Making Kleos mortal: Archaic Attic funerary monuments and the construction of social memory

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Los Angeles

Making Kleos Mortal: Archaic Attic Funerary Monuments and the Construction of Social Memory

A dissertation submitted in partial satisfaction of the requirements for the degree Doctor of Philosophy in Classics

by

Renee Marie Calkins

2010

UMI Number: 3431825

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Sarah P. Morris

David D. Phillips

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Alex C. Purves

John KRPapadopoulos, Committee Chair

University of California, Los Angeles 2010

11

TABLE OF CONTENTS Page List of Figures

v

Acknowledgments

ix

Introduction: Making Kleos Mortal

1

Sources The Commemorative Toolbox

8 15

Chapter Outline

19

Chapter 1: Homeric Monuments and Ritual

25

Homeric Zriuaxa: Definition, Construction and Function Objects and Kleos The Ideal Funerary Monument The Monument as a Symbol of the Deceased Polysemy The Greek Wall: Dispersal and Destruction of Kleos The Forces of Nature Invisible Death Funerary Ritual and Building the Monument Conclusion Chapter 2: Pots and Pyres: Visualizing Death in Attic Funerary Commemoration

29 33 35 45 50 56 60 64 71 82 83

Iron Age Precursors The Human Figure on Late Geometric Pottery When Monsters Take Over Conclusion Chapter 3: The Living Persona: Iconography, Social Ritual and Sculpture The Sculptural Evidence Documenting Collective Memory in Stone The Institutionalization of Funerary Commemoration The Value of the Generic Type The Sum of All Motifs Conclusion Chapter 4: Little Things that Count: Vases, Plaques and Inscribed Bases

iii

93 106 121 138 140 148 156 160 166 173 187 189

Burials of Children Commemorative Pottery and the Funeral Inscription Conclusion

196 212 226 241

Chapter 5: Social Forgetting: Purposeful Destruction and Redefinition Through Commemoration

242

Purposeful Destruction Before the Persian Wars Redefinition of Commemorative Forms after the Persian Wars Conclusion

248 255 268

Figures

271

Appendix 1: Catalog of Iconography of Seventh- and Sixth-Century B.C. Burials in the Athenian Kerameikos

311

Bibliography

338

iv

LIST OF FIGURES Page Figure 0. la-b: "Dipylon Amphora," dated ca. 750 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 804.

272

Figure 2.1: Evolution of trench-and-hole grave architecture during the Protogeometric period in the Athenian Kerameikos.

273

Figure 2.2: Cinerary amphora and iron grave goods from the "Warrior Burial," Grave 13 (formerly Grave XXVII) from the Athenian Agora, dated ca. 900 B.C., Agora Museum, Athens.

274

Figure 2.3: Grave goods from the grave of the "Rich Athenian Lady," Agora Grave H 16: 6, dated ca. 850 B.C., Agora Museum, Athens.

275

Figure 2.4: Ekphora scene on a Late Geometric krater with male and female mourners and chariot frieze, dated ca. 750 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 990.

276

Figure 2.5: Mound K and offering trench £ in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 640 B.C.

277

Figure 2.6: Grabbau k with plastered exterior over a cremation burial in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 660 B.C.

278

Figure 2.7: Sphinx on a Protoattic krater (Kerameikos inv. no. 801) associated with Grabbau x in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 630 B.C.

279

Figure 2.8: Antithetical sphinxes, warriors, dancing women, lyre-player and seated figure on a Protoattic skyphos from Dipylon Grave VI, dated ca. 630 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 4881.

280

Figure 2.9: Nude youth confronting a sphinx on a black-figure lekythos (Kerameikos inv. no. 1707) from a child's grave in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 500 B.C.

281

Figure 2.10: Man confronting a siren on a black-figure kotyle (Kerameikos inv. no. 46) from offering place Y in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 580 B.C.

282

Figure 2.11: Monumental Protoattic amphora decorated with scenes recognizable from the myths of Perseus and Odysseus and wild beasts that was used as a burial vessel for a child at Eleusis, dated ca. 650 B.C., Eleusis Museum, no.

283

v

544. Figure 3.1: Panathenaic amphora, dated ca. 490-480 B.C., Getty Villa Museum, Malibu, no. 77.AE.9.

284

Figure 3.2: Horse-head amphora (Kerameikos inv. no. 7056) from a child's grave in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated early sixth century B.C.

285

Figure 3.3a-b: The stele for Antiphanes, dated ca. 530 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 86.

286

Figure 3.4: Inscribed and plastered limestone stele, originally painted, from the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 600-550 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. PI 133.

287

Figure 3.5: Archaic marble lion sculpture discovered near the Sacred Gate in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 590-580, Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. P1599.

288

Figure 3.6: Limestone stele decorated with relief sculpture retaining traces of the original paint, fragments discovered at the edges of Tumulus G in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 570-560 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. PI 132.

289

Figure 3.7: Archaic Attic funerary stele with a man holding a spear in the central zone and a gorgon in the praedella, discovered in the Themistoklean wall, dated ca. 560-550 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 2687.

290

Figure 3.8: Kouros for Kroisos, dated ca. 530-520 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 3851.

291

Figure 3.9: White-ground lekythos showing mourners (or a mourner and the deceased?) at a tombstone with stepped base decorated with vases in front of a stylized tumulus, dated ca. 450-440 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 1935.

292

Figure 3.10: Painted stele for Lyseas, dated ca. 525-500 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 30.

293

Figure 3.11: Equestrian statue that may have stood on the inscribed base for Xenophantos, dated ca. 530-520 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. P6999 and 1389.

294

Figure 3.12: "Riders Base" for a stele with relief decoration, discovered in the

295

vi

Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 560 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. P1001. Figure 3.13: "Athletes Base" for a kouros with relief decoration, dated ca. 510 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 3476.

296

Figure 3.14: "Apobates Base" for a kouros with relief decoration, dated ca. 500 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 3477.

297

Figure 3.15: "Lion-Attack Base" for a kouros with relief decoration, dated ca.

298

510 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. P1002. Figure 3.16: Early Athenian coins featuring gorgoneia.

299

Figure 4.1: Black-figure phormiskos decorated with a prothesis scene, dated ca. 510 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. 691. Figure 4.2a-c: "Brother and Sister Stele," dated ca. 530 B.C., Metropolitan Museum, New York, no. 11.185a-d, f, g, x.

300 301

Figure 4.3: Wrestlers on a black-figure lekythos (Kerameikos inv. no. 1472) from a shaft grave in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 540 B.C.

302

Figure 4.4a-b: Kore for Phrasikleia and inscribed base, dated ca. 550 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 4889.

303

Figure 4.5: Black-figure loutrophoros by the Sappho Painter showing prothesis, burial, tomb scene and chariot race, dated ca. 500-490 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 450.

304

Figure 4.6: Black-figure pinax decorated with a prothesis scene and chariot race, dated ca. 500 B.C., Metropolitan Museum, New York, no. 54.11.5.

305

Figure 4.7: Black-figure "Areios" pinax, decorated with a valediction scene, dated ca. 530 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 2410.

306

Figure 4.8: Valediction scene on a black-figure plate (Kerameikos inv. no. 1909) from the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 550 B.C.

307

Figure 4.9: Black-figure pinax decorated with a prothesis scene, dated ca. 500 B.C., Louvre, Paris, no. MNB 905.

308

Figure 4.10: Detail of the inscribed base for the kouros for Kroisos, dated ca. 530-520 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 4754.

309

vii

Figure 5.1: View of the column drums and metopes from the destroyed temple that were later built into a retaining wall on the slope of the Athenian Akropolis.

viii

310

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Commemoration lies at the heart of this dissertation, and thus it is fitting to remember those who have inspired and patiently guided me throughout its production. The seed of this project first took root in one of John Papadopoulos' graduate seminars, and the extent of its growth is a direct result of the discerning criticism and thoughtprovoking insight that he has provided ever since. The project would not have been possible except in a department that embraces interdisciplinary approaches to the classical tradition, and Sarah Morris made me feel particularly welcome when I began exploring the material side of ancient Greek culture. Both Professor Papadopoulos and Morris have been consistently generous with their time and knowledge, and I am greatly indebted to their tutelage, which has extended beyond UCLA to the Getty museums nearby and across the world to Athens. This dissertation also could not have taken shape without the philological expertise of Alex Purves, who has provided direction in literary theory, and David Phillips, who could always be counted on for attention to detail in matters of translation and the subtleties of Athenian law. I am indebted as well to the American School of Classical Studies at Athens for the opportunity to participate in the Summer Session program under the direction of Judy Barringer and Hans Goette. Their enthusiasm for multidimensional approaches to the ancient Greek world was a great source of inspiration to me as I began learning to engage with the material evidence first-hand. I am additionally grateful to Professor Barringer for the many conversations in Athens beyond the conclusion of the program. Her acuity was

ix

tremendously helpful as I struggled to focus an interdisciplinary approach to funerary commemoration. It was the languages and literatures of Greece and Rome that initially provoked my interest in Classics, and I must include a note of thanks to the many faculty members in the Classics department at UCLA whose doors have always been open for quick (and sometimes not so quick) consultations on different aspects of my training and research. In particular, Michael Haslam, Steven Lattimore, Katherine King, and Bernie Frischer nurtured my curiosity about the ancient Mediterranean in its early stages; Kathryn Morgan, Sander Goldberg, Robert Gurval and Amy Richlin have taught me how to translate that curiosity into enthusiasm in the classroom. The translations and photographs in this dissertation are my own except where noted otherwise. Citations of literary sources follow the Oxford Classical Text editions, with the exception of the citations of Pindar, which have been taken from the Teubner edition. Transcripts of Attic inscriptions are from IG I3 {Inscriptiones Atticae Euclidis anno anteriores, 3rd ed.). For images that are not my own, I am particularly indebted to Jacquelyn Clements for the photographs she took at the Metropolitan Museum in New York and Dr. Joachim Heiden of the German Archaeological Institute (Deutsche Archaologische Institut), who has been very generous in granting me permission to use copies of photographs and illustrations from the Institute's archives.

x

VITA 1993

B.A., Literature-Writing UC San Diego San Diego, CA

2005

M.A., Classics UC Los Angeles Los Angeles, CA

2003-2006

Graduate Research Fellow, UCLA Experiential Technologies Center

2007

American School of Classical Studies at Athens, Summer Session II Field Scholarship recipient

2008

C.Phil., Classics UC Los Angeles Los Angeles, CA

2009

Ohio State University Summer Epigraphy Seminar

2010

UCLA Classics Department Teaching Assistant Consultant

xi

ABSTRACT OF THE DISSERTATION

Making Kleos Mortal: Archaic Attic Funerary Monuments and the Construction of Social Memory

by

Renee Marie Calkins Doctor of Philosophy in Classics University of California, Los Angeles, 2010 Professor John K. Papadopoulos, Chair

Greek funerary monuments have traditionally been analyzed from an art historical perspective or for any evidence that they may provide of belief in an afterlife. These approaches have made valuable contributions, but have tended to approach funerary commemoration piecemeal and not as fully integrated into the lived experiences of community members. When the constituent elements are instead viewed as invocations of various social matrices, the complete funerary assemblage becomes clear as a means of locating the deceased within a gendered social hierarchy and providing a model for the

xii

living taking over his or her vacated social roles. Through the study of literary, material and epigraphic evidence structured by the theory of social memory, the Archaic Attic gravestone emerges as a focal point in the landscape of the living community through which individual identity was ritually defined and family relationships displayed. More than just a means of dealing with grief at the loss of a family member, the funerary rites and monuments gave the dead a presence in close proximity to the living and were instrumental in the re-allocation of social roles among surviving community members that was necessitated by the loss of one of their own.

xiii

Introduction Making Kleos Mortal

The reference to kleos aphthiton in the title of this study derives not from an interest in contributing to the scholarship on Homeric formulae and the Indo-European tradition of heroic poetry, but rather from the desire to bring the discussion of funerary commemoration out of the heroic and eschatological spheres and into the realm of Archaic Athenian realia within their social context. Throughout the development of the Archaic city, real people commemorated real decedents as part of their efforts to negotiate the matrix of resources, status and identity in the community. Funerary rites and monuments stand at the center of these social negotiations and thus provide the focus for this inquiry. Few people in western Europe or North America today would justify claims to social status or property through reference to the funerals that they organized for deceased family members, let alone cite tombstones in cemeteries in order to verify their citizenship status. But these are exactly the sort of things ancient Athenians did do. They constructed many aspects of identity in relation to the dead: where to live, what property they possessed more generally, what occupation(s) to pursue, who would be friends, who rivals, and whom to marry. Remembering the dead was part of life in Archaic Athens, but not everyone was remembered with an equal investment in commemoration. I have adopted an interdisciplinary approach incorporating studies by Jack Goody, James Fentress and Chris Wickham, and Peter Metcalf and Richard Huntington in order to highlight the interaction between funerary commemoration and the institutions of a

2

gendered social hierarchy through which the living defined their identity in relation to the dead.1 Perpetuating memory of the deceased with an earth mound and public rites is a primary motif in the poetry of Homer, in which kleos, the repute of great heroes, becomes immortal. After it was recognized that the phrase kleos aphthiton (undying fame) had a parallel in the Rigveda, the expression found a prominent position in studies by scholars like Gregory Nagy and Calvert Watkins, who have connected the phrase to the common theme of heroic fame in Indo-European poetry.2 Other scholars, such as Margalit Finkelberg, Anthony Edwards and Katharina Volk,3 have debated where the expression should be located along the spectrum of formulae and formulaic language in oral tradition. These linguistic discussions of the expression have built on the important contributions of Albert Lord and Milman Parry, who originally elucidated the influence of oral compositional techniques on the Homeric poems.4 The tradition of heroic fame in Indo-European poetry, however, has little bearing on the present study, which examines the value of funerary commemoration to the living within the context of Archaic Athens. Scholars traditionally have analyzed Greek tomb markers for what they can tell us about afterlife beliefs and social structure, or from an art historical perspective for the development of naturalism and narrative in Greek art. These studies have revealed how the Greeks may have thought about death, whether they believed in an afterlife, how beliefs likely changed over time, and influences on the depiction of the human form in 1

Goody 1962; Fentress and Wickham 1992; Metcalf and Huntington 1991. Nagy 1990: 122-127; Watkins 1995: 173-178. 3 Finkelberg 1986 and 2007; Edwards 1988; Volk 2002. 4 Lord 2000 [I960]; Parry 1987 [1971]. 2

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art. The bibliography on the topics is extensive, but a selective discussion of scholarship will demonstrate the major trends. Emily Vermeule,5 for example, has brought out the inconsistencies in representations of the underworld in early art and literature, and some of the ways grave cult mediated the relationship between the dead and the living. Her observations make important connections between literary representations of the afterlife, artistic representations, and the close associations between poetry, lamentation and memory. Her ultimate conclusions are eschatological—that treatment of the corpse took precedence over the fate of the soul before the fifth century B.C. Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood similarly adopts a Panhellenic approach but focuses on grave markers, symbolic representation of the dead, and patterns in epitaphs from their first appearance into the Classical period.6 An important result of her work is that she highlights the large number of early epitaphs commemorating those who died before completing a full life cycle. Once again the central argument is eschatological; her conclusion is that the monument compensates for an unfulfilled life through survival in the memory of the living.7 Katharine Derderian, who has also undertaken a broad survey of funerary commemoration from Homer to Classical Athens, argues that the development of inscribed markers in Archaic Attica is in some ways a response to the polysemic funerary mounds described in Homer. She ties social developments to commemorative forms and sees in the Archaic epigrams "a marked emphasis on the collective relevance of individual death."8 A focal point of her argument is that the 5

Vermeule 1979. Sourvinou-Inwood 1996. 7 Sourvinou-Inwood 1996: 288-290. 8 Derderian 2001: 95. 6

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changes in funerary commemoration were a reflection of the subjugation of women in Archaic Attic society. She thus argues that the ritual acts at the tomb, and lamentation in particular, were a temporary female mode of commemoration, which was subordinated to lasting "male" tomb-construction and speeches. Dederian does not address the full array of commemorative strategies that were operative during the Archaic period, and Karen Stears has cautioned against interpreting female roles in commemoration as in any way subordinate.9 This study thus combines an anthropological approach to funerary commemoration with an interdisciplinary examination of its various elements. The Archaic monumental assemblage—the sum of earth works, grave goods and gravestone—thus emerges as a multi-faceted marker of collective memory with an authoritative presence in the living community. Sculpture and pottery were important components of the funerary assemblage, but early scholarship tended to focus on classification schemes for each category separately with little consideration of the broader social context. Adolf Furtwangler10 concentrated on the attribution of sculpture to artists known from the literary record, and Nicolas Coldstream11 produced a valuable foundation for the classification and chronology of Geometric pottery. John Beazley employed even more subtle stylistic distinctions in order to classify black- and red-figure vase-painting by artists.12 Rather than categorization by attribution, Gisela Richter, who worked under the assumptions that naturalism was the goal and adequate techniques to achieve it were only progressively 9

Stears 1998. Furtwangler 1964 [1895]. 11 Coldstream 1968. 12 Beazley 1963 and 1978. 10

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acquired, produced several influential handbooks that arranged extant sculpture into a relative chronology based on stylistic features for each major genre: kouroi (nude young males), korai (clothed young females), and gravestones (focused on the relief sculpture of stelai).13 Subsequent scholars have reassessed the trend towards naturalism in both sculpture and vase-painting, and the general consensus currently is to see realism as "almost the accidental by-product of their progress towards the most effective symbols or images of their men and gods."14 Artistic representation was directly connected to the interests of the society that produced them. Social phenomena are the primary concern of anthropologists, and the universal human confrontation with death has led some to look for universal patterns in the way the loss of community members is negotiated. Arnold Van Gennep, in a seminal 1908 study, applied his three-fold division of rites of passage to an interpretation of funerary ritual.15 The result was an unexpected observation that rites marking the transitional period, in which an individual moves from being recognized as one of the living to one of the dead, frequently are more elaborate than the initial ritual marking death as separation.16 Elaborate rituals that redefine the status of the deceased are a feature of many cultures, but there has also come to light an awareness that the practices of any social group cannot be separated from their cultural context.

13

Richter and Richter 1970 [1942]; Richter 1988 [1968] and 1944. Boardman, 1978: 66; Hurwit [1985: 22] also denies that realism was the goal and judges "that Archaic art headed toward the naturalistic despite an obstinate struggle to maintain the rule of schema and pattern." Neer [2002: 28-32] warns against viewing the more naturalistic style of Classical vase painting as the goal of Archaic artists, who would not have been able to conceive of a style that had not yet appeared. 15 Van Gennep 1960 [1908]. 16 Van Gennep 1960 [1908]: 146. 14

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Ideas about death as a transitional process and rituals reflecting that process are not universal, and other anthropologists like Robert Hertz, who was similarly concerned with the transitional phase of ritual,17 recognized early on the importance of examining funerary rites within their context of application. Hertz thus focused his studies on the significance of secondary burial on the communities of Borneo, where the period during the transformation of the corpse into dry bones was viewed as intermediary between life and death.18 The expression of grief and beliefs about the afterlife are central concerns in the work of Van Gennep and Hertz and cannot be denied an integral role in funerary ritual, but they do not explain all the observed variations in mortuary practices. Metcalf and Huntington summarize the problem well: [T]he need to release aggression, or break ties with the deceased, or complete any other putatively universal psychic process does not serve to explain funerals. The shoe is on the other foot. Whatever mental adjustments the individual needs to make in the face of death he or she must accomplish as best he or she can through or around such rituals as society provides. No doubt the rites frequently aid adjustment. But we have no reason to believe that they do not obstruct it with equal frequency.19 Detailed examinations of community members involved in mortuary rites, the ritualized tasks they perform, and what strategies, if any, they use to perpetuate memory of the deceased in different cultures have highlighted the broader social concerns that may be addressed through funerary ritual and commemorative objects. Jack Goody incorporated Hertz's model of redefinition in formulating one of the central questions he sought to answer, namely how funerary rituals reconcile the ongoing

17

Van Gennep [1960:190n] recognized their shared interest. Hertz 1907. 19 Metcalf and Huntington 1991: 62.

18

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nature of society with the impermanence of its constituent members. Goody does not deny the eschatological beliefs at work in the funerary rituals of the people he studied, but his work brings to light the important role played by mortuary practices in reformulating the structure of social groups to accommodate the loss of a member. The goals of his study on the LoDagaa culture of Ghana closely align with my own interests in Archaic Attic funerary commemoration. His detailed examination of a culture that, like Archaic Athens, relied on oral tradition and monument construction in order to perpetuate memory of the dead selectively thus provides a valuable source of cross-cultural comparison. More than just a means of dealing with grief at the loss of a family member, the rites and monuments of Archaic Attica were instrumental in reallocating social roles and resources necessitated by the death of particular community members.

Sources By the end of the Archaic period in Attica, the stele on an inscribed base had emerged as the dominant form for elite funerary markers, though statues were also common and share many of the same basic elements. The inscribed bases, nearly always separated from the sculpture they originally attended and removed from their original context, provide the best contemporary textual evidence but offer frustratingly little information regarding the rites marked by the construction of the monument. The Homeric poems, in contrast, the result of a continuously evolving oral tradition that seems to have been fixed sometime in the eighth or seventh century B.C., provide

20

Goody 1962:26.

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tantalizing details about funerary ritual but cannot be firmly tied to a specific cultural context. The poems nonetheless have been shown to have Panhellenic significance during the period under investigation,21 and Richard Seaford in particular has argued that the versions of the poems we possess were strongly influenced by the development of social institutions in Archaic Athens.22 He examines the Homeric epics along with Attic tragedy and concludes that "we may detect in the tradition of Greek epic poetry a development culminating in our Iliad and Odyssey, that was influenced by the development of the citystate."23 Ideology preserved in the poems thus is of use for elucidating the connections between monuments and perpetuation of collective memory, the knowledge shared by members of a community that is central to the value of commemoration among the living. Whether or not the Homeric poems provide any reliable evidence for the practices of ancient Greek communities has long been debated by scholars on two primary fronts: descriptions of artifacts and institutions in the poems have been compared to the archaeological evidence, and the poetic composition has been compared to modern studies of cultures that rely on oral tradition rather than writing to transmit knowledge to successive generations. Archaeology has confirmed that the practices described in the Homeric poems do not precisely match the customs of a specific ancient Greek community in any period, and one of the most extensive discussions regarding the historical elements in the poems has been provided by Hilda Lockhart Lorimer in Homer

21

In the fifth century, Herodotos, credits Homer and Hesiod with creation of the canonical Greek pantheon (2.53.2). The influence of these two poets, furthermore, has been connected by scholars to the rise of Panhellenic sanctuaries and festivals at which poetic competitions were held in the eighth century (Snodgrass 2000a: 421; Nagy 1990: 10 and 36-38). 22 Seaford 1994. 23 Seaford 1994:144.

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and the Monuments.

After comparing numerous aspects of the material record (ethnic

interactions, burial practices, metal craft, writing, weaponry, etc.) from ca. 1700 to 700 B.C. to descriptions provided by the poems, she concluded that fewer features of Greek Bronze Age culture are preserved in the poems than had previously been supposed. Alan Wace, editor of the first Companion to Homer, endorsed the view that the substance of the Homeric poems had been largely derived from Bronze-Age practices, even though the Companion was published long after Lorimer's study.25 Other scholars have followed the work of Lorimer, with the result that some practices in the poems, such as certain elements of war craft and the use of bronze, have been shown to reflect Bronze Age Mycenaean traditions, but others bear a closer resemblance to the practices of the Early Iron Age. The realm of mortuary customs provides some of the most striking examples of a mixed tradition and has gained some measure of support through the material record. Contemporary with Lorimer and more specifically focused on burial practices, George Mylonas proposed that Homeric funerary mounds were inspired by Mycenaean tholoi (beehive-shaped tombs) covered with dirt, while cremation and single burial were derived from the poet's own time.26 More recent excavations have uncovered Neolithic cemeteries at Souphli Magoula and Platia Magoula Zarkou in Thessaly,27 which include cremated remains buried in pots and evidence of funerary offerings. The cemeteries 24

Lorimer 1950. Wace and Stubbings 1962: 327-328. Morris and Powell [1997: xiii-xiv] note that World War II and the death of Wace in 1957 likely contributed to the outdated views in the Companion when compared to evaluations of the archaeological evidence, Parry's theories of oral composition, and information provided by the decipherment of Linear B. 26 Mylonas 1948. 27 Gallis 1975; 1982:221-244.

25

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provide some of the earliest examples of cremation in Europe or the Near East, but inhumation was the standard practice during this period. Inhumation remained standard later in the Bronze Age as well when elite members of Mycenaean communities normally inhumed their dead in multiple-burial tholoi or chamber tombs. As a result of comparing textual with archaeological evidence, a general consensus has emerged that the poems are inspired by stories and material remains dating back to the Mycenaean Period, but likely include descriptions of practices and technologies from the era when the poems were written down as well, ca. 750 B.C. In the New Companion to Homer edited by Ian Morris and Barry Powell, John Bennet has summed up the conflict between poetic and material evidence for burial practices as follows: Most striking, in contrast to the picture in Homer's epics, is that inhumation was the exclusive rite throughout Mycenaean Greece in the Bronze Age until its very end, when cremation creeps in. Moreover, tombs designed for multiple use are typical from the late Middle Helladic onwards: the shaft grave type, the tholos tomb, and the chamber tomb. Bennet goes on to explain that Middle Helladic tumuli in Messenia where the dead were buried in pots do in part resemble Homeric descriptions, such as those of the burial mound for Achilles and Patroklos that includes deposition of their cremated remains together in an urn (//. 23.91-92; Od. 24.73-76). Royal burials in the Early Iron Age cemetery at Salamis on Cyprus also show many similarities to the Homeric descriptions, but at least one scholar has attributed the common characteristics to influence by the

Bennet 1997: 250.

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poems. In the organized settlements of Attica, burial practices most similar to those described in Homer have been documented during the Early Iron Age. Cremation became standard in the first millennium B.C., when single, inurned, cremation burial was the dominant practice for adults in the Athenian Kerameikos and continues until ca. 760 B.C.30 The fact that the Homeric poems describe social institutions that are largely invisible to archaeology is one of the qualities that makes their use as evidence so attractive. In addition to comparing descriptions in the poems with the material record, support for the poems as evidence of social institutions has frequently involved the scholarship of two other disciplines: linguistics and anthropology. Evidence from one category, however, sometimes appears to be in conflict with another, and poetic coloring may further obscure any historical reality preserved in the poems. Whereas most archaeologists argue from the material record that cremation is a reflection of the poet's own time period, Nagy has explained the consistent application of cremation in the poems as a remnant of pre-Greek Indo-European practice that was preserved through oral tradition.31 Further complicating the use of the poems as evidence for actual practices is the poet's creation of what James Redfield calls "epic distance," which results from fantastic and seemingly ancient elements that differentiate the world of the heroes from that of the audience.32

29

Coldstream 2003: 349-350. 1. Morris 1987: 18. 31 Nagy 1990: 85. 32 Redfieldl994:36. 30

12

In addition to the archaeological evidence, support for the influence of contemporary social practices on the oral tradition preserved in the poems has come from other linguistic and anthropological studies.33 Modern studies of societies that rely on oral transmission rather than writing to pass on stories and institutions valued in their cultures have shown that the stories are unlikely to contain many elements without contemporary referents. Institutions that have become unfamiliar or irrelevant tend to drop out of the tradition, and changes to the oral record have been observed to occur even when memorization has been institutionalized through formal training to ensure that the "correct" version is transmitted.34 Physical elements like places, in contrast, are more likely to persist because the places continue to exist, though they may lack their former prominence.35 The influence of changing cultural institutions on oral tradition prior to the Early Iron Age when the poems began to be written down makes it likely that the poems contain elements familiar, though not necessarily identical, to those of Early Iron Age Greece. The study of ancient societies can never satisfy the anthropological ideal of observing cultural institutions directly, but the importance of the unique context does not invalidate cross-cultural comparison; instead it provides the limits for its application. As Alison Wylie proposes: My thesis, then, is that though a candid appreciation of limitations is appropriate where analogical inference is concerned, its use in archaeological contexts is neither dispensable nor radically faulty. It can play a legitimate, constructive role in archaeological inquiry if used subject to the methodological constraints that 33

The work of Lord [2000/1960] and Parry [1987/1971]has provided the foundation for studies involving oral poetry by many later scholars, including Jack Goody, Gregory Nagy and Ian Morris. 34 Part of the Bagre oral "text" contains instructions for faithful memorization (Goody 1977). 35 1. Morris 1986: 90; Goody 1977: 37.

13

have been emerging, under pressure of increasingly sharp criticism, since the inception of a methodologically self-critical archaeology.36 The patterns discerned in the study of one culture may provide useful insight into the perspectives of another for which similar social institutions produce similar material expressions. The parallels are especially valuable in the study of ancient cultures, accounts of which must be pieced together primarily from incomplete material remains. Goody gives unequalled attention to the details concerning the transmission of rights and property precipitated by the death of community members occupying particular social roles in the LoDagaa culture. His study thus enables both parallels and points of distinction from ancient Greek practice to be clearly delineated in a cross-cultural comparison. Archaic Attic funerary monuments after all would never have been seen by the deceased. They were constructed by living community members who may, in part, have been responding to afterlife beliefs and taking into account the wishes of the deceased. But the burying group also would have had some very basic needs to satisfy, such as documenting the transfer of social roles and property from the deceased to survivors. The funerary assemblages incorporate a variety of traditional referents in order to represent the position of the deceased within the gendered hierarchy of the community iconographically. The monuments also provided a focal point for the living whose identity was based in part on their relationship to previous generations. Social ties were displayed during funerary rituals that assigned performative roles based on the relationship to the deceased. Collective memory of the rites, and the transfer of social 36

Wyliel985:64.

14

roles and property from one generation to the next were subsequently "documented" through the commemorative assemblage that was constructed at the location of burial. Through the material remains we can see how the living disposed of their dead, the commemorative markers they built, and sometimes the remains of rites performed at the graveside. Archaeology alone, however, cannot tell us which members of the surviving community participated in the funeral and what roles they played. The combination of commemorative ideology expressed in the poems, and comparative evidence from anthropological studies, therefore, provides an avenue for supplementing the burial evidence from Attica in order to fill out the social context that produced the monuments. While Attic rites and monuments do not match the Homeric descriptions in every respect, it is nonetheless likely that the poetic descriptions reflect ideals and commemorative strategies that were similar to those of elite community members in Archaic Athens.

The Commemorative Toolbox In the cemeteries of Greece today one often sees a photograph of the deceased within a shrine on top of the tomb. Such pictorial representations of the deceased did not occur in Archaic cemeteries, nor would they necessarily have been desirable had they been available. When figural representation enters the commemorative repertoire, the emphasis is on identifiable cultural referents drawn from communal ritual and oral tradition, not on depiction of the individual. The so-called "Dipylon Amphora" (Figure 0.1) in the National Museum at Athens most clearly illustrates how pride of place was

15

given to the prothesis scene (lying in state) on Late Geometric funerary vases. The deceased only appears as a shrouded corpse whose qualities are communicated through depiction of the rites performed (or perhaps only claimed to have been performed) in his or her honor. Of particular value to understanding this sort of commemorative program are the structural and thematic parallels between oral poetry and iconography, which were a feature of contemporary Greek society. Both types of composition are based on a system of "traditional referentiality"38 that has been most thoroughly elaborated in the scholarship on orally composed and transmitted poetry. Oral composition takes as its building blocks "noun-epithet formulas [that] are keys or switches—not unlike links on a Web page—that summon a larger context via specialized code. They bring the named persons or objects or places to center stage by idiomatically accessing their traditional identity .. ." Susan Langdon has recently elucidated a similar formulaic system, derived from initiation rituals in particular, that operated in the iconography on a variety of commemorative objects from the Late Geometric period.40 She argues that a demonstrable connection exists between iconographic motifs and social classification: The adoption of Orientalizing monsters into Late Geometric art was not an issue of access but of need. The hero contest provides a new paradigm for maturation that had special meaning for the rising states: the tales are fundamentally about social order.41

Ahlberg-Cornell [1971: 171] observes that the prothesis scene is almost always located in the decorative zone between the handles. Such placement makes it the focus of the overall decorative scheme of the vase. 38 J. Foley 2002: 117. 39 J. Foley 2002: 113 and 121. 40 S. Langdon 2008: 11. 41 S. Langdon 2008: 123.

16

Michael Shanks, who has focused on the iconography of Archaic Korinthian pottery, has similarly argued that animal friezes were not simply decorative. Dangerous animals represent an opposition to social order, and "animal friezes stylise and de-animate their animals, place them under a code, lined up in formal sequence."42 Artistic motifs thus may be a reflection of contemporary social concerns, and the depiction of duels with monsters on terracotta vessels may be an alternative strategy for expressing (consciously or unconsciously) an interest in maintaining social order. When depicted on Archaic Attic funerary objects, the scenes may invoke the heroic paradigm and initiation rites that located the deceased within the gendered social hierarchy and provided a model for the living who would fill the vacated social roles. Invoking traditional referents on commemorative objects, moreover, accords well with the creation and perpetuation of what has variously been termed "collective" or "social" memory. One of the most influential of the early theorists on memory was Maurice Halbwachs, who argued that all memory is structured by group identities and therefore collective.43 Fentress and Wickham prefer to concentrate on "social memory." They accept Halbwach's contention that groups "establishi[sh] an agreed upon version of the past" but argue for an important distinction between the individual cognitive act of recall and commemoration, which is their focus.44 They define the latter "as the action of speaking or writing about memories, as well as the formal re-enaction of the past"45 and additionally make the useful point that societies without writing do not conceive of 42

Shanks 1999: 124. Halbwachs and Halbwachs Alexandre 1950. 44 Halbwachs and Halbwachs Alexandre 1950; Fentress and Wickham 1992: x. 45 Fentress and Wickham 1992: x. 43

17

knowledge as stored in texts.

It is instead stored within people's minds and transmitted

through personal communication, as would have been the case when ancient Greek witnesses testified to having observed the proper performance of funerary rites in Attic courts.47 Theories about the construction of social memory have received increasingly more attention in ancient Greek scholarship, though less than in other areas of historical and archaeological inquiry. In several works on prehistoric England and Scotland, Richard Bradley and Andrew Jones independently of one another have surveyed the mnemonic power of monuments and the transformation of their embodied ideas over time.48 Patrick Geary instead has focused on "historical memory" in medieval Europe and emphasizes the need to recognize the filters through which we receive information about the past.49 He also brings up the possibility of competing claims based on textually and orally transmitted memory.50 The topic of memory and its relevance to the study of antiquity was reviewed by Jocelyn Penny Small and James Tatum in 1995, who were optimistic about the benefits of applying a multidisciplinary approach to Classical Studies.51 Among Classical archaeologists, Susan Alcock has embraced the possibilities of studying ancient Greek culture from the perspective of social memory and presented several case studies in Greek history through which she surveys the function of landscape in memory 46

Fentress and Wickham 1992: 10. Although testimony was originally given orally, ca. 380 B.C. written depositions, such as Isaeus (2.3637), were read in court instead for witnesses to confirm (MacDowell 1978: 242-243; Todd 1995: 96, n.20). 48 Bradley 1993 and 1998; Jones 2003. 49 Geary 1994. 50 Geary 2002. 51 Small and Tatum 1995. 47

18

conservation.

More recently, Michael Jung has drawn on Pierre Nora's theories about

lieux de memoire in his analysis of the evolving commemoration of the battles of Marathon and Plataia throughout antiquity.53 He compares and contrasts the largely Athenian significance of Marathon to the more Panhellenic significance of Plataia. The theories regarding social memory and commemorative landscapes have much to contribute to understanding the significance of funerary ritual within the living community and the role the monument plays as a focus for perpetuating memory. But just as my interest lies in bringing the discussion of kleos down to the level of the lived experiences of real Greeks, my interest in social memory seeks to move away from largescale events, like pivotal battles or the sack of Athens, in order to focus on the value of collective memory and the strategies for its perpetuation in the living communities of Archaic Attica. Chapter Outline As background for the material evidence from Attic cemeteries to be examined in the following chapters, the first chapter surveys the elements of Greek funerary commemoration preserved in the Homeric poems and the relationship between the construction of monuments and memory. In the world of the poems, a highly visible funerary monument is designed to become a landmark and make the kleos of the deceased hero immortal through provoking mention of his name. The poems also express an awareness, however, that an earth mound may fail to perpetuate kleos due to the limits of human memory and the non-specific nature of the monuments. A key example of this 52 53

Alcock 2002. Jung 2006; cf. Nora 1984.

19

occurs in Book 2 of the Iliad, where the poet describes a landmark called "Thorn Hill" among men that is recognized as the grave mound of Myrina by the gods (7/.2.811-814). Because the earth mound cannot be distinguished from a natural hill and human memory is limited, Myrina, who fought at Troy in an earlier generation, has been forgotten by all but the immortals and the poet whom they inspire. In terms of ritual, the tumulus marks the culmination of the funeral, during which the persona of the deceased is defined through the objects that accompany his or her interment, and the conventional postures and words of survivors that declare their relationship with the deceased to the larger community. The formulaic nature of the funerary lament has been brought to life by Margaret Alexiou54 and is particularly evident during the description of the rites for Hektor. Andromache, Hecuba and Helen take turns leading the dirge by addressing Hektor and stating their relationship to him while holding his head (//. 24.719-763). Through both word and gesture they testify to Hektor's identity, their own, and their status within the living community. As well as verifying and communicating the identity of the deceased, therefore, the lament provides an occasion for the identities of women closely related to the deceased to be reinforced in the shared knowledge—the collective memory—of the surviving community. The remaining chapters focus on the burial evidence from Attica and the innovations in technologies of representation that begin at the end of the Early Iron Age, ca. 750 B.C. Early Iron-Age funerary commemoration, like that described in the Homeric poems, relied on a combination of conventional objects and performative display in order 54

Alexiou 2002 [1974]. Other scholars, most notably Holst-Warhaft [1992], have since focused on the lament in order to elaborate the role of women in ancient Greek society.

20

to establish the persona of the deceased in collective memory. In the case of young women in Athens, Langdon has identified patterns of association between young, female decedents and certain grave goods that make up a standard "burial kit."55 As well as hair spirals that are unique to female graves, terracotta models of boots, dolls, chests and baskets are also common items in the graves of young Athenian women and likely have ritual associations. The entire assemblage displayed during the funeral identified the deceased as an unmarried female and reinforced the loss of a potential mother in the shared memory of the community. At the conclusion of the funeral, however, the lament was over, and the commemorative assemblage was buried under an earth mound. The second chapter focuses on early figural representations that began in the Late Geometric period ca. 750 B.C., when above-ground markers appeared with iconography that identified the mounds as indisputably funerary. The formulaic iconography was largely derived from funerary ritual but may reflect other communal rites as well. Like the objects in the kit identified by Langdon, the iconography of the markers both located the deceased within the gendered social hierarchy and provided a model for the living who claimed the vacated social roles. Common tradition recorded in heroic poetry was part of the cultural milieu that made it possible for simplified images to evoke complex associations. By the seventh century, often called the Orientalizing period, an assemblage of figured pottery adorned Grabbauten (mud-brick tomb structures) and incorporated Eastern and heroic motifs for

55

S. Langdon 2008: 130-131.

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the commemoration of men in particular. The same motifs later appear as supplemental decoration on the elaborate marble stelai that represent the pinnacle of development for sculpted Archaic funerary monuments and are discussed in the third chapter. The primary difference between the personae represented on pottery and those in stone is that the stone monuments depict living archetypes rather than the display of the corpse during the funeral. As Jeffrey Hurwit has highlighted through comparing the modes of thought expressed in Archaic literature with trends in the visual arts, it was not so much the desire to represent an individual in a naturalistic fashion, but rather an interest in ordering nature and creating "legible" images that drove the Archaic artist.56 The depiction of a live generic type on a commemorative monument arose, therefore, not because of any desire to produce a likeness of the deceased as he or she existed in life, but rather because a living representation carried with it clear indications of social persona. The combination of a live representation in the main decorative zone with heroic motifs and inscription in subsidiary zones made it possible to perpetuate the memory of personae through analogy to the heroic paradigm on a durable, above-ground monument. The central generic figure of the sculpture or stele identified the primary social role(s) of the deceased; and supplemental motifs and/or inscription further specified the position of the deceased in the social hierarchy through conventional associations. The monument supported perpetuation of collective memory, because the composition continued to be seen and "read" in the living community long after the funeral had concluded.

Hurwit 1985: 28.

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The fourth chapter focuses on the supplemental elements of the Archaic funerary assemblage and addresses the disproportionate number of young men, women and foreigners commemorated with elaborate monuments. These patterns, I argue, in part result from a need to negotiate vacancies in social roles that were vital to the perpetuation of the living community. A related manifestation, which becomes explicit in Classical literary sources, is the high value placed on citizens having children survive to adulthood. The ideal course of life for an Athenian male, for example, is given by Herodotos' description of Tellos, who was moderately wealthy and lived to see his children have children before dying honorably in battle.57 When people lived to old age and were able to transfer social roles and property before or at death, essential positions would have been transferred before they had been vacated. But when a productive or potentially productive member of society died, survivors were compelled to negotiate the transfer as well as their grief in order for the community to reproduce itself. Through representation of the deceased as a living generic type, complemented with motifs derived from communal ritual, and additional objects commemorating the rites performed in his or her honor, Archaic funerary assemblages perpetuated the collective memory of the deceased and burial group that had been displayed during the funeral. The beginning of the fifth century, however, witnessed radical changes to funerary commemoration in Attica. Many of the motifs associated with the heroic paradigm disappeared from the monuments, others were transformed, and the production of funerary sculpture seems to have become less common for a period of time as well.

57

Herodotos, 1.30.

23

The connection between purposeful destruction of funerary monuments and forgetting previously established collective memory is addressed in the epilogue, along with the attendant possibility that elite Athenians were content to have visible ties to the Archaic social hierarchy obscured from view.

24

Chapter 1 Homeric Monuments and Ritual

25

The Homeric poems represent perhaps the ideal result of ancient Greek commemoration, and the fact that they continue to transmit knowledge of the heroes even today is a testament to their power to prolong memory of individual identity. The modern proverb, "a picture is worth a thousand words" did not have the same conventional meaning in the Homeric (or, I would argue, Archaic Greek) world. Archaic Greek artists did not strive for the inclusion of realistic details too numerous to mention in a written account; their compositions were instead focused on defining characteristics. Hurwit, in addressing the reappearance of figural art in Late Geometric Attica, has judged that "a tradition of image making now began because images had meaning again. They had acquired a social function: they served the aristocratic ideal."1 Image-making for the sake of commemoration does not seem to have much meaning in the Iliad and Odyssey. In the world of the poems, oral poetry is the supreme medium of commemoration; there is only one example of pictorial commemoration in the Iliad,2 Helen's tapestry: . . . H 5E ndyav icrrov ucpaivE . . . She was weaving a great web, twofold BiTTAccKa Tropq>upEr|v, TroXeas 5' EVETTaaaEu aESXous purple, and she was weaving in many contests Tpcbcov 9' i-rrrroSaMcov Kai Axaicov XCCAKOXITCOVCOV, of horse-mastering Trojans and bronze-clad ou5 E8EV EIUEK' ETraaXov im' "ApnoS TraAapacov G r e e k s w h i c h t h e y w e r e suf f eri ng on her (Iliad, 3.125-128) account under the hands of Ares.

The contests woven into Helen's tapestry commemorate the war waged over her, but the images are generic. Ann Bergren has seen the suspension of linear time in the nature of

1

Hurwit 1985: 70. There is of course other image-making in the poems, most notably Achilles' shield made by Hephaistos in Book 18. Although the shield is pictorial, there is no indication that its images are meant to provoke recognition of and thus commemorate a specific individual or event. 2

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the tapestry, which only shows frozen action without the progression of movement.3 The tapestry thus becomes a paradigm for epic composition and the timelessness ofkleos. There is a striking difference between the representations of battle on the tapestry and descriptions of duels in the poem: combatants are nameless in the tapestry, but named in the poem, even if their only purpose in the narrative is to die. During Diomedes' aristeia (display of battle prowess) in Book 5 of the Iliad, even opponents who otherwise have no role in the narrative are named: Phegeus (77. 5.11), Xanthos and Thoon (77. 5.152), for example, have no role in the poem except to be victims of Diomedes. Their kleos is to have been killed by one of the "great" heroes in the Iliad. The account of the battle(s) given in Helen's tapestry, in contrast, does not name anyone individually. The actors are distinguished by physical attributes alone into one of two classifications on the battlefield: Greek or Trojan. A spectator viewing Helen's weaving would not be able recognize individual heroes. Only Helen would be able to identify them individually by supplementing the visual representation with an oral account, just as she identifies the heroes for Priam from on top of the wall in the following episode (77. 3.161-242). Tapestries, if they were displayed prominently, are more likely to have been hung up inside than outside and thus would have been viewed by a limited number of people.4 If broad transmission of kleos in terms of time and space is the ideal, then Helen's weaving, which lacks an attendant oral account and highly visible public display, would be largely ineffective as a commemorative medium. 3

Bergren 2008a: 46-47. Closterman [2007] has recently synthesized the evidence from a vase painting on a loutrophoros (NM 450) in Athens with the burial record and argued that the display of textiles may have been a part of Archaic Attic funerary ritual. Here too public display of the fabric likely was limited, probably to the period of pre-burial activities. See Chapter 4: 216. 4

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The inability to produce recognition (and therefore commemoration) of specific heroes or battles is an inherent quality of the tapestry and resonates in the following scene, when Helen is interrupted at her weaving and called to the Trojan wall so that she can identify the Greek heroes for Priam (77 3. 161-242). The lack of logic in this scene, occurring as it does in the tenth year of the war is well-known,5 and Bergren argues that its anachronistic placement in the narrative makes it "a 'generic epithet' of all wars against walled cities."6 But the juxtaposition of the scene on the wall with the previous scene does more than invoke the timelessness of KA-EOS aq>8iTov (undying fame), it also suggests that an oral account is more effective for perpetuating kleos than a pictorial one. Priam recognizes the men and their exploits only after Helen verbally identifies them by name. Her weaving similarly would be more effective as a commemorative object if it were accompanied by an oral account that identified the heroes by name or an individualizing attribute rather than as generically Greek or Trojan. Helen's weaving has much in common with the funerary monuments described in the poems, an essential characteristic of which is their dependency on oral tradition. After exploring the vocabulary used to describe the monuments and their construction, various aspects of funerary commemoration in the Homeric poems will be surveyed: the interaction between objects and kleos, qualities valued in funerary monuments, and an awareness that monuments may be vulnerable to oblivion. The final section of this chapter will explore the relationship between the funerary monuments and the creation of collective memory through funerary ritual. The attitudes toward commemoration and 5 6

Bergren 2008a: 43, n. 2-3. Bergren 2008a: 47.

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descriptions of funerary ritual in the poems, though not entirely historical, nonetheless provide a useful backdrop for the discussion of the burial record in Archaic Athens.

Homeric Zriuaxa: Definition, Construction and Function Ilos' mound, due to its multiple occasions of mention in the Iliad, is particularly useful for exploring the vocabulary used to describe this type of funerary monument in the Homeric poems. It is called a sema (ofjua) in three of four appearances and a tumbos in the last to which a stele has been added. Sourvinou-Inwood has explained the variety of terminology by arguing that a tumbos specifically designates the earth mound that may cover a single or polyandron burial, whereas sema is only used to designate a single burial and "names the grave monument in terms of its function, not, like tfujmbos, in terms of the physical object that constitutes it."7 Other funerary monuments mentioned in the Iliad and Odyssey are variously called semata or tumboi, and there is one mention of an erion (fipiov), when Achilles describes the joint tomb for himself and Patroklos (//. 23.126).8 Additional markers, stelai, are only mentioned in conjunction with tumboi, though a tumbos does not seem to require a stele.9 The material from which the supplemental stelai are constructed is unclear. Stones act as boundary markers elsewhere in the Iliad and are desirable in terms of

7

Sourvinou-Inwood 1996: 135. The remains of the two heroes are placed in an urn (oopos, //. 23.91) then interred in a mound (fipiov, //. 23.126). Each term occurs only here in Homer (Autenrieth and Keep, 1982; Richardson, 1985: 176 & 181). For further discussion of the term erion, see: Sourvinou-Inwood 1996; 126-127; Immerwahr 1967:262264. 9 Tumbos and stele at//. 11.371,//. 16.457,//. 16.675,//. 17.434 and Od. 12.14. 8

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longevity,10 but wood markers are also a possibility. Examples of stone stelai are archaeologically attested as far back as the Mycenaean era by the stelai with relief decoration from the shaft graves at Mycenae.11 Markers crafted of wood, or even planted trees, are another possibility, but wooden artifacts rarely survive in the material record. Examples of wood markers or trees associated with tombs in the poems include: the elm grove around Eetion's mound, the turning post / grave marker constructed of stones leaned against a stump that Nestor describes during the funeral games for Patroklos, and the oar used to mark Elpenor's mound on Circe's island.12 Eric Brulotte has compared the turning post described by Nestor to the wooden 'Pillar of Oinomaos' at Olympia described by Pausanias and suggests that the pillar may have been designed as a turning post with the appearance of a funerary column.13 The failure to mention a stele with a tumbos or sema specifically does not necessarily mean that a stele is absent. In the case of Ilos' mound, a stele is mentioned in only one of the four descriptions of the monument (//. 11.371). Sema thus may refer to a mound with a supplemental marker as well as to a mound alone. The vocabulary describing construction of the variously termed monuments is the same: semata and tumboi are both generally either "heaped up" (x&v) or simply "made" (7toieTv).14 It is unclear whether the audience is meant to understand the mounds as being fabricated entirely of loose soil or supported by some kind of internal structure. Hektor's

10

Boundary stone at//. 21.403-405. Mylonas 1948: 71 and 1951; Gallou 2005: 123. 12 Eetion's tomb at//. 6.419-420; terma I sema sill. 23.327; Elpenor's mound with oar at Od. 11.77. 13 Brulotte 1994: 58, n.35; //. 23.327-331; Pausanias 5.20.7. 14 Compare //. 7.336 and 7.435: the former uses XETV and the latter 7toieTv; both refer to the polyandron tumbos suggested by Nestor. 11

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monument, the construction of which is described in Book 24, is the only one that includes large closely-fitted stones over which the mound is piled (77. 24.797-799). The potential absence of a secondary marker suggests that the mound itself was adequate as a commemorative monument but supplemental markers could be added to it. The idea that a stele was secondary to the mound itself makes sense if the most important aspect of the monument is its visual prominence. Given the emphatically large size of the mounds described in the poems, they would dwarf stelai of the size familiar from either Mycenae or the later examples from Archaic Attica. The mound of Aisyetes serves as a look-out point, which suggests significant height, and Nestor advises the Greeks to build a defensive wall fitted with gates through which horses could be driven over the mass tomb of Greek dead (77. 2.792-793; 77. 7.331-343). The mounds would have to be massive for such additional uses to be feasible. Stelai on Homeric funerary mounds, therefore, seem merely to distinguish burial mounds from natural hills. As markers that seem to lack any painted or inscribed indication of their purpose, however, stelai are just as dependant on an attendant oral account for proper recognition of their significance as the mounds are. No mention of construction method is given for the erion burial of Achilles and Patroklos, although a later description suggests that a mound is a component of the monument (77. 23.126 and 23.245-247).15 As for other vocabulary used to describe the erection of funerary monuments, the verb xapxueiv is applied to setting up a tumbos and stele for Sarpedon (77.16.457 and 675) and to the funeral Hektor imagines will occur after he defeats a Greek hero in single combat. In the latter case quoted below, however, the

15

See Sourvinou-Inwood 1996: 126-127.

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action of heaping up a mound has been separated from the action designated by Tctpxueiv: vfias EUOOEAHOUS aiToScbDco, 6q>pa E Tapxuacooi Kapn KC-HOCOVTEJ Axaioi, afjud TE oi XEUCOOIV ETTI TrXaTEi 'EAAriaTrovTcp.

I shall return the corpse to the well-decked ships so that the long-haired Achaeans may give him funeral

TOV 5E VEKUV ETTI

r i t e s md

(Iliad 7.84-86)

h e a p u p a t o m b for h i m o n m e b r o a d

Hellespont.

The two occasions employing this verb seem to call for different interpretations of its meaning: TapxuEiv applied to Sarpedon seems to include the construction of a monument; whereas when applied to the unnamed hero, monument construction is a separate act. Sarpedon, moreover, as a son of Zeus receives special treatment from the gods and his home community alike that seems unwarranted in the case of an unnamed hero.16 Nagy draws on the etymology of the verb to harmonize the two different occasions in which TCCPXUEIV is used, suggesting that a better translation involves 'being honored like a god'. He goes on to explain its application to burial of the unnamed hero in Book 7 as a reference to Achilles who is 'best of the Achaians', even though he is currently sitting out of the fighting.17 The sense does seem to favor treatment of the deceased over construction of a monument, inasmuch as TccpxuEiv takes the deceased as its object (accusative case) and the monument only as an instrument (dative case) (77. 7.85, 16.476 and 16.674). This verb, therefore, does not seem to describe the manner of erecting a monument so much as the performance of funerary rites, one part of which is the erection of a monument.

16 Watkins [2008: 136-137] has recently connected the use of Tapxueiv together with TupfkjD TE OTTIXTI TE that describes the commemoration of Sarpedon to uniquely Lycian funerary monuments. 17 Nagy 1990:132-133,138, n. 66.

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Objects and Kleos Mounds, like other forms of commemoration in Homer, are connected to the transmission of kleos, the knowledge of identity and personal history that is transmitted orally through living communities of men. As Redfield has pointed out, kleos may belong to objects as well as people, and the dead as well as the living.18 When objects have kleos, there is often some slippage between the fame of the object and that of the person associated with it. The shield of Nestor and Diomedes' breastplate can be used to illustrate this point. When urging on the Trojans in Book 8 of the Iliad, Hektor tells them: aKK EcponapTeTTov xai OTTEVSETOV ocppa A&fkonEv aorriSa NEOTOPETIV, TT\% VUV KAEOJ oupavov I'KEI traoav xpuoEiriv E'UEVCH, Kavovas TE Kai auTiiv, avrrap air' cbuonv AionriBeos hnroSduoio 5m5dAEOV ecopjiKa, T6V 'Hcpa.oTos KaME TEWXCOv. Ei TOUTCO KE Aa(3o,MEv, SEATTOJMTIV KEV A X a,o U 5 auTovuY'vncov ETriBnoEUEV coKEiacov. r ,.,. , „ . „ . „ „ ,

But follow closely and hasten on so that we may take the shield of Nestor, the fame of which goes t 0 heaven, being all golden, both the handles and t h e s h i e l d i t s e l f - a n d t h e e l a b o r a t e breastplate from ^ s h o u l d e r s o f horse-mastering Diomedes, the one H haistos w r o ht w i t h toil If w e shou,d . ,r ^ ,. ° ,, .. . . take these two things, we would expect the Greeks to embark on their swift ships this very night.

Though kleos is specifically mentioned only in the case of Nestor's shield, Diomedes' breastplate has a story and fame as well, having been made by Hephaistos. It is not just the splendor of the objects themselves, however, that makes them so powerful that Trojan capture of them could end the war, it is also the fact that they are tokens of two of the most prominent Greek heroes. Sight of these objects in Trojan hands would signal the death of two instrumental leaders: one famous for his counsel, the other for his battle prowess. In addition to the kleos the objects themselves possess, the objects are tokens representing the kleos of the men customarily bearing them. 18

Redfield 1994: 31-33.

33

Great men often possess great objects, but when such objects change hands, their kleos becomes possessed by a new owner. More explicitly than in the case of the shield and breastplate above, this phenomenon is evident in the case of armor willingly or unwillingly transferred between heroes. Carrying famous armor into battle can even make a warrior powerful beyond expectation. Because Achilles had made his armor synonymous with battlefield victory, when Patroklos wears it, the Greek forces regain their fortitude and turn the tide, even though Patroklos is not the warrior Achilles is. The kleos of the armor gives Patroklos the power to drive back the Trojans as Achilles himself would have done. As would eventually be the case for Achilles according to another poem of the epic cycle, it is only when the god Apollo intervenes that Patroklos and the famous armor are defeated (77. 16.784-805).19 When famous arms are captured on the battlefield, the transfer of kleos has an additive effect. The victor's kleos increases to include the story about the capture of the arms. The famous objects thus become tokens of a great victory and enhance the victorious hero's kleos through the stories associated with them. Hektor's capture of Achilles' armor from Patroklos signals his preeminence on the battlefield and shifts success in battle to the Trojan side. The reputation of a famous object and its possessor are thus closely linked, and the kleos of an object can enhance that of its possessor whether given freely or captured as a token of victory.

The death of Achilles at the hands of Paris aided by Apollo is foretold in the Iliad by his horse Xanthos at //. 19.408 and described in the Aethiopis.

34

The Ideal Funerary Monument The mound of Achilles and Patroklos is the funerary monument par excellence, and its description, in Book 24 of the Odyssey, explicitly ties visual prominence together with commemorative efficacy: &nq>' au-roTai 5' eirEiTa uEyav xai apuuova Tuy(3ov XEuauev Apysicov iep6$ cn-paTos aixunTacov dKTfj ETTI -rrpouxouorj, ETTI TTAQTET 'EAAncmovTcp, cos KEV TTiXecpaviis EK TTOVT6
Around these [bones] then we, the powerful host Argive spearmen, heaped up a large and faultless tomb on the jutting headland on the b r o a d Hellespont so that it would be visible from Q f f to s e a g o . n g m e n > feoth ±Qse whQ Uve n o w md ^ w h o w i u U v e fa m e foture_ 0f

The physical characteristics of the monument emphasize its visual prominence within the landscape: it is large (u£yav) in size, located in a prominent position on a headland (dxtfi eju jtQOi)x°^aTl)' a n d can be seen from far-off (T/nXe4>avf|c;). Visual prominence makes the monument a landmark within its geographic setting for both contemporary and future inhabitants and visitors in the Trojan plain, much like a modern lighthouse perched on a rocky coastline. This ideal monument is designed to be seen by as many people as possible so that the kleos of those interred will be carried by travelers to their subsequent destinations. The visibility of the monument in the landscape is designed to cause passersby to inquire about, remark on, and thereby transmit memory of its occupant(s). Because of its visual prominence, the monument provokes mention of the stories associated with it by the living who view it. The phrase, EOOOUEVOIOI Tru0Eo8ai (for future people to inquire about), seems to sum up the commemorative function of a grave monument, although the only funerary monument to which it is applied verbatim is the sema for Elpenor (Od. 11.75-76).20 In

20

Redfield 1994 32-34.

35

general, however, the phrase reflects concern with how one will be remembered by future generations. Agamemnon and Hektor use the phrase in the Iliad in reference to the stories that will be told of them as a result of their actions during the war. Agamemnon, when testing the men in Book 2 of the Iliad, says that Zeus bids him to return to Argos with ill-repute (8\)OKXea from SVOKXETH; at 77. 2.115), which will be shameful (aioxpov) for future men to inquire about (77. 2.119). When Hektor realizes that he has been tricked by Athena into standing and facing Achilles, he wishes not to die without kleos (uf| uccv do-rrouBi ye KCCI CJKAEIGOS cnroAoiuriv, II. 22.304) but instead after performing some great deed for future men to inquire about {II. 22.305). In the Odyssey, Eurymachos laments that future generations will hear about how he was unable to string Odysseus' bow, while Eupeithes laments that they will hear how the dead suitors remained unavenged (Od. 21.255 and 24.433). Provoking speech in the future is also closely associated with Homeric funerary monuments even without the phrase EOOOUEVOIOI TTU0Ea8ai: Agamemnon imagines a future Trojan boasting over Menelaos' tomb; the monument of an unnamed Greek imagined by Hektor would provoke mention of his own name by a future viewer; and Achilles' monument also is to be visible to future men (77. 4.176, 7.87-90; Od. 24.84). The association between the monument and inquiry may be conventional, however, as Redfield has suggested in the case of Elpenor's monument (Od. 11.76).21 This monument is particularly unlikely to provoke mention by future men, since it is located at the ends of the earth on Circe's island, but the details Elpenor includes in the description also

21

Redfield 1994: 34, n.15.

36

reflect concern with influencing how he would be remembered by future generations after an unheroic death. It seems intentionally ironic on the part of the poet that Elpenor, who did not die gloriously in battle or even fighting monsters, is the only one of Odysseus' men to receive a funerary monument. The inglorious story of Elpenor's death should perhaps be counted as a shameful account connected to one's name in oral tradition of the sort that Agamemnon, Hektor, Eurymachos and Eupeithes sought to avoid. Elpenor's request that his mound be marked with an oar, a token of his honorable service in Odysseus' navy as a rower (Od. 11.77-78), may be interpreted as an attempt to counteract the story of his shameful death. Making the oar part of the monument would influence the inquiries by future passersby, however unlikely their appearance. Upon seeing the oar, they would be more likely to ask on whose ship the dead man served than how he died. In this way, tokens characterizing the deceased in a particular way could be added to the monument to influence which story would be passed on to future generations. In the case of Elpenor this would mean bringing honorable service to the fore and subordinating a shameful death. As it stands, however, Elpenor's mound is lost to the eyes of men on the goddess Circe's island, while the account of his inglorious death is perpetuated in the Homeric poem. The ironic episode makes the poet's own method of commemoration superior to a burial mound since it does not depend on visual prominence to perpetuate memory of the deceased. Irony is again at play in the following quotation from the Iliad in which Hektor imagines his own kleos being perpetuated through the monument of another man. Such a

37

possibility demonstrates not only the power of the monuments to provoke transmission of the story, but also the fact that the dead have no control over the transmission of their kleos: ctvSpos MEV T65E afjua TraXai KaTaTE9vr)coTos, 6v TTOT' dpioTEuovTa KaxeKTave <pai5iuo5 "EKTCOP. cos -rroTE TIJ epEEi- TO 6' EHOV Kkios ou TTOT' OXEITQI. (Iliad, 7.89-91)

This is the marker of a man who died long ago, an excellent man whom shining Hektor once killed, S O someone will say some day, and my fame will not ever perish.

Ruth Scodel suggests that the description evokes a written epitaph that is not actually present and finds the "tour guide formula" problematic since the poem does not specify either the speaker or the future auditor. 2 She thus discounts the possibility that the Homeric marker was meant to provoke inquiry about the person commemorated rather than to be read,23 but this is to ignore the relationship between distinctive objects and oral tradition. As already discussed in the case of armor, the history of the object is preserved orally; when it falls into enemy hands, the kleos associated with the object is modified to accommodate its new function as a token of victory.24 In her discussion of the imagined sema for Menelaus that Agamemnon sees as a source of shame to himself (//. 4.176-182), Scodel acknowledges that burial in hostile territory may result in the perpetuation of shame rather than glory because there is no control over the future speech act.25 As is the case with the mound of a defeated enemy imagined by Hektor, the oral tradition of the local community, the Trojans, likely would perpetuate the shame of Agamemnon's loss rather than Menelaos' glorious death in battle. The purpose of the mound is to provoke inquiry about the deceased, but these 22

Scodel 1992: 59-61. This passage was first described as epitaphic in Classical literary sources (Ps.Plutarch, de vita Horn. 135). 23 Scodel 1992: 60-61. 24 See pp. 29-31. 25 Scodel 1992: 64.

38

episodes illustrate that its commemorative function is susceptible to redefinition to suit the needs of the local community, which may change over time. The kleos of the deceased provoked by a mound is only as stable as the oral tradition associated with the monument. Human memory is limited by lifespan, and future generations may not accurately interpret the original function of a monument or may even redefine its function in order to suit the needs of the local living community better. This is possible because the Homeric monument is unable to speak for itself and depends on the living to interpret its function properly and transmit the kleos of the deceased. The living community in closest proximity to the monument Hektor imagines is the Trojans, who would have a greater interest in perpetuating Hektor's association with the imagined mound than in remembering a deceased Greek. Perpetuating memory of the former would enhance the reputation of their community, while the latter would be of no consequence. It is thus reasonable for Hektor to imagine that the local community would favor passing on stories of his victories in battle, which would continue to be a source of glory for surviving members of his family and Troy itself. For the unnamed Greek, Hektor's description of the monument is what Scodel identifies as an "anti-epitaph" along with a similar phrase that Hektor uses in an earlier episode when he describes Andromache's fate after his death.26 rH5s yuvr] (this is the wife) takes the place of x65e af}u.a (this is the tomb) when Hektor tells Andromache: Ka! TTOTE T15 srnriaiv iScbv KCXTCX S&Kpu x e o u a a v "EKTOPOS fjSE yuvn 65 dpioTEUEOKE naxeaSai Tpcbcov nTTroSdMcov OTE "IXIOV au9EU&x oVTO 26

Someday someone looking at you pouring down tears will say, "This is the wife of Hektor, who was

Scodel 1992: 59-63.

39

(Iliad, 6.459-461)

the best of the horse-mastering Trojans when they were fighting around Troy."

The imagined passerby does not learn of Hektor's fate by asking the widow, nor is she inscribed with an epitaph. The spectator only sees her as one would a tombstone. Andromache herself is not imagined telling Hektor's kleos; it is her visibility alone that provokes (re-)telling the story by some unnamed future viewer. As Scodel points out, the relationship between mourner and monument has been inverted; it is Andromache herself who grieves.27 The funerary tone of this passage intensifies in the description that follows of Andromache returning home and rousing lamentation (7605) among the handmaidens as if performing a funeral for Hektor while he is still alive (II. 6.497-502). Whether epitaphic formulae such as, T68S orjua of x, first appeared in the oral tradition of the Homeric poems and were then emulated in epitaphs or the reverse is unlikely ever to be securely ascertained.28 Archaeological and epigraphic evidence support the view that the alphabetic script likely came to Greece little before its earliest attestation in the middle of the eighth century on the Dipylon jug.29 This earliest appearance of alphabetic writing in Greece occurred in an Attic grave on pottery, and the earliest monumental grave markers attested in Attica were also pottery. If late eighthcentury Greeks had been interested in producing epitaphs, the monumental Late Geometric grave markers suggest that the technology and medium were available. There is no evidence, however, that the Middle and Late Geometric grave markers were inscribed. The earliest inscribed grave markers (of stone) were found on Thera and have 27

Scodel 1992: 64. The appearance of epic formulae in epitaphs has been well-documented by scholars such as Friedlander andHoffleit 1948: 10-13, no. 2 & 3d. 29 Sass 2005: 150; Jeffery and Johnston 1990: 16. 28

40

been dated to the mid-seventh century B.C.30 The earliest inscribed Attic gravestone31 appears shortly thereafter, contemporary with the latest period in which the poems are thought to have been written down. Although it is possible that epitaphs could have been painted or inscribed on wood or some other perishable material, no evidence for such a practice survives. The "apparent echoes of epitaphic language in the epic"32 are thus unlikely to be the result of familiarity with epitaphs unless the passages were composed after the middle of the seventh century. As a result, I prefer to focus on the passages as a reflection of eighth- and seventh-century attitudes toward funerary commemoration. From this perspective, the absence of the dead man's name in the first passage and the comment prompted by the sight of Andromache in the second underscore the role that oral tradition played in perpetuating memory of the deceased for whom a monument had been constructed. In addition to emphasizing the importance of the living for the transmission of kleos, Hektor's words highlight the role that the visibility of a monument plays in transmitting fame. By becoming a landmark for present and future generations, the monument has the power to transmit the name of the deceased beyond immediate kin and community to include those who may visit the region and learn something of its geographical features. As already discussed in the case of Achilles' monument, the mound itself is a mnemonic device that provokes transmission of kleos and requires the living for interpretation. Transmitting the 'proper' signification of a monument takes the

30

Jeffery and Johnston 1990: 52. Jeffery [1962: 129] dated the stele of Keramo to ca. 650 B.C. 32 Scodell992:61.

31

41

form of an unbroken oral chain constructed of witnesses viewing the monument, then hearing and retelling the story. If the chain is ever broken, for example by invaders supplanting the current society, the monument is likely to lose its original significance. The Greeks represent just such an invading population in the Iliad and do in fact redefine monuments to suit the needs of their own community. Such redefinition is most easily seen in the case of the turning post chosen by Achilles for the chariot race in the funeral games for Patroklos. Nestor questions whether the monument was originally a gravestone or had always been a turning post, because he does not know the stories that the local community tells about the landmark (77. 23.327-333). What may originally have been set up as a grave marker continues to be a landmark through its visual prominence, but the oral chain of stories defining its function has been broken. The same thing is true for the opposite reason in the previously mentioned case of the Greek monument imagined by Hektor (//. 7.89-91). The monument would have been erected by the invaders, but Hektor imagines that it will be redefined by the local community once the foreigners leave. This potential for a monument to lose its original significance thus is recognized in the Iliad through examples such as the turning post and the mound imagined by Hektor. An ambiguity of purpose is additionally connected to the polysemic nature of Homeric funerary monuments to which I shall return.33 Visual prominence makes a monument a landmark within the local geography and provokes transmission of memory. Without a local community interested in remembering the identity of a dead man in its oral

33

See 45-51.

42

tradition, however, a monument is unable to fulfill its purpose of perpetuating memory of the deceased. Proximity to a frequently traveled route, another feature of Achilles' mound on the Hellespont, combines with visual prominence and contributes to making the grave marker a landmark. The large tumulus in the Trojan plain would be a striking feature in the landscape whether viewed from land or sea, and such visibility to travelers makes it more likely that the monument would provoke oral transmission of Achilles' name and history beyond the local community. Its prominence on the shoreline would make the monument useful as a navigational aid for sailors, as well as for people visiting the Troad by land. As long as Achilles' name continues to define the landmark, his name would continue to be heard by new visitors to the region. The usefulness of such monuments as landmarks is demonstrated directly in the Iliad when tumuli are used to locate events within the plain. Their prominence in an otherwise relatively flat landscape makes the mounds useful for locating objects or actions within the plain. A location specified as 'east of tumulus x,' for example, is much more specific and vivid than simply 'in the eastern part of the plain.' Not only does mention of a specific monument provide a location for certain events, it can be mentioned in combination with other landmarks to give a sense of the distance traveled. When the audience hears of the Trojans fleeing past Ilos' mound during their retreat from the Greek ships, the listeners get a sense that the army has traveled a certain distance from the ships but still has some way to go before reaching the city (77.11.166). A vivid impression of

43

the hasty retreat is made on the audience in part through recognition that the mound is located within the plain between the Greek ships and Troy. The poems also illustrate the way using the monuments as landmarks adds to their commemorative power. Every mention of the tomb as a feature in the landscape transmits the identity of the deceased for whom the monument has been named, and there are several hills so named within the Trojan plain.34 Ilos' mound is the most frequently mentioned in the Iliad and provides the best demonstration of how a monument, as a landmark, perpetuates a hero's name by virtue of being named after him. As a visually prominent feature within the plain, Ilos' mound functions similarly to the fig tree that marks the weakest point in the walls of Troy or the springs outside the city that mark the circuits completed by the heroes as Achilles chases Hektor.35 The mound of Ilos provides a common point of reference to locate physically certain events of the Iliad within the Trojan plain: the location of the Trojans' battlefield deliberations as they get closer to the Greek ships, the progress of their retreat, Paris' position when he shoots Diomedes with an arrow, and the place where Hermes meets Priam.36 Every time the poet mentions the monument to locate some action within the Trojan plain, Ilos' name is transmitted to the audience. The same would be true of tombs along the roads and walls outside a living community in Archaic Greece; the more visually prominent the monument is, the more likely it is to become a landmark and continue to transmit the name of the deceased through the generations of a living 34

Mound of Aisyetes at//. 2.793; of Myrinaat//. 2.814; and of Ilos at//. 10.415,11.166, 11.372 and 24.349. 35 Fig tree at//. 6.433; springs at//. 22.208. 36 At//. 10.415,11.166,11.372 and 24.349 respectively.

44

community. The tomb defines the location where family meets regularly to perform rituals in honor of the dead, but as a landmark it also can be used to define a meeting place for two unrelated parties outside the city walls. The more prominent the location of a monument on a well-traveled route, therefore, the more well-known it and its occupant(s) would be. The stories (kleos) a monument in a prominent location provokes thus are more likely to be retold frequently and to be spread by a large number of passer sby.

The Monument as a Symbol of the Deceased Just as landmarks indicate physical position within the landscape, so do funerary monuments, as a sign of the deceased, indicate position within the social landscape. The concepts of location and identification are bound together in the word sema, the standard term for grave monuments in the Homeric poems and early funerary inscriptions. Sema is applied to marks on the tokens (KATIPOU ofjua) with which the heroes draw lots (//. 7.189), the mark of Odysseus' discus throw among the Phaiacians {Od. 8.195), and to Odysseus' scar from the boar {Od. 21.217; 23,73), as well as to burial mounds and ultimately the sculpted marble tombstones of Archaic Athens.37 Homeric semata, however, have varying degrees of specificity. Signs can distinguish similar objects from each other, as the ownership marks do in the case of the lots drawn by the heroes, and the mark of Odysseus' throw, but they still require sight and interpretation. In her discussion 37

Sema is also used of the wicked signs (a^uctTcc Auypa) written on a folded tablet that call for Bellerophon's death (//. 6.168). Scholars have argued both for and against semata in this passage as an indication of written language. For discussions of the implication for literacy, see Bellamy 1989, Goebel 1989 and Spier 1990.

45

of Odysseus' bed at Odyssey 23.184-204, Froma Zeitlin observes that any sign invites decipherment, and identifies those able to recognize its significance as distinct.38 In the case of the marked tokens, each hero first views the one drawn from the helmet then acknowledges whether or not it belongs to him (II. 7.183-189). The comment that Odysseus' discus throw would be discerned even by a blind man feeling about (KCU K' ctXaos TOI, £ETVE, SiaKpiveie TO afjua | aucpacpocov, Od. 8.195-196) suggests that tactile perception is less acute than visual but would still be adequate for making the determination. The morphology of a burial mound complicates recognition because it cannot always be distinguished from a natural feature of the landscape. Even when Homeric monuments are clearly man-made, however, they remain dependent on oral tradition preserved in human memory to connect them to a particular individual. The accounts of the monuments in the poems reveal an awareness that the connection between oral tradition and a polysemic marker may be severed and thus fail to preserve memory of the deceased indefinitely. Nagy, drawing on the work of Sinos, identifies the tomb as a "sign of the dead hero" and uses a linguistic argument to connect sema with thought and recognition. In his formulation, epic poetry is an oral monument, the function of which parallels the funerary mound. He argues that poetry itself, therefore, "is a sema that requires the noesis of those who hear it."39 The need for recognition highlights the fact that epic poetry is as dependent on mortal memory for perpetuating its proper significance as the earth mounds are, and an unbroken oral tradition is at the core of 38 39

Zeitlin 1996: 22-23. Nagy 1990: 216 and 222.

46

preserving memory in either form of commemoration. If the chain of transmission is ever broken, new interpretations may arise. Both a funerary mound and the stories preserved in oral tradition may be assigned a new significance in order to suit the needs of the new community in residence, for the dead have no presence to be seen or voice in order to be heard to preserve the connection between the monuments and themselves. Where Nagy sees a parallel between the monument and oral poetry, Andrew Ford sees the markers as a paradigm for the use of writing to fix oral tradition: In the worlds of Homer and Hesiod, stones can be a machine to preserve kleos: a physical rock is the solid counterpart to a speech handed down in time as a way of preserving meaning. And if a new machine is found, if it is possible for writing to fix fame and endure unchanged through time, it will be on the model of these strange objects on the ground.40 Although not entirely impervious to the forces of nature, in general the earth mound undoubtedly does convey a sense of physical permanence, which forms the basis for Ford's comparison. Once kleos has become fixed in writing, it becomes as immutable as an earth mound. In the case of Homeric funerary monuments, however, the connection between the sema and kleos is tenuous. The case of Myrina's mound in the Iliad, as we shall see, demonstrates that the signification of an earth mound is not always permanent. There is no writing on the monuments to indicate their purpose to those ignorant of the account of their construction preserved in oral tradition. While the physical monument is highly resistant to change, therefore, its signification is vulnerable to redefinition. The literary and archaeological evidence for the meaning of sema have been brought together by Sourvinou-Inwood, who has argued for the merge of indexical and

40

Ford 1992: 141-142.

47

symbolic meanings in the case of funerary monuments. The monuments both mark the location of the grave and, as "sign of the dead person," are an aid to preserve memory of the deceased in the living community.42 The possibility that the dead may continue to have a visible presence among the living leads to some important questions with regard to the purpose of the monument: What is the nature of the continued presence of the deceased? Is individual identity retained by the monument, and for how long? SourvinouInwood focuses on the eschatological role of the sign, in particular for individuals who have not completed a full life-cycle, and ultimately argues that the monument compensates for an unfulfilled life through survival in the memory of the living.43 The benefit of the monument from this perspective thus applies to the dead alone, while for the living the monument represents an obligation with no tangible benefit. Eschatological concerns are likely part of the motivation for mortuary practices. The work of anthropologists has shown, however, that funerary monuments and rites can serve some very basic needs of the living as well. Some possible benefits to the living of the "sign of the deceased" are suggested by comparing ancient Greek practices to those surveyed in Goody's landmark study of LoDagaa mortuary practices in twentieth-century Ghana. In particular, Goody has elucidated some of the ways a living social group may use mortuary practices to accommodate the loss of its members through death. In the case of the LoDagaa, the "sign of the deceased" is a carved wooden stick, and the construction and treatment of

41

Sourvinou-Inwood 1996:136-139. Sourvinou-Inwood 1996: 139. 43 Sourvinou-Inwood 1996: 287-290. 42

48

this shrine are intimately involved with the reallocation of the social roles of the deceased to surviving community members. Only individuals with living children are provided with such a shrine at their death, and it is carved by the children who will take over her/his various domestic and community roles. Construction of the monument is thus a ritual performance with communal significance. It both honors the parent and puts the children on display in the community so that their identities may be known. These various scholars all recognize the funerary monument as a symbol of the deceased but do so from different perspectives: Sinos and Nagy focus on the tomb as "a physical manifestation of his [the hero's] kleos 'glory' as conferred by poetry"45; Ford sees the monument as a model for fixing poetry through writing; and Sourvinou-Inwood focuses on the eschatological role of the sign.46 In each case, the role of perpetuating memory within the living community is a key component. Goody's study addresses the role of monument construction in the self-perpetuation of the social group and suggests that funerary monuments also play a significant role in redefining status and the transfer of social rights and obligations to surviving members of the community. The tomb provides a focus for the rituals which are the mechanism for this transfer, and the monument becomes a marker of the transfer as well as of the identity of the deceased in the collective memory of the community. I shall address this process in more detail when surveying the funerary rituals described in the poems. For now I return to the monument itself and the characteristics that make it vulnerable to redefinition in the poems. It is my

44

Goody 1962:221-240. Nagy 1990: 215; Sinos 1980: 47. 46 Ford 1992: 141-142; Sourvinou-Inwood 1996: 287-290. 45

49

contention that the evolution of Archaic Attic funerary monuments was in part motivated by the desire to respond to the limitations of human memory and the potential for the monument to be misidentified or redefined as expressed in the Homeric poems.

Polysemy The monument is a sign of the deceased but frequently an unclear sign. As discussed earlier in the chapter, the Homeric grave monument is dependent on an unbroken chain of oral testimony to achieve the ideal transmission of memory. Any interruption in the chain of transmission makes proper identification of the marker particularly vulnerable because of its generic form.47 The typical funerary monument described in the poems, composed of a mound with or without an additional marker, has few distinguishing features other than size and location to identify it as commemorating a specific individual. The poems provide multiple examples of monuments conspicuous for their size and location becoming landmarks named after the deceased occupant. It is the oral tradition of the living community, however, that maintains the distinction between a funerary mound and a natural hill. Even if additional markers of stone or wood have been added to the mound, they may only be recognized as funerary by the community that set them up. Memory of the deceased relies entirely on the living community actively passing on such information through stories from one generation to the next. Such information may be lost if a family dies out, if the community is destroyed through natural disaster or

47

Derderian2001:52.

50

war, or if it becomes subject to an invading population that redefines the landmarks to suit its own needs. The episode involving Odysseus' oar in the Odyssey (11.121-131; 23.267-277) highlights the intimate connection between social context and the interpretation of semata. Alex Purves has pointed out that the oar, unlike the various burial mounds, suffers relocation, and that relocation results in the redefinition of the sema from oar to winnowing shovel.48 In the case of an earth mound, the original signification may be lost if a new community occupies the landscape; in the case of the oar, the sema suffers redefinition when is transferred into the landscape of a new community. Redefinition (or misidentification) of the sema results in both cases because of a change in social context. Perpetuation of the original signification depends on continuity of the community that initially constructed the sign. The Iliad in particular recognizes the vulnerability of the funerary monument to polysemy by acknowledging the different significations conferred on the monuments in the plain by distinct communities. We are told in Book 2 that a landmark called 'Thorn Hill' by men is recognized as the grave mound of Myrina49 by the immortals (//. 2.811814). In this case, the Trojans no longer distinguish the mound from a natural hill within the plain. Myrina was not native to Troy, and there would not have been members of her own community perpetually in residence to maintain the oral chain identifying the hill as her burial mound. In the case of Myrina's mound, morphology indistinguishable from that of a natural hill has been coupled with the lack of a community invested in memory

48

Purves 2006: 13. Little is known about Myrina. She is identified as an Amazon in Strabo, Geo. 13.3.6 and Lesbonax (Blank 1988:13 A).

49

51

of the deceased and resulted in the local community forgetting the original signification of the monument. The hill continues to be a landmark for the Trojans, but due to its polysemic form, Myrina has been forgotten. The poet's dual identification of Myrina's mound thus contrasts human and divine memory and demonstrates that the short lifespans and memories of mortals may be insufficient for eternally maintaining the signification of a polysemic monument.50 It is not only mounds that resemble natural hills that are vulnerable to polysemy. Even when 'unnatural' markers have been set up, different communities of men may interpret them in different ways. Another case of generic ambiguity is demonstrated by Nestor's description of the turning post chosen for the chariot race during the funeral games for Patroklos. Nestor advises his son Antilochos: eoTTiKE E,v\ov ctuov ooov T ' opyui' UTTEP aiTis n Bpuos n TTEUKnr TO MEV OU KaTairu6ETai 6u|3pcp, ACE 5E TOO EKOTEPBEV EpnpESaxai Suo AEUKW EV Swoxfjoiv 6Sou, AeTos 5' lirmJBpopos ducpljrj TEU ofma PPOTOTO TrdXa. KaTaTEevr,coToS) r, TO y E vyoaa T^TUKTO E-TT, rrpoTEpcov avepcorrcov, Kai vuv TEpnaT E6riKE TfobapKric 6105 AYIAAEUJ. r//?11?7 1lll

Some dry wood of either oak or pine stands an arm-span distance above the ground. It is not rotted by rain, and two white stones have been leaned up o n e i t h e r s i d e o f i t a t t h e meeting of the roads. The ^ ^ [s smQQth Q n b o m s j d e s E j m e r k .g m a r k e r Qf s o m e m a n w h o d J e d , Qr a . . , ... r • ^ r v° turning post built for men of an earlier time. Now swift-footed, godlike Achilles has made it a turning post.

Construction out of stones leaned against a tree stump indicates that the landmark is manmade, but the original purpose of the monument is unclear to the Greek invaders. Nestor suggests two possibilities based on his own cultural experience, but there is no guarantee that these are the only possibilities in a foreign context. The landmark does not seem to include a mound, but it nonetheless has attributes that Nestor recognizes as potentially 50

Ford [1992: 60-61] discusses the distinction between mortal and divine memory in reference to Iliad 2.484-486 in which the poet asks the Muses' help in naming the Greek heroes as he begins the catalog of ships. Vernant [2006: 116-117] attributes knowledge of both the distant past and the future to the poet being possessed by the Muses.

52

belonging to a grave marker. Nestor's speech, therefore, suggests another possible configuration for a Greek grave monument, namely a vertical wooden element with stones leaned up on either side. Archaeology has not provided any close parallels for funerary monuments constructed in this particular way, but Elizabeth McGowan has argued that this configuration has much in common with Archaic Greek funerary columns.51 Drawing on this passage in conjunction with a survey of the columns, she has suggested that Homer may have inspired a tradition of high-status burials on or near racecourses.52 An alternative possibility is that games, originally funerary in nature, were established at the tombs of some prominent individuals. The evidence is limited, and the surviving columns are made of stone rather than wood, but the shapes, inscriptions in hexameter verse, and contexts suggest a parallel. Like the mounds in the Trojan plain, the wood and stones of the turning post for the race are a visually prominent feature within the landscape, but the original signification of the monument is unclear due to its polysemic morphology. Myrina's name has passed beyond human memory, and the history of the turning post is unknown to the Greeks. While the monument is clearly man-made, the invading Greeks lack the oral tradition necessary to identify its local signification. As part of the landscape of their community, the Trojans may have stories that identify the landmark as a grave marker for a specific individual, a turning post, or something else entirely. The original signification would have been maintained as long as the kleos of the monument

51

McGowan 1995. McGowan [1995: 615-616, n. 2] provides a list of Archaic Greek funerary columns and fragments from the 6th to early 5th centuries BC throughout the Greek world. 52

53

itself, or that of the individual it commemorates, continued to be a part of local oral tradition. Even the Trojans may have forgotten its original function, however, as demonstrated by their designation of Myrina's mound as 'Thorn Hill'. For the Greeks, it is not only unclear whom the wooden stump and stones are meant to commemorate but whether the structure is meant to commemorate anyone at all. Without a continuous oral tradition to identify the landmark explicitly, the newcomers assign it a signification based on their own needs. In this case Achilles makes the monument a turning post. Polysemy has a historical manifestation in the case of Achilles' mound, which is arguably the most famous funerary monument in Greek mythology. Agamemnon gives the account of its construction in Book 24 of the Odyssey (Od. 24.80-84). Based on the description of the monument as a prominent feature of the landscape at the margin of the sea and Trojan plain, I have argued earlier in the chapter that it was meant to achieve its commemorative goal through visual prominence in the landscape.53 As was the case for Myrina's mound and the turning post in the Iliad, however, it too lacks any other unique features to identify it conclusively as the mound of Achilles and Patroklos. An archaeologically verified tomb of Achilles has in fact never been discovered, but that has not stopped ancient and modern people alike from labeling various mounds in the Troad as belonging to Achilles to suit their own purposes.54 The oral tradition preserved in epic poetry has in effect become a part of the collective memory of later periods, though it has

53

Purves [2006: 14] has pointed out that funerary mounds are located at the boundary between the sea and land on multiple occasions in the Homeric poems, cf. //. 7.86; Od. 11.75 and 24.82. 54 Burgess [2009: 112-126] has reviewed the often contradictory archaeological and historical evidence for a tomb of Achilles in the Troad and concluded that there is no single tomb of Achilles. There are instead many tumuli taken as his tomb depending on the needs and desires of different people in various time periods.

54

been deprived of the original context via broad transmission through time and across geography. In some cases the poetry even seems to have motivated the creation of later ritual practices, such as the construction and placement of Archaic funerary columns suggested by McGowan. Homeric inspiration for cult activity may not have been limited to ritual practices at tumuli of Achilles. Sarah Morris has recently suggested two additional cases of later cult activity in the Troad that seem to have been inspired by the epic cycle: the Lokrian Maidens and the walls of Troy that Homer said were built by Poseidon and Apollo (II. 7.451-453).55 In both cases, cult activity by later communities seems to have been performed as atonement for crimes committed by mythological ancestors whose actions had been transmitted through epic poetry. In the case of the Lokrian maidens, said to have been sent to Troy as recompense for Ajax's rape of Kassandra in Athena's temple, Morris concludes that the practice represents "repeated civic commitments from selfstyled descendants, centuries after an alleged and mythological event took place."5 These examples show that appropriation and redefinition was actively practiced in the ancient Greek world, at least as far back as the Early Iron Age. The Homeric poems themselves address the possibility of appropriation and redefinition through recognizing that polysemic morphology may lead to redefinition or misidentification of funerary monuments in particular. The plural identification of monuments like Myrina's mound, the turning post, and Odysseus' oar show that semata are dependent on continuity of social context and oral tradition to perpetuate their original signification. When their 55 56

S. Morris 2007. S. Morris 2007: 62

55

morphology is not unique, funerary monuments, like other semata, may not maintain a connection with the person for whom they were constructed, even if the monument itself stands for many generations.

The Greek Wall: Dispersal and Destruction of Kleos The fortification wall that Nestor advocates erecting over a polyandron burial of unnamed Greek dead (77. 7.327-343) provides another example of a polysemic object—it is both defensive structure and tomb marker. Both the construction and later destruction (II. 12.17-33) of the Greek wall have attracted the attention of many scholars for the poetic, archaeological and mythic implications.57 The reference to bringing home the bones of the dead (77. 7.332-338) is central to the debate regarding the date and location in which the passage was written down or even composed.58 Robert Garland has observed that the poems otherwise "indicate that it was the normal practice for the invading army to leave the ashes of the deceased on foreign soil."59 The discussion here, however, will focus on the wall as an object with its own kleos that is distinct but not separable from its role as a funerary monument rather than on the historicity of transporting the dead back to Athens. Within its narrative context, the kleos of the wall is in fact amplified through the large number of men it commemorates. 57

Ford 1992: 147; Redfield 1994: 167-169; S. Morris 2007: 62-67; Scodel 1982; and Bremmer 2008: 105. Shive [1996] summarizes the arguments supporting the view that the Greek wall and the custom of bringing home the bones of the dead at//. 7.332-338 is an interpolation and, citing Aeschylus (Ag. 433455) as an allusion to the passage, argues for an early date. Seaford [1994: 146], in contrast, supports the view of Kirk [1985: 10] that the passage must have been composed substantially later than 700 B.C. and cites the wall passage as evidence of Athenian influence on the written form of the epic. Thucydides (2.34.5) suggests that "bringing home the dead" had always been standard practice in Athens, but it is impossible to verify to what extent it occurred in actual practice (Hornblower, 1991: 294). 59 Garland 1984-1986: 16. 58

56

As a funerary monument, the wall will not provoke the account of a single warrior, but rather the KAECC avSpcov, the stories of multiple men, such as the tales Achilles sings while passing his time apart from the fighting (77. 9.189). The kleos of wall thus is multiplied by the large number of fallen warriors it commemorates. The potential for notoriety is in fact so great that it threatens even the god Poseidon, who fears that the kleos of the Greeks' wall will bring oblivion to the wall previously built by himself and Apollo at Troy: TOU 8' nxoi KAEOS Ecrrcn Soov T' ETriKiSvaTcu T)CO5' TOO 5' ETTiArioovTai TO Eyco xal (PoT^os ATTOAACOV fipcp AOOMESOVTI iroXiaaausv dGAiioavTE. (Iliad, 7.451-453)

To be sure, the fame of it [the wall] will extend as far as dawn diffuses, while the fame of the one Phoibos Apollo and I wrought with toil for the h e r o Laomedon will be forgotten.

The wall around Troy is famous because it had been built by gods, but its kleos is singular and tied to the local community. The kleos of the Greek wall, in contrast, has the potential to travel and multiply through the vast number of 'stories' associated with it, one for each man interred underneath it whose bones will be returned to Greece. While the Greek community is still at Troy, the wall protects both the lives of the living and the identities of the dead among the Greek survivors. Its size hinders enemy attacks on the camp, but also makes it a highly visible monument within the landscape to remind the living Greeks of their companions who have died while the army has been encamped at Troy. The need to remember the dead warriors at Troy is temporary, however, as the poet tells the audience that the bones are to be carried back to the men's families once the war is over. The wall ensures that the dead are properly remembered at Troy, but only until they can be commemorated by surviving family members at home in Greece. At the departure of survivors, the kleos of the wall will "scatter like the dawn

57

light" (77. 7.451) all over Greece as it is carried along with the bones of the dead warriors when they are returned to the warriors' home communities. In this unusual case, therefore, the bones have the potential to spread the kleos of the monument as much as the monument protects the kleos of the dead among the Greek community at Troy. The kleos of Apollo's and Poseidon's wall, in contrast, is local. Known primarily to inhabitants of the Trojan plain, its repute would only spread abroad passively through mention by visitors to the region (or, as is actually the case, in poetry). The kleos of the gods' wall would be even less likely to spread, furthermore, if a competing monument remained present. Poseidon and Apollo will in fact destroy the wall and any trace of it in the landscape (//. 12.15-33), thereby eliminating its potential to obscure the fame of their own wall within the Trojan plain. Not all the bones, moreover, would make it back to Greece. The poet tells the audience that the race of "demigods" was washed away with the monument (//. 12.23).60 While the dead whose bones make it back to Greece can be expected to have a commemorative monument erected for them in their home community, at Troy the memory of any warriors left buried under the wall would vanish with the wall. Similar to the way the kleos of armor is closely associated with the kleos of the hero who possesses it and can become a token of victory on the battlefield, the kleos of the Greek wall is tied to the dead men commemorated by it. The fame of the wall, therefore, has the potential to be carried back and dispersed throughout Greece with the bones. It is this diffusive potential that makes the kleos of the Greek wall a threat to the 60

The term rmiSeoi occurs only here in the Homeric epics, although it also appears in Hesiod (Works and Days 160) and several of the lyric poems, including Simonides' fragmentary poem (fr. 10-11, West) commemorating the Battle of Plataia. Clay [1996:245] argues that the term "suggests a retrospective vision, looking back at the legendary past from the vantage of the present."

58

Trojan wall built by Apollo and Poseidon, the kleos of which only travels beyond the local community through the transmission of epic poetry. As a funerary monument, the Greek wall demonstrates both one of the greatest characteristics a monument can have for perpetuating memory, visual prominence, and the vulnerability of features in the landscape to the forces of nature. The wall barricades the Greek ships on the shore61 and was built literally and figuratively to rival Troy itself across the Trojan plain, the walls of which had been built by gods. As a vertical mass rising up on the opposite side of the plain from Troy, its visual prominence in the landscape parallels the threat the Greeks pose to the Trojans. While it stands, the wall protects the memory and physical remains of deceased Greeks as a commemorative monument and the lives of Greek survivors as a defensive bulwark. The defensive function of the wall would disappear when the Greeks left, but its kleos would have continued if the gods had allowed it to remain standing. Although the names of the dead commemorated by the wall would have returned to Greece with their bones, the visual prominence of the wall would have remained and become a reminder of the Trojan defeat. Opposite the Trojan ruins, a surviving Greek wall would have attested to the Greek victory, even though the Greek dead likely would have received new monuments in their home communities.62

51

Clay [2007: 239-246] reconstructs the wall. To the extent that the poems were perceived as connected to historical reality, the poet may have been obligated to destroy the wall to explain why it was no longer visible in the Troad.

62

59

The Forces of Nature In addition to the polysemic nature that makes a monument susceptible to redefinition, the Homeric poems recognize that the perpetuation of kleos through monuments is vulnerable to destruction by the forces of nature. The Iliad provides examples of this vulnerability in two remarkable episodes. In the first, an uncharacteristic look into the future describes the destruction of the Greek wall in a flood created by the gods.63 The second involves the fantastic personification of the river Scamander that threatens to make Achilles' death invisible by burying him in mud. As previously mentioned, Apollo and Poseidon are threatened by the potential kleos of the Greek wall and eager to see it destroyed (//. 7.446-453). Zeus advises them to destroy the wall once the army has returned to Greece (//. 7.459-463), and the poet later gives a prophetic description of the destruction: TTEp6£To 8E TTpiduo\o TT6XI$ 5EKC(TCP EviauTcp, ApyEToi 8' EV vr|ual cpiXr)v E$ TraxpiS' E'(3r|aav, 8^ TOTE ur)Ti6covTo TToaEiSdcov Kai ATTOXXCOV

TETXOS duaASOvai TroTaucbv HEVOJ EiaayayovTEs. Saaoi air' ISaicov opEcov aXa 8E irpopEouoi, 'Pf}aos 9' 'ETTTocrropos TE Kdpr)a6s TE 'Po8io$ TE Tp^viKoj TE Kai AiariTTOs 5T6$ TE ZKd|aav8pos Kai SiiaoEis, 60t TroXXa fiodypia Kai TpiKpdXgiat KdTTTfEaov EU Kovir)oi Kai riniOdcov yEvos dvSpcov TCOV TrdvTcov opoaE aToiaaT' ETpaiTE OoT^os ATIQXXCOV, Evvfjiaap 5' E$ TETXO^ VEI p o o v UE 8' a p a Ztiis OUVEX^S, 6
When the city of Priam has been destroyed in the tenth year and the Argives gone to their dear fatherland in their ships, at that time Poseidon and Apollo decided to efface the wall by drawing on it the strength of the rivers, all the rivers which flow from the Idaian mountains to the sea, the Rhesos, Heptaporos, Karesos, Rhodios, Grenikos, Aisepos, divine Scamander and Simoeis, where many oxhide shields and helmets fell in the dust along with the race of demigods. Phoebus Apollo turned the mouths of them all together and hurled the flow against the wall for nine days. Zeus then rained continuously to make the wall swiftly submerged. The Earthshaker himself, holding the trident in his hand, led the waters and sent out in the waves all the foundations of logs and stones which the straining Achaeans set up, and he made it smooth along the strong-flowing Hellespont. He once again covered the great shore with sand after effacing the wall and turned the rivers to run in the streams where the fair-flowing water previously

For the parallels to the flood motif in Near Eastern mythology, see Scodel [1982] and Bremmer [2008: 105].

60

flowed.

The destruction of the wall is an aquatic tour de force, but represents a potentially real fate for monuments that men may construct of dirt and mark with wood or stone. Water, in the form of rain or flood, washes dirt away over time, hastens the decay of wood, and will erode even stone. The fact that it takes eight rivers nine days to destroy the wall is a testament to the strength of its construction. Although he does not name them individually, the poet suggests that the race of heroes will be washed away with the fortifications (//. 12.23). This detail reminds the audience that the wall is also a funerary monument, but one that will not stand the test of time due the forces of nature. Like the mound for Achilles and Patroklos, visual prominence makes it a landmark, but only oral tradition can perpetuate the names of the dead heroes. By leaving the dead unnamed, the poet underscores the tenuous connection between kleos and the monument, which does not itself record the names and accomplishments of the dead. The landmark can only prompt telling the stories preserved in the oral tradition of the community that built the monument. Through the agency of the gods, however, the wall will not simply be destroyed but completely erased from the landscape, which will return to the way it was before the coming of the Greeks. Like Myrina's mound and the turning post, the wall is also polysemic, intended to serve both defensive and commemorative functions. Such complete destruction eliminates the single feature that made it effective as a monument, its visual prominence within the Trojan landscape. The earlier proposal to build the wall over the mass grave

61

includes a plan to return the bones to the home communities of the heroes in Greece after the war (77. 7.334-335).64 It is likely that the families of the deceased men would build new monuments for them at home, but evidence of their deaths at Troy would be eliminated from local memory.65 Oral poetry again emerges as the favored medium of commemoration, when every trace of so many Greeks who died at Troy is eliminated with the wall. The only evidence of their deeds to remain will be the stories passed down in oral tradition. In spite of claims that landmark funerary monuments, such as the mound for Agamemnon, will make a hero's fame unquenchable (Od. 4.584), the poems express an awareness that even massive fortifications like the Greek wall may fall victim to the forces of nature. The threat by Scamander to bury Achilles in mud and deprive him of a visible monument closely parallels the fate of the deceased Greeks commemorated by the wall. Angered by the vast number of corpses polluting its waters, the river begins to fight back, calls on its brother river Simoeis to help, and says: cprinl y a p OUTE |3ir|v Xpaianr|aEHEv OUTE TI ETSOS OUTE TC( TEUXECC KaXa, TCC TTOU udXct VEIOBI Xfuvris KEiaEe' UTT' iXuos KEKaAuwiEvcr KCC6 SE piv CCUTOV EIAUOCO yaudOoioiv aXi 5 X E P a8o 5 TrepiXEuaS liupiov, OUBE O. COTE' e m o m o o v r a i A X a.o. aXX^ai; Toaorjv o, aaiv Kaeinrepfc KaAuyco. auTou 01 Kai arnaa TETEUtETai, OUOE TI HIV XPEco to Eoxa, Tu^poX6T1S, 6TE MIW eaTTTCoa.v A X a,o, r (Iliad 2 1 3 1 6 - 3 2 ^

For I say that neither strength, nor any good looks, n o r flne weapons will be of use. Certainly they will l i e somewhere in the depths of the marsh after being covered over by m u d Ywil, cover over the m a n himself with sand from the sea, heaping round ^ ^ ^ count,ess b W e s T h e Achasms how ^ ,. , ,. , A . . . , ^. her U h l s b n e s s o reat w l U b e shm l §f P « ' 8 ^f f s cov e r over him. Here his sema will be built, and he will have no need of a mound when the Achaeans perform his funeral honors.

The river promises to build up a sema, but it is one that will render Achilles' death invisible rather than provide a lasting visual reminder in the landscape. The Greeks might 64

See n. 58 above. In the Odyssey, Athena (disguised as Mentes) advises Telemachos to build a monument (sema) for Odysseus if he hears that his father is dead (Od. 1.289-292).

65

62

still perform a funeral for him, but any sema marking the completion of the rites would be a cenotaph. A visible monument, in this case, would not be an extension of viewing the corpse and witnessing its transformation to ash on the pyre—all physical traces confirming that the death had occurred would have been obscured from the view of the living. The heap of mud threatened by the river will be built up without a funeral to fix the signification of the monument in the collective memory of the community. Similar to the way Poseidon would completely efface the Greek wall from the Trojan landscape, therefore, the river threatens to bury Achilles in mud and make his death invisible to the living community. Such a fate would eliminate every trace of the hero, even his bones. Instead of a visually prominent mound, the inconspicuous river bank would mark his grave. There would be no landmark to act as a reminder that Achilles had fought bravely and died in the Troad. As in the case of the heroes commemorated by the Greek wall, survivors in Achilles' home community might erect a cenotaph to perpetuate his kleos, but there would be no trace of his accomplishments in the Trojan landscape. In this case the forces of nature are not destroying a monument built for the deceased, but rather concealing the death from the community. The result is the same. Achilles would no longer be visible among the living, and the lack of a monument would deprive him of a recognized place among the dead.

66

8cciTTcoaiv in line 323 clearly cannot mean "bury" since "they will not know how to gather up his bones."

63

Invisible Death The destruction of a monument commemorating a dead hero provides a model for the problems that may result for the living when there is no visible evidence for the death of a prominent community member. When there is no body for a funeral, the death itself becomes uncertain and has the potential to make the transfer of social roles to survivors uncertain as well. Without a monument to attest to the hero's death and provide a ritual focus for his descendants, any authority once conferred on family members by their relationship to him may also be lost. Among the LoDagaa in Ghana, Goody has established that one of the primary purposes of laying out the corpse is so that the death may be adequately witnessed: The necessity for recognizing the face of the deceased is one of the objections the LoDagaa have made when in the past the Government and the Christian Churches have suggested that the body should be buried more promptly and the funeral ritual should follow rather than precede the inhumation. The LoDagaa strongly oppose what they regard as indecent haste. One reason given is that such a change would introduce the possibility of burying alive a person who had simply lost consciousness. They also argue that a person may know many people by sight, particularly children and adolescents, whom he does not know by name.67 The final point of their rationale is particularly significant. Even if the name of the deceased is not known to all community members, he or she may be recognized as occupying a specific role in the community and as belonging to a particular family. The recognition of identity is based on sight. Adequate opportunity for the community to view the corpse and ascertain the identity of the deceased thus is an important part of the mortuary rituals among the LoDagaa, and the cross-cultural comparison may provide

67

Goody 1962:98.

64

some insight as to why display of a recognizable corpse during the funeral was valued by ancient Greeks as well. Although viewing the body is frequently still a component of modern Western funerary ritual,68 we have doctors and coroners to witness death and file official paperwork in order to attest its occurrence. For societies lacking such methods of documentation, it is what has been seen or heard and recorded in memory that verifies death. Autopsy has the greatest authority. That a connection exists between seeing and knowing in ancient Greek thought is evident in the common Greek verb for knowing, oT8oc, etymologically "I have seen," means "I know." When death has not been witnessed, proper funerary rites cannot be performed to establish knowledge of the death in collective memory, and the social roles and property of the deceased cannot be transferred to surviving members of the family. The topic of unwitnessed death is a prominent theme in both the Iliad and Odyssey, though it is handled in different ways as appropriate to the different contexts. In the Iliad, the focus is on the fear that a hero's body may be mutilated after death in battle so that he becomes unrecognizable. In the Odyssey, in contrast, emphasis is on the problems created for the surviving community when death cannot be ascertained, as would have been the case if Odysseus had been lost at sea.69 The threat by the river to make Achilles' death invisible by burying him in mud is unique, but the loss of a

68

It also may be a part of ascertaining the identity of a decedent who has died under solitary circumstances or as the result of foul play. Family members may be asked to identify the deceased by sight before the death is certified by a coroner. 69 He has multiple close calls with shipwreck and drowning, such as when he arrives at the island of the Phaeacians at Od. 5.299-453, when he faces shipwreck at the island of the sirens at Od. 12.39-46, and when his ship is destroyed by Zeus so that he faces Sky 11a and Charybdis without it at Od. 418-446.

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recognizable corpse is not. Potential mutilation of a hero's body by animals is repeatedly invoked in battlefield boasts in the Iliad, and corpses consumed by dogs and birds in fact have a prominent position in the opening lines of the poem. Achilles' anger not only produces death for many heroes but also "made them spoils for dogs and all birds" (//. 1.4-5). Vermeule has linked the dogs and birds of Homer to the excarnation practices of early cultures that did not practice interment and concludes that the bones are more important than the flesh.70 The problem with the bones, however, is that they are not recognizable in the way that a fleshed-out body is. I believe that loss of visually recognizable identity is central to the horror of having one's body devoured by animals as opposed to being cremated through the agency of surviving community members. The body is destroyed in both cases, but cremation occurs through the agency of community members. Mutilation of a corpse by animals, in contrast, can make a death invisible in much the same way as the river would have made Achilles' death invisible by burying him in mud. Survivors would be unable to see recognizable remains and therefore would be unable to know that the death had occurred. Construction of a monument is an extension of this knowledge acquired by viewing a recognizable corpse. Witnesses to the fact of death build a monument to commemorate the deceased, thereby allowing others to 'know' of the death by seeing the landmark and hearing the oral tradition associated with it.

Vermeule 1979: 46.

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While cenotaphs sometimes are constructed in the poems, they are uncommon and make death visible only after confirmation by authoritative oral testimony.71 Consumption of the corpse by animals poses a real threat to commemoration of the deceased by making the body unrecognizable to survivors and disrupting the proper sequence of funerary rites that would provide witnesses to the process of transforming the body to bones. The threat to feed an opponent to dogs and/or birds draws on the horror of invisible death and frequently connects the mutilation to preventing the corpse from being viewed at a funeral. Diomedes, for example, boasts to Paris that in the case of a man struck by him: TOU 5E yuvaiKos MEV T' ancpiSpucpoi eiai Trapeiai, His wife's cheeks are both torn, his children iraTBes 5' opcpaviKoi- 6 BE 8' aipaTi yaTav EpeuScov orphaned, and he rots, staining the ground with TTueETai, oicovol BE TTEpi TTAEES f|E yvvaiKEs. h i s b l o o d sur rounded by more birds than women. (Iliad, 11.393-395)

Mutilation by birds has replaced the lamentation of women that would occur in proper funerary rites and ensure that the death was recognized and communicated among surviving community members. When identification of the corpse is uncertain, the deceased cannot be lamented by the women, an essential component of communicating the death of a family member to the larger community. Proper rites that would spread word of the death throughout the community thus have been replaced by flocks of birds that accomplish the opposite. Mutilation prevents recognition of the corpse and the funerary rites that would fix the death in the collective memory of the community. Rather

71

Menelaos builds a cenotaph (tumbos) in Egypt for Agamemnon after learning of his death from Proteus (Od. 4.584). As we have seen, Athena as Mentes gives Telemachos similar advice about erecting a cenotaph for Odysseus if his death can be verified (Od. 1.289-292).

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than being cremated before witnesses, Diomedes' opponent will rot into anonymity on the ground. During a war on foreign soil, the Greek heroes cannot expect their deaths to be witnessed by family members, but similar boasts by Odysseus and Achilles make it clear that comrades in battle can substitute for family members. Fellow warriors act as witnesses to the cremation and conclusion of the funeral that is marked by the construction of a monument. Odysseus tells Sokos: (5 5e(X' ou p£v ooi ye TraTrip Kal TTOTvia pii-rip ooae Ka6aipiioouoi 0av6uTi TTEP, aAX' oicovot cbuncn-ai epuouai, irspi TTTEPCX TTUKVCX 0CCA6VTES. ecu-rap e'n\ EI KE Bavco, KTEptouai y E 5ioi A X aioi. (Iliad, 11.452-455)72

Ah wretch! Your father and mistress mother will not close your eyes in death, but flesh-eating birds will g u a r d y 0 U ; their wings beating thickly. Yet if I die, the

dHke A c h a e a n s w i n bestow funeral honors on

me

Similar to Diomedes' threat in the previous passage, proper funeral honors performed by family members have been replaced by the mauling of birds. The details in both passages create a sharp contrast between proper funeral rites, during which the transformation of the body from a recognizable corpse to bones would be witnessed by close friends or family members, and the unwitnessed excarnation fated to a warrior whose body has been abandoned to the feasting of animals. In this latter passage, the Achaeans are identified as substitutes for family and able to perform the commemorative rites at Odysseus' death, should it occur at Troy. Odysseus' situation in the Odyssey provides the primary example of the problems a community may face when one of its members is lost to the living but whose death cannot be confirmed. While Calypso keeps Odysseus hidden from mankind, his household is in turmoil because no one can take over his social roles until his death has 72

Achilles similarly contrasts the fate of Patroklos' corpse to Hektor's at//. 22.335-336.

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been acknowledged. The importance of constructing a monument to attest to the death is made clear by repeated mention of a tomb for Odysseus in the first two books of the Odyssey. When speaking to Athena, Telemachos says that he is more distressed by the unknown fate of his father than he would be by his certain death: vOv 5' ETEpcos EPOXOVTO 6eoi KCXKCI MTITIOCOVTES, 01 KETVOV MEV dioTov ETToiTioav TTEpi irdvTcov dv6pcbiTcov, EiTEi ou KE Bavovxi TTEP co5' aKaxoi'uriv, el UET& oTa' ETdpoio. 56MH Tpcbcov EV\ 8rmcp, r^quAcov EV XEPOIV ETTEI TTOXEUOV T O W U O E .

But as it is the gods plotting evil have wished otherwise. They have made him unseen beyond a n m e n ; s i n c e i w o u i d n o t b e s o distressed, not e v e n if h e h a d died> if h e h a d b e e n o v e r c o m e a m o

CQ

ions in t h e

iand

of T

or in t h e

TCO KEV 01 TUMpov MEU EiTomaav TTavaYaioi, , , nr- ., c, , , . , ... -, ,,., , » r s, , -v, „ , , , hands of family after he completed the war. Then riOE KE Kai co iraioi |iEva KAEOC npaT OTTIOOCO. 11*1.1 ui * ,• , (CM 19^4 940. Achaeans would have made him a tomb, and he would have earned great kleos for his son afterward as well.

This passage highlights the problems created for Telemachos by Odysseus' unseen and thus unknown fate. If Odysseus had died at Troy or at home (for this is the contrast intended by trrdpoiai and cpiAcov), there would have been witnesses to his death, and they would have constructed a monument to mark the certainty of his death. The monument would provide visible testimony for the completed transformation of his corpse into bones and a visible counterpart to his kleos transmitted through oral poetry. With his death certified by the monument, Odysseus' social roles and property could formally pass to Telemachos along with his father's kleos, the stories and knowledge of his identity.73 As it stands, Odysseus is both out of sight (aioTog) and out of hearing (a-rrucrros, Od. 1.242). There is no sema for men to view or inquire about. His death has not been witnessed by any of his companions at Troy, no monument has been erected for him, and his fate after the war has not been carried back to friends and family 73 Atchity and Barber have argued that a mixture of pre-Indo-European and post-Homeric traditions are visible in the depictions of women in the Homeric poems. Telemachos is specifically identified as heir to the estate and position of his father {Od. 1.387), but Atchity and Barber [1987: 21] contend that the challenge to Odysseus' kingship by the suitors reflects the earlier Aegean uxorilocal system of succession.

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as kleos. Although his deed during the war have been carried back to his family in poetry, the poetic account is insufficient to effect the transfer of his social roles within the community. Odysseus' invisible fate has left the palace in a state of limbo, because his roles as husband, father and king cannot properly be taken over by anyone else until his death has been confirmed and made visible in the community through ritual and a sema. The next reference to Odysseus' tomb occurs when Athena advises Telemachos about how to resolve his uncertain status, advice which Telemachos repeats when he announces his plans at the assembly.74 Athena tells him: ei 6E KE TEOVTICOTOS aKouarjs nrjS' ET' EOVTOJ, vooTtioas 8fi ETTEITCC
If you hear that he has died and no longer lives, after returning home to your dear fatherland, heap u p a Sgma for him and give him elaborate funeral honorS; as m a n y ^ m fitting) md g i v e y o u r m o t h e r t0 a husband.

Telemachos would not be a first-hand witness to the death of his father, but the testimony of an authoritative witness such as Nestor or Menelaos would be sufficient to establish that the death had occurred. Once Telemachos has heard an authoritative account of Odysseus' death, he will be able to document that death in the collective memory of the community by performing funerary rites and constructing a tomb. The preceding passages make it clear that once a tomb has been erected for Odysseus, Telemachos will be able to inherit the roles of his father, including authority over his mother. If Odysseus had died among witnesses, a monument would have made Odysseus' death visible and known instead of invisible and uncertain. In all the descriptions of funerary rites in the Homeric poems, heaping up a mound is the final stage of the funeral and establishes the new status of the deceased as one of the dead. 74

The same lines are repeated by Telemachos in the first person during the assembly at Od. 2.220-223.

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Funerary Ritual and Building the Monument In order to understand the authoritative value of these monuments, the way they are used by the living community to create and transmit memory must be established, and the Homeric poems provide some insight into the role of the monument within the living community. The rituals described in the poems are limited, however, to those leading up to, and directly following, the construction of a monument. We have already seen that the monuments perpetuate memory of the deceased in part through their function as landmarks and are one of the ways that surviving community members create visible documentation of a death. But the monuments also provide a focus for the performance of rituals that locate the deceased within the social hierarchy of his or her community. Funerary rituals do more than simply make the death known, they also create collective memory of familial relationships of the deceased to surviving community members. Different types of memory have been distinguished in cognitive studies, and Paul Connerton has described them as personal, cognitive and habitual.75 He defines personal memory as the remembered experiences of an individual, cognitive memory as acquired knowledge, and habitual memory as retaining the capacity to reproduce a kind of performance. The monuments mark the conclusion of ritual performances in which specific roles are allotted to survivors based on their relationship to the deceased and provide a focus for the different types of memory that have been created: personal memory has been created for those who participated in the funeral; cognitive memory is

"Connerton 1989: 22.

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created for those in the surrounding community who view the monument and hear the kleos it signifies; habitual memory is created for survivors who repeatedly visit the monument for commemorative ritual performances.76 Relationships displayed by traditional ritual performance, furthermore, are authoritative in determining who will take over the social roles that have been vacated by the death. Athena advises Telemachos to erect a cenotaph for Odysseus if he learns that his father is dead because doing so would identify him as Odysseus' heir, and his performance would be supported by Penelope's and Laertes' complementary roles in the rites surrounding the construction of the tomb. The combined ritual performance and monument construction that would be witnessed by the living community also would validate the transfer of Odysseus' social roles to his son (and of Penelope's hand to a suitor). Collective memory in the form of shared communal knowledge of family relationships thus provides the foundation for recognition of identity for an heir and defines the transmission of the property and social roles that had been vacated by the deceased. There are several descriptions of funerary rituals in the Homeric poems, and they vary in the level of detail provided.77 The funerals are for individuals of warrior status, though not necessarily a basileus (king or chieftain), and do not include any rituals performed at the tomb beyond those immediately associated with burial. The social function of the monuments in Homer thus is limited to an indication of completed funerary rites, the role of a landmark, and the perpetuation of kleos as previously 76

Future visits to the tomb are not recorded in the Homeric poems. In Archaic and Classical Greece, and Attica in particular, there is good evidence that the monument was visited regularly by surviving female family members. See Garland 2001: 104-120. 77 J. Foley [2002:121] argues that scenes of lamentation in the poems are both formulaic type-scenes of the oral tradition and a reflection of funerary tradition in ancient Greek culture.

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described. Descriptions of the rites, however, suggest that the ritual performances document the identity of the living as well as the dead. I shall focus on the two funerals described in the greatest detail, those of Patroklos and Hektor in the Iliad, to illustrate how funerary rituals can be used to create collective memory in the surviving community. These two funerals dominate the end of the Iliad and exemplify some of the differences between funerary rites performed abroad by fellow warriors and those performed at home by family members. Just as there is no recognition of the likelihood that the Trojans would speak a different language than the Greeks, there is no recognizable difference in the funerary customs described for the two societies. Hektor's funeral has the same basic elements as the funeral for Patroklos, though the burying group is different in each case, obligating some variation in the assigned roles. Patroklos' burial provides the model for a funeral performed during a war abroad where close family members are absent. The battle over his corpse is famous for its duration and intensity, and involves several of the most prominent heroes remaining in the field.78 Exceptional efforts to take control of the body of the deceased would perhaps be expected for one of the leading Greek heroes but are somewhat surprising for Achilles' henchman and reasonably prompt the question of why he merits such effort. Annie Schnapp-Gourbeillon has interpreted the excesses associated with the death and funeral of Patroklos an indication that Achilles, a liminal figure vacillating between human and divine, is celebrating his own funeral in the honors properly belonging to

The battle over the body of Patroklos continues intermittently from the beginning of Book 17 into the middle of Book 18 (//. 17.156-18.238), with Menelaos and the two Ajaxes as the primary defenders.

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gods that he bestows on Patroklos. The poem attributes the Trojan desire to carry off Patroklos' corpse to the value of his body for ransoming back the armor and corpse of Sarpedon, creating a parallel between the relationships of Hektor to Sarpedon and Achilles to Patroklos on a compositional level {II. 17.160-163). Like Sarpedon, who is arguably the most prominent of the Trojan allies and frequently rallies the allied forces, Patroklos similarly embodies the connection between Achilles and the rest of the Greek heroes. His standard epithet upon death becomes evnris (kind) that contrasts with Achilles' hard attitude and emphasizes the position Patroklos enjoyed among the Greeks as the one who "knows how to be gentle to all" (iraoiv yap ETriaTaTo UEIAIXOS eTvai). ° Patroklos himself describes Achilles' mind as exactly opposite, a7rnvf|c; (harsh), when he asks to go into battle in Achilles' place (7/. 16.35). Patroklos thus possesses a quality, sympathy toward others, that is particularly valuable in social contexts. It is a quality that Achilles lacks for most of the poem and only regains through celebrating his friend's funeral when the conflict between himself and Agamemnon is finally resolved.81 Mourning for Patroklos officially begins when Achilles receives news of his death, covers himself in dirt and ashes, and begins to bewail the death of his friend (II. 18.22ff). He will also refuse to eat until Patroklos' corpse has been burned. Priam likewise covers himself with dirt after he receives news of Hektor's death (77. 22.414). Marking oneself with dirt, lamentation and fasting are often observed among mourners 79

Schnapp-Gourbeillon 1982: 86-87. Spoken by Menelaos when defending Patroklos' body at //. 17.670-671. 'Evnris is only used to describe Patroklos, except when it is applied to Nestor receiving an honorary prize at the funeral games: of Patroklos at //. 17.670,21.96 and 23.252; of Nestor at//. 23.648. Briseis similarly describes Patroklos as always kind (MELAIXOV aiei, //. 19.300) when she leads a lament (one of many) for him. 81 It is true that a cenotaph could be erected, but as becomes evident in the Odyssey, this is a measure of last resort and unlikely to occur when there is a body that is owed funeral honors. 80

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closely related to the deceased in many different cultures, and through these acts the mourners share 'pollution' with the corpse and are differentiated from the rest of the community.82 The filth thus provides visual evidence of the mourner's close relationship to the deceased, as well as expressing their grief. Ritualized postures during the lament also display the mourner's relationship to the deceased. The lamentation ritual for Patroklos officially begins when Achilles places his hands on the chest of his friend and leads the goos (II. 18.316-317).83 Alexiou has identified traditional elements of the funerary dirge that can be traced in the literary evidence from Homer through Attic tragedy and beyond, including a three-part structure of the lament exemplified by the three women leading the goos for Hektor: direct address, narrative, and renewed address.84 Of particular relevance here is the formulaic beginning of the dirge by the leading mourner, (e£)fjpxE yooio, and her or his direct address to the deceased that follows (co TTOTTOI . . . in line 324) are formulaic elements that appear in the ritual laments for both Patroklos and Hektor, begun by Achilles and Andromache respectively.85 In the case of Patroklos, lamentation continues through several intervening actions: Thetis' acquisition of new armor, resolution of the conflict between Achilles and Agamemnon, and Achilles' return to battle that results in the death of Hektor. Lamentation occurs off and on throughout these other events, but the formal dirge occurs

82

Hertz 1907; Goody 1962: 40-41; Metcalf and Huntington 1991: 93. The lament (goos) was traditionally performed by the close female relatives of the deceased. In the case of a war abroad, however, there would have been no female relatives present. Achilles thus leads the lament as Andromache will do in the case of Hektor (//. 24.723). 84 Alexiou 2002: 131-133. 85 The formal dirge for Patroklos begins at //. 18.316, for Hektor at //. 24.723. 83

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when the corpse was returned to Achilles, and the performance publicizes the death to the community. The Achaeans are present to wail in response, as the Trojan women will do at Hektor's funeral. Achilles begins the lament with his hands placed on Patroklos' chest to indicate his close relationship to the deceased. Patroklos' father is named, and Achilles' own relationship to the dead man is defined in the opening lines: cb TTOTTOI fj p' aXiov ETTOS EK[3aAov fiucm KEivcp Bapouvcov iipcoa MEVCUTIOV EV HEydpoiar cpfjv 5E oi EiS 'OTT6EVTC( TTEPIKXUTOV uiov cx-ird^Eiv "IXIOU EKTTEpcravTa, Xa X 6vxa TE ArifBos aTaav. {Iliad, 18.324-327)

Alas wretched one! Surely in vain I made a speech that day I assured the hero Menoitios in his halls, ! s a i d t h a t i w o u i d r e t u m h i s famous son to Opous havi s a c k e d I H o n md o b t a i n e d m allotment of 0n

spoils

Through the performance, the relation of the living to the dead is put on display, and recognition of the deceased is announced to the community. By placing his hands on Patroklos' chest and uttering these words, Achilles visually and orally defines their relationship in the presence of their cohorts; he is the primary comrade in arms to the son of Menoitios. Later we find out that Achilles, knowing that he would die at Troy, had hoped that Patroklos would survive. If Patroklos had survived the war, he was to act as surrogate father to Neoptolemos and educate him about his heritage in the likelihood that Peleus already would have died as well (II. 19.328-337). Achilles thus laments not only the loss of his friend, but also the trusted vehicle for transmitting his fame and fortune to his son. Still substituting for female relations, the Myrmidons are called on by Achilles to wash the corpse. They do so, anoint it with oil, and shroud it with a sheet and mantle (//. 18.343-355). After Achilles kills Hektor, the remaining funeral rites are celebrated with the following sequence of events: //. 23.5

Achilles announces an armed parade around the tomb.

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77. 23.26 77. 23.65 77. 23.110 77. 23.129 77. 23.135 77. 23.159 77. 23.166 77. 23.217 77. 23.236 77. 23.257

Achilles sets out a funeral feast. Patroklos' ghost visits Achilles. The Greeks collect wood for the pyre. The armed Myrmidons accompany the corpse on parade to the pyre. The Myrmidons cover the corpse with locks of hair, and Achilles adds a special lock of his own hair.86 Those closest to Patroklos and the Greek leaders remain to oversee the burning of the corpse, while the remaining Greeks retire to their tents. The corpse is wrapped in fat; and oil, honey, horses, dogs and Trojan youths are sacrificed on the pyre. Achilles tends the fire all night making libations of wine "like a father grieving as he burns his newly married son's bones" (77. 23.222). Achilles bids Agamemnon to have the men extinguish the fire with wine, collect the bones, wrap them in fat in ajar, and build a temporary tumulus. Achilles begins the funeral games in Patroklos' honor.

Throughout the whole course of the rites, Achilles performs the role of leading mourner and accomplishes special acts in this capacity that are witnessed by the surviving community: he provides the feast for the assembled Greeks, holds Patroklos' head while his companions cover the corpse with locks of hair, and finally performs a«night-long vigil at the pyre as a father would for a recently married son. This last detail is particularly significant, as it makes the connection to Achilles' wish that Patroklos had survived to oversee Neoptolemos coming into his inheritance, as if Patroklos were Achilles' son and would pass on the family estate to his grandson.87 Of note as well is the fact that those closest to Patroklos and most authoritative (the other Greek leaders) are singled out to witness the cremation of his body. It is with this select group that Metcalf and Huntington [1991: 63] observe that hair-cutting is a feature of mortuary rites shared by many cultures, and Goody [1962: 61] includes it among the mourning behaviors of the LoDagaa. 87 Patroklos also seems to have taken on the role of guardian for Briseis and promised to wed her to Achilles once they returned to Thessaly (//. 19.297-299). As Achilles' wife Briseis would have had the potential to produce more heirs to Achilles' household.

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responsibility for carrying kleos back to Patroklos' and Achilles' home communities rests. They can provide the most authoritative testimony from viewing the corpse firsthand and standing watch as it is reduced to bones. The funeral rites for Hektor are not as elaborate as those for Patroklos but incorporate the same basic elements. The primary difference is that the majority of the ritual acts are performed within the home community. Achilles orders Hektor's body to be washed, anointed and shrouded by the female slaves before Priam sees his son's body in Achilles' camp (//. 24.582-585), but then the corpse is transported by Hermes and Priam back to the Trojan community (//. 24.689-697). Kassandra is the first to see Priam returning to the city with Hektor's corpse: TOV 5' dp' eq>' nptovcov T8E KEIMEVOV EV XEXEEOOIKCOKUOEV T' dp' ETTEiTct yEycovE TE TTOV tcctTd a o T v "o^EoeE TpwE 5 Kcd TpcpdBES "EKTOP' iovTE5)

At that point she saw him lying in the bed of the mule-wagon, and then she wailed and cried out to the whole city, "Come and look at

El TTOTE KCCt Cc&OVTl M d X m EKVOOTTIOaVT.

HektOT) M e n

X a i P ET',

rejoiced w h e n h e c a m e h o m e alive

ETTE, uiya xcippa TTOAE, T' nv navrf TE 8riMcp. (Iliad, 24.702-706)

a n d W o m e n

since he w a s a source of

Qf T r o

joy

y; j

fy Q U

e y e r

bml^

from

for t h e c i t y

md

the whole people."

Kassandra immediately spreads the word throughout Troy and commands the people to look at the body. Since Hektor is the son of the king and heir apparent, his fate is a public matter of great importance. The connection between seeing and knowing is again illustrated when the entire city is called on to view his corpse so that the people will know that this person occupying a role essential to the well-being of the community has died. In the same way as Achilles had placed his hands on Patroklos' chest and held his head in demonstration of their close relationship, Andromache and Hecuba clasp Hektor's head as soon as they reach the wagon (//. 24.712). Hektor's funeral is performed

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properly in the home community where the women most closely related to the deceased are able to act as the primary mourners, such women as were not available in the case of Patroklos' funeral. Hektor is placed in the house of his father where singers lead a threnody with the women crying out in response (II. 24.719-722). It is the three closest female relations, however, who lead the goos. They begin with the same formulaic expression as Achilles had used in the dirge for Patroklos and likewise start off by announcing their relationship to the deceased: 01 yEv dip' EBpTiVEov, ETT! 8E OTEV6XOVTO yuvaTKEj. Tfjoiv 5' AvSpoMaxn XEUKCOXEVOS fipxe yooio "EKTopos dvSpocpovoto Kdpri HETCC xepoiv E'XOUOCC 6vsp cm' aicovos VEO5 GOXEO, KCX5 5E HE XAPW AE.TTE15 EV HEydpotor Trcrt5 5' ETI vfimo 5 QUTCO* (//. 24.722-726) "COS EcpaTo KXCU'OUO', ETT! SE OTEVOXOVTO yuvouKEs. Tfjoiv S' avQ' 'EKOPTI dSivou E^fjpxE yooio"EKTOP EMV euiacp TrdvTcov TTOXU (piATaTE -rraiBcov, (//. 24.746-748) "U)s Etpa-ro KXaiouoa, yoov 8' dXiaoxov opiVE. Tfjoi 5' EiTEie' 'EA^VTI xpiTaTr) E^fjpxe yooio"EKTOP E^cp Gu^cp 8ai=pcov TTOXO 9IXT Q TE TrdvTcov, f\ MEV MOI TTOOIS ioTiv AX^av5po5 GEOEISIIS,

The [singers] were singing the funeral song, and the women were lamenting in accompaniment. White-armed Andromache set about leading the lament for them while holding the head of man-slaying Hektor with her hands: "Husband, you were lost from life young and leave me a w i ( j o w m m e palace while our son is still a baby..." Thus she [Andromache] spoke weeping, and the women lamenting in accompaniment. Then Hecuba led the ceaseless lament for them: "Hektor, dearest by far to my heart of all my children . . . "

were

Thus she [Hecuba] spoke weeping and roused the persistent lament. Third then Helen led the lament for t h e m : " H e ktor, dearest by far to my heart of all my husband's brothers, my husband is godlike Alexander,

(//. 24.760-763)

Andromache is the primary mourner as Hektor's wife and mother of his heir. She leads the first dirge (inpxe yooio) by addressing Hektor and stating their relationship while holding his head. Through both word and posture, therefore, she testifies to the identity of her dead husband, her own identity, the identity of their child and their status within the living community. Sheila Murnaghan has stressed Andromache's fear, expressed in an earlier passage (77. 22.490), that their son will lose the social standing he had while

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Hektor was alive. The formal lament during the funeral, however, is an opportunity for the women to claim publicly the status and rights afforded to them through their relationship to the deceased. Hecuba leads the second dirge (e§fjp%e yooio), also formally recognizing Hektor and announcing his name before the community of witnesses. She too puts her relationship to Hektor on display, and Helen, Hektor's sister-in-law, leads the final dirge (e^fjpxs yooio). Through the formulaic words and actions of the three women heard and seen by the members of the community, Hektor's death and the identities of his closest female relations become known and fixed in collective memory. Helen may seem an odd choice for inclusion in this select group of women, since she is not a blood-relative. Her relationship to Hektor, however, is of great importance to the community. She is wife to his surviving full brother who should be regent until Astyanax comes of age, if not next in line for the throne himself.89 Her performance thus attests to the transfer of Hektor's role as royal heir to Paris. Like Andromache and Hecuba, she opens her lament by addressing Hektor and stating her relationship to him. Furthermore, she begins with exactly the same phrasing as Hecuba, substituting "SctEpcov TTOAU

(piATcrre TTCCVTGOV" for "TTOIVTCOV TTOXU
performances by the women at the funeral, therefore, Hektor's identity and death have been declared to the community. His primary social roles—husband, father, son and royal heir (with a surviving brother)—furthermore, have been established in collective memory along with the successors to those roles vacated by his death. His son presumably would

88

Murnaghan 1999:215. The rules of succession are not clear in this case. What is clear, however, is that Andromache, Hecuba and Helen had the highest status among the women of Troy while Hektor was alive. 89

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have taken over the role of perpetuating the family and possibly rule Troy (had he survived), while Paris seems to rank first among Priam's surviving sons and may have been the natural choice as guardian for Hektor's son. The ritual lament by the women, therefore, is both a formalized expression of grief and a means of negotiating the loss of a key member of the community. The funeral progresses with Priam's orders for the people to go out and gather wood for the pyre and the reiteration of Achilles' promise to him (77. 24.778-781). On the tenth day they carry the corpse to the pyre and set it ablaze. The same line that was applied to quenching Patroklos' pyre and collecting his bones appears again in the description of gathering Hektor's bones (77. 23.250 and 77. 24.791). Another parallel between the two dead heroes is created when Hektor's bones are placed in a golden box (XpuaEiriv AdpvctKcc, 77. 24.795), just as Patroklos' bones were placed in a golden vessel (Xpuaerj qnaArj, 77. 23.243). Hektor's royal status, however, is distinguished by wrapping the larnax in purple robes (77. 24.796), an honor not bestowed on Patroklos' remains. Heaping up a sema for Hektor is mentioned twice in close succession (77. 24.799 and 801), then the poem closes with the Trojan community gathered for a feast at the house of the king (77. 24.802-803). The funeral rites for Hektor bring together the entire community to mediate the loss of one of its leading members. By viewing the corpse and ritual performances, and participating in the construction of the monument, the community members know the identity of the individual who has died, the identities of his closest female relations, and the identities of his successors. Those inheriting his social roles have been singled out in the formal goos and by their postures during the

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funerary rites performed before the members of the community. The loss of a prominent community member thus would have been mediated, and the transfer of his social roles established in collective memory.

Conclusion While a commemorative monument may be a part of what is owed to the dead (TO yap

yepas EOTI 8CCV6VTCOV, II. 16.675, etc.),90 it also has a vital function in the living

community. By reading the Homeric poems informed by Goody's anthropological study on the LoDagaa funerary rites, the funerary ritual and the monument that marks their conclusion take on new significance. The sign of the deceased not only marks his new status as one of the dead and provides a physical corollary to oral tradition, it also marks the transfer of social roles to surviving members of the community. The poems reveal an awareness, however, about the vulnerability of monuments to oblivion through polysemy and the forces of nature. The mound itself is durable, but its signification is vulnerable to redefinition due to the limits of human memory and the lack of specificity in the morphology of the monument. The transformation of the funerary monument over the course of the Archaic period in Attica, as we shall see in the remaining chapters, will incorporate innovations in technologies of representation in order to give image-making meaning. The result will be to make the monument as much a reflection of collective memory of identity as the kleos preserved in oral tradition. 90

Garland [1984-1986: 5-20] has examined the use of this expression in the poems and concluded that the majority of the Homeric dead do not warrant a monument. Redfield [1994: 168] reached a similar conclusion that the funeral was not the privilege of all who died on the battlefield but was controlled by the victor.

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Chapter 2 Pots and Pyres: Visualizing Death in Attic Funerary Commemoration

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From the undifferentiated earth mound to elaborately sculpted marble adorned with ribbons, garlands and decorated vases, funerary monuments change radically between the eighth and sixth centuries B.C. in Attica. After many generations of marking graves with earth mounds similar to those described in the Homeric poems (ca. 1100-800 B.C.), the residents of Attica begin incorporating new strategies of representation to commemorate their dead. Analysis of the Homeric poems has revealed an awareness that the occupant of a burial mound may be forgotten or even that death may be obscured from the view of community members. The incorporation of figural representation in Attic funerary monuments responds to the potential for obscurity by providing lasting visual attestation to the communal memory of the deceased created at his or her funeral. During the rites the display of objects with conventional associations provides a visual counterpart to the representation of social roles and relation to survivors communicated through ritualized gestures and the lament. This chapter begins tracing the modification of commemorative objects from real or model goods with conventional associations to specialized objects that primarily functioned as vehicles for figural decoration. Objects carrying figural decoration gain their commemorative value in part through associations with the heroic paradigm provided by oral tradition and represent the deceased by locating his or her persona within the social hierarchy modeled by that paradigm. Technologies of representation are central to the use of figural decoration, and some scholars previously assumed that the Greeks had regressed and lost the ability to produce figural decoration in the wake of the Mycenaean collapse. The period from ca.

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1100-750 B.C. was labeled the "Dark Age" of Greece as a result.1 The metal goods from rich burials in tenth- and ninth-century Athens in conjunction with excavation of settlements from this period like Lefkandi in Euboia, however, suggest that the period was only dark to the eyes of modern scholars. The view that the Greeks were unable to produce figural decoration is no longer tenable; when images appear in eighth-century Athens, the "tradition of image making now began because images had meaning again."2 Image-making, as we have seen in the Homeric descriptions of funerary rites, is not the only option for commemorative representation. Objects with or without decoration can be used to communicate social roles and status by virtue of their cultural associations; burial practices often incorporate a variety of objects, the significance of which derives from their cultural context. A long-bladed knife, for example, has different associations in a culture that labels it a "machete" and typically uses it to harvest sugar cane than in a culture that uses "swords" primarily to kill men. Anthropological studies have identified a diverse array of objects that may be used in funerary ritual to represent the social roles and status of the deceased and his or her burying group. The relationship of commemorative objects and rites to the living society making use of them has been taken up by many scholars from a variety of perspectives, and several influential studies have connected mortuary commemoration with both social organization and expressions of status. Through cross-cultural analysis, Lewis Binford argued for correlations between the complexity of social structure and mortuary rites, as well as for correlations between the expression of social persona in funerary rites and the ' Coldstream [2003: 109], for example, characterized the period as one of "obscurity and stagnation." Hurwitl985:70.

2

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status of the deceased.3 Arthur Saxe similarly connected increased diversity in the representation of social personae in funerary commemoration to social complexity and the status of the deceased.4 He also argued for a connection between formal cemeteries and legitimizing control over resources. This latter hypothesis was developed further by Lynne Goldstein, who concluded "that the maintenance of a permanent, specialized and bounded disposal area was one means by which a corporate group, seeking to legitimize its rights over scarce resources, might ritualize this relationship."5 These studies have suggested that mortuary practices may shape the existence of the living in addition to any benefit that they may be thought to provide for the dead. The elite land-owning class in Early Iron Age and Archaic Attica would have had the means to erect archaeologically visible monuments, but only a portion of the community seems to have been commemorated with visible monuments at any given time.6 The commemoration of deceased family members with a visible monument in the community may have been in part a strategy to assert continuing control over resources, but lack of visible commemorative investment in the material record does not mean that poorer community members would have observed funerals with different essential elements and concerns. A number of studies suggest that variations in ritual can be a matter of scale and tied to practical concerns, such as the available wealth of the burying group or the agricultural season in which death occurs. Peter Metcalf cites the example of 3

Binfordl971. Saxe 1970. Pearson [2000: 29-30] provides a useful summary of Saxe's hypotheses. 5 Pearson [2000: 30] quoting Goldstein [1976: 61], non vidi. 6 1 . Morris [1987:104-109] has argued that a significant portion of the Athenian population in various periods disposed of their dead in a manner invisible to archaeology. This is difficult to determine, however, since the reuse and redefinition of cemetery areas in Athens often have left little for archaeologists to find and certainly not a complete burial record for the community. 4

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a cucumber serving as a poor man's ox in the thrifty version of a Nuer ritual in the southern Sudan.7 Participants performed the same ritualized acts and insisted that the cucumber and ox were "the same thing," meaning that they were equivalent in terms of the ritual.8 Metcalf has attributed such variations to a phenomenon he calls "ritual economy," which he has defined as, "the ability of a rite to telescope in scale, to expand or contract in the grandness with which it is celebrated, without any essential change in format or rationale."9 Ritual economy, and likely human nature as well, prohibit absolute "rules" dictating uniform commemorative practices. Patterns, particularly in the ritualized use of objects, nonetheless are often visible in the material record and may suggest the conventional associations of goods chosen by the burying group to represent the social persona of the deceased. Classical archaeologists like Ian Morris and James Whitley have incorporated anthropological theories linking burial practices and social structure into their analyses of the material remains from Greek, primarily Athenian, cemeteries in their attempts to reconstruct the formative stages of the polis.10 Morris has advocated a highly stratified social structure ca. 1050-750 B.C. composed of an elite land-owning class and a dependent land-working class and argues for periods of exclusive burial in the Kerameikos cemetery based on the archaeological record.11 Whitley has instead focused on identifying correlations between vase shapes, motifs, gender and status in the different phases of Geometric stylistic development and attributes the eighth-century political 7

Metcalf 1981: 563; cf. Evans-Pritchard 1956: 202-203. Metcalf 1981: 563-564. 9 Metcalf 1981:563. 10 1. Morris 1987; Whitley 1991. 11 I.Morris 1987: 173-177. 8

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structure at Athens to ninth-century "social rationing." Social structure and commemorative display are interrelated phenomena and cannot entirely be separated. This study, however, is primarily concerned with the innovations in representational technologies that were applied to funerary monuments in order to perpetuate memory of social personae in the living community. This approach takes as its background the vulnerabilities of an earth mound as a vehicle for perpetuating memory that were discussed in the previous chapter and posits that new modes of representation were incorporated, at least in part, in response to desire of the burying group to influence collective memory of the deceased. By the middle of the sixth century, elite funerary monuments had taken a form that provided more than a landmark, they provided visual documentation of communal memory formerly preserved in oral tradition alone. A central theme of the Homeric poems is kleos, and we have seen that earth mounds in the poems are constructed to become landmarks and provide a conspicuous visual reminder of the hero beyond his death. In spite of claims that a grand funerary mound would make a hero's fame immortal {Od. 24.80-94), the poems recognize the possibility that a nonspecific monument may fail to perpetuate memory due to its polysemic form and the limitations of human memory. Outside the heroic world of epic, collective memory of past and present community members is tied to funerary commemoration, and the monuments of Archaic Attica provided both a visual reminder of the dead and a model for the living who would take over his or her social roles and property. Beginning at the end of the Early Iron Age with the grave goods and mounds

12

Whitley 1991: 11; 181-183.

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that bear the greatest resemblance to the monuments described in the Homeric poems, this chapter traces the diachronic innovations in commemoration through the objects used to represent the persona of the deceased. Pottery is central to this discussion, and the clay used to create the vessels and models buried with the deceased in Early Iron Age graves became the first medium for iconographic representations placed above-ground. In contrast to the ubiquitous earth of the mounds, monumental funerary vases were able to commemorate and/or claim elaborate funerary rites for the deceased as a reflection of his or her social roles and status and remained visible beyond the conclusion of the funeral. Beginning in the Protogeometric period in Attica, ca. 1050 B.C., adults were cremated, after which the remains were collected in an urn and buried under an earth mound.13 Who attended the rites, the actions they performed, and the words they spoke, however, are largely invisible in the material record. Just as the purple robes and gold larnax in which Hektor's cremated remains were placed were afterward deposited in his grave (77. 24.795-796), objects with conventional associations were sometimes placed in elite graves of Early Iron Age Attica. There is also evidence from some burials that vases were burnt on the pyre and that sacrifices may have been made during the funerals.1 Grave markers begin to appear ca. 900 B.C., but the linear decoration on the pots and

13

Knigge 1991: 16-21; I. Morris 1987: 18-19. Beilage D in Krause [1976] shows that burnt pottery, suggesting vases placed on the pyre, was common from the Early Protogeometric to Middle Geometric period burials in the Kerameikos (Zeitstuffen 3-7, ca. 1050-750 B.C.). Animal bones have been found in a number of early burials, but the clearest evidence for a funerary feast in this period has been provided by the burial of the "Rich Athenian Lady" from the Areopagos. The remains of lambs, goats and cattle suggest that a large quantity of meat (over 70 kg) would have been produced during the funeral (Liston and Papadopoulos, 2004: 15). The Early Geometric "Boots Grave" (no. D 16:2) near the Classical Agora contained the carbonized remains of figs (Young 1949: 282), and the "Warrior Grave" in the Classical Agora contained carbonized remains of figs and grapes (Blegen 1952: 280), which also may have been part of a funerary feast or food offerings. 14

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rough stone slabs do little more than specify the location of the grave.15 Like the "turning post" for the chariot race at Patroklos' funeral in the Iliad (11.23.327-331), non-figural marker vases are clearly man-made but were dependent on oral tradition to identify their commemorative function. The first significant step toward counteracting the potential for ambiguity occurs among a number of graves in the so-called "Dipylon cemetery" in the second half of the eighth century B.C. Some of the Monumental vases placed on the mounds, such as the Dipylon amphora (Figure 0.1) mentioned in the introduction, were over a meter tall and had been decorated with scenes of funerary ritual. These vases not only marked the location of the grave, their figural decoration specified the mound as funerary as opposed to a natural feature of the landscape. That funerary monuments had an important function within the living community is suggested both by their location just outside the area of habitation and by the effort and expense involved in constructing elite monuments. The burying group likely chose the objects that were displayed during the funeral and buried at the conclusion of the rites. While many of the goods cannot be connected to a particular social category, there are certain objects with well-established gender associations, and luxury items are likely indicative of elite status.16 The patterns of association thus suggest that the objects displayed and deposited with the deceased is connected to the social roles vacated by his or her passing that would be taken over by members of the burying group. This role of commemorative rites in transferring social roles and property to survivors has been 15

1. Morris 1987: 151. Stromberg [1993], discussed below, validates the gender associations of some grave goods, like weapons, in Athens during the Early Iron Age, while discounting the traditional associations of others, like drinking vessels. 16

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elucidated in Goody's study of the LoDagaa, which provides a clear example of how funerary rites can both express grief in a ritualized manner and mediate the transfer precipitated by the loss of a community member. As mentioned in the previous chapter, it was only a decedent with living children who received a funerary monument among the LoDagaa. Creation of the "ancestor stick" would in fact be postponed if none of the children were deemed old enough to take over the domestic roles of the deceased parent.17 Other objects of cultural significance were also displayed over the course of LoDagaa funerary rites in order to indicate the persona of the deceased. His bow, quiver and some farm produce, for example, would be placed around the body of a man as visual representations of activities that the burying group claimed for him in life, while his success in war and farming were celebrated in funerary songs.18 In the case of a deceased woman, her cooking pots would be broken at her feet, and "[l]ike the farm produce dropped around a man, this act pays tribute to her domestic achievements."19 Weapons, grain and cookery thus have culturally recognized significance that may be incorporated into funerary rites both to commemorate the deceased and to represent the social roles that must be taken over by the living as the community reproduces itself. The innovations in representation incorporated into—perhaps even developed for—Attic funerary monuments similarly make it possible for indicators of social persona to be displayed beyond the conclusion of the funeral in order to perpetuate collective memory of the

17

Goody 1962:221-222. Goody 1962: 78. 19 Goody 1962:82. 18

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deceased and his or her role(s) transferred to members of the burying group in the community. Due caution is warranted, however, not to accept these representations as accurate reflections of biography without question. Whitley justly emphasizes that "warrior" graves, for example, may represent the deceased as he could or should have been in the eyes of his burying group rather than actual participation or death in battle.20 The distinction between being a warrior in fact or in status alone, however, may be relatively unimportant from the perspective of commemoration and claims on social roles that were vital to the preservation of the community. While participation in battles of particular significance, like the battle at Marathon during the Persian Wars, would give added weight to the claim of warrior status in the historical period,21 at other times warrior status may have had little to do with specific battles or even serving in battle at all. Grave goods conventionally associated with warriors may instead have been an indication of status and participation in certain social rites. To make a modern analogy, many countries keep a standing military force even in times of peace. The men and women in these forces go through a training process that makes them "soldiers" regardless of whether or not they are ever required to take part in battle. When warrior status was claimed by a burying group in Early Iron Age Athens, the implication was that a "warrior" had been lost to the community and would be replaced by a surviving member of the burying group.

20

Whitley 1996:216. Perhaps the most famous example is the anecdotal tradition that Aeschylus' tombstone commemorates his participation in the Battle of Marathon but not any of his victories in the theater (Page 1981:129-131). 21

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Commemorative objects are a medium through which culturally understood formulae of identity could be represented, and, as we have seen in the Homeric poems, objects themselves could possess kleos as well as conventional significance.22 Citing the ekphrasis of Achilles' shield in the Iliad (II. 18.478-608) as indicative of the way Early Iron Age Greeks would have read iconography and associated significant events with objects, Langdon argues that "[rjecalling the social connections embedded in important possessions must have been second nature to a late-eighth-century viewer; figural decoration added another dimension to its expression."23 When objects used to mark social connections and cultural associations were displayed during a funeral, they became a means of communicating the social roles and relationships of the deceased to spectators. In the Early Iron Age, however, objects displayed during the funeral would not have been visible beyond the conclusion of the rites. The goods preserved in the archaeological record were ultimately, although perhaps selectively, deposited in the grave and left memory of the deceased dependant on oral tradition for its preservation. In the Archaic period deposition of grave goods declined as objects were developed to represent social personae above-ground and act as visual reminders of the deceased in the living community.

Iron Age Precursors Earth mounds typically covered the graves in Attic cemeteries during the Early Iron Age and throughout the Archaic period, but the size of the mounds varied by period. 22 23

Chapter 1:33-34. S. Langdon 2008:14.

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A variety of plastered mud-brick structures were added to some of the mounds in the second half of the period as well. Before significant differentiation occurred aboveground, however, it occurred through the objects placed in the grave. So-called "trenchand-hole" burials, a type of secondary burial similar to the inurned cremations described in the Homeric poems, involved placing the cremated remains in a vessel that was sunk into the floor of a trench with the grave goods (Figure 2.1). The pyre debris was then swept into the trench before the grave was covered with a mound. This type of burial remained standard in Athenian cemeteries during the Protogeometric period (ca. 1050900 B.C.) and shows that complex funerary practices involving considerable effort and expense were already a feature of Athenian society in the Early Iron Age.24 As Whitley has pointed out, the trench-and-hole grave type indicates that at least three or four ritual acts must have followed cremation: gathering the cremated remains in an urn, depositing grave goods, building up a mound, and potentially setting a marker over the grave.25 The activities leading up to cremation and any post-funeral visits made to the grave by family members, as we hear occurred in the historical period have not left any discernable physical traces.26 We do not know if funeral games were ever held in Early Iron-Age Athens,27 but the topography of the area in which the formal cemeteries were located near the Eridanos River, Areopagos, and Kolonos Agoraios make it unlikely that 24

Kurtz and Boardman 1971: 37; I. Morris 1987: 18; Knigge 1991: 16-18. Whitley, 1991:102; Knigge, 1991:16-20. 26 Herodotos compares annual sacrifice performed by sons for their deceased fathers among the Issedones in Scythia to Greek practice and says that "a son does this [makes a sacrifice] just as the Greeks do at the Genesia" (TTaTs 6E TrctTpi TOUTO TTOI^EI, Korrd Trep "EXXrivEj r a yeveaia, 4.26); Garland, 2001: 104-120. 27 Games do seem to have been held nearby, however, in the area of the Classical Agora. There is evidence that grandstands for spectators were set up along the Panathenaic Way, and that a variety of competitions, including the apobates contest (race done in armor involving jumping on and off a moving chariot), were held in the area of the Classical Agora during the sixth century B.C. (Camp 1986: 45-46). 25

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chariots were ever driven around the pyre as described at the funeral of Patroklos in the Iliad. Contemporary literary sources also are lacking to tell us who among the survivors prepared the corpse prior to cremation, how long the prothesis lasted, and how the corpse was transported to the pyre. Much of the material and iconographical evidence, however, suggests that the basic elements—prothesis, lament, ekphora, cremation and mound— were similar to those described in the Homeric poems during the Early Iron Age. The vases used to contain the cremated remains of the heroes in the poems are described in a number of terms. Aucpicpopeus, indicating a two-handled vessel, is used to describe the gold cinerary urn for the remains of Achilles and Patroklos in both the Iliad and Odyssey (II. 23.92; Od. 24.74). Two handles are a characteristic shared with the most common cinerary vessel, the amphora, in Attic cemeteries from the Protogeometric through Late Geometric periods, ca. 1050-700 B.C. The cpidA,T) (typically a shallow dish) used as a temporary vessel for Patroklos' remains (77. 23.236), and the Xdpvcc^ (usually some sort of chest) for Hektor (II. 24.795) are not shapes typically found in Attic cemeteries. Patterns in the excavated burials suggest that there was a gendered preference in the choice of vessel used to contain the ashes during the Protogeometric period. Neckhandled amphorae typically, though not exclusively, contained the cremated remains of men; belly-handled amphorae the remains of women.28 The location of burial and assemblage of grave goods displayed during the funeral may have identified additional characteristics of the deceased: location may have been connected to family, and patterns

Whitley 1991: 105-111; Stromberg 1993: 79-81.

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in grave good deposition suggest that conventional associations for particular objects would have been connected to gender and status. Gender associations for grave goods in Early Iron Age Athenian burials have been tested in a study by Agneta Stromberg, who applied an exclusion principle to the objects in published graves for which the gender of the deceased had been determined by osteology.29 Her study also identified items that co-occurred with high frequency, though not necessarily exclusively, with decedents of a particular gender and are thus likely to be indicative of gender when combined with other indicators. Scholars formerly associated some grave goods with a particular gender, such as drinking vessels with men that were proven unreliable, but jewelry was confirmed as associated with women. Stromberg makes the additional observation that grave goods rarely reflected day-to-day activities in which the deceased would have engaged in life.30 Spindle whorls, for example, are identified as female indicators but occur with low-frequency, in contrast to metal jewelry, which occurs with high frequency in female graves but has no practical application and is merely decorative.31 Her final conclusion is that the expression of individual characteristics was secondary to the status of the group.32 The objects connected with male status, especially weapons, are utilitarian in addition to having the inherent value of the metal. Among the few wealthy male burials from the Early Iron Age, Grave 13 (formerly Grave XXVII) from the Athenian Agora, ca. 900 B.C. is one of the most elaborate. It is the cremation burial of a man in his 29

Stromberg 1993. Stromberg 1993:108. 31 Stromberg 1993: 90-93 and 95. 32 Sternberg 1993:108-109. 30

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middle-thirties whose remains were placed in a neck-handled amphora with an iron sword bent around the neck (Figure 2.2).33 Several male graves have been found containing weapons, though only a few had "killed" weapons of this sort.34 Along with the pyre-sweepings, the grave contained burnt and unburnt pottery, iron tools, horse-bits, and carbonized figs and grapes.35 The iron weapons found in Grave 13 and those like it have led excavators to call them "warrior burials."36 At a minimum, the stages of ritual for such a burial must have included: preparation of the body, transport to the pyre, sacrifices and/or a feast at the pyre, collection of the cremated remains, deposition of the remains and grave goods in the prepared grave, covering the grave with a mound and perhaps setting up a marker. The complexity of the tasks alone suggests that the funeral would have taken more than a single day and that a number of people would have been involved.37 While the significance of many grave goods is a matter of speculation for modern scholars, most of the objects would have had specific associations for contemporary Athenian viewers. Like the mound itself, grave goods were types of sema, signs, used to

33

Thompson 1950: 330; Blegen 1952. As noted by Blegen [1952: 286], the most exact parallel to the sword was given by Kerameikos Grave PG 28, which contained a looped iron sword that likely had been bent around the neck and shoulder of the cinerary vase (Kiibler 1943: 34, Plate 38). "Killing" possessions of the deceased has been observed in the mortuary rites of many cultures and associated with both pollution and allowing the object to accompany the deceased to the underworld (Pearson 2000: 26). 35 Blegen 1952: 280. 36 Iron swords and knives have been found accompanying Protogeometric amphora burials in both the Kerameikos (Kiibler 1943: 34) and the Agora (Thompson 1947: 196). Krause identified ten male graves in the Kerameikos from the Protogeometric through Early Middle Geometric periods that contained iron weapons (PG Al, PG B, PG 2N, PG 6, PG 17, PG 34, G 2, G 13, G 23 and G 38). 37 Modern cremations in gas crematoria can be completed in as little as one hour (Wells 1960: 29-37). Ancient wood-fueled cremations, however, are estimated to have taken several hours and involved a substantial expenditure of wood. The 'Rich Athenian Lady', for example, is estimated to have been cremated in six to seven hours (Listen and Papadopoulos 2004:16). 34

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create a specific social persona for the deceased. Just as the purple robes used to wrap the gold larnax containing Hektor's cremated remains may have communicated his royal status (77. 24.795-796), a sword wrapped around an ash urn in Early Iron Age Athens may have communicated the warrior status of the deceased. Objects that supplement an oral account with a visual representation are an effective way to enhance collective memory. Paul Connerton explains that "concrete items easily translated into images are much better retained than abstract items because such concrete items undergo a double encoding in terms of visual coding as well as verbal expression."38 If the interpretation that a sword-wrapped amphora indicated warrior status is correct, those witnessing the burial would have seen his social identity as well as hearing it during the lament. The conventional associations of goods displayed during the prothesis and interment of the "warrior"—iron spear heads, knives, chisels and horse bits in addition to the sword—reinforced his social roles that would have been verbally communicated by the lament of female kin. The sword-wrapped, neck-handled amphora provided a formulaic representation of a warrior, easily recognized and remembered by those viewing the burial. The role of the deceased as protector of family and community would have been fixed in collective memory through the double encoding provided by the simultaneous experience of hearing the lament and viewing the sword that was ultimately wrapped around the amphora containing his ashes. The assemblage of goods interred with the deceased, therefore, not only claimed a specific status, it also represented a social role of vital importance to the survival of the community that had been left vacant

38

Connerton 1989: 27.

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by his death. Displaying his social persona at the funeral would have both perpetuated memory of the warrior aspect of his identity and provided a model for the young men who would replace him. Actual participation in battle likely was limited to adult or nearly adult males in Early Iron Age Attica, but there is no way of knowing if the man in Grave 13 actually participated in battle. The objects only give an indication of his status.39 The sword is a utilitarian item, but its utilitarian value had been eliminated by bending it around the ash amphora. "Killing" the weapon in this way both prevented anyone else from inheriting it and made the weapon quite literally bound to his social persona as it was represented during the funerary rites. To die honorably in battle is not a fate limited to Homeric heroes but was also celebrated in later grave inscriptions, literary sources, and Classical grave sculptures, which suggest that warrior status remained an important category into the Classical period in Athens.40 Warrior status also had important implications for the survival of the community. By celebrating this particular social role at the funeral, the burying group claims a certain status but also provides a model for the "community protector," a role that would continuously have been filled by boys whose entry into warrior status would have been marked with communal rites. As already noted in the discussion of Stromberg's study, female graves rarely contained objects that can be identified as utilitarian. Like the "killed sword" the objects

39

Stromberg identified weapons as the only reliable indicator of male gender in Early Iron Age Athenian graves (Strfimberg 1993: 102), but knives are also occasionally found in women's graves, as in the case of the 'Boots Grave' (no. D 16:2) in Athens (Young 1949: 289; Langdon 2008:134 and fig. 3.4). 40 See for example, the Kroisos inscription: OTE0I : Kai oiKTipov : Kpoioo Trapa aiya 6CXV6VTOS : / hov TTOT' EVI Trpondxois : OAEOE Gopos: /\pE$. (IG I31240); Solon's story about Tellos in Herodotos (Her. 1.30); the Dexileos gravestone from the Athenian Kerameikos (Knigge 1991: 112-113, Fig. 3a).

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suggest a social category that must be continuously filled for the community to persist. Langdon has highlighted a particular collection of objects, common in female graves, as a standard "burial kit" for young women in Athens during the Early Iron Age.41 Hair spirals, entirely absent from male graves, are ubiquitous in these kits, but terracotta models of boots, dolls, chests and baskets also frequently were placed in the graves of young women as well.42 The entire assemblage displayed during the funeral would have emphasized the persona of a female preparing for marriage. Langdon has attributed the disparity in the level of elaboration between the grave assemblages for young men and women to the idea that "while girls' deaths cheated them of their ultimate purpose, boys' lives were validated all along and needed less symbolic funerary compensation."43 Compensation for an unfulfilled life may have in part motivated the rich assemblage of grave goods deposited in young women's graves, but it should also be emphasized that the persona displayed at the funeral represented an "empty" social role. The death of a young woman meant the loss of a potential mother, a social role essential for the perpetuation of a community. In contrast to the life stages of men, women's transitions between roles were not defined so much by public activity, but did involve a transition of great significance for the perpetuation of households: marriage. Marriage separated a woman from her natal oikos (household) and made her the vehicle of perpetuation for another.44 Making reference to Bruce Lincoln's study of gender,

41

The pattern is largely based on 11/15 Early Iron Age Athenian graves containing hair spirals and independently identified as female (S. Langdon 2008: 130-131). 42 S. Langdon 2008: 130-137. 43 S. Langdon 2008: 143. 44 Just [1991: 31-32; 95-98] emphasizes that the reproductive role of women was closely connected to special legal rights by the Classical period. Both widows claiming to be pregnant by their dead husband and

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Langdon observes that "[r]ather than a proactive achievement of adult status, hers is a gradual transformation from one 'on whom no one depends' to a fertile woman on whom all society depends."45 Given the value of childbearing for the perpetuation of the community and the fact that marriage and childbearing went hand-in-hand, perhaps it should come as no surprise that the social persona of a woman was most clearly marked when her potential as a mother had been lost to the community. The "Boots Grave" (Agora Grave D 16:2), dated to the early ninth century B.C. by Young, provides a rich example of the maiden assemblage identified by Langdon.46 Like the "Warrior Grave," the "Boots Grave" was a trench-and-hole burial, but the cremated remains were placed in a shoulder-handled amphora, a type that had begun to take the place of the belly-handled variety. Among the pyre debris that had been swept into the trench was an assortment of grave goods, including two pairs of model boots, a horse pyxis, two hair spirals, bronze pins, and an assortment of pottery. The objects chosen by the young woman's burial group to represent her persona are strikingly different from those that had been chosen for the "warrior." If Langdon is correct in her assessment of the symbolic value of the objects, the assemblage would have supplemented the verbal description of the girl's identity given in the lament by providing a visual formula indicative of an unmarried young woman. The loss of the

epikleroi were entitled to special protection in Athens. An epikleros was the daughter of a male decedent who had no surviving sons. If she had a son, he would be entitled to his grandfather's property (MacDowell 1978: 95-98; Todd 1995: 226-231). Such a circumstance produced a notable exception to the transfer between households: if a man had only daughters, he might adopt a son who would marry his daughter to continue the oikos (Just 1991: 95). In any case, the laws suggest that the child-bearing role of women was highly valued in Athens by the historical period and likely earlier as well. 45 S. Langdon [2008: 128] quoting Lincoln [1981: 107]. 46 Young 1949; S. Langdon 2008: 132-133, Table 3.1.

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young woman, furthermore, would have impacted the burying group in its capacity for reproduction, and the objects displayed during the funeral would have reminded viewers of the need to replace a potential mother. An even more complex female assemblage is illustrated by Grave H 16:6 from the north slope of the Areopagos, known as the tomb of the "Rich Athenian Lady" and dated ca. 850 B.C. (Figure 2.3). Like the "Warrior" and "Boots" graves, the cremated remains were placed in an amphora, which was then deposited in a trench-and-hole grave. The volume of animal bones among the pyre debris suggests that an elaborate feast including over 70 kg of meat had been part of the rites at the tomb.47 Such a large quantity of meat makes it likely that this funeral was a community event and certainly involved more people than would be expected in a typical household. Unlike the young woman in the "Boots Grave," however, the "Rich Athenian Lady" was cremated with an unborn child or neonate.48 Her death thus represented a significant loss to both her natal family and the family of her husband. Her natal family was deprived of the marriage bond between families, and her husband lost a child, who otherwise may have contributed to the perpetuation of his household. In spite of her married and clearly not maiden status, her grave assemblage included all of the objects that Langdon has associated with maiden burials. Even more so than would have been the case for a young woman who died shortly before she could be married, the death of the "Rich Athenian Lady" and her child embodied the lost potential for future generations for the burying group.

Smithson 1968: 77-116; Liston and Papadopoulos 2004: 15. Liston and Papadopoulos 2004.

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Also included among her grave goods were luxury items of imported materials such as gold, ivory and faience. Surviving literature gives no indication that material items were thought to provide any benefit to shades in the afterlife. The emphasis, as we have seen in Homer, was instead on being remembered among the living. The extravagant deposition of wealth undoubtedly helped make a funeral memorable, but the objects chosen by the burying group also would have been indicative of specific status and social roles. The exotic materials were deposited in her grave were not an impersonal display of wealth. Gold jewelry and ivory seals, not ingots and unworked ivory, and model granaries, a relatively rare pottery shape, had been deposited at the time of burial.49 These items were a display of wealth with specific connotations. In her publication of the burial, Smithson suggested that the ivory seals could have been an indication of her or her family's involvement in Eastern trade, and that the granaries could be an indication of social class based on wealth, as is said to have been instituted by Solon during his archonship in 594/3 B.C.50 The latter proposition, however, is unlikely to be valid, as the property qualifications attributed to Solon by Aristotle likely would not have been operative in the ninth century.51 Liston and Papadopoulos have pointed out the alternative possibilities that the rich grave goods may have been connected to the fact that the woman was pregnant and thus warranted special treatment or that the special treatment resulted from the status of the child rather than the status of the woman herself.52 Adding support to this hypothesis 49

Williams [2000: 392, n.22] provides a list of published examples. Smithson 1968: 83; Aristotle, Ath. Pol. 7.3; Plutarch, Solon XVIII.1-2. 51 Morris and Papadopoulos 2004: 229; Williams 2000: 392-394. 52 Liston and Papadopoulos 2004: 28-30.

50

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is the suggestion by Langdon that granaries have a stronger association with the graves of children than with those of women.53 As the previous discussion has suggested, the death of a woman in her reproductive years with her newborn child represents a particularly significant death in terms of community welfare. Not only was the next generation lost too soon to contribute to perpetuating the community, the means of filling vacant social roles had been lost as well.54 The idea that funerary commemoration somehow provides compensation for an unfulfilled life has been endorsed by a range of scholars,55 but the possibility that grave goods may have emphasized the loss of a resource indispensable to the perpetuation of the living community has not received as much attention. What the three graves described above have in common, in addition to the same basic ritual elements attested by the trench-and-hole burial method, is the representation of social roles that were necessary for the community to insure its survival. The paradox of the warrior role is that in times of war sending young men into battle would be essential for the survival of the community but also had the potential to deplete the community of a resource on which survival depended, young men. Hektor's value to the community is announced through the lament of the women, but the oral account is reinforced by the objects with which he is buried. The multidimensional communication provided by ritualized speech, actions and grave goods over the course of the funeral fix knowledge of Hektor, his vacated roles, and his relation to survivors in the memory of those still living. By displaying the 53

S. Langdon 2008:142. Perikles' oration to surviving community members given during the Peloponnesian War in 431/0 B.C., as recorded by Thucydides, includes the imperative that parents who are able should have more children (Thucydides, 2.44.3). 55 Shapiro 1991: 644; Sourvinou-Inwood 1996: 287-290; S. Langdon 2008: 140.

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relationship of the dead to the living in a conventional manner, funerary ritual also formalizes the social negotiations necessitated by the loss of a key member of the community. Although absent from the Homeric epics, the deaths of young women in Archaic Athens would have been a shared concern for the living as well, because young women, like young men, were essential for the community to reproduce itself. Just as much as it needed warriors to secure resources, the living community was dependent on young women becoming mothers to perpetuate its existence. Objects with conventional associations are one aspect of representing the identity of the deceased in Early Iron Age Athens, but it must not be forgotten that oral tradition was the other. If the formulaic lament for Hektor in Book 24 of the Iliad (24.723-775) may be taken as a model, objects displayed at the funeral reinforced oral identification of the deceased and his or her social roles.56 After the burial rites concluded, the identity of the deceased, and who had inherited his or her social roles and property, would have been retained in the memory of living community members who had witnessed the rites. Transmitting knowledge of the deceased beyond the burial attendees, however, would be entirely oral and dependant on mortal memory, because the semata placed above-ground were largely non-specific. Vases without figural decoration and rough stone slabs were sometimes used as markers, but the specificity they conferred was limited. Such monuments could do little more than indicate the location of a grave and perhaps the gender of the deceased. The most significant aspects of his or her identity would have

56

Alexiou [2002: 113] has argued that laments in Athenian tragedy "contain a striking number of common formulae and themes . . . This suggests a basis in popular belief outside the confines of tragic drama."

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been buried with the grave goods. Such monuments thus did little to counteract the polysemic nature of the mound recognized in the Homeric poems. An interest in reinforcing collective memory of the deceased through objects with conventional associations is visible in the burial record of Early Iron Age Athens, as well as in the Homeric poems. Identity of the deceased was not represented in every aspect, but rather those roles with special significance for the perpetuation of the community seem to have been made the most visible in elite burials. The representations in turn provided a model for successive generations who would fill the vacated social roles. The disparate elements of commemoration in this period provide the foundation for the representational innovations which follow during the Archaic period in Attic cemeteries. The significance of commemorative objects changes from the conventional associations of the objects themselves to objects as vehicles for conventional iconography. Motifs derived from communal ritual and the heroic paradigm provided by myth emerge even more clearly as a reflection of the gendered social hierarchy. In the Archaic period, semata with figural motifs indicative of social persona began to appear above-ground, which in part may have counteracted the ambiguous morphology of an earth mound by specifying it as a funerary monument.

The Human Figure on Late Geometric Pottery Grave markers of both terracotta and stone had increased in number and size by the Late Geometric period in Athenian cemeteries. Inhumation also returned and was

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practiced side-by-side with cremation, which became less common. Vase shapes previously used to contain cremated remains continued to be placed in inhumation graves, but the krater became the most common "male" shape for the terracotta markers.58 Morris has argued that burial became selective in the Kerameikos at the end of the eighth century B.C., with likely all of the graves marked by a large vase. Whitley suggests that the increasingly monumental grave architecture reflects a visible change in ritual and argues that stylistic attributes of the pottery correspond to social differences at death.59 Neither scholar addresses the innovation of figural decoration in terms of countering the polysemic nature of the mound, and the potential for these objects to reinforce the ritual display that occurred during the funeral. Although the oral component of funerary commemoration remains ephemeral, representations of funerary ritual are the focus of the decoration on the Late Geometric vases that were used to mark elite graves. The motifs became more elaborate over time and came to include visual formulae associated with other communal rituals, particularly maturation rites, to provide additional indicators of social persona. The monumental Late Geometric vases with the corpse depicted in the central decorative zone were the first step toward perpetuating the persona of the deceased with an above-ground display that would be visible to the living beyond the conclusion of the funeral. The primary evidence for this period remains archaeological and comes from the graves themselves. The figural iconography on the vessels placed in and over the graves 57

Coldstream 2003: 119-123. Whitley 1991:138; Boardman 1988. Stromberg notes, however, that there is one example of a krater used to mark a Middle Geometric inhumation grave for a woman in the Kerameikos (Stromberg 1993: 81; Kttbler 1954: 28). 59 Whitley 1991:117; I. Morris 1987: 151-155. 58

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provides an additional source of information, but interpreting this type of evidence also presents challenges. Representations of the prothesis typically occupy the central decorative zone of the vases used to mark Attic graves by ca. 750 B.C. according to the traditional chronology,60 but the interpretation of variations in the scene and of any secondary representations on the vases is far from straightforward. The funerary nature of the vases is assured both by their context of deposition and by the central position the corpse occupies in the decorative scheme, while supplemental elements may offer multiple possibilities. The similarity of some scenes to Homeric descriptions of funerary ritual and particular heroic episodes has fuelled scholarly debate over the extent to which the scenes on the vases represent the real practices of the late eighth century in Attica. The degree to which the discussion has raged over whether or not Geometric pottery illustrates scenes from epic is in itself an indication of the common tradition influencing commemorative representations and epic poetry. Coldstream, for example, suggested that a Geometric shipwreck scene may have been intended to represent Odysseus, as well as supporting the interpretation of the Agora oinochoe as the Molione twins described in Book 11 of the Iliad (709-710; 750-752).61 Murray Dahm, in contrast,

While the relative chronology of vase shape and decoration has been well-established, there has been some dissent regarding absolute chronology. The most aggressive adjustments were proposed by Francis and Vickers, who would have lowered the dates between the eighth and sixth centuries by about 60 years. A full bibliography of their many articles on the subject and presentation of their views is available in Francis [1990], which was published posthumously and edited by Vickers. The majority of scholars have rejected their arguments (Cook 1989), though a few have proposed a more moderate lowering of the chronology, particularly at the end of the sixth century (Neer 2002:186-205). Regarding the difficulties with fixed points in the Iron Age and Archaic period, see I. Morris [1989: 10-14]. Based on the convergence of evidence from Palestinian archaeology and west Semitic epigraphy with the spread of alphabetic writing to Greece, Sass [2005: 154] has recently proposed a chronological shift in the opposite direction that would raise the beginning of the Late Geometric period by 20-30 years. 61 Coldstream 2003: 353-354. Webster [1955] credited Hampe with starting off the debate to which so many scholars have contributed. Central to the debate is whether the Siamese twin warriors depicted on an

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has recently offered two alternative interpretations of the double figure. He argues that the scene on the jug is not the battle involving the Molione but rather a temporal illusion depicting the same warrior at two different points in time, or an optical illusion based on the location of the scene on the vase.62 Whether an illustration of Homer, a paratactic representation of fighting from a chariot, or a witty trick of perspective, the composition may have been experimental but is unlikely to have been intentionally ambiguous, as ambiguity would have been at odds with the formulaic idiom of Geometric iconography. Hurwit has identified "legibility" as one of the defining features of Geometric art, and this legibility is achieved by reducing representations to their most definitive elements.63 Shared cultural context gives the images meaning. Whitley also recognizes the influence of common tradition and follows Norman Bryson in describing the Geometric mode of representation as "denotative," in which "characterization, if desired, is achieved through the addition of particular signs or features of a conventional nature."64 As Snodgrass has pointed out, this characterization was not aimed at the identification of specific legendary figures. The artists instead chose "to arrange their figures in such a way as to make the viewers read their own, inevitably divergent, stories into them."65 The nature of Geometric iconography thus suggests that the appropriate question is not: which Homeric scene is illustrated? but rather: what thematic patterns are common to Homeric poetry and Geometric art? The common tradition shared and

oinochoe found in the Athenian Agora (no. P4885) are the Homeric Molione. To the bibliography on the vase given in Papadopoulos [1999] should be added Dahm [2007]. 62 Dahm 2007. 63 Hurwit 1985: 28. 64 Whitley 1991: 46; Bryson 1983. 65 Snodgrass 1998: 159.

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perpetuated through oral tradition in part gives conventional images their meaning. Thematic patterns identified in oral tradition thus can be useful for understanding the significance of iconographic motifs, but the images must also be located within the context of use for the objects on which they appear. Langdon has taken just such an approach. Rather than attempting to connect individual scenes on vases with episodes known from Greek myth, she has focused on identifying thematic patterns that can be connected to rite-of-passage rituals in ancient Greek society. She links the representations on vases, whether on funerary vessels or on vessels for other communal rituals, to the occasions for which they were created. Many of the same themes occur in a number of ritual contexts with high frequency and may be connected to various rites that categorized elite individuals within the community. Just as the "maiden kit" deposited in a young woman's grave identified her as a potential bride, iconographic motifs connected to maturation rites and other public activities reflect the paradigm of a gendered social hierarchy.66 When applied to objects displayed as part of a funerary assemblage, the association of particular motifs with specific age and gender roles transforms the objects into vehicles for categorizing the deceased within the hierarchy of the community. The idiom based on conventional associations within which Geometric decoration was produced allowed grave markers to carry representations that were ideally suited to compensating for the ambiguous morphology of the burial mound. As explained by

Langdon 2008: 34-37.

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Fentress and Wickham, the images used to transmit collective or "social" memory must be conventionalized and simplified: conventionalized, because the image has to be meaningful for an entire group; simplified, because in order to be generally meaningful and capable of transmission, the complexity of the image must be reduced as far as possible.67 The Geometric idiom reduces ritual activity and social roles to their defining elements in order to create immediately identifiable associations within the cultural context. The common tradition linking ritual practices in Archaic Athens and heroic stories in the Homeric poems provided the foundation for simplified images to evoke complex associations. When applied to counteracting the polysemic nature of burial mounds, the formulaic prothesis scene in the central decorative zone resolved any ambiguity about the funerary nature of a mound, even though details indicating the individual identity of the deceased were still lacking. The same type of commemorative monument was used for native Trojans, foreign Greeks, and male and female decedents. Misidentification resulting from the limitations of human memory, such as occurs when the contemporary generation of men label Myrina's mound a natural hill in Book Two of the Iliad, highlights the potential ambiguity of a tumulus.68 When placed on top of a mound, vases such as the Dipylon amphora (Figure 0.1) with a central prothesis scene would have counteracted misidentification of the nature of the monument by evoking recognition of funerary ritual. As the following discussion will show, the prothesis scene identifies the

67 68

Fentress and Wickham 1992: 47. See//. 2.811-815 and the discussion of polysemy in Chapter 1: 50-56.

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mound as indisputably funerary and provides a lasting visual reminder of the rites performed by the burying group. The arrangement of figural motifs on Late Geometric grave markers overwhelmingly makes the corpse on a bier, the most definitive element of a funeral, the focal point of the iconography. The funerary nature of the vessels was communicated through the placement of a prothesis scene in the central zone between the handles on monumental amphorae and kraters, although an ekphora scene with the corpse on a wagon appears on a few vases (Figures 2.4) as well.69 In both types of scene, the corpse rests on a platform or bier and typically is accompanied by an assortment of mourning figures. Women and children, distinguished by size, gesture, or physical attributes of gender, make up the majority of the figures in close proximity to the bier. The small figure to the right of the bier in the prothesis scene on the Dipylon amphora (Figure 0.1b) is likely a child, as is the small figure at the feet of the corpse in the ekphora scene on NM 990 (Figure 2.4).70 On this same vase, the addition of stylized breasts to the mourners following the wagon distinguishes them as women. There can be no mistaking either vase as anything but funerary. Human figures are often depicted in supplemental friezes in addition to the mourners in the central bier scene. The gender of the figures and the activity in which they are engaged is not always clear to the modern viewer, but the ritualized nature of the

69

Ahlberg-Cornell 1971: 171. Ahlberg-Cornell has identified only three examples of the ekphora motif preserved in Geometric art in contrast to 52 examples of the prothesis motif (Ahlberg-Cornell 1971: 220221). 70 Other prothesis scenes, for example on Metropolitan Museum, New York, no. 14.130.14 (AhlbergCornell 1971: Fig. 25) and National Museum, Athens, no. 802 (Ahlberg-Cornell 1971: Fig. 7), show smaller figures seated on the laps of larger ones. These figures surely must be children rather than slaves.

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actions is clear and likely would have been unambiguous to a contemporary spectator. Indications of breasts and patterned skirts sometimes identify female figures, while swords indicate men in the friezes. Formulaic attitudes of the figures often indicate gender when definitive attributes are lacking. In her study of prothesis and ekphora scenes in Late Geometric art, Ahlberg-Cornell has determined that raising both hands to the head is the typical female mourning gesture; male mourners are shown in a wider variety of attitudes but frequently have one hand raised to the head or in valediction.71 Dancers of both genders and male warriors, either processing or riding on chariots and occasionally ships, are also common motifs in the friezes. The characteristic scenes likely are a result of the tradition shared with epic poetry and the paradigm provided by heroic representations, oral or pictorial, rather than an interest in representing specific scenes from epic. Both modes of representation depend on formulae and generic scenes composed from conventional elements to which details may be added for emphasis and greater specificity.72 Similar to the way "economy of ritual"73 may account for simple and elaborate versions of the same rite, economy of narrative accounts for the various levels of detail with which funerary rites are described in the poems. An elaborate performance or description may not have been necessary to meet the ritual requirements or fulfill the needs of the narrative in every case. Minimal

71

Ahlberg-Cornell 1971: 77-78; 106-107. The use and expansion of type-scenes in Homer was initially put forth in the work of Arend [1933] and elaborated by scholars like Lord [1951]. Later scholars have developed the topic further; for a summary of the scholarship, see Edwards [1987: 77]. 73 See above: 88. 72

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representation of the funeral in the Homeric poems is marked by a formula such as TO yap yepas ecrri 6CCV6VTCOV, which concludes the summary of Sarpedon's funeral:74 ev8d E Tapxuaouai Kaafyvr|Toi TE ETCH TE TU|i(3cp TE axriAri TE- TO yap yEpas EOTI GavovTcov. (Iliad 16.457 and 675)

There family and companions will honor him a mound and stele, for this is the due of the dead.

wjth

The poet does not ever describe funerary rites in exhaustive detail but rather focuses on the essential elements (prothesis, cremation, heaping up a mound) then adds details in order to amplify the social persona of the hero and suit the needs of the narrative. The details of Patroklos' and Hektor's funerals in the Iliad have as much to do with their respective roles as the henchman and nemesis of Achilles as with the heroes themselves. Patroklos' funeral re-incorporates Achilles into the community of the Greeks in the same way as "gentle" Patroklos had served as an intermediary in life, while Hektor's funeral represents the virtual destruction of Troy and foreshadows the funeral of Achilles himself.75 Economy of narrative also accounts for the brief treatment Achilles' funeral receives in the Odyssey, in which he is not the protagonist but the hero who achieved kleos aphthiton (imperishable fame). The way funerary rites in epic can be reduced to an essential element such as lamentation or the erection of a monument or elaborated with details to enhance key moments in the narrative is paralleled by the representation of the funeral on the commemorative vessels set up on the mounds.

TO/6 yap yepas £cni OavovTcov also occurs at Iliad 9.422 and 23.9, and Odyssey 24.190 and 24.296. Garland [1984-1986: 11] explains that "the rites embodied by the yEpccs 0OV6VTCOV were performed retrospectively in recognition of services rendered by the dead during their lifetime, and prospectively in expectation of receiving similar treatment from relatives and friends oneself." "Chapter 1:74.

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The Geometric correlative to TO yap yEpas EOTI 9avovTcov is the prothesis scene or occasionally a frieze of female mourners, which identifies the vase as funerary even when depiction of the corpse is lacking.76 The Dipylon amphora is the most distinctive example of the way the prothesis scene provides the iconographic focus on a Late Geometric grave marker (Figure 0.1a). Almost the entire vessel is covered with nonfigural friezes, the exceptions being the small animal friezes on the neck, the central prothesis scene on the shoulder of one side, and a frieze of mourners on the other.77 The central position of the corpse on a bier stands out against the background of patterned friezes and immediately communicates the funerary nature of the monument. The information conveyed by the vase, however, may not have been limited to specifying the mound as funerary. Ahlberg has argued that the corpse is female based on her observation that female corpses are never accompanied by martial friezes, in much the same way as swords were not deposited in female graves.78 The suggestion is attractive, but given the lack of a gendered grave context for the majority of the vases, it is impossible to verify. If she is correct, the conventional associations of the object as a funerary vase may have been complemented with additional motifs in order to create a visual reminder of the deceased woman whom the mound commemorated. Just as ritual actions described in Homeric poetry are unlikely to have been maintained in oral tradition if they were unfamiliar to Greeks at the time the poems were written down, the prothesis would likely not be so common on funerary vases if it was 76

The monumental Late Geometric vases used as grave markers always include depiction of the corpse, but smaller vases deposited in the grave and on the monument may lack the prothesis scene. The lack of a prothesis becomes more common in the Early Protoattic period (Rombos 1988: 336). 77 Ahlberg-Cornell 1971: 36 and Figures 2a-c. 78 Ahlberg-Cornell 1971: 36 and 289.

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not an element of funerary ritual at the time the vases were produced. The conventional nature of contemporary funerary ritual provided the basis for recognition of specific associations with the iconography of the vases. Social roles of the deceased previously represented through the display of grave goods thus could be indicated through the representation of funerary scenes on the grave marker instead.80 In spite of their formulaic composition, individualizing details are not entirely lacking. Based on the unique compositional details observed in her survey of prothesis and ekphora scenes on Late Geometric vases, Ahlberg has concluded that variations in the details are meant to communicate aspects of a particular funeral.81 She suggests that a large number of figures on a monumental krater, for example, may have been a reminder of a large ceremony for contemporary viewers.82 The figures in close proximity to the corpse, especially the children, may represent the existence of family members, if not the family members themselves. Their placement, moreover, likely is connected to the traditional roles performed by children related to the deceased during Attic funerary rites. Both the prothesis scene on the Dipylon amphora (Figure 0. lb) and the ekphora scene on the Late Geometric krater in Athens (Figure 2.4) may provide examples of individualizing details. The majority of the figures on the vases occur in friezes and are likely formulaic representations of funerary processions, but the composition within the central scene contains a unique arrangement of adult mourners and children around the

79

The prothesis is not very common on Protoattic pottery but appears frequently again on Attic black figure funerary vessels. 80 Whitley 1991: 160-162. 81 Ahlberg-Cornell draws on the unique composition of prothesis scenes in support of the argument that monumental vases were commissioned (Ahlberg-Cornell 1971: 286-288). 82 Ahlberg-Cornelll971:72.

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bier. The unique composition of these central scenes suggests that vases used as grave markers, if they were commissioned, may have been intended to convey specific information about the family of the deceased to contemporary viewers.83 Even if the vase was not commissioned, it was chosen by the burying group, just as grave goods had been chosen by the burying group of the "Warrior" and "Rich Athenian Lady," to suit their desire to commemorate social roles vacated by the deceased. Unlike grave goods, however, a monumental vase would have provided a visual reminder of the rites and perpetuated memory of the deceased with a lasting representation in the landscape of the living community. As the iconographic focus of a grave marker, a prothesis scene including children may also have been intended to perpetuate communal knowledge that the deceased had surviving heirs, which a mound alone could not communicate.84 At Early Iron Age funerals any heirs likely would have had a prominent role in the rites, but their existence and identity would have been attested by oral tradition alone. By choosing a marker vase with children in the prothesis scene, however, the monument would include a visual representation that reinforced memory of the participants at the funeral. It is granted that the information conveyed by the image would be limited, at most it would communicate the number of children the deceased had at the time of death. Even this limited representation, however, would have provided surviving heirs with iconographic

With regard to the individualization of the scenes, Ahlberg [1971: 287] states that "we are entitled to draw the conclusion that the pictures were made with the distinct purpose to be understood by the onlooker, for whom the underlying associations were fresh and active." 84 The prominent position of children in funerary rites has already been suggested by the words with which Andromache opens her lament for Hektor (Chapter 1: 79-80; cf. //. 24.726).

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validation of collective memory, validation that had been absent until objects bearing figural representations were incorporated into the commemorative assemblage. Friezes on the monumental vases may have represented additional characteristics of the deceased that become less frequently elaborated by grave goods. Just as the swords in warrior burials likely claimed a particular social role for the deceased and his burying group, warrior friezes on monumental vases may have claimed warrior status for the deceased and/or represented processions that were part of the funeral.85 Chariot friezes are another common supplemental motif and may represent a variety of contemporary activities based on the type of chariot depicted. Theodora Rombos has argued that some "chariots" are actually the wagons used in the ekphora processions.86 She suggests that other chariot friezes may represent races, even the apobates race as has been suggested by Thompson and Wycherley for the Essen K 969 amphora.87 The race became a traditional element of the Panathenaia festival and involved armed warriors jumping on and off racing chariots. If it existed in the eighth century, it was likely an elite activity like the equestrian events at the Panhellenic games that would be celebrated in the epinician poetry of Simonides, Bacchylides, and Pindar at the end of the Archaic period. The ship scenes so frequently interpreted as illustrations of epic also could be a reference to contemporary activity and status, rather than the depiction of a particular scene from myth. Noting that battle scenes disappear ca. 700 B.C., Rombos has argued that the ship scenes on Attic Late Geometric kraters nonetheless would correspond to a 85

Rombos [1988: 143] argues that warrior processions were part of contemporary funeral processions and possibly connected to the status of the deceased and his family. 86 Rombos 1988:96. 87 Thompson and Wycherley 1972: 121.

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period of "flourishing commercial activity" during the lifetime of the deceased, ca. 760 B.C.88 Snodgrass, in contrast, has argued that the famous "abduction" scene on an Attic bowl in the British Museum, variously interpreted as Theseus and Ariadne, Jason and Medea or Paris and Helen, has its roots in an iconographic and legendary tradition dating back to the Bronze Age and cannot be a scene "from the home life of an Athenian seacaptain of the eighth century."89 The representation is not specific to an individual but likely invokes associations from both contemporary experiences and the stories of myth. Much like Snodgrass' characterization of Geometric art in general,90 Langdon's interpretation of the abduction scene bridges the divide between the legendary and real life by interpreting the image as a paradigm shaped by both. Rather than connecting the scene to a particular myth, she instead invokes the wrist-clasping theme as it appears in the Homeric poems and Geometric art to identify the gesture as one of "gendered authority."91 After rejecting the identification of the bowl as a krater for mixing wine due to the spouted form, which would have been more appropriate for a loutrophoros (a vessel for transporting heated bath water), she connects the vessel to a heroic paradigm for the marriage ritual. In the final analysis she argues that the iconography "invites the viewer to participate in a social configuration in which domination of the female by the male is represented as the ideal relationship between the sexes."92 The provenance of the vase is uncertain, but like its contemporaries used to mark graves in Attic cemeteries, the iconography may be connected to ritual and reflect the categorization of social identity. 88

Rombos 1988: 154; c.f. Coldstream 1968: 350. Snodgrass [1998: 34] in reference to British Museum, no. 1899.2-19.1. 90 See above, p. 102. 89

91 92

S. Langdon 2008: 27. S. Langdon 2008: 32.

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The Late Geometric figural idiom likely was operative in the decoration of objects used in a variety of social rituals, but the clearest context of use preserved in the archaeological record is that of funerary commemoration. The monumental vases represent a significant step toward compensating for the ambiguous commemoration provided by an earth mound in Archaic Athens through the incorporation of figural motifs with conventional associations in a lasting display. The central prothesis scene identifies the monuments as indisputably funerary, while details within the scene and supplemental friezes provided visual reminders of the social roles claimed for the deceased by the burying group during the funeral. With the addition figural vases to the commemorative assemblage above-ground, memory of the deceased was no longer wholly dependent on oral transmission. The monument also became capable of providing visual testimony for the persona of the deceased beyond the immediate witnesses to the funerary rites. The formulaic scenes on the vases draw on associations with ritual and the heroic paradigm through which they communicated the social role(s) claimed by the burying group in support of the collective memory created during the funeral. Although they clearly identified the mounds as funerary, monumental vases were not the final solution for perpetuating collective memory of the deceased in Archaic Attica. Pottery is friable and even more vulnerable to destruction than the earth mound, with human agency the prime culprit in both cases. Familial associations of the deceased also were not assured by a marker vase. While location may have been an indication of family affiliations for local community members, visitors from surrounding communities and foreign merchants would not be acquainted with local cemetery divisions. The

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innovation of figural decoration on monumental pottery at the end of the Early Iron Age, along with other heroic innovations of the Late Geometric period, suggest that the paradigm provided by myth had become useful to elite Athenians interested in perpetuating memory of the deceased beyond the conclusion of the funeral. These semata did more than simply mark the grave of the deceased, they were visual reminders, mnemata, of the rites performed that established his or her identity in collective memory as well.93

When Monsters Take Over The putative "Dark Ages" are not well understood in terms of the urban development and social organization of the city of Athens, in part due to the changes observed in the burial record. The prevailing view according to Walter Donlan is that by the ninth century B.C. Early Iron Age Greece, Attica included, was settled in small villages that were managed by pyramidal basileus (warrior-chief) systems of shifting allegiances. The Dark Age basileus who held the office of community leader owed his political superiority to a general recognition of his personal competence to lead. In practice, this meant he was an able warrior and astute politician, with a wealthy oikos and the largest personal following.94 The warrior-chiefs are thought to have been replaced by a horizontal aristocratic class by the eighth century that also competed for power but did so primarily within the

Mnema becomes synonymous with sema in funerary inscriptions of the Archaic period to be discussed in the fourth chapter. 94 Donlan 1985: 305.

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established social institutions of the early urban centers. David Phillips has argued that stasis (civil unrest) was occurring vertically, between the aristocracy and masses, rather than horizontally, between aristocratic clans by the seventh century B.C. in Attica.96 The chronological development of polis institutions remains a debated topic, but the work of Seaford suggests that funerary practices may have been central to the social negotiations of the developing state over the course of the Archaic period at Athens. Drawing on the theories regarding the relationship between cult centers and the beginnings of urbanization put forward by Francois de Polignac, Seaford has attempted to trace the development of the Archaic Athenian state through the social institutions reflected in the Homeric poems and tragedy.97 As part of this state development, he sees the competitive funerals of aristocratic elites to some degree supplanted by hero cult, which "may accordingly have promoted social cohesion by extending to a larger group the solidarityin-lamentation of the kinship group at the funeral, albeit in a less intense form."98 From a perspective more focused on economics, Coldstream has characterized early Athens as a small city engaged in maritime trade until the end of the eighth century when, in contrast to other early states that turned to colonization, "the Athenians had turned their backs on overseas ventures and preferred to colonize their own countryside." Settlement evidence is sparse, and Robin Osborne has emphasized that,

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Donlanl985:308. Phillips 2008: 35-40. 97 Seaford [1994: 111], citing de Polignac [1984: 143-149], comments that "[h]e stresses the new and exceptional power accruing to those who led the construction of the new collective structure while simultaneously preserving positions, qualities and ideas from the earlier age of autonomous chiefs. But the new structure also meant the end of the autonomous chief." 98 Seaford 1994: 111. 99 Coldstream 2003:135. 96

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during the seventh century, an increasing number of votive offerings were made at Attic cult sites, like the Mount Hymettos sanctuary, which are located away from centers of habitation.100 While cult activity in the Attic countryside seems to increase, visible cult and burial activity both appear to have declined within the city of Athens during the seventh century. Morris has argued for the early seventh century as the beginning of another period in which visible burial was restricted, while John Camp instead proposed that a decline in population resulted from drought, famine and disease.101 Camp's drought theory is largely based on the closure of wells in the early seventh century in the area that would become the Classical Athenian Agora. The assumption that the wells served a residential sector of the city, however, has been brought into question by John Papadopoulos, who has identified evidence of potters' activity in the area and concluded that the area was not residential.102 Papadopoulos argues that it was instead part of the early Kerameikos and dominated by cemeteries and potters' workshops.103 The burial evidence from seventh-century Athens is very limited and often poorly preserved. Kubler only attributes 28 graves to the seventh century, seven of which are adult graves without identifiable goods, and another five are urn-burials of children.104 There is evidence for seventh-century graves in the area of the Classical Agora as well, but only two graves with grave goods have been identified as belonging to adults, in

100

Both at Mount Hymettos and Tourkovouni, ceramic evidence suggests greater cult activity in the seventh century than in either the eighth or sixth (Osborne 1989; Lauter 1985; M. Langdon 1976). 101 1. Morris 1987: 152-155; Camp 1979 and 2001: 23-24. 102 Papadopoulos 2003: 276. 103 Papadopoulos 2003: 276. 104 Adult graves with goods: Appendix 1: cat. no. 1,5,6,8,9, 10, 16, 18, 19, 21, 22, 32, 43, 53, 55, 59 and 71; adult graves without goods: no. 2, 3, 4, 12 (but stele found in situ), 17,26 and 39; graves of children: 7, 13,14,15 and 20.

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contrast to eight urn-burials of infants and small children.

There was also a large

cemetery at Phaleron, but it likewise does not offer clear evidence of seventh-century adult grave assemblages.106 Although the evidence for seventh-century burial practices is limited, it nonetheless reveals that innovations in strategies of representation continued to be applied to funerary commemoration. The earth mound was modified by the addition of supplemental structures, and seventh-century pottery from cemetery contexts shifted its iconographic focus to include beasts and mythological monsters. The newfound popularity of Corinthian pottery and a renewed interest in the East have often been cited to account for the newly popular motifs.107 A closer examination of the archaeological record including the evidence for trade in metals, however, has led Sarah Morris to suggest that "the period called 'Orientalizing' extends from the Bronze Age to late antiquity and remains better understood as a dimension of Greek culture rather than a phase."108 The representation of eastern motifs on contemporary funerary objects was likely not the result of newfound familiarity with lions and hybrid beasts, but rather a result of heightened interest in motifs that had long been a part of Aegean visual culture even if they had been submerged for a period of time.

Graves XI and XII are adult inhumation graves; Graves II-IX are urn-burials of children (Young and Angel 1939). 106 Regarding the Phaleron graves published by Pelekides, Young says: "Twenty-six of the eighty-seven graves excavated by Pelekides are republished here. Of the twenty-six all but one (Grave 34) were urnburials of small children; presumably the part of the cemetery in which they were found was devoted in the seventh century exclusively to burials of children. Of the graves not under consideration here many contained no vases; of others the contents have become lost or mixed, so that the groups of vases cannot be trusted as evidence" (Young 1942:24). 107 Rasmussen 1991:63-66. 108 S. Morris 1992: 130.

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Similar to Hurwit's observation that figural representations reappear in the Geometric period in response to the political maneuvering of the aristocratic class, Langdon has argued that the adoption of Orientalizing monsters into Late Geometric art was not an issue of access but of need. The hero contest provides a new paradigm for maturation that had special meaning for the rising states: the tales are fundamentally about social order.109 Langdon, however, is not the only scholar who has argued for the value of heroic stories in the negotiation of social transitions. Vincent Farenga has seen in Homeric poetry the oral media, including the funerary lament and heroic tales, through which early poleis negotiated the transition from pre-state communities with political power concentrated in the hands of warrior chiefs to larger polis communities with multiple kin groups competing for political power.110 Heroic stories and fierce beasts are often juxtaposed in the Protoattic iconography of the seventh century, though the struggles they represent receive scant mention in epic. The fact that these motifs were taken up by Athenian vase painters in the seventh century and applied to local funerary vessels suggests that the motifs had conventional associations, like the Geometric formulae before them, which made them valuable for expressing claims about social roles and status. In the Athenian Kerameikos there is less evidence for grave goods, but more pronounced variation in terms of above-ground display among seventh-century monuments than previously. In addition to inhumation burials, which outnumbered inurned cremations by the end of the eighth century, the seventh century witnessed

109 110

S. Langdon 2008: 123. Farenga 1998.

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expensive primary cremations performed in the grave with goods deposited outside the grave on plastered offering places and in offering trenches (Figure 2.5).111 Mounds continued to be used and even increased in size but were supplemented with Grabbauten (rectangular mud-brick structures) that were built over the graves and plastered with different colors of stucco.112 The monuments, furthermore, were no longer topped by a single vase, but multiple vases frequently were added to the above-ground assemblage with additional goods placed in the offering trenches.113 In spite of the generally "poor" grave goods, the grave architecture suggests that a significant amount of effort and expense continued to be invested in elite funerary commemoration. Some of the offering trenches associated with the burials are quite large (up to 12 meters in length) and were used only once before being covered over with colored stucco.114 The trenches often contained both pottery and the remains of small animals from sacrificial fires, and their size suggests that a large number of people were involved in the rites. Like the offerings placed in the graves during the Early Iron Age, however, the goods deposited in the offering trenches would no longer have been visible once the rites were completed. Vases and other goods placed on top of the supplemental structures, in contrast, would have remained on view for as long as they were untouched by human agency.

111

Seel. Morris 1989: 153-154. Many of the graves lay under overlapping mounds and have plastered structures and paved offering areas associated with cremations and inhumations from the seventh and sixth centuries B.C. (Kiibler 1959: 90-92). " 3 Knigge 1991: 27; Kiibler 1976: 86-87. 114 KUbler 1976: 87-88. 112

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Unlike the mounds constructed of loose dirt, which were subject to erosion or even encroachment by neighboring mounds, the plastered tomb structures are unmistakably man-made and have distinct boundaries. Not only would the plaster have helped protect the structures from the elements, the colors would have been distinguishing features as well. The vases set up on the Grabbauten or on nearby offering places provided additional opportunities for figural representations to associate the deceased and his or her burying group with specific social roles. While the mound of Achilles in the Odyssey is distinguished by its visibility and great size, the tomb assemblages in the Kerameikos of the Early Archaic period were made distinctive through the application of colored plaster and the figural decoration of vases on display above-ground. The best-preserved tomb structure in the Kerameikos is Grabbau k, which was finished with red plaster (Figure 2.6).115 Plastic mourning women from the rims of at least two vases thought to have been set up on the roof of Grabbau k have been recovered by excavators.116 The figures, like the mourning women depicted on Late Geometric vases and the terracotta figurines placed in eighth-century graves, identify the funerary nature of the monument and provide a reminder of the rites performed by survivors at the funeral. Another example of the new grave architecture is provided by Grabbau x, which Kiibler dated to the second half of the seventh century.117 The east

115

According to Kiibler [1959: 27-30; 53-55 & 162, Abb. 34], Grabbau k contained an early sixth century cremation, Brandgrab 34, which was cut into an earlier tumulus, Grabhiigel K, which contained the seventh century cremation, Brandgrab 13. Knigge [1991: 106], in contrast, seems to date the Grabbau k to the seventh century. 116 Knigge 1991: 104; Kiibler 1959: 53-55. 117 Grabbau x, Kiibler 1959: 72-73.

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wall of the structure was covered with green plaster, and the sherds of a monumental Protoattic krater (Figure 2.7) that was discovered nearby are thought to have been mounted on its roof. The central motif on the krater is strikingly different than the prothesis scenes on Late Geometric vases of the preceding era. While the surface of the vessel is still divided into zones, the vase also has a clear "front" that is dominated by a sphinx on the preserved left side and a simply decorated "back" with a non-figural wave pattern.118 The sphinx on the krater marking Grabbau x clearly cannot have represented the social persona of the deceased in the same manner as the corpse in a prothesis scene. As the following discussion will show, it is likely that such creatures represent new formulae connected to contemporary initiatory rites. It is unknown if additional vases originally accompanied the sphinx krater on the roof, but the multiple vases displayed on Grabbau k provide for the possibility. The vases placed over seventh-century tombs, on plastered offering places and in offering trenches continued to depict traditional motifs such as mourning women, but prothesis scenes seem to have become less common.119 The prothesis does not disappear from the commemorative repertoire, but the corpse does not necessarily occupy the central zone of the decoration as had been common on Late Geometric funerary vases. Hybrid creatures and their defeat by heroes took over the central decorative zone of large vases accompanying the mounds, and there was greater variety in the shapes of vases as 118

Osborne [1989: 311] has noted one-sidedness as one of the features distinguishing Protoattic from Geometric decorative conventions. For the reverse side of the vase, see Kubler 1970: Plate 88. 119 Rombos has identified only two prothesis scenes in Early Protoattic in contrast to 33 in the final phase of Late Geometric (Rombos 1988: 45, Table 1).

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well.

Of the seven monumental vases discovered marking graves in the Kerameikos ca.

660-580 B.C., one krater was decorated with lions, two with sphinxes, and a krater and amphora each included centaurs.121 The other two kraters were decorated with a bird or palmette frieze. Centaurs also appear on the "Netos" Amphora found in the "outer" Kerameikos in Athens, and the "Nessos" Amphora in New York of uncertain provenance but Attic manufacture.122 The hybrid motifs on Orientalizing funerary vases suggest a change in the approach to commemoration. Did elite Athenian burying groups simply abandon formulaic representations during the seventh century? An examination of the grave assemblages suggests otherwise. Just as warrior and chariot friezes are the most common supplemental motifs on Geometric vases and likely associated with particular social categories during the late eighth century, the prominent motifs on the new generation of marker vases may be associated with a heroic paradigm connected to maturation rites for boys. The beasts are not the conquered foes Homeric heroes like Achilles but had fallen victim to the heroes of an earlier, monster-slaying generation that established the boundaries of human civilization. When the Homeric Odysseus does appear, he confronts the Cyclops Polyphemos rather than another hero on the Trojan plain. More commonly depicted on seventh-century funerary vases are Herakles slaying a centaur and Perseus decapitating Medousa.

I20

Knigge 1991: 26-27. Appendix 1: cat. no. 31, sphinx krater, ca. 580; 53, sphinx krater, ca. 630; 43, lion krater, ca. 620; 6, centaur krater, ca. 660; 55, centaur amphora, ca. 620; 8, bird krater, ca. 650; 18, palmette krater, ca. 610. 122 Netos Amphora: National Museum no. 1002, Athens, cf. Whitley 2001: 3-5; Nessos Amphora, Metropolitan Museum no. 11.210.1, New York, cf. S. Morris 1984:65-70. 121

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In the Iliad heroes like Bellerophon and Meleager are not primary characters but instead provide models of constructive social behavior for the generation of heroes who fought at Troy. Bellerophon's trials included the defeat of the chimera, but he also established the ties of hospitality that would be passed down to Glaukos and Diomedes (77. 6.152-195). Phoenix tells the story of boar-slaying Meleager to Achilles as a model for giving up a grudge in favor of fighting to preserve the community (77. 9.529-599). Just like the prothesis scene and friezes of mourning women, warriors or chariots, wild beasts and mythological hybrids had conventional associations based on contemporary ritual and the mythic stories transmitted through oral tradition. Myth and ritual overlapped in the sphere of maturation rites and provided material for iconographic formulae indicative of particular social roles and status. The incorporation of hybrid monsters and their defeat at the hands of heroes into funerary commemoration was still aimed at representing the persona and status of the deceased through conventional associations, but the new motifs invoked categories within the gendered social hierarchy through reference to the heroic paradigm. Lions were already a common motif on Late Geometric pottery, but the motif changes in Early Protoattic when scenes showing them attacking men disappear.123 As for the hybrid beasts, the sphinx becomes especially popular. Rombos lists 31 Early Protoattic vases with sphinxes, up from only one vase featuring the hybrid during the Late Geometric period.124 Lions and sphinxes both continued to be common in funerary iconography throughout the Archaic period and have frequently been dismissed as simply 123 124

Rombos 1988: 35-37, Table 1. Rombos 1988: 35-37, Table 1.

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apotropaic based on analogy to Near Eastern models, and the later recumbent lions may suit an apotropaic interpretation. The earliest representations do not characterize the lion as in any way protective,125 and scenes of men falling victim to attacking lions hardly seem appropriate as apotropaic iconography. On the contrary, a warrior actually fights off a lion while carrying another animal (from his herd or flock?) on a Late Geometric stand from the Kerameikos.126 In his exposition of Archaic Korinthian iconography, which incorporates and may have inspired the beasts that appear in Attic funerary iconography, Shanks draws on Gernet in order to connect iconography with social context. He explains that [m]edia of aristocratic intercourse, these are never to be 'traded', but 'acquired' (as ktemata) through war, raiding, contest and hospitality - institutions of an archaic transfer of goods. .. and may be, Gernet argues, associated with concepts of religious awe (aidos), teras and pelor, things extraordinary, mysterious, frightening, even monstrous.127 The early scenes making men the victims of lion attacks suggest that the lion was originally associated with a potentially fatal encounter and possibly represented a threat to be overcome along the lines of the heroic paradigm provided most famously by Herakles defeating the Nemean Lion. Langdon has argued that iconography invoking the heroic paradigm in maturation rites for boys was already operative during the Late 1 98

Geometric period. The early attack scenes also lend support to the argument Maxime Collignon made nearly a century ago that the lion used as a funerary monument should be 125

Markoe 1989: 87; Stewart 1990: 49; Vermeule 1979: 171-173. Rombos 1988: 198, cf. Kerameikos Inv. 407. 127 Shanks 1999: 82; cf. Gernet 1981:145. 128 Langdon 2008: 122-123. 126

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associated with the heroic confrontation of death.

The connection Glenn Markoe has

made between the lion attack motif and heroes who are victorious in battle is not necessarily incompatible with this interpretation.130 Homeric heroes likely are frequently compared to lions in the similes in part because they bring death to other men. Even if the lion always emerges victorious in Homer, Herakles, the hero most frequently depicted on Archaic Attic vessels, did not fall victim to his lion opponent. The popularity of this particular Herakles story in the sixth century is attested by more than 500 examples in Attic black-figure pottery.131 Prior to the "wrestling theme," which came into Attic vasepainting in the second quarter of the sixth century, the late seventh-century examples featured Herakles fighting the lion with a sword.132 The choice of weapon in the early examples may owe something to the Late Geometric Attic scenes in which a lion defeats a man, who typically carries a sword and is often in an upright posture.133 The arrival of Herakles and inspiration from the heroic paradigm thus may have transformed the focus of the motif from the threat (becoming the victim of a lion attack) to successful negotiation of the threat (defeating the lion). The sphinx also has associations with the heroic paradigm in later representations of her defeat by Oidipous,134 but the earliest appearance of this hybrid on an Attic vessel uy

Collignon 1911:91. Markoe 1989. 131 Boardman 1985: 221-222; Boardman [1981: 30] comments that "[t]his Labour is the commonest of all mythological scenes in antiquity, most of the representations being in Attic vase-painting." 132 Boardman [1981: 30] identifies NM 14929, Athens, originally from Sounium, as the earliest example. 133 Rombos 1988: 195-199. 134 Hesiod Theogony 326-327 recounts the birth of the Sphinx between the birth and slaying of two other monsters by famous heroes, Chimaira by Bellerophon and the Nemean Lion by Herakles, but does not mention Oidipous. The context nonetheless suggests that the Sphinx should be classified with other monsters slain by heroes well before her appearance in the famous play by Sophocles in the second half of the fifth century B.C. 130

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from a cemetery context suggests that she may have been associated with ritual as well. Athens NM 4881 (Figure 2.8) is a skyphos that was discovered in Dipylon Grave VI.135 The antithetical "sphinxes" with arms and equine legs are substantially different from the canonical sphinx familiar from both terracotta and stone funerary monuments, but scholarly consensus is that the creatures are sphinxes.136 Also included in the composition are female dancers approaching a seated figure, a lyre player, and two "Dipylon" warriors. The assembled elements suggest a ritual context—perhaps the composition makes reference to a rite for young warriors? A vessel from a child's grave in the Kerameikos dated ca. 500 B.C. (Figure 2.9) shows a nude youth confronting a sphinx, and an early sixth-century fragment (Figure 2.10) shows a bearded man in a similar posture confronting a siren. Both scenes suggest that the heroic paradigm was the model, which may also have been invoked during initiation rites for boys and young men. Is the youth facing the sphinx being tested in preparation for facing battle as an adult? Vermeule has pointed out that the sphinx is often depicted conversing with or pursuing boys,137 and Langdon counts her among the hybrid "mediator figures in social rites of passage."138 The applicability of "initiation" or "coming-of-age" rites in the anthropological sense to rituals in ancient Greece has recently been brought into question due to the great variety of rites among different communities and indications that

135

Langdon 2008: 170, Figure 3.21. Note that Rombos [1988: 460, no. 202] identifies the skyphos as NM 784. 136 Rombos 1988: 244; Coldstream [2003: 133] attributes the unusual form to lost contact with eastern originals, but as the following discussion will show early centaurs and gorgons suggest that the Greeks were perfectly capable of taking the idea of an eastern hybrid-creature and making it their own. Incorporation of the same motifs into stone funerary markers will be taken up in the next chapter. 137 Vermeule 1979: 171-173. 138 Langdon 2008: 122.

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frequently only select individuals within a community would participate in the rites. Fritz Graf points out that "the function of an initiation rite is to construct gendered adult beings, and every young individual has to be constructed in this way. There are no proxies in initiation rites: she or he who is not initiated will remain in the social marginality of a child or animal."139 He also makes the important observation that a tripartite narrative pattern in myth, though possibly derived from common patterns in ritual, does not automatically connect the story to historic or prehistoric initiation rituals.140 Scenes such as these Late Geometric and black-figure examples of sphinxes may be linked to commemoration of rites practiced by only a portion of the community that marked the progress of some boys toward maturity, the heroic counterpart of which would become most famous in the Classical Athenian tragedy by Sophocles. Some of the hybrid creatures also have associations with kleos and the funerary lament in the literary tradition, which may be connected to their popularity on vessels placed in and over graves. Sirens are hybrid creatures associated with one of Odysseus' trials in the Odyssey and, like the sphinx, began to appear in Attic funerary art during the Late Geometric period.141 In the Odyssey, the winged ladies offer to sing about the Trojan War to Odysseus (Od. 12.184-191). At the same time as they sing his kleos, however, the sirens threaten the hero with invisible death and anonymity. In their narrative context, the sirens of the Odyssey bring invisible death through shipwreck and anonymity because their song is removed from the communities of living men. Like the birds on the

139

Graf 2003: 14. Graf 2003: 17-18. 141 Kubler 1970: 500, no. 106 and Plate 94. 140

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battlefield in the Iliad, sirens take the place of women singing the lament and would make the hero's death similarly invisible.142 After Odysseus overcomes the sirens, however, he carries his fame back to the communities of men where the laments of women established the identity of the dead in collective memory. Other female hybrids, the gorgons, are also associated with the heroic trial and song; Medousa does not appear in the Iliad or Odyssey. In an epinician ode beginning with the invocation of Akragas as the seat of Persephone (OepoEcpovas E'805, line 2), the Archaic poet Pindar gives an account of how the lament sung by Medousa's sisters at her death inspired Athena to invent a song for the flutes: . . . TExvt?, TOV TTOTE UaXKh% E96UPE Opaoeiav oi/Xiov Bpfivov Sia-iTX^aia' A8ctvcr TOV TrapGEviois OTTO T ' dnrXaxois 6
. . . an art, which Pallas Athena once invented by weaving the baneful dirge of the rash Gorgons that she heard poured from under the terrlb,e h e a d s o f t h e maidens> snakes in their tormented distress,

. . . dXX' ETTEI EK TOUTCOV cpiXov civBpa TTOVCOV

' ' ' T,

Eppuaaxo TrapSEVos auXdov TEOXE TTdM
• • •B u t a f t e r

r.

•1

,1

the malden rescued the dear m a n

f r o m t h e s e t0,ls

> s h e constructed a many-toned melody for the pipes so that she might imitate with instruments the keening lament coming (Pythian 12.6-10; 18-21, dated to 490 BC) from the eager jaws of Euryale.

Pindar's version of the trial, as well as the scene on the Eleusis Amphora (Figure 2.11), includes Athena in her capacity as the patron goddess of heroes. She is notably absent in some versions, however, such as the early account of Perseus' victory (minus Athena) given in Hesiod's Theogony, in which Chrysaor and Pegasos, sired by Poseidon, are born from Medousa's severed head (77?. 277-281). Athena is also a frequent companion of Herakles in the many Attic representations of his labors, and one cannot help but wonder

142

Chapter 1:67-68.

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if the heroic paradigm had special significance in Athens where Athena was also the patron goddess of the city. Like Pindar's account, the seventh-century amphora from Eleusis (Figure 2.11) places Athena in the scene as the patron goddess of heroes.143 The size and decoration of the Eleusis amphora suggest that it was created as a tomb marker, but it was ultimately used for the urn-burial (enchytrismos) of a 10-12 year old boy. Although urn-burial remained standard for children from the Early Iron Age through the Archaic period, the vessels were typically undecorated. The central scene on the Eleusis vase depicts the moment when Athena helps Perseus escape after he has beheaded Medousa, but the secondary zones of the vase are filled with heroic motifs as well. Odysseus blinds the Polyphemos on the neck of the vase, and a lion fights a boar on the shoulder, a motif associated with heroic victory through Homeric similes.144 Mylonas connected the "cauldron" heads of the gorgons on the vase to the use of masks in Archaic rites and concluded that "the evidence of our amphora disproves the theories of foreign derivation of the Gorgons and of the Gorgoneia, indicates a local origin for them, and gives Athens a predominant role in the early representation of the story and in the birth of the type."145 Langdon has focused on the evidence for gorgon masks and gorgoneia in sanctuaries throughout Greece "where votive assemblages suggest maturation ritual and kourotrophic cult" and has connected the gorgon-pursuit motif to the footrace as an initiatory trial.146 The funerary associations of the heroic trial created or elaborated by Pindar thus may 143

She is uncommonly depicted as Parthenos (maiden) in contrast to her Promachos (armed) guise which is much more common in sixth-century black-figure depictions of the goddess. 144 Markoe 1989. 145 Mylonas 1957: 124. 146 S. Langdon 2008: 110-111.

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ultimately derive from the use of the motif in funerary art in which it located the deceased in the social hierarchy through reference to the heroic paradigm and maturation rites. Heroic battles with disruptive monsters have also been seen as an extension of hunting trials with fierce animals, in which defeating the monster "symbolizes the proper categorization of the new social being and restoration of social order."147 Such associations undoubtedly would have been attractive to families interested in representing their members as guardians of public welfare and social order. The highly visible monuments constructed along main thoroughfares just outside the city would have been a constant reminder of the established social hierarchy and the families in the living community claiming to uphold it. Langdon sums up the iconographic value of monsters in the developing polis as "the dynamic use of tradition, of ancestral myths and cultural symbols in communal rituals, that makes possible the state's replication in changing historical circumstances."148 As with Late Geometric figural scenes, it is often difficult for modern viewers to reconstruct the associations contemporary viewers would have made. The heroic associations of these motifs, however, are clear, and a connection to male initiatory rites is likely. In the city whose patron goddess was also the patron of heroes, heroic motifs likely were associated with public maturation rituals for elite members of the community. Motifs invoking those rites were depicted on commemorative funerary objects through which the deceased was located within the gendered social hierarchy. The representation displayed in the monumental assemblage

S. Langdon 2008:123. S. Langdon 2008: 124.

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ultimately provided a visual reminder of the social roles and status claimed for the deceased by the burying group at the funeral.

Conclusion The succession of major developments in commemorative representation, particularly those observed in the Kerameikos cemetery in Athens, suggests that changes in the constituent elements of the monuments responded to the lack of specificity inherent in an earth mound that is recognized in the Homeric poems. The response began with a shift from commemorating the deceased with an elaborate collection of goods deposited in graves during the Early Iron Age to increasingly elaborate markers and supplemental objects placed above-ground. The grave architecture and goods interred with the deceased in burials from the Protogeometric through Middle Geometric periods in Attica have much in common with those described in the epic poems, most notably the earth mound. The poems thus provide insight into the commemorative strategies that were operative during the period in which they began to be written down. Both above-ground and below it, the deceased was represented through a collection of objects with conventional associations provided by ritual and analogy to the heroic paradigm of myth. Some associations of the objects remain obscure to modern viewers, but others (likely the main ones) may be elucidated through the thematic patterns shared by epic and the material culture of Attica. Common assemblages of objects representing the greatest commemorative expenditure in the burial record of Early Iron Age Athens are those associated with warriors and marriageable young women. The emphasis of these roles in

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funerary display was likely connected to the reinforcement of the gendered hierarchy and the value of these particular roles to the perpetuation of the community. Representation of social roles also provided a model for members of the burying group who would take over the vacated positions. The assemblage of objects representing the deceased was chosen—some objects may even have been commissioned—by the burying group to commemorate and claim particular social roles and status. The implication is that the social role(s) left vacant by the death would be filled by another of their number. With the advent of figural decoration, representations of personae were constructed through the associations of motifs on objects as much as through the associations of the objects themselves. Prothesis scenes on Late Geometric grave markers reinforce the signification of earth mounds by identifying them as funerary, and other motifs drawn from initiation rituals may have associated the deceased with specific social categories. Myth and social categorization came together in the sphere of maturation rites for boys for which heroic trials served as the model, and Orientalizing motifs entered the iconographic repertoire of funerary objects at the end of the eighth century to represent those trials. The decoration of commemorative objects with motifs that located the deceased within the social hierarchy provided an avenue for perpetuating memory of the deceased through above-ground display, which continued to be visible in the living community beyond the conclusion of the funeral. Vases generally lost their monumental proportions with the arrival of monuments sculpted in stone, but motifs drawn from ritual activity continued to supplement the personae commemorated in stone that will be taken up in the next chapter.

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Chapter 3 The Living Persona: Iconography, Social Ritual and Sculpture

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A cornerstone of this study is the existence of a recognizable connection between the iconography of commemorative objects and social rituals in Archaic Athens. By social ritual, I mean activities involving a formalized, traditional performance by one segment of the community that is witnessed by a larger audience of community members. These social rituals cannot easily be divided into modern conceptions of public and private or religious and profane, because such classifications of activity often operate differently in ancient Greek society: athletic games may both honor gods and glorify individuals; weddings may formalize political alliances as well as enable the perpetuation of families. Although the rites may not be initiatory in the anthropological sense,1 participation in the rituals is nonetheless closely connected to social classification and based on the gendered hierarchy of the city: different performative roles in the rites are allocated to young boys, men, young girls and women, and many rites mark points of transition in social personae. The traditional nature of the rituals makes them particularly useful as a source of iconographic motifs with conventional associations through reference to which individuals may be placed in various social roles in the community The traditional and formulaic nature of the primary iconographic motifs on funerary monuments has much in common with the "traditional referentiality"2 that provides the foundation for epic poetry. Foley draws on South Slavic oral tradition regarding the hero Ograscic Aliji and explains: Unlike characters in a novel, figures in many oral poetries live beyond the edge of any page and outside the covers of any book. Code-names like the six-syllable 'Chapter 2: 133-134. "The way of reading called Immanent Art thus seeks to open up traditional referentiality, to understand how the single instance resonates with implicit meaning" (J. Foley 2002: 117). 2

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formulaic phrase "Ograscic Aliji" not only get the hero identified in a systematic fashion; they also cue that individual's larger biography, (re)creating a presence beyond the orbit of any single performance or song.3 Many motifs incorporated into funerary monuments similarly "live beyond the edge of the stone" in the social existence of Greeks in Archaic Attica. The sight of a particular motif on a commemorative monument provokes a variety of associations for the spectator. His current context, other contexts in which he may commonly encounter the motif, and the oral tradition attached to the motif define the cultural matrix within which the motif is embedded. In the case of commemorative funerary objects, it is the association of certain iconographic motifs with the heroic paradigm and social rituals that makes them useful for locating the deceased within the gendered hierarchy of Archaic Attic society. The distinction between significant and primarily decorative motifs4 is often difficult to discern and can only be brought to light through the recognition of patterns of association. The central position of the prothesis scene on monumental Late Geometric pottery vases surveyed in the previous chapter, for instance, is consistent and has an unmistakable connection to the ritual the vessels commemorate. The significance of supplemental motifs such as the friezes of mourners, warriors, or chariots, in contrast, challenges interpretation, as the scholarly debate attests. The scenes may represent actual performances during the funeral, idealized performances that the burial group claims as what "should have" happened at the funeral, or heroized performances that invoke oral 3

J. Foley 2002: 118. In the case of Archaic Korinthian pottery, Shanks [1999: 75] argues against the idea of a purely decorative motif and suggests that "the indeterminate itself may also mean. Fluidity and indeterminacy may tie a scene to a collective assemblage (posing questions of reference and connection)." 4

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tradition as a paradigm. Every one of these options may be connected to the expression of social status. Given the archaeological evidence suggesting that the prothesis certainly was an element of contemporary funerary rites, it seems unlikely the remaining decoration on the vases is entirely superfluous decoration. The connection between iconography and ritual that we observe in the burial record of the Late Geometric period continues in the Archaic period and is not limited to funerary objects, although objects commemorating other types of social ritual frequently appear in funerary contexts as well. Two classes of vases in particular provide evidence for the use of decorative motifs to signal particular classifications within the social hierarchy: the so-called Panathenaic and "horse-head" amphorae. Neither class of pottery was specifically produced for funerary contexts, but the final destination of the vases was sometimes a grave.5 Panathenaic amphorae, moreover, were imitated in stone in later periods in order to be used as grave markers and votive dedications.6 I shall begin this examination of the connection between the motifs chosen for commemorative objects and social ritual with the Panathenaic amphorae, as they provide the fullest evidence for the commemorative significance of iconography. After establishing the practice in these two categories of vases, I shall move on to a discussion of contemporary sculpted funerary monuments, which, I shall argue, also make use of iconographic motifs with the express purpose of locating the deceased within the gendered hierarchy of the community.

5

Frel [1973] provides an account of the Panathenaic Amphoras discovered in the Athenian Kerameikos. Tiverios 2007: 18; Frel 1973. Knigge [1991: 162] and Goette [2001: 66] describe a marble Panathenaic amphora that was set on top of a tomb building in the Kerameikos ca. 400 B.C. 6

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The canonical inscription that appears on Panathenaic amphorae beginning in the middle-sixth century B.C. in fact is virtually redundant for these vessels with a consistent form and iconography in use throughout the long duration of their history. The amphorae themselves are relatively consistent in size and glossy black with the exception of a »

reserved panel on either side. For over 300 years, the 'front' panel shows an Athena Promachos (Athena armed and in battle stance) standing between two columns, each surmounted by a cock (Figure 3.1). The decoration of the reverse panel varies somewhat more in order to represent the event for which the object served as a prize. The traditional nature of these vases is in part indicated by the black-figure technique that is used for their decoration long after even the red-figure technique had fallen out of use.7 The iconography of the vases was not the creation of a single potter, painter or even workshop but of a sharply defined tradition that was repeated over time by different workshops.8 Among the obligatory motifs there was some room for variation and additional commemoration, particularly during the sixth century. Tiverios argues that the "great variety [of Athena's shield devices] in the first decades of the Panathenaic amphoras suggests that, until the end of the sixth century, such symbols can be associated with private citizens and very probably with the landed gentry."9 If he is correct, the shield device thus would have indicated who among the land-owning elites had produced the olive oil handed over to officials of the goddess to serve as the prizes. The same elite citizens who likely were responsible for many of the elaborate funerary monuments from 7

Beazley 1986:81. There is good evidence that competitions were held to determine the workshop that would be awarded the commission (Tiverios 2007: 17). The producer of the vases thus could have changed as often as the competition was held. 9 Tiverios 2007: 9. 8

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Athens and the Attic countryside during the Archaic period may have commemorated their service to Athena (and the polis) by dictating her shield device on these prize vessels. Commemoration thus occurs on various levels: the primary decorative zone, the front of the vase, indicates the general ritual context while the supplemental decoration, the reverse panel and Athena's shield device, specify the event and patron within the broader context of the festival. In much the same way as the central prothesis scene on Late Geometric vases indicates the funerary context while supplemental friezes specify persona in various ways, therefore, Panathenaic amphorae also incorporate traditional motifs in order to commemorate specific aspects of a prominent social ritual. Similar to the Panathenaic amphorae in decorative configuration, but including earlier examples dated to the end of the seventh century, are the horse-head amphorae (Figure 3.2).10 Like the Panathenaics, these vases typically are covered almost entirely in black slip and have a reserved panel on either side. The iconography of the horse-head amphorae, however, is even more restrictive, limited to a horse head in each panel, and sometimes a band of rays added around the base.11 There are over 100 examples by a variety of painters and workshops.12 Like the Panathenaic amphorae, therefore, the consistency of the horse-head motif cannot be attributed to a single workshop but must be the result of a commemorative tradition. Unlike Panathenaic amphorae, however, the horse-head amphorae come in a greater variety of sizes, ranging from ca. 20 cm in height

10

Lynch 2007: 178. The vases attributed to the 'Painter of the Taranto 20.248 horse-head' in Birchall's catalog both have rays around the base (Birchall 1972: 54). A single example with a human head on the reverse should be noted as well (Louvre E 822, Birchall 1972: 55). 12 Birchall 1972: 59. 11

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to over 50 cm.13 The greatest period of production for these vases seems to be the first half of the sixth century BC, and they cease to be produced at about the same time as large-scale equestrian statues, a uniquely Attic sculptural phenomenon, begin to be dedicated on the Akropolis and set up over graves.14 The restricted iconography of the vases marks them as traditional, and the motif may be a sort of commemorative precursor to the Archaic Attic equestrian sculptures and employed in the same contexts. The consistency of the motif in combination with the variety of workshops producing the vases suggests that these amphorae, like the Panathenaic variety, commemorate some specific event or circumstance. But the variety of sizes, in contrast to the Panathenaics, suggests that the horse-head amphorae were not designed to contain a specific amount of a particular substance. Likely candidates for the signification of the emblem are membership in the equestrian property class or perhaps participation in some type of equestrian competition. The traditional nature of the horse-head motif on these vases seems secure, even if its precise signification is not. The only horse-head amphora with a secure Attic funerary provenience comes from a grave in the Kerameikos in which the vase was used to contain the remains of a child (Figure 3.2),15 but Beazley hypothesized that some of the large ones may have been used as grave markers.16 Support for this proposition comes from the fact that a significant number of whole and

13

Agora, Athens, P 13385 and P 290 respectively (Birchall 1972: 54). Birchall 1972: 46; Eaverly 1995: 1. 15 Appendix 1: cat. no. 143, dated ca. 550 B.C. The child could not have won a horse race or been a member of the equestrian property class, but perhaps his (or her) father was. 16 Beazley 1986: 36. Like the Eleusis Amphora (Figure 2.11), the use of this vase to contain the remains of a child rather than serve as a grave marker is unusual. 14

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fragmentary horse-head amphorae have been found in the Classical Athenian Agora,17 some or all of which may have originated in grave assemblages. As Goody's work has shown and as can be traced in the funerary rituals described in the Homeric poems, one function of complex mortuary ritual is to document the transfer of the rights and social roles of the deceased to surviving members of the community.18 Distinctive iconography, as is illustrated by the Panathenaic amphorae (and likely horse-head amphorae as well), would be particularly useful in commemorative contexts because the motifs have a clear connection, through social ritual, to specific status and roles within the community. Tiverios, furthermore, points out that, "[t]he intrinsic value of these amphoras is attested by the existence of marble Panathenaics that served as grave markers or dedications."19 Dedication of a Panathenaic amphora at a sanctuary, for example, commemorates service to the deity, the status of victor, and the social role of athlete on the part of the dedicator. In a cemetery context, setting the amphora on a tomb would claim the same status and social role for the deceased. As we shall see, athlete status likely was not just a type of celebrity but also a type of classification for young men in service to the polis.20 Traditional motifs drawn from social ritual thus have a history of incorporation on commemorative objects in Attica.

17 Moore 1986: 102-103, nos. 13-23; Birchall 1986: 51, no. 6, Athens, Agora P 1248; 53, no. 5, Athens, Agora P 18528; 54, no. 10, Athens, Agora P 290 and no. 12, Athens, Agora P 13385; 57, no. 12, Athens, Agora P 12526; 58, no. 1, Athens, Agora P 26631; no. 5, Athens, Agora P 4217, and no. 16, Athens, Agora P 25352; 59, no. 18, Athens, Agora P 18529 and no. 19, Athens, Agora P 26636; 60, no. 24, Athens, Agora P26743. 18 Goody 1962: 44-46; Chapter 1: 48-49. 19 Tiverios 2007: 18 20 During the debate before the Sicilian Expedition in 415 B.C., Alkibiades cites as part of his qualifications to lead the expedition the seven chariots he entered in the Olympic games, which earned him first, second and fourth places in the chariot race (Thucydides 6.16). His claim of qualifications thus was not based on experience but on status, in part that conferred by victory at the Olympic games.

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When such objects are included in a funerary assemblage, they become a means of representing social roles vacated by the loss of a community member that must be taken over by survivors if the community is to perpetuate itself.

The Sculptural Evidence Though typically divided in the scholarship, early temple architecture and monumental sculpture are not entirely separate innovations in Archaic Greece. Temples constructed for the gods were in fact considered agalmata (delightful gifts), just as votive sculptures were.21 Limestone temples and stelai, furthermore, are often finished in the same way with the addition of painted plaster.22 Temples and sculpture also make use of the same raw materials—wood, limestone and marble—and therefore the same tools and techniques as well. Early advances in monumental architecture generally have been attributed to Corinth, where limestone is plentiful and woodworking a well-developed craft thanks to her Archaic shipbuilding industry.23 In Corinth, "[t]hey soon discovered that the poros limestone could be worked with the same tools and techniques as those employed for wood, and that it could even be used for similar purposes in contexts normally reserved for wood."24 In spite of Corinth's early use of limestone in the construction of temples, however, the genesis of monumental Greek sculpture in marble

21

Burkert 1988: 44. Plastered and painted fragments from wall panels of the Archaic limestone temple of Poseidon have been found at Isthmia (Broneer 1971: 33-34). 23 Rhodes 2003: 85. 24 Rhodes 2003: 85. 22

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is generally attributed to the islands, where Ridgway sees the influence of woodworking techniques in the so-called "Daedalic style" as well.25 Marble construction largely replaces limestone in the case of both monumental architecture and sculpture in sixth-century Attica, the origin of which generally has been attributed to Naxos and Samos where the earliest examples have been found.26 Both the presence of foreign marble and foreign sculptor signatures on early marble monuments suggest that the raw material and early sculptors of marble may have arrived in Attica together from the islands in the course of the later seventh century B.C.27 It also suggests that Athens initially imported its marble, until Mt. Pentelikon was established as a local source ca. 550 B.C.28 Marble is more durable than limestone, well-suited to the application of colored pigments and likely was prized for its luminous surface as well, which may account for its ultimately greater popularity in Attica.29 But this does not mean that all limestone sculptures are always earlier than those of marble. A limestone kouros discovered at Isthmia has been dated to the middle of the sixth century by Ridgway, who argues that choice of material is a result of preference on the part of artists rather than the availability of marble.30 Foreign craftsmen had a presence in Attica throughout the Archaic period and may have continued to influence the choice of materials and training of Attic artists. 25

Ridgway 1993:29. Stewart, 1990:2. 27 Aristion of Paros, for example, signed several funerary statue bases: IG I3 1208,1261, and his signature has been reconstructed for 1211 and 1269 . 28 Stewart, 1990: 3. 29 Color was valued in Greek art, and some colors may have been associated with specific characteristics (Stewart 1990:40-41). In addition, Ridgway [1993:238] notes that stelai generally were given red backgrounds in contrast to the blue backgrounds of architectural sculpture on temples. 30 Ridgway 1975:427. 26

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The earliest examples of funerary stelai in Athens include examples constructed from a variety of stones. Preserved in situ in the Kerameikos was the lower portion of a slate stele still fixed in its limestone base that had been sunk into the top of Mound A. The stele was dated by Kiibler to ca. 630 B.C. based on archaeological context, and no decoration or inscription was preserved.3 Another early example, the marble stele of Keramo, was discovered in the vicinity of Hadrian's Gate in Athens. It carries both relief decoration and an inscription, and Jeffery assigned roughly the same date for it as Kissas has for the stele in the Kerameikos.32 These two examples reveal the difficulty of assigning either an absolute or relative chronology to these early stone monuments based on material, and Ridgway, in response to Richter's overly tidy chronology,33 has argued that variations in both subject and form of Archaic stelai "should be interpreted not as the predecessors of the inscribed variety but as concomitant though perhaps slightly unusual variations."34 While some stelai were decorated with animals (Figure 3.3b) or inscribed linear patterns (Figure 3.4), and some monuments carved in the round took the shape of an animal (Figure 3.5), the vast majority of funerary sculptures feature an individual, occasionally more than one, in the prime of life.35 The most notable of the early canonical

Appendix 1: cat. no. 12; Kissas [2000: 36, Al] dates the stele ca. 650 B.C. IG I3 1194; Epigraphical Museum, Athens, no. 10646; Jeffery 1962: 129, no. 22. It should be noted, however, that Immerwahr [1990: 23, no. 79] prefers a date in the early sixth century B.C. based on the letter forms and argues that the writing arranged in relation to the relief figures makes the inscription more like dipinti on vases. 33 Richterl944. 34 Ridgway 1993:235. 35 Archaic Attic stelai with multiple figures include: the seated woman and child (National Museum, Athens, no. 4472, Jeffery 1967:145, no. 2); the 'Brother and Sister' stele (Metropolitan Museum, New York; Richter 1944: no. 73); stele of Agathon and Aristokrates (National Museum, Athens, no. 32; Richter 1944: no. 96) and possibly the stele of Keramo (Ridgway, 1993: 235; Jeffery 1962: 129 no. 22). 32

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stelai is likely a limestone one displaying a nude man with a sword and staff or spear carved in relief in the central decorative panel (Figure 3.6). The upper portion of the stele was discovered on a paved area on the southwest part of Tumulus G in the Kerameikos, and the lower portion west of the tumulus. The stele was dated to the middle of the sixth century by Kubler, who later argued that the stele was the grave monument of Solon.36 Knigge, however, recently has reexamined the fragments along with their context of discovery. She argues that the stele should be joined with a fragmentary inscribed base and that it commemorates the Olympian victor, Alkmeon, son of the Megakles (I) to whom the action resulting in the exile of the Alkmeonid clan has been attributed in the literary sources, along with Alkmeon's son Megakles (II).37 In addition to reconstruction of the inscription, her argument is based in part on reevaluating the literary evidence and iconography on which Kubler based his attribution, in part on assigning the fragments to the grave precinct of the Alkmeonid clan, and in part on the transfer of the limestone stele to a new marble base. Much of Knigge's argument is attractive. The literary evidence about Solon's life all comes from late sources, and a sixth-century limestone stele is unlikely to have remained standing through the Persian sack of Athens in 479 B.C., the subsequent construction of the so-called "Themistoklean" city wall, and the later upheavals of the

36

Kttbler 1976: 12-16. Knigge 2006: 142; IG I3 1213; Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. I 332; Kissas 2000: 48-50, A16. It should be noted that the inscription is severely damaged, and reconstruction of the names is speculative. The Alkmeonid exile is the result of the so-called "Kylonian" conspiracy described by Herodotos (5.71), Thucydides (1.126), and Plutarch {Solon 12). 37

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Peloponnesian War to be seen by later authors.

Knigge highlights the difficulty of

interpreting the iconography of a monument such as this, which lacks clear sculptural parallels. She ultimately invokes later vase-painting parallels and concludes that the figure represents a cursed exile like Oidipous.39 But it is difficult to imagine how the Alkmeonid clan would benefit from commemorating their connection to the curse and exile. Rosalind Thomas, in her discussion of the family defense given in Isokrates (16.25), has demonstrated that, by the Classical period at least, the family seems to have avoided mention of Megakles. She concludes that they "probably 'forgot' him in order to suppress memory of the curse."40 A more attractive interpretation is that the iconography invokes the heroic paradigm of Oidipous as slayer of the Sphinx and protector of the city, which neither precludes nor confirms the image as a reference to an Alkmeonid clan member. Knigge sets out reasonable grounds as well for connecting graves in the vicinity to the Alkmeonid family. It is also possible that an older limestone stele would have been transferred to a new marble base as Knigge proposes.41 But the post-destruction separation of the limestone stele, the fragments of which were discovered at the edges of Tumulus G, is some distance from the marble base that was built into the Dipylon Gate. Why would the base have been used in the construction of the wall but not the stele? NM 2687 (Figure 3.7) provides just one example of a stele that was built into the wall. The

38

Kiibler [1973: 190] cites the account of a monument for Solon in Athens given by the Roman author Aelian (Varia Historia, 8.16), who purportedly derived his information from Phainias, a student of Aristotle. 39 Knigge 2006: 136-140. 40 Thomas 1989:131. 41 Knigge 2006: 147.

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fact that the stele was instead discovered at the edges of Tumulus G suggests that it may have been buried during the "democratization" phase of the Kerameikos at the end of the sixth century, when large quantities of earth were brought in to bury both Tumulus G and the nearby Siidhugel.42 The identification and reconstruction of this multi-part gravestone illustrates the central problem with any consideration of the stone markers as part of a commemorative assemblage, namely that they can only on rare occasions be connected to a specific grave. Even more so than in the case of monumental vases used as grave markers, lack of original context has thwarted the study of funerary sculpture from the beginning and may in part account for the early scholarly focus on categorization that was largely independent of archaeological context.44 In addition to the sculptures suffering from pillaging by grave robbers and haphazard documentation of their discovery in modern times, many sculpted monuments from Attic cemeteries had already been displaced from their original context in antiquity. As already mentioned, many of the extant works from Athens itself survive because they were built into the foundations of the city wall that was hastily erected in 479 B.C. after the Persians had sacked the city.45 The statue bases and stelai in particular provided a convenient source of appropriately-shaped building material. Many scholars thus have worked under the assumption that the monuments 42

Knigge 1991: 32 and 2006: 153-154. There are only two examples (Kissas 2000: 32); both are in the Kerameikos (Appendix 1: cat. nos. 12 and 16). Only a small fragment of the stele still attached to the base is preserved in each case, and neither has any decoration or an inscription preserved. 44 Furtwangler [1964/1895] started off atrend in attribution studies. Richter [1970/1942; 1944 and 1988/1968], in contrast, produced several influential handbooks arranging known sculptures into a relative chronology based on stylistic features for each major genre. Stewart [1990: 29-32] gives a detailed survey of the scholarship on Greek sculpture beginning with when it was first distinguished from Roman sculpture in the eighteenth century. 45 Thucydidesl.93. 43

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originated in the cemetery nearest to their location of discovery. Archaeological context for funerary monuments discovered in Athens as a result typically has been limited to a pre-Themistoklean date and a particular cemetery. The monuments found in the Attic countryside generally have not fared much better. Among the rare examples of a grave statue that has been reunited with its inscribed base, the so-called Kroisos kouros (Figure 3.8) is instructive concerning the fate of monuments discovered in modern times and the resulting uncertainty about their provenance.46 The kouros itself, after being cut into pieces and smuggled out of the country, was recovered in Paris where it had been transported for sale. The base remained in the Attic countryside, but was discovered through the attempt to sell it to the American School of Classical Studies in Athens.47 Itsfind-spot,thought to be the cemetery at Anavyssos, thus remains a matter of hearsay. As with the monuments built into the Themistoklean city wall, the assumption is that the monuments discovered in the countryside originally were located in the nearest cemetery. The kore for Phrasikleia and its companion kouros, though carefully buried together at the edge of the ancient cemetery at Merenda in antiquity, also cannot be associated with particular graves.48 There are only two stelai bases in the Kerameikos, each with only a small fragment of the stele remaining, which have been discovered in their original context on

46

Mastrokostas 1974; Karusos 1961: A18; Kissas 2000: A20; IG i31240. This monument and the monument for Phrasikleia will be discussed in detail in Chapter 4. 47 Stieber [2005/2006: 27-32] gives a summary of the various accounts about the discovery, attempted sale and reunification of the statue and its base. 48 Phrasiklea kore and base: National Museum, Athens, no. 4889 (Mastrokostas 1972; Karusos 1961: A15; Kissas 2000: A14; Kaltsas 2002: 48-49; IG i3 1261). Kouros found with the Phrasiklea kore: National Museum, Athens, no. 4890 (Mastrokostas 1972; Kaltsas 2002:49).

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top of grave mounds. Too little of the monuments remain, however, to determine if the stelai had originally been decorated or carried an inscription to identify the deceased. There is also a single kore base that has been found in its original context at the edge of a disturbed tumulus containing multiple burials, one thought to be for a woman, in Vourva. In no case, therefore, can a complete examination of remains, grave goods and sculptural monument be made to determine correlations between the elements of the grave assemblage. Information about the deceased whom the assemblage commemorated, and how the monument was situated in relation to others nearby, therefore, is thin. As a result, I shall examine patterns evident in the surviving tombstones first, as it is my contention that these provide the primary indicator of persona, and defer discussion of supplemental goods to the next chapter. The major generic classifications (gender, age groups, and identifiable social roles) will provide the points of contact between the disparate categories of evidence. The gravestones often are complemented with separable bases that may carry additional sculpture in relief or an inscribed epitaph. In this regard Attic practice differs from that of other regions in Greece, where inscriptions tend to be placed on the statue itself.51 Although sculpture and inscribed base have been separated in the archaeological context in almost every case, the point of attachment on the base for the sculpture frequently indicates the type of sculpture that the base originally had supported (kouros/kore, equestrian, stele, and whether stone or bronze). The disparate pieces, 49

Kubler 1976: 561, nos. 2-3; Kissas 2000:32 and 37-38, A1-A2; Jeffery 1962:123, stelai nos. 1-2. Kissas 2000:32 and 46-47, A13; Jeffery 1962: 137, no. 44. 51 Jeffery and Johnston 1990: 73-74. Kissas [2000: 11-29] divides the bases into five main types: block, round, stepped, pillar and column. 50

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therefore, can nonetheless provide useful information regarding patterns of iconography. Such patterns in turn provide a context into which the more complete examples can be placed.

Documenting Collective Memory in Stone Rough stone slabs have been found marking graves in conjunction with monumental pottery as far back as the Protogeometric in the Kerameikos (Figure 2.1). Relief stelai are attested in Mycenae even in the Bronze Age,52 but it is not until the late seventh century B.C. that we see the transformation of stone into an additional medium for figural representation in Attica. The stone monuments incorporate many of the same motifs as contemporary vase painting and often can be similarly divided into primary and secondary decorative zones. The primary zone is occupied by the sculpture in the round or the central figure on a stele. Secondary zones are provided by the sculpture base or by the capitals and praedellae of stelai. Pottery, perhaps adhering to the tradition begun in the Late Geometric period, continues to represent the deceased as a corpse in prothesis scenes. Stone monuments, in contrast, represent only living figures. The vocabulary used to describe markers in the two media, however, is the same: sema appears on both painted funerary pottery and in the inscriptions accompanying gravestones.53 In spite of

52

Mylonas 1948: 71 and 1951; Gallou 2005: 123. The Areios plaque (to be discussed in Chapter 4) carries the dipinto: "—vo$ i oipa T 6 5 ' EOTI = ApEio" ( -nos, this is the marker of Areios), and the epitaph for Lyseas reads: "AI/DEOU EV8OC8E OE-| ua TTCCTEP 2EHOV 3 E- |TTE6EKEV" (His father Semon set up the marker for Lyseas here. IG I 1257). Sema has been read or reasonably reconstructed in 30 of the nearly 100 private sepulchral inscriptions listed in IG I3 dated to ca. 500 B.C. or earlier: 1196, 1197, 1200,1203bis, 1204, 1205, 1206,1210, 1211, 1212, 1214,1215, 1219, 1227, 1231,1236, 1240, 1242, 1243, 1248, 1255,1257, 1259,1260, 1261,1263, 1265, 1266, 1273bis, and 1344. 53

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bearing the same label, stone monuments—when depicting a human figure—represent the social persona of the deceased at the pinnacle of life, whereas vases only represent the deceased as a corpse at a glorious funeral. As Hurwit elucidates by comparing the modes of thought expressed in Archaic literature with trends in the visual arts, it was not so much the desire to represent an individual in a naturalistic fashion, but rather an interest in ordering nature and creating 'legible' images that drove the Archaic artist.54 The choice to depict a living individual on a commemorative monument thus was desirable, not because of any need to produce a likeness of the deceased as he or she existed in life, but rather because a living representation carried with it a greater likelihood of representing clear markers of persona. Gender can be immediately understood from a living representation, and attributes and subsidiary decoration provide additional opportunities to communicate particular qualities of the deceased.55 A living individual can ride a horse, wear the armor of a soldier or the robe of a priest. Corpses, as is evident from the vase paintings, are instead carried in wagons and typically wear a shroud. The pattern of representing the deceased differently in different media begs the question of why a distinction based on media so frequently seems to exist. The answer may lie in the traditional associations with different aspects of funerary commemoration.

54

"The schema or stock image excludes the atypical and thus seeks to give manageable shape to the endless complexity and irregularity of natural forms" (Hurwit 1985: 18). On the legibility of Archaic art, see Hurwit 1985: 28. Stewart [1990: 110] similarly has observed an interest in patterning and representing cultural ideals in Archaic sculpture. 55 Some scholars have suggested that the "Midas Epitaph" (Greek Anthology 7.153) may indicate that a kore could stand on a man's tomb, but Raubitschek [1968: 13] has plausibly suggested that the 'bronze maiden' should in fact be taken as a sphinx, based on the marble examples that frequently topped Attic stelai(cf. Stewart 1990: 109).

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During the funeral, the persona of the deceased would have been represented directly through display of the corpse and singing the lament and indirectly through symbolic associations created by the display of grave goods. The primary zone of the monument communicates the main social roles that had been occupied by the deceased. The representation would reinforce the oral identification that had been given in the lament. As the analysis of the lament for Hektor in Chapter 1 suggests, a key component of the lament is the direct address to the deceased by his closest female relations.56 Each woman, Andromache, Hecuba and Helen, begins by addressing Hektor by name, then each specifies her relationship to him. Through the ritualized song, therefore, the primary elements of Hektor's persona—husband, father, royal son and brother-in-law—are declared before the assembled community witnessing the funeral. Supplemental objects, such as grave goods, visually reinforce the verbal account. The purple robes in which Hektor's bones were wrapped, for example, underscore his royal status (//. 24.796). On the monumental vases in the Late Geometric period, pride of place was given to the prothesis scene at which mourners would have performed the lament. Secondary motifs on the vase, such as chariot and warrior friezes or ship scenes, may reflect other aspects of the funeral or the status and social roles claimed by the burying group.57 As discussed in the previous chapter, the display of multiple vases on tombs becomes increasingly common over the course of the seventh century, and secondary motifs come to include increasingly elaborate representations of heroic victory, wild animal and

Chapter 1: 78-82 and Alexiou 2002: 131-133. Chapter 2: 118-119.

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mythological monsters. If the "visit to the tomb" scenes depicted on fifth-century white lekythoi represent a continuation of earlier practices, vases continue to be set up on tombs even after the innovation of stone monuments (Figure 3.9).59 The correlation between the manner in which the deceased is represented and the representational medium may be connected to the ritual function of the objects. Certain types of pottery, as we shall see in the next chapter, are limited to commemorating the ritual acts of mourners. Monster motifs in the secondary zones of stone monuments and on other types of pottery added to the commemorative assemblage may instead commemorate the persona of the deceased through motifs connected to the heroic paradigm and particularly invoked in rituals marking the different life stages of boys in particular.60 Through her examination of such iconography and its contexts in the Geometric period, Langdon argues that there is no simple signification of these motifs, but rather patterns of association with the various social institutions that define individuals within the larger community.61 As will become clear through the examination of extant examples of stone monuments, the same monster and hero motifs that become increasingly common on funerary pottery during the seventh century are incorporated as secondary motifs on the later stone monuments for men. The inclusion of these motifs in the subsidiary zones of decoration suggests that they were meant to specify the generic central representation of the stele or kouros by associating the figure with particular social rituals.

58

Chapter 2: 124-125. The number and frequency of grave offerings fluctuates over time, but in the Kerameikos pottery was placed in the offering ditches and on top of built tomb structures as well as in graves during the Archaic period (Knigge 1991: 25-27). 60 S. Langdon 2008: 66; Hoffman 1994; Tsiafakis 2003: 81. 61 S. Langdon 2008: 33. 59

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The Institutionalization of Funerary Commemoration As in the Late Geometric period, the location of a funerary monument in close proximity to the living community contributes to its effectiveness as a vehicle for perpetuating collective memory. Placement along a road leading into and out of the city makes the reminder continuously visible to members of the larger community and available as a focus for ritual visits to the tomb made by family members. These secondary performances at the tomb renew the connection between the living and dead through repeated public display.62 Multiple aspects of commemoration thus are operative at the same time. The monument is a reminder for passersby of the social roles claimed for the deceased through its formulaic iconography, and it is a focus for the burying group to display their connections to the deceased through performative rituals after the funeral is over and the corpse is no longer available for viewing. Both aspects, furthermore, may have been the target of legislation at various points in the history of Athens, a phenomenon that attests to the authority these monuments may have possessed. Sumptuary legislation instituted by Solon in 594/3 B.C. often has been cited as motivation for apparent gaps and stylistic changes in the sculptural record, and for the introduction of less expensive monument forms. The only law which specifically restricts the construction of monuments, however, is the one described by Cicero as having been implemented sometime after Solon, the co-called "post-aliquanto" law: Sedpost aliquanto propter has amplitudines sepulchorum, quas in Ceramico videmus, lege

But some time afterward, on account of the massiveness of the tombs which we see in the

62

For an overview of the evidence for ritual visits to the tomb and its importance in Athenian society, see Garland 2001: 104-108.

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sanctum est, ne quis sepulchrum faceret operiosus Kerameikos, it was established by law that no one quam quod decern homines effecerint triduo; neque might construct a tomb that was made with more id opere tectorio exonari, nee hermas, quos vacant, labor than ten men could accomplish over three licebat imponi, nee de mortui laude nisi publicis days. It was not permitted to embellish it with sepulturis nee ab alio, nisi qui publice ad earn rem plaster, nor what they call herms to be set up. constitutus esset, dici licebat. Sublata etiam erat Speaking with praise about the dead was not celebritas virorum ac mulierum, quo lamentatio permitted except at public funerals, and not by minueretur; auget enim luctum concursus hominum anyone except he who had been publicly appointed (Cicero, De Legibus 11.64-65). to the task. Furthermore, gatherings of men and women had been abolished in order that mourning might be decreased; for an assembly of men increases grief.

It is this legislation that is cited by Richter and Boardman as motivating a decline in funerary ostentation ca. 530 B.C. and prompting the change from series to single terracotta funerary plaque production and a stylistic change from elaborate stelai topped with sculpture in the round to a simpler form topped by palmette finials.63 Jerrie Brooklyn denies influence of the law on these perceived phenomena but not a decline in funerary ostentation in the final quarter of the sixth century; he alternatively suggests that birth and death taxes, said to have been instituted by Hippias, and the Persian Wars may have resulted in a decline in the production of sculpture.64 The evidence for any decline ca. 530 or 500 B.C., however, has been reexamined. Ridgeway has revised Richter's stylistic analysis and dating of stele forms in order to incorporate more recent evidence and concludes that the simpler forms, which Richter dated after 530 B.C., were present at an earlier date alongside the elaborate forms.65 An earlier gap has been perceived from the early sixth century down to ca. 570 B.C., but new discoveries and more recent studies have gone some distance towards 63

Richter 1944: 90-91; Boardman 1955: 53. Brooklyn 1981: 59-60, 141-142; cf. Aristotle, Economics 1347.a.l6 65 Richter 1944: 91; Ridgway 1993: 232-236. 64

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filling out the chronological sequence. Evelyn Harrison, who focused on Athenian material and gave greater attention to the relationship between evidence from the Akropolis and Agora, has challenged the notion of a "break" in the production of largescale Attic sculpture at the beginning of the sixth century proposed by Richter.66 Harrison suggests that some of the Sounion kouroi group67 should be dated after 600 B.C., a proposition, which she bases on the affiliation of some of the group with architectural sculpture that appears contemporary on a stylistic basis but had been dated much later by other scholars. Additional Archaic sculptural works discovered in the roadbed of the Sacred Gate, including a kouros displaying features strikingly similar to the so-called 'Dipylon Head', have expanded the catalog of early Attic sculpture.68 Not long after Solon's archonship is the period (ca. 575-500 B.C.) to which the overwhelming majority of Archaic kouroi, korai and stelai traditionally have been dated by Richter.69 Consensus regarding a gap at the beginning of the sixth century, however, has yet to emerge, and many scholars continue to acknowledge some influence of Solonian legislation on the production of large-scale sculpture.70 This particular law also has been connected to the disappearance of Archaic tombstone forms at the end of the sixth century before tombstones in the Classical style appear. David Small, however, makes the important observation that the Kerameikos is a

Harrison [1965: 3-4] cites in particular the dating of Akropolis lion-and-bull groups and a lioness found in the Agora. 67 Richter [1970: 30-58] defined the "Sounion Group" as not only the sculptures found at Sounion, but all other kouroi that she judged to be similarly early. 68 Niemeier2007. 69 Richter 1944, 1968 and 1970. 70 Stewart 1990: 119; Hurwit 1985: 219, f.n. 19.

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71

"standing monument cemetery," which has important implications with regard to the effect that restrictive legislation has on it: "in standing monument cemeteries sumptuary restriction creates a distinction between those with already erected elaborate monuments and those who are now denied the privilege.''''12 Such legislation would not cause the removal of existing monuments, but rather would promote the use of less expensive forms. There is good evidence, however, that substantial investments continued to be made at the end of the sixth century. Karen Stears, fusing the sculptural and epigraphic sources, points to the fairly recent discovery of a high-quality kouros head in the Kerameikos dated ca. 500-480 B.C.73 and "45 inscribed sepulchral monuments possibly dated between c. 510-c. 480 listed in IG I3" in order to support the conclusion that the production of expensive grave markers continued in Athens throughout the period of the Persian Wars.74 The construction of two large mounds in the Kerameikos during the sixth century similarly led Knigge to conclude that no funerary legislation had a perceptible effect on the construction of funerary monuments at the end of the Archaic period.75 Morris has also argued against making a connection between the law and changes observed in the burial record.76 Stears, in contrast, follows Thomas77 and locates the post aliquanto

71

"Standing monument cemeteries are contexts of aggregated monuments, deposited over a span of time, and they incorporate inherent features that offer prospects for social negotiations that are markedly different from cemeteries without permanent markers" (Small 1995: 150). 72 D. Small 1995: 159 (emphasis in original). 73 cf. Knigge 1983. 74 Stears 2000: 29. 75 Knigge 1991: 29. 76 1. Morris 1994: 89, n. 43. 77 Thomas 1989: 207.

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legislation ca. 479 B.C. based on the reference to public funerary speeches, which Dionysius of Halicarnassus (V.17.4) and Diodorus Sicculus (XI.33.3) claim were introduced either after one of the major battles or the conclusion of the Persian Wars. Her final estimation is that the law did produce the disappearance of Archaic funerary monuments, but that the gap should be shifted and shortened to the second quarter of the fifth century.79 Although no legal restrictions on the construction of monuments can be attributed to the Archaic period, the Solonian legislation as described by [Demosthenes] and Plutarch does appear to have set limits on the performative aspect of funerary rites.80 Little is known about the precise nature of Athenian tomb cult at such an early date, but the restrictions on visiting tombs attributed to Solon by Plutarch (Solon 21.6) suggest that rites performed at the tomb were just as closely connected to political concerns in the Archaic period as they would be in the Classical period.81 Seaford and Small both see the restrictions on performance as an effort to suppress conflict among aristocratic elites.82 Regulation of funerary display may also have been the aim of institutionalizing ritual

Cicero De Legibus 11.65. The restriction of praise of the dead to public funerals (nisi inpublicis sepulturis) is generally taken as referring to public funeral speeches like the one given by Perikles in Thucydides 2.35-46 (Dyke 2004: 416-417). 79 Stears 2000: 53-54. 80 The law given in [Demosthenes] 43.62-63 sets limits on the duration of prothesis, the time of day for the ekphora, and which female relatives may participate in the funerary rites. The legislation described in Plutarch (Solon 21) also primarily restricts the public actions of women: lacerating oneself, visiting tombs of other families, though it also prohibits expensive sacrifice and depositing an excessive amount of clothing with the deceased. 81 As Aristotle and the speeches of the orators make clear, proper performance of family funerary rites was part of the evidence used to determine suitability for public office and settle inheritance disputes in the Classical period (Aristotle, Ath. Pol. 55.3; Isaios 2.10 and 6.65). 82 Seaford 1994: 78-79; D. Small 1995: 166

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visits to the tomb in the form of a public Genesia festival at Athens, if Felix Jacoby is correct that the festival was originally a private celebration of an ancestor held on the anniversary of their death but was transformed into an annual public festival by Solon.84 The potential effect of legislation on funerary commemoration continues to be a subject of debate, but the restrictions attributed to Solon seem to have been focused on limiting the performances of mourners rather than on the construction of monuments.85 If restrictions on the performative practices of commemoration were in fact occurring ca. 594/3 B.C. at the time of Solon's archonship, they may have produced a social climate receptive to alternative methods of commemorative display such as would be afforded by stone monuments. Sculptural monuments would have perpetuated memory of the deceased in the community through visual display, even when the public performances of female relatives were restricted. Whatever the details and frequency of ritual visits to the tomb may have been, the monument would have "stood in" for the deceased in the form of representing his or her persona in rites that would transfer vacated social roles to survivors. Rituals performed in the presence of this 'stand-in' after the funeral would reinforce collective memory of the transfer. The common knowledge of familial ties created and renewed through ritual display, including but not limited to funerary rites, would have been particularly important for women and children who did not participate in polis institutions to the same degree that men did. Participation in a variety of social and political institutions— 83

Herodotos 4.26 is the earliest mention in the literary sources. See Capter 2: 95, n. 26. Jacoby 1944 85 [Demosthenes] (43.62-63) and Plutarch (Solon 21) both specify restrictions on the actions of mourning women. 84

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athletics, ephebe rituals, political assemblies, business transactions and war, just to name a few—all made the identity of men common knowledge among their peers in the living community, that is to say established in collective memory. These avenues for establishing identity in the common knowledge of the community were almost entirely closed to women and young children. Funerary rites, however, were not closed to women and children. Homer, the iconography of funerary vases, and literary accounts of Archaic legislation, all suggest that both women and children had prominent roles in the ritual performances at the tomb. The monuments, by standing in for the deceased, allow the living to declare their identity in relation to the dead. The living inherit their social roles, and the formulaic representation of those roles in the monument allowed the transfer effected through ritual to be documented in lasting visual display. Formalized representations of persona constructed through archetypes and motifs derived from initiation rituals make the stone monument an effective vehicle for documenting the redistribution of rights and responsibilities that is necessary in order to maintain social institutions in spite of the regular loss of constituent members of the community.86

The Value of the Generic Type Stone funerary monuments from Archaic Attica fall into two broad categories: large-scale sculpture in the round and stelai with inscribed, painted or low-relief decoration. Kouroi, korai, equestrian statues and lions are the primary thematic divisions 86

See Chapter 2:110-111 regarding the effectiveness of visual representations for transmitting collective memory.

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of free-standing sculpture used as funerary monuments, and these same sculpture types are found as votive offerings in sanctuaries.87 The dual-purpose nature of free-standing sculpture has suggested to some scholars that funerary monuments may have had a votive aspect as well, and the issue continues as a subject of debate.88 Sourvinou-Inwood has been critical of D'Onofrio's suggestion that funerary monuments and votive statues are both offerings {anathema) and supported D'Onofrio's shifted emphasis, in a later article, that regarded funerary monuments as a vehicle designed to perpetuate the memory of the deceased.89 The same generic types find application in both contexts, but the inscriptional evidence generally supports Sourvinou-Inwood's emphasis on perpetuation of memory through the use of differentiating vocabulary that ties the sculpture to each context. While the same verb (frequently tithemi or anatithemi) is used both of setting up a grave marker and dedicating a votive statue, the designation applied to the monument itself is different in each context. As is the case in the Homeric poems, the most common term for a funerary monument in Archaic epitaphs is sema. The standard term for a statue in votive inscriptions, in contrast, is agalma, something intended to delight the (divine) recipient, a term that does not appear in Attic funerary inscriptions.90 A hint as to why the same statue types are suitable in both contexts may be found in the fact that another term, mnema (literally 'reminder') is used of sculptures in both contexts, like the generic

Stelai also can be found in both contexts, but the funerary type in Archaic Attica is generally distinctive in form (Stewart 1986: 59, n. 25). 88 Karusos 1961: 28-30; D'Onofrio 1982. 89 Sourvinou-Inwood 1996:144; cf. D'Onofrio 1982 and 1988. 90 None of the private sepulchral inscriptions listed in IG I3 dated to ca. 500 B.C. or earlier identify the monument as an agalma. In Homer, agalma can be applied to votive offerings, sacrificial victims or personal ornaments (Autenrieth and Keep 1979).

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themes of the monuments. Mnema is not used of funerary monuments in Homer, but begins appearing as a synonym for sema in Attic funerary inscriptions during the Archaic period.92 SourvinouInwood reasonably connects the use of mnema for gravestones to an increased interest in perpetuating the memory of the deceased.93 Finding mnema, but not agalma or sema, common to both contexts suggests that the two distinct functions of free-standing sculptures, funerary and votive, overlap only in their commemorative aspect. Just as the funerary monument provides a perpetual reminder of the deceased specified in the inscription, a votive statue is a perpetual reminder of the service (providing an agalma) that was performed by the dedicator for the god. In both contexts, the statues provide an opportunity for the public display of social roles and status. A funerary monument, however, is more likely to 'impersonate' the object of commemoration, since its primary purpose is to document collective memory of a community member rather than to please a god. The primary purpose of a votive monument, in contrast, is to gratify the divinity in support of the reciprocal relationship

91

An Archaic funerary example of mnema equated to sema is given by IG I31266, dated ca. 530 B.C.: "oi|ja T68E : KuAov : Trai5oi ETT£9EKEV : 8avoToi : / nina
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between dedicator and god. Votive monuments, therefore, tend to take whatever form is deemed pleasing to the god. According to Stewart, however, they can additionally be a claim of status on the part of the dedicator by virtue of their beauty alone: [I]n a sexist society a pretty woman (wife or daughter), decked in all her finery, is the prime ornament of the man of the house, and so is presumed to delight the gods too—particularly Athena, guardian of the city and worshipped in guises ranging from virgin (Parthenos) to mistress of crafts (Ergane), including weaving and embroidery.95 The beauty of korai made them agalmata, and the display of technical skill in their production as well as the allusion to the art of weaving inherent in their clothing likely are among the qualities that made these sculptures of young women particularly suitable offerings to Athena.96 For a male dedicator, therefore, offering a kore would not represent his persona directly, but rather exhibit his devotion to the patron goddess of the city and his possession of the wealth necessary to make an elaborate offering. There were apparently some occasions when a votive statue could also be a more literal representation of a dedicator. In addition to korai, equestrian statues are numerous among the large-scale dedications on the Akropolis from the Archaic period.97 While attitudes expressed in later literary sources cannot be applied to earlier periods without question, an example given by Aristotle supports the possibility that the iconography of a statue could be used to make a claim about the status of the dedicator. He says that a

For the votive offering as part of the gift exchange through which men interact with the gods, see (Burkert 1985: 68-70). 95 Stewart 1990: 123. 96 In her study on the votive statues from the Akropolis, Keesling [2003: 122-124] has concluded that the statues may represent either devotees or goddesses, as the extended-arm gesture was common for cult statues in the Late Archaic period. 97 Eaverly [1995] identifies 11 statues (nos. 1,2,4, 6-10, and 12-14) in her catalog of Archaic equestrian as coming from the Akropolis.

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statue dedicated to Athena on the Akropolis by Anthemion, when he rose from the status of Thes (lower class) to Hippeus (knight), was inscribed as follows: "AicpiAou Av0Euicov TrjvS' dve0r|KE 0eoTs / Gnxucou OVTI Ti^oix; iraiccS' dueiyauevoc;" (Anthemion, son of Diphilos, set this up to the gods, when he changed status from Thes to Knight).98 Aristotle goes on to say that the horse next to the man in the sculpture testifies (eKnap-rupcov) to this fact. The sculpture thus is both an agalma, a charming gift to the gods, and a visual reminder of Anthemion's change in social status. The significance of context is particularly apparent in the case of kouroi, the beautiful naked youths that are capable of representing warriors even without wearing any armor. At one point they were taken universally as representations of Apollo, but even Ridgway, who had revived the interpretation in the first edition of her book on Archaic sculpture, has retreated from this hypothesis." She nonetheless still endorses the interpretation that the Attic kouros "was understood as a heroic/divine representation of sorts."

Stewart instead sees the nude male as a sort of blank canvas with inherent

aesthetic qualities that can easily fulfill a variety of idealized roles in Archaic Attic society. Along with the other generic types, the 'true' kouros meaning in the sense of precise signification is a secondary matter, acquired only (if at all) from context: in this it finds precise parallels in other motifs borrowed by the Greeks from Near-Eastern and Egyptian sources, for

98

[Aristotle] Ath. Pol. VII.4. The sculpture does not survive, and the use of the term EIKGOV does not distinguish a relief sculpture on a stele from sculpture in the round. Rhodes [1981: 144] comments that "dvotKeiTou does not guarantee that A.P. has checked the evidence, but we may presume that a statue which was standing when his source wrote was still standing when he wrote. The statue will almost certainly postdate the return of the Athenians after the Persian sack in 480-479." "Ridgway 1993:61. 100 Ridgway 1993:70.

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instance the sphinx, the lion and the bull fight, and the battle between lion and man. The kore too surely falls under the same rubric.101 Rather than taking nakedness itself as heroic, Stewart argues that the connection between physical and moral beauty in Greek thought makes the naked youth an ideal form for expressing aristocratic arete (warrior virtue) and kalokagathia (beautiful nobility) that are familiar from the heroic paradigm preserved in Homeric poetry. These qualities of the kouros are an idealization of the male gender, and in the fifth century come to provide an iconographic distinction between Greeks and barbarians as well.102 The interpretation of the kouros as a generic type that acquires its meaning from context is also endorsed by Hurwit, who connects these statues both to kalokagathia and to counteracting the uncertainty of mortal existence, a common theme in sixth-century lyric poetry. By freezing beauty at its height, it becomes imperishable and a visual correlative to kleos aphthiton (undying fame).103 These socio-political associations complement the heroic paradigm recently proposed by Langdon for the Early Iron Age, in which hybrid-beast motifs recall the heroic victories of oral poetry and the male initiation rites modeled on them.104 As described by Despoina Tsiafakis, "[t]he siren, the sphinx, and the Gorgon act as symbols of death with the face of a woman, man-killers with a frightening power that is conveyed clearly through visual signs. They are females challenging males and ultimately their death must be brought about by males."105 The social rituals in which young men face these monsters uphold norms and negotiate 101

Stewart 1990: 109. Stewart 1990: 105; cf. Herodotos 1.10. 103 Hurwit 1985: 202. 104 S. Langdon 2008: 123. 105 Tsiafakis 2003: 90. 102

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challenges to categorization through the mythological or metaphorical defeat of the monster and recognition of proper boundaries in the community.106 The funerary assemblages incorporating these motifs claim a particular classification for the deceased and set communal expectations for the survivors who would claim his roles. The motifs drawn from social rituals mirroring the heroic paradigm that are incorporated into funerary commemoration may seem to liken the deceased to mythological heroes, but I believe it is significant that these motifs only appear in the secondary decorative zones. The location of the motifs within the visual idiom has rarely been addressed by scholars who have argued both for and against these motifs as indicative of not just commemoration but hero cult. Woysche-Meautis gives an extensive overview of the scholarship on both sides of this question and mounts a strong argument against assuming that Greeks granted hero-cult status to anyone who was less than almost supernaturally extraordinary. Of particular relevance to the Archaic period is her observation that heroes in Hesiod and Pindar are specifically semi-divine beings whose favor is sought as the object of official cult.107 Additional examples from Herodotos and later authors suggest that men typically are elevated to hero status only at the behest of an oracle.108

S. Langdon [2008: 118-125] sees the "rise of a hero paradigm" and the appearance of Eastern "monster" motifs in eighth-century iconography as reaffirming the established social order. 107 Woysch-Meautis 1982: 29. 108 Woysch-Meautis 1982: 34. She gives the examples of: Philippus of Kroton, who was exceptional for his beauty and athletic prowess (Her. V.47); Artachaees (Her. VII.117) and Onesilos (Her. V.l 14) both became objects of cult worship on the advice of oracles. Based on an examination of the extant oracular inscriptions, Johnston [2005:285] suggests that special treatment of the dead was often prescribed at Delphi to alleviate some suffering that a city was experiencing.

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A narrow definition of "hero" is supported by Attic funerary inscriptions as well, in which fallen warriors are called "dvBpes ccyaSoi" (noble men), never "fipcoes" (heroes).109 As a means of perpetuating social ideals, Woysch-Meautis additionally suggests that a purely human characterization in funerary commemoration is important, because it encourages others to imitate and follow the example claimed for the deceased through the monument.110 Heroization in funerary commemoration is thus the invocation of initiation rites modeled on the heroic paradigm. The heroic motifs are relegated to the secondary decorative zones of the monument precisely because no equation with a mythological hero is envisioned. The motifs, just as the initiation rites, instead create merely an analogy that likens qualities of the deceased to those of mythological heroes in order to create a model for the idealized perpetuation of the community. The point of including such motifs is not to represent the deceased as equivalent to a mythological hero, but to communicate and advocate beneficial qualities through analogy to culturally understood paradigms.

The Sum of All Motifs Male dead thus become a sort of real-world counterpart to the paradigm of the hero through the inclusion of motifs associated with heroic victory in the subsidiary registers of their monuments. Mythological heroes themselves are never represented on Archaic Attic funerary sculptures, not even in the subsidiary zones, which perhaps 109

Woysch-Meautis 1982: 38 cites R. Stupperich [1977:62] (non vidi) who has pointed this out in the case of Classical epitaphs. Seaford [1994: 114-115] observes that only outside Athens are the dead sometimes called "hero" in epitaphs. 110 Woysch-Meautis 1982: 38.

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suggests that an identification of the deceased with the hero or any iconographic implication of subordinating the hero to the deceased would have been viewed as impious. Representations of heroic scenes on vases placed in or on the tomb do not present the same difficulty, since the vases themselves do not "stand in" for the deceased in ritual performances in the way that a funerary sculpture may. As secondary indicators of persona, the vases would be unambiguous in claiming a heroic paradigm for mortal behavior, and not the identification of a man with a hero. Contemporary initiation rites had established this use of the paradigm in ritual action, and the iconography of the monument derives from the rituals in order to locate the deceased within the gendered hierarchy of the community. Possibilities for the addition of secondary motifs on stelai include motifs both above and below the central representational zone. For statues as well as stelai the stone bases supporting the sculpture provide an opportunity for the addition of secondary motifs as well as inscription.111 By the sixth century the stone bases typically were composed of multiple blocks (stepped bases), which bore the epitaph and sometimes were decorated with relief sculpture as well.112 The monuments thus could include multiple supplemental zones of decoration to be "read" in conjunction with the primary representation. As already discussed regarding the use of generic sculpture types for both funerary and votive monuments, context is an essential component of defining the 111

As previously mentioned, Athenians rarely inscribed directly on large-scale sculpture (Jeffery and Johnston 1990: 74). One of the kouroi discovered at Sounion (IG I31024, A) provides a notable exception, which Ridgway [1993: 70] attributes to Naxian influence. 112 The earliest Attic stelai seem to have had bases tapering downward rather than upward like the fully developed Archaic stelai and may have had their bases sunk into the burial mound (Jeffery 1962: 149).

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purpose for which the sculpture was created. "Traditional referentiality" draws on the context of display to provide "the dimension of idiomatic force" just as performance context does for oral poetry.113 When used as a funerary monument, supplemental motifs classify a generic sculpture type through the associations with social ritual and the heroic paradigm that they invoke in the spectator. Pottery placed above-ground on the tombstone, as pictured on a number of white-ground lekythoi (recall Figure 3.9), may be another way to add dimension to the generic primary representation of social persona. Only a small number of decorated bases for funerary sculpture survive from Archaic Attica, though there are also a number of plastered limestone bases that originally could have been painted.114 Of the five bases in Kissas' catalog, it is worth noting that four of the decorated bases were for kouroi, the generic statue par excellence, and that the single decorated base for a stele is decorated on only one side.115 While stelai represent conventional types as do kouroi, the representations tend to be classified more clearly through the inclusion of attributes. In addition to motifs in secondary registers, the central figures on relief stelai typically include traditional markers of social persona and "show them [the deceased] integrated into the social fabric, as typical members of the polis community."116 The central figure on a stele is identifiable as a priest, warrior or athlete, while the persona represented by a kouros may be ambiguous. A stele most easily provides the option of multiple secondary indicators of persona in the form of motifs 113

J. Foley 2002:113. Of the 68 bases Kissas [2000] identifies as funerary in Catalogs A and C, five have relief or inscribed decoration, and six originally were plastered. 115 Decorated kouros bases: Kissas 2000: A42 (Epigraphical Museum, Athens, 12870), Kissas 2000: A43 (Kerameikos Museum, Athens, P1002); Kissas 2000: A44 (National Museum, Athens, 3476); Kissas 2000: A45 (National Museum, Athens, 3477). Stele base: Kissas 2000: A10 (Kerameikos Museum, P1001). 116 Stewart 1990: 50. 114

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placed on the base, praedella, cavetto or crowning member. The more specific the persona represented by the monument is, the more specific the model would be for family members claiming the vacated social roles. The central zone of the painted stele for Lyseas (Figure 3.10), for example, is occupied by a man wearing a chiton, mantle, sandals, and crown of leaves, and holding branches or stalks of grain and a kantharos.117 An additional motif with traditional associations, a racing equestrian, has been placed in the praedella and an inscription has been added to the base that reads: AUOEOU EvBdSe

okpot -rrctTEp Jepov E-

His father Semon set up the gravestone over Lyseas in this

TTE0EKEV

p

iace

(IGI 3 1257)

Horses have a longer history in Greek funerary iconography than the hybrid monsters do, a horse in fact accompanies the earliest representation of a mourning woman on Attic Geometric pottery.118 As Hurwit notes, however, the two figures are not drawn in composition but as "two discrete (if not totally unrelated) symbols, one of rank or ritual, the other of grief."119 Horse motifs have been discovered on objects in the graves of both men and women, though the manner in which they are depicted may have had gender associations. Model horses without accoutrement, for example, appear as handles on the

117

Jeffery 1962: 141, no. 53. Benson 1970: 39; Woysche-M6autis [1982:27-39] gives a survey of the horse as a symbol of elite status in Greek funerary iconography and the associated scholarship. 119 Hurwitl985:64. 118

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lids of pyxides in rich, Geometric graves for women, while horses pulling chariots are more common on the pottery placed in graves for men.120 Woysch-Meautis has pointed out that equestrian figures are entirely lacking in the central register of Archaic Attic stelai, likely because, if an equestrian figure were desirable as the primary indicator of social persona, a free-standing equestrian sculpture would have been chosen for the funerary monument (Figure 3.11).121 Like the horse-head amphorae discussed at the beginning of this chapter, there are a number of possible significations for equestrian figures on Attic funerary monuments, and interpretations linked to both status and ritual thus have been proposed for the rider depicted on the praedella of Lyseas' monument. It has been suggested that the rider motif identifies Lyseas as a member of the Knight property class or represents an abbreviation of the funerary procession or games.122 Whatever the "dimensions of idiomatic force"123 for the racing equestrian may be, they are subordinate to the attributes indicating Lyseas' affiliations in the central zone of the stele. The crown of ivy has a variety of associations, including honoring the dead (note the wreaths set on the stele along with the vases in Figure 3.9), but the kantharos is more specific as a standard attribute of Dionysos. His robes may indicate the office of a priest. Given the strong connection between the cults of Eleusis and Dionysos 120

Eighth-century graves, for example, from the Late Geometric and Early Archaic cemetery in the Agora published by Young and Angel [1939: 76-93] offer an example of this pattern: Graves 17 and 18 for women include pyxides with horses on the lids. Graves 12 and 13 for men included vases with chariot scenes: grave 12 contained an amphora with chariots in the main zone (Young and Angel 1939: 56-57) as well as a terracotta chariot group (Young and Angel 1939: 65-66), and grave 13 contained an oinokoe with a battle scene that included chariots (Young and Angel 1939: 68-71). 121 Woysch-Meautis 1982: 36. 122 Richter 1944: 103-4, fig. 94; Woysch-Meautis 1982: 35; Eaverly 1995: 54. 123 J. Foley 2002: 113.

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Eleuthereus that developed in the latter sixth century,124 the "branches" he is holding might alternatively be sheaves of wheat. The final complement of this gravestone is the inscribed base, which connects Lyseas' name and the name of his father to the entire commemorative representation. Although the distance between the original social context of the monument and our point of view obscures the significance of the motifs, they can all be reasonably connected to known social rituals that would place Lyseas (and perhaps his father) in the roles of male priest or initiate and at one point participated in an equestrian competition at a festival for the city. The riders depicted in relief on the front of the "Riders Base" for a stele (Figure 3.12), just as the equestrian figure on the stele for Lyseas, were likely included to identify characteristics of the deceased not conveyed through the representation on the stele.125 But in this case there are multiple equestrian figures who seem to be parading rather than racing. The suggested role is thus membership in an equestrian cohort that would participate in some kind of procession. The primary representation of the deceased unfortunately has been lost to us with the stele, as has any inscription that may have been placed on another block in the base. Similar scenes, however, also were placed on kouros bases and make it likely that the stele supported by the "Riders Base" would have commemorated a man. Given the undifferentiated nature of the kouros, it is not surprising that greater specification of persona through secondary motifs or inscription is desirable. The extant relief bases for kouroi in fact involve complexes of motifs. In contrast to the single 124 125

Seaford 1994: 262-263. Kerameikos Museum, P1001; Kissas 2000: A10.

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decorated side of the stele base, three of the kouros bases (Figures 3.13, 3.14 and 3.15) have relief decoration on three sides. 2 As we have observed, kouroi by themselves do not indicate any particular social roles, but instead are the embodiment of aristocratic arete and kalokagathia. The choice to decorate the bases to such a degree, therefore, may have been motivated in part by the generic nature of the kouros that Stewart and Hurwit have identified. The extant decorated kouros bases have relief sculpture that suggests aristocratic equestrian and athletic activities, but each involves a unique combination of motifs and may be indicative of slightly different personae for the three kouroi.127 The "Athletes Base" (Figure 3.13) has two athletic scenes—wrestling on the front and a "ball game" on the left—while the scene on the right-hand face shows men putting a dog and cat to fight with additional spectators behind them. All three scenes are connected by the theme of competition and, in the estimation of Woysch-Meautis, aristocratic leisure.128 She notes that the cat is very rare in Greek iconography and was not introduced to Greece from Egypt until the sixth century.129 The cat, therefore, may have been a luxury item or indicative of involvement with Eastern trade in much the same way as the faience, ivory and gold items found in rich, Early Iron Age graves had been.130 If the monument originally included a block bearing an inscription, and it had been preserved, a firmer interpretation perhaps would be possible.

126

The fourth is the earliest example and an unusual case. A seated figure is incised on the front of the base next to the inscription, and the sculptor's name is inscribed vertically next to the image (Epigraphical Museum, Athens, 12870). It is therefore unclear whether the image is to be associated with the kouros or the sculptor (Kissas 2000: A42; Jeffery 1962:127, no. 19). 127 Kissas 2000: A43, A44, and A45. 128 Woysch-Meautis 1982: 67. 129 Woysch-Meautis 1982: 67. 130 Chapter 2: 103.

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As it stands, the absence of battle motifs is notable, and makes identification of the kouros as a warrior seem unlikely. Much more likely in this case is that the social persona suggested by the kouros was an aristocrat who had participated in athletics and had the resources to obtain an exotic animal. The representation also would have provided a model for the behavior of subsequent generations of male family members. The representation was a public display of the activities in which male family members were expected, or at least claimed, to participate. The monument, therefore, would have promoted the continued involvement of family members in particular activities by providing a public reminder of expectations. The other two relief bases for kouroi combine the athletic theme with battle motifs, but in slightly different ways. The "Apobates Base" (Figure 3.14) has a ball-game scene on the front and what appear to be apobates scenes on opposing sides. Although generally derived by scholars from the descriptions of Homeric heroes being taxied to the battlefield, the apobates race has a particularly strong association with Athens and may have been established with the Peisistratid reorganization of the Panathenaic Festival.131 Chariots were not employed in contemporary Athenian warfare.132 But if the chariot scenes do represent the apobates race, the three sides of the base would share the common connection of public athletic competition. Armed hoplites compete in the apobates race, and so the event has military associations as well. Athena herself, moreover, is frequently depicted as a contestant on fifth-century white-ground

131 132

Crowther 1991; Schultz 2007. Snodgrass 1980: 73-74.

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lekythoi.

Once again, the supplemental motifs augmenting the persona represented by

the kouros seem to have a link to the social rituals of Athens. The "Lion-Attack Base" (Figure 3.15) also combines athletic and battle motifs, but the composition emphasizes characteristics of persona that are different from the "Apobates Base." The poorly preserved athletes on the front face have a posture similar to the ball players on the "Athletes Base" (Figure 3.13) and may indicate the same activity. The equestrian figures in the relief on the left face seem to be parading as on the "Riders Base" for the stele (Figure 3.12). Some of the ways rider figures could be understood have already been discussed in reference to the stele for Lyseas and the "Riders Base," and the same spectrum of possibilities applies to the riders on the "LionAttack Base." An indication of economic class, funerary ritual or participation in athletic games are among the most popular interpretations that have been endorsed by scholars.134 The third relief on the "Lion-Attack Base," however, is a completely different kind of motif, but one that is familiar from both epic and the pottery associated with seventh- and sixth- century Attic graves. Rather than human figures, the relief depicts a combat scene between a lion and a boar. Along with the complex Eastern associations of various lion motifs, Markoe has argued convincingly for a tradition of associating lion combat with heroic triumph in epic, Attic architectural sculpture and Attic vase painting in the seventh and sixth centuries BC. He cites 28 lion combat similes in the Iliad, which compare the victorious hero in a duel to a lion, while the opponent to be defeated is cast as a variety of other 133 134

Schultz 2007. See above n. 117.

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animals.

As additional support for the association of lion combat with heroic victory,

he traces the juxtaposition of lion combat motifs and heroic triumph scenes on vases from the Protoattic period through the Black-Figure period until the motif disappeared around the end of the sixth century.136 The animal combat scene on the 'Lion-Attack Base', therefore, likely would have carried strong associations with the heroic paradigm and participation in battle. The opposing boar would have only strengthened the heroic associations. Not only is a boar the famous opponent of the hero Meleager (//. 9.543599), a boar is also pitted against a lion in a simile describing one of the most significant duels in the Iliad.U1 In the fatal battle between Hektor and Patroklos, victorious Hektor is described as a lion, while Patroklos is likened to a boar (77.16.823-826). Whether or not the scene on the kouros base would have been associated with particular heroes is impossible to know and not particularly significant. The heroic associations of the motif are clear from its popularity in Archaic Attic vase-painting and funerary contexts. The three scenes carved in relief on the "Lion-Attack Base" thus combine the paradigm of the aristocratic athlete training amidst his age-mates in the city with the heroic simile of a lion fighting a boar in order to identify the kouros as an elite warrior. The kouros is not juxtaposed with a specific battle scene from heroic epic, but rather with scene-type—the lion attack—that so frequently signals victory in battle within the idiom of Homeric poetry. The archetypal beautiful youth thus is represented as the real-world counterpart to mythic heroes through a motif that has a place in both arenas. Victory in 135

Markoe 1989: 115. Markoe 1989: 91-94. 137 The Kalydonian Boar Hunt also appears on the Francois vase (ca. 570 B.C.), and Herakles' capture of the Erymanthian Boar is another heroic task involving a boar that is familiar from black-figure vase paintings (Boardman 1985: 34 and 222). 136

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battle can be achieved by men as well as heroes. Rather than emphasizing the persona of a cohort member, as seems to be suggested by the combined scenes on the "Apobates Base," the persona of the victorious warrior is claimed for the kouros on the "Lion-Attack Base." Comparison of the three kouros bases demonstrates the way motifs incorporated into the subsidiary decoration of a sculpted gravestone are used to transform the generic representation of abstract qualities into a specific representation of persona. The kouros is the visual counterpart of aristocratic arete and kalokagathia in a social milieu that draws on the heroic paradigm preserved to some degree in the Homeric poems. When combined with subsidiary motifs or inscription on its base, the result is a multi-dimensional classification of the deceased within the gendered hierarchy of the community. The multi-dimensional gravestones par excellence, however, are the Archaic Attic stelai of sculpted marble. The image in the central decorative zone of the stele, like the register invoked by traditional linguistic cues in epic poetry, establishes the foundation on which the specific representation of persona is built through the addition of supplemental motifs in the surrounding decorative zones. The Archaic stele now in the National Archaeological Museum in Athens (Figure 3.7), discovered built into the Themistoklean walls, is just such a multidimensional reminder of the deceased. An archetypal warrior is represented in the central zone, and the heroic paradigm, if not an actual initiation rite, is called to the mind of the contemporary spectator through the gorgon on the pradella. The stele may have been crowned with another hybrid being like the sphinx in the reconstruction, but a range of options from palmette finial to some other small-scale sculpture are possible as well.

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Like the sphinx, the gorgon typically has been seen as simply apotropaic or indicating the funerary nature of the monument.138 Sourvinou-Inwood has argued that the sphinx in particular is a protector concerned with "the preservation of the only part of the deceased left to the world of the living, his metonymic sign, and through this also of his memory of which the sema is the vehicle and focus."139 But such an interpretation places the emphasis on the eschatological value of the monument, which implies that erecting one was obligatory on some level. There is no indication, however, that setting up a gravestone was common practice.140 In accordance with Metcalf s theory of "ritual economy,"141 the stone marker is instead the prerogative of those who had the means and interest in perpetuating the claim to specific social roles and status for a member of their family.142 The sphinx, furthermore, is not the only hybrid that was used as the crowning member of a stele. The gorgon was employed on at least one stele as a capital as well.143 But the gorgon in the praedella of the stele in the National Museum does not occupy the crowning "protective" (according to Sourvinou-Inwood) position.144 It is subordinate to the representation in the central register, which suggests that the hybrid is meant to supplement the representation of persona rather than protect it. This supplemental function becomes clear when both iconographical convention and the broader social context are taken into account. The placement of the "running

138

Woysch-Meautis 1982: 81-83. Sourvinou-Inwood 1996: 272. 140 Stears 2000: 27. 141 Metcalf 1981; Chapter 2: 86-87. 142 Discussion of the patterns identifying which social classes tended to receive elaborate markers will be taken up in the next chapter. 143 Ohly 1962. 144 Sourvinou-Inwood 1996: 272. 139

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gorgon" on the stele under discussion (Figure 3.7) is exactly parallel to the placement of the racing equestrian on Lyseas' stele (Figure 3.10) and also creates a strikingly similar iconographic relationship as the relief bases (Figures 3.13-15) do to the kouroi they support. On all of these other gravestones, the motif that is spatially subordinate is subordinate in terms of representational function as well: it complements the identification of the central figure. None of the other secondary motifs, furthermore, can be taken as protective. With the exception of the lion-attack simile, they are all representations of participation in contemporary social ritual. These parallels, I would argue, strongly suggest that the significance of the gorgon in the praedella should be sought in contemporary social ritual as well. The popularity of the "Perseus slaying Medousa" motif in Protoattic and early black-figure pottery and its connection to the heroic paradigm have already been discussed in relation to the Eleusis amphora.145 Like the sphinx, the Gorgon is most commonly associated with the men and likely has some connection to the paradigm of heroic triumph and male initiation rituals. The gorgoneion (emblem showing the face of the gorgon) is known in Homer146 and thought to have appeared even earlier than the fully formed Gorgon.147 The gorgoneion is familiar as a shield emblem,148 and it becomes combined with the aegis (the snaky shawl Athena uses to strike terror in her enemies) in the iconography of the sixth century, particularly in Athenian art.149 In addition to the associations with heroic trials and battle, the Gorgon has been 145

Chapter 2: 135-137; Figure 2.11. //. 5.741-42; 8.349; 11.36-7; Od. 11.633-635. 147 Tsiafakis2003:85. 148 Boardman 1985: 226. 149 Tsiafakis2003:86. 146

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identified as an emblem of Athenian commerce and the Archaic building program on the Akropolis.150 The gorgoneion appears on a number of early Athenian coins including, as pointed out by Markoe, one of the earliest Athenian tetradrachmas (Figure 3.16, no. 173), which has a lion protome the reverse.151 The coin was issued around the time of the Peisitratos, and it has been suggested that its purpose was to facilitate foreign trade.152 But most of the gorgoneion "heraldic coins" belong to "a coinage consisting of modest denominations and intended for local use, for it does not declare its origin explicitly, nor is it often found far afield."153 As when used for Athena's shield device on Panathenaic amphorae, furthermore, there are indications that the emblems should be associated with particular elite families in Athens.154 The iconography of the coins, like that of the funerary monuments, may all be linked to associating particular qualities to families within the larger community. Whether chosen by Peisistratos or other community leaders, juxtaposing the gorgoneion and another heroic motif, the lion, on official coinage suggests that the emblem was connected to the activities of the living, and its iconographic sibling did not merely guard the dead. When incorporated into the decorative program of funerary monuments, the Gorgon, like the sphinx and lion, is a secondary indicator of persona that locates the deceased within the gendered hierarchy of the living community.

150

Markoe 1989: 108-109. Another point of contact between the Gorgon and lion is found in early Protocorinthian examples of the Gorgon whose face shares the features of lions (Tsiafakis 2003: 85). 152 Bailey 1940:69. 153 Kraay 1976:58. 154 Kraay 1976:57. 151

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Conclusion Monumental Late Geometric vases are an innovation in memory of communal funerary rites through a lasting above-ground display. Representation of the social roles transferred to survivors is limited, however, inasmuch as the deceased is only present as a shroud-enveloped corpse amidst a glorious public ritual. The advent of monumental stone sculpture in Attica, however, allows a living persona to be depicted on a durable, aboveground marker. The new commemorative form permits greater "legibility," identified as one of the primary characteristics of Archaic art by Hurwit. As objects designed to preserve memory through presentation, sculpted monuments parallel the conventions of contemporary oral poetry in which "noun-epithet formulas are keys or switches—not unlike links on a Web page—that summon a larger context via specialized code. They bring the named persons or objects or places to center stage by idiomatically accessing their traditional identity .. ."155 The visual formulae of the grave markers are drawn from the classificatory institutions of Attic society and often combined in multiple decorative registers in order to build a multi-dimensional representation. Like the type-scenes of epic poetry that are introduced through the use of conventional cues and whose full significance can only be realized in relation to the tradition they draw on, the personae represented on the painted or sculpted grave markers are the result of assembled motifs connected to culturally understood paradigms. Just as Late Geometric grave goods are attributes of the corpse laden with traditional referents during the funeral, supplemental motifs on a stone monument supply traditional

155

J. Foley 2002:113.

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indicators of social classification to the "living" archetype. The living representation thus not only preserves memory of the deceased in a highly visible, legible manner, it also represents the claims of the burying group who would take over his or her vacated social roles.

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Chapter 4 Little Things that Count: Vases, Plaques and Inscribed Bases

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Elite funerary monuments during the Archaic period in Attica incorporate a variety of objects in order to produce a multidimensional commemorative assemblage, which locates the deceased within the gendered hierarchy of the community on the one hand, and invokes the rites performed by the burying group on the other. As we have seen, a representation of the persona of the deceased frequently occupies the central position on a grave marker and may be defined either through reference to the heroic paradigm on pottery or through a sculpted living persona. To this primary representation, secondary elements may be added as well in order to refine the persona and represent the funeral. The previous chapter focused on the primary representation of the deceased on the grave marker; the present chapter will consider the supplemental objects and inscription, which complete the commemorative assemblage. Similar to the relief bases for kouroi examined in the previous chapter, some secondary objects incorporate conventional motifs derived from communal rituals in order to add dimension to the generic persona represented by a statue or stele. Objects bearing representations of funerary ritual commemorate the actions of mourners and were deposited at foci for their activities, primarily in offering trenches and on the stepped bases of tombstones. The resulting monument is a multi-dimensional "document" that perpetuates collective memory of both the deceased and his or her burying group. As we have seen, information on seventh-century burials is generally poor. Determinations of gender, even when assigned to graves by excavators, typically have not been confirmed by osteological analysis. As Kubler comments in the case of the Kerameikos cemetery, seventh- and also sixth-century grave goods do not provide as

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clear an indication of gender as the goods in Early Iron Age graves.1 There is, however, continuing evidence of significant investment in above-ground display for certain burials. Among graves dated to the seventh-century by excavators, 12 of 23 adult burials in the Kerameikos have evidence of markers: six have built tomb structures (Appendix 1, cat. nos.: 17, 21, 22, 32, 39 and 53); six have large terracotta vessels attributed to the top of the mound or tomb (Appendix 1, cat. nos.: 6, 8, 18, 32, 53, and 55); and two were marked with stelai (Appendix 1, cat. nos.: 12 and 16). The earliest inscribed stone marker, the stele of Keramo, also has been dated to the seventh century.2 Early sculptural markers, as well as the scattered finds of Protoattic marker vases like the Nessos amphora in Athens, may continue a shift that began with the monumental Late Geometric vases toward investment in commemorative objects that would continue to be visible after the funeral had concluded. If they are the primary indicator of social persona, as I argued in the previous chapter, sculpted monuments in particular may have rendered the deposition of gender-specific goods less important. Snodgrass has pointed out that the portion of Attic graves containing metal goods was never very high and, further, that increased dedications of metal goods at sanctuaries beginning in the eighth century B.C. suggest supply of metal was not the limiting factor.3 Such a trend, however, does not necessarily indicate that there was a "redirection of attention towards the communal sanctuary and away from the individual grave."4 While it is true that both processes—deposition of grave goods and dedications at sanctuaries— 'Kttbler 1959:85. Chapter 3: n. 32. 3 Snodgrass 1980: 52-54. 4 Snodgrass 1980: 54. 2

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remove valuable metal from productive use, there is a significant difference between these two loci of deposition: sanctuary deposits remain visible (to the priests at least) after dedication;5 grave goods do not. Once goods have been deposited with the remains of the deceased, they cease to provide visual evidence of identity or status in the living community. Their value for reinforcing collective memory, therefore, is limited to the visual coding in support of the lament at the funeral itself. Sanctuary deposits, in contrast, continue to be on view, at least for some time, and thus able to attest to the validity of claims made by the living. In addition to the dedicated objects themselves, later literary evidence supports the view that sanctuary dedications were used in exactly this way. Herodotos (1.24), for example, cites a bronze statue of a man riding a dolphin that had been dedicated at Tainaron as evidence that the story he tells about Arion's rescue from the sea by a dolphin after being robbed by the sailors conveying him to Corinth is true. The bronze provides visual corroboration for the oral/written account of the historian. From the Classical period in Athens itself, evidence of dedicated objects being used to substantiate claims comes from court speeches such as In Theomnestum I (Lysias 10), in which Lysias' client is prosecuting a charge of slander. The speaker builds an image of his own character based on qualities inherited from his father, a proponent of Athenian democracy who was killed during the reign of the Thirty. The argument thus brings to light the traditional value familial personae may have in negotiating political 5

It is true that the dedications would not remain visible indefinitely. Older dedications in a sanctuary often were eventually buried in "clean-up" operations. Keesling [2003: 49-50] argues that the Persian sack of Athens did not precipitate all the deposits of damaged sculpture discovered on the Akropolis but that some deposits must be dated to the Classical period instead.

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life in Athens. Part of the evidence the speaker draws on in support of his claims are temple dedications, which serve as visual "proof of the character portraits he paints: ou ETI Kai vuv, cb avSpes SiKaaTai, Tfjs apETfjs i a uvnuEia -rrpos T0T5 uuETspois avaKEixai, TO 5E TOUTOU Kai TOU TOUTOU -rrctTpos Tfls Kaidas irpos TOTS TCOV TroAEufcov OUTCO auucpuTos CCUTOTS r\ 5eiXia. (Lysias 10.28)

Even now, Gentlemen of the Jury, [my father's] mementos of excellence are set up in your shrines, w h i i e the mementos of this man's and his father's baseness are set up in the shrines of the enemy, so m b o r n is their cowardice.

The "shrines of the enemy" would be beyond the immediate view of the Athenian jury, just as the bronze at Tainaron would be for a contemporary audience of Herodotos' account, but this does not necessarily invalidate the authority of the objects as proof. The point is that the dedicated arms could be seen. Their location is what makes the dedications significant as support for the speaker's claims: the dedication of one's shield in a sanctuary at home commemorates success on the battlefield. The presence of one's shield in an enemy shrine, in contrast, testifies to defeat. The acts of dedication are parallel, but their significance is opposite. Just as a funerary monument in a specific precinct of a cemetery attests to the occurrence of death in a particular family, objects dedicated at sanctuaries provide the authority of sight in order to reinforce collective memory transmitted through oral tradition. Although such literary evidence from court speeches is lacking for the Archaic period, inscriptions accompanying votive dedications suggest that the 'testimony of objects' was active in the earlier period as well. In contrast to Classical practice, as Catherine Keesling points out, the vast majority of inscribed monumental dedications on the Akropolis during the Archaic period were made by private individuals rather than the

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state.6 Such dedications provide continuous support claims about benefaction to the city through their visibility. An Archaic example from Eleusis is the dedication of stelai by Alkiphron during his archonship: 5EHOI AGevaiov a[pxov] OTEAC(5 KaSEBEKEv | AAKi'qjpo v KOI TOVSE Sponov TTOIEOEV Epaorov | AEMETP65 TE Xaptv [KOI 6vE5 T]avu"niTrAo.

During his archonship, Alkiphron set up the stelai for the people of Athens and made this dromos i o v e l y f o r t h e s a k e o f Demeter and long-robed Persephone. (IGI 3 991)

Friedlander and Hoffleit have argued that the stelai and dromos should be interpreted as a racecourse with goalposts for the Eleusinia.7 Whatever the practical function of the stelai, Alkiphon saw to it that they had been marked in such a way that his status as a "provider of public works" would be visible in the living community long after the dedication had been made. Similar examples of commemorating public benefaction in Attica are the fragment of a milestone set up by Hipparchos, son of Peisistratos (IG I 1023), a dedication Cheirion made while treasurer (IG I3 590), and the altar of Apollo dedicated by Peisistratos, son of Hippias (IG I3 948).9 All of these inscribed objects perpetuate the social status of the dedicator through continuous display in a prominent public location. When the value of perpetuating visual testimony is taken into account, therefore, funerary and votive practices during the Archaic period in Attica may be seen as parallel rather than alternative commemorative investments. Greater support for collective 6

Keesling2005:396. Friedlander and Hoffleit 1948: 51, no. 49. 8 The milestones were in the form of herms (pillars with the head of Hermes and an erect phallus), inscribed with a hortatory expression of wisdom, and were set up halfway between Athens and each deme (Shapiro 1989: 125-126). According to Shapiro, "the setting up of road markers was itself a public service to the demesmen to whom the Peisistratids owed their long and stable rule." 9 The altar was dedicated at the Pythion, which is thought to have been located along the Ilissos (Shapiro 1989: 50). Shapiro [1989: 52] considers it unlikely that Peisistratos founded sanctuaries of Apollo at Athens to rival the cult at Delphi, as some other scholars have suggested. 7

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memory is derived from authoritative objects, such as those placed in a sanctuary or inscribed sculpture set up in a public place, which may be seen in order to reinforce oral claims. Small metal objects, however, likely would not be as effective as a lasting reminder in a funerary context as they were in a sanctuary, where they were protected to some degree by becoming the property of a god and under the care of priests. Small objects in a cemetery had no formal protection and thus would be vulnerable to vandalism as well as the forces of nature. Unlike Late Geometric monuments under which the persona of the deceased was buried and on top of which the ritual performances of mourners occupy the primary position on monumental vases, seventh- and sixth-century funerary assemblages make the living persona central. The primary decorative zone on the marker, whether horsehead amphora, stele or free-standing sculpture, identifies essential roles that are transferred to survivors, while supplemental objects recall the funeral and lament that attest to ties between the deceased and burying group. Funerary sculptures, as examined in the previous chapter, may incorporate supplemental elements in secondary registers on stelai, or through additional sculpture or inscription on the bases. But pottery forms the bulk of the supplemental goods displayed and/or deposited during various stages of the rites. Less expensive and more readily available than sculpture, substantial collections have been found in offering trenches and graves in the Kerameikos in the final century of the Archaic period, ca. 600-480 B.C. This chapter, therefore, moves away from the primary representations of persona carried on the markers to the role of supplemental objects that are deposited by the burying group in the grave or offering trench or

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displayed above-ground with the marker. These objects add dimension to the collective memory reinforced through the monument by expanding the persona of the deceased and commemorating the actions of the mourners themselves.

Burials of Children Not all members of wealthy families received an equal commemorative investment at death. The grave form for small children, inhumation in a terracotta vessel or enchytrismos, remains largely as it had since the Early Iron Age, and the distinction between graves of adults and prepubescent children continues to be the most strongly marked in the Kerameikos cemetery during the seventh and sixth centuries B.C. Adults are both cremated and inhumed, but there is no evidence that children were regularly cremated. The exception may be infants who died with their mothers in childbirth as seems to have been the case with the "Rich Athenian Lady" and her child.10 The remains of children are almost always deposited in an undecorated amphora or pithos, although decorated vases are sometimes included as grave goods, a practice that becomes increasingly common as the sixth century progresses.11 An apparent woman-and-child burial dated to the sixth century B.C. in the Kerameikos (Appendix 1: cat. no. 129) demonstrates this pattern of distinction in the mortuary treatment of adults and children. The woman was cremated, but the child was not. The child's remains were instead placed in an amphora and inserted directly over the 10

See Chapter 2: 102. Children were sometimes buried in other types of terracotta vessels, wood coffins or earth graves. For a discussion of the variety of pottery shapes used to contain remains in the Kerameikos, see Knigge [1976: 20-32] on the cemetery south of the Eridanos, the so-called Sudhugel. 11

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woman's grave, a configuration which has led the excavators to the conclusion that the two were related.12 No goods had been deposited in either grave, but debris found nearby, which Knigge has attributed to an offering trench,13 contained a black-figure phormiskos (Figure 4.1), two black-figure pinakes (clay plaques), and a black-figure plate.14 The phormiskos15 and pinakes all had prothesis scenes on them, and the female deceased in the scene on the vase is labeled with the name Myrina. The plate depicts a woman holding a plemochoe on the tondo. Although the gender of the adult corpses on the pinakes is uncertain, it is clear on the phormiskos and plate, and suggests that all of the objects should be associated with the woman rather than the child buried in the amphora. In the case of the woman, therefore, a significant investment has been made in her mortuary rites. Cremation requires a certain or even substantial amount of wood and labor to oversee the pyre, and at least one of the terracotta objects, the phormiskos, seems to have been commissioned in order to include the name of the deceased. The child, in contrast, received virtually no commemorative investment. Thetis repeatedly refers to Achilles as coKuuopos (fated to die young) in the Iliad (1.417, 1.505, 18.95 and 18.458), and one interpretation of the large proportion of sculptural monuments that are devoted to young adults is that the monument somehow

12

Kiibler 1976: 139; Kunze-Gotte, Tancke and Vierneisel 1999: 117, Graves 465 and 466. Kunze-G6tte, Tancke and Vierneisel 1999: 117, Opferrinne 8. 14 Kerameikos Museum, Athens, Inv. 677 (stolen), 690, 691 and 692. 15 Neils [1992: 233] has observed that the Attic black-figure variety of this shape, in contrast to phormiskoi found in other parts of the Greek world, lacks a "door" for retrieval of knucklebones that likely were stored inside. In Attica the vases are typically decorated with a prothesis scene and may have invoked conventional associations of knucklebones with divination and burial rites, even when no knucklebones were placed in the grave (Neils 1992:233-235). 13

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compensates them for an unfulfilled life.16 Along similar lines, Shapiro has commented that "[a]s a rule, the less time the deceased had been allotted on earth to make his mark in the world and leave a legacy of offspring, the greater was the need to commemorate him (or her) in a permanent monument."17 Even more short-lived than Achilles, however, are the prepubescent children, such as the one just described, who are buried in the Kerameikos. The deaths of children are tragic for the family, but grief is the primary concern to be negotiated by survivors. Their deaths do not entail the same loss of occupied social roles, as is the case when an adult dies young and the community is deprived of his or her most socially productive years at or near their beginning. Young children also do not have their personae established through participation in the full spectrum of social rituals that recognize progression through the gendered hierarchy of the community. The lack of participation in ritual, furthermore, seems to be reflected in the pottery deposited in their graves, the vast majority of which lacks figural decoration. The bulk of pottery associated with the graves of adolescents and adults, in contrast, does carry figural decoration. Much simpler assemblages typically accompany the amphorae and pithoi burials of young children: no markers have been linked to their graves before the Classical period; and a strikingly large portion of the pottery deposited in the graves has only nonfigural decoration. Of the 46 seventh- and sixth-century child burials in the Kerameikos,

16 17

Sourvinou-Inwood 1996: 288-290. Shapiro 1991: 644.

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six have no grave goods at all, and 22 have goods with only non-figural decoration. Only two of the vessels containing the skeletons of children (Appendix 1: cat. no. 98 and 143) were decorated: one amphora (cat. no. 98) has a warrior with a horse and dancers following a female aulos-player; and a horse-head amphora contained the skeleton in cat. no. 143. The additional vases deposited in the two graves, as summarized in Appendix 1, were all non-figural. In the minority of graves that do include pottery with figural decoration, it tends to be a small portion of the assemblage. Appendix 1: cat. no. 7, for example, contains a significant collection of pottery, but only three of the eight vessels carry decoration—all birds. Children do have the potential to take on social roles, and this potential perhaps is recognized by the limited number of vases with figural decoration deposited in their graves. An elaborate contemporary adult grave (Appendix 1: cat. no. 6) provides a striking contrast. The objects associated with the grave include vessels decorated with the beasts and hybrid monsters derived from the heroic paradigm, chariot scenes (possibly to be taken as the apobates contest) and mourning scenes. A monumental krater with a centaur frieze marked the grave. The same pattern continues in the sixth century, though the overall number of graves is much greater, particularly at the end of the century. Of the 42 sixth-century child graves, only 14 contained goods decorated with scenes of human or divine activity, in contrast to 47 of the 97 (relatively undisturbed) adult grave

Child burials without goods: Appendix 1, cat. no. 15,20, 28, 51,92 and 148; burials with only nonfigural goods: Appendix 1, cat. no. 7, 49, 66, 93, 94, 97, 98, 99, 100,110,120, 122, 143,153, 160, 162, 168, 173,174, 176, 177 and 178.

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assemblages attributed to the sixth century.19 Although there are no absolute "rules" regarding the goods Archaic Athenians deposited in the graves of children and adults, broad patterns are evident. I suggest that the explanation for this pattern lies in the connection between the iconography of commemorative objects and social classification through participation in communal rituals, such as was demonstrated in the previous chapter through the Panathenaic and horse-head amphorae. Whether pottery and other objects with non-figural decoration placed in the graves of children represents purposeful choices or relatively unconscious feelings about what was appropriate on the part of the burying group, we will never know. What is reasonably certain, however, is that young children would not yet have participated in athletic contests, preparation for battle, or in the marriage rites that are depicted directly or invoked through traditional referents on the pottery deposited in adult graves. Children clearly have an important role to play in the perpetuation of the community, and the literary sources support the view that a high value was placed on procreation and the survival of children. Among the laws attributed to Solon, for example, is the regulation that "the husband of an epikleros should have sexual intercourse with her at least three times a month, or, if he was incapable of this, that she should be allowed to 'consort' with her husband's next of kin . . ."20 Not only do such early laws underscore the emphasis placed on the reproductive role of women, they highlight the importance placed on children as the means by which households continue

19

The graves and a summary of the iconography on the objects associated with them is given in Appendix

1. 20

Just 1991: 98; cf. Plutarch Solon 20.

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to exist in the living community. Although the high proportion of non-figural grave goods and lack of markers suggest that there was little motivation to commemorate the personae of children, this is not to say that people did not grieve when children died, or that children were not valued. The pattern instead suggests that there was not the same level of collective memory created while they lived, nor the same level of social negotiation involved when children died. Commemorating the personae of children thus did not serve the needs of the living in the same way as commemorating adolescents and adults in their prime. Some scholars undoubtedly would cite the so-called "Brother and Sister" stele in New York (Figure 4.2a-c)21 as evidence of an expensive grave marker from the Archaic period that was intended to commemorate the personae of children. The central zone of the stele shows a nude youth; an oil flask hanging from his arm specifies the persona of an athlete. He holds a spherical object with some kind of tail or base in his hand as well.22 Close examination of the hands of the youth and girl reveals that they are making the same gesture and likely holding the same object, a flower or pod. Nuran Sahin has argued that the girl is smelling a lotus flower, a motif connected to immortality and rebirth in Egypt. The state of preservation makes it impossible to determine if her flower is identical to the one held by the youth, which Sahin mentions could be a poppy instead of

21

Metropolitan Museum, New York, no. 11.185a-d, f, g, x (Richter 1944: 64-74 and Fig. 73. The museum catalog describes the object the boy holds as a pomegranate (2http://www.metmuseum.org/ works_of_art/collection_database/greek_and_...r_of_a_youth_and_little_girl/objectview.aspx?collID=13& OID=130017506), but this would be an unusual attribute for a boy. A ball, as suggested by Golden, seems more reasonable (1990: 128). Such an interpretation, however, is not supported by the iconography as the detail image of the youth's hand shows (Figure 4.2b). 23 Sahin 1992: 233.

22

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a lotus. Whatever kind of "flower" it is, one must consider if the iconography was inspired by an occasion during which both youths and girls would be holding flowers. The fragmentary inscription (IG I3 1265) offers no assistance in identifying the occasion. It is located on the base of the stele, and Richter recounts that Wade-Gery and Raubitschek independently reconstructed it as:25 nvipa cpfXoi Me[yaKAET ME] -rra-rep ETTEBEKE [9a] VOVT[I], | Xouv 5E qjiXE

His father has set [me] up as a reminder for dear, deceased Me[gakles], along with dear . . . (IGI31241)

OiXoi (=(p(Xcp) in the first line makes 6CCVOVTI in the second highly probable, but the reconstruction of the name, Megakles, as well as the identity of the female indicated by cpiXs in the third line is much less certain. Croenert, who read alpha instead of iotalambda in the third line, proposed a radically different reconstruction: nvina q>iXoi m' E[TT'I TraiSi] TrotTEp ETTE0EKE [6a] VOVT[I], | Xouv 8E O[avo HETEP, ovopa 8' AuncpctvEs]

His father, Antiphanes by name, along with his mother, Phano, has set me up as a reminder over his d ear deceased child.

(SEG 10:433) Richter also points out that the inscription was originally published as: "uveua 91X01 MefyaKXEs HE] Tra-rep ETTE0EKE [ME]VOV[I], | XOUV 5E q>iXe" (His father Megakles set me up as a memorial to beloved Menon, and along with him dear [

has been buried]), and

that Menekles or the pronoun me with the name Alkmeon or Amutheon are other possible reconstructions of a name in the first line.26 As the great variety of the illustrations 24

§ahin 1992: 236. There is some scholarly debate regarding the depiction of "flowers" such as this, which have sometimes been taken as pomegranates. There is a long history of iconographic parallels suggesting that they may actually be opium poppies (Kritikos and Papadaki 1963: 80-150). 25 Richter 1944: 72 (no publication information given for Wade-Gery and Raubitschek). 26 Richter 1944: 71-74.

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illustrates, the fragmentary preservation of the inscription makes any reconstruction of specific names highly uncertain. •a

An inscription stating that the monument is for a brother and sister (IGI 1265) appears on the lower portion of a stele found at Kalyvia in the Attic countryside. It is of similar date and has good preservation of the letters, but we lack the relief sculpture that likely appeared above the inscription. The Kalyvia inscription names the deceased brother (Archios), the man who set up the monument (Eukosmides), and the sculptor (Phaidimos), but the girl is simply referred to as dSeAcpes cpi'Xes. Based on this parallel, it seems likely that the cpiAe in the third line of the inscription on the New York stele refers to the girl rather than a mother, but the identification must remain speculative. The point of this digression on the reconstructions of the inscription in New York is to point out that funerary inscriptions are not as formulaic as votive inscriptions tend to be, particularly concerning which individuals are named, a point to which I shall return. A fairly high degree of uncertainty thus often accompanies inscriptions that have been heavily reconstructed. Mark Golden points to the disparity in the size of the two figures and interprets the image as a boy protective of his little sister.27 Whatever the real ages and relationship of the two decedents at the time of their death, however, I suggest that the youth and girl both should be interpreted as adolescents (i.e. pre-adult but no longer children). They are in a liminal phase, about to make the final transformation to an adult social role. The oil flask carried by the boy carries associations with athletic activities familiar from 27

Golden 1990: 126-128.

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contemporary black-figure vases (Figure 4.2a-b) and the "Athletes Base" (Figure 3.13) for a kouros discussed in the previous chapter. The supplemental details in both cases specify the generic nude youth as an athlete. His nude state is unhelpful in pinning down his age, as nude male figures have a long history in Athenian art and appear in various classifications. Odysseus and his men on the Eleusis Amphora (Figure 2.11) are all nude, but generally so are the warriors and athletes on black-figure lekythoi (Figure 4.3). Boys as well as men, furthermore, seem to have trained for and competed in athletic events without clothing. The paides (boys) age class has been estimated at 12-17 years, and the determination of age seems to have been neither particularly accurate or strict.28 The value of the athlete generic type, however, is given by its conventional associations. The bulky musculature of the youth on the stele in New York is much more developed than one would expect of a prepubescent boy and reminiscent of Archaic kouroi and the athletes on black-figure lekythoi deposited in contemporary Athenian graves (Figure 4.3). Athletic training has traditional associations with both war and death through the celebration of heroic funerals such as the one for Patroklos in the Iliad. Representations of athletes in Archaic Athenian art, furthermore, focus on the characteristics of adolescents and men of an age to serve the polis, as is indicated by the developed musculature of the athletes on the base now in the National Museum in Athens (Figure 3.13). Rather than young boys beginning their athletic training, these athletes and the youth on the "Brother and Sister" stele in New York are young men engaged in a particular category of social ritual that was traditionally linked to both the heroic

28

Golden 1990: 68-69.

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paradigm and celebrations of the patron goddess of city. The representation of an athlete in his prime on a funerary monument thus calls to the mind of a contemporary spectator a youth, who is fully integrated into the gendered hierarchy of the community. In spite of her small size, the female figure similarly is represented as integrated into the social matrix of the community. As is the case for her companion on the stele, her persona is not that of a young child. She is instead located in the liminal class of females with the greatest value to perpetuation of the community, that of a young woman about to be married. As Langdon has emphasized in the case of Late Geometric burial patterns in Athens, the persona of a young woman has a long history of special treatment in terms of funerary commemoration. The flower she holds, in particular, has both literary and iconographic associations with girls of marriageable age and death, which can be traced through comparison to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter and the tombstone for Phrasikleia (Figure 4.4a). Traditionally dated ca. 650-550 B.C., the Hymn is likely earlier or contemporary with the "Brother and Sister" stele,29 and the story of Persephone it contains has often been cited as both a paradigm for adolescent girls entering marriage and a foundation myth for the Eleusinian Mystery cult. As Graf has pointed out, "initiation in its application to Greece wavers between two widely different meanings . . . initiation rites as secret introductory rites into the different mystery cults, and what late nineteenth-century scholarship called tribal initiation or puberty rites."30 The Hymn contains aspects of both types of initiation and perhaps is better viewed as a

For a discussion of the uncertain date and origin of the poem, see H. Foley 1994: 29-30. Graf 2003: 9.

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multidimensional paradigm of social transitions than as a reflection of specific historical ritual(s). Bruce Lincoln, in particular, has argued that the Hymn derives from a much earlier, prehistoric ritual that initiated girls into puberty.31 Other scholars have dissented from this view based on the evidence suggesting that not all individuals in Archaic and Classical Greek communities would have participated in such rites, the purpose of which "is the social reproduction of the community by means of the instruction and integration of the female into her adult, procreative role."32 As Ann Suter suggests, the Hymn does not conform to one particular rite that was practiced by an Archaic Greek community and likely reflects modifications to the oral tradition in reflection of late seventh-century social ideals.33 In spite of the fact that it cannot be tied to a single social rite at Athens, the Hymn does make explicit the parallels between marriage and death for young women and suggests motifs associated with social transitions along the lines of the heroic paradigm for men. Helene Foley describes the subsequent history of the parallel as follows: the Demeter/Persephone myth became in some instances a paradigm in Greek art and literature for human marriage as a rite of initiation; in marriage the bride could be thought to undergo a symbolic death before a symbolic rebirth and reincorporation into a new household as wife and mother.34 Unlike death marriage was in fact reversible in Archaic and Classical Athens, and Gloria Ferrari has convincingly argued that the woman actually moves in opposite direction: the 31

Lincoln 1979; 1981: 72. Suter [2002: 82-100] systematically refutes the interpretation of the myth as a coming-of-age story and suggests that it should instead be taken as a hieros gamos (sacred marriage) connected to "seasonal rites of passage." 32 Suter 2002: 92. 33 Suter 2002: 99-100. 34 H.Foley 1994:104.

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woman is uncovered at her wedding but buried at her funeral. Because the change in status is reversible in the case of a wedding, Ferrari argues that it is not a rite of initiation such as incorporated boys into the hierarchy of the polis.36 Weddings nonetheless marked a change in social identity for the woman that revolved around her role in the reproduction of her husband's household. In much the same way as the Homeric poems provide a model for the warrior role that many young men would prepare to undertake in order to insure the survival of the community,37 the Hymn provides a paradigm that underscores the importance a woman's acquiescence to marriage has for the community. Though Persephone bears no children in the early versions of the myth, her acceptance of the marriage brings fertility back to the whole earth. This connection between agricultural produce and marriage is not limited to the Hymn. Additional support for a connection between marriage and the fertility of crops comes from Classical sources, which tell us that agricultural metaphor had a prominent position in the Athenian wedding ceremony.38 The metaphor linking a seed sleeping in the ground with a woman sleeping in the wedding chamber was also inverted in tragedy, which emphasized the death of a marriageable young woman as "a violation of both the natural and social order."39 The opening scene of the Hymn provides the most explicit evidence for an iconographic association between marriageable girls and flowers, as well as between the 35

Ferrari 2003: 36. Ferrari 2003: 38. 37 H. Foley [1994: 80] describes the narrative as "a female version of the heroic quest that plays a central role in Mediterranean and Near Eastern epic from as early as the Sumerian epic Gilgamesh" 38 Menander (Dyskolos 842-843); Plutarch (Advice to the Bride and Groom, 144b). For discussion of the metaphor, see: Svenbro 1993: 99; Vernant2006:171-172. 39 Ferrari 2003: 36. 36

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funeral and marriage rites for young women. Persephone, who has a face like a flower (KaAuKcoTTiBi, line 8), is snatched by Hades at the moment she plucks the flower that Gaia had provided as a trick (86Aov, line 8): r) 8' Spa 8anpr|aaa' copd^aTO XEpaiv ap' ancpco xaAov aOupna AC(|3ETV x a v E SE X^WV Eupudyuia Nuoiov an TTESIOV xfj opouaEV ava£ TroAuSEypcov 'ITTTTOIS aBavaToiai Kpovou TTOXUCOVUIJOJ 1/165. apird^as 8' otEKouaav ETTI xpuoEoiaiv oxoiaiv rjy' oAoqsupondvriv . .. (Hymn to Demeter 15-20)

She, amazed, reached out with both hands at the same time to take the lovely plaything, but the earth with wide paths gaped up to the Nysian plain. The all-receiving lord, son of famous Chronos hastened to her with his immortal horses and snatched the unwilling and sorrowful girl in his golden chariot.

Likening the flower to a toy emphasizes the swiftness of the transition from Persephone's status as a young girl to that of bride, and the association in the poem between maidens and flowers continues with the daughters of Keleos at Eleusis. They meet Demeter later in the Hymn, are similarly likened to flowers (lines 108 and 178), and then are blessed by the goddess, in the guise of an old woman, with wishes for fruitful marriages (lines 135137). This blessing is similar to the wish for good fortune that Odysseus bestows on Nausikaa {Od. 6.180-185), and Foley suggests that it may be traditional on occasions of meeting between strangers and young women.40 The sum of the details supports a traditional association between maidens on the verge of social reclassification through marriage and flowers that would have existed for contemporary viewers. Unlike the sequence of communal activities in which young men participated in preparation for entering warrior status, the majority of training a young girl would receive for her future role as wife and mother likely occurred privately at home.41 As we have

40

H.Foley 1994:43. This is not to say that young girls had no involvement in public rites. In addition to their regular participation in funerary rites, the Brauronia festival may have marked the transition to marriageable status, and women seem to have had autonomy in the Thesmophoria and Haloa (H. Foley 1994: 72-74; 104). They 41

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seen in the previous two chapters, the tales of heroes such as Perseus, Meleager and Herakles, popular in epic poetry and seventh- and sixth-century vase-painting, frequently pit young men against monsters. Such stories provide a paradigm for young men reaching an age when they may be called on to perpetuate their community through defending it. Young women, in contrast, are called on to perpetuate the community by acquiescing to marriage and ultimately becoming mothers. In depicting the "brother" as an athlete and the "sister" as a young woman ready for marriage, regardless of their size or real age at death, therefore, the stele provides both a reminder of the dual loss to the community and a model of expectation for the young boys and girls, who would be called on to take up these roles in order for the community to perpetuate its existence. Another Archaic Attic funerary monument provides evidence for a link between the iconography of the girl on the 'Brother and Sister' stele and the paradigm of female initiation into marriage given in the Hymn to Demeter. The kore for Phrasiklea (Figure 4.4) was discovered on a farm in Merenda in 1972,42 many years after its inscribed base, which had been built into a nearby church.43 The sculpture is replete with flowers. Not only does the kore hold a flower before herself with one hand in a gesture parallel to that of the "sister" on the New York stele, but she wears a crown of flowers, and her chiton is decorated with incised rosettes. Even more than the iconography, however, the inscription echoes the image of a girl on the verge of marriage as represented by Persephone in the Hymn. It reads:

do not, however, seem to have trained together in public (i.e. in full view of the living community) as boys did for choral and athletic competitions. 42 Mastrokostas 1972; Kakavoyiannis 2007. 43 IG I3 1261; Jeffery 1962: 138, no. 46.

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ae\ia OpaoiicXEias Kope KEKXeaoiaai aiEi, / &VTI ydno

(I am) the marker of Phrasikleia. I shall always be called kore, since I was allotted this name instead of marriage by the gods.

irapa 8EOV TOUTO

Aaxoa' ovopa. Apioriov : TTdpifos u' ETr]o[(E]aE

Aristion, the Parian, made me. (IG I3 1261)

As noted in Autenrieth and Keep's definition, ovoucc can be virtually synonymous with kleos,44 and Friedlander, drawing on a passage from the sixth-century poet Theognis, suggests that it should be taken as such in this inscription.45 The classification of "maiden," a specific role within the gendered hierarchy of Archaic Attica, becomes Phrasikleia's everlasting repute by virtue of the monument commemorating her death. Through the public display of the monument within sight of the community, moreover, the sculpture and accompanying inscription would be a reminder of the social role claimed by the family that Phrasikleia's death had made vacant. At the same time, it would represent "marriageable maiden" as a glorious classification for women in the gendered hierarchy of the community. The statue and inscription had the potential to remain visible to the living community long after the completion of the funeral. The state of preservation of the sculpture, most notably the pigmentation that is still currently visible, has suggested to scholars that this sculpture and the kouros buried with it only stood in the sun for a limited amount of time before being buried, likely to protect them. In contrast to Hurwit,

44

Autenrieth and Keep 1979: 209 cite Od. 13.248 and 24.93. Friedlander and Hoffleit 1948: 85, no. 80. Lines 244-245 (Young 1971 ed.) from Theognis are as follows: OUBETTOT' OU5E 6av&>v ccrroXeTs KXEOJ, dXXa \&kT\at\% / aq>6iTov avGpcbTroia' aiev e'xcov ovoua (Not even in death will you ever lose your repute, but you will be a care for men and always keep your undying onoma.) 45

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who cites the Persian invasion of Attica as the context under which the sculpture was buried,46 Jesper Svenbro argues that the pottery fragments discovered with the sculptures rule out burial in the pre-Persian War period.47 Svenbro thus prefers the Alcmeonid exile described by Isokrates,48 the same one cited by Richter regarding the destruction of the "Brother and Sister" stele,49 as the occasion calling for protective burial of the Phrasikleia kore. Richter, based on the state of preservation of fragments from the stele at the Metropolitan Museum, similarly argued for burial shortly after the monument had been set up. In contrast to the protective burial that scholars have argued for in the case of Phrasikleia, however, Richter argued that the stele for Me- and his sister was purposely destroyed before being buried.50 Whatever the specific circumstances that brought about the burial of these sculptures may have been, the commemoration documented by the monuments may have been worth protecting by some members of the community and worth destroying by others. The literary parallel from the Hymn to Demeter coupled with the iconographic and inscriptional parallels provided by the Phrasikleia kore suggest that the girl represented on the "Brother and Sister" stele is not intended to be interpreted as a child. The iconography of both figures draws on traditional referents derived from communal rites of initiation in order to locate their personae within the hierarchy of the community. Regardless of how old the pair were when they died or even if they represent a brother and sister, the burying group chose to represent them as socially integrated young adults: 46

Hurwitl985:334,n. 10. Svenbro 1993:12; cf. Mastrokostas 1972: 324. 48 Isokrates 16.26. 49 Richter 1944: 72-74. 50 Richter 1944: 72-74. 47

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the athlete suggests participation in festivals such as the Panathenaic Games held to celebrate Athens and her patron goddess, and the girl is represented as a marriageable young woman. The emphasis, therefore, is not so much on commemorating the pair as unique individuals, but rather on the loss to the community that results from their deaths. They are, moreover, the personification of idealized social roles for elite young men and women that were claimed by the burying group.

Commemorative Pottery and the Funeral The number of graves which contain vessels depicting mourners declines radically in the seventh and sixth centuries, and this phenomenon may suggest, via the connection between iconography and ritual, that commemoration of the deceased and commemoration of mourning activities had become separated to some degree in the Kerameikos cemetery.51 Only three seventh-century monuments (Appendix 1: cat. nos. 1, 6 and 8) and four sixth-century monuments (Appendix 1: cat. nos. 44, 72, 77 and 129) have vessels with mourners on them, and all come from either an offering trench or offering place, not the grave. No pottery depicting mourning activities of any kind have been found deposited in seventh- or sixth-century graves. Among the scattered finds in the Kerameikos that may originally have been displayed above-ground, in contrast, additional pottery types have been discovered, such as the loutrophoroi to which I shall turn shortly, that do depict mourning activities. The positive evidence is slight, but the 51 Systematic publication of grave assemblages from Archaic Attic cemeteries outside Athens is lacking. My discussion of the terracotta finds in particular thus will focus on the evidence from the Athenian Kerameikos with the caveat that the patterns observed in the Kerameikos may not hold true for other Attic cemeteries.

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negative evidence is striking and suggests that some distinction in iconography on commemorative objects was made between motifs associated with the deceased and other motifs associated with the performances of mourners, a distinction that does not seem to have existed for commemoration in the Early Iron Age. Pottery depicting the actions of mourners seem to have been restricted to the foci of mourning activity—offering trenches and offering places (Figure 2.5). The apparent contrast to Early Iron Age practices, in which vases with prothesis and mourning scenes were deposited in graves, may be a result of a modification to the ritual practices. In Early Iron Age burials, the site of lamentation and the funeral feast likely was the graveside. With the advent of offering trenches and offering places adjacent to the monument, the activities of mourners seem to have been separated from the grave itself. Similar to the monumental Late Geometric vases already addressed, the ritual deposition of pottery carrying images of mourners performing commemorative rites reinforces collective memory by producing the "double-encoding" described by Connerton.52 The twofold commemoration in the assemblage mimics the nature of the funeral itself in reflecting the relationship between the deceased and mourners. It is thus desirable, in terms of "documenting" collective memory, to deposit commemorative objects at the site of the activity that they are meant to recall to the minds of spectators. The black-figure vase painting technique dominates decorated pottery throughout the sixth century B.C., and, although Corinth has been credited with the invention of the technique, Corinthian vases appear less frequently in Athenian cemetery deposits as the

52

Connerton 1989: 27; Chapter 2: 98.

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Archaic period advances. Beazley's landmark studies that have attributed black-figure pottery to specific painters remain the dominant method of categorizing these objects and locating them within a relative chronology based on style.53 According to his chronology of style, the black-figure technique reaches full-development in Athens at the end of the seventh century. The technique continues to be used on vessels with ritual significance, such as the Panathenaic amphorae, long after the red-figure technique has passed out of practice.54 It is Attic black-figure pottery that is most commonly found in and on the monuments in the Kerameikos over the course of the sixth century.55 Black-figure loutrophoroi (vessels associated with carrying water for ritualized bathing), pinakes (terracotta plaques) and lekythoi (terracotta flasks) are all vase shapes with traditional funerary associations, but lekythoi are the only shape among these three that have been found deposited in the graves themselves in the Kerameikos. All three shapes have been discovered among the scattered finds, offering places and offering trenches, the ritual foci of mourning activity. They thus may have been added to the assemblage either at the time of the funeral or during future visits to the tomb. Whether goods deposited in the grave or displayed on top of it, these pottery shapes all fall into the category of supplemental objects and frequently carry decorative motifs connected to their ritual function. Prothesis and mourning/valediction scenes occupy the primary decorative zones of loutrophoroi and pinakes, while scenes of heroic exploit, warrior and athletic scenes, or Dionysiac activities take center stage on the black-figure lekythoi

53

Beazley 1978. Beazley 1986:2. 55 Beazley 1986:1-2. 54

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discovered in the Kerameikos. Orientalizing motifs do not entirely disappear from funerary iconography in the sixth century, but they tend to appear on the commemorative objects depicting a living persona (stone markers and lekythoi) more commonly than on objects representing mourning activities. Loutrophoroi and pinakes seem to be connected to the activities of mourners in particular, while the motifs on the black-figure lekythoi suggest a connection to communal activities in which the deceased (and/or members of the burying group) would or should have taken part. The iconography of these objects thus tends to separate them according to their commemorative objective within the larger assemblage: either the motifs derive from performative ritual undertaken by the burying group, or they derive from social rituals that classify personae within the gendered hierarchy of the community. As the case of the stone markers surveyed in the previous chapter suggests, commemorative objects placed above-ground are very susceptible to displacement from their original context, and this applies to pottery as well. Only two pinakes (one now lost) have a secure provenience in the Kerameikos,56 and fragments of six funerary and one nuptial loutrophoroi have been discovered among the scattered finds of the cemetery.57 Like the sculptures and inscribed bases discovered built into the Themistoklean wall, none of the loutrophoroi can be connected to a specific grave. The location of the fragments and their iconography suggest, however, that most, if not all, of the funerary loutrophoroi originated in grave assemblages. Additional Attic examples, undoubtedly 56

Kerameikos Inv. 677 (stolen) and 690 were found together in debris that Kunze-G6tte, et al. [1999] have attributed to Offering Trench 8 associated with the female and child graves 465 and 466 (Appendix 1: cat. no. 129; Lullies 1946/1947: 56). 57 Karydi 1963: 100-103 (Inv. no. 1673, 1681, 1680, 1682, 2523,1699 and 1697).

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created to be displayed in a cemetery, are known from museum collections but lack a secure provenience. Based on the system of classification pioneered by Beazley, however, scholars have been able to attribute both loutrophoroi and pinakes to known vase-painters in many cases, with the result that we are safe in assigning them an origin CO

in the same Attic workshops as other black-figure pottery. Like kouroi and korai, loutrophoroi and pinakes have been found in votive as well as funerary contexts. Unlike the statues, however, the iconography of the pottery is specifically tied to the ritual function of the objects, and distinguishes the funerary variety from the votive. Loutrophoroi, for example, are depicted in scenes of ritual bathing that occur during both weddings and funerals. Kurtz and Boardman have noted that the name, loutrophoros, comes from a passage in [Demosthenes] 44.18, and may derive from the person carrying the water vessel, rather than the vase shape itself. The iconography in the funerary and nuptial sub-categories of this shape is strikingly different. Black-figure funerary loutrophoroi are distinctive in that they typically have a prothesis scene in the central decorative zone, often supplemented with another mourning scene on the neck. The neck-scene on a vase by the Sappho Painter in the National Museum at Athens (Figure 4.5),59 for example, shows female mourners at a stylized tumulus, who have their arms raised in the same gesture as their Geometric predecessors (Figure 2.4). The vase standing on the tumulus, moreover, is a loutrophoros like the one on which the scene is depicted. A similar neck-scene on a loutrophoros in New York shows female 58

Lydos, for example, painted a funerary loutrophoros (Kerameikos Inv. 1673) as well as a pinax from Spata (Beazley 1978: 113.84) (Karydi 1963:94). 59 National Museum, Athens, no. 450. 60 Shapiro 2007: Figure 14, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, no. 27.228.

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mourners carrying a loutrophoros like the one on which the scene is depicted. In both cases, placement on a tomb would have reinforced collective memory of the ritual performances by the burying group. In reference to the cloth held over the coffin in a scene on the reverse of the vase in Athens, Wendy Closterman has recently argued for the significant role that textiles may have played in Attic burial ritual.61 She ultimately concludes that, [a]s a tomb marker, this loutrophoros, covered with a remarkably complete set of funerary scenes, not only would have memorialized the burial site of the deceased, but, by means of its depictions, it would have also memorialized the funerary rituals on behalf of the deceased.62 The purely commemorative function of this vase is made all the more likely by the fact that its base was open so that it could not have been used to carry water.63 The iconography of these vases virtually guarantees their placement in a funerary context, but their absence from graves suggests that this vessel shape would then have been placed on the tomb or offering place to commemorate the actions of the mourners. There is no way to confirm, however, whether such vessels were restricted to the graves of those who died unmarried, as the passage from [Demosthenes] stipulates.64 As already noted, pottery of any shape depicting mourners is, in fact, rarely deposited below-ground during the sixth century in the Kerameikos. The iconography of the pinakes, like that of the funerary loutrophoroi, follows the tradition of the Late Geometric grave markers in that they only depict the deceased, when 61

Closterman 2007. Lending support to her argument, though not cited in the article, is the fact that "[c]lear traces of the warp and the woof of the fabric were visible on some of the pieces of iron" in the "Warrior Burial" from the Classical Agora (Blegen 1952: 281). 62 Closterman 2007: 61. 63 Closterman 2007: 56. 64 Kurtz and Boardman 1971: 151-152.

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present, as a corpse. In addition to the two pinakes discovered in the Kerameikos, several others have been attributed to the adjacent context of the Classical Agora.65 A few more have a provenience in the Attic countryside, but most entered the antiquities market in the last century with little context beyond a general vicinity. The pinakes began to be produced at the end of the seventh century, and Boardman classified the known examples as from a series or single.66 Brooklyn subsequently revised this classification by dividing production of the plaques into three phases: a formative phase in the first half of the sixth century B.C. during which the plaques were produced in a variety of dimensions with and without attachment holes, a standardized phase (ca. 560-530/525 B.C.) when the plaques were made in series without attachment holes, and a final phase (ca. 530/525-480 B.C.) of single plaques often with attachment holes.67 They go out of use ca. 480 B.C., about the same time as the white-ground lekythos becomes common as a grave gift, a fact that Brooklyn suggests is connected to the use of the single plaques as grave gifts added to an existing monument.68 Some support for this hypothesis comes from the fact that whiteground lekythoi, unlike the black-figure variety found in Archaic grave contexts in the Kerameikos, do carry scenes of mourning activities similar to the scenes depicted on black-figure loutrophoroi and pinakes.

According to the study by Brooklyn [1981], the pinakes discovered in or near the Kerameikos are: Berlin Antiquarium, nos. F1811-1826 (fragments of up to 12 plaques in series); National Museum, Athens, nos. 2414-2417 (fragments thought to be from a series) and nos. 2410,2412-2413 (the 'Areios' series); Agora Museum, Athens, no. P20754 (thought to be from a series); Kerameikos Museum, Athens, nos. 690 and 677 (single plaques). 66 Boardman 1955. "Brooklyn 1981: 68-70. 68 Brooklyn 1981: 116.

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The range of themes depicted on this class of pottery suggests that they have much in common with the funerary loutrophoroi in terms of commemorative function. Compare, for example, the loutrophoros from the National Museum in Athens (Figure 4.5) with the black-figure funerary plaque in the Metropolitan Museum in New York (Figure 4.6). Both objects have a prothesis scene occupying the central decorative zone and a chariot race in a subordinate zone. As is the case with Late Geometric vases, the deceased only appears as a corpse, and it is uncertain whether the chariot races represent a part of the funerary rites or the claim to a particular social status for the deceased, although it should be stressed that this plaque is the only extant example with a subsidiary zone of decoration. All other surviving funerary pinakes have only a central decorative zone, and the motifs are limited to the ritual actions of mourners: prothesis, ekphora, mourning/valediction, and women mourning at home. According to SourvinouInwood, the scenes on the pinakes represent a shift toward "a smaller scale representation involving the deceased's family, and thus represented a less public, less community involved and more family-centered, death ritual."69 Such an interpretation, however, assumes that the plaques are the iconographic focus of the monument rather than one element within the commemorative assemblage, as I have been arguing here. While not so numerous as the number of warriors represented in friezes on Late Geometric vases, the number of men represented on the Archaic terracotta objects carrying valediction scenes (scenes of male figures only, apart from the prothesis with one or both arms raised in mourning) suggest that the rites commemorated may involve more than just immediate

69

Sourvinou-Inwood 1996: 276.

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family. Examples of objects with valediction scenes include the Areios pinax (Figure 4.7) and a black-figure plate (Figure 4.8) from Offering Place 42 in the Kerameikos, which depict ten and five men respectively. The hypothesis that the plaques originally had been mounted on built tombs was put forward early and broadly accepted by scholars.70 Richter argued that the popularity of the pinakes was connected to a perceived decline in sculptural production at the end of the sixth century, citing legislation described by Cicero (De Leg. 2.26.64-65) that she attributed to Solon.71 No pinakes or potential mounting devices for them have been discovered on the built tombs, however, and Brooklyn has proposed that the single plaques at least may have been hung on stelai or some other type of marker.72 The two plaques discovered in the Kerameikos are both single plaques and were found together in debris, which Knigge has attributed to an offering trench connected with the grave of a woman as previously mentioned.73 Each pinax carries a prothesis scene, as does the clay phormiskos from the same context. The corpse depicted on the phormiskos is labeled with the name Myrina.74 The presence of attachment holes suggests that the pinakes could have hung on display for a period of time before deposition in the trench, but it is unlikely that they were ever mounted on a built tomb.

'"Richter 1942; Boardman 1955: 52; Beazley 1986: 65. Richter 1942 and 1945. Brooklyn [1981: 59-60; 141-142] alternatively suggests birth and death taxes said to have been instituted by Hippias as well as the Persian War may have influenced the perceived decline in sculpture (cf. Aristotle, Economics 1347.a.l6). But subsequent scholarship, as we have seen, suggests that there was no such decline in sculptural production (Chapter 3: 162-164). "Brooklyn 1981: 81-85;Boardman 1955: 51. 73 Appendix 1: cat. no. 129; Lullies 1946/1947: 56, Taf. 1. 74 Lullies 1946/7: 65, Taf. 13. 71

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Several plaques have painted inscriptions identifying the figures in the various scenes. One of the series plaques seems to include part of a dactylic hexameter inscription of the epitaphic formula, tode sema . . . , already discussed with regard to its appearance in Homer.75 The preserved portion of the inscription reads:. . .- vo$ ; aiua T 6 5 ' EOTI

= a/ApEio (Figure 4.7).76 It is uncertain whether Areios is a personal name or

an adjective, but the epitaphic inscription, in conjunction with the mourning figures, supports the use of the plaque series as part of a funerary assemblage. While a prothesis is absent from the surviving fragments, both Boardman and Brooklyn hypothesize that it must have been represented on a missing plaque.77 Other formulaic elements familiar from earlier funerary iconography, however, are present. Underneath the inscription is a double row of male mourners. Although decorated in the black-figure technique, the linear arrangement and single-arm-raised valediction gesture attests to ritual tradition continuing from the Late Geometric period.78 As on the funerary loutrophoroi, formulaic scenes of funerary ritual connect the plaques to the actions of mourners. The deceased, while always represented as a corpse in a generic prothesis scene, can be made specific through the addition of dipinti such as the one on the Areios plaque. Specific names, however, only appear on six of the 36 single plaques or plaque series collected in Brooklyn's catalog; a plaque now in the Louvre in

Chapter 1:38-41. Boardman 1955: 60. Boardman 1955: 60; Brooklyn 1981: 80-81. For the gesture on Geometric vases, see Ahlberg-Cornell [1971: 265].

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Paris labels the figures with kinship terms only (Figure 4.9). The addition of the kinship terms does not prevent the pinax scene from being generic but is particularly illuminating with regard to the ritual actions of mourners around the bier that had been composed in much the same way in Attic vase painting since the Late Geometric period. Boardman, indicating the kinship labels, describes the scene as follows: Among the approaching men one is the brother (AAEAOOE): they are greeted by the father (IIATEP), who faces them at the foot of the bier .. . The mother (METEP) holds her dead son's head, and beside her is her second daughter (AAEAOE). At the head of the bier stands the grandmother (®E®E), and three other mourning women are each designated aunts (©EEIS), one of them on the father's side (ITPOmATP[02).8° The labeled scene thus supports and clarifies the traditional gestures and the placement of figures around the bier. The mourning gestures of women are conventional, as is the placement of women and children related to the deceased nearest the bier. Although the deceased is male on both the Areios and Louvre pinakes, the full catalog of extant examples suggests that these objects complemented the assemblages of women as often as those for men. Of the 24 plaques depicting a prothesis scene, the gender of the corpse has been identified as female on ten of them and male on six.81 Though we can never know how faithfully the scenes represent the deceased and his or her familial ties, the

"National Museum, Athens, nos. 12352, 2410, 2412-2417; Antiquarium, Berlin, nos. F1811-1826; Louvre, Paris, no. MNB 905, kinship terms only; Paris Market (no number); Serpieri-Vlasto Collection, Athens (no number), names and kinship terms. See also, Boardman 1955: 58 and 63, nos. 3 and 39. 80 Boardman 1955: 62, no. 28. 81 Female corpse: Metropolitan Museum, New York, 14.146.3a and b (series); Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, 27.146 and 147 (series); Louvre, Paris, CA 255; Brussels Museum A5,6 and 7 (series); Antiquarium, Berlin, F1811-1826 (series); Skulpturensammlung, Dresden, 814; Serpieri-Vlasto Collection, Athens, MVB 52 + Allard Pierson Museum, Amsterdam, 1366; Walters Art Gallery, Baltimore, no number; Kerameikos Museum, Athens, 677; David and Alfred Smart Gallery, Chicago, no number. Male corpse: National Museum, Athens, 2410, 2412-2413 (series); Vienna Museum, no number; Metropolitan Museum, New York, 54.11.15; National Museum, Copenhagen, no number; Brussels Museum, A 3369; Louvre, Paris, MNB 905. For additional details, see Brooklyn 1981: 162-219, nos. 2, 3, 6, 8, 9, 11, 14, 15,18, 21, 22,23 and 28.

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indication of specific relationships and names through inscription remove the suggestion of the depiction of a scene from Homer that persists for Late Geometric representations. The pinakes with specific names given to the figures presumably must have been completed at some point after the funeral, given the time that would be required for the potter and painter to produce what must have been commissioned works. The plaques found in the trench in the Kerameikos did not carry labels for the figures, but, as already mentioned, the phormiskos accompanying them did (Figure 4.1). Not only does the specific name make it unlikely that the vase was produced before burial, it also raises the question of when the offering trench ritual would have been performed. The inclusion of commissioned pottery suggests that it would not have been part of the burial portion of the rites if the prothesis was restricted to a single day.82 The specification of the roles that kin play in funerary rites on objects commemorating those rites supports the view that citizens of Archaic Athens were concerned with the display of family relationships at the funeral and reinforcing memory of ritual performances through the use of commemorative objects. The deceased, therefore, is not the only target of commemoration within the assemblage. Although the dominant position of representation within the assemblage likely would have been reserved for the deceased, supplemental objects were used to reinforce memory of performances by mourners. The rituals performed by the burying group are reinforced in collective memory through terracotta objects decorated with motifs derived from the

82

[Demosthenes] 43.62 attributes a law to Solon in which the ekphora is prescribed to occur on the day following the prothesis, which generally has been interpreted to mean that the prothesis was limited to a single day (Garland 2001: 26).

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rituals themselves and displayed at the site of performance. The juxtaposed representations of the persona of the deceased and the rites performed by mourners within the monumental assemblage perpetuate communal memory of the transfer of social roles from the deceased to members of the burying group. The monument which provides a focus for the rites themselves thus becomes an instrument for renewing and transmitting knowledge of the identity of survivors that is constructed in relation to the deceased.83 In contrast to the black-figure loutrophoroi and pinakes, black-figure lekythoi are commonly found in sixth-century graves as well as at the foci of ritual activities performed by mourners. Unlike both their Late Geometric predecessors and their whiteground descendants that become common as grave goods during the Classical period,84 however, mourning scenes are entirely absent from the black-figure examples discovered in the Kerameikos. Instead of inspiration from funerary rites, these vases seem to derive their motifs to a large degree from the heroic paradigm and social rituals of the living community as separate from funerals. Although there seems to be a connection between the decoration of sixth-century black-figure lekythoi and the heroic paradigm, there also seems to be a shift in iconographic focus when compared to seventh-century Orientalizing vases. The shift, like the absence of mourning scenes from objects placed in the graves, may be connected to a modification of the ritual practices from which the motifs are derived. 83

While the prothesis scene may identify close family members, it admittedly does little to represent the social persona of the deceased. If the plaques were in fact hung on stelai or part of the terracotta assemblage adorning a built tomb, however, it may have been unnecessary for the plaques themselves to represent the persona if it was provided by a statue or stele. 84 For example, the white-ground lekythos showing mourners at the tomb (Figure 3.9).

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Hybrid monsters and heroic trials do not entirely disappear, but direct representation of communal activities—battle, athletics and ritual activities—becomes very common on lekythoi deposited in both graves and offering trenches in the Kerameikos cemetery during the sixth century B.C. The shift in thematic emphasis of motifs on the objects placed in adult graves, moreover, may reflect a shift in the social rituals that were the mechanism of classification in the Late Archaic social structure of the city. The increased prominence of athletic competition and Dionysiac rituals that have been attributed to Peisistratid promotion of festivals that already existed on a smaller or more rural scale85 results in new motifs that are put into the service of locating the deceased within the gendered social hierarchy. Although many cults rose to new prominence in the Archaic period, "none grew so explosively as that of Dionysos."86 Seaford has argued for an increase in rites that have both rural and city foci, such as the rites for Dionysus Eleuthereus and the Eleusinian Mysteries, during the sixth century that was integral to polis development.87

85

Shapiro [1989: 86] argues that the Peisistratids did not establish new cults but rather expanded some that were already well established early in the sixth century B.C. 86 Shapiro 1989: 84. 87 Seaford [1994: 243-248] has argued for an increase in rites that have both rural and city foci, such as the rites for Dionysus Eleuthereus and the Eleusinian Mysteries, during the sixth century that was integral to polis development.

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Inscription The extant evidence suggests that some early gravestones may have lacked inscriptions entirely,88 although others may have included a dipinto on the stele itself as was painted on the sixth-century marble stele of Antiphanes (Figure 3.3).89 Along with the increase in marble sculpture, inscribed bases for funerary markers also become more common in Athenian cemeteries. The question of when the use of writing began in Attica is still an open one, but surviving inscriptions and dipinti on vases suggest that the use of writing had become common in these two media at least by the middle of the sixth century B.C.90 The earliest example of Greek writing in Attica, the Dipylon oinochoe dated by Jeffery to the second half of the eighth century, was in fact discovered in an Athenian grave,91 but the earliest, extant, inscribed gravestone, the aforementioned stele of Keramo, does not appear until about 100 years later. The most complete evidence for the development of the use of writing in Attica, however, fills out the sequence to some extent. The collection of inscribed sherds from the Mount Hymettos sanctuary includes examples dated to ca. 700 B.C.92 There is a high frequency of so-called "egraphse" and "abecedaria" inscriptions on the early sherds dedicated as votive offerings, which Langdon attributes to the novelty of the alphabet in the early seventh century. He explains "the fact that the dedication happened to be on a 88

The poros stele with linear decoration may have lacked an inscription (Figure 3.6), and the stele bases found in situ seem to have been sunk into the mound and so lack an inscription (Appendix 1: cat. no. 12 and 16). 89 IG I3 1230, National Museum, Athens, no. 86. 90 See Jeffery and Johnston [1990: 1-21] and Sass [2005:133-152] for a discussion of the possible origins of the Greek alphabet. M. Langdon [1976: 47] suggests that writing may have come to Athens by way of Aigina. 91 Jeffery, however, doubted that the inscription on it was Attic and suggested that someone who had come from Posideion may have written it instead (Jeffery and Johnston 1990: 16). 92 M. Langdon 1976.

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mere sherd mattered little: it was the writing itself which was the gift." In this period at least, inscription seems to be an attribute that can make an ordinary object special. Although the Dipylon oinochoe was found in a grave, the inscription, written retrograde around the body of the vase does not specify the object as a grave gift. The inscription begins with a dactylic hexameter line, which has prompted some scholars to connect it with epic.94 The vase itself is unremarkable, but the subject of the epigram is someone who excels at dancing. It thus has been proposed that the jug was a prize in a dancing contest or indicated involvement of the deceased in a particular cult, for which dancing was part of the ritual activities.95 The depiction of a stag and bird on the jug prompted Lilian Lawler to suggest a connection with an Athenian cult of Artemis.96 After the introductory relative clause, however, the second line is uncertain, which led Jeffery to suggest that it may have been inscribed by a different hand.97 Regardless of the meaning of the second line, the mere presence of the inscription certainly would have made the vase a special object among the assemblage of grave goods in much the same way as the sherds inscribed with abecdaria and dedicated at the Mt. Hymettos sanctuary would have been special. But since the inscription was scratched onto the surface of the finished vase, rather than painted on before firing, it is unlikely that the vase originally was created as a prize vessel in the manner of later Panathenaic amphorae. The initial hexameter line of the inscription on the jug shares the meter of the more elaborate early epitaphs, such as the one already examined in conjunction with the 93

M. Langdon 1976: 46. Or perhaps the writing made the sherd a gift. Friedlander and Hoffleit 1948: 54-55, no. 53. 95 Friedlander and Hoffleit 1948: 54-55, no. 53. 96 Lawlerl947:51. 97 Jeffery and Johnston 1990: 68. 94

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kore for Phrasikleia. But even elaborate epitaphs are not replete with individualizing details. The inscription rather enhances the statue as the depiction of a social ideal. The inscription accompanying the kouros for Kroisos (Figure 4.10, cf. Figure 3.8), for example, in addition to providing the name of the deceased likens his social persona to the heroic paradigm through correlation of the visual features of the sculpture with the linguistic features in the inscription." Although Jeffery judged the inscription inferior to the well-ordered physical features of the kouros, there are indications that the inscriber attempted to mirror the nature of the statue with the inscription in verse on the base. Word divisions at the end of lines are respected, and each letter lines up over the corresponding one in the line below it whenever it does not split up a word. The result is that the inscription achieves a visual order that combines with the auditory order of the poetic composition. The kouros and inscribed base thus reflect the emphasis on patterning that Hurwit has argued is characteristic of Archaic Greek thought.100 As a supplemental element of the funerary monument, the inscription documents the name of the deceased, emphasizes a sense of order, and also creates an analogy to mythic heroes through the use of epic vocabulary. The word promachois (fighters in the front line), in particular, is familiar from the Iliad}01 As emphasized by Mary Stieber, who argues that the Kroisos kouros was created in accordance with the ideal physique indicated by descriptions in the Homeric poems, promachos is a poetic word and not used

98

IGI 3 1240 and 1261. Statue and base: National Museum, Athens no. 3851 and 4754; inscription: IG I3 1240; Jeffery, 1962: 143 no. 57. 100 Hurwit 1985: 257. 101 Examples include: x^>Pr\aav 5' UTTO TE Trpouctxoi KCCI 9ai8iMos "Eicxcop (The front-fighters and shining Hektor gave way) at//. 4.505, 16.588, and 17.316. 99

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by prose authors.

Like the lion combat scene on the kouros base discussed in the

previous chapter (Figure 3.15), the inscription does not compare Kroisos to a mythical hero directly. The comparison is indirect, casting the dead man as a mortal counterpart to the heroic model. The monument for Kroisos, therefore, would have claimed a particular role in society for the male members of his family and served as a model for subsequent generations to fulfill that same role. The inscription accompanying the Phrasikleia kore would provide a similar generic paradigm for women. Like the inscription for Kroisos, Phrasikleia's name is the only truly individual detail. The rest of the inscription reinforces the representation of what the burying group has lost, a young woman about to become a bride and mother, a social role that must remain occupied in order for a living community to reproduce itself. Inscription also permitted elements of the lament to be incorporated in the monument, so that oral tradition could transmit the name of the deceased beyond the burial attendees. In the Odyssey, Agamemnon claimed that the prizes set out by Thetis during the funeral games as well as the monument for Achilles would perpetuate his name indefinitely, but this would only occur if the objects continued to be linked to the oral tradition preserved in epic poetry.103 Archaic Attic monuments, in contrast, were often supplemented with an inscription attesting to the collective memory created by the performance of the lament during the funerary rites. Collective memory of identity, furthermore, would be renewed and transmitted through subsequent visits family members made to the tomb, even among family members who never knew the deceased 102 103

Stieber 2005/2006: 5. Od. 24.80-94.

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personally. Joseph Day draws on the encomiastic tradition preserved in Pindar in order to argue that funerary sculpture and epitaphs both praise the deceased and commemorate the funerary ritual.104 He furthermore argues that "the prominence they [prose epitaphs] give the dead person's name confirms that memorialization of an important individual was the monument's central function."105 This seems to hold true in many simple inscriptions, but the variation regarding named individuals in the epitaphs suggests that the deceased as a unique individual is not the only target of commemoration. The deceased, in fact, may not be named at all. There are approximately 100 Archaic Attic epitaphs dated to before ca. 480 B.C., and they do not give extensive biographical details.106 The simplest ones give only the name of the deceased in the genitive case.107 The use of the genitive case seems to imply the common epitaphic phrase already discussed in relation to Homer, "this is or I am (EIUI / eon) the marker (ofjucc / uvfjucc / orr|Ar|) of X."108 The name of the father of the deceased is also frequently given, either in the genitive case as well or in the nominative case as the person who erected the monument. Whoever sets up the monument, relative or not, frequently also has a prominent position in the epitaph. IG I 1266 is an extreme example in which the father who commissioned the monument is named, while his

104

Day 1989. Day 1989: 17. 106 This estimate is based on the IG I3 corpus. The level of detail preserved varies, however, and many inscriptions do not preserve any legible details. 107 IG I 3 1195,1209,1217,1230, 1230bis (+ rim), 1232 (+ sculptor's name), 1244,1246,1247,1256 (+ sculptor's name) and 1368 (+ ethnic). IG I3 1252 and 1272 are exceptions that seem to give the name of the deceased in the nominative. 108 Chapter 1:40. 105

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deceased children remain anonymous.

The sculptor's name is also given in many

cases, a few of which include proud boasts.110 Stewart suggests that the signatures may be connected to Solonian encouragement of artisans.111 It may also be regarded as selfadvertisement, but presumably the person commissioning the inscription could prohibit such an addition if it was felt to detract from the status represented by the monument. It seems possible that the opposite was true, namely that a statue by a well-known sculptor would enhance the status perpetuated by the statue. In the inscriptions for both Kroisos and Phrasikleia the names of their fathers are strikingly absent. Svenbro, however, endorses a connection to the Alkmeonid clan for Phrasikleia based on the frequency of £/eos-derived names in their lineage and interprets her name as "she-who-pays-attention-to-£/eos."112 He subsequently identifies two avenues of immortality in ancient Greek culture, kleos and procreation, and notes that for "those who do not accomplish an exploit so great as to match the heroes of the oral tradition, procreation is the only means of achieving immortality."113 The idea of procreation as an avenue to immortality is elaborated through an analysis of the onomastic traditions preserved in the literary and epigraphic evidence from ancient Greece, in which the naming of children commemorates the exploits of their father.114

109

Jeffery 1962: 136, no. 41. IG I3 1251 commemorating a woman (
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Among the Archaic Attic examples, Svenbro singles out the children of Themistokles: "Arkhe-ptolis 'who governs the city,' Mnesi-ptolema 'who remembers the war,' Nikomakhe 'victorious battle,' and Asia 'Asia' are all names that could well have been epithets for Themistokles himself, charting the various stages of his career, including his exile."

The choice of cemetery and location of the monument within the cemetery

likely would have been sufficient for community members to recognize the family of the deceased. If commemorative naming practices were being practiced among elites as Svenbro has proposed, the name of a child like Kroisos or Phrasikleia may have been a clear indication of the father, rendering inclusion of the father's name unnecessary.116 Even without being named, therefore, the reputation of his household would be reinforced in collective memory through the monument for a dead child. Given the testimony of Classical literary sources that sons were expected to bury their fathers,117 we would expect to find some evidence of sons setting up monuments for their fathers among surviving Archaic epitaphs. There are, however, only two extant inscriptions from the Archaic period that seem to have been set up by children for their deceased father.118 IG I3 1226 was inscribed on a base that may have held an equestrian statue119 and reads: qc[i]yX^E —c.io EpuXi'So ho T68E ak\ia, / TTOTSES ETToiEoav [ME]T[P]6S E
The shining [mnema?] of-erylidos, whose monument his children [or sons?] made at the

115

Svenbro 1993: 77. Examples of Archaic Attic epitaphs lacking the name of the father of the deceased are numerous and include: IGI 3 1194bis, 1200, 1203bis, 1204, 1206, 1208, 1210, 1230, 1230bis, 1232, 1234, 1240, 1241, 1244, 1246,1247, 1248, 1256, 1261, 1263, 1272,1349, and 1368. IG I3 1214, however, provides an example of a boy given the name of his grandfather, a practice that has broader attestation during the Classical period but likely was active earlier as well. 117 Isaios 2.10. 118 IGI 3 1225 and 1226. 119 Jeffery 1962: 122n.l4. 116

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(IG I31226)

command of their mother.

Neither the mother or the children are named, but what survives of the inscription makes it clear that a wife and children survived this man.120 In contrast to the lack of inscriptions suggesting that the monument had been set up by a child for a parent, many inscriptions explicitly state the reverse.121 These children are not young, in terms of representation at least, but adolescents or adults with one or both parents still living. The transfer of social roles and property to the next generation, the perpetuation of the household, thus would have been incomplete. The high value placed on successful inter-generational transfer of social standing and property in Athenian culture is suggested by Herodotos' description of Tellos, whom he identifies as the most fortunate of men. When questioned by the Phrygian king, Kroisos at his court, Solon names Tellos as the most fortunate man because he had surviving children and grandchildren before dying honorably in war.122 This is not to say that men like Tellos would be denied funerary rites, but rather that relationships among surviving kin will already have been well-established so that his death is unlikely to result in a challenge to claims of civic status or property.123 This story represents an ideal succession of generations in which Tellos was able to secure the civic standing of his household through the following generation. In large part this would have been accomplished through the performance of communal rituals that would have established

120

It is not uncommon for women setting up the monuments to go unnamed (IG I3 1206,1210 and 1213). IGI 3 1196, 1206, 1211, 1213, 1214, 1215, 1218,1220, 1241,1249,1251 (likely), 1257,1263 and 1266. 122 Herodotos, 1.30 123 The erection of a monument where he fell likely projects a post-Battle of Marathon honor back into the Archaic period (cf. Thucydides 2.34). 121

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the identity of his children in the collective memory of the community. Tellos would have presented his children to his phratry (a division of citizens), and displayed their relation through participation in public festivals from the level of the deme to that of the broader polis community, and through familial rituals such as marriages and funerals. The value of such ritual displays for creating collective memory of identity becomes explicit in the court speeches preserved from the Classical period at Athens. In Isaios 8, for example, Kiron's grandsons give the following account as evidence of their lineage (and right to inherit): 'HHET E£ EOUTOO 6uyaTp6s,

OOSETTCOTTOTE 8uaiav CXVEU riuoov o08E|iiav ETrornaEV, aXX' E'ITE uiKpa E'I'TE nEyaXa 8uoi, TravTaxoO TrapfjiaEV l^peis Kai OUVE8UO|JEV. Kai ou Uovov Ei5 Ta ToiauTa TrapEKaXouuE6a, dXAa Kai E15 Aiovuaia E15 ctypov fiyEvdEi rinaj, Kai HET' EKEIVOU TE EGECOPOUHEV Ka6riiiEuoi Trap' auxov Kai Taj Eopraj riyouEv irap' EKEIVOV Tfdoa^' (Isaios 8.15-16)

So then, there is other evidence in addition to this that we are able to state so that you may recognize that we are the children of Kiron's daughter. As is reasonable, given that we are his daughter's children, he did not ever make a single sacrifice without us. Whether small or large, we were present on every occasion and sacrificed together. Not only were we summoned for such occasions, he also took us with him to the country for the Dionysia, and we celebrated all the festivals at his side.

Joint participation in rituals for the household, deme and polis establishes knowledge of identity in the collective memory of different levels of community. Joint performances at deme and polis festivals display identity in relation to preceding generations in the broader community, as well as for family beyond the immediate household. Tellos' good fortune was to see the identity of his children and grandchildren firmly established in the living community so that his household would continue after his death. If a man's children died before any grandchildren reached maturity, as is implied in the many examples of parents setting up monuments for deceased adult or near-adult children, the transfer of social roles and property (the perpetuation of his household)

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would be less certain.124 Legal guardians might be family members by default or specified in a will, and, in spite of laws protecting the interests of their wards, they might put their own interests ahead of perpetuating the household of the deceased.125 Five speeches of Demosthenes are the result of his legal action to regain his patrimony during the Classical period after abuses on the part of his guardians.126 If Demosthenes had been of an age to have his own children at the time his father died, there would have been no disruption of the transfer of the household to the succeeding generation. He would have been recognized as the heir to his father's social roles and property in the collective memory of the community before his father died. The erection of a monument by a parent provided a visible reminder of the loss of a direct heir through which his or her replacement could be ritually negotiated in subsequent performances at the tomb. The inscriptions naming a parent, particularly a father, who has lost a child or children thus testify to a potential gap in generational succession that would need to be filled in some way for the household to continue. The iconography and inscription of the monumental assemblage aids the surviving community in negotiating the loss of productive members by providing a model of the social role(s) and status to be replaced. The new heir, whether biological or adopted sibling of the deceased, or a more distant relation, would be able to reinforce his identity in the collective memory of the

The case of epikleroi is slightly more complicated, as she would not inherit the property herself but might instead be the conduit through which it was passed to a grandson. For a more detailed treatment of the epiklerate than is given in the references in Chapter 2: 101, n. 44, see Schaps 1981:25-47. Patterson [1998: 98] provides a useful diagram of the sequence of claims to inheritance through female family members in Athens. 125 MacDowell 1978: 92-95. 126 Demosthenes 27-31.

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community through subsequent ritual performed at the tomb such as the Genesia. Once both father and grandfather had died, funerary ritual would be the only opportunity to display and thus reinforce awareness of paternal affiliation in the living community. Surviving epitaphs suggest that elaborate stone monuments may have been set up more frequently when the transfer of social roles and property from one generation to the next would be susceptible to challenge. Further support for this assertion comes from the significant number of extant inscriptions that originally accompanied the funerary monuments for women and metics. As previously discussed, one of the reasons the LoDagaa gave for an extended period of time during which the body was kept on view was so that members of the community would have the opportunity to recognize on sight a deceased individual whom they would not know by name.128 A similar situation may have been common regarding female citizens in Archaic Attica whose social roles generally would not bring them into frequent contact with male citizens outside of their immediate family.129 Funerary monuments for women would allow survivors, especially heirs, to reinforce visually collective memory of the relation displayed during the funeral through subsequent ritual performances at the tomb. This would be particularly important when there were few members of the household (primarily adult men) whose identity was well-known in the living community. Whitley, in particular, has pointed to an apparent decline in rich female graves during the seventh century as compared to Early Iron Age burials such as the "Boots 127

Herodotos 4.26; see Chapter 2: 94, n. 26. This possibility was considered particularly relevant in the case of deceased children (Goody 1962:98). 129 Hesiod (Works and Days, 519-524) describes the ideal bride as a neighbor girl, who has been kept locked away with her mother. 128

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Grave."130 It is worthwhile to note, however, that this may only apply to goods deposited in a small number of graves dated to the seventh century and may not remain valid when the entire commemorative assemblage is taken into account. The poverty of the grave goods, furthermore, may apply equally to the graves of men. Kiibler remarks that grave goods are not so reliable an indicator of gender as they had been in the Early Iron Age. When he does assign gender to a seventh-century grave, he does so based on the nature of the marker or goods attributed to an offering place as often as on goods buried with the deceased.131 The earliest inscribed Attic gravestone, the stele of Keramo discovered in the vicinity of the Olympieion, has been dated to the seventh century (ca. 650 B.C.) and commemorated a woman.132 Funerary sculpture represents a significant commemorative investment, one that continues to be made in a select number of women throughout the sixth century, as attested by the extant bases for funerary sculpture. Ten of the 69 funerary inscriptions from Attica in IG I3 for which the gender of the deceased is relatively certain commemorate women.133 The number of elaborate female graves is not high in any period, and I suggest that these inscribed statue bases represent a commemorative investment comparable to the "rich" female burials from the Early Iron Age such as the "Boots Grave." Only the inscription for the stele of Keramo has been dated to the seventh century. The lack of any inscribed bases for men suggests that the sparse burial record for the seventh century is a general phenomenon and may not be 130

Whitley 1996. For the "Boots Grave," see Chapter 2: 101-102. KUbler 1959: 85. ,32 Jeffery 1962: 129. 133 IG I 3 1194,1205,1209,1229,1241 (brother and sister together), 1248,1251,1261,1265 (brother and sister together), and 1380. 131

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indicative of the disappearance of elaborate female burials. The low number of burials attributed to the seventh century in the Kerameikos may instead have its roots in the clearing and redefinition of the area that became the Classical Agora to be discussed in the final chapter, as well as in the long history of the cemetery that was continuously redefined as the living community reproduced itself. There are also a significant number of surviving inscriptions from funerary monuments for metics, the free, but non-citizen class of resident aliens in Athens. The foreigners we know of are most commonly artisans, but IG I3 1380 suggests foreign status for a woman by saying that she died away from her fatherland (9avoaccv . . . yes cmo TraTpo'iEt;). We cannot tell from the inscription, however, if she was the wife of an Athenian citizen or had some entirely different social role in sixth-century Athens. The muse-informed poet of the Iliad tells the audience that Myrina's name had been forgotten among living men in spite of her prominent burial mound (//. 2.811-814).13 She was a foreigner at Troy and lacked family in the local community, who would have an interest in perpetuating her memory. Metics in Archaic Athens similarly would have had a limited family network in the living community, and yet they could possess significant wealth. Several extant inscriptions clearly identify the foreign status of the deceased, generally through the addition of an ethnic.135 Although the original sculptures are lacking, the inscribed blocks from their bases suggest that someone went to considerable expense to commemorate these people at Athens.

Chapter 1:51-52. IG I3 1344, 1349,1357, 1365, 1366, 1368 and 1372.

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The inscription for the Naxian Anaxilas is particularly interesting in this regard. The block has a shallow rectangular cutting on its top surface, which led Franz Willemsen to suggest that it originally supported a smaller plinth for either a stele or sculpture.

The inscription reads:

SaicpuoEV TTOAUTTEV9£S AvaxaiAa e8' oAocp | uSvov Adivov EOTBKa pvina KaTatpBi | MEVO Na X oio 6v TIEOKOV ABEvaToi yExdoiicov EX | oo X a ooq>poauvEs EVEKEV E8' dpETEj TO, M' ETT. TlM I opa X o S yepapov icrepas oTa 6avovri OEKEV A|p.oTovo5 TTa.6, xapiCouEvos 3j

I stand as the tearful, mournful and lamenting gravestone of dead Anaxilas, the Naxian, whom t h e Athenians honored as a metic especially for h i s m o d e r a t i o n md exce llence. Timomachos set me

r e v e r e n t fu

deadsonofAriston.137

ift t 0

tify t h e

The nationality of the deceased is clearly identified in the inscription with the added detail that the Athenians honored him as a metic. The exact meaning and significance of this phrase at the end of the sixth century continues to be debated by scholars,138 but the phrase, "honored as a metic," certainly seems to imply some sort of special status. As far as the social classification of a metic goes, Keiji Baba separates Archaic metaoikos as "immigrant" from Classical metoikos as foreigner or ally living in the Athenian polis and suggests that the arete (excellence) in the context of this inscription should be interpreted as military virtue and is a reference to some action that Anaxilas performed in support of

136

Willemsen 1963: 141-145, no. 11. Papadopoulos [with Smithson 2002: 188], in an article that sets out some of the archaeological evidence for the presence of resident aliens in Early Iron Age Athens, provides an alternate translation of IG I31357 that conveys well the special circumstances claimed for Anaxilas: "Here I stand, fraught with grief, sorrow, and lamentation, the monument of the deceased Anaxilas, the Naxian immigrant whom Athenians esteemed outstandingly for his prudence and virtue. Timomachos erected this majestic funerary gift (yEpapov KTEpas) as a kindness to the son of Ariston, who had died." 138 Although both Baba [1984: 4] and Bakewell [1997: 221] deny that Anaxilas would have enjoyed any special status in life, Papadopoulos points out that Whitehead [1977: 145] reasonably argued against a sudden institution of metoikia at the time of Kleisthenes and, furthermore, that there is substantial archaeological evidence for foreign residents in Athens that predate any reforms by Solon or Kleisthenes (Papadopoulos and Smithson 2002: 189). 137

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the new Kleisthenic democracy.139 The inscription connects the honor of Anaxilas' metic status to his arete and sophrosune (moderation), qualities particularly claimed by the elite citizen class at Athens. Hurwit, furthermore, has connected both of these terms to the characterization of Athenian sculpture, but of sculpture in different eras. He sees arete as representing the "old aristocratic ideal" of the Archaic kouros with its enigmatic smile, and sophrosune typified by unsmiling, early Classical sculptures like the Kritios Boy and Blond Boy.140 Whether Anaxilas enjoyed some special status or not, Timomachos, who claims credit for setting up the monument, apparently felt that qualities valued by the Athenian elite should be applied to the Naxian commemorated in their cemetery. This inscription prompts a number of questions: What was Timomachos' relationship to Anaxilas? Why did he go to the expense of commissioning the monument? The final line of the inscription suggests that Timomachos was not a blood relative. Was he a business partner or Anaxilas' Athenian prostates (sponsor)? The nature of their relationship is uncertain. By claiming credit for setting up the monument as a son was expected to do for a father, however, Timomachos may also have been documenting a claim to the status and/or property of Anaxilas at Athens. The monument presumably would reinforce the relationship between the men that had been displayed during the funeral by providing a visual reminder just outside the living community, where it would be continuously available to bolster collective memory of their relationship.

Baba 1984. Hurwit 1985: 344.

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Conclusion The Archaic funerary monument in Athenian cemeteries is not limited to a single object with a single aspect. It is instead a multi-dimensional "document" of collective memory built from a generic social classification supplemented with traditional motifs derived from popular social rituals. The target of commemoration, moreover, is twofold: the persona of the deceased on the one hand and the ritual performance of mourners on the other. The nature of the monument thus mimics the nature of the funeral itself as it reinforces collective memory of the relationship between deceased and survivors through "double encoding."141 Not all members of the community receive an equal commemorative investment. The "documentation" of collective memory in the form of a funerary assemblage seems to be focused on the individuals whose death has produced the greatest complications in terms of the intergenerational transfer of social roles and property.

141

Connerton 1989: 27; Chapter 2: 98.

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Chapter 5 Social Forgetting: Purposeful Destruction and Redefinition Through Commemoration

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Instead of focusing on commemoration, this final chapter focuses on the evidence for the intentional destruction of funerary monuments in Attica, and the social forgetting that such destruction may have precipitated or encouraged. I would like to suggest that the Persian sack of Athens in 479 B.C. cleared the way for new strategies of elite funerary commemoration in the early Classical period, with the unintended consequence that the traditional iconography of funerary monuments from the previous period was largely abandoned. In order to demonstrate the dramatic changes in the approach to commemoration that mark the end of the Archaic period, I shall briefly return to Homer, followed by a discussion of the evidence suggesting that social negotiations occasionally had been carried out through the intentional destruction of tombs before the Persian Wars. The final section of this chapter will propose the value of social forgetting that was encouraged by the removal of monuments, which in part enabled new commemorative forms to redefine social identities in the Early Classical period at Athens. We have seen that autopsy of the Homeric sema alone is inadequate for the perpetuation of memory and must be supported by oral testimony. Large size and prominent location may suggest that the deceased was an important individual, but these characteristics by themselves cannot communicate information about his or her position within the gendered hierarchy of the community. The visibility of a monument derives its value through provoking an oral account, and it is the sight of Telemachos in Book 4 of the Odyssey that prompts Helen to realize his identity. She then encourages Menelaos to recognize the son of Odysseus as well. Initially Telemachos' physical characteristics, resembling those of his father, attest to his lineage, but his identity is ultimately

243

confirmed by the oral testimony of Nestor's son. At Helen's prompting Menelaos tells her: OUTGO vuv Kdi eyob VOECO, yuvcn, cos ou EIOKEIJ-

SO I too now perceive, wife, how you make the

KEIVOU y a p TOIOISE TTOBES TOICCISE TE X ET P E S

comparison, for these feet and hands, and the

690aA^cov TE PoAal KEcpaArj T' EcpuTTEpGE TE X aTTai. d a r t i n g o f h i s e y e S ) ^j h i s h e a d ^j h a i r a b o v e Km vuv fj TO. Eycb u.Euvr,MEvoS dnq>' Oouafii a r e m o s e o f t h a t m a n rpdysseus]. And just now Mu6E6unv, o a a KETVOJ oT^uoas EUoyr,OEV indeed jw a s rememberi md t e U i about «W swoi, a u r a p o TTUKVOV u n o 9 P u a . 5a K puov ET|3E, od about h o w thi h e suffered vAaivav Tfopq)uperiv OVT ocpoaAyouv avaaYcov. , J , ' .. , , . 1 X .., *: . . . . , T ,„, 4 148 1S41 when he toiled on my behalf. Yet this man sheds a thick tear from under his brow while holding the purple mantle before his eyes.

Instead of bringing happiness, recognition of Odysseus' son overtakes everyone present with the desire to lament (TOTOI 8E TTCCOIV vy' I'uepov cbpae yooio, Od. 4.183). They all begin to grieve for Odysseus as if they were viewing the hero's corpse on a bier instead of his son's living body. The funeral atmosphere is made explicit as the scene continues when Nestor's son reminds the group that they are not at a funeral (Od. 4.190-202). The mourning behavior prompted by the sight of Telemachos highlights the options for enduring repute that Svenbro has proposed for the Homeric heroes: kleos through oral tradition and progeny through biological reproduction.1 The two options are not mutually exclusive, and Svenbro has argued that Odysseus achieves immortality through his son as well as through the kleos perpetuated through epic poetry. The link between the two, according to Svenbro, is provided by traditional Greek naming conventions. In accordance with common practice, "[t]he primary meaning of the name Telema[c]hos refers not to the newborn child or the young boy who bears it, but to Odysseus, his father, whose part in the Trojan War constitutes one of his essential

1

Svenbro 1993: 65-68.

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exploits."2 Telemachos has been marked with the attributes of his father by virtue of his parentage and his name and becomes the sema of his father as well. As a result, sight of the young man provokes an account of Odysseus' kleos in the same way as a tumulus would have if it was linked to an unbroken oral tradition. Helen's and Menelaos' response to the sight of Telemachos-as-,«?/wa thus highlights the connection between funerary monuments as vehicles that perpetuate memory of the deceased and progeny, who define themselves in relation to that memory within the living community. The initial response of Telemachos' hosts is lamentation. But Odysseus is not dead (according to the prophecy that Menelaos had received from Proteos), and Helen takes it upon herself to dispel the funeral atmosphere of the gathering by drugging their wine. The drug takes away sorrow and anger, and causes forgetfulness of all ills (vnTTEv8Es T' &xoA6v TE, KctKcov ETT(Ar|0ov cnravTcov, 4.221), specifically so that those under its influence may view loved ones in death without grief (Od. 4.224-226). Telemachos is a monument for "he-who-fights-far-away," and Helen's drug is an antidote to potentially destructive impulses among the living that the sight of Odysseus' son/sema may provoke. The source of these impulses is anger at the death that cannot be directed at a specific enemy outside of the community. Under parallel circumstances in Archaic Athens, Seaford in particular has argued that funerary monuments may have provided a focus for inciting retaliatory violence within the community. In examining the "new" end

2

Svenbro 1993: 69. The name the Trojans give to Hektor's son in the Iliad provides another example of a son named after the exploits of his father. The son whom Hektor calls Skamandros is called Astyanax (lord of the city) by others "because Hektor alone was preserving Ilion" (oTo$ yap epuETo "lAiov "Eiorcop, //. 6.403), cf. Nagy 1999: 146, §9n.2.

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of the Odyssey" as a paradigm reflecting the establishment of polis institutions, Seaford has drawn on ethnographic parallels to argue that the funeral was a means of affirming group solidarity through "collective anger and collective participation in the state of the dead."4 If the killer and victim were members of the same community, and the homicide was unresolved because the killer had not been punished, the resulting anger of the burying group has the potential to produce violent retaliation within the community.5 In a pre-polis community without institutionalized justice, a family might use the funeral as an occasion and the tomb as a focus for gathering their forces and avenging the deceased.6 Some support for this interpretation comes from the homicide laws of Athens and literary sources, which provide evidence of the responsibility that a victim's family had to seek retribution for his death.7 In the case of Odysseus, however, it is not his death that must be avenged, but the plundering of his oikos (household), which the suitors had been treating as though it belonged to an enemy. They are in fact treated as enemies in the "new" end of the poem, and the threat of continued violence in the community results. Anger in the community resulting from killing the suitors can only be directed inward at Odysseus and the members of his household who assisted him instead of outward at an external enemy. The retaliatory violence thus would be directed within the community as well and may destroy it as a result. Because of these destructive impulses, a funeral that gathers 3

"[T]he earlier version of the Odyssey ended with the restoration of ritual (the wedding) in the domestic sphere only, without the death ritual for the suitors and the reconciliation with their relatives that it was later felt necessary to add" (Seaford 1994: 31). 4 Seaford 1994: 87. 5 Seaford 1994:103-104. 6 Seaford 1994:90. 7 Phillips 2008: 27-29.

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community members united by a desire for vengeance has the potential to destroy the community rather than negotiate its perpetuation through the transfer of social roles and property as a proper funeral should. The "new" ending of the Odyssey was necessary (according to Seaford) to preserve the community from destructive violence, and it does so through institutions of the polis that have been personified in the form of Athena, "who protects her city from civil strife."8 Arbitration is also present in the Iliad, but it is depicted on the shield that Hephaistos fashioned for Achilles (//. 497-508) and so operates outside the main narrative of the poem. The drug that Helen administers after the dinner guests have recognized Telemachos produces a result that is similar to the command of Athena: it nullifies potential strife in the community by taking away pain, and more importantly, by taking away anger. The drug seems to obscure recognition of Telemachos-as-se/wa without obscuring his identity as Odysseus' son. The power of the drug, furthermore, is immediately demonstrated when Menelaos recounts Helen's treachery against the Greeks inside the horse, and the tale does not arouse his anger against her {Od. 4.269-289). As a result of the drug, any anger provoked by the sight of Telemachos has been nullified, and violence-provoking ills have been forgotten. Feminist scholars have tended to see Helen's drug as a paradigm for epic poetry with both positive and negative aspects. Bergren has likened its power to soothe grief to the kleos transmitted through poetry, with the caveat that its soothing power is unstable. Mihoko Suzuki, in contrast, sees "the erasure of memory, painful though the memory 8 9

Seaford 1994: 178, cf. Solon, Fr. 4. 1-4. Bergren 2008b [1981]: 123-125.

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may be, to be the fundamentally dangerous temptation in the Odyssey." I am suggesting that the forgetting produced by the drug is selective: Odysseus' kleos provoked by the sight of his son continues to be remembered; only the anger resulting from his absence, which cannot be directed against a specific entity outside the community, is forgotten. Telemachos cannot be the sema of his father because Odysseus is not actually dead, and Helen's drug nullifies the premature lamentation. The discord in the marriage of Menelaos and Helen that is suggested in the episode serves to highlight the benefit of the drug—the forgetting and calm it produces creates harmony within their household.11 The bulk of this study has been focused on the benefits of remembering as the community at Athens reproduced itself from one generation to the next, but the palliative effect of Helen's drug provides a model for the way obscuring sight of funerary monuments and forgetting could be beneficial to the living as well.

Purposeful Destruction Before the Persian Wars The visual relationships of monuments to each other and to the surrounding community are the primary focus of Small's discussion on the Kerameikos as a "standing monument cemetery,"12 in which the monuments have been "deposited over a span of time, and they incorporate inherent features that offer prospects for social negotiations that are markedly different from cemeteries without permanent markers."13 The essential quality that makes such negotiations possible is the continued visibility of claims made 10

Suzuki 1989:66, n. 15. In Bergren's words, "events naturally tragic for some of the audience will be detoxified" (2008: 118). 12 D. Small 1995. 13 D. Small 1995: 150.

11

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by the burying group (and their descendents) through the topographical, iconographic and epigraphic associations invoked by a monument. As Small points out, a variety of monumental forms likely stood side-by-side at various points in the history of the cemetery. Grave markers of an older configuration, such as Late Geometric or Protoattic vases, would have stood next to Archaic stone stelai within the same precinct and attested to the duration of the family's prominence in the history of the community. Challenges to the claims of a burying group to particular social roles may also have been acted out through the commemorative landscape of a cemetery, through intentional removal of the monuments as visual stimuli designed to perpetuate collective memory of decedents in a specific burying group. A variety of evidence suggests that forgetting, encouraged by removing or burying monuments, was practiced just as actively as remembering in the cemeteries of Archaic Athens at various points in the history of the community. The accounts preserved by later authors suggest that Athens was frequently disturbed by conflict between factions during the Archaic period, and that the conflict was sometimes acted out on the monuments, as well as the people, of the families involved. The most infamous early dispute is the so-called "conspiracy of Kylon" for which Herodotos, Thucydides, Isokrates and Plutarch all provide details.15 In a bid for tyranny, we are told, the Olympic victor Kylon attempted to seize the Akropolis with a group of young men. Their attempt was thwarted, however, and they were ultimately killed by members of an opposing group led by Megakles, who belonged to the 14 15

D. Small 1995: 147-150. Herodotos 5.71; Thucydides 1.126; Isokrates 16.26; Plutarch, Solon 12.

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Alkmeonid clan and was at that time one of the Archons in Athens, according to Plutarch {Solon 12).16 As a result of the homicides the Alkmeonid family was said to be cursed, and the Athenians

"TOUS TE CGOVTCCS EACCUVOVTEC; KCCI TCOV TE8VECOTCOV TCX OOTCX

CXVEAOVTES E£E(3CIAOV"

(cast them out by driving out the living and removing the bones of

the dead). 17 Removal of the bones presumably would have been accompanied by removal of the monuments as is specified in another account of the episode by Isokrates: TETTapdKovTa 8' ETTI Tfjj ardoecos ytvo\xivr\% irrro UEV TCOV Tupdvvcov TOOOUTCO uaAAov TCOV dAAcov EnianGrioav coo0' OTTOTE TctKEivcov KpanioEiev, ou uovov Ta5 oiicfas OUTCOV KOTEOKaTfTov dAAcx Kai TOUS Tdcpouj avcbpuTTov.

Throughout the forty years of the upheaval, [the Alkmeonids] were hated so much more than the o t n e r s by the tyrants that, whenever one had power over t h e m they not only razed m e i r h o u s e s but also

.

(Isokrates 16.26)

Although the occasions are not specified,

m s

• .

•

v

OTTOTE with

the optative verb KpcnTJaEiEv

suggests that the tombs were destroyed on more than one occasion, and the accounts of Herodotos (5.70; 72) and Thucydides (1.126) specify two occasions: the Kylonian conspiracy in the seventh century, and Spartan Kleomenes' banishment of Kleisthenes with 700 cursed households from Athens in 508 B.C. after the period of the tyranny.18 Josh Ober has argued that the resulting retaliation against Spartan interference was led by the demos, not Kleisthenes' aristocratic partisans, and "defined the nature of Athens' subsequent democratic reforms."19 With regard to the present study, Isokrates' description is particularly interesting because it makes a direct connection between the 16

The conspiracy is thought to have occurred in 636, 632,628 or 624 B.C. based on the historical tradition and festival calendar. See Hornblower [1991: 204] and Phillips [2008: 35, n. 1] for discussion of the sources. 17 Thucydides 1.126.12. 18 Hornblower 1991: 210. A fragmentary Archon list (IG I31031a) has been cited by some scholars as evidence that Kleisthenes was eponymous Archon in 525 B.C. and therefore could not have been in exile for the duration of the tyranny as Herodotos (6.123) claimed. But Dillon [2006] has reviewed the evidence, pointed out the likely inaccurate restoration of Kleisthenes' name in the inscription, and validated Herodotos' account. 19 Ober 2004: 261.

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households of the living (TCXS oiKias) and the monuments for the dead (TOU$ Tdcpous). As we have seen, an elite funerary assemblage during the Archaic period at Athens typically was composed of a monumental vase or sculpted marker that could be supplemented with inscription and/or the display of additional figural terracotta objects. Through the iconographic program of these objects and the collective memory that they represented, the burying group laid claim to specific social roles—warrior, athlete, priest, marriageable young woman—that were necessary for the community to perpetuate itself. Seaford has seen the purposeful destruction of Alkmeonid monuments as a means of depriving their "supporters of the tombs that may have served them as a focus for the solidarity needed for acts of violence." Although the Alkmeonids had been exiled as the perpetrators rather than victims of homicide, Seaford still sees the tombs providing a focus for retaliatory violence within the community. But removal of the Alkmeonid monuments also removed the visual stimuli that perpetuated collective memory of the social roles claimed by the family, and the purposeful destruction of monuments in the Alkmeonid precinct in the Kerameikos provides an example of the socio-political negotiations that may have been carried out within the "standing monument cemetery."21 Alkmeonid family tombs and their markers likely had been erected over a long period of time and would have occupied a highly visible location in the Kerameikos. If Knigge is correct that Tumulus G and the Tritopatreion, currently located at the point where the Sacred Way and so-called "Street of Tombs" diverge, are the ancestral burial ground and "shrine" of the Alkmeonid family, then archaeological evidence exists for a 20 21

Seaford 1994: 94. D. Small 1995.

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visually prominent location of the family precinct. In the middle of the sixth century when the exile is thought to have taken place, older Grabbauten and monumental vases may have stood alongside marble stelai, kouroi or korai in the precinct. The accumulated monuments of the clan, as long as they remained standing, would have testified to the long lineage of the Alkmeonids as a leading family in Athens and expressed visual superiority over more recent precincts set back from the roads or located further outside of the city. Once the monuments had been removed or covered over, however, the history of the family similarly would have disappeared from the view of the living community. The Alkmeonid exiles, whatever their precise dates may have been, have been cited by a number of scholars as an explanation for either the destruction or protection of various tombstones that their state of preservation has suggested. Richter, for example, argued that the well-preserved fragments of the "Brother and Sister" stele in New York (Figure 4.2a) support the view that "the monument had been broken up not very long after it was erected—and for this action the exile of the Alkmeonids some time between 541 and 537 would supply a plausible reason."23 The exceptional preservation of Phrasiklea's monument (Figure 4.4a) has also suggested that it was buried shortly after it had been set up. In the latter case, however, the kore had not been broken apart before burial, and Svenbro thus argued that it had been buried to protect it. Just as Richter had done for the "Brother and Sister" stele, he has connected burial of the kore for Phrasikleia to the Alkmeonid exile, in part because the pottery in the context of discovery is too early

Knigge 2006. Richter 1944: 72.

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and the sculpture too well-preserved to have been burled during the Persian War period. The alternative that Svenbro has proposed as the occasion of protective burial is the return of Peisistratos ca. 540 B.C., who was a political opponent to the Alkmeonid clan.25 As attractive as it may be to connect these monuments to a family known from the literary sources, however, the inscriptions do not provide clear attributions, and the Alkmeonid exile is not the only occasion on which funerary monuments seem to have been purposely removed from view in Archaic Attica. The evidence is difficult to pin down, but there are some suggestions in the archaeological record that the Athenians themselves may have taken down or otherwise obscured older tombs in the Kerameikos prior to the Persian sack of Athens in 480/79 B.C. According to Knigge: One can see the effect of the Kleisthenic Isonomia, all citizens equal in the eyes of the law, and also the effort to weaken the power of the aristocracy, reflected in the Kerameikos graveyards. The slopes of the great Peisistratid tumulus [the 'South Hill'] - probably burial ground for envoys - were obliterated underneath a great pile of dumped earth and turned into a burial ground for ordinary people. The same thing seems to have happened to the large tumulus for an Athenian noble family across the way [Tumulus G ] . . . The destruction of these two stately monuments evocative of the power of the tyranny and the aristocracy did not occur by chance, but must be understood as a deliberate act in conjunction with the reforms of Kleisthenes, which aimed to do away with the old forces and establish a democratic order.26 In the course of covering over the mounds, early grave markers such as the monumental vases and stelai discovered among the tumuli in the Kerameikos may have been buried as well. In addition to the "Dipylon" vases, notable examples include the lower fragments of Svenbro 1993: 12. These attributions, however, may also be the result of what Dillon [2006: 92] has called the '"great name' phenomenon of ancient history." 25 Svenbro 1993: 12. 26 Kniggel991:32.

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stelai preserved in their bases and the relief stele of a nude man with sword and staff found near Tumulus G (Figure 3.6).27 A phase (or phases) of pulling down or burying older monuments prior to the Persian sack of Athens would explain why these stelai and bases had not also been incorporated into the post-sack Themistoklean city walls. The clearing of the area that would become the Classical Agora should perhaps also be counted as a phase of purposely removing older monuments. T. Leslie Shear Jr. has reviewed the evidence from the Agora well deposits and concluded that the archaeological evidence agrees with the literary accounts of the destruction that Athens suffered at the hands of the Persians as described by Herodotos (9.13.2) and Thucydides (1.89.3).28 The clean-up that took place after the Persian sack, however, may have obscured earlier clearing efforts, as Papadopoulos has argued: [T]he so-called Persian Sack wells and related deposits, whatever their precise date, may just as reasonably be viewed as 'Agora creation' deposits. Indeed, they can be considered 'Agora creation' deposits precisely because the Persians destroyed Athens, and thus their number, their uniformity in terms of content, and their location, precisely in the area that was to become the Classical Agora.29 As the discussion of Telemachos-as-se/Mar and the obfuscating effects of Helen's drug have suggested, the visibility of the monuments was central to the perpetuation of collective memory in the living community that the commemorative assemblages had been designed to provoke. When tombstones were pulled down and/or covered over in a "standing monument cemetery," the visual expression of relationships to surrounding monuments was eliminated, as well as a potential gathering point for retaliatory violence. 27

Appendix 1: cat. no. 12 and 16; Knigge 2006. Shear 1993:415-417. 29 Papadopoulos 2003: 297. See Papadopoulos [2003: 271-279] for a discussion of tombs and potters' activity in the area. 28

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Once the visual stimuli had been removed, memory of claims to particular social roles may have faded as well. Even after the democratic reforms of Kleisthenes, elite Athenians did not entirely cease setting up elaborate stone monuments in the Kerameikos. As Stears points out, the epigraphic evidence taken together with the Late Archaic kouros head30 from the Kerameikos, securely dated to ca. 500-480 B.C., "confirms the epigraphic chronology which assigns grave-markers right down to the end of the Persian Wars."31 Smaller scale destructive events that obscured various precincts within the cemetery thus may have been as much the result of vicissitudes in political influence as of "democratic" burial practices before the Persian sack of Athens. The precise chronology and relationship of political institutions and burial evidence remains elusive, but the archaeological record in the Kerameikos and Classical literary accounts regarding tomb construction and destruction in the sixth century suggest that the monuments (and the collective memory they represented) may have been involved in the socio-political negotiations of the living community even before the city was sacked.

Redefinition of Commemorative Forms After the Persian Wars The Persian Wars had a lasting impact on the ancient Greek world, and their ramifications can be seen in commemoration of the dead as much as in accounts of the living. If my suggestion is correct that Archaic funerary monuments were valued as a means of "documenting" social memory, and provided a focus for the display of 30 31

Kerameikos PI 145; Knigge 1983. Stears 2000: 29.

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individual identity in relation to previous generations, then the polyandron burial at Marathon presents something of a paradox. The Marathon tumulus is located over 20 miles outside the city of Athens and was not a feature of the urban landscape as cemeteries surrounding the city were. Any ritual acts performed at the tumulus were not, as a result, on display in close proximity to the living community as the rites performed at tombs in the Kerameikos had been. Since the monument was not visible in the immediate landscape of the city, special measures would have been necessary to perpetuate the collective memory of those buried under the Marathon tumulus to surviving community members within the city. By all counts, the polyandron burial on the battlefield at Marathon represents a break with contemporary Attic practice.32 Thucydides (2.34.5) tells us that it was due to the warriors' exceptional excellence (BiaTrpETrfj TT)V dpETr)v) that they were buried where they fell in battle rather than being brought back home. So how was burial in a location relatively inaccessible to kin—the living who would "honor" the dead with tomb-cult— a signal honor? After examining the archaeological evidence, Whitley has argued that the Marathon tumulus employs practices which had been in decline over the preceding century and recalls the heroic funerals described in epic poetry, imitating the Homeric model of commemoration, but recasting it in a form more suitable to the democratic ideals of the fifth century.33 Whitley concludes that the Marathon Tumulus "stands 'betwixt and between' the symbolic order of the Late Archaic aristocracy and the

32

Whitley 1994. Whitley 1994: 227; Derderian [2001: 112], like Whitley, has focused on the democracy as motivation for the creation of public "democratic" monuments to replace individual aristocratic ones. 33

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demands of the new democracy, demands that were eventually to lead to the evolution of a new symbolic form, the demosion sema."34 His argument is well-supported by the evidence but focuses on the burial evidence as a reflection of cult practices and social structure rather than on the effect the break with tradition would have had on the memory-perpetuating traditions of the living community. In spite of its location at a distance from the city, there was a sustained commemorative investment at the site of the battle that continued all the way into the Roman period. As has been emphasized by Alcock, special measures are typical of commemoration at the site of a famous battle, which, "by definition less frequently seen than centrally placed (and, by design, continually encountered) memorials, battlefield monuments require more intense and focused observance and grant a more intense and focused experience."35 The special commemorative investment in the Marathon plain is visible both archaeologically and in the literary sources. The large mound in the plain, taken to be the one under which the fallen Athenians were buried, is still visible today, and Eugene Vanderpool reassembled the remains of a white marble column monument that matches the one described by Pausanias.36 Pausanias, who visited the site more than 600 years after the battle, described a variety of monuments on the plain as well as cult activity, and a notable absence of a visible tomb for the Persians whom the Athenians claimed to have buried (1.32.3-7).

Whitley 1994: 230. Alcock 2002: 76. Vanderpool 1966.

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The remote location necessitating a pilgrimage aligns the ritual observances at Marathon with rites practiced at rural cult centers, as opposed to ancestor worship as it had traditionally been practiced in Attic cemeteries in the second half of the sixth century B.C.37 The journey outside the city to the site of the battle, though undertaken to honor a special group of recent dead rather than a divinity, nonetheless involves some features parallel to the journeys for the rites observed at Brauron and Eleusis, which Seaford places in the same category as the Athenian rites for Dionysos Eleuthereus.38 While agreeing with de Polignac39 that rites involving pilgrimage to the countryside seem to have become prominent in Athens too late to have played a significant role in state formation, Seaford nonetheless argues that [t]his development of cult centres close to the margins of Attica but linked to the urban centre by processions surely contributed to the sense of Attic unity, and is in this respect comparable both to the Attic Dionysiac eiaaycoyri and in general to the cults discussed by de Polignac.40 In the case of Marathon, cult practice and funerary commemoration took on a new dimension for the living. Rather than providing a ritual focus for perpetuating memory of hierarchical boundaries within the living community, the Marathon tumulus provided a focus for rites that bounded Attica as a whole in relation to others who were outside it. Commemoration of a hero from the battle also took place even further from the city of Athens in the Panhellenic sanctuary at Delphi, where the Athenians set up a statue group that placed Miltiades, one of the generals from the Battle of Marathon, together on

See Chapter 3 and 4; Whitley 1994. Seaford 1994: 236. De Polignac 1984: 88-89. Seaford 1994: 248.

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a base with Athena, Apollo, and the eponymous heroes of some of the Athenian tribes. A hero of recent history was granted a place alongside gods, as formerly would have been reserved for heroes such as Herakles and Theseus. The dedication of Miltiades' statue at Delphi thus parallels the account of Cleobis and Biton, who had likewise been elevated to the status of heroes after death. Herodotos labels them the next most fortunate men on earth after Tellos as a result of their deaths at the height of their glory (1.31). He tells us that the two brothers were prize-winning athletes who, after substituting for oxen in order to transport their mother in a wagon to a festival in honor of Hera, died in their sleep inside the temple in response to their mother's prayer to the goddess to give her sons "the best thing that a man can obtain" (TT\V 8EOV 5ouvai TO av0pcb"rrcp TUXETV apicrov EOTI).42 After

their deaths, Herodotos continues, the Argives dedicated statues of them at

Delphi (1.31). In the case of both Miltiades and the Argive brothers, therefore, men of distinction were commemorated as heroes of cult at Delphi, where their images would promote the reputations of their respective poleis, Athens and Argos, on a Panhellenic stage. Within the city, the connection between the victory at Marathon and the surviving inhabitants of Athens was maintained through art and oratory in addition to pilgrimages for commemorative rites performed at the site of the battle. As Whitley has convincingly argued, those who died in the famous battle were styled as heroes in the Homeric sense,

Pausanias 10.10.1; S. Morris [1992: 293-295] discuses the monument and the juxtaposition of its iconography with that of the Athenian treasury that carried metopes depicting Athena, Herakles and Theseus, who were said to have aided the Athenians on the battlefield at Marathon (Pausanias 1.16.1). 42 Herodotos 1.31.

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but as a group rather than individually. As if to formalize the heroic identification, the Marathon-fighters also became the subject of art alongside the heroes of the Trojan War in the so-called "Painted Stoa" located in the Classical Agora at Athens.44 Pausanias tells us that the paintings in the Stoa depicted the Athenians facing the Spartans at Oinoe, Theseus and the Athenians fighting the Amazons, the Greek victory at Troy, and the Battle of Marathon. The juxtaposition of the scenes, like the statue of Miltiades at Delphi, elevates the Athenians who died at Marathon to the level of mythic heroes. Such largescale public art in the political center of the city would have supplemented the visual stimuli to memory within the city that the mound provided outside the city. Morris describes how three of the paintings in the Stoa, the battles against the Amazons, Trojans and Persians, "constitute the three climactic encounters of Athenian history in art as in rhetoric, and form a 'trilogy' in post-Persian narrative, whether in painting or literature."45 The battle had a prominent position in Classical selfrepresentations of Athenian identity. In addition to visual representation in public art, the Battle of Marathon became a "compulsory topos of national history" that was central to the communal funeral orations of Classical Athens.46 After surveying the accounts of the battle in the surviving speeches, Nicole Loraux concludes that, [a]s more than a myth, it [the Battle of Marathon] might therefore justly be regarded as something similar to the warrior's first exploit or to the trial of the hero—often the son of a god, always superhuman—must face in order to confirm himself as such: an action that is both archetypal and like all those that follow it.47 43

Whitley 1994. Pausaneas 1.15.4. 45 S.Morris 1992: 314. 46 Loraux 1986: 156. 47 Loraux 1986: 165. 44

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The post-Marathon period thus displays a clear shift in commemorative paradigm when compared to the previous three centuries. No longer drawing on the Archaic model of monster-slaying heroes, funerary commemoration instead began to draw its motifs from the celebrated history of the city. Tombs located at battle sites subsequently became involved in documenting collective memory of relationships between cities as well as within them. After the Battle of Plataia several cities set up monuments, which became features in the landscape and marked their joint participation in the victory over the Persians. But just as monuments in Athens may have been removed to encourage forgetting, Herodotos suggests that cenotaphs were constructed at Plataia in order to substantiate "false memory." It is with the aim of hiding their lack of participation in the battle, Herodotos tells us, that some cities erected empty mounds at Plataia: TOUTCOV UEV 5f) trdvTcov TrAripEES EyEvovxo oi Tctqjoi- TCOV 8E ciAAcov 6001 xat q>a(vovTai EV nXaxaiflai EOVTES Td<poi, TOUTOUJ BE, COS £ycb TTUvOdvonai, ETraiaxwoMEVOUs Tfi CXTTEOTOT Tfj<; H&XT1S EKCXOTOUS X ^ M O T a X " o a l KEIVCt TCOV ETTiyiVOHEVCOV ElVEKEV 6cv8pcbTTCOV, ETTE1 KOII

AiyiVT|TEGov Eoxt auT69i KaXEOMEVoj Tdq>os, T6V ryco CCKOUCO Kai 8EKa ETEOI uaTEpov HETCX rauTa 5ETI0EVTCOV TCOV AiyivriTEcov xcbaai KXEdBriv TOV AUTOSIKOU

6tv6pa TTAaTaiEa, irpo^Eivov EOVTO

The tombs of all these [cities] were full, but the other [cities] for whom tombs are also visible in Plataia, each of these, ashamed at their absence from the battle, as I have learned, heaped up empty mounds for the sake of future men. There is even a so-called tomb of the Aiginetans there, which I heard the Plataian who was their ambassador, Kleades, son of Autodikos, heaped up ten years after these events at the Aiginetans' request.

auTcbv. (Herodotos 9.85

The rationale given by Herodotos appears to be inaccurate in the case of the Aiginetans, as the state is listed on the "serpent-column" supporting a tripod that he tells us was dedicated at Delphi following the battle of Plataia (8.82; 9.81).48 The names of the Greek city-states that had fought against the Persians were inscribed on the column, creating 48

Meiggs and Lewis 1988: no. 27; Syll.3 31. The column can still be seen in Instanbul where it was relocated by the Roman emperor Constantine.

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what Morris has described as "a roster of those who chose to defend Greece rather than Medize."49 Whatever the reason that a tomb for the fallen Aiginetans was not set up immediately following the battle, they likely erected the cenotaph ten years later to reinforce memory of their participation in the battle rather than out of shame at their absence. Epic poetry celebrates xenia (ties of hospitality) in part through recounting the alliances of heroes in war, but wartime alliances were the province of cities in the Classical period. Just as the tomb of Achilles and Patroklos marks their affiliation at Troy, the monuments of the Spartans, Athenians, Tegeans, Megarians and Phleiasians at Plataia perpetuated memory of the joint victory by these cities against the Persians.50 Funerary monuments like those at Plataia marked alliances in the historical period, and were appropriated by cities to document relationships between communities as well as between individuals. It is from this same period, shortly after the Persian Wars, that we have the most secure evidence for the intentional removal of older gravestones in Athens. Ten years after their defeat at Marathon, the Persians returned and razed every edifice in Athens to the ground after the city had been abandoned by its inhabitants.51 The Persian threat remained, however, even after the Athenians regained their ruined city, and a hasty building program took place in order to fortify it: Touxcp Tcp Tpotrcp oi A6r|vccToi TT)V TTOXIV In this way the Athenians built walls for the city in a ETeixioav EV oAiycp XP°VV- Ka\ hr(kr\ T\ o'ncoBopia short time. And it is clear even now that the ETI KOI vuv EOTIV 6TI KCITCC a-rrovSriv EydvETo- oi building occurred in haste. For foundations of all yctp 0EM^Xiot TravToicov X(8cov UTTOKEIVTCII KOU OU 49

S. Morris 1992: 291. See S. Morris 1992: 290-292 with notes for discussion and references. Steinhardt [1997] has since offered an interpretation that the monument was composed to invoke the participation of the Greek heroes in the battle against Xerxes' forces. 50 Herodotos, 9.85. 51 Herodotos 9.13.1-2.

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^uveipyaonEvcov EOTIV fj, dAX' cbj EKaoTov TTOTE -rrpooEcpEpov, iToXXai TE cn-fjAai OTTO arindxcov KOI Xi6oi EipyaoMEvoi EytcaTEAEyrioav. UEICCOV yctp 6 TtepipoXos -rravTaxti 4§ift8n -riis TTOAECOS,

types of stone were set down and in some places even stones not worked to fit but however [the workers] delivered each one—many stelai from t o m b s wd scu ip te( j stones were built in. For the

• mf' o VTT°O0T° ™ V T Q ° M ° 1 " 5 K , V O ° V T E S ^ ^° _,, , . , , „ „ , „x (Thucyd.des 1.93.1-2)

enclosure of the city was extended in every direction and, for this reason, they hurried and made u s e o f e v e r y t h i n g in m e s a m e w a y

Unlike the removal of Alkmeonid tombs described by Isokrates, there is clear archaeological evidence for both the Persian sack of Athens and the subsequent construction of the so-called Themistoklean city walls.52 The walls, into the foundations of which several extant Archaic tombstones had been built as Thucydides describes, are the context in which the monuments have been found by modern archaeologists.53 The Persian sack of the city seems to have accomplished the removal of most, if not all, funerary monuments at once, in effect wiping the landscape clean of visual testimony to the history of prominence that elite families previously had claimed in the community. In the wake of this clean slate in the cemeteries, Stears has proposed that the post aliquanto legislation described by Cicero "may well have been proposed by a member of the aristocracy who sought to gain political advantage in opposing the burial traditions of his own class by advocating a consciously populist measure."54 If Stears is correct, the legislation is a manipulation of funerary display on the same order as digging up the Alkmeonid tombs. The goal would be the same—to deprive a competing faction of

52

Thompson 1981: 344; Shear 1993. Papadopoulos [2008: 31] has recently surveyed the literary testimonia and archaeological evidence for a pre-Themistoklean defensive wall at Athens and concluded that "[t]he wall that the Persians breached in their sack of Athens in 480/79 B.C. was the Mycenaean circuit wall surrounding the Acropolis and Pelargikon; together these walls, built in the Mycenaean period, continued to serve through the Archaic period until 479 B.C. when work was begun on the Themistoklean Wall." 53 Examples include the Archaic stele with a gorgon in the praedella now in the National Museum at Athens (Figure 3.7). 54 Stears 2000:44.

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authority derived from the visual testimony of funerary monuments—but it would be accomplished through preventing their construction rather than burying them. As Small explains, [t]he legislation was not therefore intended to curb elite excesses and promote an egalitarian ethos as a step towards democracy as proposed by ancient historians, it was intended to deny the Kerameikos as a context for status negotiation to those who had not used it as such yet.55 In the aftermath of building the Themistoklean walls, the lack of older monuments in the commemorative landscape also may have made a transition from an aristocratic-elite to populist-elite identity a bit easier, since the visual evidence of a family's aristocratic history had been cleared from view. Thomas has demonstrated that there was often a telescoping of elite-family lineages in Classical Attic oratory in which ancestors connected to early democratic achievement were remembered, while intervening ancestors up to one's grandfather were frequently forgotten.56 The early ancestors likely were not as democratic as they have been portrayed in the Classical accounts, but the visual evidence of aristocratic sympathies had been erased from the local landscape when the Archaic tombstones were built into the foundations of the Themistoklean wall. The result, therefore, may in some ways appear more democratic than it actually was. The field of view had been leveled and provided an opportunity for socio-political negotiations carried out through funerary display to be redefined. The institutions through which individuals were classified, specifically those reflecting the Archaic monster-

D. Small 1995: 168-169. Thomas 1989: 131.

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slaying heroic paradigm, seem to have been changing even before the Persian Wars. But the beasts and hybrid monsters faced by heroes in poetry and by young men in rites marking their readiness to face death for their community either disappeared or changed their aspect on funerary objects by the end of the sixth century.58 The episode of Odysseus facing the Sirens, for example, was fairly common in black-figure vasepainting but became rare in red-figure. Other threatening hybrids, like the Sphinx and Gorgon, "sweeten" in the Classical period according to Tsiafakis.59 These once-popular hybrids, moreover, no longer crown funerary stelai. With the beginning of Athenian involvement in the Persian Wars,60 they have human monsters to face in the form of the Persians. Large-scale equestrian sculpture, along with equestrian-themes in vase-painting, which had been common in both Attic sanctuaries and cemeteries in the second half of the sixth century, likewise seem to come to an end.61 The sack of Athens and subsequent construction of the Themistoklean city walls provided an opportunity to eliminate such aristocratic mnemata (tombstones/reminders) from the landscape and forget them permanently. The institutions through which social roles were defined had transformed dramatically by the time the Persian Wars had passed, and commemoration, funerary and otherwise, adopted new forms in response. In addition to the practices focused on the

57

S. Langdon [2008: 122-123] has argued that such a paradigm was operative at the end of the Early Iron Age. Archaic period initiation rituals likely mirrored the heroic paradigm as well that was preserved in part in the Homeric poems. 58 Hoffman 1994; Hurwit2002: 18. 59 Tsiafakis 2003: 77, 83-85. 60 Herodotos 5.97. The Athenians agreed to help the Ionians against the Persians ca. 500 B.C. 61 Eaverly 1995: 64. 62 Thompson 1981: 344-345; Garland 1985: 122; S. Morris 1992: 304-305.

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Battle of Marathon, the modification of techniques for perpetuating collective memory is also evident in the funerary ritual and monuments of the Classical period as well. Thucydides' description of public burial at the beginning of the Peloponnesian War makes it clear that funeral rites for those who had died in battle began to be performed in political rather than familial groups by the second half of the fifth century: the bones were grouped by tribe,63 and women still performed some kind of lamentation at the tomb but were not clearly segregated by family.64 The public funeral thus manipulated the collective memory of war heroes in a new way. Their relationships within the community were still put on display but without the same boundaries based on household as in the Archaic period. The entire city became the burying group that lay claim to their personae, and it did so at a single focal point in the landscape, the demosion sema.65 When elaborate gravestones become common once again in the second half of the fifth century, they bear strikingly different iconography than the kouroi, korai and stelai of the Archaic period. The influence of the demosion sema on private commemoration has been observed in a new trend in which "the epigrams of related private grave monuments carrying the same iconography mediate between the democratic virtues and the single citizen."66 It is only in the Late Classical period that extended genealogies began to be recorded on funerary monuments. As we have seen in the discussion of Archaic epitaphs, 63

There is a single coffin for the bones each tribe (EVEOTI 5E TC; oora fis EKaoTog f\v ov 6Ao
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the choice of names that were specified on a monument was highly selective and sometimes excluded even the name of the deceased.67 An apparent extension of this epitaphic phenomenon is the inconsistent inclusion of the demotic in the Classical period. Elizabeth Meyer has argued that the value of tombstones which listed deme affiliation, entirely absent in Archaic inscriptions, rose and fell with the value placed on citizenship.68 The Periklean legislation on citizenship in the second half of the fifth century seems to have had an observable effect on documenting the identity of female citizens,69 as opposed to documenting an idealized persona connected to a particular family during the Archaic period. A substantial number of tombstones for women appear along with the Classical style of grave stelai;70 funerary iconography, as a result, took on a more domestic character by the fourth century with nuclear family groupings more likely to be represented.71 The representation of social roles valued for perpetuation of the community and the way they were ritually defined in collective memory clearly had changed radically by the Classical period and likely had been changing even before the Persians sacked Athens. It should come as no surprise, therefore, that representations of personae contrary to the contemporary socio-political climate were allowed to disappear from view and be forgotten.

67

Chapter 4: 229; cf. IG I3 1266. Meyer 1993:115. 69 [Aristotle], Constitution of Athens, 26 A; Plutarch, Life ofPerikles, 37.2-5; Patterson 1981. 70 Stears 2000: 52. 71 Humphreys 1980: 116-121; Meyer 1993. 68

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Conclusion We have seen that tumuli, as illustrated in the Homeric poems, perpetuate the name and kleos of the hero largely through their visual prominence. This striking visibility is a quality that regularly provokes mention of the hero's identity (as long as it is known), when the mounds serve as points of reference in the landscape of the living community. But the poems also express an awareness that an earth mound, however large, is dependent on the continuity of oral tradition to perpetuate memory of the deceased. The commemorative significance of a monument may be forgotten if it is indistinguishable from natural features in the landscape, and the local community does not have a vested interest in remembering its original purpose. Myrina's "Thorn Hill" demonstrates just such an outcome (77. 2.811-814). The turning post described by Nestor (77. 23.326-333) provides another example of ambiguous morphology and suggests that even the presence of man-made features may not prevent the monument from being redefined in order to suit the needs of whichever population currently occupies the area. The commemorative efficacy of Homeric funerary monuments thus is intimately connected to both the stability of oral tradition and continuity of the local community. Prior to construction of the sema in the Homeric poems and in Early Iron-Age Attica, funerary rites established knowledge of the death and the persona of the deceased in communal memory through "double-encoding."72 Survivors viewed the corpse, the ritualized gestures of family members, and the ritualized display of objects with conventional associations at the same time as they heard the lament. Familial

72

Connerton 1989: 27.

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relationships were marked by conventional behaviors during the performances, and the objects displayed with the corpse were indicative of his or her social roles, which were reinforced by the oral account given in the lament. The two modes of communication, visual and oral, thus supported one another in establishing collective memory of the deceased. Through the performance of the funeral, surviving members of the burying group laid claim to the social roles left vacant by the death and negotiated their transfer to survivors in order for the community to reproduce itself. The conclusion of the rites was marked by construction of the sema, which extended recognition of the death that began when community members viewed the corpse. "Social forgetting" precipitated or encouraged by the removal or burial of tombstones and grave precincts is the final indication of the value that the monuments possessed for the living in ancient Attica. The funerary assemblages were multidimensional representations of collective memory that drew on traditional referents living "beyond the edge of the [stone]" in the social existence of community members73 and represent choices regarding what aspects of collective memory were to be supported through visual coding. The iconographic motifs incorporated into the assemblages changed over time as strategies of self-identification in reference to preceding generations changed to keep pace with the socio-political climate of the living community. The Persian sack of Athens cleared the commemorative landscape but was forever inscribed on the slope of the Akropolis (Figure E.l), not so much as a reminder of defeat but as a foundation for the new kleos of the city. 73

The expression is a modification of one from Foley's discussion of traditional referents in oral poetry (Foley 2002: 118).

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Thucydides attributes a boast to Perikles in the funeral oration that Athens did not need Homer to praise her (2.41.4), and this is in part a reflection of new commemorative strategies.74 The Archaic era with its invocation of the paradigm provided by Homeric heroes stalking the battlefield like lions had given way, and the oral tradition preserved in epic poetry was no longer the chosen source of motifs that would locate the deceased in the gendered social hierarchy. A new paradigm was invoked that drew its motifs from the Persian Wars. Reference to the ruined temple on the Athenian Akropolis was constructed through maintaining its original architectural configuration (column drums surmounted by metopes) while being redefined as the foundation of a new building program. The sculpted markers and supplemental objects from which funerary assemblages in Archaic Attica had been composed similarly represent selective "documentation" through which the living defined their identity in relation to the dead. In the end, the willful destruction of these monuments at various points in the history of Athens likely was carried out in recognition of the authority that the visual counterpart to oral tradition possessed with regard to "establishing an agreed upon version of the past."75 Once the reminders of aristocratic lineage had been eliminated from the Athenian landscape, elite families were free to redefine their public image to be more in keeping with Classical ideals.

S. Morris [1992: Ch. 11] discusses the way that "historical and myth-historical paintings transformed a traditional medium into a newly political one, making legendary material coterminous with current history" (1992:316). 75 Fentress and Wickham 1992: x; cf. Halbwachs and Halbwachs Alexandre 1950.

270

Figures

271

Figure 0.1b: Detail of prothesis scene, "Dipylon Amphora" dated ca. 750 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 804. Photo: by author.

Figure 0.1a: "Dipylon Amphora," dated ca. 750 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 804. Photo: by author.

272

Figure 2.1: Evolution of trench-and-hole grave architecture during the Protogeometric period in the Athenian Kerameikos. Illustration: German Archaeological Institute (Knigge 1991: 18).

273

Figure 2.2: Cinerary amphora and iron grave goods from the "Warrior Burial," Grave 13 (formerly Grave XXVII) from the Athenian Agora, dated ca. 900 B.C., Agora Museum, Athens. Photo: by author.

274

Figure 2.3: Grave goods from the grave of the "Rich Athenian Lady," Agora Grave H 16: 6, dated ca. 850 B.C., Agora Museum, Athens. Photo: by author.

275

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Figure 2.4: Ekphora scene on a Late Geometric krater with male and female mourners and chariot frieze, dated ca. 750 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 990. Photo: by author.

276

Figure 2.5: Mound K and offering trench C, (Appendix 1: cat. nos. 9-11) in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 640 B.C. Illustration: German Archaeological Institute (Kubler 1959: Beilage 13).

277

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Figure 2.6: Grabbau k with plastered exterior over a cremation burial in the Athenian Kerameikos (Appendix 1: cat. no. 32), dated ca. 660 B.C. Photo: German Archaeological Institute (DAI-ATH-KER 2311, Kubler 1976, Plate 3).

278

Figure 2.7: Sphinx on a Protoattic krater (Kerameikos inv. no. 801) associated with a cremation grave and Grabbau x (Appendix 1: cat. no. 53) in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 630 B.C. Photo: German Archaeological Institute (DAI-ATH-KER 3430, Kubler 1970, Plate 87).

279

Figure 2.8: Antithetical sphinxes, warriors, dancing women, lyre-player and seated figure on a skyphos from Dipylon Grave VI, dated ca. 630 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 4881. Photo: German Archaeological Institute (Czako DAI-ATH-NM 4881, Langdon 2008: 170).

280

Figure 2.9: Nude youth confronting a sphinx on a black-figure lekythos (Kerameikos inv. no. 1707) from a child's grave (Appendix 1: cat. no. 130), in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 500 B.C. Photo: German Archaeological Institute (DAI-ATH-KER 21187, Kunze-Gotte, E., K. Tancke, and K. Vierneisel 1999, Plate 79).

281

Figure 2.10: Man confronting a siren on a black-figure kotyle (Kerameikos inv. no. 46) from Offering Place H* in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 580 B.C. Photo: German Archaeological Institute (DAI-ATH-KER 5867, Kubler 1970, Plate 101).

282

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Figure 2.11: Monumental Protoattic amphora, decorated with scenes recognizable from the myths of Perseus and Odysseus and wild beasts, used as a burial vessel for a child at Eleusis, dated ca. 650 B.C., Eleusis Museum, no. 544. Photo: by author.

283

Figure 3.1: Panathenaic Amphora, dated ca. 490-480 B.C., Getty Villa Museum, Malibu, no. 77.AE.9. Photo: by author.

284

Figure 3.2: Horse-head amphora (Kerameikos inv. no. 7056) from a child's grave (Appendix 1: cat. no. 143) in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated early sixth century B.C. Photo: German Archaeological Institute (DAI-ATH-KER 7056, Knigge 1976, Plate 43).

285

Figure 3.3b: Reconstruction of the stele for Antiphanes, National Museum, Athens. Photo: by author.

Figure 3.3a: The stele for Antiphanes, dated ca. 530 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 86. Photo: by author.

286

Figure 3.4: Inscribed and plastered limestone stele, originally painted, from the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 600-550 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. PI 133. Photo: by author.

287

Figure 3.5: Archaic lion sculpture discovered near the Sacred Gate in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 590-580 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. PI599. Photo: by author.

288

Figure 3.6: Limestone stele decorated with relief sculpture retaining traces of the ori§ paint, fragments discovered at the edges of Tumulus G in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 570-560 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. PI 132. Photo: by author.

289

Figure 3.7: Archaic Attic funerary stele (original left, reconstruction right) with a man holding a spear in the central zone and a gorgon in the praedella, discovered in the Themistoklean wall, dated ca. 560-550 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 2687. Photo: by author.

290

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Figure 3.8: Kouros for Kroisos, dated ca. 530-520 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 3851. Photo: by author.

291

Figure 3.9: White-ground lekythos showing mourners (or a mourner and the deceased?) at a tombstone with stepped base decorated with vases in front of a stylized tumulus, dated ca. 450-440 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 1935. Photo: by author.

292

Figure 3.10: Painted stele for Lyseas, dated ca. 525-500 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 30. Photo: by author.

293

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Figure 3.11: Equestrian statue that may have stood on the inscribed base with for Xenophantos (IG I3 1218), dated ca. 530-520 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. P6999 and 1389. Photo: by author.

294

Figure 3.12: "Riders Base" for a stele, discovered in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 560 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. P1001. Photo: by author.

295

Figure 3.13: "Athletes Base" for a kouros with three scenes in relief: front: wrestling, right: cat and dog fight, and left: ball players (?), dated ca. 510 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 3476. Photos: by author.

296

Figure 3.14: "Apobates Base" for a kouros with three scenes in relief: front: 'hockey players' and right & left: apobates (?) scenes, discovered in the Themistoklean wall in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 500 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 3477. Photos: by author.

297

Figure 3.15: "Lion-Attack Base" for a kouros with three scenes in relief:front:ball players (?), right: lion and boar combat and, left: riders, discovered in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 510 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. P1002. Photos: German Archaeological Institute (DAI-ATH-KER 7278, 6310 and 6311, Kissas 2000: 73-74).

298

Figure 3.16: Early Athenian coins featuring gorgoneia on the obverse. The tetradrachm (no. 173) has a lion protome on the reverse of the earliest issue, and a bull protome on the reverse of a later issue, dated ca. 530-520 B.C. Photo: Kraayl976, Plate 9.

299

Figure 4.1: Black-figure phormiskos decorated with a prothesis scene, dated ca. 510 B.C., Kerameikos Museum, Athens, no. 691. Photo: by author.

300

Figure 4.2b: Detail of youth's hand holding a flower or pod. Photo: courtesy of Jacquelyn Clements.

Figure 4.2c: Detail of the "sister" holding a flower or pod. Photo: courtesy of Jacquelyn Clements.

Figure 4.2a: "Brother and Sister Stele," dated ca. 530 B.C. Metropolitan Museum, New York, no. 11.185a-d, f, g, x. Photo: courtesy of Jacquelyn Clements.

301

Figure 4.3: Wrestlers on a black-figure lekythos (Kerameikos inv. no. 1472) from a shaft grave in the Athenian Kerameikos (Appendix 1: cat. no. 112), dated ca. 540 B.C., in the. Photo: German Archaeological Institute (DAI-ATH-KER 25823, Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Plate 42).

302

Figure 4.4b: detail of kore's hand holding a flower. National Museum, Athens, no.4889. Photo: by author.

Figure 4.4a: Kore for Phrasikleia and inscribed base, dated ca. 550 B.C. National Museum, Athens, no. 4889. Photo: by author.

303

Figure 4.5: Black-figure loutrophoros by the Sappho Painter showing a prothesis, burial, tomb scene and chariot race, from Pikrodaphni (Attica), dated ca. 500-490 B.C. National Museum, Athens, no. 450. Photo: by author.

304

Figure 4.6: Black-figure funerary pinax decorated with a prothesis scene and chariot race, dated ca. 500 B.C. Metropolitan Museum, New York, no. 54.11.5. Photo: courtesy of Jacquelyn Clements.

305

Figure 4.7: Black-figure "Areios" pinax decorated with a valediction scene, pinax from a series, dated ca. 530 B.C. National Museum, Athens, no. 2410. Photo: by author.

306

Figure 4.8: Valediction scene on a black-figure plate (Kerameikos inv. no. 1909) from Offering Place 42 (formerly WP 23 auBen), which has not been associated with a particular grave in the Athenian Kerameikos, dated ca. 550 B.C.. Photo: German Archaeological Institute (DAI-ATH-KER 6574, Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Plate 85).

307

Figure 4.9: Black-figure pinax decorated with a prothesis scene with the figures labeled by family relation, dated ca. 500 B.C. Louvre, Paris, no. MNB 905, (Boardman 1955: 62, no. 28). Photo: http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/image?lookup=l992.06.0684

308

Figure 4.10: Detail of the base for the kouros for Kroisos with the middle block carrying the inscription, discovered in Anavyssos, dated ca. 530-520 B.C., National Museum, Athens, no. 4754. Photo: German Archaeological Institute (DAI-ATH4754, Kissas 2000: 55).

309

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Figure 5.1: The Akropolis at Athens. View of the column drums and metopes from the temple destroyed by the Persians when they sacked the city. The Athenians subsequently built them into a retaining wall in which they recreated the architectural order of the temple (drums surmounted by metopes). Photo: by author.

310

Appendix 1 Catalog of Iconography from Seventh- and Sixth-Century B.C. Burials in the Athenian Kerameikos

311

Sources: Kubler 1959; Kubler 1970; Kubler 1976; Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999; Knigge 1976 Abbreviations: BF- black-figure; BG- black-gloss; WG- white-ground 1. Cremation Grave 4 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage IV), Offering Place a, Mound T. Goods were found on the offering place, ca. 690 (male grave, Kubler) Protocorinthian Kanne (jug) (Inv. 1267): tripods, horse head Protocorinthian Kotyle (Inv. 1273) Protocorinthian covered bowl (Inv. 1268) Protocorinthian covered bowl (Inv. 1269) Protocorinthian sherds (no inv. nos.) from (1) pyxis; (2) aryballoi Attic covered bowl (Inv. 1151): grazing horses and deer, sphinxes Attic covered bowl (Inv. 1158): horse, chariots, birds Attic covered bowl (Inv. 1155): birds Attic kotyle (Inv. 1152): horse, chariot, rider, mourner, sphinxes Attic kotyle (Inv. 1270) Attic jug or amphora sherd (Inv. 1271): horse, chariot Attic small jug (Inv. 1154) Attic high-footed cup (Inv. 1153): mourning warrior, horse, rider Attic high-footed cup fragments (no inv. nos.): horse, bird Attic footed cup (Inv. 1275) non-Attic cover (Inv. 1272) Attic cover (Inv. 1367): mourning woman (?) wheeled terracotta horse (Inv. 1156) terracotta wheel (Inv. 1274) handmade amphora 2. Cremation Grave 5 (Kubler 1959, Anlage V), Mound A. ca. 680 no goods. 3. Pit Cremation Grave 6 (Kubler 1959, Anlage VI), Mound E. ca. 660 no goods. 4. Cremation Grave 7 (Kubler 1959, Anlage VII), Mound Z. ca. 660 no goods. 5. Cremation Grave 8 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage VIII), Mound H. Goods were found in the grave, ca. 650 Protocorinthian kotyle (Inv. 1355): hunting dog frieze Attic handmade hydria (Inv. 1356) braided cord

312

6. Inhumation Grave 9 (Kiibler 1959 and 1970, Anlage IX), Offering Trench P, Mound ©. Goods were found in the offering trench except the krater on the mound, ca. 660 (male grave, Kiibler) Protocorinthian aryballos (Inv. 78): hare and hound frieze Protocorinthian covered bowl (Inv. 1278): frieze on lid includes a goat. Attic goblet with handle (Inv. 73): warrior frieze, mourning woman, snake-handle Attic goblet with handle (Inv. 1279): mourning women, snake-handle Attic goblet with handle (Inv. 1280): prothesis, mourning women, snake-handle Attic goblet with handle fragment (no inv. no.): mourning women Attic goblet with handle (Inv. 80): prothesis, mourning women, horse, sphinx, snake-handle Attic covered bowl (Inv. 76): horse, chariot, apobates (?) Attic cover (Inv. 75): horse, chariot, apobates (?), warrior, grazing deer Attic cover fragments (no inv. no.) Attic footed bowl (Inv. 1361): grazing deer, lions Attic plate (Inv. 74): cattle frieze, dog, griffin, hare, lions, panther, deer, horse protome on bottom Attic kotyle (Inv. 134): sphinxes Attic small jug (Inv. 77) Attic jug (Inv. 79): horse, chariot, griffin, sphinxes Attic jug (Inv. 1281): horse, chariot Attic krater on mound (Inv. 98): centaur frieze 7. Child Pithos Burial 10 (Kiibler 1959 and 1970, Anlage X). ca. 660 Attic footed bowl (Inv. 89): birds Attic footed bowl (Inv. 90) Attic covered pyxis (Inv. 91) Attic cup (Inv. 93) Attic cup (Inv. 94): birds Attic cup (Inv. 95): birds Attic cup (Inv. 96) handmade amphora (Inv. 92) pithos (Inv. 1370) 8. Cremation Grave 11 (Kiibler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XI), Offering Trench y, Mound I, Offering Place 5. Goods were found in the offering trench except where noted otherwise, ca. 650 (male grave, Kiibler) Attic footed bowl (Inv. 136): bird frieze Attic footed bowl (Inv. 137): grazing horse Attic footed bowl (Inv. 138) Attic kotyle (Inv. 139): sphinxes, deer, boar Attic jug fragment (Inv. 140): sphinxes Attic covered bowl (Inv. 142): frieze of women, stags, lion, panther Attic covered bowl (Inv. 143): sirens, panther

313

Attic footed basin (Inv. 147): bird frieze, lion Attic footed basin (Inv. 148): sphinx, griffins Attic footed basin (Inv. 150): cock protome Attic jug (Inv. 149): plastic mourning women and snakes on neck, prothesis, mourning women, lions Attic Thymiaterion (Inv. 141) Attic Thymiaterion (Inv. 144): sphinx Attic Thymiaterion (Inv. 145): woman (mourner?) Attic Thymiaterion (Inv. 146): woman (mourner?) Attic krater sherds on mound (Inv. 197 & 213) Attic krater on mound (Inv. 153): bird frieze Attic jug on offering place (Inv. 163): goats, lions 9. Cremation Grave 12 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XII), ca. 650, Offering Trench e, Erdmal a Protocorinthian kotyle (Inv. 97) in offering trench Attic foot of bowl (Inv. 189) in the mound 10. Erdmal b (Kubler 1959, Anlage XIII), ca. 550, disturbed Protocorinthian kotyle (Inv. 1376) 11. Cremation Grave 13 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XIV), Offering Trench £ Mound K, Offering Place r| & 9. Goods were found in the offering trench, ca. 640 Attic footed bowl (Inv. 50) Attic cup on high foot (Inv. 51): bird frieze Attic cup on high foot (Inv. 52) Attic kotyle (Inv. 53): male heads, birds, lions Attic jug (Inv. 54): bird frieze Attic cover (Inv. 55) Attic footed basin and cover (Inv. 56 & 58): rider, boar, lions, sphinxes Attic footed basin (Inv. 57): birds, lions Attic footed plate (Inv. 59) 12. Cremation Grave 14 (Kubler 1959, Anlage XV), Offering Trench i, Mound A. ca. 630 slate stele fragment attached to limestone base found in situ sunk into mound directly over grave 13. Child Burial 15 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XVI), ca. 620 Protocorinthian pyxis (Inv. 963): lions, deer Protocorinthian kotyle (Inv. 964) Protocorinthian kotyle (Inv. 966) Protocorinthian kotyle (Inv. 967) Protocorinthian jug (Inv. 969) Protocorinthian alabastron (Inv. 965): lions

314

Attic handmade jug (Inv. 968) 14. Child Burial 16 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XVII), ca. 625, disturbed. 15. Child Burial 17 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XVIII), ca. 600 wood coffin Protocorinthian sherds may not belong to this grave. 16. Cremation Grave 18 (Kiibler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XIX), Offering Trench K, Mound M. Except where noted, pottery came from the grave, ca. 630 Attic footed bowl (Inv. 1276): horse head, goat group, sphinx, lion, bird, cock Attic footed bowl (Inv. 1277) In trench were Protocorinthian sherds limestone stele fragment in limestone base found in situ sunk into mound 17. Cremation Grave 19 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XX), Offering Trench X, Erdmal c. ca. 610 no goods 18. Cremation Grave 20 (Kiibler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XXI), Offering Trench u. Mound N, Offering Place v. ca. 610 Protocorinthian kotyle in trench (Inv. 67): friezes with hounds and lions Protocorinthian jug in trench (Inv. 68): friezes with lions, bulls, birds, sphinxes Attic krater found on mound (Inv. 152): palmette bloom frieze 19. Cremation Grave 21 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XXII), Erdmal d. ca. 610 Protocorinthian jug in grave (Inv. 1358): hounds, panthers, lions, boar, sphinx 20. Child Burial 22 in handmade jug (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XXIII). ca. 650 21. Cremation Grave 23 (Kiibler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XXIV), Offering Trench §, Grabbau e. ca. 600 Protocorinthian jug in trench (Inv. 69): lions, swans Protocorinthian kotyle in trench (Inv. 70): panthers and swans Attic kotyle in trench (Inv. 71) Attic cup in trench (Inv. 72) Attic fragments in tomb: Inv. 123 from amphora: rider; Inv.;125 from amphora: rider 22. Cremation Grave 24 (Kiibler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XXV), Offering Trench o, Grabbau f, Offering Place n, p. ca. 600 Corinthian kotyle in trench (Inv. 1296) Corinthian jug fragments in trench (Inv. 1297): lion (?)

315

Attic basin on tomb (Inv. 1295): rider, birds, lion Corinthian kotyle on trench (no inv.) Corinthian kotyle on offering place (Inv. 61): lion and panther frieze 23. Cremation Grave 25 (Kubler 1959, Anlage XXVI), Grabbau g. ca. 590 no goods. 24. Cremation Grave 26 (Kubler 1959, Anlage XXVII), Grabbau h. ca. 590 no goods. 25. Cremation Grave 27 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XXVIII), Offering Trench a, Grabbau i, Offering Place x, p. ca. 585 Attic kotyle (Inv. 66) on paving near tomb: sphinxes, birds 26. Cremation Grave 28 (Kubler 1959, Anlage XXIX), Mound S. ca. 610, disturbed 27. Cremation Grave 29 (Kubler 1959, Anlage XXX), Mound O. ca. 590 no goods. 28. Child Burial 30 (Kubler 1959, Anlage XXXI). ca. 590 no goods. 29. Cremation Grave 31 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XXXII). ca. 580 Attic krater sherd, burnt, in grave (Inv. 98) 30. Cremation Grave 32 (Kubler 1959, Anlage XXXIII). ca. 580 no goods. 31. Inhumation Grave 33 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XXXIV), Offering Trench u, Mound n . ca. 580 Attic jug (Inv. 60) in grave: boar, lion Attic krater (Inv. 129) on mound: sphinxes 32. Cremation Grave 34 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XXXV), Grabbau k, ca. 660 Corinthian pyxis (Inv. 64) in tomb: panthers, siren Fragments of (2) Attic footed bowls (no inv. nos.) on tomb: terracotta mourning women from rim 33. Inhumation Grave 35 (Kubler 1959, Anlage XXXVI), Grabbau 1, ca. 570 no goods. 34. Pit Cremation Grave 36 (Kubler 1959, Anlage XXXVII), Grabbau m, ca. 570 no goods.

316

35. Cremation Grave 37 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XXXVIII), Grabbau n, ca. 570 no goods. 36. Cremation Grave 38 (Kiibler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XXXIX), Grabbau o, ca. 580 (female grave, Kiibler) Attic handmade jug (Inv. 1150) in pyre sweepings Attic plate (no inv. no.) in fill of tomb 37. Cremation Grave 40 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XL), ca. 570 no goods. 38. Cremation Grave 41 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XLI), Grabbau p, ca. 565 no goods. 39. Cremation Grave 42 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XLII), Grabbau q, ca. 600 no goods. 40. Cremation Grave 43 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XLHI), Grabbau r, ca. 580 no goods. 41. Cremation Grave 44 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XLIV), ca. 580 no goods. 42. Cremation Grave 45 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XLV), Grabbau s, ca. 580 no goods 43. Pit Cremation Grave 46 (Kiibler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XLVI), paving, Mound P. ca. 630 Attic krater (Inv. 100) on paving: birds Attic krater (Inv. 151) on paving: lions Attic krater (Inv. 99) on paving: birds, lions Attic krater (Inv. 130) on paving: birds 44. Inhumation Grave 47 (Kiibler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XLVII), Offering Pit (Opfergrube) 9, Grabbau t. All goods were found in the offering pit. ca. 590 Attic bowl (Inv. 39): goats, boar, bird, sirens, panthers, lions Attic bowl (Inv. 41): mourning women, goat, boar, birds, sirens, panthers Attic jug (Inv. 40): mourning woman on handle, goats, boar, sirens, panthers, lions Attic goblet (Inv. 42): mourning woman, goat, boar, sphinxes, panthers, lions Attic plate (Inv. 109): grazing deer, grazing goat, boar, siren, lion 45. Inhumation Grave 48 (Kiibler 1959, Anlage XLVIII), Grabbau u, ca. 585 (male grave, Kiibler)

317

Corinthian aryballos (Inv. 12) in grave: riders Corinthian bowl (Inv. 13) in grave 46. Inhumation Grave 49 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage XLIX), ca. 580 Attic amphoriskos (Inv. 31) in grave lower part of plastered poros stele (no Inv. no.), VII Taf. 52-53 47. Cremation Grave 50 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage L), Mound S, ca. 575 Attic lekythos (Inv. 23) in pyre sweepings 48. Cremation Grave 51 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage LI), Grabbau v, Offering Place X, ca. 580 (male grave, Kubler) Small Attic jug (Inv. 18) in grave poros lion sculpture on top of tomb 49. Child Burial 52 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage LII), ca. 590 Corinthian kotyle (Inv. 1359) Attic small jug (Inv. 1360) 50. Cremation Grave 53 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LHI), Grabbau w, ca. 580 no goods 51. Child Amphora Burial 54 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LIV), ca. 575 no goods 52. Cremation Grave 55 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LV), ca. 580 no goods 53. Cremation Grave 56 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage LVI), Grabbau x, ca. 630 Attic krater (Inv. 801) on tomb: sphinx 54. Cremation Grave 57 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LVII), ca. 580 no goods 55. Inhumation Grave 58 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage LVIII). ca. 620 (male grave, Kubler) Attic amphora (Inv. 658) on grave: rider, horse, siren, centaur 56. Cremation Grave 59 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LIX), ca. 580 no goods 57. Child Amphora Burial 60 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage LX), ca. 580 Attic pyxis (Inv. 687): buck, birds, deer, sirens, panther Attic jug (Inv. 688): panther

318

Attic kotyle (Inv. 689) 58. Adult Inhumation in Pithos Grave 61 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage LXI). ca. Attic pithos (no Inv. no.) ivory tool handle: bull 59. Cremation Grave 62 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage LXII). Goods in grave, ca (male grave, Kubler) (3) undecorated bronze vessels with the ashes of three (?) deceased Bronze bowl fragments (Inv. 139): sphinxes (?) Bronze fragments (Inv. 140): women (?) Protocorinthian jug (Inv. 82) Protocorinthian jug (Inv. 83) Protocorinthian aryballos (Inv. 87) Attic jug (Inv. 81): sphinx, lion, animal battle group, bird Attic jug (Inv. 84) Attic jug neck fragment (Inv. 88) Attic cup (Inv. 86) Attic jug (Inv. 1369) Attic handmade jug (Inv. 85) 60. Cremation Grave 63 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage LXIII), ca. 580 Attic krater fragment (Inv. 132) in grave fill: sphinx 61. Cremation Grave 64 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LXIV), ca. 580 no goods. 62. Cremation Grave 65 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage LXV), ca. 580 burnt braided cord in ashes 63. Cremation Grave 66 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LXVI), ca. 580 no goods. 64. Cremation Grave 67 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LXVII), ca. 580 no goods. 65. Cremation Grave 68 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LXVIII), ca. 580 no goods. 66. Child Burial 69 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LXIX), ca. 580 Corinthian kotyle (Inv. 62) in grave. [67. Cremation Grave 70 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LXX), disturbed]

319

[68. Cremation Grave 71 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LXXI), disturbed] [69. Cremation Grave 72 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LXXII), disturbed] [70. Cremation Grave 73 (Kubler 1959, Anlage LXXIII), disturbed] 71. Inhumation Grave 74 (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage LXXIV). Goods in grave, ca. 675 Aeolic Greyware fragments in grave Bronze bowl (Inv. Ml33) Bronze kotyle (Inv. Ml35) Bronze vessel with bird protomes (Inv. Ml38) Bronze plate (Inv. Ml36) Bronze bowl (Inv. Ml34) 72. Offering Place y (Kubler 1959 and 1970, Anlage LXXV), ca. 580 Attic terracotta offering table (Inv. 45): mourning women figurines, lions Attic 3-footed pyxis (Inv. 44): sirens, lions Attic kotyle (Inv. 46): siren facing man clay die (Inv. 47) 73. Offering Place co (Kubler 1959, Anlage LXXVI), ca. 580 no goods. 74. Shaft Grave 1 (Knigge 1976, Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 1/HTR 1), Mound G, Offering Place a, ca. 560-550 (male grave, Kubler) Poros stele (Inv. P 1132): nude male with staff 75. Shaft Grave 2 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 2/HTR 7), Mound G, ca. 550 (male grave, Kubler) Goods in grave. Lydian salt vessel (Inv. 30) Lydian salt vessel fragment (no inv. no.) Lance end (Lanzenschuh) iron nail amber pieces from Mine (couch) 76. Shaft Grave 3 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 3/HTR 2), Mound G, ca. 540, Goods in grave. BG Lekythos (Inv. 16) Lekythos (Inv. 14) Lydian salt vessel (Inv. 15)

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77. Shaft Grave 4 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 4/HTR 3), Mound G, Offering Place p, ca. 540-30 (male grave, Kubler) Goods in grave. BF Lekythos (Inv. 25) in grave: Dionysus with male dancers and spearmen BG Lekythos (Inv. 26) in grave BF Bowl (Inv. 22 = 1687) on offering place: prothesis, valediction 78. Shaft Grave 5 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 5/HTR 4), Mound G, ca. 560. Goods in grave. BF Lekythos (Inv. 2): nude warriors and male in mantel BF Lekythos (Inv. 1): nude male figures, male in chiton and chlamys, cock, hare, garlands Lydian salt vessel (Inv. 3) Glass alabastron fragment 79. Shaft Grave 6 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 6/HTR 6), Mound G, ca. 540. Goods in grave. Lydian salt vessel (Inv. 29) Lydian salt vessel (Inv. 28) 80. Shaft Grave 7 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 7/HTR 5), Mound G, no date. no goods. 81. Shaft Grave 8 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 8/HTR 9), Mound G, ca. 540. Goods in grave. BF Lekythos: nude running youth between bearded men in mantels with staffs (2) BF Lekythos: ram, panther (2) Lydian salt vessels (Inv. 678, 679) Kalathos (Inv. 680) 82. Shaft Grave 9 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 9/HTR 8), Mound G, no date. no goods. 83. Shaft Grave 10 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 10/HTR 10), Mound G, ca. 540. Goods in grave. BG Lekythos (Inv. 1702) Terracotta small basket (Inv. 686) BG Lydian salt vessel (Inv. 681) Terracotta triple female protome plate (Inv. 685 = T 834) Terracotta female protome (Inv. 684 = T 833) Terracotta female seated figurine Inv. 683 = T835)

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Terracotta female seated figurine Inv. 682 = T832) Terracotta rosette fragment 84. Shaft Grave 11 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 11/HTR 12), Mound G, Grabbau a, no date. no goods. 85. Shaft Grave 12 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Schachtgrab 12/HTR 13), Mound G, no date. Goods in grave. (3) lekythoi, now lost 86. Earth Burial 1 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 1/HTR 75), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF Lekythos: seated youth between men in mantels with staffs, cock on shoulder of vase BF Lekythos: seated figure on stool between giant eyes 87. Earth Burial 2 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 2/HTR 71), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BG Lekythos (Inv. 1544) BG Lekythos BF Skyphos (Inv. 664): naked bearded man running between palmettes BG Footed bowl (Inv. 1541) BF Miniature lekanis with cover: birds Glass amphoriskos (Inv. 1542) Terracotta seated female figure (Inv. 11 = T 47) Terracotta bird (?) (Inv. 1543 = T 440) 88. Earth Burial 4 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 4/HTR 74), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF Lekythos: hoplite between male figures in mantels with staffs, horse, cock on shoulder of vase 89. Earth Burial 6 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 6/HTR 55), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF Lekythos (KER 6515): hoplite pursuit before man in mantle with staff, cock on shoulder of vase BG Skyphos iron knife 90. Cremation Grave 14 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 14/HTR 4), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave.

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BF Lekythos: woman (under guard?) holding garland following a rider. The group approaching a bearded old man with staff, abduction scene (?) 91. Burial 18 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 18/HTR 54), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: hoplite between seated mantled figure with staff and standing mantled figure with staff BG kylix 92. Child Amphora Burial 21 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 21/HTR 112), ca. 525-500 amphora now lost, no goods. 93. Child Hydria Burial 21a (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 21a/HTR 111), late 6th century BF miniature bowl BG skyphos 94. Child Amphora Burial 28 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 28/HTR 26), ca. 500 amphora, now lost small Corinthian jug (Inv. 1023) bowl(Inv. 1024) single-handle flat bowl 95. Grave 41 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 41/HTR 17), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: hoplite pursuit, man in mantle with staff Sixes-Technique lekythos (Inv. 1516): Herakles and Cerberus 96. Grave 43 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 43/Shaft Grave HTR 3'), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: Athena battling a giant, man in mantle with staff, cock on shoulder ofvase Single-handle bowl (Inv. 1560) (3) small BG bowls (Inv. 1559a-c) 97. Child Amphora Burial 47 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 47/HTR 39), ca. 500. Goods in grave. amphora, now lost BG olpe single-handle bowl

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98. Child Amphora Burial 76 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 76/HTR47), ca. 520. BF amphora (Inv. 48): warrior with horse, male dancers following female aulos player (contained skeleton) BF palmette lekythos BF lekythos BG skyphos miniature chytra 99. Child Amphora Burial 81 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 81/HTR 63), ca. 500-490 amphora, now lost single-handle bowl (Inv. 1575) BG bowl BG miniature single-handle bowl miniature chytra 100. Child Clay Larnax Burial 105 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 105/HTR 90), ca. 500-490 BG pyxis 101. Child Earth Grave 173 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 173/35 HTR20 I), ca. 520-510 BF lekythos (Inv. 1837): dancing satyr between eyes lekythos (Inv. 1026) Corinthian (?) skyphos BG bowl 102. Earth Grave 217 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 217/39 HTR 6), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: Athena battling a giant between men in mantles with staffs, cock on shoulder of vase Terracotta salt vessels (pair) in shape of sandaled feet 103. Cremation Grave 221 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 221/39 HTR 11), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: seated woman between male figures (?) BF 'palmette' lekythos BF Pelike: seated Dionysus with cornucopia and goats on either side RF kylix: nude youth with wineskin on tondo BG kylix, burnt: non-figural BG stem cup, burnt: non-figural

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104. Shaft-Cremation Grave 229 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 229/35 HTR 40 II), ca. 550. Goods in grave. (2) Lydian salt-vessels, burnt, non-Attic Lekythos fragment, non-Attic 105. Child Wood Coffin Burial 232 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 232/35 HTR 17 II), ca. 510 BG lekythos (Inv. 1743) (2) BG lekythoi (no Inv. nos.) BG miniature skyphos (Inv. 1742) BF miniature skyphos (Inv. 1741): birds BG miniature bowl (Inv. 4020) (3) terracotta seated female figures (Inv. 1517, 1744, 1745 = T79, T80, T81) 106. Shaft Grave 234 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 234/35 HTR 64 II), ca. 510. Goods in grave. (2) Lydian salt-vessels (Inv. 710 & 711) BF Little Master bowl (Inv. 705): winged female figure BG footed bowl (Inv. 717) BF lekythos (Inv. 707): nude running youths, youths in mantels, cocks on shoulder of vase BF lekythos (Inv. 709): wrestlers, youths in mantles BF lekythos (Inv. 708): nude dancing youth holding garlands and flanked by lions, bird frieze on shoulder of vase BF skyphos (Inv. 706): hound between youths in mantles alabastron (Inv. 720) alabastron fragment (Inv. 721) (2) stamnos-pyxides (Inv. 718 & 719) Small basket (Inv. 714) BF miniature bowl (Inv. 716): swan-frieze Miniature bowl (Inv. 715) (3) small handmade plates (Inv. 723-725) BF plate (Inv. 712): nude youth with aulos, nude jumping youth, nude lying youth, bird Small plate (Inv. 713) 107. Shaft Grave 235 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 235/35 HTR 61 II), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos (Inv. 1841): seated figure between giant eyes BF lekythos: Dionysus with kantharos between two figures in mantles 108. Shaft Grave 236 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 236/35 HTR 59 II), ca. 500. Goods in grave.

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BF lekythos: hoplite battles, cock on shoulder of vase 109. Erdgrube 239 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 239/35 HTR 62 II), ca. 510-500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos (Inv. 1838): Centaur battling hoplite between youths in mantles with staffs BF lekythos, burnt: hoplite battle between figures in mantles with staffs, cock on shoulder of vase 110. Child Amphora Burial 241 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 241/35 HTR 22 II), ca. 525 Chiot amphora BG cup (Inv. 1725) Corinthian skyphos 111. Shaft Grave 242, Mound K, Offering Trench y (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 242/35 HTR 38 II), ca. 510-500 (female grave, Kubler) Goods in grave. BF lekythos: Theseus and minotaur, woman in mantle with garland, figure in mantle with staff BF lekythos: figure hurrying toward youth lying on kline between dancing satyrs BF lekythos (poor preservation): nude figures BF WG lekythos: Herakles or Theseus battling steer BF lekythos shoulder fragment: standing hoplites and figures in mantles BF lekythos (Inv. 1426): running or dancing female figure between giant eyes BF lekythos (Inv. 1425): nude youth wearing garland, holding a kantharos and leading steer for sacrifice; youth with lance BF three-footed pyxis (Inv. 1590): A. birth of Athena from Zeus' head on Olympus; b. Peleus wrestling Thetis; c. judgement of Paris BF three-footed pyxis (Inv. 1591): A. Theseus and Minotaur between female figures with raised arms; B. Rider departing from female figure and youth with left arms raised; C. two pairs of women working wool Polychrome bowl (inv. 1419) alabastron fragment bronze mirror 112. Shaft Grave 243 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 243/35 HTR 35 II), Erdmal c, ca. 540. Goods in grave. BF lekythos (Inv. 1472): wrestlers between figures in mantles; running youths BF lekythos: seated figure between winged running male figures BG lekythos (3) Lydian salt-vessels (Inv. 1473, 1474, 1475) iron knife

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iron lance base (?) 113. Child Amphora Burial 245 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 245/35 HTR 54 II), ca. 500-490 BF lekythos (Inv. 1719): female figure and bearded Dionysus BF lekythos (Inv. 1718): naked youth and seated figure BF lekythos (Inv. 1717): seated Dionysus with cornucopia, dancing satyrs BG lekythos (Inv. 1720) BG miniature skyphos BG small lekanis (Inv. 1716): birds 114. Shaft Grave 246 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 246/35 HTR 49 II) and Cremation Grave 247 (35 HTR 48 II), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos, burnt: bearded rider on donkey, female figure, satyr, maenad BF lekythos, burnt: chariot BF lekythos, burnt: chariot race BF lekythos: female figure standing in front of a tree (?) BF lekythos: steer-rider, man in mantle BF jug or pelike: youths in mantles; bearded old man BG goblet, burnt Single-handle bowl Alabastron Bronze cover Bronze mirror fragment Bronze fragment 115. Cremation Grave 267 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 267/S 39), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos, burnt: Dionysus with rhyton; female figure BF lekythos, burnt: horses; satyr BF lekythos, burnt: team of horses driven by satyr BF lekythos, burnt: team of horses escorting female (?) figure, satyr BF lekythos, burnt: team of horses escorting female figure, female driver BF lekythos, burnt: team of horses escorting female figure, female figure on stool BF lekythos, burnt: team of horses 116. Shaft Grave 270 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 270/S 63), ca. 540-530. Goods in grave. BF lekythos (Inv. 1706): running winged figure between nude youths with staffs and figures in mantles, cocks on neck of vase BF lekythos (Inv. 1704): rider; two nude runners

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BF lekythos (Inv. 1705): hoplite between nude running youths; siren on shoulder of vase BF lekythos (Inv. 1703): non-figural BG up to shoulder (2) Lydian salt-vessels 117. Shaft Grave 278 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-G6tte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 278/S 27), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: Apollo with kithara, Artemis, Leto, Dionysus, deer BF WG lekythos: symposiast on Mine BF lekythos: female figures; male figures in mantles BF lekythos: horse pair BF lekythos (Inv. 1488): judgment of Paris BF lekythos (Inv. 1486): aulos player, hoplites riding dolphins BF Lekythos: damaged RF lekythos (Inv. 1487): two couples: females with pomegranates; males in mantles with staffs and holding a pomegranate or purse BF WG alabastron (Inv. 1531): Peleus wrestling Thetis, lions, Chiron carrying torches BF WG alabastron (Inv. 1610): Herakles, Athena, Poseidon BG alabastron (Inv. 1485) 118. Grave 299 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 299/H 26), ca. 550. Goods in grave. BG small jug BG amphoriskos 119. Grave 329 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 329/H 129), ca. 575. Goods in grave. BG Corinthian skyphos (Inv. 1978): panther and bird frieze BF aryballos (Inv. 1981): dancing men amphoriskos (Inv. 1980) BGolpe(Inv. 1979) 120. Child Amphora Burial 363 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 363/H 116), ca. 550 amphora, now lost BG aryballos BGcup 121. Cremation Grave 408 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 408), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos, burnt: runners and mantled figures BF lekythos fragment, burnt

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122. Child Amphora Burial 446 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 446), ca. 550 amphora, now lost BG olpe small footed bowl BG miniature skyphos BG handled cup 123. Child Pithos Burial 449 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 449), ca. 550 pithos, now lost aryballos (Inv. 695) late Corinthian: warriors aryballos (Inv. 696) round faiance seal: lions and swan round faiance seal: buck and lions (?) round faiance seal: winged, 4-legged animal faiance scarab: animal with raised tail, pointed ears and pointed nose faiance scarab: heiroglyphics on underside translating to "the good man from Thebes", an epithet of Amon from Thebes 124. Child Earth Burial 452 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 452), ca. 500 BF lekythos: male kithara player between seated female figures BF lekythos: Dionysus with drinking horn seated between eyes BF palmette lekythos lekythos fragment with cock on shoulder 125. Grave 454 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 454), ca. 500. Goods in grave. Corinthian stamnos pyxis (Inv. 694) small non-Attic bowl (Inv. 700, Biel. 6) 126. Cremation Grave 458 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 458), channel and Grabbau P, ca. 550 (2) BG lekythoi small jug, burnt 127. Grave 461 = pyre debris with Grabbau r (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 461), ca. 500. Goods in grave. Samian lekythos jug fragment, burnt

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128. Cremation Grave 462 with (2) channels (zugrinnen) (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 462), ca. 520-510 BF lekythos: rider, youths in mantles BF lekythos (Inv. 1523): youths in mantles Lekythos fragment, burnt 129. Cremation Grave 465 and Child Burial in Amphora 466 (Kubler 1976 and KunzeGotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 465 & 466), Offering Trench 5, ca. 510 (female and child grave, Kubler). Goods in trench. BF plaque (Inv. 677), stolen: prothesis BF plaque (Inv. 690): prothesis BF phormiskos (Inv. 691): prothesis BF plate (Inv. 692): woman with salt vessel on tondo 130. Child Amphora Grave 468 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 468), ca. 500-490 SOS amphora with undecipherable graffito BF lekythos: satyr with drinking vessel BG miniature skyphos 131. Child Earth Burial Grave 470 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 470), ca. 500 BF lekythos (Inv. 1522): nude rider between two nude runners; cock on shoulder; similarities to vases produced in Euoboea BF lekythos (Inv. 1707): nude youth confronting Sphinx; similarities to vases produced in Euoboea BG pyxis (Inv. 1039) BF miniature bowl (5) dice

132. Shaft Grave 472 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 472), ca. 510-500 (female grave, Kubler). Goods in grave. BF lekythos (Inv. 667): Dionysus, dancing satyr BF lekythos (Inv. 666): Athena in Aegis battling giant; Herakles BF lekythos (Inv. 669): Maenad scene BF lekythos: horse, warrior, nude youth, cock on neck of vase (2) BF lekythos: robed figure with lance (or staff?) on stool; nude youths with lances; cock on neck of vase BF lekythos: nude runners between youths in mantles; cock on neck of vase BF skyphos (Inv. 670): Corinthian type, swan, owl BG kylix (Inv. 668) Miniature BF skyphos (Inv. 1724): Corinthian type, swans

330

Miniature BF bowl (Inv. 1723): swans (2) Miniature BF lekanes (Inv. 1721,1722) Terracotta basket (Inv. 674) Miniature lamp (Inv. 675) Glass amphoriskos (Inv. 673) (2) terracotta seated figures (Inv. 671, 672 = T 49, T 48) Bronze armband with snakeheads Bronze earrings Bronze bowl fragment 133. Shaft Grave 475 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 475), Mound R, ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos (Inv. 1839): horse pair and driver; Dionysus with rhyton BF lekythos: hoplite and Amazon; bearded figure and youth in mantles (2) BF lekythos: Dionysus with stool and kantharos, maenads BF lekythos: warrior surrounded by figures in mantles BF lekythos: two figures surrounded by figures in mantles; cock on shoulder of vase BF lekythos (Inv. 1835): Athena against enemy surrounded by figures in mantles BF lekythos: warriors 134. Shaft Grave 478 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 478), Grabbau s, ca. 550-540. Goods in grave. BF lekythos (Inv. 1700): woman making anakalupterion gesture; nude youths Lydian salt-vessel Alabastron fragment 135. Cremation Grave 480 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 480), ca. 560. Goods in grave. BG skyphos: Corinthian type Corinthian miniature skyphos BG amphoriskos 136. Grave 485 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 485), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: Dionysus with drinking horn, stool, between two dancing maenads WG miniature skyphos 137. Grave 520 (Kiibler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 520), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: two pairs of hoplites between youths in mantles BF lekythos: bearded old man on stool with staff between youths in mantles with staffs

331

BF lekythos: two pairs of figures in mantles with lances BF lekythos: seated man in mantle with staff; nude youths and youths in mantles; cock on shoulder of vase BF lekythos (Inv. 1715): hoplite pursuit between youths in mantles; cock on shoulder of the vase BF lekythos (Inv. 1714): warriors between youths in mantles; cock on shoulder of the vase BF lekythos: hoplite battle; cock on shoulder of the vase BF lekythos (Inv. 1713): running maenad between giant eyes; cock on shoulder of the vase BF lekythos: seated man in mantle with staff; nude youths and youths in mantles BG skyphos (Inv. 1711) Corinthian type BG footed bowl Base of lekanis (Inv. 1712) BG small bowl (Inv. 1710) (2) Lydian salt-vessels 138. Cremation Grave 541 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 541), ca. 550 (female grave, Kubler). Goods in grave. BG small jug Handmade small jug BG lekanis RF pyxis (Inv. 1065): pet dog on cover; potter's signature BG small bowl 139. Grave 546 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 546), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: nude youth and youths in mantles BF lekythos: damaged; cock on shoulder of vase 140. Grave 565 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 565), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: facing figures in mantles surrounded by figures in mantles BF lekythos: steers 141. Shaft Grave 613 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave 613), Offering Trench e, Built Tomb u, ca. 570 BG lekythos in grave (Inv. 10) BG small cup in grave (Inv. 8) Corinthian three-footed pyxis in grave (Inv. 6) Handmade small jug in grave (Inv. 7) Lydian salt-vessel in grave (Inv. 9) BG small bowl in trench (Inv. 5) Foot of large vessel in trench (Inv. 4)

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142. Grave S 97 (Kubler 1976 and Kunze-Gotte, Tancke, and Vierneisel 1999, Grave S 97), late 6th century. Goods in grave. lekythos: hoplite between mantled figures 143. Child Amphora Burial 1 (Knigge 1976, Grave 1/SW 70), ca. 550 horse-head amphora (contained skeleton) (2) small Corinthian jugs amphoriskos 144. Shaft Grave 3 (Knigge 1976, Grave 3/HW 87), ca. 520 (male skeleton, Knigge) Goods in grave. (lO)'Samian' lekythoi (3) Lydian salt-vessels Jug fragment with non-alphabetic grafitto on shoulder 145. Cremation Grave 4 (Knigge 1976, Grave 4/HW 65), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: warrior, youths wearing garlands and mantles and holding spears BF lekythos: Herakles in battle with Amazon or giant between spectators, 1 in mantle and 1 with spear. BF lekythos: male figure seated on stool between standing men holding spears; hound chasing a hare on shoulder of the vase Attic skyphos, Corinthian type 146. Child (?) Amphora Burial 5 (Knigge 1976, Grave 5/HW 169), ca. 510-500, disturbed lekythos: running hoplite, mantled figures small bowl pyxis cover 147. Child Amphora Burial 7 (Knigge 1976, Grave 7/SW 108), ca. 500 BF lekythos: warrior and amazon, mantled figures, hound and hare on shoulder olpe BG Attic skyphos 148. Child Amphora Burial 8 (Knigge 1976, Grave 8/SW 109), ca. 500 no goods. 149. Child (?) Amphora Burial 9 (Knigge 1976, Grave 9/SW 35), ca. 500, disturbed WG lekythos: dancing Maenads and satyrs olpe BG small bowl BG covered pyxis

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150. Cremation Grave 10 (Knigge 1976, Grave 10/HW 195), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos (Inv. 4051): bearded Dionysus between two large eyes; cock on the shoulder of the vase Kylix (Inv. 4049) BF pelike (Inv. 4049): Odysseus under the ram; running women Single-handle cooking pot 151. Inhumation Grave 11 (Knigge 1976, Grave 11/HW 38), ca. 500 (male skeleton, Knigge) Goods in grave. BF lekythos: man and woman between mantled spectators BF lekythos: bearded man opposite a seated woman BF lekythos: quadriga with standing charioteer BF lekythos: two seated women 152. Inhumation Grave 12 (Knigge 1976, Grave 12/HW 148), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BG kylix 153. Child (?) Amphora Grave 13 (Knigge 1976, Grave 13/HW 100), ca. 500 covered bowl 154. Inhumation Grave 14 (Knigge 1976, Grave 14/HW 51), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: bearded Dionysus holding a kantharos and seated on a stool between two large eyes 155. Inhumation Grave 15 (Knigge 1976, Grave 15/HW 48), ca. 500, disturbed. Goods in grave. BF 'palmette' lekythos 156. Child (?) Amphora Burial 16 (Knigge 1976, Grave 16/HW 167), ca. 500-490 covered pyxis miniature olpe: goat small bowl 157. Child Amphora Burial 17 (Knigge 1976, Grave 17/SW 137), ca. 500-490 WG lekythos: Dionysus and women lekythos: male figure between dancing women lekythos: seated Dionysus between dancing satyrs lekythos: lyre player between standing women lekythos: bearded and reclining men lekythos: battling hoplites between mantled figures, cock on shoulder covered pyxis miniature skyphos olpe

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158. Inhumation Grave 18 (Knigge 1976, Grave 18/HW 83), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: seated Dionysus (?) in long robe holding cornucopia between dancing women BG lekythos 159. Double Inhumation Grave 19 (Knigge 1976, Grave 19/HW 132), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: three standing figures in mantles, one with garland and holding a kantharos BG lekythos 160. Child (?) Amphora Burial 24 (Knigge 1976, Grave 24/SW 13), ca. 500-490 olpe small bowl 161. Cremation Grave El (Knigge 1976, Grave El/c40), ca. 510 BF lekythos, burnt: running figure in short garment between standing figures in mantles; cock on shoulder of the vase skyphos bowl 162. Child (?) Amphora Burial E2 (Knigge 1976, Grave E2/b26), ca. 525 miniature lekane miniature Corinthian skyphos 163. Grave E3 (Knigge 1976, Grave E3/c39), ca. 500. Goods in grave. Pyxis with swan on cover Small bowl 164. Grave E4 (Knigge 1976, Grave E4/a34), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF 'palmette' lekythos 165. Cremation(?) Grave E5 (Knigge 1976, Grave E5/b21), ca. 500. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: hoplites battling between standing figures in mantles; cock (?) on shoulder of vase 166. Cremation(?) Grave E6 (Knigge 1976, Grave E6/b22), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos, burnt: Dionysus holding cornucopia and seated on stool between two seated women Skyphos bowl, burnt 167. Grave E7 (Knigge 1976, Grave E7/a29), ca. 500. Goods in grave.

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BF lekythos: hoplite between mantled seated and standing figures; cock on shoulder of vase Small BG bowl with grafitto (2) eye-beads Bronze ring fragments 168. Child (?) Amphora Burial E8 (Knigge 1976, Grave E8/b34), late 6th century ring askos 169. Child (?) Amphora Burial E9 (Knigge 1976, Grave E9/c26), ca. 500-490 lekythos: lyre players (?), mantled figures BF lekythos: 'fat-belly' dancers 170. Child (?) Terracotta Larnax Burial E10 (Knigge 1976, Grave E10), ca. 500 BF 'palmette' lekythos BF lekythos fragment: running figure; seated(?) figure Miniature skyphos 171. Child (?) Amphora Burial El 1 (Knigge 1976, Grave El l/d49), ca. 500 BF lekythos: standing and seated, mantled, bearded figures with lances, hoplites, cock on shoulder olpe BG covered pyxis 172. Grave E12 (Knigge 1976, Grave E12/c32), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. BF lekythos: figure between two high rocks Lekanis 173. Child (?) Amphora Burial E13 (Knigge 1976, Grave E13/b28), ca. 500-490 BG Attic miniature skyphos BG Attic miniature skyphos olpe BG covered bowl krater foot 174. Child (?) Amphora Burial E14 (Knigge 1976, Grave E14/c24), ca. 500-490 jug fragment 175. Grave El5 (Knigge 1976, Grave E15/c46), ca. 500-490. Goods in grave. Lekythos Miniature Corinthian skyphos Olpe Bowl on high foot

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176. Child (?) Amphora Burial 22 (Knigge 1976, Grave Pr 1), ca. 525 pyxis miniature jug: birds Corinthian oinochoe 177. Child (?) Amphora Burial (Knigge 1976, Grave Pr 2), ca. 500 olpe pyxis palmette kylix (lost) 178. Child (?) Amphora Burial (Knigge 1976, Grave Pr 2), ca. 500 olpe

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