Animus Classics Journal: Vol. 2, Issue 2

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.


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.


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


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.


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.


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.


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.




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.


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.



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.


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


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.


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.


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.


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


17 Catalli, 465.

18 Hackens, “La métrologie des monnaies étrusques les plus anciennes”, 221.


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.


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.


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



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.



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.


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.


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.


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.


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.”


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.


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


34 Halbherr, XIV. Pozzuoli, 167–168.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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).


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.


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.


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.


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

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