AMERICAN JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY - …prophetess.lstc.edu/~rklein/Doc6/reading.pdfThe American Journal of Archaeology is published by the Archaeological ... from prehistoric to late

AMERICAN JOURNALOF ARCHAEOLOGY

THE JOURNAL OF THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICA

Volume 107 • No. 2 April 2003

MEMBERSHIP IN THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICAAND SUBSCRIPTION TO THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

The American Journal of Archaeology is published by the Archaeological Institute of America in January, April,July, and October. Membership in the AIA, including a subscription to AJA, is $112 per year (C$162.40).Student membership is $64 (C$92.80); proof of full-time status required. A brochure outlining membershipbenefits is available upon request from the Institute. An annual subscription to AJA is $75 (international,$95); the institutional subscription rate is $250 (international, $290). Institutions are not eligible forindividual membership rates. All communications regarding membership, subscriptions, and back issuesshould be addressed to the Archaeological Institute of America, located at Boston University, 656 BeaconStreet, Boston, Massachusetts 02215-2006, tel. 617-353-9361, fax 617-353-6550, email [email protected].

ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICA2003

OFFICERS

Jane C. Waldbaum, PresidentC. Brian Rose, First Vice President

Malcolm Bell, III, Vice President for Professional ResponsibilitiesSusan Kane, Vice President for Publications

Cameron Jean Walker, Vice President for SocietiesJeffrey A. Lamia, Treasurer

Lea Sterling, President, AIA Canada

HONORARY PRESIDENTS

Frederick R. Matson, Robert H. Dyson, Jr.,Machteld J. Mellink, James R. Wiseman,

Martha Sharp Joukowsky, James Russell, Stephen L. Dyson

GOVERNING BOARD

TRUSTEES EMERITI

PAST PRESIDENT

Jacqueline Rosenthal, Executive DirectorLeonard V. Quigley, of Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison, General Counsel

Elie AbemayorKaren AlexanderWendy AshmoreElizabeth BartmanAndrea BerlinMary Beth BuckJohn CampAlexandra CleworthSusan DowneyKevin GlowackiCharles S. La FolletteRichard LeventhalJodi MagnessAndrew M.T. MooreDorinda J. Oliver

Kathleen A. PavelkoAlice S. RiginosPaul RissmanJohn J. RocheLucille RoussinJoan SchieleCatherine SeaseKathleen Donahue SherwoodJohn H. StubbsKathryn A. ThomasBarbara TsakirgisPatty Jo WatsonRobyn M. WebbyMichael WisemanRobyn Woodward

Richard H. Howland Norma Kershaw

Nancy C. Wilkie

AMERICAN JOURNALOF ARCHAEOLOGY

THE JOURNAL OF THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICA

EDITORS

R. Bruce Hitchner, University of DaytonEditor-in-Chief

Paul Rehak & John G. Younger, University of KansasCo-editors, Book Reviews

ADVISORY BOARD

Susan Kane, ex officioOberlin College

EDITORIAL ASSISTANT

Kathryn Armstrong

Susan E. AlcockUniversity of Michigan

Roger BagnallColumbia University

Larissa BonfanteNew York University

Joseph C. CarterUniversity of Texas at Austin

John F. CherryUniversity of Michigan

Stephen L. DysonState University of New York at Buffalo

Jonathan EdmondsonYork University

Elizabeth FentressRome, Italy

Timothy E. GregoryOhio State University

Julie M. HansenBoston University

Kenneth W. HarlTulane University

Sharon C. HerbertUniversity of Michigan

Ann KuttnerUniversity of Pennsylvania

Claire LyonsThe Getty Research Institute

John T. MaOxford University

David MattinglyUniversity of Leicester

Ian MorrisStanford University

Robin OsborneCambridge University

Curtis N. RunnelsBoston University

Mary M. VoigtCollege of William and Mary

Marni Blake WalterEditor

Kevin MullenElectronic Operations Manager

THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY, the journal of the Archaeological Institute of America,was founded in 1885; the second series was begun in 1897. Indices have been published forvolumes 1–11 (1885–1896), for the second series, volumes 1–10 (1897–1906) and volumes 11–70(1907–1966). The Journal is indexed in the Humanities Index, the ABS International Guide to ClassicalStudies, Current Contents, the Book Review Index, the Avery Index to Architectural Periodicals, AnthropologicalLiterature: An Index to Periodical Articles and Essays, and the Art Index.

MANUSCRIPTS and all communications for the editors should be addressed to Professor R. BruceHitchner, Editor-in-Chief, AJA, Archaeological Institute of America, located at Boston University, 656Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts 02215-2006, tel. 617-353-9364, fax 617-353-6550, [email protected]. The American Journal of Archaeology is devoted to the art and archaeology of ancientEurope and the Mediterranean world, including the Near East and Egypt, from prehistoric to lateantique times. The attention of contributors is directed to “Editorial Policy, Instructions for Contributors,and Abbreviations,” AJA 104 (2000) 3–24. Guidelines for AJA authors can also be found on the WorldWide Web at www.ajaonline.org. Contributors are requested to include abstracts summarizing themain points and principal conclusions of their articles. Manuscripts, including photocopies ofillustrations, should be submitted in triplicate; original photographs, drawings, and plans should notbe sent unless requested by the editors. In order to facilitate the peer-review process, all submissionsshould be prepared in such a way as to maintain anonymity of the author. As the official journal ofthe Archaeological Institute of America, AJA will not serve for the announcement or initialscholarly presentation of any object in a private or public collection acquired after 30 December1970, unless the object was part of a previously existing collection or has been legally exportedfrom the country of origin.

BOOKS FOR REVIEW should be sent to Professors Paul Rehak and John G. Younger, Co-editors, AJABook Reviews, Classics Department, Wescoe Hall, 1445 Jayhawk Blvd., University of Kansas, Lawrence,Kansas 66045-2139, tel. 785-864-3153, fax 785-864-5566, email [email protected] [email protected] (please use both addresses for all correspondence). The following are excludedfrom review and should not be sent: offprints; reeditions, except those with great and significantchanges; journal volumes, except the first in a new series; monographs of very small size and scope;and books dealing with the archaeology of the New World.

THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY (ISSN 0002-9114) is published four times a year inJanuary, April, July, and October by the Archaeological Institute of America, located at Boston Uni-versity, 656 Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts 02215-2006, tel. 617-353-9361, fax 617-353-6550,email [email protected]. Subscriptions to the American Journal of Archaeology may be addressed to theInstitute headquarters in Boston. An annual subscription is $75 (international, $95); the institutionalrate is $250 (international, $290). Membership in the AIA, including a subscription to AJA, is $85 peryear (C$123). Student membership is $40 (C$58); proof of full-time status required. Internationalsubscriptions and memberships must be paid in U.S. dollars, by a check drawn on a bank in the U.S.or by money order. No replacement for nonreceipt of any issue of AJA will be honored after 90 days(180 days for international subscriptions) from the date of issuance of the fascicle in question. Whencorresponding about memberships or subscriptions, always give your account number, as shown onthe mailing label or invoice. A microfilm edition of the Journal, beginning with volume 53 (1949), isissued after the completion of each volume of the printed edition. Subscriptions to the microfilmedition, which are available only to subscribers to the printed edition of the Journal, should be sentto ProQuest Information and Learning (formerly Bell & Howell Information and Learning), 300North Zeeb Road, Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106. Back numbers of AJA and the Index 1907–1966 may beordered from the Archaeological Institute of America in Boston. Exchanged periodicals andcorrespondence relating to exchanges should be directed to the AIA in Boston. Periodicals postagepaid at Boston, Massachusetts and additional mailing offices. Postmaster: send address changes to theAmerican Journal of Archaeology, Archaeological Institute of America, located at Boston University, 656Beacon Street, Boston, Massachusetts 02215-2006.

The opinions expressed in the articles and book reviews published in the American Journal of Archaeologyare those of the authors and not of the editors or of the Archaeological Institute of America.

Copyright © 2003 by the Archaeological Institute of America

The American Journal of Archaeology is composed in ITC New Baskervilleat the offices of the Archaeological Institute of America, located at Boston University.

The paper in this journal is acid-free and meets the guidelines for permanence and durability of theCommittee on Production Guidelines for Book Longevity of the Council on Library Resources.

AMERICAN JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

Volume 107 • No. 2 April 2003

FIELD REPORT

Laura Maniscalco and Brian E. McConnell: The Sanctuary of theDivine Palikoi (Rocchicella di Mineo, Sicily): Fieldwork from1995 to 2001 145

ARTICLES

L.M. Bendall: A Reconsideration of the Northeastern Building at Pylos:Evidence for a Mycenaean Redistributive Center 181

Yuval Goren, Shlomo Bunimovitz, Israel Finkelstein, and NadavNa’aman: The Location of Alashiya: New Evidence from PetrographicInvestigation of Alashiyan Tablets from El-Amarna and Ugarit 233

Marc Van De Mieroop: Reading Babylon 257

2003 AIA AWARDS

Awards Presented at the 104th Annual Meeting of the ArchaeologicalInstitute of America 277

REVIEWS

Book ReviewsMuscarella, The Lie Became Great: The Forgery of Ancient Near Eastern

Cultures (D.W.J. Gill) 285Hansen, ed., A Comparative Study of Thirty City-State Cultures: An

Investigation Conducted by the Copenhagen Polis Centre ( J.C. Wright) 286Arnold and Wicker, eds., Gender and the Archaeology of Death

(M.J. Becker) 287Renfrew and Boyle, eds., Archaeogenetics: DNA and the Population

Prehistory of Europe, andRenfrew, ed., America Past, America Present: Genes and Languages in the

Americas and Beyond (R. Attenborough) 288Richards and Van Buren, eds., Order, Legitimacy and Wealth in Ancient

States (A.B. Knapp) 290Pare, ed., Metals Make the World Go Round: The Supply and Circulation of

Metals in Bronze Age Europe ( J.D. Muhly) 291Mayor, The First Fossil Hunters: Palaeontology in Greek and Roman Times

(D. Ruscillo) 293Scott and Gitin, eds., The Practical Impact of Science on Near Eastern and

Aegean Archaeology (E. Ferrara) 295Robinson, The Man Who Deciphered Linear B: The Story of Michael Ventris

(T.G. Palaima) 296Farrand, Excavations at Franchthi Cave, Greece. Vol. 12, Depositional History

of Franchthi Cave: Sediments, Stratigraphy and Chronology (P. Miracle) 297

322

Güntner, Tiryns 12: Figürlich bemalte Keramik aus Tiryns ( J. Crouwel) 298Michailidou, ed., Manufacture and Measurement: Counting, Measuring

and Recording Craft Items in Early Aegean Societies (C.W. Shelmerdine) 299Yule, Die Gräberfelder in Samad al Shan (Sultanat Oman): Materialen zu

einer Kulturgeschichte (E. Haerinck) 301Balmuth, ed., Hacksilber to Coinage: New Insights into the Monetary History

of the Near East and Greece, A Collection of Eight Papers Presented at the 99thAnnual Meeting of the Archaeological Institute of America (D.T. Potts) 302

Otto, Die Entstehung und Entwicklung der Klassisch-Syrischen Glyptik(B.A. Porter) 303

Cosmopoulos, The Rural History of Ancient Greek City States: The OroposSurvey Project (D.C. Haggis) 305

Ausilio, ed., Creta antica: Rivista annuale di studi archeologici, storici edepigrafici (G.W.M. Harrison) 307

Ito, Theory and Practice of Site Planning in Classical Sanctuaries(M. Wilson Jones) 308

Hellman, L’Architecture grecque. Vol. 1, Les principes de la construction(B.A. Barletta) 309

Thöne, Ikonographische Studien zu Nike im 5. Jahrhundert v. Chr.:Untersuchungen zur Wirkungsweise und Wesenart (K.A. Schwab) 310

Hedreen, Capturing Troy: The Narrative Functions of Landscape in Archaicand Classical Greek Art (T.J. Smith) 311

Mattusch, Brauer, Knudsen, eds., From the Parts to the Whole. Vol. 2,Acta of the 13th International Bronze Congress, Held at Cambridge,Massachusetts, May 28–June 1, 1996 (M.B. Hollinshead) 312

Jöhrens, Amphorenstempel im Nationalmuseum von Athen zu den von H.G.Lolling aufgenommenen “Unedierten Henkelinschriften.” Mit einem Anhang:Die Amphorenstempel in der Sammlung der Abteilung Athen des DeutschenArchäologischen Instituts (M.L. Lawall) 313

Descœudres, Ostia: Port et porte de la Rome antique (G.R. Storey) 314Padgett, ed., Roman Sculpture in the Art Museum, Princeton University

(M.C. Sturgeon) 315Wrede, Senatorische Sarkophage Roms (D.E.E. Kleiner) 316Bodel, ed., Epigraphic Evidence: Ancient History from Inscriptions

(M.B. Richardson) 318Pitts, Hengeworld: Life in Britain 2000 BC as Revealed by the Latest Discoveries

at Stonehenge, Avebury and Stanton Drew (A.F. Harding) 318Duval, Marin, Metzger, eds., Salona. Vol. 3, Manastirine: Établissement

préromain, nécropole et basilique paléochrétienne. Recherches archéologiquesfranco-croates à Salone (Z.H. Archibald) 320

BOOKS RECEIVED

American Journal of Archaeology 107 (2003) 145–80145

The Sanctuary of the Divine Palikoi(Rocchicella di Mineo, Sicily):Fieldwork from 1995 to 2001

LAURA MANISCALCO AND BRIAN E. MCCONNELL

AbstractThis report details the results of past research and

current excavations at the Sanctuary of the Divine Palikoiin eastern Sicily, where fieldwork conducted between1995 and 2001 has yielded remains of two stoas and ahestiaterion of the fifth century B.C., structures of theArchaic period, and evidence of occupation in the Pale-olithic and Neolithic periods and the Sicilian Bronze Age.Literary sources tell us that in the mid fifth century B.C.the Sikel leader Ducetius founded a city, which he calledPalikè, near the sanctuary and that he also created ashort-lived federation of Sikel cities that challenged thehegemony of Syracuse and other coastal Greek cities.The sanctuary may have functioned as an alternative cen-ter of social and political power from the fifth centuryB.C. to the second century B.C. when it became a rally-ing point for runaway slaves.*

Ancient Palikè (modern Rocchicella di Mineo)is located in the Caltagirone river valley south ofthe plain of Catania in eastern Sicily.1 It is articulat-ed in three areas: an open plain where a notablehydrogeological phenomenon came to be the coreof an important sanctuary of the indigenous Sikelpeople, a service area for this sanctuary where struc-tures were built on a rising slope toward a largeopen grotto in the flank of a low hill, and the rela-

tively level summit of the hill, which was the site ofan extensive settlement. The name Palikè is associ-ated with that of Ducetius, the leader of an indige-nous Sikel confederation that challenged theGreeks of Sicily in the mid fifth century B.C., and itis the story of Ducetius that has played a fundamen-tal role in determining the site’s historical signifi-cance. Nevertheless, the archaeological record re-veals a long history of human activity and stratigra-phy extending from the Paleolithic period throughlate antiquity. This report, which focuses on the areaof the Grotto, offers a new assessment of the histor-ical context in which this center developed andmaintained its unique identity despite the absorp-tion of Sikel society into the currents of Greek andRoman civilization.

the sanctuary and “the craters”

The ancient historian Diodorus Siculus(11.88.6–11.90.2), writing in the first century B.C.,describes the revolt of Ducetius, who founded acity at the site of the ancient sanctuary of the divinePalikoi, twin brothers sacred to the indigenousSikel people.2 Diodorus’s vivid description pays

* The authors wish to express their thanks to M.G. Branci-forti, head of the Archeological Section of the Superinten-tency of Catania, for encouraging this enterprise, which be-gan in 1995. The fieldwork has been the burden of many peo-ple, especially field archaeologists C. Cirelli, F. Nicoletti, G. Rega-nati, and D. Midolo, illustrators M.G. Currò, C. Gulisano, M.Puglisi, and L. Grasso, site conservator P. Nobile, the manyworkers who have participated in the individual campaigns, es-pecially M. Ragusa and site caretakers G. Interlandi and S.Interlandi, as well as several student volunteers including M.Brady and S. De Francesco. Thanks are owed to D. Sanders foruseful discussion as the virtual reality model of the Hestiateri-on was being prepared by Learning Sites, Inc., and to M. Bell,N. Bookidis, C. Marconi, Wm. Mierse, and M. Miles for helpfulcomments on the site overall and the draft of this article. Theillustrations were prepared for publication in part by E. Wal-lace. This article was prepared in part by B.E. McConnell as avisiting scholar in the Department of Visual Arts at the Univer-sity of Dayton. Finally, the authors wish to express their appre-ciation to R.B. Hitchner, editor-in-chief of the AJA and to theanonymous reviewers for their interest and encouragement.

1 This river is also called the Margi. For an analysis of ancient

routes in this area, see Adamesteanu 1962, 174–81.2 Historical analyses of Ducetius may be found in Consolo

Langher 1996, 246–51; 1997, 61–9. For historical summaries onthe cult of the Palikoi, see Holm 1870, 75–9; Freeman 1891,517–30; Pace 1945, 520–7; Ziegler 1949a, 1949b; Bello 1960;Manni 1983; Meurant 1998. The Sanctuary of the Divine Pa-likoi is thought to have been the setting for one of the four actsof Aeschylus’s lost play, The Women of Aetna (La Rosa 1974; Lu-raghi 1994, 342–4; Corbato 1996). The etymological derivationof the name Palikoi has been the subject of speculation sinceantiquity. Macrobius (Sat. 19.15–17) states that it comes fromthe Greek π τ πλιν κ σθαι and recounts the story of Tha-lia, a river nymph who bore to Zeus twin sons but who for fear ofHera’s wrath hid them beneath the earth—the bubbling lakeswould represent the return of Thalia’s sons to the surface. Aninteresting hypothesis (Croon 1952), on the other hand, fo-cuses on the root pal- in Palikoi and relates it to Latin words for“gray” or “muddy” in connection with the physical aspect of the“boiling” lakes themselves. Although it is customary and conve-nient to describe the lakes as boiling (for the apparent activity),the actual nature of the hydrogeological phenomenon is causedas much by chemical as by thermal properties (Ponte 1934).

LAURA MANISCALCO AND BRIAN E. MCCONNELL146 [AJA 107

particular attention to the unusual geologicalphenomenon that was the focus of their cult: “Firstof all, there are the Craters which, although theyare not large, they yet hurl up violent geysers froman unspeakable depth . . . the surge of the watersis so amazing that the event seems to be due to adivine force.”3 The geysers of water were often ac-companied by a thunderous roar, which came tobe reiterated as an ancient wonder by later au-thors.4 Other authors state that it was actually dan-gerous to be near the lakes—Hippys of Rhegionin the fifth century B.C. wrote that one could walkabout them without harm but that anyone who laydown on the ground would die.5 The lasting fameof the shrine stemmed from the sacrality of theoaths that were made in its temenos and the severi-ty with which perjurers were punished by deathor blinding.6

The presence of the boiling lakes may have con-ditioned occupation patterns in the area at anearly date. The danger around the lakes de-scribed by Hippys of Rhegion most likely wascaused by the presence of gases especially atground level, and this danger is consistent withconditions known at similar lakes, even in recenttimes.7 For this reason, higher ground may havebeen sought for stable occupation, and in fact theearliest occupation at the site, which dates to thePaleolithic period, is located in front of the grot-to above the actual plain and at a distance fromthe area of the former lakes. The favorable condi-tions of this location—a grotto protected from thewinds and open toward the south onto a wideplain near the Margi river—would suggest thepossibility of a permanent settlement rather thana seasonal one or one tied to the movement ofgame animals.

Literary sources describe several importantevents in the history of ancient Palikè. Hippys ofRhegion, in connection with an Olympic date inthe late seventh century B.C. (636–632 B.C.), com-ments that the sanctuary of the Divine Palikoi was“built up” (κδµηθναι).8 In the mid fifth cen-tury B.C., according to Diodorus Siculus,9 Duce-tius transferred the population of Menae, his ownnative city, to a place near the “precinct” (τ µενς)of the Palikoi, and he apportioned the surround-ing land (κατεκληρησε τν µρν ραν)to a multitude of colonists (τ πλθς τνκητρων).10 Ducetius’s choice for a foundationwas logical—he himself was from Menae, the sanc-tuary of the Divine Palikoi was already the indige-nous sanctuary par excellence in eastern Sicily, and itslocation in the center of the Sikel heartland waseasily defensible.11 Diodorus relates that the cityPalikè was destroyed after only a brief period ofexistence, and that even in his time, some four cen-turies after the fact, it remained uninhabited(!κητς).12 The Sanctuary of the Divine Palikoi,on the other hand, seems to have survived the fallof the city Palikè, and it continued to serve as aplace to which slaves could escape from cruel mas-ters.13 Diodorus goes on to say that during the Sec-ond Slave Revolt a band of slaves departing fromSyracuse took refuge there and that Salvius, an-other slave who led a seige of Morgantina and over-ran the countryside as far as the plain of Leonti-noi, made a thank-offering to the Divine Palikoifor his military victory and was crowned king withthe new name Tryphon.14

What literary sources do not tell us explicitlyabout the Sanctuary of the Divine Palikoi and thecity Palikè is the way in which each was adminis-tered and the social, political, and religious func-

3 Diod. Sic. 11.89.2–3, authors’ translation.4 See Diod. Sic. 11.89.3–4; Pseudo-Aristotle, Mir. 57.5 Text of Hippys is preserved among the marvels of antiqui-

ty described by Antigonus Carystius (Hist. mir. 121): "Ιππυς δ%& 'Ρηγ*νς περ+ τν λεγµ νων τπων φθε!ρειν τ-.µπ!πτντα τιτν τι γρφει[ν]. φησ+ν .ν 0Αθ2ναις .π+3ασιλ ως 0Επαινετ, 6λυµπιδς 7κτης κα+ τριακστς(636/3), .ν 89 0Αρυτµας Λκων νικ;< στδιν, τς Σικελ!ας.ν Παλικ*ς κδµηθναι τπν, ες ?ν στις @ν εσ λθ8η,ε µ%ν κατακλιθε!η, πθν82σκει<ν>, ε δ% περιπατ!η,Cδ%ν πσειν.

See also Jacoby 1950, 542, nr. 554 (3). Other editions ofthis text appear in ΠΑΡΑ∆ΓΡΑΦΙ 1963, 90, CXXI (133)and Rerum Mirablium Collectio (Musso 1985, 56, 121 [133]).

6 Diod. Sic. 11.89.5 and Pseudo-Aristotle, Mir. 57.7 The presence of carbon dioxide and other gases at low

levels effectively deprives one of necessary oxygen and there-fore leads to asphyxiation.

8 Hippys of Rhegion, supra n. 5.9 Diod. Sic. 11.88.6.

10 Whether this division refers to the city or to the fieldsaround it or both is a matter of interpretation. Professor Mal-colm Bell III, whom the authors wish to acknowledge for point-ing out this issue, is considering the role of Ducetius in thedevelopment of Morgantina’s urban layout.

11 Ancient writers indicate that there was a clear differencethat was understood to exist between Greek and Sikel centers(cf. Diod. Sic. 14.87.3–5) and between Greek and Sikel terri-tory—e.g., Dionysius I attacked “the land of the Sikels” (Diod.Sic. 14.78.7: τν τν Σικελν ραν) in reference to Menaionand Morgantina. There were clearly Sikel and Greek territo-ries near Naxos, as well (Diod. Sic. 14.7.5). For discussion anddelineation of the indigenous, “Sikel” region of eastern Sicily,see Holloway 1990.

12 Diod. Sic. 11.90.1–2, but see also infra. n. 42.13 Diod. Sic. 11.88.7.14 Diod. Sic. 36.3.3 and 36.7.1. The nature of the offering,

the dedication of a robe with a purple border, is significantbecause it presumably was a Roman toga praetexta or laticlaviacaptured as a war spoil (Walton 1967, 165, n. 1).

THE SANCTUARY OF THE DIVINE PALIKOI, SICILY 1472003]

tions that related the two. Although Diodorus writesin the same paragraphs about the creation of aleague (συντ λεια) of Sikel cities, he never actual-ly states that the Sanctuary of the Divine Palikoi oreven that the city Palikè was the seat of this union(even though one could easily assume so). Like-wise, the precise location Salvius’s dedication andcoronation, apart from having taken place in theterritory of Leontinoi (which could be conceivedas including Palikè), is not specified, although theSanctuary of the Divine Palikoi would have beenmost appropriate for such ceremonies. Such infor-mation can only be deduced from archaeologicaldiscoveries on site examined in the context of sim-ilar evidence recovered elsewhere in Sicily and oth-er relevant locations.

Early Exploration and Current Excavationat Rocchicella

Rocchicella has been known as an archaeologi-cal site since the 16th century when the Domini-can monk Tommaso Fazello identified it as Pa-likè.15 He also identified the nearby Naftia Lake asthe boiling craters of the Palikoi, which could beseen easily until the 1930s when land reclamationand industrial projects began to tame their char-acteristic jets of carbon dioxide.16 In the 18th cen-tury the famous French illustrator Jean Houel vis-ited the site and produced several panoramic il-lustrations in gouache and aquatint.17 A rare pic-ture from 1887 shows one of the lakes before drain-age in the 1930s and later industrial transforma-tion (fig. 1).18

In the early 20th century, Paolo Orsi reportedthe finding of a Sikel inscription, now lost, fromPalikè.19 It was not until the 1960s, however, thatactual survey and excavation of the site were under-taken first by Gino Gentili and later by Paola Pela-gatti and Luigi Bernabò Brea. This phase of re-

search saw the identification of a polygonal wall nearthe summit of the hill and the recovery of a numberof painted architectural terracottas from the area ofthe city itself. Further exploration of the city area byPaola Pelagatti led to the creation of the first ar-chaeological plan.20 Gentili also published a bronzebelt with an inscription in Greek, found just out-side the city wall along the northeastern side of thehill.21 It reads:

ΦΑΙΚFΝ ΑΠF ΤΩΝ ΚΕΝΤFΡΙΠΙΝΩΝ |ΑΝΕΘΕΚΕ ΠΑΣΙ ΘΕFΙ

Phaikon dedicated (this belt taken) from the (sol-diers) of Kenturipe to all the gods.

On comparison with similar artifacts from theSabellian area in central Italy, this belt and its in-scription have been dated to the fourth centuryB.C. It suggests the presence of mercenaries ineastern Sicily and indicates that Palikè was a cultcenter where war-spoils could be dedicated in amanner similar to the pan-Hellenic sanctuaries ofGreece.22

Paola Pelagatti also conducted brief excava-tions in the area of the large grotto on the south-ern side of the hill facing the former BoilingLakes. There she found a structure with a rough-ly square plan in volcanic breccia, which she iden-tified as a temple of the Archaic period.23 Pale-olithic levels were found beneath this structure,and Luigi Bernabò Brea published them alongwith Neolithic and Copper Age materials foundin fields nearby.24

Renewed archaeological exploration at Rocchi-cella began in 1995 when the recently formed Su-perintendency of Catania conducted a series of ar-chaeological tests on the hilltop, in front of the grot-to, and in other areas. This investigation confirmedthe existence of a city of the fourth century B.C. onthe hilltop with a regular planned layout and an

15 Fazello 1558, dec. I 1.3, cap. 2; see also Cluverius 1659,195–200. The Prince of Biscari, Ignazio Paternò Castello, onthe other hand, suggested that Sanctuary of the Divine Pa-likoi be located in Contrada Bella Cortina near the moderncity of Paternò, on the northern edge of the plain of Cataniaand at the foot of Mount Etna (Paternò Castello 1817, 63–9).

16 The chemical composition of the gases emitted by thelakes and their industrial potential were recognized in the1930s by Giuseppe Ponte; see Ponte 1934. Currently, an in-dustrial establishment that captures the gases and refines themfor use in carbonated beverages occupies the location.

17 Houel 1785, 57 ff., pl. 177.18 The authors wish to thank S. Interlandi for obtaining a

print of this image.19 Orsi 1900.20 This plan appeared first in the compendium Sicilia Antica

(Sicilia Antica 1980, 756, fig. 226) and again in smaller formatin an archaeological guidebook (Coarelli 1984, 202).

21 Landowner Sig. A.Tranquillità discovered this belt, and itis now on display in the Syracuse Museum. See Gentili 1962.

22 Phaikon must have been one of these mercenaries, andnumerous coins with the legend Kainon found at Palikè canbe explained in this manner (from an official report on thecoins from Rocchicella prepared by Dott.ssa Emilia Oteri.).For the Sabellian associations of this belt, see Tagliamonte1994, 148. We may compare this dedication to the well-knowndedication at Olympia of a helmet taken from the Etruscansat the Battle of Cuma. During the Sicilian Slave Revolts atthe end of the second century B.C., a leader of the slaves,Salvius, dedicated a purple robe captured from the Romans(Diod. Sic. 36.7.1 and supra).

23 This excavation was reported in brief annual summariesof archaeological fieldwork (Pelagatti 1962, 1966), but a com-plete discussion of the findings has yet to be published.

24 See Bernabò Brea 1965.


enclosing fortification wall.25 The remains of thefourth-century B.C. city seem to postdate cuttings inthe bedrock and earlier structures beneath the build-ings and the streets of this city, which follow a differ-ent layout and extend beyond the limits of the fourth-century B.C. city wall. The fact that the so-called po-lygonal wall, which Gentili identified as a defensivework, encloses both the summit of the hill and sever-al ashlar blocks that probably once were part of thefoundations of a small temple suggests that it actuallydefined the temenos of a sanctuary, thus transform-ing the summit of Rocchicella into an acropolis.26

Even more surprising was the discovery in 1995of a monumental building in the area of the Grot-to, just north of the complex excavated by Dott.ssaPelagatti. Subsequent excavations in 1996, 1997,and a major campaign from 2000–2001 have afford-ed a more complete view of these structures andprovided a clearer notion of the architectural lay-out of this area, which we interpret to be a sanctuary

(fig. 2).27 Legislative control of large tracts of landaround the site now protects the archaeologicalremains, and an interpretive center is being creat-ed in the historic farmhouse that is located at thebase of the Grotto.

sequence of occupation

Exploration and excavation has revealed a se-quence of settlement at the site far longer than thatrecorded in historical sources. The following is anoverview.

Paleolithic PeriodEpipaleolithic strata, characterized by the

strong red color of the soil produced by a highconcentration of iron, are present in the area infront of the Grotto, and they have been investi-gated in two sectors. From these strata excavatorsrecovered a wide variety of flint and quartzitetools,28 faunal remains,29 and botanical remains.30

25 Excavation and study of this area has been entrusted toSpencer Pope. The authors wish to thank the Center for OldWorld Archaeology and Art of Brown University and studentvolunteers, including Zoe Kontes, for their support.

26 Roger Wilson identifies the blocks as the base of an altar(Wilson 1990, 278–9).

27 Progress reports on these excavations were presented atthe annual meetings of the Archaeological Institute of Amer-ica in 1997 (L. McConnell 1997), 1998 (L. Maniscalco and B.E.McConnell 1998), and in the course of a special colloquiumheld at the 102nd Annual Meeting in 2001 (B.E. McConnellet al. 2001). A preliminary report appears in Maniscalco andMcConnell 1997–1998.

28 In trench 4 the tools (grattatoi, raschiatoi, and denticolati)are attributable to the so-called Undifferentiated Epipaleolith-ic. In trench 22 the tools (microliti) are attributable to the Sou-vetrian (F. Nicoletti).

29 The official report on faunal remains by C. Di Patti and L.Galletti of the Museo Geologico C.G. Gemmellarodell’Università di Palermo identifies bos primigenius, equus hi-druntinus, and perhaps cervus elaphus.

30 The official report on botanical remains by E. Castiglioniand S. Di Martino of the ARCO Coopertativa ricerche archeo-biologiche identifies two large seeds of leguminous plants(pisum/lathirus).

Fig. 1. Historic photograph of the Naftia Lake by Giuseppe Ponte, 1887


Radiocarbon dates place these strata between the11th and the 10th millennia B.C. In the stratumimmediately above these, a burial of an infant wasfound. Cut twice by later strata, this burial, a small,simple pit with a few stones around it, yieldedthe bones of the complete, frontal portion of askull, a clavicle, and the small bones of an infant3–5 months old with a few flint tools buried as afunerary assemblage.31

Neolithic and Bronze AgeThe first traces of stable settlement date to the

Neolithic period, and they consist of a terracottapavement with two terracotta platforms set on it.The limited dimensions of the trench do not per-mit us to know whether this is a portion of a hut orperhaps an open area. The presence of grindingstones on one of the platforms points to a domesticuse of the structures. The next architectural re-

31 Official report on the human skeletal remains by Prof. F. Mallegni of the Università di Pisa.

Fig. 2. Plan of Grotto area with major structures indicated (smaller squares 10 m2.) (Courtesy of Studio Schilirò)

CHIODO

CS, 0, 00

Hestiaterion

Stoa B

Stoa FA

Complex P


mains date to the Early Bronze Age (ca. 2000 B.C.),and they consist of a hut with a circular plan in thearea of Complex P (fig. 3). Cut by the lower wall ofComplex P (wall 49), the wall of the hut appears tohave been built carefully in large stones of volcanicbreccia, and it is preserved in two courses.

Occupation during the Sicilian Late Bronze Ageis well represented by many rock-cut tombs, whichwere carved into the cliff face of the Grotto and intothe surrounding slopes of Rocchicella. All of thetombs had been plundered in the distant past, buttheir architecture—three of them have a circularplan, a conical section, and a bench around theinterior—is similar to that of Late Bronze Age tombsat Caltagirone.32 An assemblage of four Late BronzeAge vessels along the west side of the Grotto mayindicate that the area had been used for funeraryor other ritual purposes.33 We cannot say with anycertainty when the cult of the Divine Palikoi firstappeared. Cults connected with geological phe-nomena in Sicily are well attested not only in histor-ic times, but also at many prehistoric sites.34

Archaic PeriodThe earliest architectural remains in the Grotto

area, apart from the prehistoric structures, date to

the Archaic period, ca. seventh century B.C. (fig.4). These structures have been explored only par-tially. Although the remains were cut by later walls,a 4 m wide room was identified (not shown). Achange in the overall orientation of buildings tonorth–south and east–west axes appears in the lat-er Archaic remains. Factors for the reorientationmay include both a better layout with respect to theimmediate slope of the Grotto and a possible rela-tion to the boiling lakes, which clearly is significantin later structures (infra).

The best known structure of the Archaic period,Building A, was built in the center of the Grotto ona level surface cut deep into the protohistoric stra-ta in that sector. The removed soil with its protohis-toric contents was deposited just below this level inorder to construct a terrace on the steep slope infront of the Grotto (fig. 5). The building appears tohave been constructed in two phases. The first phaseconsists of a rectangular room, 5.5 m long and 4.5 mwide, with an entrance on the short, west side andwalls composed of small and medium-sized stonesarranged in two rows (a doppio paramento). In thesecond phase, the north wall was reinforced andlengthened to a total of 8 m using a different ma-sonry technique: limestone slabs. The plan of the

32 Maniscalco 1985–1986.33 Similar deposits of ceramic vessels without actual burials

are found in the context of Late Bronze Age necropoleis atPaternò (Maniscalco 1997).

34 Late Neolithic settlements in Sicily seem to have a specialassociation with water and mud-springs, as demonstrated by theCalcara on Panarea in the Aeolian islands and the Salinelle atPaternò (Maniscalco 1996, 1999a).

Fig. 3. Early Bronze Age hut in trench 22 (shaded area). (M.G. Currò)


structure thus takes on the form of a small templein antis with one of the short sides set obliquely,probably to account for the extreme natural drop.For this reason, in fact, the southern wall of thecella is in a different masonry technique from thatof the other walls, which are built in limestoneblocks; instead, it consists of large blocks of volca-nic rock (vulcanite) and served also as a kind ofterrace wall. Numerous stone slabs were found with-in the porch in antis outside of the cella and on theeastern side of the building. Another, similar slabfound within the cella near the entrance had a con-cave impression, which may have served as the basefor a wooden pole. These slabs may be the remainsof what was originally a stone flooring.

Unfortunately, this building was found to be al-most empty, but we know that it was destroyed al-ready in the sixth century B.C. from the presenceof pottery fragments from the Archaic period in itsown destruction stratum. In the foundation trenchof the northern wall of this building, a Cycladic cupwas found dated to the beginning of the seventhcentury B.C. Even though the central position ofthis building and architectural details, such as thepresence of a stone flooring and, perhaps, a wood-en pole, lead us to think that it had a cult function,the dimensions do not seem to correspond to thoseof a small temple (sacellum). Small temples of the

seventh and sixth centuries B.C. in Sicily typicallyare over 15 m long, although some smaller build-ings are attested.35 In reality, the longer walls of thestructure at Rocchicella seem to continue to theeast, where other slabs were found. Perhaps it ispossible that the eastern side of this structure wastransformed by the later structures of Complex Pand that the building originally was longer than isapparent from the archaeological data.

Fifth CenturyThe primary structure from the fifth century B.C.

is the Hestiaterion, which was built most likely inconnection with two stoas: Stoa B and Stoa FA (fig.6). The fact that these buildings maintained theexisting east–west and north–south orientationsuggests that other, earlier structures with that sameorientation were already standing. Stoa B, the floorof which was cut in part from the underlying bed-rock and was built in part on landfill, was kept dryby a large channel cut into the bedrock immediate-ly above it. The building’s central axis was in align-ment with the central axis of the Hestiaterion, andit may have had a colonnade along the southernside roughly 1.75 m above the level of a street orpassageway running just below it. For this reason itseems likely that the building was entered on theeastern side.

Fig. 4. Structures of Archaic date (shaded areas). (M.G. Currò)

35 See Romeo 1989. Sacello E at Naxos is 8 m long. The small North Temple at Megara Hyblaea is 9.6 m long.


Stoa B may have been part of a larger complexthat included other structures across the street.Large pithoi found in room 36 may indicate thatthis building was involved in the collection andredistribution of agricultural products. The care-ful recovery of mono-valve shellfish and a bronze“shell-shucker” near the in situ table supports inthis wide room suggests that foods were eaten inthis area, as well (fig. 7). This building, standingalmost as a barricade along the slope of the Grotto,served as an architectural interface between pub-lic areas down toward the sacred plain and areas ofmore restricted access (where the elegant Hestia-terion was located) up toward the Grotto.

Hellenistic and Roman PeriodsThe impressive Complex P was built above the

destruction level of Stoa B. The base wall, wall 49,extends for at least 50 m across the talus slope ofthe Grotto, effectively utilizing the back wall of StoaB as a foundation (fig. 8). Complex P is not, as in-terpreted by Pelagatti, an Archaic building, butmore likely a large terrace with its base probablyrising to the same level as the street that dividedthis complex from the Hestiaterion. It may haveserved as the platform for a southward extension ofthe Hestiaterion with remarkable affinity to con-temporary terraced sanctuaries at Palestrina and

Terracina.36 Unfortunately, mechanical scraping ofthe talus slope, long before the excavation began,has reduced the height of these walls, leaving gapsin the plan in some places. In front of wall 49, ontop of the collapsed ruins of Stoa B, an enormousdeposit of pottery and larger terracotta vessels (am-phoras and pithoi), and the remains of shells, ani-mal bones, and a bovine skull were found in a darkgray, ashy soil matrix.

The sanctuary remained active through the sec-ond or the third century A.D.37 At least two modifi-cations of the Hestiaterion can be dated to the ear-ly and middle Roman empire, including the con-struction of an enclosure within the central court.Hundreds of pottery sherds pertaining to kitchenand dining vessels recovered from the floor levelsof the Hestiaterion show the continuing use of thebuilding as a dining facility. In the fourth centuryA.D. the Hestiaterion was transformed into a farmcomplex. This change probably indicates that thearea ceased to function as a sanctuary or other pub-lic space. Excavated strata, however, show continu-ity of activity in the area from late antiquity throughthe 13th century. An apsidal structure, interpretedas an early Christian basilica, was constructed onthe remains of the Hestiaterion in about the eighthcentury A.D. (fig. 9). During the 1960s, several Byz-antine tombs were found by chance in the proper-

36 See discussion infra.37 Wilson (1990, 278–9) and Bell (1994) debate the pres-

ence of Roman remains at Rocchicella. It is now clear that ex-

tensive Roman remains are found in the Grotto area, while noRoman remains have been found in the upper areas of Roc-chicella where the city is located.

Fig. 5. Archaic Building A


ties bordering Rocchicella, and it is likely that asubstantial population still inhabited the area. TheMedieval toponym for the boiling lakes, Naftia,seems to have nothing to do with the indigenousand classical tradition that preceded it.38

settlement on the summit ofrocchicella39

The summit of Rocchicella holds remains of asettlement with Archaic and Classical phases andan acropolis at 201 m asl. Damage from clandestineexcavations in the 1970s and 1980s has obliteratedthe archaeological strata. Nonetheless, it was possi-ble to identify portions of houses constructed in so-called woven masonry (muri a telaio).40

The town had a regular, planned grid with a mainstreet, about 2.5 m wide, oriented north–south anddescending from the acropolis in the direction ofthe city wall that protected the settlement on itseastern side.41 The eastern face of the wall (1 m in

height and 17 m in length) in the woven masonrytechnique is characterized by six large blocks inlimestone and one in basalt, probably reused fromearlier structures, which were set vertically at inter-vals. Some of the facing had fallen away to revealabout 1 m behind it the presence of a second wall-facing in regular blocks, perhaps indicating thepresence of an earlier circuit wall. This sequencesuggests that following the phase built by Ducetiusin 453 B.C. there was a destruction, perhaps theone mentioned by Diodorus Siculus (11.90.1–2),with subsequent repair to the fortifications and re-construction of the buildings in the woven mason-ry technique, which is the easiest way to build usingdebris, at the beginning of fourth century B.C.42

Traces of an earlier level, dated to the seventhcentury on the basis of associated pottery fragments,were found beneath the street surface. For exam-ple, a wall in this early level crossed the street foundin the later phase, an orientation that indicates a

38 Although this toponym would seem to be Greek in origin(from νφθα, see Liddell et al. 1978, 1163), this word doesnot appear in connection with Rocchicella in any source untilthe Middle Ages (Arcifa 2001, 297).

39 The investigation of the settlement area began in 1995with the collaboration of C. Cirelli.

40 The direct translation of the Italian term for this techniqueis preferable to using the Latin term opus africanum, which isassociated more appropriately with buildings of the Roman era.

41 The long city wall was brought to light by the excavationsof the 1960s, but it remains unpublished apart from a shortdescription (Gentili 1962, 16).

42 Rocchicella is also one of the locations suggested for theSikel city Trinakie, which Diodorus Siculus(12.39.2–4) saysresisted subjection by Syracuse and consequently was sackedin 440/439 B.C. (Diodorus Budè, 106, n. page 30, ch. 29.2).For the identification of Trinakie instead at Mendolito, seeFranco 1999.

Fig. 6. Panoramic view of the Grotto area


very different urban layout.43 Thus it is clear thatthe settlement at Palikè existed prior to its so-calledfoundation by Ducetius and that it survived the fallof his short-lived Sikel state.

Monumental ArchitectureApart from the reference from Hippys above and

the passing reference to the “ara Palicorum” inVergil’s Aeneid, which may refer to just that—an al-tar dedicated to the Divine Palikoi, which must havebeen located somewhere near the boiling lakes (thespiritual center of the sanctuary)—Diodorus Sicu-lus is the sole literary source regarding the monu-mental architecture of the sanctuary.44 Diodorusmakes specific reference to:

7στι δ% κα+ τ τ µενς .ν πεδ!ω8 θεπρεπε* κε!µεννκα+ στα*ς κα+ τα*ς Kλλαις καταλσεσιν κανςκεκσµηµ νν

And there is the precinct lying on a plain fit for a god,(the precinct) which is adorned adequately both withstoas and with other lodgings.45

Diodorus then cuts the description short, but hedoes use the precise architectural term “stoa” andhe does refer to other καταλσεις—lodgings orresting-places.46 The archaeological remains recov-ered to date by the excavations of the Superinten-dency of Catania suggest that most monumentalconstruction took place in the area of the sanctu-ary, although monumental structures stood also onthe summit, or acropolis, of Rocchicella perhaps asearly as the Archaic period.

Remains on the AcropolisWithin the confines of a massive wall that runs

around the edge of the summit of Rocchicella as aterrace or temenos wall,47 there are cuttings for the

43 This settlement may have been the Eryke mentioned inhistorical sources; see Messina 1967.

44 For the text of Hippys of Rhegion, supra; Verg. Aen. 9.584–5: “matris luco Symaethia circum / flumina, pinguis ubi et pla-cabilis ara Palici.” The term “monumental architecture” is usedhere in reference to any large-scale building, which, whetherit be commissioned by a single individual, or a family, or a pub-lic body, had general symbolic significance to the immediatecommunity at and/or beyond the site itself.

45 Diod. Sic. 11.89.7. Authors’ translation.

46 See Liddell et al. 1978 and McDougall 1983, K59–60. C.H.Oldfather in the Loeb edition (Oldfather 1970: 357) trans-lates the term στα*ς as “porticoes” and καταλσεσιν as “loung-ing-place[s].” For discussion of the terminology for stoas, seeCoulton 1980.

47 Tracts of this wall have been explored at four locationsaround the summit, and it is clear that there was a continuousenclosure at least on the eastern, northern, and western sides.Discontinuities in the topography of the summit complicateefforts to identify a related wall tract on the southern side.

Fig. 7. Bronze shucker and mono-valve shells from Stoa B, room 6


setting of large ashlar blocks, and some of the blocksthemselves, which must have served as the founda-tions for a major structure (fig. 10). Seven blocks incalcarenite define the eastern side of the structure,while portions of three other blocks were foundalong the northern side.48 Setting lines preservedon the surface of two of the blocks in the first groupshow clearly that they were part of the foundationsof a large building designed and constructedcourse-by-course.49 Little remains of this building,and an effort to delimit its western and the south-ern sides brought to light smaller Hellenistic build-ings that had already obliterated it.

Major effort had been exerted to create a plat-form that covered an area of at least 22.5 × 10 m.This activity may be associated with deposits con-taining ceramics of the late seventh and sixth cen-turies B.C., which may be the remains of a fairlylarge Archaic sacellum.50 Furthermore, the locationof such a structure on the Rocchicella hilltop wouldsuggest that it was related to a cult of one or moreheavenly divinities, as opposed to chthonic divini-ties, and the reference to “all the gods” on thebronze belt dedicated by Phaikon (supra), whichwas found in the general area of the summit, mayconfirm the presence of other cults and cult-placessuch as this one near the Sanctuary of the DivinePalikoi.

the grotto area

From the acropolis one descends to the Grottoby way of a stairway cut carefully into the rock andpreserved in at least six tracts as a kind of “sacredway.”51 The stairs descend in dramatic fashion alongthe top and around the western side of the Grottoto a street roughly 2.5 m wide with a surface of packedcalcarenite chips, which proceeds across the up-per slope in a perfect west–east alignment between

Complex P and a monumental building that weidentify as a hestiaterion.52

The HestiaterionThe Hestiaterion is the best-built structure found

to date at Palikè. It is a long building constructed inashlar blocks, mostly of sandy limestone, that consistsof seven rooms set around a central court (fig. 11).53

48 Wilson (1990, 278–9) refers to these blocks as the re-mains of an altar, which would seem unlikely given the ex-tent of the cuttings.

49 The blocks, ACR2 and ACR3, were found in a position tiltedover to the south by relatively recent clandestine exploration,but when they were flipped back in place, reversing the appar-ent disturbance, the setting lines on each block lined up thusconfirming that they were indeed in situ.

50 Comparable structures of the Archaic period are presentedby Romeo (1989). The dimensions 22.5 × 10 m are not unusualfor this kind of structure, although the actual area of the build-ing above the foundations would be somewhat smaller.

51 Given the topography and the alignments that have beenidentified so far, possibly two other tracts of stairs may remainto be discovered. Where the terrain descends steeply, the stairsare consistently between 1.29 and 1.33 m wide, while in flatterareas the stairs or level tracts reach 1.85 m in width. Greatervariation occurs in the tread-width of each step from about 35

to 55 cm, while the rise of each step remains relatively consis-tent between about 17 and 25 cm.

52 Both spellings of this word for a dining facility, hestiaterionand hestiatorion, are supported by textual evidence; see Liddellet al. 1978, 698, entry for Lστιατ2ριν, τ.

53 In this description of the Hestiaterion, measurementsgiven to the millimeter are considered to be definitive andprecise, whereas those given in centimeters or meters are con-sidered to be approximate and are offered for purposes of dis-cussion. Measurements were taken with a Lufkin-brand 50 msteel tape marked to the millimeter and plumb-bobs underfavorable atmospheric conditions.

Architectural discussion in this report refers to a system ofidentification which recognizes wall tract, course, and individ-ual block as basic units of analysis. E.g., block II.B.3 is blocknumber 3 located in course B of wall II. As a convention, courseA is considered to be the highest foundation course, and coursesbeneath it are identified with double letters.

Fig. 8. Wall U.S. 49


The facade of this building measures 25.5 m east–west, while the shorter sides of the building mea-sure 11.812 m on the west and 11.8 m on the east.54

Four larger rooms (roughly 5 m2) flank the courton its eastern and western sides,55 while three small-er rooms (4 m east–west × 3 m north–south) flank

the court on its northern side.56 The interior of thecentral court (room 2, 13.36 m east–west × 7.212 mnorth–south) was an open space that gave access toeach of the flanking rooms and provided a com-mon area for other functions.57 A heavy, squaredblock was found in situ in the eastern half of the

54 The difference is primarily a result of the degree to whichblocks were finished along the rear of the building, which washidden against the slope of the grotto.

55 Rooms 1 (4.985 m east–west × 5.03 m north–south) and4 (4.985 m east–west × 5.25 m north–south) on the easternflank of the court, and rooms 3 (4.960 m east–west × 4.954 mnorth–south) and 5 (4.9 m east–west × ca. 5.285 m north–south; room only partially excavated) on the western flank ofthe court. While the rear pair of side-rooms (rooms 4 and 5)mirror each other in plan, the plan of the forward rooms (rooms1 and 3) would seem to be identical—the plan of room 3 is therotation, not the mirror, of the plan of room 1, as one may seein the placement of the asymmetrical doorways. Unfortunate-ly doorways of rooms 1 and 3 were not fully preserved, but theoff-center placement may be calculated from the edge of thepreserved block and the estimated width, which each preserveddoorway block completes in the other doorway. Similar off-center placement of the doorway into a dining room and therotation in plan of opposite rooms may be seen in many loca-tions, e.g., the hestiaterion in the Sanctuary of Asklepios atTroizen, (see Boerker 1983, fig. 13).

56 Rooms 6 (4.220 m east–west × 3.093 m north–south), 7(4.185 m east–west × 3.076 m north–south), and 8 (4.220 meast–west; north–south measurement unavailable because ofincomplete excavation of this room, but it seems to have beenroughly comparable to the others).

57 Determining a standard unit of measurement employedin the construction of this building depends on the recogni-tion of significant lengths in the design of both the structureand its components, such as the blocks themselves and thetreatment of the blocks. The appeal of the facade as an inte-gral length of 100 units, a sort of hekatompedon, would yield abasic unit of 0.255 m, which is consistent with several othermeasurements, including the full depth of the structure(roughly 46¼ such units) and the width of the core structure(room 2 with its walls, which would be almost 45 such units).Interestingly, the width of the street in front of the Hestiate-rion and that of at least some of the streets on the acropolis(2.52 m) seem to maintain this unit as an integral multiple of10. Nevertheless, other units result in integral measurements,as well. A unit of 0.3 m, based on the height of the step intoroom 2 from the outside, yields exactly 85 units along the fa-cade of the building, just under 40 units along the shorter side,48 units in width across the core, and 18.5 units beyond thecore across the lateral rooms to the edge of the building. Nei-ther the lengths given for the Attic foot (ca. 0.294 m) nor theDoric foot (0.327 m), nor for other standard Greek units ofmeasurement yield particularly convincing integral multiples.Quantal analysis of fundamental measurements for this build-ing for possible units from 0.2 to 0.4 m, however, did not con-firm either the 0.255 or 0.3 units. For the principles and theformula for quantal analysis (Kendall’s formula), see Cherry

Fig. 9. Apsidal structure built on the remains of the Hestiaterion


court in line with the wall between rear rooms 6and 7. If paired with another such block in the west-ern half of the court (i.e., in line with the wall be-tween rooms 7 and 8),58 then the two blocks couldprovide bases for pillars or columns to support aroof over the central court and the flanking rooms.

The central court and the three rooms along itsnorthern flank seem to have been the core of this

building’s plan, and direct parallels can be estab-lished between this core and the plan of a well-known building in the Greek city of Megara Hy-blaea, the so-called hestiatorion or prytaneion59 (fig.12). The exterior measurements of the core struc-ture at Palikè (14.435 m east–west × 11.8 m north–south) are close to those of its architectural para-digm at Megara Hyblaea (13.96 m east–west × 11.005

1983 and Petruso 1992, 69–74. The author wishes to thankJohn Cherry for these references.

The existence and the exact length of standard units ofmeasurement in Greek architecture is a complex issue (Coul-ton 1975; De Waele 1998, 379–84). The complex and oftenimprecise correspondence of derived foot-units in Greek ar-chitecture is explained by De Waele (1988) as the result ofsite-specific rules in construction and not a standardized sys-tem of measurement as we conceive it today. Against this in-terpretation and in favor of standardized measurement systemsis Mertens (1984, 43–5).

It is possible that a “Sikel” foot was employed at Palikè inthe same manner as better known Greek units, perhaps evenby Greek architects and craftsmen who came to work on thisbuilding, as they must have on projects that were commis-sioned at other non-Greek sites, such as Segesta. Undoubt-edly both Sikels and Greeks, and certainly by the fifth centu-ry B.C. people with both Sikel and Greek ancestry, must havebeen drawn already to wherever they could find work, espe-cially on architectural projects. Regarding Greek and non-Hellenic ethnic groups in Elymnian cities, see Gallo 1982;Lejeune 1982. G. Vallet, citing Diod. Sic. (6.20.2: Συρακσιιςδ% κα+ π 3αρ3ρων τινν π0 ρMς φ ρεται.), discussesthe contribution of tribute to Syracuse from the indigenous

“barbarians” (i.e., Sikels) and the possibly significant presenceof an indigenous workforce in major Greek constructionprojects, which led to a corresponding transfer of construc-tion skill and experience to projects at indigenous centers(Vallet 1987, 539, 544–7).

58 This portion of the court was not excavated to the origi-nal floor level of the Hestiaterion in order to preserve laterstructures, so it was not possible to verify the existence of thehypothetical second block.

59 In order to understand this parallel, one must considerthe measurements not of the interior of room 2 but rather ofthe interior space plus the flanking walls of the rooms on eastand west (as though those flanking rooms were not there) andthe complete measurements of room 2 plus the rooms on thenorthern flank including the rear wall. The fundamental pub-lication of the building at Megara Hyblaea, for which the termshestiatorion and prytaneion are used, appears in Vallet et al.1976, 199–202, with plan 4; and Vallet et al. 1983, 62–9. Miller(1978, 229–30) also discusses this building and doubts the iden-tification as a prytaneion. It should be noted that this struc-ture does not seem to be preserved to its original floor level forthe irregularities which one may see in both preserved coursesof blocks (author’s personal observation).

Fig. 10. Blocks of foundations for a monumental structure (a temple?) on the acropolis


m north–south)60 to such a degree that the basicplan of the hestiaterion at Megara Hyblaea appearsto have been adapted at Palikè, with the addition ofthe four larger rooms on the eastern and the west-ern flanks.

Unlike the hestiaterion at Megara Hyblaea, how-ever, the building at Palikè is preserved above thefoundations, so that the wide, monumental stepentry to the central court (fig. 13) and the verywide doorways (over 2 m) of the rooms flanking

60 The overall measurements at Megara Hyblaea were takenfrom the course above the lowest foundation, which itselfmeasures 14.195 m east–west × 11.135 m north–south. Theinterior measurements of the three rooms along the north sidefrom west to east, (a) 3.750 m east–west × 3.215 m north–south,

(b) 3.777 m east–west × 2.289 m north–south, and (c) 3.831m east–west × 3.249 m north–south), are comparable to thoseof the corresponding rooms at Palikè, also. The author wishesto thank Dott.ssa Beatrice Basile for this information.

Fig. 11. Plan of the Hestiaterion as originally constructed. (M. Puglisi)

Fig. 12. Schematic plan of the Hestiaterion at Palikè with core structure indicated


use in late Roman times. A well-preserved surfaceof beaten earth found in neighboring room 7 wasleft unexcavated, however, as it may represent anoriginal floor surface.

The walls of both the exterior and interior of thebuilding bore plaster surfaces.67 Where the plasteris best preserved (on the interior walls along thelowermost wall blocks of the central court and onthe upper courses of the rear walls of rooms 4, 6,and 7),68 it is clear that a preparatory layer ofcoarse plaster was applied first to the surface ofthe wall before a final layer of more refined plas-ter was applied. It is not clear whether or not theplaster had been painted, although fairly consis-tent deposits in dusky red (Munsell 10R 3/2 to2.5YR 3/2) gave the plaster an overall yellowishappearance.69

The techniques of construction are among thebest that one can find in Greek architecture al-ready in the Archaic period. The blocks of the wallswere carefully squared and set snugly against eachother using the technique of anathyrosis. Setting-lines and pry-holes attest the care with which theblocks were aligned horizontally.70 Vertical align-ment was achieved using the Kπεργν technique,or cutting vertical channels at critical points toindicate the desired final, or reference, surface

61 For measurements and discussion of the monumentalentrance into the central court, see below. The widths of thedoorways into the rear rooms are all about 2.080 m, the widthmeasured for room 6. The doorway into room 7 remained ob-scured by partial rebuilding, which reduced the doorway widthby half. The width of the doorway into room 8 remains inde-terminate because the room was not excavated to floor level.

62 It is possible that these rooms, which one would see firstupon entering the building, served other purposes. Their widedoorways would have enhanced viewing what was within themto an even greater extent, and perhaps they were used fordisplay of statuary, decrees, spolia, or other dedicated items.See discussion below.

63 The bibliography on Greek dining rooms is vast. For thor-ough studies of these structures with tabulations of room di-mensions, see Goldstein 1978; Bookidis and Stroud 1997. Spe-cific studies on ritual dining at Corinth, including the recoveryof botanical and faunal remains, appear in Bookidis 1993, 1999.The authors wish to thank Dr. Bookidis for her helpful com-ments on dining practices and dining couch design.

64 See Bookidis and Stroud 1997 for references and bibliog-raphy.

65 This slab was carved in two elements, a main body 1.35 mlong × 0.63 m high × 0.175 m thick and a wider edge 1.475 mlong × 0.29 m wide × 0.14 m thick, which together create a T-shaped cross-section. Perhaps it served as the horizontal plat-form for a dining couch, which was raised on vertical supportsand on which cloths and other items could have been placedto offer greater comfort. It seems unlikely that this slab couldhave been used in the construction of the walls or other archi-tectural elements of the building for the way in which its edg-es had been carefully beveled. The way in which it had been

placed, leaning against the northern wall of room 1, would seemto suggest secondary positioning perhaps in the course of theroom’s reuse in late Roman times. No other such slabs or piec-es thereof were found.

66 Although later surfaces made measurement difficult, it waspossible to determine a slight pitch between 0.76 and 2.04%from back to front and 0.67% from east to west, perhaps todrain whatever rainwater came into the court from its opensouthern side back out to the exterior of the building. Theheight at the rear of room 2 is based on a beveled edge inpreserved wall plaster along course C, which presumably corre-sponded to the floor surface, while the height at the front ofthe room is based on actual beaten surfaces of clay. The pitchfrom east to west within room 2 would seem to correspond toa slight east–west pitch in the surface of the euthynteria.

67 Only one small area of plaster surface was found on theexterior (on block 6.C.1), but most likely the masons coveredthe extremely soluble calcarenite used in the construction ofthe walls. Traces of plaster surfacing are found on virtually ev-ery Greek building constructed in blocks of calcarenite, thesandy limestone common in southern Sicily.

68 This pattern of preservation results primarily from the wayin which floor levels had been raised in the course of the build-ing’s reuse and the way in which the building was buried be-neath the soil of the Grotto’s talus slope.

69 Pietro Nobile, conservator for the Superintendency ofCatania, suggests that this coloration may simply result fromthe oxidation of iron deposits within the plaster and/or theunderlying stone.

70 There is no evidence for the use of metal clamps in any ofthe blocks that have been recovered.

the northern side of the court were visible.61 It isdoubtful that these cramped, open rooms couldhave served the traditional arrangement of din-ing couches.62 The lateral rooms in this structure,however, (roughly 5 m2, with the doorway from thecentral court into each room off-center, thus per-mitting the insertion of seven dining couches)seem to fit a canonical scheme for Greek-style din-ing rooms.63

Fixed couches in stone with an earth fill areknown, along with portions of mobile couch furni-ture as depicted in vase painting and other repre-sentations in the context of Greek-style diningrooms.64 In the Hestiaterion at Palikè, a curiouslycut slab of calcarenite set against the northern wallof room 1 may be an element of a dining couch.65

The length of a fixed couch in stone or more mo-bile couches in wood could have been up to rough-ly 1.75 m, well within the normal range for full-length dining couches, and still permit a maximumof seven couches per room.

The original floor of the central court had anextremely smooth surface of beaten clay on packedsoil, a portion of which has been preserved in thesouthwestern corner of room 2.66 Determining theoriginal floor surface in the lateral and the rearrooms was more difficult because of extensive re-


of a finished wall.71 Such channels are found bothon the interior and the exterior surfaces of wallsand in one instance, the interior southwest cor-ner of room 1, a channel running up the coursesin elevation was found to correspond perfectlywith a reference line on the foundation courseimmediately beneath it (fig. 14).72 The quality inworkmanship and construction is also evident inthe cutting and fitting of blocks at the ends of themonumental entrance (fig. 15).

One may conclude that four columns stood acrossthe entranceway step on the basis of the interval (2.15m) between the anta cutting on the easternmost blockof the step and the centerpoint of the first possibleblock (unfortunately missing) where a column couldhave been erected.73 Three test trenches along thefacade74 and other excavations along the interior wallsof the building indicate that the foundations of thefacade were two courses deeper than the foundationsof the lateral and rear walls (fig. 16). In every instance,a sleeper course in blocks of various dimension wasplaced at a right angle to the line of the wall tract inorder to give stability to the overlying structure; then,the courses of more regularly sized blocks set in al-ternating cadence for structural coherence rose outof the ground to become the superstructure. Wherethe bedrock underlying the soil deposit of the Grot-to slope emerged toward the rear portions of thebuilding, efforts had been made to level it and/or todig out foundation trenches for the placement ofthe first sleeper course.

The associated stratigraphy along the facade dem-onstrates the way in which the foundations were

raised—the blocks of the sleeper course were setinto line and then chipped appropriately to createa level surface for the wall; the leftover chips were

71 The term Kπεργν was coined in connection with recentstudy of monumental buildings of the Archaic and Classicalperiods at Selinus, including Temple C and the Malophorossanctuary; see Zoppi 1993. Previously, such channels had beeninterpreted as settings for decorative elements in wood and/or bronze; see Gabrici 1956 and Tusa 1956. Regarding theMalophoros sanctuary, see also Miles 1998.

72 Vertical channels have been noted in several locations:on the building’s exterior at the eastern end of the facade(block II.B.8, 0.095 m wide), on the eastern end of the rearwall (block X.E.1, 0.1 m wide; this block would have been bur-ied against the hillside), on the interior of room 1 at the west-ern end of the southern wall (block II.B.3 mentioned in thetext, 0.1 m wide), and along the eastern wall of the centralcourt (room 2) in the course beneath the doorway into room4 (block V.C.5, 0.085 m wide and block V.C.6, 0.085 m wide fora combined width of 0.17 m). As suggested in relation to thechannels at Selinus (supra n. 71), which appear on buildingsdated to the sixth century B.C., the discovery of the Kπεργνis the result of the incomplete carving of the block surfaces,which was obviated by the application of a surface in plaster.Clear evidence for such finishing is found on the blocks of thewainscot course (course C) along the base of the walls in room2 where traces of plaster cover channels beneath the doorwayinto room 4.

73 Block I.B.10, the block of the step next to the end blockon the eastern side of the entranceway, bears no trace of thesetting for or placement of a column (rather, it is well wornfrom foot traffic); therefore the first logical opportunity forthe placement of a column would be at the center of blockI.B.9, now missing. There would be no sense in placing a col-umn right next to an anta. Apparently, it is not necessary to fixa column on a step through the use of dowels, as one may seein the unworn, circular setting for a column in the so-calledNorthwest Stoa at Morgantina (the author wishes to thankMalcolm Bell III for indicating this feature during a visit toMorgantina).

74 The test trenches along the facade were made: (1) onthe interior at the southwest corner of room 1 (test trench 1),(2) along the exterior in front of room 3 (test trench 2), and(3) on the interior of room 2 (test trench 3) behind the mon-umental entrance. The locations were selected so as not tocompromise the static integrity of the building but neverthe-less to obtain necessary architectural and stratigraphic infor-mation. All three were excavated to the lowest level of thebuilding’s foundations. The position of trench 3, in particular,was chosen in order to test the hypothesis that extra supportwould have been needed in order to reinforce a column, butinstead of finding specific reinforcement it appeared that thesame solid foundation had been given to the entire facade.

Fig. 13. Monumental entrance step


then pitched into the foundation trench; the nextcourse was set; then a layer of soil probably excavat-ed from the foundation trench was pitched backinto the trench, and the chipping process was re-peated. This sequence was repeated at least fourtimes up to ground level.75 Pottery sherds recov-ered from the lower levels of soil in this sequencedo not date beyond the middle of the fifth centuryB.C.76 While one should heed immediately the ca-veat that the number of sherds from trenches islimited and that the trenches themselves were toolimited in size to offer a statistically significant ter-minus post quem for the construction of this build-ing, there is nothing either in the stratigraphy or inthe architectural techniques employed in the con-struction of this building that speaks against its at-

tribution to the period when Palikè was likely theseat of a confederation of cities led by Ducetius.

Reconstruction in ElevationThe walls of the Hestiaterion are preserved in

six courses above the foundations to a maximumheight of about 2.6 m above the original floor levelin room 2.77 Much of the wall structure of the Hesti-aterion may be observed directly, and we are able toinfer much about the structure of the roof, as well.

The bulk of the structure is of ashlar masonry,and demonstrates a high degree of planning andprecision in the selection and combination of wallblocks.78 The notable difference between theheight of course F and the other courses may corre-spond to the placement of windows along the fa-

75 An especially thick layer of chipping debris is associatedwith the placement of the euthynteria and the step in testtrench 3. Although the way in which this debris fills a cut inthe preexisting soil deposit could indicate that the monumen-tal entrance had been added to the structure at a later phasein its history, the way in which the blocks of the entrance fitwithin the system of wall blocks on either side and the difficul-ty inherent in altering not only the walls but also the roof of apreexisting structure would seem to suggest that the prepara-tion of the monumental entrance involved the “re-excavation”of soil deposits that had already built up.

76 The soil strata from each test trench revealed that theconstruction of the Hestiaterion disturbed the preceding ar-chaeological deposit to a great extent. Many of the strata con-tained fragments of prehistoric and protohistoric pottery thatclearly were not contemporary with the building but rather thathad been picked up with the soil matrix and used as fill. Pot-tery fragments that may offer a terminus post quem, however,were recovered from test trench 2 (a fragment of what may

have been a black glazed crater from stratum U.S. 302-I, a cupwith a squashed ring base painted in dark red on the exteriorof the body and the base and on the interior in a circle fromstratum U.S. 302-II) and from test trench 3 (a fragment of animported Attic black glazed vessel datable to the second quar-ter of the fifth century B.C. from stratum U.S. 316). Study ofthe Greek pottery from the sanctuary area is being performedby Dott.ssa Giuseppina Reganati, who has made these prelim-inary identifications.

77 The courses in elevation are B, C, D, E, F, and G.78 From the last course of the foundations, course A, through

the highest preserved course, course G, there is a consistentheight for the blocks in the exterior walls in the followingsequence (rough measurements for each course in meters):(A) 0.42, (B) 0.42, (C) 0.42, (D) 0.41, (E) 0.41, (F) 0.64, (G)0.45. The degree of variation among the heights of which weretaken for each block in the structure is generally less than 1cm and never more than 2 cm.

Fig. 14. NΑπεργν channel on block II.B.3 in alignment with reference line on blockII.A.5 below it, as seen in upper right corner of fig. 16


cade and the sides of the building where this courseis no longer preserved. If this were so, then it is like-ly that the windows were located midway up the walland that the wall was composed originally of 11 cours-

es that varied in height depending on proximity tocourse F, the midpoint in the sequence.79 If this werethe arrangement, then the overall height of the wallwould be just under 5 m above the base of course A.80

The columns along the facade probably were in theDoric order, but no evidence is known for a Doricentablature with an architrave and a frieze.81

Evidence for tile roof construction, on the otherhand, abounds at this site. While few fragments ofroof tiles and other terracotta elements contempo-rary with the construction of the Hestiaterion couldbe recovered from the building itself because of itsheavy reconstruction in Roman times, key frag-ments from other, contemporary structures, includ-ing terracotta pan tiles and cover tiles in the so-called Corinthian system, ridge tiles, antefix frag-ments, and fragments from a terracotta sima pro-vide evidence for a roof system.82 A relatively simplewooden grid of rafters, battens, and purlins mostlikely provided the support structure for the sys-tem of roof tiles.83 Both a hip roof and a gable roofare possible given the layout of the rooms around acentral court, based on the alignment of walls andan excavated stone base. A ridge beam of one ormore dressed timbers could have rested on a postand lintel system that employed both the walls andinterior columns or pillars set on the stone bases.84

A reconstruction of one version of the roofing sys-tem prepared by Learning Sites, Inc. shows what ahip roof may have looked like on the original struc-ture (fig. 17).85

While the forward portions of the Hestiaterionwere completely visible above foundation levels, therear portions were set against the talus slope of the

79 The authors thank Dr. Donald Sanders for constructivediscussion in this regard.

80 The only deviation from this sequence is found alongthe interior of room 2, where the blocks of course C wereonly about 0.3 m in height inasmuch as this course served asthe threshold for each of the doors off the central court intothe lateral and back rooms and as a wainscot along the edgeof the floor of room 2. The blocks of course D above theseshorter blocks were enlarged to about 0.54 m in order to com-pensate for the difference and to reach the level of course Dalong the exterior.

81 Two blocks with a reverse cyma molding were found re-used in later structures built on top of the Hestiaterion, but itis unclear whether these well-dressed blocks pertained origi-nally to the Hestiaterion or to another structure.

82 Most of these elements have been recovered from theremains of Stoa B, which was destroyed apparently at the out-set of the fourth century B.C. after only a relatively short pe-riod of use. Pan tiles would have measured roughly 0.53 × 0.3m in area and 0.0275 m thick with a raised edge 0.035 m thick.Cover tiles with both a semicircular and trapezoidal section0.11 m across were recovered from Stoa B, which could havecovered the joints between adjacent pan tiles. Fragments oflarger ridge tiles with a semicircular section 0.29 m across onthe interior and a double-ring molding were also recovered.

It is not clear whether the co-presence of semicircular andtrapezoidal cover tiles at this site represents roof repair or con-struction in different periods or the use of a so-called hybridroof tile system. For discussion of roof tile terminology andsystems, see Cooper 1989; Wikander 1988; Winter 1993.

83 An example of such a combination in an Archaic buildingfrom Morgantina appears in Kenfield 1990, pl. 36b. For roofdesign terminology, see Klein 1998, 336, fig. 1.

84 We cannot exclude the possibility that a truss system wasused to span the area of room 2, especially since the stone baseseemed to rest on the floor without significant foundation.The interior span of room 2 north–south is 7.212 m and east–west 13.36 m. For discussion of the truss system in Greek archi-tecture, see Klein 1998.

85 The reconstruction presented here is a rendering from athree-dimensional model in virtual reality created by Learn-ing Sites, Inc. for the interpretive center at the site. The Doricorder has been given to the entablature as a suggested, albeitunattested, reconstruction. An alternate reconstruction witha gable roof, which employs a fragmentary geison block foundincorporated into a later wall (supra) has also been prepared. Apreliminary reconstruction with a gable over the colonnadedentranceway has been excluded for the apparent incompati-bility of its diagonal element with points in the plan necessaryfor structural support .

Fig. 15. Lip of block VI.C.1 set on block I.B.1


Grotto, which had been cut back for the construc-tion of the building. The space between the build-ing and the talus slope was filled in with cobble-size stones most likely as a means of directing rain-water and groundwater seepage around the build-ing to drains along the side.86 One drainage chan-nel was found cut into the volcanic rock along thewestern edge of the Grotto, and it led to a relativelyelaborate water channel system further downslope.Although the facade of the building does not dis-play the kind of bowing that one would expect in aGreek temple by the mid fifth century B.C., a slighteast–west pitch in the surface of the euthynteria,and in the remaining blocks of the step, may havedirected water runoff toward that same drainagechannel.87

Layout and Architectural ContextThe architecture of the Hestiaterion and the oth-

er monumental buildings at Palikè must be con-sidered in the context of the landscape of the Grot-to. The Grotto provides a dramatic backdrop to thearchitectural stage of the built sanctuary for thosewho approach it, and once inside the sanctuary thebuildings thrust one’s view out toward the panora-ma of the valley and especially the sacred BoilingLakes.88 The position of the Hestiaterion on thewestern side may be explained in terms of its place-ment along an axis running from the ancient city ofMenai through the natural sanctuary of the formerboiling lakes and into the built sanctuary. Althoughmodern development confuses the landscape fea-tures outside of the Grotto area,89 the Hestiaterionappears to be set at a perfect right angle to thisalignment in such a way that its plan is dividedinto symmetric halves. Furthermore, the same axisalso appears to provide the orientation for Stoa B(approximately 51 m, or twice the length of theHestiaterion) lower down the slope in the samemanner, which also seems to be set symmetricallyacross this fundamental alignment. Stoa FA, whichlies roughly 75 m90 to the south of Stoa B, was laidout to the east of the central axis that links the

Hestiaterion and Stoa B, and it is oriented paral-lel to both of those structures, presumably accord-ing to the same terraced grid plan. In sum, thesignificance of such a coherent plan and align-ment stems from the architectural focus of thesetwo monumental buildings, the Sacred BoilingLakes, and the fact that the Sikel leader Ducetius,who was born at ancient Menai (modern Mineo),provided the principal impetus for its creation.This alignment linking important places in Du-cetius’s life with important places in his sociopo-litical agenda represents the indelible mark of his

86 The width of this space was ca. 0.7 m, and it was filled withstones between 10–20 cm3. Ceramics recovered from the sur-face of this fill pertained to the Roman phases of the build-ing’s use. Deeper exploration of this feature was prohibited byconcern for the physical integrity of the building and the talusslope above it.

87 The pitch drops to the west just under 2 cm over a lengthof roughly 11 m or 0.17%. It was not possible to measure mean-ingful differences in elevation between the corner blocks ofthe building for the pitch of the floor in room 2 toward theexterior.

88 The importance of landscape setting in Greek architec-ture has long been recognized. While the interesting early

theorizing by Doxiadis on nonorthogonal space relationsamong built structures at Archaic and Classical Greek sanctuar-ies (Doxiadis 1972) would seem to provide an intuitive guidefor the analysis of such architecture from the real standpointof a person on the ground, the actual layout of the buildings atPalikè along the single slope below the Grotto would seem tofollow an actual grid intentionally designed at a definite pointin the sanctuary’s history.

89 The sacred Boiling Lakes currently lie beneath an indus-trial plant, which captures natural carbon dioxide for use incarbonated beverages, and the land around it has been alteredheavily by the creation of extensive orange groves.

90 The measurement is planimetric horizontal.

Fig. 16. Trench 1 with foundation blocks exposed alongtracts II and IV


personality and the events of the mid fifth centuryB.C. on the landscape.91

Comparanda for the HestiaterionArchitectural comparanda for both form and func-

tion of the Hestiaterion at Palikè may be found intheater stage and other buildings. Within the com-plex remains of the theater at Eretria, a stage build-ing with four lateral rooms and three back roomsset around an open court-like space may have beenbuilt as early as the fifth century B.C.92 The courtspace remained open to the sky, and the overallarchitectural scheme appears to have been derivedfrom that of a stoa.93 In the fourth century B.C. theopen space was enclosed by a colonnade of fourcolumns and a hip roof, which covered the entirestructure in a manner strikingly similar to the

present reconstruction of the Hestiaterion at Pa-likè (fig. 17).94 The analogy between theater archi-tecture and the landscape setting of the Hestiateri-on at Palikè would seem to be appropriate also tothe building’s placement high on the talus slopeand within the dramatic outline of the Grotto, whichitself functions as a backdrop to the architectural“scene” of the built sanctuary.

Several buildings in the heart of Athens providefurther parallels with features of the Hestiaterionat Palikè. A recent reconstruction of the facade ofthe Old Bouleuterion (dated to the sixth centuryB.C.) shows a colonnade with five columns set flushagainst the facade of the building with flat wall sur-faces extending equally on both sides.95 A hip roofcovers the complex interior with its series of seatsin risers, and windows along the sides of the build-

91 It would not be by chance, then, that ancient writtensources on Palikè speak of his division of the landscape and ofthe topographical definition of Menai in relation to the posi-tion of the ancient sanctuary. Diodorus Siculus writes specifi-cally that Ducetius removed the city of Menai and planted it inthe plain (11.88.6): παρ- τ κιν τν Σικελν θρ!σαςδναµιν Mιλγν τ-ς Μ νας, Pτις Qν αCτ πατρ!ς,µετRκισεν ες τ πεδ!ν and that he “divided the land” (11.90.1:'F γ-ρ ∆υκ τις τν Παλικν κτ!σας κα+ περιλα3Tν αCτνMιλγω τε!ει, κατεκληρησε τν µρν ραν).Stephanos of Byzantium (see Ethnika 1958, 444) definesMenai: Μενα!, πλις Σικελ!ας .γγUς Παλικν.

92 For discussion, see Fiechter 1937, 10–5.93 The court area to the south of the three rooms in the so-

called hestiatorion or prytaneion at Megara Hyblaea may infact have been open to the sky, but it seems unlikely that suchan arrangement existed in the building at Palikè, for the pres-ence of the lateral rooms and the indication of a base for apillar in the central room 2.

94 See the reconstruction in Fiechter 1937, 39, figs. 34–35.Admittedly, the construction of the monumental colonnadewith four columns across the entrance of the Hestiaterion ina second moment offers a parallel, too, although it would seemdifficult to ascribe this to a separate phase of reconstructiongiven the difficulty of integrating such an addition into thestructural fabric of the lateral rooms.

95 For a plan of this building and the restored south eleva-tion, see Shear 1994, 235, figs. 8, 10.

Fig. 17. Hypothetical reconstruction model of the Hestiaterion (Doric order version) inmodern landscape context. (Learning Sites, Inc.)


ing are placed high on the exterior walls in accor-dance with the uppermost rows of seating. Thedecorative rebate bands along the monumentalentrance step into the Hestiaterion find close par-allels in the bands along the steps of the StoaPoikilè. The notion that direct knowledge of Atticarchitectural practices was current among architectsand craftsmen of the fifth century B.C. in Sicily,noted in the monumental propylon of the Malo-phoros sanctuary at Selinus, seems to be the case ineastern Sicily at Palikè as well.96

The Hestiaterion at Rocchicella also is compara-ble to dining facilities in Greece, southern Italy,and Sicily.97 For example, remains found at Delphiand Thasos, dated no later than the mid fifth cen-tury B.C., include structures with one or two diningrooms entered from a pastas-like corridor.98 Whilethese may be smaller versions of stoa-like arrange-ments of dining rooms, a closer relationship existswith the so-called prytaneion form of dining facilityfound at Megara Hyblaea and Palikè. Lateral din-ing rooms entered by way of a monumental en-tranceway or large central room appear within acomplex that has been identified as the Hestiatori-on of the Keans by the Artemision on Delos andthat has been dated between 480 and 460 B.C.99

The lateral dining rooms and a monumental en-tranceway seen at Palikè also exhibit similaritieswith the dining room flanking the monumentalentrance to the Acropolis of Athens in the Propy-laea of Mnesikles.100

A likely contemporary of the Hestiaterion at Pa-likè is the so-called West Building in the Sanctuaryof Hera at Argos.101 In this structure (33.3 × 30.4 m,or 100 × 90 Doric ft.102), three rooms flank the north-

ern side of a closed court that extends out over ahillside. The court in front of the rooms in the WestBuilding at Argos is open and enclosed by a peri-style colonnade. This would seem to be more inkeeping with the addition to the Hestiaterion ofComplex P, which we propose to have been com-posed of two series of rooms set on the eastern andthe western sides of an open peristyle court.103 Asimilar combination of three dining rooms flank-ing a large peristyle court is found in theAsklepeion and Lerna at Corinth and dated after350 B.C., and other complexes of dining roomswithin a larger enclosed complex are found in manylocations in Greece.104 Although its origin is in thefifth century B.C., the enclosed complex with din-ing rooms is a later architectural form than themodel with rooms placed along a simple corridor,the arrangement found in the core structure of theHestiaterion at Palikè. The addition of Complex Pto the Hestiaterion in this context, however, marksthe same trend in the design of dining facilitiesobserved in these other locations.

Closer to Sicily the development of dining com-plexes follows the same pattern, and the reasonsfor such developments may lie in an overall in-creased frequency of extramural cult sanctuariesand in the use of such sanctuaries by political or-ganizations. At Locri, the U-shaped Stoa in theCentocamere district, which dates originally to thesixth century B.C. with later additions, is com-posed of a series of dining rooms set around awide-open area.105 The sanctuary of Hera Laciniaat Capo Colonna near Croton includes two build-ings, each distinct but with a similar plan basedon a series of rooms set around a central court,

96 For the decorative rebate along the steps of the StoaPoikilè, supra. For discussion of Attic relations and “interna-tionalism” in the monumental propylon at the Malophorossanctuary, see Miles 1998, 53–7.

97 The bibliography for dining facilities in Aegean Greeceand the West is vast, and they include both individual build-ings and rooms within larger, multifunctional complexes. SeeBookidis and Stroud 1997; Boerker 1983; Frickenhaus 1917;Goldstein 1978; Heermann 1984; Will 1976. Dining facilitiesare found usually in the context of sanctuaries. For surveys ofGreek sanctuaries in the West, see Bergquist 1990; Leone 1998.

98 A similar building of Hellenistic date is found at Perachora.See Boerker 1983, 14–6, 24–5, figs. 7–9.

99 The building, which unfortunately is poorly preserved, hasbeen identified from a reference in Herodotus (4.35). See Roux1973, 526, 534–48, fig. 1; Boerker 1983, 16–7, 27, fig. 11.

100 For a summary description of the dining room in thePropylaea of Mnesikles, see Lauter 1986, fig. 1b.

101 Originally dated to the Archaic period in the monumen-tal edition The Argive Heraeum (Tilton 1902), more recent dis-cussion places this building in the second half of the fifth cen-tury B.C. (Miller 1973).

102 The concept of building design based at least in part onan integral measurement of 100 units may be shared in theHestiaterion at Palikè.

103 The comparison between the West Building at Argos andComplex P at Palikè may be extended as well to the high plat-forms, which anticipate as well those found at the later, Helle-nistic sanctuaries of Jupiter Anxur at Terracina (see Coarelli1987, 113–40) and Fortuna Primagenia at Palestrina (see Del-brueck 1907).

104 The dining couches in the building at Corinth, as in theWest Building at Argos, are greater in number than those pos-tulated for the larger lateral rooms of the Hestiaterion at Pa-likè, and at Corinth they are clearly cut from a single block ofstone. See Roebuck 1951, 51–7. Notable examples of enclosedperistyle complexes with dining room components appear atBrauron, Epidauros, Olympia, and Troizen; see Will 1976, 355,fig. 2 (Brauron); Boerker 1983, 17, 29, 32, fig. 13 (Troizen),fig. 17 (Epidauros); and Heermann 1984.

105 Barra Bagnasco 1977; Gullini 1980, 111–27. A U-shapedstoa with dining rooms dated most likely between 430–420 B.C.is found in the Sanctuary of Artemis at Brauron in Attica; Buben-heimer and Mylonopoulos 1996.


which are described as a hestiaterion and a kata-gogion.106 Construction of these dining and lodg-ing facilities at Capo Colonna in the fourth centu-ry B.C. is associated apparently with the creationof a league of Greek cities, which was based at thisfamous Greek sanctuary.107 By analogy, the connec-tion between dining and political activities at Pa-likè, albeit during the preceding century, wouldseem all the more likely. Dining facilities also havebeen identified within the complex of the Malo-phoros sanctuary at Selinus, and Diodorus Sicu-lus mentions the presence of a 60-couch facilitybuilt by Agathocles at Syracuse.108 The languageused by Diodorus demonstrates that the wordskatagogeion, and hestiaterion or hestiatorion, werenever used in his text; he provides no distinctionfor this splendid structure further than one of thekataluseis (“adornments”) that were present at thesite.109 The lack of a precise architectural term forthis kind of building may be a result of the muta-ble nature of its design and its apparent transfor-mation during the Hellenistic period from a struc-ture rooted in the concept of a stoa or a stage build-ing into a larger complex dominated by a peri-style court at a sanctuary which, despite the defeatof Ducetius and his federation of Sikel cities inthe mid fifth century B.C., never lost its image as apolitical point of reference.

Stoas B and FAStoa B consists of a series of rooms that were cut

back into the preexisting archaeological depositand in places into the underlying volcanic bedrockof the slope below the Grotto. A large drainage chan-nel was cut into the bedrock just above the build-ing and flowed into the same channel that carriedwater down from the area of the Hestiaterion.110

Dividing walls presumably led out toward a colon-nade or other form of facade, which unfortunatelyhas not survived in any of the areas examined so far.

The four rooms defined by these walls to date havea regular, rectangular plan; three are roughly 5 mwide (rooms 31, 34, and 35), while the fourth (room36) is wider.111 A series of cuttings in the bedrocksuggest where the southern walls may have beenset, with a depth also of about 5 m and therefore asquare plan. This plan would be consistent bothwith room construction in the Hestiaterion and inmany other Greek stoa buildings.

The rear wall of Stoa B was constructed in a dis-tinctive technique that employed both blocks ofsandy limestone cut regularly (but not squared asin ashlar masonry) and smaller stones that were usedto fill the spaces between the blocks (fig. 18). Some-times smaller stones were used alone as a regularfacing either for blocks or for the bedrock that hadbeen cut back in somewhat irregular surfaces. Atplaces where the volcanic bedrock provided a solidbase, the surface of the rock simply was leveled withsingle or double flattened cuttings for the stableplacement of the built portion of the wall. From thewidth of these cuttings, a total width of 0.86 m forthe exterior wall of Stoa B was determined.

A trench dug to the east of the principal excavat-ed area of Stoa B has revealed a wall segment inparallel rows of irregular fieldstones, the interiorface of which is in perfect alignment with that ofthis rear wall. This segment seemed to mark theend of the building, which was closed by a wall com-ing out at right angles roughly 51 m from the west-ern end of Stoa B (this is twice the length of theHestiaterion), but this construction was in mud-brick and reused fragments of terracotta pan andcover tiles.112

Stoa B suffered destruction early on—roof tilesin the so-called Corinthian system were found insitu where they had fallen. This structure was leftin ruins, but there is reason to believe that the tiledeposit had been raided in an effort to recover re-maining whole tiles.113 All of the ceramics found in

106 Seiler 1984, 1996; D’Arrigo 1996. A somewhat similararrangement of rooms around a peristyle court dated betweenthe end of the third and the first century B.C. (the so-calledpriests’ houses) was found in the Sanctuary of Apollo Aleo tothe north of Croton (Orsi 1933, 18–9, 42–50, with fig. 16).

107 De Sensi Sestito 1984.108 For recent discussion of dining rooms in the Malophoros

sanctuary: Miles 1998, 40, no. 12. The text of Diod. Sic. (16.83)reads: .ν µ%ν τα*ς Συρακσσαις & κατ- τν Νσν Vκς& LMηκντκλινς 6νµαWµενς, τν κατ- τν Σικελ!αν7ργων Xπερα!ρων τR µεγ θει κα+ τ8 κατασκευ8, ?νκατεσκεασε µ%ν 0Αγαθκλς & δυν-στης, δι- δ% τ 3ρςτν 7ργων Xπερα!ρων τUς τν θεν ναUς, .πισηµασ!ας7τυεν Xπ τ δαιµν!υ κεραυνωθε!ς. No trace of this struc-ture has been found at Syracuse to date.

109 See the entry for κατλυσις in McDougall 1983.

110 This channel also served probably to collect rainwaterfalling from the roof of Stoa B.

111 The dividing wall on the eastern side of room 36 has notyet been excavated.

112 Further excavation along this closing alignment revealedan intriguing series of mud bricks set in a single course aboveregularly spaced reinforcements of cobbles packed around asingle mud brick (U.S. 647). The mud bricks were roughly 0.48× 0.5 × 0.065 m and yellowish in color (Munsell 2.5Y 6/4–6/6). While the reinforcement at intervals might suggest thelocation of supports or columns, defining the precise architec-tural character of this feature should await further excavation.

113 A statistical study of the tiles in room 31, which wereremoved and catalogued according to a meter-square grid, re-vealed fragments of pan tiles, smaller cover tiles with both cir-cular and trapezoidal sections, and larger cover tiles with circu-


the deposit of tiles or in the deposit sealed imme-diately beneath it offer a rather homogeneous con-text between 430–420 B.C., a probable date for thelast use of the building.114 Several architectural ter-racottas, most likely fallen from the roof of the orig-inal structure, were also recovered from this depos-it, including antefix and sima fragments that recallthose from Greek cities, particularly Syracuse, inthe choice of motifs and colors and in the quality oftheir execution (figs. 19–20).115 Analysis of wood

samples recovered from the deposit of tiles indi-cates the presence of white pine (Abies alba) and inparticular a species endemic to the Nebrodes moun-tain range along the northern shore of Sicily (Abiesnebrodensis).116

Stoa FA was discovered beneath the historic farmbuildings, which have been renovated for use as aninterpretive center.117 This long building may havebeen erected along a road that ran around the sa-cred Boiling Lakes, thus providing an architectur-

lar sections and long iron nails. Although it was hoped thatsuch a study would reveal clear patterns in the fall of the roof,the somewhat chaotic arrangement of the tiles and the lack ofany tile in whole or almost whole condition would suggest thatthe deposit had been disturbed.

114 The number of ceramics recovered from Stoa B offersmore consistent dating evidence than that recovered from theHestiaterion. Significant identifiable fragments from stratumU.S. 508 (deposit of roof tiles) include a ring-based cup withblack glaze datable to the third quarter of the fifth centuryB.C., and a conical cup with a vertical lip datable to the lastquarter of that century. From stratum U.S. 520 on the actualfloor surface of Stoa B (U.S. 509) there were recovered frag-ments of a black glazed bolsal cup with incised and stampeddecoration datable to about 430 B.C. and two circular lampsdatable to the middle of the fifth century B.C.

115 Close parallels in the rendering of the volute can be madewith palmette antefixes from Gela, Megara Hyblaea, and espe-cially Syracuse; see Pelagatti 1977, 65, fig. 21; and Castoldi 1998,78–80, esp. cat. 40. A similar, although not identical, fragment

of a terracotta sima was recovered from the neighboring site ofMonte Catalfaro in 1998 (Soprintendenza BB.CC.AA. di Cata-nia site inv. Mcat. 98/31). In the fragments from Palikè onedoes not find the inconsistent coordination between the ga-ble motif and the surface to be decorated nor the sloppy work-manship that has been attributed to indigenous imitation ofGreek architectural choroplastics in examples from Gram-michele and Paternò; see La Rosa 1967; Castoldi 1998, 33, cats.26, 35. A useful color illustration of the antefix from Gram-michele appears in La Rosa 1989, 46, fig. 67.

116 Castiglioni 2001. This timber would have been a finechoice for the construction of a wooden roof. The importanceof the Nebrodes white pine in this era is underscored by itsrepresentation on the reverse of a well-known silver tet-radrachm of Aitna (Catania) together with seated Zeus andan eagle (Etna Mito d’Europa 1997, 106, fig. 166; Holloway1968, 91).

117 The label FA is derived from the Italian term fattoria, orfarm, for the later building of the 18th century, which waserected on top of it.

Fig. 18. Rear wall of Stoa B, room 6 with uprights for table; in stratigraphic succession with wall U.S. 49 and burndeposit


al border between the area of the lakes and thebuilt sanctuary.118 The back wall of the building (55cm wide) was constructed in a masonry techniquesimilar to that of the so-called North Stoa at Mor-gantina using a combination of small stones andirregularly cut larger blocks (much more irregularthan those of the back wall of Stoa B).119 Walls at acadence of about 8 m divide the structure into units,which themselves are divided by a principle of halv-ing.120 The rooms face out onto a walkway about 2.35m wide, which is flanked on the southern side byan 80 cm thick foundation wall. The total width ofthe structure would be, therefore, about 8.45 mfront to back.121

A limited sounding along the southern side ofthe foundation wall revealed that it consisted of anupper portion 0.52 m high in smaller stones and alower portion 0.38 m high in two courses of some-what larger stones. It resembles very closely the foun-dation (soletta) for the colonnade of the Hellenis-tic stoa along the northern side of the agora at Mega-ra Hyblaea.122 In Stoa FA, too, this construction mostlikely served the same function—a course of stoneslabs would have been set across the surface of thisfoundation as the actual stylobate for the colonnade.Although the soletta in Stoa FA appears at a slightlyhigher elevation than the apparent floors of therooms, the difference is never more than about 20cm, and a level colonnade may have served to maskdifferences in elevation among the actual floors ofthe rooms behind it.123

Preliminary study of the ceramics and other ma-terials recovered from the floor levels and trenchesalong the walls of this building suggest a date for itslast use in the fourth century B.C.124 As in the caseof Stoa B, the date of its initial construction and thevarious phases within the history of its existenceare unclear.

Complex P and Hellenistic Transformation ofthe Hestiaterion

Complex P125 is constructed in heavy, rough-cut blocks of local volcanic stone, which rest alongits southern side (wall U.S. 49) upon the rearwall of Stoa B, utilizing it as a foundation. Today,the 1.05 m wide wall U.S. 49, which served as aterrace wall, extends for at least 50 m across theslope of the Grotto parallel to both the alignmentof Stoa B and that of the Hestiaterion. Departingfrom this terrace wall and proceeding upslopetoward the Hestiaterion are walls in blocks of sim-ilar material, which seem to have served as the

118 For general discussion of ancient roads in the vicinity ofthe Naftia Lake, see Adamesteanu 1962, 174–81. Traces of aroad running along the western base of the Rocchicella hill(which appear juridically as a municipal thoroughfare) andcuttings apparently for the continuation of this road througha rocky outcrop on the neighboring Milo property seem to forman alignment coordinated with that of Stoa FA.

119 For the North Stoa at Morgantina, see Sposito et al. 1995,40–2 (this building was identified originally as a gymnasium;Sjoeqvist 1962, 136–7).

120 Such subdivision by halving may well be the product oflater modification to an earlier structure with a simpler plan.

121 The full extent of this structure has been found at itswestern end, and clearly it still continues to the east. A radarsurvey performed in November by Professors Frank Vento andGary D’Urso of Clarion University of Pennsylvania along thepresumed alignment of this building has revealed that it may

have extended to a total length of about 100 m.122 For the structure at Megara Hyblaea, see Vallet et al. 1983.123 Furthermore, a raised stylobate would help to preserve

columns in wood from rotting through contact with nearby soil,although there is no proof that such columns were in wood.

124 For procedural reasons during the course of excava-tion it was not possible to sample the foundation deposits ofthis structure in any systematic way. Significant ceramic frag-ments from an undisturbed stratum (U.S. 83) include anunpainted cup and an unpainted pitcher of the first half ofthe fourth century B.C. From stratum U.S. 149, which cov-ered the foundation trench of wall U.S. 88, the foundation(soletta) for the proposed colonnade, a fragment of a blackglazed lekythos was recovered datable to the first half ofthe fifth century B.C.

125 The letter honors Dott.ssa Paola Pelagatti whose excava-tions first uncovered it.

Fig. 19. Terracotta antefix GR612


foundations for rooms set on either side of anopen central court. The court area is defined bythe remains of a roughly square arrangement offoundation walls also in local volcanic stone.126

The outermost walls are perfectly aligned as thecontinuation of the short eastern and westernexterior walls of the Hestiaterion, and it seemsthat Complex P served as an extension of theHestiaterion in a platform structure, whichloomed out over the built sanctuary.

The stratigraphy along the southern side ofwall U.S. 49 provides a date in the Hellenisticperiod for the construction of Complex P.127 Aterminus post quem in the fourth century B.C. isoffered clearly by the destruction of Stoa B uponwhich this wall rests.128 A terminus ante quem isoffered by a thick deposit of ash and burnt soilthat was deposited against the southern face ofwall U.S. 49. This deposit was full of animal bones,ceramics, and other finds dated to the second

century B.C., and it seems to have been createdintentionally over a short period of time. Perhapsit represents the kind of sacrifices that are de-scribed by Diodorus in connection with the Sec-ond Slave Revolt.129 Despite the two centuries be-tween these termini, such dating does provide acontrast with the Classical date for constructionof the Hestiaterion.

Erosion and pastoral activity prior to excavationhas greatly reduced the height of the walls of Com-plex P, which once must have reached the level ofthe street that runs in front of the Hestiaterionand served as foundations for the walls of roomsthat can only be defined barely in plan.130 On thewestern side of Complex P the outcrop of volcanicbedrock had been cut to a flat plane, which wouldhave intersected the rising exterior foundation atprecisely the level of the street, and low-lying ar-eas between this outcrop and the wall may havecontained an earth and rubble fill. On the eastern

126 This structure was interpreted initially as the remains ofan Archaic temple in part on the basis of ceramic finds thatnow can be attributed to the earlier levels that underlie it.

127 The author wishes to acknowledge the careful excava-tion and analysis of this stratigraphy by field archaeologist Dott.Fabrizio Nicoletti.

128 Although the rear wall of Stoa B seems to have been rebuiltin places in order to unify the juncture between it at the base

of wall U.S. 49, the architectural succession from one structureto the other is evident consistently at many other points.

129 Diod. Sic. (36.7.1) mentions a sacrifice made by the rebelslave leader Salvius somewhere in the territory of Leontinoiand quite likely at the Sanctuary of the Divine Palikoi (supra).

130 In only one location—at the corner formed by walls U.S.44 and U.S. 45—is there a block in calcarenite, which may havebeen part of the building’s superstructure.

Fig. 20. Terracotta sima fragment GR429


side of this complex a square column in volcanicstone filled with rubble may have reinforced theexposed eastern flank of the terrace founda-tions.131 This eastern wall and the southern wallU.S. 49 may have been the only elements of theterrace foundations not enveloped in earth andrubble fill which would have guaranteed the struc-ture further support.132

Despite the degree of conjecture required toenvision the original form and purpose of the foun-dations of Complex P, the plan illustrates the wayin which this structure follows the primary measure-ments and construction modules of the Hestiateri-on. The width is identical, 25.5 m from its easternto its western flank. Each group of lateral roomsproposed for the foundations on either side of thecentral court are each equal to the overall lengthand width of the group of rooms along the back ofthe court in the Hestiaterion (rooms 6–8), that is,14.4 × 4.78 m. The overall width of the foundationsfor the central court of Complex P east–west, 11.885m, is equal to that of the monumental entrance tothe Hestiaterion. Despite poor preservation of thearchaeological remains, it is possible that ComplexP consisted of groups of two or three rooms eachalong the eastern and the western sides of a centralcourt, perhaps with a colonnade around a square,open space and a covered walkway along the south-ern side open out toward the breathtaking panora-ma of the sacred Boiling Lakes.

palikè: an alternative center of powerA monumental sanctuary such as that at Palikè

cannot exist in a vacuum, in complete isolation fromthe institutions that governed Sikel society. A com-parison of sociopolitical institutions of the Sikels

with the architecture of the sanctuary would revealmuch about sociopolitical organization, but the rareSikel inscriptions and the accounts of Greek writ-ers offer little more than circumstantial evidencefor the structure of Sikel society and impressionsabout the way in which it functioned.133

The few Sikel inscriptions that exist do repre-sent a direct source.134 The only monumental writ-ing that is preserved is a stone inscription from thesite of Mendolito, near Adrano on the southernslopes of Mount Etna.135 It was found set into thefortification wall of this extensive settlement at agate, and it is dated to the second half of the sixthcentury B.C. The provenance, as well as three wordsin the text, seem to indicate civic institutions andperhaps even a specific civic area within the settle-ment.136 Comparison between these terms and thosefor political institutions known among Italic peo-ples of central Italy suggest that there was a largeassembly and a smaller group within it.137

Whether the institutions alluded to in the Men-dolito inscription were “autochthonous” in theirorigin, or whether they in some way were influencedby, if not directly modeled on, Greek institutions, isunclear; nonetheless, Sikel society was reasonablycomplex in its organization. By the fourth centuryB.C., there were distinct organs of governmentamong the Elimi, another indigenous people lo-cated in western Sicily, as attested in the somewhatmysterious bronze inscriptions from Entella.138

These documents, which were written in Greek,contain numerous declarations regarding equalright to citizenship (σπλιτε!α), military alliance(συµµα!α), the right to sit in the front row of thetheater (πρεδρ!α), and invitations to participatein sacrifices and contests approved by an assembly

131 The volcanic stones along the eastern side of wall U.S.196, in fact, display an unusually smooth surface, which mayhave been worked to a greater degree than the surfaces of theother foundation walls precisely because it was visible.

132 Preliminary evaluation of the Complex P foundation byNicholas Raddell under supervision of the Department of En-gineering of the University of Dayton suggests that the staticcharacteristics of wall 49 could have been sufficient to with-stand the potential vector forces produced by the weight ofthe solid wall itself and the presumed fill of earth and stonerubble behind it to a height of roughly 6 m.

133 For discussion on the structure of Sikel society, see LaRosa 1989, 89–100; Holloway 1991, 86–96.

134 Unlike Oscan and Latin, which are languages closelyrelated to that of the Sikels and which were written also inscripts derived from Greek alphabets, the corpus of Sikel writ-ing is far less perhaps because the Sikels themselves simply didnot develop their own language extensively as a written medi-um. One may attribute this perhaps to a precocious and over-

bearing diffusion of Greek throughout Sicily—Sikel as a writ-ten language would seem to have been nipped in the bud(Agostiniani 1997).

135 Pelagatti 1964–1965 (first publication, with many illus-trations).

136 The terms are: touta- and akara-, which appear pairedin the same way as the Oscan touta- and ocri-, and verega-,which is similar to vereiia/verehi in Oscan and poplo- in Um-brian; Durante 1964–1965, 439–43; Parlangèli 1964–1965,222–6.

137 The akara- (interpreted as the Greek Kκρα, “high place”or the Latin arx, “rock” or “citadel”) would be the location wherethe touta- met, and the verega- would be a subdivision of thetouta with a military connotation similar to that of the Latiniuventes; Prosdocimi and Agostiniani, 1976–1977, 242–3; LaRosa 1989, 93.

138 Relevant texts with earlier bibliography are found in Nenci1993.


(Y Zλ!α) and a council (Y 3υλ2) and enacted byleaders ( Kρντες). The decrees were inscribedin bronze for display either in a council house(3υλευτ2ριν) or in a so-called Temple of Hestia(τ ερν τ-ς 'Ιστ!ας).139 Unlike Greek cities, how-ever, there were also non-Greek, Elymnian juridi-cal procedures, including the nomination of threewise men who resolved conflicts over property rightsby a complicated system of lots.140 The ease withwhich the political structure at Entella was ex-pressed in Greek most likely reflects a significantdegree of “hellenization.”141 While it is only specu-lative to project Elimnian institutions a century ear-lier, and furthermore among a distinctly differentpeople in another part of the island, evidence sug-gests that they descend from the kind of institu-tions inferred from the Mendolito text.

The surviving Greek writers, on the other hand,were separated from the actual events and sociopo-litical schemes of the Sikels. The term Sikel itself,like the other names that Greek writers used for thenon-Hellenic, indigenous peoples of Sicily, proba-bly hides in its generic character a great many dif-ferences and divisions that were evident and im-portant.142 Diodorus Siculus, writing over four cen-turies after Ducetius at a time when Sicily was firmlyunder Roman control, leaves us with two impres-sions. First, the Sikels appear to be an amorphousgroup of individual towns rather than a cohesive

body.143 By describing Sikel centers as αCτνµυς,Diodorus (e.g., 14.7.5) places them outside any sortof state-like hierarchy—only the συντ λεια promot-ed by Ducetius resembled anything more com-plex.144 Second, when a common effort was made bythe Sikels, one or more cities apparently could dis-sent without suffering any significant sanction.145

Within each Sikel town, allegiance appears to havebeen a tribal matter with loyalties following lines offamilial descent.146 Two monumental tombs in con-trada Caratabia, which lies in the hills to the east ofMenai and certainly within the territory of ancientPalikè, illustrate the importance of family line andprominent ancestors in this age.147 One of the tombshas a large rear chamber where a limited number ofbodies may have been laid to rest, while both havelarge main chambers that may have been visited reg-ularly for remembrance or religious observances.At least two phases of incised drawings, dated rough-ly to the fifth century B.C., decorate the walls of thesemain chambers. The first is a series of concentriccircles, grain motifs, and other schematic figures;the second, superimposed on some of the originalincisions, includes figural drawings (interpreted ashorses, some with riders, and other human and an-imal figures) in complex compositions that may rep-resent specific narratives (fig. 21).148

The complexity of the structures at Palikè con-tradicts the superficial impressions provided by the

139 What form would such a structure take? While the nor-mal translation of the word ερν as “temple” brings to mind aperipteral structure, the Greek itself leaves much greater roomfor architectural form, including perhaps that of an hestiateri-on (Giangiulio 1982, 945–63).

140 This is found in the so-called Nakona decree (DecreeIII); Nenci 1997, 585.

141 Other legal terms regarding intermarriage and politicalequivalence between citizens of Greek Selinus and ElymnianSegesta, which appear in the Entella decrees and which arementioned in Thucydides (6.6.2) would lead one to believethat the Elymnian centers had a relatively complex politicalstructure; Marconi 1997, 1094–5.

142 It has been suggested that the name Ducetius is not somuch a name as it is a title similar to the Latin dux (Agostiniani1988–1989, 191–2). We read in Diod. Sic. (14.16) also of an-other presumably Sikel leader, the head of the town Herbite-ia, who is named Archonides, a title taken directly from theGreek word for “leader.”

143 Outside parties often resorted to individual treaties witheach city rather than a single treaty with the “Sikels” as awhole; e.g., Magon the Carthaginian general (Diod. Sic.14.96.3). Likewise, Dionysius I had to make treaties with oth-er tyrants (Agyrion of Agyris) and dynasts (τν δυναστενταΚεντριπ!νων) who may have been figures somewhat likehimself, as well as with other groups which are described onlywith a collective name, such as the Herbiteians, the Assorians,the Cephalaedians, Solunto (an Elymnian city), Enna, and the

Herbessians (Diod. Sic. 14.78.7). On another occasion all ofthe Sikels allied with Carthage, except for the Assorians (Diod.Sic. 14.58.1).

144 The choice by Diodorus of the term συντ λεια —a com-mon end—may be significant in that it reflects the commonend that bound them to a greater extent than any particularinstitutional obligation.

145 When a battle became disadvantageous, the Sikels seemedto have the option of escaping to safety in their respectivetowns (Diod. Sic. 14.75.5 and 14.75.7–8). Diod. Sic. (14.59.1)would have us think also that there was a tendency toward massaction or mob-rule in the way the Sikels held Tauromenionwithout a true leader or a clear line of command.

146 Bloodlines and extended family probably were the basicsocial and political units within each community. Decision-making may have followed an age-based hierarchy, but it wouldappear that self-assertion was also an important element ingovernance—Ducetius is described as “famous for his familyline” (Diod. Sic. 11.78.11), but it would seem that he had towin rule over the Sikels through a contest of power with otherindividuals or even groups that we do not know.

147 These tombs were first published by Messina (1965), andthey are now the subject of a documentation project by theSuperintendency of Catania. Similar illustrations are found atCava d’Ispica (Di Stefano 1988–1989, 103ff., fig. 10).

148 La Rosa (1989, 90, with partial illustration on page 97, pl.XII) describes the tombs as heroa and the figures of horsemenas a sign of an equestrian elite in Sikel society.


literary sources, and requires a more nuanced ex-planation. The position of the Hestiaterion atopa series of terraces accentuates it visually and alsoemphasizes its functions.149 The kinds of functionsthat Diodorus himself mentions in connection withthe Palikè sanctuary fit closely those that were asso-ciated with the Greek prytaneion.150

Comparisons with the Greek PrytaneionThe prytaneion was a place where meals were

served. Dining in ancient Greek culture is tradi-tionally associated with both religious and politi-cal activities, and dining at state expense was con-sidered to be among the highest privileges that aGreek polis could offer, although the actual mealwas not necessarily sumptuous.151 This importantfeature of Greek civic life may be explained atPalikè as a feature of hellenizing imitation, but it

may well have older indigenous roots and havebeen an important means of intercommunal po-litical bonding.152 That such dining could alsoserve the needs of political gatherings is obviousand well attested for Greek city-states. In the amor-phous political world of the Sikel indigenous cen-ters a structured place would have been necessaryin order for such bodies to reach more complexdecisions, and the usefulness of the Hestiaterionat Palikè might lie in the flexibility of its design.Each room could accommodate 7 to 14 individu-als per room, one or two to a couch. The four ma-jor dining rooms of the building thus offer an ex-tensive series of dining combinations, a kind offlexibility that is well adapted to the loosely bond-ed Sikel communities.

The Greek prytaneion also served as a reposito-ry for civic memorabilia (more like a civic muse-

149 The prominence of the Hestiaterion, instead of a tem-ple or other clearly religious structure, would seem to differen-tiate the layout of the sanctuary at Palikè from those at mostGreek sanctuaries where the dining structure was placed nearentranceways or in other, subordinate positions (C. Marconi).

150 Regarding the prytaneion in general, see Hansen andFischer-Hansen (1994) and Miller (1978, with earlier bibliog-raphy). The prytaneion seems to be associated with the sym-bolic hearth of a Greek city (Miller 1978, 13–6), although thereare enough literary and epigraphic sources to suggest that some-times the “sacred place of Hestia” (τ ερν τ-ς 'Ιστ!ας) was inanother location (Giangiulio 1982, 946). Although there is noapparent symbolic hearth in the building at Palikè, this lackmay be explained by the fact that the building was located ina sanctuary and not a true civic center. The presence of the“Boiling Lakes” themselves might be considered to represent

an equivalent, perhaps even a superior, natural force.151 Miller (1978, 4–13) describes three categories of meals

commonly mentioned in Greek literary and epigraphic sourc-es. The category varied according to the status of the diner,including foreign guests and honored local citizens, as well asthe members of the executive councils, the prytaneis.

152 Aristotle, who lived within a century of the Hestiateri-on’s creation, writes about common meals in southern Italy (Pol.7.9.2.1329b). Archaeological evidence for common banquetsin early Italy, not only in funerary contexts but also in the lay-out of domestic buildings, seem to date at least as early as theBronze Age (Maniscalco 1999b; McConnell 1993). Studiesconcerning the spread of the Greek symposium, however,exercise caution universally in the equation of indigenous andGreek dining practices; see Lombardo (1988, 280, n. 57) andAlbanese Procelli (1991, 105, n. 22).

Fig. 21. Incised horse from Grotta Caratabia (Mineo)


um than a city archives building).153 Such itemswere dedicated at Palikè, from the bronze belt withits dedicatory inscription of the fourth century B.C.perhaps to the robe with a purple border (a Ro-man toga praetextus?) that was said to have beendedicated by the leader of rebellious slaves,Salvius, late in the second century B.C.154 No suchcivic memorabilia has been found in situ;155 how-ever, a likely location for such dedications wouldbe room 7, the central room in the group of small-er rooms at the back of the Hestiaterion directlyopposite its monumental entrance (fig. 22). Alarge concave niche with a flat, horizontal base wascarved into the back wall of this room. Clearly laterthan the setting of the wall blocks into which it wascarved, it nonetheless may represent an active ele-ment in the building’s original design.156 Holeswere drilled into the same rear wall through thepreparatory and finishing layers of its plaster sur-face, some of which clearly were intended to facil-itate the removal of the wall blocks (and thereforedate to after the building had been abandoned),others are found in areas away from the course andindividual block interfaces. Several groupings ofthree or four holes can be recognized in roughlytriangular or quadrangular arrangements. Couldthese be holes for nails or pins similar, for exam-ple, to those which presumably held (or were meantto hold) bronze plaques of the sort known fromEntella? A similar variety of holes does not appearin the remaining blocks of the rear wall of room6—only holes along the interfaces.157 Perhaps ded-ications or decrees and even small works of sculp-ture were displayed in this central room.

The prytaneion was used for special legal trials,including those of a serious nature such as certain

forms of homicide.158 Many literary sources describethe juridical and oracular functions of the Sanctu-ary of the Divine Palikoi.159 Recourse to the Palikoiwas called for in controversies regarding not onlytheft but especially in more serious cases. The ju-ridical power of the lakes lay more in the determi-nation of guilt through a process of ordeal than itdid in cleansing whatever wrong-doing had beencommitted.160 The statement by Diodorus that theSanctuary of the Divine Palikoi, at least in Romantimes, was a place of refuge for runaway slaves cor-responds to the function of the prytaneion as a placeof sanctuary.161

Furthermore, the physical form of the Hestiate-rion at Palikè is consonant with certain physicalcharacteristics of a prytaneion.162 The Greek pyrta-neion is located along or near the agora, and in thecase of Palikè, the Hestiaterion lies near the centerof the site—the so-called sacred plain with the Boil-ing Lakes. The prytaneion typically has a courtyardwith a peristyle; the large, covered room 2 of theHestiaterion corresponds with this description.Likewise, the same room 2 could be consideredthe vestibule or anteroom in front of the more sig-nificant rooms set around it. The building at Pa-likè has at least four dining rooms and subsidiaryrooms, at least one of which may have been the equiv-alent of a Hestia hall,163 and we have speculatedalready on the placement of moveable cult objectsand memorabilia.

The use of the Palikè sanctuary as an explicitpolitical center was a short-lived phenomenon ofthe fifth century B.C. when Ducetius led the Sikelsin an apparently tyrant-like manner. Following thedefeat of Ducetius, we hear no more of the Sikelσυντ λεια—only the resistance and eventual de-

153 Miller 1978, 16–7.154 Supra and n. 14.155 A fragment of a bronze belt was found in Stoa B, room 6

during the current excavations.156 From a technical standpoint it seems to have been a reg-

ular construction practice in this structure first to lay the blocksof the wall courses and only then to carve in features such assteps and other cuttings. This is clear in room 6, in which thecutting of the step across two blocks of the threshold revealedthe hollow space left at the interface by anathyrosis.

157 Inasmuch as room 8 has not been excavated, we cannotmake any comparison on the other side of the central room 7.

158 Miller (1978, 18–9, 22f.) discusses the “primitive quality”of decisions concerning inanimate defendants, such as a rooftile that had fallen accidentally and killed someone, whichpresumably would derive from such a court’s early, pre-polisorigin.

159 For the oracular aspect of the sanctuary, Manni 1983,414–5 and infra.

160 Bello 1960, 81–9.161 For welfare functions of the prytaneion, see Miller 1978,

19–20. The text in Diod. Sic. 11.89.6 implies that the sanctu-

ary had not always been used for asylum: 7στι δ% ττ ττ µενς 7κ τινων ρνων [for some time] Kσυλντετηρηµ νν. Regarding the important function of Greeksanctuaries as places of refuge, see articles by Schumacher,Sinn, and Marinatos, in Marinatos and Hägg 1993. Schuma-cher, in particular, notes that asylum was not necessarily oneof the original functions of the helots’ Sanctuary of Posei-don at Tainaron in Laconia but rather one which came intobeing over time following the Spartan take-over of Messinia.An analogous situation may have arisen at the Sanctuary ofthe Divine Palikoi.

162 Miller (1978, 29–36) lists the physical features of a pry-taneion as including a courtyard, a prostas (vestibule or ante-room), a dining room (hestiatorion), a Hestia hall, subsidiaryrooms, and moveable items such as statuary.

163 It would be convenient to associate the “Hestia hall” of aprytaneion with both the ερν τ-ς 'Ιστ!ας mentioned repeat-edly in the Entella decrees and etymological base of the wordhestiaterion itself. Unfortunately, the textual evidence for the“sacred place of Hestia” is neither clear nor unambiguous (Gi-angiulio 1982, 945–63).


feat of the Sikels at Trinakie.164 Nevertheless, thefifth century B.C. was crucial to the physical forma-tion of the sanctuary. The lines of the layout andthe actual buildings constructed at that time would

remain constant features of the sanctuary for cen-turies to come. It is ironic that, whereas in the Greekpoleis it was the tyrant who reduced the complexityof government either by abrogating it or by banaliz-

164 Supra, n. 42.

Fig. 22. Rear wall of Hestiaterion room 7 with niche and various holes. (M. Puglisi)


ing its institutions, in Sikel society it was the tyrantwho seems to have promoted complex organiza-tion.165 The layout and purpose of the Palikè sanc-tuary fits more a tyrant’s vision of a sanctuary (clear-ly laid out according to a unified plan) than that ofan area formed over the decades through the addi-tion of buildings and functions that paralleled thedevelopment of a true state.166

If this is the case, then we should ask where theSikels obtained the money necessary to start con-struction of the sanctuary complex of the fifth centu-ry B.C. Roland Martin has outlined the sources offinance for major architectural projects in Sicily andMagna Graecia, including private contributions fromwealthy individuals, and monies directly controlledby the sanctuaries from “barbarian contributions”and other sources.167 That Syracuse benefited finan-cially from non-Greek territories is expressly statedby Thucydides (6.20.4). The source of such fundsmay have been the sale of agricultural produce andperhaps mercenary soldiering, activities that mostlikely would have promoted other forms of contactbetween the indigenous communities and theGreeks as well.168 Perhaps the creation of the Sikelσυντ λεια and the extraordinary financial contribu-tions tied to participation in the league made therenovation of this venerable sanctuary possible.169

The creation of Complex P and its associatedstructures marks a second, major renovation of thePalikè sanctuary. The layout of Complex P recalls atype of building described by S. Miller as a “public

house.”170 One example of such a structure is foundnot far from Palikè in the agora at Morgantina, theso-called prytaneion.171 Recent study has dated thisbuilding to the second half of the third century B.C.,and it may have served as a city bank.172 Like Com-plex P at Palikè, this building was added to an earli-er construction, the East Stoa, and it consists of aseries of rooms set around a central peristyle.173 Thedimensions of this structure are similar to those ofthe building that presumably stood on the platformof Complex P, but they are clearly linked to the earli-er stoa’s proportions.174 Could Complex P at Palikèrepresent such an “emerging building type,” as Mill-er argued for the building at Morgantina and twoothers in Asia Minor? Instead of serving as prytane-ia—buildings which were tied closely to the workingdemocratic institutions of a Greek polis—such newpublic houses focused more on religious or othersanctuary-related activities of the Hellenistic age, inwhich the decisions of individual monarchs and theirrepresentatives often exerted a greater influencethan surviving local, political institutions.175

This kind of Hellenistic patronage describedin literary sources may have financed such renova-tion. There was every reason for Greek rulers topay attention to the Sikels, and there were manyopportunities for Sikels to become acquainted withGreek ways, Greek markets, and Greek architec-ture. By the mid fifth century B.C. many Sikels al-ready were in the service of Greeks as soldiers andlaborers.176 Syracuse needed both financial and

165 There is an interesting parallel between the behavior ofDucetius and that of Dionysius I, which Diodorus Siculus de-scribes in greater detail. Dionysius is said to have given land tohis supporters both in the city of Syracuse and in the country-side reserving only the best portions for himself and his friends.Given the significant time lapse between the Classical era andthe time that Diodorus wrote, it would not be unusual to thinkthat to some degree the misty figure of Ducetius the Sikel wassomewhat modeled by the historian to match that of the Greektyrant whose activities may have been better documented.

166 The buildings at Palikè do not seem to be the result ofindividual liturgies, planned and constructed as the need andthe opportunity arose. Such agglutinative development ismore in keeping with the Agora of Athens or the pan-Hel-lenic sanctuaries at Olympia and Delphi, as stated elegantlyin Wycherley 1949, 69.

167 Martin 1973.168 It is not at all clear that money was an important com-

modity among the indigeni themselves, although it has beenargued that hoards of bronze and iron dating as early as thefinal Bronze Age may have represented a primitive kind ofmeasured wealth that led to the introduction of actual bronzecoinage (Tusa Cutroni 1997).

169 Such an expense may be one of the reasons that at leastone Sikel center, Hybla, refused to join.

170 Miller 1978, 109–27.171 Sposito et al. 1995, 51–3.172 M. Bell, pers. comm.

173 The first excavation report appears in Sjoeqvist 1964.174 It is worth noting that the long portion of rooms along

the southern side of the peristyle at Morgantina is divided intotwo rooms of unequal length instead of three in a manner sim-ilar to that suggested by the foundations along the easternside of Complex P at Palikè.

175 Miller 1978, 126–7.176 Gelon had availed himself of Sikel fighting units, and this

may explain the interest that Gelon apparently had in makingbenefactions to chthonic divinities in the area of Mount Etna(Diod. Sic. 11.26). These cults could well be of indigenous ori-gin, like the Divine Palikoi, even though they ostensibly werefor Greek divinities (or the benefactions were explained assuch). Later on Dionysius I also installed a garrison at Motya,which was composed mostly of Sikels under the command ofBiton of Syracuse (Diod. Sic. 14.53.5). It would seem unlikelythat these Sikels had been among those who had been formerallies of the Carthaginians and more likely that they came fromeastern, rather than western, parts of the island. It would seem,furthermore, that Dionysius I was able to garner many indige-nous laborers for work on the Epipolae fortifications, which wereerected in record time at Syracuse (supra n. 57). Although Di-odorus nowhere specifically states that indigenous people wereinvolved in the building these works, such a conclusion may bereached from the sheer numbers that Diodorus does supply (seeMartin 1983, 544 on the famous description in Diod. Sic. 14.18.4–6, which lists 60,000 laborers taken from the countryside: τνπ τς ρας \λν ^θρισεν).


physical support from the Sikels, and this may holdan explanation in realpolitik for Syracuse’s surpris-ingly generous pardon and pensioning of Duce-tius when he asked for clemency following hisdefeat.177 Years later, Agathocles made architecturalbenefactions to Agira, apparently not forgettingthe importance of the Sicilian hinterland.178 With-out such benefaction, construction of such a mon-umental scale as that of Complex P would not havebeen possible.

It is unlikely, however, that either the brief-livedpolitical union of Ducetius or the interest of ex-ternal patrons would have been able to promotethe continuity of use evident in the sanctuary atPalikè. While cultural practice and historicalmemory may be kept alive by popular tradition,179

a better explanation is that a much more stablesanctuary administration was in place, which pre-dated the Sikel federation and which survived thehistorical vicissitudes of Greek and later Romanrule.180 It is surprising that even under the domin-ion of Rome the sanctuary at Palikè was consid-ered a safe place to gather for what certainly wereregarded by many as seditious acts.181 The charac-terization of Palikè as a place of refuge for run-away slaves and the description of a detailed pro-cedure for their return presupposes the existenceof a means to guarantee their safety and to exactin a very concrete manner the conditions imposedupon their masters.182 The historical parallel thatis evident in the text of Diodorus Siculus betweenthe choice of Palikè in the fifth century B.C. as theseat of a rebellious ethnic political federation and

the choice of Palikè in the second century B.C. asa rallying point for those who rebelled against sla-very in the latifundia cultivated by Rome may beexplained precisely by the existence of a respect-ed and powerful priesthood that over the centu-ries maintained an active social agenda rooted ina sense of indigenous identity which championedthose who opposed control from the outside.

conclusions

Research at ancient Palikè underscores thecomplexity of relations between Sikels and Greeksboth in sociopolitical terms and in terms of mate-rial culture that we are only beginning to compre-hend. The results of excavation confirm that Roc-chicella di Mineo is an archaeological site withstructures and artifacts that one would expect tofind in a Greek sanctuary.

It is clear that the Grotto area has always been afocal point of human activity beginning early in Si-cilian prehistory. Although we cannot say preciselywhen the cult of the Divine Palikoi first appeared,this cult and the sanctuary also may have their rootsin the prehistoric past. The cult was present defi-nitely by the seventh century B.C. when the sanctu-ary is said to have received its first structures.

The archaeological research presented here hasdocumented several important aspects of the sanc-tuary’s long history. In the Archaic period the areain front of the Grotto was laid along the axis thatwould mark the orientation of all subsequent build-ings. This structuring may be that referred to byHippys of Rhegion in connection with the thirty-

177 An interpretation of the pardon in terms of Syracusancorruption appears in Holloway (1991, 87). While Holloway re-gards Ducetius as a member of a native elite “thoroughly athome in the Greek milieu akin to those from British and Frenchcolonies who returned from Europe to their native lands tolead revolts against colonial domination,” it would seem equal-ly plausible to the present authors that Ducetius may have hadactual family ties as well as political support at Syracuse. Regard-ing the complexity of interpreting the sociology of coloniza-tion through archaeological evidence, see Lyons and Papa-dopoulos 2002.

178 Diod. Sic. 16.83.2–3 (Agathocles is reported to have builta theater, a bouleuterion, an agora, and several funerary mon-uments). In the same passage we read that Agathocles was alsofamous for having built a haughty 60-couch hestiaterion atSyracuse. We may only speculate on what parallels this build-ing may have had with those preserved at Palikè and elsewherein Sicily.

179 It is evident in the text of Diodorus that the Sikels hada long memory. We read of the way in which they reoccupiedTauromenion in 394/393 B.C. to avenge the offense that theyhad suffered generations earlier when they were driven awayby the newly-arrived Greeks at Naxos (Diod. Sic. 14.88.1).

180 La Rosa (1989, 92) discusses indigenous priesthoods fromthe seventh century B.C. on the basis of evidence from other

locations and posits the existence of a “priestly class” alongsidethose of warrior-mercenaries and landholders.

181 Diod. Sic. 36.3.1–3 describes the way in which the Ro-man praetor Licinius Nerva, bowing to pressure from slave-holding notables, ceased to show interest in applying a formaldecree of the Senate to liberate citizens of allied states whohave been enslaved for debt-bondage. He chided those whoapproached him entertaining requests for liberation (36.3.3):τUς πρσιντας .π+ τR τυMε*ν τς .λευθερ!ας .πιπλ2ττωνες τUς δ!υς κυρ!υς πρσ ταττεν .παναστρ φειυν. Inthis description and the subsequent statement of how the slavesbanded together and took refuge at Palikè one is struck by thefreedom of movement which the slaves seem to have beenable to exercise.

182 Diod. Sic. (11.89.7) describes the masters of slaves run-away to the sanctuary at Palikè as ignorant or arrogant men(κυρ!ις γνµσι), and although the power of the sanctuaryis explained specifically in terms of the fear of the divinities (Yτν θεν δεισδαιµν!α) it seems doubtful that pious self-con-trol alone would have been sufficient to restrain individualswho may not have had much self-control in the first place. Somesort of security garrison must have existed at the sanctuary toprovide physical protection for those who fled there, a forcesufficient to repel whatever force a slave-owner could bring tobear against the runaway slave.


sixth Olympiad (636–632 B.C.). At this time thefirst settlement on the hill, perhaps named Eryx,183

also may have been established.In the mid fifth century B.C. both the sanctuary

and the settlement were built up once again. Di-odorus says that the Sikel leader Ducetius trans-ferred the population of Menae to a new founda-tion that he called Palikè near the Sanctuary of theDivine Palikoi and that he divided the surround-ing land. While the creation of Palikè may havebeen more of a re-foundation of a town already inexistence than the creation of one ex novo, the re-building of the sanctuary and its Classical monu-mentalization through the erection of new struc-tures, of which the Hestiaterion is the most elegantexample, reflects a unified program of developmentthat would seem to step directly out of the agendaof this energetic Sikel leader. The sanctuary is like-ly to have served as the seat of Ducetius’s SikelLeague.

During the mid fourth century B.C. significantnumbers of mercenaries were present in easternSicily for several years. One such group may havegained control of Palikè and rebuilt the settlementand its fortification wall in woven masonry.184 Thesanctuary at Palikè seems to have survived the finaldestruction of the settlement well into Romantimes. It is interesting that the extensive sacrificialdeposit on the ruins of Stoa B seems to have thesame date as the episodes in the Second Slave Wardescribed by Diodorus. The use of buildings forcult related activity seems to have ceased by thefourth century, and the cult itself with its topograph-ic associations was all but forgotten (or eliminated)by early Christian times.

It is clear, also, that the developments in archi-tecture and material culture at Palikè in the Sicil-ian hinterland can be related to those at coastalGreek cities and other major centers beyond theshores of Sicily. Such cultural participation wasmaintained most likely because the sanctuary con-tinued to be frequented regularly and because ithad an administration capable of generating its ownincome or garnering external patronage and trans-lating that support into concrete developmentsdespite major social, political, and economic chang-es on a Mediterranean-wide scale. The discoveriesthat have been made to date indicate that impor-tant areas within the overall site remain to be ex-plored. The constitution of the archaeological park

marks the beginning of a new phase in the site’shistory, in which such significant and unexpectedmonumental structures will receive the attentionand the protection that they deserve.

soprintendenza bb.cc.aa.viale l. sturzo, 6295100 catania, [email protected]

71 north glenwood roadfanwood, new jersey [email protected]

Works Cited

Adamesteanu, D., 1962. “L’ellenizzazione della Siciliaed il momento di Ducezio.” Kokalos 8:167–98.

Agostiniani, L. 1988–1989. “I modi del contatto linguisti-co tra greci e indigeni nella Sicilia antica.” Kokalos34–35:167–206.

———. 1997. “L’emergere della lingua scritta.” In Pri-ma Sicilia, alle origini della società siciliana, Albergo deiPoveri, Palermo, 18 ottobre – 22 dicembre 1997, 579–81.Palermo: Regione Siciliana, Assessorato dei Beni Cul-turali ed Ambientali e della Pubblica Istruzione, Uni-versità di Palermo, Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia.

Albanese Procelli, R.M. 1991. “Importazioni greche neicentri interni della Sicilia in età arcaica: aspettidell’«acculturazione».” In Atti del Convegno Interrnazi-onale I Vasi Attici ed Altre Ceramiche Coeve in Sicilia, Cata-nia, Camarina, Gela, Vittoria, 28 marzo–1 aprile 1990.Vol. 2, Cronache di Archeologia 30:97–111.

Arcifa, L. 2001. “Dinamiche insediative nel territorio diMineo tra tardo antico e bassomedioevo. Il castrum diMonte Catalfaro.” MÉFRM 113:269–311.

Barra Bagnasco, M., 1977. “Lo scavo I – La zona a suddel Muro M.” In Locri Epizefiri I, Ricerche nella zona diCentocamere, 3–49. Florence: Sansoni.

Bell, M. 1994. Review of Sicily Under the Roman Empire, byR.J.A. Wilson. JRA 7:371–82.

Bello, L. 1960. “Ricerche sui Palici.” Kokalos 6:71–97.Bergquist, B. 1990. “The Archaic Temenos in Western

Greece, A Survey and Two Inquiries.” In Le sanctuairegrec, 109–58. Entretiens sur l’Antiquité Classique Pub-lies par Olivier Reverdin et Bernard Grange, August20–25, 37. Geneva: Fondation Hardt.

Bernabò Brea, L. 1965. “Palikè, Giacimento paleoliticoed abitato neolitico ed eneo.” BPI 16:23–46.

Boerker, C. 1983. Festbankett und griechische Architektur.Xenia, Konstanzer Althistorische Vortraege und For-schungen, 4.

Bookidis, N. 1993. “Ritual Dining at Corinth.” In GreekSanctuaries: New Approaches, edited by N. Mariantos andR. Hägg, 45–57. London and New York: Routledge.

———. 1999. “Dining in the Sanctuary of Demeter and

183 Supra, n. 43.184 Excavation during the summer of 2000 at Mineo near

the Byzantine-era Porta Udienza revealed a tract of a very wellpreserved city wall in ashlar blocks of limestone, datable on

the basis of the masonry to the fourth century B.C. The con-struction of this wall may represent a specific response to themercenary presence at Palikè and elsewhere. See also supra,n. 22.


Kore at Corinth.” Hesperia 68:1–54.Bookidis, N., and R.S. Stroud. 1997. Corinth. Vol. 18, pt.

3, The Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore: Topography andArchitecture. Princeton: American School of ClassicalStudies at Athens.

Bubenheimer, F., and J. Mylonopoulos. 1996. “Die Stoavon Brauron. Gestalt un Funktion der Aeltesten P-foermigen Saeulenhalle in Griechenland.” In Kult undFunktion Griechischer Heiligtuemer in Archaischer und Klas-sischer Zeit, edited by F. Bubenheimer, J. Mylonopou-los, B. Schulze, and A. Zinsmaier, 45–60. Mainz:Schriften des Deutschen Archaeologen-Verbandes e.V., 15.

Castiglioni E. 2001. “I resti botanici dall’area archeolog-ica di Palikè (Rocchicella, comune di Mineo, CT).”Manuscript report submitted to the SoprintendenzaBB.CC.AA. di Catania by ARCO – Cooperativa diRicerche Archeobiologiche, Como – Laboratorio diArcheobiologia dei Musei Civici di Como.

Castoldi, M. 1998. Le antefisse dipinte di Gela. Contributoallo studio della pittura siceliota arcaica. Scavi a Gela Cam-pagne 1951–1961; 1973–1975. Milano: Comune di Mi-lano, Settore Cultura e Musei Raccolte Archeolog-iche e Numismatiche.

Cherry, J. 1983. “Putting the Best Foot Forward.” Antiquity57:52–6.

Cluverius, P. 1659. Sicilia Antiqua.Coarelli, F. 1984. Sicilia. Guide Archeologiche Laterza.

Bari and Rome: Laterza.———. 1987. I Santuari de Lazio in eta‘ Repubblicana. Ar-

cheologia 7. Roma: Studi Nuova Italia Scientifica.Consolo Langher, S.N. 1996. Siracusa e la Sicilia Greca tra

Età Arcaica ed Alto Ellenismo. Biblioteca dell’Archivio StoricoMessinese, XXIII. Messina: Società Messinese di StoriaPatria.

———. 1997. Un imperialismo tra democrazia e tirannide.Siracusa nei Secoli V e IV a.C. Kokalos Suppl. 12. Rome:Giorgio Bretschneider.

Cooper, N.K. 1989. The Development of Roof Revetment inthe Peloponnese. Partille: Paul Åström.

Corbato, C. 1996. “Le Etnee di Eschilo.” In Catania Anti-ca, Atti del Convegno della Società Italiana per lo Studiodell’Antichità Classica, Catania 23–24 Maggio 1992, edit-ed by B. Gentili, 61–72. Pisa and Rome: Istituti Edito-riali e Poligrafici Internazionali.

Coulton, J.J. 1975. “Toward Understanding Greek Tem-ple Design: General Considerations.” Annual of theBritish School of Archaeology at Athens 70:59–99.

———. 1980. The Architectural Development of the GreekStoa. Oxford: Clarendon.

Croon, J.H. 1952. “The Palici: An Autochthonous Cultin Ancient Sicily.” Mnemosyne 5:116–29.

D’Arrigo, M. 1996. “Il Katagogion: Un edificio tra ilpubblicio e il privato.” In Ricerche sulla casa in MagnaGrecia e in Sicilia, Atti del Colloquio – Lecce, 23–24 Giugno1992, Universita` degli Studi—Sala Conferenze, edited byF. D’Andria and K. Mannino, 89–107. Galatina(Lecce): Congedo Editore.

De Sensi Sestito, G. 1984. “La funzione politicadell’Heraion del Lacinio al tempo delle lotte controi Lucani e Dionisio I.” In I santuari e la guerra nel mondoclassico, edited by M. Sordi, 41–50. Contributidell’Istituto di storia antica 10. Milan: Vita e Pensie-ro, Pubblicazioni della Università Cattolica del SacroCuore.

De Waele, J.A.K.E. 1988. “I Grandi Templi.” In Agrigento

e La Sicilia Greca, Atti della Settimana di Studio, Agrigento,2–8 maggio 1988, edited by L. Braccesi and E. De Miro,157–205. Rome: L’ERMA di Bretschneider.

———. 1998. “The Layout of the Lefkandì Heroon.”Annual of the British School at Athens 93:379–84.

Delbrueck, R. 1907–1912. Hellenistische Bauten in LatiumI. Strassbourg: K.J. Truebner.

Diodorus Budè. 1972. Diodoro de Sicile. Bibliotheque His-torique Livre 12. Translation and commentary byMichel Casevitz. Paris: Le Belles Lettres/AssociationGuillaume Budé.

Di Stefano, G. 1988–1989. “Indigeni e Greginell’entroterra di Camarina.” Kokalos 34–35:89–105.

Doxiadis, C.A. 1972. Architectural Space in Ancient Greece.Reprint ed. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.

Durante, M. 1964–1965. “Il Siculo e la sua documentazi-one.” Kokalos 10–11:417–50.

Meinekie, A., ed. 1958. Stephan von Byzanz Ethnika. Graz:Akademische Druck-U. Verlagsanstalt.

Etna Mito d’Europa. 1997. Etna mito d’Europa, catalogomostra Centro Le Ciminiere, Catania, marzo-luglio 1997.Catania: Provincia Regionale di Catania/GiuseppeMaimone.

Fazello, T. 1558. De rebus Siculis decades duae. Translatedby N. Remigo. Reprint 1817, Palermo: G. Assenzio.Second reprint 1985, Catania: Dafni.

Fiechter, E. 1937. Das Theater in Eretria. Stuttgart: W.Kohlhammer.

Franco, A. 1999. “La ‘città’ del Mendolito: Τρινακ!η?”Sicilia Archeologica 99–101.

Freeman, E.A. 1891. The History of Sicily from the EarliestTimes. Vol. 1. Oxford: Clarendon.

Frickenhaus, A. 1917. “Griechische Banketthaeuser.” DAIJahrbuch 32:114–33.

Gabba, E., and G. Vallet, eds. 1980. La Sicilia antica. Vol.1, pt. 3, Città greche e indigene di Sicilia: Documenti e storia.Naples: Società editrice Storia di Napoli del Mezzo-giorno continentale e della Sicilia.

Gabrici, E. 1956. “Studi Archeologici Selinuntini.” MonAnt43:205–392.

Gallo, L. 1982. “Polyanthropia, Eremia e mescolanzaetnica in Sicilia: il caso di Entella.” Annali della ScuolaNormale Superiore di Pisa, Classe di Lettere e Filosofia, Se-rie 3.12:917–44.

Gentili, G.V. 1962. “Cinturione eneo con dedica da Pa-likè.” Mitteilungen des Deutsches Archaiologisches Instituts,Roemische Abteilung 69:14–20.

Giangiulio, L. 1982. “Edifici pubblici e culti nelle nuoveiscrizioni da Entella.” Annali della Scuola Normale Supe-riore di Pisa, Classe di Lettere e Filosofia, Serie 3. Vol.12.3:945–92.

Goldstein, M.S. 1978. “The Setting of the Ritual Meal inGreek Sanctuaries: 600–3000 B.C.” Ph.D. diss., Uni-versity of California, Berkeley.

Gullini, G. 1980. La cultura architettonica di Locri Epizefirii,Documenti e interpretazioni. Magna Grecia I. Taranto:Istituto per la Storia e l’Archeologia della MagnaGrecia.

Hansen, M.H., and T. Fischer-Hansen. 1994. “Monumen-tal Political Architecture in Archaic and ClassicalGreek Poleis: Evidence and Historical Significance.”In From Political Architecture to Stephanus Byzantius, edit-ed by D. Whitehead, 23–90. Stuttgart: Steiner.

Heermann, V. 1984. “Bankettraume im Leonidaion.”DAI Atenische Mitteilungen 99:243–50.

Hodge, A.T. 1964. “Notes on Three Western Greek Tem-


ples.” AJA 68:179–84.Holloway, R.R. 1968. Art and Coinage in Magna Graecia.

Bellinzona: Edizioni Arte e Moneta.———. 1990. “The Geography of the Southern Sicels.”

In ΕΥΜΥΣΙΑ: Ceramic and Iconographic Studies in Ho-nour of Alexander Cambitoglou, 147–53. MeditArch Sup-pl. 1.

———. 1991. The Archaeology of Ancient Sicily. Londonand New York: Routledge.

Holm, A. 1870. Geschichte Siziliens im Altertum, Band 1.Leipzig: W. Engelmann. Reprint 1979, Aalen: Scientia.

Houel, J. 1785. Viaggio in Sicilia e a Malta. Vol. 3. Reprint1977, edited by G. Macchia, L. Sciascia, and G. Vallet.Naples and Palermo: Società Storia di Napoli e dellaSicilia.

Jacoby, F. 1950. Die Fragmente der Griechischen Historiker3B. Leiden: E.J. Brill.

Kenfield, J. 1990. “An East Greek Master Coroplast atLate Archaic Morgantina.” In Proceedings of the FirstInternational Conference on Archaic Greek ArchitecturalTerracottas, December 2–4, 1988, edited by N.A. Winter.Hesperia 59:265–74.

Klein, N.L. 1998. “Evidence for West Greek Influenceon Mainland Greek Roof Construction and the Cre-ation of the Truss in the Archaic Period.” Hesperia67:335–74.

Liddell, H.G., and R. Scott, revised by H.S. Jones. 1978.A Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford: Clarendon.

La Rosa, V. 1967. “Due antefisse sicule dipinte.” Cronachedi Archeologia e Storia dell’Arte 6:78–86.

———. 1974. “Le ‘Etnee’ di Eschilo e l’identificazione diXouthia.” Archivio Storico per la Sicilia Orientale 70:1–14.

———. 1989. “Le popolazioni della Sicilia. Sicani, Sicu-li, Elimi.” In Italia omnium terrarum parens: La civiltàdegli Enotri, Choni, Ausoni, Sanniti, Lucani, Brettii, Si-cani, Siculi, Elimi, edited by C. Belli, P. Orlandini, andG. Pugliese Caratelli, 1–110. Milan: Libri Scheiwiller.

Lauter, H. 1986. Die Architektur des Hellenismus. Darms-tadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft.

Lejeune, M. 1982. “Noms grecs et noms indigènes dansl’épigraphie hellénistique d’Entella.” Annali della Scuo-la Normale Superiore di Pisa, Classe di Lettere e Filosofia,Ser. 3.12:787–99.

Leone, R. 1998. Luoghi di Culto Extraurbani d’Età Arcaicain Magna Grecia. Università degli Studi di Torino, Fon-do di Studi Parini-Chirio, Studi e Materiali di Arche-ologia 11. Firenze: Casa Editrice Le Lettere.

Lombardo, M. 1988. “Pratiche di commensalità e formedi organizzazione sociale nel mondo greco: Symposiae syssitia.” Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa,Classe di Lettere e Filosofia, Serie III, 18.2:263–86.

Luraghi, N. 1994. Tirannidi archaiche in Sicilia e MagnaGrecia da Panezio di Leontini alla caduta dei Dinomenidi.Fondazione Luigi Firpo, Centro di Studi sul PensieroPolitico, Studi e Testi, 3. Florence: Leo S. Olschki.

Lyons, C., and J. Papadopoulos. 2002. “Archaeology andColonialism.” In The Archaeology of Colonialism: Issuesand Debates, edited by C. Lyons and J. Papadopoulos,1–23. Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute.

Maniscalco, L. 1985–1986. “Tipologie funerarie nella Si-cilia del tardo bronzo: Pantalica, Dessueri, Caltagirone.”Archivio Storico per la Sicilia Orientale, 81–82:241–65.

———. 1996. Abstract, “The Prehistoric Settlement atSan Marco (Paternò, Sicily).” AJA 100:356.

———. 1997. “L’insediamento preistorico presso le Sa-linelle di San Marco (Paternò).” In Prima Sicilia: Alle

origini della società siciliana, edited by S. Tusa, 192–7. Pal-ermo: Regione Siciliana, Assessorato BB.CC.AA. e P.I.

———. 1999a. “Il neolitico attorno alla Piana di Cata-nia: L’insediamento preistorico presso le Salinelle diPaternò.” In La Neolitizzazione tra Oriente ed Occidente,Convengo di Studi, Museo Friulano di Storia Naturale,Aprile 1999, 489–507. Udine: Accademia Udinense diScienze Lettere e Arti.

———. 1999b. “The Sicilian Bronze Age Pottery Ser-vice.” In Social Dynamics of the Prehistoric Central Mediter-ranean, edited by J. Morter, J. Robb, and R. Tykot,185–94. London: Accordia.

Maniscalco, L., and B.E. McConnell. 1997–1998.“Ricerche e scavi attorno Palikè.” Kokalos 43–44:173–88.

———. 1998. Abstract, “Excavations at Palikè, 1997.”AJA 102:417.

Manni, E. 1983. “Divagazioni sul culto dei Palici.” Re-printed in Sikelika kai Italika. Scritti Minori di Storia An-tica della Sicilia e dell’Italia Meridionale. 1:409–22. Rome:Giorgio Bretschneider.

Marconi, C. 1997. “Storie di Caccia in Sicilia Occidentale.”Seconde Giornate Internazionali di Studi Sull’Area Elima,Gibellina, 22–26 ottobre 1994, Atti II, 1071–120. Pisa-Gibel-lina: Centro Studi e Documentazione sull’Area Elima.

Marinatos, N., and R. Hägg. 1993. Greek Sanctuaries: NewApproaches. London and New York: Routledge.

Martin, R. 1973. “Aspects financiers et sociaux des pro-grammes de construction dans le villes grecques deGrande-Grece et de Sicile.” In Economia e società nellaMagna Grecia, Atti del XII Convengo di Studi sulla MagnaGrecia. Taranto 8–14 ottobre 1972. Reprinted in Architec-ture et Urbanisme, CÉFR 99:533–47.

McConnell, B.E. 1993. “Architettura Domestica e Ar-chitettura Funeraria nel Bronzo Medio.” In Atti delConvegno Storia e Archeologia della Media e Bassa Valledell’Himera (III giornata di studi sull’archeologia licatese, Iconvegno sull’archeologia nissena, Licata-Caltanissetta 30–31 maggio 1987, edited by P. Meli and G. Cavalieri, 73–9. Palermo: Associazione Archeologica Nissena andAssociazione Archeologica Licatese.

McConnell, B.E., et al. 2001. Abstracts, “Session 3D:Colloquium: Exploration of the Sikel Heartland,” withpapers presented by L. Maniscalco, S. Pope, F. Vento,C. Antonaccio, S. Thompson, and M. Bell. AJA105:278–81.

McConnell, L.M. 1997. Abstract, “Excavations at Palikè,1995.” AJA 101:351.

McDougall, J.I. 1983. Lexicon in Diodorum Siculum, Pars IA-K. Hildesheim: G. Olms.

Mertens, D. 1984. Der Tempel von Segesta und die dorischeTempelbaukunst des Griechischen Westens in Klassischer Zeit.Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern.

Messina, A. 1965. “Grotta con graffiti nella campagna diMineo.” Conache di Archeologia e Storia dell’Arte 4:30–8.

———. 1967. “Menai-Menaion ed Eryke-Palike.” Cronachedi Archeologia e Storia dell’Arte 6:87–91.

Meurant, A. 1998. Les Paliques, Dieux Jumeaux Siciliens.Bibliotheque de Cahiers de L’Institut de Linguistiquede Louvain 96. Louvain-la-Neuve: Peeters.

Miles, M. 1998. “The Propylon to the Sanctuary of Deme-ter Malophoros at Selinous.” AJA 102:35–57.

Miller, S. 1973. “The Date of the West Building at theArgive Heraion.” AJA 77:9–18.

———. 1978. The Prytaneion: Its Function and Architectur-al Form. Berkeley: University of California Press.

180 L. MANISCALCO AND B.E. MCCONNELL, THE SANCTUARY OF THE DIVINE PALIKOI, SICILY

Nenci, G. 1993. “Fonti Epigrafiche.” In Alla Ricerca diEntella, edited by G. Nenci, 35–50. Pisa: Scuola Nor-male Superiore di Pisa, Laboratorio di TopografiaStorico-Archeologia del Mondo Antico.

———. 1997. “L’emergere della politica: I decreti daEntella.” In Prima Sicilia, alle origini della società sicili-ana, Albergo dei Poveri, Palermo, 18 ottobre–22 dicembre1997, 583–85. Palermo: Regione Siciliana, Assessora-to dei Beni Culturali ed Ambientali e della PubblicaIstruzione, Università di Palermo, Facoltà di Letteree Filosofia.

Oldfather, C.H. 1970. Diodorus of Sicily. Vol. 4. Loeb Clas-sical Library. Trans. Cambridge: Harvard UniversityPress.

Orsi, P. 1900. “Frammenti epigrafici sicelioti.” Rivista diStoria Antica 5:39–66.

———. 1933. “Templum Apollonis Alaei ad Crimisa-Promontorium: Parte I.” Atti e Memorie della SocietàMagna Grecia 1932:15–50.

Pace, B. 1945. Arte e Civiltà della Sicilia Antica, VolumeTerzo. Cultura e Vita Religiosa. Genoa, Rome, Naples,Città di Castello: Società Anonima Editrice DanteAlighieri.

ΠΑΡΑ∆ΓΡΑΦΙ. 1963. ΠΑΡΑ∆ΓΡΑΦΙ: Scrip-tores Rerum Mirabilium Graeci, edited by A. Westermann.Amsterdam: A.M. Hakkert.

Parlangèli, O. 1964–1965. “Il sostrato linguistico in Sicil-ia.” Kokalos 10–11:211–44.

Paternò Castello, I. 1817. Viaggio per tutte le antichità dellaSicilia. Palermo: Francesco Abbate. Reprint 1990, Sir-acusa and Palermo: Ediprint.

Pelagatti, P. 1962. “Palica, near Mineo (Sicilia, Catania).”Fasti Archeologici 17:199–200.

———. 1964–1965. Response to article by O. Parlangè-li. Kokalos 10–11:245–52.

———. 1966. “Palikè (Mineo–Catania): Santuario deiPalici.” BdA 51:106.

———. 1977. “Sacelli e nuovi materiali architettonici aNaxos, Monte San Mauro e Camarina.” Cronache diArcheologia e Storia dell’Arte 16:43–65.

Petruso, K.M. 1992. Keos VIII, Ayia Irini: The BalanceWeights. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern.

Ponte, G. 1934. “La mofeta dei Palici e la sua utilizzazi-one.” Bollettino della Società Geological Italiana 53:69–76.

Prosdocimi, A.L., and L. Agostiniani. 1976–1977. “Linguee dialetti della Sicilia antica.” Kokalos 22–23:215–52.

Musso, O. 1985. Rerum Mirabilium Collectio. Rerum Mira-bilium Collectio. Hellenica et Byzantina Neapolitana12. Naples.

Roebuck, C. 1951. Corinth. Vol. 14, The Asklepieion and Ler-na. Princeton: American School of Classical Studies.

Romeo, I. 1989. “Sacelli arcaici senza peristasi nella Si-cilia greca.” Xenia 17:5–54.

Roux, G. 1973. “Salles de Banquets à Delos.” In ÉtudesDeliennes. BCH Suppl. 1:525–54. Athens and Paris: ÉcoleFrançaise.

Seiler, F. 1984. “Un complesso di edifici pubblici nel La-cinio a Capo Colonna.” In Crotone, Atti del VentitreesimoConvegno di Studi sulla Magna Grecia, Taranto, 7–10ottobre 1983, 231–42. Taranto: Istituto per la Storia el’Archeologia della Magna Grecia.

———. 1996. “Santuari a Crotone e nella Crotoniatide.L’architettura sacra.” In I Greci in Occidente: Santuaridella Magna Grecia in Calabria, edited by E. Lattanzi,M.T. Iannelli, S. Luppino, C. Sabbione, and R. Spadea,250–8. Naples: Electa Napoli.

Shear, T.L., Jr. 1994. “0Ισνµυς τ’ 0Αθ2νασς .πιηστην:The Agora and Democracy.” In The Archaeology of Ath-ens and Attica under the Democracy, edited by W.D.E. Coul-son, O. Palagia, T.L. Shear Jr., H.A. Shapiro, and F.JFrost, 225–48. Oxbow Monograph 37. Oxford: Oxbow.

———. 1984. “The Athenian Agora: Excavations of 1980–1982.” Hesperia 53:1–57.

Sjoeqvist, E. 1962. “Excavations at Morgantina (Serra Or-lando) 1961: Preliminary Report VI.” AJA 66:135–43.

———. 1964. “Excavations at Morgantina (Serra Orlan-do) 1963: Preliminary Report VIII.” AJA 68:237–47.

Sposito, A., et al. 1995. Morgantina Architettura e Città Elle-nistiche. Palermo: Demetra Spigolature.

Tagliamonte, G. 1994. I figli di Marte. Roma: GiorgioBretschneider.

Tilton, E.L. 1902. “The Architecture of the Argive Her-aeum.” In The Argive Heraeum, edited by C. Waldstein.Cambridge, Mass.: Houghton Mifflin, Riverside.

Tusa, V. “Excursus Su una particolare caratteristica dellepiù antiche costruzioni del ‘Temenos’ della Malo-phoros in Selinunte.” Monumenti Antichi 43:393–408.

Tusa Cutroni, A. 1997. “I ripostigli di bronzo e la lorofunzione pre o paramonetale.” In Prima Sicilia, alleorigini della società siciliana, Albergo dei Poveri, Palermo,18 ottobre–22 dicembre 1997, 566–78. Palermo: RegioneSiciliana, Assessorato dei Beni Culturali ed Ambien-tali e della Pubblica Istruzione, Università di Paler-mo, Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia.

Vallet, G., F. Villard, and P. Auberson. 1976. Megara Hy-blaea. Vol. 1, Le quartier de l’Agora Archaique, texte. Rome:École Française de Rome.

———. 1983. Megara Hyblea. Vol. 3, Guida agli Scavi.MÉFRA Suppl. 1. Rome: École Française.

Walton, F.R. 1967. Diodorus of Sicily. Cambridge: Har-vard University Press, Loeb Classical Texts, vol. 12.

Wikander, O. 1988. “Ancient Roof-Tiles—Use and Func-tion.” OpAth 17:203–16.

Will, E. 1976. “Banquets et salles de banquet dans lescultes de la Grèce et de l’Empire romain.” In Me-langes d’Histoire Ancienne et d’Archeologie offerts a PaulCollart, 353–62. Lausanne: Cahiers d’ArcheologieRomande 5.

Wilson, R. 1992. Sicily under the Roman Empire. Warmin-ster: Aris and Phillips.

Winter, N.A. 1993. Greek Architectural Terracottas from the Pre-historic to the End of the Archaic Period. Oxford: Clarendon.

Wycherley, R.E. 1949. How the Greeks Built Cities. London:Macmillan.

Ziegler, K. 1949a. “Palikè.” RE 18.3:98–9.———. 1949b. “Palikoi.” RE 18.3:100–23.Zoppi, C. 1993. “Lavorazione del materiale lapideo tra

progetto ed esecuzione: Periteneia e apergonnell’architettura selinuntina.” In Selinunte, vol. 1, Inte-sa di Programma CNR-MISM: Progetto Strategico TecnologieModerne per la Conservazione dei Beni Culturali, edited byC. Gorgoni et al., 61–125. Rome: Bulzoni Editore.


A Reconsideration of theNortheastern Building at Pylos:

Evidence for a Mycenaean Redistributive CenterL.M. BENDALL

AbstractThe Northeastern Building at the Mycenaean palace

of Pylos has long been interpreted as a workshop. Thepresent study argues that this was not the building’sfunction. Using both the archaeological and Linear Bdata, it is argued that the building was instead a “clear-inghouse” or “redistributive center” for goods and per-sonnel, similar to the function recently suggested byC.W. Shelmerdine for the West House Group at Mycenae.It was a major storage complex and above all an admin-istrative center, working in close association with thecentral Pylian Archives Complex. The article examinesfirst the archaeological evidence. Finds thought to sup-port the workshop hypothesis, such as chisels, knives,and obsidian flakes, are compared with distributions ofsuch artifacts throughout the palace. It is suggestedthat the archaeological material alone indicates noth-ing for the Northeastern Building beyond administra-tion and storage, especially of weaponry. Next the docu-ments and sealings are examined in the context of thewider Pylian administrative system. Finally, the docu-ments are considered individually, and it is argued thatthey are not “workshop” documents, but concern move-ments of goods and resource management. It is con-

cluded that nothing from the building suggests on-siteproduction, but numerous factors point to a redistribu-tive center—a clearinghouse for goods entering thepalace complex as a whole.*

The Northeastern Building at Mycenaean Pylos,commonly referred to as “the Northeast Workshop,”is a freestanding structure immediately outside thenortheastern wall of the main palace block (figs. 1–2). Since the publication of the first volume of ThePalace of Nestor (hereafter PoN) in 1966 no compre-hensive review of artifacts and documents from thebuilding has appeared in print. The few, brief stud-ies that have appeared generally start with the work-shop interpretation and focus on questions of or-ganization and production.1 Most scholars consid-er manufacture of chariots and leather goods to bethe main activities taking place in the building. Thepresent study takes a fresh look at the data and be-gins with a more fundamental question—what wasthe function of the Northeastern Building?

* I wish to thank above all John Killen, under whose super-vision this study was begun in 1997 as the first part of my doc-toral dissertation, and who offered invaluable advice and com-mentary through to the end. I am also grateful to John Ben-net, who took over supervision of my Ph.D. in 1999, for hishelp and advice through many drafts. The text was substantial-ly improved by comments from R.J.E. Thompson, V. Jackson,R.T. Anderson, E.E. Adams, A.J. Hájek, I.C. Image, and espe-cially the two anonymous reviewers for AJA. I wish to expressparticular gratitude to J.L. Melena for permission to cite Lin-ear B texts from Palace of Nestor 4 (Bennett et al. forthcoming,hereafter PoN 4), under his editorship, and three of his forth-coming articles. S.U. Hofstra generously agreed to my citingher unpublished Ph.D. thesis, including a study of the build-ing based on an examination of the material and the note-books. G. Flouda and T.G. Palaima kindly presented me withoffprints of recent articles. R.T. Anderson helped with the il-lustrations and T.J. Stevens loaned me a computer with whichto prepare the revised copy. I would also like to thank the editorand staff of AJA for their patience and assistance. This studywas made possible by financial support from the British Acade-my (now AHRB), a Michael Ventris Award, the Faculty of Clas-sics, Jesus and Fitzwilliam Colleges, Cambridge, and, last butnot least, my family. I wish to stress that responsibility for any

remaining mistakes or other inadequacies is entirely my own.1 The principal published studies are: Milani 1958; Tegyey

1984; Jasink 1984; 1990–1991; Shelmerdine 1987a; 1987b;Flouda 2000. See also Melena 1983, 179–80; Tegyey 1987,361–3; Shelmerdine 1997a, 394–5; 1999, esp. 567–8. Jasink(1984, 13) does phrase the question of the building’s func-tion, but quickly finds support for the workshop interpreta-tion, based on the Linear B evidence. Several scholars arecurrently working on the building. R. Schon will publish thearchaeological material under the aegis of the Pylos RegionalArchaeological Project (PRAP; see Davis 1998), and wrote anunpublished M.A. thesis on the building (Bryn Mawr 1995)(see AR 1997–1998, 54). S. Lupack (1999, 2002 non vidi) ad-dresses the material in the context of a larger study, and S.Hofstra (2000) has re-examined all material from the build-ing in the context of her Ph.D. thesis at the University ofTexas-Austin. Hofstra reaches conclusions similar to mine, asdoes G. Flouda (2000). Hofstra, Flouda, and I began work onthe building at about the same time and without knowledgeof the others’ work until advanced stages. It is encouragingthat we find independent agreement on substantial points,particularly as each had a different primary focus: Hofstra ar-gues mainly from the archaeological material, Flouda from thesealings, and I from the Linear B texts.

L.M. BENDALL182 [AJA 107

The Northeastern Building (hereafter NEB) wasexcavated in 1957 by M. Rawson, under the direc-tion of C.W. Blegen.2 From the beginning, the Lin-ear B documents found within the structure influ-enced interpretations of its function. Blegen tenta-tively proposed in the initial report in 1958 that thelarge numbers of men “owing” on some tablets, thetalk of chariotry and harnesses, and the appearanceof the word o-pa, which was then (mistakenly) be-lieved to relate to feudal service,3 might suggest “thequarters of the palace guard or garrison, and per-

haps the armory.” He cited hundreds of arrowheadsfrom room 100 as possible supporting evidence.4

How the interpretation of the building as a work-shop arose is not clear from the published litera-ture. It first appears mentioned in passing and with-out explanation in the 1959 excavation report, “thePalace Workshop (as we now call the NortheasternWing) . . .”5 Subsequent comments indicate thatthe Linear B documents were largely responsiblefor the change in view. For example, in the (origi-nal) official site guide, the excavators write: “This

Fig. 1. Key plan of the Mycenaean palace at Pylos. (PoN 1, key plan by J. Travlos, 1964, courtesy of the Department of Classics,University of Cincinnati)

2 Blegen 1958, 175–7. There was a small supplementaryexcavation in 1958 (Blegen 1959, 124), and parts of the build-ing were exposed in trenches in 1952 (S9, S11) and 1962 (S12)(Blegen 1953, 63; Blegen et al. 1973 [hereafter PoN 3], 25).Some further work involving the building was done in 1960and 1962 (Blegen and Rawson 1966 [hereafter PoN 1], 21,24). Recent work involving the building appears in Archaeolog-ical Reports from 1991 to the present. The Linear B documents

appear in Lang 1958, 181–91; 1959, 136–7 (with new read-ings by Chadwick); 1965. New finds of Linear B tablets proba-bly from the NEB are reported in, among others, AR 1992–1993, 33; 1993–1994, 29; Shelmerdine and Bennet 1995.

3 See Aura Jorro 1993, 30–1.4 Blegen 1958, 177.5 Blegen 1959, 121, see also 124.

A MYCENAEAN REDISTRIBUTIVE CENTER 1832003]

inscriptional evidence is sufficient to establish thecharacter of the building as a Workshop”6 (my em-phasis). Similarly, while the final publication in-cludes few interpretative arguments,7 of room 99 itis said: “The inscribed tablets and the sealings seemto indicate that the contents kept here came frommany different places. Leather, bronze, and artisansare mentioned and all the evidence leads us to theconclusion we have already expressed in callingthis the Palace Workshop.”8

“All the evidence” here must of course includethe archaeological evidence, but the argumentsarising from this evidence are not compelling, andit is unlikely that such an interpretation would haveemerged without the documents.

The strong influence of the textual evidenceunderlines the need for a reappraisal for two rea-sons. First, a great deal more is now known about

Linear B administration than when the buildingwas excavated (just five years after the 1952 deci-pherment), and it is desirable to examine the work-shop interpretation in the light of our current un-derstanding. It is notable that no other examplesof Linear B documents associated with workshopshave ever been found.9 As Tournavitou observed,“The overwhelming majority of the securely iden-tified workshops do not contain any tablets andsealings whatsoever, let alone any tablets pertain-ing to the workshop activity involved.”10 Shelmer-dine similarly notes: “While tablets are occasion-ally found in storerooms, they hardly ever appearin workshops.”11

Second, the archaeological evidence has largelybeen subordinated to the documentary evidencerather than being allowed to speak in its own right.Given the epigraphic view of a possible workshop,

6 Blegen and Rawson 1967, 28.7 See PoN 1, 15, 299, 305, 309, 311, 316, 321, 325. None

of these references includes detailed discussion of theinterpretation.

8 PoN 1, 321.9 The Linear B tablet found in the Unexplored Mansion

where there were workshops was in a disturbed context—itcould have come from a neighboring building (Evely 1984,252).

10 Tournavitou 1988, 456.11 Shelmerdine 1997b, 387.

Fig. 2. The Northeastern Building at Pylos. (PoN 1, fig. 223, courtesy of the Department of Classics, Universityof Cincinnati)


archaeological corroboration was found—chisels,blades, celts, and flint and obsidian scrap were iden-tified and pointed to as support. Yet not one chisel,blade, or flake was mentioned in the first reportbefore the workshop idea arose.12 I suggest that theworkshop interpretation is an example of Linear Band archaeological scholarship speaking acrosseach other. Archaeologists, relying on early inter-pretations of the documents, searched for corrobo-rating evidence. The proposed archaeological sup-port was then understood by epigraphers as con-firming the workshop interpretation, and this wasused as the basis for further analyses of the tablets,giving rise in some cases to questionable conclu-sions.13 A danger of circular reinforcement of mis-conceptions is evident.

What is now needed is to subject each type ofdata to rigorous internal analyses. The NEB yield-ed more sealings and Linear B documents thanany other single context at Pylos outside of theArchives Complex (AC), and this large deposit ofadministrative material along with the high stan-dard of excavation and publication make the build-ing an outstanding subject for an integrated studyusing archaeological and Linear B data. But it isimportant to be clear what is meant by integrationof textual and archaeological evidence. Studiesseeking to integrate such data tend to begin bylooking at the data sets separately. Although sucha procedure may seem a failure to integrate, thereis logic to the method.14 When this is done in thepresent case the separate data sets say somethingrather similar, and this is the point from which toembark on integration.

It is often said that, in order to integrate text andarchaeology, the Linear B tablets must be treated asarchaeological artifacts. The tablets could be ana-lyzed in terms of their clay, or the fact of their pres-ence used to argue for an administrative center,and so forth. But “tablets as artifacts” can only go sofar. The real interest of the tablets is not as materialobjects, but as documents or texts, and it is these

texts that we should seek to integrate into theirarchaeological contexts. Exemplary studies of howsuch an aim may be achieved succeed preciselybecause they read the texts in context;15 this articleseeks to follow their example with the NEB. Theemphasis should not be “tablets as artifacts,” but“documents in context.” Why are these particulardocuments in these particular locations? How arethey associated with each other? How do they relateto other documents and uninscribed sealingsfound in the same building and elsewhere in thepalace? How do they relate to other artifacts withwhich they were found, or functions to which thearchitecture of the building may have been suited?

Based on the present analysis, I believe the build-ing was a “clearinghouse” or “redistributive cen-ter” for goods and personnel, similar to what hasrecently been suggested by C.W. Shelmerdine forthe West Houses at Mycenae.16 The NEB was a ma-jor storage complex and above all a managementcenter for goods and personnel, working in closeassociation with the central AC. It had a particularassociation with military equipment, and Blegen’soriginal idea of an armory was, I believe, more alongthe correct lines than the workshop hypothesis.

The present study was undertaken in the con-text of broader research on the economics of reli-gion in the Mycenaean world. The building is in-volved in a long-running debate about connectionsbetween Aegean Bronze Age religion and indus-try.17 Speculations concerning this associationarose from an apparent spatial proximity betweenworkshops and shrines at some sites and the ap-pearance of workers in the Linear B tablets de-scribed as po-ti-ni-ja-we-jo, probably indicating a con-nection with a female deity. The NEB is often cit-ed as a prime example of a workshop-shrine asso-ciation, since one of its rooms, room 93, is inter-preted as a shrine. The appearance of religiousfigures on some tablets is considered further in-dicative of the building’s religious connections.18

This study will argue (1) that there is insufficient

12 See Blegen 1958, 175–7.13 See esp. the discussion below of “documents dealing with

livestock.”14 See Bennet 1984, 1988.15 E.g., Palaima and Wright 1985; Shelmerdine 1985; Palm-

er 1994; Bennet 1995; Palaima 1995a; Driessen 2000. Ofcourse, other difficulties are present where the documentscannot be fully read because they remain undeciphered, as withthe Minoan material. Such are still of great value as “documents.”

16 Shelmerdine 1997b, esp. 389–90. Shelmerdine (1997b,394 n. 45) refrains from extending her findings to the North-eastern Building, citing unpublished work arguing for a recon-

firmation of the workshop interpretation. My own ideas aboutthe Northeastern Building were worked out before seeing herarticle; I was delighted to discover the Mycenae parallel. Seealso Flouda 2000, 215, 231, 235–6.

17 See, e.g., Palmer 1963, 95; Ventris and Chadwick 1973(hereafter Docs2), 413–4; Hiller 1979, 190; 1982, 97; French1981, 45; Hägg and Marinatos 1981, 217; Platon 1983, 274;Poursat 1983, 277–81; Tegyey 1984, 77–8; Rutkowski 1986, 195;Hägg 1992, with more bibliography; Whittaker 1997, 23–4;Lupack 1999. Also suggested for Cyprus: Karageorgis 1976, 169–72; Knapp 1986.

18 Tegyey 1984, 78; see also Lupack 1999, 27–8.


archaeological evidence for a shrine to warrantfurther hypotheses, and (2) that the tablets showno religious connections beyond what is normallyobserved in Linear B archives. In any case, if thebuilding was not a workshop, the association falls.This conclusion need not mean that the workshop-shrine connection is elsewhere illusory, but if theNEB no longer provides an example, a new exam-ination of the wider question is in order.

archaeology of the northeasternbuilding

The area in front of the NEB was published intwo sections: court 92, leading on from ramp 91,and court 94, the proposed “colonnade” (figs. 1–2).19 Room 93, opening onto court 92, was inter-preted as a shrine, based on an air of “elegance anddistinction” created by the “decorative antae” of its

facade, and the presence of a plastered and paint-ed stone block, labeled an “altar,” in the courtyardbefore it (figs. 2–3).20 There are several reasons fordoubting that room 93 really was a shrine.

First, very little was found there.21 The room in-ventory records “chance sherds only,” including 32kylix stems and bases, and “16 flat bases” of “dim. [=diminutive] kylix, bowl, cup, etc.”22 Kylikes, evenwhere they are whole, are not diagnostic of religiousobservance. Indeed, in such small amounts, they donot count even as supportive evidence.23 Over 1,000kylix stems were found in the NEB as a whole, withnearly 700 more from ramp 91 and area 101. Com-pare the 1,052 from the Wine Magazine, or the near-ly 800 from courts 42 and 47.24 No one has arguedthat those places were shrines. With regard to thediminutive kylix, even if this is a “votive,” one mustnote the appearance of approximately 11 such items

19 PoN 1, 305–6. See also AR 1992–1993, 33 (a flagstonepavement is reported).

20 See PoN 1, 303–5, esp. 304. The interpretation appearsalready in the initial report (Blegen 1958, 176), without sup-porting argument.

21 The paucity of finds is probably not a result of loss of thefloor (as suggested in PoN 1, 305). Lupack (1999, 28–9) ar-gues convincingly that the original floor is preserved.

22 PoN 1, 305. Lupack (1999, 29) reports but a single dimin-utive kylix (see also Shelmerdine 1997a, 573), so the remain-ing 15 items are presumably cup/bowl bases.

23 At Pylos, kylikes are found predominantly in pantries. They

tend to be related to areas used for reception and for banquet-ing, but it is unlikely that feasting went on in the NEB. A re-ception function could be suggested, but as a general rule (atPylos) only clusters of over 300 stems are significant. There isa good deal of “background noise,” and a figure as low as 32suggests nothing beyond random scatter. I am grateful to E.French for first raising the issue with me that many such ob-jects may have eroded from the mud brick. To be clear, a roleof kylikes in ceremony and libation is not disputed, but it doesnot follow that every place where fragments appear was a shrine.

24 PoN 1, 185, 209, 344, 348–9.

Fig. 3. Room 93 and the “altar.” (PoN 1, fig. 227, courtesy of the Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati)


in room 7 of the AC,25 again notably not a shrine.Further, there were no figurines in room 93, arti-facts that are a common feature of Mycenaeanshrines (though not exclusive to them). Threesmall, fragmentary figurines were found elsewherein the NEB (which is unremarkable, given the gen-eral scatter of such artifacts throughout the palace)but none in room 93.

Second, the “altar” may be such, but has no cer-tain parallel. Mycenaean altars commonly took theform of benches or platforms set against walls orin corners.26 Freestanding features—hearths andaltars—are found at Mycenae, but none closelyresembles this example. Most are inside, not out-side, the rooms, and all but two of these—an im-portant difference—are associated with burn-ing.27 The only external feature is the “edicule”outside the Tsountas House Shrine. This was alow platform covered in stucco and lined withporos blocks fitted with dowel holes, apparentlyto support some further structure.28 The ediculestood to one side, not in front of, the door.29 Nei-ther shape, nor alignment, nor fittings resemblethe Pylos stone. The decoration on the Pylosstone does suggest a special use, but that neednot mean it was an altar—the idea cannot be sure-ly dismissed, but the absence of convincing par-allels recommends caution.

Third, the floor between the “altar” and the“shrine” has a sharp slope (rising about 0.5 m)30

which, rather than leading from one to the other soas to emphasize a focal line between them, cutsstraight across the axis (see fig. 3). The slope wouldhave been inconvenient ground for rituals meantto unite the “altar” and the “shrine”: its real pur-pose seems to have been to provide a ramp ascend-ing to room 99, perhaps to facilitate the movementof goods.31

Fourth, rather than being a sign of religious im-portance, the antae and “distinctive” appearanceof the facade of room 93 could relate more to thefact that it lies in a continuous line with the mainpalace facade (cf. fig. 1). The “elegance” may re-flect a desire to maintain architectural coherencefor the palace’s frontal aspect.32

Thus, although the room is widely cited as ashrine, the paucity of evidence should be borne inmind when developing hypotheses based on thatinterpretation.

Hall 95 led on from the “colonnade.” The mainitems of note here were a storage jar containing asteatite sealstone33 and numerous sealings found inthe doorways to rooms 96 and 97.34

Room 96 was a small room (3.38 × 2.68 m) con-taining only a couple of stirrup jars and some potterydebris.35 The excavators suggest it was an “adjunct tothe shrine” or “the office of the management of theWorkshop,” but it may simply have been a small store-room. Not enough administrative material is presentto warrant interpretation as an office,36 and there is

25 PoN 1, 95.26 E.g., The Mycenae “Temple” (Room with the Platforms):

Taylour 1983, 49–51, figs. 23, 24, 26; Moore and Taylour 1999,82, pl. 9(a). The Agia Irini shrine: Caskey 1981, 127. The Phy-lakopi shrine: Renfrew 1981, 68–70, figs. 6, 7, 9, 17; 1985.

27 With burning: the Round Altar (Taylour 1983, 61); thehearth in the Room of the Fresco (Taylour 1981, 17); and thehearth in the Citadel House Megaron (Taylour 1983, 59). Thelow platform of the Temple had no burning, but it is nothinglike the Pylos “altar” in height or size—it is much lower andlonger, rather resembling a dais (Taylour 1983, 50). Also with-out burning was the altar in the Tsountas House Shrine, a roughsemicircle with two circular attachments—again nothing likethe Pylos example (Taylour 1983, 49).

28 Taylour 1983, 49; Mylonas 1972, 37.29 See Taylour 1981, plan 2.30 PoN 1, 302.31 The ramp and altar have various phases (PoN 1, 302; AR

1993–1994, 29), but this does not affect the main argument.It has been suggested that room functions might have changedover time so that room 93, if originally a shrine (it seems tohave been earlier than the rest of the building), might havechanged status by the later period. It may be so, but what islacking is evidence for the room being a shrine at any stage.

32 Though not mentioned in PoN, the wideness of the doormight be thought to suggest a “special use”—but the doorways

of rooms 95 and 99, which lie immediately beside the room 93threshold, are comparably wide. The precise door widths ofrooms 93 and 95 are not given, but the rooms were completelyopen at front (at least as regards the stonework), so the doorwidths will be similar to the room widths: ca. 3 m for 93 (PoN 1,303) and 2.80 m for 95 (PoN 1, 307). The doorway into room99 measured 2.95 m (PoN 1, 318). Architectural unity or func-tional accessibility, rather than religious importance, may havebeen the concerns.

33 PoN 1, 307–8. The sealstone is CMS 1, 297 (PoN 1, 308;figs. 311 and 312.1)

34 The precise number and locations of these cannot bedetermined from the published data, which are contradictory.Cf., e.g., “Another sealing came from the doorway into Room96 and five more from the doorway into Room 97” (PoN 1, 307);“seven . . . from doorway into Room 97” (PoN 1, 308); and “13clay sealings” in doorway of room 97 (PoN 1, 310). But else-where Blegen (1959, 124) has 14 clay sealings from the door-way into room 96. Palaima (1988) resolves this type of problemfor Linear B inscribed sealings; but neither he nor Pini (1997,see esp. 101–5, table 4, “Plombenformen nach Räumen ge-ordnet”) deal with findspots of uninscribed sealings in detail.(For sealings in the Wine Magazine, see Palmer 1994.)

35 PoN 1, 309–10.36 In speaking of an “office” here, Blegen and Rawson would

not have had in mind the technical sense of bureau or depart-


no special connection with room 93 except that theyshare a back wall.

Room 97 (6.25 × 6.705 m)37 yielded artifacts ofbronze, quartz, flint, obsidian, and terracotta.38 Thefloor was stained with red and yellow patches. Theexcavators note that “the extent of the fire damagemight imply that a good deal of inflammable mate-rial had been stored here.”39 They tentatively sug-gest that the room was a storage area and, perhaps,given its large size, a workroom as well.

Room 98 (7.12 × 6.25 m) was interpreted as a store-room. Finds included sealings (some inscribed), a tab-let, a mass of melted bronze, bits of obsidian, quartzand flint, a rivet, kylikes, and a piece of stone possiblyfrom a vessel.40 Two storage jars were filled with “anextraordinary variety of colored earth and shiny granu-lar matter that looked like ground up stone.”41 Inten-sive burning around the jars suggested that whateverthey once held was inflammable (perhaps more dyes?).

Room 99 is the largest of the complex (15.725 ×6.45 m). Its door was some 3 m wide and had a wood-en casing. There is extensive evidence that shelvinglined the walls: carbonized wood (including piecesof planks) was associated with stone-lined pits forpost-bases.42 Almost all the Linear B documents fromthe NEB came from—or can be shown to have origi-nated in—room 99.43 There were also numerousuninscribed sealings and a hematite sealstone.44 Thelarge amount of administrative material combinedwith shelving led to the room being interpreted (I

think correctly) as a storeroom and an office—therewas not felt to be sufficient space for this to havebeen a work area as well.45

Room 100 was also large (minimum 7 × 6.4 m).Finds included gold foil, an obsidian core, flint,much ivory, 500+ bronze arrowheads, and a seal-ing.46 The excavators considered that “the ivoriesand the arrowheads certainly point to the conclu-sion that this was the special section in the Work-shop devoted to the making of delicate objects inbronze and ivory.”47 The proposed functions of therooms are summarized as follows: 91, ramp; 92 and94, court and “colonnade”; 93, shrine; 95, hall; 96,office or “adjunct to the shrine”; 97, storage and/orworkroom; 98, storeroom; 99, storeroom and office;and 100, ivory and bronze work area.

That the NEB had extensive evidence for stor-age and administration is beyond doubt, but nei-ther of those features need suggest interpretationas a workshop. The question may be approached bycomparing artifacts from the NEB (tables 1–2) withthose found elsewhere in the palace.48 The com-parison is of value in two ways. First, where the func-tions of other areas are known, we can determine ifthe NEB assemblage resembles something alreadyunderstood. Second, we might expect a workshopassemblage to be in some way distinct,49 and a com-parison will show whether this is so.

Finds from the NEB normally cited in support ofon-site manufacture are knives and blades, chisels,

ment as developed by Olivier (1967, 103–4, 121–35) for Knos-sos, and for which the term “office” is sometimes used in cur-rent scholarship. But whatever their exact intention, “office”must imply some higher level of management, which is not inevidence here. Only sealings are present, which formed thelowest level of the administrative process (see Palaima 1987,259; 2000a, 264; forthcoming; Piteros et al. 1990, 171–84;Driessen 1994–1995, esp. 242), and on their own are consis-tent with simple storeroom assemblages.

37 PoN 1, 310. These and subsequent figures are averages ofthe total widths: e.g., northwest to southeast dimensions varyfrom 6.02 m (southwest wall) to 6.48 m (northeast wall), aver-aging 6.25 m.

38 PoN 1, 311–2.39 PoN 1, 311.40 PoN 1, 316; Palaima 1984, fig. 5A. The bronze mass

weighed nearly 1 kg. (Hofstra 2000, 104).41 PoN 1, 315.42 PoN 1, 319–20.43 Some of the tablets scattered nearby in courts 92 and 94

belong to series stored in room 99, and two Qa tablets foundfurther afield—1259 from court 47 and 1441 from near theAC—can with a high degree of confidence be ascribed to anorigin in room 99. They are written by the same hand as otherQa tablets (Palaima 1988, 168–9, 213) and 1259 is now joinedto Xa 1335 from room 99, putting the matter past doubt (Me-

lena 2000–2001; I am grateful to Professor Melena for permis-sion to refer to this here). Cc 1258, also from court 47, proba-bly comes from room 99. It belongs to stylus S4 of Hand 21, ofwhich one member was found in room 99, with another twoscattered in Cts. 92 and 94. Two more Cc tablets come fromthe AC; these may or may not belong to the same “set” butthere is no reason to think they were in room 99 at the timeof destruction. Of course, given the presence of Cc tablets inthe AC, the court 47 document could have come from thererather than room 99. But the fact that Qa 1259, also found incourt 47, certainly comes from room 99, and the presence ofCc tablets in courts 92 and 94 that lie between court 47 androom 99, strongly suggest that there was a spill of Cc tabletsoriginating in room 99, which spread out in the direction ofcourt 47.

44 PoN 1, 322–3; the sealstone is CMS 1, 298.45 Blegen 1958, 177. PoN 1, 321 mentions only the store-

room aspect. Most later scholars follow the storeroom and of-fice interpretation, although Jasink (1984, 15) sees it also as aworkroom.

46 PoN 1, 323–5.47 PoN 1, 325.48 The data have been checked against Hofstra 2000 (see

infra n. 51).49 For discussions of what a workshop assemblage “should”

look like see, e.g., Evely 1988, 1992; Tournavitou 1988.


Table 1. Whole or Mostly Whole Pots from the NEB

Type of VesselRm.91

Rm.92

Rm.93

Rm.94

Rm.95

Rm.96

Rm.97

Rm.98

Rm.99

Rm.100

Note: This table lists all pottery from the building published in PoN 1 except unjoined pot sherds.a Red ware.

Food bowlsBowl, handmadeBowl (4)

Drinking vesselsCup (11)Cup (12)KraterKrater, pedestaled (63) dec.Krater-bowl (60)Kylix (27)Kylix (29c)Tankard (33)

Pouring and serving (food and drink)Bowl, deep, spoutedBowl (9)Jug (37)

Dipper/scoopDipper (21)Scoop

Cooking vesselsJug (39)Jug (40)Krater (58)Krater (59)

Storage and serving, liquids (drinks andoils)AmphoraAmphora (45)Amphora (45) dec.Jar (49)Stirrup jar, dec.Stirrup jar, lg.Stirrup jar (65b, 1) dec.Stirrup jar (65d) dec.

Storage and displayStorage jar (57)

UnclearJar, wide-mouthed, sm., vert.-hdls.Jar, wide-mouthed, med., hrzt.-hdls.Jar, wide-mouthedJar/jug, high-necked, lg.Jug or amphora?Pot, closed, lg., semi-coarsePot, closed, lg., paintedPot, coarseStorage jar, wide-mouthed, lg.,

coarseUnidentified

Other (sherds)Kylix stemsCup/bowl bases

––

–––––––1

–––

––

––––

––––––––

–

––––––––

––

445239

––

––––––––

–––

––

––––

–––––1––

–

–––1a

1a

–––

––

27567

––

––––––––

–––

––

––––

––––––––

–

––––––––

––

3216

––

–––1––––

–––

––

––––

–1–1a

––––

–

––––12–1

––

7945

––

–––12–––

––1

––

––––

––––––––

–

––––1a

–1–

1–

8740

––

––––––––

–––

––

––––

––––––11

–

––––––––

––

14552

––

––––––––

–––

––

–––1

–––1––––

–

––––––––

–2

300122

12

11–1136–

12–

11

2112

111–––––

1

11–2––1–

––

18515

––

––11––––

–––

––

1–––

––1–2–11

–

––2–––––

––

352150

––

––––––––

–––

––

––––

––––––––

–

––––––––

––

5340


flakes of obsidian and flint, obsidian cores, whetstones,a stone celt,50 and abundant pieces of bronze and ivo-ry. Comparison of artifacts was achieved through com-piling a database of all finds in inventory lists to indi-vidual rooms published in PoN 1.51 The database (fol-lowing the inventories) was arranged by material type,then sorted according to function in order to eluci-date the function of the building. Artifact distribu-tions were then plotted on plans of the palace.

An important problem is that the inventories inPoN sometimes do not give exact numbers of itemsfound, simply noting “many,” “few,” or the like.Where it was not possible to obtain the figures fromother sources,52 the figures show by convention:many and numerous = 8 items; several = 5 items;some and few = 4 items. Instances where items suchas “chips and flakes” are noted as present but arenot enumerated are also counted as 4. This proce-dure introduces uncertainty in some cases, but theconsistency seen in the distributions of differentobject types in different materials suggests that thegeneral patterns observed are substantially valid.

The following conventions were used in creat-ing the figures:

1. Items whose functions are only tentatively iden-tified are surcharged with a question mark.

2. Upper and lower floor deposits are not distin-guished, since in most cases the data are in-sufficient to identify them with certainty. Themajority are not relevant to our purpose herealthough a few relevant instances are noted.53

3. Items shown inside the wall around rooms 7and 8 came from the so-called chasm createdby post-destruction ashlar quarrying.54

4. Counts for rooms 23 and 24 include the con-tents of pithoi.

5. Rooms 89–90 are post-Mycenaean, but are in-cluded for reference.55

6. Artifacts shown on the edge of the Southwest-ern Area came from spill off the side of thecitadel. No attempt is made to place these inindividual trenches since they in any case comefrom mixed contexts.56

The dispersal of blades and knives throughoutthe palace57 is fairly random, and there is no spe-cial association with the NEB (fig. 4). A few itemscome from storerooms, such as rooms 23, 31, and105, so their presence is consistent with (thoughnot limited to) storeroom contexts.

There is a slight concentration of chisels in theNEB (fig. 5),58 but two of the items are very frag-mentary. The piece from court 94 is a broken bit

50 Two are now reported (see table 2).51 It was not possible to examine the Pylos artifacts or exca-

vation notebooks in preparing this article, but the data havebeen checked against a recent doctoral study of the materialby S. Hofstra. I am grateful to S. Hofstra for permission to useher work and for kindly providing me with a copy. The onlymajor discrepancy which emerged in comparison with the pub-lished data was that more flint and chert came from the NEBthan PoN suggests. The remainder of the data are encourag-ingly similar, though reference to Hofstra has allowed correc-tion of numerous points. For on-going work on reorganizingand studying the Pylos excavation material, the ChoraApotheke Reorganization Project (HARP) under the directionof S. Stocker on behalf of PRAP, see AR 1997–1998, 53–4;1998–1999, 51–3; 1999–2000, 52–4. Information on PRAP sitesand artifacts is available on the Internet at http://river.blg.uc.edu/prap/PRAP.html; I am grateful to J. Bennetfor this reference.

52 Especially Hofstra 2000.53 E.g., much bronze and ivory from room 6 and rooms 23–24

was probably fallen from an upper floor; see Hofstra 2000, 108.54 PoN 1, 92, 95–6. But see also AR 1995–1996, 19.55 PoN 1, 296; AR 1992–1993, 34. Items from mixed strata of

black earth containing Geometric material (for instance inroom 42) are also included since there is no way systematicallyto exclude them, but they are present in such small numbersas will not affect the patterning.

56 The material listed for room 65 also came from over theedge of the slope (PoN 1, 258), but is more clearly presentedby showing it in the room.

57 Bronze sword blades, where identifiable, are excluded. The

knife from rooms 89–90 may be post-Mycenaean (PoN 1, 297,fig. 274.6); it is a standard Mycenaean type that did, however,carry on into the early post-Mycenaean period (Hofstra 2000,90). Data for flint and obsidian blades are derived from Hofstra2000, 268–71, table 5.3, and PoN 1, except where specificallycontradicted by Hofstra. Bronze items are more complicatedand are derived as follows. “Propylon/Chasm area”: one item(Hofstra 2000, 91). Room 3: one item (PoN 1, 65, fig. 268.c).Room 4: two items (PoN 1, 70–1, fig. 274.5; Hofstra 2000, 90).Room 5: one item (PoN 1, 76, fig. 268a; Hofstra 2000, 90).Room 6: one possible knife, southwest section; one probableknife or weapon, southeast section (PoN 1, 90). Room 7: PoN1, 94–5 describes one definite (fig. 265.3) and one possible(fig. 266.1) blade, plus a sword (fig. 274.4); only the sword isdiscussed by Hofstra (2000, 99–100). Room 10: Hofstra (2000,90) confirms a knife suggested in PoN 1 (105, fig. 278.6); therewas also a sword (PoN 1, 105, fig. 278.7; Hosftra 2000, 100–1).Room 12: two items (PoN 1, 109, fig. 278.12.15; Hofstra 2000,90). Room 24: fragments of one or more blades, possibly ser-rated (Hofstra 2000, 90). Southwestern Area: one item (PoN1, 285, fig. 302.5). Room 99: Hofstra (2000, 90) reports oneblade fragment, presumably that in PoN 1, 322, fig. 316.3. Sheidentifies the possible chisel or knife tang (PoN 1, 322, fig.316.5) as a chisel.

58 Chisels, or possible chisels, are reported in PoN fromrooms 52, 62, 94, 99 (two items), and the Southwestern Area.A piece from the Southwestern Area mentioned as a possiblechisel (PoN 1, 285; fig. 302.6) is identified by Hofstra as a“slim tanged point” (Hofstra 2000, 88 n. 179), so is excludedhere (the one shown is PoN 1, 285; fig. 302.12). Anotherchisel came probably from room 76 (Hofstra 2000, 89).


–––

–3–

–––

–

––

–

–––

–––

––

––

1––

–4

1––

––

––––

7––

–1–

–23

–

––

–

–––

–––

––

––

–1–

–3

–––

––

––––

–––

–––

–––

–

––

–

–––

–––

––

––

–––

x–

–––

––

––1–

251

–1–

––1

–

1–

–

–––

–––

––

––

–––

––

1?––

––

––––

m––

–––

–––

1

––

–

1––

1–1

––

s2

–––

–x

–––

1–

11––

–––

–––

–––

–

––

–

–––

–––

––

––

–––

––

–––

––

––––

12+1–

–11

–11

1

––

–

–1–

–––

1–

––

–––

–m

–––

––

–––1?

––1

–––

–1–

–

––

–

–––

–––

12

––

–1–

–m

1––

––

–1––

45+1–

13–

122

–

11

m

––1

–––

––

s–

––1

––

114

–1

––––

BronzeStoneStone

StoneStoneClay

BronzeStoneStone

Stone

BronzeBronze

Lead

ClayClayClay

GoldGoldSilver

StoneStone

IvoryIvory

ClayClayClay

StoneStone

BronzeBronzeBronze

StoneStone

SilverBronzeBronzeBronze

Table 2. Non-Vessel Artifacts from the NEB

Type of Artifact

ArrowheadsArrowhead (including frr.)Flint arrowheadObsidian arrowhead

Beads and ButtonsCrystal beadSteatite buttonButton, biconical

Blades and knivesKnife bladeFlint bladeObsidian blade

CeltCelt, serpentine

ChiselsChiselStrip (chisel or knife tang)

Clamps (to mend pots?)Pieces, melted

FigurinesAnimal (horse?)Seated femaleHead, bird-like, fem.

Gold and silverFoil piece(probably rosette)Foil fragmentsStrip, thin, flat

Ground stoneWhetstoneGrinder

IvoryFragment/bitFragment, rectagular section

Loomweights and whorlsLoomweightWhorlWhorl, biconical

QuartzQuartz flake/chipQuartz piece

Rivets and rivet holesRivet/rivet-headPiece, curved, with rivet holeStrips with rivets(chariot parts?)

SealstonesSealstone (steatite?)Hematite lentoid sealstone

Wire, pins, needles, and awlsCoil of thin wire“Slim tanged point”Wire, small piece (needle)Pin head

Rm.91

Rm.92

Rm.93

Rm. 94

Rm.95

Rm.96

Rm. 97

Rm.98

Rm.99

Rm.100

501+1–

–––

–1–

–

––

–

–––

–2–

––

m–

–––

––

1––

––

––––

Material


barely 2 cm long (fig. 6, second from top left).59 Onepiece from room 99 is described as a “strip, possiblypart of a chisel or tang of a knife” (fig. 7, second frombottom right).60 The final piece from room 99, al-though very small (8.7 cm) and thin (0.25 cm), ismore impressive (fig. 7, far right).61 It would not havebeen suitable for heavy-duty manufacture, but could

have been used for light work in wood or ivory.62 Itconstitutes the best single piece of evidence for man-ufacture in the NEB, but chisels are found elsewherein the palace and one wonders whether this too mightnot have been an item in store.63

Figures 8 and 9 show all flint and obsidian ex-cept arrowheads and blades.64 In general, chips and

Table 2. Non-Vessel Artifacts from the NEB (continued)

Type of Artifact

Bronze, otherBits, smallFragments, nondescriptFragment, flat, thinPiece, thin, folded overStrip, flat, folded overSheeting, thin (“puddle”)

Flint, otherFlint chunks, flakes, chips

Obsidian, otherObsidian “core”Obsidian flakes and chips

Stone, otherFragmentMarble pieces, worked, joiningFragment, possibly of handleColored chips

Rm.91

Rm.92

Rm.93

Rm. 94

Rm.95

Rm.96

Rm. 97

Rm.98

Rm.99

Rm.100

4–––––

6

–5

15––

–m––––

45

1x

––––

––––––

x

–2

––––

––––––

m

–1

––––

––––––

16

–x

–––x

––––––

s

–s

––––

–––1––

s

1x

––––

–m1–11

51

–11

––1–

–m––––

37

–7

––––

–x––1–

–

11

––––

Material

BronzeBronzeBronzeBronzeBronzeBronze

Stone

StoneStone

StoneStoneStoneStone

Note: m = many, numerous; s = some, several; x = present: more than one, but number unspecified. This table lists all non-potteryartifacts from the building published in PoN 1, taking into account the following points.

Omitted: The following items are omitted: ramp 91: an iron nail from mixed Geometric context (PoN 1, 301); court 92: loomweight described as “possibly Greek” (PoN 1, 303); room 97: finds from shaft grave beneath floor (PoN 1, 312–4).

Differences: The following are differences from PoN reported by Hofstra: room 93: the “small piece of wire” (PoN 1, 305) is identified by Hofstra (2000, 92) as a needle; room 94: Hofstra (2000, 263) reports at least one obsidian blade; room 95: counts for bronze arrowheads mostly tally in PoN and Hofstra (2000, 97), except that PoN mentions “many” from room

95 (in the room description, not the inventory; see PoN 1, 307); rooms 95 and 97: Hofstra (2000, 254–5) reports serpentine celts from rooms 95 (MX 2521) and 97; only the latter is mentioned

in PoN (1, 311; fig. 308.4); rooms 95 and 97: pieces described as bronze “wire” in PoN are identified by Hofstra as “slim tanged points”; room 97: “some flint” reported by Hofstra (2000, 67); PoN records only a blade and an arrowhead; room 97: 12+ bronze arrowhead fragments (Hofstra 2000, 97); PoN (1, 311) reports 2; room 98: the “thin sheeting” of PoN is a “puddle” (nearly 1 kg.) of melted bronze (Hofstra 2000, 70, 104–5); room 98: a whetstone and two grinders (Hofstra 2000, 252, citing Rawson’s excavation notebook [1957] 185–6) do not appear

in the PoN inventory and could not be located in Chora Museum. The whetstone possibly might be the piece described asa stone“fragment, possibly of flattened handle” (PoN 1, 316; fig. 314.7).

59 PoN 1, 306; fig. 307.2.60 PoN 1, 322; fig. 316.5. Hofstra (2000, 89) includes the

piece in her account of chisels, but an item described as a “frag-ment of blade” has the same museum number, MX 2346 (Hof-stra 2000, 91).

61 PoN 1, 322; fig. 316.6. The identification as a chisel isconfirmed by Hofstra 2000, 71, 89; 304, fig. 6 (showing a sharptapered edge). For Aegean chisels see, e.g., Evely 1993.

62 Hofstra 2000, 89.63 Flouda (2000, 222) makes an important point that the

bronze items from the NEB do not comprise “tool-kits.”

64 The data are derived from PoN 1 together with Hofstra2000, 268–71 (table 5.3), supplemented by 258–67. Table 5.3gives counts in separate columns for points, blades, denticu-lates (flint only; I count these as “blades”), and totals. I take as“chips and flakes” the total counts minus those for other cate-gories (supplemented by information from PoN ). Hofstra givestotals for rooms 26–27 together, which I show as a spread acrossthe two rooms. Rooms 71–72 are also counted together; I showthe items in the doorway. For notes on rooms 91–100, see ta-ble 2. For 20 obsidian blades from rooms 23–26, see Hofstra2000, 263.


flakes are found all over the palace. There is someconcentration in storage areas, though the pat-tern is not strong—the distribution is nearly ran-dom, and the possibility of erosion from the mud-brick should be noted. The fact that chips andflakes can be associated with storerooms meansthat their presence in the NEB is in no way uniqueor exceptional for storage areas, and adds scantsupport to the workshop hypothesis. Chippedstone might have been a useful item to have onhand in storage areas (for instance, for cuttingstring) and need not be indicative of workshopproduction. Two points require further comment,however.

First, three obsidian “cores” come from the NEBand four from elsewhere in the palace. Two fromstorerooms (rooms 27 and 50) show that associationwith storage areas is unremarkable. There is a slightconcentration in the NEB, but nothing suggests thecores were actually used there. Knapping would haveleft more debitage.65 Also, the PoN illustrations sug-gest the pieces are more “chunks” than propercores.66 Even if the items were cores, they might havebeen stored rather than used in the building—oreroded from the mudbrick (see below).

Second, Hofstra now indicates the presence ofmore flint in the NEB than was apparent in the PoNdata, but in terms of the general distribution it

Fig. 4. Distribution of blades and knives at Pylos. (PoN 1, key plan, courtesy of the Department of Classics, University ofCincinnati; with my additions based on PoN 1 and Hofstra 2000)

65 There is no evidence for refitting that I am aware of,though the material has yet to be examined by a specialist(noted in Hofstra 2000, 264).

66 Room 92: PoN 1, fig. 306, one of 14–16, probably 14. Room97: PoN 1, fig. 308, one of 6–8, probably 8. Room 100: PoN 1,

fig. 319.1. Hofstra, who has examined the actual pieces, con-curs: “The ‘cores’ so named by Blegen/Rawson are unusuallylarge chunk-like pieces but do not appear to be classic conicalor tabular cores” (Hofstra 2000, 263, n. 518).


should be noted that her figures are based on ma-terial currently present in the Chora Museum.67 Thehigh counts for the NEB suggest that the excava-tors preserved chipped stone from the building,which is not the case for all areas of the palace.There are explicit references in the notebooks tochipped stone being discarded by excavation su-pervisors,68 and some material is known to have beenremoved to the National Museum in Athens.69 Togive an example of missing material, PoN records28 pieces of flint from room 2370 plus 22 from room

24,71 but only a single piece from the two roomsnow appears to be in Chora.72 The situation for ob-sidian is similar. The high counts for flint in theNEB should be seen against this backdrop, sincemissing material cannot now be comprehensivelyaccounted for.

Also relevant is Hofstra’s view that the flint as-semblages may include material that is not hu-man-modified.73 Chert was probably obtained fromlocal sources,74 raising the possibility that someof it came in as inclusions in building materials.

67 Hofstra 2000, 268–71, table 5.3 (showing data on chippedstone from the palace LH IIIB destruction fill in the ChoraMuseum), occasionally supplemented with data from her dis-cussion, 258–72.

68 Hofstra 2000, 259.69 For instance, from the AC (Hofstra 2000, 268 n. 526, cit-

ing pers. comm. from J. Melena).70 PoN 1, 137 records 26 pieces; there were two more in

Pithos 3 (PoN 1, 138).71 PoN 1, 140 records 21 pieces; there was another in Pithos

11 (PoN 1, 142).72 Hofstra 2000, 268. Note some bronze from rooms 23–24

was certainly discarded (Hofstra 2000, 85).73 Hofstra 2000, 263 n. 519.74 Hofstra 2000, 265 with n. 522.

Fig. 5. Distribution of chisels at Pylos. (PoN 1, key plan, courtesy of the Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati; withmy additions based on PoN 1 and Hofstra 2000.)


Hofstra remarks that even some of the worked items,particularly flint denticulates, were severely wornin a way consistent with their having been incorpo-rated as wall fill.75 Such a phenomenon would notnecessarily affect all areas of the palace with equalforce. The NEB was the last structure built at thepalace and its construction materials may have beenselected from different sources than those usedfor the main building. It may be relevant that theNEB flint was mostly of a dark red type, whereasvarious types including buff and different shadesof red were found in the remainder of the palace.

No distribution maps have been produced forthe celts and whetstones. No other celts came fromthe palace, though a few were found elsewhere on

the hill.76 Other whetstones came from the“chasm,”77 court 63,78 room 103c,79 and the south-west spill (five items).80 The one from room 97 is abare 4.7 cm long.81 Hofstra notes that, althoughcalled “whetstones,” the function of these items hasnot been “comprehensively investigated.”82 One celtand two whetstones, whatever their function, addscant support to the workshop argument.

Finally, large amounts of ivory and bronze are cit-ed as supporting the workshop interpretation. Yetsuch finds are consistent with storage and cannotin themselves be taken as evidence for on-the-spotmanufacture. While much bronze was found in theNEB, large deposits also were found in other, non-workshop, areas of the palace.83 Ivory is found

Fig. 6. Chisel/knife haft and other objects from court 94. (PoN 1, fig. 307, courtesy of the Department ofClassics, University of Cincinnati)

75 Hofstra (2000, 266) notes that the presence of arrowheadsof an early type may result from their erosion from walls. Seealso Hofstra 2000, 258–9.

76 Tholos IV (PoN 3, 31, 47, 61, 102, 127); I am indebted toHofstra (2000, 255) for bringing this to my attention. Hofstra(2000, 255) suggests the NEB item may have come from theshaft grave beneath room 97.

77 PoN 1, 100.78 PoN 1, 246 (there was also a pounder).79 Reported by Hofstra (2000, 254), but not PoN 1 (see 340

for list of finds, and 337–8 for description of 103c).80 PoN 1, 284, 286 reports six, but Hofstra identifies one of

these (PoN 1, 284; fig. 300.2) as a section of “decorative stonemoulding” (Hofstra 2000, 254 n. 499). Further examples ofwhetstones were found elsewhere on the hill (Hofstra 2000,253).

81 PoN 1, 311; fig. 308.5.82 Hofstra 2000, 254.83 E.g., literally hundreds of pieces were found in room 6

(PoN 1, 90) and rooms 23 and 24 (PoN 1, 137, 141). Hofstra(2000, 109) agrees: “Despite Blegen’s references to large quan-tities of bronze in parts of the Northeastern Building, the roomsthere did not generally yield a substantially greater amount ofbronze than areas of the Main Building.”


throughout the palace in areas where it was used(as opposed to worked) and especially where it wasstored.84 It is instructive to look at other large ivorydeposits outside of Pylos. The massive deposits inthe House of Sphinxes and House of Shields atMycenae (ca. 18,700 pieces)85 were also formerlymooted as evidence for workshop production. Buta true workshop assemblage should feature a highproportion of unfinished pieces and waste (e.g.,ca. 50%), while such items made up only 1.6% ofthe material at Mycenae.86 The conclusion was thatthey were pieces in storage and had not beenworked in or near the places where they were found.Similarly, Hofstra concludes that the Pylos materialdoes not constitute a workshop assemblage, but ismade up of “finished and polished inlays,” proba-bly belonging to items of furniture in storage.87

Molds and possibly awls are absent from the build-ing. Perhaps we should not expect molds, since itis not suggested that melting of metals took placein the building,88 but awls might be expected in anarea where leatherworking was supposedly a mainactivity. Awls were reported from room 989 and theSouthwestern Area,90 so they do occur at Pylos—butapparently not in the NEB.91 Finally, Hofstra notes alack of bone tools from the entire palace.92

None of the finds discussed above compels in-terpretation of the NEB as a workshop. In each case,the artifacts are randomly dispersed throughout thepalace, are common in storerooms, or both. Ran-domly dispersed items tell us nothing about thefunction of the NEB, since they are found in roomswith a variety of functions. Items associated with store-rooms suggest nothing beyond what was already

84 The largest ivory deposit came not from the NEB, but froman upper floor above rooms 23–24; see AR 1999–2000, 53.

85 Tournavitou 1995, 190. (The count is for the whole WestHouse group, but only 22 pieces were found outside the Houseof Shields and House of Sphinxes.)

86 Tournavitou 1995, 123, 190–3. See also Tournavitou 1988,453–4; Evely 1988, 408–9; Shelmerdine 1997b, 393.

87 Hofstra in AR 1998–1999, 52–3; Hofstra 2000, 155–8. Seealso Flouda 2000, 221.

88 Hofstra (2000, 81) agrees about the lack of evidence formetal working facilities in the building. For molds at Pylos, seeAR 1998–1999, 49.

89 PoN 1, 102; fig. 278.1.90 PoN 1, 285; fig. 302.7. The item from room 89 (PoN 1,

297; fig. 299.3) may be post-Mycenaean.91 Hofstra’s work may change this picture. Most of the PoN

“awls” are described by Hofstra (2000, 87–8) as “slim tangedpoints.” As she discusses, the functions of these objects areuncertain, and indeed artifacts with different functions, fromawls to projectile points, may be included in the description. Apiece from room 98 (“probably a pin” according to PoN 1, 316;fig. 314.1) may be “an awl or similar piercing tool” (Hofstra2000, 88), a needle (2000, 92) or wire (2000, 110). A piecefrom room 95 (“a bit of thick bronze wire” according to PoN 1,307; not illustrated) may be a needle (2000, 92), a projectilepoint or fine pointed tool (2000, 88).

92 Hofstra 2000, 237.

Fig. 7. Miscellaneous objects of bronze from room 99. (PoN 1, fig. 316.1–6, courtesy of the Department ofClassics, University of Cincinnati)


known, from evidence for shelving and so forth,that the NEB was used for storage. It is difficult toconclude on the basis of these artifacts that theNEB was also a site of manufacture. The most sig-nificant items pointing in this direction are thechisels and the obsidian cores, but both sorts ofitems are found also in other storage areas in thepalace and the cores are more “chunks” than cores,while the chisels are few, small, and fragmentary.The archaeology alone, without the documentaryevidence, does not support interpretation of theNEB as a workshop.93

Space precludes discussion of the remaining ar-tifacts in detail; in brief, their distributions are sim-ilar to those described above—random dispersalor concentrations in storerooms—with three excep-tions: arrowheads, sealings, and Linear B tablets.

Flint and obsidian arrowheads are randomly dis-persed, but bronze arrowheads are overwhelming-ly concentrated in the NEB (fig. 10).94 Between 500and 600 were found there, compared with just 18from the rest of the palace, 11 from a single contextin a drain. An interpretation of the building as anarmory, long ago proposed by Blegen, receives somesupport from the archaeological data (though, ashe noted, lack of domestic assemblages precludesuse as a garrison).

the administrative context of nebdocuments and sealings

Like other artifacts, the distributions of Linear Bdocuments and sealings can be plotted (fig. 11).Most documents—some 81%—were found in rooms7 and 8 (the AC).95 Others were scattered about in

Fig. 8. Distribution of flint at Pylos. (PoN 1, key plan, courtesy of the Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati; withadditions based on PoN 1 and Hofstra 2000)

93 As Hofstra and Flouda also conclude.94 Data for arrowheads is derived from PoN (except where

specifically contradicted by Hofstra) supplemented by Hofstra

2000, 94–9, 268–71, table 5.3.95 Palaima 1984, 33; 1988, 172.


small groups termed “deposits.” Palaima distin-guished “deposit” groups from “archives” in vari-ous ways.96 An “archives” involves more, longer tab-lets, written by multiple scribes and dealing withdiverse subjects. “Deposits” have fewer, shorter tab-lets, dealing with single subjects and involving oneor a very few scribes.

The distinction between “deposits” and “ar-chives” lies in how Pylian scribes operated andmoved through the palace.97 “Deposit” records weregenerally written in storerooms and dealt with goodskept in them.98 “Archives” might include storeroomtablets that had been moved there for processingand storage, but would also contain important cen-

tral records dealing with matters such as land ten-ure, taxation, and so forth. The distinction doesnot lie in the tablets themselves, which all belongto a single, unified administrative system, but invariations in the types of groupings, showing differ-ent aspects of the overall system.

The NEB “Deposit” versus “Archives”Palaima’s “archives”/“deposits” distinction leads

to a coherent general picture of how the Pylianadministrative system operated, but within this pic-ture the NEB presents an anomaly.99 Palaima calledthe NEB assemblage a “deposit,” but it is dissimilarfrom other deposits (see table 3).

96 Palaima 1984; 1988, esp. 172–81; forthcoming. Specificfeatures of the Pylian system cannot necessarily be extendedto other Mycenaean palaces. Knossos operated differently, withno central archive (but see Olivier 1984, 17; Driessen 1999,esp. 221) and few deposits, but with two further levels of orga-nization: specialized and nonspecialized bureaux or depart-ments (Olivier 1967, esp. 101–36; 1984, esp. 14–7; Palaima 1988,

180–1, 187–8; forthcoming). Also note the Pylos “archives” arenot necessarily comparable with other ancient or modern “ar-chives” (Driessen 1994–1995; 1999; Palaima forthcoming).

97 Palaima and Wright 1985.98 Palaima 1988, 186.99 On this see now Palaima 2000a, forthcoming.

Fig. 9. Distribution of obsidian at Pylos. (PoN 1, key plan, courtesy of the Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati; withmy additions based on PoN 1 and Hofstra 2000)


The NEB document group differs in severalways.100 First, its ca. 79 Linear B documents far ex-ceed the numbers found elsewhere. Even the South-western Area has only about half as many.101 Further,the NEB “deposit” displays some features witnessedin the AC.102 Palaima observes: “An archives is char-acterized by several of the following features: (a)records dealing with a variety of subjects; (b) coher-ent sets of records and dossiers of sets; (c) longerrecords, such as summaries, compilations, and finalrecensions, that are of more than temporary impor-tance; (d) records written by different scribes; (e)evidence of scribal interaction; (f ) evidence of sys-tematic arrangement and filing.”103 The NEB is ex-amined in light of each of these points.

Variety of subjects. No other “deposit,” even wheremore than one series is involved, deals with morethan one subject—for instance, perfume, wine, ortextiles. But the NEB tablets deal with men, livestock,bronze, textiles, wheels, harnesses, skins, foodstuffs,wine, bedding, and several other commodities. Thevariety resembles the wide-ranging interests of thecentral archives more than the limited scope of a “de-posit.” It is worth noting that the number of subjectsis not a simple function of more tablets being present:the Southwestern Area has about half as many docu-ments as the NEB, but does not deal with half as manysubjects—only textiles are represented.104

Coherent sets of records and dossiers of sets. The Acand Qa tablets each form coherent sets, and the

Fig. 10. Distribution of arrowheads at Pylos. (PoN 1, key plan, courtesy of the Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati;with my additions based on PoN 1 and Hofstra 2000)

100 See Flouda (2000, 237) for a similar point with regard tothe inscribed nodules of rooms 98, 99, and 105.

101 Note some of the fragments in this area come from theAC, so the group is not as large as the present count seems tosuggest. See Shelmerdine 1998–1999.

102 Noted also by Tegyey 1984, 75–6.103 Palaima 1988, 180; forthcoming.104 An important point in regard to whether the Southwest-

ern Area qualifies as a “subsidiary archives” (Palaima 1984, 33;Shelmerdine 1998–1999).


number of tablets in the Qa series is larger thanthat found in any other set outside the AC. It islikely that the Sa series was originally written in theNEB (see below), and the Sh series may have beenalso.105 Palaima suggests that the Cc tablets foundin the AC may have been written in the NEB,106

though these do not apparently belong to a singleunified “set.”

Longer records of “more than temporary importance.” Amajority of the longer records and page-shaped tab-

lets found outside the AC come from the NEB.107

Several tablets include the word o-pe-ro /ophelos/“debt, deficit, owing,” a common rubric in AC taxa-tion records. Such records were kept until the debtwas paid.108 Ub 1317 describes a debt as pe-ru-si-nwa-o /perusinwa4n/ “last year’s,” indicating a significanttime-span for the concerns of the document, andhence of NEB administrative concerns.109

Different scribes. Other deposits have tablets writ-ten by one to three securely identifiable Hands,

105 Shelmerdine 1987b, 334–5; Palaima 1988, 91–4 (esp. 93),156, 183; 1996a, esp. 382, 384; 1996b. See also Chadwick 1958,4. For the importance of sets see, e.g., Chadwick 1968, esp.11–3.

106 Palaima 1988, 85.107 Cf. Palaima 1988, 181. Eighteen page-shaped tablets

come from the NEB, 11 from the Southwestern Area (the Mntablets—others in this area are displaced from the AC), onefrom room 20 and one from the doorway of rooms 71–72. Dries-sen (1999, 225) counts just four from room 99 and one fromelsewhere, but I include documents intermediate between

palm-leaf and page-shaped (see Docs2, 111, 406) that havegreater affinities to the latter type. They are wider than theyare high but, unlike palm-leaf shaped records, contain multi-ple entries and more extensive information. To count a tab-let such as Ub 1318, for instance, as “palm-leaf shaped” is mis-leading, whatever its small letter classification.

108 See Killen 1984.109 Palaima (forthcoming) points out that time references

are confined to the AC and room 99, marking these two col-lections of records as different from “strict ‘deposits’ of tabletsfound in areas such as the oil storeroom (room 23).”

Fig. 11. Distribution of Linear B documents at Pylos. (PoN 1, key plan, courtesy of the Department of Classics, University ofCincinnati; with my additions based on Bennett and Olivier 1973, 1976; PoN 4; and Palaima 1988)


with the majority of documents in each case writtenby a single scribe. The NEB has documents writtenby at least seven identifiable Hands (H12, 15[=33?],110 21, 26, 31, 32, 34), in addition to two Styliand numerous documents classified only as Ci, Cii,or Ciii. Ten is a likely minimum for the number ofscribes with documents in the building. Though fall-ing short of the AC with some 26 scribes, this farexceeds the numbers attested in any other deposit.

Scribal interaction. By “scribal interaction” I un-derstand Palaima to mean cases where scribes makeredactions of series written in part or in whole byother scribes (e.g., the Eb and Ep series), instanceswhere a scribe adds text or makes corrections to atablet written primarily by a different scribe, and, ingeneral, evidence of scribes working together. Wedo not have evidence for the first type of interac-tion from the NEB, but some of the series written inthe NEB may have been intended for further pro-cessing in the AC. Nor is there evidence for differ-ent scribes writing on the same tablet, but one NEBscribe (H21) does interact with another scribe (H1)in this way on several AC tablets. Finally, there is

evidence for NEB scribes working with scribes inthe AC in terms of recording the same personnel,as discussed below.

Evidence for filing. The NEB has evidence for or-derly filing and systematic arrangement (figs. 12–13).111 Most tablets were found in room 99 halfwayalong the southwest wall. They were jumbled to-gether as they fell from the burning shelves in thefinal destruction, but remains of a few coherentgroups indicate that related sets of tablets were orig-inally filed together. For instance, the Ac tabletswere found in Area C, and the Qa tablets were clus-tered in Areas A and B (the set may have been storedin two separate containers, perhaps on account ofits large size, one of which fell straight down, whilethe other was thrown out from the wall).

SummaryThe NEB deposit displays all Palaima’s criteria

for an archives except scribal interaction. The cri-teria are not as strongly in evidence as in the AC,but they clearly distinguish the NEB group in char-acter from any other deposit. The hybrid nature of

Table 3. Pylos Deposits Apart from the NEB

62023–2432–4171–72105SW Area

15 (+ 3 Xa)134171 (+ 4 X-)437 (+ ca. 17 X-)

Le, AeTnFr, Wo, WrFr, WoFr (?)WrMb, Mn, Ob

Textiles, textile workersVesselsPerfumed oilPerfumed oilUnknownWineTextiles (*146, *166+WE)

H13, S628-Ciii, S632-Ciii, CiiiCiiiH2, H44, S1217-Cii, S1219-Cii, CiiH2, H44, H41, H34, S1203-CiiCiiH13, S628-Ciii, CiH14, H43(?), S1398-Cii, Ci, Ciii

RoomsNumber ofDocuments

SeriesRepresented Subjects Dealt With Hands and Styli Present

Note: The table is based on data in Palaima 1988, 173–7 (table IV-1), but documents are included under rooms whence they probablyoriginated, rather than strictly where they were found. Thus the count for rooms 23–24 includes one from court 63, since thistablet probably originated in room 23. Two La tablets from the Southwest Area belong to a set from room 6 and share theircharacteristic color (Palaima 1988, 164) so are included there, while the Eb tablet of rooms 5–6 must come from the AC and hasbeen excluded. Two Fr tablets from Area 103 probably came from rooms 32–41. Note two Wr documents (rooms 24 and 32) are notsealings and are now reclassified Wo (Olivier 1997, 80–1). Three unprovenanced Wr documents are excluded; two are probablyfrom the NEB. Also excluded are a few documents thought to be from an earlier phase of the palace (Palaima 1988, 169). X- Classdocuments are not systematically included. Data on them are derived primarily from Palaima (1988, 218–22) but this class is amongthe most likely to be affected by the past decade’s work on new joins, so the present account is subject to change (though thegeneral outlines should not be substantially altered). Also, the majority of those relevant here are from the Southwestern Area,which is the subject of a new study by Shelmerdine (1998–1999), obviating the need for a detailed account here. I am grateful toC.W. Shelmerdine for making the text available to me before publication.

110 It is now suspect whether the Qa series was actually writ-ten by two different scribes since Qa 1307, attributed to H33,is now joined to Qa 1303, attributed to H15 (Melena 2000–2001). I am grateful to Professor Melena for permission tomention this in advance of publication. The ascription of Qa1307 to H33, however, had been made on scant evidence sowe cannot automatically infer that H33 = H15. A similar prob-lem of scribal ascription may be mentioned here, though itdoes not affect our interpretation of the texts. Vn 1339, as-

cribed to a Class iii scribe, is now joined to Xn 1340, ascribed toa Class ii scribe, plus Xn 1449, ascribed to S995-H91 (Palaima1988, 221). These ascriptions are now untenable. Melena(1996–1997a, 166) suggests that the tablet as a whole resem-bles Ciii, which I follow here. Bennett and Olivier (1976, 68)had also ascribed Xn 1449 to Ciii.

111 Data for figures 12 and 13 are based on Palaima 1988,esp. 152–9, 167, taking into account new joins (see table 5)and PoN 4. See table 4 for further notes.


the group makes it begin to look like a minor orsecondary archives, or perhaps something along thelines of a bureau or department, such as at Knossos.112

Another feature of an archives is that it shouldbe at “a point of easy access.”113 As Palaima observes,“scribes moving to these buildings from anywherewithin the palace had to pass by the AC. In fact alltraffic into and out of the late LH III B palace hadto pass near the all-important AC.”114 Compare theplacement of the NEB, near the main palace gate

and facing onto the main courtyard (court 58).115

The NEB is as easy—if not easier—to access for traf-fic coming from outside the palace as the AC is.

One would hesitate to call the NEB an archivesin its own right since important records such asthose dealing with land tenure are missing, andthe sheer number of texts is smaller. The place isan anomaly, calling for explanation. Tegyey pro-posed that the building functioned to some extentindependently of the AC,116 and suggested its sup-posed religious connections might explain thephenomenon.117 Religious connections aside, theindependence of the building is questionable.Shelmerdine rightly stressed similarities with meth-ods and practice of the central administration.118

Most NEB scribes do also have documents in theAC, and at least one—Hand 21—is an importantcentral administrator. Tegyey cited four NEB scribeswithout documents in the main palace,119 but theexistence of one of these, H33, is now in question.120

112 Olivier (1984, 16) suggests it resembles a specializedbureau. Shelmerdine (1999, 568, 573) too speaks of it as a“department.” See also Tegyey 1987, 362.

113 Olivier 1984, 16, n. 8; Palaima 1988, 180, n. 252.114 Palaima 1988, 187.115 The main gate onto the citadel was apparently near the

Southwestern Area, leading into court 58 (AR 1997–1998,

56, fig. 79; Davis and Bennet 1999, 110; Nelson and Cooper1998, 399–400).

116 Tegyey 1984, 75–6.117 Tegyey 1984, 77–9.118 Shelmerdine 1987b, 336; see also 1999, 567–8.119 Tegyey 1984, 68.120 See supra n. 110.

Fig. 12. Linear B documents in the NEB. (PoN 1, key plan,courtesy of the Department of Classics, University ofCincinnati; with my additions based on PoN 4 and Palaima1988)

Fig. 13. Tablets in the southwest corner of room 99. (AfterPalaima 1988, 155, fig. 20 [after M. Rawson], courtesy of T.Palaima; with additions based on PoN 4, Palaima 1988, andPini 1997)


That the remaining scribes have no documents inthe AC could be a matter of chance. Furthermore,there are instances of the same personnel beingdealt with in both the NEB and the AC, and in atleast one case we can surmise that a set of tablets(the Sa series) was written in the NEB then movedto the AC, probably for processing. These pointssuggest that the administrative activities of the NEBand the AC were very closely associated.

So the building was not independent, yet it is anom-alous. One explanation for the anomaly is the work-shop hypothesis for this assemblage. It is not clearwhat the administrative assemblage of a workshopshould look like, since no definitive examples exist.But the assemblage does resemble a clearinghouse,

an example of which is found in the West HouseGroup at Mycenae, as elucidated by Shelmerdine.121

Like the West Houses, there are extensive storagefacilities coupled with “unusual” amounts of admin-istrative activity. The many scribes and the variety ofcommodities dealt with would be expected for animportant center through which goods and informa-tion were processed. The semi-archival nature of theNEB documents would be explained if the NEB wereclosely allied to the AC as a subsidiary locus of recordkeeping and a primary place for receipt of goods.

The distribution of sealings supports this view ofthe building’s function (fig. 14).122 The NEB hadmore sealings than any other room or related groupof rooms at Pylos. This is significant. Mycenaean

Fig. 14. Distribution of sealings at Pylos. (PoN 1, key plan, courtesy of the Department of Classics, University of Cincinnati; withmy additions based on Palaima 1988 and Pini 1997)

121 Shelmerdine 1997b.122 For studies of the Pylos sealings see, e.g., Aravantinos

1984; Palaima 1987, 1996a, 1996b, 2000a, 2000b, forthcom-ing; Palmer 1994; Pini 1997; Olivier 1997; Flouda 2000. It wasmy original intention to include a full account of the findspotsof uninscribed sealings in the NEB, as done for documents in

table 4 and figs. 12 and 13. This was, however, impossible onthe basis of the published material (see supra n. 34), and itwould be undesirable to publish uncertainties. I agree that muchmore can be done with the sealings than what is attemptedhere.


sealings had to do with movements of goods andinformation, representing an initial stage of thedata recording process.123 While bulky, fragile tab-lets would not have been easily transportable, thesmall, compact sealings were well suited for such apurpose. It is now understood that the primary func-tion of sealings was to convey information from out-lying areas into the administrative centers of thepolities—that is, the palaces.124 The large numberof sealings in the NEB suggests that this was one ofthe principal places to which goods were broughtwhen they first came onto the citadel. At the sametime, the distribution of sealings throughout thepalace poses problems for the workshop hypothe-sis. The NEB sealings often are thought to pertainto goods coming in for use in the building itself,but there is a paucity of evidence for palatial re-ceipts. The NEB is not one of many places aroundthe palace where sealings were found. Apart fromthe AC and a singleton from room 24, sealings ap-pear in only three places—the Southwestern Area,the NEB, and the Wine Magazine.125 These are allon the periphery of the main building. It may berelevant that Mycenaean sealings are often foundin gates and doorways, that is, entry areas.126 Per-haps the three places functioned as “entries areas”for the palace complex and were major areas forreceipt of goods for the palace as a whole. It may bethat goods were not normally brought directly intothe main palace block, but were received in build-ings on the edges of the complex.127

the linear b documents from the neb

Some 79 Linear B documents certainly or prob-ably originated from the NEB. These are listed in

table 4, arranged by scribal hand, and giving oth-er tablets by the same hands found elsewhere inthe palace. The assemblage is taken as a whole andall documents from the NEB are discussed here.The analysis is focused according to subject mat-ter: men, foodstuffs, *189, livestock, leather goods,weapons and chariots, miscellaneous, and obscure.

New readings and joins since the publication ofPylos Tablets Transcribed,128 the standard edition of thePylos documents, make it desirable to give the fulltexts here. Readings followed are those given in aversion in progress of volume 4 of PoN.129 To facili-tate comparison with the older edition, documentsthat have been particularly affected are noted witha character () and major changes are tracked intable 5.130 Some transcriptions are arranged sche-matically to aid comprehension, but nothing is al-tered or omitted. Epigraphic comments are includ-ed where relevant to interpretation.

Documents Dealing with MenThe Ac tablets form a coherent set; they were

written by a single scribe and filed together (seedata set 1 for a schematic arrangement of the texts).

The force of the texts is that the toponyms listedmust supply a certain number of men, and some arealready supplied (or accounted for), while othersare “owing.”131

The 138 men supplied or expected in the Actablets cannot all have worked in the NEB at thesame time. Table 6 gives the available space in thebuilding taking the average of the inside walllengths published in PoN 1.

The proposed workrooms, rooms 97 and 100,measure 87.05 m2 combined.132 If 5 m2 is a reason-

123 Palaima 1987, 257–61 esp. 259; 2000a, 2000b; Flouda 2000,214, 222–3, 235–8.

124 Palaima 1987, 259; Piteros et al. 1990, 183; Killen 1994,73; Flouda 2000, 217.

125 The distribution is also noted by Flouda 2000, 219 withtables 6 and 7 (note that the tables include, with reason, twonon-sphragistic documents from rooms 24 and 32, on whichsee Olivier 1997, 72, 80–1).

126 Most of the Mycenae Wt nodules came from the door-way of room 1, House of Sphinxes (Wace and Wace 1958, 12).At Pylos, many sealings came from the exterior doorway of theWine Magazine (PoN 1, 343). Many of those in the NEB werealso found in doorways. The Thebes Wu sealings were foundnear the supposed location of a city gate (Piteros et al. 1990,104–5).

127 It may be that the Wine Magazine and the NEB hadcomplementary functions. There is but one large storage jarin the NEB (in Hall 95), but there are many pithoi in the WineMagazine. It may be that items to be stored in pithoi would goto the Wine Magazine, with other items delivered to the NEBor, in the case of textiles, to the Southwestern Area (see Shelm-erdine 1998–1999).

128 Bennett and Olivier 1973.129 Bennett et al. forthcoming (PoN 4). I am grateful to

the editors for permission to cite the new transcriptions (inprogress) here. Citations for sealings differ from those adopt-ed by PoN 4 in that I omit arrows showing the direction ofwriting and add supra sigillum with the probable identifica-tion of the seal.

130 The majority of new joins are published in articles byMelena in Minos from 1992 to the present; see also Bennett1992. The table includes new documents thought to be fromthe NEB and documents published in Bennett and Olivier(1973, 1976) now joined to others.

131 Some forms are ethnic adjectives (e.g., pe-ti-ni-jo for pe-to-no and te-mi-ti-jo for ti-mi-to-a-ke-e), but not all—for instance,the ethnic of me-ta-pa would be me-ta-pi-jo (attested in An654.3).

132 The measurement for room 100 is a minimum: the endof the building is lost, so the true dimensions of the room can-not now be determined (see PoN 1, 299, 323). Yet the room isunlikely to have been so large as to affect substantially our ar-gument here.


Table 4. Documents of the NEB

RoomComponents (all 1957/

unless otherwise specified) Scribe CMS 1Series andNumber

Other Documents ofSame Hand or Stylus

9898

989999999999

999999999299999991x.

999999929991

999999999999999998

99

99 and 4799

99999999999999999999999999999999999999SE of rm. 8

s7s8

s5s24s28s29s32s34

373527 28 95 fr.26.b.ca 43.a.b frr. 1962/f10144 668338 frr.1952S9/1b

1992/f

414 26.aa 30.f 98 frr.4210085 fr.1956/2

67 68 fr.69 72 frr.70 75 frr.71 78 8073 frr.74 777679s6

25 45 47 49 91 frr.

33 1956/12 6

37 18 frr.8 21.ac

9 23 3910 1712 3413 1915 16 2046 56 8451 5452 5355 63 6457 58 596290 92 93d

51114651962/f

CiCi

S1331-CiS1331-CiS1331-CiS1331-CiS1331-CiS1331-Ci

CiiCiiCiiCiiCiiCiiCiiCiiCiiCii

CiiiCiiiCiiiCiiiCiiiCiii

S1272-CiiiS1272-CiiiS1272-CiiiS1272-CiiiS1272-CiiiS1272-CiiiS1272-CiiiS1272-CiiiS1272-Ciii

H12

S1295-H15S1295-H15

S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15S1295-H15

324318

319312329329329329

––––––––––

––––––

––––––––

312

–

––

––––––––––––––––––––

Wp1327Wr 1328

Wr 1325Wr 1330Wr 1331Wr 1332Wr 1333Wr 1334

Cn 1286Ja 1288Un 1319Un 1320Un 1322Va 1323Va 1324Vn 1314Xa 639Xn 1481

An 1282Vn 1339Vn 1341Xa 1337Xa 1342Xn 1261

Ac 1272Ac 1274Ac 1275Ac 1276Ac 1277Ac 1278Ac 1279Ac 1280Wr 1326

An 1281

Qa 1259Qa 1290

Qa 1291Qa 1292Qa 1293Qa 1294Qa 1295Qa 1296Qa 1297Qa 1298Qa 1299Qa 1301Qa 1302Qa 1303Qa 1304Qa 1306Qa 1308Qa 1309Qa 1310Qa 1311Qa 1312Qa 1441

No others of this stylus

No others of this stylus

Vn 851

H15: Un 219(Qa tablets by H33 arebelow)


Table 4. Documents of the NEB (continued)

RoomComponents (all 1957/

unless otherwise specified) Scribe CMS 1Series andNumber

Other Documents ofSame Hand or Stylus

47

949992

98

9999

999999

999999

99

979899?99?Flowerbed97x.9999

1956/3

328699

81

9440

21.fc

3129 87 88 frr.

1 22 24 fr.48 8960

82

102as101968/f1968/f1990/sg102.b1995/2frr.ffrr.

S4-H21

S4-H21S4-H21S4-H21

H26?

H31H31

H32H32H32

S1289-H33S1289-H33S1289-H33

H34

–––––––––

–

–––

–

––

–––

–––

–

–317329329

–––––

Cc 1258

Cc 1283Cc 1284Cc 1285

Sa 1313

Cn 1287Ub 1315

Ub 1316Ub 1317Ub 1318

Qa 1289Qa 1300Qa 1305

Un 1321

Mb 1336Wr 1329Wr 1458Wr 1459Wr 1480Xa 1343Un 1482Xn 1522Xn 1577

S4: Cn 4, 40, 45, 254, 272,595, 599, 600, 655, 938,962; Cc 660, 665

S64: Aq 64, 218S186: all Ab; Fg 368S658: Jn 658, 706

H26: all other Sa; Wa1148, 1271(?)

No others

No others(All formerly S1318-H32)

No others

Wo 1199?e

Notes: Several components could not be found in Palaima’s illustrations, used as the basis for figs. 12 and 13: s32 (Wr 1333) [Palaima(1988, 159) notes that only four of the five inscribed sealings from room 99 could be placed in context]; 4 (Vn 1339); 25 (An 1281);84 (Qa 1299) [the other two components were in and near Area B, so this is the main provenance for Qa 1299]. Two componentsnoted by Palaima (1988, 155, fig. 20) could not be found in the list of tablet components: 50 (Area B) and 36 (immediately below B).

a Un 1320 and Vn 1339 have elements given the same component number (Un 1320: 26.b and 26.c; Vn 1339: 26.a); see Melena1996–1997a, 166.

b Corrected to S9 in PoN 4; Palaima (1988) and Bennett and Olivier (1976) have S3.c Qa 1293 and Ub 1316 have elements given the same component number (Qa 1293: 21.a; Ub 1316: 21.f). Qa 1293 joins with a

fragment in Area A; Ub 1316 presumably does not.d Corrected to 93 (Palaima 1988, 213; see also PoN 4, citing MR, MNE p. 100) from 98 (Bennett and Olivier 1976, 61). Component

98 belongs to Vn 1456, transcribed as a fragment from the same tablet as Vn 1339 (Bennett and Olivier 1973, 256; see also Melena1994–1995b, 287; 1996–1997a, 166).

e Olivier (1997, 81) considers the grounds to be insufficient to ascribe Un 1321 and Wo 1199 to a single Hand.f Found with components 3–20 in Area A; Melena 1996–1997b, 177–8.

Ac 1272

Ac 1274

Ac 1275

Ac 1276

Ac 1277

Ac 1278Ac 1279

Ac 1280Total

ka-ra-do-ro

pe-ti-ni-jopi-*82 [[ ]]a-ke-re-wate-mi-ti-jo

me-ta-pa

v. i.r. [ ]2.vir ]6vir 25vir 20vir 10vir 17virvir 22

102

o-pe-ro vir 8o-pe-ro vir 13o-pe-ro vir 1

o-pe-ro 6o-pe-ro vir [

]o-pe-ro v. i.r. 1o-pe-ro vir 7

36

25 over [[49]][[o-pe-ro]]

10 over [[6]]

The Ac Series (S1272-Ciii), room 99

DOCUMENT TOWNMEN

SUPPLIED MEN OWINGEPIGRAPHIC

NOTES TOTAL [

+

101926201617

129

138

[[49]]

+

++

[

Data Set 1


able space for each man to work in,133 only some 17men—eight in room 97 and nine (minimum) inroom 100—could work in the building. Addingroom 99 (though it is not proposed as a workroom)would allow but 16 more, which must includescribes.134 Seventeen men (or 33, with room 99) donot account for the 138 men recorded on the Actablets. What were the other 121 (or 105) men do-ing? Even if working in shifts, at least eight shiftswould be needed to accommodate all the Ac per-sonnel. Is it reasonable to suppose that each man(some of whom came from at least halfway acrossthe polity) worked for less than one day a week?Besides, the tablets in no way suggest a shift system.If men “owing” were not required to report yet, wemight expect to see a constant proportion of men“owing” from each town. It seems rather that all themen were wanted immediately, but had not yet beensupplied by the contributing areas.135

If the men recorded on the Ac tablets cannot allhave been working in the NEB, then some must havebeen assigned to work elsewhere. The implicationis that Ac documents involve wider personnel move-ments. In fact, there is nothing in the documentsthat need suggest that any of the men were actuallyworking in the building. The documents of the ACrecord personnel who certainly were not working inthe AC. The findspots of Linear B tablets are notnecessarily evidence that the matters they recordwere located in that area. The only person surelyshown by the Ac tablets to have been working in theNEB is the scribe who placed them there.136

Second, the Ac tablets are standard taxation doc-uments for Pylos (the tax here being paid in men,probably through some sort of corvée labor obliga-tion). The format and vocabulary of the texts (e.g.,

the use of o-pe-ro) are standard for tax records. More-over, the scribe of the Ac tablets used a standardassessment method for calculating the numbers ofmen required from each place. The Ac tablet top-onyms are capitals of some of the 16 districts intowhich the polity was divided for administrative pur-poses. In general, figures on taxation records forthe district capitals follow a standard ratio such thatthe districts paid amounts in fixed proportions.137

The numbers on the Ac tablets conform to the ra-tio.138 Further, the Ac tablets involved at least six,and maybe eight, of the 16 districts, so their levy ofmanpower affected over a quarter, and maybe near-ly half, of the entire polity. Thus, the scribe of theAc series was versed in standard palatial practices,had access to palace accounting systems, gatheredlong-distance information pertaining to major pa-latial concerns affecting large areas of the polity,and, we can infer from the large numbers, recruit-ed men not working in the NEB. Rather than requi-sitions for a single workshop, this information sug-gests major tax payments and polity-wide person-nel redistribution.

Further involvement of the NEB in personnel re-distribution is seen in An 1282 (data set 2). An1282 has men involved in chariotry139 and perhapsweaponry (see below). The datives indicate dis-bursements, not requisitions, of personnel. Whilewe saw men “coming in” in the Ac tablets, An 1282shows men “going out,” that is, being assigned towork groups.140 Together these form a classic exam-ple of resource redistribution, the resources herebeing human, even if it is not necessarily the samemen who are involved in each case.141

An 1282 records 90 men—again too many all tohave been working in the NEB. But here the problem

133 As proposed by Olivier (1997, 79), who makes a similarpoint regarding An 1282 (now see also Flouda 2000, 221).Other writers noting the high numbers do not draw the sameconclusions, e.g., Tegyey 1984, 69.

134 Allowing half a meter along each wall for the shelves.135 One of the anonymous reviewers rightly brings to my

attention that the men might have worked outside the build-ing, as is common in modern Greece, but it is difficult to ac-cept this scenario. If specifically connected to the NEB, theywould have had to have been located in court 58—right in frontof the main gates of the palace. Court 58 is not a very largearea (part of it is lost down the slope, but even doubled wouldnot constitute a particularly wide space) and 100 or so menwould have been very much in the way.

136 Jasink (1984, 15) also notes that some of the Ac menwere presumably working outside the NEB, but does not drawout the further implication that none necessarily work there.

137 Docs2, 289–95, 464–6; Lejeune 1958, 65–91; Wyatt 1962,21–4; Palmer 1963, 300–5; Shelmerdine 1973, 275; 1989; Oliv-ier 1974; de Fidio 1982.

138 First observed by Lang (1958, 190), followed by Shelm-erdine (1987b, 339–40). Shelmerdine later (1989, 147 n.49)

abandons the idea on account of the new reading for Ac 1275(Bennett 1992, 126) but, as J. Killen points out to me, the newfigures are actually better. I am grateful for his permission tomention this here. In other taxation documents pe-to-no gen-erally pays the same amount as me-ta-pa and pi-*82 combined(e.g., in Cn 608 pe-to-no gives six pigs, while the others givethree each). Bennett and Olivier (1973) had “VIR 69” for themen of pe-to-no on Ac 1275, but it is now recognized that thecorrect figure is 25 over an erasure of 49. (Lang’s original read-ing was “49 o-pe-ro MAN 1”; 1958, 182.) It is unclear why thetax was reduced, but it is apparent that the scribe at first thoughtthat 49 was the amount pe-to-no should pay, which is exactlythe combined amount paid by pi-*82 (20 men) and me-ta-pa(29 men) on Ac 1276 and Ac 1280. Whatever the reasons forthe change, the Ac numbers were conceived in the context ofthe standard taxation system.

139 Docs2, 522.140 I mean “coming in” and “going out” in an administrative,

not a directional, sense—it is not necessary that the men wereever physically located at the palace.

141 Cf. Shelmerdine 1987b, 340–1.142 Killen 1999b, 349–50.


is exacerbated because we know what the men weredoing—fewer than eight men could work in room97 if space was provided for a chariot too. Threemen plus one chariot might have fit, leaving theother 15 of the 18 men “for chariots” workingelsewhere. The size of the work force involved inchariotry attested in An 1282 indicates that the NEBcannot have been the main chariot workshop. But

why then suppose that chariot production tookplace here at all? It is evident that NEB administratorswere involved in assignment of personnel for chariotmanufacture, but that does not verify that the NEBwas an actual locus of production.

An 1281 (data set 3) also concerns personnel. Heremen (in nominative) are assigned to persons (indative) plus two shrines of Potnia. The suggestion

a-qi-ja-i

a-mo-siki-u-ro-i

po-qe-wi-ja-ido-ka-ma-i

An 1282 (Ciii), room 99.1 a-qi-ja-i vir 18 a-mo-si vir 18.2 ki-u-ro-i vir 13 po-qe-wi-ja-i vir 5.3 do-ka-ma-i vir 36.4 vacat

18

1813

536

[men] for [work on] chariots

[men] for wheels[men] for wickerwork? or flints?

[men] for halters[men] for shafts?

probable error for i-qi-ja-i dat. pl. /hiqquiahi/“for chariots”

dat. pl. /harmosi/ “for wheels”dat. pl. perhaps /skiwroihi/ “for hard objects”

or “for wickerwork”? 142

dat. pl. /phorguewiahi/ “for halters”dat. pl. /dork(h)mahi/? “handles/shafts?”

SIGN GROUP NO. INTERPRETATION NOTES

Data Set 2

An 1281 (H12), room 99.1 po-]ti-ni-ja , i-qe-ja.2 ]-mo , o-pi-e-de-i.3 a-ka , re-u-si-wo-qe vir 2.4 au-ke-i-ja-te-we [[ ]].5 o-na-se-u , ta-ni-ko-qe vir 2.6 me-ta-ka-wa , p. o. -so-ro vir 1.7 mi-jo-qa[ ]e-we-za-no vir 1.8 a-p. i. -e-r. a. [ ]to-ze-u vir 1.9 ]-a-ke-s. i. , po-ti-ni-ja , re-si-wo vir 1.10 au-ke-i-j.a. -t.e. -w. e. [ ]ro vir 1.11 mi-jo-qa , ma-ra-si-jo[ ] vir 1.12 me-ta-ka-wa , ti-ta-ra-[ ] vir 1.13 a-pi-e-ra , r. u. -k.o. -ro vir 1.14 vacat.15 vacat

RECIPIENTS(IN DATIVE)

MEN GIVEN(IN NOMINATIVE) VIRINTERPRETATION

/Potniai hiqqueiai/ “to the Mistress of Horses”/opi hede(h)i/ “at [her] shrine”

To MNTo WNTo WNTo WNAt [place-name]: /Potniai/ “to Potnia”To MNTo WNTo WNTo WN

po-]ti-ni-ja, i-qe-ja ]-mo , o-pi-e-de-i

au-ke-i-ja-te-weme-ta-ka-wami-jo-qa[a-p. i. -e-r. a.]-a-ke-s. i. , po-ti-ni-jaau-ke-i-j.a. -t.e. -w. e.mi-jo-qame-ta-ka-waa-pi-e-ra

/-qe/ “and”a-ka , re-u-si-wo-qe

o-na-se-u , ta-ni-ko-qep. o. -so-ro]e-we-za-noto-ze-ure-si-wo[ ]roma-ra-si-jo[ti-ta-ra-[r. u. -k. o. -ro

2211111111

Data Set 3


Ac 1272

Ac 1273

Ac 1274

Ac 1275

Ac 1276

Ac 1277

Ac 1279

An 1281

Qa 1259

Qa 1289

Qa 1290

Qa 1292

Qa 1294

Qa 1303

Qa 1307

Ub 1318

Un 1320

Un 1314

Un 1321

Un 1322

Un 1482

Vn 1339

Vn 1314

Vn 1341

Wp 1327

Wr 1326

Wr 1327

Wr 1328

Wr 1333

+ fr. [+] Ac 1273

See Ac 1272

+ frr. (3)

–+ frr. (3)

–

+ frr. (4)

–

+ frr. (10)+ fr.

+ Xa 1335

+ fr.

–

+ frr. (4)

+ fr.

[+] Qa 1307

See Qa 1303

+ frr. (3)+ frr. (6)–

+ Xn 1447 + Xn 1448 +*1455 + frr. (13)+ frr. (4)

See Vn 1314

–

–+ fr.

–

–[+] 1456 + frr.

+ Xn 1340 + Xn 1449 + fr.

ex-Un+ frr.

ex-Xn––

ex-Wr

–

See Wp 1327

–

–

Melena 2000–2001, 378

–

Melena 1992–1993, 322PoN 4

Bennett 1992, 126Melena 1992–1993, 322

Bennett 1992, 126

Melena 1992–1993, 322

PoN 4

Melena 1992–1993, 322Melena 2000–2001, 377

Melena 2000–2001, 377

Melena 1992–1993, 81

Bennett 1992, 126

Melena 1992–1993, 81PoN 4

Melena 1996–1997, 165

Melena 2000–2001, 377

–

Melena 1992–1993, 81Melena 1992–1993, 322PoN 4

–Melena 1992–1993, 81–2Melena 1992–1993, 323

–

Bennett 1992, 120

Bennett 1992, 121Melena 1992–1993, 323

AR 1995–1996, 19; Melena 2000–2001,380–4

Bennett 1992, 121Melena 1994–1995, 287

Melena 1996–1997, 165–7

Bennett 1992, 104, 120Melena 1992–1993, 81

Bennett 1992, 126Killen 1999b, 347Melena 1996–1997, 168–9

PoN 4

Bennett 1992, 126

–

Bennett 1992, 126

PoN 4

New text (see PTT 1, 32)

Text unchangedNew reading

New readingText unchanged

New reading

Text unchanged

New reading

Text unchangedText unchanged

New text

Text unchanged

New reading

Text unchangedNew reading

Text completed

New text

Text unchangedText unchangedStylus suppressed (also

for 1316–1317)

New textText unchanged

New reading

New readingNew text (.1–2); cf.

Killen, JHS 1976

New readingText unchanged; cf. PTT

1, 256New text

New readingText unchanged

New readingNew readingNew reading

New classification

New reading

New reading

New reading

Table 5. Joins in NEB Documents since PTT (Bennett and Olivier 1973, 1976)

Document Joins Source Effect on Document


that the shrine of the “Lady of Horses” was room 93143

depends on seeing the room as a shrine. But at leastone of the shrines must have been elsewhere,144 againshowing personnel movements outside the NEB.

Some recipients from An 1281 are found in Fn50, from the AC (data set 4).145 Fn 50 deals withdisbursements of grain in connection with a reli-gious festival, as recently demonstrated by Killen.146

Three persons from An 1281 appear in Fn 50.11–13 as possessors of slaves (do-e-ro-i) receiving rationsfrom the palace. Two of the possessors, mi-jo-qa anda-pi-e-ra, are women and, as Olivier has pointed out,the only other women with slaves in the Linear Barchives are priestesses. It thus seems likely, espe-cially given the religious context of Fn 50 and thementions of Potnia on An 1281, that mi-jo-qa and a-pi-e-ra are priestesses. If so, then au-ke-i-ja-te-u may be apriest.147 In any case, Fn 50 shows persons presenton NEB documents involved in a religious festivalthat must have taken place outside the NEB and iswithout obvious link to the concerns of a workshop.

It is significant that the management concerns ofAn 1281 and Fn 50 are associated. In one case per-

sonnel are assigned to individuals, in the other per-sonnel are allocated rations. The context is person-nel management, whether or not it is exactly thesame persons who are being disbursed or main-tained in either case. Along these lines, there iscircumstantial evidence connecting the NEB withdisbursements of bedding. H12, the scribe of An1281, wrote just one other tablet, Vn 851, from theAC. This deals with issues of de-mi-ni-ja “beds or bed-ding” to various persons. A bed is mentioned alsoon a sealing from the NEB, Wr 1326 (data set 5).148

Table 5. Joins in NEB Documents since PTT (Bennett and Olivier 1973, 1976) (continued)

Document Joins Source Effect on Document

Wr 1458

Wr 1459

Wr 1480

Xa 1335

Xa 1342

Xa 1343

Xn 1340

Xn 1341

Xn 1342

Xn 1343

Xn 1449

Xn 1481

Xn 1482

Xn 1522

Xn 1577

–

–

–

See Qa 1259

+ fr. (ex-Xn)

ex-Xn

See Vn 1339

See Vn 1341

See Xa 1342

See Xa 1343

See Vn 1339

–

See Un 1482

–

–

PoN 4

PoN 4

Shelmerdine and Bennet 1995, 125–32

–

Melena 1992–1993, 82

PoN 4

–

–

–

–

–

Shelmerdine and Bennet 1995, 133–6

Melena 1996–1997, 177–8

PoN 4

New reading; cf. Palaima2000a, 265

New reading

New document

New text

New classification

New document

Newly published nonjoin-ing fragment

Newly published nonjoin-ing fragment

Interior (in m)

Table 6. Interior Wall-Spans of NEB Rooms

Room Square Meters

939596979899100

Total area

10.2920.16

9.0641.9144.50

101.4344.80

3.437.203.386.7056.256.456.40

3.002.802.686.257.12

15.737.00

×××××××

272.15

143 PoN 1, 305.144 Chadwick restores po-ti-]a-ke-si (Docs2, 484, Additional

Commentary), and PoN 4 now reads in the apparatus for line 9:“possibly po-]t.i.-a-ke-s.i..” Given the uncertain reading, however,the possibility that this is an otherwise unknown toponymshould be kept in mind.

145 Lang 1958, 190.146 Killen 2000, 2001.147 Olivier 1960, 134–6.148 The only other document on which the word appears at

Pylos is a new tablet, Xn 1482; see appendix.


Wr 1326 is the only other document from any-where in the palace written by the same scribe whowrote the Ac series, suggesting a connection be-tween the administrative concerns of this group oftexts. Two scribes, one of whom writes just two sur-viving tablets—H12, with An 1281 and Vn 851—and the other only a set of tablets and a sealing—S1272-Ciii, with the Ac set and Wr 1326—each dealwith the same two subjects (personnel and bedding)on their extant documents. Further, these subjectsare plausibly related. There is a connection betweenrequisitioning (the Ac tablets) or assigning (An1281) personnel and disbursing supplies to them.149

Mycenaean scribes were often specialized.150

Could it be that H12 and S1272-Ciii specializedin personnel management—that is, beyond per-sonnel connected to specific industries—and thattheir tablets relate to aspects of this specialization?The documents recall some of those found in theWest House group at Mycenae. MY V 659 dealswith bedding and Fo 101 with rations issued tosome of the same named individuals. These per-sons were not working in the buildings. Rather, asShelmerdine has elucidated, the buildings be-

longed to a clearinghouse complex, part of whosefunction was the disbursement of bedding andrations to personnel working elsewhere.151 I sug-gest that this was an important part of the functionof the NEB too. The connections of the personneldocuments with both rations and bedding strong-ly suggest a parallel situation. Further evidencelinking the NEB to disbursements of rations willbe seen in Un 1322 below.

Whether or not a connection between the vari-ous documents of H12 and S1272 is admitted, it isclear that personnel management was a significantfeature of administrative activities in the NEB, andfurther that not all of the persons managed couldactually have been working in the building. NEBscribes were involved in polity-wide personnel re-distribution, operating in tandem with the AC.

149 Tegyey (1984, 70) and Palaima (1988, 75) also link An1281, Vn 851, and Wr 1326, but not the Ac tablets. Palaima(1988, 131) expresses the view that “the text of Wr 1326 hasno obvious connection with the Ac texts.” Yet they are con-nected if the Ac tablets have to do with requisitioning or mon-itoring personnel and the Wr sealing has to do with disbursingbedding for personnel.

150 See, e.g., Olivier 1967, 131–3; Killen 1979, 167; Shelm-erdine 1988, 343–84. There were fewer specialized scribes atPylos than at Knossos (Palaima 1984, 39; Shelmerdine 1988,361; 1999, 565).

151 Shelmerdine 1997b, 390–4; 1999, 572–3. See also Killen1981.

Fn 50 (S324-Ciii), AC.1 a-ki-to-jo , qa-si-re-wi-ja hord[ qs.2 ke-ko-jo , qa-si-re-wi-ja hord [ qs.3 a-ta-no-ro , qa-si-re-wi-ja hord t [ qs.4 me-za-ne hord v 2 a3-ki-a2-ri-jo v 2[.5 me-ri-du-te hord v 3 mi-ka-ta hord v 3.6 di-pte-ra-po-ro hord v 2 e-to-wo-ko v 2.7 a-to-po-qo hord v 2 po-ro-du-ma-te hord v 2.8 o-pi-te-u-ke-e-we hord v 2 i-za-a-to-mo-i hord v 3.9 ze-u-ke-u-si hord v 4.10 v.[ ]vacat.11 au[-ke-i-]ja-te-wo , do-e-ro-i hord t 1.12 mi-jo[-qa ] do-e-ro-i hord v 3.13 a-pi-e. -r. a. [ ]do-e-ro-i hord v 3.14 ]-w. o. [ ]n. e. [ do-e-ro-]i hord t 3.15 vacat.16 vacat.17 vacat.18 vacat.19 vacat

Data Set 4

Wr 1326 (S1272-Ciii), room 98.α sigillum (CMS 1, 312). ]jo.γ de-mi-ni-jo

Data Set 5


Documents Dealing with FoodstuffsUn 1322 (data set 6) records a net-maker and weav-

er receiving wheat and figs, the standard foodstuffsfor Mycenaean rations.152 An unusual feature for arations record is the word o-no, which may be connect-ed with ννηµι “I benefit,” with the sense of “consid-eration” or “payment.”153 The document may deal with(perhaps one-off) “payments” to craftsmen, presum-ably for their work. Possibly, the men were not ordi-nary palace dependents,154 so that their receiving food-stuffs required the explanation provided by o-no.

As with the vir documents, the men of Un 1322probably worked outside the NEB, since there is noevidence for weaving in the building (only two loomweights were found, both in the courtyard), and net-making is normally done closer to the sea (thoughthis point may not be pressed: nets have multipleuses, e.g., in hunting). Note the wide variety of activ-ities attested for persons recorded in the building:weavers, net makers, chariot makers, wheelwrights,halter makers, and weapons assemblers, and others.The variety of crafts represented makes better senseif the building functioned as a clearinghouse deal-ing with diverse personnel working in different lo-cations, than as the retinue of a single workshop.

The next document, Un 1321 (data set 7), is poor-ly understood. Most sign-groups here defy interpre-tation.155 to-sa-ka-pa-ra may be /tossai skaphalai/, “somany σκφαλαι,” glossed by Hesychius as a sort ofliquid container. Despite uncertainties, parallelswith other tablets allow a guess at the probable con-text. Wine (vin, line 2) is a relatively rare commod-ity. Where found, it is generally connected withceremonial banqueting, land tenure, o-no, or per-fumery (e.g., Un 267156).

The context of Un 1321 is probably not industri-al because vin appears together with wheat (gra,line 3), suggesting consumption rather than man-ufacture. Its connection with land tenure is unlike-ly since no words from the specialized land tenurevocabulary are present and o-no does not appear inthe surviving text. While remembering that suchwords might have appeared in the numerous lacu-nae, it is possible that the tablet concerns ceremo-nial banqueting. Whatever the case, since Un 1321is probably unrelated to industry, it is not clear whyit should appear in a workshop. On the other hand,it would fit well into the context of a clearinghouse,and as seen above, the building was linked to dis-bursements of grain. There is no reason that wineshould not be added to the various commoditiesdealt with by the establishment.

152 Chadwick 1964, 19–20, also Lang 1959, 137. See Chad-wick 1988 for discussion of Mycenaean rations. R. Palmer’ssuggestion (1989, 1992) that gra represents barley rather thanwheat is not universally accepted (see, e.g., Halstead 1995)and I follow the traditional identification here. The argumentwould be unaffected in any case because, whatever gra repre-sents, it was the standard substance issued for rations.

153 Chadwick 1964, 21, 23. It cannot be Classical νς (saleprice) since this originally had a digamma. See also Docs2, 506;Killen 1995, 218, 223–4; Aura Jorro 1993, 27–8.

154 Duhoux 1976, 130–4, esp. 133.155 See Palmer 1994, 115–6, for a recent discussion with bib-

liography.156 Shelmerdine 1985, 17–9.

Un 1322 (Cii), court 92NOTESWHEAT FIGS

.1 ]

.2 ]n. o. -[ ]o. -no[ ]

.3 de-ku-tu-wo-k.o. [ ]o-no

.4 i.-t.e. -w. e. , o-n. o. [ ]

.5 we-a2-no[ri-]-no , re-po-to *1.4. 6.

.6 we-[ ]no , [ ] *1.4. 6.

.7 vest.[

gra[ qsgra 6.gra 2.gra 12gra 5g. r. a. 15.

N. I. [qsNI 2 Prob. dat. sg. /dektu-worg4i/ “to the net-maker”

Prob. dat. sg. /hist2wei/ “to the weaver”Nom. sg. /wehanos/ “robe”; nom. sg.

/linon lepton/ “fine linen”

Data Set 6

Un 1321 (H34), room 99.1 ]-ta-ri-ja , a2-to , o-ra-qe-t.e. [.2 ]q.e. -we , to-sa-ka-pa-ra vin [.3 ]t. a. -qe , a3-te , to-o , gra [.4 ] , o-pa-ro-ze , ti-se , pa-ro[

Data Set 7

In Un 1319 (data set 8), the ideograms are mostlyunidentified. Line 1 records wheat followed by PE,which may represent pe-mo, “seed.” A2 is obscure; itseems to be qualified by gra (line 3), so may also bea type of wheat. KU is a spice at Mycenae, but neednot represent the same commodity here (thoughthe context would be acceptable, since other food-stuffs appear). Whatever the case, the tablet contrib-utes little to the workshop interpretation, but againadds to the diversity of goods dealt with by the NEB.


Documents Dealing with *189The Qa series forms a coherent set, dealing with

an unidentified commodity, *189. The documentshere are arranged in groups according to types ofpersons appearing on them (data set 9).

It is not clear whether the Qa tablets record de-liveries or disbursements. L.R. Palmer argued fordisbursements, without supporting discussion.157

Shelmerdine argued for deliveries on the basis thatsome of the sealings found in the NEB are deliver-ies and that “it is more likely that a workshop isreceiving raw materials . . . than giving them out.”158

Without reference to the workshop issue, this ar-gument is not convincing because we do not knowthat *189 is a raw material,159 and evidence for de-liveries would not preclude the possibility of otherdocuments dealing with disbursements. In fact,some NEB documents, such as Un 1322 and Ub1318, do record disbursements.

An examination of the persons involved may helpclarify the possibilities. The first group comprisesofficials, most of whom are known from other docu-ments. The man called e-ke-ri-ja-wo (Qa 1292) is in-volved in land tenure (Er 880, Un 718) and mili-tary contributions (An 610, An 724).160 He may bethe king of Pylos himself,161 but is in any case animportant official. a-pi-a2-ro (Qa 1297) is an impor-tant regional official (On 300) also involved in landtenure (Ea 109+). ne-qe-u e-da-e-u (Qa 1298) is a holderof ka-ma land at pa-ki-ja-na (Eb 613, Eb 415). Twomen are described as me-nu-a2, an official title thatappears in land tenure (Aq 218) and military con-texts (An 724). The second group includes priests,priestesses, and men with possible or probable re-ligious designations (perhaps “ritual purifier,prophet,” and probably “Potnian,” indicating somespecial relationship with Potnia). The third groupincludes persons designated by their names, noneof which occur elsewhere in the Pylos documents.

Two of these men are connected with major top-onyms (a-pu2-we and ka-ra-do-ro), suggesting that theywere not normally based at the palace, again indi-cating wider concerns for the NEB.

Ignoring the damaged final group, which pro-vides scant information, there are 17 Qa tablets withmore or less complete data, and for 12 of these (allexcept the five of group three) we can say some-thing about the persons involved. In every casewhere something is known, the person is either animportant official or religious dignitary.162 Any ex-planation of the Qa tablets must account for thefact that these were not ordinary, mundane transac-tions, but were restricted to an elite group. Let usconsider the possibilities with this in mind.

If these are records of contributions or deliver-ies to the palace, they are not ordinary taxes sincethe portion of the society that normally pays taxesis excluded. These records may be instances ofhonorific or privileged gifts similar to Un 138,where an official donates foodstuffs for a banquet.Another parallel might be Jo 438, where variousofficials (again, not ordinary taxpayers) contrib-ute amounts of gold. (These parallels may suggestthat *189, whether a raw material or not, was a valu-able commodity.)

If the tablets record disbursements, they mightrepresent instances of the palace supporting val-ued servants and members of the aristocracythrough devices such as land tenure. In the NearEast, persons who were so supported often receivedother goods, such as cloth and silver, in addition toland tenure grants or rations.163 It may be signifi-cant that every single identifiable individual in theQa tablets is a known land holder.164 The title me-nu-a2, priests and priestesses, and a man described aspo-ti-ni-ja-we-jo viz. (probably) “of the Goddess Pot-nia” also appear prominently in land tenure con-texts.165

157 Palmer 1963, 372.158 Shelmerdine 1987b, 335.159 The ideogram may appear on a new tablet, Xn 1482; see

appendix.160 Chadwick 1987, 78.161 Chadwick 1975, 453; 1976, 71; Lindgren 1973, 135, 150–

1; Palaima 1995a, esp. 134–5. The view is not universally ac-cepted.

162 Cf. also Chadwick 1975, 450–1 for the “aristocratic” na-ture of the group.

163 Cf. e.g., Heltzer 1976, 5.164 Note ne-qe-u e-da-e-u (certainly), e-ke-ri-ja-wo (almost cer-

tainly) and a-pi-a2-ro (probably) are the same individuals here,not different persons who happen to share the same name.

165 E.g., Eb 364, Ep 613.

Un 1319 (Cii), room 99.1 ]i-p. u. -ma , gra PE 1 [ ] A2 4.1..2 O PE 2 A2 13 KU 1 E 40 PA 20[ ] PA 6..3 e-ri-ka-we-e gra A2 1 WO 2 re-u-ko-to , g. r. a. A2 2 PA 1. E 9.4 a-ro-ka , E 1.2.

Data Set 8


]

]]

Whether the Qa tablets record deliveries or dis-bursements, nothing connects them with workshopactivities. In general, Mycenaean documents deal-ing with production relate to higher-level manage-rial concerns, such as issuing instructions as to whatgoods are to be made, disbursing materials to work-shops or individual craftsmen, receiving finishedproducts, or distributing rations to workers. TheQa tablets do not share similarities with any of thesetypes of documents. They are not rations records;nor do they involve stints or orders. As for disburs-ing raw materials: we do not know that *189 was araw material, but more important, the recipients (ifthey are recipients) are not craftsmen. There is thusno reason to connect the Qa tablets with produc-tion per se.

The type of record that the Qa tablets do resem-ble is exemplified by the Fr tablets (notably alsofound in storerooms), which record disbursements

of finished products (perfumed oil) for actual userather than further processing. If the parallel is val-id, the items given out in the Qa records will havereached their final home/use context with the spec-ified persons. Alternatively, if the documents dorecord deliveries, their parallels would be special-ized taxation tablets such as Jo 438 mentionedabove. Either way, these tablets are fundamentallyconcerned with movement of goods. Nothing sug-gests *189 was made or used in the NEB; it is suffi-cient to suppose that the commodity was stored in,received at, or distributed from the building.

Documents Dealing with LivestockSheep and goats appear on three NEB sealings

and a number of tablets. The sealings are seen indata set 10.

We will see here an instance of the workshophypothesis exerting questionable influence on

Qa 1292

Qa 1297Qa 1293Qa 1298Qa 1301

Qa 1290

Qa 1296Qa 1289

Qa 1300Qa 1303

Qa 1299Qa 1295

Qa 1259

Qa 1291Qa 1294

Qa 1304Qa 1305

Qa 1302Qa 1306Qa 1308Qa 1309Qa 1310Qa 1311Qa 1312Qa 1441

]e. -ke-ri-ja-woa-pi-a2-ro]m. e. -nu-a2

ne-qe-u , e-da-e-uki-nu-ra , me-nu-a2

“Religious”i-je-re-u , se-ri-no-wo [a-o-ri-me-ne , i-je-re-uka-wa-ra , i-je-re-ja i]-je-re-jake-i-ja , i[-je-re-ja ]ka-e-se-u , po-ti-ni-ja-wi-joqe-re-ma-o , po-qa-te-u

MN’s and TN’sde-ka-t.a. , r. i.-mae-ka-sa-te-[pu-ti-ja , a-pu2-wea-te-ra-wo , ka-ra-do-ro [wo-ro-qo-ta[

Very Damaged

a-e[]p. a. -ke-u

]o

*189*189*189*189*189[

*189*189 [*189[*189*1.8. 9.*189*189

*189*189*189*189*189

*189*189*189*189*1.8. 9.*1.8. 9.*189 ]*189

2511

22 [12

1

1

2

11212 [1 [

MN; known as an important land-holderKnown MN, a ko-re-te (?)Official titleMN and title; known as an important land-holderCf. Vn 865.7

/hiereus/ “priest” of/at TN/Ahorimenes/ MN (o.m.); /hiereus/ “priest”WN (o.m.); /hiereia/ “priestess”/hiereia/ “priestess”TN or WN; /hiereia/ “priestess”MN? (o.m.); “Potnian”MN? (o.m.); /phoiguasteus/ “ritual purifier, prophet”?

MN and TN? (o.m.)MN (o.m.); PoN 4: “e-ka-sa-te-u. probable”MN? (cf. An 340.10); major TNMN (o.m.); major TNMN? (o.m.)

DOCUMENTSOfficials

IDEOG. NO. NOTES

]

Note: WN = woman’s name; MN = man’s name; TN = toponym; o.m. (= “only mention”) indicates the sign-group is not found in anyother text at Pylos. All Qa tablets are by H15-S1295, except 1289, 1300, and 1305 (by H33).

Data Set 9


epigraphic interpretation. Given the difficulty ofexplaining live animals in the context of a work-shop, it was proposed that the ideograms repre-sent not live animals but their skins.166 Even if theNEB were a locus for leatherworking, tanningwould seem to be excluded by the building’s prox-imity to the palace and lack of adequate facilities.But if prepared pelts rather than live animals wereinvolved, the sealings could then be explained asrecords of a raw material coming into the work-shop.

It is doubtful that ovis and cap can representpelts.167 In the hundreds of examples where cer-tainty is possible, they represent live animals. Liveanimals and skins are qualitatively different, and itis unlikely that Mycenaean ideograms were subjectto such extreme variations in significance. Severalideograms representing skins show that the distinc-tion was made. *152, *153, and probably *154 aredrawings of skins. *152 is surcharged with WI, prob-ably representing wi-ri-no /wr3nos/ “oxhide,” and *153is surcharged with KO, probably ko-wo /k4wos/ “sheep-skin” (notably, a type we would be concerned withhere).

It is sometimes suggested that Wr 1332 (data set11), by the same scribe as the other sealings (S1331-Ci) and coming, like some of them, from room 99,

Wr 1325 (S1331-Ci), room 98.α capm supra sigillum (CMS 1, 319). vacat.γ o-pa

Wr 1334 (S1331-Ci), room 99.α capm supra sigillum (CMS 1, 329). vacat.γ vacat

Wr 1331 (S1331-Ci), room 99.α ovism supra sigillum (CMS 1, 329). vacat.γ o-pa

Data Set 10

166 Duhoux 1976, 129; Melena 1983, 280; Jasink 1984, 18–22; Shelmerdine 1987b, 335, 337–8. (First proposed by Mel-ena [1972, 34, 41–2, 51–2] for the Knossos Mc series, but fordifferent reasons. The idea there rests on an uncertain inter-pretation of *150 in the Mc series and an uncertain readingof *258 in C 5669 with [uncertain] interpretation of this as ananimal skin. Even if *258 is an animal skin and the ideogramis correctly read, this need not suggest that CAPf immediatelyfollowing it is a skin too.)

167 See Killen 1999a, 333–4 for an important discussion.168 Melena 1983, 279.169 Olivier (1997, 75) points out that it is unlikely to repre-

sent wi-ri-no in Un 219.10. Killen (1999a, 335–6) suggests thatWI may be a type of animal.

170 Piteros et al. 1990, esp. 157. See also Killen 1992.171 Transcriptions follow Melena and Olivier 1991, 41, 44–5.172 Abbr. for /wetalon/ “yearling.” See Docs2, 590; Killen 1987,

327–8; Piteros et al. 1990, 161–2.

Wr 1332 (S1331-Ci), room 99.α WI supra sigillum (CMS 1, 329). o-pa.γ vacat

Data Set 11

Wu 46.α capf supra sigillum C [5]. pa-ra-wo , o-pa.γ *171 30

Wu 62.α capm supra sigillum G [3]. vacat.γ vacat

Wu 64.α WE supra sigillum M [1]172

. o-pa

.γ vacat

Wu 72.α ovism supra sigillum F [5]. vacat.γ vacat

Data Set 12

confirms the interpretation of ovis/cap here ashides because it records the syllabogram WI, which,it is proposed, represents oxhides.168

It is by no means necessary that WI here shouldabbreviate wi-ri-no.169 But if it does, this creates prob-lems for the idea that the animal ideograms on theother sealings represent skins, since it seems oddthat the scribe would have chosen in one case to rep-resent “hide” with an abbreviated word and in othercases to represent “hides” with animal ideograms.

The matter is now put past reasonable doubt bythe Thebes Wu sealings found in 1982, which un-doubtedly record live animals, not skins.170 Someexamples are seen in data set 12; note their closeresemblance to the NEB sealings above.171


The Thebes sealings have nothing to do withworkshop production. Their purpose was to recordfoodstuffs—including live animals for sacrifice—assembled for a banquet.173 Could the NEB seal-ings have served a similar function? Note bothgroups feature the word o-pa. Melena174 rightly re-jected an early suggestion that this meant “work-shop”175 but his proposal that it indicates “workassigned to be performed”176 is difficult to acceptbecause such a designation already exists in theterm ta-ra-si-ja.177 Killen proposes an alternativeinterpretation of o-pa as “finishing,” working onitems at a stage beyond that of primary manufac-ture. In the context of livestock, this might mean“fattening up for slaughter”; the word has the sameusage in modern English.178 If this is correct, theno-pa on the NEB sealings could mean that the ani-mals had been (or were to be) fattened for con-sumption.179

Relevant to live animals, it is now understoodthat sealings such as those at Thebes were used asa basis for writing up tablets such as PY Un 138, arecord of provisions for a banquet.180 The sealingswere “field-records,” step one in the process ofconveying information into the palaces.181 It couldbe that the sealings in the NEB were eventuallyused to write tablets like Un 138.182 This practicewould be consistent with an interpretation of theNEB as a clearinghouse. It is unlikely that animalswould have been kept in the building—even tem-porarily—but they may have been dealt with ad-ministratively here. Possibly, the information abouttheir arrival in the citadel area would be broughtto the NEB, where orders would be issued aboutwhat was to be done with them, and, crucially, wherethe information concerning them would be re-ceived for incorporation into the administrativerecording system of the palace. Such a scenariowould be in keeping with the sealing distributionobserved in figure 14.

173 Piteros et al. 1990, 172–81.174 Melena 1983, esp. 282.175 Lejeune 1958, 39–40.176 Melena 1983, 285. Followed and developed by Shelmer-

dine 1987b, 337–8, 340–2.177 Killen 1999a.178 Killen 1999a, 332.179 See also Palaima 2000a, 264.180 Piteros, et al. 1990, 181–2.181 Killen 1994, 73.182 See now Palaima 2000a, 264, 266–7.183 PoN 4: “s.u. s. f but e.q. u. not entirely impossible.”184 “Secondary” refers to produce which can be obtained

without killing the animal (e.g., milk or wool). Pigs providemeat and hides, both of which require slaughter.

185 Note the high number is unprecedented for a sealing(and, as one of the anonymous reviewers rightly points out,for a banqueting record). I am grateful to J.-P. Olivier for manyyears ago stressing to me the uncertainty of the reading forthe ideogram.

186 PoN 4: “Probably logogrammatic, but an animalf notexcluded.”

187 Bennett and Olivier 1973 reads pi-r. i.[.188 Palaima 2000a, 265.189 The Mycenaean word for “kid” may be e-po (syncopated

form of ριφς); see Aura Jorro 1985, 227–8. I am grateful toJohn Killen for bringing this to my attention.

190 Bennett and Olivier 1973, 265. The ligature is not usedof humans.

Wp 1327 (Ci), room 98.α sigillum (CMS 1, 324). pe-re-i-to.γ ]s.u. s. f 35. 0183

Data Set 13

Wr 1458 (—), room 99?.α ]E. [ supra sigillum (CMS 1, 329)186

. vacat

.γ deest

Wr 1459 (—), room 99?.α sigillum (CMS 1, 329). vacat[.γ e-ri[ 187

Data Set 14

Another sealing from the NEB (data set 13) maydeal with pigs. If the reading SUS is correct, this seal-ing would also probably relate to banqueting, sincepigs were kept for eating rather than secondaryproducts.184 The ideogram is very broken, however(it could instead refer to horses), and it is best tosuspend judgment.185

Two final sealings that may deal with livestockare Wr 1458 and Wr 1459 (data set 14).

Palaima suggests restoring e-ri[-po in Wr 1459,which he interprets as ριφς “baby goat, kid.”188

The word appears nowhere else in the Mycenae-an corpus, however, so caution must be main-tained.189 In Wr 1458.a, The Pylos Tablets Transcribedhad read the remnants of the ligature indicating“female,” which would indicate that some type ofanimal was involved, even if it was not clear whatsort.190 In PoN 4, the authors prefer to read a logo-gram. Palaima suggests that this may yet be an an-imal, if it abbreviates his proposed e-ri-po. But since


E appears elsewhere in the NEB representing deer-skin (see below: Ub 1316 and 1317), uncertaintyremains.

NEB tablets dealing with livestock are seen indata set 15.

The Cc tablets are fragmentary. pe-re on Cc 1284may represent /pherei/ “he brings.” Cn 1286 hasthe same general form as the Cc tablets—a wordor two of text, an ideogram, and a number—butthe tablet is page-shaped and the scribe had ruledmore lines than were actually written in, as if an-ticipating more information.191 The Cc tablets andCn 1286 might also relate to banqueting. The num-

bers of animals recorded are all very small, and ithas been observed as a general (though not abso-lute) rule that small numbers of livestock tend tooccur on documents dealing with animals intend-ed for consumption.192

Cn 1287 similarly registers small numbers of an-imals, this time against persons who are conspicu-ously not goatherds: a herald (probably), fuller,potter, weaver, “slave of Di-u-ja” (a female deity)193

and “slave of MN.” The names are nominative, so itis uncertain if these are deliveries or disburse-ments. If disbursements, the animals might be “pay-ments,” presumably for services rendered, possibly

191 One wonders if this is an example of a “compilation”document—perhaps the scribe began to write a redactionfrom palm-leaf shaped tablets or sealings and stopped for somereason.

192 Chadwick 1985, 200; Palaima 1992, 65; Killen 1994, 77.193 The deity also possesses slaves on An 607, while in Tn

316 she receives a woman and a golden bowl.

Cc 1258 (S4-H21), court 47] capf 30

Cc 1283 (S4-H21), court 94]ovism 1 [

Cc 1284 (S4-H21), room 99]u. , pe-re cap 8 [

Cc 1285 (S4-H21), court 92ma-se-de , ovism 6[

Cn 1286 (Cii), room 99.1 o-pi-ra-i-ja ovis 3 cap 1.2 vacat.3 vacat.4 vacat.5 vacat

Cn 1287 (H31), room 99 IDEOGRAM

MN’s OCCUPATIONS & NO. NOTES.1 a-*64-jo , a-ke-ro capf 1 /angelos/? “herald”?.2 te-re-do ka-na-pe-u capf 1 /knapheus/ “fuller”.3 na-ma-ru-ko capf 1.4 qe-ta-ko ke-ra-me-u capf 1 /kerameus/ “potter”.5 da-u-da-ro , pe-re-ke-u capf 1 /plekeus/? “weaver”?.6 mu-ti-ri-ko , di-u-ja , do-e-ro capf 1 slave of Di-u-ja (a goddess).7 a2-ra-ka-wo ke-re-ta-o do-e-ro capf 1 slave of MN.8 a-sa-ma-o capf 1.9 mo-ri-wo capf 2.10 ma-ni-ko capf 1.11 vacat

Verso Drawing of a labyrinth

Data Set 15


similar to the situation suggested for men receiv-ing foodstuffs on Un 1322. There are, however, nosure examples of payments being made to crafts-men in livestock, so this is perhaps not the bestexplanation.

If Cn 1287 concerns deliveries, it is possible toargue that, as with the Qa tablets, this is no ordinarytax.194 Since the persons are not goatherds, whyshould they contribute goats? Even if some crafts-men had standing flocks or a few goats of their own(which is not unlikely), we need to explain why thepalace would choose to tax just these people. Thereare no other Mycenaean records where taxes arepaid in livestock and, if the palace had obtainedanimals in this way, the tax should be levied mostheavily on shepherds and goatherds, not pottersand weavers. Further, other tablets of the Cn seriesshow that the palace owned huge numbers of sheepand goats in flocks all over the polity.195 Why wouldthe palace bother to obtain small numbers of goatsby taxation when it already possessed extensiveflocks?

The small numbers of animals involved againsuggest a possible connection with banqueting.196

A possibility in this light is that Cn 1287 should becompared with tablets such as Un 138 and Cn 418,where important officials contribute foodstuffs in-tended for major feasts. Provision of supplies forbanqueting would not be “tax” in the ordinary sense(though it was perhaps a social obligation for some);but being able to contribute goods in this way wouldhave been a means of enhancing social prestige,displaying personal wealth, and securing recipro-cal obligation. While the donations on Cn 1287 arenot as lavish as those seen in the examples cited,this could be in keeping with the lower status (and/or inferior wealth) of the contributors. It might havebeen considered worthwhile and prestigious tomake lesser contributions, be it only a single goat.Not everyone in the society would have been in aposition to give even so much—these craftsmen mayhave been among the wealthy and prominent oftheir professions.

Killen suggests a parallel for the contribution ofthe slave of ke-re-ta-o (Cn 1287.7) in the KnossosC(2) series, recently recognized as concerned withbanqueting.197 C(2) 941 records a man a-pi-qo-ta who

gives ten female and more than eight male sheepdescribed as intended for slaughter or sacrifice: sa-pa-ka-te-ri-ja /sphakt2ria/.198 C(2) 915 has anothercontribution from a-pi-qo-ta and a contribution of10 female goats—the same type of animal seen inCn 1287—by his slave (data set 16).

It is attractive to interpret all the NEB livestockdocuments as related to ceremonial banqueting;but whether or not this is correct, nothing herecontributes to the workshop argument. The docu-ments do however make sense in the context ofpalatial redistribution—movement and manage-ment of goods—whatever the animals were ulti-mately intended for. Their findspots in the NEBare explained if this was a major center throughwhich goods (or information about them) wouldpass.

Documents Dealing with Leather GoodsUb 1315 (data set 17) lists skins, reins, halters,

and trappings for animals.199 Chadwick stresses a con-nection with “chariot equipment,” noting that redskins may have been used as coverings for chariots;the Knossos chariot tablets (Sd) use a word denot-ing a reddish color, po-ni-ki-ja.200 Although the possi-bility should be noted that the record simply relatesto animal trappings in general, another NEB docu-ment dealing with chariots would be unsurprising.

Ub 1315 is written by H31, the scribe who wroteCn 1287. There need not be a link in subjects be-tween the two tablets merely on account of sharedscribal hand, but as Killen observes, if there is alink “the connection need only be that the skins ofthe animals on 1287 were used for leather manu-facture after the animals had been slaughtered forconsumption. Note that in the Classical period skinsof animals consumed at sacrificial banquets wereoften sold to tanners by organizers of the festivi-ties.”201 Whatever the case, the tablet does not di-rectly concern actual manufacture. It is an invento-ry or a record of movement of goods.

194 Or even a “confiscation” to supply the workshop, as inJasink 1984, 21.

195 See Killen 1993.196 A banqueting context for Cn 1287 is argued for by, e.g.,

Aravantinos 1990, 162; Godart 1999, 251; Killen 1999a, 334.Palaima (1992, 65) suggests, with appropriate caution, that thelabyrinth on the verso might pertain to a religious context.

197 Killen 1994, 73–6; 1999a, 334.

198 Killen 1994, 75–6; Lejeune 1971, 203, n. 18.199 Transcriptions given in the tabular breakdown are most-

ly those preferred in Aura Jorro 1985 and 1993. (s.v.v.). For ro-u-si-je-wi-ja and ra-pte-ri-ja, see Docs2, 520; for po-qe-wi-ja, seeDocs2, 521; for ZE, see Docs2, 593; Melena 1987a; Aura Jorro1993, 458.

200 Docs2, 519–21.201 Killen 1999a, 334.

KN C(2) 915 (112).A ] ovisf 10 [.B ] pa-ro , a-pi-qo-ta / pa-ro , do-e-ro capf 10 [

Data Set 16


To clarify the structure in the next example, Ub1318 (data set 18), personal names appear in boldtype. Of the documents seen so far, Ub 1318 comesclosest to having to do with actual manufacture.Various persons receive skins, and the documentspecifies what is to be done with the skins: they are“for saddlebags,” “for sandals,” and so forth.202

Two points need to be made. First, the disbursals

for the leather industry witnessed in Ub 1318 arewholly in keeping with standard palatial administra-tive practices. There is nothing unusual about thissort of document. Second, Ub 1318 is not strictlyspeaking a “workshop record.” It does not deal withprocesses of manufacture; rather it records the dis-bursement of supplies and stipulates what is to bedone with them. Nothing in this text implies that

202 See Ruijgh 1966; Docs2, 490–3; Ruipérez and Melena1990, 172, 251; Flouda 2000, 228. Interpretations in the tab-ular breakdown mostly follow Aura Jorro (1985 and 1993)(s.v.v.). On e-pi-u-ru-te-we see now Melena forthcoming (s.v.*19); Docs2 (493, 544) takes the form as nom. pl. For ze-u-ke-si,see Docs2, 593. For the obscure words of line 3, see Docs2, 491,

Aura Jorro 1993, 266, 362–3. For wo-ro-ma-ta, see Ruijgh 1966,140; Docs2, 491, 592; Melena 1987a, 451. we-ru-ma-ta may be/welumata/ “wrappers” (Docs2, 492) or /werumata/ “bridles”(Ruijgh 1966, 145); see also Aura Jorro 1993, 423. On a3-za,see Docs2, 493, 537; Aura Jorro 1985, 142.

Ub 1315 (H31), room 99.1 ]-wo-ja a-ni-ja , te-u-ke-pi , 5 di-pte-ra3 e-ru-ta-ra 1[6[.2 ro-u-si-je-wi-ja 6 ra-pte-ri-ja a-ni-ja 3

a 2.3 ne-wa , a-ni-ja , a-na-pu-ke , 5 dwo 2 a-pu-ke 9 a-ni-ja-e-e-ro-pa-jo-qe-r.o. -s.a.

a 1.4 a-pe-ne-wo 4 a-pu-ke , a-pe-ne-wo ne-wa po-qe-wi-ja ZE 11

TRANSLATION NO. TRANSCRIPTION INTERPRETATION. . . reinswith equipment

treated hidesred

“Lousian” [hides?]

with stitching?reins

newreinswithout headbands

two

headbands

??

[reins] of cart animals ?

headbandsof cart animals ?

newhalterspairs?

5

16

6

3

5

2

9

2

4

1

11

]-wo-ja a-ni-jate-u-ke-pi

di-pte-ra3

e-ru-ta-ra

ro-u-si-je-wi-ja

ra-pte-ri-jaa-ni-ja

ne-waa-ni-jaa-na-pu-ke

dwo

a-pu-ke

a-ni-ja-e-e-ro-pa-jo-qe-r.o. -s.a.

a-pe-ne-wo

a-pu-kea-pe-ne-wo

ne-wapo-qe-wi-jaZE

nom. pl. /(h)aniai/ “reins”neut. instr. pl. /teukhesphi/ “with equipment”

nom. pl. /diphtherai/ “treated hides”nom. pl. /eruthrai/ “red”

deriv. in /-2wios/ from the place name ro-u-so

nom. pl. fem. /rhapt2riai/ adj. from *απτρsee above

nom. pl. fem. /newai/ “new”see abovenom. pl. fem. /an-ampukes/ “no headbands”

nom. /dw4/ refers to following entry?

nom. pl. /ampukes/ “headbands”

obscure

gen. pl. /ap2n2w4n/ “of cart animals”?

see abovesee above

see abovenom. pl. /phorgu2wiai/ “halters”prob. abbreviation of /zeugos/ “yoke, pair”

Data Set 17


the work was carried out on the spot. Again, the pres-ence of documents need not imply that the activitiesthey record took place in the area where they werefound. Disbursement records for perfumery andbronze manufacture were found in the AC, but suchactivities were not carried out there. Similarly, Ub1318 indicates only administrative activity; it doesnot constitute evidence that leatherworking was car-ried out in the NEB. Beyond this, since disburse-ment documents found in storerooms do generally

refer to disbursements of things that were storedthere, and since the NEB—unlike the AC—reallywas a storage complex (i.e., for storing things otherthan tablets), it is likely that the materials disbursedwere kept in the building. One is reminded of thered stains on the floors of rooms 97 and 98: the “redskins” of Ub 1315 and 1318 may have been amongthe commodities stored in those rooms.

The only other documents written by the scribe ofUb 1318 (H32) are also from the NEB (data set 19).

203 ti is scribal error for pi.

Ub 1318 (H32), room 99.1 au-ke-i-ja-te-we , ka-tu-re-w. i. -ja-i di-pte-ra 4 [ . . . . ]d. i. -pte-ra 2 au-ke-i-ja-te-we , o-ka , di-pte-r. a. [.2 au-ke-i-ja-te-we o-pi-de-so-mo[ ]ka-tu-ro2 , di-pte-ra 4 ka-ne-ja[ ]wo-ro-ma-ta 4.3 me-ti-ja-no , to-pa , ru-de-a2 , d. i. -pte-ra 1 a-re-se-si , e-ru-ta-ra , di-pte-r. a. 3 wo-di-je-ja , pe-di-ra 2.4 we-e-wi-ja , di-pte-ra , 10 wi-ri-no , we-ru-ma-ta , ti-ri-s.i. , ze-u-ke-si 1.5 wi-ri-no , pe-di-ro , e-ma-ta 4 e-ra-pe-ja , e-pi-u-ru-te-we , E 2.6 a-pe-i-ja , u-po , ka-ro , we-[ ]-ja 1 u-po , we-e-wi-ja , e-ra-pe-ja E 1.7 mu-te-we , we-re-ne-ja , ku[ ]pe-re 1 mu-te-we , di-pte-ra , a3-za , pe-di-ro-i 1.8 vacat.9 vacat

RECIPIENT PURPOSE/OTHERITEM

COUNTED

to au-ke-i-ja-te-u

to au-ke-i-ja-te-uto au-ke-i-ja-te-u

to me-ti-ja-no

to wo-di-je-ja

to a-pe-i-ja

to mu-te-we

4 skins2 skinsx skins4 skins4 containers1 skin3 red skins2 sandals10 pig skins3 pairs of4 oxhide laces2 deer skins1 [pigskin?]1 deer skin1 lamb’s [skin]1 goat’s skin

for saddlebagsfor ? (text lost)[for] support straps[for] bindings of pack saddlesmade of wickerfor something obscurefor sacks/bags

oxhide wrappersof sandalsfor a garment?for “under fringe”?under pigskin?for ? (text lost)for sandals

Data Set 18

Ub 1316 (H32), room 99 .a e-ra-pi-ja

ra-ma-o , o-pe-ro , pe-ru-si-nu-wa E 8 MN: /ophelos perusinwai elaphiai/ “deficit: last year’sdeerskins”

Ub 1317 (H32), room 99 .a e-ra-ti-ja-o203

i-wa-ka , o-pe-ro , pe-ru-si-nwa-o E 8 MN: /ophelos perusinwa4n elaphia4n/ “deficit of lastyear’s deerskins”

Data Set 19


These tablets record deerskins coming in. Therubric o-pe-ro pe-ru-si-nu-wo (last year’s debt) is com-mon in tax records kept by the central administra-tion. These are records of more than temporaryimportance, and reflect archival-type activities inthe NEB. Together with Ub 1318, they give us an-other classic instance of resource redistribution,with reference to both sides of the process: deer-skins come in on Ub 1316 and 1317, and are dis-bursed in Ub 1318.5–6.

To conclude, Ub 1315–1318 show involvementof the NEB in storage, disbursal, and receipt of leath-er goods, especially animal trappings. This circum-stance must be related to An 1282, where men wereassigned to work on “halters” and “chariots”: theNEB was clearly involved in the administration ofsuch things. But nothing suggests that this is wherethe manufacture was carried out.

Documents Dealing with Weapons and ChariotsSa 1313 (data set 20) deals with chariot wheels. It

belongs by scribal hand and stylus (S287-H26)204 toa set of tablets whose other members were found inthe AC. It is probable that the entire set was writtenin the NEB, then moved to the AC, with Sa 1313being left behind,205 emphasizing the close connec-tion and common interests of the two administra-tive areas.

The Sa set reveals that the chariot industry wasvery large. A totaling tablet for the series, Sa 787,

records some 85 pairs of wheels—170 wheels. Ifthe NEB were the chariot workshop, how many menworking for what lengths of time would have need-ed to be present in the building to produce thismany wheels? As discussed previously, space wouldnot allow more than seven or eight men at once—and some of these should also have been workingon chariot bodies and halters. It seems more rea-sonable to suppose that wheels were stored or mon-itored, not produced, in the NEB.206

The next two tablets are Va 1323 and 1324 (dataset 21). e-ke-i-ja on Va 1324 is tentatively interpretedin Docs as /enkhehiai/ “spears.”207 But, as Killen hasrecently argued, the sense of the word is probablymore along the lines of “pieces of wood for [mak-ing] e-ke-a” (i.e., for making spears). So the docu-ments in hand probably have to do with raw materi-als that are to be worked on, rather than with fin-ished products.208

Vn 10 (data set 22), from the AC, is relevant. Theheading states “thus the woodcutters (/drutomoi/)give to the joiners’ or wheelwrights’ workshop[usually taken by semantic extension as the ‘char-iot-workshop’]209 50 young X210 and (/-qe/) 50 ax-les (/axones/).”211 As Killen notes, a-ko-so-ne here mustmean “wood for making axles” rather than the fin-ished product,212 suggesting that this may be so forVa 1324 as well. The so-called chariot-workshop ofVn 10.2 is sometimes taken to refer to the NEB, butI have argued above that the NEB was not the main

204 The ascription is given in Bennett and Olivier 1976, 62,followed by Palaima 1988, 214. PoN 4 apparently calls this intodoubt, but speculation here would be inappropriate.

205 Chadwick 1958, 4; Palaima 1988, 91–4, esp. 93, 156;Shelmerdine 1987b, 334–5. Two transport labels, Wa 1148 and1271, were found with those Sa tablets in the AC, suggestingthey had recently been moved.

206 See also Flouda 2000, 229–30.207 Docs2, 542.208 Killen 1999b, 348.209 See Palaima 1980, 200, n. 30 (with useful discussion and

bibliography), 201 (“to the workshop for chariot assemblage”);Docs2, 350, 371, 530 (/harmotej4na-de/ “to the wheelwrights’

workshops”); Aura Jorro 1985, 57–60 (esp. 59: “literalmente«luger donde hay ruedas», y por extensión semántica «tallerde carros»”).

210 The meaning of e-pi-*19-ta (lines 2 and 5) is unknown.It was formerly read as e-pi-pu2-ta, interpreted as /epiphuta/“trees/saplings.” For the new reading, see Melena forthcom-ing (cf. Palaima 1980, 194–9); Aura Jorro 1985, 223, 226–7 withprevious bibliographies.

211 Palaima 1980, 199–203.212 Op.cit. Cf. also Docs2, 506: /axones/ need not actually rep-

resent axles but could refer to “any round poles thicker thanthose used for spears.”

Sa 1313 (H26?), room 98]w. e. -je-ke-e[ rota /uweike(h)e/? “serviceable”? (WHEEL)

Data Set 20

Va 1323 (Cii), room 99a-ko-so-ne , ka-zo-e 32 /axones katsohes/ “inferior axles”

Va 1324 (Cii), room 99.1 e-ke-i-ja 30 /enkhehiai/ “spears” or neut. pl. /enkhehia/ “wood for spears”.2 pe-di-je-wi-ja 20 a-ko-so-ne 2 /pedi2wiai/? “infantry spears”? /axones/ “axles” [wood for]

Data Set 21


chariot workshop since it could not have accommo-dated the attested workforce.213 More likely, the NEBwas a management center to which raw materials(or information about them) were brought and fromwhich they (or orders about them) would be redis-tributed to the workshops where they were need-ed. The appearance of similar items on Vn 10 andNEB documents suggests a close working relation-ship between the NEB and the AC, administeringthe redistribution process in tandem. The NEBwould have been a more convenient place than theAC itself for materials to be received, and that theyactually were received there is suggested by a seal-ing from the NEB that mentions another commod-ity from Vn 1324214 (data set 23).

may compare the men designated ki-u-ro-i in An1282.2.217 Vn 1341 appears to be connected witharchery. pa-ta-jo is /paltaion/ “dart, javelin” (presum-ably here in the genitive plural, since the numeral200 follows)218 and to-ka-te-ri-ja may be /stochast2ria/“for targets.”219 po-ti-ni-ja (line 3) is perhaps a sur-prising entry on such a document, but it should benoted that the tablet is very broken and the readingis uncertain. New cleaning has significantly alteredthe text. The reading here, proposed in PoN 4, issubstantially that given by Melena,220 but as he notes:“The reading is prevented by the numerous crackswhich could be taken as deliberate strokes: this isthe case of the -pi- on line 3, which actually could bea -ti- crossed by a horizontal crack provoked by theupper horizontal stroke of the preceding p. o. - andthe left crossing bar of following -ni-.”221

In a recent reading of the tablet text by Killenthe word does not appear222 (see data set 25).

Given the uncertainty as to whether Potnia doesappear on this tablet, I refrain from speculationhere.

/paltaion/ in line 7 appears also in a new docu-ment from Pylos, which probably comes from theNEB.223

Like Wr 1328, Wr 1480 (data set 26) providesevidence for something recorded on a tablet fromthe NEB actually coming in.224 Shelmerdine andBennet interpret the text as “of javelins/darts, han-dles,” and suggest that the shafts of these items wereassembled separately from the points.225 They notea connection with An 1282.3, where men are notedas do-ka-ma-i, i.e. “for [work on] do-ka-ma” (plural),and suggest that Killen’s tentative interpretationof ki-u-ro/ki-wa-ro as “flints” or “flint arrowheads”would provide an attractive “rationale for An 1282(the men recorded are involved in military produc-tion to do with chariots and weapons).”226 If this iscorrect, we must again stress the large numbers ofmen recorded on An 1282. Thirteen are designat-ed ki-u-ro-i, with 36 more designated do-ka-ma-i.These 49 men could not all have been working in

213 If we take a-mo-te-jo-na-de as referring to a place where allsorts of “joining” was carried out, the problem is only exacer-bated.

214 On all these documents see Palaima 2000a, 261–71; forth-coming.

215 Olivier 1997, 74; see also Shelmerdine 1987b, 338.216 See Melena 1996–1997a, 165–7 for a recent discussion

taking into account the new joins.217 Killen 1999b, 349.218 Shelmerdine and Bennet 1995, 127. Note this will be

some sort of a hurling spear, rather than an arrow; see Docs2,513, 515, 569.

219 Alternatively, Melena (1996–1997b, 169, n. 18) suggeststhat this is connected with the verb στρω “to pen, shut

up, cattle” (Hesych.), and that to-ka-te-ri-ja ki-wa-ra are wicker-work pens: /skiwra storkhasteria/.

220 See Melena 1996–1997a, 168–70.221 Melena 1996–1997a, 168.222 Killen 1999b, 347.223 Shelmerdine and Bennet 1995, 124, 126. It was found

in a flowerbed some meters down slope from the NEB. Its sub-ject matter and proximity to the building strongly suggest itoriginated there.

224 Shelmerdine and Bennet 1995, 127. See also Palaima2000a, 269–71.

225 Shelmerdine and Bennet 1995, 131–2.226 Shelmerdine and Bennet 1995, 132, n.32, referring to

Killen 1999b, 349–50 (cf. esp. n.21).

Vn 10 (H3), AC.1 o-di-do-si , du-ru-to-mo ,.2 a-mo-te-jo-na-de , e-pi-*19-ta 50.3 a-ko-so-ne-q.e. 50.4 to-sa-de , ro-u-si-jo , a-ko-ro , a-ko-so-ne.5 100 , to-sa-de , e-pi-*19-ta 100

Data Set 22

Wr 1328 (Ci), room 98.α sigillum (CMS 1, 318). pe-di-e-.γ -wi

Data Set 23

The word is probably an error for pe-di-je-wi-ja/pedi2wia/ “infantry spear”(?), already seen on Vn1324.2 in the plural.215 As described above, seal-ings concern movements of goods, so here the NEBis involved in the movement of spears, but notnecessarily their production.

The next two tablets concern wood for spears andaxles and perhaps archery (data set 24).

e-ke-ja on Vn 1339 is a variant spelling of e-ke-i-jaon Vn 1324.216 With ki-wa-ra on 1339 and 1341 we


the NEB—why then suppose that this was a majorlocus for such work?

To sum up, the NEB appears to have had a strongconnection with chariotry and armory, though it isimplausible that such production was undertakenthere. The sealings document goods coming in,which shows management of raw materials related tothe industry. Sa 1313 provides evidence for finishedproducts, possibly in store in the building, and An1282 shows management of the relevant personnel.

Miscellaneous TabletsFour tablets with ideograms and/or reasonable

amounts of text do not fit into other categories.Ja 1288 (e.g., data set 27) registers a measure of

bronze (aes) against a man’s name, ka-ra-wi-so. Thetext resembles entries from the Jn tablets, record-ing allotments made to bronzesmiths under the ta-ra-si-ja system.228

Compare the first few lines of Jn 310 (data set28). Line 1 gives the heading: “a-ke-re-wa [a majortoponym]: bronzesmiths having assignments,” fol-lowed by men’s names with their allotted amountsof metal. Each single entry in isolation looks exact-ly like Ja 1288, with a man’s name, aes and a mea-sure. The amount issued in Ja 1288 is large, butwithin the range of amounts issued in the Jn se-ries—for instance, there are numerous issues of M

5 (Jn 658, Jn 706).229 Given the similarities, the Jnseries may have been a redaction based on tabletssuch as Ja 1288. It is was common practice for Myce-naean scribes to compile page-shaped docu-ments—such as Jn 310—from shorter palm-leafshaped ones—such as Ja 1288.230 At Pylos, such pro-cessing was normally done in the AC, often on thebasis of documents written elsewhere. As men-tioned above, the Sa tablets were probably original-ly written in the NEB, then moved to the AC—pos-sibly for the purpose of being written up into a page-shaped tablet—leaving behind Sa 1313. Could itbe that the information contained in the Jn seriesalso originated in the NEB, written on tablets suchas Ja 1288? Was perhaps the NEB the major store-room from which bronze was disbursed?231

Vn 1314 may refer to medicines, if pa-ma-ko is/pharmakon/, but Janko’s interpretation of it alongthese lines232 must be reviewed in the light of sub-sequent substantial changes to the text233 (dataset 29).

227 Possibly pi-r.e. -r.o. -t.o. (Bennett 1992, 120).228 For recent discussions of the Jn series, see Smith 1991,

1992–1993.229 But note, as J.T. Killen points out to me, P amounts do

not occur in the Jn series.230 E.g., information on the palm-leaf Eb tablets was com-

piled and written up on the page-shaped Ep tablets.231 The lack of ingots in the building could be caused by

looting, or perhaps more likely, removal before the destruc-tion. The poor character of finds from the palace as a wholemay suggest conscious removal of valuable goods. On the oth-er hand, if disbursements were of scrap metal, we do have bronzescrap in the NEB.

232 Janko 1981.233 See PoN 4.

Vn 1339 (Ciii), room 99.1 e-ke-ja [3. 2. ][ ]j. a. , 127[ “spears” or “wood for spears” (see above).2 ki-wa-[ra ] , k. i. -ta-r. o. -ka-t.a. , 6 [.3 a-ko-so-ne[ ]8 [.4 ] 6 [

Vn 1341 (Ciii), room 99.1 deest.2 ]-t.e. -d. e. -t.a. , k. i. -wa-ra-e-r. u..3 p. o. -t. i. -n. i. -ja.4 to-ka-te-ri-ja , ki-wa-ra.5 []-k. u. -d. a. -r. u. -e.6 k. u. -[]-ka[ ]ki-wa-ra 5.7 t.u. -[ ]pa-t.a. -jo 200.8 ]v.

Data Set 24

Vn 1341.0 mutila.1 ]-ja-ra-e[.2 ]pi-[ ]-r. o. -t.o. 227

.3 t.o. - ka-te-ri-ja , ki-wa-r. a. [

.4 ]ro-e

.5 ]ka[ ]k. i.-wa-ra 5

.6 ]p. a. -t. a. -j. o. 200

Data Set 25


The document adds yet another dimension toactivities and goods appearing in the NEB tablets.It may refer to goods coming in, if pe-re = /pherei/ “hebrings, delivers,”235 but these do not seem to be re-lated to any of the goods previously observed.236 Astriking feature of the NEB documents is that theydeal with a great variety of goods.

Apart from noting that *146, a simple form ofcloth, was already encountered in Un 1322, Mb 1336(data set 30) is so fragmentary that little further canbe inferred.

The final document, Un 1320 (data set 31), dealswith something represented by the syllabogram A,the significance of which is unknown. The com-mon rubric “pa-ro + MN” generally indicates items“from,” “with” (chez) or “under the control of” themen. Un 1320 is thus probably a record of receiptsor items being monitored. Without knowing what

A represents we cannot say much more,237 beyondadding it to our list of different commodities.

Obscure DocumentsThe remaining documents (data sets 32, 33, 34,

35) include no ideograms (unless O is logogram-matic on Xa 638) and little text. They are set outhere for the sake of providing a complete accountof records from the NEB.

Doubts about whether Xa 639 (data set 32) orig-inated from the area of the NEB now seem to beresolved.238 We might note the appearance of themajor Further Province town a-si-ja-ti-ja, which againshows the NEB operating at a distance and makinguse of the standard administrative divisions, as al-ready discussed. Also, Xa 1337 (data set 33), mayinclude the word o-pe-ro (if the reading is correct),indicating “more than temporary” interest.239

Three sealings (data set 35) are the subject ofnew research by Palaima. Briefly, he suggests thatWr 1329 is related to Wr 1328 (also from room 98),recording pe-di-e-wi, and Vn 1324 (from room 99),recording pa-ta-jo 20240 (see “Documents dealingwith weapons and chariotry”). He also suggests thatWr 1330, 1333, and 1459 belong to a unified settogether with Wr 1331, 1332, 1333, 1334, 1458, and1459241 (see “Documents dealing with livestock”).This work, though important, does not affect thecentral argument concerning whether or not thebuilding was a workshop.

234 Pini reports that the “features most closely approximateCMS I.375” (Shelmerdine and Bennet 1995, 126).

235 Although, as J.T. Killen points out to me, in KN Od (1)562 the term seems to mean “deliveries to” (workers).

236 The possible reading do-we-n.a. -qe may now be paralleledin On 300 (from the AC); see Melena 1996–1997a, 160.

237 For suggestions see Melena 1987b, 613–8; Palaima 1992,65–7.

238 Shelmerdine (1987b, 333 n. 4) rightly pointed out thatif the component number really were 1952S3/1, as given byBennett and Olivier (1976, 65) and Palaima (1988, 219, see

also 125), then Xa 639 could not be from the NEB. Trench S3cut through the AC, not the NEB (see PoN 3, fig. 302). How-ever, PoN 4 now has the component number as 1952S9/1. S9did run into ramp 91, and this is presumably the tablet frag-ment mentioned as coming from S9 in the 1952 excavationreport (Blegen 1953, 63).

239 Palaima (1992, 66) suggests a-ka-na-j. o. may describe somesort of animal produce, related to the commodity on Un 1320,but the sign-group could also be a man’s name.

240 Palaima 2000a, 271.241 Palaima 2000a, 264ff.

Wr 1480 ( — ), surface.α wa supra sigillum234

. pa-ta-jo nom. sg. /paltaion/ or gen. pl. /paltai4n/ “dart/javelin”

.γ d.o. -ka-ma /dork(h)ma, -ai/ “handful[s],” “handle[s],” “shaft[s]”

Data Set 26

Ja 1288 (Cii), room 99ka-ra-wi-so aes m 4 n 1 p 6

Data Set 27

Jn 310 (S310-H2), AC.1 ]a-ke-re-wa , ka-ke-we , ta-ra-si-ja , e-ko-te ,.2 ti-qa-jo aes m 1 n 2 qe-ta-wo aes m 1 n 2.3 a3-so-ni-jo aes m 1 n 2 ta-mi-je-u aes m 1 n 2&c.

Data Set 28

Vn 1314 (Cii), room 99.1 a-wa-ra-ka-na-o , pa-ma-ko.2 j.o. -qi , wo-to-mo , pe-re 1

A do-we-n. a. -qe , K. A . -n. a. K. A . possibly 1.0. 0..3 B a-wa-ra-ka-na e-pi-ka , k. a. -ja , pa-ra-we-

Data Set 29


conclusion

Finds and architecture indicate the NEB was amajor storage facility, perhaps especially for weap-onry, and the seat of unusual administrative activity.Artifacts felt to support the workshop interpreta-tion of the building are by no means exclusivelyassociated with the NEB, and the identification ofsome of them as workshop tools is questionable.

The Linear B data show involvement of the NEBin large-scale movements of personnel—far toomany to have been working in the building itself—along with evidence that NEB administrators wereinvolved in supplying rations and bedding. Noth-ing compels the view that any of the personnel wereworking in the NEB. The tablets mention a varietyof occupations—leatherworkers, chariot-makers,wheelwrights, halter-makers, men making weap-ons(?), a net-maker, a weaver, and (apparently) a

bronzesmith. Other tablets add a herald(?), a full-er, a potter, priests, priestesses, officials, and slaves.Similarly, a large variety of commodities are men-tioned: grain, wine, cloth, sheep, goats, reins, skins,headbands, sandals, wicker baskets, wheels, axles,spears, bronze, medicine(?), and unidentified com-modities such as *189, A, A2, KU, PA, WO, and KA.Leather goods, weaponry, and animal trappings areprominent, but they do not tell the whole story.

The variety and scope of goods and occupationssuggest a clearinghouse rather than a workshop.The large number of sealings corroborates this in-terpretation—the distribution of sealings at Pylossuggests that the NEB was a point of entry for goodsfor the palace as a whole. Strong scribal connec-tions between the NEB and the AC further supportthe conclusion. The NEB was an arm of the centraladministrative system.

It is consistent with this view that the NEB yield-ed numerous impeccable examples of redistribu-tion-type records. Men were recruited into the sys-tem (see the Ac tablets) and were assigned to theirworkgroups or supervisors (see An 1281 and An1282). Deerskins were brought in (see Ub 1315and 1316) and transferred to workers or others whowould use them (see Ub 1318). It has long beenwondered where the goods recorded in the AC atPylos were actually disbursed from and received,since rooms 7 and 8 themselves are too small tohave well suited such a function.242 I suggest herethat much of the physical movement of goods tookplace in and around the NEB. The Mycenaean pal-aces have long been known to be redistributive cen-ters. The NEB, like the Mycenae West House group,was one of the physical locations through whichsuch redistribution took place.

Finally, the presence of Linear B tablets is notevidence that activities they record took place intheir vicinity. There were no bronzesmiths in theAC at Pylos, nor shepherds in the Palace of Knos-

Mb 1336 ( — ), room 97]jo *1.4. 6. 1.1.[

Data Set 30

Un 1320 (Cii), room 99.1 ka-ra[ ]ru-wa.2 [ ]A 5.3 vest.[ A ]4..4 ]vest. [.5 ]jo [ A.6 pa-ro ]a-ke-ra-w. o. , A. [ qs.7 pa-ro ]e. -ri-we-ro , A 3.8 p. a. -ro , e-u-ka-no , A 2.9 pa-ro , ru-na , A 1.10 vacat.11 vacat

Verso Drawing of animal’s (pig?) head

Data Set 31

Xa 639 (Cii), ramp 91a-si-ja-ti-ja , e-te-wa-jo o[ o may be logogrammatic (O)

Data Set 32

Xa 1337 (Ciii), court 92.1 ]k.e. -wa-o , o-p. e.[-ro prob. MN gen..2 ]8 a-ka-na-j.o. [ MN (a “collector” at ro-u-so)

Data Set 33

242 See Palaima and Wright 1985.


sos (at least, not accompanied by their sheep), norpotters in the West Houses at Mycenae. Toponymson many documents attest to the existence of work-groups outside the palaces. Women workers record-ed at Pylos were spread throughout Messenia; atleast 15 groups of bronzesmiths worked in other

towns; shepherds are recorded at numerous top-onyms, and various other occupational groups arealso attested. All these persons, though located faraway, are recorded in documents at the center—atPylos. We do not assume, because the contrary isattested by the different toponyms, that these per-sons worked in or near where the documents werefound. No such assumption is therefore warrantedin the case of the NEB. Rid of this assumption, onlyindependent internal evidence from the docu-ments could save the workshop hypothesis. Theydo not provide it. Instead, they raise problems forthe hypothesis and point in other directions.

A fresh look at the data suggests no reason forbelieving that the NEB was a workshop. The tabletsdo show a strong connection with the militarysphere, and this was clearly an important aspect ofadministrative concerns of the building. While itwould be misleading to see this as its exclusive func-tion, Blegen’s first idea of the “Palace Armory” wascloser to the truth than the later workshop hypoth-esis. The NEB may well have been a major weaponsstore. The workshop mentioned in Vn 10 may havebeen involved in chariot production, but the NEBis not to be equated with this place.245 The produc-tion must have been carried out elsewhere, but wassupplied and monitored by the central administra-tion working in the AC and the NEB.

The reinterpretation of the Pylos NEB as a clear-inghouse or redistributive center, rather than aworkshop, has various historical implications. Ishould like to conclude with a suggestion of fiveareas of research that might be affected.

First, the issue of what workshops existed at Pylosneeds to be re-examined; there are important impli-cations for the function of the Mycenaean palaces.246

Second, it has been suggested that Pylos in itslatter stages suffered an economic decline suchthat some production centers (i.e., workshops)were moved into the palace complex itself, whilestructural changes were made to increase work-shop and storeroom space and to restrict accessand traffic flow patterns.247 The NEB as a workshopformed an element of such arguments and thereinterpretation proposed here might suggest areview of the evidence. The theory may well standwithout the NEB but, given the last decade’s ener-

Xa 1342 (Ciii), room 99.1 to-so-o , qe-[.2 e-ni , a-pu-ki-s.i.[

Xa 1343 ( — ), room 97.1 ]vacat[.2 ]-q.e. -re-te-u[.3 infra mutila

Xn 1261 (Ciii), ramp 91.1 ]-p. a. [.2 ]-to-ro , [.3 ]-te [

Xn 1481243 (Cii), x.0 vestigia.1 qo-wi-ro [.2 o-m. a. [

infra mutila

Xn 1522244 ( — ), room 99 ] deest [

Data Set 34

Wr 1329 ( — ), room 98.α sigillum (CMS 1, 317). 20.γ vacat

Wr 1330 (S1331-Ci), room 99.α sigillum (CMS 1, 312). vacat.γ o. -pa

Wr 1333 (S1331-Ci), room 99.α vestigium (?) supra sigillum (CMS 1, 329). mutila.γ o-pa

Data Set 35

243 Found in 1991 in Blegen’s fill over court 94; Shelmer-dine and Bennet 1995, 133.

244 See Melena 1996–1997b, 177–8.245 Such workshops may well have been in the unexcavated

lower town.246 I argued at the Aegean Seminar Workshop on Mycenae-

an Workshops (Cambridge 2000) that there were no workshopswithin the actual palace. Hofstra (2000) reaches a similar con-clusion.

247 Wright 1984; Palaima and Wright 1985; Shelmerdine1987a. The theory is widely cited and used, e.g., Palaima 1988,187; 1995b, 623; Shelmerdine 1997b, 394–5.


getic work on Pylos,248 a new study would in anycase be of value.

Third, there are several implications for Myce-naean bureaucracy. The interpretation of the NEBand the Mycenae West House group as redistribu-tive centers provides at least two examples of suchclearinghouses at Mycenaean palaces. This raisesthe question of whether such installations were stan-dard palatial features.249 The possibility of clearing-houses at other sites should be examined. An obvi-ous candidate for investigation would be the Arse-nal at Knossos.250 Redistributive centers may be pro-posed as a new special type of Mycenaean adminis-trative assemblage. Differences between Pylian andKnossian administration have long been appreci-ated, and indeed it has been suggested that theNEB resembles more a Knossian “department” thana Pylian “deposit.” Redistributive centers were notprecisely “offices” in the sense of being groups ofpersons dedicated to particular united activities orindustries. They were sites for the receipt of goodsand personnel management, and might involvevarious branches of the administration as needarose. It might be possible to further refine Olivi-er’s classifications of Knossian bureaux in this light,with particular attention to interaction betweenadministration and storage.

Fourth, also with reference to bureaucracy, theNEB is one of the major repositories of sealings,both inscribed and uninscribed, in the Mycenaeanworld. Research on Aegean sealing systems has pro-gressed considerably in recent years and reinter-pretation of the NEB as a redistributive center mayhave implications for such work.

Fifth, the interpretation of the NEB as a clearing-house rather than a workshop and the doubt caston the existence of a shrine in room 93 mean thatthe NEB should no longer be cited as evidence forconnections between religion and industry in theMycenaean world. It is true that there are referenc-es to the religious sphere on NEB documents, butthe evidence must be seen in the context of the

whole Linear B assemblage at Pylos: 16% of the NEBdocuments mention a religious figure of some sort.The figure for tablets from the palace as a whole is17%. Thus, NEB documents have no religious as-sociation beyond what is typical at Pylos. To someextent, certain elements of the religious spherewere tied up with the overall economy, and LinearB references to them are thus not infrequent. Thereis nothing special or unusual that connects the NEBdocuments, or the building itself, with religion.Suggestions about a particular link between Myce-naean shrines and workshops should be re-exam-ined in this light.

fitzwilliam collegecambridge cb3 0dgunited kingdom

Appendix

Two documents that may originate from the NEBappear in PoN 4, but have not been fully published.It would be inappropriate to comment on themhere, but I am grateful to J.L. Melena for permis-sion to include the texts. It should be understoodthat the transcriptions are subject to revision.

The text of Un 1482 (data set 36) is from PoN 4,in progress. An initial transcription was providedby E.L. Bennett in AR 1995–1996, 19.

Xa 1577 (data set 37) also appears in PoN 4.

248 E.g., Davis 1998; Nelson and Cooper 1998; Shelmerdine1997a; Davis and Bennet 1999; and see ns. 2 and 51 supra.

249 Shelmerdine (1997b, 389) calls the Room of the OfTablets at Thebes a “clearinghouse” as well. I fully support herview that it was a storeroom through which wool passed, ratherthan an archive, but I would prefer to keep the term “clearing-house” for places that dealt with a wide variety of goods, per-

sonnel, and other administrative activities. A processing orredistributive center is not quite the same thing as a simplestoreroom. I would rather compare the Thebes example withstorerooms such as room 23 or room 32 at Pylos.

250 As J. Killen first pointed out to me; see now Flouda 2000,231. See also Hiller 1992, esp. 311–4.

Un 1482 ( — ).1 deest.2 ke-ra-e-we *1.8.9. [.3 ka-tu-re-wi-ja 4 [[ ]] ta-r. a. -[.4 de-mi-ni-ja , a-ke-re-wi-ja [

Data Set 36

Xa 1577 ( — )] vacat

Data Set 37


Works Cited

Aravantinos, V. 1984. “The Use of Sealings in the Admin-istration of Mycenaean Palaces.” In Pylos Comes Alive:Industry and Administration in a Mycenaean Palace, ASymposium of the NY Society of the Archaeological Instituteof America and Fordham University in Memory of ClaireveGrandjouan, May 4–5, 1984, edited by C.W. Shelmer-dine and T.G. Palaima, 41–8. New York: Fordham Uni-versity.

———. 1990. “The Mycenaean Inscribed Sealings fromThebes: Problems of Content and Function.” In Ae-gean Seals, Sealings, and Administration: Proceedings ofthe N.E. Dickson Conference of the Program in Aegean Scriptsand Prehistory of the Department of Classics, University ofTexas at Austin, January 11–13, 1989, edited by T.G.Palaima, 149–74. Aegaeum 5. Liège: Université de Liège.

Aura Jorro, F. 1985. Diccionario Micénico. Vol. 1, Dicciona-rio Griego-Español: Anejo I, edited by F.R. Adrados.Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investgaciones Cientí-ficas. (1999 Reprint.)

———. 1993. Diccionario Micénico. Vol. 2, Diccionario Gr-iego-Español: Anejo II, edited by F.R. Adrados. Madrid:Consejo Superior de Investgaciones Científicas.

Bennet, J. 1984. “Text and Context: Levels of Approachto the Integration of Archaeological and Textual Datain the Late Bronze Age Aegean.” Archaeological Reviewfrom Cambridge 3:63–75.

———. 1988. “Approaches to the Problem of Combin-ing Linear B Textual Data and Archaeological Datain the Late Bronze Age Aegean.” In Problems in GreekPrehistory: Papers Presented at the Centenary Conference ofthe British School of Archaeology at Athens, Manchester, April1986, edited by E.B. French and K.A. Wardle, 509–18.Bristol: Bristol Classical.

———. 1995. “Space through Time: Diachronic Per-spectives on the Spatial Organization of the PylianState.” In Politeia: Society and State in the Aegean BronzeAge, Proceedings of the 5th International Aegean Conference/ 5e Rencontre égéenne internationale, University of Heidel-berg, Archäologisches Institut, 10–13 April 1994, editedby R. Laffineur and W.-D. Niemeier, 587–602. Aegae-um 12. Liège: Université de Liège and University ofTexas at Austin Program in Aegean Scripts and Pre-history.

Bennett, E.L. 1992. “A Selection of Pylos Tablet Texts.”In Mykenaïka. Actes du IXe Colloque international sur lestextes mycéniens et égéens organisé par le Centre de l’AntiquitéGrecque et Romaine de la Fondation Hellénique des Recher-ches Scientifique et l’École française d’Athènes (Athènes, 2–6octobre 1990), edited by J.-P. Olivier, 103–28. BCH Sup-pl. 25. Paris: de Boccard.

Bennett, E.L., Jr., and J.-P. Olivier. 1973. The Pylos TabletsTranscribed. Pt. 1, Texts and Notes. Incunabula Graeca51. Rome: Edizioni dell’Ateneo.

———. 1976. The Pylos Tablets Transcribed. Pt. 2, Hands,Concordances, Indices. Incunabula Graeca 59. Rome:Edizioni dell’Ateneo.

Bennett, E.L., Jr., J.L. Melena, J.-P. Olivier, T.G. Palaima,and R. Palmer. Forthcoming. The Palace of Nestor inWestern Messenia. Vol. 4, The Inscribed Documents. Pub-lished for the University of Cincinnati by Texas Uni-versity Press.

Blegen, C.W. 1953. “The Palace of Nestor Excavationsat Pylos 1952.” AJA 57:59–64.

———. 1958. “The Palace of Nestor Excavations of 1957,Part 1.” AJA 62:175–81.


Blegen, C.W., and M. Rawson. 1966. The Palace of Nestorat Pylos in Western Messenia. Vol. 1, The Buildings andTheir Contents, pt. 1, Text; pt. 2, Illustrations. Princeton:Princeton University Press.

———. 1967. A Guide to the Palace of Nestor. Excavationsof the University of Cincinnati Guide Book No. 1.Third printing with corrections. Lunenburg, Vt.:Stinehour.

Blegen, C.W., M. Rawson, W. Taylour, and W.P. Dono-van. 1973. The Palace of Nestor at Pylos in Western Messe-nia. Vol. 3, Acropolis and Lower Town: Tholoi and GraveCircle, Chamber Tombs: Discoveries Outside the Citadel. Prin-ceton: Princeton University Press.

Caskey, M.E. 1981. “Agia Irini, Kea: The Terracotta Stat-ues and the Cult in the Temple.” In Sanctuaries andCults in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the FirstInternational Symposium at the Swedish Institute in Ath-ens, 12–13 May 1980, edited by R. Hägg and N. Mari-natos, 127–35. Stockholm: Paul Åströms.

Chadwick, J. 1958. “The Mycenaean Filing System.” BICS5:1–5.

———. 1964. “Pylos Tablet Un 1322.” In Mycenaean Stud-ies: Proceedings of the Third International Colloquium forMyceanaean Studies held at ‘Wingspread’, 4–8 September1961, edited by E.L. Bennett, 19–26. Madison: Uni-versity of Wisconsin Press.

———. 1968. “The Organization of the Mycenaean Ar-chives.” In Studia Mycenaea: Proceedings of the Mycenae-an Symposium, Brno, April 1966, edited by A. Bartoněk,11–21. Brno: Universita J.E. Purkyne.

———. 1975. “Who Was E-ke-ra2-wo?” In Le monde grec:Pensée, littérature, histoire, documents. Hommages à ClairePréaux, edited by J. Bingen, G. Cambier, and G. Nacht-ergael, 450–3. Brussels: Éditions de l’Université deBruxelles.

———. 1976. The Mycenaean World. Cambridge: Cam-bridge University Press.

———. 1985. “What Do We Know about MycenaeanReligion?” In Linear B: A 1984 Survey, edited by A.Morpurgo-Davies and Y. Duhoux, 191–202. Louvain-le-Neuve: Cabay.

———. 1987. “The Muster of the Pylian Fleet.” In Trac-tata Mycenaea: Proceedings of the Eighth International Col-loquium on Mycenaean Studies, held in Ohrid, 15–20 Sep-tember 1985, edited by P.Hr. Ilievski and Lj. Crepajac,75–84. Skopje: Macedonian Academy of Sciences andArts.

———. 1988. “The Women of Pylos.” In Texts, Tabletsand Scribes: Studies in Mycenaean Epigraphy Offered toEmmett L. Bennett, Jr., edited by J.-P. Olivier and T.G.Palaima, 43–96. Minos Suppl. 10. Salamanca: Univer-sity of Salamanca.

Davis, J., ed. 1998. Sandy Pylos: An Archaeological Historyfrom Nestor to Navarino. Austin: University of TexasPress.

Davis, J., and J. Bennet. 1999. “Making Mycenaeans:Warfare, Territorial Expansion, and Representationsof the Other in the Pylian Kingdom.” In Polemos: Lecontexte guerrier en Égeé à l’âge du bronze, actes de la 7e

Rencontre égéenne internationale, Université de Liège, 14–17 avril 1998, edited by R. Laffineur, 105–20. Aegaeum


19. Liège: Université de Liège and University of Texasat Austin Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory.

de Fidio, P. 1982. “Fiscalitá, redistribuzione, equivalen-ze: per una discussione sull’economia micenea.”SMEA 23:83–136.

Driessen, J. 1994–1995. “Data Storage for Reference andPrediction at the Dawn of Civilization? A Review Arti-cle with Some Observations on Archives Before Writ-ing.” Minos 29–30:239–56.

———. 1999. “The Northern Entrance Passage at Knos-sos: Some Preliminary Observations on Its PotentialRole as ‘Central Archives’.” In Floreant Studia Myce-naea: Akten des X Internationalen Mykenologischen Collo-quiums in Saltzburg vom 1.–5. Mai 1995, edited by S.Deger-Jalkotzy, S. Hiller, and O. Panagl, 205–26. Vien-na: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wis-senschaften.

———. 2000. The Scribes of the Room of the Chariot Tablets atKnossos: Interdisciplinary Approach to the Study of a Lin-ear B Deposit. Minos Suppl. 15. Salamanca: Universityof Salamanca.

Duhoux, Y. 1976. Aspects du vocabulaire économique my-cénien: cadastre, artisanat, fiscalité. Amsterdam: A.M.Hakkert.

Evely, D. 1984. “The Other Finds of Stone, Clay, Ivory,Faience, Lead, etc.” In The Minoan Unexplored Man-sion at Knossos, edited by M. Popham, 223–60. BritishSchool of Archaeology at Athens. Oxford: Thamesand Hudson.

———. 1988. “Minoan Craftsmen: Problems of Recog-nition and Definition.” In Problems in Greek Prehistory:Papers Presented at the Centenary Conference of the BritishSchool of Archaeology at Athens, Manchester, April 1986,edited by E.D. French and K.A. Wardle, 397–416. Bris-tol: Bristol Classical.

———. 1992. “Towards an Elucidation of the Ivory-Work-er’s Tool-Kit in Neopalatial Crete.” In Ivory in Greeceand the Eastern Mediterranean from the Bronze Age to theHellenistic Period, edited by L. Fitton, 7–16. British Mu-seum Occasional Paper 85. London: British Museum.

———. 1993. Minoan Crafts: Tools and Technique. SIMA92.1. Göteborg: Paul Åströms.

Flouda, G. 2000. “Inscribed Pylian Nodules: Their Usein the Administration of the Storerooms of the PylianPalace.” SMEA 42:213–45.

French, E. 1981. “Cult Places at Mycenae.” In Sanctuariesand Cults in the Aegean Bronze Age, edited by R. Häggand N. Marinatos, 41–8. Stockholm: Paul Åströms.

Godart, L. 1999. “Les sacrifices d’animaux dans les textesmycéniens.” In Floreant Studia Mycenaea: Akten des XInternationalen Mykenologischen Colloquiums in Saltzburgvom 1.–5. Mai 1995, edited by S. Deger-Jalkotzy, S.Hiller, and O. Panagl, 249–56. Vienna: Verlag derÖsterreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften.

Hägg, R. 1992. “Sanctuaries and Workshops in the BronzeAge Aegean.” In Economics of Cult in the Ancient GreekWorld: Proceedings of the Uppsala Symposium 1990, editedby T. Linders and B. Alroth, 29–32. Boreas. UppsalaStudies in Ancient Mediterranean and Near EasternCivilizations 21. Uppsala: University of Uppsala.

Hägg, R., and N. Marinatos. 1981. “Conclusions andProspects.” In Sanctuaries and Cults in the Aegean BronzeAge, edited by R. Hägg and N. Marinatos, 213–7. Stock-holm: Paul Åströms.

Halstead, P. 1995. “Late Bronze Age Grain Crops and

Linear B Ideograms *65, *120, and *121.” ABSA90:229–34.

Heltzer, M. 1976. The Rural Community in Ancient Ugarit.Wiesbaden: Reichert.

Hiller, S. 1979. “ka-ko na-wi-jo: Notes on Interdependencesof Temples and Bronze in the Aegean Bronze Age.”In Colloquium Mycenaeum, actes du sixième Colloque inter-national sur les textes mycéniens et égéens tenu à Chau-mont-sur-Neuchâtel du 7 au 13 septembre 1975, edited byE. Risch and H. Mühlestein, 189–95. Neuchâtel-Genève: Université de Neuchâtel.

———. 1982. “Tempelwirtschaft im mykenischen Griech-enland.” Archive für Orientforschung 19:94–104.

———. 1992. “The ‘Corridor of the Sword Tablets’ andthe ‘Arsenal’: The Evidence of the Linear B Tablets.”In Mykenaïka, actes du IXe Colloque international sur lestextes mycéniens et égéens organisé par le Centre de l’AntiquitéGrecque et Romaine de la Fondation Hellénique des Recher-ches Scientifique et l’École française d’Athènes (Athènes, 2–6octobre 1990), edited by J.P. Olivier, 303–14. BCH Suppl.25. Paris: de Boccard.

Hofstra, S.U. 2000. “Small Things Considered: The Findsfrom LH IIIB Pylos in Context.” Ph.D. diss., Universityof Texas at Austin.

Janko, R. 1981. “Herbal Remedies at Pylos.” Minos 17:30–4.Jasink, A.M. 1984. “Il ‘laboratoio NE’ del palazzo di Pilo.”

Kadmos 23:11–37.———. 1990–1991. “Funzionarie lavoranti nel palazzo

di Pilo.” Minos 25–26:203–43.Karageorgis, V. 1976. Kition: Mycenaean and Phoenician

Discoveries in Cyprus. London: Thames and Hudson.Killen, J.T. 1979. “The Knossos Ld(1) Tablets.” In Collo-

quium Mycenaeum, actes du sixième Colloque internation-al sur les textes mycéniens et égéens tenu à Chaumont-sur-Neuchâtel du 7 au 13 septembre 1975, edited by E. Rischand H. Mühlestein, 151–81. Geneva: Université deNeuchâtel.

———. 1981. “Some Puzzles in a Mycenae PersonnelRecord.” Ziva Antika 31:37–45.

———. 1984. “Last Year’s Debts on the Ma Tablets.”SMEA 25:173–88.

———. 1987. “Notes on the Knossos Tablets.” In Studiesin Mycenaean and Classical Greek Presented to John Chad-wick, edited by J.T. Killen, J.L. Melena, and J.-P. Oliv-ier, 319–32. Minos 20–22. Salamanca: University ofSalamanca.

———. 1992. “Observations on the Thebes Sealings.” InMykenaïka, actes du IXe Colloque international sur les textesmycéniens et égéens organisé par le Centre de l’AntiquitéGrecque et Romaine de la Fondation Hellénique des Recher-ches Scientifique et l’École française d’Athènes (Athènes, 2–6octobre 1990), edited by J.P. Olivier, 365–80. BCH Suppl.25. Paris: de Boccard.

———. 1993. “Records of Sheep and Goats at Mycenae,Pylos, and Knossos.” In Domestic Animals of Mesopota-mia, Part 1. Bulletin on Sumerian Agriculture 8:209–17.

———. 1994. “Thebes Sealings, Knossos Tablets, andMycenaean State Banquets.” BICS 39:67–84.

———. 1995. “Some Further Thoughts on ‘Collectors’.”In Politeia: Society and State in the Aegean Bronze Age,Proceedings of the 5th International Aegean Conference/5e

Rencontre égéenne internationale, University of Heidelberg,Archäologisches Institut, 10–23 April 1994, edited by R.Laffineur and W.-D. Niemeier, 213–26. Aegaeum 12.Liège: Université de Liège and University of Texas at


Austin Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory.———. 1999a. “Mycenaean o-pa.” In Floreant Studia Myce-

naea: Akten des X Internationalen Mykenologischen Collo-quiums in Saltzburg vom 1.–5. Mai 1995, edited by S.Deger-Jalkotzy, S. Hiller, and O. Panagl, 325–42. Vien-na: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wis-senschaften.

———. 1999b. “New Readings and Interpretations in thePylos Tablets.” In Floreant Studia Mycenaea: Akten des XInternationalen Mykenologischen Colloquiums in Saltzburgvom 1.–5. Mai 1995, edited by S. Deger-Jalkotzy, S. Hill-er, and O. Panagl, 343–54. Vienna: Verlag der Österre-ichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften.

———. 2000. “Religion at Pylos: The Evidence of the FnTablets.” JPR 14:31–2.

———. 2001. “The Fn Series at Pylos.” In Potnia: Deitiesand Religion in the Aegean Bronze Age, edited by R.Laffineur and R. Hägg, 435–43. Aegaeum 22. Liège:Université de Liège and University of Texas at AustinProgram in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory.

Knapp, A.B. 1986. Copper Production and Divine Protec-tion: Archaeology, Ideology, and Social Complexity in BronzeAge Cyprus. SIMA 42. Göteborg: Paul Åströms.

Lang, M.L. 1958. “The Palace of Nestor Excavations of1957, Part 2.” AJA 62:181–91.



Lejeune, M. 1958. Mémoires de philologie mycénienne:Première série (1955–1957). Paris: Centre National de laRecherche Scientifique.

———. 1971. Mémoires de philologie mycénienne: Deuxièmesérie (1958–1963). Rome: Edizioni dell’ateneo.

Lindgren, M. 1973. The People of Pylos: Prosographical andMethodological Studies in the Pylos Archives. Boreas. Upp-sala Studies in Ancient Mediterranean and Near East-ern Civilisations 3:1. Uppsala: University of Uppsala.

Lupack, S. 1999. “Palaces, Sanctuaries, and Workshops:The Role of the Religious Sector in Mycenaean Econ-omies.” In Rethinking Mycenaean Palaces: New Interpre-tations of an Old Idea, edited by M. Galaty and W. Par-kinson, 194–217. Los Angeles: University of Californiaat Los Angeles, Institute of Archaeology Press.

———. 2002. “The Role of the Religious Sector in theEconomy of Late Bronze Age Mycenaean Greece.”Ph.d. diss., University of Texas, Austin.

Melena, J.L. 1972. “On the Knossos Mc Tablets.” Minos13:29–54.

———. 1983. “Further Thoughts on Mycenaean o-pa.”In Res Mycenaeae: Akten des VII. Internationalen Mykenol-ogischen Colloquiums in Nürnburg vom 6.–10. April 1981,edited by A. Heubeck and G. Neumann, 258–86. Göt-tingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht.

———. 1987a. “On the Linear B Ideogrammatic Syl-labogram ZE.” In Studies in Mycenaean and ClassicalGreek Presented to John Chadwick, edited by J.T. Killen,J.L. Melena, and J.-P. Olivier, 389–458. Salamanca:University of Salamanca.

———. 1987b. “Notas de filología micénica 2: Qué seasienta en PY Un 1320 [+] 1442?” In Athlon: Satura Gram-matica in Honorem F.R. Adrados 2. Madrid: Gredos.

———. 1992–1993a. “167 Joins of Fragments in the Lin-ear B Tablets from Pylos.” Minos 27–28:71–82.

———. 1992–1993b. “244 Joins and Quasi-Joins of Frag-

ments in the Linear B Tablets from Pylos.” Minos 27–28:307–24.

———. 1994–1995a. “28 Joins and Quasi-Joins of Frag-ments from the Linear B Tablets from Pylos.” Minos29–30:95–100.

———. 1994–1995b. “133 Joins and Quasi-Joins of Frag-ments from the Linear B Tablets from Pylos.” Minos29–30:271–87.

———. 1996–1997a. “40 Joins and Quasi-joins of Frag-ments in the Linear B Tablets from Pylos.” Minos 31–32:159–70.

———. 1996–1997b. “13 Joins and Quasi-joins of Frag-ments in the Linear B Tablets from Pylos.” Minos 31–32:171–8.

———. 2000–2001. “63 Joins and Quasi-Joins of Frag-ments from the Linear B Tablets from Pylos.” Minos35:371–80.

———. Forthcoming. “On the Structure of the Myce-naean Linear B Syllabary I: The Untranslated Syllabo-grams. Preliminary Report.” In Proceedings of the 11thMycenological Colloquium at the University of Austin, Tex-as, May 8–12, 2000, edited by T.G. Palaima and K.Pluta. Hesperia Suppl.

Melena, J.L., and J.-P. Olivier. 1991. TITHEMY: The Tab-lets and Nodules in Linear B from Tiryns, Thebes, andMycenae. Minos Suppl. 12. Salamanca: University ofSalamanca.

Milani, C. 1958. “Sur les textes de Pylos 1957.” Athenaeum46:399–414.

Moore, A.D., and W.D. Taylour. 1999. Well Built Mycenae.Fascicule 10, The Temple Complex. Oxford: Oxbow.

Mylonas, G.E 1972. Τ Θρησκευτικν Κντρν τν Μυκηνν—The Cult Centre of Mycenae. Πραγµατεαι της ΑκαδηµαςΑθηνν 33. Athens: Publications of the Academy ofAthens.

Nelson, M.C., and F.A. Cooper. 1998. Abstract, “Minne-sota Archaeological Researches at Pylos, 1996–1997Seasons.” AJA 102:399–400.

Olivier, J.-P. 1960. À propos d’une “liste” de desservants desanctuaire dans les documents en linéaire B de Pylos. Brus-sels: Presses universitaires.

———. 1967. Les scribes de Cnossos: Essai de classement desarchives d’un palais mycénien. Incunabula Graeca 17.Rome: Edizioni dell’ateneo.

———. 1974. “Une loi fiscale mycénienne.” BCH 98:23–35.

———. 1984. “Administrations at Knossos and Pylos:What Differences.” In Pylos Comes Alive: Industry andAdministration in a Mycenaean Palace, A Symposium ofthe NY Society of the Archaeological Institute of America andFordham University in Memory of Claireve Grandjouan,4–5 May 1984, edited by C.W. Shelmerdine and T.G.Palaima, 11–8. New York: Fordham University.

———. 1997. “Die beschrifteten Tonplomben.” In DieTonplomben aus dem Nestorpalast von Pylos, edited by I.Pini, 70–81. Mainz: Akademie der Wissenschaften undder Literatur.

Palaima, T.G. 1980. “Observations on Pylian Epigraphy.”SMEA 21:193–204.

———. 1984. “Scribal Organization and Palatial Activi-ty.” In Pylos Comes Alive: Industry and Administration ina Mycenaean Palace, A Symposium of the NY Society of theArchaeological Institute of America and Fordham Universi-ty in Memory of Claireve Grandjouan, 4–5 May 1984,edited by C.W. Shelmerdine and T.G. Palaima, 31–40.


New York: Fordham University.———. 1987. “Mycenaean Seals and Sealings in Their

Economic and Administrative Contexts.” In TractataMycenaea: Proceedings of the Eighth International Collo-quium on Mycenaean Studies, Held in Ohrid, 15–20 Sep-tember 1985, edited by P.Hr. Ilievski and Lj. Crepajac,249–66. Skopje: Macedonian Academy of Sciencesand Arts.

———. 1988. The Scribes of Pylos. Incunabula Graeca 87.Rome: Edizioni dell’ateneo.

———. 1992. “Mycenaean Scribal Aesthetics.” InΕΙΚΩΝ: Aegean Bronze Age Iconography, Shaping a Meth-odology. Proceedings of the 4th International Aegean Con-ference/4e Rencontre égéenne internationale, University ofTasmania, Hobart, Australia, 6–9 April 1992, edited byR. Laffineur and J.L. Crowley, 63–76. Aegaeum 8. Liège:Université de Liège.

———. 1995a. “The Nature of the Mycenaean Wanax :Non-Indo-European Origins and Priestly Functions.”In The Role of the Ruler in the Prehistoric Aegean: Proceed-ings of a Panel Discussion presented at the Annual Meetingof the Archaeological Institute of America, New Orleans, Lou-isiana, 28 December 1992, with Additions, edited by P.Rehak, 119–39. Aegaeum 11. Liège: Université de Liège.

———. 1995b. “The Last Days of the Pylos Polity.” InPoliteia: Society and State in the Aegean Bronze Age. Pro-ceedings of the 5th International Aegean Conference/5e Ren-contre égéenne internationale, University of Heidelberg,Archäeologisches Institut 10–13 April 1994, edited by R.Laffineur and W.-D. Niemeier, 623–34. Aegaeum 12.Liège: Université de Liège and University of Texas atAustin Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory.

———. 1996a. “‘Contiguities’ in the Linear B Tabletsfrom Pylos.” In Atti e memorie del secondo congresso inter-nazionale di micenologia, Roma-Napoli, 14–20 ottobre 1991,edited by E. de Miro, L. Godart, and A. Sacconi, 379–96. Rome: Gruppo Editoriale Internazionale.

———. 1996b. “Sealings as Links in an AdministrativeChain.” In Administration in Ancient Societies: Acts of Ses-sion 218 of the 13th International Congress of Anthropolog-ical and Ethnological Sciences, Mexico City 29 July–5 Au-gust 1993, edited by P. Ferioli, E. Fiandra, and G.G.Fissore, 37–66. Turin: Archivi di Stato.

———. 2000a. “The Transactional Vocabulary of Myce-naean Sealings and the Mycenaean AdministrativeProcess.” In Administrative Documents in the Aegean andTheir Near Eastern Counterparts: Proceedings of the Inter-national Colloquium, Naples, 29 February–2 March 1996,edited by M. Perna, 261–76. Turin: Ministero per ibeni Culturali e Ambientali Ufficio Centrale per i beniArchivistici.

———. 2000b. “The Palaeography of Mycenaean In-scribed Sealings from Thebes and Pylos: Their Placewithin the Mycenaean Administrative System andTheir Links with the Extra-Palatial Sphere.” In Mi-noisch-mykenische Glyptik: Stil, Ikonographi, Funktion, V.Internationales Siegel-Symposium. Marburg. 23.–25. Sep-tember 1999, edited by W. Miller, 219–38. CMS Beiheft 6.Berlin: Gebr. Mann.

———. Forthcoming. “‘Archives’ and ‘Scribes’ and In-formation Hierarchy in Mycenaean Greek Linear BRecords.” In Archives and Archival Tradition: Concepts ofRecord-Keeping in the Ancient World, edited by A. Bow-man and M. Brosius. Papers of the Workshop held atthe Centre for the Study of Ancient Documents,

Oxford University, 17–19 September 2000.Palaima, T.G., and J.C. Wright. 1985. “Ins and Outs of

the Archives Rooms at Pylos.” AJA 89:251–62.Palmer, L.R. 1963. The Interpretation of Mycenaean Greek

Texts. Oxford: Oxford University Press.Palmer, R. 1989. “Subsistence Rations at Pylos and Knos-

sos.” Minos 24:89–124.———. 1992. “Wheat and Barley in Mycenaean Soci-

ety.” In Mykenaïka. Actes du IXe Colloque international surles textes mycéniens et égéens organisé par le Centre del’Antiquité Grecque et Romaine de la Fondation Helléniquedes Recherches Scientifiques et l’École française d’Athènes(Athènes, 2–6 Octobre 1990), edited by J.-P. Olivier, 475–98. BCH Suppl. 25. Paris: de Boccard.

———. 1994. Wine in the Mycenaean Palace Economy. Ae-gaeum 10. Université de Liège and University of Texasat Austin Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory.

Pini, I. 1997. Die Tonplomben aus dem Nestorpalast von Py-los. Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur.Mainz: Philipp von Zabern.

Piteros, Chr., J.-P. Olivier, and J.L. Melena. 1990. “Lesinscriptions en linéaire B des nodules de Thèbes(1982): la fouille, les documents, les possibilitésd’interprétation.” BCH 144:103–84.

Platon, N. 1983. “The Minoan Palaces: Centres of Orga-nization of a Theocratic, Social, and Political System.”In Minoan Society: Proceedings of the Cambridge Colloquium1981, edited by O. Krzyszkowska and L. Nixon, 273–6.Bristol: Bristol Classical.

Poursat, J.C. 1983. “Ateliers et sanctuaires à Malia: Nou-velles données sur l’organisation sociale à l’époquedes premiers palais.” In Minoan Society: Proceedings of theCambridge Colloquium 1981, edited by O. Krzyszkowskaand L. Nixon, 277–81. Bristol: Bristol Classical.

Renfrew, C. 1981. “The Sanctuary at Phylakopi.” In Sanc-tuaries and Cults in the Aegean Bronze Age: Proceedings ofthe First International Symposium at the Swedish Institutein Athens, 12–13 May 1980, edited by R. Hägg and N.Marinatos, 67–79. Stockholm: Paul Åströms.

———. 1985. The Archaeology of Cult: The Sanctuary ofPhylakopi. London: British School of Archaeology atAthens.

Ruijgh, C.J. 1966. “Observations sur la tablette Ub 1318de Pylos.” Lingua 16:130–52.

Ruipérez, M.S., and J.L. Melena. 1990. Los Griegos Mice-nicos. Biblioteca Historia 16. Madrid: Historia.

Rutkowski, B. 1986. The Cult Places of the Aegean. NewHaven and London: Yale University Press.

Shelmerdine, C.W. 1973. “The Ma Tablets Reconsid-ered.” AJA 77:261–75.

———. 1985. The Perfume Industry of Mycenaean Pylos.SIMA 34. Göteborg: Paul Åströms.

———. 1987a. “Architectural Change and EconomicDecline at Pylos.” In Studies in Mycenaean and ClassicalGreek Presented to John Chadwick, edited by J.T. Killen,J.L. Melena, and J.-P. Olivier, 557–68. Minos 20–22.Salamanca: University of Salamanca.

———. 1987b. “Industrial Activity at Pylos.” In TractataMycenaea: Proceedings of the Eighth International Collo-quium on Mycenaean Studies, Held in Ohrid, 15–20 Sep-tember 1985, edited by P.Hr. Ilievski and Lj. Crepajac,333–42. Skopje: Macedonian Academy of Sciencesand Arts.

———. 1988. “Scribal Organization and AdministrativeProcedures.” In Texts, Tablets, and Scribes: Studies in


Mycenaean Epigraphy and Economy Offered to Emmett L.Bennett, Jr., edited by J.-P. Olivier and T.G. Palaima,343–84. Minos Suppl. 10. Salamanca: University ofSalamanca.

———. 1989. “Mycenaean Taxation.” In Studia Myce-naea (1988): Ziva Antika. Monographies 7, edited byT.G. Palaima, C.W. Shelmerdine, and P.Hr Ilievski,125–48. Skopje: Antiquité Vivante.

———. 1997a. “Review of Aegean Prehistory VI: ThePalatial Bronze Age of the Southern and CentralGreek Mainland.” AJA 101:537–85.

———. 1997b. “Workshops and Record Keeping in theMycenaean World.” In TEXNH: Craftsmen, Craftswom-en, and Craftsmanship in the Aegean Bronze Age, Proceed-ings of the 6th International Aegean Conference, Philadel-phia, Temple University, 18–21 April 1996, edited by R.Laffineur and P.P. Betencourt, 387–97. Aegaeum 16.Liège: University of Liège and University of Texas atAustin Program in Aegean Scripts and Prehistory.

———. 1998–1999. “The Southwestern Department atPylos.” In A-NA-QO-TA: Studies Presented to J.T. Killen,edited by J. Bennet and J. Driessen, 309–37. Minos 33–34. Salamanca: University of Salamanca.

———. 1999. “A Comparative Look at MycenaeanAdministration(s).” In Floreant Studia Mycenaea: Aktendes X. Internationalen Mykenologischen Colloquiums inSaltzburg vom 1.–5. Mai 1995, edited by S. Deger-Jalkotzy, S. Hiller, and O. Panagl, 555–76. Vienna:Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissen-schaften.

Shelmerdine, C.W., and J. Bennet. 1995. “Two New Lin-ear B Documents from Bronze Age Pylos.” Kadmos34:123–36.

Smith, J. 1991. Abstract, “Bronzesmiths of Pylos: TheirPlace in Mycenaean Economy and Industry.” AJA95:316.

———. 1992–1993. “The Pylos Jn Series.” Minos 27–28:167–259.

Taylour, W.D. 1981. Well Built Mycenae. Fascicule 1, TheExcavations, edited by W.D. Taylour, K.A. Wardle, andE.B. French. Warminster: Aris & Phillips.

———. 1983. The Mycenaeans. Rev. ed. London: Thames

and Hudson.Tegyey, I. 1984. “The Northeast Workshop at Pylos.” In

Pylos Comes Alive: Industry and Administration in a Myce-naean Palace, A Symposium of the NY Society of the Archae-ological Institute of America and Fordham University inMemory of Claireve Grandjouan, 4–5 May 1984, editedby C.W. Shelmerdine and T.G. Palaima, 65–79. NewYork: Fordham University.

———. 1987. “Scribes and Archives at Knossos and Py-los: A Comparison.” In Tractata Mycenaea: Proceedingsof the Eighth International Colloquium on Mycenaean Stud-ies, Held in Ohrid, 15–20 September 1985, edited by P.Hr.Ilievski and Lj. Crepajac, 357–66. Skopje: MacedonianAcademy of Sciences and Arts.

Tournavitou, I. 1988. “Towards an Identification of aWorkshop Space.” In Problems in Greek Prehistory: Pa-pers Presented at the Centenary Conference of the BritishSchool of Archaeology at Athens, Manchester, April 1986,edited by E.D. French and K.A. Wardle, 447–67. Bris-tol: Bristol Classical.

———. 1995. The “Ivory Houses” at Mycenae. BSA Suppl.24. London: British School at Athens.

Ventris, M., and J. Chadwick. 1973. Documents in Myce-naean Greek. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-sity Press.

Wace, A.J.B., and E.B. Wace. 1958. “Introduction.” InThe Mycenae Tablets III, edited by E.L. Bennett, 3–44.Transactions of the American Philosophical Society48.1, Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society.

Whittaker, H. 1997. Mycenaean Cult Buildings: A Study ofTheir Architecture and Function in the Context of the Ae-gean and the Eastern Mediterranean. Bergen: The Nor-wegian Institute at Athens.

Wright, J.C. 1984. “Changes in Form and Function ofthe Palace at Pylos.” In Pylos Comes Alive: Industry andAdministration in a Mycenaean Palace, A Symposium ofthe NY Society of the Archaeological Institute of America andFordham University in Memory of Claireve Grandjouan,4–5 May 1984, edited by C.W. Shelmerdine and T.G.Palaima, 19–29. New York: Fordham University.

Wyatt, W.F. 1962. “The Ma Tablets from Pylos.” AJA66:21–41.


The Location of Alashiya:New Evidence from Petrographic Investigation

of Alashiyan Tablets from El-Amarna and UgaritYUVAL GOREN, SHLOMO BUNIMOVITZ, ISRAEL FINKELSTEIN, AND NADAV NA’AMAN

AbstractAncient Near Eastern archives of cuneiform texts con-

tain tablets whose origin is unknown. Letters often donot contain the name or address of the sender. More-over, the locations of some ancient Near Eastern coun-tries and cities have not yet been clearly established.Hence we perform a research program that intends to fillthis gap through a systematic provenance study of theAmarna letters and other Near Eastern texts using petro-graphic and geochemical methods. So far, over 300 tab-lets have been analyzed. This paper presents the prov-enance of the Alashiya letters from Amarna and Ugarit aswell as an assemblage of Cypro-Minoan texts from Cyprus.Petrographic and chemical examinations indicate thatthe Amarna letters from Alashiya originate from the areaon the margin of the Troodos Mountains in Cyprus. Vari-ous lines of evidence make it clear that the raw materialwas collected by the scribes in their immediate vicinityand not transported over large distances. Within Cyprus,either Kalavasos-Ayios Dhimitrios or Alassa Paliotaverna/Pano Manadilaris are identified as the source of officialAlashiyan letters. Since the geopolitical configuration ofLate Bronze Age Alashiya is still unclear, the implicationsof our conclusions for this vexed issue are discussed.*

For more than a century researchers have debat-ed the location of the Bronze Age kingdom of Alash-iya, “that old conundrum” as Muhly so aptly dubbedit,1 with diminishing returns.2 The textual evidence,from both Amarna and Ugarit, indicates that dur-ing the 14th and 13th centuries B.C. Alashiya main-tained economic and political contacts with Egyptand north Syria. The documents testify that it pro-duced and exported large amounts of copper. Theyalso indicate that it was an independent state, as its

king was referred to as “brother” in his correspon-dence with the King of Egypt, a designation thatwas used between rulers of equal rank.

Most scholars associate the copper producingland of Alashiya with part or all of Cyprus (fig. 1).This conclusion is supported by an overall inter-pretation of the relevant documents within the his-torical, geopolitical, and archaeological back-ground of the eastern Mediterranean in generaland Cyprus in particular.3 The place of origin ofthe Alashiya tablets was generally identified at En-komi near the eastern coast of the island. A minor-ity view considers the data circumstantial and in-conclusive.4 Scholars advocating the latter view tendto identify Alashiya in either part or all of Cilicia, orpart of northwestern Syria.5

Previous provenance studies have attempted toresolve the question by establishing the origin ofthe Alashiya clay tablets found in Amarna andUgarit. Eight tablets dispatched from Alashiya tothe Egyptian court in the 14th century B.C. werediscovered in Amarna (EA 33–40). An unnamedking of Alashiya sent seven of these letters (EA 33–39) to an unnamed Pharaoh, while the governor ofAlashiya dispatched the eighth letter (EA 40) tohis equal in the Egyptian court. A group of scholarsfrom the Laurence Berkeley Laboratory subjectedtwo of the tablets (EA 34 and EA 35, now in theBritish Museum) to neutron activation analysis(NAA) in order to determine their origin.6 Theresults were compared with Late Bronze Age pot-

* We wish to thank B. Salje and J. Marzahn from the Vordera-siatisches Museum in Berlin, J. Curtis, S. Bowman, C. Walkerand A. Middleton from the British Museum, P.R.S. Moorey fromthe Ashmolean Museum, S. Hadjisavvas and P. Florentzos fromthe Department of Antiquities, Cyprus, A. South from theVasilikos Valley Project, Kalavasos, A. Caubet and B. André-Sal-vini from the Musée du Louvre for the permit to sample mate-rials from their museums or excavations. The ICP analyses andthe micropaleontological identifications were made by theGeological Survey of Israel. This study was supported by theCenter for Collaboration between Natural Sciences and Archae-ology of the Weizmann Institute of Science and the Fund forInternal Researches of the Tel-Aviv University. We thank G.

Constantinou, I. Freestone, L. Grossowitz, S. Hadjisavvas, M.Huges, A. Middleton, N. Porat, I. Segal, A. Shimron, L. Smith,A. South, and S. Vaughan for their useful advice on specifictopics discussed in this article.

1 Muhly 1996, 49.2 For comprehensive and critical discussions of the data and

previous literature, see Merrillees 1987; Knapp 1996a.3 See, e.g., Holmes 1971; Muhly 1972, 1989, 1996; Knapp

1985, 1996a.4 Hellbing 1979; Merrillees 1987.5 See Merrillees 1987 for a review of literature.6 Artzy et al. 1976.

YUVAL GOREN ET AL.234 [AJA 107

tery from different sites in Cyprus and the Levant.The Berkeley team concluded that the two tab-lets, which have similar chemical composition pat-terns, were not made of eastern Cypriot clay andhence were not produced in the vicinity of Enko-mi. Moreover, they are chemically different fromthe clays of Toumba tou Skourou near MorphouBay, Lapithos and other places in the north of Cy-prus, Nitovikla and other sites in the Karpas, andKition, Hala Sultan Tekke, and Amathus on theLarnaca and Akrotiri bays in the south. Certainchemical similarities were found between the twotablets and Mycenaean IIIC1 sherds from KoukliaPalaeopaphos, although an unequivocal identitybetween the tablets and the Kouklia clay couldnot be proved. Artzy and her colleagues also con-cluded that the two tablets are not copies made inEgypt, since they differ from clays used for the pro-duction of New Kingdom pottery in Amarna andelsewhere in the Nile Valley. A later analysis of twoadditional Alashiya tablets (EA 33 and EA 38; nowin the Vorderasiatisches Museum in Berlin) by thesame team showed similar results.7 To sum up, theNAA investigations fell short of determining thelocation of Alashiya.

The present authors attempted to broaden theanalytical basis established by Artzy and her col-leagues by examining four Alashiya letters foundat Amarna (EA 33, 34, 37, and 38)8 and one Alash-iya letter from Ugarit (RS L.1) in the course of awider project of petrographic investigation of the

Amarna tablets. The following research strategieswere used:

1. examination of tablets that were not included inthe previous research, especially EA 37 that, as al-ready noted by Knudtzon,9 was different in its gen-eral fabric and inclusions;

2. examination of clay documents from Late Cypriot(LC) sites in Cyprus, especially Enkomi;

3. analysis of a 13th-century B.C. Alashiya letter fromUgarit;

4. examination of the previously analyzed tablets byother methods, namely petrography and inductivelycoupled plasma spectroscopy (ICP).

methods

Various physical and chemical techniques areemployed for analyzing the composition of ceram-ic artifacts. The former identify the minerals in theclay and temper and define the fabric of the sherdor vessel. The latter use diverse analytical tech-niques to measure the concentrations of the ele-ments in the clay. In analyzing pottery, petrographyis the physical method of choice, whereas NAA isthe most commonly used chemical method. Petro-graphic analysis is particularly effective for examin-ing coarse, poorly fired ceramics, while NAA is gen-erally considered to be more accurate for prove-nance determinations, being fully quantitative andthus more precise. Usually, petrography is appliedto a large number of items, and the results are usedto select samples for further chemical analysis.10

When cuneiform tablets are analyzed, the sampling

Fig. 1. General geological map of Cyprus showing the distribution of theformations and the location of the LBA sites mentioned in the text

7 M. Artzy, pers. comm., see Hellbing 1979, 71, n. 103.8 Permission to examine the letters was granted by the Brit-

ish Museum, the Vorderasiatisches Museum in Berlin, and theMusée du Louvre. EA 35 (British Museum) was not available at

the time of sampling.9 Knudtzon 1915, 1272, n. 2, 1275, n.1, 1276, n. 1, 1294, n.

2, 1298, n. 1.10 Schubert 1986.

THE LOCATION OF ALASHIYA 2352003]

must be nondestructive and only restricted analy-ses can be applied. Consequently, chemical meth-ods often are more appropriate because of thesmaller sample that they require.

Accurate interpretation of provenance data de-pends on the availability of comparative materials. Claytypes used to produce tablets, however, are not neces-sarily the same as those from which vessels are manu-factured. This may sometimes inhibit the use of rou-tine chemical procedures in which a database con-taining the elemental composition of standard pot-tery from known sites is compared with the samplesexamined. Conversely, petrography has the advantageof being independent, since the results can be inter-preted on the basis of detailed and usually availablegeological data. Therefore, petrography has been se-lected as a primary method for the present researchand applied on over 300 tablets. Elemental analysisby inductively coupled plasma atomic emission spec-troscopy and mass spectroscopy (ICP-AES/MS) wasapplied on 120 of these tablets in order to confirmthe petrographic grouping by multivariate elemen-tal plots of 27 major, minor, and trace elements.11

Two new techniques were developed in order toreduce the sample size. First, scattered petrographicanalysis (SPA), a technique in which the clay andthe temper are sampled separately, was applied oncomplete tablets. The tablet is first examined un-der a stereomicroscope to define its texture. A tinyflake of the matrix is chipped from a hidden sur-face using a scalpel, and a representative sample ofthe inclusions is removed as single grains. In thelaboratory, each is impregnated with thin sectionepoxy resin in a vacuum within a plastic mold. Sec-ond, in the more common case of broken tablets,peeling was applied in order to obtain larger sam-ples. In this analysis, a shallow lamina is peeled offthe broken facet of the tablet with a scalpel andimpregnated in a plastic mold to prevent desegre-gation. After curing, the pellets are used for thepreparation of thin sections.

Micropaleontological study of the clay matrix wasalso deployed, using the foraminifera index in orderto identify the age (hence the possible geological for-mation and origin) of the clay. Foraminifera are one ofthe main groups of the unicellular organisms Proto-zoa. Most live in marine environments, while somespecies live in inland and freshwater areas. Marineforaminifera are divided into two main groups: thoseliving in the water mass (planctonic) and those livingon the sea floor (bentonic). The identifications weremade in the Geological Survey of Israel. In many cas-es they either confirmed the petrographic and chem-ical interpretations or narrowed the range of options.

We adopted the widely accepted identificationof Alashiya in Cyprus as a working hypothesis butalso examined other possibilities. We compared themineralogical and chemical data from the tabletswith the geology of Cyprus as well as Cilicia andnorthwest Syria.

resultsThe Alashiya Letters from Amarna

The results of the petrographic study of the tab-lets are summarized below according to an order ofimportance of the petrographic data and not theorder of the EA (serial) numbers.

EA 37 is distinguished to the naked eye by itscolor and appearance from all other Alashiya tab-lets in the study (EA 33, EA 34, and EA 38; and theother Alashiya tables). The fabric is generally red-dish-brown rather than cream whitish-gray. Thereare large inclusions (reaching 3 mm in size) thatdo not appear in other Alashiya tablets, and thetexture is coarser than that of the other Alashiyaletters from Amarna (figs. 2–3).

The petrographic properties of this tablet areentirely different from the other Alashiya tabletsfrom Amarna examined here. It has a more clay-rich matrix with abundant inclusions of weatheredspilitic basalt, limestone, low-grade metamorphicgreywacke, quartz, and flint.12 The other Amarna

11 ICP-AES was performed using a Jobine Yvon JY-48 poly-chromator. This method was used to analyze most of the majorand minor elements (Mg, Al, Si, Ca, Ti, Mn, Fe, P, S) as well assome trace elements (V, Cr, Co, Ni, Cu, Zn, Sr, Y, Ba, Be, La).ICP-MS was used to determine all rare earth elements (Ce, Pr,Nd, Sm, Eu, Tb, Dy, Ho, Tm, Yb, Lu).

12 The matrix of EA 37 is carbonatic, slightly silty, yellowish-tan in plain polarized light (PPL) and contains abundant red-dish spherical bodies that sometimes preserve skeletal struc-tures of columnar plagioclase. These may accord with the fer-ric illite described by Vaughan (1989). These vary in size fromabout 50µm up to 500µm. The origin of these bodies is madeclear by the examination of the inclusions, in which weath-ered spilitic basalt is apparent. These weathered rocks were

probably the origin for their residues in the matrix, in whichremnants of skeletal feldspar crystals can still be seen. There-fore, the matrix of this tablet may be defined as clay contain-ing highly weathered basaltic clasts. The inclusions containrounded fragments of highly weathered spilitic basalt fragmentsincluding skeletal plagioclase laths (sometimes branching)ophitically enclosed by melanocrats that partly or completelyaltered into red clay (fig. 2). These inclusions, exceeding 3mm in size, also include some clasts of better preserved spilite.Additional inclusion types are limestone fragments, rounded,spherical fragment of quartzitic microgranular greywacke (fig.3), tan mudstone with radiolaria microfossils, clinopyroxene,epidote, quartz, and chert. The matrix contains small plancton-ic foraminifers: Hedbergella and Heterohelix, all of Senonian age.


letters (EA 33, 34, and 38) are characterized by marlwith a few calcareous and volcanic rock fragments(fig. 4).13

Comparative Study of Cypro-Minoan Texts fromEnkomi and Kalavasos Ayios Dhimitrios

Two sets of Cypro-Minoan texts on clay from Cy-prus were examined: an assemblage of documentsfrom Enkomi and inscribed clay cylinders fromKalavasos Ayios Dhimitrios.

The Enkomi samples were taken from the fol-lowing items (all but the last in the Cyprus Muse-um in Nicosia): E-1687, a Cypro-Minoan inscribedclay tablet found in Level III A (late 13th–early 12thcentury B.C.);14 H-1885, a Cypro-Minoan inscribedclay tablet found in Level I B (mid late 15th century

B.C.);15 E-1610, a Cypro-Minoan inscribed clay cyl-inder;16 E-1193+Enk. F.E 20.01, two joined frag-ments of a Cypro-Minoan inscribed clay tablet, one(E-1193) found in Level IIIB (12th century B.C.)and published by Dikaios,17 the other (Enk. F.E.20.01) was found by Schaeffer;18 AM 2336, a Cypro-Minoan inscribed clay tablet (now at the Musée duLouvre).

In terms of petrography, the Enkomi documentsare extremely homogeneous.19 The unimodal na-ture of the inclusions, in terms of shape and sort-ing, may be considered to represent alluviated de-trital sediments. These include volcanic and sedi-mentary rocks of varying types. The matrix can begenerally defined as marl. The inclusion depositsmay have been derived from an area containing

Fig. 2. Thin-section of EA 37, showing highly weathered spilite inclusion. Crossed polarizers, bar size:0.2 mm.

13 The matrix of EA 34 is calcareous, pale yellow in PPL,optically active speckled b-fabric, with abundant mica flakes(both muscovite and biotite) as well as fine silt of calcite, quartz,and feldspars (fig. 4). The foraminifers include Globigerina andGloborotalia of Neogene age. The tablets are almost devoid ofinclusions. Few angular grains of dolerite, micritic limestone,quartz, foraminiferous chalk, and occasionally hair appear.

14 Dikaios 1971, 881–91, pl. 317–8.15 Dikaios 1971, 881–91, pl. 314.16 Masson 1971.17 Dikaios 1971, 881–91, pl. 319–20.

18 Karagorghis 1970, 249, fig. 99. For the join, see Michaeli-dou-Nicolaou 1980.

19 They are represented by clay that is light yellowish-tanin PPL, carbonatic and lightly optically oriented in thin sec-tion, slightly silty and stained by orange-brown clay concen-trations and iron-rich (limonitic) bodies. Foraminifers areextremely rare. The inclusion suit is made of a well-sortedpopulation of various minerals and rock fragments, all spher-ical to subangular and usually rounded grains, including quartz,limestone, spilitic basalt, chert, feldspars, serpentine, pyrox-ene, and epidote.


several lithological environments, including igne-ous and marine sedimentary rocks.

The effect of stream transportation may sort ma-terial by mineralogy (specific gravity), resistance tomechanical and chemical weathering, abundancealong the drainage basin, and the flow regime ofthe conduit. The general sphericity of all the in-clusion components, especially the resistant chertand quartz, may indicate a far distance between thebedrock and the depositional area where the in-clusions were collected.

Enkomi is situated in eastern Cyprus, 7 km northof Famagusta. It is located in an area of Quaterna-ry deposits containing gravel, sand, silt, and clay.Sediments now obstruct the nearby stream of thePedhieos River, going by the southern edge of thesite. During the Late Cypriot period, however, itwas most likely still active, functioning as a sailingchannel for boats between the coast and Enkomi,and perhaps even more inland.20 The Pedhieosriver drainage system included the Mesaoria plain,

the southeastern part of the Kyrenia terrain, andthe northeastern slope of the Troodos massif. Be-cause sedimentary rocks cover all the Mesaoria ter-rain, the Pedhieos River is the only possible sup-plier of volcanic rocks and their derived mineralsto the Enkomi area. In conclusion, the composi-tion of the Enkomi documents indicates a mix-ture of marl with well-sorted sand from the nearbychannel of the Pedhieos River.

The samples from Kalavasos Ayios Dhimitrios in-cluded the following Cypro-Minoan inscribed cyl-inders: K-AD 82.389, K-AD 82.405, K-AD 82.404,21

and K-AD 83.545.22

Petrographically, the cylinders form two groups.The first is identified as originating in the autoch-thonous Troodos clays of the Kannaviou formation,a main fabric of the local Base Ring Ware at Kalavas-sos Ayios Dhimitrios.23 Members of this group are K-AD 82.389 and K-AD 82.404.

The second group is petrographically similar toEA 37 (above). It includes K-AD 82.405 and K-AD

Fig. 3. Thin-section of EA 37, showing low-grade metamorphic greywacke inclusion. Crossed polarizers,bar size: 0.2 mm.

20 Catling 1964, 17; Dikaios 1969, 10.21 Masson 1983, 131–2.22 Masson 1989, 38–9.23 This group has clayey matrix, reddish-tan in PPL, spar-

kled birefringent and optically oriented with silty quartz ac-

companied by very abundant mica laths, epidote, and plagio-clase. The inclusions contain quartz, plagiogranite, phyllite,epidote, chert, mica, apatite, and opaque minerals. The fir-ing temperature is usually around 700°C. See Vaughan 1989for comparable material from Kalavassos Ayios Dhimitrios.


83.545. This petrofabric is also known from the BaseRing Ware of Kalavasos Ayios Dhimitrios.24

An Alashiya Letter from Ugarit (RS L.1; AO 21087)Most scholars agree with the hypothesis put forth

by Nougayrol and others that RS L.1 was sent fromAlashiya and that letter 20.238 from Ammurapi Kingof Ugarit responded to it.25 Yet, a minority view op-poses this explanation. Because the letter lacks anytoponym of the sender, Singer26 and Yamada27 sug-gest that RS L.1 must have been a letter from theKing of Carchemish, the overlord of Ugarit at thetime of Ammurapi. Malbran-Labat28 and Yon29 re-cently have accepted this theory.

The clay of the tablet is light reddish in colorwith badly sorted dense inclusions, up to 1 mm in

size. The great majority of the inclusions are doler-ite fragments and their derived minerals, perhapswith some additional gabbroic inclusions (fig. 5).Serpentine is common in lesser grain sizes. Lime-stone and chert form a minority of the inclusions.30

These characteristics accord well with the dolerite-derived reworked clay from the Troodos contactzone between the volcanic series and the sedimen-tary formations (below).

Before using the petrography of RS L.1 as evi-dence for the location of Alashiya, it is mandatory toexamine the possibility of an origin in Carchemish.The geological mappings of the area between Ga-ziantep and Carchemish indicate that the sedi-ments around the site and upstream the Euphratesare very homogeneous.31 Carchemish is located on

Fig. 4. Thin-section of EA 34, showing marl with limestone inclusion (bottom, center) and a goat hair(bottom, left). Crossed polarizers, bar size: 0.2 mm.

24 This group is characterized by carbonatic matrix, tan inPPL with silty quartz accompanied by mica laths, pyroxenes,and calcite. The inclusions are made of spilitic basalt and disin-tegrated minerals derived from these rocks (clinopyroxenes,amphiboles, and feldspars), foraminiferous chalk fragments,quartzitic microgranular sandstone, and replacement chert. SeeVaughan 1989 for comparable material from Kalavassos AyiosDhimitrios.

25 Nougayrol et al. 1968, 86, n. 1, 695–7.26 Singer 1983, 217; 1999, 720, n. 394.27 Yamada 1992, 438–50.

28 Malbran-Labat 1999, 122.29 Yon 1999, 118.30 The matrix is dense, tan in PPL and containing opaque

minerals and silty quartz, twinned plagioclase, biotite, epidote,calcite, and serpentine. The inclusions are badly sorted, includ-ing an assemblage of angular igneous and sedimentary rockfragments and their derived minerals including dolerite tomicrogabbro and their derived minerals, fossiliferous limestone,serpentine, replacement chert with iron mineral stains, andquartz.

31 Tolun and Pamir 1975; Ulu 1996a, 1996b.


recent Euphrates fluvial sediments; immediatelynext to it lies the Gaziantep Formation of the Up-per Eocene, composed of silty, clayey, or chert-in-cluding limestone or chalk with glauconite con-centrations. North of the site, Quaternary “Old al-luvium” with partly consolidated clay, sand, and grav-el can be found. Igneous rocks are exposed only 45km to the north as the crow flies, near Hamut Dagi.They include tholeiitic and alkali olivine basaltsbut neither dolerite nor gabbro. Ophiolitic expo-sures of the Koçali complex appear only some 34km further north, near Yaylaek, but like the Tauricophiolites they contain only serpentinized ultraba-sics, silicified shale, radiolarites, and very limitedpillow lavas. Therefore, the lithology indicated byRS L.1 is nonexistent around Carchemish.

Fabrics of ceramics that are made of Upper Eu-phrates sediments are expected to reflect some ofthe above-mentioned components. Although nopetrographic reference to the Carchemish ceram-ics has been recorded so far, relevant data are sup-plied by the Bronze Age pottery from Tell Hadidi,

located somewhat south of Carchemish but stillwithin the same geological environment.32 Thereis no reference to any fabric resembling RS L.1 inthese data.

The final and decisive blow to the Carchemishalternative for the origin of RS L.1 is given by a con-temporary letter—RS 8.333 (AO 19.955, PRU III,7–8), which was written by the King of Carchemish.The petrographic traits of RS 8.333 resemble thoseof the Mesopotamian (Babylonian and Mitannian)tablets from the Amarna archive.33 They indicatethat the Euphrates clay-silt was used without anyintentional addition of sand inclusions, as a resultof the silty nature of these sediments. Similar char-acteristics are known from the pottery that was pro-duced in this general region.34 This, again, standsin contrast to the characteristics of RS L.1.

In conclusion, the theory connecting RS L.1 toCarchemish should be readily dismissed. Since noother interpretation has ever been suggested forthe origin of this letter, and taking into consider-ation the textual evidence in it, we take it for grant-

32 Mason and Cooper 1999.33 See Goren et al. (forthcoming). Under the petrographic

microscope the matrix of this tablet is ocher to orange-tan inPPL, birefringent with speckled b-fabric, and very strong stri-ated optical orientation. The silt is rich in mineral types in-

cluding muscovite, quartz, calcite, serpentine, hornblende,opaques, rutile, zircon, and feldspar. However, very few acci-dental grains of micritic limestone appear as inclusions.

34 Franken and Van As 1994.

Fig. 5. Thin-section of RS L.1 showing two dolerite inclusions. Crossed polarizers, bar size: 0.2 mm.


ed that this is a letter from Alashiya that can andshould be used in the search for the political cen-ter of Alashiya in the Late Bronze Age.

the origin of the alashiya lettersPetrography and the Cilician and North SyrianTheories for the Location of Alashiya

A macroscopic comparison of the fabric of theeight Amarna tablets from Alashiya indicates thatall except one (EA 37) are homogeneous in termsof color of clay, quality, type of inclusions, polish,and texture. EA 37 differs in its fabric, grits, andgeneral texture.35

A preliminary petrographic observation of EA33, 34, and 38 supplies inconclusive evidence forthe nature of the geological environment fromwhich their clay was derived. Neogene marl andlimestone (the latter seen in EA 34) are too wide-ly distributed to pinpoint a specific geographicallocation within the Near East. Even if we excludethe Enkomi area on the basis of the NAA results,36

the petrographic data still leaves open many oth-er possibilities within the various regions that weresuggested in the literature for the location ofAlashiya.

The two remaining tablets—EA 37 and RS L.1—are coarser and gritty and therefore enable betterpetrographic determination. Both tablets share thesame affinity: the main inclusion constituents werederived from an area consisting of basic igneousrocks (dolerite, gabbro, spilitic basalt, and volcanicglass), with a set of sedimentary rocks (limestone,chalk, sandstone, mudstone, and chert) accompa-nying the igneous assemblage. These composition-al, textural, and mineralogical characteristics sug-gest that the source area includes the margin of anophiolite complex37 where pillow lavas and doler-ite are exposed. Therefore, the lithology reflectedby the raw materials of these two tablets points to acontact zone between an ophiolitic complex and asedimentary area containing carbonatic, argilla-ceous, and siliceous sedimentary rocks.

Of all the typical components of the ophioliticsuccession, a very limited range of rock types is rep-

resented in EA 37. The magmatic constituent in-cludes only spilites, or rather their weathering prod-ucts (with the minute addition of some other maficminerals), with the addition of a set of sedimentaryrocks. This hints at a clay type that is directly de-rived from the weathering of pillow lavas, in a zonethat is proximate to exposures of marine sedimen-tary rocks, which include limestone and replace-ment chert. The very limited distribution of theclay and the selection of the inclusions indicatethat the area from which they were derived wasbounded within the margin of the ophiolite com-plex. The data supplied by RS L.1 supplementsthis picture. The homogeneous assembly of inclu-sions, dominated by basic volcanic/intrusive rocks(dolerite-microgabbro), indicates an area wherethese rocks form the dominant constituent of thelocal lithology. Apart from their degree of weather-ing and the relative proportions of the accompany-ing sedimentary rocks, the two tablets seem to havebeen derived principally from closely related geo-logical environments.

In the eastern Mediterranean region, ophiolitecomplexes are found in Cilicia, northwest Syria, andCyprus. Ophiolites form the Troodos massif insouthwestern Cyprus, the Mersin and Pozanti-Kar-santi massifs in Cilicia, the Kizildag massif in HatayProvince, Turkey, and the Baër-Bassit massif of north-west Syria.38 Thus, it is an amusing coincidence thatophiolitic occurrences can be found in each andevery area suggested for the location of Alashiya.Nevertheless, a closer examination of the geologi-cal data enables the elimination of most of theselocations and a rather explicit identification of thesource area of EA 37 and RS L.1.

Hall first raised the hypothesis that Alashiya waslocated in Cilicia,39 and Merrillees later advocatedit.40 Merrillees suggested identifying it with the Gulfof Iskenderun, possibly with a site such as KinetHöyük, but admitted that this proposal must awaitfurther archaeological inquiry.41 To test this hypoth-esis, the geology of the area that extends betweenMersin on the western Cilician coast and the Gulfof Iskenderun must be examined.

35 Hellbing 1979, 71–2.36 Artzy et al. 1976.37 Ophiolite complexes are presumed to represent oceanic

crust, which was thrust onto continental crust. When complete,an ophiolite consists of a thin uppermost veneer of oceanicsediment (which may include oceanic clay and radiolariancherts) overlying quenched pillowed basalts and more maturelavas, which in turn overlie a sheeted dolerite complex. Be-neath the dolerites are texturally isotropic gabbros, which over-lie layered gabbros, peridotites, and pyroxenites. These large-ly basic and ultrabasic components are cut by late-stage intru-

sions of coeval plagiogranite and overlay older oceanic sedi-ments including radiolarites and limestone. As a consequenceof its formation at spreading ridges, oceanic crust—and there-fore ophiolites—experience ocean-floor metamorphism, whichcharacteristically produces assemblages of greenschist andamphibolite facies. These metamorphites are often unde-formed.

38 Whitechurch et al. 1984.39 Hall 1913.40 Merrillees 1972, 1987.41 Merrillees 1972, 118.


The Mersin and Pozanti-Karsanti massifs are partof the “median” or Tauric ophiolitic belt of Tur-key.42 They form the most southeastern front of theTaurus ridge, between Faraxa and the plain northof Silifke.43 The two ophiolites are in structural con-tinuity with each other but are separated by thestrike-slip fault of Ecemix. The Mersin ophioliteexposes northwest of the city of Mersin, under theMiocene and Oligocene conglomerate reworkingof the ophiolite. To the north, it lies on the Tauriclimestone series. The Mersin massif continues thecorresponding lithology of the Pozanti-Karsantiophiolite north of it. It is made of a pile of tectonicslices, mostly of serpentinized harzburgite inter-crested by isolated tholeiitic dolerite dikes. In thewestern part gabbroic and pyroxenic cumulates ap-pear, interbedded with pillow lavas and radiolar-ites. In this complex the basaltic component istherefore minor and interlayered with the far moredominant peridotitic constituent.44 Consequently,it is very unlikely that this assembly would supply asediment in which basalt clasts would be dominant.This is especially true for the post-tectonic Mioce-nic sedimentary plain of the Cilician coast.

The same applies to the more northeastern areaof Pozanti-Karsanti. This ophiolite outcrops overmore than 100 km in length, covering more than1500 km2. Tectonically it lies over a series of lime-stones and radiolarites. Here too, thick outcrops ofharzburgite form the main lithology, overlaying acrushed series of tectonic slices made of pillow la-vas, radiolarites, pelagic limestones, and metamor-phic rocks. Apart from these infra-peridotitic slic-es, the rest of the massif is formed entirely of coarse-grained ultramafic rocks.45 Therefore, the same ar-guments raised against the Mersin ophiolite—namely, that the basalt clasts present in the tabletsare devoid of the local geology—are equally truefor this region.

In sum, the petrography of EA 37 and RS L.1does not match the Cilician ophiolitic complex.Therefore, a coastal site in the Mersin Gulf of Isk-enderun is unlikely to be the source for these tab-lets, especially in the case of RS L.1, which portraysa localized assembly of materials adjacent to themassif rather than materials that were washed off itinto a sedimentary plain.

According to a second theory, first raised by Wain-wright46 and later supported by Merrillees,47 Alash-iya was located in northwest Syria or the Hatay. Twoophiolitic complexes expose in this area: the Kiz-ildag massif in the southwestern part of the Amanosrange in the Hatay, and the Baër-Bassit massif westand south of the lower Orontes plain.

The Kizildag massif forms the westernmost ex-tension of the Amanos range and stretches ontothe gulf of Iskenderun. A rich body of geologicaldata enables a detailed investigation of this area.48

The constituent rock types of the ophiolite com-plex crop out over an area of approximately 1,100km2 and although they resemble those of the Troo-dos massif in Cyprus (below), the effects of ocean-floor metamorphism is significantly more devel-oped. It is unlikely that the source of the Alashiyatablets was in the plains around, or in the Kizildag

massif itself, because the pillowed basalts crop outover a very limited area on the mountaintop, whichmakes up under 0.5% of the region.49 In otherwords, it is difficult to see how an alluvial clay couldbe formed that would contain the required per-centage of pillow lava clasts. Moreover, the samearguments that were raised against the Ciliciancoastal sites—namely, that the basalt clasts are notdominant enough compared to what we see in thetablets—can be applied against northwestern Syri-an coastal sites as well.

The Baër-Bassit massif of northwest Syria lies southof the Kizildag massif, with the lower valley of theOrontes river and the plain of Antioch separatingthe two. Chenevoy,50 Parrot,51 and Whitechurch andParrot52 have described the geology of this massif,which covers an area of about 112 km2. It differsfrom both the Troodos (below) and the Kizildag

massifs. Firstly, the constituent rock types are morestrongly deformed. Secondly, they are more variedin composition because the ophiolite was tectoni-cally interleaved with a variety of older sedimentary,igneous, and medium to high-grade metamorphicrocks. None of these rock types have been detectedin the paste of the two Alashiya tablets under review.

Matson presented detailed petrographic data onthe pottery assemblages of all stages at the AmuqValley.53 Additional information was retrieved fromour thin-section collection of about 100 represen-

42 Thierry 1980, 205.43 Thierry 1980, 215–20.44 Thierry 1980, 216.45 Bingöl 1978; Thierry 1980.46 Wainwright 1914–1915.47 Merrillees 1987.48 Dubertret 1955; Erendil 1984; Robertson 1986; Tekeli

and Erendil 1986.49 Erendil 1984.50 Chenevoy 1959.51 Parrot 1974.52 Whitechurch and Parrot 1974.53 In Braidwood and Braidwood 1960.


tative Amuq ware fabrics (made from a systematicstudy collection prepared in the 1960s for the Isra-el Department of Antiquities). Both sources of in-formation militate against the possibility that EA 37and RS L.1 originated in this region. The ceramicsof the Amuq sites are characterized by an entirelydifferent clay and different temper types, in whichserpentine predominates in the inclusions. A widerange of metamorphic facies is also represented inthe inclusion assemblage. These components arenot represented in the paste of EA 37 and RS L.1.Conversely, basalt and dolerite clasts, when appear-ing in the inclusions in the Amuq ceramics, aremarginal. Additionally, in the Amuq pottery thechert fragments are always of the radiolarian class,an occurrence that stands in line with the radiolar-ian oceanic chert formations that are preserved nearthe Baër-Bassit and Kizildag ophiolites.54

In conclusion, the areas of the plain of Antiochand the Hatay are not likely to be the source of EA37 and RS L.1, despite the nearby ophiolitic com-plexes. Hence the only option left for the prove-nance of EA 37 and RS L.1, and consequently allthe Alashiya tablets, is the island of Cyprus.

the origin of the alashiya letterswithin cyprus

The geology of Cyprus indicates that the ophi-olitic complex of the Troodos massif occurs in thecentral-western part of the island.55 The massif formsmuch of the Troodos Mountains, the outcrop cov-ering an area of 3,000 km2. Two small outliers occurin the Akamas peninsula and at Troulli. Erosionhas exposed all the constituent rock types of theophiolite complex, which is exceptional for its lit-tle deformed state.

The concentric arrangement of the members ofthe ophiolite succession in the Troodos massif pro-vides the most refined control on the mineralogi-cal content of the alluvial deposits that developboth within and on the periphery of the moun-

tains. The pillow lava series form the outer, incom-plete ring that completes the structural units ofthe massif.56

A significant feature of the pillow lava outcropsof the Troodos range is that the rocks alter to formfine plastic clays, some of which have been usedfor pottery, tile, and brick production.57 One ofthe most important clay deposits is near Kornos,where alluvial clays and silts from the river valleysupport one of the best known pottery and brickproduction centers in Cyprus.58 Among other uses,these clays were known to serve until the 1960s forthe production of pithoi (locally termed pitharia)in large quantities. The main production centersfunctioned in Kornos, Phini, and Ayios Dhimitriosin the Troodos area.59

For the sake of our discussion we have adoptedthe results of the comprehensive research made byVaughan, primarily on Cypriot Base Ring Ware.60

We have also used our own reference collection ofclays from the relevant formations. The petrograph-ic data concerning pottery production around theTroodos in all periods clearly indicate similar claysand clastic assemblies to the ones observed in EA37 and RS L.1. The inclusion composition of bothtablets suggests a contact area between the volcanicand marine sedimentary terrains. In the case of EA37, another significant trait is the presence of thelow-grade metamorphic greywacke. Contact regionsbetween marine sedimentary and volcanic litholo-gies appear around the Troodos Mountains. Thecombined lithology of EA 37 and RS L.1 indicatesthat their origins should be looked for inland, noton the coast. The immediate contact zone betweenthe dolerite and the basalt outcrops on the onehand, and the limestone exposures on the other,can be found in the northern, southern, and east-ern edges of the Troodos area.

Tablets EA 37 and RS L.1 represent two related,but still different, fabrics indicating different ori-gins. The fresh detrital igneous inclusions that

54 Dubertret 1955, 91–4; Parrot 1977. This is contrary to thesituation in the Troodos area of Cyprus, where these sedimentsare removed, and most of the chert found is a much youngerEocene replacement chert (of the Middle Lefkara formation).Indeed, the Mamonia complex in Cyprus and the mélange thatis formed by the ophiolite reworking at the southeastern slopesof the Troodos contain radiolarian cherts to some extent, butthese are accompanied by entirely different rock types.

55 Geological map of Cyprus 1:250,000, 1995 ed.; see alsofig. 2.

56 Two units have been recognized: in the oldest series,designated the Lower Pillow Lava (LPL), the main rock typesinclude andesitic-basalt, quartz- andesitic-basalt, quartz-micro-

dolerite, and quartz- microgabbro. Of these the most commonare the andesitic basalts. These lower division rocks are silica-rich and contrast with the younger Upper Pillow Lava (UPL)series, which are basic in composition, with olivine as one ofthe most common constituent minerals. The rock suit includesolivine-basalts and mugearites. An inner ring of the Troodossuccession is formed mainly of sheeted dolerite dykes. See Gass1980 for further details.

57 Gass et al. 1994.58 Bagnall 1960, 103; Ionas 1998, 23, 109–10.59 Hampe and Winter 1962; London 1986, 1989; Keswani

1989, 17; Ionas 1998, 125–31.60 Vaughan 1987, 1989, 1991.


characterize RS L.1 indicate localized colluvial clay,which overlies the dolerite series of the Troodos.The presence of carbonates and chert, however, isincompatible with the use of locally available doler-ite-derived clays that have been utilized in the Troo-dos area for pottery production.61 Therefore, theorigin of this tablet should be looked for in an areawhere the dolerite-derived clays are reworked andmixed with components of the supra-ophiolitic sed-iments that surround the Troodos complex. Thisarea should contain limestone, reefal limestone,and chert. These requirements suit the region ofthe southern Cypriot coast from Petra tou Romiouto the Tremithes River, following through the east-ern Troodos foothills to Petrofani in the north. Inthis region, the Lefkara and Pakhna formationscontain a set of limestone, biogenic and corallinelimestone, chert, and marls that may contributethese components.62 The dominance and fresh stateof the dolerite clasts suggests an area in the imme-diate contact zone between the igneous and sedi-mentary outcrops. This area should be looked forinland, where the Lefkara and Pakhna formationsoverlay the dolerite series.

The petrography of EA 37 indicates an assem-blage of volcanoclastic, calcareous, siliceous, andargillaceous rock fragments. These include weath-ered basalt clasts, radiolarian mudstone, chert, lime-stone, fine-grained low-grade metamorphosedsandstones, and detrital minerals. This set corre-sponds with the data supplied by Vaughan for thetypical clays of the Moni Mélange in the southeast-ern flanks of the Troodos massif.63 An additionalexample of this set includes one of the inscribedcylinders from Kalavasos Ayios Dhimitrios (K-AD 82,405, see above), which contains exactly the sameinclusion suit as EA 37. This unique combination,all of which is represented in EA 37, is directlylinked with the Moni formation.64

The Moni formation is exposed over restrictedareas along the southern and southeastern foothillsof the Troodos (fig. 2).65 Although the nomencla-

ture and subdivision of this formation is somewhatcomplex,66 it is obvious that the sediments re-worked by the mélange form the origin for the petro-fabric of EA 37. Exactly the same petrofabric wasfound to characterize the Late Cypriot IIC vesselsat Kalavasos Ayios Dhimitrios; a natural exposure isfound just southwest of the site.67 On a broaderscale, the distribution of pottery that is made of theKannaviou clays of the Moni Mélange is character-istic of the south coast area,68 but the outcrops ofthe formation are restricted to the Troodos foot-hills between Yerasa and Pentacorno.

With the likely origin of EA 37 and RS L.1 foundin the southeastern slopes of the Troodos, we start-ed our search there for the source material of theAmarna letters from Alashiya that were made ofpure marl (EA 33, 34, and 38). When the NAA studyof the Amarna tablets was carried out, no major sitein this area had been excavated; hence ceramicmaterial from the region could not be comparedwith the clay of the tablets. Still, the correlation be-tween the Alashiya letters and some of the potteryfrom Kouklia Paleopaphos hinted that the clay typethat was used for some of the vessels at that siteshould be associated with that used for the tablets.The petrographic examination of EA 33, 34, and38 indicates a type of cream-colored marl with occa-sional volcanic clasts. The paleontological data fromEA 33 (the only case where the foraminifers werein an identifiable state of preservation) indicatesNeogene marl. In the general area of the southernTroodos foothills, there is only one possible loca-tion for such a clay source: the marl member of thePakhna formation (fig. 1), dating to the Lower Mi-ocene.69 This formation is distributed both inKouklia and below the Troodos slopes, but it doesnot extend to Enkomi or other sites that were sur-veyed in the NAA analysis. The apparent but vaguerelation between the Alashiya tablets and theKouklia pottery suggests that they were both madeof marl of the same formation, but of different ex-posures or localities.

61 Vaughan 1991, 353.62 Gass et al. 1994, 115–23, with the relevant references.63 Vaughan 1989, 80; 1991, 358–9.64 The Moni Mélange formation contains detrital igneous

rock fragments and minerals that are frequently interbeddedwith silty lenses, mudstones, and umberiferous or radiolarianshales. Olistoliths that are made of lithologies that typify theMamonia complex (considered to be part of an Upper Triassicto mid-Cretaceous continental margin) are embedded in thebentonic clay matrix, especially along the northern margin ofthe mélange. They include quartztose sandstone, clay-rich silt-stone with other minerals that suggest a metamorphic or gra-

nitic provenance. The allochthonous materials are overlain inplaces by the Lefkara chalks of the Eocene age, which are richin replacement chert, and by the Pakhna chalks (Miocene),which contain arenite lenses. As a result of weathering pro-cesses, the upper layers of the clays often contain randomparticles of the overlaying carbonatic rocks. See Gass et al. 1994,111–4.

65 Pantazis 1967, 38–46; Gass et al. 1994, 111–5.66 See Gass et al. 1994, 111 for details.67 Vaughan 1989, 79–80.68 Vaughan 1991.69 Gass et al. 1994, 123.


Marl deposits form part of the lowest chalk-marlmember of the Pakhna formation.70 The marl is re-markable by its cream to buff color, by its plasticityand, similarly to the tablets, by the relatively hard fab-ric that it forms after hardening.71 The plasticity ofthe Pakhna marls is one of their most prized features,containing as they do significant percentages of theTroodos-derived montmorillonite. The shrinkage ofthis mineral seems to be naturally tempered by itsmixture with illitic components from the carbonatesediments, making it an ideal potting material.72

Based on the above conclusions, we comparedclays from the Pakhna and Moni formations as wellas the lava-derived clays from Kornos and Phini.Samples of the Pakhna marl were taken from se-lected locations between Kouklia and Larnaca, es-pecially near relevant Late Cypriot sites (table 1).The Moni formation was sampled in several loca-tions around Moni and Pentacomo. The sampleswere soaked in water, formed into small briquettes,and fired at 600°C. The fired clays were thin-sec-tioned and examined petrographically. The studyconfirmed that RS L.1 is similar to the clay from theceramic workshop at Kornos (sample CY-24 in ta-ble 1), although the latter lacked the sedimentaryrock fragments. EA 37 is similar to a sample of re-worked exposure of the Moni Mélange that waspartly covered by the Lefkara formation chalks (sam-ple CY-23). Tablets EA 33, 34, and 38 are petro-graphically similar to many of the samples takenfrom various sections of the Pakhna marls.

Chemical Analyses of the Alashiya Letters and SelectedCypriot Clays

We supplemented the results of the petrograph-ic study with a chemical analysis, but did not carryout additional NAA study to the one conducted byArtzy et al.73 The chemical analysis was thereforeaimed at disclosing the elemental compositions ofthe tablets and comparing them with the relevantCypriot clay types that were suggested by the petro-graphic results.

Table 2 presents the elemental composition ofseveral Alashiya letters, as revealed by ICP-AES/

MS. For two of the tablets we were able to extractonly a limited sample—60 mg each for EA 34 andEA 37. This may have had some effect on the accu-racy of the measurements, especially for EA 37,though the results indicate that the concentrationsof most elements are presented in true numbers(except for P and Co). Therefore, this deficiencydid not affect the results severely. We could notexamine RS L.1 because it was immersed in glue inthe process of conservation. The NAA study re-vealed that EA 33, 34, 35, and 38 were chemicallyvery similar.74 In light of this observation we foundno point in examining EA 35 in the British Muse-um and EA 38 in the Vorderasiatisches Museum inBerlin; they were obviously produced of a similarclay type. Though our chemical analyses disclosedsome differences in the chemical composition ofEA 33 and 34, the results are closely related.

In order to cross-examine the petrographic re-sults, we sampled marl of the Pakhna formation andclay of the Moni Mélange in various locations be-tween Kouklia Palaeopaphos and Larnaca. In addi-tion, we collected a few samples of the pillow lavaand dolerite-derived clay that are still used today inthe workshops of Kornos and Phini (table 1). Bymeasuring the elemental composition of the Pakh-na marl from several outcrops, preferably near therelevant Late Cypriot sites, we hoped to identifydifferences between the various locations, and ac-cordingly to suggest a better-refined origin for EA33 and EA 34. Similarly, we wished to check thelikeness between EA 37 and the clay of the MoniMélange in its limited area of distribution.75

Using logarithms of the measured concentra-tions, the relations between the analyzed specimensmay be examined by cluster analysis. The Alashiyatablets cluster with the Cypriot clays: EA 33 and EA34 cluster with samples of the Pakhna marl, whileEA 37 clusters with samples of the Moni Mélange(fig. 6). It becomes evident that the Pakhna forma-tion includes two differing marl categories. One(represented in our collection by samples CY-8, 9,11, 14) has excellent plasticity and bright (evenwhitish) color. This type was not utilized for the

70 Pantazis 1967, 64–6.71 Pantazis 1967, 65; Gass et al. 1994, 119.72 S. Vaughan, pers. comm.73 Artzy et al. 1976.74 Artzy et al. 1976.75 The samples were collected using a set of detailed geo-

logical maps of Cyprus. A satellite global positioning system(GPS) was used to record their grid references. The clay sam-ples were formed into small briquettes, dried at room temper-

ature, and fired at 500°C. The fired briquettes were then thin-sectioned and examined petrographically to compare with thetablets. While doing this, we attempted to estimate the work-ability of each sample by assessing its plasticity and its behav-ior during drying and firing. The Pakhna marl and MoniMélange clay samples were analyzed by ICP-AES/MS. Sam-ples that proved to be absolutely unworkable were not includ-ed in the ICP analysis.


production of tablets. The letters belong to a secondmarl category within the same formation, which istypified by good plasticity (though it is not as “fat” asthe former type) and a more creamy color. Withinthis subgroup, both EA 33 and EA 34 are most close-ly related with sample CY-10 from right above thesite of Alassa Paliotaverna. The other samples (fromKouklia, Kalavasos, and Kofinou) are more remote,although they are closely related to each other.

These results do not necessarily mean that EA33 and EA 34 were made in Alassa Paliotaverna. Thefact that the samples from Kouklia Palaeopaphos andKalavasos Ayios Dhimitrios, both from within this claymember of the Pakhna formation, are closely relat-ed means that the formation is extremely homoge-neous in its composition over broad areas. We canonly establish that EA 33 and EA 34 (and the like)were made of a member of the Pakhna formationthat exposes in various locations between Larnacaand Kouklia. Thus, although the ICP analysis indi-cated the relation of EA 33 and EA 34 to a certainmember of the marl unit within the Pakhna forma-tion, the homogeneity of this member over south-ern Cyprus prevented the identification of a morespecific provenance for the tablets.

In order to investigate the reason for the prefer-ence of the less plastic, creamy marl over the bright-er and more pliable one, we simulated the produc-tion of a tablet-like shape and its incision with asharpened stick. This experiment made it obviousthat incising cuneiform signs in wet, very plasticclay is very frustrating; the very plastic type of claytends to cling to the stick and make unclear signs.The moderate plasticity of the clay was a desiredtrait that scribes must have been aware of when pre-paring the tablets for writing.

Tablet EA 37 clearly falls within the cluster of theMoni Mélange samples that come from pure out-crops of this formation. Sample CY-23, which is re-worked under the overlaying Lefkara formation, ismore related with the pure sample of the Lefkaraformation (CY-2). Therefore, although too small insize, the sample taken from EA 37 confirms thepetrographic interpretation that associated it withthis clay type. Of the Moni clay samples only CY-19showed good plasticity. We therefore suggest thatthe clay that had been selected for EA 37 was takenfrom a field rather than from an in situ exposure ofthe clay.

discussion

The Government of Cyprus in the Late Bronze Age:An Overview of Current Opinions

It is widely accepted that the political system ofLate Bronze Age Cyprus should be reconstructedon its own terms without a priori reference to thepalatial polities of the ancient Near East or the Ae-gean.76 In addition, since the archaeological recordchanged considerably toward the Late Cypriot IIC(13th century B.C.), Peltunberg77 and Knapp78

warned against extrapolation back into the MiddleCypriot III–Late Cypriot IIB periods (17th–14thcenturies B.C.), and envisaged diachronic politi-cal changes during the Late Cypriot period.

The key issue for this discussion has always beencopper production—the economic backbone ofCyprus in antiquity. The earliest commercial ex-ploitation of Cypriot copper ores took place alongthe northern rim of the Troodos Mountains at thebeginning of the second millennium B.C. Al-though the main settlements along the northerncoast of the island are still unexcavated, the richcemeteries of Lapithos Vrysi tou Barba, BellapaisVounous, Vasilia Kaphkalla, and Karmi Palealona tes-tify to their economic importance. Indeed, allknown imports into Cyprus during this period—from the Aegean, the Levant, and Egypt—werefound in these four sites, considered to be the pri-mary foci for external trade.79

During the first half of the second millenniumB.C., however, the center of gravity of both settle-ment and economy shifted from the northwest tothe central and eastern parts of the island. This isclear from the clusters of settlements at the north-eastern foothills of the Troodos Mountains southof Nicosia, and in the eastern Mesaoria, as well asfrom the heavy concentration of Near Eastern im-ports in these regions. It is certainly not a coinci-dence that the early references to copper fromAlashiya in Syrian and Babylonian cuneiform docu-ments appear at the same time (late 19th–17th cen-turies B.C.).80 Kalopsidha might have been the mainMiddle Cypriot gateway for copper export to theLevant. The archaeological record suggests that inthe early part of the Late Bronze Age (Middle Cyp-riot III–Late Cypriot I, ca. 1700–1400 B.C.) EnkomiAyios Iakovos replaced it as the most important sitein eastern Cyprus.

76 See, e.g., Knapp 1996a, 4; Peltunberg 1996, 27; see, how-ever, Åström 1966, 10, 12.

77 Peltunberg 1996, 28.

78 Knapp 1996b, 67–9.79 Knapp 1994, 418–9.80 Courtois 1986; Knapp 1996a, 5; Keswani 1996, 219.


Table 1. Cypriot Clays Sample List

Sample Formation Location Grid (UTM)a Ceramic Behavior Comments

CY-1

CY-2

CY-3

CY-4

CY-5

CY-6

CY-7

CY-8

CY-9

CY-10

CY-11

CY-12

CY-13

CY-14

CY-15

CY-16

CY-17

CY-18

Pakhna

Lefkara

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Pakhna

Doleriticreworked clay

Doleritederived clay

Khirokitiya

Khirokitiya

Khirokitiya

NearKofinou

Amathus

West ofKourion

Alassa PanoMandilaris

AlassaPaliotaverna

Alassacardboardfactory

Alassacardboardfactory

Kalavasos

Road section

Kouklia

Kouklia

Kouklia

Kato Platres

Phini

053152.385061

053038.385104

053149.384938

053283.385189

053156.384780

051261.384102

048817.383664

049250.384700

049295.384630

049240.384700

049240.384700

052648.384453

053149.384863

046059.384086

046050.384088

046073.384098

048668.385999

Village

Insoluble in water

Moderate plasticity, drieswithout cracking, slightlysinters at 500°C

Gritty, plastic but crumblesin drying

Good plasticity, slightlycracks in drying, sinters at500°C

Insoluble in water

Insoluble in water

Insoluble in water

Excellent plasticity, drieswithout cracking, sinters at500°C


Good plasticity, drieswithout cracking


Good plasticity, drieswithout cracking, sinters at500°C

Rather gritty, good plastici-ty, dries without cracking,cracks at 500°C


Good plasticity, drieswithout cracking, sinters at500°C

Insoluble in water

Gritty but plastic, drieswithout cracking

Excellent plasticity,perfect sintering at 500°C

Near the site

In the village

In the village

Car parking near theAgora

Road section

Section of the north-ern wall foundationtrench

North of Paliotaverna,from a section

North of Paliotaverna,from a section

Near the old roadcrossing the site (eastof Ayios Dhimitrios)

Upper (humic) layerfrom a road section

Potter’s workshop clay,said to be locallycollected


About the same time that Enkomi was establishedas a center on the eastern coast of the island (ca. 1600B.C.), Toumba tou Skourou was founded as the maincenter of the Morphou Bay. Only scant remains ofmetallurgical activity were discovered at this site, how-ever, as compared to the proliferation of such remainsat Enkomi, found already in its early phases (thoughit should be remembered that large parts of Toumbatou Skourou were bulldozed away prior to excavation).81

Thus, it appeared to many that in the beginning ofthe Late Bronze Age Enkomi controlled the copperindustry of the entire island and served as its mainseat of power.82 The emergence of Enkomi as a newand dominant center may have been accompaniedby the establishment of a network of hinterland fortsaimed to secure control of the mines and the com-munication lines connecting them to the coastal gate-way.83 Merrillees,84 and especially Keswani,85 advocat-ed against the existence of a unified, island-widepolity founded and dominated by a paramount cen-ter at Enkomi. Peltunberg refuted their argumentson the ground that they pertain to the situation inthe later part of the Late Cypriot period.86

Most scholars have argued that the political situa-tion in Cyprus did not change during the 15th–14thcenturies B.C. and is still reflected in the Amarnatablets. They have suggested that a king, most prob-ably seated at Enkomi, controlled the copper pro-duction of the island and participated in the inter-national trade in the eastern Mediterranean.87

The political and economic situation seems tohave changed considerably in the Late Cypriot IICperiod (13th century B.C.). New data from recentfieldwork points to fragmentation of central author-ity. Many urban sites, some of them much largerthan Enkomi, were established, mainly along thesouthern coast.88 Their monumental ashlar archi-tecture, large storage facilities, industrial installa-tions for olive oil and copper processing, adminis-trative technology (e.g., seal impressions and Cypro-Minoan inscriptions), as well as rich burials, seemto indicate that they must have been centers of re-gional polities and the seat of local elite. It has there-fore been suggested that power and the island’sresources were shared in the post-Amarna periodby a group of peer-polities.89

Table 1. Cypriot Clays Sample List (Continued)

Sample Formation Location Grid (UTM)a Ceramic Behavior Comments

CY-19

CY-20

CY-21

CY-22

CY-23

CY-24

Moni

Moni

Moni

Moni

Moni

Dolerite/pillow lavaderived clay

SE ofPentacomo

SE of Moni

SE of Moni

Pentacomo

West of Moni

Kornos

052250.384300

051900.384350

051900.384325

052218.384453

051785.384229

Village

Good plasticity, shrinks indrying, sinters at 500°Cbut slightly cracks

Moderate plasticity, crackswhile drying, crumbles infiring to 500°C



Good plasticity, drieswithout cracking, sintersat 500°C

Excellent plasticity, drieswithout crumbling,perfectly sinters at 500°C

From a mining area,section

Reworked under theLefkara formation

Potter’s workshop clay(said to be from nearStravovouni)

a GPS extracted locations are in Universal Transverse Mercator (UTM) grid, zone 36, International Spheroid European Datum.

81 Keswani 1996, 220–1.82 Muhly 1989, 299; Peltunberg 1996, 29–35; Knapp 1993,

99; 1996b, 67; 1997, 65.83 Peltunberg 1996, 30–3.84 Merrillees 1992.85 Keswani 1993; 1996, 234.

86 Peltunberg 1996, 28; see also Knapp 1997, 48–9.87 E.g., Knapp 1997, 65–6.88 Negbi 1986; Åström and Herscher 1996.89 See, e.g., Muhly 1989, 301–3; Peltunberg 1996, 28, 36;

Knapp 1996b, 68; 1997, 66–8.


Since the political reconstruction, which has justbeen delineated, suggests that the focus of powerin Cyprus had continuously shifted during the sec-ond millennium, scholars reason that Alashiya mayhave been a designation for the entire island rath-er than a name of a city.90

In a few texts, Alashiya appears with the URUdeterminative. But in certain cases, scribes whoworked in the peripheral kingdoms did not distin-guish between determinatives, and sometimesused URU, or KUR.URU, for KUR. An examina-tion of all the references where Alashiya appearswith the URU determinative reveals that no singletext refers unequivocally to a city. In other words, atown named Alashiya is not borne out by the textu-al evidence.91 We conclude that Alashiya was a namefor the island of Cyprus, or sometimes (possibly)for a part of it. Whether a certain city was also calledAlashiya cannot be established.

The Political Center of Alashiya during the 14th–13thCenturies B.C. according to the Analytical Results

The petrographic and chemical results present-ed above make it possible to attribute all the Alash-iya letters that we examined to the southeasternmargins of the Troodos Mountains. Before we try tolocate a possible candidate site for the origin of theAlashiya tablets, we must review the conventionalidentification of the capital of Alashiya in Enkomi.

A general look at the geological map of Cyprus92

reveals that Pleistocene to Holocene sands, silts,and sedimentary calcareous rocks, including main-ly biocalcarenites and marl, characterize the wholearea of eastern Cyprus, and Enkomi in particular.Thus the source materials of the tablets are far be-yond the exploitable ranges of Enkomi, Kalopsidha,or in fact any other site in the eastern part of theisland. But is it possible that carefully selected claysources were imported to Enkomi from other partsof the island in order to produce clay tablets? Thispossibility—raised by V. Karageorghis in a discus-sion of our results—cannot be dismissed on petro-graphic considerations alone. Nonetheless, we areconfident that this is not the case for three reasons.

First, the local marl at Enkomi is highly suitablefor tablet production under the restrictions thatwe suggested above, that is to say, high plasticity,low shrinkage, light color, and no inclusions.Creamy color and fine texture distinguish the pot-

tery produced at Varosi, the Greek quarter of Fam-agusta. Potters who fled from Varosi during the civ-il war in Cyprus testify that one of their main sourc-es for the high quality “white earth” was at Enko-mi.93 Therefore, we see no reason why a scribeshould prefer remote sources of clay to this highquality and easily available source.

Second, while the locally produced pottery andCypro-Minoan tablets at Enkomi are characterizedby a fine texture and light shades, EA 37 and RSL.1 are dark in color and contain coarse inclusions.The scribes who produced these two tablets no

A. Major Elements (in weight/percent)Table 2. Elemental Analysis of the Alashiya Letters

Element

SiO2Al2O3CaOMgOFe2O3TiO2P2O5SO3

B. Minor and Trace Elements (PPM)

Element

ZnCoNiBaMnCrVBeCuSrLaYCePrNdSmEuTbDyHoTmYbLu

EA 33 EA 34 EA 37

41.869.66

18.792.394.280.550.210.64

38.258.42

17.511.883.990.50

<0.20.60

41.519.87

10.861.785.430.63

<0.30.64

EA 33 EA 34 EA 37

52.2416.7080.21

142.59523.1587.9498.941.72

111.35417.3423.4518.1050.336.82

25.454.760.910.653.660.870.372.100.28

57.17

69.08315.79480.26123.03101.32

1.7149.93

221.0535.0727.3746.24

7.0126.97

5.331.100.864.650.940.372.460.34

<1555.46

91.67175.00454.17128.33

77.921.38

38.96410.00

26.5419.5045.15

6.0622.16

4.140.850.623.670.730.302.020.28

<10

90 Cf. Masson 1973; Knapp 1996a, 8.91 Knapp 1985, 236–7; 1990, 779; 1996a, 4; Na’aman 1997,

611. It may be noted that the colophon in KTU 4.102 (Walls1996a, 40) is broken on both sides. It is possible that a KUR

sign appeared on the left side, or that a post-determinative KIsign appeared on the right side (as restored in KTU).

92 1:250,000, 1995 ed.93 Ionas 1998, 133.


doubt selected the clay—which typifies the mar-gins of the Troodos—in hand.

Third, all the Alashiya tablets discussed here dif-fer drastically in their materials from the tabletsfound at Enkomi. The Enkomi tablets that we ex-amined cover a time-span of ca. 300 years, whichoverlaps the periods of the Amarna and Ugarit let-ters, and display an extremely homogenous com-position. It is clear that the raw material selectedfor tablet production at Enkomi remained the samethroughout those periods.

Combined, these factors suggest that the Alash-iya tablets from Amarna and Ugarit were producedfar from the Enkomi region (as already hinted bythe NAA study of the Berkeley team94). Further ex-amination of the southwestern margins of the Troo-dos Mountains is warranted in order to locate theplace from which the Alashiya tablets were sent.The two different clay types that were used for theproduction of the Alashiya tablets, namely the pre-dominantly calcareous fabric derived from the Mi-ocene Pakhna marls and the igneous-derived claysfrom the ophiolite margins, can be interpreted intwo different ways. They can be understood asrepresenting two different sources of clay for thetablets, or a single location where both clay typeswere used simultaneously. Since the igneous-de-rived tablets were also made in the contact zonewith the sedimentary area where both clay types are

exposed in near proximity, the second possibilityshould be favored. Indeed, in sites located on themargins of the Troodos, this twofold use of clay typesfor pottery production was customary from the Ear-ly Bronze Age through the Late Bronze Age.95 There-fore, it is very likely that all the Alashiya letters orig-inated from a single site.

The combination of Pakhna marl and the MoniMélange clay is limited in distribution. In the im-mediate area where the Moni formation is exposedthere are only a few large Late Cypriot II sites thatmay have served as administrative centers. Theseinclude first and foremost Kalavasos Ayios Dhimitriosand Amathus. Maroni Vournes (on the coast) andAlassa Paliotaverna/Pano Mandilaris (in the pied-mont) are located in an exploitable range of 10 km,where Moni clays and Pakhna marls are bounded inthe CTF (Clay-Temper Factor, above). Adding thedoleritic-derived clay of RS L.1 as another possibleresource (though in a tablet sent about a centurylater than the Amarna letters) does not change thispicture significantly, though it makes the coastalsites (Maroni and Amathus) less probable.

Historical and archaeological data help to nar-row the possibilities. The historical sources indi-cate that copper played a major role in the rela-tions between Alashiya and its eastern neighbors.A site that is directly related to copper productionmay therefore be favored. In the area limited by the

94 Artzy et al. 1976.95 Barlow and Idziak 1989; Vaughan 1991, 353–4; Weisman

1996; Barlow and Vaughan 1999.

Fig. 6. Cypriot clay samples and the Alashiya letters, tree diagram, Ward’s method,squared Euclidean distances


distribution of the above clay types, the sites of Ka-lavasos and Alassa are the best candidates to answerthis description. Maroni Vournes, though located onlyseveral kilometers east of Kalavasos, is a coastal site,too remote from the Troodos margin zone.

Kalavasos Ayios Dhimitrios is situated in the Vasili-kos Valley, northeast of the Akrotiri Bay. It is locatedin an area of exposure of the Lefkara formation ofthe Paleogene age, dominated by chalks andmarls,96 and is adjacent to the Kalavasos coppermines of the southeastern corner of the Troodosmassif. Imposing ashlar masonry, as well as exten-sive evidence for olive oil production and storagefacilities, make this site identifiable as a major ad-ministrative center.97 It flourished in the Late Cyp-riot IIC, though excavations beneath and aroundashlar Building X indicated that it was occupiedalready in the Late Cypriot IIA. The interpretationof this site as a major center is corroborated by theevidence from the tombs, which exhibit the wealthand international contacts enjoyed by the local elite.Though located not far from the coast, KalavasosAyios Dhimitrios is close to the volcanic complex ofthe Troodos massif. Therefore it is suitable for theidentification of the origin of EA 37.

The site of Alassa Paliotaverna/Pano Mandilaris wasdiscovered in 1983 in the course of a salvage surveyprior to the construction of the Kouris dam. Theexcavations exposed a considerable Late CypriotIIC–Late Cypriot IIIA site, the only one in the hilly,or mountainous zone of the Troodos piedmontexcavated thus far.98 The site is situated in proxim-ity to an area rich in sulfide ores and other copperalloys, and the excavations revealed rich evidencefor metallurgical activities.99 At Paliotaverna, impres-sive architecture characterized by ashlar masonrywas exposed, dating mainly to the 13th centuryB.C.,100 but apparently showing indications of 14th-century B.C. activity as well. The pottery from thefoundation trenches of Building I is attributed to

the Late Cypriot II.101 New 14C dates seem to sup-port a 14th-century B.C. date for the foundation ofbuilding II.102 Moreover, the long sequence of theburials from Alassa Pano Mandilaris starts at LateCypriot IB.103 The imposing architecture and theimpressive storage facilities for olive oil (i.e., pithoi,some bearing seal impressions), indicate that thesite was a major administrative center.104

Geologically, the site of Alassa is located in anarea dominated by the Pakhna formation. The firstexposures of the pillow lava series appear only sev-eral kilometers to its north, and the westernmostmargins of the Moni formation can be found at Yera-sa, 10 km to the northeast. In terms of CTF theseclays are within the exploitable territory of the site.

conclusions: the origin of the alashiyatablets

Our analysis proves that Alashiya, acknowledgedin the Amarna correspondence as a member in the“club” of great powers of the Late Bronze Age,105

must be located in Cyprus. It also indicates that thepolitical and administrative center of Alashiya inthe 14th–13th centuries B.C. was situated in themountainous region of the island.106

The similarity between the ancient name Alash-iya and modern Alassa may help to bolster this ar-gument;107 however, this similarity cannot decisive-ly identify the location of Alashiya. The name Alash-iya designated a vast area, and it could have beenpreserved in any part of the island. Even if pre-served in the name Alassa, it would point only to ageneral area in which the political center of theisland could have been located.

Some textual evidence lends support to the iden-tification of the capital of Alashiya in the mountain-ous area, away from the coast. Letter RS 20.18 wassent by Eshuwara, the chief prefect of Alashiya, tothe king of Ugarit. It was probably written at the sametime as RS L.1, in the last days of Ugarit. In the rele-

96 Gass et al. 1994, 115–9.97 South 1996, 1997.98 Hadjisavvas 1989, 1996.99 Hadjisavvas 1989.100 Hadjisavvas 1996.101 Hadjisavvas 1996, 28, 32.102 S. Hadjisavvas, pers. comm.103 Hadjisavvas 1991.104 Hadjisavvas 1996, 34–6.105 For the diplomatic rhetoric of the day, see Zaccagnini

1987, 61–5.106 The four of us could not reach a consensus on the exact

origin of the Alashiya letters. With no more information athand, Bunimovitz tends to leave the exact identification open

between Kalavasos and Alassa. Finkelstein, Goren, and Na’amanprefer the site of Alassa. It is an imposing site, with evidence ofadministrative activity; it is located close to the copper minesof the southern Troodos; and it is situated in an ideal place tocontrol both the mountainous, inland areas of the Troodos andthe centers and harbors of the coast. Whoever rules in Alassacontrols the flow of commodities between the Troodos andthe coast.

107 Courtois, as quoted by Hadjisavvas (1996, 23). Note thatin a Phoenician-Cypriot bilingual text of the fourth centuryB.C., the god Resheph carries the epithet Alhyts (in Phoe-nician), or Alasiotas (in Cypriot), i.e., from the place-nameAlasios (Walls 1996b, 60). The possible similarity of fourth-century Alasios and modern Alassa is self-evident.


vant passage (lines 16–28), Eshuwara reports of athreat to his place, located in a mountainous area,which was avoided because the 20 ships of the ene-my moved on to threaten Ugarit: “But now, (the)twenty enemy ships—even before they would reachthe mountain—have not stayed around but havequickly moved on, and where they have pitched camp(?) we do not know. I am writing you to inform andprotect you. Be aware!”108 Having Enkomi in mind,scholars have translated “the mountain (shore).”One should follow the verbal translation “mountain,”however, because there is no “shore” in the text.This evidence fits the location of the Alashiyan po-litical-administrative center at Alassa or Kalavasos,as established by the petrographic study.

Other textual references to Alashiya indicate that,in addition to the need to keep a close eye on cop-per production, ongoing security problems at thecoastal regions of the island may have dictated aninland location for its capital. In the famous Hittite“Indictment of Madduwatta” text, which is dated tothe end of the 15th century B.C., we read of pirates’raids on Alashiya by people from western Anato-lia.109 A few generations later, the king of Alashiyacomplains that Lukkians (people from Lycia insouthwestern Anatolia) continuously raid his vil-lages.110 Apparently, hostages were the main bootyof these sea-born raids.111 Christodoulou has notedthat fear from piracy or invasion inhibited coastalCypriot villages in some later periods as well.112

Sociopolitical Organization of LBA CyprusKeswani113 and Knapp114 proposed updated re-

constructions of the settlement hierarchy in LateBronze Age Cyprus constructed on Catling’s sem-inal threefold division of Late Cypriot settlementsystem and economy: (A) coastal industrial, ad-ministrative, and trading urban centers; (B) inlandrural settlements; (C) copper production sites atthe Troodos foothills.115 The essence of their mod-els, which added to the settlement structure pro-posed by Catling the important category of cere-monial or “sanctuary” sites, has served as a tenta-tive explanation of how subsistence goods, rawmaterials, and luxury items were produced, dis-tributed, transported, and administered within the

Late Cypriot settlement system. Interwoven withinthese models are suggestions about the sociopolit-ical and economic mechanisms (e.g., staple/wealthfinance) that integrated a variety of functionally dif-ferent sites on a regional scale. Both scholars, howev-er, have emphasized the dynamic nature of their con-structs, whose configuration and elements mustchange as new data emerge.116 Knapp noticed thatKalavasos and Alassa, defined in the above model as“primary” centers, do not conform to the “ideal type”of such centers and are unique in their multiplicityof functions.117 Closer to the copper mines than “pri-mary” coastal centers, these two sites must have con-trolled the mining, production, and transport of cop-per and served as centers of commercial administra-tion. Knapp further suggested that Maroni Tsarouk-kas and Kourion Bamboula could have served as in-termediary coastal sites for these inland centers (Ka-lavasos and Alassa, respectively).118

Three alternative models for Cypriot sociopoliti-cal organization are proposed in light of thepresent evidence.

The first model proposes a single centralizedauthority for the island polity of Alashiya duringthe 16th–13th centuries B.C. The seat of power hadbeen located in the mountainous area throughoutthis period, but the pre-14th-century center has notbeen located yet.

The second model acknowledges a single cen-tralized authority for Alashiya during the 16th–13thcenturies B.C., but argues that the location of thecenter of power within this polity and its internalorganization have changed in the course of time.Possibly emerging about 1600 B.C., together withthe establishment of Enkomi, the rulers of Alashiyamay have established their government at this earlystage over the eastern part of the island if not al-ready throughout the island. As Dikaios claimed,copper ores could have been transported to Enko-mi from the Skouriotissa mines, which lie on thenorthern foothills of the Troodos.119 Other coastalurban centers emerged later, and one may wonderif their foundation was initiated by the central gov-ernment or by the local elites. Because of their lackof storage facilities and reliance on transport fromthe hinterland, the coastal cities must have been

108 Nougayrol et al. 1968, no. 22; Hoftijzer and van Soldt1998, 343.

109 Bryce 1989, 298–9; Beckman 1996, 31.110 EA 38; Moran 1992, 111–2.111 Wachsmann 2000, 103–4.112 Christodoulou 1959, 62.113 Keswani 1993.

114 Knapp 1996b, 1997.115 Catling 1962, 144–5; 1975, 189–93.116 Keswani 1993, 79–80; Knapp 1996b, 66–7.117 Knapp 1997, 61.118 Knapp 1997, 61–2.119 Dikaios 1969, 11.


integrated within the overall settlement and eco-nomic system for their livelihood. In the late 15thcentury to the beginning of the 14th century B.C.,the main seat of power moved inland to Alassa(Finkelstein, Goren, and Na’aman), or to Kalava-sos/Alassa (Bunimovitz). Four letters sent fromAlashiya to Niqmaddu III of Ugarit (ca. 1225/20–1215 B.C.) were recently discovered, one of themdispatched by a king of Alashiya named Kushme-shusha.120 It seems, therefore, that the picture ofpolitical fragmentation in 13th-century B.C. Cyprusis exaggerated, if not completely wrong. The un-precedented urban flourishing during the LateCypriot IIC reflects the expansion of the commer-cial system in the eastern Mediterranean regionand the success of the Alashiyan rulers in capitaliz-ing on the expanding commerce. Enkomi contin-ued to serve as a gateway community for the Cypriotcopper trade with the Levant.

According to the third model, Alashiya com-prised a number of competing regional factionsor a federation of such independent polities.121

However, since Near Eastern rulers of the 14th–13th centuries B.C. acknowledged a king of Alash-iya, who according to our research was situated inAlassa or Kalavasos, he must have been either theoverlord of the other Cypriot polities or a primusinter pares.

It is difficult to decide which of the above scenar-ios is closer to the Late Cypriot reality. The confir-mation of the identification of Alashiya with Cyprusand the location of its capital in the mountainousinland region are essential steps in the process ofunraveling the complicated picture of the govern-ment of Cyprus in the Late Bronze Age. Many ques-tions are still to be answered. In the meantime wemay be comforted by Cadogan’s optimistic view: “itis a good sign that Late Cypriot society and historybecome ever more complicated to explain. It meansthat we are coming a little closer to the realities ofthose days.”122

department of archaeology and ancientnear eastern cultures

tel aviv universityramat aviv [email protected]@[email protected]@post.tau.ac.il

Works Cited

Artzy, M., I. Perlman, and F. Asaro. 1976. “Alashiya ofthe Amarna Letters.” JNES 2:171–82.

Åström, P. 1996. “Hala Sultan Tekke: A Late CyprioteHarbour Town.” In Late Bronze Age Settlement in Cy-prus: Function and Relationship, edited by P. Åströmand E. Herscher, 9–14. SIMA-PB 126. Jonsered: PaulÅström.

Åström, P., and E. Herscher, eds. 1996. Late Bronze AgeSettlement in Cyprus: Function and Relationship. SIMA-PB 126. Jonsered: Paul Åström.

Bagnall, P.S. 1960. “The Geology and Mineral Resourc-es of the Pano Lefkara–Larnaca Area.” Memoirs of theGeological Survey of Cyprus 5:1–116.

Barlow, J.A., and P. Idziak. 1989. “Selective Use of Claysat a Middle Bronze Age Site in Cyprus.” Archaeometry31:66–76.

Barlow, J.A., and S. Vaughan. 1999. “Breaking into Cypri-ot Pottery: Recent Insights into Red Polished Ware.”In Maletemata: Studies in Aegean Archaeology Presented toMalcolm H. Wiener as He Enters His 65th Year, edited by P.Betancourt, V. Karageorghis, R. Laffineur, and W.-D.Niemeier, 15–20. Aegaeum 20. Liège: Université de Liège.

Beckman, G. 1996. “Hittite Documents from Hattusa.”In Near Eastern and Aegean Texts from the Third to the FirstMillennia B.C., edited by A.B. Knapp, 31–5. Sourcesfor the History of Cyprus, edited by P.W. Wallace andA.G. Orphanides, vol. 2. Nicosia: Greece and CyprusResearch Center.

Bingöl, A.F. 1978. “Pétrologie du massif ophiolitique dePozanti-Karsanti (Taurus cilicien, Turkie): étude dela partie orientale.” Thèse 3e cycle, Université Stras-burg.

Braidwood, R.J., and L. Braidwood. 1960. Excavations inthe Plain of Antioch I. Chicago: Oriental Institute.

Bryce, T.R. 1989. “Ahhiyawans and Mycenaeans: AnAnatolian Viewpoint.” OJA 8:297–310.

Cadogan, G. 1996. “Maroni: Change in Late Bronze AgeCyprus.” In Late Bronze Age Settlement in Cyprus: Func-tion and Relationship, edited by P. Åström and E. Her-scher, 15–22. SIMA-PB 126. Jonsered: Paul Åström.

Catling, H. 1962. “Patterns of Settlement in Bronze AgeCyprus.” OpAth 4:129–69.

———. 1964. Cypriote Bronzework in the Mycenaean World.Oxford: Oxford University Press.

———. 1975. “Cyprus in the Late Bronze Age.” CAH II/2A. 3rd ed.:188–216.

Chevenoy, M. 1959. “Le substratum métamorphique desroches vertes dans Le Baër et Le Bassit (Syrie Septen-trionale).” Notes et Memoirs sur la Moyen-Orient 7:1–18.

Christodoulou, D. 1959. The Evolution of Rural Land UsePattern in Cyprus. The World Land Use Survey Re-gional Monograph No. 2. London: GeographicalPublications.

Courtois, J.-C. 1986. “À Propos des Apports Orien-taux dans la Civilisation du Bronze Récent àChypre.” In Acts of the International ArchaeologicalSymposium “Cyprus between the Orient and the Occi-dent,” edited by V. Karageorghis, 69–87. Nicosia:Department of Antiquities.

120 Yon 1999, 118; Malbran-Labat 1999, 122.121 See Merrillees 1992; Keswani 1993, 1996.

122 Cadogan 1996, 15.


Dikaios, P. 1969. Enkomi Excavations 1948–1958. Vol. 1,The Architectural Remains: The Tombs. Mainz am Rhein:Philipp von Zabern.

———. 1971. Enkomi Excavations 1948-1958. Vol. 2, Chro-nology, Summary and Conclusions, Catalogue, Appendi-ces. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern.

Dubertret, L. 1955. Géologie des roches vertes du nord-ouestde la Syrie et du Hatay (Turkie). Notes et Memoirs sur laMoyen-Orient 6. Paris: ORSTOM.

Erendil, M. 1984. “Petrology and Structure of the Up-per Crustal Units of the Kizildag Ophiolite.” In Geolo-gy of the Taurus Belt: Proceedings, edited by O. Tekeliand M.C. Cöncüolu, 269–84. Ankara: MTA.

Franken, H.J., and A. Van As. 1994. “Potters Who UsedEuphrates Clay.” Mesopotamian History and Environ-ment Occasional Publications 2:507–18.

Gass, I.G. 1980. “The Troodos Massif: Its Role in the Un-raveling of the Ophiolite Problem and Its Significancein the Understanding of Constructive Plate MarginProcess.” In Ophiolites: Proceedings International OphioliteSymposium, Cyprus 1979, edited by A. Panayiotou, 23–35. Nicosia: Cyprus Geological Survey Department.

Gass, I.G., C.J. MacLeod, B.J. Murton, A. Panayotou,K.O. Simonian, and C. Xenophontos. 1994. The Geol-ogy of the Southern Troodos Transform Fault Zone. (Mem-oir No. 9) Nicosia: Cyprus Geological Survey Depart-ment.

Goren, Y., I. Finkelstein, and N. Na’aman. Forthcoming.Inscribed in Clay I: Provenance Study of the Amarna Tab-lets and Other Ancient Near Eastern Texts. Tel Aviv: Insti-tute of Archaeology, Tel Aviv University.

Hadjisavvas, S. 1989. “A Late Cypriote Community atAlassa.” In Early Society in Cyprus, edited by E. Pelten-berg, 32–42. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

———. 1991. “LC IIC to LC IIIA Without Intruders: TheCase of Alassa-Pano Mandilaris.” In Cypriot Ceramics:Reading the Prehistoric Record, edited by J. Barlow, D.L.Bolger, and B. Kling, 173–80. University Museum Sym-posium Series 2, University Museum Monograph 74.Philadelphia: A.G. Leventis Foundation, University ofPennsylvania Museum.

———. 1996. “Alassa: A Regional Center of Alasia?” InLate Bronze Age Settlement in Cyprus: Function and Rela-tionship, edited by P. Åström and E. Herscher, 23–38.SIMA-PB 126. Jonsered: Paul Åström.

Hall, H.R. 1913. “The Land of Alashiya and the Rela-tions of Egypt and Cyprus under the Empire (1500–1100 B.C.).” Journal of the Manchester Egyptian and Ori-ental Society 2:33–45.

Hampe, R., and A. Winter. 1962. Bei Töpfen und Töpferin-nen in Kreta, und Zypern. Mainz: Verlag des Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseums.

Hellbing, L. 1979. Alasia Problems. SIMA 57. Göteborg:Paul Åström.

Hoftijzer, J., and W.H. van Soldt. 1998. “Appendix: Textsfrom Ugarit Pertaining to Seafaring.” In Seagoing Ships& Seamanship in the Bronze Age Levant, by S. Wachs-mann, 333–44. London: Chatham.

Holmes, Y.L. 1971. “The Location of Alashiya.” JAOS91:426–9.

Ionas, I. 1998. Pottery in the Cyprus Tradition. Nicosia:Cyprus Research Centre.

Karageorghis, V. 1970. “Chronique des fouilles et dé-couverts archéologiques à Chypre en 1969.” BCH94:191–300.

Keswani, P.S. 1989. “The Pithoi and Other Plain WareVessels.” In Vasilikos Valley Project 3: Kalavasos-Ayios Dhim-itrios II, Ceramics, Objects, Tombs, Specialist Studies, edit-ed by I.A. Todd, 12–21. SIMA 71:3. Göteborg: PaulÅströms.

———. 1993. “Models of Local Exchange in Late BronzeAge Cyprus.” BASOR 292:73–84.

———. 1996. “Hierarchies, Heterarchies, and Urban-ization Processes: The View from Bronze Age Cyprus.”JMA 9:211–50.

Knapp, A.B. 1985. “Alashiya, Caphtor/Keftiu and East-ern Mediterranean Trade: Recent Studies in Cypri-ote Archaeology and History.” JFA 12:231–50.

———. 1990. Review of Alashiya Revisited, by R.S. Mer-rillees. BibO 47:795–801.

———. 1993. “Social Complexity: Incipience, Emer-gence, and Development on Prehistoric Cyprus.”BASOR 292:85–104.

———. 1994. “The Prehistory of Cyprus: Problems andProspects.” Journal of World Prehistory 8:377–453.

———, ed. 1996a. Near Eastern and Aegean Texts from theThird to the First Millennia BC, edited by P.W. Wallaceand A.G. Orphanides. Sources for the History ofCyprus 2. Nicosia: Greece and Cyprus Research Cen-ter.

———. 1996b. “Settlement and Society on Late BronzeAge Cyprus: Dynamics and Development.” In LateBronze Age Settlement in Cyprus: Function and Relation-ship, edited by P. Åström and E. Herscher, 54–80. SIMA-PB 126. Jonsered: Paul Åström.

———. 1997. The Archaeology of Late Bronze Age Cypri-ot Society: The Study of Settlement, Survey and Land-scape. Glasgow: University of Glasgow, Departmentof Archaeology.

Knudtzon, J.A. 1915. Die el-Amarna Tafeln. 1964 ed.Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs.

London, G. 1986. “Ceramic Ethnoarchaeology in Cy-prus.” American Schools of Oriental Research Newsletter38:9–10.

———. 1989. “A Comparison of Two Contemporane-ous Lifestyles of the Late Second Millennium B.C.”BASOR 273:37–55.

Malbran-Labat, F. 1999. “Nouvelles donées épi-graphiques sur Chypre et Ougarit.” RDAC:121–3.

Mason, R.B., and L. Cooper. 1999. “Petrographic Anal-ysis of Bronze Age Pottery from Tell Hadidi, Syria.”Levant 31:135–47.

Masson, E. 1971. “Rouleau inscrit chypro-minoen trou-vé à Enkomi en 1967.” In Alasia I, edited by C.F.A.Schaeffer, 457–77. Paris: Librairie Klincksieck.

———. 1978. Journal des Savants:49–86.———. 1983. “Premiers documents Chypro-Minoen du

site Kalavasos-Ayios Dhimitrios.” RDAC:131–41.———. 1989. “Vestiges ecrits trouves sur le site de Kala-

vasos-Ayios Dhimitrios.” In Vasilikos Valley Project 3:Kalavasos-Ayios Dhimitrios II Ceramics, Objects, Tombs,Specialist Studies, edited by I.A. Todd, 38–40. SIMA 71:3.Göteborg: Paul Åströms.

Masson, O. 1973. “Apropos de l’ile d’Alasia.” Kadmos12:98–9.

Merrillees, R.S. 1972. “Alasia.” In Proceedings of the FirstCyprological Congress, 111–9. Nicosia: Department ofAntiquities.

———. 1987. Alashiya Revisited. Cahiers de la ReveueBiblique 22. Paris: J. Gabalda.


———. 1992. “The Government of Cyprus in the LateBronze Age.” In Acta Cypria: Acts of the InternationalCongress on Cypriote Archaeology Held in Göteborg on 22–24 August 1991, pt. 3, edited by P. Åström, 310–28.SIMA-PB 120. Jonsered: Paul Åström.

Michaelidou-Nicolaou, I. 1980. “Regroupement de deuxfragments de tablettes d’Enkomi avec écriturechypro-minoenne.” SMEA 21:7–16.

Moran, W.L. 1992. The Amarna Letters. Baltimore: JohnsHopkins University Press.

Muhly, J.D. 1972. “The Land of Alashiya: References toAlashiya in the Texts of the Second Millennium BCand the History of Cyprus in the Late Bronze Age.” InProceedings of the First International Cyprological Congress,201–19. Nicosia: Department of Antiquities.

———. 1989. “The Organization of the Copper Indus-try in Late Bronze Age Cyprus.” In Early Society in Cy-prus, edited by E.J. Peltenburg, 298–314. Edinburgh:Edinburgh University Press.

———. 1996. “The Significance of Metals in the LateBronze Age Economy of Cyprus.” In The Developmentof the Cypriot Economy from the Prehistoric Period to thePresent Day, edited by V. Karageorghis and D. Micha-lides, 45–59. Nicosia: University of Cyprus and theBank of Cyprus.

Na’aman, N. 1997. “The Network of Canaanite LateBronze Kingdoms and the City of Ashdod.” UgaritF29:599–626.

Negbi, O. 1986. “The Climax of Urban Development inBronze Age Cyprus.” RDAC:97–121.

Nougayrol, J., E. Laroche, C. Virolleaud, and C.F.A.Schaeffer. 1968. Ugaritica V, Nouveaux Textes Accadiens,Hourrites et Ugaritiques des Archives et Bibliothèques Privéesd’Ugarit, Commentaires des Textes Historiques (PremièrePartie). Paris: Imprimerie Nationale.

Pantazis, T.M. 1967. The Geology and Mineral Resources ofthe Pharmakas-Kalavasos Area. Geological Survey De-partment of Cyprus Memoir no. 8. 1978 ed. Nicosia:Geological Survey Department.

Parrot, J.F. 1974. “L’assemblage ophiolithique du Baër-Bassit (nord ouest de la Syrie): Étude petrographiqueet geochemique du complexe filonien, des laves encoussins qui lui sont associees, et d’une partie desformations effusives du volcano- sedimentaire.” Cah-ier ORSTOM, Service Geologique 6:97–126.

———. 1977. Assemblage ophiolitique du Baër-Bassit et ter-mes effisifs du volcano-sédimentaire. Paris: ORSTOM.

Peltenburg, E.J. 1996. “From Isolation to State Forma-tion in Cyprus, c. 3500–1500 B.C.” In The Developmentof the Cypriot Economy from the Prehistoric Period to thePresent Day, edited by V. Karageorghis and D. Micha-lides, 17–43. Nicosia: University of Cyprus and theBank of Cyprus.

Robertson, A.H.F. 1986. “The Hatay Ophiolite (south-ern Turkey) in Its Eastern Mediterranean TectonicContext: A Report on Some Aspects of the FieldExcursion.” Ofioliti 11:105–19.

Schubert, P. 1986. “Petrographic Modal Analysis: A Nec-essary Complement to Chemical Analysis of CeramicCoarse Ware.” Archaeometry 28:163–78.

Singer, I. 1983. “Western Anatolia in the Thirteenth Cen-tury B.C. According to the Hittite Sources.” AnatSt33:205–17.

———. 1999. “A Political History of Ugarit.” In Hand-book of Ugaritic Studies, edited by W.G.E. Watson and N.

Wyatt, 603–733. Leiden: Brill.South, A. 1996. “Kalavasos-Ayios Dhimitrios and the Or-

ganisation of Late Bronze Age Cyprus.” In Late BronzeAge Settlement in Cyprus: Function and Relationship, edit-ed by P. Åström and E. Herscher, 39–49. SIMA-PB126. Jonsered: Paul Åström.

———. 1997. “Kalavasos-Ayios Dhimitrios 1992–1996.”RDAC:151–75.

Tekeli, O., and M. Erendil. 1986. “Geology and Petrolo-gy of the Kizildag Ophiolite (Hatay).” Bulletin of theMineral Resources and Exploration Institute of Turkey107:21–37.

Thierry, J. 1980. “Ophiolites of Turkey.” Ofioliti 2:199–237.

Tolun, N., and H.N. Pamir. 1975. 1:500,000 ölçekli A TürkiyeJeoloji Haritalsi, Hatay (with explanatory notes). Ankara:Institute of Mineral Research and Exploration (Turk-ish and English).

Ulu, Ü. 1996a. 1:100,000 ölçekli Açinsama Nitelikli TürkiyeJeoloji Haritalari Serisi No 43, Suruç – L 25 Paftasi. (Turk-ish with English abstract.) Ankara: Institute of Miner-al Research and Exploration.

———. 1996b. 1:100,000 ölçekli Açinsama Nitelikli TürkiyeJeoloji Haritalari Serisi No 42, Urfa – K 25 Paftasi. (Turk-ish with English abstract.) Ankara: Institute of Miner-al Research and Exploration.

Vaughan, S. 1987. “A Fabric Analysis of Late CyprioteBase Ring Ware: Studies in Ceramic Technology, Pe-trology, Geochemistry and Mineralogy.” Ph.D. diss.,University College London.

———. 1989. “Petrographic and Microprobe Analysesof Base Ring Ware.” In Vasilikos Valley Project 3: Kalava-sos-Ayios Dhimitrios II Ceramics, Objects, Tombs, SpecialistStudies, edited by I.A. Todd, 78–81. SIMA 71:3. Göte-borg: Paul Åströms.

———. 1991. “Late Cypriote Base Ring Wares: Studiesin Raw Materials and Technology.” In Recent Develop-ments in Ceramic Petrology, edited by A. Middleton andI. Freestone, 337–68. British Museum Occasional Pa-per 81. London: The British Museum.

Wainwright, G.A. 1914–1915. “Alashia=Alasa; and Asy.”Klio 14:1–36.

Wachsmann, S. 2000. “To the Sea of the Philistines.” InThe Sea Peoples and Their World: A Reassessment, editedby E.D. Oren, 103–43. University Museum SymposiumSeries 11, University Monograph 108. Philadelphia:University of Pennsylvania Museum.

Walls, N. 1996a. “Ugaritic Documents from Ugarit.” InNear Eastern and Aegean Texts from the Third to the FirstMillennia B.C., edited by A.B. Knapp, 36–40. Sourcesfor the History of Cyprus, edited by P.W. Wallace andA.G. Orphanides, Vol. 2. Nicosia: Greece and CyprusResearch Center.

———. 1996b. “Phoenician Texts (Post-Bronze Age).”In Near Eastern and Aegean Texts from the Third to the FirstMillennia B.C., vol. 2, edited by A.B. Knapp, 60. Nico-sia: Greece and Cyprus Research Center.

Weisman, R.M. 1996. “Petrographic Analysis of Potteryfrom Alambra.” In Alambra: A Middle Bronze Age Settle-ment in Cyprus, Archaeological Investigations by CornellUniversity, edited by J.E. Coleman, J.A. Barlow, M.K.Mogelonsky, and K.W. Schaar, 447–73. SIMA 118.Göteborg: Paul Åström.

Whitechurch, H., and J.F. Parrot. 1974. “Les écaillesmétamorphiques infra-péridotitiques du Baër-Bassit


(nord-ouest de la Syrie).” Cahier ORSTOM, ServiceGeologique 6:173–84.

Whitechurch, H., T. Juteau, and R. Montigny. 1984. “Roleof Eastern Mediterranean Ophiolites (Turkey, Syria,Cyprus) in the History of the Neo-Tethys.” In The Geo-logical Evolution of the Eastern Mediterranean, edited byJ.E. Dixon and A.H.F. Robertson, 301–17. Oxford:The Geological Society.

Yamada, M. 1992. “Reconsidering the Letters from the

‘King’ in the Ugarit Texts: Royal Correspondence ofCarchemish?” UgaritF 24:431–46.

Yon, M. 1999. “Chypre et Ougarit à la fin du BronzeRécent.” RDAC:113–8.

Zaccagnini, C. 1987. “Aspects of Ceremonial Exchangein the Near East during the Second Millennium B.C.”In Centre and Periphery in the Ancient World, edited byM. Rowlands, M. Larsen, and K. Kristiansen, 57–65.Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.


Reading BabylonMARC VAN DE MIEROOP

AbstractA combined investigation of the archaeological re-

mains and the ancient testimonies of the city of Babylonin the days of King Nebuchadnezzar, during the sixthcentury B.C., allows us to read the city’s multiple ideo-logical messages. The concern of the article is not withthe identification of specific monuments, but with theideological notions that the monuments conveyed tothe ancient viewer. This issue is examined on variouslevels, from the city in its entirety to the ephemeralappearances of monuments during religious processions.*

“Babylon the great, mother of harlots and ofearth’s abominations”; this image from the biblicalBook of Revelation (ch. 17) dominated Westernthought on Babylon for centuries. The city was thetrope of evil and decadence; it was the place of sin,which had fallen under the vengeful hand of God.It was the place of exile, the antithesis of Jerusalemor of Christian Rome, the place where apostatepopes resided.1 Not only was the behavior of its in-habitants ungodly, but the city itself, with its towerthreatening heaven, was also an indication of arro-gance. Such an image flourished within a discoursethat built fantasy upon fantasy, in the absence of anyconcrete knowledge of what the city really lookedlike. But when the Deutsche Orient-Gesellschaftstarted to unearth Babylon’s massive remains at theturn of the 19th century, and hauled off parts of itto a newly built museum in Berlin, a new view be-gan to emerge. Pieter Breugel’s fanciful Tower ofBabel gave way to the majestic dark-blue Ishtar gatewith its bulls and dragons as the image of the city.Another biblical verse became Babylon’s epigram,from the mouth of King Nebuchadnezzar: “Is notthis Babylon, which I have built by my mighty poweras a royal residence and for the glory of my majes-ty?” (Daniel 4:30). Its enormous size, its massivewalls, palaces, and temples, made it an icon of royalpower.2

Was this all the city signified, however? Was itonly the expression of the power of its builder whothus exemplified the oriental despot whose mega-lomania is demonstrated by the grandeur of his city?This article will provide an alternative semiotic read-ing of Babylon, one based on the Babylonian ideol-ogy of the city’s role in the universe rather thanbeing rooted in the idea of absolute royal power.The ideology regarding the city will be pried fromthe extensive ancient literature that deals with Baby-lon. Such literature was written both by what wemight call insiders, Babylonians to whom the citywas the norm, and outsiders, forced or voluntaryvisitors who looked upon it as something new andstrange (fig. 1).

how to read babylon?

That a city can be the subject of a semiotic analy-sis has become a familiar idea since Roland Bar-thes called for it in a lecture in 1967, later pub-lished as “Semiology and Urbanism,”3 and Umber-to Eco devoted an entire section of his introduc-tion to semiotics to architecture.4 A semiotic read-ing of Babylon is certainly very different from whatBarthes called for when he urged us to look at thecities we inhabit. Despite the intricate models builtof parts of the city or the restorations of buildingson the site itself (fig. 2), we cannot walk throughBabylon’s streets, we cannot see the details of build-ings or the effects of nature and man on its monu-ments. Even compared to other cities that have dis-appeared or changed fundamentally over time, ouraccess to Babylon remains very limited. AugustanRome, for example, can be visualized much better:we know the city plan in detail and some of its build-ings and monuments are still standing.5 For theBabylon I will discuss, the visual evidence is muchpoorer. Often only a ground plan exists, if that

*A preliminary version of this article was delivered to theCanadian Society for Mesopotamian Studies at the Universityof Toronto, at the invitation of Grant Frame. Jeremy Blackprovided me with some of his personal photographs taken atthe site of Babylon, one of which is reproduced here. Afterreading an earlier version of the article, Zainab Bahrani urgedme to push the analysis further than I had done. Seth Richard-son’s insightful editing of the manuscript clarified the argu-ment, and Mara Horowitz produced the map and plans. I amvery grateful to these people for their interest and advice.

1 For Babylon in Middle Eastern and European traditions,see Rollinger 1999. For the reception of Babylon and Babylo-nian culture in European literature, see Haas 1999.

2 For the idea that all Mesopotamian cities express the pow-er of the king in their layout, see Novák 1999.

3 The essay was translated into English and reprinted sever-al times; see, e.g., Barthes 1988.

4 Eco 1972, 259–317.5 Favro 1996.

MARC VAN DE MIEROOP258 [AJA 107

much. While archaeological plans of the city arepublished with various levels of detail, a closerlook at them will show a set of lines with many emptyspaces in between. Very little of the city’s enor-mous surface of close to 900 ha has been excavat-ed. We may know the location and plan of somemajor streets and buildings, but can only imaginewhat the layout of most neighborhoods was. Wemay think that we can reconstruct the facade ofsome temples, but we cannot envision their colorsor ephemeral additions, officially sanctioned ornot, of stalls, awnings, flagpoles, and the like. Onthe other hand, the distance from the hustle andbustle of daily life may be an asset. In a passagethat has gained greater poignancy after recentevents, Michel de Certeau takes the viewer up tothe 107th floor of the World Trade Center in NewYork in the introduction to his essay “Walking inthe City,” where the walk is compared to a rhetori-cal act: “His altitude transforms him into a voyeur.It places him at a distance. It changes an enchant-ing world into a text. It allows him to read it.”6

Similarly, we look at Babylon from a distant andOlympian point of view.

What is available to us of ancient Babylon fallsprimarily in the categories that make up the imageof a city: paths, edges, districts, nodes, and land-marks.7 The access roads and streets form the pathsthe visitors would take. The walls, of the entire cityand of certain of its monumental buildings, andthe riverbanks form the edges that create bound-aries. We can recognize neighborhoods (albeit notin detail), and we see crossroads and gates wherethe visitor had to decide how to proceed. The Baby-lon known to us is primarily one of landmarks, thelarge monuments that draw the archaeologists’ at-tention—palaces, temples, and gates. They are ex-ternal points of reference to the observer who of-ten cannot enter them.

We are fortunate having some ancient writtentestimonies on Babylon. These accounts fall intotwo distinct categories, those written by Babyloniansand those written by outsiders. Because of the city’sspecial status in politics and religious life, the Baby-lonians themselves devoted an extraordinaryamount of attention to Babylon compared to othercities. The unusual interest is not evident in theroyal building inscriptions, which are quite con-ventional and do not deal with the city as a whole,but in what modern scholars call topographical

texts.8 In typical Mesopotamian fashion these arelists, the most important among them called “Tin-tir = Babylon,” a five-tablet compendium mostlymade up of names and epithets of the city and itstemples. Tablet IV gives the names of 43 templesgrouped according to their city-quarter, for instance,four in the quarter called Ka-dingirra. The fifth tab-let lists the names of city-walls, waterways, and streetswithout giving their locations. It ends with a de-scription of the location of the 10 city-quarters bystating two landmarks in each of them, most oftencity-gates. For example:

From the Market Gate to the Grand Gate [is called]Eridu;

From the Market Gate to the Urash Gate is calledShuanna;

From the Grand Gate to the Ishtar Gate is called Ka-dingirra.9

This information allows us to put names on thearchaeological map of the inner city.

Individual religious buildings can be likewisedescribed: great emphasis is given to their dimen-sions. There are, for instance, several tablets thatgive measurements for the ziggurat of Babylon.10

The topographical texts are not the equivalent ofPausanias’s travel descriptions of Greece, but theydo indicate to us that the Babylonians also recog-nized that the elements mentioned above made upthe image of the city. These records allow us to

Fig. 1. Map of Mesopotamia with the location of the sitesmentioned in the article

6 de Certeau 2000, 102.7 Lynch 1960.8 George 1992.

9 George 1992, 69.10 E.g., Wiseman 1985, 71–3.

READING BABYLON 2592003]

name many of the features we observe on the citymap, and the name was considered to be crucial forthe nature of the named in Mesopotamian tradi-tion. Nor should we forget that Babylon, as politicalcapital and religious center of the Babylonian state,appears in a great number of literary compositions.It was prominent in the minds of poets and authors,many of whom may have lived and worked in thecity in the service of the king.

The accounts by outsiders are narrative in na-ture and more directly informative on the subjectof what impression Babylon or one of its featuresmade on the observer. Most prominent is the ac-count by Herodotus in the first book of his Histo-ries (chs. 178–183). Scholars have debated pas-sionately over whether or not Herodotus ever vis-ited the city,11 but this is not relevant to the analy-sis here. What counts is the impression the citymade on the viewer, and it does not matter wheth-er Herodotus tells us this first- or secondhand.Herodotus was in awe of Babylon, as were otherclassical authors who mentioned it. To the Greeksit was an extraordinary sight, an opinion certainlyconnected to their misapprehension of the East-ern world, where everything was different fromtheir own world. Another outside group that saw

Babylon wrote or inspired the Biblical narrative.A strong image of the city existed in this milieuand, although the attitude toward it was negative,the voice represented helps us to determine howBabylon was perceived by people who saw it inreality.

Even taken together, this diffuse and multifac-eted evidence does not replace a walk through aliving city for the purpose of a semiotic analysis.Reading Babylon is like reading a fragmentarytext—the usual situation for the student of ancientMesopotamia. What remains of its literature, forexample, is incomplete. Even when numerousmanuscripts are preserved of a literary composi-tion, as in the case of the well-known Epic of Gil-gamesh, there are gaps where the cuneiform tab-lets are broken and illegible, or the signs are tooopaque for our comprehension. Mesopotamianworks of art are most often incomplete and dam-aged. This incompleteness must become part ofour appreciation of the Mesopotamian remains: itcannot be avoided and should not be ignored, asis usually done. We cannot fill in the gaps, norshould we regard the remnants at our disposal asa seamless whole. What we have is incomplete; andyet the subject itself remains as valid a topic of

11 Compare, e.g., Rollinger 1993 and its review by Dalley (1996).

Fig. 2. Reconstruction of the Ninmah temple at the site of Babylon. Remains of the Ishtar gate are visible in theforeground. (Photo courtesy of J. Black)


research as does a complete work.12 Nor shouldMesopotamia be regarded as worse off than otherhistorical cultures in that respect. All evidence, eventhe most abundant, must always be supplementedby readers to fit their logical patterns. The aim hereis to seek in the architecture of Babylon a guide tothe ideas its builders wanted to convey and its visi-tors received. Since we are not people of Babylon,we will never truly grasp their thoughts, but we mayget an idea of the directions these took.

which babylon?

The city of Babylon had a history that spanned atleast 2,000 years, if we exclude its modern use as atourist destination and presidential residence.Babylon came into being in the late third millenni-um B.C., if not before. It became the political cen-ter of southern Mesopotamia from the 18th centu-ry on, and survived in that role until around 300B.C. So which Babylon are we to study here: an amal-gam of neighborhoods and buildings that devel-oped over time, or a city planned in its general lay-out by one or a few individuals? The answer is nei-ther: the city cannot be seen as having graduallyexpanded, as being a mere agglomeration of con-structions by successive inhabitants. Nor can it beseen as planned anew by one person or by commit-tee. Its growth over time was interrupted by politi-cal events, and radical changes took place in itslayout. On the other hand, its major builders neversaw the city as a new one: restoration, not renova-tion, was their goal.

Within its long history, Babylon received the at-tention of many kings who embellished it with mon-uments in order to guarantee their personal gloryin the future. But others targeted it to steal its wealth,or wanted to punish its inhabitants for their politi-cal disobedience. The most dramatic example ofthe last attitude dates to the seventh century B.C.when the Assyrian king, Sennacherib, exasperatedby his inability to control Babylonia, turned againstits capital and sacked it. His own description of theevents in the year 689 is very detailed. He statesthat he razed all buildings from top to bottom anddumped their rubble into the river. Like a flood hewiped the city off the face of the earth.13 Even allow-ing for hyperbole, the action seemed to have leftthe city indeed desolate, and provided an opportu-

nity for its rebuilding. It is this new city that we nowknow best in archaeological terms, the result of along-term reconstruction that culminated in thereign of the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II(ruled 604–562). Even if his city used a plan thathad existed before14 and re-erected buildings orig-inally built a century earlier,15 Babylon as excavatedcan be regarded as the work of the new native Baby-lonian dynasty that arose during the last decades ofthe Assyrian empire and became its heir. Of thatdynasty, Nebuchadnezzar was the greatest builder,who left numerous inscriptions announcing whatwork was his. He was also the foremost military cam-paigner of his dynasty, most infamous for his de-struction of Jerusalem, and it is well known thatMesopotamian rulers often used the spoils of theirconquests for building purposes at home.

Nebuchadnezzar’s Babylon is thus the subject ofthis analysis. The king never claimed that what hehad built was an entirely new city. He only boastedof the individual buildings, streets, or walls that heconstructed. That attitude was not unusual in an-cient Mesopotamia. On the contrary, most kings didnot boast of the fact that they founded a new city.16

The reasons for this diffidence will become clearthrough this reading of Babylon’s messages aboutorder and power.

That city was enormous, close to 900 ha in size(fig. 3),17 which made Babylon the largest city of theancient Mediterranean until imperial Rome. Itsgeneral plan incorporated two geometrical figures(fig. 4). A large triangle (ca. 2,850 × 4,050 × 4,500m) abutted the east bank of the Euphrates river asits longest side, and the two other sides were madeup by walls with a moat. It is unclear why this ratherstrange layout was chosen, but it seems to have someconnection to the wish to integrate the so-calledsummer palace some 2 km north of the inner city.Partly within this triangle was the rectangular in-ner city (ca. 2,750 × 1,625 m), spread out on bothsides of the river, which contained the largest con-centration of monumental buildings. At its centerwas the main sanctuary of Babylon, the Esagila-tem-ple with its massive ziggurat, the Etemenanki, de-voted to the city-god Marduk. The major streets ledto that central location. Two walls and a moat sur-rounded the inner city, and one or more bridgesconnected the eastern and western parts.

12 Black 1998, 38–42.13 Luckenbill 1924, 83–4.14 George 1999b.15 Miglus 1999.16 Van De Mieroop 1999a, 53–61.

17 Remarkably divergent numbers are published for the sizeof Babylon in this period, cf. Nagel and Strommenger (1978–1979, 70–1). I follow their suggestion, which is also used byNovák (1999, 96).


a visit to babylonA View from Afar

Approaching Babylon a visitor would walk, ride,or sail through a very level countryside, a hallmarkof the lower Mesopotamian plain, and see the cityfrom a great distance. The entire city itself then is alandmark that determines its surroundings fromas far as the eye can see. A first aspect that wouldhave struck the visitor was its size. From whateverangle the city was viewed, its outer walls stretchedover a distance of some 3 to 4.5 km, far surpassingthose of any contemporary city. This enormity madea great impression on classical authors who usedfantastic figures to describe Babylon’s extent. Hero-dotus is very explicit on this matter. He starts bystating that Assyria, his name for Babylonia, is a coun-try remarkable for its great cities, but that Babylon

stands out among them: “Babylon lies in a wideplain, a vast city in the form of a square with sides120 stadia long; the circumference of the city isthus 480 stadia” (Hdt. 1.178). Depending on thebasic length of the stadium he uses, the length ofone side is between 21 and 24 km for a total of some90 km.18 Even Ctesias, more likely than Herodotusto have visited Babylon in person, makes the com-bined length of the four walls 360 stadia, some 66km.19 These figures led late 19th-century scholarsto believe that the entirety of northern Babylonia,incorporating the cities of Kish, Borsippa, and Baby-lon, was surrounded by a massive square wall (fig.5). As he refers to a square city, Herodotus probablywas thinking of the inner city, whose four walls to-gether measured only 8 to 9 km. We need not seekan archaeological correlate: to the Greeks, at least,

18 Nesselrath 1999, 190 n. 4. 19 Boncquet 1987, 72.

Fig. 3. Plan of the site of Babylon before excavations. (After Koldeway 1925, pl. 1)


Babylon was immense in size, and the figures givenare so enormous that they convey the idea to itsfullest extent. Aristotle describes it as a “city thathas the circuit of a nation rather than a city” (Pol.3.1.12).20 The size had consequences for its inhab-itants. Herodotus states that it led to people in thecity center being unaware that the outskirts hadbeen captured by Cyrus (Hdt. 1.191) and Aristotleclaimed it took three days for the news to reacheveryone (Pol. 3.1.12).

Babylon did not only make an impression becauseof its horizontal extent; it also stood out vertically.In the flat countryside—Herodotus talks of a vastplain—it formed a vertical marker, again visible froma great distance. There are several ideological as-pects to this dimension. Babylon’s walls demarcat-ed its edges, and moats surrounded the walls. Neb-uchadnezzar imagined these as forming a largeswamp. He states: “Alongside Babylon great banks

of earth I heaped up. Great floods of destroyingwater like the great waves of the sea I made flowaround it; with a marsh I surrounded it.”21 Hero-dotus wrote, “Babylon . . . is surrounded by a broaddeep moat full of water, and within the moat thereis a wall fifty royal cubits wide and two hundredcubits high” (Hdt. 1.178). The city walls rose out ofthe water surrounding them, and they were enor-mous in height as well. Herodotus’s figure wouldbe about 100 m, an unbelievable number, but in-dicative of the fact that they made an awesome im-pression. Combined with the moat, they created avision of the primordial sea out of which arose Baby-lon. So Nabopolassar could call the inner city wall“the firm frontier as old as time itself.”22

By this likening, the city became the primordialmound that had arisen out of the water at the be-ginning of creation itself, the geographical and tem-poral point from which all else was made. This pri-

Fig. 4. Plan of the entire city of Babylon. (After Van De Mieroop 1999a, 87)

20 Rackham 1977.21 Langdon 1912, 93, col. 2, 10–4.

22 Al-Rawi 1985, 5–6.


mordial mound remained physically included inBabylon for its entire history: in the courtyard of theMarduk temple was a platform given the Sumerianname du6-kù, “the pure hill.” The hill, which aroseat the time of creation, was imagined to haveemerged from the Persian Gulf as a result of thedeposits of silt by the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.23

The cult platform became the synecdoche for theentire city. Its name explicitly stated what the roleof Babylon as a whole was: the place of creation ris-ing from the sea, and because of its permanent pres-ence, it fulfilled that role in perpetuity. As the pri-mordial hill, the city was at the center of the world,a concept clearly expressed in the so-called Babylo-nian world-map. It depicted the world as a rounddisk, floating in the ocean, within its center therectangular city of Babylon clearly identified with acuneiform legend (fig. 6).24

By perpetually making up this vertical point lo-cated within the primordial ocean, Babylon becamethe axis that joined the universe together. To theBabylonians the universe was multilayered, contain-ing three levels of heaven and three levels ofearth.25 Humans lived on the upper level of earth,with the heaven above them. Beneath them was theunderworld sea, called apsu, where the god Ea re-sided. According to the Babylonian creation myth,the city of Babylon was built upon the apsu. Mar-duk, Babylon’s god, stated in the myth:

Above Apsu, the azure dwelling,Opposite Esharra, which I built above you,Below the sacred places, whose grounding I made

firm,A house I shall build, my favorite abode.26

And that house was Babylon: It was the linchpinthat connected all the layers of the universe. In the

23 Maul 1997, 116.24 Horowitz 1998, 20–43.

25 Pongratz-Leisten 1994, 36.26 Foster 1993, 382.

Fig. 5. Plan of Babylon as published in Wissowa 1896


lists of the city’s epithets are included “the bond ofthe heavens,” or “which grasps the bridle of heavenand underworld,” and “the bond of heaven and theunderworld.”27 Architecturally this image was con-veyed by the city walls rising out of the water sur-rounding them, but of course, also by its buildingsreaching into the heavens. And here the ziggurat,clearly visible from afar, was crucial. Its Sumerianname, Etemenanki, meant “House, Foundation Plat-form of Heaven and Underworld.”

The ZigguratWe have little idea exactly what the ziggurat

looked like, but it was certainly imposing. Today itis a pitiful flat heap because Alexander of Mace-don dismantled it in preparation for a rebuildingthat never took place; its ruins were dumped on ahill called Homera.28 In Nebuchadnezzar’s day itmust have been a truly impressive sight, however.There is no doubt that the Biblical authors of theTower of Babel story had the ziggurat of Babylon inmind. It was an attempt by humans to reach theheavens. Its builders state, “Come, let us build our-selves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens”(Gen. 11:4). This plan worried God to such an ex-tent that he confused the tongues of men to dif-fuse their power. “This is only the beginning of whatthey will do; and nothing that they propose to dowill now be impossible for them” (Gen. 11:6). Hero-dotus, or his source, was equally impressed by thetower. He wrote:

(the temple) has a solid central tower, one stadium inlength and one in width, with a second erected ontop of it, and then a third, and so on up to eight. Alleight towers can be climbed by a spiral way runninground the outside, and about half-way up there areseats for those who make the assent to rest on. On thesummit of the topmost tower stands a great templewith a fine large couch in it, richly covered, and agolden table beside it. The shrine contains no imageand no one spends the night there except one Assyr-ian woman, all alone, whoever it may be that the godhas chosen (Hdt. 1.181).

The reconstruction of the ziggurat is a highlydebated question in the discipline.29 There is onlyone ancient visual representation of it, whose de-tails are unclear. It appears on a relief that remainspartly unpublished, which was excavated by theGerman expedition in 1917, but is now part of a

private collection.30 It shows king Nebuchadnezzarnext to a typical Mesopotamian stepped tower withseven stages, and contains a short inscription iden-tifying the tower as Etemenanki. A longer inscrip-tion on the relief, not published, contains a build-ing account of King Nebuchadnezzar. The reliefalso shows a plan that is very difficult to read. Otherplans are found on a variety of cuneiform tablets,which provide some measurements,31 but theseleave a lot of room for interpretation. On this evi-dence we can envision Babylon’s ziggurat as a sev-en-stepped tower that reached high into the sky,but we do not know its actual height or the detailsof its appearance. By itself the ziggurat has becomethe trope that defined Babylon in western Europe-an thought, and as such it has been representednumerous times in Western art.32 Naturally, the lackof actual remains had allowed artists’ imaginationsto run wild; Pieter Breugel’s versions were moreinspired by the Islamic minaret at Samarra than byanything ancient Mesopotamian. The tower was asign of man’s hubris, but also of ingenuity andprogress, ideas we find in Western literature aswell.33 The actual appearance of the ziggurat wasthus forgotten and replaced by an idea: an amazingmonument that represented the upper limit of whathumankind could accomplish.

The verticality of the ziggurat was its dominantvisual feature, and its presence in a wide, flat coun-

27 George 1997, 127.28 Koldewey 1925, 301.29 Cf. Vicari 1986.30 The relief is in the privately owned Schøyen collection

(Oslo and London) and can be seen at http:*www.nb.no/bas-

er/schoyen/4/4.2/ms2063.jpg. I owe this reference to ananonymous reviewer for AJA.

31 Jakob-Rost 1984; Wiseman 1985, 71–3.32 Minkowski 1960; Albrecht 1999.33 Rollinger 1999, 375–7.

Fig. 6. The Babylonian map of the world with translation ofsome of the cuneiform legends. (After Imago Mundi 48[1996] 211)


tryside made this aspect even more eye-catching.Recently an interesting suggestion was made thatties this vertical axis together with a horizontal one.The profile of the ziggurat with its seven stages canbe seen as the ground plan of a temple, where thestages correspond to courtyards and rooms. Theziggurat itself can be seen as a vertical temple.34

The top stage, where Herodotus places the shrinethat no one but a priestess enters, corresponds thento the inner cella of the temple, inaccessible to allbut a few select priests, set at the rear of a linearseries of rooms.

The City WallsThe same complementarity between vertical and

horizontal axes can be applied to Babylon in itsentirety. Vertically, it was the mound rising out ofthe waters of the primordial sea—but simultaneous-ly, horizontally it was the center of the earth. We asviewers take on now an Olympian view, looking downupon the city from high above. Striking from thispoint of view are the walls, not in their monumen-tality, but in their linearity. The straight walls form aborder between city and countryside. In the Meso-potamian view, within the walls there is order, out-side them is chaos. The countryside is the placewhere enemies, barbarians, animals, and ghosts live,all to be kept out. The walls provide that security,clearly delineating the two spheres.

As the site map shows, there were many city wallsin Babylon, all of them magnificent. The outer de-fenses, forming a large triangle with a perimeter of18 km, were made up of three lines of walls. Theinnermost was 7 m wide and made of sun-driedbrick, and had towers attached to it 44 m apart. Agap of 12 m separated it from the outer two walls,both in baked brick and running adjacent to oneanother. The middle one was 7.8 m wide, the one atthe edge of the moat, 3.3 m.35 The 12 m gap wasfilled up with rubble, probably to the top, so thatHerodotus’s claim that Babylon’s walls were 50 roy-al cubits wide (25 m) and allowed a four-horse char-iot to ride on them was probably not a fantasy. It isno surprise, then, that Babylon’s city walls rankedamong the seven wonders of the ancient world inmost early versions of that list.36

The inner city also had monumental walls, lesselaborate but more symmetrical (fig. 7). The in-scriptions tell us that the outer one was called Nim-it-Enlil “Bulwark of Enlil,” the inner one Imgur-Enlil, “Enlil showed favor.” The archaeological re-mains show that they were 7 m apart, both made ofsun-dried bricks, and respectively 3.7 and 6.5 mwide.37 While less impressive than the outer defens-es, their plan more clearly showed that they delin-eated a place of order. Since the size of the city wasso enormous, that order could extend over the en-tire world, and the four walls suggested the fouredges of the universe. Throughout Mesopotamianhistory totality was expressed by that concept: a tru-ly great king was a “king of the four quarters of theuniverse,”38 but what we translate as quarters theMesopotamians called edges. That Babylon couldbe seen as the entire civilized world is perhaps alsoexpressed by the length of its inner walls. A smallfragment exists of a tablet that originally had a planof Babylon on one of its sides.39 The text on it givesthese dimensions (in nindanu) for the walls:

Upper East wall 450 nindanuLower East wall 250 nindanuUpper West wall 300 nindanuLower West wall 200 nindanu40

In cubits, with 1 nindanu equaling 12 cubits, thisamounts to 5,400, 3,000, 3,600, and 2,400 cubits, atotal of 14,400. That figure is 4 × 3,600, the numberthat the Mesopotamians equated with totality.41

While the individual measures given do not reflectthe archaeological reality, the fact that other sourc-es give the same aggregate length for Babylon’swalls, 1,200 nindanu,42 indicates that the numberhad an importance. Sargon II of Assyria, the build-er of another city, Dur-Sharrukin, stated explicitlythat the measure of the city walls was significant. Inhis case it was 16,280 cubits, which he called “thenumeral of my name,” a reference we unfortunate-ly do not understand.43

The City GatesWalls protect, but they need to be crossed to en-

ter and exit the city. Gates are needed, and theypresent a paradox. They provide access, but theyalso exclude. The last role is especially crucial for

34 Allinger-Csollich 1998.35 Koldewey 1925, 1–6.36 E.g., a second-century B.C. poem by Antipater (Ekschmitt

1984, 9).37 Koldewey 1925, 148–53.38 Oppenheim et al. 1971, 331–2.39 George 1992, 28.

40 George 1992, 135.41 The idea that the combined length of the walls given in

the tablet BM 35385 amounts to four times 3,600 derives fromUnger (1932, 335). I have not found it repeated elsewhere.

42 George 1992, 135–6.43 Van De Mieroop 1999b, 336–7.


how the city interacts with the chaos outside its walls.Gates need to hold back external enemies. On theone hand they breach the security provided by thecity walls, thereby reducing their effectiveness; onthe other hand, gates are great protectors them-selves. The tablet that lists Babylon’s gates providesalmost each one of them with an epithet that high-lights its ability to keep the enemy out.

City Gate: “The Enemy is Abhorrent to it” the UrashGate;

City Gate: “It Hates its Attacker” the Zababa Gate;City Gate: “Ishtar Overthrows its Assailant” the Ishtar

Gate;City Gate: “O Adad, Guard the Life of the Troops!”

the Adad Gate;City Gate: “O Shamash, Make Firm the Foundation

of the Troops!” the Shamash Gate.44

Babylon’s gates were so effective that, accordingto Herodotus and Xenophon, when Cyrus wantedto enter the city, he did not even try to capture them,but instead diverted the water of the Euphrates andmarched his troops through the riverbed. The cu-neiform record does not agree with this story,45 butits existence again shows what an impression thecity made on outsiders.

The gates provided access as well, however, andwith them we can start a more detailed reading ofthe city, with a walk along some of its monuments.Herodotus states that there were 100 gates in Baby-lon, a fantastic figure, as the inner city had onlyeight. The most striking one known to us was in thenorthern wall, the Ishtar gate. It made such an im-pression on the German excavators that they

44 George 1992, 67. 45 Beaulieu 1989, 225–6.

Fig. 7. Partly hypothetical plan of the inner city of Babylon. (After Oates 1986, 148;George 1992, 24)


shipped it in its entirety to Berlin to join the Perga-mon altar and the market gateway from Miletus asmonuments of the accomplishments of the an-cients (fig. 8). What one can see in Iraq today arethe remains of an earlier version, still preserved to aheight of some 12 m. The Ishtar gate was one ofNebuchadnezzar’s favorite projects, and buildinginscriptions state that he rebuilt it several times. Be-fore reaching it, the visitor walked for some 200 min between two high walls on which were represent-ed 120 lions striding forward, molded in bas-reliefand brightly colored on a glazed blue background.At night only the brightly colored bands and ani-mals would have been visible, the blue of the wallsmerging into the dark.46 During the day the glazedbricks of the background wall shone like the stoneof a seal. This calls to mind the passage in the Erra-epic where the god Ishum likens Babylon to “a gem-stone seal on the neck of the sky.”47 Visitors feelsurrounded by the goddess, walking among her lionsymbols confronting them. Then, one faces the gateitself, also colored dark blue. It depicted some 150dragons and bulls, the symbols of the gods Mardukand Adad, protectors of the city. Nebuchadnezzarstates that he also stationed at its sills “fierce bulls

of copper and frenzied dragons,”48 metal statuesmost likely long since plundered by invadingarmies. The paradox of the gate is very strong here.The enemy felt surrounded and confronted by di-vine creatures protecting the city from his attack.On the other hand, the visitor was drawn into thecity, already enveloped by its protective spirit for200 m before entering its gate (fig. 9).

As a means of entrance, the Ishtar gate was im-portant in the annual New Year’s festival. It was thepoint at which the statue of Marduk, which haddwelt in the New Year’s temple outside the walls fora while, reentered the city. Another name for it was“the entrance of kingship”49 and passing throughit reconfirmed the king’s power as it did for Mar-duk. The gate protected a processional way, as Neb-uchadnezzar indicates in an inscription on the sidesof the stone slabs that were used to pave the street.50

On the edge of each slab, unseen to the personwalking over them, was written this text:

Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, son of Nabopolassar,king of Babylon, I am. In the street of Babylon usedfor the procession of the great lord Marduk I madethe road smooth with limestone slabs. May Marduk,my lord, give a long-lasting life.51

46 A member of the audience pointed this out to me whenI lectured at the University of Toronto. I apologize for beingunable to thank him properly by name.

47 Foster 1993, 796.

48 George 1992, 339–40.49 George 1992, 341.50 Koldewey 1925, 25.51 Langdon 1912, 199, no. 30.

Fig. 8. The Ishtar gate as displayed in Berlin. (Photo by the author)


The street itself made progress easy. Its centerwas paved with large white limestone slabs, its sideswith slabs of red breccia veined with white.52 Onceinside the city walls, the street led straight to thecenter of the city where the sanctuary of Mardukwas located.

The PalacesTraveling toward the city center, the first monu-

mental building we encounter is a large royal resi-dential/defensive complex, located on both sidesof the city walls, that Nebuchadnezzar built to con-trol the point at which the Euphrates entered theinner city. The main part is what we now call theSouthern Palace, which stood inside the city wallsand centered around a sequence of five courtyards.One entered the complex from the east, in otherwords from the street beyond the Ishtar gate. Thethrone room was located on the south side of thethird courtyard, its facade decorated with glazedbricks representing lions and stylized trees. Theroom itself was enormous, 52 × 17 m, which “com-pares in size not unfavourably with the Gallery ofMirrors at Versailles (73 × 10.4 m).”53

The Northern Palace, or Hauptburg, was locatedoutside the city walls. The structure is not well

known, as it remains partly unexcavated, but theremains uncovered suggest that it was similar inplan to the Southern Palace and even more luxuri-ous, with fragments of lapis lazuli-colored glazedreliefs and stone floor tiles found in it.54 Nebuchad-nezzar built this palace late in his reign,55 perhapsin imitation of Assyrian palaces, which typically over-lay the city wall as if to indicate their importanceboth to the city and the countryside.56 The Haupt-burg is often thought to have been the royal resi-dence, while the Southern Palace would have beenreserved for official business. Within the NorthernPalace’s ruins were found a number of objects rang-ing from the late third millennium B.C. to Neb-uchadnezzar’s time. Some scholars, especially Eck-hard Unger,57 once thought these artifacts formeda type of museum. Now it seems that this interpre-tation was a figment of the imagination. The ob-jects were not found together, nor were many ofthem visible in the days of Nebuchadnezzar.58 Onthe other hand, the presence of such ancient ob-jects in the Neo-Babylonian palace should not befully discounted as meaningless. They includedwhat might have been war booty: late third-millen-nium statues and an eighth-century relief from theland of Suhu on the middle Euphrates, and early

Fig. 9. Model of the Ishtar gate and processional way. (Photo courtesy of Staatliche Museen zu Berlin)

52 Koldewey 1901.53 Oates 1986, 152.54 Koldewey 1925, 153–67.55 Langdon 1912, 112–21.

56 Van De Mieroop 1999a, 91–2.57 Unger 1931, 224–8.58 Klengel-Brandt 1990.


first-millennium reliefs from northern Syria. Abuilding inscription by king Adad-nirari II (ruled911–891) was brought from the Assyrian capital. Anumber of objects also were recovered from Babylo-nian cities, however. The oldest of these was a weightinscribed with the name of the 21st-century kingShulgi. Some building inscriptions commemorat-ed work in Babylon itself, including by the Assyrianruler Assurbanipal (ruled 668–627) and his broth-er Shamash-shuma-ukin, who governed Babyloniafrom 667 to 648. Inscriptions of Neo-Babylonianbuilding activity in other cities were kept there aswell. The most recent find was a copy of the Bisu-tun inscription left by the Persian ruler Darius inthe early fifth century when the palace was still inuse. This collection can still be regarded as evi-dence of the antiquarian interests of the period.59

The objects came from a wide geographical areaand covered a long time span from the third mil-lennium to the period when the Northern Palacewas in use. Living kings added pieces of great polit-ical significance, such as the Bisutun inscription,to it. The collection tied the kings of the momentto those of the past; while ruling they could seephysical evidence of their predecessors’ existence.It is perhaps then not such a surprise that they triedto establish how long ago these others had lived.The last Neo-Babylonian king, Nabonidus, thoughtthat the Kassite king Shagarakti-Shuriash ruled 800years before him, Hammurabi some 1,500 years, andNaram-Sin 3,200 years. While these numbers arehighly inaccurate, they do show a serious concernon the part of this king to connect his own rule tothat of the rulers of the past.

This palace complex is often mentioned as thepossible location for the famous Hanging Gardensof Babylon,60 another wonder of the ancient world,which is enigmatic in many respects. Berossus, quot-ed by Josephus, states that the gardens were laidout by Nebuchadnezzar in order to please his Me-dian wife, who felt homesick for the mountains; oth-er classical authors, mostly inspired by Ctesias, talkabout them as well. But several prominent classicalsources that describe Babylon, including Herodot-us, fail to mention the gardens altogether, and noarchaeological evidence is known that clearly sug-gests their location. Much ink has flowed (with lit-tle progress) in determining their exact where-abouts in Babylon and the technology used to waterthem. In desperation, perhaps, it has been suggest-

ed by one scholar that they never were in Babylon,but in the Assyrian city of Nineveh.61 This proposalwould take away some of Babylon’s luster, however,and we might persist in looking for them in thatcity, keeping in mind this statement in a recentinvestigation: “Whatever the Hanging Gardens re-ally looked like, there is no basis for the idea, wide-ly current, that the excavators at Babylon have failedto produce any likely site for them.”62

The palace complex was the most prominent sec-ular building in the city. Its location at what seemsto have been one of the crucial access points, theIshtar gate, does indicate that royal power was notabsent in the image of Babylon. Yet the visitor’s at-tention would not be detained long by it. Beyondthe Ishtar gate, the 200 m long facade that linedthe street was interrupted by only one small gate.Access was probably denied to most. Instead thevisitor was urged on to the center of town as theprocessional road continued for at least 800 m withits smoothly paved surface. First a narrow canal wascrossed, called Libil-hengalla, “May it bring abun-dance.” Along the street a number of small tem-ples, to the gods Ninmah, Nabu, and Ishtar of Agadewere located, but it is unclear whether they wouldhave been visible, since some lay at a distance fromthe street, and we do not know whether other build-ings would have blocked the view. Also a domesticquarter was passed; it is called Merkes today and isthe only excavated residential area in Babylon. Thelayout differed from that of the overall city in thatthe plan was less regular and the streets not alwaysstraight. Yet this area was made up of large court-yard houses that are grouped into city blocks andshow a greater uniformity than other residentialneighborhoods known from Mesopotamia.

The Marduk Temple ComplexJust south of the Nabu temple was a gate, the

“Grand Gate,” that indicated the border betweentwo city quarters: the northern Ka-dingirra with itspalace, and the central Eridu. The latter was thereligious center of Babylon. According to the textsit contained 14 temples, including the most im-portant ones of Babylon, the Marduk temple andthe ziggurat (fig. 10). The two were separated by astreet 80 m wide. The Marduk temple, called Es-agila “House whose Top is High”63 was essentially asquare building with a courtyard surrounded byrooms, and two large courts on its eastern side. High

59 Beaulieu 1994.60 E.g., Koldewey 1925.61 Dalley 1994.

62 Reade 2000, 213.63 George 1992, 59.


walls enclosed the complex, and its access was mostlikely restricted to select cult personnel. Its outerwall was pierced with seven gates, protected by stat-ues of dragons, as we know from an inscription ofKing Neriglissar (ruled 559–556), who states thathe placed two dragons each on four of the gates, allmade of copper.64

Similarly, high walls protected the ziggurat calledEtemenanki. Nine gates provided access to its court-yard. The main one, on the eastern side, was set 80 maway from the street deep into a niche flanked byhigh walls surrounding the courtyard. As with theIshtar gate, the visitor would have to walk betweenthese walls, probably also decorated with divine sym-bols, before gaining access, and the same paradoxof exclusion and invitation would be felt here aswell. The ziggurat complex had a large open court-yard (some 350 m2), but it is unclear who was al-

lowed entrance to it. The viewer outside may nothave been able to really appreciate the high struc-ture within it. The ziggurat may only have been ful-ly visible from a distance, from well outside the city.

The New Year’s FestivalThere is no doubt that this area was the center of

the cult and that the religious focus of Babylon washere. Year-round the gods of the pantheon foundtheir home in this central city. The Esagila was the“palace of the gods.”65 The centrality of Marduk’ssanctuary for the entire city and its surroundingsbecame especially prominent during the New Year’sfestival. That festival took place during the first 12days of the month Nisannu, which included thespring equinox, around March 21. The details ofthe festival are relatively well known, since the cer-emonies of days 2–5 are described on two tablets

Fig. 10. Plan of the Marduk temple complex. (After Wetzel and Weissback 1938,pl. 2)

64 George 1992, 85. 65 George 1999a, 69.


from the later Seleucid period, but probably reflectolder practices as well.66 The festival dates back tothe early history of Babylon, however, and probablythe general outline of the ceremonies remainedsimilar over time. New Year festivals also were im-portant in the cultic calendars of other cities, andfrom the third millennium on, a parallel festivaltook place around the autumn equinox.67 Some-times information from the other festivals at Assuror Uruk, for example, helps us to reconstruct theevents in Babylon. There were multiple natural,cosmic, and political aspects to the festival, summedup as follows:

1. an attempt to celebrate or ensure the successof the spring harvest of barley,

2. a patronal festival of the city-god, Marduk, in-cluding his enthronement,

3. a symbolic representation of certain episodesin the Epic of Creation,

4. the marking of the calendrical New Year,5. the affirmation of the king as high priest of

Marduk, owing his kingship to the god: butnot as a substitute for or representative of thegod, and

6. the reception and enthronement of the godNabu.68

I focus here on how the space of Babylon was usedin the ceremonies and how the latter enhanced thearchitectural image of Babylon on a cosmic and po-litical level. While the Marduk temple was the phys-ical center of the festival, two aspects linked it withthe rest of the city and the wider world: the othergods visited Marduk in Babylon; and he traveled withhis entourage outside the city to stay overnight in abuilding called the akitu-house. The voyage was aprocession that presented the visual high point ofthe festival and used the city as its background.

During the festival, gods from all over Babyloniavisited Babylon. Most prominent in the rituals wasthe visit of Marduk’s son, Nabu, who was brought infrom the neighboring city of Borsippa by the king.He arrived with his wife Tashmetum on the fifthday, but had to wait one night at the city gate.69 Oth-er deities arrived as well: Anu from Uruk, Enlil fromNippur, Nergal from Cutha, Zababa from Kish, andso on.70 They were represented by their statues,which were brought to the capital probably by boat,following a tradition that dated back to the third

millennium. The connection between the god ofBabylon and those of other cities was not limited tothe time of the festival alone. Several of the citygates of Babylon were named after the gods whovisited at the time: Ishtar, Zababa, Urash, Shamash,Adad, and Enlil.71 They connected Babylon perma-nently to the dwellings of these deities in othercities, such as Enlil in Nippur, Shamash in Sippar,and so on, like the spokes of a wheel radiating fromthe hub.

The gods’ visit had both a cosmic and a politicalmeaning. In cosmic terms it repeated the gather-ing of the gods described in the Babylonian cre-ation myth. That composition was important in theNew Year’s festival, and it was recited on the eveningof the fourth day. In the story, Marduk defeatedchaos, personified by the sea goddess Tiamat andher demons, and as reward he was granted king-ship of the gods by the assembled deities. Theybuilt the city of Babylon as his royal residence. Therecital of the literary composition reminded theaudience of the beginning of the time when Mar-duk organized the universe, and of the status ofBabylon created then. The original assembly of thegods, as described in the creation myth, took placein a place named ubshu-ukkina (Creation Myth, Tab-let 6, lines 162 and 165). The Sumerian term, notfully clear to us, was given the Akkadian paraphrasekisal puh

˘ ur ili, “the court of the gods’ assembly.”72 As

we have seen for the primordial hill of creation,du6-kù, the specific historical moment became con-tinuous within Babylon’s temple. So we find in theMarduk temple a shrine called ubshu-ukkina,where the gods assemble in perpetuity. It is simul-taneously the place where the great gods estab-lished destiny; the du6-kù acted there as the seat ofthe seven deities who decree fate.73 Three aspectsof time merged together: the specific moment, thecyclical, and the eternal. The specific was the mo-ment at the beginning of time when the gods inassembly decreed the fate of Marduk to becometheir king. The cyclical was the annual repetitionof that event during the New Year’s festival. Theeternal was the constant presence of a divine as-sembly in Marduk’s temple, constantly re-establish-ing the god’s function as king.

Politically, the visit by gods from other cities ofthe state during the New Year’s festival indicated

66 For an English translation of the text, see Sachs 1969.There is a large literature on the akitu-festival, which has notbeen systematically used in the discussion here.

67 Thureau-Dangin 1921, 87.68 Black 1981.

69 Van der Toorn 1991, 335.70 Pongratz-Leisten 1994, 133–6.71 George 1992, 22–3.72 George 1999a, 73.73 George 1999a, 73–4.


Babylon’s role as the capital of a wider territory. Onlythose cities that were under its control would sendstatues, so the presence or absence of a god was ameaningful indication of Babylon’s politicalstrength.74 We can easily imagine that when Nip-pur, for example, was outside Babylon’s control, thegod Enlil did not attend the ceremonies. Anotherpolitical aspect of the gods’ assembly is clear fromthe events at the akitu-house. During their staythere, part of the ritual included the distributionof the previous year’s campaign booty to the assem-bled gods, and a request for predictions about thesuccess of future campaigns.75 The king used theNew Year’s festival as an occasion to provide indi-vidual cults with donations and to obtain the reli-gious and local support for his military plans.

The New Year’s festival took Marduk and his com-panion deities outside his city. They would spendthree nights in the akitu-house, a temple whoseexact location we do not know. A procession withcarefully marked stages took the statues there latein the festival,76 starting inside the temple itself,moving from the cella to the ante-cella and into thecourtyard with rituals at each stop. The statues thencame into public view, moving along the proces-sional road, in between the temple and the ziggu-rat and then northward. This was probably the onlymoment in the year when the general public couldsee the statue of the god Marduk. Unfortunately wedo not know the details of the event, but we canpiece together information using a variety of sourc-es on Babylon and assuming that the processions atother Mesopotamian cities were comparably orga-nized.77 The king probably accompanied the stat-ues, since his role was crucial in the festival, and weknow that without him the akitu-rituals could nottake place.

The visual importance of the event cannot beunderestimated. What was usually invisible to thepublic became visible. Both the temple and thepalace were well-guarded, walled complexes withvery restricted access, and most people were barredfrom them. Thus their only opportunity to see thegod and the king may have been at this time. Mar-duk was accompanied by the gods from other cit-ies, and their voyage through Babylon took place inspecial chariots, which were luxuriantly decorated.

No single well-preserved text describes such a char-iot, but references in fragmentary records are nu-merous. For example, a royal inscription from thesecond half of the second millennium relates thatthe king constructed for the god Enlil a chariot ofdark wood, covered with a variety of semipreciousstones, so that it would shine like the light of dayand the crescent of the new moon.78 Nabu’s chariotwas elsewhere said to be of shining bronze, andwhen Assurbanipal brought Marduk’s statue fromAssur to Babylon he stated that it was covered withgold, silver, and precious stones.79 Seleucid periodtexts from Uruk indicate that the beer brewers ofthat city had obtained the right to pull the chariotof the local god Anu, something that brought greatprestige.80 That the same privilege with Marduk’schariot was sought after at Babylon is clear from aprayer by Nebuchadnezzar81 and other passagesfrom that king’s inscriptions.82

Since war booty was distributed to the gods whenthey spent the night in the akitu-house, it is likelythat it was carried alongside the statues, adding arich visual dimension to the procession. Nebuchad-nezzar mentions that every year he brought “gold,silver, splendid gems, shining sapšu, the bounty ofmountains and seas, the best of all that is good,fattened choice bulls, fine long-fleeced sheep, avariety of fish of the sea and birds of the sky, geese,ducks, wild birds, turtle-doves, gerboas that flour-ish in the swamps, abundant vegetables the delica-cies of gardens, red-gold fruits, abundant produceof the orchards, dates, Dilmun-dates, white figs, rai-sins, beer, honey, butter, sweet cakes, milk, the bestoil, splendid abundance, luxuriant produce, thebest of all lands, countless libations of beer andwine as if it were water.”83

If this was offered during the New Year’s festival,the convoy itself must have been an incredible sight,carrying animals, garden produce, metals, andstones along in wagons. Moreover, the city’s monu-ments probably provided a background for rituals.The inscriptions regarding the Ishtar gate empha-size its position on the processional road, so onewould imagine that some important episode of thefestival occurred there in that stage setting. Thereal Ishtar gate in this sense does not seem that farremoved from D.W. Griffiths’.

74 Pongratz-Leisten 1994, 11.75 Van der Toorn 1991, 333.76 Pongratz-Leisten 1994, 37–84.77 Pongratz-Leisten 1994.78 Zimmern 1906, 153–5. Other very fragmentary manu-

scripts of the text have been published since, but the entirecomposition remains poorly known.

79 Pongratz-Leisten 1994, 193–5.80 Pongratz-Leisten 1994, 4.81 “Let me pull your chariot-pole well into my old age,” Lang-

don 1912, 176 B X 34–5.82 Reiner et al. 1984, 312.83 Langdon 1912, 168 B VII 12–30.


When the procession reached the Euphrates,the divine statues boarded ships that were alsolavishly built. King Nebuchadnezzar boasted thathe had made a boat for Marduk using 14 talentsand 12 mina of red gold (426 kg) and 740 semi-precious stones, so that the ship would shine likea blinking star. He decorated it with the represen-tations of spades and dragons, insignia of Marduk.84

For other deities, similar ships are attested. Oncethe procession left the inner city, it took on largerdimensions. Its aim was to reach the uncultivatedsteppe, far outside the city walls, and by doing so,it turned the entire countryside into a sacred land-scape. As in other ancient cultures, such as Rome,85

natural phenomena were turned into a contextfor the cult. They were tied together in being visit-ed by the procession, and specific features gaineda cultic role.

The fact that the procession left Babylon for thecountryside was very important, as it crossed fromthe world of order into that of chaos. By visiting thecountryside Marduk extended his organizing pow-ers into disorder itself.86 In some texts, Marduk’sboat is said to be the body of Tiamat,87 the sea mon-ster that embodied chaos and whose defeat was thusmade permanent: Marduk repeated his conquestof chaos as depicted in the Babylonian creationmyth. This brings us full circle: the role of the cityas an organizing principle in the universe was alsothe role of its god Marduk, the one who brings or-der to the universe. Both god and city were forcesof order in a world of chaos. The entire layout ofBabylon and the cult that dominated it emphasizedthis message.

Certainly, other visual messages were to be foundin Babylon as well. After all, it was an enormous citywith many neighborhoods. People with various oc-cupations inhabited the city, and undoubtedly spe-cific streets were reserved for some trades: black-smiths, potters, shoemakers, and so on. It was a citywith people from all over the Babylonian empireand beyond: Medes from western Iran, Judeans fromthe Levant, Egyptians, and others, rubbed shoul-ders with Babylonians and other long-term resi-dents of the region. Many still spoke their nativelanguages—“a confusion of tongues”—and proba-bly wore their distinctive dress. City quarters withpeople of diverse origins existed, each with theirown atmosphere, smells, and sounds. This is a Baby-lon we can only imagine.

eternal babylonThe city of Babylon contained a myriad of signs

to the visitor, but one message seems to have beendominant: it was the place of order in a world ofchaos. Simultaneously, while it was clearly delineat-ed by its straight walls, meticulously protected, itwas an organizing principle for the entire universe.On a vertical axis it tied all the levels of the uni-verse together as a large post in its center. On ahorizontal axis, with its size and its widespread con-tacts, it extended that order throughout the regionsof the world. Physical dimensions were reformulat-ed. Babylon was limited, but at the same time it waslimitless: by itself, it was the entire universe. Its ownrole as a microcosm reflecting the entire cosmoswas repeated by the temple at its heart. Marduk’ssanctuary, as clearly delineated as the city itself, wasan entire universe on its own, housing all the gods,representing universal order. At an even smallerlevel, all of the functions of Babylon as a whole couldbe embodied in one cult platform only, the du6-kùthat was the eternal place of creation.

The role of Babylon as being both enclosed andopen was made possible by its gates, which, para-doxically, gave access but also denied it. The gatesof Babylon protected against invaders, but also cre-ated connections to other cities. In this respect aswell, the entire city and one of its parts had exactlythe same function. The gates were among the mostprominent architectural features of the city. But theentire city was also a gate as its name tells us: Baby-lon is Bab-ili, the gate of the gods. While the originof the city name was probably very different, fromthe late third millennium on the idea that it wasthe gods’ gate was commonly accepted. When thename of the city was rendered in Sumerian, thewords used stated “Gate of the gods,” Ká-dingirra.88

In Mesopotamia, the name was not accidental tothe named: it revealed the true identity. So thosewho heard the name of Babylon heard a messageon the city’s true role as the gate through which thegods came to bring their benefits to the humanworld. They came through Babylon, just as at thetime of creation when they had asked Marduk toorganize the world.

The city constantly played this role by its sheerphysicality and by its name. The time of creationwas constantly repeated in it, and time itself wasreformulated in it. And creation to the Mesopota-mians was organization, the bringing of order. Mar-

84 Pongratz-Leisten 1994, 78.85 Cancik 1985–1986.86 Pongratz-Leisten 1994, 78.

87 Reiner et al. 1999, 410a.88 For a survey of the city’s name in Sumerian and Akkadian,

see George 1992, 253–6.


duk had done this by defeating Chaos as repre-sented by Tiamat. That work was constant, however;it never ended. The city continued to defeat chaos,through it the gods continued to select Marduk asthe one who fulfilled this role. The cosmic impor-tance was so great that no mortal could be responsi-ble for it; it was a task for the gods. Babylon, found-ed at the time of creation, was a pivot of the uni-verse, a fortress that kept chaos at bay. All mortalscould do was to help the city in perpetuating itsbeneficial role, by carefully repairing the damagedone to individual buildings. The emphasis wasnot on innovation, but on a careful copying of theold. The kings realized that temples like the Esagi-la dated back to very early times and were carefulnot to alter their plan, but to follow the ancientfoundations. The Assyrian king Esarhaddon, whorebuilt Babylon after the violent destruction his fa-ther wrought, stated: “I laid its foundation platformdirectly on top of its ancient footings, according toits original plan: I did not fall short by one cubit,nor did I overshoot by half a cubit.” Some 120 yearslater the Babylonian Nabonidus said: “As a facsimi-le of its blueprint I drew up its plan [...] I measuredits dimensions [with] the large aslu cubit-standard,according to its ancient designs.”89

When looking at Babylon, one saw how the worldbenefited from its existence: as the place of origi-nal creation it continued to bring order forever.This plan was visible from afar when looking at theentire city, and nearby when looking at its details. Itwas revealed in its festivals, ephemeral ceremoniesthat were repeated every year and tied the entirecultic year together. That message would have beenpresented loud and clear to all who saw Babylonand understood the cosmology that inspired it.Even the Biblical authors may have perceived this,and turned the message around: while the Babylo-nians sought to establish order, God punished themwith confusion. The Greeks seem to have missedthe message, however. They could only marvel at,or disapprove of, Babylon’s enormous size.

Today we can no longer see that city as it was inthe sixth century B.C. Only ruins remain, massivein the surface they cover but paltry when comparedto what the buildings originally were. Modern re-constructions and archaeologists’ plans add somesubstance, but cannot recreate the city. Yet readingthe traces carefully in conjunction with the state-ments of those who saw the city (or had heard aboutit from people who did) allows us to uncover some

of its original message. Neither record is superiorto the other: the archaeological remains seem tooscanty, the ancient testimonies too muddled byhyperbole and misunderstanding. But jointly theylead us to understand the ideological role of Baby-lon, especially its relationship to order and creation.Other ancient cities may reveal their own messageto us if we read the textual and archaeological evi-dence together, as we did here for Babylon.

603 kent hallcolumbia universitynew york, new york [email protected]

Works Cited

Albrecht, S. 1999. “Der Turm zu Babel als bildlicher My-thos: Malerei-Graphik-Architektur.” In Babylon: Focusmesopotamischer Geschichte, Wiege früher Gelehrsamkeit,Mythos in der Moderne, edited by J. Renger, 553–74. Saar-brücken: SDV Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag.

Allinger-Csollich, W. 1998. “Birs Nimrud II: ‘Tieftempel’– ‘Hochtempel’. Vergleichende Studien Borsippa –Babylon.” BaM 29:93–330.

Al-Rawi, F. 1985. “Nabopolassar’s Restoration Work onthe Wall Imgur-Enlil at Babylon.” Iraq 47:1–14.

Barthes, R. 1988. “Semiology and Urbanism.” In The Semi-otic Challenge, 191–201. New York: Hill and Wang.

Beaulieu, P.-A. 1989. The Reign of Nabonidus, King of Baby-lon 556–539 B.C. New Haven: Yale University Press.

———. 1994. “Antiquarianism and the Concern for thePast in the Neo-Babylonian Period.” Bulletin of theCanadian Society for Mesopotamia Studies 28:37–42.

Berger, P.-R. 1970. “Das Neujahrfest nach den Königsin-schriften des ausgehenden babylonischen Reiches.”In Actes de la XVII e Rencontre Assyriologique Internation-ale, edited by A. Finet, 155–9. Ham-sur-Heure: Co-mité belge de recherches en Mésopotamie.

Black, J. 1981. “The New Year Ceremonies in AncientBabylon:‘Taking Bel by the Hand’ and a Cultic Pic-nic.” Religion 11:39–59.

———. 1998. Reading Sumerian Poetry. London: Athelone.Boncquet, J. 1987. Diodorus Siculus (II, 1–34) over Meso-

potamië: Een historische Kommentaar. Brussel: KoninklijkeAcademie voor Wetenschappen, Letteren en SchoneKunsten van België.

Cancik, H. 1985–1986. “Rome as Sacred Landscape.”Visible Religion 4–5:250–61.

Dalley, S. 1994. “Nineveh, Babylon and the HangingGardens: Cuneiform and Classical Sources Recon-ciled.” Iraq 6:45–58.

———. 1996. “Herodotos and Babylon.” OLZ 91:525–32.de Certeau, M. 2000. The Certeau Reader. Edited by G.

Ward. Oxford: Blackwell.Eco, U. 1972. La structure absente: Introduction à la recher-

che sémiotique. Paris: Mercure de France.

89 George 1992, 123.


Ekschmitt, W. 1984. Die sieben Weltwunder. Mainz: Philippvon Zabern.

Favro, D. 1996. The Urban Image of Augustan Rome. NewYork: Cambridge University Press.

Foster, B.R. 1993. Before the Muses: An Anthology of Akkadi-an Literature. Bethesda: CDL.

George, A.R. 1992. Babylonian Topographical Texts. Lou-vain: Uitgeverij Peeters.

———. 1997. “‘Bond of the Lands’: Babylon, the Cos-mic Capital.” In Die Orientalische Stadt: Kontinuität,Wandel, Bruch, edited by G. Wilhelm, 125–45. Saar-brücken: SDV.

———. 1999a. “E-sangil and E-temen-anki, the Arche-typal Cult-Centre.” In Babylon: Focus mesopotamischerGeschichte, Wiege früher Gelehrsamkeit, Mythos in der Mod-erne, edited by J. Renger, 67–86. Saarbrücken: SDV.

———. 1999b. Review of The Ancient Mesopotamian City,by M. Van De Mieroop, BSOAS 62:550–2.

Haas, V. 1999. “Die literarische Rezeption Babylonsvon der Antike bis zur Gegenwart.” In Babylon: Focusmesopotamischer Geschichte, Wiege früher Gelehrsamkeit,Mythos in der Moderne, edited by J. Renger, 523–52.Saarbrücken: SDV.

Horowitz, W. 1998. Babylonian Cosmic Geography. WinonaLake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns.

Jakob-Rost, L. 1984. “Zur Zikkurat von Babylon.” FuB24:59–62.

Klengel-Brandt, E. 1990. “Gab es ein Museum in derHauptburg Nebukadnezars II. in Babylon?” FuB28:41–6.

Koldewey, R. 1901. Die Pflastersteine von Aiburshabu inBabylon. Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs.

———. 1925. Das wieder erstehende Babylon. 4th ed. Leipzig:J.C. Hinrichs.

Langdon, S. 1912. Die neubabylonischen Königsinschriften.Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs.

Luckenbill, D.D. 1924. The Annals of Sennacherib. OIP 2.Chicago: The Oriental Institute.

Lynch, K. 1960. The Image of the City. Cambridge, Mass.:M.I.T. Press.

Maul, S.M. 1997. “Die altorientalische Hauptstadt - Ab-bild und Nabel der Welt.” In Die Orientalische Stadt:Kontinuität, Wandel, Bruch, edited by G. Wilhelm, 109–24. Saarbrücken: SDV.

Miglus, P.A. 1999. “Das neue Babylon der Sargoniden.”In Babylon: Focus mesopotamischer Geschichte, Wiege früherGelehrsamkeit, Mythos in der Moderne, edited by J. Renger,281–96. Saarbrücken: SDV.

Minkowski, H. 1960. Aus dem Nebel der Vergangenheit steigtder Turm zu Babel: Bilder aus 1000 Jahren. Berlin: Rem-brandt-Verlag.

Nagel, W., and E. Strommenger. 1978–1979. “Altorien-talische Städte - von der Dorfkultur zur Hochkulturseit Habubah bis Babylon.” Kölner Jahrbuch für Vor-und Frühgeschichte 16:61–75.

Nesselrath, H.-G. 1999. “Herodot und Babylon. DerHauptort Mesopotamiens in den Augen eines Griech-en des 5. Jh.s v. Chr.” In Babylon: Focus mesopotamischerGeschichte, Wiege früher Gelehrsamkeit, Mythos in der Mod-

erne, edited by J. Renger, 189–206. Saarbrücken: SDV.Novák, M. 1999. Herrschaftsform und Stadtbaukunst. Saar-

brücken: SDV.Oates, J. 1986. Babylon. London: Thames and Hudson.Oppenheim, A.L., et al. 1971. CAD K. Chicago: The Ori-

ental Institute.Pongratz-Leisten, B. 1994. Ina Šulmi irub. Baghdader

Forschungen 16. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern.Rackham, H. 1977. Aristotle: Politics. Cambridge: Harvard

University Press.Reade, J. 2000. “Alexander the Great and the Hanging

Gardens of Babylon.” Iraq 62:195–217.Reiner, E., et al. 1984. CAD S. Chicago: The Oriental

Institute.———. 1999. CAD R. Chicago: The Oriental Institute.Rollinger, R. 1993. Herodots babylonischer Logos: Eine kritische

Untersuchung der Glaubwürdigkeitsdiskussion. Innsbruck-er Beiträge zur Kulturwissenschaft, Sonderheft 84.

———. 1999. “Babylon.” Der Neue Pauly. Enzyklopädie derAntike. Rezeptions- und Wissenschaftsgeschichte Band13:371–82.

Sachs, A. 1969. “Temple Program at the New Year’s Fes-tival at Babylon.” In Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relatingto the Old Testament, edited by J.B. Pritchard, 331–4.Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Thureau-Dangin, F. 1921. Rituels accadiens. Paris: ErnestLeroux.

Unger, E. 1931. Babylon: Die heilige Stadt nach der Beschrei-bung der Babylonier. Berlin and Leipzig: Walter deGruyter.

———. 1932. “Babylon.” RLA 1:330–69. Berlin andLeipzig: Walter de Gruyter.

Van De Mieroop, M. 1999a. The Ancient MesopotamianCity. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

———. 1999b. “Literature and Political Discourse inAncient Mesopotamia: Sargon II of Assyria and Sar-gon of Agade.” In Munuscula Mesopotamica: Festschriftfür Johannes Renger, edited by B. Böck, E. Cancik-Kirschbaum, and T. Richter, 327–39. Münster:Ugarit-Verlag.

Van der Toorn, K. 1991. “The Babylonian New Year Fes-tival: New Insights from the Cuneiform Texts and TheirBearing on Old Testament Study.” Congress Volume.Leuven 1989. Suppl. to Vetus Testamentum XLIII, edit-ed by J.A. Emerton, 331–44. Leiden: E.J. Brill.

Vicari, J. 1986. “Nouvelle image de la tour de Babel.” LaBabylonie. DossPar 103:44–7.

Wetzel, F., and F.H. Weissbach. 1938. Das Hauptheiligtumdes Marduk in Babylon, Esagila und Etemenanki (WV-DOG 59). Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs.

Wiseman, D.J. 1985. Nebuchadrezzar and Babylon. Oxford:Oxford University Press.

Wissowa, G., ed. 1896. Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der classis-chen Altertumswissenschaft Band II/2. Stuttgart: AlfredDruckmüller.

Zimmern, H. 1906. “Zum babylonischen Neujahrsfest.”Berichte über die Verhandlungen der königlich sächsischenGesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Leipzig. Philologisch-Historische Klasse, 58:126–56.

American Journal of Archaeology 107 (2003)277

The 104th Annual Meeting of the Archaeological Institute of America was held in conjunction with the134th Annual Meeting of the American Philological Association in New Orleans, Louisiana, on 3–6 January2003.

On 5 January, Nancy C. Wilkie, President, presented the Institute’s 38th annual Gold Medal Award forDistinguished Archaeological Achievement to Philip Betancourt and the seventh annual Excellence inUndergraduate Teaching Award to David W. McCreery of Willamette University. Anna Marguerite McCannpresented the Martha and Artemis Joukowsky Distinguished Service Award to Gertrude Howland. Jane C.Waldbaum, First Vice President, presented the 22nd annual Pomerance Award for Scientific Contributionsto Archaeology to Peter Ian Kuniholm. Naomi J. Norman, Vice President for Publications, presented the 14thannual James R. Wiseman Book Award to Cyprian Broodbank for An Island Archaeology of the Early Cyclades(Cambridge 2001). Ricardo J. Elia, Vice President for Professional Responsibilities, presented the Outstand-ing Public Service Award to Lyndel Prott. The texts of these award citations are printed below.

On 4 January, at the 124th Meeting of Council, the following were elected to the Institute’s Governing Board:Jane C. Waldbaum, President; C. Brian Rose, First Vice President; Malcolm Bell, III, Vice President for Profes-sional Responsibilities; Susan Kane, Vice President for Publications; Cameron J. Walker; Vice President forSocieties; Elie Abemayor, Charles La Follette, Dorinda Oliver, Paul Rissman, and Michael Wiseman, GeneralTrustees (three-year terms); Robyn Webby, General Trustee (one-year term); John McK. Camp II, MichaelCosmopoulos, and Wendy Ashmore, Academic Trustees (three-year terms); Alexandra Cleworth and KathleenDonahue Sherwood, Society Trustees (three-year terms). Elizabeth Bartman, Anne Salisbury, Harrison “Nick”Eiteljorg, II, and Ellen Herscher were elected to the Nominating Committee (one-year term). The Outstand-ing Local Society Prize was presented at the Meeting of Council to the Orange County Society.

On 4–6 January, 244 papers were delivered in 51 sessions. The 104th Annual Meeting Abstracts (Boston2002), containing abstracts of these papers, of the Poster Session, and of the Colloquia and Workshops, isavailable online or in print; see the Publications section of the Archaeological Institute of America’s Web site(www.archaeological.org) or contact the Institute for more information. Twelve Roundtable Discussions werealso held: The Role of Food and Drink in Ancient Religion; Getting a Job: Career Strategies for ArchaeologyGraduate Students; Considerations of Archaeological Tourism; Pondering the Past: Why Archaeology Mat-ters; Getting Back to the Source: Useful and Unusual Readings for Teaching Classical Mythology; Greek:Teaching Programs, Readers, Techniques, and Web Resources; Greek Language Programs; Initial GreekReaders; Techniques in Teaching the Language; Web Resources for Greek Language Teachers and Stu-dents; Library Careers for Classicists; NEH Funding Opportunities for Classicists and Archaeologists.

The 104th Annual Meeting of theArchaeological Institute of America

ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICA278 [AJA 107

ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICA GOLD MEDAL AWARD FORDISTINGUISHED ARCHAEOLOGICAL ACHIEVEMENT

PHILIP P. BETANCOURT

Philip P. Betancourt gets things done. While serving as the Laura H. Carnell Professor of Art History andArchaeology at Temple University, where he has taught since 1970, he also has held the position of AdjunctProfessor in the Department of the History of Art at the University of Pennsylvania, and he has served asActing Dean in the Tyler School of Art of Temple University (1983–1984). In addition, since 1990 he hasserved as the Executive Director of the Institute for Aegean Prehistory.

His excavation experience began in the United States with work at various sites under the auspices of theUniversity of Missouri and the National Park Service. Thereafter, two field seasons in Italy and a summer atHalieis in Greece preceded his move to Crete, which has been the focus of his research since 1976.

Philip Betancourt has been the author and/or editor of an extensive series of books and other scholarlypublications, which since 1965 has grown to number well over 100. Early studies include The Aeolic Style inArchitecture: A Survey of Its Development in Palestine, the Halikarnassos Peninsula and Greece, 1000–500 B.C. (Princeton1977), Vasilike Ware: An Early Bronze Age Pottery Style in Crete (Göteborg, Sweden 1979), and East Cretan White-on-Dark Ware: Studies on a Handmade Pottery of the Early to Middle Bronze Age (Philadelphia 1984). For his basichandbook on The History of Minoan Pottery (Princeton 1985), he not only wrote the text but also took all of thephotographs himself, working directly from the showcases in the Heraklion Museum. During the same timeperiod he edited 10 volumes in the annual series of the Temple University Aegean Symposium (1976–1985) andwrote numerous monographs and journal articles.

He is now completing a series of final reports on his excavations at a number of Minoan sites on Crete,which he began in 1985. To date five volumes on Pseira are published (1995–2001) as well as a multimediaCD-ROM presentation of the site. Chrysokamino has been accepted for publication, Haghia Photia is in theworks, and a second excavation season, in 2003, is planned at the new site of Haghios Charalambos. From thisrecord it is clear that we can look forward to many more years of excavation and publication from PhilipBetancourt.

But this is only the beginning. Everyone who has had the privilege of working with Philip Betancourt in thefield realizes that what sets him apart from all of his colleagues is his dedication to the art of teaching, in thefield as well as in the classroom. Every Betancourt field project is a training excavation. All of his studentslearn how to do things themselves. Although he instructs and gives guidance and encouragement, in the endit is his students who must produce the final product on their own. This holds for training in all aspects ofcontemporary fieldwork, both traditional methodology and modern scientific technology. Through his ef-forts and dedication Philip Betancourt is producing students who are qualified to deal with all aspects ofAegean archaeology as it will be practiced in the third millennium A.D.

The Archaeological Institute of America has had, from its founding in 1879, a dual commitment to thepromotion of both research and teaching, involving all aspects of that complicated academic enigma that wecall archaeology. Today we honor this commitment to its fullest extent by awarding to Professor Philip P.Betancourt the Institute’s Gold Medal for Distinguished Archaeological Achievement.

2003 ANNUAL AWARDS 2792003]

ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICA POMERANCE AWARDFOR SCIENTIFIC CONTRIBUTIONS TO ARCHAEOLOGY

PETER IAN KUNIHOLM

The AIA is pleased to present the Pomerance Award for Scientific Contributions to Archaeology to Profes-sor Peter Ian Kuniholm, director of the Malcolm and Carolyn Wiener Laboratory for Aegean and Near East-ern Dendrochronology at Cornell University. The focus of the laboratory, organized and led by Kuniholm for30 years, has been the building of long tree-ring chronologies for the eastern half of the Mediterranean fromthe Neolithic to the present. Over 10 million tree-ring measurements have led to the successful compilationof chronologies spanning, but not wholly covering, 9,000 years. At first studies concentrated on the Iron Ageperiod of Turkey using conifers; now partial chronologies have been constructed using samples from sevenspecies of trees spread over the eastern Mediterranean from Georgia near the Caucasus to Italy and fromCyprus and Lebanon to the former Yugoslavia and parts of Bulgaria.

Kuniholm has pioneered the cross-dating of wood over considerable distances, not only establishing datesfor microclimatic zones, but also leading to evidence for macroclimatic patterns. He also uses instrumentalneutron activation analysis (INAA) of trace elements to more accurately date volcanic eruptions based onsampling of a single tree ring and correlating an increase in gold concentration caused by the eruption. Toaccomplish this, he focused on careful collection of wood samples, full documentation of archaeologicalcontext, and the preparation and measurement of samples using standardized protocols. Many CornellUniversity undergraduates and graduate students have been trained in his laboratory in the scientific mea-surements necessary for reliable dendrochronology. He and his students have dated tomb and buildingtimbers, fishing gear and shipwrecked hulls, Ottoman monuments, panel paintings, charcoal, and icons. Theresults have been communicated faithfully and promptly in yearly reports and in an active, user-friendly Website. His Web site has 145,000 hits annually, this year from 72 countries. Kuniholm has produced many reviewarticles, special topical articles, and appendices in archaeological reports, totaling almost 100 peer-reviewedpapers. In addition, Kuniholm has contributed major chapters and encyclopedia entries on dendrochronol-ogy and other applications of tree-ring studies in archaeology.

Recently, Kuniholm investigated dendrochronological evidence for climate change and found remarkablystable conditions over millennia, with the extremes of previous warm periods matching those of our presenttime. He has addressed questions of forestation, volcanic activity, statistical analysis, the sharing of data amonglaboratories, and the cross-comparison of tree-ring dates with radiocarbon dates. The laboratory’s activitiesare now broadening to include projects centered in Europe and North America.

Kuniholm has transmitted to his students the discipline and excitement of field research. For instance, his2001 Progress Report states that with three students, “14,500 kilometers of driving in the summer of 2001produced 395 sets of samples from 43 sites in Italy, Greece and Turkey, with promises of more to come.” Inaddition to providing site-specific dates, Kuniholm emphasizes long-term testing of microclimatic modelsthat refine the chronology by adjustments for variable lengths of growing seasons and the relationship tocarbon uptake, as reported recently in the journal Science.

Kuniholm is indeed the proselytizer for dendrochronology, a distinguished and enthusiastic teacher ofarchaeological science, and a scholar who has contributed to many of the hot topics in environmental, land-scape, and site-based archaeology. He has certainly become a spokesman for the integration of science andarchaeology.


ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICA MARTHA AND ARTEMISJOUKOWSKY DISTINGUISHED SERVICE AWARD

GERTRUDE HOWLAND

The Martha and Artemis Joukowsky Distinguished Service Award of the Archaeological Institute of Americarecognizes volunteers who have furthered the work of the Institute and have improved its effectivenessthrough their sustained exceptional service. The Institute is very pleased to present this year’s award toGertrude duPont Howland in recognition of her many years of service as trustee on the national board as wellas her many contributions to her local AIA societies. Gertrude exemplifies such service and has been apioneer in establishing new directions for the AIA. She first became an AIA trustee in 1968 and served until1970. But Gertrude is especially distinguished as our first Society Trustee, a position she held from 1984through 1990. This position was created particularly to address the needs of our lay membership in our now102 local societies and to link the local chapters more closely to the national organization. Gertrude laid sucha firm foundation for this position that in 1993 the AIA designated a Vice President for Societies, an impor-tant part of our organization today.

While a trustee, Gertrude also had the vision to establish our first book award in 1989, the James R.Wiseman Book Award, which continues to bring prestige to the Institute. As chairman of the Tours Commit-tee in 1988–1989, she further developed this area of outreach. In addition, she served on the Developmentand Membership Committees. Gertrude is further distinguished as being one of our oldest members stillactively involved, and at age 92, the oldest to receive this award. Her continued enthusiasm for archaeology,her sense of service, and her generosity both to archaeology and to the AIA over the years are an inspirationto us all.

But Gertrude is much more than a volunteer archaeologist. She has achieved for herself a reputation as aninternational conservator, specializing in the restoration of ancient pottery. She has worked for 32 seasons onnine different archaeological sites from Majorca to Jerusalem. Gertrude began her long career in conserva-tion in 1965 with Ross Holloway from Brown University, who was then working on an excavation in the Athe-nian Agora. She worked with him several more seasons in southern Italy at Satrianum and at Buccino, whereher work is still exhibited in the local museum. From Italy she went to Jerusalem and restored the potteryfrom Ashdod, later returning to Italy to work at Cosa. She spent three seasons at Split with Sheila McNally,three seasons in Sardinia with Miriam Balmuth, and 14 seasons in Majorca, Spain with Dan Woods, working onmaterial from Pollentia. She also helped establish the local museum there where her work is exhibited.

Throughout her career Gertrude also found time to be active in her local AIA society, first in Greenwich,Connecticut and since 1990, in Richmond, Virginia, the city where she was born. She has served as presidentof the Richmond Society, and she is currently the Hospitality Chairman and a board member. Many speakerslecturing in Richmond have enjoyed her gracious southern hospitality.

On the personal side, Gertrude has raised three sons and worked for 50 years contributing to the civic lifeof Greenwich. In recognition of these accomplishments, the Greenwich public library published a bookabout her civic work entitled Missions Accomplished.

Gertrude duPont Howland is unique. The Institute is delighted today to recognize her unique and gener-ous contributions. She has enriched our organization as our first Society Trustee. Through her vision, dedi-cation, and enthusiasm she laid the groundwork for this important position. Gertrude’s innate social anddiplomatic skills and sense of fun have made the AIA a warmer, more hospitable, and effective organization.Working with local societies, she helped establish as part of the annual meeting the hospitality we all nowenjoy with informal places to gather, have refreshments, and go on guided tours to local sites. I do not believethat Gertrude has ever missed an annual meeting. Her many friends over the years are delighted that she isreceiving the AIA’s Distinguished Service Award today.


ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICAEXCELLENCE IN UNDERGRADUATE TEACHING AWARD

DAVID WARREN MCCREERY

It is with great pleasure that the Archaeological Institute of America names Professor David Warren McCreeryas the winner of the Award for Excellence in Undergraduate Teaching for 2003. Professor David WarrenMcCreery is a specialist in the Early Bronze Age archaeology of the Near East with an emphasis onpalaeoethnobotany and early agricultural practice. He has worked in Cyprus and Jordan since 1975, and heis currently the co-director of the Tell Nimrin excavations, a position he has held for the past 13 years.

After receiving his Ph.D. from the University of Pittsburgh, he continued to study at universities in Geneva,Leiden, Zurich, Heidelberg, and Edinburgh. He then moved on to Amman, Jordan, to become the Directorof the American Center of Oriental Research from 1981 to 1988. In 1988 he joined the faculty of WillametteUniversity in Salem, Oregon, where he is a professor in the Department of Religion.

Among his many professional contributions, Professor McCreery has been active in several organizations,including the American Schools of Oriental Research, the American Center of Oriental Research, and theAIA. He has been the president of the Salem Society of the AIA since 1997.

The Undergraduate Teaching Award Committee chose Professor McCreery for this award from a field ofoutstanding candidates based on his record of undergraduate teaching at Willamette University. His nomina-tion was accompanied by an unusual number of supporting letters from administrators, colleagues, andstudents familiar with his teaching. These letters document, to quote from his nomination, his “strong com-mitment to quality undergraduate education in a small liberal arts school where he distinguishes himself asan educator by consciously integrating his own research and the most current research of others into coursedevelopment and classroom teaching, and as a result encourages and inspires young undergraduate scholarsto pursue archaeology and to contribute to the enhancement of the discipline.”

Professor McCreery offers a two-semester sequence in archaeology every year (with an emphasis on Syro-Palestinian archaeology) as well as courses in religion, Hebrew, and archaeological methods. He also con-ducts a campus dig and takes students with him to his excavations in Jordan. He emphasizes hands-ontraining in field techniques and laboratory work. Students stress his “innovative teaching methods, includingoral final examinations, writing-centered projects, and laboratory training in the analysis of soil samples(among other things).” They find his courses to be “challenging, interesting, and exciting.”

In addition to being described as committed and innovative, David McCreery is also described as “kind,”“attracting the best students,” and “stimulating students to think in new ways.” His courses are characterizedas “legendary.” He has been known to conduct excavations on the Willamette campus where students exca-vate the “ancient buildings” belonging to the university. Once he led his students in discovering forgotten19th-century time capsules, providing them with, in the words of one writer, an “unforgettable taste of theexcitement of discovery in archaeology.”

Students are unanimous in their praise. One letter informs us that to explain why Professor McCreeryshould win this award was like being asked “to explain in 500 words or less why Michelangelo is a great artist. . . there are too many wonderful things to say!” He embodies, we are told, the “special Willamette spirit ofcaring, competence, creativity, and compassion.” Professor McCreery is also characterized as a “catalyst forinterest” in archaeology for the larger community. As the enthusiastic president of the Salem AIA society, heoversees a program with up to 13 events per year that attract an average attendance of more than 100 peoplefor each session.

In short, it is abundantly clear that Professor McCreery is the kind of teacher who has made the disciplineof archaeology “come alive” for generations of undergraduate students. The final word best comes from oneof the letters of support, where the writer says, “I look with some envy at the courses he has taught and theexcavations he has directed . . . sometimes one would like to turn the clock back and be an undergraduateagain oneself, just to experience the sudden enthusiasm that comes from being in the presence of a personof rare knowledge who possesses the capacity and desire to share his understanding with others as DavidMcCreery does in every avenue of his professional life.”


ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICAJAMES R. WISEMAN BOOK AWARD

CYPRIAN BROODBANK

The Archaeological Institute of America is pleased to present the 2003 James R. Wiseman Book Award toCyprian Broodbank for An Island Archaeology of the Early Cyclades (Cambridge and New York 2001).

Broodbank’s analysis of the human presence and activities in the prehistoric Cycladic islands combinesarchaeological, environmental, and geographic data in innovative and often unexpected ways. Starting withthe landings of the earliest seafarers, An Island Archaeology of the Early Cyclades takes the lacunose archaeologi-cal and environmental data and poses new questions to explain how these islands interacted among them-selves and eventually integrated into the network of the wider Aegean world.

The book is informed, but not straitjacketed, by theories and models of island archaeology developed inother archipelagoes, and its well-structured archaeological analyses seamlessly blend into the larger cultural,historical, and theoretical picture.

Most importantly, Broodbank has sailed these shores, looked out over these hills, and discerned the sight-lines that are so important for the development of Cycladic contacts. He has a real sense of place, and is ableto bring that immediacy to his lucidly presented analyses, allowing his readers a truly new perspective.

An Island Archaeology of the Early Cyclades will determine the direction of research in the Aegean islands foryears to come.

ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICAOUTSTANDING LOCAL SOCIETY PRIZE

ORANGE COUNTY SOCIETY

The Local Society Prize Committee is pleased to award the 2003 Local Society Prize to the Orange CountySociety. The Orange County Society will receive $1,000.

The Orange County Society is commended for the quantity and variety of its well-planned activities. Be-sides hosting a regular series of lectures and interesting field trips, the Society has instituted a yearly AncientWriting Workshop. The fall 2001 workshop, entitled “Learn to Write Cuneiform!,” attracted society members,Orange County residents, and teachers. The Ancient Writing Workshop, after just two years of implementa-tion, is proving to be not only a highly effective venue for educational outreach but also the Orange CountySociety’s best fund-raiser.

Founded in 1992, the Orange County Society has achieved significant membership numbers and retaineda large group of actively involved board participants. The Society has done an excellent job of promoting theobjectives of the Archaeological Institute of America.


ARCHAEOLOGICAL INSTITUTE OF AMERICAOUTSTANDING PUBLIC SERVICE AWARD

LYNDEL PROTT

Since 2001, Lyndel Prott has been the Director of UNESCO’s Division of Cultural Heritage, which carriesout projects to protect the world’s cultural heritage, including the safeguarding of archaeological sites andmonuments and the strengthening of museum operations. Before her promotion to Director in 2001, Dr.Prott headed the Division’s International Standards Unit, which is responsible for the legal protection of thecultural heritage, and which provides the Secretariat for the UNESCO Intergovernmental Committee forPromoting the Return of Cultural Property to Its Countries of Origin or Its Restitution in Case of IllicitAppropriation.

Dr. Prott received a Dr. Juris from the University of Tübingen, Licence spèciale en Droit international fromThe Brussels Free University, and a B.A. and LL.B. from the University of Sydney. From 1991 to 1996, she helda Personal Chair in Cultural Heritage Law at the University of Sydney; she has held academic positions atSyracuse University, The Hague Academy of International Law, and Stanford University; and she has acted asa legal consultant to UNESCO, ICOM, the Council of Europe, and the Commonwealth of Australia. Amongthe many honors Dr. Prott has received is Officer of the Order of Australia.

She is the author of more than 150 publications in the fields of law and the cultural heritage, jurispru-dence, and international and comparative law. Her books include the major, multi-volume work, Law and theCultural Heritage, written with her husband Patrick O’Keefe, and the Commentary on the UNIDROIT Convention.

A tireless proponent of the protection and return of displaced cultural property, Dr. Prott was a member ofthe UNIDROIT Study Group on the International Protection of Cultural Property and helped promote theadoption of the UNIDROIT Convention on Stolen or Illegally Exported Cultural Objects (1995). She hassought and won additional State Parties to the 1970 UNESCO Convention on the Means of Prohibiting andPreventing the Illicit Import, Export and Transfer of Ownership of Cultural Property. Recently, she wasinstrumental in the successful effort to adopt the UNESCO Convention on the Protection of the UnderwaterCultural Heritage (2001).

In connection with the 1995 New York symposium, “The Spoils of War,” Dr. Prott proposed eight “Prin-ciples for the Resolution of Disputes concerning Cultural Heritage Displaced during the Second WorldWar.” Since that time, these principles have been used by governments in negotiations for returns.

Lyndel Prott is one of the most intelligent, energetic, and effective forces in the world today campaigningfor the protection of the archaeological and cultural heritage of the world’s peoples. The year 2003 marks the20th anniversary of the United States’ implementation of the 1970 UNESCO Convention. It is especiallyappropriate that in 2003 the Archaeological Institute of America has chosen to honor Dr. Lyndel Prott with itsaward for outstanding public service.

285

BOOK REVIEWS

The Lie Became Great: The Forgery of AncientNear Eastern Cultures, by Oscar WhiteMuscarella. (Studies in the Art and Archaeologyof Antiquity 1.) Pp. viii + 540, pls. 301. Styx,Groningen 2000. $100. ISSN 1568-4229; ISBN90 5693 041 9 (cloth).

The sleaze, dishonesty, and corrupting forces of theantiquities market are unmasked in this frank assessmentof the impact of forged antiquities on the interpretationof the ancient Near East. The intellectual consequencesof incorporating unprovenanced antiquities, that is tosay artifacts that do not possess an archaeological con-text, into any assessment of ancient culture and art his-tory have been rehearsed elsewhere (e.g., ChristopherChippindale and this reviewer, AJA 97 [1993] 601–59,and 104 [2000] 463–511; and International Journal of Cul-tural Property 10 [2001] 1–31, and 11 [2002] 50–64).Muscarella has pinpointed the central intellectual issueof artifacts derived through “bazaar archaeology” in ananecdote about a conference on ancient bronzes wherehe challenged the alleged Luristan findspots for objectsbearing Mesopotamian inscriptions. An anonymous col-league (whom perceptive readers will try to identify) isreported to have responded with: “What then can we sayabout them? What can we say about Mesopotamian con-tacts with Luristan?” (14). Unprovenanced material,whether or not it is forged, can only serve to corrupt anddistort the intellectual interpretation of artifacts, andMuscarella reminds scholars of the danger of using un-provenanced comparanda in catalogues (205, n. 1).

The Lie is divided into two parts. The first, “Introduc-tion and Polemic: The Forgery Culture” (1–29), mapsout many of the methodological issues faced by scholarsdealing with material that has surfaced on the antiqui-ties market. The emphasis is on Near Eastern material,but the processes at work in authenticating, acquiring,and advertising will be unsettlingly familiar to museumcurators and archaeologists. The issue of scholars pub-lishing in popular magazines that have close links withthe antiquities trade is also raised (12; see also K. Butch-er and D.W.J. Gill, Antiquity 64 [1990] 946–50). Thelengths that some directors, curators, collectors, deal-ers, and scholars will go to thwart the unmasking of forg-eries and illicit antiquities is dispiriting, though it is en-couraging to find that Muscarella has met with coopera-tion in some circles.

The bulk of The Lie is devoted to a catalogue of forg-eries divided into six cultural broad areas: Iranian cul-tures (31–133), Anatolian cultures (135–57), Mesopota-mian (159–87), north Syrian (189–93), Phoenician, Syr-ian, and Levantine (195–201), and Sasanian (203–5).The catalogue entries are enlivened by some entertain-ing asides not normally found in scholarly works. A goldand lapis lazuli “caprid/ibex protome” rhyton in theAbegg collection was given the alleged findspot: “Pre-

sumably from Eastern Iran, near the Afghanistan bor-der” (53, no. 6). Muscarella adds: “Kipling could not im-prove on this.” There are also some important insightsinto the authentification process of antiquities (of mod-ern manufacture) and their acceptance into the canonof genuine objects. One of the most bizarre was thepublication of two items on the postage stamps of Israel(55, no. 33; 63, no. 11), which meets with the observa-tion, “another foolish example of favoring the unexca-vated over the excavated.”

For Anatolian archaeology there is an observable linkbetween the excavation of archaeological sites and theprovision of “antiquities” with believable (but false) find-spots. Hacilar pottery was explained in terms of the plun-dering of the site after excavation, though TL testingidentified large numbers of forgeries surfacing in themarket (135–41). The presentation of reconstructed fres-coes allegedly from Çatalhöyük is also brought into ques-tion (141–3). Glyn Daniel reminded the readers of An-tiquity (December 1971) that the man arrested for theHacilar “scam” was Sevket Cetimkaya, who was “delicious-ly described” by the reporter of the London Times as “apeasant of no specific occupation” but able to become “abusiness man of independent means, owning one or moreblocks of flats and a travel agency” (Sunday Times [Lon-don] 8 August 1971).

There is a “concordance of museums and collections”(537–40) listing objects that Muscarella considers to befakes; the list of present proprietors includes antiquitiesdealers (some now use the euphemism, “Ancient Art Con-sultants”) and galleries. The concordance might havebeen enhanced by including accession numbers, andhaving a separate section for museums and dealers. Amongthe dealers listed is Jerome Eisenberg, who has perhapsprided himself on avoiding handling forgeries (see Butch-er and Gill, Antiquity 64 [1990] 946–50): 23 items appearin Muscarella’s catalogue, most passing through Eisen-berg’s hands in the early to mid 1960s, though one asrecently as 1992 (164, no. 35). The scandal surroundingthe antiquities department of Sotheby’s in London hasdone much to throw light on the ungentle(wo)manlyworld of the auction houses, and Sotheby’s (London)seems to have had its fair share of apparent forgeries. Asthe sale of antiquities moves onto the Internet (see Chip-pindale and Gill, Culture without Context 9 [2001] 4–13),so the problem of forgeries increases as autopsy is madeimpossible.

Muscarella will not be thanked in some circles for com-piling this substantial catalogue, which charts greed, gull-ibility, dishonesty, and lack of integrity. His study needsto be read in conjunction with the “Code of Ethics forProfessionals Concerned with the Antiquities of the Nearand Middle East” developed at the “Symposium on theLooted Antiquities of Baghdad, December 1994” (andconveniently reprinted in Patrick J. O’Keefe, Trade inAntiquities [London: Archetype; UNESCO, 1997] 119–20). The Lie should be compulsory reading for any ar-

BOOK REVIEWS286 [AJA 107

chaeologist who has ever had to deal with material whichhas not been derived from an archaeological excavation—that is to say, every archaeologist.

David W.J. Gill

department of classics and ancient historyuniversity of wales swanseasingleton parkswansea sa2 8ppwalesunited [email protected]

A Comparative Study of Thirty City-State Cul-tures: An Investigation Conducted by theCopenhagen Polis Centre, edited by MogensHerman Hansen. (Historisk-filosofiske Skrifter 21.)Pp. 636, figs. 98. C.A. Reitzels, Copenhagen 2000.DKr 600. ISSN 0023-3307; ISBN 87-7876-177-8.This book should disabuse either advocate or critic of

any notion that the city-state is defined by the polis orcivitas of Classical antiquity. This idea began with Fustelde Coulanges’ classic Le Cité antique (1864) and contin-ued through Max Weber’s fundamental study of the cityand state (1921) in which he viewed the city as a pecu-liarly Western phenomenon. But by and large it endedwith Weber, because, as Hansen points out in this vol-ume, archaeological research subsequently forced a glo-bal focus on the origins of urbanism and the state andthereby challenged scholars to come to terms with the“city-state” as a real and widespread phenomenon in hu-man history. In this study Hansen brings together a di-verse group of experts to consider both the city-state andthe city-state culture in 30 different case studies. Theresult is a rich and dense study, carefully edited andthoughtfully presented, that largely succeeds in its task.It is an indispensable source for any scholar archaeolo-gist, historian, sociologist, anthropologist, or political sci-entist who is interested in cities and their relations tostates and empires.

Under Hansen’s direction the Copenhagen Polis Cen-tre has been researching over the last decade two relatedissues: the ancient Greek polis and the notion of thecity-state. The project has been aimed at disentanglingthem and providing each with a solid grounding. In theprocess Hansen has differentiated the concept of city-state from one he terms “city-state culture,” and it is thisdistinction that will fundamentally change the debate,in large part because of the truly comparative basis onwhich it is grounded. The 30 case studies are drawn fromaround the globe and range chronologically from theearliest urban city-states of Mesopotamia to those of the18th-century Dutch Republic. Naturally the Old World isthoroughly represented, but also, among others, the“Celtic” oppida, Mecca and Medina, Viking Dublin, andItalian and Swiss city-states. In North Africa we read aboutcity-states in the Wadi Mzâb, the Hausa and Yoruba statesfrom sub-Saharan to southwestern coastal Nigeria, andthose of the eastern Niger delta. The 17th- to 18th-cen-tury Fante federations of the Gold Coast are consideredand on the East African coast the Swahili states. Three

urban cultures of Asia during the first millennium B.C.E.are included, those of Spring–Autumn China, the TarimBasin, and Mahajanapada India. There are chapters onthe archipelago polities in southeast Asia prior to andincluding the 15th- to 16th-century Malay city-states andalso the earlier Tai-müang peninsular ones. Finally thearchaeologically known Maya, Mixtec, and Aztec city-statecultures of the New World are discussed.

Each participant was asked to evaluate the social, polit-ical, and economic form of his subject area according toHansen’s analysis of the “concepts of city, state, city-state and city-state culture.” Hansen charged his col-leagues to consider their cases according to the variablesof size, territory, population, ethnic and political identi-ty, name, settlement pattern, urban form, economy, de-fense, government, self-government, and self-sufficien-cy. These are the core criteria decided upon by Hansenon the basis of his extensive winnowing of the evidence.They form his definition of the city-state (19):

A highly institutionalised and highly centralised micro-state consisting of one town (often walled) with its im-mediate hinterland and settled with a stratified popula-tion, of whom some are citizens, some foreigners and,sometimes, slaves. Its territory is mostly so small that theurban centre can be reached in a day’s walk or less, andthe politically privileged part of its population is so smallthat is does in fact constitute a face-to-face society. Thepopulation is ethnically affiliated with the population ofneighbouring city-states, but political identity is focusedon the city-state itself and based on differentiation fromother city-states. A significantly large fraction of the pop-ulation is settled in the town, while the others are set-tled in the hinterland, either dispersed in farmsteads ornucleated in villages or both. The urban economy im-plies specialisation of function and division of labour tosuch an extent that the population has to satisfy a signif-icant part of their daily needs by purchase in the city’smarket. The city-state is a self-governing but not neces-sarily an independent political unit.

Hansen’s introductory and concluding chapters areindispensable to this volume. He provides a brief consid-eration of the history and meaning of the terms urban-ization, city, state, and city-state. He defines the differ-ence between the concepts of city-state culture and city-state: “that a city-state is a micro-state composed of onetown with its immediate hinterland, and a city-state cul-ture is a civilisation which, politically, is organized as asystem of city-states” (17). The distinction is importantsince it links the two metonymically, and permits an as-sessment of the city-state as a dynamic system operatingin different settings around the world at different timesin the past. By spelling out the concept of city-state cul-ture and providing dozens of case studies for inspectionin this volume, Hansen directly confronts the criticismsthat have been leveled against the use of the term city-state. Because of this bipartite distinction and by use ofthe many criteria that define his model, Hansen avoidsboth the essentialist and inclusivist failings of previousstudies of the city-state. In his concluding chapter hereturns to this distinction, first by considering studies bysuch authors as Toynbee, Griffeth and Thomas, Burke,Renfrew and Cherry, Maisels, Trigger, and Nichols andCharlton. These he points out encompass three approach-

BOOK REVIEWS2003] 287

es: (1) the study of individual examples for themselves,(2) the study of an individual example in order to devel-op a model to be applied elsewhere, and (3) the task hesets himself of studying many city-state cultures so as tobuild a general model.

Hansen effectively counters attacks on the term city-state by those anthropologists whose antipathy to it orig-inates from their hegemonic definition of the state (e.g.,Gary Feinman and Joyce Marcus, “Introduction,” in theiredited volume, Archaic States [Santa Fe 1998] 3–13, esp.8–10; and Joyce Marcus, “The Peaks and Valleys of An-cient States,” in the same volume, 59–94, esp. 91–4). AsHansen carefully argues, the use of the term has a long,complex, and varied history that demonstrates not a nar-row attempt to extend Western (and Classical antiqui-ty’s) intellectual hegemony over the phenomenon butrather an interest in its essentially comparative utility,thanks largely to the work of archaeology. He carries theargument further in a critical discussion of the “allegedimprecision of the concept of city-state” (600), where hemakes the fundamental distinction between the “purelyheuristic concept” of the city-state as opposed to theeffective jural concept of state where, as he points out,things are really at stake: “The question about the state-hood of Taiwan and the Palestinians has become a majorpolitical issue which may result in wars and will undoubt-edly affect the course of history” (601).

Three issues are treated here as essential for under-standing the model: (1) territory and population, (2) sizeand nature of the urban center, and (3) degree of self-government. In discussing the first Hansen demonstratesthe importance of the distinction between city-state andcity-state culture by pointing out that city-states could evolveinto city-state cultures constructed of city-states or intomacro-states, which then ceased to be city-states. Second,he stresses that the growing recognition by archaeologistsof the importance of urban nucleated centers has extend-ed the model of urbanism from the Old to the New Worldand then to Asia. Hansen points out, as a global phenom-enon, that Weber’s distinction between occidental andoriental (viz. Islamic) cities is both historically and geo-graphically too restrictive, since many Islamic cities out-side the historical core area of Islam are self-governing.Furthermore, urbanism is also a much more flexible phe-nomenon, such that even in terms of the important crite-rion of density of population there is no absolute, sincedensity needs to be understood in terms of relative magni-tude, a calculation that requires factoring in surface calcu-lations of changing population densities as one moves fromhinterland to urban periphery to urban core, as in the caseof the Maya. Last, Hansen, in a thorough review of re-search, demonstrates how inattention to the criterion ofself-governance has sowed confusion and blurred the def-inition of the city-state. The critical importance of under-standing the ability of city-states to exist as semi-autono-mous political entities is underscored by a listing of 21examples here studied that would have to be excluded ifan uncritical and monolithic definition of the terms sover-eignty and autonomy were employed. He concludes byexamining the probable reasons why city-states emergedin some settings and macro-states in others. Here he drawson the case studies presented in this volume and pullstogether the many threads spun by the contributors.

Despite this careful analysis of the issues and the abun-dance of information provided by the many authors intheir case studies, there remain challenges to the studyof city-states. The evidence pulled together in these casestudies is highly varied: some instances are only knownarchaeologically, others through a combination of archae-ology and contemporary texts as well as later historicaldocuments. Some are known primarily through religioustexts or from early historical sources, others are richlydocumented historically. In consequence not all casesare equal, and in fact it is clear that in many of the prima-rily archaeological or merely textually supported instanc-es the evaluation can scarcely be made. In contrast, someof the historical examples are so richly documented (theMedieval Italian city-states, the Imperial and free townsof the Holy Roman empire, the city-state culture of theDutch Republic) that they permit very complex, variable,and dynamic analyses that demonstrate how difficult it iseven for the most robust model to encompass all candi-dates. These suggest that models of political economymay be of most utility for focusing research on identify-ing diagnostic and comparative features of instancesknown only from limited sources, whether historical orarchaeological—in other words, those cases where a gen-eral and initial classification is required. In richly docu-mented, and generally more recent, historical settingsthe model is of less value, although very useful for stimu-lating comparative debate. In the end, the careful readerwill recognize a divide between the archaeological andhistorical, where for the former structural and functionaldescriptions, the question of comparability, and the de-sire to assess different forms of human sociopolitical in-tegration are all paramount, while for the latter thesematters are of less utility than a richly reasoned historicalexplanation of the distinct characteristics of the instanceunder consideration.

Despite these continuing difficulties the case studiespresented here demonstrate that city-states and city-state cultures are real entities. Each essay in this vol-ume bears careful reading, and because all were writtenwith Hansen’s model in mind, the similarities stand outeven when different circumstances present extraordi-narily different forms. Future work on this problem willnecessarily take these studies and Hansen’s importantanalysis as fundamental for continuing debate.

James C. Wright

department of classical and neareastern archaeology

bryn mawr collegebryn mawr, pennsylvania [email protected]

Gender and the Archaeology of Death, editedby Bettina Arnold and Nancy L. Wicker. Pp. xxi +203, figs. 22, tables 21, maps 3. AltaMira Press,Walnut Creek, Calif. 2001. $26.95. ISBN 0-7591-0137-X (paper).The excellent introduction to this volume, the sec-

ond in Sarah Milledge Nelson’s “Gender in ArchaeologySeries,” brilliantly summarizes the strengths of each of


the 10 single-author papers. Arnold and Wicker extractand distill salient points while effectively highlightingareas of difficulty within the various approaches used bythe contributors. As the reviewer, I only have the task ofproviding brief notes and a few critical comments on someof the papers. These comments include tempering mylaudatory remarks about the introduction with a concernfor the use of undefined and unindexed terms, such as“patriarchal systems” (vii), and phrases such as the “mul-tivocality of objects” (xv).

Many of these papers effectively use ethnographic datato interpret the always ambiguous archaeological evi-dence. Others would have benefited from the use ofappropriate anthropological models. More effort shouldhave been directed toward editing some of the papersand emphasizing that the limited database may lead someauthors to stretch our archaeological imaginations.

O’Gorman’s paper provides a beautifully edited sum-mary of her dissertation. She examines excavation datafrom pre-Contact houses in Wisconsin (Oneota Tradition)to decode social organization, and finds that gender isstrongly indicated both by placement of objects in buri-als and in the settlement pattern used by these people.

Stalsberg’s focus is on high status females noted inearly Medieval runic texts. The evidence presented sug-gests numbers of questions not even broached by theauthor. Her work is marred by the suggestion that “wom-en evidently are overrepresented” (69) in the cemetery,a conclusion not clearly supported. Balance scales arefound in women’s graves, but where are the weights andwhat did they weigh?

Gräslund’s excellent review of data from runic textsinfers female roles played in Iron Age Scandinavia. Herdescription of these roles appears identical to those Ihave decoded for farm wives in the Palatine and Englishcolonial settlements in Pennsylvania of the 17th and 18thcenturies.

Crass’s useful paper indicates that in the Arctic, bio-logical sex and cultural gender are interestingly juxta-posed and variable in children. Is this a useful culturaladaptation for a small population under stress? Gender isrepresented in organic burial goods that are well pre-served in the Arctic, but objects often were removed fromburials for reuse. Were they returned, and did returnsresult in gender “mixing”? The anaerobic, waterlogged,Early Archaic period (5500 B.C.E.) Windover site in Flor-ida also has excellent artifact preservation, revealing itemssimply not seen in most archaeological sites. Hamlin’scareful and balanced analysis of the possible uses for thesetools helps her to infer gender roles.

Hollimon reviews bone studies from the NorthernPlains of America and finds evidence that women werescalped. Her suggestion that women joined raiding par-ties may be correct, but the frequency appears extremelylow.

Jiao’s paper supposedly focuses on Neolithic China,but rambles through time and space while adding com-ments on gender. Jiao and others note the problem ofrecognizing social classes in the records, where elitesoften are the only people known. Arnold and Wicker(xvi) point out the problems of generalization about asociety as a whole based on patterns observed in themortuary ritual of elites.

Eleanor Scott’s lead paper, “Killing the Female? Ar-chaeological Narratives of Infanticide,” examines theorigins of what she identifies as the pervasive myth offemale infanticide. This paper would have benefited fromrigorous editorial oversight as it is not an effective sum-mary of her extensively documented recent monograph.Compounding this problem are her reliance on MarvinHarris’s (1989) popular work and poor use of contempo-rary theory on dowry to address that issue.

In archaeology as in other areas of scientific researchone often finds what one looks for, and sometimes weeven see what is not there. I believe, as do both editorsand many others, that it is time to put questions regard-ing gender into the archaeological mainstream, amongthe many issues now commonly discussed. Many of thesepapers touch on important issues and offer useful infor-mation. However, papers that provide few if any insightsinto cultural behaviors relating to gender are not neces-sarily the best way for archaeology to move forward.

Marshall Joseph Becker

department of anthropology-sociologywest chester university of pennsylvaniawest chester, pennsylvania [email protected]

Archaeogenetics: DNA and the PopulationPrehistory of Europe, edited by Colin Renfrewand Katie Boyle. Pp. 342, figs. 104, tables 47.McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research,Cambridge 2000. $80. ISSN 1363-1349; ISBN 1-902937-08-2 (cloth).

America Past, America Present: Genes and Lan-guages in the Americas and Beyond, edited byColin Renfrew. Pp. 175, ills. 12, tables 13. McDonaldInstitute for Archaeological Research, Cam-bridge 2000. $50. ISSN 1461-331x; ISBN 1-902937-01-5 (paper).What is (or are) archaeogenetics? The neologism seems

to announce a new subdiscipline. As in other such cases,however—such as sociobiology a quarter-century earli-er—this is a case of giving a new name to a field that hasbeen active for some time. Its beginning could fairly beput, as Sykes does in a contribution to Renfrew and Boyle’svolume, at the work of Ludwik and Hanka Herschfeld inthe laboratories of the Royal Serbian Army. Their 1919paper in The Lancet compared the differing blood groupsof Allied soldiers in the First World War, gathered in theBalkans from many parts of the world. Never mind thatthe Herschfelds’ conclusions about human history andevolution now look outlandish. The concept that thegenes of living populations contain decipherable tracesof their pasts was the seed from which archaeogeneticshas grown.

And so what does archaeogenetics look like now, inthe DNA era? These two volumes from the McDonaldInstitute for Archaeological Research in Cambridge, ed-ited by Renfrew and Boyle and by Renfrew, on Europeand the Americas respectively, offer us a sampling of re-


cent work and an opportunity to consider that question.It has been a weakness of the field at times that researchhas been scattered through many (mostly human genet-ics) journals—not brought together except by chains ofcross-reference, and sometimes not scrutinized by thecriteria of disciplines other than the journal’s own. Sothese two volumes are very welcome, offering as theyeach do, a conspectus of research and opinions on thepast of the continent in question, from the perspectivesof several disciplines. Both include well known special-ists and research teams. The resulting collections are in-evitably heterogeneous but interesting and useful none-theless. Libraries of institutions active in the field willwish to acquire one or both, according to their regionalinterests.

The more substantial volume is the handsome one onEurope, based on a Cambridge conference on “HumanDiversity in Europe and Beyond.” At 342 pages, it boasts41 chapters, which include dozens of tables and manydozens of figures, plus a foreword by Colin Renfrew andconcluding remarks by Luca Cavalli-Sforza, symbolizingthe meeting of archaeology and human genetics. Au-thors come from a wide range of European organizationsthemselves, from Iceland to Russia and from Sweden toSicily—as well as beyond Europe.

Most chapters approach the issues of Europe’s remot-er past from a genetic perspective and discuss the spatialpatterning of variation in one or more genetic system,either on a continental or a regional scale. Unsurprising-ly, there is a strong bias toward studies of uniparentalgenetic systems (mitochondrial DNA and Y chromosome),and Sykes strenuously defends reconstructions of prehis-tory based on single systems, including these. Many ofthese chapters are quite technical. One knows that im-pressive-looking techniques do not automatically meanunshakeable inferences, and that dates in particularshould be taken with a pinch of salt. But it would oftentake a specialist in the relevant genetic system and modeof analysis to identify some of the potential limitations,when the analyses are as complex as they are here. Ingeneral, though, it is possible for the nonexpert to seesome of the authors’ thinking and their “take-homemessages,” and there are introductory chapters to makethis easier. This book is therefore a more helpful point ofentry for the non-geneticist into the genetics literaturethan simply delving into the journals.

Otte, Pinhasi et al., Zvelebil, Lahr et al., and Collardand Shennan contribute more archaeologically orientedoverviews and case studies, mostly concerned with cultur-al change and the agricultural transition. There appearto be no contributions from linguists, although linguisticconsiderations are invoked by some writers. Outliers tothe main theme include van Andel on paleoclimatology,Calafell et al. on central Asia, Kivisild et al. on India,Bradley on animal domestication, and Allaby on wheatdomestication.

The modern phase of European archaeogenetics be-gan with the collaboration between Ammerman and Cav-alli-Sforza, which culminated in an influential book, TheNeolithic Transition and the Genetics of Populations in Europe(Princeton 1984), reviewed by myself among others (Can-berra Anthropology 9 [1986] 102–14). They argued thatpatterns in Europe’s Neolithic archaeology and in its

present-day population genetics can both be explainedas the outcome of a slow ripple of complex prehistoricchange spreading from southeastern Europe to all otherparts. This hypothesized change involved the spread ofagricultural concepts, practices, and materials, but alsothe local migration of agriculturalists into new territoriesand their interactions with preexisting hunter-gather-ers, including the eventual absorption of hunter-gather-ers into the denser agricultural populations.

The Ammerman/Cavalli-Sforza model, based on analy-sis of classical genetic markers, quickly became contro-versial—challenged by some, broadly supported by oth-ers (including Sokal), and elaborated by yet others (e.g.,Renfrew himself, with the notion that Indo-Europeanlanguages diffused with agriculture). That this debatehas continued with undiminished vigor into the DNA erais shown by a number of the contributions to Renfrewand Boyle’s book. In 1996 Richards et al. inferred fromtheir mitochondrial DNA findings that the contributionof pre-Neolithic hunter-gatherers to the European gene-pool was approximately 85%, in which case demographicchanges associated with the Neolithic could not havebeen as important as Ammerman and Cavalli-Sforza be-lieved; Richards and Macaulay restate and refine theirargument here. But Barbujani and Chikhi restate andrefine the argument from the Cavalli-Sforza camp. Forthem, the clinal pattern (a relatively smooth and consis-tent spatial gradient) that is predicted on the demographicdiffusion model is observed in the nuclear data, bothclassical and DNA, so that mitochondrial DNA constitutesan exception. The resolution is not yet clear to see, andis bound to be at least partly technical in nature. Ren-frew offers the beginnings of one, but it surely needsmore working through. In the meantime, despite Sykes’sreassurance, this reviewer can only express some reserveabout conclusions reached on the basis of mitochondrialDNA where support from other systems is lacking.

While the debate about the broad sweep of Europe’sprehistoric colonization constitutes the most salient sin-gle theme in the book, it does not wholly dominate it.Many chapters address smaller-scale issues in the peo-pling of various parts of western and eastern Europe.There is particular concentration on the Mediterranean,but coverage ranges to Ireland, the Arctic, and Bulgaria.DNA recovered from skeletal samples plays only a smallpart. Other issues altogether surface too, for example,the prehistory of dairying and the genetics of lactasepersistence.

Renfrew’s other edited book, on the Americas, is lesscomprehensive at 175 pages but still far from lightweight.It also derives from a recent McDonald Institute meet-ing, one whose background themes were linguistic(Greenberg’s postulated Amerind macrofamily) and ge-netic (population-specific polymorphisms). The book isin much the same style and mold as Renfrew and Boyle’s,and indeed it shares some of the same authors. There isa significant and welcome difference in this book’s sub-stantive inclusion of linguistics. On the other hand, theprofile of archaeology here is low.

A broad correlation between linguistic and geneticgroupings was anticipated by Darwin and claimed by Cav-alli-Sforza and colleagues in 1988. It is this concept, asapplied to the Americas, that is under scrutiny here. If


(linguistically defined) tribes or populations have beenin existence long enough to develop “private” geneticpolymorphisms, that clearly has implications for the pro-cesses that maintain their distinctiveness over the longterm, and ultimately for the archaeology of the Americason a macro-scale. It is in that sense, more than any directstatement about archaeology, that this book will hold areal interest for many Americanist archaeologists. Thebook also offers perspectives on the dating of earliesthuman arrivals in the Americas, with molecular geneti-cists tending to favor earlier dates than are accepted bymost archaeologists; and there are discussions on thepower of historical linguistics to detect relationships atsuch remote time depths, with (thankfully) a skeptic’sviews (Ringe’s) presented alongside an optimist’s (Ru-hlen’s). Perhaps it hardly needs saying, however, thatarchaeologists are better off than either linguists or ge-neticists when it comes to the security of their datings.Another dimension of the debate lies in the polarity be-tween macro- and micro-scale studies, and the book alsoincludes Merriwether et al.’s important micro-analysis—limited to mitochondrial DNA, however—of variation with-in a single population, the Yanomama.

In short, these are two substantial and scholarly collec-tions, on the archaeology and genetics of Europe andthe linguistics and genetics of the Americas, which spe-cialists in those fields will want to be able to consult, andwhich do more than many a journal article to facilitatecommunication across disciplinary boundaries.

Robert Attenborough

school of archaeology and anthropologyaustralian national universitycanberra a.c.t. [email protected]

Order, Legitimacy and Wealth in AncientStates, edited by Janet Richards and Mary VanBuren. (New Directions in Archaeology.) Pp. xiii+ 163, figs. 37, pls. 10, maps 7, charts 9. CambridgeUniversity Press, Cambridge 2000. $65 (cloth);$24 (paper). ISBN: 0-521-77212-5 (cloth); 0-521-77671-6 (paper).Studies of ancient states and the concomitant rise of

social complexity typically have treated, in a comparativemanner, issues of increasing power, order, and wealth, aswell as the stabilization and legitimization of the state.Many such studies, furthermore, have focused on thehighest social stratum within the state, and on the “highculture” associated with such “inner elites.” Given cur-rent emphases in archaeology on social and contextualapproaches, with their aversion to generalization andtheir attempt to understand peasants, commoners, com-munities, rural interests, and ideologies, and with theirfocus on variability in social formations and diversity inpolitico-economic positions (from heterarchies to earlystate hierarchies), readers might criticize this volume forbeing old-fashioned and totalizing. Although this workdoes continue the rather conservative trend taken by

Cambridge University Press’s New Directions series in re-cent years, it would be a mistake to dismiss it out of hand:the contributors question, manipulate, reformulate, re-ject, or reinvigorate the main thesis in a series of empir-ically rich and theoretically astute papers that will enricharchaeological understandings of the emergence anddevelopment of early state societies.

So, just what is this volume’s main thesis? What is newabout it, and how do the volume’s contributors take ex-ception to and expand upon the main thesis? In an earli-er paper (published in G.M. Feinman and J. Marcus, eds.Archaic States [Santa Fe 1998], John Baines and NormanYoffee identified and elaborated upon several elements—especially art, ideology, and elite practices—that unique-ly distinguished Egyptian and Mesopotamian “civiliza-tions” from other states or less hierarchically organizedpolities. They termed these elements “high culture” and“inner elites.” They maintained not only that civilizationis coincident with high culture—a materialized ideologybased on everything from architecture and art to foodand landscapes—but also that the production and con-sumption of such items and ideas are the exclusive do-main of the inner elite. Baines and Yoffee, moreover,restate their position in chapter 2 of this volume: theysee the interplay of order, legitimacy, and wealth (here-after, OLW) as exemplified by high culture, and focusedon an inner elite that both constitutes the cultural, ad-ministrative, and executive core of a society and compris-es less than 1% of its population.

The editors, Janet Richards and Mary van Buren, invit-ed specialists in the study of Old and New World stateformation to consider these concepts (originally in a sym-posium at the 1994 meetings of the American Anthropo-logical Association) as a platform for a comparative studyof Mesoamerican, Andean, Near Eastern, Indus Valley,Mediterranean, and Chinese societies, looking at bothshared organizational principles and context-specific sit-uations. In their own introduction, the editors provide aconcise and valuable, historically-based discussion on thestudy of “civilisations,” including evolutionary (Childe,Redfield, Service, and Fried), culture historical, and worldssystems approaches. Their comment, however, that post-processual approaches “are primarily ethnographic in or-igin and scope” (7) misses the mark widely; it is simplyunacceptable to lump together and criticize (as manyAmerican archaeologists continue to do) the diversity ofideas and methodologies involved in social archaeologytoday by referring to a few works published in the 1980sby Hodder, Shanks, Tilley, and Miller. That said, the edi-tors are correct to state that postprocessualism eschewsthe comparative approach, because material and mean-ing are culture specific.

Leaving aside such labels and internecine debates, howdo the volume’s contributors see the significance of OLWin the societies they study? Most studies take exceptionto Baines and Yoffee’s boldly exclusionary and elite-driv-en vision of OLW, and point out in several different waysthat emergent elites often were severely limited in thestrategies they could use to maintain their social posi-tions, and that elites, managers, workers, farmers, andother commoners usually had much more interaction andcommunication than Baines and Yoffee propose. David


O’Connor, for example, argues that for the Egyptians ofthe Old Kingdom, the notion of cosmic order was a con-cern for the whole of society, not just its pharaohs. JanetRichards, in her study of the subsequent First Intermedi-ate Period and Middle Kingdom of Egypt, questions thenotion of an exclusive, high culture ideology, and arguesthat elites had to contend with “bottom-up” processesand forces over which they had no control. RosemaryJoyce perhaps comes closest to accepting the Baines-Yof-fee thesis in considering how categories of valuables wereconstructed in Mesoamerica, and the diachronic relation-ship of such valuables to establishing wealth and order.In so doing, however, Joyce is concerned more with polit-ico-economic factors than with the social construction ofmeaning and she relates wealth to evaluation rather thanto modes of communication. Mary van Buren utilizes eth-nohistoric documents to consider the production of highculture among the Inka, and argues that the ideologicalpractices of regional elites, and indigenous resistance toelite control, both were crucial in the long-term develop-ment and maintenance of Andean civilization. Old Worldstudies by Mark Kenoyer (Indus Valley), Susan Alcock(Imperial Rome), and Bennet Bronson (Han DynastyChina) round out the volume, and demonstrate—each intheir own way—that OLW were concepts more complexand contested than the Baines-Yoffee model allows.Kenoyer argues in a long and detailed study that wealth,in the form of non-exotic and manufactured goods, andin both public and private contexts, was directly associat-ed with status and the legitimization of authority in theIndus Valley. Alcock combines the study of monumentalart and documentary evidence to consider how the Greekscapitalized on the nostalgic use of their own high cultureboth to accommodate and deny the realities of Romanimperial rule. In his ethnohistoric analysis of Han China,Bronson points out that order, cosmology, legitimacy, andwealth were indeed critical for the inner elite but that,for elites and commoners alike, the “grand abstractionsof political theory and ritual” were less important thanthe perception that the system was functioning, the econ-omy was prospering, and that life was secure.

Both the editorial introduction and the concludingoverview by Elizabeth Brumfiel (which also includes anAztec case study) give distinctive assessments and/or sum-maries of the papers in the volume; they almost preemptthe need for an independent review. Although in princi-ple I do not approve of editorial summaries, in this casevan Buren and Richards have provided very thoughtfulevaluations of the papers. Brumfiel discusses the Aztecconcept of tonalli, a “heat-light” energy force that wasindispensable for existence and with which all Aztec rul-ers were, unsurprisingly, much better endowed than weretheir subjects. Tonalli, you might say, encapsulates con-cepts of OLW in a state ideology as effectively as doesthe Baines-Yoffee notion of high culture and the socialstructuration of meaning. Tellingly, however, tonalli wasnot confined to the inner elites but affected the livesand fortunes of other segments of society, not least thesoldiers who captured people for human sacrifices or shedtheir own blood for their Aztec rulers. Aztec leaders un-derstood the importance of high culture in creating andmaintaining order, legitimacy, and wealth.

Certainly (inner) elites create many distinctive formsof high culture, but emulation by others ensures that itwill never remain their exclusive domain, and the manip-ulation by others of the forms and categories of highcultures is often critical in the development and legiti-mization of alternative social and political alignments.Baines and Yoffee’s original conceptualization of OLWmay not prove to be widely acceptable in the archaeolog-ical climate of the 21st century, but the editors and con-tributors to this volume have ensured that it will take itsplace alongside peer polity interaction, center and pe-riphery, specialization and exchange, and several otherconcepts, in fostering new and dynamic studies on theemergence and development of social complexity in ear-ly state societies.

A. Bernard Knapp

department of archaeologyuniversity of glasgowglasgow g12 8qqunited [email protected]

Metals Make the World Go Round: The Supplyand Circulation of Metals in Bronze AgeEurope, edited by C.F.E. Pare. Pp. vii + 279, figs.106, table 28. Oxbow, Oxford 2000. $80. ISBN 1-84217-019-8 (cloth).Metals Make the World Go Round represents the publi-

cation of the proceedings of a conference held at theUniversity of Birmingham in June 1997. The conference,devoted to “The Supply and Circulation of Metals inBronze Age Europe,” was organized by Christopher Pare(then at the University of Birmingham and now profes-sor at the Institut für Vor- und Frühgeschichte, JohannesGutenberg Universität Mainz), who has also edited theproceedings for publication.

This conference was the third in a series of meetingssponsored by the Directorate General X of the EuropeanCommission, Brussels. The first two meetings, held inMainz and then in Athens, focused on Eliten in derBronzezeit and have been published in the JRGZM for 1999.This background is essential for an understanding of thepublication under review, which represents the new worldof European archaeology, organized and funded by theEuropean Union with the participation, for the most part,of scholars from member countries. Gone are the days of“east Mediterranean archaeology,” or the “archaeologyof northern Europe.” This is “European archaeology,” fromCyprus to Spain and from Greece to Denmark. All of thiswill come as something of a shock to Aegean prehistori-ans, not accustomed to dealing with Bronze Age Spainand Portugal or with axe hoards in northeastern Europe.

In organizing such a conference Pare did a splendidjob of bringing together many of the leading scholarsfrom nine different countries (including the UnitedStates, here represented by the Turkish scholar CemalPulak) to discuss in detail current research problems andthe results of the scholarship published within the past


decade or so. The result is a remarkable survey of currentwork on Bronze Age and Early Iron Age archaeology withinthe European Union. As nothing is said about transla-tion and no paper reads as if it had been translated, onehas to assume that all 18 papers published here werewritten and presented in English, a not entirely wel-come feature of the new European archaeology. Franceis conspicuous by its absence at this conference.

In a short review it is impossible to deal, in any signif-icant way, with all the contributions to this volume and,as all the papers are of considerable importance, it wouldbe invidious to discuss just a few of them. It is better, inmy opinion, to concentrate upon the two main themesof the conferences, hoards and balance weights.

Much of the archaeology of continental Europe dur-ing the Bronze Age, especially the Late Bronze Age, isstill devoted to the subject of hoards. Hoards of bronze,buried in the ground or thrown into lakes and rivers, arethe dominant element of almost every archaeologicalcontext. Compared with the mere handful of hoards fromCyprus and the Aegean (for which see A.B. Knapp, J.D.Muhly, and P.M. Muhly, “To Hoard is Human,” RDAC[1998] 233–62), the sheer number of European hoardsis astonishing. From LBA Brittany alone J. Briard, in 1965,counted over 300 axe hoards, containing over 30,000bronze axes. That number, by now, must be in excess of35,000. The size of these hoards is also remarkable, withindividual hoards containing over 4,000 axes, often ar-ranged in the ground in very precise patterns.

The weight of metal being buried in the ground is alsounlike anything known from the Mediterranean world.The largest hoard known from the LBA Mediterranean,that from the island of Lipari, dated to ca. 1200 B.C.E.,has 75 kilos of bronze. The contemporary hoard fromGuteria, Jud. Sibiu, in Rumania, had a total of 800 kilosof copper and bronze. What do such hoards represent?Why were such vast quantities of copper and bronze bur-ied in the ground, or otherwise disposed of? These arequestions that European scholars have been trying toanswer ever since C. Thomsen discussed the hoards ofDenmark in the mid-19th century. What has emerged,with great clarity, in recent scholarship is a major in-crease in the intensity of hoarding at the end of theBronze Age, in the late second millennium B.C.E., anincrease that is, in some way, associated with the intro-duction of iron.

But what was cause, what effect? Was bronze beingtaken out of circulation in order to maintain the valueand prestige of the metal under the impact of the ap-pearance of utilitarian iron? Was there simply too muchbronze in circulation, as Susan Sherratt now claims (83),or was there a shortage of bronze, resulting in increasedrecycling? If hoards are to be seen as representing dis-posal of wealth (in bronze), it is curious that the bronzebeing disposed of had such a high lead content, with 30–40% lead being common and with examples as high as80% (Christoph Huth, 186). Since Thomsen’s day scraphoards (or founder’s hoards) have been seen as assem-blages of discarded, broken, and unusable pieces ofbronze, intended for recycling by a bronze smith (KoenVerlaeckt, 202). But what of a hoard of hundreds of bronzeaxes fresh from the cast, often with their clay cores stillin place (Huth, 186)? This seems to be a case of “from

the mold to the ground” and raises the obvious question:why bother to cast the axes in the first place? Why notjust bury copper ingots? In fact, ingots are quite rare. Inthe Baltic area no single ingot has ever been found; evenhoards of scrap metal have pieces of cut-up artifacts, notpieces of ingots (Andrzej Pydyn, 230).

Scholars cannot agree upon the relationship betweenintensification of hoarding and the amount of metal incirculation. Some argue that hoards represent exactlythat, the hoarding of metal in times of scarcity. But sin-gle-item hoards, composed either of axes or sickles, mustrepresent abundance of metal in circulation, not scarcity(Verlaeckt, 202–3). All the contributors agree that metalwas buried in the ground for many different reasons,that there are many different categories of hoarding,that the relationship between hoards and grave goods isimportant but complex, and that we are badly in need ofsome sort of international inventory of hoards, in whichthe catalogue of the contents of each hoard would givenot only the number of objects but also the weight.

Three papers in Metals Make the World Go Round dealalmost exclusively with balance weights and weight sys-tems. Cemal Pulak publishes the 149 weights from theUluburun shipwreck (247–66), Hanne Lassen publishesthe weights from the LBA Cypriot site of Kalavasos-AyiosDhimitrios within the context of weights from contempo-rary Cypriot sites and from Ugarit (233–46), and MarisaRuiz-Gálvez discusses weight systems from the Iberianpeninsula (267–79).

Pulak and Lassen conclude that the predominant weightsystem in the LBA eastern Mediterranean was that basedupon the Syrian shekel of 9.3–9.4 grams. This is, however,also the weight of the Egyptian qedet. Moreover, 10 qedetsequal one deben, of 94 grams, and there are a number ofbalance weights of exactly this weight. Both the famousbronze head of an African male (Kalavasos-Ayios Dhimitrios454) and that of the head of a bull (K-AD 446) are justover 94 grams. Many weights of 94 grams, made of stone,are also known from Pyla-Kokkinokremos, Maa-Palaeokastro,Enkomi, and Ugarit. The Syrian and Egyptian weight sys-tems seem to have been interchangeable.

Absent, however, from Cyprus, Ugarit, and the Ulubu-run cargo, were weights of the Minoan and Mycenaeansystems. Aegean balance weights do not seem to havebeen used within the interregional trade systems of theeastern Mediterranean LBA. Is one to conclude fromthis that Aegean traders themselves did not take part insuch trade?

Ruiz-Gálvez, however, does find evidence for the useof Aegean weight systems in the Iberian peninsula, incontexts dating before the period of Phoenician coloni-zation (277–8). This she relates to the “amber route,”bringing Baltic amber into the Aegean, and, I would add,to the expansion of Mycenaean commerce toward thenorthwest, in a quest for new sources of raw material,notably tin (from Cornwall and Brittany). Ruiz-Gálvezbelieves that, long before the westward expansion of theGreeks and the Phoenicians (starting in the ninth cen-tury B.C.E.), “raw material, perishable items, persons andknow-how circulated from the East Mediterranean cor-ner of Europe to the Baltic one” (268). This representsthe spirit of globalization promulgated by the Birming-ham conference.


It is also the subject of the opening paper, by theeditor himself, on “Bronze and the Bronze Age” (1–38).Christopher Pare demonstrates in very appropriate detailthat, whereas virtually all of Europe, including the Ae-gean, made extensive use of bronze only in the yearsafter 1700 B.C.E., southwestern England already had avigorous bronze industry by the late third millennium. Ittook the Aegean world some 500 years to establish con-tact with developments in the northwest. When it finallydid, the Shaft Graves of Mycenae were the result.

J.D. Muhly

american school of classical studiesat athens

souidias 54gr 106 [email protected]

The First Fossil Hunters: Palaeontology inGreek and Roman Times, by Adrienne Mayor. Pp.xix + 361, figs. 77, maps 7. Princeton UniversityPress, Princeton 2000. $35. ISBN 0 691 08977 9(paper).“Just as historical narratives make the bare facts about

the human past come alive, the union of mythic imagina-tion and scientific reason gives meaning to the bare bonesof prehistory” (253). The theme of The First Fossil Hunt-ers is aptly summarized in the closing statement of thisintriguing book by Adrienne Mayor, a classical folkloristand amateur paleontologist. Mythic imagination and sci-entific reason are combined in this volume to get to theroots of the creation of monsters, mythological creatures,and composite human/animal beings in the classicalworld. The multidisciplinary nature of this book providesperspective from many angles of inquiry into the worldof ancient cryptozoology. It is refreshing that scientificevidence has been married with ancient testimonia inthis study to provide new and exciting interpretations ofthe work by classical authors. This book will be of interestto scholars in the fields of classics, paleontology, archae-ology, and anthropology. The book has been written insimple language, defining basic classical and paleonto-logical terms so that the general public can be includedin the target market. The work of Aristotle and Herodot-us, for example, are introduced and explained briefly sothat lay people not familiar with these ancient authorscan benefit from the authority of the citations. Thus,this book should have a long shelf life and be referred towidely in relevant fields of study.

Like Adventures in Unhistory by Avram Davidson (Phil-adelphia 1993) or Monsters, Tricksters and Sacred Cowsedited by A. James Arnold (Charlottesville 1996), TheFirst Fossil Hunters seeks to identify the source of inspi-ration for mythical beasts. Mayor’s work, however, isunique in examining the impact of the discovery of fos-sil bones of large extinct species on human cultures inantiquity. She argues that paleontology, in a crude form,existed in the classical world, and that the accidentaluncovering of giant bones compelled ancient people to

create myths explaining their existence, “geomyths” asshe describes them. Mayor uses convincing argumentsto walk the reader through the paleontological and lit-erary evidence. Norman MacLeod, a paleontologist atthe British Museum of Natural History in London, hasfittingly described this book in his own review as “oneof the best non-fictional detective stories I’ve read re-cently.” And it’s true: although written as a scholarlywork, Mayor begins with mythical creatures and storiesand follows a trail of fossil clues from the Greek islands,the Black Sea, and farther east through the Tien ShanMountains of Kazakhstan to the foot of the Altai Moun-tains of Mongolia. At the end of these ancient traderoutes connecting the Greeks to eastern cultures liethe Siwalik Hills of Pakistan, a rich source of fossil bonesfrom the late Tertiary period. It is along these traderoutes that remarkable fossil beds would have been ob-served in antiquity, much as they are in plain view today.Here many giant, dragon, and griffin-like skeletons canbe observed by the passer-by. Mayor makes a convincingcase that these bones would not have been disregardedin antiquity, but rather, complex stories and myths werecreated to explain them. Classical authors, she argues,have made a considerable number of references to fos-sil bones in their writings, only that these referenceshave been misinterpreted by classicists. A reasonableposition to take, since classicists are no more equippedto interpret paleontological evidence than paleontolo-gists are expected to be familiar with classical writings.To join these fields into one useful manual of classicalpaleontology, Mayor adds appendices of both “LargeVertebrate Fossil Species in the Ancient World” (orga-nized by country), and “Ancient Testimonia” (alphabet-ically arranged by author).

The foreword, by Peter Dobson, a respected paleon-tologist, introduces the history of paleontology, settingthe scene for Mayor’s examination of fossils in a classicalcontext. As a student of paleontology, Dobson was taughtthat the study of fossils began with Conrad Gesner, whoin 1565 wrote De rerum fossilium (“On Fossil Objects”).Even authors like Martin Rudwick in his Meaning of Fos-sils (London and New York 1972) attribute the begin-nings of paleontology to Gesner’s work, neglecting todelve into the ancient world of fossil interpretation. Rud-wick’s work focuses on the history of paleontology, atheme which should now be revised in light of Mayor’sfindings. Admittedly, Dobson oversteps his duties in hisforeword by presenting Mayor’s clever thesis on griffinsin her first chapter: the fossil remains of Protoceratops, anextinct reptilian dinosaur, could have been the inspira-tion of the gold-guarding Scythian griffin. His intentionis to discuss his contribution to the book through hisextensive knowledge of paleontological expeditions inthe Gobi desert by the American Museum of Natural His-tory. But in doing so, Dobson essentially defeats Mayor’s25 excitement-building pages leading up to her intrigu-ing thesis about griffins. His discussion of the griffinhypothesis also results in repetition in the volume. Factsand evidence are, in general, presented repeatedlythroughout this volume, but it is clear that the intentionof the author is to allow chapters to be independent ofeach other as case studies, should readers wish to read ona single topic in the book at different times.


Mayor’s goal is clear: “to recover the long-neglectedevidence of human encounters with fossils from the timeof Homer to the late Roman Empire (ca. 750 B.C.–A.D.500)” (3). Her goal is admirably achieved, her scope ex-tending even into modern times. She makes parallelsbetween the classical and modern worlds to illuminateaspects of our own monster culture. In chapter 1, forexample, she states that the Chinese traditionally referto all fossil extinct animals as “dragon bones.” Of coursethe Chinese are aware of differences in species, but we,as Mayor points out, also call all large Jurassic/Triassicbones “dinosaurs” even though we are aware that all spe-cies are not “terrible lizards” (21). In chapter 6, she drawsparallels to ancient human/animal composite hoaxes, liketritons, satyrs, and centaurs, to our modern compositehoaxes of mermaids, Bigfoot, and aliens (236). Mayor isthus successful in also showing the reader that the hu-man fascination with monsters and tendencies to forgefakes and report sightings of strange creatures are time-less and part of human nature.

The book is organized into six main chapters: (1) TheGold-Guarding Griffin: A Paleontological Legend, (2)Earthquakes and Elephants: Prehistoric Remains in Med-iterranean Lands, (3) Ancient Discoveries of Giant Bones,(4) Artistic and Archaeological Evidence for Fossil Dis-coveries, (5) Mythology, Natural Philosophy, and Fossils,and (6) Centaur Bones: Paleontological Fictions.

Mayor dives into her material in the first chapter withher most compelling hypothesis in the whole book: thatProtoceratops, the most common species found in the desertsbetween the Tien Shan and Altai Mountains, is the likelyinspiration for griffin motifs after 675 B.C. She also men-tions Psittacosaurus as another local species possibly con-tributing to the griffin image. Both species are beakedand appear to have lion-like bodies six to eight feet long.A photograph of a Psittacosaurus specimen would havebeen helpful instead of a hand drawing of a skull (fig.1.14). She shows with her use of maps that these fossilsare abundant in the gold-mining regions of the seventh-century B.C. Scythians, and miners would have encoun-tered the beaked skulls frequently. The combination offinds could have resulted in the myth of the gold-guard-ing griffins reported by Aristeas in his epic poem of 675B.C. The fossil finds may also have been the inspirationfor Aeschylus’s Prometheus Bound where Prometheus ischained to a cliff in Scythia, “a land of gorgons and grif-fins” (29). Mayor is convincing in her thorough accountof all the paleontological and literary evidence, but doesnot address the Bronze Age images of the griffin me-thodically. While she mentions the Mycenaean and NearEastern griffins in passing, she does not discuss the grif-fins in Minoan art. Her goal is to examine fossil encoun-ters from the time of Homer because she wishes to drawfrom ancient authors. Fair enough: the Bronze Age Ae-gean does not offer epic accounts and stories of griffins.Mayor is quite correct about the “boom” of griffin motifsafter the seventh century B.C., but griffins were very pop-ular in the Bronze Age as well. How then can we be surethat the griffin was not borrowed from earlier representa-tions, perhaps a renaissance triggered by Scythian folk-lore? The lamassu of Mesopotamia, geographically closerto these fossil beds, is a very popular creature in Iron Age

Near Eastern art and architecture. Apart from the humanhead, the winged body of lions and bulls is reminiscent ofa griffin-like composition. Did this motif play any role inthe Greek griffins emerging two centuries later?

Mayor’s griffin hypothesis is convincing for the Scyth-ian gold mining myths and the reports of Pausanias, PlinyPomponius, Aeschylus, Aristeas, Philostratus, Ctesias, Hero-dotus, and Aelian. At least some of these travelers/writerswould have seen evidence for the myths before acceptingthem, and fossils bones would have been very believable.

In the second chapter, Mayor deals with fossil beds inGreece, specifically the islands of Chios and Samos, andthe Pikermi and Megalopolis deposits. In these deposits,fossil elephants, giraffes, and rhinoceroses are common.Mayor discusses geological processes by which these bonesare preserved in these locations. I particularly appreciat-ed her insight into taphonomic processes of fossils, how awhole heap of extinct animals is discovered in one depos-it. Her explanations range from tectonic movements, tolandslides either on land or into the sea causing a rush ofwater, pooling the animals together in one area, the chang-es in the Tethys Sea that once covered Eurasia for 150million years, or forest fires that caused stampedes andstrandings. She has clearly thought about these aspectsof deposition. She mentions that Bos primigenius, massiveprehistoric cattle, disappeared in Greece and Italy around1850 B.C. We know, however, that this prehistoric cattlewas the same species of the European wild auroch, thelast of which was hunted in A.D. 1627 in Poland.

The third chapter again deals with giant bones, butthis time, Mayor discusses the ancient discoveries of fos-sil mammoths, elephants, rhinoceros, and giraffes. Sheleaves no doubt that heroes and titans survived as giantsin myths because of the discovery of massive bones. May-or presents even testimonia about giant bones havingbeen unearthed and reburied with honors as hero/an-cestor burials. We are reminded of the scene from Homerof the Trojan seer who advised the Greeks to fetch ahuge bone of Pelops displayed at Olympia in order thatthe walls of Troy should fall (104). The Delphic oracletold the Spartans to find the large bones of Orestes ifthey were to beat the Arcadian Tegea (110). Ajax’s giantbones were uncovered on the headland of Rhoteum(115). More relevant myths are presented and are allgeographically correlated with areas of Greece and Ana-tolia at which known fossil beds exist even today. Theevidence is so clear that one wonders how these paleon-tological clues could have been missed in centuries ofclassical studies. From the Monster of Joppa (Tel Aviv)myth with Perseus/Andromeda to the Dragons of Chiosdescribed by Apollonius of Tyana, Mayor shows that thesemyths were not only fantastical accounts, but based onpaleontological discoveries in these fossil rich areas.

Mayor reviews the iconographic representations andarchaeological finds of fossil bones around the Aegeanin chapter 4. The famous Caeretan column-krater (BMFA63.420) depicting Herakles and Hesione confronting theMonster of Troy is the most compelling evidence thatthe ancients did notice and incorporate fossil finds intheir oral and literary culture. The Monster of Troy rep-resented on this krater has traditionally been interpret-ed as a feeble attempt to render a monster coming out of


a cave entrance, based on oral descriptions. Mayor, how-ever, shows that the white-painted monster skull juttingout of a stone outcrop is a realistic rendition of a fossilskull of a Miocene giraffe with a broken premaxilla. Thejagged teeth are much like the selenodont teeth of thegiraffe in profile, and the jaw connects to the craniumwith a morphologically correct mandibular hinge. Thecomparanda of fossil finds from archaeological sites isequally as useful in this chapter.

Chapter 5 discusses natural history in light of mytho-logical tales. “Greek myth,” Mayor states, “is a complexskein of tales about the origins of the natural world andthe history of its earliest inhabitants” (193). She contin-ues to illustrate her point, referring to specific mythsand its ramifications in the natural world. For example,myths of destruction like the Gigantomachy and the“burning fields” may have been inspired by the large fos-sil beds often located in lignite (coal) deposits (198).The flood myth of Deucalion is another example of howlarge animals can become extinct and how they havecome to be buried together in one place. Not all myths,Mayor accepts, refer to giant heroes or mythical beasts;some may attempt to explain life on earth or previousspecies no longer living. Writers such as Anaximander ofMiletus, Empedocles, and Lucretius remarked on the fos-sil evidence of creatures no longer existing. Perhaps theyare the real fathers of paleontology.

Finally in the last chapter, Mayor presents the centaurand other composite human/animal creatures as hoaxesrather than interpretation directly from natural finds.Both Lucian and Aelian wrote of monster forgeries ondisplay in the Roman world. A pickled triton on display inantiquity sparked much awe for a few centuries while itwas preserved. Mayor suggests that it was a deliberatefabrication of two species sewn together (much like thecentaur in the University of Tennessee’s Library at Knox-ville). Peter Levi suggests that it may have been somemutation of nature preserved (232). From the ancientdescription of the remains and the story surroundingthem, I believe that the remains were no more than ahalf-decomposed fish or cetacean, like the New ZealandMonster, once believed to be a survivor of the plesiosaur,which turned out to be a half-decomposed cetacean ofabout 10 m long. The photographs, however, fooled theworld because plesiosaur features were clearly present inthe remains of the creature.

This book is a pleasure to read and I recommend it toclassicists and to folklorists interested in the classical world.The insight into human behavior is enough to attractanthropologists and laypeople to read this fascinatingaccount of paleontology in ancient times. As the authorstates, “The desire to somehow bring vanished creaturesback to life is an essentially human dream as ancient asGreek myths and as modern as Hollywood films about thelost worlds of dinosaurs” (227).

Deborah Ruscillo

department of anthropologywashington universitycampus box 1114st. louis, missouri [email protected]

The Practical Impact of Science on Near East-ern and Aegean Archaeology, edited by PikeScott and Seymour Gitin. (Wiener Laboratory Mono-graph 3.) Pp. 169, ills. 104. Archetype, London1999. $30. ISBN 1-873132-17-4 (paper).

Since 1992, the Wiener Laboratory has gained recog-nition as a promising research facility of the AmericanSchool of Classical Studies at Athens. As a research in-stitution, it organizes well-attended conferences whichchart the growing impact of the natural sciences onarchaeological research, especially in the eastern Med-iterranean area. The proceedings in the volume underreview belong to a series dealing with the comprehen-sive excavation techniques required for the recoveryand treatment of organic and inorganic coarse finds,such as seeds, grass grains, ash, bones, glass, pottery,and building materials debris (also see S.J. Vaughan andW.D.E. Coulson, eds., Paleodiet in the Aegean [Oxford2000]).

Scott and Gitin have collected the papers from a con-ference held in Israel, on the campuses of the Hebrew(Jerusalem) and Tel Aviv Universities in 1996. Thesestudies bring to light the trends toward open investiga-tion and reconstruction of past cultural and economicprocesses, founded upon high-standard interdisciplinarystudies. In addition to the fundamental applications ofchemical and physical investigation, taphonomy, petrog-raphy, and biology also play an extensive role, as in “TheApplication of Ancient DNA Analysis to ArchaeologicalProblems” by P. Smith and others (71–3). Archaeobotan-ical and archaeobiological strategies combine archaeo-logical awareness and up-to-date experimental tech-niques, and need to be integrated into excavation plan-ning from the start.

The volume divides the studies into three compre-hensive thematic sections: “Botanical Remains” (dietand agriculture), “Osteological Remains” (farming andburial), and “Geological and Other Material Studies”(construction and artifacts production). Changes in sub-sistence patterns, climatic variations, and alterations inthe community structure can be inferred from the geo-graphic and chronological distribution of bioarchaeo-logical finds, and the diversity of species can be de-duced if an orderly classification is envisaged. Such anapproach is most appropriate in regions that are dry insummer and sustain high evaporation rate—the MiddleEast thus presents a trove of organic remains. This isparticularly true for the contribution that archaeobota-ny can provide, when climate is favorable to natural car-bonization processes. Durable preservation of the greenparts of ancient plants is therefore ensured by theirtransformation in phytoliths. Their analysis and theensuing reconstruction can rebuild former vegetal en-vironments and past human-plant relationships: “TheContribution of Palynology and Anthracology to Archae-ological Research in the Southern Levant” by U. Baruch(17–27).

Common features in the papers include discussionsabout accurate sampling, the recovery of all informativedetails, and the need to incorporate sampling into the


whole archaeological design. The studies stress how sam-pling and implementation are as fundamental as feasi-ble. While the collected data produce valuable comple-mentary ethnographic evidence, recovery methodologiesthat ensure basic quality and completeness of the sampleassemblage, are available to the excavators at relativelylow additional cost.

Most authors sketch the peculiarity of their investiga-tive approaches, stressing aspects that are unique to theanalysis of their archaeological materials, and warningabout those anthropogenic and natural sources that mightinduce alterations on the constituents of the finds. As anexample, recent advances in forensic anthropology andtaphonomy show that recovery and documentation ofskeletal remains can offer much more information thanknowledge on age, sex, stature, and pathologies (e.g., D.Collins Cook in “Physical Anthropology in the Field: Rec-ognizing Cremation, Defleshing, Exposure and Second-ary Burials,” 43–6).

Regarding inorganic materials, the archaeologicalrecord can imply organizational relationships of contem-porary crafts and industries. The authors suggest thatsystematic sampling and geological analysis of the siteare important, especially if the data are to be exploitedto infer reliable insights into spatial and diachronic pat-terns of technology and social developments. Sarah J.Vaughan, in “Contributions of Petrography to the Studyof Archaeological Ceramics and Man-made Building Ma-terials in the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean” (117–25), cogently recommends that the analyst must be fa-miliar with the geological setting and the materials re-sources of a site. Analytical results are greatly reducedwhen local geological conditions have not been fullyexplored before samples are brought to the laboratoryand the excavation is closed.

Even when multidisciplinary advances in archaeologi-cal science and archaeology are predictable, it is impor-tant to develop and maintain an integrated and system-atic framework for archaeological science, as archaeolo-gists strive to blend contributions from different disci-plines. From this viewpoint, the importance of this col-lection of papers is straightforward: they contribute com-plementary schemes of classification, specific to each dis-cipline and they hint at standardized and integrated ad-vances in methodology. The papers continually presentnot just measurements and other raw data, but also sam-pling procedures, methodologies for gathering results,and developments in technical terminology, as well ascurrent references.

This collection, a useful source to archaeologists con-cerned with the Near East and the Aegean, is recom-mended especially to those specialists engaged in teach-ing field investigations.

Enzo Ferrara

materials departmentistituto elettrotecnico nazionale

galileo ferrarisstrada delle cacce, 9110135 [email protected]

The Man Who Deciphered Linear B: The Storyof Michael Ventris, by Andrew Robinson. Pp. 168,figs. 44, tables 2. Thames and Hudson, Londonand New York 2002. $19.95. ISBN 0-500-51077-6(cloth).

Andrew Robinson, author of The Story of Writing (Lon-don 1995) and an unproduced film script on the life ofMichael Ventris entitled “The Boy Who Beat the Ex-perts,” gives us now the full life of the man who deci-phered Minoan linear script Class B. Ventris succeededby using his distinctive intellectual gifts, his willingnessto learn from others, his need for play, and his commit-ment to methods of architectural problem-solving knownas “group working.” Robinson explains (160) that his bookis not written primarily for scholars, but his account ofhow work on the decipherment proceeded in the crucialyears between 1947 and 1952 is clear, insightful, accu-rate, and honest—and human. Of already published ac-counts, I recommend M. Pope, The Story of ArchaeologicalDecipherment, rev. ed. (London 1999) and E.J.W. Barber,Archaeological Decipherment: A Handbook (Princeton 1974).Both do proper honor to Alice Kober’s contribution tothe decipherment. Both set the Ventris deciphermentalongside other decipherments of ancient scripts. Read-ers also should explore Robinson’s recommendations forfurther reading on Ventris’s personal life and architec-tural work (160–4). Any truly scientific account of thedecipherment will be formidable even to specialized schol-ars. It will require detailed exegesis of Ventris’s “WorkNotes” and the letters and papers and publications of hisclosest collaborators (Alice Kober, Emmett L. Bennett,Jr., and Sir John L. Myres).

Having been over the same ground and in contactwith many of the same informants—including PrudenceSmith, Oliver Cox, and Andrew Robinson—for my ownwork on Ventris, Kober, and Bennett (cf. T.G. Palaima etal., eds., Unlocking the Secrets of Ancient Writing [Austin2000]), I can attest that Robinson has made judicious useof the archives of Ventris and his contemporaries at Cam-bridge University, the Ashmolean Museum, the Instituteof Classical Studies, and the Program in Aegean Scriptsand Prehistory. Robinson’s achievement here is best un-derstood by Oliver Cox, Ventris’s personal friend and ar-chitectural partner, and by Bennett, the professionalscholar whose spirit of work and play—and isolation—brought him into close rapport with Ventris. Robinsonmakes clear that Ventris’s decipherment methods werenot entirely logical. Ventris simultaneously used imagina-tive thinking, group working, and eventually the precisetechniques of analysis that he literally learned from Koberand Bennett. By example, he also induced wary scholarsto share their ideas openly with one another.

The myth that the decipherment was logical and inev-itable grew up naturally in Ventris’s own succinct posthoc discussions and was canonized in John Chadwick’sThe Decipherment of Linear B (Cambridge 1958). But Chad-wick was never part of Ventris’s “Minoan Scripts WorkGroup” and was writing when the Ventris deciphermentwas under attack, often unconscionably personal, byscholars ignorant of the mechanics of syllabic scripts and


the history of writing (153–8). Robinson helps us to seethe decipherment for what it was: a magnificent humanintellectual feat by a genius who inspired awe and affec-tion and who sought and ably used the help of others.

Thomas G. Palaima

program in aegean scripts and prehistorydepartment of classics1 university station c3400university of texas at austinaustin, texas [email protected]

Excavations at Franchthi Cave, Greece. Vol. 12,Depositional History of Franchthi Cave:Sediments, Stratigraphy and Chronology, byWilliam R. Farrand (with a report by Thomas W.Jacobsen). Pp. x + 135, figs. 20, pls. 8, tables 6. Indi-ana University Press, Bloomington 2000. $49.95.ISBN 0-253-21314-2 (paper).Franchthi Cave is without a doubt among the most

important prehistoric cave sites in southeastern Europe,providing rich and detailed windows on Upper Paleolith-ic, Mesolithic, and Neolithic peoples and their environ-ments in the southern Argolid. Beyond the wealth ofarchaeological and paleoenvironmental information yield-ed by the site, its importance grows with the steady streamof high-quality monographs that have appeared at an av-erage rate of almost one per year since T.W. Jacobsen andW.R. Farrand published the first fascicle in 1987 (Franch-thi Cave and Paralia [Bloomington]). William Farrand wasone of the first practitioners and innovators in the fieldof geoarchaeology, and has consistently set the standardthrough a series of ground-breaking studies of cave sed-iments in France, southwestern Asia, and now Greece.His fascicle on the geoarchaeology of Franchthi Cave isthus a most welcome addition to the Franchthi library.

The monograph contains seven chapters and threeappendices. The first four chapters provide backgroundinformation about the organization of the Franchthiproject (written by Jacobsen), excavation history, geo-logical setting, and “lithostratigraphy.” Lithostratigraphyis a bit of a mouthful, but Farrand is at pains to provide asobjective a description as possible without recourse tothe biostratigraphic or ethnostratigraphic (a.k.a., cultur-al, historical, or typological) determinations of his col-leagues. Each material type has its own story to tell; thosehoping for a unified stratigraphic scheme will have towait a little longer. Creation of a lithostratigraphy for thesite must have been a Herculean task. Having joined theproject only for the last excavation season (1976), Far-rand had to contend with illegible and mobile unit labelson sections, field notebooks of variable quality and com-pleteness, and the ubiquitous problem of correlating whatwas dug with what was drawn in section. Farrand usedsedimentological analyses in the laboratory and radiocar-bon dates to corroborate independently and test the va-lidity of his lithostratigraphy. Many of the significantstrata and sections are illustrated with photographs; fur-ther plates and especially color photographs would have

been welcome. Nonetheless, the result is a convincingscheme of 15 strata for interpreting the sedimentary his-tory of the site.

In chapter 5 Farrand presents his sedimentologicalanalyses; he clearly describes his sampling and analyticalmethods, and focuses interpretation around issues of sed-iment source and postdepositional modification. Farrand’sanalyses of sediment sources show that deposition in thecave was episodic, even catastrophic, as when an estimat-ed 1800 metric tons of cave roof collapsed in the centerof the cave beneath one of the “windows” at or near theend of the Neolithic occupation of the cave. Earlier epi-sodes of bedrock collapse capped the top of Upper Pale-olithic as well as Mesolithic occupations at the cave. Whilethese rocky strata with little fine matrix resemble theéboulis sec formed in caves by freeze-thaw processes incold climates, a genesis of such deposits in the southernArgolid is not plausible, even during the rigors of the lastglacial maximum approximately 20,000–15,000 years ago.Farrand suggests earthquakes as the most likely cause ofthese rockfalls. In a rare moment of speculation, Farrandfurther suggests that the observation and memory of suchgeological catastrophes may have discouraged local peo-ple from using the cave for a number of generations,thus accounting for the apparent breaks in occupationthat followed on each major rockfall episode. Human ac-tivities provide other important sources of sediment andtheir modification. Farrand suggests that land-snail shellsare an important index of human activity at the site (mak-ing the assumption that Helix figulina, at times hyper-abundant, was a food resource) as well as source of sedi-ment. In fact, many of the sand-sized particles in somestrata derive from crushed snail shells, leading Farrand torun many of his granulometric analyses a second time ondecalcified samples. Farrand thus uses a range of lines ofevidence to begin to reconstruct the tempo and intensi-ty of human activities at Franchthi Cave.

Farrand integrates the rich radiocarbon record fromFranchthi with the lithostratigraphy and sedimentologyin chapter 6. The 60 absolute dates (59 radiocarbon, onethermoluminescence) make Franchthi one of the mostintensively dated prehistoric sites in Greece. Farrand usesthe dates to show that his inter-trench stratigraphic cor-relations are correct. More significantly, he uses theseabsolute dates in conjunction with other indicators ofdepositional hiatuses to reconstruct sedimentation rates.The results are remarkable, showing that sedimentationrates varied from a quiet trickle of only 4.2 cm/100 yearsto a veritable deluge of 250 cm/100 years. High sedi-mentation rates are associated with other indicators ofintense human activity during the lower and middle Me-solithic occupations; this correlation is not surprising,although the magnitude of the increase is. On the otherhand, sedimentation rates during the formation of thesnail-shell middens of the Upper Paleolithic were notparticularly high. This observation raises further ques-tions with regards to how and why such snail-shell mid-dens were forming. If the episodic nature of human ac-tivities at Franchthi had not already become clear, Far-rand provides a telling illustration at the end of the chap-ter (fig. 6.4); most of this timeline is taken up by hiatus-es in deposition/habitation, regardless of whether one


considers the entire sequence or just the Holocene por-tion of it. Farrand weaves these different arguments intoa single narrative of the “Evolution of the Cave Filling”in chapter 7. This chapter is an excellent summary of thesedimentary history of Franchthi. It stands very well onits own if one does not have the time and luxury of read-ing the entire monograph.

Farrand has treated us over the last 12 years to occa-sional glimpses of Franchthi’s geoarchaeology throughseveral preliminary articles, and it is a pity that the pro-duction of this fascicle was also episodic and marked byhiatuses. Nevertheless, the monograph was certainlyworth the wait, and overall it is an excellent study of thegeoarchaeology of Franchthi Cave. Using granulometrictechniques and low-budget geochemistry, Farrand paintsa convincing, well-documented, and well-supported pic-ture of the history of the interplay between sedimenta-tion and human activities at the site. Farrand by no meansexhausts the list of “scientific” techniques he could haveemployed, and some researchers might find the studylimited by its close attendance to traditional approachesand methods. In the present case, vive la tradition! Bykeeping it simple, Farrand’s study is cost-effective (inexecution) and elegant, but most importantly, equallyunderstandable to both specialists and generalists. Far-rand’s study serves as an excellent introduction to cavegeoarchaeology, and I would not hesitate to assign it inan advanced undergraduate or graduate course. I strong-ly recommend this monograph to anyone interested ingeoarchaeology, Greek prehistory, and the human use ofcaves.

Preston Miracle

department of archaeologyuniversity of cambridgecambridge cb2 3dzunited [email protected]

Tiryns 12: Figürlich bemalte Keramik ausTiryns, by Wolfgang Güntner. Pp. 391, pls. 88.Philipp von Zabern, Mainz 2001. DM 168; € 85.90.ISBN 3-8053-1887-1 (cloth).Tiryns 12 presents the Mycenaean figure-style pottery

from K. Kilian’s 1976–1985 excavations at this majorBronze Age coastal site in the northeast Peloponnese.The book follows upon the study by E. Slenczka of similarmaterial from earlier excavations, which was publishedunder the same title in volume 7 of the Tiryns series(Mainz 1974).

Like the earlier publication, the one under review hasits origins in a doctoral thesis which, after having beenreworked and shortened, was accepted for publication in1990. Because of the untimely deaths of two editors ofthe Tiryns series, Drs. Kilian and C. Podzuweit, and forother reasons beyond the author’s control, it has takenanother ten years for the book to appear in print. Asstated in the preface, dated January 1995, studies onMycenaean pictorial pottery published since 1990 haveeither not fully been taken into account or not consid-ered at all. This applies in particular to The Mycenaean

Pictorial Style in the National Museum at Athens (Athens1992) by J.A. Sakellarakis and to Well Built Mycenae 21:Mycenaean Pictorial Pottery (Oxford 1991) by this review-er, but also to papers such as S.A. Immerwahr, “The Myce-naean Pictorial Style 50 Years Later,” in Wace and Blegen,edited by C. Zerner (Amsterdam 1993) 217–23, C.E.Morris, “Hands up for the Individual!” CAJ 3 (1993) 41–66, and J.H. Crouwel and C.E. Morris, “The Beginningsof Mycenaean Pictorial Vase Painting,” (AA 1996) 197–219. Curiously, references are also lacking to H.W.Catling’s archaeological comments on Mycenaean picto-rial pottery in Greek and Cypriote Pottery by R.J. Jones (Ath-ens 1986).

This being said, the new Tiryns volume must be con-sidered a standard work on the subject of Mycenaeanfigure-style pottery, taking as its starting point a corpusof no less than 437 (fragmentary) pieces, many of themfrom the so-called Unterburg.

The first part of the book begins with a summary sec-tion (7–8) dealing with clays, paints, and surface treat-ments, on the basis of which most pieces are assigned toone of six ceramic classes. Next comes a brief section onthe vase shapes represented, open or closed, among whichkraters predominate. Then follows the catalogue whichis organized according to pictorial motifs with the vasesin chronological order: chariots (34 examples), humanfigures (31), hunting dog (3), lion (1), bulls (60), deer(11), goat (11), hare (1), hedgehog (2), unidentifiedanimals (58), birds (129), fish (23), octopus (45), andunidentified motifs (23). It may be noted that the mate-rial is mostly dated on stylistic rather than stratigraphicalgrounds, the find contexts providing no more than aterminus post quem non (15). The catalogue descrip-tions are in the main excellent and to the point.

Several pieces stand out: early (LH III A:1) fragmentsof different vase shapes showing human figures (Mensch1–3), krater fragments depicting rowers (Mensch 17 and18), a horse rider shown next to a chariot (Wagen 7), ora human figure apparently being attacked by a (winged?)creature behind a chariot (Wagen 15), and an octopusstirrup jar decorated in the Close Style (Vogel 87). Alsoincluded are the intriguing jar fragments showing a char-iot race along with a seated, probably female, figure hold-ing up a kylix, that have already been discussed by Kilianand others (Wagen 17).

Omitted from the catalogue and illustrations but re-peatedly mentioned later in the text are the fragmentsof a bull rhyton decorated with a procession of goats anda flute-playing “demon-like” creature from an early LHIII C shrine in the Unterburg (252, 256, Ziege 56).

Each entry is illustrated by one or more scale drawings,presenting both profile and frontal views. Where possi-ble, the drawings include helpful partial reconstructionsof the original shapes and designs. Photographs are alto-gether absent, in sharp contrast to Tiryns 7 where theexcellent photographs were supplemented by profile draw-ings of rim sherds and by only a few drawings of thedecoration. The new book would have profited from theinclusion of at least a selection of photographs, partly inorder to illustrate the fabric and surface finish or thethree-dimensional curve of the fragments.

In the second part of the book the new Tiryns materi-al is given its place alongside Mycenaean figure-style


pottery from earlier excavations at the same site as wellas from other sites in mainland Greece, the Aegean is-lands, Cyprus, and the Levant.

First, there is an extensive discussion of the individualiconographical motifs and of stylistic developments ingeneral. The latter are traced through seven chronolog-ical phases: LH III A:1, LH III A:2, LH III B:1, LH III B:2,end LH III B, early LH III C, LH III C entwickelt/fortge-schnitten, the latter phase being equivalent to LH III CMiddle, a term used by P.A. Mountjoy and others. Someconfusion exists as to the distinction between the stylis-tic phases “end LH III B” and “early LH III C”; whilemostly treated separately in the book, they are groupedtogether on pages 332–3.

Güntner’s treatment of stylistic developments presentsan important advance on the scheme presented by E.Vermeule and V. Karageorghis in their comprehensive1982 study Mycenaean Pictorial Vase Painting (Cambridge,Mass.). There, the finds from Greece and those fromCyprus and the Levant were largely viewed separately,while here they are fully integrated, which results in afuller picture within a revised chronological framework.Of note is the fairly large number of pieces from Tirynsand elsewhere that are attributed to early LH III C, ap-parently again mainly on stylistic rather than stratigraph-ical grounds. It is not made fully clear, however, how todistinguish early LH III C figure-style pottery from thatof middle LH III C, the latter being a phase of increasedproduction of often elaborately and imaginatively deco-rated pictorial and other ceramics, attested at Tiryns andelsewhere. Thus, we may question whether the attribu-tion of certain elaborate pieces to early rather than mid-dle LH III C is in fact correct. Such pieces are, for in-stance, the above-mentioned jar fragments with a chari-ot race (from an unknown find context in the Unter-burg at Tiryns), chariot krater fragments (Wagen 23, froma middle LH III C context also in the Unterburg) andanother krater fragment showing a fleeing deer (Jagd 2,from an unknown context at Tiryns). In this connection,no products of early LH III C have been identified amongthe two sizeable collections of pictorial pottery most fa-miliar to this reviewer, from nearby Mycenae or fromLefkandi on Euboea. None of the pictorial finds, howev-er, from Tiryns is assigned by Güntner to late LH III C. Incontrast, there are a few pieces from Mycenae and othersites in the Peloponnese which have been dated to thisphase (see Mountjoy, Regional Decorated Mycenaean Pot-tery [Rahden 1999] figs. 58:439, 59:448, 123:132, 124:139,and 125:141–2).

A section on individual painters and workshops in-cludes a well-balanced appraisal of earlier attributions.Particularly interesting is the discussion of the Painter ofthe Shield Bearers, known mainly from finds at Tirynsand Mycenae, and his “circle” (354–7). Among the newlyproposed artists is the Painter of the Tiryns Sphinx, towhom no fewer than 11 pieces are assigned (357–8).

The next section, on the distribution of Mycenaeanpictorial pottery, is accompanied by maps designed ac-cording to the stylistic phases identified earlier. After abrief summary, there are concordances relating Güntner’slist of motifs to earlier publications of pictorial potteryfrom Tiryns and to entries in that other standard work byVermeule and Karageorghis.

Tiryns now firmly ranks first in terms of the amount ofpublished Mycenaean pictorial pottery. The recently pub-lished results of neutron activation analysis of a selectionof Güntner’s pieces confirm that many of the finds wereindeed produced at or near the site and not at the othertwo major find places of this class of ceramics in the north-east Peloponnese, Mycenae and Berbati (H. Mommsenand J. Maran, “Production Places of Some MycenaeanPictorial Vessels,” OpAth 25–6 [2000–2001] 95–106).

Joost Crouwel

amsterdams archeologisch centrumuniversiteit van amsterdamnieuwe prinsengracht 1301018 vz amsterdamthe [email protected]

Manufacture and Measurement: Counting,Measuring and Recording Craft Items inEarly Aegean Societies, edited by AnnaMichailidou, with Pigi Kalogerakou and KaterinaVoutsa. (Research Centre for Greek and RomanAntiquity, Meletemata 33.) Pp. 349. ResearchCentre for Greek and Roman Antiquity, NationalHellenic Research Foundation, Athens 2001.ISBN 960-7905-12-1 (cloth).This volume brings together in English translation the

work of nine Greek scholars at various stages of theircareers, from Ph.D. candidates to senior researchers. Itsaim is not to analyze but to inform: to draw togetherevidence from the Stone and Bronze Ages for craft itemsand how quantities of them were measured and record-ed. This prosaic subject was in need of such treatment,and it is good to have the evidence for a variety of craftsdrawn together in a single volume. At the same time, theefforts by several authors to reach the human mind be-hind the practical efforts of measuring and recordingenrich the enterprise.

After an introduction by the editor outlining the gen-esis of the book and its contents, part 1 focuses on theacts of counting and measuring: C. Marangou, “Evidencefor Counting and Recording in the Neolithic?”; A. Kar-nava, “Fractions and Measurement Units in the CretanHieroglyphic Script”; and A. Michailidou, “Script andMetrology.”

Marangou offers a useful theoretical discussion of thecognitive function of artifacts, and of basic forms ofcounting. She then turns to the realia of the Paleolithicto Neolithic periods, giving a thorough review of evi-dence from the Near East, Greece, and the Balkans. Alsopresented are the pros and cons of such theories as theuse of clay (rarely stone) tokens in the Near East as aprecursor of writing, to signify various commodities andtallies of them. Karnava explains why “klasmatograms”(script signs that occasionally follow numerical entries)on hieroglyphic documents are best understood as frac-tional signs. From this general relationship between theact of measuring and the act of writing as a means ofrecording measurements, Michailidou turns to their point


of intersection: balance weights inscribed with scriptsigns. She discusses nine possible such artifacts from theAegean (some more doubtful than others), and concludesfrom their rarity and the diversity of their shape, size,and inscriptions (in contrast to Egyptian and Near East-ern examples) that inscribing balance weights was not aregular practice in the Bronze Age Aegean.

Part 2 of the volume deals with the recording of spe-cific types of commodities in the Linear B tablets, andthe relevant archaeological evidence: A. Michailidou,“Recording Quantities of Metal in Bronze Age Societiesin the Aegean and the Near East”; A. Dialismas, “MetalArtifacts as Recorded in the Linear B tablets”; K. Voutsa,“Mycenaean Craftsmen in Palace Archives”; I. Tzachili,“Circulation of Textiles in the Late Bronze Age Aegean”and “Counting and Recording Textiles in the Mycenae-an Archives of Knossos”; A. Sarpaki, “Condiments, Per-fume and Dye Plants in Linear B”; and K. Trantalidou,“Producing and Recording Leather and Other AnimalProducts.”

Michailidou includes valuable comparative evidencefrom the Near East and Egypt for the values and quanti-ties of different metals. A comparison between metalsrecorded in Linear B and those in circulation in LM IAAkrotiri sheds interesting light on the private sector ofthe Mycenaean economy that is not well represented inthe texts. Dialismas recapitulates the Linear B evidencein more detail, and with good sense. Voutsa collects tab-let references to 52 craft occupations (I count 47 in herdiscussion). It would have been helpful to give a table ofthe various terms and the site(s) where each occurs, onwhich part of her analysis depends (160). This could haveincluded the partial information she does tabulate, sort-ing the occupations by their derivations (from raw mate-rials, finished products, or tools used). Her decision (148n. 16) to use the term “rations” for payments to all kindsof workers leads to some confusion, since the term isconventionally restricted to monthly allocations to fullydependent workers. In her short first chapter, Tzachilioffers the interesting correlation that archaeologicalevidence for spinning and weaving is most frequent inAegean island ports, and that the dependent textile work-ers in the Pylos Aa/Ab/Ad tablets also come from portsites (Knidos, Chios, Lemnos, etc.). Her conclusion (173)that the textile trade was exclusively intra-Aegean, how-ever, will meet with some skepticism. This is one of onlya few large-scale industries conducted and monitored ingreat detail by the palace administrations, and on a scaleapt for long-distance exchange. Tzachili’s second chap-ter reaches only limited conclusions, but covers how tex-tiles were grouped (by kind, quality, and color). The lasttwo chapters include a fascinating array of informationfrom archaeobotany and archaeozoology, as well as com-paranda from the Near East and from classical Greeceand Rome, to accompany the discussions of Linear Bterms. Sarpaki also discusses various interpretations ofdebated Mycenaean Greek words, and offers four newones (summarized, 235–6): that sa-sa-ma need not meansesame; that ki-ta-no is ladanum, a product of the rock-rose; that sa-pi-de are boxes of opium; and that po-ni-ki-jois silk thread dyed with purple from the murex shell. Thefirst two proposals are linguistically problematic, and thelast seems difficult in that po-ni-ki-jo seems to be a raw

material, not a finished product. Readers will form theirown opinions, though, from the evidence presented.Trantalidou has fewer tablet references to work with thanSarpaki, so that the relevance of comparanda to Myce-naean society can be suggested but less often demon-strated.

The book ends with an appendix by A. Dialismas (“TheDatabases on the Quantities Recorded in Linear B Tab-lets”), describing the searchable database project thatgave rise to this publication. The result (in MicrosoftAccess) will be a valuable source of information (for read-ers of modern Greek) on what commodities the tabletsmention, and how their quantities were recorded. At thetime of publication the project covered raw materials (onlythose certainly or possibly recorded by weight) and thefinished products made from them. An extension to cov-er other goods will require further funding. The data-base also includes sections on bibliography and occupa-tional terms. The project also has compiled a separate,more general database of bibliography on the recordingof measurements (I assume this is what is meant by “thecentral aim of our research,” 323). Each chapter is pro-vided with its own bibliography. There is an index ofLinear B tablets, words, and logograms, but no generalindex.

The volume is extremely helpful, then, in focusingattention on the mechanics of counting, weighing, andrecording quantities, and the cultural implications ofchoices made in this regard by the Mycenaeans and oth-er ancient societies. Beyond this, it will be useful chieflyas a repository of information, both about the commodi-ties themselves and about their occurrences in Linear B.There is little analysis in some chapters, and conflictingviews may be presented with little assistance to the read-er in choosing between them. But the variety of infor-mation is interesting, and sometimes surprising: for ex-ample, evidence from Old Assyrian Kanesh leads to thesuggestion that Mycenaean palaces controlled weaponsproduction more tightly than other bronze working (92);the limited use of wool in Egypt should be considered inevaluating Aegean exports of this material (170–1); andPylos and Mycenae deal more with exotic, imported con-diments than Knossos (236). The range is so wide that allreaders will find new things to learn, and perhaps some-thing from their own knowledge to add. Let me offer anexample here: there is, in fact, archaeological support(denied, 125) that the palace distributed alloyed bronzeto smiths; LH IIIB smiths at Nichoria were remeltingbronze, not smelting copper and tin (C.W. Shelmerdine,AJA 85 [1981] 319–25). This evidence supports takingka-ko and its ideogram AES as bronze (with Dialismas)rather than copper (with Michailidou).

Along with these virtues, however, the book is marredby a disturbing number of inaccuracies, particularly in re-gard to Linear B data and their interpretation. A few ex-amples in four areas will show where caution is needed.

Conventions. Dotted quantities are rarely noted, as arethe brackets that indicate a word or number is or may beincomplete. Logographic conventions are also sometimesmisunderstood: coriander is quantified with dry measuresymbols, so cannot be oil (216 n. 175); table 3 with nn.4–5 misrepresents PO, which is actually an adjunct to theoil logogram, and thus quantities of oil on tablets Fr 1203


and 1208 are underreported by a factor of 3.25 and 4.38respectively (240). The designation PO also should havebeen discussed in connection with po-ni-ki-jo (221–3 andtable 13).

Linguistic and grammatical problems. qa-si-re-u is a noun,not an adjective (88); and the suggestion (160 n. 87)about ku-te-re-u-pi is grammatically impossible.

Misreporting. The notion that the same commodity maybe recorded on all the Knossos Og tablets (103–4) isdisproved by the texts themselves, which list lead, linen,ivory, and perhaps tin, as well as an unspecified commod-ity (123); the catalogue of textile types includes wronginformation (180–2), and all quantities should be checkedcarefully against the tablets themselves (some examplesfrom the Lc tablets [181–2]: section 1, 6 not 7 entries; 4and 5, entries omitted; 5, entries not “invariably in thesecond line”).

Matters of interpretation. The allotment system (ta-ra-si-ja) used to allocate bronze to smiths at Pylos ensures thatthe finished products are to be returned to the palace(pace 106); this is clear from Knossos records of ta-ra-si-jatextiles and wheels being thus returned. If wi-ri-no is notaccepted as cowhide (/wrinos/) (285), why is the hidelogogram +WI accepted as cowhides?

These may seem to be small details, but they are nottrivial. Such matters constitute, after all, the express top-ic of the volume, and all inferences and conclusions there-in fail if the facts they depend on are wrong. The bookshould not, therefore, be used without constant refer-ence to tablet publications and to F. Aura Jorro’s Dicciona-rio micénico 1 and 2 (Salamanca 1985, 1993). With thiscaveat, however, it will be a valuable source of informa-tion and bibliography on ancient accounting practicesand especially on all the commodities that interestedMycenaean administrators.

Cynthia W. Shelmerdine

university of texas at austindepartment of classics1 university station, g5100austin, texas [email protected]

Die Gräberfelder in Samad al Shan (SultanatOman): Materialen zu einer Kulturges-chichte, by Paul Yule. (Orient Archäologie 4.)Vol. 1, Text. Pp. xxi + 514, figs. 44, tables 59. Vol. 2,Tafeln. Pp. 611, figs. 575, b&w pls. 90, color pls.13, maps 36. Marie Leidorf, Rahden 2001. DM151. ISSN 1434-162x; ISBN 3-89646-634-8 (cloth).Oman is mostly known to scholars involved in Near

Eastern archaeology as ancient Magan/Makkan, men-tioned in different cuneiform texts. It was the regionknown for its copper production and as possible purveyorof diorite. But how many scholars know anything aboutits archaeology? Too often the varied and various materi-al cultures of the Arabian shores of the Persian Gulf andOman are not considered in most works dealing with theNear East. Ongoing research over a couple of decadesdemonstrates, however, the basic interest of this area,

which was actively involved with trading and exchangeactivities between the Indus, Iran, Mesopotamia, and evenbeyond.

The difficulty of access because of the mountainousterrain hampers research, although in recent years nu-merous roads have been made, and villages are rapidlyexpanding, quickly destroying numerous sites. Since the1970s different teams, local as well as foreign, have beentrying to get a clearer archaeological picture of the dif-ferent cultural developments that took place.

A German team, directed by Gerd Weisgerber, fromthe Deutschen Bergbau-Museum (“German Mining-Mu-seum”) in Bochum has in no small way contributed to abetter knowledge of Oman. Paul Yule, who participatedin several expeditions, publishes now the results of thisresearch in the Samad area, central Oman, between 1980and 1991. The lavishly illustrated and well-documentedpublication is the result of Yule’s “Habilitation” thesis atHeidelberg.

In the Samad area 13 cemeteries were researched, con-taining 361 tombs to be dated in terms of Omani archae-ology to the Wadi Suq (Middle/Late Bronze Age; mainlysecond millennium), Lizq-Rumeilah (Iron Age up to ca.300 B.C.) and Samad periods (last centuries B.C./firstcenturies A.D.; roughly the Seleuco-Parthian and even-tually Sasanian periods). Most of the tombs were badlyrobbed and several contained a mix of material of differ-ent periods. Of these periods the Samad is best repre-sented by some 2,356 objects, Lizq by 168 items only,and Wadi Suq by 205, beads excluded.

Chapters include the history of research of the area,the environment, burial architecture, the finds, distribu-tion and chronology, sexing and age determination aswell as an historical-sociologic analysis. An elaborate de-scriptive catalogue of almost 200 pages is also included inthe text volume. Numerous tables and charts accompanythe different parts. Volume 2, with the illustrations, con-tains good drawings of all tombs and objects, as well asclear maps, a good range of black and white photographs,and some color plates of major objects.

Besides the fact that the book is written in German(but there are summaries, English in 7 pages, and Arabicin 6), which might unfortunately be a problem for somescholars, it is also far from user-friendly. There are no lessthan 224 different abbreviations, which have been usedfor different purposes, and no less than 2,214 footnotes,which is too much of a good thing. This publication rep-resents certainly an enormous and painstaking work bythe author, but it resulted in a rather hermetic text. Schol-ars interested in this area and these periods should, how-ever, not be daunted too quickly, since it contains a wealthof information. In consulting it, take your time, make aphotocopy of the list of abbreviations, and keep calmwhen you first glimpse the numbering and coding sys-tem. A separate user manual could have been useful inthe introduction. The information on the applied systemis indeed provided in the different chapters, but one hasto search carefully for it and write it down, before forget-ting it again.

Also, readers should not expect to find a clear presen-tation of which material belongs to which period. Whatdifferences can be traced in pottery or metal objects,one wonders? The reader is kept in the dark, hungry,


although a simple visual presentation on separate platesof a theoretical burial assemblage for each period couldhave easily remedied this shortcoming. This would havebeen of great help, particularly for scholars who are notacquainted with the Oman material and who wished tosee immediately a classification by period of the mosttypical objects. Material of some 2,000 years is presentednow as a cocktail of 497 find-classes, and an additional157 ones for the beads, which renders it difficult to swal-low. Also, Yule follows an alphabetical order for the dif-ferent categories of objects or types, which creates astrange presentation; why did he not make a much sim-pler division by material? On the other hand, a less con-fusing presentation could have been obtained by simplyconcentrating on the material of the Samad period andby eventually keeping the objects of the Wadi Suq andLizq/Rumeilah periods for another publication.

Numerous tables are included in the volume, but onceagain several are so complex that one can doubt theirfunctionality. A simpler presentation could have beenmuch more relevant and easier to handle for the reader.

Also, I wonder why the author extends the date of theSamad period into the 10th century A.D., although thereis no material to be dated later than the second, or per-haps even the third–fourth centuries A.D. The bulk ofthe Samad material is certainly of the first century B.C.to the first century A.D.; it can be dated by the importedobjects, which came in during the heyday of internation-al trade between East and West.

Yet, in spite of these criticisms, this volume is certainlya fundamental and most welcome contribution to thestudy of a remote and relatively little explored area, whichis too often ignored. The Near East is larger than justAnatolia, Syria, or Mesopotamia.

Ernie Haerinck

department of near eastern artand archaeology

ghent universityb-9000 [email protected]

Hacksilber to Coinage: New Insights into theMonetary History of the Near East andGreece, A Collection of Eight Papers Pre-sented at the 99th Annual Meeting of theArchaeological Institute of America, editedby Miriam S. Balmuth. (Numismatic Studies 24.)Pp. 134, figs. 22, pls. 21. The American Numis-matic Society, New York 2001. $50. ISSN 051-7404-X; ISBN 0-89722-281-4 (paper).Originally delivered as papers at the AIA meetings in

1997, the eight contributions to this volume present stud-ies of pre-monetary silver and its function, arranged infive subject areas: Iron Age Israel (E. Stern, “The SilverHoard from Tel Dor”; S. Gitin and A. Golani, “The TelMiqne-Ekron Silver Hoards: The Assyrian and Phoeni-cian connections”; W.G. Dever, “The Silver Trail: Responseto the Papers of Ephraim Stern and Seymour Gitin”);

pre-monetary silver usage in Greece (J.H. Kroll, “Obser-vations on Monetary Instruments in Pre-coinageGreece”); the concept of coinage and its relationship tothe ancient Greek economy (D.M. Schaps, “The Concep-tual Prehistory of Money and Its Impact on the GreekEconomy”); early electrum coinage in Greece (P.T. Key-ser and D.D. Clark, “Analyzing and Interpreting the Met-allurgy of Early Electrum Coins”; R. Wallace, “Remarks onthe Value and Standards of Early Electrum Coins”); andlead-isotope analysis of pre-monetary silver and early sil-ver coinage in the Mediterranean (Z.A. Stos-Gale, “TheImpact of the Natural Sciences on Studies of Hacksilberand Early Silver Coinage”). Published in an explicitlynumismatic series, this volume may not attract the atten-tion it most definitely deserves from archaeologists, an-cient historians, and classicists, but the content is uni-formly interesting.

The German term Hacksilber refers to scrap silver—pieces of broken bracelets, bits of ingots, attachmentsfrom earrings, sheet metal—which were valued by weightand functioned in silver payments before the inventionof coinage. As Miriam Balmuth says in her preface (9),“The purpose of the colloquium [at the AIA meeting]was to bring together scholars who have been involvedin the analysis and interpretation of evidence of the useof silver as monetary material.” As Balmuth notes, thereare now more than 50 sites extending from Cyprus andIsrael in the west to Bahrain and Media in the east, atwhich hoards of pre-coinage Hacksilber have been docu-mented. The study of such hoards, combined with newthinking on the origins of coinage, led to the 1997 col-loquium and the present publication.

Stern opens the substantive portion of the volumewith his chapter on an 8.5 kg silver hoard found in a jar atTel Dor (Israel) and dated, on stratigraphic and ceramicgrounds, to the late 11th to early 10th century B.C. Hap-pily for the archaeologist, not only was the hoard con-tained in a linen bag, sealed with a clay bulla, but thebulla was stamped with a scarab seal which had familiarMiddle Bronze Age II designs. Atomic absorption analy-sis of silver (actually electrum, with at least 11% gold)samples points to the Rio Tinto mines of southern Spainas a possible source for some of the material, an observa-tion which leads Stern to speculate on Phoenician silverproduction in Spain as early as the 11th century B.C.

Six more hoards from Israel are presented by S. Gitinand A. Golani, this time dating to the Iron Age. Thesehoards, found at Tel Miqne, the ancient Philistine city ofEkron, are extremely important, for they allow us to seejust how variable the composition of Hacksilber hoardsmight be at one site and, more or less, at one historicalmoment in time. The percentages of Hacksilber, silveringots, complete silver jewelry, broken or cut jewelry, andnon-silver items varies considerably in each hoard (table2.1). In raw, numerical terms, the hoards contain as fewas 12 and as many as 786 pieces, and the silver weightranges from 19 to 1419.6 gr. Interestingly, Assyrian sourcesrecord payments in silver to Sennacherib by a king ofEkron in 699 B.C. (37).

In his commentary on the papers by Stern and Gitinand Golani, W.G. Dever makes a number of interestingobservations. For example, he refers to the long-stand-ing debate over the means by which the Proto-Canaanite


alphabet was spread to Greece, Sardinia, and elsewhere,in the context of the potential trade between southernSpain and the Phoenician east implied by the atomicabsorption analysis of some of the Tel Dor electrum finds(49). Dever also notes that the concept of “Dark Age,”into which the Tel Dor hoard would surely fall, is beingsteadily eroded as more and more discoveries illuminatean era which, quite obviously, suffered as much from alack of data as from the depredations of the Sea Peoples.

The question of provenance is the primary concern ofZ. Stos-Gale in her paper on lead-isotope analysis of sil-ver, lead, and Hacksilber from sites in Greece, Israel, Spain,Cyprus, and Iran. While controversial, these analyses sug-gest that at Tel Miqne, for example, the silver in circula-tion may have originated in Greece, Spain, and Iran (72).Clearly the data must be interpreted with care, but thestudy is helpful in that it provides a wealth of materialand brings together much of the work carried out in thepast 20 years by N. Gale and Z. Stos-Gale.

In a wide-ranging and extremely stimulating paper,J.H. Kroll discusses Phoenician antecedents of the Eubo-ic stater; the more broadly Near Eastern antecedents forthe use of pre-coinage silver in Greece; the Archaic Greekusage of iron spits as “primitive currency”; and the Solo-nian laws in relation to silver usage. As Kroll concludes,“Like other influences from the East such as the alpha-bet, the monetary use of silver was not so much adoptedby the Greeks as it was adapted, as in the case of south-ern Greece where the monetary use of silver was adaptedto a pre-existing value system based on iron spits” (88).Kroll’s paper is critiqued by D.M. Schaps, however, whorejects the notion that a bullion economy existed inGreece, “of the sort that we see in Mesopotamia and inPhoenicia” (95), in which silver was weighed, prior to theintroduction of full-blown coinage. Rather, according toSchaps, “it was the inefficiency and clumsiness of utensilmoney for the growing internal trade that made coinageso attractive to the Greeks” (96), and “if there had beena fully developed bullion economy in Greece, coinagewould not have spread as it did” (97).

The last two papers in this collection examine earlyelectrum coinage in Greece. As Keyser and Clark pointout, Pliny’s definition of electrum as gold alloyed with aminimum of 20% silver is problematic, given that “goldfrom the earth is a continuum ranging from mostly sil-ver through nearly pure gold; one ought to speak ofnatural (or ‘native’) electrum, and only of ‘gold’ or ‘sil-ver’ when it is artificial, i.e. when it has been purified orrefined. Thus any ancient artifact described as ‘gold’ isprobably not gold but is instead electrum” (105). Thepuzzle of the early electrum coins issued by Lydia isclear. The coinage contained what was to the consumeran indeterminate percentage of gold and silver (withcopper added for hardening); the coins were thus “pro-duced from a valuable material” (116), but one whichthe Lydian state overvalued (i.e., in relation to purergold); and the coinage did not circulate outside of Ly-dia. Taking these factors together, Keyser and Clark sug-gest that Lydia’s electrum coinage was issued by a “polit-ically isolated state” (116, emphasis theirs), in effect, acash-poor state, “to raise funds for a war effort” againstthe Cimmerians, thought to have been engaged in warwith Lydia during the seventh century B.C. Thus, Ly-

dia’s electrum coinage was “semi-ficuliary,” because itwas “produced from a valuable material but one over-valued by the state” (116).

As much of this explanation takes issue with two papersby R.W. Wallace (AJA 91 [1987] 385–7; JHS 108 [1988]203–7), it is appropriate that he have the last say, althoughin his paper he does not engage Keyser and Clark, butrather ranges widely across a whole series of fascinatingissues, from the differential silver: gold ratios of electrumin different times and places, to the rationale behind theirweights. Indeed, Wallace investigates comparative metrol-ogy and the logic of the electrum standard (14–14.2 g fora stater), drawing in a wide range of comparative evidencefrom both Greek and Near Eastern sources.

In conclusion, Miriam Balmuth has put together anextremely interesting collection of essays in this beauti-fully produced volume that will be of interest to a diversebody of scholars with numismatic, metallurgical, archaeo-logical, historical, and philological interests. There is muchfood for thought in this volume, and not a little controver-sy. Let us hope that the studies contained in Hacksilber toCoinage find the wide audience they so clearly deserve.

D.T. Potts

department of archaeologyuniversity of sydneysydney, new south wales [email protected]

Die Entstehung und Entwicklung der Klas-sisch-Syrischen Glyptik, by Adelheid Otto.(Untersuchungen zur Assyriologie und Vorder-asiatischen Archäologie, 8.) Pp. xv + 313, figs. 52,pls. 40, maps 7. Walter de Gruyter, Berlin 2000.SFr 205. ISBN 3-11-016359-4 (cloth).This study, the published version of the author’s 1995

dissertation (Freie Universität Berlin), is concerned withthe origin and development of cylinder seals of so-calledclassic style belonging to Middle Bronze Age Syria anddated to ca. 1800–1730 B.C. The book presents a corpusof Syrian “classic” style seals (a term devised in earlierscholarly literature, 24–34), consisting of 479 seal imag-es (363 seals and 116 ancient impressions). This workwill be of particular interest to those who follow trends inancient Near Eastern cylinder seal research.

Based on motif, iconography, and style, the seal im-ages are divided into six main groups, presumed to beregional, and 27 subgroups (40–1, 109–59). Otto fur-ther divides the material into three chronological divi-sions, Early (ca. 1830–1790), High (1795–1760), andLate Classical (1760–1730). Her work departs from ear-lier studies on MBA classic Syrian glyptic by excludingmaterial uncovered by Sir Leonard Woolley from Alala-kh level VII (1730–1650), which she attributes to a post-Classical period.

The catalogue presents the seals sequentially in tabu-lar form (70–108). Each entry provides the most accessi-ble reference, material and size (when known), basicliterature (when published), the provenience (if exca-vated), contextual or dynastic dating (infrequently


known), inscription (relevant for 67 of the catalogueditems, 13 of which are seals rather than impressions),and a brief but complete description.

Approximately one third of this corpus consists of ex-cavated material from some 40 different sites, includingMari (33 examples), Tell Leilan (18 examples), and Külte-pe (11 examples), and the majority of this glyptic mate-rial consists of ancient impressions. The most significantnew material comes from the excavations at Tell Bi’a (an-cient Tuttul) in northern Syria (16 examples). Otto hasbeen entrusted by E. Strommenger, the director of theBi’a excavations, with the publication of the glyptic ma-terial from this site, and we learn that some 100 individ-ual seal images from a well-dated palatial complex of theearly 18th century B.C. are to be included in Otto’s finalpublication (46, n. 214). Of the 16 images from Tell Bi’ain this study (309–10), half are seal impressions not pre-viously published. The others were included in variousarticles by Otto, especially the important “Local, Region-al, and International Seal Impressions from the Palace ofŠamši-Adad in Tall Bi’a/Tuttul,” in K. Van Lerberghe andG. Voet, eds., Languages and Cultures in Contact (Leuven1999) 337–53.

The excavated material is discussed in two main ways:seals from contexts that provide chronological evidence(ch. 6) and seals from specific sites but without helpfulstratigraphic value (ch. 7). In the latter category is placedUgarit, for which Otto notes P. Amiet’s statement thatnone of the loci for the Middle Bronze seals from thereprovides a precise dating (63). In Amiet’s Sceaux-cylindresen hématite et pierres diverses (Paris 1992) 25–31, nos. 27–44, 18 cylinder seals were classified as classic Syrian. Asonly six of these are included in Otto’s study, an explana-tion of how this evidence was handled would certainlyhave been of interest. She mentions in her section onthe formation of the corpus and the various groups (36–41) that after collecting as many of the relevant seals aspossible, some were discounted because of their poor stateof preservation or because they did not add anythingmeaningful to the specific groups (37, n. 190). An ad-dendum of this excluded material would have been use-ful for future work and to understand that decision-mak-ing process.

Other seals of interest include ones excavated recent-ly at Lidar Höyük (no. 141) and Tell Ahmar (no. 158) aswell as seals that traveled far and were used over a longperiod of time. For the latter, contemplate the cylinderexcavated by the Metropolitan Museum at the North Pyr-amid site of Lisht near Cairo (no. 53) and those found ina Punic grave in Carthage (no. 367) and a Roman periodgrave in Georgia (no. 52).

The unprovenanced seals in Otto’s corpus are now insome 60 different museums and private collections. Allof these have been published before except for one inMunich (no. 189).

The excavated glyptic for this period remains limited.One cylinder seal comes from the important site of TellMardikh (ancient Ebla, no. 182), discovered in 1992 andpublished in 1994; another from Ebla, published in 1994,is, however, excluded (H. Hammade, Cylinder Seals fromthe Collections of the Aleppo Museum 2: Seals of Known Prov-enance [Oxford] no. 35). Otto knows the Ebla seal andmentions it in another study (Abr-Nahrain 35 [1998]

120–34, esp. 125, n. 19), but when she was writing herthesis (1991–1995), perhaps this publication was notknown to her. In any case, it appears that when she wasreworking the thesis for publication (1998–1999), sheadded no more seals to her corpus.

In any case for Ebla, the reality as reflected in thepublished glyptic evidence of many decades of excava-tion is that far more MBA seals of the popular style havebeen uncovered there than those of classic styles. Myown Ph.D. dissertation (“Old Syrian Popular Style Cylin-der Seals,” Columbia University 2001), deals with 396MBA Syrian seals of non-classic styles. There is an over-lap of six seals between our two studies; one of these(Otto no. 6) is of hematite, not serpentine as originallydocumented, and I now agree with Otto that this cylin-der rightly belongs to her elite seals, in part because ofthe delicate manner of carving but also because it is ofhematite. Otto has a section that analyzes seal materialby group (180–5), and she quantifies what has long beenknown for elite seals of the early second millennium B.C.:the majority of them are of hematite. An important con-tribution in this section is her reference to the recentlydocumented hematite sources in northern Syria (186, n.412).

Otto’s study discusses the iconography of variousgroups, and sometimes links them to provenience (109–68). For example Group 1, comprising 84 seals with foursubgroups, is characterized only iconographically: smallmotifs in rows or columns divided by various rope-likedivisions or guilloches. The first three subgroups of Group3 are also iconographic: 3a, kneeling heroic figures withfantastic creatures; 3b, kneeling griffins and female fig-ures with veils; and 3c, simple worship scenes. Subgroup3d, however, is called northwest Syrian with complex rep-resentations. Other groups combine descriptive and geo-graphic terminology (e.g., 2a, early north Syrian[Carchemish and Yamhad]; 2b, Carchemish court style;5b, Qatna court style).

Since the core of Otto’s thesis revolves around thesegroups, the geographic specificity of some of them makesthem difficult to accept fully. The most problematic groupis the Qatna court style (5b), consisting of 20 seals pri-marily from the art market and one each from Tell Bi’a,Mari, Jericho, and Karahöyük near Konya (145–8, nos.375–94, pls. 30–1). Otto believes that these seals repre-sent a fine court style distinguishable from the othergroups ascribed to Mari, Aleppo, and Carchemish. Sincethere are many Egyptian elements in the group, Ottosuggests a western location and picks Qatna, a majorAmorite royal center of the early 18th century B.C. inwest Syria, partly because no court style has hitherto beenascribed to it (one cylinder from the 1920s excavationsat Qatna is attributed to her west Syrian Group 5c, no.414). From Qatna itself, however, new glyptic evidencecomes from recent excavations (M. Novák and P. Pfälzner,MDOG 133 [2001] 185–90) and includes impressions withhigh quality, classic style Syrian seals, but none so farseems to belong to Otto’s Group 5b, the Qatna courtstyle.

Though Otto finds attribution to carvers of limitedvalue, she does suggest that two seals (nos. 340 and 376)might have been carved by the same hand, albeit placedin two different groups at two different courts (Groups


4c, Aleppo Court Style I, and 5b, Qatna, respectively).Two reviewers of Otto’s book have expressed reservationsabout this suggestion: E. Klengel-Brandt (OLZ 96 [2001]704–6) and D. Collon (Gnomon Bibliographische Datenbank73 [2001] 736–8). Klengel especially wondered aboutthe feasibility of following the itinerant career of a sealcarver so closely.

A useful section of the book is dedicated to iconogra-phy (ch. 14, 201–77). She begins with deities, includingthe naked female in various guises (202–26) and godsassociated with local cults. Male figures include royal,heroic, and demonic figures. Animals, real and fantastic,are presented alphabetically (Affe [monkey], caprids, grif-fins, scorpions, etc.) and their potential meaning is brieflydiscussed. Smaller objects inserted into the field includeheads and hands (the latter may be depicted to ward offevil), the ball staff (Waage), Egyptian details like theankh, and astral elements. She also catalogues linear di-viders, including the guilloche (Flechtband), which mayhave symbolized water (275). Thus, any iconographic el-ement can be readily found with lists of occurrences foreach specific motif. Since so much artistic evidence is nolonger extant (i.e., monumental wall paintings), the im-ages executed in miniature on these seals with such pre-cision are an invaluable source for the iconography ofMiddle Bronze Age Syria.

Otto’s book thus contributes a welcome addition toour understanding of this period. Furthermore, she bringsto our attention the important subject of official versusprivate seals (173–7). Her future work on the Tell Bi’aglyptic will foster that line of research, and we await itwith great interest.

Barbara A. Porter

452 riverside drivenew york, new york [email protected]

The Rural History of Ancient Greek CityStates: The Oropos Survey Project, by MichaelB. Cosmopoulos (with contributions by JamesNewhard, Nike Sakka, and Lawrence Stene). (BAR-IS1001.) Pp. xiv + 166, figs. 88, tables 14.Archaeopress, Oxford 2001. $68. ISBN 1-84171-282-5.Intensive archaeological survey in Greece has become

an “archaeology of guilt,” as a second generation of sur-veyors attempts to meet the methodological expectationsof survey’s “new wave,” fulfilling the prophecy of Cher-ry’s “Frogs Round the Pond” (D.R. Keller and D.W. Rupp,Archaeological Survey in the Mediterranean Area [Oxford1983] 375–416). What may not have been foreseen twodecades ago are the problems facing survey in a modernworld. The mantra of inexpensive, administratively andlogistically simple, nondestructive, and unobtrusive field-work had become quickly squelched by the high cost ofprojects (and the difficulty of securing long-term fund-ing), and the complexities of fielding dozens of studentsand specialists (and multiple directors). Since the 1970sthe political implications of a new awareness of the den-

sity of antiquities in the Greek countryside as well as theapparent seamlessness of the archaeological landscapehave become central issues in an era of a rapidly expand-ing rural economies and an urbanized rural environment.The costs of survey to the researcher also have becomecosts to the Greek Archaeological Service, which courte-ously but cautiously accepted the responsibility (and ex-pense) of overseeing the work, keeping track of andprotecting the new sites, storing and caring for the finds,as well as weathering the resultant impact on the mod-ern landscape—mediating between landowners, civicbuilding projects, and the archaeologists themselves. Fi-nally, the interdisciplinary mingling of talents—geolo-gists, soil scientists, environmental scientists, botanists,anthropologists, historians, archaeologists, ceramic andlithic specialists, and so on—during the fieldwork stagehave become ultimately difficult to synthesize during thepublication phase, presenting in many ways the same kindof delays in publication, paratactic presentation of data,and methodological schizophrenia seen in publicationsof large-scale multidisciplinary excavations. One has toadmit that the survey publications to date, while excel-lent pieces of fieldwork, are generally not easy to han-dle—especially for one not trained in archaeology or sur-vey methods. Their length, format, and self-consciousstyle may limit their potential use by more traditionalclassical archaeologists and historians.

Cosmopoulos’s The Rural History of Ancient Greek CityStates, presenting the results of the six-year intensivesurvey of the ancient Oropia in central Greece, must beread in the light of this changing modern academic andsociopolitical climate. The book effectively rides out the“new wave” of survey (and its myriad of problems) bring-ing us back safely to the shores of Greek history, empha-sizing the importance and indeed imperative of continu-ing regional studies in Greece.

In a succinct and well-written seven chapters—in addi-tion to an epilogue, site catalogue, and chronologicaltables—the book describes the topography, environment,methods and problem orientation of the survey, the char-acter of the finds and sites, and the history of settlementin the region of Oropos. The brevity of the book (180pages) may be one of its strong points. Recent surveypublications try to do too much in too many pages, whilethe vision of the director, the problem orientation, andeven the data themselves get buried or obscured in thedizzying array of specialist chapters, discourses on meth-od, and diverse interests of various researchers. Cos-mopoulos gets to the point throughout, never losing sightof his data, his main research questions, or his readers.The survey zone itself is also something of considerableimportance, encompassing both the territory of a Greekcity as well as a regional sanctuary, the Amphiareion, elic-iting questions of rural responses to political and culticsocioeconomic systems. Cosmopoulos is interested in thearea not as a bounded cultural region, self-containedpolitical territory, or closed research universe, but ratheras a complex cultural landscape affected by numerousand varied external political and economic factors.

Aptly and unpretentiously titled, the book explores asmall corner (some 22 km2) of central Greece that is aphysical extension of Boiotia, a political extension ofAttica, and an economic extension of the Euboian Gulf.


Cosmopoulos takes us beyond the myopic scope of sur-vey’s microregional focus and the inherent limitations ofthe research universe, requiring the reader to considerscale as the crucial variable in the collection of regionaldata and analysis of settlement patterns.

Early in the book (ch. 2) the author inserts a “Histor-ical Outline of Oropos,” oddly before introducing anyarchaeological material at all. Most surveys to date havesubordinated their “history” section, placing it in a chap-ter at the end of the book or even in appendices. Withthis chapter, Cosmopoulos sets the stage, emphasizingthe area’s essential liminality. Sometimes part of Athens,sometimes part of Boiotia, and only occasionally inde-pendent, Oropos is perennially an extension of broadercultural and political landscapes. Cosmopoulos’s survey isthus the study of a cross-section of this liminal zone, ameans of reading a complex landscape and the impact ofchanging and overlapping cultural and political spheresof influence.

In my opinion, the only weakness in this book is thebrevity of chapter 1 on “Landscape and Environment.”This provides a nice overview of the physical terrain, veg-etation, modern land use, and geomorphology, but makeslittle effort to relate these features and contexts to cul-tural landscapes or historical processes. In the book’s pref-ace we get a sense of the changing character of theenvironment of Oropos and the impact of modern eco-nomic development; and in the chapter on methodology(ch. 4) we are given a perspective drawn principally fromthe annales school, preparing us for the embeddednessof rural cultural systems in a dynamic and changing land-scape. But in the end, Cosmopoulos’s view of the Oropiaall but ignores the physical environment as a particularlyimportant predictive variable in the analysis of settle-ment patterns or in the course of the settlement history.For the author, inter- and extra-regional sociopoliticaland economic systems (20–1) have guided both the in-terpretation of the data as well as his view of the humanhistory of this region. While I am not disagreeing withCosmopoulos’s refreshingly non-processual perspectivehere, I would have enjoyed a bit more descriptive detailon the landscape itself to get a clearer picture of therelationships between sites and soil types, and a betterunderstanding of the potential impact on site recover-ability. For example, while he assures his readers thatthere has been minimal site loss—given that the majori-ty of sites are located in “young alluvial substrates” (23)—we are still given no clear picture of how the geomor-phology relates to landscape stability, land use, or land-use and settlement histories, nor are we really given thetools to do this for ourselves.

The section on geomorphology (authored by Stene) isby admission of the authors only a preliminary handling ofthe material. But without a soil map or detailed discussionof differential agricultural potential, site-soil correlates,landscape stability, and hydrology, it is frankly impossibleto relate the excellent overview descriptions of geologyand geomorphology to a settlement history. Nomencla-ture is also a problem here: phrases like “baselevel con-trol,” “lithologic resistance,” and “planation level” are mean-ingless as included without context and explanation fornonspecialists. Cosmopoulos’s assurances notwithstanding,I am still left to wonder, given the physical and geomor-

phologic diversity of the area, if the weak representationof Neolithic–Early Iron Age and Archaic sites may not berelated to variable stability and productivity of soils select-ed for intensive use in certain periods.

The project’s theoretical and methodological frame-works are clearly and succinctly outlined in chapter 4.While the severest adherents of the “new wave” mightnot be satisfied with the survey’s handling of off-sitematerial or the problem of visibility (scatters were pain-lessly designated either “findspots” or “sites”), they willapprove of the intensity of field walking (15 m intervals)which was also adjusted for low-visibility environments.The chapter also brings to the forefront both the condi-tions of modern settlement in Oropos as well as the idio-syncrasies of the project’s field methods and samplingstrategies which may have affected both recovery andinterpretation of sites (23, 27). These issues are furtherexplained in the “epilogue” at the end of the narrative(82–3), which offers an unusually detailed overview ofpractical and methodological problems encountered bythe survey. Perhaps feeling the burden of the “new wave,”Cosmopoulos is evidently compelled to explain why hemade the decision not to survey the entire Oropia or tocollect and study post-Roman and recent pottery; whyfield walking was conducted to find sites, rather than toquantify sherd densities; why the on-site sampling wasweighted toward flaked-stone tools rather than sherds;and why a comprehensive collection and museum-stylestudy of the pottery could not be conducted (we are toldthat the fieldwork was carried out as a condition of atopographical survey permit, and only stone tools [evi-dently not ground-stone] and “special” artifacts could becollected and stored; pottery analysis had to be conduct-ed in the field). Cosmopoulos bravely calls for greaterflexibility in the Greek archaeological laws, perhaps al-lowing for collection, temporary storage, and then rede-position of survey finds.

Even though the discussion of pottery does seem some-what less than that of the chipped stone in chapter 5(“Findspots and Finds”), throughout the site cataloguethere are excellent photographs as well as detailed de-scriptions of diagnostic pottery from each site. Cosmopou-los’s handling of the pottery is sophisticated and his def-inition and dating of sites is well argued. I especiallyliked his candid explanation and reflection on the po-tential problems in establishing the chronology of sites(esp. 23–4), not least of which is the inability of mostresearchers in Greece to handle local wares, coarse wares,and the large range of non-diagnostic fine wares, whichhas always seemed to me to be a bigger problem thanquantification of sherd density, visibility, or even field-walking intensity. Perhaps in many areas of Greece ex-tensive excavation should precede survey, instead of theother way around.

The implications of such problems, however, do call intoquestion the comparability of survey data and emphasizethe difficulties we face in the Aegean in trying to imple-ment consistent field methods. Recognizing the diversityof physical environments, permit constraints, goals, andlimitations of time, funding, and expertise, can we expectto conduct survey in exactly the same way in all areas ofthe Aegean? And if not, are survey results (and the unique-ly complex narrative histories of each region) compara-


ble? I think that Cosmopoulos’s results in chapters 6 (“TheRural History of Ancient Oropia”) and 7 (“Conclusion”)demonstrate emphatically that they are.

The Oropia’s settlement patterns mirror the results ofother surveys in Greece: an increase in settlement densi-ty from the Neolithic through Early Helladic, with a cleardrop off in population by EH III–MH. The concentrationof EH II sites on the coastal plain suggests the impor-tance of exchange routes along the Euboian Gulf, whilethe lack of hierarchy in the dispersed pattern could indi-cate connections to higher-order centers outside thesurvey zone. Although Cosmopoulos is reluctant to callLofos Taktikou a regional center in EH II, he admits thepossibility that the site could be a gateway community forthe receipt and redistribution of goods such as obsidian.

Unusual is the extremely nucleated pattern in LateHelladic. Although there is evidently a population in-crease from the Middle Helladic period, the relativelysmall number of rural Mycenaean sites and the overalllack of hierarchical structure suggest to Cosmopoulos botha low level of agricultural intensification (and extensifi-cation) as well as a low level of integration (73). Headmits that the Mycenaean sites in the Oropia could havebeen commercial outposts of a Boiotian palace, bringingto the forefront again the issue of scale as a significantvariable in reading the settlement patterns. The author’slucid presentation of these formally different patternsmake me wonder if the Mycenaean nucleation could ac-tually be functionally similar to the dispersal of settle-ment of Early Helladic II—sites in both periods beingconnected to extra-regional settlement structures. In thiscase, the lack of integration that Cosmopoulos sees in hisMycenaean data may in fact be a sign of integration butsimply on a broader regional scale than that included inthe survey. This wider regional connectedness is perhapsreinforced by the extreme depopulation of the Oropia inthe Early Iron Age, a wide-scale abandonment of Myce-naean sites that accords well with Foxhall’s interpreta-tion of the Bronze Age–Early Iron Age transition in pala-tial territories (cf. BSA 90 [1995] 239–50). Cosmopou-los’s data fit the model well; we simply have to look out-side the survey zone for the other parts of the structure,and consider nucleation and dispersal completely scaledependent.

Nucleation—to sites such as Skala Oropou—seems tobe the pattern in the Early Iron Age in the Oropia. Whatis interesting here is that the pattern remained nucleat-ed until the establishment of the Amphiraeion in thefifth century. The author links the process of settlementexpansion to an intensification of land use driven byAthenian agricultural interests in the region, abated onlyin the Hellenistic period, when again external sociopo-litical changes affected the local settlement patterns.

Cosmopoulos’s book is a welcome and significant con-tribution to a rapidly growing mass of survey data fromthe Aegean. As a representative of the “new wave” ofsurvey, the scale and methods of the project differ mark-edly from that of many large mainland and Cretan projects,which have placed issues of visibility, intensity, and off-site sherd density as central in creating quantitativelycomparable results. These methodological differencesnotwithstanding, Cosmopoulos’s field methods are clear-ly and carefully described and his data are presented with

remarkable detail. The end result is a compelling narra-tive, a fascinating regional history of an important areaof central Greece, which not only is immediately compa-rable to that of other regions, but also will be a funda-mental source for both historians and archaeologists work-ing in Boiotia, Attica, and Euboia.

Donald C. Haggis

department of classics212 murphey halluniversity of north carolina at chapel hillchapel hill, north carolina [email protected]

Creta antica: Rivista annuale di studi arche-ologici, storici ed epigrafici, edited by AldoAusilio. Vol. 1: pp. 245, figs. 10. Vol. 2: pp. 315, figs.206, pls. 11, tables 13. Centro di archeologiacretese, Università di Catania; Padua 2000 and2001. €83 per vol. ISBN 2001-248-467 (paper).

Cretan exploration has immense attractions; the surpris-es, which its little explored soil gives to anyone whoseeks to open it up, are among the deepest satisfactionsof one’s life as an archaeologist. (F. Halbherr, AJA 11[1896] 537).

The AJA does not always review the first issues of ajournal, but I think an exception is warranted here be-cause Halbherr was one of the first Europeans to contrib-ute to the AJA and in fact was among the first to contrib-ute steadily to what is now without a doubt the leadingpublication in North America in archaeology. Creta Anticaseeks to fill a void left by the passing of Dolf Hakkert,who held a Ph.D. in the Byzantine archaeology of Creteand edited the now moribund Cretan Studies, and to bringmore information to the public on principally Italian ex-cavations in Crete while awaiting fuller and formal publi-cation.

The first volume of Creta Antica is a charming and dis-arming retrospective on Halbherr, which merits publica-tion as a volume on its own so that it can stand alongsiderecent biographies of early giants in this field, such asEvans, Schliemann, Harriet Boyd, and others. The vol-ume presents the Atti of a conference held in 2000 inhonor of the centennial of the excavations of the Scuolaarchaeologica italiana di Atene at Phaistos; the title ofthe conference, “La figura e l’opera di Federico Halb-herr,” celebrated the founder of the Italian mission inCrete. Gentle persistence was among his best traits, aswell as patience—16 years elapsed between his first visitto Phaistos and final acquisition of the site. Disarminganecdotes are retold of Evans, Halbherr, Hatzidakis, Xan-thoudides, and others criss-crossing the island trying toestablish rights to excavate in anticipation of Cretan in-dependence. One forgets that Halbherr nearly acquiredKnossos rather than Phaistos, and it often bears remem-bering that these men were quietly but decisively activein rebellion from the Sultan and in enosis with Greece.

Halbherr seems to have been a genuinely nice man,and so it is perhaps a bit unfair to be able to peer at someof his grammar school reports cards along with teachers’


comments; such a chilling exhibit might make one waryof fame. Many of the photographs are known from othersources such as Cento anni (Rome 1984), the volume pro-duced in association with the 100th anniversary of theItalian School, and the expected papers of the confer-ence on “Creta antica e protobizantina” held in honor ofAntonino di Vita, yet it is always welcome to see suchhigh quality reproductions and to have the material gath-ered together in one place.

The second volume commenced publication as a jour-nal of articles. Appropriately, several of the articles reex-amine material and issues brought to scholarly attentionby Halbherr. La Rosa, for example, publishes several let-ters of Hablherr’s, which indicate strongly that at leastfive more blocks are known which contain further piecesof the famous law code at Gortyn. Each article is followedby a half page abstract in English, which may prove usefulbut in the case of the 19 writers in this particular issuetheir writing was so crisp, and the editing and proofread-ing so sure that readers may find the abstracts unneces-sary. Aldo Asilio, general editor and owner of Bottegad’Erasmo, has published numerous volumes on the ar-chaeology of Crete over the years; his impressive first-hand knowledge of the field is therefore of great help inthe production of informative, visually appealing, unclut-tered, and error free contributions. The articles reflectthe interests and current direction of the Italian School.There are 11 contributions on Bronze Age topics (cf.Nestor 29.4, April 2002, for more detail), including re-freshing interpretations by Italian scholars on sites thatwere not excavated by the Italian School, such as Pyrgos,Kommos, and Arkhanes, as well as many that were. Twoshort essays follow on the Archaic period, two on Classi-cal, one on the Roman period, and three on VenetianCrete. One heartily endorses reading contributions onthe Venetian period since it is becoming apparent thatcomparanda from later periods are as important in under-standing Roman Crete as perspectives gained from earli-er eras. More balance on other chronological divisionswould be welcome.

The quote from Halbherr at the top of this review is toappear in the flyleaf to every volume of the series. It istruly emblematic of the man and of the series. Congratu-lations are due at its launch.

George W.M. Harrison

classics departmentmail location 5181xavier university3800 victory parkwaycincinnati, ohio [email protected]

Theory and Practice of Site Planning in Clas-sical Sanctuaries, by Juko Ito. Pp. vii + 160, figs.43, pls. 16. Kyushu University Press, Fukuoka2002. ¥ 6,500. ISBN 4-87378-717-3 (cloth).The opening statements in the preface, declaring the

author to have been trained as an architect in an engi-neering faculty, sets the tone for this modest and yeteffective book. It analyzes the siting of classical architec-

ture “from a technological and practical viewpoint,” inkeeping with the premise that “it was essential for archi-tects to decide the position, sizes and orientations” ofbuildings in a manner conducive to their execution byorganized teamwork. Although the English expressionhas minor flaws, the meaning of the text is consistentlyclear, while its structure follows a sensible sequence. Thisbegins with three chapters covering general backgroundand scholarship (“Introduction,” “Previous Discussions andTheir Problems,” and “Ancient Documents and Hypothe-sis of Planning”), moving on to the two main chapters ofsubstance (ch. 4, “Axis and Alignment,” and ch. 5, “Gridsin Sanctuary Complexes”), and finishing off with a com-plementary chapter (6) on “Grids in Single Build-ings” and the Conclusion (ch. 7).

While the conclusions reflect the author’s background,they also conform to received wisdom about Greek andRoman planning in general, and that of temples andsanctuaries in particular. In Ito’s view the arrangementof buildings in Greece prior to the Hellenistic period,save for a few precocious exceptions (the sanctuaries ofAphaia at Aegina and of Poseidion at Sounion ca. 500B.C.), tended to be “random,” “chaotic,” and “arbitrary”(22–3). This follows the judgments of scholars such asLawrence, Robertson, and Wycherley, as typified by thelatter’s statement that the “cumulative effect of a num-ber of buildings, each a masterpiece of proportion andharmony itself was apt to be something of a jumble” (25).In his introduction Ito may take care to note that “thelack of geometrical regularity does not mean there wasno ‘planning’,” but in reality there is the danger that hisrelatively narrow definition of the symptoms of planning—orthogonality, axiality, alignment, and regularity—couldleave out of the picture other kinds of intention. Themain alternative interpretation that Ito considers is Dox-iades’ proposal in favor of a polar system of planning, bywhich buildings would be disposed so as to take up cer-tain privileged segments of vision (typically “pie-slices”of 30 or 36°), and certain privileged dimensions too,measured from the vantage point of a spectator emerg-ing into a sanctuary from its main entrance. It is probablyright to dismiss Doxiades’ specific version of view plan-ning, but this does necessarily disqualify less dogmaticand more subtle observations (as made for example byManolis Korres and Lise Bek, neither of whose work ismentioned), nor related issues that bear on the percep-tion of architectural sculpture. Given that it used to bemore popular than Doxiades’ book, at least in schools ofarchitecture, a more surprising omission perhaps is anytreatment of the enigmatic ideas promoted in VincentScully’s The Earth, Sky and the Gods (New Haven 1969).

There are other weaknesses of omission: Doxiades’proposals are not repudiated on the grounds of accuracy(which in some cases could have been tested rigorously);Vitruvius’s testimony requires more attention than it re-ceived; and there is no index. The chapter on drawingand architectural technique misses some recent impor-tant publications: J. Heisel, Antike Bauzeichnungen (Darm-stadt 1993); L. Haselberger, “Architectural Likenesses,”JRA 10 (1997) 77–94; Las Casas del Alma: Maquetas arqui-tectónicas de la Antigüedad (Barcelona 1996); also see avolume that has appeared post publication: B. Muller,ed., Maquettes architecturales de l’antiquité (Paris 2001);


and Filippo Coarelli’s intriguing suggestions relating tothe siting of the Dying Gaul statue group in Pergamon(Da Pergamo a Roma: I Galati nella città degli Attalidi, withan appendix by M. Fincker, “Il diagramma inciso sul plin-to del Galata morente,” [Rome 1995]). Another causefor concern is the jump from the examination of Helle-nistic sanctuaries (e.g., at Kos, Lindos, Magnesia) to thoseof the high Imperial period (e.g., at Aizanoi, Gerasa, Baal-bek); this leaves out of account late republican and earlyimperial sanctuaries in and around Rome—and thus themajor set pieces at Tivoli and Palestrina. Nor is there anytreatment of Caesar’s Forum and the succession of im-perial fora in Rome; even if they do not conform to thesanctuary type that is Ito’s main focus, they surely per-tain to some of the themes that he develops.

The layout of Augustus’s Forum displays, in fact, aninstance of just the kind of phenomenon that Ito high-lights, namely the alignment of the front of the Templeof Mars Ultor with the central axis of the exedrae toeither side, providing at the entrance into the temple amoment of revelation—in terms of both space and sculp-tural program. In collecting together various categoriesof alignment in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, chap-ter 4 of Ito’s book makes a definite advance clearly stat-ed. He highlights not just axial arrangements of a rela-tively obvious kind (e.g., in alignment between templeand altar), but also oblique, frontal, and flanking align-ments. Chapter 5 goes on to advance some convincingexamples of grid planning, provided the reader gives theauthor the benefit of the doubt in some cases as regardsthe specific dimensions that he supposes to have beeninvolved. These grids, ones based on large-scale rhythmi-cal site-lines linked to the overall width or length of atemple, often convince at least in one direction (atPriene, for example), and sometimes in both directions(Kos, sanctuary of Asklepios; Gerasa). It may be that Itosees a grid system where an ancient planner only had inmind more limited relationships, as where a temple isplaced into a precinct three times its width, which is thesame as saying that the temple and the space either sideare equal. Nonetheless, the author is surely right to iden-tify such tripartite schemes in sanctuaries like those atMagnesia and Aizanoi. It would have been instructive tohave had an evaluation of the extent to which the phe-nomena described were representative of general prac-tice (an issue that could have been tackled in appendi-ces, perhaps by lists checking off some of the salientcharacteristics emerging from the main case studies).More use might also have been made of appendices inorder to siphon off from the central text some of themore extensive coverage of dimensions, since it is a sure,if regrettable, fact that many readers “go blank” whenfaced by more than a few numbers in succession.

To some degree this book falls between two stools.With its selection of examples and its incomplete graspof the bibliography it may disappoint the specialist; atthe same time the general audience will miss discussionsthat seek to relate the art of formal composition to theorchestration of space and sculpture for programmaticand propagandistic aims. Yet in assembling clear analyseslargely unhampered by polemical agendas or personalwhimsy, Ito has provided scholars with a useful service,and he does succeed in raising issues that deserve to be

verified or borne in mind when making future analysesof architectural complexes. It is most encouraging that ascholar from somewhere other than Europe or NorthAmerica has been able to make such a contribution inspite of reduced research resources available for studyingthe classical legacy. Archaeologists and classicists who arenot themselves specialists in architectural planning maywell find here common sense conclusions that strike ahappier chord than some of the more elaborate and attimes contorted proposals to be found in the literature.

Mark Wilson Jones

department of architecture andcivil engineering

university of bathbath ba2 7ayunited [email protected]

L’Architecture grecque. Vol. 1, Les principesde la construction, by M.-C. Hellman. Pp. 351,ills. 450, pls. 38. €83. A. and J. Picard, Paris 2002.ISSN 1264-1723; ISBN 2-7084-0606-X (cloth).This volume, which initiates an entire series on Greek

architecture by the same author, also serves as a successorto two still important but now dated studies: R. Martin,Manuel d’architecture grecque 1 (Paris 1965) and A.K. Or-landos, Les Matériaux de construction et la technique archi-tecturale des anciens Grecs 1 and 2 (Paris 1966 and 1968).Throughout the text, Hellman makes clear her debt tothese earlier works. Yet she also recognizes—and satis-fies—the need for a book that incorporates more recentdiscoveries and scholarly contributions, while taking acomprehensive approach to the subject.

The volume is divided into four parts. The first, on theprocess of construction, benefits particularly from Hell-man’s own previous research on inscriptions. Here herdiscussion ranges from the training and role of archi-tects, to the cost and financing of constructions, theextraction and working of stone, and the materials andexecution of the structure. Clearly, the content is notlimited to materials and techniques, although these is-sues are addressed throughout, especially in part 4, onroofs.

The breadth of this book is also apparent from thesubjects of the remaining parts: the architectural orders(2) and the various types of decoration (3). Even Hell-man’s treatment of the orders is at least partly historical,although she does not ascribe to traditional evolutionaryviews. In each case the evidence for origins is exploredand compared (unfavorably) with the statements of Vit-ruvius. For both Doric and Ionic she emphasizes regionalvariations and anomalies, thus assigning the Aeolic capi-tal (with vertical volutes) to the chapter on Ionic andtreating the Corinthian order and leaf-type capitals asvariations of the two orders. Since she interprets (cor-rectly, in my opinion) the Archaic anomalies as an indica-tion that the architectural orders are still in the processof definition, but then traces their mixture from thesecond half of the fifth century, one wonders when, andif, the canonical orders actually existed.


In fact, much of the focus of this book is on materialthat, for typological or geographical reasons, often re-ceives limited attention in handbooks. Thus, Hellman’sdiscussion of roofs includes, besides the better-knowntypes, also those with lanterns, cones, and pyramids. Shedraws her examples from a wide range of sites, includingthe Cyclades, where she has worked extensively, but alsoThasos and even Thrace in the north, as well as westernGreece. Numerous references and copious illustrationsaid the reader in understanding these monuments andthe details discussed.

Although the broad scope of this book requires theauthor to rely heavily on the work of other researchers,she cites the latest sources and includes even unpub-lished articles and dissertations. This is particularly im-portant for areas where scholarship and knowledge haveincreased markedly in recent years, as with arches andvaults or roof-tiles. The specialist may miss the detailedtables offered by Martin and Orlandos, but this omissionis offset by a very readable text and a well designed lay-out. Anyone interested in Greek architecture will cer-tainly find this book useful.

Barbara A. Barletta

school of art and art historyp.o. box 115801university of floridagainesville, florida [email protected]

Ikonographische Studien zu Nike im 5. Jahrhun-dert v. Chr.: Untersuchungen zur Wirkungs-weise und Wesenart, by Cornelia Thöne.(Archäologie und Geschichte 9.) Pp. 162, pls.12. Archäologie und Geschichte, Heidelberg1999. DM 90. ISBN 3-9804648-2-2 (cloth).An iconographical study of Nike in the fifth century

B.C. is timely because of the abundance of material nowavailable for consideration, particularly in vase paint-ing. Previous publications devoted to the topic werebrought out mostly in the latter half of the 19th centu-ry, while in the 20th century she has been treated with-in a larger discussion of cult personifications, as a lexi-con entry, or within a broader time frame. Thöne’s studyis most welcome for its specific focus on the fifth centu-ry and for the author’s thorough examination of thenumerous representations known today, as well as herproposed interpretation of Nike’s significance by thesecond half of the century in Athens, when democracywas the political structure.

This monograph for the Archäologie und Geschichte se-ries is a reworking of her 1992 dissertation at Ruprecht-Karls-Universität Heidelberg. Thöne’s main inquiry con-cerns Nike’s meaning in the fifth century, especially inAthens, and how it is linked to the increased number ofsettings and themes in which Victory is portrayed. Byturning to numerous representations on vases, Thöneestablishes typologies that highlight the different rolesNike played in Greece during the time under consider-ation. Through this method the author investigates thetransformation of Victory’s personification from the Ar-

chaic period to the end of the fifth century B.C., from amore restricted and formulaic representation to one withpolitical dimensions.

The book is organized into 10 chapters, with a thor-ough list of vase representations, of which only a limitedselection is illustrated. Her list is noteworthy for its com-prehensive nature and for going beyond what is illustrat-ed in LIMC 6; it also includes some unpublished material.The quality of the plates is very high, yet one wishes thatmore examples could have been illustrated.

Thöne begins with a brief discussion of literary sourc-es and Archaic representations, before turning to thetransformation of Nike from a more conventional formin the knielauf pose of the sixth century to an increasing-ly versatile and active figure shown in a greater variety ofsettings starting in the early decades of the fifth centu-ry. With the advent of democracy in Athens, representa-tions of Nike assume a greater significance: a new em-phasis is given to achieving one’s potential abilities. Vic-tory’s presence can serve as a testament to that achieve-ment, at the same time she can indirectly allude to one’sweaknesses—failure in attaining achievement.

Since the early fifth century, lyric poets had placedNike in association with contests or competitions, whetherfor athletics, poetry, music or theater, but only rarely in amilitary setting. Thöne creates additional categories forher study of Nike, such as a sacred context, cult worship,mythological representations, participation in events withOlympian divinities, and political victory monuments, withthese categories forming the subsequent chapters. Worthmentioning here is Thöne’s observation that it is Nike,by her presence, who functions as a guarantor of eternalglory within the sacred association. Also, in cult worship,Nike is not worshipped by herself but in her linked rela-tionship to Athena, as with the Athena Nike cult on theAthenian Acropolis. In this latter context, according tothe author, Nike would serve to glorify the ability andpotentiality of Athens.

In turning to Nike’s connection with the political struc-ture of Athens, Thöne observes a change from the firstto the second half of the fifth century. Relying on pre-served representations, Nike appears in a military milieuonly in the minor arts in the private sphere. In contrast,the second half of the century can be characterized bymore public art, particularly such sculptural monumentsas the Nike by Paionios at Olympia.

From these investigations the author concludes thatNike’s presence in representations signifies the poten-tial for successful accomplishment, not that she neces-sarily brings success by her presence. Furthermore, thispersonification of Victory functions as an active agent toeffect victory in contexts associated with competitions.Glory and honor can be bestowed on those who attaintheir abilities, and in a similar vein, what applies to theindividual can apply equally to the society at large.

In Thöne’s conclusion, she draws parallels betweenNike and Eros—both winged figures share several traits.The author makes a compelling observation that repre-sentations of Eros also reflect a transition and develop-ment during the fifth century. In addition to the citedoinochoe in Spina where the two winged figures appeartogether by an altar, it may be worth noting here thatboth deities are introduced as integral forces in the gi-


gantomachy on the Parthenon East metopes. In the lat-ter, Nike accompanies Athena in East 4 while Eros standsnext to Herakles in East 11. Among the 14 east metopesthese are the only two with a three-figure composition,and both are placed fourth from either end. This specialrelationship between Nike and Eros in such a prominentmonument would seem to bear out Thöne’s observations,which she based on other examples. Equally, the needfor a monograph-length study of Eros would seem now tobe a desirable complement to Thöne’s important andthorough investigation of Nike in the fifth century B.C.

Thöne convincingly demonstrates the usefulness ofsuch a thorough iconographical study of Nike, and hergenerous footnotes will assist the reader in locating awealth of material related to the topic. Her careful selec-tion of representations on vases (by catalogue and al-most all the plates) makes one wish to see similar treat-ment for representations of Nike in sculpture and archi-tectural sculpture. Nevertheless, her study is a valuableachievement, and scholars will continue to benefit fromthis rich source of information.

Katherine A. Schwab

department of visual and performing artsfairfield universityfairfield, connecticut [email protected]

Capturing Troy: The Narrative Functions ofLandscape in Archaic and Classical GreekArt, by Guy Hedreen. Pp. vii + 297, pls. 50. AnnArbor, University of Michigan Press 2002. $57.50.ISBN: 0-472-11163-9 (cloth).The Trojan War was one of the most powerful subjects

for ancient Greek artists and poets. The Ilioupersis wasparticularly poignant in merging the horrors of war withthe beauties of visual and textual representation. Whilethe popularity of the iconography has been well attestedand well studied, the relationship between Homeric epicand the beginnings of narrative art remains unsettled.The war, set in Asia Minor, engaged Greek memory bothancient and modern, both mythological and psychologi-cal. Even the modern Greek painter Theophilos depict-ed the heroic dual of Achilles and Hector with the wallsof Troy as a theatrical backdrop. In his 1930 version themilitary garb of the Greek and the Trojan is nearly iden-tical, and the same yet again as the painter himself wasknown to sport on occasion in imitation of Alexanderthe Great. Without the addition of the walls and thehandy inscription along the painting’s upper border itwould be impossible to determine an exact ancient mo-ment in the mind of the modern painter, and how thiscocktail of text and image might further be construed asa commentary on the present. In much the same way, it istext and image, narrative and landscape, memory andimagination that propel Hedreen’s new book.

From a basic scholarly perspective, this book is groundbreaking. Hedreen combines theoretical, art historical,and conventional classical approaches in his discussion ofwhat some might consider a stale subject. Quite the con-trary: moving beyond the what of iconography and the

why of iconology, the author argues for a “cause-and-effect logic that governs the unfolding of the stories”(1). He is adamant in claiming a “distant and indirect”(5) relationship of visual and literary traditions, and dis-misses strongly the assumption that painters and viewerslearned stories from poetry. The elements of a particularstory were not random or individual (he speaks little ofthe artists themselves), but function in an analeptic/proleptic interpretative framework. Thus, trees, rocks,altars, statues, and furniture signify specific settings ornarratives, while alluding to others within the Trojan rep-ertoire. They function not only in storytelling and com-position, but also to link events temporally and spatially.The resulting case study sets out to prove how a defin-able system of iconography lends itself to explanation inmultiple layers.

The chapters are organized by stories or clusters ofstories, rather than by motifs. The best known themesare chosen as leaders: the Rape of Kassandra, the Deathof Priam, the Game Table (of Ajax and Achilles), theAmbush of Troilos, the Judgement of Paris. In turn theseare bound to episodes (e.g., the Recovery of Helen, theDeath of Achilles), to particulars of setting (e.g., sanctu-aries of Zeus and Apollo), or to individual motifs. Thechapter headings do not always make obvious exactly whatis to come. For example, in chapter 2, “The Death ofPriam, the Sanctuary of Zeus, and the Building of Troy,”there is a lengthy section entitled “tripods, palm trees,and altars.” We learn that the meaning of these individualmotifs changes when shown solo, combined, or elsewhere.We are reminded of other places in the heart of Greece(Delos and Delphi) where these occur, and it is suggestedthat Troy may not have been the exotic setting we thoughtit was. A similar importance is attributed to the gamingtable of Ajax and Achilles. It is associated with anotherpiece of furniture—the voting table on which the fate ofAchilles’ armor was decided—and may even be, accordingto Hedreen, the very same table transported from onestory to another, from one vase to another. The conclu-sion in this instance might seem a little forced, and theuse of archaeological evidence for support might havebeen expanded. The final chapter, “Setting, Character,and Action in the Judgement of Paris,” is an instance ofsaving both the first and the best for last.

Hedreen’s visual evidence is drawn primarily from vasepainting, mainly Athenian, mainly red-figure. That be-ing said, his inclusion of ancient textual sources is bothuseful and competent. However, when speaking aboutvases we hear little, if anything, about technique, style,shape, or scale of individual objects, and how any combi-nation of these will have influenced and dictated a paint-er’s choices. Nor is there comment on attributed paint-ers and groups, or the amount of attention given to Troyin their overall output. Vases and other arts producedoutside Athens, revealing both Trojan and non-Trojanthemes, are given minimal attention, if any at all. TheBoeotian lekanis in the British Museum (B 80), showingwhat might be a local festival of Athena, seems relevantto the discussion of striding Athena figures (on Panath-enaics and other vases) in relation to the story of Kassan-dra. It is highly appropriate that the recently discoveredGümüxçay sarcophagus depicting the sacrifice of Polyxe-na (fig. 37; Studia Troica 6 [1996] 251–64), as well as a


little-known fragment of the well-known Mykonos pithos(fig. 15) receive mention and are illustrated here. To thebibliography should be added the relevant chapters onveiling in L. Llewellyn-Jones, ed., Women’s Dress in theAncient Greek World (London 2001), as well as E. Stafford’sWorshipping Virtues (London 2000).

Despite his classical training Hedreen’s language isthe language of art history, complete with references toits heroes, Alberti to Gombrich, and in more than oneplace he refers to his material evidence as “works ofart.” Barthes makes his appearance several times as well.In this manner Greek art is brought out of its seclusionand into the academic mainstream. Does a palm treeshading the suicidal Ajax or a rock to support the seatedParis constitute landscape (not to mention tables, al-tars, and architecture)? In this tale of sanctuary andsacrilege, walls and war, this is not simple landscape asnature and space, but landscape as culture and narra-tive, as memory and power dynamic, as the whole ofTroy itself undergoing transformation only to be left inruins. Hedreen’s Trojan narrative gathers familiar scenesand props and assigns them new purposes. In this, hediffers from recent books on the subject, such as thoseby Anderson and Erskine, and strays as we would expectfrom older studies. The result is something new, some-thing more, and if uninhibited readers dig deeplyenough, something for everyone.

Tyler Jo Smith

mcintire department of artuniversity of virginiacharlottesville, virginia [email protected]

From the Parts to the Whole. Vol. 2, Acta ofthe 13th International Bronze Congress,Held at Cambridge, Massachusetts, May 28–June 1, 1996, edited by Carol C. Mattusch, AmyBrauer, and Sandra E. Knudsen. (JRA Suppl. 39.)Pp. 289, figs. 192, line drawings 54. Portsmouth,R.I. 2002. $189. ISSN 1063-4304; ISBN 1-887829-97-0 (cloth)This second volume of papers delivered at the 13th

International Bronze Congress contains 41 contributions,including 5 abstracts. As in the case of the first volume(rev. AJA 106 [2002] 337–8), all papers were accepted forpublication, resulting in great variety of subject and ap-proach. There is some chronological overlap with thesubjects of volume 1; volume 2 starts with a paper on LateIron Age Portugal (Júdice Gamito) and extends to threecontributions on Renaissance topics (Korshak, Cohen,Mendelsohn), and another on 19th and 20th centuryderivations from antiquity (Teegen). The preponderanceof papers treat Roman subjects over a broad geographicalrange, with bronzes from eastern European (Poland,Bulgaria), Balkan (Slovenia) and North Pontic sites, aswell as sites in Germany, Switzerland, Portugal, Spain,France, and Italy.

While the overall emphasis of the 13th congress wason large bronzes, that orientation is less evident than it

was in volume 1. Most of the seven papers that treat largebronzes in volume 2 present fragments—or bases withvestiges of statues long gone (Treister). Nevertheless,contributions such as Parisi Presicce and Touchette’s pa-per on a Classical Greek bull from Rome, and A. Giumlia-Mair’s explanation of production strategies for Romanequestrian statues demonstrate how much can be learnedfrom parts of statues. Extrapolating from one type ofappendage, Jurgeit identifies 14 life-size Etruscan handsas evidence of sphyrelata. Da Palma and Fiorentino reporton conserving two spectacular life-size heads from thegroup of hundreds of bronze fragments found in the seanear Brindisi in 1992. Oddy also discusses conservationand technical issues, in fragments from large gilded bronz-es of the third century A.D. or before. Both papers in-clude fine photographs documenting physical evidenceof indirect casting, the technique that makes possibleserial production.

Deriving dates and provenance for bronzes from com-positional analysis is complicated by the ancient reuse ofscrap metal. However, data on changing proportions ofcopper, lead, zinc, and tin in bronze alloys can be infor-mative, as summarized by Giumlia-Mair, in her own paperand in her supplements to papers by Plesnicar Gec and bySivec. Amid more complex analyses, Giumlia-Mair notesthat more lead was used in cast bronze, less in hammered,and that alloys rarely included zinc before the first cen-tury B.C.

The nine papers on statuettes and small sculpturalobjects highlight the critical importance of provenanceand context. Contributions by Tykot, Prados Torreira, andBalmuth, by Maule, and by Warden entail scholars’ ef-forts to establish pedigrees for statuettes of unknownprovenance in museum collections. Using establishedprovenances, Pop finds such close parallels of form inobjects widely dispersed about the Roman empire that heproposes toreutic series, evidently distributed far and wide.Kaufmann-Heinimann presents assemblages of larariafrom known closed contexts, private and public. Sets ofbronze vessels from sealed contexts (tumulus graves inBulgaria) allow Nenova-Merdjanova to establish that sev-eral types of vessels, formerly considered tableware, in-stead should be associated with bathing and grooming.Tomasevic Buck’s classification of the vessel called au-thepsa, expands its usage to include personal toilette andmedical functions. Contextual information enabled Dyc-zek to differentiate uses for small wooden caskets withbronze fittings from a hospital setting. The material onappliqués is especially rich, with papers on chariots (Pozo)and braziers (Erice Lacabe) decorated with bronze, aswell as papers by R. Thomas and von Prittwitz und Gaf-fron on individual attachments, both of females.

Issues of authenticity appear throughout the volume.DePuma presents a fine exposition of forgeries of Etrus-can mirrors, while Eisenberg identifies Etruscan repousséreliefs in Munich and New York as 19th- and 20th-centu-ry fakes. Loomis’s abstract cites Entella Tablet VII as afake. Balmuth and Tykot raise questions about the au-thenticity of two Sardinian statuettes, based on atypicalalloys. The distinction between fakery and replication isnot always clear, however, as shown by Teegen’s study of19th- and 20th-century imitations of Roman brooches.More intriguing is E. Thomas’s suggestion of ancient


imitation, perhaps falsification of second-century knifesheaths, and Giumlia-Mair’s report of a first-century fibu-la made to look like silver. Interpreting the intentionbehind such variants is difficult, and highly susceptibleto modern attitudes about originality and authenticity.

The range of subjects in this volume is broad and var-ied. Like volume 1, there are no subdivisions in the tableof contents. Combined, the two volumes have more than80 papers arranged in “generally chronological” order,making the search for a specific essay unnecessarily te-dious. A supplementary index of authors by surname wouldhave helped. Since several sites are described solely interms of their Roman nomenclature, this volume wouldhave benefited from a map locating sites in their Romanprovinces, preferably with modern political boundariesindicated as well. The challenge of organizing the pa-pers of the 13th congress in fact reflects the richness ofmaterial presented. Both volumes of the congress dem-onstrate how many ways the subject of bronze in antiqui-ty can be addressed. Individual papers and themes thatrecur throughout both volumes of the congress presentinformation and ideas that reach far beyond the realm ofspecialists in bronze, and merit exploration by many. Thetwo volumes of From the Parts to the Whole integrate ad-vanced technical research with archaeological and arthistorical scholarship in an exemplary and enlighteningpublication.

Mary B. Hollinshead

art departmentfine arts center university of rhode islandkingston, rhode island [email protected]

Amphorenstempel im Nationalmuseum vonAthen zu den von H.G. Lolling aufgenom-menen “Unedierten Henkelinschriften.” Miteinem Anhang: Die Amphorenstempel in derSammlung der Abteilung Athen des Deut-schen Archäologischen Instituts, by GerhardJöhrens. (Deutsches Archäologisches InstitutAbteilung Athen.) Pp. xvii + 335, pls. 4. Philippvon Zabern, Mainz 1999. DM 148; €75.67. ISBN3-8053-2645-9 (cloth).G. Jöhrens’s catalogue of amphora stamps from late

19th-century excavations around Athens and elsewherein Greece provides detailed and knowledgeable entriesfor each of the 1,002 stamps. The main group in thevolume consists of 894 drawings of stamps by Habbo Ger-hardus Lolling between 1873 and 1894; most are thoughtto be from excavations in Athens. The remaining 108entries come from German excavations in Athens, Leu-kas, and elsewhere. By these two catalogues, Jöhrens pro-vides a glimpse at the birth of the tenacious focus oninscribed instrumenta domestica in modern classical archae-ology and ancient history. A potsherd with writing is wor-thy of scholarly attention; one without markings is farless worthy. One beneficial result of this focus is thatcollections of stamped amphora handles do survive inexcavation depots, museum storerooms, and private col-

lections (even if the rest of the amphora and other suchcoarse pots rarely won such preservation). Many collec-tions have been published in much the same format asJöhrens presents here, though often with less detail orcare (only the Latin stamps, nos. 888–894, suffer frominsufficient bibliography). Even so, many modern schol-ars express uncertainty as to what can be done with thesecollections (e.g., J.K. Davies, “Hellenistic Economies inthe Post-Finley Era,” in Z.H. Archibald, J. Davies, V. Gab-rielsen, and G.J. Oliver, eds., Hellenistic Economies [Lon-don and New York 2001] 27–9; and V. Gabrielsen, TheNaval Aristocracy of Hellenistic Rhodes [Aarhus 1997] 65).Jöhrens provides an important view of the origins of thiscurrent problem and the documentation he provides foreach stamp is thorough; the data, however, remain diffi-cult to apply to broader issues of Hellenistic economichistory.

Lolling was born in 1848, first traveled to Greece in1872, and died there in 1894 shortly after leading anexcursion to Salamis to view an archaic inscription (P.Wolters, AM 19 [1894] xxiii). His earliest research waslargely topographical (e.g., AM 1 [1876] 67–94 and 127–38). Indeed, Lolling’s handwritten guide to Greece hasbeen transcribed and published recently by B. Heinrich(Reisenotizien aus Griechenland 1876 und 1877 [Berlin1989]). Lolling was equally active in excavations, withwork first as the German Archaeological Institute’s rep-resentative at Pergamon in 1878 (U. Jantzen, EinhundertJahre athener Institut 1874–1974 [Mainz 1986] 17) andsubsequently at Menidi, Nauplion, and Euboia (see Loll-ing, R. Bohn, A. Furtwängler, and U. Köhler, Das Kuppel-grab von Menidi [Athens 1880]; AM 5 [1880] 143–63;AM 8 [1883] 7–23 and 200–10). Epigraphical research,however, dominated his 22 years in Greece. His manyepigraphical publications deal entirely with stone inscrip-tions, and yet at some point in his time in Greece hebegan to transcribe stamped amphora handles as well.Lolling eventually built a collection of 2,969 drawings ofamphora stamps from handles collected by the GreekArchaeological Society during its excavations within thecity of Athens as well as from other private collectionsand antiquities dealers.

Such a career was not unusual for his day. In 1886,Lolling’s younger contemporary, Carl Schuchhardt, cop-ied roughly 900 stamps as part of his stipendiate year’swork at Pergamon. Schuchhardt, like Lolling, made ex-tensive studies of the ancient landscape, but he thenturned his archaeological attentions to Europe (H.Grünert, Das Altertum 33 [1987] 104–13). The combina-tion of amphora stamps and stone epigraphy emergedclearly at this time both with Schuchhardt’s contributionto Inschriften von Pergamon 8, ii and with various corporaof Greek and Latin inscriptions that included “inscrip-tions on clay.” Publications of the texts of amphora stampsbegan to appear already in the late 1830s and becamerelatively common by the 1870s (Jöhrens provides manyof the references; see, too, references in Y. Garlan, Am-phores et timbres amphoriques grecs [Paris 2000] 11–32; A.Bon and M. Bon, Les timbres amphoriques de Thasos [Étudesthasiennes 4; Paris 1957] 49–55; and IG 12.8, 82–3).

The immediate effect of this interest in the texts ofthe stamps but not in the pots themselves is seen mostclearly in the illustrations in these early publications.


The stamps themselves are drawn with great care. Evenin Lolling’s sketches, despite errors in readings, the par-ticular stamp die in question can often be determinedfrom the drawing. The carefully rendered engravings thatillustrate Albert Dumont’s influential Inscriptions céramiquesde Grèce (Paris 1872) show what such sketches could leadto. And yet, the illustrations of the jars themselves inDumont’s volume are hardly comparable (the illustrationof a “Rhodian” amphora bears a close resemblance toDressel form 6). A similar impact is seen in J.H. Krause(Angeiologie [Halle 1854] 200–7) and S. Birch (History ofAncient Pottery, rev. ed. [London 1873] 134–43) wherediscussion of commercial wine jars concentrates on thestamped handles with minimal attention to the shapes ofthe vessels themselves.

There is no risk of exaggeration in projecting thisimpact directly to the modern tendency to inventory andpublish jars from before ca. 400 B.C. but only stampsafter that date (there are exceptions, of course). As aresult, for the nonspecialist amphoras have become syn-onymous with amphora stamps. Much of the recent com-mentary on the use of amphoras as a source for economichistory addresses, instead, the use of amphora stamps.While there is acceptance of the idea that some Rhodianand Knidian jars were not stamped (Davies 2001; Gabri-elsen 1997), there is scant recognition among ancienthistorians of the fact that many Aegean amphora produc-ers, even in the Hellenistic period, rarely or never usedstamps.

The background of this current state of affairs is clear,and Jöhrens has brought the primary evidence for theseorigins very accessibly to modern readers’ attention. Andyet, what is one to do with these data? Lolling may haveintended his documentation to be further evidence to-ward determining why the jars were stamped, developingthe history of various magistracies and calendars, anddocumenting broad patterns of ancient commerce. Atany rate Dumont, one of Lolling’s models (noted by Jöh-rens, 1), took these as the major issues for stamp studies(1872, 30–47).

Jöhrens himself keeps any further interpretation ofthe collection to the barest minimum (5–7). The domi-nance of Knidos in Lolling’s records is entirely in keep-ing with other Athenian, Delian, and Tenian collectionsof stamps. Rhodes and Thasos hold second and third rank-ing for Lolling’s group as they do elsewhere in Athensand at Delos and Tenos.

And yet these points of similarity are misleading. In sofar as one might use Jöhrens’s selection of examples fromLolling’s collection (894 out of the original 2,969), thereare significant differences between the statistical pat-terns in Lolling’s collection and patterns from specificexcavations. For example, one can compare the numbersof Knidian stamps per periods III, IVA, IVB, V, and VI inJöhrens’s catalogue with similar data from the AthenianAgora and the Kerameikos (as reconstructed from C.G.Koehler and P.M. Wallace Matheson, “Imports of KnidianWine at Athens and Corinth,” The Amphoras Project, aWeb site [http://www.chass.utoronto.ca:8080/amphoras/aia90.htm, last accessed 29 October 2002], graphs “Knid-ian Imports into Athens: Agora” and “Knidian Importsinto Athens: Kerameikos”). While at both the Agora andKerameikos only 30% of the Knidian stamps fall into pe-

riods III–V, Jöhrens’s catalogue has 75% within thoseperiods. The two samples provided by the Agora and theKerameikos are not significantly different from one an-other in terms of the distribution of Knidian stampsthrough these periods. Lolling’s collection, however, iscompletely different. J. Lund (“Rhodian Amphorae inRhodes and Alexandria as Evidence of Trade,” in V. Gab-rielsen, P. Bilde, T. Engberg-Pedersen, L. Hannestad, andJ. Zahle, eds., Hellenistic Rhodes: Politics, Culture, and Soci-ety [Aarhus 1999] 197–8) has demonstrated the same prob-lem in comparing excavated Rhodian handles from Alex-andria with the patterns seen in “collections.”

As documentation of the origins of modern Aegeanamphora studies, this book is extremely useful. The thor-oughness of the catalogue entries makes this an invalu-able resource for research on particular stamps (brief listsof corrections are provided by Y. Garlan, REG 115 [2002]158; and N. Conovici, Gnomon 74 [2002] 434–5). As atool for the economic historian, however, this collectionshould be used with caution.

Mark L. Lawall

department of classicsuniversity of manitoba220 dysart roadwinnipeg, manitoba [email protected]

Ostia: Port et porte de la Rome antique, ed-ited by J.-P. Descœudres. Pp. xvi + 466, b&w photo-graphs 491, color photographs 128, line draw-ings 42, maps 79, foldout map 1. Musée Rath,Geneva 2001. SF 85. ISBN 2-8257-0728-7 (paper).This is the catalogue for an exhibition devoted en-

tirely to the city of Ostia, the port of Rome. The exhibitwas organized jointly by the Soprintendenza per i BeniArcheologici di Ostia, L’ Unité d’ archéologie classiquede l’Université de Genève, and the Musée d’art etd’histoire, Geneva. The expressed hope for this volumeis to serve not simply as the catalogue for a museumexhibition, but as a major work of reference on Ostia—in that, it is singularly successful since it summarizes thecurrent state of work on the port of Rome. While thevolume has been written by, and for, those who special-ize in Ostia, there is nonetheless something here foreveryone, no matter what approach to Roman archaeol-ogy one espouses. As Pliny the Younger said of somebooks at his Laurentine villa (appropriately enough, lo-cated not far from Ostia), this is a book “which should benot just read but studied.”

The book is divided into 10 sections: “History of theCity and Port,” “History of Discovery and Research,” “Ur-banism and the Techniques of Construction,” “Public Lifeand the Professions,” “Private Life, Habitat and Daily Life,”“Religious Life,” “Sculpture, Painting and Mosaics,” “Worldof the Dead,” and the catalogue. Though several of thecontributions are republications of studies that appearedelsewhere, there is virtue in presenting a unified volumeof important recent papers on Ostia so that they could beappreciated together. It is also advantageous for contrib-


utors to summarize concisely their conclusions from larg-er works.

In a short review, it is impossible to do justice to thevariety of contributions; I therefore focus on highlights(including the excellent illustrations that grace the vol-ume). The opening section gives an excellent summaryof the issue of origins and early development of the city.Contributions by F. Zevi (3–19) and A. Giovannini (36–8) provide the evidence that suggests that Rome (via theappropriation of the territory and salt resources of Ostia)truly was a gateway city, as the term is used in urbaniza-tion studies—a city flourishing in response to increasesin trade and standing on the fringe of an existing net-work of exchanges between Etruscan and Greek urbancenters. The second section on the history of research isinformative, singling out V. Kockel on Ostian buildingsand Italian architecture of the Fascist era (66–73). Thisstudy presents a convincing sociological argument forwhy ancient and modern Italian buildings resemble oneanother (note how the reconstruction Ostian buildingsgets higher, i.e., I. Gismondi’s taller second House of theThermopolium, figs. 2–3 [68]). F. Zevi (114–120), P.A.Verducchi (131–6, greatly enhanced by figs. 1–5), andG. Boetto on preserved boats at Fiumicino (121–30) pro-vide an excellent overview on port and transport issues;Zevi and Verducchi clearly delineate the character of theClaudian and Trajanic ports, and Boetto gives a good pré-cis on the neglected topic of the nature of the transportsthat unloaded the seagoing ships and took cargo up theTiber to Rome. A. Schmölder presents the water deliverysystem (excellent maps, figs. 1 and 3); G. Poccardi dis-cusses baths in a summary that is not only useful for Ostiabut also for Roman baths in general (with excellent plans,figs. 2, 3, and 9). A. Gering on private space (199–211)and T.L. Heres on rental properties (221–9) give praise-worthy versions of “household archaeology.” C. Pavolini(212–20) discusses common ceramic wares and askswhether the interregional appearance of similar commonceramic forms results from simple borrowing, modeling,or “true commercialization”(i.e., the direct choice of copy-ing or adapting forms, a consequence of deliberate mar-keting strategies). C. Liedtke points out how the decora-tion of secondary rooms in maeniana ground floor apart-ments was strikingly standardized. The last section onfunerary questions is worthwhile reading, both specifi-cally for Ostia and on Roman burial practice as a whole.

Although the exhibit itself was small, the items werewell chosen to illustrate effectively a cross-section of lifein port cities. And, as noted by the organizers in theintroduction, only two pieces included were “masterpiec-es,” the rest simply ordinary objects of daily life. Theinclusion of the “Forma Urbis” (cat. IV.1) and a relief ofPortus (cat. IV.3) documented two critical pieces of evi-dence for the nature of the ports and Roman urbanism ingeneral.

The layout of the volume and its illustrations (espe-cially the maps that accompany the separate studies) areall excellent. Footnotes and the bibliography are com-prehensive and informative, offering many details forthe specialist. One desideratum would have been to havemarked all the places discussed in the papers on the fold-out map; without mapped locations even specialists willbe hard pressed to recall exactly the locations described,

and those not intimately familiar with the ruins of Ostiawill find it difficult to visualize the spaces discussed.

Perhaps it is time to stop searching for the successor toR. Meiggs’s Roman Ostia (Oxford 1973) and simply ap-preciate each new major contribution on its own terms.This outstanding volume rightfully takes its place at theforefront of recent research focused on the port andgateway of Rome.

Glenn R. Storey

department of classics and anthropology202 schaeffer halluniversity of iowaiowa city, iowa [email protected]

Roman Sculpture in the Art Museum,Princeton University, edited by J. MichaelPadgett (with contributions by M. Fuchs, H. Meyer,R. Wenning, M. Gawlikowski, T. Najbjerg, R.G.A. Weir,R.J. Cro, M.L. Laird, J.M. Padgett, N. Papalexandrou,C. Moss, N. Aksamija, B. de Maria, J. Pollini, K.Karoglou and M. Marton). Pp. 426, b&w photo-graphs 396, color pls. 12, tables 3, maps 3. TheArt Museum, Princeton University, Princeton2001. $75 (cloth); $45 (paper). ISBN 0-943012-35-x (cloth); 0-943012-34-1 (paper).This beautiful and well-researched volume follows the

publication of 40 pieces in Greek Sculpture in the Art Muse-um, Princeton University (Princeton 1994), which resultedfrom a graduate seminar held in the Department of Clas-sical and Near Eastern Archaeology at Bryn Mawr College,directed by Professor Brunilde S. Ridgway. Together, thesetwo volumes provide a welcome, up-to-date view of sculp-tures in the Princeton Art Museum, replacing FrancesFollin Jones’s Ancient Art in the Art Museum (Princeton1960).

In the foreword, Padgett reviews the history of thecollection and the use of the word Roman in relation toit. He argues in favor of including all sculptures of Ro-man date in such a catalogue, with attention to theirRoman context and country of origin. This volume com-prises sections on portraits, deities and ideal types, ani-mals, sarcophagi, sculpture from Antioch, grave stelaefrom Antioch, Hauranite sculpture, Palmyrene sculpture,and Etruscan sculpture, and finishes with an addendumthat presents three pieces of Greek sculpture acquiredafter the aforementioned Greek catalogue appeared. Ex-cluded are: Cypriot sculptures, which will appear in a fas-cicule of the Corpus of Cypriote Antiquities (SIMA); mostByzantine sculpture, which appeared in the exhibitioncatalogue Byzantium at Princeton, edited by S. Burcib andA. St. Clair (Princeton 1986); architectural fragments fromAntioch and Sardis; carved gemstones; ivory, bone, andamber carvings; terracotta sculptures; small bronzes; andmodern fakes and dubitanda, which include the bust ofCaracalla (inv. 51–72), now recognized as a work of the18th century.

Princeton’s catalogue of Roman sculptures treats 163pieces. Among entries written in very different styles,


those by M. Fuchs stand out as exemplary for their schol-arly interpretations. Each piece is illustrated with consis-tently high quality photographs, many with two, and evensome with seven photographs. Most are of white marble(some identified as Carrara or Luna, Dokimeion, Parian,Pentelic, and Proconnesian), some exceptional piecesare in bronze, and others are made of brown basalt, gialloantico, gray marble, and white and gray limestones, witha few unusual pieces in alabaster, chalk, gypsum plaster,and brown volcanic stone (nenfro); the collection thusprovides a representative view of materials employed forsculpture. Particularly important are sculptures found byPrinceton-sponsored excavations in Roman Syria—atAntioch, Palmyra, and in the Hauran—many publishedhere for the first time, with an emphasis on the archae-ological context, where possible. Introductory essays tothe sections on Antioch, Antiochene grave stelae, andHauranite basalt sculpture from southern Syria provideexcellent background for understanding statuary fromthese areas. An introduction to Palmyrene sculpture andreference to publications about Palmyra and its sculpturealso would have been useful.

Throughout the volume, remarks on technique areuseful, such as indications of ancient reuse and ancientpiecing or repair—an index of these would have beenhelpful. No. 49 once had a separately attached veil, andno. 163, a Ptolemaic piece, is said to be of Egyptian ori-gin because of its small size and piecing, although Helle-nistic Delos has produced numerous examples of piecedsculptures (cf. J. Marcadé, Au Musée de Délos [BÉFAR 215]Paris 1969). Similarly, concerning the remarks for no. 3,Roman reuse of sculptures from an earlier period doesnot occur exclusively in Egypt; reuse is more likely toreflect Roman economic conditions than a shortage ofmarble. Examples of such reuse come from Corinth, Crete,and Olympia (C.E. de Grazia, “Excavations of the Ameri-can School of Classical Studies at Corinth: The RomanPortrait Sculpture,” Ph.D. diss., Columbia University[1973] 286–95, nos. 90–5; M. Weber, “Sabina aus Gortynim Nationalmuseum in Athen,” AA [1999] 493–500; andH.R. Goette and K. Hitzl, “Zwei umgearbeitete Porträt-köpfe in Olympia,” AM 102 [1987] 283–93, respective-ly). Another interesting piece stands out on technicalgrounds: no. 104, a quiver, is described as “crude” and“unfinished,” but it looks as if the stone was intentional-ly given a rough appearance with a flat chisel in order tosuggest the texture of leather. Since no point of attach-ment is preserved it may have occurred on the lower,missing segment where it was probably attached to theback of a figure such as Artemis. And finally, no. 109, afragment of garment, is identified as a toga, but the low-er edge is straight, with no upward curve, as for a hima-tion (S. Stone, “The Toga,” in J.L. Sebesta and L. Bon-fante, eds., The World of Roman Costume [Madison 1994]13–45).

A few references for individual pieces may be added: forAntonine portraits in Athens (no. 16), see K. Rhomiopou-lou, Ελληνρωµαϊκα γλυπτ τυ Εθνικ ΑραιλγικΜυσευ (Athens 1997); and K. Fittschen, Prinzenbildnisseantoninischer Zeit (Mainz 1999), and “Eine Werkstatt attis-cher Porträtbildhauer im 2. Jh. n. Chr.,” in Griechenland inder Kaiserzeit, edited by C. Reusser (Bern 2001) 72–7; onSilenos figures (no. 27), see A. Ajootian, “Silenus at Spar-ta,” in Sculpture from Arcadia and Laconia, edited by O.

Palagia and W. Coulson (Oxford 1993) 251–6; on sculp-ture from Rhodes (nos. 29 and 63), see G.S. Merker, TheHellenistic Sculpture of Rhodes (SIMA 40; Göteborg 1973)and for the over life-size statue in the same format, AgoraS 378, see E.B. Harrison, “Aphrodite Hegemone in theAthenian Agora,” in Akten des XIII: Internationalen Kon-gresses für klassische Archäologie (Mainz 1990) 346, pl. 50:1;on Aphrodite types (no. 55), see C.M. Havelock, The Aph-rodite of Knidos and Her Successors (Ann Arbor 1995); onsculptor’s workshops in the Roman east (no. 56), see P.Rockwell, “Unfinished Statuary Associated with a Sculp-tor’s Studio,” in R.R.R. Smith and K.T. Erim, eds., Aphrodi-sias Papers 2, JRA Suppl. 2 (Ann Arbor 1991) 127–43; onIsis sculpture (no. 58), see E.J. Walters, Attic Grave Reliefsthat Represent Women in the Dress of Isis, Hesperia Suppl. 22(Princeton 1988); to the discussion of plaster sculpturesin the round (no. 67), add D. Arnold, “The Workshop ofthe Sculptor Thutmose,” in D. Arnold, ed., The Royal Wom-en of Amarna (New York 1996) 41–83, esp. 46–51, and C.Reinsberg, Studien zur hellenistischen Toreutik (Hildesheim1980); for the possible trapezophoros (no. 69), see T. Ste-fanidou-Tiveriou, Τραπεφρα τυ Μυσευ Θεσσαλνκης(Thessaloniki 1985), and Τραπεφρα µε πλαστικ!διακµηση: η αττικ! µδα (Athens 1993); and for sculptedbusts on crowns (no. 154, a priest’s head), see J. Rumsc-heid, Kranz und Krone (Tübingen 2000).

In summary, this volume on the Roman sculptures inthe Art Museum of Princeton University is handsomelyproduced and contains much good research and analyticdiscussion. The Princeton museum possesses an impor-tant collection of classical sculpture, and it is well servedby its two recent volumes.

Mary C. Sturgeon

department of artuniversity of north carolina at chapel hillchapel hill, north carolina [email protected]

Senatorische Sarkophage Roms, by HenningWrede. (Monumenta Artis Romanae 29.) Pp. 146,pls. 24. Philipp von Zabern, Mainz 2001. DM 108;€55.22. ISBN 3-8053-2696-3 (cloth).Roman art has long been classified as class conscious.

Sponsored by men and women of sundry social and eth-nic backgrounds, the art of Rome was undeniably shapedby the societal rank of its patrons. It was the eminentItalian scholar Ranucchio Bianchi Bandinelli who, alreadyin the 1960s, coined the terms “patrician” and ”plebeian”to distinguish the varied art commissioned by aristocratsand freedmen and set in motion an assiduous quest tocharacterize the latter.

Prior to that, privileged Romans reigned supreme. Thehistory of Roman art was the history of art commissionedby elite Roman emperors and other noble Roman fami-lies. Bianchi Bandinelli unleashed the Roman proletari-at, and what followed was an international obsession withthe art of the dispossessed—slaves brought from foreignlands and the Italian poor. As these individuals and theirart were revealed, it quickly became clear that while theirmonuments often mimicked those of their Roman social


superiors, they partook of their own traditions and dis-tinctive artistic predilections.

The art honoring Rome’s slaves and freed people wasabove all sepulchral—marble memorials situated on thefacades of and inside tombs and carved with portraits andfigural scenes. These grave monuments preserved thefeatures of the deceased for posterity and accompanyingLatin epitaphs memorialized their family relationshipsand professional accomplishments.

Henning Wrede has been one of the foremost con-tributors to understanding this nonelite group of Romanpatrons, publishing notable articles and books on por-traits of departed persons reclining on funerary beds (AA[1977] 395–431; [1981] 86–131), residing in tomb ped-iments (RM 78 [1971] 125–66), and assimilated to divin-ities (Consecratio in Formam Deorum [Mainz 1981]).

Wrede has now turned his attention back to the Ro-man elite but not as a monolithic phenomenon. He drawsa distinction among art created at the behest of emper-ors, senators, and equestrians. This is not a new approach.Already in 1966, F.J. Hassel (Die Trajansbogen in Benevent[Mainz 1966]) presented the Arch of Trajan at Beneven-to as the product of a senatorial workshop, and otherscholars have followed suit.

Yet Wrede’s tactic is different. He eschews arches andother great state monuments in favor of private senatori-al funerary commemorations, namely stone coffins carvedwith figural scenes and portraits. The book’s subtitle, “DerBeitrag des Senatorenstandes zur römischen Kunst derhohen und späten Kaiserzeit,” underscores the author’sintention to focus on art as self-representation amongthe senatorial class and its effect on the art of Rome andthe provinces.

Wrede’s theories about Roman senatorial art are pred-icated on the change in the senate’s status beginning inthe third century. Under Augustus, the senate retainedits position as Rome’s most potent and significant legisla-tive body. Augustus pared the senate’s size and raised thelevel of resources needed for membership. He alsostrengthened a son’s hereditary right to follow in hisfather’s senatorial footsteps. Furthermore, Augustus for-tified the emperor’s right to adlect new men into thesenate, invigorating his own powers of patronage.

New men continued to be inducted in the first andsecond centuries, increasingly from the provinces. BySeveran times, nearly half the senate had non-Italianorigins. Senators retained significant power in the sec-ond century and emperors without sons even selectedsenators to succeed them.

As Wrede points out, all of this changed in the thirdand fourth centuries. Third-century emperors came andwent and, by Tetrarchic times, Rome’s supreme leadersdid not even live in the capital. Some senators were de-moted to equestrian status, the two ranks began to blend,and the senatorial title was increasingly granted to mili-tary men. Augustus’s senate of 600 men grew to around2,000 in the fourth century. In addition, Constantinefounded a second senate in the empire’s new capital atConstantinople, which also had about 2,000 members.Patricians served in the senate cheek by jowl with mili-tary men of humble origin. While this might seem re-freshingly democratic, it actually paved the way for theemperor’s acquisition of awesome imperial authority, with-out the senate’s earlier checks and balances.

As these new senators looked for ways to memorializetheir new-found prominence in art, they were first drawnto the earlier visual vocabulary of Antonine and SeveranRome’s senatorial elite. This featured the vita humana ofa Roman aristocrat on sarcophagi—battles, weddings, andthe birth and education of children—and reached itsapex under Gallienus. The second and early third-centu-ry examples are part of a subset of surviving Roman cof-fins, which Wrede associates with senatorial patrons. Hebases his hypothesis on a smattering of epitaphs and thecoffin’s subject matter (generals in battle and senatorialprocessions), a cache of sarcophagi belonging to the pa-trician family Calpurnii Pisones, and the relief depictionsof such senatorial paraphernalia as the sella curulis orsella castrensis.

Wrede treats a suitable succession of topics in part 1:the interest and relevance of the book’s subject, scholar-ship to date, and methodological challenges in identify-ing senatorial sarcophagi and discerning senatorial statussymbols and other imagery. Wrede notes, as many schol-ars have before him, that the vita humana’s biographicalepisodes, repeated on one coffin after another, are notonly standard war and family vignettes but emblems ofmanly virtue—the granting of mercy to a worthy foe (clem-entia), loyalty (pietas), peaceful union (concordia), andvalor (virtus). This canon of virtues is spread across themain bodies, sides, and lids of a veritable who’s who ofRoman sarcophagi: marriage sarcophagi in Mantua, Flo-rence, and Los Angeles, and the Portonaccio and Ludovi-si battle sarcophagi. In part 2, Wrede discusses other kindsof senatorial coffins in which wedding scenes and thelives of children predominate.

Wrede makes his case for senatorial commissions. Somearguments are convincing, others somewhat less so. TheBalbinus sarcophagus makes a fascinating case study. Mostscholars, myself included, have presented it as one of themost important imperial commissions of the third centu-ry. It stands out as a masterpiece in an otherwise barrenartistic milieu. Yet, as Wrede points out, the main protag-onist’s identification as the emperor Balbinus is not se-cure. While there is a general similarity between thesarcophagus portraits and Balbinus’s likeness on coins,there is no recognized portrait replica series for the short-lived emperor. In addition, Wrede suggests that the cof-fin’s scenes—marriage and crowning by Victory—are stan-dard for senatorial sarcophagi by this time.

The book culminates in part 3, where Wrede surveysthe impact of these senatorial sarcophagi on Roman pri-vate and public art of the mid and late empire. What hededuces is that the change in the Roman senator’s rolewas reflected in his concomitant attempt as patron toredefine himself in sepulchral art. New themes and mo-tifs were developed to reflect this transformation. Thenew senators jettisoned the aristocrat’s vita humana infavor of presenting themselves on their sarcophagi ascivic leaders, namely cultivated officials bearing scrolls.These new men were also depicted as hunters and inbucolic settings, both genres subsequently adopted, ac-cording to Wrede, in public art in Rome.

Wrede’s Senatorische Sarkophage Roms is an importantbook because it boldly attempts a more nuanced under-standing of elite Roman art. Despite Gerhard Roden-waldt’s proclamation in the 1940s that Roman sarcophagiwere “an aristocratic form of art” (JdI 55 [1940] 12; RM


58 [1943] 4–5) and the likelihood that many Romancoffins housed the remains of the Roman elite, I contin-ue to believe that many others belonged to the long andunbroken continuum of showy funerary art commissionedby freedmen. Nonetheless, I find myself swayed by Wre-de’s compelling arguments, and I look forward to thefuture work on the subtleties of elite Roman art that thisfirst-rate book will likely inspire.

Diana E.E. Kleiner

departments of classics and history of artyale universitynew haven, connecticut [email protected]

Epigraphic Evidence: Ancient History from In-scriptions, edited by John Bodel. (Approachingthe Ancient World.) Pp. xxvi + 246, figs. 27.Routledge, New York 2001. $75 (cloth); $24.95(paper). ISBN 0-415-11623-6 (cloth); 0-415-11624-4 (paper).This collection of essays aims at an audience of “non-

specialist readers” (xvii), defined more specifically as “stu-dents of ancient history, general classicists, and any oth-ers interested in learning what kinds of historical evidenceGreek and Latin inscriptions provide” (xix). As a defenseof the use of epigraphy in the discipline of history, thebook seems behind the times, posing a challenge, explic-itly stated, to 16th- to early 20th-century nay-sayers (1,138). As an explication of how Greek and Latin epigraphycan be put to use by the ancient historian, the book inher-its advantages and disadvantages of that alliance.

Advantages are appropriately paraded in Bodel’s re-port of fruitful cross-fertilization of the disciplines (“Epig-raphy and the Ancient Historian,” 1–56). Disadvantagesemerge when he puts theory to practice. The statementsthat “inscriptions, it is generally assumed, were meant tobe read” (15), “a checkerboard pattern (stoichedon) madereading difficult” (27), and “the inscribing of the dedica-tion [i.e., the altar of Peisistratos, IG 13.948] constitutespart of the historical episode Thucydides [6.54.6] records”(42) are not points of agreement among epigraphistsand historians, but are points of controversy, and refer-ence to the Segesta Decree (IG I3.11) as “an inscriptionof 418/7 BCE” without qualification (182 n. 15) misrep-resents the efforts of all parties involved in the disputeconcerning its date.

Case studies from five ardent partisans of epigraphy intheir own areas of research are presented in succeedingchapters (57–152): M. Parca, “Local Languages and Na-tive Cultures”; O. Salomies, “Names and Identities: Ono-mastics and Prosopography”; R. Saller, “The Family andSociety”; J. Rives, “Civic and Religious Life”; and G. Pucci,“Inscribed Instrumentum and the Ancient Economy.” Theessays serve as helpful annotations to the bibliography ofnearly 700 entries; Salomies and Rives, in particular, pointto standard editions of the epigraphical texts, transla-tions, and thoughtfully selected discussions, and Pucci tosummaries of controversial topics. Following up the pro-vided leads is made more difficult by incorrect and super-

seded epigraphical citations (n.b.: p. 42, IG 12.761 = IG13.948; p. 129, SIG 3 986 includes CIG 2 add. 2214c; p.130, SIG 3 1029 = IG 22.1496; p. 136, for the two AE refer-ences, see now I.Perge 157 no. 118), and the book merit-ed a glossary to aid in retrieving epigraphical terms thatare defined in the text.

The appendix, “A Brief Guide to Some Standard Collec-tions” (153–74), compiled by Bodel, is useful. To his soundbut somewhat taxing recommendation (153) that a stu-dent new to epigraphy “read through the larger collec-tions of selected texts,” I would add a prior reading of R.Meiggs and D. Lewis, A Selection of Greek Historical Inscrip-tions, 2nd ed. (Oxford 1988) and A.E. Gordon, IllustratedIntroduction to Latin Epigraphy (Berkeley 1983) as tutorialguides. With those books well thumbed, a student whoengages in careful examination of previous scholarly stud-ies on selected inscriptions, preferably in the order ofpublication, will turn up the idiosyncrasies and value ofepigraphical evidence, of its bibliography, and of its study.

Encouraging the nonspecialist, as Epigraphic Evidencewill probably succeed in doing, is a fine thing. Discount-ing “the technical training required of those who wouldcall themselves epigraphists” (xvii) is not. I am afraidthat it encourages folly and failure for the editor to urgethat “for all the potential pitfalls into which the unwarymay stumble, the vast, rich territory constituted by thewealth of surviving Greek and Latin inscriptions con-tains many more deposits of valuable information thanfool’s gold.” (55) While the encouraged unwary are sentout to stumble into pitfalls, which they assuredly will, thevast, rich territory of Greek and Latin inscriptions willremain, but it will remain largely closed to them and outof their reach. Making a headlong rush from EpigraphicEvidence into the epigraphical fray will not prepare thenonspecialist to read nor to write discerningly about an-cient history in the light of epigraphical evidence.

One historiographical clarification (1–2): it was withtongue in cheek that J.E. Sandys wrote of “Epigraphy . . .unduly encroaching on the provinces of History, and ofPublic and Private Antiquities” (Latin Epigraphy [Cambridge1919] 1)—friend, not foe. (See ibid, 2–fin. The book isnow in a second edition, revised by S.G. Campbell [Cam-bridge 1927, repr. Chicago 1974], and recommended.)

M.B. Richardson

SUPPLEMENTUM EPIGRAPHICUM GRAECUM

american school of classical studiesat athens

54 souidias streetathens [email protected]

Hengeworld: Life in Britain 2000 BC as Re-vealed by the Latest Discoveries at Stone-henge, Avebury and Stanton Drew, by Mike Pitts.Pp. 409, figs. 57, pls. 18. Arrow, London 2001.$13.95. ISBN 0-09-927875-8 (paper).After Waterworld, here is Hengeworld. While not a

Hollywood blockbuster, the title of this book sets thetone for the enterprise—intended for the general read-


er, the interested amateur, and the U.S. market. MikePitts has become known as one of the leading English-language “popular” writers of prehistoric archaeology,and this, his latest effort, will be guaranteed a wideaudience through its title alone. This is in fact a revisedand updated edition of a work that first appeared in2000 and immediately went into the list of archaeolog-ical bestsellers.

As a professional archaeologist who has published onthe topic covered by this book I should declare an inter-est at the start. In 1981, I published a report on a groupof henge monuments in northern England, and in 1987a catalogue of all henge sites. The first is not mentionedat all, and the second is referenced just once in theendnotes. While Pitts clearly did not think this materialrelevant to his theme, it did engender some questionsin my mind about the coverage of the work, and dueallowance should be made for any possible bias in whatfollows.

The book’s “popular” tone is unremittingly familiar.We have Mark and Tim and Andrew working away at geo-physical surveys; Paul and Janet doing soil analysis; Terryand Jackie doing bones; and Robin doing facial recon-structions. We are even treated to the curious spectacleof figures long dead referred to by their Christian names:Ben and Maud (Cunnington). Little vignettes are pro-vided of some of the principal players: Richard Atkinson,“cigarette in long holder”; Geoffrey Wainwright, a “min-er’s son” who “felt little need to consult older archaeolo-gists” and “no intellectual”; Jeremy Dronfield, “laid backin collarless black shirt . . . gray-blue eyes peering throughboyish fringe.” Many of the chapters start with a littlescene-setting, in the now-clichéd manner of much popu-lar science: “Joe Bloggs was just sitting down to dinnerwhen the phone rang. It was Bert Smith at the otherend. ‘You had better come down to Salisbury straight-away. We have made an extraordinary discovery.’ Joe’s lifewould never be the same again.” This is a caricature butnot, I think, an inaccurate one.

On the other hand, Pitts really is an authority on Stone-henge and Avebury, which form the principal focus ofthe book. Formerly Curator of the Alexander KeillerMuseum at Avebury, he conducted an excellent and high-ly important excavation on the roadside at Stonehengein 1979–1980, published in exemplary fashion (PPS 48[1982] 75–132). After a spell as a restauranteur (propri-etor of “The Stones” at Avebury), he went into privateconsultancy and authorship, and is now Consultant toEnglish Heritage on the archaeological contents of theproposed new Visitor Center for Stonehenge (which isinching its way toward the top of the administration’sagenda). Few people know Stonehenge as well as hedoes. Which makes it all the more frustrating that onehas to dig so hard in this book to find out the facts thatare novel. A good many of them relate to the history ofStonehenge and Avebury, in particular the rediscoveryof human skeletal material from these sites in the Nat-ural History Museum in London, and the excavationsconducted by Colonel Hawley in the 1920s. Some ofthem relate to Pitts’s views on the Stonehenge sequenceand the relative dating of the monuments. The laterparts of the book, and in particular chapters 28–29, are

scientific in tone and could almost be published in ascientific journal. The casual reader will find them rela-tively hard going after the “voyage of discovery” of theearlier parts of the book, but they do contain some mat-ters of real interest. Pitts himself clearly regards thebook as representing a scientific contribution: I heardhim say in a recent lecture, “As I demonstrated in mybook Hengeworld . . .” There is science here, but youhave to work to dig it out. The strange mismatch ofpopularization and science is nowhere more evident thanin the long lists of radiocarbon dates, which can be ofno conceivable interest to the general reader, but areindispensable for the specialist. The latter is also wellserved by the extensive set of endnotes (35 pages ofthem).

So Pitts regards this as a serious work, and we areentitled to judge it as such. Here, my main criticism isnot of what Pitts says (any inaccuracies I noted wereminor), but of what he does not say. If there was such athing as “Hengeworld” (i.e., Britain in the Late Neolith-ic and Beaker period), then presumably it was repre-sented by the area covered by henge monuments.Though you would not think it from this book, that isthe whole of Britain, and arguably the east of Ireland aswell. But references to sites outside Wessex (whereStonehenge and Avebury lie) are few and far between.There is no distribution map of henge sites; there areno plans of any sites outside Wessex (Stanton Drew lieson the fringes); mentions of sites in other areas arerestricted to brief sentences or at most a paragraph. Inthis respect, Pitts had a model to follow: Wainwright’sThe Henge Monuments (London 1989) was also almostentirely about Wessex and mostly about the large sitesof Durrington Walls type that I have termed henge-enclosures, and which Wainwright excavated himself.Where is the bigger picture here? We now appreciatethat the henge phenomenon was a complex one, with acontinuum of practice linking the concepts of “henge,”“stone circle,” “timber circle,” and the like. Stonehengewas assuredly the most complex and most hybridized ofthis continuum, but it was merely one part of a practicethat extended from Cornwall to Orkney, changed overtime and space, and may or may not have originated inWessex. You cannot do justice to the henge concept (orindeed any other aspect of prehistoric Britain) by talk-ing solely about Wessex; unfortunately, archaeologistsbased in southern England have extraordinary difficul-ty grasping this simple fact.

In spite of all this, I enjoyed reading the book. Its racystyle mixes hard fact and anecdote easily, and it makesno concessions to the lunatic fringe who want to seeStonehenge as a launch pad for spaceships or an eclipsepredictor—he is particularly hard in chapter 24 on Alex-ander Thom, Gerald Hawkins, and Fred Hoyle, and, lat-er on, the ideas of Mircea Eliade. “It doesn’t matter howmany times the claims are made, how superficially per-suasive they look or how apparently convinced theirpromoters are of their veracity, they are all completefantasy. When we read these accounts, we have to askourselves, what do we really want to do? Learn about thepeople who built Stonehenge? Or play games?” (227).Quite so.


The general reader will learn much from this book,and the specialist will come away having spent an enjoy-able couple of hours. This, presumably, was the object ofthe exercise.

Anthony F. Harding

department of archaeologyuniversity of durhamsouth roaddurham dh1 3leunited [email protected]

Salona. Vol. 3, Manastirine: Établissementpréromain, nécropole et basilique paléo-chrétienne. Recherches archéologiquesfranco-croates à Salone, directed by N. Duval,E. Marin, and C. Metzger, (with contributions byM. Bonačić Mandinj, N. Cambi, P. Chevalier, N.Duval, J. Mardešić, E. Marin, and A. Šarić-Bužančić).(CÉFR 194.3; Niz ‘Salona’ Archaeological MuseumSplit, 8.) Pp. 688, b&w figs. 252, color pls. 2. deBoccard, Paris; L’ERMA di Bretschneider, Rome;Archaeological Museum, Split 2000. ISSN 0223-5099; ISBN 2-7283-0588-9 (paper).Salona, the capital of the Roman province of Dalmatia,

is perhaps less well known than the nearby rural Palace ofDiocletian, which became the nucleus of the Medievaltown of Split. Manastirine, whose name derives from thesupposed Medieval monastery that the ancient ruins werethought to represent, lies on the northern outskirts ofthe city in the vicinity of an ancient cemetery, which prob-ably stretched from its northern to its eastern suburbs.John Wilkes, one of the principal scholars writing on Dal-matia in English, has said, with reference to Salona: “as aplace for the study of early Christian archaeology, it issecond only to Ravenna” (Dalmatia [London 1969] 428).In terms of detail, the present publication certainly doesthis claim justice. The scope of the archaeological evi-dence is immense. Not only is there a basilica (color pls. 1,2), whose rich architectural remains are available for pub-lic viewing, but there is a large number of early Christianburials, many in decorated sarcophagi, numerous funeraryinscriptions, even painted tombs (fig. 94).

Tradition held that Domnio, a missionary from Nisibisin Mesopotamia, and arguably the first bishop of Salona,was martyred in the city’s amphitheater in 304 C.E., alongwith four Christian soldiers who belonged to Diocletian’spersonal bodyguard and a Christian priest called Asterius.Some scholars have argued (notably J. Brøndsted, R. Eg-ger, and E. Dyggve) that their remains were buried in achapel at Kapljuc, closer to the site of the amphitheater,and were later transferred to Monastirine. The legend-ary identification of Monastirine with the final restingplace of the martyrs was well known locally, even beforeinvestigations of any serious kind began. Jacob Spon andGeorge Wheler, traveling to Greece in 1676, were showna hole in the ground amid the ruins, which their local

guides indicated as the tomb of Domnio, along with tombsattributed to other distinguished local prelates. Over thenext two centuries, occasional investigations took place,particularly after the establishment of an archaeologicalmuseum at Split in 1820. The structural remains were stilllargely concealed below, and protected by, several metersof silt. But the main challenge to all investigators was thedivision of the locality into fields owned or leased bydifferent families. The determination of museum cura-tors to investigate, and the willingness of local farmers tocomply, increased with the discovery of a number of in-scribed sarcophagi, which made it clear that an importantChristian cemetery did indeed underlie these fields.

Regular excavations began in 1865 and continued until1906. A series of major publications followed, by J. Ber-valdi, R. Egger, Fr. Bulic (based on the excavations con-ducted by him, initially under the direction of M. Glavin-ic, director of the Zagreb Museum), and E. Dyggve. Atfirst, it is not clear to the reader why the first 85 pages ofthis monograph are taken up with a detailed descriptionof early investigations of the site. The reason for suchcopious references do become clear, when, in the secondhalf of the book, the Croat and French team that re-investigated the whole site under a joint program be-tween 1983 and 1997 reveal just how different their in-terpretation of the remains is, compared with that oftheir predecessors.

Chapter 2 (in Croat, with French summary), describesthe new trenches investigated under the direction of E.Marin and J. Mardešib, who intended to keep interven-tion to a minimum; the burials thereby discovered, theiranthropological and ceramic contents. These providedthe first evidence of pre-Imperial occupation of the site,in the form of wall sections, transport amphoras, andcoarse ceramics, dating to the late second century B.C.E.,and ending in a violent destruction, which seems con-temporary with the defeat of the Dalmatians in 78–76,when Salona was captured by the victorious Roman pro-consul, C. Cosconius. (These ephemeral remains corre-spond with the “établissement préromain” in the mono-graph’s title, and tentatively are identified as a rural prop-erty or dwelling [620]). I found it extremely difficult toidentify in the text the interesting ceramic material il-lustrating this early phase, the only evidence of the pre-Imperial age so far identified from Salona as a whole. Theskeletal data from the Roman cemetery examined so farprovides a useful beginning to a longer-term study ofanthropological evidence, not least because it includesinfant and young children’s burials, as well as adult maleand female samples.

There follows a review by the excavation team of thecemetery (ch. 3), including a resume and catalogue ofsarcophagi, dated between the second and fourth centu-ries C.E. (N. Cambi), and of older finds: sculpted urns,and small finds from burials, a bronze horse bit and ham-mer, minor items of jewelry, coins, stamped bricks (main-ly of north Italian manufacture), and glass paste inlays.Their chronology spans the entire use of the cemetery,from the first to fifth centuries.

Chapter 4 provides a detailed survey of the architec-tural remains and forms the largest part of the book (283–617). All earlier publications were restudied, new plans


and drawings prepared, partial and complete reconstruc-tions attempted. The clarity of this section has beenenhanced by the joint investigating team’s keen aware-ness of the ambiguous nature of the evidence on lesswell-preserved sites. Hence, much attention is paid herenot just to the sequence of structures, or to the coexist-ence of different structures, but also to the finishingmaterials of floors, walls, and ceilings. The investigatorshave worked hard to combine the richness of earlier finds,whose significance or purpose was not always understood,with exact contexts and a structural rationale. The elab-orate interlaces of mosaic floors are reunited with theirmarble counterparts from the choir stall. The drawingsand photographic record are far more complete and co-herent than anything previously attempted. The monu-mentalization of the martyrs’ memorials, by the additionof successive superstructures, has been rethought. Belowtomb “O,” a grave on three levels forms the earliest buri-al in this location. But one or more reliquaries, probablythose of Domnio and of five military martyrs, were placedin a vaulted construction, evidently marble revetted,which was inscribed. The sarcophagus of Primus, Dom-nio’s successor, is the first clear sign of high status ac-corded to the interred individuals, and constitutes thebest evidence for the beginnings of monumental treat-ment of the martyrs’ tombs. The assumption of the in-vestigators is that the first monumentalization of thissmall nucleus of tombs occurred after Primus’s death, ca.350, when his tomb was covered up and became inacces-sible, whereas the reliquaries were, at least for a while,accessible. His memorial is still quite simple: “DepositusPrimus episcopus, [date], nepos Domnionis martores.” Thisis the principal evidence for Primus’s status in the earlychurch. It is striking that the lintel slab over the maindoorway into the basilica was inscribed, “Deus noster pro-pitius esto rei publicae romanae” (O God, be merciful tothe Roman republic,” fig. 130).

Since the main plan of the basilica was investigated inthe 19th century, before the development of relativeceramic chronologies, the previous dating of the variousarchitectural phases relied on a combination of historicaldata, architectural analogies, and internal evidence (thedating of sarcophagi and inscriptions within the basili-ca). The recent investigations have made it possible tobring together information from the widest body of sourc-es, which were only available in part to previous synthe-sizers. The concluding section (by N. Duval and E. Marinin French, resume in Croat) summarizes these findings.The earliest burials outside the city walls date back to thefirst century, and belong, perhaps predictably, to soldiersand a veteran. A further group of monuments, with con-ventional pagan dedications, dates to the second centu-ry. During the third, and especially the fourth century,the cemetery expanded dramatically, with pit and tile

graves and sarcophagi nestling cheek by jowl. Althoughthe layout of tombs is hard to reconstruct in places, itseems that there is a distinction between more distantareas and those adjacent to the basilica itself, where rec-ognizably Christian tombs aligned themselves in relationto the martyrs’ monuments. As R. Egger argued, perhapssome sarcophagi were moved to make way for the newbuilding. From the fourth century onward, the orienta-tion of burials changed dramatically. Monuments datableto the second half of the fourth century and beginningof the fifth, mainly sarcophagi belonging to distinguishedindividuals, were grouped around an open “area” east ofthe later basilica.

The investigators reject the idea, postulated by Egger,and elaborated by Dyggve, that a rural property existedin the late third century (Egger’s “Landhaus”), wherethe earliest Christian burials were located. Instead of theperistyle building with an apse on the east side, as postu-lated by Egger and Dyggve, the current investigators pro-pose a walled precinct adjoining the martyrs’ memorials(tomb O, attributed to Domnio, and the sarcophagus ofhis nephew and successor as bishop, Primus), located westof the said area. The presumed martyrs’ memorials formedthe center of an arc of chapels belonging to the firstmonumental phase (639, fig. 246), beginning perhapsin the early fourth century, but continuing to develop, asprivileged burials were added, into the 430s. The openplan arrangement was reconfigured in the early fifth cen-tury, when the first basilica was created, with the “tran-sept” overlying the martyrs’ memorials. The western chap-els were eliminated and the easternmost excluded fromthe covered plan. But chapels VII and VIII, on the north-ern flank, were retained in the basilican plan through-out the fifth and sixth centuries (Dyggve included thesein his fifth century phase only). The church was aban-doned ca. 600, probably in the aftermath of Slav inva-sions. The press that Egger identified as belonging to his“Landhaus” dates in fact to a later reuse of the ruinedremains, in the late sixth or more likely seventh century.

The comparatively complex presentation of the datameans that many potential readers may lose heart beforethey have reached a clear appreciation of what this bookcontains. This would be a pity, as the contents are trulyextraordinary, and of exceptional interest to social histo-rians and archaeologists alike.

Zofia Halina Archibald

school of archaeology, classics,and oriental studies

university of liverpool12 abercromby squareliverpool l69 3bxunited [email protected]

322

BOOKS RECEIVED

Alecs the Holy. Gods’s Wands: An Outsider’s Survey of Tradi-tion. Pp. 401. Outlands Five, Parkdale, Calif. 2002. $30.ISBN 0-921688-23-7 (paper).

Ammerman, Rebecca Miller. The Sanctuary of Santa Veneraat Paestum. Vol. 2, The Votive Terracottas. Pp. xv + 440, figs.6, pls. 100, tables 10, maps 2. University of MichiganPress, Ann Arbor 2002. $150. ISBN 0-472-10899-9 (cloth).

Arthur, Paul. Naples: From Roman Town to City-State. (Ar-chaeological Monographs of the British School at Rome12.) Pp. xv + 197, figs. 86. The British School at Rome,London 2002. £27.95. ISBN 0-904152-38-3 (paper).

Banning, E.B. Archaeological Survey. (Manuals in Archaeo-logical Method, Theory, and Technique.) Pp. xxi + 273,figs. 38, tables 3. Kluwer Academic/Plenum, New York2002. $50. ISBN 0-306-47348-8 (paper).

Barber, Robin. City Guide: Athens. 5th ed. (Blue Guide CityGuide.) Pp. 319, figs. 20, maps 28. W.W. Norton, NewYork 2002. $22.95. ISBN 0-393-32342-0 (paper).

Bergamini, Margherita, ed. La Collezione numismatica diEmilio Bonci Casuccini. (Archaeologica 132.) Pp. 219, figs.14, pls. 27, tables 2. Giorgio Bretschneider Editore, Rome2001. €130. ISSN 0391-9293; ISBN 88-7689-203-6 (paper).

Berges, Dietrich. Antike Siegel und Glasgemmen der SammlungMaxwell Sommerville im University of Pennsylvania Museumof Art and Archaeology, Philadelphia PA. Pp. 78, b&w pls.66, color pls. 4. Philipp von Zabern, Mainz 2002. €69.50.ISBN 3-8053-2888-5 (cloth).

Berndt, Dietrich. Midasstadt in Phrygien: Eine sagenum-wobene Statte im anatolischen Hochland. (Zaberns Bildbandezur Archaologie.) Pp. 80, b&w figs. 33, color photographs81, maps 2. Philipp von Zabern, Mainz 2002. €34.80.ISBN 3-8053-2855-9 (cloth).

Blonde, Francine, Pascale Ballet, and Jean-FrançoisSalles, eds. Ceramiques héllénistiques et romaines: Produc-tions et diffusion en Mediterranée orientale (Chypre, Égypte etcôte syro-palestiniènne.) (Travaux de la Maison de L’OrientMediterranéen 35.) Pp. 341, figs. 204, tables 6, maps 5.Maison de l’Orient Mediterranéen-Jean Pouilloux, Lyon2002. ISSN 0766-0510; ISBN 2-903264-77-5 (paper).

Bohr, Elke. Corpus Vasorum Antiquorum Deutschland 9. Berlin,Antikensammlung ehemals Antiquarium: Attisch rotfigürigeHydrien attische Firnis-Hydrien. Pp. 92, figs. 22, pls. 60. C.H.Beck, Munchen 2002. €80. ISBN 3-406-49044-1 (cloth).

Bonetti, Sophie, ed. Gli Opifici di Urkesh: Conservazione erestauro a Tell Mozan. (Bibliotheca Mesopotamica 27,Urkesh/Mozan Studies 4.) Pp. 106, figs. 17, pls. 28, CD-ROM 1. Undena, Malibu, Calif. 2001. $30; CD-ROM $5.ISBN 0-89003-511-1 (paper).

Bostwick, Todd W. Landscapes of the Spirits: Hohokam RockArt at South Mountain Park. Pp. xxv + 252, figs. 288, colorpls. 71, maps 6. University of Arizona Press, Tucson 2002.$27.95. ISBN 0-8165-2184-0 (paper).

Buccellati, Giorgio, and Marilyn Kelly-Buccellati,edS. Urkesh and the Hurrians: Studies in Honor of LloydCotsen. (Bibliotheca Mesopotamica 26, Urkesh/MozanStudies 3.) Pp. 200, figs. 11, pls. 28, maps 3, CD-ROM 1.Undena, Malibu, Calif. 1998. $30. ISBN 0-89003-502-2(paper).

Carr, Gillian, and Simon Stoddart. eds. Celts from Antiq-uity. (Antiquity Papers 2.) Pp. 338, figs. 176, tables 2,maps 4. Antiquity, Cambridge 2002. $29.95. ISBN 0-9539762-1-1 (paper).

Colonna, Giovanni, ed. Il Santuario di Portonaccio a Veio.Vol. 1, Gli Scavi di Massimo Pallottino nella zona dell’ altare(1939–1940). (Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei,Monumenti Antichi Serie Miscellanea VI-3.) Pp. 293, figs.30, pls. 80. Giorgio Bretschneider Editore, Rome 2002.€150. ISSN 0391-8084; ISBN 88-7689-209-5 (paper).

Crotty, Raymond, ed. When Histories Collide: The Develop-ment and Impact of Individualistic Capitalism. Pp. xxxvi +311, tables 27. AltaMira, Walnut Creek, Calif. 2002.$29.95. ISBN 0-7591-0158-2 (paper).

Davis, Theodore, M. The Tomb of Thoutmosis IV. Reprint.Pp. xlv + 149, figs. 49, pls. 28. Duckworth, London 2002.$29.95. ISBN 0-7156-3120-9 (paper).

Doran, Glen H., ed. Windover: Multidisciplinary Investiga-tions of an Early Archaic Florida Cemetery. (The Ripley P.Bullen Series.) Pp. xix + 392, figs. 215, tables 65, maps13. University Press of Florida, Gainesville 2002. $75.ISBN 0-8130-2510-9 (cloth).

Douglas, John G. Hinterland Houses: Rural Agrarian House-hold Diversity in Northwest Honduras. Pp. xiv + 192, figs.59, tables 17, maps 2. University Press of Colorado, Boul-der 2002. $34.95. ISBN 0-87081-664-0 (cloth).

Drandake, Nikolaou V. Βυαντιν γλυπτ της Μνης (ΗΒιλιθκη τ ης εν Αθναις Αραιλγικ ης Εταιρεας222.) Pp. 393, figs. 478. (The Archaeological Society atAthens, Athens 2001. ISSN 1105-7785; ISBN 960-8145-32-5 (paper).

Eule, J. Cordelia. Hellenistische Burgerinnen aus Kleinasien:Weibliche Gewandstatuen in ihrem antiken Kontext. Pp. xii +230, pls. 24. Task Vakfi, Istanbul 2001. ISBN 975-6637-02-1 (cloth).

Evans, Harry B. Aqueduct Hunting in the Seventeenth Century:Raffaello Fabretti’s ‘De acquis et aquaeductibus veteris Romae’.Pp. xvi + 309, figs. 34, maps 4. University of MichiganPress, Ann Arbor 2002. $55. ISBN 0-472-11248-1 (cloth).

Eyre, Christopher. The Cannibal Hymn: A Cultural andLiterary Study. Pp. xiv + 272, figs. 11, pls. 2. LiverpoolUniversity Press, Liverpool 2002. $59.95. ISBN 0-85323-696-8 (cloth).

Falconer, John, and Thomas Mannack. Corpus VasorumAntiquorum Great Britain 19: Winchester College. Pp. 26,figs. 6, pls. 16. The British Academy, Oxford UniversityPress, Oxford 2002. $72. ISBN 0-19-726257-0 (cloth).

Freeman, Philip. War, Women and Druids: Eyewitness Reportsof Early Accounts of the Ancient Celts. Pp. x + 100, map 1.University of Texas Press, Austin 2002. $24.95. ISBN 0-292-72545-0 (cloth).

Freke, David. Excavations on St. Patrick’s Isle, Peel, Isle ofMan, 1982–88: Prehistoric, Viking, Medieval and Later. (Cen-tre for Manx Studies Monographs 2.) Pp. xv + 463, figs.115, pls. 51, tables 6, maps 2. Liverpool University Press,Liverpool 2002. $135.95. ISBN 0-85323-336-5 (cloth).

Gazda, Elaine K., ed. The Ancient Art of Emulation: Studiesin Artistic Originality and Tradition from the Present to Clas-

BOOKS RECEIVED 323

sical Antiquity. (MAAR Suppl. 1.) Pp. xiii + 300, figs. 125.University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor 2002. $65. ISBN0-472-11189-2 (cloth).

Gerner-Hansen, Cathrine. Carthage: Results of the SwedishExcavations 1979–1983. Vol. 1, A Roman Bath in Carthage.(SkrRom 4º, 54.I.) Pp. 130, b&w figs. 98, color figs. 2, b&wpls. 8. Svenska Institutet i Rom, Stockholm 2002. SEK400. ISSN 0081-993X; ISBN 91-7042-158-7 (paper).

Guidobaldi, Maria Paola. Corpus delle Stipi Votive in Italia.Vol. 15, Regio IV:1: I Materiali votivi della Grotta del Colle diRapino. (Archaeologica 134.) Pp. 79, fig. 1, pls. 10. GiorgioBretschneider Editore, Rome 2002. €80. ISSN 0391-9293;ISBN 88-7689-182- X (paper).

Haselgrove, C., I. Armit, T. Champion, J. Creighton, A.Gwilt, J.D. Hill, F. Hunter, and A. Woodward. Under-standing the British Iron Age: An Agenda for Action: A Reportfor the Iron Age Research Seminar and the Council of thePrehistoric Society. Pp. x + 42, figs. 29, tables 4. Trust forWessex Archaeology, Salisbury 2001. $4.50. ISBN 1-874350-37-X (paper).

Heinrich, Ernst. Der zweite Stil in pompejanischen Wohnhäusern.Pp. 159, figs. 152, color pls. 218. Biering and Brinkman,Munich 2002. €125. ISBN 3-930609-37-1 (cloth).

Heinrich, Hayo. Subtilitas novarum sculpturarum: Unter-suchungen sur Ornamentik marmorner Bauglieder der spätenRepublik und frühen Kaiserzeit in Campanien. Pp. 83, pls.160. Biering and Brinkman, Munich 2002. €98. ISBN 3-930609-22-3 (cloth).

Holliday, Peter J. The Origins of Roman Historical Com-memoration in the Visual Arts. Pp. xxv + 283, figs. 111.Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2002. $80. ISBN0-521-81013-2 (cloth).

Jashemski, Wilhelmina Feemster, and Frederick G.Meyer, eds. The Natural History of Pompeii. Pp. xxiii +502, b&w figs. 260, color figs. 124, tables 32, map 1.Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2002. $175. ISBN0-521-80054-4 (cloth).

Jones, Andrew, and Gavin MacGregor, eds. Colouringthe Past: The Significance of Colour in Archaeological Re-search. Pp. xv + 250, b&w figs. 34, color pls. 12, tables 12,maps 4. Berg, Oxford 2002. $22.50. ISBN 1-85973-547-9 (paper).

King, Thomas F. Thinking About Cultural Resource Manage-ment: Essays from the Edge. (Heritage Resource Manage-ment Series.) Pp. xix + 196. AltaMira, Walnut Creek,Calif. 2002. $22.95. ISBN 0-7591-0214-7 (paper).

Kunze, Christian. Zum Greifen nah: Stilphänomene in derhellenistischen Skulptur und ihre inhaltliche Interpretation.Pp. 279, pls. 104. Biering and Brinkman, Munich 2002.€115. ISBN 3-93069-36-3 (cloth).

Kunzi, Ernst. Medizinische Instrumente der römischen Kaiserzeitim Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseum. (Kataloge vor-undFrühgeschichtlicher Altertümer 28.) Pp. vii + 96, figs. 3,pls. 56, maps 5. Verlag des Römisch-GermanischenZentralmuseums, Mainz 2002. €50. ISSN 0076-275X;ISBN 3-88467-053-0 (cloth).

Lewis-Williams, J. David. A Cosmos in Stone: InterpretingReligion and Society through Rock Art. Pp. xvii + 309, figs.48, tables 4, map 1. AltaMira, Walnut Creek, Calif. 2002.$29.95. ISBN 0-7591-0196-5 (paper).

Lilli, Manlio. Ariccia: Carta archeologica. (Bibliotheca

Archaeologica 34.) Pp. 410, figs. 426. L’ERMA diBretschneider, Rome 2002. ISBN 88-8265-152-5 (cloth).

Magness, Jodi. The Archaeology of Qumran and the Dead SeaScrolls. Pp. xxxvi + 238, figs. 60. Eerdmans, Grand Rapids,Mich. 2002. $26. ISBN 0-8028-4589-4 (cloth).

Masson, Marilyn A., and David A. Freidel, eds. AncientMaya Political Economics. Pp. xi + 436, figs. 76, tables 3,maps 6. AltaMira, Walnut Creek, Calif. 2002. $34.95. ISBN0-7591-00881-0 (paper).

McLean, B.H. Regional Epigraphic Catalogues of Asia Minor.Vol. 4, Greek and Latin Inscriptions in the Konya Archaeologi-cal Museum. (British Institute of Archaeology at AnkaraMonograph 29.) Pp. xvi + 134, figs. 282. British Instituteof Archaeology at Ankara, London 2002. ISSN 0969-9007;ISBN 1-898249-14-8 (cloth).

McNally, Sheila. Shaping Community: The Art and Archaeol-ogy of Monasticism. (BAR-IS 941.) Pp. viii + 189, figs. 91,tables 4. Archeopress, Oxford 2001. £32. ISBN 1-84171-233-7 (paper).

Mees, Allard, and Barbara Pferdehirt, eds. RömerzeitlicheSchif fsfunde in der “Navis I”. (Kataloge Vor-undFrühgeschichtlicher Altertümer 29.) Pp. ix + 213, b&wfigs. 160, color figs. 224, tables 2. Verlag des Römisch-Germanischen Zentralmuseums, Mainz 2002. €39. ISSN0076-275X; ISBN 3-88467-063-8 (cloth).

Mercader, Julio, ed. Under the Canopy: The Archaeology ofTropical Rain Forests. Pp. vii + 322, figs. 73, tables 19, map1. Rutgers University Press, Piscataway, N.J. 2002. $60.ISBN 0-8135-3142-X (cloth).

Meritt, Lucy T. Shoe, and Ingrid E.M. Edlund-Berry.Etruscan and Republican Roman Mouldings. 2 vols. Rev. ed.Pp. xxxiii + 233, figs. 3, pls. 78. University Museum,University of Pennsylvania, with the American Academyin Rome, Philadelphia and Rome 2000, and distributedby the University of Texas Press, Austin 2000. $85. ISBN0-924171-77-4 (cloth).

Montgomery, John. How to Read Maya Hieroglyphs. Pp. xvi+ 360, figs. 321. Hippocrene, New York 2002. $24. ISBN0-7818-0861-8 (cloth).

Montgomery, John. Dictionary of Maya Hieroglyphs. Pp. viii+ 416. Hippocrene, New York 2002. $19.95. ISBN 0-7818-0862-6 (paper).

Morard, Thomas. Les Troyens à Metaponte. Pp. 122, figs. 5,pls. 22, tables 2. Philipp von Zabern, Mainz 2002. €23.ISBN 3-8053-2861-3 (cloth).

Nicolle, David. Companion to Medieval Arms and Armour.Pp. ix + 280, figs. 365. Boydell, Woodbridge 2002. $60.ISBN 0-85115-872-2 (cloth).

Nielsen, Thomas Heine, ed. Even More Studies in the An-cient Greek Polis. (Papers from the Cophenhagen PolisCentre 6, Historia Einzelschriften 162.) Pp. 294, figs.17, pl. 1, maps 3. Franz Steiner, Stuttgart 2002. €64.ISBN 3-515-08102-X (paper).

Pedley, John Griffiths. Greek Art and Archaeology. 3rd ed.Pp. 400, b&w figs. 369, color figs. 97, tables 2, maps 4.Prentice Hall, Upper Saddle River, N.J. 2002. ISBN 0-13-098111-7 (paper).

Procopiou, Hara, and Rene Treuil. Moudre et Broyer. Vol.2, Archéologie et Histoire. Pp. 238, b&w figs. 103, color figs.18, pls. 4, tables 4. CTHS, Paris 2002. €30. ISBN 2-7355-0505-7 (paper).

BOOKS RECEIVED324

Procopiou, Hara, and Rene Treuil. Moudre et Broyer. Vol.1, Méthodes. Pp. 235, b&w figs. 102, color figs. 7, b&w pls.22, color pls. 10, tables 4. CTHS, Paris 2002. €30. ISBN 2-7355-0502-2 (paper).

Rathje, Annette, Marjatta Nielson, and BodilBundgaard Rasmussen, eds. Pots for the Living, Pots forthe Dead. (Danish Studies in Classical Archaeology ACTA,Hyperborea 9.) Pp. 295, figs. 77, color pls. 27, tables 10,maps 2. Museum Tusculanum Press, University ofCopenhagen 2002. $51. ISSN 0904-2067. ISBN 87-72-89-712-0 (paper).

Restelli, Francesca Balossi. Formation Processes of the FirstDeveloped Neolithic Societies in the Zagros and the NorthernMesopotamian Plain. (Studi di Prestoria Orientale 1.) Pp.viii + 83, figs. 24, tables 13. Dipartimento di ScienzeStoriche, Archeologiche, Antropologiche dell’Antichità,Università di Roma La Sapienza, Rome 2001. ISBN 88-87320-12-8 (paper).

Ridgway, Brunilde Sismondo. Hellenistic Sculpture. Vol. 3,The Styles of Ca. 100–31 B.C. Pp. xxii + 312, figs. 30, pls.115. University of Wisconsin Press, Madison 2002. $45.ISBN 0-299-17710-6 (cloth).

Risch, Roberto (with Franciso Martinez Fernandez andJuan Francisco Gibaja Bao). Recursos naturales mediosde producción y exploitación social: Un analisis economico dela industria litica de Fuente Alamo (Almeria), 2250–1400antes de nuestra era. (Iberia Archaeologica 3.) Pp. x + 383,figs. 101, pls. 67, tables 13, CD-ROM 1. Philipp von Zabern,Mainz 2002. €45. ISBN 3-8053-2927-X (cloth).

Rizakis, A.D., and S. Zoumbaki (with M. Kantirea). Ro-man Peloponnese. Vol. 1, Roman Personal Names in TheirContext. (Meletemata 31.) Pp. 643, map 1. Research Cen-ter for Greek and Roman Antiquity, National HellenicResearch Foundation, Athens 2001. ISBN 960-7905-13-X (cloth).

Romano, James F. In the Fullness of Time: Masterpieces of Egyp-tian Art from American Collections. Pp. 94, b&w figs. 13,color figs. 63. Hallie Ford Museum of Art at WillametteUniversity, Salem, Oreg. 2002. $24.95. ISBN 1-930957-52-1 (cloth).

Runciman, W.G., ed. The Origin of Human Social Institu-tions. (Proceedings of the British Academy 110.) Pp. ix +259, figs. 11, tables 18, maps 4. Oxford University Press,Oxford 2001. $45. ISSN 0068-1202; ISBN 0-19-726250-3(cloth).

Setala, Paivi, Ria Berg, Riikka Halikka, MinervaKeltanen, Janne Polonen, and Ville Vuolanto.Women, Wealth, and Power in the Roman Empire.(ActInstRomFin 25.) Pp. 321, figs. 32, tables 12. InstitutumRomanum Finlandiae, Rome 2002. €41. ISSN 0538-2270.ISBN 952-5323-02-1 (paper).

Schmidt, Armin. Geophysical Data in Archaeology: A Guide toGood Practice. (Archaeology Data Service.) Pp. v + 81,tables 11. Oxbow, Oxford 1998. $20. ISSN 1463-5194.ISBN 1-900188-71-6 (paper).

Spencer, Patricia. Amara West. Vol. 2, The Cemetery and thePottery Corpus. (Egypt Exploration Society ExcavationMemoirs 69.) Pp. xii + 39, b&w pls. 57, color pls. 4. TheEgypt Exploration Society, London 2002. $30. ISBN 0-85698-150-8 (paper).

Sporn, Katja. Heiligtümer und Kulte Kretas in klassischer undhellenistischer Zeit. (Studien zu Antiken Heiligtümern 31.)Pp. 416, pls. 30, tables 19. Verlag Archäologie und

Geschichte, Heidelberg 2002. ISBN 3-935289-00-6 (cloth).Stone, Richard. Mammoth: The Resurrection of an Ice Age

Giant. Pp. xii + 242, figs. 17. Perseus, Cambridge, Mass.2002. $15. ISBN 0-7382-0775-6 (paper).

Thompson, Thomas L. The Historicity of the Patriarchal Nar-ratives: The Quest for the Historical Abraham. Pp. 392. Trin-ity International, Harrisburg, Pa. 2002. $28. ISBN 1-56338-389-6 (paper).

Torrence, Robin, and John Grattan, eds. Natural Disas-ters and Cultural Change. (One World Archaeology 45.)Pp. xv + 35, figs. 100, tables 6, maps 2. Routledge, Lon-don 2002. $135. ISBN 0-415-21696-6 (cloth).

Touloupa, Evi. The Sculptures from the West Pediment of theTemple of Apollo Daphnephoros at Eretria. (ArchaeologicalSociety at Athens 220.) Pp. 96, figs. 2, pls. 207, map 1.Archaeological Society at Athens, Athens 2002. ISSN1105-7785; ISBN 960-8145-31-7 (paper).

Van Andringa, William. La Religion en Gaule romaine: Piétéet politique (I er–III e siecle apr. J.-C.). (Collection desHesperides.) Pp. 335, figs. 100, tables 6, maps 2. EditionsErrance, Paris 2002. €29; FF 190.23. ISBN 2-87772-228-7 (paper).

Veit, Richard. Digging New Jersey’s Past: Historical Archaeol-ogy in the Garden State. Pp. xviii + 220, figs. 56, maps 2.Rutgers University Press, New Brunswick, N.J. 2002. $22.ISBN 0-8135-3113-6 (paper).

Venit, Marjorie Susan. Monumental Tombs of Ancient Alex-andria: Theater of the Dead. Pp. xv + 267, figs. 160, pls. 10.Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2002. $80. ISBN0-521-80659-3 (cloth).

Wawn, Andrew, and Porunn Sigurdardottir, eds. Ap-proaches to Vinland: A Conference on the Written and Ar-chaeological Sources for the Norse Settlements in the North-Atlantic Region and Exploration of America. Pp. 238, figs.14, tables 4, maps 2. Sigurdur Nordal Institute and DavidBrown, Reykjavik and Oakville, Conn. 2001. $42. ISBN9979-9111-4-F (paper).

Wells, Berit, ed. New Research on Old Material from Asineand Berbati: In Celebration of the Fiftieth Anniversary of theSwedish Institute at Athens. (SkrAth 8º, 17.) Pp. 155, figs.124, tables 2. Svenska Institutet i Athen, Stockholm 2002.$35. ISSN 0081-9921; ISBN 91-7916-043-3 (paper).

White, Max E. The Archaeology and History of the NativeGeorgia Tribes. Pp. x + 149, figs. 55, maps 5. UniversityPress of Florida, Gainesville 2002. $55. ISBN 0-8130-2576-1 (cloth).

Winckelmann, Johann Joachim. Breife, Entwurfe undBezensionen zu den herculanischen Schriften. (HerculanischeSchriften 3.) Pp. xii + 372, pls. 11. Phillip von Zabern,Mainz 2001. DM 128. ISBN 3-8053-2031-0 (cloth).

Winckelmann, Johann Joachim. Schriften zur antikenBaukunst. (Schriften und Nachlaß.) Pp. xl + 332, figs. 4,pls. 32. Phillip von Zabern, Mainz 2001. DM 148. ISBN 3-8053-2719-6 (cloth).

Woodward, Ann, and J.D. Hill, eds. Prehistoric Britain:The Ceramic Basis. (Prehistoric Ceramics Research GroupOccasional Publication 3.) Pp. iv + 195, figs. 50, tables 7,map 1. Oxbow, Oxford 2002. $50. ISBN 1-84217-071-6(paper).

Wylie, Alison. Thinking from Things: Essays in the Philoso-phy of Archaeology. Pp. xviii + 139. University of Califor-nia Press, Berkeley 2002. $39.95. ISBN 0-520-22361-6(paper).

THE SOCIETY FOR THEAMERICAN JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

The Society for the American Journal of Archaeology was founded in the autumn of1989 in order to expand the size and scope of the Archaeological Institute of America’sofficial journal, to make possible the publication within a year of their submissionof all articles accepted by the editors, and to build AJA’s endowment to insure the futurefinancial health of the journal.

Contributions to the Society are welcome in any amount and are tax-deductibleaccording to law. Members contribute $25, Supporters $50, and Donors $100.Contributors of $250 or more (Contributors, $250; Sponsors, $500) are listed on theinside back cover of the next four quarterly issues of AJA, and donors of $1000 ormore (Friends, $1000; Patrons, $2500; Benefactors, $5000) receive in addition allthe benefits of Friends of the Archaeological Institute of America.

Individuals and institutions wishing to join the Society for the American Journalof Archaeology should send their checks, payable to Archaeological Institute ofAmerica and designated for the Society for the AJA, to American Journal of Archaeology,Archaeological Institute of America, located at Boston University, 656 BeaconStreet, Boston, Massachusetts 02215-2006 (tel. 617-353-9364, fax 617-353-6550,email [email protected]).

Publication of the 2003 volume of the American Journal of Archaeology has been madepossible in part by the generosity of an anonymous benefactor and the members of

THE SOCIETY FOR THE AMERICAN JOURNAL OF ARCHAEOLOGY

BENEFACTORS

Boston University University of Dayton

PATRONS

Carnegie Corporation Fund Crawford H. Greenewalt, jrJeannette U.S. Nolen

FRIENDS

Milton and Sally AveryArts Foundation

Lloyd E. Cotsen

Joukowsky FamilyFoundation

Ellen L. KohlerMo Pasha

SPONSORS

Elie M. Abemayor andJudy Shandling

Ray B. and Jean AuelElizabeth Bartman and

Andrew P. SolomonMarshall Joseph BeckerEugene N. Borza and

Kathleen A. PavelkoBryn Mawr CollegeWilliam M. Calder, IIIJoseph C. Carter, Jr.Colgate UniversityLucinda Dickinson

CongerDartmouth CollegeSusan B. DowneyUniversity of GeorgiaIra Haupt, IIUniversity of Illinois

LibraryInstitute for Aegean

Prehistory

Emmett L. Bennett, Jr.Leslie HackensonHarvard University

James H. Ottaway, Jr.University of PennsylvaniaLeonard V. Quigley

Robert W. and Joanna Seibert

CONTRIBUTORS

New York UniversityJessamyn D. MillerThe Ohio State UniversityUniversity of PittsburghPrinceton UniversityRhode Island School of

Design Museum of ArtWilliam H. RichmanJacob Ringle, Jr.C. Brian RoseYvonne Korshak RubenJeremy B. RutterJane Ayer ScottUniversity of St. ThomasSmith CollegeStanford UniversityToledo Museum of ArtTulane UniversityVassar CollegeCornelius C. Vermeule, IIIWellesley CollegeYale University