta Ponchia Reflecting on borders and interconnections in the Mediterranean World: a brief reconsideration of methodological approaches �������������������������393 Krzysztof Nawotka, Piotr Głogowski Epigraphic habit in Western Asia Minor and in the Levant �����������407 Simone Oppen Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions ���������������������������423 Selim Ferruh Adalı A Comparison of Dissimilarity: Lunar Eclipses in the Enuma Anu Enlil and the Malhama of Daniel ����������������������������447 Stéphanie Anthonioz Jerusalem in the Light of Athens or the Missing Link to the Formation of the Pentateuch ��������������������������������������������������465 Agnieszka Wojciechowska Nectanebo II of Greek and Egyptian sources �����������������������������������485

Content Raija Mattila, Sebastian Fink Content Introduction: Evidence Combined – Western and Eastern Sources in Dialogue ����������������������������������������������� 9 Raija Mattila, Claudia Horst Sebastian Fink Introduction: Evidence Combined – Politics and Hybrid Identities – Western andTheatre EasterninSources in Dialogue The Greek Hellenistic Babylon����������������������������������������������� ���������������������������������������������119 Claudia Schuol Horst Monika Politics andfor Hybrid Identities – Styx. Two obols the fare across the The GreekofTheatre in Hellenistic Babylon ���������������������������������������������11 Concepts the deceased’s journey to the underworld in Greece and Mesopotamia ������������������������������������������������������������������ 27 Monika Schuol Two obols for the fare across the Styx. Julian Degen ConceptsPalaces of the deceased’s journey to the underworld Planets, and Empire. in Greece and Mesopotamia ������������������������������������������������������������������ 27 Herodotus on Deioces and Ecbatana (Hdt� 1�98–99) ����������������������������� 49 Julian Degen Carlos Cabrera Tejedor Planets, Palaces1 and Empire.Construction Details, The Mazarrón Shipwreck: Herodotus on Deioces and Ecbatana (Hdt� of 1�98–99) 49 Original Function and Cultural Affiliation an Iron����������������������������� Age Boat from the Iberian Peninsula �������������������������������������������������������������������� 83 Carlos Cabrera Tejedor The Mazarrón Barbara Mura 1 Shipwreck: Construction Details, Original Function and Cultural Affiliationpractices of an Iron Age Boat Continuity and variability in funerary from Iberianand Peninsula �������������������������������������������������������������������� 83 in thethe Eastern Western Phoenician world ���������������������������������135 Barbara Mura May Haider Continuity and variability in funerary Trade and exchange between Phoeniciapractices and Greece: in the Eastern andevidence Western�����������������������������������������������������������������149 Phoenician world ���������������������������������135 the early pottery May Haider Mary Harlow and Cécile Michel Trade and exchange betweentoPhoenicia Textiles from Mesopotamia Greece and Greece: rd rd the millennium early pottery evidence �����������������������������������������������������������������149 (3 BCE – 3 century CE) ����������������������������������������������������� 171 Hedvig Landenius Mary Harlow and Enegren Cécile Michel Barbara Couturaud Textile and Textile Expressions in 2nd TextilesGender from Mesopotamia to Greece Dress, andTool Social Status. Considerations on Garments st rd rd th and 1 Millennium BCE Cyprus............................................................ 177 (3 Mari millennium – 3 centuries century CE) ����������������������������������������������������� 171 in (Syria,BCE 25–24 BCE) �����������������������������������������������197 Barbara Couturaud Dress, Gender and Social Status. Considerations on Garments in Mari (Syria, 25–24th centuries BCE) �����������������������������������������������197

6

Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel Nude Females and Girded Men. Clothes and Gender in Akkadian Literature �����������������������������������������217 Cecilie Brøns What to Wear? Dress-codes in Ancient Greek Sanctuaries �������������������������������������������231 Mait Kõiv Lydia, Phrygia and the Cimmerians: Mesopotamian and Greek evidence combined �������������������������������������261 Adam Howe Gyges Between East and West �����������������������������������������������������������295 Liviu Mihail Iancu The Great Conflict over the Levant (612–562 BC) and its consequences for the Greeks �������������������������������������������������311 Hilmar Klinkott Between wealth and politics Arsames, the prince, satrap and estate-holder ��������������������������������������373 Simonetta Ponchia Reflecting on borders and interconnections in the Mediterranean World: a brief reconsideration of methodological approaches �������������������������393 Krzysztof Nawotka, Piotr Głogowski Epigraphic habit in Western Asia Minor and in the Levant �����������407 Simone Oppen Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions ���������������������������423 Selim Ferruh Adalı A Comparison of Dissimilarity: Lunar Eclipses in the Enuma Anu Enlil and the Malhama of Daniel ����������������������������447 Stéphanie Anthonioz Jerusalem in the Light of Athens or the Missing Link to the Formation of the Pentateuch ��������������������������������������������������465 Agnieszka Wojciechowska Nectanebo II of Greek and Egyptian sources �����������������������������������485

7

Sebastiaan Joosten, Hilmar Klinkott, Simone Oppen, Julian Degen, Martin Lang, Patrick Reinard, Tarek Eltanaihi, Matthieu Ossendrijver, Luigi Turri, Simonetta Ponchia, Adam Howe Monika Schuol, Sebastian Fink, Piotr Głogowski, Mary Harlow, Cécile Michel, Hedwig Landenius Enegren, Krzysztof Nawotka, Agnieszka Wojciechowska, Barbara Mura, May Haider, Carlos Cabrera Tejedor Christoph Schäfer, Raija Mattila, Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel, Barbara Couturaud, Selim Adalı, Helen Dixon, Päivi Miettunen Stéphanie Anthonioz, Claudia Horst, Sanae Ito, Andreas Winkler

7

Sebastiaan Joosten, Hilmar Klinkott, Simone Oppen, Julian Degen, Martin Lang, Patrick Reinard, Tarek Eltanaihi, Matthieu Ossendrijver, Luigi Turri, Simonetta Ponchia, Adam Howe Monika Schuol, Sebastian Fink, Piotr Głogowski, Mary Harlow, Cécile Michel, Hedwig Landenius Enegren, Krzysztof Nawotka, Agnieszka Wojciechowska, Barbara Mura, May Haider, Carlos Cabrera Tejedor Christoph Schäfer, Raija Mattila, Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel, Barbara Couturaud, Selim Adalı, Helen Dixon, Päivi Miettunen Stéphanie Anthonioz, Claudia Horst, Sanae Ito, Andreas Winkler

Introduction: Evidence Combined – Western and Eastern Sources in Dialogue Raija Mattila, Sebastian Fink The Melammu Project investigates topics that are situated at the crossroads of the academic disciplines of Assyriology, Ancient History, Old Testament Studies and Egyptology� Lebanon is a country that is regarded with deep interest by all these disciplines devoted to the study of the ancient world� Lebanon has always been a connecting hub between different worlds due to its geographical location and the famous Lebanese cedars that provided the merchants of Lebanon with the main material for their ships that traversed the Mediterranean, connecting the far West with the Empires of the Near East� Beirut can therefore be regarded as the perfect place for a Melammu Symposium� Despite all the problems in the area, many scholars took the chance to attend the first Melammu Symposium in the Middle East and the program contained no less than 28 lectures� The event was hosted by the Finnish Institute in the Middle East and the American University of Beirut, and the academic program came to a close with a one-day trip to Tyre, sponsored by the Finnish Institute. The Symposium consisted of four thematic sessions and a general session� Session 1 “Cuneiform Documents and Hellenistic History in Dialogue” was organized by Monika Schuol and Christoph Schäfer, and the four papers presented in this session demonstrated how our knowledge of Hellenistic history and culture can be improved by setting the sources into a fruitful dialogue� Session 2 “Astrology, Astronomy and Omina” was organized by Matthieu Ossendrijver and Robert Rollinger. The papers here discussed political, historical as well as technical aspects of Mesopotamian Astronomy and Astrology� Session 3 was a young researcher workshop and was dedicated to the “Phonecians as Mediators between the East and West” organized by Helen Dixon and Lucy Semaan. The papers had a strong archaeological focus

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Raija Mattila, Sebastian Fink

and discussed several kinds of material evidence for the presence and role of the Phoenicians in the Mediterranean, putting them into dialog with textual sources according to the general outline of the Symposium. As Phoenician textiles, and especially Tyrian purple, were so famous throughout antiquity, we decided to include a session on “Textiles”. Mary Harlow and Cécile Michel organized this session which gave a wonderful overview of the importance of textiles from 3rd millennium Mari to the Greek world� The call for papers for the general session resulted in so many interesting and high-quality abstracts that we decided to change our original plans and extend the general sessions to a whole day. Altogether eleven papers were presented there which made use of combined evidence in order to discuss questions of Mediterranean history� The use of combined evidence, the idea of putting Western and Eastern sources in dialogue, was an obvious necessity for scholars studying the history of areas like the Lebanon which are situated between the classical world, Egypt, Mesopotamia and Asia Minor� Numerous kinds of sources written in many different languages have to be analyzed in order to get an appropriate picture of the history of this area. It was for this reason that we called for talks on the challenge of a combined use of sources, as such an approach is a challenge to established patterns of academic traditions� While new study programs can overcome this problem to some extent, one of the goals of Melammu was to bring experts together and raise awareness for the expertise and the data that is available in other fields. While co-authored papers are the norm in natural sciences, they are still somewhat uncommon in the humanities; but for studies between the established fields such cooperation would be a fruitful way to overcome these borders created—if we leave ideologies aside for one moment—by the time-consuming task of learning ancient scripts and languages� While many good initiatives are on the way to making all kinds of sources more accessible, dialogue between academic fields and therefore between scholars is a necessity if we want to create new insights by combining evidence� At the end of this symposium we had the impression that our expectations had worked out and that an open and friendly atmosphere characterized the whole event. We hope that this was only the first of many Melammu symposia in the Middle East and that such dialogue between different fields and different research traditions will continue.

Politics and Hybrid Identities – The Greek Theatre in Hellenistic Babylon Claudia Horst

Introduction The early Hellenistic period saw the construction of a Greek theatre at Babylon that became known not as a performance venue for dramas, but as a political space where the politai of the city assembled� In research, this theatre has even been described as the first place of assembly in the Ancient Near East: “[���] There is no evidence [���] for public squares [���] nor indeed for any kind of formal civic space comparable to the Greek agora or the Roman forum, at least until the Hellenistic era when the Greek theatre in Babylon served also as a place of assembly�”1 This statement has been qualified by recent investigations that have brought to light places of assembly not only in Greece but also in Mesopotamia� The question concerning whether public places in which people could assemble also existed in Mesopotamia has recently drawn attention to streets and their extension into squares, especially the broad streets allegedly mainly used for processions in the big cities which were extended into larger open spaces at crossroads, city gates, palaces or the entrances to important buildings such as temples or smaller sanctuaries�2 Particularly significant was, for example, the square before the city gates that could be used as a market place or as a place for civic assembly�3

1

2 3

Baker, 2009: 96� Heather D� Baker focusses especially on the street network as public space. As the following section will explain in more detail, there was a close connection between streets and squares, which needs to be kept in mind in this context. Steinert, 2011: 317 and 331� Cogan, 2001: 487: “The cramped city streets and quarters could not accommodate large gatherings, and the only open space was to be found just inside the city gate or, better yet, outside it; such tracts served as the market and the place of assembly�”

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Claudia Horst

The following article will not deal with the question as to how the Greek theatre differed from these other places of assembly known in Mesopotamia. Instead, the question to be answered is whether the Greek theatre at Babylon was indeed a place reserved for resident Greeks and Hellenized Babylonians� And in fact, these two questions are similar in that both implicitly contain the assumption that the theatre and the connected assemblies are a distinguishing feature of Greek culture� Scholarly literature has taken the construction of the theatre as evidence for an existing ethnic and political division between Greeks and Babylonians. It has been assumed that the Hellenistic rulers created the theatre to counterbalance the local administration in Babylon that was represented by the šatammu, the chief of the temple assembly� Although the strong intercultural relationships and hybrid structures of Hellenistic Babylonian society have often been noted in scholarship, its political culture is still thought of in terms of parallel, conflicting systems. This conceptual difference is substantiated primarily by pointing to the “Astronomical Diaries” which report that letters of the kings were delivered first in the theatre in front of the politai and then to the šatammu of the Esagila in the bīt milki, which was the council house� Based on this apparent institutional divide, van der Spek has even spoken of a political apartheid prevailing in Babylon�4 Philippe Clancier, who criticized the idea of two different ethnic and political groups, has stressed only recently that there was a major shift of political power during the reign of Antiochos IV from the Esagila and the ancient local nobility to the puliṭê / politai, “who were part of a new political structure that can be called the polis of Babylon”5� The Esagila remained existent but with less political power. To refine our grasp of the different institutions, the following essay will start with a short description of the Greek theatre and with the question if the performance of drama was also taking place in the theatre alongside its political functions� This chapter will be followed by an outline of the hybrid forms of interaction within society. In this context, the terracotta figurines that shed light on the social and political mentality are especially revealing� The third part of the essay will then pursue the question whether there was also a formation of hybrid structures in the political sphere� Based on these considerations, the closing remarks will analyse the political function of the theatre within a hybrid society�

4 5

van der Spek, 2001: 453� See also idem, 2009: 107� Clancier, 2017: 1–35, 21, see also 19�

Politics and Hybrid Identities - The Greek Theatre in Hellenistic Babylon

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1. The Greek Theatre in Babylon It is generally agreed that the theatre in Babylon was first built in the early Hellenistic period, before being rebuilt in the 2nd century BC and again in the 2nd century AD� According to van der Spek, it seems likely that the building was erected under Alexander, Antigonus or Seleucus I before 300 BC and rebuilt under Antiochus IV.6 The Greek theatre, situated in the East of Babylon near the inner city wall, is part of a group of artificial mounds of broken brick mainly from the great sanctuary Etemenanki that Alexander had intended to rebuild. For that purpose, he had the ruins levelled, with the rubble forming the mounds of Homera upon which the theatre was later built� As we know from Strabo, Alexander paid 600.000 day wages to have the rubble dragged from the Etemenanki to Homera�7 The name Homera was associated in Arabic with the reddish colour of the bricks� The theatre had been constructed on the southern mound of Homera� Initially, the bricks were used for the foundation of the auditorium. As the mound was not high enough to support the upper parts of the auditorium, a support wall of mudbrick was built for the upper tiers, which is no longer visible today. Of the seats only the lower five benches including the footrests are preserved� Nine narrow staircases with steps only two courses high separate the Kerkides from each other� The middle staircase, which is broader than the other staircases, leads to the proëdreia, a box reserved for privileged people, presumably the priest of Dionysos. Between the first row of seats and the edge of the orchestra, which was slightly larger than a semicircle, a row of about ten statue pedestals with white plaster is preserved� As for the stage building, none of the scaenae frons remains, though a large complex containing several flights of rooms grouped around a peristyle borders on it towards the south� The close link between the theatre and the nearby palaestra further contributes to the impression that this ensemble provided a space for political, intellectual and athletic activities�8 Although there are no literary sources that attest to the performance of dramas in the Greek theatre at Babylon, there are some indicators that the theatre was also used for this purpose� A Greek dedicatory inscription

6 7 8

van der Spek, 2009: 110� Strabo 16,1,5. Koldewey, 1925 (reprint 1981): 301. See also Potts, 2011: 240. Koldewey, 1925 (reprint 1981): 293–299; Potts, 2011: 240–245.

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Claudia Horst

found near the auditorium makes it seem extremely likely that plays were staged at Babylon, since the stage building is explicitly mentioned. According to the inscription, it was a certain Dioskourides who probably rebuilt the theatre and the stage building�9 Concerning the question of whether the theatre was used for performances, the semantic field of the word that is used to denote the theatre in Akkadian is particularly revealing� The Akkadian term bīt tāmartu (É IGI.DU8�MEŠ), attested in the astronomical diaries, is derived from the verb amāru, “to watch”, “to see”. The expression bīt tāmartu can therefore be translated as “house of observation” or “house of watching”, which is an almost literal translation of the Greek term theatron, meaning a “place for seeing”�10 Although the Greek sources do not mention the theatre explicitly, they at least indicate a widespread acquaintance with the various contents of Greek drama in the Ancient Near East, which can in turn be taken as evidence for the assumption that the performance of dramas was taken for granted. A frequently debated textual source that seems to shed some light on this question is the biography of Marcus Licinius Crassus written by Plutarch. He describes a meeting between the Parthian king Orodes II and the Armenian king Artavasdes that took place immediately after Crassus’ campaign against the Parthians and his defeat at Carrhae. During their conversation the kings allegedly discussed various tragedies, and Plutarch even mentions that Artavasdes wrote tragedies himself. It is also astonishing that a performance of Euripides’ Bacchae was being rehearsed when the messenger arrived with the news of the Romans’ defeat.11 In the book “On the fortune of Alexander”, Plutarch confirms again that some knowledge about Greek drama was prevalent in the East: “When Alexander civilised Asia, Homer became common reading, and the sons of Persians, Susians and Gedrosians learned to intone the tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides�”12 Finally, the archaeological sources are revealing in this context too. Especially the theatrical masks found in houses and graves in Babylon, Seleucia and Uruk provide some indication of the popularity of the theatre� The Silenus-Satyr mask and older Babylonian demon masks were

9 10 11 12

Koldewey, 1925 (reprint 1981): 293; Potts, 2011: 245. Potts, 2011: 246. Plut. Crassus 33, 1–5. Plut. On the fortune of Alexander, 328. Potts, 2011: 239.

Politics and Hybrid Identities - The Greek Theatre in Hellenistic Babylon

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particularly widespread� While these masks found in private houses surely also had an apotropaic function, this does not preclude their relation to the context of theatres and performances. The ritual context of theatrical masks rather reminds us that in neither Greece nor Mesopotamia were drama and ritual wholly separate� “Greek plays were performed during religious and political festivals, while Mesopotamian rituals featured singing, dancing and jesting�”13 Further evidence comes from a wide range of figurines of performers found in houses, particularly musicians and dancers�14 Against this background, it seems unlikely that the theatre was an isolated cultural space reserved only for the Greeks. Imagining Babylonians and Greeks listening to and watching Philoctetes or Antigone is by no means but a whimsical fantasy�15 The political function of the theatre, which will be discussed in the last section, is much better attested than its cultural purpose� From eight astronomical diaries extending from 162 to 82 BC we know that the theatre served as the venue for the assembly of the politai, which was, however, not an exception. According to Frank Kolb, the Greek theatre had presumably always been a place where the assembly met in order to hold consultations and pass resolutions�16 2. Hellenistic Babylon – An Intercultural Society Before I explain the political functions of the theatre in more detail, I will briefly outline the hybrid forms of interaction we can observe in Babylonian society� While the political sphere has been seen as characterized by a divide between Greek and Babylonian institutions, the society at large appears as a multicultural system encompassing Babylonians, Greeks, Macedonians and Jews� The main evidence for intercultural blending is provided by the frequently attested name changes documented on cuneiform tablets� During the Seleucid period some people adopted Greek personal names, often in addition to their Babylonian names� The use of double names, however, has so far only been attested in cuneiform documents at Uruk. Besides the political practice of name-giving by kings, the other main

13 14 15 16

Ristvet, 2014: 260–261. Ristvet, 2014: 261. Potts, 2011: 248. Kolb, 1981: 90�

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Claudia Horst

way of acquiring a Greek name consisted, as elsewhere, in the parents choosing Greek names for their children, or in the voluntary assumption of such a name in order to preserve or acquire political rank� Marriages, in which one partner has a Babylonian and the other a Greek name, argue against ethnic boundaries. One famous example comes from Uruk where Anu-uballiṭ/Kephalon, šatammu of the temples of Uruk, married a woman who bore a Greek name and whose father also had a Greek name�17 However, the degree to which an individual had been assimilated into another culture cannot be gauged solely on the evidence of nomenclature� A further small but interesting indication of borrowing from traditional Babylonian practices in documentation is a clay tablet that was used for recording a traditionally Greek type of document, a list of ‘winners’ of athletic competitions�18 Finally, the tablet reveals the operation of a gymnasium in Babylon�19 It has also been argued that the area known as Homera, where the Greek theatre and the palaistra were situated, was the hub of the Greek community, but there is scant evidence for this� The discovery of a house with a Neo-Babylonian plan in this area speaks against the idea of a clear dividing line between the two communities�20 From Seleucia on the Tigris, buildings are known that show both Greek and Mesopotamian elements� Some façades of buildings were articulated in niches and pillars, still following the Mesopotamian tradition, while at least one private house had a courtyard and inner portico with columns between half-pillars in the Hellenistic style�21 Finally, the fundamental topography of Seleucia also exhibited hybrid features. The city appeared Greek insofar as it was built following the so-called “Hippodamian plan”� However, typical for Mesopotamian cities but an uncommon feature for a Greek Hippodamian layout, was a large canal, flowing westwards and dividing the city grid into two halves�22 As only a few Greeks seem to have settled in Babylonian towns and visited them mainly for business, there was no deep impact of Greek culture on the monumental, symbolic forms of architecture, on

17 18 19 20 21 22

Kuhrt / Sherwin-White, 1993: 151–153; Clancier, 2017: 15� Kuhrt / Sherwin-White, 1993: 158; Clancier, 2017: 3� Kuhrt / Sherwin-White, 1993: 157� Kuhrt / Sherwin-White, 1993: 156� Messina, 2011: 160� Messina, 2011: 159�

Politics and Hybrid Identities - The Greek Theatre in Hellenistic Babylon

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the way of life or on Babylonian institutions�23 In the next part, I will further demonstrate that even the theatre was not pure Greek but rather a hybrid monument� A further source capable revealing the existence of hybrid structures within society are the pottery finds, especially the terracotta figurines that could reflect various elements of different cultures. As figurines were cheap and easy to make, unlike other art forms, they could reach a wide audience. Because new figurines were constantly being made, their styles and motifs could potentially respond to changes in cross-cultural interactions very rapidly�24 Whereas earlier interpretations of Greek and Babylonian elements in the figurines often divided the objects by the extent to which they were more faithful to Greek or Babylonian culture, postcolonial studies have since challenged the reductionist approach by considering them hybrid forms and the result of cultural interaction� In this view, the elements selected from the different cultures were not chosen at random but were rather purposefully interrelated to create new cultural meaning�25 As Stephanie M� Langin-Hooper has shown, naked and bearded male figurines usually identified with Heracles were particularly popular and fashionable in Hellenistic Babylonia�26 It is remarkable, however, that only certain elements such as the lion pelt and the club consistently appear in Hellenistic Babylonian figurines, whereas other attributes of Heracles, such as the Apples of the Hesperides or the more ubiquitous Late Classical and Hellenistic Greek focus on the so called “Resting Heracles” with his head turned down as an expression of his exhaustion and vulnerability, had little or no resonance in the Babylonian tradition� The lion pelt and the club were more common than other attributes, since they could recall other images of the lion hunt which were widespread in Mesopotamia� Monumental images of lion-hunting men also survived into the visual world of Hellenistic Mesopotamia, not only on reliefs but also on seals which were decisive media for the circulation of these images. In Hellenistic Babylonia these nude male figurines became hybrid objects, insofar as they could be viewed by some

23 24 25 26

Kuhrt / Sherwin-White, 1993: 159� Langin-Hooper, 2014: 457–458� Langin-Hooper, 2014: 455–457� Langin-Hooper, 2014: 465–474�

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people as “Heracles”, while others related them to Mesopotamian history, myth, and kingship�27 As archaeological research has shown, fighting against wild animals signified more than just triumphant victory over enemies. Such animals could also represent ideational concepts, such as authoritarian ambitions, a ruler had to domesticate if he wanted to conform to the ideal of a good king�28 The same notion is expressed by the fight of Gilgamesh and Enkidu against the Bull of Heaven depicted in the Epic of Gilgamesh, and in the context of Greek mythology by the triumph over the Minotaur frequently represented in Greek literature and on Greek vases� Heracles, too, had to struggle through numerous battles before being able to recognize that a good ruler proves his identity not through power but through deeds performed in the common interest. In the same manner as Gilgamesh, Heracles could provoke reflections on fundamental political problems�29 The naked figurines equipped with lion pelt and club were presumably so very popular in Hellenistic Babylon because they were able to generate associations with both Greek and Babylonian history� They could also further encourage broader debates about the prevailing power structures, as the next section will show. 3. Politics and Hybridity That hybrid structures were not confined to the social sphere, but bled into the political, shall be demonstrated in this section by considering how the Seleucid kings represented themselves and how they were perceived by others� As is known from a range of cuneiform tablets and foundation cylinders, the Seleucids were addressed with the traditional Akkadian title šarru, while they described themselves as basileis on their coins in the Greek tradition�30 It was Antiochus, the half-Greek and half-Iranian son of Seleucus, who was known for his particular respect for local traditions and institutions� Under his patronage the ancient Mesopotamian records and texts, kept

27 28

29 30

Langin-Hooper, 2014: 471–474� Ataç, 2010: 275: “By conquering the wild animal, the king is in a way conquering his own evil, and emerging as the [���] true king�” Horst, 2015: 26–28, 55–59� Messina, 2011: 157�

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in the archives of the old sanctuaries, were systematically collected by Berossos in order to write a history of Babylonia not in Akkadian but in Greek� Antiochus was also represented as a basileus on coins, while he undertook the traditional duties of Babylonian kings at the same time, such as the restoration of sanctuaries and patronage of the priests. In this context, Vito Messina refers to the royal iconography that also renders hybrid structures visible. For example, the coins and seals minted during the reign of Antiochus represent his father Seleucus I in Greek style, but with a bull-horned portrait� This portrayal also aimed to depict Antiochus and his father as legitimate successors of the Babylonian kings� Because of his open-minded attitude toward the Mesopotamian culture, Antiochus was the first ruler who was denoted as šarru rabû, šar kiššati, šar Bābili or as zānin Esagila u Ezida. The honorific title “Caretaker of the Esagila and the Ezida” especially emphasizes his recognition by the local elites who were in contact with the kings through the temple-institutions�31 Another indication of borrowing from Babylonian traditions was the Seleucids’ continued use of Achaemenid palaces� The court was itinerant, like that of the Achaemenids, so the Seleucids used several cities as ‘capitals’� Before the foundation of Seleucia on the Tigris, Seleucus I used the palace in Babylon� The Seleucids did not reject this heritage, as the palace in Ai Khanoum clarifies. From the first building phase, which reached its peak in the early second century, the palace was Persian in plan.32 How reliant the Seleucid kings were on societal acceptance is elucidated by the Akītu Festival that took place twice a year, but also by the king’s ritual humiliation that was celebrated in this context. The aim of the ritual was to re-establish and confirm kingship.33 While the Akītu Festival is already attested in the middle of the third millennium, it has been assumed that the humiliation ritual was a Seleucid innovation. From the sources, we only know that Antiochus III took part in the Akītu Festival when he was visiting the Esagila temple on the 6th of April 205 BC. In the course of the festival the king adjourned to the Esagila temple on the day after the equinox, where the šešgallu-priest removed his royal regalia, including sceptre, ring, divine arms and tiara� The high priest then struck the king’s cheek for the first time, guided him into the cella, and had him swear the so-called “negative confession of sins”:

31 32 33

Messina, 2011: 164–165� Kuhrt / Sherwin-White, 1991: 75–76� Kuhrt / Sherwin-White, 1993: 135� Kuhrt / Sherwin-White, 1993: 131�

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Claudia Horst

I have not sinned, Lord of all Lands! I have not neglected your divinity! I have not ruined Babylon! I have not ordered its dissolution! I have not made Esagila tremble, I have not forgotten its rituals! I have not struck the cheek of those under my protection! I have not humiliated them! I honoured Babylon and I have not destroyed its walls!34 After this avowal, the high priest returned the king’s insignia and slapped him again� The way in which the king reacted to this humiliation seems have held oracular significance. If the king wept it meant that Marduk would continue to favour him and the city for another year� This act of ritual humiliation therefore not only reaffirmed the relationship between the king and the highest god but also that between the king and the citizens�35 Although the people were not allowed to enter Marduk’s cella, they could take part in the ritual humiliation symbolically� One day before the equinox was celebrated during the festival, artisans fashioned figurines that were seven fingers high, dressed in red, and had their right hand raised in prayer to the god Nabû. In their left hand they held a snake and a scorpion. Two days after the equinox, a priest slapped the figures and threw them into the fire to be purified. This act, echoing the king’s ritual humiliation, enabled the people to understand that the king was committed to the city and that his power was beholden to other authorities�36 At this point, one will recall not only the figurines mentioned in the previous chapter but also the political functions of the so-called Heracles-figurines. Just as the fight against wild animals could symbolically depict the necessity to domesticate authoritarian ambitions, the king’s humiliation during the Akītu Festival could have the function of cautioning the king against the consequences of autocratic conduct� Against the background of the previous remarks, some institutional procedures that concerned the Hellenistic ruler is now to be investigated�

34

35 36

Transl. Ristvet, 2015: 154. Akkadian text: Linssen, 2004: 223, lines 423-428: 423[ul aḫ]ṭu EN KUR.KUR ul e-gi ana DINGIR-ti-ku 424[ul ú-ḫa-a]l-liq Eki ul aq-ṭa-bi BIR- šú 425 [ul ú-ri]b-bi É�SAG�GÍL ul ú-ma-áš-‹ši› ME-šú 426[ul am-da]ḫ-ḫa-aṣ TE lúṣab-bi kidin-nu 427[… ul] áš-kun qa-lal-šú-nu 428[ú-pa-a]q ana Eki ul a-bu-ut šal-ḫu-šú. See also Ristvet, 2014: 262–265. Ristvet, 2014: 262–264; Ristvet, 2015: 154. Ristvet, 2015: 154–155.

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As I mentioned earlier, the kings had their messages read both in the Greek theatre and in the temple� Based on the inference that the kings therefore had to deal with two different political systems, it has further been assumed that a system of political apartheid prevailed at Babylon� This interpretation is based on the astronomical diaries�37 They tell us: “[That month, nth day] a messenger of the king, who carried a parchment letter, entered Babylon� That day the letter of the king, which was written to the governor (epistates) of Babylon and the politai who are in Babylon, was read in the theatre, […]”�38 The diary then continues as follows: “[the Elamite enemy(?) I seized. That day, the šatammu of Esagila and the Babylonians (of) the kiništu of Esagila, provided one bull and two sheep at the Gate of the Son of the Prince of Esagila for that messenger of the king as offering, and to Bel [and Belti]a, the great gods, he sacrificed them. […] … a message? of the king was read� That month there was plundering by the Arabs as before�”39 How the group of the politai that assembled in the theatre was composited is not known� Nevertheless, it is unlikely that the group consisted only of Greeks� As many Babylonians had adopted Greek names or Akkadian-Greek names in the meantime, the group of the politai could also have consisted exclusively or partly of Hellenised Babylonians. Nevertheless, the politai were a separate group within the Babylonian community, as is clear from the language used to describe them� The word puliṭê is the cuneiform writing for politai� As this is a Greek word used in an Akkadian context, these persons were not simply Babylonian citizens, the bābilāya, but probably “citizens by Greek law”� The frequently used addendum “puliṭê ša ina Bābili,” politai who were in Babylon, is another indication that the politai were a separate group, not necessarily in ethnic, but presumably in legal terms�40

37 38

39

40

van der Spek, 2001: 451–453� Transl. van der Spek, 2001, 452. Akkadian Text: AD III, 278, No. -124 B ‘Rev’: 17; Del Monte, 1997: 142 (Month X 187 SE = 6 Jan� - 4 Feb� 124 BC): 17’[…] lúKIN.GI4�A LUGAL šá kušSARmeš na-šu-ú ana Eki KU4ub UD BI kušSARmeš [LUGA]L šá ana muḫ-ḫi lú pa-ḫat Eki u lúpu-li-te-e šá ina Eki SARmeš ina É IGI.DUḪ.A 19’ [x x] x x x aṣ-bat UD BI lúŠÀ�TAM É�SAG�GÍL u lúEki�meš lúUKKIN šá É�SAG�GÍL 1e[n GUD] ù 2 SISKUR.SISKUR ina KÁ DUMU NUN.NA šá É�SAG�GÍL ana lúKIN.GI4�A LUGAL MUa-tì ŠUK.dINANNA GUBmeš-niš-šú ana dEN 20’[dGAŠAN-i]á DINGIRmeš GALmeš DÙuš [x] E?ki? KIN?.GI4 LUGAL GÙ.DÉú ITU BI SA[Rtú lú]ar-ba-a-a GIM IGIú Boiy, 2004: 206�

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The position of the pāḫāt Bābili, who managed the group of the politai, was probably limited to the city of Babylon� According to van der Spek, the function of the pāḫāt Bābili in the Hellenistic period was identical to that of the epistates who ensured that local decisions did not contradict the king’s wishes and demands�41 But this idea remains hypothetical as we currently do not know what the pāḫāt Bābili was called in Greek� AD 3 -129 and AD 3 -77 explicitly mention that the king appointed someone from the politai as pāḫāt Bābili. This means that the official was a local inhabitant belonging to the group of the politai�42 As it is not clear how the group of the politai was composed, one cannot rule out the possibility that Babylonians could assume the office of the pāḫāt Bābili. The office was, after all, already known during the Old-Babylonian period� The bēl pīḫāti, originally a lower official, acted from the middle of the eighth century BC onwards as ‘province governor’�43 The local administrative body that the kings addressed in their letters was responsible for the administration of not only the city but also the most important temple� The body in question was the kiništu (ukkin) of the Esagila, the temple council managed by a šatammu, a high priest and chief administrator�44 As the astronomical diaries tell us, the kiništu of the Esagila was seated in the bīt milki, a council house that was situated in the juniper Garden of the Esagila complex.45 This institution was designated by the following formula: “(PN) lúšà� tam é.sag.íl u lúeki�meš lúukkin šá é.sag.íl” (PN) šatammu of Esagila and the Babylonians, the temple council of Esagila”. Van der Spek translated lúeki� meš lú ukkin šá é.sag.íl as a construct chain: “the Babylonian citizens of the kiništu of Esagila”�46 In contrast to van der Spek, Tom Boiy interprets “lúukkin šá é.sag.íl” as an apposition to “lúeki�meš” meaning “the Babylonians, the temple council of Esagila” as in other contexts “lúukkin šá é.sag.íl” could be omitted, so the temple authority could also be called “the šatammu of Esagila and the Babylonian citizens”� The bābilāya were Babylonian free citizens, equal in law, but with heavy social stratification.47

41 42 43 44 45 46 47

van der Spek, 2009: 108; Boiy, 2004: 205� Boiy, 2004: 205� Boiy, 2004: 204� Boiy / Mittag, 2011: 108� Boiy, 2004: 204� van der Spek, 2001: 450–453� Boiy, 2004: 195�

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Unfortunately, there is also no information in the sources about the composition of the kiništu of Esagila. It is clear from the terminology that only Babylonian citizens (bābilāya) were allowed to be a member of the kiništu, but exactly which persons and how many of them were admitted remains unknown�48 From the so-called Lehmann text it is known that the šatammu, who represented the city vis-à-vis the Seleucid and Parthian authorities, was responsible for defending the interests of the Babylonian citizens� Although the šatammu appears alone in this text, he was not able to operate without the cooperation and approval of the kiništu to reach a legally valid decision. It is possible that the Babylonians, represented by the members of the kiništu of Esagila, had a say in the choice of a new šatammu� For the Hellenistic period, there is only one possible indication of royal interference in the appointment of a šatammu�49 Based on the composition of the two assemblies, it could already be shown that there was no clearly defined ethnic divide between the institutions� This also holds true for the temple assembly as the king as “Caretakers of the Esagila” and the Greeks living in Babylon most probably shared the existing temples—so far there is no evidence of a Greek temple�50 Finally, the stark division between the institutions is also called into question by the architecture of the theatre, which shows an obvious connection to traditional temple structures. In Babylon, the Greek theatre adopted features of religious architecture since it was built with bricks recycled from Etemenanki� The reuse of this material was by no means coincidental but in fact intentional, as bricks bearing the name of Nebuchadnezzar suggest� At the Seleucid court Nebuchadnezzar ranked as a symbolic predecessor� As an empire-builder, he was depicted in this vein by both Megasthenes and Berossos who make him conform to an image the Seleucid kings also claimed for themselves� The cylinder of Antiochus, which is the last known royal building inscription in cuneiform, was presumably produced on the basis of the cylinder of Nebuchadnezzar�51 A similarly close relation between the theatre and the temple can likewise be observed in Seleucia on the Tigris. In Seleucia, there was

48 49 50 51

Boiy, 2004: 203� Boiy, 2004: 202–204� van der Spek, 2009: 110� Ristvet, 2014: 196.

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Claudia Horst

a building very close to the western side of the theatre which must be interpreted as a little Mesopotamian temple consisting of various smaller rooms with altars or basements and a courtyard� Massive mudbrick walls and platforms made up a 13m-high mound which formed the cavea, the circular seating area of the theatre� The place resembled a ziggurat and was initially interpreted as such�52 The mound of Homera in Babylon, upon which the theatre was built, might also have sought to evoke this religious form� Although Greek theatres are almost always built into hillsides, in the complex cultural context of Babylon people might have understood this as a blend of Greek and Babylonian forms� “Building the theatre with bricks from the Esagila may have connected this construction with that temple, perhaps linking Babylon’s two civic spaces�”53 The Seleucid changes to the temple’s architecture also suggest attempts at merging Greek and Babylonian traditions. In general, the temple became larger, especially as far as the temple court is concerned, opening up space for assemblies of the people� Although the spaces in front of temples had already been used for this purpose many centuries ago, the purposeful development of these spaces would have served to attach higher importance to the visibility of assemblies�54 Conclusion As the previous remarks have shown, there were two institutions in Babylon that opened up space for political assemblies and were used by the kings to communicate with the inhabitants of Babylon. In order to discuss the validity of the hypothesis that the existence of multiple assemblies indicates a system of political apartheid, the analysis first had to canvas the situation in Babylonian society� At this level, the figurines in particular revealed that the society of Hellenistic Babylon saw the emergence of numerous hybrid structures� Although this speaks against an ethnic divide, the figurines did not create any new cultural meaning that operated completely beyond the old differences. Instead, the so-called Heracles-figure could evoke both Babylonian and Greek narratives and myths, keeping both traditions alive�

52 53 54

Messina, 2011: 161� Ristvet, 2014: 260. Ristvet, 2015: 260.

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The narratives connected to the Heracles-figure are further unified by their particular interest in the criticism of authoritarian ambitions and could therefore provide an incentive for political discussions� The kings were forced to respond to this criticism, just as they had to address the social tensions that emerged not only between Greeks and non-Greeks, but also between Babylonians and Hellenized Babylonians, in order to gain social and political influence. As I exemplified using the king’s ritual humiliation during the Akītu Festival, authoritarian ambitions were effectively curbed by these measures, urging the king to respect the interests of the Babylonian people. It was not possible for the kings to react to such cultural differences with top-down politics. In the colonial perspective, Hellenism was interpreted as a blessing and a political mechanism for unifying differences� This view was fundamentally challenged by postcolonial studies paying more attention to precisely these differences� The aim of Seleucid politics was not to overcome cultural or political differences or to strengthen the role of the politai towards the Esagila assembly� That the kings, or rather their messengers, had to utilize two different spaces—the theatre and the bīt milki—in order to address the people, rather demonstrates that the king was expected to respect different cultures and to join them at the same time, insofar as both institutions could evidently have members with different cultural backgrounds� The institutional conduct of the kings, their self-representation, and the ways in which they were perceived all illustrate that hybrid structures existed not only within society, but also in politics� The aim of Seleucid politics was not to establish or manifest Greek superiority, but to display and manage social and political diversity�

Bibliography Ataç, M., 2010: “Representations and Resonances of Gilgamesh in Neo-Assyrian Art”. In H. U. Steymans (ed.), Gilgamesch. Ikonographie eines Helden� Fribourg / Göttingen. Pp. 261–286� Baker, H. D., 2009: “A Waste of Space? Unbuilt Land in the Babylonian Cities of the First Millenium BC”. Iraq 71, 89–98� Boiy, T�, 2004: Late Achaemenid and Hellenistic Babylon� Leuven et al� Boiy, T. / Mittag, P. F., 2011: “Die lokalen Eliten in Babylon”. In B. Dreyer / P. F. Mittag (eds�), Lokale Eliten und hellenistische Könige. Zwischen Kooperation und Konfrontation. Berlin. Pp. 105–131�

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Clancier, P., 2017: “The Polis of Babylon”. In B. Chrubasik / D. King (eds.), Hellenism and the Local Communities of the Eastern Mediterranean. 400 BCE-250 CE. Oxford. Pp. 1–35� Cogan, M�, 2001: I Kings. A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary� The Anchor Bible 10� New York� Horst, C�, 2015: Demokratie. Macht. Emotion. Der Alte Orient als Vorbild für die Athenische Demokratie� Bielefeld� Kolb, F�, 1981: Agora und Theater, Volks- und Festversammlung� Archäologische Forschungen 9� Berlin� Koldewey, R., 1925 (reprint 1981): Das wieder erstehende Babylon. Die bisherigen Ergebnisse der deutschen Ausgrabungen� Leipzig� Kuhrt, A. / Sherwin-White, S., 1991: “Aspects of Seleucid Royal Ideology. The Cylinder of Antiochus I from Borsippa”. Journal of Hellenic Studies 111, 71–86� Kuhrt, A� / Sherwin-White, S�, 1993: From Samarkhand to Sardis. A New Approach to the Seleucid Empire� London� Langin-Hooper, S. M., 2014: “Terracotta Figurines and Social Identities in Hellenistic Babylonia”. In B. A. Brown / M. H. Feldman (eds.): Critical Approaches to Ancient Near Eastern Art. Boston / Berlin. Pp. 451–479� Messina, V., 2011: “Seleucia on the Tigris. The Babylonian Polis of Antiochus I”. Mesopotamia 46, 157–167� Del Monte, G� F�, 1997: Testi dalla Babilonia Ellenistica, vol� 1�, Testi Cronografici. Roma / Pisa. Potts, D. T., 2011: “The politai and the bīt tāmartu. The Seleucid and Parthian Theatres of the Greek Citizens of Babylon”. In E. Cancik-Kirschbaum / M. van Ess / J� Marzahn (eds�), Babylon. Wissenskultur in Orient und Okzident� Topoi. Berlin Studies of the Ancient World. Berlin / Boston. Pp. 239–251� Ristvet, L., 2014: “Between Ritual and Theatre. Political Performance in Seleucid Babylon”� World Archaeology 46�2, 256–269� — 2015: Ritual, Performance, and Politics in the Ancient Near East� New York et� al� van der Spek, R. J., 2001: “The Theatre of Babylon in Cuneiform”. In W. van Soldt et� al� (eds�): Veenhof Anniversary Volume. Studies Presented to Klaas R. Veenhof on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday. Leiden. Pp. 445–456� — 2009: “Multi-Ethnicity and Ethnic Segregation in Hellenistic Babylon”. In T. Derks / N. Roymans (eds.): Ethnic Constructs in Antiquity. The Role of Power and Tradition. Amsterdam. Pp. 101–115� Steinert, U., 2011: “Akkadian Terms for Streets and the Topography of Mesopotamian Cities”� Altorientalische Forschungen 38�2, 309–347� Thureau-Dangin, F�, 1921: Rituels Accadiens. Paris.

Two obols for the fare across the Styx. Concepts of the deceased’s journey to the underworld in Greece and Mesopotamia Monika Schuol

I. Introduction The use of coins for payment for many in the Ancient World did not stop at death� Aristophanes’ Frogs, first performed in 405 BC and subsequently re-performed, contains an extended discussion of tragedy, dramatic performance, music styles, and the different “fans” in the audience. It starts out with Dionysus, the god of the theater in whose honor the dramatic festivals were staged, attempting to go down to Hades to bring back his favorite tragic poet, Euripides� After listening to Heracles’ instruction to pay Charon two obols for the fare across the Styx, Dionysus responds by extolling the great and universal power of the two obols: 136 …Heracles: That’s a long voyage� 137 First you’ll come to a very large lake 138 of unfathomed depth. Dionysus: Then how will I manage to cross it? 139 Heracles: A very old man will take you across 140 in a little boat no bigger than this, if you pay him a fare of two obols� 141 Dionysus: Wow, what power those two obols 142 have everywhere!1

1

Aristophanes� Frogs (transl� Aristophanes: Halliweill, 2015: 177): 136 ... ΗΡΑΚΛΗΣ. ἀλλ᾽ ὁ πλοῦς πολύς. 137 εὐθὺς γὰρ ἐπὶ λίμνην μεγάλην ἥξεις πάνυ 138 ἄβυσσον. ΔΙΟΝΥΣΟΣ. εἶπα πῶς γε πεπαιωθήσομαι; 139 ΗΡΑΚΛΗΣ. ἐν πλοιαρίῳ τυννουτῳί σ᾽ ἀνὴρ γέρων 140 ναύτης διάξει δύ᾽ ὀβολὼ μισθὸν λαβών. 141 ΔΙΟΝΥΣΟΣ. Φεῦ. ὡς μέγα δύνασθον πανταχοῦ τὼ δύ᾽ ὀβολώ 142 πῶς ᾐλθέτην κἀκεῖσε; ...

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Monika Schuol

The basis for this remark at first seems to revolve around the common practice of placing a coin in the mouth (or near the body) of the corpse before burial to ensure safe passage to the underworld� When the amount for this funerary practice is stipulated, however, it is always one obol� The “two obols” figure would have a contemporary reference to Cleophon’s diobelia welfare fund and to the theorikon (a regular dole to attend public spectacles) or the entrance fees of the theatre of Dionysos� Dionysus’ reference to the “two obols” may have evoked these distributions in the minds of some members of the Athenian audience in 405 BC. Perhaps more importantly, Dionysus’ remark defines the power of the spectators through the finances associated with the theater audience.2 II. The starting point In the following I will contrast the accounts of the money paid to the ferryman Charon for passage over the river Styx into the dreary underworld with the literary and archaeological evidence of money accompanying the corpse to the tomb in other parts of the ancient world�3 My aim with my paper is to investigate if the discoveries of coins in the mouths of skeletons found in Hellenistic Mesopotamia reveal knowledge of the Greek custom of leaving Charon’s coin to pay the ferryman to take the deceased across the river� Bearing in mind that the ferryman of death also appears in Near Eastern mythology, it is the purpose of my paper to investigate if there is any common idea or content, any kind of common denominator, behind the Greek and the Mesopotamian practices which bind them all together� There will therefore be discussion on whether a local feature of Greek burial custom or an indigenous Mesopotamian tradition is reflected there. The outline of this paper is as follows: The Section I gives an introduction to the Greek concepts of the last Journey and the ferryman Charon. Section II presents some reconstructions of burial rites and ideas of the afterlife based on archaeological evidence. Section III deals with Mesopotamian texts referring to crossings of water for reaching the underworld. Section IV recalls Van Gennep’s structural theory of rites of passage which can be seen as the most influential theoretical approach to

2 3

For this passage see Griffith, 2013: 66‒67; Edmonds III, 2004: 121‒125. For the diobelia see Hunn, 2000: 156‒158, 162. Roselli, 2011: 98‒101. On funerary use of coins in antiquity see Stevens, 1991: 215‒229; Morris, 1992: 104‒108.

Two obols for the fare across the Styx.

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the study of transition and initiation, especially after the translation of Les Rites de Passage into English in 1960� III. Charon, the ferryman of the Dead From Homer on we find the motif that it is necessary to travel across a river, or some other body of water, in order to reach the land of the dead� Odysseus has to sail across Oceanus to arrive at Hades� Sappho, Alcaeus, and Aeschylus speak of crossing the Acheron. We do not at first hear anything of the ferryman Charon who conveyed the souls of the newly deceased across the rivers Styx (the river of hate) and Acheron (the river of sorrow) which divide the world of the living from the world of death� Pausanias’s reference to Charon in the epic Minyas in the sixth century as the model for him in Polygnotus’s painting seem to be the oldest testimony, but representations in art (e.g., black figure vase paintings) begin from about 500 BC� Charon appears most often as an old man, frequently with an ugly face and tattered clothes� His ferryboat is small and propelled by a pole and / or oars, although a few testimonies make reference to a sail�4 Charon, in the Frogs, is a gruff old man who responds mechanically to Dionysos’s greeting with a list of the ferry’s destinations, just like any bored modern-day tourist guide who had shown visitors around the same places of interest for years and years� The boatman ferries the dead for a fee to the Underworld where, in addition to the fee paid, Dionysus is also forced to pay in kind, “working” as an oarsman� Although all the literary references (e.g., Strab. 8. 6. 12 [373]; Prop. 5. 11. 7; Iuv. 3. 264‒267; Verg. Aen., 6, 298‒304; Apul. met. 6. 17‒20) are later than the Frogs, the custom of placing low-value coins in graves as passage money across the Styx seems to go back to the beginning of the fifth century.5 While archaeological evidence reveals that coins in graves can vary widely in denomination and quantity, literary references all mention a single small coin, usually a bronze obol, as the appropriate fee�6 Jan Bremer has argued that the development of the myth of Charon, which appears no earlier than the epic of Minyas in the sixth century BC,

4

5 6

For representations of Charon and the underworld as pictorial motifs in Greece and Italy see Sourvinou-Inwood, 1986: 210‒225; Sourvinou-Inwood, 1995: 303‒361; Brandt, 2015: 105‒184. Stevens, 1991: 215‒216. Edmonds III, 2004: 123‒128.

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“implies that the world of the dead was mentally dissociated from the living; death had apparently become less natural, less easy to accept� At the same time, a guide is also someone who knows the way: the need for a reassuring, knowing person is therefore also a sign of an increasing anxiety about one’s own faith after death.”7 Bremer’s point is that a shift occurs from the time of Homer to the fifth century BC, a shift that suggests a growing interest in what happens upon death�8 IV. The archaeological evidence in Mesopotamia In the Ancient Near East the tradition of placing money in the tomb or in the mouth of the deceased, sometimes called “Charon’s obol” or “Charon’s fee”, seems to have been widespread:9 The Iron Age cemetery of Kāmid el-Lōz in the Lebanon dating to the 5th and 4th century BC, revealed a total of eleven Sidonian silver coins, which were perhaps inserted into the mouth of the corpse at the time of interment�10 There is also archaeological evidence for the use of coinage in Phoenician funeral practices of the fifth and fourth centuries BC.11 Graves from the Hellenistic, Parthian and early Roman periods containing coins were discovered in Aššur, Babylon, Nimrud, Nippur and Ktesiphon�12 In the eastern Mediterranean, coins begin to appear in ancient graves within a century after the emergence of coinage in the seventh century BC� One custom—but by no means the only one—was to place a single small coin in the mouth of the deceased� Coins may be found in or near the hands of the deceased, at their feet, or scattered in the grave� Where cremation was the custom, burned coins are sometimes found with the ashes in an urn. In archaeological excavations of pre-Christian Roman cemeteries, coins are typically found in 5 to 15 % of burials�

7 8 9

10 11 12

Bremer, 2002: 5; see also Bremer, 1994: 91‒106, esp. 103‒104. Gilchrist, 2013: 25‒26. I wish to avoid the term “Charon’s obol”, “Charon’s fee” or the like because there is very little evidence for linking together coins placed in graves with the notions of the payment to Charon. Thus, Keld Grinder-Hansen (1991: 215‒216) proposed “that the expression ‘Charon’s fee’ should be removed from the vocabulary of archaeologists and be replaced by the more correct name death-coin, which can stand for a number of different coin uses and notions”, see also Tzifopoulos, 2011: 233� Poppa, 1978: 76. Wolff, 2002: 131‒137, esp. 136. Oettel, 2000: 106‒120, esp. 110‒111.

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Archaeological finds of coins in skulls in two Jewish graves in Jericho and in the Caiaphas family tomb in Jerusalem (“coin-on-eye custom”), explained as payment to Charon for ferrying the deceased across the river Styx, also point to the adoption of Greek ideas in the 1st century AD� It remains uncertain, however, whether such a practice reflects anything other than mere convention�13 This innovation seems to be restricted to burials of the elite. The use of coins in this non-economic context may simply display the wealth of the deceased and / or their heirs� The funerary deposits of coins may be connected to the fashion for the use of stone ossuaries that started with a puzzling suddenness in Jerusalem around the middle of Herod’s reign (c. 20‒15 BC), showing the importation and manifestation of Hellenistic and Roman influence even within priestly circles of the highest rank� However, this pagan practice does not seem to have been a strong part of the Jewish burial ritual�14 Excavations at the northern Mesopotamian site of Tell Mahuz yielded ten silver coins (two of them illegible) all coming from graves�15 Excavations in Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / Magdala, a site located in northeast Syria on the lower Ḫābūr, produced evidence for a similar practice. Of special interest in this study is the latter settlement because excavations in this area uncovered the hitherto largest cemetery of the Arsacid era in North Mesopotamia. The grave findings provide us with some interesting challenges, in particular with respect to burial and grave goods customs. Therefore, I would like to get more into detail here. This expansive burial ground of Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / Magdala dates to the RomanParthian period (covering the time span from the 3rd century BC to the 3rd century AD) and yielded a total of eleven coins (in a total of 732 grave complexes that have been archaeologically excavated and documented). The oldest coin of Arsames II of Sophene, minted around the year 230 BC, marks the beginning of the construction of the Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad cemetery at the turn of the 3rd to the 2nd century BC� A few coins can be attributed to the 1st and 2nd centuries BC, most of which were struck by the emperors of the Severan dynasty and by the soldier-emperors in the 2nd half of the 2nd

13

14 15

Hachlili / Killebrew, 1983: 109‒132, esp. 118 and 128; Greenhut, 1992: 63‒71, esp. 69‒71; Hachlili, 2005: 439, 443 and 511‒512; Evans, 2006: 323‒340, esp. 329 and n. 12 and 13; Schofield, 2009: 236‒249; Fine, 2014: 37‒49, esp. 41; Wenkel, 2017: 59‒61. Tsafrir, 2007: 321‒324; Williams, 2005: 159‒182, esp. 180. Negro-Ponzi, 1970‒1971: 391‒427, esp. 406.

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and in the 1st half of the 3rd centuries�16 Therefore, the habit of placing coins in tombs also seems to be present on the Ḫābūr. It must, however, be taken into consideration that only four graves each produced a single coin� Beyond the time of closure of the grave, a post-sepulchral cult of the dead is subsumable in Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad, naturally also in other Mesopotamian places� Secondary vessels and secondary vessel ensembles were buried after the burial of the body on higher stratigraphic levels above the grave architecture of the closed grave before backfilling the grave. Parallel to the grave vessel sets, torpedo jars with or without covering bowls were predominantly used, sometimes containing small jugs or ladles used for scooping or pouring� The uniform patterns of ensembles of grave vessels and secondary vessels demonstrate that similar ladling and pouring procedures were most likely carried out before and after the burial� The archaeological evidence allows us to reconstruct the burial rites in their chronological order: the activities before death; the lying in state of the dead corpse; the burial itself; the deposition of objects used for various purposes (to help the spirit to reach the underworld and to protect him from danger on his last journey); ancestor worship; and the custom of a secondary funeral burial� As far as the burial customs and the goods of the afterlife suggest, the population of Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad was of Mesopotamian origin and adhered to pre-Hellenistic Mesopotamian traditions� The most striking parallels to the grave types, burial customs and grave goods can be observed in Babylonia and Assyria�17 Therefore, it is likely that older burial grave traditions were maintained during the Arsacid Era, from early Hellenistic to late Parthian times. On the other hand, Dura-Europos and Palmyra show absolutely different structures. Those were never copied in Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad except in the case of some hypogaea and cremation burials�18 The historical context of the cemetery can be outlined as follows. Being part of the Seleucid Empire since 281 BC, the Lower Ḫābūr valley came under the control of the Arsacids in the late 2nd century BC (after the conquest of Dura Europos in 113 BC)� At this time the client states in

16

17 18

For the coins found in the Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad cemetery see Oettel, 2000: 112; Oettel, 2005: 161‒186; Wehry, 2013: 186‒188 and 240. For the dating of the oldest coin from Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad see Schuol, 2014. An overview on Mesopotamian grave types provides Novák, 2000a: 132‒154. Novák, 2000b: 28‒29; Novák / Oettel, 2000: 216‒217 and 226‒227; Wehry, 2013: 50‒51.

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northern Mesopotamia were allowed to organize their trade independently� This led to a flourishing of the economy in those cities which lay on one of the numerous trade routes. One of them was Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad which was situated at an important crossing point at the borders of the Seleucid, Parthian and Roman Empires. Its economic climax was between 175 BC and AD 125� During the second half of the the 2nd century AD the Ḫābūr (since 165 AD) became the border between the Roman and the Parthian Empires and was protected by auxiliary forts. A fortified Roman castrum was probably founded in Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad which may have formed part of this border protection system established in the Ḫābūr area.19 A detachment of Roman soldiers from Dura Europos (Cohors XX Palmyrenorum) coming from different regions within the Roman Empire was perhaps stationed there�20 Indeed, within original burial and grave goods customs in Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad, imports and foreign types are revealed, pointing to Iran as well as to the Hellenistic-Roman influenced Levant through Italy and the Roman northwestern provinces�21 The types of graves and the finds documented in the Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad cemetery illuminate a multicultural site and imperial impacts on daily life in the Ḫābūr area, including the adaptation of foreign elements in funeral rites and practices� But how to explain the habit of placing coins in tombs as attested in Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad? First of all, it should be noted that coins are rare in the Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad cemetery but may be assumed to have been of significance to the deceased and / or to the death ritual. In all layers of classical society, coins showing a portrait were considered as mighty talismans and may have served as symbolic and apotropaic gifts which can protect the buried individual from danger on the last journey� Additionally, coins are perceived as a symbol for the transition from the world of the living to

19

20

21

Novák / Oettel / Witzel, 2000: XXXV‒XXXIX; Wehry, 2013: LXXV‒LXXVI and 276‒282. For the prominent role of Palmyrenes in garrisoning northern Mesopotamian sites see Butcher, 2003: 55‒57. The bronze jug from grave 95/69 and the dagger from grave 95/07 point to the western provinces of the Roman Empire, while idols made from bone, earrings adorned with figures and glazed pottery vessels of the so-called Parthian ware 2 all represent Parthian imports. Cremations and secondary burials as well as the covering of face are often documented in Arsacid Mesopotamia; see Künzl, 2000: 89‒98 and Figs. 440‒442; Kreppner, 2008: 263‒276; Wehry, 2013: LXXVI and 174‒176 (bronze jug); Kreppner, 2014: 171‒186.

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the realm of death22; and, last but not least, coins may stand for the dead’s wealth and financial success. As a result of acculturation, the Greek habit of placing coins in tombs was incorporated into the old Mesopotamian funerary practice; therefore, the Mesopotamian conception of a boatman who ferries new arrivals in the land of the dead across the underworld river can be connected to a similar Greek motif without giving up essential fidelity to the tradition. In my opinion, the archaeological evidence suggests that, in Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad as well as in other Mesopotamian towns with a similar historical background, Greek-Hellenistic customs are combined with old Mesopotamian traditions, irrespective of whether the mortuary numismatic deposits should be associated with the ferryman’s fee or not� V. Mesopotamian Cosmology and myths referring to ferrymen Broadly speaking, ancient conceptions of the afterlife included the notion of the spirit of the dead person crossing a body of water� Water is very often the prescribed passageway by which souls reach the next world. The spirit of the deceased is often said to be poled across a river or acrs an expanse of water by a supernatural helper to whom they owed a payment; or else it is considered that the dead souls have to pass a bridge or struggle through the waves�23 Myths referring to a boatman getting the deceased across a body of water are also known from other parts within the world: Scandinavian and Germanic tribes launched a boat bearing a corpse into the sea to assist the soul in reaching Valhalla, the Land of the Heroes. Judaeo-Christian traditions speak of individuals reaching the promised land by crossing the river Jordan� Jehovah of the Old Testament declares “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you” (Isa 43:2).24

22

23

24

The belief in the magical properties of coins continues despite the advance of Christianity. If coins were founded under a column, in a grave or in a foundation pit, it is evident that they had been intentionally deposited and not lost by accident; for the magical properties ascribed to coins see, e.g., Maguire, 1997: 1037‒1054; Travaini, 2004, 159‒181; Schraven, 2012: 129‒151, esp. 144. For Greek and Mesopotamian burial customs, conceptions of the underworld and ideas of afterlife see Groneberg, 1991: 244‒261; West, 1997: 137‒167; Garland, 22001; Katz, 2003; Cohen, 2005; Katz, 2007: 167‒188; Cooper, 2009: 23‒32; see also Hays, 2011: 34‒56; Greenwood, 2015: 33‒69; Majorek, 2016: 73. 503; Stiebing Jr., 2016: 50. See e�g� Majorek, 2016: 73� 503�

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In several respects, ideas about death and the afterlife in Mesopotamia are perfectly comparable to those throughout most ancient Mediterranean religious cultures� Graves included pottery and various kinds of tools and goods for the deceased to use in the afterlife� The vast majority of ancient Mesopotamian burials reflect an essential equality in the preparation of the dead and therefore point to expectations of about their equal lot in the afterlife� The underworld (kur-nu-gi, kur-nu-gi(4) = kurnugû, erṣet la târi “Earth of no return”) was a place of sadness imagined as dark and cheerless, filled with the flitting shades of the dead. The gods of the underworld, with few exceptions25, are locked there just like deceased human beings, and they cannot travel upwards to the earth or to the heavens to associate with the gods of heaven and earth� The realm of the dead was separated from that of the living by an uncrossable sea or river� A terrifying animated guardian or series of guardians protected the entrance to the underworld, both to keep the living out of the land of the dead or to keep the dead in� Anyone from among the living who might choose to venture into the underworld was in danger of becoming trapped there, subject to the harsh laws of the underworld and unable to return to the land of the living�26 A river is often said to run through or to surround the realm of the dead, serving as a further barrier between its inhabitants and the living� The geographical separation of the dead in the afterlife appears in various texts, but the relative positions of the underworld river, road and gates are not explained in a single text. Sometimes the underworld river, called íd kur-ra íd lú gu7-gu7-e “the river of the netherworld, the man-devouring river” (Enlil and Ninlil 93) in Sumerian documents and Ḫubur in Akkadian sources, is mentioned between a gate-complex belonging to the Anunnaki and the “Gate of the Captives” (bāb kamûti), indicating that this river may flow within a series of gates. In the Babylonian Theodicy the river seems to be located at the

25

26

For these and other names of the underworld see Horowitz, 1998: 276‒278 and index. Only Nergal, the ruler of the underworld, has the unusual divine power to cross the gulf between heaven and the underworld and to pass freely across the different realms� Holland, 2009: 149‒166. Separating the land of the realm of the dead means that the Mesopotamian scribes wrote of a spherical universe that was divided into two hemispheres, each consisting of a dome representing the sky and a plane representing the earth� One hemisphere was occupied by the living and ruled by their deities, while the other was occupied by the death and ruled by another set of deities� The hemispheres were formally linked by gates through which the sun and the moon passed�

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end of the road to the underworld. Since death is inevitable, this text points out that all mankind has to follow this passageway to the Ḫubur: na-a[d]nu-ma ab-bu-nu il-la-ku ú-ru-uḫ mu-ú-t[u]

na-˹a˺-ri ḫu-bur ib-bi-ri qa-bu-ú ul-tu ul-la “Our fathers in fact give up and go the way of death� It is an old saying that they cross the river Ḫubur.”27 This would suggest that perhaps the river flows before the gates. If so, new arrivals into the underworld would have been ferried across the Ḫubur, just as the boatman Charon brings the souls of the dead across the river Styx to Hades in Greek mythology.28 Indeed, a similar Mesopotamian boatman is described in the Epic of Gilgamesh: We are told how the divine barmaid Siduri directed the hero Gilgamesh to a ferryman that could transport him across the great bottomless lake and the Waters of Death to the place where Utnapishtim dwells, the survivor of the Great Flood and the only man ever to have been granted immortality (tablet X)� And the ale-wife continues with her explanations by saying that the boatman Urshanabi, referred to as the “Ferryman of Utnapishtim the Distant” (mUr-šánabi lúMÁ.LAḪ4 šá mUD. ZI)29, was essential for the journey since only he knew how to cross the “waters of death” (mê mūti) to find the secret of everlasting life.30 In the seventh century text known as The Underworld Vision of an Assyrian Prince (who may be Assurbanipal) we meet the grim boatman himself called Humuṭ-tabal (l. 45): dḪu-muṭ-ta-bal LÚ.MÁ.DU.DU KI.TIM SAG.DU an-zumušen 4 ŠU.2 GÌ[R.2 x x] ... “Ḫumuṭ-tabal, the

27

28

29

30

Theodicy II 16‒17. ‒ Lambert, 1960: 70‒71; see also Lambert, 1958: 97‒103, esp. 99 and 103� For the underworld river Ḫubur see Horowitz 1998: 354‒358; see also Lambert, 1980: 53‒66; Galter 1999: 430‒431 s.v. Hubur. Gilg. X ii 28. ‒ For Utnapishtim see Dalley, 22000: 2; George, 2003: 152; Chen, 2013: 10; George, 2015� For additional Sumerian and Akkadian sources for boat trips to the netherworld (e�g�, the poems Enlil and Ninlil, Ningišzida’s Journey to the Netherworld and Ištar’s Descent to the Netherworld) see Flückiger-Hawker, 1999: 170; Jacobsen / Alster, 2000: 315‒344; Galter, 1999: 431; Artemov, 2012: 1‒30, esp. 4. The transition from life to death by crossing a river is also illustrated by several silver and bitumen boat models found in the royal graves of Ur, see Woolley, 1934: pl. 20a and 86b.

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boatman of the underworld, with the head of an Anzu-Bird, four hands and fe[et ���”31 According to the ritual for undoing witchcraft, it was also Gilgamesh who was said to be involved as the ferryman of death� This incantation, added at the end of the ritual, is addressed to Ḫumuṭ-tabal, the divine ferryman of the dead, and to Gilgamesh� This ritual was well-known in first-millennium Mesopotamia and is attested in manuscripts from seventh century Aššur, from Assurbanipal’s library at Nineveh and from seventh century Sippar�32 It is noteworthy that there is no evidence that the Mesopotamian ferryman was paid for taking souls across the river� However, as the poem The Death of Ur-Nammu says, the gifts are presented to the deities of the underworld; Ur-Nammu offers seven sacrifices to “the seven gods of the Netherworld” (Nergal, Gilgamesh, Ereshkigal, Dumuzi, Ningishzida, Namtar, Ninazimua)� These gods who set up their palaces in the underworld are presumably “the seven gate keepers of the Netherworld”�33 Summarising the above, it can be said that the “crossing” seems to be a crossing of borders into another world, a journey into the world after death� The images of crossing waters after death reflect (spiritual) realities. To cross a body of water is a powerful, symbolic act� The crossing makes sure that new arrivals in the land of the dead are indeed dead and may never return to overwhelm the living� To the Babylonians this was a terrible threat, for by them the shades from the netherworld were regarded as being among the most malignant evil demons� This border-crossing became a metaphor for making the transition into a fundamentally different state of being which is permanent and irreversible. It was the ferryman’s job to make it possible to enter a process of transition or transformation� Symbolically, his role was that of a medium�

31 32

33

VAT 10057. ‒ Livingstone, 1989: 71 no. 32 rev. 5; West, 1997: 156; Hays, 2011: 52‒53. KAR 227. ‒Abusch / Schwemer, 2016: 189‒210, esp. 207 and 210; for a discussion on Humuṭ-tabal and further evidence see Schwemer, 2010a: 63‒78, esp. 71; Schwemer 2010b: 311‒339. The Death of Ur-Nammu 81‒131. ‒ On the poem The Death of Ur-Nammu see Horowitz, 1998: 293 and 355; Flückiger-Hawker, 1999: 93‒182; Lindström, 2001: 245‒253; Black / Cunningham / Robson / Zólyom, 2006: 56‒62.

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VI. Theoretical reflections ‒ the crossing of water as a rite of passage into a new region This section draws attention to the structuralist theory, as outlined by the Belgian anthropologist Arnold van Gennep (1960) and expanded by Victor Turner, which can lead to a better understanding of the organization, process, and logistics of rituals around the journey into the underworld� Arnold van Gennep characterizes six categories of transitional rites that marked the passing from one social position state or status of being into another: so-called rites of passage. He introduces his concept of “Rites of passage” as follows: “The life of an individual in any society is a series of passages from one age to another and from one occupation to another ��� For every one of these events there are ceremonies whose essential purpose is to enable the individual to pass from one defined position to another which is equally well defined ... Thus we encounter a wide degree of general similarity among ceremonies of birth, childhood, social puberty, betrothal, marriage, pregnancy, fatherhood, initiation into religious societies, and funerals. In this respect, man’s life resembles nature, from which neither the individual nor the society stands independent� The universe itself is governed by a periodicity which has repercussions on human life, with stages and transitions, movements forward, and periods of relative inactivity”�34

Van Gennep argued that “rites of passage”, which otherwise may be described as crises in man’s journey through life, have a common element: they mark the transition from an old state to a new one by a three-phased process� First, there is a separation from the original status expressed by symbolic ritualistic acts (“rites de séparation”) such as removing the candidates from their parents in cases of puberty rites, or through the cutting of hair or the removal of clothes� Second, there is the marginal (liminal or threshold) phase in which the candidate finds him or herself between the old and the new states� This is usually considered to be the most significant phase of a rite of passage, in which the actual transition or transformation is believed to occur. Victor Turner describes this separation from a well-defined state or status as “betwixt and between”; it is “a moment in and out of time, and in and out of secular social structure�”35 Third, aggregation or incorporation into the new state� The individual

34 35

Gennep, 1960: 2‒3. Turner, 1964: 96�

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reaches annexation or reintegration to the society and returns to a stable condition�36 From the moment of death to the arrival in the underworld, the movement of the deceased through three spaces adheres well to van Gennep’s threestage model on passage rites; these three steps conclude the phase of separation (the moment of death in this world), the phase of transition (the liminal journey), and the phase of reintegration (the arrival of the deceased in the Underworld and their incorporation into the world of the dead)� These three phases also coincide with funerary practices performed by the bereaved who, at the moment of death (phase of separation), started the prescribed funerary rituals (phase of transition) ending with interment and sacrifices (phase of reintegration of the mourners into the life of society)�37 Through the use of structuralist theory, cultural phenomena can be understood as resting on a few abstract universal principles and cognitive structures which remain constant across cultures, contexts, time, and history� The structuralist perspective assumes that there is an inherent, natural order to culture�

36

37

Gennep, 1909; Turner, 1964; 4‒20; Turner, 1995. ‒ For this theoretical approach see, e.g., Bodgan, 2016: 582‒595. For the funerary ceremonies and the role of the mourners see, e�g�, Brandt, 2015: 148‒149: “Funerary rituals are an orchestration of sentiments by actions, which bring the mourners from a situation of grief and gloom through emotional experiences of transcendental character to relief and joy in the concluding banquet� The deceased is put to final rest in the tomb and certainty has been achieved that he or she has arrived safely in the underworld� The mourners, through prescribed rituals containing dance, erotic plays, laughter, and spilling of blood, could challenge and avenge these forces to help the deceased arrive safely in the Underworld. Death caused pollution among the mourners, an unpleasant condition which had to be countered with acts of purification. In their polluted, transitional state the mourners were isolated from the community and could behave out of the norms performing abnormal activities connected to dirt, obscenities, and lawlessness, activities most, if not all, aimed at helping (with all means necessary) the deceased on his or her liminal passage� The reintegration was celebrated, both among the mourners and for the deceased’s arrival in the Underworld, with a joyous banquet.” See also Joralemon, 2013: 45‒53, esp. 46 (Victor Turner: rites de passage, liminality)�

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VII. Conclusion After examining Greek and Mesopotamian conceptions of the underworld and afterlife, certain parallels become nearly undeniable. It would, of course, be wrong to suggest that the Greeks simply appropriated the Sumerian and Akkadian underworld and translated it wholesale into their own myths. Instead, the underworld river, the ferryman and the hero who travels by boat into the realm of the dead represent a conflation, adaptation, and reinterpretation of many elements, among which must have been Near Eastern conceptions of the underworld and its denizens� It may be permissible to speculate that Near Eastern concepts survived in the Greek myth—or, to be a bit more cautious, to note that ancient Greek literature bears a number of striking similarities with Mesopotamian texts. Greece and Mesopotamia seem to have many genres in common� There are also close ties between Greek and Mesopotamian literature in narrative techniques (such as speeches, dialogues and similes), individual motifs (the quest for eternal life, for example) and even specific scenes such as the three most powerful gods casting lots for the allocation of their realms and the boat-ride into the underworld� As for explanatory models, it can be said that many Mesopotamian texts enjoyed wide dissemination in the Hellenistic period� The most prominent of these is the Epic of Gilgamesh which goes back to the twenty-first century BC and continued to be copied down at least up to the end of the Hellenistic period, as a colophon on a surviving version testifies. And it is clear from two manuscripts found at Qumran that Gilgamesh was even a part of the cultural memory of Hellenistic Jews�38 Furthermore, we can imagine a situation in which some (very few) individuals managed to overcome both the geographic and linguistic obstacles that separated Greece and Mesopotamia. It is not difficult to imagine relevant mechanisms of transmission: domestic contacts especially in bilingual populations; war and trade; supra-regional cults and religious festivals; and travelling experts. There is a lot of Hellenistic evidence for people who knew both Greek and Akkadian. One well-known example is Berossos, the Babylonian priest who wrote in Greek� He was an acute reader of both Greek and Mesopotamian texts. Language difference did not pose

38

4Q530 2 ii+6–12(?) 2 and 531 22 12. ‒ Gmirkin, 2006: 103‒106; Goff, 2009: 221‒253; Lemaire, 2010: 125‒144; Fröhlich, 2012: 637‒653; Popović, 2014: 151‒193, esp. 178; Stuckenbruck, 2014: 17‒21 and 45‒57; Perrin, 2015: 48‒51.

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an insurmountable obstacle; translation was commonplace, both within Mesopotamia and further afield.39 But for what do we need van Gennep’s theory of Rites de passage? Generally speaking, a theory can be explained as a lens through which we can view something� The lens of a theoretical model or framework focuses on certain facts in order to understand them better, while leaving other facts out of focus� As Albert Einstein suggested, “Whether you can observe a thing or not depends on the theory which you use. It is the theory which decides what can be observed�”40 The value of the model presented here—van Gennep’s theory of Rites de passage—is that it draws attention to the important interpersonal factors of crossing over waters to get to the underworld that can lead to success or failure� This (symbolic) act does not take place in a social or spiritual vacuum� The journey over waters to enter the world beyond is recognized here as a ritualization of transitions, as an act of changing a place, and a transition to a fundamentally different state of being that has its own purpose and perspective. It is undoubtedly true that van Gennep’s theory of Rites de passage is helpful for gaining a deeper understanding of the idea of crossing over waters to get to the underworld� Coming back to the question of whether Mesopotamian and Hellenistic texts were in dialogue, we have to state that in Hellenistic Mesopotamia the Greeks came into contact with the indigenous people and may have borrowed some literary motifs from cuneiform literature� However, it should be borne in mind that both Greece and Mesopotamia have their own distinct traditions about the use of coins in funerary contexts and boat rides to the underworld�

Bibliography Abusch, T� / Schwemer, D� (eds�), 2016: Corpus of Mesopotamian Anti-Witchcraft Rituals, Volume Two� Ancient Magic and Divination 8/2� Leiden / Boston� Artemov, N�, 2012: “The Elusive Beyond: Some Notes on the Netherworld Geography in Sumerian Tradition”. In C. Mittermayer / S. Ecklin (eds.), Altorientalische Studien zu Ehren von Pascal Attinger� mu-ni u 4 il-li 2 -a-aš ĝa 2 -ĝa 2 -de 3 . OBO 256. Göttingen. Pp. 1‒30.

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40

It has been suggested that Aramaean served as a medium for the transmission of learning from the east to Palestine in the West. See Popović, 2014: 151‒193. For the context of this quote see Heisenberg, 1989: 40; see also Polanyi, 1972: 22.

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Black, J. / Cunningham, G. / Robson, E. / Zólyomi, G. (eds.), 2006: The Literature of Ancient Sumer. Oxford. Bodgan, H., 2016: “Initiations and Transitions”. In M. Stausberg / S. Engler (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of the Study of Religion. Oxford. Pp. 582‒595. Brandt, J. R., 2015: “Passage to the Underworld. Continuity or change in Etruscan Ideology and Practices (6th‒2nd Centuries BC)?” In J. R. Brandt / H. Ingvaldsen / M. Prusac (eds.), Death and Changing Rituals: Function and Meaning in ancient Funerary Practices. Oxford. Pp. 105‒184. Bremer, J� N�, 1994: “The Soul, Death and the Afterlife in Early and Classical Greece”. In J. N. Bremer / R. Peters / T. P. J. van den Hout (eds.), Hidden Futures: Death and Immortality in Ancient Egypt, Anatolia, the Classical, Biblical and Arabic Islamic World. Amsterdam. Pp. 91‒106. — 2002: The Rise and Fall of the Afterlife. The 1995 Read-Tuckwell Lectures at the University of Bristol� London / New York� Butcher, K� 2003: Roman Syria and the Near East� London / Los Angeles� Chen, Y� S�, 2013: The Primeval Flood Catastrophe: Origins and Early Development in Mesopotamian Traditions. Oxford. Cohen, A� C�, 2005: Activities surrounding the Ghost Death Rituals, Ideology, and the Development of Early Mesopotamian Kingship: Towards a New Understanding of Iraqi’s Royal Cemetery of Ur� Ancient Magic and Divination 7� Leiden� Cooper, J� S�, 2009: “Wind and Smoke: Giving up the Ghost of Enkidu, Comprehending Enkidu’s Ghosts”. In M. Poo (ed.), Rethinking Ghosts in World Religions. Numen Book Series 123. Leiden. Pp. 23‒32. Dalley, S�, 22000: Myths from Mesopotamia. Creation, the Flood, Gilgamesh, and Others. A New Translation. Oxford’s World Classics. Oxford. Davis, G� J�, 2014: Gilgamesh, The New Translation� Bridgeport� Edmonds III, R. G., 2004: Myths of the Underworld Journey: Plato, Aristophanes, and the ‘Orphic’ Gold Tablets� Cambridge� Evans, C. A., 2006: “Excavating Caiaphas, Pilate, and Simon of Cyrene: Assessing the Literary and Archaeological Evidence”. In J. H. Charlesworth (ed.), Jesus and Archaeology. Grand Rapids. Pp. 323‒340. Fine, S�, 2014: Art, History and the Historiography of Judaism in Roman Antiquity. Brill Reference Library of Judaism 34. Leiden. Flückiger-Hawker, E�, 1999: Urnamma of Ur in Sumerian Literary Tradition� OBO 166� Göttingen� Fröhlich, I., 2012: “Enmeduranki and Gilgamesh: Mesopotamian Figures in Aramaic Enoch Traditions”. In E. R. Mason et al. (eds.), A Teacher for all Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam� Journal for the Study of Judaism, Suppl. 153. Leiden. Pp. 637‒653. Galter, H� D�, 1999: “Hubur”� DDD2, 430‒431.

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Garland, R., 22001: The Greek Way of Death. Ithaca. Gennep, A� van, 1909: Les rites de Passage. Paris. — 1960: Rites of Passage� London (repr� 1977, several reprints)� George, A. R., 2003: The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic: Introduction, Critical Edition and Cuneiform Texts. Volume I� New York� ― 2015: Ūt(a)-napišti(m). In Gilchrist, E� J�, 2013: Revelation 21‒22 in Light of Jewish and Greco-Roman Utopianism. Biblical Interpretation Series 118. Leiden. Gmirkin, R. E., 2006: Berossus and Genesis, Manetho and Exodus. Hellenistic Histories and the Date of the Pentateuch� Library of Hebrew Bible / Old Testament Studies 443� New York / London� Goff, M�, 2009: “Gilgamesh the Giant: The Qumran Book of Giants’ Appropriation of Gilgamesh Motifs”. Dead Sea Discoveries 16, 221‒253. Greenhut, Z�, 1992: “The ‘Caiaphas’ Tomb in North Talpiyot, Jerusalem”� Atiqot 21, 63‒71. Greenwood, K�, 2015: Scripture and Cosmology. Reading the Bible between the Ancient World and Modern Science� Downers Grove� Griffith, M., 2013: Aristophanes’ Frogs. Oxford Approaches to Classical Literature. Oxford. Grinder-Hansen, K., 1991: “Charon’s fee in Ancient Greece? ‒ Some Remarks on a Well-known Death-Rite”. In T. Fischer-Hansen et al. (eds.), Recent Danish Research in Classical Archaeology: Tradition and Renewal� Acta Hyperborea 3. Copenhagen. Pp. 207‒218. Groneberg, B., 1991: “Mesopotamische Jenseitsvorstellungen”. AoF 17, 244‒261. Hachlili, R. / Killebrew, A. E., 1983: “Jewish Funerary Customs during the Second Temple Period, in the Light of the Excavations at the Jericho Necropolis”. PEJ 115, 109‒132. Hachlili, R., 2005: Jewish Funerary Customs during the Second Temple Period� Journal for the Study of Judaism, Suppl� 94� Leiden� Halliweill, S�, 2015: Clouds, Women at the Thesmophoria, Frogs. A Verse Translation, with Introduction and notes. Oxford. Hays, C� B�, 2011: Death in the Iron Age II and in First Isaiah� Forschungen zum Alten Testament 79� Tübingen (repr� Cambridge 2015)� Heisenberg, W., 1989: “Theory, Criticism and a Philosophy”. In H. A. Bethe et al. (eds�), From a Life of Physics. Singapore. Pp. 31‒56. Holland, G� S�, 2009: Gods in the Desert: Religions of the Ancient Near East. Lanham� Horowitz, W�, 1998: Mesopotamian Cosmic Geography� Mesopotamian Civilizations 8� Winona Lake� Hunn, M� H�, 2000: The School of History. Athens in the Age of Socrates� Berkeley / Los Angeles�

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Jacobsen, T. / Alster, B., 2000: “Ningišzida’s boat-ride to Hades”. In A. R. George / I. L. Finkel (eds.), Wisdom, Gods, and Literature. Studies in Assyriology in Honour of W. G. Lambert. Winona Lake. Pp. 315‒344. Joralemon, D., 2013: “Dying while Living: The Problem of Social Death”. In C. Staudt / J� H� Ellens (eds�), Our changing Journey to the End. Reshaping Death, Dying, and Grief in America, Vol. I: New Paths of Engagement� Santa Barbara / California. Pp. 45‒53. Katz, D�, 2003: The Image of the Netherworld in Sumerian Texts� Bethesda� — 2007: “Sumerian Funerary Rituals in Context”. In N. Laneri (ed.), Performing Death. Social Analyses of Funerary Traditions in the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean. Oriental Institute Seminars 3. Chicago. Pp 167‒188. Kreppner, F. J., 2008: “Eine außergewöhnliche Brandbestattungssitte in Dūr Katlimmu während der ersten Hälfte des ersten Jahrtausends v.Chr.” In D. Bonatz / R. M. Czichon / F. J. Kreppner (eds.), Fundstellen. Gesammelte Schriften zur Archäologie und Geschichte Altvorderasiens. Ad honorem Hartmut Kühne. Wiesbaden. Pp. 263‒276. — 2014: “The New Primary Cremation Custom of Iron Age Tell Sheikh Hamad / Dur Katlimmu (North-eastern Syria)”. In P. Pfälzner / H. Niehr / E. Pernicka / S� Lange (eds�), Contextualising Grave Inventories in the Ancient Near East. Qatna-Studien 3. Wiesbaden. Pp. 171‒186. Künzl, E., 2000: “Der Dolch aus Grab 95/7”. In M. Novák / A. Oettel / C. Witzel (eds�), Der parthisch-römische Friedhof von Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / Magdala� BATSH 5. Berlin. Pp. 89‒98 and Figs. 440‒442. Lambert, W. G., 1958: “The Babylonian Theodicy”. In D. W. Thomas (ed.), Documents from Old Testament Times. London / Edinburgh. Pp. 97‒103 (repr. New York 1961 and Eugene 2005)� — 1960: Babylonian Wisdom Literature� Winona Lake (repr� 1996)� — 1980: “The Theology of Death”. In B. Alster (ed.), Death in Mesopotamia. Papers Read at the XXXVIe Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale� Mesopotamia. Copenhagen Studies in Assyriology 8. Copenhagen. Pp. 53‒66 = Lambert, W� G�, 2016: Ancient Mesopotamian Religion and Mythology: Selected Essays. Tübingen. Pp. 122‒133. Lemaire, A., 2010: “Nabonide et Gilgamesh: L’araméen en Mésopotamie et à Qoumrân”. In K. Berzelot / D. Stökl Ben Ezra (eds.), Aramaica Qumranica. Proceedings of the Conference on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran in Aix-en-Provence 30 June‒2 July 2008. Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 94. Leiden. Pp. 125‒144. Lindström, S., 2001: “‘Wenn du in die Unterwelt hinabsteigen willst ...’ Mesopotamische Vorstellungen von der Unterwelt”. In T. Richter / D. Prechel / J� Klinger (eds�), Kulturgeschichten. Altorientalistische Studien für Volkert Haas zum 65. Geburtstag. Saarbrücken. Pp. 245‒253.

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Livingstone, A�, 1989: Court Poetry and Literary Miscellanea� SAA 3� Helsinki� Maguire, H�, 1997: “Magic and Money in the Early Middle Ages”� Speculum 72/4, 1037‒1054. Majorek, M� B�, 2016: Spiritual Shakespeare� Berlin� Morris, I., 1992: Death-Ritual and Social Structure in Classical Antiquity� Key Themes in Ancient History� Cambridge (repr� 1994 and 1996)� Negro-Ponzi, M., 1970‒1971: “Jewellery and small Objects from Tell Mahuz (North Mesopotamia)”. Mesopotamia 5‒6, 391‒427. Novák, M., 2000a: “Das ‘Haus der Totenpflege’. Zur Sepulkralsymbolik des Hauses im Alten Mesopotamien”. AoF 27, 132‒154. — 2000b: “Die Typologie der Gräber”. In M. Novák / A. Oettel / C. Witzel (eds.), Der parthisch-römische Friedhof von Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / Magdala� BATSH 5. Berlin. Pp. 13‒38. Novák, M. / Oettel, A., 2000: “Die kultursoziologische Interpretation”. In M. Novák / A� Oettel / C� Witzel (eds�), Der parthisch-römische Friedhof von Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / Magdala. BATSH 5. Berlin. Pp. 215‒237. Novák, M. / Oettel, A. / Witzel, C., 2000: “Zusammenfassung”. In M. Novák / A� Oettel / C� Witzel (eds�), Der parthisch-römische Friedhof von Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / Magdala. BATSH 5. Berlin. Pp. XXXV‒XXXIX.

Oettel, A�, 2000: “Charonspfennig und Totenglöckchen� Zur Symbolik von Münzen und Glöckchen”. AoF 27, 106‒120. — 2005: “Die antiken Münzen aus Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad. Die Funde der Grabungskampagnen 1978 bis 2000”. In H. Kühne (ed.), Magdalu / Magdala ‒ Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad von der postassyrischen Zeit bis zur römischen Kaiserzeit. BATSH 2. Berlin. Pp. 161‒186. Perrin, A. B., 2015: The Dynamics of Dream-Vision Revelation in the Aramaic Dead Sea Scrolls� Journal of Ancient Judaism, Suppl� 19� Göttingen� Polanyi, M., 1972: “Genius in Science”. Archives de l’Institut International des Sciences Théoriques 18, 11‒25 = R. T. Allen (ed.), 32017: Society, Economics, and Philosophy. Selected Papers. Michael Polanyi� New York. Pp. 267‒281. Popović, M., 2014: “Networks of Scholars: The Transmission of Astronomical and Astrological Learning between Babylonians, Greek and Jews”. In J. Ben-Dov / S� L� Sanders (eds�), Ancient Jewish Sciences and the History of Knowledge in Second Temple Literature. New York. Pp. 151‒193. Poppa, R., 1978: Kāmid el-Lōz 2. Der eisenzeitliche Friedhof. Befunde und Funde� Saarbrücker Beiträge zur Altertumskunde 18� Bonn� Roselli, D. K., 2011: Theater of the People: Spectators and Society in Ancient Athens� Austin� Schofield, A., 2009: From Qumran to the Yaḥad: A New Paradigm of Textual Development for The Community Rule. Studies and Texts of the Desert of Judah 77� Leiden�

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Schraven, M., 2012: “Founding Rome Anew. Pope Sixtus IV and the Foundation of Ponte Sisto, 1473”. In M. Delbeke / M. Schraven (eds.), Foundation, Dedication and Consecration in Early Modern Europe. Intersections. Interdisciplinary Studies in Early modern Europe 22. Leiden. Pp. 129‒151. Schuol, M., 2014: Rezension zu: Wehry, Benjamin: Zwischen Orient und Okzident. Das Arsakidenzeitliche Gräberfeld von Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / Magdala. Bd. 1: Analyse und Auswertung; Bd. 2: Katalog und Beiträge� Wiesbaden 2013, H-Soz-Kult, 27�10�2014 � Schwemer, D., 2010a: “Entrusting the Witches to Ḫumuṭ-tabal: The ušburruda Ritual 47806+”. Iraq 72, 63‒78. — 2010b: “Empowering the Patient: The Opening Section of the Ritual Maqlû”. In Y. Cohen / A. Gilan / J. L. Miller (eds.), Pax Hethitica. Studies on the Hittites and their Neighbours in Honour of Itamar Singer� StBoT 51� Wiesbaden. Pp. 311‒339. Sourvinou-Inwood, C., 1986: “Charon”. LIMC 3/1, 210‒225. ― 1995: ‘Reading’ Greek Death: To the End of the Classical Period. Oxford. Stevens, S� T�, 1991: “Charon’s Obol and Other Coins in Ancient Funerary Practice”. Phoenix 45, 215‒229. Stiebing Jr�, W� H�, 2 2016: Ancient Near Eastern History and Culture� London / New York� Stuckenbruck, L� T�, 2014: The Myth of the Rebellious Angels: Studies in Second Temple Judaism and New Testament Texts. WUNT 335. Tübingen. Travaini, L�, 2004: “Saints and Sinners: Coins in Medieval Graves”� NC 164, 159‒181. Tsafrir, Y., 2007: “Herodian Building Projects and the Romanisation of Judaea”. In N. Kokkinos (ed.), The World of the Herods. Volume 1 of the International Conference The World of the Herods and the Nabataeans held at the British Museum, 17‒19 April 2001. Oriens et Occidens 14. Stuttgart. Pp. 321‒324. Turner, V., 1964: “Betwixt and Between: The Liminal Period in Rites de Passage”. In J. Helm (ed.), Symposium on New Approaches to the Study of Religion. Proceedings of the 1964 Annual Spring Meeting of the American Association. Proceedings of the Annual Spring Meeting of Ethnological Society. Seattle. Pp. 4‒20 = Turner, V., 1967: The Forest of Symbols. Aspects of Ndembu Ritual. Ithaca / London. Pp. 93‒111. — 1995: The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure� New York� Tzifopoulos, Y. Z., 2011: “Ad OF 496”. In M. Herrero de Jáuregui et al. (eds.), Tracing Orpheus: Studies of Orphic Fragments� Sozomena 10� Berlin� Pp. 231‒237.

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Wehry, B�, 2013: Zwischen Orient und Okzident. Das Arsakidenzeitliche Gräberfeld von Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / Magdala� BATSH 13,2-1� Wiesbaden� Wenkel, D� H�, 2017: Coins as Cultural Texts in the World of the New Testament� London / New York� West, M� L�, 1997: The East Face of Helicon: West Asiatic Elements in Greek Poetry and Myth� New York (repr� 2003)� Williams, M., 2005: “The Jewish Family in Judaea from Pompey to Hadrian ‒ the Limits of Romanization”. In M. George (ed.), The Roman Family in the Empire: Rome, Italy, and Beyond. Oxford. Pp. 159‒182. Wolff, S. R., 2002: “Morturay Practices in the Persian Period of the Levant”. NEA 62, 131‒137. Woolley, C� L�, 1934: Ur Excavations II: The Royal Cemetery. A Report on the Predynastic and Sargonid Graves excavated between 1926 and 1931. Publications of the Joint Expedition of the British Museum and the Museum of the University of Pennsylvania to Mesopotamia. London.

Abbreviations AoF = Altorientalische Forschungen BATSH = Berichte der Ausgrabung Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / Magdala DDD2 = Toorn, K. van der / Becking, B. / Horst, P. W. van der (eds.), 19992: Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible. Leiden� KAR = Ebeling, E. 1919 and 1923: Keilschrifttexte aus Assur religiösen Inhalts I/II� WVDOG 28 and 34. Leipzig. LIMC = Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae NC = The Numismatic Chronicle NEA = Near Eastern Archaeology OBO = Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis PEJ = Palestine Exploration Journal StBoT = Studien zu den Boğzköy-Texten VAT = Museum siglum of the Vorderasiatisches Museum, Berlin (Vorderasiatische Abteilung. Tontafeln) WUNT = Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament WVDOG = Wissenschaftliche Veröffentlichung der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft

Planets, Palaces and Empire. Herodotus on Deioces and Ecbatana (Hdt. 1.98–99) Julian Degen The medikos logos of Herodotus is an odd part of his work. In the world of Histories, the coherent episodes about both the Medes and the construction and fall of their “empire” link the accounts of the Lydian Mermnad dynasty with those of the Persian dynasties of the Teispids and Achaemenids. Hence, the formation of Asiatic power and kingship is the Leitmotiv of his first book.1 This gains momentum since Herodotus’ account of the establishment of the Median state under Deioces provides deep insights into the author’s view on Asiatic kingship. The Halicarnassian finally considered the Median “Empire” as the direct predecessor of the Persian Empire, although he too seemed to have had information on pre-Persian history of the ancient Near East�2 However, the significance of the Median state as the oldest “empire” of Asia in his Histories casts doubt on the veracity of his presentation of Asian history� Therefore, in this regard, the role of Deioces as the central protagonist of medikos logos is key for understanding the Herodotus’s idea of Asiatic power and “empire” in particular� There are still different answers to the question of how highly one can estimate the reliability of Herodotus’ account of the emergence of the Median Empire as a source for historical reconstruction of the history

*

1 2

I want to thank the “Österreichische Orient Gesellschaft Hammer Purgstall” for their generous settlement of my travel costs. I also want to thank the organizers for inviting me to this wonderful conference, their hospitality in Beirut and all the participants for their helpful remarks. In particular I am grateful for the comments of Robert Rollinger (Innsbruck), Martin Lang (Innsbruck) and Clemens Steinwender (Innsbruck) on earlier drafts of this paper� Bichler, 2008a: 100–101� Cf� Wiesehöfer, 2003� On Assyrian and Babylonian history in the Histories see Heller, 2015�

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of pre-Achaemenid Asia�3 There are finally some voices in scholarship denying the existence of the Median Empire. It is of significance that ancient Near Eastern sources convey the impression that the Median Empire was rather a short-lived confederation of Zagrosian tribes than a real empire�4 Nevertheless, the medikos logos of Herodotus seems to bear a nugget of ancient Near Eastern information in it�5 Although one needs to have the miroir grecque in mind when the Halicarnassian comes to write about non-Greek peoples, it is nevertheless possible to draw parallels to cuneiform evidence in this case�6 For instance, Neo-Assyrian sources mention a (bab�) Daiukku with West Iranian origin as captive of Sargon II and from the Bisitun inscription we gain knowledge of a (op.) *Dahyuka� As a consequence, the striking resemblance of those names

3 4

5

6

Zournatzi, 2013; Asheri / Lloyd / Corcella, 2004: 147; Panaino, 2003; Bichler, 2001: 255. Sancisi-Weerdenburg, 1988 and Sancisi-Weerdenburg, 1995, triggered recent research� She denies the historicity of the Median Empire based on cuneiform evidence� For an extensive discussion of the history of research on this topic, see Rollinger, forthc. a; Rollinger, 2020. H. Sancisi-Weerdenburg, however, launched a debate which is still ongoing. The sources on the Assyro-Median relationship were last fully examined by Radner, 2003: esp. 63, who states, that “…the Median identity remains somewhat of an enigma� At the heart of the problem lies the fact that the Assyrian sources are never specific about what makes a Mede a Mede in their eyes.” The sites at Godin Tepe, Nush-i Jan, Baba Jan, ancient Mannea, Ziwiye and in modern Ecbatana do not offer us a homogeneous image� From the late 9th century until the middle of the 7th century some of these places burgeoned and others declined, but all the sites tend to result in decline during the first half of the 6th century� A short overview is provided by Liverani, 2003: 2–4, more details are offered by Stronach, 2003; Roaf, 2003; in general, Muscarella, 1987: 127 points out the main problems in identifying Median art in archaeology� The best overview on Media according to Greek and Ancient Near Eastern sources is still the compendium of Lanfranchi / Roaf / Rollinger, 2003. Especially on Herodotus’ medikos logos see the anthology of Meier / Patzek / Walter / Wiesehöfer, 2004. A discussion of Media and Medes in the Achaemenid royal inscriptions is Rollinger, 2005. A very recent discussion of the cuneiform evidence on people in the area of the Zagros mountains is Balatti, 2017: 135–193. Regarding the Histories of Herodotus, plenty of problems related to Median history remain� For instance, the mentioning of the two Ecbatanas (cf. Gufler, 2016) is just one of many problems. Nearly the same problem mirrors the comprehensible archaeological evidence. Although, as Rollinger, 2020 has shown, there are good arguments for arguing against the historicity of the Median Empire, Parker, 2019 very recently defended its existence. Briant, 2002: 256� A recent discussion of Greek traditions in the medikos logos is Degen / Rollinger, 2020. Hartog, 1988�

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with the Herodotean Δηιόκης launched a debate about the quality of the medikos logos as a source for Median history� Although the resemblances between the names is striking at first sight, modern commentators reached consensus that there is no possible connection between the Herodotean Deioces and Daiukku� The name *Dahyuka, however, is well attested for the Achaemenid period, which suggests a Persian layer of information.7 Thus, it seems that the name of the Median king Deioces neither derives from Median sources nor from an account dating in the pre-Persian period� As one can clearly see, Herodotus’ presentation of Media and the Medes is indeed only partly built on ancient Near Eastern information� So the question of the historicity of the Median “Empire” still constitutes a dilemma�8 One element of the medikos logos, however, allows a close look at the origin of information which Herodotus used to pen Median history� The vigilant reader of the episode on Deioces’ rise to power finally may note that the newly-constructed palace in Ecbatana comes to be the most important tool for the first Median king to establish, exercise and maintain his rule� The way Herodotus describes that residence puzzled scholars for a long time� Since no other ancient account of the palace of Ecbatana survived and its archaeologically relevant remains are buried under the modern city Hamadan (Tell Hagmatana/Tappa-ye Hagmatāna), Herodotus’ work is our major source� On this ground, the fact looms large that the description of Deioces’ palace is the only episode out of the Histories from which we gain condensed information on Median kingship� An answer to the question of which traditions influenced Herodotus does necessitate a closer look at the residence of Deioces�

7

8

On the Daiukku/Dahyuka-causa see Wiesehöfer, 2004: esp� 22� Also, a misinterpretation of a cuneiform passage led to the special interpretation of a so-called “house of Deioces”, contra Schmitt, 2011 with literature� On the dissemination of Achaemenid royal inscriptions cf. Rollinger, 2016a and Jacobs, 2012. On Herodotus and Achaemenid royal ideology see (all with different conclusions but generally affirming the presence of Persian royal ideology in the Histories): Bichler / Rollinger, 2017; Rollinger, 2017a: 7–10; Högemann, 1992 and Balcer, 1987. Very recent analyses of the presence of ancient Near Eastern motives in Herodotus’ Histories are Klinkott / Kramer, 2017 and Gufler / Madreiter 2015: 387–390. To us, no Median sources are available and it is very doubtful to state that Herodotus was aware of stories with Median origin, cf� Schmitt, 2003 on the thorny question about the unknown language of the Medes� Cf. Rollinger, 2020.

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The argument of the present paper is built on an analysis of both Greek and ancient Near Eastern dimensions of single elements of the Herodotean Ecbatana� By a close reading of both the description of the palace’s physical appearance and the court system as established by Deioces, it will be argued that Herodotus’ information derived from the Achaemenid time� Although the Deioces episode contains proper ancient Near Eastern information, the Halicarnassian, nevertheless, gave his readership hints to Athenian imperialism of his time. In conclusion, the Median Empire of the Histories may have its Asian varnish, but its historical background is the rise of Athens in the context of the Delian League. To begin this argumentation, a close look at Herodotus’ description of Deioces’ palace is essential� Herodotus on Deioces and Ecbatana Herodotus’ presentation of Median kingship is limited to his excursus on Deioces’ residence Ecbatana. It is of significance that in the eyes of the Halicarnassian the function of the palace as capital of Deioces’ newly founded state is almost secondary. The residence serves in the first place as Deioces’ tool to exaggerate his own position towards his Median peers� At this point of the episode the palace’s visual manifestation of power through its impressive physical appearance comes in� Herodotus highlights its significance by giving the most detailed description of a building in the Histories: “So he (scil� Deioces) built the big and strong walls, one standing inside the next in circles, which are now called Ecbatana. This fortress is so designed that each circle of walls is higher than the next outer circle by no more than the height of its battlements; to which plan the site itself, on a hill in the plain, contributes somewhat, but chiefly it was accomplished by skill� There are seven circles in all; within the innermost circle are the palace and the treasuries; and the longest wall is about the length of the wall that surrounds the city of Athens. The battlements of the first circle are white, of the second black, of the third circle purple, of the fourth blue, and of the fifth orange: thus the battlements of five circles are painted with colors; and the battlements of the last two circles are coated, the one with silver and the other with gold�”9

9

Hdt. 1.98.3–6: ὃ δ᾽ ἐκέλευε αὐτοὺς οἰκία τε ἑωυτῷ ἄξια τῆς βασιληίης οἰκοδομῆσαι καὶ κρατῦναι αὐτὸν δορυφόροισι: ποιεῦσι δὴ ταῦτα οἱ Μῆδοι. οἰκοδομέουσί τε γὰρ αὐτῷ οἰκία

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As we learn from Herodotus’ description, the palace of Deioces is a circular building consisting of seven walls� The battlements of each inner wall are higher than the highest points of the next outer wall. Thus, the appearance of the complex is effectively virtually conical. Since Herodotus gives a clue that the palace is located on a hill (κολωνός), the building seems to be constructed hierarchically� On these grounds, Ecbatana is rather a complex consisting of seven nested circles (κύκλος) than a spiralshaped complex. Furthermore, for some inexplicable reason it seemed to have been important for Herodotus to mention the following sequence of colours/materials of the walls’ battlements: white, black, purple, blue, orange, silver and gold� Moreover, as we learn from the subsequently following passage, the palace of Deioces is definitely a building to live in and its architectural arrangement is key to the conceptualisation of Deioces’ idea of kingship: “Deioces built these walls for himself and around his own quarters, and he ordered the people to dwell outside the wall� And when it was all built, Deioces was first to establish the rule that no one should come into the presence of the king, but everything should be done by means of messengers; that the king should be seen by no one; and moreover that it should be a disgrace for anyone to laugh or to spit in his presence� He was careful to hedge himself with all this so that the men of his own age (who had been brought up with him and were as nobly born as he and his equals in courage), instead of seeing him and being upset and perhaps moved to plot against him, might by reason of not seeing him believe him to be different�”10

10

μεγάλα τε καὶ ἰσχυρά, ἵνα αὐτὸς ἔφρασε τῆς χώρης, καὶ δορυφόρους αὐτῷ ἐπιτρέπουσι ἐκ πάντων Μήδων καταλέξασθαι. ὁ δὲ ὡς ἔσχε τὴν ἀρχήν, τοὺς Μήδους ἠνάγκασε ἓν πόλισμα ποιήσασθαι καὶ τοῦτο περιστέλλοντας τῶν ἄλλων ἧσσον ἐπιμέλεσθαι. πειθομένων δὲ καὶ ταῦτα τῶν Μήδων οἰκοδομέει τείχεα μεγάλα τε καὶ καρτερὰ ταῦτα τὰ νῦν Ἀγβάτανα κέκληται, ἕτερον ἑτέρῳ κύκλῳ ἐνεστεῶτα. μεμηχάνηται δὲ οὕτω τοῦτο τὸ τεῖχος ὥστε ὁ ἕτερος τοῦ ἑτέρου κύκλος τοῖσι προμαχεῶσι μούνοισι ἐστι ὑψηλότερος. τὸ μέν κού τι καὶ τὸ χωρίον συμμαχέει κολωνὸς ἐὼν ὥστε τοιοῦτο εἶναι, τὸ δὲ καὶ μᾶλλόν τι ἐπετηδεύθη. κύκλων δ᾽ ἐόντων τῶν συναπάντων ἑπτά, ἐν δὴ τῷ τελευταίῳ τὰ βασιλήια ἔνεστι καὶ οἱ θησαυροί. τὸ δ᾽ αὐτῶν μέγιστον ἐστὶ τεῖχος κατὰ τὸν Ἀθηνέων κύκλον μάλιστά κῃ τὸ μέγαθος. τοῦ μὲν δὴ πρώτου κύκλου οἱ προμαχεῶνες εἰσὶ λευκοί, τοῦ δὲ δευτέρου μέλανες, τρίτου δὲ κύκλου φοινίκεοι, τετάρτου δὲ κυάνεοι, πέμπτου δὲ σανδαράκινοι. οὕτω τῶν πέντε κύκλων οἱ προμαχεῶνες ἠνθισμένοι εἰσὶ φαρμάκοισι: δύο δὲ οἱ τελευταῖοί εἰσὶ ὃ μὲν καταργυρωμένους ὁ δὲ κατακεχρυσωμένους ἔχων τοὺς προμαχεῶνας. Translation by A. D. Godley. Hdt. 1.99: ταῦτα μὲν δὴ ὁ Δηιόκης ἑωυτῷ τε ἐτείχεε καὶ περὶ τὰ ἑωυτοῦ οἰκία, τὸν

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It is of significance that, in the eyes of Herodotus, Deioces is an inaccessible ruler whose palace is the most important tool for practicing his idea of kingship. The arrangement of the whole complex of the palace (βασιλήια) is important since it separates Deioces from his Median peers. To achieve this effect Deioces lives in the innermost parts of the palace where his private chambers (οἰκία) and the treasuries (θησαυροί) are located� The inner enclosures are spatially divided from the outside by the palace’s walls (τεῖχος) where the Median subjects need to dwell. Hence, unapproachability and inaccessible isolation are the important elements of Deioces’ idea of kingship�11 However, this goes even further� As his next step, Deioces considered it necessary to establish a court ceremonial which was generally based on the architectural arrangement of his palace� This measure, however, was mandatory in the eyes of Herodotus since Deioces established kingship as ordinary Mede and he therefore badly needed a new status in order to become different (ἑτεροῖος) compared to the other Medes� The result of Deioces’ reform is the differentiation of Median society into two different circles� On the one hand, there was a privileged inner circle consisting of people with access to the palace but without permission to see the king� On the other hand, some Median peers embodied the outer circle having no access to the palace� Be that as it may, this does not mean that Deioces became a deified king. Unlike the first Assyrian king Sesostris according to the extant fragments of Ctesias’ account, the Herodotean Deioces ultimately did not regard himself as a deity but as being distinguished from the Median peers�12 However, if we view the Deioces episode in the broader context of the whole Histories, the Median court protocol is not exceptional. When one comes to think of the court ceremonials of Darius I and Xerxes I,

11 12

δὲ ἄλλον δῆμον πέριξ ἐκέλευε τὸ τεῖχος οἰκέειν. οἰκοδομηθέντων δὲ πάντων κόσμον τόνδε Δηιόκης πρῶτος ἐστὶ ὁ καταστησάμενος, μήτε ἐσιέναι παρὰ βασιλέα μηδένα, δι᾽ ἀγγέλων δὲ πάντα χρᾶσθαι, ὁρᾶσθαι τε βασιλέα ὑπὸ μηδενός, πρός τε τούτοισι ἔτι γελᾶν τε καὶ ἀντίον πτύειν καὶ ἅπασι εἶναι τοῦτό γε αἰσχρόν. ταῦτα δὲ περὶ ἑωυτὸν ἐσέμνυνε τῶνδε εἵνεκεν, ὅκως ἂν μὴ ὁρῶντες οἱ ὁμήλικες, ἐόντες σύντροφοί τε ἐκείνῳ καὶ οἰκίης οὐ φλαυροτέρης οὐδὲ ἐς ἀνδραγαθίην λειπόμενοι, λυπεοίατο καὶ ἐπιβουλεύοιεν, ἀλλ᾽ ἑτεροῖός σφι δοκέοι εἶναι μὴ ὁρῶσι. Translation A. D. Godley. Bowie, 2016: 123–124; Bichler 2008a: 150–151� FGrH 688 F 1r [S], 28 by Stronk, 2010: 267. For Deioces as a kind of deificated king see Scully, 1990: 156� For counterstatements see the argumentation in Lanfranchi, 2010: 53–60. For a critical discussion of the topos of deificated Asian rulers in Greek literature see Rollinger, 2011.

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social isolation seems to be a general element of Herodotus’ presentation of Asian kingship rather than a specific feature of Median rulership.13 The Halicarnassian, however, does generally associate the inaccessible isolation of a ruler with autocracy, as we see in the case of the Samian tyrant Polycrates.14 The mentioning of bodyguards in both the Deioces episode and Pisistratus’ coup d’état in Athens is evidence for the close association between Greek tyranny and Asiatic kingship�15 As we see, Herodotus intentionally associated the rule of Deioces with both the Achaemenid Great Kings and the Greek tyrants on order to achieve comparability with his audiences’ cultural context. Nevertheless, as the next step will reveal, Greek perception of autocracy is just one of the episodes’ many elements� The Physical Appearance of the Palace: The Battlement’s Sequence of Colours The account of the accession of Deioces may consist mostly out of Greek ideas on Asian kingship, but Herodotus’ description of Ecbatana contains ancient Near Eastern information as well� For instance, there is a hitherto disregarded coincidence between the Herodotean Ecbatana and the depictions of fortresses on Neo-Assyrian reliefs� The reliefs related to the campaigns of Tiglath-pileser III and Sargon II in Western Iran especially depict the fortresses encountered as complex buildings with seven, eight or even nine walls and an inner citadel situated on a hill�16 Nevertheless, one should be cautious to make an argument for Mesopotamian influences on Herodotus out of similarities between his description and the NeoAssyrian reliefs. What speaks finally against a connection is the different forms of the buildings. In the Histories Ecbatana is explicitly described as a circular complex; by contrast the Neo-Assyrian reliefs show the Median fortresses in a square shape, which could also be due to artificial conventions� However, be that as it may, it is unlikely that Herodotus

13 14 15

16

Bichler, 2008a� On this issue, see also Degen, 2020; Degen, 2019a and Tuplin, 2013� Degen, 2017: 36–38� Bichler, 2008a: 151; Walter, 2004: 90. For lance-bearers (δορυφόροι) in Achaemenid contexts see Degen, 2019b: 73–74 (Greek historiography); Henkelman, 2007 (administrative context). It seems that lance-bearers were high-ranked courtiers. E.g., a newly discovered trilingual inscription from Naqsh-i Rustam at Darius’ I tomb (DNf) mentioning an unknown lance-guard illustrates the high rank in court society of the office-holder. On DNf see now Delshad / Doroodi 2019� Gunter, 1982: pl. IIa–IVa.

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gained his information from Neo-Assyrian palace-reliefs� The 4th century author Ctesias, for instance, is the first Greek writer who mentions reliefs of ancient Near Eastern palaces for the first time.17 As we will see later, the physical appearance of Herodotean Ecbatana is an intentional allusion to the Median capital with Athens, for which reason the round shaped palace has no backing in ancient Near Eastern sources. It seems, therefore, that Herodotus may not have followed any specific “Median” or “Assyrian” idea when he penned Deioces’ establishment of kingship� The eye-catching presentation of the palace’s battlements calls for a check with indigenous evidence, however� Scholars have been aware of this list of colours for a long time and brought different arguments to light� Already in the beginning of the great discoveries of the material heritage of the ancient Near East, the Herodotean episode about Ecbatana served as a source of archaeological interpretations for ziggurats. In his publication of the results of the Borsippa excavation, Sir Henry Rawlinson considered Deioces’ palace to be a ziggurat� The decisive factor of his argument was the accordance of vertical colour-sequence of the Borsippa ziggurat’s glaze bricks with the sequence of colours known from Hdt� 1�98�5�18 The way, thereupon, seemed to be open for speculation about multi-coloured ziggurats in the ancient Near East and their impact on Herodotus. But the identification of Ecbatana as a ziggurat causes several problems� One of the main problems, for instance, is the number of walls of Ecbatana. Iconographies of ziggurats on clay seals show that a seven-staged ziggurat seems to be more of an idealistic physical appearance of such a building than a physical appearance proven by the archaeological record�19 Nevertheless, new light can be cast on this issue due to text findings. A very persuasive accordance in the sequences of colours becomes noticeable when we compare Hdt� 1�98�5 with the planet colours as depicted in Neo-Babylonian planetary omina� According to Peter James and Marinus A. van der Sluijs, the text K 2346 54 out of the

17

18

19

FGrH 688 F 1b 8�7 in Stronk, 2010: 217� For ancient Near Eastern elements in the fragments of Ctesias’ work, see Madreiter, 2012� A synthesis and discussion on the hypothesis of Rawlinson is James / Van der Sluijs, 2008: 68� James / Van der Sluijs, 2008: 67–68. It’s worth mentioning that the so-called “tomb of Cyrus” has seven stages, cf� Jacobs, 2010�

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planetary omen corpus gives what appears to be a standard list of planet colours for the Neo-Babylonian period:20 “The white star is Jupiter, the Red Star is Mars, the Green star is Venus, the Black star is Saturn, variant: mercury�”21

On basis of this text, Peter James and Marinus A. van der Sluijs conclude that “…the following planet-colour associations may be viewed as standard for Neo-Babylonian times: Jupiter (white), Mars (red), Venus (green/blue), Saturn (black), Mercury (red), Sun (gold), Moon (silver)�”22 As we easily see, the parallels between the Neo-Babylonian planet colour list and Herodotus’ depiction of Ecbatana are striking at first sight.23 The fact that in the Neo-Babylonian period the stages of ziggurats were associated with the colours of planets adds additional plausibility to the latter argument�24 However, the planetary dimension of the colours of Ecbatana’s battlements were also a topic of longer scholarly debate, for which Peter James and Marninus A. van der Sluijs only provided additive cuneiform evidence� Already 30 years ago, S� Scully picked up nearly the same interpretative approach: “As with Mesopotamian cities, the whole city was magically protected and built in imitation of the heavens (Ecbatana presumably modeled on the circuits of the planets), and in Mesopotamia,

20 21

22 23

24

James / Van der Sluijs, 2008: 67–68. The edition and translation of K 2346 54 is Reiner / Pingree, 1998: 248–249: MUL BABBAR MUL.SAG.ME.[G]AR MUL SA5 dṢal-bat-a-nu MUL SIG7 dDil-bat│MUL MI dSAG.UŠ : dGUD.UD James / Van der Sluijs, 2008: 68. James / Van der Sluijs, 2008: 72–73: “In conclusion, while direct evidence is lacking for the planetary significance of the Ecbatana/ziggurat color sequence as reconstructed here, three lines of evidence strongly support it: (a) that it is meaningful in astronomical terms, (b) that it is similar to the planet order attested in some Greek and Latin writings and sources from the Egyptian New Kingdom, and (c) that the device of the pentagram apparently links it to the known standard planetary order of Neo-Babylonian times� There may be thus be good reason to reappraise the persistent tradition of the Greeks that they learnt about the planets from the Babylonians and Egyptians. This tradition conflicts with the current understanding that the Greeks ‘invented’ the concept of a planetary order based on relative distance, while the Babylonian view the stars was a purely arithmetical one, with the stars and planets all existing together on one undifferentiated plane.” James / Van der Sluijs, 2008: 73–74.

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all attention is centered on the inner citadel where human and god meet�”25 Although this interpretation appears attractive to the modern reader, it nonetheless presumes that Herodotus provides an account to his readership based on accurate reporting� However, some modern commentators challenge the common view that the Halicarnassian only recorded what he heard on his alleged journeys through the oikumene.26 On this ground, the more moderate interpretation of the Herodotean Ecbatana by A� Bowie gains importance: “Even though this is a relatively extended description of a city (scil. Ecbatana) for Herodotus, its highly schematic nature might suggest that it is less the product of an interest in the physical description of cities, than a speculation on cities and power�”27 A long, close look at Herodotus’ Babylonian logos proves A� Bowie’s statement right. In this part of the Histories Herodotus finally reveals to his readership his idea of how a ziggurat should look� His description of the sanctuary of Zeus Belus (Διὸς Βήλου ἱρὸν), i.e., the ziggurat Etemenaki, is distinguished to the palace of Deioces in many details: “In the middle of one division of the city stands the royal palace, surrounded by a high and strong wall; and in the middle of the other is still to this day the sacred enclosure of Zeus Belus, a square of four hundred and forty yards each way, with gates of bronze. In the center of this sacred enclosure a solid tower has been built, two hundred and twenty yards long and broad; a second tower rises from this and from it yet another, until at last there are eight� The way up them mounts spirally outside the height of the towers; about halfway up is a resting place, with seats for repose, where those who ascend sit down and rest. In the last tower there is a great shrine; and in it stands a great and well-covered couch, and a golden table nearby� But no

25

26

27

Scully, 1990: 156. Generally, on this topic see Rochberg, 2004, but without examining the color sequence of Ecbatana in the Histories. The exhaustive disquisition on Achaemenid Persia Briant, 2002: 84–85 perceives Ecbatana’s astronomical dimensions as well, but avoids any further interpretation� Cf. Bichler 2017; Klinkott / Kramer, 2017; Ruffing, 2013; Baragwanath / de Bakker, 2012; Luraghi, 2013; Luraghi, 2012a; Luraghi, 2012b; Walter, 2004: 80 (denies Herodotus’ hints to ancient Near Eastern history in this case); Bichler / Rollinger 2000: 145–169� Bowie, 2006: 123�

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image has been set up in the shrine, nor does any human creature lie there for the night, except one native woman, chosen from all women by the god, as the Chaldaeans say, who are priests of this god�”28

If one compares the descriptions of Etemenaki and Ecbatana by Herodotus a certain disagreement becomes obvious� Firstly, in the eyes of the Halicarnassian, the Etemenaki has a spiral appearance that stands out in contrast to the nested complex of the Median residence.29 Secondly, according to the Histories, Ecbatana is like a well-fortified castle. On the contrary, the Etemenaki of the Histories seems to be a tower-like building� Thirdly, Herodotus describes Ecbatana as a palace (βασιλήια) and the Etemenaki as the Babylonian sanctuary of Zeus Belus� The latter looks like a tower and is square-shaped (τετράγωνος), which could be a hint to the actual appearance of a ziggurat known from cuneiform sources�30 However, the only similarity between Herodotus’ depictions of Ecbatana and the Etemenaki is that gold was associated with the highest points of both buildings� Due to a lack of accordance with both archaeological and indigenous textual evidence, Herodotus’ description of the sanctuary of Zeus Belus is, just like the rest of the Babylonian logos, rather based on imagination than on autopsy�31 There is, therefore, every indication that Herodotus was more interested in speculations about autocratic power in

28

29

30

31

Hdt. 1.181.2–4: ἐν δὲ φάρσεϊ ἑκατέρῳ τῆς πόλιος ἐτετείχιστο ἐν μέσῳ ἐν τῷ μὲν τὰ βασιλήια περιβόλῳ μεγάλῳ τε καὶ ἰσχυρῷ, ἐν δὲ τῷ ἑτέρῳ Διὸς Βήλου ἱρὸν χαλκόπυλον, καὶ ἐς ἐμὲ ἔτι τοῦτο ἐόν, δύο σταδίων πάντῃ, ἐὸν τετράγωνον. ἐν μέσῳ δὲ τοῦ ἱροῦ πύργος στερεὸς οἰκοδόμηται, σταδίου καὶ τὸ μῆκος καὶ τὸ εὖρος, καὶ ἐπὶ τούτῳ τῷ πύργῳ ἄλλος πύργος ἐπιβέβηκε, καὶ ἕτερος μάλα ἐπὶ τούτῳ, μέχρι οὗ ὀκτὼ πύργων. ἀνάβασις δὲ ἐς αὐτοὺς ἔξωθεν κύκλῳ περὶ πάντας τοὺς πύργους ἔχουσα πεποίηται. μεσοῦντι δέ κου τῆς ἀναβάσιος ἐστὶ καταγωγή τε καὶ θῶκοι ἀμπαυστήριοι, ἐν τοῖσι κατίζοντες ἀμπαύονται οἱ ἀναβαίνοντες. ἐν δὲ τῷ τελευταίῳ πύργῳ νηὸς ἔπεστι μέγας: ἐν δὲ τῷ νηῷ κλίνη μεγάλη κέεται εὖ ἐστρωμένη, καὶ οἱ τράπεζα παρακέεται χρυσέη. ἄγαλμα δὲ οὐκ ἔνι οὐδὲν αὐτόθι ἐνιδρυμένον, οὐδὲ νύκτα οὐδεὶς ἐναυλίζεται ἀνθρώπων ὅτι μὴ γυνὴ μούνη τῶν ἐπιχωρίων, τὴν ἂν ὁ θεὸς ἕληται ἐκ πασέων, ὡς λέγουσι οἱ Χαλδαῖοι ἐόντες ἱρέες τούτου τοῦ θεοῦ. Translated by A. D. Godley. On the ziggurat-theory see Bichler, 2001: 236: “…doch bei Herodot dominiert die Form konzentrischer Kreise�” For critics on the reconstruction of ziggurats, esp� the Etemenaki, through archaeological and textual sources see Allinger-Csollich, 1998 and idem, 2011. Cf. Rollinger, 1993; Rollinger, 2001; Henkelman / Kuhrt / Rollinger / Wiesehöfer, 2001; Rollinger, 2014; contra: Nesselrath, 1999. On a critical assessment of Herodotus’ method of autopsy in general see Bichler 2017; Bichler 2014�

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general than in providing an accurate description of a real building when he penned his episode on Deioces� Although the interpretation of Ecbatana as a ziggurat lacks evidence, the Herodotean account, nevertheless, does acquire an increased importance if seen in terms of the history of ancient Near Eastern ideas of empire� For instance, Mesopotamian conceptions of rulership of the first millennium BCE originate from the idea that rulership is universal and cosmic� The royal title of the Assyrian kings in particular associates their power and the extension of their empire with the universe. From the reign of ŠamšīAdad I onwards, the Assyrian kings declared themselves as “king of the universe” (šar kiššati), underlining the “totality” (kiššatu) of their claims to power�32 Through these expressions the Assyrian kings communicated both the religious character of their office and the divine right of their rule�33 Again, the extant fragments of Ctesias prove to be of use. From his account we learn that the Assyrian subjects of Sesostris called him master of the universe (κοσμοκράτωρ).34 Although Ctesias does provide his own view on Asian kingship to his readership, his work once contained some proper information on the ancient Near East�35 The fact that the royal Assyrian titular is finally mentioned in Greek literature is evidence for believing that the inhabitants of the Aegean worlds were aware of the representation of Assyrian kings. The dissemination of official Assyrian texts suggests that in all likelihood propaganda even reached imperial border zones�36 With this in mind, we should proceed with a closer examination of connections between the Herodotean accounts on Deioces, his palace and royal Assyrian representation� Expressing universal kingship using cosmic elements is an inherent part of the Assyrian kings’ legitimation� For instance, the Assyrian kings’ construction of sanctuaries and cities gave utterance to the cosmic nature

32 33 34 35

36

Karlsson, 2016: 58; Pongratz-Leisten, 2015: 147. Cf. Parpola, 1999; Parpola, 2010: 36. Also Parker, 2011: 365. FGrH 688 F 1r [S], 28 in Stronk, 2010: 267� On Ctesias’ view on Medes and Persians cf. Rollinger, 2011; Lanfranchi, 2010. For instance, the names of Persians and Medes in the extant fragments of Ctesias have both Iranian and Mesopotamian roots. Cf. Pirngruber, 2011; Schmitt, 2006. Nevertheless, Ctesias presents Asian kings based on Greek stereotypes to his readership� Cf� Madreiter, 2012: 125–133; Rollinger, 2010: 619–622. Cf. Parker, 2011: 366. On the contact situation and channels of transmission between Mesopotamia and the Aegean world, see Rollinger, 2017b; Rollinger, 2017c; Van Dongen, 2008 and Patzek, 2004.

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of their power�37 In this regard, an inscription of the Middle-Assyrian king Tiglath-Pileser I reveals the kings’ intentions for their intensive building activity: “I rebuilt it from top to bottom and made it bigger than before. I constructed two large ziqqurrats which were appropriate for their great divinity. I planned (and) laboriously rebuilt (and) completed the pure temple, the holy shrine, their joyful abode, their happy dwelling which stands out like the stars of heaven and which represents the choicest skills of the building trade. Its interior I decorated like the interior of heaven, I decorated its walls as splendidly as the brilliance of rising stars. I raised its towers and its ziqqurrats to the sky and made fast its parapets with baked brick. I installed inside a conduit (suitable for the conduct) of the rites of their great divinity. I brought the gods Anu and Adad, the great gods, my lords, inside (and) set them on their exalted thrones. (Thus) did I please their great divinity�”38

Tiglath-Pileser I follows in the footsteps of Šamši-Adad III, who was king of Assyria 400 years before him, by restoring the Anu-Adad temple splendidly�39 In the time following, the Assyrian kings expressed their status as divine selected rulers among others by taking care of sanctuaries�40 The cosmic character of Assyrian kingship was not limited to the qualities of the ruler himself, but became also an element of his idea of empire� From the 8th century onwards, when the Neo-Assyrian state started to become an empire per definitionem, the residence of the king began to play a role as centre of the cosmos in royal propaganda�41 One good example of this

37 38

39 40 41

Parker, 2011: 374–375; Novotny, 2010. Tiglath-Pileser I. RIMA 2 A.0.87.1 vii 85–110: iš-tu uš-še-šu a-di gaba-dib-bi-šu e-puuš UGU mah-re-e ut-ter 2 si-qur-ra-a-te GAL�MEŠ-te ša a-na si-mat DINGIR-ti-šunu GAL-te šu-lu-ka lu ab-ni É KÙ at-ma-na qu-šu-da šu-bat hi-da-te-šu-nu mu-šab ta-ši-il-ti-šu-nu ša ki-ma MUL AN-e šu-pu-ú ù i-na ši-pár LÚ.ŠITIM-nu-ti ma-aʾ-diš nu-su-qu ak-pu-ud a-na-ah nt-uš ú-šék-lil qé-reb-šu ki-ma lìb-bi AN-e ú-be-en-ni i-gara-te-šu ki-ma ša-ru-ur si-it MUL.MEŠ ú-si-im ú-šèr-rih na-me-re-e-šu ù si-qur-ra-tešu a-na AN-e u-še-qi-ma ù gaba-dib-bì-šu i-na a-gúr-ri ú-re-ki-is e-lal-la-a pa-ra-aṣ DINGiR-ti-šu-nu GAL-ti i-na qé-reb-šu ad-di da-na ù dIŠKUR DINGIR.MEŠ GAL. MEŠ EN�MEŠ-ia a-na lìb-bi ú-še-ri-ib� Translation by A� K� Grayson� RIMA 1 A.0.59.1001–1002. Novotny, 2010: 110–114; Parpola, 2010: 37. Frahm, 2017; Radner, 2014; Van de Mieroop, 2003: 266–270. For a recent definition of “empire”, see Gehler / Rollinger, 2014.

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idea is the presentation of Sargon’s II newly founded capital Dūr-Šarrukēn/Khorsabad in royal inscriptions. In the imagination of the texts, the capital embodies the centre of the universe� For instance, when describing the gates of Khorsabad the texts clearly allude to the gates of the universe in the Mesopotamian creation myth Enuma Elish�42 However, this goes even further if one takes a look at the architectonical arrangement of the citadel of Sargon II. The latter has seven gates, which is without any doubt a hint to Mesopotamian mythology. In the poem Ishtar’s Descent to the Netherworld the goddess Ishtar needs to pass seven gates to meet her sister Ereshkigal in the heart of netherworld�43 The royal inscriptions leave its readership in no doubt that world domination was the basic idea of this allusion�44 As one clearly can see in the case of the lists on the origins of the building materials used and the craftsmen who worked on the construction of Khorsabad, all the empire’s provinces are represented in the capital�45 Thus, it is beyond doubt that the royal Assyrian inscriptions portrayed the imperial capital as center of the universe, which support the king’s claims to world domination through allusions to mythology� The significance of buildings for representing the empire’s claim to world dominion did not cease with the fall of Aššur� The so-called Etemenanki-Cylinder, for instance, is an impressive text illustrating the claim of the Neo-Babylonian king for ruling over the inhabited world: “In order to build Etemenanki I burdened them (the peoples of the ‘world’) with a soil basket: … I brought mighty cedars from the land of Lebanon to my city, Babylon� The totality of the people of the widespread inhabited world, that my lord Marduk gave to me, in order to build the Etemenanki� I made them (the peoples of the world) undertake the work and burdened them with a soil basket�”46

42

43 44 45

46

Fuchs, 1994: 42 1�66: “i-na re-e-še ù ar-ka-a-te i-na ṣe-li ki-lal-la-an mi-iḫ-ret 8 šārī (IM.MEŠ) 8 abullāti (KÁ�GAL�MEŠ) ap-te-e-ma.” Translation by Van de Mieroop 1999: 337: “In front and back on both sides, I opened up eight city-gates into the eight wind-directions�” For parallels to Enuma Elish see the discussion in Van de Mieroop, 1999: 337� Van de Mieroop, 1999: 337 with references. Pongratz-Leisten, 2015: 145–197. Fuchs, 1994: 294 no� 1�1 ll� 63–64 (building materials); Fuchs, 1994: 296 no� 1�1 ll� 72–74 (multilingual craftsmen)� Edition is Da Riva, 2008: 19–20; 121: (85–86) ˹i˺-˹na˺ e-pé-šu É.TEMEN.AN.KI e-miid-su-nu-ti tu-up-ši-ik-ku (123–132) gišEREN.MEŠ da-nu4-tim ul-tu kurla-ab-na-nim

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According to the text, two issues lie at the centre of imperial ideology. Firstly, the Neo-Babylonian Empire was extended over the known world by including all the lands which embodied the Assyrian empire as its predecessor�47 Secondly, the Babylonian king exemplifies his ability to rule over the world by ordering all inhabitants to come to the empire’s capital, Babylon, for a building project� Having power over all the lands and people gave Babylon the sheen of universal, and in further consequence, cosmic kingship� The idea of the imperial capital being a manifestation of the whole empire did not come to an end in the Achaemenid period� During the foundational phase of royal Achaemenid ideology during the reign of Darius I and Xerxes I, the extension of the empire was represented in the same way as their Assyrian and Babylonian predecessors did�48 Again, royal inscriptions took on the idea that craftsmen from all the empire’s provinces built the royal residence in Susa�49 This idea is of special significance in the Achaemenid period since the Great Kings claimed to rule over the entire world by equating their empire’s border with the Ocean (marratu) as the limit of the inhabited world, and even beyond that�50 As one can clearly see in this case, the Achaemenids did not only inherit Assyrian and Babylonian ideas of empire, but they expanded already existing claims to power�51 The persistence of the idea of the empire’s capital being the centre of the world in Achaemenid time reveals that cosmic kingship manifested in a central building was still a vivid image at the end of the 5th century when Herodotus wrote his Histories�52

47 48

49 50 51 52

a-na URU-ia KÁ.DINGIR-RAki i-ba-ab-ba lu-nim na-ap-ḫa-ar ni-ši da-ad-mi ra-apša-a-tim ša dAMAR.UTU be-li ia-ti iš-ru-kam i-na e-pé-šu É.TEMEN.AN.KI du-ullum ú-ša-aṣ-bi-it-su-nu-ti-ma e-mi-id-su-nu-ti tu-up-ši-ik-ku. Translation by Rollinger, 2016b: 145� Rollinger, 2016b: 145–146. Degen, 2019b; Rollinger, 2017a; Rollinger, 2016b; Head, 2010; Lanfranchi, 2003; Dandamayev 1997� DSf. Cf. Rollinger, 2008. Degen, 2019b: 61–67� See Rollinger, forthc. b. Rollinger / Degen, forthc. b; McKeon, 2020; Degen, 2019b; Rollinger, 2018; Whitby, 1999. In this case of Herodotus’ medikos logos Lincoln, 2007: 71 and Pananio, 2003 argue for an Achaemenid horizon of information. Sancisi-Weerdenburg, 1994 and Patzek, 2004 argue that Herodotus’ information on the Medes derives from oral sources� On Herodotus and his idea of the Achaemenids’ universal kingship, see Bichler / Rollinger, 2017.

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In conclusion, the battlements of Ecbatana were not intended to be an accurate report of the physical appearance of the Median capital� The sequence of colours is thus much more of an expression of the idea of cosmic kingship and speculation of empire�53 Finally, Deioces’ order to settle the Medes in Ecbatana and the emergence of the Median Empire ex nihilo are clues that Herodotus’ account is a speculation of power containing some ancient Near Eastern motifs in it� The Social Dimension: The Characteristics of Ancient Near Eastern Kingship in the Histories The most conspicuous part of the episode on Deioces is the establishment of court ceremonial� Finally, after completing his succession, Deioces ruled over the Medes in inaccessible isolation� Greek literature of the 4th century BCE already regarded the isolation of the Great King in a splendidly decorated palace as a topos for the presentation of Asian rulership�54 Although Greek accounts on Asian rulers differ in most cases from autochthonous sources, the image of the king ruling in isolation nevertheless remains valid if seen against the backdrop of ancient Near Eastern discourse on the accessibility of the ruler� A very telling source for assessing the interaction between king and subjects in Achaemenid times is the famous Bisitun inscription of Darius I. In the account on Darius’ accession to the throne, the characterisation of his opponent the Magus Gaumata, i�e�, the magus mistaken as murdered legitimate successor Smerdis, is of significance. The usurper Gaumata is finally aware of his lack of legitimacy, for which reason he is eager not to be seen by any of the Persian nobles in order to maintain his rulership. On the top of that, he kills all Persians who pose a threat to him so as to avoid his false identity being unveiled�55 The official version promoted by Darius goes as follows:

53

54 55

Bichler, 2008a: 100–101: “Ihre latente Symbolik, die auf babylonische Konzeptionen von den Planeten-Gestirnen und ihren Farb- und Metallwerten verweist, spielt bei Herodot keine weitere Rolle.” For a collection of the evidence available, see Degen, 2021� On the importance of physical violence during Darius’ accession to throne, see Schwinghammer, 2011a; Schwinghammer, 2011b�

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“Darius the king proclaims: There was no man, neither a Persian, nor a Mede, nor anyone of our family, who could take the kingship away from that Gaumata the magus� The people were very much afraid of him, (thinking that) he would kill many people who had known Bardiya previously� Here is the reason that he might have killed people: ‘Lest they know that I am not Bardiya, son of Cyrus�’ No one dared to say anything about Gaumata the magus, until I came. Then I invoked Auramazda; Auramazda brought me help� Ten days of the month Bagayadi were past (29 September 522), then I, with a few men, killed that Gaumata the magus, and his foremost followers� A fortress, by name Sikayahuvati, a district by name Nisaya, in Media, that is where I killed him. I took the kingship away from him; with the help of Auramazda, I became king; Auramazda granted me the kingship�”56

To understand the accounts of the Persians’ past in the Histories, it is of significance that the Halicarnassian was well aware of the Achaemenid version of Gaumata’s usurpation and Darius’ I successful coup d’état�57 Nevertheless, Herodotus and the Bisitun inscription differ in their settings� In the eyes of the Halicarnassian, Gaumata did not choose the Median fortress Sikayahuvati but the palace of Susa as his residence�58 This information takes on importance when we take Herodotus’ characterisation of the magus into account� Finally, a short time before Darius put his usurpation into action, Herodotus reveals important details to the reader: “This Otanes was the first to guess that the Magus was not Cyrus’ son Smerdis and who, in fact, he was; the reason was, that he never left the acropolis nor summoned any notable Persian into his presence…”59

There is no doubt that Herodotus presents an interpretatio Graeca to his readership by equating the residence of Gaumata with an ἀκρόπολις known to his Greek audience as the seat of a tyrant, like the residence of the Athenian Peisistratus and Polycrates of Samos.60 By this means,

56 57 58

59

60

DB (op�) §13 by Kuhrt, 2007: 143� Translated by A� Kuhrt� On Herodotus and DB see Erbse, 1992: 53; Wiesehöfer 1978� For critiques of Susa as a setting for the murder of Gaumata see Degen, 2017: 53; Dandamaev, 1976: 133–134� For Greek authors viewing Susa as the Achaemenid capital, see Nawotka, 2003: 71� Hdt. 3.68.2: οὗτος ὁ Ὀτάνης πρῶτος ὑπώπτευσε τὸν Μάγον ὡς οὐκ εἴη ὁ Κύρου Σμέρδις ἀλλ᾽ ὅς περ ἦν, τῇδε συμβαλόμενος, ὅτι τε οὐκ ἐξεφοίτα ἐκ τῆς ἀκροπόλιος καὶ ὅτι οὐκ ἐκάλεε ἐς ὄψιν ἑωυτῷ οὐδένα τῶν λογίμων Περσέων. Translated by A. D. Godley. Degen, 2017: 52–55�

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the use of vocabulary known from Greek discourse by Herodotus about rulership leaves no room for doubt that he was well aware of the isolation of Gaumata but he aimed to give his account a Greek varnish� Although Herodotus and later Greek authors viewed isolation as an inherent part of Asiatic kingship, the ancient Near Eastern view was quite different. In the case of Gaumata, isolation means the unsoundness of legitimacy of a ruler in the Persian context. Accessibility seems to have been an important part of the Achaemenid practice of monarchic power� For instance, in his tomb inscription Darius I claimed to settle differences between his subjects as a fair judge, which presumes accessibility of the ruler to the public�61 The management of empire, however, required a large corpus of administration, for which reason not everybody had the right to see the king but everybody could receive his dictate through officials. In addition, through the Persepolis Fortification Archive we know that delegations had direct access to the Great King�62 Be that as it may, on a few occasions Herodotus did make some precise distinctions from the topos of the inaccessible Asian king� Both a Lacedaemonian and an Athenian delegation, for instance, faced Xerxes I in his throne hall.63 The Greeks therefore experienced for themselves that gaining access to the Great King may not have been easy, but at least it was possible� The topos of the Asian king ruling in isolation in Greek literature can be seen as a wide generalisation of the hierarchisation in the Persian court system�64 However, there is evidence within the Histories that Herodotus did resuscitate the Greek idea of the inaccessible Asian ruler in the case of Deioces. After Darius I consolidated his power as first Achaemenid ruler, Herodotus leaves his reader in no doubt that accessibility to the Great King was regarded as a privilege:65 “For Otanes, then, they choose this particular honor; but with regard to all of them they decreed that any one of the seven should, if he wished, enter

61 62

63 64

65

DNb § 2c–2d in Kuhrt, 2007: 504� See PF 1313; PF 1314; PF 1315; PF 1316; PF 1319; PF 1320; PF 1324; PF 1359; PF 1364; PF 1437; PF 1438; PF 1449; PF 1455; PF 1477; PF 1486; PF 1507; PF 1518; PF 1528; PF 1534; PF 1535; PF 1536; PF 1560; PF 2052 in edition of Hallock, 1969. Hdt� 7�136; 151� Degen, 2017: 41–55; 58–59. Cf. Llewellyn-Jones, 2014; Jacobs / Rollinger, 2007; Kuhrt, 2007: 575–619� See the different arguments of Rollinger / Degen, forthc. a; Rollinger 1998; Henkelman, 2011; Jacobs, 2011�

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the king’s palace unannounced, except when the king was sleeping with a woman; and that the king should be forbidden to take a wife except from the households of the conspirators�”66

Herodotus presents us with an image of the Persian court in which only high aristocrats have direct access to the king� Nevertheless, it is possible to draw a few parallels between Deioces’ court organization and that of Darius; one remembers the usage of messengers by Deioces when reading the story of Tissaphernes’ wife begging Darius to pardon her husband�67 In the Persian context the Greek phrase ἐπὶ τὰς θύρας τοῦ βασιλέος (in front of the palace’s doors) draws a distinction between low-ranked and high-ranked subjects of the king through their right to see him�68 That structure of different spheres of publicity and accessibility is traceable to Neo-Assyrian times. In general, each Assyrian king had to represent himself in front of the inner circle of high-ranked persons and the outer circle of the subjects of his empire�69 All in all, it seems that Herodotus had the Persian court society, its system of visualizing high-ranked positions, and a circulating story about Gaumata in mind when he wrote his account about Deioces’ court ceremonial and the ruler’s inaccessible isolation�70 In a final step, the political background of Herodotus’ mediations on power in the medikos logos must be the next focus of the argumentation.

66

67 68 69 70

Hdt. 3.84.2: ταῦτα μὲν δὴ Ὀτάνῃ ἐξαίρετα, τάδε δὲ ἐς τὸ κοινὸν ἐβούλευσαν, παριέναι ἐς τὰ βασιλήια πάντα τὸν βουλόμενον τῶν ἑπτὰ ἄνευ ἐσαγγελέος, ἢν μὴ τυγχάνῃ εὕδων μετὰ γυναικὸς βασιλεύς, γαμέειν δὲ μὴ ἐξεῖναι ἄλλοθεν τῷ βασιλέι ἢ ἐκ τῶν συνεπαναστάντων. Translated by A. D. Godley. Hdt� 3�119�3� Rollinger / Wiesehöfer, 2009: 218; Bichler, 2010: 168. Radner, 2010; Parker, 2011: 369–374; Lanfranchi, 2010. One possible but unlikely influence on Herodotus could also have been a circulating tale about Esharhaddon who is the only example of an isolated Assyrian king to whom nearly nobody had access� This circumstance was due to the dermatosis of the king (esp� SAA 10 43) and the unstable political situation during the early phase of Esharhaddon’s reign, cf. Radner, 2003 (I want to thank Sebastian Fink for drawing my attention to this). How far the story of the inaccessible and isolated king found its way out of Assyria into the Aegean world is unknown and extremely unlikely. The Persian layer is in the case of Gaumata much more likely than the older Assyrian layer� Especially, Herodotus had some information about Assyria and made the audience of the Histories aware that in another book he would write about Assyrian history� According to Heller, 2015, Babylonian and Assyrian history does not fit into the Histories because Herodotus’ work concentrates on the origins of the war between Persians and Greeks.

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The Walls of Ecbatana Revisited: Athens on the Eve of the Peloponnesian War Through comparing the sizes of Ecbatana’s external wall with the walls of Athens, it becomes clear that Herodotus makes reference to the capital of the Athenian Empire of his own time�71 That Herodotus hints in some episodes about the Achaemenid Empire of his Histories to Athens as the leader of the Delian League is not an entirely new scholarly opinion�72 Thus, the intertextual dimension of the author’s critics on the Periclean Athens of his own time should not be neglected�73 Thanks to the work of the Athenian strategist Thucydides, we can get insights on Athenian policy in the time of the so-called Pentecontaetia. In Thucydides’ political analysis the rising power of Athens is depicted as the most important casus belli�74 It is of significance as well that Athens of Herodotus’ time was in the leading position within the Delian League, which served as a tool to establish power over all the leagues’ allies�75 The power of the city-state was visually manifested through the splendid building programs on its ἀκρόπολις, and what is more, through the (re-)construction of walls to secure the Polis’ support line to its two harbours situated nearby.76 Thucydides offers a vivid description on how this was achieved: “Themistocles also persuaded them to finish the walls of Piraeus, which had been begun before, in his year of office as archon; being influenced alike by the fineness of a locality that has three natural harbors, and by the great start which the Athenians would gain in the acquisition of power by becoming a naval people. For he first ventured to tell them to stick to the sea and forthwith began to lay the foundations of the empire. It was by his advice, too, that they built the walls of that thickness which can still be discerned round Piraeus, the stones being brought up by two wagons meeting each other� Between the walls thus formed there was neither rubble nor mortar, but great stones hewn square and fitted together, cramped to

71 72 73

74 75 76

Degen / Rollinger, 2020; Bichler, 2008a: 100–101. Degen / Rollinger, 2020; Blösel, 2012. For dating the Histories in the final phase of the Peloponnesian War, see Irwin, 2014 and Irwin, 2017. See also Degen / Rollinger, 2020; Ruffing, 2016; Ruffing, 2010; Ruffing, 2009; Raaflaub, 2002. Thuc� 1�23�4� See also the narratological analysis of Ellis, 1994� About Athens’ imperial attitude and its perception see Kehne, 2014� Hornblower, 1991: 135 on Thuc� 1�56�

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each other on the outside with iron and lead� About half the height that he intended was finished.”77

These two walls, the so-called “Long Walls” and the “Phaleric Wall”, were perceived as a tool to exercise and maintain Athenian sea power since they secured Athens’ access to vital harbours. Further, this fortification system helped to establish or organize its naval force, which was perceived as the foundations of the empire (τὴν ἀρχὴν εὐθὺς ξυγκατεσκεύαζεν). Thus, the physical appearance of Athens’ fortification appeared to be twice as great as it was (τὴν δύναμιν εἰκάζεσθαι ἀπὸ τῆς φανερᾶς ὄψεως τῆς πόλεως ἢ ἔστιν).78 It is of significance, that the construction of such a huge fortification caused serious political troubles in Hellas� According to Thucydides, and later on Xenophon, the construction of the fortification system was the harbinger of Athens’ expansionism.79 By this means, the cyclic walls of Athens80 and the two additional walls were the symbols of the “tyrant city” (πόλιν τύραννον).81 Thus, it is beyond doubt that Thucydides regarded the walls as “the ultimate symbol of power” of Athens and as a landmark of her imperialism�82 If one considers all the cloaked allusions in the episode on Deioces’ raise to power, the argument leaves no room for doubt that Herodotus described the corruption of Delian League as συμμαχία by its Athens as her ἡγεμών.83 Just as Deioces founded the first empire of Asia, Athens did the same through transforming συμμαχία to ἀρχή.84 Finally, in the eyes of Herodotus, both the Median ruler and Athens used buildings as tools for empire� As we see, although Herodotus places medikos logos in Asia, the echo of the Delian League, nevertheless, resonates in the account on the establishment of Median kingship by Deioces�

77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84

Thuc� 1�93�3–5� Thuc� 1�10�2� Thuc� 1�69�1; Xen� Hell� 2�2; 2�2�12–15; 20; 23� Thuc� 1�89�3; Xen� Hell� 2�4�11� Thuc� 1�124�3� Hornblower, 1991: 135 with the scholarly debate� The Delian League was founded as συμμαχία� Cf� Petzhold, 1994. Degen / Rollinger, 2020.

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Conclusion The account of Herodotus on Deioces’ raise to power is neither solely based on ancient Near Eastern nor Greek information� Although the setting of the episode is Asia, the episode gains in importance when one reads it through the lens of Greek power politics in the time of the Delian League. This, however, does not understate the significance of ancient Near Eastern ideas for the episode. The latter take on greater significance when one compares them with ideas of empire of universal rule in the context of the first empires of the 1st millennium BCE. In this regard, the Herodotean account of the construction of Ecbatana has parallels with ancient Near Eastern imagination of the imperial capital embodying the centre of empire. Seen from this perspective, the Deioces episode reflects both Mesopotamian and Persian ideas of empire, but Herodotus did not pen the account with the purpose of providing his audience with proper information on the history of Asia. Finally, it is of significance, if one goes into details about the Median court system, that Herodotus had the Achaemenid court in mind rather than relying on information from the time of the Medes� At the end, the emergence of Media and the kingship of Deioces are more allusions to the Athenian Empire of Herodotus’ own time with an Asian décor than a report on the history of Asia in preAchaemenid times� By this means, the palace of Deioces is a Herodotean construct of great complexity consisting partly of “Western” and “Eastern” ideas of empire. As one sees in Polybius’ designation of a description of the palace having come upon him as “picturesque writing”,85 the true acceptation of the Ecbatana in the Histories became abstruse in postHerodotean times�

Abbreviations Bab� = Babylonian CAD 13 = Reiner, E. / Biggs, R. D. (eds.), 1982: Chicago Assyrian Dictionary 13 Q� Chicago� CDOG = Colloquien der deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft DB = Darius’ I inscription at rock Bisitun. DNb = Darius’ I tomb inscription at Naqsh-i Rustam.

85

Plb. 10.27.8.

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DSf = Darius’ I foundation inscription of Susa. Op. = Old Persian RIMA 1 = Grayson, A. K., 1987: Assyrian Rulers of the Third and Second Millennia BC (to 1115 BC). Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia Assyrian Periods 2� Toronto� RIMA 2 = Grayson, A. K., 1991: Assyrian Rulers of the Early First Millennium BC I (1114-859 BC). Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia Assyrian Periods 2� Toronto� SAA 10 = Parpola, S., 1993: Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian scholars� State Archives of Assyria 10� Helsinki�

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The Mazarrón 1 Shipwreck: Construction Details, Original Function and Cultural Affiliation of an Iron Age Boat from the Iberian Peninsula Carlos Cabrera Tejedor Two Iron Age shipwrecks, associated with abundant ceramics of Phoenician origin, were discovered at the Playa de la Isla in Mazarrón, Spain. This paper will discuss the presence of mixed shipbuilding techniques and hitherto unknown boat building features documented on the Mazarrón 1 hull remains� There is evidence to suggest that an indigenous shipwright from the Iberian Peninsula built the Mazarrón 1 boat. Although he had knowledge of Eastern Mediterranean shipbuilding innovations (i�e�, pegged mortise-and-tenon joints) introduced in the Western Mediterranean by the Phoenicians, he retained traces of his own indigenous shipbuilding traditions in the construction of the hull� For all of the above, the hull of Mazarrón 1 seems to present hybrid boat building techniques representing an important source of information for increasing our understanding of ancient shipbuilding, and its development, in the Western Mediterranean during the Iron Age. Key words: Mazarrón I shipwreck, shipbuilding, naval architecture, T-shaped scarf, longitudinal continuous stitching, Phoenicians, Iron Age, Iberian Peninsula. Introduction From the 117 wreck sites found in the shores of the Mediterranean dated before c. 300 BC that Parker compiled (1992: 10–12), only eleven have preserved hull remains (McGrail, 2001: 145)� Thus, ancient shipwrecks found in the western Mediterranean that provide us with information about shipbuilding and its development before the Roman Era are relatively scarce. Since the publication of Parker (1992) only a handful of shipwrecks dated before c. 300 BC (and with hull remains preserved) have been

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reported. Among those, two Iron Age shipwrecks, associated with abundant ceramics of Phoenician origin, were discovered at the Playa de la Isla in Mazarrón, Spain. This paper discusses the presence of mixed shipbuilding techniques and hitherto unknown boat-building features documented on the Mazarrón 1 hull remains. Through comparative study of analogous wrecks, the paper further argues that the Mazarrón 1 shipwreck represents an important source of information for increasing our understanding of ancient shipbuilding and its development during the Iron Age. The hull remains of Mazarrón 1 (Fig. 1) currently on display at the Spanish National Museum of Underwater Archaeology (ARQVA) reveal a number of shipbuilding features which, despite their uniqueness, have barely been mentioned in previous publications of the wreck� This partly inspired this detailed study and reconstruction of the vessel to be undertaken� The Mazarrón 1 hull has not been archaeologically recorded and/ or documented since the excavation of the timber remains in 1995 because they underwent lengthy conservation treatment that lasted until 2007. Therefore, this project was the first and only officially approved post-excavation study of the Mazarrón 1 timber remains conducted by a researcher—myself—other than that by the original excavators.1 The initial study was completed in different phases from 2006 to 2009, which included a one-day direct inspection of the hull remains conducted in 2008 (Cabrera Tejedor, 2017: 180–183)� First, this paper aims to supplement previous publications of the Mazarrón 1 shipwreck which described but sketchily a number of unique shipbuilding features of Mazarrón 1; it provides a concise but complete summary of all the previously published information about the Mazarrón 1 shipwreck, and indirectly some of the Mazarrón 2 used here as comparanda� The rationale behind this decision is that some previous papers/reports are found in rather obscure publications and a few remain unpublished� Second, the paper briefly presents the results of a preliminary reconstruction of the Mazarrón 1 hull reported elsewhere (Cabrera Tejedor, 2017; 2018; 2020)� Finally, the paper discusses the results of the preliminary study of the Mazarrón 1 remains, re-examining previous interpretations which suggested the vessel was of Phoenician origin, and proposing new hypotheses regarding

1

The official permit was granted on June 2008 (Nº Ref. CCJD/DGBABC/SME, Nº Expte. 34/08) and access to the materials at the ARQVA Museum was granted on August 2008 (Nº Rº de salida, 568/2008 - Museo ARQVA) to both the Mazarrón 1 timber remains and the archive collections (i�e�, photographs)�

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the nature, function, and origin of some of the construction techniques documented in the hull� The excavation of Mazarrón 1 The underwater archaeological site of Playa de la Isla was discovered in 1988 during a series of coastal archaeological surveys by a team overseen by the then director of the Museo Nacional de Arqueología Marítima y Centro Nacional de Investigaciones Arqueológicas Submarinas (MNAMCNIAS), Mr Victor Antona del Val (Cabrera, et al., 1992: 38; 1997: 150; Roldán et al., 1994: 503; Barba et al., 1993: 196; Negueruela et al., 2000: 1671)� Subsequent surveys, overseen by a new Director of the MNAMCNIAS, Ms Paloma Cabrera, discovered the remains of a wooden boat (Fig. 2), designated Mazarrón 1, which was protected in situ in July 1991 (Cabrera et al., 1992: 38; 1997: 151; Barba et al., 1993: 196; Negueruela et al., 2000: 1671)� From October 1993 to June 1995 a systematic investigation of the area was initiated with a project called ‘Nave Fenicia’ (Arellano et al., 1995; Barba et al., 1993: 197; Negueruela et al., 2000: 1671). In 1993, Mr Ivan Negueruela began his appointment as new Director of the MNAM-CNIAS and in that role he oversaw the work at Playa de la Isla. In 1994 the remains of a second shipwreck were discovered and designated Mazarrón 2 (Arellano et al., 1995: 221; Negueruela et al., 2000: 1673–1674). In 1995 the hull remains of Mazarrón 1 were raised and transferred to the MNAM-CNIAS to begin conservation that lasted until 2007 (Gómez-Gil / Sierra, 1996). From 1988 until 1995 the only field director (and permit co-holder) that conducted both the surveys of the Playa de la Isla underwater site and the excavation of the Mazarrón 1 shipwreck was the archaeologist Mr Juan Pinedo Reyes. Structural elements of the Mazarrón 1 hull The hull2 of the Mazarrón 1 shipwreck was found largely incomplete without any cargo inside, but in a relatively good state of preservation (Fig� 2)� The preserved hull timbers consist of a complete keel,3 nine incomplete

2

3

Hull� The main body of a ship or other vessel, including the bottom, sides, and deck but not the masts, superstructure, rigging, engines, and other fittings (Oxford English Dictionary)� Keel� The main longitudinal timber of most hulls, upon which the frames, deadwoods, and ends of the hull were mounted; the backbone of the hull (Steffy, 1994: 273)�

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starboard strakes4 of planking5 including one fragmented garboard6 plank, and four incomplete and fragmented frames7 (Fig� 3) (Negueruela, 2000a: 183; 2002: 167; 2004: 230; 2006: 24; 2014: 243; Negueruela et al., 2000: 1673–1674)� During the inspection of 2008 the timber remains were divided into two groups: a first group, comprising keel, garboard strake and second strake; a second group, comprising the preserved side of the hull from the third to the eighth strakes, yet lacking the ninth strake and the frames (Fig� 4)� Both groups of timbers were lying over supports made ad hoc, resting on the outside surface� This allowed inspection of the internal surfaces only� Previous publications of the Mazarrón 1 and 2 (Cabrera et al., 1992; 1997; Roldán et al. 1994; Arellano et al., 1995; Barba et al., 1993; Negueruela, 2000a; 2000b; 2002; 2004; 2006; 2014; Negueruela et al., 1995; 1998; 2000; 2004; Miñano et al., 2012; Miñano, 2014) described some of the main structural elements of their hulls� However, other elements are barely mentioned. The Mazarrón 1 hull is reported to have ‘the same construction method and fairly similar overall dimensions (sic�)’ as that of the Mazarrón 2 (Negueruela, 2004: 230; 2006: 24; 2014: 243). The claim that both hulls were made using the same construction method is disputable since, as we are about to see, there are construction elements present in the hull of Mazarrón 1 that have not been reported as present in the hull of Mazarrón 2 (e.g., longitudinal continuous stitching). This discrepancy made their construction only partially similar (e�g�, both hulls have pegged mortise-and-tenons fasteners)� To illustrate this there follows a brief summary of the main shipbuilding elements of the Mazarrón 1 boat which includes hitherto unpublished features; this information is supplemented with some shipbuilding features present on the Mazarrón 2 boat published to date for comparanda�

4 5 6

7

Strake� A continuous line of planks, running from bow to stern (Steffy, 1994: 281)� Planking. The outer lining, or shell, of a hull (Steffy, 1994: 277). Garboard strake. The strake of planking next to the keel; the lowest plank. Also, the lowest side strake of a flat-bottomed hull (Steffy, 1994: 272). Frame� A transverse timber, or line or assembly of timbers, that described the body shape of a vessel and to which the planking and ceiling were fastened (���) (Steffy, 1994: 271)�

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Keel The keel of Mazarrón 1 has been preserved almost completely (Fig. 3). The aft8 end has some damage (Cabrera et al., 1997: 151–52; Negueruela et al., 2000: 1672) produced by biological attack� The keel dimensions are reported as 3�98 m in length by 170 mm sided and 100 mm molded9 (Cabrera et al., 1997: 151–52; Negueruela, 2002: 165 fig. 3 and 167; Negueruela et al., 2000: 1675 fig. 1), although during documentation of the keel in 2008 the maximum width recorded was only 155 mm. The keel has been reported as 4�50 m long (Negueruela, 2004: 230; 2006: 24; 2014: 243), yet this is not compatible with the evidence (Fig. 3). It has a rectangular cross-section amidships10, presents no rabbet11, and its bottom longitudinal edges are chamfered12 (Fig. 5). Wood species identification analysis conducted on samples taken from Mazarrón 1 in 1997 determined that the keel is made of Cupressus sempervirens L. (Negueruela, 2004: 236–237; 2006: 25), the common name of which is cypress wood, yet it has been mistakenly described as cedar on two occasions (Negueruela, 2004: 237; Miñano, 2014: 6)� The fore13 end of the Mazarrón 1 keel presents a unique type of scarf.14 This scarf was briefly mentioned by Negueruela et al. (1995: 196; 2000: 1673; Negueruela 2002; 167) but was not fully published until recently (Cabrera Tejedor, 2017: 200–203)� The scarf between the keel and the stem15 could be described as a special tongue and groove joint� However,

8 9 10

11

12

13

14

15

Aft. At, near, or towards the stern of a ship (Oxford English Dictionary). Molded dimension� (���) the vertical surfaces (the sides) of keels (���) (Steffy, 1994: 275)� Amidships� The middle of a vessel, either longitudinally or transversely (Steffy, 1994: 266)� Rabbet. A groove or cut made in a piece of timber in such a way that the edges of another piece could be fit into it to make a tight joint. Generally, the term refers to the grooves cut into the sides of the keel, stem, and sternpost, into which the garboards and hooding ends of the outer planking were seated (Steffy, 1994: 277)� Chamfer. The flat, sloping surface created by slicing the edge off a timber (Steffy, 1994: 269)� Fore. Situated or placed in front (Oxford English Dictionary) near or towards the bow of a ship� Scarf� An overlapping joint used to connect two timbers or planks without increasing their dimensions (Steffy, 1994: 279)� Stem� A vertical or upward curving timber or assembly of timbers, scarfed to the keel or central plank at its lower end, into which the two sides of the bow were joined (Steffy, 1994: 280)�

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instead of having a single tenon16 it has two perpendicular tenons, one positioned above though not touching the other� The top tenon is arranged horizontally and the lower one vertically, creating a T-shape scarf (Fig� 5)� The vertical tenon of the ‘T’ shape scarf is slightly damaged on its upper end� Additionally, the uppermost edge of the scarf was carved to create an inverted oblique angle of approximately 70º; this feature would have helped to secure the joint between keel and stem under vertical stress� The stem of Mazarrón 1 was not preserved, so matching mortises17 can only be hypothesized� The aft end of the keel also seems to have had the same type of scarf (Fig� 6), although it is not so clearly recognizable due to damage� This hypothesis cannot be confirmed until further analysis of the timber has been conducted� Planking and mortise-and-tenon joints Within the wood remains of the Mazarrón 1 hull, nine incomplete strakes of planking, including one fragmented garboard plank, were found� During the inspection of the hull remains conducted in 2008, it was observed that the width of the planks ranges from c. 13 cm to c. 14 cm, except for the eighth strake which is wider, between c. 21–22 cm. It was observed that plank thickness is c. 36 mm. Third, fourth, sixth and eighth strakes have diagonal scarfs (Fig� 3) which do not present pegged mortise-and-tenon joints18 on their edges, except for the one at the eighth strake. The eighth strake is wider and reported to be thicker than the rest of the planking; it presents mortises that do not match the adjacent strakes and, consequently, it has been interpreted as being a reused plank from a different hull

16

17

18

Tenon� A wooden projection cut from the end of a timber or a separate wooden piece that was shaped to fit into a corresponding mortise (Steffy, 1994: 281). Mortise� A cavity cut into a timber to receive a tenon� Large mortises were sometimes referred to as steps (Steffy, 1994: 276)� Mortise-and-tenon joints� (���) The most common method of edge-joining planking in ancient and early medieval vessels in the Mediterranean area, it also was used to secure adjoining surfaces of parallel timbers such as stems and floor timber chocks. Corresponding mortises were cut into each planking edge; a single hardwood tenon was inserted into the lower plank and the adjacent plank fitted over the protruding tenon. In many instances the joint was locked by driving tapered hardwood pegs into holes drilled near each strake or timber edge (Steffy, 1994: 276)�

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(Negueruela et al., 2000: 1673), perhaps used in the Mazarrón 1 hull as a repair (Negueruela, 2002: 167)� The main fastening system used to assemble the hull of Mazarrón 1 was pegged mortise-and-tenon joints (Fig� 7) (Basch, 1972: 15)� This type of fastening was used for shipbuilding in the Mediterranean at least from the Late Bronze Age. It is archaeologically documented for the first time in the Uluburun shipwreck, dated to c.1320 BC (Pulak, 1998; 2005; 2008). The hull timber remains of this shipwreck were only fragments of the keel and planking� Only half of a tenon survived from the hull of the Cape Gelidonya shipwreck dated to c.1200 BC (Bass, 1967; Pulak, 1998). However, the directors believe that its construction method was similar to the Uluburun shipwreck (Pulak, 1998: 210). The two boats found in Mazarrón are the next earliest-known archaeological examples using pegged mortise-andtenon joints (Negueruela, 2002: 167; 2004: 246; 2006: 27; 2014: 243; Negueruela et al., 1995: 195; 2000: 1673; Negueruela et al., 2004: 480)� Cato the Elder described the use of pegged mortise-and-tenon joinery (De Agri, XVIII, 9) and defined them as ‘Punic joints’ (punicanis coagmentis)� It became known under this name in the Roman world (Sleeswyk, 1980: 243) where it was widely used for shipbuilding (Steffy, 1994: 43, 46, 77– 78, 83–84; Casson, 1995: 203)� During the inspection of the hull remains conducted in 2008 it was observed that mortises in the Mazarrón 1 hull are, on average, 30–36 mm wide, 8–10 mm thick, and 60–80 mm deep. Tenons fit their mortises tightly in both thickness and width. Pegs19 are cylindrical in section with diameters of 7–10 mm, although the majority are 8 mm (Fig� 7)� The spacing between pegs was rather difficult to document in some strakes since a layer of pine tar covers large areas of the hull planking (GómezGil / Sierra, 1996: 219) (Fig� 1)� However, when pegs were covered by the tar its approximate position was documented with a practical method: mortises and remains of tenons present on the planks’ edges were located by carefully observing through the open seams of the strakes� The documented spacing of those pegs varies substantially depending on the strake (Fig� 08), but two distinct areas with different arrangements could be identified (Fig. 09). First, on the keel garboard strake and on the second strake, spacing between pegs varies from 110–240 mm (195 mm

19

Peg. A tapered wooden pin driven into a pre-drilled hole to fasten two members or lock a joint (���)� The most common use of pegs in ancient construction was the locking of mortise-and-tenon joints (Steffy, 1994: 277)�

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on average) and is more closely spaced towards the ends of each timber. In contrast, a second area was observed from the seam of the third and fourth strakes up to the ninth, yet not without difficulty since this part of the hull is largely covered by pine tar; here the method of locating the mortises and remains of tenons present on the planks’ edges, observing through the open seams of the strakes, was especially useful (vide supra). In this second area documented pegs are widely spaced, varying from 280–520 mm (400 mm on average). It was observed that tenons seem to be slightly larger in this second area than in the lower part of the hull� Wood species identification analysis, conducted on samples taken from Mazarrón 1 in 1997 determined that the planking is made of pine wood (Pinus sp.), whereas tenons and pegs are made of olive wood (Olea europea L.) (Negueruela, 2004: 236–237; 2006: 25)� Stitching of the planking It was reported that the seams of the Mazarrón 1 planking have chamfered edges and that thin ropes were placed in the resulting grooves� These ropes served as waterproofing material and were held in the grooves with a simple stitching (Negueruela, 2000a: 196; 2002: 167; Negueruela et al�, 2000: 1673)� The initial hypothesis was that these ropes held by the stitching were used to help strengthen the union between planks and make the plank seams watertight (Negueruela et al�, 2000: 1673); although in later publications only the watertight function was proposed (Gómez-Gil / Sierra, 1996: 219; Negueruela, 2002: 167). The waterproofing rope and the stitching are visible in the only in situ detailed photograph published to date (Fig� 10) and their arrangement was also schematically described in a drawing (Fig. 11) (NAVIS II website: Mazarrón 1 webpage). Chamfered edges, waterproofing ropes, and stitching were reported to have been documented from the seams between the second and third strakes up to the seams of the ninth strakes (Negueruela et al., 2000: 1673)� The initial documentation of the stitching present on the seams of the planking could be perceived upon careful examination of the only in situ archaeological drawing from the excavation published to date (Negueruela et al., 1995: fig. 11). Unfortunately, only scant remains of the waterproofing ropes and the original stitching have survived the extraction/conservation process since they were not readily apparent within the Mazarrón 1 hull remains when examined in 2008 (Fig. 10). Consequently, the remains of the longitudinal continuous stitching can now only be recognized from the chamfered edges and the pre-drilled sewing holes along the plank edges�

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Although the stitching of the planking present on the Mazarrón 1 hull was briefly mentioned (Gómez-Gil / Sierra, 1996; Negueruela, 2000a: 196; 2002: 167; Negueruela et al., 2000: 1673), the original excavators never described them in detail� The stitching has been fully described only recently (Cabrera Tejedor, 2017: 200–203) and what follows are the details observed during the inspection of the hull remains conducted in 2008� Each plank edge is chamfered at an angle of c. 45º and presents a series of perforations made to create the sewing holes along its length� It was noticeable that the sewing holes on adjacent planks were disposed diagonally to one another and not in opposite pairs (Fig� 12)� They have an approximate diameter of c. 2 mm and sit at a fairly regular spacing of c. 20–25 mm apart (Fig� 12)� They are arranged only c. 5 mm apart from the edge of the plank; they seem to bore through the plank at an approximate angle of 90º (i.e., perpendicular to the plank‘s face and parallel to its edge) from the interior surface of the plank to its outer surface. Unfortunately, this could not be confirmed since the external surfaces of the hull were not available for inspection (vide supra)� However, the hypothesis that the sewing holes bore through the planks at approximately 90º is supported by the following observations: first, given the proximity the perforations to the edge of each strake (ca. 5 mm), there is hardly any space for the perforation to bore the plank at an oblique angle. In fact, in the observed planks with chamfered edges that present perforations in the internal face of the hull no exit holes were documented in the inner edges of the planks (Figs� 13 and 14)� Consequently, the perforations must bore through the plank completely, from the interior of the hull to its external surface; second, in the inner edges of some the planks a few cracks were documented and they seem to be related to the perforations� These cracks seem to have resulted from the stress sustained by the hull planking, cracking the small wood interstice between the perforation and the edge of the plank� The few documented cracks are perpendicular to the face of the plank at an angle of approximately 90° (Fig� 14); third, one plank fragment that seems to have been recovered from Mazarrón 2 clearly presents the same 90° perpendicular perforations for creating sewing holes and it also has a perpendicular crack (vide infra, Fig� 20)� Given all the above, the perforations made to create the sewing holes seem to bore through the strakes completely and at an angle of approximately 90° (i.e., perpendicular to the face of the plank). It was observed that there are no remains of the longitudinal continuous stitching (i�e�, chamfered edges and sewing holes) along the keel-garboard

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seams or those between the garboards and the second strakes� From the outer edge of the second strake upwards, chamfered edges and the stitching appears to have been present in the remaining strake seams (including the scarfs) up to the seams between the seventh and eighth strakes (Fig� 11)� This observation refutes the statement that chamfered edges and stitching were documented on the seam between the eighth and ninth strakes (Negueruela et al., 2000: 1673) or that it only occurs in two small areas within the hull (De Juan, 2017: fig. 8). The only preserved end of any of the surviving strakes of the Mazarrón 1 hull is the fore end of the second strake (Fig� 3)� This end, which was originally fastened to the stem with pegged mortise-and-tenon joints, presents neither chamfered edges nor sewing holes to accommodate the stitching� This attests that the stem of Mazarrón 1 did not have any sewing, at least on the second strake. Observation of the scant surviving evidence suggests that a string tightly passed through the sewing holes; accordingly, it seems that it had an approximate thickness of c. 2 mm. Upon careful observation of the only photograph published, it could be tentatively estimated that the waterproofing ropes had an approximate thickness of c. 8 mm (Figs� 10, 11)� The balance of evidence suggests that the waterproofing ropes were used in the aforementioned planking seams inboard alone; in the only schematic drawing of the stitching published by the excavators (Fig. 11) it is represented inboard and not otherwise. Nonetheless, this cannot be confirmed since the external surfaces of the hull were not available for inspection. It was reported that the waterproofing ropes were stranded (Negueruela et al., 2000: 1673); careful observation of the only photograph published (Fig. 11) seems to suggest that both waterproofing ropes and the string of the stitching were indeed stranded. Fibre identification analysis conducted on a rope sample taken from Mazarrón 1 in 1997 stated that it was made of esparto grass (Stipa tenacissima L.) (Negueruela, 2004: 236–237)� The documentation of the Mazarrón 1 hull remains conducted in 2008 confirmed that the schematic drawing describing the stitching (Fig. 11) is a correct graphic reconstruction of the arrangement (although it does not depict the angle with which the perforations—made to create the sewing holes—bore through the planks)�

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Cylindrical frames In the timber remains of Mazarrón 1 four fragmented frames were found (Figs� 1 and 3)� These frames were described as lightly worked branches wood (Negueruela, 2004: 237; 2014: 244)� They are cylindrical in section, reported to be of 60–65 mm in diameter (Gómez-Gil / Sierra, 1996: 219) or 70–80 mm in diameter (Cabrera, et al., 1997: 152), with room and space of about 45 cm (centre to centre). Wood species identification analysis, conducted on samples taken from Mazarrón 1 in 1997, determined that the frames are made of fig wood (Ficus carica L.) (Negueruela, 2004: 236–237; 2006: 25, 29)� The frames of Mazarrón 2 are also reported to be cylindrical in section, 40 mm in diameter with room and space ranging from 40–50 cm (Negueruela, 2004: 249; 2006: 29; 2014: 244)� They lie over the keel but were not fastened to it (Negueruela, 2004: 249–250; 2006: 29–30)� According to wood species identification analysis conducted in 2010, they are reported to be made of wood from the genus Juniperus, (Miñano, 2014: 9)� In the case of Mazarrón 1, some of the lashing cords were preserved in situ (Negueruela et al., 2000: 1673); when examined in 2008, only lashing points survived and they were recorded within the hull remains between the seams of different strakes (Fig� 15)� The frames were lashed to the hull through sets of paired holes (i�e�, four points) drilled on either side of each frame so that the ligatures crossed over the top of the frame forming an X shape (Negueruela, 2004: 249; 2006: 29; 2014: 244)� The sets of paired lashing points were positioned with two on each side of a strake seam (Negueruela, 2004: 245, 249–250; 2006: 29–30; 2014: 244; Miñano, 2014: 10). The lashing points of Mazarrón 1 are 6 mm in diameter and c. 40 mm apart from each other (Fig. 15). It was not possible to document the angle at which the lashing points were bored� After drilling the lashing points, several individual lashings were tied to fasten each frame to the hull� De Juan (2014: 29) offers a hypothetical reconstruction of how the Mazarrón 2 individual lashings were tied. These types of cylindrical frames seem to have an archaeological parallel in the Golo wreck (Pomey 2012: 26). Additionally, the type of lashing used to fasten the frames to the hull seems to have an archaeological parallel in the Benissafúller wreck (De Juan et al., 2010: 65)� However, the frames of this wreck are reportedly trapezoidal in section, instead of cylindrical (De Juan et al., 2010: 66)�

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Mast-step In the Mazarrón 1 shipwreck no mast-step20 was found but its existence within the original hull is suggested by the presence of six mortises on the upper side of the keel to which the mast-step would have been secured (Fig. 16). However, the configuration of these mortises differs from that of Mazarrón 2 (vide infra). The six mortises preserved on the keel of the Mazarrón 1 hull are all longitudinally arranged, yet with a different configuration. Four are located towards the bow21 in a squared arrangement; the remaining two are aligned in a straight line aft of the other mortises� The evidence suggests that the four preserved fore mortises seem to have been positioned around the large mortise, or step, into which the tenoned heel of the Mazarrón 1 mast22 was seated� Direct evidence of the position of the large mortise (which housed the heel of the mast) located at the fore end of a mast-step in an ancient vessel was clearly documented in the c. 400 BC Ma’agan Mikhael shipwreck; the study of this shipwreck also proved the need of a mast partner,23 in conjunction to the mast-step, to firmly secure the mast in place (Steffy, 1994: 40–41; Linder et al�, 2003: 105; Kahanov / Pomey, 2004: 7–8). Having identified the original position of the now lost mast-step of the Mazarrón 1 boat, and its fore end with the step where the mast was seated, we can identify two things: the position of the bow and the stern24 of the vessel; and that the preserved strakes found within the hull remains are those corresponding to the starboard25 side of the original vessel� In the Mazarrón 2 shipwreck a mast-step of 0.98 m in length was reported (Negueruela, 2004: 241; 2006: 26), whereas Miñano (2014: 7)

20

21

22

23

24 25

Mast-step. A mortise cut into the top of a keelson or large floor timber, or a mortised wooden block or assembly of blocks mounted on the floor timbers or keelson, into which the tenoned heel of a mast was seated (Steffy, 1994: 275)� Bow. The forward part of a hull, specifically, from the point where the sides curve inward to the stem (Steffy, 1994: 268)� Mast� A tall upright post, spar, or other structure on a ship or boat, in sailing vessels generally carrying a sail or sails (Oxford English Dictionary). Partner. The timbers surrounding the deck openings for masts, pumps, bitts, and capstans; their primary purpose was to strengthen the deck around the opening and counteract strain. Partners were also used on occasion to steady masts on undecked vessels (Steffy, 1994: 276)� Stern� The after end of a vessel (Steffy, 1994: 280)� Starboard� The right side of a vessel when facing forward (Steffy, 1994: 280)�

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has stated that the mast-step is 104 cm in length, 10 cm in width, and 6 cm in height. The mast-step of Mazarrón 2 is fastened to the keel through five mortise-and-tenon joints: four longitudinally arranged in a straight line, whereas the aft one is arranged perpendicularly (Negueruela, 2004: 241; Miñano, 2014: 7)� The mast-step is in direct contact with the keel and is notched over two of the cylindrical frames with transverse pseudorectangular slots made ad hoc on its base (Miñano, 2014: 7, fig. 5). Through-beams In the case of Mazarrón 1 shipwreck, no through-beams26 were reported to be found because the uppermost extents of the hull were lost (Figs. 1–3). In contrast, in the Mazarrón 2 shipwreck, several through-beams were documented. These were secured to the hull with dovetail ends fitted into ad hoc notches made in the upper edge of the eighth strakes (Negueruela, 2004: 241, 250–251; 2006: 26, 31–32; 2014: 244)� The ends of the throughbeams protruded outside the hull (Fig� 17) and were locked in place by the row of strakes inserted after them (Negueruela, 2004: 242, 272 figs. 21, 22; 2006: 40 fig. 26; 2014: 244). Nevertheless, on the scant preserved remains of the eighth and ninth strakes of Mazarrón 1 there are two features that could potentially be the partial remains of dovetailed notches� On the upper aft edge of each strake there is an angular feature which seems to have been cut to create a dovetailed notch� Only half a dovetailed notch seems to have been preserved on each strake� These could potentially be the remains of a notch where the end of a through-beam would have been fitted (Fig. 18). In the Mazarrón 2 shipwreck the through-beams were reported to be fitted on the eighth strakes (Negueruela, 2004: 241, 250–251; 2006: 26, 31–32; 2014: 244). The eighth strake of Mazarrón 1 is wider, reported to be thicker than the others, and has been reused from another ship (Negueruela et al., 2000: 1674; Negueruela, 2002: 25)� Marlier (2005: 138) suggested that the eighth strake of Mazarrón 1 could have been a

26

Through-beam. An athwartships timber that extended through and beyond the outer hull planking� Through-beams were most common on ancient and medieval hulls where they supported the quarter rudders or provided athwartships stiffness to the upper part of the hull (Steffy, 1994: 281)�

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wale27 strake. These observations render the eighth strake of Mazarrón 1 as a good potential candidate to fit through-beams. Unfortunately, the aft broken fragment of the ninth plank (i.e., strake) of Mazarrón 1 was not present during the examination of the hull remains in 2008 (Fig. 4) and it has been impossible to inspect the Mazarrón 1 timber remains since� Alas, direct observation from outside the museum cabinet does not allow for either complete confirmation or dismissal of these hypotheses about the presence of through-beams on the eighth and/ or ninth strakes� Nevertheless, there seems to be indirect and analogous evidence to suggest that through-beams were used in the construction of the Mazarrón 1 hull. Consequently, for the reconstruction of Mazarrón 1, a minimum solution construction was adopted resulting in six through-beams: two at the stern, two amidships, and two at the bow all fitted on the eighth strakes (Fig� 23)� Waterproofing of the hull The final step in the construction process consisted of waterproofing the hull with a protective coating of resinous material� Abundant remains of a protective coating are noticeable on the hull remains of Mazarrón 1 (Negueruela, 2002: 167) (Fig� 1)� A preliminary chemical analysis conducted on samples taken from Mazarrón 1 in 1997 stated that the coating material was copal resin, which led to some preliminary erroneous interpretations about the boat (Negueruela, 2004: 255; 2006: 25)� Further analyses, conducted in 2002, concluded that the coating was pine tar made from heating pine resin (Negueruela, 2004: 235–236; 2006: 25)� Therefore, waterproofing the Mazarrón 1 hull was achieved by applying pine tar, both internally and externally (Negueruela, 2002: 167). In the case of Mazarrón 2, it was reported that the hull was coated with pine tar (Negueruela, 2004: 251–252) both internally and externally (Negueruela et al., 2000: 1674)�

27

Wale� A thick strake of planking, or a belt of thick planking strakes, located along the side of a vessel for the purpose of girding and stiffening the outer hull (Steffy, 1994: 281)�

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Discussion on the construction elements of the Mazarrón 1 hull T-shape scarf of the keel The distinctive T-shape scarf from the keel of Mazarrón 1 is not the only archaeological example of a joint between keel and stem used in the western Mediterranean during the Iron Age. The ‘trait de Jupiter’ scarf is a contemporary boatbuilding joint that was in use at least from the 6th century BC, as documented by archaeology in the Jules-Verne 7 and 9 shipwrecks discovered in the ancient port of Marseille (Pomey, 1999; 2001; 2003). The Jules-Verne 9 shipwreck was a boat with estimated dimensions of c. 9 m long by c. 1�60 m in beam28 (Pomey, 1999: 148), and thus fairly similar in size to Mazarrón 1; its ‘trait de Jupiter’ scarf is the closer archaeological example to the Mazarrón 1 T-shape scarf both geographically and chronologically (Fig� 5)� The Mazarrón 1 T-shape scarf differs from the ‘trait de Jupiter’ in that it does not have a self-locking configuration by means of a pegged tenon (Fig. 5). The T-shape scarf of the Mazarrón 1 hull remained locked by insertion of the garboards and the second strakes, respectively fastened to the keel and stem by pegged mortise-and-tenon joinery (Figs� 3 and 8)� The design of the Mazarrón 1 T-shape scarf would withstand stress from pressures derived from hogging29 and sagging30 of the hull and the keel of the ship caused by the imbalance of weight and buoyancy along the length of the hull (McGrail, 2001: 147). Its design would prevent the separation of the keel and stem despite stresses in the vertical and transverse axes or through torsional forces in the longitudinal axis. However, contrary to the ‘trait de Jupiter’ scarf, it would not be able to contain tensile stress in the longitudinal axis because of the absence of a self-locking feature. This tensile stress would have been sustained instead by the pegged mortiseand-tenon joinery of the garboards and the second strakes of Mazarrón 1. Consequently, the distinctive T-shape scarf from the keel of Mazarrón 1 seems to be a less sophisticated joint than the ‘trait de Jupiter’ scarf� Because of its lesser sophistication, the T-shape scarf could be considered to be a precursor of the ‘trait de Jupiter’ scarf. It might also be

28

29 30

Breadth� The width of a hull; sometimes called beam, which is technically the length of the main beam (Steffy, 1994: 268)� Hog� The strain on a hull that causes its ends to droop (Steffy, 1994: 273)� Sag. The accidental rocker formed in a keel and bottom due to insufficient timbering or improper loading (Steffy, 1994: 279)�

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a cultural parallel of the ‘trait de Jupiter’ since these two archaeological examples belonged to different cultural milieux and shipbuilding traditions from different geographical distributions and unrelated cultural roots� The T-shape scarf could have been a characteristic of an indigenous shipbuilding tradition of the Iberian Peninsula. Alternatively, it is also possible that this type of scarf could be, as in the case of the mortise-and-tenon joinery, a shipbuilding innovation from the eastern Mediterranean introduced by the Phoenicians to the Iberian Peninsula. The limited evidence regarding keel scarfs in the Mediterranean during the Iron Age makes it very difficult to discern which of the different proposed hypotheses is correct� Longitudinal continuous stitching As we have seen, only scant remains of the waterproofing ropes and stitching have survived the extraction/conservation process since they were not readily apparent within the Mazarrón 1 hull remains when examined in 2008 (Fig. 10). The disappearance of the waterproofing ropes and the stitching might have occurred due to the use of a silicone mould for the extraction of the timber remains from the underwater site (GómezGil / Sierra, 1996: 220) or as a result of the freeze-drying conservation they underwent (Sierra, 2009). Regardless of the reason, the stitching of Mazarrón 1 can now only be recognized from the chamfered edges and the pre-drilled sewing holes along the plank edges (Figs 10–11, 12, 14)� This simple longitudinal stitching from Mazarrón 1 is defined as continuous because the evidence suggests that a single string was used to create overcast stitches without interruption (i�e�, whipstitch) along the seams between planks (Fig� 11)� This stitching corresponds to the Type B proposed by Coates (1985, fig. 2.5) and is sewn in a helical pattern, going from the inside to the outside of the hull� Longitudinal overcast stitches (i�e�, whipstitch) create a pattern of parallel, diagonal stitches along each of the seams of the planks (Fig� 11)� Since the sewing holes bore the planks at a 90º angle (vide supra), the pattern of parallel, diagonal stitches could have been present on both sides of the hull� This was impossible to verify, however, because the outside surface could not be inspected� Evidence documented during the inspection of the hull suggests that the stitching overlaps the pegged mortise-and-tenon joints (Fig� 19)� This demonstrates that both the sewing holes as well as the stitching had to be completed after fastening the planks edge-to-edge using pegged mortiseand-tenon joints� Additionally, it was observed that the stitching is present

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underneath the frames (Fig� 15), which shows that the frames were inserted after the stitching was completed� Additionally, there is evidence to suggest that repairs in the Mazarrón 2 shipwreck were made with the same longitudinal continuous stitching� At the ARQVA Museum the remains of the Mazarrón 1 hull are displayed mixed with some timbers from Mazarrón 2 in a rather confusing manner. One prime example of this is that, at the fore end of the Mazarrón 1 third strake, a foreign timber has been added (Fig� 20)� This is the end of a plank with a diagonal scarf, and thus it has a triangular shape� The two longest edges of the piece are chamfered; the remains of sewing holes can be seen and appear to be similar in diameter and arrangement to those documented in the seams of Mazarrón 1 (vide supra)� The evidence suggests that this timber is not in its rightful place because of two reasons: first, it simply does not fit with the fore end of the Mazarrón 1 third strake (Fig. 20); second, it was not recorded in the site plan of the Mazarrón 1 remains (Fig. 3). Consequently, the placing of this piece at the end of the Mazarrón 1 third strake is misleading� It seems that the timber on display was originally part of the Mazarrón 2 hull remains. According to the on-line database of the ARQVA Museum collection this timber has the reference number MZ-24-1� The description on its data sheet states that, because of the presence of sewing holes, the timber seems to be a sewn repair from the hull remains. Regrettably, the data sheet does not indicate to which of the two Mazarrón boats the piece belongs� However, on the photograph from the data sheet the piece is labelled MZ-24-1 / B2 (Fig. 20). It has been reported that, in the reference numbers of the Mazarrón boats excavations, MZ-24-1 would stand for ‘Mazarrón’ - ‘year 2004’ - ‘inventory number 1’; and B2 would stand for ‘Boat 2’ (Negueruela, 2004: 232). If the MZ-24-1 timber is indeed a repair from Mazarrón 2, the Jules Verne 7 shipwreck would be a comparable archaeological parallel since it was built with pegged mortise-and-tenon fastenings but repairs were made by sewing (Pomey, 1999: 151–153; Kahanov / Pomey, 2004: 16; Pomey et al. 2012: 293)� There are other documented archaeological examples of sewn-plank boats with simple longitudinal continuous stitching (i�e�, whipstitch) of the Types A and B proposed by Coates (1985, fig. 2.5), fairly similar to the stitching present on the Mazarrón 1 hull. In the Central Mediterranean, the use of longitudinal continuous whipstitch is a well-attested tradition, represented by several wrecks in the Eastern Adriatic� At northern Dalmatia, three wrecks from Zaton were discovered at the port of Nin

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(ancient Aenona). These are small boats from the first half of the 1st century AD suitable for coastal navigation (Brusić 1968; Brusić / Domjan 1985; Gluščević 2004). The wreck of Caska 1 (1st–2nd century AD) is a small boat approximately 8 m long (Radić / Boetto 2010; Boetto / Radić, 2014). In Istria the sewn wreck of Zambratja, currently under study, is a unique expanded logboat of 7.6 m long dated by radiocarbon analysis to between the 12th and 10th centuries BC (Boetto et al., 2014: 23–24; Koncani, et al. 2017: 42)� There is another archaeological parallel in the British Isles, the Brigg ‘raft’ (McGrail, 1981; 1985: 165–194; 2001: 187– 188). In this riverine flat-bottomed boat, radiocarbon dated to c.820–790 BC, the planks of the Brigg ‘raft’ were fastened by simple longitudinal continuous stitching (i�e�, whipstitch) described by McGrail as continuous zig-zag stitching� In the Nin wrecks and Caska 1 the stitching was sewn over longitudinal wads or strips of vegetal fibres (Brusić / Domjan 1985: 77; Boetto / Radić, 2014: 55). In the Zambratja wreck the stitching was sewn over longitudinal fir laths (Boetto et al., 2014: 24; Koncani, et al. 2017: 60)� The use of laths, held in place by the stitching, was also documented in the Brigg ‘raft’, whereas here laths were made of hazel and they trapped moss used as caulking material (McGrail, 1985: 183; 2001: 187). In contrast, the stitching of the Mazarrón 1 hull secured thin ropes made with esparto grass (Stipa tenacissima L.) (Negueruala 2004: 236–237)� Despite the difference in materials, the stitching and waterproofing of Mazarrón 1 is similar to those documented in Adriatic wrecks and the Brigg ‘raft’� Wedges—used to jam the stitches in sewing found in the Nin wrecks (Brusić and Domjan 1985: 77), Caska 1 (Boetto / Radić, 2014: 55), and Zambratja wreck (Boetto et al., 2014: 24; Koncani, et al. 2017: 40) which would seem to be essential to jam the stitches in helical sewing (i.e., whipstitch)—were not found in the Mazarrón 1 boat. The absence of wedges was also documented in the Brigg ‘raft’ (McGrail, 1985: 183)� The characteristics of the sewing holes, waterproofing material, and the sewing system present on the ancient Adriatic wrecks, the Brigg ‘raft’, and the Mazarrón 1 hull are fairly similar, although they differ in some aspects summarized in Table 2�

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Cylindrical frames It has been suggested that the wood used for the frames of Mazarrón 1 and 2 was flexible, thus providing no structural stiffness to the hull (Negueruela, 2004: 250; 2006: 31; 2014: 244; Polzer, 2011: 363). The suggestion that these frames did not provide stiffness to the hull could be questioned� Despite their simplicity and small diameter, these cylindrical frames were used in both Mazarrón 1 and 2 boats, and perhaps in the Golo wreck (Pomey 2012: 26), thus they must have had a function within the hull� The fact that each frame was made from a lightly worked single piece of wood (e.g., the branch of a tree) and so retained the natural configuration of the wood fibres, would have been an advantage and made them strong yet flexible. Probably, in origin, the frames were either straight branches of a tree or the trunk of a sapling31� During the construction of the hull they were purposely bent (by means of force or pressure), adapting their natural straight shape to the internal curvature of the hull, fastening them to the hull with several individual lashings as well as the protective coating applied afterwards (vide supra)� The natural tendency of the wood of these frames would have been to recover its initial natural straight shape, thus pushing the hull (to which they were fastened) outwards, consequently providing some transversal reinforcement to it� We must also consider that they were used along the entire length of the hull at fairly regular room and space� For all of the above, the evidence seems to suggest that, despite their small diameter, these simple pieces of wood would have structurally strengthened the hull transversally and hence acted as frames� Elsewhere, it has been proposed that these frames may have had a role in protecting the hull from the cargo, functioning as some kind of permanent dunnage (Polzer, 2011: 363). This hypothesis, however, does not explain why these frames were then also installed at the ends of the hull where cargo was never carried� Guerrero Ayuso further discussed the matter of the Mazarrón 1 and 2 frames (2008: 57–60), reaching the conclusion (and proposing the hypothesis) that they are a remnant (or a distinctive boat building feature) of an indigenous local shipbuilding tradition�

31

Since these cylindrical frames are reported to be made of Ficus carica L. in the case of the Mazarrón 1 shipwreck (Negueruela, 2004: 236–237; 2006: 25, 29) and of an undetermined species from the genus Juniperus in the Mazarrón 2 (Miñano, 2014: 9) respectively�

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Function of the longitudinal continuous stitching As discussed above, in the preserved timber remains of the Mazarrón 1 hull, two areas with different arrangements of tenons were identified. Two observations need to be emphasized: first, average spacing between tenons doubles from one area to the other� Second, the area with widelyspaced tenons coincides with those strakes where seams are sewn with a longitudinal continuous stitching (Fig� 21)� The sewing holes, the waterproofing rope, and the stitching present on the Mazarrón 1 hull are fairly similar to those observed in the ancient Adriatic wrecks and the Brigg ‘raft’� However, the stitching systems differ in some aspects (summarized in Table 2)� Despite the differences, the stitching present fairly similar configurations and functions: primarily, fastening the planks; secondly, making plank seams watertight� It has been shown that the Mazarrón 1 boat planking was fastened with pegged mortise-and-tenon joinery and plank seams were also sewn with an overlapping stitching. It has been proposed that the construction of hulls using pegged mortise-and-tenon joinery is largely incompatible with driven caulking32 (Steffy, 1982: 72; Basch, 1986: 187)� Consequently, waterproofing is achieved by carving a smooth union between the planks, yet this requires skilled craftsmanship (Basch, 1986: 188)� It has been proposed that the stitching of Mazarrón 1 was only installed with the purpose of making plank seams watertight (Gómez-Gil / Sierra, 1996: 219; Negueruela, 2002: 167)� Yet, the use of pegged mortiseand-tenon joinery provides sufficient water-tightness to the hull if done properly (Basch, 1986: 188)� Consequently, the stitching overlapping the mortise-and-tenon joinery could be seen as superfluous. Then, an important question arises: why did the shipwright of Mazarrón 1 employ countless hours of painstaking effort drilling thousands of holes required for the installation of the stitching? The conservative nature of ancient shipwrights could offer a possible justification. Mark (2005) suggested that ancient shipwrights operated rather conservatively since any slight variation in their shipbuilding traditions, deviations in the hull design, the use of inferior materials, or lazy craftsmanship could lead to the loss of a cargo, a ship, and possibly the crew� Therefore, the professional prestige of ancient shipwrights, their

32

Caulk. To drive oakum, moss, animal hair, or other fibrous material into the seams of planking and cover it with pitch to make the seams watertight (Steffy, 1994: 268)�

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economic wellbeing, as well as the life and commercial ventures of others, depended on duplicating, as closely as possible, successful models with techniques that the shipwright knew from experience were less likely to result in failure (Mark, 2005: 61). It is possible, then, to suggest two general hypotheses in order to explain the use of pegged mortise-andtenon joints and stitching in the planking of the Mazarrón 1 hull: on the one hand, the stitching could be a structural reinforcement or repair of the original hull; on the other hand, the stitching could be an original design feature of the hull serving as planking fastener� In the first hypothesis, either the shipwright decided to be ‘conservative’ during the construction of Mazarrón 1 and use the stitching overlapping the pegged mortise-and-tenon joints to ensure that plank seams were watertight, giving him peace of mind� Or the stitching was added, later in the life of the hull, as a structural repair consequence of either a faulty initial construction of the hull (planking seams were not tight enough) or a repair made as a result of planking seam wear after the vessel’s long life of service� In the second hypothesis, during the construction of Mazarrón 1 the shipwright decided to use a mixture of two shipbuilding methods to fasten the hull planking� On the one hand, pegged mortise-and-tenon joints (spacing 195 mm on average) were only used as plank fastenings in keel, garboards and the second strakes� On the other hand, however, from the third up to the ninth strakes only half the number of tenons were used per strake and so were more widely spaced (spacing 400 mm on average)� Consequently, longitudinal continuous stitching needed to be sewn to serve as additional plank fastening (especially in the scarfs of the strakes) and to ensure that plank the seams were watertight (Fig� 21)� The later hypothesis would explain two questions: first, the reason for combining pegged mortise-and-tenon joints and longitudinal stitching; second, the existence of two areas with clearly different arrangements of tenons documented in the Mazarrón1 hull. This suggests that the stitching of Mazarrón 1 had a double function: first, to serve as an additional plank fastening method. Therefore, those areas where the shipwright decided that he was going to use stitching (i�e�, planks that would have been fastened by it) allowed for tenons to be spaced more widely, thus halving the number of tenons per strake� Second, the stitching also ensured that the plank seams were watertight� The seams of the uppermost strakes of the hull (ninth and tenth strakes) did not present the stitching because those timbers did not need to be

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watertight as they never reached below the water’s surface� This double function of the stitching supports the original hypothesis of the excavators (Negueruela et al., 2000: 1673)� The hypothesis that the sewing technique documented in the Mazarrón 1 boat seemed to have been considered a viable method for fastening planks by the builder of the boat is supported not only by the existence of two areas with clearly different arrangements of tenons but also by the presence or absence of stitching in the diagonal scarfs of the strakes� The scarfs on third, fourth, and sixth strakes do not have pegged mortisesand-tenon joints; therefore, fastening these scarfs with stitching was imperative (i�e�, leaving those scarfs without any fastening method could have seriously compromised the watertightness of the hull)� On the other hand, the diagonal scarf of the eighth strake does not present stitching and, consequently, does have a pegged mortise-and-tenon joint (Fig� 21)� The evidence discussed above suggests that this stitching was a design feature and, therefore, the function of the stitching method present in the Mazarrón 1 boat should be considered as structural, similar to the stitches documented in the Adriatic wrecks and the Brigg ‘raft’� Consequently, the stitching does not seem to be a mere repair or reinforcement of the hull planking� This hypothesis implies that the shipwright was confident that the stitching could be used as a plank fastening method� This could have happened if he had mastered and—completely trusted from experience— this sewing technique. It is therefore possible to suggest that the Mazarrón 1 shipwright underwent this remarkable task of applying this system because the stitching was probably an important part of his own cultural shipbuilding tradition. In this case, the stitching present in the Mazarrón 1 boat would be a vestige of a probably local shipbuilding tradition� This would be in line with the thesis that the frames of Mazarrón 1 and 2 are a remnant of an indigenous local shipbuilding tradition, as proposed by Guerrero Ayuso (2008: 59–60)� Preliminary reconstruction of the Mazarrón 1 hull The initial report of the preliminary reconstruction of the Mazarrón 1 hull could be found elsewhere (Cabrera Tejedor, 2017; 2018; 2020)� The rather incomplete published information regarding Mazarrón 1 and its scant hull remains (i�e�, a keel and nine partial strakes of planking) represented a challenge� Consequently, the so-called ‘Steffy method’ (Steffy, 1994) provided the means to attempt a reconstruction (Cabrera Tejedor, 2017:

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183–193). As we have seen, the Mazarrón 1 hull seems to have similar, yet not identical, structural elements and overall dimensions to those of the Mazarrón 2 (vide supra)� Nonetheless, both hulls had, in origin, a similar overall shape and broadly similar dimensions� Therefore, the limited data available for Mazarrón 1 was supplemented with some construction details drawn from Mazarrón 2. Two types of reconstruction of the Mazarrón 1 shipwreck were completed: graphic and three-dimensional reconstructions (Steffy, 1994: 214–215)� A line plan at 1:10 was produced (Fig� 22) in which the original profile and size of the Mazarrón 1 hull was reconstructed, resulting in estimated dimensions of c. 8�20 m in overall length, by c.2�20 m of beam, and c.1 m of depth amidships (Table 1 and Fig� 22)� The information obtained from the line drawings was subsequently used in 2007 to create a three-dimensional virtual model with Rhinoceros® 4.0 software (Fig. 23). It was analysed using Delftship® naval architecture software to evaluate its hydrostatic and other performance characteristics (Table 1). It must be stressed that the hydrostatic calculations are illustrative values aimed at providing a general idea of the capabilities of Mazarrón 1. This derives from the fact that the reconstruction of the hull of Mazarrón 1 is an approximation based on partial remains. Construction sequence The evidence discussed above and the preliminary reconstruction of the Mazarrón 1 hull (Cabrera Tejedor, 2017; 2018; 2020) suggest that the Mazarrón 1 boat was constructed with what has been described as a longitudinal concept, following the principle of shell-first construction (Casson, 1963; 1964; 1971; Hasslöf, 1963; 1972; Basch, 1972; Pomey, 1988; 1994; 1998; 2004; Steffy, 1995; Hocker, 2004; Pomey / Rieth, 2005), the common shipbuilding technique used in the ancient Mediterranean� The construction sequence of the Mazarrón 1 hull could be briefly summarized as follows: • Once the keel was laid, the stem and sternpost33 were aligned� • Then keel, stem and sternpost were secured by the garboards and second strakes which were fastened using pegged mortise-and-tenon joinery spaced on average 195 mm apart�

33

Sternpost� A vertical or upward-curving timber or assembly of timbers stepped into, or scarfed to, the after end of the keel or heel (Steffy, 1994: 280)�

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• Consecutive rows of strakes were added, up to the ninth strakes� These were also fastened with pegged mortise-and-tenon joints but were widely spaced at 400 mm on average� Some strakes had diagonal scarfs but without pegged mortise-and-tenon joints at their edges. Before the final fitting of each plank, its edges, on which sewn holes will be bored later, were chamfered� • Once the strakes were added, sewn holes were bored on both edges of the seams from the one between the second and third strakes up to the seam between the seventh and eighth strakes, including the scarfs� • Thin ropes, used as waterproofing material, were placed in the chamfered edges of the planks� • Waterproofing ropes were then held in the grooves with the use of simple longitudinal continuous stitching (i�e�, whipstitch) in a helical pattern� • Frames made of a single piece were then added and fastened to the hull with several individual lashes per frame� • A mast-step was then laid directly over the keel and the two frames amidships and fitted in place by the use of mortise-and-tenon joinery. • On the upper edge of the eighth (and potentially ninth) strakes dovetailed notches were cut for fitting through-beams. • Transversal through-beams were then fitted in the dovetailed notches (Fig� 17) and these were locked in place by the upper row of strakes inserted immediately afterwards� • Waterproofing the internal and external surfaces of the hull with pine tar completed the construction of the hull� Boat design and operational environment The data obtained from the preliminary reconstruction and subsequent study of the hull remains (Cabrera Tejedor, 2017) allows for the following observations about the Mazarrón 1 boat. Because of its modest length (c.8�20 m), shallow depth (c.1 m), lack of deck and, above all, its very limited freeboard34 when loaded (c.300–400 mm), the Mazarrón 1 boat would not have been suitable for seagoing navigation; this suggests that

34

Freeboard� The distance between the waterline and upper deck (Steffy, 1994: 272)�

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this vessel was built and operated on the shores of the Iberian Peninsula. Its hull design would have made it very suitable for mixed, coastal, fluvial and wetland navigation� Guerrero Ayuso (2008: 54, 55) reached similar conclusions based upon his examination of the published photographs of Mazarrón 2 (Guerrero Ayuso personal comment). The proposed shape and length-to-beam ratio (c.3�7:1) of the hull provided the Mazarrón 1 boat with good sailing qualities, being swift and manageable. In addition, its small size and shallow draught (c.200 mm in standard displacement) allowed it easily to access and navigate its way through shallow environments such as beaches, lagoons, rivers, inlets, wetlands, etc� The paleo-geographical reconstruction of the Playa de la Isla archaeological site seems to indicate that the area where the Mazarrón boats sank would have been a shallow-water marine environment during the 1st millennium BC, which gradually became saltwater lagoons around the Roman Period (Roldán et al. 1994: 505–506)� Despite its modest dimensions, the Mazarrón 1 boat would have had a large load capacity in relation to its size� The hydrostatic calculations obtained from the reconstruction of the Mazarrón 1 hull (Table 1) indicate that it would have been able to carry a maximum load of about 4000 kg of cargo without excessively compromising safety. These calculations refute a previous hypothesis that the Mazarrón 2 boat, loaded with 2800 kg of mineral lead ore (Negueruela, 2004: 235; 2006: 25; Miñano, 2014: 10), sank because of overloading (Negueruela et al., 2004: 480)� This light vessel probably had two propulsion systems, the main being a mast fitted with a single broad square sail—the standard sail used in antiquity (Casson, 1995: 38, 70, 239), as suggested by the presence of mortises on the keel to accommodate a mast-step—and the secondary system possibly oars used by the crew when needed, especially for manoeuvring and navigating difficult courses. There is no direct evidence of the use of oars on the Mazarrón 1 wreck, but this can be inferred from the size and hull shape of the vessel as well as the coastal, fluvial and riverine environments in which this boat seems to have operated� Chronology of the Mazarron boats During the surveys at the Playa de la Isla site more than 7300 pottery sherds were recovered; approximately 70% were identified as Phoenician pottery, although in the immediate surroundings of the Mazarrón 1 shipwreck the percentage increased to c. 80% (Arellano, et al. 1995: 221; Barba, et al., 1993: 199; Negueruela et al., 2000: 1671). All Phoenician

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pottery sherds found had a homogenous chronology dating to the second half of the 7th century BC (Arellano, et al. 1995: 221; Negueruela, 2004: 238; Negueruela et al., 2000: 1672). No Phoenician pottery sherds were found which definitively belonged to either the 6th or 8th century BC (Barba, et al., 1993: 199; Negueruela et al., 1995: 191, 192; 2000: 1671)� This led the excavators to assign a chronology for the Mazarrón boats to the second half of the 7th century BC (Negueruela, 2000a: 182; 2004: 238; 2006: 22–23; Negueruela et al., 1995: 189; 2000: 1672)� Dating obtained from radiocarbon analyses conducted on wood samples from the Mazarrón 2 timbers seem roughly to match the same chronological dates of the pottery (Negueruela, 2004: 238; 2006: 24, 25; Negueruela et al., 2000: 1674)� The chronology for the Mazarrón 2 has been recently reviewed by Miñano (2014: 11) and De Juan (2014: 30; 2017: 70), based on a chronological assessment of the only amphora found on board (Type Trayamar-1), part of the crew‘s equipment for storing fresh water (Negueruela, 2004: 235; 2006: 25)� The former proposes a chronology in the first third of the 6th century BC, and the latter proposes a chronology between 625–570 BC� Cultural affiliation of the Mazarrón boats and their purpose Harpster (2013) studied the methods employed by maritime archaeologists to apply affiliations or identities to shipwrecks based on the material assemblages that compose them. Four general methods were identified by the author, in which Type C affiliation attributes the identity of a shipwreck by linking the remains thereof to an empire, nation estate, or culture (Harpster, 2013: 593)� This attribution could be based upon the entire assemblage of the wreck, portions of it (such as the crew’s personal items), the nautical characteristics of the hull of the vessel (e�g�, type of construction), or its fittings (e.g., the vessel’s anchors); this occurs in a rather intuitive manner since any particular affiliation is applied based upon the investigator’s perception of the assemblage of the vessel (Harpster, 2013: 601–608)� The excavators of the Mazarrón 1 boat followed this approach to attribute a cultural affiliation to the vessel. Because of the partial state in which the Mazarrón 1 shipwreck was found (Fig. 2), the wreck did not have any cargo inside the hull� However, during surveys at the Playa de la Isla site thousands of Phoenician pottery sherds were recovered (vide supra), many of them in the immediate surroundings of the Mazarrón 1 shipwreck (Arellano, et al. 1995: 221; Barba, et al., 1993: 199; Negueruela et al.,

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2000: 1671). Additionally, given the context within which the boats were found (Cabrera et al., 1992; Roldán et al., 1994), the excavators believed that Mazarrón 1 transported the Phoenician ceramics found at the site as cargo. They also associated the wreckage with the nearby Punta Gavilanes site (Cabrera et al., 1992: 42; 1997: 156) which has been identified as a long-standing mining settlement with silver smelting furnaces which processed ores from the nearby Sierra de Cartagena (Ros Sala et al., 2003)� In the case of the Mazarrón 2 shipwreck, the vessel was discovered carrying a cargo of 2,800 kg of litharge (lead oxide) cake ingots, along with one Phoenician amphora (Type Trayamar-1) which was interpreted as part of the crew‘s equipment for storing fresh water (Negueruela, 2004: 235; 2006: 25). Prior to the discovery of the Mazarrón 2 shipwreck, Maria Eugenia Aubet had already offered a probable explanation of why this vessel was carrying an unusual cargo of lead35 in the 7th c� BC: the lead might have been used to extract silver from complex ores through the process of cupellation (Cabrera Tejedor, 2020: 30). Aubet (1993) explained that the Phoenician colonies of the Iberian Peninsula possessed exceptional knowledge of metallurgy since they knew and employed the cupellation process� This metallurgic process permits the separation of noble metals, like gold and silver, from complex metal ores containing lead, copper, zinc, arsenic, antimony and bismuth. Processing these complex ores through cupellation, which requires very high temperatures and several stages of operations, the Phoenicians achieved the extraction of gold and silver. Metallic lead (which was previously obtained from galena ore or litharge) was needed and employed in the cupellation process for the extraction of silver contained in complex ores (Aubet, 1993: 236–241). Renzi, et al., (2009) later supported this hypothesis by conducting isotopic analysis on samples from the litharge cake ingots from the Mazarrón 2 boat (Negueruela, 2004: 235; 2006: 25) and samples from the Phoenician settlement of La Foneta. Their study showed that the Mazarrón 2 ingots match the isotopic signature of fragments of litharge found on the La Foneta site, concluding that both came from the mining area of the Sierra de Cartagena (Renzi, et al., 2009: 2592)� The authors suggested that the litharge from Sierra de Cartagena may have been transported to La Fonteta by sea and co-smelted with galena to recover the silver possibly trapped in the lead oxide, making its overall processing more efficient

35

The industrial or large-scale use of lead did not occur until the Roman period.

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and profitable (Renzi et al., 2009: 2594). The Mazarrón 2 shipwreck would then attest to the long-distance transportation of litharge by sea� This hypothesis was later supported by the Bajo de la Campana shipwreck which, among an extremely diverse cargo of manufactured goods and raw materials, transported more than one ton of galena ore (Pinedo Reyes, 2013: 22; Polzer, 2014: 234, 240). Based on the material culture found in the Playa de la Isla site, Negueruela has described and continues to describe the Mazarrón boats as Phoenician (Negueruela, 2000a: 179, 182; 2000b: 114; 2004: 227, 230; 2006: 22–24; 2014: 243; Negueruela et al., 1995: 189; 2000: 1671; Negueruela et al., 2004: 453; 2014: 243)� Guerrero Ayuso proposed that the Mazarrón boats were the transport vessels of a commercial enterprise supervised by a Phoenician colony in the Iberian Peninsula, such as Cadiz or Malaga (Guerrero Ayuso, 2008: 57)� However, he pointed out that a commercial cargo does not necessarily have to be culturally related to the vessel that transported it� Consequently, he attributed a cultural affiliation to the wrecks on the basis of the construction details of the vessels, proposing that aboriginal peoples from the Iberian Peninsula influenced by Phoenician-Punic shipbuilding techniques built and were in charge of the Mazarrón boats (Guerrero Ayuso, 2008: 59, 60)� Although there are undoubtedly close relationships between material culture and ethnicity, the analysis of ethnic identity through archaeology is an especially complex undertaking (Jones, 1997). One of the classic prejudices of studies on Phoenician expansion and its relations with the indigenous societies is the belief that colonial contact resulted in two blocks—colonists and indigenous peoples—that were internally homogeneous and well delimited (Van Dommelen 1997: 308 ff; Aranegui / Vives-Ferrándiz, 2006). However, distinguishing between Phoenician settlers and indigenous peoples in the Iberian Peninsula (particularly during the centuries that followed the first generations to establish colonies) is not an easy undertaking, and this complex issue has already been discussed elsewhere (e.g., Aranegui / Vives-Ferrándiz, 2006; VivesFerrandiz, 2006; Álvarez Martí-Aguilar, 2009; 2013; Álvarez MartíAguilar / Ferrer Albelda, 2009)� The ethnic identity of a collective (i�e�, self-perception) is in at state of constant construction, and the elements that integrate that image change with time, producing continuous phenomena of aggregation and disintegration� The construction of collective identity is, in short, an

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essentially historical, dynamic, and changing phenomenon (Barth, 1976; Jones, 1997: 13)� Therefore, the adoption or imitation of foreign material culture (e�g�, mortise-and-tenon joints) does not amount to cultural assimilation. In contrast, traditions and habitus are essential for identifying cultural or ethnic identities because they express the ideas and values of social groups and, ultimately, are where identities are constructed (VivesFerrándiz, 2006: 46)� By their very nature, colonial communities are contexts in which the construction of collective identity is especially dynamic� There are several variables which determine the complex process of the configuration of the members‘ identity of the community at different levels (status, gender, class, etc.), such as, but not exclusively: the diversity of origin of the members of a new settlement (both Phoenician and indigenous); the presumably rapid emergence of mixed-race populations; the establishment of new social and economic hierarchies and roles; the specific characteristics of the colonial landscape; and the framework of relations between emigrants and residents (Álvarez Martí-Aguilar / Ferrer Albelda, 2009: 190). It has been proposed that colonial encounters must be seen as cultural processes, an entanglement of cultural, social, economic and symbolic relations rather than a simplistic reality of domination and resistance (Thomas, 1994: 2). Vives-Ferrándiz (2006), proposed that the postcolonial theoretical approach applied to the Iberian Peninsula needed to reconsider the colonial situation as a phenomenon in which indigenous people and settlers participated equally (Vives-Ferrándiz, 2006: 48). Furthermore, the author proposed that terms such as “cultural contact”, “interaction”, “méstissage” or “hybridization” always imply two different groups, and in a colonial situation they are neither, but both (especially after the first generations to establish the colony)� Therefore, in his view, a better term to define and refer to the individuals living in those colonial settlements of the Iberian Peninsula is “local” since all the groups contribute to the new reality of the colony (Vives-Ferrándiz, 2006: 236). In the case of the Mazarrón boats dated to the second half of the 7th century BC (vide supra)—which is more than two centuries after the initial establishment of the first Phoenician colonies in the Iberian Peninsula (Aubet, 1993)—it seems difficult to define them as being neither Phoenician nor indigenous. As we have seen, the societies living in those long-established colonies were the result of a process of complex cultural hybridization that lasted centuries and was constantly changing� For all of the above, perhaps the best way to refer to the Mazarrón boats

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is that proposed by Guerrero Ayuso (2008: 59–60) with a small nuance, i.e., the Mazarrón boats were vessels built by “local” people (instead of aboriginal), operating locally as transport vessels of a large and complex commercial “Phoenician” enterprise, since large-scale commerce was supervised by the aristocratic elites of the colonies and, ultimately, by state of Tyre (Aubet, 1993)� An indigenous sewn-plank boat tradition in the Iberian Peninsula? The existence of local indigenous shipbuilding traditions, prior to the Phoenician colonization of the Iberian Peninsula, is attested to by iconography (Guerrero Ayuso, 2008; 2009; Rey Da Silva, 2009). On the other hand, the hypothesis that the shipwright of the Mazarrón 1 boat traditionally used sewing for fastening ships’ planks, thus suggesting the existence of an indigenous sewn-plank boat tradition in the Iberian Peninsula, cannot yet be proven due to the limited evidence we have. The similarities of the stitching of Mazarrón 1 to the archaeological parallels of sewn-plank boats from the ancient Adriatic and the Brigg ‘raft’ could support the possible existence of sewn-plank boats in the Iberian Peninsula. Arguably, the best evidence to support this hypothesis comes from the smallest construction details within the Mazarrón 1 boat. It was proposed that the location of a vessel’s shipyard (geographically broadly speaking) could be pinpointed by identifying the species of those fibres used for its caulking (Black, 1999: 55, 56). Fibre identification analysis conducted on a Mazarrón 1 sample concluded that the ropes (and probably the string) for the stitching of the boat were made of esparto grass (Stipa tenacissima L.) (Negueruela, 2004: 236–237)� S. tenacissima is a plant endemic to the western Mediterranean region, more precisely to the southeast of the Iberian Peninsula and the northwest of Africa (Barreña et al., 2006: 5)� Calibrated radiocarbon analyses of archaeological remains from the Cueva de los Murcielagos (Albuñol, Granada, Spain) attest to the use of S. tenacissima for the manufacture of extremely elaborate basketry and clothing in the Iberian Peninsula from the 6th millennium BC (Lillo Carpio, 2007: 372). In fact, in the 1st century AD Pliny (Natural History, XIX, 7–10) described esparto grass as a valuable product of the southeastern Iberian Peninsula, a product which was exclusive to this part of the Mediterranean Region. Esparto became at that time a strategic good because its fibres are extremely resistant to rotting in seawater. Esparto ropes and cordage were therefore excellent for rigging and shipbuilding. According to Pliny, the most suitable esparto plants were confined to a

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small area near Cartago Nova (Cartagena, Spain), whereas the variety from northwest Africa was of bad quality and useless� Pomey / Rieth (2005: 159) and Guerrero Ayuso (2008: 59, 60) proposed the hypothesis that the Mazarrón boats were probably built by indigenous peoples influenced by Phoenician-Punic shipbuilding techniques. Guerrero Ayuso (2008: 57–60) further considered that the Mazarrón 1 and 2 frames are a remnant of an indigenous local shipbuilding tradition� The esparto-made structural stitching present in the Mazarrón 1 boat, along with the possible existence of repairs in the Mazarrón 2 hull made with the same stitching technique (vide supra), could also be interpreted as the diagnostic feature of this proposed indigenous shipbuilding tradition; this construction method would have used longitudinal stitching (made of local esparto grass) to fasten together planks of boats in the Mediterranean shores of the Iberian Peninsula before the introduction of pegged mortiseand-tenon joints by the Phoenicians. Conclusions In this paper the results of the preliminary study of the Mazarrón 1 boat have been presented� Direct, indirect and analogous evidence is used to formulate a hypothetical and preliminary reconstruction of the Mazarrón 1 boat� Although there is some uncertainty about the precise form of the ends and the uppermost parts of the hull, the minimum solution reconstruction of the boat and other hypotheses proposed in this paper are firmly based on the surviving evidence� Mazarrón 1 would have been a small boat approximately 8.20 m long, 2.2 min beam and 1 m deep amidships with a mixed propulsion system of mast and square sail as well as oars. It would not have been suitable for open-sea navigation but, rather, for mixed, coastal, fluvial and wetland navigation� This, among other factors, suggests that this boat was built and operated on the shores of the Iberian Peninsula. Thanks to the shape of its hull, it would have had great navigational qualities, being light, fast, manoeuvrable and with a shallow draught. This allowed Mazarrón 1 easily to access shallow environments such as beaches, lagoons, rivers, inlets, and wetlands� Despite its small size, it had a relatively large load capacity, being able to transport a maximum cargo of about 4000 kg. The Mazarrón boats have generally been termed as Phoenician. It is evident that, given the context in which these vessels were found (Cabrera et al., 1992; Roldán et al., 1994) and the associated material remains found at the site, they were probably part of a commercial enterprise driven by

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a Phoenician colony of the Iberian Peninsula (Guerrero Ayuso, 2008: 60). There is evidence, however, to suggest that a “local” shipwright from the Iberian Peninsula built the Mazarrón 1 boat. Although he had knowledge of shipbuilding innovations introduced by the Phoenicians (i.e., pegged mortise-and-tenon joints), he nonetheless retained traces of his own shipbuilding traditions (Pomey / Rieth, 2005: 159; Guerrero Ayuso, 2008: 59) in the construction of the hull� These indigenous architectural features would include: first, the use of longitudinal continuous stitching for fastening the planking and waterproofing the seams of the hull, made with esparto grass, a plant endemic to the southeast Iberian Peninsula; second, the use of lashed cylindrical frames (Guerrero Ayuso, 2008: 59)� The shipbuilding tradition to which the Mazarrón 1 T-shaped scarf would belong cannot yet be discerned� This paper has shown that the hull of Mazarrón 1 presents a mix of shipbuilding techniques, some introduced by the Phoenicians and what seems to be pre-existing indigenous techniques from the Iberian Peninsula. If we accept the longitudinal continuous stitching as a fastening method for the assembly of hull planking, and its proposed indigenous origin, this could potentially point out the existence of a sewn-plank boat tradition in the Iberian Peninsula. In this hypothetical scenario, the Mazarrón 1 boat would represent an intermediate stage in a transition from a preexisting indigenous tradition of sewn-plank boats to the assimilation of pegged mortise-and-tenon joinery by the indigenous peoples of the Iberian Peninsula. Due to the presence of hybrid shipbuilding techniques and hitherto unknown boat building features, the hull of Mazarrón 1 represents an important source of information for increasing our understanding of ancient shipbuilding and its development during the Iron Age. However, when further evidence of Iron Age boat building in the western Mediterranean is obtained it may well be necessary to reassess the hypotheses proposed in this paper� We may therefore look forward to future work on this topic�

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— 1998: “Conception et réalisation des navires dans l’Antiquité méditerranéenne”. In E. Rieth (ed.): Concevoir et construire les navires. De la trière au picoteux, Technologie, Idéologies, Pratique, Revue d’anthropologie des connaissances XIII 1. Ramonville Saint-Agne. Pp. 49–72. — 1999: “Les épaves grecques du VIe siècle av. J-C. de la place Jules-Verne à Marseille”. In P. Pomey / E. Rieth (eds.): Construction navale maritime et fluviale. Approches archéologique, historique et ethnologique, Actes du 7e Colloque International d’Archéologie Navale—7th International Symposium on Boat and Ship Archaeology, île Tatihou, 1994, Archaeonautica 14� Paris. Pp. 147–54. — 2001: “Les épaves grecques archaïques du VIe s. av. J-C. de Marseille: épaves Jules-Verne 7 et 9 et César 1”. In H. Tzalas (ed.): Tropis VI. Proceedings of the 6th International Symposium on Ship Construction in Antiquity, Lamia, 1996. Athens. Pp. 425–437. — 2003: “Reconstruction of Marseilles 6th century BCE. Greek ships”. In C. Beltrame (ed�): Boats, ships and shipyards: proceedings of the Ninth International Symposium on Boat and Ship Archaeology, Venice 2000. Oxford. Pp. 57–65. — 2004: “Principles and Methods of Construction in Ancient Naval Architecture”. In F. M. Hocker / C. A. Ward (eds.): The Philosophy of Shipbuilding� College Station. Pp. 25–36. — 2012: “Le dossier de l’épave du Golo (Mariana, Haute-Corse). Nouvelles considérations sur l’interprétation et l’origine de l’épave”. Archaeonautica 17, 11–30. Pomey, P. / Kahanov, K. / Rieth, E., 2012: “Transition from Shell to Skeleton in Ancient Mediterranean Ship-Construction: analysis, problems, and future research”� IJNA 41, 235–314. Pomey, P. / Rieth, E., 2005: L’archéologie navale. Paris. Pulak, C., 1998: “The Uluburun Shipwreck: An Overview”. IJNA 27, 188–224. — 2005: “Discovering a Royal Ship from the Age of King Tut: Uluburun, Turkey”. In G. F. Bass (ed.): Beneath the Seven Seas. London. Pp. 34–47. — 2008: “The Uluburun shipwreck and Late Bronze Age trade”. In J. Aruz / K. Benzel / J� M� Evans (eds�): Beyond Babylon. Art, Trade, and Diplomacy in the Second Millennium BC. New Haven / London. Pp. 289–310. Radić Rossi, I. / Boetto, G., 2010: “Arheologija broda i plovidbe - Šivani brod u uvali Caski na Pagu, Istraživačka kampanja 2009”. Histria Antiqua 19, 299–307. Renzi, M. / Montero-Ruiz, I. / Bode, M., 2009: “Non-ferrous metallurgy from the Phoenician site of La Fonteta (Alicante, Spain): a study of provenance”. Journal of Archaeological Science 36 (11), 2584–2596� Rey Da Silva, A., 2009: Iconografía Náutica de la Península Ibérica en la Protohistoria, BAR International Series 1982. Oxford. Roldán Bernal, B. / Perera Rodríguez, J. / Santos, J. / Frutos, B. / Pinedo Reyes, J., 1994: “El fondeadero de la Playa de la Isla. Avance preliminar”. In J.L.

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Cunchillos / M� Molina (eds�): El Mundo Púnico. Historia, sociedad y cultura. (Cartagena, 17–19 de noviembre de 1990). Murcia. Pp. 503–516. Ros Sala, M. M. / Arana Castillo, R. / Antolinos, J. A., 2003: “The Metallurgical Furnaces from c. IV-III B.C. of Punta de Los Gavilanes (Mazarrón Port, Murcia, Spain): An Aproximation to the Cupellation Process in the West Mediterranean”. In Associazione italiana di metallurgia: Proceedings to the International Conference Archaeometallurgy in Europe, vol. I. Pp. 315–325. Sierra, J. L., 2009: “Tratamiento de materiales orgánicos arqueológicos empapados en agua”. Revista Museos 14, 55–68. Sleeswyk, A. W., 1980: “Phoenician joints, ‘coagmenta punicana’”. IJNA 9 (3), 243–244� Steffy, J. R., 1982: “Reconstructing the Hull”. In G. F. Bass / F. H. van Doorninck Jr� (eds�): Yassi Ada Volume 1. A Seventh-Century Byzantine Shipwreck� College Station. Pp. 65–86. — 1994: Wooden Ship Building and the Interpretation of Shipwrecks� College Station� — 1995: “Ancient Scantlings: The Projection and Control of Mediterranean hullshapes”. In H. Tzalas (ed.): Tropis III, Proceedings of the 3rd International Symposium on Ship Construction in Antiquity, Athens 1989� Athens� Pp. 417–428. Thomas, N�, 1994: Colonialism‘s culture. Anthropology, Travel and Government� Polity Press. Van Dommelen, P., 1997: “Colonial Constructs: Colonialism and Archaeology in the Mediterranean”� World Archaeology 28 (3), 305–323� Vives-Ferrándiz Sánchez, J., 2006: Negociando encuentros: situaciones coloniales e intercambios en la costa oriental de la península ibérica (ss. VIII-VI a.C.)� Barcelona�

Websites: ARQVA Museum access to on-line collection ‘CERES’: http://www�mecd�gob�es/mnarqua/colecciones/catalogo-ceres�html (Accessed: 01-12-2017) NAVIS II website, Mazarrón 1 shipwreck webpage: http://www2�rgzm�de/Navis/Ships/Ship058/Ship058Engl�htm (Accessed: 01-12-2017)

Abbreviations BAR = British Archaeological Reports IJNA = International Journal of Nautical Archaeology

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Figure 1. Timber remains of Mazarrón 1 at the permanent exhibition of the ARQVA Museum (©Author).

Figure 2. Mazarrón 1 in situ at the Playa de la Isla underwater archaeological site (after Negueruela et al. 2000: fig. 5).

Figure 3. Site plan of Mazarrón 1 (scale bar 1 m, after Negueruela, 2002: fig. 3).

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Figure 4. Timber remains of Mazarrón 1 after the conservation process in summer 2008 (©Author).

Figure 5. Fore end of the Mazarrón 1 keel and the ‘T’ shape scarf (top) (©Author). Axonometric reconstruction of the ‘T’ shape scarf of Mazarrón 1 (bottom left) (©Author); cf. axonometric reconstruction of the ‘trait de Jupiter’ from sixth century BC Jules-Verne 9 shipwreck (bottom right) (after Pomey, 2012: fig. 20).

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Figure 6. Aft end of the Mazarrón 1 keel: on display at the ARQVA Museum (left) after conservation treatment in 2008 (right) (©Author).

Figure 7. Partially exposed tenon in situ, at the aft end of the third and fourth strakes of the Mazarrón 1 hull remains (©Author). Schematic reconstruction for joining planks with pegged mortise-and-tenon fastenings (bottom right) (after Pomey, 1997: 94).

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Figure 8. Reconstructed position of the mortise-and-tenon joints of the Mazarrón 1 hull: clearly documented and hypothesized (grey shade) frames are not represented for clarity (scale bar 1 m, ©Author).

Figure 9. Schematic reconstruction of the distribution of tenons in the hull of Mazarrón 1: two areas with different arrangements could be identified (scale bar 1 m, ©Author).

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Figure 10. Underwater photograph of the longitudinal continuous stitching’ (left) (©ARQVA Museum archives); same seam in 2008 after the conservation process (note that both caulking rope and stitching are missing) (scale bar 10 cm, ©Author).

Figure 11. Schematic reconstruction of the different fastening systems used in Mazarrón 1 (top left) (©ARQVA Museum archives, Ministerio de Cultura); approximate reconstruction of the pattern created by the longitudinal continuous stitching along the seams of Mazarrón 1 (top right) (scale bar 10 cm, ©Author). Planking and scarf seams where the remains of the longitudinal continuous stitching (i�e� chamfered edges and sewing holes) was documented (highlighted in grey) (bottom) (scale bar 1 m, ©Author).

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Figure 12� Sewing holes (marked by arrows) disposed diagonally to one another on adjacent planks. Mazarrón 1 stitching pattern (bottom right) (scale bar 10 cm, ©Author).

Figure 13. Inner edge of the seventh strake, note the absence of exit holes (scale bar 10 cm, ©Author).

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Figure 14� Detail of the upper end of a diagonal scarf at the fourth strake showing its chamfered edges and sewing holes� Two arrows point at cracks present at the inner edge of the adjacent fifth strake; note that the cracks are perpendicular to the face of the plank and the absence of exit holes (scale bar 10 cm, © Author).

Figure 15. Remains of four lashing points. Note that the sewing holes on the seams are present underneath the frame (metric scale 10 cm). Reconstructed position of the lashing points of the Mazarrón 1 hull: clearly documented (grey X) and hypothesized (highlighted X) (top right, scale bar 1 m) (© Author).

The Mazarrón 1 Shipwreck

Figure 16. Upper face of the Mazarrón 1 keel (top, scale bar 10 cm) (©Author), six longitudinal mortises are noticeable where the now lost mast-step was located (bottom, scale bar 1 m) (after Negueruela, 2002: fig. 3).

Figure 17. Isometric drawing of a dovetail end of one of the through-beams documented in the Mazarón 2 shipwreck and used in the preliminary reconstruction of the Mazarrón 1 boat (© Author).

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Figure 18. Eighth and ninth strakes of Mazarrón 1 in situ (left) (after Negueruela et al. 1995: fig. 12) and on display (right): arrows point at the potential remains of notches where the ends of through-beams would have been fitted (©Author).

Figure 19. Remains of the longitudinal continuous stitching (i.e. chamfered edges and sewing holes) over one pegged mortise-and-tenon joint that connects the fifth and sixth strakes. Arrows point at the two pegs of the mortise-and-tenon joint in the centre of the image below the diagonal scarf (scale bar 10 cm, ©Author).

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Figure 20. Foreign timber MZ-24-1 (rectangle) possibly from the Mazarrón 2 shipwreck misleadingly placed at the fore end of the Mazarrón 1 third strake (©Author). Official photograph from the ARQVA Museum data sheet from the museum’s database “CERES” of piece labelled MZ-24-1 / B2; note a perpendicular crack present at the top edge of the piece similar to those shown in Figure 14 (scale bar 5 cm, ©ARQVA Museum archives, Ministerio de Cultura).

Figure 21. Reconstructed position of the mortise-and-tenon joints of the Mazarrón 1 hull along with planking and scarf seams where the longitudinal continuous stitching was documented (highlighted in grey) frames are not represented for clarity (scale bar 1 m, ©Author).

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Figure 22. Lines drawing of the preliminary reconstruction of the Mazarrón 1 hull; the grey area represents the hull timber remains (scale bar 3 m, ©Author).

Figure 23. Rhinoceros® 4.0 interface (top, left) and computer based three-dimensional preliminary reconstruction of the Mazarrón 1 hull (©Author).

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Reconstructed dimensions and calculations of Mazarrón 1 Overall Overall Standard Standard dis- Length-tolength beam draught placement beam ratio c. 0,20 c. 1,00 m c. 8,20 m c. 2,20 m c. 0,500 tn� c. 3�7:1 m Different drafts and their correspondent dimensions, calculations and coefficients of the hull Draught Length on Beam on Hull Displacement Block Prismatic Waterplane depth waterline waterline volume (saltwater) coefficient coefficient coefficient 0,65 m 7,127 m 2,191 m 4,813 m3 4,933 tn� 0,474 0,580 0,659 0,60 m 4,412 tn. 7,018 m 2,166 m 4,305 m3 0,471 0,582 0,658 0,45 m 6,655 m 2,053 m 2,878 m3 2,950 tn� 0,468 0,585 0,656 0,30 m 1,676 tn. 6,220 m 1,862 m 1,636 m3 0,470 0,589 0,650 3 0,15 m 5,689 m 1,523 m 1,636 m 0,667 tn� 0,500 0,591 0,630

Depth amidships

Table 1. Reconstructed measurements, calculations and hydrostatic coefficients of the Mazarrón 1 hull (© Author). Wreck Location Chronology Type of navigation Stitch pattern Type A (Coates 1985, fig. 2.5) Stitch pattern Type B (Coates 1985, fig. 2.5) Waterproofing material Angle of the perforations for the sewing holes Diameter of sewing holes Equidistance of sewing holes Use of wedges to jam the stitches

Brigg ‘raft’

Mazarrón 1 Zambratja Western British Isles Adriatic Sea Mediterranean c.820-790 BC c.650-600 BC 12th-10th c� BC MaritimeRiverine Coastal Riverine

Nin wrecks

Caska 1

Adriatic Sea

Adriatic Sea

1st c� AD CoastalMaritime

1st-2nd c� AD CoastalMaritime

////////

\\\\\\\\

////////

\\\\\\\\

\\\\\\\\

\\\\\\\\

Esparto ropes

Fir laths

Vegetal wads

Hazel laths trapping moss Perpendicular to the face of the plank

Perpendicular to the face of the plank

c. 9 mm*

c. 2 mm

c. 35 – 55 mm c. 20 – 25 mm No

No

Oblique to Perpendicular the face of the to the face of plank the plank

Vegetal strips ?

8 – 15 mm

3 – 4 mm

c. 5 mm*

c. 25 – 55 mm*

c. 20 – 25 mm

c. 25 mm*

Yes

Yes

Yes

Table 2. List of some archaeological examples of sewn plank boats with simple longitudinal continuous stitching (i�e� whipstitch)(* dimensions not stated in the consulted references but observed in published images with metric scale bar)(©Author).

Continuity and variability in funerary practices in the Eastern and Western Phoenician world Barbara Mura Archaeological documentation about Phoenicians in their homeland (corresponding approximately to the Levantine coast from the island of Arados to the Carmel promontory) has notably increased during the last two decades� The long Lebanese civil war (1975–1990) and the following years of political instability caused a consistent hiatus in archaeological research on eastern Phoenicians, just when European research was especially focused on the Phoenician presence in the western Mediterranean, carrying out long term campaigns of excavation, systematic studies on different classes of material culture, and thorough historical and theoretical reflection about the interpretation of the ever-increasing data (Moscati, 1995; Quinn / Vella, 2014: 2–3). This circumstance inevitably produced an imbalance in information about eastern and western Phoenician communities, with the result of making systematic comparison between the two hardly possible� The situation has notably changed in Lebanon since the second half of the Nineties (Asmar, 1998; Doumet Serhal / Rabat / Resek, 2004). Knowledge about Phoenician cemeteries from Iron Age I and II has notably expanded thanks to the excavation and publication of the necropolis of Tyre-al Bass (Aubet, 2004; Aubet / Núñez / Trellisó, 2014; Aubet 2015), the extensive publication of materials from the previously excavated necropolis of Tel Rachidiyeh (Doumet, 1982; Doumet, 2003), the partial recovery of the materials and documentation from Roger Saidah’s excavation in the necropolis of Khaldé (Mura, 2017) and the effort of systematization and analysis of the overall information (Sader, 1995; Sader, 2014)� Moreover, the recent publication of old and new excavations in the cemeteries of Achziv in northern Israel has expanded documentation about Southern Phoenicia (Dayagi-Mendels, 2002; Mazar, 2003; Mazar, 2004; Mazar, 2013)�

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It is especially interesting to focus on the period traditionally defined as Iron Age I and Iron Age II, corresponding to the XI–VIII centuries BCE, which are the key centuries of the definition of Phoenician identity in the Levant and the beginning of the diaspora towards the West� This time span corresponds to Early, Middle and the beginning of Late Iron Age in the recently elaborated autonomous chronological frame for Iron Age Phoenicia, based on stratigraphic evidence and chrono-typological studies of pottery (Núñez, 2008; Núñez, 2016)� Eastern cemeteries: Khaldé, Tyre, Tel Rachidiyeh, Achziv The above-mentioned cemeteries (Tyre, Tel Rachidiyeh, Achziv, Khaldé) are particularly significant for multiple reasons: their extension implies that they represent not only a single family unit, but most probably larger social groups; their continuity in time permits a diachronic observation of the evolution of the funerary practices; their distribution in central and southern Phoenicia gives an idea of the continuity and differentiation of the burial traditions on a regional scale� The northern cemetery is that of Khaldé, located on a beach about 10 kilometers south of Beirut. At least 400 burials were excavated by Roger Saidah between 1961 and 1970, but only 12 were published by him (Saidah, 1966; Saidah, 1967: 165–169)� The analysis of the recovered documentation from the 1961 and 1962 excavations has shown that, during those first two campaigns, at least 188 burials were brought to light, dated approximately between from the second half of the XI century until the end of the VII century BCE. The funerary rituals are heterogeneous: inhumation is prevalent, but numerous incinerations are present in the same area� Some of the incinerations seem to be in a double urn, a ritual well documented at Tyre-al Bass� While inhumations were clearly documented during all the time of use of the necropolis, the state of the recovered documentation makes it difficult to understand exactly when the incineration ritual started to be practiced (Mura, 2016: 226–232)� The tombs are, in general, individual pits dug in the sand� Only one shaft tomb (T� 121) built in the ashlar technique was found: it contained multiple burials, including both inhumations and incinerations, and was in use for generations (Saidah, 1966: 64–72; Aubet, 2013: 283–286)� Children are inhumated in individual pits among the adult burials, or in the same pit with an adult, most likely a relative� Since the number of

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infants is small we can presume that their formal burial was an exception, rather than the norm. The plan of the excavation (Fig. 1) shows that the tombs are organized in small groups, which include both types of rituals, and both adults and children. Very possibly their proximity is a reflection of a social tie, most probably a family relation� In spite of the variability of the rituals, the funerary gifts are highly standardized: both the incinerated and inhumated are buried with a small ceramic set usually composed of two jugs (a neck ridge jug and a trefoil rim jug; early and middle Iron Age tombs sometimes display a spouted jug), a bowl and a variable number of plates� The set is more diverse in earlier contexts, when it may include a pilgrim flask, an askos or an oil lamp (Mura, 2016: 193–199; Mura, 2017)� Conversely, in the cemetery of Tyre al-Bass, excavated by a team led by M. E. Aubet starting in 1997 (Aubet, 2004; Aubet / Núñez / Trellisó, 2014; Aubet, 2015), the homogeneity of the burials and of the funerary gifts is impressive. About 300 tombs have been excavated in an area of about 500 square meters; they date from the X century to the end of the VII century BCE� All the burials are incinerations of adults, both males and females, with no visible differentiation (Trellisó, 2012: 137–138). The tombs are simple pits dug in the sand, where one or two urns containing the charred bones are placed, along with a very standardized ceramic set (Núñez, 2015: 237–250)� The burials are usually organized in large groups, where the urns appear to be very close to each other, and often superimposed (Fig. 2)� They were placed in the same space for generations and in some instances it is evident that they were disposed around a more ancient grave: this suggests that their position is the reflection of a social unit, maybe a family group (Aubet, 2014: 524)� Traces of a more ancient inhumation have been found at a deeper level, but no systematic excavation of these finds has been carried out so far (Aubet, 2015: 15, 54–56)� A small number of tombs were made visible by a funerary stele� As far as we can see in the archaeological record, this is the only visible sign of differentiation of the tombs in the landscape (Aubet, 2014: 517–522)� The same funerary ritual, the same homogeneity, but a different type of cemetery is attested at Tel el Rachidiyeh: it consists of rock-cut tombs filled with incineration urns. Tel el Rachidiyeh is a tell located 4 kilometers south of Tyre, and it has been identified with Strabo’s “Palaeotyrus”,

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the continental city that faced the island of Tyre1� This type of funerary arrangement is quite common; we have examples from Tambourit (Saidah, 1977) and Sarafand (Saidah, 1969: 134–137), among others� No analyses on the charred bones have been carried out so far, so the age and sex of the deceased remain unknown. The materials from Tomb IV, the only one found untouched, show that the funerary chamber had been in use for several decades during the VIII century BCE (Doumet, 1982: 78). The coexistence of incinerations and inhumations, and of chamber tombs and simple pit tombs, is apparent at Achziv, a coastal tell located about 25 kilometers south of Tyre. Three different funerary areas, excavated since the nineteen-forties, have been identified around the settlement2� The Eastern cemetery, located in a rock spur, is constituted of rock-cut tombs containing multiple burials; they were reused for generations up to Hellenistic and Roman times, and they were frequently found looted (Prausnitz, 1982; Dayagi Mendels, 2002: 2–4; 37–109). The funerary ritual is inhumation, but a few cinerary urns were also found (Prausnitz, 1982: 35; Dayagi Mendels, 2002: 106–107; 163)� The bulk of recovered materials dates from the IX to the VII century BCE (Dayagi Mendels, 2002: 163)� The southern necropolis is located on a beach; on the southern edge it consists of cist tombs and chamber tombs built both in rough stones and in the ashlar technique� The funerary ritual seems to have been only inhumation� The materials found inside the tombs can be ascribed to the IX–VII centuries, although the construction technique suggests that the construction of the tombs is to be considered as more ancient (Mazar,

1

2

The necropolis has been known about since the beginning of the XX century. It was excavated by Macridy Bey in 1903, then by Maurice Chéhab in 1942, and then a rescue excavation was undertaken in 1974 by the Lebanese Direction of Antiquities. The results have been published by Claude Doumet (Doumet, 1982; Doumet, 2003; Doumet, 2004)� The Eastern necropolis (Er Ras) and the Southern necropolis (Minet Ez Zib, or Buqbaq) were excavated between 1941 and 1944 by I. Ben Dor on behalf of the Department of Antiquities of the Mandatory Government; the reports were published posthumously (Dayagi Mendels, 2002). The excavation was later resumed by M. Prausnitz on behalf of the Israel Department of Antiquities and with the collaboration of the University of Rome (Prausnitz 1960: 260–261; Prausnitz 1963: 337–338; Prausnitz 1965: 256–258; Prausnitz 1982: 31–44). Finally, between 1984 and 1994, several campaigns in the southern and northern cemetery were carried out by E� Mazar on behalf of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem (Mazar 2003; Mazar 2004; Mazar 2013).

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2003: 75–76; 157–159). In the northern section of this necropolis the situation is quite complex. Shaft tombs for multiple inhumations coexist with pit graves for single inhumations dated to the VII–VI century BCE, and with incinerations in urns, sometimes found in connection with the pit graves (Mazar, 2003: 147–152)� In the northern necropolis only one chamber tomb was built, presumably in the X century BCE. The first occupants were inhumated with abundant funerary gifts; the grave was then reused for generations, until the VI century, mainly for inhumations, but also for incinerations (Mazar, 2004: 21–23; 135–136). It can be interpreted as a family burial, similar to the one at Khaldé. Starting from the end of the X century and until the first half of the VI century, numerous incinerations in urns were placed around the chamber tomb� They are contemporary with those at al Bass and very similar to them, as are the position of the burials, the funerary gifts, and the presence of funerary stelae (Mazar, 2013: 27–176; 218; 204–216)� Variability and homogeneity This quick review of the more extended Phoenician cemeteries during the first centuries of the Iron Age shows that there is one remarkable characteristic that all of them have in common: the variability of the funerary practices� This relates to the typology of the tombs, the funerary ritual (inhumation or incineration), the inclusion or exclusion of children, the association or segregation of incineration and inhumation burials in the same space and, more generally, to the exterior aspect of the cemeteries. One has the impression that every eastern Phoenician cemetery is somehow unique and different from all the others� That being said, one should not overlook their elements of similarity� First, the deceased are buried with approximately the same ceramic set (the neck ridge jug, the oinochoe, a drinking cup) which very probably relates to the same ritual performed during the funeral� This ceramic set, and most likely this ritual, remains the same for centuries, in the East and in the West, from the early Iron Age until Hellenistic times (Aubet, 2014: 508– 512)� Second, practices such as commensality and libations are attested in all the funerary areas; the ritual act of intentionally breaking pottery over the tombs is also widely attested (Aubet, 2014: 515)� Moreover, the fact itself that, in settlements such as Khaldé and Achziv, incinerations and inhumations coexist in the same space, even inside a few chamber tombs, shows that this distinction does not prevent differently buried individuals from sharing the same cemetery�

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The objective of this paper is not to explore the causes of this complexity (whether they reflect the existence of different social groups, or an ethnic or religious differentiation), which is most probably the result of a long historical process during the passage from the Bronze Age to the Iron Age. What seems to be worth noticing here is that this complexity is itself important as a matter of fact; as far as we know, it is a relevant characteristic of eastern Phoenician cemeteries in the first centuries of the I millennium BCE. Hence, it seems interesting to raise the issue of whether we can find a reflection of this diversity in the Phoenician necropolis in the western Mediterranean. Did their funerary customs reflect the variability of the homeland practices, or, conversely, did they “inherit” or “import” only one funerary tradition, in terms of architecture, treatment of the corpse, etcetera? This question is indeed problematic. Research has clearly shown that Phoenician settlements in the West are the result of a complex interaction with the indigenous peoples� This interaction developed for decades before Phoenician settlements left a massive recognizable trace in the archaeological record3. It is hard to identify the “first generation Phoenicians”, ideally those who were born in the east or still had strong bonds with the east but lived in the west in a settlement which was structured enough to be equipped with a formal cemetery� However, for this purpose we might tentatively look at the few VIII century tombs, until the present the more ancient Phoenician burials uncovered in the west. In Sicily, at Motya, the majority of the archaic burials are from the VII century, but a homogeneous group of burials dating back to the second half of the VIII century has been published. The funerary ritual is incineration; the charred bones are placed in an urn, accompanied by the ritual funerary set and, occasionally, some weapons (Tusa, 1972: 34–55)� A very similar situation is found in Sardinia. In the island the only necropolis attested in the VIII century BCE is San Giorgio di Portoscuso, in the coast west of the islands of San Pietro and Sant’Antioco, where the main city of Sulki was located� Only 11 tombs were brought to light in a rescue excavation. The tombs were simple cists where an urn containing an incineration was placed (Bernardini, 2000)�

3

A considerable amount of literature has been published about the interaction between Phoenician and indigenous peoples in the western Mediterranean. Recent contributions can be found in Dietler / Lopez–Ruiz, 2009; Quinn / Vella, 2014b; Garbati / Pedrazzi, 2016.

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At Ayamonte, next to the Atlantic coast of southern Spain, recent excavations have shown that an incineration necropolis was active presumably since the VIII century (García Teyssander / Cabaco Encinas, 2009; García Teyssander / Marzoli 2014). At Carthage, on the contrary, there is evidence of variability in the earliest cemeteries. Recent excavations carried out by the Belgian Ghent University and the Tunisian National Institute for Heritage in the “Bir Massouda” area have discovered a small patch of a cremation necropolis dated to the VIII century. Nine pozzi were found, with rests of funerary pottery and other objects related to funerary practices; they were interpreted as the lower part of cremation pits which had been dug from an originally higher level� The necropolis was cleared out probably in the seventh century when the area was occupied by metallurgic workshops� Along with a very few cremated bones, non-cremated human bones were also found� (Docter/Fethi/Telmini, 2003: 46–48)� Another tomb dated to the VIII century was found not far from the funerary pits in the southeastern slope of the Byrsa hill. It is a shaft-tomb cut in the soft rock; parts of the shaft and of the chamber were built with an ashlar technique� The tomb was found open and looted, but it was dated based on fragments of pottery found in the entrance� At present there is no indication of the type of funerary ritual (Telmini, 2014) However, we can say that—at least from an architectural point of view—the same variability that we observe in the East is also a feature of the very first cemeteries at Carthage. Conclusions Disparity in documentation about eastern and western Phoenician cemeteries has notably diminished in the last decades, thanks to the massive increase of research and publication after the end of the Lebanese civil war. Comparative analysis of the main eastern Phoenician funerary areas excavated until present shows that heterogeneity is a remarkable feature of these cemeteries during the X–VII century. At the present state of research, every cemetery seems to have individual and distinctive characteristics, and elements of variability (such as the coexistence of incinerations and inhumations or the different typology of the tombs) can be found in the same necropolis� These new data raise questions not only about the reasons for this diversity in the homeland, but also about the influence this variability might have had in determining funerary practices in western settlements� A quick overview of the burials from the VIII century —in Sardinia, in

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Ayamonte, in Mozia and in Carthage—show that, due to the fragmentary documentation of these ancient phases, only in Carthage can the coexistence of different funerary practices be found� On the other hand, Motya (Sicily), San Giorgio (Sardinia) and Ayamonte (Spain) seem to reproduce the homogeneous incineration cemeteries that we find in the homeland at Tyre-al Bass, at Tel el Rachidiyeh and in the northern cemetery at Achziv. Our understanding of this phenomenon is limited at present, due to both the very fragmentary documentation of the most ancient cemeteries in the west and to the still incomplete archaeological information about Phoenician settlements and cemeteries in the homeland. The objective of this paper is to stress the relevance of diversity as a characteristic feature of Phoenician funerary practices and, at the same time, to suggest that a better comprehension of the (social, religious, political) meaning of this variability in the homeland might provide valuable information about the diaspora in the western Mediterranean�

Bibliography Asmar, C., 1998: “La recherche archéologique contemporaine”. In Liban, l’autre rive. Exposition présentée à l’Institut du Monde Arabe du 27 ocrtobre 1998 au 2 mai 1999. Paris. Pp. 26–27. Aubet, M� E�, 2004: The Phoenician Cemetery of Tyre–Al Bass. Excavations 1997–1999. BAAL hors série I. Beirut. ― 2013: “Variabilità e sequenze funerarie nella necropoli di Khaldé”. In C. Del Vais (ed.): EPI OINOPA PONTON. Studi sul Mediterraneo antico in onore di Giovanni Tore� Oristano, 283–294� ― 2014: “Mortuary analysis and burial practices”. In M. E. Aubet / F. J. Núñez / L. Trellisó (eds.): The Phoenician Cemetery of Tyre–Al Bass II. Archaeological Seasons 2002–2005, BAAL hors série IX. Beirut. Pp. 507–529. ― 2015: La necrópolis fenicia de Al Bass (Tiro). Informe preliminar de la campaña de excavaciones de 2008/2009. Cuadernos de Arqueología Mediterránea 22, Barcelona� Aubet, M. E. / Núñez, F. J. / Trellisó, L., 2014: The Phoenician Cemetery of Tyre–Al Bass II. Archaeological Seasons 2002–2005. BAAL hors série IX. Beirut. Bernardini, P., 2000: “I Fenici nel Sulcis. La necropoli di S. Giorgio di Portoscuso e l’insediamento del Cronicario di Sant’Antioco”. In P. Bartoloni / L. Campanella (eds�): La ceramica fenicia di Sardegna. Dati, problematiche, confronti. Atti del Primo Congresso Internazionale Sulcitano (Sant’Antioco, 19–21 settembre 1997). Collezione di studi fenici 40. Roma. Pp. 29–62.

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Dayagi Mendels, M�, 2002: The Akhziv cemeteries. The Ben Dor excavations 1941–1944� Jerusalem� Dietler, M. / López Ruiz, C., 2009: Colonial encounters in ancient Iberia Phoenician, Greek, and indigenous relations� Chicago� Docter, R. F. / Chelbi, F. / Telmini, B. M., 2003: “Carthage Bir Massouda. Preliminary report on the first bilateral excavations of Ghent University and the Institut National du Patrimoine (2002–2003)”. BABesch 28. Pp. 43–70. Doumet, C., 1982: “Les tombes IV et V de Rachidieh”. Annales d’Histoire et d’Archéologie 1. Paris. ― 2003: “Jars from the first millennium BC at Tell el Rachidieh (South of Tyre). Phoenician cinerary urns and grave goods”. Archaeology and History in Lebanon 17, 42–51� ― 2004: “Jars from the first millennium at Tell Rachidieh: Phoenician cinerary urns and grave goods”. In C. Doumet–Serhal / A. Rabat / A. Resek (eds.): A Decade of Archaeology and History in the Lebanon. Beirut. Pp. 71–79. Doumet Serhal, C. / Rabat, A. / Resek, A., 2004: Decade. A Decade of Archaeology and History in the Lebanon� Beirut� Garbati, G. / Pedrazzi, T., 2016: Transformations and Crisis in the Mediterranean. ‘Identity’ and Interculturality in the Levant and Phoenician West during the 8th–5th centuries BCE. Supplementi alla Rivista di Studi Fenici. CNR. Roma. García Teyssandier, E. / Cabaco Encinas, B., 2009: “Hallazgos fenicios en Ayamonte (Huelva): la necropolis de la Hoya de los Rastros y materiales del habitat de la Mesa del Tejar”. In V Encuentro de Arqueología del Suroeste Peninsular. Huelva. Pp. 730–745. Gracía Teyssandier, E. / Marzoli, D., 2014: “Phönizische Gräber in Ayamonte (Huelva, Spanien). Ein Vorbericht mit Beiträgen von Bärbel Heußner, Ingrid Gamer–Wallert und Michèle Dinies”. Madrider Mitteilungen 54, 89‒158. Mazar, E�, 2003: The Phoenicians in Achziv. The southern cemetery. Jerome L. Joss Expedition Final Report of the Excavations 1988–1990� Cuadernos de Arqueología Mediterranea 7. Barcelona. ― 2004: The Phoenician Family Tomb T. N. 1 at the Northern cemetery of Achziv (10th–6th centuries BCE). Cuadernos de Arqueología Mediterránea 10. Barcelona� ― 2013: The Northern cemetery of Achziv (10th–6th centuries BCE). The tophet site. Cuadernos de Arqueología Mediterránea 19–20. Barcelona. Moscati, S., 1995: “L’età della sintesi”. Rivista di Studi Fenici 23 (2), 127–146. Mura, B�, 2016: La necropoli fenicia di Khaldé (Beirut, Libano): analisi della documentazione inedita degli scavi di Roger Saidah, campagne del 1961 e 1962. Unpublished PhD Dissertation, directed by M. E. Aubet, Pompeu Fabra University, Barcelona.

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― 2017, “A new light on the Phoenician necropolis of Khaldé (Beirut, Lebanon)”. In M. Guirguis (ed.): From the Mediterranean to the Atlantic. People, goods and ideas between East and West, 8th International Congress of Phoenician and Punic Studies, Sardinia 2013. Pisa / Roma. Pp. 256–260. Núñez, F� J�, 2008: “Western challenges to East Mediterranean chronological frameworks”. In D. Barndherm / M. Trachsel (eds.): A new dawn for the dark age? Shifting paradigms in Mediterranean Iron Age Chronology. Proceedings of the XV World Congress, International Union of Prehistoric and Protohistoric Science (Lisbon 4–9 September 2006). BAR International Series 1871, 3–27� ― 2015: “The al–Bass funerary set”. In Cult and ritual on the Levantine Coast. Proceedings of the International Symposium, Beirut 2012. BAAL Hors série 10, 235–254� ― 2016: “Considerations around a polarized Mediterranean Iron Age Chronology”. In L. Donnellan / V. Nizzo / G. Burgers (eds.): Contexts of Early Colonization. Papers of the Royal Netherlands Institute in Rome 64. Roma. Pp. 73–85. Prausnitz, M. W., 1960: “Notes and news”. Israel Exploration Journal 10, 260–261. ― 1963: “Notes and news”. Israel Exploration Journal 13, 337–338. ― 1965: “Notes and news”. Israel Exploration Journal 15, 256–258. ― 1982: “Die Nekropolen von Akhziv und die Entwicklung der Keramik vom 10. bis zum 7. Jahrhundert V. Chr. in Akhziv, Samaria und Ashdod”. In H. G� Niemeyer (ed�): Phonizier im Westen� Madrider Beitrage 81� Mainz am Rhein, Pp. 31–44. Quinn, J. C. / Vella, N., 2014: “Introduction”. In J. C. Quinn / N. Vella, The Punic Mediterranean. Identities and Identification from Phoenician Settlement to Roman Rule, British School at Rome Studies, Cambridge. Pp. 1–8. ― 2014b: The Punic Mediterranean. Identities and Identification from Phoenician Settlement to Roman Rule. British School at Rome Studies. Cambridge. Sader, H., 1995: “Nécropoles et tombes phéniciennes du Liban”. Cuadernos de Arqueología Mediterránea 1, Barcelona, 15–30. ― 2014: “Funerary practices in Iron Age Lebanon”. In G. Gernez (ed.): Funerary customs in Lebanon from Prehistory to the Roman period� Archaeology and History in Lebanon 40–41, 2014–2015. Pp. 100–117. Saidah, R., 1966: “Fouilles de Khaldé. Rapport préliminaire sur la première et la deuxième campagnes (1961–1962)”. Bulletin du Musée de Beyrouth 19, 51–90. ― 1967: “Chronique. G. Fouilles de Khaldé”. Bulletin du Musée de Beyrouth 20, 166–216� ― 1969: “Archaeology in the Lebanon 1968–69”. Berytus XVIII, 130–136. ― 1977: “Tambourit, une tombe de l’age du fer à Tambourit (région de Sidon)”. Berytus XXV, 135–146.

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Telmini, B. M., 2014: “Découverte d’une tombe construite du 8ème siècle av. J.–C., sur le versant sud–est de la colline de Byrsa à Carthage”. In R. Docter (ed�): Carthage Studies 8, 47–72� Trellisó, L. 2012: “Bio–archéologie de la necropole de Tyr Al–Bass: bilan de récherche”. In L’histoire de Tyr au témoignage de l’archéologie. Acte du Seminaire international, Tyr 2011. BAAL hors série VIII, 131–141. Tusa, V., 1972: “La necropoli arcaica e adiacenze. Lo scavo del 1970”. In F. Bevilacqua / A� Ciasca et al� (eds�): Mozia – VII. Rapporto preliminare della Missione congiunta con la Soprintendenza alle Antichità della Sicilia Occidentale. Studi Semitici 40. Roma. Pp. 7–81.

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Fig. 1: Tyre –al Bass, plan of part of the necropolis excavated in 2008 (Aubet, 2015: fig. 8).

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Fig. 2: Khaldé, plan of part of the funerary area excavated by Roger Saidah in 1961–1962. Elaboration from the original plans stored in the National Museum of Beirut (Mura, 2016, pl. IV).

Bibliography abbreviations: BAAL = Bulletin d’Archéologie et d’Architecture Libanaises BABesch = Bulletin Antieke Beschaving BAR = British Archaeological Reports CNR = Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche

Trade and exchange between Phoenicia and Greece: the early pottery evidence May Haider Some contacts between Greece and the Levant seem to have survived the calamities that befell the Mycenaean and much of the Levantine world around 1200 BC� They are detectable in poetry, rituals, myth and archaeology particularly in Cyprus and Crete� While addressing the question of exchange between the Greeks and the Phoenicians during the 1st millennium BC through the pottery imports, more precisely through the Greek pottery importation, we have to bear in mind that this has always been examined from a classicist point of view, never as a phenomenon common to an entire geographical area, and has always concerned whole historical periods rather than case studies of individual sites1� The “hellenocentric” view and the misinterpretation of archeological sources are based generally on the idealization of the ancient Greeks since the end of the 18th century� Of course, we should not forget the opposite current with the rise of the Phoenicomania in the 19th century� Nowadays it is more correct to look at Greek imports in an analytic context and through the history of the material culture of the receiving civilizations� The archaeology of exchange pushes us to question more the role of the Phoenicians and Greeks in the circulation of ideas and goods in the eastern Mediterranean� We are facing two civilizations with a common dynamic factor: namely exchange, being either an exchange of primary goods, manufactured goods or ideas. Despite political conflict, the two civilizations maintained a certain fluidity in their communications and mobility. We notice a period of expansion and intensification of

1

Important in this matter is the work of A. W. Johnston on graffiti. He demonstrated that the traffic of Greek pottery is not a random phenomenon but rather part of an organized network of trade and exchange (Johnston 2006).

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contacts and exchanges between the 10th and the 4th century BC indicated in historical and archeological sources� The exchange of pottery We admit that it is difficult to discuss the subject of exchange only through the impact of pottery. The study of ancient commerce is a complex field where the archeological data in not always helpful in shaping interpretation� It is evident that the total value of the commerce cannot be estimated only from ceramic factors since the grand majority of the merchandise was perishable and left no visible archaeological trace� The long distance trade of pottery is not enough to establish the history of commercial exchange, but we should not economically underestimate the phenomenon of its commercialization. For example, the study of imported fine wares along with the transport amphora can help us establish the existence of commercial routes between Greece and the Levant� It is not sufficient to look at the production and distribution of Greek pottery through the Greek economic system� To understand the consumption of these vessels by Iron Age Phoenician societies we should first understand how the dynamics of the Phoenician economy operated2� The subject of exchange between Greeks and Phoenicians in the eastern part of the Mediterranean has been quite a fascinating topic for several archaeologists and historians, yet it has never received the same scientific study reserved for exchange in the Punic world or what we can call the western side of the Mediterranean3� The first case is without doubt Al Mina, over which the classical archeologists have long focused on the question of Greco-Phoenician or Greco-Levantine exchanges in the Geometric Period. Al Mina was the first Levantine site with an abundance of Greek pottery to be excavated and published� John Boardman has considered (and still sees) Al Mina as a Greek emporion or “comptoire grec”, and he even pushed the interpretation further to consider the site as an Euboean colony with the role of hub for Greek commerce in the east. This is an example of a hellenocentric hypothesis based on a selective choice of Greek pottery that was given priority over the rest of the material found on the site, and without any

2

3

On the example of the work of Pierre Rouillard in the Iberian Peninsula 1999, 2000, 2003. And on the work of Arafat and Morgan on the Attic fine pottery found abroad 1994. Aubet, 2001: 97–143�

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precise archeological context. Basically, the local pottery was totally dismissed and never properly studied� In 1993 Jacques Perrault considered the interpretation made by Boardman and Leonard Wooley about Al Mina being a Greek Colony as a myth, regarding the site as a domestic site founded and inhabited by Levantines (with maybe a Greek enoikismos)� Yet the debate on Al Mina’s nature still went on, with scholars such as Josette Elayi defending its Phoenician character4, while others like Maria Eugenia Aubet considered it a “free port”5 where Euboeans and Phoenicians cohabited. In 2005 Niemeyer demonstrated that the famous Al Mina skyphos that was considered to be a local ware produced by Greek potters6 is actually of Cypriot production� And Joanna Luke re-questioned the entire theory of the Greek presence in Al Mina that was based only on the Greek pottery7� She interpreted the site as a “port of trade”, a concept developed to describe places of crosscultural exchange. A port of trade is a politically neutral institution which sponsors safe and reliable trading relations between strangers� The port of trade model placed the Greek fineware of Al Mina in the context of the wider material assemblage known from the site. Al Mina seems to have been feeding imports to a hinterland of the Amuq plain controlled by the 9th century Neo-Aramean kingdom of Unqi. So there is no available evidence for Greeks residing at Al Mina, either as traders or mercenaries� The only evidence of Greek interest in the port is the fineware, and that is an item of trade, being passed through the port to the hinterland beyond� The available material evidence suggests that Al Mina was a working port, a place where traded goods were stored and where people who controlled the trade lived� The imported pottery at Al Mina demonstrates not residence but trade8� 1200–1000 BC: the first contacts The beginning of the Iron Age is marked by the growth of Phoenician cities sharing the same language, religion and political organization� That being said, the first evidence of contact in the Levant did not come

4 5 6 7 8

Elayi, 1987: 249–266� Idem 4. Niemeyer, 2005� Luke, 2003� Luke, 2003: 45�

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from Phoenician coastal (or even Cypriot) sites. Here we have to take into consideration the relative scarcity of archaeological excavations in Lebanon and mainly in the area of Tyre� Levantine sites with Greek imports dating to the 11th century are Tell Afis (kingdom of Hama) and Tell Hadar. The oldest sherd until now had come from Tell el Safi. Although the material evidence is slim in this period and the imports are rare, we have one vase per site. One Late Protogeometric skyphos of Argolide origin was found in a domestic context in Tell Afis9, along with a fragment of an Euboean Protogeometric bowl from the public building context of Tel Hadar and a sherd from Tell el Safi—a wavy band deep bowl dated to the Late Protogeometric and originating from the Argolide. We note in this period the reception of Greek pottery in hinterland sites close to the Levantine coast� This indicates the will to regain contact between Greece and the Levant, yet the archeological data still does not allow us to determine the initiator of this will� But we can say that the primary sites on the Phoenician coast such as Tyre, Sidon, Byblos and Arados, were on the rise and benefited from social and institutional continuity from the late Bronze Age� On the other side of the Mediterranean we rarely find any Levantine objects in Greece in this period, and when found their origin is not yet defined (Cypriot, Phoenician, north Syrian, etc.). Yet they seem to be more frequent in the 9th century when pottery, bronzes, faience and jewelry found their way to Greece. From Euboea comes a fragment of Phoenician transport amphorae found in Crete, in the first phases of the sanctuary temple A of Kommos and dating to the Late Protogeometric10� Also on the Euboean island in tombs at Lefkandi we found an example of a SyrioPalestinian juglet from tomb S.46 that dates to the late Protogeometric (1050–1000 BC) and faience beads dating to the late Protogeometric from tomb S.16. Other rare examples from the Protogeometric were also found in Lefkandi and were interpreted as gift exchanges underlining the important role of Lefkandi and Chalcis in the trade roads� Susan Sherratt proposed that archeological evidence suggests that it was the Levantine who initiated contact going back to the old exchange area of the Bronze Age like Mycenae, thus the contacts with Argos�

9 10

Maeir / Fantalkin / Zukerman, 2009� Muñoz Sogas, 2017: 3–4�

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The 11th–early 7th century BC: establishment of the trade networks By 960–900 BC a systematic exchange system was in place with Euboea. Eastern imports were starting to infiltrate through to Lefkandi by 1000 BC, and by the 10th century Greek imports were reaching more Levantine sites� Euboea was beginning to enter the pan-Mediterranean networks of communication and trade� All the sites with Greek imports were either important political and trading sites themselves, or were very closely associated with them� Tyre was the most powerful of these and exercised some form of hegemony over them all. As in the case of Unqi, Greek contacts with Phoenicia were stronger in the pre–LG period and Euboean imports predominated� Tyre and Dor in southern Phoenicia yielded the most peculiar assemblage of Euboean imports. Scholars such as Sherratt, Perreault and Markoe maintain that Phoenicia transported and commercialized Euboean ceramics in the East11� By the mid-9th century BC we notice an intensification of long distance commerce on the Levantine coast with the construction of an artificial port like Tabat el Hammam. Greek geometric imports have now been found at many coastal and inland sites in the Levant, fineware being the most important type. There is a kind of standardization in the Euboean imports to the east, indicating a proper commercial exchange. Before the Assyrians provincialized most of the Levant by 720 BC, the region was divided into separate polities whose leaders made constantly shifting alliances in an effort to contain Assyrian power� Territory changed hands frequently� After 720 BC political borders between states were fewer, and cultural differentiation between states less marked: for example, measurements were unified and intra-Levantine transport expanded. So, most of the material has proven to be Euboean in the Levant. Its quantity augmented drastically, being mainly of the small skyphos type with semi-circular pendants� And the quality became more and more scarce, indicating standardization in its production� More sites were receiving Greek imports; importation even reached Assyria where Euboean pottery was found in Tell Halaf. We have examples from Tell Afis, Ras Basit, Ras Ibn Hani, Tell Sukas, Hama, Khaldeh, Tamboruite, Sidon, Sarepta, Tell Rachidieh, Tell Kabri, Tyre, and in the southern Levant from Tell Abu Hawam, Tell Qiri, Megiddo, Tell Hadar, and Ashkalon�

11

Markoe, 2000, Sherratt, 2010 and Perreault, 1993.

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After Al Mina, Tyre is the find spot with the greatest number of Greek geometric imports in the Levant: 59 semi-circular pendant skyphoi and 28 plates12. Tell Rachidieh, situated just 4 km south of Tyre, was probably a suburban cemetery of that major settlement� The grave containing these pieces has been described as “the nearest available thing to a Phoenician elite assemblage in the homeland”13� Although relevant literary evidence is sparse, the description of Ezekiel from the 6th century portrays Tyre as a “port of trade”14 with a huge variety of goods and traders coming from all over the Mediterranean� Tyre also fed her own products into the trade system, such as textiles and worked ivory� Tyre promoted diplomatic relations with neighboring areas such as southern Levant (Jezebal of Tyre married Ahab), and Egypt, etc� As well as matrimony, gift exchange is a documented part of the city’s diplomatic offensive with potential trading partners� Tyrian envoys are depicted bringing gifts, including monkeys and linen, on the occasion of the opening of Assurnasirpal II’s palace, probably for the right to gain access to raw materials�15 The excavation in Tyre yielded monumental complex buildings from the 760–740 BC, indicating that the increase of imported Greek pottery corresponds with a period of prosperity and wealth in the city. Imported Euboean pottery at both port sites and central places consists of various types of cups, kraters and amphorae; there is also a significant number of plates. No geometric cooking wares have been reported on any site� The distribution of Greek geometric pottery in the Levant outside Al Mina is often dismissed as being of a rather accidental, meaningless character, with sherds being “distributed sporadically”� But a much more consistent pattern is emerging: imports are found either at ports (which funnel material inland), at central places (or site closely associated with them), or at sites which are both ports and central places� This distribution pattern suggests that the imports are not randomly distributed but rather form a coherent pattern of distribution from ports to central places� The presence of Greek imported pottery in the agrarian hinterland is accompanied by the presence of luxurious red slip Phoenician pottery and

12 13 14 15

Bikai, 1978� Coldstream, 2000: 17� Ezekiel XXVII, 24.

Aubet, 2001: 55, 90�

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Phoenician ivories. This indicates an exchange of agricultural goods with the manufactured objects of certain value� The restricted distribution of these imports is noteworthy: only 26 sites have yielded evidence of Greek imports over 350 years, most of them in the period c� 850–750 BC� By the Late Geometric period only Al Mina has a significant quantity; Ras el Basit and Tyre have more than ten sherds in the Late Geometric Period. The contrast with the Late Bronze Age Mycenaean imports to the Levant is striking� Their import distribution is diffuse, covering nearly 90 sites of all types, suggesting that a much wider range of people had access to the imports� Something we also see later by the Persian Period is that Greek wares are very widely distributed, appearing on every excavated site16� There are many similarities between the situation in Al Mina/Unqi and the rest of the Levant by the late geometric period: there is no production of Greek vases, no imitation, no kitchenware; only a small range of shapes is imported, mainly cups, amphorae, kraters and mainly plates in Phoenicia despite their rarity in the Euboean homeland� A similar restriction in the distribution of pottery shapes occurred in the Achaemenid period17� It seems that those who supplied the East with pottery knew Eastern preferences and were able to communicate these preferences to the potters who manufactured them� The imports have a restricted distribution, centered on ports and central places, suggesting that they were not yet commodities, unlike in the preceding and succeeding periods� As for the context of the finds, geometric imports are often deposited in the central places, which is never the case at the ports. Further, where exact contexts are known they are often high status ones: “royal” sanctuaries or temples (Hama, Nineveh and possibly Megiddo), palaces (Hama, Tell Hadar), public buildings (Tell Qiri), elites burials (Tell Rachidieh), and elite zones (Ekron)� This suggests that some elite groups in the Levant, as in Unqi, were aware of and appreciated Greek imports. Of course, aristocrats would have preferred metallic to ceramic vessels, metal being more precious than clay� Yet there are “functions for which ceramic wares are much more suitable whatever the owner’s class, such as transporting and storing wine and the consumption of hot substances”�18

16 17 18

Waldbaum, 1997: 1–2� Luke, 2003: 47� Luke, 2003: 109�

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Yet whatever its domestic worth, there is no implicit reason why pottery should not constitute an import of value. In many societies the ability to acquire imports which have survived the difficulties and expense of early long-distance transport, especially maritime, signifies high status, membership of international clubs and successful relations with foreign traders. The contexts of some of the imports are impressive. When deposited, it is often in loci that could be classified as elite. These depositions indicate that the imports were valued; they weren’t simply appendixes of other imports (they could be that too) and they were valued by elites� The form of the imports is consistently related to feasting, i�e�, they were not just valued as imports per se but they had some inherent meaning� Feasting was their “appropriate social context”19 and as such they could be classified as luxury imports—goods whose principal use is socially/ rhetorically restricted to the elite (as their distribution and context seems to indicate) and require specialized knowledge in their use� Sharing food and drink was an effective diplomatic mechanism because it provided for the establishment of lasting bonds between participants, especially those who rarely saw each other� Sharing substances effects the simulation of kinship, the closest and most permanent bond of all� Exclusive feasting as high-status activity within the relevant polities can be the context of use of the imported Greek wares. Ugarit in north Syria is the likely origin of the marza’u, an exclusive men’s club, possibly of hereditary membership, that entailed heavy drinking sessions� The SyroHittite kings of the early first millennium BC repeatedly had themselves represented at feasts on monumental reliefs placed in prominent locations� Occasionally, these feasting scenes were associated with other identifiably kingly activities such as hunting or war� For the Phoenicians, evidence for feasting rituals, as for so many other aspects of their culture, comes mainly from their overseas diaspora� One exception is the sarcophagus of king Ahiram of Byblos which was dedicated by his son Ittobaal in the 10th century BC� The relief on one side depicts king Ahiram enthroned at a (funerary) banquet� There is literary testimony to the use of feasting as a diplomatic mechanism by Assyrians in the early first millennium BC. At the start of his reign in the 9th century

19

Moore / Philippides, 1986: 6.

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Assurnasirpal II held a great banquet to which envoys of many Levantine states were invited, including Unqi, Tyre, Sidon.20 The 7th century until the last quarter of the 6th century BC The second chronological phase of our paper is characterized by the decline of Greek pottery imports and the rise of the East Greek pottery� Commercial traffic between the Levant and the Aegean declined, starting from the mid-8th century BC, and around 700 BC Euboean imports completely disappear� This is mainly linked to the development of the East Greek cities and the Assyrians and Phoenicians shifting to new markets. Imports of this period come mainly from East Greece. We found East Greek pottery in Bassit, Al Mina, Tyre, Dor, and Beirut� These imports are mainly concentrated in the Northern Levantine sites� They seem to belong to the same exchange route as the previous period. The bird bowls of the 7th century BC are one example of how East Greek pottery was previously circulating through the same networks of the Euboean imports� These bird bowls are found in Malta, Sicily, Carthage, Etruria and the south of Spain� Al Mina seems to be a site of redistribution under Assyrian dominance. The scarcity of imports in central Phoenicia can be explained mainly by the end of the kingdom of Tyre and Sidon, and Assyrian military pressures under Assarhaddon (680–669 BC) and Assurbanipal (668–627 BC) which ended with the destruction of the cities of Sidon, Tyre and Akko� With the decline and the fall of the Assyrian empire at the end of the 7th century, the imports of East Greek pottery also become rare and only few Ionian imports reach north Syria and southern Levant. The importation of East Greek pottery into Phoenicia is very low. We have examples of 3 bird bowls in Tyre with one rosette bowl and a plate� Some sherds were found in Sidon, such as an Ionian cup from the end of the 7th century and Ionian plates from the 7th century� Sarepta, Achziv, and Byblos have yielded only one fragment of an Ionian cup and a banded vessel. From Tell Arqa came an example of another Ionian cup of the Type A1 dated to the end of the 7th century BC, along with Ionian cups from the 6th century and late wild goat style closed vessels dated to around 600–560 BC. The southern Phoenician sites Tell Abu Hawam and Akko delivered a few examples of East Greek imported pottery. Dor also yielded some bird bowls from the first half of

20

Grayson, 1991: 293�

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the 7th century and an Ionian cup of the Type B1 from the end of the 7th century or early 6th century BC. Tell Kabri is one of the Phoenician sites that yielded a high number of east Greek pottery with 5 bird bowls from the second half of the 7th century, 13 Ionian cups of types A1 and A2 from the second half until the end of the 7th century, 3 hemispheric banded bowls, and 2 oinochoi in the middle wild goat style� So in the Phoenician zones the number of east Greek imported pottery is very low. The Phoenician ports do not seem to be playing an important role as importer of goods but they are still integrated into the Levantine coastal networks, allowing them a certain access to Greek pottery. Traffic in this period was probably handled by the Ionians and Cypriots. Meanwhile, in Phoenician cities in the western part of the Mediterranean such as Mozia and Carthage, we notice a massive import of East Greek pottery yet with the same variety of forms and styles as in the eastern part. A large international network of exchange between the Ionians, the Etruscans and the Phoenicians seems to be developing and integrating the whole of colonial Phoenicia and the emerging Etruria. The Persian Period Archeological evidence from late Iron Age cities illustrates emerging urban societies and what could be considered as a wealthy elite that managed to flourish in a period characterized by intense Mediterranean commerce in a rather stable political atmosphere� During this same period we notice that Greek and East Greek pottery was imported in mass quantities all over the Levantine coast. While studying this extensive material we noticed that only specific typologies21 and iconographies made their way to this part of the Mediterranean� This phenomenon cannot be arbitrary but rather an indicator of sophisticated and urbanized societies that borrowed specific forms and stories from foreign cultures, adapting them into their own social, cultural and religious parameters� When artifacts move beyond the borders of the producing society and become integrated into the material culture of other social groups they acquire a new significance and start playing a new role22� Yet “the adoption of an object in a culture does not mean adopting the culture transmitted by the object, but the reception

21 22

de Vries, 1977: 544–548. Arafat / Morgan, 1994: 108–134�

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of an object implies a reinterpretation by the receiving society”23� The previously underestimated success of Greek pottery in the Phoenician market probably lies in the fact that Greek production included a variety of forms suitable for Phoenician use. The important attic pottery repertoire that was discovered in Phoenicia can only be proof of how important and prosperous the coastal cities were during the Persian period, with the vast majority being open shapes, i�e�, cups 50%, bowls 30%, and plates 4%� The most common shapes are drinking cups, bowls and skyphos, while larger container forms such as kraters and lekythoi are less frequent� Less than a quarter of the sherds collected on the Levantine coast are decorated with figures; the majority seems to be represented on probable kraters, cups, kylixes, askoi, lekythoi, skyphoi, pelike, and lekanis� The rest of the sherds are black glazed, with skyphoi and cups as the main imported typology� Most receptacles dated to the late sixth and fifth centuries are of fine quality, thin-walled and coated with varnish� With the mass production of the fourth century we notice monotonous finishing in most pieces, generally of a lesser quality, and a repetition of styles produced to respond to greater market demand� Drinking vessels are common in the Attic assemblages from their inception in the late sixth century. Drinking vessels are by far the most imported class in the Levant� Within this class only certain types such as skyphoi Attic Type A, bowls, stemmed cups and stemless cups show up with regularity in Sidon and the rest of the sites on the Lebanese coast� In the choice of typology we also notice the specific choice in the iconography of the imported vessels. Phoenicians seems to have played an active part in the choice of a figured theme. The figured scenes on the Greek vases could have lost their initial meaning when they were in the Phoenician context of use. Of course, due to the lack of any written sources, interpretation of the figures based on the repertoire of Phoenician representations in other cultural materials remains hypothetical, but we do believe that it can be a great help in better understanding our cultic contexts. So, the images represented on Greek vases are also subject to adaptation to the Phoenician symbolic system. When studying the imported figured Greek vases we notice how reduced the imagery corpus is; the locals

23

Hoder, 1987�

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only selected and imported some specific themes from the vast repertoire offered by the Greek ateliers24� It seems that very specific mythological and cultic scenes were not popular in the Levant; vases with general procession scenes seem to be quite popular instead, along with Dionysian scenes, and only some other selected deities found their way to the Levant� One should not forget that these vessels were found in sites that yielded no epigraphical record of any foreign cult—more specifically any Greek cult—so we have to acknowledge the local/Phoenician nature of the deity which was worshipped in these religious contexts. These gods can be easily identified with any of the local gods such as Melqart25 or Adonis26 or Eshmoun or Baal, all of whom are associated with the death and resurrection cycle and are celebrated through some kind of festive ritual� Death and resurrection were important divine themes, being metaphors of the agricultural cycle� So, honoring the gods seemed to be a must� Each city was governed by the divine couple of a supreme male and female deities� Even if the name of the chief male deity changed in each city, it remains associated with the concept of death and rebirth related to the agriculture cycle which, itself, is related to funerary rites through the dining ritual symposium known as the marzeah� The marzeah is a ritualistic mourning feast that in a way resembles the classical symposium, but also in another way is quite different27. In the Iron Age as in the Bronze Age, the elites of the Eastern Mediterranean employed common methods of association both within and between polities, among which feasting and gift-giving were essential characteristics. In contrast to the preceding and succeeding periods, Greek Geometric pottery has been mainly found in ports and central places, and was often deposited in elevated find spots. Furthermore, imports were restricted to a few forms effecting feasting, an activity used by elites within and between each of the cultures concerned� That some imported vessels were gifts is also possible, taking the example of archaic Etruria. Where imports are not likely to be gifts, their overall distribution and physical and social contexts underline the ability of the Levantine elites to control access to imports, which included pottery

24 25 26 27

Chirpanlieva, 2013: 186� For the image of the Cypriot Melqart, see Yon, 1986: 137� For the Adonis image, see Haider, 2011–2012� de Vries, 1977: 545.

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from Greece. It is not until the 850–750 BC (SPGIII period) that the widest distribution of Greek imports to the Levant occurs, and not until the LG period (720–700 BC) that the greatest quantity of imports occurs, with north Syria and particularly Al Mina as the most important find spots. After the disappearance of the Euboean and their pottery from the Eastern scene, Greek—mainly east Greek—then Corinthian and Athenian pottery enjoys a much wider distribution and is proportionally more important at the sites where it is found� By this time the imports are certainly commodities, imported per se and appreciated by a wide range of consumers as being equal, and often superior, to the local ceramics� The phenomenon of Greek pottery and mainly attic vessels in the Persian period is related to a wider phenomenon in the Levant, being that of the emerging urban societies and rich elite class28� The imported fine pottery was an indicator of the transformation in the social classes; imported vessels acquired value through their integrations into local social practices. In Phoenicia, we do not simply have a continuity of importation of Greek pottery from the 10th century BC until at least the 4th century BC, but also continuity in the selection of imported typologies and iconographies� Evidence of exchanges between Phoenicians and the Greeks can be traced back to the 10th century BC. The exchange of goods, aesthetic and philosophical ideas was attested between Greece and the Levantine coast in a sporadic manner. At first these exchanges could be attributed more to the phenomena of gift exchange and new trade networks for the Phoenicians. This trend of irregular exchange terminated in the 5th and 4th century BC with the development of the Persian Empire; a real network of commerce and exchange of goods and ideas is noticed, one example of this trend being the massive importation of Attic pottery into the Levant starting at the end of the 6th century BC and continuing all the way to the third quarter of the 3rd century BC, reflecting regular trade with Athens.

28

Martin, 2007: 274�

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Bibliography Arafat, K� / Morgan, C�, 1994: “Athens, Etruria and the Heueneburg: mutual misconceptions in the study of Greek barbarian relations”. In I. Morris (ed.): Classical Greece: Ancient Histories and Modern Archaeologies� Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pp. 108–134. Aubet, M� E�, 2001: The Phoenicians and the West. Politics, Colonies, and Trade, 2nd edition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press (1st ed�, 1987: Tiro y las colonias Fenicias de Occidente� Barcelone: Bellatera)� Bikai, P. M., 1978: The pottery of Tyre. Warminster: Aris & Phillips. Boardman, J�, 1995 (1964): Les Grecs d’outre-mer, colonisation et commerce archaïques, trad. Centre Jean Bérard, The Greeks Overseas: Their early colonies and trade� London: Thames & Hudson� Bourogiannis, G., 2009: “Eastern influence on Rhodian Geometric pottery: foreign elements and local receptiveness”. In V. Karageorghis / O. Kouka (eds.): Cyprus and East Aegean. Intercultural contacts from 3000 to 500 BC� Nicosia. Pp. 114–130. Briant, P., 1996: Histoire de l’Empire perse. De Cyrus à Alexandre. Paris: Éditions Fayard� Chirpanlieva, I., 2013: Grecs et Phéniciens en Méditerranée orientale. Les céramiques grecques, témoins des échanges entre la Grèce, Chypre et la côte levantine (Xe-IVe s. av. J.-C.). Thèse de doctorat, Université d’Aix Marseille, soutenue le 4 juin 2013� Christiansen, J., 1984: “Did the Kleophon-painter make Panathenaics?” In H. A. G� Brijder (ed�): Ancient Greek and Related Pottery, Proceedings of the International Vas Symposium in Amsterdam, 12–15 avril 1984� Amsterdam: Allard Pierson series. Pp. 144–149. Coldstream, N�, 1985: “Archaeology in Cyprus 1960-1985: The Geometric and Archaic Periods”. In V. Karageorghis (ed.): Archaeology in Cyprus 19601985. Nicosie. Pp. 47–59. — 1988: “Early Greek Pottery in Tyre and Cyprus: Some Preliminary Comparisons”. RDAC, 35–44, nos. 28–43. — 1998: “The first exchanges between Euboeans and Phoenicians: who took the initiative?” In S. Gitin / A. Mazar / E. Stern (eds.): Mediterranean Peoples in Transition: Thirteenth to Early Tenth Centuries BCE, in Honor of Professor Trude Dothan. Jerusalem. Pp. 353–360. — 2000: “Exchanges between Phoenicians and Early Greeks”. National Museum News, Beirut 11, 15–32� — 2008: “Early Greek Exports to Phoenicia and the East Mediterranean”. In C. Doumet-Serhal (ed�): Interconnections in the Eastern Mediterranean: the Lebanon in the Bronze and Iron Ages. London. Pp. 167–188.

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Crielaard, J.-P. / Stissi, V. / Van Wigngaarden, G. J. (eds.) 1999: The Complex Past of Pottery. Production, circulation and consumption of Mycenean and Greek Pottery (16th to early 5th c. B.C.), Papers of the Archon International Conference held in Amsterdam, 8-9 November 1996� Amsterdam: J� C� Gieben� De Vries, K., 1977: “Attic Pottery in the Achaemenid Empire”. American Jounral of Archaeology 81, 544–548� Docter, R. F., 2000: “East Greek fine wares and transport amphorae of the 8th-5th century B.C. from Carthage and Toscanos”. In P. C. Bonet / M. S. Retolaza (eds�): Ceràmiques Jònies d’època arcaica: centres de producció i comercialització al Mediterrani occidental, Atces de la table ronde d’Ampurias, le 26-28 mai 1999. Barcelona. Pp. 63–68. Elayi, J�, 1987: Recherche sur les cités phéniciennes à l’époque perse. AION 51. Naples� Grayson, A� K�, 1991: Assyrian Rulers of the Early First Millennium BC I (1114859 BC). The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia Assyrian Period Volume 2. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Haider, M., 2011–2012: “Fragment of an Attic Vase with a procession Scene from the College Site”� Archaeology and History of Lebanon 34–35, 389–398� Hodder, I., 1987: The Meaning of Things. Material Culture and Symbolic Expression. London: Unwin Hyman. Johnston, A�W�, 2006: Trademarks on Greek Vases. Addenda. Oxford: Aris and Phillips. Kohl, P., 1987: “The ancient economy, transferable technologies, and the Bronze Age world-system: A view from the northeastern frontier of the ancient Near East”. In M. Rowlands / M. Larsen / K. Kristiansen (eds.): Archaeological Thought in America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pp. 13–24. Lemos, I., 2002: The Protogeometric Aegean. The Archaeology of the Eleventh to Tenth Centuries BC. Oxford: Oxford University Press. — 2005: “The changing relationship of the Euboeans and the East”. In A. Villing (ed�), The Greeks in the East. London: British Museum Press. Pp. 53–60. Luke, J�, 2003: Ports of trade, Al Mina and geometric Greek pottery in the Levant� BAR international series 1100. Oxford. Maeir, A� M� / Fantalkin, Al� / Zukerman, Al�, 2009: “The earliest Greek import in the Iron Age Levant: new evidence from Tell Es-Safi/Gath, Israel”. Ancient West and East 8, 57–80� Markoe, G�, 2000: The Phoenicians, People of the Past� London: British Museum� Martin, R. S., 2007: Hellenization and Southern Phoenicia. Reconsidering the Impact of Greece before Alexander. Unpublished PhD thesis. University of California, Berkeley�

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Moore, M. B. / Philippides, M. A. 1986: Attic Black-figure Pottery, The Athenian Agora 23. Princeton. Morel, J. P., 1983: “La céramique comme indice du commerce antique”. In P. Garnsey / C. R. Whittaker (eds): Trade and Famine in Classical Antiquity� Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pp. 66–74. Muñoz Sogas, J., 2017: “The Role of Kommos in Phoenician Routes”. White Rose College of Arts and Humanities Journal 3, 1–20� Niemeyer, H. G., 2005: “Phoenicians vs. Greeks: Achievements and Polemics in Archaeological Research since the Discovery of Al Mina”. In H. Oniz (ed.): SOMA 2008: Proceedings of the XII Symposium on Mediterranean Archaeology, Famagusta, North Cyprus, 5-8 March 2008. Oxford. Pp. 11–17. Papadopoulos, J. K., 2009: “Phantom Euboians´ - A Decade On´”. In D. W. Rupp / J� E� Tomlinson (eds�): Euboea and Athens, actes de la conférence en mémoire de Malcolm B. Wallace, Athènes 26-27 juin 2009. Publications de l’Institut canadien en Grèce 6. Pp. 113–133. Perreault, J., 1993: “Les emporia grecs du Levant. Mythe ou réalité?” In A. Bresson / P. Rouillard (eds.) : L’Emporin. Paris. Pp. 59–83. Polanyi, K., 1957: “The economy as instituted process”. In K. Polanyi / C. M. Arensberg / H. W. Pearson (eds): Trade and market in early empires� Glencoe: The Free Press. Pp. 243–269. Renfrew, A. C., 1975: “Trade as action at a distance: questions of integration and communication”. In J. A. Sabloff / C. C. Lamberg-Karlovsky (eds.): Ancient civilisation and trade. School of American Research Book. Albquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Rouillard, P., 1999: “Le vase attique: de sa récolte à sa cartographie”. In M.-C. Villanueva-Puig / F. Lissarrague / P. Rouillard / A. Rouveret (eds.): Céramique et peinture grecques : modes d’emploi. Paris. Pp. 331–336. — 2000: “Le vase grec entre statut et fonction: le cas de la Péninsule Ibérique?” In A� Tsingarida (ed�): Shapes and Uses of Greek Vases (VIIth-IVth centuries B.C.)� Proceedings of the Symposium held at the Université de Bruxelles, 27-29 April 2006. Bruxelles. Pp. 365–376. — 2003: “Des vases grecs entre Grecs et Ibères”. In B. Schmaltz / M. Söldner (eds�): Griechische Keramik im kulturellen Kontext. Münster. Pp. 205–208. Rouillard, P. / Verbanck-Piérard, A., (eds.) 2003: Le vase grec et ses destins� Munich: Biering & Brinkmann� Rowlands, M. / Larsen, M. / Kristiansen, K. (eds.) 1987: Center and periphery in the ancient world. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Scheidel, W. / Morris, I. / Saller, R. P., 2007: The Cambridge economic history of the greco-roman world. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sherratt, S., 2010: “Greeks and Phoenicians: Perceptions of Trade and Traders in the Early First Millennium BC”. In A. Bauer / A. S. Agbe-Davies (eds):

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Social archaeologies of trade and exchange: exploring relationships among people, places, and things. Walnut Creek , CA: Left Coast Press. Pp. 119–142. Sherratt, S� and Sherratt, A�, 1993: “The Growth of the Mediterranean Economy in the Early First Millennium B�C�”� World Archaeology 24, 361–378� Sommer, M., 2009: “Networks of commerce and knowledge in the Iron Age: the case of the Phoenicians”. In I. Malkin / C. Constantakopoulou / K. Panagopoulou (eds�): Greek and Roman Networks in the Mediterranean� London / New York. Pp. 94–109. Tandy, D� W�, 1997: Warriors into Traders, The power of the Market in early Greece. Berkeley / Los Angeles / London: University of California Press. Vegas, M., 1992: “Carthage: la ville archaïque. Céramique d’importation de la période du géométrique recent”. In École Française de Rome, Lixus. Actes du colloque de Larache (8-11 novembre 1989). Rome. Pp. 181–189. Waldbaum, J. C., 1997: “Greeks in the East or Greeks and the East? Problems in the Definition and Recognition of Presence”. BASOR 305, 1–17. Wallerstein I., 1974-1980: The modern world-system� 2 vol� New York: Academic Press. = French Edition, 1980: Le système du monde du XVe siècle à nos jours. Paris: Flammarion. Vol. I. Pp. 1450-1640, Vol. 2. Pp. 1600–1750. Yon, M., 1986: “Cultes phéniciens à Chypre. L’interprétation chypriote”. Studia Phoenicia 4, 127–152� Yon, M. / Childs, W. A. P., 1997: “Kition in the Tenth to Fourth Centuries B.C.” BASOR 308, 9–17.

Abbreviations AION = Annali Supplemento / Istituto Universitario Orientale di Napoli BAR = British Archaeological Reports BASOR = Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research RDAC = Report of the Department of Antiquities Cyprus

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Fig 1 : Xth–VIth BC : Dynamics of exchanges in the Mediterranean basin.

Fig 2: Sherd from a wavy band bowl, dated to early Protogeometric and from the Aragolid peninsula. Tell Safi. Maeir, A. M., Fantalkin, A., and Zukerman, A. 2009. The Earliest Greek Import to the Iron Age Levant: New Evidence from Tell es-Safi/Gath, Israel. Ancient West and East 8: 57–80.

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Fig 3: chronological table of the studied region�

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Fig 4: Eubean Skyphos from Iron Age Levels, Sidon College Site.

Fig 5: Eubean skyphos Sherd from college Site Sidon�

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Fig 6: Geometric Krater with Tree of life motif, College Site Sidon�

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Textiles from Mesopotamia to Greece (3rd millennium BCE – 3rd century CE) Mary Harlow* and Cécile Michel** The craft of textile production has persisted in its traditional forms for millennia and, arguably, was only markedly changed by the coming of the industrial revolution in the eighteenth century. It is, however, still possible to find textiles made by hand in age-old traditional ways in many parts of the globe today. Textiles accompany us throughout our lives and, particularly in the form of dress, play a key part in the construction of individual and collective identities� This role of cloth and clothing as a vector for the expression of multiple identities has existed since the earliest times. Today we express gender, status, ethnic and religious affiliations, class, sexual availability, occupation, resistance and countless other versions of ourselves through the ways we chose to dress—and these habits and signifiers are not new to the contemporary world; they find expression far into the past� How universal is the language of dress in antiquity or should we link specific attitudes and styles to western or eastern sources? Can we see elements of exchange and influence? Research into ancient textiles and dress represents an interdisciplinary and international field of scholarship, but is still marginal in many academic disciplines. This can be explained by a number of factors. The most obvious is the fragmentary and disparate nature of the evidence (see below)� But just as important are the restrictions and constraints created by

* **

University of Leicester, GDRI ATOM. CNRS, ArScAn-HAROC, GDRI ATOM. We wish to thank warmly the organizers of this 11th Melammu symposium for their kind invitation which gave us the opportunity to present the type of research we are conducting as part of our ongoing collaboration in which scholars working on the Ancient Near Eastern sources and those specialized in western sources maintain a permanent dialogue on textiles.

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the traditional direction of many academic disciplines which view textiles and dress as lying on the periphery of ‘serious’ study� This view is often compounded by the somewhat artificial chronological and disciplinary boundaries which frame academic departments�2 One of these somewhat false boundaries is the conceptualizing of East and West as a dichotomy�2 The following contributions address cloth and clothing cultures from 3rd millennium BCE Mesopotamia and Syria, and 2nd and 1st millennia BCE Cyprus—a real crossroads of east and west in the past as it is today—to 6th BCE–3rd CE clothing regulations in Greek sanctuaries. In addition to their geographical complementary specialisations, these four scholars bring a wealth of interdisciplinary knowledge to the subject. It has long been recognised that the study of textiles and dress requires a multi and interdisciplinary approach—despite our best efforts we cannot all be experts in every area we need to research and symposia such as the Melammu meeting in Beirut in 2017 are excellent forums for us to exchange ideas and understand particular disciplinary approaches� Collectively, those who study textiles and dress in the past form a group of archaeologists (including zooarchaeologists and archaeobotanists), linguists, philologists, ancient historians, art historians, museum curators and conservators, and theatre costume designers and re-enactors� Here, our main disciplines are archaeology and ancient history, with a good smattering of art history, and our research covers a period of nearly four millennia� However, we have much more in common than perhaps might be thought at first glance. The study of cloth, clothing and associated crafts reveals a multiplicity of links between the past and the present, between cultures, and between the east and west� Cloth and dress are examples of non-verbal communication par excellence. Until recently the tools used to produce them were also silent partners in this communication� However, since the late twentieth century the study of textile archaeology has been given a great boost by several European research initiatives,3 and we are working together within the

2 2

3

See Harlow and Nosch, 2014� Textile terminologies, for example, must be studied across East and West for a better understanding of language constructions; see Michel / Nosch, 2010, and Gaspa / Michel / Nosch, 2017� Centre for Textile Research (CTR, Copenhagen); European project Clothing and Identities. New Perspectives on Textiles in the Roman Empire (DressID); Textiles from the Orient to the Mediterranean (PICS TexOrMed, French-Danish project).

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International Research network “Ancient Textiles from the Orient to the Mediterranean” (GDRI ATOM) which links together CNRS research teams in France4 with Leicester University School of Archaeology and Ancient History, and the Centre for Textile Research (CTR) at the University of Copenhagen� These scholarly initiatives have acted as springboards to a whole new generation of scholarship which aims to make the invisible nature of textile crafts, textiles and dress visible. The work of Eva Andersson Strand,5 who currently holds the only position of Professor of Textile Archaeology in the world at the University of Copenhagen, and those who have followed in her footsteps have made textile tools reveal their potential. We now have the ability to understand the range of textiles that could be produced by a community by virtue of analysing the types of tools—particularly spindle whorls and loom weights—which survive in the archaeological record� This relatively new approach has meant that many established collections of artefacts can be re-examined to reveal new and fascinating facts about production and consumption in the ancient world (see Landenius Enegren here)� This better understanding of textile production has fed into studies of dress history which might previously have privileged art historical or textual evidence� These more traditional approaches remain absolutely essential but, as we are now better informed about the processes of production and potentialities of cloth as well as cultural predilections for particular styles, traditional methodologies become ever more sophisticated� As historians of cloth and clothing we are all working our way around the Barthian problem of how to align our major sources of evidence: texts which describe, images which depict, and textiles which represent the material reality; they do not speak the same language but they do deal with the same things�6 We are constantly aware that one type of evidence should not dominate, but face the problem that in many periods and places in the past only one or at best two of these sources survive� Only very rarely do we find all three together in the same context.

4

5

6

ArScAn-HAROC (Nanterre), Archéorient (Lyon), Centre de Recherches Historiques (CRH) Université d’Auvergne (Clermont-Ferrand) ; http://www�mae�parisnanterre�fr/ gdri-atom/� Eva Andersson Strand is also the current director of the CTR. See for example Andersson Strand, 2010 and Andersson Strand / Nosch, 2015� Barthes, 1957�

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The non-verbal nature of dress means that as historians and archaeologists we exploit all the evidence to hand while at the same time resisting the urge to make dress and cloth simply the passive receptors of all that we think we know about a culture� The temptation is to impose on dress the elements of cultural norms that we associate with any given group and not to allow dress to become part of the dynamic�7 Dress can be both an expression of identity but also an agent of change and resistance. Notions of belonging and exclusion—and particularly of gender difference or, indeed, gender blurring—could and were all expressed through dress. What might come as a surprise are the ways in which the languages of dress and cloth are cross-cultural, and cross-cultural across time and space� Many cultures see the acquisition of clothing as a mark of civilisation, while nakedness or the discarding of clothing can be seen as both erotic and empowering or disempowering depending on the context (see Cecilie Brøns and Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel here). Images allow us to visualise the clothing of the past and are often seductive in their realism� However, the often fragmentary nature of the surviving material and conventions of representation mean even the most apparently obvious image must be treated with circumspection� Barbara Couturaud’s detailed examination of female garments depicted in shell inlays from Mari (Syria) demonstrates the care the dress historian needs to take with ancient evidence, and also in making connections to clothing as worn� For ancient historians the move from evidence to social reality requires a range of methodological gymnastics—again the Barthian problem—moving from text or image to clothing as worn. Written evidence for dress can be found in literature, religious, economic and legal texts or official inscriptions. When textiles and dress are mentioned in writing it is rarely simply to describe cloth or garments� Rather, descriptions of textiles and clothing are used to encompass a much wider range of subject matter, such as the character and status of an individual, to mark the differentiation of one group from another and to ascribe moral or immoral characteristics to the wearer� This is a code that presumably would have been understood by audiences in the past but often needs careful analysis by scholars to decipher the nuanced meanings associated with dress and textiles in the past. Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel examines Akkadian literature to uncover attitudes to gender,

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masculinity and civilisation which are expressed through the ways in which an individual is dressed (or undressed) and accessorised. In the Epic of Gilgameš, Enkidu, a poverty-stricken individual living on the edges of society both literally and physically by inhabiting the steppe, wears his body hair as clothing� This lack of clothing associates him with the beasts and we understand that he is uncivilised, living outside the community. Clothing is thus used to reflect the cultural values of a society. The type of dress an individual is wearing at any point in the Epic not only defines their social status but also their mental state and their closeness (or distance from) nature/civilisation� Coming forward in time, Cecilie Brøns addresses some similar themes to that of Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel. She deals specifically with regulations concerning clothing in Greek sanctuaries� Clothes as ritual garments and as gifts were circumscribed by a series of prohibitions or prescriptions� Here the evidence is primarily epigraphic, so part of the public record of the time� The regulations deal with the colour, shape and type of textile and demonstrate the many ways clothing could be used to identify priests, neophytes, initiates or just visitors to a sanctuary� As well as identifying individuals, dress plays a part in the performance of the ritual by establishing a particular space around the participants, moving them out of the profane everyday into sacred space� With Hedvig Enegren’s contribution we return to the material reality of textile production and perhaps an insight into how the textiles discussed by Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel, Barbara Couturaud and Cecilie Brøns might have been constructed—and perhaps might have looked. Research into textile tools together with minute investigation of not even textiles but imprints of textiles (pseudomorphs)8 demonstrates the wide range of materials available to peoples across the Mediterranean in the Bronze Age. If there is one thing this collection of papers demonstrates it is that in the 3rd and 2nd millennia BCE the ancient Near East and the Mediterranean areas shared a very vibrant cloth culture and the craft ability to create very diverse textiles.

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Addendum The text of this contribution was submitted in February 2018. On 4-6 December 2018, the international and final conference of the GDRI ATOM took place in Nanterre (France) on “Production to wardrobe from the Orient to the Mediterranean in Antiquity”� The proceedings of this conference have been published in Harlow, M� / Michel, C� / Quillien, L�, (eds) 2020: Textiles and Gender in Antiquity From Orient to the Mediterranean� London: Bloomsbury�

Bibliography Andersson Strand, E� 2010: “The Basics of Textile Tools and Textile Technology: From fibre to fabric”. In C. Michel / M.-L. Nosch (eds.) 2010: Textile Terminologies in the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean From the Third to the First Millennium BC. Oxbow Press: Oxford. Pp. 10–22. Andersson Strand, E. / Breniquet, C. / Michel, C. 2017: “Textile Imprints on Bullae from Kültepe”. In F. Kulakoğlu / G. Barjamovic (eds.): Proceedings of the 2nd Kültepe International Meeting. Kültepe, 26-30 July 2015� Studies Dedicated to Klaas Veenhof. Kültepe International Meetings 2. Subartu 39. Turnhout. Pp. 87–104. Andersson Strand, E� / Nosch, M�-L�, (eds�) 2015: Tools, Textiles and Contexts: Investigating Textile Production in the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean Bronze Age. Oxford. Barthes, R., 1957: “Histoire et sociologie du vêtement. Quelques observations méthodologiques”. Annales. Économie, Sociétés, Civilisations 3, 430–441� Gaspa, S� / Michel, C� / Nosch, M�-L�, (eds�) 2017: Textlie Terminologies from the Orient to the Mediterranean and Europe, 1000 BC to 1000 AD� Zea E-Books 56. Lincoln: Nebraska University-Lincoln Press. http://digitalcommons�unl�edu/zeabook/56/ Harlow, M. / Nosch, M.-L. 2014: “Weaving the Threads: Methodologies in Textile and Dress Research for the Greek and Roman World – the State of the Art and the Case for Cross-disciplinarity”. In M. Harlow / M.-L. Nosch (eds.): Greek and Roman Textiles and Dress: An Interdisciplinary Anthology� Ancient Textiles Series 19. Oxford. Pp. 1–33. McCracken, G� 1986: “Clothing as language: an object lesson in the study of the expressive properties of material culture”. In B. Reynolds / M. Stott (eds.): Material Anthropology: Contemporary Approaches to Material Culture. New York�

Textile and Textile Tool Expressions in 2nd and 1st Millennium BCE Cyprus Hedvig Landenius Enegren1

Introduction The multifaceted society of ancient Cyprus, a crossroads of peoples, is likely to have influenced textile manufacture on the island. Cyprus is thus compelling as a location with regard to any technological ‘dialogues’ between West and East. Textile products were undoubtedly an important

1

I thank Mary Harlow and Cécile Michel for inviting me to give a paper at the Melammu conference in Beirut. I also thank the Finnish Institute of the Middle East and its former director Raija Mattila and administrative assistant Manal Chatila for the excellent organisation of the conference. The study of the textile material in Cyprus was initiated during my Marie Curie Fellowship at the Centre for Textile Research at the university of Copenhagen (FP7 PIEF-GA-2011-298974 DIASPORA) with the project West and East –textile technologies and identities in South Italy and Cyprus in the 1st millennium BC� I thank Despo Pilides and Eutychia Zachariou of the Cyprus Dept. of Antiquities for all their kind help, and extend my thanks the all the staff of the Larnaca District Archaeological and the Kourion Archaeological, Episkopi Museums. I thank former curator of the Cypriote Collection Christian Mühlenbock and Collections manager Emma Andersson at the Medelhavsmuseet, Stockholm, for all provided assistance� A special thank you to Sabine Fourrier, University of Lyon, Pamela Gaber, Lycoming College, Gisela Walberg, University of Cincinnati, and Jenny Webb, La Trobe University, for kindly offering me the opportunity to study material from the sites of Kition-Bamboula, Idalion, Episkopi-Bamboula and Lapithos respectively. I thank Ina Vanden Berghe (KIK-IRPA, Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage, Brussels, Belgium) for her help in testing the fibre used in the textile samples� Some material discussed in the present paper was presented at the Ancient Cyprus Today, Museum Collections and New Research conference at the Medelhavsmuseet, Stockholm in 2015 and at the Purpurae Vestes VI Conference in Padova in 2016 and in Jennifer Webb‘s publication on Lapithos Vrysi tou Barba, Cyprus. Early and Middle Bronze Age Tombs Excavated in 1913, 2020 (see Landenius Enegren / Vanden Berghe, 2016; Landenius Enegren / Vanden Berghe, 2020 and Landenius Enegren, 2018).

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commodity for commerce and gift-exchange. 2 Coroplastic art attests to the flourishing textile production present on the island in the 2nd and 1st millennium BCE�3 Textiles require optimal microclimatic conditions to ensure their preservation� Consequently, they are relatively rare in archaeological contexts. They often survive as mineralised casts where the organic textile material has, in contact with the underlying support, created a chemical reaction in a substitution process which in turn generates a socalled pseudomorph�4 These pseudomorphs, often intermixed with intact fibers,5 can provide information on the spinning and weaving technology behind any given piece. Ancient textiles have also been preserved through impressions on pottery,6 soil,7 or as sealing impressions�8 Through the study of replicas of textile tools recovered in archaeological finds, experimental archaeology has perfected our knowledge of ancient textile manufacture. Based on the study of technical parameters such as weight and thickness/diameter of loom weights and spindle whorls respectively, it is possible to estimate within a range what type of cloth the tools from any given archaeological site were able to produce�9 Select Archaeological Textiles in Cyprus Korovia-Palaeoskoutella A textile sample (Fig. 1) discovered by the Swedish Cyprus Expedition in 1929,10 at the site of Korovia-Palaeoskoutella in the Karpas region,

2

3 4 5 6 7 8 9

10

Only traces of disintegrated textile finds were made on the Bronze Age Ulu Burun ship (14th century BCE) (Ingram, 2006; Pulak, 2012) but finds of glass ingots possibly intended for the production of glass beads, perhaps for use in textile decoration, would underpin a developed craft� Karageorghis, 1998� Chen et al� 1998; Sibley 1982. Good, 2001: 215� Doumani / Frachetti, 2012� Unruh 2008�� Oates, 2001: 298� Mårtensson et�al 2005–2006; Andersson Strand / Frei / Gleba / Mannering / Nosch / Skal, 2010; Andersson Strand, 2012: 208; Andersson Strand et al� 2015; http://ctr�hum�ku�dk/ tools/toolsreports/General__introduction�pdf [20/06/2017]; Andersson Strand, 2015� Åström, 1972: 10� The fragments are part of the Cypriote Collections in the Medelhavsmuseet in Stockholm

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consists of two small fragments probably from the same textile and possibly originally used to wrap an object or bones deposited in the burial�11 The mineralised cloth is a balanced tabby, meaning that the vertical warp threads interconnect with the horizontal weft threads at right angles and at equal single intervals in both thread systems� The smaller of the two textile fragments measures 2.3 x 1.5 cm with a 1.1 cm thickness, and the larger piece measures 2.7 x 2.6 cm with a 0.7 cm thickness. Thread diameter varies between 0.36 mm and 0.57 mm. In the larger fragment some thicker threads are visible and may refer to an in-weave to create a decorative element, but may also refer to a darn�12 Thread can be spun in a clockwise or a counter-clockwise direction; this is conventionally designated in the terms s and z- spun thread respectively� The letters refer to the middle twist angle of the letters S and Z� The thread in our sample is, as established by Geijer in 1965, s-spun, both in the warp and the weft�13 No selvedge is preserved� The thread count is roughly 10×10 per cm. Fibre testing points to the bast family, either flax or hemp.14 A reddish substance initially thought to be remains of a dye substance is due to contamination from the iron-rich soil, as the technical analysis revealed no traces of dye�15 Vounous-Bellapais In 1931–1932 during the Cyprus Museum excavations of the necropolis at Vounous-Bellapais under the direction of Porfyrios Dikaios, a spearhead (T 26� 79) was discovered on the northern coast of the island with cloth attached, which is now exhibited in the Cyprus Museum in Nicosia (Fig� 2)�16 The spearhead measures 53 cm by 5 cm with a rivet thickness

11 12 13 14

15

16

For the concept of wrapping in archaeological contexts see Harris / Douny, 2014. Landenius Enegren / Vanden Berghe, 2016. Åström / Geijer, 1964� Landenius Enegren / Vanden Berghe 2016: 187–194; Landenius Enegren / Vanden Berghe 2020: 451; Landenius Enegren, 2018: 30� Landenius Enegren / Vanden Berghe 2016: 187–194, with thanks to Ella Young for providing us with information on the Karpas region� Dikaios, 1940: 54–57: “…dagger-blade with mid-riff tang – cloth adhere to it…”� Pieridou, 1967: 25. Possible pieces of the same textile are stored at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. I thank Hero Granger-Taylor and Margarita Gleba for pointing this out�

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of 1�2 cm� The spearhead, of a common type, dates to the Early Cypriote IIIB-Middle Cypriote I period (2100–1850 BCE). The spearhead was most likely wrapped in the cloth and was thus deposited in the grave. The partially mineralised textile is well preserved. On the upper part of the spearhead the cloth has not entirely fused with the underlying support. The textile measures on one side roughly 17.9 cm in length and 2�4 cm in width, and on the opposite side 3�6 cm in length and 1.7 cm in width. The weave is, as seen in the Palaeoskoutella sample, a balanced tabby� The selvedge is preserved on a small part of it� Here the thread has a thread count of 9 warp threads and 12 weft threads� The thread diameter measures between 0�71 mm to 1�31 mm� The thread is spliced, 17 s-twisted and in parts S-plied� The single threads have little twist. Splicing, commonly found on Egyptian textiles from the Middle Kingdom, can sometimes be very challenging to detect� The practice involves two or more lengths of fibre being joined together in such a way that their ends overlap in order to form one continuous string�18 These can subsequently be spun using a spindle�19 Splicing is most probably present on all the textile specimens discussed in the present article. Fibre analysis of the Vounous textile suggests flax or hemp.20 Lapithos Sir John Myres’ excavations in 1913, at the site of Lapithos on the northern coast of Cyprus, yielded a knife and a pin with visible pseudomorphs�21

17

18 19 20

21

I thank Margarita Gleba for calling my attention to the probable splicing of the thread. As mentioned, splicing is difficult to detect but, in view of other Bronze Age textiles from Near Eastern contexts (Gleba / Griffiths, 2011-2012) which recall a similar structure, we can infer that the thread is spliced and in parts S-plied� The variation in thread diameter also suggests splicing (personal comm� M� Gleba 28�9�2017); see also Landenius Enegren, 2018: 31; Landenius Enegren / Vanden Berghe, 2020: 453. Granger-Taylor, 1998: 102. Barber, 1991: 48, with further references and Bellinger, 1959� The testing was performed at the Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage in Brussels, Belgium (KIK-IRPA) by Ina Vanden Berghe and Anne Coudray in October 2017 (Vanden Berghe / Coudray 2018)� See Nosch 2014 and Zohary 2012 for general information on flax. The pseudomorphs were noticed by Jennifer Webb, La Trobe University, Australia. See the publication on metal finds from Lapithos (Webb, 2020). I wish to thank her for kindly asking me to study these textile remains. I also thank the Dept. of Antiquities for their kind permission. See also Landenius Enegren, 2018; Landenius Enegren / Vanden Berghe, 2020�

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The context is funerary and dates to the Middle Bronze Age. The knife (Lapithos Metal 894) from Tomb 16�3 is of a common type and measures 10.6 cm × 3.1 cm (Fig. 3). The mineralised textile remains measure 3.3 cm × 2.1 cm on one face. On the other face the textile is present in two spots. The larger of these measures 3�9 cm× 2�9 cm and the smaller, located at the tip of the knife, 0.8 cm × 0.6 cm. Examination with a digital microscope shows the thread count to be roughly 14 threads per cm in both systems with a thread diameter of c� 0�5 mm� Splices are visible and in parts the thread is also S-plied; the un-plied threads have very little twist� The second textile sample from Lapithos is a pin (Lapithos Metal 1051) measuring 7�9 cm in length × 0�8 cm in diameter at the widest part (Fig� 4)� The actual pseudomorph measures 4�1 cm in length and 1�1 cm, wrapped at the top with a 0�3 cm thickness� The way the cloth wraps around the pin with a visible fold suggests that it once covered the whole pin� Accordingly, it is tempting to posit that the pin was used as a fastening device. Magnification with a digital microscope shows that the cloth is tightly woven, with an average thread diameter of 0�8 mm� Technical analysis of the fibre in both Lapithos samples points to a bast fibre, either hemp or flax.22 Select Near, Middle Eastern and Aegean comparative textile materialsimilarities and dissimilarities The Near And Middle East provides the closest roughly contemporary evidence with which to compare the Cypriot samples� Tell Abraq Small pieces of woven fabric dated to the 3rd millennium BCE (2100– 2000) were discovered at Tell Abraq, Umm al –Qawain, in the UAE: one piece on a spearhead, the other on a toe ring with the human toe bone still intact�23 The textile is of a loose plain weave/tabby type with s-spun thread. A small area of the spearhead also disclosed a pseudomorph showing a weft or warp-faced fabric, meaning that one of the thread systems has more threads per cm with respect to the other. The fibre samples taken

22

23

The testing was performed at the Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage in Brussels, Belgium (KIK-IRPA) by Ina Vanden Berghe and A. Coudray in October 2017 (Vanden Berghe / Coudray 2018)� Reade/ Potts, 1993: 99.

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from the weave on both objects initially revealed a bast fibre, either jute or linen, which further tests disclosed to be linen�24 This in turn would underpin an interpretation of a warp-faced fabric as linen seems to have been more often warp-faced as opposed to wool�25 Tell Brak A tabby weave was found on a third millennium BCE dagger blade (2400– 2150 BCE) in a ritual deposit at Tell Brak in modern day Syria� The traces of mineralized cloth attached revealed a fine s-spun thread with 10 x 13 threads per 0�5 cm�26 No information on fibre analysis is given. Sidon More than thirty small fragments likely belonging to the same mineralized textile were found in a female Middle Bronze Age burial at Sidon, 30 km south of Beirut�27 Analysis of the fragments disclosed that the weave, a balanced tabby, has a thread count of 20 x 18 threads per cm. The yarn is S-plied and measures 0�35–0�45 mm in diameter� Splices are visible� 28 No actual fibres were preserved due to high mineralisation, but the presence of splices in the fabric and the diameter of the spliced thread lead the authors to suggest flax, linen.29 Terqa A double jar burial of the Khana period (18th to 15th centuries BCE) at Terqa in modern-day Syria held the wrapped bones of a child in a well-preserved cloth�30 To my knowledge, no specific fibre analysis has been undertaken. However, the image provided in the excavation publication shows what

24 25

26 27 28 29 30

Reade/ Potts, 1993: 99. I thank Margarita Gleba for sharing her expertise and calling my attention to possible differences in fibre choice with regard to weft and warp-faced fabric. See also Gleba 2017: 1215� Oates et� al 2001: 234, 299, Fig� 323� Gleba / Griffiths, 2011–2012. Gleba / Griffiths, 2011–2012: 291. Gleba / Griffiths, 2011–2012: 291. Barber 1991, 68�

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seems to be a weft-faced tabby with s-spun thread, 31 which may indicate wool since linen, as mentioned, was more frequently warp-faced� Tappeh Hesar Small fragments of both s-spun and z-spun single thread “…coarse redbrown textile…” were found in a burial at Tappeh Hessar in north-eastern Iran in a 3rd millennium context.32 The fibre is not determined but is presumed by the authors to be wool� The use of the two spin directions S and Z was most likely applied for spin patterning purposes� The weave shows 8–10 threads per cm2 in both thread systems� A smaller coloured part revealed a higher quality denser thread count 33 Thera An example of Bronze Age (17th century BCE) carbonised textile remains, most likely pertaining to the same piece of cloth, were found in a pit at the site of Akrotiri on Thera and show a balanced tabby weave with 20–22 S-plied threads per cm in both directions. The fibre has been determined to be flax. The thread diameter variation amounts to 0.25–0.4mm. Magnification revealed an elaborately worked fabric with decorative elements such as embroidery and fringe work�34 Mycenae Another Greek Bronze Age textile find is on a spearhead at Mycenae from Tomb N of Circle B (16th century BCE). The textile in linen is a tabby weave with plied S2z warp and weft threads with a count of 20/22 threads per cm, with a mean thread diameter of 0�3mm�35 Both of these two Aegean textile remnants show a densely worked fabric with 20–22 threads per cm, one of which is also elaborately fashioned compared to the mean count of 9–14 threads per cm in the Cypriote textile samples, all of which are, moreover, in plain-weave�

31 32 33 34 35

Buccellati / Kelly-Buccellati, 1978: 14, Pl. VII. Ellis, 1989: 287–289� Ellis, 1989: 287–289; Völling 2008: 203. Spantidaki / Moulherat, 2012: 187-188; Smith / Tzachili, 2012: 142, Fig� 9�1–9�3� Spantidaki / Moulherat, 2012: 192�

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Textile Tools and Experimental Archaeology Experimental archaeology has furthered our knowledge and interpretation of the technical aspects of ancient textiles. The testing applied to replicas of textile tools recovered in archaeological contexts, now known as the CTR method, was developed by archaeologists and craftspeople at the Centre for Textile Research (CTR) at the University of Copenhagen in collaboration with the Centre for Historical-Archaeological Research and Communication (CHARC) in Lejre, Denmark.36 With regard to the technical analysis of spindle whorls, for instance, two parameters—weight and diameter of a whorl—influence the properties of the manufactured thread; the lighter the spindle whorl, the thinner the thread� Moreover, twist angle will influence the diameter of the thread.37 In the same burial as the textile fragments discussed above in Tumulus 7 at Korovia–Palaeoskoutella, a few spindle whorls of fired clay were also found� These range in weight from 9 to 30 grams� Five are spherical and two are biconical in shape� From the technical parameters we can infer that the spindle whorls could have been used to produce thread within the diameter range present in the textile samples with which they were found. This fact lends itself to the suggestion that these same whorls might have been used in the production of the fabric, although, of course, this cannot be ascertained!38 Kition-Bamboula The French Excavations at the site of Kition-Bamboula, on the south coast of Cyprus, recovered loom weights in situ stored in an amphora in the context of a sanctuary of the archaic period. The loom weights are of unfired clay and weigh between 200 and 500 grams (Fig 5).39 The donut/ torus form suggests to some that these implements were perhaps fishnet sinkers�40 However, this would seemingly only apply to those of fired clay,

36 37 38

39 40

Mårtensson et al 2005–2006� Andersson Strand, 2012; Mårtensson et al� 2006� Landenius Enegren, 2018. I thank expert handspinner Kim Caulfield for her kind help in discussing distaffs, the intricacies of spinning technique and how the physical properties of spindle whorls influence the final thread product. Caubet, 2015: 261–262; 271–272� Chavane, 1975: 76; 113�

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since for practical reasons any unfired material would quickly disintegrate in prolonged contact with water� Applying the CTR method, a potential loom set-up with one of the donut/torus-shaped loom weights weighing 469g and with a 61mm thickness demonstrates that the loom weight would have been suitable for the manufacture of a textile with a thread requiring 40g tension, resulting in a thread diameter of 1 mm with a warp count of 3�6 threads per cm� Keeping in mind the optimal number of threads attached per loom weight (10–30), these would consequently produce a rather coarse textile. In comparison, excavations at the Late Bronze Age–early Iron Age site of Episkopi-Bamboula—once an important trading centre also located in the south of the island not far from present-day Limassol41—have revealed the dominant loom weight shape to be the truncated pyramidal and the ‘sausage’ shape� The semi-discoid type with two holes also occurs� Some truncated pyramidal weights bear decoration on the top face (Fig 6)� Their weight ranges from between 69–336 g based on a sample of 29 loom weights studied to date� This weight range would allow for the manufacture of a broad range of textile qualities. At the ancient inland site of Idalion, reworked ceramic sherds have been found (Fig� 7)� It is likely that these were used in textile manufacture. 42 Simple truncated pyramidal loom weights also occur� The median weight for the total loom weights studied is 37g, which points to their use in the production of fine quality textile. Spinning-Direction and Cultural Connotation Thread can be spun with a spindle either clock-wise or anti clock-wise, in which the spin direction, as mentioned above, is conventionally designated as S or Z-spun� The placing of the spindle whorl on the spindle, which gives momentum to the spin, influences the spinning direction which, in turn, is culturally determined�43 A low-whorl placement gives a z-spun thread and a high whorl an s-spun� However, in the later Hallstatt culture

41 42

43

https://classics.uc.edu/index.php/research/bamboula Alberti et al 2012� For a discussion of the proposed uses of these implements including as spindle whorls, see Rahmstorf, 2008: 37–52. See also Laurito, 2013: 230–231. For the site of Idalion see Gaber, 2008 with further references. Barber, 1991: 65-66�

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both s and z-spun thread was spun, 44 using a low-whorl spindle,45 to create spin-patterns� In Egypt and the Near East high-whorl s-spun thread was the norm, whereas the Aegean world and Europe preferred low-whorl spinning, thus yielding z-spun thread. In Anatolia z-spun seems to have been the norm�46 In the Bronze Age textiles from Cyprus the thread is s-spun which would rather point to an affinity with Egyptian and Near Eastern spinning traditions. However, to complicate matters, flax/linen has a natural tendency to ‘s-twist’ in both dry and wet spinning tests�47 Where do we place Cyprus with regard to spinning culture? Tradition is based on techniques handed down through generations. In modern-day Cyprus spinning has customarily been high-whorl. In ancient times the evidence is not clear-cut� By looking at the attrition marks on Cypriote spindle whorls, Lindy Crewe points us to a low-whorl spinning culture�48 Use-wear detected on spindle whorls from the Late Early Bronze and Middle Bronze Age from Marki Alonia also suggests that the whorl was placed low on the spindle�49 Jennifer Webb further reached this conclusion from her examination of a metal spindle with the ceramic whorl and a piece of organic fibre still attached to it, now in the Zintilis collection at the Cycladic Museum in Athens�50 The truncated biconical whorl, here placed almost midway on the spindle, became popular in the Early Cypriote Bronze Age (c� 2100)�51 However, if the Zintilis spindle functioned as a distaff, where the biconical truncated whorl would offer perfectly balanced support for the fingers and the hand, this fact would impact the discussion of low-whorl versus high-whorl spinning culture in Bronze Age Cyprus�52 Caroline Sauvage highlights some examples of Late Bronze Age Cypriote whorls that show “…notches on their domes, pointing

44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52

Grömer, 2016: 171� Personal communication Margareta Gleba (4.9.2017) Barber, 1991: 65� Greiner, 2015: 36; Batigne / Bellinger, 1953: 671; Crowfoot, 1931� Crewe, 1998: 59� Frankel / Webb, 2006: 171� Webb, 2002: 365� Webb, 2002: 365 with ref� to Crewe, 1998� I thank Kim Caulfield for sharing her knowledge and informative assessments of spindles and distaffs (personal communication 26�02�2016)� She leans toward the interpretation, as proposed by Jennifer Webb, that the Zintilis implement is a spindle. Physical examination by an expert spinner would perhaps throw more light on the optimal use for this implement, distaff or spindle�

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towards the use of high-whorl spindles”�53 Moreover, she discusses some models of terracotta spindles found at Vounous suggesting that perhaps both low-whorl and high-whorl spinning techniques were present, one for plying the yarn and the other for spinning�54 The evidence at present remains inconclusive� A study of toolkits found in Early and Middle Bronze Age contexts, however, may support Anatolian influence pointing to a low-whorl spinning technology�55A bone spindle from Amathus in the Medelhavsmuseet in Stockholm with a biconical whorl attached (Fig� 8), unfortunately broken at both ends, does not thus provide information on the exact placing on the spindle, high or low.56 It can be noted that in all of the Cypriote Bronze age textiles I have examined spin direction is s, pointing towards a high-whorl spinning tradition, albeit keeping in mind the caveats discussed above� As a final consideration I would like to highlight the ‘archaeology of identities’ with loom weights as a point of reflection. Through these implements—although ubiquitous in archaeological contexts and although the general shapes recur through centuries—a certain site identity can, in my view, be gleaned, For every archaeological site studied the loom weights reveal an individual character, in part due to differences in clay composition, size, and sometimes shape� Nonetheless, when we have, for example, the same truncated pyramidal shape its expressions differ from site to site. It is when working with these tools that you sense their biography, to use Janet Hoskins’ approach, in which material objects possess an agency and this intangible but nevertheless strongly present agency also continues with the researcher. These textile tools are in their own identity sphere of sorts, where technological knowledge has been transmitted for generations and in which tacit and embodied knowledge play a big part. In a phenomenological sense this continues with the researcher’s hands� Swedish ethnologist Jonas Frykman uses phenomenological perspectives in his “quest to explore the cultural domains that have to do with experience, knowledge and feeling”.57 As Frykman and Gilje express so well: “The scholar is thus no longer an objective observer that stands at the side of his or her object of study, instead he or she is participant and

53 54 55 56 57

Sauvage, 2014: 221� Sauvage, 2014: 220–221� Smith and Tzachili, 2012: 148; Webb, 1996 The spindle with whorl is in course of study by the present author� Frykman, 2012: 19 (translation by the present author)�

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should as such use imagination and intuition allowing themselves to be inspired and implicated by the specific situation”.58

Bibliography Alberti, M. / Aravantinos, V. / Del Freo, M. / Fappas, I. / Papadaki, A. / Rougemont, F., 2012: “Textile Production at Thebes. A first overview”. In M.-L. Nosch / R. Laffineur (eds.): Kosmos. Jewellery, Adornment and Textiles in the Aegean Bronze Age. Leuven. Pp. 87–106. Andersson Strand, E. / Frei, K. M. / Gleba, M. / Mannering, U. / Nosch, M.-L. / Skals, I., 2010: “Old Textiles- New Possibilities”. EJA 13, 149–173. Andersson Strand, E�, 2012: “From Spindle Whorls and Loom Weights to Fabric”� In M.-L. Nosch / R. Laffineur (eds.): Kosmos. Jewellery, Adornment and Textiles in the Aegean Bronze Age. Leuven. Pp. 207–213. — 2015: “The basics of textile tools and textile technology - from fibre to fabric”. In E. Andersson Strand / M.-L. Nosch: Tools, Textiles and Contexts: Textile Production in the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean Bronze Age� Archaeological textiles Series 21. Oxford. Pp. 39-60. Andersson Strand, E. / Nosch, M.-L. / Cutler, J., 2015 “Textile tools and textile production—studies of selected Bronze Age sites”. In M.-L. Nosch / E. B. Andersson Strand (eds�): Tools, Textiles and Contexts: Investigating Textile Production in the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean Bronze Age� Ancient Textiles Series 21. Oxford. Pp. 191-196. Åström, P., 1972: The Middle Cypriote Bronze Age. Swedish Cyprus Expedition IV, 1B. Lund. Åström, P. / Geijer, A., 1965: “Remains of ancient cloth from Cyprus”. Opuscula Atheniensia 5, 111–114� Barber, E�, 1991: Prehistoric Textiles. The Development of Cloth in the Neolithic and Bronze Ages with special reference to the Aegean. Princeton. Batigne, R. / Bellinger, L., 1953: “The Significance and Technical Analysis of Ancient Textiles as Historical Documents”. PAPS 97: 6, 670–680. Bellinger, L�, 1959: Craft Habits part II: Spinning and Fibers in Warp Yarns� Washington� Buccellati, G. / Kelly-Buccellati, M., 1978: “The Terqa Preliminary Report No. 6: The Third Season: Introduction and the Stratigraphic Record”. Syro-Mesopotamian Studies 2: 6, 1–25�

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Caubet, A., 2015: “Les petits objets”. In A. Caubet / S. Fourier / M. Yon: Kition-Bamboula VI: Le sanctuaire sous la colline. Travaux de la Maison de l’Orient et de la Méditerranée, Série recherches archéologiques 67. Lyon. Pp. 261–275. Chavane, M�-L�, 1975: Salamine de Chypre VI, Les Petits Objets. Paris. Chen, H. L. / Jakes, K. / Foreman, D. W., 1998: “Preservation of Archaeological Textiles Through Fibre Mineralization”. Journal of Archaeological Science 25, 1015–1021� Crewe, L., 1998: Spindle Whorls. A Study of form, function and decoration in prehistoric Bronze Age Cyprus� Jonsered. Crowfoot, G� M�, 1931: Methods of Hand Spinning in Egypt and the Sudan� Halifax. Doumani, P. M. / Frachetti, M. D., 2012: “Bronze Age textile evidence in ceramic impressions: weaving and pottery technology among mobile pastoralists of central Eurasia”� Antiquity 86, 368–382� Dikaios, P., 1940: “The Excavations at Vounous-Bellapais in Cyprus, 1931–32”. Archaeologia 88, 1–174� Ellis, R., 1989: “Note on a Textile Sample from the Main Mound at Tappeh Hesar 1976”. In R. H. Dyson Jr. / S. M. Howard (eds.): Tappeh Hesar: Reports of the Restudy Project 1976. Florence. Pp. 199–220. Frankel, D� / Webb, J� 2006: Marki Alonia: An Early and Middle Bronze Age Settlement in Cyprus: Excavations 1995-2000. Studies in Mediterranean archaeology 123� Sävedalen� Frykman, J� 2012: Berörd. Plats,kropp och ting i fenomenologisk kulturanalys, Stockholm� Frykman, J� / Gilje, N�, 2003: Being There: New Trends in Phenomenology and the Analysis of Culture� Lund� Gaber, P., 2008: “The History of History: Excavations at Idalion and the Changing History of a City Kingdom”� Near East Archaeology, 71, 52–63� Gleba, M. / Griffiths, D., 2011–2012: “Textile Remains from a Middle Bronze Age Burial at Sidon”� Archaeology and History in The Lebanon Issue 34–35 Autumn and Spring 2011–2012, 285–296� Gleba, M. 2017: “Tracing textile cultures of Italy and Greece in the early first millennium BC”� Antiquity 91, 1205–1222� Good, I., 2001: “Archaeological Textiles a Review of Current Research”. Annual Review of Anthropology 30, 209–26� Granger-Taylor, H., 1988: “The Textile Material from Lahun”. In S. Quirke (ed.): Lahun Studies. Pp. 100–107. Greiner, K� A�, 2015: Reweaving the History of Two Late Antique Egyptian Textiles: An Analysis on Textile Fragments from The Institute of Egyptian Art and Archaeology at the University of Memphis (2004.1.4) and The Victoria

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And Albert Museum, London (294-1887). Master of Art Thesis University of Memphis� Tennessee� Grömer, K�, 2016: The Art of Prehistoric Textile Making. Vienna: Natural History Museum� Harris, S� / Douny, L�, 2014: Wrapping and Unwrapping Material Culture, Archaeological and Anthropological Perspectives� Walnut Creek� Hoskins, J�, 1998: Biographical Objects. How Things Tell the Stories of People’s Lives. New York / London� Ingram, R. S., 2006: Faience And Glass Beads From The Late Bronze Age Shipwreck At Uluburun. Master Thesis. Texas A and M University. Karageorghis, V., 1998: The Coroplastic Art of Cyprus, vol� 5� Nicosia� Landenius Enegren, H., 2018: “Ancient Cyprus: Bronze Age Textile Remnants And Tools – A Strategic Crossroads Of Spinning And Weaving Cultures?” In A. Tricomi / M.-S. Busana / M. Gleba / F. Meo (eds.): Textiles and Dyes in the Mediterranean Economy and Society. VI PURPUREAE VESTES International Symposium Padua-Este-Altino, Italy, 17–20 October, 2016� Padova. Pp. 29–38. Landenius Enegren, H. / Vanden Berghe, I., 2016: “Two ‘rediscovered’ textile fragments from Palaeoskoutella, Karpas peninsula”. In G. Bourogiannis / C� Mühlenbock (eds�): Ancient Cyprus Today: Museum Collections and New Research. SIMA PB 184. Uppsala. Pp. 187–194. –– 2020: “The textile on Lapithos Tomb 16:3”. In J. Webb: Lapithos Vrysi tou Barba, Cyprus. Early and Middle Bronze Age Tombs Excavated in 1913. Tombs 1–47. SIMA vol. 152. Nicosia. Pp. 449–454. Laurito, R., 2013: “Textile Production: Notes on Spinning and Weaving Tools”. In F� Manuelli (ed�): Arslan Tepe Late Bronze Age. Hittite Influence And Local Traditions In An Eastern Anatolian Community. Rome. Pp. 224–233. Lubsen-Admiraal, S�, 2003: Corpus of Cypriote Antiquities 25. Ancient Cypriote Art in the T.N. Zintilis Collection� Sävedalen� Mårtensson, L� / Andersson, E� / Nosch, M�-L� / Batzer, A�, 2005–2006: Technical Report Experimental Archaeology Part 1, 2005–2006� Copenhagen� –– 2006: Technical Report Experimental Archaeology Part 2:2 Whorl or Bead. Copenhagen� –– 2009: “Shape of Things. Understanding a Loom Weight”. OJA 28: 4, 373–398. Moulherat, C. / Spanditaki, G., 2009: “Archaeological textiles from Salamis: a preliminary presentation”� Arachne 3, 16–27� Nosch, M.-L., 2014: “Linen textiles and flax in Classical Greece: provenance and trade”. In K. Droß-Krüpe (ed.): Textile Trade and Distribution in Antiquity. Textilhandel und –distribution in der Antike. Wiesbaden. Pp. 17–42. Oates, D� / Oates, J� / McDonald, H�, 2001, Excavations at Tell Brak. Vol. 2: Nagar in the third millennium BC. Oxford.

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Pieridou, A., 1967: “Pieces of cloth from Early and Middle Cypriote Periods”. Report of the Department of Antiquities, Cyprus, 25–29� Pulak, C., 2012: “Uluburun Shipwreck”. In E. Cline (ed.): Oxford Handbook of the Bronze Age Aegean. Oxford (Online publication). Rahmstorf, L., 2008: Tiryns XVI: Forschungen und Berichte XVI. Kleinfunde aus Tiryns. Terrakotta, Stein, Bein und Glas/Fayence wornehmlich aus der Spätbronzezeit� Wiesbaden� Reade, W. J. / Potts, D. T., 1993: “New evidence for late third millennium linen from Tell Abraq, Umm Al-Qaiwain, UAE”. Paléorient 19: 2, 99–106. Sauvage, C., 2014: “Spindles and Distaffs: Late Bronze and Early Iron Age Eastern Mediterranean Use of Solid and Tapered Ivory/Bone Shafts”. In M. Harlow / C� Michel / M�-L� Nosch (eds�): Prehistoric, Ancient and Near Eastern and Aegean Textiles and Dress. An Interdisciplinary Anthology� Oxford. Pp. 184–226. Sibley, L., 1982: “Textile fabric pseudomorphs. A fossilized form of textile evidence”. Clothing and Textiles Research Journal 1, 24–30� Smith, J. / Tzachili, I., 2012: “Cloth in Crete and Cyprus”. In G. Cadogan / M. Iacovou / K. Kopaka / J. Whitley (eds.): Parallel Lives. Ancient Island Societies in Crete and Cyprus. London. Pp. 141–155. Spantidaki, Y. / Moulherat, C., 2012: “Greece”. In M. Gleba / U. Mannering (eds.): Textiles and Textile Production in Europe from Prehistory to AD 400. Oxford. Pp. 185–202. Unruh, S., 2008: “Ancient textile evidence in soil structures at the Agora excavations in Athens, Greece”. In C. Gillis / M.-L. Nosch (eds.): Ancient Textiles. Production Crafts and Society. Oxford. Pp. 167–172. Vanden Berghe, I. / Coudray, A., 2018: Fibre identification report of archaeological textiles from northern Cyprus (DI 2017.13569) (unpublished). Webb, J. M., 1996: “Spindle whorls and loom weights”. In D. Frankel / J. M. Webb (eds�): Marki Alonia. An Early and Middle Bronze Age Town in Cyprus, Excavations 1990-1994. Jonsered. Pp. 192–199. –– 2002: “New Evidence for the origins of textile production in Bronze Age Cyprus”. Antiquity 76, 364–371� –– 2020: Lapithos Vrysi tou Barba, Cyprus. Early and Middle Bronze Age Tombs Excavated in 1913, Tombs 1–47. SIMA vol. 152. Nicosia. Völling, E., 2008: Textiltechnik im Alten Orient: Rohstoffe und Herstellung� Würzburg� Zohary, D� / Hopf, M� / Weiss, E�, 2012: Domestication Of Plants In The Old World: The Origin And Spread Of Domesticated Plants In Southwest Asia, Europe, And The Mediterranean Basin, 4th ed. Oxford.

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Abbreviations

EJA = European Journal of Archaeology OJA = Oxford Journal of Archaeology PAPS = Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society SIMA = Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology

Fig. 1. Textile remains from Korovia-Palaeoskoutella. Photo. H. Landenius Enegren with kind permission from the Medelhavsmuseet, Stockholm�

Fig. 2. Textile remains on a spearhead from Vounous. Photo H. Landenius Enegren with kind permission from the Dept� of Antiquities of Cyprus�

Textile and Textile Tool Expressions in 2nd and 1st Millennium BCE Cyprus

Fig. 3. Textile remains on a knife from Lapithos. Photo H. Landenius Enegren with kind permission from the Dept� of Antiquities of Cyprus�

Fig. 4. Textile remains on a pin from Lapithos. Photo H. Landenius Enegren with kind permission from the Dept� of Antiquities of Cyprus�

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Fig� 5� Torus-shaped loom weight from Kition-Bamboula. Photo H. Landenius Enegren with kind permission from the French Archaeological Mission at Kition-Bamboula�

Fig� 6� Loom weight of the semi-discoid type from Episkopi-Bamboula� Photo H. Landenius Enegren with kind permission from the University of Cincinnati Excavations at Episkopi-Bamboula�

Textile and Textile Tool Expressions in 2nd and 1st Millennium BCE Cyprus

Fig. 7. Re-worked sherd from Idalion. Photo H. Landenius Enegren with kind permission from the Lycoming College Expedition to Idalion.

Fig. 8. Spindle with spindle whorl from Amathus. Photo H. Landenius Enegren with kind permission from the Medelhavsmuseet, Stockholm�

195

Dress, Gender and Social Status. Considerations on Garments in Mari (Syria, 25–24th centuries BCE) Barbara Couturaud The iconographic study of garments raises a number of problems and questions, for the most part because their representation is both partial and subjective: partial because we do not have the entire corpus of images produced by one society in a given period; subjective because garments work as visual codes on particular individuals whose identity and social status remain difficult to pin down. Indeed, images always result from a complex system of thoughts that is not easy to comprehend fully and must be judged without over-interpretation. In order to do so, it is necessary to understand what is represented and, indirectly, what is not� We must also characterize the iconographic forms used and their repetitions and interactions within a corpus. Concerning garments, only an exhaustive typology offers the possibility of evaluating all the forms represented in a corpus, their modes of depiction and their recurrence within iconographic themes, in order also to understand their possible role and function� In understanding what kind of visual code garments convey, it is also important to appreciate to what extent they depict a reality, an identity or a status, whether ethnic, social or professional� To illustrate the many questions raised by the representation of clothing, two examples will be presented in this paper� These treat male and female depictions which occur on the shell inlays of Mari, in modern Syria where more than six hundred fragments were unearthed, providing an extremely interesting repertoire of clothing1�

1

This work on garments is a part of a wider one on the inlays of Mari; see Couturaud, 2019�

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Produced between ca. 2500 and 2300 BCE, in pearly or non-pearly shells, the inlays were originally inserted in wooden panels that were destroyed in violent circumstances in antiquity� Only the inlays remained, mostly in the form of fragments, thus preventing us from restoring the aspect or the size of the original panels, their internal organization, the number of registers, or the position of the fragments inside the registers� In Mari the inlays were mainly found in nine buildings: seven temples, the city palace, and a building probably serving an administrative function2� Men’s skirts Before entering into the description of clothing one word must be said about the characterization of genders. In the representation of the bodies on the inlays there are no anatomical differences between men and women (fig.1, fig.6). All have their faces represented in profile, an almond-shaped eye and a round pupil� The eyebrow is curved� The nostril is always rendered, as well as the mouth� The torso is represented frontally, the legs and arms in profile, and all figures are barefoot. The individuals are mostly men and all are adults as there is no depiction of children in the corpus� Once these common generalities have been stated it must be added that the particular clothing or accessories that would be specific to the representations of men or women are the subject of much debate3� For a long time, scholars who have dealt with these questions have applied the cultural codes of their time to the Mesopotamians� Thus, men could not wear long hair4, the women represented were necessarily priestesses, queens or deities5, implying in fact that only such a status could justify their depiction, or the practice of singing, dancing or music could only be feminine6� Since the anatomical details of men and women are rigorously uniform, gender characterization derives only from the accessories and

2

3 4

5 6

For a more complete study of the buildings in which the inlays were recovered, see Margueron, 2004, Butterlin, 2010, Couturaud, 2019� McCaffrey, 2002: 383–384� See, for instance, A. Parrot’s thoughts on the impossibility for men to have long hair: “On sait que les Sumériennes portaient souvent le chignon formé de leurs propres cheveux […], mais à notre avis, le chignon porté par les hommes est sûrement postiche”; Parrot, 1935: 23. Concerning the identity of women wearing a polos, for instance; see below� See, for instance, C. L. Wolley’s certitude that the singer depicted on the Standard of Ur is a woman: “Behind the last seated figure is a musician playing on the lyre and behind

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clothing they wear� However, many questions remain and in many cases it is not possible to be completely affirmative about the gender of the individuals depicted on images. It is even more complicated since much information is missing about the garments and accessories in question: some Sumerian or Akkadian terms for garments are to date unknown� In fact, the study of garments in the Early Bronze Age suffers from a lack of textual information since it is difficult to establish a clear link between the vocabulary of dress in texts and on the images. For instance, we still use the name kaunakes which was first used at the end of the nineteenth century to describe the garment worn by the Mesopotamian7, or polos to describe a specific headdress worn by women. This analogy with the ancient Greek world shows in fact how little we know of ancient Mesopotamian clothing, despite very stimulating and significant progress in textile studies in recent years8� Men are generally bare-chested and wear a skirt closed by a belt with a knot at the back (fig. 1). Thanks to statues, it is known that this knot is in fact located slightly to the left side (fig. 12). The skirt generally falls below the knees, but can also be shorter9� The most common representation of the skirts comprises a terminal row of tufts (fig. 1). A second way of representing the skirts is by adorning the entire garment with tufts (fig. 2), as is shown on some statues (fig. 12). Similarly, while tufts are often represented very simply with a pointed end, they can also be depicted in a more detailed and complex way, highlighting the nature of the wool by means of incisions (fig. 2). Other types of skirts exist. Two men, one of whom might represent a dancer and the other a lyre-player, wear another model of skirt without tufts (fig. 3). One final model, referred to by André Parrot as a jupe tuyautée, seems to be made of four folds coming out of a belt, one at the front, one at the back and one on each side (fig. 4). This is frequently represented in Mari, notably on stone inlays10 or so-called Egyptian statues (fig. 13).

7 8 9

10

him stands a black haired woman with her hands crossed on her breast in the conventional attitude of the singer”; Woolley, 1934: 273� Breniquet, 2016� See, among others, Michel / Nosch, 2010, Harlow / Michel / Nosch, 2014� For a complete overview of all the skirts worn by men on the shell inlays of Mari, see Couturaud, 2019� Parrot, 1965: pl. XIV-1, Parrot, 1970: pl. XII–2, Parrot, 1971: pl. XIV–2.

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Unlike the statues on which the skirts are frequently represented with four or six rows of tufts11, the inlays tend to show smooth skirts with a terminal row of tufts. This point can be explained in two different ways. On the one hand, it is possible that the small size of the inlays tends to limit attention to detail, whereas this can be expressed more freely and easily on the statues; thus the statues allow a more complex development of the patterning of the tufts� Moreover, interestingly, the inlays showing clothing composed of several rows of tufts are slightly larger in size than the others� On the other hand, the two different modes of depiction may correspond to two different kinds of fabric, smooth skirts translating felt or tanned skin, and skirts with several rows of tufts expressing a heavier garment composed of wool� The idea that the garment composed of several rows of tufts could be a kind of apron worn over a smooth skirt has also been advanced12� It is perhaps unwise to bet on mere coincidence concerning such diversity in the representation of skirts, and those as peculiar as the jupe tuyautée for instance might be an expression of ethnic or social status, or somehow of the identity of the individual represented. It would be necessary to define more precisely the reason why one type of skirt is depicted rather than another� Some scholars have advanced chronological reasons, with the shorter skirts interpreted as the oldest ones13� This theory nevertheless has some limits, if we consider certain objects with a simultaneous representation of different types of skirts (fig. 11). Other scholars have assumed that the more one advances in time, the more one progresses in detail; consequently, the more sophisticated skirts would be the more recent ones14� This theory applied to images seems quite inadequate, and there are many examples to demonstrate that attention to detail and perfection are by no means a criterion of chronological advancement, but rather a question of workshops, of the dexterity of artisans, of worked materials or of the context of the dissemination of the images�

11 12 13 14

See Parrot, 1956, Parrot, 1967. Hansen, 1998: 59� Corbiau, 1936� Woolley, 1934, Spycket, 1981�

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Women’s dress Women are never bare-chested on the inlays of Mari� They wear two types of clothing� Only a few fragments, preserved only in their upper part, attest the first, the least common (fig. 5). It is therefore impossible to know the entirety of the garment. It is made of a fabric that runs diagonally across the chest, completely covering one shoulder and one arm and leaving the other naked� On the best preserved inlays we can see that the garment falls to the level of the waist; it only covers the upper body, meaning that it requires another garment underneath which could well be a dress or a skirt� On the other hand, if one imagines that this garment descends to the feet, it could correspond to the so-called kaunakes dress15, attested on statues from Mari (fig. 14) or the Diyala region16, wrapped around the body and presenting at the front a sort of armhole from which emerges the covered arm� On the inlays as well as on the statues, the covered arm is always the left one� This detail can be found in Sumerian literature which mentions that women wear their garments on the left side, implying that the left shoulder and left arm are covered17� This point is interesting because it suggests that this detail of representation is no coincidence, but reflects a reality. The second outfit, the most represented one, consists of a dress, sometimes longer at the back than at the front (fig. 6, fig. 8). This dress seems to consist of a single piece of fabric. It is not known how it presents itself in its upper part for the women wear a shawl on their shoulders, the two sides of which, fringed on the inner edge, are closed on the chest by one or two pins� This garment consisting of a dress and a shawl is absent from the repertoire of the statues where women usually wear a cloak (fig.15) or the kaunakes dress mentioned above (fig. 14). With one exception, the pin closing the shawl always has an eye that allows the suspension of a small string of amulets or beads, the last of which is rectangular, probably representing a cylinder seal� The pins are of three types. The most depicted one is the straight pin with a flat head, used in pairs to close the shawl (fig. 6). The second type is the straight pin with a round head, used alone and applied horizontally in the garment (fig. 8). Most of these types of pins were found in tombs, positioned on

15 16 17

After Parrot, 1956: 93. Frankfort, 1939, Frankfort, 1943� Stol, 1995: 124�

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the shoulder of skeletons, thus confirming the function represented on the inlays, namely the closing of a garment worn on the chest18� Finally, the third type is the curved pin with a lenticular head, used alone here too� One interesting point is that the archaeological specimens of these pins usually measure between fifteen and twenty-five centimetres. Proportionally, if women are estimated to have measured one metre sixty, this gives pins that would actually measure between thirty and forty centimetres, which seems far too long. The size of the pins is therefore deliberately exaggerated on the images and adds visual emphasis� Another remark: on the inlays, each type of pin has a specific association of beads and amulets suspended on a string� Thus, the one attached to the straight pins consists of three diamondshaped beads, a ring and a cylinder seal; the string of straight pins with a round head consists of two diamond-shaped beads, and the cylinder seal; finally, the curved pin with lenticular head shows one diamond-shaped bead, a round one and a cylinder seal. This specific recurrence and association between the pins and the string of beads probably acts as a visual code and a sign of distinction for the women who wear them� On the inlays, women systematically have their hair covered with a turban or a headdress, the polos� The turban can be represented in two ways which can be found on statues� The one most common on the inlays corresponds to thin, interlaced strips covering the entire area of the hair (fig. 7). This probably corresponds in reality to a long, thin turban surrounding the head� This headdress is represented on some female statues from Mari (fig. 16) or elsewhere, in Ashur for instance19� Another way of arranging the turban is depicted in a much more complex way, although perhaps representing a simpler hairstyle than the previous one� This turban, probably of the same type as the former, perhaps shorter, is placed on the top of the forehead, crossed or united at the back of the head, and then wrapped around the head to its highest point (fig. 7). Represented in profile, one part of it takes the shape of a comma or a U form (fig. 16). One first question arises here: if all women have a turban on their hair on the inlays and statues of Mari, does this translate to a systematic reality? Before answering this question one should first ask what these images show and, above all, who they represent and in what context. Thus the turban, if not worn every day by all women in Mari—which remains possible—might be only worn by some of them on some occasions� They

18 19

See, for instance, Jean-Marie, 1999� Andrae, 1922: pl� 34–37�

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could also be represented on the inlays in order to express a social situation or a rank, in a purely visual symbolic way� Lastly, beyond social status or identity, the turban could also have purely practical qualities, such as protection against the sun or against dust� When women do not have their hair covered by a turban they wear a headdress called a polos (fig. 6). Presumably specific to the region of the Middle Euphrates20, it is represented on certain female statues in Mari (fig. 15). It seems to be made of lightweight materials, composed of a high tiara, flared on the sides, and held by a broad and thick band passing over the forehead� These women are generally interpreted as priestesses21 or queens22� Although this remains unproven, it is always tempting to advance the idea that women wearing specific accessories are priestesses or queens, even if this is perhaps unwise as it would suggest that only such women deserve to be depicted on images� Still, it is true that this headdress seems to distinguish them from others, and it is indeed tempting to interpret them as priestesses or women belonging to the royal family� The two are not incompatible if one thinks of Enheduanna, daughter of the Akkadian king Sargon and priestess23, or the two daughters of the king Naram-Sîn who were also priestesses24� Aside from the headdress, nothing distinguishes the garments of these women from the others on the inlays; they wear a long dress and a fringed shawl on the shoulders, closed by two pins of the straight type with a flat head, arranged in crosses (fig. 6). Interestingly, it has to be noted that only women wearing a polos wear this type of pin. This could suggest that these specific pins act as a social marker or a dress code combined with the polos. It should be mentioned, however, that the representation of women with polos on the inlays differs from the ones depicted on statues since those women wear a cloak, a different kind of dress and no pins (fig.15). It could be argued that the cloak covers the pins� Then, one question would remain: why is the cloak not represented on women depicted on the inlays25?

20

21 22 23 24 25

The only other example found to this day outside Mari comes from the city of Terqa; see Herzfeld, 1914� Parrot, 1956: 90. Winter, 1987� Winter, 1987� Parrot, 1955: pl. XVI. A small fragment could actually represent this cloak, but it is too badly preserved to affirm it; see Couturaud, 2019.

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Conversely, the garment consisting of a dress and a shawl worn on the shoulders and fastened by one or two pins is not attested with certainty on other artefacts, even if two examples might represent the shawl without the pins. The first is a statue of a seated headless woman, found in Mari in the temple of the goddess Ninhursag (fig. 9). The published photographs of the object are not very clear, but one can see on the sides the depiction of a fringed shawl resting on the shoulders� The pins are not represented, though it should be noted that the upper part of the statue is broken and that the presence of the hands clasped together on the chest could be hiding this element. The other example comes from a cylinder seal impression representing a banquet scene (fig. 10). A cartouche, badly preserved, indicates that the original seal belonged to the spouse of a king of Mari26� One register shows two individuals wearing what could be a shawl on the shoulders� Here, again, the pins are not represented, but the small size of the object and the highly stylized depiction could explain the absence of this motif. It could also be the depiction of the fringed shawl represented on the inlays of Mari, worn differently� Here, the question would be: beyond the coincidence of the discoveries, why are the pins only represented on the inlays? Would it mean that the depiction of garments depended on the objects on which the women are represented: cloak on the statues, pins on the inlays? It would then imply that some objects are more suitable for the representation of garments, but on what basis? Could this be explained by technical reasons, or would it mean that some specific categories of women could only be represented on specific artefacts? Three other women deserve special attention in a scene depicted on the inlays, representing a weaving scene, consisting of assembling the thread together to prevent them untangling (fig.8). Two of the women are sitting on a small, low stool� The third is standing and holds a spindle with both hands� The three of them are each wearing a turban and a dress covered at the top by a shawl closed by a straight pin with a round head� Here, again, the three unique attestations of this type of pin, used alone on each occasion, are illustrated on these three inlays depicting this weaving scene� Moreover, to this day this scene is the only one known which represents this very specific weaving activity27. Would this confirm that specific artefacts are intended to bear specific images, specific scenes, and specific kinds of women, such as this weaving scene on inlays?

26 27

Beyer, 2007: 181–184, Colonna d’Istria, 2019. Breniquet, 2008�

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As mentioned earlier, iconographic recordings of activities related to weaving are more often depicted on cylinder seals28. Texts indicate that weaving represents an important economic and artisanal activity29� For instance, the archives of the city of Ebla, contemporaneous to the Mari inlays, show that the king‘s women were traditionally involved in these activities and that weaving and dyeing seemed to be exclusively feminine activities30. These archives also mention particular clothing, exclusively reserved for the wives of the king, the women of the court, or the wives of dignitaries31. These specific garments are sometimes attributed to deities and very rarely to men� Moreover, it seems that they always occur in conjunction with “silver pendants”32, perhaps brooches or pins to fix them. It is then very tempting to see here the ensemble of pin and string of beads shown on the inlays of Mari33� Following these ideas, the inlays would show women belonging to high society, potentially palatial, close to the king or his entourage. This somehow justifies per se their representation� Another element to point out is that all the examples showing the shawl and the pins come from the same area of the city of Mari, located around an administrative district within the so-called monumental centre, between the religious terrace and the palace of the city34� This district includes a building with an administrative function, probably in connection with the high priest of the city35� Some cylinder seals in the names of ladies belonging to the entourage of the sovereign were found in this district� Therefore, this area seems to be of some importance and could correspond to the place of work or life of members of the priesthood or of individuals close to the king, and probably more particularly women, which would confirm the high status of the women depicted on the inlays.

28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

Breniquet, 2008� Stol, 1995, Breniquet, 2008� Biga, 1987� Biga, 1987, Archi, 1996� Biga, 1987: 42� Couturaud, 2017� Couturaud, 2019� Margueron, 2007�

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Conclusion The examples discussed here demonstrate to what extent iconographic analysis of clothing can bring interesting insights to the study of material culture and ancient societies. Indeed, concerning the representation of women on the inlays of Mari, many questions can be asked with regards to the depiction of men and women in general: does the difference in dress between women represented on the inlays and on the statues mean that they do not have the same status? Or do the object and its nature impose a different mode of representation, for reasons that still remain unclear? This obviously raises the question of fidelity to the model and the effect of reality in the representation of the individuals. It is indeed difficult to understand to what extent a depiction is a faithful reproduction and mirror of a meaningful reality, or conversely a simplified figurative version. This difference between the reality of an object or a scene and its representation is obviously one of the aspects of images that is most difficult to explain. The question also speaks to the initiative of the artisan and their ability to represent garments. Indeed, taking into account the representation of skirts worn by men, were the least represented outfits the least worn and, conversely, the most represented the most common? Or does it simply depend on the artisan’s ability to depict a type of clothing? The question of the object is also raised, since a large one allows details which are much more varied and rich� This is observable when one compares skirts on inlays and statues� However, on the other hand, the representation of pins on women’s dress does not provide such obvious answers: pins certainly seem to be important accessories which play the role of obvious visual markers, but how to explain the fact that they appear on inlays and not on statues or cylinder seals? Does it have something to do with the size of the object decorated? Or does it simply mean that pins belong to certain women represented on specific objects? In any case, it is evident that certain accessories must be able to characterize the individual who possessed them. In the case of women depicted on the inlays of Mari, accessories such as pins and types of garment and headdresses are part of a real visual recognition. For example, there is undoubtedly a form of balance on the one hand between fidelity to reality in the type of pin and the depiction of the beads suspended on it, and on the other hand a distortion of this reality by deliberately exaggerating their dimensions. The study of dress codes on diverse objects is essential to gaining knowledge of ancient societies, although it must be considered in a contextualised and comparative way. An iconographic analysis extended

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to other examples of images and representations from the same period can open new perspectives, as shown here with inlays and statues, for instance� It is evident that dress codes exist. However, one may wonder to what extent the garments depicted reflect a form of reality, reveal an identity, or include a status, be it ethnic or social. Textual evidence has undoubtedly much to bring to the discussion, and the archaeological context has also to be carefully looked at in order to understand to whom those images are addressed and, consequently, what picture of the society it reflects. From this perspective, the inlays of Mari have much to bring to the debate�

Bibliography Andrae, W�, 1922: Die archaischen Ischtar-Tempel in Assur� Leipzig: Hinrich� Archi, A., 1996: “Les femmes du roi Irkab-Damu”. In J.-M. Durand (ed.): Mari, Ebla et les Hourrites. Dix ans de travaux. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations. Pp. 101–124. Aruz, J� (ed�) 2003: Art of the First Cities, The Third Millennium BC from the Mediterranean to the Indus� New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art� Beyer, D., 2007: “Les sceaux de Mari au IIIe millénaire, observations sur la documentation ancienne et les données nouvelles des Villes I et II”. Akh Purattim 1, 175–204� Biga, M.G., 1987: “Femmes de la famille royale d’Ebla”. In J.-M. Durand (ed.), La femme dans le Proche-Orient antique. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations. Pp. 41–47. Breniquet, C�, 2008: Essai sur le tissage en Mésopotamie, des premières communautés sédentaires au milieu du IIIe millénaire avant J.-C. Paris: De Boccard. — 2016: “Que savons-nous exactement du kaunakès mésopotamien ?” Revue d’assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale 110, 1–22� Butterlin, P., 2010: “Cinq campagnes à Mari: nouvelles perspectives sur l’histoire de la métropole du Moyen Euphrate”. Comptes rendus de l’Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres 154/1, 171–229� Colonna d’Istria, L., 2019: “Remarques iconographiques et épigraphiques concernant des empreintes de sceaux-cylindres inscrits de Mari – Ville II”, P. Abrahami / L. Battini (eds.): Ina dmarri u qan tuppi. Par la bêche et le stylet! Cultures et sociétés syro-mésopotamiennes Mélanges offerts à Olivier Rouault. Oxford, Archaeopress, 5-22. Corbiau, S�, 1936: “Sumerian Dress Lengths as Chronological Data”� Iraq 3, 97–100� Couturaud, B., 2017: “Of Pins and Beads: Note on a Feminine Costume in Mari”. Ash-Sharq 1, 62–68�

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–––2019: Les incrustations en coquille de Mari. Nouvelles données sur les panneaux figuratifs incrustés au Proche-Orient ancien� Turnhout: Brepols� Frankfort, H�, 1939: Sculpture of the Third Millenium BC from Tell Asmar and Khafajah. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. –––1943: More Sculpture from the Diyala Region. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hansen, D. P., 1998: “Art of the royal tombs of Ur: A Brief Interpretation”. In R. Zettler / L� Horne (eds�): Treasures from the Royal Tombs of Ur. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Pp. 43–74. Harlow, M� / Michel, C� / Nosch, M� L� (eds�) 2014: Prehistoric, Ancient Near Eastern and Aegean Textiles and Dress: an Interdisciplinary Anthology� Oxford: Oxbow Press. Herzfeld, E�, 1914: “Hana et Mari”� Revue d’assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale 11, 131–139� Jean-Marie, M�, 1999: Mission archéologique de Mari, vol. V: tombes et nécropoles de Mari. Beyrouth: Institut français d’Archéologie du Proche-Orient. Margueron, J�-C�, 2004: Mari, métropole de l’Euphrate. Paris: Picard. — 2007: “Un centre administratif religieux dans l’espace urbain à Mari et à Khafadjé (fin DA et Agadé)”. Akh Purattim 2, 245–277� Mccaffrey, K., 2002: “Reconsidering Gender Ambiguity in Mesopotamia: Is a Beard Just a Beard?”. In S. Parpola / R. M. Whiting (eds.): Sex and Gender in the Ancient Near East. Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Pp. 379–391. Michel, C� / Nosch, M� L�, 2010: Textile Terminologies in the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean From the Third to the First Millennium BC. Oxford: Oxbow Press. Parrot, A., 1935: “Les fouilles de Mari, première campagne (hiver 1933–1934). Rapport préliminaire”. Syria 16, 1–28, 117–140� –––1940: “Les fouilles de Mari, sixième campagne (automne 1938)”. Syria 21, 1–28� –––1955: “Les fouilles de Mari, dixième campagne (automne 1954)”. Syria 32, 185–211� –––1956: Mission archéologique de Mari, vol.I: le temple d’Ishtar. Paris: Geuthner. –––1965: “Les fouilles de Mari, quinzième campagne (printemps 1965)”. Syria 42, 197–225� –––1967: Mission archéologique de Mari, vol. III: les temples d’Ishtarat et de Ninni-Zaza. Paris: Geuthner. –––1970: “Les fouilles de Mari, dix-huitième campagne (automne 1969)”. Syria 47, 225–243� –––1971: “Les fouilles de Mari, dix-neuvième campagne (printemps 1971)”. Syria 48, 253–270�

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Spycket, A�, 1981: La statuaire du Proche-Orient ancien� Leiden: Brill� Stol, M�, 1995: “Women in Mesopotamia”� Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 38, 123–144� Winter, I. J., 1987: “Women in Public: the Disk of Enheduanna, the Beginning of the Office of En-Priestess, and the Weight of the Visual Evidence”. In J.M� Durand (ed�): La femme dans le Proche-Orient antique. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations. Pp. 189–201. Woolley, C� L�, 1934: Ur Excavations vol. II: the Royal Cemetery. New York: Carnegie Corporation�

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Fig� 1: inlay showing a man wearing a skirt with a terminal row of tufts (after Couturaud, 2019)

Fig� 2: inlay showing a seated man wearing a skirt entirely adorned with incised tufts (after Couturaud, 2019)

Fig� 3: inlays showing men wearing skirts without tufts (after Couturaud, 2019)

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Fig�4: inlay showing a jupe tuyautée (after Couturaud, 2019)

Fig�5: inlays showing women wearing a kaunakes dress (after Couturaud, 2019)

Fig� 6: inlay showing a woman wearing a dress, a shawl and a polos (after Couturaud, 2019)

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Fig� 7: inlays showing women wearing a turban (after Couturaud, 2019)

Fig� 8: inlays showing three women weaving (after Couturaud, 2019)

Fig. 9: statue of a woman wearing a dress and a shawl (after Parrot, 1940)

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Fig� 10: cylinder seal showing women wearing a dress and a shawl (after Colonna d’Istria, 2019)

Fig� 11: incised plaque showing men wearing different types of skirts and a women wearing a kaunakes dress (after Aruz, 2003)

Fig. 12: statue of Ebih-Il wearing a skirt with several rows of tufts (© RMN)

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Fig� 13: so-called ‘Egyptian’ statue wearing a jupe tuyautée (after Aruz, 2003)

Fig� 14: statue of a woman wearing a kaunakes dress (after Parrot, 1956)

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Fig� 15: statue of women wearing a cloak and a polos (after Aruz, 2003)

Fig. 16: statues of women wearing a turban (© RMN and after Parrot, 1956)

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Nude Females and Girded Men. Clothes and Gender in Akkadian Literature Anne-Caroline Rendu Loisel Since Roland Barthes’ article in the Annales (1957),1 the topic of cloth has never waned. Very recently, in their volume entitled What Shall I say of Clothes? Theoretical and Methodological Approaches to the Study of Dress in Antiquity, published at the beginning of 2017, Megan Cifarelli and Laura Gawlinski2 remind us how fruitful this topic is for the study of ancient civilizations� Cultural values and practices associated with dress and garment are related to various norms of gender, age, and social, religious, or political hierarchies. Cloth is a vector of identity, expressing either distinction or integration of an individual within a community. In a non-verbal rhetorical language, a particular piece of textile becomes a communicative tool to make oneself different from or identical to others, responding to cultural codes and norms. In the Epic of Gilgameš, when Enkidu goes down to the Netherworld, he is warned by Gilgameš not to make noise with his sandals, not to smell good, and also not to wear a fine garment, otherwise he will be recognized as a stranger—a living being among the dead—and will be captured�3 In the literature of the Ancient Near East those who are deprived of clothes, or possess only one, belong to the very poorest of society or are excluded from it. One of the most famous examples remains Enkidu at the very beginning of the epic of Gilgameš. Raised in the steppe, he wanders and lives with the animals� He is described as “clothed like dŠakkan”4 the steppe-god. His outfit is then the same as the animals: Enkidu wears

1 2 3 4

Barthes, 1957� Cifarelli / Gawlinski (eds�), 2017� Gilgameš XII, l.11–27; George, 2003: 728–729. lubušti labiš kīma dŠakkan (Gilgameš I, l.109, George, 2003: 544).

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his body hair as if it were a garment� He will acquire clothes only when he wants to be integrated into the human civilized world� Social success must be visually expressed from the clothes worn. This is the case for the protagonist of the story called The Poor Man of Nippur of the 1st millennium BC who has only one piece of cloth at the beginning of the story. In a dream, the protagonist of the Ludlul bēl nēmeqi “I will praise the lord of wisdom” (2nd half of the 2nd millennium BC) meets a beautiful young man with an outstanding garment�5 In the same vein, dirty and ripped garments may reflect the physical and mental exhaustion of someone, as is the case with Gilgameš when the king of Uruk arrives in front of Siduri after his long and painful trip�6 Similarly, demonic attacks are also compared to a garment that covers the body of the patient�7 The literature of the Ancient Near East also gives several examples in which the function of a garment is not limited to the covering of the body, but also expresses the affective state of an individual, or a new state of consciousness. When Gilgameš returns to Uruk after his long journey his inner changes are reflected by the new royal garment offered to him by Uta-Napištim. Clothes are a reflection of the individual, his/her identity, as is also shown by the symbolic uses of the fringe in legal contexts.8 Clothing participates in the staging of the body, its covering and its unveiling, deliberately dissimulating or exposing some of its parts. Bodily movements give to this piece of textile a dynamic dimension, playing with its colors, brilliance, tactile properties, but also the rustling of the materials, or the sweet-smelling fragrance emanating from it�9 Studying clothes goes far beyond the realm of textile production and also includes their wearers and their social interactions� Dress is a mode of communication� Quoting Cifarelli and Gawlinski: “Dress does not exist without the bodies of living persons, who make decisions while engaged in getting dressed, and experience the world in

5

6

7

8 9

“A remarkable young man of extraordinary physique, magnificent in body, clothed in new garments, Because I was only half awake, his features lacked form, he was clad in splendor, robed in dread” (Ludlul III, l.9–12; Annus / Lenzi, 2010: 23). [an]a le-et sa-bit ul ak-šu-dam-ma lu-bu-uš-ti iq-ti I had not reached as far as the alewife and my clothing was worn out (Gilgameš X, l� 258; George 2003: 692–693)� See for example in the Utukkū Lemnūtu exorcistic incantations kīma ṣubati katāmu, (Utukkū Lemnūtu III 32; Geller, 2016: 96; Stol, 1993: 51–53. Finet, 1969: 101–130� For the sensory dimension of divine clothes, see Neumann, 2017: 4–23�

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an embodied manner that is shaped by dress� The focus on the wearers as well as the semantic potential of dress encourages analytical approaches rooted in notions of agency, materiality, performativity, phenomenology, and practice studies� The residues of practices relating to dress and adornment are present in the visual, textual and archaeological records of the ancient world� They are preserved as the physical traces of dressed bodies, the images depicting them, the texts describing textile production or sumptuary customs, and even dress objects themselves (…) Although these representations have traditionally been used as a proxy for real-life dressed experience, they are highly constructed, static images of dress that necessitate additional interpretation, and as such have much to reveal about values attached to dress in a given culture�10”

As tools of expression and communication, dress participates in the social interactions between women and men, whether they belong to the same community or not, and then can be studied from a gender viewpoint. In the present paper my aim is to investigate the gender dimension at stake in the various ways to wear clothes or, conversely, to undress oneself� Focusing on Akkadian literature as its fictional mode conveys the cultural values associated with clothes and garments, I will try to highlight their roles in the interactions between women, men, gods, and goddesses� Several Akkadian terms designate clothes in various contexts; but in literary texts the vocabulary is much more restricted. Two main words seem to be employed� The most frequent is ṣubātu (TUG2): it is described as a simple piece of wool, without decorations, and worn by both women and men� Lubuštu (lubušātu, TUG2.HI.A) designates several pieces of textiles tacked together. Worn by deities and kings, it can be decorated with gold or other precious materials� There are also other words connected to this semantic root (such as libšu, lubāšu, lubāru, etc.). In literary context, these garments can be worn by both female and male entities� Therefore, if the vocabulary of cloth is not specifically attributed to one gender in literature we should rather concentrate on the way they are worn and on the gestures that accompany them� For this inquiry, one of the major sources at our disposal remains the Epic of Gilgameš as clothes play various important roles in it� The standard Akkadian version was discovered in the so-called library of the Assyrian king Assurbanipal (668–627 BC) in Nineveh in 1853� Constituting 11+1

10

Cifarelli / Gawlinski, 2017: x–xi.

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tablets, the story relates the friendship of Gilgameš, king of the southern Mesopotamian city of Uruk, and Enkidu, a savage created by the gods and living in the steppe. Together they accomplish several exploits such as bringing cedar trees back to Uruk. The gods started to worry about this powerful relationship between the two men and proclaimed the death of Enkidu� After this tragedy Gilgameš wandered in the desert looking for everlasting life, a secret from the gods that he would only obtain from Uta-Napištim and his wife, the two survivors of the mythological Flood.11 All through the epic clothes participate in various manners in the interactions between the main characters� They reveal the cultural values associated with the pieces of textile that cover the human or the divine body; clothes can not only be a mirror of the social status of the wearer but also his/her affective state� From a gender viewpoint, wearing clothes may express manly power, whereas it is the unveiling of the body that illustrates female attractiveness� I. Clothes and manly power At the beginning of the epic of Gilgameš the young men of Uruk are described as wearing a belt around their waist� a-[lik] ˹d˺en-˹ki-du3 a˺-[na Ur]ukki su-pu2-ri uz-[z]u-hu TUG 2 .IB 2 �LA 2 �MEŠ

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a-š[ar GU]RUŠ.MEŠ

“Go, Enkidu, to Uruk-the Sheepfold, where the young men are girt with waistbands” (Gilgameš I, l.226–227; transl. George 2003, p. 553).

TUG 2 .IB 2 �LA 2 �MEŠ (a logogram that could be equivalent to the Akkadian term nēbehu) designates a set of pieces of textile worn around the hips of men or gods (cultic statues)� This particular clothing element is directly connected to the male power of Gilgameš, his sex-appeal (lalû), as it holds his clothes back: “My festive garment, the girdle of my delight/ pleasure (lalû)�”12 Later in the text Gilgameš, coming back from the Cedar forest, prepares himself just before being interrupted by the goddess Ištar: im-si ma-le-šu ub-bi-ib til-le-šu 2u2-na-si-is qim-mat-su e-lu ṣe-ri-šu 3iddi mar-šu-ti-šu it-tal-bi-ša2 za-ku-ti-šu 4a-ṣa-a-ti it-tah-li-pa-am-ma ra-kis a-gu-uh-hu 5 dGIŠ-gim2-maš a-ga-šu2 i-te-ep-ra-am-ma

1

11 12

For a general introduction of the epic, see George, 2003: 3–155� lu-bar i-sin-na-ti-ia ni-bi-ih la-le-e-a (Gilgameš VIII, l.48; George, 2003: 654–655).

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“He washed his dirty hair, cleaned his equipment� He shook his locks down over his back� He cast aside his dirty things, he clothed himself with his clean things. He wrapped himself in cloaks-āṣītu, tied with a sash (aguhhu)� Gilgameš put on his crown�” (Gilgameš VI, l.1–5; modif. transl. George 2003, p� 617)�

In lexical lists this waist-aguhhu can be of leather or textile as the use of the determinative TUG2 “textile” or KUŠ “leather” demonstrate so.13 In prayers addressed to the goddess of love Ištar, the waist-aguhhu can be offered by her (KAR 306, l.24) or be associated with physical and sexual attraction (inbu; KAR 357, l.28). At the beginning of epic of Anzû (1st millennium BC) the warlike behavior of the god Ninurta is metaphorically illustrated by this aguhhu-waist: [mūd]ê tuqmati mummillu aguhhu qardu “expert in battle, who makes the aguhhu swirl?, valiant�”14 In these few examples the waist that holds back the man’s cloth symbolizes his vital forces, giving a strong and positive impression of the wearer� The waist may then be a metaphor for warrior qualities and sexual contexts. Iconography in the Ancient Near East gives several examples in which a male entity is depicted with only this belt around his waist, no other clothes covering his body� The waist then has no other function than to highlight the power of the man, whether he is mastering natural—or supernatural—forces, or in ritual contexts. The best examples may be found on the cylinder seal impressions of the Akkad period where these two topics are illustrated. In the cylinder seal of Ibni-šarrum, a scribe of the king of Akkad Šar-kališarri (ca. 2183–2159 BC), two nude heroes with long curls hold a flowing vase, wearing only a waist�15 In another contemporary seal impression the nude but girded male entity belongs to the divine realm and is combatting a buffalo�16 This correlation may have begun much earlier: a statuette in gypsum and red pigment, unearthed in Tell Agrab and dated from the Early Dynastic I, (ca. 2900–2650 BC) represents a kneeling man holding a vessel� He would have been entirely naked if he had not been wearing a belt around his waist�17

13

14 15 16 17

It can be associated with kuš-la2 (Lu IV l.195) or tug2-bar-LU-a2-gu-hum (Hh XIX l.113). See CAD A/I: 159. Reiner, 1957: 108. K.7257, l.7. AO 22303, Louvre Paris, Aruz (ed.), 2003: 208, n.°135. The Pierpont Morgan Library, New York 159, Aruz (ed.), 2003: 217, n.°146. A. 18067, The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago; Aruz (ed.), 2003: 50, n°17. See also n°18, n°38.

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This waist may enhance the particular nature of its male bearer� Conversely, female seduction relies less on her nudity and the unveiling of the female body� II. Feminine seduction and nudity 1) The clothes of Šamhat Šamhat is the woman sent by Gilgameš to seduce Enkidu, the savage-man� Her way of unclothing herself is of great interest for understanding the technical aspects of feminine garments� When Šamhat meets Enkidu for the first time—one of the most famous parts of the story—she uses her sexual attractiveness to civilize him: 180

an-nu-u2 šu-u2 fšam-hat ru-um-mi-i ki-rim-mi-ki 181ur-ki pi-te-ma ku-zuub-ki lil-qe2 182e taš-hu-ti li-qe2-e na-pis-su 183im-mar-ki-ma i-ṭe-eh-ha-a ana ka-a-ši 184lu-bu-ši-ki mu-uṣ-ṣi-ma UGU-ki li-iṣ-lal “This is he, Šamhat! Uncradle your bosom; bare your sex so he may take in your charms! Do not show fear, take his breath! He will see you and he will come up to you� Spread your clothing so he may lie on you�” (Gilgameš I, l�180–184, George 2003, p� 548)�

The term kirimmu, attested from the middle of the 2nd millennium BC, designates a particular position of the forearm, with the elbow folded against the breast. It is the specific position of the wet nurse breastfeeding a baby. In an inscription of Assurbanipal, king of Assyria (668–627 BC), he spoke to the goddess Ninlil as if she were his mother: “(Ninlil), you raised me like a begetter mother in her sweet kirimmu”�18 On the other hand, Lamaštu is the best entity to illustrate the bad use of this physical position: the victims of her attacks are specifically pregnant women and babies: her embrace may be mortal to them�19 In the epic of Gilgameš kirimmu alternates with dīdū, a term for a piece of garment worn by women to hide their genital parts� This information indicates that Šamhat is wearing one piece of cloth held by her arm� When she unties it her entire body is unveiled, from her arms to her feet� She uses it to prepare a suitable place for their lovemaking that will last six days and seven nights�

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kīma ummi ālitti urabbanni ina kirimmeša ṭābi (Bauer, 1933: 87, l�18; vol� 2)� rittašu alluhappu kirimmaša mūt[u] “Her hands are a net; her kirimmu is death!” (Lamaštu Series II, l.153; Farber, 2014: 178).

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In Akkadian literature the goddess Ištar is also well-known for removing all of her garments in a deadly striptease� Ištar’s Descent to the Netherworld is already known from an older Sumerian version, but I will focus on the Akkadian version of the 1st millennium BC. Ištar decided to visit her sister, Ereškigal, who ruled the Netherworld, a kind of fortress enclosed by seven gates. In front of each gate the gate-keeper asks the goddess to remove one item of clothing or jewelry� first gate: agâ rabâ ša qaqqadīša “the great tiara of her head” second gate: inṣabāte ša uznīša “the earrings of her ears” third gate: na4erimmāti ša kišādīša “the beads of her neck” fourth gate: dudināte ša irtīša “the garment pins of her breast” fifth gate: šibbu aban alādi ša qablīša “the girdle of birth stones of her waist” sixth gate: šemer qātīya u šēpīya “her bracelets and anklets” seventh gate: ṣubāt balti ša zumrīša “the loincloth of her body” (Ištar’s Descent, l�42–60)20

Crossing the seventh gate, the naked goddess is vulnerable� By removing her accessories—jewelry and clothes—she has lost all of her divine powers� And this may be connected to other mythological events, like when a god is deprived of his power by removing his crown or garment (like Apsû in the Enūma eliš): “He (Ea) split (Anzu’s) sinews, ripped off his crown, carried away his aura and put it on himself�”21 What interests me most here is the final element she takes off. Where the Sumerian version only uses the term pala “garment,”22 the Akkadian version gives more details� The ultimate protection of her naked body is described as ṣubāt bālti “the cloth of dignity.” As Ulrike Steinert recently showed, bāštu is deeply intertwined with the unveiling of the body, from an erotic perspective. It is something that we put on as if it were a garment (halāpu)�23 Without this special piece of textile, the goddess is naked and vulnerable. This is probably going too far, but I wonder if we may deal rather with a metaphorical expression to designate the embodiment of the powerful nudity of the goddess, in clear opposition to her vulnerable

20 21

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Lapinkivi, 2010: 10–11� Enūma eliš I, l. 67–68 (Lambert, 2013 : 54–55). For a introduction and a translation of the myth, see Lambert, 2013 : 3–143; Kämmerer / Metzler, 2012� eTCSL c�1�4�1�, l�160� Steinert, 2012�

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nakedness� The nude (and powerful) deity may be compared to the terracotta nude feminine figurines found in the Near East from the 2nd and the 1st millennia BC� Although little is known about their ritual uses and fabrication, they are sometimes adorned� They evoke attraction, seduction, fertility, and in some ways could be associated with Ištar when she is clothed in this “cloth of dignity�”24 It is interesting to note that the bodily powers of seduction attributed to a man—such as Gilgameš—is based on one garment, a waist-aguhhu, that firmly ties his clothes, whereas for a woman her seductive ability implies an alternation of veiling and unveiling her body, letting the other see what would be hidden in a different situation� The garment participates in the erotic stage of the female body in close relationship with her male partner� In a bilingual incantation against the demoness Ardat-Lili, the demoness is described as a maiden who did not experience her sexual womanliness, who never unties her clothes: ki-sikil ur2-dam-a-na-kam : MIN ša2 ina su-un 15hi-li : mu-ti-ša2 16šu nutag-ga : ku-uz-ba 17la il-pu-tu2 18ki-sikil ur2-dam-a-ni-kam : MIN ša2 ina su-un 19tug2-ba : mu-ti-ša2 20šu nu-si-ga : ṣu-bat-sa 21la iš-hu-ṭu 22ki-sikil lu2-guruš-ša4-ga : MIN ša2 eṭ-lu dam-qu 23dalla-a-ni : ṣil-la-ša2 24nu-ba-abdu8-a : la-a ip-ṭu-ru 14

“The young lady, who in the bosom of her husband, did not touch his attractiveness; 18The young lady, who in the bosom of her husband, did not take off her garment 22The young lady, for who no beautiful young man her fibula, did not loosen.”25

For non-seductive interaction, women wear specific garments—dress, veil, etc.—which reflect their social status or religious role. Ninsuna, the mother of Gilgameš, started to worry when she heard her son would go into the Cedar Forest; she addressed her prayer to the Sun-god Šamaš, and the text narrates her ritual preparations: [a-na E]2 nar-ma-ku 7-šu2 ˹i-te˺-ru-ub 38[u2-tal-li]l ra-man-šu2 ina A�MEŠ GIŠ.ŠINIG˺ u u2tu-lal 39[x x x] x raq-qa-ta si-mat pag-ri-ša2 40[x x x-l]i-mu si-mat ir-te-ša2 41[x x x x] iš-šak-nam-ma a-ga-ša2 ap-rat 37

“She went seven times into the bath-room, [she cleansed] herself in water (perfumed with) tamarisk and soapwort, [she dressed in] a fine garment

24 25

Donnat / Hunziker / Weygand (eds�), 2018� Lackenbacher, 1971: 136, l�14–24�

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(raqqatu), the adornment of her body, […] the adornment of her breast� […] was put in place and she was wearing her crown�” (Gilgameš III, l.3741, transl� George 2003, p� 576)�

The term raqqatu usually designates a fine textile. This ritual preparation of Ninsuna implies not only a ritual purification but also appropriate and suitable dress and jewelry. Far from being a superficial consideration, it is deeply rooted in the efficacy of the ritual procedure. Conclusion If a garment and the way to wear it belong to non-verbal communication between women and men, we should be attentive when the codes are not followed, especially in ritual contexts. Garments and accessories—jewelry and make-up—may be employed to dissimulate or modify the identity or the social rank of the wearer� This is what happens in the story of Adapa: following the advice of the great god Ea, Adapa disguises himself in a mourner to mislead the gods Dumuzi and Geštinanna�26 In a poem of the 1st millennium BC—but the style suggests a desire of the writer to make the text look much older—all the powers of the goddess Ištar are described. She is responsible for both harmony and hostility in human relationships; she is the one who governs the wide realm of pleasures, etc. The second part of the text sounds a little bit strange as the hymnic language is dropped for a description of what may seem to be a ritual procedure from a satirical perspective� 1

šu-ba-al-ku-ut-ma ši-ip-ru šu-uš-nu-u2 pa-nu-šu 2na-mu-ti-iš-ki an-nu anna-šu tu-ur-ki Ištar2 3na-ah-la-pa-ti pu-ur-sa-si tu-še-eš-me zi-ik-ri 4mu-ta i-la-ap-ta si-in-ni-ša-tu pi-ri-te ka3-ad-ra-ma 5na-ši-ma zi-ik-ru ki-iš-šinam-ma qa2-ti-iš-šu 6si-ni-iš-tum ki zi-ik-ri ša-ak-na-at uš-pa-ta-am tuki!(DI)-a-al qa2-aš-ta 7ki-ri-is-sa3-am si-ib-tam uh3-la ti-ib-ba na-ši zi-ikru 8ti-il-pa-na-ti as-pi as-su-uk-ki si-in-ne2-ša-tu na-ši-a 9ṣa-bi-it-su-ma zi-ik-ru ti4-il-ši-in šu-˹uš˺-nu pa-nu-šu 10ša-ak-na-as-sum2-ma ṣi-ib-nu i-na ki-di ba-u2 i+na-aš-ši qa2-as-su 11u3 si-ni-iš-tum ki zi-ik-ri lu-bu-uš-ta-ša ka3-ad-ra-at-ma (…) 17 ša-ni-a-at ar-ka-as-su-nu ši-pi2-ir-šu-nu nu-uk-ku-ur 18u2-ki-al-lu pi2-laak-ki i-na uz-zi li-li i-du?-u2 ku!-a-ti 19en-du za-ap-pi2 zi-ik-ru si-ni-iš-te-eš li-bi-is-su-nu bu-ur-ru-um 20ap-ru ba-ar-mu-ti-im-ma ki u2-du-ši-iš ar-hišam? ˹ša?˺-ru-ru!-{ma?}-ki

26

Foster, B. R. 2005: 525–530.

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“Task reversed, he looks quite different! Yes to your mockery, shiver at that “Yes” O Ištar! You made men obedient with clothes and locks of hair, O Ištar! The women are touching (in an inappropriate manner), a splendid young man, they are bold with their hair! A man carries a salad-leaf in his hand A woman has a quiver like a man, she’s holding a bow, A man carries a hairpin, a mussel shell27, kindling, and a girl’s harp (timbu’u), Women carry throw sticks, slingshots, and slingstones, A man holds their gear for them he looks quite different! The reed enclosure is set up for him they go around outside it, he signals with his hand� Then a woman, dressed like a man, was making a bold move� (…) Their backsides are peculiar, what they do is bizarre, They hold spindles, they circle(?) you with demonic desire The men wear hair combs, their clothes are multicolored (bu-ur-ru-um) as a woman’s, They wear multicolored (ba-ar-mu-ti-im-ma) hats, and as if renewing every month…” (Ištar-Louvre ii, l�1–11 and l�17–20; modif� transl� Foster, 2005: 284)�

Part of the scene takes place near a reed enclosure, perhaps evoking a wedding ceremony, which is compared to fictive burials. At the very end of the tablet alcohol consumption seems to be suggested, explaining the general modification state of consciousness of all the participants.28 Several protagonists are here present: a group of men carrying female objects, and a group of women holding weapons, usually male attribute� Putting on a woman’s garment does not necessarily imply an inversion of gender. In the epic of Gilgameš Šamhat wears two pieces of cloth; she gives one of them to cover Enkidu before entering together into Uruk.29 And this episode does not question his manliness. In the situation described above, the garment has to be understood in the general framework of nonverbal gestures�

27 28

29

Cf� Groneberg, 1997: 46, n� 101� For the use of substances to modify the state of consciousness in ritual contexts, especially in the Ancient Near East, see Stein, 2017� 1-en lu-bu-šu2 r[a-man-ša2…] / u3 ša2-na-a lu-bu-šu2 ša2-˹a˺-[šu2 u2-lab-biš] “The first garment, [she put on herself], and with the second garment [she clothed] him” (Gilgameš II, l. 34-35, George 2003: 560).

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Two individuals—male and female—are identified in the second part of the scene. “Dressed like a man,” as the text says, a woman acts here in an inappropriate manner, sexually harassing a poor and lonely man. The group of men at the end are wearing clothes that would normally be attributed to women: the men wear hair combs, their clothes are multicolored (bu-ur-ru-um) like a woman’s, they wear multicolored (baar-mu-ti-im-ma) hats� By mentioning this peculiar color designated by the term burrumu “multicolored”, the text may be referring to a ritual piece of textile worn by women in contemporary rituals. Here is what we find in a mythological explanatory work of the Neo-Assyrian period: [dbe-let bābi]liki ša SIG 2 GE 6 ina ku-tal-li-ša2-ni š[a2-ni x x x x x x]

sig2

tab-ri-bu ina pa-ni-

“[The Lady of] Babylon on whose back is black wool, and on her front multi-colored wool” (Marduk’s Ordeal, l� 8; Livingstone, 1986: 208)�

Worn here by men, such multicolored clothing can no longer refer to ritual purposes. In this satirical composition the teasing is based on the transgression of clothing norms and goes far beyond a simple costume� The man becomes as vulnerable as the woman in daily life and cannot resist this aggressiveness� In Akkadian literature, mentioning a garment is never a simple detail that only reinforces the narrative background. Textile belongs to the large theme of non-verbal communication, and in that way it plays an important role in the social dialogue between women and men� Whereas men use their clothes to express their seductiveness, women play with different pieces of textile to veil, unveil, or dissimulate their body, sometimes showing their adorned nudity� A complete lack of cloth or jewelry symbolizes vulnerable nakedness for the woman, and social poverty for the man. In a literary context, garments help to play with the ambiguity of some situations, to which they participate by giving a concrete and tangible reality�

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Bibliography Annus, A� / Lenzi, A�, 2010: Ludlul bēl nēmeqi, The Standard Babylonian Poem of the Righteous Sufferer, State Archives of Assyria Cuneiform Texts 7, The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, Helsinki. Aruz, J� (ed�), 2003: Art of the First Cities, The Third Millennium B.C. from the Mediterranean to the Indus, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New-York� Barthes, R., 1957: “Histoire et sociologie du vêtement. Quelques observations méthodologiques”. Annales. Économie, Sociétés, Civilisations 3, 430–441� Bauer, T�, 1933: Das Inschriftenwerk Assurbanipals, J� C� Hinrichs, Leipzig� Cifarelli, M� / Gawlinski, L� (eds�), 2017: What Shall I say of Clothes? Theoretical and Methodological Approaches to the Study of Dress in Antiquity, Archaeological Institute of America, Boston MA. Donnat, S. / Hunziker, R. / Weygand, I. (eds.), 2018: Les figurines féminines nues, collection Études d’archéologie et d’histoire ancienne de l’université de Strasbourg, De Boccard, Paris. Farber, W�, 2014: Lamaštu. An Edition of the Canonical Series of Lamaštu Incantations and Rituals and Related Texts from the Second and First Millennia B�C� Mesopotamian Civilizations 17, Eisenbrauns: Winona Lake� Finet, A., 1969: “Les symboles du cheveu, du bord du vêtement et de l’ongle en Mésopotamie”. Annales du Centre d’Étude des Religions 3, 101–130� Foster, B. R., 2005: Before the Muses, an Anthology of Akkadian Literature� CDL Press, Bethesda. Geller, M� J�, 2016: Healing Magic and Evil Demons, Die Babylonisch-Assyrische Medizin in Texten Und Untersuchungen 8, Walter De Gruyter, Boston – Berlin� George, A�, 2003: The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic, Introduction, Critical Edition, and Cuneiform Texts. Oxford University Press, Oxford. Groneberg, B�, 1997: Lob der Istar: Gebet und Ritual an die altbabylonische Venusgöttin, Tanatti Ištar, Cuneiform Monographs 8, Styx Publications, Groningen� Kämmerer, T. R. / Metzler, K. A., 2012: Das babylonische Weltschopfungsepos, Alter Orient und Altes Testament 375, Ugarit-Verlag, Münster. Lambert, W� G�, 2013: Babylonian Creation Myths, Mesopotamian Civilizations 16, Eisenbrauns, Winona Lake� Lackenbacher, S�, 1971: “Notes sur l’Ardat-Lili”, Revue d’Assyriologie et d’Archéologie Orientale 65, 119–154� Lapinkivi, P., 2010: The Neo-Assyrian Myths of Ištar’s Descent and Resurrection, State Archives of Assyria Cuneiform Texts 6, The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, Helsinki. Livingstone, A�, 1986: Mystical and Mythological Explanatory Works of Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars, Clarendon Press, Oxford–New York.

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Neumann, K., 2017: “Gods Among Men: Fashioning the Divine Image in Assyria”. In M. Cifarelli / L. Gawlinski (eds.): What Shall I say of Clothes? Theoretical and Methodological Approaches to the Study of Dress in Antiquity� Archaeological Institute of America. Boston. Pp. 4–23. Reiner, E., 1957. “Le Char de Ninurta et le prologue du Muthe de Zû”. Revue d’Assyriologie et d’Archéologie Orientale 51, 107–110� Stein, D., 2017: “The Role of Stimulants in Early Near Eastern Society: Insights through Artifacts and Texts”. In Y. Heffron / A. Stone / M. Worthington (eds�), At the Dawn of History, Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honor of J. N. Postgate volume 1. Eisenbrauns. Winona Lake. Pp. 507–533. Steinert, U., 2012: Aspekte des Menschseins im Alten Mesopotamien : eine Studie zu Person und Identität im 2. und 1. Jt v. Chr�, Cuneiform Monographs 44, Brill, Leiden–Boston� Stol, M�, 1993: Epilepsy in Babylonia. Cuneiform Monographs 2. Styx Publications, Groningen�

Abbreviation CAD = The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, Chicago: 1956ss� eTCSL = the Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature, http://etcsl�orinst� ox.ac.uk/

What to Wear? Dress-codes in Ancient Greek Sanctuaries Cecilie Brøns In Antiquity, one’s choice of dress was as important—if not more important—as today, since we at all times, from when we are born until we die, express who we are through our clothing and identify ourselves and others by our dress� Different aspects of identity such as gender, age, ethnicity, and social status are expressed via one’s clothing. Dress is therefore essential to social action and interaction and plays a central role in how we socialise with each other—although we are not always conscious of the functions and meanings of dress�1 The choice of a specific garment type, its colours, fibres, decoration, the way it was draped on the body, and not least accessories such as footwear jewellery, headgear, and coiffure, all contribute to the total display and representation of one’s identity� There appears to have been dress-codes for what to wear; for example as a child, a young unmarried girl, a married woman, or an adult man�2 Such dress codes existed not only in secular life, but also in the religious life of ancient Mediterranean societies, and it seems that dress played an important part in rituals and the religious experience. Even today, there are more or less unwritten rules for what we wear and when: for example, attending church or synagogue, participating in other ritual events� As an example, it is frowned upon to wear white or black to a Christian wedding, while black is traditionally the norm at funerals� Women may wear hats to church, but not men. In the synagogue men must cover their head with a kippa. And, in general, one is expected to dress modestly when visiting for example a church, synagogue, or mosque. Many modern dress codes

1 2

Lee, 2015: 198� See, e�g�, Lee, 2015: chapter 7�

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deal with colour and headgear as well as modesty� However, these dress codes are rarely explicitly formulated, but we all know them all the same. There also appears to have been specific dress-codes in some of the ancient Greek sanctuaries, and there were rules for what you could or could not wear when visiting a sanctuary� This article will focus on these regulations and dress-codes and their significance for the ancient religious experience. Ancient Greek dress Due to the lack of textile finds—at least of entire garments—from Greece, the reconstruction and interpretation of Greek dress is based on the juxtaposition of three primary sources: epigraphy, literary sources, and iconographic depictions� These three media serve different purposes and offer different data. Images of dress provide information where written and archaeological evidence have gaps: only from images can we reconstruct how clothing items might have been assembled, draped, and worn on the body, and how they were combined with particular accessories�3 Inscriptions, on the other hand, mention garments or other textile terms that we cannot identify in the archaeological or iconographic record� Yet, as M� Harlow and M�-L� Nosch argue, it is often not clear to the modern reader what type of garment is being described or mentioned in the written sources, or why rectangular garments with essentially the same shape and function should have different names� A question thus arises as to whether these terms refer to the way in which the garment is worn, the material from which it was made, its decoration, the wearer’s identity, or perhaps a combination of these elements�4 The nomenclature of ancient Greek dress is, moreover, far from secure, although the names of ancient garments are rarely questioned� As Lee has already argued, it may be impossible and perhaps even undesirable to create a new system of dress terminology, but it is still important to note that many words for ancient Greek garments have been erroneously identified and that we use many of these terms with false authority since their use is a product of scholarship, not ancient Greek nomenclature�5 Another problem that becomes evident when juxtaposing written sources and iconography is

3 4 5

Harlow & Nosch, 2014: 8, 11� Harlow & Nosch 2014: 9� Lee 2004: 221, 224�

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that the depictions of dress often appear fairly standardised and represent limited modes of dress, whereas written sources reflect a much more varied garment terminology�6 The relatively few garment types depicted in iconography appear to have caused the common perception that Greek dress consisted primarily of the chitōn, peplos, and himation (Fig� 1)� The chitōniskos, the chitōnion and the chitōn probably reflect three sizes of the same type of garment� The chitōn is generally understood as a fulllength, sleeved garment, usually worn with a belt and consisting of one or two pieces of textile sewn together to make a tube. Sleeves were created either by adding buttons or dress-fasteners along the top edge of the garment or by sewing� The chitōniskos was a shortened version of the chitōn�7 The peplos is conventionally identified as a rectangular piece of (woollen) cloth draped around the body and fastened at the shoulders by pins or fibulas. The open vertical edge is sometimes sewn together, but is usually left open, while the top part of the garment could be folded to create an over-fold� The garment could be belted at the waist�8 These garments were often worn with mantles, of which the most common type is the himation, worn by men and women alike�9 However, the term himation—in its plural form himatia—also became a general Greek term for clothing, one that increasingly came to mean ‘a large and voluminous oblong cloth diagonally draped across the torso, wrapped around the body, supported on one shoulder or arm’�10 These are indeed the most common terms recorded in literary sources, and there is no doubt that these garment types were worn by the ancient Greeks, although there were doubtlessly far many more garment types available. This variation is reflected in the source material on ritual dress-codes� Clothing regulations Inscriptions detailing clothing regulations for visitors have been found at a number of Greek sanctuaries. It appears from the inscriptions that ‘visitors’ meant anyone who wished to enter the temple or the entire temenos of a deity, or to participate in a cultic procession� Often nothing

6 7 8 9 10

Harlow & Nosch 2014: 12� For the chitōn, see Lee, 2015: 106–110� For the chitōniskos, see Lee, 2015: 110–111� For the peplos, see Lee, 2015: 100–106� For the himation, see Lee, 2015: 113–116� Cleland et al�, 2007: 92�

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certain can be said of exactly when they were written and by whom, or their exact context, i.e. where they were placed in the sanctuary.11 Such inscriptions detailing clothing regulations have been recovered in sanctuaries in various geographical areas, e.g. Boeotia, the Peloponnese, Arcadia, Delos, Rhodes, and Asia Minor (Fig. 2). These regulations, which were usually inscribed on stone stelai and probably placed at the entrance to the temenos or perhaps on the walls of the temple itself,12 range in date from about the 6th century BCE to the 3rd century CE�13 First, it should be noted that regulations concerned with clothing and other forms of adornment constitute only a small portion of the preserved inscriptions relating to ancient Greek cults. Regulation in the form of such inscriptions may have been the exception rather than the rule and their scarcity seems to indicate that the majority of sanctuaries did not require regulation of dress�14 A further obstacle is that the inscriptions derive from a wide range of geographical areas and time periods�15 These regulations include provisions for the cleanliness, fabric, colour, type, and decoration of the clothing, as well as the wearing of certain accessories in the sanctuaries�16 Hence, they are an important source of information on ritual dress and the appearance of people visiting these sanctuaries� The majority of the regulations contain prohibitions rather than injunctions, meaning that they often specify what visitors were not allowed to wear, rather than what they should wear�17 The clothing regulations included here concern sanctuaries for different deities (Fig� 2): ‘The Great Goddess’ (Andania); Demeter and Despoina (Lycosoura Arcadia); Demeter (Patras, Andania, Chios); Athena (Lindos - Rhodes); Pan and the nymphs (Attica); Trophonios (Lebadaia - Boeotia); Asklepios (Epidauros, Pergamon); Dionysos (Smyrna); Zeus and Athena (Delos); the Egyptian divinities (Delos); and Leto (Lycia). In most cases the

11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Gawlinski, 2011: 2� Petrovic & Petrovic, 2006: 175. Mills, 1984: 257� Cleland, 2002: 25� Brøns, 2016: 325� Mills, 1984: 257� Brøns, 2016: 325�

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regulations are associated with cults of female deities, especially Demeter (Patras, Andania, Lycosoura, Chios).18 The material is divided into two main groups: prescriptive regulations primarily regarding white or clean clothing, and proscriptive regulations� The very complex regulations for the mysteries of Andania are prescriptive as well as proscriptive and will therefore be discussed separately� The Sacred Law of Andania An inscription connected with the mystery cult of the Great Goddess at Andania on the Peloponnese provides detailed clothing regulations for all entering the sanctuary�19 The festival is mentioned by Pausanias (4.33.5), who relates that this festival was second in sanctity only to the Eleusinian Mysteries, yet it is otherwise unknown from literature� The location of the mysteries has yet to be identified archaeologically.20 The inscription, which dates to 92/1 BCE, is the longest and most detailed religious regulation in existence.21 The main part of the clothing regulations is concerned with the priests and priestesses� The inscription describes the type of clothing that the priests and priestesses, male initiates, female initiates and their daughters and slaves had to wear in the cult ceremonies (table 1, below)� 22 According to the inscription, the individuals in charge of the mysteries should wear a purple headband during the ritual� The adult priestesses were required to wear a kalasīris23 or a hypodyma24 and a himation, in total worth no more than two minas� They were also stipulated to wear a white felt cap (pilon)� Girls were required to wear a kalasīris and a himation, in total worth no more than 100 drachmas, i�e�, half the price of the priestesses’ garment� During the procession the priestesses should wear a hypodyma and a woollen himation with stripes no more than half a

18 19 20 21 22 23

24

Brøns, 2016: 327� The sacred law of Andania IG V, 1, 1390; LSCG 65� Brøns, 2016: 328� For a detailed study and translation of this inscription, see Gawlinski, 2011� Brøns, 2016: 328� The kalasīris was a long, fringed garment of Egyptian or Persian origin. The garment is described by Herodotos (2�81) as a linen chitōn adorned with tassels or fringes worn by Egyptians� Dillon, 1997: 197; Cleland et al�, 2007: 101� A type of tunic or undergarment� Cleland et al�, 2007: 94�

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finger wide, and the girls had to wear a kalasīris and a himation that was not transparent� In contrast, the only specification of dress and clothing for the priests, is that they should wear a wreath� The only clothing regulations for male initiates at Andania were that they should be dressed in white and go barefoot� The regulations are therefore often characterised as being concerned only with women, but it is noteworthy that male participants are also subject to regulation, although these are less detailed� The prohibition on wide stripes for female garments (priestesses as well as initiated women) is interesting since it indicates that wide stripes were ostentatious and unsuitable for both an initiate and a priestess� Even though the priestesses had a wider choice of inner garments than other adult women, they were still not allowed much decoration� This even applied to the pillows and cushions, which the women were allowed to sit on: according to the inscription these could not have coloured borders nor purple colour. This probably reflect a restriction on the costliness of the garments and textiles worn and used by these women, since garments with abundant decoration and/or purple colour would be more expensive than garments without decoration� This is supported by the stipulation of maximum prices for the himatia: Women being initiated had to wear a linen chitōn and a himation worth no more than 100 drachmas, while their daughters/girls were to wear a kalasīris, or a sindonitēs,25 and a himation worth no more than 1 mina� The same provisions applied to female slaves, but in this case the value was reduced to 50 drachmas� Moreover, it is specified that no women were allowed to wear make-up, hair bands, or shoes (unless they are of felt or sacrificial leather), again stressing the prohibition on ostentations or luxurious items. But what was the punishment for transgressing these prohibitions? The inscription specifically state: “If anyone otherwise has clothing contrary to the diagramma, or if anyone has something else that is prohibited, the gynaikonomos26 must not allow the item and is to have the right to have it mutilated, and it must become the property of the gods�”27 This is significant,

25

26 27

The sindonitēs are usually interpreted as a garment of fine cloth commonly defined as linen (sindōn = fine cloth linen). Given the similarity to the Babylonian fibre term sindhu, however, it is also possible that sindōn referred to cotton� LSJ s.v. sindōn� Cleland et al� 2007: 171� LSJ s.v. gynaikonomos: Supervisor of women� Translation: Gawlinski, 2011�

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since it could indicate the existence of some sort of “fashion police”, who controlled the behaviour of the participants in the cult, making sure that people in the sanctuary followed the dress-codes stipulated in the inscription� Wearer Hieroi Hierai The recently initiated Initiated men (initiated women)

Gender M F

Garment type

M

White clothing

F

No transparent clothes

Free adult women

F

Linen chitōn and a himation

Girls

F

Female slaves

F

Hierai (adults)

F

Girls

F

Kalasēris or a sindonitēs and a himation Kalasēris or a sindonitēs and a himation Kalasēris or a an undergarment and a himation Kalasēris and a himation

Hierai (adults)

F

Girls

F

All women

F

Decoration

Max price

Other Wreath White felt cap Tiara wreath of laurel Barefoot

Stripes max. half a finger wide (himation) Max. 100 drachmas (himation) Max. 1 mina (himation)

No coloured border (himation)

Max. 50 drachmas (himation) Max. 2 minas (himation) Max. 100 drachmas (himation)

Undergarment and Stripes max. a woollen woman’s half a finger wide himation (himation) Kalasēris and a himation that is not transparent No gold, rouge, make-up, hair band, pleated hair� No shoes unless of sacrifical leather or felt

Table 1� The clothing regulations of the cult at Andania (after Brøns, 2016, pl�33)�

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Prescriptive clothing regulations in sanctuaries The prescriptive clothing regulations only include six examples, ranging in date from the 3rd century BCE to the 3rd century CE and originate from Epidauros, Delos, Chios, Rhodes, Priene, and Pergamon.28 The earliest example is the hymn of Isyllos to Asklepios which is preserved in an inscription erected at Epidauros in 280 BCE�29 The inscription states that participants in the procession in honour of Apollo and Asklepios leading to the Temple of Apollo should wear white garments and a laurel wreath: “(…) proclaim to these men that they are to march in a processions for lord Apollo and his son Asclepios the healer with their hair down (or long) and in white garments and wearing crowns of laurel march purified to the temple of Apollo”�30

Another clothing regulation from the 3rd century BCE concerns a phratry or family cult at Priene.31 The text is extremely fragmentary and is thought to refer to the cult of a goddess� According to the inscription, a person by the name Anaxideros obtained the priesthood or sacrifice and was required to wear white clothing: “Anaxideros son of Apollonios obtained the priesthood sacrifice as his portion� Go pure into the sanctuary in white clothing�”32

An inscription, probably dating to ca� 116/5 BCE,33 records the regulations for entering the Sanctuary of Zeus Kynthios and Athena Kynthia at Delos� It states that visitors to the sanctuary should wear white clothing and no shoes or belt: “Having become priest of Zeus Kynthios and Athena Kynthia in the year when [Sarapi?]_n was archon, when Nikephoros was attendant of the temple ���, instead of the damaged stele he wrote down the edict according to the command: Enter the sanctuary of Zeus Kynthios and Athena Kynthia with pure hands and soul, wearing a white garment, barefooted, pure from women and meat, and do not carry anything ����� neither a key, nor a ring

28 29 30 31 32 33

Brøns, 2016: 325� Hymn of Isyllos. IG IV2, 1, 128; SEG 46:375, lines 17–19� Translation: Austino, 2012� Alexandreion, Priene LSAM 35; IPr no� 205� Translation: Cleland, 2003� Zeus Kynthios and Athena Kynthia, Delos LSCGS 59; ID 2529�

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of iron, nor a belt, nor a purse, nor weapons of war and do not do anything else that is forbidden���”34

The three remaining examples are all from the Roman period. One is a stele recovered at the Sanctuary of Athena Lindia on Rhodes.35 It stipulates that the sanctuary visitor must wear clean clothes, not bound by a belt/girdle, must not wear any headdress, and must be either barefoot or wearing white shoes that were not made of goat leather� The demand for clean clothes could indicate that the clothes should be not only freshly washed but also white:36 “It is religiously permitted to enter cleansed and purified inside the lustral basin and the [gates] of the temple, refraining from looking (?), children – purified not only with regard to the body, but also to the soul from everything that is polluted, impure and unlawful, without carrying martial weapons, with clean clothing, without headdress, barefooted or wearing white shoes not made of goatskin, carrying nothing of goatskin, nor knots in the belts�”37

An inscription from Chios, dating to the 1st century CE, requires that a participant in the rituals shall be barefoot and wear clean clothes and no gold:38 “… and for those who appease a man must serve the goddess in the temple: all who take part with the kalathos [shall be] barefoot and in clean clothes and the gold placed in the temple: for frippery is hateful from those you are addressed by”39

An inscription from Pergamon, dating to the 3rd century CE, declares that visitors to the Sanctuary of Asklepios are required to wear white clothing and a wreath of olive�40 Furthermore, visitors are not allowed to wear a ring, a belt/girdle, anything of gold, or to bind up their hair, and they must go barefoot:

34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Translation: Rostad, 2006. Athena Lindia, Rhodes. LSCGS 91; Blinkenberg, 1941, no� 487� Blinkenberg, 1941: 871-878� Translation: Rostad, 2006; Cleland, 2003. Demeter, Chios� LSAM 6� Translation: Cleland, 2003� Asklepios, Pergamon LSAM 14; SEG 4:681�

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“�� with a white cockerel, and brimstone and torch � � �� � � having wrapped in muslin let him purify completely � � � let him proceed to the god, the Saviour Asklepios into the big enkoimeterion anyone who wishes to sleep in the temple, in white clothing, crowned with pure wreaths of olive, having neither ring, nor girdle, nor gold nor bound up hair, barefoot - - - -“41

The inscription from Andania discussed above also requires men to go barefoot and to wear white clothing� Moreover, even though it is not a clothing regulation per se, a decree of 108/7 BCE from the Acropolis of Athens should be included since it records the white garments of the Arrēphoroi, aristocratic girls, who were chosen to serve in the cult of Athena and were involved in the production of her peplos�42 Not just visitors, but also priests and priestesses as well as other ritual personnel are required to wear certain clothing in the sanctuaries, and often it is stipulated that the clothing should be white. For example, an inscription from the 3rd century BCE from Pergamon states that the priests of Zeus wore a white chlamys and a wreath with a purple ribbon�43 Another inscription from the 3rd century BCE erected at the entrance to the Alexandreion at Priene records: “ “Anaxidemos, son of Apollonios, received the priesthood to enter the holy temple in white clothing�”44

A decree dating to ca� 100 BCE from Demetrias at Magnesia concerning the oracular sanctuary of Apollo at Korope stipulates that the priest of Apollo Koropaios and other ritual personnel should all wear white:45 “Those named should sit properly in the temple, in white robes, ornamented with laurel wreaths, in (cult) purity and sober�”46

There is also evidence the requirement of white attire for priestesses: Thus, an honorary decree from Thasos dating to the 1st century BCE,

41 42

43 44 45 46

Translation: Cleland, 2003� IG II2 1036� The inscription is one of a small group of Athenian inscriptions dated to ca� 100 BC that are concerned with the production of the peplos for Athena and its presentation on the Acropolis� LSAM 11; SIG3 1018� LSAM 35; Hiller von Gaertringen, 1906, no� 205 LSCG 83/84; Lupu, 2009: 10� Translation: Stavrianopoulou, 2006: 14�

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states that the priestess Epie must wear white clothes as custom dictates when performing religious rites in the cult of Demeter�47 White clothing The prescriptive clothing regulations demonstrate that the most important thing to emphasise was the colour of the garments� Apparently, the type of garment, its material, quality or fibre was not equally significant. In some instances the regulations prescribe only white clothing, while in others this is only one requirement among several� Thus, some regulations are often not simply prescriptive, but also proscriptive, prohibiting for example, belts, gold, or headdress� Some of the regulations not only prescribe white clothing but also require that sanctuary visitors wear a wreath or go barefoot� This requirement to wear white can in fact also be viewed as an implicit ban against coloured garments�48 There are several literary sources that confirm the prescription for white clothing in specific sanctuaries. These sources span a broad period from around the 5th century BCE until the late Roman period. Among the earliest literary sources to white clothing as appropriate cultic attire is a fragment of the lost play The Cretans by Euripides (fr� 475) (ca� 480406 BCE). It describes how initiates of the Greek deity Zagreus wore white garments� Similarly, the Athenian orator Aeschines (In Ctes� 77) (390–314 BCE), whose speeches indicate that wearing white garments in sanctuaries was a common practice: “And though it was but the seventh day after the death of his daughter, and though the ceremonies of mourning were not yet completed, he put a garland on his head and white raiment on his body, and there he stood making thank-offerings, violating all decency”�49

This indicates that white garments must have had specific ritual connotations and were considered inappropriate for mourning� The requirement of white garments is also indicated by Plato (Leg. 12, 956a�), who writes: “For woven stuff and other materials, white will be a colour befitting the gods; but dyes they must not employ, save only for military decorations�”50 Tertullian (de Pallio 4�10) (ca� 155-220 CE) reports that the

47 48 49 50

SEG 18:343� Brøns, 2016: 331� Translation: Adams, 1919� Translation: Bury, 1967 & 1968�

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initiates of Ceres wear entirely white clothing and according to Athenaeus (Deipn. 149D-E), at the Panegyris of Apollo Komaios in Naukratis participants were to wear white garments� Furthermore, the testimony of the apocryphal Acts of John in the Bible tells of how John upset the crowd by entering the Artemision wearing black clothes, while the worshippers were all wearing white�51 Among the latest examples is Diogenes Laertius (8.1.19) (3rd century CE) who reports that Pythagoras’ prescription for ritual purity included white clothing. A final example is Apuleius (Met. 11�10�) (125–180 CE) who writes that the initiates of Isis wear linen clothes, which indicates that these garments were possibly white since flax does not take dyes well. These written testimonies illustrate that the requirement for white garments when visiting a sanctuary was not a restriction demanded by certain deities nor a custom only practiced in a specific geographical are or time period, but a more general ritual custom, observed in several places in the ancient Greek world� It has been proposed that white clothing emphasised the ritual purity of the worshipper�52 Obviously white clothing is delicate and easily shows dirt and stains, thus strengthening its association with cleanliness�53 Proscriptive clothing regulations in sanctuaries There are more proscriptive than prescriptive regulations surrounding clothes and adornment in sanctuaries�54 The earliest example of a proscriptive inscription is a bronze plaque from the 6th century BCE, probably from northern Arcadia, which is inscribed with regulations regarding the cult of Demeter Thesmophoros:55 “If a woman wears a brightly coloured robe, it is to be consecrated to Demeter Thesmophoros”�56 The cult of the chthonic goddess Despoina at Lycosoura, Arcadia, also had specific clothing regulations. An inscription dating to the 3rd century BCE was recovered in the sanctuary, which states that gold objects

51 52 53 54

55 56

John 38� Kleijwegt, 2002: 122� Dillon, 1997: 199� Brøns, 2016: 332� There are also several proscriptive regulations concerning footwear, headgear, fibres and leather, and metals� However, these are not included here� See instead Brøns, 2016: 336-342� Demeter Thesmophoros, Arcadia LSCGS 32; SEG 11:1112� Translation: Mills, 1984�

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and flower-coloured or black clothing were not permitted, unless for dedication:57 “Let it not be permissible for those to pass in who are bringing into the sanctuary of Despoina Any gold objects which are not intended for dedication Neither purple nor flower coloured or black clothing nor sandals nor a ring. If anyone does enter with any of these things which the stele prohibits, Let him dedicate it in the sanctuary�”58

A regulation from the 3rd century BCE connected with the cult of Demeter near Patras states that “women may not (...) wear a brightly coloured garment or purple garment (porphyrean) (���)”�59 Moreover, women are not permitted to wear gold ornaments worth more than one obol� An inscription recovered at the entrance of the Letoon at Xanthos, Lycia, Anatolia, dating to the end of the 3rd or the beginning of the 2nd century BCE, states that persons entering the sanctuary are forbidden to wear a petasos (a broad-brimmed hat), a kausia (essentially the Macedonian ethnic traditional headgear), a porpē (dress-fastener), or any object made of brass or gold�60 The inscription specifies that all clothes worn in the sanctuary must not have clasps, and that only a minimal outfit consisting of a simple garment and shoes is allowed: “Things which is not customary to carry into the sanctuary and precinct: no weapon, petasos, kausia, dress-fastener, copper (objects), gold (objects), nor gold-plated rings and any equipment at all except for clothes and footwear (worn) around one’s body”61

A couple of inscriptions from Delos include clothing regulations for entering temples, especially the Serapeion� Thus, an inscription dating to the 2nd century BCE states that visitors are not allowed to wear woollen garments in the sanctuary for the Egyptian divinities:62 “A woman shall not come near [i.e. enter the temple/temenos] Nor shall a man [dressed] in wool

57 58 59 60 61 62

Despoina, Arcadia� IG V, 2, 514; LSCG 68; SEG 35:354� Translation: Loucas & Loucas, 1994 (adapted from Horsley, 1979)� Demeter, Patras. LSCGS 33� Translation: Cleland, 2003� Leto, Xanthos� SEG 36:1221� Translation: Lupu 2006� Egyptian divinities, Delos ID 2180; LSCGS 56, lines 1–8�

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According to ordinance�”

Another inscription from the 2nd century BCE, found in the Serapeion and also relating to the Egyptian divinities, states that wearing bright-coloured garments is not permitted�63 A marble stele, dated to 61/60 BCE, with a dedication to Pan and the nymphs from the eastern entrance to the Cave of Pan at Marathon bears a prohibition against visitors wearing coloured or dyed garments: 64 “In the archonship of Theophēmos, the fellow ephebes Pythagoras and Sosikratēs and Lysandros dedicated [this stele] to Pan and the Nymphs. The god forbids to carry in either coloured (garment) or dyed (garment) or [- -]�”65

An inscription from Smyrna, dating to the 2nd century CE, states that visitors are not allowed to approach the altar wearing black clothing in the Sanctuary of Dionysos Bromios:66 “No one wearing black clothes may approach the altar of the king nor lay hands on things not sacrificed from sacrificial animals nor place an egg as food at the Bacchic feast”�67

Finally, an inscription from the Lydian city of Tlos, of unknown date and associated with an unknown cult, records that flowery clothing and transvestism is forbidden:68 “… having flower-coloured clothing, others may not gather together, nor …� not one of these in women’s clothes� And if anyone should transgress and go into the sanctuary, he must pay each day - - -“�69

Dyed and decorated clothing These regulations do not appear to be concerned with garment types, which suggests that this was not of outmost importance in the sanctuaries� Thus, only the inscription from Andania requires specific garment types

63 64 65 66 67 68 69

Egyptian divinities, Delos� IG XI, 4 1300, LSCG 94, lines 1–2� Pan and the nymphs, Attica SEG 36:267� Translation: Lupu, 2006� Dionysos Bromios, Smyrna LSAM 84; AGRW 195; ISmyrna 728� Translation: Rostad, 2006. Unknown deity, Tlos, Lydia LSAM 77; CIG Add� 435; SEG 6:775� Translation: Cleland, 2003�

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for women. There are no prohibitions of specific garments. However, belts/girdles are prohibited in a few sanctuaries and the inscription from Xanthos, Lydia prohibits wearing specific headgear, including the petasos and the kausia�70 Nor does these regulations appear to be particularly concerned with choice of materials and fibres. Only an inscription from Delos, prohibits woollen garments in the sanctuary�71 Rather, these regulations appear to be aimed at prohibiting coloured garments—either in general, sometimes emphasising the colour purple or, in one instance, black (melas) and flowery (anthinos)� Yet, it is noteworthy that some literary sources provide evidence to the contrary. An example is Aristophanes (Lys. 645), who relates how the young girls wore saffron-coloured garments (krokotoi) during the cultic rituals taking place at the sanctuary of Artemis Brauronia, Attica� However, this example is unique due to its emphasis on yellow garments, which appears to have been exclusive to the cult of Artemis Brauronia. Moreover, these girls were special ritual agents and not ‘ordinary’ visitors to the sanctuary, which would explain their extraordinary garments. Another example is the orator Polemon (Phgn. 68) (2nd century BCE), according to whom the women whom he saw in the Artemision of Perge had their heads covered and wore purple and white dresses as well as rich jewellery. In the latter case, however, it is impossible to be certain if this was a requirement for attending the cult. Perhaps this was rather emphasised by the author, precisely because it was unusual or uncommon� One final literary source, which illustrates the importance of the colours of ritual clothing, involves the chthonic god Trophonios who was venerated at an underground sanctuary at Lebadeia in Boeotia� The Greek philosopher Maximus of Tyre (XIV, 2) (2nd century BCE) informs us that those who wished to consult the divine power should wear “a robe, reaching to his feet and a purple mantle (phoinikis)”, indicating that purple was the appropriate colour to be worn when visiting the oracle. In contrast, the Greek writer Philostratos (V. A� §19) (ca� 170-250 CE) states that the garments of visitors were required to be white� These contrasting testimonies could be interpreted as evidence that the ritual clothing for initiates changed over time from a purple to a white garment, or perhaps different dress-codes applied to different people�

70 71

LSCGS 59 (Delos); LSCGS 91 (Rhodes); LSAM 14 (Pergamon). ID 2180; LSCGS 56, lines 1-8�

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From the 2nd century BCE to the 2nd century CE, then, regulations prohibited extravagant clothing in particular, such as decorated and colourful garments. The specification of colour is not surprising since colours signified value because their application involved work and time and potentially very expensive dyes such as shell-fish purple. These regulations could therefore be viewed as a reflection of a requirement of modesty and simplicity, as is expressed elsewhere in the price limits for the garments worn by visitors� The directives on the clothing and general appearance of people visiting the sanctuaries indicate that not only was there a concern with particularly women appearing modest, but also with the cost of their attire and how their costume signalled different levels of status�72 The sacred law from Andania also proscribes diaphanous garments, which is usually understood as an expression of transparent clothing being considered as promiscuous�73 Alternatively (or additionally), this could express another restriction placed on luxury, since see-through garments would imply a very fine—and thus expensive—quality. It thus appears that these regulations were aimed at restricting the display of status expressed through dress and adornment among the visitors to these sanctuaries, and that they thus served as an instrument for imposing ‘anti-luxuria’ and modesty�74 Divine versus secular dress The aim of these regulations could be to prevent people from dressing too extravagantly, perhaps in order not to ‘outshine’ the image of the god or goddess� Depictions of cult statues as well as ‘living’ divinities often render them wearing elaborate, decorated, and colourful garments (Fig� 3)�75 Moreover, it has been shown that cult images of both male and female divinities were dressed in real garments, often very costly ones�76 It was therefore no coincidence that sanctuary visitors could not wear the same colours or dress as extravagantly as the images of the deities or the priestly personnel, since this could provoke a form of hubris�

72 73 74 75 76

Brøns, 2016: 335� Batten, 2009: 489� Batten, 2009; Cleland, 2002; 2010; Mills, 1984� See Brøns, 2016: chapter 5� Brøns, 2016: chapter 5-7�

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At the sanctuary of Despoina at Lycosoura we have potential evidence of such demarcation of secular and divine dress. In the clothing regulation recovered in the sanctuary (described above) it is stated that visitors are not allowed to wear purple, black or flower-coloured clothing or gold. Over life-size cult images of Despoina, Demeter, Artemis, and the titan Anytos, dating to the 2nd century BCE, have been recovered in temple� 77 Although in a fragmented state, the sculptures include a large fragment of Despoina’ garment, which renders a highly decorated and ornamented garment, even with traces of preserved polychromy (Fig� 4)� Although the inscription admittedly is about one century older than the cult images, the epigraphical and archaeological evidence indicates that there were separate dress-codes for deities and mortal human beings� The clothing regulations also created a way to visualise the difference between deity, priest or priestess, and community� This was of course also the case for prohibitions against wearing gold or jewellery. It seems clear that there was a certain rhetoric of modesty towards the divinity in the sanctuary, and what was permitted for gods was not allowed for humans�78 There seems to have been a general conception of the attire that was appropriate for visiting a divinity in his or her sanctuary� However, the situation was not as univocal, and there were certainly exceptions to this. One such exception is the cult of Asklepios at Epidauros, where the cult statue also wore white garments� This uniformity in dress is also –at least in part- illustrated in iconography, for example on an Attic red-figure krater which depicts a sacrificial procession in honour of the god Apollo at Delphi (Fig� 5)�79 Here, the male participants are dressed in undecorated garments and wears wreaths like the god sitting in his temple� However, the female ritual attendant carrying a basket (a kanephoros), stands out by wearing an elaborately decorated garment, with long sleeves, probably a so-called chitōn cheiridotos�80 This garment would no doubt have made her recognisable to an ancient audience, who would understand her specific role in the cultic rituals taking place� The goddesses in Greek sanctuaries often received offerings of decorated and colourful garments, which were sometimes used to dress

77

78 79 80

National Archaeological Museum of Athens, inv� nos� 1734-1737, 2171-2175� Lycosoura Museum, inv� nos� unknown� Brøns, 2016: 335� Museo Archaeologico Nazionale Ferrara, inv� no� 44894� Miller, 1997�

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their cult images. Purple was the most frequently described colour among the offered textiles, which is attested in the so-called temple inventories from several Greek sanctuaries� The so-called Brauron Catalogues are a particularly rich source for the custom of dedicating garments to goddesses, in this case Artemis�81 Furthermore, the preserved polychromy on sculptures and depictions in vase-painting illustrates that the images of the goddesses were richly ornamented and wore colourful, embellished garments�82 One prime example is the Archaic Korai from the Athenian Acropolis, many of which have traces of their original polychromy, depicting highly decorated garments in a wealth of colours, including the so-called Peplos Kore and the Chios Kore�83 These illustrate the wealth of colours used for garments in depictions of ancient goddesses� Moreover, the famous sculpture of Artemis from Pompeii from the 1st century BCE renders the goddess in a red chiton underneath a white mantle with pink border,84 while the Hellenistic marble statue of “Hera” from Pergamon renders the goddess in a pink peplos with coloured, decorated borders�85 This raises the question of what happened to transgressors of these stipulated dress-codes? As mentioned above, the sacred law of Andania states that the in the case of violations, the items in question should become the property of the gods� This was also the case in Lycosoura, where such items should be dedicated in the sanctuary� Finally, a penalty is also indicated in the clothing regulation from Tlos, which states that anyone who violates these restrictions, should pay a fine every day (unfortunately, the amount of the fine is not preserved). Thus, these clothing items were not considered ‘impure’; otherwise, they would not have been considered appropriate for dedication nor be allowed to stay in the sanctuary� This supports the notion of these regulations serving to prevent visitors to ‘outshine’ the deities�86

81

82 83 84

85

86

For a study of the temple inventories and the dedication of textiles in Greek sanctuaries, see Brøns, 2015; 2016� For the depiction of cult images in vase-painting, see Brøns, 2016: 199-231� E�g� Koch-Brinkmann et al�, 2014: 122–129 This is based on the examinations of the polychromy of the statue, carried out by Vincenz Brinkmann and Ulrike Koch-Brinkmann. Koch-Brinkmann et al., 2014: 130–133. Based on the examinations of the sculpture’s polychromy, carried out by Clarissa Blume. Blume, 2014: 183–185, figs. 22–25. Brøns, 2016: 345�

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Yet, possibly the ban against coloured garments (or the requirement for white garments) cannot exclusively be explained by anti-luxury and the avoidance of outshining the deities in the sanctuary. In comparison, in Mesopotamian myths brightly-coloured garments are given by gods to other gods. For example, in the myth of Inanna and Enki the god Enki gives Inanna a black and multi-coloured garment. And the Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta describes the sacred marriage during which the king in the role of the god Dumuzi puts on a colourful turban while a priestess in the role of the goddess Inanna is dressed in a white garment. All these garments are said to possess numinous powers, indicating that even the gods were more powerful when wearing them�87 Possibly, such precious, coloured garments were also in Greece somehow imbued with special powers, and were therefore reserved for the gods� Religious hierarchies and colour as contrast These regulations did not necessarily serve to ensure that everybody present in the sanctuaries looked completely alike� On the contrary, they could also be used as a means of demarcating visitors or initiates as a group from priestly or other official personnel. Hence, ordinary visitors or initiates could easily be distinguished from other actors in the sanctuary� The effect of these regulations could be to erase the distinctions of profane social status usually expressed through dress and accessories and to replace them with a different religious hierarchy articulated through specific clothing and/or accessories.88 Consequently, ritual sub-hierarchies and status demarcations could still occur, and the position of each cult member in the external community could be reflected in what he or she was allowed to wear during the cult activities�89 Thus, specific adornment—or the lack thereof—may indicate the individual’s position and rank within a

87

88 89

Waetzoldt, 2010: 203� Lines 577–587: “The clever champion, when he came, had covered his head with a colourful turban, and wrapped himself in a garment of lion skins� (…)�” Lines 588–610: “When the old woman came to the mountain of the shining me, she went up to him like a maiden who in her day is perfect, painted her eyes with kohl, wrapped herself in a white garment, came forth with the good crown like the moonlight� She arranged the …… on her head� She made Enmerkar, her spouse, occupy the throne-dais with her�” Cleland, 2002: 44� Colburn & Heyn, 2008: 6�

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religious group,90 similarly to how the dress of the Roman Catholic clergy is used today� This is most likely the intention of the regulation from Andania which distinguishes between the various dress and adornment permitted to priests, priestesses, initiates, women, girls, and slaves� Priests and priestesses appear to have been allowed greater freedom or sumptuousness in their choice of dress and adornment in comparison to ordinary visitors. This is expressed through the fact that some religious personnel had the privilege of wearing decorated and/or coloured garments as well as gold jewellery�91 Examples of purple priestly garments include those of the dignitaries of the cult of Demeter at Ephesos, administered by a local family called the Basilides, who had the privilege of wearing purple garments (porphyrai)�92 Other examples include a 2nd century BCE inscription from the city of Skepsis in Asia Minor which describes the official garment of the priests of Dionysos as a purple chitōn, shoes that match the clothes, and a golden wreath�93 According to Strabo (14�1�41), Anaxenor, who was priest of Zeus Sosipolis at Magnesia ad Meandrum, wore a porphyra� Moreover, Athenaeus (Deipn. 5�54) states that the priest of Herakles in Tarsos wore a purple and white chitōn and an expensive chlamys� Furthermore, inscriptions from Cos provide evidence for the colours of priestly dress: One inscription records that the priest(s) of Zeus Alseios should wear a purple chitōn and a gold ‘aphamma’,94 while another dictates that the priest of Nike should wear a purple chitōn and a gold ring during certain processions, at sacrifice, and when in the temple, but at all other times he should wear white�95 That priestly personnel were allowed greater freedom in their choice of dress and accessories is supported by other inscriptions, which state that priests could wear whatever dress they liked�96 These inscriptions suggests

90 91 92 93 94 95 96

Roach & Eicher, 1973: 17. Brøns, 2016: 355� Blum, 1998: 96, Strabo 14�1�3� REG 89, 1976; SEG 26�1334� ED 215, lines 15-18� LSCG 163� 2nd century BCE� E�g� LSAM 37, which records a law regarding the priesthood for Dionysos Phleos from the 2nd century BCE and LSAM 52 A, which records a law dated to the 1st century BCE from the sanctuary of Asklepios in Miletos�

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that such privileges were something out of the ordinary and reserved for a select few�97 The choice of purple clothing would have made the priest or priestesses highly visible in the temenos� There are, as discussed above, however, several examples of priestly personnel wearing white garments. But perhaps at these sanctuaries white was not a requirement for visitors, which again would have rendered the priestly personnel distinct from the other people present in the temenos�98 Regrettably, the sources are silent regarding the function or meaning of the specified colours, perhaps because it was obvious to the ancient Greeks or perhaps because it was latent rather than conscious�99 Contrast is one obvious explanation for the regulation of colour and decoration; when in a large area such as a temenos an individual would be easily recognisable from a distance if he or she wore a specific colour, such as purple, or a heavily decorated garment, when everybody else wore white, for example. This means that it was easier to control who entered which areas in the sanctuary� The evidence should therefore not necessarily be interpreted as any indication that everybody in the sanctuary wore the same colour, but instead as an indication that some groups of people needed to be easily identifiable by their garments—perhaps so as to distinguish between men and women or priestly personnel and ordinary visitors or initiates�100 This suggests that a form of colour coding took place in Greek sanctuaries� Conclusion This examination of the dress-codes in Greek sanctuaries illustrates that clothing was an important element in the religious experience of the ancient Greeks. Clothing regulations reflect the fact that what people wore when in a sanctuary was far from unimportant. In fact, there appears to have been a general concern with controlling the dress of individuals, especially the colour of garments� Also evident is the opposition between white and colourful or decorated fabrics—in particular purple. It also appears that the sumptuousness of people’s dress was of great concern since people were restricted from wearing excessively valuable or showy attire.

97 98 99 100

Brøns, 2016: 297� Brøns, 2016: 356� Brøns, 2016: 356� Brøns, 2016: 356�

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Acknowledgements This paper contains excerpts from parts of my dissertation Gods and Garments. Textiles in Greek Sanctuaries in the 7th to the 1st centuries BC, which has now been published by Oxbow Books. I am very grateful to my supervisors Marie-Louise Nosch, Bodil Bundgaard Rasmussen, and Lone Wriedt Sørensen for all their assistance and valuable feedback and to the National Research’s Foundation’s Centre for Textile Research and the National Museum of Denmark where the dissertation was written. I would also like to extend my warm gratitude to Mary Harlow and Cécile Michel for all their work arranging an inspiring workshop in Beirut and for reading my paper on my behalf, since I unfortunately could not attend. This paper was submitted in 2017� Hence, recent research and publications are not included�

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Abbreviations AGRW: R. S. Ascough /P. A. Harland / J. S. Kloppenborg, Associations in the Greco-Roman World: A sourcebook. Berlin 2012� CIG IG: Inscriptiones Graecae. LSCG: Sokolowski, F� Lois sacrées des cités grecques, Paris 1969. LSCGS: Sokolowski, F� Lois sacrées des cités grecques, supplément, Paris 1962. LSAM: Sokolowski, F� Lois sacrées de l’Asie Mineure, Paris 1955. LSJ: Liddell, H. G. / Scott, R. A Greek-English Lexicon. Revised and augmented throughout by Sir H. S. Jones with the assistance of R. McKenzie, Oxford 1940� REG: Revue des études grecques. SEG: Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum, Leiden & Amsterdam 1923 –

Bibliography Adams, C� D� 1919: Aeschines� Harvard/London� Austino, C� E� 2012: Adaptation and Tradition in Hellenistic Sacred Laws� Dissertation, Department of Classical Studies, Duke University. Batten, A. J. 2009: “Neither Gold nor Braided Hair (1 Timothy 2.9; 1 Peter 3.3): Adornment, gender and honour in Antiquity”� New Testament Studies 55, 484–501� Blinkenberg, C� 1941: Lindos. Fouilles de l’acropole. 1902-1914. II. Inscriptions� Berlin/Copenhagen� Blum, H� 1998: Purpur als Statussymbol in der Griechischen Welt� Bonn� Blume, C. 2014: “Bright pink, Blue and Other Preferences. Polychrome Hellenistic Sculpture.” In: Østergaard, J.S. / Nielsen, A.M. (eds.) Transformations. Classical Sculpture in Colour� Copenhagen� Brøns, C� 2016: Gods and Garments. Textiles in Greek Sanctuaries in the 7th to the 1st Centuries BC. Oxford. Brøns, C. 2015: “Textiles and Temple Inventories. Detecting an Invisible Votive Tradition in Greek Sanctuaries in the second half of the 1st Millennium BC.” In Fejfer, J., Moltesen, M. & Rathje, A. (eds.), Tradition. Transmission of Culture in the Ancient World� Acta Hyperborea 14� Copenhagen, 43–84� Bury, R. G. 1967/1968: Plato. Vols. 10 & 11. Cambridge/London. Cleland, L� 2002: Colour in Ancient Greek Clothing: A Methodological Investigation. PhD dissertation, University of Edinburgh. Cleland, L� 2005: The Brauron Clothing Catalogues. Oxford.

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Cleland, L� 2010: “A Hierarchy of Women: Status, Dress and Social Construction at Andania”. Unpublished paper for the conference volume of Inaugural Celtic Classics Conference (Maynooth 2000)� Cleland, L�, Davies, G� / Llewellyn-Jones, Ll� 2007: Greek and Roman Dress A to Z. Oxford. Colburn, C� S� / Heyn, M� K� (eds�) 2008: Reading a Dynamic Canvas. Adornment in the Ancient Mediterranean World� Newcastle� Dillon, M� 1997: Pilgrims and Pilgrimage in Ancient Greece, London� Dillon, M� 2002: Girls and Women in Classical Greek Religion� London� Fleischer, R. 2002: “Die Amazonen und das Asyl des Artemisions von Ephesos.” JdI 117, 185–216� Gawlinski, L� 2011: The Sacred Law of Andania. A New Text with Commentary� Berlin� Harlow, M. / Nosch, M.-L. 2014: “Weaving the Threads: Methodologies in Textile and Dress Research for the Greek and Roman World – the State of the Art and the Case for Cross-disciplinarity.” In Harlow, M. / Nosch, M.-L. (eds.), Greek and Roman Textiles and Dress: An Interdisciplinary Anthology� Ancient Textiles Series 19. Oxford, 1–33. Hiller von Gaertringen, F� 1906: Inschriften von Priene� Berlin� Kleijwegt, M. 2002: “Textile Manufacturing for a Religious Market. Artemis and Diana as Tycoons of Industry.” In Jongman, W. / Kleijwegt, M. (eds.), After the Past. Essays in Ancient History in Honour of H. W. Pleket� Leiden, 81–134� Koch-Brinkmann, U. / Piening, H. / Binkmann, V. 2014: “Girls and Goddesses.” In Østergaard, J.S. / Nielsen, A.M. (eds.) Transformations. Classical Sculpture in Colour� Copenhagen, 116–139� Lee, M� M� 2015: Body, Dress, and Identity in ancient Greece� Cambridge� Loucas, I. / Loucas, E. 1994: “The Sacred Laws of Lycosoura”. In R. Hägg (ed.): Ancient Greek Cult Practice from the Epigraphical Evidence� Stockholm, 97–99� Lupu, E� 2006: Greek Sacred Law: A Collection of New Documents� Leiden� Miller, M�C� 1997: Athens and Persia in the 5th Century BC. A Study in Cultural Reciprocity� Cambridge� Mills, H. 1984: “Greek Clothing Regulations: Sacred and Profane?” ZPE 55, 255– 265� Morris, B. / Brooks, M. M. 2007: “Jewish Ceremonial Textiles and the Torah: Exploring Conservation Practices in Relation to Ritual Textiles Associated with Holy Texts.” In Hayward, M. & Kramer, E. (eds.), Textiles and Text: Re-establishing the Links between Archival and Object-based Research� London, 244–248�

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Parker, R. 1983: Miasma. Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion. Oxford� Petrovic, I. / Petrovic, A. 2006: “Look who is talking now!”: Speaker and Communication in Greek Metrical Sacred Regulations.” In Stavrianopoulou, E� (ed�), Ritual and Communication in the Graeco-Roman World� Liege, 151–180� Roach, M. E. / Eicher, J. B. 1973: “The Language of Personal Adornment.” In Cordwell, J. M. & Schwarz, R. A. (eds.): The Fabrics of Culture� London, 7–21� Rostad, A. 2006: Human Transgression – Divine Retribution. A Study of Religious Transgression and Punishments in Greek Cultic Regulations and Lydian-Phrygian Reconciliation Inscriptions� Doctoral thesis, Department of Classics, University of Bergen. Salviat, F. 1959: ”Décrets pour Épié fille de Dionysos: Déesses et sanctuaries thasiens�” BCH 83, 362–379� Seiterle, G� 1999: “Ephesische Wollbinden� Attribut der Göttin, Zeichen des Stieropfers.” In Frisinger, H. / Krinzinger, F. (eds.), 100 Jahre Österreichische Forschungen in Ephesos, Wien, 251–254� Waetzoldt, H. 2010: “The Colours and Variety of Fabrics from Mesopotamia during the Ur III Period (2050 BC)”. In Michel, C. & Nosch, M.-L. (eds.), Textile Terminologies in the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean from the Third to the First Millennia BC. Ancient Textiles Series 8, Oxford, 201–209.

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Fig� 1� Drawings of the Greek garment types: peplos, chiton, and himation�

What to Wear? Dress-codes in Ancient Greek Sanctuaries

Fig. 2. Map of the Greek sacred clothing regulations. © C. Brøns.

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Fig. 3. Red-figure volute krater from Basilicata, depicting the cult image of Athena dressed in an elaborate garment� Ca� 370–350 BCE� British Museum F160� © Trustees of the British Museum.

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Fig� 4� Fragment of the sculpted garment of the cult image of Despoina� Early 2nd century BCE� H: 113 cm� National archaeological Museum of Athens, inv� no� 1737� © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports (Law 3028/2002).

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Fig. 5. Red-figure krater, depicting the god Apollo sitting in his temple. A young girl (kanephoros) approaches carrying a basket of offerings� Ca� 440–430 BCE� Museo Archeologico di Spina, Ferrara, inv. no. 44894. Photo: Egisto Sani.

Lydia, Phrygia and the Cimmerians: Mesopotamian and Greek evidence combined* Mait Kõiv

Introduction From the point of view of the literary evidence, Early Iron Age Anatolia appears as a no man’s land between the cultures of the Near East and the Hellenic Aegean world� The wealthy indigenous sources from the second millennium BC1 end abruptly with the destruction of Hattuša in the early 12th century, and the subsequent literary data is given predominantly by Mesopotamian and to some extent Greek sources, to which the local Anatolian texts give only scarce additions.2 The character of the Mesopotamian and the Greek evidence is, however, different� From Mesopotamia we mainly have the documents of the Assyrian kings describing contemporary events, while from the Greek side the bulk of the evidence derives from traditions written down many centuries after the events they purport to describe, often transmitted to us by still later sources� The differences in the reliability of the evidence, and the consequent problems of interpretation, are obvious� The following paper will discuss these problems, focusing on the evidence concerning the people called Cimmerians by the Greeks and Gimirrai in the Assyrian sources, connected to the invasions of another people called respectively Scythians and Iškuzai or Ašguzai. The Cimmerians ravaged western Iran and Anatolia in the late 8th and 7th centuries, attacked the kingdoms of Phrygia and Lydia, and were perceived as dangerous enemies by both the

*

1 2

The research has been supported by a scholarship of Gerda Henkel Foundation. I wish to thank the anonymous reviewers for their helpful comments, and Janusz Peters for his help with my English text. All the following dates are BC, if not stated differently� For the Paleo-Phrygian epigraphic evidence see Roller, 2011: 565–567.

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Assyrians and the Greeks. I will focus mainly on the evidence provided by the Greeks, considering the Assyrian data less problematic from the point of view of reliability� My principal concern will be the use and abuse of the Greek evidence for the reconstruction of 7th century Anatolian history� I will pay special attention to some dates given by the Greeks for the Cimmerian invasion and the death of the Phrygian king Midas which have often been rather uncritically connected to the Assyrian data and used as a means for dating the archaeological record. I will not discuss the controversial question of whether the Cimmerians were invaders from the Pontic steppes, as claimed by the Greek tradition, or a people from Iran as suggested by several modern scholars�3 Our state of evidence hardly allows any definite solution of this question, the answer to which will inevitably depend on our degree of trust in the legendary Greek story� Instead, I will focus on the alleged attack(s) against central and western Anatolia (Phrygia and Lydia), considering the value of the Greek narrative and of the relevant dates proposed by the Greek chronographers, and will, in the end, briefly envisage a tentative reconstruction of the principal events as warranted by the sources�4 The Assyrian evidence The Gimirrai appear in the Assyrian texts at the time of Sargon II (721– 705)5 when they defeated king Rusas I of Urartu who confronted them in the land of Gamir, either in the central Transcaucasia, northward of Urartu, or to the south-east in the Mannean region at Zagros.6 The event is

3

4

5

6

See Kristensen, 1988; Lanfranchi, 1990; Sauter, 2000; Drews, 2004: 118–122, against Parker, 1995; Lebedynsky, 2004; Räthel, 2019: 246-249. Roller, 2011: 563 also accepts the invasion from the north as historical, and the archaeological history of Europe by Barry Cunliffe (2008: 264–267) considers the Cimmerian homeland north of the Black Sea and their consequent migrations as a historical reality� Note also the spread of the so-called Cimmerian and early Scythian material in Anatolia from at least the 8th century, although the connection of this with the Cimmerians, the Scythians and their invasions is of course highly questionable (Hellmuth, 2008; Tsetzkhladze, 2011: 115–120)� I have discussed these questions in Kõiv, 2007, but have in the present paper reconsidered and elaborated further several important points� For discussion of the Assyrian evidence see especially Kristensen, 1988; Lanfranchi, 1990: 11–125; Ivantchik, 1993: 19–125; Sauter, 2000: 217–248; Lebedynsky, 2004: 26–34. For the disputed location of Gamir see; Sulimirski / Taylor, 1991: 558; Ivantchik, 1993: 26–28; Lebedynsky, 2004: 28–29 (placing it near Lake Sevan), and Kristensen, 1988: 13–20, 100; Sauter, 2000: 223–224 (placing it in the Mannean district)�

Lydia, Phrygia and the Cimmerians: Mesopotamian and Greek evidence combined 263

dated to 714, the same year as the eighth campaign of Sargon culminating with the defeat of the Urartian forces at Mount Wauš and the consequent destruction of the towns of Urartu.7 A few years later, in 705, Sargon perished in a campaign against a certain Ešpai the Kulummean, either in Tabal (eastern part of central Anatolia) or in Media� Moderns have sometimes identified the adversaries of Sargon as the Gimirrai, although the sources do not explicitly state this.8 The next time the Gimirrai were recorded in Assyrian sources was at the time of Assarhaddon (681–669). In 679 Teušpa the chief of Gimirrai was defeated by a governor of Assarhaddon at Hubuškia in Tabal� This was the first time that Assyrian sources locate the Gimirrai in Anatolia, while the statement that the homeland of this Teušpa was ‘far away’ clearly indicates him as an invader in this region�9 A few years later, in 676/675, Assarhaddon fought in Anatolia against the Gimirrai who had concluded an alliance with a king of Muški (probably Phrygia) whose name has not been preserved in the text.10 Muški clearly appears as a solid power at this time and there is no indication of any hostility between its king and the Gimirrai� A few years later a certain Mita, a ‘city lord’ (bēl āli), from Anatolia is mentioned in a text of Assarhaddon, but the state (city) he governed is lost in the text and no relationship between Mita and the Gimmirrai, either friendly or hostile, is evident�11

7

8

9

10 11

See the discussion of the complex evidence for these events in Lehmann-Haupt, 1921: 402; Barnett, 1982: 355–357; Sulimirski / Taylor, 1991: 558–559; Kristensen, 1988: 22–98; Lanfranchi, 1990: 11–44; Lanfranchi / Parpola, 1990: XX; Ivantchik, 1993: 21–26; Parker, 1995: 11–19; Sauter, 2000: 219–222; Lebedynsky, 2004: 28–30. Urartu appears as being under simultaneous attack of the Gimirrai and the Assyrian forces, but there is no evidence for any cooperation between them� Sargon’s death in the campaign against Ešpai in the Babylonian Eponym Chronicle (Ungnad, 1938: 435). The identification with the Gimirrai depends on the restoration of Gimirrai in ABL 437 and the assumption that it refers to the death of Sargon� For the identification: Barnett, 1982: 356; Hawkins, 1982: 422; Sulimirski / Taylor, 1991: 559; Drews, 2004: 111; see also Kuhrt, 1995: 499; scepticism expressed by Kristensen, 1988: 101 n. 339; Ivantchik, 1993: 53–55; Sauter, 2000: 224–225; Lebedynsky, 2004: 30. The defeat of Teušpa is mentioned in the inscriptions of Assarhaddon (Heidel, 1956) and in a Babylonian chronicle (ANET 303); see Hawkins, 1982: 427; Kristensen, 1988: 104; Sulimirski / Taylor, 1991: 559; Ivantchik, 1993: 57–61; Parker, 1995: 30; Sauter, 2000: 226–228; Lebedynsky, 2004: 30–31; Drews, 2004: 111� Starr, 1990: no� 1� Starr, 1990: no� 13; for discussion of the evidence for the king of Muški and for Mita

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The Gimirrai were also active in Media eastwards of Urartu where a number of texts of Assarhaddon mention them as Assyrian enemies besides the Medians and the people of Manna� But they could also form detachments in Assyrian service� At the same time, the documents of Assarhaddon mention the people named Iškuzai or Ašguzai (very probably the Scythians) who operated simultaneously and in the same districts as the Gimirrai�12 In 676 a leader of the Iškusai called Bartatua (or Partatua) proposed to marry a daughter of Assarhaddon�13 Whether this plan was realised or not cannot be said� The first clear indications of the Gimirrai’s attacks against western Anatolia date from the time of Assurbanipal (668–627)� We learn that in the years between 668–665 Gugu the king of Luddi (almost certainly identical to Gyges the king of Lydia in the Greek accounts) sought Assyrian support against the Gimirrai who had attacked his land� Gugu concluded an alliance with Assurbanipal, was successful against the invaders, and sent two imprisoned leaders of the Gimirrai to the Assyrian king� But he soon renounced Assyrian protection and concluded an alliance with the Egyptian king Psamtik I, perhaps because in 657 the Gimirrai left his land and invaded Syria and Palestine, rendering the alliance with the Assyrian king useless� Assurbanipal cursed Gugu whose corpse was consequently ‘cast before his enemy’ during a mighty attack of the Gimirrai in 650– 644� Gugu’s son and successor, however, again sought the protection of the Assyrian king�14 Slightly later, ca� 640 or thereafter, Dugdammi the king of umman manda (roughly the barbarian nomads), probably of the Gimirrai, formed an anti-Assyrian alliance with Tabal but perished at the hands of the god Aššur, whereupon both his Tabalite allies and his son

12

13 14

the city lord at the time of Assarhaddon see Lanfranchi, 1990: 51–69; Ivantchik, 1993: 65–68; Parker, 1995: 30; Röllig, 1997: 494; Lebedynsky, 2004: 31; Berndt-Ersöz, 2008: 18–19; DeVries, 2011b: 53. The evidence mainly comes from the oracle questions of Assarhaddon to Šamaš� See Lanfranchi, 1990: 84–108; Ivantchik, 1993: 74–93; Sauter, 2000: 228–231; Lebedynsky, 2004: 30–32� Starr, 1990: no� 20; Kuhrt, 2010: 33 no� 12� The sources published and discussed in Cogan / Tadmor, 1977� See also Lehmann-Haupt, 1912: 1960–1965; Kaletsch, 1958; Spalinger, 1978; Mazetti, 1978; Ivantchik, 1993: 95–115; Aro-Valjus, 1999; Sauter, 2000: 232–235; Drews, 2004: 107–109; Lebedynsky, 2004: 32–34; Fuchs, 2010: 410–415�

Lydia, Phrygia and the Cimmerians: Mesopotamian and Greek evidence combined 265

Sandakšatru concluded an alliance with Assyria�15 Thereafter the evidence for the Gimirrai in the Assyrian sources ceases� The Assyrian sources thus indicate martial activity of the barbarian and apparently nomadic peoples called Gimirrai and Iškuzai / Ašguzai in western Iran and Anatolia during the late 8th and the 7th century� The sources do not indicate if they were of local origin or invaders from some distant location, or where their original homeland might have been� They attacked various states, concluded mutual alliances with the local rulers, and probably served them as mercenaries� Their activity in central Anatolia is recorded from the 670s when they appear in friendly relations with Muški� However, they attacked western Anatolia in the 660s when Gugu of Luddi was able to repel them, while in the early 640s their renewed attack on Luddi proved disastrous for its king� The Greek evidence Homer’s Odyssey mentions the Cimmerians in a legendary context as the people living somewhere on the borders of the inhabited world�16 The earliest account of their activity in historical times and in an ostensibly realistic context is given by the 5th century Herodotos, while additional data can be gathered from Strabo and other later writers�17 We can assume that the Lydian historian Xanthos, a near contemporary of Herodotos, touched upon the Cimmerians’ invasion in his Lydiaka, but no direct evidence for this has survived�18 Herodotos probably relied, as usual, essentially on the oral traditions current during his time� However, these events were also touched upon by some contemporary poets such as Kallinos of Ephesos and Archilochos of Paros whose verses could have been known

15

16 17

18

Streck, 1916: no� 10 (281); Lehmann-Haupt, 1921: 416–419; Cogan / Tadmor, 1977: 80–81; Kuhrt, 1987–90: 187; Sauter, 2000: 235–237. Although the sources do not explicitly identify Dugdammi as a Cimmerian, there seems to be little doubt that he was (see Ivantchik, 1993: 118–120; Fuchs, 2010: 416–419; De Vries, 2011b: 53–54). For the meaning of umman manda see Adalı, 2011. Od. XI 14. For a summary and discussion of the Greek evidence see especially Lehmann-Haupt, 1921: 412–419; Ivantchik, 1993: 69–73, 105–114; Sauter, 2000: 82–93, 166–173; Berndt-Ersöz 2008, 19–21, 25–27� Xanthos, FGrHist 765 F 1–30�

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to Herodotos and were referred to by the later authors�19 Kallinos certainly mentioned the sacking of the Lydian capital Sardeis by the Cimmerians and might have provided some additional information (see below)� An Archaic epic poet Aristeas of Prokonnesos was referred to by Herodotos in a statement about the original homeland of the Cimmerians�20 However, the quotations of these poets, scarce as they are, suggest that they did not give any substantial description of the events, but presented only passing remarks� The bulk of the Greek evidence must derive ultimately from oral tradition� The Greeks believed that the Cimmerians originally dwelt in the steppes north of the Black Sea� They were attacked by Scythian invaders, left the country, crossed the Caucasus and invaded Anatolia where they occupied the region of the future Greek city Sinope on the southern coast of the Black Sea�21 They attacked Phrygia—where, according to Stabo, king Midas committed suicide as a result of the attack22—and moved against Lydia at the time when it was ruled by King Ardys the son of Gyges. They ravaged the Lydian capital Sardeis except the acropolis,23 attacked the Greek cities on the Anatolian western coast, burned down the famous sanctuary of Artemis at Ephesos24 and forced a part of the Greek population to take refuge on the islands of the Aegean Sea�25 Their invasion of the Near East was led by the chief called Lygdamis who was responsible for the attack on Sardeis and the destruction of the Ephesian Artemision, and who next invaded Kilikia (south-eastern Anatolia) and

19

20

21

22 23

24

25

Herodotos (I 12.2) indeed mentioned that Archilochos had referred to Gyges in his verses� Hdt. IV 13. According to Herodotos, Aristeas composed more than 240 years before him, which suggests a date no later than the early 7th century, making Aristeas virtually a contemporary of the Cimmerians’ invasion� Suidas s�v� Aristeas synchronised Aristeas with the Lydian last king Kroisos (around the middle of the 6th century)� The best account is given by Herodotos IV 11–12; I 15, 103; but see also Ps-Scymn. 947–952; Eustath. Od. XI 14. Strab. I 3.21 (quoted in note 35); Eustath. Od. XI 14. Hdt. I 15; Kallisthenes, FGrHist 124 F 29 (= Strab. XIII 4.8); Strab. I 3.21; Eustath. Od. XI 14. The attack was mentioned by Hdt. I 6. More details in Strab. XIV 1.40; Callim. Hymn. Artem. 251–258; Athen. XII 525c. Aristotle (fr. 478 Rose) mentioned the Cimmerian occupation of Antandros on the Aegean coast opposite to the island Lesbos� This is mentioned in an inscription containing a letter from King Lysimachos to the citizens of Samos dating from 283/2 (Welles, 1966: no� 7�14ff)�

Lydia, Phrygia and the Cimmerians: Mesopotamian and Greek evidence combined 267

perished there, which was understood as divine vengeance for the pillage of the precinct of the goddess�26 The Cimmerians remained in Asia for at least one more generation and were thrown out by the Lydian king Alyattes, grandson of Ardys�27 The Scythians, having expelled the Cimmerians from their homeland, went on to pursue them, led by their king Madyes son of Protothyes. They, however, missed the road, moved eastward from the Caucasus and fell upon Media. This happened at the time when the Median king Kyaxares was besieging the Assyrian capital Ninos (Nineveh)� The Scythians defeated the Medians in a battle and, according to Herodotos, became the rulers of Asia for the next 28 years.28 They intended to invade Egypt but Psammenitos the king of Egypt persuaded them to give up on this plan.29 Afterwards, a conflict with Kyaxares caused them to take flight to Lydia and pursue protection from the Lydian king Alyattes� This led to a war between Median Kyaxares and Lydian Alyattes during which a reconciliation was incited by a solar eclipse predicted by the famous Milesian philosopher Thales�30 However, this flight of the Scythians to Lydia apparently did not mark the end of their presence in the Median possessions because in another section Herodotos recounts that Kyaxares wiped out the Scythians by massacring them during a banquet. Kyaxares thus recovered his empire and was able to conquer Ninos, capital of Assyria�31 Herodotos does not indicate how these two instances—the flight of the Scythians to Alyattes and their massacre at a banquet by Kyaxares—were related to each other, but as the massacre marked the definite end of the Scythian presence the flight to Alyattes must have taken place before that. Both the expulsion of the Cimmerians by Alyattes referred to above and the end of the Scythian hegemony with the massacre by Kyaxares must have taken place during Alyattes’ reign according to the chronological evidence of Herodotos,32

26

27 28

29 30 31 32

Lygdamis as the leader of the Cimmerians in their intrusion into Asia: Plut. Mar. 11; the sack of Sardeis and the attack on the Ionian cities by Lygdamis: Strab. I 3.21; Welles, 1966: no� 7�14ff; the destruction of the Ephesian Artemision by Lygdamis: Kallim. Hymn� Artem� 251–258; Hesych� s�v� Lygdamis; the death of Lygdamis in Kilikia: Strab. I 3.21. Hdt. I 16.2; Polyaen. VII 2.1. Hdt. IV 12; I 103.3–104, 106.1. According to Justinus II 3. 4 and Orosius, I 14 the hegemony of the Scythian lasted for 15 years� Hdt. I 105. Hdt. I 73–74. Hdt. I 106. See below with note 47�

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but the relationship between these apparently crucial events remains unclear in his account� In connection to the Cimmerian invasion we hear about one more tribe, the Treres, ravaging western Anatolia� According to the 4th century historian Kallisthenes, quoted by Strabo, the Treres together with the Lycians (a people from south-western Anatolia) sacked Sardeis at some time after the sacking of the city by the Cimmerians, and destroyed the Greek city Magnesia near the Aegean coast�33 The evidence for the relationship between the Treres and the Cimmerians is controversial� On the one hand, the Greeks sometimes identified the Treres with the Cimmerians or called them a ‘Cimmerian people’ (kimmerikos ethnos), while on the other hand the Treres were believed to have invaded Anatolia from Thrace,34 thus from the opposite direction compared to the Cimmerians, and their leader was called Kobos instead of Lygdamis the Cimmerian�35 A report from Arrianos about a defeat inflicted on the Cimmerians by the Thracians (a possible correlate for the Treres, when considering their alleged Thracian origins) may imply hostility between the Treres and the Cimmerians�36 The

33

34

35

36

Kallisthenes, FGrHist 124 F 29 ap. Strab. XIII 4.8: Φησὶ δὲ Καλλισθένης ἁλῶναι τὰς Σάρδεις ὑπὸ Κιμμερίων πρῶτον, εἶθ’ ὑπὸ Τρηρῶν καὶ Λυκίων, ὅπερ καὶ Καλλῖνον δηλοῦν τὸν τῆς ἐλεγείας ποιητήν, .... (‘Kallisthenes says that Sardeis was taken first by the Cimmerians and next by the Treres and the Lycians, as indicated also by Kallinos the elegiac poet’)� Strab. I 3.21 (οἵ τε Κιμμέριοι, οὓς καὶ Τρῆρας ὀνομάζουσιν); XIV 1.40 (ὑπὸ Τρηρῶν ἄρδην ἀναιρεθῆναι, Κιμμερικοῦ ἔθνους). Treres are described as a Thracian people in Thuc. II 96.4–5; Steph. Byz. s.v. Τρῆρος; and a people of Thracian origin in Strab. XIII 1�8; cf� Keil, 1937� Strab. I 3.21: οἵ τε Κιμμέριοι, οὓς καὶ Τρῆρας ὀνομάζουσιν, ἢ ἐκείνων τι ἔθνος, πολλάκις ἐπέδραμον τὰ δεξιὰ μέρη τοῦ Πόντου καὶ τὰ συνεχῆ αὐτοῖς, τοτὲ μὲν ἐπὶ Παφλαγόνας τοτὲ δὲ καὶ Φρύγας ἐμβαλόντες, ἡνίκα Μίδαν αἷμα ταύρου πιόντα φασὶν ἀπελθεῖν εἰς τὸ χρεών. Λύγδαμις δὲ τοὺς αὑτοῦ ἄγων μέχρι Λυδίας καὶ ᾿Ιωνίας ἤλασε καὶ Σάρδεις εἷλεν, ἐν Κιλικίᾳ δὲ διεφθάρη. πολλάκις δὲ καὶ οἱ Κιμμέριοι καὶ οἱ Τρῆρες ἐποιήσαντο τὰς τοιαύτας ἐφόδους· τοὺς δὲ Τρῆρας καὶ Κῶβον ὑπὸ Μάδυος τὸ τελευταῖον ἐξελαθῆναί φασι τοῦ τῶν Σκυθῶν βασιλέως. (‘The Cimmerians, also called the Treres, or a people of them, have frequently overrun the countries to the right of Pontus and those adjacent to them, bursting now into Paphlagonia, now into Phrygia, which was the time when Midas is said to have come to his death by drinking bull’s blood� Lygdamis led his followers into Lydia, passed through Ionia, took Sardeis, but perished in Kilikia. The Cimmerians and Treres frequently made this kind of incursions. It is reported that the Treres and Kobos were in the end driven out by Madys, king of the Scythians’)� Arrianos ap. Eustath. ad Dion. Per. 332 and 791.

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Treres were reputedly defeated and expelled from Asia by the Scythian leader Madys,37 while the expulsion of the Cimmerians was ascribed to Alyattes, as mentioned above� When Kallisthenes, and Strabo after him, mentioned the two sackings of Sardeis—first by the Cimmerians and next by the Treres—they relied on the verses of the 7th century Ephesian poet Kallinos who had mentioned both the Cimmerians and the Treres in some relevant context.38 The verses of Kallinos concerning the sacking (or the sackings) have not survived, which makes reconstruction of his exact evidence difficult. However, his verses suggested to Kallisthenes and Strabo that the pillage by the Cimmerians took place earlier than the attack of the Treres, during the course of which Magnesia was also destroyed�39 Kallinos might have distinguished between the Cimmerians and the Treres, perhaps mentioning their respective leaders—Lygdamis and Kobos—and establishing their different origins and routes of invasion, in which case we should postulate two separate invasions: the Cimmerians under Lygdamis first ravaging

37 38

39

Strab. I 3.21 (see note 35). Strab. I 3.21. Two short fragments of the relevant verses of Kallinos have been preserved, which indicate that he did indeed mention both Cimmerians and Treres: Steph� Byz. s.v. Τρῆρος (fr. 4 West): Τρήρεας ἄνδρας ἄγων (‘leading the Trerean men’) and Strab. XIV 1.40 (fr. 5 West): νῦν δ’ ἐπὶ Κιμμερίων στρατὸς ἔρχεται ὀβριμοεργῶν (‘And now the army of the Cimmerians, mighty in deeds, advances’). See the next note. Strab. XIV 1.40 quoted Kallinos (besides the quotation in the previous note) in the following passage: καὶ τὸ παλαιὸν δὲ συνέβη τοῖς Μάγνησιν ὑπὸ Τρηρῶν ἄρδην ἀναιρεθῆναι, Κιμμερικοῦ ἔθνους, εὐτυχήσαντας πολὺν χρόνον, τὸ δ’ ἑξῆς τοὺς Μιλησίους κατασχεῖν τὸν τόπον. Καλλῖνος μὲν οὖν ὡς εὐτυχούντων ἔτι τῶν Μαγνήτων μέμνηται καὶ κατορθούντων ἐν τῷ πρὸς τοὺς ᾿Εφεσίους πολέμῳ, ᾿Αρχίλοχος δὲ ἤδη φαίνεται γνωρίζων τὴν γενομένην αὐτοῖς συμφοράν „κλαίει * θάσων οὗ τὰ Μαγνήτων κακά.” ἐξ οὗ καὶ αὐτὸν νεώτερον εἶναι τοῦ Καλλίνου τεκμαίρεσθαι πάρεστιν. ἄλλης δέ τινος ἐφόδου τῶν Κιμμερίων μέμνηται πρεσβυτέρας ὁ Καλλῖνος ἐπὰν φῇ „νῦν δ’ ἐπὶ Κιμμερίων στρατὸς ἔρχεται ὀβριμοεργῶν,”ἐν ᾗ τὴν Σάρδεων ἅλωσιν δηλοῖ. (‘In ancient times, also, it came to pass that the Magnetans were utterly destroyed by the Treres, a Cimmerian people, although they had for a long time been prosperous, and the Milesians thereafter took possession of the place. Κallinοs mentions the Magnetans as still being prosperous and successful in their war against the Ephesians, but Archilochos is already aware of the misfortune that befell them: “Ι bewail the woes of the Thasians, not those of the Magnetans”, whence one can judge that he was more recent than Κallinοs. And Κallinοs recalls another, and earlier, invasion of the Cimmerians when he says: “And now the army of the Cimmerians, mighty in deeds, advances”, in which he plainly indicates the capture of Sardeis�’)

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Sardeis; and the Ephesian Artemision and the Treres under Kobos next attacking Sardeis and Magnesia� Alternatively, Kallinos might simply have used different names for the same invaders, which confused later writers and caused Kallisthenes to postulate two separate sackings of the Lydian capital�40 This would however not explain the different leaders for which Strabo seems to have had some evidence� The relationship between the Cimmerians and the Treres thus remains unclear� The Greek accounts describe the movements of the Cimmerians and the Scythians as taking place during a fairly short period of time� Herodotos explicitly states that the Cimmerians both invaded Asia and sacked Sardeis at the time of Ardys, and Plutarch later states that the invasion from the north into Asia was led by Lygdamis,41 the same chief who reputedly ravaged Sardeis and the Ephesian Artemision and who afterwards perished in Kilikia� The movement from the northern steppes into Asia and the attack against Phrygia, Lydia and Ionia, and next against Kilikia, was imagined as a single invasion under the same leader�42 The Scythians, on the other hand, immediately pursued the retreating Cimmerians and must therefore have invaded Asia almost at the same time� The expulsion of all these invaders—the Treres, the Cimmerians and the Scythians—from Asia took place no more than a generation after their invasion: the Treres were expelled by Madys (Madyes), the Scythian king who had led them into Asia; the Scythians themselves were overthrown by Kyaxares, the same Median king in whose time they had invaded the country; and Alyattes expelling the Cimmerians was a younger contemporary of Kyaxares (note the battle between them resolved by the eclipse)�43 This corresponds well

40 41 42

43

See Jacoby, 1930: 426–427; Ivantchik, 1993: 106–107. Hdt. I 15; Plut. Mar. 11.8–10. This compact account might be contradicted by Strabo who mentioned the frequency of the Cimmerian attacks (I 3.21: πολλάκις ἐπέδραμον τὰ δεξιὰ μέρη τοῦ Πόντου καὶ τὰ συνεχῆ αὐτοῖς, τοτὲ μὲν ἐπὶ Παφλαγόνας τοτὲ δὲ καὶ Φρύγας ἐμβαλόντες – see note 35). But Strabo does not indicate when exactly these attacks took place and could have assumed that all this happened at the time of Ardys� He might have referred to the two successive pillages of Sardeis by the Cimmerians and the Treres. If he assumed that the Cimmerians attacked before Ardys, he was certainly diverging from the prevalent opinion of the Greeks� Herodotos synchronised Madyes with the Median king Kyaxares whose reign overlapped, in his view, with that of Lydian Alyattes, the king expelling the Cimmerians from Asia (compare Hdt. I 16.2, 73, 103). Alyattes was the grandson of Ardys but his father Sadyattes reputedly reigned for only 12 years (Hdt. I 16.1), which brings the

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to the relatively short period—28 years—of Scythian hegemony in Asia, according to Herodotos� The Greek accounts are obviously legendary, as can be expected from oral traditions, and the coherent story of the Cimmerian and Scythian movements could have resulted from telescoping a complex development into a single event, characteristic for traditional accounts� However, despite this legendary nature, there is no doubt that the Greek sources transmit some truthful information� There is no reason to doubt the identification of the Cimmerians and the Scythians with the Gimirrai and Iškuzai / Ašguzai in the Assyrian sources, and no reason to deny the reality of the attack of the Gimirrai / Cimmerians against Luddi / Lydia known from both the Greek and the Assyrian accounts� The tradition has apparently preserved some authentic names� Lygdamis, the Cimmerian leader perishing in Kilikia, can be identified with Dugdumme the chief of the umman manda perishing somewhere around Tabal. Protothyes, father of the Scythian king Madyes according to Herodotos, has been tentatively identified with the Bartatua (Partatua), the leader of Iškuzai seeking to marry a daughter of Assarhaddon�44 On the other hand, the Greek tradition obviously does not give a correct report of the events, as can be expected given the essentially traditional oral background of this evidence� Even if the identification of Protothyes with Bartatua is to be accepted, this person was clearly misplaced by Herodotos because according to him Portothyes should never have reached Asia as the Scythians invaded it only under the kingship of Madyes his son� The Greek tradition says nothing about the relatively long period of the Cimmerian attacks in Asia, from Sargon to Assurbanipal according to the Assyrian texts, but telescopes the supposed invasion from the north and the raiding of western Anatolia into a single event at the time of Ardys, son of Gyges, thus to the time of Assurbanipal (the contemporary of Gugu/Gyges and his descendant)� Herodotos’ account concerning the end of Scythian hegemony obviously cannot be reconciled with the Near Eastern evidence. If the Scythians were expelled from Media before Kyaxares conquered Nineveh, which can be firmly dated to 612, they could not have taken flight to Alyattes as late as immediately before the Lydo-Median war during which Thales predicted the eclipse, because Thales could not have been active at such an early date; the eclipse he

44

reign of Alyattes close to that of his grandfather� For the absolute dates of the Lydian kings suggested by the Herodotean data, see below� See also note 47� See for example: Parker, 1995: 20; Drews, 2004: 113.

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reputedly predicted, which interrupted the battle between the Lydians and the Medians, could be the one on May 28th 585�45 Herodotos’ account implies that the battle at the time of the eclipse took place before rather than after the expulsion of Scythians and the conquest of Nineveh, thus before 612�46 In 585 Kyaxares, the Median king during the war, should have already been dead according to Herodotos’ chronological account�47 The legendary character of the Greek tradition clearly precludes any reconstruction of a precise course of events� Based to a great degree on oral tradition, it was inevitably modified, simplified and distorted during the generations-long transmission. The most we can expect is a reflection of some realities of the past, which is by no means comparable to the relatively firm evidence of the Assyrian sources. A straightforward comparison of the Greek and Assyrian data, and the attempts to adjust the particulars from the Greek sources with the Assyrian evidence, therefore, can hardly produce satisfactory results� Nevertheless, as we have seen, the Assyrian sources and the Greek tradition clearly conform as far as the Cimmerians’ attacks on Lydia are concerned. The texts of Assurbanipal place this to ca 665–640, to the time of Gugu and his son, and the Greek tradition connected it with Ardys, son of Gyges� The silence of the Greek accounts about any Cimmerian attack against Gyges does not present any real problem48 because we cannot expect an oral tradition to record every single event. The second wave of the Gimirrai’s attack against the Luddi, during which the corpse of Gugu was ‘cast before his enemy’, might well have been the one that led to the pillage of Sardeis at the time of Ardys� We can assume that the poet Kallinos mentioned Ardys in connection with this, which would suggest that Sardeis was actually sacked during his reign, perhaps soon

45 46

47

48

See for example Mosshammer, 1979: 263. The battle was incited by a conflict between Kyaxares and the Scythians which must have taken place before the end of the Scythian hegemony which, in turn, preceded the conquest of Ninos� See above, with notes 30–31� If counting according to the lengths of reigns given by Herodotos we should date Kyaxares to 662–596 and Alyattes to 618–562, which would allow the period 618–596 for their conflict and reconciliation. However, as the flight of the Scythians to Alyattes must have taken place before their final destruction, and this in turn before the conquest of Ninos, the battle with the eclipse must be dated before this conquest� It is hardly justified to place the first attack by the Cimmerians at the time of Gyges and the second by the Treres at the time of Ardys (see Sauter, 2000: 180–181)� The Greeks clearly believed that the Cimmerian attack took place at the time of Ardys�

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after the death of Gyges� The initiative of the son of Gugu (thus Ardys) to re-establish the alliance with Assyria fits well into this picture. The convergence of the Greek and the eastern accounts is obvious� Midas of Phrygia, Mita of Muški, and the archaeological record from Gordion The Cimmerian invasion of Phrygia and the possible sacking of its capital Gordion is more problematic. It would be hardly credible that Phrygia in central Anatolia would have been spared by the Cimmerians ravaging the countries both eastwards and westwards. However, the attack on Phrygia is never mentioned in the extant Assyrian sources which indicate that in the 670s Muški, thus the Phrygian kingdom, was still a notable power allied to the Gimirrai�49 Strabo indeed recounts that Midas the king of Phrygia committed suicide by drinking bull’s blood because of the Cimmerian invasion�50 Midas was an ambivalent figure in Greek legend, comprehending at least two distinct personae. One was a completely mythical figure from an imaginary distant past, a fabulously rich king who encountered Silenos whose touch turned everything into gold and had the ears of an ass�51 This Midas can be distinguished from the quasi-historical Phrygian king whom Herodotos mentioned as the first barbarian ruler making dedications at Delphi, placing him thus before Gyges the next barbarian dedicator in this Hellenic sanctuary�52 This ‘historical’ Midas was reputedly married to Demodike or Hermodike, the daughter of Agamemnon king of Kyme (a Greek city on the Anatolian western coast) and a woman who was reputedly

49

50 51

52

Parker, 1995: 30–32 suggests that an Assyrian text, dated to 657, which claims that the Cimmerians had taken control of Amurru may refer to Phrygia, but Amurru usually referred to Syria (see Berndt-Ersöz, 2008: 28)� Strab. I 3.21 (note 35); Eustath. Od. XI 14. For this legendary Midas see Roller, 1983 who regards the mythological Midas and the quasi-historical king of Phrygia as being identical (roughly similar to DeVries, 2011b: 51–53). Some of the ancients surely identified them (the Byzantine chronographers quoted in note 88 ascribed the ass’s ears to the ‘historical’ king), but in general the mythological Midas reputedly lived in a very distant past and was often located in Thrace in the Balkans (as for example Hdt. VIII 138.2–3 assuming that Midas lived in Thrace at some unspecified time before the foundation of the Macedonian dynasty) instead of Phrygia. Hdt. I 14.2–3.

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the first to issue coined money.53 This was the Midas who committed suicide by drinking bull’s blood,54 and we are told that after his death his kinsmen (probably the relatives of his wife) commissioned Homer to compose the tomb epigram for him�55 The Chronicle of Eusebios dated this Midas to 742–696 (or 738–695),56 and it has long been recognised that the ancient chronographers knew still another date for his death at 676–4�57 From the Assyrian sources we know a king Mita of Muški who appeared in the documents of Sargon II from 718 to 709. This Mita was a mighty Anatolian dynast who supported the disloyal Assyrian vassals in southeastern Anatolia and northern Syria, being involved with Kiakki of Šinuhtu (in 718), Pisiri of Karhemiš (in 717), Am(ba)ris of Tabal (in 713) Kurti of Atuna and Tarhunazi of Melid (in 711), and captured fortresses in Que (Kilikia)� The documents of Sargon mention several victories against him from 715 to 710. In 709, however, Mita gave up his previous opposition towards Assyria and formed an alliance with Sargon�58 No text connects this Mita with the Gimirrai� As mentioned above, a Mita from Anatolia is also known from the time of Assarhaddon (680–669), at this time called a city lord, but his connection with Muški or the Mita from the time of Sargon cannot be established� Nor is he connected with the Gimirrai�59 The name of king Midas appears also in the Phrygian inscriptions on a cult monument from the Midas city and on a stele from Tyana, but the brevity of the texts and the difficulties of secure dating scarcely allow us to establish to which Mita they might pertain�60

53 54

55

56

57 58

59 60

Pollux, Onom. IX 83; Arist. fr. 611.37 Rose. See notes 22 and 35 above; Plut. Flamin. 20.20; Plut. De superst. 8 (Mor. 168f) mentioning that the suicide was caused by some bad dreams� Certamen Homeri et Hesiodi, 15; Herodoti vita Homeri, (11–12) 130–164� See Kivilo, 2011: 91� These slightly varying dates come from the Latin translation of Jerome (Euseb� Chron� 89b, 92b Helm: 742–696) and the Armenian translation (Euseb� Chron� 182, 184 Karst: 738–795)� Gelzer, 1875: 252 n� 6; Berndt-Ersöz, 2008: 7–8� See below� The sources listed in Berndt-Ersöz, 2008: 34–36� See also Hawkins, 1997; Fuchs, 2001; Berndt-Ersöz, 2008: 17–19; Sams, 2011: 611–612� See note 11 above� See Roller, 2011: 563, 566–567.

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The Mita from the time of Sargon has been often identified with the quasi-historical Midas of Phrygia from the Greek tradition,61 and the dates suggested by the Greek chronographers have been used for dating the reign of this king� The dates 742–696 (or 738–695) given by Eusebios seem clearly suitable, and the other dating of Midas’ death to 676–4 could be equally realistic� Since the Gimirrai were active in the Assyrian realm during Sargon’s reign, it would be possible that they attacked Phrygia and defeated this Midas/Mita at some time after Sargon’s death, either in 696/5 or 676–4 as the Greek dates seem to indicate�62 Naturally enough, traces of this attack have been sought in the archaeological record from Gordion the capital of Phrygia.63 For a long time it was believed that the attack was testified by a destruction layer between the Early and Middle Phrygian periods. This destruction was ascribed to the Cimmerians and consequently dated to the early 7th century, following the dates of Midas’ death either 696/5 or 676–4�64 A great burial mound near Gordion (Tumulus MM) containing a richly furnished burial chamber with the body of a 60–65 year-old man has been considered as the burial of Mita/Midas�65 The Assyrian sources, the Greek dates and the archaeological evidence seemed to make a perfect match�66

61

62

63

64

65

66

See the literature in the next note. But note the doubts of Sevin, 199: 97; and the variable solutions of Bossert, 1993; Berndt-Ersöz, 2008 and DeVries, 2011 discussed below. The date 696/5 has been preferred by Körte / Körte, 1904: 20–24, 98; Kroll, 1932: 1539; Young, 1982: 14; Barnett, 1982: 356; Hawkins, 1982: 422; 1997: 272; Mellink, 1991: 624, 626; Van de Mieroop, 2004: 257. The date 676–4 preferred by Lehmann-Haupt, 1921: 413–414; Kammenhuber, 1976–1980: 594; Kristensen, 1988: 104–105; Ivantchik, 1993: 73–74; Röllig, 1997: 494 (dating the destruction to 674/3); Lebedynsky, 2004: 31� See Young, 1982; Prag, 1989; Mellink, 1991: 628–634; Kuhrt, 1995: 562–564, 566–567; Voigt / Henrickson, 2000; Kealhofer, 2005; DeVries, 2008; Voigt, 2007; 2011; 2013. First suggested by Young, 1955: 16. See especially Mellink, 1991: 628–629. It has been suggested that the alliance that Mita concluded with Sargon II was caused by the Cimmerian threat (Barnett, 1982: 356; Hawkins, 1982: 420–421), although there is no evidence to support this� The excavator R. Young initially doubted whether the tomb was that of the most famous Phrygian king because he assumed, according to the tradition, that the reign of Midas ended with the destruction of the city; but afterwards he accepted the identification (Young, 1982: 50–51; see Prag, 1989: 159). For the basis and the development of this construction see DeVries, 2011a.

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However, it is now clear that this set of identifications is not sustainable, at least insofar as the archaeological evidence is concerned� New investigations at Gordion have established that the destruction layer dates from around 800 and therefore cannot be linked either to the Mita from the time of Sargon or to the raids of the Gimirrai recorded in Assyrian sources from that time� Mita may have ruled and the Cimmerian invasion could have taken place during the following Middle Phrygian (YHSS 5) period ranging from ca 800 until the Persian conquest, but during that time there are no clear signs of destruction, although some decline in Phrygia had been noticed from the mid-7th century onwards�67 Neither can the great burial mound (Tumulus MM) belong to the late 8th century Mita because it is securely dated to ca 740, which is about a half of a century before the presumable date of the death of Mita�68 A destruction layer has also been noted from Sardeis, but this again seems to be considerably earlier than the dates suggested for the invasion by literary sources, and its connection with the Cimmerians is therefore hardly possible�69 We have therefore no archaeological confirmation for the destruction of either Gordion or Sardeis caused by the Cimmerians� An additional problem is presented by the fact that, although the Gimirrai appear in Assyrian sources as early as the time of Sargon II, there is no indication of their attacks against central or western Anatolia at that time� The Gimirrai are recorded from Tabal only in 679, at which time Muški was clearly a great power allied to them with nothing indicating any conflict between Muški and the Gimirrai. The first evidence for the attacks against western Anatolia comes from the time of Assurbanipal and Gugu in the 660s, which is considerably later than the recorded activity of the 8th century Mita� Nor does the evidence for these attacks conform to the Greek dates 696/5 or 676–4 for the death of Midas�

67

68 69

The best updated survey of the archaeological evidence from Gordian is given by Voigt, 2013: 186–199 (the Early Phrygian period ca 900–800), 194–195 (the destruction level ca 800), 199–217 (the Middle Phrygian period ca 800–540); but see also Voigt–Henrickson, 2000: 48, 51–52; Voigt, 2005: 2007, 2011; DeVries, 2005; 2008: 30–33; Voigt / DeVries, 2011. The decline in the monumentality of the burials noted by Sams, 2011: 612–613� DeVries, 2008: 33–34. See Drews, 2004: 109 and 185 n� 28� A royal tomb at Karniyarik Tepe, probably already robbed in antiquity, has been ascribed to Gyges by scholars�

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As this evidence does not favour the traditional view that the Gimirrai destroyed the power and caused the death of Mita the opponent of Sargon, scholars have looked for different solutions� Some scholars have associated the Cimmerian invasion with Mita the ‘city lord’ from the time of Assarhaddon, identifying him as the Midas perishing as a result of the Cimmerians’ attack�70 Susanne Berndt-Ersöz suggests in her recent study that the Greek tradition distinguished between two figures called Midas from the period in question, corresponding to the two Mita from the Assyrian sources who were mistakenly identified by Strabo and the sources following him� The dates 696/5 and 676–4, neither of which is exactly correct, were, according to Berndt-Ersöz, intended to mark the deaths of these two persons: the date 696 pertains to the 8th century Mita, identical to the Midas from the Greek tradition who reputedly committed suicide by drinking the blood of bull but had nothing to do with the Cimmerians; while the date 676–4 pertains to Mita the ‘city lord’ from the time of Assarhaddon who is the Midas whom the Cimmerians defeated�71 Keith DeVries, on the other hand, rejects the Greek chronological evidence as unreliable, supposes that the view of Midas’ death as resulting from the Cimmerian invasion was a rationalising assumption from Stabo, and concludes that the real Midas, the contemporary of Sargon II, had no connection to the Cimmerians�72 In all this discussion there has often been some voluntarism in combining the Assyrian sources and the Greek tradition, caused, as it seems, by a failure to wholly understand the nature of the Greek evidence, particularly the chronographic record� This has caused the misuse of the Greek dates, or an unnecessary rejection of the chronological evidence as useless. This question clearly requires clarification.73 The Greek chronologies The early dates given by Greek chronographers are neither exactly correct figures nor haphazard inventions, but reasonable reconstructions by the

70 71 72 73

Bossert, 1993; Parker, 1995: 28–31; Lebedynsky, 2004: 31. Berndt-Ersöz, 2008: 11, 17–19, 25–26� DeVries, 2011b. For discussion of the Greek datings for Midas and the Cimmerian invasion see especially Geltzer, 1875: 249–264; Mosshammer, 1977: 1979, 218–225; Bossert, 1993; Ivantchik, 1993: 69–73; Berndt-Ersöz, 2008; DeVries, 2011b. It goes without saying that I am in many respects indebted to them�

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ancient scholars based on evidence usually derived from poetry and traditional accounts� The synchronisms and sequences arrived at according to this evidence came afterwards, probably not before Timaios of Sicily in the late 4th or early 3rd century,74 linked to the list of the Olympic winners which produced absolute dates for the events� The dates we can gather from the sources are, consequently, the product of research by the ancient scholars, which cannot be more reliable than the evidence these scholars could have used� As the evidence for the Greek Archaic age (before the Persian Wars) consists of quasi-legendary traditions and scarce and often vague statements of the poets, we can hardly expect precise dates for that period. On the other hand, it would be unjustified to dismiss the Greek chronological evidence out of hand� The understanding of the calculations the dates were based on can indicate the evidence which was available for the ancients and, possibly, bring us closer to an understanding of the historical events� There is no reason to doubt that in the present case the principal basis for the calculations was the list of the Lydian kings, and the lengths of the reigns assumed by Herodotos and the later writers (see the table below)�75 At some point in time these lengths of reigns were added to the date 547/6 for the end of Kroisos and the Persian conquest of Lydia, which allowed the calculation of absolute dates for the kings� The date 547/6 may have become known to the Greeks through the work of Berossos�76 When the durations of the reigns given by Herodotos would be counted back from 547/6, the 38 years of rule he gave for Gyges would be dated to 717–679 and the 49 years of his son Ardys to 679–630� Later Greek chronographers assumed slightly shorter reigns, producing slightly different dates for these kings: the Canon of Eusebios dates Gyges to

74

75

76

See Christesen, 2007: 277–289. Profound and balanced discussion of the Greek chronological evidence is given, besides Christesen, by Jacoby, 1902 and Mosshammer, 1979 who view this as a reasonable reconstruction, not a set of confusions and misunderstandings (so Shaw, 2003)� Herodotos does not establish the absolute dates for the Lydian kings, but gives the lengths of the reigns of every ruler (I 14.4, 16.1, 25.1, 86.1). The date was apparently unknown to the early 3rd century author of Marmor Parium when the fall of Kroisos was probably dated ca 640� See Mosshammer, 1979: 260–262� Whether the date corresponds exactly to the historical truth (see Kuhrt, 2010: 50 no. 1.16 with n. 5; Räthel, 2015) is of little importance for the present discussion because, even if it was, the lengths of the rulers added to it were wrong (see below) and could not produce absolute dates for the rulers�

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700–664 and Ardys to 663–627, and there is evidence from other slightly different chronologies�77 Herodotos Gyges Ardys Sadyattes Alyattes Kroisos

38 years (717–680) 49 years (679–631) 12 years (630–619) 57 years (618–562) 14 years (561–547)

Euseb� Canon (Jerome) 36 (699–664) 37 (663–627) 15 (626–612) 49 (611–563) 15 (562–547)

Euseb� Series regum78 36 (705–670) 48 (670–623) 15 (622–608) 45 (607–563) 15 (562–547)

Euseb� Arm� 32–33 Karst 35 (687–654) 37 (653–617) 5 (616–612) 49 (611–563) 15 (562–547)

We cannot tell how these lengths of reigns producing these absolute chronologies were arrived at,79 but they certainly do not correspond to the truth� Gyges whose death falls on 679 according to Herodotos and on 665/4 according to the Canon of Eusebios was still alive in the 650s, as testified by Assyrian sources.80 This shows that both Herodotos and the later chronographers had assumed too long durations for the reigns and consequently dated the kings too early� However, this was the evidence the ancient chronographers had and could rely on� The dating of the Cimmerian invasion must have been calculated according to this framework, combined with evidence from

77

78

79

80

For the full evidence and discussion of the Greek sources on the dating of Lydian kings see, above all, Gelzer, 1875: 299–244; Kaletsch, 1958: 1–25� This chronology is likely to follow Xanthos of Lydia. We know from Clemens, Strom. I 131 that Xanthos dated the foundation of Thasos to Ol 18 (708–5); this foundation was, as Clemens recognises, connected to the poet Archilochos, and Archilochos was known as being a contemporary of Gyges. It seems, therefore, that the start of the reign of Gyges according to Xanthos fell to Ol 18, which corresponds perfectly with the present chronology� For discussion of the reason for Herodotos’ datings see, e�g�, Strasburger, 1956: 140– 151; Miller, 1963: 118–127; Den Boer, 1967: 53–57; Drews, 1969; Mazetti, 1978: 175; Ivantchik, 1993: 108–113; Burkert, 1995. Cogan / Tadmor, 1977: 78–79 n. 25; Spalinger, 1978: 405. Ivantchik, 1993: 104–105; Lebedynsky, 2004: 33� Earlier writers (Gelzer, 1875: 262–263; Lehmann-Haupt, 1912: 1964; 1921: 416; Kaletsch, 1958: 30) settled upon the date given for Gyges’ death by the Armenian version of Eusebios, which is relatively close to the date suggested by the Assyrian evidence (this dating is supported by Sauter, 2000: 234 based on the Assyrian evidence)� But there is no reason to suggest that the writer of Eusebios’ Armenian version had more reliable evidence than his predecessors, and thus no reason to regard the closeness of his date of Gyges’ death to the reality as anything but coincidence�

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poetry and tradition. The ancients knew of no list of the Phrygian kings which could have reached down to a firmly dated historical period and could have been used for dating Midas. It is therefore reasonable to assume that the dates for the death of Midas were calculated on the basis of the lists of the Lydian kings� The following discussion should demonstrate that this was indeed the case� Herodotos gave two indications for dating Midas and the Cimmerian invasion� First, he noted that Midas made dedications at Delphi earlier than Gyges, which obviously suggests that Midas predates the Lydian king�81 And second, he noted that the Cimmerians sacked Sardeis at the time of Ardys the son of Gyges�82 As has been already noted, the Greek tradition knew about one great wave of Cimmerian invasion into Anatolia taking place at the time of Ardys� Therefore, if Midas had perished as a result of a Cimmerian attack he must have perished during this movement, thus at the time of Ardys� These indications are obviously contradictory because, with Midas ruling before Gyges, he could hardly have perished during the reign of Gyges’ son� However, both these indications were assumed as the basis for the calculations by the ancients and, naturally, produced different dates� Eusebios dated Midas to 742–696 (or 738–695)�83 That the date of his death 696/5 was also viewed as that of the Cimmerian invasion is indicated by the fact that, according to Clement of Alexandria, the poet Archilochos was dated after that year because one of his poems had mentioned the destruction of Magnesia�84 The destruction was ascribed

81

82 83

84

Hdt. I 14.2: Οὗτος δὲ ὁ Γύγης πρῶτος βαρβάρων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν ἐς Δελφοὺς ἀνέθηκε ἀναθήματα μετὰ Μίδην τὸν Γορδίεω, Φρυγίης βασιλέα (‘this Gyges was, as far as we know, the first among the barbarians after Midas the king of Phrygia making dedications at Delphi’)� Herodotos might have relied here on the Delphic tradition, as suggested by Sauter, 2000: 91� Hdt. I 15. These slightly varying dates come from the Latin translation of Jerome (Euseb� Chron� 89b, 92b Helm: 742–696) and the Armenian translation (Euseb� Chron� 182, 184 Karst: 738–795)� The discrepancy is probably caused by the different transmissions of the Eusebian evidence� Clemens, Strom. I 131 stating the date after the 20th Olympiad, thus from 696 (the first year of the 21st Olympiad): … τὸν ᾿Αρχίλοχον μετὰ τὴν εἰκοστὴν ἤδη γνωρίζεσθαι ὀλυμπιάδα. μέμνηται γοῦν καὶ τῆς Μαγνήτων ἀπωλείας προσφάτως γεγενημένης (‘… Archilochos has been dated after the twentieth recorded Olympiad: for he mentioned the destruction of the Magnetans which had recently taken place’ – the passage quoted

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to the Treres who were believed to have ravaged the city not long after the attack of the Cimmerians�85 The dating of Archilochos after 696, thus after the Cimmerian attack, was therefore perfectly natural� The date of the Cimmerian invasion and the death of Midas in 696/5 falls suitably on the beginning of the reign of Gyges according to Eusebios’ Canon� The Canon places the accession of Gyges to 699, the second year of the 20th Olympiad, and the death of Midas to 696, the first year of the 21st Olympiad, thus to the fourth year of Gyges�86 Eusebios thus assumed that the reigns of Midas in Phrygia and of Gyges in Lydia followed each other, positing a near synchronisation of the death of the Phrygian and the accession of the Lydian king, in full concordance with the evidence of Herodotos that Midas of Phrygia preceded Gyges.87 On the other hand, as noted more than a century ago by Heinrich Gelzer, there was another dating of Midas’ death, placing it at 676–4� The evidence is circumstantial� There were several Christian chroniclers who synchronised the death of Midas with the rule of the Judean king Amon (Amos)�88 Amon was usually assigned 2 years of rule (as indicated in the Biblical Book of Kings),89 and there was a chronology which dated his first year exactly 100 years after the first Olympiad (776), placing his

85 86

87 88

89

in full in note 108)� The relevant verses of Archilochos have survived – fr� 20 West: κλαίω τὰ Θασίων, οὐ τὰ Μαγνήτων κακά (‘I weep for the woes of the Thasians not the Magnetans’)� See above, with notes 33–40� The date 696 for Archilochos was thus also in concordance with the fact that the poet had mentioned Gyges in his verses (fr� 19 West) and consequently could not have been dated before the reign of the Lydian king, which this chronology dated to 699–664� As noted by Ivantchik, 1993: 72. This is testified by four Byzantine chroniclers: Kedrenos, 1.195: Μετὰ δὲ Μανασσῆν ἐβασίλευσεν ᾿Αμὼς υἱὸς αὐτοῦ ἔτη δύο. κατὰ τούτους τοὺς χρόνους Μίδας ὁ Φρυγίας βασιλεὺς ἐτελεύτησεν, ὅντινα ἔλεγον ὦτα ἔχειν ὄνου; Symeon Logothete, 36: ᾿Αμὼς υἱὸς Μανασσῆ τὸν πατέρα διαδεξάμενος βασιλεύει ἔτη β′. κατὰ τούτους τοὺς χρόνους Μίδας τῆς Φρυγίας βασιλεὺς ἀπέθανεν, ὅντινα τοῖς τότε καιροῖς ὄνου ὦτα ἔχειν ἔλεγον; the same in an anonymous in Anecd. Paris. 2.264; Georg. Hamart. Chron. Breve: 110.292: Μετὰ δὲ Μανασσῆν ἐβασίλευσεν ᾿Αμὼς, (ὁ) υἱὸς αὐτοῦ, ... ἔτη β′. Κατὰ τούτους τοὺς χρόνους Μίδας ὁ Φρύγιος ἐγνωρίζετο ..., ὅντινα ὦτα ἔχειν ὄνου ἔλεγον. See Gelzer, 1875: 252 n. 6; Bossert, 1993: 289–290; Berndt-Ersöz, 2008: 7–8; DeVries, 2011b: 49–51� These chroniclers assumed that Amos reigned for 2 years, differently from Eusebios who assigned him 12 years. In the latter case the death of Midas was synchronised with the beginning of Amos’ reign� Kings 2: 21�19�

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rule consequently to 676–4�90 This must have been, consequently, also the date for the death of Midas� That this year was seen as the date for Midas much earlier than these Christian chronographers is demonstrated by a combination of data from Hellanikos, a Greek historian from the late 5th century, and Sosibios, a Spartan chronographer and antiquarian from the Hellenistic period�91 Hellanikos synchronised Midas with the famous Lesbian poet Terpandros, the first winner of the Karneian festival at Sparta,92 and Sosibios dated the establishment of the Karneia festival to the 26th Olympiad, thus to 676–3,93 which implies this as the date for both Terpandros and Midas� A similar dating for Midas implied by Sosibios and indicated by the Christian chronographers is hardly a coincidence, but suggests that there was indeed a chronology dating the death of Midas to ca 676–4� The question would be, how was this date arrived at? It might have been based on the supposed date of the first Karneian festival, which might have produced the date for Midas the reputed contemporary of Terpandros the first Karneian winner: the festival might simply have been placed 100 years after the celebration of the first Olympiad in 776,94 or Sosibios might have had some local Spartan evidence for dating the Karneian festival�95 The artificial character of the date for Midas would be obvious in this case: even if the rough synchronism between Midas and Terpandros was sound, and Sosibios had had adequate evidence for dating the first Karneia—

90

91 92

93 94 95

The Byzantine chronographer Synkellos 372 testifies that Julius Africanus (3rd century CE) synchronised the first year of the Judean king Ahaz with the 1st Olympiad at 776� Counting from this date, the reigns of Ahaz (16 years), Hezekiah (29 years) and Manasse (55 years; thus 100 years for the three kings), as given in the Biblical Book of Kings, we arrive at the date 676 for the first year of Amon. This was indeed the way three of the four Christian chronicles (Symeon Logothete, the anonymous in Anecdota Parisi and Georg. Hamart. Chron. Breve – see note 88) worked it out (see the discussion in Gelzer, 1875: 240–241, 252 n. 6; Berndt-Ersöz, 2008: 10; DeVries, 2011b: 49–51). Kerdenos, on the other hand, dated the first year of Amon, and thus the death of Midas, to 661 (for which see below, with note 98)� For the date of Sosibios see Figueira, 2016: 50–52� Hellanikos, FGrHist 4 F 85 a (Terpandros as the first winner in Karneia; note also [Plut.] Mus. 9, ascribing to Terpandros the first ‘establishment’ of music in Sparta) and F 85 b (the synchronism of Terpandros and Midas)� Sosibios, FGrHist 595 F 3� Mosshammer, 1977: 126� As implied by Jacoby, 1902: 148, and Forrest, 1963: 172�

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something we cannot be certain about96—this could still have given only a very average date for Midas’ death because there is no reason to assume that an exact synchronism between the first Spartan festival and the events in Asia was testified. On the other hand, the date for Midas could have been the primary one in this synchronism and the date of the first Karneia concluded from it; there is circumstantial but apparently convincing evidence suggesting that this was the case� When comparing the date 676–5 to the chronologies of the Lydian kings, it can be easily seen that it falls on the early years of Ardys according to Herodotos whose evidence dated Ardys to 679–630�97 The reign of Ardys was indeed the period when the Cimmerians reputedly ravaged Sardeis. If Midas was supposed to have perished as a result of this invasion, and the date of his death was calculated according to the chronological evidence of Herodotos, it must have naturally fallen to this time� That the ancients really calculated in this way is suggested by still another dating of the Cimmerian invasion and the death of Midas, the evidence for which can be gathered from the combined evidence of Kerdenos, one of the Christian chronographers syncronising the death of Midas with the reign of Amon of Judea, and Eusebios� Kedrenos dated the first year of Amon, and thus the death of Midas, to 661.98 The Canon of

96

97

98

The real date of Terpandros, uncertain as it is, is hardly helpful. He probably flourished around the middle of the 7th century: besides the first Karneia (676) he was dated to 645 (Marm. Par. ep. 34) or 641 (Euseb. Chron. 96 Helm), probably because his poetry reputedly helped to resolve an internal crisis in Sparta (Diod. VIII 28; Philod. De mus. 1. fr. 30. 31–35 (p. 18 Kemke); 4. pap. Hercul. 1497 col. xix 4–19 (pp 85ff Kemke); Zenob. 5.9; Suda s.v. Μετὰ Λέσβιον ᾠδόν) which was identified with the crisis at the time of the Second Messenian War during which the poet Tyrtaios was invited for the same purpose (Arist. Pol. 1306b 22ff; Paus. IV 15.6; Schol. Plat. Nom. 629 a; Suda s.v. Tyrtaios)� The beginning of the war was dated, according to one version, to 644 (see Kõiv, 2001: 329–337; 2003: 265) which was probably the reason for dating Terpandros to this time (for alternative suggestions see Mosshammer, 1979: 229–230)� This dating for Amos, and thus for Midas, probably derives from the Late Roman chronographer Julius Africanus (see note 90), but was clearly based on the Herodotean chronology of the Lydian kings� Suda, s�v� Alkman dated this poet to the time of Ardys at Ol 27 (672–69)� Alkman was indeed synchronised with the Cimmerian invasion at 658–7 (see below), and the dating to Ol 27 follows the same synchronism, here dated according to the chronology of Herodotos� Kedrenos synchronised the first year of the Judean king Joatham with the first Olympiad at 776 and assigned 115 years to his descendants before Amos (16 years to Joatham, 16

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Eusebios, on the other hand, dates the first year of Amon four years later to 657 and notes the foundation of Istros at the mouth of Danube in the same year�99 The reign of Amos marked the death of Midas for the Christian chronographers, while the foundation of Istros was believed to have taken place when the Cimmerians invaded Asia�100 Both instances indicate the Cimmerian invasion, and their appearance during the same year cannot be incidental�101 The date 657 in Eusebios is one olympiad (4 years) later than the date of Midas in Kerdenos, which is likely to be caused by the slightly different adjustment of the same chronological record�102 The basic calculation was the same, indicating a dating of the Cimmerian invasion and the death of Midas during the years 661–57� The years 661–57 fall suitably within the early reign of Ardys according to the chronology of Eusebios’ Canon where the king was dated to 663–627� All this cannot be incidental. It indicates that the years 661–57 indeed marked a date for the death of Midas which was, like the date 676–4, seen as that of the Cimmerian invasion during the early years of Ardys� The different absolute dates were produced by the different chronologies of the Lydian kings: the date 676–4 was calculated according to the chronology of Herodotos and the date 661–657 according to the chronology in Eusebios’ Canon�103

99

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for Ahaz, 29 for Hezekiah and 55 for Manasse, following the Biblical Book of Kings), which produces the date 661 for the first year of Amos. Jerome, 95a–b Helm: Ol 30.4 (657) = the first year of Amon, Histrus ciuitas in Ponto condita; Armenian, 185 Karst: Ol 31.1 (656) = the first year of Amon. Ps.-Skymnos, 767: Πόλις ῎Ιστρος ἀπὸ τοῦ ποταμοῦ λαβοῦσα τοὔνομα. Ταύτην τὴν πόλιν Μιλήσιοι κτίζουσιν, ἡνίκα Σκυθῶν εἰς τὴν ᾿Ασίαν στράτευμα διέβη βαρβάρων τὸ Κιμμερίους διῶκον ἐκ τοῦ Βοσπόρου. Eusebios diverged from the later chroniclers (and from the Biblical Book of Kings) assigning to Amon 12 years instead of 2, and seems to have synchronised the Cimmerian invasion, and implicitly the death of Midas, with the first year of the Judean king. Eusebios equated the first year of Joatham with Ol 2 (either with the last year of Ol 1 (773) as in Jerome 87 Helm, or with the first year of Ol 2 (772) as in the Armenian version, 181 Karst) instead of Ol 1 as Kerdenos did (see note 98 above)� This confirms that the death of Midas and the rule of Amos (or the beginning of it if more than 2 years was assigned for the king) were indeed synchronised by the Christian chronographers. The real date of Amos/Amon was probably 641–640 (see van der Veen, 2013: 177), which may indeed correspond to the Cimmerian attack against Phrygia. It might be that tradition had recorded some connection between Amon and the Cimmerians, but it seems more probable that, when the Christian chronographers synchronised the Hebrean stemmas from the Bible with the lists of the eastern kings from the

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On the other hand, there were some Greek poets attached to these synchronisms� The date 676–4 appears as that of Terpandros according to Sosibios,104 the Lexicon of Suda synchronised Alkman with the Lydian king Ardys and dated the poet to 672–69,105 while Eusebios notes the poets Alkman and Lesches at the year 658–7�106 These dates clearly mark the early years of Ardys according to the chronologies of Herodotos and of the Canon of Eusebios� Moreover, we have seen that Archilochos was dated, according to Clement of Alexandria, after the year 696, thus after the earlier date of the Cimmerian invasion and the death of Midas in the Canon of Eusebios�107 Clemens indeed viewed all these poets as more or less contemporaries of each other,108 quite naturally given their synchronisation to Midas and the Cimmerians�

104 105

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Classical tradition, the date of the Cimmerian invasion and the death of Midas happened to fall on the first year of Amos. And as both Midas and Amos were linked to the Lydian chronologies, which from the time of Herodotos formed the skeleton of the chronological record of the east, they moved together according to the different lists, assuming various lengths of reigns for the Lydian kings� Above, with note 93� Suda, s�v� Alkman� The absolute date at Ol 27 (672–69) clearly falls in the reign of Ardys according to Herodotos, and almost corresponds to the date for Terpandros and Midas calculated according to this chronology� They appear one year earlier, at 658, which is however a common variation: Jerome, 95a–b Helm: Ol 30�3 (658) = Alcmeon clarus habetur et Lesches Lesbius; Armenian, 185 Karst: Ol 30�3 (658) = Lesches and Alkmeon� See above with note 84, and the next note. Clemens, Strom. I 131 discussing the chronology of these poets and quoting different authors from various relative chronologies� This included the statement of Hellanikos that Terpandros was the contemporary of Midas, and the notion that Archilochos mentioned the Cimmerian destruction of Magnesia. ναὶ μὴν καὶ Τέρπανδρον ἀρχαΐζουσί τινες· ῾Ελλάνικος γοῦν τοῦτον ἱστορεῖ κατὰ Μίδαν γεγονέναι, Φανίας δὲ πρὸ Τερπάνδρου τιθεὶς Λέσχην τὸν Λέσβιον ᾿Αρχιλόχου νεώτερον φέρει τὸν Τέρπανδρον, διημιλλῆσθαι δὲ τὸν Λέσχην ᾿Αρκτίνῳ καὶ νενικηκέναι· Ξάνθος δὲ ὁ Λυδὸς περὶ τὴν ὀκτωκαιδεκάτην ὀλυμπιάδα (ὡς δὲ Διονύσιος, περὶ τὴν πεντεκαιδεκάτην) Θάσον ἐκτίσθαι, ὡς εἶναι συμφανὲς τὸν ᾿Αρχίλοχον μετὰ τὴν εἰκοστὴν ἤδη γνωρίζεσθαι ὀλυμπιάδα. μέμνηται γοῦν καὶ τῆς Μαγνήτων ἀπωλείας προσφάτως γεγενημένης. Σιμωνίδης μὲν οὖν κατὰ ᾿Αρχίλοχον φέρεται, Καλλῖνος δὲ πρεσβύτερος οὐ μακρῷ· τῶν γὰρ Μαγνήτων ὁ μὲν ᾿Αρχίλοχος ἀπολωλότων, ὃ δὲ εὐημερούντων μέμνηται· The exact meaning of the passage is debatable (see Mosshammer 1977, 111–118), but it clearly proceeds from the presumption that these poets were roughly contemporaries (the disagreement between the different authorities in the relative dating concerns the details) and lived very close to the time of Midas and the Cimmerian invasion�

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The reasons for this synchronism, both between the poets and with the Anatolian events, could be revealing� Terpandros might have mentioned something concerning either Midas or the Cimmerians in his poems, although no evidence for this has survived� Alkman was reputedly a Lydian from the ‘rocky Sardeis’, as testified by his own verses, and could have been linked to this synchronism because he was supposed to have left Sardeis fleeing from the Cimmerian threat.109 For Archilochos we have firmer evidence, since Clement of Alexandria testifies that he was dated after the year 696 because one of his poems had mentioned the destruction of Magnesia, reputedly by the Treres slightly after the Cimmerian attack�110 On the other hand, Archilochos was synchronised with Homer111 who had mentioned the Cimmerians in his Odyssey112 and was reputed to have composed the epigram on the tomb of Midas113; he was quite naturally dated by chronographers to the time of the Cimmerian invasion or soon after it�114 The synchronisation of Homer and Archilochos, both seen as contemporaries of the Cimmerian invasion, was therefore natural�115 Homer, on the other hand, was known as a contemporary of Lesches, with whom he either had a poetic competition or who had witnessed the competition between him and Hesiod,116 which could have been the very reason for dating Lesches to the time of the Cimmerian invasion� There were thus obvious reasons for dating Homer and Archilochos to the time of Midas and the Cimmerian invasion� For the other poets

109 110 111

112 113 114

115

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Alkman, fr. 16 PMGF; see Mosshammer, 1979: 218–225. See above, with note 84� Tatian, Ad Graecos 31: ἕτεροι δὲ ... σὺν ᾿Αρχιλόχῳ γεγονέναι τὸν ῞Ομηρον εἰπόντες· For additional evidence see Kõiv, 2011: 365–370. Od. XI 14. See above with note 55� Strab. I 1.10; 2.9 (stating explicitly that the dating was given by the chronographers: οἱ χρονογράφοι δηλοῦσιν ἢ μικρὸν πρὸ αὐτοῦ [῾Ομήρου] τὴν τῶν Κιμμερίων ἔφοδον ἢ κατ› αὐτὸν ἀναγράφοντες – ‘the chronographers testify recording the Cimmerian invasion either slightly before him [῾Homer] or at his time’); Eustath. Od. XI 14. There were of course also many other datings of Homer (see especially Jacoby, 1902: 98–107; Kõiv, 2011: 358–361) which, however, do not concern us here� The synchronism was probably supported by the belief that the famous song contest between Homer and Hesiod (Certam� Hom� Hes� 3) took place during the Lelantine War between the Euboian poleis Chalkis and Eretreia, and that the war was referred to by Archilochos (fr. 3 West). See Kõiv, 2011: 357–358, 365–370. Plut. Mor. 153f–154a. See Kivilo, 2011: 99; Kõiv, 2011: 363.

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the reason for this synchronisation cannot be firmly established, but the synchronism itself is beyond reasonable doubt� Notably, the poets were linked to the dates of these events calculated according to all the three chronologies we have noted (Archilochos linked to 696, Terpandros and Alkman to 676–4, and Alkman and Lesches to 661–57), supporting the conclusion that all these dates were intended to mark the Cimmerian invasion and the death of Midas� Conclusion: The Greek evidence, and the Cimmerians in western Anatolia We have thus three different dates for the Cimmerian invasion and the death of Midas deriving from three different chronologies and assuming different synchronisms between Midas and the kings of Lydia� The date 696/5, explicitly stated by Eusebios, was calculated on the assumption that Midas ruled slightly earlier than Gyges, and that the death of Midas roughly coincided with the accession of Gyges� Two other dates, which can be inferred from the chronographic evidence, were arrived at on the presumption that Midas perished as a result of the Cimmerian attack at the time of Ardys the son of Gyges, and were calculated according to two different chronologies of the Lydian kings: the date 676–4 falls to the early years of Ardys according to chronological data of Herodotos, and the date 661–57 according to the chronology in Eusebios’ Canon. In all these cases it was assumed that Midas perished in connection with the Cimmerian invasion� None of these dates could have been calculated before the year 547/6 for the end of Kroisos was established for the Greeks, which was hardly the case before Berossos�117 The date 676–4 could have been transmitted by the 3rd century CE Christian chronographer Julius Africanus,118 but hardly calculated by him� We noted that the year was known to the Hellenistic scholar Sosibios as the date of the first Karneian festival at Sparta. Sosibios surely knew that the winner of this festival was Terpandros whom Hellanikos had synchronised with Midas. He thus dated the first Karneia to the year of Midas’ death which must, consequently, have been established by this time by adding the regnal years of the Lydian kings

117 118

See note 76 above� See note 90 above�

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according to Herodotos to the date of the fall of Kroisos provided by Berossos� The other dates were probably calculated later� When Eusebios dated Midas before Gyges he inevitably abandoned the synchronisation with Ardys, but there is no reason to assume that he believed that this Midas was distinct from the one perishing as a result of the Cimmerians’ attack, as Berndt-Erzös suggests� Although Midas was a notoriously ambivalent figure in Greek legend, there is still no evidence suggesting that the Greeks would have distinguished between two historical figures called Midas during the late 8th and the first half of the 7th century�119 Nor is there any reason to suppose that the assumption that Midas killed himself as a result of the Cimmerian attack was based on a misunderstanding or bad hypothesis from Strabo� Strabo clearly refers to some other people, implying that this was a widespread assumption during his time�120 Moreover, the “chronographers” dating Homer to the time of the Cimmerian invasion, referred to by Strabo, clearly predated him, and the “Contest of Homer and Hesiod” mentioning that Homer composed the epigram for the tomb of Midas,121 which was hardly independent from his supposed synchronism with the Cimmerians the causers of Midas’ death, was probably based on the work of the 4th century writer Alkidamas�122 This suggests that the story was known in the Classical period� Strabo must have

119

120

121 122

Herodotos, I 35.3, 45.3 mentions Midas the grandfather of a Phrygian Atys coming to the court of Kroisos, presumably in the 550s� Herodotos does not indicate the position of this Midas, but he might have regarded him as a Phrygian king, whom Berndt-Ersöz identifies with Mita the city lord. However, Herodotos can be careless in his chronological indications and we cannot exclude the possibility that even if he believed this Midas to be a Phrygian king he meant the same ruler whom he elsewhere (I 14.2) had placed before Gyges (see Kõiv, 2003: 260–261). If, however, we take his evidence at face value we should assume that this Atys the grandson of Midas perishing in his prime in the 550s was born ca 590, and the birth of his father would scarcely fall before 630, which would be too late for a son of Mita perishing in the 640s at the latest (but perhaps in the 660s)� Strab. I 3.21: ἡνίκα Μίδαν αἷμα ταύρου πιόντα φασὶν ἀπελθεῖν εἰς τὸ χρεών (‘which was the time when Midas is said to have come to his death by drinking bull’s blood’)� The Chronographers referred to in I 2.9 (quoted in note 114). For the epigram see note 55. See West, 1967: 433–438; Kivilo, 2010: 20–24� The epigram was probably known to Simonides (the early 5th century) who ascribed it to Kleobulos the ruler of Lindos on Rhodes (Simonides, fr. 76 [581 Loeb]); the earliest quotation comes from Plato (Phaidros, 264d) who did not indicate authorship� There is, of course, no reason to assume that that the epigram was really composed by Homer� What matters is that the ancients believed this�

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followed a traditional account, and I can see no reason to doubt that this account presented a legendary reflection of a real historical occurrence. From everything that has been stated it is obvious that none of the dates which classical sources give for Midas and the Cimmerian invasion can correspond exactly to the historical truth. These dates clearly cannot be straightforwardly linked to evidence from Assyrian sources, and cannot indicate the correct dates of the events� This, however, does not discredit the Greek tradition concerning the Cimmerian invasion, which conforms to the Assyrian evidence in the main points and shows that the traditionallybased accounts of the Greeks were capable of preserving and transmitting the main course of events� Both Assyrian and Greek sources indicate the invasion of central and western Anatolia during a relatively short period. The Assyrian texts note the Gimirrai in Tabal during the reign of Assarhaddon and place the two waves of the invasion of Lydia at the time of Assurbanipal, roughly 665–640, while the Greek tradition telescoped these two waves into a single attack and placed this in the time of the Lydian king Ardys whose involvement with the Cimmerians is confirmed by the Assyrian evidence (the son of Gugu seeking help against the Gimirrai)� This tradition was probably sustained by the verses of Kallinos mentioning the sacking of Sardeis by the Cimmerians and possibly indicating some connection between this attack and Ardys� One of these two attacks probably destroyed the power of Midas/Mita of Phrygia/Muški, although extant Assyrian sources do not record this event. The attacks are not testified by the archaeological evidence, not surprisingly if one considers that the Cimmerians probably contended with pillage, without besieging and conquering cities and strongholds�123 It is impossible to establish which of the two westward attacks recorded in the texts of Assurbanipal caused the destruction of Midas/Mita, and thus to decide if he perished in the 660s when the Gimirrai first attacked Gugu, or in the early 640s when Gugu’s son asked for help from the Assyrian king� Nor does the evidence indicate the relation between Mita of Muški from the time of Sargon and Mita the ‘city lord’ from Assarhaddon’s time� The latter might indeed have perished during the attacks at the time of Assurbanipal, and he might or might not have been identical to the Mita from the time of Sargon. If these two are to be identified, this Mita could have perished during the first wave of invasion and reigned ca 720–665, thus for ca 55 years, which would be

123

See Drews, 2004: 116�

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a long but not impossible period of rule� Or there might have been two different Mita, both possibly Phrygian kings, in which case it was probably the latter one who was defeated by the Cimmerians, either in ca 665 or in the early 640s. In such a case, the Greek tradition simply conflated these rulers into one great legendary figure.

Abbreviations ABL – Harper, R. F., Assyrian and Babylonian Letters. Chicago 1892–1914. AJA – American Journal of Archaeology ANES – Ancient Near Eastern Studies ANET – Ancient Near Eastern texts relating to the Old Testament, ed. J. B. Pritchard, Princeton, NJ, 1969. AOAT – Alter Orient und Alter Testament AS – Anatolian Studies BZAW – Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft ClAnt – Classical Antiquity CAH – The Cambridge Ancient History CQ – Classical Quarterly CSCA – Californian Studies in Classical Antiquity FGrHist – Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, ed� F� Jacoby� Berlin–Leiden� 1923–1958� IstMitt – Istanbuler Mitteilungen JHS – Journal of Hellenic Studies JAOS – Journal of American Oriental Studies PMGF – Poetarum Melicorum Graecorum Fragmenta vol I: Alcman, Stesichorus, Ibycus (post D. L. Page ad. M. Davies). Oxford. 1991. RE – Real-Enzyclopädie der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft RhM – Rheinisches Museum für Philologie RLA – Reallexikon der Assyriologie Rose – Aristotelis qui ferebantur librorum fragmenta, coll. V. Rose. Stutgardiae 1886, repr� 1966� SAA – State Archives of Assyria VDI – Vestnik Drevnei Istorii West – Iambi et elegi Graeci ante Alexandrum cantati, 2nd ed. 2 vols, ed. M. L. West. Oxford 1989–1992.

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Bibliography Adalı, S. F., 2011: The Scourge of God: The Umman-manda and Its Significance in the First Millennium BC� SAAS 20� Helsinki� Aro-Valjus, S., 1999: “Gugu”. The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Vol. 1. Part II, 427–428. Barnett, R. D., 1982: “Urartu”. CAH Vol. III Part 1. Pp. 314–371. Berndt-Ersöz, S., 2008: “The chronology and historical context of Midas”. Historia 57, 1–37� Bossert, E�-M�, 1993: “Zum Datum der Zerstörung des phrygischen Gordion”� IstMitt 43, 287–292. Burkert, W�, 1995: “Lydia between east and west or how to date Trojan war: a study in Herodotus”. In J. B. Carter / S. P. Morris (eds.): The Ages of Homer. Austin. Pp. 139–148. Burn, A. R., 1935: “The dates in the early Greek history”. JHS 40, 130–146. Christesen, P., 2007: Olympic Victor Lists and Ancient Greek History. Cambridge, etc� Cogan, M� / Tadmor, H�, 1977: “Gyges and Ashurbanipal� A study in literary transmission”� Orientalia 46, 65–85� Cunliffe, B�, 2008: Europe Between the Oceans. Themes and Variations: 9000 BC – AD 1000. New Haven / London� Den Boer, W�, 1967: “Herodot und die Systeme der Chronologie”� Mnemosyne 20, 30–60� DeVries, K., 2005: “Greek pottery and Gordion Chronology”. In Kealhofer, 2005, 36–55� — 2008: “The age of Midas in Gordion and beyond”� ANES 45, 30–64� — 2011a: “The creation of the old chronology”. In C. B. Rose / G. Darbyshire (eds�): The New Chronology of Iron Age Gordion. Philadelphia. Pp. 13–22. — 2011b: “Textual evidence and the destruction level”. In C. B. Rose / G. Darbyshire (eds�): The New Chronology of Iron Age Gordion. Philadelphia. Pp. 49–57. Dickie, M., 1995: “The geography of Homer’s world”. In Ø. Andresen / M. Dickie, M� (eds�): Homers World. Fiction, Tradition, Reality. Bergen. Pp. 29–56. Drews, R., 1969: “The fall of Astyages and Herodotus’ chronology of the eastern kingdoms”� Historia 18, 1–11� — 2004: Early Riders. New York / London� Forrest, W. G., 1963: “The Date of the Lykourgan Reforms in Sparta”. Phoenix 17, 157–179� Fehling, D�, 1985: Die Sieben Weisen und die frühgriechische Chronologie. Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Studie. Bern / Frankfurt am Main / New York� Figueira, T., 2016: “Politeia and Lakōnika in Spartan historiography”. In T. Figueira (ed�): Myth, Text, and History at Sparta. Gorgias Press. Pp. 7–104.

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Fuchs, A�, 2001: “Mita”� The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Vol. 2. Part. II, 755–756. — 2010: “Gyges, Assurbanipal und Dugdamme/Lygdamis: Absurde Kontakte zwischen Anatolien und Ninive”. In R. Rollinger (Hrsg.): Interkulturalität in der Alten Welt: Vorderasien, Hellas, Ägypten und die vielfältigen Ebenen des Kontakts. Wiesbaden. Pp. 409–427. Gelzer, H., 1975: “Das Zeitalter des Gyges”. RhM 30, 230–262. Hawkins, J. D., 1982: “The Neo-Hittite states in Syria and Anatolia”. In CAH Vol. III Part. 1, Pp. 372–441. — 1997: “Mita”. RLA VIII, 271–273. Heidel, A., 1956: “A new hexagonal prism of Essarhaddon (676 B.C.)”. Sumer 12, 9–37, Taf� 1–12� Hellmuth, A�, 2008: “The chronological setting of the so-called Cimmerian and early Scythian material from Anatolia”� ANES 45, 102–122� Huxley, G. L., 1966: The Early Ionians. London� Ivantchik, A. I., 1993: Les Cimmériens au Proche-Orient. Göttingen� Jacoby, F�, 1902: Apollodors Chronik (Philologische Untersuchungen 16)� Berlin� — 1930: FGrHist II D (Kommentar zu Nr. 106–261). Berlin. Kaletsch, H�,1958: “Zur Lydischen Chronologie”� Historia 7, 1–47� Kammenhuber, A., 1976–80: “Kimmerier”. RLA V, 594–596. Kealhofer, L�, (ed�), 2005: The Archaeology of Midas and the Phrygians: Recent Work at Gordion. Philadelphia. Kiel, J., 1937: “Treres”. RE Hb. 12 (NR), 2291. Kivilo, M�, 2010: Early Greek Poets’ Lives: The Shaping of the Tradition. Leiden / Boston� — 2011: “The early biographical tradition of Homer”. In T. R. Kämmerer (ed.): Identities and Societies in the Ancient East-Mediterranean Regions: Comparative Approaches. AOAT 390/1. Münster. Pp. 85–104. Körte, G� / Kärte, A�, 1904: Gordion. Ergebnisse der Ausgrabung im Jahre 1900� Jahrbuch des kaiserlich deutschen archäologischen Instituts� Kristensen, A� K�, 1988: Who were the Cimmerians and where did they come from? Sargon II, the Cimmerians, and Rusa I. Copenhagen� Kroll, W., 1932: “Midas”. RE Hb. 30, 1526–1540. Kõiv, M., 2001: “The dating of Pheidon in antiquity”. Klio 83, 327–347. — 2003: Ancient Tradition and Early Greek History: The Origins of States in Early-Archaic Sparta, Argos and Corinth. Tallinn� — 2007: “Cimmerians in the Western Anatolia: A Chronological Note”. In T. R. Kämmerer (ed�): Studies on Ritual and Society in the Ancient Near East� BZAW 374. Berlin / New York. Pp. 153–170. — 2011: “A note on the dating of Hesiod”� CQ 61, 355–377� Kuhrt, A., 1987–90: “Lygdamis”. RLA VII, 186–189.

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— 1995: The Ancient Near East c. 3000–330 BC. London / New York� — 2010: The Persian Empire: A Corpus of Sources from the Achemenid Period. London / New York� Lanfranchi, G� B�, 1990: I Cimmeri. Emergenza delle élites militari iraniche nel Vicino Oriente (VIII–VII sec. a.C.). Padova. Lanfranchi, G. B. / Parpola, S., 1990: The Correspondence of Sargon II. Letters from the Northern and Northeastern Provinces. Helsinki� Lebedynsky, I., 2004: Les Cimmériens. Les premiers nomades des steppes européennes IX–VII siècles av. J.-C. Paris. Lehmann-Haupt, C., 1912: “Gyges”. RE Hb.14, 1956–1966. — 1921: “Kimmerier”. RE Hb. 21, 397–434. Mazetti, C., 1978: “Voprosy Lidiyskoi chronologii”. VDI 2, 175–178. Mellink, M., 1991: “The native kingdoms of Anatolia”. CAH Vol III Part 1, 619–665. Miller, M�, 1963: “Herodotus as chronographer”� Klio 46, 109–128� Mosshammer, A. A., 1977: “Phainias of Eresos and chronology”. CSCA 10, 105–132. — 1979: The Chronicle of Eusebius and Greek Chronographic Tradition. Lewisburg / London� Parker, V., 1993: “Zur griechischen und vorderasiatischen Chronologie des sechsten Jahrhundertes v� Chr� unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Kypselidenchronologie�” Historia 42, 385–417� — 1995: “Bemerkungen zu den Zügen der Kimmerier und der Skythen durch Vordenasien”. Klio 77, 7–34. Podlecki, A. J., 1984: The Early Greek Poets and Their Times. Vancouver. Prag, A. J. N. W., 1989: “Reconstructing Midas: a first report”. Anatolian Studies 39, 159–165� Räthel, M., 2015: “Das Datum der Eroberung von Sardeis”. In T. R. Kämmerer / M. Kõiv (eds.): Cultures in Comparison: Religion and Politics in Ancient Mediterranean Regions. AOAT 390/3. Münster. Pp. 131–142. Röllig, W., 1997: “Muški, Muski.” RLA VIII, 493–495. Roller, L. E., 1983: “The legend of Midas”. ClAnt 2, 299–313. — 2011: “Phrygia and the Phrygians”. In S. S. Steadman / G. McMahon (eds.): The Oxford Handbook of Ancient Anatolia 10000–323 BC. Oxford. Pp. 560–578. Sams, G. K., 2011: “Anatolia: the first Millennium B.C.E. in historical context”. In S. S. Steadman / G. McMahon (eds.): The Oxford Handbook of Ancient Anatolia 10000 – 323 BC. Oxford. 604–622. Sauter, H�, 2000: Studien zum Kimmerierproblem. Bonn� Sevin, V., 1991: “The Early Iron Age Elaziğ region and the problem of the Mushkians”� AS 41, 87–97� Shaw, P.-J., 2003: Discrepancies in Olympiad Dating and Chronological Problems of Archaic Peloponnesian History. Stuttgart�

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Gyges Between East and West1 Adam Howe

Introduction The presence of Gyges of Lydia in both Greek literature and the royal annals of the Assyrian king Assurbanipal is significant, as the Lydian king could be described as the first historical ‘character’ to appear in both Mesopotamian and Greek literary traditions� When the Annals of Assurbanipal were first published in 1870,2 classicists immediately noted the presence of Gyges (written mgu(-ug)-gu in Akkadian and Γύγης in Greek) who had long been known to them from Herodotus and other classical authors� Heinrich Gelzer’s 1875 article in the Rheinisches Museum established a chronology for the sources and assessed their implications for Lydian and Greek history�3 Gelzer himself had the training to work directly with the cuneiform material and adopted a critical approach to the Greek sources�4 Unfortunately, subsequent studies followed a trend of compartmentalizing Greek and Oriental sources� Most later works which touch on the history of Gyges were written by scholars who, in the words of Walter Burkert, “perceived [the field of Assyriology] as a foreign continent”.5 Even a recent introduction to the study of Lydia relies primarily on Greek sources with nothing more than an acknowledgement of the existence of

1

2 3 4 5

I wish to express my gratitude to Johannes Haubold (Durham University), who supervised the dissertation upon which this paper is based� Rawlinson / Smith, 1870. Gelzer, 1875� Burkert, 2004: 42� Burkert, 2004: 43� For an overview of these works and their limitations, see Burkert, 2004: 43–45�

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the Assyrian sources, although this is perhaps unsurprising given their relative inaccessibility�6 In this paper I aim to give equal weight to the portrayal of Gyges in both the Greek and the Assyrian sources. I shall look at how the portrayals of him fit into the wider intellectual frameworks within which the sources were composed, and therefore the role which the figure of Gyges plays in each culture’s way of thinking about the world. In this way, I hope to distinguish the aspects of his portrayal which are merely literary tropes from those which are more likely to be based on historical realities� While this will allow me to draw out some ‘truths’ about the historical figure of Gyges, it will become clear that this approach is just as valuable for understanding the textual traditions within which the sources were produced. I begin with a brief overview of his reign, as most general histories would present it�7 Gyges was the founder of the Mermnad dynasty, the final dynasty to rule the Lydian kingdom, and reigned in the first half of the seventh century bc� Faced with the threat of Cimmerian invasion, he pursued diplomatic ties with Nineveh and later aided the Egyptian king Psammetichus I in his war of independence against Assyria. At the same time, he interacted with the Greek world, attacking and occupying some of the Greek cities of Asia Minor and sending lavish gifts to the oracle at Delphi� The Greek Sources The Greeks were fascinated by Gyges, and the story of his usurpation of Candaules and accession to the throne of Lydia is recounted in several versions by Herodotus, Plato, Plutarch, Xanthus, and others. Gyges was perhaps most famous among the Greeks for his wealth, to which we find references in the works of Archilochus and Herodotus and which provided a further source of fascination for the Greek audience. In this respect, his position in Greek thought is much like that of Midas, the Anatolian ruler who preceded him in history, and Croesus, his descendant and the last ruler of Lydia before the Persian conquest. However, there was more to the Greek conception of Gyges than his wealth, and the stories of his accession to the throne reveal much about Greek beliefs surrounding monarchy, gender roles, the barbarian, and the Oriental� Due to the

6 7

Payne / Wintjes, 2016. The following summary is based on Mellink, 1991: 644–646�

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uncertain dating and origin of other sources, my discussion will primarily focus on the account of Herodotus and references to Gyges in the poems of Archilochus� Archilochus was writing closest in time to the reign of Gyges� A native of Paros,8 he cannot be dated precisely but his poetry allows us to ascertain that he was a contemporary of Gyges�9 One of his poems refers to Gyges by name (fr� 19 West) and at least one other poem may be about him (fr� 23 West)� Fr� 19 references the wealth of Gyges,10 which suggests that this was proverbial already in Gyges’ lifetime� The same poem also contains the very earliest use of the word τυραννίς in Greek.11 Either the word had already become well integrated into the Greek language,12 and therefore Archilochus’ audience would have understood it, or it was still being applied only to Gyges�13 Thus, the characteristics of wealth and tyranny were associated with Gyges at an early stage of Greek literary production� According to the account of Gyges’ reign from the beginning of Herodotus’ Histories,14 Candaules, the king of Lydia, believed his wife to be the most beautiful woman in the world� He therefore suggests that Gyges, one of his bodyguards, hide in his bedroom to see the queen undressing� Gyges protests against such a lawless act,15 but ultimately he must obey his master� However, when the plan is carried out the following night, the queen sees Gyges and immediately ‘understands that her husband is responsible’�16 She does not react at the time but summons Gyges the following day and presents him with two options: either he must die, or he must kill the king and take his place as ruler and husband�

8 9 10 11

12 13

14

15

16

Burnett, 1983: 15� Jacoby, 1941: 98–99� Fr. 19, 1: Γύγεω τοῦ πολυχρύσου, ‘Gyges of much gold’. Fr. 19, 3: μεγάλης δ’ οὐκ ἐρέω τυραννίδος, ‘I do not desire great dominion (for myself)’. Cf� Strauss Clay, 1986: 13; Dunbabin, 1957: 58� Dunbabin, 1957: 59� That Gyges was historically the first tyrant is reported by the poet Euphorion of Chalcis (fr� 1 FGrH III). Both the Etymologicum Gudianum and the Etymologicum Magnum suggest as one possibility that the term originated with Gyges, since he was from the city of Tyrrhas and was the first of his kind. Cf. Drews, 1972: 137–8. I work throughout with the text of Wilson, 2015b. Translations are my own, unless otherwise stated� Hdt. 1.8.4: σέο δέομαι μὴ δέεσθαι ἀνόμων, ‘I ask you not to ask (of me) something lawless’� Hdt. 1.10.2: μαθοῦσα δὲ τὸ ποιηθὲν ἐκ τοῦ ἀνδρὸς.

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Gyges protests once again, but eventually chooses to save his own life� With the queen’s help, he murders Candaules in ‘the very same place’17 where the previous crime took place� Gyges then takes to the throne and secures his rule by appeal to the Delphic oracle� Herodotus goes on to describe Gyges’ offerings to Delphi and his attacks on Greek cities, but concludes that ‘no other great deeds’18 occurred in Gyges’ thirty-eightyear reign� The narrative then moves on to his successor, Ardys� When considering the position of the Gyges narrative within the Histories, it is apparent that it carries programmatic significance. The opening myths of abduction are reported with scepticism, as if Herodotus is parodying earlier historians like Hecataeus, while the list of Lydian kings preceding Candaules (1�7) lacks structure and thus mirrors the limited historical understanding of the period�19 As the subject of the first extended narrative in the Histories and the ancestor of Croesus, whom Herodotus regards as the first barbarian to significantly encroach on the Greek world, Gyges stands “on the brink of real history”�20 His inclusion therefore reflects Herodotus’ aim of relating well-researched history rather than mythologized narratives of the distant past� The narrative also serves to indicate, at the outset of the work, how Herodotus wants his audience to read the work as a whole. It is surprising that Herodotus never questions Gyges’ motivations and apparent lack of initiative, but he must have expected his politically engaged readership to see through the fiction, thus providing them with a form of entertainment and education�21 Similarly, the Gyges story serves to introduce the tragic tone which underlies the rest of the Lydian logos and the Histories as a whole: for example, the decision made under duress when Gyges is confronted by Candaules’ wife is a distinctly Aeschylean motif�22 In addition to its programmatic role in introducing Herodotus’ method and literary style, the Gyges story also introduces some of the wider themes of the entire work. These include, for example, the nature of tyranny, the relationship between king and subject, the significance of sight, and the role of women in society. I will consider a few of these themes here.

17 18 19 20 21 22

Hdt. 1.11.5: ἐκ τοῦ αὐτοῦ . . . χωρίου. Hdt. 1.15.1: ἀλλ᾽ οὐδὲν γὰρ μέγα ἀπ᾽ αὐτοῦ ἄλλο ἔργον ἐγένετο. Flory, 1987: 28–30� Flory, 1987: 24� Danzig, 2008: 284� Chiasson, 2003: 7�

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The identification of Gyges with tyranny in a text from as close to his own time as Archilochus’ poem exemplifies the fact that, for the Greeks, he represented the archetypal Oriental tyrant. Indeed, he is the first of over fifty rulers described as tyrants to appear in Herodotus’ narrative.23 However, in Herodotus the descriptions of tyrants and their behaviour are not examples of objective historical inquiry but are based on a series of conventional themes�24 Despite being the archetypes for such tyrants, Gyges and his predecessor are nevertheless not immune from being reduced to conventional themes in Herodotus which primarily emphasize the excesses of the tyrant: excess of wealth, power, and erotic desire. As seen from his epithet in Archilochus fr� 19, the wealth of Gyges was famous already in his own time, and this image was perpetuated by subsequent Greek authors�25 Herodotus also refers to Gyges’ wealth in describing the Γυγάδας (1.14.3), the gold and silver dedicated by Gyges at Delphi in thanks for the oracle’s support for his claim to the throne� Gyges was even said to have donated more silver to Delphi than anyone else�26 Some have suggested that this is evidence that Gyges bribed the oracle�27 However, whatever the reason, it is clear that these dedications, which must have been seen by many Greeks if not by Herodotus himself, contributed to the Greek portrayal of Gyges and thus to the paradigm for the portrayal of other tyrants� Another feature of the tyrant is his excessive or inappropriate use of power. In the Gyges story this is particularly reflected in the relationship between master and subject�28 By violating his own wife’s propriety, Candaules is breaking the norms that Gyges tries to respect,29 although he must ultimately obey his master�30 For Herodotus, this represents all that is bad about absolute monarchy: the tyrant can do as he wishes, but

23 24 25 26 27 28

29

30

Gammie, 1986: 188� Gammie, 1986: 195� See Pedley, 1972: 18 for examples. Hdt. 1.14.1: ἔστι οἱ πλεῖστα ἐν Δελφοῖσι. Danzig, 2008: 183� Vivienne Gray (1995: 201) argues that the master-subject opposition is more prominent than that of gender in the interaction between Gyges and Candaules’ wife� Both, however, can be seen as reflexes of the Greek-barbarian opposition which is found throughout the Histories. Hdt. 1.8.3: Δέσποτα, τίνα λέγεις λόγον οὐκ ὑγιέα, ‘mistress, what you are saying is not a sound speech’� Gray, 1995: 202–203�

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the subject must obey the nomoi of society as well as his master, even when they are at odds. It is this hierarchy, which in theory did not exist in Athenian democracy, that leads Herodotus to view monarchy as “selfdefeating”�31 It allows subjects to usurp their masters, something which cannot happen in a society without masters� Candaules’ downfall can also be attributed in part to inappropriate erotic desire, and Herodotus’ language signals his disapproval of the unnatural extent of Candaules’ desire for his wife. In the Histories, the noun ἔρως occurs three times and the verb ἐράω eight times.32 Of these eleven occurrences, two refer to Candaules’ love for his wife;33 the remainder refer to illicit love or love of tyranny�34 In this way, Herodotus signals his belief that Candaules’ love goes far beyond that which is permitted by the natural order of things. It is therefore in punishment for this that he must die and that his dynasty’s rule over Lydia must come to an end� In Herodotus’ working of the story of Gyges’ rise to power we find many dichotomies: male-female; king-subject; democracy-tyranny; hearing-seeing; visibility-invisibility� However, they all fall under the umbrella of the Greek-barbarian discourse (the barbarian and tyranny, for example, are “inseparable concepts”35 in Greek thought) and are therefore symptomatic of Greek Orientalism� Normally, these conventionalized tropes would be a barrier to discerning anything about the historical figure behind an Orientalized tyrant, but my reading of Herodotus and Archilochus has demonstrated that, as far as the Greeks were concerned, Gyges was the archetype and originator of many of these tropes� The Assyrian Sources The Annals of Assurbanipal are, like the majority of Mesopotamian sources, relatively inaccessible to non-Assyriologists and have therefore been frequently overlooked in studies of Gyges and Lydia� Their underexploitation may be in part due to the fact that they are perceived as ‘inscriptions’� Although they can be considered as a form of building

31 32 33

34 35

Chiasson, 2003: 24� Davis, 2000: 641� Hdt. 1.8.1: ὁ Κανδαύλης ἠράσθη τῆς ἑωυτοῦ γυναικός, ἐρασθεὶς δὲ ἐνόμιζέ οἱ εἶναι γυναῖκα πολλὸν πασέων καλλίστην, ‘Candaules loved his own wife, and he loved her (so much that) he thought (his) wife to be by far the most beautiful of all women’� Davis, 2000: 641� Gray, 1995: 201�

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inscription, the Annals are not strictly annalistic in structure and contain many of the features that readers of classical and later texts would normally associate with ‘literature’�36 Indeed, in scope and ambition, the Annals are much closer to the work of Herodotus than to the sort of Greek inscriptions often encountered by the classical historian� The relevant sections of the Annals describe how Gyges sent an embassy to Assurbanipal, apparently offering submission to Assyria and seeking aid against the Cimmerians, whom he subsequently defeated; how he then betrayed Assyria and was punished; and how his successor restored Lydia’s state of submission�37 As with many other Mesopotamian compositions, the Annals of Assurbanipal exist in various recensions and these were composed at different points in his reign�38 The earliest recension (Prism E1) was composed a few years after Assurbanipal’s accession39 and, while the names of Gyges and Lydia are possibly lost in a lacuna,40 it speaks of the arrival of a messenger from a land into which no-one had previously travelled and whose language no-one knew. Unfortunately, this passage is very broken, and subsequent recensions heavily condense this event� The following recensions (The Large Egyptian Tablets, and Prisms B, C, D, and F, which are based upon them) contain a shorter, composite account of the early campaigns� Gyges and his kingdom are named in this version and it includes more details of the embassy, such as the threat of Cimmerian invasion� They also give a detailed account of a dream that Gyges claims to have seen in which the god Aššur appeared to him and commanded him

36

37

38

39

40

Spalinger (1974: 317) suggests that the Annals “might be more correctly described as works of literature than historic annals”, further demonstrating the rigid and compartmentalizing semantic range of our terminology� Gyges’ successor is named as Ardys in the Greek sources, but is not named in the Annals. It has been suggested that the use of ardu ‘servant’ in this context (Borger, 1996: 32, Prism A, Col. II, 125) is intended to pun on his name, but this is highly speculative. The chronology that follows is based on Fuchs, 2010 (especially useful is the table on p. 420). Various dates have been proposed for the different recensions (e.g., Spalinger, 1974 and Novotny, 2003) but only the order and the content, and not specific dates, are of concern to the present study� Spalinger, 1974: 317, 1978: 401. The first contact between Lydia and Assyria likely took place around 668–665 bc (Aro-Valjus, 1999: 428). The identification of the messenger’s home as Lydia is widely accepted because, although fragmentary, the dream account appears to be included� The name of Lydia is also partly preserved in Prism E2�

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to submit to Assurbanipal, and which only survives in a very fragmentary state in the earlier E Prisms. The latest recension (Prism A) dates to around 643/2 bc and represents an attempt “to present a complete and most eloquent account of Assurbanipal’s military achievements”�41 Its account of the events involving Gyges is based on those found in all earlier versions, but adds to this the moralizing account of his dealings with the rebellious Pharaoh Psammetichus and his death at the hands of the Cimmerians�42 I therefore concentrate mainly on the recension known as Prism A, as it is the most complete account of Gyges’ interactions with Assyria, and those known as Prism E, which contains details not found in other versions since it was composed closest in time to the arrival of the first Lydian embassy. It is important at the outset to understand the mental map generated by the scholars who compiled the Annals and the place of Lydia within it� The Annals describe the origin of the Lydian embassy as ‘a region on the other side of the sea’�43 It did not matter whether Lydia was actually located across the sea since this is the terminology that is consistently used for distant places in the traditional discourse of Assyrian ‘mental geography’�44 In the inscriptions of the Neo-Assyrian kings, the term nagû had come to mean, in general, any district or province,45 but the word carries far greater significance in this context, which can be drawn out by analogy with other texts. In the ‘Babylonian Map of the World’, a diagrammatic depiction of the world from a Babylonian perspective,46 the outer sea is surrounded by regions identified as nagû, and in the

41 42

43 44

45 46

Cogan / Tadmor, 1977: 77� The Saite kings did manage to throw off Assyrian control, perhaps with Lydian aid, shortly before the reunification of Egypt in 656 bc (Onasch, 1994: 158)� While it has been noted that there was apparently no strategic advantage to siding with Egypt (AroValjus, 1999: 428), we know that Gyges was already seeking out international diplomatic ties� Borger, 1996: 30, Prism A, Col. II, 95: na-gu-u2 ša ina ne2-bir-ti A�AB�BA� The Sargon Geography talks of “the lands across the Upper Sea” and “the lands across the Lower Sea” (Horowitz, 1998: 72–73, ll. 41–42) as proof of the extent of Sargon’s conquests. Wayne Horowitz (1998: 88) recognizes that the exact location of these places is of no concern to the author and neither should it be to the reader� The term ‘mental geography’ was first introduced to Assyriology by Piotr Michalowski (1986). E.g. CAD, Vol. N/I: 121–122. BM 62687 is a Late Babylonian copy of the Map, most recently edited by Horowitz (1988)�

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inscriptions of Nebuchadnezzar II most of the nagû are located ina qereb tâmti, ‘in the midst of the sea’�47 The compilers of the Annals likely had a similar meaning in mind, although the Lydian nagû is described as lying not ‘in the sea’ but ina nēbirti tâmti, ‘across the sea’. In this way, Assurbanipal’s deeds are situated in this wider tradition, but the discourse of expansion is taken to a further degree. When Assurbanipal talks of ‘a distant place which my royal ancestors had never heard mention of’,48 he is not only demonstrating how he has outdone the achievements of his direct predecessors,49 but he is also claiming to have transcended the limits of imperial space as set by the tradition surrounding the semi-legendary kings of Akkad. In this way, he both derives his legitimacy as ruler of the four corners of the world from the precedent of Sargon of Akkad and increases his glory by claiming to have transcended this precedent� Even in their very structure, the Annals create a conscious map of postSargonic empire, with little regard for chronology� Despite their modern designation as Annals,50 it is clear that the ordering of campaigns in the Annals is not in fact chronological but rather geographical�51 Prism A proceeds from Egypt (Col. I, 52 – Col. II, 48), along the Phoenician coast (Col. II, 49–95), and north into Lydia (Col. II, 96–125) and the land of the Mannaeans (Col. II, 126 – Col. III, 26). It then circles back to Elam and Babylon (Col. III, 27 – Col. VII, 82) before returning, via Arabia

47 48

49

50

51

Horowitz, 1988: 157� Borger, 1996: 30, Prism A, Col. II, 96: aš2-ru ru-u-qu ša LUGAL.MEŠ AD.MEŠ-ia la iš-mu-u2 zi-kir MU-šu2� For example, Sargon II emphasized that the peoples he conquered spoke various languages (Fuchs, 1994: 79, 49: li-ša2-nu a-ḫi-tu at-me-e la mit-ḫur-ti, ‘foreign languages, discordant speech’) and Esarhaddon describes the land of the Medes as distant and previously unknown (e.g. Leichty, 2011: 20, col. IV, 35–36: kurma-da-a-a ša2 a-šar-šu2-nu ru-u-qu ša ina LUGAL.MEŠ AD.MEŠ-ia / mi-ṣir KUR aš-šurki la ib-bal-ki-tu2-nim-ma la ik-bu-su qaq-qar-ša2, ‘the land of the Medes, whose location is distant and who, in (the time of) the kings my ancestors, did not cross the border of the land of Assur nor walk on its earth’)� According to the definitions set out by Hayden White (1987: 4–5), the Annals are not, in fact, annals. Rather, they conform to the model of narrative history since they possess an “order of meaning”, that is, a structure independent of (or, in this case, at the expense of) the chronological sequence� For example, we know that Assurbanipal campaigned against Qirbit in the first year of his reign (Luckenbill, 1926–1927: II, 290), but in Prism B this becomes his ‘fourth campaign’ (Borger, 1996: 94, Prism B, Col. III, 5: ina 4-e gir-ri-ia a-na uruqir-bit2?)�

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(Col. VII, 82 – Col. X, 50), to Nineveh, where the inscription is dedicated (Col. X, 51–120). The text therefore follows a clockwise path around the outer edges of the Assyrian empire before returning to its heartland� Within this textual journey, Lydia marks the westernmost place described. The ability to arrange geographic entities into a coherent vision of empire displays Assurbanipal’s knowledge of the world and his power over the physical and political landscape. Within this broader context, Gyges, as the king of a land beyond the edge of the standard model of Mesopotamian geography, becomes a test case for imperial rule: by claiming that he subjected Lydia, Assurbanipal emphasizes his transcendence of the traditional Sargonic model of imperial space� Overall, the Annals are about the power of the king to expand the empire and subjugate his enemies, converting them from a dangerous ‘other’ into civilized members of the Assyrian empire. At first glance, it even appears that Lydia and the Cimmerians have submitted to Assurbanipal’s control� However, once Gyges has defeated the Cimmerians, whether by his own means or with Assyrian help,52 he sends prisoners to Nineveh, which could be interpreted as tribute or diplomatic gifts� The truth appears to be slightly different from the picture that Assurbanipal wants to present to the audience of the Annals as he does not in reality exert full control over those lands which lie beyond the bounds of Sargonic imperial space� The most striking feature of the Lydian embassy to Nineveh is the account of Gyges’ dream in which the god Aššur appears to the Lydian king and urges him to seek help from Assurbanipal to defeat his enemies� Dream narratives are a common feature of Mesopotamian literature but most of the extant dream reports from royal inscriptions come from those of Assurbanipal (and later Nabonidus)�53 Gyges’ dream is another representation of the transcendence achieved by Assurbanipal� The gods of Assyria are now able to communicate with those who were not even aware of their existence and, in doing so, spread the name of Assurbanipal beyond his borders. The power of Aššur and Ištar in particular is displayed later in the narrative when they facilitate Gyges’ punishment for betraying

52

53

It is unclear from the Assyrian account whether Assurbanipal decided to send any help, and the brevity with which the matter is described suggests that there was little Assyrian involvement (cf. Aro-Valjus, 1999: 428). Carl Lehmann-Haupt (1912: 1959) supposed that Assyrian troops could have been sent to Lydia from the nearby provinces of Ḫilakku and Que, but there is no concrete evidence to support this� Oppenheim, 1956: 186�

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Assyria, a display so powerful that his successor immediately submits to Assyria on his accession� The fact that Gyges sees ‘the writing of my [i�e�, Assurbanipal’s] name’54 and then goes on to defeat the Cimmerians means that the dream also serves to “extoll the power of the mere name of the Assyrian king”�55 Cyril J. Gadd read the report of the dream as “the fiction of an ambassador”,56 suggesting that the shrewd diplomat had invented the dream to appeal to Assurbanipal’s special interest� However, it can be more simply understood as a creation of the Assyrian court designed to extol Assurbanipal’s transcendent power and imperial reach. Lydian relations with Assyria soured, however, when Gyges stopped sending messengers to Nineveh and sent forces to Psammetichus, who had rejected Assyrian rule�57 Gyges has thus committed a terrible sin in the eyes of the Assyrians, for ‘he trusted in his own strength’58 rather than bowing to the power of Assyria and its gods� For this he is punished by Aššur and Ištar, being killed by the very foe he had previously defeated with the help of those gods�59 In addition, the Cimmerians are now armed with the power of the name of the Assyrian king, the very weapon that

54

55 56 57

58 59

Borger, 1996: 30, Prism A, Col. II, 97: ni-bit MU-ia� The term nibītu can mean ‘pronunciation’ or ‘spelling’, but a visual rather than auditory sense is required here in combination with the use of the causative stem of the verb barû ‘to see’ rather than, for example, šemû, ‘to hear’� With this meaning, it also provides a parallel to the more commonly attested phrase šiṭir šumīya, ‘the writing of my name’ (cf. Reiner, 1995: 9). When the Cimmerians attack Lydia, the context demands that nibīt šumīya be understood as the ‘pronunciation of my name’, as there is no inscribed object involved (see below, n�59 and n�60)� The use of names therefore contributes to the narrative of transcendence, since Assurbanipal’s name can be made to be seen in a dream, but can only be heard when wielded by others� Oppenheim, 1956: 202� Gadd, 1948: 25n�5� Borger, 1996: 31, Prism A, Col. II, 111–112: lu2rak-bu-šu2 ša2 a-na ša2-ʾa-al šul-mi3-ia ka-a-a-an iš-ta-nap-pa-ra / u2-šar-ša2-a ba-ṭi-il-tu2, ‘he brought an end to his mounted messenger whom he had constantly sent to ask after my health’; 114–115: e-mu-qe2e-šu2 a-na kit-ri mpi-ša2-mi3-il-ki MAN KUR mu-ṣur / ša2 iṣ-lu-u2 gišŠUDUN EN-ti-ia iš-pur-ma ‘he sent his forces to help Psammetichus, king of Egypt, who had cast down the yoke of my lordship’� Borger, 1996: 31, Prism A, Col. II, 113: a-na e-muq ra-man-i-šu2 it-ta-kil-ma� Borger, 1996: 32, Prism A, Col. II, 119–20: lu2gi-mir-a-a ša2 ina ni-bit MU-ia ša2-palšu2 ik-bu-su / it-bu-nim-ma is-pu-nu gi-mir KUR-šu2, ‘the Cimmerians, whom he had [previously] trampled beneath him, invoking the pronunciation of my name, attacked and flattened his whole land’.

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Gyges wielded against them in the first place. In this way, Assurbanipal demonstrates the power and effective control that he and his gods have, even beyond the borders of Assyria, by using one chaotic foreign force to destroy another� Overall, however, most aspects of Gyges’ portrayal in the Annals are not unique to him and are in fact found in the actions of several named foreign rulers� Necho is equipped with the name of the Assyrian king to give him strength in battle;60 Šamaš-šuma-ukīn plots with the Elamite king to foment an uprising against Assyrian rule;61 and Lygdamis is struck down by the gods in the form of an illness after breaking his oath with Assyria�62 The idea that Gyges’ land and language were distant and previously unknown is a continuation of a trope found in the royal inscriptions of Assurbanipal’s predecessors, but Assurbanipal seeks to go further than any of them, especially in the context of his lack of major campaigns of conquest outside of the borders of the empire�63 The dream account, however, does make Gyges’ portrayal in the Annals stand out, as theophanic dreams are otherwise never attributed to a non-Assyrian� For this reason we can conclude that he and his land were seen as particularly exotic and interesting to the Assyrian audience. Conclusion The aim of my paper has been to analyse the portrayal of Gyges across two cultural streams in order to better understand the sources and their contexts. In this way, potential evidence about Gyges as a historical figure can be more accurately assessed� For the Greeks, Gyges ushered in new political forms� He was also seen as particularly ‘glamourous’, something reflected by Herodotus’ preoccupation with the visual aspects of his narrative, by his wealth which still made an impression on the Greek mind, and by the almost proverbial reference to him in Archilochus� Most importantly for Herodotus, he was the ancestor of the first non-Greek to subject some Greeks to tribute and

60

61 62 63

In this case, it is inscribed on a dagger. Cf. Borger, 1996: 23, Prism C, Col. III, 13–14: GIRI2.AN.BAR šib-bi ša2 iḫ-zu-šu2 KU3.SI22 / ni-bit MU-ia ina muḫ-ḫi aš2-ṭur-ma a-din-šu2, ‘an iron dagger (on) a belt set in gold, I inscribed the spelling my name upon it and gave it to him’� Borger, 1996: 39–41, Prism A, Col. III, 70–127. Borger, 1996: 196–197, Prism J, Stück 6, 34–43. Gelio, 1981: 208�

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make alliances with others�64 This represented the first time an outsider had seriously impacted on the Greek world (discounting the legendary abductions of Io and Helen) and it is for this reason that Gyges provides the natural starting point for Herodotus’ project: to record the deeds of Greek and non-Greek alike, and to discover the cause of the hostilities between them�65 For the Assyrians, on the other hand, Gyges became a test case for universal rule� His kingdom lay beyond the bounds of the established imperial geography as it was perceived in Assyria at the time, but the threat of the Cimmerians made him turn towards Nineveh� Assurbanipal’s scholars present this, however, as being prompted by Aššur whose power thus transcends his own realm� Despite this, Assurbanipal gives the impression that he has conquered Gyges in order to, himself, transcend the standard model of imperial space and to eclipse the achievements of his predecessors. In Assyrian eyes, Gyges and the Cimmerians who would later defeat him represented the chaos which existed in the lands not yet conquered and civilized by Assyria� The question therefore remains: why did Gyges, only a usurper in a relatively minor kingdom in western Anatolia, become such a focus of attention for the intellectual classes of cultures to the East and West, and what can this tell us about Gyges as an historical figure? For two cultures which would not come into more widespread and productive contact until some centuries after the death of Gyges, there are remarkable similarities in the way in which they thought about this king� Gyges appeared on the historical scene at the right time for his image to be appropriated by both cultures and he therefore became a figure onto whom both projected their ideological beliefs� While most of the commonalities across the two versions of Gyges’ story should be seen as coincidental, I

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65

Hdt. 1.6.2: τοὺς μὲν κατεστρέψατο Ἑλλήνων ἐς φόρου ἀπαγωγήν, τοὺς δὲ φίλους προσεποιήσατο. This appears to be contradicted by Herodotus’ own account of Gyges’ wars against the Greek cities of Asia Minor, and has been taken as evidence that the text as we have it does not represent the author’s intended final revision (Wilson, 2015a: 3). However we understand this, Gyges role in the Histories is clearly more than just a foreshadowing of the story of Croesus� Hdt. prol.: ἔργα μεγάλα τε καὶ θωμαστά, τὰ μὲν Ἕλλησι, τὰ δὲ βαρβάροισι ἀποδεχθέντα . . . τά τε ἄλλα καὶ δι’ ἣν αἰτίην ἐπολέμησαν ἀλλήλοισι, ‘great and wondrous deeds, produced by both Greeks and barbarians � � � including those, among others, which were the cause for their waging war’�

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believe that, when the narratives are situated within their cultural contexts, a few truths about Gyges himself emerge� First, that he must have been a usurper to the throne who then reached out to the international community in the West and the East in order to secure his position� Establishing contact with Delphi ensured that he was known to all of the Greek city-states, and the Assyrian sources attest to regular diplomatic correspondence between Nineveh and Sardis, as well as Gyges’ later alliance with Psammetichus in Egypt, which otherwise appears to have had no strategic benefit. Second, that he was wealthy (perhaps related to the development of the technology of coinage in Lydia) because he was able to send tribute to both Delphi and Nineveh, and because this is so strongly associated with him and his successors in the Greek tradition� Finally, that his support for Egypt and the subsequent collapse of Assyria meant that he and his successors had to align themselves more with the Greek West, as the rest of his dynasty appear extensively in the Greek sources, while his successor receives only a brief and anonymous reference in the Assyrian sources� The case of Gyges demonstrates the possible advantages and the limitations of combining evidence from Eastern and Western sources� By reading his portrayal as a product of the cultural context in which each set of sources was produced, it is possible to broaden our understanding of a figure whose own culture left relatively few written records�

Abbreviations CAD The Assyrian Dictionary of the University of Chicago� Chicago 1956–2010� FGrH Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker. Berlin 1923–�

Bibliography Aro-Valjus, S., 1999: “Gūgu or Guggu”. In K. Radner (ed.): The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Vol. 1, Part II. Helsinki. Pp. 427–428. Borger, R., 1996: Beiträge zum Inschriftenwerk Assurbanipals� Wiesbaden� Burkert, W�, 2004: “Gyges to Croesus: Historiography Between Herodotus and Cuneiform”. In A. Paraino / A. Piras (eds.): Schools of Oriental Studies and the Development of Modern Historiography. Melammu Symposia IV. Milan. Pp. 41–52. Burnett, A. P., 1983: Three Archaic Poets: Archilochus, Alcaeus, Sappho� London�

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Chiasson, C� C�, 2003: “Herodotus’ use of Attic tragedy in the Lydian Logos”� Classical Antiquity 22, 5–35� Cogan, M� / Tadmor H�, 1977: “Gyges and Ashurbanipal: A Study in Literary Transmission”� Orientalia N�S� 46, 65–85� Danzig, G., 2008: “Rhetoric and the ring: Herodotus and Plato on the story of Gyges as a politically expedient tale”. Greece & Rome 55, 169–192� Davis, M., 2000: “The tragedy of law: Gyges in Herodotus and Plato”. The Review of Metaphysics 53, 635–655� Drews, R., 1972: “The First Tyrants in Greece”. Historia 21, 129–144. Dunbabin, T�J�, 1957: The Greeks and their Eastern Neighbours� London� Flory, S�, 1987: The Archaic Smile of Herodotus� Detroit� Fuchs, A�, 1994: Die Inschriften Sargons II. aus Khorsabad� Göttingen� — 2010: “Gyges, Assurbanipal und Dugdammē/Lygdamis: Absurde Kontakte zwischen Anatolien und Ninive”. In R. Rollinger / B. Gufter / M. Lang / I. Madreiter (eds�): Interkulturalität in der Alten Welt: Vorderasien, Hellas, Ägypten und die vielfältigen Ebenen des Kontaktes. Philippika 34. Wiesbaden. Pp. 409–428. Gadd, C� J�, 1948: Ideas of Divine Rule in the Ancient East� London� Gammie, J� G�, 1986: “Herodotus on Kings and Tyrants: Objective Historiography or Conventional Portraiture?” JNES 45, 171–195. Gelio, R., 1981. “La délégation envoyée par Gygès, roi de Lydie. Un cas de propaganda idéologique”. In F. M. Fales (ed.): Assyrian Royal Inscriptions: New Horizons in Literary, Ideological and Historical Analysis. Rome. Pp. 203–224. Gelzer, H., 1875: “Das Zeitalter des Gyges”. Rheinisches Museum 30, 230–268. Gray, V., 1995: “Herodotus and the Rhetoric of Otherness”. The American Journal of Philology 116, 185–211� Horowitz, W., 1988: “The Babylonian Map of the World”. Iraq 50, 147–165� — 1998: Mesopotamian Cosmic Geography� Winona Lake� Jacoby, F�, 1941� “The Date of Archilochus”� CQ 35, 97–109� Lehmann-Haupt, C. F. F., 1912. “Gyges”. In G. Wissowa (ed.): Paulys Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft. Vol. VII. Stuttgart. Pp. 1956–1966. Leichty, E�, 2011� The Royal Inscriptions of Esarhaddon, King of Assyria (680– 669 BC)� Winona Lake� Luckenbill, D� D�, 1926–1927: Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylonia� 2 vols� Chicago� Mellink, M�, 1991: “The Native Kingdoms of Anatolia”� The Cambridge Ancient History� 2nd ed. Vol. III, Part 2. Cambridge. Pp. 619–665. Michalowski, P., 1986: “Mental Maps and Ideology”. In H. Weiss (ed.): The Origins of Cities in Dry-Farming Syria. Guildford, Conn. Pp. 120–156.

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Novotny, J. R., 2003: “Zaḫalû-Metal for Marduk’s Paramāḫu and the Date of Assurbanipal’s E-prisms”� Orientalia N�S� 72, 211–215� Onasch, H.-U., 1994. Die assyrischen Eroberungen Ägyptens. Ägypten und altes Testament 27� 2 vols� Wiesbaden� Oppenheim, A. L., 1956: “The Interpretation of Dreams in the Ancient Near East. With a Translation of an Assyrian Dream-Book”. TAPA 46, 179–373. Payne, A. / Wintjes, J., 2016: Lords of Asia Minor: An Introduction to the Lydians. Wiesbaden� Pedley, J., 1972: Ancient Literary Sources on Sardis� Cambridge, Mass� Rawlinson, G. / Smith, G., 1870: The Cuneiform Inscriptions of Western Asia. Vol. 3. London� Reiner, E., 1995: Astral Magic in Babylonia. Philadelphia. Smith, G�, 1871: History of Assurbanipal� London� Spalinger, A� J�, 1974: “Assurbanipal and Egypt: A Source Study”� JAOS 94, 316–328� — 1978: “The Date of the Death of Gyges and Its Historical Implications”. JAOS 98, 400–409� Strauss Clay, J�, 1986: “Archilochus and Gyges: an interpretation of fr� 23 West”� QUCC 24, 7–17� White, H�, 1987: The Content of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation� Baltimore� Wilson, N� G�, 2015a: Herodotea: Studies on the Text of Herodotus. Oxford. — 2015b� Herodoti Historiae. 2 vols. Oxford.

The Great Conflict over the Levant (612–562 BC) and its consequences for the Greeks Liviu Mihail Iancu

Introduction The Oriental influence over Greek artistic and literary motives, ideas and religious beliefs and practices, based on the identification of many similarities between the two cultural sets, is nowadays established and fully recognised, although a lengthy path had to be made from Poulsen’s controversial work of 1912 to the consensually celebrated books of Burkert and West, in 1992 and 1997 respectively, which I see as benchmarks for the admission of the counter-theory to the hypothesis of the “Greek miracle”—the birth of a great civilization out of nothing� Nevertheless, the second phase of the process of establishing the relationship between the East and the Greeks at the dawn of the Hellenic civilization, that of identifying the carriers of cultural influences and encompassing the full range of contacts between Greeks and Easterners, does not run so smoothly1� Especially when it comes to contact between Greeks and people of Mesopotamia, some scholars adhere to a minimalist view—either a reminiscence of the “Greek miracle” perspective, or the consequence of an overly prudent attitude towards extracting information from few and highly debatable sources2�

*

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2

Supported by funds of the University of Bucharest, the Doctoral School Mobility Programme. I thank Adam Rabinowitz, who significantly improved my English. Raaflaub, 2004: esp. 197; Ebbinghaus, 2006: 217; van Dongen, 2007; van Dongen, 2008. The historiographical turn from finding objects and proving contacts to analyzing contexts and explaining these contacts in terms of carriers, reasons, value, etc., is underscored by Morris, 2006: esp� 66–67� Helm, 1980; Graham, 1986; Kuhrt, 2002; van Dongen, 2008: 237, etc�

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One of the assumptions prevailing among these scholars is that Greek awareness towards the events developing in the East was low, as testimonies in ancient Greek written sources are quasi-inexistent and the archaeological record of Greek presence in the Levant does not allow one to draw definitive conclusions pointing to an intensive character3. I assume that most of this logic is based on an argumentum ex silentio, which will probably be discarded by new discoveries� Until then, a reappraisal of existing sources might be carried out in order to discover kernels of information which were not spotted at first glance� Walter Burkert and Giovanni Lanfranchi are the pioneers of finding evidence for the Greek well-informed awareness of the Assyrian expansion in the Near East between the 9th and 7th centuries BC4� Although some of their ideas and reconstructions might not be convincing in detail, the general perspective of well-informed Greek elites about the activities of the Assyrians in the East and Egypt is attractive as it is strengthened by independent studies which prove, for example, that some Greeks visited the Assyrian (or at least North Syrian) palaces5� In the present paper I wish to follow up Burkert’s and Lanfranchi’s development, but with regard to a specific event, later than the Assyrian domination on the eastern shores of the Mediterranean: the great conflict between Babylon and Egypt over the Assyrian heritage in the Levant� My first objective is to draw a partially new outline of the conflict, stressing in particular the strategies of the two great contenders and the events with great importance for the Greek presence in the East. Rather surprisingly, besides the Oriental sources, some Greek sources are of the utmost significance in the reconstruction of the events. My second objective is to assess whether the Greeks knew about the conflict, through what means they did know and, if possible, what they did know� Comparing the results

3 4 5

E�g� Helm, 1980: 226–228; 314, 315–316� Cf Lanfranchi, 2011: 228� Burkert, 1976; Lanfranchi, 2011: 222–228� Lorimer, 1950: 429 n� 1; Gordon, 1962: 275; West, 1997: 419–420; Cook, 2004� Cf� Burkert, 1992: 118–119 with a similar hypothesis in order to explain the resemblances between the depictions of war scenes in the Iliad and the Annals of Sennacherib, resemblances which occur in graphical depictions of battles, too, as emphasized by Ahlberg, 1971: 71–106� See Burkert, 2004: 48–49 on other cultural, intellectual and institutional items probably borrowed by the Greeks from the East, especially from Assyria, possibly, but not necessarily, through Lydia� For similar borrowings from Babylonia, see Morris, 2006: 77�

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of the two inquiries provides a good basis for methodological reflection over the preserved knowledge of archaic Greek history� 1. The conflict 1.1 The first phase – The Assyrian decline and heritage (636–605 B.C.) The decline and the end of the Assyrian empire is a notoriously difficult phenomenon to reconstruct because of the lack of documents from the last years of Assurbanipal’s four-decade reign� While the Babylonian chronicles provide good information about the struggle east of the Euphrates after 626 BC, we are left without any significant Mesopotamian documents regarding the western territories of the Assyrian empire between cca� 640–635 and 605 BC6� More or less, the Mesopotamian story is one of revolts and attacks conducted by the Babylonian subjects and the former Median vassals of the Assyrian empire. Nabopolassar, the first Neo-Babylonian king, started as an Assyrian-appointed commander of southern Babylonia7, while Kyaxares, the Median king who destroyed the great cities of Assyria, was the son of Phraortes, killed in battle by Assurbanipal (Hdt. 1.95.2; Hdt. 1.102.2). In the reign of Sin-šarru-iškun (627–612 BC) there were almost yearly campaigns that opposed the Assyrians with their former subjects and vassals� There are also clues that Assyria was weakened by succession fights between Assurbanipal’s descendants and generals8� The Levantine story shows a significant similarity. Egypt was lost by the Assyrians as Psammetichos I, one of the kinglets they appointed in the Nile Delta as bulwark against the Kushite threat, gradually united Egypt and renounced allegiance to Assyria, probably relatively early in his long reign9. Later on, he extended his domination over parts of the Assyrian

6 7

8

9

Oates, 1991: 163–166; Na’aman, 1991b: 35–36� The late evidence for this information should not be dismissed� See Jursa, 2007; Heller, 2010: 142–143 and Lanfranchi, 2013: 70–71� The succession of Assurbanipal is a much-contested topic in modern literature. I assume with prudence that the most probable reconstructions, in the light of the current evidence, are those proposed by Na’aman, 1991a and Liebig, 2000� Cf� Lipschits, 2005: 13, n� 39� The Rassam Cylinder (ARAB II, §785), dated ca. 643–642 BC, mentioning the military help given by Gyges to the rebel Psammetichos I, the wrath of Assurbanipal and, afterwards, the death of Gyges, provides a terminus ante quem of the rebellion somewhere between 652 BC (the traditional, but not unanimously accepted, date of Gyges’

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territory in the Levant10� On the other hand, it is very intriguing that there is no clear proof of any protracted confrontation between Egypt and Assyria similar to those between Babylon, Media and their former masters, neither in Mesopotamian nor in Egyptian or Biblical sources� Moreover, in 616 BC the Babylonian Chronicle reckons the Egyptian troops appearing on the Middle Euphrates were allied with Sin-šarru-iškun and opposed to Nabopolassar11� This alliance continued unabated until Harran, the last Assyrian stronghold, was definitively lost in 609 BC12� Thus, very unfortunately, almost nothing is known about how the Assyrians lost their possessions west of the Euphrates and how extensively the Egyptians took hold of them� There are some glimpses of a devastating Scythian expedition—probably in 626 BC and probably just the most destructive of several others raids until 616 BC13—and of the revolt of an Assyrian high commander of the western regions in 623 BC, followed by Levantine actions like Josiah’s religious reform in 622 BC which can be equated with declarations of independence14, and by Egyptian assertions of power15� These hints suggest that Egypt deliberately chose to support an Assyrian buffer state on the Euphrates, between its Levantine allies and subjects and the threats coming from Mesopotamia and Iran16, while Babylonia opted for a definitive destruction of their former masters. As a result,

10

11

12

13

14 15 16

death) and the date of this version of Assurbanipal’s annals� See Kitchen, 1973: 406 and Na’aman, 1991b: 39� For the chronology of these events narrated in the different versions of Assurbanipal’s annals, see Cogan / Tadmor, 1977: esp� 77–81; Spalinger, 1978; Ivantchik, 1993: 95–105. Schipper, 2011: 272–279 tentatively suggests a low chronological reconstitution of the Egyptian penetration of Palestine, based on archaeological data, but the final results are conspicuously uncertain� Na’aman, 1991b: 39 chose also a late date and in 51–52 aptly reviewed the existing evidence pointing to a late Egyptian domination in Phoenicia also. BM 21901 (= ABC 3 = MC 22) o� 10–11, with Wiseman, 1956: 12–13, 54–55; Grayson, 1975: 91; Spalinger, 1977: 224; Glassner, 2004: 218–219; Schipper, 2011: 272� The Babylonians and the Medes took Harran after they vanquished Aššur-uballiṭ II and the Egyptian army in 610 BC, while the next year the city resisted against the counter offensive of the Assyrians and the Egyptians led by the pharaoh himself� BM 21901 r� 59–70 (= ABC 3 = MC 22), with Wiseman, 1956: 19, 60–63; Grayson, 1975: 95–96; Glassner, 2004: 222–225� Ivantchik,1999. But the Scythian raids in the Levant are highly controversial: Na’aman, 1991b: 36–37� Na’aman, 1991a: 262–265� Katzenstein, 1973: 295–296� Kienitz, 1953: 21; Spalinger, 1977: 224; Schipper, 2011: 272�

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clashes between Egyptian and Babylonian troops became frequent after the fall of Nineveh in 612 BC. After the final fall of Harran in 609 BC, the Assyrian-Babylonian conflict turned into a fully-fledged war between the newly-born empires separated by the Euphrates17. In the four years between the fall of Harran and Karkemish this war seemed to be a tapping game that could have ended in mutual accommodation along the natural border represented by the mighty river� 1.2 The second phase – the Babylonian breakthrough (605–601 BC) But it did not. It seems that the historical course of events—a fierce struggle for the Levant—was much influenced by the character and temper of the heirs of the two kings who had seen the beginning of the Assyrian fall, Nabopolassar and Psammetichos I. Firstly, Necho II seems to have been much more assertive than his father. In contrast to Psammetichos I who sent troops only once in 616 BC to assist Sin-šarru-iškun, he vigorously waged war from the very beginning in support of his Assyrian ally, even leading his troops himself at Harran in 609 BC� He might also have started a much coarser line of politics towards the Levantine states; at the start of his campaign of 609 BC he executed Josiah, king of Judah, in Megiddo after a summary trial (not killing him in battle, as stated by previous scholarship)18, and at the end of it in Riblah he deposed and took into captivity Jehoahaz, the elected heir of Josiah� He put his step brother, Jehoiakim, into his place and exacted a great tribute from Judah19. We do not know how Psammetichos I behaved towards the Levantine polities, but his successor’s policy toward Judah was admittedly harsh when compared to his own astute policy when he reunited Egypt20�

17

18

19

20

After the fall of Harran, military operations were conducted by both parties on the both banks of Euphrates� BM 22047 (= ABC 4 = MC 23) o� 12–14, r� 14–28, with Wiseman, 1956: 21–23, 64–66; Grayson, 1975: 97–98; Glassner, 2004: 226–227� I follow the line of thought of Na’aman, 1991b: 51–55 and Kahn, 2015: 515–522, who reject with persuasive arguments a military confrontation between Josiah and Necho II, as 2 Chron� 35:20–24 erroneously implies, developing from the more reliable 2 Kings 23:29–30� 2 Kings 29:33–34; 2 Chron� 36:2; Joseph� AJ 10�5�2, with Malamat, 1975: 125–126, who highlights that Jehoiakim’s mother came from a pro-Egyptian family, while the family of Jehoahaz’s mother supported the independence of Judah� Diplomacy seems to have been one of the main means used by Psammetichos I in his quest to reunite Egypt, as outlined by Kitchen, 1973: 400–406 and Lloyd, 1988: 134–135�

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Secondly, Nebuchadnezzar II also seems to have been much more ambitious and hot-tempered than his father, Nabopolassar, who acted as a very cautious general and refused battle many times in his reign (even during the Egyptian counter offensive at Harran, in 609 BC?21)� While Nabopolassar tried to outflank the Egyptians established at Karkemish through actions conducted against Kimuhu to the north and the villages opposite Quramati to the south of the Egyptian stronghold22, Nebuchadnezzar directly attacked the enemy headquarters at the beginning of the summer of 605 BC� He knocked his enemies out and then pursued them far into the heart of Syria, where he destroyed them “to the last man”23� It was this decisive action of Nebuchadnezzar that totally changed the balance of power and the course of events� The military blow to Egypt seems to have been extremely severe. The boastful information provided by the Babylon Chronicle is endorsed by the pro-Babylonian prophet Jeremiah (46:1–12) and, even more convincing, by the rapid loss of any influence over the Levant24� Most of the Levantine kings and kinglets probably quickly acknowledged Nebuchadnezzar’s rule, as the following year, during a winter campaign aimed at neutralizing any possible Egyptian support from the sea, the new Babylonian king already besieged and razed Ashkelon, near Egypt’s border� The calls for help from the few supporters of the Egyptian cause who were prepared to stand against Babylon, like that preserved in the famous letter of king Adon25, remained without answer and even Jehoiakim, appointed by Necho a few years earlier, submitted to the Babylonians (2 Kings 24:1)� Thus, it is almost clear that, following the major victories in the summer of 605 BC, there was a major game change� Nebuchadnezzar

21

22

23

24 25

Necho’s role in shaping a new strategy in the Levant is acknowledged by Lipschits, 2005: 19–20� BM 21901 (= ABC 3 = MC 22) r� 66–70, with Wiseman, 1956: 19, 62–63; Grayson, 1975: 96; Glassner, 2004: 224–225� BM 22047 (= ABC 4 = MC 23) o� 12–14, r� 15–26, with Wiseman, 1956: 21–23, 64–67; Grayson, 1975: 99; Wiseman, 1985: 13–14; Glassner, 2004: 224–227� BM 21946 (= ABC 5 = MC 24) o� 1–8, with Wiseman, 1956: 23–26, 66–69; Grayson, 1975: 97–98; Wiseman, 1985: 14–15; Glassner, 2004: 226–229� With regard to Nebuchadnezzar’s temper and character contra Kienitz, 1953: 21 (“Nebukadnezar war kein Eroberer”, etc.) and Ephʿal, 2003: 180–189. Cf. Ephʿal, 2003: 179. Its interpretation given by Porten, 1981 is currently the most convincing.

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hastened to grasp the Levantine heritage of Assyria and, encouraged by his successes and the Levantine submission, to prepare the invasion of Egypt26, as demonstrated by his quick assault on Philistia. As heir to the Assyrian kings of Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar’s march against the Levant and Egypt was entirely justified ideologically27� On the other hand, it seems that Necho had deliberately abandoned the Levant for the time being. Following Herodotos 2.158–159, I assume that he chose to build his forces up in Egypt and waited the Babylonian attack behind his own ‘Maginot line’, drawn between the Mediterranean and the Red Sea28� Moreover, Egyptian inactivity in the Levant might be also conjecturally explained by the start of the Nubian-provoked trouble in the south (see below)� At this point, a closer look at Hdt� 2�158–159 might be helpful: 2.158 (1) Psammetichos had a son, Necho, who became king of Egypt. It was he who began building the canal into the Red Sea, which was finished by Dareios the Persian. This is four days’ voyage in length, and it was dug wide enough for two triremes to move in it rowed abreast. [...] (5) ... In Necho’s reign, a hundred and twenty thousand Egyptians died digging it� Necho stopped work, stayed by a prophetic utterance that he was toiling beforehand for the barbarian� The Egyptians call all men of other languages barbarians� 2�159 (1) Necho, then, stopped work on the canal and engaged in preparations for war; some of his ships of war were built on the northern sea, and some in the Arabian Gulf, by the Red Sea coast: the winches for

26 27

28

Cf� Heller, 2010: 158� Berossos’ claim that Nebuchadnezzar marched against the rebelled governor of Egypt, Coele-Syria and Phoenicia (Berossos FGrHist 680 fr� 8a = Joseph� Ap. 1�135) should not be so easily dismissed as Seleucid-driven propaganda or mere confusion, according to the perspective that the Neo-Babylonian kingship greatly differed from the Assyrian one in its more restricted view over empire (Burstein, 1978: 26; Wiseman, 1985: 15 n� 108)� Berossos had access to the best Neo-Babylonian documents, so his programmatic intention to demonstrate that the universal empire did not pass through the Medians to the Persians and then to the Macedonians, but through the Babylonians (see Lanfranchi, 2013: esp� 70 with regard to this fragment), is possibly not his own invention; it might rather echo an insufficiently documented claim of the Neo-Babylonian kings to universal empire or, at least, of being heirs to the Assyrian kings of Babylon, when they judged this claim suitable for their purposes (see Vanderhooft, 1999: 35–46, 51–59). Cf. Redford, 2000: 189–190. On the fortified eastern border of Egypt, see Oren, 1984: 8–10, 29–30; Redford, 1998: 45–48; Kahn / Tammuz, 2009: 48–49; Hussein / Alim, 2015: 1–4�

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landing these can still be seen� (2) He used these ships when needed, and with his land army met and defeated the Syrians at Magdolos, taking the great Syrian city of Kadytis after the battle� (3) He sent to Branchidai of Miletos and dedicated there to Apollo the garments in which he won these victories. Then he died after a reign of sixteen years, and his son Psammis [Psammetichos II] reigned in his place. (trans. Godley)

For a long time, the two battles referred to in 2�159�2 have been considered to be that of Megiddo, against Josiah, in 609 BC, and the supposed conquest of Kadesh that followed� The mention of Syrians and Syria was considered as proof for this interpretation29. Nevertheless, as I mentioned above, there was no battle of Megiddo� Moreover, it was shown that Magdolos should refer to Migdol, the most important among the many Egyptian fortresses near the Pelusiac branch of the Nile30, and that Kadytis is the Greek rendering of Qdt, the Egyptian name of Gaza, the southernmost city of the Philistine Pentapolis. Thus, the account mentions the two ends of the strategic road crossing the Sinai Peninsula, between Egypt and Palestine. It was also made clear that Herodotos (and other Greek authors) used Syria as a toponym to refer to Palestine as well (Hdt. 1.105; 4.39; 7.89; cf� Xanthos of Lydia FGrHist 765 fr� 8; 17)� Therefore, this account does not refer to Necho’s campaign of 609 BC, but to another event recounted in the Babylonian Chronicles: the great clash of the winter 601/600 BC, provoked by Nebuchadnezzar’s attempt to finally invade Egypt which ended, however, with a Babylonian retreat (and, as shown by Herodotos, with an Egyptian counteroffensive that captured Gaza)31�

29

30

31

E�g� Malamat, 1950, 218–221; de Meulenaere, 1951: 57; Kienitz, 1953: 21–22, etc� The discovery of the Babylonian Chronicles edited by Wiseman, 1956, providing information about the battle of 601/600 BC, finally tipped the balance against the older view, although it persisted for some time: e�g�, Helck, 1968: 251, n� 3; Spalinger, 1977: 226� Convincingly identified by Oren, 1984: 30–35 with the site T–21 (and the cemetery T–73), at Tell Qedwa, 10 km southwest of ancient Pelusion. Although it seems that in Egypt there were more fortified settlements called Migdol (a borrowing from Semitic, meaning ‘fortress’), the contemporary Jewish accounts (Jer� 44:1, 46:4; Ezek� 29:10, 30:6) emphasize the role played by this one in the eastern Delta, a gate of entry as significant as Syene in the south of the country. BM 21946 (= ABC 5 = MC 24) r� 5–7, with Wiseman, 1956: 29–31, 66–69; Grayson, 1975: 101; Wiseman, 1985: 29–30; Glassner, 2004: 228–229. The first researcher to demonstrate without any doubts this sequence of events is Lipiński, 1972. A lengthy discussion of the matter and of the historiography on the subject in Lloyd, 1988: 161– 163, while a concise one is available in Lipiński, 2006: 161.

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This conclusion is enhanced by the information provided in 2�158� An incorrect interpretation has also circulated for a long time: Necho was imagined to have stopped work at the canal merely because of the futility of his efforts, exposed by the prophecy that an indefinite ‘barbarian’ would reap the results of his toil in an indefinite future. Indeed, after a century, Dareios the Great accomplished the work at the canal and it seems that Herodotos thought that Dareios was ‘the barbarian’ meant by the prophecy� In fact, those who issued the prophecy should have had another ‘barbarian’ in mind, one nearer to their time who was thought to immediately benefit from the pharaoh’s efforts, one because of whom Necho not only stopped the work at the canal but also started war preparations, as stated in 2�159�1: he is no other than Nebuchadnezzar32�

32

Contra Lloyd 1988, 157: “clearly an ex eventu prophecy based on the Persian conquest”� (cf� also 149; Kienitz, 1953: 24, n� 9)� Lloyd’s quick dismissal is based on the relatively long scholarly tradition of partially or totally rejecting the authenticity of oracles preserved in Greek historians (especially Delphic oracles in Herodotos) and emphasizing their narrative function – Crahay, 1956; Parke / Wormell 1956; Kirchberg, 1965; Fontenrose, 1978; Harrison, 2000: 122–157; Kindt 2016 – only recently balanced by more optimistic approaches - Maurizio, 1997; Mikalson 2002, 194–196; Lateiner, 2007. Moreover, I agree with de Meulenaere, 1957: 458 that the Hellenocentric focus on the Greek oracles obscured a proper discussion regarding the genuineness of the foreign prophecies recorded, only cursorily attempted in Klees, 1965. In fact, oracles against nations of the type pronounced against Necho II were very common in the Ancient Near East, the best known being those of the Old Testament prophets, see Hayes, 1968� Jewish prophets issued many prophecies against Egypt, foretelling its destruction by Nebuchadnezzar II (Jer. 43–46; Ezek. 29–32; with Porten, 1968: 14). Some of them were even pronounced in Daphnae / Tahpanhes (Jer� 43:6–9), the main frontier city in eastern Egypt, the centre of the Saite system of border forts, partly garrisoned by Ionians and Karians (Hdt� 2�154)� Therefore, it seems very plausible to me that after the great disasters in the Levant in 605 BC such prophecies might have circulated among the population and the soldiers garrisoned on the eastern border of Egypt, envisaging the imminent destruction of Egypt by Nebuchadnezzar II. The memory of such prophecies survived in the Greek community living in Egypt, but latter events determined a change in the identification of the Barbarian from Nebuchadnezzar II to Dareios I. Because of the rejection of the prophecy, Lloyd did not see the immediate chronological and causal connection between the Babylonian menace, the abandon of the canal, the war preparations and the campaign of the winter 601–600 BC� He thought, therefore, that the war preparations mentioned by Herodotos refer to those made for the Asiatic campaigns he started in 609 BC and that the work at the canal was carried out just for one year� This is obviously a poor reconstruction: Lloyd himself found such a chronology “improbably constricted” and tried to solve the problem by proposing that Necho

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The aftermath of the battle for Egypt shows that Necho’s build up against the ‘barbarian’, as I assume, was both immense and efficient. Nebuchadnezzar’s army had to recover for a year and a half in Babylon before taking to the field once again33 and Necho seized the chance to partially fill up the temporary vacuum of power by conquering Gaza—as implied by Herodotos—in a move that afterwards encouraged Jehoiakim to revolt against Babylon34� 1.3 The third phase – Babylonian preparations for a new invasion, Egyptian efforts to disrupt enemy rule over the Levant My hypothesis is that over the following three decades Nebuchadnezzar patiently consolidated his domination over the Levant with a view to invading Egypt once again, while the pharaohs tried to steer rebellions and conducted counteroffensives in the region with a view to hindering the invasion and, if possible, regaining at least parts of the Levant35� We are rather well informed about what happened in the first few years after Nebuchadnezzar’s unsuccessful campaign due to a rare set of sources which were quite luckily preserved� He managed to quell the rebellion of Jehoiakim and deported part of the Judahite elite to Babylon36� He also tried to strengthen Babylonian rule over other Levantine states, and was successful (2 Kings 24:7)�

33

34 35

36

continued the work even after war preparations for the Asiatic campaigns� But the succession of events proposed by Lloyd is impossible from the very beginning; an Asiatic campaign had been already conducted in 610 BC, so there was no time for any work at the canal according to this logic! BM 21946 (= ABC 5 = MC 24) r� 8–9, with Wiseman, 1956: 29–31, 66–69; Grayson, 1975: 101; Wiseman, 1985: 29–30; Glassner, 2004: 228–229� Katzenstein, 1983� See other opinions, partly similar, partly dissimilar, with regard to the Babylonian and Egyptian strategies in: Spalinger, 1977: 230–231; Wiseman, 1985: 29� BM 21496 (= ABC 5 = MC 24) r� 11-13, with Wiseman, 1956: 32–34, 72–73; Grayson, 1975: 102; Glassner, 2004: 230–231; 2 Kings 24:10–16; 2 Chronicles 36:5–9� Malamat, 1975: 132–134 reconciles the evidence provided by 2 Kings 24:14, 2 Kings 24:16 and Jer� 52:28, regarding the number of deportees: 3,000 at the beginning of the siege, followed by another 7,000 after the fall of Jerusalem. The deportation is confirmed by the oil rations tablets found in Nebuchadnezzar’s palace of Babylon which mention, beginning with 592 BC, Jehoiakin (Ya’u-kīnu), king of Judah (Yahudu), his five sons and other dignitaries of Judah (Weidner, 1939: 925–928; ANET: 308)�

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Rather surprisingly, the Egyptians did not fully follow up their victory of 601/600 BC with vigorous action into Levant37, although at least Jehoiakim of Judah, if not other Levantine rulers too, was eager to support their cause� I assume that a proven ambitious pharaoh like Necho would not have missed the opportunity (and in fact he tried to do it, counterattacking in 601/600 BC at Gaza) unless there was a serious hindrance� This was represented by the Nubian peril in the south� A stone stela from Elephantine38 might be an important clue that Necho was confronted with a Nubian assault over the Upper Egypt and that hostilities continued during the reign of his son, Psammetichos II, who crushed his southern neighbours in a famous campaign known to Herodotos (Hdt. 2.161). Unfortunately, we do not know when the war with Nubia started; it was possibly even before the battle of Migdol of 601/600 BC, thus giving one more explanation for the apparent Egyptian inactivity between Karkemish and Migdol� However, it posed a great threat for Egypt as the boastfulness of Psammetichos’ II memorials of his Nubian campaign and the hatred of the destruction of the Nubian cities prove39. It should not be forgotten that Saitic Egypt was a rather young political construction and that Psammetichos’ II greatgrandfather, Necho I, had been killed in battle by Anlamani’s and Aspelta’s great-granduncle Tantamani40 only 70 years previously� The great victory over the Nubian foe was a significant event for Egypt who turned back once again to the Levant. Unfortunately, 594/593 BC is the last year recorded by the preserved Babylonian Chronicles and later events gradually become more difficult to reconstruct. From then on we are left with more hypotheses than certitudes�

37

38

39

40

Cf. Lipiński, 2006: 161. In 598 BC most of the kings of the coastal cities of Levant are listed as contributing to the palace works of Nebuchadnezzar, as stated in EŞ 7834, col. VII*, 23–29, with Da Riva, 2013: 204; 217 and van der Brugge / Kleber, 2016: 197–198 (previously col. V, see ANET: 308)� Kaiser et al�, 1975: 83–84, pl� 28 b; Junge, 1987: 66–67, pl� 40 c; Jansen-Winkeln, 1989; Redford, 1992: 462; Redford, 2000: 192–193. For a hypothetical Nubian aggression that triggered the fierce Egyptian reaction, see Kitchen, 1973: 406, who nevertheless places it in the time of Psammetichos II, dismissing too easily a start of the confrontation in the time of Necho II, when “attention was focused in Western Asia”� I use the genealogy of the Napata dynasty as reconstructed in Dunham / Laming Macadam, 1949: 149�

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Still, it is known that already in 594/593 BC, probably encouraged by the recent troubles met by Nebuchadnezzar in Mesopotamia41, representatives of Ammon, Edom, Moab, Tyre and Sidon were gathered in Jerusalem to plot against Babylon (Jer� 27:1–11)� Military or not, Psammetichos’ II campaign in the Levant, conducted after his resounding Nubian success and recorded in a much later papyrus42, was an assertion of power that emboldened the Phoenician and Palestinian states to adopt an anti-Babylonian stance. In time, it provoked for sure a new Judahite rebellion led by Nebuchadnezzar’s own appointee Zedekiah43� Moreover, it seems to me that Psammetichos’ II campaign and the revolt of Judah were part of a greater Egyptian plan to shake up Babylonian rule over the Levant and to eventually reverse the geopolitical situation� The plan probably consisted of a general revolt of the southern Levantine and Phoenician states, backed by Egypt. The same states whose envoys had been in Jerusalem in 594/593 BC should also have thrown the Babylonian yoke away, like the kingdom of Judah� At least, this might be one explanation for the harsh, almost enraged prophecies of Ezekiel against Ammon, Moab, Edom, Philistia, Tyre, Sidon and Egypt (Ezek. 25, 26, 28:21–26, 29:1–16), starting shortly after the beginning of the siege of Jerusalem, where the prophet accused most of them of joy over the disaster of Judah44. I assume that, in fact, Ezekiel was enraged because of the perceived treason of these countries in not supporting Judah adequately by sending armies or revolting themselves, as the initial deal might have provided for� This is clearly stated in relation to Egypt45 and

41

42 43

44 45

In his ninth and tenth regnal years (595–594 BC), Nebuchadnezzar had to cope with Elamite hostility and to quell a mutiny of his own army, in Babylonia – BM 21496 (= ABC 5 = MC 24) r� 16–22, with Wiseman, 1956: 36, 74–75; Grayson, 1975: 102; Glassner, 2004: 230–231� Cf� Lipschits, 2005: 62–63; Kahn, 2008: 143; Heller, 2010: 160–161� P. Rylands IX, with Griffith, 1909: 95; Vittmann, 1998; Perdu, 2010: 146. Contra Kienitz, 1953: 26 and Katzenstein, 1973: 316–317. They saw Psammetichos II as having a “friedliche Regierung” or being a “very cautious king” who “did not nourish any thoughts about the reconquest of the old Egyptian Asian province”� Cf� Lloyd, 1988: 147� Zedekiah’s preparations for revolt, with Egyptian help, noted in Ezek� 17:11–21, most probably started in the time of Psammetichos II. Cf� Tuell, 2009: 167–168� Ezek. 29:6–7: “Then all who live in Egypt will know that I am the Lord. You have been a staff of reed for the people of Israel. When they grasped you with their hands, you splintered and you tore open their shoulders; when they leaned on you, you broke and their backs were wrenched�”

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Ezekiel probably judged the inactivity of former traditional enemies of Judah, at that time rebellious allies, as a deliberate, treacherous decision to use this opportunity to get rid of Jerusalem� The accusation is too tough, as following events show that other kings undertook activities against the Babylonians46� Maybe this inactivity or the inefficiency of the rebellious coalition was a result of Psammetichos’ sudden death in 589 BC, a great loss for sure, given his talent and energy as a statesman� His successor, Wahibre / Hophra / Apries, did not change his policy of attempting to disrupt Babylonian rule, but with limited success47� He tried to force the Babylonians to raise the siege of Jerusalem, but his efforts were to no avail (Jer� 37:5; Ezek� 29:1–16, 30:20–26)� He also conducted military operations against the Levantine coasts, as recorded by Herodotos and Diodoros Sikelios, whose accounts differ slightly� Herodotos says in 2�161�1 that Apries: 1� campaigned against Sidon; 2� fought a sea battle against the king of Tyre; and in 2�182�2 that 3� Amasis was the first to rule over Cyprus. Diodoros recounts in 1.68.1, however, that Apries: 1. conducted both a campaign against Cyprus and Phoenicia, using both land and sea troops; 2� took Sidon by storm; 3� received the submission of the other cities of Phoenicia; 4. defeated the Cypriots and the Phoenicians in a great sea-battle, returning into Egypt with much booty; and in 1�68�6 that 5� Amasis reduced the cities of Cyprus� While militarily and economically successful, Apries’ endeavours seem not to have had long-lasting political effects� Nebuchadnezzar’s actions after the great victory of Psammetichos’ II in Nubia are very difficult to reconstruct, as the Babylonian Chronicles for this period are lost and there are no hints provided by later Greek historians about Babylonian political and military activities, as there are for Egypt�

46

47

The murder of Gedaliah, son of Achikam, the Babylonian appointed governor over Judah, at the hands of Ishmael, son of Nethaniah, instigated and supported by Ba’alis, the king of Ammon (Jer� 40:13–41:15) might be seen as a plot perpetrated to weaken the Babylonians in the Levant during the revolt� One should also note that Zedekiah was captured in the plains of Jericho (Jer. 39:5), while he was probably fleeing to the allied kings of Ammon or Moab� Jer� 40:11 informs us that other Jews were luckier and escaped to Moab, Ammon, Edom and to other nations� Cf� van der Brugge / Kleber, 2016: 198–199� For the policy of Psammetichos II in the Levant, see the keen remarks of Greenberg, 1957�

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He destroyed Jerusalem in 587 (or 586 BC) and reorganised Judah, despite Apries’ opposition� Thus, he eliminated a constant source of risk for his potential campaign against Egypt as Judah was situated to the south-east and east of the main route to the Sinai and Pelusion. He also tried to subdue Tyre (Ezek� 26:1–14)48, another source of risk for a campaign against Egypt49 as it was situated on the opposite side of the same route, to the north-west. He finally succeeded after a thirteen year-long siege (Joseph� Ap. 1�143–156)50, concluded with the captivity of part of the royal family of Tyre in Babylon51� Ezek� 29:17–21 seems to contradict the hypothesis of Nebuchadnezzar’s victory over Tyre: God says that, despite its efforts, the Babylonian army received no material benefit for them, but would be compensated by the rich booty of Egypt. The exegesis mostly viewed this fragment either as a rare example of unfulfilled prophecy in the Bible, or proposed the ingenious solution that Nebuchadnezzar only occupied coastal Tyre, while the island of Tyre resisted the Babylonian army52. A careful reading of the biblical text reveals that there is no reason to envisage any failure of Nebuchadnezzar and his army in subduing Tyre� The only problem highlighted in the prophecy is that the attackers were not materially rewarded for their laborious siege� Thus, it seems that Nebuchadnezzar somehow imposed his will over Tyre, but he was not able to extract the expected booty from such a wealthy

48

49 50

51 52

Information confirmed by Babylonian archival documents, whose reference to Phoenician Tyre was partly disputed: Unger, 1926: 316; Katzenstein, 1973: 324; Joannès, 1982; Joannès, 1987; Zawadzki, 2003; Heller, 2010: 165; Kleber, 2008: 141–154; van der Brugge / Kleber, 2016: 197� Cf� Katzenstein, 1973: 329–330; van der Brugge / Kleber, 2016: 219, n� 136� The length of the siege, recorded by Josephus, who have drawn on writers who used Phoenician sources might somehow be corroborated with the period of 14 years and 2 months between Ezekiel’s prophecy against Tyre (26:1, 11th month of the 12th year of Jehoiakin’s exile, February 585 BC) and his last prophecy against Egypt, after the supposedly recent fall of Tyre (Ezek� 29:17, the 1st month of the 27th year of exile, April 571 BC). Unfortunately, Josephus’ passage is corrupted, while the dates of Ezekiel’s prophecies are not wholly reliable for dating these events� Consequently, there are various proposals for dating the siege of Tyre: 585/4–572 BC (Katzenstein, 1973: 325–336); 586–573 BC (Spalinger, 1977: 234); 588/7–574/573 BC (van der Brugge / Kleber, 2016: 203–208)� Full discussion on the competing chronologies of Tyrian history in the Neo-Babylonian period is made in Zawadski, 2015: 276-284� Joseph� Ap. 1�158, with Katzenstein, 1973: 343� Several interpretative scenarios proposed by scholars are listed in Block, 1998: 147–149�

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city� Whether the Babylonians only occupied coastal Tyre and afterwards the terms of capitulation of the whole city spared the Tyrians from being plundered and paying great tribute53 or, less probably, they captured all the city but the wealth had already been transported to Phoenician safe heavens overseas54, the fact remains that the submission of Tyre was a significant military and political success, albeit with low immediate economic benefits. Moreover, Nebuchadnezzar slowly consolidated his rule over the whole of Levant, dealing with all the other plotters assisted by Egypt and assuring their continued allegiance. Unfortunately we do not know much about these actions55� Before passing to the last phase of the war one more question should be examined. How can we reconcile the fact that Tyre is said to have fought both against Egypt and Babylonia? There are three options56: 1� Apries successfully campaigned against Phoenicia early in his reign and afterwards Nebuchadnezzar had to restore Babylonian domination through military activities that culminated with the 13 year-long siege of Tyre (one may suppose that Apries’ campaign was part of his effort to relieve Jerusalem and/or a consequence of the Phoenicians’ failure to support the anti-Babylonian revolt, as discussed in the previous years); 2� Simultaneously with the siege of Jerusalem or shortly afterwards, Nebuchadnezzar also launched an offensive against Phoenicia and particularly Tyre (which presumably revolted like Judah). Apries campaigned against the same region between 574–570 BC, in order to prevent a Babylonian invasion of Egypt; 3� Apries did not campaign

53 54

55

56

See already Pietschmann, 1889: 305–306. Maybe Ithobaal and his anti-Babylonian supporters fled with large treasures to some Tyrian possession overseas, like Lulî (Elulaios) did to Kition in 701 BC� Cf� Cannavò, 2010: 174–175. In the light of Babylonian archival documents, it is now clear that Babylonian troops garrisoned Tyre at least between 574/573 and 562 BC (van der Brugge / Kleber, 2016: 199)� Joseph� AJ 10�9�7 mentions campaigns in Coele-Syria and against Ammon and Moab, in the 23rd regnal year of Nebuchadnezzar or shortly after (cca� 582 BC)� See also Ezek� 32:29–30, in the twelth year of Jehoiakin’s exile (585 BC) where it is said that the kings of Edom and of the Sidonians lay with the dead� Cf� Zawadzki, 2003; van der Brugge / Kleber, 2016: 198–199, n� 106� Cf. Lloyd, 1988: 170–172 for bibliography and discussion on the first two options; James, 2015: 351–354�

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against Phoenicia and Cyprus, as Herodotos and Diodoros mistakenly understood, but in order to support their revolt against Nebuchadnezzar57� The third option has recently gained momentum, but I think we should not so easily dismiss the evidence provided by the Greek authors� Diodoros’ claim that Apries received the submission of the Phoenicians and returned with great booty, if not an embellishment of the story or an educated guess, clearly contradicts the third scenario� In the current state of research, I find it impossible to choose between one of the first two scenarios. However, I suspect that the Greek accounts, while accurate with regard to the main course of events, are telescoped versions of what really happened in the maritime Levant� The supposition of only two main developments (Egyptian campaign followed by Babylonian retaliation or vice versa) does not take into account the contraction of events in Greek sources, something which is clear in other contexts where we have more Oriental sources at hand: e�g�, the civil war between Apries and Amasis where the Babylonian invasion of 568/567 BC is omitted by both Herodotos and Diodoros (see below). The complexity of operations in Judah between 600 and 587 BC (13 years), with numerous setbacks for both parties which we are fortunate to know from the Bible and partially from the Babylonian Chronicles, should also be kept in mind as a good comparison when trying to reconstruct the hostilities that took place in Phoenicia and Cyprus between 587 and 570 BC (17 years)58� I would speculate therefore that Egyptian military operations might have taken place both at the beginning of Apries’ reign, during the attempted general Levantine revolt against Babylonia, and after the fall of Tyre into the hands of Nebuchadnezzar, before the Egyptian civil war that started in 571/570 BC� New written sources are acutely required for advancement in knowledge on this issue� 1.4 The fourth phase – The last invasion of Egypt and the conclusion of peace Due to the so-called Elephantine stela of Amasis, that benefits now from a more accurate edition which was much needed before59, a fragmentary

57 58 59

For this scenario, see Lipiński, 2006: 162; James, 2015: 353–354. Cf� James, 2015: 356� Jansen-Winkeln, 2014� Daressy, 1900, the previous edition was incomplete, inaccurate and obviously outdated, provoking considerable confusion for later commentaries in

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religious or historical Babylonian text referring to events in 568/567 BC60, Hdt� 2�163, 2�169, 4�159 and Diod� Sic� 1�68�2–5, the course of events between 571 and 567 BC is considerably better known than that after the second fall of Jerusalem� In brief, an Egyptian army sent by Apries to subdue Cyrene, perhaps in 571 BC, revolted from him and proclaimed Amasis as pharaoh� The Egyptian mutineers returned from Libya, occupied Sais and defeated the mercenary forces of Apries� The main hostilities between the adversaries took place in the Delta, especially on the Canopic branch of the Nile, as Jansen-Winkeln aptly demonstrates, excluding previous hypotheses of Cypriot and Memphite involvement61� Three years later, Apries attempted to gain back his throne by joining a Babylonian campaign against Egypt, but it seems that Apries was somehow killed or captured� Frustratingly, the outcome of the Babylonian expedition is not totally clear� Was it defeated, as the Amasis’ stela implies? Did the usurper manage to diplomatically settle the dispute, renouncing any claims to the Levant? How might Amasis’ continued reign be reconciled with the Biblical prophecies of the destruction of Egypt, “from Migdol to Syene, as far as the border of Kush” (Ezek� 29:10)62 and with Josephus’ statement that Nebuchadnezzar “fell upon Egypt … and he slew the king that then reigned and set up another” (Joseph� AJ 10�9�7)63? Later Babylonian chronicles64 do not mention Egypt, giving instead information on campaigns in Cilicia and the rise of the Median and Persian threat. There are no more references to Egypt in the Bible either. Egyptian sources from Amasis’ later years show no other disturbances provoked by the Levantine affairs. It seems that after the death of Nebuchadnezzar the enmity between the rivals disappeared, making room for friendly diplomatic relations: in 547 BC both parties were formal allies (symmachoi) of Kroisos, who sent heralds (kerykes) to them asking

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64

Edel, 1978; Spalinger, 1979; Leahy, 1988; Ladynin, 2006� BM 33041 and 33053, with Wiseman, 1956: 94–95, pl. XX-XXI and Edel, 1978: 13–20. Jansen-Winkeln, 2014: 148–150� See also Jer� 42:18–22; 43:8–13; 44:30; 46:13–26� This evidence is dismissed by van der Brugge / Kleber, 2016: 216, n� 106, as “clearly distorted”� Spalinger, 1977: 236–243 ingeniously assumes two Babylonian invasions of Egypt, one in the time of Apries, the other in 568/567 BC, but without solving the inherent problems of this scenario (e�g�, both Amasis and Nebuchadnezzar kill Apries)� Chronicles of Neri-glissar (MC 25) and Nabonidus (MC 26)�

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for help against the common Persian threat (Hdt. 1.77). One might infer that a formal alliance was struck between Egypt and Babylonia, too, as was the case before, when Egypt became the ally of Assyria against the Babylonian threat� Given the facts described above, I would add several comments about this last phase of the war� The fact that Apries only sent an army of locals against Cyrene was explained as a deliberate plan to get rid of opposition at home, as a preventive measure against a clash of armies of Greek stock or as a consequence of the Libyan origins of the Egyptian machimoi65� A fourth hypothesis might function better or be at least complementary to the former ones� Maybe the rest of the Saite army, mostly composed of mercenaries, was engaged in operations in the Levant or at the eastern borders of Egypt, and Apries could only afford to dispatch a corps of local troops against Cyrene, possibly having in mind some of the considerations already stated� This view is supported by further events of 570 BC66: quite rapidly a great force of 30,000 mercenaries was available to Apries which advanced along the Canopic branch, both on water and ground, most probably coming by sea from the East. I assume that this army had already been assembled and was operating somewhere else, so it was rather easy to re-deploy it against the revolt controlling Sais� One should bear in mind the occasions in the 4th century BC when pharaohs acting in the East against the Persians were overthrown by revolts in the western and central Delta. With regard to the end of the war, discussion remains open, as emphasized above. In the absence of other sources, I choose to give credit to the claims of the Elephantine Stela of Amasis that the Babylonian expedition was unsuccessful, with the result that enmity went on after 567 BC but entered a period of stalemate. It would be expected that Amasis, a usurper, was not very keen to continue fighting in the Levant and endanger his reign� The death of Nebuchadnezzar in 562 BC is probably the most appropriate moment for a turning point in the Babylonian stance, too, while the latter part of Nabonidus’ reign could even have seen an alliance against Persia between the two former enemy powers67�

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67

Lloyd, 1988: 173–174� A chronology of 570 BC—the 1st regnal year of Amasis—is provided by Leahy, 1988: 187–189� Cf� Dandamaev, 1989: 41� The resettlement of the Aegean mercenaries from their camps on the eastern border of Egypt to Memphis (Hdt� 2�154�3) might also be a consequence of the improved relations of Amasis with Babylon�

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2. Consequences for the Greeks 2.1 Trade and merchants Protracted fighting for more than half a century had serious consequences for the trade routes that connected the Aegean with the East, through the Levant and Egypt� We have already noticed in written sources that great ports which could have received Greek products and possibly Greek merchants were either destroyed (e�g�, Ashkelon) or blockaded for a long time (e�g�, Tyre)� The civil war in Egypt probably also had disruptive effects on trade with the Aegean, as Amasis needed to “found” (or refound) Naukratis (Hdt� 2�178–179)� The assumption that Babylonian domination over the Levant was not commercially-oriented, like the Assyrian one, and that the immediate purpose of the Babylonians was to carry as much wealth and population to Mesopotamia as they could might be true or might be false68� What is true for sure is that at least in the time of Nebuchadnezzar, whose rule over the Levant was permanently contested by the Egyptians, political and military objectives mattered much more than commercial ones� That the great struggle over the Levant was disruptive for trade with the Aegean might be inferred from Neo-Babylonian commercial documents; evidence for rather large quantities of “Ionian” products only comes from the period after Nebuchadnezzar’s II reign69� The archaeological picture is far from clear, as the question “Who did these pots belong to?” is more open to debate than ever70—and thus an assessment of the Greek commercial presence in the Levant before the Babylonian domination is unlikely to achieve consensus� However, two observations should be noted:

68

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The Neo-Babylonian political and economic strategies towards the Levant, especially in comparison with the Assyrian ones, are still a matter of arduous debate� See Barstad, 1996: 61–76; Lipschits, 1998; Vanderhooft, 1999: 61–62, 81–114; Stern, 2001: 308–309, 348–350; Vanderhooft, 2003; Lipschits, 2005: 48–49, 61–62. For the Neo-Assyrian influence over the Neo-Babylonian administration, see Da Riva, 2013: 226–227. Kuhrt, 2002: 20–22, esp� 24� Nevertheless, the evidence is very limited and new discoveries might radically change this conclusion� With a specific discussion on who used the East Greek cooking pots found in the southern Levant� Naveh, 1962: 92–96; Niemeier, 1994: 33; Master, 2001: 165–169; Waldbaum, 2002: 64–66; Ben-Shlomo et al�, 2008; Zukerman / Ben-Shlomo, 2011: 97–98; Fantalkin, 2015: 235–237�

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1� The quantity of Greek pottery in the Levant markedly declines in general after the Babylonian conquest of the area; 2� Some of the settlements with massive quantities of Greek pottery before 610 BC were destroyed or abandoned and only a few of them show signs of revival after the end of the war�71 Therefore, it seems likely that the Greek merchants or the Oriental merchants who were supplying the Eastern markets with Greek pottery and other Greek products had to go through very difficult times72� On the other hand, there are numerous hints that Greek mercenaries were hired in greater numbers during this period, especially by the Egyptians� There are several moments of the history recounted above when we might infer the presence and the massive recruitment of mercenaries in the Aegean�

71

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Some sites in Syria had a long tradition of Greek pottery imports, which was suddenly ended by destruction or abandon in the first decades of the 6th century BC: Al Mina – Boardman, 1980: 52 notes that the political Babylonian interregnum between the Assyrians and the Persians is paralleled by 50 years after the beginning of the 6th century BC with very few finds of pottery in the Levant, but especially at Al Mina and in Palestine, cf. du Plat Taylor, 1959: 87; Ras el Bassit – Courbin, 1974: 175–178 underscores the paucity of East Greek pottery in the first half of 6th century BC, compared with both the second half of the 7th century BC and the second half of the 6th century BC; but Courbin, 1986: 199, 203 seems to give a more moderate assessment; Tell Sukas – Riis, 1970: 58–63, 126–127 argues convincingly for the destruction of the site in the decade 590–580 BC, followed however by a relatively rapid revival; Lund, 1986: 181 brings more evidence for the destruction. In the southern Levant the tradition of East Greek pottery imports was shorter, starting in the 620s with the rise of Egypt in the region, and was halted during the last decade of the 7th century BC – Waldbaum, 2002: 62–63; Waldbaum, 2011: 132; Faust, 2012: 73–92, with relevant bibliography and clear attribution of the “desolation” to the Babylonian rule� Another hint of the great disruption might be the marked decrease in locally carved ivories in Greece, and especially in Lakonia, in the first half of the 6th century BC which Cartledge, 2002: 117 explains through the interruption of ivory tusk trade caused by the fall of Tyre and the destruction of Al Mina� For another, less likely hypothesis that places the interruption a little earlier in the last quarter of the 7th century BC and explains it through the Scythian invasion of Asia and the fall of Nineveh, see Carpenter, 1946: 101� For other possible disruptive effects in the Mediterranean (Etruria, Crete), see Morris 1992, 171�

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2.2 War and mercenaries A. The Ionian shield and the greave found in the destruction layer of Karkemish by Woolley, parts of the typical equipment of Greek heavy infantrymen, are undeniable proof for their employment by the Egyptians in the military operations conducted along the Euphrates by Psammetichos I and Necho II73� Their employment was something usual and familiar to the Egyptians as they had been instrumental in Psammetichos’ I quest for reuniting Egypt and claiming independence from the Assyrians almost 50 years previously (Hdt� 2�152–154; Diod� Sic� 1�66�10–12; ARAB II § 784–785)� The severe defeats at Karkemish and Hamath must have been terrible for the Greek enrolled in the Egyptian ranks� Not only does the Babylonian chronicle say that “not a single man [returned] to his country”74, but the apparent lack of Egyptian resistance in the Levant until 601/600 BC bears witness to the great military losses inflicted on the Egyptian army by Nebuchadnezzar’s II troops. The foreign troops seem to have borne the brunt of battles. Besides the Ionian shield and the greave from Karkemish, there is also the testimony of Jeremiah (Jer� 46:1–12, esp� 9) regarding the men of Kush, Put and Lud who fought in the ranks of Egypt and who were probably the most appreciated fighters after the cavalry and the chariots. With regard to the same events, Berossos, quoted by Josephus (Joseph� Ap. 1�137–138), mentions the great numbers of captives from the Jews, the Phoenicians, the Syrians and the nations belonging to Egypt (kai tōn kata tēn Aigypton ethnōn) who were escorted to Babylonia by the commanders of the heavy infantry� It is possible that among these captives Antimenidas, the brother of the Mytilenean poet Alkaios, was recruited by the Babylonians to fight against his former Egyptian employers� Although the recent critique from Fantalkin and Lytle of the common reconstruction and interpretation of Alkaios fragments 48 and 350 Lobel / Page is generally sound (see

73

74

Woolley, 1921: 81, 128, pl� 24, pl� 25a; Boardman, 1980: 51, 115; Niemeier, 2001: 19, fig. 3. There are no solid arguments for sustaining the hypothesis expressed by Wiseman, 1985: 15–16, on the basis of other Egyptian artifacts found in House D, stating that the shield had been the personal trophy of a resident of the city. The existence of a greave and the two contexts where Woolley found the two artifacts convincingly plead for the desperate resistance of Greek soldiers as their most likely origin� BM 21946 (= ABC 5 = MC 24) o� 5–7, with Wiseman, 1956: 23–26, 66–69; Grayson, 1975: 97–98; Glassner, 2004: 226–229�

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below), they have no definitive proof for rejecting Strabo’s information that Antimenidas fought for the Babylonians. In my opinion, their strongest argument (besides some other questionable philological ones) is that there were no other Greek mercenaries attested in the service of the Babylonians75� Nevertheless, even this argument ex silentio is certainly insufficient to demonstrate that Strabo got things totally wrong about Antimenidas. It might also be proved false in the near future; Pedersen thought he found evidence for Karians being on duty as guards in Nebuchadnezzar’s Babylon76, and the great number of captives taken, accommodated and employed for different tasks by the great Babylonian king77 should make us cautious about rejecting the possibility of Greek prisoners of war having been enrolled into his army� B� As emphasized in the reconstruction of events, there was no battle of Megiddo in 609 BC and therefore Hdt� 2�158–159 refers to the campaign of 601/600 BC: the Egyptian preparations for it, Necho’s victories at Migdol and Gaza, and its aftermath�

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Fantalkin / Lytle, 2016� Pedersen, 2005: 270. He worked on the same archive of oil rations discovered in Nebuchadnezzar’s palace in Babylon as Weidner, 1939 who found evidence for the deported kings Jehoiakin of Judah and Aga of Ashkelon, as well as for several “Ionian” carpenters and builders, associated with bῑt sapῑnātu, probably the ‘ships’ house’, having such Anatolian names as Kunzumpiya, Aziyak, Labbunu, Patam. The evidence is dated 593/592 BC and the 2216 Karians, designated as coming from Bannēš, are most probably deserters or captives from Egypt: Karians coming from Anatolia are named Karsāja in Babylonian scripts, while those coming from Egypt are named Bannēšāja (Waerzeggers, 2006: 3–4)� Waerzeggers, 2006 also thinks she found evidence of Karians from Egypt, employed as mercenaries by the Persians at the end of 6th century BC, whose families were relocated to Borsippa in Mesopotamia� This might have been in fact an old Mesopotamian practice, attested at least in the Neo-Assyrian army (Dezső, 2012: 23–24). Other methods of military recruitment, which were known in the first place only from the Achaemenid period, were demonstrated afterwards to have emerged a long time before (MacGinnis, 2010: 158, Jursa, 2011: 437)� ANET: 308 for foreign individuals, some of them prisoners of war, living in Babylon� Hackl / Jursa, 2015: 158–159 cite also evidence, starting with 613 BC, for Egyptian male slaves donated by the king to the temple of Sippar, probably prisoners from the confrontations on the Euphrates between the Babylonians and the Assyro-Egyptian forces� MacGinnis, 2010: 157–158, 159–161 discusses at length the recruitment in the Babylonian army of temple dependents and other methods of recruiting soldiers among foreigners�

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We should put into a larger context the Herodotean notice that ho Nekōs etrapeto pros stratēias (2�159�1 – “Necho engaged in preparations for war”) after he had stopped the work at the canal because a prophecy had warned him that he was toiling for ‘the barbarian’. I have already highlighted the fact that the Egyptian armies were crushed at Karkemish and Hamath and that Necho no longer attempted to resist in the Levant� He also abandoned his very strategically important canal. It seems to me that between 605 and 601 BC Necho undertook the preparations of war mentioned by Herodotos in an almost desperate manner, pressured by an imminent Babylonian attack� In such a case, it is expected that he should seek rapid and effective solutions to his armies’ disarray� A massive recruitment of mercenaries might be envisaged as such a solution78� As the Levantine kings had already sworn allegiance to his Babylonian enemy (even his own appointee on the throne of Judah had changed sides in 604 BC!) and the Nubian dynasty was probably inimical, if not overtly hostile, there are only two regions that might have provided conditions for easy, massive recruitments: Libya and the Aegean� The fact that after the campaign of 601/600 BC Necho dedicated his war equipment worn in battle to the sanctuary of Apollo at Didyma, and probably a masterly crafted shrine bearing his cartouche at Ialysos, in the temple of Athena, interpreted by the Egyptians as the war goddess Neith, protector of Sais and of the Saite dynasty, proves that the pharaoh carried out at least part of the needed recruitments in the Aegean79� Herodotos specifically mentions that the battles of Magdolos and Kadytis were fought on land, but he implies that there were also naval operations conducted by the navy built by Necho during his preparations for war� Why should Necho have carried out a naval build-up as well, given the Babylonians’ lack of maritime strength, demonstrated by the timing of their 604 BC campaign against Ashkelon80? I assume that between 604 and 601 BC the Phoenicians acknowledged Babylonian rule, just like Judah, and their ships were prepared to assist a land invasion of Egypt� Necho had to cope with this menace and further strengthened his already existing navies by constructing new ships and hiring new crews. We may

78 79

80

Cf� Wiseman, 1985: 29; Kahn / Tammuz, 2009: 47–48� de Meulenaere, 1951: 59; Lloyd, 1988: 163. For the dedication of Ialysos and a similar interpretation of the gifts in Miletos and Rhodes, see Kousoulis / Morenz, 2007: 184–188� Fantalkin, 2011: 102�

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assume that before this, due to the traditional Egyptian-Phoenician ties, the Egyptian navy mainly consisted of Phoenician vessels manned by Phoenicians (Hdt. 4.42). As after 605 BC most of the Phoenicians were in the service of Babylonia, the only possibility left for Necho was to employ, along his former Phoenician naval nucleus, the few eventual Phoenician refugees and especially Aegean sailors, the most appropriate (if not the only possible) replacement for the Phoenicians. Might this be the moment when the Greeks started to build triremes, inspired by the Phoenicians81? C. It is very interesting that only 8 years after the great clash at the gates of Egypt we have the ineluctable proof of the massive use of Greek and Karian mercenaries by Psammetichos II in his great Nubian campaign. The names inscribed on the legs of the colossi from Abu Simbel might represent a clue for the intensive Egyptian use of the solution found by Necho in order to resist after the crushing defeats from Karkemish and Hamath� A long time ago Jeffery observed that some Greek/Egyptian names only bear the patronymics (Psammetichos, son of Theokles, Archon and Python, sons of Amoibichos, Pelekos, son of Oudamos), while others only bear the ethnonyms (Elesibios of Teos, Pabis of Kolophon, Anaxanor and Telephos of Ialysos) and hypothesized that the former were second or third generation Greeks in Egypt, while the latter were recent recruits from the Aegean82. I would like to emphasize the great geographical variation in the provenance of these latter mercenaries: four persons from three different cities, two in Northern Ionia and one in Rhodes. The absence of any other mercenaries from between the two regions (we may think of Miletos, as Didyma had just received wealthy dedications from Necho II or Halikarnassos, as a later mercenary leader originating there is mentioned by Herodotos – Hdt� 3�4, 3�11) seems to be rather fortuitous83�

81

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The debate over the actual use of triremes in the Egyptian navy and the origin of their crews was undertaken by A� B� Lloyd and L� Basch (Basch, 1969; Lloyd, 1972; Lloyd, 1975b; Basch, 1977; Lloyd, 1980), without arriving in the end at any consensus� The speculative reconstruction I propose reconciles most of their objections. Jeffery, 1990: 355� After the war against Nubia, similarly to Necho II after the repulsion of the Babylonians, Psammetichos II made offerings not only to the Egyptian gods, but also to the “palace guard gods”, an expression possibly pointing to the broad range of origins of these soldiers� Shellal Stele, l� 11–12, with Bakry, 1967: 242–243; Goedicke, 1981: 188, 196; der Manuelian, 1994: 340, 349–350; Haider, 1996: 106; Haider, 2001: 203; Ebbinghaus, 2006: 190�

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I assume, therefore, that the Egyptian kings had to resort to large scale recruitments in the Aegean to face the Babylonian and the Nubian menaces at the same time� Many thousands of Greek (and Karian) warriors were summoned from all over the Eastern Aegean by the Egyptian recruiters� D� There is no doubt that Apries continued the recruiting policy of his father and grandfather. He fought extensively in the Levant in order to disrupt Babylonian domination and, at least in his great naval enterprises against Tyre, Sidon and Cyprus, we have to admit that he employed Greek manpower to man his fleet84� He could not have fought against the combined fleet of the Phoenicians and the Cypriots with only refugees and deserters from among them. Mercenaries were so extensively used that Greeks and Asiatics were sent to garrison Elephantine, at the southern border of Egypt, where they revolted against Apries, probably because they were not able to carry out his orders or observe the required discipline85� The great numbers of mercenaries used by Apries are attested both by Herodotos and by the Elephantine Stela of Amasis� Herodotos mentions no fewer than 30,000 Ionian and Karian mercenaries fighting for Apries against Amasis and the huge discontent of the local warriors against the favors that Apries bestowed on them (Hdt� 2�163)� Both details are confirmed in the ideologically biased version of Amasis’ stela: the H3w. nbt, in large numbers, plundered the Delta in support of Apries and against the local population of Egypt, faithful to the new pharaoh� The greater picture is that of a very ambitious and warlike monarch whose desire to fight on several fronts—in Judah, in Phoenicia, in Libya, against Cyrene, probably also in the south—required lots of mercenaries� Reading Herodotos, it looks like no other Egyptian king used mercenaries as extensively as Apries. However, the war effort might have exhausted Egyptian resources and provoked discontent among the local warriors and the local elites� E� By contrast, Amasis started his reign as the leader of the ‘nationalistic’ uprising of the Egyptian army� The mercenary system inaugurated by Psammetichos I and perfected by his followers because of their urgent needs was likely to disappear� Nevertheless, Amasis is reckoned by

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Also shown by the preservation of the information regarding the campaign and its transmission to Herodotos� Lloyd, 1988: 169, 172� Inscription on the statue Louvre A90, back pillar, col. 6, with Bassir, 2016: 77, 84–85, 88–89. Unfortunately, there are no solid grounds for dating the event or extracting any other details about it�

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Herodotos as philhellene (Hdt� 2�178�1) and the king that took the decision to move the Ionian mercenaries from their camps at the eastern border of Egypt to Memphis (Hdt. 2.154.2). The paradox is evident and it is enhanced by the fact that at the site of ancient Daphnai / Tahpanhes, the greatest Egyptian town on the way to Asia and probably the center of the eastern frontier fortifications system, most Greek pottery comes not from the time of Psammetichos I, as expected, but from that of Amasis86! The paradox disappears if we take into account the systemic constraints of the Egyptian military; whenever in great danger the Saite pharaohs resorted to massive recruitments of mercenaries� Such a great danger occurred only three years after Amasis had usurped the throne: a Babylonian invasion aimed at reinstating Apries� The same Babylonian document that confirms the existence of the campaign sheds light on the means used by Amasis to cope with it: recruitments of Greek warriors from his Greek allies on African soil, the Cyreneans, and from the islands in the middle of the sea87� Thus, nothing changed with Amasis’ usurpation and this pattern went on during all his reign: it comes as no surprise to find significant troops of Ionian and Karian mercenaries trying to stop another Asiatic invasion of Egypt in 525 BC, this time led by the enemies of the Babylonians, the Persians (Hdt. 3.4; 3.11). F. In conclusion, there are several moments of the great conflict over the Levant where we may plausibly infer that the Egyptians needed to recruit large bodies of Aegean mercenaries in order to face the Babylonian threat� The Egyptian mercenary corps, comprising also Asiatics and Africans,

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The site excavated by Petrie at Tell Dafana (Petrie, 1888) was equated for a long time, following his interpretation, with the Camps (Stratopeda) mentioned by Herodotos (Hdt� 2�154), although there were also strong rejections (e�g�, Cook 1937, 230; Boardman 1980, 133–134). Recent research at the site proves that “the fort” discovered by Petrie, preserving a great quantity of Greek potsherds from Amasis’ reign, is in fact a typical Egyptian temple town (Leclère, 2007; Leclère / Spencer, 2014: esp. 135–136). The equation Tell Dafana = Daphnai / Tahpanhes = Stratopeda is no longer acceptable; Tell Dafana should be equated only with Daphnai / Tahpanhes, the great frontier town of Egypt frequented by mercenaries stationed in nearby forts like Migdol� Contrary to the expectations created by Herodotos’ text, evidence for Greek presence at the site is copious, especially for the reign of Amasis� BM 33041 + BM 33053, whose information regarding support from Putu–Yaman (Cyrene) becomes highly plausible in light of Hdt� 2�181, where the alliance between Amasis and the Cyreneans is mentioned� Consequently, the support received by Amasis from the midst of the sea, i�e� recruitment of Greek mercenaries, is highly plausible also�

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became in fact a distinctive force in the Egyptian army88 and had great renown abroad� The undated second prophecy of Jeremiah in the Oracles of Nations89 emphasizes as a great sign of doom specifically the flight of the mercenaries, whom he compares to “fattened calves” (Jer� 46:21)� 3. Contemporary Greek knowledge of the events At the end of the factual reconstruction of the war and its consequences for the Greek merchants and warriors, I would like to ask the following questions: What did the Greeks know about this great confrontation and by what means? How much of their knowledge was preserved? 3.1 News circulation in the archaic age In the first place, we should be fully aware that news spread quickly in antiquity, even between distant spaces� Especially in the East, military and political events of great importance usually found their way to the limelight rather rapidly� Let’s take, for example, Nahum’s prophecy against Nineveh. Whether the book of Nahum is interpreted as prophecy (written before the fall of the city) or as history (a little time after the destruction), it is obvious that the prophet was aware of either great difficulties for Assyria—the war fought against her by the Babylonians and the Medes at the end of the 7th century BC? The civil war between Assurbanipal and his brother, Šamaššumu-ukīn, in the middle of the century?—or the actual fall of Nineveh.

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Cf� the reconstructions of the structure of the Saite army, based on the graffiti of Abu Simbel and other Egyptian and Classical sources: Bernand / Masson, 1957: 14–15; Lloyd, 1975a: 22–23; Pernigotti, 1999: 69–73; Haider, 2001: 204–206, 215; Hauben, 2001: 56–71� In the Masoretic edition of the Book of Jeremiah, the second prophecy against Egypt (Jer. 46:13–28) is bordered by the first prophecy against Egypt, around 605 BC (Jer. 46:1–12), and the prophecy against Philistia, announced before 600 BC (Jer. 47, with Katzenstein, 1983). It might therefore refer to Nebuchadnezzar’s attempts to invade Egypt between 604 and 600 BC� On the other hand, its similarities to other prophecies of destruction in Jer� 42:9–22, 43:8–13, 44:2–30 (where Hophra is mentioned) and the different arrangement of the prophecies in the older Septuagint version point to a date in the time of Apries� The whole series of Oracles against Nations of Jeremiah (46–51) is subject to debate, given its different place and different arrangement in the Septuagint and the Masoretic versions of the Bible� See Ellison, 1967; Watts, 1992; Chae, 2015�

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Moreover, Nahum knew a lot about the sacking of Thebes (No-Amon) in 663 BC, whose fate is compared with that of Nineveh (Nahum 3:8–10)90� If Kahn’s interpretation of Ezekiel’s prophecy against Egypt and especially of Ezek� 30:9 proves right, then this would be another instance of a Jewish prophet being very well acquainted with the politics of his own time and a great testimony that news of the crushing defeat administered to Kush by Psammetichos II travelled fast across thousands of kilometres from the valley of the Nile to southern Babylonia91� Of course, this does not prove that the Greeks were as aware as the Jewish prophets of the events in the East92. It should be remembered that when Guggu of Luddu (Gyges of Lydia) sent an envoy to Assurbanipal, the Assyrian king describes this country as “a district of the other side of the sea, a distant place, whose name, the kings, my fathers, had not heard” (BM 91026, the so-called Rassam Cylinder, ARAB II § 784–785). Two generations earlier, in the time of Sargon II, all the Assyrians knew about the Ionians was that they lived “in the midst of the sea”93� A similar stance of ignorance might be easily assumed as being characteristic of Greek knowledge of Eastern matters in the archaic age� However, this is not the case. As Ray puts it brilliantly, the view that Greece and Rome were something totally dissimilar and separate from the Orient, like they were situated on two different planets, is just a profoundly mistaken modern assumption94. If a great empire like Assyria might have

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Kitchen, 1973: 394; Katzenstein, 1973: 298. Unfortunately, there is no other data available for dating Nahum’s poem except some hints from the poem itself. Cf. Burkert, 1976: 69 who uses the book of Nahum as a parallel for the Greek knowledge of the sacking of Thebes� Kahn, 2008: 147–148� I assume, following Korenjak / Rollinger 2001 that Phokylides fr. 4 Gentili / Prato, mentioning Nineveh, which might have been compared to the prophecy of Nahum, is not a genuine archaic fragment but a later Alexandrine composition. The same account of Sargon’s victory over the Ionians, with a variable number of details, is preserved on several epigraphic supports from Khorsabad and Nimrud� All the variants are collected in Lang / Rollinger, 2010: 230. Ray, 1995: 1185. Cf. Ebbinghaus, 2006: 217: “Für die Samier war der Orient keine entfernte Größe, sondern Teil ihrer politischen, ökonomischen und kulturellen Umwelt. Ihre Kenntnis ägyptischer, levantinischer, anatolischer und vermutlich sogar mesopotamischer Kultur war nicht nur indirekt und durch die im Heraion aufgestellten Objekte vermittelt, sondern ging teilweise auf persönliche Begegnungen zurück�”

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ignored or been unaware of essential facts about the populations living on its fringes, the reciprocal was not true for sure95� Greeks were well aware of many places, events and persons in the East� Even surprising Oriental matters were notorious back in Greece, as was the case of the prostitute Rhodopis of Naukratis who “became so famous that every Greek knew the name of Rhodopis” (Hdt. 2.135.5). And not only were the Greek Naukratite prostitutes well-known in the Aegean, but the Oriental monarchs, too� Let’s take the case of Gyges of Lydia, for example, whose wealth was envied by many Greeks, it seems from a poem of Archilochos (fr. 19 West). The poet of Paros might even have been so interested in the matters of the Lydian court that he probably composed a full poem about the dynastic struggle between Gyges and Kandaules96� One might rightfully say that Lydia does not belong to the same category of Oriental kingdoms as Egypt or Babylon, being in fact part of the same “Aegean-Anatolian koinē”97 as the Greeks� Still, there are clues

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Lanfranchi, 2011: 224–228. See also the haste of the ‘Ionian’ kings to pay tribute to Esarhaddon, probably after his conquest of Egypt in 671 BC (KAH I 75 = AsBbE, 10–12) and the ability of Gyges when approaching the Assyrian court, proof of good knowledge of Assyrian royal protocol (Fuchs, 2010)� Moreover, Oriental ignorance should not be overestimated: one hundred years after Gyges’s embassy to Nineveh, according to a Hellenocentric anecdote narrated by Herodotos (Hdt� 1�76�3; 1�141), Kyros the Great sent messengers to the Eastern Greeks in order to convince them to abandon Kroisos of Lydia, showing surprising awareness of West Anatolian matters (but see a different point of view from the military stratagem recorded in Polyainos, Strat. 8�1)� Strauss Clay, 1986� There are also many other references to the Lydian court and army in fragments of contemporary poets such as Alkman (fr. 2a Page), Sappho (fr. 16, 96 Lobel / Page) and Alkaios (fr. 69 Lobel / Page - Alkaios seems deeply embroiled in political affairs connecting Mytilene with Lydia)� There are many other instances of proof in later Greek historians and writers of the intricate relations between the East Greek elites and the Lydian (and Phrygian) court: Nic. Dam. FGrHist 90 fr� 63 – Melas I of Ephessos was the son in law or the brother in law of Gyges; Nic. Dam. FGrHist 90 fr� 63; Xenophilos FGrHist 767 fr. 1, with Paradiso, 2015 – the first husband of Lyda, Alyattes’ mother, sister or niece of Sadyattes, was Miletos of Ephessos; Hdt� 1�92�2–4 – Alyattes married an Ionian women and had Pantaleon with her, Kroisos’ contender for the throne; Ael� VH 3.26 – Pindaros, tyrant of Ephessos, is the son of Melas II with a daughter of Alyattes; Hdt. 3.48, Diog. Laert. 1.95 – gift sent by Periandros of Corinth to Alyattes (or at least, to a Lydian king, given the chronological problem); Hdt� 1.157–160 – the Lydian rebel, Paktyes, had friends in Kyme; Arist. fr. 611.37 Rose, Poll. Onom. 9�83 – Midas married the daughter of the tyrant of Aeolian Kyme� Brouwers, 2010: 133�

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that archaic Greeks had comparatively good knowledge of other Eastern affairs as well� Firstly, Eastern Greeks knew a lot about Anatolian affairs, probably through the medium of the Lydian kingdom. For example, Strabo tells with great accuracy the story of the Cimmerian invasion and the Scythian victory over the Cimmerians (Str� 1�3�21), preserving information not known by Herodotos� There are solid grounds to believe that Strabo employed an archaic East Greek tradition, independent of that of Herodotos who probably based his account more on Scythian folklore and later Oriental accounts98. I suppose that at least some pieces of information not found in Herodotos were discovered by Strabo in the elegiac poems of Kallinos of Ephesos, while the provenance of the others remains unknown99� Some decades later, the fighting between Lydia and the Medes over Anatolia, a conflict that seems to have been in many ways similar to the war between the Babylonians and Egypt over the Levant, was certainly known to the Greeks long before Herodotos’ inquiries, as some of them, among whom the same Antimenidas and Alkaios, could even have taken part in it100�

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Ivantchik, 1999: 508. Ivantchik assumes that Herodotos gained knowledge of Scythian myths from contemporary hellenized Scythians� However, part of the same Scythian folkloric tradition seems to be known by Alkman of Sparta, probably Lydian in origin (middle of the 7th century BC), who mentions kolaxaios as a rather well-known attribute for horses. Kolaxais is the name of a Scythian king from the myth recounted by Hdt. 4�5–7, almost certainly of Scythian origin as the Greek form renders rather closely the Iranian *Hvar + xšaya� Strabo probably carried out serious research on the matter, resorting to archaic Greek poetry now lost and already obscure for his contemporaries� He recounted the story at length in a passage where he addresses the very fact that people do not know details of some migrations from distant times. Strabo uses Kallinos extensively for the ancient history of Asia Minor (more than half of the extant fragments of Kallinos are preserved in the Geography), especially for the destruction caused by the Cimmerians and the Trerians� There is at least one other passage where Strabo uses Kallinos in the same manner as here, to complement Herodotos (Str� 14�4�3, trans� Jones: “We are told by Herodotos that the Pamphylians belonged to a combination of peoples who went forth from Troy with Amphilochos and Kalchas� Though most of them remained behind, some were scattered over the face of the earth� According to Kallinos, Kalchas died at Klaros, but the peoples crossed the Taurus under Mopsos and partly stayed in Pamphylia and partly were distributed through Cilicia and Syria as far as Phoenicia”). The relevant sources are Hdt� 1�16�2, 1�74, 1�103�2; Cic� Div. 1.49/112; Plin. HN 2�53; Solin� 15�16; Euseb� Chron. (Armenian version - Karst 187, St� Jerome – Fotheringham

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Secondly, Eastern Greeks knew Egypt quite well, too� “Thebes of the Hundred Gates” (Thēbai hekatompyloi) is mentioned already in the Iliad (Hom� Il. 4�406, 9�383), while Egypt makes repeated appearances in the Odyssey (Hom� Od. 3�299–303; 4�81–85; 4�125–127 etc�)101� The episode of the unfortunate raid led by the Cretan prince (Hom� Od. 14�244–291; 17�419–444) seems to contain a faithful reference to the political situation in the Delta before the unification of Psammetichos I102� The evidence of onomastics is also notable� The last tyrant of Corinth, the nephew of Periandros, was named Psammetichos (Nic. Dam. FGrHist 90 fr� 60�1)� Even if we admit that there were no diplomatic or commercial ties between the Kypselids and the Saites, which would have also resulted in the name given to Periandros’ nephew, the simple fact that he bore it is a clear-cut proof of the fame and popularity of the house of Sais among the Greeks103� Such popularity would not have arisen without a great amount of knowledge about the deeds of the pharaohs bearing this name� Furthermore, we should not exclude the utility of the Lydian connection in receiving actual information about Egypt and why not, indirectly, the Mesopotamian-based empires� Both the Assyrian document mentioning Gyges and the anecdote preserved by Polyainos, Strat. 7�3 where a Karian friend helps Psammetichos I in his military and political quest to reunite the Delta, emphasize the good Anatolian connections of the Saite ruler, either with Lydia, with Karia, or with both� Moreover, the Assyrian scribe emphatically notes that, besides the soldiers dispatched by Gyges to his Egyptian ally, the embassies sent to Assurbanipal ceased (ARAB II §785), showing a well-reasoned change in the foreign policy of the Lydian king� Given the previous discussion of Greek knowledge of Anatolian affairs, is it really unsound to assume that at least some Greek elites with good

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178). P. Oxy. 2506 fr. 77, 98, 102 (1st century – beginning of 2nd century AD) gives some insights on Alkaios’ and Antimenidas’ possible involvement in this war, through the Lydian connection (Page, 1963: 44–45; Huxley, 1965; Treu, 1966; Barner, 1967; Cobbe, 1967)� See also Hdt. 2.116, with Nagy, 2010: 75–78, who explains in detail Herodotos’ demonstration of Homer’s knowledge of the myth of Helen in Egypt� Carpenter, 1946: 94–97; Austin, 1970: 12; etc� There was at least one other bearer of the same name, Psammetichos of Theokles, mentioned in the great inscription of Abu Simbel (ML 7a)� See more about name-giving in Vlassopoulos, 2013: 133–135.

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connections in Lydia and Karia shared part of Gyges’ knowledge of Near Eastern politics104? In conclusion, there are sufficient sources which show that news travelled quickly and over long distances in the Eastern Mediterranean, even as early as the archaic age, and that Greece did not lie outside the area where information about the great events of the East was available� 3.2 Information carriers In the preceding section I pointed out that essential information circulated rapidly and over long distances in the ancient Eastern Mediterranean and that Greeks were not isolated from the Eastern news circuit� But who used to spread the news, in general, and who might have particularly spread the news in Greece about the great conflict over the Levant? Merchants (and other individuals who counted trade among the activities they sailed for) brought back many pieces of political and military information about the lands they visited� We are usually made aware of this when new lands are discovered. For example, Theokles, an Athenian (in fact, more probably a Chalkidian—see Hellanikos FGrHist 4 fr� 82) who was borne out of his way by the winds to Siciliy, is said by Ephoros to have provided valuable information about the political and economic conditions on the island, necessary for some Chalkidians, Megarians and other people of Ionian and Dorian stock to set the expeditions for founding Naxos and Megara Hyblaia (Ephoros FGrHist 70 fr� 137 = Str. 6.2.2; cf. Thuc. 6.3). In a similar way, Kolaios from Samos, living ca� 630 BC, while he was en route to Egypt, had his ship blown by the winds to Tartessos in Spain (Hdt� 4�152)� He came back from there not only with great wealth but also with precious information which might have influenced the Phokaians to purposely send expeditions to this rich kingdom, whose king became their friend (Hdt� 1�163)105. The Phokaians not only brought back marvellous stories about Tartessos to Greece, but they also spread the news at the other end of the Mediterranean about the Persian expansion in Anatolia. Likewise, the Samians who sailed with

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Gyges’ good knowledge of Assyrian politics and court ceremonial is affirmed by Fuchs, 2010� See the reconstruction of Odysseus’ trip in the Western Mediterranean, proposed by Carpenter, 1946: 102–112, esp� 104–105 who compares it with that of Kolaios, assigns it to the same second half of the 7th century BC and imagines a similar impact on Ionian knowledge�

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Kolaios came back not only with information concerning Tartessos but also with news of the Theran colonization attempts in Libya, recounted to them by Korobios, the Cretan who led the Therans to the island of Platea. Korobios himself was able to lead the Therans to Platea after he had been blown there by the wind some years before! Korobios was only a murex fisherman, but Herodotos says that the Therans sought in Crete “any Cretan and other traveler there who had travelled to Libya” and was able to provide them information about this land (Hdt� 4�151)� The events narrated in these sources underscore how complicated the networks of Greek merchants and other seafarers in the 8th and 7th century BC were and how much diverse information and news circulated through them� Although the evidence should not be pressed too far106, it is indeed tremendous to see how merchants circulated valuable and diverse information about Sicily, Spain, Libya, Anatolia and, certainly though not mentioned, Egypt� Returning to the specific subject of this paper, the war between Babylonia and Egypt for the Levant, we might easily imagine the terrified accounts of Greek merchants who had to abandon their profitable trade in northern Syria� Even more acceptable for us is the image of Sappho’s brother, Charaxos, returned from one of his frequent lucrative trips to Egypt at the end of the 7th century BC, telling those Lesbians who waited long for him not only details of his love affair with Doricha but also stories of the military achievements of the Egyptian kings107� Mercenaries, whose numbers increased during those troubled days, returned to the Aegean, too, although it might be assumed that some of them died or were killed in battle, while others were taken captive or chose

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Graham, 1988: 305–308 reveals there are some historical inconsistencies in Ephoros’ account, but his statement “Ephorus’ account is entirely worthless” is exaggerated: Theokles (Thukles) was probably one of the Chalkidian traders who frequented the Italian shores searching for metals and who found the eastern coast of Sicily attractive for colonial establishments based on the information he gathered among the locals, while Naxos was for a long time the main port of entry to Sicily for settlers coming from Greece� Cf� Dominguez, 2006: 256–259� Alongside fr. 3, 5, 7, 15 Lobel / Page, the recent fragments of Sappho’s poems, published in Obbink, 2014 and discussed in Ferrari, 2014, West, 2014, etc�, shed more light on Charaxos’ repeated travels to Egypt, his love affair with Doricha (despite Hdt. 2.135 and the other ancient sources, almost certainly another Naukratite prostitute, living one generation before the more famous Rhodopis) and the tense wait for his return by his relatives�

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to settle in Egypt, like their forbears in the time of Psammetichos I108� Their knowledge of the events should have been more or even much more comprehensive than that of the merchants; there is sufficient evidence that some of them were appointed to key positions in the Saite military and administration109. The most conspicuous example of a returning highranking mercenary, presumably with good knowledge of the situation in Egypt, is Pedon of Amphinneos who, somewhere in Ionia at the end of the 7th century BC or at the beginning of the 6th century BC, dedicated a typical Egyptian cube statue bearing a Greek inscription which reads: Pedon dedicated me, the son of Amphinneos, having brought me from Egypt; to him the Egyptian king – Psammetichos – gave as a reward of valor a golden bracelet and a city, on account of his virtue�110

Unfortunately, it is difficult to choose which of the two pharaohs of this name is mentioned here� Nevertheless, it is not a very important detail� More significant are the tales that Pedon told his compatriots when he returned home, giving details about his deeds of bravery—commemorated by his dedication—and their political and military context. Such a man who boasted about rewards received in Egypt certainly had a lot to recount and there were probably many others like him111� There were also other vectors that carried information concerning the conflict in Levant into the Aegean. Easterners should not be discounted from spreading the news of what had happened� Hdt� 2�159�3 mentions the dedications made by Necho at the temple of Branchidai, at Didyma, after the great victory over Nebuchadnezzar of

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Hdt� 2�154� The Memphite gravestones of Karians and Greeks, for which see Masson / Yoyotte, 1956; Herbert, 1972; Masson, 1978; Kammerzell, 1993; Adiego, 2007: 33–79, passim, confirm the veridicity of Herodotos’ account. E.g., Wahibre-em-achet, son of Alexikles (3rksḳrs) and Zenodote (Snttj), ḫtm bj.tj: ‘sealer of the King of Lower Egypt’ (Stockholm Medelhavsmuseet NME 98–101; Leiden AM 4, with Grallert, 2001), or Phanes of Halikarnassos, en toisi epikouroisi logou ou smikrou epistamenon te ta peri Aigypton atrekestata: “with no small authority among the mercenaries and having an accurate knowledge of the matters of Egypt”; gnōmen ikanos kai ta polemika alkimos: “of a good intellect and stout in war” (Hdt� 3�4)� Şahin, 1987: no. 1, 1–2, pl. 1–2; Ampolo / Bresciani, 1988: 237–53; Masson / Yoyotte: 1988: 171–179� A century later, Mandrokles of Samos gave a similar dedication in the Heraion where he recounted faithfully, in picture and in verse, how he built a pontoon bridge over Bosphorus for Dareios’ I army (Hdt. 4.88).

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601/600 BC. They were not just typical expensive and luxurious objects but the armor or the clothes worn in battle by the pharaoh itself, and thus they should have commanded the greatest curiosity of the Ionians: information on the motives of such a dedication certainly was known in Greece, at least by the priests of the sanctuary. Yet I assume there were many more people who were told about the great victory� The memory of such an unusual gift and its reason might have been preserved even after the Persian sacking of the sanctuary, as Herodotos’ narrative proves112� Similar dedications were also made to other sanctuaries in the Aegean, like the aforementioned shrine deposed in the sanctuary of Athena from Ialysos. Whether it was deposed by the grateful Egyptian king or his high emissaries113, or even by returning mercenaries of high rank114, the effects should have been the same as in the case of the war equipment sent to Didyma� Refugees might have also been vectors of information regarding such a great conflict, sharing fresh information about the clashes in the East. There are good reasons to admit the presence in Crete of North Syrian refugees who fled in the 9th century BC because of the Assyrian onslaught115 and this should also have happened as a consequence of the Babylonian destructions in the Levant, especially of cities like Ashkelon, Gaza and Tyre who had trade connections with the Aegean116�

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The hypothesis that Herodotos derived his knowledge from Hekataios of Miletos is very tempting� Cf� Brown, 1978: 73–74� Kousoulis / Morenz, 2007: 184–188� Like a certain Smyrdes, son of Syndos or Syndes, who dedicated two statues in Rhodes, one in the temple of Athena from Kameiros, the other one in the Atabyrion (Rhodes E7020)� See Kourou, 2004: 12–17, Kousoulis / Morenz, 2007: 188� Boardman, 2005; D’Acunto, 2013: 476, 482, who specifically assume the existence of refugees, in the greater debate over the presupposed Oriental imports and immigrants in Crete (see Hoffman, 1997: 153–246; 252–255; Demand, 2011: 235–238)� There are many clues of the great displacements provoked by the war between Babylon and his foes: during the second siege of Jerusalem, many Jews fled to Moab, Ammon and Edom (Jer. 40:11, 43:5); after the murder of Gedaliah, son of Achikam, lots of Judahites fled to Egypt after the fall of Jerusalem (Jer� 41:16-43:7); Jeremiah’s Oracles against the Nations frequently envisage exile as the consequence of the Babylonian wrath (Jer. 48:6; 49:5; 49:8; 49:30, 49:36, cf. 50:28); political opponents had to flee because of the dominating factions in their states, like the prophet Uriah was forced to flee to Egypt (Jer� 26: 20-23)� Cf� Kaplan, 2015: 398� For Eastern refugees in front of the Assyrian and Babylonian expansions as possible dedicants to Hellenic sanctuaries, see Ebbinghaus, 2006: 203. For later Persian ‘political’ refugees to Greece, see Hdt� 3�160�2, Ktesias FGrHist 688 fr� 14�45; Hdt� 4�43�7�

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Besides these categories specifically related to war, there might also have been other people with good knowledge of Eastern customs, and presumably Eastern events, who brought news to Greece, e�g�, Oriental travelers and pilgrims� The Heraion of Samos is renowned as the archaic Greek sanctuary the most conspicuously gifted with orientalia, therefore it should have been a sacred place known well beyond Ionia. The discovery of some bronze Babylonian statues of the last quarter of the 7th century BC, depicting a bearded man with a dog, and their alleged identification as sacred objects to the goddess Gula of Isin, a deity with similar attributes to Hera, might be proof of dedicants with very good knowledge of both cults, Mesopotamian worshippers, or Levantines, or even Greeks very well acquainted with the Near East117, visiting the Heraion just before the start of the war� Thus, there were many possible vectors for transmitting news about the great conflict between Egypt and Babylonia and we might expect to find more than a few pieces of evidence for it in Greek literature� 3.3 Greek contemporary evidence for the war Nevertheless, this is not the case� The only Greek contemporary evidence for the war is represented by two fragments of the lost poems of Alkaios of Mytilene: fr. 48 and fr. 350 Lobel / Page. They only accidentally preserve information about the conflict between the Babylonians and the Egyptians; Alkaios was in fact concerned with his brother’s return from the East where he was embroiled in the conflict. Looking beyond modern restorations, as Fantalkin and Lytle sagely invited us to do in a recent article, the evidence seems to be even more meager than at first glance. While fr. 48 is a very fragmentary papyrus (P.Oxy 1233, fr. 11) where only the last words of the lines are preserved, starting with line no� 5, …the sea …to be carried; …he might be carried …destroys …of/from holy Babylon …Askalon …to start up chilling ? …from the summit. …and good …the house of Hades …to think …wreaths for us …all these …-selves (trans� Campbell)

117

See Kyrieleis, 1979; Braun-Holzinger, 1984: 93–96; Ebbinghaus, 2006: 213–214; Mylonopoulos, 2008: 368–369, mainly emphasizing the foreign dedicant hypothesis�

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fr� 350 is the result of conjoining a passage from Strabo, where he speaks of Mytileneans of great renown (Str� 13�2�3) Mytilene produced famous men: in olden times Pittakos, one of the Seven Wise Men; and the poet Alkaios, and his brother Antimenidas, who according to Alkaios performed a great feat while fighting as ally of the Babylonians and rescued them from trouble by killing a warrior who, he says, was only one palm’s breadth short of five royal cubits (trans. Campbell)

with two verses preserved as an example in Hephaistion’s monumental inquiry in metrics (Heph� Ench� 10�3, 2nd century AD) The acatalectic (incessant) form [of antispastic trimeter] with only the final meter iambic is called Asclepiad, e�g� Alkaios: ‘You have come from the ends of the earth with your hilt of your sword ivory bound with gold’ (trans� Campbell, adapted)

as well as a comparison used in a rhetorical figure by Libanios, in one of his orations addressed to emperor Julian (Lib� Or� 13�5, 362 AD) So may I fittingly begin with the words of Alkaios of Lesbos? ‘You have come from the ends of the earth’, though not as he put it, with parade of ‘hilt ivory bound with gold’ but with heart of pure gold directing the world aright… (trans� Norman, adapted)

From these scraps of information two poems were reconstructed: that of fr� 350, starting with ‘You have come from the ends of the earth’, followed by Strabo’s paraphrase ‘fighting as an ally of the Babylonians’ and ending with the deed of killing the Goliath-like enemy, where even the metrics were reconstructed; and that of fr� 48 involving Babylon, destruction and death, Ashkelon, a voyage on sea and wreaths for Alkaios and somebody else� Quinn ingeniously put all of this together in 1961118 and made the historical reconstruction that Alkaios sang the heroic deeds of his brother, Antimenidas, who fought as a mercenary for the Babylonians, taking part in the siege of Ashkelon and getting back home with a prize for his valor (a gift like Pedon’s? or maybe booty?). This reconstruction has quickly become the unquestioned orthodoxy, as indeed all of Quinn’s conjectures seem valid and logical� Yet Fantalkin and Lytle are right to question all this conjoining� Although Quinn’s

118

Quinn, 1961�

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reconstruction is still very tempting, theoretically, it is possible to discover three different poems relating to three different subjects in these fragments� We should avoid building overly elaborate sandcastles on such weak grounds� Therefore, we should extract from Alkaios’ fragments only the following pieces of information and hypotheses with the highest degrees of probability: 1� Antimenidas actually fought in the Near East (certain) and killed a very dangerous opponent in battle (most probable), while being in the Babylonian ranks (probable)119, afterwards coming back from there with a precious hilt (possible);

119

I have demonstrated above that there are no historical reasons (Fantalkin / Lytle, 2016: 102–110) to refuse the possibility of Antimenidas’ recruitment by the Babylonians, especially if he had been in Egyptian service before and was captured by the enemy, a very appropriate hypothesis given that Alkaios was mentioned as a visitor of Egypt by Strabo (Str. 1.2.30 = fr. 432 Voigt) and some scholars represented him as a mercenary (relevant bibliography in Fantalkin / Lytle 2016: 106 n. 69). Neither do I think that the philological reasons (Fantalkin / Lytle, 2016: 97–102) for refuting Strabo’s testimony are correct: 1� the fact whether Strabo used Alkaios’ poem directly or a secondary Hellenistic source is almost irrelevant (the second case would add a certain amount of risk for unfaithful transmission, nevertheless limited; besides, given the popularity of Alkaios even in Roman times, I believe that Strabo used the original poem also, not only the Hellenistic commentary or biography); 2� the discussion on Strabo’s preference of symmacheō/symmachos over epikoureō/epikouros rather makes me think that if Strabo had had a poem of Alkaios in front of him mentioning Antimenidas as an epikouros to the Babylonians then we should expect him to paraphrase it exactly as he did; 3. the assumption that Strabo, lacking knowledge of the military situation in the East at the end of 7th century BC, found some ‘evidence’ in his source that provided grounds for his inference is also doubtful: in Herodotos (invoked in Fantalkin / Lytle, 2016: 102 n. 54), whom he used extensively, Strabo was able to find out that the Egyptians used a lot of Greek mercenaries and also that Psammetichos besieged Ashdod for 29 years (Hdt� 2�157), while references to Greek mercenaries employed by Babylonians, or to the Babylonian presence in Philistia, were lacking. I would certainly expect that Strabo mistakenly thought a Babylonian mercenary to be in fact Egyptian, rather than the opposite as the two scholars imply. I also express my serious doubts regarding the presumed mockery of these lines (Fantalkin / Lytle 2016: 106): Sappho’s deep concern for his left brother, the hardships suffered by Alkaios’ faction and the context in which the fragment is cited by Strabo are, in my opinion, solid arguments for rejecting a presumed pejorative attitude towards Antimenidas�

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2� Alkaios knew of the siege and destruction of Ashkelon by Babylon in 604 BC (most probable), being informed by his brother about it (possible)120� This is considerably little. But I wish to emphasize that this is the information we can use in a more or less secure way, based on the preserved extent of the poems (level 1 of knowledge – preserved knowledge). It is logically sound to assert, however, that the poems contained much more information (level 2 of knowledge – expressed knowledge) which represent only the selected part, artistically useful, of the poet’s entire knowledge of the events (level 3 of knowledge – actual knowledge)� Unfortunately, we cannot assess accurate proportions between these three levels of knowledge. However, it is certain that the expressed knowledge is far smaller than the actual knowledge, as Strabo unequivocally states121: Homer did not think it worth mentioning, especially to those who were acquainted with the fact, that the Nile had many mouths, since this is a common feature of numerous other rivers� Alkaios does not mention it, although he tells us he had been in Egypt� (trans� Hamilton / Falconer)

The preserved knowledge can be described as minimal, much more limited than the expressed knowledge. In 1963, when Denys Page published in the 29th volume of Oxyrhynchi Papyri fragments of a commentary of Alkaios’ poems or his biography (P.Oxy. 2506, fr. 6a, 77, 98, 102, 105), this gave a new and inspiring insight on the great wealth of information his verses contained, dealing with Lesbian and Anatolian archaic politics, which nobody was able to presume before� Allieni, Amardis, “the king of the Lydians”, the action at the bridge, the war between Alyattes and Astyages were (totally) new characters and events featured in relation to Alkaios and his brother, Antimenidas, on the basis of fragments of his poems� Who knows how many entirely lost poems of Alkaios dealt with Egypt, with Babylon or their struggle? How many of the elliptic fragments we have are drawn from such a type of poetry? In fr. 130B Lobel / Page, eschatiai refers to the place of Alkaios’ exile somewhere beyond certain limits on the Lesbian island, but what about the same term used in fr� 338 Lobel / Page, consisting only of one verse preserved by Hephaistion

120 121

Cf� Tandy, 2004: 190� Str. 1.2.30 = fr. 432 Voigt. See Bowra, 1961: 135, Podlecki, 2011: 72–73, admitting the truth of the information�

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the metrician – kai tis ep’eschatiaisin oikeis (‘and someone living on the limits’)? Sure, fr� 338 resembles a lot fr� 130B, but it can be also compared with ek peratōn gās (‘from the ends of the earth’) of fr� 350 and Ōkeanō gās apu peiratōn (‘from Ocean, the limits of the earth’) of fr� 345122, possible proof of Alkaios’ acquaintance with Oriental political or natural life matters� The same questions might be asked for other poets of the same age who are associated with Egypt or Cyprus, like Sappho and Solon123� It is noteworthy that the expressed and actual knowledge of the Greek archaic poets was less developed compared to the actual knowledge of those who traded and fought extensively in Egypt and the Levant. The latter was seldom expressed in writing at a time when Greeks used their writing skills with aims other than recording historical events� We are fortunate enough to possess one instance of it, in the graffiti of Abu Simbel, recording the contemporary conflict between Egypt and Nubia, intimately related to the course of events in the Levant: When king Psammatichos came to Elephantine, those who sailed with Psammatichos son of Theokles wrote these; and they came above Kerkis as far as the river allowed; and Potasimto had command of those of foreign speech and Amasis of the Egyptians; and Archon the son of Amoibichos and Peleqos the son of Eudamos wrote us. (trans. ML 7a, adapted) Anaxanor the Ialyssian […] when king Psammetichos first marched his army [with Amasis/with Potasimto] (ML 7g)

In this rather unique instance of archaic Greek expressed knowledge on Eastern matters, other than poetry, we see how many details the Greeks knew about the operations they took part in: itinerary of campaigns, leaders, structure of the armies. In similar Semitic graffiti, their Phoenician comrades also mentioned “the steppes of Kush” (CIS I 112), showing

122

123

Scholion to Ar� Av. 1410� The original verses of Alkaios describe a species of migratory ducks and they are quoted by the scholiast because Aristophanes used a slightly changed paraphrase in his comedy, probably because Alkaios’ poem became a popular drinking song in classical Athens (Cazzato, 2016: 204)� Although the description is highly realistic (Wilkinson, 2013: 32), the mention in Alkaios is interrogative—might these verses represent an echo of Alkaios’ Oriental experience? Cf. Hom. Il. 3�3–7 mentioning the cranes migration to the ‘streams of the Ocean’ (ep’ Ōkeanoio rhoaōn)� Solon fr� 19, 28 West mention the Canopic branch of the Nile, in Egypt and Soloi, in Cyprus. Nevertheless, Solon’s Eastern sojourn in the first half of the 6th century BC is disputed� Noussia-Fantuzzi, 2010: 297–307�

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their knowledge of the enemy and of the theatre of operations, knowledge which was certainly shared by the Greeks124� Leaving aside the written expression of knowledge contemporary to the Levantine war and moving to the hypothetical kernels of information on Eastern matters found in the works of later historians, we enter the fascinating realm of collective memories and history, admirably explored theoretically by Halbwachs, Nora and Cornerton125� Are there any references to the Babylonian-Egyptian war in classical and Hellenistic histories? Were they emanations of archaic Greek knowledge of the events or did they result from the use of contemporary Oriental sources, both written documents and folk-tales? Several recent studies emphasize the dim presence of the Babylonian kingdom in the classical Greek historical narratives126. In short, their main conclusions are the following� Herodotos knew something about historical Assyrian rulers (2�141 – Sennacherib; 2�150 – Sardanapallos) and of Babylonian kings, although they are not viewed as true imperial successors of the Assyrians, whose heritage was assumed instead by the Medes� His knowledge of Babylonian kings and queens is deeply confused, as the figures of Labynetos and Nitokris are inconsistent with the real characters in history and Nebuchadnezzar is not even mentioned. In absence of his Assyrian logoi, which he announced twice in his preserved work, it is difficult to assess his degree of actual knowledge or get any clear picture of his sources� Ktesias’s account seems to have been a work of high literary artistry and serious historical doubt, combining Oriental folk-tales, popular at the Persian court, with his intention to create a pamphlet of Herodotos. All his Assyrian kings and queens are rather characters of fantasy, while the only Babylonian ruler he mentions is Belesys (Nabopolassar), a subordinate figure encompassing the common Greek stereotypes about Chaldeans. Practically, there was no trace of a Babylonian empire, only a line of imperial descent that runs from Assyria to Media and then to Persia. Surprisingly for modern readers, Ktesias account superseded that of Herodotos�

124 125 126

For the Phoenician graffiti of Abu Simbel, see Schmitz, 2010� I especially refer to Halbwachs, 1925; Nora, 1989; Cornerton, 1989. Bichler, 2004; Tuplin, 2013; Heller, 2015; Gufler / Madreiter, 2015, in addition to classical works like Drews, 1973�

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It was only Alexander’s campaigns that brought Greek historians into contact with other versions of Near East history than those perpetrated by the Persian elites, and with Oriental scholars who were interested and able to correct Greek misconceptions by turning to the written records of the East� Megasthenes’ and Berossos’ accounts are illustrative� The uneasy conclusion is that if one wants to find evidence of archaic Greek kernels of information about the war in later sources, one has to search for them in sources before the first half of the 4th century BC� It is curious how easily knowledge of Neo-Babylonian kingship and its presence in the Levant disappeared in Greece. There is probably a complex blend of factors that led to this outcome, from Persian imperial ideology that sought to eliminate any possible challenges to Achaemenid legitimacy, to Babylonian oblivion127 and the accident of preservation in the works of late archaic and classical logographoi and historians such as Hekataios of Miletos (whose preserved fragments of Periodos gēs mysteriously exclude Babylonian geographical knowledge), Hellanikos of Mytilene (who is credited to have written Assyrian logoi, lost nowadays128) and Herodotos (whose Assyrian logoi always remain a matter of dispute)129� By far the most tempting approach is to search the work of Herodotos for clues about actual archaic Greek knowledge as it is the most complete of all the others. As I assume there was indeed at least the intention of adjoining some Assyrian logoi130, I do not expect to find very much in what we have now� But there are places where additional data might be sought� The scrappy account of the city of Babylon and other sketchy passages of the history of Asia are obvious candidates for such a search� The references to Labynetos (Hdt� 1�74�3, 1�77�2, 1�188�1), a clear deformation of the name Nabonidus, are the most conspicuous instances of knowledge of Babylonian political history� But the Herodotean account of two, possibly even three different Labynetoi shows great confusion over these episodes of Babylonian history, and these difficulties were never

127 128 129

130

Cf� Drews, 1973: 80, 181, n� 123� Cf� FGrHist 4 fr� 63, with regard to Sardanapallos, and Tuplin, 2013: 179� For these historians and other late archaic and classical Greek writers, like Dionysios of Miletos, Charon of Lampsakos or Xanthos of Lydia, who might have had some knowledge of Assyrian (and Babylonian) geography and history, albeit probably limited (but not so limited as implied by the cited author), see Helm, 1980: 235–264� Cf� Drews, 1970; MacQueen, 1978 on Hdt� 1�106�2, 1�184�

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overcome by historians, classicists and assyriologists� What is the origin of such a murky account? Is this the result of misunderstanding the stories told by Herodotos’ hypothetical Babylonian hosts? Is this Greek tradition based on genuine archaic knowledge, at least in part? Is this the result of educated guess or the fault of copyists? All at the same time131? I would not be so eager to dismiss any possibility of some remote Greek memories of the Babylonian kings who played on the international stage of Anatolia and Levant, memories which somehow influenced the reception of new information from some 5th century BC Persian subjects. As I have already noted, Hdt. 2.158–159, part of the Egyptian logoi, offers a rare glimpse of the hostilities between the Egyptians and the Babylonians, referred to (confusedly and confusingly) as Syrians132, most probably as a consequence of the bias of his sources in Egypt. In the same logoi there are some other interesting references to Assyrian kings: Sanacharibos, campaigning against Egypt (Hdt� 2�141), and Sardanapallos (Hdt. 2.150). Psammetichos I is plausibly said to have fled to Syria after his father was killed by the Ethiopians (Hdt� 2�152�1), like in other similar occasions recorded by Assyrian sources133� Thus, there are a few references to the history of Levant� Nevertheless, there is no mention of the Assyrians in the return of Psammetichos (who appears as being brought back by Egyptians, not Assyrians!134), nor of their domination over the Dodecarchs or of how Psammetichos got rid of them. There is a clear ideological bias that commanded the obliteration of the Assyrians from the account, as Lloyd keenly observed135� The same bias appears towards the Babylonians: their name is always omitted or replaced in Herodotos’ narrative of the pharaohs’ deeds� The answer for this situation might rest in a comparison with Egyptian sources: in the Elephantine stela of Amasis, Apries is depicted as the chief factor of the invasion of 568/567 BC, while the Babylonians, designated simply as ‘Asiatics’, are given a wholly secondary role as Apries’ soldiers136�

131

132 133 134 135 136

There is a huge literature on the matter and no consensus� Cf� Melkman, 1940; Drews, 1973: 55–56, 79–80; Burkert, 2004: 45–46; Heller, 2015: 339 etc� Cf� Bichler, 2004: 500 n� 6� Kitchen, 1973: 393; Onasch, 1990: 155–156; Kahn, 2006: 264� Cf� Spalinger, 1976: 133, 136� Lloyd, 1988: 117� Jansen-Winkeln, 2014: 151�

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Thus, it becomes clear that the historical account of the Saites in the Herodotean Egyptian logoi, based on descendants of the Greek settlers in Egypt, Egyptian priests and autopsy (Hdt� 2�147) suffer from a nationalistic Egyptian bias that contaminated or replaced the unwritten Greek memories of the Babylonian role in the Levantine war� Yet we are lucky that there are even these pieces of knowledge left� This brings us to one last, but important remark. If kernels of archaic history of Greek settled regions outside Greece like Sicily, southern Italy or even Egypt (like the clashes of Magdolos and Kadytis) were known in the classical age, this is because continuous settlement there assured the preservation of some tales long enough to be recorded in writing by historians when history was invented� But what might classical historians of the 5th century BC have recorded when there was no such continuity of settlement in the Levant or at least of habitual presence in the few great ports of the Syrian and Cilician coasts, due exactly to the Babylonian– Egyptian war that ravaged the area? Without communities to preserve memories, thus shaping and reshaping their identities, knowledge of the events almost completely faded away in just a few generations137� Final remarks The confrontation between Babylonia and Egypt over the Levant was one of the defining characteristics of the geopolitical situation in the Eastern Mediterranean after the fall of Nineveh. It had significant consequences for the Levantine region as a whole and indirectly for the Greeks� Some traditional trade networks were severely disrupted during the protracted confrontation and the Greek commercial presence in the Levant decreased� On the other hand, the demand for Greek heavy infantrymen and sailors increased, especially from the Saite kings, although perhaps Aegean warriors were employed at a much smaller scale by Babylon, too� There are significant reasons for assuming that a proportion of the archaic Greeks knew something about the events taking place in the Levant, while

137

Cf� Helm, 1980: 62–63, 314 who also draws the comparison with the Western colonies, but misuses the comparative lack of memory in the East as a proof for sparse settlement and presence during the Assyrian period because he does not take into account the basic need of physical continuity of the communities in order to accomplish the preservation and construction of their memories� For the socially and culturally determined limits of oral traditions in archaic and classical Greece, see Murray, 1987: 95-108; Thomas, 1992: 107-112�

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some of them from families and communities well connected with the Orient might have actually possessed quite rich knowledge of what was happening. Information travelled quickly through the networks created in the Eastern Mediterranean at the beginning of the first millennium BC, and the Greeks were a part of them� Nevertheless, there are very few clues about the war in Greek sources written at the time, and later� Modern researchers might assume that the Greeks were totally ignorant of the great geopolitical struggle in the Levant� The paradox is apparent. Limited Greek evidence about the war should not be used to draw bold historical conclusions, but historiographic and methodological remarks instead, with more attention paid to the delicate relation between memory and history� We should not press the argumentum ex silentio too far, especially when studying the archaic Greek age. Unlike the contemporary Oriental societies, archaic Greek society was characterized by a very low degree of expression in written form of their actual knowledge of political and military events� Writing records of facts and phenomena like wars started in Greece at the end of the archaic age, so that expressed knowledge of political and military events before the second half of the 6th century BC has always been tangential and accidental� The survival of these written bits of information, as well as that of oral traditions, was even more prone to accident; even in the classical age the preserved knowledge of archaic political events was severely diminished compared to the expressed and especially to the actual knowledge of the archaic Greeks� Fortunately for modern researchers, Oriental societies were much more prone to expressing in writing their actual knowledge of political and military events� The obvious consequence is that developments which could have been considered inexistent in the light of the meager volume of Greek preserved knowledge are progressively taking shape as new Oriental documents are discovered and published� The Great War between Babylon and Egypt over the Levant, relatively well known from Oriental documents but quasi-inexistent in Greek sources despite having significant consequences for the Greeks, provides strong reasons for adopting a methodological caveat against argumenta ex silentio in the research of archaic Greece, in general, and its interaction with the Near East, in particular�

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Ray, J.D., 1995: “Soldiers to Pharaoh: The Carians of Southwest Anatolia”. In J. M� Sasson (ed�): Civilizations of the Ancient Near East, 2nd vol� New York: Charles Scribner. Pp. 1185–1194. Redford, D.B., 1992: Egypt, Canaan and Israel in Ancient Times. Princeton: Princeton University Press. — 1998: “Report on the 1993 and 1997 Seasons at Tell Qedwa”. JARCE 35, 45–60. — 2000: “New Light on Egypt’s Stance toward Asia, 610–586 BCE”. In S. L. McKenzie / ‎T. Römer (eds.): Rethinking the Foundations. Historiography in the Ancient World and in the Bible. Essays in Honour of John Van Seters� Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 294� Berlin: de Gruyter. Pp. 183–195. Riis, J. P., 1970: Sūkas I. The north-east sanctuary and the first settling of Greeks in Syria and. Palestine. Publications of the Carlsberg Expedition to Phoenicia 1� Copenhagen: Munksgaard� Schmitz, Ph.C., 2010: “The Phoenician Contingent in the Campaign of Psammetichos II Against Kush”. JEGH 3, 321–337. Schipper, B., 2011: “Egyptian Imperialism after the New Kingdom. The 26th Dynasty and the Southern Levant”. In S. Bar et al. (eds.): Egypt, Canaan and Israel: History, Imperialism, Ideology and Literature. Proceedings of a Conference at the University of Haifa, 3-7 May 2009. Leiden: Brill. Pp. 268–290. Spalinger, A. J., 1976: “Psammetichos, king of Egypt: I”. JARCE 13,133–147. — 1977: “Egypt and Babylonia: A Survey (ca� 620-500 BC)”� SAK 5, 221–244� — 1978a: “Psammetichos, king of Egypt: II”. JARCE 15, 49–57� — 1978b: “The Date of the Death of Gyges and Its Historical Implications”. JAOS 98, 400–409� — 1979: “The Civil War Between Amasis and Apries and the Babylonian Attack Against Egypt”. In W. F. Reineke (ed.): First International Congress of Egyptology, Cairo, October 2–10, 1976. Acts. Berlin: de Gruyter. Pp. 593–604. Stern, E�, 2001: Archaeology of the Land of the Bible. II. The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods (732–332 B.C.E.). New York: Yale University Press. Strauss Clay, J., 1986: “Archilochus and Gyges: An Interpretation of Fr. 23 West”. QUCC 24/3, 7–17. Şahin, M.C., 1987: “Zwei Inschriften aus dem Südwestlichen Kleinasien”. EA 10, 1–2. Tandy, D., 2004: “Trade and Commerce in Archilochos, Sappho, and Alkaios”. In Commerce and Monetary Systems in the Ancient World: Means of Transmission and Cultural Interaction Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Symposium of the Assyrian and Babylonian Intellectual Heritage Project. Held in Innsbruck, Austria, October 3rd-8th, 2002� Melammu Symposia 5 = Oriens et Occidens 6. Stuttgart: Steiner. Pp. 183–194. Thomas, R., 1992: Literacy and Orality in Ancient Greece. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Treu, M., 1966: “Neues über Sappho und Alkaios (P. Ox. 2506)”. QUCC 2, 9–36. Tuell, S�, 2009: Ezekiel. Peabody: Hendriksson. Tuplin, C., 2013: “Berrossos and Greek Historiography”. In J. Haubold et al. (eds�): The World of Berossos. Proceedings of the 4th International Colloquium on the The Ancient Near East between Classical and Ancient Oriental Traditions, Hatfield College, Durham 7th-9th July 2010� Classica et Orientalia 5. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Pp. 177–198 Unger, E., 1926: “Nebukadnezar II. und sein Sandabakku (Oberkommissar) in Tyrus”� ZAW 44, 314–317� Vanderhooft, D.S., 1999: The Neo-Babylonian Empire and Babylon in the Latter Prophets� Harvard Semitic Museum Monographs 59� Atlanta: Scholars Press. — 2003: “Babylonian Strategies of Imperial Control in the West: Royal Practice and Rhetoric”. In O. Lipschits / J. Blenkinsopp (eds.): Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Pp. 235–262 Vittmann, G. 1998: Der demotische Papyrus Rylands 9. Ägypten und Altes Testament 38� Wiesbaden: Harrasowitz� Waerzeggers, C., 2006: “The Carians of Borsippa”. Iraq 68, 1–22. Waldbaum, J.C., 2002: “Seventh century B.C. Greek pottery from Ashkelon, Israel: an entrepot in the Southern Levant”. In M. Faudot et al. (eds.): Pont-Euxin et Commerce: La Genèse de la ‘Route de la Soie,’ Actes die IXe Symposium de Vani (Colchide)–1999. ISTA 853. Besançon: Presses Universitaires Franc-Comtoises. Pp. 57–75. — 2011: “Greek Pottery”. In L. E. Stager et al. (eds.): Ashkelon 3: The Seventh Century B.C. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Pp. 127–338. Watts, J. W., 1992: “Text and Redaction in Jeremiah’s Oracles against the Nations”� Catholic Biblical Quarterly 54, 432–447� Weidner, E., 1939: “Jojachin, König von Juda, in babylonischen Keilschrifttexten”. In Mélanges syriens offerts à monsieur René Dussaud : secrétaire perpétuel de l’Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres, vol. II. Paris: P. Geuthner. Pp. 923–935. West, M� L�, 1997: The East Face of Helicon. West Asiatic Elements in Greek Poetry� Oxford: Oxford University Press. — 2014: “Nine Poems of Sappho”. ZPE 191, 1–12. Wilkinson, C� L�, 2013: The Lyric of Ibycus: Introduction, Text and Commentary� Berlin: de Gruyter� Wiseman, D� J�, 1956: “Chronicles of Chaldean Kings (626-556 B�C�) in the British Museum”� London: The Trustees of the British Museum� Wiseman, D �J�, 1985: Nebuchadnezzar and Babylon, The Schweich Lectures of the British Academy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Woolley, C� L�, 1921: Carchemish II. The Town Defenses� London: British Museum�

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Zawadzki, S., 2003: “Nebuchadnezzar and Tyre in the Light of New Texts from the Ebabbar Archives in Sippar”. Eretz-Israel Archeological, Historical and Geographical Studies 27, Hayim and Miriam Tadmor Volume, 276*–281*. — 2015: “The Chronology of Tyrian History in the Neo-Babylonian Period”. AoF 42, 276–287� Zuckerman, A� / Ben-Shlomo, D�, 2011: “Mortaria as a Foreign Element in the Material Culture of the Southern Levant during the 8th–7th centuries BCE”� PEQ 143, 87–105�

List of abbreviations Ancient authors The abbreviations of ancient authors are those used in OCD4� Corpora, translations and editions ABC ANET

ARAB

Campbell

CIS I Fotheringham

Gentili / Prato Godley

Hamilton / Falconer Jones

Grayson, A�K� (ed�), 1975: Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles. Locust Valley, New York: J.J. Augustin. Pritchard, J. (ed.), 1969: Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament, 3rd ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Luckenbill, D� D� (ed�), 1926–1927: Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylonia. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Greek Lyric, Volume I: Sappho and Alcaeus, trans� D� A� Campbell� Loeb Classical Library 142� Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 1982. Corpus Inscriptionum Semiticarum, Pars prima. Paris: Reipublicae. 1881–1962. Fotheringham, J� K� (ed�), 1923: Eusebii Pamphili Chronici canones Latine vertit, adauxit, ad sua tempora produxit S. Eusebius Hieronymus� London: Milford� Gentili, B. / Prato, C. (eds.), 1979: Poetae Elegiaci. Testimonia et Fragmenta. Pars prior� Leipzig: Teubner� Herodotus� trans� A� D� Godley� Loeb Classical Library 117/120. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 1920-1925� Geography of Strabo, trans� H�C� Hamilton / W� Falconer� London: H�G� Bohn� 1854–1857� The Geography of Strabo, 8 vols�, trans� H�L� Jones� Loeb Classical Library� Cambridge / London: Harvard University Press / William Heinemann. 1913–1927.

370

KAH I Karst

Lobel / Page MC ML

Norman

Page Voigt West

Liviu Mihail Iancu

Messerschmidt, L� (ed�), 1911: Keilschrifttexte aus Assur historischen Inhalts, vol. I. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Karst, J� (ed�), 1911: Eusebius Werke 5: Die Chronik aus dem Armenischen übersetzt mit textkritischem Kommentar� GCS 20� Leipzig: Hinrichs� Lobel, E. / Page, D. (eds.), 1955: Poetarum Lesbiorum Fragmenta, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Glassner, J�J� (ed), 2004: Mesopotamian Chronicles� Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature� Meiggs, R. / Lewis, D. (eds.), 1988: A Selection of Greek Historical Inscriptions to the End of the Fifth Century, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Libanius, Selected Orations, Volume I. Julianic Orations, trans� A�F� Norman� Loeb Classical Library 451. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 1969. Page, D. L. (ed.), 1967: Poetae Melici Graeci, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Voigt, E.-M. (ed.), 1971: Sappho et Alcaeus� Amsterdam: Polak & van Gennep. West, M� L� (ed�), 1989: Iambi et elegi Graeci ante Alexandrum cantati. 1: Archilochus. Hipponax. Theognidea, rev. ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Journals AoF AION

AJA AJPh BA BASOR ClAnt CQ EA EgArch EQ

Altorientalische Forschungen Annali dell’Istituto Universitario Orientale di Napoli, Dipartimento di Studi del mondo classico e del Mediterraneo antico American Journal of Archaeology American Journal of Philology Biblical Archaeologist The Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Classical Antiquity The Classical Quarterly Epigraphica Anatolica Egyptian Archaeology, The Bulletin of the Egypt Exploration Society The Evangelical Quarterly

The Great Conflict over the Levant (612–562 BC) and its consequences for the Greeks

GM GRBS Hermathena Hermes Histos IEJ Iraq JAEI JAOS JARCE JBL JDAI JEA JEGH JHS JNES JSSEA KASKAL Klio MDAIK Mnemosyne OrAnt Orientalia n�s� PEQ Philologus QUCC RA RAAO RecTrav

371

Göttinger Miszellen - Beiträge zur ägyptologischen Diskussion Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Studies Hermathena - A Trinity College Dublin Review Hermes : Zeitschrift für klassische Philologie Histos: The Electronic Journal of Ancient Historiography Israel Exploration Journal Iraq Journal of Ancient Egyptian Interactions Journal of the American Oriental Society Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt Journal of Biblical Literature Jahrbuch des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts. Berlin, de Gruyter The Journal of Egyptian Archaeology The Journal of Egyptian History The Journal of Hellenic Studies Journal of Near Eastern Studies Journal of the Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities KASKAL. Rivista di storia, ambienti e culture del Vicino Oriente Antico Klio: Beiträge zur Alten Geschichte Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Abteilung Kairo Mnemosyne� A Journal of Classical Studies Oriens Antiquus Orientalia (Nova Series) Palestine Exploration Quarterly Philologus. Zeitschrift für antike Literatur und ihre Rezeption Quaderni Urbinati di Cultura Classica Revue archéologique Revue d‘assyriologie et d‘archéologie orientale Recueil de travaux relatifs à la philologie et à lʼarchéologie égyptiennes et assyriennes: pour servir de bullletin à la Mission Française du Caire

372

REG SAK Semitica Syria UF VT WS ZA ZÄS ZAW ZPE

Liviu Mihail Iancu

Revue des études grecques Studien zur Altägyptischen Kultur Semitica: cahiers publiés par l’Institut d’études sémitiques du Collège de France Syria: revue d’art oriental et d’archéologie Ugarit-Forschungen. Internationales Jahrbuch für die Altertumskunde Syrien-Palästinas. Vetus Testamentum: a quarterly published by the International Organization for the Study of the Old Testament� Wiener Studien: Zeitschrift für Klassische Philologie, Patristik und lateinische Tradition Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik

Between wealth and politics Arsames, the prince, satrap and estate-holder Hilmar Klinkott Matthew Stolper explained in his important book about the Murašû archive (Entrepreneurs and empire, Istanbul 1985) that Arsames, respectively Aršāma as he is named in the Neo-Babylonian texts, is entitled as mār bīti – as “prince”�1 It seems to be clear that this Aršāma is the same noble Persian who ruled at the same time, at the end of the fifth century BC Egypt as satrap�2 A collection of Aramaic leather rolls from Egypt, now mainly in the Bodleian Library in Oxford, calls him in the same way “prince” (br bytʼ)�3 His title “son of the house”, the equivalent for prince, makes clear that Arsames/ Aršāma has been a member of the Achaemenid family�4 Indeed, he was the eldest cousin of Darius II.5 Because of his status, he was part of the royal court in the reign of Artaxerxes I. One of the famous so-called Murašû tablets mentions him in a contract of the fortieth year of this king�6 His social rank and titular status are particularly noteworthy because Arsames possessed huge real

1

2 3

4 5 6

Stolper, 1985: 64 with the quotation of the relevant sources in n� 63� For this title see also the Aramaic inscription on the seal of Aršāma from Persepolis: Garrison / Henkelman, 2020: 63–74� See Tuplin, 2020: 31–45; Klinkott, 2005: 503� Driver, 1957: 22: I 1* (TAD A6.5 l. 4; = Taylor, 2020: 26f.; Taylor, 2013: 7f.), 23: II 1* (TAD A6.4 l. 5; = Taylor, 2020: 24f.; Taylor, 2013: 5f.), 24: III 1* (TAD A6.3 l.9; = Taylor, 2020: 22f.; Taylor, 2013: 3f.), 26: V 1*(TAD A6.7 l. 10; = Taylor, 2020: 30f.; Taylor, 2013: 11f�); see now the new edition and translation by D� Taylor in the Arshama Project: Taylor, 2020: 21–49; http://blogs.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/wp-content/uploads/ sites/116/2013/10/Volume-2-text-and-translation-interleaved-20.1.14.pdf; Stolper, 1985: 64 with n� 65� See Driver, 1957: 12f� For the discussion compare also Tuplin, 2020: 35, 47f� Stolper, 1985: 156� CBS 5205; Stolper, 1985: 65, 235, Nr. 11; see also in detail Pirngruber, 2020: 300–339.

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estates in Babylonia and ruled as satrap in Egypt�7 So, to say in general, he had great economic influence in two of the wealthiest countries of the Achaemenid empire� At least by the position of satrap, this economic potential is also closely connected with political impact which could reach the inner circle of the royal court� Arsames gained his notable position certainly not by accident, but because he also possessed extensive private estates in Egypt on approval by the king� His domains were located all over the country, in Upper and Lower Egypt.8 Stolper pointed out:9 “Aršam’s Egyptian bailiffs held property within the (= his) estate, once termed a “grant” (dšn), conferred by Aršam and the king�” Arsames’ possessions in Babylonia rank at the same level as the crown prince’s estate (the bīt Umasupitrû), the Queen’s estate or the estate of queen Parysatis also named in the same Murašû archive.10 For a long time he held commercial connections to this Murašû firm, for example by leasing parts of his real estate to it. These relations focused on a certain Enlil-šum-iddin, who is called “servant” of Aršāma in the Bablonian tablets11 and who may correspond to Neḥtiḥūr, his officer and comptroller managing the Egyptian estates�12 According to them, Stolper stated:13 “If the Aršāma of these texts is the same man named in the nine later documents, it is now clear that his connections with the Murašû firm spanned at least twenty-one years: from 425 B�C� or earlier, through 404 B.C.—approximately the same interval during which he held office as governor of Egypt.” Indeed, one Murašû text (Ni 523) names Aršāma for the 35. year of Artaxerxes I (430/29 B.C.),14 the demotic P. Mainz 17 from

7 8

9 10

11 12

13

14

See in detail Tuplin, 2013: 30–38; Tuplin, 2020: 46–52� Driver, 1957: 23: II 2f. (TAD A6.4 l. 2; = Taylor, 2013: 5f.); 27: V 5f. (TAD A6.7 l. 5f.; = Taylor, 2013: 11f.), both for Upper and Lower Egypt, more general see ibd. 29: VII 2f.; 30: VII 5f. (TAD A6.10 l. 2f., 5f.; = Taylor, 2013: 17f.); 31: VIII 2.4.7 (TAD A6.11 l�2�4�7; = Taylor,, 2013: 19f�); Tuplin, 2020: 52–61� Stolper, 1985: 65� To the crown prince`s estate: Stolper, 1985: 59–62; to the queen’s estate: Stolper, 1985: 62f., to the estate of the Parysatis: Stolper, 1985: 63f. Stolper, 1985: 65, 279 (CBS 12957)� See for example Driver, 1957: 32: IX 1* (TAD A6.12 l. 1.4; = Taylor, 2013: 21f.), 33: X 1* (TAD A6.13 l. 1.6; = Taylor, 2013: 23f.), 34: XI 1* (TAD A6.14 l. 1.6; = Taylor, 2013: 25f.), 36: XII 1* (TAD A6.15 l. 1.13; = Taylor, 2013: 27–29). Citation: Stolper, 1985: 65� To Aršam’s correspondence in the Murašû archive from Nippur in October 424 B�C� see Donbaz / Stolper, 1997: 235 Nr� 77; 136 Nr� 78� See Stolper, 1985: 65 n. 66. Publication: Donbaz / Stolper, 1997: 85 N. 9, 4.

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Saqqara for the 36., and an Aramaic papyrus from Elephantine (AP 26) names him for the king’s 37� year (428 BC) in Egypt�15 In other words, Arsames partly managed the administration and organization of his private estates in Babylonia by means of the Murašû firm, while acting as satrap in Egypt, acquiring there his new estates and organizing their management and cultivation� This connection of private property and commercial interrelations between Babylonia and Egypt is finally intensified by the political relationship to the king. The correlation of the Aramaic leather texts from Egypt and the Neo-Babylonian tablets makes clear that Arsames’ estates in both countries were principally organized and managed in the same way�16 Previously the Egyptian texts had been dated to between 410 and 407 BC, mainly because of mention of a revolt which had been identified with the destruction of the Jahû temple at Elephantine,17 proved by the Aramaic Elephantine papyri or with the revolt of Amyrtaeus II in 404 BC. However, there is no clear evidence that the leather documents and the papyri belong to the same time and the same political situation, the eve of Amtyrtaeus’ revolt. Even G.R. Driver pointed out:18 “The exact sequence of the letters cannot be ascertained in consequence of the paucity and obscurity of any allusions to fix it; only a relative order of one or two small groups within the whole collection can be approximately worked out from vague hints scattered amongst them�” Some fellows just questioned this chronological and content assignment, supposing that the leather texts belong to an earlier time and context.19

15

16 17

18 19

P. Mainz 17 starts: “in year 36, when Arsames, who is in Egypt as (?!) […]“. Translation of Vittmann, 2009: 103; Schmitt / Vittmann, 2013: 40; Grelot, 1972: 281f. Nr. 60. Another demotic papyrus from Saqqara names Arsames in Egypt for the 30� regnal year of Artaxerxes I: see H. S. Smith / C. J. Martin, 2009: 31–39 No. 4; Vittmann, 2009: 103. See Stolper, 1985: 65� Therefore, see Briant, 1996a: 115-135; Granerød, 2020: 329-343; Tuplin, 2020a; 344– 372� Driver, 1957: 6� See Lewis, 1958: 393–395; according to ibd�, 395 Kraeling, 1953: 103 suggested “the accession of Darius II as a suitable time for this revolt”. The statement of Bresciani, 1986: 546 that Arsames stayed at Susa from 411–408 BC is not proved by any evidence. The leather texts only show that Arsames had possessions at Susa without any indication when he personally resided there� Bresciani’s date seems to be derived from the fact that the undated diphterai were supposed to belong to the Elephantine affair� Nevertheless, she stated previously that “these documents are dated between 428 (the

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Because of the lack of evidence, I will recommend removing these texts from the specific assignment of 411/407 BC and contextualizing them with the stylistically relative Babylonian texts of the Murašû archive.20 By means of the Murašû archive Stolper demonstrated the close interrelations of private property in those wealthy satrapies with royal policy� He emphasizes:21 “Furthermore, since real property, revenues, and services were a large part of the aristocracy’s wealth, they were also determinants of its political behaviour� Estates of the Empire’s most powerful figures contributed both to the existence and to the playing out of struggles between the Great King and his rivals�” This group of potential rivals to the ruling king is represented in the Murašû archive by the (unnamed) holder of a crown prince’s estate, by the unnamed female holder of a Queen’s estate, by the estate of the queen Parysatis, and finally by the estates of Aršāma and eleven other men entitled “prince”.22 Inside this group the struggle for the throne after the death of Artaxerxes I took place, supporting Darius Ochos (II) on his rise to power. Ctesias is the main source reporting the details of the revolt: When Artaxerxes I died in December 424 BC23 his son by queen Damaspia, Xerxes II, succeeded to the throne� Shortly afterwards he is assassinated by one of his seventeen halfbrothers Sogdianus/Sekyndianos� His revolt was supported by the eunuch Pharnakyas, Bagorazos, the commander of the guard, and Menostanes, the son of the Babylonian satrap Artarius�24 After the successful revolt Sogdianus killed Bagorazos and made Menostanes the new commander of the guard, entitled by Ctesias § 40 with the Iranian title ἀζαραβαίτης/ old-Persian: hazarāpatiš.25 In the meantime another half-brother Darius Ochos, married to his half-sister the later queen Parysatis, prepared an

20

21 22

23 24 25

37th year of Artaxerxes I) and 406 B.C”. For its contemporality and comparability see Jursa, 2020: 110–119; Stolper, 1985: 19, 26� Therefore, see in the same way Stolper, 1985: 116–120� Concerning the political context see very detailed Tuplin, 2013: 38–44. He emphasizes a careful interpretation of the revolts/unrest, described in the Arsames correspondence, not necessarily connected with the rebellion of 411/407 B�C�, but even considers a connection with the takeover of Darius II: Tuplin, 2013: 42 (see below). Stolper 1985, 52� See in detail Stolper, 1985: 54–69. To the unclear, but high- ranking position of Uštapānu see Donbaz / Stolper, 1997: 121; Uštānaʼ as prince: ibid.; PBS 2/1 105:3. To the chronology see in detail Stolper, 1985: 116–120; see also Briant, 1996: 605� To the genealogy of Menostanes see Ctes� § 41 (Stronk 343); Tuplin, 2020: 35� Ctes. § 40 (Stronk 343); Gignoux, 2011: 423f.; Briant, 1996: 605.

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army with the aid of Arbarios, Sogdianus’ former chief of horses, Arsames, the Achaemenid prince and satrap of Egypt, and a certain Artoxares, an influential nobleman at Artaxerxes’ court, now exiled to Armenia. When Sogdianus called Darius to come to his court he assassinated the former and thereupon fought Menostanes, the half-brother Arsites and Artyphius, son of Megabyzus, in a successful campaign�26 In February 423 BC Ochos is already attested as Darius II in the Babylonian tablets of the Murašû archive�27 The Babylonian texts, however, do not know either Xerxes II or Sekyndianos�28 Instead of, some documents register for February 423 B.C. the 41. regnal year of Artaxerxes I as identical with the accession year of Darius�29 That is the reason why André Heller assumed Darius claimed the throne directly after Artaxerxes’ death,30 maybe at the same time as Sekyndianos�31 Stolper expanded that the major actors of the succession struggle are all named in the Murašû texts and “that the resources at their disposal included the taxes as well as the personal and military services of Babylonian petty feudatories”�32 Stolper demonstrates in this fundamental study on the Murašû texts that “in fact, the mortgages from the fortyfirst year of Artaxerxes I and the accession period of Darius II are closely concentrated within the year”�33 Last but not least, the text UM 3 from “the

26 27 28 29

30

31 32 33

See Ctes� 46–50 (Stronk 345–351); Stolper, 1985: 115� See Stolper, 1985: 118� Heller, 2010: 307� BE X, 4; BE VIII/1, 127. See also BE IX, 100 and BE X, 22, published in Cardascia, 1951: 46f. The equation is very clear in UM 3, l. 2f. and 13 (Cardascia, 1951: 112f.), although the document is dated on the 1. year of Darius II. Heller, 2010: 307. In this time of unclear succession to the throne, he dates a contract concerning the rent of house “until the departure of the king” from February 423 B�C� (BE X no� 1) which was uncertain to identify the actual king by name: Heller, 2010: 307. Compare in this context Polyain. VII 17 who reports that Darius kept secret the death of Artaxerxes for ten months. Very interesting seems to be BE X, 6, which defines the time political change between the month Nisan of Artaxerxes’ 41. year and the month Adar, just in the accession year of Darius. The text reports in the translation of Cardascia 1951, 109: BE X, 6, l� 2–4: “(…) depuis le mois de Nisan de l’an 41 jusqu’à la fin du mois Adar de l’année de l’avènement de Darius, (…)”. So Briant, 1996: 605� Stolper, 1985: 120� Quotation: Donbaz / Stolper, 1997: 9f. See also for example Cardascia, 1951: 109: BE X, 6 and 113: UM 3 with money and food supply of military fief holders for royal soldiers�

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year 41, which is the accession year of Darius” illustrates in particular the supply of the royal soldiers with food and money�34 G� van Driel characterizes therefore the role of the Murašû firm as in instrument for the Persian nobles to require rents, services and income from their estates and to transfer it into silver payments�35 In addition, the firm was a creditor for small tenants to accommodate the special burden�36 Furthermore, the land or fief for military services as the bīt narkabti—“the land for service with the chariot”—the bīt sisê—“the land for service with horse”—or the bīt qašti—the “bow land”37—was also located in the private estates of members of the royal family. In other words, these Persian nobles had by their domains the monetary potential as well as the military man power and the necessary places to recruit an army for Darius� Obviously, Arsames had been part of such an aristocratic network in Babylonia which supported Darius financially and militarily by burdening their own private estates. It is remarkable that the same Arsames is the central figure of a similar aristocratic network in Egypt. With the help of his official Neḥtiḥūr, he took care of the affairs of a certain Warōhī (Varuvahya), also entitled “son of the house” respectively “prince” and holder of large domains in Egypt�38 Furthermore, Aršāma’s title “prince” is only used in the prescript of letters to a Persian noble called Artawont/ Artavanta and/or Artahont�39 In the letter itself Aršāma and Artavanta/ Artahont address each other in a very similar style and so seem to be

34 35

36 37

38

39

Cardascia, 1951: 112f� Van Driel, 2002: 272: “They received receipts in silver for payment of feudal duties from the holder of fiefs and their superiors to whom they advanced the silver. For this they were paid by the same fief holders in products, which they also obtained through other channels, such as rents� These products were delivered to the government and used for public works, for which the Murašûs received credit in silver on a government account�” Heller, 2010: 308� See in detail: Van Driel, 2002; 232–245 with bīt azanni—“quiever fief” as part of the bīt qašti� See Driver, 1957: 14� To the title: Driver, 1957: 33: X 1 (TAD A6�13 l� 1, = Taylor, 2013: 23f�); to the domains in Egypt: Driver, 1957: 33: X 1, 4 (TAD A6�13 l�4; = Taylor, 2013: 23f.); 34: XI 3 (TAD A6.14 l. 3, = Taylor, 2013: 25f.). The explanation of the name is still unclear, unfortunately lacking in Schmitt / Vittmann, 2013. It is not clear if Artawont/Artavant and Artahont refer to two different persons or one and the same: See Driver, 1957: 15. Unfortunately also lacking in Schmitt / Vittman, 2013; Vittmann, 2020: 264–266.

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approximately equal in rank.40 So G.R. Driver realized:41 “Thus ʼArtawont and ʼArtahont appear in the same position vis-à-vis ʼAršāma, (…)”. Although no administrative or courtly title is mentioned Artavanta/ Artahont seemed to be part of the high-ranked Persian aristocracy “who is in Egypt” as the papyri emphasized�42 The same leather rolls tell a story which is of particular relevance in conjunction with the Murašu texts and Darius’ claim to power. The unfortunately undated document TADAE A6�13 informs in the prescript:43 “From ʼAršāma to Neḥtiḥūr the officer, the comptroller (?) and his colleagues the accountants, who are in Egypt. --- Concerning my notification to Ḫatu-bâstī that he come [to me] at Babylon”. The letter refers:44 “From Aršama to Nakhtḥor, Kentasirma, and his colleagues. And now: Vāravahyā the prince says to me thus in the (place), saying: ‘The domain which was given to me by my lord in Egypt, that one, they do not bring me anything from there. If it (seems) like a good thing to my lord, let a letter be sent my lord to Nakhtḥor the official and the accountants, in order that they might make an order to (him) whose name is Aḥatubaste, my official, to the effect that the revenue of those domains he should disburse, and should bring (it) to me with the revenue which Nakhtḥor is bringing’. Now, Aršāma sys thus: ‘(As for) you, make an order to Aḥatubaste the official of Vāravahyā, to the effect that the revenue of the domains of Vāravahyā in full, and the (accrued) interest, he should disburse and bring, and he should come with the treasure (concerning) which (an order) was issued

40

41 42

See Driver, 1957: 15; Jursa, 2020: 117; Hilder, 2020: 99–107, esp� 99; Tuplin, 2020: 31f�, 45� See Driver, 1957: 15� To Artavanta/Artavant “who is in Egypt” see Driver 157, 22: I 1* (compare TAD A6.5 l. 4, missing the addition; = Taylor, 2013: 7f., who reads less than Driver); 23: II 1* (TAD A6.4 l. 5; = Taylor 2013, 5f.); 24: III 1* (TAD A6.3 l. 9; = Taylor, 2013: 3f.). Compare also Tuplin, 2020: 31f�, 44f�

43

Translation Taylor, 2020: 43 (= Driver, 1957: 33f�) Compare with helpful information, but obviously with a more fragmentary text Taylor, 2013: 23f. (TAD A6.13) “(6.) From Aršama to Nakhtḥor the official, Kenzasirma and his colleagues the accountants, who are in Egypt, (7�) concerning the order (8�) which [....] (9.) [.....] (10.) [.....] (11.) (DEMOTIC) Ḥotepḥep” (= Taylor, 2020: 43).

44

Translation: Taylor, 2020: 43�

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by me to bring (it) to Babylon’. Artāvahyā knows thi[s o]rder. Rāšta is the scribe.” It is quite clear. The two princes Aršāma and Vāravahyā stayed at the same time in the royal residence of Babylon�45 They both had ordered their officials and treasurers (old-Persian: ganza-bara46), Neḥtiḥūr/Nakhtḥor and Ḫatu-bâstī/Aḥatubaste, to bring the incomes of their Egyptian domains to Babylon. Both officials had to travel with the treasures to the residence. This is clearly expressed in Aršāma’s order to Neḥtiḥūr that he has to instruct Ḫatu-bâstī “(…) and he should come with the treasure (concerning) which (an order) was issued by me to bring (it) to Babylon�”47 Remarkably, it is not only a part of the money which has to be transferred to Babylon, but the whole income. ʼAršāma particularly stressed “that the revenue of the domains of Vāravahyā in full, (…), he should disburse”, which has to be gathered with “the (accrued) interest” meaning strictly�48 Obviously, the money is needed very urgently. In another letter Vāravahyā writes directly to Aršāma’s official Neḥtiḥūr because his own comptroller “is not bringing me any re[ven]u[e]” as he says�49 In this letter Vāravahyā admonishes Neḥtiḥūr:50 “N[o]w, (as for) you, be diligen[t] and make an order to [m]y official so that the revenue of [those domains he should br] ing to me to Babylon. (…) Also, Aḥatubaste my official, or his brother or his son, let him come to me to Babylon with the revenue.” But what did the two princes need this amount of money for in Babylon? One could presume to connect it with Darius’ rise to the throne� Interestingly, Stolper demonstrates that the financial stress on the private estates in Babylonia and the mortgages which feudatories contracted with the Murašûs correlate with Darius’ takeover�51 This means that the

45 46

47 48 49 50

51

Driver, 1957: 10� To the term in the Aramaic letter see Driver, 1957: 67 concerning the title in ibd�, 31: VIII 1; compare therefore TAD A6.11 l. 1, where Taylor, 2013: 19f. reads “plenipotentiary” for the reconstructed old-Persian title *xvaršbara� Driver 1957, 34: X 5 (TAD A6�13 l� 5; = Taylor, 2013: 23f�)� Taylor, 2020: l� 4f� (TAD A6�13 l� 4f�; = Taylor, 2013: 23f�; Driver, 1957: 34: X 4)� Taylor, 2020: 45, l. 2 (TADAE A6.14 l 2; = Taylor, 2013: 25f.; Driver, 1957: 34: XI 2). Quotation: Taylor, 2020: 45 (TADAE A6�14 l� 2-5; = Taylor, 2013: 25f�; Driver, 1957: 35: XI 2-5), in some details more fragmentary). Obviously Warōhī/Varuvahya ordered to deliver more than only the rents. A fragmentary sentence in this text says: “Also, … of that domain belonging to me …”� Stolper, 1985: 108–113, 120�

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Murašû texts also prove a financial accumulation from the private estates in Babylon, in which Aršāma played an important role. It is a hypothesis to see the transactions from Egypt in the same context. However, the letter from Babylon TADAE A6� 13 is signed at the end by two officers: “Artāvahyā knows thi[s o]rder. Rāšta is the scribe”as well as the letter TADAE A6� 11�52 Obviously, they are parts of a common correspondence to which another letter may be assigned, also from Aršāma to Neḥtiḥūr in Egypt and also with the final signature of Artāvahyā and Rāšta.53 For this reason, it can be supposed that ʼAršāma was still in Babylon�54 In this letter Aršāma sent a sculptor from Susa to Egypt and ordered sculptures of a horseman from him. With unexplained urgency he stresses:55 “… and let him make a statue of a horse with its rider, just as previously he made before me at once, with haste and h[ast]e!” Robert Rollinger recently worked out the importance of horses in their mantic function and royal rider’s statues, in particular in the context of a political takeover—especially for the takeover of Darius I.56 It has to be a presumption to also understand Aršāma’s order in the context of the takeover of Darius II. Nevertheless, this could explain the curious urgency and obscurity in the formulation; the sculptures are not personalized by name, the place of delivery is unspoken, and the time and place of the letter’s composition are missing� Certainly, it becomes clear from the way Aršāma also stayed for some time at Susa, another residence of the Great King, and obviously in the environment of the royal court� However, in the case of the rider’s sculpture, political brisance arises only in the context of Darius’ takeover, but the evidence is still missing. What is more, this example underlines the specific character of all these

52 53 54

55

56

See Taylor, 2020: 39 (TADAE A6� 11, l� 6), 43 (TADAE A6� 13, l� 5)� Taylor, 2020: 41 (TADAE A6.12; = Taylor, 2013: 21f., Driver, 1957: 32: IX). For the discussion from which place Arsames wrote this letter see Driver, 1957: 11� He prefers that Arsames stayed at Susa, without excluding the possibility that Arsames was at Babylon�

Translation Driver, 1957: 32: IX 3; compare the translation of Taylor, 2013: 21f� (TAD A6�12 l� 3): “And let him make statues [on] which there shall be horsemen (?), and let him make a statue of a horse with its rider, just as previously he made before me, and other statues. And send (them), and let them bring (them) to me at once, with haste and h[ast]e!”�

Rollinger, 2017: 13–42. Compare also the horses on the seal of Aršāma and its iconographic context: Garrison / Henkelman, 2020: 49 (fig. 2.1), 84–87, 98, esp. 114–118 on the royal context (for this aspect see also ibd., 139–137).

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Aršāma texts, Egyptians as well as Babylonians: they are all dealing with the affairs of Aršāma’s estates and domains. So to say, they document a correspondence concerning private affairs� Therefore, it is of no wonder that official topics and administrative duties of the satrap are missing.57 This authoritative sphere is documented by other groups of sources, either the Aramaic papyri from Elephantine or the Greek historiography� The first one belongs in general to a later time, 410–408 BC, dealing with the destruction and rebuilding of the Judah temple on that island�58 In this context we learn that in 410 BC, when the trouble arose, Arsames had left Egypt and “gone to the king”, as the Elephantine papyri explain.59 Nevertheless, the affairs in the remaining part of his satrapy seem to be stable� But there is a short note from Diodorus (8, 46, 6) which gives reference to previous revolts in Egypt: “While at the same time (that is 412 BC), with respect to his sending (back) three hundred triremes to Phoenicia, he (= Pharnabazus) explained to them (= the Athenians) that he had done so on receiving information that the king of the Arabians and the king of the Egyptians had designs upon Phoenicia.” For the time of 424/423 BC we have no information about satrapal affairs in Egypt beyond the fact that Arsames obviously is holding the position� Maybe he was appointed satrap of Egypt by Megabyzus in 450 BC after the capture of the revolting Inaros.60

57

58

59

60

See in this context Vittmann, 2009: 102–104 who is dealing the demotic papyrus Mainz 17 under the headline “the satrap”. In fact, even the fragmentary text of Mainz 17 unfortunately does not mention any administrative title of Arsames, who is only characterized as “who is in Egypt” (Vittmann, 2009: 103). In other words, that the Arsames of Mainz 17 seems to be the same as the famous satrap Arsames is quite obvious� But there is no proof that this specific mention refers on a satrapal background or scope. Looking at the ‘private’ correspondence of Arsames concerning his estates in Egypt, a specific satrapal context of this fragment still remains a speculation of G. Vittmann. See also the Demotic papyri from Saqqara which seem to mention Arsames in official function, but without any clear definition of his administrative position: Smith / Martin, 2009: 31–39: no 4� See Porten, 1996: p. 135: B 17 re, col. 1, l. 2f., p. 140: B 19, re, l. 4f., p. 146: B 20 re, l. 4; Cowley, 1923: 100, no� 27: l� 2f�; Lewis, 1958: 396� Nevertheless, the determination is problematic because Ctes� 38 (= Stronk, 2010: 341) is speaking of a certain Sarsamas or Sartamas who couldn’t clearly be identified as the later Arsames� See also Tuplin, 2013: 8–10; Klinkott, 2005: 503�

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Irrespective of this detail, the letters from Babylon (and Susa) to Egypt illustrate that Arsames preferred to stay outside his satrapy even when trouble arose� Four letters inform us about this fact, written from Babylon to Egypt: TADAE A6�8:61 Inside “(1.) From Aršāmaa to Armapiya. And now: Psamšek my official has sent (word) to me. He says thus: ‘Armapiya with the (armed) force which is at his control (‘to his hand’) do not obey me (2.) in the affair of my lord which I am telling them.’ Now, Aršāma says thus: ‘The affair of my estate which Psamšek shall tell to you and to the force which is at your control, (in) that (affair) (3.) obey him and act. Thus let it be kn[o]wn to you: If Psamše[k] afterwards should send me a complaint about you, you will be questioned forcefully, and a severe sentence (4.) will be produced for you.’ Bagasravā knows this order. Aḥpepi (or ʾḤWPY) is the scribe.” Outside “(5.) From [A]ršama to Armapiya (6.) Concerning that Psamše[k] (7.) said: ‘They do not ob[ey] (8.) me’.” TADAE A6�7:62 Inside “(1.) From Aršāma to Artavanta (‘Artahanta’). I send yo[u] (wishes for) much peace and strength! And now, (there is) peace in this (place) before me. (2.) May there also be peace there before y[o]u. And now: there are Cili[cian] men, my slaves, in Egypt: (3.) (he) whose name is Pariyama, 1; (he) whose name is Ammuwana, 1; (he) whose name is Saraka, 1; (he) whose [n]ame is TʿNDY, [1;] (he) whose name is [....] MY, 1; (he) whose name is Sadasbinazi (4.) [1;] (he) whose name is I[nda]ma (?), 1; (he) whose name is Sarmanazi, 1; (he) whose name is Kaʾ, 1; (he) whose name is Bagafārnah, 1; (he) whose name is Piyatarunazi, 1; (he) whose name is Asmaraupa, (5.) 1; (he) whose name is Muwasarma, 1. (In) all, 13 men. They were appointed (as) pressers (?) among my domains which are (6.)

61 62

Translation: Taylor, 2020: 33 (= Taylor, 2013: 13f.; compare Driver 15: IV). Translation: Taylor, 2020: 31 (= Taylor, 2013: 11f.; compare Driver 25: IV 1).

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in Upper and Lower (Egypt). After, when Egypt rebelled, and the (armed) force were garrisoned, then (7.) that Pariyama and his companions were not able to enter into the fortress. After, the wicked [I]n[ḥ]arou seized them, (8.) (and) they were with him. Now, if (it seems) like a good thing to you, let an order be issued by you, so that a person should not do anything bad (9.) to that Pariyama and his companions. Let them be released. Let them do my work as previously.” Outside “(10.) From Aršāma the prince to Artavanta (‘Artahanta’) who is in [Egyp]t. (11). Concerning the Cilicians (12). [slaves] of mine (13). [who were not] able (14). [to enter] into Miṣpeh (?)” TADAE A6�10:63 “From ʼAršāma to Neḥtiḥūr the officer who is in Lower Egypt. – Concerning there being (any) loss from my estate which is in Egypt. From ʼAršāma to Neḥtiḥūr: And now: - previously, when the Egyptians revolted64, then Psamšek the former officer took strict care of our domestic staff and property which were in Egypt, so that my estate suffered no sort of loss; from elsewhere too he sought out enough staff of craftsmen of various kinds and other property and appropriated them to my estate; and here now I hear that the officers who are [in] Lower Egypt are showing themselves active in (the circumstances of) the disturbances (?) (and) are taking strict care of their lord’s staff and property and are also seeking out others from elsewhere and adding them to their lord’s estate, while you are not doing so. Now also I have previously sent (word) to you concerning this matter. Do you show yourselves active (and) take such strict care of my domestic staff and property, that my estate may suffer no sort of loss; from elsewhere took seek out enough staff of craftsmen of various kinds and bring them into my court and mark them with my brand and attach them to my estate, just as the former officers used to do.

63

64

Translation: Driver, 1957: 29f: VII; compare also Taylor, 2020: 37, where the outside is a bit more fragmentary� See Taylor, 2013: 17f� with a recent, but quite similar, translation, especially for l� 1: “… when the Egyptians rebelled…”.

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Thus let it be known to thee: if my domestic staff or other property suffer any sort of loss and you do not seek out (others) from elsewhere and appropriate them to my estate, you will be called strictly to account and reprimanded. ʼArtaḥay is cognizant of this order; Rāšt is the clerk.” TADAE A6�11:65 Inside: “(1) From ʼAršāma to Naktḥor, Kenzasirma, and his colleagues. And now: (he) whose name is Peṭosiri the plenipotentiary (*xvaršabara), my servant, has sent (word) to me. He says thus: ‘There is (a man) [whose] name is Pamun, my [fa]ther. When (2) there was unrest (?) in Egypt66 that (man) perished. And his domain, which he whose name is Pamun, my father, was occupying (as heir), a seed place 0f 30 a(rdab), th[at] (domain) was abandoned within (Egypt) since the people of our household all p[erished. It was not given (?)] (3) to me, the domain of Pamun my father. Let there be thought for me. Let them give (it) to me. Let me occupy (it as heir).’ Now, ʼAršā[ma] says thus: ‘If it is thus, in accordance with these words which Peṭosiri has sent [to me, - that] he whose name is [Pamun] (4) his father, that one, when there was unrest (?) in Egypt, perished with the people of [his household, and] his domain, of that Pamun his father, a seed place of 30 a(rdab), that one was abandon[ed, and to my estate] (5) it was not made over, (and) it was not given by me to another servant of mine, - then I give the domain of that Pamun to Peṭosiri. You tell him (that) he shall occupy (it as heir), and the tax, (6) in accordance with (that) which Pamun his father was previously paying, he shall pay to my estate. Artāvahyā knows this order. Rāšta is the scribe. Outside: (7) From ʼAršāma to Naktḥor the official, [Kenza]sirma, and his colleagues [the account]ants, who are in Egypt (8) (Demotic) Concerning the field of Pamun which I have given to Peṭosiri.” Unfortunately, all these texts are not datable; only the final signature of Rāšt(a) in the last two texts could probably indicate any context with Aršāma’s requests for financial transactions. Nevertheless, the group of

65 66

Translation: Taylor, 2020: 39. Compare Driver 30f: VIII. Compare Driver, 1957: 31: “… when the rebellion occurred in Egypt…”�

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the latter four letters concerning the Egyptian revolt illustrate first of all that Aršāma is not in his satrapy. Evidently there were some matters in Babylon or Susa which seemed to have priority for him� Secondly, the rebellion in Egypt, of which Aršāma is clearly informed, was not serious enough to call him back or let him be ordered back by the king� Thirdly, the letters predominantly illustrate ʼAršāma’s personal interest in his private affairs. This comes as no surprise because the character of these texts is rather private. Anyway, Aršāma is highly interested in “[taking] such strict care of my domestic staff and property, that my estate may suffer no sort of loss” (TADAE A6.10, l. 8; Driver, 1957: 30 VII)67. In fact, they made him profit of the revolt when Aršāma writes: “now I hear that the officers who are [in] Lower Egypt are showing themselves active in (the circumstances of) the disturbances (?) (and) are taking strict care of their lord’s staff and property and are also seeking out others from elsewhere and adding them to their lord’s estate” (TADAE A6�10, l� 3-5; Driver, 1957: 29f. VII).68 He clearly orders Neḥtiḥūr: “from elsewhere took seek out enough staff of craftsmen of various kinds and bring them into my court and mark them with my brand and attach them to my estate, just as the former officers used to do!” (TADAE A6�10, l� 6f�; Driver, 1957: 30 VII).69 The case of Peṭôsīrī is proof of these operations (Driver 1959, VIII). The letter briefly spotlights some details of this somehow obscure revolt: “When (2) there was unrest (?) in Egypt that (man) perished. And his domain, which he whose name is Pamun, my father, was occupying (as heir), (…), th[at] (domain) was abandoned within (Egypt) since the people of our household all p[erished.” (TADAE A6�11, l� 2; Taylor, 2020: 39)� Obviously, the rebellion also seriously damaged the Egyptian population� Therefore Arsames states: “that one, when there was unrest (?) in Egypt, perished with the people of [his household, and] his domain, of that Pamun his father, (…), that one was abandon[ed, and to my estate] (5)

67

68

69

Compare Taylor, 2020: 37: “Thus let it be known to you, if from the personnel or from my other goods there should be any loss, …” Taylor, 2020: 37: “And now: it is thus heard by me here, that the officials who are [in Lo]wer (Egypt) are being diligent in the disturbances (?), and are forcefully guarding the personnel and goods of their lords� They are also seeking others from elsewhere, and are add[ing t]o the estate of their lords�” Taylor, 2020: 37: “Also, from elsewhere, personnel of artisans of every kind, seek (in) sufficient (numbers), and bring (them) into my courtyard, and mark (them) with my brand, and make (them) over to my estate, just as the [pre]vious officials ware doing.”

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it was not made over, (and) it was not given by me to another servant of mine, - then I give the domain of that Pamun to Peṭosiri. You tell him (that) he shall occupy (it as heir), and the tax, (6) in accordance with (that) which Pamun his father was previously paying, he shall pay to my estate. (TADAE 6�11, l� 4f�; Taylor, 2020: 39)� Just in this case, the signature of Artāvahyā and Rāšta at the end of the letter seems to indicate that it may be contemporary to the financial transactions of Aršāma and Warōhī/ Varuvahya from Egypt to Babylon. If this is right, we have proof for revolts all over Egypt exactly in this time during Darius’ rise to power.70 This could also explain Aršāma’s behaviour in Egypt—but it is worth expanding it as a hypothesis: In 424/423 B.C. Aršāma’s prior interest is focused on supporting Darius’ rebellion with all his private resources�71 Of course, his official functions were excluded from these processes because as satrap Aršāma was subordinate to the ruling king—in this case Sekyndianos. In this special time of political change the radical requisition of financial resources was much more important than the state of affairs inside a satrapy� During the struggle for royal power in the Achaemenid family in 424 B�C� private requisitions had been the only successful way for supporting Darius. For Menostanes/Manuštānu was—according to Ctesias—a fellow of Sekyndianos, from whom we know that during the reign of Artaxerxes I he had the royal storehouses in Babylonia under his control�72 And in the same way it was essential for Aršāma to stay in Babylon in the direct environment of Darius and not to travel to Egypt for administrative duties� His success shows that he was right. After the takeover of Darius II, Arsames as an important member of the royal family remained alive, even after Darius’ campaign against his rivals, the brother Arsites and the grandnephew Artyphios in his 2� regnal year�73 This cannot be taken for granted because Ctesias gives the impression of a surge of aristocratic revolts which Darius had to overpower�74 Indeed, there are several NeoBabylonian texts which describe that in the 2. regnal year of Darius II

70 71 72 73 74

See Tuplin, 2013: 42� See Donbaz / Stolper, 1997: 85: Nr� 9, 1f; 111: Nr� 40, 5f� Stolper, 1987: 90, 102f�, compare also p� 116� Ctes� § 52 (Stronk 351); Heller, 2010: 308; Briant, 1996: 615f�; Stolper, 1990: 571f� To the revolts of Arsites, Artyphius, Pissuthnes, Artoxares, and Terituchmes: Ctes. § 52–55 (Stronk 351–353)�

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tenants in the Nippur region were required to furnish the ‘king’s soldiers’�75 Especially UC 9/68 illustrates how a certain Gadal-lāma is equipped and sent to Uruk in fulfillment of his military obligation “in connection with the horse-land”, as the text says.76 Furthermore, Arsames stayed in his privileged administrative position of the rich satrapy Egypt and he obviously kept his private properties there. In this context, it is of special interest that Darius II seemed to have personally visited Egypt, perhaps in his 2� regnal year� A recently published demotic papyrus from the necropolis of Saqqara clearly mentions: “… in regnal year 2 (of) Darius Pharaohl.p.h. in […]”�77 Obviously, Darius II has been crowned pharaoh of Egypt as is also demonstrated by his royal Egyptian cartouche in the Hibis temple of El-Kharga. This specific place, the only Egyptian temple of Darius I, the correlation of the cartouche of Darius II to the one of his eponymous predecessor there, as well as the Aramaic versions of the Behistun and parts of the Naqsh-I Rustam inscriptions written on the back of a papyrus dated to Darius II can all be brought together with the production of the horse rider’s statue in Egypt as elements of a royal representation explicitly quoting Darius I and his claim to power�78 The best example of a profitable reward for Darius’ supporters is the Babylonian Belesys/Belšunu known by the so-called Neo-Babylonian Kasr archive�79 Previously district governor of Babylon, he was promoted after Darius’ takeover as governor, so to say: satrap of Ebirnāri. This was quite remarkable because the position was traditionally restricted to noble Persians; on the other hand, Belšunu, head of a firm comparable

75 76

77

78 79

For example UM 193 (Cardascia, 1951: 116f.). See Briant, 2002: 598. Briant, 2002: 598; Kuhrt, 2007: 722–723: Nr� 38; Ebeling, 1952: 203–213� Because of the regularity of this text to others of the same time, Briant, 2002: 598 questions a concrete military context, but assumes a regular annual assembly. Nevertheless, it is highly interesting that these texts seem to concentrate on the 2. regnal year of Darius II, when he prepared the fight against his rivals. However, the text clearly proves the real services of the military fief holders. See with the quoted translation Smith / Martin, 2009: 25: text 2, l. x+7. Another indication may be a seal from Memphis, traditionally the place of the coronation ceremony, with Darius II as hero triumphing over two sphinxes (SD2a): Briant, 2002: 602� See therefore Briant, 2002: 602� See Stolper, 1995: 217–238� To Belšunu as satrap: Stolper, 1987: 389–402� To the Kasr archive: Stolper, 1999: 365–375; Stolper, 1990a: 195–205�

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to Murašû’s,80 also got rid of the politically and economically explosive center of Babylon�81 Maybe Arsames benefited in a similar way from his engagement and the death of his political competitors, as he did in Egypt during the local troubles there, and as Artoxares, the Artaḫšar of the Murašû archive, did, gaining the possessions of Mensotanes/Manuštānu after his suicide�82 Doubtless the prince Arsames as kingmaker would be then a predecessor of the younger Cyrus,83 but without using the combination of his administrative position, privileged royal support and private resources for his own claim to power�

Bibliography: Bresciani, E., 1986: “Aršāma (nr. 2)”. EncIran. II.5: 546. Briant, P., 1996: L’ histoire de l’empire perse. Paris. — 1996a: “Une curieuse affaire à Éléphantine en 410 av. N. è. Widranga, le temple de Yaweh et le sancturaire de Khnum”. In B. Menu (ed.): Égypte pharaonique: pouvoir, société. Paris. Pp. 115–135. — 2002: From Cyrus to Alexander� Winona Lake� Cardascia, G�, 1951: Les archives des Murašû. Une famille d’hommes d’affaires babyloniens à l’époque Perse (455–403 av. J.-C.). Paris. Cowley, A�, 1923: Aramaic Papyri of the Fifth Century B.C.. Oxford. Donbaz, V. / Stolper, M. W., 1997: Istanbul Murašû Texts. Istanbul. Driver, G. R., 1957: Aramaic Documents of the Fifth Century B.C.. Oxford.

80

81

82

83

According to Stolper, 1995: 217–238 the Belšunu firm was mainly focused its commercial operations on the possessions of the king or crown land, while in contrary the Murašû firm focused its business mainly on private possessions of the aristocracy. In Babylonia Belšunu possessed land as “royal gift” (nidintu šarri): Briant, 2002: 602� See TBER, AO 2569, which reports of Belšunu as “governor of Babylon” in the 8. year of Darius II reflecting on affaires of the 2. year of the same king. See Briant, 2002: 601f. How much these firms were personally intermingled even into the military affairs shows the text UC 9/68 from the Murašû archive. See Briant, 2002: 598 with translation. Ctes� § 52 (Stronk 351); Heller, 2010: 309; Stolper, 1985: 91f�; Briant, 1996: 606� According to Ctes. § 54 (Stronk 351f.) Artoxares himself tried to revolt against Darius II, but failed� See for this relation Keaveney, 2020: 136–146�

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Ebeling, E., 1952: „Die Rüstung eines babylonischen Panzerreiters nach einem Vertrag aus der Zeit Darius II.“. Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und vorderasiatische Archäologie N�F� 16, 203–213� Garrison, M. B. / Henkelman, W. F. M., 2020: “The Seal of Prince Aršāma. From Persepolis to Oxford”. In C. J. Tuplin / J. Ma (eds.): Aršāma and his World. The Boldeian Letters in Context II. Oxford. Pp. 46–166. Gignoux, P., 2011: “Chiliarch”. EncIr. V.4, 423–424. Granerød, G., 2020: “The Passover and the Temple of YHW. On the Interaction between the Authorities and the Judean Community at Elephantine as Reflected in the Yedanyah Archive”. In C. J. Tuplin / J. Ma (eds.): Aršāma and his World. The Boldeian Letters in Context III. Oxford. Pp. 329–343. Grelot, P., 1972: Documents Araméens d’ Égypte. Paris. Heller, A�, 2010: Das Babylonien der Spätzeit (7. –4. Jh.) in den klassischen und keilschriftlichen Quellen� Berlin� Hilder, J., 2020: “Masterful Missives. Form and Authority in Aršāma’s Letters”. In C� J� Tuplin / J� Ma (eds�): Aršāma and his World. The Boldeian Letters in Context III. Oxford. Pp. 97–109. Jursa, M., 2020: “The Aršāma Corpus through the Lens of Babylonian Epistolography”. In C. J. Tuplin / J. Ma (eds.): Aršāma and his World. The Boldeian Letters in Context III. Oxford. Pp. 110–119. Keaveney, A., 2020: “Frustrated Frondeurs or Loyal King’s Men?”. In C. J. Tuplin / J� Ma (eds�): Aršāma and his World. The Boldeian Letters in Context III� Oxford. Pp. 136–146. Klinkott, H�, 2005: Der Satrap. Ein achaimenidischer Amtsträger und seine Handlungsspielräume� Frankfurt� Kraeling, E� G�, 1953: The Brooklyn Aramaic Papyri� New Haven� Kuhrt, K�, 2007: The Persian Empire� London� Lewis, D. M., 1958: “The Phoenician Fleet in 411”. Historia 7, 392–397. Pirngruber, R., 2020: “The Akkadian Documents”. In C. J. Tuplin / J. Ma (eds.): Aršāma and his World. The Boldeian Letters in Context I. Oxford. Pp. 300– 339� Porten, B., 1996: The Elephantine Papyri in English. Three Millennia of Cross-Cultural Continuity and Change� Leiden/New York/Köln� Rollinger, R., 2017: ”Altorientalisches bei Herodot: Das wiehernde Pferd des Dareios I”. In H. Klinkott / N. Kramer (eds.): Zwischen Assur und Athen – Altorientalisches in den Historien Herodots. Stuttgart. Pp. 13–42. Schmitt, R. / Vittmann, G., 2013: Iranisches Personennamenbuch VIII: Iranische Namen in Ägyptischer Nebenüberlieferung. Österr. AdW, Iranische Onomastik 13� Wien� Smith, H. S. / Martin, C. J. 2009: “Demotic Papyri from the Sacred Animal Necropolis of North Saqqara: Certainly or Possibly of Achaemenid Date”. In

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P. Briant / M. Chauveau (eds.): Organisation des pouvoirs et contacts culturels dans les pays de l’empire achéménide. Persika 14. Paris. Pp. 23–78. Stolper, M�, 1985: Entrepreneurs and Empire. Istanbul. — 1987: “Belšunu the satrap”. In F. Rochberg-Halton (ed.); Language, Literature, and History� FS E. Reiner. New Haven. Pp. 389–402. — 1990: “Late Achaemenid Legal Texts from Uruk and Larsa”. BaM 21, 559–622. — 1990a: “The Kasr Archive”. In H. Sancisi-Weerdenburg / A. Kuhrt (eds.): Centre and Periphery. Achaemenid History IV. Leiden. Pp. 195–205. — 1995: “The Babylonian Enterprises of Belesys”. In P. Briant (ed.): Dans les pas de Dix-Mille. Peuples et pays du Proche-Orient vu par un Grec� Toulouse� Pp. 217–238. — 1999: “Achaemenid Legal Texts from the Kasr Archive: Interim Observations”. In J. Renger (ed.): Babylon: Focus Mesopotamischer Geschichte, Wiege früher Gelehrsamkeit, Mythos in der Moderne. Saarbrücken. Pp. 365–375. Stronk, J. P., 2010: Ctesias’ Persian History� Düsseldorf� Taylor, D�, 2013: The Arshama Letters from the Bodleian Library 2: Texts, Translations, and Glossary. In http://blogs.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/wp-content/uploads/ sites/116/2013/10/Volume-2-text-and-translation-interleaved-20.1.14.pdf� — 2020: “The Bodleian Letters. Text and Translation”. In C. J. Tuplin / J. Ma (eds�): Aršāma and his World. The Boldeian Letters in Context I. Oxford. Pp. 21–49. Tuplin, C., 2013: “Arshama: Prince and Satrap.” In http://blogs.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/ wp-content/uploads/sites/116/2013/10/Vol-2-intro-25.1.14.pdf. Pp. 5–44. — 2020: “Aršāma – Prince and Satrap”. In C. J. Tuplin / J. Ma (eds.): Aršāma and his World. The Boldeian Letters in Context III. Oxford. Pp. 3–72. — 2020a: “The Fall and Rise of the Elephantine Temple”. In C. J. Tuplin / J. Ma (eds�): Aršāma and his World. The Boldeian Letters in Context III. Oxford. Pp. 344–372. Van Driel, G., 2002: Elusive Silver in Search of a Role for a Market in an Agrarian Environment – Aspects of Mesopotamian Society. Leiden� Vittmann, V., 2009: “Rupture and Continuity. On Priests and Officials in Egypt during the Persian Period”. In P. Briant / M. Chauveau (eds.): Organisation des pouvoirs et contacts culturels dans les pays de l’empire achéménide� Persika 14. Paris. Pp. 89–121. Vittmann, G., 2020: “The Multi-Ethnic Achaemenid Egypt”. In C. J. Tuplin / J. Ma (eds�): Aršāma and his World. The Boldeian Letters in Context III. Oxford. Pp. 263–277.

Reflecting on borders and interconnections in the Mediterranean World: a brief reconsideration of methodological approaches Simonetta Ponchia As they took him (Artaphernes to Athens), the Athenians deciphered his letters, which were written in (As)syrian characters (Assyria grammata), and read them (Thucydides 4�50)

Interest for a comparativistic approach and a Mediterranean dimension for historical research into the ancient world has been progressively increasing and manifests itself in studies of varying width of perspective, including a global approach that attempts to consider phenomena and events according to their interrelations within a scenario that expands well beyond the Mediterranean basin� Studies of the ancient world which consider the interrelations with— and even assign a role of primacy to—the Near East have been the object of debate since the early stages of Assyriology, as illustrated by the famous Babel-Bibel Streit, the pan-Babylonist theories on one side and, on the other, the statement of B� Landsberger which in its essence sounds like a call to adhere to specific competences in scientific research and a refusal of comparativism�1 Yet it is obvious that these scholars and their studies have traced important, although different, paths of research that maintain an important role in shaping the present-day research attitude�

1

Simo Parpola proposed a reconsideration of these theories and studies in one of the first Symposia of the Melammu project (Parpola, 2004). For a detailed treatment of the Babel-Bibel Streit see Lehmann, 1994; for a synthesis and other bibliographical references see Ponchia, 2013.

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The other debate which has imposed reflection on theoretical premises and methods is that known under the label of the criticism of “Orientalism”, widely-known on the basis of E� Said’s seminal work on the intellectual attitude of the West in shaping an image of the Orient, which appears tightly linked to colonial and post-colonial policy and the culture of empowerment�2 Other more specific issues concentrate on the implementation of specialized methods deriving from various disciplines (from economics to sociology, hard sciences, etc�), which provide harvests of data but whose theoretical and operative principles often remain outside the reach of the historian. In the words of Patrick Manning, we may acknowledge that: “The changes brought to history from fields beyond the previously established topics of historical discourse are those most clearly indicating that history has gained new boundaries and new conceptual tools, not just new perspectives on old issues�” (2003: 131)� This situation also imposes on the historian a reflection on the roots of her/his choice of the breadth and methods of analysis� In the present note, remaining aware of this complex epistemological and methodological scenario and of the impossibility of taking into account, even partially, the vast literature on the topic, I would like to concentrate on some selected studies published after World War II and explicitly devoted to the Mediterranean dimension,3 which has elicited in recent times renewed interest especially in the vein of a global historical approach and out of the necessity of integrating the deepening of specialized and sectorial studies within a comprehensive historical discourse. The examples proposed here could be better contextualized, but the variety of perspectives, even cursorily presented, has been selected

2

3

This is not the place to revise the terms of a discussion that has involved various participants and positions. As an example of a different view in the debate on the definition of European culture the book by R. Brague, Europe, la voie romaine (1992) may be mentioned for its consideration of ancient history� The great historiography of the end of the 18th to the beginning of the 19th century is obviously the foundation of the following generations’ achievements� At least the work of Eduard Meyer ought to be mentioned with its universal perspective on ancient history (in the five volumes of the Geschichte des Altertums, 1884–1902, and various studies devoted to classical antiquity, as well as to Egypt, Mesopotamia, Judean history, etc�) See Wiesehöfer 2020. Nor, obviously, can we forget the lesson of M. Rostovtzeff and his History of the Ancient World (1926–27) as well as Social and Economic History of the Hellenistic World (1941)� See also Christ, 1972�

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in the hope of offering an opportunity to reflect on research methods and thus contributing to the calibration of our projects concerning the ancient history of the eastern and western worlds� 1. Borders and contacts from the perspective of classical history In 1947 Santo Mazzarino published in Florence Fra Oriente e Occidente� He was then a young scholar with a quite astonishing knowledge and critical view of historical problems—which he afterwards developed during his brilliant career and in his other ground-breaking works—and perhaps a special perception of the Mediterranean which he had inherited from his native Sicily� He acknowledged that when the systematic study of Greek history began, in the Romantic period, it met with a paramount problem: that of the relationship between Orient and Occident� Mazzarino proposed an interpretation of the Forschungsgeschichte of that and following periods which may be interesting to read even vis-à-vis that of E� Said� He especially considered the development of a crucial dilemma: that between interest in a universal history and the concept of the autonomy of Greek history. He affirmed the unity of ancient history as evidenced by progress in the archaeological and epigraphical fields—a fact that today we can state more emphatically on the basis of new evidence. He, moreover, identified the archaic period of Greek history as a crucial node for understanding ancient culture as pervaded by the tension between east and west, and Ionia as a crucial hub in this dynamic. He described two “orients” as contact areas to which different ways of interaction were related: the first area was located in Asia Minor with its Bronze Age heritage of Hittite civilization and international contacts and, later, the relations between the kingdoms of the Lydians, Phrygians and Carians with Ionian foundations; and the second area spanned from the Phoenician coast to the sea routes. It was along these trajectories that eastern and Mesopotamian heritage was variously transmitted to the west� In 1973, after a career as researcher and professor of ancient history in Oxford and London where he moved as a consequence of racial persecution by the Fascist regime, Arnaldo Momigliano delivered the Trevelyan Lectures at the University of Cambridge that are chosen here as being representative of his vast production� They were published in 1975 with the title of Alien Wisdom. The Limits of Hellenization, and provide a description of the Mediterranean Hellenistic world in which the author’s extraordinary erudition allows a comprehensive interpretation of multisided relationships. The Greek and Roman worlds are seen in relation

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to each other and to those people and kingdoms in the east and west that played a role in the Hellenistic scenario� Momigliano maintains that one peculiarity of the time was the confrontation of the Greeks especially with four other civilizations: the Romans, Celts,4 Jews,5 and Iranians.6

4

5

6

The third lecture is devoted to the Celts; it examines the role of the Phocean colony of Massalia—which was in contact with the Celts and at the same time with the Romans and a bearer of Greek tradition—and the impact of Celts and Galatians in the east as mercenaries and invaders� According to Momigliano, descriptions of the Celts by Latin authors pass through the medium of the Greek narratives and interpretations� Moreover although the memory of Celtic civilization is largely lost and misinterpreted, an example of the breadth of their contacts may be offered by the passage of II Maccabees 8.20 where reference is made to an episode that occurred in Babylon: 8000 Babylonian Jews and 4000 Macedonians fought against Galatian mercenaries� Lectures four and five are devoted to Judaism and the Jews in their relations with Roman and Greek culture. In the fourth lecture Momigliano lists the attested or supposed cases of contact between Jews and Greeks, observing that in the fifth and fourth cent. BC they shared the circumstance of being located at the fringes of the Persian empire. Their inclusion in the Macedonian empire, and the Hellenistic world, opened the way to the knowledge of Judean history as shown by Hecateus of Abdera, the Alexandrinian Jew Aristobulus, Theophrastus, Megasthenes who made a comparison between the Jews and the Brahmans, and Clearchus of Soli who recognized in the Jews the descendants of Indian philosophers, in their turn descendants of the Persian Magi, thus interpreting them according to an image of Oriental wisdom� Later on, the diaspora of many Jews as slaves or mercenaries in the Ptolemaic kingdom and elsewhere imposed the necessity of translating the Torah into Greek� The author goes on to describe the controversial relation between Jewish and Greek culture. The fifth lecture is devoted to the events under Seleucid rule in Judea and the conflictual situation, both on a political and cultural level, at the time of the Maccabean revolt� The topic of the sixth lecture is the Iranian world and the relation between Greeks and Persians, also with reference to works such as that of M. L. West which asserts the debt of Greek Pre-Socratic philosophy to Persian thought. Momigliano discusses this assertion by observing that the variety of solutions proposed by the earliest Greek philosophers cannot be linked to Iranian wisdom on the basis of the evidence we possess, and as an example he examines a scholarly debate concerning the hypothesis of an oriental (Persian or Zoroastrian) derivation of theories concerning the parallelism between the world and the human form (pp� 128f)� He then reviews the attitude of Greek authors towards Persian history and the formation of a largely fanciful tradition about Persian religion and wisdom and its reception by the major Greek philosophers� This (mis)interpretation was pursued to the point of giving the impression “of the dependence of Greek culture on barbarian wisdom” (pp� 146f) and that this civilization “not only loses faith in its own principles, but admires its own forgeries as manifestations of a foreign civilization” (p� 148)�

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A confrontation which was new, or modified in comparison to previous times and into which a varied role was reserved to the Egyptians— traditionally in contact with the Greeks, but whose influence was now declining—and the Hellenised Carthaginian elite� According to the author the novelty of Hellenism was the international circulation of ideas together with the reduction of their revolutionary impact�7 On the other hand, the importance of this epoch is expressed by Momigliano (p. 11) in the assumption that “homo Europaeus has remained intellectually conditioned by his Hellenistic ancestors” insofar as the historical perspective centred on the Greek perception of the world still conditions our historical perspective on ancient civilizations. It is therefore crucial to retrace the evidence of a phenomenon which characterizes the third and second centuries BC, “Non-Greeks exploited to an unprecedented extent the opportunity of telling the Greeks in the Greek language something about their own history” (Momigliano 1975, 7), and these non-Greeks included Jews, Romans, Egyptians, Phoenicians, Babylonians and even the Indians. The varied nature of these contacts—from actual journeys8 and encounters to hearsay news, filtered stories, re-invented traditions9— builds up an image of Greek culture as a medium of transmission of other cultures, which however often operates as a distorting lens� These works, bearing on different phases of Mediterranean relations, are significant examples of a perspective moving from classical history which maintains the Greek world at the centre of the scene but has expanding boundaries and poses two fundamental issues: the problem of identifying the network of contacts through a documentation which is partial and

7

8

9

A different impact was attributed to ideas that emerged in the Greek archaic period in a particularly influential book appearing soon after the end of World War II. As is well known, Karl Jaspers’s Vom Ursprung und Ziel der Geschichte (1949) identified the period from the eighth to second century BC—and its centre in the sixth and fifth especially—as the Achsenzeit, the axial age, which represented a radical innovation in human intellectual achievements and was characterized by almost contemporary, though independent, developments in China, India, Iran, Palestine and Greece, i.e., in a polycentric scenario of small political entities� Cf., e.g., the case of inscriptions from Ai Khanoun in Afganistan (Robert, 1968) which contains sentences of Delphic wisdom and an introductory epigram by Clearchus (probably Aristotle’s pupil, Clearchus of Soli), who says he copied them in Delphi and brought them to Bactria (p. 86). On the significance of the Delphic network, see recently Kyriakidis, 2012 with previous bibliography� Cf n� 6 above�

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variously filtered; the importance of this tradition in shaping European culture and therefore the perspective of historical studies themselves� These perspectives have often been the object of scholarly debate, especially starting from the world of Homeric poems, the “orientalising” and archaic periods, as has recently been reviewed by A� Gunter�10 In her reconsideration of the interaction between east and west on cultural and artistic grounds in the early centuries of the first millennium BC, the author observes that “despite their ubiquity and seeming timelessness, the categories of ‘Greek’ and ‘Oriental’ are modern constructs that impose an artificial homogeneity and polarity not substantiated by ancient sources.” (Gunter, 2009: 50)� She devotes her attention especially to retracing the references, both literary and material, to the circulation of goods and clues of cultural identification. 2. Mediterranean dimension(s) After World War II the Mediterranean dimension was brought to the fore in its complex identity by Fernand Braudel’s famous book La Méditerranée et le monde méditerranéen à l’epoque de Philippe II, first published in 1949 and translated into English in 1972;11 it is also important to mention the book here because of the attention it has received quite recently� The monumental work of Braudel took advantage of the new concepts of history writing elaborated by the school founded by Lucien Febvre and Marc Bloch with the publication of the Annales d’histoire économique et sociale, starting from 1929. In accordance with the aims of that school, Braudel’s approach was not focused on the histoire événementielle, but aimed at writing a history of the longue durée� This meant considering the Mediterranean both in its natural (geographical, geological, ecological) history with its rhythms, and its human history, i�e�, looking for the

10 11

For brevity’s sake the reader is referred to the bibliography given there� A presentation of this book’s genesis in the author’s intellectual and human experience during the years of war and imprisonment is given by Braudel himself in his speech at the congress in his honor held in Châteauvallon in 1985 (Aymard, 1986)� Manning synthesizes the characteristics of this work as: “Braudel, in taking a maritime basin as a unit of analysis, chose to ignore the putative boundaries of nations, cultures, and civilizations� His approach emphasized on the one hand environmental structures underlying human societies and, on the other hand, considering human interactions on many levels� This approach caused him to consider time as a multi-dimensional factor, and he formalized this view with a tripartite division�” (Manning, 2003: 50)�

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relationships between the natural environment—landscape and seascape— and human life� He therefore considered it crucial to investigate the use of natural resources, the opportunities and difficulties of travelling and communicating, and social and economic relations and networks� Braudel underscored the exceptional character of the Mediterranean and the importance of defining it as a conceptual unity. In his study of the 16th cent� AD he focused on the “cabotage” dimension of the relationships and the micro-history “of hundreds of smaller nodes that formed the Mediterranean network”� 12 These principles, here all too briefly mentioned, together with the methodological fundamentals of the École des Annales, are often taken for granted in the practice of historical research, although adopting the comprehensive dimension of Braudel’s research has proven fraught with difficulties and problems, with post-Braudelian historiography being criticized especially for its determinism deriving from attention to natural factors, and its lack of attention to individual agency or change� On the other hand, the focus on interconnections of multiple factors and elements, and consideration of the natural landscape, are perspectives of particular significance in the new trends in historiography that have been labelled as world history or global history, for which Braudel’s lesson is a source of inspiration�13 In recent years, attention to Mediterranean ancient history has been partly influenced by all these stimuli, and Braudelian methodologies have been reconsidered, to be adapted and perfected� Horden and Purcell’s book, The Corrupting Sea: A Study of Mediterranean History which appeared in 2000, revitalized the discussion after years of relative silence�14 Fundamental in this approach is the identification and discussion of the Mediterranean as a single entity, as a unified ecological

12 13

14

Concannon / Mazurek 2016: 1–14� Manning, 2003: 3: “to put it simply, world history is the story of connections within the global human community.” Among the multiple contributions to this field of studies, which is obviously impossible to consider here, it is interesting to note that an interdisciplinary approach, including physical disciplines, is often invoked. In the words of Alfred Crosby: “although the Renaissance is long past, there is great need for Renaissance-style attempts at pulling together the discoveries of the specialists to learn what we know, in general, about life on this planet.” (Crosby, 1972: xiv–xv, quoted from Manning, 2003: 65�) Corrupting sea in the sense that the communication and multiplicity within the Mediterranean hinders attempts at imposing a durable order on the basis of unifying categories and powers (Broodbank, 2013: 20)�

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and cultural space, reappraising the Braudelian difference between “history in” and “history of” the Mediterranean that investigates the environment as the product of the interaction of natural and human factors, rather than considering the landscape simply as a physical backdrop for human activity� In other words, it understands “both landscape and culture as the products of these interactions”� Mediterranean unity is, however, characterized by incertitude and fragmentariness; yet uncertainties and risks, due to geological and climatic conditions, could be transformed into opportunities� From these factors derives the peculiarity of the area that may be interpreted as the result of interconnected micro-regions, where diversity is visible as well as intense interconnectivity� Thus, a representative description of its history may be conceived: “Dense fragmentation complemented by a striving towards control of communications may be an apt summary of the Mediterranean past�”15 In this interpretation Braudel’s history is recast into a more anthropocentric narrative� This comprehensive perspective elicited appreciation and criticism, but was in general considered a source of methodological meditation and tools. One example of works in the same and partly in a critical vein is, for instance, the collection of essays edited by William Harris, Rethinking the Mediterranean. Mediterranean Paradigms and Classical Antiquity (2005)� The discussion moves from a fundamental question: “How should the history of the ancient Mediterranean be written—if it should be written at all? And is Mediterraneanism of much use to ancient historians, or is it alternatively something of a danger (and in effect a cousin of Orientalism)?” He criticizes the approach of Horden and Purcell—who are among the contributors to the same volume—on various points, such as the inability to measure ecological and economic change�16 Harris makes some points worth discussing and formulates various questions, such as those relating to the perception of the Mediterranean space by its inhabitants, or the levels of awareness they had in the exploitation of resources, or the level

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16

Horden / Purcell, 2000: 25. The chronological span the book considers is from Antiquity to Early Medieval, but is articulated in thematic and case studies, not as a chronological reconstruction; besides the Braudelian perspective other authors who represent benchmarks in historiography such as Rostovzeff, Pirenne, and Goitein are specifically treated and the contributions of many others considered and discussed; Broodbank, 2013: 19; Concannon / Mazurek, 2016: 8� Their article is entitled: “Four Years of Corruption: A Response to Critics”.

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of economic interdependence between peoples of the Mediterranean regions; a fundamental one is if there was a Mediterranean unity� The concept of networks and interconnections of smaller units has inspired a renewed interest in specific phenomena with a Mediterranean dimension, such as Greek colonization (for instance in Irad Malkin, A Small Greek World: Networks in the Ancient Mediterranean, 2011)� A comprehensive perspective has been also adopted in elaborating theories of cyclical change in history, likely reminiscent of Vico’s and Hegel’s theorizations, in works addressing an audience larger than the most restricted group of specialists. An extended chronological scheme and a focus on the Mediterranean as a theatre of relations are characteristics of the book by D. Abulafia (2011).17 He considers as major divides in history the phases of disruption of relations that constitute the fundamental character of Mediterranean history� The risk of these undertakings is that of producing a “summary” of history in which the necessary lack of analytical depth may result in misunderstanding some important dynamics� Another example of historical narrative inspired by the Braudelian model applied to antiquity is the book of Cyprian Broodbank, The Making of the Middle Sea: A History of the Mediterranean from the Beginning to the Emergence of the Classical World (2013)� The author sustains without hesitation the importance of a history of the Ancient Mediterranean, a history that starts long before the Classical period and has resonance in the present for millions of people living around the Mediterranean (p� 21)� Broodbank’s history begins from the remote past of the geological history of the Mediterranean basin and reconstructs hubs and interactions until the dawn of the Classical period, highlighting movements and contacts in phases of expansion and in critical periods such as the end of the Bronze Age� However, his fascinating narrative suggests some problems, besides an ideological prejudice that sometimes surfaces: the definition of the boundaries of the Mediterranean; the combination of archaeological and written sources; the definition of the transmission of culture (and of the role of Mediterranean dynamics in it) not only across the Mediterranean but through the ages� These questions involve consideration of the relationship of the Mediterranean basin with the most distant areas and its insertion in world-

17

He declares the scope of his writing as “a history of the Mediterranean Sea, rather than a history of the lands around it; more particularly, it is a history of the people who crossed the sea and lived close by its shores in ports and on islands.” (p. xvii).

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level dynamics, such as those investigated in the global or world history approach�18 It considers topics of worldwide or macro-regional impact as well as long durée chronological extension, such as the domestication of plants and animals, holy wars,19 epidemics,20 migrations and forced population displacements,21 economic developments, the circulation of ideas, etc., and contributes to the problematization of a definition of the Mediterranean and its history� 3. A concluding note on Mediterranean historiography and future research This bird’s-eye view of the historiographical debate brings to the fore various topics: the opposition between a history that risks being “panoramic” and a “history of problems” (i�e�, histoire totale vs� histoire problème); the relationships between geography and human history; the nature of the interconnectivity so often stressed in the “Mediterranean” approach, especially in the relation between micro- and macro-history; the diachronic perspective, so often anchored to the histoire événementiel; and the ability to understand change which, we must consider, is a fundamental cipher of Mediterranean history on both the synchronic and diachronic levels� Useful criteria, rules, and caveats emerge as well, such as the problem of the perception of spaces� Our perception of the Mediterranean and its geography is not the same as in past periods, and it is a perception that changes according to the point of view of the observer� For the Mesopotamians it was the upper limit as opposed to the lower one—the Persian Gulf—whereas a perception of a unique body seems to be linked to the self-centredness of the Roman Empire. Nor are the limits of this unity any clearer; if indeed a unity existed, its boundaries were also variable.

18

19 20

21

For a definition of global or world history, in addition to Manning, 2003 quoted above, see the general introduction by Crossley, 2008, and the studies of Conrad, 2013 and Vanhaute, 2013, all with previous bibliography. Partner, 1998. Often cited is the work of Diamond, 1997 which, among other topics, considers the development of diseases and immunity and connects this to demographical expansion allowed by the domestication of plants and animals in a long-term perspective� The topic of slavery in modern times is an issue largely investigated with a global perspective, cf� Curtin, 1989, Manning, 2003: 94, etc� and most recently also the Journal of Global Slavery�

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All in all, this idea of the meaningfulness of the Mediterranean for historical interpretation raises many problems and, although the Mediterranean space has great importance in constructing and understanding European and Western identities—i�e�, as a perspective against which past and present-day experiences can be evaluated—in historical terms it remains a somewhat elusive concept� Nevertheless, either because of being stimulated by new discoveries and advances in knowledge, matured through the prolonged meditation on methodologies (even contrasting ones), or even due to being fostered by the urgency of new Mediterranean scenarios in the present, a comprehensive perspective on evidence combined has become progressively more compelling and the location of a meeting on this theme in Beirut is particularly meaningful�22 The title evidence combined may be variously interpreted: as the spatial dimension of east and west; as different fields of study (such as history, archaeology, philology); as these fields being seen using methods derived from other analytical models (anthropology, statistics, socioeconomics, etc�); or as the depth and span of the objects of research� In looking for points and trajectories of contact, in the attempt to retrace borders and divisions with their changing natures, we might be inspired by a plurality of methods and models, and even adopt eclectic approaches� The capability to adopt tools derived from social sciences or hard sciences is going to be required of historians and will somewhat modify their roles: “There will still be narrative history, and historians will remain the specialists at combining diverse categories of evidence into stories constructed with a focus on the passage of time� The new side to the historian’s role will be that of synthesizer of methodology�” (Manning, 2003: 141)� In an epoch of stimulating richness of perspectives, some benchmarks appear unavoidable in the historian’s work� We should not underestimate the fact that the variously filtered images that we get of past connections and borders can be understood only through patient philological work and the equally competent study of diverse data; the reconsideration of past

22

Cf� Broodbank, 2013: 51 who quotes a 1992 article in the Times, where it is said that if conflict prevails the Mediterranean will become what the Rio Grande is for the US, i.e., a border fortified by myths on the European origins based on the Celts and Charlemagne and exasperated by the clash between civilizations. He also refers to the 1995 Declaration of Barcelona for a policy of dialogue within the Mediterranean�

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studies may be useful for placing in a correct epistemological perspective the ways we choose to solve a key problem, i�e�, the combination of specific, even local, historical perspectives within a global view.

Bibliography Abulafia, D., 2011: The Great Sea A Human History of the Mediterranean. Oxford. Aymard, M�, 1986: Une leçon d’histoire. Paris. Brague, R., 1992: Europe, la voie romaine. Paris. Braudel, F�, 1949: La Méditerranée et le monde méditerranéen à l’epoque de Philippe II. Paris. Broodbank, C�, 2013: The Making of the Middle Sea: A History of the Mediterranean from the Beginning to the Emergence of the Classical World. Oxford. Christ, K�, 1972: Von Gibbon zu Rostovtzeff. Leben und Werk führender Althistoriker der Neuzeit� Darmstadt� Concannon, C� / Mazurek, L� A�, 2016: Across the Corrupting Sea. Post-Braudelian Approaches to Ancient Eastern Mediterranean� London/New York� Conrad, S�, 2013: Globalgeschichte. Eine Einführung� München� Crosby, A�W�, 1972: The Columbian Exchange: Biological and Cultural Consequences of 1492� Wesport� Crossley, P., 2008: What is Global History? Cambridge� Curtin, P. D., 1989: Death by Migration: Europe’s Encounter with the Tropical World in the Nineteenth Century� Cambridge� Diamond, J�, 1997: Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies� New York� Gunter, C� A�, 2009: Greek Art and the Orient� Cambridge/New York� Harris, W. V. (ed.), 2005: Rethinking the Mediterranean. Mediterranean Paradigms and Classical Antiquity. Oxford. Horden, P. / Purcell, N., 2000: The Corrupting Sea: A Study of Mediterranean History. Oxford. Kyriakidis, N., 2012: “Le sanctuaire d’Apollon Pythien à Delphes et les diasporas grecques, du VIIIe au IIIe s. av. J.-C.”. Pallas 89, 77–93. Lehmann, R. G., 1994: Friedrich Delitzsch und der Babel-Bibel-Streit� OBO 133� Freiburg/Göttingen� Malkin, I., 2011: A Small Greek World. Networks in the Ancient Mediterranean� Oxford/New York/Aukland. Manning, P., 2003: Navigating World History. Historians Create a Global Past� New York� Mazzarino, S�, 1947: Fra Oriente e Occidente� Firenze�

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Momigliano, A�, 1975: Alien Wisdom. The Limits of Hellenization. Cambridge� Parpola, S., 2004: “Back to Delitzsch and Jeremias: The Relevance of the Pan-Babylonian School to the Melammu Project”. In A. Panaino / A. Piras (eds.): Melammu Symposia IV. Schools of Oriental Studies and the Development of Modern Historiography. Milano. Pp. 237–247. Partner, P., 1998: God of Battles: Holy Wars of Christianity and Islam. Princeton. Ponchia, S., 2013: Riflessioni a cent’anni dalla polemica Babel-Bibel. Revue d’assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale 107, 85–99. Robert, L., 1968: “De Delphes à l’Oxus, inscriptions grecques nouvelles de la Bactriane”. CRAI 112, 416–457. Vanhaute, E., 2013: World History. An Introduction� London/New York� Wiesenhöfer, J�, 2020: “Alte Geschichte und Alter Orient� Anmerkungen eines Althistorikers.” In M. Kubeznik / S. Ponchia (eds.) The Ancient Near East and the Foundation of Europe. MWM3. Münster, Pp.11–20.

Epigraphic habit in Western Asia Minor and in the Levant1 Krzysztof Nawotka, Piotr Głogowski This paper is the preliminary report of a project currently conducted at the University of Wrocław but uniting scholars from other places too, most notably Kraków and Exeter, aimed at investigating the epigraphic habit in the Eastern Mediterranean through a number of case studies� Samples are taken from the Black Sea region (cities of the West coast and Crimea), Central Greece (Boeotia and Delphi), the Peloponnese (Olympia), Western and Central Asia Minor (Miletos, Ephesos, Pergamon, Aphrodisias, cities of Great Phrygia) the Levant (Phoenicia) and Egypt (Alexandria, Fayum Oasis). Covering all places in the Eastern Mediterranean would be of course more desirable, but the sheer amount of work involved makes this task impossible; hopefully dense sampling in territories much differing in ethnic and cultural background, economic prosperity and political history would allow for conclusions viable for all of the Eastern Mediterranean�2 This project arises from the realization that surviving ancient inscriptions are not spread evenly over the 1,500–1,600 years from the ninth c. BC, when the Greek alphabetic scripture is first attested, until the symbolic end of classical antiquity, which can be placed under Justinian, with Arab raids and the total collapse of the post-classical order in the seventh c�, or when boulai had already been abolished� The financial autonomy of cities was reduced at that time, so investment in public buildings and paying for spectacles could no longer be made in

1

2

Research on this paper was supported by a grant from the National Science Centre (Poland) UMO-2014/14/A/HS3/00132. The end product of this project was published in Routledge Monographs in Classical Studies: Nawotka (ed�), 2020�

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the time-honoured way attested in thousands of inscriptions,3 Since there are some inscriptions, broadly speaking in the late-antique tradition, from the age of Justinian and occasionally even later, in this project we select an end date in the mid-seventh c� when, with Arab and Slavic invasions, all remnants of ancient city life gave way to the new world order�4 Since in antiquity Greek was the native tongue of many and the language of choice among elites of culture and money in the Eastern Mediterranean, precisely the people who commissioned the most inscriptions, the focus of this project are Greek inscriptions� But questions as to the function and the fluctuating proportion of non-Greek inscriptions in the total epigraphic output will be asked� This project shares the basic methodological approach with those which have preceded it� All projects on the chronological distribution of ancient evidence limit their scope to the published source material� This is the only viable road one can take, knowing full well that for a variety of reasons scores of unpublished inscriptions, papyri and ostraca languish in museum vaults� Our understanding of the term ‘inscription’ in this project is narrow, but much in line with the prevailing view in epigraphy� An inscription is understood as a text carved in durable material, like stone, metal or plaster, which is addressed to a wider audience and often presented to the public. But there exceptions to this rule. We do not count coin inscription or amphora stamps, ostraca, graffiti and dipinti, while we do count inscriptions on small objects, so-called instrumentum� On the one hand, this goes hand in hand with the habit established by major epigraphic corpora, while on the other hand this decision is necessary if we want to have meaningful data on local epigraphic production� The picture might be blurred by the inclusion of a massive quantity of pottery inscriptions, very often of non-local origin, not to mention coin inscriptions, of course� But we realize that this decision, viable and necessary for most places in the Greek world, excludes some categories of inscriptions popular in

3

4

Abolishing of boulai under Anastasius: Lyd�, Mag. III 49 and I 28; Malalas XVI 12; Evagr� H.E. III 42 and their non existence under Justinian: Procopius, Historia arcana 26�6–10; Maas, 1992: 18–1� There is a vast trove of modern literature on the fate of the city in the Mediterranean between the fourth and the seventh c� Not going into the devisive issue of whether it was a decline or a transformation into a new kind of city (see, e�g�, Liebeschuetz, 2001; Haarer, 2017), it suffices to say that the change of the urban landscape was significant enough to see the seventh c� as the end point of the ancient city�

Epigraphic habit in Western Asia Minor and in the Levant

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Phoenicia: ostraca or clay bullae�5 We also exclude cuneiform and early alphabetic Semitic inscriptions, including thousands of clay tablets from Ugarit. Notwithstanding the geographical classification as a Phoenician or Syrian site, the principal reason for excluding these tablets from Ugarit is their age, in general preceding the twelfth c� BC� Since the project measures Greek inscriptions in principal as the dominant from of inscriptions in the Eastern Mediterranean, we exclude much earlier material as not being relevant to making comparisons with Greek alphabetic inscriptions, all of which date from the eighth c� BC until (in this project) the seventh c� AD� By the same token, we do not include Linear A inscriptions found in Miletos either� To the best of our knowledge, no project of this kind has attempted to re-date the ancient evidence based on letter shapes with a new study of artifacts� Although methodologically commendable in theory at least, any attempt to re-study stones, papyri or ostraca would render any project on the temporal distribution of ancient evidence impossibly time-consuming� The same principle was once adopted in the Packard Humanities Institute project on digitalizing Greek inscriptions and this was among the key factors which made completion of his project possible, unlike the much more ambitious PETRAE project which aimed at studying the stones as well� Hence, the project on the temporal distribution of inscriptions in the Eastern Mediterranean only takes into consideration the published material and in principal accepts the dates assigned to inscriptions by editors and scholars who have accessed the stones or squeezes� New dates are proposed mostly on prosopographic grounds, never attempting to read the age of a document on the bases of photographs available in corpora or academic journals� So far the bulk of research on the chronological distribution of ancient documentary evidence has been mostly limited to the age of the Roman Empire. It was first approached in the case of published papyri and ostraca from Roman Egypt. When tabulated in twenty-year periods, the number of dated papyri and ostraca peaks in the high Antonine age, between AD 120 and 160, dropping sharply after AD 160 and especially after AD 220� They then stay very low throughout the remaining part of the third c� AD, with only a slight recovery under Diocletian, then continue to decline in later antiquity� Calculations of numbers of surviving papyri were performed

5

Cf. Vanel, 1967; Cross, 1968; Dothan, 1985; Greenfield, 1985; Ariel / Naveh, 2003; Kaoukabani, 2005�

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in 1925, 1965 and 1980, each time on a larger number of specimens, yet yielding very similar results� This seems to suggest that we see here a true representation of the temporal distribution of surviving Imperial-age papyri, even if based only on ca� 3500 papyri and ostraca�6 Inscriptions and their temporal distribution merit study as they, apart from coins, are the only category of written evidence to be encountered everywhere, albeit not in equal territorial distribution�7Already in 1940 Benjamin D� Meritt noticed, although without resorting to any calculation of the number of inscriptions, that there was something like a habit of producing considerably more inscriptions in a democratic polis than in an oligarchic one, all in reference to Athens�8 Numbers-based research dawned in epigraphy about one generation later� After the pioneering studies of Jean-Marie Lassère on epitaphs in Roman Africa and of Stanisław Mrozek on the frequency of inscriptions throughout the early Empire,9 real scholarly interest in understanding the temporal distribution of ancient inscriptions has been generated by the classical paper of Ramsey MacMullen who coined the term “epigraphic habit”,10 a term now being superseded by the term “epigraphic culture” as it reflects more the social context in which inscriptions were commissioned rather than the dedicator�11 In his paper of 1982 MacMullen posed more questions than offered answers, but his lasting contributions are at least twofold: calling other scholars’ attention to the idea of a very uneven chronological distribution of inscriptions; and promoting the idea of inscriptions as a cultural phenomenon, and not exclusively a source of text.12 The most ambitious attempt to quantify Greek inscriptions has come from Hedrick who has tabulated Athenian inscriptions using the PHI database. His graph shows a steady growth in the numbers of Athenian inscriptions from the eighth c� BC until the pronounced peak in the fourth c� BC� Then the

6 7

8 9 10 11 12

MacMullen, 1982: 234-237� For the geographical distribution of inscriptions in the West see an illustrative table 8�3 in BeltránLloris, 2015: 140, with very high figures for Italy (over 90,000 inscriptions in Rome, over 13,000 in Pompei, over 5,000 in Ostia) and much smaller numbers in western provinces, with the top place of Carthage (over 6,000 inscriptions)� Meritt, 1940: 89–91; cf� Hedrick, 1999� Lassère, 1973; Mrozek, 1973. MacMullen, 1982; Meyer, 1990� Meyer, 2011; Woolf, 1996: 30; BeltránLloris, 2015� BeltránLloris, 2015: 129�

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numbers drop as fast as they were rising to a comparatively low level in the third c� BC, and then continue to decline at much slower pace until the first c. AD. They then recover to a secondary peak in the second c. AD, dropping again in the third and fourth c� AD�13 The graphs in Mrozek’s and Lassère’s papers illustrate the calculated frequency of inscriptions per year. In Mrozek’s graph, covering the imperial age from Augustus until the beginning of the rule of Diocletian, there is a steady growth in the number of inscriptions per year from Augustus until Commodus, then a sudden rise under Septimius Severus when the numbers peak, then they drop as rapidly as they were rising until Severus Alexander, and then again to a low point under Decius. Numbers recover somewhat under Valerian and Galienus and then they drop again to reach their nadir in 284. In Lassère’s graph African epitaphs from AD 1 until 500 are tabulated in 20-year brackets� The numbers of inscriptions per year remain more or less steady until AD 100 when they rise significantly and then somewhat drop again until AD 180 when they rise suddenly to reach a 40-year articulated peak� They then drop again almost to the level of the first c. AD, and there they remain almost unchanged until AD 500. These graphs have been widely used to explain the stunning clustering of inscriptions in the second half of the second c� AD� What has been raised in the discussion is the opinion that inscriptions were cut in order to “fix an individual’s place within history, society and the cosmos”,14 and that they coincide with and reflect changes within Roman society, in particular reflecting the coveted Roman inheritance law spreading throughout provinces with the growing number of Roman citizens.15 Those who study the Roman epigraphic habit/epigraphic culture either admit that what can be deduced from Latin inscriptions is only applicable to Italy and the West, or sometimes claim the universal nature of their study� This alleged universal nature of the epigraphic habit in the Roman Empire needs to be confronted with evidence derived from a representative sample of Greek inscriptions either to confirm or to reject this hypothesis. The preoccupation of epigraphers with the Imperial-age inscriptions is understandable, if only because of a huge discrepancy between the number of extant Republican-age (ca. 4500) and early Imperial Latin inscriptions (ca� 300,000 until the end of the third c� AD)� And the same can be said

13 14 15

Hedrick, 1999: fig. 1 on p. 392. Woolf, 1996: 29, further elaboration of this idea: ibidem, 32� Meyer, 1990�

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of the prominent position of tombstone inscriptions in graphs as this category of inscriptions dominates in Latin epigraphy, with some 70% of all surviving Latin inscription being epitaphs�16 This is certainly not the case in the Eastern Mediterranean� Although, to the best of our knowledge, no calculations of the percentage of epitaphs among all surviving Greek inscriptions have been made, in none of the regions studied within the Wrocław project is the proportion of epitaphs near 70%. Among Milesian datable inscriptions 204 are epitaphs� On the one hand, the number is many times higher than that of Lassère’s/MacMullen’s two datable epitaphs of Africa; on the other hand, the 204 epitaphs represent less than 15% of all datable inscriptions of Miletus, a significantly lower proportion than the 70% estimated for Latin epitaphs of the Empire. The examples of Phoenicia and Miletos seem to prove that, unlike in the West, epigraphy in the Eastern Mediterranean was not dominated by epitaphs, not even under the Empire� Hence, research limited to funerary documents is more than likely to yield results non-applicable to most of the classical world� Graphs of Mrozek and MacMullen are burdened with problems of a varying but serious nature� Mrozek drew his graph based on 1860 inscriptions listed in some important modern scholarly works, not on his systematic study of corpora and related publications�17 Even if it correctly reflects the chronological distribution of Latin inscriptions, it is dominated by tituli honorarii and building inscriptions which mention the names of emperors—and this is a narrow selection, probably biased towards overrepresentation of the age of the Severi�18 Both papers from Mrozek and Lassère illustrate the well-known difficulty faced by any Latin epigrapher: the overwhelming majority of Latin inscriptions do not bear any date and the dates assigned to them by editors are based on latter-shapes. In order to be able to draw a meaningful epigraphic curve MacMullen had to establish a more precise model of making dates recorded by editors� He thus summarizes his dating model applied to Lassére’s data: “4,160 texts, only two datable to a single year, the rest in 25 categories that touch on the empire, for example, “Augustus,” 25 texts, where I have divided that number by the years of the reign, 25 - (27 B.C. to A.D. 14 = 41) = .61 texts per year over A.D. 1–14. There is also “end of Republic/Trajan,” 602 texts running from 40 B�C�, the date somewhat arbitrarily chosen, down to A�D� 117,

16 17 18

Saller / Shaw, 1974: 124; Meyer, 1990: 74; Woolf, 1996: 22–23� Mrozek, 1973: 114 and n� 1 to p� 114 with a list of publications perused� BeltránLloris, 2015: 141� Even Mrozek (1988) admits limitations of his methodology�

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i.e. 157 years = 3.83 per year. For a specific single year, e.g., A.D. 2, I would add 3�83 to �61 to produce the total for that year, and add still more from other overlapping categories� To the categories “early”, “mid”, and “late” I assign the values 0–9, 40–60, and 90–99.”19 Hence, the widely-used graph of Lassére and MacMullen is a modelbased hypothesis and nothing more. Its underlying assumption is the even chronological distribution of the epigraphic production within a defined period, because only with this can one propose dividing the number of attested inscriptions per number of years and still hope to come up with results which might approximate historical reality in the past. Our study seems to indicate that this was not the case, at least not always� Detailed discussion of the even or uneven spread of inscriptions in one given area are presented in the Routledge volume based on a number of case studies in the Eastern Mediterranean. For now, it suffices to say that in Miletos the number of inscriptions datable to a quarter century in the second c� BC is: 51.5, 42, 13, 33, i.e., between 0.52 and 2.06 per year. If all of them had been dated by editors to the second s� BC only, and had we applied the McMullen method of calculating the number of inscriptions per year, we would have come up with 1�4 per year� This grossly distorts the real average for 25-year periods (or if we applied McMullen’s 20year brackets) calculated on numbers of precisely calculated inscriptions� This example warns against over-optimistic use of models in studying the epigraphic habit in antiquity� In this paper, as in the whole Wrocław project of the epigraphic habit, we propose a radically different approach: strictly source-based, taking into account all kinds of inscriptions from one place or area, not limited chronologically to the age of the Roman Empire but covering all of classical antiquity, and based on sampling data from various regions in the Eastern Mediterranean. In this paper we juxtapose Miletos and Phoenicia, two areas which share enough characteristics and exhibit enough difference to make this comparison feasible� These were areas of habitation continuous throughout antiquity, with strong cities and a vibrant economy not dependent on agriculture alone, endowed with important temples, and with a shared political history dominated by Persia, liberated by Alexander, and vaguely in the sphere of the political influence of the Ptolemies, Seleukids and of the Roman Empire. The difference is the status of Miletos, a free

19

MacMullen, 1982: n� 14 to p� 241�

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city for most of its Hellenistic and Roman history and an ally rather than a subject of the leading great powers� Another difference, the most important perhaps, is the ethnic composition of the local population and the pre-Hellenistic cultural tradition� For the purposes of this paper Phoenicia is understood as the Levantine coastal area extending from Mount Carmel in the South to Marathos in the North, including the most important Phoenician cities, e.g., Tyre, Sidon, Berytos, Arados, Byblos and the immediate sphere of their influence in the hinterland, namely the Beqaa Valley, Upper Galilee and Mount Hermon. The area in question to some extent corresponds to the western parts of the Roman provinces Syria Phoenice, Phoenice Maritima and the modern state of Lebanon. This definition of Phoenicia is perhaps narrow in the light of some ancient literary evidence but it fits the prevailing modern perception of this land.20 The great majority of Milesian material is accessible in excellent corpora published by A. Rehm, P. Herrmann and others.21 Because, quite exceptionally for the Greek world, we have a long sequence of eponymic magistrates of Miletos, many Milesian inscriptions bear exact yearly dates. Only very few inscriptions from Phoenicia can be precisely dated (e�g�, according to a particular era or the reign of a particular ruler); the Phoenician epigraphical material in general is dated to a century. In order to make the data from Miletos and Phoenicia comparable, we drew the graphs in this paper by centuries. If an inscription can only be dated to the turn of a century (e�g�, the reign of Trajan or Severus) and there is no other specific chronological evidence, it is assigned to the century which is chronologically more significant. Therefore, inscriptions assigned by the editor to the reign of Trajan will fall in the graph within the second century AD. If the editor gives the date to two centuries, half of the inscription is assigned to each century� At this point, the basis of the current study is the evidence published in the most significant epigraphic corpora and bulletins collecting Semitic, Ancient Greek and Latin inscriptions,22 i�e�,

20 21

22

On ancient definitions of Phoenicia see Głogowski, 2018. P. Herrmann, Milet, VI.1: Inschriften von Milet, Berlin / New York 1997 (re-edition of earlier Milet volumes, the most important of them being G. Kawerau / A. Rehm, Milet, III: Das Delphinion in Milet, Berlin 1914); P. Herrmann, Milet, VI.2: Inschriften n. 407–1019, Berlin / New York 1998; P. Herrmann / W. Günther, N. Ehrhardt Milet, VI.3: Inschriften n. 1020–1580, Berlin / New York 2006; A. Rehm, Didyma II: Die Inschriften, Berlin 1958� The Phoenician inscriptions: IFO; KAI; TSSI 3; RÉS; Abousamra / Lemaire, 2014;

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approximately 950 inscriptions datable according to the criteria discussed above� Thanks largely to the survival of lists of eponymic stephnephoroi, precise yearly dates can be assigned to hundreds of Milesian inscriptions: out of more than 2600 extant inscriptions 1492 can be dated, and among them 901 to a quarter century� The overall picture of the surviving material is represented in the two graphs below: one showing the epigraphic curve by centuries for all datable inscriptions of Miletos and Phoenicia (fig. 1); the other the epigraphic curves for datable inscriptions of Phoenicia arranged by language (fig. 2). In Miletos only eleven Latin inscriptions survive, ten of which datable, five datable Greek and Latin bilinguals, and one Greek-Aramaic bilingual. Since this is less than one percent of all surviving Milesian inscriptions, a graph displaying epigraphic curves for every language would not bring much to the discussion of the temporal distribution of epigraphic data� Surviving inscriptions of Phoenicia are written in Phoenician, Greek, Latin, Aramaic and Syriac, and in these the three first languages are very well represented. This of course reflects the multilingual nature of Phoenicia.

Fig. 1: The epigraphic curve for Phoenicia and Miletus

Sader, 2005; the Greek and Latin inscriptions: IGLS VI; IGLS VII; IGLS VIII.3; IGLS XI; I.MNB; I.Tyr I; I.Tyr II; AÉ; SEG.

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Fig. 2: Inscriptions of Phoenicia by language

However crude division of the source material by a century is, these graphs show prevailing trends in epigraphic output in the two regions under consideration in this paper� Before we turn to the broader picture, one needs to ponder upon the language breakup of Phoenician inscriptions (fig. 2). One of the most important research questions in this paper concerns the representation of Phoenician inscriptions among the total output in this land. Inscriptions in Phoenician dominate the field of Semitic epigraphy in this area—inscriptions written in other Semitic languages occur only sporadically, e�g�, the Assyrian and Babylonian inscriptions from Nahr el-Kalb,23 the Aramaic dedication from the late Hellenistic age at Mount Lebanon24, or the Syriac mosaic inscription from the early Byzantine period discovered near Ptolemais-Acco.25 In order to present the preliminary results of the current research we present a simplified graph including three categories: the combined Semitic inscriptions and the Greek and Latin ones� For the sake of clarity of the graph it does not include the bilingual inscriptions which are not so numerous and do not change the overall shape of the curve. Initially, from the eighth until the fifth c. BC, all inscriptions from Phoenicia were Semitic, predominantly Phoenician. For all the seemingly extensive contacts with the Greek world, the first datable Greek inscriptions appear only in the fourth c. BC and their quantity increases through the third c� BC then, after a temporary

23 24 25

Da Riva, 2009; Roche, 2009. Briquel-Chatonnet / Bordreuil, 2001; Briquel-Chatonnet, 2005� Jacques, 1987�

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decline between the second and the first c. BC, gradually grows until the second c� AD when in general we see the peak of epigraphic activity in the region. Latin arrives in Phoenicia in the first c. AD and continues to be in use until the fourth c� AD� The Latin inscriptions are attested mainly in certain areas of Phoenicia, especially Berytos (Colonia Iulia Augusta Felix Berytus) and Heliopolis�26 Furthermore, a great deal of Latin inscriptions are the so-called inscriptions forestières of Hadrian which define the boundaries of the emperor’s domain at Mount Lebanon� This is in fact by far the best represented category of Latin inscriptions in Phoenicia. Fig� 1 shows the peak of both epigraphic curves in the second c� AD� Their shapes, however, both in the preceding and following centuries are very dissimilar. In Phoenicia the epigraphic curve peaks for the first time in the seventh c� BC� The volume of inscriptions, after some decline in the early Persian period, grows slowly during the Hellenistic age until the 2nd century BC, marking the second peak of the epigraphic curve� The turn of Hellenistic and Roman times brings another depression. After that, however, the number of inscriptions grows rapidly, and in the 2nd century AD the general peak of epigraphic activity occurs� This growth does not last long. In the following centuries epigraphic output declines, with a low point in the fourth c. AD. Then the numbers recover, stabilizing in the fifth and sixth c. AD. The seventh c. AD brings another collapse of epigraphic activity in the region. In Miletos inscribing starts much later, reaching a local peak in the sixth c. BC. The volume of inscriptions produced between the third c� BC and the third c� AD is comparatively high throughout the period, with a very high secondary peak in the second c� BC� Then the numbers decline, slower in the second c. BC and faster in the first c. BC, then recovering in the first and second c. AD, next reaching the overall peak of the Milesian curve in the second c� AD� The Milesian curve drops rapidly in the fourth c� AD, never to recover, and in the following centuries datable inscribing all but disappears� Meaningful interpretation of the epigraphic curves of Phoenicia and Miletos will be possible in the light of similar studies on other places/ regions in the Eastern Mediterranean, now underway within the Wrocław project� But some preliminary conclusions, or hypotheses at least, are possible at this stage. Both curves in fig. 1 peak in the second c. AD. In both cases this happens because of inscriptions associated with Hadrian�

26

cf. Isaac, 2009.

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In Miletos there are honorific inscriptions and a series of private altars dedicated to the deified emperor; because of them the second c. AD peak so clearly exceeds that of the third c. BC. The case of the peak in Phoenicia is even clearer: it is caused almost singlehandedly by the inscriptions forestières of Hadrian (187 listed in the IGLS VIII.3), not associated with any city, and commissioned to define the boundaries of the emperor’s domain in Mt. Lebanon. A different explanation can be offered for the striking difference between the two curves in the Hellenistic age� The most typical category of Milesian Hellenistic inscriptions is decrees, both with a full set of formulae (74) and abbreviated decrees (109)�27 This is ca 7% of all surviving Milesian inscriptions and significantly more in the Hellenistic age as most decrees are concentrated in the period from the late fourth until the first half of the second c. BC, and in last quarter of the third c� BC almost half of all datable inscriptions are decrees� The most striking phenomenon in the epigraphy of Phoenicia is the lack of decrees. There are several honorific inscriptions issued in the name of boule and demos,28 but the evidence for decrees per se is non-existent. This is astounding since decrees are rightfully regarded as the most typical form of expression of a democratic polis.29 The lack of inscribed decrees certainly sets Phoenicia apart from (most) other regions of the Hellenistic world at least in terms of epigraphic habits, if not of the substance of government. This feature of epigraphy of also Phoenicia needs to be taken into consideration in any discussion of the Hellenization of the Levant and its limits� One of the most important phenomena illustrated by fig. 2, but noticed long time ago, is the gradual decline of the inscriptions written in the Phoenician language which vanish approximately in the first c. AD.30 Prag, in his study of the epigraphic habit in another mixed-culture land Sicily, and endowed with a similar total number of ancient inscriptions to Phoenicia, noticed a somewhat similar phenomenon.31 In Sicily, Punic, i.e., Phoenician inscriptions peaked in the sixth c. BC almost simultaneously with the first peak of Greek inscriptions. Then, in the fifth c. BC, the number of Phoenician inscriptions declined rapidly to single figures per year until

27 28 29 30 31

See Nawotka, 2014: 5 for reference� E.g. IGLS VII 4008; 4011; 4013-4015; I.Tyr II 29; I.MNB 142. Bertrand, 1990; Nawotka, 2003� Cf� Briquel-Chatonnet, 1991� Prag, 2002: the graph in question is on p. 23.

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the first c. AD when they disappear altogether. The declining numbers of Phoenician inscriptions are about the only property the epigraphic curves for Sicily and Phoenicia have in common. The curve for Sicily shows a very rapid decline of Punic epigraphic output centuries before the collapse of Punic political power in Sicily. Phoenician inscriptions continued to appear in Phoenicia in comparatively large numbers for a few centuries after the Macedonian conquest� The clay bullae, not counted in this project, continued to be executed in Phoenician too, with limited appearances of Greek. Thus, epigraphic output from Phoenicia seems to point to a gradual Hellenization of Phoenicia until the first c. BC when Greek finally became the language of choice of the local elites, at least in these categories of inscriptions which were likely to be shown in public� Further study in this project will hopefully provide better an explanation of the shape of epigraphic curves when inscriptions are tabulated in quarter-century brackets� Then we should be able to provide some conclusions as to the temporal coincidence of some local peaks in the numbers of inscriptions and the rule of Alexander the Great, Antiochos III, Augustus, some Flavian emperors, and Septimius Severus. One of us has argued for possible causal links between the transformation in Asia Minor under Alexander and the rising number of public documents in a number of Greek cities�32 This and other coincidences will be tested on a broader scale in the Wrocław epigraphy project.

Bibliography Abousamra, G� / Lemaire A�, 2014: Nouvelles stèles funéraires phéniciennes. New funerary Phoenician stelae� Beirut� Alston, R., 2009–2010: “Urban transformation in the East from Byzantium to Islam”. Acta Byzantina Fennica n.s. 3, 9–45. Ariel, D. T. / Naveh, J., 2003: “Selected Inscribed Sealings from Kedesh in the Upper Galilee”. BASOR 329, 61–80� BeltránLloris, M., 2015: “The “Epigraphic Habit” in the Roman World”. In C. Bruun / J� Edmondson (eds�): The Oxford Handbook of Roman Epigraphy� Oxford. Pp. 131–148.

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Nawotka, 2003�

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Bertrand, J.-M., 1990: “Formes de discours politiques: décrets des cités grecques et correspondence des rois hellénistiques”. CGG 1, 101–115. Briquel-Chatonnet, F., 1991: “Les derniers témoignages sur la langue phénicienne en Orient”. RStFen 19, 3–21� — 2005: “The Newly Published Aramaic Inscription of Yanouḥ (Lebanon) and the Question of the Ituraeans”. In O. Al-Ghul (ed.): Proceedings of Yarmouk Second Annual Colloquium on Epigraphy and Ancient Writings (7th-9th October, 2003). Irbid. Pp. 3–10. Briquel-Chatonnet, F. / Bordreuil P., 2001: “Une nouvelle écriture araméenne au mont Liban?”� BAAL 5, 148–152� Cross, F. M., 1968: “Jar Inscriptions from Shiqmona”. IEJ 18, 226–233� Da Riva, R., 2009: “The Nabuchadnezzar Rock Inscription at Nahr el-Kalb”. In A.-M. Maïla-Afeiche (ed.): Le site de Nahr el-Kalb. Beirut. Pp. 255–301. Dothan, M�, 1985: “A Phoenician Inscription from ‘Akko”. IEJ 35, 81–94� Głogowski, P., 2018: “The Notion of Phoenicia in the Roman Period”. Eos 105, 239–265� Greenfield, J. C., 1985: “A Group of Phoenician City Seals”. IEJ 35, 129–134� Haarer, F., 2017: “Developments in the governance of late antique cities”. In Governare e riformare l’impero al momento della sua divisione: Oriente, Occidente, Illirico. Rome: Publications de l’École française de Rome, 2015 (généré le 30 septembre 2017). Disponible sur Internet: . ISBN: 9782728311286. DOI : 10.4000/books.efr.2815. Hedrick, C� W�, 1999: “Democracy and the Athenian Epigraphical Habit”� Hesperia 68, 387–439� Isaac, B., 2009: “Latin in cities of the Roman Near East”. In H. M. Cotton et al. (eds�): From Hellenism to Islam: Cultural and Linguistic Change in the Roman Near East. Cambridge. Pp. 43–72. Jacques, A., 1987: “A Palestinian-Syriac Inscription in the Mosaic Pavements”. Eretz-Israel 19, 54–56. Lassère, J.-M., 1973: “Recherches sur la chronologie des épitaphes païennes de l’Africa”� AntAfr 7, 7–152� Liebeschuetz, J� H� W� G�, 2001: The Decline and Fall of the Roman City. Oxford. Maas, M�, 1992: John Lydus and the Roman Past: Antiquarianism and Politics in the Age of Justinian� London / New York� MacMullen, R., 1982: “The Epigraphic Habit in the Roman Empire”. AJPh 103, 233–246� Meritt, B�D�, 1940: Epigraphica Attica� Cambridge, Mass� Meyer, E. A., 1990: “Explaining the Epigraphic Habit in the Roman Empire: The Evidence of Epitaphs”. JRS 80, 74–96. — 2011: “Epigraphy and communication”. In M. Peachin (ed.): The Oxford Handbook of Social Relations in the Roman World. Oxford. Pp. 191–226.

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Mrozek, S., 1973: “À propos de la répartitions chronologique des inscriptions Latines dans le Haut-Empire”� Epigraphica 35, 113–118� — 1988: “À propos de la répartitions chronologique des inscriptions Latines dans le Haut-Empire”� Epigraphica 50, 61–64� Nawotka, K., 2003: “Freedom of Greek Cities in Asia Minor in the Age of Alexander the Great”� Klio 85, 15–41� — 2014: Boule and Demos in Miletus and its Pontic Colonies� Wiesbaden� Nawotka, K� (ed�), 2020: Epigraphic Culture in the Eastern Mediterranean in Antiquity. London / New York� Prag, J. R. W., 2002: “Epigraphy by numbers: Latin and the epigraphic culture in Sicily”. In A. E. Cooley et al. (eds.): Becoming Roman, Writing Latin? Literacy and Epigraphy in the Roman West. Portsmouth RI. Pp. 15–31. Roche, C., 2009: “Les reliefs assyriens de Nahr el-Kalb”. In A.-M. Maïla-Afeiche (ed�): Le site de Nahr el-Kalb. Beirut. Pp. 241–253. Sader, H�, 2005: Iron Age Funerary Stelae from Lebanon� Barcelona� Saler, R. P. / Shaw D. B., 1984: “Tombstones and Roman family relations in the Principate: civilians, soldiers, and slaves”. JRS 74, 124–156� Vanel, A., 1967: “Six ostraca phéniciens trouvés au temple d’Echmoun, près de Saïda”. BMB 20, 45–95. Woolf, G., 1996: “Monumental Writing and the Expansion of Roman Society in the Early Empire”. JRS 86, 22–39.

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions Simone Oppen Introduction Both the Sumerian City Laments and Aeschylus’ tragedies depict cities, the structures therein, and the lands they occupy lamenting their own destruction or attempting to do so� This striking shared feature suggests that both traditions are concerned with how the loss of monuments is commemorated, in particular alongside the human loss that often accompanies it� By comparing this feature of the City Laments and Aeschylean tragedy, this paper pursues a mode of comparison inspired by Johannes Haubold who prioritizes concerns shared by Mesopotamian and Greek literary texts over questions of historical influence.1 This paper also responds to previous scholarship comparing the Sumerian City Laments and Aeschylean tragedy� M� L� West notes several parallels to Aeschylus’ Seven Against Thebes in the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur, but does not specify the means of transmission between the two traditions�2 Mary R. Bachvarova and Dorota Dutsch suggest that the City Laments are the “best comparanda for the lament motifs” in Aeschylus’ Persians

1

2

Haubold summarizes this approach in his first chapter (2013: 71–72) and conclusion: “[t]hese parallels have often lured scholars away from the texts and towards the historical questions of who influenced whom, when and how. I have argued that reading the texts must take precedence over such questions—even, and especially, if we ask how early Greek hexameter poetry related to Mesopotamian epic” (2013: 181). West compares the opening of Seven Against Thebes to the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur 215–235, and then more specifically compares Seven Against Thebes 357–362 and 363–368 to the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur 240–277 and 283–284, respectively (1997: 553–555)� Neither the chapter that contains this comparison nor the following chapter on transmission specifically addresses how Aeschylus may have encountered the Sumerian City Laments (1997: 544–630)�

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and propose a hypothetical model of transmission to support this thesis�3 Christopher Metcalf has recently argued, however, that parallels without a concrete and historically plausible means of transmission are insufficient evidence for the literary influence of Mesopotamia on Greece that these scholars posit�4 Accordingly, this paper also pursues the question of whether further comparison of the City Laments and Aeschylean tragedy can be valuable if our historical evidence for the influence of the former on the latter is insufficient.5 A city or shrine’s self-lament occurs in the following locations in the Sumerian City Laments: the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur lines 40–62 and 72–79; The Nippur Lament lines 49–69, 127–135, and 181; and The Eridu Lament lines 26–28� This self-lament has been partially explained as personification6 or as an extension of the weeping

3

4 5

6

Bachvarova and Dutsch argue, despite the complete lack of evidence for Athenian knowledge of Mesopotamian lament, that parallels between Aeschylus’ Persians and The Nippur Lament indicate that the early second-millennium BCE Sumerian city laments were transmitted to first-millennium BCE Anatolia from where fifth-century BCE Athenians learned of them (in Bachvarova, Dutsch, and Suter [eds�], 2016: 82–84)� In the course of their book chapter, Bachvarova and Dutsch compare Persians 114–125 to the The Nippur Lament 42–49 and Persians 249–252 and 532–597 to The Nippur Lament 68–75 and 12–21 (2016: 91–94)� Bachvarova further articulates the hypothetical transmission model of lament traditions from Mesopotamia to Anatolia and thence to Greece in an earlier book chapter (2008: 36-37 in particular)� 2015: 13–14 and passim� To my knowledge, the current state of our evidence does not allow us to reconstruct a concrete and historically plausible model of transmission to explain the parallels between the Sumerian City Laments and Aeschylus’ tragedies� This is primarily because, unlike the Sumerian Cultic Laments whose textual tradition extends into the Seleucid period (Cohen, 1988: vol� 1, 24–27), the manuscripts for the City Laments all date to the Old Babylonian period (Samet, 2014: 2)� For the possible relationships between the Sumerian Cultic Laments and the City Laments, compare Cohen (1988: vol� 1, 33–39) to Gabbay (2014: 13–14). In addition, our evidence for the performance contexts of the City Laments comes from the compositions themselves� Green suggests that the celebrations they describe mark the restoration of a city and its shrine and provide the occasion for the City Laments’ performance (1975: 310–312; cf� Cohen, 1988: vol� 1, 38–39)� Tinney argues that praise of King Išme-Dagan in the second half of The Nippur Lament may indicate that the composition was performed as part of a ritual involving the king (1996: 23, 46)� Tinney comments that lines 53 and following of The Nippur Lament personify the shrine, but does not compare this passage to other moments in the Sumerian City Laments in which this feature also occurs (1996: 140, n� 53)�

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions 425

goddess motif�7 I take these explanations as a starting point for a fuller exploration of this feature in the Sumerian City Laments. When examined more closely, the passages containing such self-lament also give voice to other cities and shrines lamenting their destruction� Comparison to moments in which cities, built structures, and lands sing their own laments or otherwise vocalize their losses in Aeschylus’ Persians, Seven Against Thebes, and Agamemnon clarifies the singularity of this feature as it appears in the Sumerian City Laments. In Aeschylus, cities, structures, and lands that lament their own destruction are not clearly separated from their lamenting human inhabitants. In the Sumerian City Laments, by contrast, there is a palpable boundary between a lamenting city or shrine and its human inhabitants� A city or shrine can lament on behalf of its people or land, but the people’s own occasional lament is distinct from this and the land itself cannot lament. Ultimately emulating the model of Erich Auerbach’s famous comparison of the Hebrew Bible to Homer, 8 I do not argue that the Sumerian City Laments somehow influenced Greek Tragedy, as several scholars noted in the previous paragraph have done, but instead show how comparison in a case where influence is unlikely and currently unprovable can nonetheless illuminate certain understudied achievements of a tradition�9

7

8

9

Jacobs classifies the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur 40–62 and 72–79 and The Nippur Lament 49–69, 127–135, and 181 within the weeping goddess category (in Bachvarova, Dutsch, and Suter [eds�], 2016: 22–23, 31)� Auerbach makes this argument in the introductory chapter of Mimesis (1953: 3–23)� Haubold notes this scholarly predecessor as an inspiration to the approach detailed in the first chapter of his recent book (2013: 33–35, 37). Though it is not the focus of my paper, an important strand of earlier scholarship compares the Sumerian City Laments to the Hebrew Bible� Mandolfo provides an overview of this scholarship (in Brown [ed.] 2014: 114–130). In particular, Dobbs-Allsopp has argued that personification of the city in the City Laments influenced that in the Hebrew Bible (1993: 158 and 2000: 626). Petter builds on this aspect of Dobbs-Allsopp’s work in her analysis of the Book of Ezekiel (2011: 68–69)�

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I. Self-lament in the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur, The Nippur Lament, and The Eridu Lament Our ancient evidence for the existence of a Sumerian City Lament genre is inconclusive�10 The Philadelphia and Louvre catalogues, dating to the Old Babylonian period, list the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur, The Nippur Lament, and The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur only�11 Accordingly, I refer to the City Laments as a tradition rather than a genre throughout this paper. In addition, only the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur, The Nippur Lament, and The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur are complete�12 Despite these challenges, the first part of this paper identifies and begins to account for several distinctive features of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur, The Nippur Lament, and The Eridu Lament: first, the conceit that a city or shrine therein can lament; second, the subsumption of their voices into these laments; and third, the concern with the loss of monuments that this demonstrates� The moments in the City Laments on which I focus—the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur 40–62, 72–79; The Nippur Lament 49–69, 127–135, and 181; and The Eridu Lament 26–28—are formally set apart within each composition by the use of the Emesal dialect�13 These are not the only passages in the City Laments that make use of this dialect�14

10

11 12

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14

Green (1975: 281–283) and Tinney (1996: 11–25) critically discuss the idea of genre in relation to the City Laments� Tinney cites these ancient catalogues (1996: 22)� Michalowski notes this in his commentary on The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur “[o]f all these compositions only three are complete: LSUr, LU, and LN� Thus Assyriology is here doubly hampered by a lack of theoretical reflection on generic taxonomy, as well as by the fact that the putative class of texts includes fragmentary compositions� Moreover, if city laments are to be taken as a class, does that mean that they are part of a larger set of texts that can be designated as laments? In view of the fact that other Sumerian texts have been called laments in the literature, the answer will have to be positive” (1989: 5)� For more recent discussion of and bibliography on the challenges of classifying the City Laments, see Cooper, 2006: 41 and passim� Thomsen provides an overview of Emesal, a dialect used in Sumerian laments and other literary compositions in particular to convey the direct speech of women or female goddesses (1984: 285–294)� Schretter’s 1990 monograph provides a detailed analysis of the dialect’s phonological features and literary use, including in the City Laments (1990: 94–96)� Green identifies the use of the Emesal dialect in the Sumerian City Laments (1975: 288–294)�

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions 427

However, I single out these passages because they alone appear to use this dialect to convey the lament of a personified city or shrine. Lines 113–135 of The Nippur Lament are identified as the city’s own lament, but the remaining passages on which I focus are variously interpreted.15 On the basis of this use of the Emesal dialect in The Nippur Lament as well as the grammatical indications I discuss in the following paragraphs, I suggest we might identify the remaining passages listed above as the voice of a personified city or shrine as well. The conclusion that Ur, other cites, and shrines are depicted lamenting their own destruction emerges from scrutiny of grammatical person and case use in the passages on which I focus from the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur� Lines 40–62 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur, quoted with translation below,16 attach the second person possessive suffix –zu to the word for lament (a-še-er) 22 times. (For comparison’s sake, the word a-še-er with and without possessive suffixes occurs 41 total times in these lines�) 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

15

16

uru2 a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra a-še-er-zu gig-ga uru2 a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra uru2 zi gul-la-na a-še-er-bi gig-ga uri2ki gul-la-na a-še-er-bi gig-ga a-še-er-zu gig-ga uru2 a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra uri2ki gul-la-na a-še-er-bi gig-ga a-še-er-zu gig-ga ga-ša-an-zu mu-lu er2-re en3-še3 mu-un-kuš2-u3 a-še-er-zu gig-ga dnanna mu-lu er2-re en3-še3 mu-un-kuš2-u3 še-eb uri2ki-ma a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra e2-kiš-nu-ĝal2 a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra eš3 agrun-ku3 a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra ki-ur3 ki-gal a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra

Green identifies the city’s voice in lines 113–135 of The Nippur Lament, but notes that the speaker is not identified in other Emesal passages from The Nippur Lament or in lines 1–72 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur (1975: 288, 292)� Green does not identify the speaker of lines 26–28 of The Eridu Lament. Jacobs identifies either a storm or a weeping goddess as the focus of all the passages listed in the previous note (in Bachvarova / Dutsch / Suter [eds�], 2016: 22–23)� Line numbers, transliterated text, and translation of the selections from the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur are from Samet’s 2014 edition�

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52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60

eš3 nibruki uru2 a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra še-eb e2-kur-ra a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra ĝa2-ĝiš-šu2-a a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra ub-šu-ukkin-na a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra še-eb uru2-ku3-ga a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra e2-tar-sir2-sir2 a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra ma-gu2-en-na a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra še-eb i3-si-inki-na a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra eš3 e2-gal-maḫ a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra še-eb ki-unugki-ga a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra še-eb uru2-ze2-baki a-še-er gig-ga a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra O city, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! Your wailing is bitter, city, the wailing raised by you! His faithful, destroyed city—the wailing for it is bitter! His destroyed Ur—the wailing for it is bitter! Your wailing is bitter, city, the wailing raised by you! His destroyed Ur—the wailing for it is bitter! Your wailing is bitter! Your lady, the mourner, how long will she be grieving? Your wailing is bitter! Nanna, the mourner, how long will he be grieving? O brickwork of Ur, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O Ekišnuĝal, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O shrine, Agrunkug, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O Kiur, great place, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O shrine, Nippur, O city (of Nippur), the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O brickwork of Ekur, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O Ĝaĝiššua, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O Ubšukkina, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O brickwork of Urukug, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O Etarsirsir, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O Maguena, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O brickwork of Isin, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! O shrine, Egalmah, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you!

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions 429

61 O brickwork of Uruk land, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! 62 O brickwork of Eridu, the wailing is bitter, the wailing raised by you! Each line using the possessive suffix –zu in lines 43–62 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur also directly addresses a city or location, either denoted generically with uru2 (repeated five times in these lines) or a specific city or shrine, as follows: Ur, Ekišnuĝal, Agrunkug, Kiur, Nippur, Ekur, Ĝaĝiššua, Ubšukkina, Urukug, Etarsirsir, Maguena, Isin, Egalmah, Uruk, and Eridu.17 As Nili Samet points out in her 2014 commentary, understanding this passage as a direct address to cities or shrines bewailing their own destruction depends, in part, on understanding the final -a in gul-a-na (in lines 42, 43, and 45) as an anticipatory genitive rather than as a locative�18 These grammatical indications show that the cities and shrines mentioned in lines 40–62 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur are lamenting their own destruction� But who mentions these cities and shrines? On the basis of the use of Emesal in these lines and the parallel of The Nippur Lament lines 113–135 mentioned in the introduction to this section, we might also consider the speaker of lines 40–62 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur to be the city Ur or a shrine therein� A momentary shift into the third person at lines 42–43 and 74–75 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur may also support this conclusion� Lines 42–43 and 74–75 (the latter quoted below) reveal both animate and inanimate third person forms: the animate pronominal element -n-19 compounded with the anticipatory genitive -a in gul-la-na and the inanimate possessive suffix -bi in a-še-er-bi.

17

18 19

Samet suggests that these cities and locations are arranged in order of importance: “[t]he sequence of the cities and temples in most manuscripts is as follows: Ur (with Ekišnuĝal and Agrunkug), Nippur (with Kiur, Ekur, Ĝaĝišsua, and Ubšukkina), ĜirsuLagaš (with Urukug, Etarsirsir, and Maguena), Isin (with Egalmah), Uruk, and Eridu. The placement of Ur as the first item in the list is again intended to reveal that Ur is the central theme of the lament� The rest of the cities are probably arranged in order of importance” (2014: 18)� Samet, 2014: 84, nn. 42−43, 45. Thomsen discusses the pronominal elements in the prefix chain (1984: 217). Jagersma provides a more detailed discussion of the pronominal system (2010: 207−239).

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72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79

a-še-er-zu gig-ga dnanna mu-lu er2-re en3-še3 mu-un-kuš2-u3 ki-ru-gu2 2-kam-ma uru2 zi gul-la-na a-še-er-bi gig-ga uri2ki gul-la-na a-še-er-bi gig-ga-am3 ĝiš-gi4-ĝal2-bi-im nin lu2 e2 ḫul-a-ta uru-ni er2-re ba-an-di-ni-ib-ĝar d nanna lu2 kalam ba-an-da-til-la uri2ki-e a-nir-ra bar ba-an-da-ab-tab Your wailing is bitter! Nanna, the mourner, how long will he be grieving? (The second kirugu) His faithful, destroyed city—the wailing for it is bitter! His destroyed Ur—the wailing for it is bitter! (Its ĝišgiĝal�) Because of the lady of the devastated house, her city was given over to tears, Together with Nanna, whose land has perished from him, Ur burns in wailing.

Lines 78–79 clarify the identities of the animate and inanimate third person entities in the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur: the god Nanna and the (destroyed) city Ur. The repeated comitative -da- in these lines (ba-an-da-til-la in line 78 and ba-an-da-ab-tab in line 79) indicates that the city Ur nonetheless joins the god in lamenting its own destruction. It thus appears that a city or shrine lamenting its own destruction in the City Laments can also act as a repository for the laments of other cities and their shrines� Lines 48–62 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur evoke the lament of cities (for example: Ur, Nippur, Isin, and Eridu) and individual shrines (for example: Agrunkug, Nippur, Ekur, and Egalmah) with the repeated refrain a-še-er-zu ĝar-ra, while lines 72–79 focus on the lament produced by the god Nanna and the city Ur. Similarly to the laments of individual shrines and cities mentioned in lines 48–62 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur, a temple is depicted producing its own lament in lines 49–69 of The Nippur Lament: 20

20

The transliterated text and translation of The Nippur Lament here and elsewhere are from Tinney’s 1996 edition�

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions 431

49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

[é zi-d]è ér gig-ga-bi im-me [k]i-ru-gú 1-a-kam […] x é? mu-un-dù dnin-líl NA [g]iš-gi4-gál-bi-im é zi-dè ér a-še-er ma-ra-ba šìr gig-ga im-me šu-luḫ zi ḫa-lam-[ma-šè] še-eb é-kur-ra-ke4 a-še-er ma-ra-ba šìr gig-ga im-me šu-luḫ zi ḫa-[lam-ma]-šè garza maḫ ĝiš-ḫur kal-kal šu ḫul dug4-ga ér gig ì-šeš4-šeš4 šuku šub-šub-ba kù-kù-ga-bi ki-sì-ga x-ba múš-àm-bi im-me me luḫ-luḫ-ḫa sikil šen-na-bi šu-pel-lá-ke4-eš é-e ur5 íb-ug7 é zi-dè ní-bi sun5-sun5 gig-ga-a u4 mi-ni-íb-zal-zal-e ér im-pél-[pél] é-a níg gar-ra níg-diri-bi kišib-bi íb-duḫ-a-aš gú ki mu-ni-ib-gál níg-gur11 èrim sag-sì-ga-ba šu-gi4 ba-ab-dug4-a-aš a-na ma-lá imme lú-kúr-ra sa6 ḫul nu-zu-ne níg-dùg bí-ib-ku5-ru-uš-a-aš i-lu gig imme nam-lú-ùlu-bi máš-anše-gin7 šà-ba mi-ni-ib-til-la-aš a ka-na-ámmu im-me ki-sikil guruš di4-di4-lá-bi-ne zar-re-eš mi-ni-ib-sal-la-aš u8-a-bi im-me urin-bi muru9 šèg-gá-gin7 ki-e bí-ib-sù-a-aš ér-šè nu-gul-e é-e áb amar-bi ku5-rá-gin7 ní-bi-šè ur5 gig-ga im-ša4 šex-šex ì-gá-gá balag-di lú ad dùg-ga-ke4-ne ummeda u5-a di-gin7 mu-bi ér-ra mini-ib bal-bal-e-ne [The true temple] wails bitterly� ——— Kirugu 1 ——— …built the temple, Ninlil… ——— Its antiphone ——— The true temple gave out (only) tears and lamentation to you— It sings a bitter song of the proper cleansing-rites that are forgotten! The brickwork of Ekur gave out (only) tears and lamentation to you— It sings a bitter song of the proper cleansing-rites that are forgotten! It weeps bitter tears over the magnificent rites and most precious designs which are desecrated, Its food rations neglected, most sacred (though they were), [and turned into] funeral offerings, it cries “Alas!”

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59 For its rituals, utterly cleansed, pure, hallowed, which are (now) defiled, the temple despairs! 60 The true temple, which it is bitter to enter on one’s own, 61 Whiles away the days…tears� 62 Because the sealings of the abundant materials stored in the temple are opened, they have put the loads on the ground� 63 Because the property in its well-tended storehouses has been sent back, it says “What will they weigh out for me (now)?”; 64 Because all the enemies who do not know good or evil have cut off (all) good things, it sings a bitter dirge; 65 Because they finished off its populace within it like animals, it cries “Oh! My land!” 66 Because they piled up the young women, young men and their little children like heaps of grain, it cries “Woe!” for them. 67 Because they spattered their blood on the ground like a rain-storm, there is no restraint to (its) crying� 68 The temple, like a cow whose calf is cut off, groans bitterly to itself, it is tear-stricken, 69 And the sweet-voiced lamenters, like nursemaids singing a lullaby, respond tearfully with its name� Comparison between these passages from the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur and The Nippur Lament reveals that both laments utilize personification to animate the suffering of shrines and cities. Human suffering, by contrast, is not expressed in the passages from the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur; while line 46 mentions a female mourner, Samet suggests that this is Nanna’s spouse, the goddess Ningal, not a human woman�21 In the last several lines of the passage from The Nippur Lament above, human suffering is expressed and the temple vividly mourns it� However, this animation of the temple’s mourning accompanies a depersonalization of the human suffering it mourns via simile� At line 65 of The Nippur Lament, either the city’s humanity (nam-lúùlu-bi), the strangers who end their lives, or both parties are compared to animals (máš-anše-gin7)� As at lines 58 and 63 earlier in this passage, the description of past atrocities at line 65 leads the singer to ventriloquize the temple’s ostensibly more immediate exclamation and first-person response: a ka-na-ám-mu im-me. Notably, this first-person response

21

2014: 85, n� 46–47�

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions 433

emphasizes the loss of land (ka-na-ám-mu) rather than the loss of human life that immediately precedes it in The Nippur Lament. In the next line, women, men, and children are described being spread or heaped up like sheaves of grain (in line 66, zar-re-eš mi-ni-ib-sal-la-aš)�22 Lastly, human bloodshed is portrayed as if it were part of a rainstorm, while the fleetingly anthropomorphized temple cries unrestrainedly in response (line 67)�23 In sum, although the comparisons in lines 65–67 evocatively describe human suffering, they also simultaneously depersonalize it by rendering individuals as animals or sheaves of grain and their destruction as bad weather�24 This depersonalization is striking when contrasted with the personification of shrines and cities lamenting their own destruction here and elsewhere in The Nippur Lament. Going beyond the personification in the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur and in lines 49–69 of The Nippur Lament discussed above, lines 127–135 of The Nippur Lament arguably feature the first-person voice of the city Nippur as this voice describes others lamenting it: 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135

22

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24

nin é dù-a ki-tuš-a-ne-ne lul-e-eš ba-ab-gar-ra tumu-e ba-ab-tur-ra-àm lú-érim-e ka-na-ám-mu íb-til-la ér-ra ma-a-ar ma-an-gá-gá-ne-àm šà ág-gig-ga íb-diri-mu ad-bi-šè ba-ab-bé-ne íb-šed10-dè-ne-àm ér-bi ù-mu-un-gá-gá-dam arḫuš šà-ne-ša4 ma-ar ma-an-tuk-tuk-àm d mu-ul-líl a-a sag gi6-ga-ke4 ki-mu gi4-gi4-mu á-bi ì-ág-gá-a-ke4

Fink explores how similes involving heaps of dead enemies are used in descriptions of battles from royal inscriptions of the Ur III period (2016: 123, 126). By contrast to these inscriptions, line 66 of The Nippur Lament uses a simile of this sort to describe the other side of the story: what the enemies have done to the city’s people, rather than what a vanquishing king has done to his enemies� On the basis of comparison to Old Babylonian balag, Tinney suggests that ér-šè nugul-e in line 67 means unrestrained crying (1996: 143, n� 67)� Samet discusses the storm as a destructive agent in Sumerian lamentation literature (2014: 15, 22–4)� Despite the ubiquity of this feature, the naturalization of violence as described in line 67 of The Nippur Lament is nonetheless noteworthy�

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127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135

The dwellings of ladies with well-built houses Were falsely founded, they have been eroded by the winds! Of how the foe finished off my land They are setting up a lament for me! To soothe it, they are addressing the cries of my heart which bitterness overwhelmed! They are setting up their laments about my lord (Enlil)! He will have mercy and compassion for me, Enlil, father of the black-headed ones, He who will give the order to restore me!

The first-person voice arguably belonging to the city Nippur is indicated, for example, by the use of the first-person singular dative pronoun in its Emesal form ma-a-ar at line 130 (ér-ra ma-a-ar ma-an-gá-gá-ne-àm).25 The first-person exclamations earlier in The Nippur Lament (at lines 58, 63, 65, and 66) mark the subsumption of the city’s or one of its shrine’s brief responses to its own and to its people’s destruction within this lament� Here, however, the city’s extended first-person lament becomes the matrix into which other laments for its desecration are embedded� This personification does not appear in isolation; elsewhere in The Nippur Lament and briefly in the fragmentary Eridu Lament, shrines are anthropomorphized as they acquire human body parts and even expressive gesture. In line 181 of the The Nippur Lament, the compound verb igi/ibi -zi indicates that the shrine’s own eyes (rather than those of its viewers) suffer: še-eb èn-šè ér-ra a-še-er-ra i-bí mi-ni-ib-zi-zi-zi (“The brickwork, how long will it strain [its] eyes upwards in tears and lamentations?”)� Before crying out in self-lament in lines 26–28 of The Eridu Lament,26 the shrine Abzu appears to perform a gesture of abasement before the god Enlil by placing its neck on the ground: 26 den-líl-le sag-ki gíd-da-gin7 eridu.ki èš-abzu gú ki-šè ba-ni-ib-gar 27 ki-ru-gú 1-kam-ma-àm 28 a urú gul-la é gul-la- ⎡ri⎤ gig-ga-bi im-me

25

26

Thomsen provides this alternative form of the dative, first-person singular pronoun ĝá-a-ar (1984: 68). Schretter discusses Emesal’s phonological alternation from ĝ to m (1990: 43)� The transliterated text and translation of The Eridu Lament are from Green’s 1978 edition�

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions 435

26 As if Enlil had glared angrily at it, Eridu, the shrine Abzu, bowed low� 27 (kirugu 1) 28 O! The destruction of the city! The destruction of the temple! It cried out bitterly� The apparent personification in this shrine’s gesture of abasement may echo the arguable forerunner of the City Laments, the Curse of Akkad. In the Curse of Akkad, however, the city’s sanctuary is explicitly compared to several animals in turn, whereas in The Nippur Lament and Eridu Lament, gesture appears to be a form of personification in keeping with the roles given to temples and shrines elsewhere in the City Laments�27 The passages from the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur, The Nippur Lament, and The Eridu Lament which I have examined in this section repeatedly personify cities and shrines in self-lament� Consideration of passages from these and other City Laments in which people perform laments suggests that the lament of a city or shrine is usually distinct from that of its human inhabitants�28 Lines 479–481 of The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur provide a counterexample that helps to illustrate my point: 479 uruki líl-lá-àm šà-bi a-še-⎡ra⎤ gi ér-ra ba-an-mú 480 šà-bi a-še-ra gi ér-ra ba-an-mú 481 un-bi a-še-er-ra u4 mi-ni-ib-zal-zal-e

27

28

Cooper’s 2006 article provides bibliography and argues that the Curse of Akkad, dating to the Ur III period, influenced the City Laments. The Curse of Akkad does not personify cities and shrines but, similarly to The Nippur Lament and the Eridu Lament, lines 77–82 of The Curse of Akkad characterize Akkad’s sanctuary as a fish, an elephant, and a dragon in order to describe its physical subjugation. The lament for Akkad, however, is explicitly sung by its surviving human inhabitants and a professional singer in lines 193–209� For a full edition of and commentary on The Curse of Akkad, see Cooper 1983� There are also moments in the City Laments in which laments sound without an agent, but they are not the focus of my argument� Enlil’s somewhat cryptic reply to his son in The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur mentions the city’s lament but does not clearly express any agent: den-líl-le dumu-ni den�zu-ra mu-un-na-ni-ib-gi4-gi4 / uru2 líl-lá šà-bi a-nir-ra gi ér-ra ba-àm-mú (“Enlil then answers his son Suʾen: “There is lamentation in the haunted city, ‘mourning’ reeds grow there…”” 360–361)� Agentless laments sound again at lines 379–380 of this same composition: uri5ki-ma giš-bi tu-raàm gi-bi tu-ra-àm / bàd-bi en-na nigin2-na-bi-da a-nir ba-da-di (“The trees of Ur were sick, the reeds of Ur were sick, / Laments sounded all along its city wall”).

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479 There is lamentation in the haunted city, “mourning” reeds grew there, 480 In its midst there is lamentation, “mourning” reeds grew there. 481 Its people spend their days in moaning. 29 Despite Michalowski’s translation of line 481, the word a-še-er-ra here suggests that the people lament rather than moan. In only one other moment in the City Laments do the people of the city lament, as opposed to vocally reacting to their city’s destruction: in lines 42–43 of The Nippur Lament the men of the city who have lost their families perform a song: lú dam šub-ba dumu šub-ba-ne / a úru ḫul-a-me šìr-re-eš ba-ab-bé-ne (“The men whose wives had fallen, whose children had fallen, / Were intoning “Oh! Our destroyed city!””). Other moments in the City Laments show a separation at the level of articulation between laments produced by people and those produced by a city or shrine� Lines 173–246 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur repeat the refrain uĝ3-e še am3-ša4, which Samet translates as “the people moan,” 26 times� The two-word verb še ša4 used in every instance to express the people’s moaning in the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur is distinct in both lexical meaning and level of articulation from the noun a-še-er used to express lament at line 481 of The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur and from the noun šìr used to express song at line 43 of The Nippur Lament� Lines 479–481 of The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur thus offer a rare glimpse, within this tradition, of a city whose lament is explicitly performed by the people who inhabit it rather than by the personified and anthropomorphized city or shrine as elsewhere in the City Laments� These passages from the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur, The Nippur Lament, and The Eridu Lament use the Emesal dialect or word choice to set a city or shrine’s lament apart at the level of articulation� As the passages discussed in the last paragraph show, this does not mean that cities and shrines replace people singing laments, but instead it establishes their contribution as being distinct. In addition to separating human mourners by dialect and diction from their structural counterparts, however, this section has argued that this tradition also uses a lamenting city or shrine as a repository for the laments of other cities or shrines� These features of the Sumerian City Laments go well beyond personification to suggest

29

The transliterated text and translation of these and other selections from The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur are from Michalowski’s 1989 edition�

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions 437

this tradition’s particular concern with the commemoration of the loss of monuments. To shed further light on these unique accomplishments, I turn to a genre from approximately 1500 years later and 2800 kilometers away that also expresses monumental loss through the conceit that cities and other physical entities can sing and vocalize�30 II. The lament of cities, lands, and built structures in Greek Tragedy This paper’s second section compares the Sumerian City Laments to cities, lands, and built structures lamenting their loss in Aeschylus’ Persians, Seven Against Thebes, and Agamemnon. In this comparison I am not asserting that Greek Tragedy that at times laments the fallen city is, for this reason, part of a genre of lament for the fallen city in the Greek tradition, but rather that this is a point of similarity between the Sumerian City Laments and Greek Tragedy that merits examination.31 Building on the findings of the previous section, I am particularly interested in how Aeschylus depicts lamenting cities, lands, and built structures in comparison to the people who inhabit them and what this reveals about the playwright’s approach to commemorating the loss of monuments� At lines 115–125 of Aeschylus’ Persians, the chorus of Persian elders fearfully imagines the Cissian city singing in response to them, in Susa,32 as indicated by the repetition of the exclamation of woe (ὀᾶ in lines 117 and 122) and the adjective ἀντίδουπον marking the second ὀᾶ (in line 122) as a response to the first:

30

31

32

Samet discusses the dating of the City Laments, distinguishing the dates of the historical events that the City Laments depict from the dates on which they were written (2014: 5–9)� Samet suggests that the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur and The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur can only be dated by the historical events they depict to after the fall of the third dynasty of Ur in 2004 BCE. On the basis of their reference to King Išme-Dagan (1953–1935 BCE), Samet adds that The Lament for Nippur and Lament for Uruk may have been written approximately 60 years after fall of the third dynasty of Ur. Samet also notes that The Eridu Lament is too fragmentary to date (2014: 6, n�27)� In this, I follow Bakewell who questions scholarship positing a continuous, coherent genre of lament for the fallen city in the Greek tradition (in Bachvarova, Dutsch, and Suter [eds�] 2016: 106)� Garvie notes that Aeschylus conceived of Susa and Cissia as different cities (2009: 88, nn�120–125)�

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ταῦτά μοι μελαγχίτων φρὴν ἀμύσσεται φόβῳ, [στρ. δ.] ὀᾶ, Περσικοῦ στρατεύματος, τοῦδε μὴ πόλις πύθηται, κένανδρον μέγ’ ἄστυ Σουσίδος· καὶ τὸ Κισσίων πόλισμ’ ἀντίδουπον ᾄσεται, [ἀντ. δ.] ὀᾶ, τοῦτ’ ἔπος γυναικοπληθὴς ὅμιλος ἀπύων, βυσσίνοις δ’ ἐν πέπλοις πέσῃ λακίς. For these reasons, my black-cloaked heart is stung with fear—woe for the Persian expedition—that from this the city should learn, the great town of Susa is empty of men; and [that] the city of the Cissians will sing in return—woe—a throng composed of women singing this tale, and [that] on fine linen garments a rending would fall. 33 This responsion is accentuated by the structure that the metrical repetition in this paired strophe and antistrophe provides. In the antistrophe, the apposition of a throng of women to the Cissian city at line 122 suggests that the initial description of this city singing is shorthand for the lament of its female inhabitants specifically, expressed through song and then the rending of garments� The subtle differences in meaning of the three different words for city used in this strophic pair (πόλις, ἄστυ, and πόλισμα) may help to pinpoint just which part of the Cissian city is momentarily imagined singing in response to the chorus of elders in Susa at the beginning of this antistrophe. Entry III for πόλις in the LSJ lexicon clarifies that the use of πόλις and ἄστυ in the strophe is not just repetition: “community or body of citizens (opp. ἄστυ, their dwellings���)�”34 The noun πόλισμα used in the antistrophe, by contrast, refers primarily to the buildings that compose a city in the LSJ definition.35 Thus, in a manner similar to the Sumerian City Laments, the buildings of the Cissian city are briefly imagined singing at the beginning of this antistrophe. When describing the flight of the Persian army from Greece, the messenger portrays the Persian city mourning its losses in a manner similar to the chorus’ depiction of the Cissian city singing a lament in

33

34

35

Greek citations from Aeschylus in this paper come from Page’s 1972 text and translations are my own� LSJ= Liddell and Scott, 1996: 1434� Garvie’s comment on lines 115–119 suggests that he views the use of these two nouns as repetitive: “[t]here is a slight awkwardness in the tautology πόλις…ἄστυ, which can scarcely be distinguished in sense, and which can hardly refer to different cities (so Σ μὴ πύθηταί τις τῶν ἑτέρων πόλεων κενὸν ἀνδρῶν ὂν τὸ ἄστυ), or to different parts of Susa…” (2009: 88). LSJ, 1996: 1434�

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions 439

the parodos of Persians quoted above� Lines 508–512 of the messenger’s speech, however, depict mourning with the verb στένω rather than song (denoted by the verb ἀείδω in the parodos). Τhe verb στένω is used to describe the Persian city’s mourning out of yearning for its young men in the messenger’s speech: ὅσοι δὲ λοιποὶ κἄτυχον σωτηρίας, Θρῄκην περάσαντες μόγις πολλῷ πόνῳ ἥκουσιν ἐκφυγόντες, οὐ πολλοί τινες, ἐφ’ ἑστιοῦχον γαῖαν, ὡς στένειν πόλιν Περσῶν, ποθοῦσαν φιλτάτην ἥβην χθονός. As many as remained and attained safety, once they passed Thrace barely with great effort they came in flight, not many, to the hearth land, with result that the city of the Persians moans, as it yearns for the land’s exceptionally beloved youth. The conceit that physical entities can mourn extends to land and an individual house in successive passages of this play’s choral lyric� At lines 548–549 the chorus repeats the verb στένω to describe the vocal grief of the continent Asia over the human toll of the Greco-Persian Wars: νῦν γὰρ δὴ πρόπασα μὲν στένει / γαῖ’ Ἀσὶς ἐκκενουμένα (“For now indeed all the land Asia moans since it is being emptied out”)� Just over 30 lines later (in lines 579–583) the chorus portrays a house mourning, this time using the verb πενθέω to denote lament: πενθεῖ δ’ ἄνδρα δόμος στερηθείς, τοκέες δ’ ἄπαιδες δαιμόνι’ ἄχη, ὀᾶ, δυρόμενοι γέροντές τε πᾶν δὴ κλύουσιν ἄλγος. The house laments the man it has been bereft of, and childless parents [lament] divine pains—woe—old men bewailing and indeed they hear every grief� Similarly to the passage from the parodos in which the description of the Cissian city singing was closely followed by a depiction of its female inhabitants’ lament, the description of the house lamenting a man at line 579 (πενθεῖ δ’ ἄνδρα δόμος) is closely followed by a description of its inhabitants lamenting as well. It thus appears that Aeschylus depicts a tenuous and at times indistinguishable boundary between cities, lands, and built structures lamenting their loss and the people who inhabit these physical entities� To consider what this boundary or lack thereof might

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reveal about the playwright’s approach to the loss of monuments, I survey other passages in Aeschylus in which cities, lands, and built structures lament their loss� In the remaining passages in Persians that depict these physical entities in lament, first Darius’ ghost and then the chorus vividly ventriloquize the land’s suffering as it moans for and bewails its own destruction and the loss of the youth it now contains: ὦ πιστὰ πιστῶν ἥλικές θ’ ἥβης ἐμῆς, Πέρσαι γεραιοί, τίνα πόλις πονεῖ πόνον; στένει κέκοπται καὶ χαράσσεται πέδον. [Most] faithful of the faithful and coevals of my youth, elderly Persians, what suffering does the city suffer? The ground moans, it has been struck, and it is being scraped� (681–683) … γᾶ δ᾿ αἰάζει τὰν ἐγγαίαν ἥβαν Ξέρξᾳ κταμέναν, Ἅιδου σάκτορι Περσᾶν· And the earth bewails the youth below the earth killed by Xerxes, packer of Persians for Hades. (922–924) Between these two passages in the order of the play, the Queen briefly describes Susa lamenting its men’s absence: πρὸς τάδ’ ὡς Σούσων μὲν ἄστυ πᾶν κενανδρίαν στένειν (“In response to these things how the whole town of the people of Susa laments the absence of [its] men” 730)� The verb στένω in line 730 is familiar from the passages considered earlier in this section (Persians 511, 548, 683)� Notably, the land bewails its own loss only once more in the surviving tragedies of Aeschylus and this verb reappears there. In this passage, lines 900–902 of Seven Against Thebes, the chorus describes the land groaning along with the city and its towers over the loss of Eteocles and Polyneices: διήκει δὲ καὶ πόλιν στόνος· [ἀντ. β.] στένουσι πύργοι, στένει πέδον φίλανδρον· And groaning pervades the city as well; towers are moaning, the manloving ground is moaning� Here, too, Aeschylus conveys the land’s lament with the verb στένω, here amplified by repetition and the use of the cognate noun στόνος.

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions 441

By contrast to Aeschylean tragedy, description of the land (rather than a city or shrine) vocalizing its own loss is merely a present absence in a single City Lament. In line 342 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur the poet tells Ningal that her land no longer weeps, and in line 344 the poet states the impossibility of her land’s further vocal expression: 36 er2-zu er2 kur2-ra ba-ab-ĝar ka-na-aĝ2-zu nu-še8-še8 er2-ša3-ne-ša4 nu-du12-a kur kur2 im-ma-tuš ka-na-aĝ2-zu ni3-du11 si-a-gin7 ka šu ba-ni-ib-dab5 Your laments have become alien laments, your land no longer weeps; 343. Performing no lamentation prayers, it dwells in foreign countries. 344� Your land, as if “overfilled” with words, is mouth-gagged�

342� 343� 344. 342�

The rarity of land bewailing its own destruction elsewhere in Aeschylus suggests that Persians is especially concerned with performing the suffering of the land in and around Susa in an Athenian cityscape� This particular feature of Persians might be a context-specific approach to commemoration of the loss of monuments in an Athenian cityscape still bearing the traces of the destruction wrought in 480 and 479 BCE by the invading Persian army during the Greco-Persian Wars.37 This brief comparison of Persians to the City Laments also stresses both the singular depiction of land that is prevented from vocalizing its own destruction in the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur and the absence of the land’s lament from the City Laments generally, despite their depiction of cities and shrines lamenting elsewhere� As in the passages from Persians examined above, moments in Aeschylus’ Seven Against Thebes and Agamemnon that depict cities or structures lamenting their own destruction also reveal a tenuous boundary between these entities and the people who inhabit them. In Seven Against Thebes, the chorus describes the city’s vocal reactions to besiegement� The chorus first depicts the city groaning at line 247: στένει πόλισμα γῆθεν ὡς κυκλουμένων (“The city groans from the earth, since [we] are surrounded”)� At lines 329–331, the chorus imagines the city responding with a shout to its plunder:

36

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I rely on Jacobs’ identification of the speaker in lines 342–344 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur (in Bachvarova, Dutsch, and Suter [eds�], 2016: 22)� I plan to examine this aspect of Persians more fully in a future publication�

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…βοᾷ δ᾿ ἐκκενουμένα πόλις λαΐδος ὀλλυμένας μειξοθρόου. And the city shouts as it is emptied of booty, [which is] undone and mingled with shrieking� Closer examination of these passages reveals complex interrelations among the city, its inhabitants, built structures, and the land� Line 247 arguably depicts the city’s vocalization in response to its inhabitants’ suffering, if we take the plural present participle κυκλουμένων, forming a one-word genitive absolute, to be passive rather than middle and hence to refer to the besieged inhabitants of the city rather than to selfinterested besiegers� Lines 329–331 also depict the city as a sympathetic, vocal audience to its inhabitants’ sufferings� G� O� Hutchinson comments that the epithets modifying the word for booty, here in the genitive (at line 331, λαΐδος ὀλλυμένας μειξοθρόου), indicate the imagined capture of women following the city’s fall; 38 thus the city shouts in reaction to the shrieking of its female inhabitants (a group that notionally includes the play’s chorus members) as they are captured� Lastly and building on earlier observations, the aural repetition produced by the noun στόνος and the two uses of the denominative verb στένειν in lines 900–901 of this play (διήκει δὲ καὶ πόλιν στόνος· / στένουσι πύργοι, στένει …) suggest that, from the chorus’ perspective, the built structures and land of Thebes join and even imitate the city in bemoaning its besiegement� In a hard-to-excerpt passage from Agamemnon’s second stasimon (lines 699–716), modulation from the wedding song to lament compactly chronicles the ten years between Helen’s arrival in Troy and the city’s downfall:39 Ἰλίῳ δὲ κῆδος ὀρθώνυμον τελεσσίφρων Μῆνις ἤλασεν, τραπέζας ἀτίμωσιν ὑστέρῳ χρόνῳ καὶ ξυνεστίου Διὸς

38

39

[ἀντ. α.]

700

1985: 97, nn� 330–331� Nooter suggests that the chorus members envision their own rape in this passage, along with their city’s destruction (2017: 66–67)� Fraenkel notes that lines 555 and following of Prometheus Bound and lines 915 and following of Euripides’ Alcestis also utilize such a modulation from wedding song to dirge (1950: 336, n� 710)�

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions 443

πρασσομένα τὸ νυμφότι705 μον μέλος ἐκφάτως τίοντας, ὑμέναιον, ὃς τότ’ ἐπέρρεπε γαμβροῖσιν ἀείδειν. μεταμανθάνουσα δ’ ὕμνον Πριάμου πόλις γεραιὰ 710 πολύθρηνον μέγα που στένει, κικλήσκουσα Πάριν τὸν αἰνόλεκτρον † παμπρόσθη πολύθρηνον αἰῶν’ ἀμφὶ πολιτᾶν † 715 μέλεον αἷμ’ ἀνατλᾶσα. For Ilium, Wrath, working her will, drove the grief/marriage bond, rightly-named, avenging dishonor of the table and of Zeus at the hearth in a later time on those loudly honoring the bride-celebrating tune, a wedding song, which at that time it fell to the in-laws to sing� But the aged city of Priam, as she learns a song of much lamentation afterwards moans greatly I suppose, calling Paris the dreadfully-bedded man, since she has endured an all-destroying age of much lamentation for the sake of the horrible bloodshed of citizens�40 In the first part of the antistrophe, the wedding song is explicitly performed by human singers, namely Helen’s new in-laws (at line 708, γαμβροῖσιν). In the second part of the antistrophe, the city of Priam learns a song of much lamentation (in lines 709–711, ὕμνον… πολύθρηνον) and endures an age of much lamentation over its citizens’ bloodshed (in lines 714–716, πολύθρηνον αἰῶν’… ἀνατλᾶσα). In response to learning and enduring lamentation, the city is vividly personified; it first groans (in line 711, στένει) and then calls Paris “dreadfully-bedded” (in line 712, Πάριν τὸν αἰνόλεκτρον).41 The producer of all this lamentation, however, is not further specified. The chorus leaves us to imagine the city as both a performer of the song of much lamentation it learns and as an audience member who endures still more lamentation, ostensibly produced by the human inhabitants of the city, to which it reacts in turn with groaning and name-calling�

40

41

I translate the obelized part of this passage from the Agamemnon with help from the notes in Denniston and Page’s commentary (1957: 133, nn. 713–716). Denniston and Page suggest that the article before αἰνόλεκτρον in line 712 indicates the city’s actual words embedded within this choral ode (1957: 133, n� 713)�

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Conclusion The two sections of this paper have juxtaposed and selectively compared the City Laments to Aeschylean tragedy in moments where cities, lands, or built structures lament their own loss in both traditions� Section one elucidated several common characteristics of the City Laments: the personification or anthropomorphization of cities or shrines (and not just when lamenting their own destruction); the absence or depersonalization of their human occupants via metaphor; and a shared concern with expressing monumental as opposed to human loss� Section two compared moments where physical entities engaged in such self-lament in Aeschylus, arguing that in these moments the boundaries between personified physical entities and their human inhabitants were less clearly demarcated than in the City Laments. Midway through section two I noted the present absence of land vocalizing its own destruction and loss in the City Laments, specifically in the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur and contrasted this with Aeschylus, and with his Persians in particular. I return to Persians and to the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur on my way to a conclusion as they demonstrate the importance of performance context in evaluating how these traditions concern themselves with the loss of monuments� The City Laments’ concern with the loss of monuments is especially evident in the exclusion of personified, environmental loss at line 344 of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur� As mentioned earlier, this passage is the only time the land is described as vocalizing its own loss in the City Laments, and it simultaneously states the impossibility of the land’s further vocal expression because it is overfilled with words and gagged. This exclusion of personified, environmental loss can be read optimistically, however, in light of rebuilt monuments mentioned in prayer or otherwise described at the end of the Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur, The Nippur Lament, and The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur� Monuments, at least, may not be lost forever� By contrast, the land in Aeschylus’ Persians frequently vocalizes its suffering� And yet, as suggested above, this particular feature of Persians may actually be a response to the suffering of the Athenian cityscape, including its monuments, visible from the play’s performance venue in 472 BCE Athens� Our evidence for the putative performance context of the City Laments can further illuminate the features this paper has highlighted through comparison with Aeschylus’ tragedies� M� W� Green suggests that the prayers at the end of the City Laments describe this context: a

Comparing laments for the fallen city in the ancient Near Eastern and Greek traditions 445

celebration of a city’s monuments being rebuilt�42 As this paper has shown, the City Laments are focused on the unique roles of cities or shrines in commemorating the loss of monuments, apart from their human inhabitants or the land on which they are built. When seemingly similar examples of personification in Aeschylus are pressed, lamenting cities, structures, and lands turn out to be thoroughly entangled with their human inhabitants� The achievement of the City Laments that this comparison reveals—the depiction of a city or shrine as a vocal repository for the lament of other cities and shrines, distinguished by such articulation from its human inhabitants and the land it occupies—is particularly apposite to the celebration of a rebuilt city or shrine, but is by no means fully explained.43

Bibliography Auerbach, E�, 1953: Mimesis: the representation of reality in Western literature� Translated by W. R. Trask. Princeton. Bachvarova, M. R. / Dutsch, D. / Suter, A. (eds.) 2016: The Fall of Cities in the Mediterranean: Commemoration in Literature, Folk-Song, and Liturgy� Cambridge / New York� Bachvarova, M. R., 2008: “Sumerian Gala Priests and Eastern Mediterranean Returning Gods: Tragic Lamentation in Cross-Cultural Perspective”. In A. Suter (ed�): Lament: studies in the ancient Mediterranean and beyond� New York, 18–52� Broadhead, H� D�, 1960: The Persae of Aeschylus. Edited with introduction, critical notes and commentary� Cambridge� Brown, W. P. (ed.) 2014: The Oxford handbook of the Psalms� New York� Cohen, M� E�, 1988: The Canonical Lamentations of Ancient Mesopotamia� 2 Vols. Potomac. Cooper, J� S� 1983: The Curse of Agade� Baltimore/London� —— 2006: “Genre, Gender, and the Sumerian Lamentation”� Journal of Cuneiform Studies 58, 39–47� Denniston, J. D. / Page, D., 1957: Aeschylus Agamemnon. Oxford.

42 43

See note five above. I would like to thank Martin Lang for initial bibliographic recommendations and Sebastian Fink for further bibliographic recommendations and improving comments on an earlier draft of this paper� Finally, I wish to thank the conference organizers and audience at the Finnish Institute in the Middle East and American University of Beirut for their helpful and encouraging feedback� All errors, of course, fully remain my own�

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Dobbs-Allsopp, F� W�, 1993: Weep, O daughter of Zion: a Study of the City-Lament Genre in the Hebrew Bible. Rome. —— 2000: “Darwinism, Genre Theory, and City Laments”� Journal of the American Oriental Society 120, 625–630� Fink, S., 2016: “Battle and War in the Royal Self-Representation of the Ur III Period”. In T. R. Kämmerer / M. Kõiv / V. Sazonov (eds.): Kings, Gods and People: Establishing Monarchies in the Ancient World� Münster, 109-134� Fraenkel, E�, 1950: Aeschylus Agamemnon. 3 Vols. Oxford. Gabbay, U., 2014: Pacifying the Hearts of the Gods: Sumerian Emesal Prayers of the First Millenium BC� Heidelberger Emesal-Studien 1� Wiesbaden� Garvie, A� F�, 2009: Aeschylus Persae with introduction and commentary. Oxford / New York� Green, M� W�, 1975: Eridu in Sumerian Literature. Ph.D. Dissertation. University of Chicago� —— 1978: “The Eridu Lament”� Journal of Cuneiform Studies 30, 127–167� Haubold, J�, 2013: Greece and Mesopotamia: dialogues in literature� New York� Hutchinson, G� O�, 1985: Aeschylus Septem Contra Thebas. Edited with introduction and commentary. Oxford. Jagersma, A� H�, 2010: A descriptive grammar of Sumerian. Ph.D. Dissertation. Leiden� Liddell, H. G. / Scott R., 1996: A Greek-English lexicon. Ninth edition. Oxford. Metcalf, C�, 2015: The gods rich in praise: early Greek and Mesopotamian religious poetry. Oxford. Michalowski, P., 1989: The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur� Winona Lake� Nooter, S�, 2017: The Mortal Voice in the Tragedies of Aeschylus� Cambridge / New York� Page, D., 1972: Aeschyli Septem Quae Supersunt Tragoedias. Oxford. Petter, D. L., 2011: The Book of Ezekiel and Mesopotamian City Laments� Fribourg / Göttingen� Samet, N�, 2014: The Lamentation over the Destruction of Ur� Winona Lake� Schretter, M� K�, 1990: Emesal-Studien: Sprach- und literaturgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zur sogenannten Frauensprache des Sumerischen. Innsbrucker Beiträge zur Kulturwissenschaft 69. Innsbruck. Thomsen, M�-L�, 1984: The Sumerian language: an introduction to its history and grammatical structure� Copenhagen� Tinney, S�, 1996: The Nippur Lament: Royal Rhetoric and Divine Legitimation in the Reign of Išme-Dagon of Isin (1953–1935 B.C.). Philadelphia. West, M� L�, 1997: The east face of Helicon: west Asiatic elements in Greek poetry and myth. Oxford / New York.

A Comparison of Dissimilarity: Lunar Eclipses in the Enuma Anu Enlil and the Malhama of Daniel Selim Ferruh Adalı

The Question of Transmission: Understanding Textual Agreements and Similarities The present study is part of a continued effort to understand the relation between the traditional celestial omens, standardized in the series Enūma Anu Enlil (EAE) at the very least since the late-eighth century BC, and another tradition represented by a range of manuscripts dating to parts of the Medieval Age with a presumed origin in at least the Late Antiquity, venerated as malhama-texts of meteorological and divinatory value, and attributed to the Prophet Daniel of the Hebrew Bible.1 The meteorological malhama tradition attributed to Daniel has a bewildering diffusion among Arabic, Persian and Turkish scribes who engaged in these malhama-texts and a range of other divinatory texts. The malhama tradition of Daniel has even been recorded in active usage as late as the 1980s in Sivas, in parts of rural central Turkey�2 My initial study compared the solar

1

2

The present study is based on my presentation given at Melammu Symposium 11 “Evidence Combined – Western and Eastern Sources in Dialogue” on April 5th, 2017. I thank the organizers for accepting my paper for presentation. I am very grateful to Andreas Winkler, Mathieu Ossendrijver, Marvin Schreiber, and Natalie Naomi May for feedback and bibliographical support� The responsibility for the present content belongs to the author alone. For basic information of the EAE and its textual history, see Koch, 2015: 147–196� For Daniel’s malhama tradition, comprehensive treatments comparing the numerous Arabic, Persian and Turkish manuscripts are lacking at present. Many manuscripts are yet to be edited and others identified. Provisionally, one may consult Fodor, 1974; Boyraz, 2006; Alkhaffaf, 2017� Turan, 1998; Boyraz, 2006: 27–28, 56, 304–429; Gür, 2012�

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eclipse omens mentioned in these two textual traditions.3 I followed the available cuneiform textual record for the pertinent section of the EAE series from a record of solar eclipse omens originally copied in Susa�4 As for the medieval malhama tradition, I used two texts. One is the best preserved Arabic malhama text found by A. Fodor in Najaf (dubbed here as “Najaf”)�5 The other is the earliest dated Turkish translation of Abu’l Fazl Hubaysh bin Ibrahim et-Tiflisî’s Persian malhama, translated into Persian from an early Arabic text (dubbed here as “Abu’l Fazl”).6 Abu’l Fazl’s malhama was dedicated to the Seljuk Sultan Kılıçarslan II (r. 1155– 1192)�7 This comparison yielded textual agreements mentioning solar eclipse omen apodoses repeated across the 12 months of the lunar calendar (the Babylonian and the Arabic-based lunar months respectively)—despite some gaps in information due to the state of the present evidence� The chart below presents the most obvious similarities:8

The First Month

The Second Month

3 4 5

6

7 8

Enuma Anu Enlil (EAE)

Malhama

Death of king and rebellion, rising prices (implied by the value decrease of the kurru – a dry capacity measure) King will convey enmity against king

Kings perish and riot, rising prices (Najaf)

Evil will increase among the kings (Najaf)

Adalı, 2016. For this manuscript, see Rutz, 2006: 77–82. Fodor, 1974: 97–159. I follow Fodor’s translation for the Najaf text throughout this study� As part of his master’s thesis, Ebrahim Salim Alkhaffaf has prepared an updated edition with additional Arabic manuscripts (Khaffaf, 2017). I am grateful to Mr. Alkhaffaf for sharing a copy for his work before its publication� This work will hopefully be published in the near future� The Turkish manuscript (Süleymaniye Library, Ayasofya Section, No� 2705) dates to 1563. It is edited in Boyraz, 2006: 276–302 (in 35 folios). The Turkish manuscripts otherwise contain now unattested content going back to Arabic originals and earlier Persian translations of Arabic texts. This is because medieval Turkish scribes had access to more manuscripts of Arabic textual traditions than currently available (Adalı, 2016: 18). Boyraz, 2006: 27–28� The chart summarizes the information provided with explanations and references in Adalı, 2016: 19–27 wherein one may also see discussions of more conjectural similarities omitted here for the sake of clarity�

Lunar Eclipses in the Enuma Anu Enlil and the Malhama of Daniel

The Third Month

King will convey enmity against king; the death of the king of Akkad; Akkad (west?) and Gutium (east) mentioned;9 rain and water are scarce; Enlil confuses the land’s extispicies

The Fourth Month

Problems described for Amurru (the “west”, includes Syria), Akkad and Elam (an eastern land);

The Fifth Month

Devastation of straw and herd (this month is very incomplete in the available cuneiform manuscript) Military campaigns in the land; refugees

The Sixth Month

The Seventh Month

The Eighth Month

9

10

449

Conflict will grow among the kings (Najaf); predicted death of the Byzantine king (Najaf); West and East mentioned (Najaf); drought in the eastern lands Maçin and Māzenderān10 as well as the West (Maġrib) (Abu’l Fazl); the emergence of fitne (division and strife) in the land (Abu’l Fazl) Problems described for Syria, “the land of the Coast”, and the “East” (Najaf); Favourable provisions for Rome (“west”) and Persia (“east”) (Abu’l Fazl) Drought (Abu’l Fazl)

Wars frequent among the people (Najaf); panic in the land (Abu’l Fazl) Famine; eclipse of the kings Epidemic (Najaf); country of Akkad and Amurru of Arabs attacked and some Byzantines killed in Egypt (Najaf); death of a great king or person and general disorder in the land (Abu’l Fazl) Not available for comparison

Strictly speaking, Amurru/Martu is “west” in the Babylonian celestial omen tradition but Akkad could represent the north or the south (Rochberg–Halton, 1988: 53). Maçin: An eastern land referring to the deserts and mountainous areas southeast of the Tarım Basin. Māzenderān: A northern area of Iran on the coast of the Caspian Sea (Boyraz, 2006: 199)�

Selim Ferruh Adalı

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The Ninth Month

The Tenth Month

The Eleventh Month

Eclipse of the [king?]; destructive wind (meaning military destruction); Death of the kings of Elam (“east”) and Amurru (“west”);

IDIM (“important person”) in palace intrigue; king mentioned but context lost, possibly not in favour of the king

King forced to exile (Abu’l Fazl); war and destruction (Najaf, Abu’l Fazl) A king comes to Persian and submits to the Persian king (“east”), plotting and murder among the Romans and the Franks (“west”) (Abu’l Fazl) Great persons (ulu kişiler) mentioned throughout the malhama texts (e.g., Abu’l Fazl’s fourth, sixth, seventh, ninth months), if not in this particular month; death of king (Abu’l Fazl)

The Twelfth Month Not available for comparison

Thematic similarities between EAE and the malhama genre have long being recognized but they could not be taken further because the similarities were “short of textual agreements”.11 Newly available data from the series EAE as well as the new Turkish malhama manuscripts attributed to the Prophet Daniel have enabled the detection of textual agreements between the two traditions as argued in Adalı, 2016. My preliminary evaluation of the textual agreements was to posit a transmission (albeit a diffused one where divergent textual traditions emerged) of the EAE tradition in antiquity, assuming an early Greek appropriation of EAE celestial omen traditions from Mesopotamia, with the Greek tradition later taken over by other communities, especially the Syriac Christian communities— alternatively, the Aramaic tradition directly inherited the omen tradition in Mesopotamia�12 My main scenario is also inspired by the mention of Greek names in several other malhama texts: a certain “Andronicus”—I argue Andronicus of Rhodes (c. 60 BC)—and Claudius Ptolemaios (c. 100–170) as well as the tendency of Syriac Christian literature to engage Greek texts— though certainly one can argue these were later additions in the malhama

11 12

Fodor, 1974: 85� Adalı, 2016: 27–29.

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451

tradition�13 The transmission from Syriac (and/or Greek) to Arabic in the Abbasid period and the translation movement or later is easier to posit in light of several indicators in the Najaf edition already discussed in Fodor, 1974 (and note the final heading of the Najaf text: “On the Beginning of the Festival of the Cross”). Ptolemaios’s Tetrabiblios contains comparable references to meteorological omens� Enūma Anu Enlil omens in later form with the zodiac have been detected in Sfar Malwašia, the Mandean Book of the Zodiac�14 The Zodiac signs and their impact is also the topic of the pseudoepigraphical “The Treaties of Shem”, perhaps with a second century AD date�15 There is also evidence that EAE lunar eclipse omens were edited during the period of the Byzantine Emperor Justinian around the late 5th and the 6 th centuries AD�16 Furthermore, the transmission involved a phase in Egypt� A demotic papyrus (31222 Egyptian Museum of Cairo) shows resemblance to the malhama texts in its omen description and mentions the moon in the area of a zodiac sign�17 While it may be surmised that Akkadian omens had been circulating in Egypt at least since the use of cuneiform at the end of the second millennium BC, the earliest reference to a lunar eclipse with an event apodosis is found in an 8th century BC text dubbed the Chronicle of Prince Osorkon.18 A Demotic papyrus dating to the late 2nd and/or the early 3rd century AD, but with content indicating that it dates back to the late 6th or the early 5th century BC, contains astrological omens before the time of the adoption of the Zodiac signs which Egypt had imported in the 3rd century BC. It contains solar and lunar eclipses and accompanying apodoses with events concerning a country and its rulers and not individuals—very much like the EAE and possibly with some influence from Mesopotamia.19 Demotic texts (from Dynasty 26 onwards) and Greek translations of Egyptian divination texts should also be taken into consideration for future research into the elements of a presumed transmission of the malhama� The frequent references to the Nile in the malhama–texts may point to Egyptian–Hellenistic or later Roman period

13 14 15 16

17 18 19

Adalı, 2016: 28. Rochberg, 1999. Atkinson, 2006� Misiewicz, 2016� Both Judaism and Christianity also interacted with astrological treatieses; Stuckrad, 2000� Chalyan–Daffner, 2013: 110–111� Winkler 2016: 270, fn� 80� Parker 1959.

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connections� Strictly speaking, the references to the Nile could have been added at any time and do not necessarily presuppose a time of origin in antiquity� Nonetheless, the role of Egypt in the transmission of the malhama tradition needs to be investigated� It is in principle possible that the textual agreements between the EAE and the malhama are coincidental. It may alternatively be argued, for example, that these texts, drawing their material from political and military events in the socio-economic settings of agricultural societies, posited similar scenarios of war, famine, peace and the fortunes of kings�20 Similar scenarios can be developed by arguing for the existence of oral and supplementary textual transmissions of the omens in different cultures. It is at this point that the textual agreements of the solar eclipse omens in a sequence of 12 months are therefore of great significance. They may point to textual transmission, despite mutations throughout the ages. It may be that by the chance of finding a few new manuscripts (a single cuneiform copy preserving the pertinent part of the EAE, the newly published Turkish malhama) one can observe the tip of an iceberg—otherwise not visible— with similarly-phrased omens which continue meteorological traditions in the Near East from times when oral traditions were recorded by scribes of different eras, be they Babylonian, Assyrian, Syriac, Arab or Turkish� The textual agreements and similarities concerning the solar eclipse omens do strongly favour the hypothesis that meteorological traditions were not only orally but also textually transmitted. It is this hypothesis of textual transmission that I will pursue in several studies following the present one. If further similarities can be found across the different tablets of the EAE and various manuscripts of the malhama-genre, than the accumulated data may confirm or falsify this hypothesis. If textual transmission is confirmed, then its conditions, implications and its relation to oral transmission can be discussed at length� At the present point of study, I limit my comparison to the Najaf and Abu’l Fazl manuscripts mentioned above� Two plausible objections come to mind as to this limited choice of scope: other malhama-texts should have been added to the comparison; and the comparison should cover all possible areas of the EAE, not just one category like solar eclipse omens (Adalı, 2016) or lunar eclipse omens (the present study). Indeed, if all available EAE and malhama material could be compared in one single

20

Adalı 2016: 27.

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study, that would be ideal. In my view, it is too early for such a study. Many malhama manuscripts in Arabic, Persian and Turkish are yet to be identified in archives and many even now identified remain unedited. Their translations are not available for comparison� The presently available manuscripts are not uniform� There is at present no evidence for the standardization of malhama texts, despite similar contact. Comparisons between numerous manuscripts are needed to confirm the comparisons. As the comparisons accumulate, one can try to see if there are similar patterns and content� One must also check for content, especially in the malhama-texts, so that one can detect—where possible—additions to the meteorological text after its reception in non-cuneiform environments and traditions� Each manuscript therefore needs to be studied critically� The historical background to these texts and their medieval Sitz im Leben must also be appreciated in depth�21 Furthermore, Arabic versions of the malhama tradition were probably translated into languages other than those hitherto mentioned, although I have not yet come across such texts. I mention this because there are other types of texts attributed to the Prophet Daniel in Latin or Coptic, for example.22 Levi ben Gershon’s (Gersonides, 1288–1344) works in Hebrew were translated into Latin and played a key role in the transmission of the Arabic scholarship and astronomy to the West�23 Gersonides is also known to have used Persian tradition and the book of Daniel in his predictions as an astrologer� His most famous treatise is called Milḥamot ha-Šem (“The Battles of the Lord”)�24 The term milḥamot recalls the malhama, but this specific work is another type of philosophical and astronomical work. Recent discoveries of Syriac astrological works and manuscripts of Spar-Sammāné (Book of Medicines) must also be monitored since they interact closely with similar texts attributed to Daniel in Arabic tradition.25 In light of these factors, much ground work needs to be done in order to provide the appropriate background and intertextuality of the malhama-texts in their own settings. It is also important to try to collect borrowings of Mesopotamian omens in

21 22

23 24

25

E�g� Chalyan–Daffner, 2013: 53–145� E�g� The dreambook Somniale Danielis (Cappozo, 2012), The Coptic Apocalypse of Daniel (Suerman, 1983)� Thorndike, 1934; Goldstein / Pingree, 1990; Goldstein, 1991; I am indebted to Natalie Naomi May for drawing my attention to Gersonides and for bibliography� Al-Jeloo, 2012: 470�

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other cultures� Traces of EAE, šumma ālu, šumma izbu omens have been found in Vedic and several Sanskrit omen collections; this is explained as part of the Achaemenid Empire’s occupation of the Indus Valley and the resulting interactions�26 The impact of the Achaemenid Empire and other political developments in the dissemination and appropriation of Babylonian omen literature also needs careful preparation in the near future�27 Another critical issue is that, if the initial comparisons appear sufficiently supportive of the present hypothesis, then one also needs to follow them with more specific lexical, thematic and syntactic comparisons before proceeding further� For all these reasons and more, one single, comprehensive study of all the omens in these texts would constitute a great tome and for me this is a long-term goal which should not be rushed� I prefer to try to explore aspects of this question in several focused studies. This also supports an open and critical approach to my own hypothesis in the process, identifying not only evidence in favour of the hypothesis but indications to the contrary when available� The Lunar Eclipses: A Comparison of Dissimilarity? In the hope of testing my hypothesis, or at least using it as an interpretive tool, I tried to delineate references to lunar eclipses and their apodoses. EAE Tablets 15–22 contain the lunar eclipse and occultation omina of the Babylonian tradition�28 I focused on the lunar eclipse omen apodoses in the EAE and those provided in the malhama-texts of Najaf and Abu’l Fazl. I was hoping that the comparison would proceed with a listing of the respective lunar eclipse omens in each respective malhama-text and their sections. The Najaf text has sections entitled “Teaching on the Eclipse of the Moon”,29 “On the Eclipse of the Moon in the signs of the Zodiac”,30 and “On the Eclipse of the Moon in the Months”�31 I immediately had to omit the section “On the Eclipse of the Moon in the signs of the Zodiac” from the comparison because I could not yet come across cuneiform

26 27 28 29 30 31

Rochberg–Halton, 1988: 31–32. Cf. Rochberg–Halton, 1988: 30–35. Rochberg–Halton, 1988: 67–272; Fincke, 2016. Fodor, 1974: 109–111� Fodor, 1974: 127–128� Fodor, 1974: 128–129�

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texts reserved for lunar eclipse omens with the Zodiac signs.32 I therefore sought to compare portions of the EAE with Najaf’s other two sections, “Teaching on the Eclipse of the Moon” and “On the Eclipse of the Moon in the Months”. The Turkish translation of Abu’l Fazl’s text provides lunar eclipse omens for each lunar month only in one category, starting with the protasis phrase (Eger) ay tuṭıla/tuṭulsa “(if) the Moon is eclipsed”�33 My comparison does not yield textual agreements. Normally, this would be the end of the story. However, the textual agreement of Najaf and Abu’l Fazl’s text in the area of solar eclipses (Adalı, 2016) has methodological implications in terms of analysing evidence and testing a hypothesis� While it may be assumed that only solar eclipses were transmitted and no other astro-meteorological phenomena, it is more likely that, if one assumes a transmission of solar phenomena, there was also a transmission of lunar phenomena, amongst others. If by great fortune the textual transmission of solar eclipses is visible now, as discussed in Adalı, 2016, then it may be that in other areas the change over centuries was such that the transmission across cultures has rendered the omens in the respective texts barely recognizable when compared. Therefore, one faces what I may try to define as the challenge of comparing dissimilarities. We are used to comparing similarities, but is there a way we can test the textual transmission hypothesis with dissimilar texts? I propose that if there is any possibility that the lunar eclipses were transmitted from the times of EAE to the period of Islamic scholarship, there should still be interesting patterns and peculiarities. However conjectural, some explanation of these patterns and unique features should be available through examination of the malhama-texts’ mentions of lunar eclipses, explanations that may make better sense with an assumption of Babylonian origin and with a comparison with lunar eclipses in EAE. It is now to such comparisons of dissimilarity that I turn.

32

33

The Zodiac was a Babylonian invention attested since the 5th century BC and there are compilation texts combining EAE omens with the Zodiac signs and deriving interpretations from the planet’s position in a given zodiac sign; Rochberg–Halton, 1984; Hunger, 2014 (BM 47497); Koch, 2015: 202–205. In later Babylonian astronomy and astrology, the zodiacal position of the planet was among several criteria when observing or computing the position and condition of the planets and stars; Rochberg, 1998: 40–41. This is not to say that there is nothing to follow up on this, but at present I will concentrate on other material. I follow the Old Turkish edition in Boyraz, 2006: 277–302. The English translations are my own. I provide the Old Turkish text in case the reader wants to check my translation.

Selim Ferruh Adalı

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The Times of Watch and Disgressing Protasis Elements: Fusion in Transmission? The EAE had several elements of protasis in the case of observing a lunar eclipse: the date of the occurrence (month, day or periodicity), time and duration (watch, duration, rising and setting eclipses), description of eclipse appearance (magnitude, direction of motion of eclipse shadow, colour), and other phenomena associated with eclipses (winds, meteorological factors such as clouds, rain, thunder and lightning, earthquakes and mudslides, and planets and stars visible during the eclipse)�34 These elements are used strictly when classifying omens in the EAE series� Najaf, on the other hand, for the most part reflects one of these elements—the times of watch—but not in every case. In some cases Najaf digresses from this element and inserts another one, whereas at other times it omits the mention of any particular element� To demonstrate this: EAE’s division of the times of watch for observing the lunar eclipses in EAE compares with the months of Najaf (from the section “On the Eclipse of the Moon in the Months”) as follows:35 EAE Najaf, The First Month The Second Month The Third Month The Fourth Month The Fifth Month The Sixth Month The Seventh Month The Eighth Month The Ninth Month The Tenth Month The Eleventh Month The Twelfth Month

34 35

barārītu “evening watch” “when it rises”

qablītu “middle watch” “midnight”

šat urri morning watch n/a

“first night” “nightfall” “first night” “nightfall” “during rising” “nightfall” “nightfall” “nightfall” n/a “nightfall”

“midnight” “midnight” “midnight” “midnight” “midnight” n/a “midnight” “midnight” n/a “midnight”

n/a “daybreak” “daybreak” “daybreak” “daybreak” n/a n/a n/a n/a n/a

“nightfall”

“midnight”

n/a

Rochberg–Halton, 1988: 36. Rochberg–Halton, 1988: 44; Fodor, 1974: 128–129.

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The comparable terms of the times of watch in EAE and Najaf respectively are: barārītu “evening watch” (EAE), “nightfall” (Najaf); qablītu “middle watch” (EAE), “midnight” (Najaf); šat urri “morning watch” (EAE), “daybreak” (Najaf). Najaf’s first digression “when it rises” (month 1) and “during rising” (month 6) are similar� These compare with “the Moon which rises” (uṣi) under certain conditions in EAE�36 However, in Najaf, the expressions “when it rises” and “during rising” seem to function almost like a time of watch and, in my view, it is explained more simply as a synonym for “nightfall”. Najaf’s other digression is the expression “first night” (months 2 and 4). This looks like the protasis element of day, and EAE contains many lunar eclipses and other omens classified in terms of the day of the month in which they appear� Traditionally accepted days for an eclipse in EAE are days 14–16 and 20–21, whereas only the 29th non-canonical (aḫû) tablet has days for an eclipse preceding day 14� For example, EAE 17 Part II has day 1 as one of the possible days of an eclipse�37 Such a unique feature may have been transmitted, as well as the tradition of days 14–16 and 20–21 as expressed by month 10 in Najaf’s section “On the Eclipse of the Moon in the Months” with the expression “(The month of) Second Kanun: If the Moon is eclipsed in it towards its middle or at its end”�38 I propose that different protasis elements of Babylonian origin were simplified during textual transmission. Some elements were fused into the scheme of the times of watch exemplified in Najaf, and others were retained, even if they were sometimes seemingly vague in usage� A Survival of the God Erra? Month 1 for Najaf, “On the Eclipse of the Moon in the Months”:39 The month of Nisan: If the Moon is eclipsed in it when it rises there will be misfortune in the land of Persia, snow will be abundant in that year and destruction will increase, there will be fertility and most of the people will die of smallpox. If it is eclipsed at midnight and its colour is similar to blood, there will be death and misfortune in the country; rain will be scarce

36 37

38 39

Rochberg–Halton, 1988: 47–48. Rochberg–Halton, 1988: 38–39. The pertinent apodosis reads: “If (at anytime) from the 1st to the 30th day an eclipse occurs…”; Fincke, 2016: 10� Fodor, 1974: 129� Fodor, 1974: 128�

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in that year, the existing crop will abound in seed-produce; sparrows and wild-asses will multiply� Najaf (“On the Eclipse of the Moon in the Months”) mentions eclipses under two different times of watch. The first is when it rises and the second is at midnight. EAE 17 (Part II, Section I.1–3) exemplifies different apodoses in imperfectly corresponding times of watch: Najaf’s “when it rises”, which compares with EAE’s “evening watch” and Najaf’s “midnight” with “middle watch”:40 [If] an eclipse occurs in Nisannu in the evening watch, there will be famine and brother will consume his brother, variant: Erra (=plague) will consume� If an eclipse occurs in Nisannu in the middle watch, the harvest of the land will not thrive, variant: there will be famine� The reference to plague by Erra compares with the reference to smallpox in the first time of watch mentioned in Najaf’s month 1, quoted in full above� The second time of watch in both Najaf and EAE are associated with famine and scarcity� What is the origin of the woman commander? Month 1 of Najaf (another section, “Teaching on the Eclipse of the Moon”) mentions a “foreign woman” who attacks “the commander of Egypt”:41 If the Moon is eclipsed in Nisan then the king will besiege a town, and falsehood will increase among the people; the voice of the ignorant and followers of evil will ring out; there will be jaundice [or blight] and death in the Tishrins and a foreign woman will attack the commander of Egypt� But God knows best! I am reminded of the apodosis “someone (ŠU) will conquer (the city, king and his people)” common in EAE�42 However, this alone does not explain this peculiar omen in the malhama� Why is a “foreign woman” mentioned in the Najaf manuscript? This peculiar description may owe something to the phase of the text in Egypt.43 Some possible indicators can be proposed—but I am not suggesting at present any direct link. An

40 41 42 43

Rochberg–Halton, 1988: 123. Fodor, 1974: 109� Rochberg–Halton, 1988: 124, 125. I am grateful to Egyptologist Andreas Winkler who has drawn my attention to the Ancient Egyptian textual record and possible comparanda with the theme of foreign women against a commander of Egypt. Winkler and I aim to pursue this point in a future study.

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Egyptian tradition about women against Egyptians may be indicated from several sources� An ostracon (CG 25125) in the Egyptian Museum of Cario depicts a woman standing on a chariot, fighting a man on a chariot, with them shooting arrows at each other� The interpretation of this depiction is not exactly clear but it dates to the Late New Kingdom (Dynasty 20) in the 12th and 11th centuries BC and the woman figure may refer to a goddess or a queen�44 An early Roman period demotic papyrus refers to a dual of magic between Imhotep and an “Asiatic” sorceress with the Egyptian name Seshemnefertem�45 Most striking is the Story of Sarpot� This is a demotic story (preserved on Roman period papyri) which refers to a Prince of Egypt named Petekhons who enters, or is about to enter, the “Land of the Women” somewhere between “Syria” (h̠ r) and India (hntw) and led by a certain Sarpot (srpt.[t]), a foreign name associated by the Egyptians with the Semitic word for “lotus”, designated the “female pharaoh” (pr-‘ȝ.t)�46 As for the term “commander of Egypt”, it recalls the Ancient Egyptian term wr “great, mighty” which can be used to denote the king—this specific proposal remains tentative.47 For example, an ostracon from Thebes refers to the “great” (wr, i�e�, king) of Karkemish�48 Why Three Years? Month 3 for Najaf, “Teaching on the Eclipse of the Moon” has an interesting reference to “three years” of war:49 If the Moon is eclipsed in Haziran injustice will prevail in that year, and there will be war for three years between the Byzantines and the Arabs� Fish and birds will be abundant, but salt will be less in that year� Certainly one may find an actual three-year war in Byzantine-Arab history. However, I propose that the three years may be metaphorical and this image may owe something to Babylonian origins� At least this can be one interpretive option according to the hypothesis of textual transmission.

44 45 46 47

48 49

Hoffmann, 2008: 52–53� Hoffmann, 2008: 53–54� Hoffmann, 2008: 54–57� Personal communication by Andreas Winkler as a provisional idea during the conference� This point and what the usage behind the malhama’s expression “commander of Egypt” will be discussed by Winkler and I in a future study. De Pietri, 2016: 11. Fodor, 1974: 109�

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A lunar eclipse omen from EAE 16 (Source E) has a different kind of “three years”:50 If an eclipse occurs on the 14th [of Simānu]: A famous king will die; when the King’s death … in Akkad… destruction of the people; after the harvest will come the rains in the sky (and) the floods in the source; Adad will trample; for three years there will be floods of the dry land; the crops of the land will not thrive; the economy will diminish; the great country will go to the small country for sustenance; the people of that land will sell their children for money and … I am not suggesting any direct link between this lunar eclipse omen of EAE and the Najaf text quoted above. However, a similar omen may have changed over time, leaving tiny unique features such as the reference to “three years”� The EAE quoted immediately above mentions two “lands” (“great country” and “small country”) whereas the Najaf text mentions the Byzantines and the Arabs� The other EAE apodoses compare with the other section of Najaf for the same month as well as Abu’l Fazl’s text— but the latter two are were ornamented (common themes: destruction of and unrest among the people, flood and rain—but the king lives in the malhama-texts). Najaf, “On the Eclipse of the Moon in the Months”:51 The month of Haziran: If the Moon is eclipsed in it at nightfall there will be disagreement among the people in that year, punishment will afflict them at the hand of their king, [there will be] heavy fighting, rains and locusts will be frequent in a few places in the land. If it is eclipsed at midnight pain will increase among the women and they will miscarry what is in their wombs and there will be death among [people] other than they. If this is eclipsed at daybreak rains will increase and there will be violent fighting between the people of Egypt and their king and it will be lasting, there will be rain but it will not damage anything, the existing crop will improve, the people will make peace with their king and they will [be compelled] to remain in the condition in which they will live for four months� Abu’l Fazl: Eger ay tuṭulsa ḳızlar ölümi ziyāde ola ve dāne ve ot bol ola. Tācir ḳavminde menfa‘at az ola ve ziyān çoḳ ola (Boyraz, 2006: 282 [folio 9b])�

50 51

Rochberg–Halton, 1988: 93. Fodor, 1974: 128�

Lunar Eclipses in the Enuma Anu Enlil and the Malhama of Daniel

461

If the Moon is eclipsed the death of “daughters” (ḳızlar) (or: out of scarcity[?])52 will be excessive and grain and grass will be abundant. Merchant people will have little profit and much loss. A Dynamic Conclusion The comparison and analyses hitherto provided could be seen as the result of coincidental similarities in texts borne out of the scribes’ need to abstract from celestial, meteorological phenomena and political, economic events in similar ways� This possibility also needs to be tested after a systematic collection of stock expressions in both traditions is provided—this is on my research agenda. One may posit that these texts have a tendency to contain mostly negative omens, supporting this hypothesis which can exclude textual transmission and invoke independent conditions for the development of similar human expressions of divination. It would be tautological to pick and choose similar omens from any part of the EAE for this or the transmission hypothesis. I submit that the comparison of dissimilarity provided in the present study has yielded demonstrative examples which may support specifically a hypothesis of (textual?) transmission. Another important contribution of the present study, especially demonstrated by the reference to the “foreign woman” attacking the “commander of Egypt”, is to point to the importance of Ancient Egyptian material in order to understand the transmission of the malhama� There is more work to be done� The comparison of EAE and the malhama-texts will I hope help test this hypothesis and yield more insight into the dynamics of cultural diffusion from antiquity to the medieval ages and even up to our modern day�

52

The word ḳız can also mean “scarcity” in archaic Turkish (Redhouse 1890: 661). Its plural use here (ḳızlar), however, points to the translation “daughters” which had to be followed here (cf. “boys” in the Najaf text, sixth and seventh months mentioned below) but perhaps there has been a mechanical transmission error for ḳızlıḳ “scarcity” and the first omen could be referring to a form of scarcity like drought and/or famine. Abu’l Fazl’s sixth month mentions ḳızlıḳ “scarcity”.

462

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Bibliography Adalı, S. F., 2016: “The Transmission of Solar Eclipse Omens in Anatolia and the Near East: Textual Agreements between Malhama-Texts and Omens from Enuma Anu Enlil”� Colloquium Anatolicum 15, 14–31� Al-Jeloo, N�, 2012: “Kaldāyūthā: The Spar-Sammāné and the Late Antique Syriac Astrology”. ARAM 24, 457–492. Alkhaffaf, E� S�, 2017: Danyal’in Melhamesi. Tenkitli Metin, Giriş ve Yorum� MA Thesis. İstanbul, Fatih Sultan Mehmet Vakıf Üniversitesi. Atkinson, K�, 2006: “Astrology and History in the Treatie of Shem: Two Astrological Pseudepigrapha and Their Relevance for Understanding the Astrological Dead Sea Scrolls”� The Qumran Chronicle 13, 1–19� Boyraz, Ş., 2006. Fal Kitabı. Melhemeler ve Halk Kültürü. İstanbul: Kitabevi Yayınları� Cappozo, V., 2012: Editions of the Somniale Danielis in Medieval and Humanist Literary Miscellanies. PhD Thesis. Indiana, Indiana University. Chalyan-Daffner, K�, 2013: Natural Disasters in Mamlūk Egypt (1250–1517): Perceptions, Interpretations and Human Responses. PhD Thesis. Heidelberg: Ruperto Carola Heidelberg University, Cluster of Excellence Asia and Europe in a Global Context. De Pietri, M., 2016: “Relationships between Egypt and Karkemish during the 2nd millennium BC: a brief overview”. In E. Foietta / C. Ferrandi / E. Quirico / F� Giusto / M� Mortarini / J� Bruno / L� Somma (eds�): Cultural & Material Contacts in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the International Workshop 1–2 December 2014, Torino. Florence: Apice Libri. Pp. 9–15 Fincke, J� C�, 2016: “Additions to already edited Enūma Anu Enlil (EAE) Tablets, Part IV: The Lunar Eclipse Omens from Tablets 15–19 published by Rochberg-Halton in AfO Beih. 22”. KASKAL. Rivista di storia, ambienti e culture del Vicino Oriente Antico 13, 89–119. Fodor, A., 1974: “Malhamat Daniyal”. In K.-N. Gyula (ed.): The Muslim East: Studies in Honour of Julius Germanus. Budapest: Eötvös Loránd University. Pp. 85–159. Goldstein, B. R., 1991: “Levi ben Gerson’s Astrology in Historical Perspective”. In G. Dahan (ed.): Gersonide en son temps. Louvain: Peeters. Pp. 287–300. Goldstein, B. R. / Pingree, D., 1990: “Levi ben Gerson’s Prognostication for the Conjunction of 1345”. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 80, 1–60� Gür, N., 2012: “Osmanlı Fal Geleneği Bağlamında Yıldıznâme, Falnâme ve Tâliname Metinleri”� Milli Folklor 96, 202–215� Hoffmann, F�, 2008: “Warlike Women in Ancient Egypt”� Cahiers de recherches de l’Institut de Papyrologie et d’Egyptologie de Lille 27, 49–57.

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Hunger, H., 2004: “Stars, Cities, and Predictions”. In C. Burnett / J. P. Hogendijk / K. Plofker / M. Yano / C. Burnett / H. Plofker / Yano (eds.): Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree� Leiden / Boston: Brill. Pp. 16–32. Koch, U. S., 2015: Mesopotamian Divination Texts: Conversing with the Gods: Sources from the First Millennium BCE. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Misiewicz, Z�, 2016: “Mesopotamian Lunar Omens in Justinian’s Constantinople”. In J. M. Steele (ed.): The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient World. Leiden/Boston: Brill. Pp. 350–395. Parker, R. A., 1959: A Vienna Demotic Papyrus on Eclipse- and Lunar-Omina� Providence, R. I.: Brown University Press. Redhouse, J., 1890 [reprinted 1997]: Kitab-ı Maani-i Lehçe� Redhouse Turkish/ Ottoman-English Dictionary. Istanbul: Publication Department of the American Board [reprinted by SEV Matbaacılık ve Yayıncılık Eğitim Ticaret A.Ş.]. Rochberg(-Halton), F., 1984: “New Evidence for the History of Astrology”. Journal of Near Eastern Studies 43, 115–140� — 1988: Aspects of Babylonian Celestial Divination: The Lunar Eclipse Tablets of Enūma Anu Enlil� Archiv für Orientforschung Beiheft 22� Horn� — 1998: “Babylonian Horoscopes”. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 88, i–xi, 1–164. — 1999: “The Babylonian Origins of the Mandaean Book of the Zodiac”. ARAM 11, 237–247� Rutz, M. T., 2006: “Textual Transmission between Babylonia and Susa: A New Solar Omen Compendium”� Journal of Cuneiform Studies 58, 63–96� Stuckrad, K. von, 2000: Das Ringen um die Astrologie. Religionsgeschichtliche Versuche und Vorarbeiten 49. Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter. Suermann, H�, 1983: “Notes concernant l’apocalypse copte de Daniel et la chute des Omayyades”. Parole de l’Orient 11, 329–348. Thorndike, L., 1934: A History of Magic and Experimental Science, Vol. III. New York: Columbia University Press. Turan, F�, 1998: “Halk Osmanlıcası I: Melhameler ve Bir 17. Yüzyıl Melhamesi”. Bir: Türk Dünyası İncelemeleri Dergisi 9/10, 681–705. Winkler, A�, 2016: “Some Astrologers and Their Handbooks in Demotic Egyptian”. In J. M. Steele (ed.): The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient World. Leiden/Boston: Brill. Pp. 245–286.

Jerusalem in the Light of Athens or the Missing Link to the Formation of the Pentateuch Stéphanie Anthonioz According to A. de Pury, at the origin of the patriarchal cycle stood the autonomous legend of Jacob�1 The Jacob cycle is indeed the most developed and maybe the most ancient as the prophet Hosea already knows about it in the viiith century BCE (Hos 12:4–7�13–14)� The prophet is familiar with the following events: the twin pregnancy (Gen 25:21–26), the elder son supplanted (Gen 25:26), the fight with God (Gen 32:23–33), the theophany in Bethel (Gen 28:10-22), the promise of the return (Gen 28:15�21; 31:13), the dubious practice to become rich (Gen 30:28–31:10), the flight to and from Aram (Gen 27:43s; 29:1s) and finally the service and keeping of the sheep in honor of a woman (Gen 29:15–30)� But the knowledge of this tradition is for the prophet opposed to the mosaic tradition and is even the object of a polemic. It may be assumed, therefore, that the northern Jacob cycle was once independent from the other patriarchal traditions as well as from the mosaic tradition, so that the Jacob legend stands as the kernel of the future book of Genesis. Its logic and coherence show all the ingredients of a group’s myth of identity or origin. It indicates the closeness of the relationship between different groups (Esau / Edom, Laban / Aram or the Sichemites) and territorial claims, as well as religious cult centers. It is often admitted that the Priestly writer was first responsible for bringing together these different literary traditions.2 As for the Abraham cycle, the vision of H� Gunkel considering different independent legends (sagenkreis) is generally adopted� These would have successively been brought together by the theme of the promises as well as

1 2

Pury, 2006: 51–72; id�, 2001b: 213–241; id�, 1991: 78–96� Pury, 2010: 163–181. Also Schmid, 2014: 27–60; id�, 2012a: 187–208� See for a different view the works of J. Van Seters who argues for a Yahwist both historian and antiquarian at the time of the exile, for example Van Seters, 1992: 33 and 239.

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itineraries and genealogies�3 Clearly the patriarchal cycle is a genealogical myth of origin whereas the Moses figure serves to build an exodic myth of origin�4 Whereas Jacob is the prototype of a genealogical ancestor, Moses is himself the prototype of a “vocational” ancestor� Abraham is beyond them, an ecumenical figure. He offers the image of a serene Judaism which “has nothing to do with the archaic tribalism of the Jacobian Israel, nor with the exclusive and intransigent vocation of the mosaic Israel, it allies genealogical determination and priestly vocation and thus inscribes Israel at the heart of a Jewish ecumenism or humanistic universalism�”5 The human family lives in a peaceful and diversified world. As a consequence it is common today to claim that at the heart of the Tora / Pentateuch two myths of origin are opposed: the genealogical myth (the story of Abraham and his descent in the land) and the exodic myth (the story of delivery from Egypt under the guidance of Moses, followed by the conquest of the land)�6 These myths represent two conflicting views on identity: the first is genealogical and the second vocational, prophetic and legal� According to the second, identity is not a matter of ascendancy but one of obedience to the law and the land is a promise� Herein lies the whole issue in the final redaction and conciliation of the Tora / Pentateuch.7 If it is clearly impossible today to retrieve the “age of the patriarchs” at the time of the Amorites, the book of Genesis is nevertheless a decisive witness to the political, social, ideological and theological debates at the time of its finalization. As the myth of Abraham came to introduce the mosaic story, the promise of the land was transferred onto the patriarchs8 and the scribes gave pre-eminence to the more familial, clanic and tribal but also fraternal vision of Israel. Interestingly, the connection with the mosaic tradition and the conquest of the land is built on the promise of the land but also on family and clan through the tribal system: the twelve tribes are none other than the sons of Jacob / Israel. Beyond the promise, it is through the tribal system that both myths of origin are intimately and effectively reconciled: the land is conquered, inherited and named after the sons of Israel. Indeed,

3 4 5 6 7

8

Van Seters, 1992: 197–226. Pury, 2006: 51–72; id�, 2001a: 105–114; id�, 2001b: 213–241; id�, 1991: 78–96� Pury, 2001a: 105–114. However the idea is very old as demonstrated by Galling, 1928� Schmid, 2014: 27–60; id�, 2012b: 27–50; id�, 2012a: 187–208; Nogalski / Schmid, 2010; Pury, 2010: 163–181; id�, 2007: 99–128; Gertz, 2006: 73–87� Van Seters, 1992: 239–240; id�, 1972: 448–459�

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Tora identity or Pentateucal identity is a genial alliance of genealogy and law through the inheritance or promise of the land� This alliance of notions has indeed received little study on the part of historians� However, it seems that in a comparative approach this constructed vision is not without echo from the Mediterranean and particularly contemporaneous Athens. It is thus the object of this contribution to propose that the finalization of the Tora / Pentateuch could indeed be very much indebted to classical Athens for its understanding of the land in connection with both genealogy and law. To demonstrate this we will first review the biblical tribal system with its historical and literary inconsistencies (I. The Tribal System). This will lead to a comparison with the Athenian model at the time of Clisthenes (II. The Athenian Model) and its later developments at the time of Pericles (III. Autochthony and Endogamy or how to think Greek when coming back from Babylon!). Indeed, both the historical situation and the ideological developments are not without strong echoes, so we will argue that the scribes in finalizing their Tora / Pentateuch were able to reach a brilliant conciliation not only of different political views and milieux from within their eastern and traditional models, but also from western models as far as Athens� I. The Tribal System The tribal system as described in the biblical text is not without a certain number of discrepancies, so one is led to seriously question and doubt its historicity. Two arguments may be put forward: the first one is historical, the second literary� The system is geographically given in the book of Joshua after the conquest when the land is shared according to lots (Jos 13:15–33; 15:1–17:11; 18:11–19:48). If some still defend an historical vision of the event and would date the text to the time of the unified monarchy,9 the work of N� Lissovsky and N� Na’aman demonstrate that such a position is no longer tenable�10 On the one hand, the book of Joshua cannot be compared with ancient Near Eastern archives as the nature and function of these documents are not the same� On the other hand, analysis of the biblical text compared to historical sources shows the inconsistencies of the system� The biblical scribes did not master the geography and

9 10

Kallai, 1998; id�, 1997: 53–90; id�, 1986; id�, 1967� Lissovsky / Na’aman, 2003: 291–332� See all the bibliography pertaining to the subject pp� 324–332�

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history of the Levant and they clearly know better the regions around Judea, Benjamin and Ephraim than those at a distance, east and west of the Jordan, for which they have recourse to lists of cities (Simeon, Dan, Issachar and Manasseh) or combine lists with the description of frontiers (Zebulun, Asher and Naphtali)� Distant regions are beyond their horizon as the errors concerning the frontiers between Gad and Naphtali show, for example.11 As a result, the tribal system assigns territories to the tribes that have always belonged to adjacent kingdoms: • The heritage of Dan covers the territory of the kingdom of Ekron in the viith c. BCE (with the exception of the region of Beth-Shemesh which was Judean until its annexation by Ekron after the campaign of Sennacherib in 701)� • The Philistine coast has always been governed by a number of Philistine kingdoms and has therefore never been part of the Judean kingdom (Jos 15:46–47)� The same may be said of the desert regions in the Negev south of Beer-Sheva, inhabited by nomadic tribes, among which the Edomites (Wādi ‘Arabah). As a consequence, this phenomenon greatly extends Judea. • The heritage of Reuben corresponds to the region of Moab situated behind the river Arnon and the Wādi Kefrein. The region between the lowlands of Madaba and the Wādi el-Wāleh first belonged to the Omride dynasty before being lost to Moab, according to the Mesha stela. All the territory of Reuben is consequently Moabite at the end of the ixth c� BCE and remained so even after the Assyrian conquest� • The strip of the heritage of Gad (Jos 13:25) belongs to the kingdom of Ammon and was never a part of Israel. The region remained Ammonite even after the Assyrian conquest� • The region of Bashan falling to the lot of the half tribe of Manasseh belonged to Aram-Damascus during part of the First-Temple period, before being annexed by Assyria and becoming the province of Karnaim� • The heritage of Asher covers the territory of Tyre during the FirstTemple period and was never Israelite.

11

Lissovsky / Na’aman, 2003: 315�

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Undoubtedly, the will of the scribes to invent a greater “Israel” is manifest. This invented tribal system is therefore dated after the fall of the kingdom of Israel when Assyria created different provinces in the region (Megiddo, Dor, Samaria, Gilead and Karnaim)� For N� Lissovsky and N� Na’aman there is clearly no historical foundation to the biblical tribal system; its description is literary and theological: “Thus the system of tribal allocations reflects a broad range of territories, which have nothing in common historically, administratively or tribally�”12 The biblical scribes delimited the frontiers of each tribe, cutting it or extending it according to their will, their familiarity with the territory, and their access to lists and sources� As for the literary argument, analysis of the different biblical references leads to the most genial aberration: there are no twelve tribes in Israel despite the preference for that number and the common argument of making Levi no tribe so as to leave room for Manasseh and Ephraim, sons of Joseph! If the tribal system is laid out after the conquest when the land is allotted to the tribes, it is in this view geographical (see Judg 5 and the book of Ezekiel). It is also, however, genealogical as it is founded on the genealogy of the patriarch Jacob / Israel in the book of Genesis. It is also military as expanded in the book of Numbers. The table below shows the rank of every tribe in each list, and the total number of tribes according to each reference: The Tribal System according to Biblical Texts Biblical references / Names of the tribes in the order of their birth

12

Gen Gen 29:31 35: –30:24 2327 + 35: 16-19

Gen 46: 8-27

Gen Num Num Num Deut 26 33: 10: 1: 49: 1-29 1-33 1-47 1128

Reuben (by Leah)

1

1

1

1

1

4

1

Simeon (by Leah)

2

2

2

2

2

5

2

1

Jos 13 – 19

1 9

Judg Eze 1 48: Chr 5: 1-31 1-29 2: 1-2

5

6

1

9

2

Lissovsky / Na’aman, 2003: 322� Noth cautioned that the tribal system was not the depiction of an historical situation but rather evolution� See Noth, 1970; id�, 1930�

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Levi (by Leah)

3

3

3

3

2

3

Judah (by Leah)

4

4

4

4

4

1

4

3

5

Dan (by Bilhah of Rachel)

5

9

14

7

10

9

11

11

14

Naphtali (by Bilhah of Rachel)

6

10

15

10

12

13

12

13

Gad (by Zilpah of Leah)

7

11

8

8

3

6

3

10

2

Asher (by Zilpah of Leah)

8

12

9

9

11

10

12

13

12

Issachar (by Leah)

9

5

5

6

5

2

5

9

Zebulun (by Leah)

10

6

6

5

6

3

6

8

Dinah (by Leah)

11

Joseph (by Rachel)

12

7

10

11

7

7

5

Benjamin (by Rachel)

13

8

11

12

9

10

4

8

8

8

7

4/7

7

9

6

6

12

Ephraim (by Joseph)

13 12 + 1 = 13

7

4

6

1

7

8

3

10

12

11

7

2

12

11

4

10

5

10

3

11

6

7

Manasseh (by Joseph)

Total

3

12

12+1+2 = 15

8

12

11+1 = 12

10

8

11+2 11+2 11+1+(2×1/2) = = = 13 13 13

2

8

9

4 1

5

8

12

The first comment that must be made is that the number of the tribes depends upon the manner in which one counts the descendants of Jacob: • Clearly Dinah, daughter of Jacob and of his first spouse Leah, is necessary for the story of the birth of Jacob’s children in order to make the number twelve (Gen 29:31–30:24)� However, she never becomes a matriarch (Gen 34) and is definitively replaced with the

12

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birth of Benjamin (Gen 35:16–19) so she enters in no tribal scheme13 and it is without her that the descendants of Jacob are finally twelve. • Joseph has a particular status since his two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim, are eponymous and fully adopted by Jacob as his own sons (Gen 48)� Accordingly, the number of the tribes after the conquest and the allotting of the land are 13, or more exactly 11 (sons of Jacob) plus 2 (sons of Joseph) of which one, Manasseh, is divided by the Jordan into two half-tribes� • Simeon is at times omitted (Deut 33; Judg 5), but also Levi (Judg 5), Judah (Judg 5) and Gad (Judg 5)� This last remark calls for an awareness of the scribal point of view� Not every text reflects the same ideological and political interests. The political perspective of Judg 5 is northern, starting with Ephraim (the last in the order of birth) and continuing with Benjamin, Zebulun, Issachar, and then Reuben and Dan, closing with Asher and Naphtali. Another text to insist on the importance of the north, even if it is second to Judea, is Deut 33 since after Judah come Benjamin, Joseph and his sons Ephraim et Manasseh� The general order otherwise seems to follow birth order; what clearly changes is the order and therefore importance given to the mother, wife or concubine of the patriarch� Thus, Gen 35:23–27 favors the masculine direct descent through Leah (6), and then Rachel (2), and afterward presents the indirect descent through Bilhah, servant of Rachel (2), and Zilpah, servant of Leah (2). According to the Priestly text, Leah has precedence, however Rachel is at the heart of the system.

13

As I. Fischer has shown, in Gen 30:21, Dinah is mentioned under the heading “besides, additionally”. She is absent from the list of descendants in Gen 35:23–26. In the summary of the migration of Jacob / Israel in Egypt (Gen 46:8–27), she is present in Leah’s list again as an addition (v.15). Indeed, the story of Dinah is another story of the sacrificed life of a woman. See Fischer, 2008: 149–157.

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Table of the descent of Jacob/Israel according to Gen 35 Leah 35:23

Rachel

Bilhah

Zilpah

Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar, Zebulun

35:24

Joseph, Benjamin

35:25

Dan, Naphtali

35:26

Gad, Asher

Gen 46:8–27 also begins with the direct descent of Leah, this time mentioning Dinah (7), and continues with the descent of Zilpah her servant (2), before turning to Rachel, including the two sons of Joseph and her indirect descent through her servant Bilhah (2)� Here is the most complete scheme. Considered a post-Priestly genealogy, it preserves the precedence of Leah, although Rachel is still privileged as she is twice referred to as a mother (46:19�22)� Table of the descent of Jacob/Israel according to Gen 46 Leah 46:9-15

46:16-18 46:19 46:20 46:23-25

Zilpah

Rachel

Asenath

Joseph, Benjamin

+

Bilhah

Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Issachar, Zebulun, [Dinah] Gad, Asher

Manasseh, Ephraim Dan, Naphtali

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Gen 49:1–33, like the two preceding texts, begins with the direct descent of Leah but inverses the order between Issachar and Zebulun. After that, the order explodes with Dan (by Bilhah), Gad (by Zilpah), Asher (by Zilpah) and Naphtali (by Bilhah)� The list ends with the direct descent of Rachel, Joseph and Benjamin. This structure opening with the direct descent of Leah and closing with that of Rachel, forming a chiasm as the descent of Bilhah englobes that of Zilpah, puts the partners of Jacob and their descendants on an equal footing. Leah is first in the order of the narrative and chronology, Rachel is first in the heart of Jacob, and all children are equal since the indirect descent is embraced or bracketed by the direct one� Table of the descent of Jacob/Israel according to Gen 49 Leah Gen 49,3–15

Gen 49,16–18

Bilhah

Zilpah

Reuben, Simeon-Levi, Judah, Zebulun, Issachar Dan

Gen 49,19

Gad

Gen 49,20

Asher

Gen 49,21 Gen 49,22–27

Rachel

Naphtali Joseph, Benjamin

Finally, the book of Numbers offers a military vision of the desert march, whereas the book of Joshua is geographical and may be said to point to a greater Israel. The book of Ezekiel also offers a renewed geographical vision from north to south and from east to west� Concerning the diachrony of these lists, different hypotheses have been put forward� They tend to acknowledge a late date for the tribal system� According to J�-D� Macchi, the words addressed by Jacob to his sons in Gen 49 would be the result of a literary process in two steps—the first one during the time of the northern kingdom (49:13–21), and the second one during the Persian period (49:1b-12.22–28a). This work is attributed to a sole scribe

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before the book of Genesis reached its final stage14 and is dependent upon other texts such as Gen 34:1–26*; 35:21–22 as well as the Judean stratum of the Joseph romance� This analysis and that of the different tribal systems show that the conception of Israel as twelve tribes is not anterior to the exile (vith c� BCE)15� According to K� Sparks, the results, although based on different grounds, tend to similar conclusions: Deut 33 and Gen 49 based on a list of 10 tribes from the north give pre-eminence to Joseph�16 This list would have been revised to give pre-eminence to Judah and add Simeon and Levi. This is made clear with the blessings discrediting Reuben, Simeon and Levi. In that sense, Gen 34 and 35:21–22 are presupposed. The context for such a revision cannot be earlier than the exile, so the list is of no help for any historical reconstruction� Clearly the tribal system serves another function than that of historical reconstruction, whether it be geographical or genealogical� How can this “rewriting of the land” be understood? In the framework of the Tora / Pentateuch, the different myths of origin and the central place of the law, the tribal system could be not just invented but brilliantly borrowed. In a comparative approach, the Athenian model stands out in a very stimulating manner and has for itself the argument of contemporaneousness� II. The Athenian Model Comparison with the Athenian model is not new� M� Weinfeld did demonstrate how the patriarchal narratives and the Greek legends of heroes / ancestors associated with founding myths were structurally or typologically close�17 Concerning the motif of the allotment and the settlement of the land, he noted the parallel with Plato’s Laws:

14 15

16 17

Macchi, 1999� Different arguments are put forward� As the words concerning Judah and Joseph presuppose Deut 33 and the divine epithets in Gen 49:24–25 have parallels in postexilic texts, Gen 49 is as a consequence considered posterior. Moreover the scribal milieu is Judean (49:8–12), but manifests no polemic toward the north and the Joseph’s tribes (49:22–26). This consideration of the north is to be compared to other Persian texts such as Zech 10; Eze 37 or 1 Chr 5:1–2 and the final redaction of the Pentateuch. On the contrary, Reuben, Simeon and Levi are the object of a polemic (49:3–7) as if for Judea the threat came not from the north but from immediate and adjacent regions� Sparks, 2003: 327–347; id�, 1998� Weinfeld, 1993� See also Kupitz, 1997: 84–87 (and previously Eusebius, Preparation for the Gospel, XII).

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For example, in the Laws of Plato (745 b–c), we find a description of the founding of a settlement that shows surprising similarity to the account of the Israelite settlement and the division of the land by lot (before the Lord) in the book of Joshua. In Plato’s Laws we read that ‘the lawgiver must found his city as nearly as possible in the center of the country � � �’; first, an acropolis (temple) must be established, and then, ‘starting from this [the acropolis] he must divide up both the city itself and all the country into twelve portions� � � � And he must divide the citizens also into twelve parts� � � � After this they must also appoint twelve allotments for the twelve gods, and name and consecrate the portion allotted to each god, giving it the name of ‘phyle’ [tribe].’ A similar procedure is reflected in the description of the division of the land in Josh� 18, where the tent of meeting is set up, after which the land is ‘written’ (= delineated; see below) according to the inheritances of the tribes and divided up by lot before the Lord, at Shiloh (vv� 2–10)�18

But for the author, because the patriarchal narratives were to be dated to the Davidic monarchy, there was no question of historical comparison� His analysis was primarily thematic, structural and typological� The situation is clearly different today and, as has been shown, there is no doubt that the finalization of the Tora / Pentateuch is indeed a very late phenomenon whose terminus ante quem cannot be after the translation of the Tora into Greek that is in the third century BCE19. It is thus also possible to compare the Athenian and biblical tribal system on historical grounds, not only philosophical or literary� As a consequence, one has to go back to the birth of the Athenian city and Clisthenes, its founding figure (second part of the vith c� BCE), who re-organized the Athenian territory with the deme as the basic unit� Each deme was constituted of one or two villages, hamlets surrounding or a district of the city of Athens� The citizen was no longer known by his birth—which used to distinguish those of foreign origin or those of noble and brilliant descent—but by the sole name of his deme�20 However, if the first distribution was geographical it goes without saying that the

18 19

20

Weinfeld, 1993: 22–23� I do not follow the hypothesis of G. E. Gmirkin advocating the writing of the Tora by the Seventy translators assembled in the great library at Alexandria c. 270 BCE. However, the strength of the author is in his thorough comparison of Greek sources and Hebrew Bible� See Gmirkin, 2016� Sartre, 2006: 91�

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transmission became genealogical� The name of the deme was from then on associated with the descent of the citizen� Clisthenes also divided the demes into a system of ten tribes� These tribes were not the relic of some ancient time when the Athenians would have been living tribally� The system was invented in order to gather citizens into groups�21 The ten new tribes took their names from Athenian heroes that the Pithy of Delphi chose from a list containing a hundred names�22 This innovation tended to make Clisthenes the true founder of Athenian democracy23 and terms such as isegoria and isonomia reflect the originality of this system giving free access to speech and equality before the law to all citizens�24 As M� Sartre sums up: The novelty in the Clisthenian system is that power is placed ‘at the center’ of the community and that all have access to it one way or another, some by being elected to the highest offices, some by joining the Council of the 500 after the drawing of the lots, and all by participation in the people’s assembly. All may speak to convince, all may vote to express their opinion�25

This tribal organization was an important element in the re-foundation of Athens on the new bases of democracy. It is indeed not historical in the sense that it does not reflect geographical or genealogical traditions. Rather it is a political and ideological construction, producing a newly “mixed” society, certainly serving the political interests of the man Clisthenes to break his opponents, but also instituting a new reality for each citizen who gained full recognition of speech and action� Clearly such

21 22

23 24 25

This system did exist before but the tribes were four in number. They were called “Ionian.” To constitute each tribe, Clisthenes adopts a complex geographical system in order to mix the citizens� He divides the territory (chôra) into three zones: the city (astu), the coast (paralia) and the inland (mésogeia)� Each of these three zones is in turn divided into ten units, called the trittyes, so as to be 30� Once the land is thus divided, each tribe is constituted with three trittyes, one from the city, one from the coast and one from the inland so that in every tribe men from every place are brought equally together� Sartre, 2006: 92� This word appears only in compound form in Aeschylus’ The Suppliants in 472 BCE� On this notion see Lévêque / Vidal-Naquet, 1973: 73–80. “La nouveauté, dans le système clisthénien, c’est que le pouvoir politique est placé « au centre » de la communauté, et que tous y ont accès d’une manière ou d’une autre, certains par l’élection aux magistratures les plus prestigieuses, d’autres par le tirage au sort au Conseil des 500, tous par la participation à l’assemblée populaire. Tous peuvent prendre la parole pour convaincre, tous peuvent s’exprimer par leur vote.” Sartre, 2006: 95–96.

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a system provides what we may call a “re-appropriation” of the land by the tribes� This political institution is dated to the vie c� BCE and thus offers a stimulating model to understand the biblical tribal system. In the same way, the biblical system constitutes a “re-writing” and “re-naming” of the land—thus re-appropriation—giving every “Israelite” access to the law and therefore also theoretically the right to speak. It is thus tempting to make the Athenian evolution and revolution the background of the invented biblical tribal system� This historical hypothesis has to my knowledge not been developed, although the debate concerning an Israelite amphictyony has been lively but is now over�26 Indeed, why compare Jerusalem to Athens when the West-Semitic peoples did organize themselves into families, clans and tribes? If this is true, it cannot however give any answer to the biblical ideology connecting genealogy, law and land� The two myths of origin that are generally opposed (patriarchs and genealogy versus Moses and the law) are thus singularly coherent in the light of Athens. If the tribal system both aims at instituting a political system based on the equality of its members and using the land to recreate a new genealogical system, than truly the Tora / Pentateuch conforms to that aim� Moreover, this system inscribes the land into the identity of each member through the name. Indeed, according to Greek sources, autochthony does not mean to have been there since the beginning but to have been there for a long time! The only difference is that this system was never effective in Israel. III. Autochthony and Endogamy or how to think Greek when coming back from Babylon! The Athenian system did change in the course of the vth c� BCE� The laws of Pericles (451) restricted Athenian citizenship to children born of Athenian and legally married parents, so marriage with a foreigner became illegal or, at least, could not produce future Athenian citizens�27 As underlined by V. Azoulay, this decision must be understood in the light of different parameters�28 The first one is political and ideological: the new law was

26

27

28

Bächli, 1977; Mayes, 1977: 53–65; Vaux, 1977: 40–47; id�, 1971: 415–436; Geus, 1976; Noth, 1930� The application of the law was suspended during the war of the Peloponnese so as to fill up the demographic gap and allow the recruitment of new soldiers� But around 403–402 it seems a certain Nikomenes proposed to restore the law of 451 in all its force� Azoulay, 2010: 99� See also Bertrand, 1992: 42–50�

478

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consistent with one of the Athenian founding myths gaining success at the time: autochthony. Indeed, during the second half of the vth c�, the Athenians began to refer to their origins as autochthonous, born of the very land of Attica, contrarily to the other Greeks who usually referred to themselves as allochthones� Athenian citizens thus claimed their prestigious origins (eugeneia) by collectively attributing to themselves a distinctive feature, i�e�, birth, normally an aristocratic feature� This was the foundation of Athenian hegemony over other Greeks�29 It is also possible that the law reveals some kind of hardening in the face of the growing importance of metics in the city�30 However, nothing indicates that this was the fruit of social tension or xenophobia. Certainly, it had socio-economical interests so as to limit the potential number of those benefitting from civic redistributions� Whatever it may be, the evolution in Athens during the vth c� is remarquable: Democracy became progressively more radical and centered on itself� As the Athenians began to receive compensation for institutional participation, they strengthened the criteria for attributing citizenship�31

And this evolution is not independent from identity reflection since it is at the time of the laws of Pericles that the myth of autochthony becomes preeminent: Athenians were “born of the earth,” descendants of Erechtheus himself born of the earth of Attica�32 If in the vth c�, the Greek autochthon did not designate those born of the earth but those who had been living there for a long period of time without having migrated,33 then the

29 30

31

32

33

Azoulay, 2010: 100� If it is difficult to give a precise number, however foreigners represented between one fifth of the population and a half; that is, about 10 000 or 20 000 people in the second part of the ve c� “Se mit ainsi progressivement en place une démocratie plus radicale, mais aussi plus fermée sur elle-même. En même temps que les Athéniens commencèrent à indemniser la participation aux institutions, ils durcirent les critères d’attribution de la citoyenneté.” Azoulay, 2010: 101. The Iliad gives little attention to the Athenian presence in Troy. In the same way, only rare allusions are to be found concerning the beginning of Athens and its royal dynasty in Homer� Apart from Theseid (vie c.?) which existence is little attested, no epic about the city has been preserved� Gantz, 2004: 407� According to Herodotus, this is the case of the Arcadians (VIII 73) in Peloponnese, Carians in Ionia (I 171) and Ethiopians as well as Libyans in Africa (IV 197). The Athenians began to boast of having always lived in Attic during the second medic war�

Jerusalem in the Light of Athens

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inflection given to the term by the Athenians is not devoid of interest.34 Not only had they “always” lived in the land but they were born of Attic mother-earth� Sharing the same mother, they all became brothers which on social grounds is made clear through phratries uniting many under the patronage of a common ancestor�35 Interestingly, in Jerusalem during the Persian period and later— though a precise date is impossible to ascertain—a hardening is made visible on the question of marriage�36 The parallel is striking� As argued by W� Oswald, marriage laws are a common device in societies which are organized as associations of persons. In the case of Greece and Judah these associations of persons are not primitive tribes but quite the opposite; they are complex societies with elaborate law codes serving as constitutions, a differentiated system of public offices and an assembly of full citizens as the central decision-making body� Those who belong to this body enjoy certain privileges (e�g� the right to purchase land, legal security, participation in decisions on public affairs), but also have to fulfill certain duties (submission under the public law)� As far as cult is concerned the members of the body have both the right to participate and the duty to finance the common expenditure. In a societal system of this type it is necessary to control membership in the assembly, and this means controlling citizenship�37

Interestingly, the author argues that identity restriction would not have been necessary during the monarchic period� On the contrary, the king and his nobles and officers would gain from such foreign marriages to extend riches and power� Consequently, marriage laws as well as other strategies for controlling citizenship (genealogies, registers) are better understood at a time when the community is in need of defining itself because no suprapolitical entity can do it. Biblical marriage laws are not an expression of religious intolerance; rather they are a political tool for a society in need of identification. Clearly this helps to understand the contrasting biblical views concerning marriage, especially in the Pentateuch. For example, in the patriarchal narratives (Gen 26:34–35; 27:46–28:9; Gen 24) as well as

34 35 36 37

Moreover, an ancient myth claims that one of the first kings was born of the earth (gegenes) (Il II 547–549). This is known through Euripides’ tragedy at the end of the vth c� The subject was developed by Sophocles in Ajax during the years 440� Azoulay, 2010: 136� See Blok, 2009: 141–170 contra N. Loraux, 1981. Frevel / Rausche, 2012; Frevel / Conczorowski, 2011: 15–45. Oswald, 2012; see already Fried, 2009: 121–141�

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the laws from the Holiness Code (Lev 21:7, 14), the Priestly texts argue for endogamy in the group of Abrahamic offspring�38 The priestly preference for endogamy within a family-structured community is motivated by ethical and cultural views; no sharp opposition may be found between Israel and all the other people. For these unions, the dowry stays within the extended family and the process of inheritance can unfold in a more straightforward manner. Opposite to such an open priestly view, the Deuteronomistic texts regarding Solomon’s foreign wives (1 Kgs 11:1–8), as well as having a critical view on Ahab’s marriage with Jezebel (1 Kgs 16:31), contain an implicit rejection of marriage with foreign women� This condemnation is charged with apostasy� This same warning against foreign women also appears in Exod 34:15–16 and Josh 23:12. Deut 7:3 seems to combine these texts, establishing a legal foundation against intermarriage, which is presupposed in Judg 3:5–6�39 In Neh 13:23–27 the idea of Israel as a holy people (Deut 7:6) is upgraded by the centrality of the temple� The whole community is holy and strongly related to the sanctuary (Ezra 9:2)� As in the case of the priests, this holiness has to be protected� The presence of foreign wives is denoted as a source of impurity, and thus Israel as a holy entity has to be separated. In sum, priestly categories are applied to a Deuteronomistic ideology of election, while the fear of apostasy loses its importance�40 Henceforth, if one may distinguish between a “Deuteronomistic line” within the historical books (Josh 23:7, 12; Judg 3:5–6; 1 Kgs 11:1–8; 16:31 and maybe Isa 2:6) having its legal foundation in Deut 7:3 and Exod 34:15–16 and priestly texts lacking any reference to the danger of religious deviance, later texts such as Ezra-Nehemiah clearly reinterpret earlier traditions since the reference to a common Abrahamic descent is to maintain the purity of the “sons of the golah.” In the book of Ezra, the boundary between Israelite and non-Israelite, predicated on an immutable, God-given distinction between holy and non-holy seed, is utterly impermeable� However, this attempt to construct an impermeable boundary around the community, rejecting exogamy and other modes of assimilation, may be contrasted with other post-exilic texts like Isa 56:3

38

39

40

Lev 21:14–15 exhorts the high priest to marry a virgin of his people, lest he profanes his seed (the priest himself is not said to be profaned or disbarred from service; his seed is)� Ezekiel 44:22 indicates that the requirement of endogamy applies to all priests� Numb 25:1–5 is quite close to this Deuteronomistic line as the Moabite women are held responsible for leading Israel into apostasy. Frevel / Conczorowski, 2011: 42–43�

Jerusalem in the Light of Athens

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(“Let not the foreigner say, who has attached himself to Yahweh, ‘Yahweh will keep me apart from his people’”) or the book of Ruth in which a Moabite woman, a paragon of steadfast love and loyalty to her deceased Israelite husband’s family, is accepted into the covenant community through marriage and becomes the great-grandmother of King David (Ruth 4:17). While assimilation (eventually conversion) and marriage into the covenant community by persons of foreign birth continued in the post-exilic period, the rejection of intermarriage and assimilation and the insistence on unmixed genealogy for the transmission of Judean and later Jewish identity was popular� The ideology of these books is to be compared with the Athenian evolution but also to be distinguished� However, it is striking that they both have recourse to myth to justify their ideology—political and economic—but also to create their renewed identity by rooting it in immemorial past� With this idea of purity and the sanctity of the seed, it is through Abraham, via the institution of the twelve tribes, that not only marriage is established but the land is legitimized� Therefore, the myth of Abraham in which the theme of the land seems to be but a promise not realized—indeed, maybe unrealizable—becomes the device, via the institution of the tribal system, not only of the justification and possession of the land but also of a renewed identity. Indeed, genealogy, land and law as they are construed to form the uniqueness of Tora / Pentateuch are very much enlightened by historical classical Athens and its political and social evolution�

Bibliography Azoulay, V., 2010: Périclès. La démocratie à l’épreuve du grand homme� Nouvelles biographies historiques. Paris. Bächli, O�, 1977: Amphiktyonie im Alten Testament: Forschungsgeschichtliche Studie zur Hypothese von Martin Noth� Theologische Zeitschrift, Sonderband 6� Basel� Bertrand, J�-M�, 1992: Cités et royaumes du monde grec: espace et politique. Paris. Blok, J. H., 2009: “Perikles’ Citizenship Law: A New Perspective”. Historia 58, 141–170� Fischer, I., 2008: Des femmes aux prises avec Dieu: récits bibliques sur les débuts d’Israël. Translated by C. Ehlinger. Lire la Bible 152. Paris.

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Frevel, C� / Conczorowski, B� J�, 2011: “Deepening the Water: First Steps to a Diachronic Approach on Intermarriage in the Hebrew Bible”. In C. Frevel (ed�): Mixed Marriages: Intermarriage and Group Identity in the Second Temple Period� Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 547. Pp. 15–45. Frevel C. / Rausche B., 2012: “Mixed Marriages as a Challenge to Identity in Second Temple Judaism”. In: Results of a research project on mixed marriage in the Hebrew Bible by Prof. Dr. Christian Frevel, Ruhr- Universität Bochum, sponsored by the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG), http://www�bibleinterp�com/articles/fre318503�shtml#sdfootnote1sym ; Fried, L. S., 2009: “The Concept of ‘Impure Birth’ in Fifth Century Athens and Judea”. In S. Holloway / J. A. Scurlock / R. Beal (eds.): In the Wake of Tikva Frymer-Kensky. Winona Lake. Pp. 121–141. Galling, K�, 1928: Die Erwählungstraditionen Israels� Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 48� Giessen� Gantz, T�, 2004: Les mythes de la Grèce archaïque. Paris. Gertz, J. C., 2006: “The Transition between the Books of Genesis and Exodus”. In T. B. Dozeman / K. Schmid (eds.): A Farewell to the Yahwist? The Composition of the Pentateuch in Recent European Interpretation� Symposium Series 34. Atlanta. Pp.73–87. Geus, C� H� J� de, 1976: The Tribes of Israel: An Investigation into Some of the Presuppositions of Martin Noth’s Amphictyony Hypothesis� Studia Semitica Neerlandica 18� Assen� Gmirkin, G� E�, 2016: Plato and the Creation of the Hebrew Bible� London/New York� Kallai, Z�, 1998: Biblical Historiography and Historical Geography� Frankfurt� — 1997: “The Twelve-Tribe Systems of Israel”. Vetus Testamentum 47, 53–90. — 1986: Historical Geography of the Bible: The Tribal Territories of Israel, revised, expanded and updated version of a previous edition in Hebrew, entitled Nahalôt Sibtê Yisra’el� Leiden� — 1967: The Tribes of Israel: A Study in the Historical Geography of the Bible = ‫לארשי יטבש תולחנ‬: ‫ארקמה לש תירוטסיהה היפארגב רקחמ‬‎. Jerusalem. Kupitz, Y., 1997: “Analyse littéraire : La Bible est-elle un plagiat ?”. Sciences et avenir - Les secrets de la Bible, 84–87� Lévêque, P. / Vidal-Naquet, P., 1973: Clisthène l’athénien. Annales Littéraires de l’Université de Besançon 65. Paris. Lissovsky, N� / Na’aman, N�, 2003: “A New Outlook at the Boundary System of the Twelve Tribes”. Ugarit-Forschungen 35, 291–332. Loraux, N., 1981: Les enfants d’Athéna. Paris. Macchi, J�-D�, 1999: Israël et ses tribus selon Genèse 49� Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 171� Fribourg/Göttingen�

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Mayes, A. D. M., 1977: “The Question of the Israelite Amphictyony”. Hermathena 116, 53–65� Noth, M�, 1970: Histoire d’Israël : Israël, ligue de douze tribus ; La Vie de l’ancien Israël dans le monde syro-palestinien ; Israël sous la domination des grandes puissances de l’antique Orient ; Restauration, déclin, ruine� Bibliothèque historique. Paris. — 1930: Das System der zwölf Stämme Israels� Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament 52� Stuttgart� Oswald, W., 2012: “Foreign Marriages and Citizenship in Persian Period Judah”. Journal of Hebrew Scriptures 12, art� 6, www�jhsonline�org/Articles/article_168�pdf Pury, A. de, 2010: “Abraham: The Priestly Writer’s ‘Ecumenical’ Ancestor”. In S. L. McKenzie and T. Römer (eds.): Rethinking the Foundations. Historiography in the Ancient World and in the Bible. Essays in Honour of John Van Seters� Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 294� Berlin/New York. Pp. 163–181. — 2007: “Pg as the Absolute Beginning.” In T. Römer / K. Schmid (eds.): Les dernières rédactions du Pentateuque, de l’Hexateuque et de l’Ennéateuque� Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium 203� Leuven� Pp. 99–128. — 2006: “The Jacob Story and the Beginning of the Formation of the Pentateuch”. In T. B. Dozeman / K. Schmid (eds.): A Farewell to the Yahwist� Symposium Series 34. Atlanta. Pp. 51–72. — 2001a: “Le choix de l’ancêtre”. Theologische Zeitschrift 57, 105–114. — 2001b: “Situer le cycle de Jacob: quelques réflexions, vingt-cinq ans plus tard”. In A. Wénin (ed.): Studies in the Book of Genesis� Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium 155. Leuven. Pp. 213–241. — 1991: “Le cycle de Jacob comme légende des origines autonome d’Israël”. In J. A� Emerton (ed�): Congress Volume - Leuven 1989, Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 43. Leiden. Pp. 78–96. Nogalski, J� / Schmid, K�, 2010: Genesis and the Moses Story: Israel’s Dual Origins in the Hebrew Bible� Winona Lake� Sartre, M�, 2006: Histoires grecques. Paris. Schmid, K., 2014: “Exodus in the Pentateuch”. In T. B. Dozeman / C. A. Evans / J. N� Lohr (eds�): The Book of Exodus: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation, Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 164. Leiden. Pp. 27–60. — 2012a: “Genesis and Exodus as two Formerly Independent Traditions of Origins for Ancient Israel”. Biblica 93, 187–208. — 2012b: “Genesis in the Pentateuch”. In C. A. Evans / J. N. Lohr / D. L. Petersen (eds�): The Book of Genesis. Composition, Reception, and Interpretation� Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 152. Leiden. Pp. 27–50.

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Sparks, K. L., 2003: “Genesis 49 and the Tribal List Tradition in Ancient Israel”. Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 115, 327–347� — 1998: Ethnicity and Identity in Ancient Israel: Prolegomena to the Study of Ethnic Sentiments and their Expression in the Hebrew Bible� Winona Lake� Van Seters, J., 1992: Prologue to History: The Yahwist as Historian in Genesis� Zürich� — 1972: “Confessional Reformulation in the Exilic Period”. Vetus Testamentum 22, 448–459� Vaux, R. de, 1977: “Was There an Israelite Amphictyony?”. Biblical Archaeology Review 3, 40–47. — 1971: “La Thèse de l’Amphictyonie Israélite”. The Harvard Theological Review 64, 415–436� Weinfeld, M�, 1993: The Promise of the Land: The Inheritance of the Land of Canaan by the Israelites� Berkeley�

Nectanebo II of Greek and Egyptian sources1 Agnieszka Wojciechowska Nectanebo II was the last pharaoh of XXX dynasty and the last generally recognized native king of Egypt whose reign, now dated to 359–339 B�C�, ends the last era of Egyptian independence under native kings�2 He is perhaps the best documented pharaoh of the Late Period, both in terms of the sheer quantity of sources and the diversity of their origin: written contemporary Egyptian, contemporary Greek, later Demotic and Greek, and also archaeological and numismatic evidence� This article will assess whether various categories of ancient sources paint roughly the same image of Nectanebo II or if the differentiated cultural origin of our sources results in markedly different perspectives on the reign of this pharaoh� Classical evidence is the largest category of evidence—almost all narrative sources are Greek and Roman, and this evidence has conventionally been the cornerstone of all modern research on the Egypt of Nectanebo II. Classical sources refer primarily to wars between the Egypt of Nectanebo II and the Persian Empire. There is, however, no surviving continuous contemporary Greek account of Nectanebo, with occasional reference in Isocrates, Xenophon, and Speusippus.3 The most substantial Greek evidence of the reign of this pharaoh is Diodorus, himself most likely relying on Ephorus of Kyme�4 Corroborating evidence

1

2 3

4

Research leading to writing of this article was founded by the National Science Centre, Poland through a Maestro grant (UMO-2014/14/A/HS3/00132). Depuydt, 2010; Wojciechowska, 2016: Chapter I Chronology, 8–14. Isoc. 4.161, 5.101‒102; 12.17, 12.159, 12.267; Speus. 8‒10, 12; X� Ages. 2�30–31; Beloch, 1922: 534‒535; Hall, 1927: 152; Bickermann / Sykutris, 1928: 29‒30; Bickermann, 1934: 80‒81, 83–84; Kienitz, 1953: 170‒171; Depuydt, 2008: 207–210, 220, 224–225, 270. D.S. XV 92.2–3, 92.4, 5–6, 93.2–3, 5–6, XVI 40.3‒4, 40.5, 41.1‒6, 42.1‒2, 47.1‒7, 48.1–2, 48.1, 3–6, 49.1‒7, 51.1‒2; Kienitz, 1953: 102–107, Drioton, 1970: 234; Daumas, 1973: 92‒93; Olmstead, 1974: 402, 406–407, 409; Bresciani, 1985: 525; Ray, 1987: 84; Briant, 2002: 682‒687; Schlögl, 2006: 351.

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can be found in Cornelius, Nepos, Plutarch, Polyaenus and Atheneus.5 There are also later accounts of Didymus, Eusebius, John Malalas and dependent Byzantine authors�6 Classical sources show the beginning of the rule of Nectanebo II as a period of relative peace and stability after the failed expedition of the Persian army of prince Artaxerxes, later Artaxerxes III against Tachos.7 The next war started in 351/350 B.C., already under Artaxerxes III, when the Persian army set off to conquer Egypt. Few reliable details of this expedition are known. The King did not lead his forces in person and his generals retreated, in Diodorus’ opinion, on account of their lack of experience and lack of courage.8 Before the war could resume, Artaxerxes III had to deal with revolts in Phoenicia and Cyprus, the lands which furnished most ships to the Persian navy and had to be pacified prior to any expedition to Egypt.9 The rebellion in Phoenicia started in Sidon, outraged by the arrogant and despotic behavior of Persian satraps and officers. King Tabnit (Tennes of classical sources) of Sidon, supported by Tyre and Rhodes, also approached Nectanebo II who dispatched 4,000 mercenaries in assistance, led by the accomplished general Mentor of Rhodes. In Diodorus’ account, Tennes, having learnt of the approaching army of Artaxerxes III, offered surrender and his assistance in the expedition to Egypt, citing his knowledge of the topography of the shores of the Nile� An agreement was reached which did not survive for long, either because of additional demands on the side of Tennes or because of his subjects’ mutiny� Sidon was taken by storm and reportedly as many as 40,000 of its inhabitants were slaughtered�10

5

6

7 8

9 10

Plu. Ages. 37.3–6, 38‒40; Plu. Mor. 214f–215a; Trog. Prol. X; Nep. Chab� 3�1; Nep� Ages. 8; Ath. IV 150b‒c; Polyaen. II 1.22; Petrie, 1906: 374, 386–387; Gyles, 1959: 45; Drioton, 1970: 234; Daumas, 1973: 92; Olmstead, 1974: 391–392; Bresciani, 1985: 524‒525; Ray, 1987: 83; Lloyd, 1994: 341, 349; Grimal, 2004: 385‒386; Briant, 2002: 664‒665, Ruzicka, 2007: 100‒101. Did. 8.5‒17; Sync. Ecl., 86, 87, 307, 309; Malalas, Chronographia VII, 242 C; Georgios Monachus, Chronicon (lib. I‒IV), 25; Eus. IV 741b; Waddell,1940: 182–185; Lloyd 1988, 156‒157; Depuydt, 2010: 204. Sync�, 486�20; Bresciani, 1985: 525; Briant, 2002: 681; Grimal, 2004: 385; Blyth, 2006: 222� D.S. XVI 40.3–4; Drioton, 1970: 234; Daumas, 1973: 92–93; Olmstead, 1974: 402; Bresciani, 1985: 525; Ray, 1987: 84; Schlögl, 2006: 351. D.S. XVI 40.5, 44.1, 48.1; Isoc. 5.101–102; D. 15.11–12; Briant, 2002: 682–685. D.S. XVI 41.1–6, 42.1–2, 43.1–4, 44.1-3, 5–6, 45.1–6; D. 12.6; Isoc. 4.161., 5.101; Petrie, 1906: 387; Kienitz, 1953: 102–103; Bresciani, 1985: 525; Briant, 2002: 654, 683–685�

Nectanebo II of Greek and Egyptian sources

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With his army strengthened by the hoplites from Asia Minor and continental Greece, Artaxerxes III gave orders to attack Egypt. His third and final attempt to subdue Egypt should be dated to 340/339 and not to 343/342 B�C�, that date accepted by the majority of modern scholarship�11 This one was led by the Great King in person. The army of Artaxerxes marched through a place Diodorus called Barathra where it sustained unspecified loses, setting up a camp 40 stadia from Pelusium, with his mercenaries taking position even closer to the enemy fortress� All mouths of the Nile had been fortified by Nectanebo, the Pelusian arm defended by 5,000 mercenaries and commanded by a Spartan Philophron. According to Diodorus, Nectanebo II was quite confident, trusting in the numerical superiority of his troops. If this statement is correct, it must apply to the Greek soldiers alone, not to the total strength of both armies: that of Artaxerxes was obviously numerically superior to that of Nectanebo. In Diodorus’ account Nectanebo had 20,000 Greek mercenaries, the same number of Libyans, 60,000 Egyptian machimoi, and a great number of ships fit for combat on the Nile, even if the round figures in our sources are uncertain and probably exaggerated. There is no doubt as to the other statement of Diodorus that Nectanebo had heavily fortified the Pelusium arm of the Nile with walls and channels� His reserve forces reportedly consisted of 30,000 Egyptian, 5,000 Greek and 2,500 Libyan troops�12 Nectanebo, defeated in a seven-day battle, fled to Ethiopia and the Persians occupied Egypt, plundering the country of gold, silver and important documents. Artaxerxes returned to Babylon, leaving behind Pherendates as satrap�13 According to Diodorus, in previous wars Nectanebo triumphed thanks to the services of competent Greek generals, like the Athenian Diophantos and the Spartan Lamios� This time he lost, having tried to lead the troops even if he allegedly lacked military knowledge�14 But the narrative of the surviving classical authors concentrates predominantly on Greek

11 12

13

14

For the date see Wojciechowska, 2016: Chapter I “Chronology”. D.S. XVI 46.1–6, 47.1-7, 48.3; Kienitz, 1953: 104–105; Gyles, 1959: 46; Olmstead, 1974: 406–407; Briant� 2002: 685–686� D.S. XVI 48.3–6, 49.1–7, 50.1–8; Malalas, Chronographia 7�189�17; Georgios Monachus, Chronicon (lib. 1–4), 25; Petrie, 1906: 387; Kienitz, 1953: 106–107; Gyles, 1959: 46; Daumas, 1973: 92–93; Olmstead, 1974: 409; Bresciani, 1985: 525; Ray, 1987: 84; Briant, 2002: 686–687� D.S. XVI 48.1–2.

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mercenaries and their generals on both sides� This has much to do with the sources used by Diodorus, Strabo, Plutarch and Pompeius Trogus in their account of fourth century B.C. history. Ephorus of Kyme in the first place tried to belittle the Achaemenid empire and its soldiers, as if they were by nature inferior to the Greeks�15 Greek fourth c� B�C� authors revile the effeminate Persians weakened by a life of luxury, gluttony and sexual license�16 Knowing that the best Greek generals of the fourth c� B�C�— Agesilaus, Konon, Iphikrates, Chabrias, brothers Mentor and Memnon of Rhodes—fought for the Achaemenid kings, Diodorus portrays them and their Greek soldiers as if they were the principal fighting force of the Persian Empire.17 We already know full well that this is not true; the backbone of the Persian armed forces was always the Iranian cavalry, while Greek mercenaries were an important part of the infantry, integrated into larger armies. The leading generals were almost always Iranians, while Greek mercenary officers, often rewarded for their services with estates in Persian Asia Minor, became integrated with the imperial aristocracy. Diodorus shows Artaxerxes III leading his troops, perhaps in recognition of his assessment of the enemy and as a demonstration of his innate ability to rule the Persian Empire by virtue of scoring an important military triumph�18 And we now come to the Egyptian sources: hieroglyphic inscriptions found on buildings and objects across Egypt, and monumental buildings themselves� The very substantial number of the Egyptian pieces of evidence and their nature is telling, attesting to the extensive activity of Nectanebo, i�e�, his vast building program� One prominent place of Nectanebo’s investment is Behbeit El-Hagar on the eastern arm of the Nile (Damietta branch) which housed the temple of Isis and Osiris, an important shrine under the XXVI dynasty. In this temple, apart from blocks with the cartouches of Nectanebo II, there are also blocks from the

15

16

17

18

Hornblower, 1994: 80–83, 92; Wiesehöfer, 1996; 90–92, Briant, 1996: 803–809� About mercenaries in general see now: Trundle, 2004; Nawotka, 2010: 64–65� Momigliano, 1975: 129–137; Starr, 1976: 50-60; Wiesehöfer, 1996: 80–85; Tuplin, 1996: 153–162; Nawotka, 2010: 64� Parke, 1933: 105–112, 122–132, 165–169; Starr, 1976: 63–66; Ruzicka, 1993: 85–91; Hornblower, 1994: 45–48; Burstein, 2000; Briant, 2002: 783–787; Brosius, 2003: 170– 171; Nawotka, 2010: 63� Briant, 2002: 687; Nawotka, 2010: 64–65�

Nectanebo II of Greek and Egyptian sources

489

chapel of Osiris Hemag (@wt‐¡Mag), the god represented in mummified form with decorations on his bandages�19 In his royal names and titles known from Behbeit el-Hagar and other places, Nectanebo refers to HorusRe, Isis-Hathor, Osiris-Andjti and calls himself: “son of Re, Beloved of Two Lands, King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Golden Horus.”20 Another important place was the temple of Onuris in Sebennytos, of which only a few blocks with cartouches survived the destruction inflicted upon it in the 15th c� The XXX dynasty originated in this place, hence Sebennytos was selected by Nectanebo I for an extensive building program which was continued under Nectanebo II.21 Building blocks attest some works in the temple of Thoth in Hermopolis Parva. Construction works are attested in Tanis in the fortress, in the temple of Horus, and in the temple of Ḥr.w-mr.tj in Pharbaitos, to the east of Faqus. Temples from the age of Nectanebo II, now in a fragmentary state, are known in Bubastis and Tell el-Ahmar (20 km to the north-east of Bubastis)� The temple in Fakusa was destroyed by the soldiers of Artaxerxes III. Blocks from the temples of Atum and Re-Horakhty have survived in Tell el-Maskhuta, while those probably once belonging to the temple of Bastet can be seen in Bilbeis (20 km to the south-east of Bubastis)�22 The temple of Bastet houses a great naos decorated with reliefs showing Nectanebo kneeling to present Maat to his mother Bastet� Kings’ titles are inscribed in door jambs and a solar disk with ureus and cartouches can be seen in cavetto�23 Among the smaller building projects of Nectanebo II are the temple of Ptah-Sokaris-Osiris in Abusir el-Melek, the small temple of Amun in Ibeon, the chapel of Geb and Isis in Koptos, the temple of Haroeris and Heqet in Qus, and the temple of Herishef in Herakleopolis Magna� Works are attested in Saqqara in the temples of Horus, of Osiris/Apis and Isis, in the catacombs of falcons and baboons, in the Serapeum and in the step pyramid, in Karnak in the temple

19 20 21 22

23

Favard-Meeks, 2003: 100, 104-106; Favard-Meeks, 1991: 227; Blyth, 2006: 222� Barguet, 1954: 90� Bianchi, 1984: cols� 766-768� Lipińska, 1977: 212. Archaeological reports related to the construction works of Nectanebo II in Saqqara: Martin, 1981: 1, 36, 69, 84, 96–7, 119, 124–125, 146, 153; Davies / Hill, 2004: 92; Smith, 2005: 16–17, 34, 39–40; Davies, 2006: 13–14, 18–19, 22–24, 27, 48–54, 117; Smith / Davies / Frazer, 2006: 17–19, 93–103, 114, 117–118, 120, 130–131, 134, 175� PM, IV, s. 34; Naville, 1891: 56–59; Kienitz, 1953: 218, nr 21, 23; Van Siclen III, 1994: 322�

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of Amun, in the small temple, in the temple of Khonspakhered, and in the temples of Khonsu, Maat and those in the circle of Mut�24 The above exemplifies Nectanebo‘s II affinity with the cult of Isis and Osiris, already important under Nectanebo I. One further example is the inscription on an obelisk, probably from Horbeit, referring to Osiris-bull rather than to ReHorakhty which would have been more usual in this place�25 Some believe that many early Ptolemaic shrines of Amun and Khonsu in Karnak were in fact initiated under Nectanebo II. Arnold offers a better explanation of the profusion of shrines bearing the name of Nectanebo: Nectanebo commissioned the rebuilding of shrines and chapels of the age of the Middle Kingdom and the chapel of the barque of Thuthmose III, all damaged by the Assyrians and Persians. He most probably had stone (often granite) brought from quarries, and hence stones with his name can be found in the upper layers of the restored buildings. It is the very use of granite which allows for dating the construction works to Nectanebo since he gave preference to this stone, unlike Ptolemies who preferred sandstone. The final argument is the significance of the cult of Amun under Nectanebo II which renders extremely unlikely not conducting works in the most important temple of this god in Karnak� Of course, some of Nectanebo’s projects were interrupted by the Persian conquest, to be resumed by the Ptolemies but in their name, not in Nectanebo’s. This is what might have happened in the temple of Khonsu whose southern gate was probably largely constructed under Nectanebo II and decorated under Ptolemy III.26 In Armant works were conducted in the small temple, and in Medinet Habu a “sacred well” or Nilometer was added to the temple� Nectanebo’s construction projects are also known in the temples of Nekhbet, Thutmose III and Nectanebo in El-Kab,27 in the temple of Sopt in Faqus, in the temple of Min in Panopolis, and in the temple of Nectanebo in Abydos.

24

25 26 27

Lipińska, 1977: 212. Archaeological reports related to the construction works of Nectanebo II in Saqqara: Martin, 1981: 1, 36, 69, 84, 96–7, 119, 124–125, 146, 153; Davies / Hill, 2004: 92; Smith, 2005: 16–17, 34, 39–40; Davies, 2006: 13–14, 18–19, 22–24, 27, 48–54, 117; Smith / Davies / Frazer, 2006: 17–19, 93–103, 114, 117–118, 120, 130–131, 134, 175� Roullet, 1962: 15. Arnold, 1999: 131–132, 138; Blyth, 2006: 222–223� Graffiti: Edgerton, 1937: 310; Thissen, 1989: 310.

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An extensive construction program is also attested in the south of the country and in oases� The new large temple of Khnum was erected in place of the one built during the age of the XXVI dynasty.28 In Edfu works are attested in the temple of Horus. In Dendera a mammisi and a mud-brick building (“sanatorium”) used for bathing and incubation were erected�29 Various projects continued in the Kharga Oasis, on the largest scale in the temple of Hibis�30 Building works are also attested in the Umm Ubaya temple of Amun in the Siwah Oasis�31 A great variety of building fragments and other artifacts clearly dated to the reign of Nectanebo II come from Hermopolis Parva,32 Memphis,33 Serapeum,34 Saqqara,35 Abydos,36 Edfu37, Giza,38 Kharga Oasis,39 Karnak,40 Sais,41 Tell el‒Maskhuta,42 and Heraklepolis Magna�43 The more distinguished among them are: a block and a sacrificial table of Anemho from the necropolis in Abu Rawash44; an obelisk and a statue base from Koptos45; a fragment of a relief from Qantir46; Nectanebo’s sarcophagus and a stele from Alexandria47; a naos from Mendes48; a mill-stone from

28 29 30 31 32 33 34

35

36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

Jenni, 1998; Niederberger, 1999� Łukaszewicz, 2004: 20, 29–31. Smith, 1981: 411� Roullet, 1972: 15; Fakhry, 2005: 167. PM, IV, 72‒73, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 219, no. 28. PM, I, 153; PM, III, 221; Kienitz, 1953: 223, no. 64. PM, III, 178, 179, 213, 215; Kienitz, 1953: 214, nos. 1, 2, 5; 222, nos. 53, 54, 55; 215, no. 5, 221, nos. 46‒48, 222, nos. 49, 50, 58, 223, nos. 59, 63 PM, III, 504, map XLVI, E‒4, 507, 778, plan LXVIII [2], 825, 826; Kienitz, 1953: 215, no. 7, 223, nos. 60‒62. PM, V, 71, 76, plan 38, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 224, nos. 69, 71, 72. PM, VI, 146; Kienitz, 1953: 277, no. 93 PM, III, 312. Kienitz, 1953: 228, nos� 98, 99� PM, II, 339; Kienitz, 1953: 226, no. 86, 227, no. 87. PM, IV, 40, 42, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 219, no. 33, 220, nos. 34, 35. PM, IV, 54, 55, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 216, nos. 10‒12; Spencer, 2006. PM, IV, 119, map II, 175, map V; Kienitz, 1953: 223, no. 66, 224, no. 68. PM, III, 9, 10. plan I and II. PM, V, 126, 134, plan, 124, map II. PM, IV, 10, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 216, no. 13. PM, IV, 3‒5, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 220, nos. 36, 37 PM, IV, 36, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 203, no. 26.

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Leontopolis49; blocks and a naos from Sebennytos50; a fragment of a statue from Heliopolis51; a fragment of a relief from Behna; stelae, statues, a table, the head of statue, a block and a vase from Armant52; fragments of statues from El-Mahala, El-Kubra53 and Iseum.54 A few artifacts—probably from Dendur and Tell el-Ahmar55—and a stele are now in Rome.56 One interesting find is some jugs discovered in a potter’s workshop to the south-west of the St� Jeremiah Monastery� Three of them bear a hieratic inscription: “The first jug of precious oil of Tjai-hap-imu”, i.e., of the father of Nectanebo II here referred to as a “god’s father”.57 In general, temples and places in which Nectanebo II conducted building projects largely overlap with temples and places in which construction projects of the Argead kings of Egypt are attested� The sheer scope of works commissioned in the name of Alexander the Great, Philip III Arrhidaeus and Alexander is significantly smaller than that conducted under Nectanebo II, but the concentration of projects in similar sites is a significant sign of continuation from the Dynasty XXX to the Argeads, symbolically overpassing the Second Persian Rule.58 Last but not least, one needs to presume the existence of extensive mining at stone quarries throughout Egypt to provide the enormous quantity of material necessary for Nectanebo’s construction projects� Quarrying is attested in Wadi Hammamat, in Massara (between Cairo and Fayum Oasis)59 and in El-Gadara where numerous stelae were discovered�60 Reliefs and demotic graffiti of the third year of Nectanebo II survive in Wadi Hammamat�61 Well executed and originally painted with

49 50

51 52

53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61

PM, IV, 39, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 218, no. 25. PM, IV, 43, 44, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 219, nos. 30, 31; Spencer, 1999: 56-58, 76-77, 78; Spencer, 2006� PM, IV, 61, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 221, nos. 40‒43. PM, V, 157, plan 152, 158, 159, map II; Kienitz, 1953: 214, no. 3; 227, no. 88, 227, nos. 89‒91. PM, IV, 42; Kienitz, 1953: 220, no. 36. PM, VII, 414‒415. PM, IV, 10, map I; Kienitz 1953, 217, no. 14. Kienitz, 1953: 215, no� 6� Ghaly, 1994: 81‒82, 84. Nawotka / Wojciechowska, 2016: 27-29� PM, IV, 75, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 21, no. 44. PM, V, 106, map I; Kienitz, 1953: 214, no. 4, 225, no. 73. Thissen, 1979: 64, nos� 1, 65-66, 90�

Nectanebo II of Greek and Egyptian sources

493

ochre, the cartouches of Nectanebo II were found in the Wadi Nachla quarries in Deir el-Barsha. Unlike in the age of Nectanebo I, this time the inscriptions were written in hieroglyphics, not in demotic scripture�62 Demotic graffiti dated to Nectanebo II were found in Tura and Massara quarries,63 all attesting large-scale stone quarrying in his age� It is impossible to mention here all Nectanebo‘s building activity, but we know of 52 temples and chapels buildings built, re-built or expanded during his era� Of course, in the majority of cases repair works or providing further decoration to the existing structures and not newly-built temples are commemorated, but the same applies to all attested construction works executed in Egypt in the name of any pharaoh. Thus, the contemporary Egyptian sources show Nectanebo II as a great builder, surpassing his fourth-century predecessors, and equalling pharaohs of XXVI dynasty, the most celebrated Egyptian dynasty of the Late Period. One interesting body of Egyptian evidence are stelae from the age of Nectanebo related to the animal cult, first of all to the cult of the Mother of Apis. Although the animal cult is typical of the Late Period in general, the outburst of activity associated with the Mother of Apis is a prominent feature of the reign of Nectanebo II in particular. Two stelae dated to the second month of peret in the 5th year of Nectanebo (14 May 355 B�C�) were probably carved to commemorate the burial of the Mother of Apis and the bringing of her sarcophagus to the tomb� On both stelae the name of the calf is missing. The next two stelae, dated to the third month of akhet in the 9th year of Nectanebo II (18 January–February 351 B.C.) bear both the name of the king (Nxt‐¡r‐m‐Hb) and of the cow, probably Ihy‐rwD� The first stele recounts the journey of the sarcophagus to the tomb, the second lists the names of workers�64 The Mother of Apis, identified with Isis, was probably first worshipped under Dynasty XXX in the so-called Iseum of Saqqara, the burial place of Mothers of Apis� The Mother of Apis, like her son, was a living god�65 Isis was worshipped as Mother of Apis in a temple in Memphis, and in the Ptolemaic and Roman times she was often depicted wet-nursing Apis’ bull, symbolically referring to selecting the next Apis.66

62

63 64 65 66

Willems / De Meyer / Depraetre / Peters / Op de Beck / Vereecken / Verrept / Depauw, 2006: 337-339� Spiegelberg, 1905: 222, 228, no� 2 descr� Roullet, 1972: 15; Smith, 1972: tab. 3, 4; Smith, 1992: 209–210, 222; Lloyd, 2002: 386. Kemp, 2006: 375; Dunand / Lichtenberg / Lorton, 2006: 112� Török, 2011: 87�

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Nectanebo II participated in the funeral of Apis in Memphis, as is known from the stele of the 19th day of the fourth month in his second year�67 A few more demotic stelae dated to the reign of Nectanebo II were found in Memphis� One, unearthed in the Bucheum in Armant, describes the death and burial of the Buchis bull�68 Buchis was the sacred animal of the god Montu, harking from Armant (Hermontis), perceived as the incarnation of Ba of Re and Osiris. White animals with black faces were selected as Buchis bulls, although Macrobius attributes to them the property of changing colour every hour and the peculiar feature of their hair growing backwards� These animals were buried in sandstone or granite sarcophagi� Interestingly, Nectanebo not only followed the animal cult, already at its pinnacle in later years of the Late Period, but largely contributed to its popularity. It suffices to say that the cult of the Buchis bull initiated under Nectanebo II lasted until Diocletian.69 Another interesting feature of the reign of Nectanebo II is the cult of the divine falcon. Victorious in the war with Persia of 351–350 B.C., the pharaoh was acclaimed the divine falcon� Nectanebo was principally treading the path known already in the Old Kingdom, with Khafre (Cheops) once depicted with a falcon embracing his head with his wings� As is best attested by a statuary group now in the Metropolitan Museum of New York, Nectanebo is shown in the company of a giant falcon representing Horus� This was surely meant to underline the power and might of Nectanebo, the pharaoh who defeats all enemies of Egypt�70 One interesting feature of the reign of Nectanebo II is his coinage. A few specimens of gold coins attributed either to Nectanebo I or to Nectanebo II are extant, the first one found in 1896 in Damanhur hoard, others in Mit Rahina and elsewhere. Because of the known place and context of the finds, there is no doubt as to the authenticity of these rare coin series. This is a gold coin 8�15 to 8�90 g in weight with a prancing horse on the obverse and with a hieroglyphic inscription nbw nfr (“good gold”) on the reverse or on both sides� As interesting as this unusual gold coin is, the bulk of the very substantial Egyptian coinage of the age of Nectanebo II was in silver. Egyptian hoards of the second half of the fourth c� B�C� commonly yield

67 68 69 70

Roullet, 1972: 15; Smith, 1972: tab. 3, 4; Smith, 1992: 209–210, 222; Lloyd, 2002: 386.

PM, V, 158, plan, 152; Kienitz, 1953: 214, no. 3, 227, no. 88.

Macrob�, Sat� 1�21�20; Grenier, 1983; Shaw / Nicholson, 1997: 56� Griffiths, 1991: 175; Briant, 2002: 950; Blyth, 2006: 222; Ruzicka, 2012: 121; Nawotka / Wojciechowska, 2016: 20–21�

Nectanebo II of Greek and Egyptian sources

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Athenian-type tetradrachms�71 Their mixed style, containing both features typical of fifth-century B.C. Athenian coins (with Athena’s eye rendered en face) and of fourth-century B�C� Athenian coins with Athena’s eye in profile, speaks against Athens as their place of origin.72 These coins have now been identified as local imitations of Athenian tetradrachms. The local production of Athenian-type tetradrachms is almost certain in the light of dies uncovered in Sais,73 Memphis,74 Alexandria75 and Aswan�76 Coin production was not an absolute novelty in Egypt, since the first mint in this country most probably operated for a long time in Naukratis where 97 silver coins of 500–350 B�C� and ca� 90 bronze coins of 350–300 B�C� have been found�77 From the mid-fourth c� B�C�, if not earlier, Egyptian mints coined imitations of Athenian tetradrachms, gold and bronze coins� They operated in Memphis,78 and probably also in Aswan�79 This mass coin production, surely the first of this caliber in the history of Egypt, needs to be seen in the context of wars he was waging with the Persian Empire. The bulk of his army were native Egyptian soldiers, mobilized for the duration of a campaign, practically speaking always outside the agricultural season when they were busy working the fields. This alone necessitated the employment of a large number of mercenaries— Greeks in the first place.80 In all probability, the mass production of imitation Athenian tetradrachms under Nectanebo II served the needs of the pharaoh’s army whose mercenary soldiers surely expected to be paid in coined money� At this time coins were making limited inroads into the Egyptian economy, as attested by occasional finds outside hoards and (rare) references to coins in Demotic papyri�81

71

72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

IGCH 1649, 1650, 1651, 1652, 1653, 1654, 1657, 1658; Van Alfen, 2002: s. 44–46; p. 56 do s. 45; Buttrey, 1882: s. 137–140; Nicolet-Pierre, 2005: s. 12; Müller-Wollermann 2016, chapter 12� Buttrey, 1982: s� 137� Jongkees, 1950: s� 299–300� Buttrey, 1982: s� 137� Jongkees, 1950: s� 300� Lipiński, 1982: s. 27. Head, 1886: s. 3, 10–11; Van Alfen, 2002: s. 21–22. Von Reden, 2007: s. 32. Lipiński, 1982: s. 24. Müller-Wollermann, 2016: chapter 12� Zauzich, 1980: s� 243�

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One curious Egyptian source on Nectanebo II is the Dream of Nectanebo, a literary work surviving in longer Greek and much shorter demotic fragments� The literary quality of it is typical of Egyptian literature so it has long been the scholarship’s position that the Greek version of it was translated from Egyptian�82 One of the demotic fragments mentions the 18th year of Nectanebo II, a good king living in harmony with all gods of Egypt who had a dream in which he saw himself and a great god�83 The narrative of the fuller Greek version (and of other demotic versions) of the Dream of Nectanebo is set in the night of 21/22 Pharmuthi in the 16th year of Nectanebo II, two years prior to the Persian invasion�84 The full moon mentioned in the Dream of Nectanebo helps us to pinpoint the date to 5/6 July 343 B�C� and this almost certainly was the original date in the story. Since Nectanebo II ruled for at least 18 years,85 the year 18 in one of the demotic papyri could be the trace of an attempt to correct a perceived mistake in the date because the narrative of the Dream of Nectanebo pertains to his final year as pharaoh. In the night of the full moon the pharaoh was in Memphis where he made a sacrifice to the gods, asking them to reveal the future to him� The dream is the answer to Nectanabo’s prayer� He sees a papyrus boat moored in Memphis, with Isis seated on the throne surrounded by other gods. One of them, Onuris, prostrated himself before Isis, telling her that he had been protecting the land of which she had made Nectanebo king� Nectanebo had however disregarded him by failing to bring to completion his temple in the place called Pherso (i.e., Per-Shu or House of Shu). Isis did not say a word. The awoken Nectanebo summoned a high priest and a prophet from the temple of Onuris in Sebennytos� They told him that the only thing to be done in the temple was to have hieroglyphic inscriptions executed, and if Nectanebo

82

83

84

85

Ryholt, 1998: 200. In 1997 four demotic papyri in the Carlsberg collection were identified as conveying the Egyptian rendition of the Dream of Nectanebo, one of them concurrent with the Greek text and the remaining three revealing the part of the story that had been omitted by Apollonios� Although the demotic papyri are by some 250 years younger than the papyrus of Apollonios (late first/early second c. A.D.), in all probability they contain the original demotic version of the Dream of Nectanebo� Ryholt, 1998: 197–198. Greek text and commentary: Wilcken, 1905; Lavagnini, 1922; Wilcken, 1927: 364–374; Koenen, 1985. Also Ruzicka, 2012: 199. Spalinger, 1978: 145; Spalinger, 1992: 295; Olmstead, 1974: 407; Koenen, 1985; Translation: Hoffmann / Quack, 2007: 162–166� An inscription from Edfu is dated to the 18th year of Nectanebo II. PM, VI, 167.337–344, plan, 130; Meeks, 1972; Johnson, 1974: 10; Manning, 2003: 246; Ruzicka, 2012: 199.

Nectanebo II of Greek and Egyptian sources

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failed to have it done he would suffer defeat and death—much the same story as the one pertaining to Amasis in the Demotic Chronicle� To get the inscriptions in the temple cut, Nectanebo hired an expert Padiast (PA‐ di‐Ast) who declared that he would complete the task within a few days� But when in Sebennytos Padiast, a lover of wine and of female beauty, paid more attention to the daughter of a perfume maker than to his job�86 Making a break in the major narrative to insert a romantic or erotic story was a typical feature of Egyptian literature� The missing part of the whole story, which must have followed the romantic episode in Sebennytos, almost certainly told of the events of the downfall of Nectanebo, with an explanation of the wrath of gods for his disregard of his religious duties.87 The Dream of Nectanebo and the so-called Egyptian logos in the Alexander Romance belong to a larger, now lost, literary work commonly called the Royal Novel of Nectanebo, originally written in Demotic.88 Indeed, comparison between the Greek text and the Demotic fragments of the Dream of Nectanebo betrays the Egyptian origin of several, sometimes strange, features in the Greek version of the text. The first example is the word ἱερογλύφος used to describe Padiast. Here it does not mean hieroglyphic scripture, but the “writer of hieroglyphs”, as Hm‐n‐sanx in the Demotic text. Another example is less obvious: it is Nectanebo’s epithet “good king” borne by him despite his failure in the last war with Artaxerxes III. A pharaoh was always a winner in war, so this epithet applied to Nectanebo suggests, in keeping with the Egyptian literary habit, that the text had been written prior to Nectanebo’s defeat when he could still have been called “good king”�89 Nectanebo’s trust in prophecies is also reflected in the passage in the Demotic Chronicle concerned with his failed attempts at defending Egypt�90 The prophecies and the list of kings of the last native dynasty in the Demotic Chronicle were not an embellishment

86

87 88 89

90

Olmstead, 1974: 407; Spalinger, 1978: 145; Olmstead, 1974: 407‒408; Spencer, 2001; Hoffmann / Quack, 2007: 162‒165; Spencer, 1999. Olmstead, 1974: 407‒408; Spalinger, 1978: 146. Nawotka, 2017: 25–26� For Egyptian literary and cultural topoi in “Alexander Romance” see Nawotka 2019 and in the “Dream of Nectanebo” see Wojciechowska 2022 (forthcoming)� Demotic Chronicle V.19–20; Johnson, 1974: 4; Johnson / Ritner, 1990: 496 “Oh foreman of the garden (‘ruler of Egypt’), May your hedge keep standing! Of him again He says, ‘he rests, the other (Persian?) keeps a hedge standing outside his stolen property.’ Water the vines, let the large trees live� The rest of the things which he said is like saying ‘Beware of the greedy ones!’”

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of the narrative; they served the ideological purpose of foretelling the coming of the new dynasty from Herakleopolis, the Ptolemies who were to rule Egypt in the age after the foreigners, Persians and Greeks.91 And of course Nectanebo, astrologer and magician, is also known from the Alexander Romance whose initial chapters are surely of Egyptian, earlyHellenistic origin�92 There is a fundamental difference in the depiction of Nectanebo in classical and Egyptian sources, not so much in the sense of presenting contradictory sets of data but rather of concentrating on different elements of his curriculum, to the exclusion of all other elements. Greek sources, as is best attested in Diodorus, are interested in wars waged by the pharaoh, with highly disproportional attention paid to Greek mercenaries and their generals� But this was the prevailing attitude of Greek authors dealing with the Achaemenid Empire too�93 The bulk of the Egyptian evidence produced as a result of Nectanebo‘s activity is concerned with construction works and religion. If we take into consideration private demotic documents from his age, the image of a peaceful existence in Egypt dominates the picture�94 The evidence for wars fought by Nectanebo both with his troops and by proxy, supporting allies with mercenaries, money and food, is indirect� Certainly, the scale of Nectanebo‘s construction works in monumental architecture testifies to a very strong Egyptian economy which could also provide resources for a vigorous foreign policy� The archaeological trace of defensive structures at Tell el-Farama built under Nectanebo I and strengthened under Nectanebo II, if read in the context of Strabo‘s account on Chabrias‘ activity in the service of the pharaoh,95 is a testimony of Nectanebo‘s substantial investment in the state-of-art fortification of Egypt‘s border with the Persian Empire. And the Egyptian business accounts deny that the mass production of Athenian-style silver coins may have primarily served the local economy, leaving the needs of the pharaoh’s foreign mercenaries as the most likely rationale for the costly

91 92 93

94

95

Demotic Chronicle II.24–III.1. Nawotka, 2017: 38–41, 50–70, 75� Parke, 1970: 105–112, 122–132, 165–169; Starr 1976, 63–66; Ruzicka,1993: 85–91; Hornblower, 1994: 45–48; Brosius, 2003: 170–171� Spiegelberg, 1932: 108; Malinine, 1974: 45; Zauzich, 1980: 241‒243; Menu, 1981: 46‒51; Cruz-Uribe, 1981‒1982: 6; Cruz-Uribe, 1985: 34‒36; Farid, 1990: 253‒261; Wojciechowska, 2016: 58� Str. XVI 2.33, XVII 1.22. Wojciechowska, 2016: 37, 41, 54.

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endeavor of instituting coin production in Egypt� For some reason we lack any direct Egyptian account of Nectanebo‘s wars, as no victory stele of this pharaoh has survived� Other narrative sources—the Demotic Chronicle, the Dream of Nectanebo and the Egyptian logos in the Alexander Romance— provide a vivid testimony to the Egyptian elite‘s reflection on the defeat of Nectanebo by Artaxerxes III. This was unanimously explained in religious terms: Nectanebo was abandoned by the gods of Egypt and therefore had to lose the war and flee the country. Knowing all of this, we cannot deny that Nectanebo II was an accomplished builder, a great army commander and a magician (hekau) at the same time� Different conventions apparent in various categories of sources isolate these features, none even coming close to a balanced image of the last native pharaoh of Egypt�

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