Bryn Mawr Classical Review

Giannis Z. Tzifopoulos (ed.), Μεθώνη Πιερίας I: Επιγραφές, χαράγματα και εμπορικά σύμβολα στη γεωμετρική και αρχαϊκή κεραμική από το "Υπόγειο". Thessaloniki: Centre for the Greek Language, 2012. Pp. 560. ISBN 9789607779519. Contributors: Matthaios Bessios and Antonis Kotsonas

Reviewed by Stefanos Gimatzidis, Austrian Academy of Sciences (stefanos.gimatzidis@oeaw.ac.at)

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This book presents the inscriptions and other incised or painted marks on the pottery from a pit excavated by the Greek Archaeological Service at Methone, Pieria. Pieria is a region in Macedonia, where an excavation boom has taken place over the past thirty years, i.e. after the spectacular discoveries in 1977 at Vergina that have "given rise in certain quarters to a 'nationalist archaeology', closely linked to nationalist history".¹

In the first chapter Tzifopoulos (a philologist), who is the editor of the volume, presents a historical overview of the ancient colony. At the beginning it is difficult to understand his references about the mythological relationship between Pieria and some southern regions like Boeotia (pp. 17–19). However, one gets an idea of what is going to come after reading his unsubstantiated speculations that the Euboeans who colonized Methone did not meet Thracians there, but rather Macedonians who had allegedly already expelled the former (pp. 20–21). There is not any real evidence for this view, which is based solely on the vague and later information of Thucydides about the mythological past of the Macedonians. According to Thucydides, the Macedonians expelled at some time the people of Pieres from their land. Even if we suppose that this is a historical fact, it is still impossible to say where and when this took place. Instead, there is certainly more value in the fact that according to the Greek collective memory Methone used to be a Thracian settlement, which is, however, overlooked.²

In the next chapter, Bessios (an archaeologist working for the local department of the Archaeological Service) presents his excavation. The pit was dug on the top of the east hill, just to the east of the Agora of the ancient city. ³

One of the major problems of this book is the interpretation of the stratigraphy. According to Bessios there were three phases of fill deposit. Nevertheless, a short look at the section drawing (pp. 49) and a careful reading of the new and old information about it shows that the depositional history of the pit is quite different. The section drawing, the description of the deposit and the statement that numerous sherds from the so-called 'phase I' join together with others from 'phase II' clearly illustrate that these must both be regarded as a single phase. Bessios' effort to discern one archaeological phase from another by means of pottery is once again a clear violation of basic archaeological principles. Be that as it may, the sherds from the so-called phase II actually date to the same time as the ones of phase I (see pp. 109–110 [no. 95–97] and pp. 169, 171 [no. 90, 91]). On the other hand, what Bessios regards as a later single phase III, must obviously represent at least two depositional periods due, among other reasons, to the construction of two walls.

Bessios' interpretations of the pit's function do not make use of ordinary archaeological arguments.. Initially he thought that the pit was a multi-stored basement, 11 metres deep, with a continuous stairway that was built after the introduction into the region of a higher form of technology. In this book he presents a new theory according to which the Euboeans did not actually finish the construction of their planned multi-stored basement. For this reason the name ʻΥπόγειο' now appears in quotation marks (pp. 46–51).

In the following chapter Kotsonas (an archaeologist) analyzes the 191 sherds from the pit, which have inscriptions and other marks. Following the footsteps of Bessios he overlooks the significance of the finds as part of closed contexts and does not really comprehend the difference between absolute and relative chronology (pp. 122 and n. 707). It is really difficult to follow his remarks on typology, which derive from recent studies in Macedonia. He does not seem to realize that classification of wares is one thing and ceramic typology another, and there are major methodological problems in the definition of his ceramic groups ("Gattunge" [sic]), wares and shapes/types (pp. 117– 121).⁴

His belief that the pottery production of each settlement in Macedonia as well as in the Aegean was distinctive and had its own fabric, which he thinks he has discovered by studying the 191 sherds from the pit in Methone, is most naïve. His claim that a slightly different fabric must have been produced by immigrant potters is equally naïve (pp. 126–128). The truth is that by "local" one can refer to the pottery production of Pieria or central/west Macedonia etc. and not to that of Methone, Sindos, Vergina etc. Kotsonas' description of the properties of the Gray Wares of Aeolia ("κεραμική τεφρόχρωμου ρυθμού [!]") as if there was a single gray fabric in the Northeast Aegean (pp. 179) is awkward. Yet he attributes a common Aeolian drinking vase to the production of Antissa simply because he judges it similar to another vase with known provenance from that site on Lesvos, which he happened to have seen in some collection (pp. 183)!

Similar peculiarities and inaccuracies are also very common in the typological analysis, which must be treated with caution. If one forgets the awkward attribution of some common linear decorated skyphoi and a monochrome handle (!) to the same potter (pp. 129–130) one is really surprised by the fact that Kotsonas ignores the fact that the hanging horns which appear on the hydria no. 43 are the hallmark of the Macedonian Protogeometric and Subprotogeometric pottery and instead looks for parallels for them on Crete (pp. 142). By discussing the jug with cutaway neck he includes – as usual – an overview of the history of the shape by repeating more specialist work.What he does not comprehend is that the name "hydria" that appears in a Greek summary of the German publication of the handmade pottery of Kastanas as a translation for the jug with cutaway is only a typo. Unfortunately he continues to discuss this as an alternative term for the jug (pp. 144–145). After all this one is not surprised by the typological comparison of a late 8th-century jug with similar shapes of the Middle and Late Helladic period from Aghios Mamas (pp. 140) or that a very common gray burnished ware, which was produced almost everywhere from south Albania to East Macedonia, is thought by Kotsonas to have been exclusively produced in Methone or perhaps in another place in the Thermaic golf (pp. 149). A distinctive category of Late Geometric amphorae, which was presented for the first time a few years ago in a symposium on Thasos and recognized as early Milesian trade amphorae,⁵ are regarded as "Methonean" (pp. 150–154). Chemical analyses of similar finds from other sites, which are in progress, will further highlight their origin. On the occasion of the few fragments of the clearly wheel-made North Aegean trade amphorae of type II from the pit, Kotsonas repeats old information and overlooks, once again, the recent scholarship on their typo- chronological development by means of well-stratified material; he also takes them for handmade.Kotsonas proposes a new name, "Thermaic amphorae" (pp. 155), a rather unfortunate choice for North Aegean trade amphorae because it overlooks the fact that the only piece from an amphora of this category with a known origin was found in a kiln in Torone (where the longest series of their earlier types has also been found) and the only chemical analysis of another piece showed Trojan origin.⁶ More problematic is the attribution of the trade with these amphorae to the Macedonians (pp. 161; 233–235): Macedonians crossed the river Axios and thus reached the regions of the Thermaic Golf and Chalcidice, where these amphorae were produced, only two or three centuries after these vessels had already stopped being produced.

Kotsonas' citations are imprecise. Most of his distribution maps copy earlier works without clearly stating the original source and without adding any significant or real new information. In several cases the information added is actually irrelevant (n. 146) or false (n. 144). The same is true for the distribution of the Subprotogemetric North Aegean trade amphora of type II. In this case after some peculiar comments on his source he lists several new entries, almost all of them belonging to other ceramic categories. (see n. 539).⁷

Kotsonas believes that distribution maps of fine wares are indicators of trade and human mobility (pp. 124; 164–165) and export of Euboean pottery equates Euboean colonization (pp. 232). Moreover, he regards the variability in the origin of the imported pots as an indicator of the nationality of their users and thus concludes that not only Euboeans but also other Greeks settled in Methone (pp. 228–240). More than that he believes that definition of the imports and local imitations of pottery can highlight their potter's identity (imported pottery equates trade, local imitations equate imported potters…) (pp. 132; 236).

Instead of the anxious repetition of old information (often without stating the source), one would expect clear stratigraphic indications, trustworthy descriptions and drawings that are not available. The latter are usually so inaccurate that one sometimes thinks that they depict another vase than the one in the accompanying photo (see i.e. pp. 354, no. 10).⁸

Finally, the chapter is missing a synthetic analysis and interpretation of the inscribed pottery in its context (pp. 219– 240).

In the following chapter Tzifopoulos discusses the inscriptions and other marks on the sherds of Methone. The attribution of an inscription on an Aeolian drinking vase to the Aeolic alphabet is contradicted by Richard Janko, who convincingly shows that this is in Euboean script.⁹ Tzifopoulos' effort to show that some other quite fragmentary inscriptions in Methone could be of non-Euboean origin (pp. 311–312) is equally unpersuasive.

The frankest part of the book is without doubt the epilogue signed by all three authors. I shall quote here, in translation, only a few sentences: "waves of colonizers settled at Methone with the full consent of the locals" (who according to their theories were Macedonians) (pp. 324–325); "pottery as well as inscriptions attest that Eretrians lived side by side in Methone not only with the locals (Macedonians) but also with Greeks from other regions. The role of the locals was not diminished but improved after the settlement of the colonizers" (pp. 325)… "The finds reject old views…and prove that…Macedonia was an integral part of the united Aegean world of the Panhellenes" (pp. 327). The conclusion of the book – based mostly on misinterpretation ofpottery distribution – is that Macedonians not only traded in the 8th century as far as Pithekoussai together with other Greeks (as Kotsonas implies), but they also received settlers from many regions of Greece as friends and civilizers during the 8th century BC in Methone. The authors imply that this is a strong argument for the identity of Macedonians. It becomes thus clear that while an intensive discussion on the manipulation of archaeology for nationalist and colonialist purposes is going on globally, the good old Balkan nationalism is still haunting North Greek archaeology.

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Notes:

1.   J.K. Papadopoulos, The Early Iron Age Cemetery at Torone (Los Angeles 2005) 9.
2.   See M. Tiverios, Greek Colonisation of the Northern Aegean. In: G.R. Tsetskhladze (ed.), Greek Colonisation: An Account of Greek Colonies and other Settlements Overseas, 2. Mnemosyne Suppl. 193 (Leiden/Boston 2008) 18.
3.   In this book Bessios avoids referring to the extensive use of a bulldozer for the excavation of the pit – as he did in his preliminary reports – that resulted in the loss of its upper levels and destroyed once and for all the archaeological landscape by removing the earth around it.
4.   For similar comments see A.L. D'Agata, Review of Antonis Kotsonas, The Archaeology of Tomb A1K1 of Orthi Petra in Eleutherna: The Early Iron Age pottery. Gnomon 83, 2011, 337–341.
5.   S. Gimatzidis, Πρώιμοι ελληνικοί εμπορικοί αμφορείς. In: Thasos. Métropole et colonies. Symposium International à la mémoire de Marina Sgourou, 21–22 septembre 2006, Musée Archéologique de Thasos et „Καλογερικό" de Thasos (forthcoming).
6.   S. Gimatzidis, Die Stadt Sindos. Eine Siedlung von der späten Bronze- bis zur Klassischen Zeit am Thermaischen Golf in Makedonien. Prähist. Arch. Südosteuropa 26 (Rahden/Westf. 2010) 262–264, fig. 82; 375– 376.
7.   Cf. supra.
8.   Furthermore, there are significant grammatical shortcomings such as "επιπεδούμενος ώμος" (instead of "επίπεδος") [pp. 141; 142], "Ο ώμος...φέρει...ομάδες γραμμώσεων..." (instead of "γραμμών") [pp. 135], "...τα αγγεία... παρουσιάζουν ελαφρά, αμελή τροπίδωση" [pp. 129], to mention only a few.
9.   See R. Janko, From Gordion and Gabii to Eretria and Methone: the rise of the Greek alphabet. In: A. J. Strauss Clay/Rengakos/Y. Tzifopoulos, Panhellenes at Methone: graphê in Late Geometric and Protoarchaic Methone, Macedonia (ca 700 BCE) (forthcoming). I owe many thanks to Prof. Richard Janko for his kindness in letting me refer to his unpublished manuscript.

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Gijs Willem Tol, A Fragmented History: a Methodological and Artefactual Approach to the Study of Ancient Settlement in the Territories of Satricum and Antium. Groningen archaeological studies, 18. Eelde; Groningen: Barkhuis; Groningen University Library, 2012. Pp. xvi, 405. ISBN 9789491431036. $87.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Christopher Smith, University of St Andrews/British School at Rome (cjs6@st-and.ac.uk)

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This comprehensive and important contribution to the study of southern Latium emerges from the long-term work of the Groningen Institute of Archaeology around Antium and Satricum (Borgo le Ferriere). It explicitly addresses problems with survey archaeology and therefore reflects the intense methodological approach which has characterised both Dutch and British work on field survey over the past twenty years.¹

Tol reconsiders the Astura and Nettuno surveys, both already published, in part by Tol himself, who is therefore extremely well-placed to take this extra look at the data.² The work begins with a methodological introduction which considers the way in which survey is conducted and how its results are extrapolated for the study of socio- economic factors. Tol notes that survey has problems with site recovery, site typology and site chronology, well- known difficulties for the finer grained analysis one might wish to conduct. This relates particularly to socio- economic issues.

Chapter 1 considers the historical and archaeological evidence already available. Antium and Satricum have been looked at in detail; Satricum has been the object of decades of excellent Dutch research. Mid-Republican evidence for Antium is sufficient to support the idea of a Roman colony on the site, as the sources claim; villas were constructed along the coast in the later Republic, and there was a building boom in the first two centuries AD with strong imperial support. Satricum is better known for its archaic phase, with houses, a temple and evidence of a necropolis; the Republican and imperial period are less well represented. Tol then considers the attestations for the oppidum of Caenon and an emporion and road station at Astura, the archaeological evidence for coastal villas and rural settlement and the tomb known as the Torre de Monumento. Roads must have existed but are underrepresented in the archaeological evidence.

An appendix to this chapter publishes what survives of a third-century BC votive deposit from near Anzio; the remains in the antiquarium at Nettuno consisted only of the black glaze ware fragments. The material appears to have been recovered from caves under the Villa Sarsina in the 19^th century.

Chapter 2 returns to methodology. The problems inherent in dating by pottery in surface scatters remain; the date ranges are uneven, and the presentation in histograms gives false impressions. Site function is often attributed vaguely and on the basis of loose interpretation of literary evidence; site development is often obscured both by the material and by its presentation. In order to counteract some of these issues, return visits to survey areas were coupled with two chronological devices: first, the reconstruction of the chronology of each site using the full date range of any given ceramic find; and second, the division of periods into equal blocks of 150 years.

Revisiting sites increased the number of sites and improved the amount of data but did not substantially change the general settlement trends. Chronologies were confirmed or extended by the new material.

A second methodological case study came from studying the largely unpublished material in the storerooms of the antiquarium at Nettuno, mostly collected in the 1970s and 1980s. The generally high quality of finds permitted the evidence for the status and function of sites to be improved, and also increased information for the Republican and especially the later periods. It is unsurprising that the material was on the whole more decorative and aesthetically interesting.

A third approach to the data was through four new intensive surveys of sites in the Nettuno area previously identified in the larger survey. Two or three walkers worked on four by four metre grids, collecting all available material, which was then classified in the field and weighed. Some metal detecting was also used. The data were then used to produce distributions by number and by weight of fragments, and also by date. One site continues to be considered probably a farmstead; another originally identified as an outbuilding may be a roadside shrine, with painted walls and exotic marble in the floor; a third has become from study a villa rustica more complex than previously thought. More significant changes came with regard to lengthened chronologies of use.

Fourthly, an area on the river Astura was excavated. It was predominantly active between the fourth and sixth centuries AD, with local and imported pottery, coins, lamps, glass, bone, metal and animal remains, and there is some evidence for pottery production of a ceramic painted with red bands. Its earlier identification by Piccareta as the road station mentioned in the Tabula Peutingeriana now seems certain, and confirms a general pattern of decreased importance of urban settlement in favour of road stations from Campania north to Etruria in the late imperial period.³ A revival in the 12^th and 13^th centuries is also attested.

The work concludes with a diachronic discussion arguing for a vigorous archaic period, especially at Satricum; decline in the fifth century (the period of Volscian incursions); rural infill in the middle Republic continuing into the late Republic, with increasing evidence of international trade; a flourishing period at Antium in the early and middle empire; decline in the later empire, with the rise of the Astura vicus; and some early medieval evidence. The work has led to a greater variety of sites, and chronological decisions taken have stretched the dates of some sites, but site development remains elusive.

Regarding socio-economic matters, on the basis of the new material Tol makes the case for the contribution of locally produced wares to exchange systems. Fluctuations in pottery consumption might be seen as proxies for economic change – and the consequence of the data is to flatten out abrupt change, and reduce evidence for decline. Tol is coy about where the data lead regarding high versus low counting in terms of demography, but the data do indicate that many of the sites now appearing were not used for habitation. Town-country relations are considered; some material seems unlikely to have been exchanged through urban markets, but imported pottery tells a different story.

Tol's conclusion is that the intensity of this study has revealed valuable results, and is therefore the way forward. He writes, 'I am convinced that large-scale, consistent and intensive sampling provides us with the best opportunity to study and identify similarities and differences in economic exchange and consumption' (p. 386); and this conviction has been rewarded with a major new grant to study 'minor central places.'

This is an excellent piece of work; mature and assured which fits with the long series of outstanding Dutch work, led by Peter Attema. Students of methodology and those interested in central Italy will benefit from the careful presentation of the results (it is characterised by substantial illustrations of local coarseware) and the intriguing results.⁴ It is instructive to read it alongside the other doctoral thesis produced at the same time by the project, by T. C. A. de Haas, who focuses on Roman colonization and uses a off-site survey data.⁵

Tol makes a determined argument for the methodological value of his survey approach, and this will need more discussion. At the moment, the tendency towards restudy is strong. In part this is because of a clear recognition of the limits of broader surveys, and those arguments are well made. But is there a sense in which restudy, and intensive survey, simply compound the problems? The core problem has always been that pottery is a proxy for human activity. Recovery rates are poor, but deposition rates are utterly unpredictable. The uncertainty between whether we are seeing half a dozen pots being dropped over fifty years or continuous human presence over one hundred and fifty years on a small site can be overcome to some extent in individual cases by contextual data and good sense. Can it be managed better by intensive survey? Methodologically, it might be argued that Tol has replaced artificially sharp changes with artificially smoothed transitions. What we are still looking at is an archaeological record which relates to, but does not mirror, human behaviour. As a consequence, in any individual site, there may have been any number of variations in continuity versus discontinuity, but the archaeology is not fine grained enough to tell.

T. himself points out that site development has been resistant to his methods. This is no criticism of his work; site development is revealed even in the best preserved sites like Ostia and Pompeii only by the most painstaking work. However, there is an open question about how well-preserved a building has to be to entertain revisiting. We need to be very open to the possibility of a landscape of rather rickety buildings which were occasionally visited in the context of a world of regular rapid crossings and individual transactions, rather than one of formal building and complete abandonment.

Tol must be right that movement and exchange at the smallest scale must be both responsive to and productive of economic activity at a larger level; there must have been some multiplication of individual acts to broader trends. The further work of the Dutch teams will be very welcome in trying to get from site to trend. However, scaling up is difficult from partial evidence. There is an inevitable danger that we will have exactly what we had before; incompatible data for highly localised phenomena telling us about the vital variability of the ancient world. Boxing things into similar-sized chronological containers will at best conceal that; it will not create comparability.⁶ Where Tol makes a very telling point, however, is that local pottery production and exchange may have been underplayed in modern scholarship. This is where one might well start to look for much more systematic petrographic analysis of local wares.

In short, this is a valuable contribution to the debate over survey and its future. It could be argued that it puts too much faith in the capacity of ever-increasing levels of detail to reveal information at an appropriate level of return to effort, and there are of course other methodologies which might be deployed; geophysics, aerial photography and LIDAR are just some. However, the results of this specific reinterpretation of the data in southern Latium continue to add to our knowledge of a fascinating area.

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Notes:

1.   For a recent volume of essays on survey methodologies see F. Vermeulen, G-J. Burgers, S. Keay and C. Corsi (eds.) Urban Landscape Survey in Italy and the Mediterranean (Oxford, 2012).
2.   P. A. J. Attema, H. Feiken, T. C. A. de Haas, G. W. Tol, 'The Astura and Nettuno surveys of the Pontine Region Project (2003-2005). First Report,' Palaeohistoria 49/50, 415-516, and P. A. J. Attema, T.C.A. de Haas, G. W. Tol, 'The Astura and Nettuno surveys of the Pontine Region Project (2003-2005). Second Report,' Palaeohistoria 51/52, 169-327.
3.   F. Piccarretta, Astura (Florence, 1977), in the Forma Italiae series.
4.   For a summary of the overall project's work in the Pontine region, see P. Attema, T. de Haas, G. Tol, Between Satrium and Antium: Settlement Dynamics in a Coastal Landscape in Latium Vetus (BABESCH Supplement 18) (Leuven, 2011).
5.   T. C. A. de Haas, Fields, Farms and Colonists: intensive Field Survey and Early Roman Colonization in the Pontine Region, Central Italy (Groningen, 2011).
6.   For a highly pertinent attempt to scale up survey data to produce higher level analysis, see A. Launaro, Peasants and Slaves: The Rural Population of Roman Italy (200 BC to AD 100) (Cambridge, 2011), who compares twenty-seven archaeological surveys – but not the Pontine Regional Project, which nevertheless now seems to cohere with his other data.

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C. Brian Rose, Gareth Darbyshire (ed.), The New Chronology of Iron Age Gordion. Gordion special studies, 6. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 2011. Pp. xiv, 181. ISBN 9781934536445. $69.95.

Reviewed by Naoíse Mac Sweeney, University of Leicester (nm241@le.ac.uk)

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Preview

The New Chronology of Iron Age Gordion is the latest, and perhaps the most eagerly awaited, of the volumes in the 'Gordion special studies' series. The chronology of the Iron Age in Anatolia remains notoriously obscure, and has proved a stumbling block for scholarship due to the lack of evidence available, especially in central and western Anatolia. Anatolian archaeologists have long looked to the site of Gordion to help solve this problem. Gordion, the capital of Phrygia and the seat of King Midas, would have been an important centre in the Iron Age. Indeed, the site identified as Gordion offers a rare opportunity to investigate a largely unbroken Iron Age stratigraphic sequence, and to establish a firmer chronology for the Iron Age in Anatolia as a whole.

The site was first investigated in the early twentieth century, and a chronology established which depended substantially on classical and Neo-Assyrian literary sources, using the reign of Midas and the invasion of the Kimmerians as key chronological points. However, new excavations and the application of scientific dating techniques over the last decade have prompted a dramatic revision of this chronology. The entire Iron Age sequence is now thought to be much earlier than previously thought, with some levels being re-dated by up to two hundred years. The destruction of the monumental Early Phrygian citadel, for example, is now thought to have taken place in the late 9^th century, rather than the early 7^th century, BC. The implications of this revised chronology are substantial, not only for those interested in Phrygia and central Anatolia, but also for those interested in the Iron Age throughout the eastern Mediterranean. The new Gordion chronology has therefore generated a great deal of interest and excitement, as well as debate. This edited volume offers, for the first time, a comprehensive discussion of the new chronology, both from a methodological and an interpretive point of view.

The book opens with a brief introduction, which gives the reader a clear overview of the history of research at Gordion, and a short explanation of the key differences between the old and new Iron Age chronologies. This introduction is followed by two historiographical chapters. The first of these is written by Keith DeVries, and discusses in more detail the excavations under the Körte brothers and Rodney Young up until 1973, focusing on the establishment of the traditional chronology. DeVries highlights three key points underpinning the traditional chronology. The first is the destruction layer at the end of the Early Phrygian Period (YHSS 6A), which was dated to c.690 on the basis of literary texts about the Kimmerian invasion and subsequent death of Midas. The second is the burial in Tumulus MM (the so-called 'Midas Mound'), which was assigned a date in the early eighth century due to a single artefact that had parallels in Neo-Assyrian art under Sargon II. The third is the monumental rebuilding of the citadel, which was thought to have happened some time after the destruction in the sixth century, either during the time of Lydian expansion or under Persian rule. The role played by literary sources, both classical and Neo-Assyrian, in the creation of the traditional chronology is evident. The second chapter, by Mary Voigt and Keith DeVries, describes how the body of evidence against the old chronology grew over the course of the 1950s-90s, culminating in the radical revision of the chronology in the early 2000s. This chapter makes for engaging reading, developing its plots and subplots like a detective story, and describing the slow accumulation of evidence from radiocarbon dating, finds of imported Greek pottery, comparisons of architectural style, survey archaeology and detailed stratigraphic analysis. Taken together, these two chapters provide a novel insight into archaeological history, prompting reflections not only on the site of Gordion itself, but also on the development of archaeological theory and method over the course of the twentieth century.

The following four chapters each provide a detailed analysis of the main classes of evidence which have been crucial in establishment of Gordion's chronology: textual material, artefacts and ceramics, dendrochronology, and radiocarbon dating.

Chapter 3, also by DeVries, offers a comprehensive discussion of the textual sources relevant for the chronology of Gordion. It provides references for the figure of Midas in the Greek, Roman and Byzantine traditions, as well as in the Neo-Assyrian texts. It also includes a short section on the textual sources for the Kimmerians in Anatolia. The ambiguity of all of these textual sources is highlighted, and the many contradictions between them. DeVries does not offer explanations for this, but there is an implied critique of positivist readings of these texts, and the suggestion that a more nuanced reading of the texts as literary constructions may be more fruitful.

Chapter 4, by Kenneth Sams, focuses on the finds from Gordion. Sams considers a range of different classes of material, including carved stone orthostats, bronze fibulae, arrowheads, and a fragmentary Phrygian inscription. Where individual objects have been used as keystones for chronology, their archaeological contexts are closely considered, and parallels are discussed. Sams also presents the ceramics, focusing particularly on vessels with painted animal decoration, and fine black-polished wares. This evidence from finds, Sams tells us, is consistent with the new chronology for the Iron Age. However, the new chronology also has some significant implications for the interpretation of some of these finds. Sams mentions this briefly in the context of certain pottery styles, but does not go into detail about it here.

Chapter 5 is the longest chapter of the book, and presents the dendrochonological work done at Gordion. Ian Kuniholm, Maryanne Newton and Richard Liebhart introduce the history of dendrochronological analysis at the site, which goes back to the late 1950s. The chapter goes on to discuss the establishment of a full Anatolian dendrochronological chart, and highlights some of the non-chronological insights that can be gained from analysis of the wooden remains. A longer discussion describes the various techniques used over the year to achieve absolute dates in the dendrochronological sequence, including use of radiocarbon. The methodological discussion is full, and includes reflections on sampling strategies, statistical methods, and the potential pitfalls of radiocarbon. A detailed appendix with tables, graphs and accompanying commentary allows readers to explore the research further.

The sixth chapter, by Sturt Manning and Bernd Kromer, is concerned with the radiocarbon dating of the site, and focuses in particular on the Early Phrygian destruction layer (YHSS 6A). The chapter summarises all the radiocarbon dating work conducted at Gordion up until 2010, explicitly addressing the potential problems with the data and making reference to the tree-ring samples first mentioned in Chapter 5. Once again, this chapter contains detailed discussion of sampling methods and tools of analysis, presenting raw data as well as interpretation. This chapter, like the others before it, concludes in favour of the new Iron Age chronology.

The final concluding chapter, by Kenneth Sams and Mary Voigt, summarises the latest understanding of Gordion's development over the Iron Age, describing the various complex phases of construction and re-construction from the tenth until the fourth century BC. The establishment of the new chronology has meant that a clearer picture can be gained of the site's development, and new interpretations must be put forward for its history. Sams and Voigt highlight some areas where the new chronology has brought forth new insights, such as the sequence and occupants of the tumulus burials, and the character of Kimmerian activity in Anatolia. However, the implications of the new Gordion chronology for Anatolian and Near Eastern archaeology are far broader than any of the authors, in their modesty, claim. The idea of a 'Dark Age' in the Early Iron Age has long been critiqued, but with back-dating of the monumental Gordion remains into the tenth century, this idea must finally be abandoned. The political map of the Near East must also be redrafted, to take into account Gordion as a peer and contemporary of the Neo-Hittite states in the east. Finally, the comprehensive publication of this work allows other scholars to build on the research done at Gordion, to shed even more light on the Anatolian Iron Age.

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David Brakke, Deborah Deliyannis, Edward Watts (ed.), Shifting Cultural Frontiers in Late Antiquity. Farnham; Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2012. Pp. xi, 286. ISBN 9781409441496. $119.95.

Reviewed by Richard Flower, University of Exeter (r.flower@exeter.ac.uk)

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Table of Contents

This volume is the latest from the Shifting Frontiers conference series, in this case presenting revised versions of twenty papers from the eighth instalment, held at Indiana University in 2009.¹ As David Brakke's brief introduction makes clear, the titular frontiers are to be interpreted in numerous ways, emphasising various late- antique peripheries: 'the borders of empires, of social classes, of public and private spaces, of literary genres, of linguistic communities' (1). The collection therefore discusses various forms of literature, as well as epigraphic, artistic and archaeological material, while the geographical span is broad, although with a particular focus on the eastern empire and North Africa. Nonetheless, the centre is alive and well within these explorations of the margins. Those readers who relish the display and depiction of imperial power will not find themselves disappointed here, with excellent chapters on Ammianus Marcellinus and the Constantinopolitan column of Arcadius by Jan Willem Drijvers and John Matthews respectively. Similarly, the central figure of Augustine of Hippo is the subject of perceptive discussions by Jennifer Ebbeler and Gillian Clark. Some of the papers do contain references to others elsewhere in the volume, but they remain, primarily, discrete explorations of particular issues.

The first four chapters, gathered under the title of 'Shared Intellectual Space', all concern the Middle East. They open with David Michelson's fascinating exploration of Philoxenos of Mabbug, the early sixth-century bishop who presided over a new Syriac translation of the New Testament. Michelson deftly outlines Philoxenos' concern that translation might involve interpretation (and thus misinterpretation), which led him to produce an extremely literal text which kept as close as possible to the original, giving readers of Syriac access to Scripture, but allowing 'the Greek text to dictate its own linguistic terms' so that those who knew no Greek 'could use a text which for all extents and purposes was the same thing, incomprehensible statements and all' (21). This is followed by Ellen Muehlberger's neat argument for the essential thematic unity of the hymns of Ephrem Syrus, as opposed to the traditional division between his 'historical' works on the sufferings of Nisibis and his 'literary' works, which include imagined dialogues between Death and Satan. This analysis is informed by Julia Kristeva's conception of the 'abject', although it does not seem to me that this is required for Muehlberger's thesis to work.²

Kathleen Gibbons turns the clock back further to the start of the third century and Bardaisan of Edessa's Book of the Laws of the Countries, in which he put forward a theory of human autonomy in opposition to Marcionite theology and astrological fatalism. The resulting explanation of human behaviour as the interaction of fate, natural constitution and individual choice allowed Bardaisan to argue that Christians were 'free to act against the social norms of their particular societies with respect to those customs that define them as Christians' (45). Gibbons therefore neatly illuminates Bardaisan's construction of Christianity in ethnographic terms. This first part of the book is rounded off by Anne Kreps' exploration of the changing uses of the Hebrew term am ha-aretz, which seems to have taken on a similar meaning to paganus in late antiquity. This chapter presents a number of interesting ideas, although it is somewhat difficult to follow for a non-expert.

The second quartet is titled 'High and Low Cultural Negotiation' and opens with a brief and highly informative piece by Hal Drake on medieval legends concerning the discovery of the True Cross. As well as comparing these to the account by the sixth-century author Alexander the Monk, Drake astutely explains how this tale, in which the wood of the cross appears at significant moments throughout biblical history, presents the preordination of the Crucifixion in a manner comprehensible to a wider audience.

The next pair of papers looks at two very different fourth-century writers: in analysing the final books of Ammianus Marcellinus, covering the reigns of Valentinian I and Valens, Jan Willem Drijvers demonstrates lucidly how the historian criticised the imperial brothers and their political culture for lacking the crucial qualities of honour and paideia which characterised his own conception of imperial rule; meanwhile, Cristiana Sogno tiptoes carefully through the minefield of the Historia Augusta, highlighting how the biographies written under the pseudonym of Flavius Vopiscus claim that their supposed artlessness acts as a guarantee of their reliability, in contrast to historians and panegyrists, 'who both privilege verba over res' (84). As Sogno notes, this plays with the claims of accuracy made by contemporary historians while also paralleling the rhetoric of many fourth-century Christian authors. These themes of imperial power and self-positioning are also picked up by Charles Pazdernik's chapter on late-antique imperial courts as places where skilful politicians could walk (or claim to walk) the fine line between excessive libertas/parrhesia and abject sycophancy, in order to further their own or the state's interests.

The book's third section brings Augustine to the fore. Jennifer Ebbeler suggests that, in terming his communications with Donatists as litterae pacificae, Augustine was alluding not to the letters which welcomed former schismatics back into communion, but rather to the libelli of forgiveness given out by confessors in the Decian persecution, as well as to the efforts of Cyprian of Carthage to bring this practice under episcopal control. This therefore allowed him to cast himself as the combined successor of these third-century Christian heroes, who were important to Catholics and Donatists alike. In contrast, Gillian Clark gives us an Augustine who was not striving to control the script tightly, since he did not prescribe a scriptural curriculum for new Christians. Clark goes on to survey other ancient authors, concluding that, in contrast to the attitudes towards key texts among late-antique Platonists, 'Christian leaders did not offer their people a preferred sequence for reading the scriptures' (160). For Clark, this recognition by Augustine that one could not police the reading habits or thoughts of every believer is a small example that runs counter to 'the claim that Christianity transformed a tolerant pluralist culture by means of a totalizing discourse of repression' (163).³ These discussions also serve to remind us of the variety of attitudes within Christianity, and even across the writings of a single bishop.

After Raymond Capra's brief exploration of what he identifies as 'Christian' and 'pagan' influences on the poetry of Dioscoros of Aphrodito, James Francis provides the first chapter to examine visual material, in this case as presented in late-antique texts. Moving through Homer, Lucian and Philostratus to arrive at Ammianus, Julian and Athanasius, this clear discussion examines literary equations of living people with images, as used by both pagans and Christians. Kate da Costa then opens the 'Material and Popular Culture' section of the volume with a detailed exploration of Levantine ceramic lamps. A small number of these bear depictions of faces, which da Costa identifies as Greek-style theatrical masks and thus as representing 'foreign' culture, in contrast to the majority of Levantine lamps, which do not conform to a 'Mediterranean' style. This local preference is notable, but perhaps it might be too bold an assertion to claim that these lamps 'reveal a significant expression of cultural resistance' (167). Leslie Dossey also provides a reading of archaeological material as an indication of social change, offering the intriguing hypothesis that the sub-division of some late-antique domestic buildings may have resulted from changing attitudes towards privacy, with each married couple now wanting their own cubiculum. Dossey does not dismiss other explanations for this domestic phenomenon, but instead comes to the reasonable conclusion that 'to characterize the subdivision of houses and villas merely as "squatter" habitation would be a mistake' (197). This paper could therefore have wider implications for competing narratives concerning the end of antiquity.

The next three chapters find us back in the familiar surroundings of the late-antique city. Sofie Remijsen advances a clear and convincing argument that the higher-status, 'professional' athletes of the classical world disappeared by the late fourth century, being replaced by two distinct groups: rich amateurs, who competed in the remaining great competitions, and lowly entertainers, who appeared in circus games, as attested at Oxyrhynchus. John Matthews then gives a richly illustrated reading of the lost helical frieze on the column of Arcadius in Constantinople, which depicted the expulsion from the city of the Gothic commander Gainas in 400 and which is recorded in detail in a collection of sixteenth-century sketches. Matthews concentrates on the decorative scheme on the prominent south face, concluding, amongst other things, that the city of Constantinople itself was frequently depicted there, as 'the central character in its own story' (223). This section ends with Jinyu Liu's case studies of the late antique fora in Cuicul and Praeneste, including speculations on the religious affiliations of some honorands in the latter city.

The volume concludes with three regionally-focused papers: Eric Fournier looks at rebaptism of Catholics by Homoian Vandals, as described by Victor of Vita; Guido Berndt provides an informative history of the Suani, a northern Caucasian people who found themselves on the front line between the superpowers of Rome and Persia; and Christine Delaplace reinterprets the Visigothic 'conquest of the Auvergne'. For Fournier, the Vandals' use of the practice of repeated baptism, so closely associated with the Donatists, formed a way for these two groups to 'consolidate their political hatred of Catholics' (254). This is possible, although it is notable that Victor did not take this opportunity to complain that the Donatists had allied themselves with 'Arian' heretics, as Athanasius had done with the rigorist Meletians in fourth-century Egypt.⁴ Perhaps, rather than being a deliberate anti-Catholic move, rebaptism represented either the assimilation of a peculiarly African religious practice by incoming Vandals or its retention by Donatists who converted to Homoian Christianity.

Delaplace's re-reading of Sidonius plausibly characterises Euric's takeover of the Auvergne not as an expansionist act during a power vacuum, but rather as part of the civil war between Ricimer and Anthemius. The Goths therefore become part of the 'legitimist' camp, supporting the emperors Anthemius and Julius Nepos, while Sidonius Apollinaris, the self-styled defender of Romanitas, was allied with the Burgundians against them. The battle in 471, in which Anthemius' son Anthemiolus was killed fighting the Goths, may still be more of sticking point that Delaplace acknowledges, but nonetheless this fascinating hypothesis deserves further consideration.

With such varied topics, it is hard to identify a single theme that could bring together Philoxenos of Mabbug's translation anxieties, honorific statues in an Italian forum, Vandal rebaptism and Egyptian circus performers. The volume does not, however, make any grand claims about the thematic unity of its chapters, so it would be churlish to complain about its absence, especially since few people except editors and reviewers sit down and read conference volumes from cover to cover. Nonetheless, the question of 'high' and 'low' culture pervades not only the four chapters gathered under that rubric, but also a number of other contributions, particularly those by da Costa, Dossey and Remijsen. While these pieces all employ, redefine or disrupt these terms according to their individual agenda, the cumulative effect of their treatments of this topic keeps the reader engaged with these difficult concepts. Like the label of 'pagan', these distinctions are recognised as problematic (hence their placement within the protective frame of scare quotes), but also as possessing too much meaning and utility to be abandoned entirely. We know that there was no rigid divide between 'high' and 'low' cultures, between the pleasures, concerns and ideologies of 'the elite' and 'the masses', and yet we are simultaneously aware that it would be equally unsatisfactory to homogenise the cultural products and experiences of an empire, a region or even a single city, or to fail to recognise distinctions and disagreements within any individual ethnic or religious identity. This volume does not offer a clear way out of this quandary (nor does this reviewer), but the twenty chapters bear witness to the complexity and richness of late- antique societies and the many possible avenues for their interpretation.⁵

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Notes:

1.   For some earlier volumes, see 2010.09.31, 2007.09.23, 2005.10.12, 2004.07.41 and 2003.01.23.
2.   J. Kristeva, Pouvoirs de l'horreur: essai sur l'abjection, Paris, 1980.
3.   For the phrase 'totalizing discourse', see Averil Cameron, Christianity and the Rhetoric of Empire: the Development of Christian Discourse, Berkeley, 1991, 220.
4.   Athanasius, Ad episcopos Aegypti et Libyae 23.3.
5.   I noticed a few typos, a couple of which stood out: in the title of Guido Berndt's chapter, 'Caucasus' is misspelt as 'Causasus', while on page 225 there is a rather unfortunate description of the forum as 'a locale for epigraphic display and exhibition of pubic portraits'.

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Neil Christie, The Fall of the Western Roman Empire: an Archaeological and Historical Perspective. Historical Endings. London; New York: Bloomsbury Academic, 2011. Pp. xi, 306. ISBN 9781849663373. $100.00.

Reviewed by Damián Fernández, Northern Illinois University (dfernandez@niu.edu)

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The Fall of the Western Roman Empire: An Archaeological and Historical Perspective undeniably belongs in Bloomsbury Academic's series 'Historical Endings.' The books's Introduction sets the tone of Christie's project. Titled 'Questioning Decline in the Late Roman West,' the chapter advances the book's main hermeneutical strategy. Contrasting Victor de Vita's testimony on Vandal destruction in North Africa with the relative absence, at the archaeological level, of any signs of damage, Christie claims that the written/material contrast can show 'how archaeology provides its own eyes to observe and discuss this period of significant political reworking…' (4). And he successfully does so, by providing numerous archaeological (and literary) examples inserted within the context of this 'historical ending.' I will focus this review on what I consider the major strength of the book: an absolute lack of shyness with taking positions in the field's historiographical debates. In what follows, I will present how the author positions himself within the core debates of late antique historiography.

The book starts with a narrative history of the late second through fifth centuries. In Chapter 1, wars and military affairs receive a great deal of attention, as his core assumption relates the 'fall' to external, chiefly military events (and not supposed internal weaknesses). The chapter covers the period's main events from the imperial perspective up to the late fifth century. A final section on the sixth century would have been useful, since other sections of the book are, fortunately, not bounded by the alleged political break of the fifth century.

Chapters 2 and 3 purport to deal with military and defensive affairs, but can be more accurately described as a history of late-Roman statehood, since the army and the defensive system was Rome's largest budgetary item and chief administrative concern. These chapters tackle the issue of whether the late Roman empire had a 'grand strategy' or not. The answer offered is a mixed one, describing a centralized but evolving system of planning combined with occasional spur-of-the-moment decisions taken in response to immediate challenges. First, the author outlines the skeleton and muscle of the imperial military organization: chain of command, infrastructure, and army supply. A discussion of the role of barbarians in the army and the empire in general follows. The author counters claims about a drastic 'barbarization' of the army and shows that barbarians belong to the late Roman military or frontier universe. In terms of the defensive infrastructure, Christie favors the hypothesis that the defensive landscape evolved over time rather than the theory of a synchronic program during the Tetrarchy. As Christie does not omit to mention, the transformations of the army and its defensive strategies resulted not only from adaptations to the 'third-century crisis' but also from the changing threats of the fourth century. These chapters remind the reader that in spite of all its problems, the empire's military and defensive policies (the 'barbarian question' included) were effective and faced external pressures with relative success until the Battle at Adrianople in 378.

Chapters 4 and 5 address late antique cities. The author relates changes in topography, especially with regard to monumental architecture, to the local notables' abandonment of public benefactions from the third century onwards. The central section of the chapter describes seven cities with seemingly different trajectories: Barcelona, London, Iol Caesarea, Gorsium, Trier, and Falerii Novi. An overarching economic approach permeates these chapters and becomes particularly clear when Christie relates the abandonment of bathing complexes and entertainment buildings to their maintenance cost, rather than to the supposed impact of Christianity. The logic of his argument resides in the impoverishment of local elites in contrast to the economic muscle of the fourth-century imperial state, which was able to effect noticeable interventions in provincial capitals and in the empire's main administrative centers (the book mentions the 'oppressiveness' of the late Roman state on several occasions). The effects of state intervention are still better illustrated in Chapter 5, which is entirely devoted to imperial capitals. Christie chooses to focus on Rome, Milan, and Ravenna because, in his opinion, 'the Italian capitals represent the enduring imperial attachment to the home and core province' (142). The chapter compares the relative impact of the imperial state and the church over these three cities' landscapes, which knew markedly different fates during late antiquity.

In Chapter 6, Christie surveys the impact of Christianity in the western provinces. His underlying narrative opposes the idea that stark transformations resulted from religious change. The key to understanding this process of transformation, according to Christie, is the role of elites in urban and rural contexts. Three case studies illustrate the 'end of paganism': the imperial cult, the cult of Mithras, and rural shrines. In the first two cases, Christie paints the picture of a slow but marked abandonment in the first half of the fourth century, whereas 'paganism' in the countryside proves more resilient. In the author's opinion, the Christianization of urban topography resulted from a flowing of private wealth combined with the actions of Christian bishops and religious impresarios. The 'Christianization of the space' in both urban and rural settings was a slow-paced evolution that would not be fully realized until the fifth century, if not later. This 'thin Christianization' is even clearer in the three regional studies offered by Christie: Noricum, Pannonia, and Britain (a refreshing reminder that there is religious history beyond Africa, Italy, and Gaul).

The economy and infrastructure are the central themes of Chapter 7. Christie's main goal is to assess the impact of military events and state policies on the empire's overall economic activity. After reviewing evidence relating to communication and transport, the author argues that the infrastructural skeleton of the empire did not suffer any major collapse until at least the early fifth century, when changes became noticeable in several parts of the Mediterranean (although the meaning of these changes cannot be fully assessed). Likewise, when dealing with changes in distribution networks during the late empire, Christie argues that the seeming waning of long-distance trade may have resulted from increasingly locally-oriented markets rather than a stagnating or declining economy. In general, his argument on trade supports the theory that the Rhine frontier and economic consumption in Rome were still the principal driving forces of the economy. Only the early fifth century would introduce a major break in large scale late Roman distribution patterns. Production, on the contrary, faced fewer challenges in the fifth century. Christie argues that agriculture and husbandry were very likely uninterrupted, with the only noticeable change being the abandonment of villas at different points between the fourth and the fifth centuries.

Post-Roman Britain, Noricum, and Italy, and a glance at the fate of the Bavarians and Moors, are the central themes of Chapter 8. Its purpose is to consider their 'relative levels of decay, decline and continuity' (210). These cases follow divergent post Roman paths, in which the ancien régime is transformed to various degrees depending on the region. As would be expected, the analysis concludes that there was a greater degree of continuity in the Mediterranean kingdoms, while the border regions coped with the withdrawal of the Roman administration by abandoning the markers of Roman culture (or adopting those of newcomers).

It is not completely clear whether the book questions the concept of decline (which the author affirms as his intent in the introduction) or whether it simply qualifies it by showing regional and chronological differences. The language of 'decline and fall' is certainly present at various moments in the book. But it is combined with a healthy dose of the semantic field of change-and-transformation, which is more in line with Christie's previous scholarship. The book cannot be placed within the 'end of civilization' discourse (though, surprisingly, the term 'civilised' appears twice in the conclusion in relation to Rome and Persia). Admittedly, this combination of 'change-cum-decline' may cater to the intended audience of the book, some of whom might still operate within the decline paradigm. Moreover, the theme of the series may exert some pressure to adopt some, at least, of the language of 'decline and fall.' But it could also be that the historiography and archaeology of the western empire in particular suffers under the weight of the tripartite chronology of change/fall/continuity. The first applies to the fourth century, when the language of transformation seems to dominate scholarly discourse. 'Fall' characterizes the fifth century, the moment of putative transformation in state structures. The sixth century becomes the moment of continuity par excellence, which does not necessarily denote an absence of changes. Rather, the sixth century, and especially its first half, is viewed as a post-hurricane city from which the observer tries to grasp how much of the pre-catastrophe landscape has survived. Christie does not necessarily break with this chronological division, but he certainly qualifies and moderates it considerably. At various moments, the book focuses on sparse and highly differentiated assemblages of late Roman evidence to complicate any mono-causal explanation. The author's expertise in, and selection of examples from, border regions enriches late antique histories that usually prefer to focus on the Mediterranean core.

In spite of this array of specific and sometimes highly detailed case studies, Christie does favor a few 'big ideas.' The book's thesis posits that change was compelled by the necessity of adapting to third-century conditions and socio- economic transformations. The curiales's loss of economic muscle emerges at several points as a prime mover in the fourth century, as does the reorientation of local elites' riches into the institutionalized church by the fifth century. But the demands and requirements of a renewed state also serve as a causal explanation for changes at the archaeological level. In contrast, Christie tends to attribute decline/fall and fast-moving change to external factors, primarily to military events and their consequences in the late fourth and early fifth centuries.

The impact of the author's archaeological approach is visible not only in the use of archeological evidence but also in the organization of the book's chapters. Those familiar with recent archaeological research will recognize current topics from the specialized literature: the army and barbarians, fortifications, cities, capitals, paganism and Christianity, trade, and villas. Thus, archaeology provides not only much of the data discussed in the book (though texts receive their fair share of attention), but also the axes along which the narrative is organized. The focus of the book is undeniably more urban than rural. This disproportion is a problem in the discipline rather than a flaw of the book: it mirrors the limited number of excavations that have taken place in rural areas (with the exception of villas) and the bias in favor of field surveys. However, since Christie's previous publications demonstrate a perceptive grasp of rural archaeology, readers would have perhaps benefited from a separate chapter on the late antique countryside.

I strongly recommend this book for classroom use, particularly to help students realize the impact of recent archaeology on the study of the late antique past. Moreover, Christie does not shy away from offering alternative interpretations of the same sets of evidence, with very instructive results and insights into the challenges of using archaeological data. The book raises several of the central historiographical questions of the past two decades, though sometimes these are not explicitly mentioned. My only caveat for a classroom adoption of this text relates to its illustrations. Instructors should be aware that they would need to supplement its vivid descriptions of objects with images not provided in the book (I suspect this to be an editorial choice rather than the author's). All in all, the strength of The Fall of the Western Roman Empire is its constant movement between overarching historiographical themes and snapshots of archaeological and literary evidence which leads readers into a strong engagement with central issues of late antique history.

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