Durham University Department of Classics & Ancient History: MA Greek Epigraphy Poster Exhibition '21 by durhamclassics

Department of Classics & Ancient History, Durham University www.durham.ac.uk/classics Master’s Degree: Greek Epigraphy Poster Exhibition

Students on our MA in Classics and MA in Greece, Rome and the Near East produced posters as one of their assignments for our module in Greek Epigraphy. Since we were unable to hold a physical exhibition of their work this year, we have created this online poster display. We hope you enjoy it!

Images included in the posters here are used for non-commercial educational purposes under fair dealing. None of the material included in this exhibition should be reproduced or disseminated without permission.

MIRACULOUS CURES OF BLINDNESS IN THE EPIDAURIAN IAMATA IG IV (1)² 121 Built in the early 4th Century, the Sanctuary of Asclepius at Epidaurus (in the Peloponnese) lies around 7km from the town of Epidaurus itself (Rhodes, Osborne, 2003, 538). Presumably deriving from the verb ἰάομαι (I heal), the Epidaurian iamata (singular: iama) comprise four stelai, (conveniently labelled ‘A’, ‘B’, ‘C’, and ‘D’), upon which approximately 70 (LiDonnici, 1992, 26) individual healing narratives are carved. Episodic in structure, the tales are neither symptomatically linked nor grouped. Afflictions that the stelai’s patients endure range from tapeworms to baldness. Visiting suppliants awaiting cure would often spend a night in the temple’s abaton, a sacred, thus often exclusive area. However, one benefit of the iamata as Dillon (2014, 247) states, is that “What was experienced in the abaton, intended purely for the eyes of the consultants, can now become the focus of discussion.” Excavations of the Epidaurian Asclepeion began in 1881 under the leadership of Greek archaeologist, Panagiotis Kavvadias (LiDonnici, 1995, 15), as part of an ongoing project running until 1928. This early dated excavation period renders images (unlike, thankfully, scholarship) on the iamata scarce- Kavvadias’ image from 1900 (Fig.2) depicting Stele A more distantly. According to Błaśkiewicz (2014, 55), fragments of stelai A, B and D were originally discovered in 1883 around the eastern section of Epidaurus’ abaton. Broken up and repurposed as spolia, they filled the walls of a Medieval house. Stele C was discovered in 1900, broken into two parts and used to form a threshold. It was then united with A, B and D to complete the collection. Pausanias’ 2nd Century A.D. account of his visit to the temple of Asclepius describes six stelai, and more still, which he claims existed earlier. “στῆλαι δὲ εἱστήκεσαν ἐντὸς τοῦ περιβόλου τὸ μὲν ἀρχαῖον καὶ πλέονες, ἐπ᾽ ἐμοῦ δὲ ἓξ λοιπαί: ταύταις ἐγγεγραμμένα καὶ ἀνδρῶν καὶ γυναικῶν ἐστιν ὀνόματα ἀκεσθέντων ὑπὸ τοῦ Ἀσκληπιοῦ, προσέτι δὲ καὶ νόσημα ὅ τι ἕκαστος ἐνόσησε καὶ ὅπως ἰάθη: γέγραπται δὲ φωνῇ τῇ Δωρίδι. (Paus. 2.27.3-4). However, Kavvadias’ initial excavation yielded only the four. Though generally reliable, Pausanias attests at 2.27.4 that the script is Doric. However, secondary examinations conclude that the stelai opt for “Argolic Doric with some Atticisms” (Rhodes, Osborne, 2003, 532), a melange which perhaps reflects the broad geographic stretch of Epidaurus’ visiting suppliants. Stelai A and B have garnered the most significant scholarly attention, simply due to C and D’s extensive damage, rendering it difficult to yield reliable information (Edelsteins, 1945, 229). This project focuses on two of Stele A’s twenty narratives (nos. 4 and 11). Both depict the healing of suppliants who, for different reasons are blinded, yet pitied and subsequently relieved of their ailment by Asclepius. Blindness is the modal affliction of Stele A’s suppliants, appearing as the chief concern in five out of twenty cases. The ailment also appears at nos. 9, 18 and 20, though in these accounts, the reason for their blindness is not made explicit. PHYSICAL PROPERTIES: Material: Limestone rock, which according to Kavvadias (1883) is “grayish and of high quality” Dimensions (Stele A): Width: 0.76m; Height: 1.71m; Depth: 0.18m.* *These numbers are as per the standard edition of the text by Hiller, IG IV2 1, 121-124, though Kavvadias’ are slightly different (LiDonnici, 2015, 16). Fig. 1 (above): A reconstruction of the Temple’s abaton, under whose open air the suppliants would sleep, as part of the ritual incubation process. Image via Haggard (1929, 13) Fig. 2 (below): The top approx. two thirds of Stele A, IG IV (1)² 121. Kavvadias (1900)

Lettering: Letters are arranged in a stoichedon format, thus aligned into both vertical columns and horizontal rows. The horizontal rows have gaps of approximately 6mm between them, and the vertical columns, 8mm (LiDonnici, 1995, 16). Stele A has 126 lines in total. Findspot: The Eastern portion of the abaton, as spolia used in the construction of a Medieval house. (Błaśkiewicz, 2014, 55). Current location: Archaeological Museum of the Asclepeion at Epidaurus (Oberhelman, 2020, 30). Dating and rationale for this dating 4th Century B.C.. Edelsteins (1945) suggest the second half of the century, and Rhodes, Osborne (2003, 539) more specifically offer the 320s, “on the basis of letter forms”. Kavvadias (1881) originally posited 3rd Century origins, though later amended this to the more commonly accepted 4th Century postulation. This is a claim supported by i) The use of stoichedon, a design feature popular among 4th Century inscriptions ii) Ambiguity as to the veracity of the Epidaurian miracles performed. Though the Hippocratic doctor (c. 460- c. 370) began to practice in the 5th Century, it was not until this later time that his school of thought, rooted in rational medicine, began to convincingly clash with existing cultic Epidaurian practices. STELE A, TALE 4: (PHI)

STELE A, TALE 4 (EDELSTEINS, 1945):

Ἀμβροσία ἐξ Ἀθανᾶν

Ambrosia of Athens, blind of one eye. She came as a suppliant of the god. As she

[ἁτερό]πτ[ι]λλος. αὕτα ἱκέτις ἦλθε ποὶ τὸν θεόν· περιέρπουσα δὲ

walked about in the Temple she laughed at some of the cure as incredible and

[κατὰ τ]ὸ ἱα̣ρὸν τῶν ἰαμάτων τινὰ διεγέλα ὡς ἀπίθανα καὶ ἀδύνα- 35

impossible, that the lame and the blind should be healed by merely seeing a

[τὰ ἐόν]τα, χωλοὺς καὶ τυφλοὺ[ς] ὑγιεῖς γίνεσθαι ἐνύπνιον ἰδόν-

dream. In her sleep she had a vision. It seemed to her that the god stood by her

[τας μό]νον. ἐγκαθεύδουσα δὲ ὄψ̣ιν εἶδε· ἐδόκει οἱ ὁ θεὸς ἐπιστὰς

and said that he would cure her, but that in payment he would ask her to

[εἰπεῖν], ὅτι ὑγιῆ μέν νιν ποιησοῖ, μισθὸμ μάντοι νιν δεησοῖ ἀν-

dedicate to the Temple a silver pig as a memorial of her ignorance. After saying

[θέμεν ε]ἰς τὸ ἱαρὸν ὗν ἀργύρεον ὑπόμναμα τᾶς ἀμαθίας. εἴπαν-

this, he cut the diseased eyeball and poured in some drug. When day came she

[τα δὲ ταῦτ]α̣ ἀνσχίσσαι οὑ τὸν ὄπτιλλον τὸν νοσοῦντα καὶ φάρμ[α]-

walked out sound.

[κόν τι ἐγχέ]αι· ἁμέρας δὲ γενομένας ὑγιὴς ἐξῆλθε. • •

•

There is deliberate stress on sensory language. Note the difference between that which Ambrosia physically sees (ὄψ̣ιν, line 37), and the idea of “seeing” a dream, implied via ἐνύπνιον (line 36). For ὑγιής (line 41), Rhodes, Osborne, 2013 offers “healthy”, which one could argue feels too strong, describing her condition in too far generalised a manner. LiDonnici (2015) suggests for ὑγιὴς ἐξῆλθε “she left well”, which is better, but it is important to distinguish between the idea of targeted visual healing, and a magic antidote to one’s health in general. Compare the ending of A3 (a tale of paralysis) with A4; both are ἁμέρας δὲ γενομένας ὑγιὴς ἐξῆλθε. The fact that formulaic patterns can be observed might buttress the perceived strength and diversity of Asclepius’ powers. Additionally, one might argue it creates a euphonic, almost incantation-like rhythm to the inscription series, more reminiscent of 5th Century, pre-Hippocratean cultic medicine. Dillon (2014, 241) notes how in Aristophanes’ Ploutos, there is an episode in which the title character spends a night in the abaton to be healed of his blindness. Like Ambrosia at line 35, is Aristophanes lampooning the purported seriousness of the practice? Similarly, King (1998, 104) notes that after Kavvadias’ initial publishing of the inscriptions in 1883, their content was received as being fraudulent. STELE A: TALE 11 (PHI)

Fig. 3 (above): A supposed (read: doubtful) close up of Stele A, IG IV (1)² 121, Oberhelman (2020, 30). However, note that this image does not depict the “graying” stone mentioned by Kavvadias above, nor does it show nice stoichedon.

STELE A, TALE 11 (EDELSTEINS, 1945):

Αἰσχίνας ἐγκεκοιμισμένων ἤδη τῶν ἱκετᾶν ἐπὶ δένδρεόν τι ἀμ- 90 Aeschines, when the suppliants were βὰς ὑπερέκυπτε εἰς τὸ ἄβατον. καταπετὼν οὖν ἀπὸ τοῦ δένδρεος already asleep, climbed up a tree and tried to see over into the Abaton. But he fell from περὶ σκόλοπάς τινας τοὺς ὀπτίλλους ἀμφέπαισε· κακῶς δὲ διαthe tree on to some fencing and his eyes were injured. In a pitiable state of blindness, κείμενος καὶ τυφλὸς γεγενημένος καθικετεύσας τὸν θεὸν ἐνεhe came as a suppliant to the god and slept κάθευδε καὶ ὑγιὴς ἐγένετο. [vac] in the Temple and was healed.

Who were these suppliants?

•

Little is known in both instances. The Athenian Ambrosia at 121.4 is the only example in the onomastikon of a woman bearing this name, and thus little of her social status is inferable. Aeschines’ background, too, is dubious, though we might observe similarities between the infliction of his blindness with contemporary mythical voyeurs. Compare e.g. Tiresias, who although only an accidental voyeur, is blinded irreversibly. Yet, the intentional impiety of Aeschines through a sacred transgression is reversed with one night in the abaton. Instead, it appears significance lies not in the victim, but the universality of Asclepius’ willingness to heal all patients, despite their occasional fallibility in being responsible for their own suffering. Were these cures truly “miraculous”, or merely symbolic? Primary scholarly debate fixates on the veracity of the inscriptions’ accounts. LiDonnici (1992, 26) comments on the “relative “intimacy”” of these inscriptions vs the majority of contemporary religious sources, in their capacity to shed light on how ordinary men and women perceived the divine element at work. Rhodes, Osborne (2003, 540) dub Pausanias the ideal iamata visitor, since Stele A’s modest height of 1.7m makes it unusually readable to an audience. Thus it seems probable that the iamata chiefly served as an accessible expression of gratitude for the healing powers of Asclepius. The overarching argument of Dillon, that their purpose was to inform and provide an almost didactic solace to those suffering seems convincing. Conversely, Panagiotidou’s claim that Asclepius is consciously anthropomorphised is misleading: though this is the case in other healing inscriptions, (e.g. ICr I, xvii, no 9), Asclepius’ appeal in the iamata stems from his inhuman surpassing of medical intuitive expectations. Whether, therefore, these were taken at face value, or seen as symbolic, is perhaps down to the discretion of the individual spectator. Crucially, as LiDonnici (1992, 27) notes, no cases of infectious diseases or fevers, which are so prominent in Hippocratic writing, appear in the iamata. One might infer that this absence is an attempt at a religious revival - the preservation of cultic medicine, in offering solutions to predicaments which rational medicine cannot. Insofar as they might be aretological (Barranechea, 2016, 257, Błaśkiewicz, 2014, 57), it is perhaps more probable that given Stele A’s size and expanse of material, they chiefly offer solace (and hope of redemption) to those suffering, made more pertinent in a physical space of religious solemnity and pilgrimage. As Błaśkiewicz succinctly observes: “The social stratification of the suppliants seeking the realm in pain in the Asclepieia, together with the ‘intimate’ character of the tales, make the iamata inscriptions exceptional in comparison with other sources concerning Greek religion and Asclepiad-worship” (2014, 68). ZARA BINJI

•

LiDonnici (1995, 95) suggests that, depending on archaeological content and limitations in geographical knowledge, at line 92 (περὶ σκόλοπάς τινας τοὺς ὀπτίλλους ἀμφέπαισε), Aeschines may have impaled his eyes on thorns, and not the artificial fencing referred to both in her own original translation, and that of Edelsteins above. So too, at 1992, 38, she observes of the large vacat. at line 94, that lines 90-119 (i.e. tales 11-17) have around 50 characters per line, and leave very large vacats in order to begin each new tale at the left "margin”. The above tale refers to the common practice of ritual incubation. Dillon (2014, 248) observes that the Epidaurian iamata record personal epiphanies in the abaton, but not the procedure for incubation. In both A4 and A11, Asclepius is not once mentioned by name as a divine agent. LiDonnici (2015, 84) conjectures this may be because some of Stele A’s narratives originally concerned acts carried out by Apollo. However, this does not feel convincing given the singular “θεός. τύχα [ἀγ]αθά.” opening A1, which implies only one god (Asclepius) can concurrently be at work.

WORKS CITED: Barrenechea, F 2016, “Sanctuary Influence in Classical Representations of Incubation: The Motif of the Witness Awake”, Phoenix, vol. 70, no. 3/4, pp. 255–273. Błaśkiewicz, M 2014, “Healing dreams at Epidaurus. Analysis and Interpretation of the Epidaurian iamata”, Miscellanea Anthropologica et Sociologica, vol. 15, no. 4, pp. 54-69. Dillon, MPJ 1994, 'The Didactic Nature of the Epidaurian Iamata”, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik, vol. 101, pp. 239–260. Edelstein, EJ & L 1945, A Collection and Interpretation of the Testimonies, Johns Hopkins Press, Baltimore. Haggard, HW 1929, Devils, Drugs and Doctors: The Story of the Science of Healing From Medicine-Man to Doctor, Blue Ribbon Books, New York. Kavvadias, P 1893, Fouilles d'Épidaure, Volume I, Athens: Impremerie, Vlastos 2. Kavvadias, P 1900, Τὸ Ἱερὸν τοῦ Ἀσκληπιοῦ ἐν Ἐπιδαύρῳ, Athens: Ek tou typographeiou tōn Adelphōn Perri. King, H 1998, Hippocrates’ Woman: Reading the Female Body in Ancient Greece, Routledge, London ; New York. LiDonnici, LR 1992, “Compositional Background of the Epidaurian ’Iamata”, The American Journal of Philology, vol. 113, no. 1, pp. 25–41. LiDonnici, LR 1995, The Epidaurian Miracle Inscriptions, Texts and Translations; Graeco-Roman Religion Series, Scholars’ Press, Atlanta, GA.

Oberhelman, SM 2020, “Inscribing Votive Offerings and Tamata: Narratives, Artefacts, Asklepios, and Panagia Megalochari”, Athens Journal of Humanities & Arts, vol. 7, no. 1, pp. 15-44. Pausanias, Ἑλλάδος Περιήγησις. Accessed via DOI: 10.4159/DLCL.pausanias-description_greece.1918 Panagiotidou, O 2016, “Asclepius’ Myths and Healing Narratives: Counter-Intuitive Concepts and Cultural Expectations”, Open Library of Humanities, vol. 2, no. 1, p. e6. Rhodes, PJ & Osborne, R (eds) 2003, Greek Historical Inscriptions: 404-323 BC, Oxford University Press, Oxford, England ; New York.

The Funerary Stele of Shem/Antipatros the Ashkelonite: IG II² 8388 Harri Thomas Introduction

A Safe Passage to the Underworld…

This stele (H. 1.42, W. 0.48 m), found in 1861 in the Diplyon Cemetery in the Keremeikos, Athens, is now held in the National Archaeological Museum of the same city (Palmer and Sandys, 1872, 48; Stager, 2005, 427). Its lettering, along along with consideration of Demetrius’ anti-sumptuary laws, mean it can be dated to between the fourth and second centuries B.C., although it is most commonly dated to around 300 B.C (Stager, 2005, 427f.; Goldhill, 2012, 91n9). It consists of one Phoenician epitaph, one Greek epitaph and a Greek epigram, along with an inscribed relief.

It has been established that Shem/Antipatros was likely to have been a Phoenician living in Attica. The next question to address is the message this stele is intended to convey to its audience. As discussed, the imagery and epitaph are purely symbolic: it is not the case that Shem/Antipatros died in the jaws of a lion, whilst his friend fought it off. Rather, the naked man embodies a (semi-)divine being, and the lion, evil. The prow in the top-right of the relief seems to symbolise the afterlife, and more specifically the safepassage of Shem/Antipatros’ soul to the underworld, since in Greece and the Near East, aquatic imagery often represented the chthonic regions; as such, the contest between the (semi-)divine figure and the lion represents the fight over Shem/Antipatros’ soul (Tribulato, 2013, 480f.). The figure, present to ensure the soul is not taken by the lion, the embodiment of evil, shows that Shem/Antipatros has received a suitable burial (Tribulato, 2013, 481). In this case, the purpose of the epigram, then, remains the same as if the text and imagery were to be taken literally: to explain the relief. Aside from the oddities, as discussed above, the words themselves hint at the fight over Shem/Antipatros’ soul. We learn the lion was wishing to scatter his ‘things’ (i.e., soul), but that his friends came to the rescue and erected the tomb; that is, because they gave Shem/Antipatros a suitable burial, they rescued his soul from the clutches of evil, which is reflected in the relief. As such, the epigram was there to aid a Greek observer’s comprehension of the images and further contribute to true bilingualism of this monument, by communicating Phoenician ideas via Greek media.

The Epitaphs The two epitaphs (Figure 1), one written in Greek, the other in Phoenician, relay the same information, with slight changes in wording. They both identify the deceased (Shem in Phoenician or Antipatros in Greek) and his father (Abdashtart/Aphrodisias), whom we are told is an Ashkelonite. The dedicator of the stele (Domsalo/Domsalos) is also named, along with a patronymic. The Epigram and Image The inscribed image (Figure 2) and six-line epigram (Figure 3) are the centrepieces of this stele. Carved into the stone is a nude corpse lying on a bier. On his left stands a lion with its front legs on the bier and with its mouth open over the corpse’s neck. Another naked figure, who is much larger than the deceased and standing to the right of the bier, is wrestling the lion. In the top right is the prow of a ship; though some argue that this stands in place of the naked figure’s head (Barbanara, 1992; Bonnet, 1998), it is nevertheless much more likely that originally the figure had a head, but some damage to the stele removed it (Tribulato, 2013, 462). The epigram purports to explain the image literally; however, its grammatical, metrical and syntactical oddities (outlined in full by Tribulato, 2013, 466-470) and gaps in information (such as, why would there have been a lion in Attica?) indicate that this stele should be interpreted symbolically. It is now necessary to discuss how this image is still explained by the epigram, whilst exploring Shem/Antipatros’ identity.

Figure 1. The epitaphs of the Stele of Shem/Antipatros. NM 1488.

…and a Social Commentary? Despite there already being an established Phoenician community in Athens and the Piraeus (Osborne, 2011, 331), it seems as though this stele is the first, or one of the first, to show the extent of the integration of the Phoenicians into Athenian society. The epigram’s first line anticipates the surprise a Greek passer-by would have felt upon stumbling on this stele (Fantuzzi and Hunter, 2005, 309), which shows that, as Osborne (2012, 325f,) notes, Domsalo(s) was attempting to do something new: that is, create a ‘hybridised’ monument, which drew on Phoenician/Near Eastern symbolism, but was inscribed in a hellenised way.

Who was Shem/Antipatros? It has been variously argued that Shem/Antipatros was merely a Phoenician seafarer who died on a sacred voyage (Stager, 2005; SEG 63.189); however, this monument is a clear attempt to communicate with both a Greek and Phoenician audience (Tribulato, 2013, 463), which points to Shem/Antipatros’ being a Phoenician resident of Athens at the time of his death. With this in mind, the lay-out is a point of interest; typically, as regards Phoenician/Greek bilingual inscriptions, the Phoenician epitaph is placed above a shorter Greek text (SEG 62.1893). Here, both epitaphs are two lines long, and the Greek comes first. This shows a conscious effort on the part of Domsalo(s) to ensure that this monument communicated with both Greeks and Phoenicians, as the Greek epitaph’s prominent position would have ensured that more Greek passers-by stopped and inspected the monument. This stele is also very elaborate, which corroborates that Shem/Antipatros was residing in Attica when he died (Tribulato, 2013, 463); after all, why would such a grand monument have been built for a non-Athenian resident? The hellenisation of the names, which is typical in Phoenician/Greek bilingual inscriptions (SEG 62.1893), also points to Shem/Antipatros’ status as an Athenian resident, and it indicates that Domsalo(s), and so presumably Shem/Antipatros, had a good command of Greek. It is also another aspect designed to show Domsalo(s)’ desire that the stele communicate with two different communities. In the Greek epitaph, the deceased is given a wholly Greek name, Antipatros; since this is found on his tombstone, it seems that this was the moniker by which he went when in Hellas (Stager, 2005, 431). That there does not seem to be any connection to his Phoenician name (Stager, 2005, 431) shows the extent of his acculturation and assimilation in Athenian society, as, under his Greek name, there would have been no hint of his Phoenician background. Meanwhile, his father is identified as Abdashtart - ‘servant of Asarte’ - in the Phoenician epitaph, but Aphrodisias - ‘belonging to Aphrodite’ - in the Greek (Tribulato, 2013, 473). Since there is a tradition which links these two goddesses (Stager, 2005, 430), this stele follows the onomastic custom of such monuments of ‘translating’ divine names (SEG 62.1893), further demonstrating the cultural duality and wish to appeal to both Greek and Phoenician audiences of Domsalo(s) and hence Shem/Antipatros. Interestingly, the Domsalo(s), who took pains to ensure that both the names of the deceased and his father were hellenised in the Greek epitaph, merely had his name and patronymic transliterated from the Phoenician into the Greek. However, as Stager (2005, 430) notes, he does present ‘Greek versions of these names…rendering the inscription more accessible to viewers.’ Once again, this highlights how this monument represents an attempt to communicate with both Greeks and Phoenicians. The inscribed image further shows that the target audience of this stele was both Greek and Phoenician; despite depicting Phoenician beliefs, it is engraved with ‘Greek motifs of relief’ (Tribulato, 2013, 483), the symbolism being carefully constructed and deliberately hellenised, so that a Greek audience would have understood how to interpret a fundamentally Phoenician image. The leonine imagery of the Middle East was diverse (Tribulato, 2013, 474). Here, the lion is depicted as attacking the corpse of Shem/Antipatros, and so it conforms with the regional tradition of lions representing the wicked, which a Phoenician passer-by would have recognised. Since lions could represent the ‘deathly power of nature’ in Greece (Tribulato, 2013, 476), a Hellenistic viewer would too have recognised why, in this case, the lion was present. Furthermore, the naked figure at the foot of the bier, due to his immense size and depiction wrestling a lion, is sure to represent a (semi-) divine being (Tribulato, 2013, 476); this would have been clear to a Phoenician. To a Greek, this figure would have undoubtedly called to mind Herakles, who was closely associated with lions and often depicted as over-size and naked, and who also happens to be semidivine. Just as Abdashtart is translated in Aphrodisias in such a way as to retain its meaning in the Greek epitaph, so in the inscribed relief Phoenician beliefs are translated into a form of visual language that would have been familiar to a Greek audience.

Figure 2. The stele’s inscribed relief. NM 1488.

Perhaps this level of integration was down to the fact that the Phoenician community in Attica was ‘not determined by city-state boundaries’, which is evident in the stele (Stager, 2005, 444); in the last line of the epigram, Shem/Antipatros refers to his homeland as Phoenicia, rather than Ashkelon, from where, in the epitaphs, we are told he originates. This points to a Phoenician community which banded together and thought of itself in terms of country of origin, rather than poleis of origin, which would have ensured a swifter integration into Athenian society. Some, like Osborne (2011, 329), believe that this stele’s overall aim was to show that the Phoenicians and Athenians were in no place to understand the cultural positions of each other. In contrast, as I see it, Domsalo(s) via this stele, wished to send a message that the Phoenicians and the Athenians had a very close mutual cultural understanding. This is consistent with Stager’s observation (2005, 443) that ‘openness to their [foreigners’] religions and cultures seems to have reached new heights from the 4th Century B.C. onward.’ It is hardly likely that foreigners would have started to take up Athenian funerary practices without first fully understanding what these meant. Thus, the monument arguably indicates that Shem/Antipatros’ generation of Phoenicians living in Attica were the first to feel a close affinity to Athens.

Bibliography

Figure 3. The stele’s epigram. NM 1488. Barbanera, M. (1992) ‘Ancora sulla stele funeraria di Antipatros di Ascalona: Una messa a punto’, NumAntClas 21: 87-103.

Transcription of the text (Tribulato, 2013, 462f.) 1 Ἀντίπατρος Ἀφροδισίου Ἀσκαλ̣[ωνίτης] Δοµσαλως Δοµανω Σιδώνιος ἀνέθηκε. 3 ʾNK ŠM BN ʿBDʿŠTRTʾʾŠQLNY ʾŠ YṬNʾT ʾNK DʿMṢLH BN DʿMḤNʾ ṢDNY. 5 µηθεὶς ἀνθρώπων θαυµαζέτω εἰκόνα τήνδε, ὡς περὶ µέν µε λέων, περὶ δὲγ πρῶιρ’ <ἐ>γκτετάνυσται. 7 ἦλθε γὰρ εἰχθρολέων τἀµὰ θέλων σποράσαι· ἀλλὰ φίλοι τ’ ἤµυναν καί µοι κτέρισαν τάφον οὕτηι, 9 οὓς ἔθελον φιλέων, ἱερᾶς ἀπὸ νηὸς ἰόντες· Φοινίκην δ’ ἔλιπον, τεῖδε χθονὶ σῶµα κέκρυνµαι. Translation (Tribulato, 2013, 462f.)

Bonnet, C. (1998) ‘Antipatros l’Ascalonite dévoré par un lion: commentaire de CIS I, 115’, Semitica 38: 39-47. Chaniotis, A., Corsten, T., Papazarkadas, N. and Tybout, R.A. (2012), ‘SEG 62-1893. Linguistics. Bilingualism: Phoenician/Greek inscriptions.”, in: Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum, Current editors: A. T. E. N. Chaniotis Corsten Stavrianopolou Papazarkadas. Chaniotis, A., Corsten, T., Papazarkadas, N. and Tybout, R.A. (2012), ‘SEG 63-189. Peiraieus. Epitaph of Shem/Antipatros of Askalon, ca. 350-300 B.C.’, in: Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum, Current editors: A. T. E. N. Chaniotis Corsten Stavrianopolou Papazarkadas. Fantuzzi, M. and Hunter, R. (2005) Tradition and Innovation in Hellenistic Poetry. Cambridge. Cambridge University Press, 309-10. Goldhill, S. (2012) ‘Forms of Attention: Time and Narrative in Ecphrasis’, The Cambridge Classical Journal 58: 88-144.

Antipatros son of Aphrodisios, from Ashkelon. Domsalôs, son of Domhanô, from Sidon, dedicated [this stele].

Osborne, R. (2012) ‘Cultures as languages and languages as cultures’, in Mullen, A. and James, P. (eds.) Multilingualism in the GraecoRoman Worlds. Cambridge. Cambridge University Press, 317-334.

I [am] Shem, son of Abdashtart, the Ashkelonite. [This is the stele] that I erected, Domsalô, son of Domhanô, the Sidonian.

Palmer, E.H. and Sandys, J.E. (1872) ‘On an Athenian Bilingual Inscription’, JP 4: 48-54.

Let no one wonder at this image—that on one side of me a lion and on the other a prow are stretched out. For a hateful lion came, wishing to scatter my things around. But friends came to the rescue and built me a tomb here, those whom in my love, I desired [should rescue me and bury me], coming from a sacred ship. I left Phoenicia and I am, in body, here hidden in the earth.

Stager, J.M.S. (2005) ‘“Let No One Wonder at This Image”: A Phoenician Funerary Stele in Athens’, Hesperia 74.3: 437-449. Tribulato, O. (2013) ‘Phoenician Lions: The Funerary Stele of the Phoenician Shem/Antipatros’, Hesperia 82.3: 459-486.

Grave Stela of Laurion: Ἀτώτας μεταλλεύς

Abigail Cleeve Spanner

CLAS 44530

Observations: Engraved limestone (or white marble) stela with palmette and egg-and-dart decoration (only lightly inscribed), and it is broken beneath the inscription (Lauffer 1955/1957, 199; Bérard 1888, 246). Bérard mentions that the stela is made from limestone, however, Koehler, Lauffer and Hunt suggest it is marble (1955/1957, 174n.3, 199; 2018, 88). It was found in the Laurion silver-mines of “south-east Attica” (c. 40km from Athens), specifically the “Merkati” mines (Hopper 1968, 293; Lagia 2015, 122; Lauffer 1955/1957, 124). There was a spelling mistake on the third line: ΣΣΩΜ. The mistake was erased on the stela and the extra Σ has been removed from the transcription. The recorded dimensions only include the width, 45cm (Bérard 1888, 246). I have included three other Attic grave stelae (Fig. 2, 3 and 4) for comparative purposes, though I could only find one example of a 4th-century limestone inscription with palmettes (Grossman 2001, 146).

Dating: Second half of the 4th century B.C (Bérard 1888, 248). Bérard says the letterforms help identify the inscription date and may be compared with letterforms on inscribed graffiti at a nearby site (c. after 360 B.C.) (Bérard 1888, 248; Langdon and Watrous 1977, 172). However, it is important to consider that Bérard’s record of the inscription is the only visual example available and the stela was lost. While many of the graves at Laurion “date to around the middle of the 5th century [B.C.]” (Lagia 2015, 122), the “renewal” of the mining industry at Laurion (after its abandonment during the Peloponnesian War) covers at least the mid-4th century B.C. (Lagia 2015, 122; Hopper 1968, 315, 294). This is also a turbulent period in history with Atotas working as a miner in the wake of the Peloponnesian War; these factors likely influenced Atotas’ success since he would have been able to demonstrate great skill and professionalism during a time of economic revival in the area, garnering respect from his employer/owner (Hopper 1953, 250; Hunt 2018, 88; Lagia 2015, 120). Bäbler argues that Atotas was probably a skilled worker in Paphlagonia, which gave him an advantage once he began working in the Laurion mines (1998, 97). While there is no information on Atotas’ employer/owner, the Laurion mines could have been state-owned during the 4th century (or only specific mines within Laurion, like Merkati), which could explain the limited records on the ownership of the mines in the 4th century (Hopper 1953, 205, 227-228; 1968, 302, 303). To compare, Lauffer mentions the ownership details of the nearby mines of “Maroneia”, which could have been organised similarly to Laurion; in either scenario (state or privately owned), however, Atotas was likely given a managerial position (Lauffer 1955/1957, 123; Hunt 2018, 88).

Analysis: Regardless of who commissioned the stela, it seems Atotas would have at least given permission for it to be erected in his honour and he was clearly highly regarded as the stela would have been expensive; even if Atotas had financed it himself, the fact that he could afford such an “elegant” stela demonstrates his wellearned position (Hunt 2015, 137n.38; 2018, 88). Was he a slave or a freedman? There are many arguments for both sides; I am more convinced by the ‘freedman argument’ but it is nevertheless useful to discuss the evidence.

Fig. 1: IG II² 10051 = CEG 572. Only available visual depiction available (Bérard 1888, 246) Text:

Translation:

Ἀτώτας μεταλλεύς.

Atotas the miner.

Πόντου ἀπ’ Εὐξείνου Παφλαγὼν μεγάθυμος Ἀτώτας

A Paphlagonian from the Euxine Sea, great-hearted Atotas, far from his land has rested his body from toil. In skill, nobody rivalled [me]. I am from the race of Pylaimenes, who died, conquered by the hand of Achilles.

ἧς γαίας τηλοῦ σῶμ’ ἀνέπαυσε πόνων. τέχνηι δ’ οὔτις ἔριζε· Πυλαιμένεος δ’ ἀπὸ ῥίζης εἴμ’, ὃς Ἀχιλλῆος χειρὶ δαμεὶς ἔθανεν. (Transcription from Bérard (1888, 246))

Other examples:

IG II² 10051 may have had more decorations, such as rosettes, underneath the inscription where it was broken. In Atotas the Slave: Working in the Athenian mining industry was “[one] of the hardest and most dangerous tasks” for slaves and it was much harder to earn Clairmont’s CAT, there are only two stelae with limited decoration (2.319b (see Fig. freedom compared to slaves in the city (Kapparis 2019, 101; Lauffer 1955/1957, 205). We can infer from the epitaph that Atotas’ work was hard, requiring much physical strength as well as skill (Lauffer 1955/1957, 199). This hard labour would support the ‘slave argument’ better. There is also the debate as to whether the 2) and 1.787), and there are no further stela was made from limestone or white marble, marble being the more expensive and elegant material (Hunt 2018, 88). Bérard and Hansen suggest it is limestone examples in funerary inscription records on (Bérard 1888, 246; Hansen 1989, 67). After the work of Koehler, Lauffer and Hunt assert that it is white marble, which would serve the ‘freedman argument’ AIO (excluding Fig. 2). As such, Atotas’ better, however, no reasoning is provided for this suggestion (Lauffer 1955/1957, 199; Hunt 2018, 88). Bäbler further argues that Atotas was a slave because stela could have followed the more considering his pride in his ancestry, ethnicity, profession and skill, the absence of his status as a freedman suggests he remained a slave (1998, 96). Hunt dismisses common decorative patterns. For the this argument (2015, 137n.37). possible dimensions, these examples Atotas the Freedman: Laurion had a cemetery, however (according to Lauffer) IG II² 10051 was not located there and archaeologists suggested that provide a rough guide, though IG II² 10051 “based on its proximity to the mines, the poverty of the grave goods” and “the simplicity and ‘careless’ layout of the graves themselves”, the cemetery was used may have combined Attic and primarily for slaves who worked in the mines (Lauffer 1955/1957, 124; Lagia 2015, 122). IG II² 10051 seems to have been set apart from the slave cemetery and Paphlagonian aesthetics (SEG 60-1367). If thus Atotas may have been a freedman when he died. However, it is possible that the stela was simply placed next to the mines which Atotas managed. There is this is the case, the combination of debate over how dangerous the Laurion mining industry was compared to other mines; silver-mining (at least in Laurion) seems to have required a lot of skill and aesthetics on the stela would further there is no evidence for high expendability of slaves as this would have been expensive and inefficient (Hopper 1961, 150-151). Lauffer suggests that, while the work would have been hard (as suggested by the epitaph), Atotas would have likely been a well-educated slave (among others) who improved mining methods and reinforce the intercultural influences shown in the epitaph. Such suggestions, worked possibly as a mining technician (of sorts), setting him apart from regular manual-labour slaves, and reinforcing Hunt’s argument on Atotas earning his however, will unfortunately remain freedom (1955/1957, 28; 2018, 88, 117). Moreover, Kapparis argues that since slavery was understood in Athenian society as an “unfortunate reversal of fate and uncertain due to the stela being lost. circumstance” it was possible for a slave to gain (or regain) their freedom (2019, 98). Whatever Atotas’ position was, reading the epitaph suggests his national identity has much stronger significance than class or status in Attic society, which I will now discuss (Lauffer 1955/1957, 202).

Word count: 1657

Homeric style: As Tsagalis helpfully summarises, this epitaph takes inspiration from Homer and other sources, as Pylaimenes in the Iliad is not killed by

Bibliography:

Achilles but Menelaus (2008, 263). Who made this decision is uncertain, however, if it was Atotas, it is likely he would have been aware of the different versions of the story and made a deliberate choice to mention the more famous hero, Achilles (Lauffer 1955/1957, 200-201). This allows Atotas to boast about his profession, his heritage, and his connection to Achilles, drawing inspiration from the heroic value of κλέος and the intercultural relationship between Attica and Paphlagonia (Gazis 2015, iii). While κλέος is usually reserved for military/heroic achievements (both in epic and epitaph), Atotas’ stela does draw on the celebration of one’s deeds rather than status (Fearn 2013, 244-245; Lauffer 1955/1957, 204). Since the purpose of such an inscription is memorialisation, the inspiration of κλέος works well here (Lavigne 2019, 170). Moreover, κλέος along with the epic tradition, the Attic letters, and Greek mythology acts as a form of intercultural communication, where Atotas demonstrates pride for his own heritage and integrates himself into Athenian culture (Lavigne 2019, 182-184; Tsagalis 2008, 263; Vlassopoulos 2013, 130-131). Vlassopoulos argues that Atotas was “clearly steeped in [Athenian] culture”, however, as Lauffer suggests, it is possible that the epigram was largely the work of the poet/stone-cutter with Atotas allowing the creative decision (1955/1957, 201). Regardless of this uncertainty, the stela demonstrates the use of mythology as a connection between different cultures and the influence of epic/heroic values to reinforce Atotas’ own sense of achievement and the respect he earned (Vlassopoulos 2013, 154).

Concluding note: Although there are unanswered questions, Atotas is an important example of intercultural communication, the Attic slavery-system, and the mining industry. IG II/III² 10051 shows us that Atotas was able to use his skills and experience to earn a respectable living for himself and (likely) his family. His position as a slave or a freedman would have been important in reality but, from the epitaph, it is clear that Atotas wanted to be remembered for his own accomplishments and heritage regardless of his status.

(My translation, influenced by Hunt (2018, 88) and Tueller (2016, 229)).

Fig. 3: Example of egg-and-dart decoration. CAT 1.233 “Athens, NM 2604, ph. after Ross, Archäologische Aufsätze I (1855), pl.I.3 (70)” (Clairmont 1993, xii). Fig. 2: IG II² 6982, mid-4th century B.C., Height: c. 0.99m; width c. 0.34m; depth c. 0.07m (Lambert 2018, 29). Image from AIO. Paired with IG II² 12221.

Books: Bäbler, B. Fleissige Thrakerinnen und wehrhafte Skythen. (B. G. Teubner, 1998). Bergemann, J. “Archaic-Classical Cemeteries”, Exploring Thorikos. Ed. R. F. Docter and M. Webster (Department of Archaeology, Ghent University, 2018), pp. 33-34. Chaniotis, A., Corsten, T., Papazarkadas, N., and Tybout, R.A. “SEG 60-1367”, Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum. (Brill, 2014). Clairmont, C. W. Classical Attic Tombstones: Plate Volume. (Akanthus, Kilchberg, 1993). Fearn, D. “Kleos Versus Stone? Lyric Poetry and Contexts for Memorialization”, Inscriptions and their Uses in Greek and Latin Literature. Ed. P. Liddel and P. Low (Oxford University Press, 2013). Hansen, P. A. Carmina Epigraphica Graeca Saeculi IV a. Chr. n. (CEG 2). (De Gruyter, 1989). Hunt, P. Ancient Greek and Roman Slavery. (John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. 2018). Hunt, P. “Trojan Slaves in Classical Athens: Ethnic Identity among Athenian Slaves”, Communities and Networks in the Ancient Greek World. Ed. C. Taylor and K. Vlassopoulos. (Oxford University Press, 2015). Kapparis, K. A. Athenian Law and Society. (Routledge, 2019).

Grossman, J. B. Greek Funerary Sculpture. (The J. Paul Getty Trust, 2001). Lagia, A. “Diet and the Polis: An Isotopic Study of Diet in Athens and Laurion during the Classical, Hellenistic, and Imperial Roman Periods”, Archaeodiet in the Greek World: Dietary Reconstruction from Stable Isotope Analysis. Ed. A. Papathanasiou, M. P. Richards and S. C. Fox. (American School of Classical Studies at Athens, 2015), pp. 119-145. Lauffer, S. Die Bergwerkssklaven von Laureion. (Franz Steiner Verlag GmbH, 1957 (1955)). Lavigne, D. E. “The Authority of Archaic Greek Epigram”, The Materiality of the Text: Placement, Perception, and Presence of Inscribed Texts in Classical Antiquity. Ed. A. Petrovic, I. Petrovic and E. Thomas. (Brill, 2019), pp.169186. Tsagalis, C. C. Inscribing Sorrow: Fourth-Century Attic Funerary Epigrams. (De Gruyter, 2008). Tueller, M. A. Words for Dying in Sepulchral Epigram. Dialect, Diction, and Style in Greek Literary and Inscribed Epigram. Ed. E. Sistakou and A. Rengakos. (De Gruyter, 2016), pp. 215-233. Vlassopoulos, K. Greeks and Barbarians. (Cambridge University Press, 2013).

Fig. 4: “White marble palmette stele of Charinos of Thorikos...ht. 1.337 m, 370-350 BC” (Bergemann 2018, 34). Articles/Journals: Bérard, V. “Inscription du Laurium”, Bulletin de correspondance hellénique. 12, (1888), pp. 246-248. Gazis, G. Homer and the Poetics of Hades. (Durham University, 2015). Hopper, R. J. “The Attic Silver Mines in the Fourth Century B.C”, The Annual of the British School at Athens, 48, (1953), pp. 200-254. Hopper. R. J. “The Laurion Mines: A Reconsideration”, The Annual of the British School at Athens, 63, (1968), pp. 293-326. Hopper, R. J. “The Mines and Miners of Ancient Athens.” Greece & Rome, 8, 2 (1961), pp. 138–151. Lambert, S. Attic Inscriptions in UK Collections: British School at Athens, Vol. 2. (Attic Inscriptions Online, 2018). Langdon, M. K., and Watrous, L. V. “The Farm of Timesios: Rock-Cut Inscriptions in South Attica”, Hesperia. 46, 2 (1977), pp. 162–177. Websites: IG II² 6982. (Attic Inscriptions Online, 2019 (2018)). Available at: < https://www.atticinscriptions.com/inscription/AIUK2/10 > [Accessed: 22nd March 2021].

IG V.1 1228: Manumission within Lakonike? IG V.1 1228: WHERE AND WHEN? IG V.1 1228 (figure 1), one of five inscriptions from the Temple of Poseidon at Tainaron, Lakonia, on modern-day Cape Matapan (see figure 3), has commonly been dated to the middle of the fifth century BC. However, the stereotypically laconic nature of the inscription means that very little information can be inferred from it that may provide clear evidence as to the date of dedication. Moreover, the inscription is somewhat damaged, with many of the letters having significantly faded, and the layout of the words is somewhat uneven, making accurate identification of some letters difficult. Yet, taken together, the information within the inscription and the letter forms provide enough clues to be able to approximately date the inscription. What information the inscription does provide consists of a number of names, and that the inscription was dedicated to Poseidon. One name is of particular interest, the ephoros Daiokhos, who is thought to have been the eponymous ephor at Sparta by whom this inscription was dated (Cartledge, 2002, 154; MacDowell, 1986, 38). If this is the case, then this inscription was not established between 432 and 404 BC, for Daiokhos does not appear in Xenophon’s list of the eponymous ephors of Sparta during the Peloponnesian War (Hell. 2.3.9-10). However, using this as a dating criterion is not necessarily accurate. For example, IG V.1 1231, another Tainaron inscription, is dated to 427 BC given the appearance of the name Hegesistratos in both the inscription and Xenophon’s list, but the inscription’s letter forms “are utterly alien from anything as early as c.427/6, not merely in Lakonia, but anywhere else”, and instead come from the fourth century (Jeffery, 1989, 197). Moreover, there is no indication that Daiokhos is the eponymous ephor, and not a local official from Tainaron, which is not impossible given the lack of any ethnic associated with the names in the inscription, meaning the inscription was likely intended for a local audience (Hall, 2000, 77). Regarding the lettering, Jeffery, pointing to the upsilon and chi, believes IG V.1 1228 to have more archaic forms, and is older than the Damonon stele (IG V.1 213) from c. 450-431 (Jeffery, 1989, 196-7). However, the sigma used in the inscription is of the type that came to be more widely used in the middle of the fifth century (see Jeffery, 1989, 183). Consequently, while the stele is damaged, and some of the letters are of an archaic type, it appears to be from the middle of the fifth century, possibly no earlier than 476-473 BC (Newton, 1874, 3). Therefore, IG V.1 1228 is most likely to come from between 473 and 431 BC, possibly even before 450 BC. A MANUMISSION INSCRIPTION? MacDowell tells us that IG V.1 1228 “is most easily interpreted as meaning that Theares liberated his slave Kleogenes in the year in which Daiokhos was the chief ephor at Sparta” (MacDowell, 1986, 38). However, this inscription contains very little information pertaining to the act of dedication, and thus cannot simply be taken as a manumission document. Furthermore, there is a paucity of evidence of manumissions within the Peloponnese contemporary to IG V.1 1228 with which to compare, with the only other fifth century manumission document coming from Phigaleia (SEG 63-318). While this paucity of evidence does not mean that manumission was rare within the Peloponnese in the fifth century, rather that the recording of such manumissions was, it does mean that there may not be a recognisable formula used in these manumissions, as the act of inscribing manumissions was as yet undeveloped. Therefore, a comparison with the wider corpus of Greek manumission inscriptions may tell us whether IG V.1 1228 does record a manumission. At Delphi there are over one thousand inscriptions recording the manumission of nearly one thousand two hundred slaves (Hopkins, 1978, 133), providing a comprehensive corpus of evidence to ancient Greek attitudes to manumission. However, the Delphic manumissions were established between the second century BC and the first century AD, and thus may not reflect the same attitudes towards manumission as those of the fifth century, although they may reflect a more formal and standardised method of manumission, possibly sharing similarities with fifth century manumissions.

Figure 1: IG V.1 1228

IMPORTANT INFORMATION Title: IG V.1 1228 Findspot: Temple of Poseidon, Cape Tainaron (see figure 3) Current Location: British Museum, London Document Type: Manumission Dedication Stone Type: White Marble Height: 0.60m Width: 0.29m Date: c.473-431 BC

Of the Delphic manumissions of the 2nd century, 72% record unconditional manumissions (Hopkins, 1978, 141), while the rest of the documents record that the slaves were released with paramone, meaning the “slaves bought formal freedom but contractually bound themselves to stay with and to continue serving their former owners, even after they were freed”, usually until the owner’s death (Hopkins, 1978, 133). Both Figure 2: Late 6th c. Laconian Bronze Figurine types of manumissions follow a similar formula. Unconditional freedom followed the formula of ‘date - sale to the god - full freedom - guarantee of free status’, while conditional freedom followed the formula ‘date - sale to the god - the paramone clause - a release clause - security of status - witnesses’ (Hopkins, 1978, 142-3). IG V.1 1228 follows the formula ‘invocation to the god - names - potential date witnesses’, and generally resembles the Delphic inscriptions, meaning it was likely a manumission document. However, the use of written clauses to specify the terms of the manumission is the most apparent difference between the Delphic inscriptions and IG V.1 1228, and could indicate a difference in meaning between them. While this may be attributed to the development of literacy between the fifth and second centuries in Greece, SEG 63-318, while fragmentary, also contains more information than IG V.1 1228. It is possible that the Spartans were a largely illiterate society in the Classical period, with Isocrates claiming as such (12.209, 259). However, Isocrates was “a rhetorician and Athenian cultural chauvinist” (Cartledge, 1978, 27), and Spartan society was not totally illiterate, although, as Cartledge tells us, “literacy in Sparta remained very thinly spread, and deep literacy was the preserve of an élite operating at the highest level of state” (1978, 38). Yet, Millender has demonstrated that literacy in Sparta may not have been restricted to the elite, but was common among Spartiates, and that “a similar mix of oral and literate modes of communication operated in archaic and classical Spartan society” (Millender, 2001, 138). What’s more, Demosthenes tells us that in fourth century Athens witnesses were used alongside written contracts, and may have been more trusted than writing (35.10.14; see Thomas, 1989, 29). Therefore, the Spartans likely conferred greater importance upon witnesses to contracts and exchanges, and they may have been the primary method of formalising such activities, with inscriptions acting as receipts which were used to refer to witnesses, who could then resolve debates or contradictions. Thus, the lack of manumission clauses in IG V.1 1228 does not necessarily indicate that it was not a manumission document. However, identifying IG V.1 1228 as a manumission document raises important questions regarding Spartan society, notably who is being manumitted, a helot or a slave?

ἙΙΛΩΤΑΙ OR ΔΟΥΛΟΙ? Helots are associated with the Temple of Poseidon at Tainaron during the Classical period (Thuc. 1.128, 133), and while Cartledge connects this association with Pausanias’ plot, which may have involved a helot uprising (Cartledge, 2002, 184), this seems to support the idea that those manumitted were helots. However, Ephorus records that Spartans were prohibited from manumitting helots (in Strabo 8.5.4), meaning manumission was solely in the purview of the state (see Thuc. 4.80; 5.34). Ephorus’ statement has been accepted as fact by scholars discussing helotage, and it is widely believed that helots could only be manumitted by the state (for example, see Cartledge, 2011, 81; Hodkinson, 2000, 115; and Luraghi, 2002, 229), and some scholars have taken this prohibition to mean that Spartans had chattel slaves in addition to helots, and that it was chattel slaves manumitted in the Tainaron inscriptions (MacDowell, 1986, 38; Zelnick-Abramovitz, 2005, 63). That said, Ephorus was writing during the fourth century, meaning he may be recording the situation in the fourth century, after the liberation of Messenia, when manumitted helots would more than likely have travelled to Messenia and joined the new polity following their manumission. Moreover, mass manumissions by the state, while rare, are not only attested in Sparta. A notable and contemporary source is Aristophanes’ Frogs (693-6), which records the reaction to the manumission of slaves after the Battle of Arginusai (see Hunt, 2001), meaning mass, state-ordered manumissions do not preclude individual, private manumissions. Furthermore, contemporary sources considered helots douloi, but they are not Lakedaimonian sources, instead coming from writers foreign to Sparta, and thus may have equated helots to the more typical chattel slaves. However, the Spartan-Athenian alliance of 421 records helots as douloi (Thuc. 5.23), meaning the Spartans thought of them as such, although this is “heavily propagandistic… and politicised” as it denied the free Messenians any legitimacy (Hodkinson, 2000, 116). Thus, while Ephorus records that it was forbidden for individuals to manumit helots, the Spartans considered helots to be the same as chattel slaves, and mass, state-sanctioned manumissions do not mean individual manumissions did not occur, meaning IG V.1 1228 could refer to the manumission of helots. What’s more, manumission documents may have been more prevalent in Classical Sparta than the archaeological record indicates, for the Spartans may have utilised perishable materials such as bronze for their inscriptions, for example IG V.2 159, particularly given their use of bronze in Archaic art (figure 2), meaning manumission documents inscribed on bronze may have been lost over time (see Millender, 2001 for a full discussion). What’s more, SEG 63-318, while not from Lakonia, is a manumission document inscribed upon a bronze tablet.

Figure 3: Tainaron, Cape Matapan, Greece

However, it is possible that traditional forms of chattel slavery existed alongside helotage in Lakedaimon, for IG V.1 1155, from Gytheion, forbids anyone, whether slave (doulos) or free, from quarrying stone. The use of doulos here, by a Lakedaimonian source, can either mean that helot and doulos were used interchangeably, or that chattel slaves existed alongside helots. Of all the locations within Lakedaimon, Tainaron is one of the most likely to have access to the Mediterranean slave trade, for it possibly had its own harbour from which it could trade, meaning chattel slaves would not have been an impossibility (Hdt. 1.23-4, 7.168; Thuc. 7.19). Therefore, while it is possible that IG V.1 1228 does refer to the manumission of helots, it could also refer to chattel slaves, but the brevity of the inscriptions and the complicated nature of sources on helotage make any definitive conclusion impossible.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Aristophanes, Frogs (trans. M. Dillon, 1995). Demosthenes, Speeches (trans. A. T. Murray, 1939). Herodotus (trans. R. Waterfield, 1998). Isocrates, Speeches (trans. G. Norlin, 1980). Strabo, Geography (trans. H. L. Jones, 1924). Thucydides (trans. M Hammond, 2009). Xenophon, Hellenika (trans. C. L. Brownson, 1918). Secondary Sources P. Cartledge, ‘Literacy in the Spartan Oligarchy’, Journal of Hellenic Studies, vol. 98 (1978), 25-37. P. Cartledge, Sparta and Lakonia: A Regional History 1300-362 BC. 2nd Edition (London, 2002). P. Cartledge, ‘The Helots: A Contemporary Review’, in K. Bradley, and P. Cartledge (eds.) The Cambridge World History of Slavery, Volume 1: The Ancient Mediterranean World (Cambridge, 2011), 74-90.

A. Chaniotis, T. Corsten, N. Papazarkadas, and R.A Tybout, “SEG 63-318. Phigaleia. Manumission record, 460-450 B.C.?”, A. Chaniotis, T. Corsten, E. Stavrianopolou, N. Papazarkadas (eds.) Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum (Leiden, 2012). J. M. Hall, ‘Sparta, Lakedaimon and the Nature of Perioikic Dependency’, P. Flensted-Jensen (ed.) Further Studies in the Ancient Greek Polis (Stuttgart, 2000), 73-90. S. Hodkinson, Property and Wealth in, 1978). Classical Sparta (London, 2000). K. Hopkins, Conqueror and Slaves (Cambridge P. Hunt, ‘The Slaves and the Generals of Arginusae’, The American Journal of Philology, vol. 122 (2001), 359-80. L. H. Jeffery, The Local Scripts of Archaic Greece. Revised Edition. (Cambridge, 1981). N. Luraghi, ‘Helotic slavery reconsidered’, A. Powell, S. Hodkinson (eds.) Sparta: Beyond the Mirage (London, 2002), 227-248. D. M. MacDowell, Spartan Law (Edinburgh, 1986). E. G. Millender, ‘Spartan Literacy Revisited’, Classical Antiquity, vol. 20 (2001), 121-64. C. T. Newton, The Collection of Ancient Greek Inscriptions in the British Museum (Oxford, 1874). R. Thomas, Oral Tradition and the Written Record in Classical Athens (Cambridge, 1989). R. Zelnick-Abramovitz, Not Wholly Free (Leiden, 2005).

By Owain Williams

THE PALMYRENE TARIFF DATED 137 CE: A GLIMPSE OF THE LIFE IN A GREAT CITY OF THE ROMAN EAST Findspot: Palmyra. Current location: The state hermitage museum, St Petersburg, Russia. Dimension: 640x200cm. Material: Marble.

Heading(ii1-2, panel ii) [᾽Επί αὐτοκράτοπος Καίσαρος θεοῦ Τρ]αιανο[ῦ Παρθι]κοῦ υἰο[ῦ, θε]ο[ῦ Νέρουα υἰωνοῦ, Τραιανοῦ Ἀδριανοῦ Σεβαστοῦ, ἀρχιερέως μεγίστου, δημαρχικῆσ ἐξοθσίας. τό κά, αὐτοκράτορος τό β´, ὐπ]άτοθ τό γ´, π[ατ]ρός πατρίδος, ὐπάτω[ν Λ. Αἰλίου Καί]σαρος [το β´ Πουβ]λίου Κοιλί[ου Βαλβίνου]

Main publications: PAT 0259; CIS ii. 3913; NSI no. 147.

Introduction The bilingual inscription in Aramaic and Greek is the longest Palmyrene inscription ever found (Healy 2009: 164), which was recognized instantly as a major source for economic history as well as Aramaic philology (Gawlikowski 2014: 415). In 1882, Russian prince Simon Abamelek-Lazarev was shown the inscribed stone, which he unearthed and took a paper imprint afterwards (ibid). Twenty years after the discovery, Imperial Russian diplomacy managed to obtain Sultan’s permission to remove the inscription to St Petersburg as a gift (Gawlikowski 2014:416). It is then kept by the stage hermitage museum in St Petersburg. In A.D. 137, the council of Palmyra made the tariff to renew the regulations, according to which dues were levied on goods brought into and exported from the city and the services provided (Matthews 1984: 157). The main part of the bilingual text in Aramaic and Greek lists the items and the tax price clearly and separately, and the heading dating to the reign of Hadrian (117-38 CE), the decree from Palmyrene council including details of officials, and the old law and edict as comparison are also included into the text. According to Matthews, this tariff is ‘one of the most important single items of evidence for the economic life of any part of the Roman empire, and social life of a great middle-eastern city’ (ibid). The text reveals both economic life and social life of Palmyra city. The tariff indicates the common goods transferring through the middle-east (including slaves, fleece, unguent, olive oil, etc.), and the value of different goods according to their tax. Meanwhile, the heading and the decree of Palmyrene council reveals the ruler class of Palmyra, when it was seven years after Palmyra was visited by Hadrian and attained free status (Levick 2000: 100). The heading, the decree and the tariff together make this text a vivid glimpse of the economic and social life of the great city Palmyra. The location and the aim of the inscription is also related. The location of the tariff (Figure I) was opposite the eastern angle of the Agora and the gate located there (Gawlikowski 2014: 420). Located beside the main street in the city and the Agora, the tariff that higher than a man is eye-catching and essential in citizen’s life. The purpose for setting the tariff is stated in the heading, that this was for the sake of averting the disputes that had arisen between the tax collectors and the merchants, tradesmen and others from whom the taxes were due (Matthews 1984: 157). Therefore, the location between the main street of the city and the Agora is the significant place to let every merchants entering the city from the main street to see and to show the power of council in such a important public place.

Main Greek text (i1-13, panel i) 1 [Ἔτ]ους ημυ´, μηνός Σανδικοῦ ιή. Δόγμα βουλῆς. 2 Ἐπί Βωννέους Βωννέους τοῦ Αἰράνου προέδρου, Ἀλεξάνδρου Ἀλεξάνδρου τοῦ 3 Φιλοπάτορος γραμματέω βουλῆς και δήμου, Μαλίχου Ὀλαιοῦς και Ζεβείδου Νεςᾶ ἀρχόν4 των, βουλῆ[σ] νομίμου ἀγομένης, ἐψηφίσθη τά ὐποτεταγμένα. ἐπειδή [ἐν το]ῖς πάλαι χρόνοις. 5 ἐν τῶ τε[λω]νικῶ πλεῖστα τῶν ὐποτελῶν ούκ ἀνελήμφθη, ἐπράσ[σετο] δ[έ ἐ]κ συνηθείας, ἐν6 γραφομέ[νου] τῆ μισθώσει τον τελωνούτα την πρᾶξιν ποιεῖσθει ἀκολούθ[ω]σ τῶ νόμω και τῆ 7 συνηθεία, συνέβαινεν δε πλειστάκις περί τούτου ζητήσεις γενέσθ[αιμε]ταξύ τῶν ἐνπόρων 8 πρός τούς τελώνας δεδόχθαι τούς ἐνεστῶτας ἄρχοντας καί δ[εκα]πρώτους διακρείνοντας 9 τά μη ἀνειλημμένα τῶ νομῶ ἐνγράψαι τῆ ἔνγιστα μισθώσει καί ὐποτάξαι ἐκάστω εἴδει το 10 ἐκ συνηθείας τέλος, καί ἐπειδάν κυρωθῆ τῶ μισθουμένω, ἐνγραφῆναι μετά τοῦ πρώτου νό11 μου στήλη λιθίνη τῆ οὔση ἀντικρύς ἰερ[οῦ] λεγομένου ᾽Ραβασείρη, ἐπιμελεῖσθαι δε τούς τυγχά12 νοντας κατά καιρόν ἄρχοντας καί δεκαπρώτους καί συνδίκο[υς τοῦ] μηδέν παραπράσσειν 13 τόν μισθούμενον.

Yue Chen Durham University

Translation (Matthew 1984: 173):

In the reign of the Emperor Caesar Traianus Hadrianus Augustus, son of the deified Traianus Parthicus, grandson of the deified Nerva, in the twenty-first year of his tribunician power, twice hailed imperator, three times consul, pater patriae, in the consulships of L. Aelius Caesar for the second time and Publius Coelius Balbinus. In the year 448, on the 18th of the month Xandikos. Decree of the council. In the presidency of Bonnes, son of Bonnes, son of Hairanos, the secretary of the council and people being Alexandros, son of Alexandros, son of Philopator, in the magistracies of Malichos, son of Olaies, and Zebeidas, son of Nesa, at a statutory meeting of the council, it was decreed as follows: Since in former times most of the dues were not set down in the tax law but were exacted by convention, it being written into the contract that the tax collector should make his exactions in accordance with the law and with custom, and it frequently happened that disputes arose on this matter between the merchants and the tax collectors, it is resolved that the magistrates in office and the dekaprotoi should determine the dues not set down in the law and write them into the next contract, and assign to each class of goods the tax laid down by custom; and that when they have been confirmed by the contractor they should be written down together with the first law on the stone column opposite the temple called Rabaseire; and that the magistrates who are in office at any time and the dekaprotoi and syndics should take care to see that the contractor does not exact any excess charge.

Figure I (Gawlikoeski 2011: 423)

Historical background Palmyra’s origin remains obscure and possibly has a relationship with its location and spring. According to Josephus, it was Solomon who founded the place for the sake of the water resource (Kaizer 2015: 881). However, this main literary source concerning the origin of Palmyra might be wrong, since his account was based on confusion in the Scriptures (ibid). Another saying is that a settlement called Tadmor is mentioned around eighteenth century BC, when Amorites settled at the spring (Dien 2013). Therefore, although the origin is not clearly stated in the literary source, it seems that the beginning of the city has a relationship with its water resource. In the pre-Roman period, Palmyra’s wealth was already resulted from worldwide trade (Kaizer 2015: 887). However, it was in the first century A.D. that Palmyra became a prosperous city because of the development of its caravan trade (Dien 2013). Located in Tadmorean Desert, the Euphrates River running to the east permitted traffic by river to come in through the Persian Gulf from northwest India and beyond (ibid). Meanwhile, the Tadmorean mountain ranging from the north, west and southwest means that the southern road will came through Palmyra and became the hub of a series of roads (ibid). Therefore, the city of Palmyra, especially after the Roman period, could be considered as a caravan city (Millar 1998: 121) because of its location and the nature of city. The tariff thus became essential for a caravan city’s government since tax was an important part of income. The nature of the city as a caravan city makes the tariff more significant for Palmyra. Bibliography: Dien, A. ‘Palmyra as a caravan city’, Washington University, 2013. Gawlikowski, M. ‘Palmyra: Reexcavating the Site of the Tariff (Fieldwork in 2010 and 2011)’, Polish Archaeology in the Mediterranean 23/1, 2014 Healey, J. F. Aramaic Inscriptions &Documents of the Roman Period. Textbook of Syrian Semitic Inscriptions IV, Oxford: OUP Oxford, 2010. Kaizer, T. ‘On the Origins of Palmyra and its Trade’, Journal of Roman Archaeology, vol.28, 2015. Lecick, B. The Government of the Roman Empire. A Sourcebook, London: Routledge, 2000. Matthews, J. F. ‘The Tax Law of Palmyra: Evidence for Economic History in a City of the Roman East’, Journal of Roman Studies, vol.74, 1984. Millar, F. ‘Caravan cities: the Roman Near East and long-distance trade by land’ in M. Austin, J. Harries and C. Smith, Modus Operandi: Essays in honor of Geoffrey Rickman. BICS Suppl.71, London, 1998, p.121.

New law (Panel IIIa & IIIb ): 1 From those importing slaves into Palmyra or the borders of Palmyra, he will exact for each person, 22 den. 4 From one selling slaves in the city [not?] for export, for each person, 12 den. 6 From one selling veteran slaves, 10 den. And if the purchaser exports the slaves, he will exact for each person, 12 den. 9 The said tax collector will exact for each camel-load of dried produce imported, [3] den. For each camelload exported, 3 den. 14 For each donkey-load imported, [?2] den. Exported, [?2] den. 16 For purple-dyed fleece, for each skin imported, he will exact 8 asses. Exported, 8 asses. 19 For a camel-load of unguent imported in alabaster vessels, he will exact 25 den. And for each camel-load exported, 13 den. 23 For a camel-load of unguent imported in goat-skins, he will exact 13 den. Exported, [?7] den. 26 For a donkey-load of unguent imported in alabaster vessels, he will exact 13 den. Exported, 7 den. 29 For a donkey-load of unguent imported in goat-skins, he will exact 7 den. Exported, he will exact 4 den. 32 For a load of olive oil imported by camel in four goatskins, he will exact 13 den. Exported, 1[3] den. 36 For a load of olive oil imported by camel in two goatskins, he will exact [?7] den. Exported, [?7] den. 40 For a load of olive oil imported by donkey, he will exact 7 den. Exported, [7] den. 43 For a load of animal fat imported by camel in four goatskins, he will exact 13 den. Exported, 13 den. 46 For a load of animal fat imported by camel in two goatskins, he will exact 7 den.|| Exported, 7 den. 49 For a load of animal fat imported by donkey, he will exact ?7den. Exported 7 den. 52 For a load of salt fish imported by camel, he will exact 10 den. Exported, he will excat[………] 75 The said tax collector will exact from prostitutes who receive one denarius or more, from each woman, 1 den. 78 From those who receive eight asses, [he will exact] 8 asses. 79 From those who receive six asses, form each woman, 6 asses. 80 The said tax collector will exact from workshops, [………] general stores, leather [-worker’s shops………] according to custom, from each workshop per month, 1 den. 84 From those importing or selling skins, for each skin, 2 asses. 86 Similarly, sellers of clothing who pursue their trade moving about the city shall pay to the tax collector the appropriate tax. 88 For the use of the two water sources, each year 800 den. 89 The said tax collector will exact for each camel-load, for each trip, 1 den. 92 For a camel brought in unloaded, he will exact 1 den. According to the exaction laid down by Cilix, freedman of Caesar.

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Many thanks to our exhibitors: Zara Binji, Harri Thomas, Abigail Spanner, Owain Williams, and Chen Yue. Images included in the posters here are used for non-commercial educational purposes under fair dealing. None of the material included in this exhibition should be reproduced or disseminated without permission.