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Soon after the death of Ahmose II, the Persian Empire, which had been increasing in size and power for a number of years, invaded Egypt. Ahmose’s son, Psamtek III, the new ruler of Egypt, fought the Persians, under Cambyses II at Pellusium. The Egyptians retreated and following a siege at Memphis were defeated and Psamtek was taken prisoner. Cambyses conquered Egypt, sent expeditions to the oases, campaigned in Nubia and consolidated his control over the whole country. The celebrated statue of Udjahorresnet, an Egyptian naval officer and dignitary, who served under both Ahmose II and Cambyses II, provides information for this period. Psamtek III reputedly committed suicide following a failed attempt to foment a rebellion against the Persian occupiers. In 525 BC Cambyses was declared King of Egypt and incorporated Egypt into the Persian empire. The Saite Period was over and Egypt was an occupied country.
Dodona is among the best-known Greek oracles, with thousands of lead lamellae relating the questions asked to Zeus. But understanding how they were used, relying on epigraphy, with the literary tradition and its usual stereotypes about oracles, proves impossible. Literary sources emphasise the ambiguity of questions and answers, while the engraved questions, ignored by the literary tradition, are obviously formulated to be answered by ‘yes’ or ‘no’. From this basis, this essay explores when these questions (and the answers that we do not possess) were written and used in some ritual way(s). This could have been at the beginning or the end of the consultation, or somewhere in between. We do not know if the texts transpose the question asked orally verbatim, nor if all the consultants were following a strict procedure. Most of the questions are too short to be understood by the officials, and the consultation was partly if not fully oral. Some detours about quasi-identical questions, abecedaries and lot oracles clarify this picture, but this enquiry highlights our ignorance about the procedure and warns against simplistic interpretations drawn from incomplete documentation.
The final chapter considers the significance of the 26th Dynasty in relation to the history of ancient Egypt. The dynamic nature of the period, and the achievements of the Saites in the political, economic, administrative and cultural spheres are highlighted. Far-reaching administrative changes throughout the country, changes in ownership and tenancy of land, temple reform, the introduction of Demotic, religious ideology developments are major factors during this period. On the international front, for a brief period, Egypt occupied territory in Syria–Palestine, although much of the Saite Period was a struggle against her more powerful neighbours to the east. Trade was promoted with the Greeks and Phoenicians and Egypt became part of the wide-range trading networks that linked the Mediterranean cultures. Egypt realigned itself in the Mediterranean world, heralding the Hellenistic age; a time of transformation from the Bronze Age to the Classical era.
This essay draws conclusions from a quantitative analysis of the thousands of lead tablets from Dodona published by Dakaris, Vokotopoulou and Christidis in 2013. It argues that the use of lead tablets in the divination process grew rapidly in the fifth century due to the increased availability of lead in particular from Attika. The tablets would have been left in visible locations after use before being cleared away to be ready for reuse after a period of time. This practice of displaying low-value metal objects is compared to the modern phenomena of coin-trees and love-locks. The use of tablets appears to decline rapidly through the fourth century, with few inscriptions dating to the period after 300 BCE. A number of explanations are offered: the monumentalization of the sanctuary in the third century making the practice of leaving tablets on display less acceptable; the changing role of the sanctuary leading to a change in clientele and consultation practice; and the need for lead for the construction of the large stone buildings resulting in the melting down of lead tablets, with more recent tablets being disproportionately affected.
Through a discussion of spatial practice in Irish verbal and literary culture, the Conclusion paints an encompassing picture of the resilience and ubiquity of circling spatial practice in Irish culture. While this practice, literary and cultural, is rooted in the Middle Ages, it is nonetheless still prevalent and globally influential in contemporary literary culture, as evidenced by Seamus Heaney’s poetry. The conclusion emphasizes the circling poetical device of dúnad, but also considers various visual images of circling spatial schemes, including illuminated insular gospels, mazes or labyrinths, plans of Jerusalem holy structures, maps and depictions of the cosmos, as well as schemes of the ogam alphabet. Spatial practice, and circling movements through material and imaginative landscapes, are a driving force in diverse forms of Irish cultural production.
Kalos-inscriptions identify historical individuals, gods, heroes, even horses, as objects of amorous attention in Athens in the sixth and fifth centuries bce. Missing from catalogues of kalos names is an inscription on a bell-krater attributed to a painter in the Group of Polygnotos and dated to c. 440–430 bce. This vase, now lost to the art market, shows the Return of Hephaistos and includes the misspelled phrase ΚΑΛΟΣ ΗΦΑΡΣΤΟΣ. In this brief article, I re-present this vase and offer possible avenues for its interpretation. I argue that the vase can contribute to discussions of kalos-inscriptions, the characterization of the god Hephaistos, and the relationship between Athens and Hephaistos in the fifth century bce.
In this article, I argue that fictional stories about the Roman emperor are a fruitful avenue for excavating a multifaceted discourse about the sole ruler of the Roman world, who, in this case, is Tiberius. Edward Champlin, who worked on anecdotes about Tiberius in the last decade or so, attributes these negative impressions of the emperors to the pen of a single author (i.e. M. Servilius Nonianus). This argument, I argue, sells the wider meaning of these stories short. The anecdotes themselves are windows into a wider discourse about how the emperor seemed to his subjects. Fictitious or true, such stories inform imaginations about who Tiberius was seen to be, which make these the stories historically relevant. We must both embrace these stories as relevant historical evidence for how Roman emperors were scrutinized and criticized and recognize them as a crucial part of Roman understandings of who the emperor was.
Unusually for a review of classical reception works, we have several commentaries. The first is a collection of Latin poetry by Martin Luther.1 This work is made up of an Introduction, two appendices, and six chapters of verse organized around a theme, each with their own introduction, Latin text with facing translation, and commentary.