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This article analyses a passage of Plutarch which relates that Alexander the Great visited Cyprus and appointed the gardener Abdalonymus, descendant of the Cinyrads, as king of Paphos. While historical records attest to a king Abdalonymus in Sidon, Plutarch’s account is clearly ahistorical. Alexander never set foot in Cyprus, and Abdalonymus never ruled over Paphos. The transfer of the story from Sidon to Cyprus was not a simple factual mistake, however, but a deliberate political and propagandistic device, created by an unknown author with strong Ptolemaic interests, most likely in conjunction with the establishment of Ptolemaic dominion over Cyprus by Ptolemy I. Through the long-standing Ancient Near Eastern tradition of royal gardening symbolism, which significantly influenced the island and the Levant, the story aims to legitimize the new Ptolemaic rule in Paphos, the capital of Ptolemaic Cyprus. By lending a venerable air to the new order, the story offers an alternative narrative to the dramatic death of Nicocles, the last king of Paphos and priest of the local great-goddess, who claimed descent from Cinyras and eventually committed suicide under pressure from Ptolemy I.
This Profile looks at two technologies that were developed to make source texts in the original Greek, Latin and, indeed, any language directly accessible to audiences who have not yet studied – and may never study – the language itself: (1) translations aligned at the word and phrase level with the original text and (2) rich linguistic annotations explaining the part of speech, regularised dictionary form and syntactic function of each word in a corpus (typically called treebanks, because the syntactic structure is commonly visualised as an inverted tree).
How do ancient (or contemporary) portraits display power? Why is that man (or less often woman) a ruler, and how can viewers (or readers), alone or in a crowd, tell that he represents something more than himself? He stands for something, literally in the case of ancient bronze or marble portrait statuary, signifier of a powerful office, and its individual holder, a basileus (‘king’) or an emperor. His power over me and mine is expressed in physical or literary form by the creation and circulation of his image(s), by their intrinsic attributes, materials or context. Images become powerful not just by their creation, but through contemporary social and political rules (or norms) of representation and by their reception. Mass media rely on specific associations in my (or our) culture, state and/or religion to convey not only a ruler's individual appearance and character, but also his office and its ideals, symbols and authority over me and us.