The Forum

008

Beware of Big Brother

The Orwellian tactics of the Archaeological Institute of America (AIA) described by Managing Editor Jack Meinhardt in Editor’s Page: The Two Faces of AIA, AO 04:03, are more evidence of political correctness—the suppression of a perceived truth in favor of a prescribed one. What’s next? Will photos of the Elgin Marbles be taboo because the Greek government wants them back? How long will your publication be allowed to print such exposés of the mean-spirited behavior Meinhardt describes?

Keep Free Speech Free

To deny archaeological evidence from an undocumented source is intellectually dishonest.

Pharaoh’s Son-In-Law

Gernot Wilhelm observes that a biblical passage (1 Kings 9:16) records an exception to the rule that Egyptian pharaohs never wed Egyptian princesses to Asiatic kings (“When a Mittani Princess Joined Pharaoh’s Harem,” AO 04:03). Quite true. Solomon’s marriage to the daughter of the pharaoh (probably Siamun) was so unusual that it is also observed in 1 Kings 3:1, where it is said that “Solomon made an alliance with Pharaoh king of Egypt and married his daughter,” as well as in 1 Kings 7:8, where we are told that Solomon built a palace for the pharaoh’s daughter, “whom he had married.” This triple attestation highlights Egypt’s weakness in the tenth century B.C.—a weakness that would be redressed when Pharaoh Sheshonk (biblical Shishak) invaded Judah and Israel five years after Solomon’s death (1 Kings 14:25–26; 2 Chronicles 12:1–9). Sheshonk’s annals underscore the violence of his attack by listing more than 150 towns he claims to have destroyed.

Amenwhosis?

In his article on the Mittani, Gernot Wilhelm uses the name “Amenophis” to refer to the 18th Dynasty pharaoh whom I believe is actually called “Amenhotep.”

Where did I go wrong?

Gernot Wilhelm replies:

“Amenophis” is the ancient Greek form of the name of several pharaohs, whereas “Amenhotep” is a modern, artificial “Egyptological” form. Egyptian hieroglyphs, like several Semitic scripts, represent consonants only, and so modern Egyptologists invented a system of putting vowels into the consonantal clusters to make them pronounceable. In most European scholarly traditions, the Greek form is in use, whereas in the U.S. this “Egyptological” form is often preferred.

009

Righting a Wrong

The photo of the Tunip-Tesûsûup cuneiform prism in Gernot Wilhelm’s article is printed upside-down.

But that’s a quibble. The intellectual tightrope on which you are endeavoring to walk is very much appreciated by many scholars. Keep up the good work.

We value the careful attention of an informed reader like Professor Beitzel. Of course, he is right. The prism is shown properly rectified above.—Ed.

Waxing Learical

I cannot help but share something with you after reading Miranda Marvin’s comments on Roman sculpture (“Debunking the Copy Myth,” AO 04:03). Hope this tickles your funny bone as it did mine when my mother recited it to me many, many years ago:

There once was a sculptor named Phidias

The sculps that he sculped were most

hideous

He sculped Aphrodite without any nightie

And so shocked the ultra fastidious!

I so enjoy your Archaeology Odyssey!

Reviving the Copy Myth

Miranda Marvin holds that since the Roman world lacked paper and printing, its art patrons had scant chance to gain acquaintance with works of renowned Greek masters. Only travelers to Greek lands, she suggests, could have seen such masterpieces.

But this is to ignore the art that flooded into Rome as a consequence of the wars waged against Greek cities in Sicily and southern Italy. Consider, for example, the vast booty that poured into Rome after the capture of Syracuse in 211 B.C. According to the scholar E.S. Gruen, Claudius Marcellus, the victor at Syracuse, “transferred art … from private dwellings in Syracuse to similar abodes in Rome” in order to stimulate Hellenic tastes in Roman citizens.

Across the Adriatic, Lucius Mummius pillaged Corinth in 146 B.C. He then brought back the greater part of the spoils, mostly paintings and statues, to Rome and the cities of her empire.

Very few names of Roman sculptors have come down to us. Almost all the names we have from the period belong to Greek artists from Greece and the former Hellenistic kingdoms. The vast portion of the art surviving from early centuries of Roman dominance in the Mediterranean is Roman in that it met the practical needs of Rome and its Empire. However, as the classicist Gisela M.A. Richter pointed out, “Technically, artistically, and historically … Roman art can only be understood as the direct continuator of Greek Hellenistic art, initiated and for the most part executed by Greek artists.”

Miranda Marvin replies:

In his thoughtful response to my article, Mr. Cutrules rightly brings up the many Greek 010works of art that were brought to Rome by victorious generals and displayed in their triumphant processions as military booty. Unfortunately, however, to pay the soldiers, most of the treasures were melted down or sold for cash to the highest bidders. Some particularly famous works, and some that were thematically appropriate, ended up on public display, but fewer than appears from the accounts of the great parades.

Mr. Cutrules also raises an issue that has been long debated among scholars of classical art. We have the names of very few artists from the Roman Empire. Of those we know, the overwhelming majority are Greek. Is it appropriate to call them “Roman” artists? I think it is. “Roman” is not an ethnic but a political definition. The subjects of the Roman Empire belonged to many different national and ethnic groups, but they all obeyed Roman law and paid Roman taxes. Yes, they were Greeks, Celts, Teutons or any one of the dozens of nationalities in the empire, but they were also Romans. As Americans, we are proud to be Italian-Americans, Greek-Americans, African-Americans, Polish-Americans and all the rest. Our artists may have names reflecting their families’ roots in “the old country,” but that does not prevent them from being American.

B.C./A.D., B.C.E./C.E.

Why do you eschew the traditional B.C./A.D. notation in favor of the more modern B.C.E./C.E.?

We must answer this question every now and then, as new readers are sometimes confused by these alternative designations. It is confusing, largely because of the similarity of the letters.

The older B.C. (Before Christ) refers to exactly the same period as the newer B.C.E. (Before the Common Era); and the older A.D. (Anno Domini) refers to exactly the same period as the newer C.E. (Common Era). Some scholars prefer the newer designations because they want the terminology to be scientific and secular, stripped of all religious overtones. Archaeology Odyssey’s house style is to use the older B.C./A.D. notation, but we allow outside authors to choose the style they prefer.—Ed.

Spoiling for a Fight

In Martin Henig’s “Civilizing the Frontier: The Romans in Britain,” AO 04:03, your photo caption reads: “Cast in the form of a bust of a late Roman empress, the pepper pot dispensed the expensive spice used to mask the unappetizing flavor of spoiled food.”

Apparently, the British culinary historian Terence Scully was overly optimistic when he wrote that “it is no longer necessary to refute that tired old, utterly groundless statement that spices were used to mask the flavour of spoiled meat.” (Terence Scully, The Art of Cookery in the Middle Ages [The Boydell Press, 1995]).

Scully was talking about the 14th and 15th centuries, not the late Roman Empire, but that makes little difference. People who eat spoiled food get sick. Some die. Why would the ancients import an expensive spice and dispense it from a precious container in order to get a belly ache?

Beware of Big Brother