Renewed display of the Carian Princess’ tomb in Halicarnassus

Bodrum Castle is the Underwater Archaeology Museum that holds the precious collection of the 3,500-years-old Uluburun shipwreck. Much less known are the separate buildings where the numismatic collection and the glasswork are exhibited. The eye-catcher, however, is the hall reserved for the Carian Princess.

Her tomb was found in 1989 with the skeleton still intact. She was lying with her arms crossed, surrounded by her grave goods that included a golden crown. Closer anthropological analysis revealed that she died when she was in her 40s and had at least one child. Based on the excellent condition of her teeth, it could be established that she enjoyed a good quality of life. The remains clearly belonged to a woman of high rank.

It was very tempting to attribute this tomb to Queen Ada, the youngest sister of King Mausolos. We will remember that after his death in 353 BC, it was his wife/sister Artemisia who took over the rule of Caria. When she too died, the throne went to her younger brother, Idreus who had married his sister Ada. Idreus also died, and it was Ada’s turn to become Queen of Caria. But there was still another younger brother Pixodarus who hungered for power. He expelled the widowed Ada from Halicarnassus and she sought and found refuge in her stronghold of Alinda, further inland. Pixodarus aimed to befriend the Persians and ruled unofficially for a short while next to the Persian satrap Orontobates, who took over after Pixodarus’ death. This was the situation in Caria when Alexander the Great arrived at Halicarnassus in 334 BC.

Alexander besieged and eventually conquered Halicarnassus, and he generously handed Caria over to Queen Ada again. She ruled over her country till her death in 323 BC as she died in the same year as Alexander.

Further research about the lady in the sarcophagus has not been conclusive. It has been impossible to attribute the tomb to Queen Ada. That is the reason why it is safely called the Tomb of the Carian Princess.

The hall were these impressive remains are kept has now been refreshed and renewed according to the news published in the Hurriyet Daily News. What exactly has been changed in the setting or the presentation is unclear.

Thanks to facial reconstruction, this princess has been pieced together and until now she was meeting the visitor from the far end of the room. It was a very poignant encounter and I hope that she still gives that impression in the new setting. Said newspaper article does not include a picture of the renovated room but only states that with the modern technology, visitors can download the photograph of the golden necklace and crown projected on the interactive screen via the QR Code.

Why can’t they share this picture on line, I wonder?

The Temple of Bel in Palmyra in full 3-D

Until now, bits and pieces of the famous Temple of Bel in Palmyra have been reconstructed digitally.

A first initiative consisted of recreating two full-size replicas of the arch that at the entrance to the temple. Using the world’s biggest 3D printer, a copy-conform archway was produced and placed at Trafalgar Square in London and at Times Square in New York in April 2016 to celebrate a special world heritage week (see: In honor of Palmyra).

A second effort was made creating a 3-D image of the ceiling from the left-hand niche of the temple’s open Adyton, which found a place of honor at the National Museum of Damascus (see: 3-D imaging to the rescue of Palmyra’s Temple of Bel).

At present, the entire Temple of Bel has been digitally reconstructed by the UC San Diego Library’s Digital Media Lab. It includes more than a dozen sculptures, reliefs and frescoes no longer present in Palmyra. To this purpose, they used an amazing 3,000 digital photographs, among which some 900 pictures taken by tourists between 2006 and 2014 and made publicly available.

It’s a colossal job, the closest to reality under the present circumstances. It is impossible to ever rebuild the magnificent Temple of Bel that survived for nearly two thousand years. The 3-D reconstruction is the best our modern technology can offer.

Greek, or not so Greek

Inscriptions in Greek are just one of many. For the layman, they are nice to see, but they add nothing to the beauty or to the specific style of a monument. The mind casually registers the Greek letters. Deciphering those ancient texts must be an exciting occupation but unfortunately limited to a select group of scholars.

Ereichteion building accounts in Greek

For obvious reasons, Greek is the vehicular language in ancient Greece and also in Ionia, the Greek colonies on the coast of Asia Minor. Once further inland and eastward, Greek becomes the lingua franca with the rise of Hellenism. We have to thank Alexander the Great for spreading the language is his wake. 

In antiquity, temple walls held the latest decrees, the agoras displayed the edict on prices, and the base of statues or tombstones left us the name of the owner. Whenever of particular interest, these Greek slabs have been removed from their location and ended up inside a museum. Often, they reside entirely out of context in a dark storage room. From time to time, a rare example is dusted off to be seen by the museum visitor. If we are lucky, their label provides us with useful information otherwise totally lost.

Those occasional displays remain problematic as I discovered recently at the Louvre in Paris. Here, a particular gallery exhibits about a dozen engraved slabs. However, unless you are a scholar or a historian thoroughly familiar with the history of the finding place, it remains impossible to appreciate their value or significance. 

Lycian inscription from Xanthos

Luckily there are interesting details that even an untrained eye can easily spot. One striking example is the Lycian language. At first sight, the letters are Greek, but on closer look, they are mixed with several un-Greek signs. The profusion of sarcophagi that are strewn all over the Lycian landscape is a valuable source of information that provides many such texts we can readily recognize. 

Pamphylian language from Sillyum

Another oddity is the Pamphylian language that was different from Greek but used the same letters. An example is, for instance, left in situ on the doorjamb of an ancient building in Sillyum. It is not easy to find but makes a fascinating reading experience, especially since it is in its proper place and keeps its full meaning.

Entirely foreign, however, are the letters used in the language of the people in Side. One such a rare transcript is displayed at the Museum of Side and worth to be noticed. I can’t help wondering how it would sound and if a Greek visitor was able to converse with a Sidian.

Sidian text

Of course, each region had (and still has) its own dialect that generally was not too foreign to Greek speakers. Macedonian, as a matter of fact, was considered as “a kind of Greek” but the texts were written in Greek – even if this was not exactly Attic Greek.

I agree that the subject of written language definitely is beyond my comfort zone but lifting a tiny corner of deciphering ancient writing is by itself very worthwhile. Even if it opens only a small window into this vast world.

Booty or souvenir?

Beyond the striking monuments and statues, it is quite rewarding to spend time studying the many smaller artefacts that end up in the showcases of a museum. They are generally mixed with other similar items or just odds and ends.

One such a remarkable piece is this Achaemenid Lion head applique from the 5th-4th century BC exhibited at the Museum for Antiquities in Leiden, The Netherlands. The lion is looking to the left. Another example that could be its twin is found at the Met Museum in New-York. From the description at the Met, it appears that the backside of the applique has five rings meant to attach it to the fabric.

The design is quite fascinating, simple, but very revealing at the same time. What’s more, it is timeless for it could well be a modern slightly abstract rendition of a lion.

Since antiquity, the lion stands for strength and power. As such, this animal is frequently linked to royalty. It was the king's privilege to hunt for lions, for instance. The image of a lion also served to decorate palaces, armory and, like in the present case, clothing.

The intriguing question is how this applique arrived in our museums. The most obvious origin would be local excavations. Persia certainly has still many treasures waiting to be unearthed. But I like to think that this elegant lion may well have been taken by one of Alexander’s men collecting booty all along their long way east. It could readily be included in a letter home, or it would have made a beautiful home-coming gift for the soldier’s wife or sister.

This lion head was made a century before Alexander invaded Persia and its concept was entirely new to the Macedonians or the Greeks. The troops who had seen Susa and Persepolis with their own eyes certainly would have liked to take something home to show the splendor of those faraway places.

Well, the line between booty and souvenir is very narrow, I agree. A souvenir usually is an item that we pay for, but it may as well be a pebble from a beach, or an edelweiss picked high up in the Alps. Booty clearly is spoil taken from the enemy during plunder and pillage, generally precious and expensive objects.

Whatever the origin of this applique, it has a story of its own - a story that does not immediately spring to mind from the mere display on the shelf of a museum.

About Greek/Roman columns and capitals

Well, this is not so much about columns which are the apparent eye-catcher generally drawing our attention toward the remains of a temple, an agora, or a stoa. Capitals are more challenging to pinpoint as they often toppled down after warfare, earthquakes, or other destruction. Although the casual visitor will inevitably notice the columns, he seldom pays attention to the capitals. These, however, tell a story of their own.

We are most familiar with the Doric and Ionic columns and capitals. The Doric order is the oldest one and is found in archaic architecture. It was, in fact, a logical evolution when stone replaced the original wooden beams in the construction of sanctuaries. The stones were cut into drums that could be handled readily and piled one atop the other to the desired height.

We have many temples built in the Doric style, and the highest concentration may be found in places such as Agrigento, Segesta, and Selinunte in Sicily.

Remains of this stone-cutting process are clearly visible at the ancient quarry of Cava di Cusa in Sicily. Since the site was abruptly abandoned, the quarried and half-quarried drums have been left unfinished. Seeing them from so close up and realizing how big such a drum truly was was pretty amazing.

The slim Ionic columns and capitals are generally tied to the Hellenistic period. They are higher and carry their typical elegant curly capital. Once again, it pays off to carefully look at a capital lying on the ground, as is the case in Didyma, Turkey, for instance. Spotting such capital on top of a 20-meter-high column is one thing, but quite another experience to match it to your stature.

Once the drums were stacked, the columns were usually fluted, but not always. In some cases, we find monolithic columns made of more noble materials like marble. They always seem to make a statement.

The Romans favored the Corinthian order, whose capitals were more elaborate. They came in endless variations of acanthus leaves, sometimes mingled with flowers to turn into delicate high-reliefs, almost like lace. It is remarkable to learn that in Gerasa (modern Jerash), Jordan, the Romans removed all the Ionic capitals from the columns on the Cardo and replaced them with Corinthian ones.

By the second century AD, we start seeing the heads of gods and goddesses emerging from among the foliage of the Corinthian acanthus. The first such elaborate examples that struck me were those from the Palazzo delle Colonne in Ptolemais, Libya, with the heads of Jupiter and Mars. There must be many more such examples, of course.

The Greeks and Romans' primary architectural orders are the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian capitals. Other countries and other civilizations had their own versions. The Egyptians loved their papyrus capitals, and the Persians the double bull or lion heads.

Yet, I was very much surprised to see the Pergamene capital as I was strolling through the widespread ruins of Leptis Magna in Libya. Why had I not seen any in Pergamon, Turkey? Did I miss them altogether? I returned to my pictures of Pergamon but found mainly Ionic capitals, besides some Doric and Corinthian. Even the famous Altar of Zeus displayed only Ionic columns. However, the temple of Athena has used Pergamene capitals. 

Otherwise, even after searching the internet, I found only rare examples of this capital inspired by the Egyptian palm columns. Yet, they were all over Leptis Magna, and I feel privileged to have seen them in such large numbers with my own eyes!

In the end, looking at the top of the many columns that still fill our archaeological sites clearly pays off. We may be in for more surprises than expected. 

A plea for satellite archaeology

The revolutionary work done by Sarah Parcak fascinated me right from the beginning. 

Her approach to archaeology is very unique since she uses NASA satellite images to find hitherto hidden cities, harbors, monuments, tombs and other constructions. I first saw her on TV as she disclosed how she was able to locate Portus, the extended port of Rome. It was real detective work as she peeled off of one layer of contrasting image after the other using technologies that accentuated shades and depth otherwise unnoticed. 

She has launched a new era of archaeology, called satellite archaeology. This method is particularly useful in finding ancient sites and buildings before looters do and destroy the precious remains.  

So far, Sarah Parcak has investigated a wide range of places like Machu Picchu in Peru and the Nazca lines. Her search also led her to Newfoundland to investigate the Vikings’ presence, although most of her attention goes to the buried pyramids and tombs in Egypt.

After being awarded the 2016 TEC Prize, she started building an online tool called GlobalXplorer. This is a user-friendly program to which we all can participate to locate our still hidden heritage and eventually protect it. Everybody can contribute to creating a platform for archaeology by analyzing the available satellite imagery. She is making her case in this YouTube presentation.

Exploring our world by satellite is far more efficient and productive than if we have to organize specialized crews to dig in so many remote and unsafe areas.

Just like with the GPR I discussed in my earlier blog From GPS to GPR. A new technology, who knows what surprises are still waiting for us to discover.

The most important temple of Anahita at Istakhr

In an earlier blog (see: The powerful goddess Anahita in Persia), I took a closer look at the goddess Anahita originating in Central Asia and later worshiped throughout Persia to the end of the Sassanid rule. A few centuries later, the Islam annihilated whatever was left of the goddess’ rich legacy. Yet her spirit lived on thanks to the Zoroastrian believers.

The city of Istakhr (also spelled as Estakr) is to be found five kilometers north of Persepolis but is rarely visited. It may well have been a suburb of the Achaemenid royal residences of Persepolis. Not much remains of this settlement and even less of the once so grand temple. As early as the 4^th century BC, Artaxerxes II, erected a statue in honor of Anahita or Anaitis as the Greeks called her, and placed it inside the temple among other goddesses.

Anahita’s best-known temples are those located of Kangavar, near ancient Ecbatana, and at Bishapur. But the most important sanctuary, however, stood here at Istakhr near Persepolis. Sadly, all that remains of this Temple of Anahita in Istakhr is one uninspiring column with part of its double-headed bull capital. Many of the Achaemenid columns were re-used in the construction of an early mosque that probably replaced the Fire Temple. 

[Picture kindly shared with me by Robbert Bosschart]

In its heyday, the Achaemenid city of Istakhr was an important starting point on the ancient caravan route to the Indus Valley, which ran through the Southeastern Provinces of Sistan and Kandahar. According to the Arab sources mentioned hereafter, the temple had been ravaged by the Macedonians. It is possible that this happened when Alexander’s soldiers rampaged through the city of Persepolis (see: Fire over Persepolis), but that still remains unclear.

During the Parthian Empire (247 BC–224 AD), the sacred fire of the temple of Anahita was kept burning.

The Sassanids, who came to power in 224 AD, rebuilt Istakhr, apparently using much of Persepolis’ rubble. King Ardashir (224-242 AD), promoted the city as his first capital till it was replaced by Ctesiphon. The empire’s treasury, however, remained in Istakhr.

The temple survived for centuries as “the house of Anahid’s fire” and it seems that most, if not all the Sassanid kings were crowned at this temple.

In 640 AD, Istakhr was attacked by the Arabs. Shiraz was founded in 684, and eventually replaced Istakhr, whose power was broken. 

The Arab traveler, historian and geographer Al-Mas’udi, also known as the Herodotus of the Arabs, visited the temple of Istakhr in the 10th century AD. He described it with the following words: ”It stood, …, at the foot of a mountain, where the imprisoned wind made a noise like thunder, night and day’” … “ still standing, “pillars, made from blocks of astonishing size, surmounted by curious figures in stone representing horses and other animals, of gigantic shapes and proportions" (text copied from the Encyclopaedia Iranica). 

The city of Istakhr was last documented in numismatics with a dinar issued in 1063 AD. Over the course of time, the temple sank into oblivion.

The art of creating purple dye

Purple dye made from the tiny murex shell pops up on a regular base throughout antiquity. It was an expensive coloring material reserved for royalty and other people of high rank who could afford it. With it, came the symbol of power and prestige which was particularly exploited by the Roman emperors and their ladies parading with their flashy robes.

The fashion seems to have started in ancient Phoenicia, where the shells were widely harvested. As these seafarers settled in new colonies around the Mediterranean, their craft and knowledge soon spread with Carthage at its center. The Romans eyed the wealth and prosperity of Carthage, and that included this much-coveted purple dye. It is not surprising that the emperors took control of this industry since the business was very lucrative. Petra was such a hub where purple cloth and other precious goods transited on their way between Arabia Felix (modern Yemen) and the Mediterranean. The Romans eventually took control of that trade route.

However, purple spread over the ancient world much earlier. The Macedonians, for instance, used purple fabric to wrap the cremated bones of their kings before placing them inside a precious larnax (see: The Tomb of King Philip II of Macedonia). It has been reported that Alexander himself wore purple for everyday use. If we look closely at the mosaic retrieved from the House of the Faun in Pompeii, we recognize the now faded purple-grey of his tunic that originally was deep purple (see: Alexander’s battle outfit).

On several occasions during his campaign in Persia, Alexander’s booty included purple cloth. In Susa alone, he collected more than 100 tons of the precious cloth (see: Alexander’s treasure at Kyinda). This is irrefutable proof that this expensive product was widely available among those who could afford it. In any case, there still was enough material available at the time Alexander organized the Grand Susa Wedding in 324 BC. It has been documented that the floor of his vast ceremonial tent was covered with purple carpets embroidered with gold.

The Persian Empire had amassed an unbelievable amount of wealth since the days of Cyrus the Great. This ruler’s tomb in Pasargadae, for instance, was carpeted with purple rugs. Also the mattress, on which Cyrus’ remains were resting, was colored purple. Median trousers and robes were dyed in a wide range of colors, the most prominent ones being hyacinth and purple.

Persepolis was another place rich with purple draperies and carpets. Diodorus states that the Persian wealth had even rubbed off onto the ordinary people who possessed “garments tainted with sea purple and embroidered with gold.”

The custom of wearing purple was perpetrated down to Seleucos I Nicator as seen on the rare mosaic from Apamea (see: The unique mosaic from Apamea), and to the Indian King Sopeithes, who ruled over a city on the Hydaspes River, tentatively identified as Bhera (see: The realm of King Sopeithes included modern Bhera?)  

This popularity of purple brings me to the next question: How exactly was this Tyrian or Phoenician dye made? The recipe has remained mostly secret until today as only a handful of people around the world knew the techniques involved.

The Archaeology News Network recently published a very revealing article about a man from Tunisia (to which Carthage belonged in antiquity) who started the long quest in search of the tricks of the trade. It is quite amazing to hear that neither archaeologists nor historians or experts in chemistry and dying technique know how to find and recuperate the dye from the murex shell. No historical document apparently provides any detailed information about the production method involved.

[Picture from Archaeology News Network (Credit: Fetih Belaid/AFP)]

Mohamed Ghassen Nouira, who runs a consulting company, had to start his investigation from scratch. Initially, he thought it would be enough to crush the whole shell in the hope to see how the concealed sea snail would release its fascinating color. He spent years on the project, confessing that he had to get used to the foul stench first. Who would have thought of that? In the end, he discovered that the dye is contained in the guts of the sea snail. The exact procedure is now a secret this Tunisian is carefully keeping to himself.

Artists, as well as researchers, are his main customers in the international market. Current prices range from $2,800 to $4,000 per gram, but our Tunisian man claims he sells his pure purple dye for less money. Well, considering that it takes 100 kg of murex shell to obtain one single gram of dye, it is not surprising that prices are sky-high.

As mentioned in the book The Macedonian War Machine by David Karunanithy, the final color could vary from rose-pink through bright red and blue to deep purple, depending on the strength of the dye used and its degree of exposure to sunlight. One seashell fits all, right?

It would be great if the wish of Mohamed Ghassen Nouira to have his work exhibited in the Tunisian museums would materialize. I think many other countries, especially around the Mediterranean Sea, should be interested as well. This ancient tradition truly deserves to be kept alive.