Animus Classics Journal: Vol. 2, Issue 2
Animus is the undergraduate Classics journal from the University of Chicago. This is the third edition of Animus, published in Spring 2022.
Animus is the undergraduate Classics journal from the University of Chicago. This is the third edition of Animus, published in Spring 2022.
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ANIMUS
CLASSICS
JOURNAL
Spring 2022
Volume 2
No. 2
University of
Chicago
Cover art by E.G. Keisling
Funded in part by the University of Chicago Student Government
ANIMUS
THE UNDERGRADUATE
CLASSICS JOURNAL
of the
UNIVERSITY OF
CHICAGO
VOLUME II
NO. II
LAPSA 10
by
Izzy Friesen
CANOVA’S BUST OF PARIS: THE
VISUAL AND PSYCHIC EXTEN-
SION 12
by
Wenke (Coco) Huang
A BRIEF INTERVIEW WITH A HID-
EOUS MAN 22
by
Hussein Alkadhim
AVES GRAVES 28
by
Blue Smiley
ETRUSCAN NUMISMATICS: THE
UNIQUE DEVELOPMENT OF
COINAGE IN DIFFERENT CITY-
STATES 30
by
Rina Rossi
4
Table of Contents
DE RERUM NATURA V 1194 - 1210 50
by
Peyton Bullock
ODE TO LOVE (FROM SOPHO-
CLES' ANTIGONE) 54
by
Gabriela Garcia
THE TYRIANS IN PUTEOLI, 79-96
CE: A NEW EDITION AND INTER-
PRETATION OF OGIS II 594 56
by
Grace DeAngelis
LUCTUS SONITUS 90
by
Elizabeth Hadley
THE WORSHIP OF HELEN OF
TROY IN LACONIA 92
by
Autumn Greene
THE MAENAD 112
by
Emilie James
Table of Contents 5
6
STAFF
Editors-In-Chief
Don Harmon & Natalie Nitsch
Managing Editor
Sarah Ware
CREATIVE
ACADEMIC
TRANSLATION
Section Editor
Madeleine Moore
Section Editor
Hannah Halpern
Section Editor
Alexander Urquhart
Assistant Section Editor
Gabriel Clisham
Assistant Section Editors
Josephine Dawson
Ken Johnson
Daniel Mark-Welch
Assistant Section Editor
Victor Tyne
Secretary
Gibson Morris
Blog Editor
Lucy Nye
Design Editor
Jacob Keisling
Assistant Blog Editor
Daniel Mark-Welch
7
REVIEWERS
PEER REVIEWERS
Chloe Bartholomew
Katarina Birimac
Jacob Botaish
Erin Choi
Isabella Cisneros
Gabriel Clisham
JD Collins
Josephine Dawson
Ziyu Feng
Holden Fraser
Harry Gardner
Hannah Halpern
Don Harmon
Gwendolyn Jacobson
Anjali Jain
Ken Johnson
Jacob Keisling
Shannon Kim
Shane Kim
Alex Lapuente
Asaf Lebovic
Kendrick Lee
Caitlin Lozada
Daniel Mark-Welch
Avery Metzcar
Aashna Moorjani
Gibson Morris
Natalie Nitsch
Lars Nordquist
Lucy Nye
Sophia Ozaki Kottman
Shama Tirukkala
Matthew Turner
Victor Tyne
Alexander Urquhart
Anushree Vashist
Sarah Ware
Katherine Weaver
COPY EDITORS
Chloe Bartholomew
Erin Choi
Benjamin Huffman
Gwendolyn Jacobson
Anjali Jain
Alex Lapuente
Avery Metzcar
Katherine Weaver
8
Letter
from the
Editors
As we close the final InDesign file of the second volume of Animus, we
can’t help but reflect that this has been a year of firsts for the journal and our
staff.
This is the first Animus volume to have not one but two issues, which would
never have been possible without the continued enthusiasm of our peer reviewers
and copy editors (and, of course, our wonderful contributors!). We also
relied on the newly created position of Assistant Section Editors, who made
the review process immeasurably easier. We thank all of our staff for their
dedication and care throughout the fall and spring cycles, especially our assistants,
who have made themselves indispensable. Amidst our redoubled efforts
on the journal, we also launched our blog publications in earnest, due largely
to the proactive work of Lucy Nye and Daniel Mark-Welch. Over this year, we’ve
published over a half-dozen works on subjects ranging from Tolkien to Tutankhamun;
we look forward to publishing many more.
As this year comes to an end, we also look forward to the first implementation
of the comprehensive bylaws drafted this spring, which solidify this year’s
firsts into consistent practices to ensure continuity. The effort of our bylaws
9
subcommittee, especially of Gibson Morris and Josephine Dawson, deserves
to be commended.
Once again, we would like to thank the entire Classics Department for
their support, particularly Kathy Fox and Professors Jonah Radding and David
Wray for their advice and assistance. We would also like to thank UChicago’s
Student Government Committee, without whose funding this issue would not
have been possible.
To our outgoing Board members and staff, we thank you for your exceptional
dedication and attentive efforts, and most of all for being our friends.
What would this year have been without the impeccable sartorial tastes of
Madeleine and Gibson, Hannah’s enthusiastic devotion to the Chicago Manual
of Style, and Jacob’s penchant for gavelling in Board meetings that only he
knew about (at which he still took exemplary minutes)? To our incoming and
continuing Board members, we look forward to what you will bring to Animus.
This year has been wonderful; we have no doubt that next year will be even
better.
The thorough concern for the future (which only very occasionally tended
towards the hairsplitting) that defined everything our Editor-in-Chief Don
Harmon has contributed to Animus since its inception will be sorely missed,
not in the least by his co-Editor-in-Chief. We are excited to welcome Sarah
Ware, who is joining Natalie Nitsch in the co-Editor-in-Chief position for the
coming academic year. Sarah’s current role of Managing Editor will be filled by
Daniel Mark-Welch. Don wishes the new Board the best of luck, and is confident
he is leaving Animus in good hands.
Thank you all again, and enjoy the issue.
Warmly,
Don Harmon and Natalie Nitsch, co-Editors-in-Chief
10 Izzy Friesen
lapsa
Izzy Friesen / Victoria University at the University of Toronto
(a poem about Deiopea, as mentioned in the Aeneid, I.70-75)
small and scared, stark half naked in Juno’s train
(Eurus, quite the prankster, tugging her cloak into scraps)
Deiopea shivers barely clothed in her Greek name
an uncomfortably polysyllabic promise sealing a marriage covenant
fated before she was born
before she knew her brideprice to be paid in Trojan blood
(her brow is furrowed, beautifully confused
like waves crashing primeval in the stormy deep)
had she not played with Cupid, spinning his prized baubles for him?
shimmery simulacra of the planets skittered across gilded floors
coaxing yet another uneasy peace between Juno and Venus
(forgotten after one afternoon, yet for a moment they laughed together
lovelight blurred away the tragedies of gods and men)
had she not spent hours climbing the oldest paths up Olympus?
slicing her feet with adamantine shards from another time
oozing amber blood
yet always forethinking, holding
Juno’s purplish mantle high
away from the grit of the earth
not remembering to stumble
not knowing any word for falling
she had been perfect, immortal, pia
she looked up into her goddess’ fire-gaze, desperate
it felt so wrong to be
lapsa
11
a grownup girl
a quivering nymph
an inhuman woman
a lifetime to be spent
locked up in Aeolus’ cave of blustering and boasting
clothed in cold winds pressing around her icicled shoulder
snaking inside and numbing every part of her
frostbiting her best flowers
yellow blossoms from home wilt in her plaits
every next day she leans over icy pools in his cave
to braid her hair in six parts for marriage
for self-sacrifice
staring half-defiantly at the water outside
droplets dashing down in impossible rainstorms
impossible for the bravest Trojan oarsman to beat back
without slipping and floundering green-faced
instantly forgotten among greener waves
she hears that Aeneas somewhere
(bracing weak hands
against the weight of the tumbling world)
his heartbroken sobs could rend the Sea in two
if only someone had taught her to cry
if only the fates might care to listen
if only she knew the word for falling apart
(if only Aeolus was a deeper sleeper)
Deiopea would have joined his screaming
12 Wenke (Coco) Huang
CANOVA’S BUST OF PARIS:
THE VISUAL AND PSYCHIC
EXTENSION
Wenke (Coco) Huang
Northwestern University
Gallery 218 of the Art Institute of Chicago hosts a grandiose collection
of neoclassical artworks from the late 18th to early 19th-century
Europe, which encompasses a variety of artistic genres and media.
Grand-size paintings, porcelain ornaments, carved reliefs, and sculptures
present epic stories in classical literature, allegorical figures from
Greco-Roman myths, and solemn landscapes of ancient ruins. As the
endmost room at the western tip of the museum’s “Painting and Sculpture
of Europe Before 1900” section, an atmosphere of permanent and
ceremonial antiquity permeates the space, insulating the viewers from
the tremendous social, cultural, and political turmoil of early modern
Europe embedded in the other galleries. Within this insulated domain
of classical heritage stands the Bust of Paris, an 1809 white marble sculpture
by Antonio Canova, an Italian artist widely acclaimed across Europe
at the time. Formally extracted from the full-length statue Paris, which
Canova finished in 1812 under the commission of Empress Josephine of
France, the bust was a gift from the sculptor to his life-long friend, the
prominent French neoclassical theorist and critic Antoine Quatremère
de Quincy. 1 It depicts the moment in Greek mythology of shepherd Paris
turning to gaze at the three goddesses Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite,
tasked by Zeus to judge who is the most beautiful. The harmonious coexistence
of noble simplicity, tender sensitivity, and lush abundance in
the Bust of Paris reflects Canova’s artistic mastery to mold an neoclassi-
1 Wardropper and Rowlands, “Antonio Canova and Quatremère de Quincy,” 40.
CANOVA'S BUST OF PARIS
13
cal ideal. More intriguingly, to the right of the bust hangs a portrait of
Paris by German painter Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein painted
in about 1787. Although the painted Paris has his female partner Helen
on the other side, the sculpture-painting correspondence supersedes
the original pairing of the dual portraits. The two Parises, despite their
different media, form an intricate symmetry, looking in opposite directions
but wearing the same Phrygian-style caps and appearing roughly
the same size. This visual and thematic mirroring of the two artworks
arguably implies a conscious curatorial intention to reveal additional
context of Canova’s sculptural practice and surface treatment, the homoerotic
connotation in neoclassical art from Greco-Roman traditions,
and the artist’s close relationship with Quatremère de Quincy in an exclusively
male circle of artistic intellects.
So much of the nuanced analysis of the Bust of Paris roots in its formal
richness. Upon his contemplation of the received gift, Quatremère
de Quincy praised the sculpture in his 1811 letter to Canova as “a mixture
of the heroic and the voluptuous, the noble and the amorous,” one that
“combined such life, softness, and chaste purity” and exceeded all previous
work of the sculptor. 2 Indeed, in its depiction of the youth turning
aside to judge the three goddesses, the Bust of Paris crystalizes the ideal
beauty in Greek mythology. The straight nose bridge, chiseled cheek,
thin lips, and curved jaw of the youth, all carved out in white marble
and aligned with classical aesthetics, display a simple nobility purged
of any earthly indignity. Rather than being tempted by the beauty of
the goddesses, the slightly downward gaze of Paris extends into a distant
and idyllic landscape, conveying a pastoral serenity. This dreamlike
tranquility harmonizes with the exuberant abundance in the dangly
mass of his curly locks, the rounded shape of the Phrygian cap, and the
full volume of his bare neck and chest. The smooth parabolic curvatures
of his hat, hair, jaw, and truncated chest visually enhance one another,
2 Wardropper and Rowlands, 41.
14 Wenke (Coco) Huang
creating a soothing formal unity. An air of peace and prosperity completely
shields the shepherd boy from the bloodshed of the Trojan War
ensuing from his decision. Unaware of the grave consequence and his
doomed future, Canova’s bust shows Paris submerged in a permanent
grace, corresponding to the artist’s own absorption in the grandeur
of classical allegory, the sumptuousness of ideal youth, and the art of
marble sculpture, detached from the contemporary political and social
upheavals of the Revolution and the Napoleonic War in the neighboring
country of France that had agitated the entire European continent.
The Bust of Paris thus embodies Canova’s obsession with the marble
sculpture, which manifests in not only the exquisite shapes of his figures,
but also their distinguished exterior surface. Numerous art critics
and historians have remarked on Canova’s fixation on the marble surface
to achieve verisimilitude of various textures and materials, most
notably human flesh. Attuned to the complexity of white European
skin tones, he developed a unique process of waxing that softened the
harshness and whiteness of the Carrara marble, emulated the multilayered
undertones of the corporeal body, and imbued his figures with a
vibrant liveliness. 3 Even more radical and controversial, as his contemporary
artist and collector Leopoldo Cicognara documented, was Canova’s
coloration of the sculpture, a practice historically sanctioned by the
polychromic remains of Greco-Roman sculptures. 4 In addition to gilded
metal ornaments, Canova reportedly applied red pigments to the lips
and cheeks of his sculpture that triggered unfavorable outcries across
the European art world. 5 However, the Bust of Paris displays no trace of
such surface coating: the Carrara marble used by the artist has a particular
characteristic of showing black flaws once worked, 6 and most con-
3 David Bindman, “The Colour of Sculpture,” 126.
4 Bindman, 125.
5 Bindman, 126.
6 Bindman, 127.
CANOVA'S BUST OF PARIS
15
spicuously, a black spot stains the right eyebrow of Paris and exposes
the inevitable imperfection of the material. More detailed examination
reveals several blemishes on his curls, which verify Canova’s account in
his 1810 letter to Quatremère de Quincy that the bust “has the same natural
color” of the original block of marble, although he also states that
it “perhaps will seem to have been waxed.” 7 The sculptor asked the critic
for his candid opinion on this untreated piece of work, which was not
simply a preparatory study or a duplicated segment of the full-length
statue Paris, but rather had its own independent merit. The critic, upon
comparing the two works, validated the artistic autonomy of the bust
from the statue in Empress Josephine’s collection, emphasizing its
“deliberate and entirely new finish” and different executions of facial
details that, free from the compositional concerns of the statue, fully
pronounced and magnified the nuanced sensitivity of the allegorical
youth. 8 Back to the present day, the Bust of Paris in the gallery is asking
for the viewers’ opinion. As a bare-bones sample of Canova’s sculptural
heads, it provides a piece of expository evidence and deepens our understanding
of the artist’s dexterous carvings.
Nevertheless, Canova’s coloration practice and relentless pursuit of
a lifelike quality shrewdly linger in the gallery when the viewers glance
at the right of the bust and discover a painted and colored Paris almost
horizontally reflected from the sculpture. Formally, the 1787 portrait
by Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein shows Paris in profile looking
softly to his left, the opposite direction from Canova’s sculpture. The
painted figure wears the same style of Phrygian cap, underneath which
thick locks of blond curls glisten. His facial features demonstrate the
same idealized beauty of Greek youth as the sculpture, and a red cloak
with delicate golden embroidery on the edges covers and outlines his
7 Wardropper and Rowlands, 41.
8 Antoine Quatremère de Quincy, Canova et ses ouvrages ou mémoires historiques sur la vie
et les travaux de ce célèbre artiste (Paris, 1834), p. 175 and n. 1, excerpted in Wardropper and
Rowlands, 42.
16 Wenke (Coco) Huang
sturdy body, revealing only a bare neck. Warm and sanguine colors saturate
the painting: the yellow hat and red garment enhance his healthy
suntanned skin tone, his slightly parted lips appear soft and tender in
an alluring red tint, and his cheek, too, is suffused with cheerful red,
blushing, blooming, and beaming with ebullient energy. The insulated
air of prosperous permanence, ideal youthfulness, and lively exuberance
surrounding Canova’s bust finds its immediate resonance on the
painted canvas. More conspicuously, the installation stool elevates the
Bust of Paris to the same height as the portrait on the wall, so that the two
heads, both slightly larger than life, come to the same horizontal plane.
The symmetry and balance enable them to complement and illustrate
each other: as the viewers observe the sculpture from different angles
and examine the painting of its intricate colors, they are looking at the
double manifestation of the same allegorical figure. The dimensionality
and volumetric clarity of the bust liberate Paris from the vertical viewing
frame, while the florid face of the portrait pays tribute to the pigments
Canova audaciously applied to his other sculptural figures.
On the other hand, the pairing invites further consideration of its
psychological effect on the viewers, echoing Canova’s particular mode
of production and the unique viewing experience of antique sculptures
in his time. Since the 16th century, artists have been illuminating
models by candlelight in their studios to control the effects of light and
shadow, a practice that developed into regular nocturnal drawing sessions
in the art academies of late 18th-century Europe. 9 Canova’s travel
diary records his frequent participation in such nighttime workshops
at the academy of Campidoglio in Rome, Italy, from 1779 to 1780. 10 As
the use of torchlight in the darkness, which required close study of the
illuminated objects, enhanced painters’ perception of the dramatic
chiaroscuro on canvas, this production method not only created a sense
9 Mattos, “The Torchlight Visit,” 146.
10 Mattos, 146.
CANOVA'S BUST OF PARIS
17
of corporeal intimacy between the sculptor and his figure, but also corresponded
to the peculiar way of viewing sculptures by torchlight at
night in the late 18th to early 19th-century museums. 11 In fact, when the
5th century BCE Elgin marbles were revealed in 1808 London, classical
antiquity’s metaphysical presence in the museum greatly amazed the
artist. 12 His contemporary, British painter Benjamin Robert Haydon,
elaborated on the viewing experience, in which
the surface of the classical sculptural object [was] both intensely absorptive,
and at the same time [floated] free of the limited object-ness of the sculptural
body by way projections that [were] at once literal (due to the effect of candlelight)
and psychic, that [were] imbued with fantasy. (Padiyar, 128)
This sense of free-floating omnipresence suggests a particular surface
effect of the ancient marble sculptures that liberated their spirits from
the concrete materiality under torchlight, one that Canova endeavored
to emulate. In fact, in the Pio Clementino Museum in Vatican City, built
after the defeat of Napoleon with the diplomatic effort of Canova to repatriate
Greco-Roman archaeological findings, a cabinet indeed hosted
his works under torchlight among the ancient heritages, bestowing on
the artist incomparable recognition in his time. 13 Despite the impossibility
of illuminating the sculpture with torchlight in the Chicago Art
Institute, the pairing of the Bust of Paris and Tischbein’s portrait presents
a visual extension of the figure, which implies the psychic expansion
of Canova’s pervasive surface crawling from the sculptural object
to the painting on the wall and further merging into the neoclassical
grandeur of the entire gallery.
Under this circumstance, one can hardly register the presence of
Helen on the other side of Paris. The ingenious symmetry between the
11 Mattos, 146.
12 Padiyar, “Subject and Surface,” 128.
13 Mattos, 148.
18 Wenke (Coco) Huang
two idealized and idolized youth engages them in an aesthetic and
ideological conversation, which potently disrupts and segregates the
original pairing of Paris and Helen in Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein’s
dual portraits. Comparatively, the timid and docile Helen appears
visually smaller than the male figures, and silently withdraws into the
periphery. The heroine of countless tales and legends thus recedes to a
secondary position in the spatial configuration, and consequently the
representational hierarchy of the gallery. The heterosexual partnership
gives place to an almost narcissistic self-reflection of the male allegorical
figure. Indeed, at the moment Canova’s sculpture captures, Paris
himself suffices to represent ideal beauty in the absence of the three
goddesses, and his gaze seems more introspective than observant in his
decision-making. This formal and ideological gender monopoly reflects
the increasing masculinization in the expression of desired human virtues
and corporeal beauty in late 18th and early 19th-century Europe,
and it further reveals the exclusive relationship between Canova and
Quatremère de Quincy in an equally gender-biased art circle at the
time. 14 This representation of Paris, an allegorical “connoisseur of beauty,”
was especially suitable as a gift from the sculptor to the art critic,
both of whom were highly influential in the European art world. 15 While
the former was the supervisor of the Greco-Roman sculptures at the
Vatican from 1815 to 1822, the latter served as the permanent secretary
of the French Académie des Beaux-Arts from 1816 to 1839; the sculptural
masterpiece of the former enjoyed immense popularity across Europe,
and the archeological and theoretical writings of the latter exerted great
influence on the neoclassical art discourse. 16
In his 1995 book Emulation, American art historian Thomas Crow
explores the intellectual and emotional dynamics among French neo-
14 Crow, “Introduction,” 1.
15 Wardropper and Rowlands, 40.
16 Wardropper and Rowlands, 44.
CANOVA'S BUST OF PARIS
19
classical painters at the end of the 18th century, placing the pattern of
their exclusively male sociality in a “moral, intellectual, and erotic utopia.”
17 It is arguable that Canova and Quatremère de Quincy, through
their close literary correspondence, navigated the same domain. With
an entire workshop to execute carvings and make copies of his works,
Canova rarely handled the marble himself; however, written testimony
and inscriptions validate the Bust of Paris as a hand-carved piece by
the artist for his friend, marking the special statues of both the artwork
and the receiver. 18 The intellectual dialogue between Canova and
Quatremère de Quincy continued for four decades, from 1783 until the
death of the sculptor in 1822, during which period the critic became
not only a kindred friend who shared the same fascination of the Elgin
marble, but also an inspirational mentor who guided Canova to develop
his distinct “sweetness and tenderness of expression,” 19 a steadfast advocate
who promoted the artist’s works in France and defended them
against conservative controversies, and a fierce comrade who joined the
artist’s effort for the repatriation of plundered artworks from the Napoleon
Empire back to the papacy. 20 Both men remained single and devoted
themselves to the neoclassical arts; 21 or, from a gender-conscious
perspective, to the magnificent cultural patrimony of ancient Greece,
to the classical traditions in which homoeroticism was immanent, and
to the physical and moral virtues embodied entirely in the idealized
male. The Bust of Paris depicts exactly such an allegorical youth, a token
of the intellectual and spiritual companionship between Canova and
Quatremère de Quincy. Its symmetrical match with the portrait Paris,
divorcing the latter from his female partner, strongly indicates the male
17 Crow, 2.
18 Wardropper and Rowlands, 43.
19 Gerard Hubert, "Early Neo-classical Sculpture in France and Italy," trans. P.S. Falla, in
London, Arts Council of Great Britain, The Age of Neo-classicism (London, 1972), excerpted in
Wardropper and Rowlands, 45.
20 Wardropper and Rowlands, 45-46.
21 Wardropper and Rowlands, 45.
20 Wenke (Coco) Huang
monopoly of neoclassical ideology and aesthetic expression.
In summation, the formal intricacy of the Bust of Paris illuminates
the ideal neoclassical beauty based on classical Greco-Roman aesthetics,
and reflects Canova’s distinguished virtuosity as one of the most
prominent sculptors in the late 18th to early 19th-century Europe. Its
curatorial placement next to the painted portrait Paris provides further
context of the artist’s controversial treatments of the sculptural surface,
particular mode of production under torchlight, personal experience of
viewing the Elgin marbles, and intimate friendship with Quatremère
de Quincy, for whom the white marble sculpture was intended as a
gift. This intentional spatial arrangement enhances the idealized bust’s
psychic effect on the viewers, and reveals nuances in Canova’s artistic
practices and his gender framework. Above all, it disturbs the surface
permanence of the gallery immersed in the neoclassical grandeur of
pompous artworks, and reveals the artist’s relentless pursuit and tenacious
desire for classical ideals.
CANOVA'S BUST OF PARIS
21
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Bindman, David. “The Colour of Sculpture: Ancient and Modern.” In
Warm Flesh, Cold Marble: Canova, Thorvaldsen and Their Critics, 119-146.
New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2014.
Crow, Thomas E. “Introduction.” In Emulation: David, Drouais, and Girodet
in the Art of Revolutionary France, 1-2. Revised ed. New Haven, CT:
Yale University Press, in association with Los Angeles, CA: the Getty
Research Institute, 2006.
Mattos, Claudia. “The Torchlight Visit: Guiding the Eye through Late
Eighteenth- and Early Nineteenth-Century Antique Sculpture Galleries.”
RES: Anthropology and Aesthetics, no. 49/50 (2006): 139–50.
http://www.jstor.org/stable/20167698.
Padiyar, Satish. “Subject and Surface: Canova and the Reinvention
of Classical Sculpture.” In Chains : David, Canova, and the Fall of the
Public Hero in Postrevolutionary France, 118-142. University Park, PA:
Pennsylvania State University Press, 2007.
Wardropper, Ian, and Thomas F. Rowlands. “Antonio Canova and
Quatremère de Quincy: The Gift of Friendship.” Art Institute of Chicago
Museum Studies 15, no. 1 (1989): 39–86. https://www.jstor.org/
stable/4108796.
22
A BRIEF
INTERVIEW
WITH A
a brief
HIDEOUS interview MAN
with a
hideous man
Hussein Alkadhim
University of Michigan
B.I. #?
DATE: N/A
LOCATION: Medea, ll. 522-575.
JASON.
Q.
JASON.
Q.
JASON.
Yeah, so there was this long pause where I
just looked at her. I had to affect an untroubled
appearance.
Okay, yes, I was stalling because I needed
a moment to think of a response, so that I
wouldn’t end up being less rhetorically imposing
than her, you know? A true man must
always have his words ready, so I needed a
moment to think, believe me. And I stung her
back good with this one.
Before I tell you, I need you to remember
that she was the one who killed the two
children and ran away in the end. I did
nothing wrong.
Alright, I couldn’t help but start with a
very neat seafaring metaphor, an poetic inclination
found among my people—and no, not
just to rub in the fact of her foreignness
into her face. I need some style, you see,
some flourish; and, of course, to mesmerize
and show my superior rhetorical-ness,
because after all, her claims are totally
groundless. She’s simply a prattling woman
who needs to be taught how it’s done. Especially
since she’s insane, feral. I brought
her in from outside, so what did I expect?
Unfortunate that I am.
Q.
JASON.
I told her how self-indulgent and -centered
she was, to always feel the need to remind
me about how she gave everything from herself
to me, about all the sacrifices and
pains she undertook for my sake.
No, of course not. Let me make it clear
again, in case I didn’t before, that she
loves to talk, especially about herself. She
A Brief Interview with a Hideous Man
23
just loves herself too much. I know how she
is, believe me.
Q.
JASON.
Q.
JASON.
If I had to really choose, it was fate, God,
gods, whatever—you name it—which had always
served my purposes in life. I’m a true believer
in fate. After all, it wasn’t she
who was really there for me. She never truly
loved me. It’s all fate — she just happened
to be swept by the ineluctable arrows
of, say, Eros. That’s what explains her socalled
“sacrificial love.” In other words,
it’s fate, not her actual will, so how am I
meant to appreciate that she did everything
for me (if it’s even true in the first place)
and that she really had love for me and all
that? But, modest that I was, I didn’t put
too fine a point on this. But did she, way before
everything went down, provide at least
one benefit to my life at some time? Perhaps.
Damn it, that’s the thing: why does it always
have to be about her? What about me? I gave
her so much more in life. I saved her. If it
wasn’t for me showing up and taking her back
with me, she wouldn’t have ever lived here,
with us, in this place where laws, constitutions,
justice, et cetera, like, actually
exist as opposed to her wildly distant place
of origin, where I’m sure you know that
force and aggression and brutality have free
reign. Not to mention how she cuts this,
like, magical and alluring figure to everyone
over here. She has this fame and of course
nowhere else in the world would she have
crossed such an exquisite prospect. Nothing
is more important than this. Nothing. To
live a life worthy of fame and glory. (And
I sure deserve it and I know I will finally
get it one day.) Anyway, I think I proved my
point well to her: she has all this because
of me. I definitely got her with this one.
You should’ve seen her face.
24 A Brief Interview with a Hideous Man
Q.
JASON.
Q.
JASON.
Q.
JASON.
Right, so there I was, doing so well—my tone
was candid, my style wasn’t too over the
top, and most importantly, my words were
quaint and honest—and evoking my own pains
and toils (remember she started the who-hasit-worse
contest first) and trying to explain
to her that there was no point in her being
mad because she can trust my discretion and
sensibility because I was doing all this
for—
No, no, c’mon. Don’t put it like that. I
didn’t just go off and marry someone else –
who, sure, was younger and much more beautiful—without
her knowing. Like I said to her
at the time, before she went batshit crazy,
I had it all figured out. She wouldn’t even
listen and tried to interrupt—can you believe
the impudence? I had to raise my voice
and remind her that this marriage would be
the best thing to happen for us, for her,
ever since we got kicked out of my dad’s
house. She refused to understand that it had
nothing to do with sex. I swear, she’s so
insecure sometimes.
It’s about profit. Economics, gain, you name
it. The young maiden’s dad is (well, was)
like super fucking rich and powerful. Why
wouldn’t I take the chance to snatch this
young girl up? With her, I imagined that I
—I mean my children, of course—would live
wealthy and never be in need, because I
knew that the world would abandon us if we
didn’t have wealth, power, and the possible
fame that comes with these things (see,
it all ties together). I wished to raise
the children in a manner befitting my vision,
and hey, maybe to create several more
children to seal the two families together
so that we’d all become one big, happy family.
Besides, it’s not like she actually
A Brief Interview with a Hideous Man
25
cares about the children, like I do, because
she would’ve supported me and realized that
my vision would’ve served their interests.
Nothing bad would’ve happened down the road.
No way. Remember my point about our society?
That’s all I said to her, at least for the
time being. So where did I think wrong? I
looked straight at her, in the eye, and saw
she was simply jealous. I sighed and thought
what it shame it was that women have now
come to such a point… Don’t you sometimes
wish there had been some other method of
procreation? That way, people wouldn’t have
to go through stuff like this, people like
me for example…
26 A Brief Interview with a Hideous Man
TRANSLATOR’S NOTE
This piece is a creative translation of Jason's
retort to Medea in Euripides' play
(Episode 2, ll.522-575). As I read the play
in Greek rather than English, I realized
that the character sounded even more outrageous
in his views, whose words Euripides
calibrates in such a way that is meant
to sound so outrageously self-centered and
selfish that one can't help but think there's
a joke somewhere around here. Therefore, the
English translation is trying its best to
capture this "ridiculous" element in Jason's
speech. I've structured the translation into
the colloquial, modernized (therefore familiar)
style of an "interview," which I
hoped would make it much easier to see what
Euripides may have intended here (and of
course, to offer the reader my own modern
reception of an ancient play). Most of all,
this translation's style and structure is
personal to me, as I took inspiration from
one of my favorite authors, David Foster
Wallace, who wrote the wonderful collection
Brief Interviews with Hideous Men.
A Brief Interview with a Hideous Man
27
AVES GRAVES
Oil on linen, 18"x24"
by Blue Smiley
from The School of Classics
at the University of St Andrews
28
artist's statement
Gender is not static in Catullus 63,
but changes, both linguistically and
narratively. This painting of Attis is
an exploration of gender in Catullus’
poem, particularly as it resonates
through my experience as a non-binary
trans person:
we see what is (and still is),
what was (and is no longer),
what is lost (but still lurks),
& what is gained (but feels lost).
The primary figure and the panther
on which it rests are modelled after
a statue of Dionysus which was assembled
by the 17th century sculptor
François Duquesnoy, who combined
fragments of ancient Roman
statues with several of his own original
inventions, which include the
heads of both Dionysus and the panther.
The statue is currently on view
at the Metropolitan Museum of Art
in New York City in Gallery 621.
This piece is also published as part of Catullan Identities, an online
collaborative art project that examines constructions of gender in the
poetry of Catullus (supported by the University of St. Andrews and
the Laidlaw Foundation). The project and gallery can be found at
https://catullan-identities.wp.st-andrews.ac.uk
ETRUSCAN NUMISMATICS: THE UNIQUE DEVEL-
OPMENT OF COINAGE IN DIFFERENT CITY-
STATES30
Rina Rossi
ETRUSCAN NUMISMATICS:
THE UNIQUE DEVELOPMENT OF
COINAGE IN DIFFERENT CITY-STATES
Rina Rossi
University of California, Berkeley
The Etruscans of Populonia, Tarquinia, Volterra, Chiusi, and
Arezzo used coinage for a multitude of different reasons. As a consequence
of heightened interaction with Rome through maritime trade,
coinage became increasingly important to the economies of Lattara
and other Etruscan city-states. The Etruscans’ economy was more limited
than the Greek economy which they were highly influenced by. The
Etruscan economy, which was most active from the fifth century B.C.E.
until the third century B.C.E., developed coinage independently within
their particular city-states. Etruscan city-states developed their own
weights and denominations for their coins, and used coinage to show
their city’s unique identity or culture, such as their religion, art, or politics.
The Etruscans lived from around 900–400 B.C.E. Their empire
stretched from Campania in the south to the Po Valley in the north. Although
the Etruscans were a highly innovative group of people, there
are few surviving written records of the civilization, which makes it
difficult to understand the entirety of their history. 1 Yet, even in the
absence of such written records, there are still many surviving Etruscan
tombs, paintings, and sarcophagi. In fact, the Etruscans were
the first group of people in ancient Italy to produce landscape paintings,
and they produced many landscape paintings in their elaborate
1 Smith, The Etruscans: A Very Short Introduction, pp. 1-2.
Etruscan Numismatics
31
tombs, such as the Tomb of the Hunting and Fishing in Tarquinia and
the Tomb of the Ship. 2 Despite making a revolutionary contribution to
art history, landscape paintings in the western Mediterranean are often
attributed to Greco-Roman culture. In particular, the Roman philosopher
Pliny credited the Augustan painter Studius as the founder of
landscape paintings in Rome, noting that “he first introduced the most
attractive fashion of painting walls with villas, porticoes (harbors?), and
landscape gardens, groves, woods, hills, fish-pools, canals, rivers,” even
though fish-pools and landscape gardens were first painted on landscape
paintings in the Etruscan Tomb of the Hunting and Fishing. 3 The
failure to properly credit Etruscans did not stop with landscape paintings
by ancient scholars like Pliny. While scholarship is slowly beginning
to recognize more of the Etruscans’ achievements and innovations,
many contemporary scholars still hesitate to attribute various art
forms to the Etruscans or accuse Etruscans of taking credit for other
civilizations’ achievements. In classical archeologist John Boardman’s
discussion of Etruscan art in The Greeks Overseas: Their Early Colonies and
Trade, he critically questions the possibility for the Etruscans to have
innovated art forms and states that
If this is true, the orientalizing phase of Etruscan civilization is very largely
due to trade with the Greeks. In effect they were exposed to the same new
art forms and techniques of the eastern world as the Greeks had been. The
difference in the reactions of the two peoples is a measure of the difference in
their quality and originality. The Greeks chose, adapted, and assimilated
until they produced a material culture which was wholly Greek, despite all
the superficial inspiration which the east provided. The Etruscans accepted
all they were offered, without discrimination. They copied – or paid Greeks
and perhaps immigrant easterners to copy – with little understanding of the
forms and subjects which served as models. (199-200)
2 Pieraccini, “Etruscan Wall Painting: Insights, Innovations, and Legacy”, pp. 247-260.
3 Pliny, Natural History, 35.116–117.
32 Rina Rossi
Boardman contributes deeply to the continued erasure of the
Etruscans and normalizes the viewing other ancient cultures through
a Greek lens in contemporary scholarship. This paper seeks to reject
Etruscan erasure and aims to understand how the Etruscans actually
functioned, and possibly innovated, in other aspects of their lives, such
as their economy.
Etruscan coinage began to develop with independent city-states
and was heavily tied to the culture and needs of the respective cities. 4
According to Catalli, “the production of coinage developed within individual
city-states” in Etruria, rather than developed as a whole civilization.
5 Since the Etruscan economy was not as heavily monetized as
other neighboring societies’ at the time, the first Etruscan coins “were
marked with limited production restricted to high values as well as a
restricted area of circulation.” 6 Minting coins at a limited production
level while restricting them to high value was similarly practiced by the
Greeks, as well as the people of Magna Graecia and Sicily. 7 However,
Catalli argues that production was based upon the needs of individual
city-states, as he notes that
This production cannot be justified by the needs of domestic or international
commerce, in comparison with the territory of each city-state. For this early
period, a few scholars have suggested that the production of coins was dictated
by a policy of acquisition and payment within gentilic groups rather than
within a governmental authority. (465)
The Etruscans appear to have used a variety of different standard
weights in their coinage, such as Asia Minor, Euboean Attic and the
Roman libra, of which the Asia Minor standard weight had the lowest
4 Catalli, “Coins and Mints”, 463.
5 Catalli, 463.
6 Catalli, 465.
7 Stazio, “Storia monetaria dell’Italia preromana,” 114.
Etruscan Numismatics
33
value, and the Roman libra the highest, sometimes worth up to a duodecimal
(see Figure 1).
Figure 1: Chart detailing standard weights of coins used across Etruscan cities, Fiorenzo
Catalli
The libra, which existed from the late fifth century B.C.E. to the
first half of the third century B.C.E., was used frequently in Etruscan
coinage, whereas other weights, like the stater, were only used in a few
circumstances. 8 Etruscan coinage first appeared in the cities of Populonia
and Vulci, later than Greek coinage but earlier than coinage in
Rome. In Populonia, the first types of coinage were based upon Eastern
Greek systems, such as that of the Massalians and Phokaians, which
based a coin’s worth upon its weight. 9 It is also likely that the Etruscans
had a unique unit of weight known as the “Etruscan pound”, which
was equal to around 143.5 grams. 10 The coinage of Populonia and Vulci
8 Maggiani, “Weights and balances,” 473.
9 Haynes, “Etruscan civilization: a cultural history,” 165.
10 Maggiani, “Weights and balances,” 473.
34 Rina Rossi
played a large role in their “economic and cultural environments,” evident
by the fact that coinage was heavily involved in Populonia’s maritime
trade in the Tyrrhenian Sea during the mid sixth century B.C.E. 11
In excavations of Volterran walls in 1868, archeologists found a hoard
of Etruscan silver denomination coins. The 65 coins contained in this
hoard are thought to have weighed around 0.69 grams each, and were
the first types of coins used in Populonia. Additionally, Catalli argues
for the presence of “active commercial traffic with the entire Etruscan
Tyrrhenian coast from the end of the sixth to the beginning of the fifth
century” because the Populonian coins were found in a hoard next to a
group of coins from Massalia. 12 However, even though the Populonians
were deeply entrenched in active maritime trade during the sixth and
fifth centuries, their economy slowed, facing “a period of inactivity that
lasted a couple of decades,” which led them to strike additional silver
coins. 13 These coins varied in base weight. Some may have used the old
Asia Minor base weight of 5.8 grams, which was used by the Etruscans
during the first half of the fifth century B.C.E. Other Etruscan silver
coins used a base weight rooted in the Euboean stater, weighing 17.44
grams and used in the first half of the third century B.C.E. by cities in
southern Italy. 14 The Etruscan coins that use the Asia Minor stater’s base
weight depict either a lion with a sea monster’s tail, or a lion’s head (see
Figure 2). Coins that utilize the Euboean stater feature a wild boar (see
Figure 3) and chimera (see Figure 4). Etruscan coins are unique in that
many of their coins featured one blank side with no marks or inscriptions.
11 Catalli, “Coins and Mints,” 463.
12 Catalli, 465.
13 Catalli, 464.
14 Catalli, 464.
Etruscan Numismatics
35
Figure 2: Populonian silver didrachm, 5th century B.C.E., Fiorenzo Cattali
Figure 3: Populonian silver tridrachm with chimera, 5th century B.C.E., Fiorenzo Cattali
Figure 4: Populonian silver tridrachm with wild boar, 5th century B.C.E., Fiorenzo Cattali
The first coins in Populonia feature gold and silver values inscribed
with a Gorgon’s head (see Figure 5) and are from the third-quarter of
the fifth century. 15
15 de Marinis, “L’abitato protostorico di Como,” 25.
36 Rina Rossi
Figure 5: Populonian silver issue worth 10 units, with Gorgon’s head and “X” inscription,
middle 5th century B.C.E., Fiorenzo Cattali
These coins are thought to have originated from the end of the fifth
century due to the intensive metallurgy that was prevalent in Populonia
at the same time. Specifically, Populonia monopolized iron export and
production at Elba, which led to the foundation of an internal market
in Populonia, where money and coinage, like the earliest gold and silver
Gorgon coins, might have been favored to deal with expenses. This
period of intense metallurgical transaction was also a significant era
for Populonia’s changing economy, as the coinage they used during this
time was not only of high value denominations, but also included low
value coins “in reasonable quantity.” 16
The Populonians also minted a series of gold coins (see Figure 6)
with denominations depicting a lion head with “gaping jaws.” This was
the first coinage series minted in Etruria. 17 The coins were valued at 50,
25, and 12.5. This pattern, which followed a “nearly perfect correspondence
of weights and values,” also corresponds with a series of gold
coins from Syracuse during Dionysius I’s rule from 405 B.C.E. to 367
B.C.E. 18 Some of the other designs inscribed on gold values, which depicted
the Gorgon head, a hippocamp, and male and female heads, are
16 Catalli, “Coins and Mints,” 465.
17 Catalli, 465.
18 Hackens, “La métrologie des monnaies étrusques les plus anciennes”, 221.
Etruscan Numismatics
37
thought to be part of the same coinage system within Populonia. After
this period, Populonia continued to mint bronze and silver coins, as
Populonia’s main industry turned to producing bronze from copper. 19
However, the issues were consistently valued at more similar rates,
ocuuring in line with a period of monetary devaluation and a wider
circulation of coinage. The most popular value of Populonian coins at
this time was the Gorgon-headed silver stater, found over 1,000 times
on forty coins. The coin was struck with the “XX” value (see Figure 7)
and featured “Pupluna” or “Puplana” on the reverse to honor the city.
According to Catalli, the fact that the coins possessed a different value,
yet a weight equivalent to that of the older coin series, likely points to
devaluation of the coin. In line with this, coinage in Populonia began to
circulate and expand more widely throughout the city, as several hoards
of coinage were found outside of the city in an economically significant
area that was “directly dependent on the city, which is closely connected
with the ever-greater involvement of money in the social and economic
life of Populonia.” 20 These hoards of coins were found in addition
to other Populonian coins of the same mint, such as a bronze series
with the legend “Pupluna” or “Pupfluna,” along with either the head of
Turms-Hermes with a caduceus, Sethlans-Hephaestus with a hammer
and tongs, Menrva-Athena with an owl, or Hercle-Heracles with a bow,
arrows and club. The hoards of various designs also indicate that the
coins’ weight was reduced over various periods of time. Additional Populonian
bronze coins took the form of the dozens series, which featured
punched figures on their reverses (see Figure 8). This was a rare design,
but not outside the range of Etruscan coinage.
19 Haynes, Etruscan Civilization: A Cultural History, 164.
20 Catalli, 467.
38 Rina Rossi
Figure 6: Populonian gold coin with lion’s head, worth 50 units, late 5th-early 4th century
B.C.E., Fiorenzo Catalli
Figure 7: Populonian silver didrachm with Gorgon’s head, first half of 3rd century B.C.E.,
Fiorenzo Catalli
Figure 8: Populonian bronze with head of Sethlans (left), Populonian bronze with hammer
and tongs and “vetalu”, “pufluna” inscribed, first half of third century B.C.E., Fiorenzo Catalli
The coinage of Populonia also reflects the economic strength of the
city, as well as the city’s cultural priorities, such as its military expenses.
Specifically, the expansive list of Populonian coin issues that were minted
between the late fourth century B.C.E. and the third century B.C.E.
was a result of the city’s economic prosperity. 21 Haynes argues that “a
sure sign of the economic and entrepreneurial capacity of Populonia
is the creation of coinage, a means of exchange whose value was guaranteed
by the city,” and explains that this economic capacity resulted
21 Haynes, “Etruscan Civilization : a Cultural History,” 264.
Etruscan Numismatics
39
in the production of silver, gold, and bronze coins. 22 This economic capacity,
which resulted largely due to Populonia’s bronze metallurgy industry,
led to a more equal distribution of wealth among Populonians. 23
Haynes also notes that the bronze coins from the late fourth century
B.C.E. to the third century B.C.E.—which depicted Minerva on the obverse,
and an owl, crescent, stars, globes and the legend “Pupluna” on
its reverse—were issued in order to enable the Populonians to pay their
troops. 24
The Etruscans in Tarquinia and Volterra also developed and used
coinage that was specific to their respective cities’ art and political and
economic history. In particular, the Volterrans and Tarquinians utilized
a calibrated weight system, minting coinage in duodecimal divisions of
value. The Tarquinians developed an anepigraphic series of coins that
had the same weight in various types of values. These coins were tied to
Tarquinia because the design on their coinage—composed of the letter
“alpha” and the head of a wild boar—is found in the Tomba dei Pinie
wall painting at Tarquinia. Additionally, the Tarquinian coins date to
around the last decades of the fourth century B.C.E., and most likely
were not used after 300 B.C.E. The founder of this issue, Vel Pinies, may
have attributed responsibility for the coin to his magistrate, as a drawing
of his magistrate’s emblem was rendered in the Tomba dei Pinie.
According to Catalli, the depiction of Vel Pinies’s magistrate is “entirely
in line” with Tarquinia’s historical fate. Although Tarquinia initially
dominated an expansive territory, it experienced a slow but steady decline
starting in the middle of the fourth century B.C.E. as a result of
conflict with Rome, which led to Tarquinia’s fall in 281 B.C.E. 25
22 Hayes, 265.
23 Haynes, 164.
24 Haynes, 265.
25 Catalli, 467
40 Rina Rossi
Similar to how the Tarquinians’ coinage alluded to the city’s history,
the Volterrans also minted coins that were closely related to the
culture and politics of Volterra. More than six hundred examples of
Volterran coinage survive, which show that they possessed coins of
three different series with varying denominations, like the dupondius
and the ounce. The discovery of coinage from Volterra, as well as correlations
to other materials, suggests that coinage was present during
the entirety of the third century B.C.E., though its production might
have halted during the First Punic War. 26 This meant that the Volterrans
were minting coins during a period of “remarkable cultural homogeneity”
that took place between the fourth and first century B.C.E., when
Volterra was expanding their Archaic stone walls up to 7.28 kilometers
in order to increase the city’s wealth and population. 27 Minting coins
several decades after the Tarquinians, the Volterrans depicted the
legend “Velathri,” in Etruscan letters, on all their coins, along with a
two-faced, youthful head. This design is likely to have correlated with
Volterra’s era of immense artistic development, as made evident by the
extensions of their stone walls. This period of development also closely
coincided with the Volterran urban population’s growth, as well as their
territorial expansion, which was dependent on the city both culturally
and politically. 28 In particular, the Cecina Valley where Volterra was
located, experienced immense agricultural growth and wealth at this
time while under the aristocracy’s order and control. In line with this
growth, Haynes argues that the Volterrans also cast bronze coins that
depicted a double-headed rendering of Culsans, who was an Etruscan
god. 29 This deity, who would be placed near city walls and gates with
a dolphin or a club, as well as the inscription “Velathri,” was meant to
26 Catalli, 467.
27 Haynes, 363.
28 Catalli, “Le monete a leggende Vatl,” 181.
29 Neppi, “Cortona etrusca e romana,” 143-5.
Etruscan Numismatics
41
represent Volterra’s ongoing political and economic influence. 30
The ancient Etruscans’ usage of coinage for specific purposes such
as honoring religion, rituals, military payment, maritime trade and
paying homage to the artistic, political and economic developments
of particular cities, functions similarly to the ancient Celtic-speaking
town of Lattara. In Lattara, coinage functioned for specific purposes
and was known as “special-purpose” money from the end of the fourth
century B.C.E. until the end of the second century B.C.E. 31 Interestingly,
Lattara had such a limited monetary economy that coinage did not
appear in the city until the middle of the fourth century B.C.E., and
then only in very small portions. It was not until the colonial interaction
of the town with Massalian Greeks, Romans and Etruscans in 121 B.C.E.
that the people of Lattara began to use coins for a wider variety of economic
activities, such as purchasing local goods and goods at bakeries
and workshops. 32 However, while the inhabitants of Lattara began to
use coinage more frequently following the Roman conquest, Luley explained
that this did not mean coinage immediately became “an acceptable
form of exchange” for all types of goods. 33 This was because the people
of Lattara still used feasting, instead of coinage, as a way to mobilize
labor, and decided to use coinage for more particular needs, such as the
purchase of subsistence goods, iron objects and bronze goods. 34 While
the Etruscans’ economy was not as limited as the economy of Lattara,
both groups clearly used coinage for specific items.
Similar to the Tarquinians and Volterrans, various cities in northern
Etruria like Cortona, Chiusi and Arezzo used a calibrated weight
system, and their coinage was specific to their respective city-states,
30 Haynes, 363.
31 Luley, “Coinage at Lattara,” 184.
32 Py, “Les Monnaies preaugust,” 1151.
33 Luley, 186.
34 Luley, 187.
42 Rina Rossi
ultimately revealing critical aspects of their culture and history. The
northern Etruscans minted coins based upon two different weights,
which were 151.60 grams and 204.66 grams (see Figure 9), the former
also seene in the Volterran coins. Additionally, the northern Etruscan
cities minted at least eight different series of coins, with differing
designs inscribed on them. Their initial series features a wheel on its
obverse, and either the same wheel, or a krater, axe, amphora, or anchor
on the coin’s reverse. For their two additional series, the northern
Etruscans depicted a wheel on their coins’ obverse, just like the wheel
that appears on the Populonian’s silver series. The northern Etruscans’
ultimate series, most commonly produced in Arretium-Cortona, depicts
an augur on the reverse and includes a hammer and axe on the
obverse (see Figure 10). 35
Figure 9: Volterran bronze dupondium with head of Culsans and “velathri” inscription, early
3rd century B.C.E., Fiorenzo Cattali
Figure 10: Bronze coin from Arretium-Cortona with Augur’s head on obverse, and ax and
hammer on reverse, early 3rd century B.C.E., Fiorenzo Cattali
The Etruscan series that is inscribed with an axe and anchor is similar
to two bronze series, but the axe and anchor series uses different
35 Catalli, “Coins and Mints,” 468.
Etruscan Numismatics
43
values such as the ounce, half-ounce and quarter ounce. While it has
been difficult to precisely accredit individual issues to a northern Etruscan
city based on letters inscribed on the coins, it is likely that most of
their coins came from the Chiana Valley and Elsa Valley. These different
pounds likely had an Etruscan origin, where one weight was gained
from the other weight due to reduction. Catalli argues that weight reduction
was the most likely cause of the two different pounds, pushing
back on a Roman-centric belief that the different weights derived from
Roman influence on the Etruscans, stating that
it seems more logical to believe that they were two pounds of Etruscan origin,
and that one might be derived from the other by reduction, rather than
imagining an exclusively Roman provenience in a general view of the dependence
of all Etruscan and Italic coin production on the Roman model.
(468)
Rather than seeking solely Roman influence, it is more likely that the
northern Etruscans’ silver, gold, and bronze coinage derived from Magna
Graecia, a largely Greek environment. Northern Etruscan coinage
may have also been influenced by those in Sicily. In line with this, the
minters of the bronze-cast coins in northern Etruria were likely influenced
by various Italic cities that paid homage to the Latin, Italic, and
Etruscan traditions of exchanging unshaped or unfinished bronze-copper
for other coins. Also, there are two anepigraphic series of coins depicting
a black African with an elephant and another that portrays a
man’s head along with a “running fox-like dog”. 36 While these issues
do not have a legend, they were found in an area ascribed to northern
Etruria during an era that stretched as late as the end of the third century
B.C.E. Another issue of a bronze series has been found depicting a
black African individual’s head paired with an Indian elephant, which
numismatists attribute to Hannibal’s presence in Italy that ultimately
36 Catalli, 470.
44 Rina Rossi
influenced Roman, Italic, and Etruscan coins. 37
Another ancient Etruscan city that developed its own coins—which
reveal the city’s unique identity through religion—was Vatluna, or
Vetulonia. Vetulonia minted coins from the end of the fourth century
B.C.E., until the first half of the third century B.C.E. Their coins, known
as “Vatl coins,” depict a man’s head on the obverse and either inscribe a
caduceus on the reverse, or leave it blank. 38 They also minted another
issue with a denomination with half of the value, included in a series
depicting a man’s head wearing a cone-shaped helmet on the obverse,
and portraying a rudder or oar on the reverse. The people of Vetulonia
had many indigenous issues that shed light into their religious deities.
For example, the ancient Vetulonienses possessed a series in two denominations—the
oncia and sestante—each of which had the same design:
a trident with two dolphins on the reverse and a man’s head with
a sea monster’s remains on the obverse. This man has been identified
as Palaemon-Portunus, the Greek god who protects sailors, or Heracles.
However, the man has also been attributed to a local Vetulonienses
divinity who is closely connected to the maritime activity of Vetulonia,
who is most likely the same individual depicted on a Roman relief, as
well as in another Vetulonienses series on the oncia and half-oncia values.
39 The coins that have the legend “Vatl” inscribed on them are mainly
Tyrrhenian, from Populonia and Vetulonia, due to an expanding internal
market. 40
Three coins with an owl on the reverse and the heads of Aplu-Apollo,
Menrva-Athena and Turms-Hermes, and the inscription of the legend
“Peithesa” have also been uncovered, but it is difficult to match these
37 Catalli, 470.
38 Catalli, 468.
39 Camilli, “Le monete a leggende Vatl,” 183.
40 Catalli, “Coins and Mints,” 468.
Etruscan Numismatics
45
issues with a specific area. However, the gentilic term “peithe” is prevalent
throughout Chiusi, pointing to the possibility of the “Peithesa” issues
being from Chiusi. 41
The ancient Etruscans in Chiusi may have also minted coins for religious
or ritual purposes. In 1877, the sarcophagus of Larthia Seianti,
an aristocratic woman, was found in La Martinella near the city of Chiusi.
Seianti was a woman of the Chiusi dynasty, and her sarcophagus
contained Roman coins from around 189–180 B.C.E. with the head of
Janus, who is the god of life, death and beginnings, printed on the obverse.
The coins’ reverse depicts a ship sailing to the right, potentially
signifying that the boat was traveling to the afterlife. Due to the prevalence
of the Roman tradition of placing a coin in the mouth of a deceased
person to pay Charon’s fare to the afterlife, also known as Charon’s
obol, it has been thought that the Etruscans at Chiusi participated
in similar rituals. 42 While the Etruscans’ most well-documented rituals
for the deceased took the form of preparing banquets and dining by the
sarcophagi of their deceased, it is also very possible that the Etruscans
at Chiusi took part in the Charon’s obol tradition, since Larthia Seianti’s
sarcophagus contained Roman coins with elements of death and a
journey to the afterlife. 43
The Etruscan economy developed coinage independently within
their particular city-states, with their own weights and denominations,
and used coinage to show their cities’ unique identity or culture, such
as their religion, art, or politics. While archeological evidence points
to the Etruscans’ economic prosperity at various points in their history,
and shows that the cities of Etruria developed and used coinage in
unique ways, it is still important to ponder the effect that Greco-Roman
41 Catalli, 469.
42 Stevens, “Charon’s Obol and Other Coins in Ancient Funerary Practice,” 216.
43 Becker, “Seianti Hanunia Tlesnasa: An Analysis of Her Skeleton in the Sarcophagus at
the British Museum,” 404.
46 Rina Rossi
scholarship has had on interpreting Etruscan history. Similar to John
Boardman’s belittling of Etruscan achievements in art, it is possible
that the Etruscans may have achieved even more in their economies.
Perhaps there are more independent Etruscan achievements with regards
to trade and economic prosperity that have been erased by scholars
who have interpreted Etruscan history through a Greek-centric or
Roman-centric lens, and have potentially attributed their traditions in
coinage to the Greek model, even when unnecessary. Thus, one may ask:
is it possible for modern scholars of the ancient western Mediterranean
to truly understand the economy of Etruria if many aspects of Etruscan
history—such as their achievements in trade, religion, and art—have
been shown to have contributed greatly to the production of their coinage
and economy? In order to answer this question, scholars analyzing
Etruscan history must commit to examining the roots of their initial
assumptions about the Etruscans before making subsequent conclusions
about the ancient group, as much of Etruscan history has been
overlooked or erased by the Greeks and Romans.
Etruscan Numismatics
47
48 Rina Rossi
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Primary Sources
Pliny. Natural History, Volume IX: Book 35, 116-117. Harvard University
Press, n.d.
Catalli, Fiorenzo. “Colour Plates.” In Etruscology, 463-472. Boston: De
Gruyter, 2017. Web.
Secondary Sources
Becker, M. J. Seianti Hanunia Tlesnasa: An Analysis of Her Skeleton in the
Sarcophagus at the British Museum. 397-410, 1993.
Boardman, John. The Greeks Overseas: Their Early Colonies and Trade. 4th
ed. 199-200. London: Thames and Hudson, 1999.
Camilli, L. “Le monete a leggende Vatl.” In Contributi introduttivi allo
studio della monetazione etrusca. Atti del Convegno del Centro Internazionale
di Studi Numismatici. Supplemento al vol. 22 AnnIstItNum, 181–97.
Rome: Istituto Italiano di Numismatica, 1976.
Catalli, F. “Sulla circolazione dell’aes grave volterrano.” StEtr 44 (1976):
97–110.
——— “La monetazione di Tarquinia.” In La moneta fusa nel mondo antico:
quale alternativa alla coniazione? 109–17. Milan: Società Numismatica
Italiana, 2004.
——— “Coins and Mints.” Etruscology, 463-472. Boston: De Gruyter,
2017. Web.
Cristofani Martelli, M. “Il ripostiglio di Volterra.” In Contributi introduttivi
allo studio della monetazione etrusca. Atti del Convegno del Centro
Internazionale di Studi Numismatici. Supplemento al vol. 22 AnnIstIt-
Num, 87–104. Rome: Istituto Italiano di Numismatica, 1976.
Etruscan Numismatics
49
Hackens, T. “La métrologie des monnaies étrusques les plus anciennes.”
In Contributi introduttivi allo studio della monetazione etrusca.
Atti del Convegno del Centro Internazionale di Studi Numismatici. Supplemento
al vol. 22 AnnIstItNum, 221–72. Rome: Istituto Italiano di
Numismatica, 1976.
Haynes, Sybille. Etruscan Civilization: a Cultural History. J. Paul Getty
Museum, 2000.
Luley, Benjamin P. “Coinage at Lattara. Using Archaeological Context
to Understand Ancient Coins.” Archaeological Dialogues 15, no.
2 (2008): 174–195.
Maggiani, Adriano. “Weights and balances.” Etruscology, 473-476.
Boston: De Gruyter, 2017.
Neppi Modona, A. Cortona etrusca e romana. Florence: Bemporad, 1925.
Pieraccini, Lisa C. “Etruscan Wall Painting: Insights, Innovations,
and Legacy.” In A Companion to the Etruscans, 247–260. 2015.
——— “Food and Drink in the Etruscan World.” In The Etruscan World,
860–870. Routledge, 2013.
Py, M. Les Monnaies preaugust ´ eennes de Lattes et la circulation ´ monetaire
protohistorique en Gaule m ´ eridionale, ´ Lattara 19. 2006.
R.C. de Marinis, S. Casini, and M. Rapi. “L’abitato protostorico dei
dintorni di Como”. Societa Archeologica comense, 2001.
Smith, Christopher John. The Etruscans : A Very Short Introduction. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2014.
Stazio, A. “Storia monetaria dell’Italia preromana.” In Popoli e civiltà
dell’Italia antica 7, ed. M. Pallottino, 113–93. Rome: Biblioteca di storia
patria, 1978.
Stevens, Susan T. “Charon’s Obol and Other Coins in Ancient Funerary
Practice.” Phoenix 45, no. 3 (1991): 215–229.
DE RERUM NA-
DE RERUM
NATURA
1194 - 1210
V
O GENUS INFELIX HUMANUM,
TALIA DIVI
CUM TRIBUIT FACTA ATQUE IRAS
ADIUNXIT ACERBAS!
50
QUANTOS TUM GEMITUS IPSI SIBI,
QUANTAQUE NOBIS
VOLNERA, QUAS LACRIMAS
PEPERERE MINORIBU’ NOSTRIS!
NEC PIETAS ULLAST VELATUM
SAEPE VIDERI
VERTIER AD LAPIDEM ATQUE
OMNIS ACCEDERE AD ARAS,
NEC PROCUMBERE HUMI PROS-
TRATUM ET PANDERE PALMAS
ANTE DEUM DELUBRA, NEC ARAS
SANGUINE MULTO
SPARGERE QUADRUPEDUM, NEC
VOTIS NECTERE VOTA,
SED MAGE PLACATA POSSE OMNIA
MENTE TUERI.
Peyton Bull-
PEYTON
BULLOCK
DARTMOUTH
COLLEGE
Ah! Humanity! So unfortunate
to have thought these things—
natural things—
to be the works of gods.
To have invented
imagined
a terrible wrath for them.
The lamentations they placed in their own throats.
The lash marks upon our backs.
The tears running down the faces
of those yet to be born.
There is no piety in the shrouded heads
wandering through the streets,
standing before some carved stone
turning from shrine to shrine.
Piety is not in the prostrate bodies
thrown to the ground
or palms splayed before altars,
the blood of beasts spattered to entertain the thirsting flames.
Nor is it in hopes hung on prayers and promises.
No.
Piety is found when we are able to see—
to cast our gaze upon all the world
and see it
our minds
calm
with understanding.
Wisdom.
51
DE RERUM
NATURA
1194 - 1210
V
NAM CUM SUSPICIMUS MAGNI
CAELESTIA MUNDI
TEMPLA SUPER STELLISQUE
MICANTIBUS AETHERA FIXUM,
ET VENIT IN MENTEM SOLIS
LUNAEQUE VIARUM,
TUNC ALIIS OPPRESSA MALIS IN
PECTORA CURA
ILLA QUOQUE EXPERGEFACTUM
CAPUT ERIGERE INFIT,
NEQUAE FORTE DEUM NOBIS
INMENSA POTESTAS
52
SIT, VARIO MOTU QUAE CANDIDA
SIDERA VERSET;
It’s then, in those moments
when we turn our faces upward
considering the celestial realms of the great firmament
and the aether
flecked with the gleaming stars,
those moments when we ponder
the courses of the sun
and of the moon—
it’s then that somewhere in our hearts,
already heavy laden with other evils
that another concern, dire and grim,
awakened
rears its head:
the thought that perhaps
perhaps
the turning of those lights
all of those lights
innumerable lights
are due to the boundless power
of some great and terrible god
looming there above us.
PEYTON
BULLOCK
53
ODE TO LOVE (FROM SOPHOCLES' ANTIGONE)
54 Gabriela Garcia
Ode to Love
(from Sophocles' Antigone)
Gabriela Garcia
Gabriela Garcia
/ University of Chicago
Ἔρως ἀνίκατε μάχαν,
Ἔρως, ὅς ἐν κτήμασι πίπτεις,
ὅς ἐν μαλακαῖς παρειαῖς
νεάνιδος ἐννυχεύεις,
φοιταῖς δ᾽ ὑπερπόντιος ἔν τ᾽
ἀγρονόμοις αὐλαῖς ·
καί σ᾽ οὔτ᾽ ἀθανάτων φύξιμος οὐδεὶς
οὔθ᾽ ἁμερίων σέ γ᾽ ἀνθρώπων,
ὁ δ᾽ ἔχων μέμηνεν.
Eros, unbeatable in battle,
Eros, you who destroy possessions,
you who stand sentry by
young girls’ gentle cheeks
and roam overseas to
pastoral courts:
nobody, neither immortals
nor mortals that live for but a day
can escape you:
he that has you is driven mad.
σὺ καὶ δικαίων ἀδίκους
φρένας παρασπᾶις ἐπὶ λώβαι ·
σὺ καὶ τόδε νεῖκος ἀνδρῶν
ξύναιμον ἔχεις ταράξας ·
νικᾶι δ᾽ ἐναργὴς βλεφάρων
ἵμερος εὐλέτρου
νύμφας, τῶν μεγάλων πάρεδρος ἐν ἀρχαῖς
θεσμῶν· ἄμαχος γὰρ ἐμπαίζει
θεὸς Ἀφροδίτα.
And you lead just minds
astray to injustice on top of ruin;
and you have stirred up
this strife between kinsmen;
and palpable longing in the eyes
of a happily-bedded bride
prevails: it is an accomplice of great laws,
for the unconquerable god
Aphrodite toys with her living pawns.
Ode to Love (from Sophocles' Antigone)
55
Translator’s Note
Even though Sophocles’ Antigone has long been one of my favorite Greek
plays, I have always found myself frustrated with some aspect or another of the
translations I have read. In this translation of the Ode to Love, I try to bring the
vivid life (animus, really, if you will pardon the expression) of the Greek across
into English using relatively sparse diction that allows it to shine through. I
occasionally employ literal translation (e.g. “happily-bedded” for εὐλέτρου) to
highlight cultural aspects of the text (in this case, ancient Athenian marital
customs) that tend to fall through the cracks in other translations.
I do not try to emulate the original iambic trimeter of the Greek, but I do
try to keep a natural-feeling rhythm throughout. Though this choice departs
from the original musical nature of this ode, I feel that, in this brief passage, a
shift from choral lyric to a more textual poetic form is appropriate.
56 Grace DeAngelis
THE TYRIANS IN PUTEOLI, 79-96 CE:
A NEW EDITION AND INTERPRETA-
TION OF OGIS II 594
Grace DeAngelis
Northwestern University, Weinberg College of Arts and Sciences
OGIS II 594 = IGRR I 420 = SEG XXXVI 923. Image obtained from US Epigraphy (uspigraphy.brown.edu,
accessed: March 16, 2022), item no. MI.AA.UM.KM.GL.1105-1107.
TEXT & TRANSLATION
ἐπ' ὑπάτων Λουκίοu Καισε[ννίου καὶ Ποπλίου Καλοuισίου] 1
καὶ Τυρίοις LΣΔ [μ]ηνὸς ἀρ[τεμ-] 2
ισίου IA κατέ[π]λευσεν ἀ[πὸ] 3
Τύρου εἰς Ποτι[ό]λοις θεὸς [ἅγ-] 4
ιος <Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς] [ἤ]γαγεν [---] 5
ηλειμ κατ' ἐπιτο[λὴν ---] 6
Pro sal(ute) Imp(eratoris) Domitiani [---] 7
L(ocus) C(oncessus) [D(ecreto) D(ecurionum).] 8
The Tyrians in Puteoli
57
In the consulship of Lucius Caesennius [and Publius Calvisius] and in the
204th year of the Tyrians, on the 11th day of the month of Artemisios the holy god
of Sarepta sailed from Tyre to Puteoli. [(An man of?)] the Eleim(?) led (the god?)
according to(?) [(the rising of a star?)] […]
For the wellbeing of the emperor Domitian. Space granted by decree of the
town councilors.
INTRODUCTION: THE TYRIANS IN PUTEOLI
The city of Tyre (Gr. Τύρος, Lat. Tyrus), occupied continuously from
the third millennium BCE, is located on an island half a kilometer off
the Phoenician coastline (modern-day Lebanon). 1 Tyre involved itself in
Mediterranean trading networks around the fourteenth century BCE
and throughout antiquity enjoyed its reputation of “the trading and
seafaring city par excellence.” 2 Its most famous export was luxurious and
expensive purple dye, which members of Rome’s sociopolitical elite
used for their togae praetextae and pictae. 3
Originally an autonomous civilization, Tyre was conquered in
turns by the Achaemenid, Macedonian, and Ptolemaic empires between
the sixth and third centuries BCE. 4 Tyre was annexed by the
Seleucid dynasty in 200 BCE, but regained independence in 126 BCE. 5
Following Pompey’s annexation of the province Syria, Tyre entered a
formal alliance (foedus) with Rome in 64 BCE and so retained nominal
independence — although, in practice, Rome controlled Tyre’s foreign
1 Aubet, The Phoenicians and the West: Politics, Colonies, and Trade, 19.
2 Aubet, 20, 27, 35.
3 Fleming, The History of Tyre, 142–145.
4 Fleming, 48, 55, 65.
5 Jones et al., “Tyre,” in Oxford Classical Dictionary. The Seleucid dynasty was one of the
factions into which the Macedonian empire split after the death of Alexander the Great.
58 Grace DeAngelis
relations. 6 As their city was now a civitas foederata of Rome, the Tyrians
enjoyed the right of commercium, which permitted them to trade freely
and equally with Romans. 7 Tyre remained a wealthy commercial center,
but its hegemony over Mediterranean trade was diminished as it was
now officially under the sway of the Roman empire. 8
The text of the inscription indicates that a group of Tyrians resided
at least semi-permanently in Puteoli towards the end of the first century
CE. Puteoli was founded in the seventh century BCE as a Greek colony,
originally bearing the name Δικαιαρχία. 9 Following its establishment
as a Roman colonia in 194 BCE (and subsequent name change), Puteoli
became the most economically important port on the Italian peninsula,
serving as the principal hub for commerce between the eastern and
western Mediterranean. 10 Groups of merchants from cities across the
Mediterranean, including Tyre, Heliopolis, and Berytus, set up plots
of land and buildings (stationes) for themselves in Puteoli to serve as a
commercial ‘headquarters.’ 11 The Tyrians mentioned in the inscription
above were most likely in Puteoli for reasons of trade, although it cannot
be determined if the Tyrian statio formally existed at the dates referenced
in the inscription above (79/81 CE).
We do know that, by these years, Tyre had been a civitas foederata of
Rome for over a century. But for nearly seven centuries before Rome
was even founded, Tyre had been well-established as a master, if not
the master, of Mediterranean trade. What, then, would it mean to be a
member of a Tyrian commercial group living in Puteoli in the first century
CE? This inscription provides some insight, as it offers a glimpse
6 Jones et al., “Tyre.”.
7 Mousourakis, A Legal History of Rome, 198.
8 Fleming, The History of Tyre, 72.
9 Lomas, “Puteoli,” in Oxford Classical Dictionary.
10 Frederiksen, Campania, 319–337.
11 Frederiksen, 330.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
59
into the multi-ethnic social atmosphere of Puteoli, a city which, in the
first century CE, was simultaneously a colonia firmly under the thumb
of Rome and a hub of non-Roman diversity. It demonstrates how the
Tyrians attempted to fit themselves into the civic order of Roman Puteoli
while continuing to uphold their own sense of ethnic identity and
political autonomy.
In this paper, I will describe the physical qualities of the object and
provide a commentary on the content and language of the text. I will
conclude with a discussion about how the physical and linguistic details
of the inscription together can help us understand its message and
social context.
THE OBJECT
The stones on which OGIS II 594 (= IGRR I 420 = SEG XXXVI 923;
referred to hereafter as “the present inscription” or “the inscription”) 12 is
inscribed were uncovered during excavations in Puteoli. Italian archaeologist
Federico Halbherr found the two stone pieces in two successive
years (1890 & 1891), having discovered the rectangular piece before the
disc-shaped piece. After recognizing the similar lettering and reuniting
the two pieces, Halbherr published them together in Notizie degli Scavi
di Antichità, an Italian journal for archaeological finds, in 1891. 13 Both
pieces are white marble, possibly Carrara. 14
Halbherr found the stones “presso [= nearby] l’antica porta Erculea”
in Puteoli. 15 He did not record where in relation to the porta Erculea
12 See 21 below for abbreviations.
13 Halbherr, XIV. Pozzuoli, 167–168.
14 Visonà, The Bilingual Inscriptions for the Holy God of Sarepta, 50.
15 Halbherr, XIV. Pozzuoli, 167–168. “Cavi per fondanzioni di nuovi edifici presso l’antica porta Erculea”
= “excavations in the foundations of new buildings nearby the ancient porta Erculea”
(translation mine).
60 Grace DeAngelis
(“Herculean gate”), nor how close together they were found. The archaeological
remains of the porta Erculea do not survive today, but they did
stand until the nineteenth century at the beginning of the via consularis
Puteolis Capuam. 16
Giuseppe di Criscio, an antiquarian and Catholic priest from Puteoli,
purchased both pieces of the stone from Halbherr. At the beginning
of the twentieth century, di Crisco sold his collection of antiquities to
the Kelsey Museum at the University of Michigan, where the stone still
resides today. 17
Based on the dates the inscription references, its creation can
be dated between 79 and 96 CE. 18 As the text mentions Tyre twice
(Τυρίοις, line 2; Τύρου, 4), it is natural to conjecture that the inscription,
pre-breakage, could have been placed in the Tyrian statio in Puteoli;
however, the precise location of the Tyrian statio is as yet unknown, as is
the date of its establishment. 19 For these reasons, it cannot be concluded
with certainty that this inscription was in the statio. Nonetheless, the
Latin imperial dedication and abbreviation “L(ocus) C(oncessus) [D(ecreto)
D(ecurionum)]” 20 in the last two lines of the inscribed text implies
that the text stood in a public spot. 21
16 Dubois, Pouzzoles Antique: Histoire et Topographie, 242.
17 Tuck, Latin Inscriptions in the Kelsey Museum: The Dennison and De Criscio Collections, 4–5.
18 The dating formulae in lines 1–2 refer to the year 79 CE, and the dedication to Domitian
places lines 7–8 between the years 81 and 96 CE, when Domitian was sole imperator. See
16 below.
19 On the fact that the location is yet unknown, see Lombardi, I Tirii Di Puteoli e Il Dio Di
Sarepta: La Documentazione Epigrafica Da Una Sponda All’altra Del Mediterraneo, 404.
20 The restoration of ‘DD’ and expansion of the abbreviation are accepted based on
the Oxford Handbook of Roman Epigraphy, 793, which lists “L(ocus) C(oncessus) D(ecreto)
D(ecurionum)” as the only abbreviation in Latin epigraphy that begins with “LC.” Additionally,
according to the list of epigraphic abbreviations assembled by Tom Elliot, Abbreviations
in Latin Inscriptions, “LCDD” is the only four-letter abbreviation that does not stand for an
individual’s name. See 17 below.
21 Visonà, Bilingual Inscriptions, 56.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
61
If we assume that the Greek was inscribed in the year that it references
(79 CE), then the Latin must have been added to the stone at a
later point, for Domitian did not become sole imperator until 81. It is
possible that the stone originally stood in a private context for some
years, then was transferred to a public one after the Puteolean town
councilors (decuriones) granted the Tyrians the use of public land.
It is impossible to determine from its present state when the
stone was broken, whether it was broken purposely or accidentally,
and into how many fragments it was broken. The rectangular piece has
been broken on the left and right sides. Its dimensions are 0.33 meters
(top edge) by 0.425 meters (bottom edge) by 0.37 meters (height). 22 Its
thickness is 0.058 meters at the top, but only 0.049 meters in the center,
because the inscribed face is concave. 23 Paolo Visonà, who had the
opportunity to observe both pieces of the stone up close, noted that the
inscribed face of the rectangular piece is “heavily weathered,” but “little
wear is noticeable on the back.” 24
The disc-shaped piece must have been carved into its present
shape after the inscription was broken, and, most likely, the shape is a
result of purposeful human intervention. At some later point, the disc
itself was also broken. If whole, the object would be nearly a perfect circle
with a horizontal diameter of 0.29 meters and a vertical diameter of
0.295 meters. 25 Visonà commented that the rear of the disc is smooth,
but its inscribed face has calcifications. 26
When Halbherr published his discovery of the two pieces, he in-
22 Visonà, 50. These measurements differ slightly from Halbherr’s measurements, which
were reported as “larga m. 0,43” and “lunga m 0,36.”
23 Visonà, Bilingual Inscriptions, 50.
24 Visonà, 50.
25 Visonà, 50. These measurements differ slightly from Halbherr’s measurements which
were reported as “m. 0,26 x 0,23 x 0,06.”
26 Visonà, 50.
62 Grace DeAngelis
cluded mention of a third, separate inscription. This stone is also discshaped,
made of marble, and presumably was carved into its present
shape after being cut out of a larger inscription. 27 The only word inscribed
on this stone is “ΔΕΙΦΙΛΟΣ.” 28 The circumstances surrounding
this stone are obscure, as it was never published again after Halbherr
and does not appear to be in any museum collection. 29 However, it is
worth mentioning because it has the same dimensions as the discshaped
piece of the present inscription. 30 Halbherr’s decision to publish
the descriptions of the two discs together also suggests that they were
found nearby one another, if not together.
Although the fragments are of unknown provenience, I want to
propose some tentative suggestions based on the calcification of the
disc-shaped piece and on the existence of the ΔΕΙΦΙΛΟΣ inscription.
Calcification indicates that the stone was exposed to water; there was
a fountain approximately 400 meters down the via consularis from the
porta Erculea that drew from the aqueduct supplying Puteoli. 31 The two
marble discs of similar dimensions plausibly could have been decorative
elements on this fountain. 32 Following its breakage, perhaps part
of the present inscription was repurposed for decoration, carved into a
disc, and placed somewhere on the fountain. The same could be true for
27 Halbherr, XIV. Pozzuoli, 168.
28 Δείφιλος is a Greek personal name attested elsewhere in epigraphy. See, for example,
SEG XXIV 200. PHI Greek Inscriptions (accessed: March 16, 2022).
29 As of March 16, 2022, the object described by Halbherr does not exist in the online
database of Greek inscriptions hosted by the Packard Humanities Institute (PHI Greek
Inscriptions). I ran the search twice, with the terms ‘δειφιλος’ and ‘ΔΕΙΦΙΛΟΣ’. Halbherr
published only the text, not a drawing.
30 Halbherr, XIV. Pozzuoli, 168. Halbherr’s measurements of the stone differ slightly from
Visonà’s measurements; see footnote 25 above. However, Halbherr reported that both the
disc of the present inscription and the ΔΕΙΦΙΛΟΣ disc had a diameter of “0,26 m.”
31 Dubois, Pouzzoles Antique, 243.
32 Roman fountains in the first century AD could be highly decorative. For example, a
decorative public fountain in Milan featured “wall paintings, mosaics and marble veneer”;
Kreuz, From Nature to Topography, 18.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
63
the ΔΕΙΦΙΛΟΣ inscription. This situation would satisfactorily explain
both the calcification and the disc shape.
THE TEXT
On the stone, there are eight lines of text. The rectangular piece
presents roughly the first half of all eight lines, while the circular piece
has fragments of the second half of lines 2–5.
Lines 1–6 are in Greek, and 7–8 are in Latin. The number “1107” on
the stone is its inventory number in the Kelsey Museum. 33 The lettering
is now rubricated, which is probably a modern reconstruction; Halbherr
did not mention rubrication in his initial publication. 34
Visonà notes that the carving of the inscription was “not well-executed.”
35 In the Greek lines, the spacing of letters and lines are inconsistent.
36 The /Θ/ and /Ο/ of “θεός” in line 4 have tails like a Latin /Q/. 37
Lines 1–6 do not follow a strict left-hand margin, since each successive
Greek line moves slightly closer to the left edge of the stone. The first
line of the Greek is in much smaller lettering than the successive five
lines, though the “καί” at the beginning of line 2 logically links the first
line to what follows.
It is apparent that the entire text was not composed simultaneously:
the Latin letters are carved in a different style than the Greek.
The Greek letters are rectilinear while the Latin letters are cursive, and
lines 7–8 disobey the left-hand margin of 1–6. 38 Additionally, lines 1–6
33 Visonà, Bilingual Inscriptions, 50.
34 Halbherr, XIV. Pozzuoli, 167–168.
35 Visonà, Bilingual Inscriptions, 52.
36 Visonà, 52.
37 Visonà, 52.
38 Visonà, 52.
64 Grace DeAngelis
have triangular interpuncts only after numerals, line 7 has circular interpuncts
after every word, and line 8 has no interpunctuation. 39
COMMENTARY
Line 1
ἐπ' ὑπάτων Λουκίοu Καισε[ννίου καὶ Ποπλίου Καλοuισίου]
“In the consulship of Lucius Caesennius [and Publius Calvisius]”
On the stone, the /ι/ in “ἐπι” is missing because it is followed by a
vowel (aspirated /υ/). The omission of elided final vowels is characteristic
of ancient Greek epigraphy. 40
The construction “ἐπι ὑπάτων (+ genitive)” is the idiomatic Greek
expression for Roman consular dating which appeared in Latin in the
ablative absolute. 41 Therefore, the use of “ἐπι ὑπάτων” suggests that the
person or group responsible for dictating the phrasing of the text was
familiar with Greek idioms used in official Roman contexts. A group
of Tyrians in the first century CE would likely be familiar with such idioms,
since their home city was ruled in the past by the Macedonian
Greeks and, at this point, had a century-long formal relationship with
Rome. 42
Lucius Iunius Caesennius Paetus and Publius Calvisius Ruso Iulius
Frontinus were co-suffect consuls from March 1st until May 29th in 79
CE. 43 Based on the other dating information in the text (see following
39 Visonà , 52. Both circular and triangular interpuncts were common during the Principate;
Edmondson, Inscribing Roman Texts: Officinae, Layout, and Carving Techniques, 127.
40 Sturtevant and Kent, Elision and Hiatus in Latin Prose and Verse, 139.
41 Adams, Bilingualism and the Latin Language, 504.
42 Andrade, Assyrians, Syrians and the Greek Language in the Late Hellenistic and Roman
Imperial Periods, 300.
43 Degrassi, I Fasti Consolari Dell’Impero Romano Dal 30 Avanti Cristo al 613 Dopo Cristo, 23.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
65
commentary), we can be sure that “Λουκίοu Καισε[---]” here refers to
the suffect consul of 79 CE and not, for instance, the homonymous man
who was consul in 61 CE. 44 The restoration of Calvisius’ name is also
based on this logic.
Calvisius’ praenomen and gentilicum have been restored fully by editors
because the original dimensions of the stone are large enough to
allow for it. 45
Line 2
καὶ Τυρίοις LΣΔ
“And in the 204th year of the Tyrians”
The symbol “L” in Greek epigraphy and numismatics stands for the
word ἔτος (or an inflected form). 46
The letters “Σ” and “Δ” represent the numbers 200 and 4, respectively
(see table 1). These numbers come from the Greek alphabetic numeral
system which was used in the Greek-speaking world from the Hellenistic
period onwards. This system was additive for numbers under 1000,
and, by convention, the symbols were ordered by decreasing value with
the highest value first. 47 So, “ΣΔ” makes 204.
44 Degrassi, 17.
45 Visonà, Bilingual Inscriptions, 53. The praenomen is an individual’s first name, like Lucius
and Publius, and the gentilicum is their family’s name, like Caesennius and Calvisius. The
other names indicate more specific branches of family lines. See Solin, “Names, personal,
Roman,” in Oxford Classical Dictionary.
46 Avi-Yonah, Abbreviations in Greek Inscriptions (The Near East, 200 B.C. - A.D.1100), 114.
47 Chrisomalis, Numerical Notation: A Comparative History, 138–139.
66 Grace DeAngelis
Table 1: The Greek alphabetic numeral symbols, 1-900. Reprinted from Chrisomalis, Numerical
Notation, 139.
There is a horizontal bar carved over “LΣΔ” to indicate that the letters
are functioning as numerals. Horizontal bars were commonly used
for this reason in the alphabetic system but were not compulsory (see
fig. 1 for an unbarred example). 48 In imperial Latin epigraphy, horizontal
bars were used in this way to mark ordinal numbers, but in Greek
epigraphy, both cardinal and ordinal numbers could take horizontal
bars. 49 The placement of “καὶ” indicates that the phrase “Τυρίοις LΣΔ” is
both an extension of, and equal to, the consular dating in the previous
line. As discussed above, Tyre liberated itself from Seleucid rule in 126
BCE. Upon this event, one way the Tyrians expressed their autonomy
was to begin marking time in reference to their city’s independence. 50
The Tyrian calendar did not line up with the Julian calendar, and
the start of their year fell on October 18th. 51 “Year 1” thus began on October
18th 126 BCE. So, “year 204 of the [autonomous] Tyrians” was from
October 18th 78 CE until October 17th 79 CE.
48 Chrisomalis, 139.
49 Chrisomalis, 112, 139.
50 Bickerman, Chronology of the Ancient World, 74.
51 Bickerman, 70-71.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
67
This system of counting years appears on other inscriptions and
coins from Tyre in antiquity, but the number of years is given without
“Τυρίοις” (for an example, see fig. 1). There is no epigraphic or papyrological
precedent for using “Τυρίοις” or “Τυρίῳ” in this context. 52
Figure 1: The coin dates to 124/123 BCE, as "L I" means "in the third year" (see table 1). The coin
was minted in Tyre. Image reprinted from Cohen (2014), p.20. Item no/ DCCA-Tyre 5.
Following other epigraphic instances of the Tyrian dating formula,
“L” in the present text should expand to the genitive singular
“τοῦ ἔτους.” 53 Accordingly, “ΣΔ” should expand to the ordinal adjective
διακοσιοστοῦ τετάρτου, “two hundred and fourth,” 54 modifying “τοῦ
ἔτους.” The phrase is a genitive of time-within-which. 55
I have translated “Τυρίοις” as “of the Tyrians” because that is idiomatic
English, but really the construction is a dative of reference. 56
A more literal rendition of the dative in the construction “Τυρίοις LΣΔ”
would be something like “in the year that is the two-hundred-andfourth,
as far as the Tyrians are concerned.”
52 Searches were run March 16, 2022, using the individual search terms “Τυρίοις” and
“Τυρίῳ” disregarding diacritics or capitalization. PHI Greek Inscriptions; Papyri.info.
53 E.g. in the well-known inscription addressed to Tyre from the Tyrian stationarii in Puteoli
in 174 CE (IG XIV 830), line 20 contains the phrase “τοῦ ἔτους ,” “in the three hundredth
year [of the Tyrians].” On this inscription, see D’Arms, Puteoli in the Second Century of the
Roman Empire: A Social and Economic Study, 104–105.
54 Smyth, Greek Grammar, 103–104, §347.
55 Smyth, 336–337, §1444.
56 Smyth, 344, §1495.
68 Grace DeAngelis
Lines 2-3
[μ]ηνὸς ἀρ[τεμ-]
ισίου IA
“on the 11th day of the month of Artemisios”
“Ἀρτεμίσιος” is the name of a month in the Tyrian calendar derived
from the name of the goddess Ἄρτεμις (Artemis). 57 The calendrical cycles
in the Greek-speaking East differed from city to city and generally
did not match the Julian calendar, even after the introduction of Roman
influence to the area. 58 Ἀρτεμίσιος is the seventh month of the Tyrian
year, beginning on May 19th in the Julian calendar. 59
Including the word “μηνός” (< ὁ μείς, “month”) along with “ἀρ[τεμ]
ισίου” seems pleonastic, as the names of months in Greek could stand
alone as substantive nouns with “ὁ μείς” implied. 60 However, the phrase
“μηνός ἀρτεμισίου” is common elsewhere in Greek epigraphy, including
inscriptions of Phoenician provenience. 61 These comparanda lend confidence
to the restoration of “[μ]ηνὸς ἀρ[τεμ]ισίου.” The construction is
a genitive of time-within-which. 62
“IA” comes from the alphabetic numeral system and stands for “11”
(see table 1, above). Here, it most likely expands to the ordinal adjective
“ἑνδεκάτῃ,” 63 “eleventh,” with a word like “ἡμέρᾳ” (“day”) implied, for a
dative of time-at-which construction. 64 The word “ἡμέρα” in the dative
57 Mikalson, “Calendar, Greek,” in Oxford Classical Dictionary.
58 Stern, Calendars in Antiquity, 284–285.
59 Samuel, Greek and Roman Chronology: Calendars and Years in Classical Antiquity, 176.
60 e.g. IG XIV 830, line 20.
61 e.g. SEG XXXVI 1288. As of March 16, 2022, Packard records 22 instances of the phrase
“μηνός ἀρτεμισίου” in inscriptions from Syria & Phoenicia. PHI Greek Inscriptions.
62 Smyth, Greek Grammar, 336–337, §1444.
63 Smyth, 103, §347.
64 Smyth, 352, §1540.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
69
is the most common expression in ancient Greek to express the date of
an event. 65 The eleventh day of Ἀρτεμίσιος is equivalent to May 29th. This
is also the last day of Caesennius’ and Calvisius’ suffect-consulship. 66
Lines 3-5
κατέ[π]λευσεν ἀ[πὸ]
Τύρου εἰς Ποτι[ό]λοις θεὸς [ἅγ-]
ιος <Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς]
“[the] holy god of Sarepta sailed from Tyre to Puteoli”
The restorations of “κατέ[π]λευσεν,” “ἀ[πὸ],” and “Ποτι[ό]λοις” are
based on the number of letters that could realistically fit in the missing
sections and on what vocabulary makes sense in context. 67
The subject of “κατέ[π]λευσεν” is “θεὸς [ἅγ]ιος <Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς]”
(see below on this phrase). In general, the word “θεὸς” primarily means
“god” in reference to an abstracted divinity. 68 But in epigraphy, “θεὸς”
often refers more specifically to images in the likeness of a god, such as
statuary. 69 The action recorded by this inscription is probably the transfer
of a statue or cult objects from a sanctuary or temple for this god
in Tyre. 70 In ancient religious thought, when such objects moved, they
drew with them the divinity’s power. 71
The verb “καταπλέω” is primarily active in meaning (“to sail
down”). Its active forms can carry a passive sense (“to be brought by
65 ἡμέρα, The Online Liddell-Scott-Jones Greek-English Lexicon (accessed: March 17, 2022).
See especially definition II.2.
66 Degrassi, I Fasti Consolari, 23.
67 Visonà, Bilingual Inscriptions, 53.
68 θεός, The Online Liddell-Scott-Jones Greek-English Lexicon (accessed: March 16, 2022).
69 Chaniotis, The Life of Statues of Gods in the Greek World, 8.
70 Visonà, Bilingual Inscriptions, 56–57.
71 Steiner, Images in Mind: Statues in Archaic and Classical Greek Literature and Thought,
106–107.
70 Grace DeAngelis
sea”) when referring to physical objects, such as wheat. 72 Here, it perhaps
functions simultaneously in both the active and passive sense: as
the statue/objects “are brought by sea,” the god himself metaphorically
“sails” along with them. Unfortunately, it is impossible in the present
day to grasp fully the impression that this diction would leave on a Puteolean
audience in antiquity.
The use of the preposition “εἰς” with the dative “Ποτι[ό]λοις” is
most likely a grammatical mistake. In standard Greek grammar, “εἰς”
only took the accusative, 73 so we might expect “Ποτιόλους” to be written
instead. One plausible explanation is that the stonecutter erroneously
carved /οις/ in place of /ους/. 74
A round-trip journey by sea between Tyre and Puteoli in the
springtime would require just under 40 days of travel: 16–17 days from
Puteoli to Tyre, and 19–20 from Tyre to Puteoli (see figs. 2 & 3). 75
72 καταπλέω, The Online Liddell-Scott-Jones Greek-English Lexicon (accessed: March 16,
2022), where the definition includes: “of things, to be brought by sea.” Cf. Theophrastus,
Περὶ αἰτιῶν φυτικῶν 4.9.5: “πυροῦ … τοῦ Ἀθήναζε καταπλέοντος.”
73 Smyth, Greek Grammar, 376, §1686.
74 Visonà, Bilingual Inscriptions, 54.
75 ORBIS: The Stanford Geospatial Network Model of the Roman World (accessed: March 16,
2022). The calculations of 16 & 19 days are for the month April, and the calculations of 17 &
20 are for May. Figures 2 & 3 present only the journey calculated for May.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
71
Figure 2: The journey from Puteoli to Tyre. Image obtained March 16, 2022 from ORBIS: The
Stanford Geospatial Network Model of the Roman World.
Figure 3: The journey from Tyre to Puteoli. Image obtained March 16, 2022 from ORBIS: The
Stanford Geospatial Network Model of the Roman World.
The ancient city of Sarepta (Gr. Σάραπτα, Lat. Sarepta) laid on the
Phoenician coast, 22 kilometers north of Tyre. 76 Outside of Judeo-Christian
texts—where Sarepta features in relation to the two miracles which
76 Pritchard, Recovering Sarepta, a Phoenician City: Excavations at Sarafand, Lebanon,
1969–1974, by the University Museum of the University of Pennsylvania, 3. The city is now called
Sarafand, and like Tyre, is in Lebanon.
72 Grace DeAngelis
the prophet Elijah performed there in the ninth century BCE 77 —references
to Sarepta in extant Greek and Latin literature are brief and infrequent,
although they provide some relevant information that will be
discussed in a later section.
Not much else is known about the civilization of Sarepta in antiquity.
It came under Tyrian control at the beginning of the eighth century
BCE, 78 and the Romans established a port there at the end of the first
century CE, although probably after the years referenced in the present
inscription. 79
The specific name of the divinity meant by “θεὸς [ἅγ]ιος
<Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς]” is unknown, but the same phrase is attested elsewhere
in epigraphy from Phoenicia. 80 These comparanda, which link
the “holy god of Sarepta” to Tyre, have led editors to restore “[ἅγ]ιος” and
“<Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς]” in the present inscription. 81 References to Sarepta in
extant epigraphy are limited to this stock phrase, which has only been
found in Greek inscriptions to date. 82
“θεὸς [ἅγ]ιος <Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς]” in the present inscription marks
a variation from the spelling and inflection of the phrase in inscriptions
of Phoenician provenience. To demonstrate what the nature of
the variation is, it will be valuable to examine the three other extant attestations
of the “holy god of Sarepta.” 83 First is a bronze plaque from
77 Pritchard, 37.
78 Pritchard, 42.
79 Pritchard, 49, 59.
80 Pritchard, 43–45.
81 E.g. Torrey, The Exiled God of Sarepta.
82 Searches run on March 16, 2022 for words beginning with the strings “Σαραπτ” or
“Σαρεπτ,” disregarding capitalization and diacritics, resulted in only the present inscription
and the first two inscriptions from Phoenicia described below and pictured in figs. 4 and
5. There were no search results of words beginning with these strings in papyri. PHI Greek
Inscriptions; Papryri.info (accessed: March 16, 2022).
83 These three are the only attestations that have been published as of March 16, 2022.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
73
Syria (fig. 4), the first two lines of which read “θεῷ ἁγίῳ Σαραπτηνῷ.”
The dating, provenience, and archaeological context of the object are
unknown, although the text indicates that it was set up as a plaque and
accompanied by a votive offering for the “holy god of Sarepta.” 84
Second is a stone block from the site of ancient Sarepta, date
unknown (figs. 5a and 5b). The entire phrase has not survived, but by
comparing it with the previous inscription, editors have restored “[θε]ῷ
ἁ[γίῳ] Σαραπτην[ῷ]” on the first line. As the rest of the text states, the
stone was apparently used as a step, possibly up to an altar dedicated to
this god. 85
Third is a marble fragment from Tyre, dated to the first century
BCE (fig. 6). The provenience and comparanda have empowered editors
to restore the text as “[θεῷ ἁγ]ίῳ [Σ]αραπτη[ν]ῷ,” though no other
words survive. 86
Evidently, “θεὸς [ἅγ]ιος <Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς]” in the present inscription
(OGIS II 594) has precedent from Phoenicia. In addition, the lack of the
definite article “ὁ” before “θεός” is explainable by these comparanda.
However, this phrase differs linguistically from the examples
in three significant ways. First, here the phrase is in the nominative,
whereas the phrases in the inscriptions from Phoenicia were in the dative.
Second, between “[ἅγ]ιος” and “<Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς],” the stonecutter
has made a mistake, as there is only one /Σ/ where there should be two.
Third, here the adjective is written “Σαρεπτηνός” with /ε/ in the second
syllable, but the inscriptions from Phoenicia have “Σαραπτηνῷ” with /α/
Of course, it is plausible that others exist.
84 Torrey, The Exiled God of Sarepta, 46. The object is now held in the Yale Babylonian
Collection.
85 Pritchard, Recovering Sarepta, a Phoenician City, 44. The object is now held in the National
Museum of Beirut.
86 Lombardi, I Tirii Di Puteoli e Il Dio Di Sarepta, 420.
74 Grace DeAngelis
(see discussion below).
Figure 4: Image courtesy of the Yale Babylonian Collection. Photography by Klaus Wagensonner.
Catalog no. YPM BC 023171.
Figure 5a: Image reprinted from Pritchard (1971), p. 55.
Figure 5b: Apograph of the stone in 5a. Image reprinted from Pritchard (1971), p. 55.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
75
Figure 6: Image reprinted from Rey-Coquais (2006), p. 21.
Lines 5-6
[ἤ]γαγεν [---]
ηλειμ κατ' ἐπιτο[λὴν ---]
“(An official of?) the Eleim(?) led (the god?) according to(?) (the rising of a
star?) […]
The fragmentary nature of these two lines makes its message unclear
to us, but probably it provided additional information about the
god’s transfer from Tyre.
The meaning of “ηλειμ” is obscure. “ηλειμ” has no precedent in
Greek epigraphy or papyri, 87 and proper Greek words do not end in
“μ.” 88 Visonà argues that “ηλειμ” is the ending of an uninflected Semitic
name, such as Ἀβδηλείμ. This would be the name of the person who
87 As of March 16, 2022, there are no instances of words ending in the string “ηλιεμ” in
Greek epigraphy or papyri. PHI Greek Inscriptions; Papyri.info.
88 Crosby, Grammar of the Greek Language: For Use of Schools and Colleges, 149.
76 Grace DeAngelis
[ἤ]γαγεν (“led” or “brought”) the god/objects/statue to Puteoli. 89
On the other hand, Torrey argues that “ηλειμ” is a transliteration
of the Phoenician word for “gods,” which was pronounced as ēlīm. 90
He restores the missing text after “[ἤ]γαγεν” on line 5 as “ἴς,” which is a
transliteration of the Phoenician singular noun meaning “man.” Thus,
he reads “ἴς ηλειμ,” meaning “a man of the Eleim,” as the subject of
“[ἤ]γαγεν.” Both Torrey’s and Visonà’s arguments are plausible, given
that the end of line 5 is lost.
“[ἤ]γαγεν” usually takes an accusative direct object, which is lacking
from the text. A word like “θεόν” may be plausibly implied.
The meaning and purpose of “ἐπιτο[λὴν]” (< ἡ ἐπιτολή, “the rising
of a star”) is also obscure, though this restoration is accepted by all
editors. 91 For the omission of the final alpha in “κατά,” see p. 7 above.
It is not possible to choose a satisfactory definition for “κατά” without
knowing the case of the noun it governs. 92
Lines 7-8
Pro sal(ute) Imp(eratoris) Domitiani [---]
L(ocus) C(oncessus) [D(ecreto) D(ecurionum).]
For the wellbeing of the emperor Domitian. Space granted by decree of the town
councilors.
These lines probably were added after the Greek as Domitian was
emperor between 81 and 96 CE. It is also plausible that the entire text
89 Visonà, Bilingual Inscriptions, 55–56; ἄγω, The Online Liddell-Scott-Jones Greek-English
Lexicon (accessed: May 11, 2022).
90 Torrey, The Exiled God of Sarepta, 48.
91 Halbherr, XIV. Pozzuoli, 167–168; Torrey, 48; Visonà, Bilingual Inscriptions, 55–56.
92 With the genitive, the preposition “κατά” often means “down from,” and with the accusative
often “throughout” or “according to”; κατά, The Online Liddell-Scott-Jones Greek-English
Lexicon (accessed: March 16, 2022).
The Tyrians in Puteoli
77
was composed at once during Domitian’s reign, which would mean that
the date of 79 CE in lines 1-2 is a reference to an event that happened
years before the time of inscription. The shift in lettering style between
the Greek and Latin points to the former case, but the latter cannot be
ruled out.
After Domitian’s death, the Roman Senate swiftly decreed “memory
sanctions” (damnatio memoriae) against him. 93 These sanctions ordered
that images of him be destroyed and his name be scratched out
from inscriptions. 94 However, Domitian’s name clearly was not removed
from the present inscription. This is not unprecedented: in 2006, Harriet
I. Flower reported that around 60% of the extant inscriptions containing
Domitian’s name show no signs of attempted erasure. 95
Modern editors have restored “Aug(usti)” or “Augusti” after “Domitiani”
on line 6 without justification. 96 Presumably, they base this restoration
on epigraphic precedent for Domitian’s titulature. However,
the size of the missing stone would allow for more than three letters
(“Aug”) to be restored, and there is no reason why “Augusti” must be the
only title. If the abbreviated “Aug(usti)” was written, perhaps another
descriptor was included, like “Ger(manici)” or “divi f(ilius)”. All these
options could plausibly fit on the missing stone and have epigraphic
precedent. 97
The size of the original inscription and the spacing of the extant
“LC” allows for “DD” to be restored. “LCDD” is a standard abbreviation
in Latin epigraphy which expands to “L(ocus) C(oncessus) D(ecreto) D(ecu-
93 Flower, The Art of Forgetting: Disgrace & Oblivion in Roman Political Culture, 235–236.
Damnatio memoriae is, of course, a modern term for the ancient actions, and Flower (2006)
instead uses the term “memory sanctions.”
94 Balsdon and Levick, “Damnatio memoriae,” in Oxford Classical Dictionary.
95 Flower, The Art of Forgetting, 240.
96 Torrey, The Exiled God of Sarepta, 47; Visonà, Bilingual Inscriptions, 53; Lombardi, I Tirii Di
Puteoli e Il Dio Di Sarepta, 399; OGIS II 594; SEG XXXVI 923.
97 E.g. CIL VI 1984 (“Domitianus Aug(ustus) Ger(manicus)”); CIL II 4722 (“Divi f(ilius)”); CIL
XVI 37 (“Domitianus Augustus”).
78 Grace DeAngelis
rionum)” and indicates an inscription stood in a public location. 98 The
decuriones were councilors in charge of administering the governmental
affairs and public life of Roman coloniae and municipia (Puteoli was
a colonia; see p. 2). Each colonia and municipium had its own group of
decuriones who comprised the local senatus. 99 The fact that the phrase
“LCDD” appears in this inscription means that the land on which the
stone stood was overseen by the decuriones and officially allotted for the
Tyrians to use.
“LCDD” is acceptable for the present inscription because it is the
only Latin epigraphic abbreviation beginning with “LC” that is not an
individual’s name. 100 “Pro sal Imp” is also a standard epigraphic phrase,
where “sal” expands to the ablative “salute” and “imp” to the genitive “imperatoris.”
101
CONCLUSIONS
There are three main conclusions that can be drawn from the text
and physical state of the present inscription.
First, the Tyrians in Puteoli in the first century CE either did not
have the financial resources to commission an inscription aligned with
the widespread industry standard or did not care to spend their money
on one. 102 There are several mistakes in the layout of the text such
as the irregular spacing, the omission of a sigma between “[ἅγ]ιος” and
“<Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς],” and the tails on /Θ/ and /Ο/. These may be attrib-
98 Zimmer, Locus Datus Decreto Decurionum: Zur Statuenaufstellung Zweier Forumsanlagen
Im Römischen Afrika.
99 Sherwin-White et al., “Decuriones,” in Oxford Classical Dictionary.
100 Elliot, Abbreviations in Latin Inscriptions; Oxford Handbook of Roman Epigraphy, 793.
101 Elliot; Oxford Handbook of Roman Epigraphy, 792, 796.
102 For the standard planning and layout of inscriptions (which was called ordinatio), see
Edmondson, Inscribing Roman Texts, 117–121.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
79
utable to the stonecutter’s inattention or haste when transferring the
words from the draft to the stone. 103 The Latin letters seem to be done
in a cursive freehand. This could indicate either that the stonecutter
carved them without first making a draft (also testifying to his haste) or
perhaps that an untrained individual tried their hand at inscribing. 104
Second, I believe that the inscription itself was done in Puteoli by
a native Latin speaker, who made several errors when carving the Greek
words. The revealing errors are the misuse of a dative with “εἰς,” the /Θ/
and /Ο/ in line 4 written with the tail of a Latin /Q/, and the spelling of
“<Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς]” with an /ε/ instead of an /α/. A native Greek speaker
would know that “εἰς” takes the accusative; a non-Greek-speaking
stonecutter might misread the draft of the text, carve “εἰς” with a dative,
and not realize his mistake. Along the same logic, the tails mistakenly
carved onto /Θ/ and /Ο/ may demonstrate not only the stonecutter’s
haste but also his native Latin tongue as Greek has no letter which
would be inscribed with such a tail. 105
The misspelling of “<Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς]” also reflects direct influence
from Latin. In Latin, all extant literary sources present the name for this
city as “Sarepta” with /e/ in the second syllable. 106 In Greek, on the other
hand, it is “Σάραπτα” with /α/ in the second syllable. 107 Latin /e/ and /a/
103 For the process of drafting a text before carving, and for stonecutters’ errors between
the draft and inscription, see Edmondson, 117–118.
104 Edmondson, 115.
105 Poinikastas: Letter forms (accessed: March 16, 2022).
106 For the only literary example contemporary with the present inscription, see Pliny,
Natural History 5.76: “Sarepta.” According to the archives of the Thesaurus Linguae Latinae,
the same spelling (“Sarepta”) is retained in literary examples from Christian authors of late
antiquity, e.g. Venantius Fortunatus, Vita Sancti Martini 2.81. I acknowledge the assistance of
Dr. Adam Trettel from the Thesaurus Linguae Linguae, who located and provided the citations
of the Latin and Greek source material in this footnote and in footnote 107.
107 E.g. Achilles Tatius, Leucippe and Clitophon 2.5 (“Σαράπτοις”), 2.17 (“Σάραπτα”); Lycophron,
Alexandra 1300 (“Σαραπτίαν”).
80 Grace DeAngelis
corresponded to Greek /ε/ and /α/, respectively. 108 It is plausible that the
stonecutter’s knowledge of how “Sarepta” is pronounced and written
in Latin interfered with his copying of the Greek word “Σαράπτηνος.”
This could cause him to replace /α/ with /ε/ in the second syllable of
“Σαρέπτηνος” in the present inscription.
Although the carving may have been done by a native Latin craftsman,
I believe that the substance of the text was dictated by the Tyrians.
The inclusion of Tyrian dating conventions, the idiomatic Greek “ἐπι
ὑπάτων,” and the name “θεὸς [ἅγ]ιος <Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς],” which is found in
inscriptions from Phoenicia, all suggest that the content of the inscription
came from a person or group closely familiar with Tyrian culture
and the Greek language.
Finally, I believe that the text probably did not serve a religious
function, but a civic one. The phrase “θεὸς [ἅγ]ιος <Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς]” is in
the nominative and “κατέ[π]λευσεν” is in the third person, indicating
that the inscription is not an offering to the god but a description of
his actions. 109 Moreover, the abbreviation “L(ocus) C(oncessus) [D(ecreto)
D(ecurionum)]” in line 8 implies that the inscription stood in a publicly
viewable space. What space this was cannot be known certainly, but it
is plausible that it was mounted on the exterior of a building occupied
by the Tyrians, perhaps one which held the statue or cult objects of the
“holy god of Sarepta.”
The inclusion of Roman consular dating in line 1 and the imperial
dedication in line 7 also suggest that the inscription was intended to be
viewed by other Puteoleans, not just the Tyrians. If it were an inscription
for the Tyrians, it seems less plausible that they would waste money
and space on inscribing details about uniquely Roman governmen-
108 Sturtevant, The Pronunciation of Greek and Latin, 14, 21.
109 If the stone were meant to be an offering, presumably the phrase would be in the
dative. Cf. the instances of the phrase from Phoenicia, 13–15.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
81
tal structures. The word “Τυρίοις” in “Τυρίοις LΣΔ” suggests the same.
“Τυρίοις” was not included in other examples of this dating formula
with Tyrian provenience. 110 So, it is most likely that these Tyrians would
understand “LΣΔ” on its own to mean “in the 204th year.” They probably
included “Τυρίοις” to provide clarification for the non-Tyrian audience
of the inscription.
Thus, the text might be considered as an expression of Tyrian
cultural identity in a Roman context. Features like the phrase “Τυρίοις
LΣΔ” (which is in much larger lettering than the Roman consular dating),
the date “[μ]ηνὸς ἀρ[τεμ]ισίου IA” (instead of the equivalent date
in Roman conventions 111 ), and the explicitly foreign god “θεὸς [ἅγ]ιος
<Σ>αρεπτηνό[ς]” all underscore that the Tyrians in Puteoli intended to
display their cultural heritage to the broader Puteolean community.
This may also explain why Domitian’s name was not erased. During his
time as emperor, Domitian granted the official status of μητρόπολις of
Phoenicia to the city of Tyre, which became a significant point of civic
pride for the Tyrians. 112 At the same time, other features in the inscription
like the inclusion of consular dating, the dedication to the emperor,
and acknowledgment of the decree of the decuriones suggest that the
Tyrians were also attempting to assimilate themselves into the civic order
of colonial Puteoli.
Perhaps this inscription was not created with the highest degree
of epigraphic refinement, and certainly much of the information it
originally provided has been lost to the passage of time. Regardless, it
holds immense value for students of the ancient world, as it demonstrates
both how the Tyrians in Puteoli interacted with their linguistically
and culturally diverse community and how they negotiated their
110 Cf. the examples discussed above, p. 9.
111 This would be “ante diem quartum kalendas iunias.”
112 Hirt, Beyond Greece and Rome: Foundation Myths on Tyrian Coinage in the Third Century AD,
198.
82 Grace DeAngelis
position within Mediterranean commerce now dominated by the Roman
empire.
The Tyrians in Puteoli
83
ABBREVIATIONS
CIL
Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum.
IGRR
Inscriptiones Graecae ad res romanas pertinentes, edited by Cagnat, R.,
Toutain, J., Jouguet, P., and Lafaye, G. 3 vols. Paris: La Librairie Ernest
Leroux, 1906–1927.
IGUR
Inscriptiones Graecae Urbis Romae, edited by Moretti, L. 4 vols. Rome: Istituto
Italiano per la Storia Antica, 1968–1990.
OGIS
Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae, edited by Dittenberger, W. 2 vols.
Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1903–1905.
SEG
Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum.
84 Grace DeAngelis
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luctus sonitus
Elizabeth Hadley
90 luctus sonitus
Anyone, I am:
noise,
refracted
through bones.
My decay
echoes only.
Tragic,
am I?
This poem is from the perspective of Echo
from Ovid’s Metamorphoses; the poem,
including the title (“grief of Sound”
Dartmouth College
I am
tragic,
only echoes.
Decay my bones
through refracted noise—
am I anyone?
91 sonitus luctus
and “Sound of grief ”), can be
read both forwards and backwards—an
echo of itself.
92 Autumn Greene
THE WORSHIP OF HELEN
OF TROY IN LACONIA
Autumn Greene
College of Liberal Arts at the University of Texas at Austin
Helen of Troy is perhaps one of the most enigmatic characters from
Greek history and mythology, best known as the Mycenaean queen of
Sparta taken to Troy by Paris, thus starting the Trojan War. The debate
over whether she came to Troy voluntarily or by force has been a point
of contention since the creation of her story between the 12th and 8th
centuries BCE. In the Iliad and Odyssey, she is portrayed as a pious and
penitent, fiery and clever woman, influencing later writers to ascribe
to her completely conflicting personalities. This discrepancy raises the
question of how she was viewed in her native land of Sparta from the
8th century BCE—when her primary shrine was built—until it fell into
disrepair during the Hellenistic and Roman periods. Although Sparta
was not yet a military powerhouse, nor did it boast many examples of
monumental architecture like Athens or Corinth, it was home to four
predominant cult sites: one to Apollo, one to Artemis Orthia, one to
Athena, and one to Helen. Thus, Helen seems to have been a prominent
figure in Spartan religion, her worship furthering the city state's goals
of political prominence, regional hegemony, and success in warfare.
This paper will attempt to explain both how a controversial, even vilified,
character such as Helen could have been seen by the notoriously
austere Spartans, and why she was worshiped there.
It is widely accepted among scholars that well before Helen became
the catalyst for the Trojan War, she was a regional divinity native to Laconia.
Because of this origin, it is important to discuss who she was and
to trace the transition from goddess to mortal and back to goddess. It
Worship of Helen
93
has been theorized that Helen falls into an archetype first seen with the
Proto-Indo-Europeans: the daughter of the most powerful god in the
pantheon who is intimately connected with a set of twins known for
their ability as horsemen. 1 From here, it is unclear if Helen evolved into
a vegetation and fertility goddess or was made mortal first. We will assume
that she was a vegetation goddess before the de-apotheosis that
accompanied the Trojan War, as it seems unlikely that her later cults
would have as deep a connection with nature as they did if she were not
a vegetation goddess first.
As for her evolution to a mortal, M.L. West theorizes that Homer
made her mortal to add more drama to his narrative, but this seems
counterintuitive, as the kidnapping of a goddess would be significantly
more compelling and would better justify waging a ten-year war. 2 Additionally,
in the early phases of the composition of the stories that would
become the Iliad and the Odyssey, Helen’s epithets were used predominantly
to refer to goddesses. The greater appeal of a kidnapped goddess
narrative and the attribution of Helen’s epithets to divinities together
indicate that Helen may have still been a goddess when the narrative
of the Trojan Cycle first developed. Why Homer or other bards would
demote her in the narrative is unclear, 3 but Helen may be one of the only
mortals who is continually described in the same manner as divinities,
making it unlikely that she was made mortal before, or even in the early
stages of, the creation of the narrative of the Trojan War. She is described
as λευκώλενος, or “white-armed,” 4 a term predominantly used
1 Jaszczyński, “Indo-European Roots of the Helen of Troy,” 15-20; Edmunds “Helen’s Divine
Origins,” 2-11
2 West, Immortal Helen, 6-8.
3 The idea that Helen was demoted to a mortal during the creation of the Trojan Cycle is
discussed in M.L. West’s Immortal Helen. This variation could also be due to regional variation,
as Homer was from Ionia.
4 Iliad 3.121
94 Autumn Greene
in reference to Hera, and κούρη Διός 5 or Διὸς θυγάτηρ, 6 both of which
loosely mean “daughter of Zeus,” used when referring to Athena and
Aphrodite.
This evidence can be interpreted as showing that Helen was made
mortal at some point during the creation of the Trojan War narrative,
and was then re-deified into a vegetation and fertility goddess very
quickly following Homer’s writing the Iliad and Odyssey. It has also been
proposed that Helen was a “faded goddess.” Clader argues that, by the
time of Homer, much of the religiosity surrounding the mythology had
been stripped and much of myth was converted into an artistic genre. 7
During this process, Helen’s “divinity [had] been eroded through countless
years of artistic treatment.” 8 But this interpretation suggests that
much of the ancient religion was simply used as a form of art, rather
than an active belief system by the 8th century BCE, and it neglects the
goddess-like epithets attributed to her in the Odyssey and Iliad. Even
though it has been possible to piece together some of her history due
to how conveniently she fits into various mythological tropes, Spartan
xenophobia and lack of epigraphical evidence have left archaeologists
and historians with little evidence for how exactly Helen evolved over
time and what may have caused her evolution.
It is widely accepted that a Proto-Indo-European (PIE) goddess was
the blueprint for Helen and her mythology. This theory stems from the
connections between Helen and the so-called PIE ‘Daughter of the Sun,’
who was similarly kidnapped and was closely connected with a set of
twins, though in the case of the Daughter of the Sun, she was married
to the twins rather than related to them. 9 The Proto-Indo-European in-
5 Il. 3.199, 3.418; Odyssey 4.184, 219; 23.218.
6 Od. 4.227.
7 Clader, Helen: The Evolution from Divine to Heroic in Greek Epic Tradition, 1-3.
8 Clader, 2, 82.
9 Jaszczyński goes into more detail about the various goddesses that have been connect-
Worship of Helen
95
fluences could also explain Helen’s parentage (her father being Zeus),
her birth from an egg, and even the origins of her name, all of which
stem from or are closely related to the original PIE mythology. The origins
of her name have been debated for decades and will likely never
be resolved with current evidence, but some propose that it stems
from the Proto-Indo-European root swel meaning ‘to shine’ 10 or the later
Greek terms εἵλη and ἕλη meaning ‘sunshine’ or ‘sun’s heat.’ Further,
ἐλάνη ‘torch’ has also been proposed as a probable etymological root
for her name. 11 All of these possible origins are in some way or another
connected with the idea of the sun or flames, further demonstrating a
connection with Proto-Indo-European mythology.
How Helen evolved from a Proto-Indo-European solar divinity
into a vegetation and fertility goddess is uncertain, but she did transition
at some point. This is made clear through several of Helen’s cults’
inherent connection to vegetation, as in the case of the Cult of Helen
Dendrites, meaning “Helen of the tree,” at Rhodes, and the Platanistas
Cult, 12 which will be discussed later in this essay. This transition is
also evident from the dedications found at the Menelaion, Helen’s main
center of worship in Laconia: pendants in the shapes of a pomegranate,
poppy seeds, an ox head, a mouse figurine, a sickle, and two plowshares
that were likely intended to elicit Helen’s favor and perhaps her
assistance for an abundant harvest. 13 Beyond evidence found at her cult
sites, there is also a deep connection between Helen and other fertility
ed with Helen and how various light and sun-related images have come to be connected
with her.
10 West, Indo-European Poetry and Myth, 231.
11 Jaszczyński, 12, 13.
12 Edmunds, “Helen’s Divine Origins,” 11-15, 36-37. Edmunds describes how Platanistas’
being a tree-cult is likely inherently indicative of a vegetation goddess and explains the
connections and similarities between Helen, Ariadne, and Persephone.
13 Catling, “Excavations at the Menelaion, Sparta, 1973-1976,” 38-39; Pavlides, “Hero-Cult
in Archaic and Classical Sparta: A Study of Local Religion,” 38. Catling and Pavlides do not
offer an interpretation for these votive offerings.
96 Autumn Greene
and vegetation goddesses such as Persephone and Ariadne, 14 who was
also a local goddess kidnapped by Theseus and later made a mortal by
ancient Greek historians.
There is, of course, another aspect of Helen: that of her role in marriage
and the marriageability of young women. Though not wholly disconnected
from her role as a fertility goddess, this aspect does not seem
to have been influenced by her PIE roots; rather it seems to have evolved
to be of special importance during the late Archaic and early Classical
Periods. For this particular theory, there are two main sources of evidence:
lead figurines found at the Menelaion likely dating to the 5th
and 6th centuries BCE, 15 as well as a passage from Herodotus written
during the 5th century BCE. While many lead figurines of several different
types were found at the Menelaion, the most common by far was
that of the spiked wreath. 16 This shape has been interpreted as a symbol
of marriage and is found on a variety of artifacts, including a Geometric
Period vase found in Athens thought to depict Paris’s abduction of
Helen. 17 By leaving a spiked wreath votive offering, an ancient Spartan
woman was likely asking Helen to bless her marriage or to help find her
a suitable husband.
The other source of evidence that we have relating to Helen’s role
in marriages is a story told by Herodotus. In this passage, Herodotus
details the story of the third wife of King Ariston. As a child, the woman’s
nurse considered her to be the ugliest child in Laconia, and so this
nurse decided to take the child every day to the Menelaion. Every time
the nurse carried the child there, she set the girl beside the cult statue
14 West, Immortal Helen, 6
15 Pavlides, 39-40.
16 Catling, 16; Cavanagh, “Lead Figurines from the Menelaion and Seriation,” 23. Though
Cavanagh does not go into much detail about the lead wreaths, he does mention that well
over half of the approximately 6,000 lead figurines found at the Menelaion were spiked
wreaths.
17 Clader, 78.
Worship of Helen
97
of Helen and begged her to make the child beautiful. One day as the
nurse was leaving Therapnē, the location of this shrine, a woman, supposedly
Helen, appeared to her and asked her what she was carrying
in her arms. The nurse showed her the child, and the woman stroked
the child's head and said that she would be the most beautiful woman
in all of Sparta. 18 The most widely drawn conclusion from this story is
that Helen was involved in making women more beautiful, which was
an attribute valued in Spartan society, 19 and, as a result of that beauty,
making her more desirable in marriage and thus perhaps helping her
attain more social power and a prosperous life.
WORSHIP AT THE MENELAION
In Laconia, the worship of heroes was just as common as the worship
of deities, 20 and these hero cults were particularly popular in Sparta,
likely due to the value placed on exceptionalism and the direct connection
with heroes such as Agamemnon and Orestes. Within a hero
cult, the hero was venerated at either their tomb or a designated shrine,
and generally they were worshiped because it was believed that their
deeds during life or their unusual manner of death gave them the power
to protect the living. 21 They are not Olympians, but rather are Chthonic
in nature, and often only have power over the territory surrounding
their cult sites, unlike gods who retain their power no matter their lo-
18 Herodotus., Hist. 6.61.3-5.
19 Pomeroy, Spartan Women, 132, 133. Spartan women were encouraged to exercise in the
nude regularly so as to produce stronger, healthier children, and as a result Sparta gained
a reputation for producing the most beautiful women in Greece. It was called Σπάρτην
καλλιγύναικα, translated as: Sparta, land of lovely women.
20 Pausanias, Description of Greece 3.15.3. Pausanias gives a detailed description of some of
the shrines and monuments found at Platanistas, which included shrines to Heracles and
Helen and the tomb of Alcman.
21 Martin, An Overview of Classical Greek History from Mycenae to Alexander: Hero Cults.
Martin discusses the definition and significance of hero cults throughout Greece and some
of the rituals and beliefs associated with them.
98 Autumn Greene
cation. A hero was thought to be more than human but less than a god.
However, the distinction between hero and god was often blurred, as
was the case with the Dioscuri and Helen herself at the Menelaion.
One of four major cult sites in Sparta, the Menelaion was the main
center of worship dedicated to Helen. It is thought to have been originally
built in the 8th century BCE, around the time when the Iliad and
Odyssey would have been transcribed for the first time. Therapnē, is a
rocky outcropping on a hill about five kilometers southeast of Sparta.
It is also the supposed location of the burial or palace of Helen and
Menelaus, though no tomb has ever been found there. 22 This has been
proposed as an explanation as to why the Menelaion was constructed in
that particular location.
The temple was built, rebuilt, and expanded upon in a series of
phases, the first of which would have been little more than walls, a roof,
and an altar; this process is attested archaeologically by scattered limestone
blocks, painted pottery, bronzes, and lead figurines dating to the
8th and 7th centuries that were found at the site. 23 It’s not clear whether
this version was demolished or fell into ruin, but by the early 6th century
BCE, another limestone temple with terracotta roof tiles was built
over the ruins of the original shrine. This version survived until the 5th
century BCE when it was demolished and replaced by the third phase
of the Menelaion, whose ruins are visible to this day. 24 A wrap-around
ramp that acted as a porch was later added to this third phase, which
would have looked relatively similar to, although significantly smaller
and less ornate than, other Classical Period temples around the Mediterranean
world. 25
22 Catling, 35.
23 Catling, 35.
24 Catling, 36-37.
25 Catling, 35-42.
Worship of Helen
99
During his 1973–1976 seasons at the Menelaion, Hector Catling
found two of the only inscriptions from the site which date to the 7th
and 6th centuries BCE respectively. The first was a bronze aryballos, a
perfume jar, with an inscription stating, “Deinis offered to Helen, wife
of Menelaus.” The other artifact was a bronze harpax, thought to be a
meat hook, dating to 570 BCE, which also had an inscription on it stating
that it was dedicated ΤΑΙ FΕΛΕΝΑ(Ι) “to Helen.” 26 These inscriptions
make it clear not only to whom the shrine was dedicated to, but also
that the shrine was Helen’s alone; she was worshiped independent of
Menelaus likely up until the early 5th century BCE. 27
In his Encomium of Helen written in the early 4th century BCE, Isocrates
claims that Helen and Menelaus were worshiped as gods at the
Menelaion, but Lowell Edmunds claims that the site better fits the definition
of a hero cult. Edmunds’ defense of this position lies primarily
in the fact that deities by definition cannot die—Helen and Menelaus
were thought to be buried at the Menelaion—and a reanalysis of Isocrates’
writing in which he claims the Encomium to supports the idea that
Helen was worshiped as a heroine. 28 Though this argument seems to fall
flat when Isocrates also writes in his Encomium that Helen raised the
Dioscuri from the dead and granted them immortality. 29
On the other side of this debate, Robert Parker defends the idea
that Helen would have been worshiped at Therapnē as a goddess. He
claims that “[t]he excavations[at the Menelaion] have also produced
much to support, and nothing to contradict, Isocrates’ assertion.” 30 His
26 Catling, 14.
27 Catling, 36-37. The discovery of a limestone stele dating to the early 5th century
bearing the name of Menelaus is the first evidence of the worship of Menelaus at the
Menelaion.
28 Catling, 12; Pomeroy, 114; Paus. 3.19.9.
29 Isoc., Encomium of Helen, 10.61.
30 Parker, “The Cult of Helen and Menelaos in the Spartan Menelaion,” 2.
100 Autumn Greene
source of support for this argument is that the stone terrace at the Menelaion
is significantly larger and grander than other hero cults found
at Sparta. The Menelaion, though it is quite simple, is elaborate by
Spartan standards and is comparable only to the temples dedicated to
Artemis Orthia and Apollo in the same region. Parker also relates that
many analogies have been drawn between the votive offerings found at
the Menelaion and those found at the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia. This
claim is supported by Linda Lee Clader, who argues that the similarity
between the offerings suggests either a similarity between the divinities
worshiped or a relationship between the rituals performed at the
two sites. 31
Another bit of evidence Parker uses to support his argument that
Helen was worshiped as a goddess, is, surprisingly, a lack of material
evidence found at the shrine at Therapnē. The hero cult site where
Agamemnon and Cassandra were worshiped just south of Amyclae
starkly contrasts with the Menelaion. In the sanctuary of Agamemnon,
hundreds of hero reliefs were found. Similarly, these stone hero reliefs
were discovered at many Laconian hero cults. 32 Thus far, no example of a
hero-relief has been found at sanctuaries and temples devoted to divinities
in Sparta. However, there is disagreement over whether they are
present at the Menelaion. Finding none, Parker concludes “the absence
of the type is a mark of the status of Helen and Menelaus as gods.” 33
Gina Salapata, however, claims that one relief was found depicting a
female triad, but she admits that this plaque was significantly different
from those found at other hero cults and was not meant to be a depiction
of Helen but rather a representation of a mythological trio such as
31 Clader, 69 argues that the Menelaion was likely originally dedicated to Helen by
herself, and she notes the similarities between the Phi-shaped terracotta and female
horse-rider figurines found at the Menelaion and the sanctuary to Artemis Orthia.
32 Salapata, “Female Triads on Laconian Terracotta Plaques,” 1-3.
33 Parker, 3.
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101
the Fates or the Graeae. 34 This one relief and its artistic style as well as
subject matter stand in contrast to the many found at the Sanctuary of
Agamemnon and Cassandra depicting the two together. Thus, the lack
of hero reliefs found there seems to support the idea of Helen’s divinity.
Finally, to support the argument that Helen was revered as a deity,
Pavlides claims that the archaeological evidence found at the Menelaion
shows that the cult began in the 7th century BCE as a hero cult, similar
to others in Sparta, including the cult of Agamemnon and Cassandra,
and likely evolved into a sanctuary to a goddess. This theory could
account for the one hero relief Salapata identified at the Menelaion.
Pavlides suggests that the cult of Helen and Menelaus must therefore
have become divine at a later period, 35 probably by the time of Herodotus
in the 5th century BCE, 36 and certainly by the 4th century BCE,
when Isocrates gives an account of the Menelaion, which seems to signify
that the cult site was likely dedicated to divinities. 37 Perhaps, then,
the best classification is that Helen belonged to the class of people, such
as Ariadne and Dionysus, who, rather than dying, became immortals. 38
Why this transition from heroic to divine took place is open to interpretation,
but it should be noted that Helen was the only mortal daughter
of Zeus. Therefore, it can be theorized that becoming a divinity was her
34 Salapata 2, 9 also describes how the plaque found at the Menelaion was one of two
plaques found in Laconia that was sculpted in a different style and the three figures have
their hands by their sides in contrast to other plaques found at the Cult of Agamemnon and
Cassandra, in which the figures are holding hands and are likely dancing. These differences
likely signify that, while it may not be older than others found at the Cult of Agamemnon,
the plaque from the Menelaion was likely transitional and exploratory. This could imply
that it was an exploratory or foreign individual that made the two plaques, or the plaque
could have been dedicated before the Menelaion made its transition from a hero cult to a
cult dedicated to a divinity.
35 Pavlides, 47.
36 Hdt., Hist. 6.61.3 mentions a cult statue.
37 Isoc., Encomium of Helen, confirms that rituals and sacrifices were given there
38 Further evidence for Helen being worshiped at the Menelaion as a goddess can be
found in Eur., Hel. 1665-1670.
102 Autumn Greene
birthright as the sole human daughter of Zeus or that her heritage at
least played a role, particularly since her future immortality is implied
in the Odyssey. 39
Though the material evidence found at the Menelaion has been relatively
minimal, pottery sherds found there by Catiling indicate that
the Menelaion was in continuous use for approximately 700 years. 40
Based on the reconstruction of many of these sherds, the most common
vase shapes were wine amphorae and lekainae, a type of Laconian
drinking cup. 41 When one considers Isocrates’ claims about sacrifices
being made to Helen at the Menelaion, the uses of these pots become
clearer; 42 they were likely used for sacrifices and potentially subsequent
feasts held at the Menelaion in honor of Helen and Menelaus. The wine
amphorae and drinking cups would have likely been used for libations
and drinking alongside the feast, though this interpretation of the rituals
held at the Menelaion is disputable. It is possible that the amphorae
and lekainae were given only as offerings, but when one considers that
most shrines in Greece had some form of sacrifice and feasting ritual, it
is likely that they would have been held at Therapnē as well.
Very little is known about the rituals that would have been performed
at the Menelaion, but it seems as though there was a festival
in Sparta that was likely held in honor of Helen called the Ἑλένια or
Heleneia. According to Hesychius, during the Ἑλένια, young women
would carry baskets to the temple of Helen at Therapnē in a procession,
43 and the maidens would often ride on mules or in chariots made
39 Hom., Od. 4.561-9. The meaning of this passage has been much debated. It is uncertain
whether it indicates that Menelaus and Helen will be in Elysium or made immortal and
whether Helen is also included in Proteus’ prophecy, but this does not negate the fact that
later authors believed them to be apotheosized upon their deaths.
40 Catling, 13.
41 Catling, 16.
42 Isoc., Encomium of Helen.
43 Hesych. 335.
Worship of Helen
103
of reeds. 44 The Ἑλένια is not well attested in ancient literature, but Hesych.
335 seems to refer to a festival held at Therapnē: a ‘festival of the
Θεξαπλᾶηηο,’ meaning Therapnatideia. The name of this festival indicates
an association with the Menelaion at Therapnē, and, as Parker
points out, “we are left to guess whether it was identical with the Heleneia.”
45 However, because Hesychius, a grammarian from the 5th or 6th
centuries CE during the Slavic invasion of Sparta, is the only author to
have attested the Heleneia, there is little secure evidence that a festival
of this sort ever existed.
WORSHIP AT PLATANISTAS
Across the Eurotas River lies the other cult site dedicated to Helen
in Laconia. Much less is known about this one, as there are no physical
remains, and we must rely wholly on literary sources to piece together
the various aspects of the cult to Helen at Platanistas. We have no concrete
evidence for the foundation of this cult, but if the written accounts
are to be trusted, this cult would date to when Helen would have lived, 46
approximately 1150 BCE, making it significantly older than the Menelaion.
Another notable difference between Platanistas and Therapnē is
that we know definitively that the Platanistas cult was a hero cult.
Platanistas seems to have been a popular site for religious festivals
and worship. Pausanias describes it as filled with hero cults and
temples dedicated to Heracles, Athena, the Dioscuri, and Helen, and
the tomb of the Spartan poet Alcman as well as a dromos that would
have been used for festivals and races to honor the heroes and deities
44 Clader, 75 describes aspects of the Heleneia, which, although they are believed to be
the same festival, she calls by another name, that is, the Helenephoria. She also uses this
festival as a way of connecting the cult of Helen with the cult of Artemis due to the use of
baskets, which Clader says can also be found in the cult of Artemis at Brauron.
45 Parker, 20.
46 Theoc., Id. 18.44-46.
104 Autumn Greene
whose shrines were found there. 47 A vague description of the location
of a shrine to Helen can be found in Theocritus’ Epithalamium, in which
he describes the shrine as being surrounded by plane-trees, suggesting
the location of Helen’s second cult site was near Platanistas, which
means “plane-tree.” 48 Despite much literary evidence, there is little to
no archaeological evidence of the site of the Platanistas cult, making it
likely that the building was made of perishable materials that left little
trace after their destruction or abandonment. From the ancient literary
sources, though, it is generally understood that the sanctuary at Platanistas
was dedicated to a different version of Helen than the Menelaion
was. Where the Menelaion was devoted to an older post-Trojan cycle
Helen, Platanistas was dedicated to a younger Helen who was freshly
married and was celebrated for her apparent excellence in almost anything
she attempted. 49
Much more is known about the rituals performed at the plane-tree
sanctuary at Platanistas than those performed at the Menelaion. Aristophanes
and Euripides have associated Helen and her Platanistas cult
with dances performed by maidens that would have taken place near
the Eurotas, and both Alcman and Aristophanes compare the young
Spartan dancers to wild mares and to dionysiades, the female worshipers
of Dionysus. 50 While this would likely have been a public event that
anyone could view, only young, unmarried girls were allowed to participate
in the dancing, as it was believed that Helen, too, participated in
such rituals prior to her marriage to Menelaus.
Another integral part of the cult of Helen at Platanistas was the
47 Paus., Description of Greece 3.15.3.
48 Theoc., Id. 18.
49 Calame, Choruses of Young Women in Ancient Greece: Their Morphology, Religious Role, and
Social Functions; Flower, “Spartan Religion,” 442-443. Both Calame and Flower mention that
at Platanistas, a premarital version of Helen was worshiped, but they fail to discuss and explore
the significance behind the versions of Helen worshiped at Therapnē and Platanistas.
50 Alcm.,fr. 1.43-59, 3.8-9
Worship of Helen
105
ritual races. As Michael Flower suggests, foot races seem to have been
particularly connected to the worship of Helen in Laconia. 51 In his poem
Idylls, Theocritus mentions a footrace along the Eurotas that was meant
to honor Helen, 52 as Helen herself was thought to have participated in a
similar race and supposedly stood out among the girls racing. 53 Though
Theocritus placed the race on the banks of the Eurotas River, other
interpretations have been offered. One of these is that the race likely
took place in the nearby Dromos, where the men and boys would have
trained and raced in honor of Helen’s brothers, the Dioscuri, and other
gods and heroes. 54
The final key element of the rituals, as described by Theocritus, included
twelve unmarried young women singing as they decorated a
plane-tree near Helen’s sanctuary with wreaths of lotus flowers, carved
Helen’s name into the tree, and poured out libations of oil on the roots
of the tree. 55 As Edmunds points out, these rituals correspond to activities
referred to in connection with competitive races where participants
anoint themselves with oil and gather flowers for garlands. These
rituals at the tree therefore commemorate the Helen who was once a
part of their group, who is now leaving for marriage. The garlands consist
of the flowers she would have helped gather with her friends, and
the oil is the oil with which she would have anointed herself as she prepared
for races. 56
51 Flower, 442.
52 Theoc., Id. 18; Flower, “Spartan Religion,” 442.
53 Calame, Choruses of Young Women in Ancient Greece: Their Morphology, Religious Role, and
Social Functions, chap. 3 section 2.4-2.5.
54 Calame, chap. 3 section 2.4-2.5. Though ancient sources claim these races took place
along the banks of the Eurotas, Calame, after analysing the geography of Platanistas,
comes to the conclusion that, instead, the Dromos, which was situated near Helen’s sanctuary,
was the most likely location of these races.
55 Theoc., Id. 18.
56 Edmunds, “Helen’s Divine Origins,” 15.
106 Autumn Greene
Notably, the cults of Helen at Sparta seem to only be dedicated to
Pre- and Post-Trojan War Helen; in neither of her cults is she worshiped
as the woman who traveled to Troy, though it would be nearly impossible
to separate Trojan-War-Helen and Post-Trojan-War-Helen at her
cult at the Menelaion. Nevertheless, this makes it unclear as to whether
the Spartans accepted Helen and all of her complicated history, tried to
rehabilitate this history, or ignored it altogether.
PURPOSE FOR WORSHIP
Helen was a significant woman in mythology and history. She is
a figure from the ‘Age of Heroes’ who was directly and indirectly connected
with Perseus, Theseus, Heracles, Achilles, Agamemnon, Odysseus,
and, of course, Menelaus. The Helen depicted in the Iliad and
works based on the Trojan Cycle is often characterized as unfaithful,
shallow, wicked, and even blood-thirsty. In the Odyssey, she is depicted
in a better light, but she is still shown as deceitful and is even deemed
“worthless” or “shameless” depending on the translation. 57 She is simultaneously
victim and villain. Why would the Spartans have dedicated
multiple cult sites to such a variable figure? Helen’s being from Sparta
brought the city legitimacy and centered it within the Trojan narrative
and, by extension, the Greek world. Men from around the Greek world
came to fight with Sparta and help regain its lost queen, thereby making
the city-state a power within the Mediterranean world, thrusting
Sparta into the spotlight, and validating their position in Greek politics.
Furthermore, the building of the Menelaion seems to coincide with
Sparta’s victory in the First Messenian War, and construction on the
third phase of the Menelaion began shortly after the ultimately successful
Second Persian War. This seems to indicate a potential connection
between the shrine and victory in war. It is unclear whether these ar-
57 Hom., Od. 4.138-234
Worship of Helen
107
chitectural advancements were because the Spartans believed that Helen
and Menelaus had supported them in battle, because the state had
more funds after a victory, or a combination of these possibilities, but
it should be considered that both Helen and Menelaus were connected
with one of the most defining Greek victories in their history and mythology.
Helen may have also been used as a medium for Sparta to lay claim
to their pre-Dorian past, as they did through the movement of the bones
of Orestes to Sparta. A key difference between Helen and Orestes is that
Helen was Spartan by birth. Therefore, she likely would not have been
used as a way to forge alliances with other groups in the Peloponnese as
Orestes and perhaps Menelaus were. By acknowledging and claiming
the connection with Helen, Sparta is giving itself legitimacy, much like
Athens did in claiming the patronage of and naming itself after Athena
and like Argos did in claiming descent from Argus. By connecting itself
with Helen and other heroic figures, Sparta makes itself an important
part of the past and its relative present, and it justifies its subjugation
of neighboring peoples and its hegemony over much of Greece. Though
these points raise the question again: why Helen? Would Menelaus not
work just as well—and perhaps even better since he is generally portrayed
in a much more positive light?
Many modern scholars, such as Alfred Heubeck, claim that Helen
was crass and her lack of sons strained her relationship with Menelaus.
58
It should be acknowledged, though, that Heubeck’s claim that Helen
behaves improperly is likely based on an Athens-centric view of how
women in ancient Greece should act. According to mythology, Helen
was born and raised in Sparta as its princess and later queen: surely she
knew how to act properly in this court. To add to this, Helen is not an
outlier among Spartan women; her actions are comparable to others,
58 Heubeck, A Commentary on Homer's "Odyssey.", 200-204
108 Autumn Greene
such as Gorgo and Agiatis. 59 Similarly, while Menelaus would have expected
a son to inherit the kingship, it has already been shown that the
line of succession can be passed on to women, in Sparta at least, seeing
as Helen and Menelaus, rather than the Dioscuri, inherited rule over
Sparta.
With this in mind, I would suggest that Spartans worshiped Helen,
instead of Menelaus, for many reasons; the fact that she was already
venerated at Sparta before the invention of the Trojan Cycle is not the
least among these. 60 As argued above, she also augmented Sparta’s military
reputation and political legitimacy. Menelaus did not have this
legitimacy, nor did he have the same connection to Sparta that Helen
did. The first evidence we have of Menelaus-centric worship is from 5th
century BCE, several centuries after the Menelaion was built; based on
this chronology as well as the fact that an archaic incarnation of Menelaus
doesn’t appear in Proto-Indo-European mythology, he was not a
part of the early Spartan pantheon the way Helen was. Thus, regardless
of her supposed flaws, Helen was a natural choice for relatively largescale
worship in Laconia.
The Menelaion was one of four major cult sites within Sparta,
suggesting that Helen was an important part of the Spartan pantheon
despite being a very conflicting and vilified character within Greek
mythology. But this is not wholly unexpected as evidence of her previous
incarnations as both a solar deity and a vegetation goddess can be
found in the offerings and rituals of both her cults. Her continued importance
within Laconia likely stems from how she could be used by the
Spartans, who used her to center themselves within the Mediterranean
world. It also seems that within their cults, the Spartans did not alter
her character, but may have instead accepted or ignored the period of
59 Pomeroy, Spartan Women, 75-93
60 The main source of evidence for this is the etymology of her name and the various
similarities between Helen and the Proto-Indo-European Daughter of the Sun.
Worship of Helen
109
her life surrounding the events of the Trojan Cycle. Helen’s abduction
did not seem to lessen her integrity or make her less worthy of worship
in the eyes of the Laconians and was likely a contributing factor to the
importance and scale of her worship in Sparta.
110 Autumn Greene
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THE MAENAD
Emilie James / University of King's College
Digital
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