Panhellenes at Methone: Graphê in Late Geometric and Protoarchaic Methone, Macedonia (ca 700 BCE) 9783110515695, 9783110501278

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Panhellenes at Methone

Trends in Classics – Supplementary Volumes

| Edited by Franco Montanari and Antonios Rengakos Scientific Committee Alberto Bernabé · Margarethe Billerbeck Claude Calame · Philip R. Hardie · Stephen J. Harrison Stephen Hinds · Richard Hunter · Christina Kraus Giuseppe Mastromarco · Gregory Nagy Theodore D. Papanghelis · Giusto Picone Kurt Raaflaub · Bernhard Zimmermann

Volume 44

Panhellenes at Methone | Graphê in Late Geometric and Protoarchaic Methone, Macedonia (ca. 700 BCE)

Edited by Jenny Strauss Clay, Irad Malkin and Yannis Z. Tzifopoulos

ISBN 978-3-11-050127-8 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-051569-5 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-051467-4 ISSN 1868-4785 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A CIP catalog record for this book has been applied for at the Library of Congress. Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2017 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Logo: Christopher Schneider, Laufen Typesetting: jürgen ullrich typosatz, 86720 Nördlingen Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck ♾ Printed on acid-free paper Printed in Germany www.degruyter.com

Preface | V

Preface Preface Preface

Excavations, ongoing since 2003–04, have begun to bring to light ancient Methone in the southern tip of the Haliacmon River Delta, immediately north of modern-day Agathoupolis, ca. 35 kilometers southwest of Thessaloniki. According to the ancient sources, Methone was established by colonists from Eretria in Euboea during the second colonization period (800–500 BCE) and is the oldest colony of the southern Greeks on the northern shores of the Aegean. By the end of the 8th century, with its safest harbor in the Thermaic Gulf, Methone became a chief commercial and industrial centre. Methone occupies two hills, which were located by the sea before sedimentations of the rivers Axios, Loudias, and especially the nearby Haliacmon pushed the coastline ca. 500 meters away from the site. On the eastern, lower hill habitation already starts by the late Neolithic (5200 BCE) and continues throughout the Bronze Age (3000–1100 BCE), while a Late Bronze Age (1400– 1100 BCE) cemetery has been located on the western, higher hill. During the Early Iron Age (1100–700 BCE) habitation extends on both hills, and the finds from the eastern hill confirm that colonists from Eretria settled in Methone around 733 BCE. Unique and so far unprecedented for Macedonia are the pots and potsherds unearthed from a rectangular pit of 3.50 × 4.50 meters wide and over 11 meters in depth, apparently used as an apothetes. The greatest majority of these sherds dates to ca. 700 BCE, and 191 of them, recently pieced together, bear inscriptions, graffiti, and (trade)marks inscribed, incised, scratched, and (rarely) painted. The Centre for the Greek Language, a private legal entity under the auspices of the Ministry of Education, Research, and Religious Affairs, under John Kazazis and Antonios Rengakos, undertook the implementation of the project, cofinanced by the European Union (European Social Fund) and the Greek State: “Ancient Greek Dialects of vital importance for the continuity of the Greek language and the cultural tradition – A documentation project for the support of the curricula in the Universities’ Departments of Language and Literature” – Horizontal Action, priority axes 1-2-3 of the Operational Programme “Education and Lifelong Learning” in accordance with the decision of accession No 24885/ 30.11.2010 of the Ministry of Education, Lifelong Learning and Religious Affairs. Within the framework of this Project, the Centre for the Greek Language undertook the publication of the 191 incised sherds from Methone, dated to ca. 700 BCE, which appeared as: Matthaios Bessios, Yannis Tzifopoulos, and Antonis Kotsonas, Μεθώνη Πιερίας Ι: Επιγραφές, χαράγματα και εμπορικά σύμβολα στη γεωμετρική και αρχαϊκή κεραμική από το ‘Υπόγειο’ της Μεθώνης Πιερίας στη

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Μακεδονία, Thessaloniki (2012) (online: http://ancdialects.greeklanguage.gr/ studies/methoni-pierias-i). Also, within the framework of the same Project, the Centre for the Greek Language entrusted to Jenny Strauss Clay, Antonios Rengakos, and Yannis Tzifopoulos the organization of an international interdisciplinary conference, which took place in Thessaloniki (June 8–10, 2012), under the title: “Panhellenes at Methone: graphê in Late Geometric and Proto-archaic Methone, Macedonia (ca. 700 BCE).” We would like to thank all invited speakers, chairs, and participants for an eventful and “out of the ordinary” conference, which raised many stimulating ideas and generated lively responses and discussion (in addition to the authors and editors of this volume, in alphabetic order): Ioannis Akamatis, Stelios Andreou, Lucia Athanassaki, Ewen Bowie, Albio Cesare Cassio, Stella Drougou, Giorgos Giannakis, Miltiadis Hatzopoulos, Richard Hunter, John Kazazis, Anne Kenzelmann Pfyffer, Barbara Kowalzig, Irene Lemos, Angelos Matthaiou, Alexandros Mazarakis Ainian, Franco Montanari, Aliki Moustaka, Chryssoula Paliadeli, Nikolaos Papazarkadas, Katerina Rhomiopoulou, Petros Themelis, Thierry Theurillat, Rosalind Thomas, Michalis Tiverios, Kyriakos Tsantsanoglou, Manolis Voutiras, and Rudolph Wachter. Because of the significance for archaeology, ancient history, literature, and the study of the Greek dialects, the conference took the form of a round-table discussion of these new ‘texts’ from Methone and their contexts; the major themes and issues discussed were: Greek(s) in Macedonia and the Second Colonization; trade and the earliest transport amphorae; the scripts of Methone and the appearance of the alphabet; the dialect(s) of Methone and the Greek dialects; contexts for the development of writing, ‘literacy’, and the literary beginnings (trade and economic factors, symposia and literary performances, Homer and heroic/didactic poetry). The fourteen papers in this volume resulted from the conference’s discussions, scrutinizing the finds from these different angles, and have been thoroughly revised and a few written anew. The conference’s success emphasized the need for further study of the finds hitherto unearthed from excavations in Methone and was, therefore, instrumental in the resumption of excavations in 2014 with the cooperation of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Pieria (Matthaios Bessios, Athena Athanassiadou, Kostas Noulas and their team) and the University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA, John K. Papadopoulos, Sarah P. Morris and their team). Much of the conference’s success was due to the assistance of departmental colleagues, research assistants, both graduate and undergraduate students of the Department of Philology at the Aristotle University, and the colleagues from the Centre for the Greek Language.

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We are very much indebted to our co-organizer Professor Jenny Strauss Clay, and also to the President of the Centre for the Greek Language Professor Emeritus John Kazazis and his team for helping us run a successful conference. A special debt of gratitude goes also to Franco Montanari, General Co-Editor of Trends in Classics, for his constant interest and support, as well as to Professors Jenny Strauss Clay and Irad Malkin for accepting our invitation to serve as editors. Last but not least, at De Gruyter we would like to thank Katharina Legutke, Sabina Dabrowski and Elisabeth Kempf for their efficiency and professionalism. Antonios Rengakos and Yannis Tzifopoulos

Thessaloniki, July 2016

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Table of Contents | IX

Table of Contents Table of Contents Table of Contents

Preface | V Jenny Strauss Clay, Irad Malkin and Yannis Z. Tzifopoulos Introduction | 1

Part I: Graphê and Archaeology Antonis Kotsonas, Evangelia Kiriatzi, Xenia Charalambidou, Maria Roumpou, Noémi Suzanne Müller and Matthaios Bessios Transport Amphorae from Methone: An Interdisciplinary Study of Production and Trade ca. 700 BCE | 9 Nota Kourou The Archaeological Background of the Earliest Graffiti and Finds from Methone | 20 John K. Papadopoulos To Write and to Paint: More Early Iron Age Potters’ Marks in the Aegean | 36 Samuel Verdan Counting on Pots? Reflections on Numerical Notations in Early Iron Age Greece | 105 Alan Johnston Texts and Amphoras in the Methone “Ypogeio” | 123

Part II: Graphê, Alphabet, Dialect, and Language Richard Janko From Gabii and Gordion to Eretria and Methone: the Rise of the Greek Alphabet | 135 Francesca Dell’Oro Alphabets and Dialects in the Euboean Colonies of Sicily and Magna Graecia or What Could Have Happened in Methone | 165

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Roger D. Woodard Alphabet and Phonology at Methone: Beginning a Typology of Methone Alphabetic Symbols and an Alternative Hypothesis for Reading Hακεσάνδρō | 182 Christina Skelton Thoughts on the Initial Aspiration of HAKEΣANΔPO | 219 Anna Panayotou-Triantaphyllopoulou The Impact of Late Geometric Greek Inscriptions from Methone on Understanding the Development of Early Euboean Alphabet | 232 Julián Méndez Dosuna Methone of Pieria: a Reassessment of Epigraphical Evidence (with a Special Attention to Pleonastic Sigma) | 242

Part III: Graphê and Culture Niki Oikonomaki Local ‘Literacies’ in the Making: Early Alphabetic Writing and Modern Literacy Theories | 261 Alexandra Pappas Form Follows Function? Toward an Aesthetics of Early Greek Inscriptions at Methone | 285 Marek Węcowski Wine and the Early History of the Greek Alphabet. Early Greek Vase-Inscriptions and the Symposion | 309 Bibliography and Abbreviations | 329 Notes on Contributors | 360 General Index | 365 Index Locorum | 374

Introduction | 1

Jenny Strauss Clay, Irad Malkin and Yannis Z. Tzifopoulos

Introduction Jenny Strauss Clay, Irad Malkin and Yannis Z. Tzifopoulos Introduction

The key term in the title of our volume is Panhellenes, drawing on a complaint of Archilochus, a poet writing in the mid-seventh century BCE: “The misery of the Panhellenes has converged on Thasos.” Archilochus represents himself as having come to Thasos from Paros (Telesikles, the Parian founder of Thasos, was his father). The metropolis of Thasos was the community on the island of Paros, but as we see from Archilochus’ reference to Panhellenes converging on Thasos, many others joined too (Graham 1978, 61–98). The context of colonization, then, encouraged a man from Paros to articulate the identity of non-Parian migrants, arriving through networks unknown to us, to join in the new foundation. The wider term of reference for the identity of those coming is explicitly Hellenic (contra, pan- in a partitive, not inclusive, sense: Hall 2002, 132 with further references). Even without such explicit articulation, the variety of finds at Methone seems to justify the title of this book. The first publication of the exciting finds, which this volume follows up, discusses some twenty five new alphabetical inscriptions (aside from one hundred and sixty six non-alphabetic signs) and stresses the “panhellenic” aspect of the Eretrian colony through the varied provenance of the pots, the alphabet, and the dialect. For the alphabet, only one inscription seems not to be in an Eretrian/Euboean alphabet, no. 22 XSENI (contra Méndez Dosuna arguments, but he and Panayotou-Triantaphyllopoulou argue for Eretria for all twenty five; and cf. Janko). The argument presupposes that cups from Lesbos, Samos (the Samian N on an amphora before firing is a case in point), and elsewhere were bought and inscribed by Euboean settlers (not to mention that trading, using, and inscribing cups may have been discrete activities). We do not know to what extent the population of Euboea could sustain numerous activities all over the Mediterranean at the time. It is perhaps naive to suggest that only Euboeans were allowed to enter the Thermaic Gulf and Methone, or that only Euboeans knew how to scratch the letters of the alphabet. Until the Persian Wars and chiefly after Athens suppressed the Euboean revolt in mid fifth century BCE, we do not know how Methone fared. The area was a Persian satrapy after Dareios’ expansion to the West in the late sixth century BCE. What was Methone? Like a fossil embedded in rock, Plutarch’s late text Greek Questions 11 (Mor. 293b) contains information to which the Methone findings lend veracity. Eretrians, he says, first settled on Corcyra whence they were expelled by Corinthians. They first tried to return home to Eretria, and when re-

2 | Jenny Strauss Clay, Irad Malkin and Yannis Z. Tzifopoulos

fused they went on to found Methone in the Thermaic Gulf. The episode suggests that Methone was founded before 700 BCE, since the Corinthians performed their double act of settling both Syracuse and Corcyra around 733 BCE (or slightly later, for Corcyra). The synchronicity of Syracuse and Corcyra makes sense in terms of maritime imperatives: Corcyra was essential for sailing to Sicily from Greece, as ships, like those of the Athenian navy en route to the siege of Syracuse, would sail north in the Ionian Sea to Corcyra and then catch the NE winds directly to Sicily (otherwise the winds would have pushed mariners down to North Africa; Malkin 1998a, 78). Since the inscriptions at Methone date to ca. 700 or earlier, this seems to confirm the time-frame of Plutarch’s account. It also makes sense on more general grounds: the pan-Mediterranean settlement activity of both Chalcis and Eretria seems to have sharply declined after 700 (some would say the Lelantine war was the reason), so a pre-700 date seems probable in any case. Some scholars doubt the story in Plutarch (doubts based mostly on an argument of archaeological silence for Corcyra, a huge island with insufficient excavations), but now, with the dates from Methone, doubters may need to take a step back (cf. Malkin 1998b, 1–10). For those who do not doubt the story –and we see no a priori reason not to accept it– there is another, “panhellenic,” implication: in spite of the conventional image of Pithekoussai as hosting “the first western Greeks,” the “west” to which the Eretrians were sailing included both Pithekoussai and the contemporary (ca. 750?) Eretrian settlement on Corcyra. Pithekoussai was indeed “international.” One wonders what might have developed at Corcyra had the Eretrians succeeded in staying; we might have had another “panhellenic” situation instead of the more homogenous and exclusive Corinthian colonization that continued in North-Western Greece (see Graham 1964, 118–153). Some scholars regard the alphabetic evidence from Methone as indicating more strictly “Eretrian” (not panhellenic) identity; but should we expect a precise, eighth-century, alphabetic overlap between mother cities and apoikiai? Authors in this volume take different positions on this question. But we need to remember that just as Thasos was simultaneously both “Parian” and “panhellenic”, so too Methone should not have been exceptional. There is no contradiction here, since the following parameter needs to be taken into consideration: colonization kept enlarging the criterion of eligibility to join in a new settlement. It ranged from the narrow circle of a specific metropolis (such as “Corinthians” going to Syracuse) to “Greek” immigrants in general, while probably rendering them more “Greek” through such migrations. À la longue durée, the dynamics leading up to ever larger numbers of settlers would eventually be expressed in the Hellenistic era, when colonies became more distant, more heterogeneous, and when mother cities disappeared altogether. Much earlier, in

Introduction | 3

the Archaic period, a mother city would find it hard to send a plentiful supply of its men away to an apoikia, especially in cases such as Chalcis, Eretria, or Miletos, reputed to have founded numerous colonies with no apparent reservoir of manpower. Although often overlooked, this Hellenic extension is a major parameter of Archaic Greek colonization. To illustrate, two generations after Cyrene’s foundation, more immigrants were encouraged to come. The Delphic Oracle pronounced a panhellenic oracle addressed, expressly, not to the mother city but to “all the Greeks” (eis Hellenas pantas, Hdt. 4.159). So many came from all over that eventually redistribution and a renaming of tribes was implemented by an external arbitrator that Delphi was asked to send. There were three: (1) Therans (the original settlers) and perioikoi (“dwellers around”: perhaps local populations or mixed Greek-Libyan groups); (2) Peloponnesians and Cretans; (3) Islanders. In the new tribal division the original Theran nucleus dwindled to about one-sixth of Cyrene’s citizens even though its Theran identity, rituals (e.g., the Karneia) and the Theran founder-cult remained consistently during later centuries as a focus of collective reference. The alphabet of Cyrene was rather unified and it is almost certain that Cyrene “used the script of Thera” (Jeffery in LSAG, 319). This may serve as a test case for assumptions concerning “mixed” colonies (Dell’Oro). Examples for such an increase in the original nucleus abound across the chronological spectrum, thus rendering the “panhellenes” aspect at Methone more convincing: there were Naxians who joined the Chalcidians to found the earliest colony in Sicily (Hellanicus, FGrHist 4 F 82); there were Megarians who joined the Corinthian founder, Archias, at Syracuse (733 BCE; Strabo 6.2.4 C 270; Ps. Scymn. 278–80); the original settlers of Zancle “were followed later by a large body of colonists from Chalcis and the rest of Euboea who shared in the allotment of the land” (Thuc. 6.5). We hear of Samians and “other Ionians” colonizing Sicily (first at Kale Akte, then taking over Zancle, Thuc. 6.4.5), and so on. When Corinth announced its second colony to Epidamnos, aside from Corinthians, “whoever so wished” could join “on fair and equal terms” (Thuc. 1.26-27). The dynamics of migration and adaptation were rapid. Within a generation or two all “the misery of the Greeks” would become “Parians,” “Eretrians,” “Milesians,” or “Corinthians” thanks to processes of co-optation of the initial “funnel” through which all new immigrants poured in. What was this funnel? During the initial foundation the oikistes would normally establish the nomima of the colony, such as its tribal organization, its magistracies, and its sacred calendar. On the other hand, it is significant that no official decision would be made, or so it seems, concerning the dialect or the alphabet. This was not an essential element of nomima which the founder had “laid down” (tithemi is the

4 | Jenny Strauss Clay, Irad Malkin and Yannis Z. Tzifopoulos

verb commonly used by Thucydides; Malkin 2009, 373–394). And our period is probably too early for such matters (state decisions about the form of the alphabet such as the three-bar sigma are a relatively late and an Athenian phenomenon, and it remains an open question by what processes the local alphabets became homogenized). With regard to dialect, Thucydides (6.5.1) reports the case of Sicilian Himera: its official nomima were Chalcidian, but due to the later arrival of a group of Dorians the dialect became mixed, Chalcidic-Doric, as a process of natural evolution. The case is noteworthy in relation to some a-priori assumptions, also evident in this volume, about what to expect in a Greek settlement in terms of exact copying of the alphabetic forms prevalent in the mother city, or of employing local alphabetic idiosyncrasies as well. The more open question, referred to in this volume, is how systematic and consistent were alphabets in the eighth century? (Dell’Oro, Méndez Dosuna, Panayotou-Triantaphyllopoulou). The “Panhellenes” of Methone are also relevant to questions of pan-Mediterranean connectivity, beyond Greek circles (Kourou). The inscribed amphora jars which are plentiful and of variable types indicate cross Mediterranean links, “from Crete to Malaga” (Johnston), and their marks may be nothing more than numerical notations for trade purposes (Verdan). Their quantity and range are impressive (Kotsonas et al.). This is noteworthy, since in a world with no passenger ships, it was the trade routes and multi-directional, Mediterranean networks (especially since the ninth century) that can better explain the operative links through which various forms of the alphabet (Phoenician? Phrygian?) were disseminated. We note that at Methone more than six unincised Phoenician amphoras have been found. That early examples exist in Latium and Gabii illustrates the multi-directionality of such contacts (Kourou, Johnston, Janko, Papadopoulos, Verdan). Not only letter forms, but possibly also names imply Greek-Semitic connectivity (Woodward). Methone itself was a hub of interregional connectivity (not just Euboean) around the Thermaic Gulf and beyond. Trade in timber as well as metals, for example, seems to have been significant around the Thermaic Gulf; its availability not only answered the needs of shipbuilding but probably also encouraged it, implying more activity and widening horizons. The level of literacy as revealed by the Methone inscriptions is nothing less than astounding. The potters themselves seem to have been literate (Papadopoulos, Oikonomaki, Pappas) as well as those expected to read what was on the pot. Neither scribes, nor scholars, nor aristocrats: anachronistic assumptions that literacy was limited only to the elite or to professionals need to be reevaluated. Such early literacy, as revealed in Methone, should be understood on its own terms, not in comparison to the ancient Near East or to the Middle Ages.

Introduction | 5

The discovery of early abecedaria and graffiti among classes of people that until recently were assumed to be illiterate (e.g., the rock-cut inscriptions of Thera or herders’ graffiti around Mt. Hymettos), join the amazingly early inscriptions of Methone and call for re-assessment of the issue (Langdon 2005, 175–182; and 2015, 49–58). This issue (the circles of literacy and non-elite use) touches directly upon one of the major finds, the Cup of Hakesandros, which receives various linguistic and philological interpretations in this volume (Skelton, Woodard, Oikonomaki). The interpretation of the cup as belonging to the context of the symposion and its relation to other verse inscriptions on (mostly Euboean) cups, such as the “Cup of Nestor” from Pithekoussai (today’s Ischia in the Bay of Naples), allows us to ask about the social implications of the finds (Węcowski). At Pithekoussai the excavated tombs have no “aristocratic” characteristics (e.g., weapons) and, in general, the inscribed cups are mostly modest affairs. “Don’t steal me!” is a recurring statement on such cups. It refers not to expensive silver or bronze utensils but to clay pots, the price of which could not have been prohibitive although their specific value to their owners may have been significant. A more economically modest circle of participants (implying again a wider degree of literacy) may be evident. One may still insist on an “elite” context but, in the vein of Alain Duplouy’s (2006) re-assessment of what it meant by being an aristocrat (a state of mind, ambition, and lifestyle), a sympotic context is an attractive hypothesis, especially as the notion of “elite” seems flexible. When we re-direct the question as to the significance of the Methone finds for the history of the Greek alphabet, one implication seems momentous. The variety of the texts, meager as they are in total number, nevertheless indicates a high degree of sophistication and savoir faire in their deployment, which also touches upon literary beginnings (Clay 2016). There have always been scholars who insisted on an early date for the adoption of the alphabet (Janko: 900– 850 BCE), arguing for a date ca. 800 or earlier (Sass 2005). The Methone finds therefore reinforce such a conclusion. They not only add to our knowledge of the early geographical diffusion of the alphabet, but also attest to its diffusion both among social classes, discrete communities, and within a panhellenic context. Yet, our reevaluation is only now beginning.

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6 | Jenny Strauss Clay, Irad Malkin and Yannis Z. Tzifopoulos

Introduction | 7

| Part I: Graphê and Archaeology

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Transport Amphorae from Methone | 9

Antonis Kotsonas, Evangelia Kiriatzi, Xenia Charalambidou, Maria Roumpou, Noémi Suzanne Müller and Matthaios Bessios

Transport Amphorae from Methone: An Interdisciplinary Study of Production and Trade ca. 700 BCE A. Kotsonas, E. Kiriatzi, X. Charalambidou, M. Roumpou, N.S. Müller and M.Bessios Transport Amphorae from Methone

Abstract: Amongst the exceptionally rich finds recovered from the “Ypogeio” of Methone was a large assemblage of Aegean and other transport amphorae of the Early Iron Age and Archaic periods. The importance of this assemblage, which lies in the quantity and range of amphora types represented, and also in their early date, stimulated the project discussed in this paper, which implements interdisciplinary research protocols. This project proposes a holistic approach to Greek transport amphorae combining typological and epigraphical evidence with the results of petrographic and elemental analyses on the provenance of these vessels, and of organic residue analysis on their content. This approach can reshape our understanding of the production and distribution of transport amphorae, and also of trade and economy in early Greece.

Amongst the exceptionally rich finds that were recovered from the “Ypogeio” of Methone was a large and varied assemblage of Aegean and other transport amphorae of the Early Iron Age and Archaic periods (Bessios 2003; Bessios et al. 2004; Bessios et al. 2008; Methone Pierias I; Kotsonas 2012; Kotsonas 2015, 256). Indeed, transport amphorae dominate the corpus of inscribed pottery published in Methone Pierias I, as opposed to other functional categories of ceramics, which are much less represented (Kotsonas 2012, 222–224). Inscribed amphora types identified macroscopically include Thermaic, Corinthian, Attic and Euboean SOS, Cycladic, Samian, Milesian, Chian, Lesbian, in addition to roughly a dozen types of unknown provenance, which are poorly represented (Kotsonas 2012, 150–162, 184–219).1 The non-inscribed amphora material from the “Ypogeio” includes many more specimens of the well-known types in question, in addition to sev-

_____ 1 We think it is more accurate to refer to Thermaic type amphorae, Corinthian type amphorae etc., and we have maintained this format in the subtitles of this paper. However, in the text we use the shorter, traditional version for the sake of brevity. On Thermaic amphorae (also known as Catling’s type II amphorae, or North Aegean amphorae), see below. The amphorae of Milesian type tentatively labelled ‘Methonean’ in Kotsonas 2012, 150–154, have since been correctly identified as Milesian, as we noted in our oral presentation to the conference in 2012.

10 | A. Kotsonas, E. Kiriatzi, X. Charalambidou, M. Roumpou, N.S. Müller and M.Bessios

eral Phoenician amphorae (Bessios 2003, 449; Kasseri 2012; Kotsonas 2012, 238) and numerous pieces from thinly represented types of unknown provenance. Most of the amphorae from the “Ypogeio” come from the original filling of Phases I to III, which dates to ca. 700 BCE (Bessios 2012).2 More scanty is the amphora material from the overlying phases IV to VI, which represents very different activities in the 7th and 6th centuries BCE. Accordingly, the focus of this paper, and of our interdisciplinary study in general, is on the rich assemblage from the filling of ca. 700 BCE. The importance of this assemblage lies in the quantity and range of amphora types represented, but also in its early date. Scholars generally believe that the widespread production and distribution of Greek transport amphorae only began in the late 7th century BCE (e.g. Twede 2002, 98), with only few types dating earlier. Small groups of finds published from different Mediterranean areas, including Carthage, Spain and Israel (Docter 1997; Fantalkin/Tal 2010), suggested an earlier date for several more types, but these studies have not been given the attention they deserve. The assemblage from Methone, which is dated by a wide variety of fine-ware imports from Attica, Corinth, Euboea, and East Greece, re-affirms the early dates proposed by other scholars for different amphora types, and invites the rethinking of established assumptions about trade in the Early Iron Age. The importance of the amphora assemblage from Methone stimulated the present project of interdisciplinary research. This project is aimed at testing stylistic and macroscopic attributions on amphora provenance and traditional assumptions on amphora content through the targeted application of a combination of analytical techniques. Its overall objective rests on exploring holistically issues of typology, provenance, technology, and content by integrating traditional approaches, including macroscopic examination, typological classification and the study of inscriptions and graffiti, with applications of archaeological science, including petrographic, elemental and organic residue analyses. It is the first time that a project of such scope has been conducted on Greek transport amphorae of any period, and the best comparable works involve prehistoric Canaanite jars (see the Canaanite Amphorae Project, led by Margaret Serpico and Janine Bourriau)3 and Aegean stirrup jars (Haskell et al. 2011), as well as Roman amphorae (Pecci/CauOntiveros 2010, 2). Nevertheless, several scholars, most notably Alan Johnston (Johnston/Jones 1978; de Domingo/Johnston 2003; Johnston 2004), Pierre Dupont (1982, 1998, 2010), Ian Whitbread (1995),

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2 A fuller overview of the stratigraphy of the “Ypogeio” will be provided by Bessios in a forthcoming volume on the excavations at Methone, 2003–2013. 3 http://www.amarnaproject.com/pages/recent_projects/material_culture/canaanite.shtml.

Transport Amphorae from Methone | 11

and Mark Lawall (1995, 2011a, 2011b) have integrated archaeological and archaeometric research in studies of Greek amphorae of Archaic to Hellenistic date. A wide range of amphora types were sampled from the “Ypogeio”. Macroscopically, these types include Corinthian, Attic and possibly Euboean SOS, Milesian, Samian, Chian, Lesbian, Thermaic and Phoenician amphorae, in addition to some of the types of unknown provenance, which are thinly represented. A total of 75 samples were selected for petrographic analysis with thin sections and elemental analysis (through wavelength dispersive X-ray fluorescence) to address questions of provenance and production. The petrographic analysis adheres to – and elaborates on – Whitbread’s (1995) seminal study, and is based on the extensive reference collection of the Fitch Laboratory, British School at Athens. Additionally, 45 of the samples in question were also subjected to organic residue analysis using combined gas chromatography-mass spectrometry at the laboratories of the Harokopio University in Athens, in accordance with established protocols for the extraction of lipids from archaeological samples (Evershed et al. 1990; Stern et al. 2000; Roumpou et al. 2013). In this paper we provide a short and preliminary report on only four types of amphorae encountered at the “Ypogeio” of Methone: Chian, Lesbian, Attic SOS and Thermaic. The analytical data and interpretations of the entire material sampled by our project will be made available to readers in the near future, as the full publication of our work is forthcoming.4

Chian type amphorae Chian amphorae were quite common in the “Ypogeio” of Methone and this applies not only to the filling of Phases I to III, which concern us here, but also to the overlying layers of Phases IV to VI. Twelve inscribed pieces of Chian amphorae, representing a minimum of six individual vessels, were recently published (Methone Pierias I, 368–369 no. 21, 461–464 nos. 127–131, 498–501; Kotsonas 2012, 201–205). Early Chian amphorae stand out on the basis of their fabric and morphology (including the thick white slip that is peculiar to the type) and are widely distributed in the Aegean and the Mediterranean (Kotsonas 2012, 201– 205, with references; Bîrzescu 2012, 49–90; Filis 2012, 262–268; Sezgin 2012, 83– 135). There are several major studies of Chian amphorae, including publications of petrographic and elemental analyses (Dupont 1982, 194–198; Jones 1986,

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4 Additionally, the publication of the entire amphora assemblage from the “Ypogeio” is in preparation by Kotsonas.

12 | A. Kotsonas, E. Kiriatzi, X. Charalambidou, M. Roumpou, N.S. Müller and M.Bessios

283–284; Whitbread 1995, 143; Dupont 1998, 146; de Domingo/Johnston 2003, 33–34). Ten pieces from the “Ypogeio” of Methone were sampled for the purposes of our project. All samples reflect a single technological tradition and a single coarse fabric with inclusions of predominantly sedimentary and metasedimentary origin and very small amounts of volcanic fragments, indicating a common geological origin for the raw materials used in all cases. The pieces from Methone are compatible with the geology of Chios and compare well with other Chian white-slipped amphorae analysed previously (Whitbread 1995, 135– 153, Chian Fabric Class 1; de Domingo/Johnston 2003, 30, 33–34, 41; Moschonissioti et al. 2005, 255, 263–264).5 The largely undifferentiated geology of the island does not allow for the straightforward localization of specific workshops. Following Whitbread, we suggest that a potential source, for at least some of the Chian amphorae from Methone could lie at the vicinity of Emborio, in the south part of the island, where Neogene sediments, including clays, co-exist with small outcrops of volcanic rocks (cf. Whitbread 1995, 138). Five of the ten Chian amphorae involved in the project were also sampled for organic residue analysis, which offered interesting insights into their content. Chian amphorae are generally thought to have carried wine. This assumption is based on literary (but not epigraphic) sources on the reputation of Chios as a wine producing island (Dupont 1998, 148, 151; Demesticha 2011; Filis 2012, 267). Lawall, however, has raised the possibility that Chian amphorae were used for the transportation of a variety of products (Lawall 2011a, 27). This is supported by DNA analysis applied to a Chian amphora from a shipwreck of Classical date, where ancient genetic plant material of olive and oregano were identified (Hansson/Foley 2008). It has also been reported that Chian amphorae recovered from another shipwreck were filled with olive pits (Barron 1986). Interestingly, the residue preserved in the Chian amphorae sampled from Methone largely consists of fatty acids, with C16:0 (palmitic acid), C18:0 (stearic acid) and the monounsaturated C18:1 being predominant (the last was very pronounced in several cases). Additionally, in at least two samples fatty acids are detected along with dehydroabietic and abietic acids, and diterpenoids that characterise plant resins (Pollard/Heron 2008, 239). The presence of fatty acids in general indicates that the original produce was either plant oil or animal

_____ 5 Despite the similarity in the composition of all analysed samples, analysis with wavelength dispersive X-ray flourescence distinguished between the samples from the original filling of Phases I to III, which date ca. 700 BCE, and pieces from the overlying phases IV to VI of the late 7th and 6th century BCE, which were sampled for comparative purposes. This result needs further investigation and could reflect use of different raw materials sources or even the output of different workshops through time.

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fat.6 The identification of residues of animal and/or plant lipids in the vessels sampled challenges traditional ideas regarding the content of these vessels. Furthermore, the presence of residues derived both from animal and/or plant lipids and tree resins in the same vessel provokes further discussion on the use and reuse of the amphorae. Also, it might indicate a differentiation between the linings of the vessel’s wall and the actual content (Beck/Smart/Ossenkop 1989).

Lesbian type amphorae Lesbian amphorae were roughly as common as Chian amphorae in the “Ypogeio”. Nine inscribed Lesbian amphorae, representing a minimum of four individual vessels, were recently published (Methone Pierias I, 345–347 no. 4, 465– 470 no. 132–139; Kotsonas 2012, 205–209). All published pieces, and generally all Lesbian amphorae from the “Ypogeio” belong to the grey series (the red series is not represented). These vessels stand out on the basis of their grey coarse fabric and body profile, and are widely distributed in the Aegean and the Mediterranean (Kotsonas 2012, 205–209, with references; Bîrzescu 2012, 25–35; Sezgin 2012, 201–243). There are several major studies of Lesbian amphorae, including publications of petrographic and elemental analyses (Clinkenbeard 1982; Dupont 1982, 201–203; Lawall 1995, 196–204; Whitbread 1995, 154–164; Dupont 1998, 156; de Domingo/Johnston 2003, 31–32, 35–36; Dupont 2010; Fantalkin/Tal 2010; Lungu 2010; Lungu 2011). Eleven pieces of Lesbian amphorae from the “Ypogeio” were sampled for the purposes of our project. These samples represent two sub-types identified macroscopically: the light grey, and the dark grey ones, which were thought to be made of the same fabric (Kotsonas 2012, 205–207). The analysis confirmed the macroscopic impression that the samples form a broad compositional (coarse) group with inclusions predominantly associated with a distinct geological unit in Lesbos, the extensive formations of ignimbrites. As a result of a rapid volcanic eruption, these are deposits of volcanic ash with pumice and lithic fragments, which occur across the central part of the island, from around the modern village of Mandamados in the northeast to the east coast of the gulf of Kalloni in the south (see the geological map in Whitbread 1995, 157, fig. 4.15). Despite the overall similarity of the analyzed samples,

_____

6 In archaeological samples, degradation processes and the decomposition or elimination of compounds affect the chemical composition of goods originally transported/stored/manipulated. Therefore, assignment to a specific source is usually not straightforward and should be attempted with caution (Evershed 2008).

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there are consistent differences among the two macroscopic sub-groups, both technological and compositional, potentially reflecting products of at least two distinct production units in the vicinity of the ignimbrite zone. This picture is largely confirmed by the results of the elemental analysis. Notably the fabric of the Lesbian amphorae from Methone does not match the (at least) three fabrics identified by previous petrographic analyses on Lesbian amphorae of later date, by Whitbread (1995, 160–161), de Domingo/Johnston (2003, 35–36), and Pentedeka/Georgakopoulou/Kiriatzi (2012, 151–153). These previously identified fabrics suggest different production locations for Lesbian amphorae, on eastern and western Lesbos and perhaps also on the opposite coast of Asia Minor (cf. Dupont 1998, 158; Dupont 2010, 41–42; Lungu 2011, 189). On the contrary, the vases from Methone are attributed to central Lesbos, which is characterized by ignimbrite formations. Among the known ancient cities of Lesbos, Arisbe lies closer to the geological zone of ignimbrites, while Methymna, which is situated at a close – but considerable – distance, falls within the zone of andesites. If the fabric represented at Methone was indeed produced at Arisbe, its absence among the later Lesbian amphorae noted above could be explained by the historically documented destruction of Arisbe by the Methymnians some time before the mid-5th century BCE (Herodotus 1.151.2; cf. Spencer 1995, 289). Lesbian wine and viniculture on the island is praised in Archaic and later literature (relevant references are collected in Clinkenbeard 1982, 254–256). Accordingly, the amphorae are often taken to have contained Lesbian wine, even though some scholars have also entertained the possibility of olive oil, and two Lesbian amphorae from the Black Sea bear graffiti which suggest they were carrying oil (Dupont 1998, 158, 161–162; Dupont 2010, 38–39, 42–45; Lungu 2010, 52–53, 57, 60, note 84; Lungu 2011, 184, 187 note 50; Kotsonas 2012, 295, note 1408). Four out of seven vessels from Methone submitted for analysis yielded a series of abietane and pimarane compounds. Abietic and pimaric acids are diterpenoids that constitute the main compounds found in resins of the families of Coniferae (i.e. Pinaceae) and Leguminosae (Mills/White 1994, 95; Colombini et al. 2000). The identification of resins in archaeological vessels is usually interpreted as evidence for resinated wine (McGovern/Mirzoian/Hall 2009, 2013). Plant resins, however, were also widely applied as adhesives, varnishes and protective coatings, and may be particularly well preserved in various contexts due to their hydrophobicity (Pollard/Heron 2008, 236, 237). Thus, the presence of plant resins alone in the samples under discussion does not necessarily establish direct evidence in support of the use of these vessels for the transportation of wine. Nevertheless, this finding on the Lesbian am-

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phorae from Methone obviously recalls the testimony of the literary sources on Lesbian wine. It is also worth noting that fatty acids, as well as fatty acids along with diterpenoid compounds were identified in at least two of the Lesbian amphorae sampled. The differentiation in the lipidic content preserved between vessels in this case (but also in the case of Chian amphorae in the previous section) challenges the traditional association of a single amphora type with a single product, which remains popular despite recent criticism (Lawall 2011a, 23–25; Lawall 2011b, 43; Kotsonas 2012, 186).

The SOS type amphorae SOS amphorae are less common than Chian and Lesbian amphorae at the “Ypogeio” of Methone. They are represented, however, both in the filling of Phases I to III, which concerns us here, and the overlying layers of Phases IV to VI. Fifteen inscribed pieces have already been published (Methone Pierias I, 349–350 no. 6, 371–372 no. 24, 442–450 nos. 104–113, 496–497 nos. 173–175; Kotsonas 2012, 188–194). The SOS amphorae are named after the characteristic neck decoration they carry, and they are made in a variety of fabrics (Kotsonas 2012, 188– 194, with references). SOS amphorae have attracted several studies, which distinguish between Attic and non-Attic pieces (Johnston/Jones 1978; Jones 1986, 706–712; de Domingo/Johnston 2003, 32–33, 37–38, 44; Kotsonas 2012, 188–194; Pratt 2015). Based on the macroscopic examination of their fabric, the vast majority of the SOS amphorae from the “Ypogeio” were identified as Attic. However, three subgroups were distinguished on the basis of the coarseness of the material (Kotsonas 2012, 189–190). Nine samples were selected for compositional analysis. Eight of them indicate a common source and a common recipe that crosscuts two of the macroscopic sub-groups, which were confirmed to belong to one fabric. This is fine/ semi-fine, with distinct red textural concentration features and metamorphic inclusions which are compatible with the geology of Attica (Johnston/Jones 1978; Papadeas 2003). These vessels form a tight compositional group that compares well with other Attic pottery from different sites, which was recently analyzed at the Fitch Laboratory through petrographic and/or elemental analysis (Moschonissioti et al. 2005, 254–255, 263; Pentedeka/Georgakopoulou/Kiriatzi 2012, 162–163). Only one of the samples, which represents the coarser of the macroscopic groups, stands out as distinctively different, on the basis of both petrographic and elemental analysis, and may be tentatively associated with a

16 | A. Kotsonas, E. Kiriatzi, X. Charalambidou, M. Roumpou, N.S. Müller and M.Bessios

central Euboean workshop. Ongoing research at the Fitch Laboratory on pottery production at Eretria and Chalcis will hopefully provide a firmer basis for distinguishing between Attic and Euboean products. SOS amphorae are traditionally considered as oil containers, although some scholars argue that they were also, or solely, used for wine (see mostly: Docter 1991. Kotsonas 2012, 194. Pratt 2015, 17). A few graffiti and inscriptions on SOS amphorae from Pithekoussai and Megara Hyblaea suggest other contents (Bartonĕk/Buchner 1995, 170–171 nos. 28–30; Gras 1987, 47 note 44; cf. Kotsonas 2012, 194). Our study involving the analysis of seven SOS amphorae does not settle the relevant debate, but enriches it in an interesting way. The results produced from five vessels provide evidence for the preservation of beeswax residues. The components detected in the other two vases could also be derived from beeswax, although contamination issues do not allow further assessment of these samples. Beeswax is a recurrent find in organic residue analysis of pottery vessels. It is hydrophobic and less vulnerable to degradation processes and might survive for centuries in the ceramic matrix (Heron et al. 1994; Evershed et al. 1997). Its use in antiquity is poorly known because of the paucity of literary and archaeological evidence for the development of insulation technologies for the transportation and trade of liquid and solid products. In transport and storage vessels, this could have been used as a coating medium to enable better preservation of the content, insulating the porous matrix. Organic residue analysis can be a valuable tool for the investigation of such practices. Beeswax residues were detected in SOS amphorae, but also occur in Thermaic amphorae.

Thermaic type amphorae This is by far the best-represented amphora type in the “Ypogeio” of Methone and nine inscribed pieces, which represent a minimum of four individual vessels, were recently published (Methone Pierias I, 368–369, 416–426 nos. 77–85; Kotsonas 2012, 153–162). The Thermaic amphorae are also known as Catling’s type II amphorae (after Richard Catling 1998, 166–172) and North Aegean amphorae (Papadopoulos 2005, 576; Gimatzidis 2010, 252–274), while several more names are found in Greek scholarship. Nevertheless the term Thermaic best fits the current nomenclature of Greek amphorae by emphasizing the core area of production (as explained in Kotsonas 2012, 154–155). These vessels are characterized by coarse fabric, peculiarities in vessel form, and fairly standardized painted decoration (Catling 1998, 166–172; Gimatzidis 2010, 99–100, 258–262; Kotsonas 2012, 153–162). Thermaic amphorae are widely distributed within the

Transport Amphorae from Methone | 17

Thermaic Gulf and, to an extent, across the northern Aegean, from the early 8th to the beginning of the 7th century BCE. The type is much less widespread in the southern Aegean, but by the late 8th century it also reached distant sites, from Pithekoussai in the bay of Naples, to Bassit in coastal Syria (the latest distribution map is offered in Kotsonas 2012, 159–160, but Richard Catling has identified unpublished pieces in several more sites). Since the specific type of amphora was identified relatively recently, it has not been the subject of much analytical research yet (petrography: Moschonissioti et al. 2005, 250, 259–260, 264; elemental analysis: Mommsen et al. 2001, 195–196, 203 no. 118). Ten fragments of Thermaic amphorae from the lower deposit at Methone were sampled for compositional analysis. This work is based on comparable, completed or ongoing petrographic analysis of samples from a number of sites in the region by Kiriatzi and her collaborators (Moschonissioti et al. 2005; Kiriatzi et al. 2015) and suggests the existence of at least four distinct fabrics of Thermaic amphorae, potentially associated with production locations around the Thermaic Gulf, across an area extending from the Kassandra peninsula in the Chalcidice to what is now the western edge of the Thessaloniki alluvial plain, but was the northwest coastline of the Gulf in antiquity. These different fabrics are all characterized by sand inclusions associated predominantly with metamorphic rocks present mainly along the east coast of the Thermaic Gulf and/or, more rarely, volcanic rock outcroppings in more distant areas to the northwest of the Gulf, and transported and deposited in the sediments of the coastal alluvial plain of Thessaloniki (Tranos et al. 2007). At Methone, the majority of the samples analyzed belong to a single fabric group that contains metamorphic inclusions and rarely grains of altered volcanic rocks. However, specimens of at least two other distinct fabrics have been identified albeit in very limited numbers. The dominant fabric among the Thermaic amphorae at Methone shows significant internal variation, both in terms of petrographic and elemental characterisation, and reflects the use of raw material sources located most probably along the north-northwestern coastline of the Thermaic Gulf, based on the rare presence of altered volcanic rock fragments. At present, the production of such amphorae at Methone itself cannot be safely supported or completely excluded. There is no literary and epigraphic evidence on the content of the Thermaic amphorae. Nevertheless, several scholars take the morphological standardization of the amphorae to be indicative of standardized content, which is identified as oil (Tiverios 1998, 250) or wine (Tiverios 2012, 180). Arguments for wine find some support in the contextual association of these vessels with grape pips at Karabournaki (Valamoti 2003, 202–203). Nonetheless, it has been previously proposed that these vessels contained a range of contents (Moschonissioti et al.

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2005, 250), which seems more likely. Unfortunately, plasticiser contamination caused by post-excavation treatment obscures the results from several of the six Thermaic amphorae from Methone sampled for organic residue analysis. The variety of residues identified could also suggest variety in content. Fatty acids are detected in all the samples analysed with C16:0 and C18:0 prevailing. The diagnostic value of the fatty acids identified is limited, since they are widespread in nature, except for one case where plant sterols and also mono- and diunsaturated acids bearing 18 carbon atoms were detected. This result suggests the plant origin of the residue. The analysis of two of the amphorae sampled revealed beeswax residues, probably applied as coating, a feature already discussed with reference to Attic SOS amphorae. It is interesting that this technology occurs on these two amphora types, particularly since Catherine Pratt (2015) has recently drawn attention to the morphological similarities between them. The results obtained give rise to several issues regarding technological choices in relation to insulation practices and their transfer as evidence of interaction. Notably, the same practice has been identified in the analysis of storage vessels from different sites in central Macedonia, which date to the Late Bronze Age and the Early Iron Age (Roumpou et al. 2003; Margomenou/Roumpou 2011). It is very difficult to provide specific answers on the origins and transfer of this technology at this stage of research with just a limited number of samples. It is clear, however, that this technology for the preservation of foodstuffs was used in Aegean transport amphorae already in the 8th century BCE. The variability in the residue extracted from Thermaic amphorae is also attested by the identification of diterpenoids (abietane and pimarane compounds) in two of the vessels sampled. The presence of plant resins and its significance for the identification of the content(s) of the vessels has been discussed in previous sections, but also applies to the case of Thermaic amphorae.

Conclusions Early Greek transport amphorae have not attracted the attention they deserve. We have argued that holistic approaches combining typological and epigraphical evidence with scientific data can revolutionize our understanding of their areas of production, their manufacturing technology, the range of contents they held, and aspects of trade and the early Greek economy. We hope that our collaborative work on the early transport amphorae from Methone will contribute to this direction and shed light on the archaeology of the site and on Protoarchaic trade and interaction in general.

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Acknowledgements This interdisciplinary project (2010–2015) was funded by the Centre for the Greek Language and the Hellenic Ministry of Education’s Operational Programme “Education and Lifelong Learning”, co-funded by the EU (European Social Fund) and the National Strategic Reference Framework (NSRF 2007– 2013). We are grateful to Yannis Tzifopoulos for securing the funds necessary for the project, and to the colleagues at the Centre, John Kazazis and Antonios Rengakos, who have appreciated the significance of this research. We are also grateful to the Harokopio University of Athens and Nick Kalogeropoulos for providing access to instruments and laboratory equipment and genuine support to this project. We have benefited from discussions with John Papadopoulos and Sarah Morris, co-directors of the Methone excavation project. Athena Athanassiadou and Kostas Noulas of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Pieria have offered practical support and advice on Methone and the “Ypogeio” while the staff at the Apotheke in Makrygialos has facilitated our research in many different ways.

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Nota Kourou

The Archaeological Background of the Earliest Graffiti and Finds from Methone Nota Kourou The Archaeological Background of the Earliest Graffiti and Finds from Methone

Abstract: In view of the large number of graffiti from Methone a discussion of the earliest Greek graffiti and their context in the Aegean is taken up. Some isolated examples of early graffiti in the Greek alphabet found in central Italy are also taken into account. The invention and the circulation of the Greek alphabet are seen against the trade networks current in the Aegean in MG and LG periods. These early networks involved, beyond Cypriots, Phoenicians and other Near Easterners, who were trying their first travels in central and western Mediterranean and established emporia and colonies. These complicated network patterns in the Mediterranean that start in the late ninth and develop dynamically in the eighth century form the archaeological background of the first graffiti at Methone.

Recent archaeological research in northern Greece has revealed a number of interesting Early Iron Age coastal sites having contact with or reflecting influence from central and eastern Greece, but the amount and variety of imported pottery at Methone, coming from all over the Aegean and beyond, is surprisingly large.1 Equally remarkable is the number of pot marks and graffiti, including 25 alphabetical graffiti, discovered at the site. This unusual concentration of imported and inscribed material not only updates our perception of early Greek literacy and culture, but it also enhances our understanding of sea-routes and maritime networks in northern Aegean during the Late Geometric and Archaic periods.2 The excavated site at the northwestern inmost part of the Thermaic gulf was apparently an important and crucial anchorage for the maritime transport of the region and possibly linked to significant land routes.3 The startling activity of the site is normally credited to its identification with the Euboean colony of Methone, established by Eretrians ca. 733/2 BCE.4 But in the wider area of the Thermaic gulf and more specifically in the neighboring

_____ 1 Cf. Methone Pierias I. 2 The chronological system followed here, both for relative and absolute dates, is that advanced by Coldstream 1968, 330. For problems of absolute dating cf. Kourou 2008. 3 Cf. also, Bessios 2010, 106; Methone Pierias I, 13–41. 4 For a historical overview of the Euboean colony of Methone cf. Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, 13–17.

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coastal Pieria, imported Greek pottery and influence are attested long before that time and evidently contributed to the evolution of the area and possibly to the rise of the site.5 The finds from Methone present the image of a Macedonian site fully aware of and responsive to current advances in the Greek world. It is hoped, therefore, that the following brief reappraisal of the archaeological background of the area in relation to contemporary social and economic changes in the Aegean might offer some answers for the reasons that triggered the rise of the site or the conditions that facilitated its development.

Writing in the Aegean before the Late Geometric period The earliest graffiti from Methone date to the end of the eighth century.6 By the Late Geometric II period, alphabetic writing had already spread widely in the Greek world. Localization and standardization of letter writing had been shaped in the main, and writing was starting to achieve its full potential. When exactly it was adopted, however, is still debated, both on literary and archaeological grounds. But its diffusion all over the Greek world is easily estimated, on recent archaeological evidence, to have taken place towards the end of Middle Geometric II and during the Late Geometric I period.7 The invention of the alphabet constitutes a major episode in Greek history, and its explanation as an isolated, albeit significant, event is unfair. The reintroduction of writing in the Aegean forms a multifaceted historical episode closely linked to social and cultural advances of Early Iron Age societies. But its formation is primarily the result of a long economic process of contacts, links and exchanges between Greeks and Near Easterners that over the years made the need for writing imperative.8 It is also the consequence of an extensive and complicated socio-political development, only vaguely reflected in material culture. Imported pottery and graffiti are perhaps the precise media, through which the adoption of writing and its preparatory or early steps can be traced archaeologically. For this reason, the Middle Geometric II period to which at present the earliest graffiti date is reasonably anticipated as the time during

_____ 5 For recent finds in the area cf. Bessios 2010. 6 Cf. Methone Pierias I, nos. 1–22, 26–161 (mainly belonging to the end of eighth and the beginning of the seventh century BCE). 7 Cf. Theurillat 2007. 8 Cf. Röllig 1998, 368 for the role of trade in the development of writing.

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which the Greek alphabet was adopted.9 But the paucity of graffiti from securely dated Middle Geometric contexts complicates the issue. The rapid diffusion of writing, mainly during the Late Geometric I period, was apparently activated by the needs of the ever-increasing transactions among the newly founded city-states and the intensification of overseas travels. But it was also greatly accelerated by the widespread mobility of craftsmen and merchants, who were initially the main users of writing in the Aegean. It has been claimed that the Greek alphabet’s superior analysis of sound may have “placed the skill of writing and reading within the reach of children” and so put literacy on sail.10 A few cases of poetic verses in hexameter included in the surviving corpus of Late Geometric graffiti imply a form of literacy at least in some places.11 On archaeological evidence, however, writing in the Late Geometric period was mainly employed by craftsmen or traders for signing their products,12 which is precisely what results from the Methone finds, as well. Secure contextual evidence of Greek alphabetic writing predating the Late Geometric period is not only sparse, but frequently also uncertain. One of the few known examples is a graffito from the cemetery of Osteria dell’Osa at Gabii in Latium.13 The graffito is incised on a small local impasto flask and consists of five letters commonly recognized as belonging to the Greek alphabet. Reading and meaning of the inscription (as EYΛΙΝ, i.e. Εὔλινος) remains debatable, but there is a consensus on its being an early local experiment using the Greek alphabet. D. Ridgway has explained it as “part of the pre-colonial exchanges that brought Euboean types of Geometric painted skyphoi to native Early Iron Age contexts in the West” and presumably achieved an early circulation of the Greek alphabet in the central Mediterranean.14 The flask was found in a ritual deposit at a grave assigned to Latium IIB phase, which largely coincides with the Greek Middle Geometric II period, and which is thought to have lasted to about 775 BCE, the latest date for the grave and the flask.15 In the Aegean, evidence for the use of the Greek alphabet during the Middle Geometric II period is not entirely missing, but it usually comes from contexts not securely dated. The most reliable example is a small sherd, an ostracon,

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9 Coldstream 1977, 297–8; Voutiras 2012. 10 Cf. Havelock 1982, 83. 11 Cf. Coldstream 1990 and 1977, 298–99; Havelock 1982. 12 Kourou 2015. For early craftsmen’s signatures from the Aegean cf. e.g. NAXΣIOΣ on an early seventh century Naxian sherd (Lambrinoudakis 2001, 19 fig. 10) or ΚΑΛΛΙΚΛΕΑΣ ΠΟΙΑΣΕ on a candlestick from Ithaka (Robertson 1948, 89 pl. 39). 13 Ridgway 1996 (with previous bibliography). 14 Ridgway 1996, 87. Cf. also Lazzarini 1999. 15 Cf. Ridgway, 1996, 91, who estimates it to have lasted to about 770 BCE.

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from the sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros at Eretria, which was found in a context dating in all probability to the Middle Geometric II period.16 It comes from a closed vase and the inscription was incised on its internal side, hence it was presumably made after the pot was broken. The reading and meaning of the carelessly scratched letters are uncertain, but the signs of this fragmentary inscription belong undoubtedly to the Greek alphabet. Thus the Eretria graffito, dated by context to the first part of the eighth century, represents the earliest surviving inscription on a Greek pot in the Aegean. Another Greek alphabetic inscription that may well be of the same date is on a fragment of a Naxian vase, on which the excavator reads a name in the genitive: “Ἁλοκιέ ος”.17 The sherd was found in a mixed deposit at the site of the geometric cemetery of Grotta on Naxos, and thus can be dated only by style. It belongs to a Middle Geometric II open vase, a crater, of the important class of Attic and Atticizing circle vases well known from the islands in the Middle Geometric period.18 The date of the inscription though, and whether it was added before or after the vase went out of use, remains controversial. But even if the graffito was incised on a small fragment after the vase was broken, this should not have been necessarily much later than its first use as a funerary marker in the cemetery during the Middle Geometric II period. The practice of writing on an ostracon was frequent in ancient Greece, and usually the chronological distance between the time of the vase’s use and that of the graffito was very small. Evidence for the use of writing in the Aegean before the Late Geometric period is also provided by a fragmentary cup of Middle Geometric I type from Eretria.19 The cup, which was found in a Middle Geometric II context, is of local, Euboean, manufacture, but it bears a small inscription in Semitic writing incised on its outer face. Foreign inscribed objects had been undoubtedly a casual import in the Greek world long before the Middle Geometric period and they continued to be so later.20 They constitute significant evidence of contact between the Aegean and the outer world, but they do not necessarily imply know-

_____ 16 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan, 2005, 75 no. 64; Theurillat 2007, 335; Verdan 2013, 102 no. 389 pl. 101 “dépôt fluvial, phase I ? (sond.99.7)”. 17 Labrinoudakis 1981, 294 pl. 201a. 18 For this class of vases, cf. Kourou 1997 and 2001. 19 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan, 2005, 76 no. 66; Theurillat 2007, 341 fig. 2; Verdan 2013, 21 no. 390 pl. 101. 20 Cf. Amadasi Guzzo 1987; Kourou 2004, 17–19; Bourogianis/Ioannou 2012, 9. The earliest imported object with a foreign inscription known from a post-palatial Aegean context is on a bronze bowl from a Cnossian grave (grave J at Teke) with multiple burials, but the bowl according to the excavators was associated with a late tenth century burial cf. Amadasi Guzzo 1987, 13–16.

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ledge or acquaintance with the writing system used on the imported object. The case of a foreign inscription on a locally made vase, however, is entirely different, as it authenticates in the best possible way communication and familiarity with foreigners or their language and script. In this sense, an incised mark on a Greek vase that resembles a Phoenician or Aramaic sign could be just as significant for considering aspects of foreign presence as any other imported object.21 For this reason, the Eretria cup with the Semitic inscription is considered to provide decisive evidence for the circulation of foreign scripts, and consequently people, in the Greek world well before the Late Geometric period.22 Thus, it represents a major episode in the successive stages of the development of Greek literacy as a result of mobility of people and ideas in the Aegean. It is a kind of prelude to the first attempts of Greek writing at Eretria in the Middle Geometric II period,23 which coincide with the earliest stage of the institution of the polis and possibly the increase of maritime networks imposed by the new system of the city-state.

Trade networks at Late Geometric Methone During the Early Iron Age several forms of networks are attested in the Aegean, including religious associations in contact functioning as networks.24 Maritime networks initially operated simply as contact networks, but in time some of them evolved into quasi-economic networks. These are usually labeled trade networks, although they refer to any kind of exchange and barter economy of pre-monetary societies. The concept of a trade network implies mobility and

_____

21 For a possible mark of this kind incised on an attic Proto-Geometric amphora, cf. Kourou 2002a, 76 fig. X. 22 The surviving examples of local Greek pots bearing an inscription in a foreign language are extremely rare and they are mostly of a later, seventh century date. The group counts two sherds from Cos (Bourogiannis/Ioannou 2012), a sherd from Ialysos, Rhodes found in a seventh century context, but claimed on paleaographic reasons as belonging to the eighth century (Amadasi Guzzo 1987). For an Etruscan bucchero from Ialysos, Rhodes with a graffito in Greek, cf. Kourou 2015, 253 fig. 9. For a Carian graffito on a later Attic vase, cf. Tzanavari/Christidis 1995. For a graffito in Cyprosyllabic script on an SOS amphora, cf. Vokotopoulou 1995. For Greek vases from Pithekoussai with a non-Greek inscription, cf. Bartoněk/Buchner 1998, 187–189. On this issue, cf. also Bourogiannis 2015. 23 Cf. Theurillat 2007 who also mentions the problems caused by the new dating of the Gordion inscriptions, which seem to suggest the Middle Geometric II as the time of the first attempts at writing in the Aegean. Cf. Muscarella 2003; Brixhe 2004a. Cf. also, Voutiras 2012. 24 For networks and network theory, cf. Malkin 2011; Malkin et al. 2009. Cf. also, Gillis et al. 1995.

The Archaeological Background of the Earliest Graffiti and Finds from Methone | 25

contact between regions, but it also designates a process and a mechanism aiming at profitable dealing. Gift exchange, which was a familiar economic strategy in early societies with a centralized political system,25 involves a network too, but a network of contacts, not that of an intentional and planned commercial exchange. Trade in the modern sense of the term is “virtually impossible in a pre-monetary society,”26 which was presumably based entirely on barter economy. Thus, the term trade network in pre-monetary societies in its usual archaeological connotation designates a system of individuals or institutions linked to carry out or control and support a common cause for profit. The finds from Methone, and above all the number of transport amphorae, indicate a Late Geometric port full of activity receiving visitors from many places, possibly also from the Phoenician world. This implies a complex system of sea routes and maritime networks active in northern Aegean at the time.27 The imported Geometric pottery found at Methone includes not only a considerable number of Greek transport vases from various sites, but also a large variety of fine wares, while local cooking pots are also plentiful. Five Phoenician transport amphorae have been published,28 whereas a number of small pots of “possibly Phoenician origin” are mentioned.29 An offhand evaluation, based merely on the recent publication of the inscribed material, delineates the portrait of a busy port with visitors arriving from all over the Aegean at least. The biggest quantity of pottery comes from Macedonian centers including a number of wares claimed as local “Methonean”.30 Imported Euboean vases abound, as do Macedonian fine wares in Euboean styles. A range of Eastern Greek, Ionian, Chian, and other wares along with a number of Attic and Corinthian vases, including a few sherds of Thapsos class pottery in a characteristic Corinthian clay,31 complete the range of imports. There is no doubt that the provenance of a pot does not necessarily coincide with the place of origin of the person who carries it, but in Early Iron Age Aegean vases were normally transferred on boats usually sailing within maritime networks, in which Euboeans and Phoenicians frequently had a decent share. The discovery of sixteen bullion balance weights of Near Eastern origin in a ninth century tomb at Lefkandi32 indicate direct commercial dealings between

_____ 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Cf. Morris 1986; Voutsaki 1995. Descoeudres 2008, 339. Cf. Methone Pierias I, 124 map 1. Adam-Veleni/Stefani 2012, 161–162 nos. 109–111 (three depicted). Cf. Kotsonas in Methone Pierias I, 58. Kotsonas in Methone Pierias I, 150. Cf. Kotsonas in Methone Pierias I, 72 figs 18–19. Cf. Kroll 2008.

26 | Nota Kourou

Euboeans and Phoenicians apparently taking place within a maritime trade network that was effective and useful for both sides. The Euboean, Corinthian, and Attic vases found at Methone specify a southern route and network or networks, while the Eastern Greek wares point to networks operating along the coast of Asia Minor. The Phoenician transport amphorae and small pots suggest a possibly overseas system, which might have directly joined the Thermaic Gulf with the Levantine coast or indirectly via Eastern Greece or Euboea. On the other hand, the various Macedonian transport amphorae define some smaller local micro-networks, to which are also attributed a number of pots of undefined or controversial origin, including the socalled Catling group of trade amphorae, usually called North Aegean amphorae.33 Whether the commodity or commodities that attracted that group of visitors at Methone were raw materials, wood or agricultural products from the wider area that arrived there for shipping, cannot be identified today, but there is little doubt that in the Late Geometric and Archaic periods some kind of profitable dealings were taking place at the site. This assumed complex system of maritime networks at Late Geometric Methone seems rather far beyond the expected dynamics of a Late Geometric Macedonian site, but it can be better explained in terms of an Euboean colony. But even so, the time span of merely one or two decades from the period of the earliest finds (Late Geometric I) to the full growth of trade networks responsible for the wealth of imports at the site (Late Geometric II) is too short. Such a rapid evolution of the site could not have been possible, for visitors and natives alike, unless the area already had a sound pedigree in exchange dealings and good connections with Euboean and other Aegean communities, which seems to be the case. Euboean interest in the area, as implied by pottery and confirmed by the founding of colonies,34 was not a novelty of the late eighth century. On the contrary, it was the final result of systematic activity and visits in the northern Aegean that had started long before that time, as suggested by imported pottery and cultic or burial practices attested in the region.35

_____ 33 Cf. Methone Pierias I, 155 claimed as produced in the area (“Thermaic amphorae”). 34 Cf. Tiverios 2007; 2008. 35 Cf. Lemos 2002, 148 and 183; Tiverios 2007, 5.

The Archaeological Background of the Earliest Graffiti and Finds from Methone | 27

Early trade networks in the Aegean Euboeans were certainly among the first post-palatial Aegean societies that got involved in long-distance maritime trade networks.36 They were considered potent and effective seafarers in antiquity and there is also a later special mention of Eretrians as compelling and efficient travelers (‘ἀειναῡται’).37 Cypriot and Near Eastern imports at Lefkandi and conversely Euboean pottery found in tenth and ninth century contexts at Cyprus and on the Syro-Palestinian coast indicate an efficient exchange system between the two regions operated by trade networks.38 Claims for the presence of foreigners in early Lefkandi on the evidence of some terracotta matrixes have been put forward,39 while it has been argued that a rich ninth century tomb (tomb 79) belonged to a Phoenician resident.40 The tomb’s contents included Euboean Sub-Proto-Geometric II pottery, two imported vases and a seal, as well as some stone bullions, which rather confirm its attribution to a native trader rather than to a foreigner.41 In any case, participants in those early networks could not have been acting as national or state traders, but rather as private seafarers tempted by the idea of profit of any kind, including exotica. Within the Aegean, the naval character of Euboean societies during that early period is rather firmly established by Euboean Proto-Geometric and SubProto-Geometric pottery found scattered far and wide in the Aegean from Crete, the Cyclades, and the shoreline of Asia Minor to Thessaly and Macedonia.42 On the other hand, the absence of this pottery from the Corinthian gulf43 suggests that early Euboean trade networks were basically confined within the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean. The impact of Euboean pottery styles also seems to point to the same conclusion, especially the style of the characteristic Euboean skyphos with pendent semicircles, attested on local workshops of central Greece and Macedonia. The spread of Euboean pottery or its local imitations in Boeotia and along coastal Thessaly and Macedonia in the tenth and ninth centuries, known as “Euboean koine”,44 portrays a ceramic horizon suggestive of regular visits,

_____ 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44

Cf. Boardman 2001. Cf. Kontoleon 1963. Cf. Lemos 2001; Luke 2003; Kourou 2008a and 2008b. Cf. Coldstream 2007. Nijboer 2008 (erroneously dates the tomb to the tenth century). Cf. Popham/Lemos 1995; Kroll 2008. Cf. also Kourou 2012a, 165. Cf. Morgan 1998. Lemos 1998 and 2002, 212–216. For a modified view, cf. Papadopoulos 1996, 1997 and 2011.

28 | Nota Kourou

which herald the founding of the later Euboean colonies in coastal Macedonia. In the region of the colonies, Euboean and Euboeanizing pottery or cult and burial practices related to Euboea or other areas of central Greece are usually attested much earlier than the time of the colony’s official establishment. For instance, Mende was “established” as an Eretrian colony in the late eighth century, but local pottery from its earlier layers closely follows Euboean models,45 while the early phases of the sanctuary of Poseidon at Poseidi present elements, such as the ash altar or the circular platforms, implying religious contact with Euboea and central Greece long before the eighth century.46 Similarly, burial customs betraying contact with Euboea much earlier than the time of the colony’s founding, can be identified at Torone and Koukos, which in Classical times belonged to the Chora of Torone. Here the otherwise very uncommon practice of cremation in Early Iron Age Macedonia and the use of cist graves are already present in the tenth century. The excavator of Torone locates the closest parallels to the Toronean cremation graves at Athens47. But the imported pottery includes Euboean vases48 involving Euboean connections at the site during the Proto-Geometric period. A similar pattern results from the excavated sites in the northern part of coastal Pieria, where Euboean influence going back to the tenth and ninth centuries can be identified at the cemeteries of the wider area south of Methone. The single burial and the cist tomb occurring in the cemeteries of coastal Pieria is a novelty matching contemporary practices in Euboea and Athens. Similarly, the Proto-Geometric and Sub-Proto-Geometric ceramic styles of the area are strongly influenced by Euboean pottery styles.49 Full assessment of the cultural implications of Euboean, Attic, or other influence in tenth and ninth century coastal Pieria and evaluation of the character and origin of imported and derivative wares is for the moment not feasible as the material is largely unavailable. But from the few published examples, it is the Euboean elements that appear significant in the earlier periods, while Attic elements enter the local repertoire much later, probably in the Middle Geometric II period.50

_____ 45 Cf. Moschonisioti 1998. 46 Cf. Kourou 2012a,167. 47 Papadopoulos 2005, 394. 48 Papadopoulos 2005, 486–9. 49 Cf. Bessios 2010 for Proto-Geometric at Makrygialos, Sub-Proto-Geometric from Alykes; Kourou 2012a, 167–168. 50 Cf. also, Coldstream 1977, 87.

The Archaeological Background of the Earliest Graffiti and Finds from Methone | 29

The Middle Geometric I period: a new pattern of trade networks The Middle Geometric period, which covers the second part of the ninth (Middle Geometric I) and the first part of the eighth century (Middle Geometric II), was a period of changes and mobility in the Levant, whereas it was a period of prosperity, growth and expansion in the Aegean. In Middle Geometric I the by then current types of contacts and networks in the Aegean are replaced by a new pattern marked by a substantial rise in Near Eastern imports in Attica.51 Lefkandi was still a thriving settlement receiving imports in some quantity. But it was no longer the exclusive destination of Levantine objects in the central Aegean, since the increase of orientalia in Attica had introduced a new major recipient on the map.52 The sudden occurrence of Near Eastern objects in Attic graves suggests that Attica was now involved in overseas networks, possibly because of a rise in the production of the Lavrion silver mines.53 At the same time an impressive wave of Levantine impact is attested in Attic metalwork and more specifically in gold working. The by then long forgotten techniques of filigree and granulation suddenly reemerged, which allows for the theory that one or more Phoenician craftsmen established themselves in Attica.54 The prosperous, as it seems, Middle Geometric I period in the Aegean coincides with the time of the first colonization movement of the Phoenicians, who pressed by Assyrian military campaigns, moved westwards. The itinerary along the coast of Africa or via Crete was perhaps a more familiar route to the central and western Mediterranean, but occasionally they followed the coastline of Asia Minor and reached the Euboean gulf after crossing the Aegean, which apparently was not always the main destination. The best evidence for a westward Phoenician route via the Aegean comes from Huelva and Malaga. At Huelva, on the Atlantic coast of Spain by the mouth of the auriferous Rio Tinto River, an important assemblage of Phoenician pottery, associated with Cypriot, Nuragic and Greek pottery has been found.55 The Greek pottery consists of a small number of Attic Middle Geometric I/II cups (dated ca. 800 BCE) and some Euboean skyphoi decorated with pendent semicircles, apparently acquired in the Aegean en route to the West in the same way

_____ 51 52 53 54 55

Cf. Coldstream 1977, 70. Cf. Coldstream 1977, 58; Kourou 2012b, 219–223. Coldstream 1977, 70. Coldstream 1977, 56. Canales Cerisola et al. 2004.

30 | Nota Kourou

that Nuragic pottery had been obtained in Sardinia. Similarly, a Phoenician shipment excavated at Malaga included the fragments of an Attic Middle Geometric I/II (ca. 800 BCE) cup,56 while a later Middle Geometric II Attic cup fragment has been excavated at El Carambolo in the Tartessos area.57 To them should perhaps be added two casual finds from Sicily. The first is an Atticizing Middle Geometric I amphora found discarded above a local grave at the cemetery of Fusco in Syracuse and dating more than a century earlier than the foundation of the colony by the Greeks,58 the other is a slightly later Attic amphora (Middle Geometric I to Middle Geometric II) found at Gela59 and dating again a century earlier than the first Greek settlement at the site. Both could not have been easily transferred so much earlier than the Greek colonies in each area, while in view of the Huelva and other Attic finds in Spain, we can plausibly assume that they were transported by Phoenicians who had crossed the Aegean en route to the “West”. Whether Greeks were on board is not of importance as the shipment and the mission was Phoenician. The Phoenician trading shipments excavated at Huelva, Malaga, and El Carambolo portray most convincingly the concept of an early Phoenician network involving more or less peaceful travel in the Mediterranean throughout the Aegean.

The Middle Geometric II period: The immediate background of the Methone finds Following the foundation of Carthage at the end of the ninth century,60 trade networks increased rapidly in the central and western Mediterranean, and Greeks gradually became involved in them during the Middle Geometric II period. Possibly they were motivated by the success of earlier Phoenician trading missions and colonial foundations in that area. The first Greek exploratory travels in the “West” seem to have been confined to the central Mediterranean, as suggested by the Greek skyphoi found scattered on the coasts of Italy or Sicily and Sardinia.61 The earliest are of Euboean manufacture and they are consis-

_____ 56 Cf. Kourou 2012a, 175. 57 Cf. Escacena Carrasco 2008, 308 fig. 5. 58 Cf. Kourou/Stampolidis 1996, 712. 59 Cf. Kourou/Stampolidis 1996, 716. 60 For the dating problems of the foundation of Carthage, cf. Kourou 2002, 93–96; Dokter et al. 2008. 61 D’Agostino 2006 and 2010; Ridgway 2007, 144.

The Archaeological Background of the Earliest Graffiti and Finds from Methone | 31

tently skyphoi of the pendent semicircles type, like those attested in their eastern travels to Cyprus and the Levantine coast.62 But before the end of the Middle Geometric II period, chevron skyphoi of Euboean or Corinthian manufacture are added to the repertoire of early Greek travelers to the central Mediterranean.63 The begining of Corinthian travels in the “West” and their addition to the network systems of the area eventually caused a major revision in Aegean trade as well as industry. The Middle Geometric II period was an era of lively overseas activity in the Aegean and at the same time in the eastern and central Mediterranean. It was a prosperous phase of evolution and change within the emerging city state system. There was progress everywhere, especially in Attica, where silver was being extracted and processed at the Lavrion mines, adding to Athenian wealth. Silver was a metal rather unobtainable in the Eastern Mediterranean and therefore highly desirable. Athens was expanding into the countryside, and Eleusis was turning into a significant competitor. Lefkandi and Chalcis in Euboea continued to be major thriving centers, while Eretria was just starting to rise. In the Peloponnese, Argos remained a significant town, whereas Corinth was growing and starting its first tentative travels westwards through the Corinthian Gulf. Cultural interaction was vigorous between major and minor centers with Athenian trends spreading basically south, into the Peloponnese, central Cyclades and Crete, while Euboean styles and practices were effortlessly introduced northwards, along the coastal route and into the Thermaic Gulf. It is at this time that trade networks expand widely in the Aegean. The Euboeans continued to travel along the eastern and northern routes with which they were familiar. But now they were soon joined or rivaled by other Greeks and mainly Athenians. Up to that time Attic pottery was only rarely exported, but suddenly exports increased and Attic wares of this period are found in Knossos, as well as in the Cyclades and Eastern Aegean, while a widespread Atticizing style was the immediate after-effect of Attic expansion in the Aegean. Attic vases of this period occur also in Cyprus and the Levant,64 but usually in the company of Euboean wares, which suggests common networks possibly supervised by Euboeans. A large amount of Attic Middle Geometric II pottery found at Lefkandi,65 confirms close contact between the two regions and per-

_____ 62 For the pendent semicircle skyphoi cf. Kearsley 1989; Popham/Lemos 1992; Lemos 2002, 44–46. 63 For the chevron skyphoi cf. Descoeudres/Kearsley 1983, 11–34; D’Agostino 2010. 64 For Attic Middle Geometric pottery from Cyprus, cf. Lemos/Hatcher 1991 (with further bibliography); for the Levant, cf. Luke 2003. 65 Cf. tables in Popham/Lemos 1996.

32 | Nota Kourou

haps a commercial alliance in view of the Lavrion mines that attracted Near Easterners in the Euboean Gulf. Strangely enough Near Eastern imports in Attica are not very common in this period. On the other hand, the elaborate techniques for gold ornaments adopted previously from Levantine craftsmen still remained in use66, while toward the end of the Middle Geometric II period another variety of orientalizing gold jewelry appears consisting of impressed golden sheets decorated with animal friezes. They were used mostly as diadems, or more rarely as box casings, and they remained a frequent offering in Athenian graves down to the end of the Late Geometric.67 The sudden appearance of this alien style in Attica, produced by portable matrixes at a time when geometric art was at its highest peak, can be explained only if it is seen as the consequence of close contact with Near Eastern visitors. But the sheets were probably produced by local craftsmen, who tried and succeeded in fully adapting the original iconography and style to local taste by completing or framing the orientalizing animal friezes with geometric motifs current in contemporary pottery. The provenance of the gold used for Athenian jewelry in the Middle Geometric and Late Geometric periods, however, remains obscure. Homer mentions Egypt as the source of gold worked in Greece, while Phoenicians who obtained gold from Arabia might be another source, as Greek places, where gold mines were located in antiquity (Siphnos, Thasos, Pangaion), are not considered as operational earlier than the sixth century BCE,68 while the proposal for the Gallikos River, close to Methone and identified with the ancient Echedoros, as another source of Macedonian gold,69 has been met with skepticism.70 By that time, the final years of the Middle Geometric II period, Attic pottery was extremely rare in Macedonia, while Euboean vases were familiar. With the exception of a few Proto-Geometric imports at Torone,71 or some isolated Middle Geometric fragments elsewhere,72 no Attic vases are recorded from Macedonia earlier than the Late Geometric period. It seems, therefore, that Greek maritime networks in the Thermaic Gulf had remained fully in the hands of Euboeans down to almost the end of the Middle Geometric II period. Similarly, evidence for a Phoenician presence in the area prior to the Late Geometric period is missing, although ancient authors mention Phoenician ac-

_____

66 Cf. Higgins 1969, 147–150; also Coldstream 1977, 78–79. 67 For the diadems, cf. Ohly 1953; Coldstream 1977, 122–3 fig. 38. 68 On this issue, cf. Descouedres 2008, 306–308. 69 Tiverios 1990, 323–5 with n. 25. 70 Descoudres 2008, 307 n. 115. 71 Cf. Papadopoulos 2005, 485–486 . 72 Cf. e.g. two Middle Geometric sherds from Karabournaki (Tiverios 2004, 296 and 1987, 256 fig. 4a).

The Archaeological Background of the Earliest Graffiti and Finds from Methone | 33

tivity in the Aegean in their search for high value and raw materials.73 Likewise, some modern scholars have assumed an early Phoenician maritime route around Thasos.74 Yet, so far there is no archaeological clue as to the presence of Phoenicians in the North Aegean earlier than the Late Geometric period. By that time and on present archaeological evidence Phoenician exchange networks in the Aegean seem to have been confined to the central Aegean and basically within the sheltered Euboean gulf.

Fig. 1: Attic MG II amphora sherd. After Methone Pierias I, 65 fig. 1.

The pattern starts changing just before the end of the Middle Geometric II period, when Attic pottery is making a shy appearance in the North Aegean, marking a new era of networks that achieve their full dynamics in the Late Geometric period. For this reason, the Attic Middle Geometric II sherd from Methone (fig. 1),75 although it is an isolated find, is of importance not only because it points to earlier activity at the site, but mainly because it is a sign of the critical change in the network pattern of the area. The number of Attic Late Geometric vases found at Methone76 is a mark of Attic presence in the North Aegean networks, whether independently or via Euboeans. Phoenician presence is again attested at the site

_____ 73 Cf. also Tiverios 2004, 297–8 fig. 4. 74 Cf. e.g. Sherrat/Sherrat 1993, 372 fig. 1. Tiverios 2004. John Papadopoulos suggested that early Phoenician colonies in the Aegean might have gone “native” from the beginning (oral communication), but this possibility cannot be argued on archaeological evidence. 75 Cf. Bessios in Methone Pierias I, 65 fig. 1. 76 Cf. e.g. Methone Pierias I, 80–83 figs. 37–43.

34 | Nota Kourou

by trade amphorae and possibly fine pottery, as well, first in the Late Geometric period.77 The published material from the large deposit known as the “Βasement” (“Υπό γειον”) at Methone has a consistent Late Geometric character, which well suits the date of the colony identified at the site.78 The Methone “Βasement” with its strange dimensions is a storeroom79 whose form is still not exactly defined, but large constructions explained as storerooms are known from other trade ports in the Thermaic Gulf as well.80 They differ from the tripartite warehouse known in the contemporary Levant,81 but they seem to have had more or less the same function. Likewise the finds at Methone suggest a Macedonian trade port, where a depot place was necessary. It is the range of pottery found at Methone that makes a difference, as it indicates maritime connectivity of the site with the entire Aegean and consequently a trading port hosting more than one trading network.

Maritime networks and Euboean colonies in Macedonia The indigenous coastal populations of Macedonia were always responsive to contemporary Greek culture and basically to contemporary pottery trends as suggested by the Euboeanizing pottery styles present in the area. The early Euboean ceramic horizon recognized in the Thermaic Gulf might simply be considered an extended facet of the “Euboean koine”. But the adoption of burial customs or cultic practices at some sites reveals some more intimate contact between Euboeans and indigenous populations, implying the existence of a few small foci of newcomers temporarily residing among the natives. Apparently it was at some of these sites that later in the eighth century the Euboean colonies were established. But others remained local trading ports still visited by Euboeans, as implied by the pottery. The pattern is consistent and can be easily recognized not only in the Chalcidice peninsula, but also in coastal Pieria, where after the first centuries of exploration and activity, the colony was officially “established”.

_____ 77 78 79 80 81

Cf. Adam-Veleni and Stefani 2012, 161 nos. 109–110. Cf. Methone Pierias I. Cf. Bessios in Methone Pierias I, 45–47. Cf. e.g. those at Karabournaki (Tiverios 2004, 295). Cf. e.g. Kochavi 1998.

The Archaeological Background of the Earliest Graffiti and Finds from Methone | 35

In the Late Geometric period with the development of the city-state system and the new social forces that consequently emerged, a more centralized form of economic organization developed. Far-reaching exchanges and the need for stocks of bullion mostly came under the control of the state, and the former commercial autonomy of merchant enterprises was shaken. Economic control of trade and networks gradually passed to the state and to a large extent to major sanctuaries, which became the symbol of communal awareness and economic success.82 The underlying concept of the trading networks active in the framework of the city-state system was basically the acquisition of a standard and major commodity. Macedonia being a rich area in wood, agricultural products and raw materials, including gold, was an extremely profitable region in the new economic conditions of the late eighth century. In these conditions and under the pressure of the city-state system, some independent trading ports in the northern Aegean were converted into formal colonies. Thus the supervision of the trade networks in the area passed to the mother city, which kept political and economic control over the colony.

neue Seite

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82 Cf. Sherrat/Sherrat 1993, 362.

36 | John K. Papadopoulos

John K. Papadopoulos

To Write and to Paint: More Early Iron Age Potters’ Marks in the Aegean John K. Papadopoulos To Write and to Paint: More Early Iron Age Potters’ Marks in the Aegean

Abstract: In 1994 I published a paper on Protogeometric and Geometric potters’ marks in Greece, which, up to that time, were largely overlooked. Since then not only has the number of potters’ marks—symbols inscribed or painted prior to firing—more than doubled, from 70 to at least 172, but so too the number of postfiring marks, including the new corpus from the “Ypogeio” at Methone. The first part of this paper assembles and discusses the growing number of Early Iron Age potters’ marks that have come to light since 1994 known to me. The fact that the new corpus includes no fewer than nine Late Geometric alphabetic inscriptions from Eretria and Pithekoussai painted before firing indicates that potters were among the earliest literate population of the 8th century BCE. The remainder of the paper focuses on what bearing these early potters’ marks had on the issue of literacy. The paper also looks at the similarity of the vowels in early Greek and Phrygian, together with the Phoenician symbols from which they were derived, the testimony of Herodotus, and argues that the place of the adoption and adaptation of the Phoenician alphabet must be imagined as one where not only Greeks and Phoenicians interacted, but also Phrygians. That place can only have been the Aegean.

Twenty years ago, I published a paper on Protogeometric and Geometric potters’ marks in Greece, which, up to that time, were largely overlooked.1 I provided a

_____ 1 Papadopoulos 1994. I am grateful to a good many colleagues and friends for all sorts of assistance, not least for discussion of material in their care and/or for permission to illustrate individual pieces, especially the following: Stelios Andreou, Georgina Borromeo, Amy Brauer, Richard Catling, Susanne Ebbinghaus, Anastasia Gadolou, Alan Johnston, Kostas Kotsakis, Catherine Morgan, Erik Østby, Jutta Stroszeck, Nancy and Sarantis Symeonoglou, Samuel Verdan and other members of the École Suisse d’Archéologie en Grèce at Eretria, the late Ioulia Vokotopoulou, and Mary Voyatzis. For assistance on linguistic matters I am grateful to my UCLA colleagues Brent Vine and Jacco Dieleman (all errors and misconceptions are my own); I am also grateful to Sandra Blakely for sharing with me her thoughts on Phrygians and Phoenicians on Samothrace. Especial thanks are due to Anne Hooton for her drawings of the Agora and Kerameikos material presented in this paper; she was ably assisted by Freya Evenson. I am also grateful to all my Methone/Makrygialos friends, especially Manthos Bessios, Antonis Kotsonas, Athena Athanassiadou, and Konstantinos Noulas; my thanks, too, to another Methonean, Yan-

To Write and to Paint: More Early Iron Age Potters’ Marks in the Aegean | 37

catalogue of some seventy pieces, from various parts of the Greek world, which had symbols—painted, incised, stamped—that could be interpreted as potters’ marks; the corpus also included several pieces of uncertain nature. My primary aim in that paper was to draw attention to the existence of such marks and to provide a preliminary classification of the main types. The purpose of this paper is several-fold: first of all, to collect those potters’ marks of Protogeometric and Geometric date (ca. 1050–700 BCE) that have come to my attention since 1994. Secondly, I want to review the various interpretations as to the function or functions such marks served. Finally, and most importantly, I want to contextualize potters’ marks against the backdrop of literacy and the adoption and adaptation of the alphabet. To this end, I not only include the alphabetic marks of the new Group F (see below), but I also turn to the new material from Methone and Eretria, the former the principal port of the Thermaic Gulf, and one of the most important harbors of the north Aegean, and to speculate on the place or places where the Greek alphabet was adopted and adapted from the Phoenician/Aramaic script. Indeed, the adoption of alphabetic writing and its adaptation, by the Greeks sometime in the 8th century BCE was one of the most critical developments in world history. The ramifications were almost immediate and far-reaching. For the first time writing was not limited to a scribal class serving a ruling or religious elite, be it in Mesopotamia, Egypt, the Levant, or in the syllabic Linear B world of the Mycenaean palatial system. One of the most important developments since 1994 is the incidence—near the very end of the Geometric period—of pre-firing inscriptions, whether incised or painted, in alphabetic Greek. At least one of these, such as the example listed below from Pithekoussai (F6), was known prior to 1994, but the growing number of such inscriptions, presumably made by the potter, and clearly before firing, is such that they now form a full-fledged group of potters’ marks. I have assigned all such marks to my new Group F. To be sure, some of the marks on earlier or contemporary Early Iron Age pots may also be alphabetic, such as the possible “N” on B63, but I distinguish the marks of Group F from all others when there is more than one clearly alphabetic symbol. The fact that these inscriptions were made before firing associates them with the potter and, as such, one can trace a direct line between potters’ marks of the pre-literate or prealphabetic period and those of the full-fledged alphabetic period that can be assigned to a time before 700 BCE in our conventional chronology. That potters were able to paint or inscribe alphabetic Greek at or before 700 BCE speaks vol-

_____

nis Tzifopoulos, for the invitation to attend the conference in Thessaloniki that inspired this paper.

38 | John K. Papadopoulos

umes on the issue of the spread of literacy in the Greek world.2 As do the numerous Archaic rock-cut inscriptions of rural Attica inscribed on the living rock by shepherds and studied by Merle Langdon. Their very existence—together with the earlier evidence of potters’ marks—dispels, once and for all, elitist notions of the spread of literacy. The core of this study is the catalogue of new potters’ mark that I have amassed since 1994, which I present immediately below. From there, I discuss the various functions of potters’ marks, before drawing attention to what I consider a critical insight into the Greek mindset, namely that there is in Greek no distinction between “to write” and “to paint”: the word γρά φειν is used for both meanings. In the final section of this paper, I return to an issue that is crucial in our understanding of how and where the Greeks adopted and adapted the Phoenician alphabet: the similarity between Greek and Phrygian vowels. Greek and Phrygian vowels are so similar to one another that they could not have been developed independently. Consequently, we need to add Phrygians into the mix and imagine a locale where Semitic, Greek and Phrygian letters may have coalesced.

More Early Iron Age potters’ marks My original classification of potters’ marks in 1994 was according to five main categories: – Group A: painted symbols of wheelmade pottery – Group B: incised symbols, including impressed dots, on wheelmade and handmade pottery – Group C: stamped impressions on coarseware vessels – Group D: finger or thumb impressions at base of handle – Group E: painted figures Of these five categories, Group E should, strictly speaking, be listed under Group A, but it seemed useful, as it still does, to separate figured from nonfigured marks. The one example of a handmade pot with a painted potter’s mark (A31) is probably of Middle Helladic, rather than Early Iron Age, date. In 1994 I knew of no stamped impression that could qualify as a potter’s mark on anything other than a coarseware vessel; this has now changed, as there are a few late examples (C6–C7), one from Methone (late 8th or early 7th century BCE),

_____ 2 For a recent overview, see Papadopoulos 2014, especially 190–192.

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another from Kommos, which is 7th century. Although the latter falls outside the period of my focus, it seemed useful to include it. As such, the five main groups as discerned can stand, at least for the time being.3 As it turns out, what I collected and presented in 1994 was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg and since that date more Early Iron Age potters’ marks have come to my attention. Some of these I had inadvertently overlooked, others I owe to the kindness of colleagues and friends. As I noted in Hesperia 1994, a useful definition of potters’ marks was provided by Aliki Halepa Bikaki, who noted: “We consider as potters’ marks … those made on the pot before firing, when the pot was still in the hands of the potter, and therefore added most probably by the potter himself (hence the term), whatever their meaning and function.”4 With the exception of my Group E, the marks are usually simple and as a rule occur on inconspicuous parts of vases, especially on or immediately below handles, or else on the underside of a vessel. Less inconspicuous are a group of isolated painted symbols, primarily crosses, on one side of the neck of Protogeometric/Sub-Protogeometric neck-handled amphorae or at the center of the neck on contemporary hydriae. Although this difference of position is noteworthy, these are nevertheless classified as potters’ marks, provided they are isolated and not part of any clearly defined decorative scheme.5 Any signs painted or incised after firing—such as the majority of the marks, as well as the alphabetic inscriptions, from Eretria, Methone, Kommos, Pithekoussai, and the north Aegean amphorae from Lefkandi and elsewhere with trademarks6 to mention only a few—are not included as potters’ marks.7 Moreover, whatever the meaning of a mark, it clearly has reference to the object on which it appears.8

_____ 3 I do not include painted decoration on the undersides of predominantly Late Geometric vessels, such as pyxides and plates, that were commonly decorated. 4 Halepa Bikaki 1984, 2; Papadopoulos 1994, 438–439. 5 Cf. Vitelli 1977, 19, who notes: “We might consider … the free-floating, non-repetitive painted motif another version of the potter’s mark.” See also Donnan 1971, 464, where it is noted that potters’ marks incised on utility vessels of the Moche style of Peru (ca. CE 100–800) “are consistently located on the neck of the vessel … and are on one side only.” 6 For the Methone marks, published in exemplary detail, see Methone Pierias I; for the north Aegean amphorae from Lefkandi, see Catling 1996; Lemos 2012; the examples from Eretria, Kommos, and Pithekoussai are discussed in more detail below and in Papadopoulos 1994. 7 Cf. Halepa Bikaki 1984, 3. Similarly, other marks made during the process of forming a vase, such as mat impressions or slashes, gouges, or other impressions on or near handle and leg attachments specifically for the purpose of attaching the handle or leg, are not included. 8 Halepa Bikaki 1984, 3.

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Since 1994, numerous Early Iron Age potters’ marks have come to light. It goes without saying that the list that follows does not aim to be exhaustive, and it is beyond the scope of this paper to provide a fuller treatment of the material as I attempted in 1994. The most common additions to the corpus are the marks of Groups A and B, and it would be useful to begin with these. In order to facilitate cross-reference, I continue the numbering of each group from that in Hesperia 1994.

Group A: Painted symbols on wheelmade painted pottery Athens The number of new examples of painted potters’ marks from Athens that I know of is limited. There appears to be a painted potter’s mark on the high-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl (A40), which I noted in the National Museum on July 13, 1996. Dr. Anastasia Gadolou was kind enough to inspect the piece in 2013 and confirmed the existence of the painted mark, but noted that it may have been accidental, rather than an intentional mark.9 A40. Athens, National Museum, inv. 790. From the 1891 excavation of the Sapountzaki plot on Odos Peiraios. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl, Athenian. Painted horizontal line below one handle, perhaps accidental; deep circular depression below the other handle (probably accidental). Cf. Brückner/Pernice 1893 for the context. Late Geometric. A41. Athens, Kerameikos, inv. 2679. Fig. 1. Ribbon-handle bowl, with lid, Athenian. Irregular, roughly vertical stroke, below one handle. Large deeply incised X underneath the lid toward one side. Briefly noted in Vierneisel 1964, 462–467, fig. 53. Late Geometric.

_____ 9 Dr. Gadolou also inspected another high-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl I noted in 1996, National Museum, inv. 989. I had noted a diagonal painted line under one handle; Dr. Gadolou notes: “To me it looks more like a small accident during the making of the vase rather than a potter’s mark.” Inv. 989 has no known provenance, though it should be from Athens. I am grateful to Dr. Gadolou for her assistance.

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Figure 1: Potter’s marks on ribbon-handled bowl from the Athenian Kerameikos, inv. 2679 (A41). Left: incised mark on underside of lid; right: painted mark under one handle. Drawing Anne Hooton and Freya Evenson.

I had considered including the following vase in my original list in Hesperia 1994, but thought better of it at that time. The vessel, a handled “pyxis,” for want of a better term, of unique form, continues to trouble me, so I thought it best to include it here as a problem piece. The possibility that the asterisk (eight-pointed star) on its underside is merely decorative, is high. A42. Athens, Acropolis South Slope, ΓΜ 41, Tomb XV. Lidded pyxis, with one vertical and one horizontal handle, Athenian. Crudely painted asterisk (eight-pointed star) on underside. Charitonides 1973, pl. 10α–γ. For a combination handled skyphos/cup, not identical but not dissimilar, cf. Kübler 1954, pl. 117, Grab 88, inv. 813 (ca. 750 BCE); also pl. 133, inv. 1237, 1374, 1365. Late Geometric.

Aeginetan The skyphos from Aegina I published in 1994 (A9) now has its potter’s mark properly illustrated in a drawing and photograph published by Veronika Jarosch-Reinholdt (I illustrate here only the drawing: Fig. 2).10 In her republication of the Early Iron Age material from Kolonna, some of which was previously published by Wilhelm Kraiker,11 Jarosch-Reinholdt presents one new example, a fragmentary skyphos that is almost certainly Athenian, with a painted X below the one preserved handle.

_____ 10 Jarosch-Reinholdt 2009, 150, Beil. 23, pl. 48, no. 572. 11 Kraiker 1951.

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Figure 2: Painted potter’s mark under one handle of an Athenian skyphos from Aegina (A9). After Jarosch-Reinholdt 2009, Beil. 23, no. 572. A43. Aegina, ST 4389. Fig. 3. Body and handle fr, skyphos, Attic. Painted X below the one preserved handle. Jarosch-Reinholdt 2009, 148, Beil. 22, pl. 46, no. 539. Late Protogeometric.

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Figure 3: Athenian skyphos fragment from Aegina (A43). After Jarosch-Reinholdt 2009, Beil. 22, no. 539.

Boeotian The following mark, found beneath one handle of a Boeotian amphora, is one of the few Boeotian vases of the Early Iron Age known to me with a potter’s mark.

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A44. Heidelberg University, inv. G 81. Amphora, Boeotian, said to be from Vouliagmeni. Painted cross (X or +) below one handle. Canciani 1966, 61, pl. 121: 1,3; pl. 128: 17. Late Geometric.

Euboea, Lefkandi The following marks from Lefkandi were not fully published when my 1994 article was submitted or appeared too late to be included; I am grateful to Richard Catling for bringing these to my attention.12 A45. Lefkandi, Palia Perivolia, North Channel. Fig. 4. Neck-handled amphora. Euboean. Large painted + on neck on one side of the vessel. Popham, Sackett, and Themelis 1979–1980, 272–273, 335, pl. 282C; Catling 1996, 130, note 14. Originally published as Late Protogeometric, but tentatively reassigned to Middle Protogeometric by Catling. The mark is not mentioned in the original publication. The cross is slightly larger than others published from Lefkandi. Papadop_04

Figure 4: Lefkandi, Palia Perivolia, North Channel: large painted + on neck of neck-handled amphora (A45). Popham, Sackett, and Themelis 1979–1980, pl. 282C. Photo courtesy Richard Catling.

_____ 12 Catling 1996, 130, note 14.

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A46. Lefkandi, Toumba Building, no. 252a. Lower body and base fragment, small open vessel with conical foot, Euboean. Painted cross (X or +) on underside. Catling/Lemos 1990, 107, pl. 13, no. 252a. Middle Protogeometric. A47. Lefkandi, Toumba Building, no. 252b. Lower body and base fragment, small open vessel with conical foot, Euboean. Painted cross (X or +) on underside. Catling/Lemos 1990, 107, pl. 13, no. 252b. Middle Protogeometric.

Mention is also made by Catling of several more closed vessels, either with crosses, or crossed diagonals, but the pieces were not considered significant enough for publication. In his discussion of the statistical analysis of the uncatalogued pottery from the Toumba Building at Lefkandi, Catling notes: “Only twelve [large closed vessels] preserve traces of decoration other than added bands; four have crossed diagonals (as 466),13 two a cross, one a single wavy line, with the remainder indecipherable.”14 The crosses on the necks of the two uncatalogued amphorae or hydriae may be listed as potters’ marks, though the four “crossed diagonals” are much less certain, as they could well be decorative.15 In the published description of Lefkandi 466 it was noted that the crossed diagonals occur on only one side of the vessel; the other side was evidently reserved.16 Since the non-inventoried pieces from the Toumba Building are fragmentary, it remains unclear whether the crossed diagonals were found on one or both sides of the vessel. If they occur on both sides of the neck, the diagonals would constitute part of the decorative scheme of the vase inasmuch as they would represent the continuation, onto the neck, of the painted decoration of the handles, such as that on the Thessalian Late Protogeometric neck-handled amphorae.17 The unpublished examples from Lefkandi thus add two and perhaps as many as six additional potters’ marks to the list assembled in 1994 from the site.

_____ 13 Published in Papadopoulos 1994, 444, fig. 4, pl. 111e, A13. 14 Catling/Lemos 1990, 150; Catling 1996, 130, note 14. 15 See the discussion in Papadopoulos 1994, 459. 16 Catling/Lemos 1990, 116, no. 466; Papadopoulos 1994, 444, fig. 4, pl. 111e, A13. 17 See Heurtley/Skeat 1930–1931; Desborough 1952, 77–79, pl. 22; Verdelis 1958, 91–93. For further references and discussion see Papadopoulos 1994, 459, notes 37–40.

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Corinthia The Corinthia has produced a handful of new examples. First there is the material from Perachora, long-known and fully published, that I had inadvertently overlooked in 1994, together with the more recently published material from Isthmia.

Perachora A48. Perachora, Sanctuary of Hera Akraia. Fig. 5. Base of monochrome cup, Corinthian. Painted cross (X or +) in orange paint on the underside, different to the paint on the exterior and interior of the vessel. Payne 1940, 58, pl. 13, no. 18; pl. 121, 2. Late Geometric.

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Figure 5: Perachora, Sanctuary of Hera Akraia: base of Corinthian monochrome cup with painted potter’s mark on underside (A48). Photo after Payne 1940, 58, pl. 13, no. 18.

Mention is made of another similar foot with an “orange cross” on underside.18 There is, furthermore, a painted motif on the underside of a conical oinochoe from Perachora, but this may be decoration, rather than a potter’s mark, as conical oinochoai are often decorated on the undersides. This said, the mark is most unusual and does not resemble other, more clearly decorative, painting on the undersides of oinochoai.

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18 Payne 1940, 58, under no. 18.

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A49. Perachora, Sanctuary of Hera Akraia. Fig. 6. Fragmentary conical oinochoe, Corinthian. Painted motif on underside. Payne describes the piece as follows: “Painted on the bottom, the mark shown on pl. 123, 9. This is probably a pattern, not a maker’s mark, as conical oinochoai are very often decorated on the bottom.” The idiosyncratic nature of the mark is such as to suggest that it may be a potter’s mark and it is thus included here. Payne 1940, 63, pl. 123, no. 9 (13). Late Geometric/Early Protocorinthian. Cf. A51 from Isthmia below.

Papadop_06

Figure 6: Perachora, Sanctuary of Hera Akraia: painted motif on base of fragmentary Corinthian conical oinochoe (A49). Drawing after Payne 1940, 58, pl. 123, no. 9 (13).

Whether or not A49 is a potter’s marks remains moot, but it is precisely such symbols that blur the distinction, if there really is one, between painted potters’ marks and decoration. Thomas Dunbabin has the following to say about the decoration on the base of conical oinochoiai. “Decoration of the bottom is usually confined to straight lines, from four to ten in number, crossing the bottom in one direction or two; less frequently, a cross of single lines. This is most frequent in the eighth century, when it appears almost as often as not; there are also a number that must belong to the seventh century, but before the middle of the century it was given up.”19 Christopher Pfaff has provided a complete list of inventoried Corinthian Geometric pottery with decoration on the underside, and the vessel forms are consistent: oinochoai, kalathoi, and proto-kotylai.20 The idiosyncratic nature of the mark is such that it does not immediately look decorative, and the possibility that it represents a potter’s mark should be noted.

_____ 19 Dunbabin 1962, 35. 20 Pfaff 1988, 56, note 137.

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Isthmia Elsewhere in the Corinthia, there are a few potters’ marks on fragmentary pottery from the excavations of the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia, quantified with exemplary detail by Catherine Morgan. Among the 18,372 Early Iron Age fragments, weighing over 85 kg, only two possible potters’ marks were noted by Morgan. One is clearly a potter’s mark, the other much less likely. A50. Isthmia, Sanctuary of Poseidon, IP 1020. Base, monochrome one-handled cup, Corinthian. Painted cross (X or +) on underside. Morgan 1999, 90–91, fig. I.39, pl. 31, no. 232. Early Geometric – Middle Geometric II. A51.

Isthmia, Sanctuary of Poseidon, IP 1126. Base of conical oinochoe, Corinthian. Painted triangular and curvilinear motif on underside. Morgan 1999, 127, 129, fig. I.51, pl. 51, no. 388. Cf. A49 from Perachora above. Late Geometric/Early Protocorinthian.

Of this sizable assemblage from the Sanctuary of Poseidon, just under one-half consists of standard Protogeometric tall-footed skyphoi and Geometric onehandled cups, with key areas, such as bases, well represented. The Isthmia material is the first large assembly of pottery from a sanctuary in the Corinthia, and the paucity of potters’ marks is in keeping with the situation at Athens and Lefkandi that I discussed in 1994; it also supports my caution about interpreting individual potter’s marks as “dedication markings.”21

Peloponnese (Argos?) The following piece is said to be from Argos and was originally considered by Mary Moore to be of Argive manufacture, but finally, and perhaps wisely, classified as “fabric uncertain.”22 The round-bottomed shape, with the impressively blatant cross is certainly unique in form and decoration; although assigned by Moore to the late 8th century BCE, the piece dates, conceivably, to an earlier

_____

21 Papadopoulos 1994. I am not convinced, however, that the Isthmia Late Bronze and Early Iron Age assemblage represents material dedicated to the sanctuary. 22 Moore 2004, 91, pl. 53:5-6. I have not seen the vase but from the illustrations the decoration seems closer to Arcadian or Laconian Early Iron Age, and it may be quite a bit earlier than the assigned Late Geometric date.

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phase of the Early Iron Age. The sheer size of the cross is unlike the vast majority of potters’ marks, and I am not sure that A52 qualifies as a potter’s mark; I include it here as a problem piece. A52. New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Acc. no. 19.45.7. Round-bottom jug, considered local, but perhaps from elsewhere in the Peloponnese. Very thick and solid painted cross on round bottom. Moore 2004, 91, pl. 53, Acc. no. 19.45.7. Assigned to the late 8th century BCE by Moore, but is conceivably earlier.

Tegea (Laconian) The following I owe to the kindness of my colleagues, Professors Mary Voyatzis and Erik Østby. The fragment is assigned by Voyatzis as Laconian and compared with Laconian Protogeometric. The form of the cup, as preserved, is most likely Early Geometric and perhaps as late as Middle Geometric. A53. Tegea, E1S/133-06 (B-8a). Fig. 7. Base fragment, small open vessel, probably one-handled cup rather than skyphos. Painted cross (X or +) on underside. Nordquist/Voyatzis/Østby forthcoming, Fig. 9B, no. B-29. Early or Middle Geometric (best assigned as Early Geometric).

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Figure 7: Tegea, Sanctuary of Athena Alea: painted cross on the underside of a fragmentary Laconian Geometric cup (A53). Courtesy Mary Voyatzis and Erik Østby.

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Ithake, Aetos Undoubtedly, the most important single collection of potters’ marks that has come to light in recent years is that from the excavations directed by Sarantis Symeonoglou at the Sanctuary of Apollo at Aetos on Ithake. In 1994, I included a solitary mark among the Ithakesian pottery previously published from the British School excavations at the site; the mark was noted in the published description, and although the vessel on which the mark appeared was illustrated, the mark itself was not.23 The painted mark appears on the underside of a kantharos that was described by Robertson as “cross-hatched … perhaps a potter’s mark.”24 The recent excavations have brought to light more marked vases, and in the process of studying this material, Dr. Nancy Symeonoglou, who is responsible for its publication, has re-examined all the previously published Ithakesian pottery and has noted several more marks that were overlooked. The total number of painted potters’ marks from Aetos is now 32, of which at least 27 are from the recent excavations. On all of the 32 vases the marks are painted in red or orange paint (cf. the marks noted from Perachora above) on the underside, except in one instance where the mark is under the handle; all of the vessels are assigned to the Middle and Late Geometric period. The 27 marked vases from the recent excavations are all assigned to the so-called Kandyliotis Workshop, which is important when considering the possible functions of the marks in the context of pottery production within a workshop. The red paint used for the marks is different to the normal black or brown or reddish-brown gloss of the painted decoration. Although the position of the marks is canonical when compared to the corpus of Early Iron Age potters’ marks, their variety and number is noteworthy. Although ostensibly unpublished, drawings of five of the vessels and their marks were presented in a newsletter of the excavations, which I assemble and reproduce here as Figure 8.25 Of the 32 Ithakesian marks I list only the five that have been published, to date, in preliminary form.

_____ 23 Robertson 1948, 66–69, fig. 40, pl. 23, no. 357; Coldstream 1968, 224, note 3; Papadopoulos 1994, 446, A37. 24 Robertson 1948, 66–69. 25 See Symeonoglou 1989, 1, 3, figs. 2–6. I am grateful to both Sarantis and Nancy Symeonoglou for sharing and discussing their material with me.

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A54. Ithake, Aetos. Fig. 8a. Round-mouth juglet, Ithakesian. Painted mark in red/orange paint on underside, composed of a horizontal line with two vertical lines at either end (or vertical line with two horizontal lines). Symeonoglou 1989, 1, fig. 2. Late Geometric. A55. Ithake, Aetos. Fig. 8b. Skyphos, Ithakesian. Painted mark in red/orange paint on underside: three dots arranged asymmetrically. Symeonoglou 1989, 2, fig. 3. Late Geometric (rather than Middle Geometric II). A56. Ithake, Aetos. Fig. 8c. Kantharos, Ithakesian. Painted mark in red/orange paint on underside, as shown, consisting of a V- or Λ-shaped symbol, with dot to one side. Symeonoglou 1989, 3, fig. 4. Late Geometric. A57. Ithake, Aetos. Fig. 8d. Conical oinochoe, Ithakesian. Painted mark in red/orange paint on underside, as shown, consisting of a vertical line, with diagonals lines extending, one from the top, the other from the bottom. Symeonoglou 1989, 3, fig. 5. Late Geometric. A58. Ithake, Aetos. Fig. 8e. Lidded pyxis, Ithakesian. Roughly formed painted cross (X or +) in red/orange paint on underside. Symeonoglou 1989, 3, fig. 6 Late Geometric.

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Figure 8: Selection of vessels of the Kandyliotis Workshop from Aetos on Ithake with potters’ marks (A54–A58). Drawing courtesy Nancy and Sarantis Symeonoglou.

In discussing these five vessels, Symeonoglou notes that A54 is a very common shape on Ithake but rare in other parts of Greece, and considers it a local invention;26 it is the same shape as the vessel with a potter’s mark from Vitsa listed below (A60). In his discussion of the other vessels, he notes that the three dots on A55 occur on two other vases of different shape; that the V- or Λ-shaped symbol on A56 is one of the most common signs in the group; and that the cross on A58 is found on two other vases from Aetos.27

Rhodes I also inadvertently overlooked the large amphora, published in 1933, from Kameiros on Rhodes with a Λ-shaped potter’s mark under one handle. The amphora is large and was used as the burial container for a neonate in an enchytrismos burial. A59. Kameiros, inv. 14073. Fig. 9. Large belly-handled amphora, East Greek. Painted Λ-shaped mark under one handle.

_____ 26 Symeonoglou 1989, 1. 27 Symeonoglou 1989, 3.

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Jacopi 1933, 127–130, figs. 144–145, Tomb XLIII, 1. Early Geometric (rather than Protogeometric).

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Figure 9: Kameiros (Rhodes), inv. 14073 (A59): large belly-handled amphora, East Greek, with painted Λ-shaped mark under one handle.

Epirus, Vitsa Zagoriou This solitary mark is very closely related to the Ithakesian potters’ marks. Vokotopoulou assigned the tomb and vase to the Late Geometric period, dating it to the third quarter of the eighth century BCE. The mark itself, in light red paint, is very similar to the marks from Ithake and that from Perachora already discussed. Although Vokotopoulou considered the vessel Corinthian, I am more inclined to think of it as Ithakesian.28 A60. Vitsa Zagoriou, Tomb 161, inv. 5238. Fig. 10. Small round-mouth juglet, thought to be Corinthian, but more likely Ithakesian. Paint “S” in light red paint on underside. Vokotopoulou 1986, Vol. A, 205, no. 5; Vol. B, pl. 323α, fig. 67β, inv. 5238 (T 161). Late Geometric.

_____ 28 I am grateful to Ioulia Vokotopoulou for sending me an illustration of the vessel (Fig. 10). Having seen the vase in the Ioannina Museum, I am pretty certain it is not Corinthian, but resembles more closely the standard fabric of Late Geometric Ithake.

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Figure 10: Small jug/kyathos, from Vitsa Zagoriou in Epirus with potter’s mark on underside (A60). Drawing courtesy Ioulia Vokotopoulou.

Macedonia, Toumba Thessalonikis Elsewhere in northern Greece, Toumba Thessalonikis has produced at least two potters’ marks that date very close to the transition from the Bronze Age to the Early Iron Age, and represent a welcome addition to the potters’ marks from Kastanas in central Macedonia and Torone in Chalcidice published in 1994.29 I am grateful to Professors Stelios Andreou and Kostas Kotsakis for kindly showing me the finds from the site, and to Professor Andreou for illustrations of the two pieces and permission to include them here. A61. Toumba Thessalonikis, KA 641/707. Fig. 11. Belly-handled amphora, north Aegean. Painted + under one handle only. Andreou 2009, 23, 38, fig. 13:10. LH IIIC Late. A62. Toumba Thessalonikis, KA 1005/1008/2699. Fig. 12. Fragmentary skyphos/deep bowl, north Aegean. Painted cross (X or +) on underside. Unpublished. Transitional Late Bronze Age/Early Protogeometric.

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29 For Kastanas, see Hänsel 1979, 198, fig. 18, no. 3; Papadopoulos 1994, 446–447, fig. 5, pl. 113f, A38. For Torone, see Papadopoulos 1994, 448–451, figs. 8–11, pls. 114d–f, 115a–f, nos. B5–B11; Papadopoulos 2005, 541–552.

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Figure 11: Toumba Thessalonikis, KA 641/707: painted + under one handle only of North Aegean belly-handled amphora (A61). Drawing courtesy Stelios Andreou.

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Figure 12: Toumba Thessalonikis, KA 1005/1008/2699: painted cross (X or +) on underside of fragmentary skyphos/deep bowl (A62). Drawing courtesy Stelios Andreou.

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Macedonia, Kastanas The more recent publication of the painted pottery from Levels 19–11 at Kastanas have brought to light a few more potters’ marks.30 A63. Kastanas, Kat. Nr. 253. Fig. 13. Skyphos, north Aegean. Painted cross (X or +) on underside. Jung 2002, 371–372, pl. 23, no. 253. Level 12 (Haupthaus, Raum 3): transitional Late Bronze/Early Iron Age. A64. Kastanas, Kat. Nr. 327. Fig. 14. Small open vessel, north Aegean. Painted cross (X or +) on underside. Jung 2002, 393, pl. 30, no. 327. Level 12 (Südhof): transitional Late Bronze/Early Iron Age.

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Figure 13: Kastanas, 253 (A63): painted cross (X or +) on underside of North Aegean skyphos. After Jung 2002, 371–372, pl. 23, no. 253.

_____ 30 In discussing comparanda, Jung (2002, pl. 74, no. 3) illustrates a base fragment from a small open vessel, listed as “Argolis, Fundort unbekannt,” with a painted cross (X or +) on the underside. As the context and date of the piece cannot be verified, I have decided not to include it in the catalogue here.

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Papadop_014

Figure 14: Kastanas, 327 (A64): painted cross (X or +) on underside of small North Aegean open vessel. After Jung 2002, 393, pl. 30, no. 327.

Methone, Pieria The recent publication of the material from the “Ypogeio” at Methone has brought to light no shortage of both painted and incised pre-firing potters’ marks.31 The latter are dealt with under Group B; here I include only those that are painted.32 A65. Methone, ΜΕΘ 1360. Fig. 15a–b. Euboean-style skyphos made in the Thermaic Gulf region. Two vertical parallel lines below the handle on one side of the vase, near one of the lower handle attachments. Methone Pierias I, 375–376, no. 26. L ate 8th or early 7th century BCE. Papadp_15a/b

Figure 15: a)–b) Euboean-style skyphos made in the Thermaic Gulf region ΜΕΘ 1360 (A65): two vertical parallel lines below the handle on one side of the vase, near one of the lower handle attachments.

_____ 31 Methone Pierias I. 32 As the Methone marks are fully published, with good drawings and photographs, and with the publication available online, I have decided not to illustrate them here except for select pieces.

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A66. Methone, ΜΕΘ 2767. Fig. 16. Euboean-style skyphos made in the Thermaic Gulf region. Two thin vertical parallel lines below the handle on one side of the vase, near one of the lower handle attachments, one on top of the area painted solid. Methone Pierias I, 381–382, no. 31. Late 8th or early 7th century BCE.

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Figure 16: Euboean-style skyphos made in the Thermaic Gulf region, ΜΕΘ 2767 (A66): two thin vertical lines below the handle on one side of the vase, near one of the lower handle attachments, one on top of the area painted solid.

A67. Methone, ΜΕΘ 2259. Fig. 17. Fragmentary Corinthian-style kotyle made in the Thermaic Gulf region. Two thin parallel lines below the handle on the underside of the surviving handle. Methone Pierias I, 384–385, no. 34. Late 8th or early 7th century BCE.

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Figure 17: Fragmentary Corinthian-style kotyle made in the Thermaic Gulf region, ΜΕΘ 2259 (A67): two thin parallel lines below the handle on the underside of the surviving handle.

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A68. Methone, ΜEΘ 2188. Fragmentary north Aegean amphora made in the Thermaic Gulf region. Large painted cross (X or +) beside the one preserved handle. There is also a post-firing mark near the mid-point of the same vertical handle. Methone Pierias I, 421–422, no. 80. Late 8th or early 7th century BCE. A69. Methone, ΜEΘ 2917. Fig. 18. Fragmentary North Ionian bird-kotyle. Short painted horizontal stroke below the surviving handle. Methone Pierias I, 433–434, no. 94. Late 8th or early 7th century BCE.

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Figure 18: Fragmentary North Ionian bird-kotyle, ΜΕΘ 2917 (A69): short painted horizontal stroke below the surviving handle.

A70. Methone, ΜEΘ 2246. Shoulder fragment, Samian amphora. Possible, but far from clear (and unlikely) painted marks, barely visible, on the shoulder immediately below juncture with neck. Methone Pierias I, 451–452, no. 115. Late 8th or early 7th century BCE. A71.

Methone, ΜEΘ 2191. Rim, neck and handle fragment, Lesbian amphora. Faint traces of painted triangular symbol/mark on one side of the neck. There are, in addition, post-firing marks at the base of the handle and on the upper shoulder. Methone Pierias I, 465–466, no. 132. Late 8th or early 7th century BCE.

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Other Not wishing to stray too far into the 7th century BCE. I note here, but do not catalogue, an example from Kommos, a dipinto in red paint, evidently ΑΚ, on the underside of the base of an Ionian rosette bowl.33

Group B: Incised symbols, including impressed dots, on wheelmade and handmade pottery In Hesperia 1994 I was able to assemble and illustrate 14 examples of incised symbols: two only on wheelmade and painted pots (B1–B2), the remainder on handmade pottery, with eight examples from Torone in Chalcidice (B4–B11), three from Corinth (B12–B14), and one from Marmariani in Thessaly (B3). Over the past few years, the number of incised marks on Early Iron Age wheelmade pottery has grown exponentially—primarily, though not exclusively, from a category that I had completely overlooked: reference marks—whereas the number of additional incised symbols on handmade pots is modest. Before dealing with the “reference marks” that are found primarily on Early Iron Age pyxides, I begin with a series of Early Iron Age high-rimmed ribbonhandled bowls, together with a few pyxides, with incised symbols under one handle or else on the lid. Although these incisions may have served as reference marks, that is, indicating to the potter where the handle was to be attached, the fact that they are usually found only under one handle, coupled with the fact that it is unclear whether they were incised before or after the attachment of the handle, makes them less likely to be reference marks. In addition to the highrimmed ribbon-handled bowls of Athenian manufacture, there are a few more wheelmade painted pots with incised potters’ marks, one that is probably Boeotian, another of north Aegean manufacture. In addition to the reference marks assembled here under sub-heading (iii), I have added another sub-heading (iv), which deals with incised potters’ marks on transport/storage amphorae, in order to distinguish them from marks on both wheelmade and painted pots, on the one hand, and handmade pottery on the other.

_____ 33 Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 124, pls. 2.4, 2.11, inv. C7487; see also Johnston 1983; Johnston 1993, 353, fig. 5e, pl. 77, no. 59. This dipinto could as easily be classified under Group F.

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(i) WHEELMADE, PAINTED POTTERY Athens, Kerameikos All of the following vessels are Athenian unless otherwise noted.34 B15.

Kerameikos, inv. 2681. Fig. 19a. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl, with lid. Very deeply incised diagonal stroke below one handle only; similar, though less deeply incised diagonal, underneath lid. Briefly noted in Vierneisel 1964, 462–467, fig. 53. Late Geometric.

B16. Kerameikos, inv. 378 (44). Figs. 19b, 20. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl (no lid). Very deeply incised diagonal stroke below one handle only. Kübler 1954, 226, pl. 120. Late Geometric. B17.

Kerameikos, inv. 374 (44). Fig. 19c. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl (no lid). Very deeply incised diagonal stroke below one handle only. Kübler 1954, 226, pl. 120. Late Geometric.

B18. Kerameikos, inv. 1343 (49). Fig. 19d. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl (no lid). Shorter incised diagonal stroke below one handle only. Kübler 1954, 243, pl. 121. Late Geometric. B19. Kerameikos, inv. 2680. Fig. 19e. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl, with lid. Two fairly deeply incised, but rather worn, diagonal strokes below one handle; larger, deeply incised diagonal stroke underneath lid toward one side. Briefly noted in Vierneisel 1964, 462–467, fig. 53. Late Geometric. B20. Kerameikos, inv. 382. Fig. 19f. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl (no lid). Deeply incised X below one handle only. Kübler 1954, 259, pl. 119; Coldstream 1968, 51–52. Middle Geometric II.

_____ 34 See also the incised X underneath the lid of Kerameikos, inv. 2679 presented above, as A41.

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B21. Kerameikos, inv. 815. Fig. 19g. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl (no lid). Incised mark, approaching X, below one handle only. Kübler 1954, 268, pl. 120; Coldstream 1968, pl. 10h. Late Geometric Ib. B22. Kerameikos, inv. 384. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl (no lid). Incised diagonal stroke below one handle only; immediately above and to the right, portion of a slightly less deeply incised diagonal stroke at right angles to the first, which does not cross it; the upper part of this diagonal is obliterated by a chip on the body at this point. Kübler 1954, 260, pl. 119; Coldstream 1968, 50, note 6, 51–52. Late Geometric I. B23. Kerameikos, inv. 345. Fig. 19h. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl, with lid. Incised mark, roughly L-shaped, in part deeply incised, below one handle only; deeply incised X on underneath of lid toward one side. Kübler 1945, 258, pl. 119; Coldstream 1968, pl. 10g. Late Geometric Ib. B24. Kerameikos, inv. 775. Fig. 19i. Flat (standard) pyxis, with lid, with three horses on top. No mark on pyxis body; fairly deeply incised roughly L-shaped mark near center of underside of lid, but bearing no relationship to either of the well-preserved pairs of tie-holes. The symbol, its position, and the fact that there is no corresponding mark on the pyxis body, are all odd features. Bohen 1988, 100, pl. 29.1, 3–5, no. 192 (mark not noted). Middle Geometric II, ca. 770–760 BCE.

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Figure 19: Incised potters’ marks on Geometric vessels from the Athenian Kerameikos: a) inv. 2681 (B15); b) inv. 378 (B16); c) inv. 374 (B17); d) inv. 1343 (B18); e) inv. 2680 (B19); f) inv. 382 (B20); g) inv. 815 (B21); h) inv. 345 (B23); i) inv. 775 (B24). Drawings Anne Hooton and Freya Evenson.

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Figure 20: Kerameikos, inv. 378 (44): deeply incised diagonal stroke below one handle of Athenian ribbon-handled bowl (B16). Photo author.

Athens, Agora B25. Agora T24-1 (P 14816). Flat pyxis, with lid. Potter’s mark, rather than reference mark: large X, lightly incised prior to painting on top of lid, near one tie-hole. Both the size and the position of the mark are unusual and it may be a potter’s mark serving some function other than as a reference mark. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T24-1. Middle Geometric II.

Athens, Sapountzaki Plot, Odos Peiraios The following three pieces (B26–B28), together with A40, all derive from the 1891 excavations of the Sapountzaki Plot on Peiraios Street in the Kerameikos, and were deposited in the National Museum of Athens. The tombs from which these vessels derive were published by Alfred Brückner and Erich Pernice in 1893.35 B26. Athens, National Museum, inv. 772. Dipylon Ivories Grave. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl, Athenian. Incised cross below one handle only.

_____ 35 Brückner/Pernice 1893, 73–191, especially pls. VI–VIII (several of these vases are illustrated on pl. VIII).

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Brückner and Pernice 1893 (for context). Late Geometric. B27. Athens, National Museum, inv. 783. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl, Athenian. Deeply incised diagonal stroke, with shorter and less deep crossbar at one end, below one handle only. Brückner and Pernice 1893 (for context). Late Geometric. B28. Athens, National Museum, inv. 796. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl, Athenian. Incised mark under one handle only, consisting of two vertical lines, that to the right longer than the other, and a deep irregular impression a little to the right of the lines. Brückner and Pernice 1893 (for context). Late Geometric.

Athenian, Unknown Provenance B29. Harvard University Art Museums, Acc. no. 1960.272. Figs. 21a–b. High-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl, Athenian. Deeply incised Λ-shaped mark below one handle only. Unpublished. Late Geometric.

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Figure 21: a)–b) Harvard University Art Museums, Acc. no. 1960.272: deeply incised Λ-shaped mark below one handle of Athenian high-rimmed ribbon-handled bowl (B29). Photo courtesy museum.

Boeotian? I have not seen the following mark myself; I owe its knowledge, together with the sketch, to the kindness of Dr. Georgina Borromeo. I cannot say whether the mark was incised or scratched before or after firing. Coldstream makes note of

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the krater under his heading of Boeotian Geometric pottery.36 As I have not seen the vessel, I cannot confirm it as Boeotian. Stylistically, the krater recalls both Boeotian and Euboean Subgeometric. B30. Providence, Rhode Island School of Design, Museum of Art, Acc. no. 23.300. Fig. 22. Footed krater. Incised/scratched motif, as shown, on underside of base. Luce 1933, 18, pl. 8, no. 1a–1b. Late Geometric/Subgeometric.

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Figure 22: Providence, Rhode Island School of Design, Museum of Art, inv. 23.300, incised/ scratched motif, as shown, on underside of base of footed krater (B30). Sketch courtesy of Georgina Borromeo.

Crete, Kommos The excavations in the Iron Age levels of Kommos have yielded no shortage of pre-firing potters’ marks. The majority of these are assigned, either by context, fabric or style, to the 7th century BCE, though a few are earlier. For the purposes of this paper I have decided to catalogue only two examples, one assigned to the late 8th or early 7th century BCE, the other to the early 7th century BCE. In addition to these I list several more examples that are 7th century BCE, many of them assigned to the second half of the century. B31. Kommos, I 17. Base fragment, slipped fine ware cup of south Cretan fabric. Incised symbol, considered to be alphabetic: ]Φ[, though its form is such that assigning it as alphabetic with conviction seems difficult. Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 111–112, pls. 2.1, 2.9; Csapo 1991. Late 8th–early 7th century BCE.

_____ 36 Coldstream 1968, 204, 208, 209, note 3.

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B32. Kommos, I 54. Fragment of vertical handle of a locally manufactured amphora or hydria. Incised symbol, X or K, near upper break of handle. Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 119, pls. 2.3. Early 7th century BCE by context.

Examples of 7th-century BCE pre-firing marks on pottery at Kommos include the following:37 – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 119, no. 32, inv. I 72, pls. 2.3, 2.11 (local, perhaps Bronze Age). – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 121, no. 46, inv. I 41, pl. 2.3 (perhaps Cycladic or East Greek). – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 121, no. 48, inv. I 24, pl. 2.3 (local krater).

Thasos The following fragment was found on Thasos and is probably of Subgeometric, rather than Late Geometric date. I am grateful to Richard Catling for bringing it to my attention. The fragment derives from the 1960 and 1961 campaigns at ancient Thasos.38 B33. Thasos, no. 147. Handle fragment, large wheelmade and painted closed vessel, almost certainly amphora rather than hydria. Incised potter’s mark at base of vertical handle comprising three deeply incised vertical parallel strokes (clearly pre-firing) at base of handle stump, only partially preserved. Horizontal line, less deeply incised across the vertical strokes, immediately below break (it is unclear whether this horizontal line is pre- or post-firing). Bernard 1964, 122–123, fig. 35, no. 147. Probably Subgeometric (rather than Late Geometric).

_____ 37 Additional examples, incised on transport/storage amphorae, are listed below under category (iv). 38 The material, Subgeometric in the main, derives from two sondages: I (Champ Héraclis) and II (region Est du champ Dimitriadis); for context, see Bernard 1964, 78–87.

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(ii) HANDMADE POTTERY Southern Pieria, foothills of Mt. Olympos I have not had occasion to study this material closely; I noted the following mark in the Dion Museum. The material is to be published by Effie PoulakiPantermali. B34. Dion Museum, no. 685. Handmade jug with cutaway neck, local. Two neatly impressed triangular, wedge-shaped marks on body at base of handle. Unpublished. Probably Late Protogeometric – Sub-Protogeometric.

Ithake, Aetos The following two vessels were made known to me by Nancy Symeonoglou, to whom I am most grateful. Both are described as coarse vessels. B35. Aetos. Fragmentary handle from round-mouthed jug, local. Deeply incised cross on the outer surface of the handle. Unpublished. Protogeometric-7th century BCE. B36. Aetos. Fragmentary handle, probably from amphora, local. Three incised parallel lines. Unpublished. Protogeometric-7th century BCE.

(iii) REFERENCE MARKS ON EARY IRON AGE PYXIDES I had completely overlooked this important group of potters’ marks in Hesperia 1994, although they should have been known to me. Many pyxides, including examples of the shape that are globular, flat, and pointed, have “reference marks,” one of the few categories of Early Iron Age potters’ marks the function of which is clear. As Evelyn Smithson elaborated, reference marks are “casual gashes or ‘X’s,’ matching on underside of lid and lip or top of shoulder. There is a pair of such marks, always diametrically opposite and near the tie-holes. They seem to indicate that this lid belongs to this pot and that it fits best in this posi-

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tion. The ‘reference marks’ appear to have served as a temporary guide until the tie-holes could be punched. The tie-holes were made by one stroke passing through lid and lip, after painting had been completed, but while the clay was still soft enough to be displaced slightly. ‘Reference marks’ were rarely smoothed away, almost never from the body, although glaze sometimes obscures them. On Agora P 7204 … the one preserved tie-hole cuts straight through a sloppy ‘X’ incised on the flange.”39 Indeed, these reference or guide-marks, always incised before firing, indicated the correct positioning of the tie-holes on both the rim and lid. Such references marks—like other categories of potters’ marks—have been generally overlooked, though they are occasionally noted.40 As I have studied most carefully those pyxides from tombs in the Agora, I will begin with them; several of the Agora pyxides preserve string marks and a few also preserve tie-marks.41 The Agora pyxides listed here are only those few that were deposited in tombs of the Early Iron Age, through the close of the Middle Geometric period. Given the number of reference marks from such a circumscribed sample—also the number of Geometric pyxides with reference marks in the Royal Ontario Museum—the list presented here should be viewed as a bare minimum; I am sure there are many more.

Athens, Agora B37. Agora T15-6 (P 27634). Fig. 23. Globular pyxis, with lid. Short vertical stoke at the top of the shoulder, just below each tie-hole. The position of these strokes and the fact that they are not deeply incised, suggest that they may be string marks, though they could also serve as reference marks. This lid does not appear to have been made for this box, but was found with it. It does not rest tightly against the recessed flange. Two pairs of opposite tie-holes, each with reference marks, diametrically opposed strokes on underside of lid, just to the right of each set of tie-holes. Smithson 1968, 87, no. 6; Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T15-6. Early Geometric II.

_____ 39 Smithson 1968, 87. Agora P 7204 is a pointed pyxis that should be EG II, published in Brann 1961, 107–108, pl. 18, no. I 24, described by Smithson (1968, p. 87) as “EG II rubbish in a MG II context.” P 7204 is almost certainly a displaced tomb pot. 40 E.g., Hayes 1992, 4–8, nos. 3, 5–7, 10; there are none mentioned in Bohen 1988. 41 String marks are described more fully in the catalogue below. Tie-marks are lightly incised, post-firing lines or scratches, usually on the body of a pyxis (e.g., Agora T59–2, see below), evidently the result of tying the lid and pyxis box together. It is unclear whether tie-marks are ancient or modern.

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Papadop_023

Figure 23: Athenian Agora T15-6 (P 27634), reference marks on globular pyxis, with lid (B37). Drawing Anne Hooton. B38. Agora T15-7 (P 27717). Globular pyxis (no lid). Possible reference mark, consisting of an incised stroke between two tie-holes; this may be accidental rather than an intentional mark. Smithson 1968, 88–89, no. 7; Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T15-7. Early Geometric II. B39. Agora T15-9 (P 27638). Fragments of globular pyxis/pyxides. Reference mark: vertical stroke on shoulder, about 0.025 to the left of the preserved tiehole. The position of this mark is unique with reference to the tie-hole and may represent either an aborted reference mark, or else some other form of potter’s mark. Smithson 1968, 89, no. 9; Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T15-9. Early Geometric II. B40. Agora T15-13 (P 27640). Fig. 24. Pointed pyxis (no lid). Reference mark: a single vertical stroke on the shoulder aligns with the center of the hole. Smithson 1968, 90, no. 13; Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T15–13. Early Geometric II.

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Figure 24: Athenian Agora T15-13 (P 27640), reference mark on pointed pyxis (B40). Drawing Anne Hooton and Freya Evenson. B41. Agora T15-14 (P 27660). Fig. 25a. Fragmentary pyxis lid. Reference mark: vertical stroke deeply incised on underside of lid between the tie-holes. Smithson 1968, 90–91, no. 14; Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T15-14. Early Geometric II. B42. Agora T18-3 (P 17484). Fig. 25b. Flat pyxis, with lid. Reference marks: vertical stroke, deeply incised on underside of lid, between one pair of tie-holes, but not quite centered. Shorter diagonal stroke on flanged rim top between one pair of tie-holes, also not quite centered. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T18-3. Middle Geometric I. B43. Agora T18-4 (P 17483). Fig. 25c. Flat pyxis, with lid. Reference marks: shallow diagonal short stroke on flange; longer and deeper vertical stroke between tie-holes on underside of lid, both not quite centered. Diagonal stroke, perhaps accidental, next to tie-holes on opposite side of lid. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T18-4. Middle Geometric I. B44. Agora T18-5 (P 17482). Flat pyxis, with lid. A short incised nick on the underside of the lid, centered on one of the tie-hole, and another diametrically opposite near another tie-hole, look more like string impressions than intentionally incised reference marks. Papadopoulos/ Smithson forthcoming, T18-5. Middle Geometric I. B45. Agora T18-9 (P 17479). Fig. 25d. Flat pyxis, with lid. Reference marks: a large incised cross “X” on the underside of lid between one pair of tie-holes; small line, barely a nick, but clearly incised, between the same pair of

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tie-holes at edge, extending the line of the cross, but not connected to it. Matching “X,” slightly smaller and less deeply incised on shoulder exterior, between one set of tie-holes, aligns with that on lid. The “X” on the box exterior was clearly incised prior to painting; its location is rare in comparison to reference marks on other pieces. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T18-9. Middle Geometric I.

Papadop_025

Figure 25: Incised potters marks: a) Agora T15-14 (B41); b) Agora T18-3 (B42); c) Agora T18-4 (B43); d) Agora T18-9 (B45); e) Agora T18-15 (B48); f) Kerameikos 4240 (B58). Drawings Anne Hooton and Freya Evenson.

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B46. Agora T18-10 (P 17473). Fig. 26a. Flat pyxis, with lid. No clear reference marks. A rough gash, made before painting, is found on the flange midway between the two sets of tie-holes, on one side only; it bears no relationship to anything on the lid and it is a highly unlikely reference mark. String marks on underside of lid rim: two opposite pairs of string marks, midway between the two sets of tie-holes (cf. T18-11); they have no counterpart on the box. These marks appear to be the impressions made by a string or strings used for lifting the lid while the fabric or paint was drying. Such string marks are found primarily, as one would expect, on lids that are flat. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T18-10. Middle Geometric I. B47. Agora T18-11 (P 17476). Fig. 26b. Flat pyxis, with lid. Reference marks: short stroke between one set of tie-holes on flange; a longer, matching, incised stroke between one set of tie-holes on underside of lid. Single opposite string marks on underside of lid, about 30o from the tie-holes. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T18-11. Middle Geometric I.

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Figure 26: Incised potters’ marks and string marks: a) Agora T18-10 (B46); b) Agora T18-11 (B47). Drawings Anne Hooton and Freya Evenson.

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B48. Agora T18-15 (P 17485). Fig. 25e. Flat pyxis, with lid. Reference marks: long vertical stroke centered between one set of tie-holes on underside of lid; corresponding stroke, only partially preserved, between one set of tie-holes on flange. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T18-15. Middle Geometric I. B49. Agora T18-16 (P 17475). Fig. 27. Pointed pyxis, with lid. Reference marks: a short stroke on underside of lid near one tie-hole; a similar stroke, slightly diagonal, on shoulder of pyxis box below one of the tie-holes. On the rim, next to the tie-hole with the reference mark, three very short strokes that look deliberate, incised prior to painting, but which may be accidental; there are no corresponding marks on the body. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T18-16. Middle Geometric I.

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Figure 27: Agora T18-16 (B49). Drawing Anne Hooton.

B50. Agora T18-23 (P 17465). Pyxis lid. Reference mark: a comparatively short, vertical stroke centered between one pair of tieholes. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T18-23. Middle Geometric I.

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B51.

Agora T19-2 (P 540). Flat pyxis, with lid. Reference mark: incised diagonal stroke centered between two tie-holes on one side only; part of one matching tie-hole survives on the preserved lid fragment. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T19-2. Middle Geometric I.

B52. Agora T20-7 (P 544). Flat pyxis, with lid. Reference mark: an incised stroke on flange between one set of tie-holes only. The corresponding part of the lid is lost (there is no reference mark between the preserved tie-holes). A short incision on underside of lid about midway toward the center is probably accidental. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T20-7. Middle Geometric I. B53. Agora T20-8 (P 545). Flat pyxis, with lid. Reference marks: an incised stroke between one set of tie-holes on flanged rim and lid. The one on the pyxis rim is shallow and neatly incised, that on the lid longer and very deeply cut, almost a gash. This deeper stroke is now somewhat less clear, since the lid has cracked and broken partly along the line of the incised stroke, but it is nevertheless quite clear. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T20-8. Middle Geometric I. B54. Agora T23-3 (P 28000). Large flat pyxis, with lid. Reference marks (incised prior to painting): firm, but lightly incised, short vertical stroke on exterior on the shoulder of the box below two the tie-holes on opposite sides of the vessel (the corresponding mark for the third preserved tie-hole is obscured by chipping). No preserved reference marks on the lid. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T23-3. Middle Geometric II. B55. Agora T25-4 (P 15513). Fragmentary flat pyxis, with lid. No certain reference marks, though there is a very irregular horizontal gash, probably accidental, between the preserved pair of tie-holes on the flange. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T25-4. Middle Geometric II. B56. Agora T59-1 (P 4884). Fig. 28a–b. Flat pyxis, with lid. Reference marks: incised cross between one pair of tie-holes on flange; similar, but more deeply incised cross between one set of tie-holes on underside of lid. Between the opposite pair of tie-holes, a short vertical stroke on flange and lid.

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Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T59-1. Middle Geometric II. B57. Agora T59-2 (P 4883). Flat pyxis, with lid. Reference marks: rather spindly incised cross between one pair of tie-holes on lid, not quite centered. There are some scratches between one pair of tie-holes on rim, but these appear to be post-depositional damage and not reference marks. The same set of tie-holes does, however, has a possible reference mark in the form of a short, incised diagonal stroke extending from one of the tie-holes. It is not absolutely clear whether the latter is intentional or accidental. There is a similar diagonal, but less deeply or clearly incised, extending from one of the tie-holes on the opposite side. Papadopoulos/Smithson forthcoming, T59-2.

Papadop_028

Figure 28: Incised potters’ marks: a)–b) Agora T59-1 (B56). Drawings Anne Hooton and Freya Evenson.

Athens, Kerameikos B58. Kerameikos, inv. 4240. Fig. 25f. Flat pyxis, with lid. Incised horizontal stroke between one pair of tie-holes on rim (no mark on the opposite tie-holes); corresponding incised diagonal-horizontal stroke on underside of lid near one pair of tie-holes only. Bohen 1988, 95, Beil. 8, no. 169 (not noted). Late Geometric.

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Athenian, uncertain provenance42 The pyxides now in the Royal Ontario Museum with reference marks were acquired in 1930 as part of a single grave group.43 That they are of Athenian manufacture is clear enough. B59. Toronto, Royal Ontario Museum, inv. 930.12.6A-B (formerly C1029). Pointed pyxis, with lid. An X incised prior to firing on underside of lid close to one string-hole to indicate correct positioning. Hayes 1992, 4–5, no. 3. Middle Geometric I. B60. Toronto, Royal Ontario Museum, inv. 930.12.11A-B (formerly C1034). Pointed pyxis, with lid. Hayes notes: “An ‘X’ incised before firing on underside of lid beside one string-hole; similar mark (fainter) on outside of body below rim indicates correct positioning.” Hayes 1992, 5–6, no. 5. Middle Geometric I. B61. Toronto, Royal Ontario Museum, inv. 930.12.12 (formerly C1035). Pointed pyxis (no lid). Hayes notes: “Single string-hole pierced through flange on each side for attachment of (missing) lid; an incised vertical line and (on other side) and incised ‘+’ indicate positioning.” Hayes 1992, 6, no. 6. Middle Geometric I. B62. Toronto, Royal Ontario Museum, inv. 930.12.12 (formerly C1036). Pointed pyxis (no lid). Hayes notes: “Three incised lines on flange around one string-hole (for positioning of lid). Hayes 1992, 6, no. 7. Middle Geometric I. B63. Toronto, Royal Ontario Museum, inv. 930.12.15A-B (formerly C1040). Flat pyxis, with lid. Hayes notes: “A small incised ‘X’ on flange between one set of holes and two slashes on underside of lid are guide-marks.” Hayes 1992, 8, no. 10. Middle Geometric I.

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42 In addition to the pyxides with reference marks in Toronto and Providence listed below, I think that I can also see an incised cross on the flanged rim of a pyxis in Oxford: Catling and Mannack 2010, 21, pl. 48, no. 2. 43 They were originally published in Iliffe 1931.

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B64. Providence, Rhode Island School of Design, Museum of Art, Acc. no. 24.022. Flat pyxis, with lid. Incised cross (X) between one set of holes both on the flanged rim and the underside of the lid. Luce 1933, 18, pl. 8, no. 4. Middle Geometric.

(iv) WHEELMADE TRANSPORT AMPHORAE I have added the following vessels as a new category, as there were no wheelmade transport/storage amphoras known to me with incised potters’ marks in 1994 that could be dated before or near 700 BCE. Two amphorae are from Eretria, assigned to the Late Geometric period, and two were found in the “Ypogeio” at Methone.44 The example from Thasos presented above (B33), may as easily be listed here, though it is decorated. I have also listed several incised marks on transport amphorae from Kommos that are 7th century BCE.

Eretria The two following incised marks are found on the handles of transport or storage amphorae. B65. Eretria, FK99277. Vertical handle, neck-handled transport/storage amphora. Incised X at midpoint of handle. Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 71, no. 48. Late Geometric. B66. Eretria, 69, D659. Handle fragment, transport/storage amphora, imported. Incised symbol comprising long vertical stroke with two parallel horizontal strokes, only partially preserved. Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 71, no. 49. Context uncertain, perhaps Late Geometric/Subgeometric.

_____ 44 I do not include incised potters’ marks on vessels from Methone that are later (7th or 6th century BCE).

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Methone B67. Methone, ΜEΘ 2420. Fig. 29. Samian transport amphora. Incised pre-firing mark classified as an ‘N’ (retrograde) on the shoulder, immediately below the neck. There are, in addition, several post-firing marks, one immediately below the pre-firing mark (considered to be an Archaic Χ), another to one side (considered to be Η or Ζ). As the ‘N’ is isolated, I am not absolutely certain whether it is alphabetic or non-alphabetic. Methone Pierias I, 362–364, no. 17. Late 8th or early 7th century BCE.

Papadop_029

Figure 29: Samian transport amphora, Methone ΜΕΘ 2420 (B67): incised pre-firing mark classified as an ‘N’ (retrograde) on shoulder, immediately below neck. There are, in addition, several post-firing marks, one immediately below the pre-firing mark.

B68. Methone, ΜEΘ 2422. Fig. 30. Fragmentary transport amphora, undetermined provenance. There are a series of post-firing marks, one on the center of the neck on one side, another on the shoulder. At the base of one of the handles an idiosyncratic mark, clearly incised before firing (with likely post-depositional damage immediately above the mark). Methone Pierias I, 480–481, no. 150. Late 8th or early 7th century BCE.

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Papadop_030

Figure 30: Fragmentary transport amphora, undetermined provenance, Methone ΜΕΘ 2422 (B68): a series of post-firing marks and, at the base of one of the handles, an idiosyncratic mark, clearly incised before firing (with likely post-depositional damage immediately above the mark).

Examples of 7th-century BCE pre-firing marks from pottery at Kommos include the following: – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 120, no. 42, inv. I 27, pl. 2.3 (Corinthian or local). – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 120–121, no. 43, inv. I 34, pls. 2.3, 2.11 (East Greek). – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 121, no. 47, inv. I 46, pls. 2.3, 2.11 (Klazomenian?). – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 121, no. 50, inv. I 40, pl. 2.3 (Corinthian or local). – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 123, no. 61, inv. I 44, pl. 2.4 (East Greek, probably Milesian). – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 123, no. 62, inv. C 8397, pls. 2.4, 2.11 (Laconian). – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 124, no. 67, inv. I 48, pl. 2.4 (Lesbian). – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 124, no. 68, inv. I 49, pl. 2.4 (Klazomenian?). – Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 124, no. 69, inv. I 59, pl. 2.4 (East Greek, probably Milesian).

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Group C: Stamped impressions on fineware and coarseware vessels This was a small group of five examples, all from settlement contexts, four from Corinth (C1–4), one from Pithekoussai (C5).45 They range in date from Middle to Late Geometric. Most appear to be on Corinthian handmade vessels.46 I know of no new examples of this category on coarseware vessels, but there is one small body fragment deriving from a small, wheelmade and painted open vessel from Methone (C6). The new piece is of interest because the same stamped circle appears at least three times on the fragment. It is assigned to the later 8th or earlier 7th century BCE. I am also listing two other interesting pieces from Kommos on Crete, which are 7th century BCE. C6.

Methone, ΜEΘ 2344. Fig. 31. Small body fragment, locally-made Thermaic Gulf small open vessel. Three stamped circles on one side of the sherd, as preserved arranged in a horizontal row; two of the circles are fully preserved, one is only partially preserved. The circles were impressed using the same tool Methone Pierias I, 389, no. 39. Late 8th or early 7th century BCE.

Papadop_031

Figure 31: Group C potters’ marks. Small body fragment, locally-made Thermaic Gulf small open vessel, Methone ΜΕΘ 2344 (C6), with three stamped circles arranged in a horizontal row.

_____ 45 Papadopoulos 1994, 453, 470–471. 46 As noted in Papadopoulos 1994, 470–471, the same stamp used on D5 seems to have been also used to decorate a terracotta plaque found at the Heraion on Samos; the motif is repeated at least eight times on the plaque (with references).

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C7.

Kommos I 38. Handle fragment, large closed vessel (probably amphora). Fabric described as “Iron Age, but not identified.” Stamp on upper right side of vertical handle. The stamp itself is compared to a Geometric example from Corinth (Pfaff 1988, 39. pl. 31, no. 112). Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 120, pl. 2.3 (= D12). Before the end of the 7th century BCE.

C8.

Kommos C11312 (52A/3:14, temple dump). Rim and neck fragment, Milesian transport amphora. Johnston (2005, 368) writes: “Four pre-firing punch marks, two overlapping, in a line on the neck. The punch is 0.4 in diameter and contains a simple cross. Johnston 2005, 368, fig. 29, no. 215. 7th century BCE.

In his discussion of C8, Johnston also notes: “Naturally the original intended use of such a punch is an interesting question, and one’s thoughts drift inevitably to the use of similarly sized punches in early coinage.”47 In contrast, I suspect that the marks on the Methone fragment were made with a simple tool.

Group D: Finger or thumb impressions at base of handle I have not pursued this category perhaps as conscientiously as other types of potters’ marks, but in addition to the nine examples I assembled in 1994 from Athens and Corinth, I know of at least two more examples that are Protogeometric and a few more that are Subgeometric (7th century BCE). Of the examples in Hesperia 1994, only one (D1) was on a wheelmade pot, which is quite early, dating as it does to latest Mycenaean/Submycenaean; the remainder were on handmade vessels (D2–D9). The two new Protogeometric examples are both on wheelmade and painted pots from Athens and are a welcome addition to such impressions on wheelmade pottery. The later examples from Kommos are also wheelmade. Athens, Kerameikos D10. Kerameikos, inv. 915. Fig. 32a. Neck-handled amphora. Thumb or finger impression at the base of both handles. Kübler 1943, 33, pl. 5, inv. 915 (Grave 25). Protogeometric.

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47 Johnston 2005, 368, no. 215.

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D11.

Kerameikos, inv. 524. Fig. 32b. Trefoil oinochoe. Very small circular impression at the base of the sole handle. The impression is too small to have been made by an adult potter’s finger or thumb, and was probably made by some other implement. Kraiker/Kübler 1939, 102–103, fig. 7 (Grab A); Ruppenstein 2007, pl. 46. Protogeometric.

Papado32a/b

Figure 32: Group D potters’ marks, finger or thumb impressions at base of handle: a) Kerameikos, inv. 915 (D11); b) Kerameikos, inv. 524 (D12). Photos author.

Crete, Kommos The few examples from the Iron Age levels at Kommos assembled below are all of 7th century BCE date. One, D12, also bears a stamp (see C7). D12. Kommos, I 38. Handle fragment, large closed vessel (probably amphora). Fabric described as “Iron Age, but not identified.” Three finger impressions at the base of the handle, where it joins the shoulder. Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 120, pl. 2.3. Before the end of the 7th century BCE by context. D13. Kommos, I 69. Body and handle fragment, large amphora of East or North Greek type. Large and deep finger or thumb impression at base of handle, with post-firing mark above. Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 123, pl. 2.4. 7th century BCE, probably latter half, by context.

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D14. Kommos, I 62. Handle fragment, large amphora, perhaps of East Greek origin? Finger impressions at the base of the handle, oblique post-firing scratchings/marks around the finger impression. Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 125, pl. 2.4; Johnston 1993, 373, no. 146. Latter half of the 7th century BCE.

Group E: Painted figures (Attic Protogeometric horses and birds) In Hesperia 1994 I listed only three examples, two from Athens (E1–E2), one from Lefkandi (E3), and I also referred to several comparative pieces, again from Athens.48 I know of no new examples other than those I noted in 1994, although I remain sanguine that this is a specific category of potters’ marks. In terms of placement on the vessel and probably also function they are remarkably similar to the marks of Group A, the only difference being that they are figurative. I will return to this and other categories in the discussion below.

Group F: Alphabetic inscriptions, painted or incised before firing, consisting of more than one letter This is a new group. It includes both painted and incised marks that are clearly alphabetic, comprising more than one letter, made before firing on any type of pot dating before 700 BCE. Although one of the fragments from Eretria (F2) preserves only one letter, the small size of the piece and its similarity to F1 warrants its inclusion here. I do not include here B67 from Methone, as the mark, clearly incised before firing, considered to be a retrograde ‘N’ is isolated and I cannot be certain whether or not it is alphabetic. I have also included the pre-firing inscription on the terracotta spindlewhorl, bead, or button, F5, since terracotta objects, including loomweights and spindlewhorls are found together in Early Iron Age kiln contexts.49

_____ 48 Papadopoulos 1994, 455–457. 49 See, among others, Papadopoulos 1989, 2013 for the Early Iron Age potter’s kiln at Torone, and Papadopoulos 2003, 126–186, 217–219, for kilns and ceramic production discards, including terracotta objects other than pottery, in Early Iron Age Athens.

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Eretria F1.

Eretria, fosse 211, FK00382. Fig. 33. One-handled cup. Painted alphabetic possessive in white paint on exterior of body: ← ]λχαδεοεμι. Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 59, no. 1. Late Geometric.

Papadop_033

Figure 33: Eretria, fosse 211, FK00382 (F1), Euboean one-handled cup: painted alphabetic possessive in white paint on exterior of body ←]λχαδεοεμι. Drawing courtesy École Suisse d’Archéologie en Grèce.

F2.

Eretria, FK01611. Fig. 34. Small body fragment, one-handled cup. Painted ε (←) in white paint on exterior of body. Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 60, no. 2. Late Geometric.

Papadop_034

Figure 34: Eretria, FK01611 (F2), small body fragment, Euboean one-handled cup: painted ε ← in white paint on exterior of body, as preserved. Drawing courtesy École Suisse d’Archéologie en Grèce.

F3.

Eretria, FK78200. Fig. 35. Fragmentary one-handled cup. Three preserved letters incised on exterior of body: ← ]⊕οπ[.

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Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 60, no. 3. Context disturbed, date uncertain, but probably Late Geometric.

Papadop_035

Figure 35: Eretria, FK78200 (F3), fragmentary Euboean one-handled cup: three preserved letters incised on exterior of body (pre-firing): ] ⊕οπ[ ←. Drawing courtesy École Suisse d’Archéologie en Grèce. F4.

Eretria, édifice 2, FK73113. Fig. 36. Rim fragment, coarse “lebes.” Incised alphabetic inscription immediately below rim, only partially preserved: ← ]ιερ[. Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 74–75, no. 62. Late Geometric. Papadop_036

Figure 36: Eretria, edifice 2, FK73113 (F4). Rim fragment, coarse “lebes”, with incised alphabetic inscription immediately below rim, only partially preserved: ]ιερ[ ←. Drawing courtesy École Suisse d’Archéologie en Grèce.

F5.

Eretria, fosse 26, FK80398, Δ1688. Fig. 37a–b. Terracotta spindlewhorl, bead, or button. Incised alphabetic inscription around body of terracotta: → ? δαι ανα (pre-firing). Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 75–76, no. 65. Late Geometric.

Papadop_037a

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Papadop_037b

Figure 37: Eretria, fosse 26, FK80398, Δ1688 (F5), terracotta spindlewhorl, bead, or button: incised alphabetic inscription around body of terracotta (pre-firing): δαι ανα → ?. a) Drawing; b) Photographs. Courtesy École Suisse d’Archéologie en Grèce.

Pithekoussai Two of the following three inscriptions are well known, and include the earliest extant alphabetic signature of a vase-painter (F6). F6.

Pithekoussai, Mazzola, inv. MANN 239083. Fig. 38. Rim and upper body fragment, krater, locally produced. Painted alphabetic signature, in horizontal register, framed by lines above and below, on uppermost shoulder, immediately below rim, only partially preserved: ← ]ινοςμεποιεσε. Jeffery 1982, 829, fig. 106:2; Johnston 1983, 64, fig. 4; Powell 1991, 128, no. 10; Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 177, 219, fig. 43, no. 43. Ca. 700 BCE.

Papadop_038

Figure 38: Pithekoussai, Mazzola, inv. MANN 239083 (F6), krater fragment, locally produced, with painted alphabetic signature: ]ινοςμεποιεσε ←.

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F7.

Pithekoussai, S. Montano Cemetery, inv. MANN 166780. Fig. 39. Footed krater, Euboean. Painted alphabetic “sacred inscription,” in horizontal register, framed by lines above and below, on upper part of tall pedestal foot: ← ]εξ θεο. Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 177–178, 220, fig. 44, no. 44. Ca. 720 BCE. Papadop_039

Figure 39: Pithekoussai, S. Montano Cemetery, inv. MANN 166780 (F7), Euboean footed krater, with painted alphabetic dipinto in horizontal register on upper part of tall pedestal foot: ]εξ θεο ←.

F8.

Pithekoussai, Scarico Gosetti, inv. MANN 170144. Fig. 40. Rim and upper body fragment, one-handled cup or skyphos, locally produced but Euboean inspired (cf. F1, F2). Painted alphabetic dipinto in white paint on uppermost body on exterior, immediately below rim: ← ]λειτ. Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 178–179, fig. 45, no. 45. Late Geometric.

Papadop_040

Figure 40: Pithekoussai, Scarico Gosetti, inv. MANN 170144 (F8), one-handled cup or skyphos rim fragment, locally produced but Euboean inspired, with painted alphabetic dipinto in white paint: ]λειτ ←.

F9.

Pithekoussai, Lacco Ameno, 1994. Rim fragment, large locally-produced krater. Incised graffito thought to represent a constellation, with a linked ← B. At least two stars and the letter B (thought to stand for the name of the constellation Boötes [Arctophylax]) linked by lines themselves defining something of a star-pattern. The idea that the graffito represents a constellation was first made by Pietro Monti, and

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further discussed by Nicolas Coldstream and George Huxley, as well as in Bartoněk/Buchner 1995. Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 179–180, 221, fig. 46, no. 46; Monti 1996; Coldtream/Huxley 1996. Late Geometric, ca. 700 BCE (Coldstream in Coldstream/Huxley 1996, 222).

Discussion: The Function of Potters’ Marks The only category of mark where the function is straightforward is, ironically, the only one overlooked in 1994: reference marks on Early Iron Age pyxides. As for the function of the remainder, the patterns we have for the Early Iron Age, as well as the quantity of marks, is not as robust as that in the Bronze Age, though it is increasing. In the majority of cases it seems unlikely that the marks function to indicate capacity, on account of the fact that similar marks—such as the ubiquitous crosses—appear on vessels of different shapes and sizes, as well as different function: cups and amphorae being cases in point. Numerical value is also unlikely, although some of the strokes and dots could well refer to numbers. The problem lies in the fact that there is a lack of clear patterning. Here the X = 10, now most recently discussed by Samuel Verdan, is certainly interesting,50 though what is abundantly clear is that the Xs serving as reference marks on Early Iron Age pyxides are clearly not numerical, and the same appears to be the case for the Xs on most, if not all, other types of vessels. Establishing commodity as the function of the marks faces the same challenges as capacity, and again the problem is that there is no clear patterning. The only possible exception is the mark conceivably, but far from certainly, denoting “water” or “liquid” on the underside of a solitary Argive pouring vessel that I noted in 1994.51 The mark consists of five parallel zigzags framed on all four sides by single zigzags. In the context of Argive Late Geometric, John Boardman has argued that the multiple zigzag may, in certain cases, represent “water,” 52 serving as a parallel to the Egyptian hieroglyphic ﹏ (phonetic value = n). Whether or not the symbol denotes water or liquid remains moot, as the undersides of such pouring vessels are commonly decorated.53 In a similar vein, owner’s marks are unlikely as the majority, if not all genuine owners’ marks, are post-firing, such as the recently published examples from Me-

_____ 50 Verdan, this volume. 51 Papadopoulos 1994, 445–446, pl. 113b, A30. 52 Boardman 1983, 19, with fig. 2.4a, b (= Courbin 1966), pl. 40; Courbin (1966, 475), sees the multiple wavy lines as the offspring of the old multiple-brush pattern. 53 See Courbin 1966, 311; Pfaff 1988, 56.

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thone.54 The only exception thus far appears to be the alphabetic dipinto on F1 (and note also the potter’s signature on F6). That some of the potters’ marks assembled here and in 1994 are symbols denoting specially commissioned, preordered, prepaid, or reserved pots—or sets of pots—seems possible, as least in certain cases. Indeed, Vincent Desborough had noted two Athenian Protogeometric skyphoi, each with a painted cross beneath one handle, found at Knossos.55 The fact that these marks were painted by the potter before the pots were fired appears to bolster such an interpretation, though it is clear that any such interpretation is far from certain and Desborough rightly issued a word of warning. In his discussion of them, Desborough writes that these “have one peculiarity in common—a roughly painted cross beneath one of the handles; it is tempting to suppose that the potter who made them had perhaps marked them thus as for export, but apart from the unlikelihood of such a theory, a skyphos of Type IV, found in the Kerameikos, has the same distinguishing mark, and there is no reason to doubt that this vase was made locally.”56 In the context of workshop production, what is striking, however, is the similarity of the Early Iron Age stamped marks with the later Greek stamped amphora handles. As I have noted, the quantity of such marks is not great, but the majority of the Early Iron Age examples are on large Corinthian coarse pots, the precursors of Corinthian A and Aˊ transport amphorae.57 The few new examples of such marks on amphorae assembled here (C7–C8) on late 8th or 7th century transport amphorae include amphora types from the north Aegean, as well as Miletos. This said, stamped marks are not confined to transport amphorae, as the body fragment of a small open vessel of Thermaic Gulf manufacture attests (C6). The most basic purpose of sealing/stamping is to identify property. Thus a mark need not specify a particular commodity, but that the commodity, or the

_____ 54 Methone Pierias I, especially 337–344, nos. 1–3; cf. 345–350, nos.4–7. 55 Desborough 1952, 83–84; Brock 1957, 13, pl. 7, no. 58; 21, pl. 12, no. 187; Papadopoulos 1994, 443, A10 and A11. 56 Desborough 1952, 83–84; Papadopoulos 1994, 437–438. A further important difference between the Early Iron Age potters’ marks, on the one hand, and the Bronze Age and postGeometric marks on the other is that the vast majority of the Bronze Age marks are on pottery in settlement contexts: Bronze Age Phylakopi, Lerna, Keos, and Cyprus, being a few cases in point. Although many of the Early Iron Age potters’ marks also derive from settlements (e.g., those from Ithake), a greater quantity proportionally was found in tombs; see discussion in Papadopoulos 1994, 489–490; for reference to Bronze Age marks, see Papadopoulos 1994, 473, notes 126–127. 57 With further discussion in Papadopoulos 1994, 470–471.

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container in which it was placed, was the property or product of the owner of the seal; the stamp/seal may also have served to guarantee the contents of the vessel.58 A possible clue as to the function of the early post-Mycenaean use of “to seal” is provided by Theognis (1.19–24): “I seal my words of wisdom with your name, Kyrnos; no man can steal them now, nor try to slip his trash in with my excellence, and every man will say, ‘This is the song that great Theognis, the Megarian, sang.’”

A similar use of σφραγί ζω is echoed in Kritias, Elegiac Poems 4. In both passages, whether the “seal of the wise man” or “the seal of my tongue,” σφρηγί ς/ σϕραγίς is used metaphorically as a warrant, guarantee, or signature. In Theognis it is specifically used to guard against theft or plagiarism and to avert the misrepresentation of his meaning. A similar function may well lie behind the stamping of vases in the Early Iron Age. One of the most common interpretations of the Bronze Age and Geometric marks is that they are makers’ marks. The apparent, if not obvious, similarity between the humble Early Iron Age crosses and the ubiquitous X serving as a signature for illiterate people living in our own or past generations is noteworthy. The use of identification marks in Greek literature goes back to Homer. In Iliad 7, 161–199, Nestor, having shamed the Achaeans for not standing up to Hektor’s challenge to fight a man in single combat, moved nine Greeks to spring to their feet as volunteers. Nestor recommended that the winner be chosen by lot and, in accordance with his recommendation, each man marked his lot and these were cast into the helmet of Agamemnon. The marks are referred to as sēmata (σή ματα), not grammata (γρά μματα). The winning lot was circulated by herald among the Achaean throng and was finally recognized by Aias, who knew at a glance his mark: σῆμα. Although a number of philologists would like to think of these sēmata as written letters, this is far from clear in Homer, and I would consider their interpretation as non-alphabetic marks cogent, and perhaps more so than written letters. The use of personal marks in Homer is a significant precursor to their use in lots in general in the Greek world—not only in democratic Athens—and they provide yet another insight into a Greek mindset that sees writing and equality, or rather “equal chances,” as a defining aspect of a community at any given time. In Homer, the equal chances were open only to peers, to those qualified to

_____ 58 This is more fully discussed in Papadopoulos 1994, 482–485.

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participate. This is also true later on, though in time, such an aristocratic principle was widened to incorporate a much larger group; in Athens it was widened to include all male citizens.59 Similarly, the σή ματα λυγρά of Bellerophon in Iliad 6.1168 are more reasonably simple symbols, pictorial tokens, or devices, rather than written letters. The later, Archaic and Classical, meaning of σῆμα, σημεῖον, ἐπί σημα, ἐπί σημον, παρά σημα, whether denoting “sign,” “mark,” “seal,” “signature,” “token,” “device,” or “emblem,” have been reviewed by Jeffrey Spier.60 He notes that most sēmata are common, single-figure motifs, usually animals, that are neither part of a narrative composition nor abbreviations of a more complex scene.61 Here the animals on the Protogeometric vases of my Group E take on a potentially added meaning. It is even possible that some of the horses were painted by the same potter, who used this distinctive design as his mark. Certainly, the vases in question with horses are contemporary, they were made in the Athenian Kerameikos, and their stylistic similarity is striking. So, can we speak of “signatures” this early, already in the Protogeometric period? I would issue a word of caution, but the possibility is a very real one. The earliest alphabetic signature we have is still the sherd from Pithekoussai with the inscription: “[- - -]ινος μ’ ἐποί εσε,” written retrograde, dating to ca. 725–700 BCE. (F6).62 It is precisely here that K.D. Vitelli’s experimental studies with students simulating the processes of the prehistoric potter are so important. She states: “Many of them do mark their creations, usually by incising initials or a symbol on the bottom of their objects.”63 If Vitelli’s students—like the potter craftsmen of Athenian black- and red-figured pottery—felt the urge to sign or mark their vases, then why not the Early Iron Age potter? And if a potter had this urge in the pre-alphabetic Protogeometric period, then what sort of symbol would s/he use?64 I would think that an X, just like a horse or bird, would do very nicely.

_____ 59 I am grateful to one of the editors of this volume, Jenny Strauss Clay, for her comments on this important aspect. 60 Spier 1990. 61 Spier 1990, 127–128. 62 See Peruzzi 1973, pl. III; Jeffery 1976, fig. 1; Jeffery 1982, 829, fig. 2; Heubeck 1979, 123, fig. 50; Johnston 1983, 64, fig. 4; Powell 1991, 128, no. 10. For the signatures of later Athenian potters and painters especially useful are the comments of Alan Boegehold 1985, 15–32. 63 Vitelli 1977, 27. 64 What is interesting is that some of the early black-figure signatures, together with all manner of pictorial experimentation, occur beneath or near the handle of a vase, just like many earlier potters’ marks. This is certainly a topic that requires further investigation.

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To Write and To Paint One thing seems reasonably clear: Early Iron Age potters’ marks, like those of the Bronze Age, are intentional and they mean, or refer to, something. In dealing with the Aegean Bronze Age, Sterling Dow wrote “… we may urge that most potters’ marks are not meaningless whimsical scratches, but are lines drawn with full intent; they mean something. Whatever the purpose(s) … the impulse was common.”65 Dow recognized in potters’ marks some connection, however remote, to literacy: “potters’ marks were in the soil from which literacy grew.”66 Other scholars, like Maurice Pope, believed that certain Bronze Age potters’ marks suggest, but by no means prove, a contemporary knowledge of writing.67 Yet others, like Anna Sacconi, concluded that potters’ marks in the Bronze Age do not constitute a system of any kind and that any resemblance they may have to Aegean scripts is purely fortuitous.68 Indeed, any quest to see Linear B or alphabetic symbols in potters’ marks may be doomed, but to do so is to miss the point. There is something deeper that is so often overlooked in the study of potters’ marks, something that is enshrined in the Greek psyche and language: There is in Greek no distinction between the word to write and to paint. The word γρά φειν/γρά φω may denote any number of meanings, including to scratch (e.g., σή ματα γρά ψας ἐν πί νακι: “having scratched marks or figures on a tablet”); to sketch, draw (e.g., γῆς περιό δους γρά φω: “draw maps”), or paint; to write (e.g., γρά φειν εἰς διφθέ ρας: “to write on skins”); to write (e.g., γρά φειν εἰς στή λην: “to inscribe a stele”); to brand (e.g., ἐν τῷ προσώπῳ γραφεὶς τὴν συμφορά ν: “having it branded on his forehead”), or, generally, to write down.69 In Athenian black-figured pottery of the 6th century BCE the distinction between to write and to paint becomes very blurred. In the celebrated amphora signed by Exekias, now in the Vatican, not only are Achilles and Ajax shown playing a game of chance—both heroes named, Ajax’s name left to right, Achilles’ retrograde)—but we also know what they have thrown (Fig. 41).70 As the best of the Achaians, Achilles has thrown a “four,” Ajax a “three” (the former num-

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65 Dow 1973, 585. 66 Dow 1973, 585. 67 Pope 1964, 4. 68 Sacconi 1974, 207–209. 69 LSJ, s.v. γρά φω; see also Rumpf 1947, 10; Jucker 1978, 39. In Homer, Iliad 17.599 “…γρά ψεν δέ οἱ ὀστέ ον ἄχρις,” the word γρά ψεν denotes “to cut,” in this case the spear-point of Polydamas cutting to the shoulder bone of Peneleos. 70 Black-figure amphora (type A) by Exekias from Vulci. Museo Gregoriano Etrusco, Vatican 344 (inv. 16757). Beazley 1956, 145, 13; ca. 540/535 BCE. Photo courtesy of the Vatican Museums.

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ber is written left to right, the latter retrograde): Achilles wins. Here nothing is left to chance. Writing and painting tell the same story; they serve the same purpose. In the event that Ajax and Achilles are “speaking” it is through writing and painting that the potter indicates this action. Papadop_041

Figure 41: Black-figure amphora (type A) by Exekias from Vulci. Museo Gregoriano Etrusco, Vatican 344 (inv. 16757). Photo courtesy of the Vatican Museums.

The distinction between to write and to paint is perhaps nowhere more blurred than in the even earlier Athenian black-figure volute krater discovered in Etruria in the so-called François tomb in the 19th century and normally referred to as the François Vase (Fig. 42).71 Dating to about 570 BCE, the vase is signed by Kleitias as painter (ΕΓΡΑΦΣΕΝ), Ergotimos as potter (ΕΠΟΙΕΣΕΝ). It is a veritable encyclopedia of Greek mythology, with more than 250 figures painted, each one named. Not only are the human figures (Achilles, Atalante, Diomedes, Meleager, Peleus, Priam, Theseus, Troilos, to mention only a few), as well as the celestial (e.g., Dionysos, Hephaistos, Hermes, Iris, Thetis, even the Potnia Theron, among others), named, but so too the dogs attacking the Kalydonian boar: ΜΕΘΕΠΟΝ behind Peleus and Meleager; ΟΡΜΕΝΟΣ on his back, disemboweled, in front. Kleitias painstakingly painted each figure and he also named them. For Kleitias there was no distinction between writing and painting.

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71 Beazley 1951, 26–37, pl. 11; Beazley 1956, 76, no. 1; Beazley 1986, 24–34, pls. 23–28; Arias/ Hirmer/Shefton 1962, 286–292, pls. 40–46.

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Papadop_042

Figure 42: François Vase. Black-figure volute krater signed by Kleitias as painter, Ergotimos as potter. Firenze, Museo Archeologico Etrusco, inv. 4209. Photo courtesy museum.

In pretty short order, writing—not to mention art—enters a completely unimaginable conceptual level. And it is here where the red-figure cup by Do[u]ris, now in Berlin, originally from Cerveteri, showing a schoolroom scene, can be brought into the discussion (Fig. 43).72 The important point about the vase is that it was painted in the early 5th century BCE not by a royal or religious scribe, but by a lowly Athenian potter, a kerameus, not an aoidos or a rhapsoidos. The school scenes on both sides are related to one another: on one side a student is learning to play the kithara from a bearded teacher; while a young boy is taught to read, standing as he does between two older bearded men. On the opposite side another student is taught music, this time the aulos, while a seated, beardless youth is writing on a diptych, observed by a young boy, and an older bearded man. On the first side, the central, seated, bearded man holds up a scroll with writing, which reads:

_____ 72 Beazley 1963, 411–412, no. 48; Sider 2010; Berlin, inv. 2285.

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“Μοῖσά μοι ἀ[μ]φὶ Σκά μανδρον ἐΰρ[ρ]οον ἄρχομαι ἀεί νδεν”

Here it is, in verse, the beginning of a song. “My Muse,” the River Skamander, the word “to sing,” both written and painted. Add Achilles to the mix and your epic is all set!

Papadop_043a

Papadop_043b

Figure 43: a)–b) Both sides of red-figure cup by Do[u]ris, Berlin, Antikenmuseum, inv. 2285. Photo courtesy museum.

As David Sider has recently shown, the schoolroom scene by Douris presents two interdependent problems of reading: one concerns the text on the scroll held up by the teacher.73 Is it hexameters or lyric, and is it part of a pre-existing

_____ 73 Sider 2010.

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poem or an ad hoc composition by the painter? The second problem, as laid out by Sider, is iconographical: how is the viewer to interpret the “action,” and especially the mistakes on the scroll? Sider argues that the verse is in epic hexameter, and that its mistakes are to be attributed to the student, rather than to Douris. I agree with Sider on all except the last point. I very much doubt that a student would have practiced writing on a scroll; this would have been done first on a diptych, such as that depicted on the opposite side of the cup, before being transposed to a scroll. The mistakes are, I think, better attributed to the vase painter, who usually signs his name not as Douris, but as Doris.74 What is most critical here is another issue that is often overlooked. Namely, that the alphabet was introduced, adopted and adapted to the specific cultural context of Early Iron Age Greece. The importance of the place and date of the adoption and adaptation of the alphabet has taken precedence over what I consider a more important issue. For the first time in world history writing was not limited to a scribal class serving a ruling or religious elite, be it in Mesopotamia, the Levant, or in the Linear B world of the Mycenaean palatial system. As I have stated elsewhere: “Henceforth, a bard could reach across centuries to relate a real or imagined world of heroes, a woman could write poetry, a farmer could write of works and days, even on the birth of gods, a playwright could construct figures of high tragedy or slapstick comedy, a seasoned traveler could recount his journeys and the customs of the peoples he chanced across, a failed and frustrated general could write a history of a war, and any male citizen could scratch on a potsherd the name of whomever he wished to ostracize.”75

Coda: The Adoption and Adaptation of the Phoenician Alphabet in the Aegean In 1994, as in the previous section of this paper, I drew attention to the relationship, however tenuous, between potters’ marks and literacy. Since 1994 not only has the number of potters’ marks more than doubled—from 70 to at least 172— but so too the number of post-firing marks, and here the 191 alphabetic and non-alphabetic marks from the “Ypogeio”o at Methone are a case in point. More

_____ 74 Beazley 1963, 425–428; as Beazley (1963, 425) notes, the signature of Douris occurs on 39 vases, mostly cups (i.e., 35 of the 39), and that he nearly always signs as painter, though he does sign as potter and painter on a kantharos, and as potter only on an aryballos. For Douris, see further Buitron-Oliver 1995. 75 Papadopoulos 2014, 192.

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than this, however, is the fact that sometime in the late 8th century BCE, before the close of the Geometric period, Greek potters who were previously painting or incising a number of different symbols on their pots are now painting and incising alphabetic Greek. These pre-firing alphabetic inscriptions are full-fledged potters’ marks. In 1994 there was only the sole potter’s signature from Pithekoussai (F6). This is now joined by two more alphabetic pre-firing inscriptions from Pithekoussai and no fewer than five from Eretria. Moreover, the eight examples of pre-firing alphabetic inscriptions assembled above represent the minimum, as several of the incised one-letter inscriptions from Methone and elsewhere are probably also alphabetic (see especially B67). What is all the more remarkable is that these dipinti and graffiti were not made by scribes, but by potters: the earliest alphabetic Greek we have in captivity is written by potters! Without archaeology and without marks, including alphabetic inscriptions, on pottery—and they are primarily on pottery—from secure contexts, our knowledge of the antiquity of the Greek alphabet would be a sad guessing game. The growing number of Protogeometric and Geometric potters’ marks, together with post-firing marks in the Aegean allows us to return to the critical issues of where and when Greeks adopted and adapted the Phoenician/Aramaic alphabet, issues that continue to exercise scholars.76 So, I want to end this survey by looking very briefly at the potters’ marks of Group F from Eretria and Pithekoussai, together with the new material from Methone and its remarkable corpus of alphabetic and non-alphabetic inscriptions. In many ways, the Methone marks are all the more extraordinary because they range from the familiar to the less familiar, found as they are on pottery from all over the Greek world, and beyond. But Methone, like Eretria, is not off the west coast of Italy, but very much in the Aegean. In this, the largely 7th-century BCE material from Kommos in southern Crete shares a good deal in common with Methone and Eretria, and a few of the inscribed pieces from the site are late 8th century BCE.77 Dating as they do to the late 8th and early 7th century BCE, the Methone marks—pre- and post-firing—are roughly contemporary with the corpus from Pithekoussai, which also consists of pre- and post-firing marks and inscriptions.78 And the five new pre-firing alphabetic inscriptions from Eretria are also Late Geometric. Eretria, however, has yielded an even earlier, Middle Geometric, cup fragment (inv. FK90657), of local fabric, with a Semitic inscription

_____ 76 Compare the schematic language family trees drawn up by Naveh (1982, 10) and Sass (2005, 12); cf. Powell 1991. An earlier and expanded version of this coda, with many more illustrations, was published as Papadopoulos 2016. 77 See Csapo 1991; Johnston 1993, 2005; Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000. 78 For the Pithekoussai marks, see Bartonĕk/Buchner 1995.

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KPLŠ, written retrograde after firing.79 The inscription could be Phoenician or North Syrian or Cilician.80 But who inscribed it? An individual from Phoenicia, North Syria or Cilicia seems the obvious answer, whether a Semitic trader or an Eastern resident alien.81 Indeed, evidence for immigrant craftsmen and others on Crete and in Corinth is straightforward, including examples that date to earlier stages of the Iron Age.82 As for the when, the evidence from Eretria, Pithekoussai and Methone only corroborates that already known. The latest date for the adoption and adaptation would be sometime around 750 BCE, which is in keeping with the earliest Greek inscriptions, such as the Dipylon oinochoe, as well as the date of Semitic prototypes.83 As Benjamin Sass has shown, after the middle of the 8th century BCE, several Phoenician and Aramaic letters evolved away from the shapes that served as models for the corresponding Greek letters.84 The latest evidence, based primarily on letter forms, would suggest that a date range of ca. 825/800– 750 BCE can be substantiated reasonably well by the Semitic evidence.85 The issue of where the transmission or adoption occurred is more problematic, in part because there are no fewer than three alternatives for the mother script of Greek: it could have been exclusively Phoenician, or Phoenician/ Aramaic, or Phrygian deriving from Phoenician.86 In all three, the Phoenician alphabet is the lowest common denominator. As for the physical place or places where the adoption and adaptation took place, several areas in the Mediterranean have been suggested, from Al Mina in the East to Pithekoussai in the West. Cyprus has loomed large in this discussion, especially the Phoenician settlement at Kition, as has Euboea—with eastern inscriptions from Lefkandi and Ere-

_____ 79 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 76–77, no. 66; Papadopoulos 2011, 116, 133, fig. 2a–b. 80 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 76–77. 81 See the discussion in Papadopoulos 2011, 116–120; Bourogiannis 2015. 82 For Crete, see Hoffman 1997; for Corinth, Morris/Papadopoulos 1998. 83 For the Dipylon oinochoe, see Papadopoulos 2014, 191, fig. 10.6. Athens, National Museum 192 [2074], with the inscription: “He who, of all the dancers, now performs most daintily, this is his.” The reading and interpretation of the very last part of the inscription is controversial (and sometimes even thought to be a nonsense-word or a doodle), but there is consensus that the word after ΠΑΙΖΕΙ is ΤΟΤΟ (i.e., τ`τ`, τού του) “of him, of that one,” probably indicating the possessor of the (prizewinning) vessel. 84 This is despite Naveh’s (1982) strong arguments for the adoption occurring earlier, around 1100 BCE. See also Isserlin’s (1982) overview of the earliest alphabetic writing in the Semitic world. 85 Sass 2005, 145. 86 Sass 2005, 133–152.

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tria—and other Aegean islands, including Rhodes and Crete.87 The problem is well framed by Sass: “The fact that at least four different locations for the adoption could be defended so eruditely and with such excellent arguments … indicates that the evidence presented thus far is perhaps less forthcoming than one would wish.”88 For Herodotus the place of transmission was mainland Greece, directly from Phoenicians. The place was Boeotian Thebes, a stone’s throw from the Euboean Gulf and to the Aegean beyond. Whatever date Herodotus had in mind, he does mince his words: “These Phoenicians who came [into Boeotia] with Kadmos … after settling in this district introduced to the Greeks many kinds of learning (διδασκά λια) and particularly writing (γρά μματα), which did not previously exist among the Greeks ….”89

In the same passage, Herodotus goes on to note: “At first they [the Greeks] used the same script as all Phoenicians use. Then, as time went on, they changed, with the language (φωνή ), the shape (ῥυθμό ς) also of the letters. At this time, the Greeks occupying most of the land round them were Ionians. These learnt the letters from Phoenicians, and reformed a few of them and used them, but in this usage spoke of them by name as ‘Phoenician’ (Φοινική ια)—as was just, the Phoenicians having brought them to Greece …. I personally have seen Cadmeian writing (Καδμή ια γρά μματα) in the precinct of Ismenian Apollo in Boeotian Thebes, incised on three tripods, and for the most part similar to the Ionic ….”90

One could add that it is no accident that Homer begins his Catalogue of Ships (Iliad 2.494–759) with Boeotia and the Theban region, and why the Achaean fleet assembled at Aulis is, as Joachim Latacz states, at once explained: “Thebes dominated Mycenaean Greece at the time, and Aulis … had always been the natural harbor of Thebes.”91 Whether or not Thebes was the seat of the ruler of Aḫḫijawa is moot, but it was Thebes where Phoenician Kadmos settled and married Harmonia, and where he introduced, according to Herodotus, writing. Of course, Herodotus may have got it all wrong. What is clear is that we simply do

_____ 87 See Powell 1991, 12–18; Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 76–77; Papadopoulos 2011, 116. 88 Sass 2005, 149. 89 Herodotus 5.58; translated by Lilian Jeffery (1967, 153). The passage is discussed in Jeffery 1967, 1982; see further Murray 1993, 92–101; West 1985, 290–293. 90 Herodotus 5.58; translated by Lilian Jeffery 1967, 153. 91 Latacz 2004, 242–243. I cannot agree with some authors who would make Aulis the “port for Euboean overseas embarkation” (Powell 2002, 196).

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not have sufficient evidence to clinch the issue of the place(s) where the adoption might have happened. If, however, the idea that the mother script of Greek was Phrygian, deriving from Phoenician, is true, then one should look more to places where Greeks, Phoenicians, and Phrygians had early contact. Lilian Jeffery argued that, on the balance of the evidence as preserved, a limited area of origin of the Greek alphabet seemed more likely.92 She favored Al Mina as a promising candidate, with its Greek pottery from Euboea—and elsewhere—and where there is evidence for Greeks dwelling among west Semitic speakers and where Phrygians also had early contact.93 One problem with the Orontes region as the place where the Greeks and Phrygians adopted and adapted the Aramaic script lies in the transmission back to both the Aegean and Phrygia of the newly minted script, which may work for the vowels but not for all the consonants (although the Phrygian and Greek vowels are similar, the same is not true for the respective consonants).94 A more promising area would therefore be the eastern and northern Aegean and western Asia Minor as the place of adaptation.95 The overlap of the shared vowel letters in both Phrygian and Greek seems to rule out an adoption independent of one another: “Either the Phrygian script was adopted from the Phoenician and subsequently the Greek from the Phrygian, or vice versa.”96 Phrygian or Greek precedence, however, relies on absolute chronology, which is a thorny issue.97 This is not the place to enter this chronological debate, but much of the most recently published material would seem to argue for Phrygian chronological precedence, if anything, though the matter is very far from resolved.98 If we are to take this line of reasoning seriously, and the extant evi-

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92 Jeffery 1982, 822. 93 Jeffery 1982, 822–823. In arguing for north Syria or Cilicia as the place where Greeks, Phrygians, and Semitic-speakers coexisted, Rodney Young (1969, 256) noted that until the conquest of the west by Tiglathpileser III in 738 BCE, Cilicia and the Syrian coast should have been freely accessible to the Phrygians and that there is no evidence that communication of this area with the Phrygian interior of Anatolia was cut off after the conquest. Young further adds that in 717 BCE, King Midas was pushing Pisiris of Charchemish to revolt from Assyria. 94 See Krebernik 2007. 95 See Sass 2005, 146–149; cf. Janko, this volume. 96 Sass 2005, 147. 97 See Papadopoulos 2014, 184–186. 98 See various papers in Rose and Darbyshire 2011; Sams 2012 (both with references to earlier material). That Greek writing inspired Etruscan (and indirectly Latin, mediated via Etruscan, together with other native Italic alphabets—Oscan, Umbrian, South Picene, and Venetic) is beyond doubt. What remains problematic is the assumption that Greek writing also “jumped to Phrygian,” as some scholars continue to maintain (e.g., Powell 2002, 109).

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dence is certainly compelling, then we have to add Phrygians to the mix, or a place where Greeks and Phrygians—not only Greeks and Phoenicians—interacted. As Barry Powell noted over a decade ago: “Greeks and Semitic Levantines mixed in the Orontes estuary, Euboea, Boeotia, Samos, Crete, Cyprus, and Italy.”99 Today the locale must include not only Greeks and west Semitic speakers, but Phrygians. This would greatly diminish the primacy of certain locales— Cyprus, some, though not all, of the coastal Levant, Italy, the Nile Delta—as possible places for the adoption and adaptation. As we have seen, Jeffery favored the north Syrian (or Cilician) coast, while others, most recently Roger Woodard, have argued for the importance of Cyprus in the adoption and adaptation of the Phoenican script. As Woodard has argued, the Phoenician consonantal script, together with the two pre-alphabetic Greek writing systems of Linear B and the Cypriot syllabary, all played their part in the historical continuum of Greek literacy and the formation of the alphabet.100 The influence of the Cypriot syllabary is perhaps greatest for particular consonantal strings. As Woodard has recently remarked, the “choice to utilize available graphic raw material in order to incorporate a sign for the consonantal string /ks/ within the Greek alphabet was an arbitrary decision made by the Greek adapters of the Phoenician consonantal script. Though the decision was culturally motivated … by the occurrence of comparable syllabic symbols in the Greek Cypriot syllabary—a writing system in which I judge the Greek adapters of the Phoenician script to have been already literate (and a writing system within which such symbols were required for proper functioning of syllabic spelling). The decision to incorporate a graphic sign for the parallel /ps/ string was subsequently made by persons responsible for extending the Greek alphabet beyond its original Phoenician-set boundaries through the appending of ‘supplemental’ characters.”101 Whether or not the Greek adapters of the Phoenician alphabet were literate in the Greek Cypriot syllabary is a moot point. What is clear is that, as Woodard notes so well in the case of the /ps/ string, the adoption and adaptation of the Phoenician consonantal script did not happen wholescale at one particular time. The case of the vowels, however, demands an alternative narrative, one involving both Greek and Phrygian players. It is precisely here that the north Aegean ancestry of the Phrygians, as related by Herodotus is intriguing:

_____ 99 Powell 2002, 193. 100 See Woodard 1997, 2014, especially 146–149. 101 Woodard 2014, 146.

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“This people [the Phrygians], according to the Macedonian account, were known as Briges during the period when they were Europeans and lived in Macedonia, and changed their name at the same time as, by migrating to Asia, they changed their country.”102

I do not think that Herodotus got it wrong, for although an Indo-European language, and in spite of its geographical location, Phrygian does not belong with the Anatolian sub-group of Indo-European languages, such as Hittite or Lycian, but is much more closely connected with Greek.103 Most recently, Sandra Blakely has been collecting interesting material on Phrygians and Phoenicians on Samothrace.104 Samothrace, however, is not the only north Aegean island with Phoenician complexities. Both Herodotus (2.44) and Pausanias (5.25.12) mention Phoenician presence on Thasos. Additional evidence of Phoenician pottery and writing in the north Aegean has recently come to light, not least from Karabournaki in the Thermaic Gulf, and Torone and Stageira in Chalcidice.105 A related issue is the relationship of the Phrygian language to that of the Thracians living along the north coast of the Aegean. As Woodard has noted: “The Phrygian language does show certain similarities to Thracian, and some linguists have argued for linking the two in a single linguistic unit (ThracoPhrygian).”106 The appropriateness of such a sub-grouping, however, remains uncertain, largely on account of the dearth of conclusive evidence,107 but it is in keeping with the testimony of Herodotus. Moreover, there is additional literary evidence for the close contact of Phrygians and Greeks. As Keith DeVries has noted, Herodotus (1.14) “claimed that a splendid wooden throne still on display at Delphi was a gift of Midas, the powerful Phrygian king of the late eighth and early seventh centuries BCE, and stories traceable back to the fourth century had Midas taking a wife from the East

_____ 102 Herodotus 7.73, translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt. 103 See, especially, Friedrich 1941, 868–882; Brixhe/Lejeune 1984; Brixhe 2004a, 2004b. 104 Her arguments (personal communication) revolve around the following points, which I here only cursorily summarize: first of all, the possibility that the toponymn, Dindymene (found on a ceramic inscription from the island) may refer to an Anatolian (Phrygian) mountain (cf. Brixhe 2006). Second, the Kabeiroi, who number among the gods of the rites of Samothrace are Phrygians (according to the scholia to Aristophanes Pax 177–178; the scholia to Apollonius of Rhodes 1.197; Nonnos 3.7, 3.194. 43.307–313; the scholia to Libanius Oratio 14.64), and a number of Byzantine lexicographers derive the name of the Kabeiroi from Mt. Kabeiros in Phrygia (cf. Beekes 2004); for the Kabeiroi in Samothrace, see now Karadima/ Dimitrova 2003). For the Phoenicians on Samothrace, see Blakely 2012, especially 163–164. 105 Tiverios 2004; Fletcher 2008; Vainstub 2014. 106 Woodard 2004, 12. 107 See Brixhe 2004b.

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Greek city of Cyme [for which see Aristotle, fragments 611, 37; Pollux 9.83]. Phrygian fibulae and bronze bowls of eighth and seventh century date have been recovered at sanctuaries in east and mainland Greece, and conversely at Gordion, the Phrygian capital explored by Young, there have been found sherds of six Greek vases dating to the decades just before and after 700 BCE.”108 Even Plato (Kratylos 410–414) has Socrates cite several words that are common in both Greek and Phrygian, not least the words for fire, water, and dog.109 There is thus a confluence of evidence—the growing number of alphabetic inscriptions, the similarity of Phrygian and Greek vowels, the testimony of Herodotus—that places the adoption and adaptation of the alphabet squarely in the Aegean. Any number of places in the Aegean thus emerge as contenders: not only Euboea, but also the north Aegean, not just Methone, together with Ionia and Aeolis, (arguably less so Crete and the Dodecanese),110 where Greeks and Phrygians were in close contact. Greek mythology, albeit a late tradition, furnishes another north Aegean locale where Greeks and Phrygian letters (Φρύ για γρά μματα) comingled: Troy. The personae dramatis are none other than Odysseus and Palamedes. Although the latter figured prominently in the Cypria, there is little in that epic about him and letters.111 The critical evidence is in Apollodoros’ Bibliotheca (Vatican Epitome 3.8), where “Odysseus ‘planted’ in the Greek camp a letter (δέ λτος) written in Phrygian, as though to Palamedes from Priam.” The letter fell into the hands of Agamemnon, and the fate of Palamedes was sealed.112 It is telling that “Phrygian” in ancient sources often means “Trojan”; that is, the Greeks of the Classical era regarded the Trojan language as Phrygian. As one of the most prominent harbors in the north Aegean in the later Bronze and Early Iron Age, controlling as it did the Thermaic Gulf, Methone,

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108 DeVries 1980, 33; see also Brixhe 1995, 104. 109 For Phrygians and Greeks, see further Janko, this volume, a version of which also appeared in Janko 2015. 110 For Kos and Rhodes see Bourogiannis 2013. 111 For Palamedes in the Cypria, see Cypria 5, 12, and cf. fragment 27; in the Returns (Νό στοι) 11, as noted by Apollodoros, Nauplius married Philura (as opposed to Klemene) and he fathered Palamedes, Oiax, and Nausimedon; see also Jeffery 1967, 152. 112 Jeffery 1967, 152; as Jeffery goes on to state: “but this might be only a late elaboration of the story, just as the ‘litterae Palamedis’ shown in Apollo’s temple at Sikyon probably came there through the Hellenistic interest in ‘Trojan War memoirs’.” The relevant passage, as given by Apollodoros, reads: “Having taken a Phrygian prisoner, Odysseus compelled him to write a letter of treasonable purport ostensibly sent by Priam to Palamedes; having buried gold in the quarters of Palamedes, he dropped the letter in the camp. Agamemon read the letter, found the gold, and delivered up Palamedes to the allies to be stoned as a traitor;” translated by Sir James Frazer.

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traditionally an Eretrian colony,113 with its relatively numerous Phoenician imports, and with late 8th/early 7th century (and earlier) material from all over the Aegean and beyond, and no fewer than 25 early alphabetic inscriptions from a secure context, emerges as one of those places—a veritable middle ground, to cite the term coined by Richard White114—where Greeks, from various places, Phoenicians, and Phrygians may very well have done business together, not only an emporion par excellence intimately networked in the international world that was the Mediterranean in the Early Iron Age, but a locale where Semitic, Greek, and Phrygian letters may have coalesced.

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_____ 113 The tradition of the Eretrian foundation of Methone in the north Aegean, following their expulsion from Kerkyra by Charikrates, is recorded in Plutarch, Moralia 293B; in Pseudo-Skylax (Periplous 66), Methone, together with Pydna, is listed as a Greek city (πό λις Ἑλληνί ς)—located north of Pydna and south of the Haliakmon—whereas other cities in the region, including Herakleion, Dion, and Pella, are listed as Macedonian cities. 114 White 1991.

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Samuel Verdan

Counting on Pots? Reflections on Numerical Notations in Early Iron Age Greece* Samuel Verdan Counting on Pots? Reflections on Numerical Notations in Early Iron Age Greece

Abstract: Numerical notations are virtually unknown for the Early Iron Age Greek world. However, it can be argued that different systems to write down numbers were already in use at that time. Many marks incised on vases might be related to such a practice. After a few methodological remarks on this issue, the paper focuses on the Euboean sphere (Eretria, Methone, Pithekoussai), where the existence of a coherent numeral system is hypothesised. Then the idea of a link between Euboean and Etruscan numerical notations, already put forward almost fifty years ago, is considered anew.

Introduction Addressing the problem of numerical notations in Early Iron Age Greece may seem awkward at first, since the evidence is very scant for this early period.1 However, the publication of the corpus of inscriptions on pottery from the “Ypogeio” in Methone comes as an invitation for further investigation, not only because it brings new aspects to light, but also because it establishes a perfect framework to do so.2 First, and very concretely, the authors of the Methone Pierias I publication chose to include even the tiniest incised mark in their catalogue. This choice, which deserves special recognition, offers a good insight into the richness of non-alphabetical graffiti, alongside alphabetical inscriptions, which are usually at the centre of attention. These simple marks are not easy to interpret. Numerical notation is only one among many explanations, but at least it should to be taken into consideration.

_____ * My warmest thanks go to the organisers of the Methone Conference for welcoming the “Eretrians” in Northern Greece. I am most grateful to Thierry Theurillat for his precious comments, to Alexandra Kasseri and Xenia Charalambidou for information on the amphorae found in Methone, and to Tobias Krapf for the drawing of the amphora from Eretria. Many thanks also to Emmanuelle Besson Verdan for improving the English text. This research has been made possible thanks to the support of the Swiss National Science Foundation. 1 See for instance Papadopoulos’ (1994, 479–80) critical statement. 2 Methone Pierias I, 337–508.

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As for the broader context, the diversity of the discoveries in Methone, especially regarding the provenance of fine-ware pottery and transport amphorae, opens a new window to the complex commercial networks of the 8th–7th century Aegean. It also raises the question of the identity of the people standing behind the movement of pottery, as discussed in the Methone Pierias I publication and during the subsequent conference. Alphabetic script is supposed to play a prominent role in the discussion. Given the current state of knowledge, numerical notations remain beyond the usual scope. However, keeping them in mind when studying commercial practices and identity markers is necessary, even with a very theoretical approach. It is not the place here to propose an in-depth study of putative numerical notation systems in Geometric and Early Archaic Greece, a task that would require the processing of a very broad range of data. The aim of this paper is to put forward some theoretical considerations and to examine a concrete case, in order to show the potential interest of the subject and stimulate further research. I will argue that we may “count on pots” for a better knowledge of early numerals, and that written numbers, like the alphabet, give us an opportunity to investigate the interaction between people in the Early Iron Age Aegean and Mediterranean.

Early Greek numerical notations: general considerations In his wide, encompassing studies of trademarks on Greek pottery, Alan Johnston has clearly shown the extreme scarcity of evidence for numerical notations during the Geometric and Early Archaic periods.3 Three different explanations can be given for this phenomenon. First, the Greeks may have had little use for this kind of practice at that period. Second, numbers may have been mainly written on perishable materials, and did not make it down to us. Third, we are not able to identify them among the preserved material evidence. All three reasons are valid to a certain extent. Most probably, the communities of Early Iron Age Greece did not use complex numerical notations on a daily basis, as had been the case in the palatial

_____ 3 See especially Johnston 1979, 27–31; 2004, 742–5 (743: “… but overall the paucity of Greek numerals before the later seventh century seems still to pertain”); 2006, 17–8. See also Johnston 1983, 67 and 2003, 275.

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centres of the Late Bronze Age.4 However, even in small societies with “simple” economies, writing numbers is usually a required skill for many purposes: recording heads of livestock, amounts of crops, labouring days, etc. The systems used may have remained very basic (see below for some examples of accretion of strokes, or what is called “tallying”), but are likely to have developed into more complex ones.5 Indeed, the need for an elaborate system can be postulated for the context of Late Geometric–Early Archaic Greece, at the time when the material found in the “Ypogeio” reached Methone (or was produced there). With the growth of maritime trade and commercial activities in general, merchants certainly needed to keep proper accounts of their business, to have a control over the cargoes of their ships, and even to have a correspondence on commercial matters. In this area, the example of eastern partners is likely to have been an incentive for the Greeks. Their adoption of the alphabet is the best illustration of the phenomenon. Whatever the initial motivation for this borrowing,6 there is no doubt that this new technique was quickly used for commercial purposes. Apparently, there is no evidence for the simultaneous borrowing of a numerical notation system.7 It could mean that the Greeks already had their own systems that satisfied them (which is incidentally a good hint of the existence of early Greek numerals). In any case, the growing use of the alphabet probably fostered an internal development of numerical notations, eventually resulting in the appearance of the acrophonic and the alphabetic systems, both composed of letters, during the Archaic period.8 But let us go back to earlier times, with the postulated existence of numerical notations. Speaking of commercial practices and bookkeeping, one could consider the possibility that numbers were recorded on perishable media only (wooden sticks for simple tallies, papyrus, wax and clay tablets for larger ac-

_____ 4 On numerals in Linear A and B scripts, see Dow 1954, 123–5; Anderson 1958; Chrisomalis 2010, 61–3. The system disappeared with the script, after the collapse of the palaces. On numeracy in Early Iron Age Greece, see Hawke 2008, 7–15 (with rather pessimistic views concerning the existence of elaborate numerical notations at that time). 5 Chrisomalis 2009, 502–4. For tallying as an antecedent to other systems, Chrisomalis 2010, 373, 407 and 419. 6 Johnston 1983, 67–8; Powell 1991 (and the debates around Powell’s theory in CAJ 2.1, 1992, 115–26); Röllig 1998, 368–71. 7 On numerals used by Phoenicians, see Chrisomalis 2010, 74–6. Millard 1995, 192 also notes that the Greeks did not borrow the Phoenician system. However, he suggests a Phoenician influence on the acrophonic system, which is most improbable (Chrisomalis 2010, 76). 8 On both systems, see Tod 1979 (collection of articles published between 1912 and 1954); Chrisomalis 2010, 98–105 (acrophonic), and 134–147 (alphabetic).

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counts),9 and not on the traded objects themselves (we primarily think of vases here), and have thus not been preserved. The explanation is only partially valid. What is true for accounting records is not necessary true for isolated numbers. In fact, they appear frequently enough among trademarks (or “economic graffiti”) on later pottery.10 The comparison has its limitations: price marks, for instance, are obviously not to be expected for the period that interests us here. But there are other reasons to inscribe numbers on pots. Capacity indications may have appeared early, in the context of a growing standardisation of transport amphorae.11 If not for precise volumetric notations, numbers would indicate the content of jars evaluated in smaller units when filling, emptying or refilling the vases.12 Finally, numerical notations could also be related not to the value, the capacity, or the contents of the pots, but to various stages of their handling (when counting lots during loading and unloading ships, in storerooms, etc.), even if this is probably not the most likely situation. One should add that the eventualities listed above concern mainly the case of transport amphorae, but inscribed numbers could also appear on other kind of vessels, in other contexts, for instance on lots of votive vases or banquet equipment in a sanctuary (see the Eretrian example mentioned below). In fact, we do have a good body of evidence for numbers inscribed on vases, if we include tallies: basic counts, following the “one-to-one correspondence” principle, where things or actions are recorded thanks to an equal number of strokes.13 For instance, some 40 occurrences of tallies appear on vases found in the “Ypogeio” in Methone (see below), but other examples are known from many places,14 and their number would certainly multiply if marks on pottery were generally published as exhaustively as in Methone. Sometimes, the strokes are grouped in small clusters (of two to four units maximum), probably to allow the immediate perception of a number, without counting (by subitization).15 It should be noted that basic tallying is not structured enough to be considered as

_____ 9 Jeffery/Johnston 1990, 50–2 and 56–8. 10 Lang 1956; Johnston (see note 3); Lawall 2000. 11 Durando 1989; Docter 1988–90. In Pithekoussai, a mark on an 8th century amphora is interpreted as a capacity indication, in Aramaic numerals (Garbini 1978). 12 Lawall 2000, 73–83. Numbers can also been linked with a secondary use of amphorae. 13 See note 5. 14 Examples in Johnston 1979, 30; 2004, 742–5 and 752–4 (Table G). 15 On subitization, see Netz 2002, 324; Chrisomalis 2010, 376–7. In this case, however, clusters of strokes could also be explained by distinct counting actions, related to distinct episodes in the use of the vase.

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a numerical notation system strictly speaking.16 But at least the presence of tallies shows that counts are sometimes noted directly on the vases. In that case, why is it so difficult to find traces of more elaborated numerals on the same medium? Two obstacles can explain this fact. First, within the kind of activities that generated numerical graffiti, as listed above, only small and simple numbers are likely to appear: most often a few units, maybe tens, hardly hundreds or thousands. This requires the use of a very limited range of signs, and the probability of finding numbers made of different signs clustered together is low. This is the crux of the matter, which leads us to the second obstacle. If signs used for numerical notations existed in Early Iron Age Greece, they were certainly not specially designed for this function. On the contrary, they were rather picked out of the repetitive repertoire of very simple signs, widely used in many places, at various periods, for different purposes and with different meanings, like crosses, angles, simple geometric shapes (circle, triangle), etc.17 Under these circumstances, identifying a sign as a numeral is almost impossible, unless it is used in association with other signs: for that one must find compound numerals.18 Concerning the problem of identification, it is also worth insisting on the potentially high diversity of numerical notations, at least from a visual point of view (their internal structure is another question, as we shall see later). Each community or group of commercial partners might have used a system of its own. Even at a later period, when acrophonic and alphabetical numerals were the rule, there were a lot of regional variations.19 For early numerical notations, this makes the recognition of recurrent patterns even more difficult. As things stand, there seems to be little chance of identifying complex numerical notation systems on Early Iron Age Greek pottery with certainty, and hence for the period in general. However, some lines of inquiry are worth exploring. The growing body of evidence, with the publication of an exhaustive corpus like the one from Methone, will certainly allow for improved analysis. In particular, it is clear from what precedes that it will be more helpful to study corpora that are homogeneous, geographically and chronologically, as well as in regards to the vases bearing the marks. A very large set of data is needed for a

_____ 16 Chrisomalis 2009, 503; 2010, 3 (contra, Reed Widom/Schlimm 2012, 178 and 184–5). 17 Examples in Papadopoulos 1994 (Early Iron Age Greece); de Grummond et al. 2000 (Etruria: see especially 37–8 on sign X); Hirschfeld 2002 (Late Bronze Age Cyprus); Glatz 2012 (Late Bronze Age Anatolia); Ben-Shlomo 2014 (Early Iron Age Levant). 18 The same problem exists for the identification of Greek acrophonic or alphabetic numerals, although they are far better known: normally, isolated letters cannot be ascribed to a system. 19 Examples in Tod 1979.

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selection to be feasible, without reducing the studied sample to a few elements only. It is also worth keeping in mind that the history of numerical notations is a matter of long-term evolution: systems known for historical times might have early roots. The exact dates when the acrophonic and alphabetic systems respectively made their first appearance remain unknown, and could potentially move backwards with new discoveries, as has already been the case in the past.20 This is not to suggest that they could be contemporaneous with the adoption of the alphabet, but finding early evidence of their existence would help to fill the long gap where numerical notations seem to be absent in Greece. More promising perhaps is another option: to look for the origins of alternative systems, which existed alongside the acrophonic and the alphabetic one, and possibly before them, but remained of secondary importance and were finally abandoned. One particular example has been brought to light by Johnston: its most recognisable features are the use of a “unit stroke with an added tick” to represent the number 5, and an upright arrow for 10 (Table 1).21 For the time being, it can be traced back to the first half of the 5th century, but an earlier date for its appearance is likely. Another and more complex case will be presented in more detail here, which will be conveniently called the “X=10 case”. It has already been discussed or briefly mentioned in previous studies, but keeps challenging our understanding. Without aiming to solve the various problems it raises, I will review the arguments, and use this example to show the interest of a broad approach to numerical notations.

X = 10 The existence of the “X=10” system in Greece was first recognized on classical inscriptions from Olynthus. The case is discussed at length in an article by J.W. Graham.22 After reassessing the values of the three signs used to note numbers (Table 1), the author establishes the connection between the Olynthian and the Etruscan (and Roman) system.23 Considering the fact that the link between

_____ 20 Johnston 1973, 186; 1974, 146–7; 1979, 27–8; 2005, 369 and 389–90 (cat. 220: 7th century Samian amphora with alphabetic numeral?) 21 Johnston 1975, 365–6; 1979, 29–30; 1982, 208–9; 2006, 17. Also mentioned in Chrisomalis 2010, 100. 22 Graham 1969. 23 M.N. Tod (1936–7, 248–9) had already interpreted the X on the Olynthian inscriptions as a 10, but without mentioning the Etruscan parallel.

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Chalcidice and Italy can only have existed thanks to Euboean colonisation, he proposes that the system was invented in Euboea itself, possibly in Chalcis, and from there passed to the Northern Aegean and Italy.24 After Graham, the existence of the X=10 system was recognised by A. Johnston, who found a fair number of instances on pottery. The data he collected indicate that the sign X with a value of 10 was used in more than one system, in combination with various other signs.25 Thus it is apparently not restricted to areas in contact with Euboeans. In fact, evidence from the Euboean sphere seems to be especially scarce at first sight; I propose, however, that Johnston’s list can be extended with early examples. Before this last point can be explored, another discussion concerning Graham’s theory must be mentioned, moving from epigraphy towards history. In a review of the arguments in favour of the Euboean origin of the Chalcidians in Thrace, D. Knoepfler puts forward the numerical system X=10. Following Graham, he argues that the presence of the system in Chalcidice and in Italy can only be explained by Euboean colonisation taking place in the Geometric (or perhaps even the Protogeometric) period.26 This position is criticised by J.K. Papadopoulos, who pinpoints an apparent contradiction in the reasoning: how could Euboeans have borrowed a system from the Etruscans and then brought it to the Northern Aegean if they are believed to have settled in the North earlier than in the West?27 This criticism is actually based on a misreading of Knoepfler’s argument, which most probably follows Graham’s initial suggestion: the

_____ 24 Graham 1969, especially 351 and 358. This is the most appealing aspect of Graham’s theory. Other hypotheses are far more problematic and will not be taken into account here. The suggestion that the original system could be alphabetic in nature because it uses the four last letters of the alphabet rests on weak arguments (ibid. 352–3). In particular, one wonders why the sequence reconstructed by Graham has a sign for 5 (Y > V), but none for 50, between 10 and 100. The hypothesis of the sign 8 (=100) being introduced in the system in Lydia, and then adopted in Chalcidice via Aeolic Cyme also lacks sound foundation (ibid. 353–8). The explanation given by Johnston (1979, 31 and 62, note 18), for the sign 8 being the duplicate of a sign O (= 10, as attested in other systems), is more convincing, even if one would have expected O=10 in that case, and not X=10. 25 Johnston 1975, 363, note 9; 1979, 31; 2004, 743 and 745; 2006, 17–8. Note that the author does not criticise Graham’s hypothesis of a transmission of the system to the Etruscans. 26 Knoepfler 1990, 115. The same argument is mentioned by M. Tiverios (2008, 6). 27 Papadopoulos 1996, 169–70. It shall be noted here that both Knoepfler’s statement and Papadopoulos’ criticism seem to be based on the assumption that a numerical notation can only have been transmitted at the moment of a population transfer. This position does not take into account the contacts maintained between settlers and their place of origin, and the potential fluidity of numerical notations.

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system was first invented in Euboea, before spreading North and West.28 Besides, Papadopoulos’ alternative solution, i.e. the numerical system being brought to Chalcidice by Tyrsenoi (Etruscan related people) via Lemnos at the end of the 6th century, is not based on sounder arguments,29 and is at odds with the evidence for X=10 in archaic inscriptions outside Chalcidice (see above). Of course, as Papadopoulos puts it, “the evidence regarding the numbering system […] does not point to a straightforward answer”.30 I do not claim to have a definite answer here. But keeping Graham’s hypothesis in mind, I would like to add two elements that may help the discussion move forward. The first one is epigraphic; the second one has to do with the structure of the numerical notations and their history.

Methone, Pithekoussai, Eretria Even if the evidence is not abundant, it is possible to argue in favour of an early date for a system with X=10 and Λ=5, in the Euboean sphere.31 Arguments are first provided by the inscribed pottery found in Methone. As already mentioned, amphorae from the “Ypogeio” bear many examples of tallies. A synthetic view shows that these graffiti correspond to a recurrent practice and brings to light interesting patterns (see Table 2 and Fig. 1).32 First, tallies are frequent on handles, but they also appear on the top of rims. On handles, groups of three strokes are the most common,33 but lower numbers are also present. Some handles bear four to six strokes. In that case, strokes are normally arranged in clusters of two or three. On the rims, no similar pattern is observable; the maximum number of strokes seems to be four. In sum, the numerical function of the strokes is very probable. In the same positions as tallies, other signs appear like-

_____ 28 Knoepfler, however, does not make this explicit enough in his article. 29 Even if the reality of the contacts between Chalcidice and Lemnos is not in dispute here (for references, see Papadopoulos 1996, 170). 30 Ibid. 31 Signs for higher powers are not taken into consideration here, since evidence for them is too elusive. 32 Table 2 is based on the catalogue of Methone Pierias I. From this rich corpus, a strict selection has been established on the following criteria: amphorae only; inscriptions after firing; conspicuous location on the vase (handle, rim, neck; body sherds excluded); simple signs, likely to be numerical notations. Ambiguous, potentially incomplete, and barely visible graffiti have been excluded. 33 As already underlined in Methone Pierias I, 235.

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ly to be numerical as well: Λ or V,34 and X. The link between strokes and the Λ/V signs can best be seen on the rims.35 Considering that low figures only appear among the tallies, and the highest number of strokes attested on rims is four, it is logical to hypothesise a value of 5 for the signs Λ/V. Moreover, they seem to be associated with a stroke in some occasions, which could represent the number 6.36 As for X, the sign can be found on two handles, once in combination with three strokes (10 and 3, or 13?). This is not much evidence for X=10, but one should keep in mind that low numbers only are inscribed on these amphorae; it is therefore not surprising if the highest one is also the less frequent.37 A few good parallels for the Methonean case can be found in Pithekoussai and Cyme (Fig. 2), where amphorae, mainly of local production, have strokes, crosses, or others signs inscribed on their handles.38 The best example appears on the handle of a locally made amphora dated to the end of the 7th century/beginning of the 6th, where a cross (“+” rather than “X”) is combined with two strokes; a sign V underlined by a stroke is inscribed at the base of the same handle.39 On another local amphora, one handle bears a group of five strokes on

_____ 34 On the handles, the orientation of the sign is obvious; on the rims, it cannot be determined with certainty. In Table 2, the signs are “read” from an exterior-to-interior point of view, but this is not necessarily indicative of their real orientation. 35 On handles, two of the three Λ/V are large and open signs that could be of another nature than tallies. The third example (on amphora no. 160, see Methone Pierias I, 488) could also be a letter (Y). 36 Similar combined markings appear on a neck and a shoulder, where they are interpreted as letters (amphorae nos 18 and 19: Methone Pierias I, 364–6). Very tentatively, one could suggest that the Λ/V and IΛ/VI inscriptions on the rims indicate sums corresponding to the numbers of strokes on the handles of the same vases, according to the “summation principle” (see Lawall 2000, 19–20): amphora no. 75 (Methone Pierias I, 413–4) bears three strokes on each handle and possibly IΛ=6 (though not easy to see and read) on the rim; amphorae nos. 78 and 81 (ibid. 418–9 and 422–3) have both Λ on the rim and possibly five strokes on one handle, though for each case the exact number of strokes is uncertain, and there is some inconsistency between the photographs, drawings, and descriptions (see Fig. 1). 37 The cross (+) could be interpreted here as an equivalent of X. However, it appears three times in a central position on necks, which is usually the place for non-numerical inscriptions: see for instance Methone Pierias I, 345–6, cat. 4; 358–9, cat. 15; 371, cat. 23. 38 For inscribed amphorae in general, see Buchner/Ridgway 1993, pl. 194–219 and 224–30. See also Di Sandro 1986, 111 and pl. 24 (local amphora cat. SG 248, with five strokes on the handle). 39 Buchner/Ridgway 1993, 345, pl. 218 and 229, 285.1; Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 166–7 (inscription interpreted as numerical). It should be noted that the name of the owner (?) of the amphora, inscribed under the handle attachment on the other side of the vase, is not Greek, but Messapian: Dazimo (ibid.; see also Colonna 2005d, 1908–10).

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its upper part, and a cross, associated with a stroke on its lower attachment.40 The example from Cyme, once again on the handle of a locally-produced amphora, shows three strokes, and an asterisk sign, or more probably a fourth stroke with an “over-incised” X.41 Parallels from Euboea itself are less significant with regard to signs potentially belonging to a numerical system. They are nonetheless interesting because of the close relationship they have with the discoveries in Methone. Two North Aegean amphorae found in Lefkandi bear a series of strokes on their handles and additional inscribed marks. The oldest one comes from Pyre 11/12 in the Toumba cemetery, dated to the middle of the 10th century.42 It shows that there is a long lasting tradition of marking counts on amphorae produced in the Northern Aegean.43 A later one (probably 8th century) has been recently found on Xeropolis.44 The series continues with an example found in Eretria, in a Late Geometric pit in the sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros: apart from a rectangular pattern incised on the neck and a star on the shoulder, it bears six strokes on one handle (Fig. 3).45 Additionally, a series of marks found in the same sanctuary in Eretria is worth mentioning here. They are inscribed in the same positions (on the lip or higher part of the body) on small monochrome cups of the late 8th century. Apart from a group of four strokes, four Λ, five X and one ↑ are listed (examples on Fig. 4).46 Signs are not combined together to form numerical sequen-

_____ 40 Buchner/Ridgway 1993, 334 and pl. 230, 275.1 (Late Protocorinthian-Corinthian). 41 Since the four strokes seem to have the same length, whereas the X is shorter: Del Verme/Sacco 2002–3, 254, fig. 5. 42 Catling 1996. 43 An inscribed mark (perhaps numerical) also appears on an older amphora from the same group, found in Troia (Catling 1998, 164–6; see also Lenz et al. 1998, 215, pl. 4). For later examples bearing marks (incised before or after firing), see references in Gimatzidis 2010, 264–6; Methone Pierias I, 161. 44 Lemos 2012. 45 Inv. V163, 73170–19. Found in 1973, the piece went missing, and has recently been rediscovered in the storerooms of the Eretria museum. For this reason, it is not published with the rest of the Geometric pottery from the sanctuary. The shoulder fragment with the incised star, however, was stored separately, and has already been published in Kenzelmann Pfyffer et al. 2005 (73, cat. 58). This amphora comes from pit Fo254, dated to the Late Geometric II (Verdan et al. 2008, 48–50; Verdan 2013, vol. I, 84–5). 46 Kenzelmann Pfyffer et al. 2005, 64, cat. 15; 66, cat. 21–4; 67, cat. 28 and 30. See also Verdan 2013, vol. II, pl. 101, cat. 381–4. Synthetic table: ibid. 31, nos 22–26, 31–35, and 39. Similar marks appear in other positions (mainly on handles), and on other shapes in the sanctuary (see Kenzelmann Pfyffer et al. 2005, passim), but they do not form a group as coherent as this one. For this reason, they are not listed here.

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ces.47 However, the presence of the strokes, and the frequency of Λ and X contrasting with the absence of isolated letters in the same position on the same kind of cups48 are arguments in favour of a numerical system using Λ for 5 and X for 10.49 Despite the various provenances of the amphorae under consideration (see Table 2), the Methonean inscriptions give a homogeneous picture, suggesting shared customs along trading routes, or commercial practices taking place at the site of Methone itself, when the contents of the amphorae were transferred or retailed.50 For the time being, together with the evidence from Pithekoussai and Eretria, these are the best arguments that can be gathered in favour of a numerical notation used by Euboean people from the 8th century onward. Stronger evidence needs to be found, but this is enough evidence for further discussion and research.

Greek and Etruscan numerals: internal structure So far, the focus has been on epigraphical arguments, namely the shapes of the signs composing the putative numerical notations. Another aspect, however, is at least as important, and is too often overlooked: the internal structure of the systems. Recently, this subject has been comprehensively studied by S. Chrisomalis, who makes some very useful observations and hypotheses concerning the question under scrutiny here.51 Chrisomalis stresses the fact that the Etruscan and the Greek acrophonic systems are structurally identical.52 Both are “cumulative-additive” with a base of 10, which is in fact not very original, because many of the Mesopotamian and Mediterranean systems share the same

_____

47 Apart from a possible ΛI on the cup inv. 7134–3: Verdan 2013, vol. II, 31, no 37 (= Kenzelmann Pfyffer et al. 2005, 64, cat. 13, where the vertical stroke is wrongly illustrated, and interpreted as a rho or qoppa, because of an accidental scratch). 48 Only one monochrome skyphos probably bears an isolated Y (Kenzelmann Pfyffer et al. 2005, 64, cat. 14). 49 In this case, the marks have nothing to do with trade, but with the use of the vases in the context of the sanctuary, be they votive offerings or cultic vessels (Verdan 2013, vol. I, 104–5). 50 See Methone Pierias I, 235. A good argument in favour of a system locally used is the presence of strokes on the handles of jugs (ibid. 397–8, cat. 51–2; 490–1, cat. 163). For a thorough analysis of such practices in the Athenian Agora during the 4th century, see Lawall 2000, especially 73–83. 51 Chrisomalis 2010. 52 For Chrisomalis’ typology, see ibid. 9–14. Modifications and refinements in Reed Widom/Schlimm 2012 (with no repercussion however on the relation between the Etruscan and Greek numerical systems).

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characteristics. More importantly, both have a sub-base of 5, which distinguishes them from previous and contemporaneous systems.53 This is an ingenious innovation, making the system more economical and efficient.54 The fact that this improvement appears in two systems belonging more or less to the same period, and also in two cultures well interconnected, can hardly be a coincidence. The history of the Etruscan numerals must be linked in some way with the history of the Greek acrophonic system.55 Chrisomalis states that “it is impossible to assign chronological priority to one or the other”.56 He also acknowledges the fact that the situation is not straightforward, because of the existence of early non-acrophonic variations in the family of the acrophonic numerals.57 He nevertheless proposes that the acrophonic system developed on the model of the Etruscan one, or alternatively that both systems derived from a common ancestor. According to him, the development occurred in the early 6th century.58

Etruscans and Euboeans? While relying on Chrisomalis’ argument for a relationship between Greek and Etruscan numerical notations, I suggest that the story started earlier than he assumes, and was slightly different. Returning to Graham, I hypothesise that the Etruscan numerals were originally related not to the acrophonic ones, but to an older system used by some Greeks (Euboeans inter alia) in the late 8th–early 7th century BCE. From a Greek point of view, the theory is plausible. As previously mentioned, there are arguments for the existence of a system similar to the Etruscan one in the Euboean sphere, including in the West (Pithekoussai and Cyme), for the Late Geometric and Early Archaic period. It is not necessary to insist here on

_____ 53 Chrisomalis 2010, 93–8 (Etruscan system) and 98–105 (acrophonic). “Cumulative” means that any power of the base is represented by a repetition of signs which are then added to obtain the value of the power (for instance XXX=30 in the Etruscan system). “Additive” means that the values of each power are added to obtain the total value of the number (for instance HΔΔII=100+20+2=122 in the acrophonic system). For these definitions, see ibid. 11–3. See also Chrisomalis 2004, 51–2 for a synthetic table of numerical notations. 54 In the Etruscan(-Roman) system, for instance, it is shorter to write (and to read) V rather than IIIII. About the previous absence of the sub-base 5, see for instance the comment in Dow 1954, 123: “Most striking is their [the Minoans’] failure to invent a separate symbol for five”. 55 History and connections of the two systems: Chrisomalis 2010, 95–6, 100–3 and 132. 56 Ibid. 96. 57 Like the systems where X=10 or where 10 is represented by an arrow (see above). 58 Accordingly, he dismisses Graham’s hypothesis (ibid. 101).

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the presence of Euboean traders and settlers in Southern Italy for the period under consideration.59 The contacts they had with Etruscans, in particular (but not exclusively!) for commercial transactions, offered an ideal framework for sharing practices such as numerical notations.60 It is at that time and in this context that the Euboean alphabet was adopted by the Etruscans.61 From an Etruscan point of view, the use of numerals seems to be attested at an early date as well, as suggested by a rich corpus of marks, inscribed on vases and above all on bronze objects from metal deposits, which have been scrupulously gathered and studied by G. Sassatelli.62 The next step is to consider the diffusion of the system. Relying on the direction of the transmission of the alphabet, a move from Euboea towards Etruria is a logical hypothesis. It does not imply that the Euboeans had a monopoly on the use of such a numerical system in Early Iron Age Greece, or that they had invented it themselves, only that they are the most likely middlemen. A transmission in the other direction (Etruria > Euboea) cannot be ruled out either.63 Given the scarcity of material evidence, definitive arguments are still missing. For the precedence of a Greek system, one can put forward the case of the alphabet, and the fact that marks likely to be numerical do not seem to appear in Etruria before the second half of the 8th century, when contacts with Greek people intensify.64 Additionally, one may wonder if Greeks were not particularly inclined to use a system with a sub-base of five, considering the fact that their language retains the trace of the practice of counting by five, on the fingers of one hand, with the verb πεμπά ζω.65 The possibility of a transmission from Greece to Etruria has not been considered in the dominant theories on the origins of the Etruscan-Latin numeral system so far. These origins have been extensively discussed with two main in-

_____ 59 See articles in Gli Eubei in Occidente 1979, d’Agostino/Ridgway 1994, and Bats/d’Agostino 1998. See also Ridgway 1992; Ridgway 2004; d’Agostino 2006; d’Agostino 2010. 60 On the context in general, see for instance Malkin 2002. 61 Colonna 2005b; Cristofani 1978, 404–6; Johnston 2003, 264; Lazzarini 2010. 62 Sassatelli 1981–2; 1985. The oldest metal deposit with marks potentially numerical in nature is dated to the middle of the 8th century (deposit of Ardea: Peroni 1967; Colonna 2005e, 479–80 and fig. 1). The one with the largest number of marks is the deposit of San Francesco in Bologna, buried in the first quarter of the 7th century. For the interpretation of the marks as numbers, see Sassatelli 1981–2, 252–3; 1985, 120–3; see also Colonna 2005c, 1703–4. 63 It is clear that contacts between Greeks and Etruscans were bidirectional: see Naso 2014, with further references. 64 But of course, they do not appear in Greece earlier either! 65 See Hawke 2008, 43: “… possibly a base-five system operative beneath or in conjunction with the base-ten…”

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terpretive paths. According to the first one, signs used to note numbers were taken from the alphabet, either because they were “dead” letters, received in the full alphabetic sequence but not needed by the Italic people, or alternatively to meet an acrophonic principle.66 According to the second one, the Etruscan and Latin numerals originate from a simple system of tallies.67 For one side or the other, explanations are based on the principle that the system is autochthonous.68 The hypotheses of letters taken from the alphabet to note numbers have been criticised and are generally not acknowledged anymore. The “tally” solution is more convincing, and is currently favoured by most scholars.69 This solution is not incompatible with a potential foreign origin of Etruscan-Latin numerals. Such a simple system, rooted in a tallying practice, may have developed in Greece first.

Conclusion The adoption of a Greek, and possibly, Euboean numerical notation system by the Etruscans, concurrently with the transmission of the alphabet, is a hypothesis that calls for further investigation. New epigraphic evidence may strengthen the case, or help dismiss it.70 Some questions deserve special attention, in particular the “prehistory” of the system in Greece and the connections between numerical notations and the alphabet, at an early stage. The link between the two is shown clearly enough by the existence of acrophonic and alphabetic numerals in historical times. But even for a system that had nothing to do with letters at the beginning, influences of the alphabet on the shape of the signs might have been possible. However, one may wonder if pre-existent numerals might

_____ 66 Mommsen 1887 (unused letters); Rix 1969 (acrophonic). For a critical view and more references, see Keyser 1988, 536–40; Agostiniani 1995, 55–7. 67 Keyser 1988, 531–4 and 541–4; Agostiniani 1995, 57–60. 68 Graham’s theory has not made its way into the discussion (except in Chrisomalis: see note 58). 69 Keyser 1988; Agostiniani 1995; Van Heems 2009; Chrisomalis 2010. Such an origin of the Etruscan-Latin numerals does not preclude, however, that the shape of the signs could have been influenced by the shape of letters, on more than one occasion (Van Heems 2009, 106). 70 For Etruria, mention should be made of the recent researches on non-alphabetical marks: de Grummond et al. 2000; Bagnasco Gianni et al. 2015, with further references; see also the websites of the International Etruscan Sigla Project (IESP): http://www.etruscologia.unimi.it/ index.php/progetti/80-progetti/91-sigle; http://159.149.130.120/IESP.

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also have had an influence on the shaping of letters when the Greek alphabet was created.71 On a large scale, the history of numerical notation systems is complex, as shown by Chrisomalis and others before him, and the same is certainly true for Early Iron Age Greece: the situation was intricate, and no general pattern or linear evolution is to be expected. The underlying principles, the internal logic of numerical systems might have been very stable. Their graphic appearance, on the contrary, is likely to have varied considerably in time and space. For instance, systems were not necessarily fully formed from the beginning. They may have originally lacked signs for highest numbers, and may have been transmitted as such, before being completed. They may have evolved by borrowing signs from other systems, or by undergoing internal rationalisation.72 I shall conclude by insisting on the potential diversity of the early Greek numerical notations, for which the best parallel is given by the archaic epichoric alphabets.73 For modern researchers trying to identify coherent systems, this is highly impractical. For ancient users, such a problem did not exist. Numerical notations were effective on a small scale, when recognised by people belonging to the same community, or participating in the same trade network. There was no need for uniformity on a large scale. The diversity may even have been deliberately maintained, as a means of distinguishing people and, more concretely, goods.74 In that sense, numerals would have been “identity markers”, not unlike other messages, written on pots or elsewhere. As stated in the introduction, the case of Methone offers a rare opportunity to look for numerals and try to ask the right questions on this matter. A coherent context of discovery, a good number of transport amphorae of various origins, a rich array of marks on pottery scrupulously published are the kind of evidence needed when tracking a phenomenon as elusive as early numerical notation. In Methone, the combination of recurrent marking patterns with the diversity of

_____ 71 In particular on the shapes of the supplemental letters Φ, Χ and Ψ, the origin of which is debated. On the Greek invention of these letters, see Wachter 1989, 34–6. Hypotheses on their shape summarised in Powell 1987, 3, note 8. See also Jeffery/Johnston 1990, 35–7. 72 Borrowings are evidenced by hybrid systems, combining acrophonic and non-acrophonic signs: Johnston 1982, 208–9 (note 14); 2006, 17. The creation of the full acrophonic system may be the result of the rationalisation of an earlier one. 73 Jeffery/Johnston 1990; Johnston 1998. 74 Even if it is not necessary to go as far as Dow (1952, 23): “Numerals are perhaps the sharpest index of Greek separatism”. Local alphabets can be taken as an example. On the deliberate use of local scripts as a marker of identity, see Luraghi 2010; but see also a more cautious position in Johnston 1998 and 2012.

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the material also prompts us to look beyond the origins of pots and beyond the medium to understand the transfer of ideas and practices. Verdan_01

Fig. 1: Selection of amphorae with marks from Methone (after Methone Pierias I). Verdan_02

Fig. 2: Amphorae with marks from Pithekoussai and Cyme (after Buchner/Ridgway 1993, pl. 218, 229–30; Del Verme/Sacco 2002–3, 254, fig. 5).

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Verdan_03

Fig. 3: North Aegean amphora from Eretria (Sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros), inv. V163, 73170–19; diam. rim 18 cm (drawing T. Krapf).

Verdan_04

Fig. 4: Selection of monochrome cups with marks from Eretria (Sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros).

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Table 1: Some numerical notations mentioned in the text (after Chrisomalis 2010, Table 4.1). Verdan_tab01

Table 2: Numerical (?) marks on amphorae from the “Ypogeio” in Methone. Verdan_tab02

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Alan Johnston

Texts and Amphoras in the Methone “Ypogeio” Alan Johnston Texts and Amphoras in the Methone “Ypogeio”

Abstract: The inscribed amphoras from the great pit are numerous and of numerous types. This article reviews their affiliations with other marked jars from across the Mediterranean world of the eighth and seventh centuries, from Crete to Malaga. Topics discussed are the use of dipinti, stamps and ligatures, numerical notations and in particular repetition of marks on jars of different provenance.

In this short paper I do not want to tread on ground where I know that later speakers will speak with authority, and so I will restrict myself largely to the topic of amphoras and text. Yet, there are also two major problems here; the first is that I have recently covered that topic eight years ago (Johnston 2004), and more important, we have the publication by Bessios, Tzifopoulos and Kotsonas (Methone Pierias I) of this fascinating set of material in which they have covered almost all aspects in a truly masterly way. I cannot even spend a few seconds politely correcting any errors.1 So, I will point to a few minutiae which I think of interest and I will make some comparisons, possibly even more comparisons than in the publication, with material from elsewhere. First of all, a few remarks on comparative material from much later periods. When I updated Virginia Grace’s entry for ‘amphorae, Greek’ in the Oxford Classical Dictionary, I noted that I was forced to be less positive about the interpretation of the stamps than she had been. My caution was clearly correct, as demonstrated by the varying views forcefully put forward at the conference at the École Française d’Athènes in 2010;2 though immediately I add that it is at least agreed that the function of stamps must have varied from centre to centre. In such a background of sometimes very precise texts, what hope for our orphans at Methone? Then a striking parallel for what I rudely call nondescript marks can be found in the same period as the hey-day of official stamping, and in an unusual

_____

1 I thank the organisers for their invitation, hospitality, and assistance throughout. References as page number only in the current piece refer to this publication. 2 Analyse et exploitation des timbres amphoriques grecques, École Française d’Athènes, 3rd to 5th February 2010, forthcoming.

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place, in inland Bosnia, at the Illyrian settlement of Ošanića (Mariç 2004, 2005, 2006): a set of graffiti hard to parallel in the rest of the Mediterranean world in the mid-Hellenistic period. These graffiti, together with one stamp, have been well published, albeit with some exotic interpretations by Zdravo Mariç, and here I merely point out what may be perhaps a similar attitude to graffiti in another place where the use of alphabetic writing may well have been in its infancy. [Fig. 1] So back to 700. Just a couple of points on chronology first: I find a high date for the Lesbian jar 4 typologically difficult – even if it is correct!3 Then with respect to the material from Kommos, very relevant indeed to our corpus, I would stress that the bulk can only be given a terminus ante quem of ca. 600 – though one Lesbian handle does seem earlier (Johnston 2005, no.208) – but one, uninscribed, jar I single out (Johnston 2000, 197, no. 12); [Fig. 2] Kotsonas has found a home for it, I am very happy to say, in Macedonia; that is of considerable interest in itself, but one should stress that its context at Kommos is late MG, probably no later than 740, even though it is typologically not identical with the comparable Methone pieces (Methone Pierias I, nos. 77–83). The vast majority of graffito marks at both places are non-alphabetic, with X and arrow marks predominating. Of course either shape can be an alphabetic letter, but they both appear widely in Mediterranean and other ‘sign lists’ (Johnston 2003, 266)4. [Fig. 3] They simply mark out some form of detail, often no doubt ownership, in a very localised manner. X marks any spot, but as society becomes more complex further information to a wider audience is added, whether in alphabetic or symbol form. That is a generalisation of course, but we do not seem to have any text of a broadly commercial nature spelling out any details, even in abbreviated form, until the sixth century BCE. I have some favourite pieces among those cited as parallels by Kotsonas, and I hope I can base these addenda on them. First of all, the set of texts which I believe I was myself responsible for discerning back in the Dark Ages of the 1970s, the daddy of them all, is Pithekoussai T5755 [Fig. 4]. I felt at the time that the fabric was similar to that of the inscribed Lefkandi amphora

_____ 3 While evidence for the existence of this type of jar is extant for such an early period (Fantalkin and Tal 2010), the shape of this piece would seem more advanced. 4 Unfortunately the wrong figure was printed there as fig. 9. I include it here. 5 Buchner and Ridgway 569–570; Bartoněk and Buchner 171–2, no. 31; Durando 1989. The piece was badly warped in the volcanic soil and plaster restoration had originally concealed most of the graffiti.

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sherds,6 but I had seen them even earlier and so it was no direct comparison. It is probably the earliest inscribed amphora from Pithekoussai, but is also a piece full of history. In what order the various texts were written is unclear, but comment can be made on each: – a numerical notation on a handle; a common enough place for such texts later, but here we have the only ‘substantial’ numerical text in the Greek world before the late seventh century, and it may well be Phoenician or Aramaic;7 – a Greek abbreviated name ΙΦ or ΦΙ – neither sign, we may note, a direct borrowing from the Semitic alphabet; no close parallel is known to me; – a curious shape which has been taken as a (sacred) boat – though its structure may be echoed in graffiti from Eretria and Methone (Methone Pierias I, no. 149, citing parallels); – an obviously ‘Phoenician’ text, probably reading ‘double’ – though the lettering does not inequivocably support it;8 – and finally used as a burial urn. My second favourite jar is the Malaga piece noted by Kotsonas as one of his black-painted Ionian jars (212, with n.1454). The type is indeed of interest, and, as he notes, it is common in seventh century contexts in the West; I would agree with his assessment that one piece from Kommos is of the type (n. 1458; Johnston 2005, 364, no. 198) and add that there is another unpublished one from Kerkyra. The striking feature of the Malaga piece is of course the impression from a scarab of a character that appears throughout the Mediterranean, and one of the earliest stamps on Greek jars (Gorton 1996, part 2 for the distribution; Dupont forthcoming). [Fig. 5] It brings to my mind other ‘firsts’ in the Methone collection, perhaps the earliest red dipinti, certainly to my knowledge the earliest pre-firing mark on a Samian amphora (for later material see Johnston 2006, 29), and most notably an exceptionally early ligature; [Fig. 6] the complex on 23 is far less simple than other ligatured letters of the period, rare as they are in preserved material before ca. 600 (Johnston 1980, 2–3). The clay and biscuit of the piece is very similar to another sherd from Kommos (Johnston 1993, 373 no. 148).

_____ 6 Jeffery 1980, 90, nos. 100–101. Certainly the fabric is as that of the Pithekoussai sporadic fragment (Bartoněk and Buchner 165–6, no. 23) where some have argued for an Etruscan text, though I would disagree, preferring the lectio facilior of emi. 7 Durando 1989 81–84. 8 Durando ibid. and the remarks by Garbini on the first letter (1978, 143–145).

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The use of dipinti, whether red or white, complicates statistical matters, since their disappearance leaves us helpless to quantify the frequency of their use. What percentage is preserved? Their significance at any rate does not seem to differ from the run of graffiti. The frequency of graffiti on the dark ground of the SOS jars could suggest that red marks on the pale ground of undecorated jars were tolerably frequent but largely now lost; one must also add that the white-painted dipinti on pots from Pithekoussai and Eretria were not easy to see, and here again much must have been totally lost. However the SOS marks are largely sui generis in their content, as indeed are the Samian pre-firing graffiti; the only digammas in Eastern Ionic script appear here and on architectural members of the Athena temple at Smyrna (Johnston 2004, 741-2 and 2006, 27, fig. 20; Akurgal 1983, pl. 169a). Together with the numerical marks on mainly later Corinthian A jars, the majority of the SOS amphora graffiti and the Samian pre-firing marks form the three clearest examples of localised usage of marking in our total corpus. A striking and exceptional example of a dipinto is on an SOS amphora from the seaside necropolis at Kamares on Thera.9 [Fig. 7] While this cemetery is as yet unpublished and I do not know what percentage of amphoras, ranging from the seventh century BCE to the Hellenistic period, are marked, I noted some 70 marked jars, with no clear repetition in the marks. Contrast that with another preliminary note, that there are seemingly no marks on the hundreds of jars, of much the same time span, from the child cemetery on Astypalaia.10 Some of the Methone numerical marks tend to lead us in the direction of local usage, notably those on the lip, which seem to be largely, though not wholly, confined to the site; however those marks elsewhere on the pot, whatever its shape, are nearly commonplace in our early period. With regard to numerical notation, apart from the Pithekoussan jar noted above, the earliest substantial numerical marks known to me, other than a simple set of unit strokes, is as yet unpublished, from Monte San Mauro in Sicily.11 [Fig. 8] This piece is unusual in having seven strokes on the lip, since, wherever such marks are placed on the pot, the number of strokes is usually between 3 and 5, which must be meaningful; I can think of a number of explanations, but not one that must prevail. Three strokes also appear on an SOS amphora from Mende (Vokotopoulou

_____ 9 Noted in Johnston 2004, 747, no. 29. Ch. Sigalas kindly allowed my scrutiny of this material, and the piece is presented here courtesy of Maja Efstathiou. 10 Information kindly provided by Maria Michalaki-Kollia, 22nd Ephoria of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities. 11 I can show only my note on its sets of unit strokes and other graffiti.

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and Christidis 1995), to which I return very shortly, perhaps relating to a second episode in its career after leaving Athens.12 Turning back to non-numerical marks, repetition of alphabetic marks is rare indeed, unlike among later trademarks on decorated vases. Our two NE marks (14 and 15) are clearly local –the vases belonging to a single owner, who we may note writes either left to right or right to left. Recently found material in Sicily has yielded a little more repetition among amphora graffiti, but a little indeed. The occurrence of the abbreviation Pet, at Tell Defenneh and Cerveteri, on very similar pots, remains an extremely rare event in the sixth century BCE on storage jars (Johnston 2000); we may now add other à la brosse jars, ΕΛΕ, from Histria and Kamarina.13 The most important parallel of ‘our’ earlier period is the Cypriot syllabic text found on an early SOS from Mende just mentioned and on an amphora of probably Ionian provenance from Policoro. This to me was a most unexpected discovery and is not one to encourage the formation of strong theories on the basis of limited evidence. If we add the Malaga jar, we have a small series of seventh century material embracing the whole Mediterranean; not to forget the presence, much later it is true, of Arganthonios at Sindos (Tiverios 2000, 63–64). Regarding the alphabet of the texts, we can first note that the Euboean alphabet is fairly widely distributed by the end of the eighth century, both in whole settlements or occasionally by just an isolated text; the corpus from Pithekoussai is almost solidly Euboean,14 while I have hazarded that one text from Crete, unusually on a ‘kitchenware’ amphora or hydria, from Kommos (Csapo et al. 114, no. 17), may be Euboean, though the likelihood is no more than 50%. It is worth noting also that, although we can talk of a common Ionian affiliation of Euboean and eastern Ionian Greeks, their alphabets are startlingly different. With particular respect to the alphabet of the Methone graffiti, I note that 3 and 19 may have a non-Euboean gamma, though the letter gamma is rarely found

_____ 12 Christidis (1995, 10) suggests that they are of Cypriot origin and so, if read horizontally, indicate ‘ten’. If we consider the whole range of contemporary marking, this is not the more likely interpretation. 13 Bîrzescu 2012, 345 no.1370, pl. 80 (Histria). The Sicilian material was presented at the conference on ‘Amphoras and Text’ but not all was included in the published version in MEFRA 2004. ΕΛΕ (alphabetically ‘fluid’, Hege- or Hele-?) occurs on two à la brosse amphoras from Kamarina (793 fig. 8 and unpublished; perhaps also 784 fig. 1, tomb 1415); the lack of aspirate points to a non-Athenian hand. HE, with closed eta, is found on an à la brosse amphora from Himera (764, no. 7) and an SOS amphora from Kamarina (785, fig. 2, T1044); the form is either Attic or ‘pan-Sicilian’. 14 See Johnston 1998, 421 and Bartoněk and Buchner 1995, 181–3.

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in seventh century texts and this form is not unknown in other early texts of Euboean character.15 The only other possibly non-Euboean letters would seem to be the lambda on 12 (I prefer this reading) and the delta on 164, which may be of the ‘wrong’, triangular shape. But early deltas tend to be equivocal as to whether they are going to become triangular or Roman, as it were: Nestor’s cup and our 2 and 164 show the more triangular shape, the Eretria ‘Nestor cup’, something a little more lunate; the letter on the Lesbian amphora 6 is certainly more developed, a possible but not necessary indication of a later date.16 The noises that come from all these jars are muffled, but worthy of inspection. We are dealing with complex societies and minimal clues. What is clear at any rate is that there was an entrenched literacy at Methone by 700 BCE (cf. Panayotou in this volume on question of degree of literacy) and that notation was regularly used as some form of control factor in the trade of goods stored in amphoras. Some of that seems a phenomenon not well represented at other roughly contemporary sites, though we may be misled by the relatively weak number of good comparisons.

_____ 15 For a similar shape at other Euboean sites, see Jeffery 1990, 79. I treat gammas from Attica and Ionia in Johnston 1998, 422–3 and 2006, 85 respectively. 16 There was much discussion regarding the form of xi on 22 (Methone Pierias I, 369–370). Alphabetically it could be taken as a pleonastic form, with simple X later being used in Euboean script. The multiple stroke sigma is a common variant in earlier texts.

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Johnston_01

Fig. 1: A selection of graffiti from the Illyrian settlement of Ošanića (after Mariç 2005, pl. 2 and 2004, pl. 5).

Johnston_02

Fig. 2: Macedonian amphora from Kommos, Crete (after Johnston 2000, 197, no. 12).

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Johnston_03

Fig. 3: Symbols widely used in the Mediterranean.

Johnston_04

Fig. 4: Amphora from Pithekoussai T575 (after Bartoněk and Buchner 1995, 171–2, no. 31).

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John_05a/5b

Fig. 5a–b: Black-painted amphora and its handle with scarab impression from Cerro del Villar, Guadalhorce, ca. 700–650 BCE, Museum Arqueologico de la Alcazaba, Malaga, 7674 (after Stampolidis 2003, 318).

Johnston_06

Fig. 6: Graffito ligature on amphora, Methone Pierias I, 371, no. 23 (photo by the author).

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Johnston_07

Fig. 7: Dipinto on an SOS amphora (Thera 3556) from the seaside necropolis at Kamares on Thera (courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of the Cyclades.

Johnston_08

Fig. 8: Author’s note of unpublished graffito on an Attic SOS amphora from Monte San Mauro Siracusa, Sicily, Museo Paolo Orsi 78205.

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From Gabii and Gordion to Eretria and Methone: the Rise of the Greek Alphabet | 133

| Part II: Graphê, Alphabet, Dialect, and Language

134 | Richard Janko

From Gabii and Gordion to Eretria and Methone: the Rise of the Greek Alphabet | 135

Richard Janko

From Gabii and Gordion to Eretria and Methone: the Rise of the Greek Alphabet Richard Janko From Gabii and Gordion to Eretria and Methone: the Rise of the Greek Alphabet

Abstract: The three longest inscriptions from Methone, which all seem to be in Eretrian script, are an important testimony to the diffusion of literacy across the Mediterranean world. They help us to reconstruct the prehistory of the Greek alphabet, which according to internal evidence went through three phases, from the simplest ‘Cretan’ script to Euboean, Roman and ultimately Ionian. Yet the earliest alphabetic inscriptions seem to come from Gabii in Latium and Gordion in Phrygia, a fact which contradicts the internal evidence that Greeks adapted the Phoenician script. Consistency returns only if one accepts a recent proposal to raise the chronology of the Middle and Late Geometric periods. The finds from Methone confirm that Euboean script was already well adapted to the recording of complex texts such as epic poetry.*

The discovery of numerous inscriptions in a sealed archaeological deposit at Methone in Pieria that is securely dated to the last decades of the eighth century BCE is no less a cause for celebration than their rapid and careful publication in a full and well illustrated edition. This new and very unexpected material sheds light on the diffusion of Euboean writing, on the different stages in the evolution of the Hellenic alphabet, and on when Greek poetry began to be written down. Inscriptions from 730 BCE or earlier are now known from a number of coastal sites in the central and eastern Mediterranean, ranging from Pithekoussai on Ischia off the west coast of Italy all the way to Methone in Macedonia. Even earlier inscriptions in varieties of the earliest true alphabet come from Lefkandi and Eretria in Euboea, dating by the traditional chronology to 775– 750 BCE, and from two places just beyond the fringes of the Greek-speaking world, Gordion in Phrygia and Gabii near Rome, where there is an inscription dated according to that chronology to ca. 770. However, as we shall see, the ab-

_____ * A version of this article appeared in BICS 58 (2015) 1–32. I thank Greg Woolf and the publishers of BICS for their permission to include this revision of it here. I thank my audience in Thessaloniki and also at the Institute of Classical Studies in London, where I presented this topic in June 2014. I am grateful to Matthew Newman and David Tandy for reading drafts, to James Faulkner for helpful discussion, and to the publisher’s typesetter for expert handling of special characters. Responsibility for errors remains mine.

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solute chronology of the Iron Age is controversial, and its date may be need to be raised to ca. 825 at the latest.

§1. The alphabet and dialect of the long inscriptions from Methone As the editors note, it is wonderful to see Plutarch’s story1 about the foundation of Methone by Eretrian settlers confirmed, at least in outline, by the date of the pottery that has been excavated, and with it the traditional date of 733/2 BCE for the foundation of Syracuse.2 But are the new inscriptions from Methone written in a range of different alphabets, the origins of which are correlated with the wide geographical range of the place of manufacture of the vessels on which they are inscribed, as the editors suggest, or is their nature more specifically localized? Since most of these alphabetic inscriptions consist of isolated signs, I shall focus on the longest, which offer better prospects of analysis. For convenience, unless otherwise indicated, I shall show the shapes of the letters in the forms in which they would appear when written from left to right (Phoenician forms are unaltered, i.e. facing from right to left). The writing of inscription no. 2, the ‘cup of Hakesandros which is of Euboean manufacture, is definitely in the script of Eretria in Euboea, since it uses a mu with five strokes, 𐌌, rather than four, where the final diagonal is dropped. Jeffery3 linked the five-stroked mu, which also appears on the ‘cup of Nestor’ from Pithekoussai, specifically with Eretria rather than with Chalcis, which normally has a mu with only four strokes.4 The latter mu is a modification, since the Eretrian five-stroked mu is the same as the original West Semitic form. Although Nestor’s cup is in the Eretrian rather than the Chalcidian alphabet,5 both forms of mu are known in the early inscriptions from Pithekoussai,6 which accords with Strabo’s report that Eretrians and Chalcidians founded it jointly.7 The form of delta, rounded above but with an angle at the base, is

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1 Plut. Mor. 293 A–B. 2 Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, 19–20. 3 1990 [1961], 81–2. 4 Johnston noted that a later variant of the five-stroked mu is attested at Rhegium, a colony of Chalcis (1990, 455); it is also at Himera, a colony of Chalcis, in IGDS II 15, a law of ca. 500 BCE. 5 So Walker (2004, 147), opposing Ridgway (1992, 55 with Fig. 9). 6 Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 182, with table on 184. 7 Strabo 5.4.9. Jeffery doubted the importance of Eretria’s early role in the central Mediterranean (1976, 63–4), incorrectly as it now seems.

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known at Eretria and Pithekoussai, whereas rounded delta 𐌃 is characteristic of Chalcis and Boeotia.8 The form of alpha curved at the right (𐌀), normal in Boeotian, is rare in Euboea but does occur at Eretria.9 The retrograde inscription 𐌇𐌀𐌊𐌄𐌔𐌀𐌍𐌃𐌓𐌏 𐌄𐌌[𐌉], i.e. hακεσά νδρο̄ ε̄μ[ί],10 is too incomplete to give us much precision as to its dialect. However, the initial aspiration of the owner’s name guarantees that this text was not written by an East or Central Ionian, since these dialects had psilosis. Hence it is most probably in a West Ionic dialect, i.e. Euboean. I agree with its editores principes that the text continued with a threat in verse, ending with the iambic clausula -μ]ά των ϲτερή ϲ[ετ]α̣ι, i.e. × ‒] ⏑ ‒ | ⏑ ‒ ⏑ ‒ (it is safe to restore the μ). We cannot say whether the target of this threat risked losing his eyes ([ὀμμ]ά των), his money ([χρημ]ά των),11 his cakes ([πεμμ]ά των), or whatever; there are many possibilities. If Hakesandros was a doctor — his name means ‘healer of men’, and such professions were often hereditary — it is even possible that Hakesandros administered medicine in his cup, and promises to the person who drinks from it that he will lose his pains ([πημ]ά των). The new inscription is another example of the kind of joke that was already known from the ‘cup of Nestor’, as well as the cup from Eretria published by Johnston and Andriomenou,12 which may be that of Euthymus.13 One of the earliest attested uses of the Eretrian alphabet was evidently for frivolous verses, threatening punishment for misbehaviour, that were scratched on such vessels at feasts. This supports the theory that the symposion was a major locus for the early use and the transmission of the alphabet.14 Two inscriptions are incised on vessels of Lesbian manufacture. Inscription no. 1, the ‘cup of Philion’, reads retrograde 𐌘𐌉𐌋𐌉𐌏𐌍𐌏𐌔 𐌄𐌌𐌉, i.e. Φιλίο̄νό ς ε̄μι, and inscription no. 4, the amphora of Anticydes, made in the gulf of Kalloni,15 bears written from left to right the name 𐌀𐌍𐌕𐌄𐌒𐌖𐌃𐌄𐌏𐌔 Ἀντεϙύ δεος (sic). However, one

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8 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 79, where it is her type 3. It is hard to see in the published drawing and plates, but perfectly clear on the original. 9 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 79, type 3. 10 Beekes 2010 s.v. links this aspirate with the Mycenaean word a-ke-te-re which he reconstructs as /hakestēres/ ‘healers’ on Knossos tablet V 118; it is written with the special sign a2 that indicates an initial aspirate, or else with ja- that seems sometimes to have had the same function. However, this word is to be taken as /asketēres/ and describes bronze-smiths. See further Skelton (this volume). 11 Methone Pierias I, 342. 12 Johnston/Andriomenou 1989 (Museum of Eretria no. 10697); Johnston 1990, 434 with pl. 73 (4); Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 190–2 with Abb. B 1. 13 Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 192, well suggest restoring the first line as Ε]ὀ̣ θύ μο̄ κα[λό ν ἐμι ποτέ ριον], which demands the West Ionic quantity κᾰλόν if it is to scan. 14 See now the fine study of M. Wȩcowski (this volume). 15 Kotsonas (this volume).

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should not too readily assume that these texts were written by natives of Lesbos. On the amphora the rounded delta 𐌃 is the common Euboean form, but this is also found on two early inscriptions from Larisa in Aeolis.16 On the cup of Philion the upright lambda 𐌋 is the Euboean, Attic or Boeotian form, which also occurs in north-central Crete and is the same as the original West Semitic model; but Aeolis uses the inverted lambda ᄼ.17 The five-stroked mu 𐌌 is typical of Eretria, whereas inscriptions from Aeolis have the four-stroked mu.18 Note the small omicron hanging from the upper line,19 and how tall the letters are. The very striking six-barred sigma ℥, in which the uppermost and lowest bars point towards the start of the text, is at first sight highly anomalous. However, it recurs at Methone in the retrograde inscription no. 22, ℥𐌗𐌄𐌍𐌉, i.e. (probably) σχενι. Euboean scripts normally use a three-barred sigma 𐌔; a four-barred sigma σ is also known, and the same variation prevails in Aeolis. However, a five-barred sigma also appears in recent finds of late eighth century sherds from Eretria20 and Lefkandi, where there are Late Geometric I examples in retrograde inscriptions.21 The five-barred sigma, which is the longest version of the ‘long’ sigma that was previously known, had a wide distribution elsewhere.22 It was normal in Laconia and occasionally in the eastern Argolid. It appears twice in Attic inscriptions of ca. 700 BCE,23 and once, alongside four-barred sigmas, on the Mantiklos-inscription from Thebes of ca. 700. The letter also appears at Kommos in inscription no. 43, incised before firing,24 and in an incised dedication dated to around 600 from the Samian Heraeum.25 It also appears in the script of southern Etruria, at Caere (Cerveteri) and Veii,26 and in Sabine inscriptions.27 However, we must not

_____ 16 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 79 (type 1), 359. 17 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 360–1 no. 3 (Mytilene, late seventh century). 18 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 360–1 nos. 3 and 8 (Neandria, sixth century at latest). 19 This omicron ‘hanging’ from the upper line of writing is paralleled in Jeffery’s pl. 73 no. 5, again from Eretria and of the same date. 20 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 79, type 4; Johnston 1990, 433–4, on Euboea nos. 24a, A, and B; cf. also the Late Geometric II sherd ]νος τὸ ποτέ [ριον in Museum of Eretria no. 10700, from Eratonymos Street, Eretria (Andriomenou 1981–2, 235 with fig. 102). 21 No. 101 in Jeffery 1979, 89–90 with Plate 69b; Bartoněk/Buchner1995, 196. This is to be restored Αἰσχρ̣ί̣ [ονος]. The same parallel was adduced by Méndez Dosuna (this volume). Powell 1991, 123 fig. 1, mistakenly draws a four-barred sigma. 22 Jeffery 1979, 91–2. 23 Jeffery 1982, 828. 24 See Csapo et al. 2000; Oikonomaki (this volume). 25 Jeffery 1979, 92. 26 Bonfante/Bonfante 2002, 76 fig. 6. 27 E.g. Sabini (?) / SABINI 1 (from Chiusi), 625–600 BCE, and Capenates (?) / CAPENA (?) 2, ca. 400 BCE, in Crawford 2011, i. 157–8, 173.

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forget the painted inscription on a dinos from Smyrna, which gives the vasepainter’s name as Istrocles and is dated to about 650 BCE, and another on a fragmentary greave, if not on an earlier piece as well.28 The two sigmas on the dinos have been compared with Laconian five-barred sigmas,29 but both sigmas clearly have six bars.30 The script of Smyrna has a four-stroked mu and inverted lambda ᄼ, as one would expect in Ionia. There is a seven-barred sigma on a sherd of ca. 700 from Eretria.31 The six-barred sigma is also found as a variant in early Phrygian inscriptions, to be discussed below (§3), beside sigmas with three, five and seven bars, and seven- or eight-barred sigmas appear beside five-barred versions in Sabine.32 The earliest stone inscription from the Athenian acropolis, rightly thought to be eighth century, even has a sigma with ten bars.33 Thus the ‘long’ sigma was more widely distributed and earlier than was thought. Since the West Semitic model šin W had four bars, the ‘long’ sigma was an innovative variant in some of the earliest Greek alphabets. As for the dialect of these inscriptions, the genitive of ‘Anticydes’ is the same in both Lesbian and Euboean. However, on the cup of Philion the form ἐμι rather than ἐμμι is not Lesbian, unless the Μ were to be a single writing of the double consonant; rather, it is compatible with Euboean dialect, where εἰμι, the product of compensatory lengthening after the loss of the sibilant in the inherited form *ἐσμι, is consistently written ἐμι. The distinctive features of its script suggest a very early date; as the editors remark,34 it is perhaps the oldest inscription from Methone. It may contain the first attestation of the letter phi, which next appears on the ‘cup of Nestor’.35 Philion, if he was the writer, was surely an Eretrian who happened to acquire a cup from Lesbos and used the six-barred sigma. Thus there is reason to hold that the three longest inscriptions from Methone were all written by Eretrians or by persons using the Eretrian alphabet. If

_____ 28 Jeffery 1982, 830. 29 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 341, Ionian Decapolis no. 68a, = pl. 79 no. 8. 30 Powell 1991, 141, where he illustrates another possible six-barred sigma from Smyrna of ca. 700; cf. dell’Oro (this volume). 31 Johnston 1990, 433–4, Euboea no. A, pl. 79 (5); Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 193 with Abb. B 4. 32 See Sabini (?) / [CAERE 1], 575–525 BCE, in Crawford 2011, i. 153–4. 33 IG I3 1418 (E.M. 5365); Johnston 1990, 69–70. 34 Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, 307. 35 However, phi is also seen at Pithekoussae on the amphora from Tomb 575 of ca. 740 (Buchner 1978; Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 171 no. 31; Coldstream 2003, 293). The inscription to be read ]𐌀𐌍̣𐌀𐌍𐌔𐌘𐌏𐌃̣[𐌓𐌀 on a local cup imitating Protocorinthian (Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 156 no. 3) is presumably somewhat later.

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there were Panhellenes at Methone,36 the inscriptions prove them to have been present only in the earliest sense of the term at Iliad 2. 530 (Πανέ λληνας καὶ Ἀχαιού ς), where it describes the populations of central Greece whom Locrian Ajax can dominate.37

§2. The earliest Greek alphabet: ‘Cretan’ script Despite Woodard’s ingenious theory that the alphabet arose on Cyprus,38 and the more convincing one of Powell and Ruijgh that it was a Euboean invention,39 internal evidence still suggests that the most primitive form of the Greek alphabet in terms of letter forms is the version of it that was used on Crete, although it need not follow that it was invented there. Since much the same alphabet was used on Thera and Melos, for convenience I shall in this paper call the script of Crete, Thera and Melos ‘Cretan’. Alone among Greek scripts, ‘Cretan’ sometimes preserves the forms of beta 9 and eta from the West Semitic script; the next closest is Corinthian, which must have adapted ‘Cretan’ script at a very early stage.40 Other West Semitic forms are found in both ‘Cretan’ and Euboean. Thus the Phoenician shape , the origin of upright lambda 𐌋, is used at Knossos and other places in Crete; as it survives in Euboean, Attic, and Boeotian, it was a feature of the earliest Greek alphabets.41 The ‘Cretan’ five-stroked mu 𐌌 is the same as the West Semitic form; it continues into Eretrian script, as we have seen. Cretan tends to use kappa plus san ΚΜ for ks, and xi in any form is not used in early inscriptions there; this suggests that xi was a ‘dead’ letter that was not used even though it persisted in abecedaria. At Lyttos, however, the Phoenician form of samek was used for ts in the word 𐌏 𐌏𐌉, i.e. the word that had become ὅσσοι in other dialects but was *otsoi in Cretan,42 and on Thera it is used for the initial letter of Ζεύ ς (which must nonetheless have been pronounced Dzeus);43 this

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36 So Methone Pierias I, 236, 322. 37 The term Panhellenes comes to denote all the Greeks only after Homer’s time, as in Hesiod, Erga 528 (βρά διον δὲ Πανελλή νεσσι φαεί νει), and Archilochus fr. 102 (Πανελλή νων ὀϊζὺς ἐς Θά σον συνέ δραμεν). 38 Woodard 1997; see now Woodard (this volume). 39 Powell 1991; Ruijgh 1995, 26–47; id. 1997; id. 1998; id. 2011, 260–1. 40 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 23. 41 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 30. 42 Duhoux 1982, 164–6, who notes that the word also appears at Lyttos with zeta, i.e. 𐌏𐌆𐌏𐌉. 43 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 317; Powell 1991, 130. The canonical zeta 𐌆 is unknown there (Jeffery 1990 [1961], 317).

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matches the fact that zeta was used on Crete at Dreros, Lyttos and Gortyn for ts,44 and on Thera and Melos 𐌙 was used for ks.45 Since the Eretrian,46 Sabine,47 and Etruscan form of xi 𐌎 with closed sides is an innovation for Phoenician samek with only open sides, and is not found in other alphabets, it follows that the Eretrian alphabet, at least in the first form in which it is known, was not the earliest version of the Greek alphabet. A further proof of the antiquity of ‘Cretan’ script is provided by its use of the crooked iota ϟ, resembling West Semitic yōd but without its crossbar, rather than the straight iota Ι used in Euboea and elsewhere, which is not Phoenician. (The only possible parallel in Phoenician for the straight iota is in the ProtoCanaanite left-to-right alphabet of perhaps ca. 1100 BCE from ‘Izbet Ṣarṭah in northern Israel, where yōd would appear retrograde as ,48 but this is far too early.) The script of Corinth (and of some places near Corinth or dependent on it) likewise employs crooked iota, which is also seen on the Late Geometric Ib Dipylon oinochoe from Athens. Now ‘Cretan’ script uses four-barred sigma Σ like the West Semitic šin W; this was readily distinguishable from the crooked iota ϟ. The latter must have been replaced with the upright bar Ι when sigma became the Euboean form 𐌔 rather than Σ. It is surely relevant here that ‘Cretan’ script, unlike most early Greek scripts, uses an upright hasta as word-divider;49 Phoenician writing uses such uprights, whereas the earliest Aramaic inscription, that from Tell Fakhariyah in northern Syria, dated to ca. 830, uses two vertical dots, or occasionally three.50 (Three vertical dots are attested as punctuation in Euboean and many other early scripts, including Phrygian, Latin,51

_____ 44 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 316; Buck 1955, 70. 45 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 308–9; Duhoux 1982, 165. 46 The form is now known from an abecedarium from the sanctuary of Apollo at Eretria (Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 60 no. 3); see Table 1. 47 Crawford 2011, i. 9, who accepts that in Sabine it was assigned the value í, presumably because it was available as a dead letter in the abecedarium. 48 Kochavi 1977. The abecedarium is line 5; the language of lines 1–4 is unidentified, but might well be Philistine. 49 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 308–9; see now the Theran house-model, ca. 650–625, A in Johnston 1990, 470 with pl. 79.4–5. This divider is also known at Sicyon near Corinth, while Laconia uses a curved line (ibid. 138, 183–4). 50 See Sass 2005, 40–3 with fig. 13, who dates it to the ninth century, perhaps the 840s to 820s; so too Whisenant 2008, 155–6 n. 505. 51 On the Praenestine fibula words are separated by two vertical dots, but the first syllable of 𐌅𐌇𐌄⁝𐌅𐌇𐌀𐌊𐌄𐌃 fefaked, i.e. ‘fecit’, is separated by three. This is, I suggest, an instance of the ‘syllabic writing’ known at Veii from ca. 600 and in Venetic (cf. Wallace 2008, 26). The authenticity of this controversial inscription has been upheld by the recent scientific analysis of Edilberto Formigli and Daniela Ferro of the Department of Physics at La Sapienza: see http://www.

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Sabine,52 Etruscan,53 and the script used to write a form of Etruscan on Lemnos in the later sixth century BCE.)54 Hence I suggest that the vertical word-divider was the origin of the upright iota Ι. Previous studies of early alphabetic epigraphy, which needs to expand its horizons to include these other languages, seem not to have taken the worddivider into account when considering how letter forms evolve. The use of the vertical bar must have been connected with that of the crooked iota, since there would otherwise be confusion about the meaning of the upright bar. Its replacement by the vertical dots surely derives from Aramaic. Sass55 rejects the suggestion that the Greek and Phrygian word dividers derive from Aramaic,56 on the ground that only Phoenician writing was known in Anatolia in the eighth century, but this neglects the evidence from Italy and begs the question of the origin of Phrygian script. Ruijgh57 proves that the letter names were borrowed from Phoenician, since Phoenician rôš ‘head’ is clearly the origin of ῥῶ, rather than Aramaic, where the letter name is rêš; but this does not prove that there was no Aramaic influence on the development of the script. The Etrusco-Latin alphabet exhibits one other form that derives from the earliest Aramaic script. In arguing that the Greek alphabet was created in ca. 1000 BCE, Ruijgh pointed to the early form of the West Semitic letter ‘ayin.58 There was originally a dot, representing the pupil, in the centre of West Semitic ‘ayin, ‘eye’, which is still seen on the Proto-Canaanite inscriptions of ca. 1100 BCE from ‘Izbet Ṣarṭah in northern Israel59 and of ca. 925–900 (the transition from Protogeometric to Geometric) on the bowl from Tekke near Knossos. This form is standard on the earliest Aramaic inscription from Tell Fakhariyah of

_____ anteamurlo.it/. Its letter forms continue to look correct as our knowledge increases. The Lapis Niger from the Forum uses three vertical dots as word-separators. 52 E.g. Sabini (?) (Caere 1), 575–525 BCE, in Crawford 2011, i. 153–4. 53 Wallace 2008, 25. 54 Bonfante/Bonfante 2002, 60–2 with fig. 4 (two or three dots); Wallace 2008, 218–21 with fig. 12.1. For more details see Heurgon 1980 and 1982. That Etruscans had settled on Lemnos is recorded in traditions about Pythagoras: so Aristoxenus in his Life of Pythagoras (fr. 11 Wehrli, in D.L. 8. 1 and Clem. Alex. Strom. 1. 62); Neanthes, active in ca. 200 BCE, in book 5 of his Mythika (FGrH 84 F 29, in Iambl. Vit. Pythag. 2); and Antonius Diogenes’ Wonders beyond Thule, cited by Porphyry, Vit. Pythag. 10–13. Their script is so divergent from standard Etruscan that they must have learned to write separately. 55 Sass 2005, 139 n. 228. 56 So Bordreuil 1993, 263. 57 Ruijgh 1995, 27 n. 68. 58 Ruijgh 1995, 40–3. 59 Kochavi 1977.

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ca. 830;60 however, it is not found in ninth- or eighth-century Phoenician texts. The dotted omicron ʘ appears in ‘Cretan’ script at Lyttos and on Thera,61 in a possible inscription consisting only of ʘ[, Middle Geometric II in date, from the temple of Apollo Daphnephoros at Eretria,62 in an inscription of ca. 720 painted before firing on the foot of a krater imported from Euboea but found at Pithekoussai, in the phrase 𐌄𐌗𐌈𐌄ʘ εξ θεο̄,63 and in inscription no. 5 from Methone (𐌈𐌄ʘ θεο̄); it is not on Nestor’s cup. This dotted omicron is used to mark lengthened /o/, rather like later Ω; Jeffery’s classification of it as a kind of omega64 has obscured its importance. Dotted omicron is present in the model alphabets from Etruria found at Marsiliana d’Albegna, Formello near Veii, and Sorbo near Caere,65 and in the script used on Lemnos to write a form of Etruscan.66 The seventh-century Latin inscription from Gabii Σ𐌀𐌋𐌖𐌄𐌕ʘ𐌃𐌕𐌉𐌕𐌀, i.e. salvetōd Tita, has it,67 although it is not used in 𐌄𐌂𐌏, i.e. egō, in the equally old inscription of Vendia.68 Perhaps the ‘Cretan’ script introduced an Aramaic variant in order to distinguish short o from long ō, but did not formally add it to the abecedarium. Conversely, in a clear misunderstanding of the convention, an inscription from Tanagra uses two dotted omicrons for short omicron and an undotted one for omega, in the name 𐌀𐌁𐌀𐌉ʘ𐌃𐌏𐌓ʘ𐌔 Ἀβαιό δωρος.69 The familiar alternative, the supplemental letter omega Ω, was added to the end of the Ionian alphabet by ca. 650 BCE at the latest, when it appears on Samos.70 All the Greek scripts use Phoenician variant forms to divide Semitic wāw into digamma F and hypsilon , with hypsilon added on to the alphabet after

_____ 60 Sass 2005, 42 fig. 13. 61 Ruijgh 1995, 42. For Crete, cf. Johnston 1990, 468 no. 14b, pl. 79 (1), the mitra of Spensitheos from Arkades, ca. 500. For early Theraean examples see Powell 1991, 142 = Jeffery 1990 [1961], 317, 319, pl. 61 (3.ii); Powell 1991, 144 = Jeffery 1990 [1961], pl. 62 (26), from Anaphe, ca. 700–675; 𐌄Γʘ ἐγώ on the Theran house-model, ca. 650–625, in Johnston 1990, 470 with pl. 79 (4–5). 62 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 66 no. 26. 63 Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 178 (unless it should be interpreted as ἐχ). 64 Jeffery 1990 [1961] 309. Johnston deems it a development of the received shape Ο, and denies that it is present in the earlier material (1990, 426). 65 Bonfante/Bonfante 2002, 131–3 with figs. 12–13. 66 Bonfante/Bonfante 2002, 60–2 with fig. 4; Wallace 2008, 218–21 with fig. 12.1. In inscription A both Ο and ʘ occur rather than the expected Etruscan letter (inscription B has only Ο). 67 Colonna 1980. The O, incomplete at the top, has a diagonal in the lower right that crosses the arc, rather like Q. 68 Baldi 2002, 126 (the inscription contains no short o). 69 IG VII, 612, cited by Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 178. 70 Johnston 1990, 428; this is earlier than the instance at Smyrna of ca. 625, cited as oldest by Coldstream 2003, 278.

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the last Semitic letter tāw.71 It has been suggested that similar variants provided the basis for dividing qōph 𐌘 into qoppa 𐌒 and phi φ, tāw ٢ into tau Τ and chi Χ, and kaph into kappa Κ and psi 𐌙.72 The invention of hypsilon was the decisive innovation that separates Greek from Phoenician script. Thus, if we could accept the authenticity of the bronze tablets in the Schøyen collection, reported to have been found in the Fayum in Egypt, which bear an alphabet that ends with the letter tāw/tau and is written out from right to left many times in scriptio continua, this alphabet would be Phoenician, not Greek.73 However, the mixture of ancient and more recent shapes proves beyond doubt that these tablets are not authentic.74 Lasly, the Dipylon vase from Athens preserves not only crooked iota but also another archaic shape, the West Semitic sideways alpha , which is found in hardly any other Greek text,75 including those in ‘Cretan’ script, unless the alpha of the Schøyen tablets shaped (here shown left to right) is another. Remarkably, the form appears in two early inscriptions from central Italy, a retrograde graffito 𐌋̣[ on a cinerary urn from Bologna dated ca. 800–750,76 and a retrograde initial abecedarium (but with the letters facing from left to right) Β+𐌃 on an amphora with spirals from Veii, dated ca. 675–650.77 Sidelong alpha

_____ 71 Heubeck 1986, 17. The seventh-century law from Dreros (BCH 61 (1937) 333–8 and 62 (1938) 194–5 = Jeffery 1990 [1961], 311 no. 1, pl. 59) uses the digamma both for the consonant w and for the second element of a diphthong, e.g. αϝτον for αὐτό ν. However, we cannot deduce from this fact that its alphabet does not use a separate hypsilon, since nowhere in it does the phoneme /u/ occur between two consonants (I thank Rudolph Wachter for this point). 72 See Jeffery 1990 [1961], 36, for references (so too Heubeck 1986, 17). Ruijgh (1997, 667–8) suggests that the first two supplemental letters were Φ and 𝈙, back-to-back versions of the early forms of Π (originally rounded) and Κ, and that 𐌗 and 𐌙 were created from 𝈙. See also Powell 1991, 49 n. 142, who proposes (1991, 58) that the original value of psi 𐌙 was *ϙh (i.e. an aspirate corresponding to qoppa). 73 Pace Woodard 1997, 157, who thinks they are Greek; Woodard 2014. The tablets are published in Scott et al. 2005 (mainly technical studies, with no good epigraphic commentary); another tablet from the same set is in Würzburg (see Heubeck 1986). 74 The script is close to that of Euboea, except that the lambda ᄼ is inverted, and of Crete (but it includes sigma); it differs from Phoenician script in that it has inverted lambda ᄼ, Eretrian 𐌎 xi with closed sides rather than open , qoppa 𐌒 where the upright does not cross the circle, and upright four-barred sigma Σ. It fluctuates between eighth-century and later Greek forms: Ε and F with horizontals as well as diagonals, Ζ as well as 𐌆, and lambda with diagonals one of which sometimes reaches the base-line, as Λ, and sometimes does not, as ᄼ; yet it has crooked iota ϟ and Phoenician ṣāḏē ٣. Heubeck noted the admixture (1986, 14–16). 75 There may be a parallel in the inscriptions from Hymettus of ca. 700 (Jeffery 1982, 828). 76 This is from Tomb 21 Benacci-Caprara of villanovan Bologna (Colonna 2005, 479–80 with fig. 3). 77 Colonna 2003; Colonna 2005, 479–80 with fig. 2.

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is also known at Pithekoussai on a late eighth century sherd inscribed in Phoenician ]𐌋 .78 Jeffery suspected that the inscriber of the Dipylon vase was not using the script ancestral to what we call Attic script, but rather, perhaps, that he came from the place where the alphabet was first adapted.79 However, although his pi Ր is rounded like that of Crete and Pithekoussai,80 which continues the Phoenician model, his lambda ᄼ is inverted, uniquely in early Attic inscriptions.81 This inverted lambda is a departure from the Phoenician original, as we have seen. But the presence of the sideways alpha in central Italy confirms that that region received the alphabet at a very early date indeed. In short, the internal evidence of the letter forms and lack of the ‘supplemental’ signs Φ, Χ, and Ψ seem to indicate that the ‘Cretan’ script is the oldest. This is not entirely certain, however, since in Crete the supplemental signs could have persisted unused, for lack of need, at the end of the original abecedarium, since no early Cretan alphabets are known.82 But the fact that phi and chi follow hypsilon at the end of all the other Greek alphabets does suggest that these signs were added, either at the same time as hypsilon or in a subsequent phase of adaptation. As for when the Greek alphabet was created, Ruijgh argued on linguistic grounds that it was invented in ca. 1000 BCE.83 He holds that the adoption of Phoenician hē with a weak aspirate as epsilon and ḥēth with an emphatic aspirate as eta shows that the alphabet was adopted before Greek aspirate so weakened as to allow elision as in, e.g., Homeric ἐφ’ ἁλό ς as compared with Mycenaean /opihala/. His linguistic analysis is convincing, but his dating of the Greek sound-change to 1000 rather than, say, 800, is arbitrary; we know only that it occurred between 1200 and Homer’s time. Likewise, he suggests that the borrowing of ṣāḏē as the letter ‘san’ reflects the early pronunciation of the letter as ts and shows that the alphabet was adapted before the Greek dialects had altered *ts into tt, ss or other outcomes. Again the linguistic argument is valid, but the dating to ca. 1000 is not, since it is clear that *ts persisted in some environ-

_____ 78 Jeffery 1982, 828; Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 188 with Abb. A 2; Coldstream thinks it is Greek (2003, 279–80 with Fig. 94). 79 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 68. 80 Coldstream 2003, 279–80 with fig. 94; Jeffery does not note this fact (the pi is her form 1). 81 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 66. 82 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 35; Powell 1991, 48–63, esp. 55–7. The use of phi 𐌘 in Eteocretan φραισος for the place-name Πραῖσος is uncertain, since the φ could conceivably be a qoppa standing for a labiovelar: Cretan qoppa has the identical shape 𐌘, which is the same as the West Semitic model. Duhoux (1982, 172–3) opposes Jeffery’s proposal that the letter be read qoppa, and is clearly right in some cases. 83 Ruijgh 1995, 1998.

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ments and dialects until well after the Ionian migration of ca. 1000. The latter date supplies only a terminus post quem for the adoption of the alphabet. West Semitic script was known in the Aegean by 900 BCE, since late ProtoCanaanite writing, from which Phoenician was then evolving, appears on a bronze bowl dated to the transition from Late Protogeometric to Early Geometric, i.e. ca. 900 or a little earlier by the traditional chronology, found at Tekke near Knossos on Crete.84 Aramaic inscriptions of King Hazael of Damascus on two pieces of equine bronze armour, dated by Levantine chronologies to ca. 830, were found at the temple of Apollo at Eretria and at the Heraeum on Samos,85 but these reached Greece as late eighth-century dedications.86 A Phoenician retrograde graffito KPLŠ has been found at Eretria; it is written on a local Middle Geometric I sherd from a context no later than Middle Geometric II, i.e. ca. 800–750 BCE according to the traditional dating.87 Its inscription probably means ‘double’88 from the root KPL. This interpretation leaves the final -š unexplained, but seems more likely than that it reflects a Greek name ending in sigma or the Greek word κά πηλος ‘merchant’, although it is true that Greek final -ς is normally transliterated into Phoenician with -Š.89 The presence of Phoenician writing in Eretria in Middle Geometric II shows that Greek script could even have been invented at Eretria rather than in Crete. Indeed, Popham dated two very fragmentary inscriptions from Lefkandi to local Sub-Protogeometric III (= Middle Geometric II),90 and a sherd inscribed retrograde ]𐌈𐌏̣𐌉[ ]θοι̣ [ was found

_____ 84 Sass 2005, 34–6, 153–4. 85 Johnston 1990, 426. 86 They would have been looted when Tiglath-Pileser III captured Damascus in 733/2 (Lane Fox 2008, 116–18). 87 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 76–7, no. 66. 88 Garbini 1978 reads an inscription on the Levantine amphora from Pithekoussai Tomb 575 (Late Geometric I, ca. 740, according to Buchner 1978, 142) as KPLN in Aramaic, i.e. ‘double’ in the dual with the correct Aramaic suffix; cf. Hebrew kiplàyim ‘double’. For a hybrid AramaicGreek interpretation see Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 187–8; Coldstream 2003, 293. The Semitic texts from Pithekoussai are all Late Geometric: for a convenient collection of them see Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 187–9. 89 See Schmitz 2009, 125–6, who convincingly suggests that the mace-bearing Storm-god repeatedly named B‘L KRNTRYŠ in the great Phoenician inscription from Karatepe in Cilicia has the Greek title *κορυνητή ριος formed from *κορυνή τηρ ‘mace-bearer’, cf. Homeric κορυνή της from κορύ νη. 90 Jeffery 1979, 89–90 (no. 102) and 93, with pl. 69d; Powell 1991, 15 n. 34, where Popham per litt. suggested a date of ca. 775 BCE; Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 195, where they republish all the early sherds from Lefkandi. The surviving letters of no. 102 are probably retrograde ]σ̣α rather than left to right αμ̣[. The upright alpha shows that the script is not Phoenician.

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in a Middle Geometric II level of the sanctuary Apollo Daphnephoros at Eretria.91 Since these texts do not include the letter hypsilon, they do not prove that the most decisive innovation, the invention of that vowel-sign, had yet taken place. However, the letter forms of ‘Cretan’ script are certainly closest to those of the monumental West Semitic writing of the late ninth and early eighth centuries,92 except that the Greek form of wāw 𐌅 is the cursive form, and the monumental Phoenician form was put at the original end of the alphabet as the hypsilon. The best parallels are the Ba‘al of Lebanon inscriptions on a set of bronze bowls from Qart-hadašt, i.e. Kition (Larnaca) in Cyprus, which are now in the Louvre and are dated on palaeographical grounds to the first half of the eighth century.93 But such was Phoenician mobility that their find-spot does not necessarily support the theory that the Greek alphabet arose in Cyprus.

§3. Gabii, Pithekoussai and Iron Age chronology The lack of early alphabetic inscriptions from Crete and Cyprus tells against either as the place where the alphabet was adapted. A left-to-right Greek graffito on a Late Geometric II skyphos from ca. 725–700, reading ]𐌉𐌀𐌁𐌄𐌏̣[, i.e. ].αβεο̣ [ in an alphabet that may be Euboean, has at last been discovered by the mouth of the Orontes at ‘Al Mina’, ancient Ποταμοὶ Καρῶν.94 However, this is not the kind of evidence that is needed to support the popular theory that the alphabet originated there.95 Obviously we have to reckon with the dangers of the argumentum ex silentio which has so often been used to date the Greek alphabet;96 but if the finds of inscriptions on durable pottery and bronze reflect the diffusion of alphabetic writing, it originated neither there nor in Crete. If the distribution of finds does reflect at all accurately where and when the alphabet originated, and there was not a long period when the only such writing was on perishable materials, we need precision about the date of these inscriptions. However, the chronology of the Geometric period has recently become hotly contested; without a resolution of the difficulties, it will be hard to determine

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91 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 75 no. 64. 92 Isserlin 1982, 816; Sass 2005, 182. 93 See Sass 2005, 134, 144, 182, for a date rather earlier than 750, following Lipiński 2004, 47– 8. 94 Johnston 1990, 426, 476; Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 199 with Abb. B 20; Lane Fox 2008, 105– 7, who determines the site’s ancient name and shows from Assyrian records that it was founded before 738. 95 Cf. Young 1969, 294–6; Johnston 1990, 425; Lane Fox 2008, 136; Lemaire 2008, 51–2. 96 For a vigorous polemic see Ruijgh 1995, 36–9.

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where and when the earliest inscriptions appear. The relative chronology of Proto-Geometric and Geometric pottery, based on stylistic sequencing and closed deposits, is not in doubt. However, Coldstream determined the absolute dates of the various phases by reference to finds of Greek pottery in contexts in Israel that others have dated —not without continuing debate— by historical reasoning; these have in their turn been used to determine the absolute dating of archaeological phases in the whole central and western Mediterranean, since Greek pottery can be given more precise stylistic dates than can the indigenous or Levantine wares. However, during the last decade these absolute dates have been called into question by dendrochronology from central Europe combined with new radio-carbon dates from Italy and Carthage. This new chronology, advanced by Nijboer and others,97 is based on radiocarbon dates from Carthage, Francavilla Maritima near Metapontum, and Fidene near Rome. It strongly suggests that Coldstream’s absolute dating of the phases of the Geometric period is too low. Under the new schema, Early Geometric I began 25–50 years earlier than the traditional date of ca. 900 BCE, Middle Geometric I some 50–75 years earlier (i.e. ca. 925–900 rather than ca. 850), Middle Geometric II similarly (i.e. ca. 875– 850 rather than ca. 800) and Late Geometric I likewise (i.e. ca. 825–800 rather than ca. 750). However, the date of the end of Late Geometric remains much the same; for the chronological uncertainty ends with the Late Geometric II Tomb 325 at Pithekoussai, which contained a scarab of Bocchoris, who reigned in 721– 716 or 716–711. Hence Early Protocorinthian cannot begin until ca. 715. The new chronology lengthens the duration of Late Geometric, extends the period when the Greeks were exploring the central Mediterranean, and allows time for the Phoenicians to settle there before the Greeks’ arrival, as Thucydides attests that they did.98 Radiocarbon dating supports the traditional date for the foundation of Carthage of 814.99 Since Euboean Late Geometric I pottery from Pithekoussai was found in the lowest levels at Carthage,100 Euboeans had settled at Pithekoussai before ca. 800.101 The discovery, in Tomb 482 of the cemetery of Osteria dell’Osa at ancient Gabii near Rome, of a ‘Greek’ inscription scratched on a local impasto flask

_____ 97 For convenient summaries see Nijboer et al. 2000, 173–4; Nijboer 2005, 527–56, esp. 528 with Tables A–B and 541 with Table D. 98 Hist. 6. 2. 6. 99 Docter et al. 2005. 100 Docter et al. 2005, 561. 101 Demand 2013, 245–6.

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dated to Latial IIB2,102 i.e. traditionally ca. 775 BCE but now, according to the new radiocarbon dating, at the latest ca. 825,103 has seemed so isolated in time and space that scholars of Greek and Semitic epigraphy have been reluctant to take it seriously.104 Yet it must be genuine. Although the very top of the pit of tomb 482 was cut by the seventh-century tomb 485, the archaeological evidence shows that the flask cannot have intruded from the later burial; it was found in the pit in a marginal position on the surface of the stones that were used to fill Tomb 482.105 If it was used for extinguishing the pyre, a custom known at Pontecagnano, this would explain its find-spot.106 The text appears to read from left to right 𐌄𐌖𐌋𐌉𐌍, which is hard to interpret but may mean εὔλιν(ος) ‘good at spinning’, possibly an attribute of the woman with whom it was buried.107 However, the lambda faces in the opposite direction. If we read instead from right to left, and disregard the fact that 𐌄𐌖 and 𐌍 then face the wrong way, the reading would be 𐌍𐌉𐌋𐌖𐌄, which one might interpret as Latin ni lue ‘do not pay’;108 however, this approach is harder both linguistically109 and because it entails reversing the direction of more letters. Whatever this text means and whether its language is Latin or Greek, the use of the apparent vowels 𐌄, 𐌖 and 𐌉 shows that it is not in West Semitic script. It contains hypsilon in its canonical early shape, and the creation of hypsilon is the salient feature of the early alphabet. The upright iota 𐌉 shows that the inscription from Gabii is not in ‘Cretan’ script either, but has advanced beyond the crooked iota; yet its ductus is characteristic of very early inscriptions. According to Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Romulus and Remus were sent as children to

_____ 102 See Ridgway 1996, who shows that the grave, that of a woman, has features reminiscent of those at Pithekoussai. 103 See Nijboer et al. 2000, 173–4; Nijboer 2004, 527–56, esp. 528 with Tables A–B and 541 with Table D. 104 Thus Sass 2005, 155–6 (with further references), thinks that either the pot is later than the grave or that it is an imitation of Phoenician script, which the Latins could have known from a contemporary Phoenician settlement on Sardinia. 105 Bartoloni and Nizzo 2004, 411 n. 21; Colonna (2005, 479) and Bietti Sestieri (2005, 486–7) conclusively disprove on archaeological grounds the suggestion of an intrusion. 106 So Ridgway 1996, 92 n. 33. 107 Ridgway 1992, 93; cf. Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 204–5, who republish the inscription. Pausanias (8.21.3) says that Olen of Lycia applied this epithet to Eileithyia in his Hymn to her (the semi-mythical poet Olen’s fragments seem never to have been collected). 108 Lane Fox 2008, 133, after Colonna 2005, who took it as ‘hands off’. 109 The negative ought to be spelled nei as in other early Latin inscriptions, e.g. no. 3 in Ernout 1966, 7–9, cf. 44, and the Garigliano bowl (see Baldi 2002, 200–2).

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Gabii to learn Greek letters;110 this would have been in around the 770s BCE. The oldest Latin inscription, Σ𐌀𐌋𐌖𐌄𐌕ʘ𐌃𐌕𐌉𐌕𐌀, i.e. salvetōd Tita, perhaps of ca. 670, comes from tomb 115 of the same cemetery.111 In this part of Italy, not far from Pithekoussai, we would expect to encounter Euboeans rather than Cretans; and since the iota is straight not crooked, the script is probably Euboean. Phoenician, North Syrian and Euboean inscriptions at Pithekoussai may go back to the origins of that settlement; Euboeans and Levantines may both have been present from the start.112 Could the alphabet have even been created at Pithekoussai?113 If the new chronology is sustained, the site can no longer be said to have been founded too late for this to be possible.114 As has been noted, ‘the Etruscan alphabet … seems to preserve the traces of a very early Greek alphabet, older in part than the split between ‘Western’ and ‘Eastern’ Greek alphabets, since it preserves all three Phoenician sibilants, samekh, ṣāḏē and šin, which neither ‘Western’ nor ‘Eastern’ Greek alphabet possesses any longer (s is written with either sigma or san; archaic Etruscan had two different sounds, written with altogether four characters).’115 The borrowing of the Euboean alphabet to write Etruscan surely goes back into the Geometric period; the earliest Etruscan inscription dates from ca. 700,116 and the model abecedaria from Etruria, like the one from Marsiliana d’Albegna, dated 675– 650, have the five-stroked Eretrian mu and not its Chalcidian four-stroked variant.117 Euboean contact with Veii can be documented as early as the start of Middle Geometric II, i.e. ca. 850–825 according to the new chronology.118 The earliest alphabets so far known in Italy already had the supplemental letters, since the Etruscan model abecedaria include them in the order 𐌖𐌗𐌘𐌙,119 and the early Latin alphabet included chi (𐌢 or +) after V with the sound-value ks as in

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110 δοθῆναι πρὸς τῶν τρεφό ντων εἰς Γαβί ους … ὡς Ἑλλά δα παιδεί αν ἐκμά θοιεν, κἀκεῖ παρ’ ἀνδρά σιν ἰδιοξέ νοις τοῦ Φαιστύ λου τραφῆναι γρά μματα καὶ μουσικὴν καὶ χρῆσιν ὅπλων Ἑλληνικῶν ἐκδιδασκομέ νους μέ χρις ἥβης (Ant. Rom. 1. 84. 5); cf. Plut. Vit. Rom. 6. 2; Plut. Mor. 320E; Steph. Byz. s.v. Τά βιοι (sic). The passage was adduced by Peruzzi 1992, 459. The truth of this report has of course been doubted (Ampolo 1997, 211–17). 111 Colonna 1980; cf. Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 205. Baldi 2002, 126, dates it to ca. 620–600. 112 Demand 2013, 245–6. For a more exclusively Euboean interpretation see Lane Fox 2008, 136–58. 113 This theory was floated by Segert 1977, and with more conviction by Holloway and Holloway 1993; contra, Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 183. 114 Johnston 1990, 426. 115 Bonfante/Bonfante 2002, 52–5 (sic). 116 Wallace 2008, 17. 117 See the illustration in Bonfante/Bonfante 2002, 130, with Table 1 in §5 below. 118 Tandy 2000, 66–72, esp. 66; Lane Fox 2008, 132–3. 119 Bonfante/Bonfante 2002, 130.

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Euboean script, as in 𐌉𐌏𐌖+𐌌𐌄𐌍𐌕𐌀 iouxmenta on the Lapis Niger from the Forum in Rome. If the inscribed flask from Gabii is rightly dated to ca. 825 at the latest, one of two conclusions follow. Either (i) the alphabet with vowels is first attested in Italy (yet, as we have noted, this is a developed version of it); or (ii) the chronology of Iron Age Greece needs to be revised upwards too, in which case the texts from Lefkandi and Eretria may be just as early as that from Gabii. Although the ‘Cretan’ alphabet seems the oldest, it may not have been native to Crete, but rather to Eretria and its overseas settlements. Given the presence of Middle Geometric II inscriptions in Eretrian script at Eretria, one is inclined to take more seriously the ancient traditions that the alphabet was invented by the Euboean seafarer Palamedes.120 The most suggestive of these is Plutarch’s story that Palamedes added four letters to the sixteen of Cadmus, and Simonides added four more,121 which are specified elsewhere as Η, Ξ, Ψ and Ω.122 The latter detail makes excellent historical sense if Simonides introduced Ionic script to the Athenians, who did not use these letters in their epichoric alphabet, since they wrote xi as Χ𐌔 and psi as Φ𐌔. Pliny specifies Palamedes’ extra letters as Ζ, Υ, Φ, and Χ;123 it is odd that Ζ is included, but the others are the first three supplementals. When Herodotus claims that the Ionians who dwelled round about the Cadmeans took over the Phoenician letters from them,124 he may be telling the same story, since his ‘Ionians’ are surely Euboeans, who may have controlled parts of Boeotia before the Lelantine War.125

§4. The origins of the Phrygian and Lemnian scripts External evidence from the other end of the Greek world comes from Gordion in north-west Anatolia. As in many early Greek inscriptions, the ductus of the early Phrygian inscriptions is tall, the omicron is small, and vertical dots are used to separate words or phrases. No abecedaria are known. The supplemental letters

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120 So first Stesichorus fr. 213, from his Oresteia Book 2. Cf. Powell 1991, 233–6, who is followed by Ruijgh 1995, 39. 121 Plut. Mor. 738F = Quaest. Conv. 9. 3. 2. 122 Scholia to Dionysius Thrax i. 185.5 Hilgard. 123 Palameden adiecisse quattuor hac figura ΖΥΦΧ, totidem post eum Simoniden melicum ΨΞΩΘ (Nat. Hist. 7. 192). 124 Hist. 5. 58. 125 Buck, R.J. 1979, 79, 100; cf. Jeffery 1979, 63–4, and Parker 1997, 167.

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are for u (alongside 𐌅 for w), a sampi 𐌣 or ͳ for ts that resembles Ionic ͳ,126 a sign or for y (alongside Ι for i),127 and a 𐌙 of obscure sound-value. Zeta, eta, theta, xi, ṣāḏē, san, phi and omega are unattested. As we saw in §1 above, Phrygian uses the ‘long’ sigma as well as sigmas with three or four bars. Like early Greek inscriptions but unlike West Semitic, Phrygian inscriptions run boustrophedon as well as from left to right and from right to left. The first Phrygian inscriptions have been redated to much earlier than formerly, and this redating has the potential dramatically to affect the history of the Greek alphabet, as Brixhe pointed out.128 First, the timbers that support the roof of the great Tumulus MM, which was formerly ascribed to King Midas in the 720s but more probably belongs to his predecessor Gordias, have been decisively redated by dendrochronology to 743–741 BCE.129 In 2007 Richard Liebhart found inscribed on these wooden beams four names, some of which also appear in the inscriptions on wax that were found with the burial;130 these must date from ca. 740. Above all, the destruction-level of the citadel at Gordion, which had been dated to ca. 690 BCE by a suggested association with the Cimmerians’ sack of the city around that date, has been conclusively redated by radiocarbon analysis to ca. 805, more than a century earlier. Inscriptions on pottery found above this destruction-level are now dated to the first half of the eighth century, from ca. 800 down to ca. 750 BCE. At least three, G-237, G-249, and G-104, two of them from left to right, come from the lowest level of phase 6a, perhaps with G202 as well;131 this level should belong to the early eighth century, since rebuilding immediately followed the fire. According to the traditional chronology, these texts seem to antedate any Greek inscriptions that are known132 —unless of course that from Gabii is in Greek. Hence Brixhe dates the Phrygian alphabet before the Greek, and suggests that knowledge of the Phoenician script reached Phrygia overland across Anatolia, where it was used beside hieroglyphic Lu-

_____ 126 No. 22 in the table of the alphabet of Gordion in Brixhe and Lejeune 1984. The fact that sampi was located at the end of the alphabet after omega in the mid-seventh century Samian abecedary suggests that it was a later addition to that script (Johnston 1990, 471, no. Ia, with pl. 79 no. 7). 127 So first Lejeune 1969. 128 Brixhe 2004; cf. Lemaire 2008, 51–2. For the archaeological implications see Rose, Darbyshire and De Vries 2011. 129 Manning et al. 2001; Manning et al. 2003. 130 http://sites.museum.upenn.edu/gordion/articles/history/28-funeralmm. 131 Brixhe 2002, 22 with n. 15; Brixhe 2004, 276. Sass 2005, 147, prints G-239 by mistake for G-249. 132 Brixhe 2004, 278, who does not refer to Gabii.

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wian in the kingdom of Que/Cilicia, ruled by the house of Mopsus, and even at Ivriz north of the Taurus range.133 Brixhe has ingeniously argued that the original alphabet created two different forms from West Semitic yōd, viz. the upright iota Ι, which it used to express vocalic i, and the sign or for y, which he derives from the crooked iota; he compares the creation of wau and hypsilon from Phoenician wāw. Both forms are used in the Phrygian alphabet, but not of course in Greek, where, Brixhe argues, crooked iota was replaced with the upright bar to avoid confusion in those scripts where, rather than use ‘san’ Μ, sigma was employed in the forms 𐌔, Σ, or with any number of bars in between. Brixhe believes that the sign for y, i.e. or , would have been placed at the end of the alphabet.134 Unfortunately, however, we do not know the sequence of the Phrygian abecedarium. Confusion between crooked iota and its twin three-barred sigma was certainly a risk; the two signs occur together only on the Dipylon oinochoe, where confusion is avoided by reversing the direction of the three-barred sigmas.135 However, although the use of or as y could conceivably be a sign of the great antiquity of the Phrygian alphabet, other letter forms decisively prove that Phrygian script cannot itself be the origin of the Greek alphabet, but was already a modified form of it. First, Phrygian uses a mu with four strokes, as in the alphabets of Chalcis, Corinth, Aeolis, and Ionia, rather than with five, as in those of Crete, Eretria and the West Semitic model. Second, the Phrygian lambda is neither the Euboean or West Semitic 𐌋, but is inverted to ᄼas in the Corinthian, Ionic, and Aeolic alphabets (and in some forms of ‘Cretan’). Finally, Phrygian never uses the dotted omicron. Hence Phrygian borrowed from a Greek alphabet that is more developed than Cretan and Eretrian. The closest parallels are in fact with the scripts of Aeolis and Lemnos, as we will see. A script rather like Phrygian is found in the Lemnian script on the stele from Kaminia in Lemnos, which encodes an epitaph in a form of Etruscan.136 Like early Greek and Phrygian inscriptions, the Lemnian texts are written either boustrophedon or in Schlangenschrift, with the first line written from right to left in both cases. This script uses inverted lambda ᄼ and four-stroked mu (as in Phrygian), a square omicron in inscription B (as sometimes in Phrygian), a dot-

_____ 133 Brixhe 2004; cf. Sass 2005, 148; Lemaire 2008, 51–2. 134 Brixhe 2004, 281–3. Brixhe (1982, 40, 167–71, 176–7) suggested that Eteocretan used crooked iota for i and 𝈰 for y, but there is only one instance of the supposed y; Jeffery 1990 [1961], 308–9, had taken as chi. 135 Brixhe 2004, 283 n. 9. The reversal is common even where there are no crooked iotas, e.g. on the cup of Nestor. 136 Bonfante/Bonfante 2002, 60–2 with fig. 4; Wallace 2008, 218–21 with fig. 12.1.

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ted omicron ʘ in inscription A (this is not found in Phrygian), four-bar sigma Σ, and 𐌙 for kh, together with 𐌇 and 𐌘 (neither is found in Phrygian); it employs 𐌊 and 𐌏 where Etruscan uses 𐌂 and 𐌖. Although the Lemnian sign is normally transcribed ś, must be zeta (ts?), since 𐌉𐌅𐌀𐌉 is from the same root as Etruscan zivas ‘having lived’.137 By this principle, the Lemnian words Σ𐌉𐌀𐌋𐌙𐌅𐌄𐌉: and 𐌀𐌅𐌉: will be transcribed sialχveiz and aviz and correspond to Etruscan sealχlś ‘forty’ and avils ‘years’, where z would be an easy sound-change from ls; the dicolon where l appears in Etruscan surely conveys phonological information.138 Since the Lemnian letter looks like the Phrygian sign or for y, and the crooked iota is not present in either the Aeolic or the Lemnian or the Rhodian script, one wonders whether this Phrygian sign or for y is in fact a reapplication of zeta or an independent variation on the upright iota rather than a descendant of the crooked iota of ‘Cretan’ script. The Greeks had no recollection of having borrowed the alphabet from the Phrygians; they spoke of Φοικινεῖα γρά μματα or Καδμεῖα γρά μματα, but never Φρύ για γρά μματα.139 Jeffery suggested that the Phrygian letter shapes are closest to those of inscriptions from Aeolis, which have inverted lambda and four-stroked mu.140 She plausibly suggested that the link between Phrygia and Euboea was Aeolian Cyme; for the settlers of Aeolis were from Thessaly, Boeotia, and Euboea, as we know from both their traditions and their dialect. The inhabitants of Aeolian Cyme, like those of Campanian Cyme (Cumae), must have named their settlement after the town of Cyme on the east coast of Euboea opposite Aeolis.141 Tradition recounts that the daughter of a certain Agamemnon, king of Aeolian Cyme, married a Phrygian king called Midas.142 Although Jeffery compared the Lemnian alphabet to Phrygian,143 it must instead be adapted from an alphabet like those of Rhodes, Phocis, East Locris, the central and southern Peloponnese, or Thessaly, since these scripts use 𐌙 for kh as well as the inverted lambda and four-stroked mu. East Locris or Thessaly seem the most likely in geographical terms, but these roving Etruscans could

_____ 137 This suggestion, which I sent to Larissa Bonfante in an unpublished paper in 2005, has now been advanced independently by Eichner 2012, 14. This form of zeta is otherwise unknown, but could easily have resulted from the transformation of 𐌆 under the influence of the sloping diagonals of 𐌄 and 𐌅. 138 So Wallace 2008, 21. 139 Jeffery 1982, 833. 140 Jeffery 1979, 92. 141 Jeffery 1979, 92, and 1982, 832; cf. Powell 1991, 16. 142 Aristotle, Constitution of the Cymaeans fr. 611.37 Rose, in the epitome of Heraclides Lembus (Dilts 1971, 27). 143 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 299.

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have learned their script anywhere, perhaps even on mercenary service with Rhodians in Egypt. What is clear is that they did not learn to write in Etruria.144 Could we be sure that 𐌙 stands for kh in Phrygian script also, it would become more likely that the Phrygians derived their script from that same source (or even from Lemnian itself) rather than from Aeolis, because in Aeolic script Χ stands for kh and 𐌙 for ps; however, the value of 𐌙 in Phrygian remains obscure for now. But at least it is certain that the adoption of writing in Phrygia is not attested as early as in Latium, if the date of the inscription from Gabii holds firm, and that the Phrygian letter forms show that Phrygian script derives from that of Greece.

§5. Confusions of sibilants and the origins of the Roman alphabet The use of three-barred and four-barred sigmas alongside ‘san’ Μ,145 and the use of Χ as a sibilant of some kind in many early alphabets, have both occasioned much scholarly discussion.146 The two problems are in fact linked. Table 1 (overleaf) lists the complete abecedaria that survive from the archaic period.147 The signs 𐌔 ƨ Σ, 𐌎 , 𝈿 Μ, 𐌔 ƨ Σ, Χ and 𐌙 stand for ‘crooked iota’, xi, san at Caere versus san elsewhere, sigma with three or four bars, chi and psi respectively, according to their various positions and the sound-values of the supplemental letters. In these discussions the fate of the Phoenician sign ٣ ṣāḏē, with the sound s 148 t , has not been clearly brought out. The Greeks clearly did not know what to do with this sibilant, which was for most of them redundant. But they generally preserved it in the alphabet; indeed, I believe that the existence of a Phoenician letter that they heard as ts caused many of them to treat ks as a sound-group worthy of its own sign.149 Thus a sign resembling the three-barred sigma, viz.

_____ 144 Malzahn 1999. 145 ‘San’ is a misnomer, since, as McCarter showed (1975, 100–1, n. 88), the Canaanite lettername for šin (the origin of sigma) was šan, which was cited in Akkadian as ša; hence ‘san’ is properly another name for sigma (cf. Woodard 1997, 184–6). We do not know the Greek name for ‘san’ Μ. As Woodard rightly suggests (1997, 186), the Greeks often regarded the sign Μ as simply a rotated variant of Σ, itself rotated from Phoenician šin W. 146 E.g. Powell 1991, 46–63; Ruijgh 1995, 32–6; Woodard 1997, 147–204. 147 For completeness’ sake I include the Schøyen tablets, even though I do not believe that they are authentic. 148 For this sound-value for ṣāḏē see Powell 1990, 46; Ruijgh 1995, 32–4; Woodard 1997. 149 Pace Woodard 1997, the Cypriot syllabic signs for xa and for xe may have been devised because Ionic Greek script had a sign with the value ks, rather than vice versa.

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origin (pl. & no. in Johnston 1990) and sound-values of supplementals

sequence of alphabet (shapes shown left to right)

Schøyen tablets (Scott et al. 2005) —

αβγδεϝζͱθƨκλμν𐌎οπ٣ϙρΣτ

Eretria, shrine of Apollo (Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, no. 3)

[αβγδεϝζͱθικλμν]𐌎οπ̣[ - - - ]

Etruria, S., Caere (pl. 48, 19) 𐌔/ƨ/Σ/Χ = s, Etruria, S., Viterbo (pl. 48, 22) 𐌙 = χ Etruria, S., Formello/Veii (pl. 48, 20) Etruria, central, Marsiliana (pl. 48, 18) Etruria, N., Siena (pl. 48, 23)

αβγδεϝζͱθικλ̣ μ̣ν̣𐌎οπ𝈿⟨ϙ⟩ρΣτυΧφ𐌙 αβγδεϝζͱθικλμν𐌎οπΜϙρΣτυΧφ𐌙 αβγδεϝζͱθικλμν𐌎οπΜϙρ𐌔τυ𐌔φ𐌙 αβγδεϝζͱθικλμν𐌎οπΜϙρƨτυΧφ𐌙 αβγδεϝζͱθικλμν𐌎ο[ - - - ]

Laconian? krater (pl. 39, 66) Χ = ks, 𐌙 = χ

αβγδεϝζͱθικ[ - - - ]ϙΣτ⟨υ⟩Χ𐌙

Metapontion (pl. 50, 19) Χ = ks, 𐌙 = χ

αβγ̣δεϝζͱθ𐌔κλμνοπϙρΜτυφ𐌙ΧΧ (sic)

Messapia, Vaste (pl. 53, 15) Χ = š, 𐌙 = ?

αβγδεϝζͱθικλ̣ μνοΧϙρΜ̣𐌔τ̣ υ̣φ̣𐌙

Boeotian cup (pl. 10, 20) ΧΣ/𐌙Σ = ks, 𐌙 = χ

αβγδεϝζͱθικλμνοπρΣτυΧφ𐌙

Attica, Vari (Langdon 2005) Χ𐌔 = ks, Χ = χ

αβγδεϝζͱθικλμνοπΜϙρΣτυΧφ

Corinth, Penteskouphia (pl. 20, 16) = ks, Corinthian aryballos (pl. 74, 2–3) Χ = χ

[αβγδ]ΕϝζͱθΣκλμνοπ ϙρΜτ[ - - - ] αβγδΕϝζͱθΣκλμνοπϙρΜτυφ𐌙⁝ XB

Samos, Heraeum (pl. 79, 7)

= ks, Χ = χ

αβγδεϝζ[η]θ̣ικλμ[ν] οπϙρ𐌔τ̣ υφΧ𐌙ΩͲ

Table 1: Extant archaic alphabets showing iota, sibilants and chi.

ϟ, appears in the script of Mantinea in Arcadia, but stands for an affricate such as ts; although its place in the Arcadian abecedarium is unknown, it is surely the direct descendant of the shape ٣ and sound ts of ṣāḏē.150 In the Etruscan alphabet from Caere the sign 𝈿 stands after pi in the alphabetic series, i.e. where ṣāḏē and ‘san’ Μ belongs. The Corinthian alphabet from Penteskouphia has moved the sign , descended from samek (s), to the place of ṣāḏē (in Corinthian inscriptions has the value ks), and both Corinthian alphabets have replaced sigma with Μ. The similarity between the shape ϟ of ṣāḏē and that of three-barred sigma 𐌔 caused much confusion. The alphabet from Formello near Veii has a sign 𐌔 after hypsilon and before phi, i.e. in place of chi.151 This sign is again a form of ṣāḏē, but is placed at the end as equivalent to chi; for the alphabets of southern Etru-

_____ 150 Larfeld 1914, 218, 220–1. Jeffery 1990 [1961] 212–13 wrongly regards the Mantinean sign as an innovation. The Arcadians did not otherwise employ ‘san’ Μ, and mainly used a fourbarred rather than a three-barred sigma. 151 See Bonfante/Bonfante 2002, 132 fig. 11d. Jeffery 1990 [1961], 237, regards this as a mistaken repetition of sigma.

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ria all put chi (Χ or +) after Υ, but give it the sound-value of a sibilant (often transcribed ṡ). Similarly, on the island of Sicinus, which used an archaic ‘Cretan’ script with crooked iota 𐌔 and ‘san’ Μ, a sign which somewhat resembles three-barred sigma was used to write kh in the word 𐌊𐌄 𐌀𐌓𐌔𐌑𐌌𐌄𐌍𐌏𐌍 (i.e. κεχαρισμέ νον).152 In the script of the southern Etruscan cities of Veii, Caere and Tarquinia, Χ was used interchangeably with the signs 𐌔 and Σ for s, as opposed to the other sibilant conventionally transcribed ś, which was written with ‘san’ Μ.153 Similarly, in Messapian the sign Χ or + was used for a sibilant š. However, in the Messapian abecedarium Χ stands in the place of ṣāḏē, not in that of xi after nu (Table 1). Messapians also used sigmas with three to five bars for s; we do not know the value of ‘san’ Μ, which was not used in inscriptions and was probably a ‘dead’ letter in their abecedarium.154 The first attestation of Χ as ks may be on the foot of a krater of ca. 720 that was made in Euboea and inscribed before firing. This vessel, found at Pithekoussai in grave 168 (the same grave that yielded the ‘cup of Nestor’), bears the retrograde inscription 𐌄𐌗𐌈𐌄ʘ εξ θεο̄.155 The Lapis Niger uses + for ks in 𐌉𐌏𐌖+𐌌𐌄𐌍𐌕𐌀 iouxmenta, i.e. iumenta ‘pack animals’; the presence of Χ as ks in the Roman alphabet proves that this equivalence goes back to the beginnings of writing in Italy. The use of Χ for a sibilant in Etruscan and Latin must be connected with the sound-value of chi Χ as khs in the Euboean alphabet.156 This is often thought to have arisen from the writing of khs with 𐌗𐌔 as in Attic, Boeotian and Rhodian;157 the earliest attestation of 𐌗𐌔 as khs may be at Methone (inscription no. 22), if retrograde ℥𐌗𐌄𐌍𐌉 is a metathesis of χσενι-, i.e. ξενι-.158 But the hypothesis that Euboean Χ as khs is simplified from 𐌗𐌔 seems uneconomical, because the sound-value ks was applied to another single sign, namely xi , in other Greek alphabets. I suggest instead that the use of the sign Χ or + as ks arose from an easy confusion between the shapes of the signs ٣ ṣāḏē, i.e. ts, and + chi, which was often written as a vertical upright with a diagonal crossbar.159 The listing in

_____ 152 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 39, 322, 324 no. 27, with pl. 62 (27). 153 Bonfante/Bonfante 2002, 78; Rix 2004, 945; Wallace 2008, 21–2. 154 See A. Santoni at http://lila.sns.it/mnamon/ s.v. Messapico. 155 Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 177–8 no. 44; the next attestation is from Laconia, ca. 650–600 (Johnston 1990, 446 no. 1a). But it could be read ἐχ θεο̄ with aspiration. 156 The Greeks naturally felt an aspirate in a consonantal cluster ending with sigma, as in the Naxian spelling hσ in εhσοχος for ἔξοχος in the inscription of Nicandra (Jeffery 1990 [1961], 291, pl. 55 no. 2); see Lejeune 1972, 72. 157 Jeffery 1990 [1961] 36 with earlier references. 158 This was suggested by Johnston (this volume) and Méndez Dosuna (this volume). 159 So the abecedaria of Marsiliana, Caere, and Metapontion (see Table 1).

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the Messapian abecedarium of Χ in the place of ṣāḏē surely gives strong support to this theory. The use of Χ with the value ks in Latin, exactly as in Euboean, is a strong argument against the view that the Romans borrowed the alphabet exclusively from the southern Etruscans, who used Χ as ś. The Romans must have adopted the value ks for Χ from Eretrians in Italy, just as they maintained the Eretrian values of 𐌁, 𐌃, 𐌏, and Χ, letters which were not used in Etruscan, and just as they took over from the Eretrians the dotted omicron for ō in the inscription Σ𐌀𐌋𐌖𐌄𐌕ʘ𐌃𐌕𐌉𐌕𐌀 salvetōd Tita. Yet the Romans shared with the Etruscans their use of 𐌂 for both the voiceless velar k and the voiced g and of the digraph 𐌅𐌇 for the sound f. Thus the Vendia inscription from Rome of ca. 620–600 runs 𐌄𐌂𐌏𐌖𐌓𐌍𐌀𐌕𐌉𐌕𐌀𐌖𐌄𐌍𐌃𐌉𐌀𐌔𐌌𐌀𐌌𐌀𐌓[, i.e. ego urna Tita Vendias Mamar[,160 and the Praestine fibula has 𐌅𐌇𐌄⁝𐌅𐌇𐌀𐌊𐌄𐌃 fefaked, i.e. ‘fecit’. It is remarkable how much closer these letter forms are to Eretrian script, with five-stroked mu, than to what we normally think of as Roman script. If the Romans did obtain the alphabet from the Etruscans, as is the standard view, they must have derived the values of 𐌁, 𐌃 and 𐌏 and 𐌗 from unused ‘dead’ letters in their abecedarium.161 But an Etruscan explaining the values would surely have mispronounced these letters, and the early use of dotted omicron for ō in the inscription salvetōd Tita from Gabii is also a problem for this theory. The Sabine alphabet may also have been borrowed directly from Greek, since it uses 𐌏.162 In the alphabets of Euboea, Boeotia, Attica,163 Rome, and Etruria the original order of the supplemental letters was ΧΦ𐌙, with the values Χ = khs, 𐌙 = χ. Although it is not clear when these supplementary letters were added to the alphabet, with what values and in what order, it must have happened before ca. 750 by the traditional chronology, since 𐌙 already occurs with the value kh at Lefkandi on a Late Geometric I ostracon in the retrograde sequence αισχρ̣ι̣ [ο̄ν], i.e. Αἰσχρί ων,164 and at the sanctuary of Apollo at Eretria in the retrograde Late Geometric dipinto which I would restore [Κα]λ̣χαδεο̄ ε̄μι.165 𐌙 represents kh on the Dipylon oinochoe, while Φ appears on the cups of Nestor and Philion. Χ as kh is found on the early inscription from Corinth which Jeffery dates to ca. 700

_____ 160 Baldi 2002, 126. The S is written retrograde. 161 So Wallace 2011, 10–12. 162 Crawford 2011, i. 9–10, with further references. 163 Langdon 2005. 164 Jeffery 1979, pl. 69; Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 196. 165 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 59 no. 1, who needlessly read [Χα]λ̣ χ⟨ι⟩αδεο̄, wishing to connect the name to Chalcis. However, a derivative of κά λχη is perfectly acceptable.

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but Stillwell had dated to 750–725.166 is attested at Corinth with the soundvalue ks by ca. 675–650.167

§6. Conclusion In short, if the new chronology of the phases of the Geometric period in the Aegean is proved to be correct, the inscription from Gabii proves that the earliest form of the Greek alphabet, which already included the additional letter Υ, was created between ca. 850 and ca. 825 BCE at the very latest, with inscriptions from Gordion known by shortly after 800 BCE and from Euboea around ca. 775 by the traditional chronology. The peculiar fact that Gabii and Gordion have inscriptions that are dated earlier than those from Euboea, which lies in between, suggests that the new higher chronology of the Geometric period is likely to be correct (see §3 above), and that the Middle Geometric II texts from Eretria and Lefkandi are in fact contemporary with those inscriptions. The first phase of adaptation was the addition of hypsilon and the creation of the upright iota. The word-divider becomes three vertical dots rather than a vertical bar, to avoid confusion with the upright iota. In all other respects the letter forms were the same as the Phoenician alphabet of the time and no earlier, with the exception that two Aramaic variant forms were added, i.e. the dotted omicron and the dots for punctuation. Inscriptions were on folding writingtablets (δέ λτοι, borrowed from the Phoenician term for ‘doors’), papyrus (βύ βλος, another Phoenician term) or other perishable materials. Wether or not this earliest script was a Cretan invention, it survived only among the Cretans and their neighbours; for Crete was a very conservative island and used writing for far more limited purposes, mainly written laws, than did other regions of Greece.168 In any case, the Eretrians quickly adapted it, either in Euboea or even at Pithekoussai, and took it on early voyages between Greece and Italy, where they quickly passed it to the Latins and Etruscans. The Eretrians innovated by adding sides to the xi and extra strokes to the sigma. The addition after hypsilon of the supplemental letters phi, chi and psi happened before Late Geometric I, when these letters are first attested in inscriptions, and may well have occurred when the Eretrians first began to write; it must certainly be ascribed to them and not the Cretans, since the latter never used these letters and did not transmit them to Thera and Melos. Achaea and Corinth were other

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166 Jeffery 1990 [1961], pl. 18 nos. 1a–b; cf. Powell 1991, 132–3. 167 Jeffery 1990 [1961], 115 with pl. 18 no. 4. 168 Ruijgh 1995, 43 n. 152.

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early adopters, as was Rhodes; all three are on major sea-routes. The Etruscans who settled on Lemnos may have adapted the script of Rhodes. In turn, the Chalcidians borrowed Eretrian script (with a four-stroked mu). The Phrygians borrowed it from them, possibly via Aeolis, by ca. 800 BCE or soon after.

§7. Epilogue: the alphabet and early Greek poetry The existence at Methone of pots of local manufacture with alphabetic inscriptions does not show that Methone was one of the places where the alphabet was first used,169 since Greek script seems already to have been about a century old before Methone was founded in 734/3 BCE. However, because of the cup of Hakesandros from Methone we can affirm with increased confidence the lesson of the Late Geometric Ib Dipylon oinochoe, the Late Geometric II cup of Nestor, and the similar retrograde three-line verse-inscription on the cup from Eretria, namely that alphabetic writing was being used to record poetry at celebrations and symposia by Late Geometric Ib, for which the traditional date is 750–735 BCE (as we have seen, this date may well need to be raised). This inscription eloquently attests (in case evidence were needed) that forms of oral poetry other than the hexameter epos, in this case iambic verse, go back to the eighth century. Euboean script was better adapted to this purpose than any previous writing, including the Cypriot syllabary, which did not mark aspirated stops. It is odd how unpopular it has become to draw from the discovery of inscriptions like the cup of Nestor what seems the obvious corollary, namely that, by this time, alphabetic writing could be used to record poetry on more serious occasions and at far greater length. Perhaps the Museum at Lacco Ameno, ancient Pithekoussai, is simply so remote from the usual itineraries of most scholars of early Greek epic that their sensibilities are lulled into doubting the reality of that very tangible and datable object, whose existence anyone can verify by taking the ferry from Naples to Ischia. The cup of Nestor reveals a practiced style of writing, with dots to mark off the separate phrases. Although no punctuation is seen on the cup of Hakesandros or the cup with retrograde hexameters from Eretria, the sophistication of the writing is very similar, as is the uniformly retrograde direction of the script.

_____ 169 Methone Pierias I, 235, 553–4.

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Jeffery is right that the earliest Greek inscriptions were written boustrophedon, but with the first line of each paragraph always running from right to left.170 On the cup of Nestor and that from Eretria each line of verse is regarded as a separate beginning, and would therefore start on the right; and we can assume that any early recording of Greek verse would have followed the same principle rather than be written boustrophedon, whether verse by verse, as in West’s reconstruction of Hesiod’s autograph text,171 or continuously, as in that of Homer’s original text by Powell.172 The cup of Hakesandros is another shining proof that verse was being written down by 735 BCE at the latest. Burkert173 advanced the celebrated argument, which its own author later retracted,174 that Iliad 9. 382–4 refers to the prosperity of Egyptian Thebes under the Twenty-fifth Dynasty (715–663) and to the display of wealth taken from it when it was sacked in 663. Even if this were correct,175 it could never prove the entire poem to be so late, since these lines have the form of an addition: line 381, οὐδ’ ὅσ’ ἐς Ὀρχομενὸν ποτινί σεται, οὐδ’ ὅσα Θή βας, must originally have referred to the wealth of the greatest Boeotian cities of the Mycenaean world, while Αἰγυπτίας etc. in line 382 is in adding-style and changes the referent of ‘Thebes’. Since the statistical evidence from the language of the hexametric epos shows that the Iliad is the oldest Greek poem we have, consistently antedating the works of Hesiod by a considerable margin,176 why should the Iliad itself not have been recorded in writing well before the end of the eighth century?177

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170 Jeffery 1990 [1961] 43–6, 311 (on ‘Cretan paragraphing’). 171 West 1978, 60. 172 Powell 1991, 65 fig. 7. 173 Burkert 1976, 5–21. The argument is still cited by West 2012, 236. 174 Personal communication cited in Lane Fox 2008, 446 n. 35. 175 But see Lane Fox 2008, 446 n. 35. 176 Janko 2012, 28 with fig. 1.3, rebutting critiques of Janko 1982 (further statistics appeared in Janko 1992, 14 n. 19). I am surprised by the objections of Olsen (2012, 12–15), who considers the well-known difficulties in dating the Hymn to Aphrodite, with its text of only 293 lines providing a sample-size that is rather inadequate for statistical analysis, sufficient grounds to reject the comparative dating of the Homeric epics versus the two major poems of Hesiod, where the sample-sizes (‘populations’ in statistical terms) are far greater. If there is no genuine ‘cluster’ of linguistic results in its diction, the Hymn is simply the earliest case of ‘false archaizing’, viz. composition by a poet who learned from texts (possibly of the Homeric and Hesiodic epics as we have them) that were fixed at an earlier stage of the tradition, i.e. in writing. The much better discussion by Faulkner (2008, 23–47) rightly notes the frequency with which the poet modifies formulae in a post-Homeric manner and the likelihood that he knew our texts of Homer and Hesiod; he not implausibly assigns the poet to the later seventh century. 177 In support of the eighth century dating of Homer see Powell (1991, 187–220) and Lane Fox (2008, 381–4), who dates the poems to ca. 760–740; for counter-arguments see West 2012. Ruijgh’s date for Homer of prior to 800 (1995, 21–4) still seems too high, however.

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The new evidence from Methone makes it all the more likely that Euboeans played a significant role in the recording and diffusion of Homeric poetry. The theory of a Euboean contribution to the Homeric epics goes back to Wathelet,178 who observed that the restoration (most of the time) of the aspirate in Homer and the presence of isolated forms like ξέ νιος instead of ξεί νιος and ὄνταϲ instead of ἐό νταϲ is no less explicable if these features are West Ionic than if they are Attic. There are only three such forms in the Iliad, namely μονωθεί ϲ179 and the subjunctives ἦϲι and ὦϲι.180 However, the Odyssey, although it is shorter, contains thirteen examples, broadly distributed among ἦϲι and ὦϲι,181 ὄνταϲ and οὔϲηϲ,182 and forms of the adjective ξέ νιος.183 The Odyssey is known from statistical analyses of its language, and indeed from how it avoids reduplicating the events of the Iliad, to postdate the latter (but according to the statistics it can still be by the same poet, as indeed it is, in my judgement), since the Iliad and the Odyssey differ from each other less than do Hesiod’s Theogony and Works and Days, which are definitely by a single poet. It may accord with this that the Euboean forms are so much more common in the Odyssey. Even so, the most recent stratum of Homeric diction remains East Ionic; there is only a thin scatter of Euboean forms.184 Such forms are hardly attested in Hesiod.185 As Ruijgh supposed,186 Homer probably acquired such Euboean forms from visits to the wealthy towns of Euboea; he would have gone via Delos, to which he refers in the Odyssey.187 Grandees of Eretria or Chalcis could well have played a crucial role in the writing down of one or both epics, supplying resources like copious rolls of papyrus from their trading-partners in Byblos and indeed an amanuensis well skilled in taking dictation in the new art of writing.188 I doubt whether the pioneers at outposts like Methone had the leisure or resources to

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178 Wathelet 1981. 179 Il. 11. 470. 180 Il. 19. 202 and 14. 274. 181 Od. 8. 147, 162, 580 and Od. 24. 491 respectively. 182 Od. 7. 94 and 19. 489 respectively. 183 Od. 14. 158, 14. 389, 15. 284, 15. 546, 17. 155, 24. 286 and 24. 314. 184 West (1988) went further, in arguing that Homer also owed to Euboean dialect such forms as πῶϲ rather than the κῶϲ of East Ionic literature, which are of course found throughout the epos rather than as occasional variants. However, we know from Herodotus 1. 142 that there were dialectal distinctions in East Ionic for which we have no inscriptional evidence, and we cannot exclude that πῶϲ etc. were normal in considerable parts of East Ionia; indeed, forms in kappa like κῶϲ are hardly ever found in East Ionic inscriptions (Buck, C.D. 1955, 63). 185 οὖϲαν is in Hes. fr. 204.91. 186 Ruijgh 1995, 46–50; 2011, 295. 187 Od. 6. 162–4. 188 For dictation as the only possible means of recording the poems cf. Parry 1971, 451.

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record such epics; but Pithekoussai was conceivably such a large and important place in the eighth century that epics could have been recorded there. Indeed, Iliad 2. 783 probably refers to Pithekoussai when it locates the battle between Zeus and Typhoeus at Arimoi: Strabo reports that some scholars located the combat there, since the Etruscans call apes ἄριμοι.189 The name Πιθηκοῦσσαι refers to monkeys (πί θηκοι); evidently the Greeks found monkeys on the island when they arrived, just as there are still monkeys on Gibraltar. Likewise the monkeys depicted on Minoan frescoes could well have survived on Crete well into the Bronze Age. However, in the Phaeacian episode King Alcinous refers to Euboea as the most distant place to which his people have gone, which would be a good joke if the poem was performed there.190 The centrality of the Euripus to Greek navigation at this time is supported by the fact that the catalogue of ships in the Iliad begins at Aulis, not to mention the borrowing of the term Graeci into Latin to denote the Greeks, when the Γραικοί were originally the inhabitants of the small town of Graea near Aulis.191 Hesiod too perfected his epic diction by attending performances at Chalcis, as he tells us himself.192 The Homeric poems belong in the heyday of Euboean wealth and exploration,193 before the decline that both Chalcis and Eretria suffered during and after the Lelantine War, which should be dated to no earlier than 700.194 The survival at Iliad 7. 238 of the inherited accusative singular βῶν ‘oxhide (shield)’, like Sanskrit gām, instead of βοῦν has seemed to prove that a script with omega Ω was used to record the Iliad, since the word has apparently been normalized to βοῦν everywhere else in Homer.195 Since the letter Ω may go back

_____ 189 Strabo 13.4.6; cf. Lane Fox 2008, 316, 335. 190 Od. 7. 319–24: ὄφρ’ ἂν ἵκηαι πατρί δα σὴν καὶ δῶμα, καὶ εἴ πού τοι φί λον ἐστίν, εἴ περ καὶ μά λα πολλὸν ἑκαστέ ρω ἔστ’ Εὐβοί ης· τὴν γὰρ τηλοτά τω φά σ’ ἔμμεναι οἵ μιν ἴδοντο λαῶν ἡμετέ ρων, ὅτε τε ξανθὸν Ῥαδά μανθυν ἦγον ἐποψό μενον Τιτυό ν, Γαιή ϊον υἱό ν. The myth that the Phaeacians took Rhadamanthys to see Tityus, who was from central Greece, is otherwise unknown; Hainsworth in his n. ad loc. suggested that Rhadamanthys would have disembarked at Aulis opposite Euboea. 191 So first Busolt 1893–1904, i. 14. 192 Op. 650–60. 193 Cf. Tandy 2000, 66–72. 194 In his very thorough and careful study, Parker (1997, 167) shows that the war did occur, dates it from ca. 700 to ca. 650 and argues that it was of a very lengthy duration. 195 Wackernagel 1916, 12–13; Janko 1992, 35. Simonides still used βῶν (Phot. Lex. β 42 Theodoridis).

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no further than ca. 650, when that letter finally appears on Samos,196 one could argue that, contrary to my belief, an eighth-century text of Homer could never have existed. However, it now appears, as we saw in §2 above, that some of the earliest Cretan, Euboean and Latin inscriptions used a dotted omicron to distinguish long ō from ŏ; so an eighth-century Euboean text of the Iliad could already have transcribed βῶν as 𐌁ʘ𐌍, with a dotted omicron marking the long vowel. However this may be, Homer’s epics could certainly not have been recorded in their present form without the use of alphabetic writing such as has now been found at Methone.

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196 Johnston 1990, 428.

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Francesca Dell’Oro

Alphabets and Dialects in the Euboean Colonies of Sicily and Magna Graecia or What Could Have Happened in Methone* Francesca Dell’Oro Alphabets and Dialects in the Euboean Colonies of Sicily and Magna Graecia

Abstract: It goes almost without saying that linguistic evidence found in a specific place does not have to belong to the language or dialect mainly spoken there. Linguistic contact is possible at any time. Greek colonies provide a privileged viewpoint from which to regard this issue. In this paper, four cases are discussed on the basis of the dialectal material found in the Euboean colonies of Sicily and Magna Graecia: 1) features that can be ascribed to the originally mixed character of the colony’s population already at the time of the colonial enterprise; 2) features related to the presence of foreigners in the colony who arrived after its foundation, from faraway lands, or 3) from nearby regions, as in the case of the influence from other Greek colonial settlements or even from non-Greek settlements. A fourth possible case regards people coming from the mother-town at a later time after the foundation of the colony and bringing with them non-colonial features of the same alphabet and/or dialect.

The geography of alphabets and dialects One of the most thought-provoking questions contained in the 2012 book Methone Pierias I by M. Bessios, Y.Z. Tzifopoulos and A. Kotsonas, is the one concerning what alphabets and dialects it is possible to encounter in a (Euboean) colony like Methone. On the one hand, the alphabet and the dialect of the mother city are expected to have also been in use in its colonies. On the other hand, numerous factors of a different nature –from the transportability of the objects to the different origins of the people in the colonial expedition– make finding other alphabets and dialects possible. Moreover, given the distance between the colony and its metropolis, and therefore the different situations of (language) contact and variation, one should also take into account that both the alphabet and dialect could have undergone different changes in the colony and in the mother city.

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* I wish to thank Alan Johnston, Irad Malkin, and Roger Woodard for their thoughtful criticism and observations after my presentation in Thessaloniki. I wish also to thank Irad Malkin for having read a previous version of this paper. My contribution greatly benefited from his observations.

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It is, therefore, perfectly legitimate, and sometimes necessary, to speak of “colonial” and “non-colonial” Euboean features or varieties as well as to admit the presence of “non-Euboean” elements in a Euboean colony. The approach adopted by Tzifopoulos in his book, even though the material from Methone has yielded scanty results about the presence of non-Euboean elements1, is very interesting and stimulating to the extent that it overturns a methodology frequently used: that of reading and interpreting inscriptions2 with the implicit or explicit expectation to find –with the exception of the panhellenic sanctuaries– the alphabet and the dialect which correspond geographically to the region where the inscriptions were found. It has to be admitted that this method usually works well. There is, however, something that remains in a sense unacknowledged. Considering “Euboean” the linguistic evidence found in a “Euboean” place, the linguist tends to neglect, on the one hand, the complexity of a linguistic community, which is based on allogeneous elements; on the other hand, to interpret and sometimes over-interpret the data from a Euboean perspective. The main aim of this paper is to begin to answer the question of what remains unacknowledged. It will deal, therefore, with the problems of detecting and interpreting the possible presence of non-Euboean elements in the Euboean colonies of Sicily and Magna Graecia. Although the material is relatively scanty and not unproblematic, there is enough evidence to deal with the following aspects: the original mixed character of the population of the colony; the presence of foreigners; the relation(s) with the mother city; the relation(s) with other non-Euboean settlements.

Cycladic Naxians in Sicilian Naxos The Cycladic Naxian element seems to have played a not negligible role in shaping some aspects of the early cultural and institutional life of the Euboean colony of Sicilian Naxos.3 Even though only Hellanicus explicitly attests to the presence of Cycladic Naxians among the settlers and therefore already present at the moment of the foundation of Naxos (FGrH 4 F 82: Θεοκλῆς ἐκ Χαλκίδος

_____ 1 Cf., e.g., the contributions by Méndez Dosuna and Panayotou in this volume. 2 With the term “inscription” in this paper I refer to any kind of written evidence (with the exclusion of papyri) that has come to us from ancient times. 3 Naxos is considered the first Greek colony in Sicily. We know from Thucydides (6.3.1) that it was founded by Chalcidians guided by the oecist Theocles one year before the foundation of Syracuse (traditionally 735/734 BCE).

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μετὰ Χαλκιδέων καὶ Ναξίων ἐν Σικελίηι πόλιν ἔκτισε),4 ties with Cycladic Naxos are borne out by different kinds of evidence. The coin types with the head of Dionysos immediately recall the ones minted on Cycladic Naxos. Additionally, some inscriptional material shows the use of the Cycladic Naxian alphabet still roughly a century after the foundation of the colony5 and it was also suggested that the characteristic to offer plain hydriai in graves could be reconnected to a practice known from Aegean Naxos.6 The name itself of the first Greek apoikia in Sicily, Naxos can be considered as evidence for the influence of a Cycladic Naxian element.7 Coin legends, as official representation of the state, give us a clear picture of the fact that Sicilian Naxians self-consciously represented themselves as Euboeans. They began to mint coins in the second half of the 6th century BCE. The coinage was based on the Chalcidian-Euboean standard and the legends were written in the Euboean alphabet. Until the seizing of the town by Hippocrates (493 BCE), the coin legend was ΝΑΧΙΟΝ (Ναξίōν, with the “red” chi rendering the phonetic value /ksi/ as usual in the Euboean alphabet).8 When the Naxians started to mint again (461 BCE), the legends continued to be written in the Euboean alphabet (ΝΑΧΙΟΝ or just ΝΑΧΙ).9 In 430 BCE the common alphabet appears: the legends read not only ΝΑΧΙΟΝ, but also for the first time ΝΑΞΙΟΝ (Ναξίōν) and then ΝΑΞΙΩΝ (Ναξίων).10

_____ 4 Ephorus (FGrH 70 F 137) mentions Ionians together with Chalcidians and Megarians in relation to the foundation of the colonies of Naxos and Megara in Sicily. The literary sources on the history of Sicilian Naxos have been collected by Cordano 1984–1985. 5 There is general agreement about the fact that at least the similarity between the coin types and the lettering of the Enyó inscription (below) could support the hypothesis that some of the settlers came from Cycladic Naxos (cf., e.g., Fischer-Hansen et al. 2004a, 218). 6 Coldstream 2004. This paper is of great interest also for the question debated here inasmuch as the author tackles issues related to continuity in the relationship between motherland and colony, on the one hand, and the “general colonial way of doing things, spreading by osmosis throughout Magna Graecia” (48), on the other. 7 The Naxians chose the name of the town, while the Chalcidians chose the metropolis, exactly as happened when Cyme was founded in South Italy (Leschhorn 1984, 9, cf. the story by Strabo 5.4.4, according to whom the colony was founded by Hippocles from Cyme and Megasthenes from Chalcis. They decided to give the colony the name of Cyme in honour of the motherland of Hippocles but to consider it a Chalcidian colony). 8 These coins carried on the obverse the head of Dionysos and on the reverse a bunch of grapes. 9 A new tetradrachm on the Syracusan-Attic standard bore on the obverse the head of Dionysos, while the reverse carried a squatting Silenos. 10 The evolution of the coin legends can be followed, e.g., on the tables 1 to 4 in Franke/ Hirmer 19722, 35–37.

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As regards other inscribed material, the identification of the Cycladic Naxian alphabet is mostly based upon the presence of a sign in the shape of an empty rectangle (), which was used in the Aegean Naxian alphabet as a variant to note aspiration.11 In Naxos of Sicily it appears in a dedication to the goddess Enyó written on a small marble cippus, which was found in a sacred area, and dated to the end of the 7th century BCE (fig. 1a, b).12 Dell'Oro_1a/b

Fig. 1a and b: Marble cippus with inscription from Naxos of Sicily. After Arena 1994, pl. 14a and b.

Allegedly,13 the sign also appears in two graffiti on fragments (figs. 2 and 3) of locally produced vases, dated respectively to the second half of the 7th century (Manni Piraino 1987, no. 7) and to the end of the same century (Manni Piraino 1987, no. 2). Judging from the photographs and drawings Manni Piraino published, in the first case (no. 7) the presence of this peculiar letter shape is not certain, and in the second one (no. 2), its phonetic value is not at all clear.

_____ 11 Guarducci 1985, 19–24, 33f., Jeffery (Johnston) 1989, 455. 12 Ed. pr. Guarducci 1985: Λύραqος / hῦρος / Ἐνhυο̣ [ῖ]. In the second line of the inscription, ΗΥΡΟΣ has been read since the first edition of the cippus. Guarducci (1985, 22) interpreted this form as an ethnic and connected it with the toponym Ὑρία. 13 E.g., Brugnone 2009, 708.

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Dell'Oro_2a/b

Fig. 2a and b: Graffito on a fragment of vase produced in Naxos of Sicily. After Manni Piraino 1987, 32, no. 7 and pl. 4.7.

Dell’Oro_3a/b

Fig. 3a and b: Graffito on a fragment of vase produced in Naxos of Sicily. After Manni Piraino 1987, 29, no. 2 and pl. 3.2.

In the case of no. 7, the reading is particularly doubtful because only the right lower part of the letter is visible, and it is not impossible that there was a stroke inside the rectangle. Therefore, the graffito could have been entirely written using the Euboean alphabet.14 In the other case (no. 2), the alphabetic value of the letter, whose shape is only partially preserved, is uncertain because the letter remains isolated. This being the case, even though the second graffito could at-

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14 According to Manni Piraino, the alphabet of the graffito would be mixed: “la terza (sc. lettera) un chiaro rho di tipo euboico.”

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test to the rectangle letter shape, only the Enyó inscription attests to the use of the Naxian letter shape in a text in which it is possible to give it a phonetic value. With regard to the presence of a Naxian alphabet in Naxos of Sicily, nothing more is known. Contemporary or later inscriptions show the Euboean or the common alphabet.15 Given the present state of our knowledge, many questions about the (at least chronologically) parallel use of the Euboean and the Cycladic Naxian alphabet have to remain open. There is evidence of a Cycladic Naxian influence in different aspects of the early life of Naxos of Sicily, and it could well be that ancient settlers kept and transmitted their own alphabet and dialect. It would be interesting to know in which contexts the Cycladic Naxian alphabet (and dialect) was used, as well as to know how long this usage lasted. Even though the evidence is scanty, the Cycladic Naxian alphabet should be considered as a “local script” in Naxos of Sicily. All in all, there are good reasons to think that the Cycladic Naxian element, directly or indirectly, contributed to shaping the early cultural life of the first Greek colony of Sicily. Before dealing with other cases of the simultaneous presence of different alphabets and dialects in the same colony, one of the hypotheses suggested to interpret the Enyó inscription deserves some attention in the context of the present investigation. One of the leading authorities on the subject of Greek dialects in Sicily and Magna Graecia proposed interpreting it as a horos inscription. According to this hypothesis, ΗΥΡΟΣ in the second line would be the local correspondent to the word ὅρος “boundary, landmark” and should be read hῦρος “con l’indicazione della vocale lunga di compenso, che in area ionica appare per lo più come una o lunga chiusa, mediante υ, come del resto accade a Reggio, dove -υ, terminazione di genitivo singolare dei temi in -o, rappresenta la continuazione di antico ọ̄ , risultato di contrazione” (Arena 1994, 156).16 At least two of the possible consequences of such a hypothesis need to be discussed: (1) the collocation of a boundary stone in a sacred area could point to some official role played by the Cycladic Naxian element in the dynamics of the sanctuary if the inscription is not merely a private one; (2) since in Sicily and Magna Graecia writing where one would expect a long close [o:] points to the Euboean colonies,17 there would be an interesting mixture of Cycladic and

_____ 15 For an overview of the attestations of the alphabets of Sicilian Naxos, cf. Brugnone 2009, 707–709. 16 Cf. also IGASMG III, no. 72. 17 Cf. IGASMG III, no. 72: “con l’indicazione di o lungo chiuso stretto mediante u come altrove nelle colonie euboiche di Magna Grecia.” More precisely, all the available evidence comes from 5th century Rhegium or its area. Cf. Ῥε̄γίνυ (IGASMG III, no. 59) and Λυκίσκυ (D’Amore 2007, no. 69, Pontecagnano). Γλαυκίυ (IGASMG III, no. 63, 1, Castellace (Oppido Mamertina)) and

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Euboean elements in the inscription. In fact, the inscription would have been written in the Cycladic Naxian alphabet () and dialect (hῦρος cannot be Euboean as the Euboean dialect did not know the third compensatory lengthening), but it would contain a graphic phenomenon of Euboean origin.18 Because of the paucity of the material attesting to the use of the Cycladic Naxian alphabet in Naxos of Sicily, it is not possible to bring arguments pro or con to Arena’s hypothesis on the basis of the local practice. There is more than one argument against the hypothesis of a horos inscription: (1) the word would occupy an unusual position in the text of the inscription as the word ὅρος usually appears at the very beginning of an inscription;19 (2) the name of the divinity who should protect the horos usually appears in the genitive, while in the inscription it appears in the dative; (3) the West Euboean practice of writing for the etymological long close [o:] is a possibility, not a rule. Indeed, there are examples in which the distribution of and is not clear.20 Even supposing that the stoneworker had been Euboean and had made an error, the word horos would have – probably – been pronounced [horos] and not [ho:ros/ hu:ros] by a Euboean as the first vowel was short in the Euboean dialect. To sum up, the hypothesis of a horos inscription does not seem very likely, neither from a linguistic nor from an epigraphic point of view.21 What remains certain is an ancient presence of the Cycladic Naxian element in Naxos of Sicily22. With the actual state of our knowledge, this presence cannot be said to go beyond a private use of the Naxian alphabet (and dialect, for which there is no evidence). What seems most striking about the Enyó inscription is that the non-Euboean people still used their own alphabet, at least for private purposes, one century after the common foundation of the colony of Naxos. It should be remembered that this is only one of the possible ways to interpret the Enyó inscription and that the presence of someone coming directly

_____ Ἐμμενίδευ (IGASMG III, no. 63, 2) are more problematic. I will offer a thorough discussion of the phenomenon in the new description of the Euboean dialect I am preparing. 18 In Euboean the letter indicates a very closed pronunciation of the vowel. 19 Cf. the examples of horos inscriptions presented by Guarducci in her seminal book Epigrafia greca: Guarducci 1969, (vol. 2) 430–443, 1974 (vol. 3) 227–245, 1978 (vol. 4), 46–73. Cf. also the selection of horoi presented by Thalheim 1913, 2414–2416. 20 Cf., e.g., D’Amore 2007, no. 29: Ἴκο̄ (Rhegium). 21 For a new reading suggested by Manganaro, see IGDS I, no. 2. 22 I do not treat here the question of the identity (Delian or Delphic) of the Apollo Archegetes that would be another issue about the ties between Cycladic Naxians and Sicilian Naxians. The question is much debated, cf. Malkin 1986.

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from Cycladic Naxos is also a possibility.23 This leads us to take into consideration of the next cases, which deal with the presence of foreigners.

Corinthian presence in Cyme and on the “Chalcidian” vases The letter eta in the form of an empty rectangle also appears in two partial abecedaria engraved on the base of an Early Proto-Geometric lekythos of local manufacture,24 dated between 720 and 690 BCE25 and found in Cyme, another Euboean colony (figs. 4a, b): αβγδεϝhζ|ζhϝδγβ (Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 201, no. C 2, inscription b)26 → ←27 Dell’Oro_4a/b

Fig. 4a and b: Two partial abecedaria on a lekythos from Cyme. After IGASMG III, pl. 40, no. 1 and pl. 114.

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23 On this problem, cf. also Lentini 2004. 24 This lekythos, as well as other Early Proto-Geometric imitations, was manufactured by Corinthian potters, who were likely active in Cyme (Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 203; cf. also Cassio 1991–1993, 187 with n. 6). 25 Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 201–202. 26 Buchner suggests another reading of the second abecedarium: ← ζδϝhρβ (Bartoněk/ Buchner 1995, 231). On the base of the same lekythos, a different and more skilled hand wrote another graffito, whose difficult interpretation does not concern us here. Cf. Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 201 for relevant bibliography. 27 As noted by Buchner (1995, 203), the graffito is boustrophedon. In any case, in the first abecedarium gamma was written in a direction opposite to that of the other letters.

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One abecedarium is thought to be Euboean (the upper one), the other to be a copy of the first one. It seems that this copy started where the Euboean one finished and that the writer was trying to copy it from the last letter, zeta, to the first one, alpha. But for some reason, the copy was not finished; the writer stopped after what could be a Corinthian beta. Cassio (1991–1993, 188–189) suggests, convincingly, that one should interpret the two partial abecedaria as an attempt of a Corinthian to write the beginning of an Euboean abecedarium (from alpha to zeta) and then to come back to alpha starting from where he stopped, i.e., the letter zeta. When the writer arrived at beta, he betrayed his origin by writing beta in the Corinthian shape and, for this reason, he stopped writing. Indeed, the second partial abecedarium seems to have been written with less accuracy:28 the writer forgot to write epsilon, delta has a rectangular shape, and gamma also appears in a shape different from that of the first abecedarium29. Another element which could point to a Corinthian origin of the writer is the order of the letters, with eta preceding zeta in both abecedaria, as also appears in a Corinthian abecedarium from Corinth.30 Apart from the divergences in the interpretation of the context in which the two abecedaria were written,31 the abecedaria on the lekythos from Cyme show that a single person – the hand is the same – was trying to master two alphabets or, at least, a second one, different from the alphabet he was most acquainted with. Indeed, alphabets could be learnt, and the two partial abecedaria from Cyme also shows that foreign alphabets were actively learnt. In particular, this example of interaction between the Euboean and the Corinthian alphabets confronts us with the possibility of people learning a “foreign” alphabet for the needs of their own work (here a Corinthian learning the local Euboean alphabet). In the case of the lekythos from Cyme, this has to remain a hypothesis. There is another case of a person writing an alphabet different from his own and leaving more than one trace of this practice. This person is known to us as the Inscription Painter, the main exponent of the potters who manufactured and painted the so called “Chalcidian” vases. These vases are called “Chalcidian” because of their alphabet, but most of them were not found in Euboean colonies.

_____ 28 Has this perhaps something to do with the difficulty of writing boustrophedon? 29 This time the letter appears in the “correct” direction. Cf. footnote 27. 30 The reference to the Corinthian abecedarium appears for the first time in Cassio 1991–1993, 189. It was published in Boegehold 1992, 411. 31 E.g., according to Buchner the potter wanted to teach his son how to write beta in the Corinthian shape (Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, 203). I prefer the interpretation suggested by Cassio as it better explains why the writer did not finish writing the alphabet.

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According to the reconstruction suggested by R. Wachter (2001, 270–273), the Inscription Painter was an immigrant from Corinth who settled and worked in one of the Western Euboean colonies.32 His non-Ionian origin is betrayed by his inconsistency in writing names such as Γᾱρυϝόνε̄ ς (CHA 2c, fig. 5), which shows a mixing of non-Ionian long [a:] and Ionian long [ε:]. On the same vase, the Ionic form Ἀθε̄ ναίε̄ (CHA 2a) appears, whereas on another vase the Inscription Painter wrote Γε̄ ρυόνε̄ ς (CHA 9c, fig. 6). Some inconsistency also appears in the alphabet. The Inscription Painter uses the Euboean alphabet, but once he writes the name Τύχι̣ [ο]ς̣ with [ch] rendered by the cross-shaped sign (CHA 3c, fig. 7). These inconsistencies could be considered as proof of a non-Ionian origin of the Inscription Painter. Dell’Oro_05

Fig. 5: Name inscribed on an amphora from Vulci. After NAGVI, CHA 2a. Dell’Oro_06

Fig. 6: Name inscribed on an amphora from Caere. After NAGVI, CHA 9c.

Dell’Oro_07

Fig. 7: Name inscribed on an amphora from Vulci. After NAGVI, CHA 3c.

_____ 32 “The most likely biography of the Inscription P. (and maybe of his colleague, the Cambridge P.) will therefore include an origin in declining Corinth, a stay in rising Athens, and a final settling-down in a Euboean-Ionian centre” (Wachter 2001, 273).

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Although it is true that the “Chalcidian” vases occupy a particular position in our attestations of the Euboean dialect and script (even though they were usually not found in Euboean colonies), inscriptions such as that of the abecedaria from Cyme and those by the Inscription Painter offer a privileged vantage from which one can observe the interaction between Euboean and Corinthian dialects and alphabets. After having considered the case of an allogeneous presence in the Euboean colonies, another possibility to be considered is that of the presence of elements coming from the mother city many decades after the foundation of the colony.

Euboean rhotacism on a clay ball from Rhegium? Theoretically at least, Greek people could have come to the Western colonies from all over Greece. It is likely, or at least possible, that Euboeans also continued to come from Greece after the foundation of their colonies and that they remained somehow connected with their colonies.33 This could also be attested – directly or indirectly – by an inscription from Rhegium. What I am referring to is a clay ball (fig. 8) which has been variously dated to the 5th century BCE (IGASMG III, no. 63, 3, IGDGG no. 39c). This ball bears an Ionian name Δημοφάνης accompanied by the patronym Θράρυος (Δημφάνης Θράρυος). It is generally accepted, with slight differences on individual points, that these kinds of objects34 had a civic function and that they were likely used as sortes.35 The form Θράρυος, which is the genitive of the proper name Θράσυς, appears here with rhotacism. As far as I know, this is the only attestation of Euboean rhotacism in the Euboean Western colonies. Dell’Oro_08

Fig. 8: Inscribed clay ball from Rhegium. After IGASMG III, no. 63.

_____ 33 On the relationship between colony and mother city, cf., e.g., Graham 1964. 34 Other clay balls found in Sicily are inscribed not only, as in Rhegium, with a proper name and the patronym, but also with the indication of the phratra or the phyle. 35 Cf. Lazzarini 1991; Cordano 2001.

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Rhotacism seems not to be an ancient phenomenon in Euboea,36 and it is certainly later than the foundation of Rhegium in the second half of the 8th century BCE. Therefore, it is not possible to explain its presence in the colony as the continuation of a feature brought by the first Euboean settlers. This means that Thrarus was from Euboea and that either he or perhaps only his son, Demophanes, came to Rhegium from Euboea. If the clay balls had a civic function, Demophanes has to be considered a citizen of Rhegium.37 He came to the Western colony as an immigrant or as the son of an immigrant, Thrarus, who brought with him an unmistakable feature of his mother city . There is a second possibility that needs to be taken into consideration, even though it is less fascinating. It should be noted that there are inaccuracies in the writing of the proper name Δημοφά νης, such as the missing omicron between mu and phi or nu written at the end of the name instead of sigma. This fact makes it uncertain whether the proper name of the father was written accurately. It could be that the writer inverted the order of alpha and rho and that ΘΡΑΡΥΟΣ has been written for ΘΑΡΡΥΟΣ, i.e., the genitive of the name Θάρρυς.38 Θάρσυς > Θάρρυς would be coherent with what we know of the Euboean dialect.39

A lead tablet from Himera In all previous cases we have dealt with an allogeneous presence from Greece (Cycladic Naxos, Corinth, Euboea) in a Western Euboean colony. However, the most common case of this kind of presence should have been that of Greek, or even non-Greek people, coming from settlements near to the colony. Keeping this in mind, I will try to support the new reading of an inscription from Himera.

_____ 36 Cf., e.g., del Barrio 1991, 24–26. 37 I think that this scenario is more problematic than previously thought. Rhegium is said to have been founded by Chalcis (cf., e.g., Fischer-Hansen et al. 2004b, 290), but as there is no good and ancient evidence for rhotacism in Chalcis, del Barrio considers Thrarus as an Eretrian (del Barrio 1991, 25). I am not sure that this solution is compatible with the hypothesis that Demophanes was a citizen of Rhegium. For the problem of his citizenship, cf., e.g., Werner 1971. For similar problems (in Athens), cf. Wachter 2010, 55. 38 This form of the proper name would fit what is known of the Euboean dialect, i.e., that -ρσ- > -ρρ-. 39 Cf., e.g., del Barrio 1991, 26–27.

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A lead tablet from the second half of the 6th century BCE40 (fig. 9) is widely considered to bear one of the most ancient attestations of the red alphabet in Himera (e.g., Brugnone 1995, 1303). Dell’Oro_09

Fig. 9: Inscribed lead tablet from Himera. After IGASMG III, pl. 15, no. 1.

The tablet carries the inscription ΣΙΧΑΣ, which is usually read as Σίξας (e.g., Manni Piraino 1974: 270–271, 1976: 696, no. 238, IGDS I, no. 6 (but as Σίχας in IGDS II, no. 9241), IGASMG III, no. 50). This assumption is justified by the fact that Himera is a Euboean colony, and one automatically expects to find the “red” alphabet. The form Σίξας could be explained as a Doric proper name derived from the aorist of the verb σίζω “hiss”42 and it would then belong to the narrow typology of the proper names built on an aorist participle.43 In this way, even though the proper name is explicable as a Greek name, I think that the question is open as to whether it would not be better to read the inscription ΣΙΧΑΣ as Σίχας and to accept both hypotheses: that the name could be of non-Greek origin and that it was not written in the Euboean alphabet. Despite attempts to read Σίχας on the basis of some recent discoveries (e.g., Manganaro 2003A, 8)

_____ 40 This date is based on palaeographic evidence and, in particular, on the assumption that the inscription was written in a red alphabet. 41 Cf. also Dubois 2011, 21. 42 As far as I know, there are only two possible attestations of the aorist: in Ar. V. 704 (Wilson) the form ἐπισίξῃ is a variant for the present ἐπισίζῃ (cf. also Wilson 2007, 88–89), while the form σίξα, which appears in Theocr. Id. 6, 29 (Gow), is a conjecture (cf. Gow 1950, 124). 43 Cf. Masson (1982), who gives the following examples: Ἀρκέσας, Ὀνάσας/Ὀνήσας, [Α]ὐξήσας, Ἡβήσας, Λαπίσας, Ὀνομάσας, Σιγάσασα, Στορέσας, Τελέσας, Ὑπερβάσσας.

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and the fact that this reading would be perfectly acceptable, the question remains open as to whether it is better to read a “red” or a “blue” alphabet. Some years ago Manganaro (2003a, 8, pl. 2, 11 and 11A, 2003b, 855, pl. 143, 44 11 ) published a coin legend ΣΙΧΑΣ (fig. 10), which he reads as Σίχας.45

Dell’Oro_010

Fig. 10: Recto and verso of a trihemiobolion with inscribed legend. After Manganaro 2003b, pl. 143, no. 11.

The scholar interprets it as the nominative of the proper name of the fluvial divinity represented on the coin’s obverse, where the horned head of a youth is represented in profile facing right.46 The possibility of connecting the name with a toponym is important because it makes the need to find a plausible Greek etymology for this name less urgent. Still, the coin legend does not resolve the issue of whether both the inscription from Himera and the coin legend should rather be read as Σίξας. Even though, unfortunately, the dating and the place where the coin was found are not known with certainty, it seems likely that both finds bear the same name. As regards the reading, the hypothesis of a red alphabet should definitively be abandoned if there is a connection between the legend ΙΧΑΝΙΝΟΝ ΔΑΜΟΣΙΟΝ (Ἰχανίνōν δᾱμόσιον),47 which appears on a bronze kerykeion (5th century BCE, allegedly from the countryside of Villadoro in the province of Enna, IGDS II, no. 92), and the coin legend ΣΙΧẠ, which is read as Σιχα(νίνōν)

_____

44 He reads the legend as ΣΙΧΑ in another publication (Manganaro 1996b, 140, n. 57). 45 Unfortunately, the single letters of the coin legend are not clearly legible on the published photograph, with the exception of the cross-shaped sign. I, therefore, have to trust the reading given by Manganaro. 46 The coin is a trihemiobolion. The head is adorned with a grapevine shoot with the vine leaf behind the neck and preceded by the legend ΣΙΧΑΣ, which is written clockwise. 47 Cf. Stephanus Byzantius, s.v. Ἴχανα: Ἴχανα, πολίχνιον τῆς Σικελίας, διὰ τὸ τῇ αὐτοῦ ἁλώσει πολλὰ προσλιπαρῆσαι τοὺς Συρακουσίους. ἰχανᾶν δὲ τὸ ἐπιθυμεῖν. τὸ ἐθνικὸν Ἰχανῖνος.

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and attributed to the Ichaninoi by Manganaro (1984, 30–32, pl. 5, 78 and 78a,48 1996b, 140–141, pl. 11, 9, 2003a, 9, pl. 2, 12, 2003b, 855–856).49 Unfortunately, once again the dating and the place where the coins were found are not known with certainty.50 On the coin’s obverse the frontal face, directed towards the left, of a fluvial deity with two horns and hair, which seems to move in the water, is represented, while on the reverse an aphlaston with the point towards the right and two groups of three globes together with the legend ΝΙΚA are found. The legend points to a non-Ionian environment, but this is not enough to conclude that the coins cannot come from a Euboean city, as the Euboean colonies fell under the control or the influence of Doric cities quite early. 51 Even though some evidence for the lenition (cf. Schmoll 1958, 57 n. 1) of an initial sibilant is already known from at least one other name of a town in Sicily, i.e., the toponym Segesta/Egesta, some caution is needed here. With the exception of Segesta/Egesta, the other attestations are uncertain (Schmoll 1958, 57; Agostiniani 1977, 138), in particular because the exact identification of the places is not possible or only hypothetical. Therefore, we cannot exclude the possibility that a name with s- and the same name without s- refer to different places. From a methodological point of view, even though an etymological connection between the two names remains a priori possible, we should try to understand the phenomenon first of all through certain examples of one and the same place (or, more generally, linguistic referent) with and without s-. As regards the evidence about Segesta/Egesta, the town is called Egesta by Stephanus Byzantius,52 while Segestan coins bear both legends – with and without the initial sibilant (LAgrM: s.v. Segesta / Siz.), e.g., ΣΑΓΕΣΤΑ (475–430 BCE)

_____ 48 Manganaro reports on 4 coins (hemilitria). He does not say explicitly how many coins bear the legend. 49 Boehringer (1985) reads the legend as ΣΙΚΑ and thinks that is an error for . Salzmann (1990) reads ΑΚΙΣ and identifies in the face and in the legend the river Ἄκις. His suggestion is accepted by Leschhorn in LAgrM: s.v. ΑΚΙΣ. Both readings unnecessarily assume an error. 50 According to Manganaro, the coins belong to the end of the 5th century BCE and come from the area of Himera. 51 The case of the coinage of Zancle/Messene, with the change to the form Μεσσάνα under Doric rule, is very instructive in this sense. The legend Μεσσε̄νίο̄ν (IGASMG III, no. 40, 480– 460 BCE) reflects the rule of Anaxilas and his successor (until 461 BCE), while the later one Μεσσᾱνίο̄ν (IGASMG III, no. 42, 460–430 BCE) is due to the faction which gained power after the short re-establishment of the Zanclaean faction after 461. 52 S.v. Ἔγεστα: ῎Εγεστα, πόλις Σικελίας, ἔνθα θερμὰ ὕδατα, ὡς Φίλων (FGrH 790 F 36). ἀπὸ ’Εγέστου τοῦ Τρωός. τὸ ἐθνικὸν ’Εγεσταῖος, καὶ θηλυκῶς.

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or ΣΕΓΕΣΤΑ (475–450) and ΕΓΕΣ(Σ)ΤΑΙΟΝ (5th ca. BCE).53 The form Ἐγεσταίων without the sibilant seems to be exclusively Greek: on the bilingual Segestan coins, the Elymian forms are always with the initial s-, while the Greek form can be Ἐγεσταίων or Σεγεσταίων.54 The form without the initial sibilant should have come into the Greek language through a third language (not Elymian), which knew the lenition of the sibilant (Schmoll 1958, 58–59; Willi 2008, 338). As regards the other attestations which have been made (Schmoll 1958, 57),55 there seems to be additional evidence now, e.g., for Σίπανα / Ἵπανα as well as for other toponyms (cf. Dubois 2011, 21–23 and 27). At any rate, the problem of the exact identification of the places remains. One could, e.g., consider the case of Serge(n)tion/Ergetion. Stephanus Byzantius reports the existence of ’Εργέτιον, πόλις Σικελίας (s.v.), whose ethnicon was ’Εργετῖνος. 56 Ptolemaeus (Geog. 3.4.7.13) attests to the form Σεργέντιον, and Polyaenus (5.6) talks about a stratagem by Ippocrates against the Ἐργετῖνοι.57 A tablet from Dodona attests to the form in the genitive Ἑργετίω (Lhôte 2006, no. 75). A form with initial s- (ΣΕΡΓΕΤΑΙΩΝ)58 is attested on some coin legends, and Calciati (1987, 201–205) has suggested identifying Sergetai(?)59 with the city called Ergetion by the geographer Cluverius (1580–1622), i.e., a locality between Centuripae and Agyrion to the north and Menaion to the south. This seems a suitable hypothesis, but Dubois (2011, 22) prefers pinpointing the locality north of Acrai because of a Christian inscription found in Ferla, which mentions an ἐκκλησίῃ Ἐργιτάνῃ (cf. IGCVO no. 762). As the evidence is so limited and, for the most part, problematic, the connection between the ethnic Ἰχανίνοι and the coin legends ΣΙΧΑ cannot be certain, at least at the moment. On the other hand, the presence of a fluvial divinity with horned head also on the coins with the legend ΣΙΧΑ makes a connection between these coins and the coin with the legend ΣΙΧΑΣ likely. Should we consider the existence of a non-attested toponym Σίχα (nominative), whose name,

_____ 53 Cf. also Schmoll 1958, 5–6 (for the coin legends), 8–9 (for the toponym Segesta), 57–61 (about the lenition of the sibilant); and Willi 2008, 337–339. 54 Cf. Schmoll 1958, 8; Willi 2008, 338. 55 Cf. also Willi 2008, 348 for the possibility of interpreting HIKANA (Manganaro 1998, 253) as a lenited form to be put in relation with the ethnicon Σικανοί. 56 πό λις Σικελί ας, Φίλιστος Σικελικῶν β̅ (FgrH 556 F 10) δευτέ ρᾳ. τὸ ἐθνικὸν Ἐργετῖνος καὶ †αιτ ἐργετ***. 57 The location of the city is given as uncertain in BTCGI 7, 344–346; Hansen/Nielsen 2004, 176–177; Puglisi 2009, 318. 58 Leschhorn 2009, s.v. Sergetai / Siz. 59 It is not clear to me why the name of the city has to be ΣΕΡΓΕΤΑΙ. Could it not just be ΣΕΡΓΕΤΑ? Cf., e.g., the ethnic of Himera, i.e., Ἱμεραῖος.

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as in the case of the city of Gela, can also appear in the genitive (Σίχας) on coins? Or rather that of a non-attested theonym Σίχας (nominative), whose form also appears in the genitive on coins? In the second case, the name on the tablet from Himera could be explained as an anthroponym or also as a theonym. Even though more than one question still needs to be answered (e.g., where should the river Sichas be located? Does the inscription Sichas in Himera refer to a god or to a man? etc.), it is at least possible that the inscription from Himera is an attestation of a non-Euboean alphabet. The hypothesis is tempting, and there is another early attestation for a blue alphabet in Himera: the graffito ΧΑΡΟΝΟΣ (Χάρωνος) on an Attic amphora (Brugnone/Vassallo 2004, 764, no. 8, middle of the 6th century BCE) which perhaps was inscribed in Himera.

Some final thoughts The four cases considered above have given an overview of possible instances of language contact in the Western Euboean colonies. Looking at the inscriptional material from – one could say – “a non-Euboean perspective” has permitted seeing old problems in a new light as well as theorizing new ones. We have seen that linguistic contact between Greek alphabets and dialects can be due to the original mixed character of the population of the colony at the very moment of the colonial enterprise (the case of the Cycladic Naxian settlers in Naxos of Sicily); or that it could be due to the presence in the colony of foreigners who came there after its foundation, from far away (the case of Corinthian potters and/or painters) or from the nearby regions (the case of the influence from other Greek colonial settlements or from non-Greek settlements, as suggested by the name on the lead tablet from Himera). Another possible case is that of people coming from the mother-town later, after the foundation of the colony and bringing with them non-colonial features of the same alphabet and/or dialect (the case of the presence of rhotacism in the Euboean colonies). One aspect that should still be investigated is to what extent the presence of non-Euboean elements had an effect on the language in the colonies. Unfortunately, there is not yet enough material to answer such a question. To different degrees such influences shaped the language (as well as the cultural life) of a given place, i.e., they contributed to the development of a new identity. We now have to wait for new finds in Methone in order to be able to gain a glimpse into the varieties of dialects spoken and alphabets written side by side with the Euboean ones. neue Seite

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Roger D. Woodard

Alphabet and Phonology at Methone: Beginning a Typology of Methone Alphabetic Symbols and an Alternative Hypothesis for Reading Hακεσάνδρō Roger D. Woodard Alphabet and Phonology at Methone

Abstract: This study is divided into two parts. Part one is an examination of the several letters of the Greek alphabet that appear in the Methone inscriptions and of their variant forms. Each of these is compared with similar letter forms attested in various local Greek alphabets that are otherwise known. This examination marks the beginning of developing a typology for the Methone alphabet. Part two of the study addresses the graffito of ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2). The name spelled hακεσάνδρō in this graffito is carefully investigated (phonologically, morphologically, semantically) and an alternative interpretation of its sense, in light of the context of its occurrence, is explored, one which draws on a proposed Semitic origin of the Greek noun σά κος, naming a type of large shield. The verb that accompanies the name, στερέ ω, is examined in its various literary uses – archaic, tragic, Herodotean and Thucydidean – in order to determine what type of object one might expect to be construed with the verb in the functional context of the skyphos on which the graffito appears.

In this paper I would like to begin developing a typology of the Methone alphabetic symbols. To this end, I start by examining the first several attested letters of the alphabet in use at Methone: alpha, gamma, delta, and epsilon. I then depart from alphabetic sequence to offer a few observations about sigma and, especially, eta – which will lead to a consideration of a particular sporadic Greek sound change, together with an inquiry into the reading of the name spelled hακεσάνδρō in the graffito of ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2).

PART 1: Alphabetic Typology A survey of these several alphabetic symbols reveals a variety of letter shapes that are characteristic of various archaic scripts of Euboea and other Ionic locales, among still other local alphabets. Notable is the morphological variation

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that typifies the individual alphabetic symbols. Such variability at Methone is consistent with other local archaic alphabetic traditions.

Alpha The inscribed materials from Methone offer a total of seven well-preserved alphas, an eighth may occur on ΜΘ 2427 (Methone Pierias I, no. 6), and seemingly a very small fragment of a ninth is found on ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2). Aside from those of the Dipylon oinochoe (Attic) and the Lacco Ameno sherd (Euboean – if it, in fact, bears Greek, rather than Phoenician, letters1), archaic Greek alpha is typically some distance removed from its Phoenician precursor, aleph; the Methone alphas are no exception in this regard. Three of the seven well-preserved alphas occur in the long inscription of ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2). All three are characterized by a vertical, or nearly vertical back leg and a front leg that shows a sweeping curve.

(1) ΜΘ 2248 The transverse stroke appears fully horizontal in the case of the second alpha of hακεσάνδρō and leans only slightly downward, toward the direction of writing, in the instance of the first alpha of the same form. The third alpha, that of the sequence ]ατον, shows a transverse stroke with a still greater downward slope. Somewhat close parallels to these are provided by a subset of the alphas of the seventh-century BCE Mt. Hymettos graffiti: for example, on the fragments H 146 and H 30.2 Similarly, certain of the alphas of the Boeotian Mantiklos statuette, perhaps from Thebes (late eighth or early seventh century BCE), offer a match.3 The remaining well-preserved alphas from Methone are fundamentally of the isosceles variety, though that of ΜΘ 2466 + 2431 (Methone Pierias I, no. 9) has a back leg that sweeps away from the direction of writing and that of ΜΘ 2250 (Methone Pierias I, no. 10) has a forward sweeping flourish on the bottom of the front leg.

_____ 1 See McCarter 1975, 134–135. 2 Langdon 1976. 3 LSAG 90–91 and pl. 7.1; Guarducci 1967, 1, 145–146; Heubeck 1979, 120, with Abb. 44.

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(2) ΜΘ 2466 + 2431

(3) ΜΘ 2250 This latter alpha (ΜΘ 2250, Methone Pierias I, no. 2), like that of ΜΘ 2239 (Methone Pierias I, no. 23), is marked by a horizontal transverse stroke (which also forms what appears to be the base of an inverted [ligatured] delta in the case of ΜΘ 2239, Methone Pierias I, no. 23; see below). The transverse stroke of ΜΘ 2466 + 2431 (Methone Pierias I, no. 9) slopes downward slightly toward the direction of writing; that of ΜΘ 2254 (Methone Pierias I, no. 12) slopes sharply in seemingly the same way – though the direction of writing has been questioned.

(4) ΜΘ 2254 Several varieties of the isosceles alpha occur in archaic Greek inscriptions, with either horizontal or slanting transverse strokes. Certain of those in the Nestor’s Cup inscription from Pithekoussai (second half of the eighth-century)4 are fundamentally the same as those from Methone, as is that in the name that has been read as Μιμαλ(λ)ōν on the mid-eighth-century amphora fragment from Pithekoussai.5 Also at Pithekoussai, the alpha of a late eighth-century graffito reading in part … ακισ… has an alpha of comparable morphology.6 The aforementioned Mantiklos statuette (late eighth or early seventh century BCE) also offers examples of alpha similar to the Methone isosceles varieties. That of the eighth-century cup from Rhodes7 bears a notable similarity to the alpha of ΜΘ 2254 (Methone Pierias I, no. 12), though the transverse stroke slants downward away from the direction of writing. The same can be said for the alpha of the eighth-century boustrophedon fragment from the Athenian Acropolis.8

_____ 4 LSAG 235–236 and pl. 47.1; Guarducci 1967, 1, 226–227, with figs. 88 a–b; Metzger 1965, pl. 17; Heubeck 1979, 109–116, with Abb. 41; IGASMG 18–19; IGDGG I, 22–28. 5 LSAG p. 463; Johnston 1983, 64; IGASMG 17; IGDGG I, 21–22. 6 Johnston 1983, 64; IGASMG 21; IGDGG I, 29–30. 7 LSAG pl. 67.1. 8 LSAG pl. 1.2.

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Gamma The gamma of ΜΘ 2253 (Methone Pierias I, no. 3) finds a match on the gravestone of Ankylion from Anaphe (utilizing the script of Thera), ca. early seventh century BCE9 and is close to the Phoenician gimel of the Karatepe inscriptions (third quarter of the eighth century BCE),10 as well as to that of the Nora Stone from Sardinia (ca. mid ninth century BCE).11

(5) ΜΘ 2253 One of the two symbols partially visible on ΜΘ 2426 (Methone Pierias I, no. 19) has been tentatively identified as a gamma. If so, it has been executed with a double transverse stroke, one at 90˚ to the vertical shaft.

(6) ΜΘ 2426 Such a horizontal cross-stroke characterizes the gamma of the Boeotian Mantiklos statuette inscription (late eighth or early seventh century BCE) and that one seen in the abecedarium on the cup from the Heraion of Samos (ca. mid seventh century BCE; eastern Ionic)12 – in addition to other such gammas found in early Ionic inscriptions from Amorgos, as in the Deïdamas epitaph (Naxian and Samian elements; ca. first half of the seventh century BCE)13 – and elsewhere. Compare the gamma having the same morphology though facing in the opposite direction found in a partial abecedarium etched onto the base of a conical oinochoe from Cyme, late eighth or early seventh century BCE.14

_____ 9 LSAG 322 and pl. 62.26. 10 KAI 26. 11 Gibson 1982, 25–28. Regarding the Nora Stone and its date, which some Semitists would vary by as much as a few decades from that cited here, see Woodard 2014:76 with note 351 (for bibliography). The same variation in dating applies to scholarship on the Karatepe inscriptions, on which materials see Woodard 2014:305n334 (for bibliography). 12 LSAG 471 and pl. 79.7; Guarducci 1967, 1, 265–266 and fig. 119. 13 LSAG 293 and pl. 56.15; Guarducci 1967, 1, 157, with fig. 40. 14 Cordano 1984, 282–283, 291, 304, no. 7; IGDGG I, 36–40.

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The second transverse stroke of the gamma of ΜΘ 2426 (Methone Pierias I, no. 19) is oblique, angled more like that of the gamma of ΜΘ 2253 (Methone Pierias I, no. 3), though of greater length. Accompanying the alpha of ΜΘ 2254 (Methone Pierias I, no. 12) there appears to be an isosceles gamma.

(7) ΜΘ 2254 One finds a letter approaching this form in the inscription of the Naxian Nicandra statue from Delos (mid seventh century BCE; central Ionic).15 The isosceles gamma is well represented in the seventh-century Attic graffiti from Mt. Hymettos – being the regular form of gamma in use in these materials.16 The isosceles gamma of ΜΘ 2254 (Methone Pierias I, no. 12), with its teepee-like top, may thus be the earliest-known example of this Greek letter shape.

Delta The Methone materials show a total of three deltas – each of them of a different type. The delta of ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2) is very close to those of the Nestor’s Cup inscription from Pithekoussai (ca. second half of the eighth century).

(8) ΜΘ 2248 It is essentially the delta of the abecedarium on the cup from the Samian Heraion (ca. mid seventh century BCE). The delta of ΜΘ 2237 (Methone Pierias I, no. 4) with its fully rounded forward facing side, on the other hand, is well represented on the Mantiklos statuette inscription (late eighth or early seventh century BCE) and occurs in the abecedarium of the ivory writing tablet from the necropolis of Marsiliana

_____

15 LSAG 291 and pl. 55.2; Guarducci 1967, 1, 154–156, with figs. 38 a–c; Heubeck 1979, 124–125, with Abb. 52. 16 See Langdon 1976, 42 for a list of inscriptions showing the letter.

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d’Albegna17 and that of a brown impasto goblet from Narce18 – both ca. second quarter of the seventh century BCE and both preserving Euboean letters – and is found on still other seventh-century Euboean abecedaria from Etruria.

(9) ΜΘ 2237 The symbol is close to the Phoenician dalet of the Nora Stone (ca. mid ninth century). In what looks to be a ligature-like combination of alpha and delta on ΜΘ 2239 (Methone Pierias I, no. 23), a fragment dated to the late seventh or sixth century, the form of delta is that of an (approximately) equilateral triangle (though inverted).

(10) ΜΘ 2239 The type occurs frequently in the seventh-century graffiti from Mt. Hymettos. A less equilateral, perhaps transitional, form can be seen as early as the incised sherds from the Potter’s Quarter at Corinth – perhaps eighth century BCE, though some would date them later.19

Epsilon Epsilon is the single most frequently attested letter in the Methone inscriptions, which offer a total of seventeen well-preserved instances of the vowel character plus 2 additional, partial, though unmistakable, forms (those being on ΜΘ 2253, Methone Pierias I, no. 3 – the second epsilon of the sequence ’Επιγε[ – and on ΜΘ 2251, Methone Pierias I, no. 11). Two parameters are helpful in discussing the typology of the Methone epsilons: (A) the orientation of the spine of the letter relative to the verticality of neighboring letters; and (B) the endpoint of the spine relative to the topmost cross-stroke.

_____

17 LSAG 236–237 and pl. 48.18; Guarducci 1967, 1, 228–229, with fig. 89. 18 LSAG 237 and pl. 48.21; Pandolfini/Prosdocimi 1990, 21–22 and Tav. III. 19 LSAG 120–121, 441 and pl. 18.1; Heubeck 1979, 121, with Abb. 46; Stillwell/Benson 1984, 40– 41 and pl. 122, (1)143.a–b.

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Of the well-preserved examples of epsilon at Methone, a subset were executed with a spine that tilts, to a lesser or greater degree, toward the direction of writing, relative to the verticality of neighboring letters. I would judge that three are so executed – those of ΜΘ 2482 (Methone Pierias I, no. 14) and 2421 (Methone Pierias I, no. 15), but also the first epsilon of the longest inscription from Methone, that of ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2).

(11) ΜΘ 2248 The diachronic significance of this forward tilt is unclear,20 but the morphology is well attested elsewhere. Thus two ca. 700 BCE sherds from Pithekoussai, appearing to preserve the genitive nominal Τεισōνος, show such an epsilon-type.21 The abecedarium on the writing tablet from Marsiliana d’Albegna, preserving archaic Euboean alphabet (ca. second quarter of the seventh century BCE), also shows a forward-tilting epsilon. The same type may occur in the so-called Μιμαλ(λ)ōν amphora fragment from Pithekoussai (ca. mid eighth-century BCE, found in the form ε̄ μι), though the vertical orientation of the letter is difficult to establish in the sweeping contour of the fragmentary line in which it occurs. Tilted epsilons appear in the Euboean name Δε̄ μοθερε̄ ς found in an inscription on a lebes from Thebes (ca. 625–600 BCE), and the accompanying Boeotian dedication to Apollo Kerykeios shows one no less.22 Jeffery remarks on the occurrence of forward-tilted epsilon at Cyme, found in the boustrophedon tomb inscription of Κριτοβολε̄ ς, dated to the sixth century BCE,23 and describes the tilt as “a local characteristic which occurs again in four later inscriptions [i.e. from Cyme, ca. sixth to fifth century BCE24] as well as independently elsewhere in Greece (Laconia; … Ionia).”25 Jeffery’s “elsewhere” reference can be elaborated. In her discussion of the Laconian alphabet,26 she draws attention to a tilted epsilon that occurs in a graffito on a bone flute from the site of Artemis Orthia (note that a similarly tilted wau occurs in another of these), ca. late seventh or early sixth century BCE, as

_____ 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

But see the discussions of Carpenter 1938, 69 and Sass 2005, 142–145. Johnston 1983, 67; IGASMG 19; IGDGG I, 31. LSAG 88, 91–92, 94 and pl. 7.5. LSAG 240 and pl. 47.4; IGASMG 13 and Tav. VI.2; IGDGG I, 49. For these, see LSAG 240 and pl. 47.7, 8 and pl. 48.9, 11. LSAG 238. LSAG 189.

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well as in graffiti on two plates from the same locale and period.27 More than this, she judges the forward-leaning epsilon to be “a distinct feature of the early alphabet” at Cyme and in Ionia28 and “common in early Ionic.”29 She draws specific attention, with regard to the latter alphabetic sphere, to its occurrence in a hexametric inscription on marble from the Heraion of Samos (ca. 560 BCE);30 in a dedication by the sons of Anaximandros on a statue base from Didyma (ca. first quarter of the sixth century BCE);31 and on an inscribed silver plaque from the Artemision of Ephesus (ca. 550 BCE),32 though in the two last-named, tilted epsilon can be seen to alternate with a more vertical variety, a condition to which we shall return immediately below. With these examples of forward leaning epsilon, compare that of the early eighth-century graffito from Osteria dell’Osa, which appears to tilt conspicuously away from the direction of writing.33 In several instances, as on the statue base from Didyma and the silver plaque from the Artemision, only some subset of epsilons within an inscription displays the forward lean. From Pithekoussai, a dipinto on a krater fragment, ca. 700 BCE,34 preserving the artists signature, shows one epsilon with a notable forward tilt and another with near verticality (compare too the eighth-century τελε (?) graffito on an amphora from Pithekoussai with two epsilons that appear to show the same variance35). On the Dipylon oinochoe from Athens, ca. 725 BCE, the first of three epsilons shows a conspicuous tilt toward the direction of writing, the others less so, if at all.36 Both varieties are also in use in a dipinto on an oinochoe from the precinct of Athena Chalkioikos in Sparta.37 Particularly intriguing is a neatly crafted inscription on the rim of a bronze lebes, ca. 600–550 BCE, found at Delphi – perhaps Rhodian, or Laconian, or possibly Boeotian.38 The first epsilon of the fragment tilts noticeably forward; the ensuing three show an orientation that is consistent with the verticality of the surrounding letters.

_____ 27 LSAG 198 and pl. 35.3 and 35.2a–b, respectively. Jeffery (pp. 189–190) also calls attention to the use of tilted epsilon in a somewhat later –ca. 600–550 BCE– Laconian inscription found on a marble seat at Olympia. 28 LSAG 189. 29 LSAG 325. 30 LSAG 329, 341, 471 and pl. 63.4. 31 LSAG 332, 342, 377, 472 and pl. 64.23. 32 LSAG 339, 344 and pl. 66.53. 33 The so-called εὐλιν graffito; see, inter alia, Bietti Sestieri/De Santis/La Regina 1990. 34 Johnston 1983, 64; IGASMG 19–20; IGDGG I, 32–33. 35 IGASMG 22; IGDGG I, 32. 36 LSAG pl. 1.1; Guarducci 1967, 1, 135–136, with fig. 28. 37 LSAG 198, 4; Woodward/Droop/Lamb 1926/27, 71 fig. 13. 38 LSAG 190 and pl. 35.11; Lerat 1944; Jacquemin 1999, 59n172; Woodard 2014 §2.9.

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The inscription is interesting, in part, because of its use of an eta symbol having four horizontal cross-strokes. Such a distinctive eta morphology can otherwise be found in a graffito on the handle of an oinochoe from Eretria (ca. mid sixth century BCE),39 in the Euboean alphabet of the Marsiliana writing tablet (ca. second quarter of the seventh century BCE), and in an inscription running around the rim of a bronze lebes from Boeotia awarded as a prize at the funeral games for Ἐκπροπος (ca. 700–675 BCE).40 The Marsiliana abecedarium is of course also one that shows forward-leaning epsilon, noted above, as does the dedication on the Boeotian lebes, while the affiliated commemoration shows epsilons with vertical spines. The presence or absence of an upward extension of the spine of epsilon beyond the topmost cross-stroke constitutes a fundamental distinction of epsilon typology, just as it does of the typology of Phoenician he, the precursor of Greek epsilon: such a he can be seen in use in ninth-century lapidary Phoenician inscriptions.41 The epsilon of the graffito from Osteria dell’Osa (ca. early eighth century BCE) and that of the Μιμαλ(λ)ōν amphora fragment from Pithekoussai (ca. mid eighth-century BCE; appearing in the form ε̄ μι) are both characterized by having spines that extend through and beyond the topmost cross-stroke. This spiked design shows itself in the epsilon of the partial abecedarium on the aforementioned conical oinochoe from Cyme, late eighth or early seventh century BCE. Such spiked epsilons also appear in the Euboean script on the Protocorinthian Ταταιε̄ ς aryballos from Cyme (ca. second quarter of the seventh century BCE)42 and in the earlier-mentioned Deïdamas epitaph from eastern Ionian Amorgos (ca. first half of the seventh century BCE). At least one (possibly both) of the two epsilons on the fragment of a vase belonging to Istrokles from Smyrna likewise has a spine that protrudes upward beyond the highest cross-stroke (and the epsilons have four cross-strokes each; perhaps mid-seventh century).43 The forward-tilting epsilons of the above-mentioned Δε̄ μοθερε̄ ς lebes from Thebes (ca. 625–600 BCE) are spiked. Several (nearly half) of the Methone epsilons are characterized by a spine that extends in this way, beyond the topmost cross-stroke. The ε̄ μι that appears on ΜΘ 2249 (Methone Pierias I, no. 1), written with bold, almost impressionistic, characters certainly preserves such an epsilon.

_____ 39 40 41 42 43

LSAG pl. 10, 22; Woodard 2014 §2.9. See LSAG 91, 94 and pl. 7.2 a–b. See McCarter 1975, 81, 93. LSAG 238 and pl. 47.3; Heubeck 1979, 124; IGASMG 29; IGDGG I, 41–42. Guarducci 1967, 1, 270–272, with fig. 123.

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(12) ΜΘ 2249 Both of the spidery epsilons of ΜΘ 2237 (Methone Pierias I, no. 4) do as well.

(13) ΜΘ 2237 On ΜΘ 2238 (Methone Pierias I, no. 5) one finds this type of epsilon in the middle . Compare with this the nearly of the dextrograde graphemic sequence ⊗ΕΟ. identical sinistrograde dipinto from the “tomb of Nestor” at Pithekoussai (ca. 725–700 BCE),44 likewise showing the x-type of theta and dotted omicron, but with an epsilon lacking the vertical hyperextension.45 Epsilons with spines extended above the topmost cross-stroke also occur on ΜΘ 2255, 2425, and 2247 (Methone Pierias I, nos. 7, 16, and 22). The balance of epsilons at Methone lack this upward extension. The seven epsilons of the long inscription of ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2) are of this type – with one possible exception, to which we shall return. The well-preserved epsilon on the skyphos ΜΘ 2253 (Methone Pierias I, no. 3) lacks the spike (as certainly does the partial epsilon at the broken end of the inscription); and the above-noted forward-tilting epsilons of ΜΘ 2482 and 2421 (Methone Pierias I, nos. 14 and 15) are also of this truncated variety: likewise, the aforementioned tilting epsilons of the Marsiliana writing tablet (ca. second quarter of the seventh century BCE) and the Τεισōνος sherds from Pithekoussai (ca. 700 BCE).46 The Mantiklos statuette (ca. late eighth or early seventh century BCE) appears to use consistently this sort of epsilon, though a couple of the epsilons are difficult to parse in this regard. Epsilons lacking this projection also characterize the scripts of the late eighth-century dipinto from the temple of Apollo at Aegina;47 the hexametric dipinto on fragments of an oinochoe from Ithaca, dated ca. 700 BCE;48 and the inscription of the cup from the Heraion of Samos (ca. mid seventh century BCE), mentioned above, which, however, displays a spiked wau.

_____ 44 Johnston 1983, 67; IGASMG 20–21; IGDGG I, 28–29. 45 Buchner/Ridgway (1993, 216) draw attention to a ca. 600 BCE Eretrian dipinto θεά (LSAG 84). 46 In the same way, perhaps the eighth-century amphora with the τελε (?) graffito, but the drawing in IGDGG I, is not fully clear. 47 LSAG 110 and pl. 16.1; Guarducci 1967, 1, 196–197. 48 LSAG 230 and pl. 45.1; Guarducci 1967, 1, 274–275.

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Notable is the co-occurrence of both spiked and non-spiked epsilons in a number of archaic inscriptions – one being the above-mentioned inscription on a bronze lebes given as a prize at the funeral games for Ἐκπροπος from Boeotia (also showing both tilted and vertical epsilons), dated ca. 700–675 BCE, and so having approximately the same date and provenience as the Mantiklos statuette (even if the commemoration and the dedication are by different hands at different moments, as some have speculated, as variation occurs within each part). The presence of both spiked and non-spiked epsilons can be seen in the eighthcentury fragment from the Athenian Acropolis: one is long with the upward extension, the other short (in comparison) and without it. Conspicuous in this morphological variation is the Naxian Nicandra statue (mid seventh century BCE), which shows considerable use of both spiked and non-spiked epsilons. I mentioned above that all seven epsilons of the long inscription of ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2) lack the upward extension of the spine, except perhaps one, that of the intriguing spelling hακεσάνδρō. Under magnification, a high resolution photograph of the inscription49 appears to reveal a small extension of the spine through the top bar – quite small in the present state, but seemingly absent from the other examples of the letter in this inscription. It is perhaps worth noting that by coincidence this Methone epsilon, so read morphologically, matches the initial epsilon of the Dipylon oinochoe in having both an upward extended and a forward tilting spine. Moreover, as the initial epsilon of ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2) differs morphologically from the remaining six with their vertical spines, so the initial epsilon of the Dipylon oinochoe differs from the remaining two epsilons of that inscription in that they too have (nearly) vertical, rather than forward tilting, spines (though at least one of the other two agrees in having a spine that penetrates the top cross-stroke). (14)

ΜΘ 2248 hακεσανδρō ↑ tilting spiked ?

Dipylon oinochoe ὀρχε̄ στōν ↑ tilting spiked

The variation in letter shapes within a single Greek inscription is an often noted phenomenon, an expression of what I have called “playful orthography.”50 I believe that this is a phenomenon that we can identify with confidence in late eighth- / early seventh-century Methone orthography.

_____

49 Kindly provided by Yannis Tzifopoulos. 50 See Woodard 2014 §§5.2, 6.4, and passim.

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Sigma In the archaic inscriptions of Methone, sigma shows at least three distinct forms. A six-stroke sigma appears on ΜΘ 2249 (Methone Pierias I, no. 1) and apparently on ΜΘ 2247 (Methone Pierias I, no. 22) as well, though the upper portion of the letter is damaged or otherwise obscured (in the photograph). Such a sigma can be seen elsewhere on the earlier-mentioned vase of Istrokles from Smyrna, ca. mid seventh century BCE, though that sigma faces in the opposite direction. Later, in the sixth and fifth centuries BCE, Laconian alphabets will use multistroke sigmas,51 including six-stroke, as in the neatly crafted inscription on the rim of a bronze lebes, ca. 600–550 BCE,52 found at Delphi. Given the graphic composition of Phoenician šin, the earliest Greek sigma was likely the four-stroke, which was pruned to yield the three-stroke.53 ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2) preserves three examples of sigma: each is threestroke, but they vary in the direction in which they face. The first occurring of the three, that of hακεσά νδρō, has a top stroke that is pointed away from the direction of writing (i.e. ← ); the second and third have a top stroke that points toward the direction of writing (i.e. ← ). This variation is mirrored in the inscription of the Dipylon oinochoe, which shows two sigmas: the initial word of the Attic graffito, hος, has a three-stroke sigma with the top stroke extended toward the direction of writing, while the second sigma, that of ὀρχε̄ στōν, has a three-stroke sigma facing in the opposite direction. (15)

ΜΘ 2248 Dipylon oinochoe hακεσανδρō / στερε̄ σ[ετ]αι hος / ὀρχε̄ στōν ↑ ↑ ↑ ↑ ↑ away to to to away

ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2) thus once again agrees with the Dipylon oinochoe in showing specific graphemic variation. We noted above that the Dipylon oinochoe shows a variation in epsilon morphology that is shared, if subtly, by ΜΘ 2248. This agreement in patterning, this shared playful orthography, is repeated in the case of sigma. Compare with the above several instances of Methone sigma the smooth and elongated sigma of ΜΘ 2237 (Methone Pierias I, no. 4), fundamentally a

_____ 51 See the discussion of LSAG 186–187. 52 LSAG pl. 35.11. 53 See McCarter 1975, 87–88.

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three-stroke sigma stretched into a serpentine profile. Its execution is in keeping with the spidery style of the inscription.

(16) ΜΘ 2237 This sigma compares closely to that of the boustrophedon tomb inscription of Κριτοβολε̄ ς from Cyme (ca. sixth century BCE) that was mentioned above in the discussion of forward-leaning epsilon (though both of the epsilons of ΜΘ 2237 (Methone Pierias I, no. 4) are vertical in orientation). It also shows overall closeness to the slightly more angular sigma of a sepulchral inscription from Cyme of ca. the last quarter of the sixth century BCE, one of those “later” inscriptions to which Jeffery draws attention in her discussion of tilted epsilon at Cyme.54

Eta The Phoenician character het provided the Greek alphabet with a symbol for the glottal fricative /h/. The phonemic inventory of speakers of East Ionic lacked this sound, hence the symbol eta was arbitrarily put to use for spelling the inherited long mid front vowel /ē/. The letter eta is, however, a symbol that has a somewhat more complex history of use. The symbol is also one that displays a variability of form. We see it in use at Methone, in the initial word of ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2), the now familiar hακεσάνδρō; the form of the symbol here is that of a rectangle bisected along the horizontal axis, i.e. ⊟ as often in local alphabets. Elsewhere, as on the Nicandra statue, it also takes the form of an undivided rectangle, i.e. □. In the Euboean-born abecedaria of Etruria it takes the shape of a rectangle bisected along both the vertical and horizontal axes (like a windowpane); i.e. ⊞.55 A recent find from the site of the Eretrian sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros reveals the anticipated use of the symbol ⊞ within Euboea itself (ca. second half of the eighth century BCE, though the piece is from a disturbed context56). This same

_____ 54 IG XIV, 873; see the photograph in IGASMG (Tav. VI.1) and the discussion on p. 27. Also see LSAG 240 and pl. 47.7; IGDGG I, 50–51. 55 The Greek adapters of the Phoenician consonantal script employed the Semitic letter samek as the source of this character. 56 On the dating, see Kenzelmann-Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 77–78.

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windowpane eta can also be seen in the Argive alphabet, namely on the Tanagra Stele. Each of these three forms of eta is used to spell the glottal fricative /h/, and at least the first-two named (bisected rectangle and undivided rectangle) are used to spell the long vowel /ē/. The third (the windowpane variety) appears in Euboean abecedaria both in the alphabetic position of eta57 and in the position of xi.58 In the above-mentioned recent discovery from the Eretrian sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros, ⊞ is one of three alphabetic symbols found on a fragment of a monochrome cup (FK78200): ⊞ is the rightmost letter; the leftmost letter lies close to a break. In the circulated pre-publication version of the study in which the find is reported, the authors of the study propose that the threeletter Eretrian graffito comprises a portion of a dedication to Apollo and read the symbols as ]ξοι[ (i.e. assigning ⊞ the /k + s/ value of xi); they interpret the three-letter fragment as the remains of an epithet ending in –τοξος, such as Ἀργυρό τοξοι, an epithet of Apollo well known from Homer’s Iliad and naming the dedicatee of the Mantiklos statuette from neighboring Boeotia (dated to about the same period).59 An identical sequence may be preserved on a fragment of an amphora from the same site (FK99220; ca. first half of the eighth century BCE); a break again obscures the third character, which appears likely to be iota or epsilon, and the ⊞–like symbol has a less angular appearance.60 In the published version of this study, however, the authors have modified their interpretation of the partial letter on the cup (FK78200), reading the leftmost symbol as a pi rather than an iota: they suggest that the graffito is to be understood as the alphabetic sequence ]ξοπ[, a segment of an abecedarium inscribed around the vessel.61 On the other hand, the windowpane variety ⊞ is unambiguously used on the Tanagra stele of the Argives with the value /h/ to spell hυλλεες, the name of an Argive tribe: 62 the assigning of this value to ⊞ (/h/) is consistent with the

_____ 57 In the half abecedarium on a goblet from Narce, ca. second quarter of the seventh century BCE. See Buonamici 1932 TAV. IV; Pandolfini/Prosdocimi 1990, 34–36. 58 As in that on the writing tablet from Marsiliana d’Albegna, ca. second quarter of the seventh century BCE, and at least six other Euboean abecedaria from Etruria. See Woodard 2014 §2.8. 59 Kenzelmann-Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 9 and 16. The authors suggest (p. 16) as an alternative that the three letters could spell a proper name containing the sequence – ξοι- or -ιοξ-. 60 Kenzelmann-Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 75 (no. 64). 61 Kenzelmann-Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005:60 (no. 3). 62 See Meritt 1945; 1952, 351–355; LSAG 164 and pl. 29.30; Papazarkadas/Sourlas 2012, 598, with fig. 8.

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symbol’s appearance in the Euboean abecedarium from Narce in the position of eta. In the inscription of the Nicandra statue, preserving the alphabet of central Ionian Naxos, bisected-rectangle eta (h) is used to spell both the consonant /h/ and the long vowel /ē/. In addition, the undivided-rectangle eta is used in conjunction with sigma to spell the sequence /k + s/, as in Να□σιō (‘of Naxian’), ε□σοχος (‘standing out’), and Φ⊟ραϞ□σō (‘of Phraxos’). The use of the undivided-rectangle eta together with sigma to spell the sequence /k + s/ is almost certainly an example of pleonastic spelling, of a type elsewhere attested.63 In other words, □ alone has the value of /k + s/ and this phonemic sequence /k + s/ is here hyper-spelled (□σ). Notice the use of the bisected-rectangle eta in a pleonastic spelling of another sort in this same inscription: the aspirated /ph/ of Φ⊟ρα□σō is spelled (φ ⊟). For the pleonastic representation of /k + s/, compare, among other examples, the Rhodian spellings ϙυλιξς̣ and κυλιξς for κύλιξ ‘kylix’.64 The symbol □ is also attested at Naxos with the value of /h/:65 again, a form of the eta-symbol gives evidence of being able to spell both /h/ and the sequence /k + s/. There is yet abundant additional evidence of the windowpane symbol being used to spell both an eta-sound and the /k + s/ sequence of xi. In a set of three copper plaques inscribed with repeated sets of archaic Greek abecedaria, two in the Schøyen collection in Oslo and one in the Martin-von-Wagner-Museum of the Julius-Maximilians-Universität Würzburg, ⊞ occurs in either the position of eta or that of xi (or both).66 The various usages of the three varieties of eta (along with H, the openended variant of ⊟) and the locales in which they are so used are summarized in Figure 1. For detailed discussion of these materials and fuller explication of the table, see Woodard 2014, §2.8.

_____ 63 See, inter alia, Buck 1955: 190. 64 For ϙυλιξς̣ (ca. eighth century BCE), see LSAG pl. 67, 1; Guarducci 1967, 1, 328, with fig. 163. The same spelling can be seen on a kylix from Selinous (SEG 31.838), ca. seventh/sixth century BCE. For κυλιξς, as on the “kylix of Philto,” see LSAG 349–350, 357 (no. 27). 65 See the discussion in Woodard 2014:40. 66 For the Würzburg plaque, see Heubeck 1986. For an initial analysis of all three, see Scott et al. 2005. For extensive epigraphic and material examination of the three plaques, see Woodard 2014.

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Symbol

⊞

Local Alphabet

⊟ (and/or H)

Argive

h

h

Euboean (Eretria)

h

ks (?)

Euboean (Cyme)

h

Euboean (Etruria)

h

Aegean Naxian

h/ē



h ks / h ks / h h

Sicilian Naxian Theran

h/ē

Rhodian

h/ē

Knidian

h

Copper Plaques

ks / h / ē

ē ks / h / ē

Figure 1: Local Archaic Greek Use and Distribution of Eta Symbols (adapted from Woodard 2014).

PART 2: hακεσάνδρō and ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2) The genitival compound proper name hακεσάνδρō of ΜΘ 2248 has been interpreted as having a first element that is derived from the verb ἀκέ ομαι ‘to heal, cure’ and reasons have been invoked for thinking that the verb could have once had initial aspiration, following observations made by, inter alia, Chantraine 1980 and Buck 1955.67 While the name without initial aspiration, Ἀκέ σανδρος, is widely attested and the proffered etymological hypothesis is a reasonable one, as others will ably contend in the present volume, the case for initial aspiration in the root of ἀκέ ομαι is not without recognized complication.68 That being the case, perhaps some thoughtful consideration of a possible alternative etymological hypothesis would not be misplaced. For the sake of exploring another such interpretative option, let us consider the possibility that the bisected-rectangle eta found in the spelling of this name, hακεσάνδρō, might, like both of the other two forms of rectangular eta (□ and

_____ 67 See Methone Pierias I, 342. 68 See especially the incisive study by Christina Skelton in this volume.

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⊞) as employed in various Euboean and other Ionian locales, be capable of being used, at the early alphabetic moment represented by the Methone inscriptions, to represent not only the consonant /h/ but also the consonantal sequence /k + s/. We would in this case be dealing with the proper name Ξακέ σανδρος. What would the entailed morpheme ξακεσ- signify? There is in Greek Epic, and later, a well-known archaic nominal τὸ σά κος. A phonological alternation between word-initial [ks-] and [s-] is well attested in Greek in the case of the Ionic preposition/preverb ξύ ν and its variant σύ ν. If hακεσ- should be rightly identified as spelling ξακεσ-, the alternation between stem-forms ξακεσ- and σακεσ- would parallel that of ξύ ν and its variant σύ ν. We will return to an analysis of the phonological issues below. The Greek term σά κος, σά κεος is used to denote a large type of shield, one providing full body coverage, as opposed to the shield called the ἀσπί ς , which has been conventionally identified as a smaller and circular shielding device. Homer knows the use of the σά κος as an implement with which one warrior can provide cover for another, as in his description in Iliad 8.266–272 of Ajax the son of Telamon shielding the archer Teucer. Like a child who hides behind its mother – the Homeric simile – the archer is exposed to shoot Trojans in the battle throng, quickly and systematically, only to be covered over again. Outside of Greece, the tactic is well documented in battle scenes preserved on reliefs recovered from the Assyrian capital of Nimrud. For example, on the gates of the palace of Shalmaneser III (858–824 BCE), in a scene depicting an attack on the northern Syrian city of Hazazu, an Assyrian archer is shown being protected by a warrior who holds in one hand a sword and in the other hand a large rectangular shield that stretches almost the length of his body: only the warrior’s feet and mail-covered lower shins are exposed below the bottom of the shield, and the crown of his conical helmet extends just above the top of the shield.69 Reliefs from the palace of Tiglath-pileser III (744–727 BCE) depict archers protected by large rectangular shields with a backward-pointing right-angle top piece; the shields are steadied by sword/dagger-wielding warriors who prop the lower edge of the shields on the ground.70 Particularly intriguing is the scene of an archer whose body is protected by a warrior holding such a shield, while a third warrior simultaneously protects the heads of all three members of this warriorensemble with a small round shield that he holds aloft.71 Similar full-body, heavy rectangular shields, topped with arching hoods this time, can be seen in

_____

69 See Yadin 1963, vol. 2, 398–399. 70 As in the example in Yadin 1963, vol. 2, 407. 71 See Yadin 1963, vol. 2, 409.

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Nimrud palatial reliefs from the period of Sargon II (721–705 BCE),72 as well as from the time of seventh-century Assyrian monarchs.73 When the Trojans advance against Ajax as they attack the Achaean ships with fire in Iliad 16 (102–111), a solitary Ajax must support the heavy σά κος on his own against a barrage of Trojan missiles, and he is nearly exhausted in so doing. Αἴας δ’ οὐκ ἔτ’ ἔμιμνε· βιά ζετο γὰρ βελέ εσσι· δά μνα μιν Ζηνό ς τε νό ος καὶ Τρῶες ἀγαυοὶ βά λλοντες· δεινὴν δὲ περὶ κροτά φοισι φαεινὴ πή ληξ βαλλομέ νη καναχὴν ἔχε, βά λλετο δ’ αἰεὶ κὰπ φά λαρ’ εὐποί ηθ’· ὃ δ’ ἀριστερὸν ὦμον ἔκαμνεν ἔμπεδον αἰὲν ἔχων σά κος αἰό λον· οὐδὲ δύ ναντο ἀμφ’ αὐτῷ πελεμί ξαι ἐρεί δοντες βελέ εσσιν. αἰεὶ δ’ ἀργαλέ ῳ ἔχετ’ ἄσθματι, κὰδ δέ οἱ ἱδρὼς πά ντοθεν ἐκ μελέ ων πολὺς ἔρρεεν, οὐδέ πῃ εἶχεν ἀμπνεῦσαι· πά ντῃ δὲ κακὸν κακῷ ἐστή ρικτο.

105

110

Ajax wasn’t standing his ground, for he was overwhelmed by missiles; the mind of Zeus was overpowering him, as were the lordly Trojans who pelted him: terribly round his temples the bright helmet rang with raining missiles; again and again it was struck on the well-worked helmet-plates. And his left shoulder suffered endlessly as he held ever tight to the glittering σά κος: but they were not able to knock it aside as they pressed him hard with their missiles. Ceaselessly he labored with grueling gasps, and sweat all-round ran thickly down from his limbs, and he could not catch his breath at all, but on every side evil was set upon evil.

And then, sings Homer (122), χά ζετο δ’ ἐκ βελέ ων ‘he retreated from the missiles’. In his epic of close combat, Homer does not often mention the sling. Nevertheless, many of the missiles aimed at dislodging the σά κος from the grip of Ajax, missiles that skip off of the plates of his helmet, would almost certainly, in such an envisioned sustained attack, have been projectiles (stones and bullets) launched from slings. Compare Iliad 20.285–291, in which verses Aeneas takes in his hand a great stone and prepares to hurl it at Achilles, either against his helmet or against the σά κος with which Achilles has protected himself in this fight with the Trojan hero – a shield (σά κος) of Achilles that the epic poet names as τό οἱ ἤρκεσε λυγρὸν ὄλεθρον ‘that one which had warded off baneful destruction from him’.

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72 See Yadin 1963, vol. 2, 417 (and a shield seemingly without the hood on 418). 73 See, for example, Yadin 1963, vol. 2, 434–435 (Sennacherib; 704–681 BCE), 462–463 (Ashurbanipal, 668–627 BCE).

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The Trojans who barrage Ajax and his σά κος with missiles are simply returning in kind what Homer describes them as having received from the Greeks in Iliad 13.701–722. Here the two Ajaxes stand together to fight in defense of the ships. In this phase of the battle, unlike that of Iliad 16.102–111 (rehearsed just above), Ajax the son of Telamon is followed by his many ‘comrades’, ἕταροι, who would relieve him of the burden of the heavy σά κος whenever κά ματό ς τε καὶ ἱδρὼς ‘both weariness and sweat’ would take him (l. 711; cf. the conjunction of κά μνω and ἱδρώς, naming the afflictions of the solitary Ajax holding up his σά κος in 16.106 and 109). Ajax the son of Oïleus, however, does not receive such close support from his Locrians, who lack heavy armor and spears. Instead, the Locrians from a distance ply their slings74 and bows, οἷσιν ἔπειτα | ταρφέ α βά λλοντες Τρώων ῥή γνυντο φά λαγγας ‘with which they then were shattering the Trojan ranks, launching missiles without relent’ (ll. 717–718). Outside of Homeric epic there is an abundance of evidence for the use of slings as weapons in ancient Greece.75 Slingers and archers are depicted on the well-studied silver Siege Rhyton from Shaft Grave IV at Mycenae.76 The excavation of the Pillar House at Troy provided 17 sling bullets along with 25 vessels, most or all of which have been dated to early LH III.77 A slinger is depicted in combat on an orthostat found at the palace of the Aramaean king Kapara in Tell Halaf (northeastern Syria), tenth century BCE, together with multiple representations of archers and warriors with spears and swords,78 including that of two warriors thrusting their swords into one another, which Burkert has likened to Etrurian images of the “mutual fratricide” of Eteocles and Polynices.79 Greek σφενδό νη ‘sling’80 receives an explicit mention at Iliad 13.599–600, there used by Agenor to bandage the hand of the archer Helenus when it was pierced by the spear of Menelaus. Archilochus (fr. 3) sings of τό ξα ‘bows’ and

_____ 74 ‘Sling’ is here denoted by the phrase ἐϋστρεφὴς οἰὸς ἄωτος ‘well-plaited sheep’s wool’. 75 See Pritchett 1991, 1–67. 76 See, especially, Vermeule 1964, 100–105. 77 Vermeule 1999, 87; Blegen/Caskey/Rawson 1953, 241. 78 See the several images in Yadin 1963, vol. 2, 360–365, 367. 79 Burkert 1992, 111. For the representations from Etruria, see Krauskopf 1974. The two warriors from Tell Halaf grasp one another by the hair: Yadin and Burkert alike draw attention to the Biblical parallel of II Samuel 2:14–17 in which a dozen warriors fighting for Saul and a dozen for David duel in this fashion. 80 The etymology of the term is obscure, but σφενδό νη is most likely to be a borrowing that is equally (and independently) the source of Latin funda ‘sling’; see Chantraine 1968, 1076 and Ernout/Meillet 1959, 260, the latter of whom characterize the term as a “mot technique” and note that “dans l’armée romaine, les frondeurs semblent avoir été des auxiliārēs, originaires des Baléares (cf. Cés., B. G. II 7, 1) ; de même dans l’armée d’Hannibal.”

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σφενδό ναι ‘slings’ being of little use when it comes to the battlefield carnage of the hand-to-hand variety; this is the labor of the ξί φος ‘sword’ – the sort of work wrought by the δεσπό ται Εὐβοί ης δουρικλυτοί ‘spear-famed masters of Euboea’ (cf. Iliad 2.542–544; Strabo 10.1.13). In his geographic description of Euboea, Strabo (10.1.12) writes of having seen a stele in the Amarynthium on which was registered a prohibition against the use of τηλέ βολοι ‘far-strikers’ (i.e. missiles) in, as often presumed (erroneously?81), the war between the Euboean cities of Chalcis and Eretria, ca. 700 BCE (cf. Polybius 13.3.4.). Regardless of the accuracy of Strabo’s account of intra-Euboean war regulation, there is another tradition that unmistakably preserves an account of Euboean use of slings against fellow Euboeans. According to Plutarch (Quaestiones Graecae 11), the people who lived around Methone (πρό σοικοι) called the Methonians οἱ ἀποσφενδό νητοι, ‘those having been driven off by slings’, for which term Plutarch provides an aetiological account. The name is said to have been acquired in this way. Eretrians had colonized Corcyra but were forced to leave that place when they were overwhelmed by a force of Corinthians under the leadership of one Charicrates (ca. 734 BCE);82 the Eretrian colonists then sailed back home to Euboea. As the dislodged colonists approached their mother city, however, the Eretrians, who were aware of what had happened at Corcyra, prevented the returning settlers from landing, repelling them with slings (σφενδονά ω). These displaced Eretrians thus once again left their homeland; and, writes Plutarch: ἐπὶ Θρᾴκης ἔπλευσαν καὶ κατασχό ντες χωρί ον, ἐν ᾧ πρό τερον οἰκῆσαι Μέ θωνα τὸν Ὀρφέ ως πρό γονον ἱστοροῦσι, τὴν μὲν πό λιν ὠνό μασαν Μεθώνην, ὑπὸ δὲ τῶν προσοίκων ‘ἀποσφενδό νητοι’ προσωνομά σθησαν. They sailed away to Thrace and took possession of a place in which formerly Methon, the ancestor of Orpheus, had lived, as it is reported; they themselves named the city Methone, but by those who lived around, they were called οἱ ἀποσφενδό νητοι [‘those having been driven off by slings’].

Those who are οἱ ἀποσφενδό νητοι are very much in need of a Ξακέ σανδρος, that is, of a Σακέ σανδρος, a ‘Shield of Men’.83 The compound immediately conjures

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81 See Wheeler 1987; Ober 1994, 12; Lanni 2008, 471 n.3, 486. 82 Strabo (6.2.4) identifies him as Chersicrates. The alphabet of Corcyra is Corinthian; see LSAG 232–233. 83 There may be a literary trope associating σά κος with a notion of enhanced security. In a recent article, Bershadsky (2010, 15–16) identifies a “functional” difference between σά κος and ἀσπίς, writing: “While there is no correlation between the descriptions of the outward appearance of the shields and their labeling as aspis or sakos, in a fight sakos and aspis often functionally resemble a large and small shield,” with the former, σά κος, portending victory.

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up the image of Ajax son of Telamon – one who himself on an occasion was driven off by slings. With an hypothesized ξακέ σανδρος other compounds can be compared. Homer attests σακέ σπαλος (Iliad 5.126) ‘shield-wielding’, used of the horseman Tydeus. In his Hymn to Zeus (71), Callimachus employs the accusative phrase ἄνδρα σακέ σπαλον as a generic to denote ‘warrior’, that element of society operating beneath the auspices of Ares; and the Suda glosses σακέ σπαλος as ὁ πολεμικό ς. Euripides, Sophocles, Bacchylides – and still others – all attest the compound σακεσφό ρος ‘shield-bearer’: Euripides uses it to describe the Aetolians (Phoenissae 139); Sophocles uses it of Ajax (Ajax 18–19; ἐπ’ ἀνδρὶ δυσμενεῖ | … Αἴαντι τῷ σακεσφό ρῳ ‘to the vile-raging84 man | … shield-bearing Ajax’), as does Bacchylides (Odes 13.104; Αἴαντα σακεσφό ρον ἥ[ρω ‘Ajax, shield-bearing hero’). Sophocles writes that Ajax had a son by the name Εὐρύ σακες ‘BroadShield’ (Ajax 340), named for the shield that his father carried and to which son that shield would be given (574–575; and see further below).85 In Shield 13, Hesiod86 refers to the men of Thebes as φερεσσακέ ας Καδμεί ους ‘shield-bearing Cadmeans’. Here, in contrast to the case of σακεσφό ρος and σακέ σπαλος, σά κος appears as the second member of the compound; compare the name Εὐρύ σακες given to Ajax’ son. The double sigma in the spelling of φερεσσακέ ας has been taken to reveal that σά κος developed from an earlier form with an initial consonant cluster which, in this intervocalic context, gave rise to a geminate (i.e. /ss/) reflex, as opposed to the single reflex (/s/) seen word-initially. Not uncommonly, that cluster has been conjectured to have been */tw-/, with Sanskrit tvák- ‘skin’ and Hittite tuekka- ‘body’ offered as cognates: the hypothesis entails an earlier Greek form *τϝακος.87 For the moment, let us operate with the alternative hypothesis that the initial consonant cluster of the earlier form of σά κος was not */tw-/ but /ks-/.88 What would then be the linguistic relationship between the variant forms ξά κος and σά κος? A comparable and well-attested synchronic variation is provided by the pair of prepositions/preverbs ξύ ν and σύ ν. The former of these (ξύ ν) is regularly held to be an archaism and the latter (σύ ν) interpreted as a diachronic in-

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84 That is, the warrior with the misplaced, and thus excessive, μέ νος ‘battle rage’ – that rage which is turned against his own fellow warriors. 85 The second-century CE author Polyaenus, in Strategemata, identifies a Scythian king, king of the Saka, an enemy of Darius, to whom he gives the name Σακεσφά ρης, a name that has been etymologized as derived from Old Persian and Scythian spara ‘shield’ (Justi 1895:511). 86 On the matter of the “authenticity” of Hesiodic authorship of the work, see Nagy 1990, 79. 87 See, inter alia, Chantraine 1968:985, with references. 88 Which is not marked with an asterisk in the framework of the present discussion, as we are exploring the hypothesis that hακεσάνδρō spells ξακεσάνδρō and thus attests the form ξά κος.

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novation89 – that is, as a reflex of a primitive Greek * ξύ ν that evolved by phonological modification of the world-initial cluster.90 Attested σύ ν is characteristic of early Attic and amply evidenced in Ionic, regularly so by the derived ξυνό ς ‘common’ (i.e. κοινό ς);91 the Attic-Ionic forms are both antedated by Mycenaean ku-su. Innovative σύ ν will eventually supplant the older ξύ ν and so be leveled throughout Greek, 92 though the earlier form is ubiquitously preserved in the adverb μεταξύ ‘in the midst of’ etc., compounded from μετά and ξύ ν. The word-initial consonant-cluster reduction process that can be seen at work in the evolution of ξύ ν to σύ ν (i.e. ks- > s- / #_ ) is perhaps one that does not satisfy the description of “regular” sound change in a classic Neo-Grammarian sense. That is to say, the change may not extend in antiquity to all Greek lexemes displaying an immediate phonetic context similar to that of ξύ ν. If, for example, the crucial phonological domain of the operation of this sound change were identified as a word-initial sequence of /ksu + sonorant93/, then the change would fail to occur in (“content” [on which, see below]) words such as the following: ξύ λον ‘wood’ and its derivatives; ξυλαμή ‘a sowing’; and ξυρό ν ‘razor’ and its derivatives.94 If then the word-initial sequence /ksu + sonorant/ is an appropriately identified target for the operation of the sound change at work in the evolution of σύ ν from ξύ ν, then the limiting of that diachronic process to the lexeme ξύ ν is clearly an example of a phonological change targeting a “function word,” as opposed to a “content word”.95 Function words have been shown to experience sound changes that do not occur generally in content words (or, oppositely, to be more resistant to such changes). 96 Such selectivity of the target form is an element of so-called lexical diffusion.97, 98

_____ 89 See, inter alia, Schwyzer 1959, 2, 487 and Chantraine 1968, 767–768, with references. For an opposing view, see Dunkel 1982. 90 See, inter alia, Lejeune 1972, 73. 91 Buck 1955, 108. 92 Nearly exclusively used in Attic by 378 BCE; see, inter alia, Thumb/Scherer 1959, 296 and, especially, Threatte 1980, 554. 93 That is to say, a liquid or a nasal. 94 From the verb ξύ ω ‘to scratch’, which provides many other derivative forms; see Chantraine 1968, 768–769. 95 See, for example, Philips 1983. 96 On phonological change and function words in Greek, see Woodard 2012; Devine/ Stephens 1994, 291–303. 97 A sufficiently broad notion of lexical diffusion would entail that sound change proceeds selectively through the lexicon of a language; if the change continues so as to affect all lexemes providing the critical input for the sound change, then “regular” (Neo-Grammarian) sound change will have occurred at the end. 98 If, however, the crucial context for the phonological change operative in the evolution of ξύ ν to σύ ν were more narrowly specified as one entailing the word-initial sequence /ksun-/,

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The picture painted just above is, however, clearly not adequate. On the one hand, the change of word-initial /ks-/ to /s-/ is locally evidenced for broader phonetic contexts. The instances are numerous. For example, there is the case of Old Iranian *xšaθra-pā- (seen in Old Persian xšaθra-pāvan-) ‘protector of the province’, that is ‘satrap’, which was borrowed into Greek.99 The familiar form σατρά πης must have evolved out of a loanword that preserved the word-initial Iranian consonant cluster /xš-/ as /ks-/. Thus, Theopompus of Chios (fourth century BCE) knows the word as ἐξατρά πης (fr. 103) – attested only slightly later than Herodotus’ σατραπηί η (Historiae 1.192 and 3.89), with the cluster reduced to /s/. In addition, the fragments of Arrian (second century CE) repeatedly employ ξατρά πης, along with ξατραπεί α ‘satrapy’ and ξατραπεύ ω ‘to be a satrap’.100 The potential relevance of the case of borrowed Iranian * xšaθra-pā- for an early form ξά κος is significant. Let us consider some other examples. According to Hesychius (Σ, 1303), the Paphians call an ἀξί νη (‘ax-head, ax’) a σό ανα: the Cypriot form can been plausibly linked via initial cluster reduction to ξέ ω ‘to carve’, ξό ανον ‘woodcarved image’ etc.;101 ἀξί νη itself is likely a borrowing from Semitic – compare Assyrian ḫaṣṣinnu etc.102 From older Attic, in which system ξύ ν is best attested, there is evidence of sporadic deletion of /k/ from the cluster /ks/: for example, in an early fifth-century graffito one finds the spelling Φιλοσσ̣έ νο for Φιλοξέ νου, with the geminate expression /ss/ for /ks/ reminding us of Hesiod’s φερεσσακέ ας at Shield 13; from the same period, one sees Καλλιξέ νοι spelled Καλλισέ νοι.103 From ca. 333/332 BCE comes Attic σύ λινα for ξύ λινα ‘wooden’; in the third and second centuries are found forms such as Ἐρσιγέ νης for Ἐρξιγέ νης; Ἀλεσά νδρ[ου for Ἀλεξά νδρου; Σέ νων for Ξέ νων.104 There is clearly a certain phonological tentativeness that characterizes the cluster /ks/ in Greek, leading to sporadic modification of the sequence in still other ways. Thus, the word-initial cluster is reduced not to /s/ but to /k/ in the case of Elean κύ λλα for σκύ λαξ ‘puppy’ (Hesychius Κ 4505). In a fifth-century in-

_____ then a case could be made for the change being one not limited to the function word ξύ ν. The rarity of words beginning with the sequence /ksun-/ in the lexicon of ancient Greek complicates the picture. 99 Noted by Schmidt (2007, 137); see also Schmidt 1976. 100 1,35; 1,36; 24,230r,10; 24,230r,16; 24,230r17; 24,230r,20; 24,230v,12; 25,235r,4; 25,235r,6; 25,235r,9. 101 Kretschmer 1893, 419. 102 Szemerényi 1974, 149; see also CAD 6, 133–134. 103 Threatte 1980, 551 (with references); the spellings Καλί σεν[ος and Κλαλί σενος also occur. 104 See Threatte 1980, 552, with references.

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scription from Argos, we find the form ξύ λλομαι105 for the verb that is elsewhere attested as συλά ω ‘to plunder’; compare σκῦλα ‘spoils taken from an enemy’ (and related terms). Between these forms (i.e ξύ λλομαι, συλά ω, σκῦλα), we see the word-initial variation /ks-/ ~ /s-/ ~ /sk-/, exhibiting evidence of not only cluster reduction by loss of /k/ but of metathesis.106 The latter phenomenon is otherwise attested with regard to the /ks/ cluster, as seen, for example, in the central Ionic proper name Σχενηρετος for Ξενηρετος (graffito from Ceos, ca. second quarter of the fifth century BCE;)107 also Attic Σκονθο̃ ν for Ξανθῶν (on a vase by Psiax; later sixth century BCE)108 and εὐ]σχάμενος for εὐξά μενος ‘having prayed’ (ca. late sixth century BCE). 109 Here also belong σκί φος for ξί φος ‘sword’,110 an Aeolicism, according to a scholiast on Dionysius Thrax (Scholia Londinensia 504),111 as well as σκιφί ας for ξιφί ας ‘swordfish’; 112 σκιφί ζω for ξιφί ζω ‘to dance the sword dance’;113 and σκιφύ δριον for ξιφύ δριον, a diminutive of σκί φος.114 This tendency to modify /ks/ clusters receives a particular expression in a “regular” (in a Neo-Grammarian sense) sound change of Greek. When two stops produced at the same point of articulation immediately surround /s/, the first of those stops will be lost, through a process of dissimilation: thus, */ksk/ becomes /sk/.115 For example, *λακ-σκω becomes λά σκω ‘to crash; to scream’; *διδακ-σκω becomes διδά σκω ‘to teach’; *δικ-σκος becomes δί σκος ‘quoit’; *ϝικσκω becomes ἴσκω ‘to make like’. Relatedly, and more sporadically, the dissimilation of a word-initial velar consonant when followed by a second velar within a word appears to occur: for instance, in reduplicated perfect formations such as Ionic ἔκτημαι beside Attic κέ κτημαι ‘to acquire’; Cretan and Elean ἔγραμμαι for γέ γραμμαι ‘to scratch; to write’; and pan-dialectal ἔγνωκα for *γεγνωκα.116

_____ 105 Syll. 56.3. 106 The etymology of συλά ω is judged to be obscure (see Chantraine 1968, 1069–1070). On a process of metathesis linking σκῦλα and συλά ω, see Schwyzer 1959, 1, 329 and Ruipérez 1947, 67–68. 107 LSAG 306 and pl. 57.47. 108 Threatte 1980, 20–21; Immerwahr 1971, 55; see also Immerwahr 1990, 58. 109 Threatte 1980, 21; Lejeune 1972, 73. 110 Herodian Περὶ ὀρθογραφί ας 3,2.582; Hesychius Σ 1036; Suda Σ 632; Scholia in Iliadem (scholia vetera) 1.220 (where the two forms are said to be derived from σκί πτω). 111 See also Scholia Vaticana 203. 112 Epicharmus fr. 58; Hesychius Σ 1033. 113 Hesychius Σ 1034. 114 Epicharmus fr.42; used to identify a kind of shellfish. 115 See, inter alia, Buck 1933, 153; Lejeune 1972, 67; Woodard 1997, 115–116. 116 See, inter alia, Brugmann/Thumb 1913, 157–158; Buck 1955, 110–111.

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The set of processes, regular and sporadic, described in the preceding paragraphs are not unique to velar consonant configurations, but are shared by bilabials.117 Thus – briefly and in reverse order – dissimilation of the first of two bilabials appears to be evidenced in, for example, the perfect stem form ἐβλά στηκα beside βεβλά στηκα ‘to bud, sprout’.118 The first bilabial stop in a sequence */psp/ regularly dissimilates to yield /sp/: thus, *βλαπσ-φᾱμος becomes βλά σφημος ‘evil-speaking’.119 Metathesis of /ps/ to /sp/ can be seen in Attic σφυχη for ψυχή (ca. 500 BCE); 120 σπέ λλιον for ψέ λλιον ‘armlet’ is again said to be Aeolic.121 Reduction of the word-initial cluster /ps-/ to /s-/ can be seen122 as, for example, in ψοί θης ‘vagabond; imposter’123 beside σοί θης.124 As with the reduction of word-initial /ks-/ to /s-/ in the case of the loanword σατρά πης (Iranian *xšaθra-pā-), so ψιττακό ς ‘parrot’, a term of eastern provenience first attested by Aristotle (Historia animalium 597b)125 and Callimachus (fr. 192), alternates with reduced σιττακό ς, the form known by Philodemus in the first century BCE and used by, among others, Arrian (who, recall, preserves the unreduced ξατρά πης) in his Historia Indica (15.8).126 A second such case is provided by ψά γδας, term denoting an Egyptian unguent (of Egyptian origin127), which is also attested as

_____ 117 In Mycenaean Greek there is a process of dissimilation evidenced that entails both velarity and labiality. The sequence /{*kw, kw} … kw/ can become /p … kw/. Thus, at Thebes the word for ‘horse feeders’ is spelled i-qo-po-qo-i (dative case), in other words hikwo-phorgwoihi; at Pylos, however, the form shows a dissimilated variant i-po-po-qo-i (dative case), that is hippophorgwoihi. Also at Pylos one finds the proper name spelled qe-re-qo-ta-o, while at Knossos, and at Pylos as well, the name appears to have undergone dissimilation to pe-re-qo-ta. An hypothesized change of /ksakos/ to /sakos/ word-initially but to /–ssakos/ word-internally (i.e. intervocalically – the sort of development seen in Hesiod’s φερεσσακέ ας; and, again, compare Attic Φιλοσσ̣έ νο for Φιλοξέ νου) would to a degree parallel this Mycenaean dissimilation: in the case of Mycenaean hikwo-phorgwoihi becoming hippo-phorgwoihi, the cluster /kw/ likewise gave rise to a geminate cluster, i.e. /pp/, being word internal. In other words, in each instance, when the cluster occurs across a syllable boundary the outcome is itself a cluster and so syllable weight is preserved. 118 Brugmann/Thumb 1913, 157–158. 119 Buck 1933, 153. 120 Lejeune 1972, 73; Brugmann/Thumb 1913, 158; see also Threatte 1980, 21. 121 Scholia on Dionysius Thrax, Scholia Londinensia 504. 122 See, inter alia, Kretschmer 1893:420–421. 123 Hesychius Ψ 241; Theognostus De orthographia 142; Photius Ψ 655.20; Suda Ψ 143. 124 Hesychius Σ 1315; seemingly also attested as σκοί θης; Hesychius Σ 1052. 125 Aristotle calls the creature τὸ Ἰνδικὸν ὄρνεον ‘the Indic bird’. Pliny (10.117) too identifies the source of the bird as India, naming it siptacē. 126 A form βί ττακος is attested by Ctesias (fr. 45), Athenaeus (Deipnosophistae 2.65e), and Photius (Β 319). 127 Chantraine 1968, 1283.

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σά γδας. The former (having the cluster /ps/) earliest occurs in fr. 198 of the fifth-century comic poet Eupolis and in Aristophanes fr. 206, and not long after in fr. 102 of Eubulus; the latter variant (with the cluster reduced to /s/) occurs in fr. 1 of Epilycus, another comic poet, of uncertain date (fifth/ fourth century?).128 Grammarians and lexicographers draw attention to the variants.129 We have just witnessed that the change of Greek /ks/ to /s/, regularly wordinternally and sporadically in word-initial position, is robustly attested. Thus, the reduction of the initial cluster of a form ξά κος to yield a form σά κος would be fully consistent with demonstrated historical phonological developments of ancient Greek. We have observed such a cluster-reduction process operating on loanwords. We noted above that Homer’s description of Ajax’s σά κος and that warrior’s use of it to shield the archer Teucer is consistent with the picture of Assyrian armament and warfare attested as early as the period of Shalmaneser III (mid ninth century BCE). Others have drawn attention to the decidedly Near Eastern nature of this practice that the Greek epic poet portrays; for example, Kirk writes: Leaf was right to describe these tactics as ‘characteristically oriental’; Lorimer, HM 183, agreed …. She also observed, p. 197, that Teukros is shown by 325 as using the oriental (i.e. Scythian and Assyrian) draw to the shoulder, but denied that he necessarily crouches. This is not entailed by the mother-and-child simile of 271 … but seems probable nevertheless.130

If the equipment and practice described are of Near Eastern origin, then one could reasonably anticipate that the name of the crucial implement, σά κος, likely came to the Greeks from the Near East along with the implement that it names and the strategies employed with that implement. This would almost certainly not be the only name of a tool of war that the Greeks acquired from the Near East. The term for ‘sword’ that we examined above, ξί φος, with its cluster-altered variant σκί φος, appears to have such a loan origin. If so, the borrowing occurred early enough for ξί φος to be preserved in the Mycenaean corpus, in which one finds the spelling qi-si-pe-e, i.e. kwsiphee ‘two swords’ (Pylos tablet Ta716). The use of a Linear B labiovelar syllabogram (qi) for spelling the first consonant of the word-initial cluster /ks-/, rather than a velar syllabogram (i.e. ki), is curious and interesting. The spelling might rea-

_____ 128 The variation between the forms employed by these comic poets are reflections of the dialogues of Athenaeus Deipnosophistae 15.690e and 691c. 129 Thus, Herodian Περὶ ὀρθογραφί ας 3,2.578; Hesychius Σ 24 and Ψ 1; see also Photius Σ 495, 19. 130 Kirk 1990, 321. The reference to Leaf is Leaf 1900–02 and to Lorimer is Lorimer 1950.

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sonably be construed as a Mycenaean Greek attempt to represent phonetically (in conjunction with the syllabogram si) a non-Greek consonant, one characterized by some type of secondary articulation (i.e. a secondary articulation that is distinct from the labiality associated with the Mycenaean Greek labiovelar stops). For ξί φος one commonly encounters an etymology that grounds the term in a borrowing of Egyptian sēfet ‘sword’ (“depuis Spielgelberg, KZ, 1907, 127…”131), derived from the verb root meaning ‘to cut, to butcher’. However, already in Muss-Arnolt 1892:141 (and, in fact, earlier132), one encounters the claim that the borrowing is from Semitic, with ξίφος being likened to Aramaic sayp, saypā ‘sword’,133 which, in the view expressed by Muss-Arnolt, is itself borrowed from Egyptian sēfet.134 Aramaic sayp / saypā shows various Semitic comparanda: Murtonen characterizes the Semitic root, SYP, as a Kulturwort (a Wanderwort must be intended) of Egyptian origin, noting that the Egyptian noun is attested only in the Twelfth Dynasty (ca. 1963–1786 BCE), but that the verb root is found earlier.135 The Twelfth Dynasty is the period during which the Asian Hyksos began to appear in Egypt in significant numbers. These Hyksos are said to have introduced an improved variety of sword (and other weaponry) into Egypt136 (augmenting the traditional Egyptian sickle sword, the khepesh). Was Egyptian sēfet transported back into southwest Asia as the name attached to the implement with the expulsion of the Hyksos during the time of the Eighteenth Dynasty (ca. 1550–1295 BCE)? Quite possibly, in light of the Semitic lexical evidence. If so, Mycenaean forays into Syria-Palestine137 could certainly be the route by which the term entered the Greek lexicon. The prospect of an immediate Semitic source for ξί φος is intriguing in light of the Linear B spelling qi-si-pe-e. The initial sound of Aramaic sayp is spelled with the letter samek, the Phoenician form of which is the symbol that the Greek adapters of the Phoenician writing system used to create the Greek letter xi (i.e. the Greek adapters assigned to Phoenician samek the value /k + s/). The use of

_____ 131 Chantraine 1968:766; see Chantraine for additional references. 132 For the Aramaic etymon, Muss-Arnolt cites “H. L. Fleischer in Levy’s ‘Chald. Wörterbuch,’ II. 570, b; Schrader2, 329–30; Pott2, II. 369; F. Müller in Kuhn’s Beiträge, II 491; Savelsberg, KZ. 16,7.” 133 On the Aramaic lexeme, see The Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon (http://cal1.cn.huc. edu/). 134 Though Muss-Arnolt ultimately advocates for an Indo-European etymology – a view that seems for the most part to have been abandoned. 135 See Murtonen 1997, 299. 136 See Hayes 1973, 57. 137 On which, see, inter alia, Blegen 1975, 181–187; Dalley/Reyes 1998, 88–92, both with references.

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alphabetic xi in spelling Greek ξί φος, if originally a borrowing of a secondmillennium Canaanite term corresponding to later Aramaic sayp, would thus be consistent with the first-millennium adaptive alphabetic procedure. The Greek assignment of the value /k + s/ to borrowed samek must have been to a significant degree an arbitrary procedure, but motivated to the extinct that the value of Phoenician (and Hebrew) samek, at the time of the devising of the Greek alphabet, was almost certainly not /s/, as it later would be, but a phonemic unit characterized by a secondary articulation, something like /ky/ or /tš/ (i.e. /č/).138 The arbitrary aspect of this first-millennium alphabetic adaptive procedure is foregrounded by the second-millennium Linear B use of not a velar symbol for spelling /k/ but of a labiovelar symbol, representing a sound of Greek with its own secondary articulation, /kw/, to encode – in a less arbitrary, more phonetically revealing manner – the initial sound of the earlier Canaanite form of Aramaic sayp (i.e. a Linear B spelling for something like /č/), if indeed the source of ξί φος is to be so identified. Given this interpretation, the eventual alphabetic spelling of ξί φος with xi would likely reflect a continued exposure of Greek speakers to a form of the Semitic etymon – such as the Phoenician or Aramaic sayp. What this scenario in effect entails is an alphabetic Greek spelling of the Semitic term that is consistent with the deliberate process of adapting the Phoenician script for Greek use – in other words, a “learned” borrowing with an “orthographically-informed” transcription of the initial samek of the Semitic spelling.139 The transcription of Semitic pe by phi must date to a period after the introduction of the so-called supplemental Greek letters.140 With σά κος / ξά κος we are again dealing with piece of military equipment, one that is demonstrably paralleled in morphology and usage by a type of protective device utilized by the Assyrian army, as we saw above. If an hypothe-

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138 See Woodard 1997, 156, 184, 187, 200n180. On the evidence for the value of Canaanite samek, see McCarter 1975, 98n83, and, for recent discussion, Kogan 2011, 67–68. I am grateful to John Huehnergard for bringing Kogan’s discussion to my attention. 139 The linguistic milieu of this process would have been a somewhat complex one. Greeks operating in the eastern Mediterranean in the early first millennium BCE would almost surely have been exposed to both Phoenician (and Hebrew?) and Aramaic forms of this term for ‘sword’. One might envision a context in which Greeks were employed as mercenary warriors in the service of Aramaean city-states and /or the Neo-Assyrian empire. On the Neo-Assyrian use of Aramaic (as early as the beginning of the ninth century BCE), see, inter alia, Lemaire 2006, 179–182 and Streck 2011, 416–424. On Aramaic scribes in the Assyrian army, see Streck 2001, 79 and 90n2. Consider the Biblical account of the Assyrian monarch Sennacherib’s siege of Jerusalem (701 BCE) in 2 Kings 18:17–37 (also Isaiah 36:4–22): envoys of king Hezekiah of Judah entreat Assyrian officials to converse with them in Aramaic so that the people of Jerusalem (Hebrew speakers) would not be able to understand the dialogue. 140 On which, see Woodard 1997, especially 145–147, 157–159, 206–207, 214–216.

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sized form ξά κος were (also) acquired from Semitic, then, as in the case of ξί φος within such a scenario, one might search for a possible donor Semitic term that is likewise spelled with an initial samek. The most likely candidate would appear to be a nominal derivative of the Semitic root attested in Hebrew as SKK ‘to screen, to cover, to protect’. A Hebrew nominal derivative of the root appears in the Biblical book of the seventh-century prophet Nahum, in the prophet’s description of his vision of the sack of the Assyrian capital of Nineveh (2:1–11). Among numerous references to the devices and arms of the participant armies,141 one finds in 2.6 the (seeming142) hapax legomenon sōkēk, which denotes a piece of shielding equipment: Christensen identifies it with the very same large, rectangular Assyrian shield-types that we discussed above, and illustrates the sōkēk using images from a subset of the Assyrian reliefs that we invoked in that discussion.143 Citing Cathcart, Christensen calls attention to a parallel, supportive use of the verb (SKK) at Psalm 140:8, modifying the former’s translation per a suggestion made by David Noel Freedman: thus, “Yahweh, my Lord, my fortress of safety, has sheltered my head in the day of arms.”144 Taking this line of inquiry to the next step – if a nominal derivative of the Semitic root SKK denoting ‘shield’ were adopted in a context of Greek warrior presence in Assyrian military involvements in Syria-Palestine in ca. ninth / early eighth century BCE, how might this term have been rendered in Greek – or, more accurately, how might such a borrowing have been given an orthographic representation within the medium of the emerging Greek alphabet? There is commonly a certain inexactitude that accompanies attempts to identify borrowings in antiquity, let alone in trying project the form that a hypothesized loanword might take in the adopting language. With that realization in hand … one might suspect that a nominal derivative of SKK could be adopted and “Hellenically alphabetized” as something like (without specifying the spelling of the root vowels) ξVκVξ or ξVκ(V)κος. At this point it may be helpful to compare with τὸ σά κος / ξά κος the at-times homophonous Greek lexeme that is practically ubiquitously characterized as a loan from Phoenician,145 ὁ σά κκος (said to be the “Doric” form) or ὁ σά κος (said to be the “Attic” form), denoting ‘coarse, hairy cloth’; ‘sack [made from such cloth]’; ‘a course beard’. The hypothesized Phoe-

_____ 141 See the discussions in Christensen 2009, 253–308. 142 Though compare the mysterious references to “guardian cherub” denoted by a nominal derivative of SKK at Ezekiel 28:14, 17 (Septuagintal τὸ χερού β), in the prophetic lament of Tyre, which Halder (1947, 51–52) translates as ‘overshadowing one’. 143 Christensen 2009, 283. 144 See Cathcart 1973, 95. 145 See, inter alia, Masson 1967, 24–25, with references to earlier works.

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nician etymon of σά κκος / σά κος is not attested, but various Semitic cognates of such a proposed form are: thus, one finds Aramaic saq, saqqā ‘sack, sackcloth’;146 Hebrew śaq ‘sack, sackcloth’, from an assumed root *ŚQQ;147 Akkadian (Old Babylonian, Old Assyrian, Mari, Neo-Babylonian) saqqu ‘sack’.148 Regarding τὸ σά κος ‘shield’, the heavy replication of velarity in a borrowed concatenation ξVκVξ or ξVκ(V)κος (from SKK) might well augment the requisite sporadic consonantal changes – that is, in the evolution from a form such as *ξακοξ or *ξακκος to ξά κος / σά κος (with the same degemination of /kk/ to /k/ seen in ὁ σά κος ‘sack’). For the phonological acculturation of a Semitic syllabic structure CVCVC to a Greek CVCCος, consider Greek κύ προς ‘henna’, which is judged to be a borrowing of Semitic kōper (Hebrew; also in Aramaic); 149 compare νά βλα / νά βλας, denoting a stringed instrument, from Semitic nēbel. The shield term would likely have been acquired by Greeks present in a Near Eastern military context in Syria-Palestine. The Euboeans appear to have constituted a significant element of such a Greek presence in the eastern Mediterranean in the ninth and tenth centuries BCE. By this analysis of hακεσάνδρō, a non-cluster-reduced form of the borrowed term ξά κος would have been preserved in a particular Euboean context, to emerge in the documentary record of late eighth- / early seventh-century Methone. Aside from hακεσάνδρō, the initial word of the graffito etched on the skyphos ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2), the only lexeme that can be read with some degree of certainty is the verb στερε̄ σ[ετ]α̣ι. Greek στερέ ω ‘to rob; to deprive’ is of uncertain origin. The verb makes its first attested appearance in Homeric epic, at Odyssey 13.262–263, as the trickster Odysseus tells a disguised Athena that he killed Orsilochus because the Cretan με στερέ σαι τῆς ληΐδος ἤθελε πά σης | Τρωιά δος ‘wanted to rob me of all my Trojan plunder’. This is Homer’s only use of the verb; its next literary occurrences are in Pindar’s Nemean Odes 8 and in several of Aeschylus’ tragedies. Considering Pindar first, we read in Nemean Odes 8 26–27: κρυφί αισι γὰρ ἐν ψά φοις Ὀδυσσῆ Δαναοὶ θερά πευσαν· χρυσέ ων δ’ Αἴας στερηθεὶς ὅπλων φό νῳ πά λαισεν. For with secret votes the Danaans preferred Odysseus; and Ajax, robbed of the golden armor, wrestled with violent death.

_____ 146 147 148 149

The Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon (http://cal1.cn.huc.edu). So Brown/Driver/Briggs 1976, 974. CAD 15, 168–169. Masson 1967, 52–53.

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Pindar here is using the example of the horrific suicide of the σά κος-bearing Ajax, when he was denied the armor of the slain Achilles, to prove the point that a brave heart may be no match for a skillful tongue, like that one possessed by Odysseus (8.23–25): κεῖνος καὶ Τελαμῶνος δά ψεν υἱό ν, φασγά νῳ ἀμφικυλί σαις. ἦ τιν’ ἄγλωσσον μέ ν, ἦτορ δ’ ἄλκιμον, λά θα κατέ χει ἐν λυγρῷ νεί κει· μέ γιστον δ’ αἰό λῳ ψεύ δει γέ ρας ἀντέ ταται. And that very thing [i.e. envy] devoured the son of Telamon, when it rolled him on his sword. Surely, the one without a tongue, though he be stout of heart – oblivion takes him in the [word-]weaving150 struggle; and the greatest prize of honor is offered to nimble deceit.

It is the sort of sentiment that one might well expect to be at home and extolled in a proto-sympotic setting at which oratorical flourish is on display, and naturally enough inscribed on a wine vessel employed on such an occasion – the kind of setting equally appropriate to the graffito from Euboean Pithekoussai etched on the skyphos dubbed the cup of Nestor:151 Νεστορος : ε[στ]ι : ευποτ[ον] : ποτε̄ ριον hος δ’ α τōδε πιε̄ σι : ποτε̄ ρι[ō] : αυτικα κε̄ νον hιμερος hαιρε̄ σει : καλλιστε[φα]νō : Αφροδιτε̄ ς Nestor’s cup is good to drink from; But he who drinks from this cup, forthwith him Will seize desire of fair-garlanded Aphrodite

_____ 150 A more typical translation of λυγρό ς would be ‘baneful’ – as usually, for example, in Homer’s only mention of writing, the λυγρὰ σή ματα of Bellerophon in Iliad 6.168–169. Here I suggest a thematic adjective in –ρο- formed from a Greek root λυγ-, which fundamentally signifies a notion of intertwining as seen in λύ γος ‘withe’ (i.e. intertwined branches or shoots), from Proto-Indo-European *leug- ‘to bend’ (as in, inter alia, Latin luctārī ‘to wrestle’, referring to the intertwining of the limbs of wrestlers). For λύ γος see Woodard 2014, §§6.2.1; 6.2.2; and 6.2.3; λυγρό ς as an adjective ‘intertwining’ (homophonous with λυγρό ς ‘baneful, deadly’), particularly in the context of utterance production, will be treated in a future work. 151 The restoration and translation is that of Watkins 1976.

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Aeschylus’ employment of στερέ ω is in keeping with what we have thus far observed: it is used to signify a loss suffered in conjunction with a violent, homicidal event, including war. At Persians 579–580 στερηθεί ς is used of the Persian home ‘robbed’ of its master, casualty of Xerxes’ failed invasion of Greece. In the Agamemnon (1530–1531), following Clytemnestra’s brutal homicide of her husband, the Chorus sings of φροντίδος στερηθεὶς | εὐπά λαμον μέ ριμναν ‘having been robbed of cunning care for calculation’ – the Chorus is in a state of panic and does not know which way to turn. In the Eumenides (755), when Orestes is acquitted of the blood-guilt of Clytemnestra’s murder, he praises Apollo for restoring him after πατρώιας ἐστερημέ νον ‘having been robbed of [my] homeland’. The verb’s use in Prometheus vinctus is no less consistent, as Prometheus speaks prophetically of the fate of the sons of Aegyptus who shall be slain by the Danaids (862–863): γυνὴ γὰρ ἄνδρ’ ἕκαστον αἰῶνος στερεῖ δίθηκτον ἐν σφαγαῖσι βά ψασα ξί φος. A woman shall rob each man of his life when she’s dyed a two-edged sword in his gore.

Euripides makes frequent use of στερέ ω (thirty-two occurrences). We see it notably at Helena 95: Teucer has declared to Helen that his father Telamon (‘Shield Strap’) has banished him from his homeland because of the death of his brother, Ajax, at Troy, to which she responds: πῶς; οὔ τί που σῷ φασγά νῳ βί ου στερεί ς; ‘How? Surely he [i.e. Ajax] wasn’t somehow robbed of life by your sword?’ This instance is somewhat marked among Euripides’ usages of στερέ ω, as only here and at Hecuba 338 is the verb used with βί ου as its object – in this latter case, as Hecuba begs Polyxena to plead for her life as the Greeks prepare to sacrifice her. Compare with these, the verb’s use at Heraclidae 807: a servant rehearses to Alcmena the challenge issued by Hyllus to Eurystheus for one-toone combat, referring to the prospect of Mycenae ‘having been robbed of a man’ (ἀνδρὸς στερή σας). Στερέ ω will likewise govern ἀνδρό ς in another scene of carnage, though not combat, at Hippolytus 1460, in which passage Theseus, grieving the loss of his son, declares to the boundaries of Pallas οἵου στερή σεσθ’ ἀνδρό ς ‘what a man you have been robbed of!’. Here, at Hippolytus 1460, as above, at Helena 95, the object of the robbing is a family member – Hippolytus and Ajax – a family member of a participant in the dialogue who is deemed responsible (if not permanently) for the violent loss of that family member – Theseus (father) and Teucer (brother). These instances are thematically consistent with the great majority of usages of στερέ ω in the tragedies of Euripides to the extent that the object of the verb most commonly denotes a family member of

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whom one has been robbed: child,152 mother,153 father,154 wife,155 husband;156 sibling.157 The robbed object is twice specified as a martial element: Agamemnon’s potential loss of command of the army at Iphigenia Aulidensis 357, and Menelaus’ loss of his war ships together with the clone of his wife at Helena 875. Twice individuals are depicted as having been robbed, consequent to war and violent death, of advantages that accompanied a previous social status: Hecuba of her φρό νημα ‘proud spirit’ at Hecuba 623 and Electra of her robes at Electra 308. Finally, in the Electra (736), Euripides uses στερέ ω in relating the tale of how the lands of Ammon were robbed of rain – consequence of Zeus’s displeasure with Thyestes. Sophocles’ surviving works preserve fewer uses of στερέ ω than do those of the younger Euripides (eleven in total). In Oedipus Tyrannus (771), application of the verb goes in a somewhat different direction than we have just seen, governing a more abstract object: Sophocles uses it of one being robbed of an idea – of the terrible idea that Oedipus is the slayer of Laius. Generally, however, Sophocles’ use of the verb shows fundamental conformity to the patterns that are more clearly revealed in Euripides’ tragedies. Thus, a family member is the expressed object of στερέ ω in the following occurrences: a (prospective) wife, Antigone, at Antigone 574 – and compare here the Chorus of Elder’s declaration that Creon has robbed it of Ismene and Antigone at Oedipus Coloneus 857 – and siblings at Oedipus Coloneus 1443 and Antigone 13. With a slight deflection from this – at Electra 1210, the namesake of the tragedy laments that she would be wretched if she were robbed of the urn (signified by ταφή ) that she imagines to contain the ashes of her brother, whom she believes to be dead. At Trachiniae 177, Deianira fears of having been robbed of her husband, though the object of the verb is not denoted as such, but as πά ντων ἀρίστου φωτό ς ‘the greatest man of all’: her dread stems from an oracular message that Heracles had received at Dodona, but is framed, much as in the cases of Euripides’ use of στερέ ω to govern the object ἀνδρό ς ‘man’, by a scene of carnage – Heracles’ war with the Euboean king Eurytus for Iole. Sophocles extends the application of στερέ ω to

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152 Alcestis 622; Andromache 1212; Helena 847; Hercules 1401; Iphigenia Aulidensis 889, 1203; Medea 1036; Phoenissae 1206, 1263; Supplices 793. 153 Medea 1023; Phoenissae 988. 154 Bacchae 1363; Orestes 587. 155 Alcestis 200, 227; Andromache 981; Helena 840; Hippolytus 838 (expressed metonymically as the loss of ὁμιλί α ‘social intercourse). Also see Helena 875 in the text below. 156 Fr. 454 (Cresphontes); Medea 286 (loss of sexual intimacy with a husband). 157 Iphigenia Taurica 474 (where the object is οἵων … διπτύ χων νεανιῶν ‘such a pair of young men’, brothers of an imagined sister); 1058 (where the loss of a brother is paired with the loss of a homeland).

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φί λοι of which one might be robbed at fr. 863.1. Much as Euripides writes of Electra seeing herself as living in jeopardy of being robbed of her very robes in her recently acquired peasant existence (Electra 308), so Sophocles depicts her in dialogue with Chrysothemis concerning being robbed ‘of paternal wealth’ (πλού του πατρῴου) at Electra 960. Sophocles does not use the lexeme βί ος ‘life’ as the object of στερέ ω but, nevertheless, twice employs the verb to signal the notion of one being robbed of life. In the Antigone (890), Creon declares, as Antigone is about to be carried away to be entombed, that she will be robbed of her μετοικί α ‘sojourn’ in the above-ground world. Most interestingly, the verb makes an appearance in Sophocles’ Ajax: at line 511 the Phrygian concubine Tecmessa pleads with Ajax not to commit suicide, lest their son, Eurysaces (Εὐρύ σακες ‘Broad-Shield’), should be robbed of τροφή ‘a nurturing upbringing’ and become a slave to other men. While Euripides uses στερέ ω of the suicidal robbing of the life of Ajax, Sophocles uses it of the robbing of Ajax’s living presence that his suicide will bring. The literary/semantic patterns of use of στερέ ω that are revealed by the tragedians echo in the work of fifth-century prose authors. Three times in his Historiae Herodotus uses στερέ ω of one being robbed of a family member – twice of a son (1.46 and 6.71) and once of a father (3.124). In the first of these instances (1.46), Herodotus is describing the grief of Croesus at the loss of his son, killed in a hunting accident by Adrastus, who then himself commits suicide at the tomb of his victim. The second is merely a statement of the Spartan king Leutychides’ loss of his son Zeuxidemus, also called Cyniscus (‘Little Hound’ – also a hunting incident?158 – cf. Pausanias [3.7.10] who writes that he dies of νό σος). In the third instance, Polycrates’ daughter has a dream premonition of being robbed of her father: Polycrates was subsequently murdered in some unspeakably horrific way by Oroetes and his body crucified. Herodotus four times uses the verb to describe persons robbed of a former status. Thus, Adrastus had come to live with Croesus when he had been banished by his father, the Phrygian king Gordias, for the unwillful murder of his own brother: Adrastus describes himself as (1.35) ἐστερημέ νος πά ντων ‘being robbed of everything’. At 3.65, στερέ ω is used of Cambyses having been robbed of his sovereignty as was foretold in a dream vision; he killed his brother in an attempt to thwart the prediction, but to no avail. At 7.3, Herodotus uses στερέ ω of Demaratus having been robbed of his sovereignty in Sparta – a matter of contested paternity that put Leutychides on the throne. And fourth, Gorgus, king of the Cyprian city of Salamis, refused to revolt with the Ionians against Persia; as a consequence, his

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158 On his descendent Cynisca and possible hunting, as well as racing, affiliations, see Pomeroy 2002, 21–22.

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brother Onesilus took the throne, and Gorgus fled to the Medes, (5.104) στερηθεὶς τῆς πό λιος ‘having been robbed of his city’. In several more instances, use of the verb is explicitly framed by acts of war; thus, at 5.103, the Ionian force at Ephesus (which included five triremes of Eretrians [5.99]) is depicted as fighting with determination against the Persians, even though these Ἴωνες τῆς Ἀθηναί ων συμμαχί ης στερηθέ ντες ‘Ionians had been robbed of their Athenian allies’, who had withdrawn. Also in Book 5, Herodotus describes the revolt of the Aeginetans against the Epidaurians, during the course of which the latter were robbed of certain ἀγά λματα of the goddesses Damia and Auxesia (5.84); when an Athenian force tried to remove these violently from the Aeginetans, the Athenians were inflicted with an altered mental state (ἀλλοφρονέ ω) that led to their mutual homicide, save one man (5.85). At 9.50, Herodotus describes the Greek army as being robbed of water by the Persians prior to the battle of Plataea. At 8.29 the Thessalians, allied with the Persians, tell the Phocians that they, the Thessalians, have sufficient power with the barbarian as to be able to rob the Phocians of their land. When the Spartan delegation addresses the Athenians later in Book 8, the point is made that the latter have been robbed καρπῶν διξῶν ‘of two harvests’ (142) at the hands of the Persians. Again within a narrative frame of warring states, at 3.157, Herodotus describes the ghastly selfinflicted disfigurement of the Persian Zopyrus, who presented himself to the rebelling Babylonians as ῥινό ς τε καὶ ὤτων ἐστερημέ νος ‘one robbed of nose and ears’, in order to make them believe that he had been tortured by the Persians and so gain Babylonian confidence thus to work treachery among them. As he rehearses the origin of the great Persian festival of the Μαγοφό νια ‘Slaying of the Magi/Magus’, Herodotus (3.78) tells how Darius and six accomplices attacked two Magi: in the fight that ensued, one of the Magi, armed with a spear, stabbed one of the Persians in the thigh and another, Intaphrenes, in the eye: the latter did not die, but ἐστερή θη … τοῦ ὀφθαλμοῦ ἐκ τοῦ τρώματος ‘he was robbed of his eye by the wound’. Similarly, at 6.117, Herodotus writes of an Athenian warrior at Marathon who was said ‘to have lost his eyes’ (τῶν ὀμμά των στερηθῆναι), that is, his vision, permanently from, seemingly, the psychological trauma of the battle: this appears to be the earliest attested instance in Greek literary tradition of στερέ ω being used to govern the noun ὄμμα. The sense of this construction recurs, but not the lexical concatenation, twice in Book 9, in which Herodotus relates the intriguing account of how Evenius of Apollonia became a great seer (9.93–94). Succinctly – while Evenius was taking his turn (as a prominent member of the community) at guarding a flock sacred to Helios, he fell asleep; and as he slept wolves entered the fold and killed some sixty of the sheep. As punishment for the loss incurred to the sacred flock, the Apollonians blinded Evenius: Herodotus states twice that he was robbed τῆς

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ὄψιος ‘of his sight’ (9.93). When the flock subsequently became infertile, inquiries were made at Dodona and Delphi: oracles revealed that the gods had willed the killing of the animals, that Evenius was wrongly blinded, and that the Apollonians must make proper compensation for his loss; beyond this, the gods endowed him with mantic powers. One is reminded of the account of a raging Ajax slaying the flocks of the Greeks after he was denied the armor of Achilles and of how afterward he would rob himself of his life. Herodotus’ one remaining use of στερέ ω is found at 3.137, where a Persian scouting party is robbed of its ἡγεμών ‘guide’. These are the eighteen occurrences of the verb στερέ ω in the Historiae of Herodotus. Thucydides uses στερέ ω thirteen times.159 In every instance it denotes loss as a consequence of war. It only deviates from imparting an expression of calamity and/or suffering at 4.64.5 where, with a sense of irony, it is applied to the two benefits (δυοῖν ἀγαθοῖν) of which Sicily should not be “robbed”: namely, being delivered from the Athenians and from war at home. The earliest poetic and prose uses of στερέ ω clearly conform to a semantic and stylistic pattern. The verb encodes chiefly a loss of life and limb, family, and possessions and status experienced within the context of traumatic event, conspicuously homicide and mass homicide, i.e. war. In its archaic uses, and later, στερέ ω reveals itself notably to be situated within a poetic nexus narrating the tragic mania and suicide of the warrior Ajax. Through an appeal to (principally) the graffito found on the so-called Ταταιε̄ ς aryballos from Cyme,160 Ταταιε̄ ς ε̄ μι λε̄ ϙυθος hος δ᾽ αν με κλεφσει θυφλος εσται I am the lekythos of Tataie; whoever steals me will go blind

the initial investigators of ΜΘ 2248 (Methone Pierias I, no. 2)161 have proposed that in the inscription of the Methone skyphos, the partially preserved (seeming) object of στερέ ω may be [ὀμ(μ)]ά τōν and that the sense of the graffito is that anyone who steals the vessel will be robbed of their eyes – in other words, that an [ὀμ(μ)]ά τōν στερε̄ σ[ετ]α̣ι at Methone equates to the θυφλος εσται of Cyme. We have seen that such a semantic concatenation involving στερέ ω does not appear until the fifth century, and then only meagerly, but still in con-

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159 1.24.5; 2.20.4; 2.62.3; 2.65.2; 3.2.3; 3.39.8; 4.20.2; 4.64.5; 4.73.3; 6.40.1; 7.27.5; 7.71.3; 8.1.2. 160 IG XIV, 865. 161 See Methone Pierias I, 342–343.

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texts of traumatic death and mania. More likely it is that στερέ ω is here construed with an object that has relevance for the proto-sympotic setting in which the cup was used – such as an inconvenient deprivation of clever words (ῥημά των ?), such as that with which Ajax was afflicted.

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Thoughts on the Initial Aspiration of HAKEΣANΔPO | 219

Christina Skelton

Thoughts on the Initial Aspiration of HAKEΣANΔPO* Christina Skelton Thoughts on the Initial Aspiration of HAKEΣANΔPO

Abstract: The form HAKEΣANΔPO, newly attested in the Methone inscriptions, supports the idea that the Greek s-stem neuter noun ἄκος ‘cure, remedy’ originally showed initial aspiration and is related to the Mycenaean forms a2-ke-te-re and ja-ke-te-re. However, the etymology of ἄκος and its connections to two Celtic forms, Irish ícc ‘healing’ and Welsh iach ‘healthy’, remain problematic. This paper proposes that Greek ἄκος comes from the full grade of a root *Hi̯eh2k-, and that the ă of ἄκος arose because it was backformed from the second member of a compound adjective.

1. Introduction The newly attested form HAKEΣANΔPO (Methone Pierias I, 339–343) helps to clarify several problems with the etymology of the Greek s-stem neuter noun ἄκος ‘cure, remedy’, such as whether it originally showed initial aspiration, and whether it is related to the Mycenaean terms a2-ke-te-re and ja-ke-te-re. At the same time, the presence of initial aspiration in this root leads to new problems. The most significant of these is how a Proto-Indo-European root *Hi̯eh2k-1 could produce a form with short a in Greek. This paper first summarizes the thinking to date on the etymology of ἄκος. It then discusses the problems involved, namely the presence of initial aspiration and possible connections to Mycenaean and Celtic forms. It goes on to propose an explanation for how a single Proto-Indo-European root *Hi̯eh2k- could

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* I would like to thank the Center for Hellenic Studies, particularly Gregory Nagy, for funding my travel to this conference and allowing me to use their wonderful library. I would also like to thank Brent Vine and Andrew Byrd for their many helpful comments on this paper, Anna Page for her assistance with the Celtic material, and Zoie Lafis for her help with the modern Greek. This research was carried out under a National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellowship, grant number DGE-0707424, and a UCLA Graduate Research Mentorship fellowship. 1 We cannot tell whether the /k/ of ἄκος was originally palatal or velar k. For that, we would need evidence from a satem language, and we have none. This is true even if we include Celtic, since Celtic is centum. Thus, there is no basis for Beekes' reconstruction of a palatal *k (Beekes 2010, 54–55). Perhaps it was a typo. For the sake of typographical convenience, this consonant is written simply as k throughout this paper.

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produce the Greek and Celtic forms. While my paper does not attempt to solve all problems, I hope that it at least lays bare the data and basic difficulties.

2. Background on ἄκος and HAKEΣANΔPO Before we delve into the previous work on the etymology of ἄκος, it makes sense to say a few words about the noun ἄκος and its derivatives, as well as the name Ἁκέ σανδρος. Somewhat disappointingly, ἄκος has no related forms except for derivatives of ἄκος itself. These derivatives are numerous, however. They include the denominative verb ἀκέ ομαι ‘heal, cure’, a wide variety of s-stem compound adjectives in -ηκης and -ακης, the verbal adjective ἀκεστό ς ‘cureable’ and several compound adjectives which contain it, and the agent nouns ἀκέ στωρ and ἀκεστή ρ ‘healer’ (Chantraine 2009, 47). As mentioned by Tzifopoulos (Methone Pierias I, 339–343), Ἁκέσανδρος is a terpsimbrotos compound consisting of ἁκεσ- ‘heal’ and ἀνδρο- ‘man’ (a thematized version of ἀνή ρ) meaning ‘he who heals men’. The name is attested from Athens, the islands of Amorgos, Crete, Rhodes and Cyprus, and Cyrene, from the fifth through the third centuries BCE (Fraser/Matthews 1987, 22; 1994, 17). Methone falls within the same cultural, dialectal, and geographical sphere as these attestations, so it seems reasonable and unremarkable to find an individual named Ἁκέ σανδρος at Methone.

3. Previous Work on the Etymology of ἄκος All three of the major Greek etymological dictionaries indicate large areas of uncertainty about the history and etymology of ἄκος. Chantraine discusses the semantics of ἄκος and its derivatives in great detail (2009, 47). He notes that in Attic medical terminology, ἄκος and its derivatives play only a secondary role compared to derivatives of ἰά ομαι ‘heal, cure’, and are confined to the sense ‘reparer, arranger’. He suggests that the root may have originally meant ‘fix’, later extended to ‘heal’, but differed from ἰά ομαι in that the former represented the injury to be healed, while the latter represented the healer. Chantraine notes a possible connection to the Mycenaean forms ja-ke-te-re and a-ke-te-re. He also notes that the prefixed dialectal forms ἐφακεῖσθαι, ἀφακεῖσθαι imply that the forms without initial aspiration are Ionic forms with psilosis, and states that any etymology must, therefore, allow for initial aspiration.

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Chantraine considers two possible etymologies. One possibility is to see ‘heal’ as a specialization of the sense ‘calm, soothe’ and link ἄκος to ἀκέ ων ‘silently’, ἀκή ‘silence’, and ἦκα ‘slightly’. The other, more plausible, possibility is to envision a technical term *yēk-/yək- (Chantraine’s notation) which is cognate with Old Irish hīcc ‘healing’2 and Welsh iach ‘healthy’. Frisk (1973, 56) simply states that there is no convincing etymology. He feels it is doubtful that Irish hīcc and Welsh iach are cognates with each other, much less with ἄκος. Beekes (2010, 54–55) connects the Mycenaean forms a2-ke-te-re and ja-ke-tere with ἄκος, and takes these forms as well as the dialectal forms ἐφακεῖσθαι, ἀφακεῖσθαι to indicate that ἄκος originally showed aspiration. Beekes feels that Chantraine’s reconstruction of *yēk-/yək- is impossible, since Chantraine’s reconstruction would require *eh1/h1, which would have produced *ek-. Instead, Beekes proposes that the original root was *Hieh2ḱ-. The psilotic forms, then, would be epic or Ionic forms. Beekes mentions the possible connection to Irish hícc, but notes that it is uncertain whether hícc is related to Welsh iach.

3.1 Discussion Given the treatments of ἄκος in these three etymological dictionaries, it seems that there are four major issues to be addressed. First, did the root of ἄκος originally have aspiration? Second, how is ἄκος connected to the Mycenaean forms a2-ke-te-re and ja-ke-te-re, if at all? Are there any other Mycenaean forms that might be related? Third, how (if at all) is ἄκος connected to the Celtic material, including Irish hícc and Welsh iach? Fourth, how are we to reconstruct the original root of ἄκος, given the evidence from historical Greek, Mycenaean, and Celtic? The next four sections will address each of these questions in turn.

4. Initial Aspiration This issue is straightforward. The dialectal forms ἐφακεῖσθαι, ἀφακεῖσθαι strongly suggest the presence of original initial aspiration. It was common for initial aspiration to be retained in compound forms where the final stop of the first member of the compound could aspirate, even after initial aspiration was

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2 The Old Irish form is ícc, while the Irish form is hícc. There is essentially no meaningful difference between the use of these two forms in this paper. The /h/ of the Irish form is unrelated to the aspiration of the Greek forms.

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lost in non-compounded forms (Buck 1955, 53). However, the attestation of the form HAKEΣANΔPO in the Methone material establishes the presence of original initial aspiration beyond the shadow of a doubt.

5. Mycenaean Forms There are five Mycenaean forms which have the right shape to possibly be derived from a second millennium ancestor of ἄκος: a-ke-te-re, a-ke-ti-ra2, a-ke-tijo, a2-ke-te-re, and ja-ke-te-re.

5.1 a-ke-te-re and a-ke-ti-ra2 It is likely that these two forms, masculine and feminine occupational terms, are not derived from ἀκέ ομαι ‘heal, mend’, but instead from ἀσκέ ω ‘work raw materials’. a-ke-ti-ra2 is a very common term for a certain type of female textile worker. Their task was to produce the o-nu, a component of some types of cloth whose exact meaning is unknown, perhaps the weft, or some kind of ornament (Luján 2010, 382). Since these workers are specifically involved in the production of new textiles, and since the verb ἀσκέ ω is used for the production of thread in Homer, the interpretation askḗtriai for a-ke-ti-ra2 is reasonably certain (Luján 2010, 382). The form a-ke-te-re appears twice on the Pylos bronze tablet Jn 832. It is most likely an occupational term describing a type of bronze worker, given that both times it appears in the formula ro-u-so (a toponym)/a-to-mo (a personal name, according to Aura Jorro and Adrados (1985, 120–121)), ka-ke-we, a-ke-te-re. However, it is unclear what kind of bronze work, exactly, was undertaken by the a-ke-te-re. From the limited context, it is equally possible that they were engaged in producing bronze (from ἀσκέ ω) or repairing bronze items (from ἀκέ ομαι). On the other hand, as we have seen, ἀκέ ομαι would have originally had initial aspiration, which would have been written in Mycenaean using the sign a2, or it could have even possessed an original yod. Aspiration in the form of a2 was sometimes not written, whether because of scribal error or linguistic reality, so one could conceivably still claim that a-ke-te-re represents a form with initial aspiration. However, I do not believe that a-ke-te-re originally had initial aspiration. The scribe who wrote this tablet, Hand 2, is not generally known for replacing a2

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with a; the one instance I am aware of, on Ta 642, is clearly a mistake, seeing that the scribe wrote the correct spelling on another tablet in the same series, Ta 714. I doubt the scribe would have made the same error twice. Therefore, the most likely interpretation for a-ke-te-re is askḗteres, ‘raw material workers’ of some sort. It should not have been a problem that masculine a-ke-te-re were bronze workers while feminine a-ke-ti-ra2 were textile workers; the gender difference would have been enough to tell apart what kind of work they did.

5.2 a-ke-ti-jo This form is a personal name which appears on one tablet, PY An 209. One possible interpretation is /Akestios/ or /Hakestios/, to ἄκος or ἀκέ ομαι (Aura Jorro/Adrados 1985, 42). This formation could represent a Kurzname based on another name with a different suffix, for example, Ἀκέ στωρ, which is attested as an epithet of Apollo (Euripides, Andromache 900). However, I reject the interpretation /Akestios/ because it is not plausible to assume that a was substituted for a2 in this case. a-ke-ti-jo appears on PY An 209, which was written by Hand 1 (Palaima 1988, 35). Hand 1 does use the sign a2 (229), and has no attested spelling variations which involve substitutions of a for a2 (50). While a-ke-ti-jo could still be a mistake for a2-ke-ti-jo, the lack of other examples of spelling alternations involving a2 speaks against it. The other possibility would be to claim that a-ke-ti-jo himself spoke a psilotic dialect and pronounced his name as /Akestios/, which Hand 1 dutifully recorded as such. However, this seems too conjectural an explanation when the etymology of the name is uncertain to begin with.

5.3 a2-ke-te-re and ja-ke-te-re The form a2-ke-te-re is attested once, on KN V 118 from the Room of the Chariot Tablets, which belongs to stylus group 124–4 (Aura Jorro/Adrados 1985, 127; Driessen 2000, 89). The tablet itself simply lists a man’s name, po-ru-da-si-jo /Poludaisios/ (Aura Jorro/Adrados 1993, 151–152), followed by a2-ke-te-re 2[ (Chadwick et al. 1986, 57). Given the context and form of the term, a2-ke-te-re is most likely an occupational term in -tēr. The form ja-ke-te-re is also attested once, on the Pylos tablet PY Mn 11 written by Hand 2 (Bennett/Olivier 1973, 197; Palaima 1988, 59). The tablet is fragmentary and contains several unknown ideograms, which obscure its

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meaning and function. However, the term ja-ke-te-re does appear in parallel with two other terms whose meaning is reasonably clear: me-wi-te-jo[ ]te-re, the masculine possessive adjective of an anthroponym possibly followed by an occupational term in -tēr (Aura Jorro/Adrados 1988, 448), and ra-pa-i-[.]-jọ-i, ̣ which may be a dative plural, possibly of a personal name (Aura Jorro/Adrados 1993, 220). Given that these terms seem to be describing groups of people, it would not be out of place for ja-ke-te-re to represent an occupational term. Thus, the context of both a2-ke-te-re and ja-ke-te-re supports the interpretation that both forms are occupational terms. The context does not, however, narrow down the semantics further. The context also does not support or deny that the two forms are variants of the same word. Still, I feel that the best interpretation probably is that a2-ke-te-re and ja-kete-re are the same form, and are derived from ἀκέ ομαι. There is no reason why the meaning ‘menders’ would not work in context, and it is hard to imagine what other root they could belong to. However, this is mainly an argument from lack of evidence and lack of better alternatives, since it is possible that the context could refute this interpretation if it had been better preserved, and since it is possible that one or both of these forms could belong to a root which is not attested in later Greek. The linguistics that a2-ke-te-re and ja-ke-te-re could belong to ἀκέ ομαι is sound, but the context offers essentially no support for this view. If a2-ke-te-re and ja-ke-te-re both do belong to ἀκέ ομαι, there would be surprising implications for the development of the Greek language. According to linguistics, ja-ke-te-re is the more conservative form, since /i̯/ > /h/ > ∅ in Greek. However, the form a2-ke-te-re comes from the Room of the Chariot Tablets, which constitutes some of our oldest preserved Linear B, ca. 1350 BCE, while jake-te-re comes from the Pylos main archives, which constitutes some of the latest preserved Linear B, ca. 1200 BCE (Firth/Skelton forthcoming). This would imply that /i̯/ was preserved at Pylos over a century after it became /h/ on Crete. Furthermore, it is likely that the variety of Mycenaean spoken on Crete was psilotic (Garcia Ramon 1994–1995, 345–346). The term a2-ke-te-re is, in fact, the only secure instance of initial a2 on Crete. Even there, the scribe originally wrote the sign a, then corrected it to a2, as though he had written the sign based on his own psilotic pronunciation, then corrected it to conform to the standard, nonpsilotic, orthographic form (345–346). Since the Room of the Chariot Tablets represents some of the earliest Linear B, possibly only one or two generations removed from the creation of Linear B, it is conceivable that scribes there could have retained original spellings with a2. On the other hand, it has been brought into question to what extent spellings using the j-series word-initial reflect actual phonetic glides, as opposed to aspiration (e.g. Probert 2008). It is also possible that such a scenario explains the pattern seen here.

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6. Celtic As mentioned above, the three major etymological dictionaries of Greek note a possible connection between Greek ἄκος and two Celtic forms, Irish hícc ‘healing’ and Welsh iach ‘healthy’. Most treatments of these Celtic forms mention a possible connection with Greek ἄκος as well. As with Greek, however, the Celtic material is problematic on its own terms. Thurneysen (1961, 38–39) discusses ícc in his treatment of the origins of Old Irish í (=ī). Old Irish í, when not a product of compensatory lengthening, can come from Proto-Indo-European *ī or *ē. Thurneysen states that even though ícc is cognate with Welsh and Cornish iach, the í of Old Irish certainly did not come from *i̯a. He proposes that there may have been an original by-form with *iəkk-, which may have also given rise to Greek ἄκος. Schrijver (1995, 103–104) includes a lengthy treatment of the problems with the root vocalism of the Celtic forms. He first discusses one proposal, that Proto-Indo-European sequences of *iHC- produced a syllabic laryngeal (*i̯aC-) in British, but a non-syllabic laryngeal (*īC-) in Irish. Schrijver feels that this scenario is not plausible because it would require British and Irish to have differentiated from each other at a time when laryngeals were still present. The differentiation of British and Irish, however, could not have taken place this early. Schrijver then considers other scenarios that could account for more recent differentiation. A Proto-Celtic form *i̯akk- would not work because it would have produced Old Irish xacc. Proto-Celtic *ii̯akk- would also not work, because it would have given Irish xīacc. On the other hand, Proto-Celtic *ii̯ekk- would have given British *ii̯akk- as well as Proto-Irish *iikk-, which could have contracted to ícc. However, as Schrijver himself admits, postulating a contraction of *iikk- to *ícc is a completely ad hoc solution. As for an etymology, Schrijver notes that Welsh iach and Old Irish ícc are usually considered possible cognates of Greek ἄκος. However, ἄκος lacks the expected rough breathing, and as a result, and it is difficult to see how the Proto-Indo-European root required, *ih2k-, could produce the vocalism we see in the Old Irish form. Schrijver instead suggests a connection between the Celtic forms and Sanskrit yatate ‘situate onesself in the right place’ and yatati ‘situate someone in the right place’, from the Proto-Indo-European root *i̯et-. The Celtic forms could then have come from *i̯et-kā and *i̯et-kos. However, it is not clear how this scenario could have produced the form required for Irish, *ii̯etkV-. Matasović (2009) attempts to explain the vocalism of Old Irish ícc through a reduplicated form *i̯ii̯ekkā. He mentions the possible connection to Greek ἄκος

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and the Mycenaean forms, and how the lack of expected aspiration could be explained if the word came from a psilotic dialect. If that were the case, the Greek form would come from Proto-Indo-European *i̯h2ko-, which gave rise to ProtoGreek *i̯akos. Unfortunately, as Matasović points out, this etymology would be difficult to reconcile with Proto-Celtic *i̯ekko-. Zair (2012, 68) cites Old Irish ícc and Middle Welsh iach in a discussion of the outcome of Proto-Indo-European *IHC- (where I stands for any glide) in Celtic. According to Zair, there is limited evidence that *IHC- became *īC- in Celtic, and no good evidence that *IHC- became *iaC- in either British, Gaulish, or Proto-Celtic. He mentions Greek ἄκος and notes how dialectal forms such as ἐφακεῖσθαι indicate an original rough breathing. Thus, ἄκος came from *i̯akos, from Proto-IndoEuropean *ih2kos. The Celtic forms seem to require a Proto-Indo-European root with geminate k, which would imply *īkko- and *iakko-. However, there is no good explanation for the geminate k. In short, there are several problems which arise from the Celtic material. There is no straightforward explanation as to how the vocalism of Old Irish ícc and Middle Welsh iach could have come from the same Proto-Indo-European root. Most treatments of the Celtic forms mention a possible relationship with Greek ἄκος, but the details of this relationship, if it exists, remain problematic. If the Greek form is connected, it is not clear how the Celtic forms came to have the geminate in the root.

7. Etymology As the prior linguistic treatments of the Greek and Celtic material show, there is no clear etymology of Greek ἄκος, Old Irish ícc, and Welsh iach, and there are numerous obstacles to devising a convincing etymology. As we have seen, the new form HAKEΣANΔPO alongside the Mycenaean terms ja-ke-te-re and a2-ke-tere resolves one of these obstacles, namely whether or not ἄκος showed initial aspiration from Proto-Greek *i̯-. This new information presents us with an opportunity to make further headway on the etymology of these problematic forms.

7.1 Greek 7.1.1 Phonological Discussion The prior treatments of the Greek and Celtic material mentioned a wide array of phonological difficulties these forms present. Unfortunately, now that the initial

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aspiration has been confirmed, we are confronted with even more serious phonological difficulties than before. In particular, we must reconstruct a Proto Indo-European root with initial *Hi̯-, which causes the origin of the /ă/ found in Greek ἄκος to become very problematic. There are three possible origins for /ă/ in Greek, excluding syllabic resonants, analogy and loan words: Proto-Indo-European *a, *h2, or *h2e. *a is morphologically and phonologically unproblematic. However, *a was rare as a phoneme in Proto-Indo-European, and reconstructing a root *Hi̯ak- would leave us with no way to explain the long vowel of Old Irish ícc. *h2 is phonologically and morphologically complicated on several levels. First, how would the cluster *Hih2k- syllabify? For the Leiden school, the *h2 would syllabify, producing *Hi̯h2k- > *i̯ak-. The standard view, the one I subscribe to, is that the *i would act as the syllable nucleus. This would give *Hih2k, which would produce Greek xīk-, which is not what we find. We must also rule out *h2e because of difficulties with the syllabification of *Hi̯h2ek-. This would be expected to give a disyllabic result, /Hih2ek-/, which would give Greek xἰακ-, not ἀκ-. Furthermore, it is difficult to imagine that a good Proto-Indo-European root would contain the initial cluster *Hi̯h2-. A better root would be *Hi̯eh2k-, but this would give Greek xᾱκ-. Since none of the possibilities can produce an outcome with a short a, we must resort to analogy with other grades of the root. However, Greek does not provide any forms with other grades of the root; the Celtic material would have to provide them.

7.1.2 Morphological Discussion The etymology of the Greek and Celtic forms is not just a phonological problem; it is also a morphological problem. Greek ἄκος is a neuter s-stem. The normal type of deverbal s-stem shows e-grade of the root. Zero-grade s-stems can be found in Greek (e.g. βά ρος ‘weight’, τά χος ‘speed’), but tend to belong to nominal derivation, especially in connection with the Caland system (e.g. βαρύ ς ‘heavy’, ταχύ ς ‘swift’). Neither morphological possibility provides us with a straightforward solution. If ἄκος were a deverbal s-stem, we would expect e-grade of the root, which, as mentioned above, would most likely give us Proto-Indo-European *Hi̯eh2k-os- and Greek xᾱ̓́κος. Ideally, we would want a zero-grade form to serve as the basis for analogy. Unfortunately, this does not seem possible. Zero-grade of the stem never appears in this type of s-stem paradigm. Some part of the paradigm of the verb which originally gave rise to ἄκος or its

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Proto-Indo-European ancestor could conceivably provide this zero-grade. However, no such verb appears in any language. Even Greek ἀκέ ομαι ‘heal’ is a denominal verb made from ἄκος. Even more damningly, the zero grade, *Hi̯h2k-, would not produce an ă in Greek, but īk-. We now turn to the possibility that ἄκος was a zero-grade s-stem. On the surface, we also seem to have the problem that the zero grade would produce x īk- instead of ăk-. However, according to Meissner’s work on the Greek s-stems, the zero-grade s-stems we see in Greek do not have their origins in Proto-IndoEuropean, but Greek (2006, 64–72). These zero-grade s-stems likely originated in several different ways. First, many (if not all) zero-grade s-stems belong to the Caland system, where the zero-grade s-stems could have been produced on analogy to the corresponding zero-grade u-stem adjectives, e.g. βά θος on analogy to βαθύ ς (Meissner 2006, 71). This process clearly would not work for ἄκος; even if a zero-grade u-stem adjective existed, it would not have provided the correct basis for analogy. Second, some zero-grade s-stems were likely back-formed from compound s-stem adjectives. For instance, the zero-grade s-stem πά θος ‘incident, experience, accident’ (as opposed to πέ νθος ‘grief, sorrow’), was likely back-formed from deverbal compound adjectives with their second member in -παθή ς (Meissner 2006, 67–68, 71–72, 86–94). A similar process could be used to explain ἄκος. If the original Proto-IndoEuropean s-stem noun was full-grade *Hyeh2k-os, this would give the ProtoGreek form *i̯ākos. As the second member of a compound, the etymological ā would be indistinguishable from ă which had been lengthened in this compound through Wackernagel’s Dehnungsgesetz (Buck 1976, 360). It would then be possible to create the form *i̯ăkos (or *hăkos) by analogy to pairs such as ἀκή and εὐή κης. The initial /j/ or /h/ of the root could have also been lost in the process of back-formation, possibly helping to produce the unexpected psilotic forms which predominate in alphabetic Greek. Meissner (2006, 76–78) argues that a similar process took place with the pair ἦθος and ἔθος, though it must be noted that this argument was not particularly successful (Kölligan 2007). On the surface, this scenario may seem to present chronological difficulties. Most of the s-stem nouns which Meissner cites in support of this derivational process were formed late, sometimes very late (2006, 86–94). On the other hand, a large part of Meissner’s argument for the existence of this derivational process relies on the chronological evidence, namely that he can cite sequences consisting of a verb, a deverbal s-stem adjective, and an s-stem noun, each one later than the last (2006, 89–90). However, this sort of evidence could not be adduced if the derivational process had been completed by the time of our first attestation of the s-stem

Thoughts on the Initial Aspiration of HAKEΣANΔPO | 229

noun, for example, if the verb, deverbal s-stem adjective, and s-stem noun were all first attested in Homer. In fact, not all links of the chain may have necessarily survived until the time of our earliest attestation of the s-stem noun. For example, Meissner himself cites the example of μά θος, which is first attested in Alcaeus. Compounds in -μαθή ς, however, are only attested starting in Aeschylus. Thus, the first attestation of μά θος predates the first attestation of a compound in -μαθή ς by more than a hundred years (Meissner 2006, 90–91).3 In short, the fact that most of Meissner’s examples of s-stem nouns created from deverbal s-stem adjectives are late does not necessarily mean that this process could not and did not occur in earlier Greek. On the other hand, short-vowel forms are nearly ubiquitous in Greek by the time of Homer. Thus, if ἄκος were back-formed from an s-stem adjective, this process must have taken place very early. Unfortunately, Linear B does not write vowel length, so the Mycenaean forms cannot help with the chronology. We might assume that Mycenaean jake-te-re and a2-ke-te-re are directly continued by Classical Greek ἀκεστή ρ, which would mean that the Mycenaean forms had ă. However, this may not necessarily be the case. The form ἀκεστή ρ is first attested in alphabetic Greek only in Sophocles. Mycenaean ja-ke-te-re/a2-ke-te-re may have been one of the many technical terms which were lost with the fall of the Mycenaean palaces, and it could have been invented anew hundreds of years later. This notion is supported by Chantraine’s observation that, at least in Attic, the verb ἰά ομαι tends to handle the concept of ‘healer’. We can envision two scenarios for how ἄκος came to be the sole nominal form. First, it is possible that Greek only inherited the root as the second member of a compound adjective. Second, the new short-a form could have completely replaced the long-a form. According to Meissner, zero-grade s-stems were frequently created alongside existing full-grade s-stems, and often even replaced them. For instance, βέ νθος is the only form that appears in Homer, but it appears only rarely in later Greek, and mostly in poetry. On the other hand, in post-Homeric Greek, βά θος is virtually the only word for ‘depth’ (Meissner 2006, 65–67). However, this scenario assumes that the same circumstances that led to the replacement of e-grade forms in post-Homeric Greek were also present in early Greek. The major problem with the idea that ἄκος was back-formed from a compound adjective is where the s-stem compound adjective came from in the first place. There are a number of s-stem compound adjectives connected with ἄκος

_____

3 As a matter of speculation, I wonder whether Greek ἄγος ‘guilt, curse’ and Sanskrit āgaḥ ‘sin’ could provide another example (Meissner 2006, 73; Chantraine 2009, 12–13).

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which show the effects of Wackernagel’s Dehnungsgesetz, including ἀνακή ς (Eup.), πανακή ς (Epicur., Call.), ἀνηκή ς (Soph.), and εὐηκή ς (Emp.). All of these could be deverbative, and none of them is particularly old; the earliest one dates to the fifth century BCE. The form ἀνή κεστος is attested in Homer, but it is clearly deverbative. If such an s-stem compound adjective existed in early Greek, it either managed to somehow lie low until the fifth century BCE, or it was lost without a trace.

7.1.3 Conclusions about the Greek material I am proposing here that Greek ἄκος comes from the full grade of a root *Hi̯eh2k-, and that the ă of ἄκος arose because it was back-formed from the second member of a compound adjective. This scenario is plausible in the sense that there is very little to contradict it, but there is very little supporting evidence, either. I am not aware of any parallel cases of s-stem nouns back-formed from s-stem adjectives that early in Greek. I am also not aware of any secure parallel cases of forms whose initial vowels were shortened when they were back-formed from the second member of a compound adjective. The etymology of Greek ἄκος must remain uncertain.

7.2 Celtic 7.2.1 Phonological Discussion According to my proposed etymology of the Greek forms, ἄκος must come from a full grade of the root. A full grade will not work for Celtic, however. The sequence *HeHC- produces long vowels which are colored by the laryngeal which follows the vowel (Zair 2012, 25). In Old Irish, for instance, this would produce ā, not ī. The zero-grade, *Hih2k-, is somewhat more promising.4 Unfortunately, it is uncertain how the sequence *HIHC- developed in Celtic. According to Zair (2012, 46–48) two forms may suggest a development of *HIHC- to *ĪC and *IC, but they may have other explanations. Only one form, Middle Irish fann from *h1uh2-s-no-, provides reliable evidence, and it suggests a development of *HIHC- to *i̯aC-. Thus, it seems plausible that a zero-grade form could produce Welsh iach.

_____

4 As mentioned above, Zair (2012, 68) discusses ícc and iach in his treatment of the sequence IHC. However, as I have shown above, if the Greek and Celtic forms are connected, the ProtoIndo-European root must begin *Hi̯-.

Thoughts on the Initial Aspiration of HAKEΣANΔPO | 231

Another possibility is that the Irish form may have arisen from a lengthened e-grade form *Hi̯ēh2k-. According to Eichner’s law, *h2 would not be expected to color *ē, giving Old Irish ícc instead of xácc. Unfortunately, Zair (2012, 249–253) argues that there is no secure evidence for Eichner’s Law in Celtic. Instead, the best evidence, Old Irish ág from *h2ēg-, suggests that *h2/3 could color adjacent vowels. If this is correct, then Old Irish ícc could not come from a lengthened egrade form of the root.

7.2.2 Morphological Discussion This section is very short, because it seems foolish to discuss what morphological process could produce the grades of the root found in both Greek and Celtic when the Celtic material is so uncertain on phonological grounds. Additionally, a discussion of any Celtic-internal morphological issues is best left to the Celtic experts. It only remains to be noted that it is unclear how the Celtic forms came to have geminate k, especially if they are related to the Greek forms. Old Irish ícc and Welsh iach are not the only forms which show this mystery gemination. For example, Old Irish macc ‘son’ shows geminate k, but this is not shared by the Old Welsh mab, Middle Welsh map (Matasović 2009, 253). The Proto-Celtic roots *bakko- ‘hook’ (52), *bekko- ‘small’ (60), *brikko- ‘speckled’ (78), and many others present additional examples of Celtic forms which show an unexplained geminate k.

8. Conclusions This paper began with the assertion that the etymology of Greek ἄκος was extremely problematic, and it must end with that very same assertion. The lack of forms in Greek which are related to ἄκος, rather than derived from it, restricts our ability to determine how the phonologically anomalous ἄκος with its short ă came about. The uncertainty concerning Eichner’s Law and the outcome of the sequence *HIHC in Celtic hinders our ability to understand the Celtic forms. One can only hope that, perhaps, further excavations like the one at Methone will turn up additional relevant forms.

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232 | Anna Panayotou-Triantaphyllopoulou

Anna Panayotou-Triantaphyllopoulou

The Impact of Late Geometric Greek Inscriptions from Methone on Understanding the Development of Early Euboean Alphabet* Anna Panayotou-Triantaphyllopoulou The Impact of Late Geometric Greek Inscriptions from Methone

Abstract: Late Geometric inscriptions from Methone are written in Euboean alphabet as it is shown by the comparison with contemporary similar inscriptions from Eretria and its colonies. The few dialectal features in the inscriptions of Methone may point to the Euboean dialect: aspiration (Methone Pierias I, no. 2); lack of vowel compensatory lengthening after the presumably early loss of /w/ in the cluster –nw- (Methone Pierias I, no. 22); uncontracted genitive masculine in –eos (Methone Pierias I, no. 4).

1. According to a literary testimony (Plutarch, Greek Questions 293b), Methone in Pieria was a colony founded by Eretrians expelled from Corcyra, where they had attempted unsuccessfully to establish themselves on their way to the West. When they tried to go back home, they were chased, literally they were ‘driven away by the slings’ (ἀποσφενδό νητοι), by their own fellow-citizens. Subsequently, they were established on the western coast of the Thermaic Gulf,1 in ca. 733 BCE.2 According to the excavations conducted in the area since 2003, already in the last quarter of the eighth century BCE, this coastal settlement was a major production center and port town, and maintained extensive trade connections with the regions inland, other sites on the Thermaic Gulf, and northern,

_____ * It is my pleasure to congratulate the colleagues Yannis Tzifopoulos, Matthaios Bessios, and Antonis Kotsonas to whom we owe an exemplary excavation, a thorough study, the publication without delay of the important material from Methone’s “Ypogeio”, and the organization of the international conference “Panhellenes at Methone” aiming at the dissemination of the results of their study and further discussion. I would like to thank the members of the organizing committee and the staff of the Centre for the Greek Language for the generous hospitality in difficult circumstances. I also express my gratitude to my colleague Mr Eutychios Eutychiou for helping me with the elaboration of Table 2. 1 In fact, Euboeans settled at numerous sites on the Thermaic Gulf during the Late Geometric, Archaic and Classical Periods, where they founded colonies and emporia: see Soueref 2009, 348, note 6, with previous bibliography. 2 Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, 19–20.

The Impact of Late Geometric Greek Inscriptions from Methone | 233

central and eastern Aegean, as manifested through imported pottery. The excavations revealed the city center of Methone. Inscribed Late Geometric pottery was excavated in the “Ypogeio”, a large subterranean structure that remained unfinished, whose filling is dated in the period 740–690 BCE. 3 Inscribed pottery was discovered in the “Ypogeio”; 23 vases or sherds bear alphabetic inscriptions and marks dated to the above mentioned period, i.e. the early phases of the colony. Some 136 vessels and sherds of the same date bear non-alphabetic marks. My starting-point for the examination of the local script was the tradition transmitted by Plutarch about the foundation of Methone by Eretrians, and the well-known close relation between a mother-city and her colonies, expressed normally by the use of the same alphabet and of the same dialect.4 A comparison of the eighth/seventh century vase inscriptions on imported and locally made pottery from the “Ypogeio” was attempted with contemporary inscriptions and marks on vases from Eretria (from the sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros or elsewhere),5 or with inscribed pottery from the Euboean colonial area (either apoikiai or emporia), from Pithekoussai,6 settled by both Chalcidians and Ererians, or from Cyme in Campania, a mid-eighth century foundation of Pithekoussai.7 2. Although the identification of the alphabet is not always conclusive, either because the graffiti incised after firing on vases are very short, or because they do not contain any or enough diagnostic letters, let us examine the Late Geometric inscribed material. Table 1 summarizes information about possible provenance of the vase, whether inscriptions were written before or after firing, direction of the script, kind of inscription, and some remarks on the content. Numbering of the inscribed vessels, provenance, and dating are given after Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, nos. 1–22. I left deliberately aside three inscribed sherds from the same find spot, which are dated in the seventh/sixth century BCE or still later (nos. 23–25).

_____ 3 Bessios in Methone Pierias I. 4 Jeffery 1990, 18–19. A close parallel in the region is Potidaea, founded ca. 600 BCE by Corinth. Potidaea not only used the same alphabet and dialect as Corinth, but was the promoter of its diffusion in the Thermaic Gulf during Late Archaic Period. In the aftermath of the Persian Wars, Potidaea joined the Delian League; and the new political development brought an end to the use of the Corinthian alphabet in the region: see Panayotou 1996, 133, 135, 143. 5 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005. 6 Bartonĕk/Buchner 1995. 7 Jeffery 1990, 235.

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Table 1.

Locally

Imported

Pottery

Inscribed

Incised

made

pottery

of unknown

before

after

provenance

firing

firing

pottery

Interpretation

Date (BCE)

1

Lesbian drinking cup

√

← Φιλίōνος ε̄̓μί. Owner’s inscription

8/7

2

Euboean skyphos

√

← Sympotic inscription of Ἁκέ σανδρος with proprietary formula plus a metric curse formula

8/7

3

Thermaic Gulf little skyphos

√

← ΕΠΙΓΕ[ Fragmentary owner’s inscription?

8/7

4

Lesbian amphora

√

Ἀντεϙύ δεος → Owner’s inscription

8/7

√

⊕Ε☼ → Abbreviated name? Dedication?

8/7

5

Amphora

6

Attic amphora

√

← Fragmentary

8/7

7

Euboean skyphos

√

← ]ΟΕΜ[ Fragmentary owner’s inscription?

8/7

8

Euboean skyphos

√

← ΡΙ[ Fragmentary

8/7

√

← ΑΛ Abbreviation of the owner’s name or a trademark?9

8/7

9

Amphora8

_____ 8 For these locally produced amphorae see Kοτσώνας in Methone Pierias I, 150–154. 9 Cf. Johnston 2006, 50, mark no. 14A.

The Impact of Late Geometric Greek Inscriptions from Methone | 235

Locally

Imported

Pottery

Inscribed

Incised

made

pottery

of unknown

before

after

provenance

firing

firing

pottery

Interpretation

Date (BCE)

10

Thermaic Gulf skyphos

√

← ϜΑ Abbreviation of the owner’s name or a trademark?

8/7

11

Thermaic Gulf skyphos

√

← Ε[ Fragmentary. Trademark?

8/7

12

Thermaic Gulf skyphos

√

← ΑΓ Abbreviation of the owner’s name or a trademark?

8/7

√

← .Λ Abbreviation of the owner’s name or a trademark?

8/7

ΝΕ → Abbreviation of the owner’s name?

8/7

√

← ΝΕ Abbreviation of the owner’s name?

8/7

√

← EY Owner’s mark or indication of the content?10

8/7

√ (two isolated hasty and swallow letters), one of them being a

Potter’s and owner’s marks?

8/7

13

14

Skyphos

Thermaic Gulf ewer

15

Amphora

16

Samian amphora

17

Samian amphora

_____ 10 Cf. Johnston 2006, 50, mark no. 9B.

√ ←N

236 | Anna Panayotou-Triantaphyllopoulou

Locally

Imported

Pottery

Inscribed

Incised

made

pottery

of unknown

before

after

provenance

firing

firing

pottery

Interpretation

Date (BCE)

Euboean chi 18

Samian amphora

√

←N Owner’s mark?11

8/7

19

Samian amphora

√

← ΓΙ̣ [ Fragmentary

8/7

√

Owner’s mark or indication of the content?

8/7

20

Amphora

21

Chian amphora

√

?]Κ → Owner’s mark?

8/7

22

Thermaic Gulf skyphos

√

← ΣΧΕΝΙ (ENI) Owner’s inscription?

8/7

Trying to answer the question of whether an imported vessel is inscribed in the supposed place of its production or at the place where it was found, I shall apply, where possible, the criteria set up by Johnston (1975, 146–147) on (Rhodian) pottery inscriptions and marks. With the help of the data summarized on Table 1, we could make the following observations: 1. The inscriptions of some length or containing diagnostic letters are incised after firing in an alphabet different from that of the place where the vessels are imported from, according to stylistic criteria or their fabric. It is for example the case of nos. 1 and 4: the owners’ inscriptions on a Lesbian drinking cup and a Lesbian amphora respectively, both inscribed in an alphabet which is not Lesbian. It is thus obvious that the imported pots bearing inscriptions were inscribed at Methone. 2. The same contemporary graffiti are attested on different kind of vessels (nos. 14 and 15), both inscribed after firing on different parts of the vase. It is likely then that the letters in question indicate an abbreviation of the owner’s, not of the potter’s, name.

_____ 11 Cf. Johnston 2006, 82, mark no. 14B.

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3.

From the 158 alphabetic and non-alphabetic inscriptions and marks dated to the period 730–690 BCE,12 especially from the 22 alphabetic samples, we can assume that literacy was comparatively widespread in Methone among first- and second-generation settlers. However, the proportion of alphabetic inscriptions and marks compared to non-alphabetic ones (ca. 1:7) must warn us against overestimating literacy in Late Geometric Methone. 4. It has to be emphasized that some of the inscriptions, no. 1, no. 2 (the lengthiest of all), nos. 3, 4, 5, and 22 are due to well-trained hands. 5. On the Samian amphora no. 17 there is a retrograde nu carefully incised before firing on the shoulder, and two letters in a smaller size lightly scratched after firing on two different parts of the body of the vase, apparently without relation to each other. It is probable that the nu has a commercial significance and is not written in the same alphabet as the two others. Table 2 presents a freehand drawing of letter forms of inscriptions and marks, after the photos published in Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, nos. 1–23. Table 2.

Note 1: Letter inscribed after firing. Note 2: Letter inscribed before firing on an imported Samian amphora, thus probably a Samian nu.

_____

12 Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, nos. 1–23, 26–161.

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Note 3: Letter inscribed after firing, not fully preserved. Note 4: Euboean (‘red’) chi13 written upside down on the handle of a locally made amphora.

The alpha and delta are curved on the side of the direction of writing (nos. 2, 4, 6, 9, 12 —a clue for defining the retrograde direction of the inscriptions— and nos. 2, 4 for the delta). The arrow alpha and delta are used in no. 2 (both of them) and in no. 4 (the delta). The slopping gamma (nos. 3, 12, 19) is regular. The epsilon is tilted (nos. 1–5, 7, 14–16, 22), once exaggerated forward (no. 11). The closed eta marks the aspiration in the personal name in the genitive 𐌇ακεσά νδρō (no. 2). This is the older form of the letter.14 The first component of the personal name (/y(:)/ with the whole Ionic-Attic group. 20 Jeffery 1990, 32, fig. 15, xi no. 4, cf. ibid. p. 347; Johnston 1975, 154, 156 on ‘red’ xi on Rhodes. 21 See Johnston’s 1975, 155 discussion on earlier views on such pleonastic use of ‘red’ xi plus sigma in early Rhodian inscriptions. 22 Cf. Teodorsson 1974, 228. 23 Table in Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 77–78. 24 Mainly at Pithekoussai, table in Bartonĕk/Buchner 1995, 184. 25 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 77–78. 26 Bartonĕk/Buchner 1995, 184. 27 Jeffery 1990, 80.

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3. The inscribed material from Methone confirms or gives some clues as to where exactly the Euboean alphabet was created and how it was spread. First, as far as the oldest Euboean texts are known from Eretria and its colonies, it seems highly likely that Eretria was the place where the Euboean alphabet was developed and spread further to Boeotia, apparently via Chalcis, as Jeffery (1990, 82) inferred; Methone’s contribution to the issue is connected with inscriptions attesting, among others, curved alpha and delta, five-stroked mu, tailed hypsilon; new Late Geometric inscriptions from Eretria and its colonies show beyond doubt that Eretria was their origin. Secondly, it can be asserted that the Euboean alphabet was a fully developed alphabet of 26 letters transmitted to the colonies and through them to Etruscans before the mid-eighth century BCE,28 i.e., prior to the foundation of Methone and to contemporary western Euboean colonies: this is indicated by early Euboean abecedaria dated to the eighth and early seventh centuries which comprise a fossilized by that time (i.e. not used in texts and other abecedaria) form of xi (𐌎) with no longer a phonetic value: this letter appears only in abecedaria either from Eretria29 or from Etruria, notably in the oldest known Etruscan abecedarium, from Marsiliana d’Albegna.30 Thirdly, judging from the number, the content and the date of the inscriptions, and the marks found, the knowledge of the script was relatively widespread in early Eretrian settlements already in the last quarter of the eighth century BCE. Moreover, it is conceivable that during this early period in Methone, as in Pithekoussai and Cyme, script had not only a commercial utility: it did not concern just basic literacy and trade activities; for an unknown proportion of the local population, writing was an elaborate, sophisticated vehicle, embedded in colonial social activities, as suggested among others by the content of Hakesandros’ inscription. 4. I would like to stress one more point concerning the alphabet: The spread of the Euboean alphabet outside Methone, especially to Macedonia, remains puzzling, so long as we lack inscriptions of the Geometric and Early Archaic periods from the neighboring sites. However, some archaic inscriptions from nearby

_____ 28 Pace Jeffery 1990, 237–238 who asserts that the abecedarium of Marsiliana d’Albegna provides only a terminus ante quem for the introduction of the Euboean alphabet in the West. Overall, it is difficult to assume that “Euboic traders” and “additional settlers” could be the teachers for the Etruscans of an alphabet comprising “dead letters”, i.e. letters without phonetic value, two or three generations after the first Euboean settlers were established in the West. 29 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, 57 and 60, no. 3; Wachter 2005. 30 See Lejeune’s 1983, 10–12 and Wachter’s 2005 discussion on the Marsiliana abecedarium and its indirect testimony on Euboean alphabet.

The Impact of Late Geometric Greek Inscriptions from Methone | 241

Aiane31 or from sanctuaries and settlements on the Thermaic Gulf32 must be cautiously reconsidered taking into account the fresh evidence from Methone. 5. The dialect of the Late Geometric inscriptions from Methone is more difficult to assess, as just a few clues are attested: aspiration (no. 1) is a feature which excludes the Eastern Ionic dialect; lack of vowel compensatory lengthening after the presumably early loss of /w/ in the cluster -nw- in Ξενί (-εω?, -ᾱ?, -ō?,33 if it is a personal name in the genitive, or e.g. ξέ νι(ον), if it is an adjective) (no. 22), compared to Eastern Ionic ξειν-, is another feature which excludes the Eastern Ionic dialect; uncontracted genitive masculine in -eos (no. 4) is a feature which excludes Attic.34 Given the date of the examples, the conclusion from probability is that the extant material does not contradict the Euboean dialect. 6. The view I defended can be summarized as follows: Late Geometric inscriptions and marks from Methone are written in the Euboean alphabet as the comparison with contemporary similar inscriptions from Eretria and its colonies demonstrate. The conclusions drawn from the evidence of the alphabet are used in the discussion of the origin and the elaboration of the Euboean alphabet and the importance of Eretria in this process. Moreover, the few dialectal features in the inscriptions of Methone may point to the Euboean dialect.

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_____ 31 For example the dextrograde text of the Late Archaic Period inscribed before firing on the rim of a pithos, Panayotou 1996, 149, no. 31, pl. 8/31. 32 An inventory can be found in Panayotou 1996, 131, 135, 137; to be supplemented by new texts which have been published since, discussed in Panayotou 2011. 33 In Euboean the genitive of a masculine name in -ί ης ought to be in -εω (-eͻ: Ἀντε- is unwarranted, the editors suggest a slip of the cutter (“αβλεψί α χά ραξης”), but they mention immediately afterwards a close parallel from a Thessalian inscription (SEG 51.735 and 52.566; Pherai 4th century BCE): Προύταρχος Ἀντεμεδόντειος (Att. Πρώταρχος Ἀντιμέ δοντος), where Ἀντεμεδόντειος is the patronymic adjective of *Ἀ ντεμέ δουν = Ἀντιμέ δων). A different explanation is more likely. As is known, verbal governing compounds may have a verbal first element in -ε- (Φερεκύ δης, Μενέ λαος) or in -ι-

_____ 19 Like Powell 1991, 166–167, Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, 313, believes that Tataie’s graffito was composed in dactylic meter by an unskilled versifier. However, the great majority of specialists doubt the presence of a dactylic pattern. Significantly, Hansen did not incorporate the inscription in his CEG. 20 Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, 345–347. 21 Jeffery 1990, 24 and 34. 22 Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, 347. Both elements are common in personal names Bechtel 1917, 57–61, 269–270.

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(Πεισί στρατος).23 Mutual interference between both types is frequent.24 In some cases -ε- is original and -ι- secondary: Ἀγι- (Ἀγιλά ϊος) for Ἀγε- (Ἀγελά ϊος, Ἀγέ μαχος), Ἀρχι- (Ἀρχίδημος, Ἀρχίλαος) for Ἀρχε- (Ἀρχέ δημος, Ἀρχέ λαος), Ἐχι(Ἐχί λαος) for Ἐχε- (Ἐχεκρά της, Ἐχέ μβροτος), Ἡγι-, Ἁγ- (Ἡγισρά τη, Ἁγιτέ λης) for Ἡγε-, Ἁγε- (Ἡγέ δημος, Ἡγέ λοχος), Πειθι- (Πειθιμέ νης) for Πειθε- (Πειθέ νους), Φειδι- (Φειδί λεως) for Φειδε- (Φειδέ λαος), Χαιρι- (Χαιριγέ νης, Χαιρί δημος) for Χαιρε- (Χαιρεκρά της, Χαιρέ στρατος). In other cases, secondary -ε- supplants original -ι-: Ἀλεξε- (Ἀλεξέ βιος) for Ἀλεξι- (Ἀλεξί βιος, Ἀλεξί δημος), Δεξε- (Δεξενίκα) for Δεξι- (Δεξί δημος, Δεξίμαχος), Θαρσε- (Θαρρελεί δης) for Θαρσι- (Θαρσικρά της, Θαρσί λοχος), and Ὀρσε(Ὀρσέ λαος) for Ὀρσι- (Ὀρσικλῆς, Όρσίμαχος). With a non-verbal first element: Ἀλκε- (Ἀλκέ μαχος) for Ἀλκι- (Ἀλκί μαχος, Ἀλκισθέ νης),25 Ἀργε- (Ἀργέ λαος) for Ἀργι- (Ἀργί λεως, Ἀργικλί δας),26 Καλλε- (Καλλέ νικος) for Kαλλι- (Καλλικρά της, Καλλί νικος). Interestingly, interference may also take place when the first element of the compound is an adverb; cf. analogical Τηλι- in Τηλί μαχος (IG V.2, 1; Tegea, 362 BCE) for original Τηλε- (Τηλέ μαχος, Τηλεκλῆς) and analogical Ἀγχε- in Ἀγχεμά χου (SGDI 1987; Delphi, 174 BCE) replacing original Ἀγχι- (Ἀγχίβιος, Ἀγχίστρατος). Similarly, Ἀρε- in Ἀρεδεί κης (Inscr. Cos 47.A37; Cos, ca. 250–243) stands for Ἀρι- (Ἀρικρά της, Ἀρί μνηστος). In short, Ἀντικύ δης and Ἀντιμέ δων must have become Ἀντεκύ δης in Methone and *Ἀ ντεμέ δουν in Thessaly on the analogy of verbal compounds like Φερεκύ δης and Μενεκύ δης. Analogical changes are a poor index for purposes of dialect classification since they can appear spontaneously in different places.27

_____ 23 Verbal compounds in -ι- are of two types: compounds in -ti-/-si- (Ὀρτί λοχος, Tερψί μβροτος) and in -i- (τερπικέ ραυνος). The latter have been explained as Caland-compounds, or as hybrids of the types *τερψικέ ραυνος and *τερπεκέ ραυνος (Risch 1974, 216). In determinative and possessive compounds, the first element in -ι- may be a dat. sg. (Ἀλκιβιά δης), a dat. pl. (Ναυσικύ δης, Φρασικύ δης), a Caland-variant (Κυδικλῆς on *κυδρό ς) or a preposition (Ἀμφικύ δης, Ἐπικύ δης). 24 For the data see Bechtel 1917. 25 Ἀλκι- is to be identified with the defective dat. sg. ἀλκί surviving in the Homeric formula ἀλκὶ πεποιθώς ‘confident in his strength’ (Hom. Il. 5.299, etc.). 26 Ἀργι- is a regular Caland-variant of *ἀργ-ρό ς. 27 In Eretria we find an analogy of a different kind: Μοιρέ στρατος for Μοιρό στρατος and Δικεφί λου for Δικοφί λου (IG XII.9, 246.18 and 245.333; 3rd century BCE).

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4. The name ΣΧΕΝΙ, the Euboean alphabet and pleonastic sigma The graffito ΣΧΕΝΙ (retrograde) (Methone Pierias I, no. 22) is scratched in the space left between the ends of one of the handles of a skyphos that may belong to pottery of the Thermaic Gulf.28 As the editors note, ΣΧΕΝΙ must be part of the owner’s name (an abbreviation?), but, since no personal names beginning with Σχεν- are known to exist in Greek, the only reasonable guess is that ΣΧΕΝΙ is a misspelling for ΧΣΕΝΙ, which corresponds to the initial letters of Ξέ νιππος and any of its hypocoristics (Ξέ νις, Ξέ νιoς, Ξενί ας, etc.). The editors interpret the target spelling ΧΣ as a nexus of ‘blue’ chi + sigma (i.e. ‘light blue’ xi). This was the regular spelling of [ks] in Attica and in other regions (Paros and Thasos, Aegina, Boeotia, Rhodes) until the late 5th century BCE.29 In principle, a Euboean script should be out of the question since, in the ‘red’ alphabet of the island, [ks] is regularly spelled with the ‘red’ xi in the shape of St. Andrew’s cross (×) or of a cross (+). Even though the editors do not explicitly mention any parallel,30 their analysis of ΣΧΕΝΙ is in line with the sporadic occurrences of ΣΧ ([ks]) for ΧΣ ([ks]) and ΣΦ for ΦΣ ([ps]) in numerous dipinti on Attic vases and in a few inscriptions on stone: cf. ἔγρασφεν for ἔγραφσεν on several vases signed by Epiktetos (active ca. 520–490 BCE);31 Σχενοκλε̑ ς besides Χσενοκλε̑ ς on a vase by the Xenokles painter (mid 6th century BCE);32 Σχανθό ς besides Χσανθό ς on a vase by Psiax (ca. 525–505 BCE);33 σφυχέ̄ (= ψυχή ) in IG I3 1399 = CEG 47, l. 3 (Athens, ca.

_____

28 Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, 369–370. 29 Jeffery 1990, 89ff. and Johnston 1990, 434ff. (Boeotia), Jeffery 1990, 109ff. and Johnston 1990, 438ff. (Aegina), Jeffery 1990, 289, 294ff. and Johnston 1990, 465ff. (Paros), Jeffery 1990, 289, 300ff. and Johnston 1990, 465ff. (Thasos), Jeffery 1990, 345ff. and Johnston 1990, 475ff. (Rhodes). As we will see below, Rhodian and Boeotian ΧΣ has nothing to do with the Attic digraphs ΦΣ and ΧΣ for [ps] and [ks]. These have been explained variously. Hawkins 2012, 126–131, provides an excellent state-of-the-art survey, but his own proposal is unrealistic, viz., that Φ and Χ were an attempt to represent on the stops the turbulent airflow characteristic of /s/ in two consonant clusters which, due to articulatory overlap, were perceived as single articulatory events (Hawkins 2012, 131–132). To my mind, the spellings ΦΣ and ΧΣ in the pre-Euclidean Attic script may not have a strictly phonetic basis, but a discussion of this conundrum is well beyond the scope of this essay. 30 They comment that “the cutter inadvertently inverted the two initial consonants ΧΣ = Ξ into ΣΧ for the transcription of a sound (sic) that was particularly problematic in all the local alphabets” (Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, 370); see also Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I, 312. 31 ARV2, 70–79, pl. 1705. 32 ABV, 186, no. 11. 33 ABV, 293, no. 10.

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525–500? BCE); [ε]ὐ̣σχά μενος and [ε]ὐσχ̣[ά μενος] (= εὐξά μενος) in IG I3 637 = CEG 200, l. 2 (Athens, ca. 510–500? BCE) and IG I3 743 = CEG 248, l. 2 (Athens, ca. 500–480? BCE).34 As we see, the editors’ straightforward interpretation could be perfectly plausible. If it is correct, our skyphos would indicate the presence of someone who did not use the Euboean alphabet and, possibly, did not speak a Euboean vernacular either. This is, however, not the only conceivable explanation. I completely agree with the editors’ premise that ΣΧΕΝΙ is a misspelling for ΧΣΕΝΙ. But the nexus ΧΣ is not perforce an ‘Athenian’ xi. In accordance with the default hypothesis, Methone is expected to have the same script of its mothercity. Under this presupposition, we can interpret ΧΣ in terms of a pleonastic spelling, in which a sigma has been redundantly added to a ‘red’ xi (X).35 This phenomenon occurs in different parts of the Greek world and in different periods. Let us first present some instances of ‘dark blue’ xi with a pleonastic sigma (ΞΣ) or san (ΞM). They have the obvious advantage over XΣ of being completely unambiguous: 1. ϙύ λιξς (SEG 31.838 = IGDS I 80; Selinous, 7th/6th century BCE?); 2. Ϙό ραξς (NAGVI COR 70f; Corinth, 580–570? BCE); 3. Ξσά νθος (NAGVI COR 57h; Corinth, 575–550? BCE); 4. ἔξς (= ἕξ) (IEph 1.A3; Ephesus, ca. 550 BCE),36 SGDI 5653.c5 (Chios, 5th century BCE);37 5. Ἀρχεά ναξς (Lindos 16 = SEG 32.1586, 3–4; Naucratis – Lindos, ca. 450–408/ 407 BCE);38 6. Ἰξσωνος (ΙΞΣΩΝΟΣ on the stone) (Hiller von Gaertringen 1895, no. 2; Camiros, undated). It would be unwise and misguided to assume that redundant sigma was exclusively associated with the ‘dark blue’ xi.39 In fact, the occurrences of XΣ in the

_____ 34 See Threatte 1980, 21, for further examples. 35 Buck 1955, 75. 36 Note the doubling of τ in ἐκ ττῶν δ[ώρων] (A1–2), ἐκ ττο̑ δό ρατος (A3), ἡμί εκττα (B5), etc. 37 Besides πρή ξεσθαι (b20), ἐξέ ληι (c11), etc. 38 Note, however, ἔδοξε (l. 1), Δαμό ξενον (lines 4–5), πρό ξενον (l. 7), ἐξαγωγά ν (lines 13–14). The dialect of this proxeny of Lindos for a citizen of Naucratis is undoubtedly the Doric vernacular of Rhodes with /aː/ in βωλᾶι (l. 1), δά̄ μωι (l. 2), etc., /a/ in ἱαρῶι (l. 9), ἦμεν for Ion. εἶμεν (l. 11), ἰρή ναι for Ion. εἰρή νηι (l. 15) and apocope in ἀγγρά ψαι (lines 6–7, 15–16, 20). Conversely, its alphabet corresponds to the local variety of the Milesian script (‘dark blue’ xi, omega), which must have been used in Naucratis. 39 A spelling Σ occurs in Naxos: e.g. Νά ▯σιος (= Νά ξιος) (ID 1; Delos < Naxos, 620– 600? BCE). According to the prevalent view (Lejeune 1971 and 1972, 72–73; Jeffery 1990, 289,

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regions using a ‘red’ script are significantly more frequent than is suggested by the relevant bibliography, in which most of them are explained away as instances of a ‘light blue’ xi routinely attributed to Attic influence.

A) Rhodes Guarducci has most overtly stated the view that pleonastic ‘red’ XΣ is typical of the Rhodian script.40 These are the possible occurrences:41 1. ϙύ λιξς̣ (Lindos 710, 8th century BCE?); 2. Ἀναξσά νο̄ ρ (Bernand/Masson 1957, no. 2; graffito of Anaxanor of Ialysos, Abu Simbel, ca. 590 BCE); 3. τȏ Πραξσιό δο̄ (Tit.Cam. 160.3; Camiros, ca. 550–525? BCE); 4. κύ λιξς (CEG 460; Camiros, 490–470 BCE).42 Since some of these data are controversial, a few comments are in order. In no. 1 Jeffery transcribes ϙύ λιχς̣ interpreting X as a ‘blue’ chi: “the letter in the break following χ may be an untidy attempt at sigma, since other Rhodian inscriptions show XΣ for ξ”.43 The other editors print ϙύ λιξ τ[--,44 but Johnston rebuts this reading with a persuasive argument: “the sigma would complete a simple statement of ownership while the tau demands a longer inscription than we might have expected at this date”.45

_____ 291; Guarducci 1995, 154),  is a simplified version of eta and represents an h-like sound resulting from the weakening of /k/. For reasons that I will make clear in a future work, I prefer to view Σ as a variant of ΞΣ (Blass 1891; Buck 1955, 189–190). 40 Guarducci 1995, 332. She also suggests (fn. 3) that the spelling Ἀρχεά ναξς in a Lindian proxeny (Naucratis, ca. 450–408/407 BCE), which was mentioned above, might have occurred in the original document written in Lindos. 41 Johnston 1975, 153–156 analyzes the use of the ‘additional’ letters Χ, Ψ and Ξ (and its variants) in the Rhodian texts and concludes that Ialysos had a ‘blue’ script with X = chi, while Camiros and Lindos had a mixed system with ‘red’ chi (Ψ ), but a ‘blue’ xi (the digraph XΣ). Admittedly, X is to be interpreted as a ‘blue’ chi in a number of inscriptions, but, as Johnston himself acknowledges (p. 154), the survey is hampered by many uncertainties concerning the interpretation and the provenance of a number of texts. As my own analysis will make clear, I disagree with Johnston’s assessment of XΣ in the forms quoted above. For reasons that would be too long to expose here, I am not persuaded by his suggestion that the different spellings for [ks] may reflect differences in pronunciation. 42 Jeffery 1990, 349, no. 27, and Johnston 1975, 154, read κύ λιχς. 43 Jeffery 1990, 347. 44 Blinkenberg in Lindos II 710; Guarducci 1995, 328, no. 1; Masson 1973–1974. 45 Johnston 1975, 155.

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In no. 2 the signature of Anaxanor, a mercenary from Ialysos at the service of the Pharaoh Psammetichos II, reads ΑΝΑ ΣΑΝΟΡ with what seems to be a ‘blue’ chi in the shape of an hourglass.46 Since the name of the pharaoh (Ψαμ(μ)έ τιχος) is written with a ‘blue’ chi (X) and a ‘blue’ psi (Ψ), the editors have interpreted ΑΝΑ ΣΑΝΟΡ as Ἀναχσά νο̄ ρ.47 This transcription is, however, questionable. On the one hand, the hourglass shape should correspond to a xi (as attested in Cnidos) rather than to a ‘blue’ chi.48 Even more importantly, the lettering of the pharaoh’s name is discernibly different from that of Anaxanor’s signature. While the mercenary uses an inverted three-stroked sigma49 and his letters are conspicuously elongated, the letters in the pharaoh’s name are more square-shaped and the sigma is four-stroked. Consequently, the odds are that we have a ‘stone palimpsest’ with two unrelated graffiti. A reading Ἀναξσά νο̄ ρ makes better sense. No. 3 (Tit.Cam. 160) is a notoriously difficult text. The reading Πραξσιό δο̄ is uncertain,50 but the letters ΧΣ are unmistakable in the inscription.51 In my opinion, interpreting them with Jeffery as a ‘light blue’ xi is inconsistent with the fact that λέ σχα (l. 2) has a ‘red’ chi.52 In short, the idea that ΧΣ in Rhodes is a ‘light blue’ xi is in all likelihood misconceived. The spellings at issue are best analyzed as instances of ‘red’ xi + redundant sigma.53

_____ 46 Bernard & Masson 1957, 12, think that the upper and lower horizontal strokes of the chi are accidental. 47 Bernand/Masson 1957, no. 2; Jeffery 1990, 356, no. 4b (pl. 67). 48 See Jeffery 1990, 32 and 351. She tentatively suggests that “Knidos originally used, like Rhodes, the combination χσ for ξ, and then by elaborating the [‘red’] X to distinguish it from Knidian [‘blue’] chi was enabled to drop the redundant sigma.” All this is idle speculation. 49 This characteristic type of sigma (Jeffery’s σ2) occurs in several Ialysian graffiti: Jeffery 1990, 356, no. 2 (Ialysos, 650–600? BCE); Bernand/Masson 1957, no. 4 = Jeffery 1990, 356, no. 4a (Abu Simbel, ca. 591 BCE); Johnston 1990, 476, E (Tell Bassit, late 6th century BCE?). 50 Gallavotti 1975–1976, 76–77 (SEG 26.867) reads το̄̓ πραξσί ο̄ (= τȏ Εὐπραξσί ο̄), but a contraction το̄̓ υπραξσί ο̄ should be expected. On the other hand, his interpretation (τωὐπραξσί ου δῶ ‘l’ostello del pacifico’) verges on the ludicrous. 51 In the photograph of the estampage provided by Guarducci 1995, 331, no. 4, fig. 166, I distinctly read a sequence XXΣ. The first letter hardly looks like the alpha that all the editors confidently print. Note that a pleonastic spelling ξξ is not unparalleled (Buck 1955, 75): e.g. ἀξξιομά χος (IG IX.12.3, 609.9; Naupactos, ca. 500 BCE). 52 Jeffery 1990, 356, no. 15, and Johnston 1975. The word λέ σχα confronts us with one more puzzle. As Guarducci (1995, 332, n. 1) notes, the last letter of the word looks like an E, but AtticIonic λέ σχε̄ is inconceivable in a Rhodian text. 53 A presumptive instance of pleonastic sigma occurs on a potsherd found at Gela, a Rhodian colony (SEG 29.889; 550–500 BCE). However, in the absence of any context, we cannot decide

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B) Laconia Moving to the continent, an isolated example of pleonastic ΧΣ occurs in one of the graffiti incised on the throne of Apollo at Amyclae (IG V.1, 832; late 5th century BCE). All the editors print γλαῦχς and Jeffery comments: “possibly the workman who wrote it was not Laconian”. This explanation is uncalled for. If one looks at the facts with an unprejudiced eye, the transcription γλαῦξς is a much more likely option.54

C) Thessaly Further north, we come across an isolated and uncertain example in Thessaly: [παρ]έ̣ ξσε̄ (IG IX.2, 1202.2; Corope, ca. 550 BCE). Interestingly, the Thessalian script seems to derive from the Euboean-Boeotian type.55

D) Boeotia Further instances of pleonastic sigma occur in Boeotia. This is not without significance for Methone Pierias I, no. 22 since the Euboean and Boeotian scripts are akin to each other.56 It is important to note that, for some reason, unlike in the other ‘red’ scripts, where it regularly stands for [ks], X is rare in Boeotia: e.g. Εὐξί θιος (IG VII, 3435; Chaeronea, 450–350 BCE). The nexus ΨΣ (‘red’ chi + sigma) prevails overwhelmingly: e.g. ϝά ναχς, φεφύ λαχσο besides Ἐχέ στροτος (CEG 334; Ptoion, ca. 550–525? BCE), χσέ νοισι besides προμά χοις (CEG 112; Thisbe, ca. 500? BCE), etc.57

_____ whether ΧΣ (an abbreviation?) is to be interpreted as a nexus χσ or as pleonastic ξσ; see Guarducci 1995, 249. 54 Jeffery 1990, 183. The name Τέ χναρχος on the same throne (IG V.1, 823) has a ‘red’ chi (Ψ), but, in this case, its testimony is not compelling, since the two graffiti have been inscribed by different hands. 55 Jeffery 1990, 96. 56 Jeffery 1990, 81. She makes the interesting point that the Eretrian script shares numerous elements with Rhodian and Cretan: “‘A mixture of Rhodian and Cretan’ would be an arbitrary way of describing [the] Eretrian [script], but it would be a plausible one.” 57 The nexus ΨM (‘red’ chi + san) is attested in a metrical dedication on a bronze disk said to come from Cephallenia: Ἐχσοί δα (IG IX.1, 649 = CEG 391; ca. 550? BCE).

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The occurrences of ΧΣ in Boeotia are the following:58 1. ἀργυροτό ξσōι (CEG 326; Thebes?, ca. 700–675? BCE);59 2. πλατυτό ξσōι (CEG 331 = SEG 22.404; Thespiae?, ca. 500–450 BCE);60 3. Ξσενό τιμος (IG VII, 2253; Thisbe, ca. 450–350 BCE); 4. Φό ξσ[ος] (IThesp. IX, 654; late 5th century—ca. 350 BCE).

E) Oropos and Euboea The evidence for redundant sigma in Euboea is slim and not exempt from controversy, but still worthy of consideration: 1. Ἀλεξσομενό ς (IOropos 333; Skala Oropou, ca. 570–560 BCE); 2. πρό ξσενον (?) (IG XII, Suppl. 549A.12; Eretria?, early 5th? century BCE);61 3. εὐξσά μ[ενος] (IG XII.9, 43 = CEG 324; Platanistos, ca. 450? BCE). To my knowledge, none of these ΧΣ spellings has been previously recognised as an instance of pleonastic sigma. In no. 1 (IOropos 333), the editor Vasilios Petrakos prints Ἀλεχσομενό ς. Even though he concedes that the ascription of the dedication is uncertain, he hints at an Attic script by comparing its lettering to that of two Attic inscriptions. He further notes that the name Ἀλεξομενό ς occurs in Athens, but not in Oropos or in Boeotia. Acording to Laurent Dubois, the inscription is written in a mixed alphabet combining the Eretrian lambda

_____ 58 ΧΣ occurs on a marble stele found in Orchomenos (CEG 150; ca. 500–475? BCE), but its content, its script and its dialect betray a Naxian origin so that we possibly must read Ἀλχσή νο̄ ρ̣ and Νά χσιος with ‘light blue’ xi rather than Ἀλξσή νο̄ ρ̣ and Νά ξσιος with ‘red’ xi + pleonastic sigma. 59 For this reading, see Guarducci 1995, 144 and 146. She is, however, mistaken in stating that this is the only instance of pleonastic sigma in Boeotia. Jeffery 1990, 402, Hansen in CEG 326 and Vottéro 2002, 71, transcribe ἀργυροτό χσōι. Vottéro goes as far as explicitly ascribing this spelling to Attic influence, but the reading χσ is contradicted by the fact that /kh/ is written with Ψ (‘red’ chi) in χαρί ϝετταν. 60 The editors of this inscription (cf. SEG 22.404 and Johnston 1990, 434, no. 15a) unanimously read πλατυτό χσο̄ ι. Daux 1961, 585, regards “la combinaison du groupe XΣ” as a diagnostic feature of the Boeotian script like “alpha à sommet écrasé” and ‘Chalcidian’ lambda (= α5 and λ1 in Jeffery 1990, 23 and 30). Surprisingly, Guarducci 1962, who adopts Daux’ reading, fails to comment on the spelling XΣ; neither does she include any mention of this text in Guarducci 1995. 61 Jeffery 1990, 88, no. 15; Knoepfler 2001, 69–76, no. I. Knoepfler notes that the provenance of the stone is uncertain. He favors a date after the anti-Athenian uprising suppressed by Pericles in 446 BCE.

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(“forme… sans doute érétrienne”) with the digraph ΧΣ (“typique de l’attique pour ξ”).62 An ascription to Attica is, however, not compelling. First, the lack of positive evidence in other regions is no proof that the name was exclusive to Athens. Second, the lettering could be indifferently Attic or Euboean. The ‘Ionic’ inverted lambda (Jeffery’s λ2)63 is rare in both scripts. The most reasonable interpretation is that the dedication was addressed to the local hero Amphiaraos by someone from Oropos, an Eretrian enclave on the continent, where the Eretrian ‘red’ script must have been used. The transcription Ἀλεξσομενό ς with pleonastic sigma ΧΣ is thus perfectly feasible. In no. 2, the editors read εὐχσά μ[ενος] with “Attic χσ for xi”,64 but, as Jeffery admits, rounded delta (δ4) and tailed rho (ρ3) point to Euboea.65 In my opinion, a redundant sigma is a far better option than a mixed script. The case of no. 3 (IG XII, Suppl. 549A.12) is more complicated.66 The dialect of this proxeny in honor of a certain Aristoteles, is distinctly non-Attic: ἐ̣ π̣ιμε̄ ν̣[ι]ευού ρε̄ ς (lines 5–6) (Att. ἐπιμηνιευού σης) and ἀδ̣ελφε[ό̄ ς] (l. 14) (Att. ἀδελφού ς). Jeffery holds that the script might be Attic,67 with the caveat that “the closed eta would be abnormal in Attic, perhaps slightly less so in Eretrian at this date”.68 In a similar vein, Knoepfler suggests that the cutter may have been an Athenian.69 They base this conclusion on the spelling ΠΡΟΧΣΕΝΟΝ (with a cross-shaped X) (l. 12), which all the editors, without exception, interpret as πρό χσενον with an ‘Attic’ xi. Purportedly, the Attic character of the script is further confirmed by Χ̣ειλο̄ νίο̄ (l. 11), the name of the honorand’s father, whose first letter is, according to the majority of editors, a ‘blue’ chi.70 However, this reading is problematic

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62 BÉ 2000.203. 63 Jeffery 1990, 30. 64 Jeffery 1990, 79 refers to her no. 16 (= IG XII.9, 287). This reference is obviously mistaken since the text does not include any [ks] cluster. 65 Jeffery 1990, 87. 66 I gratefully acknowledge Marisa del Barrio’s and Jaime Curbera’s help with this text. 67 Jeffery 1990, 79–80. The idea of Attic script goes back to the first editor Peek 1934, no. 34. 68 Jeffery & Johnston 1990, 86. 69 Knoepfler 2001, 71. He also notes that the text after the erasure (lines 9–10) is written in stoichedon style, which is typical of —but by no means exclusive to— Attic inscriptions. 70 Wallace 1936; Ziebarth in IG XII, Suppl.; Knoepfler 2001. Jeffery is an exception. She did not fill in the blank of the letter chi in the corresponding index card of Anne Jeffery’s archive, which is accessible through the Poinikastas website (; consulted on 23/03/2013).

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on several counts. First, counter to expectations in a proxeny, the honorand lacks an ethnic. It could be the case that the word in question is an ethnic rather than a patronymic.71 Second, the hapax Χειλώνιος is explained as a derivative of widespread Χεί λων, but Knoepfler notes that this derivative would be idiosyncratic.72 As far as personal names are concerned, the suffix -ιος can only be combined with names of gods: Ἀπό λλων > Ἀπολλώνιος, Παιών > Παιώνιος, etc. In order to sort out this difficulty, Knoepfler reads an accusative Χειλό̄ νιο[ν], which he interprets as a patronymic adjective of the Aeolic type common in neighboring Boeotia. However, this solution is unconvincing since a patronymic adjective of that kind is unparalleled in Euboea. Even more to the point, the very existence of an X in the inscription raises serious doubts. No letter is legible in the excellent high-resolution photograph accessible at the Arachne database of the Deutsches Archäologisches Institut (DAI) and the Institute of Archaeology of the University of Cologne.73 Jaime Curbera has kindly checked for me Ziebarth’s estampage of the proxeny in the archives of Inscriptiones Graecae (Berlin) and has informed me that only the lower part of a vertical bar is discernible. No vestiges of the horizontal bar of a crossshaped ‘blue’ xi are visible. The vertical bar could correspond to a tau or possibly to a tailed ‘red’ chi (Ψ).74 Moreover, the third letter seems more like a lambda. Actually, Peek read [Τ]ΕΛΛΟΝ in his editio princeps.75 In short, the letters following the name of the honorand remain a problem. The presence of an ‘Attic’ chi in our inscription is far from certain and, consequently, until further proof is given, I see no reason why the spelling ΠΡΟΧΣΕΝΟΝ should be transcribed as πρό χσενον with a ‘blue’ xi rather than as πρό ξσενον with a ‘red’ xi and a redundant sigma.

_____ 71 I have not been able to come up with any convincing conjecture. 72 Knoepfler 2001, 71–72. 73 consulted on 23/03/2013). 74 Note that the hypsilon is tailed. The tailed ‘red’ chi occurs in the dedication of the Eretrian Aienautai, but the date of this text is disputed: ca. 510–500? BCE (SEG 34.898), ca. 400? BCE (Johnston 1990, 433, no. 21a). 75 Peek 1934, 73–77, no. 34.

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F) Leontini Further confirmation may come from Leontini, a Sicilian colony founded by settlers from Naxos of Sicily in 729 BCE, itself a colony founded in 735 BCE by settlers from Chalcis in Euboea, possibly with the participation of some Naxians. A spelling ΧΣ (Σ with three strokes) occurs in a dedication in false boustrophedon on the lip of an Etruscan kantharos (SEG 53.1008; late 5th century BCE):76 [Λ]εύ κιος μ’ [ἀνέ θε̄ κε] [— —]ο̄ ἐξσελ[ε][ύ ]θερο[ς].

The editors, beginning with Rizza, read ἐχσελ[ε|ύ ]θερο[ς].77 Manganaro comments that χσ for ξ is typical of Attica and the Cyclades. Dubois invokes Athenian influence to account for a mixed script with Attic ΧΣ and ‘Chalcidian’ lambda (“lambda crochet”).78 Johnston holds that the alphabet of the dedication is not Euboean, since ΧΣ for ξ “is not seen in Euboea or in its colonies, as far as can be ascertained”.79 Obviously, this statement is at odds with the evidence quoted above. In principle, a transcription ἐξσελεύ θερος with redundant sigma cannot be ruled out.80 Let us note in this connection that the pleonastic spelling XS is also fairly common in early Latin inscriptions:81 e.g. exstrad in the Senatus consultum de Bacchanalibus (CIL I2 586; 186 BCE), uixsit (CIL I2 1761; 1st century BCE). XS may have been borrowed from the Euboean script of Cyme, from which the Latin alphabet evolved via the Etruscans, but it is more likely that the spelling arose independently in Latium.82

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76 The vessel was found in a sanctuary located at a distance of approximately 1 km from the site of ancient Leontini. I am indebted to Francesca dell’Oro for calling my attention to this inscription. 77 Rizza 2003. See also Manganaro 2004, 62–63 (SEG 53.1008), Grasso 2008, 69, no. 281. 78 L. Dubois, Bulletin Épigraphique 2005, no. 636. According to Dubois, the graffito is more recent than the vase (ca. 435–430 BCE) and should be dated ca. 400 BCE. 79 Johnston 2010, 151. 80 Note, however, that ‘blue’ xi (Ξ) seems to be attested together with ‘blue’ chi (X) in a list of names inscribed on a bronze tablet from Leontinoi (late 5th century BCE) (Manganaro 2004, 61–62 = SEG 54.925 = IGDS II, nο. 8): Ἀναξαρέ τα (Ἀναξαρέ τας Manganaro). ̣ ̣ 81 Leumann 1977, 15; Wachter 1987, 294–295. 82 Wachter’s 1987, 497–498, suggestion that pleonastic XS was introduced by some of the numerous Greek schoolmasters that taught at Rome in the 2nd century BCE is fanciful. Pace Wachter, Latin XS has nothing to do with the digraph ΧΣ of the Attic archaic alphabet.

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Thus, the inversion of pleonastic sigma in Methonaean ΣΧΕΝΙ is not without parallels. As could be expected, misspellings of this type are extremely rare since they involve two phenomena (pleonastic sigma and letter inversion) that are rare on their own. I have come across two such misspellings in two late inscriptions: Ἰσξί ωνος = Ἰξί ωνος (Hiller von Gaertringen 1895, no. 3; Lindos, undated)83 Ἀλέ σξανδρος (Ismyrn. 492, Esmirna, 1st-2nd century CE). A spelling ΣΧΕΝΗΡΕΤΟΣ for Ξενή ρετος occurs in a graffito on the walls of Carthaia (Ceos) (IG XII.5, 566.3; ca. 475–450? BCE). In this case, ΣΧ is likely to be an instance of inverted ‘light blue’ xi (ΧΣ), since the dedication of Alcidamas from Siphnos (IG XII.5, 611 = CEG 410; ca. 525–500 BCE) has a ‘blue’ chi (X).84 Yet, this seems to be at variance with the evidence of a later inscription (IG XII.5, 648; ca. 475–450? BCE), which is “reputed to have shown the ‘red’ chi […] perhaps through Euboic influence”.85 If this is true, ΣΧΕΝΗΡΕΤΟΣ could be an instance of inverted ‘red’ xi + pleonastic sigma, the target spelling being Ξσενή ρετος.

5. Conclusion None of the alphabetic and linguistic features of the graffiti from Methone substantiate Tzifopoulos’ claim that the alphabet and the dialect of the colony were a mixture of multifarious elements reflecting the heterogeneity of its settlers. The few dialect features attested are not incompatible with a Euboean vernacular. The script looks perfectly Eretrian. The spelling ΣΧΕΝΙ for ΧΣΕΝΙ in Methone Pierias I, no. 22, which, at first sight, could bear witness to the use of an Atticlike script, is best accounted for as an instance of ‘red’ xi + a redundant sigma (sc. Ξσενι-). Pleonastic ΧΣ occurs in different regions with a ‘red’ script: Rhodes, Laconia, Thessaly, Boeotia and, most importantly, Euboea and the Euboean colony Leontini in Sicily. The evidence cited proves beyond all reasonable doubt that pleonastic ΧΣ with a ‘red’ xi would be perfectly at home in an Eretrian colony like Methone. Methone may have been a panhellenic, multi-dialectal and multi-alphabetic city, but, for the time being, the epigraphical evidence does not lend support to such a hypothesis.

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83 Note pleonastic sigma in Ἰξσωνος cited above. 84 Cf. also ΧΣ in the Naxian inscription from Boeotia cited in n. 58 above. 85 Jeffery 1990, 297–298.

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| Part III: Graphê and Culture

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Niki Oikonomaki

Local ‘Literacies’ in the Making: Early Alphabetic Writing and Modern Literacy Theories* Niki Oikonomaki Local ‘Literacies’ in the Making

Abstract: This paper discusses early alphabetic writing by applying modern literacy theories and aims at reconstructing the ancient literacy event as a social act in terms of temporal, spatial, and material analysis. It is argued that an examination of the key constituents of a specific literacy event, namely inscribed object, inscriber, reader, text, space, and time, offers an understanding of the geographically and socially located ancient literacy. Early alphabetic inscriptions on pots, a ‘socially open’ writing medium, are viewed as a ‘sensible’ experience and as the visible evidence of literacy at the time of its production, consumption, and perception. Thus, inscribed pottery from Methone, part of an alphabetic network, is representative of the many facets of literacy from a micro-level aspect of the specifically located literacy act to a macro-level aspect of epigraphic practices and habits as literacy emerges as a value.

This inquiry aims to interpret the epigraphic data through a more theoretical point of view, beyond the “artificial oppositions between different kinds of disciplines”,1 using the inscriptions from Methone dated from the late 8th century BCE as a case study from a perspective of modern literacy theories.2 Literacy studies, instead of the general term ‘literacy’, propose a more specific terminology, which focuses on literacy events and literacy practices related to the use of reading and writing in specific social activities.3 Rosalind Thomas points out that classical studies tend to embrace neologisms as “multi-literacies” to describe ancient literacy in different social, political, and cultural contexts, taking into account the “local specialisms in the use of writing.”4 The discussion of the early epigraphic finds within the framework of multi-literacies and multi-

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* I wish to thank the organizers of this conference for their invitation. I am also grateful to Antonis Kotsonas for his feedback, Maria Theodoropoulou for her advice on linguistic bibliography, and Angelos Boufalis for reading a draft of this paper. 1 Preucel 2006, 2. 2 Brockmeier/Olson 2009, 3–21 present in detail the literacy episteme in the 20th century. Werner 2009 in a bibliographical essay discusses the many-faceted works on ancient literacy. 3 Johnson 2000, 600–602 and 2009, 3. 4 Thomas 2009a, 13–15 and 2009b, 348.

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localities enables us to examine the ways in which literacy was produced and consumed in ancient society and lead us to reconsider local literacies in the making. Studying local literacies, literacy events, and the system of their production and consumption along with epigraphic and archaeological data is an interdisciplinary way of understanding and conceptualizing the multiple functions of ancient Greek literacy. It is tempting to see epigraphy as a “semiotic enterprise”, as Robert Preucel does for archaeology,5 and focus especially on the way that material, text, and sign system produce meaning in a community situated in place and time. Approaching ancient literacy in terms of temporal, spatial and material analysis,6 the aim is to pass from the key constituents of the specific literacy event – inscribed object, text, inscriber, reader, space, and time – to the literacy practice and epigraphic habits.

Literacy event Literacy as a set of social practices incorporates literacy events mediated by the written text. Barton and Hamilton define the three components of the social theory of literacy: practices as cultural ways of utilising literacy, events as activities where literacy has a role, and texts as crucial part of literacy events.7 According to this approach the literacy event is identified as a mixture of written and spoken language and as an integral part of a range of semiotic systems including texts or other non-text based activities. The study of “text-oriented events embedded in particular sociocultural contexts”8 is a qualitative perspective on analysing literacy. A qualitative, instead of a statistical numerical, approach is concerned with the reconstitution of the literacy event, in which the written text has a role, either central or peripheral. On the contrary, former studies regarding ancient literacy usually examine the percentage of literate people in ancient societies and overlook a more qualitative evaluation of the phenomenon of alphabetic literacy. William Harris

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5 Preucel 2006, 2–5 explains the lack of engagement between archaeology and semiotics, advocates a semiotic approach based upon the Peircean theory of signs, and reconsiders material culture as social practice. See also Merrell 2001, 31–37 and Watts 2008, 193–194, for the concept of Peircean signs (icon, index, and symbol). 6 Meskell/Preucel 2007b, 3–8 review the different characterizations of the social in archaeology with relevant bibliography and point out that social archaeology is located at the intersections of spatiality, temporality, and materiality. 7 Barton/Hamilton 1998, 8–9 and 13–14. 8 Johnson/Parker 2009, 3.

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suggests that literacy until the 5th century CE was a “single phenomenon” and that a very small percentage of Greeks were literate before 600 BCE.9 There is no simple answer to Harris’ simple question of “how many people could read and write”, for the early period of alphabetic writing remains obscure due to insufficient archaeological, literary, and epigraphic evidence. Since the majority of perishable inscribed material is now lost, statistic results, especially for interpreting early epigraphic data, may be misleading. Given our fragmentary knowledge, statistics and accurate conclusions based on them are rather precarious, and as Thomas notes “our discussion must be provisional” as new and often surprising material could appear.10 On the other hand, early epigraphic finds provide small but extremely important representative samples of a larger unspecific amount of epigraphic material, which reflects epigraphic habits and social practices of ancient societies. The combined examination of literacy event, object, text, inscriber, reader, and epigraphic practice enhances understanding of the social theory of literacy. The empirical and observable character of literacy events in relation to the more abstract epigraphic practices of a particular community constitutes an approach to literacy in spatial and temporal terms. We deal, therefore, with local literacies situated in place and time, instead of ancient Greek literacy in general. It is crucial to understand literacy first as a located act, inseparable from its constituents (writing medium, inscriber, reader, social community, place, and time), and second as a general Greek phenomenon. However the reconstitution of the literacy event is a complicated procedure, for inscribed objects are usually found out of their initial context. The inscribed pottery from Methone was discarded in a deep shaft (called “Ypogeio”) and consequently much useful information has been lost and the archaeological and epigraphic study of the inscribed pots offers only a partial reconstruction of the literacy event. Pottery typology in relation to inscribed text provides information about the social activity, in which the particular vessel was used. It should be noted that pots were not produced to serve as a writing medium, but for other practical or ritual purposes, and writing on them was a choice of the inscriber. Inscribed amphorae are associated with trade activity, whereas inscribed drinking vessels often imply a sympotic or ritual context. The link between inscribed drinking vessels and literacy event is rather unclear. Inscribed names declare ownership, but the literacy act of which this declaration was part of is not indicated. Presumably, the literacy event could involve sympotic or ritual activity, but only the metrical inscription of Hakesandros is clearly associ-

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9 Harris 1989, 3 and 49. Wilson 2009, 544. 10 Thomas 2009a, 15.

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ated with a sympotic context. The pre-firing N on the Samian amphora (Methone Pierias I, 362–4, no. 17) is probably a potter’s mark, but the two post-firing letters are interpreted within the framework of production, transportation, and consumption procedure, due to the type of the vessel. Three letters inscribed probably by different hands on the same pot attest to three subsequent literacy events, all linked with trading activity. From the potter’s workshop to the trader and perhaps the owner of this amphora, evidence suggests that the particular object was part of different social contexts involving different people and serving different purposes each time. These different literacy events situated in place and time imply the multiple functions of literacy and incorporate economic and social relationships along with cultural attitudes and values.

The inscribed object In this paper the emphasis is especially on pots, since the inscribed material from the “Ypogeio” at Methone is pottery. Portable inscribed objects such as pots offer the opportunity to study the inscription together with the inscribed object and make contextual assumptions. In the period of early alphabetic writing characterized by the sudden appearance of inscribed artefacts, usually the writing medium is a vessel, since pottery was the most common non-perishable material, which was easy to find, carry and scratch on. Pots are in fact a ‘socially open’ material, since almost everyone could own a simple undecorated drinking pot, whereas not everyone could have a valuable metal object. Furthermore, pots are objects of everyday life and integral parts of social events, which could involve literacy act. Pottery, as Robin Osborne and Alexandra Pappas argue, communicate by their shape, by their decoration and by what is written upon them.11 Consequently, the written text does not represent the complete meaning of the literacy act, but only a part of it, which may sometimes not even be the most important.12 An inscribed pot is not simply the medium which carries the inscription, and the message is not only the written text, but to recall Marshall McLuhan’s famous phrase “the medium is the message.”13 First, the choice of the medium itself has certain implications. Pottery, as a common writing medium from the 8th century BCE onwards, has a significant role in literacy

_____ 11 Osborne/Pappas, 2007, 131–132. 12 Kress 2001, 69–72 discusses the specialization of functions between image and writing. 13 McLuhan 1994, 13. Havelock 1982, 74 notices that the content of the message depends upon the efficiency of the script used.

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events; a pot is a usable object produced to be seen and has a particular but also flexible function within a community, i.e. as a drinking, transporting, or votive vessel. Thus, writing on pots indicates the social expansion of literacy in different social groups and individuals who did not have access to writing before alphabetic script. Inscriptions on pots, often taken as a sign of individual literacy, are in fact part of community literacy, because the text, though written by an individual, acquires its meaning within a social group, such as a community of traders or a group of literate aristocrats. Hence, pots produce meaning or complete the meaning of the written text. The playful text inscribed on Hakesandros’ skyphos acquires its ironical contradiction between the value of the skyphos and the thief’s severe punishment only if someone has the object in front of his eyes.14 The inexpensive clay vessel underlines the ironical connotations of the written text, which would have a literal meaning, only if it had been inscribed on a valuable object. If Hakesandros’ skyphos were the unique example of this type, the interpretation of the text would probably remain uncertain. But the similarities among the slightly later Tataie’s lekythos with the formula of the thief’s punishment and the contemporary Nestor’s cup and earlier Dipylon oinochoe suggest that Hakesandros’ skyphos is not an isolated metrical inscription but a part of a sympotic epigraphic habit diffused in place and time. The decoding of the inscribed pot is a challenging task. An inscribed pot was a “hot medium”15 for the ancient audience, as they could understand its use and meaning at least at the moment that an event took place, but it is a “cool medium” for us, because so much has to be filled in in order to understand the primary context or textual connotations. Thus, in the case of inscribed full or abbreviated names, the ancient participants in the literacy event understood the meaning of the inscription; they probably were participating in the same activity, saw the inscriber or the owner and knew to whom the written text was addressed. On the contrary, at the present time the object is disconnected from the event, its time and occasionally its place (since it is often found out of its initial context) and the interpretation of literacy act and text is more complicated. But of course, in some cases the object could be puzzling even to the ancient viewer. The initial meaning and connotations of the bird scratched on the kotyle (Methone Pierias I, 386, no. 35), which communicates with the other painted birds

_____ 14 In Methone Pierias I, 313–314 and 342–343, Tzifopoulos discusses the “theft motive” texts on sympotic vessels. 15 McLuhan 1994, 22–23 suggests the terms ‘cool’ and ‘hot’ medium to describe the differences between media of ‘high’ and ‘low definition’ based on the amount of the information provided. Interestingly, he uses as paradigms of cool and hot medium hieroglyphics and phonetic alphabet respectively.

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on the vase in what was perhaps a playful comment,16 were probably lost immediately after the incision. From a broader semiotic perspective inscribing on pots is an experience of the senses. In contemporary literate societies the phonetic alphabet, as a unique visual medium, gives to its user “an eye for an ear” diminishing the role of sound, touch, and taste,17 whereas an inscribed pot in this early ‘illiterate’ society is a ‘sensible’ object, as it is perceived by the senses. An inscribed pot, as a material tangible object,18 engages with all five senses: the participant in the literacy event sees the pot and the written text, touches the object and the inscribed letters, probably hears someone reading the text aloud, and finally in many cases smells and tastes the content of the cup. To be part of this event means that someone communicates both ways, mentally through the written text and physically through his senses. Vision might be the most important of all the senses, because it allows someone to see the object and read the text, and it should be noted that the hypothetical thief of Tataie’s and probably Hakesandros’ pot is threatened by its owner with loss of vision. Thus, in the case of these early inscriptions on objects, the inscribed text cannot be separated from its carrier. The inscribed vessels from Methone are representative paradigms of the five senses experience. The potter made the vessel with his hands and in some cases left his mark on it (pre-fired N on Methone Pierias I, 362–4, no. 17 and painted cross on Methone Pierias I, 421–2, no. 80), the symposiast, dedicator, or owner touched the pot and in some or all the cases inscribed it and finally tasted or smelled its content. Furthermore, the inscription is placed on the pot in a visible manner; all the inscriptions, except the cross on the base of a later 6th century BCE Ionian cup, are incised on the upper part of the vessel (lips, neck, handles, and upper part of the body).19 Finally, the inscription is made to be heard as probably the owner or the participant in the symposion reads the text aloud, at least in the case of poetic inscriptions, which are engaged with oral performance. The flexibility of the pot as a writing medium is noteworthy. Clay, bronze, lead, or wooden tablets, and papyri, are made for writing and they function at least initially as writing media. In contrast, pots are produced to serve other

_____ 16 In Methone Pierias I, 309, Tzifopoulos interprets the scratched bird both as a communicative sign and as a sarcastic comment on the decorative pattern of painted birds. 17 McLuhan 1994, 83–84. 18 Volioti 2011, 140–142 places emphasis on the material nature of objects and of people interacting with them drawing attention to the visual and sensual dimensions of materiality. 19 Kotsonas 2012, 113–304 discusses the localization of the inscriptions and marks on different vessel parts.

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needs either practical as domestic objects or ritual in a votive or funerary context. However, all pots could have multiple potential uses, for example a simple drinking cup could have a second use as a votive or funeral offering. Graffiti or inscriptions on pots could be correlated with the initial use of the object, e.g. in the case that the owner signs his own cup to declare that it belongs to him. In other cases, the inscription indicates the new role of the pot. A metrical inscription on the Hakesandros’ skyphos converts a simple drinking cup to a sympotic vessel, ascribing to it meaning and value. Nestor’s cup and the Dipylon oinochoe similarly bear a sympotic inscription and consequently a value, which is derived not always from the object itself (the Dipylon oinochoe was made by the famous Dipylon Master), but also from the inscribed text. Since the skyphos from Methone is out of its initial context, it is not possible to specify its social or personal value caused by the incision. But Nestor’s cup and the Dipylon oinochoe were drinking vessels, inscribed probably in a sympotic context, but eventually buried as a ‘valuable’ personal possession. Thus, the inscription attributed to these pots a personal emotional value. To sum up, in addition to their practical uses, pots as writing media produce meaning and integrate the five senses in literacy activities. Therefore, perception and interpretation of the inscribed text are a synthesis of meaning and connotations produced by text and inscribed object.

The inscriber The inscriber’s identity, profession and social status remain an intriguing issue. The name on the pot could belong to the inscriber, but it could be incised by another person upon the request of the owner as well. Although some inscriptions can be attributed to potters, painters, or traders, the social status of the inscriber is not evident. Is he a literate aristocrat, a semi-literate, or an illiterate who just copies a writing pattern? Did Hakesandros, Philion, Antekydes or even Tataie inscribe their pots? There is no simple answer to these questions, but certain epigraphic characteristics could enlighten the discussion. Form and type of the inscription, display of the text on the object, errors, and writing skill in general could be useful for identifying the portrait of the inscriber. Given that there is no need for special technical skills to scratch on a clay object, as there probably is for metal or stone, inscriptions or graffiti on pots are often incised by the owner.20 Thus, an elaborate carefully incised inscription on a sympotic vessel

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20 Baird/Taylor 2011b, 7 underline that there is no prerequisite of money, skill, and literacy for the production and consumption of ‘informal’ forms of writing, such as graffiti.

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points towards a skilled inscriber; Hakesandros and Philion could be literate individuals who incised their own pots. But less careful inscriptions from nonexperts are also important for the general picture of ancient literacy, because they indicate its expansion beyond a limited group of literate individuals. The variety of the inscriptions and the different writing skills show that they cannot be a product of official literate scribes. They seem to be the result of a literacy activity extending to many aspects of everyday life, which accordingly involves people of different social and economic status. From the moment that literacy was not serving only limited bureaucratic purposes, but was used and controlled by individuals, expansion beyond restricted social or professional borders was inevitable. The ability to read and write was not a mass phenomenon, but the spread of functional literacy, or the concept of literacy itself from the 8th century BCE on different social groups affected its later evolution. New alphabetic literacy is, at least theoretically, open and accessible to everyone and not a restricted privilege of official scribes. Philion, Hakesandros, Antekydes and the inscribers of the Methone pots are participating in the literacy event as individuals, deciding to write the particular text, and sometimes inscribing it on the pot. Besides the inscriber’s social status, the appearance of personal names is noteworthy. The common characteristic of early alphabetic inscriptions is the display of names or other identity information on the pot. This identity statement as a declaration of the name of dedicator, owner, or craftsman, indicates the emphasis on the individual. Although it is believed that the revolutionary technology of phonetic alphabet played a significant role to this social change,21 probably thinking in “such dramatic terms”22 and ascribing to the alphabetic script radical cognitive and social changes is a deterministic approach. It cannot be argued that the alphabet caused the emergence of the individual and accordingly the cultural and intellectual evolution of modern society. However, a close examination of early literacy shows that the appearance of the individual and the alphabetic script are closely connected and probably the simple new writing system facilitated such social, cultural, and cognitive process. Modern sociocultural studies imply another point of view for ‘identity’ as “an ongoing social process of self-making” and accordingly describe literacy as a “developing command of literacy practices that are recognized as legitimate” and literate, as a person practicing his skill “in a legitimate context for a legitimate audience.”23 Thus, literacy is not only the act of an individual, but has also

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21 McLuhan 1994, 84. 22 Wilson 2009, 544. 23 Bartlett 2008, 37.

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to be seen in its social context as a specific situated skill and not as a general theoretical conception. The ‘literate’ person needs a certain social context and addresses an audience, which understands the literacy process and it is familiar with such activities, either being able to read and write or not. The audience, probably partly or fully illiterate, is not always able to read the written text, but it is in position to ascribe value to the literacy act. It is really tempting to approach this early formation of an identity both ways, as the earliest attempts of individuals to escape anonymity in a changing period, but also in literacy terms as an attempt to seem and to feel literate.24 From this point of view, informal scratches, or early abecedaria25 and nonsense inscriptions26 can be explained as an effort of the inscriber, who probably already feels literate, to seem literate by demonstrating his literacy to the community. Charles Bazerman argues that literacy, besides its social consequences, affects also the development of the individual, both in psychological and cognitive terms, and the construction of communal and individual self-image.27 Thus, literacy, as the ability to write and read, emerges as a value and gradually obtains ethical, social, and political implications.

The reader On the grounds of literacy analysis, the focus is not only on writing but also on reading, since the reader is always present and affects the conception and implementation of the writing act and the written text. Reading is discussed here not as a cognitive act, which probably does not essentially differ in ancient and modern society,28 but rather as part of particular literacy events. William Johnson points out that reading is not an individual phenomenon, but a sociocul-

_____ 24 Bartlett 2008, 38 points out the interpersonal (seeming) and intrapersonal (feeling) level of identity work. 25 Ghinatti 2004–2005 records the early Greek abecedaria; West 2015 explores the relation between early abecedaria and literacy. 26 Immerwahr 2006, 140. For a possible interpretation of some “nonsense” inscriptions on late archaic and early classical Athenian vases as non-Greek words see Mayor/Colarusso/ Saunders 2014. 27 Bazerman 2006, 215–218 discusses Goody’s theory of social and individual consequences of literacy. See also Cook-Gumperz 2006, 1–2, for the sociopolitical value of literacy in modern societies. 28 Gavrilov 1997, 58–61 and 68–69, examines ancient silent reading in antiquity from the perspective of modern psychology and concludes that silent reading was a quite ordinary practice in classical Athens and possibly in earlier periods. Johnson 2000, 610–612 describes the cognitive model of ancient reading in prose literary texts as part of the whole “culture of reading”.

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tural system in which the individual participates.29 Early epigraphic finds are extremely important for the reconstitution of the reading culture due to the lack of literary evidence. Emphasis must be placed not on the percentage of people who could read a text or on the practice of silent reading, but rather on the necessity of reading as a social act in the particular period. Scholars examine the issue of silent reading mostly from the classical period onwards. However, the major problem of the period under discussion is that there are no inscriptions that preserve longer texts, which would probably have been written on papyrus or other perishable material. Thus, we do not have the evidence of written documents, in order to make assumptions first about possible readers and second about silent reading. The epigraphic evidence is limited in short texts with owner’s formula and very few metrical inscriptions which consist of one to three verses. The common characteristic of these inscriptions is that they are inscribed on pots and they were part of a social literacy act with a possible performative character, so it is probably to be expected that their text was read aloud. Epigraphic characteristics are almost the only criteria for arguing about techniques of reading in the period of early alphabetic literacy, which probably has substantial differences from the late Archaic or Classical period, as a writing and reading culture was not yet an established practice. The placement of the text on the pot in a visible manner means that it addresses an audience, but it is not certain that this audience perceives the inscription as a text or as an image and aesthetic piece. The inscription on Nestor’s cup is very carefully incised in three lines, with punctuation marks after every word or semantic cluster. The placement of the inscription however in the lower part of the body and the decoration of the pot with bands rendered in dark slip makes reading a difficult task. In fact, the possible reader must lift the cup in front of his face and look very carefully to discern the inscribed letters. On the other hand, on Hakesandros’ skyphos, the Dipylon oinochoe, and Tataie’s lekythos, the letters are more discernible but they are incised around the body of the pot. This practice implies rather an aesthetic perception of script, which follows the shape and the decoration of the pot, as the act of reading is not the central thought of the inscriber. Additional problems of readability appear: in Tataie’s lekythos the three lines are separated at random and every line does not end with the end of the word; in Hakesandros’ skyphos it is not easy to find the beginning of the text as the circle of the inscribed letters closes and the last letters are incised out of it. Consequently, the possible reader moves the pot and not his eyes to read the inscription, and he does not have the full image of the text in front of him. Of

_____ 29 Johnson 2000, 601–603.

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course, ancient readers were more familiar with retrograde writing and scriptio continua, but reading remains a difficult task, and the reader has to decode the text not only as meaning, but also as image. Furthermore, punctuation marks or lack thereof are crucial for understanding, though not easy to interpret, the ancient conception of the written text.30 In the period under discussion punctuation is not used in a uniform way. Some inscriptions do not have any punctuation marks, whereas others use dots or strokes almost after every word. This difference could be explained as the free choice of the inscriber, as a characteristic of particular local scripts, or as a sign of evolution of the script, which does not happen simultaneously in all areas of the Greek world. However, each of these options seems to be problematic. Actually the presence or absence of punctuation in a text is closely connected with the perception of writing and reading. Nowadays some crucial inventions completely changed the comprehension of the written text: the separation between words by a small gap, the distinction between capital and small letters, the use of the capital letter at the beginning of every sentence, and a complete system of punctuation marks.31 Punctuation in later inscriptions or in modern texts facilitates reading and provides a decoding of script and an interpretation of its meaning. For this reason punctuation normally divides text into syntactic units and semantic clusters with a complete meaning and defines the relations among them. But early punctuation marks separate the text into words or very small semantic units; these visible word dividers parse the text into separate words, possibly helping the reading process, but at the same time deconstructing the text as a whole. On the other hand the complete lack of punctuation in ancient inscriptions leads to a similar result regarding the conception of the text’s meaning. Of course the ancient reader, who in many cases was also a native speaker of the Greek language, was able to recognize the end of a word in this continuous string of letters even without dividing marks. However, the reading act was in both cases a difficult task, which requires the reader’s ability to separate words, identify their meaning within the broader context of a sentence, and finally to assign meaning to the text as a whole. Inscriptions from Methone are short texts usually of names or abbreviated forms of them. Therefore, only two of them might be expected to have some

_____ 30 Perlman 2002, 188–194 discusses the use of vertical strokes between words or groups of words and of sigla to indicate the end of the text in the earliest laws of Gortyn, inscribed on the walls of the temple of Apollo Pythios, possibly from the middle of the 7th century to the first half of the 5th century BCE. See also Oikonomaki 2010, 84–85 and 105–108, for an analytic discussion of punctuation in early alphabetic Cretan inscriptions. 31 Tsantsanoglou 2007, 1326.

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punctuation marks: the owner inscription of Philion (Methone Pierias I, 337–9, no. 1) and the metrical inscription of Hakesandros (Methone Pierias I, 339–43, no. 2). The first, even if it consists only of two words could possibly have a punctuation mark separating the name from the verb (cf. on Nestor’s cup the dots after the name32). The second one preserves a longer text, where punctuation marks possibly could be expected. It is not certain that there was no punctuation, since the text is only partially preserved, but if there were any, probably dots would be used as on Nestor’s cup, because the vertical stroke is used for the letter iota. Given that punctuation started to be used systematically and in a very different way in later inscriptions, the lack or occasional use of punctuation in early inscriptions probably indicates a reading culture in nascendi. Another important issue regarding early reading culture is the reading voice of the object. The noteworthy characteristic of the “speaking object” in the early period of alphabetic writing is that it refers to itself using the first person. Jesper Svenbro analyses the formula of the speaking object describing it as “egocentric”, because “ego” is central in the text.33 Inscriptions from Methone either preserve the verb eimi with a possessive genitive (Methone Pierias I, 337–43, no. 1–2, and 350, no. 7) or only the genitive of a name (Methone Pierias I, 345–7, no. 4, and probably 343–4, no. 3 and 347–9, no. 5). These inscriptions are incised on pots with different provenance by different hands and probably in the local alphabet of the inscriber. Thus, this formula of possession or dedication existed as a hyper-local characteristic from the 8th century BCE on and was in use during the archaic period. The object declares its owner and not the owner his object, and it becomes the subject of the sentence and of the speech act. Given that the text will be probably read aloud, the voice of the reader becomes the voice of the object. Svenbro discusses an animistic view of this practice as a typical characteristic of primitive civilizations, which attribute soul to objects, but proposes also a linguistic interpretation explaining these “egocentric” inscriptions as the most “economical” way of drawing attention to the presence of the object as long as the inscription can be read. Interestingly, he compares the third person of the writer, who wrote or created something, with the first person of the object, which is present and will be present, even when the writer will not be there. In this way the object and the text acquire an autonomous existence. However, Svenbro examines funerary or votive inscriptions usually inscribed on statues or their bases. The inscribed pots with the first person formula do not have an expected long life as they are renewable objects. They are not intended

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32 Tsantsanoglou 2007, 1328 points out that in the text of the Pithekoussai cup dots (:) coincide both with the chief metrical sections and the boundaries of syntactical entities. 33 Svenbro 1993, 29–43.

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to stand somewhere forever like a marble statue or a stone base, and they do not always carry a message of comparable importance. Since the first person formula is used in a variety of objects, from a simple drinking cup to a funerary or votive statue, with very different purposes and duration, the interpretation of the formula must derive from the act and perception of writing itself in the ancient society of early alphabetic writing. The inscriptions of 8th and 7th century BCE are probably the first or some of the earliest examples of alphabetic writing and their common characteristic is the emergence of the individual, who dedicates, possesses, composes, and generally exists through writing. Names of individuals are inscribed on the pots from Methone: Hakesandros owns the cup and probably writes down or composes the metrical inscription; Antekydes and Philion declare their possession. The crucial point is that in this early period reading is an integral part of writing, and writing cannot exist without reading. Since the reader could be a third person and not necessarily the owner of the object or the inscriber, the inscription must have a meaning that, whoever the reader may be, everyone can understand it. The only way to read these texts and ascribe to them the same meaning every time is to give voice to the object through the reader. If the object is speaking, there are no misunderstandings; because whoever reads the inscription cannot change its meaning “I (the pot, the statue, the weapon etc.) belong to X.” The hypothetical inscription “I, Philion, own this cup” presupposes that the text will be read by Philion. On the contrary, the inscription “I belong to Philion” always has the same meaning regardless of the reader. Therefore, writing is integrally connected with the act of reading and, as Svenbro points out, the reader is “the instrument necessary for the text to be realized.”34 Thus, the inscribed object is personified, has a voice, and acquires an existence within the literacy act. But is it in fact central in the literacy event? First, the object remains closely connected with its owner during the literacy act, despite its speaking ability and its autonomous meaning beyond the particular literacy event; it is self-defined as a possession of an individual. Second, the semiotics of the position of the name in the sentence, placed at the beginning of the text, is noteworthy. The object, though the speaking subject of the sentence, comes after the name and it is often implied by the verb in first person. Additionally, what exactly the object is (a statue, a kylix, a weapon) is not always defined and vision is required to understand what exactly the ego of the text means. Though the inscribed object is speaking, the name of the owner predominates in the text.

_____ 34 Svenbro 1993, 46.

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Reading aspects as described above broaden our understanding of the reading culture in the period of early alphabetic writing in qualitative terms and perhaps answer some questions about the reader and his identity, the difficulties of the reading act, and the role of the speaking object within the reading procedure.

Text As “the study of literacy is partly a study of texts and how they are produced and used,“35 the question “what is a text”36 in the period of early literacy is crucial. Is the text central to every literacy event? Does the text have an autonomous meaning out of its context? Could someone participate in a literacy event without reading or writing? Is the text an aesthetically attractive writing pattern among others?37 Texts in this early period include incised or painted inscriptions and trademarks or potters’ marks of a notable variety.38 Both single letters, which may be abbreviated words and texts from one to more lines, are considered ‘text’, because they have a role to a literacy event and a social activity. Also symbols or other scratches should be considered as ‘text’ in a broader sense, since they have a particular meaning and they address an audience in the context of a communication procedure. Literacy as a combination of semiotic systems could also include non-text based images. Numerical systems or other systems of symbols, existing before and after the adoption of alphabetic script, deepen the understanding of the distribution and circulation of writing systems and of the connection between social communal needs and writing. Numerical systems are of course beyond the scope of this paper, but they should be incorporated in discussions about literacy, as it is a structured system of visual marks that produce meaning as the alphabet does.39 Other symbols, trademarks, or potters’ marks were broadly used before alphabetic writing. Early Iron Age potters’

_____ 35 Barton/Hamilton 1998, 8. 36 Collins/Blot 2003, 5. 37 Osborne/Pappas 2007, 138. See also Pappas in this volume. 38 In Methone Pierias I, 309 and nn. 8–10, Tzifopoulos adopts the term ‘inscription’ for the inscribed texts on nine pots (Methone Pierias I, 337–51 and 369–70, nos. 1–8 and 22) and discusses the definition of the term ‘graffiti’ with relevant bibliography. According to Chaniotis 2011, 193–196, the term ‘graffiti’ refers to unofficial images or texts on objects, whose primary function was not to serve as writing medium. 39 Chrisomalis 2009b, 62–63 and 71 investigates the connection between numerical notations and writing systems.

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marks served a variety of purposes in the production and distribution of pots.40 Similarly, symbols and incisions on the finds from Methone, such as simple lines, crosses, and stars are indications of a whole system of signs used for a long period, which probably represents a common ‘language’ of signs, albeit difficult for us to decipher. From a narrow point of view these signs are not within the scope of literacy, but from a broader semiotic perspective every sign system constitutes a language. Although the choice of viewing these signs remains subjective, one should keep discussing them in literacy contexts. It is, therefore, essential to examine if these marks are addressed to a particular group of people, or if they just serve the needs of their producer. Some of these symbols and alphabetic signs have a meaning beyond the time of their production, which could be interpreted by others. Writing systems even in modern times incorporate symbols or non-text based images, which produce meaning. Modern emoticons broadly used in electronic messages have certain meanings denoting the mood, feeling, or thoughts of the user, understandable only to a specific group of people, who created a system of symbols to serve particular needs of communication. Mutatis mutandis, a system of symbols in ancient society, which was familiar with iconographic depictions of earlier scripts, could have been addressed to a community of potters or traders and thus could not be thought of as individual isolated and meaningless signs. Additionally, a nontext based image, as the scratched bird on a kotyle (Methone Pierias I, 386, no. 35), is also a kind of text, as the inscriber wanted to express a feeling or a thought and interact with the painter of the vase and the participants of the literacy event. This image needs a social activity and of course an audience, which could perceive and decode the ironical or other connotations. Inscriptions or marks on pots are the visible evidence of literacy first at the time of its production and second at the time of its consumption, perception and interpretation. Literacy at the moment of its production involves the inscriber/ inscribers (in the case of more than one inscription on the same pot), who incised the particular text in order to produce a meaning in a specific context. Potters and traders want to mark a set of products of their workshop or merchandise respectively, owners declare their property, and symposiasts compose or reproduce a metrical text. All these acts are variants of early literacy events, some of them situated in place and time with an ephemeral and site-specific meaning. Some of these inscriptions are probably useful only to their inscriber – informal rough scratches, in order to manage a set of products – and they – have no meaning after the very moment of their incision. But other marks and

_____ 40 Papadopoulos 1994, 473–481 and 492–493.

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texts are inscribed for specific reasons external to the context of their creation. The pre-fired letter N as a potter’s mark (Methone Pierias I, 362–4, no. 17) is a prominent sign, made so as to be seen easily during the circulation of this amphora. Although at present this single letter seems meaningless, this by no means implies that it was so in the past. Writing has a peripheral and supplemental role in production of ceramic wares or trade activity. This activity could be achieved even without writing, but writing facilitates the ongoing procedure. On the other hand, writing seems to be central or at least very important in other activities. The owner’s or dedicator’s name and Hakesandros’ metrical text are in close relation with the activity, in which the pot was going to be used. Once the pot is inscribed, is not another pot, but becomes Philion’s pot.41 The dedicator or the owner places his name on his own pot indicating in this way that this object belongs to him. Of course this action is addressed to other people and has no meaning as an isolated practice. The owner declares his ownership in a visible manner and perhaps simultaneously shows his writing skill to the audience. Hakesandros’ metrical text accomplishes more complicated purposes. The inscriber appears as a literate person, he shows his (or the inscriber’s) ability both to write very well and to compose or at least reproduce a metrical verse. The owner’s formula in combination with epigrams is a common sympotic practice, and thus this metrical inscription is in this case central to the relevant sympotic activity. Prima facie these inscriptions have a limited use; they have meaning as long as the activity lasts and of course for the period that the pot is in use. Some scratches on potsherds or even pots have an ephemeral character; they were not created to last through time, but probably to serve a particular need or as an impulsive expression of an individual. However, sometimes these inscriptions could have a longer life, either because their carriers were used for a long period (e.g. pithoi or amphorae) or had particular value, as a prize or a reminder of the participation in an athletic event or a symposion. In this case the inscribed text is read again and again by different people, in different places and times and each time its meaning depends on the readers, ancient or modern. Henceforth, the inscribed text becomes diachronically part of the narration of different people. The question whether or not there really was a line separating literate and illiterate people in ancient societies depends in fact on the particular ancient society and the type of literacy.42 In societies with bureaucratic scribal literacy the division between official scribes and illiterate masses is obvious. On the

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41 In Methone Pierias I, 309, Tzifopoulos points out that the inscription changes the initial use and the contextual implications of the pot. 42 Harris 1989, 3.

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other hand, in ancient Greek societies of alphabetic script, these boundaries are not so clear. People of different social status, profession, age, and gender were participating in a literacy event, even though only a part of them could read the inscribed texts and probably less could write one. In the early period of alphabetic writing, a literacy act as an interactive procedure is addressed both to a literate and illiterate audience. Since the writing and reading skill was not widespread, the literacy event incorporated both literate and illiterate people more easily than modern literate society does. The illiterates were not excluded from the literacy event; they were part of the literacy act through their senses; they could see the text and hear someone reading it. They probably admired the talent of the inscriber and the aesthetic form of the inscription, as they admired the decorative patterns of the pot. Thus, Osborne and Pappas rightly emphasize that writing is an aesthetically attractive pattern. Of course, all early inscriptions on pots are not highly aesthetic or perfectly embedded in the decorative pattern of the pot, but there are some illustrative paradigms to support the theory of an aesthetic role of alphabetic inscriptions on pots. The inscriber chooses a specific place for the inscription on the surface of the pot, not only for the obvious reason of being easy to see, but also for it to be part of the geometrical decorative pattern of the pot (Hakesandros’ inscription follows the geometrical zone above it; Philion’s and Antekydes’ are placed beside or between the handles). Additionally, not only the placement, but also the inscription itself is often aesthetically incised: the symmetry, the careful incision, and the professionally cut letters indicate an aesthetic perception of writing. Thus, script is perceived as an image and as a meaning both by literate and illiterate people. Furthermore, incorporation of the illiterate in the literacy act implies that script has an influence in a society and presupposes that the particular society is familiar with script, ascribing to it power and value. Writing in this early period of literacy has an almost magic influence upon people, not only as meaningful text, but as an image and literacy act as well. Consequently, illiterate or semi-literate people could participate in a literacy event, not only as part of the social activity but also as part of the literacy act. They interact with the inscriber and the text in various ways. They see the incision, admire its aesthetic result, ascribe value to writing itself, interpret the meaning of the text, and have the role of an audience; in fact, they constitute part of the literacy event.

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Local literacies Finally, attention must be drawn to the local character of literacy; for literacy consists of many local literacies both geographically and socially situated. Emma Blake,43 in her presentation of innovative approaches to space in social sciences, suggests that space and portable artifacts are important for understanding social groupings and identities. A brief discussion of early inscriptions on pots in spatial terms is essential, given the multiplicity and multi-locality of early literacy. Literacy has many spatial facets regarding not only the specifically located literacy act, but also the interconnections between literacies of different social groups or local communities. Thus, spatial information regarding the inscriber, the reader, the alphabet, the place of production, the process of inscription, and consumption locate a literacy act geographically and socially. Studies of typology and fabric and new technologies of clay analysis often establish the provenance of pots, but cannot answer questions concerning the origin of the inscriber or the alphabet of an inscription. The post-firing incisions cannot be easily attributed to an inscriber of specific origin. The inscriber could have the same origin as the inscribed object, but of course could be any one who bought and/or used this pot. A Lesbian amphora (Methone Pierias I, 345–7, no. 4) and a Lesbian drinking vessel (Methone Pierias I, 337–9, no. 1) found at Methone are inscribed in two different alphabets (as the letter shape for sigma attests) by inscribers of unknown origin. The literacy event most probably took place at Methone, but the pots have been transported from different areas of the Greek world and their inscriber and alphabets remain of unknown origin. Thus, pots as portable objects incorporate different localities in relation to the origin of the pot, the inscriber, the alphabet, and finally the place of consumption. Therefore, literacy amalgamates local and hyper-local features; local practices ascribed to the place of production or consumption, and hyper-local, common practices among different areas of the Greek world. Consequently, literacy is a complex phenomenon, which gets its meaning within the ethnic or community boundaries as well as outside of them. The inscriptions of Methone corroborate the existence of common literacy practices or epigraphic habits within the Greek world, revealing hyper-local characteristics of early uses of alphabetic script: sympotic activity, metrical inscriptions, common formulas of

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43 Blake 2007, 233–235 discusses the “spatial turn” of archaeology and the importance of spatial theoretical approaches. She also defines the cross-disciplinary terms “place” as the spot in which something is located encompassing all social and physical surroundings and “locale” as the setting for social action, essential to specify contextuality.

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the “speaking object” or “the thief’s punishment”, inscribed names on pots, trademarks and potters’ marks, common features of local alphabets (letter shape, direction of writing). On the other hand, the local character of early literacy is attested in different local alphabets, which probably later will be connected with ethnic boundaries and the identity of the Greek polis.44 Although there is an ongoing debate regarding the creation of archaic local alphabets, the ones found at Methone confirm the existence of local scripts from the late 8th century BCE. The major problem with the archaic local alphabets is that they are not yet thoroughly studied and thus it is not possible to discern the evolution of local scripts beyond their general archaic characteristics. Therefore, the so-called “archaic alphabet” is regarded as a unified alphabet from the late 8th to the 5th or even (in the case of Crete) the 4th century BCE, and alteration is usually explained as a mistake and isolated deviation from the ‘main’ form,45 a fact which implies that the same alphabet with random differentiations in letter shapes could be in use in the same area for three or four centuries. This point of view leads to the theory of the fluidity of early alphabets as if there were a deposit of letters, whence one could pick letter shapes and use them haphazardly. But writing, though it encompasses personal techniques and innovations, is not a personal invention. From the moment that the alphabet was widely employed within society, its characteristics must have been commonly acceptable and recognizable. Script as a semiotic mode, a system of communicating signs with a specific role within society, conforms to rules socially and culturally structured in order to produce meaning.46 Conventions about writing, such as direction of script, letter shape, punctuation, etc. are a prerequisite to the function of writing as communicative medium. Literate people must be able to easily read a written message and be familiar with their local conventions of writing. Yet, possibly a literate person (perhaps a professional scribe or a craftsman), if need be, was in a position to understand, read and write another Greek alphabet, but as a rule of thumb it seems more probable that he employed his own local alphabet which he knew best. Apparently, the ancient Greeks were conscious of their local characteristics, and accordingly their dialect or other differentiations – and local alphabets cannot be excluded from this rule. The inscriptions of Methone, dated to late 8th–early 7th century BCE, are written in different alphabets probably deriving from different Greek areas, as

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44 Luraghi 2010, 69 and 86–88. 45 Jeffery 1990, 14–15. Luraghi 2010, 73–76 questions the idea that the emergence of the local alphabets is the product of accident. 46 Kress/van Leeuwen 2006, 2.

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they preserve different shapes for the same letter (cf. sigma: Methone Pierias I, 337–9 and 345–7, nos. 1 and 4; delta: Methone Pierias I, 339–43 and 345–7, nos. 2 and 4). Yet, no pre-firing inscriptions on local vessels (except the pre-fired N) or any public inscriptions on stone have been found to allow assumptions about the local script of Methone. Thus, the local alphabet of Methone turns into an intriguing issue. As a colony of Euboea, Methone was perhaps using the alphabet of its metropolis, but this hypothesis cannot be based on the particular finds even if some of them are written in Euboean alphabet. Locality however is not connected only with local alphabets, but also with other epigraphic practices, which make up an alphabetic network. If literacy is an activity embedded in a social and economic context, Methone provides evidence for the early use of writing, both in sympotic and in commercial contexts. Owner’s inscriptions, metrical inscription, inscribed transport amphorae, alphabetic, and non-alphabetic signs enlighten our knowledge about this very early period of Greek alphabetic literacy. Also, these literacy practices presuppose an audience familiar with writing, able to read and probably to write at least some letters or words and short texts. Although we focus on inscriptions which consist of no more than one word, the majority of the graffiti are single alphabetic or non-alphabetic signs, which are very important for our knowledge about early literacy. They are placed usually in a specific part of the vessel (handle, shoulder, lips) and constitute a common and continuous epigraphic practice all over the Greek world. Accordingly, the constantly moving community of traders uses similar signs as a common commercial language and carries via trading routes not only products but alphabets and literacy practices as well.47 Furthermore, locality is not understood only in spatial but also in social terms. Literacy addresses a community of people with common characteristics, or a social group, within their own geographic boundaries or outside of them. Thus, sympotic activities involve particular social groups of aristocrats (?), whereas trading or religious activities integrate people of different geographic origins and social or economic status. Especially, in-between places like ports or sanctuaries, which are located in a specific geographic point with local characteristics, incorporate simultaneously hyper-local aspects of literacy as well, and thus locality acquires a broader meaning. Pots, alphabets, literacy practices, names, gods, symbols are found together in places like Methone and participants are expected to understand them. In these crossroads of literacy groups of people share common activities and use literacy for the same purposes. Pre-

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47 Wilson 1997–1998, 53, suggests the existence of a sophisticated commercial world in the archaic period presenting traders as organized businessmen and not as illiterate sellers.

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sumably, they could recognize one another’s symbols, commercial language, and literacy habits. Subsequently, Methone, and particularly the very small area of the “Ypogeio”, confirms the variety and multi-locality of ancient literacy: the literate and sophisticated inscriber of the metrical inscription of Hakesandros, the very careful elegant and aesthetic inscription of Philion, the careless graffiti of names or letters, the trademarks or potters’ marks. This literacy is local, as the pots were used at Methone, a fact which thus signifies a local epigraphic practice, even if the alphabets are not local. But more importantly, this literacy is hyper-local as well, because of the different origin of pots, alphabets, inscribers, and probably transported epigraphic habits. In this way, Methone could be described as one of the in-between places of trading routes, which offer a fascinating aspect of early Greek literacies in the making.

In the making A temporal analysis of a literacy event in reference to the early date of the inscriptions from Methone is essential. The analytic presentation of the debate concerning the adoption of the alphabetic script is not my aim, but, nonetheless, a brief mention in relation with the new finds is necessary. It is generally accepted that the Dipylon oinochoe and Nestor’s cup are the first attempts at alphabetic writing in the Greek world. However, the new inscriptions dated to the same period, if not Philion’s pot perhaps slightly earlier, but from an unexpected area of the Greek world, put the issue on the table again. Are these inscriptions the very first attempts at writing? Are we in front of an alphabetic literacy in the making? All evidence suggests quite the opposite. The rapid expansion of the alphabetic script all over the Greek world in the 8th and 7th centuries BCE, vividly described by Nino Luraghi as an “alphabetic big bang,”48 gives the impression of a literacy revolution, as if suddenly everyone wanted to communicate through writing. In theoretical terms writing is a crucial change in modes of communication, and alphabetic writing is a step away from iconographic script. Alphabetic writing, despite its simplicity, is a new technology and requires time for incorporating instruments, training methods, personal skills, and perceptions of script in a functional system.49 First, the different level of literacy implies a widespread use of the alphabetic script. If literacy was the privilege of a closed social group of aristocrats or a professional group of scribes,

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48 Luraghi 2010, 72. 49 Goody 2000, 133–138 analyses writing as “the technology of the intellect”.

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a more uniform picture of script should be expected. For experts, either aristocrats or scribes, would use a more professional and homogeneous way of writing. Instead, informal rough scratches together with carefully incised metrical inscriptions show a variety of inscribers with different literacy experience. Consequently, this diversity affirms the diffusion of literacy within society. Second, literate people can be identified with different social groups and different places as well. In fact, there is no one ‘literacy’ but local ‘literacies’ in interaction. The local character of early literacy already from the 8th century BCE presupposes the distribution of the alphabet and epigraphic practices. Early inscriptions from Pithekoussai, Attica, the Aegean islands and Methone cannot be interpreted as isolated displays of literacy, but as part of an alphabetic network.50 A large percentage of early inscriptions form an integral part of commercial networks, as literacy travels within the Mediterranean using the ancient trade routes. Additionally, the extended use of writing in a variety of aspects of social and economic life, the sufficient number of inscribers, the variety of local alphabets, and the presupposition of readers to whom these inscriptions are addressed point towards an earlier adoption of alphabetic script. The inscriptions of the 8th century BCE as part of literacy events in different places and social contexts are representatives of common literacy practices, and Methone reinforces the theories which support an earlier adoption of the alphabetic script (Janko in this volume).

Literacy event and epigraphic practice An ancient literacy event is a process which involves the inscribed object, the text, the inscriber, the possible reader or readers and it is situated in a particular time and place. Although we are able to reconstruct the literacy event to a certain degree, the literacy event does not necessarily establish an extended epigraphic practice. In the early period of alphabetic literacy it is not apparent if we are dealing with isolated and strictly located literacy acts or with established local and/or hyper-local epigraphic practices. Since it is not possible to have a systematic epigraphic picture of the Greek world, other criteria should be taken into account in order to define epigraphic habits.51 A repeated literacy event in

_____ 50 Johnston 1983, 64–66 discusses the wide geographical range of Greek inscriptions of the 8th and early 7th century BCE. 51 Chaniotis 2004, 75–76 defines as epigraphic habit ‘‘the position occupied by inscriptions in the public and private life of a particular period and area’’ and suggests a qualitative analysis

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different places is an indication if not for an established, at least for a developing, epigraphic habit. Early metrical sympotic inscriptions, such as the ones on Nestor’s cup, Dipylon oinochoe, and Hakesandros’ skyphos, found in different areas, Pithekoussai in Italy, Dipylon in Attica, and unexpectedly Methone in Macedonia, cannot be interpreted as isolated displays of literacy. The sympotic context, part of which these inscriptions were, presupposes an audience familiar with this particular social literacy event. The literacy process is dynamic and changing and, even though the complete image of ancient epigraphic practices cannot be reconstituted, literacy events located in place and time are indicative of emerging epigraphic habits.

Conclusions This interpretation of ancient literacy in an interdisciplinary way based on modern literacy theories attempts a qualitative approach of literacy, instead of a statistical analysis concerning the percentage of literate people in antiquity. From a broader perspective the phenomenon of writing and reading in ancient societies constitutes in fact a social literacy practice comprised of literacy events embedded in sociocultural contexts. The theoretical framework of modern literacy and sociolinguistic studies provides a way of understanding ancient literacy as a set of social literacy events situated both in place and time. The study of specifically located literacy events also reveals the literacy practices and possibly epigraphic habits in broader geographical and social settings. Since pots are portable inscribed objects, they are not only the medium and the carrier of the inscribed text, but they also produce meaning and emphasize the connotations of the text. Pots as tangible objects turn literacy into a ‘sensible’ experience incorporating into the literacy event both a literate and illiterate audience. The appearance of personal names on pots from Methone underlines the fact that this was a common hyper-local characteristic of early alphabetic literacy and an effort to establish and demonstrate self-identity. Since the establishment of self-identity takes place within a literacy act, it could also be interpreted as an attempt by the inscriber to demonstrate his writing and reading skills, and thus present himself as literate in a community that perceives literacy as a value. But reading and writing, usually described as skills of a literate person, acquire a different meaning in early alphabetic literacy; they are part of a social literacy event and not simply an individual act.

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of some general aspects of inscriptions, such as the character and the language of the documents and their spatial and social distribution over time.

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Early ancient literacy ascribes value to the script itself, but at the same time it allows illiterate or semi-literate people to participate in literacy events through the perception of the inscription both mentally as a text and aesthetically as an image. The examination of early inscriptions in terms of multi-locality illuminates the local character of early literacy and the common hyper-local characteristics of early Greek communities. Local alphabets with distinctive characteristics and hyper-local epigraphic features and habits, such as inscriptions on pots, which comprise names, potters’ marks, and trademarks, attest to an alphabetic network already well established in the 8th and 7th century BCE and reveal ancient Methone as one of the participants in this alphabetic network.

neue Seite

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Alexandra Pappas

Form Follows Function? Toward an Aesthetics of Early Greek Inscriptions at Methone* Alexandra Pappas Form Follows Function? Toward an Aesthetics of Early Greek Inscriptions

Abstract: With a focus on the 7th-century BCE inscribed pots from Methone, this chapter aims to clarify methodological and theoretical approaches to early Greek inscribed objects by keeping the interrelationship between form, function, and content in balanced consideration. It illustrates the complexities inherent in assessing the relationship between the function of an object, the form of its inscription(s), and the content of its inscription(s), and urges careful consideration of each. It is argued that there is overall a symbiosis between the form and content of an inscription and the object’s function and use – whether for drinking vessels or for transport or storage vessels – and it is preliminarily suggested that this analysis of early alphabetic inscriptions may apply equally to early non-alphabetic inscriptions.

Introduction This essay offers preliminary observations about the aesthetics at play in the corpus of late 8th- and early 7th-century BCE inscriptions from Methone, and illustrates some of the theoretical and methodological challenges inherent to doing so. Alongside a handful of recent scholars, I have elaborated how the visuality and other material qualities of even the earliest Greek inscriptions were symbolically significant, for example on the so-called Dipylon Oinochoe or Cup of Nestor.1 This approach stands in contrast with the more traditional one that has tended to place the material and symbolic functions of objects such as these at odds with one another. I maintain instead that we gain a fuller understanding of the execution and reception of ancient Greek inscriptions if we consider criti-

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* I am grateful to many: to Yannis Tzifopoulos for the conference invitation and unfailingly warm hospitality in Thessaloniki; to the entire conference organizing committee for hosting a most collegial and productive meeting; to the conference participants for their thoughtful and stimulating responses to my talk; and to Leopoldo Iribarren for conversations that helped this work evolve into its present form. 1 Works exemplifying the approach include Lissarrague 1985, 1992; Hurwit 1990; Henderson 1994; Pappas 2004; Osborne/Pappas 2007; Pappas 2008; Squire 2009; Pappas 2011; Pappas 2012.

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cally how the appearance of writing—whether on pots, statues, buildings, or the page—could be of communicative value alongside or even beyond its semantics. Such a perspective informs the present study, which aims to assess whether such aesthetic elements play a similar communicative role among the early inscriptions from Methone.2 In particular, I want to pose four main questions of the corpus: 1. Is there any correlation between the content of an alphabetic inscription—its semantic meaning—and the inscription’s form—whether its general location on the object or the specific shape of its letters and words, its eidography;3 2. Is there any correlation between the content or form of an alphabetic inscription and any abstract decoration on the vessel; 3. Is there any correlation between the content or form of an alphabetic inscription and the shape of the vessel on which it appears, that is, the vessel’s function;4 4. And, finally, how do these observations play out among at least some of Methone’s non-alphabetic inscriptions? This last question invites a critical reckoning of the essential medial relationship between content and form, which I want to keep in dialogue with the role of function. The majority of scholarship on inscribed pots—whether epigraphical or art historical, or somewhere in between these ostensibly polar disciplines—would not be likely to pose these sorts of questions of the Methone material, nor institute the terms in which they have been posed. An increasing minority, however,

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2 While this aesthetic approach dominates my analysis here, I do not mean to advocate my methodology to the exclusion of others, nor do I want to suggest that my questions are the preferred or only ones to ask of the Methone corpus. Rather, if I seem to overemphasize the validity of my methods here, it is only because they still remain largely underrepresented in the scholarly literature, and I am eager to redress the balance. 3 Pappas 2004, 47–48 introduces the term to describe letters, words, and whole phrases that function “both lexigraphically and sematographically” and “do so because of the particular shape in which they are written, their eidography.” 4 An object’s function can be difficult to assess, even when it is to some extent tied formally to shape. For example, while some amphorae held wine and might thus be viewed as functionally connected to a context of gathered drinkers, other amphorae will have carried other goods and so will have served a range of other purposes, whether individual, social, commercial, or other. To state the obvious, there is not an easy one-to-one correlation of shape to function. Csapo et al. 2000 exemplify a common scholarly approach, one that at once acknowledges the difficulty and tries still to assemble an interpretive frame and some vocabulary for it: there, essentially all cups are deemed “personal,” while amphorae and associated large shapes are generally labeled “professional” and “commercial.” The authors are not to be faulted for such generalities and discuss openly their decision to use them. But in this essay I wish to see whether a more detailed framework with slightly different terms and questions might prove useful. As I proceed, I shall try to observe when there are multiple possibilities for understanding an object’s function.

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some of whom I cited above (n. 2), are asking such aesthetically-informed questions. My study aligns generally with the work of such scholars as these, who understand an inscribed object’s function as fundamental to analyzing the writing on it. For example, in their study of the inscribed Iron Age pottery from Kommos, Crete, Eric Csapo et al. note that cups overwhelmingly preserve multiple alphabetic marks—mostly owner’s inscriptions—while the other main shape, amphorae, tend to have solitary letters or non-alphabetic inscriptions on them.5 In response to this distribution, which is much like what we observe at Methone, the authors wonder whether the correlative differences between type of inscription and vessel shape “may coincide with differences in the function served by the inscriptions of either group” (emphasis mine). That is, they posit an implicit relationship between inscriptional content and an object’s function, a function indicated by shape. In general, the terms, definitions, and questions I posed above do not deviate in any fundamental way from the methods of those who consider Greek inscriptions in the way I wish to here. Some details of my analytical framework, however, do diverge from even the latest approaches. While recent works (including my own) have put inscriptional content into conversation with the elements of form and/or function, they have tended to do so implicitly, unevenly, and in largely binary terms. By way of departure, here I wish to make explicit all three essential terms of that dialogue, keeping inscriptional form in play as an active interlocutor on par with content and function.6 To my knowledge, no scholar has yet formally distinguished these elements relative to one another, but I believe doing so is necessary if we aim to perceive as acutely as possible their dialogic exchange. Admittedly, to frame my approach in such terms as “content,” “form,” and “function” is to construct and apply an artificial scheme: in the experiential reality of these inscribed objects, content, form, and function integrate fully, each informing the other in a continuous, seamless cycle. Indeed, my ultimate goal is to present a model for precisely such an integrated reading of these objects. We cannot begin to gain critical purchase on this matrix of overlapping communicative modes, however, until we tease apart their discrete elements, if only in the end to reunite them yet more fully. With

_____ 5 Csapo et al. 2000, 102. The overall focus of their work, however, is not on the aesthetics of the inscriptions, even if there are isolated acknowledgments of the phenomena along the way. 6 To do so is to some extent to resist the conclusions of Methone Pierias I, 325 that, “there is generally no organic relationship between the incised and other visual elements on one side of a pot and the decoration on the other,” although Methone Pierias I, nos. 2 and 35 are highlighted as exceptions. This essay aims to demonstrate that these two objects are not so exceptional, and that such traditional views are worth revising.

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the caveat that the following represents only preliminary thoughts, I offer a working corpus of inscriptions from Methone, alphabetic and non-alphabetic alike, which shows “aesthetic” elements at play.

Toward an Aesthetics… In my view, Methone Pierias I, nos. 1, 2, 3, and 7 exemplify objects in which content, form, and function seem to be critically interconnected (figs. 1–4). Each of these alphabetic graffiti (likely) features a masculine name in the possessive genitive followed by eimi, which we understand as an owner’s inscription. What are we to make of the relationship of this kind of content to inscriptional form and the object’s function? We note that despite differences in location of manufacture or alphabetic script, each of these probable owner’s inscriptions is located prominently just below the cup’s lip and within the handle zone.7 Pappas_01

Fig. 1: Methone Pierias I, no. 1; Drinking cup, Lesbos, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: Φιλίονος ἐμί ←. Pappas_02

Fig. 2: Methone Pierias I, no. 2; Skyphos, Euboea, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: hΑκεσά νδρο ἐμ[ὶ ←.

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7 Methone Pierias I, 554 allows for the phenomenon broadly: “Graffiti mostly occur on prominent parts of the vase…”

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Pappas_03

Fig. 3: Methone Pierias I, no. 3; Skyphos, Thermaic Gulf, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: Ἐπιγέ [νεος? ἐμί?] ←.

Pappas_04

Fig. 4: Methone Pierias I, no. 7; Skyphos, Euboea, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: [- ? ]ο ἐμ[ί?] ←.

So too, the letters themselves resemble linear geometric shapes and so accord with the extant painted decoration where it is visible, e.g. in Methone Pierias I, nos. 2 and 7 (figs. 2, 4), even if the extremely fragmentary state of no. 7 makes it a rather tenuous case. Rather than mar or otherwise violate the vessel’s preinscribed decorative schema where there is one, these etched marks harmonize with it, respecting the preexisting visual context into which they are integrated. This may become more significant when we recall the shared function these objects served as indicated by their shapes, that is, drinking. The visibility of the inscriptions takes on a richer, contextualized meaning if we imagine them in motion, tipped up for drinking or passed from one drinker to another, thus putting the writing on prominent display. Some support for the interconnectedness of writtenness and mobility may come from the observation in Methone Pierias I

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that “most of the inscriptions, graffiti, and (trade)marks occur on transport amphorae and drinking vessels, very few on pouring and storage vessels, whereas there are none on cooking wares.”8 We may find an additional charge in the performative act of putting etched marks on dynamic display if we return to the content of Methone Pierias I, nos. 1 and 2 (figs. 1, 2), which seems to engage the kinds of witty and erotic games that we associate more readily with the later archaic and classical Greek symposion.9 For example, we could find significant the decision to record the name Philiōn (fig. 1), with its connotations of “friendship,” “love,” and “affection.” Philiōn is also the comparative degree of the adjective philos, and is used of Odysseus as early as Homer’s Odyssey (e.g. Od. 19.351, 24.268). Leaving aside the possible heroic reference at present, I note that the connotation of the comparative, of being by definition “more X than someone,” also recalls the competitive spirit of what we know of (admittedly later) symposia. If this object declares itself as belonging to “Mr. Affection,” its inscriber may have wished to go one step further by introducing a verbal and potentially erotic game, inducing its reader to proclaim: “I belong to the man more affectionate/beloved/dear than….” We can imagine how such a proclamation might invite responses from one’s fellowdrinkers. And if the symbiosis between the object’s function and its inscription’s content dynamically activates the object, the form of the writing, too, participates, its prominent physical display on the cup playing up the verbal-visual conceit all the more.10 We might apply like analysis to the Euboean skyphos (fig. 2), for which there also appears to be a significant relationship between the content and physical form of its inscriptions and the function of the object. The end of this retrograde inscription as we have it preserved was actually written first, namely, the prose owner’s identification at our far left. We confirm that it was written first since the iambic line to its right runs just beneath the proper name in its conclusion. While this may seem a minor point, it is nevertheless worth reviewing explicitly: someone clearly thought about how to arrange the writing on this drinking cup, and at least attempted to map out ahead of the moment of inscription the space it would take; despite his best intentions, he missed the spatial

_____ 8 Methone Pierias I, 554. 9 The reading that follows, which actively includes the oral/aural element introduced by the inscriptions, opposes Boardman 2003, who argues against inscriptions on pots as visual cues for verbal exchange. His minority view has not generated a large scholarly following. 10 Węcowski, this volume, also notes the “aesthetic value” of the Philion inscription, and generally understands the cup on which it appears, and those others like it from Methone, to have circulated at early Greek symposia.

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mark by about five letters. If the physical relationship between these poetic and prose lines, that is, their form, was intentional and preconceived, I would like to speculate that the same can be said for the relationship between the contents of each line. Although the iambic line is incomplete, it seems reasonably clear that it once communicated a preemptive curse, along the model of the inscriptions on the Tataie aryballos or the Cup of Nestor.11 As the Methone volume records, two preliminary reconstructions of the line ultimately render an exchange meaning, “I belong to Hakesandros; whoever steals me will be deprived of his eyesight.”12 Thus, I propose that—just as we have seen of the cohesive visual relationship between the two parts of the inscription’s form—the content of the prose signature and the iambic curse also harmonize with one another: an implied joke seems to hinge on the relationship between the threat of harm to any potential kleptomaniac and the meaning of the cup’s owner’s name, which likely comes from akeomai and therefore means something like “healer of men.” If the act of thievery results in blindness, the very man who has been stolen from, Hakesandros, is ironically the one with the power to correct the ailment; alternatively, perhaps the owner is the “healer” precisely because he warns ahead of time what may occur should the object be taken, and therefore preemptively cures punitive suffering. Once again, the very function of the object as a drinking cup makes it tempting to envision such a playful, witty exchange at work in a setting resembling the later Greek symposion, where scholars have elaborated many such verbal-visual games. Perhaps the accidentally multiple lines are a graphic record that betrays a verbal two-line exchange reminiscent of later skolia: first, a common and prose claim of ownership, “I belong to Hakesandros,” which was then capped by a clever iambic response.13 As with the Philiōn cup, here, too, content, form, and function have come into an intentional and significant aesthetic alignment. We could additionally bolster such a conclusion by observing how the horizontal line of the inscription when complete would have aligned with the hori-

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11 Węcowski, this volume, discusses both the Tataie aryballos and the Cup of Nestor in more detail. 12 As we have it now, the cup preserves: hΑκεσά νδρο̄ ἐμ[ὶ ………. c. 22 ……….]ειτετο[.. c. 6 ..]μεκ [.. c. 6 ..]ατον στερ- ← / σ[ετ]αι ←. Kyriakos Tsantsanoglou proposes one reconstruction: hΑκεσά νδρο̄ ἐμ[ὶ ………. c. 22 ……….]ει τε̄το̄́ [μενό ν?] με κ[λέ πτε̄ς, ὀμ(μ)]ά το̄ν στερε̄́ |σ[ετ]α̣ι; and Angelos Matthaiou another: hΑκεσά νδρο̄ ε̄̓ μ[ὶ – – με̄δε̄̀ ς – – (ἀν)κλ]ετ̣ τέ το. [hὸς δ’ ἄν] με κ[λέ φσει ὀμ(μ)]ά το̄ν στερε̄́ |σ[ετ]α̣ι (Methone Pierias I, 343). 13 Although the inscriber wished to fit both verbal snippets into a single visual line of script, thus collapsing the dual temporal moments in which each was pronounced and heard, by failing to do so he may well have unwittingly preserved the two-line exchange.

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zontal handle(s) of the cup, or how the geometric shapes of the letters, their eidography, integrate rather seamlessly with the abstract painted geometric decoration—e.g., the inscribed nu and mu resemble nearly identically the zigzagging pattern in the panel above. And the inscription is again in a prominent field of display, etched closely to the widest part of the cup’s body, and just beneath the lip, itself a highly “interactive zone” of the object in use. Thus if we consider figures 1–4 broadly, we might be inclined to generalize that among the earliest Greek inscriptions owner’s signatures tend to be retrograde; to appear on drinking cups; to be inscribed on or near the lip, or close by in the handle zone; and that, therefore, the visual display of owners’ names was essential to activating the setting to which these cups were integral. But before we paint too tidy a picture of a prescribed aesthetic relationship between the content of inscribed words and their form along with an object’s function, we must look further into the Methone corpus.

Toward a More Complex Aesthetics… Methone Pierias I, nos. 12, 28, and 35 potentially problematize the above scenario (figs. 5–7). Pappas_05

Fig. 5: Methone Pierias I, no. 12; Skyphos, Thermaic Gulf, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: vacat ΑΓ vacat OR vacat ΓΑ vacat.

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Pappas_06

Fig. 6: Methone Pierias I, no. 28 (sides A and B); “Euboean type” skyphos, Thermaic Gulf, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: “cross” on rim, both sides.

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For example, nos. 12 and 28 are both drinking cups and they both have inscribed marks on or near their rims—the “zone” we have just delineated. Thus they seem to support the notion that such physical placement of inscription was intentional, and that it was connected to the context of use and the desire for visibility: here, form and function appear to be connected along a familiar axis. But what of content? This relationship becomes more complex since the two inscribed alphabetic letters on no. 12 seem complete (the editors record vacat on either side of the pair), and so resemble the kinds of alphabetic marks we are more accustomed to seeing on amphorae than on cups14—needless to say, this is not an owner’s inscription in the customary formula we observed above, although it may be an abbreviated one. So too, if the placement of the marks on no. 28 is familiar, their content is not transparent: these are non-alphabetic signs roughly in the shape of crosses, one etched on each side of the skyphos (sides A and B, fig. 6). Nevertheless, their physical location close to the cup’s lip may be significant in the ways outlined above. Despite the fact that we are unable to “read” their message clearly, we can observe that some thought does seem to have gone into their arrangement: the cross on each of the cup’s sides is nearly centered in between the handles and thus also nearly symmetrically responds to the one across from it. What should we make of this apparent aesthetic intentionality, and again in the context of drinking, but now for alphabetic or non-alphabetic marks whose precise semantic meaning eludes us? Additionally, let us consider what the remarkable no. 35, another drinking cup with a graffito mark in roughly the same “zone,” can contribute to the picture. Pappas_07

Fig. 7: Methone Pierias I, no. 35; “Corinthian type” kotyle, Thermaic Gulf, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: head and neck of bird.

_____ 14 As, e.g., Csapo et al. 2000 noted of the Iron Age inscriptions at Kommos.

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Among the bands painted just below the cup’s rim, someone etched the head and long neck of a bird in right-facing profile. What is especially striking here is that the inscriber betrays his literal inspiration from the cup’s extant decoration, namely the six stylized painted birds that also face right and are framed within a panel above. As a ceramic surface for inscription, this kotyle was anything but a tabula rasa; its painted images invited the subsequently etched one, illustrating how the contextual layers an object inherently carries with it—whether in its extant decoration, its functional use, or its social value—could directly impact the form, or function, or content of an inscription. In this particular case, the inscription is non-alphabetic, but I see no reason we should not extend this thesis to alphabetic inscriptions as well. In my view, no early Greek inscriber approached a writing surface as if it were a blank page, uninformed by its visual and cultural modes of communication. If so far we have seen that content, form, and function could interrelate in an aesthetic continuum, we have also seen how some inscribed objects in the Methone corpus render that exchange less straightforward, particularly for the issue of semantic content. Additional objects make theoretical and methodological synthesis more difficult still, now in terms of the relationship between an inscription’s form and its object’s function. Above, I suggested that the eidography of writing on a drinking cup’s lip or in the handle zone might be connected to the performative display of those marks and the discourse they elicited among those drinking together, but I was less certain about the role of abbreviated alphabetic marks or non-alphabetic marks in similar locations and on like vessels. Let us consider now the case of the similar placement of writing with similar content, but on objects of different shapes, and therefore functions, for example, those ostensibly related to storage. The amphora in figure 8 invites such a critical reckoning, with its centered, prominently displayed owner’s signature, familiar from the drinking cups we examined above.

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Pappas_08

Fig. 8: Methone Pierias I, no. 4: Amphora, Lesbos, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: Ἀντεϙύδεος.

Moreover, the name itself may engage in semantic play akin to that of Philiōn and Hakesandros, play familiarly put on visual display by the eidographic form of the inscription. If so, how should we evaluate this differently than if it were on a drinking cup? Or, should we? The name is somewhat curious, consisting of the root noun kudos and the preposition anti. Although the genitive is surely meant to convey ownership here, the preference of the preposition for nouns in the genitive case encourages its close reading and a consideration of the socio-cultural games it may capture verbally. On one hand, Antikudeos could have a somewhat negative connotation along the lines of “in opposition to glory,” or “instead of glory.” But the more positive alternatives are particularly compelling for this study, such as “equal to glory,” “in the place of glory,” “in exchange for glory,” “compared with glory,”—each of which engages competitive social elements—or even “facing glory”—which introduces physical proximity and interaction with the object and whoever may be around it. Thus, the name seems somehow to be playing with the contents of the amphora and/or its context of use and reception, very nearly staging the kinds of verbal and physical social exchanges attested for later symposia. That is, the inscription’s content—made all the more emphatic by its form—brings back into the conversation the object’s function. When all three are taken together, it is again productive to analyze this vessel and its inscription within a sympotic setting, since in this way the amphora’s function comes into neat aesthetic alignment with its inscription’s content and form. Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I allows that some amphorae in the corpus may

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have held wine and should thus be considered sympotika.15 Given the potential significance of the name’s meaning, its prominent display on the amphora, and the possibility that the amphora contained wine, I at least tentatively agree that we should consider this vessel, too, “sympotic”.16 If my analysis has been sound, it seems that an inscription’s form— prominent, centered—and its content—i.e. owner’s signatures—are directly informed by its vessel’s function, which in the case of this amphora and the cups above, would have been fully realized in a sympotic setting. Looking back at curious nos. 12, 28, and 35 (figs. 5–7), then, we might be tempted to suggest by analogy that the scratched marks on these objects should also be understood in the context of drinking, or that they may communicate something about their owners. Let us see how the form of additional inscriptions on comparable amphorae may further fill out—or complicate—our view of the relationship between content and function. As on the amphora examined above (Methone Pierias I, no. 4; fig. 8), with its centered and prominently displayed inscription, each of these amphorae has an equally prominent mark or marks on its neck, oriented with some care—if not exactly symmetrically—between the handles (figs. 9–11). Pappas_09

Fig. 9: Methone Pierias I, no. 15: Amphora, unknown provenance, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: vacat ΝΕ vacat ←.

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15 Methone Pierias I, nos. 5, 6, 9 and 15–21. So too, all owner’s signatures are assigned a sympotic setting, e.g. nos. 1–8 and 22; Methone Pierias I, 309. 16 See Węcowski, this volume, for the aligned but rather more confident view that the owners’ inscriptions and even some of the non-alphabetic marks from Methone are best understood as circulating epidexia, along with the wine, at Late Geometric Greek symposia. He also sees competitive games and tests as integral to the drinking party, and as at least partially driven by the objects’ inscriptions.

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Pappas_010

Fig. 10: Methone Pierias I, no. 18: Samian amphora, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: vacat Ν vacat ←.

Pappas_011

Fig. 11: Methone Pierias I, no. 16: Samian amphora, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: “cross” on neck.

Should we then assume because of their form that these marks, NE, N, and a cross, also say something about their owners, or that they place these amphorae in a sympotic context? It may seem so in correlation with the objects examined so far, and the hypothetical designation of all three of these objects as “sympotic” in Methone Pierias I strengthens the scenario.17 On the other hand, perhaps the inscription’s content trumps its placement, and both are dictated instead by the function of the object on which it appears. There is some evidence

_____ 17 Methone Pierias I, 309.

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to suggest so, for example, another inscription of NE on Methone Pierias I, no. 14 (fig. 12), with its decidedly different form—tucked under the handle—and likely different function, inscribed not on an amphora, but a beaked pitcher. Pappas_012

Fig. 12: Methone Pierias I, no. 14: Conical jug with cutaway neck, Thermaic Gulf, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: vacat ΝΕ vacat.

While its appearance on such an object might suggest even more strongly a shared sympotic context, which would then seem also to apply to Methone Pierias I, no. 18 (fig. 10), we must also keep in mind the numerous N inscriptions elsewhere, for example those documented by Alan Johnston, with at least some seeming to serve a commercial function.18 Moreover, Methone Pierias I, no. 17 further complicates matters (fig. 13): it is another Samian amphora with an inscribed N, although here it appears on the shoulder near one handle, and, likely significant, was inscribed before firing.

_____ 18 Johnston 1979, 99–101; 2006, 82–83.

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Pappas_013

Fig. 13: Methone Pierias I, no. 17: Samian amphora, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: vacat Ν vacat ←.

Since we can link the moment of inscription to the moment of the vessel’s manufacture, the letter is more likely to be connected to the conditions of its creation, its contents—whether of substance or quantity—or its travel—whether of origin or destination. It is thus less inviting to see this pre-fire inscription as connected to a context of drinking, or even referring to its owner. Likewise, it is difficult to interpret the so-called “cross” on these amphorae (Methone Pierias I, no. 15, fig. 11; no. 150, fig. 14; no. 151, fig. 15), which appears throughout the Methone corpus as well as among other contemporary assemblages, including at Eretria and Kommos.19 Pappas_014

Fig. 14: Methone Pierias I, no. 150: Amphora, unknown provenance, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: “cross” on neck.

_____ 19 Kenzelmann Pfyffer et al. 2005; Theurillat 2007; Csapo et al. 2000.

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Pappas_015

Fig. 15: Methone Pierias I, no. 151: Amphora, unknown provenance, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: “cross” on neck.

The image appears on a variety of shapes (see, e.g., fig. 6), which suggests that it was symbolically meaningful in a range of use contexts: is this an abbreviated owner’s signature? If so, the frequency with which it appears seems to render it more generic than specific. Furthermore, our conclusions about the meaning of the cross, especially for its occurrence on amphorae and its spatial arrangement on them, would be relevant for this last etched shape, centered and prominently displayed on its amphora’s neck (Methone Pierias I, no. 149; fig. 16). The precise nature of this relevance, however, continues to elude. Pappas_016

Fig. 16: Methone Pierias I, no. 149: Amphora, unknown provenance, late 8th–early 7th century BCE.

I also want to acknowledge another group of inscribed pots that further complicates clear-cut conclusions, but that is necessary to the study of the aesthetics of these inscribed objects. If we return to drinking cups, thus privileging function

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as an organizing principle, we find that they are inscribed regularly not only in association with the rim, as we have already observed, but also on or just under a handle—these appear to be the two primary “zones” for inscription. Three skyphoi from the Thermaic Gulf have alphabetic inscriptions tucked under a handle (figs. 17–19). Pappas_017

Fig. 17: Methone Pierias I, no. 22: Skyphos, Thermaic Gulf, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: vacat ΣΧΕΝΙ vacat ←.

Pappas_018

Fig. 18: Methone Pierias I, no. 10: Skyphos fragment, Thermaic Gulf, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: vacat FA vacat ←.

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Pappas_019

Fig. 19: Methone Pierias I, no. 11: Skyphos fragment, Thermaic Gulf, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: vacat Ẹ[.?] vacat ←.

Methone Pierias I, no. 22 (fig. 17) has the longest inscription, which is probably an abbreviated form of a name in the genitive with a xen- root.20 The fact that this is probably an owner’s inscription, that is, the inscription’s content, together with the object’s ostensible function, led Tzifopoulos in Methone Pierias I to deem it “sympotic.” If so, how should we assess the form of the inscription, in particular in comparison with the drinking vessels examined above (figs. 1–7)? That is, can we detect any relation between content, function, and form in this case, if we were able to make one for the previous material? Here, the apparent name is tucked under a handle, more or less centered within the frame of that handle, and situated so as to yield a light-on-dark effect. Thus, we may wish to consider similar issues of visibility as we did for the drinking cups analyzed above, which could have been exploited in drinking or in passing. Such a reading could apply to Methone Pierias I, nos. 10 and 11 as well (figs. 18–19), although the matter of whether they are also abbreviated names or rather trademarks remains unresolved.21 If the group of skyphoi above suggests, even tentatively, a fluid relationship between alphabetic content, function, and form, the following three “Euboeantype” skyphoi, also from the Thermaic Gulf, may complicate the hypothesis with their non-alphabetic inscriptions (figs. 20–22).

_____ 20 Methone Pierias I, 306. 21 See Methone Pierias I, ad loc. for discussion and additional bibliography.

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Pappas_020

Fig. 20: Methone Pierias I, no. 26: “Euboean type” skyphos, Thermaic Gulf, late 8th–early 7th century BCE.

Pappas_021

Fig. 21: Methone Pierias I, no. 31: “Euboean type” skyphos, Thermaic Gulf, late 8th–early 7th century BCE.

Pappas_022

Fig. 22: Methone Pierias I, no. 27: “Euboean type” skyphos, Thermaic Gulf, late 8th–early 7th century BCE.

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Each of these has some sort of non-alphabetic mark or marks under its handle, but they do not share the same moment of inscription: the marks on nos. 26 and 31 were painted before firing, while no. 27 was etched after firing. Thus this group is identical to those above (figs. 17–19) in terms of function, and, notably, inscriptional form, but assessing content is more complex since we are unable to “read” the non-alphabetic marks. Despite this, however, and despite the differences in the moment and medium of inscription (before or after firing, in paint or etched), it is worth pausing to note that the place of these nonalphabetic inscriptions on their objects mirrors the place of alphabetic ones, suggesting that inscriptional form may be dictated rather more by function than by content. I move toward concluding by way of five final amphorae (figs. 23–27), with inscriptions similarly placed in association with the handle zone. Methone Pierias I, nos. 5 and 9 preserve alphabetic inscriptions near their handles, while no. 16 has both alphabetic and non-alphabetic graffiti, and the handles of nos. 81 and 20 are exemplary of those with non-alphabetic marks alone. Pappas_023

Fig. 23: Methone Pierias I, no. 5: Amphora fragment, unknown provenance, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: vacat? ΘΕΟ vacat.

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Pappas_024

Fig. 24: Methone Pierias I, no. 9: “Methonean” amphora, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: vacat ΑL ( = ΑΛ) vacat ←.

Pappas_025

Fig. 25: Methone Pierias I, no. 16: Samian amphora fragment, late 8th–early 7th century BCE: vacat EY vacat ←.

Pappas_026

Fig. 26: Methone Pierias I, no. 81: Thermaic amphora handle and lip, late 8th–early 7th century BCE.

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Pappas_027

Fig. 27: Methone Pierias I, no. 20: “Methonean” amphora, late 8th–early 7th century BCE.

Again, it is tempting to try to understand the inscriber’s decisions about the form of these inscriptions from the perspective of these objects’ function, if not from their content, which, as often as not, eludes. I think it is reasonable to hypothesize that—just as I have suggested of inscribed cups in their drinking context—the placement of these etchings near or on a handle is meant to catch the attention of those using it, whether in transport, storage, or the act of tipping to empty its contents. Because of their placement, one could not help but come into contact with these etched marks while using the vessel, perhaps visually, perhaps haptically, as would have been the case for someone gripping handles that were incised. I also want to call attention to the visual organization of, for example, the non-alphabetic engravings that are sometimes carefully centered (e.g. Methone Pierias I, no. 16, fig. 25), or even seem to interact purposefully with the extant painted decoration (e.g. nos. 81 and 20, figs. 26, 27). Ultimately, however, consideration of these additional inscribed objects leads rather to more complex questions than to any clear resolutions. Nevertheless, these issues are essential, and point to future directions in studies such as this.

What Follows ‘Form Follows Function’? To return to the four questions I posed at this essay’s outset, I do want to offer some answers, even if they are partial and tentative: at least some objects with alphabetic inscriptions from the Methone corpus exhibit an aesthetic integration of content, form, and function. Moreover, and significantly, the same seems to be true for objects inscribed with non-alphabetic marks. Not only valuable for revealing the aesthetics of its inscriptions, however, the corpus also exposes more broadly some of the theoretical and methodological challenges inherent in a study such as this, namely, the range of analytical approaches possible, and

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their respective validity. For example, is it more fruitful to compare inscribed objects of similar shape, i.e., function; similar inscriptional placement, i.e., form; or, similar content? That is, should we examine drinking cups with inscriptions in the lip zone alongside drinking cups with inscriptions associated with handles; or would it be more fruitful to look at drinking cups with inscribed handles alongside amphorae with inscribed handles; or, should we group all owner’s inscriptions together, regardless of the different shaped objects and/or particular zones on those objects in which they are found. Indeed, we must clarify our scholarly approach to these matters before we can most fully and fruitfully integrate the relevant comparanda from other sites, whether Eretria, Kommos, Hymettus, or beyond.22 In sum, I have wanted to question actively the various methods by which we approach and assess Greek inscribed objects, not to offer a single overarching concrete theory, but to initiate a conversation about appropriate modes of organizing the material and applying our analysis to it. Nevertheless, even this brief and preliminary review of the Methone corpus leads me to conclude in general that the material context into which an inscription was placed and subsequently viewed can be seen to have influenced its form. Since this holds true for alphabetic and non-alphabetic inscriptions alike, we are reminded to consider the complex issue of content carefully. Perhaps we should not be so quick to distinguish alphabetic and nonalphabetic inscriptions from one another after all, since their form seems often to have been subject to the same considerations, considerations we may at least preliminarily deem “aesthetic.” It now remains to develop the issues raised as we refine our methods for assessing the aesthetics of early Greek inscriptions.

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_____ 22 For example, it is tempting to assess the Methone material alongside the trends we observe of the inscribed corpora at these sites. We could compare Methone’s nearly 200 graffiti on cups and amphorae, of which 25 are designated as alphabetic (ca. 12%), to Iron Age Kommos, which yields 60–65 graffiti on cups and amphorae; of Kommos’ 25 graffiti on cups, 70% are alphabetic, while only 10% of graffiti on 35–40 amphorae are deemed so (Csapo et al. 2000). Or, we might wish to consider Eretria’s contemporary graffiti on cups and amphorae, for which 27 of a total 66 appear to be alphabetic (Kenzelmann Pfyffer et al. 2005; Theurillat 2007). See, too, Langdon 1976 for the distribution of alphabetic and non-alphabetic graffiti on primarily cups from 7th century Hymettos. While such data suggest the possibility of meaningful comparative study for the Methone material, it is not possible to execute such a study fully or to the greatest benefit until we have consciously addressed the methodological issues I outline here. How we categorize and otherwise organize the data will surely affect our analyses.

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Marek Węcowski

Wine and the Early History of the Greek Alphabet Early Greek Vase-Inscriptions and the Symposion* Marek Węcowski In memory of Martin L. West Wine and the Early History of the Greek Alphabet

Abstract: As far as the early epigraphic material is concerned, the thrill of the Methone excavations is that they brought to light so much new material but at the same time they seem to confirm many earlier scholarly insights and interpretations. Among other things, as the editors of the Methone volume rightly observe, the new finds confirm the importance of convivial inscriptions at the earliest attested stage of the Greek alphabetization. It is time, then, to ask some general questions about the manner such texts were supposedly to be used at symposia. In particular, I will focus on the fact that so many among the earliest Greek vase-inscriptions are first-person utterances ranging from short ownership statements to elaborate poetic compositions. I will try to show that, to account for the relative frequency of the first-person early vase-inscriptions, we

_____

* This paper, whose shorter version was presented at the Methone Conference, was subsequently read at the University of Warsaw (November, 2012), an annual meeting of the European Network for the Study of Ancient Greek History in Helsinki (May, 2013), at the Institute of Classical, Mediterranean and Oriental Studies of Wrocław University (December, 2013), and, in chronological order, at the Departments of Classics of Princeton University, University of Cincinnati, and Columbia University (April, 2014), as well as at the La Sapienza University in Rome (November, 2014), at the Adam Mickiewicz University in Poznań, and at the Jagiellonian University in Cracow (March, 2016). I am grateful to my audiences at all these occasions for their valuable comments and remarks. I owe a debt of particular gratitude to the Fulbright Foundation for a visiting research fellowship at Princeton University (Spring 2014), where the final version of this paper was written. I am also very thankful to my colleagues from the Department of Classics at Princeton for their hospitality and intellectual generosity during this enjoyable and stimulating stay. My heartfelt thanks go to Yannis Tzifopoulos, not only for inviting me to this fascinating conference, but also for his humane indulgence for the tardiness of the final draft of my paper. I hereby thank the editors and the anonymous referees of this volume for their helpful criticism and comments. I am indebted to Benedetto Bravo, Jerzy Danielewicz, Margalit Finkelberg, Antonis Kotsonas, Renate Schlesier, Sławomir Sprawski, Stephanie West, Aleksander Wolicki, and Adam Ziółkowski for discussing with me various aspects of this paper. All remaining errors are of course mine. Last but not least, this paper profited also from a research grant (12H 12 0193 81) from Poland’s National Programme for the Development of Humanities.

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need to visualize the sympotic workings of such utterances but also the conceivable sympotic functions of the vessels they adorn. Accordingly, we ought to distinguish between different shapes of vases to interpret their inscriptions in a sympotic context. I hope that the results of this inquiry will make it possible for us to say something more about the early phases of the use of the Greek alphabet and about the mechanisms of its spread among the Greeks at so early a date.

Rudolf Wachter aptly called the issue of the invention of the Greek alphabet “a black hole of the history” (Wachter 2003, 33). At first sight, without losing its historical gravity, this particular black hole is perhaps becoming slightly less impenetrable in recent decades, owing, inter alia, to two sets of new data, one of which is external and one internal to our problem. On the one hand, one must face the implications of the discovery of a famous, although still mysterious inscription in Greek letters from Osteria dell’Osa in Lazio (ca. 770 BCE in the traditional chronology),1 and those of the recent calibration of the radiocarbon dates for the great tumuli in Gordion and, consequently, of a much earlier dating of early Phrygian inscriptions (to the end of the 9th through the early 8th century BCE).2 If indeed somehow related to the invention of the Greek alphabet, which of course is far from certain but very plausible, both findings seem now to point to a higher date for the Greek adoption of a Western Semitic script – at some point in the ninth century BCE, i.e. long before our earliest surviving Greek inscriptions in the second half of the eighth century. One of my goals in this paper is to account for this perplexing chronological discrepancy. On the other hand, it is not too early, I think, to try to reassess the implications of the staggering discovery at Methone in Macedonia. We should all be deeply grateful to Yannis Tzifopoulos and his collaborators for the amazingly prompt publication of these revolutionary excavations that yielded twenty-five new alphabetic inscriptions found alongside one hundred thirty seven vases bearing non-alphabetic signs from the second half of the eighth- through the mid-seventh century BCE. The most striking fact about the Methone findings is that, for all its awesome richness, it tends to confirm rather than undermine a pattern observable even before for the earliest preserved Greek inscriptions. Before the Methone

_____ 1 Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, no. D1 (with earlier bibliography adduced). Recently, see esp. Ridgway 1996; Ampolo 1997; Bietti Sestieri 2000, 28–29. For two different unorthodox readings of this inscription, see Peruzzi 1992, esp. 463–468 and Guzzo (2006 [2011]). Cf. in general Lane Fox 2009, 128–129. Cf. also R. Janko in this volume. For recent attempts at revising the Mediterranean chronology, cf. below, n. 5. 2 See esp. DeVries/Kuniholm/Sams/Voigt 2003 and Brixhe 2004, esp. 275–277.

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discovery, scholars did not fail to perceive that at least a half of the known eighth-century inscriptions originated from the island of Pithekoussai outside the Bay of Naples.3 It was an Euboean colony, so the question was understandably raised regarding the role of the Euboeans in the act or process of the adoption of the alphabet by the Greeks. Some scholars even suggested that the discovery itself might have taken place in Pithekoussai, given, inter alia, a certain number of Levantine (Phoenician or Aramaic) inscriptions found alongside the Greek ones on this island as well.4 This hypothesis is untenable for purely chronological reasons (the Greeks settled there too late for the actual invention to have taken place on the island),5 but Euboeans will probably never lose their place of honour in scholarly debates on this issue. For Methone in Macedonia is again an Euboean settlement. In this paper, I will follow a slightly different path of inquiry. Instead of focusing on the geography of the earliest Greek inscriptions, I will try to deal with their form and their original function.6 Following this path, we will not be able to solve the puzzle of the invention of the Greek alphabet, but what I hope we can do is to say something more about the early phases of its use and about the mechanisms of its spread among the Greeks at so early a date. I also hope that at least the problem of the relative antiquity of the adoption of the alphabet can accordingly be shed additional light on. As I already mentioned, the Methone material strikingly confirms what could be seen even before. In the Geometric inscriptions from Pithekoussai, Eretria, as now in Methone, as well as in several early archaic sites, whenever a longer sequence of letters can be established what we get fairly often are property inscriptions or, to be more precise, first-person utterances ranging from short ownership statements to elaborate poetic compositions, mostly written on wine-drinking paraphernalia, i.e. on the vases used for wine drinking and winepreparation and produced to serve this purpose.7 The actual number of such in-

_____ 3 See e.g. Bartoněk 1998, 159. 4 For the inscriptions, see Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, nos. A1–A4. Such hypotheses were convincingly discarded by Johnston 1983, 64 and 68. 5 In theory, a higher date for the Greek settlement on Pithekoussai would necessarily follow the adoption of a High Chronology system for the entire Mediterranean, but a recent revision of the traditional chronology in the Mediterranean has been conclusively criticised e.g. by Fantalkin/Finkelstein/Piasetzky 2011. 6 In a more general vein, cf. A. Pappas in this volume. 7 See provisionally, based primarily on the catalogue compiled by Bartoněk/Buchner 1995: drinking cups, poetic inscriptions (no. 1 [the “Cup of Nestor”, from Pithekoussai] and B1 [from Eretria]; add now Methone Pierias I, no. 2 [the cup of Hakesandros]); drinking cups, ownership inscriptions consisting of a name in genitive with a verb (Bartoněk/Buchner 1995: nos. 6, 7, 8, 13, 14

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scriptions is difficult to establish with any precision given the fragmentary state of their preservation. Based on the catalogue compiled by Antonín Bartoněk and Giorgio Buchner in 1995, on the catalogue of the Eretria inscriptions published in 2005, and on the catalogue of the Methone inscriptions published in 2012, one can only tentatively say that they are forty-eight in total; the lion’s share of this group being inscribed on drinking cups. This striking and widely overlooked fact should make us reassess the role of the elite life-style, and in particular of the aristocratic symposion,8 at this early stage of Greek literacy.9 Let me begin with a simple, if not outright naïve, question. The class of early inscriptions I just referred to must have been originally used in a domestic context. Why, then, do we so often find first-person ownership statements?10 In principle, they should have been rather superfluous in such a context. Yet, one particularly meaningful testimony comes from the Geometric sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros in Eretria.11 It is a small monochrome LG cup whose inconspicuous size and quality interestingly contrast with the fragmentarily preserved dipinto. The handsome large letters put there before the firing of the vase

_____ [from Pithekoussai], B4 [from Eretria]; add Methone Pierias I, nos. 1, 3, 7, as well as Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, no. 1 [from Eretria], a seventh-century inscription from the Greek sanctuary at Kommos: Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, no. 27, and, more tentatively, no. 8); drinking cups, name without a verb (Bartoněk/Buchner 1995: nos. 9, 10, 11, 12, 15, 16, 17 [from Pithekoussai], B2 and B3 [both from Eretria], B20 [from Al Mina], probably 5 more from the Daphnephoreion in Eretria and two more from elsewhere in Eretria, and two, or four, more from Kommos: Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, nos. 21, 22, and possibly 22A and 11, but the editors of the Kommos inscriptions state that “[i]t seems likely […] that most of the inscriptions in the first group [i.e. on drinking-cups – M.W.] are owner’s marks” [Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 103]); oinochoai (Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, nos. 20, 21? [from Pithekoussai]; one more possible from the Daphnephoreion in Eretria); aryballoi (nos. 22 [from Pithekoussai], C1 [from Cyme, the vessel of Tataie, poetic inscription]); amphorae (nos. 23, 24 [from Pithekoussai], and possibly B10 [from Lefkandi]; add now Methone Pierias I, no. 4, less likely also nos. 6 and 9, and perhaps Csapo/Johnston/ Geagan 2000, nos. 40?, 47, 52, 54? [all from Kommos])). See also Papadopoulos in this volume. 8 For an excellent introduction to “the culture of the symposion” see now Murray 2009. 9 Cf. the pioneering analyses by Schnapp-Gourbeillon 2002, 296–314. See more below, p. 321– 325. 10 From a more general perspective, the same question should be asked regarding the sheer number of alphabetical (eleven in total) and non-alphabetical (fifteen in total) signs inscribed on drinking vessels from Methone; the other “half” of alphabetical and non-alphabetical signs from Methone being inscribed, more understandably, on transport or storage vessels. See below, p. 321–323 with n. 40. 11 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, no. 1 (FK003823). Cf. also Csapo/Johnston/ Geagan 2000, no. 3, a late eighth- or early seventh century inscription from Kommos, incised on the bottom of a South Cretan cup before its firing.

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show well that this “ownership formula”, so to speak, was pre-ordered by the prospective owner of the vase. My next question is why longer and sometimes even poetic inscriptions of this period, and slightly later ones, elaborate on this very model, as is the case for the famous “Cup of Nestor” from Pithekoussai (on the interpretation of the majority of scholars), for the Hakesandros cup, one of the highlights of the Methone excavations, or for the Tataie vase from the Italian Cyme, to which I will return shortly. I would argue that to account for the relative frequency of the first-person early vase-inscriptions we need to visualize the sympotic workings of such utterances but also the conceivable sympotic functions of the vessels they adorn. Following Oswyn Murray, by symposion I mean, to put it in descriptive terms, a nocturnal specialised drinking occasion, a luxurious wine party with a highly ritualised ceremonial, in which a very restricted group of males participated on an equal footing, and which was dominated by an egalitarian and at the same time competitive spirit of the aristocratic participants.12 To be more precise, I would define the symposion as a culture-oriented banquet whose entertainments and pastimes were focused on testing cultural skills and competences of its individual participants. Dexterity games, poetic performances, and more or less sophisticated table-talks were all executed in a competitive manner in a series of sympotic contests. As I tried to show elsewhere, the basic principle of sympotic entertainment was the rule of doing things epidexia, or endexia, “to the right”.13 Almost all sympotic competitions and performances were executed taking turns when the cup circulating round the dining hall reached each consecutive diner. This custom is famously alluded to in a negative manner by Kritias of Athens (fr. 6 West2, ll. 1–4) in the fifth century, but its observance can be traced back to the practice clearly underlying, but never explicitly depicted in, the Homeric poems.14 As we shall see shortly, if we assume compliance with this habit in 8th century Pithekoussai, we may better understand the function of the epigram of the “Cup of Nestor”. In some cases, such as competitions in heavy drinking (called polyposia or kōthōnismos), there might be several cups in circulation at the same time,15 but

_____ 12 See esp. Murray 1983, 1994, 2009; cf. Węcowski 2014, 19–83. 13 Cf. in general Węcowski 2002a and Węcowski 2014, 85–124. 14 See Węcowski 2002b. 15 In Xenophon’s Symposion (2. 23–27), we hear of two possible modalities of “sport drinking”. Whereas Socrates opts for the simultaneous use of numerous small cups, refilled as fast as possible, circulating in the dining room, another character of this dialogue suggests using a “big phiale”, i.e. just one circulating vessel, but larger than usual.

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usually there was just one, whose movement regulated the pace of drinking and of many other sympotic pastimes.16 This very fact may partly explain the regular occurrence of ownership formulas on drinking cups. Quite simply, asserting the ownership of one’s cup during a symposion was a crucial issue. Bringing one’s vessel to a symposion could easily result in losing it, when appropriated by someone else – on purpose or just by accident, when the cup circulated long into the night among the more and more intoxicated friends. Unsurprisingly, on later archaic vases we often find simple theft-preventing formulas, such as the one from Berezan, of ca. 550–525 BCE: Μηδε̄́ ς με κλέ ψει (IGDOlbia 38), rather modestly inscribed on the bottom of a small cup. However, since the symposion was a crucial element of the aristocratic life-style and a prestigious occasion par excellence, we should not be surprised when faced with a commanding presence of large and/or beautiful inscriptions such as the aforementioned Eretrian dipinto, the Philion’s cup (Methone Pierias I, no. 1 [Μθ 2249]), and perhaps two more, very fragmentary, skyphoi from Methone (no. 3 [Mθ 2253] and no. 7 [Mθ 2255]). The simple theft-preventing formula could be rounded off by a warning to potential thieves of the vase, who are threatened with blinding, as in the case of the Tataie inscription and most probably of that of Hakesandros from Methone. More sophisticated uses of the ownership formula are much more interesting. “I belong to Parmenon and to Strimpon; no-one should steal me”, as in the case of a Greek inscription from an Etruscan tomb in Pontecagnano (IGDGG II 31). Two friends own the vase in common and defend their proprietary rights. It is possible that we face here a special type of vessel, the so-called “loving cup”, φιλοτή σιος [or φιλοτησί α] κύ λιξ, symbolically uniting two sexual partners.17 Even more arresting are paradoxical uses of such formulas.18 An archaic skyphos from Leontinoi belonged to three members of a group of friends who emphasise their ownership of the cup, but at the same time make it available for use by all the members of the group. A late archaic skyphos from Gela (IGASMG I² 10) says: “I belong to Panchares and I am a common property of the friends” (Πανχάρεός εἰμι | καὶ το̑ ν φίλο̄ ν ϙοινά εἰμι), thus transferring the “proprietary rights” to the cup – in earnest or as a joke – to all the philoi present at their symposia. With my last example, we enter into the realm of sympotic conundrums and jokes. Let us imagine a diner who, upon drinking this circulating wine-cup,

_____ 16 Individual cups could sometimes be given to each diner, refilled when needed before the circulating cup turned full circle, but it was the very cup in circulation that focused the attention of the participants and gave rise to some important aspects of sympotic “ideology”. 17 Cf. below, p. 320 with n. 33. 18 See below, p. 315–318.

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reads the typical ownership formula only to discover Panchares’s generosity when reading the second part of the inscription. All these formulas as well as their paradoxical uses such as this one, gain their full force when read while being passed around from one diner to another. At times, however, the desired effect may be rather vulgar, as in the case of a skyphos from Olbia dated to ca. 500 BCE (IGDOlbia 31), where an obscene sexual exhortation is completed by the name on the opposite side of the vessel, intended to be read separately (“who wanted to have sexual intercourse, let him pay ten ‘arrowhead’ [coins] and have it with… Hephaistodoros”). Incidentally, since the name was written in a rather coarse manner by another hand, we may face here a pre-ordered sympotic joke only to be “personalized”, so to speak, at the appropriate moment. In technical terms, the original inscriber was keen on producing a very peculiar effect. When given the cup, a diner was supposed to read the inscription on one side of the vase and then to turn it around to discover who among his fellow-drinkers (present or absent) was targeted by this brutal joke. Or else, he could read the first part aloud and then pass the cup to the next diner in row to finish off the joke catching him by surprise. Let us hope the latter was not Hephaistodoros himself! The inscriber of yet another late archaic skyphos knew how to make the most of a similar opportunity (SEG 35.1009). Up to a certain point, the text seems fairly courteous, as the owner of the cup, a certain Porkos, gives the cup to his thiasos of (most probably) fellow-drinkers. In other words, he circulates this vase among his friends at a symposion. At the same time, since the cup may prefer to stay with a certain Phryne, no one should pick it if it does so. So far so good, but then comes a sudden and vulgar twist: the one who will read this graffito aloud will be… sodomized by the inscriber. This time, too, the concluding phrase, when read aloud by an unprepared feaster, will produce a mockingly surprising effect. In a way, such inscriptions become a peculiar form of skōmma, or sympotic banter, since we may expect that their respective insults targeted one of the members of the sympotic group of the originator of this inscription. Let me stress that in all these cases the literary “surprise” will only be possible when the vase circulates in the dining-room.19

_____

19 It is important to notice that such vases were most probably not intended for one-off use, although it is true that the “surprise element” would be markedly diminished after the first use of a given cup. On the one hand, however, the very frequency of such “surprising” inscriptions on drinking vases might in principle suggest a rather high level of flexibility of early archaic drinking circles, not infrequently changing their composition from one occasion to another. On the other hand, in the case of rather delicate objects constantly changing hands at all-night wine-banquets, the usual “life-expectancy” of circulating sympotic cups would perhaps not be long enough for their jokes to become really boring.

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At this juncture, I would like to return to our sophisticated poetic inscriptions of the Geometric period that ingeniously elaborate on the typically sympotic ownership formula. Peter A. Hansen and Oswyn Murray brilliantly observed that the epigram of the “Cup of Nestor” (CEG 454 = IGDGG I 2) consists of a series of deliberately surprising twists of thought, or aprosdokēta.20 As we have seen, this is a common feature of some elaborate sympotic inscriptions of the archaic period. Lilian H. Jeffery and Barry Powell argued that in this poem we should recognise “the verse-capping symposiastic skolion” (thus Powell 1989, 340).21 What they meant was a “recording” of a series of consecutive poetic utterances by two or three diners responding to one another. I find the idea of such an epigraphic “recording” of bits of a real symposion rather implausible, but both scholars rightly pointed out the interactive character of the poetic situation involved. Meanwhile, I would rather take the three lines not as documenting a bygone poetic exchange, but as a sophisticated and conventional scenario for a future one. Whether we ascribe the text of the epigram to one, two, or three “poetic personae”, the essence of this utterance is literary surprise and the resulting intellectual pleasure of its reader or readers. I believe that we may assume that both formal “models” playfully used in this epigram to produce a series of literary “surprises” – the ownership formula and the anti-theft curse – strongly link this text with its natural, i.e. sympotic context. Moreover, I would argue that to fully grasp the finesse of the provocative, but of course by no means coarse, epigram of the “Cup of Nestor”, we should envision its sympotic workings in the vein of the previously adduced inscriptions of the archaic period. We do not need to distribute its consecutive and paradoxical “turns” among two or three “poetic personae”, because the desired effect will be produced just as well by reading its consecutive lines aloud by several diners or by just one of them when the circulating cup reached him – and surprised him by a series of sophisticated concetti put forward by the owner of the vase. In this context, one should also cite another and very fragmentary inscription from Eretria (Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, B1; LSAG 434 (B), pl. 73,4), also inscribed on a “bird kotylē” and dating from the period of the “Cup of Nestor”. What is left of the text is enough to discern a poetic epigram closely resembling that of Pithekoussai, most probably consisting of two hexameters (lines 2 and 3) and of one line of unclear metrical status at its beginning. The epigram once began with an ownership statement and a conditional formula, perhaps a theftpreventing one, followed by the utterance promising a pleasant (or perhaps unpleasant) fate to the one who will drink from the vase. And this time the “who-

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20 Hansen 1976 and Murray 1994. 21 Cf. already Jeffery 1984, 294 no. 378.

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ever” is clearly feminine.22 Poorly preserved as it is, it amounts to a precious testimony showing, already in the second half of the 8th century, a variation on the themes or even on a poetic form known from the epigram of the “Cup of Nestor”, or rather on the form of widely circulating convivial epigrams of this period. In other words, it testifies to a certain poetic convention used by some symposiasts in the Euboean milieu, in the Aegean and overseas. Thus, this fragmentary inscription becomes our earliest witness to a certain homogeneity within sympotic culture, a homogeneity that must have been built upon a rather high level of cultural competences of early Greek symposiasts.23 One gets the same impression when confronted with the inscription of Hakesandros of the same period found recently in the course of the excavations in Methone. Whereas in the case of the cup of Philion from the same site, the aesthetic value of the inscription is clear at first sight,24 the regular and experienced writing of the inscription of the Hakesandros’ cup is no less striking. The inscription – difficult though it is to arrange a text precisely circumscribing the entire vessel – is well-planned and carefully effectuated, with only one and rather clever correction at its end. This is a specialist’s work, no doubt experienced in longer texts and perhaps working in a medium easier to master than pottery. Just as in the case of the “Cup of Nestor”, once again we face here an object designed for those capable of appreciating the aesthetic value of a written text. The Hakesandros inscription (Methone Pierias I, no. 2 [Μθ 2248], p. 341) obviously plays with the same “models”, the ownership-formula and the anti-theft curse, but its fragmentary state makes it difficult for us to decide whether it was a straightforward anti-theft utterance partly rendered, as its counterpart from Kyme, the Tataie inscription, in the iambic metre (?); or perhaps, although less

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22 Cf. below, p. 319, with n. 28, for early testimonies concerning the presence of courtesans at symposia. 23 It must additionally be said that yet another inscribed drinking cup may well have belonged to a short sympotic poem, namely a LG I inscription from Pithekoussai (from the Scarico Gosetti dump, Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, no. 2: ευποτ{α}ερ[), on a locally produced kotylē, fragmentarily preserved, perhaps a generation before the “Cup of Nestor”. Yet another interesting poetic piece is preserved on a fragmentary oinochoē from Ithaca (CEG 453; ca. 700 BCE), but this snippet, as well as the famous epic verse of the “Dipylon Jug” from Athens (ca. 730 BCE) may perhaps be interpreted not as “sympotic epigrams” or short poems somehow related to a convivial occasion, but as “citations” from otherwise unknown poems (thus, for the Ithacan oinochoē, P.A. Hansen in CEG, p. 252), possibly even circulating in a written form. I hope to return to this issue elsewhere. 24 Incidentally, the vessel’s original capacity was rather substantial, so the cup might have served for what we may call the “sport drinking” (cf. above, with n. 15). The inscription was inscribed in depth so as to contrast sharply with the black glaze of the vase. In general, cf. A. Pappas in this volume.

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likely, some paradoxical twist should be expected in the long lacuna after the first-person ownership statement. What is certain for both vases is that in both cases the (partly) poetic form made their dangerous maledictions, in principle rather inappropriate to a friendly circle of fellow-drinkers, more conventional and thus more tactful, assuming, after the initial ownership statement, the form of a rather mild sympotic banter, or skōmma. To complete my argument, I would like to say a few words about two extremely interesting inscriptions, one of them already mentioned in my paper. Both help us see more clearly the Greek drinking habits of the time and realize the richness of possible applications of the alphabetical script involved. The case of Tataie (SEG 47.1475 = IGDGG I 12) is difficult as the vase that carries the inscription is not a wine-cup intended to circulate in the dining room, but an aryballos (it calls itself lekythos), a flask originally containing oil, perfume, or unguents, found in an inhumation grave in Cyme. Even more surprisingly, the proud owner of the vessel is a woman and the majority of scholars would agree that decent women did not attend archaic (and classical) symposia. For both the aforementioned reasons, the link between this inscribed vessel and the symposion may seem doubtful. On the other hand, the iambic inscription is a perfect match for early convivial inscriptions and would make little sense in another context. Now, from the late classical playwright Alexis (fr. 147 Kassel–Austin, ap. Athenaeus VIII 365 d), we learn that small perfume vases, alabastoi, might serve as symbolai, i.e. symbolic contributions brought to symposia by their participants. Of the custom of bringing one’s (unspecified) τῖμος, i.e. τιμή , for the symposion (later also called symbola, or merides, “parts” of the symposion), we hear already from Archilochus of Paros in the first half of the seventh century (fr. 124b West2; cf. 13 West2).25 I assume that perfume-flasks brought to symposia by their participants might have circulated among the diners just as wine-cups did. And this assumption seems to be borne out, at this early stage of the development of the Greek symposion, by an inscribed Rhodian aryballos from Ialysos from the second half of the seventh century BCE (LSAG 348)26 – i.e. shortly after the aryballos of Tataie. Even closer in geographical and chronological terms, from the late eighth or early seventh century, is an inscribed Early Protocorinthian aryballos from an industrial area on Pithekoussai, originally bearing an ownership inscription (Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, no. 22: ε]μι). Now, from late classical authorities we learn that garlands were distributed to the diners epidexia at the outset of the symposion, and this was exactly the moment when

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25 See more in Węcowski 2014, 61–63. 26 Note, however, that the same piece of pottery is (hesitantly) interpreted as belonging to a cup in LSAG 356 no. 2.

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they were offered perfumes as well.27 Therefore, I believe that the question of how a woman could have been supposed to bring her own contribution to a 7th century symposion can be answered. We have to assume that she was a courtesan, whose euphemistic Greek name, hetaira, implies some limited form of momentary equality, involving among other things participating in some sympotic pastimes on an equal footing with men. The name of the owner of this aryballos may not be meaningless in this context. I take Tataie to be a Lallname, from τατα, so perhaps to be understood as “Daddy’s girl”, a nickname rather than a proper name. If my argument holds, this might be one of the oldest names of a Greek hetaira attested in a sympotic context.28 Thus far, I have been dealing with first-person utterances in a sympotic context. Here, I would like to offer an alternative convivial interpretation of a graffito on a drinking cup from Methone tentatively interpreted by the editors as bearing a name beginning with ξενι-,29 so perhaps another possible inscription

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27 See esp. Matro of Pitane, fr. 1 Olson–Sens. 28 Another early epigraphic testimony to the presence of female servants at symposia may well be the inscribed oinochoē from the San Montano necropolis on Pithekoussai (Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, no. 20), bearing a retrograde inscription Αμες εμι, from the end of the eighth or the beginning of the seventh century BCE. I think that the propriety formula on this staggering vase (pointing again to a fair degree of alphabetization in Pithekoussai) was just modelled on the inscriptions of the type analysed thus far, although one can also envision a pouring vessel circulating among the few participants of a very intimate symposion (in which case Ame would rather be a famous hetaira, present or absent from their symposia, than a cupbearer – if such a distinction was indeed valid at the time – and the inscription would rather be a joke inscribed or commissioned by one of the diners, not necessarily involving a functionally literate female servant). For other early names of hetairai, see perhaps SEG 35.1018: Ϝοινάνθα μ’ ἔδōκε Μ[υρ]τίχαι καὶ ταινίαν (late 7th century BCE, on a Corinthian alabastron, from Selinous; in IGASMG I2 80, the second name is restored as Μ[ℎ(?)ε]τίχαι; the editors of SEG 19.614 date the inscription to ca. 700 BCE). If indeed featuring two courtesans’ names, this object would be a “professional” present of one hetaira to another, most probably to be used at symposia, but maybe at the same time a love-gift. A fascinating and novel interpretation of the feminine names of Sappho’s hetairai as suitable for courtesans, and thus a convincing reinterpretation of the “glorious courtesans’ cosmos” of Sappho’s poems, was recently put forward by Schlesier 2013. 29 The editors read here a retrograde graffito ΣΧΕΝΙ (cf. Méndez Dosuna in this volume, esp. p. 249–258), assuming an erroneous interchange of letters in the opening consonant cluster (cf. Wachter 2001, 230–231 §110). My impression is that the inscriber started to incise the letters from left to right, beginning with the khi, but upon reaching his second letter, the sigma, was stopped by the lower part of the cup’s handle, changed his mind and continued in the opposite direction. For one thing, one should take into account the disproportionally tall letter khi, most probably executed as the initial letter of the planned word (cf. e.g. Methone Pierias I, no. 4 [Μθ 2237], for a disproportionally tall initial alpha); otherwise, the position of this letter would be more difficult to understand. Besides, the oblique ductus of this graffito can best be ex-

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of this type (no. 22 [Μθ 2247]; see Fig. 1). However, from later sources, we know of a number of sympotic games, or specialized toasts, which sometimes give their names to specialized drinking vessels used to that effect. Thus, we have the μετανιπτρί ς, the “after ablution cup” used in the opening libations of the symposion;30 the ἀνίσωμα, or “equalizer”, most probably a penalty drink for those coming late to symposia;31 the ἄμυστις, the “breathless cup”, for a special kind of sport drinking, drunk in one draft (ἀμυστί ), without closing one’s mouth.32 Finally, there is the φιλοτησί α (or φιλοτή σιος) κύ λιξ, the “loving cup” (cf. above, p. 314).33 Now, we have two late archaic drinking cups actually bearing the word ἄμυστις. I take this to suggest – perhaps only amusingly – the principal purpose of the vase.34 This is how I would be tempted to interpret our xeni- cup from Methone. I would understand this sequence of letters as an abbreviation, e.g. for ξενί η κύ λιξ (vel sim.), the “cup of hospitality”, or else as an abbreviation for the plural ξέ νι[α], the “gift of hospitality”.35 After all, in Geometric Methone, the principal function of local elite drinking-events must have been integrating foreign guests, the “Panhellenes” from all over the Aegean, or just visitors from other communities of the Euboean world. As such, when circulating in a dining room, the skyphos under consideration here would either fulfil a similarly paradoxical function as the aforementioned late archaic skyphos

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plained if we assume that the inscriber’s original intention was to omit the handle going underneath it. Therefore, what I believe we should read here is the more regular sequence ΧΣΕΝΙ. I owe this point to a discussion with Aleksander Wolicki. 30 For this, see esp. Athenaeus X 486e–487b, with numerous pertinent quotations adduced, mostly from comic poets. 31 Cf. Athenaeus X 446f–448b, with reference to Anacreon, fr. 82 Page (PMG 427). 32 Athenaeus XI 783b, quoting the late 5th century comic poet Ameipsias (fr. 21 Kassel– Austin) in Athenaeus XI 783e. 33 See e.g. Theognis 489; Aristophanes, Acharnians 983 and Lysistrata 203; Alexis, fr. 293 (cf. also his fr. 59 and 116) Kassel–Austin; Theopompus Comicus, fr. 33 Kassel–Austin, ll. 8–10; Demosthenes XIX [de falsa leg.] 128; Athenaeus X. 432d and esp. 502b; cf. Pollux, 6.30 and Harpocration s.v. φιλοτησί α (p. 301,12 Dindorf). 34 Two graffiti from Olbia from the late 6th century BCE (IGDOP 28a–b, with comm. ad loc. by L. Dubois, ibid., 70). Cf. a graffito on a kylix from Xanthos in Lycia (CEG 465; ca. 470 BCE). A possible analogy to this group may perhaps be offered by a graffito on a 7th century drinking cup from Kommos (Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 103: μ]έ τρον ἠ[μί ) tentatively rendered by the editors of the Kommos inscriptions as “I am the [cup-] measure of X.”, based on a 6th century Spartan inscription in Boring 1979, 106 no. 76: μέ τριος ἐγὼ Ἀλκ[ (cf. also IG V.1, 945). If this interpretation stands, the Kommos inscription might have amusingly alluded to the “right measure” of wine for the owner of the cup. 35 In which case, an interesting early parallel may perhaps be provided by the inscription αιρχε (probably for χαῖρε) on a small Rhodian (?) bowl from Kamiros from the end of the seventh century (LSAG 348, 356 no. 3a).

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from Gela (IGASMG I2 10; see above, p. 314) – easily identifiable by its inscription but inviting nonetheless; or else, it might have been intended as a handy gift to a foreign guest in Methone. * Some time ago, Annie Schnapp-Gourbeillon observed that “a big part of the earliest [Greek] inscriptions […] is linked with the sphere of competition between aristocrats, with the realm of the banquet, of wine, of dancing [she is alluding here, of course, to the famous “Dipylon Jug” – M.W.], of poetic performances and of love between youths [alluding, of course, to the early inscriptions from Thera – M.W.]. Writing plays some role in a restricted circle of […] fellow-drinkers, of the elites who auto-celebrate themselves in their merry-making” (SchnappGourbeillon 2002, 311). These words raise an important question regarding the representativeness of the 8th and 7th century material considered so far for our understanding of the early phases of the history of the Greek alphabet. Is the situation described by A. Schnapp-Gourbeillon just a historical coincidence due to the state of preservation of early Greek inscribed pottery (see more on this below) or is it somehow informative for our historical interpretations of the early history of the Greek alphabet? As I have already mentioned, the ownership formulas (or simple ownership marks, for that matter) are not easily explainable in the domestic context of the use of the majority of the drinking vases under consideration. (These are not votive objects, as far as one can tell.36) The only other class of early Greek pottery that massively yields epigraphic data (both alphabetic and non-alphabetic) are larger transport and storage vases. For the period under consideration here, twenty inscribed storage and transport vessels in total were found on Pithekoussai alongside nineteen inscribed drinking vases.37 In Kommos, twenty-five

_____ 36 This is why I do not take into account here the roughly contemporary material from Mount Hymettos: Langdon 1976. 37 More specifically, among the non-drinking vases from Pithekussai, one should perhaps discard in this reasoning two inscribed oinochoai (as used for wine-preparation) and an aryballos (as a small container, perhaps a personal item analogous to the vessel of Tataie and possibly serving at symposia; see above, p. 318–319), so the ratio between the two groups under consideration here would be slightly changed. In Kalapodi in Phocis, the Geometric alphabetic inscriptions (three in total) were found exclusively on drinking vessels, but this material, geographically close to Euboea, seems rather fortuitous in its local archaeological context (Kalapodi I, 292–294 with Pl. 59–1, 2, 3). More to the point, in Lefkandi (see Lefkandi I, fasc. i, 89–93 with fasc. ii, Pl. 69), two possible alphabetic ownership inscriptions (very fragmentary) were

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inscriptions appear on drinking cups and at least thirty-five, or forty, on amphorae (Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 102). In Methone, if I am not mistaken, there are eleven alphabetic inscriptions on drinking vases as against fourteen ones on storage and transport vessels. These numbers should be completed by fifteen non-alphabetic signs on drinking vases contrasting with a mass (more than a hundred) of non-alphabetic marks on larger vessels. In a word, then, the two privileged spheres of the use of early alphabetic (and non-alphabetic) inscriptions pertain to commercial and convivial activities of their owners. The former phenomenon is fully understandable as ownership marks and inscriptions or signs pointing to the contents, but also to the producer, forwarder or the addressee of the vessel must have had a clear informative significance (commercial and economic, or else),38 whereas the latter one, the ownership inscriptions and marks on drinking cups, looks at first sight peculiar and should be considered, I think, an idiosyncrasy of the early Greek literacy. Thus, A. Schnapp-Gourbeillon’s remark quoted above seems fully justified. Therefore, after having studied the function of the more elaborated ownership statements on drinking vases above (simpler and even non-alphabetic marks are even more easily explained in the context of the circulation of wine epidexia in the Greek symposion), it is time to ask ourselves how does this idiosyncrasy affect the debate on the early history of the Greek alphabet. First of all, I think that both privileged uses of alphabetical script discussed above should be associated with the activity of early Greek elites, since I assume that the main force behind the long-range Greek trade were aristocrats.39 It is vital to stress here that, on this hypothesis, the share of non-alphabetic signs on the “commercial vessels” does not bespeak of a lower degree of literacy among their users or “operators”, but rather stems from the purely informative function of such inscriptions, thus contrasting with the intellectually more complex and

_____ incised on a large vase (no. 101) and on a large jug/amphora, and so were other alphabetic (nos. 102, 108, 109, 112) and non-alphabetic inscriptions (nos. 103, 106–107, 111) except for two. Only one of them (no. 104), non-alphabetic, was found on a drinking-cup, whereas no. 110 (non-alphabetic, too) adorned an unpainted tile. This pattern, if not accidental, markedly differs from what can be observed in Pithekoussai and Methone. 38 Thus also Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000, 103, on the Kommos inscriptions (“My working hypothesis is […] that the significance of the inscriptions on the amphorae and related vessels is mainly ‘commercial’ in some sense of the word”). See in general Johnston 1979. Cf. also Papadopoulos 1994, with interesting suggestions regarding possible non-commercial use of the EIA “potters’ marks”. Cf. now Papadopoulos in this volume. 39 For this idea, see esp. Bravo 1977, 1984, and 1996. Incidentally, this hypothesis has recently been decisively vindicated by the New Sappho’s “Brothers Song” (see Obbink 2014).

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by and large entertaining functions of the (mostly alphabetic) inscriptions on drinking cups.40 Next, some connection between the ceremonial wine-drinking and the alphabetic script seems securely established for this early stage of the history of the Greek alphabet. To be more precise, a special link seems to have existed between one of the privileged spheres of the use of the alphabet and the elite lifestyle of the time. But how should we understand this relationship? I do not intend to delve here into the slippery issue of the extent of literacy of early Greek elites. I do not imply that all the participants of any given symposion of the Late Geometric period, or of the archaic times for that matter, must have been literate, because the convivial poetry of the time was by and large oral. It was enough if some among the symposiasts were capable of reading such inscriptions aloud to amuse the others. However, at least one piece of external evidence seems to confirm that a rather fair degree of literacy of Euboean elites might have been expected. A short time after the “Cup of Nestor”, one potter or vase painter from Pithekoussai decided to sign his work, an elaborate wine-krater locally produced in the manner of the Cesnola painter, assuming, I think, that some of his elite clients will be persuaded to purchase the vase upon reading his name (ending in –inos).41 More importantly, perhaps, the epidexia procedure of the symposion would no doubt encourage literacy among the members of the convivial elites, just as in later times the poetic culture of the symposion encouraged some degree of literary erudition among the symposiasts – even without assuming that all the aristocratic feasters of the 7th and 6th centuries were capable of composing decent pieces of (convivial) poetry. The crucial thing was the spirit of competition and hence the cultural ambitions of the elites frequenting their symposia. In the light of my argument thus far, we are entitled to conclude that already in the second half of the eighth century BCE the symposion deserves to be identified with a culture-oriented banquet testing the cultural skills and competences of its participants. To go any further in this inquiry into the early phases of the history of the Greek alphabet, we must ask ourselves who were the people capable of, and willing to, use the alphabetic script in such a playful manner in the Late Geo-

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40 See also above, p. 311–319. In the light of my argument below (p. 325–327) it may perhaps be posited that the custom of using alphabetic inscriptions on the storage and transport vessels might have been inspired by the (aristocratic) fashion of inscribing drinking vessels with ownership formulas. 41 Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, no. 43 (Wachter 2001, EUC I). As for the later periods of the history of Greek pottery, the question of the social status of (leading) potters and painters is thorny. In this context, suffice it to say that we must assume a rather high level of functional literacy from an artist focused on the needs and tastes of the (at least partly) literate elite.

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metric period. Accordingly, we must touch upon a rather vexed issue of the social history of this era, namely that of the social status of the Pithekoussan elites.42 Scholars were struck by the lack of the so-called “princely” burials, lavish elite tombs featuring amour and other prestigious items of precious metals, which are so well known from the neighbouring Euboean Cyme on the Italian mainland and from Eretria, and in general surprised by the total absence of weapons in the graves of the cemetery of San Montano on Pithekoussai, where the “cup of Nestor” was found. Therefore, Giorgio Buchner concluded that this cemetery only received representatives of lower social groups, a middle social stratum, merchants, artisans, peasants and seamen, excluding the highest and dominating aristocratic elite.43 If so, the earliest phase of the development of the symposion, and of the playful use of the alphabetic script, should not necessarily be linked with aristocracy properly speaking. I admit I would be reluctant to accept this idea. For one thing, on this hypothesis it would be difficult to explain how was it possible that this (allegedly) non-aristocratic custom of ceremonial drinking won out to become emblematic of Greek aristocrats later on. Whereas the adoption of status symbols by an inferior social group from the superior one would seem natural, it would be difficult to imagine a reverse phenomenon for purely prestigious reasons. More importantly, the absence of weapons in Pithekoussai could be just due to a peculiar local strategy of prestigious consumption and social ostentation. Now, following my teacher Benedetto Bravo, but also a series of recent works by Alain Duplouy,44 I would argue that the archaic Greek aristocracy was not a well-defined social group, but a state of mind, or better, a certain social status to which one could aspire based on one’s economic, political or social success, but which had to be consolidated and reaffirmed at all times using diverse strategies of social recognition. In early archaic times, possible sources of success must have included such activities as long distance trade and participation in colonial and, if you will, pre-colonial enterprises. As to the strategies of social recognition, already in the 8th century BCE, one of these must have consisted in mastering and deploying difficult cultural skills at symposia and in doing so in a competitive manner in order to outperform one’s aristocratic peers. Furthermore, local aristocracies, or at least the most educated and/or ambitious members of these groups, tried to distinguish themselves from their non-aristocratic neighbors within the same political entity by the sheer fact of indulging in using the novel cultural skill of writing,

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42 I epitomise here the main line of my argument from Węcowski 2014, esp. 251–266. 43 See in particular Buchner 1982. 44 See esp. Bravo 1989 and 1996, and Duplouy 2006.

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hardly available at this stage to those from outside the local “leisure class” – and doing all this also in a relaxed and luxurious atmosphere of the symposion, again inaccessible to the “commoners” of their local communities. It is in this sense that I would define the Late Geometric symposion as an aristocratic banquet. And this is how, I think, we should understand the (relative, of course) popularity of the playful (but also serious) use of the alphabetic script by the Euboean elites of the Late Geometric period in a convivial context.45 * It is time to conclude by asking what does it all tell us about the origins of the Greek alphabet. My first conclusion must of course be a negative one. The second half, and more precisely the last quarter of the eighth century BCE, i.e. the historical moment when we are rather suddenly faced with a series of early Greek alphabetic inscriptions, was by no means the moment of the invention of the Greek alphabet. Actually, one could go as far as to say that the appearance of this particular type of early Greek inscriptions had little to do with the history of the alphabet as such. Rather, it testifies to the rise of a new cultural fashion, an aspect of the aristocratic life-style of the time, when the preexisting alpha-

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45 Scholars sometimes view the Pithekoussan elites as fairly multicultural in the Geometric period or, to quote David Ridgway (2009, 444), think of “Pithekoussans – of Carthaginian, Corinthian, Euboean, Iberian, mainland Italian, N[orth] Syrian, Phoenician, and perhaps Sardinian descent”. In the light of my previous argument, and without denying the variegated social character of the Pithekoussan settlement, it seems fair to conclude that, if the symposion belonged to the cultural “language of social distinction” of the Pithekoussans as I believe it did, the necessary condition, or “cultural capital” to fully join in the sympotic entertainment, and thus to join the ranks of the local elite, must have included the competence to appreciate, and most probably perform, short convivial utterances conceived according to the formal rules of Greek poetry, but also implied, perhaps for a more restricted cultural elite, the competence of appreciating the aesthetic value of a written convivial text. In other words, the multicultural and admittedly partly oriental environment we might posit for the Pithekoussan settlement in the Late Geometric period must have been functionally so profoundly Greek that I would hold it superfluous to speak in this context of a functionally multicultural society. No matter where they did come from, the Pithekoussan “Carthaginians, N[orth] Syrians, or Phoenicians” of an elite status must have formed, alongside the Greek elite-members of this community, a rather homogeneous aristocracy defining themselves – at least partly or in some situations – in Greek cultural terms. For local indigenous elites in the Bay of Naples and its surroundings occasionally attending Pithekoussan symposia, the cultural performances during those banquets must have been very attractive as well. (Were they at times translated for them ad hoc by their congenial hosts?) Perhaps such entertainments were appealing enough to become one additional mechanism stimulating their interest not only in Greek drinking customs, but more specifically in the Greek alphabet, too.

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betic script found its way into the aristocratic banquet, thus gaining its high “archaeological visibility” when written on non-perishable pieces of pottery. The Late Geometric custom of proudly inscribing drinking vases must be explicable in its own terms, in relation to the development of the Greek aristocratic banquet and to some extent of Greek convivial poetry.46 To put it differently, it may be so that one important category of our earliest alphabetic material could only see the light of the day in the regions where a very peculiar socio-cultural constellation was available, namely the one featuring a culturally-oriented, competitive aristocracy indulging in their (relatively) lavish symposia. Consequently, my second conclusion can only be a banal one. It seems safe to conclude that the level of sophistication of these inscriptions in both the form and the contents of their texts (a few of them poetic) as well as in their carefully executed visual esthetics, makes it highly improbable that we may be facing here the earliest phases of the history of the Greek alphabet. We must allow not for one, but at least for two, and most probably more, generations of a previous use, and development of different uses, perhaps even poetic ones among them, of the alphabetic script among the Greeks – up to that day having recourse to perishable writing materials (as many scholars have long postulated).47 And this

_____ 46 If accepted, this conclusion, strongly linking an important class of the earliest preserved Greek inscriptions with the sympotic life-style, could perhaps additionally be used to explain why some regions of the Aegean lagged behind in producing early archaic inscriptions in substantial numbers, although when we finally have them later on they show decidedly “primitive” idiosyncrasies in their letter forms. I am thinking here of the case of Crete. It is perhaps no coincidence that – as I tried to show in Węcowski 2014, 299–301 (elaborating upon Kotsonas 2011) – Cretan aristocracy seems to have at least partly resisted the adoption of the newly emerging sympotic drinking customs spreading across the Mediterranean in the eighth century BCE. Instead, in a longer historical perspective, the Cretan elites devoted themselves to a more austere style of drinking incarnated in their unadorned black-glazed cups of substantial dimensions and used these vessels to prepare their wine for each drinker individually. Thus, they would abstain from circulating their wine epidexia – and this was most probably also the case for their table-talks, games, or poetry (if any). However, the Kommos inscriptions adduced earlier in this paper invite caution. At this early stage, Cretan elite drinking customs must have been characterised by a fair degree of local variation, especially when exposed to continuing external contacts. 47 One might perhaps add one rather risky hypothesis here. As I mentioned above, the expertise of some of the inscribers of our LG inscriptions (such as the those of the “Cup of Hakesandros” and of the “Cup of Nestor”), as well as the rounded shapes of some letters of the early Greek alphabets, make it possible that these inscribers were well versed in writing on materials other than pottery and using softer tools, thus painting rather than inscribing their texts. If so, more perishable writing materials would of course be in order. But then, when first tackling writing on pottery, they would rather start with painting their dipinti than inscribing graffiti on vases. Now, all the dipinti from the early phase of the Greek alphabet were executed before the

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conclusion seems to coincide rather nicely with the already mentioned testimony of the inscriptions from Osteria dell’Osa and from the royal tumuli of Gordion. A ninth-century date for the moment of the adoption of the Greek alphabet looks more and more self-evident these days – provided that we understand properly the relationship between the earliest Greek inscriptions and the drinking, or better: the convivial vases they often adorn. One last thing, or perhaps one last unanswerable question is what about the Euboeans, the originators of the main bulk of our earliest preserved Greek inscriptions? Beginning with the groundbreaking work on Early Greece by Oswyn Murray published in 1980 and recently culminating in a beautiful book by Robin Lane Fox,48 the role of the Euboeans in the “cultural transfers” between the Aegean (and far beyond) and the Levantine coasts has been more and more strongly emphasized. – And rightly so. But should we argue for their primacy in adopting and adapting a West-Semitic script based, among other things, on a developed level of their literacy in the Late Geometric period, several generations after the discovery of the Greek alphabet must have taken place?49 Or should we rather conclude that it was their role – for which I tried to argue elsewhere – in spreading the habits of the emerging aristocratic banquet in the Aegean (and beyond) that made them liable to this particular, and novel, use of the alphabet at some point in the eighth century BCE?50 One way or another, we owe a lot to the Euboeans indulging themselves with their drinking-parties.

_____ firing of the vase and are often incorporated in decoration, so they obviously belong to a fairly advanced stage of the use of the alphabetic script. What is striking is the absence of post-firing dipinti in our material. As suggested to me by the late Professor Jerzy Kolendo, in order for one to clearly recognize a badly preserved (post-firing) dipinto in situ, one should carefully wet it to make its paint more visible. In other words, unlike the case of graffiti or pre-firing dipinti, at times one can only find an early post-firing dipinto once one suspects its existence on a potsherd. If so, I wonder whether some still unrecognized Late or even Middle Geometric dipinti could one day change our general view of the history of the Greek alphabet, providing us with a more abundant material produced prior to our earliest and Late Geometric “wave” of early Greek inscriptions. One particular case makes me confident that we may posit such a development. The pre-firing dipinto from Eretria mentioned above (FK003823, see p. 312–313) must have functionally served the same purpose as the (post-firing) ownership graffiti I studied in this paper. The existence of some still undetected post-firing dipinti (ownership dipinti or other) looks all the more plausible. I owe this point to a discussion with Sławomir Sprawski. 48 Murray 1980 and Lane Fox 2009. Cf. also Marek 1993. 49 For a strong case for Cretan primacy in this respect, see recently Janko 2015 and in this volume. Cf. also above, n. 46. 50 Here, however, one needs to tread carefully, since such elements of the elite life-style seem to have spread rather fast in the Aegean, as another “sympotic inscription”, this time from Rhodes from the end of the 8th century (LSAG 347, pl. 67,1: ϙοραϙο ημι ϙυλιχς), shows well.

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Fig. 1: After Methone Pierias I, no. 22.

neue rechte Seite

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Notes on Contributors Notes on Contributors Notes on Contributors Matthaios Bessios ([email protected]), a graduate of Aristotle University, was employed from 1979 until 2014 in the 16th Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities (which in 2004 became the 27th Ephorate and finally the Ephorate of Pieria). He participated in excavations in the prefecture of Thessaloniki and Chalcidice, but his main area of responsibility was Northern Pieria, where he conducted rescue excavations, extensive surface surveys, and supervised large and small public and private constructions. During these years, he excavated sites from all periods, among others, the Neolithic settlement at Makrygialos, the extensive cemeteries at Pydna, the Macedonian tombs in Pydna and Korinos, the settlement and cemeteries at Louloudia in Kitros, and ancient Methone. Results of his investigations are published in Greek and international journals or as chapters in volumes, of which the most recent are: Πιερί δων στέ φανος: Πύ δνα, Μεθώνη και οι αρχαιό τητες της βό ρειας Πιερί ας, Katerini 2010, and Methone Pierias I. Xenia Charalambidou ([email protected]) is Research Associate at the Fitch Laboratory of the British School at Athens; her research interests focus on the macroscopic and petrographic analysis of pottery. Amongst the projects she currently participates at the Fitch Laboratory is the interdisciplinary project: the “Ceramic Industry of Eretria”. She has carried out research and fieldwork in numerous sites in the Aegean with emphasis on Naxos and Euboea. Recent papers in journals and edited volumes are, for example, “Naxos and the Cyclades” (with A. Vlachopoulos) in I.S. Lemos and A. Kotsonas (eds.), A Companion to the Archaeology of Early Greece and the Mediterranean (Wiley-Blackwell, Oxford) (forthcoming); and “Developments on Euboea and at Oropos at the end of the “Dark Ages” (ca. 700 to the mid7th century BC)”, in A. Mazarakis Ainian (ed.), The “Dark Ages” Revisited, Acts of an International Symposium in Memory of William D.E. Coulson, University of Thessaly, Volos, 14–17 June 2007 (Volos 2011). Jenny Strauss Clay ([email protected]) is William R. Kenan Jr. Professor of Classics at the University of Virginia. She is the author of The Wrath of Athena: Gods and Men in the Odyssey; The Politics of Olympus: Form and Meaning in the Longer Homeric Hymns; Hesiod’s Cosmos; Homer’s Trojan Theater; and most recently, “Homer’s Epigraph” (Philologus 2016), in which she argues for Homer’s knowledge of writing. Francesca Dell’Oro ([email protected]) is an associate researcher at the Institute of Archaeology and Sciences of Antiquity of the University of Lausanne. She studied Historical Linguistics and Classical Philology at the University of Milan (2004) and obtained a PhD in “Philology and Linguistics” from the University of Chieti-Pescara (2008). She has published a monograph about the history of the “Caland” notions, Leggi, sistemi e leghe suffissali “di Caland”: Storia della questione “Caland” come problema teorico della linguistica indoeuropea (Innsbruck, 2015). She is currently preparing a new edition of the lead tablets from Styra (Euboea) and is writing a new description of the Euboean dialect taking into consideration the development of colonial dialectal features.

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Richard Janko ([email protected]) is Gerald F. Else Distinguished University Professor of Classical Studies at the University of Michigan. Educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, he previously taught at St. Andrews, Columbia University, the University of California Los Angeles, and University College London. His numerous publications on Hellenic language and literature range from volume IV of the Cambridge commentary on Homer’s Iliad to the papyri of Philodemus’ On Poems from Herculaneum. He also brought out the site-report of the excavations at the Bronze Age settlement of Ayios Stephanos in Laconia. He is a Member of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences and of the American Philosophical Society. Alan Johnston ([email protected]), MA., DPhil (Oxon), FSA is Emeritus Reader in Classical Archaeology, University College London. Publications include Trademarks on Greek Vases; Addenda to L.H. Jeffery, Local Scripts of Archaic Greece; ‘The Greek and Latin inscriptions’ in Gravisca; scavi nel santuario greco, 15 Le iscrizioni; ‘Ceramic Inscriptions’ at http://www. britishmuseum.org/research/online_research_catalogues/ng/naukratis_greeks_in_egypt/ma terial_culture_of_naukratis/ceramic_insciptions.aspx; as well as numerous articles on Greek epigraphy and ceramics. Evangelia Kiriatzi ([email protected]) is Director of the Fitch Laboratory for science-based archaeology of the British School at Athens and Honorary Senior Research Associate at the Institute of Archaeology, University College London. She has published numerous papers in journals and edited volumes and a book on Pottery Production and Supply at Bronze Age Kolonna, Aegina (with Walter Gauss, 2011). She has also edited a volume on Human Mobility and Technological Transfer in the prehistoric Mediterranean (with Carl Knappett, in press). She carries out studies and fieldwork at numerous prehistoric sites across the Aegean, southern Balkans and Anatolia, and co-directs the Kythera Island Project (with Cyprian Broodbank), investigating the long-term cultural and environmental history of a Mediterranean island. Antonis Kotsonas ([email protected]) is Assistant Professor of Classical Archaeologist at the University of Cincinnati and specializes in Early Iron Age and Archaic Greece and the Mediterranean. His research interests focus on material culture and socio-cultural history. He has active study projects in Crete and Macedonia, and his comparative studies take him across the Aegean and from Italy to Cyprus. He is one of the co-authors of Methone Pierias I (2012), and has published a book on pottery from Eleutherna, Crete (2008) and edited a volume on ceramic standardization and variation (2014). Nota Kourou ([email protected]) started her studies at Athens University, where she got her BA, having Nikolaos M. Kontoleon as her main teacher. She continued her studies at Oxford University and obtained her PhD under the supervision of Sir John Boardman. She became Professor of Early Iron Age Archaeology at the University of Athens, where she taught for many years. She has been short-term Visiting Professor at a number of Australian and American Universities and at the Université Libre de Bruxelles. She has given lectures in several European Universities. She is now Professor Emerita and director of the excavations of the University of Athens at Xobourgo on Tenos. She is the author of over 95 articles and over 30 review articles in established archaeological journals. Her books include: Tο Nό τιο Nεκροταφεί ο της Nά ξου κατά τη Γεωμετρική περί οδο, Athens 1999; CVA Greece 8, Athens, National Museum 5. Attic and Atticizing amphorae of the Protogemetric and Geometric Periods, Athens 2002; Limestone Statuettes of Cypriote type found in the Aegean. Provenance Studies (with V. Karageorghis),

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Nicosia 2002; Terracotta Statues and Figurines of Cypriote Type found in the Aegean. Provenance Studies (in collaboration with V. and J. Karageorghis, B. Κιλίκογλου, Π. Μαραντίδου, Μ. Glascock), Nicosia 2009; Η Αρχαί α Τή νος, (with Roland Etienne and E. Simantoni-Bournia), Τenos 2013. Irad Malkin ([email protected]) is Professor of Greek History and the Cummings Chair for Mediterranean History and Cultures at Tel Aviv University, formerly the Chair of the Department of History. He is co-Founder (1986) and co-Editor of the Mediterranean Historical Review. His research interests include ancient colonization, religion, myth, ethnicity, and network theory. He is the Laureate of the Israel Prize for History, 2014. Ηis major publications include: Religion and Colonization in Ancient Greece (Brill: Leiden, 1987); Myth and Territory in the Spartan Mediterranean (Cambridge UP: Cambridge, 1994; Paperback edition, Cambridge UP, 2003, French translation 1999); The Returns of Odysseus: Colonization and Ethnicity (University of California Press, 1998; Italian translation 2004; Hebrew translation 2004); Ethnicity and Identity in Ancient Greece (in Hebrew, Tel Aviv 2003); (ed.), Ancient perceptions of Greek ethnicity (Center for Hellenic Studies and Harvard University Press, Washington, DC, 2001); (ed.), Mediterranean Paradigms and Classical Antiquity (London: Routledge, 2005 = Special issue of the Mediterranean Historical Review 18, 2003); and A Small Greek World: Networks in the Ancient Mediterranean (Oxford University Press: Oxford and New York 2011). Julián Méndez Dosuna (PhD 1983) ([email protected]) is Professor of Greek Linguistics at the University of Salamanca. He has published a substantial number of articles on different issues of Greek linguistics. His current research concerns the study of the ancient dialects, especially those of the oracular lamellae of Dodona, and double entendres in Aristophanes. He is editor of the journal Minos. Noémi Müller ([email protected]) is Scientific Research Officer at the Fitch Laboratory for science-based archaeology of the British School at Athens, responsible for chemical analyses and their implementation in the laboratory’s projects. She has collaborated in a range of integrated projects, her research examining production and circulation, but also material properties and use of archaeological ceramics from the Aegean and beyond. Recent publications span from integrated case studies e.g. “Home-made recipes: Tradition and Innovation in Bronze Age cooking pots from Akrotiri, Thera” with V. Kilikoglou and P. Day in Ceramics Cuisine and Culture, the Archaeology and Science of Kitchen Pottery in the Ancient Mediterranean World (Oxbow Books 2015), to basic research, e.g. summarized in “Mechanical and thermal properties” to be published in The Oxford Handbook of Ceramic Analysis (in press). Niki Oikonomaki ([email protected]) is Research Fellow at the Centre for the Greek Language, Division of Linguistics (Thessaloniki). She is co-author (with Y.Z. Tzifopoulos) of an introductory book on Greek Epigraphy (Εισαγωγή στην ελληνική επιγραφική . Από τον 8ο αιώνα π.Χ. ως την ύ στερη αρχαιό τητα), and contributor to Wiley Blackwell Encyclopedia of Ancient History. She has written articles in the field of epigraphy and ancient literacy, and her current work is on a monograph on local alphabets in Archaic and Classical Crete and on the publication of the inscriptions of North Pieria, Macedonia. Anna Panayotou-Triantaphyllopoulou ([email protected]) is Professor of Linguistics in the University of Cyprus. Her research interests include ancient Greek dialectology and re-

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lated scripts, koiné Greek, epigraphy, onomastics and language contact during ancient and medieval period, especially in Macedonia and Cyprus. John K. Papadopoulos ([email protected]) is Professor of Archaeology and Classics at the University of California at Los Angeles. His research and teaching interests include the Aegean, as well as the eastern and central Mediterranean in the Late Bronze and Early Iron Age into the Classical and later periods, Greek colonization, the topography of Athens, and the integration of literary evidence with the material record in the study of the past. He has excavated or conducted fieldwork widely in Greece, Italy, Albania, and Australia. He is the author or editor of 12 books, over 90 articles, and some 40 book reviews. Alexandra Pappas ([email protected]) is Raoul Bertrand Chair in Classics at San Francisco State University. She publishes broadly on the Greek symposium and the aesthetics of Greek writing, including pieces on Archilochus, inscriptions in Greek vase painting and rock-cut inscriptions, the representation of letters and words on the classical Athenian stage, and the Hellenistic pattern poems called technopaignia. Maria Roumpou ([email protected]) is Research Associate at the Harokopio University of Athens, Dept. of Dietetics & Nutritional Science & at the Fitch Laboratory, British School at Athens. Her research allies natural and physical sciences to archaeology. She has worked for a range of projects studying archaeological ceramic materials from a range of sites in the Aegean and the Eastern Mediterranean. Recent publications include “An interdisciplinary approach to the study of cooking vessels from Bronze Age Akrotiri, Thera”, with N.S. Müller, N. Kalogeropoulos, P. Day, V. Kilikoglou and I. Nikolakopoulou in Subsistence, Economy and Society in the Greek World. Improving the Integration of Archaeology and Science (Peeters, 2013); and “Food Storage Technologies and the Politics of Storage Practices: Examples from Prehistoric Northern Greece” with D. Margomenou, in Tracing Social Networks through Studying Technologies: A Diachronical Perspective from the Aegean (Routledge, 2011). Christina Skelton ([email protected]) received her Ph.D. in Indo-European Studies from UCLA in 2014 and is currently a Junior Fellow in the Harvard Society of Fellows. Her research interests include the historical linguistics of Greek and Indo-European, the Aegean Bronze Age, and computational historical linguistics. Yannis Z. Tzifopoulos ([email protected]) is Professor of Greek and Epigraphy at the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki. He has published Paradise Earned (Center for Hellenic Studies and Harvard University Press, Washington, DC, 2010), articles on inscriptions of the Rethymno Prefecture, and co-authored (with Matthaios Bessios and Antonis Kotsonas) Methone Pierias I. Samuel Verdan ([email protected]) is a member of the Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece, and an associate researcher at the Institute of Archaeology in the University of Lausanne. His research encompasses different aspects of the Early Iron Age and Early Archaic Greek world. He has published two monographs, one on Euboean Geometric pottery, and the other on the Geometric phases of the Sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros in Eretria. Marek Węcowski ([email protected]), educated at the University of Warsaw and at the École des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales in Paris, teaches ancient history and classical

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culture at the Department of Ancient History, University of Warsaw. His recent publications include The Rise of the Greek ARistocratic Banquet (Oxford University Press, 2014), commented editions of several authors for the Brill’s New Jacoby online project (BNJ 6, 9, 263), and articles on archaic and classical Greek history, historiography, and archaic Greek poetry. He is currently working on a monograph on the origins of the Athenian ostracism. Roger D. Woodard ([email protected]) is the Andrew v. V. Raymond Professor of the Classics and Chair of the Department of Classics at the University of Buffalo (The State University of New York). His most recent books are The Textualization of the Greek Alphabet (Cambridge, 2014) and Myth, Ritual and the Warrior in Roman and Indo-European Antiquity (Cambridge, 2013). Current projects include a monograph on the spread of knowledge, especially religious knowledge, and dialect from Anatolia to Hellas in the Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age, and a volume on Ancient Greek in the Cambridge series Linguistic Introductions.

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General Index General Index General Index

abecedarium/abecedaria: 4–5, 141 n. 48, 143, 150, 155–6, 172 nn. 26–27, 173 n. 30, 175 – Etruscan: 240 – early Eretrian: 240 – Marsiliana d’Albegna: 240 nn. 28, 30 Achaeans: 90, 99, 159–160, 199 Achilles: 92–3, 95, 199, 212, 217 Acrai: 180 Adrastus: 215 Aegean: 20, 21–7, 29–31, 33–7, 39, 54–6, 58–9, 89, 92, 96–7, 99–104 Aegina/Aeginetan: 41, 42, 191, 216,249 Aegyptus: 213 Aeneas: 199 Aeolic: 205–6 Aeolis – dialect of: 139 – script of: 137–9, 153–5, 161 aesthetics: 285–8, 291–2, 294–5, 301, 307–8 Aetos: 49–51, 67 Agamemnon: 213–4 Agora (Athens): 36, 63, 68–75 Agyrion: 180 Aiane, archaic inscriptions from: 240–1 Ajax: 92–3 – son of Oïleus: 200 – son of Telamon: 198–200, 202, 207, 211–3, 215, 217–8 akos (ἄκος): 220, 238 à la brosse: see amphora Al Mina: 98, 100, 147 Alcinous: 163 Alcmena: 213 allogeneous element: 166 allogeneous presence: 175–6 alpha, letter: 182–4, 186–7, – curved at right: 137 – sideways: 144 alphabet: 265 n. 15, 266, 268, 272, 274, 278- 82, 284 – common: 167, 170 – date created: 145–6 – foreign: 173 – origin of: 136–60

– red: 177–8 n. 40 – transmission date to the Etruscans: 240 alphabet/alphabetic: 20–3, 36–9, 65, 78, 83–7, 89–92, 96–8, 100–1, 103–4, 261–5, 268, 270–1 n. 30, 272–5, 277–8, 280–4 alphabetic writing: 20–3; see also practice of writing, syllabic writing Amorgos: 185, 190 amphora/-ae: 9–18, 124–8, 287, 290, 294, 295–301, 305–8 – à la brosse: 127 – Attic SOS: 9, 11, 15–6 – Chian: 9, 11–3 – Corinthian: 9, 11 – Cycladic: 9 – Euboean SOS: 9, 11, 16 – Lesbian: 9, 11, 13–5 – Milesian: 9, 11 – Phoenician: 4, 10, 11 – Samian: 9, 11 – SOS: 126 – Thermaic (Catling’s type II / North Aegean): 9, 16–8 amystis: 320 n. 34 Anaphe: 185 animal fat: 12–3 anisōma: 320 Antekydes (Ἀντεqύδης): 234, 238, 247–8 – amphora of: 137–9 Antigone: 214–5 aoidos: 94 aphakeisthai (ἀφακεῖσθαι): 220–1, 226, 238 Apollo: 49, 99, 103 – Daphnephoros: 23, 194–5; see also Eretria – Kerykeios: 188 aprosdōkēton (literary surpise): 315–6 n. 19 Arabia: 32 Aramaic: 24, 37, 97–8, 100, 208–9, 211 – script: 141–2, 160 Arcadia, script of: 156 Archias: 3 Argos/Argive: 31, 47, 88, 205 Arimoi: 163 Arisbe on Lesbos: 14

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aristocracy/aristocrats: 4–5, 90–1, 265, 267, 280, 281–2, 312–4, 321–7 Artemis Orthia: 188 Asia Minor: 26–7, 29 aspirate: 127 n. 13, 145, see also psilosis aspiration initial: 221–2 Assyria/Assyrian: 29, 100, 198–9, 204, 207, 209–11 Astypalaia: 126 Atalante: 93 Athena Chalkioikos: 189 Athens/Athenian: 28, 31–2, 40–1, 47, 60, 63–4, 68, 75, 81, 83, 90–1, 174 n. 32, 176 n. 37, 189 Atlantic coast: 29 Attic/Attica: 9–11, 15–6, 23–6, 28–33, 183, 186, 193, 203–6, 210 – dialect: 162 – script of: 138–9, 141, 145, 155, 158 atticizing: 23, 30 ‘ayin, letter: 142 Aulis: 99, 163 Ba‘al KRNTRYS: 146 n. 89 Ba‘al of Lebanon: 147 Babylonia: 211, 216 Bassit in Syria: 17 beeswax: 16, 18 beta, letter: 140 Bocchoris: 148 Boeotia/Boeotian: 27, 42–3, 59, 64–5, 99, 101, 183, 185, 188–90, 192, 195 – Mycenaean world 161 – sigma pleonastic: 253–4 – script of: 137–8, 143, 155, 158 boustrophedon: 152–3, 161 bullion balance weights: 25, 27, 35 Cadmus: 151, 154 Caere: 174 Cambridge Painter: 174 n. 32 Cambyses: 215 Canaanite jars: 10 Carian: 24 Carthage: 10, 30 – foundation of: 148 Celtic: 225–6, 230–1

Centuripae: 180 Cerveteri: 94, 127 Chalcidian/Chalcidians: 3, 166 n. 3, 167 n. 4 and n. 7 – colony: 167 n. 7 – vases: 172–3, 175 – -Euboean standard: 167 Chalcidice: 3, 34, 53, 59, 102 Chalcis: 2–3, 31, 167 n. 7, 176 n. 37, 210 – and Hesiod: 163 – colonies of: 136 – script of: 153, 160, 162 chi, letter: 144, 150, 155–8, 160 Chios: 9, 11–3 Chrysothemis: 215 Cilicia(n): 98, 100–1 – scripts of: 153 city-state: 22, 24, 31, 35 Clytemnestra: 213 coin legend: 167 n. 10, 178 n. 45, 180 n. 53 colonial – Euboean features: 166 – settlements: 165, 181 colonization, Archaic Greek: 3 colony: 20, 26, 28, 30, 34–5 – and mother-city related through alphabet and dialect: 233 Corcyra: 1–2, 201 Corinth/Corinthia(n): 1–3, 9–11, 25–7, 31, 45–7, 52, 57, 59, 79–81, 89, 98, 173–4 n. 32, 176; 187, 190, 201 – alphabet: 173, 175 – alphabet in Potidaea: 233 n. 4 – dialect: 175 – gulf: 27, 31 – painter: 181 – potter: 172 n. 24, 181 – presence: 172 – script of: 140–1, 153, 155, 158–9, 160–1, 173 craftsmen: 22, 29, 32 Creon: 214–5 Crete/Cretans: 3, 27, 29, 31, 65, 80, 82, 97–9, 101, 103, 205, 211 – dialect of: 140 – script of: 140–1, 143–5, 160, 164 Croesus: 215

General Index | 367

Cup(s): 287–9, 291–6, 301–3, 307–8 – of Euthymos: 137 – of Hakesandros: 5, 136–7, 160–1, 314, 317–8, 326 n. 47 – of Nestor: 5, 136, 139, 153 n. 135, 160–1, 184, 186, 212, 265–7, 270, 272, 281, 283, 313, 316–7, 324, 326 n. 47 – of Philion: 137–9, 267–8, 272–3, 276–7, 281, 317 n. 24 – of Tataie: 265–7, 270, 318–9, 321 n. 37 Cyclades/Cycladic: 27, 31, 66 Cycladic Naxian/Naxians: 166, 171 n. 22 – alphabet: 167–8, 170–1 – dialect: 170–1 – element: 166–7, 170–1 – influence: 170 – settlers: 181 Cycladic Naxos: 167 n. 5, 172, 176 Cyme – Euboean: 154, 167 n. 7 – Italian: 113–4, 116, 154, 167 n. 7, 172–3 n. 24, 175, 185, 188–90, 194, 197, 217 – Late Geometric inscriptions and marks on vases: 233, 240 Cyprus/Cypriot: 20, 27, 31, 89, 98, 101, 140, 147, 155 n. 149, 160 – imports: 27 – pottery: 29 – syllabary: 127 Cyrene’s foundation: 3 Danaids: 213 Delos: 162, 186 Delphi: 3, 102, 189, 193, 217 Delphic Oracle: 3 delta, letter: 128, 182, 184, 186–7 – rounded: 136–7 Demaratus: 215 dendrochronology: 148 dictation: 162 Didyma: 143–4 n. 71 Diomedes: 93 Dionysos: 93 dipinto: 125–6 – Eretria: 125

Dipylon: 265, 267, 270, 281, 283 – oinochoe/jug/vase: 141, 144–5, 153, 158, 160, 183, 189, 192–3 divider, upright 141–2, 160 Do(u)ris: 95–6 Dodecanese: 103 Dodona: 180, 214, 217 Dorians/Doric: 4, 177, 179, 210, 250 n. 38 dots as punctuation: 141–2, 151, 160; see also punctuation drinking games: 313, 320, 326 n. 46 East Greek: 51, 52, 66, 79, 83; see also Near East egraphsen: 92–3 Egypt/Egyptian: 37, 88, 206, 208 El Carambolo: 30 Elean: 204–5 Electra: 214–5 elemental analysis: 9–18 elite: 4–5, 37, 96, 312, 320–7, Emborio on Chios: 12 Enna: 178 Enyó: 167–8 n. 5, 170–1 ephakeisthai (ἐφακεῖσθαι): see aphakeisthai Ephesus: 189, 216 Epidamnos: 3 epidexia (endexia): 313–4, 322–3, 326 n. 46 Epirus: 52–3 epoiesen: 93 epsilon, letter: 144 n. 74, 182, 187–95 Eretria/Eretrian: 1–3, 16, 20, 23–4, 27, 31, 36–7, 39, 77, 83–6, 97–8, 104, 108, 114–5, 176 n. 37, 190–1, 194–5, 197, 201, 216; see also abecedarium – colonies of: 1, 136 – dialect: 246, 258 – /Euboean alphabet: 1 – inscriptions from the sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros in: 238 n. 18 – Late Geometric inscriptions and marks on vases from: 233, 240 – place of Euboean alphabet’s development and spread to Boeotia: 240 – script of: 136–41, 143, 151, 155, 158, 160, 162, 245, 249–50, 254–6, 258 – temple of Apollo in: 146–7, 158

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Ergotimos: 93–4 eta, letter: 140, 190, 194–7 Eteocles: 200 Eteocretan script: 145 n. 82, 153 n. 134 Etruria/Etruscan(s): 92–4, 100, 109 n. 17, 117–8 n. 70, 187, 194–5, 197, 200 – script of: 142–3, 150, 155, 158, 160 – on Lemnos: 142 n. 54, 153–4 Euboea/Euboea(n): 3–5, 9–11, 16, 20, 22–3, 25–34, 43–4, 56–7, 65, 84–5, 87, 98–101, 103, 127, 176, 182–3, 187–8, 190, 194–8, 201, 211–2, 214 – alphabet of: 167, 169–70, 173–4, 177 – alphabet early: 239, 240 – and Homer: 162–3 – colony of: 165–6, 170, 172–7, 179, 181 – dialect of: 137 n. 13, 139, 162, 171 n. 17, 175–6, n. 38 – fronting /u(:)/>/y(:)/: 238 n. 19 – genitive singular of a-stems in: 241 – gulf: 32, 33 – koine: 28 – /Naxian alphabet: 170 – script of: 140, 141, 147, 150, 157–8, 160, 164, 239: see also Chalcis, Eretria – sigma pleonastic: 254–6 Euboeanizing pottery: 28, 34 Eurysaces: 215 Eurystheus: 213 Eurytus: 214 Euthymos, see cup of Evenius of Apollonia: 216–7 Ferla: 180 Fidenae: 148 Filigree: 29 foreigners: 165–6, 172, 181 Francavilla Maritima: 148 François vase: 93–4 Gabii: 4, 22 – script of: 143, 148–51, 155, 160 Gallikos River: 32 gamma, letter: 127–8, 182, 185–6 gem: 125 Geometric period, chronology of: 147–8, 160 gift exchange: 25

gold: 29, 32, 35 Gordias: 152 Gordion: 151–2, 160 Gorgus: 215–6 Graea: 163 graffito/i: 5, 10, 14, 16, 20–4, 97, 105, 108–9, 112, 124–7, 144, 146–7, 168–9, 181, 182–4, 186–90, 193, 195, 204–5, 211–2, 217, 233, 236, 239, 242–7, 249, 252–3, 257–8, 267, 280–1, 288–90, 294, 305, 315, 319 grammata/γράμματα: 90, 99, 103 granulation: 29 graphic phenomenon: 171 graphō/graphein (γράφω/γράφειν): 38, 92; see also egraphsen Greek-Semitic connectivity: 4 Grotta on Naxos: 23; see also Naxos Hakesandros: 238, 263, 265–8, 270, 272–3, 276–7, 281, 283; see also cup of Hazael of Damascus: 146 Hebrew: 209–11 Hecuba: 213–4 Hektor: 90 Hephaistos: 93 Heracles: 214 Hermes: 93 hetaira: 318–9 with n. 28 hexameter: 160 Himera: 4, 176–9 n. 50, 180–1 n. 59 Histria: 127 Hittite: 202 Horos inscription: 170–1 n. 19 Huelva: 29, 30 Hyksos: 208 Hyllus: 213 hypsilon, letter: 143–4, 149, 160 iambic trimeter: 160 immigrant: 174, 176 Indo-European: 102 inscriber: 261–3, 265, 267–73, 275–8, 281–3 inscription – alphabetic: 286–8, 292, 294, 305, 307–8 – content: 286–9, 291–2, 294–8, 300, 303, 305, 307–8

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– eidography: 292, 295 – form: 286–8, 291–2, 294–8, 303, 305, 307–8 – function: 286–9, 291–2, 294–8, 301, 303, 305, 307–8 – non-alphabetic: 286–8, 292–5, 297, 301, 303–5, 307–8 – owner’s signature: 287–8, 291–2, 294, 296–8, 300–1, 303, 308 Inscription Painter: 173–5 n. 32 Intaphrenes: 216 Iole: 214 Ionia/Ionians: 3, 188–90, 196, 198, 215–6 – black painted: 125 ionic: 182, 185–6, 189, 194, 198, 203, 205 iota, letter – crooked: 141–2, 149, 153–4, 156–7 – straight/upright: 141–2, 149, 156, 160 Iris: 93 Iron Age chronology: 147–8, 151, 160 Ischia, Bay of Naples, see Pithekoussai Ismene: 214 Israel: 10, 141–2, 148 Isthmia: 45–7 Italy (central): 20, 30 – script of: 144–5, 150–1 Ithake(sian): 49–52, 67, 89 ‘Izbet Ṣarṭah: 141–2 Kabeiroi: 102 n. 104 Kale Akte: 3 Kamarina: 127 Kameiros: 51–2 Kaminia stele: 153–4 Karatepe: 185 – inscription of: 146 n. 89 Karneia: 3 Kastanas: 53, 55–6 Kerameikos (Athens): 36, 40–1, 60–3, 71, 75, 81–2, 89, 91 kerameus: 94 Klazomenai/Klazomenian: 79 Kleitias: 93–4 Knossos: 31, 89, 137 n. 10, 140, 142, 146, 206 n. 117 Kommos: 39, 59, 65–6, 77, 79, 80–3, 97, 124, 127

Kos: 103 kōthōnismos: 313 n. 15 Koukos: 28 Kritias of Athens: 90, 313 xifos (ξίφος, τό): 201, 205, 207–10, 213 Lacco Ameno sherd: 183 Laconia: 47–8, 79, 188–9, 193 – sigma pleonastic: 253 lambda, letter – inverted: 138, 145, 153 – upright: 137, 140, 153 language/linguistic – contact: 165, 181 – variation: 165 Lapis niger: 151, 157 Latial IIB2, date of: 149 Latin script: 141 n. 51, 143, 149, 157–8, 160, 164 Latium: 4, 22 Lavrion: 29, 31–2 Lefkandi: 25, 27, 29, 31, 39, 43–4, 47, 83, 98, 114 – script of: 138, 146 n. 90, 151 Lelantine war: 2, 163 Lemnos, script of: 141–3 n. 54, 153–5 lenition: 179–80 n. 53 Leontini, sigma pleonastic: 257 Lesbos/Lesbian: 1, 9, 11, 13–5, 58, 79, 124, 128, 136–7 letter names: 142 Leutychides: 215 Levant: 29, 31, 34 Levantine coast: 26, 31 Linear B: 207–9 literacy: 4, 20, 22, 24 – event: 261–6, 268–9, 273–5, 277–8, 281–4 – in Eretrian settlements: 237, 240 Locris/Locrians: 200 – script of: 4–5, 154 Macedonia/Macedonian: 21, 25–8, 32, 34–5, 53, 55, 102–4, 124, 135, 240, 283, 310–1 Magi: 216 Malaga: 4, 29–30, 125 Mantiklos statuette: 183–4, 186, 192, 195 Mantinea, script of: 155–6

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Marsiliana d’Albegna: 186, 188, 190–1, 195, 240 nn. 28, 30; see also abecedarium Mediterranean: 4, 10–1, 13, 20–1, 22, 27, 29–31, 98, 104, 106, 115, 123–5, 127, 135, 148, 211, 282 Megara/Megarian: 3, 90 – Megara Hyblaea: 16 – in Sicily: 167 n. 4 Meleager: 93 Melos, script of: 140, 160 Menaion: 180 Mende: 28 Menelaus: 200 merchant: 22, 35; see also trade, trader Messapia, script of: 155, 157–8 metals: 4, 324 Metapontion, script of: 156–7 n. 159 Methone: 20-2, 24-6, 28, 30, 32–3, 36–39, 56–8, 77–81, 83, 89, 96–98, 103–4, 106–9, 112–5, 119, 182–4, 186–8, 190–4, 198, 201, 211, 217, 261, 263–4, 266–8, 271–3, 275, 278–84 – aspiration in the dialect of: 241 – dialect of: 241, 243, 246–8, 258 – lack of vowel compensatory lengthening in the dialect of: 241 – letter forms in the early inscriptions from: 238–9 – uncontracted genitive masculine in -eos in the dialect of: 241 – script of: 136, 139, 143, 157, 160, 162, 238–9, 245, 250, 258 Methymna, Lesbos: 14 Metropolis: 165, 167 n. 7 Midas: 100, 102, 152, 154 Middle Geometric inscriptions: 146, 160 Miletos/Milesian: 79, 81, 89 Minoan frescoes: 163 mixed character (population): 165–6, 181 monkeys: 163 mother city/mother-town: 165–6, 175–6 n. 33, 181; see also colony motherland: 167 nn. 6, 7 Mt. Hymettos: 183, 187 mu, letter – Chalcidian: 150, 153 – Eretrian: 136, 138, 150, 153

Mycenae: 200, 213 Mycenaean Greek: 203, 206–8, 222–4 names, meaning of: 289, 291, 296 Narce: 187, 195, 196 Naxos/Naxian: 3, 22–23, 196; see also Cycladic/Sicilian Naxos, Grotta, and Nicandra statue Neanthes: 142 n. 54 Near East/Easterners: 4–5, 21, 32; see also East Greek Neo-Grammarians: 203, 205 Nestor: 90, see also cup of networks: 4, 20, 24–7, 29–35 Nicandra statue: 192, 194, 196; see also Naxos/Naxian Nile Delta: 101 Nimrud: 198, 199 nomima: 3–4 non-colonial features: 165–6, 181 non-Euboean settlements: 166 non-Greek settlements: 165, 181 Nora Stone: 185, 187 numerals: 126 numerical notations: 4 – Etruscan(-Latin): 110–2, 115–8 n. 69 – Greek acrophonic: 107, 109–10, 115–6 – Greek alphabetic: 107, 109–10, 118 Nuragic pottery: 29–30 Odysseus: 103, 211–2 Oedipus: 214 Old Persian: 202, 204 olive oil: 12, 14, 17 Olynthus: 110 omega, letter: 143, 163–4 omicron, letter – dotted: 142–3, 153–4, 158, 160, 164 – small: 138, 151 Onesilus: 216 Orestes: 213 organic residue analysis: 9–18 Orontes River: 100–1 Ošanića: 124 Osteria dell’Osa: 22, 148–9, 189–90 ostracon: 22–3, 158

General Index | 371

Palamedes: 103, 151 Pangaion: 32 Panhellenes: 2, 140, 243–4 papyrus: 160, 162 Paros: 1 Peleus: 93 Peloponnese/Peloponnesians: 3, 31, 47–8 pendent semicircle skyphoi: 27, 29–31 Perachora: 45–7, 49, 52 Persia: 213, 215–7 petrographic analysis: 9–18 phi, letter: 139, 144 n. 72, 145 n. 82, 158, 160 Philion: 234; see also cup of Philistine language: 141 n. 48 philotēsia kylix: 314, 320 n. 33 Phocis/Phocians: 154, 216 Phoenicia/Phoenician(s): 10–1, 20, 25–6, 29–30, 32–3, 36–8, 96–102, 104, 183, 185, 187, 190, 193–4, 208–10 – script of: 136, 141–6, 152 Phrygia/Phrygian(s): 36, 38, 98, 100–4, 215 – script of: 139, 141, 151–2, 154–5 pi, letter, rounded: 145 Pisiris (of Charchemish): 100 Pithekoussai: 2, 4, 5, 16–7, 36–7, 39, 80, 86–7, 91, 97–8, 108 n. 11, 112–6, 124–5, 128, 184, 186, 188–91, 212, 272 n. 32, 282–283 – foundation of: 2, 148, 150 – Late Geometric inscriptions and marks on vases of: 233, 239–40 – name of: 163 – script of: 136, 143–5 n. 88, 157, 160 poetry in alphabetic script: 160 Policoro: 127 Polycrates: 215 Polynices: 200 polyposia: 313 n. 15 Polyxena: 213 Poseidi: 28 Poseidon: 28 pot marks: 20 Potnia Theron: 93 practice of writing: 171; see also alphabetic writing, syllabic writing

Praenestine fibula: 141 n. 51 Priam: 93, 103 proper name: 175 n. 34, 176 n. 38, 177–8 Proto-Canaanite script: 141–2, 146 Protocorinthian pottery: 148 psilosis: 137 punctuation: 141–2, 270–2, 279, 271 n. 30; see also dots as punctuation Pythagoras: 142 qoppa, letter: 144–5 n. 82 – before hypsilon: 238 n. 19 radiocarbon dating: 148, 152 reader: 261–3, 269–74, 276, 278, 282 retrograde script: 153, 160–1 Rhadamanthys: 163 n. 190 rhapsoidos: 94 Rhegium: 170 n. 17, 171 n. 20, 175 n. 34, 176 n. 37 rho, name of: 142 Rhodes: 51–2, 99, 103, 184, 189, 196–7 – sigma pleonastic: 251–2 – script of: 154–5, 161 rhotacism: 175–6 n. 37, 181 Rio Tinto River: 29 Romulus: 149–50 Sabine script: 138–41, 158 sade, letter: 145, 150, 152, 155–8 sakos (σάκος, τό): 199–200, 202, 207, 212 Salamis (Cypriot): 215 samek, letter: 140–1, 156 Samos/Samian: 1, 3, 9, 11, 58, 78, 80, 101, 125, 185–6, 189, 191 – script of: 143, 146, 155, 164 sampi, letter: 152 n. 126 san, letter: 140, 145, 150, 153, 155–7 sanctuary: 23, 28, 35 Sanskrit: 202 Sardinia: 30, 185 Sargon II: 199 sch (ΣΧ for ΧΣ (= ΞΣ)): 236, 239, 258 Schøyen tablets: 144 n. 74, 155 n. 147, 156, 196 Segesta/Egesta: 179, 180 n. 53 sȇmata/σήματα: 90–92

372 | General Index

Semitic: 38, 97–8, 100, 101, 104; see also West Semitic script, Greek-Semitic connectivity Serge(n)tion/Ergetion: 180 Shalmaneser III: 198, 207 ship-building: 4 sibilants: 146, 150, 155–7 Sicily: 3 Sicilian Naxos/Naxians: 166 n. 3, 167 n. 4, 168, 169–70 n. 15, 171 n. 22, 181 Sicinus, script of: 157 sigma, letter: 182, 193–4, 196, 202; see also xi, letter – four-barred: 141, 153–5, 157 – many-barred: 138–9, 141, 152–3, 157, 160 – three-barred: 141, 153, 155–7 – pleonastic: 249–258 – pleonastic in Thessaly: 253 Sikyon: 103 silver: 29, 31 Sindos: 127 Sipana/Ipana: 180 Siphnos: 32 Skamander River: 95 skōmma: 315, 318 Smyrna: 126, 190, 193 Spain: 10, 29, 30 Sparta: 189, 215–6 sphragizō (σφραγίζω): 90 sporadic sound change: 182, 204–7, 211 Stageira: 102 stirrup jars: 10 supplemental letters: 144–5, 150–1, 154, 158, 160 syllabic writing: 141 n. 51; see also alphabetic writing, practice of writing symposion: 5, 137, 160, 289, 291, 296–9, 303, 313, 323–5 Syracuse: 2–3, 30, 136, 166 n. 3 Syria (North)-Palestine: 98, 100–1, 198, 200, 208, 210–1

tau, letter: 144 Tecmessa: 215 Tegea: 48 Tekke bowl: 142, 146 Telesikles: 1 Tell Fakhariyah: 141–2 Tell Halaf: 200 Teucer: 198, 207, 213 text: 261–77, 280, 282–4 Thasos: 1, 32–3, 66, 77, 102 – colonization: 243–4 – dialect: 244 Thebes/Theban: 99, 183, 188, 190, 202, 206 Thebes, Egyptian: 161 Theo (⊕Ε⊙): 234, 238 Thera/Therans: 3, 5, 126, 185, 197 – dialect of: 140 – script of: 140, 143 n. 61, 160 Thermaic Gulf: 1-2, 4, 9, 11, 16–8, 20, 26, 31–2, 34, 37, 56–8, 80, 89, 102–3 Theseus: 93, 213 Thessaly: 216, see also sigma, letter Thetis: 93 Tiglath-pileser III: 198 timber: 4 toponym: 168 n. 12, 178–80 n. 53, 222 Torone: 28, 32, 53, 59, 83, 102 Toumba,Thessaloniki: 53–4 trade, port/route: 4, 9–10, 16, 18, 24–7, 30–31, 33–5, 107, 119, 128, 232, 240, 242, 263, 276, 282, 322, 324; see also merchant trader: 22, 27, 98, 116–7, 240 n. 28, 264–5, 267, 275, 280; see also merchant transport: 20, 25–6 Troilos: 93 Troy/Trojan: 103

tally/tallies/tallying: 107–9, 112–3, 118 Tanagra stele: 195 Tartessos: 30 Tataie: see cup of

waw, letter: 143–4, 147, 153 West Semitic script: 136, 139–40, 142, 146 wine: 12, 14–7, 212, 296–7, 309, 311, 313–4, 318, 321–3

Villadoro: 178 Vitsa Zagoriou: 51–3 Vulci: 174

General Index | 373

word-divider: see divider writing-tablet: 160 xi, letter: 140–1, 156–7, 159, 160 – fossilized form of (⊞): 240 – pleonastic use of ‘red’ xi plus sigma: 239

yod, letter: 141, 153 “Ypogeio” (Methone): 9–13, 15–6, 36, 56, 77, 96, 105, 107–8, 112, 125, 233, 242, 263–4, 281 Zancle/Messene: 3, 179 n. 51 zeta, letter: 140–1, 154 Zopyrus: 216

374 | Index Locorum

Index Locorum Index Locorum Index Locorum

Aeschylus – Agamemnon 1530–1: 213 – Eumenides 755: 213 – Persians 579–80: 213 – Prometheus vinctus 862–3: 213 Alexis – fr. 59 Kassel–Austin: 313 n. 15 – fr. 116 Kassel–Austin: 313 n. 15 – fr. 147 Kassel–Austin: 318 – fr. 293 Kassel–Austin: 313 n. 15 Ameipsias, fr. 21 Kassel–Austin: 320 n. 32 Anacreon, fr. 82 Page (PMG 427): 320 n. 31 Apollodoros: 103 Apollonius of Rhodes: 102 Archilochus: 140 n. 37 – fr. 3 West: 200 – fr. 13 West: 318 – fr. 102 West: 1, 140 n. 37, 243–4, 246 – fr. 124b West: 318 Aristophanes – Acharnians 983: 313 n. 15 – Lysistrata 203: 313 n. 15 – fr. 206: 207 Aristotle: 103 – Historia animalium 597b: 206 Aristoxenus: 142 n. 54 Arrian ffr. 1,35; 1,36; 24,230r,10; 24,230r,16; 24,230r17; 24,230r,20; 24,230v,12; 25,235r,4; 25,235r,6; 25,235r,9: 204 Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae – II 65e: 206 – X 432d: 320 n. 33 – X 442b6f–448b: 320 n. 31 – X 486e–487b: 320 n. 30 – X 502b: 320 n. 33 – XI 783b: 320 n. 32 – XV 690e and 691c: 207 Bacchylides, Odes 13.104: 202 Bartonĕk/Buchner 1995 – no. 20: 312 n. 8, 319 n. 28 – no. 22: 318 – nos. 28–30: 16 – no. 43: 323 n. 41 – B1 (LSAG 434 (B), pl. 73,4): 311 n. 7, 316

Bernand/Masson 1957, no. 2: 251–2 Boring 1979, 106 no. 76: 320 n. 34 Callimachus – Hymn to Zeus 71: 202 – fr. 192: 206 CEG – 47: 249 – 112: 253 – 200: 250 – 248: 250 – 324: 254–5 – 326: 254 – 331: 254 – 334: 253 – 391: 253 n. 57 – 410: 258 – 415: 244 – 453: 317 n. 23 – 454 (IGDGG I 2): 316 – 460: 251 – 465: 320 n. 34 Csapo/Johnston/Geagan 2000 – no. 3: 312 n. 11 – no. 103: 320 n. 34 Ctesias fr. 45: 206 Cypria: 103 Demosthenes, XIX [de falsa leg.], 128: 320 n. 33 Ephorus, FGrH 70 F 137: 167 n. 4 Epicharmus fr.42, 58: 205 Epilycus fr. 1: 207 Eubulus fr. 102: 207 Eupolis fr. 198: 207 Euripides – Alcestis 200, 227, 622: 214 – Andromache 981, 1212: 214 – Bacchae 1363: 214 – Electra 308, 736: 214–5 – Hecuba 338, 623: 213–14 – Helena 95, 840, 847, 875: 213–14 – Heraclidae 807: 213 – Hercules 1401: 214

Index Locorum | 375

– Hippolytus 838, 1460: 213–14 – Iphigenia Aulidensis 357, 889, 1203: 214 – Iphigenia Taurica 474, 1058: 214 – Medea 286, 1023, 1036: 214 – Orestes 587: 214 – Phoenissae 139, 988, 1206, 1263: 202, 214 – Supplices 793: 214 – fr. 454 (Cresphontes): 214 Harpocration, s.v. φιλοτησία (p. 301, 12 Dindorf): 320 n. 33 Hellanicus (FGrH 4 F 82): 3, 166–7 Herodian, Περὶ ὀρθογραφίας – 3.2.578: 207 – 3.2.582: 205 Herodotus: 36, 99, 101–3 – 1.35, 46: 215 – 1.192: 204 – 3.65, 78, 89, 124, 137, 157: 204, 215–7 – 4.159: 3 – 5.84–85, 99, 103–104: 216 – 6.71, 117: 215–6 – 7.3: 215 – 8.29, 142: 216 – 9.50, 93–94: 216 Hesiod: 140 n. 37, 161–3 – Shield 13: 202, 204, 206 Hesychius – Κ 4505: 204 – Σ 24: 207 – Σ 1033–4: 205 – Σ 1036: 205 – Σ 1052: 206 – Σ 1303: 204 – Σ 1315: 206 – Ψ 1: 207 – Ψ 241: 206 Homer: 90, 92, 99, 313 – date of: 161–4 – Iliad: 90, 91, 92, 99 – Iliad 2.542–4: 201 – Iliad 5.126: 202 – Iliad 6.168–9: 212 – Iliad 8.266–72: 198 – Iliad 13.599–600: 200 – Iliad 13.701–22: 200

– Iliad 16.102–11: 199; 200 – Iliad 20.285–91: 199 – Odyssey 13.262–3: 211 Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite: 161 n. 176 IG – I3 637: 250 – I3 743: 250 – I3 1399: 249 – I3 1418: 139 n. 33 – V.1, 823: 253 n. 54 – V.1, 832: 253 – V.1, 945: 320 n. 34 – V.2, 1: 248 – VII, 612: 143 n. 69 – VII, 2253: 254 – VII, 3435: 253 – IX.1, 649: 253 n. 57 – IX.12.3, 609.9: 252 n. 51 – IX.2, 1202: 253 – XII.5, 566.3: 258 – XII.5, 611: 258 – XII.5, 648: 258 – XII.8, 287: 244 – XII.9, 43: 254 – XII.9, 246.18: 248 n. 27 – XII.9, 245.333: 248 n. 27 – XII.9, 287: 255 n. 64 – XII, Suppl. 549A.12: 254–5 – XIV, 865: 217 n. 160 – XIV, 873: 194 n. 54 IGASMG I² 10: 314, 320–1 IGDGG II 31: 314 IGDOlbia 31: 315 IGDOlbia 38: 314 IGDOP 28a–b: 320 n. 34 IOropos 333: 254–5 IThesp. 654: 254 Kalapodi I, nos. 1, 2, 3: 321 n. 37 Kenzelmann Pfyffer/Theurillat/Verdan 2005, no. 1 (FK003823): 312–3, 327 n. 47 Kritias of Athens, fr. 6, 1–4 West: 90, 313 Lefkandi I, nos. 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 106–107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112: 321–2 n. 37

376 | Index Locorum

Lindos 710: 251 LSAG 347, pl. 67,1: 327 n. 50 LSAG 348, 356 no. 2: 318 with n. 26 LSAG 348, 356 no. 3a: 320 n. 35 LSAG 434 (B), pl. 73,4 (Bartoněk/Buchner 1995, B1): 316 Matro of Pitane, fr. 1 Olson–Sens: 319 n. 27 Methone Pierias I – no. 1: 243, 245, 314 – no. 2: 246–7, 317–8 – no. 3: 314 – no. 4: 247–8 – no. 7: 314 – no. 22: 249ff., 319–21 n. 29 Nahum 2.1–11: 210 Olen of Lycia: 149 n. 107 Pausanias – 3.7.10: 215 – 5.25.12: 102 – 8.21.3: 149 n. 107 Photius – Β 319, 1: 206 – Σ 495, 19: 129 – Ψ 655, 20: 206 Pindar – Nemean Odes 8.23–7: 211 Plato: 103 Pliny, HN 10.117: 206 Plutarch, Quaestiones Graecae 11 (293b): 1–2, 104 n. 113, 136, 201, 232–3, 242 Pollux, VI 30: 320 n. 33 Polybius, 13.3.4: 201 Polyaenus, 5.6: 180 Ptolemaeus, Geog. 3.4.7.13: 180 Scholia in Iliadem (scholia vetera) 1.220: 205 Scholia on Dionysius Thrax I.185.5 Hilgard: 151 – Scholia Londinensia 504: 205–6 – Scholia Vaticana 203: 205 n. 111 SEG – 19.614: 319 n. 28

– 22.404: 254 – 26.867: 252 – 29.889: 252–3 n. 53 – 31.838: 196 n. 64; 250 – 32.1586: 250 – 34.898: 256 – 35.1009: 315 – 35.1018: 319 n. 28 – 42.785: 244 – 47.1475 (= IGDGG I 12): 318 – 51.735: 247 – 52.566: 247 – 53.1008: 257 – 54.925: 257 Simonides: 151, 163 n. 195 Sophocles – Ajax 18–9, 340, 511, 574–5: 202, 215 – Antigone 13, 574, 890: 214–5 – Electra 960: 215 – Oedipus Coloneus 857, 1443: 214 – Oedipus Tyrannus 771: 214 – Trachiniae 177: 214 – fr. 863.1: 215 Stephanus Byzantius, s.v. – Ἴχανα: 178 n. 47 – Ἔγεστα: 179 n. 52 – ’Εργέτιον: 180 Strabo – 5.4.4: 167 n. 7 – 6.2.4: 3, 201 – 10.1.12–13: 201 Suda – Σ 632: 205 – Ψ 143: 206 Theognidea, 1.489: 320 n. 33 Theognis 1.19–24: 90 Theognostus – De orthographia 142: 206 Theopompus of Chios fr. 103: 204 Theopompus Comicus, fr. 33, 8–10 Kassel– Austin: 320 n. 33 Thucydides: 3–4 – 1.24.5: 217 – 1.26-27: 3 – 2.20.4: 217 – 2.62.3: 217

Index Locorum | 377

– 2.65.2: 217 – 3.2.3: 217 – 3.39.8: 217 – 4.20.2: 217 – 4.64.5: 217 – 4.73.3: 217 – 6.3.1: 166 – 6.4.5: 3

– 6.5.1: 3–4 – 6.40.1: 217 – 7.27.5: 217 – 7.71.3: 217 – 8.1.2: 217 Tit.Cam. 160: 251–2 Xenophon, Symposion II 23–27: 313 n. 15

378 | Index Locorum