Past Perfect: Among Macedonian Kings?

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As a student of classical archaeology at the University of Thessalonike, Manolis Andronicos (1919–1992) helped excavate a third-century B.C. palace in Vergina, just 50 miles away. Archaeologists had long suspected that the ruins of ancient Aigai—the capital of the Macedonian kingdom and likely burial place of King Philip II (359–336 B.C.), father of Alexander the Great—lay beneath modern Vergina. In 1952, after completing post-doctoral studies at Oxford University, Andronicos returned to Vergina, where he sunk a trench into a 40-foot-high mound dubbed the Great Tumulus. Convinced that the man-made mound concealed an important tomb, Andronicos explored the tumulus over the next 25 years, eventually removing 40 tons of soil. After sinking another four trenches and recovering only fragments of marble tombstones, Andronicos’s persistence finally paid off in 1977, when a sixth exploratory trench revealed mid-fourth-century B.C. pottery and an impressive, albeit looted, tomb dating to the same period. The front of the tomb was painted with a vivid frieze depicting Hades’s rape of Persephone—one of only two examples of Greek painting that have survived from ancient times. Andronicos then found a second, unlooted tomb that yielded golden diadems, iron and leather armor, and a splendid gold larnax (casket) embossed with a 16-point star, symbol of the Macedonian dynasty. In the casket were carefully washed bones that had been wrapped in royal purple cloth. Although these bones have been the subject of contentious modern debates, Andronicos (shown in a 1992 Greek postage stamp) went to his grave convinced that he had discovered the final resting place of Philip of Macedonia and his family.

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Despite my slender financial resources my long-term objective was the removal of a large part of the embankment of the Tumulus and the systematic excavation of the ground below so as to uncover the tomb I was sure was there … It was clear that its construction had demanded countless tons of earth which must have been brought there not just from the area close to the Cemetery but also from much further away. This was borne out by the layers which were made up of red soil, sand, pebbles, stones and various other kinds of earth. I had already begun to reflect that construction on such a scale demanded both workmen and means of transport not readily available to an ordinary man. Even for an exceptionally wealthy person it would have been difficult to procure the hundreds of workmen required for the task. Without reaching any definite conclusions, I suspected that only the authority of a ruler could execute such an imposing construction … If the construction of the Great Tumulus was indeed the work of a ruler, then that ruler could be none other than the king of Macedonia …

[During the 1977 excavation season, Andronicos’s team excavated the tumulus to a depth of 40 feet, uncovering a small, but impressive, fourth-century B.C. tomb. Grave robbers had long ago denuded the tomb of its valuables, and Andronicos assumed that an adjacent vaulted tomb had also been pillaged.] A large limestone [block] almost reached the lower surface of the lintel; to be absolutely exact, it was a few centimeters shorter, leaving a tiny gap whereby we could look into the interior of the tomb. When we tried to do this we were completely taken aback; instead of the dark emptiness of the space we had expected, there, about [20 inches] in front of us, was the white marble surface of a door. It was almost unbelievable; the door of the tomb, two intact wide marble leaves, stood in situ. Had they never been forced? Had the tomb robbers left the tomb unplundered? Even though it seemed like a dream, it was nevertheless reality. Now when I reflect on it I think that this is still the most deeply moving moment of the excavation …

The opening of the tomb was arranged for November 8th, the day the Orthodox Church celebrates the feast of the Archangels Michael and Gabriel … The keystone was raised from its bed with only minimal effort, leaving an opening [about a foot] wide; this was enough for us first to see inside the tomb and then to descend into it by means of a wooden ladder. I directed my eyes first to the back of the marble door which divided the main chamber 034from the antechamber and then to the walls. My first, immediate reaction, was one of sharp disappointment. The door presented a thick, coarsely worked surface; the walls were undecorated; they were not even painted in colour and it was obvious that they did not have the final thin, carefully applied surface which we had found in plastered Macedonian buildings. But the shock passed almost instantly as my gaze was fixed on the rear part of the chamber, exactly below the opening. Here all the objects provided for the after-life of the dead man were piled together. To my right, in the southwest corner of the chamber, bronze and iron objects lay one on top of the other; the bronze items had acquired a beautiful dark green patina from oxidization; the iron ones had turned black. To the left, next to the north wall, was the gleam of silver vessels. At the centre of the back wall, directly beneath our opening, was the square covering stone of a marble sarcophagus; next to it, in front of us, the spreading remains of blackened, rotting and disintegrating timber, amongst which twinkled some small fragments; gold leaves glittered over its whole area. Beyond was the black-red of an oxidized cuirass. The rest of the floor was bare.

We had to find an empty space where the wooden ladder which was ready to hand could rest so that we could descend. [Team member] Themis Kardamis tied a rope around his waist and swung into the void; he stepped carefully onto the lid of the sarcophagus and reconnoitred. We were lucky; next to the sarcophagus was the only spot where we could site the bottom of the ladder without danger of destroying anything. When it was in position I descended the almost vertical rungs; I had no leisure for sentiment, however human this would have been. Although it was hard, even for me, to believe it, the minute I found myself inside the chamber I had the cold eye of the anatomist and the rigid logic of the mathematician … First came the photography; this is difficult and delicate work, essential and of great value as a record of research. The condition of the tomb and of the finds had to be recorded as well as could possibly be managed … Work would not begin until our photographer notified us that the films had been developed successfully. Only then could we touch the objects and alter the situation which we had found. This change, in reality signified the destruction of much scientific evidence which could never be recovered; for this reason the archaeologist, who is also a treasure hunter, proceeds gingerly in this ever necessary operation, and never before he has made sure that everything he has been lucky enough to find and to see has been photographed, planned, looked at carefully and described in his notebook.

We had yet to open the marble sarcophagus. Even though the assumption that therein lay the most valuable object awoke an ungovernable curiosity in me—a feeling with 035which an archaeologist is well acquainted though it is dangerous—my sense of academic responsibility imposed patience. When eventually I judged us ready for this final act, I descended into the tomb with two assistants … We managed in a short time to raise the lid. And then we saw a sight which it was not possible for me to have imagined, because until then such an ossuary had never been found; an all-gold larnax with an impressive relief star on its lid. We lifted it from the sarcophagus, placed it on the floor and opened it. Our eyes nearly popped out of their sockets and our breathing stopped; there, unmistakably, were charred bones placed in a carefully formed pile and still retaining the colour of the purple cloth in which they had once been wrapped. In one corner lay a very heavy gold wreath, now folded, which had covered them. We shut the valuable casket, covered it, and placed it in an inner corner of the chamber.

We felt the need to return to the light and to take deep gulps of fresh air. When I was once more outside I moved a little apart from my colleagues on the excavation, the visitors and the police and stood alone to recover from that unbelievable sight. Everything indicated that we had found a royal tomb; and if the dating we had assigned to the objects was correct, as it seemed to be, then … I did not even dare to think about it. For the first time a shiver ran down my spine, something akin to an electric shock passed through me. If the dating … and if these were royal remains … then … had I held the bones of Philip in my hands?

… Sleep that night was impossible. It had been the most fantastic day of my life … until then. For the next few days held other surprises both for me and for my team …

The packing of the finds progressed; the iron objects required special care—the cuirass, the helmet and the sword. We decided not to touch the remains of the organic material and of the ivory, but once the other 036essential work had been completed to temporarily seal the opening of the tomb. We had, nevertheless, observed that among the other pieces of ivory some parts of the human body were to be distinguished—heads, hands, legs. Because I wanted to have a more careful look at some of these I very cautiously lifted a small head; I could not find my voice. The bearded middle-aged man it depicted bore an amazing resemblance to Philip as we know him from the gold medallion from Tarsus. I put it back where I had found it and picked up another, very close to it. By now I thought I was dreaming. Unless it was a hallucination I held in my hand a very lifelike portrait of Alexander the Great. It was incredible—but true. Three other heads lay close by; one was not unlike Alexander, the two others were also obviously portraits but I did not recognize the features. I deemed it essential to pack them as carefully as I could and remove them from the tomb. That night was the second most agitated night of my life as I stared fixedly and speechlessly at the five faces …

It remained only for us to enter the antechamber. The inner marble door could not be opened until the objects in the tomb had been removed. I judged there to be only one way—carefully to remove a stone from the wall right or left of the door … In the afternoon of November 21st we removed it and could see into the antechamber. Exactly in front of us, next to the south wall, was a second marble sarcophagus. None of us had expected that, for none of us knew any Macedonian tomb where signs of burial had been found in the antechamber … Next to the sarcophagus, on the floor, lay a broken gold wreath (we now know that it is a most delicate object, made up of 037myrtle leaves and flowers). Carefully I put my hand into the hole and then head first, I wriggled into the antechamber. I was able to tiptoe into the centre where the floor was clear, on fallen lumps of plaster. I looked towards the outer door; the weight of the lintel had made the upper part slope inwards, at an apparently dangerous angle. I turned back towards the inner door, whose lintel was also cracked. My eyes turned to the floor and I was taken aback by everything I saw. The threshold was packed—a spear, alabastra, a Cypriot amphora and, in the left hand corner, between the jambs and the door, a curious gold object with dainty decoration and relief scenes. Next to it was a pair of gilded greaves. Suddenly an image rose in my mind; the gold artifact was exactly like the Scythian “gorytoi”—a kind of quiver—which had been found in Russia …

The work continued next day. We attempted to guess the content of the sarcophagus, but only by opening it would we have the answer. Although there were more obstacles than in the main chamber, we set about opening it with care and we saw, not without surprise, a second gold larnax, a little smaller than the first and more plainly decorated. We lifted it from the sarcophagus and placed it on the plank on which we stood. Our previous experience blunted the edge of our curiosity about its contents. We knew that we would find the charred bones of a second dead person. Calmly and carefully we opened it—to experience yet another shock, one which overshadowed all the others, as though the tomb was only yielding up its remarkable secrets stage by stage. What we saw in front of us was not the bones of a dead man, but the wonderfully decorated gold and purple cloth which covered them. Next to it, squashed against the side of the larnax, was an elegant woman’s diadem (it was impossible indeed even to imagine, in that first glance, that we had found the most beautiful piece of jewellery in the ancient Greek world). Immediate photography was something more than a necessity, for no one could tell whether that wonderful glimpse of the fabric might not be the only one afforded to the human eye. No one could judge the state of the material.

The transfer of this larnax to the Museum of Thessalonike finally brought the excavation season of 1977 to an end. After twenty-five whole years working at Vergina, I felt I deserved to enjoy what, as an archaeologist, I could never have allowed myself to dream of.

From Manolis Andronicos, Vergina: The Royal Tombs and the Ancient City, Ekdotike Athenon S.A., 1984.

As a student of classical archaeology at the University of Thessalonike, Manolis Andronicos (1919–1992) helped excavate a third-century B.C. palace in Vergina, just 50 miles away. Archaeologists had long suspected that the ruins of ancient Aigai—the capital of the Macedonian kingdom and likely burial place of King Philip II (359–336 B.C.), father of Alexander the Great—lay beneath modern Vergina. In 1952, after completing post-doctoral studies at Oxford University, Andronicos returned to Vergina, where he sunk a trench into a 40-foot-high mound dubbed the Great Tumulus. Convinced that the man-made mound concealed an important tomb, Andronicos explored the tumulus over […]