This article deals with a rectangular slab of white marble with a simple scene showing three male standing figures carved in very shallow relief against a neutral plain background. It was discovered somewhere within the confines of the ancient city of Melite, probably in the late 19th or early 20th century. The figured scene has always been associated with some Homeric theme or other, but lately a claim has been made that it represents a Mithraic cult scene. The following text intends to discuss this claim and provide a detailed analysis of the scene supported by detailed photographic images.

Keywords: Roman, Malta, sculpture, Iliad, Dolon

Discovery of Greco‐Roman sculptures and their local provenance

The stretch of land that in antiquity was occupied by Melite, the main urban settlement of the island of Malta,(1) has over the last five centuries yielded a substantial number of pieces of ancient sculpture.(2) The earliest of such finds we know of is that of the enigmatic draped statue of a female figure, probably a goddess manifesting multiple syncretic values, described and illustrated by Giovanni Francesco Abela in his monumental description of Malta published in 1647 (Abela 1647, 31-32: text and engraving).(3) Since then, many other finds of ancient sculpture have been made, some of which were illustrated mainly by visiting travellers, foremost among them, the French painter and engraver Jean-Pierre Houël (1787).(4) But the most important discovery of Roman sculpture remains that of 1881, consisting of fragments of at least seven different portrait statues, the main ones representing Emperor Claudius and members of the imperial family. They were discovered within the precincts of a large and stately Roman domus, but the precise find spot for the individual pieces is nowhere reported (Caruana 1881).(5) An additional statue belonging to the same cycle came to light during further excavations conducted by Temi Zammit in 1921-24 in the area immediately to the north of the peristyle of the domus (Zammit 1924, 7). The whole cycle has been published in Bonanno (2018). During the same excavation campaigns Zammit came across a bearded head, broken from a marble statuette, which he identified as Hades (Zammit 1925, 4), and which has more recently been attributed to Herakles (Bonanno 2010-2011).

Although incontestable and specific evidence of provenance of the relief slab is not available, circumstantial evidence suggests that it was found in the Rabat area that formed an integral part of the ancient city of Melite (Fig. 1). The first description of it, duly accompanied by a photograph, was published by Temi Zammit (1934). Zammit referred to its generic discovery ‘in Malta’ and its recent (‘lately’) acquisition by the Valletta Museum. He interpreted the figured scene as ‘the execution of an Asiatic prisoner’.(6) However, we find an earlier and more cryptic mention of ‘a slab representing in high relief some warriors, probably Greek or Roman, found near Saura Hospital, Rabato, Notabile’ among other antiquities in the private collection of a Mr Sant Fournier. The latter must have been the owner of the land on which that hospital was built because in his collection there was also a Roman statera that had been retrieved from ‘under the foundations of Saura Hospital’ in 1855 (Caruana 1882, 116). Although there are no other known sculptured slabs that might fit with Caruana’s description, this scanty mention, particularly its reference to ‘high relief’, does not fit with the slab in question, even less so if we are to take the words ‘lately discovered’ in the title of Zammit’s article at face value. The mention of ‘warriors’ also brings to mind another marble slab that formed part of a private collection housed in Villa Apap in St George’s Bay in the 1930s (Ugolini 1935-1936), but it also does not tally with Caruana’s relief slab because it was, in fact, part of a group of sculptures bought by the owner of the Villa in 1910 from an antiquarian who had imported them to Malta from Tunisia (Ugolini 1935-1936, 463, fig. 1).(7)

After Zammit’s short article, a comprehensive scholarly edition of the relief slab was published by the Italian archaeologist P. C. Sestieri who correctly identified the scene as representing the ambush and execution of Dolon, and dated it to the first century AD (1937). The majority of later writers agreed with Sestieri’s identification and date, including the present writer.(8) Others opted for other Homeric episodes and/or dates.(9) The exception is C. Sagona who sees a ‘Mithraic initiation scene’ (2009, 13-15, fig. 3; 2015, 285-90, fig. 8.5, no. 1).

Description

The art object in question consists of a thin rectangular slab of white marble,(10) with one side carved in very low relief displaying an action scene consisting of three male standing figures (Fig. 1a). The opposite side is left with a rough surface but with a 2 cm-wide lowered margin on the two lateral sides and still carrying faint traces of plaster (Fig. 1c). The slab survives in relatively good condition, but both lower corners are broken. Two small horizontal holes (4 mm in diameter) have been drilled in the thickness of the left vertical side (Fig. 1b); in the one on the opposite side traces of a metallic dowel remain (Fig. 1d). This might indicate that the slab was attached to some architectural feature, for example, to cover a space of the same size in a wall. Alternatively, it might possibly have been attached to other slabs of the same size to form a frieze. Two other round holes perforate the thickness of the slab right through, the larger one between the shins of the central figure, the smaller one below the left knee of the figure on the right. A curved cut is also noted just above the chipped lower right corner.

The Scene

Three figures are carved in very low relief on a plain, neutral background: two armed warriors in heroic nudity flanking a shorter young man in a distinctive oriental costume.

The warrior on the left, the seemingly senior one, is shown in profile to right, with the upper torso and right leg facing the spectator. He is bearded and wears an unusual plumed version of a ‘Corinthian’ helmet without cheek guards (Fig. 2) as well as a very short mantle of apparently animal skin whose ends are joined by a knot on the right shoulder and which covers only half of his chest. In his right hand he brandishes a very short sword and with his left hand grabs one of the hanging flaps of the ‘Phrygian’ cap of the central oriental figure.

The latter is portrayed in movement to the left but turns his face back to the warrior on the right so that it appears distorted in an attempted three-quarter view (Fig. 3). Apart from the ‘Phrygian’ cap, he is wearing a typically ‘Asiatic’ tight fitting costume that covers his whole body, including the arms and legs and, on top of it, a loose-hanging cloak held by clasps on the shoulders. While he stretches his right arm toward the warrior on the left, his left forearm is hidden behind his back.

The younger-looking warrior on the right is clean-shaven and armed with a spear and a small round shield (Fig. 4), held together by his left arm, while with his right fist he grasps what looks like a rope coming out from behind the central figure. He wears a slightly different version of a ‘Corinthian’ helmet and a short chlamys that flutters behind him. He is shown almost completely frontal, with a slight bend of the upper torso to his left, but turns his head in profile towards the prisoner.

The Theme

Soon after it was acquired by the National Museum of Malta in 1934, this relief was interpreted as representing the ceremonial execution of an Asiatic prisoner, such as that of Trojan prisoners sacrificed on the tomb of Patroclos (Zammit 1934, 157). P.C. Sestieri’s interpretation, three years later, brought it, more convincingly, but still within the Homeric saga of the Iliad, to the capture and slaughter of Dolon by Odysseus and Diomedes, as narrated in Book 10 of that epic poem (1937, 28-29).(11) According to the original text Dolon in that episode was supposed to be disguised in a wolf ‘s skin;(12) so his Asiatic garb in this version seems to be intended to emphasise the alien, non-Greek identity in contrast to the Greek heroic nudity of the perpetrators. The scene fits much better with the Dolon ambush episode than with the murders of two other young Trojans, namely, Astyanax and Troilos, on the basis of circumstantial details. Astyanax, the son of Hector and Andromache, was still a child when he was discovered hiding in his father’s tomb and, according to most versions of the legend, thrown down from the fortification walls of Troy. Troilus was also a Trojan prince, one of the sons of Hecuba, queen of Troy, from her husband king Priam (or, according to another version, Apollo). When still a boy, he was ambushed and killed by Achilles while he was fetching water from a fountain.(13)

The story of the ambush and slaughter of Dolon, sometimes referred to as the ‘Doloneia’, is based on a self-contained episode in the tenth book of the Iliad and taken up and incorporated by the Greek tragedian Euripides in the play attributed to him, titled Rhesus. The episode is essentially a spy story. Briefly, Dolon, the son of a rich Trojan herald, offers to spy on the Greek camp wearing a wolf skin and a leather cap. Meanwhile, on the Greek side, Diomedes and the crafty Odysseus volunteer to conduct a spying expedition to the Trojan lines. They set a trap on Dolon who falls an easy prey and soon breaks down and discloses a number of military secrets to the Greek warriors who, in turn, show no hesitation to dispose of him there and then.

Sestieri seems to be also correct on the derivation of the composition from some other figurative work of art rather than directly from the literary tradition from which it differs in a number of details. Even more estranged from the literary tradition is the same scene represented taking place in the presence of goddess Athena on a Campanian bell-shaped krater attributed to the Dirce painter (c. 380-350 BC) from the Necropoli del Fusco in Syracuse (Forti 1970, 12, fig. 11; LIMC III,1: 662; III, 2, 528, no 17). In it Dolon is completely nude, except for his shoes and the characteristic ‘Phrigian’ cap, and is half-kneeling with hands tied behind his back. Of the two Greek heroes, the one on the left holds Dolon by the cap with his left hand and brandishes the sword in his right, very much as in the Malta relief, while the other one attacks the prisoner from behind, even though the two are interchanged. The two Greek warriors are naked except for the chlamys in both scenes. In this respect it is possible that a scene represented on a bronze cist (Br. 638) of the British Museum shows the same theme, but the context of the rest of the illustration suggests the sacrifice of Trojan prisoners on the tomb of Patroclos (Dohrn 1973, 1-34, pls 1-5).

Given all the above iconographic features, especially the nudity of the armed warriors, as well as the cited comparanda, it is difficult to conceive how the scene could in any way be connected with Mithras, as posited by C. Sagona in two of her works, including a short monograph on the presumed cult of Mithras in Malta (2009, 13-15, fig. 3; 2015, 287, 289, fig. 8.5, no 1).(14) Apart from the architectural layout of the rock-cut sanctuary at Wardija ta’ San Ġorġ in Gozo,(15) which manifests some vague similarities with that of most Mithraea, many of Sagona’s iconographic and archaeological associations with Mithras fit equally well, if not better, with Punic religious and funerary paraphernalia, as well as those of other Roman cults of oriental origin, like that of Attis. Limiting oneself to the item under examination in this article, there is absolutely no possibility of seeing any connection with a Mithraic initiation rite, as suggested by Sagona. In most surviving representations of the god Mithras, he is admittedly shown wearing the typical oriental garb and hat, but in the act of slaughtering a bull, often flanked by similarly clothed assistants (named Cautes and Cautopates) holding long lit torches (Fig. 7), but certainly not naked male warriors holding weapons.

Artistic Merits

The shape and size of the slab, the roughly chiselled surface of its back which preserves some traces of plaster, as well as its style, suggest that it was used as a household piece of decoration, inserted in a wall, like several similar slabs, admittedly showing different subjects, discovered in Pompeii.(16) Some slabs preserved in the Magazzino of the Vatican Museum, again displaying different scenes, seem to have had a similar function (Kaschnitz -Weinberg 1936-37: 189-92, 195, nos. 417-18, 424, 426, 434, pls. 77-79.(17)

The faces of the sculpted figures seem to be intended to emanate diverse expressions: of irony and even cool disdain in the warrior of the right, of surprise and anxiety in the prisoner at the centre and one of determination in the warrior on the left. The end result, however, is that this attempt appears forced and not quite successful. The treatment of the faces and bare body parts is somewhat sketchy and dry with some details, such as the eyes and hands, suggesting an unfinished, or unpolished, work rather than resulting from wear or mechanical erosion. The drapery shows greater sensitivity and ability of execution even if subjected to a degree of convention and schematism.

The flat, often summary treatment of the figures and the lack of fresh inspiration that is so evident in this marble betray a product of a mediocre, provincial or second-rate Roman marble carving workshop. Indeed, Sestieri assigns it to Greek art (based on the origin of the marble), but from the Roman period, more precisely to the second half of the first century AD, based on the style of the figures (1937, 43). A relief in the same, but not so summary, style appears on the left short side of an Amazon sarcophagus in the Liebieghaus Museum in Frankfurt, dated to the first half of the 3rd c. AD (Eckstein & Beck 1973, no 69).

Although it can be argued that the shallowness of relief on its own does not warrant a 1st c. AD date, the total absence of the use of the running drill suggests it, even though a 4th c. AD date has also been posited (Rumpf 1937).

Significance for Malta’s cultural history

The presence of this piece of figurative art in ancient Melite contributes significantly to the overall impression that this urban centre, like its counterpart for Gaulos, did not miss out on a certain degree of cultural attainment, on a par with certain provincial urban communities overseas. Witness the very high quality of the imperial sculpture retrieved from them, as well as a small number of isolated finds relating to the current religious iconography of a domestic nature, like the head of a veiled statuette of Hercules from the grounds just outside the Roman domus.

Outside the urban contexts of Melite and Gaulos the Maltese countryside has rarely produced any art products, except for a few marble pieces from the sanctuary of Juno at Tas-Silġ in Malta, two female marble statuettes from the Żejtun area (close to Tas-Silġ) that await a proper study and publication, and the missing sculptures from the Roman villa of Ramla Bay, Gozo. One still hopes that, with the increasingly greater awareness of the potential artistic treasures still hidden under Maltese soil and the increasing meticulous and exhaustive monitoring activity of excavation involved in construction works, this unsatisfactory picture will progressively improve.

Acknowledgements

The work on this article was conducted with the assistance of several libraries and institutions. I am grateful to the University of Malta and its academic and administrative staff for providing conducive environments for study and research, as well as financial resources. I am indebted to the staff of the University of Malta Library and to the Bodleian Art, Archaeology and Ancient World Library for their help whenever it was needed, as well as to the reviewers of this article for their comments. Special thanks are due to Heritage Malta, in particular Sharon Sultana and Franceen Galea, for facilitating autoptic access to, and photography of, the Roman sculpture in its reserve collections.

Anthony Bonanno
Department of Classics and Archaeology
University of Malta
MSIDA MSD 2080
Malta
anthony.bonanno@um.edu.mt

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Anthony BONANNO is Professor Emeritus of Archaeology and a Senior Fellow at the University of Malta. Having previously headed the Department of Classics and Archaeology, he has lectured and published extensively on Maltese prehistory and Mediterranean archaeology. His primary research interests include prehistoric Malta, Mediterranean island cultures and Roman art and archaeology, with a particular focus on Roman sculpture within the Maltese Islands and the broader Roman Empire.

Notes

1. For the general layout and topography of ancient Melite, see Bonanno (1998; 2005, 245-4).
2. A catalogue raisonné of the Greco-Roman sculpture in the national collections of antiquities of the Maltese islands, including the ones of documented local provenance, is currently in the process of being compiled online by the present writer for easier and wider access (https://classicalsculpture/heritagemalta.org/five- columns-grid-2/).
3. Illustrated and discussed in Bonanno (2020). The only earlier writer to focus attention on Maltese antiquities before Abela, the French cleric Jean Quintin (1536), did not mention any statuary or other sculpture.
4. Most of his illustrations of Maltese antiquities, including sculpture, were published in monochrome lithographs in volume 4 of his Voyage Pittoresque, but many of the original drawings and coloured gouaches are preserved in the Hermitage Museum of St Petersburg. (https://picryl.com/topics/ paintings+by+jean+houel+in+the+hermitage/ drawings+of+malta).
5. It has been mooted that the fragments were brought there from elsewhere, destined for the lime kiln for the production of lime (Wilson 2023, 216-17). This remains a possibility, but no corroborating proof has been brought forward.
6. The ‘One marble bas-relief (Roman Period)’ in the list of accessions made by the Museum Department for the year 1933-1934 (Zammit 1934a, M5) quite certainly refers to the same slab.
7. Apart from one of the illustrated items in this article, the inscribed stele, which was seen by the present writer in a private collection in Gozo in the 1970s, the whereabouts of the rest of the Apap collection are unknown.
8. Such as: Pietrangeli (1942, 7): ‘uccisione di Dolone’; Gallet de Santerre (1956, 229-34, pl. 1); Meschini (1960, 163): ‘Doloneia. La stessa scena su un sarcofago clazomenico di Berlino’; Bonanno (1971, 213-18); Bonanno (2005, 6); Bonanno (n.d).
9. Including (Rumpf 1937, 406, pl. 58, 2): 4th c. AD; Bulas (1950, 115): death of Astyanax, 1st c. AD; Brommer (1983, pl. 3a): 3rd-4th c. AD; Touchefeu (1984, 935): ‘death of Dolon unacceptable, death of Astyanax unlikely, death of Troilos a possibility’; Williams (1986, 662): supports Touchefeu’s Astyanax.
10. National Museum of Archaeology, Valletta. Inv. no. 102012. The marble is fine-grain, identified as ‘Pentelic’ by Sestieri (1937, 21); followed by Touchefeu (1984, 935) who might not have seen the slab itself. Dimensions: H. 43 cm; L. 49 cm; Th. (slab) 3.2 cm; Max. Th. (including relief) 0.7 cm.
11. On Dolon and the respective Homeric episode see Wagner (1903, cols 1287-88); Meschini (1960, 163-64); Williams (1986: 660-64). The ‘Doloneia’ has been the object of a long and intricate philological discussion among scholars as to its relation to the whole Homeric epic (Tsagalis 2024) and as to who of the two heroes actually dispatched Dolon (see, for example, Stagakis 1987). However, as the subject illustrated by our relief slab is limited to the instance of the capture of the Trojan victim, the reader may well be spared the intricacies of that controversy.
12. As in the Ilias Ambrosiana (Bianchi Bandinelli 1955, pl. 1, figs 35, 36, 70); (Fig. 5) (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Ambrosian_Iliad#/media/ File:AmbrosianIliadPicXXXIVCaptureDolon.jpg), and on the red-figure krater by the Dolon Painter in the British Museum illustrated by Stenico (1960, 163-64), and in Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classicae (henceforth LIMC) 3,2: 527 (Fig. 6).
13. See LIMC under the respective lemmata.
14. Reviewed by A. Klingenberg (http://hsozkult.geschichte.huberlin.de/rezensionen/2011-2-149.pdf), and A. Bonanno (2021) respectively. For the oriental (Iranian) origins and diffusion of the cult of Mithras, as well as his iconography see Vermaseren (1963).
15. A different part of this sanctuary (the ‘temple’ structure at the bottom end of the terraced rock-cut complex) has recently been identified with a temple of the Punic goddess Ashtart, on mainly epigraphic grounds (Spagnoli 2022; 2023).
16. See, for example, Spinazzola (1928, pls. 70-75); Sogliano (1907, 558-61, figs. 8-11); and Pailler (1971). Some of these rectangular marble slabs, precisely the ones with relief decoration on both sides, were intended as oscilla, like the Gozo oscillum (Bonanno n.d.). The ones carved only on one side were obviously not. Spinazzola (1928, xxv, no 54) thought that some of these reliefs blocked ventilation apertures or small niches in the walls, such as the one found in situ in the House of the Golden Cupids, also illustrated in Pailler (1971, fig. 2); but the general view is that these ‘plaques’ or ‘pinakes’ were intended to be placed on top of small, low columns in the gardens of houses (Pailler 1971, 129, 134).
17. No. 484 displays the same treatment of both the drapery and the naked body parts as in the Malta slab.

Malta Archaeological Review 2026, issue 14, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2026.1
Received: 14 April 2025 | Accepted: 22 May 2025 | Published online: 20 May 2026

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In many ways, the impact aviation has had upon Malta is obvious; one only has to see how its airport dominates Malta’s landscape, the importance of tourism to its economy (an industry almost wholly reliant upon civil aviation) or even walk into its capital to be confronted by the bombed remains of the Royal Opera House to evidence this. In this paper, in addition to briefly outlining some of the ways aviation has directly impacted upon the archaeology of Malta, its other more subtle, hidden and unacknowledged impacts will also be examined. In doing so, new information and insights are revealed to uncover the true depth of Malta’s aviation archaeological heritage, and how it continues to influence and shape Malta to this day.

Keywords: Aviation; Malta; Gozo; heritage; World War II; landscape

Introduction

Whilst there are few countries (if any) that remain untouched in some manner by aviation, the impact of it upon Malta, both benign and otherwise, has been especially profound. However, not all traces of aviation, in Malta or elsewhere, are so visible. For example, it can be found underground in the form of air raid shelters, or underwater as aircraft wrecks. These are all direct manifestations of aviation, physical evidence that can trace its existence immediately to aviation. Other examples include airfields, aircraft and lighter-than-air vehicles of all descriptions (such as helicopters, hot air balloons and airships), radar and acoustic listening stations, aircraft observation posts, and antiaircraft sites.

Aviation also has significant indirect influences upon the physical landscape. Like all structures, aviation-related ones need supporting infrastructure, such as links to transport, power and utilities. They also need people to construct and operate them, who in turn need housing and access to national programmes such as health and education, which need to expand to absorb the extra strain on their services. The construction this entails does not always betray its origin to aviation, being simply an expansion of what already exists, but its impact is there nevertheless. Aviation also acts as an enabler, facilitating the spread of people, ideas and cargo.

Aviation also influenced form, and led to the alteration and displacement of buildings and landscape features that had little, if anything, to do with aviation per se. Fortifications, with their efficacy so closely entwined with changes in technology, provide excellent examples of this, as existing military structures must constantly adapt if they are to still be of relevance, whilst new structures need to reflect the latest technological developments. Aviation represented perhaps the greatest change to warfare since the adoption of gunpowder, and its influence on both terrestrial and maritime warfare was (and is) profound.

Finally, the expansion of aviation has entailed the loss of physical features and landscape. This can be as a direct result of construction, for example the rich agricultural land and archaeological remnants found west of London consumed by London Heathrow Airport (Pascoe 2001, 82-86). It can be for other consequences of aviation, such as the demolition of landmarks that either impeded aircraft by existing along flight paths or conversely aided the navigation of enemy aircraft. Most tantalising of all, it can be what would be there if aviation did not exist.

All of these four manifestations (direct, indirect, influenced and absent) can be found in abundance in Malta, both visible and hidden. This short paper cannot of course hope to cover all instances, but by highlighting some examples, it is hoped that a flavour of Malta’s rich and under-appreciated aviation heritage can be imparted.

Airfields and Flightpaths

Perhaps the most obvious manner in which aviation can impact a landscape is through its airfields. One has only to look at a satellite image of Malta (Fig. 1) to see how the airport at Luqa dominates the physical landscape, acting almost as a scale bar for the archipelago. What is now Malta International Airport (MIA) does in fact contain the footprint of two previous airfields; Luqa and Safi, and relics of both these airfields can still be seen at MIA. Luqa and Safi were just two of six airfields that were operational (over varying periods) during the Second World War, this peak being reached in the lead up to the invasion of Sicily in July 1943 (Hamlin 1994).

The impact of these airfields on Malta was immediate and dramatic. The first airfield built was in the south of Malta at Ħal Far in 1923 (Hamlin 1994, 113), a process that involved the removal of at least 42 miles (68 km) of rubble farm walls (Coldman 2001, 44). Further airfields were then built in the lead up to the Second World War at Ta’Qali and Luqa. Two of the ideal topographical and geologic requirements for an airfield (flat, well-drained) are similar to that of ideal arable land, and its large-scale acquisition was especially impactful in Malta, which throughout its modern history has combined a relatively small land mass with a high population density.

The topography of the landscape was also instrumental in deciding the locations of airfields. As can be seen in Figure 2, land in the west and north of Malta, and most of Gozo, is riven with valleys and rocky outcrops. The only reasonably level land is to the west and south of the Grand Harbour area, and a small area of southern Gozo. Combined with existing settlements in these areas, the actual land available for an installation that requires such a relatively large amount of land becomes very limited indeed. Between 1928 and 1938, 2% of all land (not just available land) on the island of Malta was acquired for defence purposes (NAM 1940, 30). Whilst this figure would also have included land acquired for non-aviation purposes, it must also be borne in mind that this figure does not include the land acquired for the airfield at Ħal Far, as it had already been built by 1928, or indeed the seaplane base at Kalafrana, built in 1916 (Hamlin 1994, 229). The inevitable consequence (one compounded by a growing population) was a spike in land prices and an increased reluctance amongst landowners to sell agricultural land (NAM 1940, 30). Other consequences, such as the end-use for the increased wealth acquired by landowners for the land and properties they sold, or the social impact the loss of such land had on communities and families that had tilled the land for countless generations, are much harder to quantify, but must have been extensive. These all reflect indirect – but deep – consequences of the impact of airfield construction upon Malta.

Furthermore, the direct impact airfields had upon the physical landscape did not end at the boundary fence. In order to mitigate the effects of German and Italian bombing during the Second World War, a policy of dispersing aircraft into protected pens, both at the airfields and the surrounding countryside was adopted (TNA 1941). The close proximity of the airfields at Luqa, Safi and Ħal Far to each other meant that these dispersal areas in effect constituted a connected series of taxiways and pens (Fig. 3). Some remnants of this network (including around the airfields constructed at Ta’ Qali and Qrendi) remain in use today as roads, including the main runway at RAF Krendi (Fig. 4).

This extra-mural influence also extended to demolition. When the SW-NE runway at Luqa was expanded in 1942-43, this necessitated the removal of structures beyond the airfield perimeter so as to provide a clear flightpath for the bombers that used Luqa as their base (Fig. 5). This influence still extends to the present day, with height restrictions in place in line with the runways at Malta International Airport (MEPA 2014, 38). The influence of flightpaths on structures in Malta was not restricted to Allied aviation, with their perception of what could be useful to hostile aircraft influencing Malta’s landscape. A prime example of this can be found in the capital, on the cavalier of Fort St Elmo. Situated at the tip of the Sciberras Peninsula on which Valletta now stands, it commands the entrance to both the Grand Harbour and Marsamxett. These same considerations made the cavalier (the highest point in Valletta) a natural choice to locate a lighthouse, and so it is little surprise that one was present here from the Knights of St John (KOSJ) period and was for centuries a prominent feature of the Valletta skyline (Fig. 6). After the outbreak of hostilities in June 1940, the lighthouse came to be regarded as an aiming mark for attacks on the defences in and around Valletta, and the order to demolish it was given shortly after (TNA 1940).

Air Raid Shelters

The mass construction of public rock-cut shelters in besieged Malta, almost entirely by hand, must rank as one of the most impressive civil engineering projects of the entire war. By June 1942, enough rock-cut shelter spaces existed to provide virtually all civilian areas in Malta and Gozo with cover during air raids, the vast majority of which were created in the preceding 18 months (NAM ARP). These (by necessity) hidden spaces, which number over 1,000 in Malta alone (NAM 1953), stand today as mute testament to this remarkable achievement, with only a handful of them now open to the public.(1) In this regard alone, symbolising as they do ‘local endurance at a time of adversity’ (Magro Conti 2009, 126), and the fora for a universal and traumatic experience from farmer to governor alike, they are a core part of the archaeology and communal memory of wartime Malta.

The large amounts of excavation waste created by the rock-cut shelter programme also needed to be disposed of, and in doing so provided another example of how aviation affected the physical landscape, in effect, modifying the landscape both above and below the ground, visibly and invisibly. The populated areas west of Valletta, such as Pietà, Msida and Ħamrun, saw large amounts of shelter construction (NAM ARP), and generated a consequently large amount of excavation spoil, spoil which was then used for the landfill at Msida Creek (Alonsio 2005, 28). Examination of German reconnaissance photos for January 1941 shows the original condition of both Msida Creek and nearby Pietà Creek, while the image of May 1941 shows the beginnings of the infill at Pietà (Fig. 7). Eyewitness testimony states that debris had already began to be placed in Msida Creek by the end of March 1941, with significant progress made by the end of July (Mifsud Bonnici 2017, 382, 530); this was likely still below the waterline and thus not visible to aerial reconnaissance. By January 1942, both creeks show clear evidence of land reclamation.

The images by themselves do not of course prove that air raid spoil alone was used to facilitate this land reclamation, and indeed other sources indicate that the wreckage of bombdamaged buildings and just general debris was also used in this endeavour (NAM 1942; Turner 2004; Mifsud-Bonnici 2017, 530). No one walking on this reclaimed land today would associate this area with aviation, yet this is a clear example of how the consequences of aviation as they manifested in Malta (air raids and thus the need to construct rock-cut shelters and dispose of bomb-damaged material and excavation spoil) had a very tangible effect on Malta’s physical landscape, one that persists to this day.

Fort Campbell

Fort Campbell,(2) completed in 1937-38 on the Selmun Peninsula in north-east Malta (Spiteri 2017, 178), holds a similar place in British military architecture in Malta as Fort Tigne does within the military architecture of the KOSJ era, namely the last examples of their kind, and thus evidence of the latest in military architectural design for those eras. In common with many fortifications in Malta, Fort Campbell’s focus was not landward, but seaward, to defend the Selmun Peninsula and environs from seaborne attack, as an examination battery for vessels approaching the Grand Harbour from the north, and to fulfil a need for a counter-bombardment role in that part of the island (Rollo 1999, 281, 439; Spiteri 2017, 178). It is in the novel design of the fort, however, one that represented ‘a complete break from the previous manner of construction of coastal defences’ (Cachia Zammit 2015, 137), that the influence of aviation can most clearly be seen (Fig. 8). Nothing about Fort Campbell’s shape suggests that it is a military structure. The bulk of the barracks for example were built lining the side of a road, in a similar manner to how they would appear in a village (Cachia Zammit 2015, 144). Regarding the built features themselves, the perimeter wall was much thinner when compared to previous fortifications and lacked a ditch (Cachia Zammit 2015, 138), and was irregularly patterned to mimic the surrounding countryside (Spiteri 2017, 178), thick ramparts and a ditch being eschewed as being too diagnostic of a military installation. The barracks and Officers Mess were designed to mimic the profile of traditional farm buildings (Cachia Zammit 2015, 144-45). Removable measures included the spreading of rubble on and around gun emplacements (Cachia Zammit 2015, 141). Fort Campbell’s design and purpose were completely focused on non-aviation matters, yet its entire design was warped by the above measures, which were taken to avoid detection from the air (Spiteri 2017, 180). These measures proved to be extremely effective. Even when the fort saw action in the Second World War (Rollo 1999, 255), its absence from any of the intelligence reports or annotated reconnaissance photos of that period, and the almost entire lack of bombardment it received, would suggest that its existence continued to be hidden from the Axis powers for the duration of the war.

Conclusion

The great impact aviation has had and continues to have upon the physical landscape of Malta – both above and below the waterline – in the century or so since the construction of the seaplane base at Kalafrana in 1916 is undisputed. The numerous aircraft wrecks left behind from the Second World War’s longest siege, and its postwar period, are still being discovered, both on land (Tihn 2023) and underwater (see for example underwatermalta.org). Malta International Airport continues to expand and modernise (MIA 2023), whilst the neighbouring island of Gozo is set to have its own (much smaller) airfield in the near future (Times of Malta 2022), a distant echo of the short-lived, though larger airfield that existed on the outskirts of Xewkija in mid-1943 (Hamlin 1994, 225-28). However, despite the innumerable books, articles and television shows dedicated to certain aspects of this, in particular its role in the Second World War, the far-reaching consequences of aviation upon Malta’s landscape continue to be little known, let alone studied. The above details only a fraction of the impact airfields and air raid shelters have had, and has further restricted itself to the purely physical impacts on the landscape, whilst the effects of other installations such as anti-aircraft sites and long-range detection facilities have, for reasons of space, been omitted entirely.(3) Further study would enrich our understanding of how one of the most significant developments in human history altered the physical and cognitive landscape of Malta, in all its forms.

Anthony Burgess
201, Triq San Mikiel
COSPICUA BML2113
Malta
anthonyburgess@gmx.co.uk

References

ALONSIO, F. 2005. Msida. In Programm tal-festa San Ġużepp, 28-29. Msida: St Joseph’s Church Parish Office.

BALLOU, M.M. 2020. The Story of Malta. 1893 Travel Guide for a Mythical Island – Volume 1. Rabat: Wise Owl Publications.

CACHIA ZAMMIT, B. 2015. Conflict Archaeology in the Landscape: A Survey of World War II Defences at Selmun, Malta. MA dissertation, University of Malta.

COLDMAN, A. 2001. Malta – An Aviation History. San Gwann: PEG.

HAMLIN, J.F. 1994. Military Aviation in Malta G.C. 1915-1993. Peterborough: GMS Enterprises.

MAGRO CONTI, J. 2009. Public access to Second World War British heritage in Malta, in N. FORBES, R. PAGE and G. PÉREZ (eds) Europe’s Deadly Century. Perspectives on 20th Century Conflict Heritage: 123-33. Swindon: English Heritage.

MALTA ENVIRONMENT AND PLANNING AUTHORITY (MEPA) 2014. A Planning Policy Guide on the Use and Applicability of the Floor Area Ratio (FAR). Available at: cdnothers.timesofmalta.com/4457a3b2c93bd7e772245 d04f59394331906785103.pdf (accessed on 5 December 2023).

MALTA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT (MIA) 2023. The Terminal Expansion Project. Available at: maltairport.com/media-kit/terminal-expansionproject/ (accessed on 18 December 2023).

MIFSUD BONNICI, M. 2017. A Malta Teenager at War. Vol 1 June 11 1940 to December 31 1941. Marsa: Union.

MUŻEW NAZZJONALI TAL-ARTI (MUŻA). Malte. Vue de L’Entrée du Port by P.M. Milcent. Available at: w3id.org/vhmml/museum/view/2140 (accessed on 5 December 2023).

NATIONAL ARCHIVES MALTA (NAM). ARP Bundle 30 1/2/3.

NATIONAL ARCHIVES MALTA (NAM) 1940. CSG 01 1342/1940 RAF Seaplane station at Marsaxlokk; Acquisition of land for RAF purposes in Malta.

NATIONAL ARCHIVES MALTA (NAM) 1942. CSG 01 5673/1942 Dumping of rubble and spoil at Pietà Creek.

NATIONAL ARCHIVES MALTA (NAM) 1953. CDE CD/4052/10 1953 Tabulated List of Air Raid Shelters.

NATIONAL ARCHIVES AND RECORDS ADMINISTRATION (NARAa). RG 242.51 War Diary of X Fliegerkorps.

NATIONAL ARCHIVES AND RECORDS ADMINISTRATION (NARAb). RG 373 GX Dick Tracy Misc 5 German Aerial Photography.

NATIONAL ARCHIVES AND RECORDS ADMINISTRATION (NARAc). RG 373 GX 11130 German Aerial Photography.

PASCOE, D. 2001. Airspaces. London: Reaktion Books.

ROLLO, D. 1999. The Guns and Gunners of Malta. Valletta: Mondial Publishers.

SPITERI, S.C. 2017. A Visual Guide to the Fortifications of Malta. Malta: BDL.

THE NATIONAL ARCHIVES, UK (TNA) 1940. FCO 141/9522 Demolition of St Elmo Lighthouse.

THE NATIONAL ARCHIVES, UK (TNA) 1941. CAB 79/12/3 Chiefs of Staff Committee: Minutes – 7. Underground Hangars in Malta.

TIHN, D. 2023. World War II plane parts discovered during St Vincent de Paul garden works, The Times of Malta, 8 March 2023. Available at: timesofmalta.com/articles/view/world-war-twoplane-parts-discovered-st-vincent-de-paul-gardenworks. 1018005 (accessed on 18 December 2023).

The Times of Malta. Gozo rural airfield plans submitted to the planning authority, 30 September 2022. Available at:
timesofmalta.com/articles/view/gozo-ruralairfield-plans-submitted-planning-authority.984293 (accessed on 18 December 2023).

TURNER, C.F. 2004. Interview with the Imperial War Museum Catalogue #27092. Available at: iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/80024623 (accessed on 6 December 2023).

Anthony BURGESS was awarded a PhD in 2022 from the University of Malta, having previously graduated with an MA in Maritime Archaeology from the University of Southampton in 2013, and a BSc (Econ) (Joint Hons) from the University of Wales in 1996. He is currently a guest lecturer at the University of Malta, and is actively involved in Malta and abroad in the recovery of missing United States service personnel.

Notes

1. At the time of writing, the Superintendence of Cultural Heritage (SCH) has nine shelters listed in the National Inventory, with a further 69 listed under Cultural Heritage Discoveries. Details on the SCH, its work, publications and a GIS Interface to see these and other listed heritage can be found at https://schmalta.mt.
2. Fort Campbell was originally Campbell Battery, not being referred to as a fort until 1945. For ease of reference, Fort Campbell will be used to denote this fortification regardless of time period.
3. The interested reader can find details on these in the PhD. thesis upon which this article was based, available for download at https://www.um.edu.mt/library/oar/handle/123456789/95299.

Malta Archaeological Review 2024, issue 13, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2024.3
Received: 28 December 2023 | Accepted: 25 March 2024 | Published online: 12 April 2024

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The post Hiding in plane sight: the unrecognised impact of aviation on the Maltese landscape appeared first on The Archaeological Society Malta.

As ancient burials constitute the bulk of archaeological evidence in the Maltese islands due to their degree of preservation and survival, the general typology of ancient tombs in these islands is quite well known. However, one type of ancient burial seems to stand out for its uniqueness in the Maltese islands, even though it seems to have been widespread in the Roman world. This is the burial known as ‘alla cappuccina’: a very simple burial that employs slabs or tiles set gablewise to cover the corpse beneath. Surviving documentation provides meagre representation of this burial type in the Maltese islands. So far, it had only been documented once in Gozo with another possible instance from Malta. Another burial of the same kind was discovered in Gozo in 1933. Yet, for some reason, it failed to attract any attention to the effect that it was only unofficially documented by means of a contemporary newspaper article. It is thanks to the latter, however, that the poor corpus of this type of burial in the Maltese islands is being enriched with another, better documented example. The current contribution also seeks to move a step further by putting this burial not only in its regional context, but also within the wider context of the contemporary Mediterranean and Roman world.

Keywords: Burial; Gozo; alla cappuccina; Roman Mediterranean

The majority of ancient tombs found in Malta and Gozo are of the type usually consisting of a rock-cut shaft and chamber, sometimes, including more than one chamber. Then, there are the more elaborate hypogea and catacombs with their corridors and different types of graves inside. These are also rock-cut and some of them might have originally been accessed through a rock-face. They also vary in their sizes and extents.

Much has been published about these types of burials and, therefore, there is no intention to go into these in this contribution. Instead, the subject dealt with here is a particular burial discovered on the north-western outskirts of Victoria, the main town of Gozo, in February 1933 (IL BERKA, Saturday, 11th February 1933, 3). As we shall see below, this burial appears to have belonged to a type different from the ones described above.

The discovered burial

A letter addressed to the editor of the now defunct Maltese newspaper Il-Berka reports the fresh discovery of what was then described as an old terracotta coffin on the north-western outskirts of Victoria, in Gozo. The letter appeared on the issue (of IL BERKA) of Saturday, 11th February 1933, on page 3, but the letter itself was dated to the previous Saturday, 4th February 1933 – apparently, the day of the burial’s discovery (as deduced from the internal contents of the same letter) – under the nom-deplume ‘SURMAST’ / ‘HEADMASTER’. For the readers’ benefit, the entire letter in old-fashioned Maltese (then in vogue) is reproduced hereunder as it appeared in the section (of the said newspaper) entitled ‘Minn li bliet u minn li rhula’ / ‘From the towns and from the villages’, followed by a translation in English.

Mir-Rabat, Ghawdex.
____________

CHIXFA TA TEBUT KADIM
tal fuhhar gewwa Ghawdex.
____________
Ir-Rabat, (Ghawdex) 4/2/33.
Sur Editur,

Nitolboc taghmilli ftit tal wisgha bjex inhabbar dawn l’erbgha chelmiet li imissu lill cullhatt.

Nhar is-Sibt ghal habta ta fil-ghaxija xi haddiema li keghdin jibnu sewwa sew fejn is-sur tar-Rabat u l’gholja ta Ghelmus, wakt li chienu jicsu il pedamenti ta dar, intakghu ma tebut tal fuhhar jew tax-xakkuf imwakkaf fic-ciangaturi tal fuhhar, wisghajn xi erbgha pulzieri, imkeghdin wahda tistrieh ma l’ohra jghattu tahthom xi ghadam.

Dana l’ghadam, milli jidher, hua kadim hafna ghax malli tmisshu jitmermer u jaka trab.

Din il chixfa kajmet hrara cbira fost hafna nies, u dwarha saru hafna commenti, sahansitra chien hemm min wasal bjex jghid li dalwakt isibu l’ghogiol tad-deheb li jinghad li jinsab midfun f ’dawc li nhawi.
Chiecu sewwa, chiecu sewwa!!?

SURMAST.

English translation:

From Rabat, Gozo.
____________

DISCOVERY OF AN OLD COFFIN
made of terracotta in Gozo.
____________

Rabat, (Gozo) 4/2/33.

Mr Editor,

I ask you to provide me with some space to announce these few words which concern everyone.

On Saturday around evening, some workers who are working on a construction exactly near the Rabat bastion and Ta’ Gelmus hill, while they were covering the foundations of a house, came across a coffin made of terracotta or earthenware consisting of upright terracotta slabs, about four inches thick, put to lean against each other, covering some bones beneath them.

These bones, as they appear, are very old because once they are touched, they disintegrate and fall into dust.

This discovery generated great interest amongst many people, and several comments were made about it, to the extent that there were some who ventured to say that they are about to find the golden calf which is said to be buried in those regions.

That would be great, that would be great!!?

HEADMASTER.

Nowhere else does this discovery appear to have been officially published or recorded and, so, this letter seems to be the only source of information we have about this particular burial.

Although the author of this letter subjectively interpreted this burial as a coffin, his actual description is nonetheless more objective than his interpretation. In fact, his description is clear enough as to enable us to surmise that here we seem to be dealing with a type of burial known as ‘sepoltura alla cappuccina’. This type of burial consisted of a number of upright slabs or tegulae placed to lean against each other, gable-wise, covering the corpse beneath. Very often, another upright slab or tegula was also placed at either end (Fig. 1). Although elsewhere, the present writer has interpreted the gabled shape of this kind of burial as possibly reflecting an ‘abode’ in which the deceased was believed to reside (Azzopardi 2007, 11-12), the slabs’ technically stronger gabled arrangement might rather have been meant to withstand the pressure of the topsoil or clay covering the slabs (see below). Thus, in the case of the ‘alla cappuccina’ burials (like this presumed example), the gabled arrangement might have been functional rather than symbolical.

In the case of our burial, the slabs or tegulae were about 4 inches (10cm) thick; the normal thickness expected of such slabs. Only the bones are mentioned to have been found beneath them. No items accompanying the deceased are mentioned. Presumably, none were placed there. A burial ‘alla cappuccina’ found in 2004 during excavations beneath the floor of the church of S. Andrea on the island of S. Andrea in the Lago di Loppio, in the Trentino-Alto Adige region in Italy was also found to be without any items accompanying the deceased (Borchia 2007, 23-4, 35-6). This would not be surprising when considering that burials of this type are usually associated with poor and humble folk (see below). Several examples reported to have been found around 1720 in Strasbourg (in France) seem to have been an exception. Besides urns with bones, they contained both glass and earthenware vessels, including lamps (Burton 1773, 178-9, footnote a).

Location and context of the burial

According to the reporting letter, the burial was found during the course of construction of a house somewhere near the Rabat bastion (referring to the fortified Citadel beside Rabat) and Ta’ Gelmus hill. Evidently, the house in question was to be found somewhere between the Citadel and Ta’ Gelmus hill for it to have been in the vicinity of both of them. The area where the house was to be found must have, therefore, included a greater extent in Foreman Street and a shorter extension in St Ursola Street, both in Victoria, and where houses of the period (i.e. of around the 1930s) can still be seen (Figs 2-3). This would refer to a specific area hitherto unknown to have ever yielded any ancient burials. Moreover, as the same area is marked by a natural clayey outcrop, it would also seem that the burial might have been discovered within this clay layer, as long as it was not within the soil of a field on top of this clay layer.

However, nearly on top of Ta’ Gelmus hill, cut in a Greensand east-facing rock-face at the interface between the Greensand layer and the clay beneath, one comes across a spring or fountain discharging water from the perched aquifer (Fig. 2). This water spring or fountain appears to have made use of what seems to have been an earlier L-shaped (?) tunnel evidently cut for a funerary purpose, as two arcosolia-like niches visible on the walls near the entrance of the tunnel would seem to suggest (Fig. 4). No troughs could be seen within these arched niches. Unless they are completely missing, any surviving troughs could still be filled with debris concealing the brim. At a later point in time, the floor of the tunnel appears to have been lowered to tap water from the perched aquifer (at the interface between the Greensand layer and the clay beneath), while a ‘dam’ wall was built at the entrance to create a water reservoir.

A lady (who has since passed away), whose family possessed the field where the water spring or fountain is located, had informed the present writer that, in their childhood, her two brothers (one had, by then, already passed away while the other had emigrated) had come across a number of miniature clay containers inside the arcosolialike niches, as well as on the floor of the tunnel, whilst playing there. They collected these miniature clay containers and played with them at home. Similar miniature clay containers are known from funerary contexts like those from Għajn Qatet Street in Victoria (Gozo), which were never studied or published, but are kept in storage at the Gozo Museum of Archaeology (for similar instances of miniature clay containers in a funerary context at Solunto in Sicily, see below).

If, as suspected, the rock-cut tunnel with its niches had originally served as a burial place, this might be an example of the earliest Late Antique hypogeum type in Malta and nearby Sicily, with tombs cut along a single, short corridor. Arcosolia, like the presumed tombs in our tunnel, also seem to be an early type of tomb in Maltese hypogea (Cardona 2022, 43). However, one cannot exclude the possibility of an early type (in this case, an early type of burial) lingering on into later times, especially in rural areas.

Not much more can be said about the immediate context of our burial ‘alla cappuccina’ discovered in February 1933. However, as a general observation, the wider context comprising the Citadel, with its adjacent Rabat and Ta’ Gelmus hill beyond (Fig. 2) in the heart of Gozo, can be seen to somehow replicate the topographical set-up comprising Mdina with its adjacent Rabat and Mtarfa hill beyond in the heart of Malta.

More burials ‘alla cappuccina‘ from Malta and Gozo

Starting from Gozo itself where this burial under review has been reported, a similar burial or burials employing large tiles or slabs in a similar manner have been documented by A. A. Caruana (1899, 50-1, pl. XXI.5) among other types found during the explorations of 1892-93 in the underground burial caves in St Francis Square (see below), about a kilometre away from the burial under review, but also in Victoria (Fig. 2). The burial caves in St Francis Square formed part of the extramural necropolis of the ancient town of Gaulos in antiquity (Azzopardi 2007, 8-10). The similar burial or burials inside St Francis Square burial caves were only documented pictorially by Caruana without being afforded any direct reference or specific mention in his text. Yet, Caruana’s visual documentation shows unequivocally a burial ‘alla cappuccina’ (Fig. 5).

On the other hand, if the burial ‘alla cappuccina’ reported to have been found between the Citadel and Ta’ Gelmus hill formed part of the said extramural necropolis of Gaulos, this would imply that the same necropolis appears to have extended to the north-western outskirts too; quite an extensive stretch that would seem to have spanned from as far as Ta’ l-Ibraġ hill in the east, to Ta’ Gelmus hill in the west.

At least another similar burial seems to have been encountered in Malta. A sketch drawn by Sir Temi Zammit in his field notebook (No. 6) covering the years 1921-1924 shows a seemingly similar type of burial (Fig. 6) wherein the corpse is contained within shallow walls and covered by tiles or slabs leaning against each other gablewise (Zammit 1921-4, 23). Zammit gave no indication of the location of this particular burial, but from notes in the same notebook, it

can be understood to have been found at the site of the Domus Romana in Rabat (Zammit 1921-4, 6-15, 17-29, 38-44). It must be noted that Zammit had suspected Punic burials beneath one of the rooms at the Domus Romana (Zammit 1921-4, 14-15). Burials of the same type (i.e. ‘alla cappuccina’) appear to be also known from Punic contexts (see below). Zammit also reported burials covered with sawn slabs made of Coralline limestone at the same Domus Romana but he does not explain whether these covering slabs were laid flat or gable-wise (Zammit 1921-4, 11, 27). Nor does he mention any terracotta slabs or tiles. He could have easily been referring to the Saracenic burials, which are well documented in the area.

Burials ‘alla cappuccina‘: general observations

The simplest method of inhumation was to lay the corpse in the earth but cover it first with pairs of flat slabs or tegulae laid gable-wise. Very often, another slab or tegula was also placed at either end (Fig. 1). Sometimes, curved and hollow roofing tiles (imbrices) would also be added along the ridge on top. As the materials employed were cheap, and little skill was required to make them, this type of burial could easily be afforded by the poor and those of humble means, with whom they are usually associated (Toynbee 1996, 87, 101-2. For the description of this type of burial, see also Borchia 2007, 29).

Such gabled burials or burials ‘alla cappuccina’ seem to be relatively well-known from the Roman world, and apparently, but perhaps to a lesser extent, from the Punic world too as can be seen in the cemetery of the Byrsa hill at Carthage, in Tunisia, where the gabled slabs are made of stone (Fig. 7). However, more examples seem to be known from the Roman world. The largely palaeochristian cemetery found beneath the Basilica of Sant’ Eustorgio in Milan contains a number of burials ‘alla cappuccina’ (Fig. 8) datable to the 3rd and 4th centuries AD (Devitini et al. 2016, 31. See also Anon 2009, 10, 13). On the basis of seemingly associated numismatic evidence, the burials with gabled clay slabs or tegulae in St Francis Square could also be datable to the 3rd century AD (Azzopardi 2007, 12).

There are also other types of burials in the cemetery beneath the Basilica of Sant’ Eustorgio that are lined with large upright tiles in the shape of a cist, and datable to the 5th century AD (Devitini et al. 2016, 31). In St Francis Square, besides burials ‘alla cappuccina’, burials similarly lined with large upright tiles were also seen inside the underground burial caves explored there in 1892-93 (Caruana 1899, 50-1, pl. XXI.4, 6).

More examples of gabled burials or burials ‘alla cappuccina’ could be seen at the Isola Sacra cemetery north of Ostia, the port of Rome, while others are known from the Vatican necropolis under St Peter’s Basilica in Rome, from York in England, from Rheinzabern in Germany, and from Syracuse in Sicily (Toynbee 1996, 51-2, 66, 69, 87, 102, pls 18-19, 24), as well as from Ajaccio in Corsica (Schlanger 2006, 29). Two earlier burials ‘alla cappuccina’ were brought to light during excavations carried out in 2009 in the necropolis of Solunto, near Palermo in Sicily. On the basis of the finds, these two burials are datable to the first half of the 5th century BC. The finds, which include miniature clay vessels, betray Greek (colonial) presence (on the basis of their typology) in a primarily Punic necropolis (Calascibetta 2021, 408-9).

In spite of this, the burial ‘alla cappuccina’ is a type of burial frequently (but not solely) met with from late Antiquity onwards, particularly in Italy. Although early burials ‘alla cappuccina’ datable to the 5th-4th centuries BC could also be encountered, they are mostly to be found during the Roman Imperial period when they could also be found to hold cremated remains between the early and middle Imperial period (mid-3rd century AD) (Borchia 2007, 29-31, 33-6). A burial ‘alla cappuccina’ of the Roman Imperial period containing some human bones as well as several urns with ashes and earth was, in fact, found near York in England (different to that referred to above) in the winter of the year 1768 (Burton 1773, 177-8, 180, pl. X). It was during late Antiquity (therefore, after the mid-3rd to the 7th century AD) that burials ‘alla cappuccina’ held only inhumations. Moreover, the majority of burials ‘alla cappuccina’ of the Roman period and late Antiquity employed clay tiles (Borchia 2007, 29-31, 33-6).

This would seem to show that gabled burials or burials ‘alla cappuccina’ may have spanned over a long stretch of time: at least, from the 5th century BC to the 3rd or 4th century AD; perhaps even as late as the 7th century AD. In the absence of associated datable material, this long stretch of time would render a precise dating of our burial ‘alla cappuccina’ even more difficult. However, in view of the use of clay slabs as well as of the fact that it held an inhumation, one can perhaps postulate a Roman Imperial date – possibly, a late one too – for our burial ‘alla cappuccina’.

George Azzopardi
100, Triq ix-Xabbata
SANNAT
Gozo
azzopardigeorge1966@gmail.com

References

ANON. 2009. Basilica di Sant’Eustorgio. Il Cimitero paleocristiano. Bergamo: Little Mercury Edizioni.

AZZOPARDI, G. 2007. The Extramural Necropolis of Gaulos. Gozo: The Author.

BORCHIA, C. 2007. La Sepoltura «alla Cappuccina» di Loppio-S. Andrea (TN), Ann. Mus. Civ. Rovereto 22 (2006): 23-40.

BURTON, J. 1773. An Account of a Roman Sepulchre, found near York, in 1768, Archaeologia 1773: 177-80.

CALASCIBETTA, A.M.G. 2021. Contesti Funerari del V secolo A.C. Nuove Evidenze dalla Necropoli di Solunto, in A. ROPPA; M. BOTTO & P. VAN DOMMELEN (eds) Il Mediterraneo Occidentale dalla fase fenicia all’egemonia cartaginese. Dinamiche insediative, forme rituali e cultura materiale nel V secolo a.C.: 403-13. Roma: Edizioni Quasar.

CARDONA, D. 2022. Wignacourt’s Complex 17: An Assessment of New Tombs and Hypogea, in R. J. PILLINGER; B. HAMARNEH & R. HARREITHER (eds) Mitteilungen zur Christlichen Archäologie, 28: 27-44. Wien: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften.

CARUANA, A.A. 1899. Ancient Pottery from the Ancient Pagan Tombs and Christian Cemeteries in the Islands of Malta. Malta: Government Printing Office.

DEVITINI, A., PICOZZI, C. and RIGHI, N. 2016. I Chiostri di S. Eustorgio. Milano: Touring Club Italiano and Chiostri di Sant’ Eustorgio.

IL BERKA, Saturday, 11th February 1933.

SCHLANGER, N. 2006. Preventive archaeology in France: saving the past for the future, Minerva XVII (5): 25-9.

TOYNBEE, J.M.C. 1996. Death and Burial in the Roman World. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press.

ZAMMIT, T. 1921-4. Archaeological Field-Notes (Note-book No 6) 1921-1924. National Museum of Archaeology Library [NMAL] (Valletta, Malta): DAG·16·100, MSS(19).

George AZZOPARDI started his studies in archaeology at the University of Malta where he graduated with a BA(Hons) and MA. Since then, he has nearly always beenemployed in the heritage sector. He received his PhD from Durham University (UK) with research on religious landscapes and identities of the Maltese Islands in a Mediterranean island setting from the Phoenician to late Roman times. He has presented papers and posters at international conferences and workshops in the UK, Germany, and Spain, and published monographs and papers on themes related to Maltese archaeology. His latest monograph published in 2023 by Archaeopress (Oxford) is entitled ‘The Roman municipia of Malta and Gozo. The epigraphic evidence’. He is also a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries of London.

Malta Archaeological Review 2023, issue 13, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2024.1
Received: 3 September 2023 | Accepted: 2 December 2023 | Published online: 12 April 2024

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The post A burial ‘alla cappuccina’ discovered on the north-western outskirts of Victoria, Gozo appeared first on The Archaeological Society Malta.

A badly damaged Roman marble base now in Valletta, Malta, was first published in 1647 and then in 1787. It has been neglected since, mainly because there have been doubts about whether or not it is a genuine antiquity. This study argues for its authenticity, and contextualizes the relief sculpture that decorates three of its sides. The front carries a depiction of Sicilia, the personification of the Roman province of Sicily to which the Maltese Islands belonged. The image is set in context within the small group of known personifications of Sicilia elsewhere. Identical side panels each show a man with what is interpreted here as a turtle balanced on his knee, an apparently unique depiction of these creatures in Roman sculpture. It is suggested that turtles, now scarce in the Mediterranean, were once plentiful in the waters off both Malta and Sicily. In a secondary period, perhaps in the late eighteenth century, the base was badly mutilated during its conversion for use as a fountain. Whether it ever functioned as such is uncertain.

Keywords: Malta; Roman relief sculpture; personification; Sicilia; triskeles; turtles; reuse; early modern fountain

Introduction

In 1647 Giovanni Francesco Abela published a marble base featuring a female head with three legs shown behind it (Fig. 1), which had been found a few years earlier at Saint Paul’s Bay (Abela 1647, 210-211).1 Abela correctly understood that the three legs (the triskeles) were a reference to Sicily, but he interpreted the head as a representation of Proserpina and thought that a full-scale statue of the goddess stood on the base. Even though the base belonged to him, and it was displayed in the garden of his house at Marsa, Abela depicted the leg above the head turned to the right as the viewer sees it, whereas in actual fact it is directed to the left. This must be due to an error by his illustrator, who had to make the copperplate engraving in reverse in preparation for a paper printing the correct way round (as always), but who neglected to do so. Just over a century later, the base was published again by the French painter Jean Houel in the fourth volume of his magnificent Voyage pittoresque des Isles de Sicile, de Malte et de Lipari (Houel 1787, 94, and pl. CCLVI: here Fig. 2). He interpreted the bust as male and as representing Mount Etna; like Abela he recognized the three legs as the symbol of Sicily, an allusion to the island’s ‘trois promontoires de Lilybée, de Pelore, & de Pachino’. Unlike Abela, he also noted the depiction of a figure on both sides of the base, and he shows one of them (in shadow) separately, set immediately to the right of the base itself. He describes it as depicting ‘un homme habillé, qui retient avec effort un gros poisson sur ses genoux’ (Houel 1787, 94). Since then the base has been largely forgotten. In 2000 I wrongly surmised that it ‘may now be lost’ (Wilson 2000, 44); but five years later it showed up again on the front cover of a book by Anthony Bonanno (2005) in a ‘group photo’ mimicking as closely as possible the arrangement of antiquities seen in Houel’s plate. Bonanno, who described the base as ‘showing Trinacria on one side, and the other of a man pouring water’, thought, however, that it was ‘of dubious antiquity’ (2005, 4).

Description

The base (Fig. 3a) is made of fine-grained white marble with only occasional crystalline specks. It stood 79 cm tall, the height still preserved on its rear side; the front face by contrast is damaged. It is square in shape, measuring 63 x 62.5 cm at the top; it is 66.2 cm wide at the bottom.

The figured panel on the front has simple, plain mouldings at top and bottom, each consisting of a flat band and then a sloping one inwards towards the panel. These went round all four sides of the base, although they are damaged at the back. In the centre a large head, 27 cm high, is carved in low relief, now gravely disfigured. Thin wavy lines denote hair (rather than snakes) and determine, together with the three legs behind, that the bust represents a personification of the province of Sicily, Sikelia in Greek, Sicilia in Latin. Alterations in a secondary period chiseled out the eyebrows, both eyes and the nose, and the mouth was obliterated by a circular hole c. 6.5 cm in diameter. Its presence and other indications (see below) indicate that at some stage the base was prepared for use as a fountain. Of the three legs the two side ones point in different directions. This as we shall see often occurs in depictions of Sicilia and is done for aesthetic reasons, to present a pleasingly balanced composition. The head is shown as though it was detached and set within a separate bust, a detail recorded by Abela but not by Houel.

The right-hand side of the base consists of a figured panel (36 cm x 45 cm) on the left, and a plain, uncarved part to the right (Fig. 3b). A naked man (Houel says he is clothed) stands in profile facing left with his right foot planted on a rather irregular rock. The creature which he rests on his right knee was described by Houel as a large fish, but even though tuna can sometimes grow to a length of 2 m or more, they have two prominent dorsal fins (and lesser fins on the underside) which are missing here. Bonanno (2005, 4) thought the man was pouring water, presumably from an amphora, but there are then unexplained details – on the lower side of the alleged container, and at the entrance to what is taken to be its neck – which in my view make this interpretation unlikely. The creature being held ‘with difficulty’ (‘avec effort’), as Houel says, is, I would suggest, a turtle (Fig. 3c). Its size is appropriate, the smooth rounded back is suitable as a depiction of its carapace, and although details are damaged, I take the projection near the front of the underside as the turtle’s front left flipper, while its rear flipper is being grasped by the man with his left hand. On the left at the end of the shell there projects a clear oval shape in relief that I take to be a depiction of the turtle’s head. The raised relief here which continues on past the turtle to the surviving edge of the base may indicate that he was shown holding an object, perhaps the club by which the unfortunate creature was to be battered to death. An identical scene in an almost identically sized panel is shown on the left-hand side (Fig. 3d), but here damage has been extensive and few individual details of the original surface survive. The man’s left foot rests firmly on a flat rock, and his back (right) foot is shown with the heel raised.

On the top of the base, towards the rear, are two L-shaped projections (at the back, to left and right, in Fig. 3e), which must originally have extended around all four sides. All of the flat surface that this border originally surrounded (except for a small surviving fragment at the rear) has been hacked away in a secondary period when the base was converted for intended use as a fountain. The coarse pick marks of this work are clearly visible, fashioning an inclined surface which suggests that water was intended to fall on it from above and be channeled towards the new vertical channel, which is 8 cm wide at the top, at the back of the base (at top centre in Fig. 3e).

That opening marks the top of a vertical cut in the rear of the base, shallow at first in the upper part (8 cm wide and 9 cm from back to front), but progressively greater as it descends (up to 31 cm, back to front). Water was presumably intended to be carried in a metal pipe here, connecting with another in the horizontal cut through the middle of the base which would have carried water to the circular hole at the front. Here water was planned to spout into a collecting basin below.

Roman or post-Roman

Despite Bonanno’s scepticism, I firmly believe that this is a genuine piece of Roman sculpture, albeit of modest quality. There is no reason to doubt Abela’s claim that it was found in the 1630s or 1640s, and surely no local sculptor would have had a motive for carving a marble block in, say, the early seventeenth century, on which he chose, or was asked, to carve the emblem of the Roman province of Sicily. Few atthe time except appassionati of Greek and Roman coins would have known of the iconography. In particular it would have held no relevance for Malta and its citizens after the end of Byzantine rule. Although the islands continued to be part of the kingdom of Sicily until 1530, the triskeles was no longer employed in Sicilian iconography after the end of antiquity. Short-lived revivals of the symbol appeared first in 1814 and 1848, and then in Sicilian independence movements during the 1940s. It was only adopted as the centrepiece of the Sicilian flag and on all communications from the Regione Siciliana as recently as 2000. The presence of the base in Malta only makes sense if it were carved when the Maltese archipelago formed part of provincia Sicilia, a period when the emblem of the three legs was used as an eloquent and distinctive symbol of Sicilian identity.

Identity of the bust

As noted above, the bust on the principal face, on the basis of a handful of comparanda in mosaic and sculpture, can be identified as a personification of Sicilia, and so is (pace Houel) female. A full discussion of the history of the iconography of the triskeles itself, and of the female head with triskeles behind, can be found elsewhere (Wilson 1994, 2000, 2003, 2009; cf. also 1997 and Salcedo Garcés 1994), but it is important to clarify here the distinction between the triskeles symbol on the one hand (sometimes called also the Trinacria, an ancient name for Sicily), and the personification of the province on the other.

In brief, the triskeles is a symbol consisting of three legs emerging from a point or a circular disc at its centre. It first occurs on two pieces of Sicilian-made pottery from southern Sicily, one from near Palma di Montechiaro, the other from Bitalemi near Gela, both c. 600 BC (De Miro 1962, 129-133; Orlandini 1964). It is probably a sun symbol like the swastika; but it is not exclusive to Sicily, occurring for example as a shield device on Athenian pottery in the sixth and early fifth centuries BC, and later on the coinage of various cities in Asia Minor and elsewhere (Sapienza 2019, nos 27-54). It even appears in relief on a stone block in the agora at Adada in Pisidia (pers. obs.). Agathocles in the late fourth century BC was the first to have added the head of Medusa to the centre of the triskeles, putting it on his soldiers’ shields as well as on coin issues (Hoover 2012, nos 1365 and 1459; Sapienza 2019, 142-152) (Fig. 4a), but only in the Roman period did the triskeles come into its own as a symbol of the province, when the Medusa head was retained, and ears of wheat were often added as a clear reference to Sicilian agricultural fertility. That is the type which appears on municipal coinage in late Republican and Augustan Sicily (Burnett et al. 1992, nos 641, 644, 646-7 and 659; Sapienza 2019, nos 17-21), and later on the coinage of Clodius Macer, would-be Emperor in the troubled year of AD 68/69 (Sutherland 1984, 195) (Fig. 4a-c). It also features in other media, as on a high-quality cornelian (Boardman 1968, no. 42) (Fig. 4d).

The personification of Sicilia, by contrast, shows quite clearly a woman’s head, not that of the snake-infested Medusa. The earliest representation of Sikelia is on a coin of c. 340 BC, of uncertain mint (possibly Halaesa), showing a woman in profile to right, wearing earrings and a wreath of myrtle (Wilson 1994, 759, no. 1; Hoover 2012, no. 183). She has no distinguishing attributes but the coin legend ΣΙΚΕΛΙΑ, makes identification possible. The first Roman representation of Sicilia occurs on a Roman denarius of 71 BC, depicted as a kneeling figure about to be helped to her feet by a conquering co-general (Crawford 1974, no. 401/1). Again there are no distinctive attributes; again it is the coin legend, SICIL(ia), which indicates who she is. These early versions of Sicilia lack the accompanying three legs.

One of the first images of Sicilia to include the distinctive triskeles behind the head is on a now-lost fresco from Pompeii (and so before AD 79) (Helbig 1868, no. 1115; Ostrowski 1990, 201, no. 8) (Fig. 5). The drawing of it that has come down to us shows only two legs, not three, but a third may have been originally present but was already lost when the painting was discovered and recorded. Sicilia is depicted also with ears of wheat in her hair and she wears a small turreted mural crown – an attribute more appropriate to cities than to whole provinces. A mosaic from Belkis-Seleukia in Turkey, however, shows each of the ten surviving provinces (all of them named) wearing a mural crown, so Sicilia (which does not survive on that floor) is likely to have worn one too (Parlasca 1983; Kriseleit 2000, 45-51, no. 13). Sicily also wears a mural crown (and has the three legs also) on a lamp made by Loukios at Corinth in Greece (Broneer 1930, 194, no. 603) (Fig. 6). Why a Corinthian lampmaker, active c. AD 200, should decorate the discus of one of his lamps in this way is a mystery. Although Corinthian lamps are occasionally found in Sicily, the island does not seem to have been a large-scale export target for Corinthian lamp makers. Did Loukios hope for one when he created this image of Sikelia on one his products, thinking that it might become popular in Sicily? Yet no example of the Corinth Sikelia lamp has ever been found in Sicily itself.

More like the Malta example is one image in mosaic and two further examples in stone. The mosaic, in situ in the Terme della Trinacria at Ostia, of c. AD 120/130, shows a mournful Sicilia, identifiable by the triskeles behind her head (Becatti 1961, no. 275 with Tav. CXXXIV) (Fig. 7). Of the two stone examples, one occurs, rather surprisingly, on the aristocratic tomb of C. Utianus Rufus, at Polla in southern Campania, dating to the first half of the first century AD (Spinazzola 1910; Bracco 1959) (Fig. 8a). The image of Sicily with the three legs appears to the right of the funerary inscription, and, as though its significance may not have been entirely clear to its audience, the letters SIC(ilia) are inscribed around it (Fig. 8b). I take this to be a representation of Sicilia rather than simply the triskeles, because a full head of hair is shown without a trace of snakes; it is not therefore a depiction of the Medusa. If so, it may be the earliest representation of the personification with triskeles known. Why Utianus Rufus chose to have this depicted on his tomb, or what links if any he had with Sicily, is unknown.

The other is a small depiction on a marble base from Ostia in the Vatican (Helbig 1963, 440, no. 557; Ostrowski 1990, 201, no. 7; Spinola 2004, 284-286, no. 98, inv. 2619) (Fig. 9), where Sicilia, a female bust with curly hair and the three legs behind, is accompanied by personifications of Africa and Annona (the corn supply), a demonstration of Sicily’s importance, along with Africa, as a corn producer. An early fourth century date has been suggested (L’Orange and van Gerkan 1939, 100); if correct it would be the latest representation of Sicilia known. All the other examples, however, belong to the first or second centuries AD (although the Corinth lamp may date to the first half of the third century), and it seems likely that the Malta base belongs to the same chronological time frame.

In some examples there is ambiguity. As mentioned, the panel on the tomb at Polla, interpreted by earlier commentators as Medusa, is more likely in the absence of snakes to be Sicilia, as indeed the accompanying letters SIC(ilia) imply. A very simple image on a mosaic at Ostia, perhaps Claudian, also lacks attributes beyond the three legs (Becatti 1961, no. 68 with Tav. CXXIII) (Fig. 10); but this does not look like the gracious female head of other personifications of the province, and despite the absence of snakes (or hair of any kind) it is probably a straightforward triskeles symbol. A pavement at Tindari of c. AD 200 certainly shows a triskeles because of the corn ears (cf. Fig. 18) even though the snakes of Medusa are not clearly depicted (Von Boeselager 1983, 115-117; Wilson 1990, 2, Fig. 2) (Fig. 11). Corn ears set as projections from the head in this very noticeable way do not form part of the iconography of Sicilia.

Interpretation of the side panels

That a depiction on each side panel apparently shows turtles being handled is intriguing. The ancient world did not distinguish between turtles (a marine creature with flippers) and tortoises (a land animal of course, with legs); the same word is used for both, chelone in Greek, testudo in Latin (Kitchell 2013, 186-188; also Lewis and Llewellyn-Jones 2018, 556-564). The turtle was sought after in antiquity above all for its shell, for use in furniture inlay in Rome and for sound boxes in musical instruments such as the lyre, but Pliny (HN 9.12.35-13.39; 32.14.35-38) informs us also that the flesh was eaten, and in addition gives us an astonishing range of its medicinal properties, including as a balm for snake and scorpion bites, and as a cure for dandruff and epilepsy. Turtles are rarely depicted in Greek visual culture (Kraay 1966, nos 335-336; Kitchell 2013, 188; Settis 1966, fig. 9) and never, as far as I am aware, in Roman sculpture, so the Malta base is exceptional. A creature at lower left in the damaged mosaic at Palestrina dominated by fish is described by Andreae (2002, 36, figs 7-8) as a ‘tartaruga marina’, i.e. a turtle, but it is depicted on land, not in water, and clearly has feet: it represents a tortoise, not a turtle (in Andreae 2003, 128, fig. 128, it is described as a ‘Schildkröte’, which means both ‘tortoise’ and ‘turtle’). On Roman archaeological sites, turtle carapace fragments have rarely been noted, although one has been identified in a first century AD context in Beirut, and four further examples in a fifth-century AD level, also at Beirut (Cakirlar et al. 2021).

Today the marine turtle is highly protected, so rare has it become through excessive hunting over the centuries. Three species are reported today as present in the Mediterranean, of which the loggerhead turtle, Caretta caretta, is the most common, yet its nesting sites in Italy, in particular Puglia, Calabria, Sardinia, as well as Sicily, number no more than forty. They occur more plentifully today in Greece, especially on beaches in Zakynthos, Kyparissia, Lakonikos, Rethymno, Chania, Messenia, and Koroni (https://www.worldwildlife.org/species/seaturtle, consulted 27.03.23). Less frequent are the green turtle, Chelonia mydas, and the leatherback turtle, Dermochelys coriacea. Kemp’s ridley turtle (Lepidochelys kempii) and the Hawksbill turtle (Eretmochelys imbricata) have received only extremely rare sightings in the Mediterranean in recent decades (Fig. 12). It was not always so: two centuries ago the waters off Sicily and no doubt off Malta too were replete with turtles. In a throw-away remark Admiral Smyth mentioned, while discussing the polypus in the waters off Salina in the Aeolian Islands, that they were at their most plentiful ‘generally during the time that the hawk’s-bill turtle are taken’ (1824, 274). One can understand why the latter was particularly hunted: the markings on the shell are particularly attractive. Whichever species of turtle the Malta base was depicting, painted additions in colour would have enlivened the composition and aided identification.

Why were turtles, if correctly identified, chosen to illustrate the Malta base? If the personification of Sicilia represents the land of the province of Sicily (including the Maltese Islands) and its fertility, perhaps the side panels complemented that by referring to the riches of the adjoining seas. In that case plentiful turtles present in its waters symbolize an abundance of marine life. If so the hunting of turtles at the appropriate season may have made a modest contribution to the Maltese economy in Roman times.

If the above interpretation of the base is correct, that Sicilia represents the fertility of the land and that turtles are symbolic of the richness of its waters, it is hard to parallel such a pairing in the iconography of Sicilia elsewhere. The tomb at Polla may be a candidate. A panel to the left of the inscription shows, apparently, a man sitting on a rock facing left, with his left leg outstretched and his right tucked back against the rock (Fig. 13). He appears to be wearing a closefitting pointed cap (pace Spinazzola 1910, 79 and Bracco 1959, 196, who mistake this for a satyr’s ear). In his left hand he holds two rods. Is he fishing? Fishermen are often depicted, on lamps and mosaics, for example, as wearing either a pointed hat, as on a mosaic under the church of Agios Demetrios at Kos (Kankeleit 2003, 278, fig. 14) (Fig. 14) or one with a brim to serve as a sunshade, as on an African lamp found in Agrigento (Griffo 1987, 177, fig. 152; cf. Bailey 1988, 46, Q 1715) (Fig. 15). Could this be a reference to fresh water and the abundance of springs that contributed so much to Sicilian fertility? Or did the two panels refer to quite different activities in the life of the deceased (the one denoting a spell in Sicily as governor, or ownership of a favourite villa there, the other a fondness for fishing as a pastime?). We simply do not know.

Nor do we understand the function of the Valletta base. Because the top is not in its original state, we do not know if it was designed to stand alone or to support something above, whether a column or a statue. If the latter, it is possible that the divinity represented was connected with the sea, in which case the depiction of turtles would have been wholly appropriate. Once again, however, in the absence of evidence, we lack any clarity as to why the representation of turtles on the Maltese base was ever conceived.

The secondary (projected?) use as a fountain

The base has had a chequered history since the seventeenth century. When Abela (to whom it belonged) died in 1655, his collection was left to the Jesuit fathers in Valletta. After their expulsion from Malta in 1768, the remnants of Abela’s collection were taken to the Grand Master’s Palace when Emmanuel de Rohan was Grand Master (1775-1797), and were placed in the ‘Biblioteca’, a room in the palace used to house antiquities as well as books before their transfer to a purpose-built Biblioteca building in the decade after Houel’s visit. The collection remained there until the early twentieth century, when the Valletta Museum was created, in Palazzo Xara in front of Saint John’s Cocathedral. The Museum has moved twice since, first in the 1920s to the Auberge d’Italie, and then after the Second World War II to the Auberge de Provence, where the marble base under discussion is housed in store today.

The changes made in a secondary period to make the base suitable for use as a fountain have been described above. We do not know when these drastic alterations were made, and there is no documentary evidence recording them. Perhaps the work of conversion was never finished; certainly the pick marks left by the conversions look very rough. I assume that the attempted conversion occurred after Houel had seen the base during the 1770s in its original state, and was presumably therefore carried out in the late eighteenth century or very early in the nineteenth, before attitudes changed gradually towards preserving antiquities rather than mutilating them. I think it highly unlikely that the base had already been altered before Houel saw it, and that he merely ignored the changes and presented the base as he imagined it in its original state. That is not Houel’s manner. Although he sometimes makes mistakes about the immediate surroundings of the monuments he describes, he can normally be counted on for accuracy in his observation of the object or monument which is the central focus of each image.

The Roman marble base in Valletta has been unjustly neglected for too long. Despite its poor condition, the relief panel on the front provides an interesting example in the small group of known personifications of Sicilia, while the reliefs on the sides of the base, which in my view depict men handling turtles, appear, if correctly interpreted, to be unique in Roman sculpture – an allusion to creatures once likely to have been plentiful in the waters off Maltese (and Sicilian) shores.

Acknowledgements

I am grateful for permission to publish the base to the Director of the National Museum of Archaeology, Dr Sharon Sultana, who kindly arranged to have it brought it from the stores for me to study in May 2022; to Marcia Grima, for much help during my visit; and to Dr Reuben Grima and Nathaniel Cutajar, for generously sharing with me their own research on the more recent history of the base. Dr Grima also kindly read a draft of this paper and I am grateful to him for his helpful comments. I would also like to acknowledge here the time and practical assistance given to me both in advance of and during my visit to Malta by Anthony Bonanno and David Cardona. Dr Norbert Franken kindly gave permission for his photo of the Kos mosaic to be published here. The astute comments of my friend John Crawshaw, who kindly read a draft of this paper, were as always much appreciated, enriching the final version presented here. This kindness comes exactly fifty years after the first manuscript of mine that he scrutinized, also to its great advantage. I am grateful too to Nino Ampolo, who drew my attention to Settis 1966. The photograph of the Corinth lamp, acquired with the assistance of Hector Williams, is published here by kind permission of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, Corinth Excavations.

Roger J. A. Wilson
Centre for the Study of Ancient Sicily
Department of Ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern Studies
University of British Columbia
Vancouver V6Y 1Z1 – Canada
roger.wilson@ubc.ca

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WILSON, R.J.A. 2000. On the trail of the triskeles: from the Macdonald Institute to archaic Greek Sicily. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 10: 35–61. WILSON, R.J.A. 2003. From Palma di Montechiaro to the Isle of Man: the use of the triskeles in antiquity and after, in G. FIORENTINI, M. CALTABIANO & A. CALDERONE (eds) Archeologia nel Mediterraneo: studi in onore di Ernesto De Miro: 721-747. Rome: L’Erma di Bretschneider.

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Roger J. A. WILSON is Director of the Centre for the Study of Ancient Sicily at the University of British Columbia, where he was awarded the Killam Prize for Research in recognition of his life-long contributions to scholarship. He has also taught at the Universities of Nottingham and Dublin, and been Visiting Professor at McMaster University, Balsdon Fellow at the British School at Rome, Guest Scholar at the Getty Villa, Malibu, Dalrymple Lecturer in Archaeology at Glasgow, and Byvanck Lecturer at the National Museum of Antiquities, Leiden. Among his books are Piazza Armerina (1982), Sicily under the Roman Empire (1990), and Caddeddi on the Tellaro (2016). He is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada.

Note

1. The present paper is a condensed, but also revised, version of Wilson 2022, to which the reader is referred for more detail.

Malta Archaeological Review 2023, issue 13, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2023.2
Received: 11 April 2023 | Accepted: 4 July 2023 | Published online: 10 October 2023

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The post A forgotten Roman marble base in the National Museum of Archaeology appeared first on The Archaeological Society Malta.

Keywords: sketch book; St Paul’s Catacombs; F. Vassallo; A. A. Caruana; burial sites; documentation; Maltese Islands

A sketch book by Filippo Vassallo is a primary source for late nineteenth-century documentation of archaeological sites in the Maltese Islands. Other than revealing the documentation process behind the first plan of St Paul’s Catacombs (Malta), the extensive use of surveying and the attention for detail make the sketch book an important witness to the evolving contemporary Maltese recording of archaeological finds. It also throws light on how A. A. Caruana’s 1898 book on Maltese ancient burial sites was put together.

His ability coupled with his long experience […] his good will and zeal
displayed in the discharge of his duties – and his general education, are
what can be desired in an efficient public officer.
NAM, CSG01-13493/1887, Galizia/Hely
Hutchinson 12.12.1887

Biographical note

Although Filippo Vassallo’s (Fig. 1) qualities were well recognised in his lifetime (see quotation above), there remains scope for a better appreciation of his work related to Maltese archaeology. A reassessment of the contents of a sketch book, preserved at the National Museum of Archaeology (NMA), helps to achieve this goal even though this sketch book was extensively used by Buhagiar (1986), referred to by other authors (Bugeja 2008; Cardona 2008, 53) and a short biography on Vassallo’s artistic work published recently (Ganado and Espinosa Rodriguez 2018, 547-48).
Born on 30 December 1831, son of Cesare Vassallo and Geatana née Bugeja, Filippo’s interest in antiquities was undoubtedly influenced by his father’s work. Indeed, Cesare as Librarian of the Malta Public Library for over forty years (1839-1880) continued the Librarian’s legacy of interest in archaeology by writing about the subject (Vassallo 1871, 1876). Cesare also occasionally took the young Filippo with him during explorations introducing him to the subject (Borg 1996, 216). On the other hand, Filippo’s artistic talent developed by studying art at the Lyceum and pursuing studies under the painter Giovanni Schranz. Although he graduated as a Doctor of Laws from the University of Malta in 1856, Filippo never practised law and pursued a career in the Public Works Department (Ganado and Espinosa Rodriguez 2018, 547). Appointed temporary draughtsman in the Department of Land Revenue and Public Works on 1 December 1865, he was promoted Draughtsman No. 1 on 1 December 1872, and remained in this post on 7 June 1880 when this department became the Public Works Department (NAM, CSG45, 4,
597).

Filippo Vassallo’s contribution to archaeology mainly came through collaboration with Antonio Annetto Caruana, Cesare’s successor at the Malta Public Library in 1880. The discovery of a Roman domus (Rabat, Malta) with outstanding mosaics and the commissioning of a report on the state of local archaeological remains by the Colonial Office in London, placed archaeology firmly within the agenda of the local government (Bugeja 2004). In the ensuing years Caruana published a few short reports on finds for which he often sought the services of personnel at the Public Works Department to illustrate his texts. Indeed, plans and mosaic reproductions by the Superintendent of Public Works Galizia, were used to accompany an account of the Roman domus (Caruana 1881). Vassallo, already involved in documenting archaeological finds by 1882 (Bugeja 2004, 62-66), provided plans of tombs for burial sites later discovered at Għajnsielem and Tal-Liebru (Caruana 1884a, 1884b) as well as drawings of Ħaġar Qim based on the surveys of Francesco Wettinger (Caruana 1886, 3).

By 1885, Caruana appears to have moved away from issuing reports on individual tombs and instead gathered information for a comparative survey of such sites (NAM, CSG01-4284/1885). With Caruana as Librarian to the Malta Public Library, and Filippo made Assistant Librarian in 1888, a closer cooperation between the two men was possible. This led to Filippo’s documentation of archaeological finds, which were included in the sketch book under examination and used for Caruana’s (1898) monograph on ancient tombs.

The sketch book

The handwritten manuscript under study (Vassallo c.1888-1895), referred here as the ‘sketch book’ as done by Buhagiar (1986), is preserved in the reserve collection of the NMA. Originally thread bound, its pages are today mostly loose, unpaginated and without an outer cover, making it difficult to ascertain the original sequence of pages. It contains about 89 pages of light grey-coloured paper (32 cm by 21.5 cm), with the occasional folded sheet (43 cm by 33 cm) inserted. Most pages have sketches and notes written in pencil, some have plans fixed to them while a few are blank. Two signed letters written by Vassallo addressed to Caruana are also included; these letters help identify Vassallo’s calligraphy and thus assign the sketch book and other works to him.

St Paul’s Catacombs

Many pages in the sketch book are related to the surveying of St Paul’s catacombs for which Vassallo is well-known (Buhagiar 1986, 49-69) (Fig. 2). A plan of the Abbatija tad-Dejr catacombs, a burial site with a regular plan, was already made in the seventeenth century (Abela 1647, 48) and other smaller sites were planned in the following century (Houel 1787, 4, pl. 263). In contrast, the size, darkness and complexity of St Paul’s Catacombs provided quite a challenge for surveying, a feat that was only first tackled successfully by Vassallo in the late nineteenth century. The sketch book was crucial for this process and is the best document available on how this was achieved.

It is clear that the complex was surveyed in parts as some plans are dated. For most of the tombs the general shape and arrangement was sketched, the length and breadth often recorded, and notes made of the shape of internal features. This method is also applied for larger spaces, but here the recording of diagonals for triangulation purposes is added. Individual areas were sometimes repeatedly drawn to improve accuracy based on the sketches and measurements taken. The end results are comparable with what has been achieved by a modern total station survey with minor differences in recording of the orientation and size of tombs (pers. comm. David Cardona 22 February 2022).

For the irregular curvaceous passage between the main complex and a catacomb adjoining the nearby Rector’s Garden, an open traverse survey (Hogg 2015, 188-99) was used with the length and axes of the different parts of the passage and the angles between them noted. A loose paper, showing a basic ‘protractor’ with marks every 9° and still preserved with the sketch book, was probably used for this, throwing light on the accuracy of surveying. The reason for choosing this angle eludes the present author as well as the surveyor and architects consulted. Once the axes of the passage were determined, further measurements and sketches were prepared showing width of the passage and layout (Fig. 3).

When space on the sketch done was insufficient, Vassallo used a different part of the page to improve his documentation. The same technique was used to show relationships between different parts or levels of the catacomb, allowing him to understand the site along the third dimension. Comparable to his work at St Paul’s Catacomb was a detailed survey of the Crypt at St Agatha and Abbatija tad-Dejr, the latter with drawings of a decorated ceiling, an arcosolium and sections. All this reflects his earlier achievements evident in the publication of the burial site at Tal-Liebru for which Vassallo provided the plans (Caruana 1884b, pls 1-7).

Other sites – detailed recording

Vassallo’s work fits within a general trend of recording burial sites in greater detail discernible in the second half of nineteenth century Malta. The publications by Swann (1866, 483-87) and Thurnam (1866, 488-99) were landmark studies for Maltese funerary archaeology as identifiable discovered items were listed, measured and sometimes drawn, with notes made on pottery ware, decoration and shape. Through a careful examination of the skeletal remains found, conclusions on the manner of deposition of bodies and a minimum number of individuals was reached. Leading scholars were contacted to examine the skulls and site formation processes considered when explaining bone discolouration. Caruana’s (1884a) later monograph on a tomb found at Għajnsielem reflects these developments by providing an inventory of the bones, pottery and coins found. Furthermore, through the reproduction of plans and drawings by Galizia, Calleja and Vassallo himself, the positioning of the skeletons and pottery is also illustrated.

This attention to detail is also noticeable in Vassallo’s sketch book. There is an interest in the location of the burial sites in relation to contemporary modern landmarks as well as the contents of the tombs. Thus for a tomb at Qala (Gozo), Vassallo indicated the position and distance from a named road, dimensions of the tomb and place within the tomb where a vase was found. Likewise for discoveries at Strada Vajringa (Rabat, Gozo) he gives the location in relation to door number and street. A measured plan and a section drawing of a tomb near Ta’ Ħlantun is accompanied by a list of the items found, and markings of the find spot of at least one of them. The difference in orientation of one of the skeletons with respect to another tomb within the chamber is also noted and sketched (Fig. 4). Similar lists or details are more comprehensive for a burial site at Ħal Pilatu (Rabat, Malta), where the position of no less than eight finds and that of the skeletons is provided in Vassallo’s sketch book (Fig. 5) which, unlike the articles by Swann and Thurnam, shows tombs and contents in a single drawing. Vassallo’s work anticipates comparable but slightly more detailed and realistic standards of documentation provided by the later Superintendent of Public Works Lorenzo Gatt for a tomb at Qormi in 1901 (Bugeja 2019). Such meticulous documentation became a more common feature in later works and appears in Zammit’s notebooks (1907, 29, 32, 41-42, 55) and Bellanti’s works (1913, 60, 76), the latter also illustrating the sequence in deposits at a time when stratigraphy was being recorded at the megalithic site of Santa Verna (McLaughlin et al. 2021, 23-25).

Vassallo’s recording of finds may have followed Caruana’s recommendation to take ‘notice of the circumstances of each discovery’ even if minute (Bugeja 2011, 363). This occurs at a time when Pitt-Rivers (1887) was pioneering detailed recording of sites and artefacts at Cranborne Chase but the documentation in the latter is by far much more voluminous, comprehensive and advanced than that by Vassallo. Furthermore, unlike what Schliemann (1875, 10) had done at Troy and others (Schnapp 1999, 198-204, 312), Vassallo makes no attempt to record stratigraphy in his work even though Caruana (1881, 4) had noted a historical sequence in the deposits and remains of the Rabat Roman domus. In Malta where the regular training of archaeologists was only introduced in the late twentieth century (Bonanno 1996), it is a reminder that contributions to archaeology were often made by interested non-professional archaeologists who brought their personal skills to the subject, Filippo Vassallo contributing through his experience in surveying.

Sketches, studies and notes

Through the sketch book, Vassallo continued the legacy established by previous artists (e.g. Houel 1787) to record sites through freehand sketches. Two drawings of the Gozitan megalithic remains at Tal-Qigħan and Borġ Għarib (Fig. 6) with the Torri ta’ Kenuna in the background provide a good visual idea of what are now much disturbed sites. Interest in background features also appears for the Qala menhir where the Ta’ Sufa windmill is also included.

The sketch book was also a useful place where notes were kept, and records of ancient and more recent Latin inscriptions made. It also reveals an interest in site positioning within a wider landscape as evident in a comment that the Marsaxlokk harbour was visible from Tal-Ġawhar. Several drawings of funerary triclinia and notes on the number found of each within the respective catacomb, hint at an attempt to study these features according to shape, later undertaken in more detail by Camilleri and Gingell-Littlejohn (1997).

Notes of bills related to the surveying of the catacombs by candlelight, cabs needed for travel and boat trips essential to record sites in Gozo throw light what was behind the practice of recording archaeology. A letter related to a tomb near the Corradino prison on 26 July 1893 records the first known use of the telephone in Malta to communicate the discovery of an archaeological find.

Relevance to modern archaeology

Beyond its interest for archaeological historiography, the sketch book is also useful as a resource for modern archaeological research. Generally, it provides plans and details about archaeological sites uncovered around Mdina and in rural Malta in the late nineteenth-century often through the contemporary increase in building and developments in infrastructure and transport (see Zammit 2002). More specifically it may hold information that supplements that acquired through more recent investigations. One example is Vassallo’s plan of the area adjoining the Tal-Balla windmill at Għeriexem which provides more information and a more precise location of a site already known for doorways and mosaic pavements (Pavimentum Lestaceum and Pavimentum Sectilia) (Caruana 1899, 276; Sagona 2002, 17). An amphora from the site, drawn by Vassallo, allows it to be identified as ‘most probably a Dressel 1 amphora…’ commonly ‘Late Republican in date’ and imitated ‘after the late first century BC/early first century AD in many regions’ (pers. comm. M. Anastasi 23 February 2021) (Fig. 7). This fits neatly with the late second century BC to first century AD finds from the Roman domus (Bonanno 2005, 308, 310) and in line with findings at the nearby Melita esplanade site (Anastasi 2019, 12-21) revealing widespread use of the area during these times. Likewise, a sketch of an undated long wall made of sizable blocks and built in two courses on Via Boschetto (modern Triq Nikolas Saura) close to the Franciscan Convent in Rabat (Malta) compliments other archaeological remains in the area (Bonanno 2005, 215-16) and may serve as a resource to throw light on the ancient urban landscape of Melite, the reconstruction of which remains a desideratum.

The sketch book also provides information on sites which have witnessed change over the past century. Indeed, the sketch book documents two megaliths at the location of St Anthony’s chapel at Ta’ Ħlantun that have since disappeared and is also an early record of measurements of the ancient ashlar wall at Safi and the round buildings at Ta’ Ġawhar and Tat-Torrijiet. A plan of a cave at Ir-Ramlija (Fig. 8), close to Marsalforn is rare, if not unique, and probably concerns the cave described by Houel (1787, 86) a century earlier (see Buhagiar 2014, 297-98).

Sources for Caruana’s publication on funerary sites

Together with other documents, the sketch book was a resource used to compile Caruana’s (1898) volume on ancient Maltese burials, throwing light on the process behind late nineteenth-century Maltese archaeological publication (Fig. 5).

As outlined above, the sketch book was used for on-site documentation but also served for further detailing of preliminary observations (Fig. 3). The more advanced and larger drawings in a ‘collection of manuscripts, loose field notes, and sketches’ catalogued as Lib. Ms 1598 at the National Library of Malta (NLM) (see Azzopardi 2007, 9, 10, 36, 39; Vella 2005), probably represent a subsequent stage in the preparation for publication. Although catalogued by the NLM as by Caruana, the handwriting in most of the notes to the sketches resembles more that by Vassallo, making the latter the likely author. Reference in this library manuscript to dated entries and abbozzi (sketches) in a ‘field-book’ (see Azzopardi 2007, 36, 39) do not correlate with the sketch book at the NMA. This points to a further manuscript used in the documentation process. The whereabouts of this field book remain unknown.

From all these sketches and drawings, Vassallo’s produced small hand-coloured paintings. Paintings like those that were subsequently published are affixed in a volume of Caruana’s 1898 publication on tombs donated to the NMA by the Caruana Galizia family (NMA, Caruana 1898 listed as DAG 16.185 No. 152) (Zammit 1965, 7). These paintings are almost certainly the ‘accurately executed’ drawings referred to by Caruana (1898, 41) and are behind the chromolithographs by the London firm Griggs and Sons in the published book.

Conclusion

Vassallo’s sketch book is an important record of sites explored in the late nineteenth century and is a natural addition to other later field notebooks related to Maltese archaeology. Through this essay, it is hoped that the sketch book and contribution made by Filippo Vassallo are further appreciated for their contribution to the development of archaeological practice in Malta in the late nineteenth century.

Acknowledgements

The author wishes to thank Dr Maxine Anastasi, Perit Adrian Mifsud and Perit James Galea, Mr Noel Sant, Ms Sharon Sultana, Mr David Cardona, and Heritage Malta for their assistance.

Anton Bugeja
42, Tbissima, Triq is-Salib
Siggiewi SGW3301 – Malta
antonbugeja@hotmail. com

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Anton BUGEJA is a family doctor by profession, and shows a keen interest in the history of Maltese archaeology. He has been active in archaeology-related NGOs for a number of years.

Malta Archaeological Review 2022, issue 13, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2023.1
Received: 8 November 2021 | Accepted: 1 June 2023 | Published online: 10 October 2023

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Ugolini has an ambiguous place in the history of research on Maltese prehistory. He spent much time in Malta in the 1920s and 30s, conducting archaeological research, yet he has largely been excluded from discussions of the topic. Evans (1971) often cites images from Ugolini’s (1934) book, but barely mentions his ideas. In his introduction Evans, while reluctantly admitting that Ugolini’s book was “the only general study” on Maltese prehistory in the inter- war years, claims “its value (was) much reduced by political and propagandist aims that were allowed to dictate the conclusions in defiance of the evidence” (1971, 4). Among the material brought to light by Pessina and Vella (2021a, 1), one can find expressions such as “fascist archaeological ineptitude”, written in a letter from John Ward-Perkins to Mortimer Wheeler.

By 1923 Ugolini was a member of the National Fascist Party, and his legacy is stained by this relationship. But was his work simply propaganda aimed at serving Italian expansionist aims? To what extent did Ugolini’s political perspectives relate to other factors, like personal ambition and advancement? The volumes put together by Pessina and Vella allow a balanced perspective on Ugolini and his research, in particular, and a variety of insights into the development of Maltese prehistoric research in general. The Italian Fascist state extended patronage to cultural endeavors, including archaeology, which it felt benefited its policies. Ugolini’s main conclusion, based on studying the architectural and material culture of the Maltese ‘Temple Period’, was that Malta was the birthplace of ‘civilization’. His Ex Medio Lux stood in contrast to the dominant Ex Oriente Lux of the age. The light of civilization developed not in the Aegean or Egypt, but in the central Mediterranean, he argued. The potential political misuse of this notion can be seen in the suggestion that there was an ancient and intimate connections between Malta and Italy, which ought to be restored in the present day, peacefully if possible, forcibly if necessary.

The first volume (2021a) offers an impressive contextualisation of Ugolini’s work, as well as the period and the development of research more generally. Joining contributions by the editors are chapters from Anton Bugeja, Josef M. Briffa, Mario Cappozzo, Henry Frendo, and Oliver J. Gilkes.

The book is divided into six parts. The first part describes the archival material in Rome in detail.

The second part explores Ugolini’s early years, such as his archaeological training and gradually developing political connections (meeting Mussolini several times, for instance).

Part three explores Ugolini’s first major archaeological project, his research in Albania. Like his work on Malta, this has been controversial given the politically charged context.

Part four takes us to Ugolini’s work in Malta. Centrally, Ugolini argued that the Maltese ‘temples’ showed a constellation of features, from the social to the architectural, which showed the attainment of ‘civilization’. The intellectual background to this notion is explored in detail. The critic might point out the rather vague meaning of the term ‘civilization’, as well as Ugolini’s progressivism. While readers of this journal will surely share an appreciation of the Temple Period, the notion of it as a progenitor of European ‘civilization’ is not supported by modern scholarship. Ugolini was therefore arguably mistaken in his major conclusion – but, crucially, he was perhaps no more wrong than other researchers of his generation, and developed a huge amount of data on the way.

Part five dives into the debate on the conclusions of Ugolini, and their implications. The crucial context here is, of course, that Ugolini’s ideas cannot be seen in isolation. They have to be seen in relation to other ideas of the era, such as Strickland’s support for the idea that the megalithic temples of Malta had been built by Phoenicians, and that the British and Maltese had a shared ethnic (Phoenician) origin (2021a, 227-234). By 1933, political tensions came to such a head that the British declared a state of emergency and suspended the constitution. Meanwhile, Ugolini was writing to Italy complaining of the slow return of the proofs for his monograph. Finally, the proofs were corrected, Ugolini’s demands for thicker paper to be used in the book agreed to, and Mussolini himself approved of the proofs! The book did come out in 1934. It is easy to focus on the grand narrative here, but other points should be emphasised, such as Ugolini’s excellent use of photography, as vividly depicted in the many photos shown in this volume.

Finally, part six explores the debate triggered by Ugolini. Reaction to his book was diverse. While it received much acclaim, others thought it “audacious and put together in haste” (2021b, 317). Reaction in Italy was diverse, including negative reviews from those with more extreme fascist views.

Now to turn to the three Malta Antica volumes, assembled by Pessina and Vella (2021b- d) from Ugolini’s documents. These flow from the discovery of archival material at the Museo Nazionale Preistorico Etnografico “Luigi Pigorini” in Rome in the year 2000, consisting of documents, photographs, etc. by Ugolini. These are in Italian, as the language Ugolini was of course writing in. This limits their accessibility for the linguistically challenged, like myself, yet with modern translation technology this does not present a fundamental obstacle. I think Pessina and Vella have struck a very sensible balance by retaining the original language, while adding extensive and useful introductions, footnotes, and figure captions in English. Plus, of course, the numerous figures (359 in volume 2021b alone) speak for themselves.

Malta Antica I (2021b) focuses on the Tarxien temples. This is the largest of the three volumes, and the one in which Ugolini’s work was most complete. Tarxien is both a central site to Maltese prehistoric archaeology in general, but also to Ugolini’s grand vision of regional prehistory. Ugolini describes the temples with precise detail, but also warmth. One cannot imagine someone like Evans talking of the remote age of the temples meaning they have a “charm that can be felt but not translated into words” as Ugolini (p. 11) put it. Over hundreds of pages Ugolini describes both the temples themselves and the numerous finds made within them, with masses of detail that will be crucial to those studying the site in the future.

Malta Antica II (2021c) addresses other major Late Neolithic sites, namely Ġgantija, Ħaġar Qim, Mnajdra, and the Ħal Saflieni Hypogeum. It is once again richly visual. The introduction, with Pessina and Vella joined by Anton Bugeja, effectively weaves Ugolini into the historical context of research in Malta, and highlights how his previously unpublished observations offer considerable interest. Examples highlighted include debates on the sex/gender implied by figurines, and on the classification and character of different spaces and features within the megalithic sites. One gains important insights into Ugolini in these pages, for instance, upon seeing vandalism being done to Ġgantija, he declares (p. 6) “Quanto è ora scomparso! E in quale desolante abbandono è lasciato questo monumento! È inconcepibile che le autorità locali permettano questo scempio!”, (which can approximately be translated as ‘How much has now disappeared! And in what a desolate

abandonment this monument is left! It is inconceivable that the local authorities allow this havoc!’).

Finally, Malta Antica III (2021d) is a shorter volume bringing together material from Ugolini’s work on various other sites (over 30), based on much less complete work than the previous volumes. In the case of Borġ in-Nadur, he gives a description, but in some cases it is just a matter of some photographs of a site that were found in the archives. Notable examples of interest from this volume are firstly, his criticisms of Murray’s work at Borġ in-Nadur (some of which may be reasonable, but one detects that considerable misogyny was also a strong motivating factor!). Secondly, his discussion of the famous small ‘temple model’ found at Ta’ Ħaġrat, and often mentioned for its implications in terms of temple roofing.

To conclude, these volumes are essential reading for those interested in Maltese prehistory. Ugolini emerges as a complex character, about whom many questions remain. For instance, if he had not died so young, would he have signed the Manifesto della Razza of 1938, when Italian fascism took on a much more racist (and Nazi inspired) face? When it comes to the relationship between archaeology and politics, who is to decide what is ‘beyond the pale’? Are Ugolini’s ideas really too politically tainted to be considered reasonable and useful, in contrast to those on the pro-British side like Bradley (1912), who published page after page of what now look like crude racist attacks on the Maltese? What surely emerges from books like these is that people and processes are often contradictory. We therefore, for instance, read of anti-fascist Italian exiles in Malta such as Arnaldo Fabriani who were passionate about Italian culture (2021a, 312). This is surely a history which demands that we avoid oversimplification. These volumes allow us, for the first time, to evaluate Ugolini’s research in a serious manner. Ultimately, Evans (1971) repeated a lot of what Ugolini had already done, but not published, however, many original ideas of Ugolini appear in these pages for the first time.

References

BRADLEY, R.N. 1912. Malta and the Mediterranean Race. London: Murray and Evenden.

EVANS, J.D. 1971. The Prehistoric Antiquities of the Maltese Islands: A Survey. London: Athlone Press.

UGOLINI, L.M. 1934. Malta, origini della civiltà mediterranea. Rome: Libreria dello Stato.

Huw S. GROUCUTT is with the Department of Classics and Archaeology, University of Malta.

Malta Archaeological Review 2022, issue 13, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2022.2
Received: 5 Augist 2022 | Published online: 5 December 2022

The post Review articles and reviews appeared first on The Archaeological Society Malta.

The Maltese Islands in the central Mediterranean are renowned for their prehistoric archaeological record, particularly the megalithic ‘temples’ and associated ceramics and artwork. The temples were built by a society lacking metal technology, who relied on stone and organic materials. Knapped stone tool (lithic) technology, to produce sharp edged tools for tasks like cutting, hide working, and wood shaping offers insights into human behaviour in Malta, as well as into themes of exchange and connectivity. As well as imported chert and obsidian, local chert was widely used to make stone tools in prehistoric Malta. The local chert has generally been described as low-quality, yet relatively little research has been conducted on its distribution, characteristics, and use. In this paper I report a survey of chert sources, identifying a wider distribution of chert outcrops along the west coast of Malta than previously discussed. Some general macroscopic properties are outlined, as well as aspects of variability in the chert sources. Knapping experiments were then conducted on samples of chert collected, allowing clarification of its characteristics. These observations are used to offer some insights into lithic technology in Neolithic and Temple Period Malta, such as the hypothesis that the high frequencies of multidirectional flake production and subsequent ‘scraper retouch’ reflect adaptations to the characteristics of local chert.

Keywords: Malta; stone tools; lithics; knapping; prehistory; chert; technology

Introduction

The Maltese archipelago in the central Mediterranean (Fig. 1) has a justifiably famous archaeological record. As Renfrew put it, “for the prehistorian Malta is one of the most remarkable places on earth” (2004, 10). UNESCO World Heritage Sites such as Tarxien, Ħaġar Qim, Mnajdra, and Ġgantija temples reveal spectacular megalithic architecture, and a wealth of finds such as diverse pottery and various figurines and statues (e.g. Trump 1966, 2002; Evans 1971; Malone et al. 2009a, 2020b; Sagona 2015; Vella Gregory 2016; Bonanno 2017; French et al. 2020, among many others). For thousands of years, until the transition to the Bronze Age around 2000 BC, there is no evidence for the use of metal in Malta, so understanding stone (particularly knapped and ground stone) and organic (wood, bone, shell, etc.) technologies are crucial to elucidating early Maltese societies.

In this paper I investigate Maltese Neolithic and Temple Period stone tool technology in the sense of knapped (flaked) stone, where rocks with particular fracture properties were shaped and struck to produce sharp-edged flakes. Flakes (including elongated forms, called blades) may be modified by further small flaking of the edges (‘retouch’) to produce different sized and shaped tools. The earliest stone tools were made over three million years ago (Harmand et al. 2015), and stone tools provide the overwhelming majority of evidence for human behaviour until the last few thousand years. Stone tool technology illuminates early human society in a variety of ways: from how the raw material was transported; how sharp flakes were produced from cores (nodules of rock) according to culturally-inherited methods; through to how tools were used and abandoned. Understanding how ancient people in Malta were connected to neighbouring societies, how their behaviour changed over time, the nature of their subsistence, how they produced artwork and megalithic architecture, and many other things will all be illuminated by understanding the stone tool technology that people used.

Maltese lithic technology

Stone tools have long been recognised in the Maltese archaeological record (e.g. Ashby et al. 1913; Zammit 1930, 120-121; Trump 1966; Evans 1971). Trump (1966, 29), for instance, commented that at Skorba lithics were abundant, and indeed that several layers produced “more flakes than potsherds”. It is only in recent years that detailed work on Maltese lithic assemblages has begun to be conducted. Studies of Maltese lithic assemblages are reported by Malone and colleagues (2009b, 2020b), from sites such as the Xagħra Circle, Santa Verna, and Taċ-Ċawla, all of which have produced hundreds of stone tools. Vella (2008a, 2008b, 2009, 2011a, 2015, 2016) reports on lithic assemblages from several sites, such as Ta’ Ħaġrat, Tas-Silġ, and Skorba (Vella 2009). While most assemblages are from temples and other seemingly ritual sites, there are also insights from the wider landscape, with, for instance, extensive surface surveys in central Gozo, which identified hundreds of lithics (Grima et al. 2020).

While most analyses have focussed on typological classification, some technological characteristics are clear. In terms of core reduction methods, there is a general focus on flake, rather than blade, production. Vella (2009) for instance emphasises multidirectional flaking, and the “largely expedient and informal” character of Maltese lithic technology (Vella 2011a). Likewise, Vella described the “largely expedient” character of local chert reduction, “with no sign of unidirectional knapping and suggestive of a relatively informal production process” (2016, 10). It is also worth pointing out that this “expedient and improvised character” seems to not only characterise the use of local chert, but also imported chert and obsidian (Moscoloni and Vella 2012). There is, however, sometimes also a blade component to the assemblages (e.g. Trump 1966; Malone et al. 1995, 2009b, 2020b), both on local chert and with other raw materials (Fig. 2). The recent suggestion that there is Levallois technology in the Maltese assemblages (Chatzimpaloglou 2019) seems to be a case of mistaken identity, based on the images provided.

From published reports on Maltese lithic assemblages, a consistent feature is the paucity of cores, the remnant nodules of material from which flakes were removed (e.g. van der Werf 2013). There are a few sites that have produced a moderate number of cores, such as 11 chert cores and two obsidian cores from Taċ-Ċawla, but compared to the 362 chert flakes, that is still not many (Malone et al. 2020b). At Santa Verna, among hundreds of lithics, only a single core was recovered. Likewise, compared to many hundreds of flakes, only a single core, of supposedly imported chert, was found at Ta’ Ħaġrat (Vella 2009). From over three hundred lithics recovered from the University of Malta’s excavations at Tas-Silġ, just three cores were recovered (Vella 2015). This paucity of cores suggests a spatial fragmentation of lithic reduction across the landscape, with cores removed from sites after flaking and/or primary flaking occurring at currently unknown localities and flakes being imported into the known sites. Aspects of spatial variability in the distribution of lithics can be also be observed at an intra-site level (e.g. Vella 2008a). While it therefore appears valid to describe a focus on rather amorphous, multidirectional, flake production, factors such as the paucity of cores which could add further information on core reduction methods, should be noted.

In terms of the retouched component, the central observation has been high levels of ‘scraper’ retouch (e.g. Ashby et al. 1913; Evans 1971; van der Werf 2013). Indeed, scrapers have been described as the “ubiquitous tool of Temple Period Malta” (Malone et al. 2009b, 243) (Fig. 2). Vella (e.g. 2008a, 2008b, 2011b, 2015) offered suggestions on the function of stone tools by looking at the shape of tools and the kind of retouch, with scrapers being for scraping and various other functional types linked to particular morphologies. Vella (2009) highlights some differences between sites in terms of features of the lithic assemblages, the meaning of which is currently unclear, such as Skorba scrapers typically only being retouched on one lateral edge, compared to commonly on two edges at Ta’ Ħaġrat. It should be noted that many recent studies emphasise the complex relationship between lithic form and function (see, for example Odell 2001; Andrefsky 2012; Douze et al. 2020), and so the notion that ‘scrapers’ are for ‘scraping’, for instance, should be seen as a hypothesis to be tested. Function is best clarified by use-wear and residue analyses, rather than overall artefact morphology. When it comes to retouch in general, there is a conceptual ambiguity between retouch to influence the overall shape of a tool, and retouch to specifically shape an edge. The notion of ‘scraper’ retouch could instead be seen as a focus on retouch of a medium steepness. This is a specific technological choice, as opposed to other options such as applying very steep retouch (‘backing’) to blunt an edge. In addition, very occasionally other retouched forms such as apparent arrowheads have been found in Temple Period contexts in the Maltese islands (e.g. Evans 1971, pl. 68). While it is of course possible that some are intrusive, their genuine association with the Temple Period seems likely. These occasional arrowheads and other seemingly more sophisticated forms therefore appear as a somewhat exotic element in the lithic assemblages, just as in terms of core reduction technology the blade component is a minor feature compared to the dominant flake production.

While long distance import of exotic raw material such as obsidian has often been mentioned (e.g. Tykot 2017), it should be emphasised that these normally make up a small proportion of lithic assemblages. In the Neolithic Temple Period, obsidian typically makes up around 10-20% of Maltese lithic assemblages by number (Malone et al. 2020b, 408). It is, however, important to also consider the form in which obsidian occurs; mostly as very small flakes and fragments, perhaps suggesting intense reworking of a limited original supply of material. As noted by Vella, this implies that the import of obsidian was either irregular and/or controlled (2008b, 2016). The import of chert from Sicily, and perhaps mainland Italy, is again often mentioned. As discussed below, however there is often uncertainty about what is, and is not imported as opposed to local chert. A cautionary warning here comes from the discovery that ochre at Maltese sites, long discussed as a supposedly key long-distance import (e.g. Robb 2001), is actually consistent with local sources (Attard Montalto et al. 2012). While it is often unclear how large a proportion of each assemblage is made up of local chert, it is clearly extremely common, and yet little work has been done on describing its sources and characteristics from an archaeological perspective. Evidently local chert is abundant in most Maltese lithic assemblages (e.g. Chatzimpaloglou et al. 2020), yet, as discussed further in the following section, a lack of knowledge on the range of variability of Maltese chert means caution must be exercised in diagnosing other material as not being of local origin.

A final point which can be made in passing is that Maltese Neolithic lithic technology seems very distinct from that in Sicily, where forms such as backed blades, sickle-blades, and arrowheads are common (e.g. Nicoletti 1997). While this may partly reflect pragmatic aspects, such as raw material variation, it might also reflect social differentiation between the islands.

Maltese chert geology and geochemistry

The geology and landscapes of the Maltese islands have been described in detail by many authors (e.g. Felix 1973; Pedley et al. 1976, 1978, 2002; Baldassini and Di Stefano 2016; Gauci and Schembri 2019). In basic terms, the geological structure of the archipelago consists of a succession of marine sedimentary carbonates formed in the Oligocene and Miocene, approximately 30-5 million years ago (Fig. 1). The oldest is the Lower Coralline Limestone, a pale coloured and hard limestone that often forms spectacular coastal cliffs. This is overlain by the Globigerina Limestone. This is subdivided into yellow coloured Lower and Upper beds, and the white Middle Globigerina bed between them, in which chert occurs. Two phosphoritic conglomerate beds occur within the Globigerina Limestone, separating the three formations. This is overlain by the Blue Clay, a soft clay/marl layer. Finally, after a thin ‘Greensand Formation’ known for its abundant fossils, the sequence is topped by the Upper Coralline Limestone, similar in its characteristics to the Lower Coralline Limestone Formation. In summary, the Coralline Limestones represent shallow water conditions, with the Globigerina limestone between them representing deeper water, although with the latter interrupted by shallowing and strong current episodes indicated by the phosphoritic horizons. However, additional complexity comes from two factors. Firstly, tectonic activity has had a considerable impact on the landscapes of the islands, with some very dramatic faulting meaning abrupt changes in geology. Secondly, there is considerable lateral variability in the different beds of rock. This variability concerns both the thickness and subtle characteristics of the formations.

The Middle Globigerina (Kaħla or Turbazz in Maltese [Scerri 2019]), dating to about 16-20 million years ago, is the formation of most interest in the present context, given that it is the chert-bearing formation in the Maltese islands (see Fig. 1) (e.g. Pedley et al. 2002; Bianco 2020). It is a white to grey coloured limestone, rich in planktonic foraminifera. It has long been known that there were chert outcrops in this formation (e.g. Cooke 1893). Further studies added detail about the chert deposits (e.g. Felix 1973). It is interesting to note that in studies such as these, even basic points such as the colour described for the chert are highly varied (such as Zammit 1930; Pedley et al. 1978; Sagona 2015).

Maltese chert has often been described as being low-quality, both in terms of how it can be knapped and how it can be used (e.g. Ashby et al. 1913, 49; Zammit 1930, 121; Malone et al. 1995, 323; Moscoloni and Vella 2012, 65; Sagona 2015, 31; Malone et al. 2009b, 242; Malone et al. 2020b, 406). As far as I am aware though, no real knapping experiments have been conducted on Maltese chert. In contrast to the dominant notion of Maltese chert being low-quality, others have suggested a different perspective. Trump described Maltese chert as “good” (2004, 240), and “only slightly inferior to flint” (2004, 17). To him, this is a key argument against their being early (i.e. pre-Neolithic) humans in Malta, as given the apparently good chert available in the islands, stone tools of any early people would surely have been found. Likewise, Ferguson (1991, 18), argued that the chert was of “satisfactory quality”, with Vella likewise choosing a middle ground, describing Maltese chert as “medium quality” (2011a). In terms of the distribution of chert, Vella (2009, 2011) reports chert as occurring below Qlegħja Hill (just south of Ras ir-Raħeb), in the Fomm ir-Riħ bay, and at Ġnejna. Chatzimpaloglou (2019) suggested that in Malta chert was mostly found around Fomm ir-Riħ (Fig. 1).

The recent work of Chatzimpaloglou (2019, 2020; Chatzimpaloglou et al. 2020a, 2020b) has added valuable geochemical data on Maltese chert. This provides an explanation for the apparently ‘low-quality’ nature of Maltese chert, as these studies showed that the chert contains high levels of soft opal, rather than quartz, the hard, crystalline form of silicone dioxide. Chatzimpaloglou (2019, 2020; Chatzimpaloglou et al., 2020a, 2020b) added further information on Maltese chert sources at Fomm ir-Riħ in Malta and Dwerja in Gozo. Using a variety of analytical techniques, they describe the variability of chert at these localities and from Maltese archaeological sites. This research identified aspects such as high levels of variability in the amount of silicon dioxide the sampled cherts contain, as well as trace element characteristics which the authors use to suggest that some chert samples show a Sicilian origin. Many samples, however, remain of unclear provenance, not matching either known Maltese nor Sicilian sources. Interestingly, Chatzimpaloglou (2019) reported a previously unknown kind of chert from near Dwerja, Gozo, where a fine-grained translucent white chert was identified. This suggests higher levels of variability in local chert characteristics than previously known. Chatzimpaloglou also suggested that small white spots are the “trademark of the Maltese chert” (2019, 209). Key here is that while Maltese chert was certainly widely used to produce stone tools, and is well represented at Maltese archaeological sites, a lack of certainty on the range of variability of Maltese chert makes it currently challenging to say with certainty, which material is local and which is imported.

A final point to make is that the word ‘flint’ is often used in the literature. This is commonly used in certain regions (such as Northwest Europe) and in relation to certain geological contexts (i.e. in chalk). In a Maltese setting, ‘flint’ is sometimes used to describe high-quality imported chert, as opposed to purportedly local chert. Flint is therefore sometimes used as a particular sub-category of the more general category of chert. This division is not considered useful by the present author, and the general term ‘chert’ is used.

Methods

The aims of this study were two-fold: firstly, field survey was conducted to explore the distribution of chert outcrops and evaluate their character; and secondly, knapping experiments were conducted to elucidate the characteristics of Maltese chert.

In terms of distribution, several areas of Malta where the Middle Globigerina Formation is present were visited for pedestrian survey; namely Delimara Point, the Selmun Peninsula, and Qammieh. The key area for focus though was from Fomm ir-Riħ southwards along the west coast, with the furthest point studied at 35.866910 N, 14.357428 E (Fig. 1). South of this point, the Middle Globigerina formation is present, but access is challenging. As an additional component of this study, a locality at the far eastern end of the Marfa ridge in northern Malta was visited. This had been identified in 2018 by Prof. Chris Hunt (Liverpool John Moores University). He had found some possible flakes, but it was unclear if they were lithic artefacts or geofacts (i.e. rocks fractured by natural processes or actions such as ploughing, which can resemble purposeful lithics).

During the survey, where outcrops were identified they were photographed and notes taken. The initial aim was not to systematically identify and report all chert outcrops, but to explore the spatial distribution at a landscape scale and gain insights into the kind of range of variability of these chert outcrops.

To evaluate the characteristics of the chert from an archaeological/lithic technology perspective, pieces of chert were collected for knapping experiments. Tabular chert was collected from Fomm ir-Riħ and just south of Miġra l-Ferħa. Nodular chert was collected from Miġra l-Ferħa. Knapping was done by the author, using hard hammer stones made of coralline limestone or quartzite. The aim of the knapping experiments was firstly to explore the general fracture properties of Maltese chert, such as how easy it is to flake in terms of hardness and predictability, and whether specific features associated with knapping such as bulbs of percussion and eraillure scars formed. Secondly, the ‘Levallois method’ – an approach to stone tool manufacture commonly associated with Neanderthals and early Homo sapiens – was used in the knapping experiments. This is of interest as it relates to the apparent absence of Palaeolithic lithic assemblages in Malta; for instance, have no Levallois-dominated assemblages been found in the Maltese islands because of an absence of Pleistocene humans in the area, or rather because the local chert is not amenable to the methods used by these groups? More widely, Levallois knapping (here using the centripetal preferential method) focusses on producing relatively large flakes, so offers a useful way to evaluate the possibilities of the local chert, such as whether the material is homogenous enough to produce flakes over a large area of the core.

Description of chert sources

Confirming early reports (e.g. Chatzimpaloglou 2019), chert was not identified away from the west coast of Malta, for instance, none was identified in the Middle Globigerina at Delimara, the Selmun Peninsula, and Qammieh. There should be a caveat here that some areas are intensely developed, and access is often challenging in heavily agricultural areas. The major finding in terms of the distribution of chert is that outcrops continue for several kilometres south of the Fomm ir-Riħ/Ras ir- Raħeb area that has been emphasised in recent studies (e.g. Chatzimpaloglou 2019) (Figs 1, 5-9). This wider distribution was hinted at in earlier work (Felix 1973), but not discussed in more recent studies.

In terms of overall landscape characteristics, it is important to emphasize that most of these chert outcrops occur in rdum settings, – on the steeply sloping land that occurs above the Lower Coralline Limestone –, which form cliffs down to the sea level in this part of western Malta (Fig. 3), and below the Upper Coralline Limestone which forms an upper-level escarpment. The rdum, between the Coralline formations, consists of the Globigerina and Blue Clay Formations. The latter often drapes the underlying Globigerina beds, as does scree and boulder material fallen from the Upper Coralline Limestone. An example of this rdum landscape which characterizes the western coast is shown in Fig. 4. Given that chert has a narrow exposure, in the Middle Globigerina Formation, this topography and geological sequence mean that it is often physically challenging to access possible chert sources, and in many cases they are buried. A second factor is that extensive agricultural terracing has transformed the landscape of the area (Fig. 4). Again, given the limited size of chert outcrops, one or two terraces could completely hide a chert source. A point that can be mentioned here, though, is that in my experience wherever chert is to be found in the bedrock, small pieces occur downslope, giving good clues as to what will be found upslope.
There is, however considerable variability in this landscape. In some places (Fig. 3) the Middle Globigerina Limestone occurs as a cliff or very steep terrain, and chert outcrops are located high up in hard-to-access settings. In other places the Globigerina beds are less steep than in rdum or cliff settings (Fig. 7). Some of the prominent chert sources – such as at Fomm ir-Riħ and Wied ir-Rum – occur where faulting and valleys interrupt the steep terrain typical of the west coast. In both cases the chert is relatively accessible. An interesting observation is that at Fomm ir-Riħ a small block of Middle Globigerina containing chert is found directly on the beach (35.9066 N, 14.3415 E) – in one of the few bays offering relatively sheltered conditions for boats on the west coast, and therefore in a highly visible position.

Beyond these general points, some more specific points can be made. Moving south from Ras ir-Raħeb, small paths lead over steep terrain and reveal chert sources continuing to the south. Outcrops were examined at several points, with variable fracturing and other characteristics (Fig. 5). To the south, towards Il-Blata tal-Melħ, the slant of the land means that the chert layers gradually become higher in the cliff face, and therefore hard to access. Some ‘typical’ characteristics can be seen here though. For instance, at 35.900238 N, 14.331159 E where it is possible to, with caution, scramble up the steep slope, nodular chert occurs lower down and tabular chert higher up. This is the predominant pattern seen across the study area. The nodular chert typically occurs as small nodules, while the tabular chert often forms retreating exposures (Fig. 5), with large numbers of broken chert fragments immediately underneath. Towards Il- Blata tal-Melħ, the chert outcrops themselves were not accessed, but could be seen high above in the cliffs, and the ground surface below the cliffs has abundant chert fragments (Fig. 7).

Moving south, chert outcrops were identified between Il-Blata tal-Melħ and Miġra l-Ferħa. At 35.883369 N, 14.338472 E, for instance, the chert shown in Fig. 8 is located, in a less steeply sloping rdum area than along much of this coast. This outcrop shows another form seen in several places, where a chert capping, and perhaps partial silicification of the underlying limestone, leaves ‘tower-like’ formations.

At Miġra l-Ferħa, a track along the southern side of the valley to the east provides excellent exposures of chert. This track has been cleared, but not covered, and so provides a cross section through the Globigerina Formation. Here a thin brown bed of tabular chert is first observed (Fig. 6). This shows that while in general the tabular forms are the upper chert deposits, this is not always the case. Following the track east (around 35.875973 N, 14.343813 E) nodular chert is next encountered, and then tabular chert, including in some large ‘tower-like’ masses. Back towards the coast, continuing south, chert can be observed in multiple places (for example at 35.873596 N, 14.345560 E). Some chert outcrops are profusely broken into angular chunks, which could potentially be mistaken for lithics in some cases, but lack eraillure scars and other such diagnostic features. The nodular chert occurs as both protrusions from rockfaces, and in more shattered forms where boulders have broken away from cliffs. An example of the nodular chert from just south of Miġra l-Ferħa is shown in Fig. 9.

Continuing south, chert was found at several locations between Miġra l-Ferħa and Ras id- Dawwara. For instance, at 35.872481 N, 14.346104 E, chert occurs in an area of terraces. Here a sequence of (from the lowest) tabular to nodular to tabular can again be seen (the nodular bed here is shown in Fig. 6). An important observation here is that within the top of the chert sequence, light brown translucent chert occurs as a thin bed in places (Fig. 10). This is a very fine-grained material, which is a matrix joining small angular chunks of limestone. Translucent chert has not previously been reported from Malta, and this finding joins the recent identification of white translucent chert in Gozo, discussed above. Chert continues to outcrop moving to the south, around the edge of the top of the terraced hill (e.g. at 35.871355 N, 14.353265 E) (Fig. 6).

Continuing south, the coastal escarpment is interrupted by a valley, Wied ir-Rum. Several chert sources are found in this area, and these are easily accessible as they are found in the somewhat flatter terrain in the valley, compared to the sources found in the near-coast rdum settings. Prominent chert outcrops, with lower nodular and upper tabular forms, can be found at coordinates 35.873371 N, 14.354419 E and 35.872256 N, 14.355294 E. In both cases, chert is visible both in the bedrock (Fig. 6) and as nodules on the ground. As well as at the outcrops themselves, chert fragments are found downslope in many places. This included one fragment of translucent fine-grained chert as a matrix holding together angular clasts (Fig. 10), similar to the material from slightly further north described in the previous paragraph.

Continuing south to Ras id-Dawwara, chert outcrops continue (for instance at 35.868274 N, 14.355168 E). Once again, there is darker brown nodular chert beneath lighter coloured tabular chert. In this location, it looks possibly like the chert has been quarried, but it is hard to tell if digging was for some other purpose (terrace formation, stone quarrying, etc.). The furthest chert source visited to the south in this study was 35.866910 N, 14.357428 E. The chert presumably continues beyond this point, but in very steep terrain with a large sea cliff, and further south, around Dingli, ways down to the relevant locations to check for chert are gated shut.

Some general observations can be made on the findings of the survey. The chert is quite varied in its colour and characteristics. While some examples feature the white spots described by Chatzimpaloglou (e.g. 2019) as being characteristic of Maltese chert, not all do. Chert at some outcrops seems to be more fractured than others, but a general point is that even where it occurs in large volumes, the chert is rather fractured, typically into relatively small chunks. The most prominent cherts are the lower brown nodules and the upper grey/brown tabular cherts, but there is added complexity in places, such as there sometimes being a basal tabular layer, and sometimes a translucent light brown capping.

Finally, the locality at the eastern end of Marfa ridge was visited (35.989479 N, 14.374572 E). The site is a flat area just inland from a steep cliff down to the sea, and is characterised by Upper Coralline Limestone. Upon visiting the site, a few possible flakes were found on the surface, but these appear to be geofacts, or accidental flakes from spalling rock in recent wall building. There is a layer of rock which appears to be more fine-grained crystalline than the rest of the Coralline Limestone. This seemed to have formed a very subtle ‘scarp’ which had been recently dug up to build dry stone walls in the immediately adjacent area. It seems that in the process of this, whether digging up the rock or shaping the rocks for the walls, a few ‘flakes’ were accidentally produced. A sample of the rock was collected for analysis.

Knapping experiments

To evaluate the characteristics of the chert from an archaeological/lithic technology perspective, pieces of chert were knapped by the author, using a hard hammer technique. Hammer stones of both local coralline limestone and an imported quartzite pebble were effective at flaking the material.

Two reduction methods were used on the tabular chert. Firstly, a single-platform method to produce somewhat laminar debitage with unidirectional flaking was conducted on chert from Fomm ir-Riħ. This was easy to achieve and shows that relatively elongated flakes can be made with this material. It is also clear that classic indications of knapping, such as ripples, bulbs of percussion, and eraillure scars, are common with this material (Fig. 11).

Secondly, chert from both Fomm ir-Riħ and just south of Miġra l-Ferħa was flaked using the Levallois technique. Figure 12 shows the residual core and both sides of the Levallois flake produced from Fomm ir-Riħ chert. The core was flaked centripetally and the striking platform facetted. The large Levallois flake produced shows that large flakes like this can be produced with this chert. Figure 12 also shows a residual core and three Levallois flakes produced from it, primarily using unidirectional-convergent flaking, using chert from Miġra l-Ferħa. This was again easy to flake, and shows that several Levallois flakes can be produced from a relatively small original core.

As a general point on the tabular chert, it is generally fairly homogenous and easy to flake. However, in some cases there are small internal flaws and fracture planes, and these subsequently interrupt flaking and prevent the production of long flakes. This seems to be more of an issue with some chert outcrops than others, and certainly encourages the knapper towards a more multidirectional approach as long unidirectional removals will often be impeded by the flaws. Often, when struck, a relatively large core will break into several pieces along these flaws and weaknesses. The material is then relatively homogenous, but the split cores are now relatively small, and so a focus on flake production is encouraged.

Next, the nodular chert was knapped. This occurs as relatively small nodules surrounded by a limestone matrix. In some cases, upon flaking the chert separates entirely from the surrounding limestone, while in other cases flakes continue from the chert and into the limestone (Fig. 13). The nodular material is also relatively easy to flake, but there is again an ‘impetus’ to multidirectional flake production from the character of the nodules.

While future studies will more formally examine the functional properties of Maltese chert lithics, it is fitting to make some basic points in passing. The edges of the chert flakes produced are not particularly sharp, and the edges are easily blunted by applying force on them against hard materials. Small flakes can be snapped by hand. The nodular chert feels harder and perhaps sharper than the tabular chert, although this impression needs to be formally tested in future. Compared to raw materials that the author has flaked from areas such as Southwest Asia and Britain, these characteristics of the Maltese chert are striking.

Finally, the Upper Coralline limestone from Marfa ridge was knapped. All the pieces shown in Fig. 14 were from a single block of rock. The cortex is very hard, and forceful blows were required to remove it. Flaking was easier on the more internal parts of the rock, and the material does conchoidally fracture. The nodule was shaped into a Levallois core with centripetal preparation, and a relatively large Levallois flake successfully removed. While not particularly sharp-edged, flakes from this material could seemingly be used for some tasks, and its hardness is interesting. Future studies should evaluate the Coralline Limestone formations for knappable materials.

Discussion and conclusion

While the long-distance transport of raw materials such as obsidian has featured prominently in discussions of Mediterranean prehistory, in areas such as the Maltese islands there remains a lack of certainty about which materials were imported and which were not. Likewise, the implications of imports are unclear, with some authors suggesting that they demonstrate regular contact with areas such as Sicily, yet the available data are also consistent with much more episodic contact (see Groucutt et al. 2022 for further discussion of these themes).

Here it has been demonstrated that chert outcrops occur over a considerable distance of the west coast of Malta, at least five kilometres as the crow flies, more like ten kilometres in reality, and possibly continuing further south. The characteristics of the chert have been described, such as it typically occurring in a very fractured form, such as that even a large outcrop of chert will consist of many small clasts. Along with other recent studies (e.g. Chatzimpaloglou 2019), these findings both describe the dominant trends observed, and highlight aspects of variation such as occasional examples of translucent chert being identified. Evaluating the macroscopic character of chert at the outcrops, and of the knapping characteristics of the material, bring some new perspectives to knowledge on Maltese lithic technology. These new findings suggest that Maltese chert is more varied than traditionally thought, and therefore caution is needed on classifying chert at archaeological sites as local or imported. This perspective extends recent research which have analysed and quantified chert geochemistry at Maltese sites (e.g. Chatzimpaloglou 2019; Chatzimpaloglou et al. 2020). The key point here is that further characterisation of the chert at its sources is required, as is the integration of geochemical/ microscope and macroscopic/fracture mechanics perspectives.

The notion of lithic raw material ‘quality’ is complicated, as ease of manufacture and characteristics in terms of use are not the same thing (see also Groucutt et al. 2017). In terms of the act of flake production, Maltese chert is easy to flake. In some cases, however, flaws within the chert nodules mean initial cores break into smaller chunks, which encourages a more multidirectional kind of flake production. However, as the knapping experiments conducted show, both laminar flakes and Levallois flakes can be produced with Maltese chert. As mentioned above, Trump (2002, 240) argued that the lack of evidence for characteristic early prehistoric artefacts in Malta reflected an absence of early humans. It has been demonstrated here, for the first time, that it is possible to make these artefact forms with Maltese chert, and this can be factored into discussions on the absence of evidence for early stone tools.

Particularly pertinent in terms of the quality of Maltese chert is the character of the edges produced. These are generally not particularly sharp, and blunt very easily. Rather than a cultural preference for typological ‘scrapers’, this may explain the frequent use of ‘scraper’ retouch in Maltese assemblages. By applying semi-steep retouch the edges can be made much stronger than the natural margins produced by flaking. This perspective only becomes clear when knapping experiments are conducted, and technological rather than typological approaches to lithic analysis are emphasised.

In summary, the ‘ad hoc’ character of Maltese chert lithic assemblages may actually represent sensible adaptations to the characteristics of the local raw material. This can be evaluated through future formal experimental work, as can the extent to which chert was imported into the islands by continued geochemical analyses of diverse samples. Previous studies have emphasised the ‘simple’ character of Maltese lithic technology, with an emphasis on ad-hoc flake production and retouched tools dominated by ‘scrapers’. The findings reported here suggest a need to better integrate the character of local chert raw material into analyses of Maltese lithic technology.

Aknowledgements

I thank Freda Scerri for assistance with the survey. I thank Eleanor Scerri, Nick Vella, Reuben Grima, Ian Candy, John Betts, Chris Hunt, and Ritienne Gauci for discussions on Maltese prehistory and geology, and Maxine Anastasi for her careful editorial work.

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Huw S. GROUCUTT is with the Department of Classics and Archaeology, University of Malta.

Malta Archaeological Review 2021, issue 12, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2022.1
Received: 9 August 2021 | Accepted: 25 July 2022 | Published online: 5 December 2022

The post Maltese chert: An archaeological perspective on raw material and lithic technology in the central Mediterranean appeared first on The Archaeological Society Malta.

In 2010 a magnetometer survey was conducted off the north-eastern coast of Malta, concentrating on Mellieħa and Salina bays. The aim was to identify potential target anomalies along the shoreline, with areas of interest marked in both bays. Ground-truthing surveys conducted by divers in Mellieħa Bay in 2011 and 2012 confirmed the presence of scattered cultural remains, and allowed for the re-identification of the so-called ‘Mortar Wreck’ site, first excavated by Honor Frost in 1967. A follow-up magnetometer survey was conducted in 2014 within the context of the University of Malta underwater field school, and consequently resulted in the exclusion of Salina Bay for further survey. The 2014 survey concentrated on Mellieħa bay and sought to further positively identify or reject potential anomalies first documented in the 2010 survey. The 2014 survey results revealed the possibility of substantial target anomalies within the bay.

Keywords: shipwreck; Malta; magnetometer survey; Mellieħa Bay; Salina Bay; St Paul’s Island

Introduction

The application of magnetometers to the prospection of terrestrial archaeological sites can be traced to the 1950s, and its underwater use was first demonstrated in Turkey in 1965 and successfully applied in 1966 (Green 2014, 436). Magnetometers are used to detect variations in the earth’s magnetic field caused by ferrous materials, and over the course of the last half century, have become a prime tool for the detection and mapping of submerged heritage sites (Søreide 2011, 109). Whilst magnetometers are the ideal system for the detection of iron and steel remains, they can detect any ferromagnetic material, including ceramics, and thus, can also be used in the prospection of ancient remains (Green 2004, 62-63). Magnetometers are towed behind a surface vessel, and the intensity of magnetic variations detected will depend on the size, shape, depth of burial and distance to the towed magnetometer system. Thus, the closer the system is towed to the seabed the better (Søreide 2011, 110; Plets et al. 2013, 26). It is not the aim of this paper to delve into the methodology behind the archaeological uses of magnetometers, but rather to present the data gathered off the north-eastern coast of Malta between 2010 and 2014.

In 2010, a magnetometer survey was conducted in and around Mellieħa and Salina bays (Fig. 1). These initial surveys were concentrated along the shorelines of Mellieħa and Salina Bay, with the intent of identifying potential cultural anomalies on the seabed. The surveys were conducted by the University of Malta, in collaboration with the Superintendence of Cultural Heritage and with the support of the Compass Marine Trust.

The 2010 magnetometer survey covered a total area of 1,322,800 m² of seabed, and had the objective of identifying potential shipwreck sites in the shallower coastal waters of the north-east of Malta. Approximately 921,600 m² were covered in Mellieħa, and another 401,200 m² were surveyed in Salina Bay (Figs 2-3). This general survey was conducted using a lane spacing of 10 m and covered bottom depths of up to 11 m. A number of potential areas of interest were identified in both bays, and a drawback of magnetometers is that it is difficult to interpret gathered data without additional diver surveys in shallow waters and remote operated vehicles (ROVs) in deeper waters (Søreide 2011, 110). In 2011, a ground-truthing survey was carried out by divers in Mellieħa Bay, which confirmed the presence of scattered pottery remains, and in 2012, divers revisited these areas of interest in Mellieħa Bay.

Cultural remains have been recovered from the seabed of Mellieħa since the late 1950s. In 1959, the first mention of underwater archaeological discoveries in Malta was made in the Museum Annual Reports of the then Museum’s Department. The report stated that ‘the most important discovery was made in Mellieħa Bay […] the Fleet Clearance Diving Team, called in to dispose of an unexploded bomb, discovered to be a complete amphora of Graeco-Roman type. With it were found a few other fragments including Campanian blackslipped sherds, a lozenge-shaped tile […]. The relics seem to represent the wreck of a ship driven ashore in about the second or first century B.C.’ (MAR 1959-1960, 3). The archaeological legacy of Mellieħa Bay continued in 1964 when a number of mortaria sherds were recovered, providing further evidence for the presence of a shipwreck (Gambin et al 2021, 3). In 1965, an investigation of ‘a Roman shipwreck lying under a mound of dead marine vegetation in the middle of Mellieħa Bay’ (Żammit 1965, 4) was initiated by the Mediterranean Underwater Research Unit. In 1967, Honor Frost set out to survey and investigate the site, and the recovered finds were dated to the third century AD. (Frost 1969, 29). The potential for further investigation was the main driver behind the 2012 diver survey, aimed at relocating the site initially investigated by Frost, and determining whether any significant changes had occurred to the archaeological remains since Frost’s excavation. The diver survey revealed that the site was intact and material remains were still visible. An archaeological field school was subsequently organised by the University of Malta and the Honor Frost Foundation in 2013 and 2014, which included a further magnetometer survey in 2014.

Salina Bay was not included in the 2014 magnetometer survey. The determining factor for its exclusion was the organisation of the archaeological field school in Mellieħa, and the decision to concentrate efforts there. Nevertheless, the data compiled in the 2010 survey also revealed a number of areas of interest in Salina Bay. The legacy of archaeological discoveries in the bay stretches back to the early 1960s, as documented in the Museum Annual Reports for 1959-1965 (Żammit 1595, 3; 1960, 4; 1961, 7; 1964, 7; 1965, 4-5). Objects recovered from an underwater context during this period include possible Roman and Medieval pottery sherds and a Roman corngrinder amongst other things (Żammit 159, 1690 & 1964). The presence and recovery of cultural remains in Salina Bay spurred the organisation of an archaeological investigation, initiated by the University of Malta in 2019. The site of this investigation was, however, not influenced by the 2010 magnetometer results, but is based on a location provided by a diver’s report. The remains uncovered so far span approximately 500 years and include remains from the Roman, Byzantine and Arab periods. Therefore, whilst a repeat magnetometer survey was not conducted in Salina, important archaeological discoveries continue to be made, and plans are also in place to conduct a ground-truthing survey in the areas of interest marked in the 2010 survey of Salina.

A number of exploratory survey areas around St Paul’s Bay were also planned for 2014, however, these were not carried out due to delays caused by equipment malfunction. Later visual surveys of the coastline carried out from a vessel determined that the presence of a number of large fish farms would have severely restricted any survey attempts.

Equipment

The magnetometer that was used for the surveys was a Geometrics Cesium vapor model G882, with depth and altitude sensors included, a 30-metre tow cable and a deck control box with an AC power cable. The condition of the magnetometer hardware allowed only a nose-tow configuration. This limited the ability to carry out surveys as close to the shoreline as preferred, since a significant length of tow cable would have to be let out in this configuration in order to achieve the desired tow fish altitude. Moreover, a low speed needed to be kept, resulting in a lack of coverage in some survey areas.

The computer data acquisition software utilised was Chesapeake Technologies Inc. SonarWizMap version 5.03.0013. The magnetometer acquisition and processing were conducted and operated by geophysical survey specialist Douglas Gossage of the Marine Environmental & Research Services Inc. GPS positioning was provided by a 12VDC WAAS enabled GPS system which was integrated into the data acquisition software. This allowed for geo-referenced data to be collected. The magnetometer was supplied with an AC power cable, resulting in the need to acquire an additional substitute source of power, provided by a 2 KVA generator.

The seabed in both Mellieħa and Salina Bays is characterised by the presence of large Posidonia oceanica mattes that grow over significant sediment deposits. Sub-bottom profiler surveys as well as cores from the ancient port of Burmarrad, located at the head of Salina Bay, confirm the area as a sediment receptacle for the second largest catchment area for freshwater on the Maltese Islands (Marriner et al. 2012). Over the centuries, sediment run-off from the hinterland have infilled the ancient harbour as well as parts of the seabed. Thus, any significant archaeological deposits in these bays would probably be located under layers of Posidonia mattes and sediments. Given that concentrations of ceramics and the presence of ballast heaps can cause distortions of the earth’s magnetic field, a magnetometer survey was considered a viable solution to detect potential archaeological deposits buried in the bays (Papatheodorou et al. 2011).

The 2014 Magnetometer survey

In 2014, a further magnetometer survey was conducted in Mellieħa Bay. This formed part of the field school organised by the University of Malta and supported by the Honor Frost Foundation. The objective behind the revisiting of anomalies identified in Mellieħa Bay was to expand on the 2010 survey data and to investigate and gather evidence for the potential presence of further underwater cultural heritage in several other areas of the bay.

Six locations were chosen for this purpose (Fig. 4). An area of approximately 178,650 m² was covered, with water depths ranging from 1.8 m to 8.5 m. Details of the data from the six locations, including total survey size, number of navigation lanes, total cumulative range and bearing, amongst others, are presented in Table 1. The lane spacing was 10 m and the average survey sensor altitude was between 2 m and 4 m, depending on seabed features inside the bay (Fig. 5). In order to get the tow fish as close to the seabed as possible adjustments were made in the tow speed, favoured over laying out a greater cable length. An identified limitation here was the high volume of recreational surface activity within the bay itself, often extending into the survey area. Feature descriptions for each of the six locations will be presented below.

Cave Cross Mag

In the 2010 survey, the Cave Cross Mag area had five individual lines of magnetometer data that displayed a long anomalous area in the shoreward-most section of this area. The 2014 survey was unable to better define the area of interest, since perpendicular navigation lines were not possible close to shore. The area has not been released as a potential area of interest, but rather requires further investigation.

Hotel Cross Mag 1

This feature area was identified in 2010 as a potential area of interest due to detected magnetic variances near the end of several parallel navigation lines. The presence of magnetic variances at the end of survey lines requires a cautionary optimistic approach to the presence of a true target. However, the 2014 survey provided more evidence in favour of the presence of a true target and valid anomaly area, corroborated through the extension of survey lines over the 2010 area and the continued presence of clear and complete anomalies. The area is spread out and could potentially represent a shipwreck site, warranting further investigation (Fig. 6).

Hotel Cross Mag 2

The 2014 survey of this area did not produce any further data on the potential location of additional anomalies, and was released from further investigation.

This area was initially surveyed in 2010 and the 2014 survey sought to further define and substantiate the anomalies recorded in the area (Fig. 7). The data gathered points towards an isolated compact target when compared to the spread nature of ‘Hotel Cross Mag 1’. The gathered data point towards the presence of an isolated target, rather than an entire wreck site.

Mellieħa Cross Mag 1

The 2014 survey of this area did not produce any further data on the potential location of additional anomalies, and was released from further investigation.

Wall Cross mag

Similar to ‘Mellieħa Cross Mag 1’, the 2014 survey did not reveal any additional information to the area of interest first identified in 2010. This area was also released from further investigation.

Haddow’s Valley site

Haddow’s Valley measures approximately 50 m in length along a north-south orientation. The limits of the Valley are defined by a 4 m Poseidonia matte to the west and a Poseidonia sea grass meadow to the east (Gambin et al 2021, 12).
The archaeological potential of Haddow’s Valley was first realised in Frosts’ 1967 investigation, where excavation in the northern section of the Valley revealed mortaria and amphorae remains, with glass, metal, rosin, and frit uncovered in the southern section (Gambin et al 2021, 4). The mortaria formed the bulk of discovered material, with the site today aptly known as the ‘Mortar Wreck’ and dated to between the first and third centuries AD. The amphorae are dated to the third century AD, providing a consistent date for the wreck site (Gambin et al 2021, 6). The magnetic anomalies detected during the 2010 survey are located within the area investigated by Frost in 1967, forming approximately 2% of the 1967 excavation area. The 2011, a ground-truthing survey was carried out in this area, revealing the presence of scattered ceramic remains. The site was revisited in 2012 and was the focus of the 2013 field school organised by the University of Malta and the Honor Frost Foundation. During the field school Haddow’s Valley formed the centre of investigations and was mapped and subsequently divided into different areas. Following the documentation of the Valley, surface finds were identified, labelled and recovered. Excavation was concentrated in the northern section, owing to the shallow depth of bedrock towards the south of the Valley (Gambin et al 2021, 9). The 2014 field school season concentrated on the exploration and documentation of the areas surrounding Haddow’s Valley. An inspection of the main Valley area revealed the presence of new surface finds, confirming the high-energy nature of the site (Gambin et al 2021, 10). The 2014 magnetometer survey was conducted within the context of this surrounding exploration, and when combined with the data gathered in 2010, two deposits can be identified, possibly related to each other. The anomalies were further divided in order to isolate and individualise each potential target. The 2014 data revealed a second area of isolated anomalies, potentially related to those documented in 2010. A possible interpretation of the data could be that of a shipwreck, or partial wreck and cargo, lying approximately 60 metres apart. A ground-truthing survey was conducted by divers in one of these areas, around anomaly 179 (Fig. 8). Several fist-sized non-indigenous rocks were noted along with what appeared to be a conglomerate of metal and rock. Substantiation of such interpretations can, however, only be confirmed or discarded through further investigation, or excavation.

Mellieħa-St Paul’s Island survey

The 2014 survey represented the first exploratory survey of this area. Navigational charts of the area did not highlight any modern magnetic variances, and Professor Timmy Gambin, a maritime archaeologist, also expressed a lack of knowledge on known areas of interest in the small bay west of St Paul’s Island (Fig. 9). The weather and heavy sea traffic in this area hindered the survey, and may have also impacted the quality of the data gathered. Nevertheless, a more complete magnetometer survey is warranted, if only to determine whether this is a true area of interest or not. Additionally, the data gathered over a large area located on the western end of the survey area, has revealed the presence of a magnetic ridge, 240 m in length (Fig. 10). Whilst this feature may be geological in nature, it is nevertheless a unique feature area when compared to other near shore areas that have been surveyed.

Conclusion

Magnetometers have been an essential tool in marine remote sensing over the course of the last half century. Whilst the use of magnetometers is usually reserved for the prospection of iron and steel remains, it can nonetheless be utilised to discover any other types of ferrous material, such as ceramics. The magnetometer surveys initiated in 2010 off the north-eastern coast of Malta identified a number of target anomalies or areas of interest in Mellieħa and Salina bays. The aim of the 2014 survey was to further define these areas, with the exclusion of Salina and St Paul’s bay.
The 2014 magnetometer survey formed part of the University of Malta underwater field school. The results from this survey revealed the strong possibility of a substantial target in the ‘Hotel Cross Mag 2’ area, as well as a distinctly separate area of interest at the Haddow’s Valley site, approximately 60 metres from the anomalies discovered in 2010. The ground-truthing survey conducted around one of the newly discovered anomalies (number 179) at Haddow’s Valley exposed the presence of non-indigenous rocks and possible metal conglomerate. However, the positive identification of cultural remains would necessitate further excavation. According to the UNESCO Convention on the Protection of the Underwater Cultural Heritage, in situ preservation is the preferred option when it comes to activities directed at underwater cultural heritage. It is only in rare and unique instances that excavation underwater should be conducted. Moreover, access is hindered by the presence of Poseidonia mattes, protected under national (Legal Notice 311, 2006) and European legislation (Evans 2006). The destruction of Poseidonia mattes for archaeological purposes would also require extraordinary circumstances to justify excavation through such an important natural resource. Moreover, the mattes protect any potential archaeology from natural and human-made destruction.
The regular inspection of the surveyed areas is seen as the preferred method of operation, ensuring that the Poseidonia matte, and therefore the potential archaeological deposits, remain intact.

Acknowledgements

The authors would like to thank the Honor Frost Foundation for the support provided throughout the consecutive field schools in 2013 and 2014, along with the Department of Classics and Archaeology at the University of Malta. Further thanks go to AquaVenture Dive School in Mellieħa for providing the diving equipment and storage facilities, as well as to all field school participants and visitors. Without their hard work the fieldwork and compilation of this report would not have been possible.

References

EVANS, D. 2006. The habitats of the European Union Habitats Directive. Biology and Environment: Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 106B (3): 167-73. DOI: 10.3318/BIOE.2006.106.3.167.

FROST, H. 1969. The Mortar Wreck in Mellieħa Bay. London: Apperton Press.

GAMBIN, T., SAID, S., SAUSMEKAT, M., YATES, P. 2021. Revisiting the Mellieħa Bay Wreck: A report on two seasons of survey and excavation (2013-2014). Malta Archaeological Review 12: 1-18. https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2021.3.

GOSSAGE, D. 2014. Malta Marine Magnetometer Survey: Expanding the 2010 Mag Survey. Unpublished report.

GREEN, J. 2004. Maritime Archaeology: A technical Handbook. 2nd ed. Elsevier Academic Press: London.

GREEN, J. 2014. The Application of Aerial Magnetometers in Maritime Archaeology. International Journal of Nautical Archaeology. 43: 436-452.

Legal Notice 311 of 2006 ENVIRONMENT PROTECTION ACT (CAP. 435) DEVELOPMENT PLANNING ACT (CAP. 356). Flora, Fauna and Natural Habitats Protection Regulations, 2006.

MARRINER, N., GAMBIN, T., DJAMALI, M., MORHANGE, C., SPITERI, M. 2012. Geoarchaeology of the Burmarrad ria and early Holocene human impacts in western Malta. Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology 339-341: 52-65.

PAPATHEDODOROU, G., GERAGA, M., CHALARI, A., CHRISTODOULOU, D., IATROU, M., FAKARIS, E., KORDELLA, S., PREVENIOS, M., & FERENTINOS, G. 2011. Remote sensing for underwater archaeology: case studies from Greece and Eastern Mediterranean. Bulletin of the Geological Society of Greece 44: 100-115.

PLETS, R., DIX, J., BATES, R. 2013. Marine Geophysics Data Acquisition, Processing and Interpretation: Guidance Notes. English Heritage. Available at: https://historicengland.org.uk/imagesbooks/publications/marine-geophysics-dataacquisition-processing-interpretation/ (As seen on 10 May 2021).

SØREIDE, F. 2011. Ships from the Depths: Deepwater Archaeology. Texas A&M University Press: College Station.

ŻAMMIT, C. G. 1960. Museum Annual Report 1959-1960. Malta: Government Printing Office.

ŻAMMIT, C. G. 1960. Museum Annual Report 1960. Malta: Government Printing Office.

ŻAMMIT, C. G. 1961. Museum Annual Report 1961. Malta: Government Printing Office.

ŻAMMIT, C. G. 1964. Museum Annual Report 1964. Malta: Government Printing Office.

ŻAMMIT, C. G. 1965. Museum Annual Report 1965. Malta: Government Printing Office.

Timmy GAMBIN is Associate Professor in Maritime Archaeology at the Department of Classics and Archaeology, University of Malta. He graduated in History from this University and went on to attain his Masters in Maritime Archaeology and History from the University of Bristol where he also got his doctorate in MaritimeArchaeology. Prof. Gambin has been involved in numerous collaborative research projects, and has also codirected numerous offshore underwater surveys in various parts of the Mediterranean.

Douglas GOSSAGE has over 28 years of professional involvement in the underwater industries and environment. His career includes over 15 years of marine search and survey operations. He is an experienced dive instructor, underwater still photographer and videographer as well as an expert in sonar and magnetometer search techniques. In the more recent decade, Mr Gossage’s career has included locating numerous shipwrecks, aircraft and other high value targets using all types of sonar equipment. In addition to his expertise with sonar systems, Mr Gossage is also an experienced magnetometer operator. As a survey technician, he has conducted thousands of kilometres of surveys under all types of environmental and seabed characteristics and conditions.

Maja SAUSMEKAT is an archaeologist and a graduate from the University of Malta, having obtained her Bachelor of Arts in archaeology and a Masters in Archaeological Practice from the same university. Ms Sausmekat joined the Heritage Malta Underwater Cultural Heritage Unit as the Underwater Archaeology Coordinator, combining a passion for research with the underwater world.

Malta Archaeological Review 2021, issue 12, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2021.7
Received: 16 February 2021 | Accepted: 9 June 2021 | Published online: 6 October 2021

The post A report on the magnetometer survey results off the north-eastern coast of Malta 2010-2014: Mellieħa Bay, Salina Bay, and St Paul’s Bay appeared first on The Archaeological Society Malta.

Epigraphic and other evidence would seem to underscore the popularity Julia Domna enjoyed amongst the Gozitans as much as she did amongst other communities in the Roman Empire. Her motherhood – both real and metaphorical – did not only play an important role in securing her subjects’ loyalty but was also crucial for the promotion of the imperial family’s dynasty. In this respect, dedications to her and to other members of her family might feature on one and the same monument, as might have been the case concerning one such presumed, partially-surviving monument from Gozo.

Keywords: Julia Domna; Gozo; inscription; Roman; Septimius Severus

Introduction: the wider political background

Epigraphic and other evidence would seem to underscore the popularity Julia Domna enjoyed amongst the Gozitans as much as she did amongst other communities in the Roman Empire. Her motherhood – both real and metaphorical – did not only play an important role in securing her subjects’ loyalty but was also crucial for the promotion of the imperial family’s dynasty. In this respect, dedications to her and to other members of her family might feature on one and the same monument, as might have been the case concerning one such presumed, partially-surviving monument from Gozo.

Julia Domna was the second wife of Lucius Septimius Severus, a native of Lepcis Magna in North Africa and Roman Emperor from AD 193 to 211. She was of Syrian origin, hailing from the city of Emesa (today’s Homs, in western Syria). Her participation in politics was largely defined by her role as wife and mother, real and metaphorical (Langford 2013, 6-7, 16, 69, 71-73; Levick 2007, 139) and this same role of hers would prove to be very useful to her husband in the execution of his dynastic plans and ambitions (Langford 2013, 5-6, 16-20, 36, 69, 71-73, 83, 86).

Standing beside her husband during his military campaigns in the East, the Empress’s presence among the troops must have served as a morale-raiser. Her presence at the scene of military operations earned her the title Mater Castrorum/’Mother of the (army) Camp’, accorded to her by the Senate on 14th April AD 195, and celebrated annually thereafter. In the eyes of the civilian population, Julia Domna’s metaphorical motherhood of the military signified a particularly close relationship between her and the military – the title meant that the troops were under the protection of the Empress and that, in return, they owed her their protection. More generally, the title expressed a mutual relationship between dynasty and army. Julia Domna’s symbolic patronage or maternal concern for the troops certainly contributed towards her husband’s grip on the military. Even from this point of view, the title may have already proved useful for Severus himself. Statues of Julia Domna would have also been placed in the shrines of the military units. This same title that linked Julia Domna by maternal ties of loyalty and affection to the army had already been given to Faustina Junior, wife of Emperor Marcus Aurelius, in a similar situation. Present in her husband’s northern military base, Faustina Junior received the title in AD 174 when multiple incursions coupled with military and political crises made the loyalty of the army all the more important (Langford 2013, 17, 31-33, 37; Levick 2007, 42-43, 56). The same title is also attached to Julia Maesa, Julia Domna’s sister, and maternal grandmother of Emperor Elagabalus (Levick 2007, 150).

But the title may rather have had other implications for Septimius Severus himself, particularly for the realisation and legitimisation of his dynastic scheme. In his attempt to create a link between himself and the Antonine dynasty, the granting to his wife of a title such as that of Mater Castrorum previously awarded to a woman (Faustina Junior) of the Antonine dynasty would surely have further asserted his claim. In a bid to project himself and his reign as the continuation of the Antonine dynasty, he proclaimed himself as the (adopted) son and heir of Emperor Marcus Aurelius, husband of the above- mentioned Faustina Junior whilst, recalling the first of the Antonine Emperors Antoninus Pius (who was also Faustina Junior’s father), he added the title Pius to his own cognomina and imperial titles. In so doing, Septimius Severus was associating himself with the prestigious names of Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius. Accompanied by assimilations of Severan and Antonine portraiture, such moves were also meant to be understood as a means of continuity with a great past (Langford 2013, 17-19, 36, 69, 83, 86; Levick 2007, 38, 43-44).

A reported statue of Julia Domna

In 1743 a discovery of large foundation stones together with a large rectangular water cistern were reported at Ix-Xaqqufija (or Ta’ Xaqqufiet) at Għarb, by the eighteenth-century Gozitan scholar and antiquarian Giovanni Pietro Francesco Agius de Soldanis (Agius (de Soldanis) 1746, f. 54). On the basis of the evident association between the structure (to which the huge foundation stones belonged) and the nearby water cistern, and also on the basis of the respective descriptions provided by Agius de Soldanis, Ix-Xaqqufija (or Ta’ Xaqqufiet) could have been the site of an agricultural estate or a farm complex perhaps datable to Roman times (Azzopardi 2012, 58). From the same place, the same scholar recorded the discovery, in 1748, of a large marble statue of Julia Domna whose head he kept in his own collection (Agius de Soldanis 1750, 26).

As agricultural estates or farm complexes were owned by wealthy individuals who did not only often have a residence attached to the same estates or farm complexes but could also afford to have them adorned with statues, a possible association between this statue and the presumed agricultural estate or farm complex cannot be completely ruled out (Azzopardi 2012, 58-59). Whether agricultural or otherwise, anthropogenic activity there seems to be also suggested by the surface scatter of ceramic fragments implied by the toponym itself – Ix- Xaqqufija/Ta’ Xaqqufiet: ‘the field littered with ceramic fragments’ (Azzopardi 2012, 59).

A monument to Julia Domna?

The documented corpus of Roman inscriptions found in Gozo includes an inscription (CIL X, 7502) marking a dedication to Julia Domna by the Municipium of Gozo (Figs 1-2). The inscription, which has been recorded by several authors, some of whom had seen it physically, refers to Julia Domna by the title of Mater Castrorum, and was engraved on a small pilaster/pedestal (see below), which may have carried a statue of the imperial lady. The inscription and its translation read as follows:

IVLIAE DOMNAE AVG(VSTAE) MATRI C[ASTR]ORVM
IMP(ERATORIS) CAES(ARIS) L(VCII) SEPTIMI SEVERI PERTINACIS
AVG(VSTI) [CON]IVGI MVNICIPIVM GAVL(I) P(ECVNIA) P(VBLICA) D(EDIT) CVRANT[E] DAPSI[LIA]NO

N.B. With the exception of the reconstructed letters, those highlighted in the last line of the above inscription are the only visibly and recognisably remaining letters on the presumably surviving inscribed stone or pilaster/pedestal (see the correspondingly framed part in Fig. 3) and which match the corresponding ones documented in the inscription reproduced above (see also below). The reconstructed cognomen Dapsi[lia]nus (in our inscription it appears in the ablative absolute: Dapsi[lia]no) might actually be a cognomen Dapsilis (see Solin 1970, 42) with an -anus ending, possibly indicating adoption of the person concerned whilst assuming the function of a praenomen for the same person (see Calabi Limentani 1968, 158). Meaning ‘sumptuous’, ‘plentiful’ or ‘abundant’, the epithet/cognomen Dapsilis might imply that the curator in question was a rich man.

Translation:
The Municipium of Gozo offered (this statue/monument) through public donations to Julia Domna Augusta, mother of the (army) camp and wife of the Emperor Caesar Lucius Septimius Severus Pertinax Augustus, when Dapsilianus was curator.

However, the same pilaster or pedestal seems to have carried another inscription on a separate side, as observed by Lupi (1753, (Lettera X), 58; 1785, (II, Lettera X), 120-1; see also Castellus 1769, 29). Lupi had physically seen both inscriptions (as well as other inscriptions) during his visit to Gozo in 1735 (Lupi 1753, (Lettera X), 54-60; 1785, (II, Lettera X), 117-22). The latter inscription that was also seen and recorded by Lupi mentions Julia Domna’s husband, Emperor Septimius Severus (Fig. 4), and their son Caracalla (Fig. 5), but it may have, in fact, been dedicated to their other son Geta (Fig. 6), whose name no longer appears on this last inscription. It may have been deliberately erased in an act of damnatio memoriae following his assassination. The inscription (CIL X, 7503) is also reproduced hereunder along with a translation:

[[IMP(ERATORI) CAES(ARI) P(VBLIO) SEP]TI [MIO GETAE PIO AVGV]S[TO]] IMP(ERATORIS) M(ARCI) AVRELI(I) ANTON[I] NI PII AVG(VSTI) [FRATRI] L(VCII) SEPTI
MI SEVERI PII PERTI NACIS AVG(VSTI) ARAB[ICI] [ADI]ABENICI PARTH[I]
CI MAXIMI [FILIO] ORDO DECVRIONV[M]
CVR[A]NTE [\\\\\] PVP[\\\] [—-]MO [ ]STO

N.B. The reconstruction of the first two lines (of the inscription), which seem to have been erased following the damnatio memoriae of Geta after his murder in AD 211, is as proposed by Mommsen (1883, 775 (7503)) and adopted by Busuttil (1976, 276-77).

Translation:
The Ordo Decurionum (dedicated this monument) to the Emperor Caesar Publius Septimius Geta Pius Augustus, brother of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Pius Augustus, son of Lucius Septimius Severus Pius Pertinax, Augustus, Arabicus Adiabenicus Parthicus Maximus, when was curator.

The pilaster/pedestal with the inscriptions was kept for a while near St George’s Church in Rabat (today’s Victoria) but it was later moved – along with other ancient inscriptions – to the stairway leading up to the Citadel when works on a new access to it were completed in 1622. The pilaster/pedestal in question was placed at the top of the stairway (Abela 1647, 212, 215). This appears to be corroborated by Lupi (1753, (Lettera X), 58; 1785, (II, Lettera X), 121).

At this point, Abela (1647, 215) says that the former inscription (CIL X, 7502) was to be seen on another base/pedestal, seemingly implying that this was a separate base/pedestal from that containing the latter inscription (CIL X, 7503). However, as the latter inscription (CIL X, 7503) does not immediately precede the former (CIL X, 7502) in Abela’s list (in fact, there are two more inscriptions listed between the two inscriptions under review), it sounds more logical that, when speaking of another base/pedestal, Abela could have mentioned this in relation to that base/pedestal on which the immediately preceding inscription, namely CIL X, 7501 (Mommsen 1883, 774 (7501)), was carved. This surviving inscription (CIL X, 7501 marking a dedication to Ceres Julia Augusta) is, in fact, also carved on a statue base/pedestal. This lack of clarity also led Lupi to question whether Abela (1647, 212, 215) and Gualtherius (1625, 52) had observed, as he did, that the two inscriptions (i.e. CIL X, 7502 and 7503) were on two (separate) sides of the same base/pedestal (Lupi 1753, (Lettera X), 58; 1785, (II, Lettera X), 121). Nor did Abela (1647) and Gualtherius (1625) make it clear, as Lupi (1753; 1785) did, that they had physically seen the inscriptions themselves.

As recently as 2017, a few surviving letters from the bottom line of an inscription carved on the face of what could have been a now- mutilated pedestal (Fig. 3) kept in the Gozo Citadel were brought to the attention of the present writer by Mr Daniel Cilia and Mr John Cremona. Following a close examination of these few surviving letters, the present author identified the following lettering: …DAPSI…NO. A search for these letters in the documented Roman inscriptions from Gozo reveals that these same letters were recorded by Gualtherius (1625, 52) and Abela (1647, 215), followed by Muratorius (1739, 249) and Anon (ACM, Misc. 81), f. 169v) and, subsequently, by Agius (de Soldanis) (1746, f. 107), Ciantar (1749, 8; 1772, 580) and Saint-Priest (1791, 56) at the end of an inscription to Julia Domna (see also Bres 1816, 314; Caruana 1882, 148; 1899, 299), and which is the same inscription given above, namely CIL X, 7502. Differing slightly from the above sources, Lupi (1753, (Lettera X), 58; 1785, (II, Lettera X), 120) followed by Castellus (1769, 29), and later, Mommsen (1883, 775 (7502)) and Pirino (2012, 1 (EDR112581)) give …SI …NO, which, nonetheless, also correspond. Perhaps for reasons of lack of space, the above-mentioned authors transfer the last two letters along with the preceding empty space left by missing letters to a separate (final) line.

Further examination of the stone revealed that while its mouldings seem to have originally gone all around it, its opposite side also carried another inscription above the traces of a raised edge that extends around the entire stone. At present, the pilaster/pedestal is positioned against a wall. Therefore it was not possible to view this opposite face. However, with the aid of a mirror inserted in the space between the wall and the pilaster/pedestal, traces of lettering on this side of the stone could be made out, but any attempt to decipher these mutilated letters proved unsuccessful. However, in view of what has been said above, this inscription could easily be CIL X, 7503, which mentions Julia Domna’s husband, Septimius Severus, and their son Caracalla, although it may have been dedicated to their other son Geta.

The surviving mouldings on the stone also seem to suggest that the stone was itself a pedestal or plinth, or possibly an altar. However, if the inscription to Julia Domna (CIL X, 7502) was originally engraved on this plinth as is being hypothesized here, then the latter could be ruled out on account of the inscription to Julia Domna, wherein the imperial lady was not deified. Thus if the stone was indeed a plinth, it may have supported a statue of Julia Domna, while the inscription on the plinth face (i.e. the inscription to Julia Domna) may have recorded the dedication of this statue by the Municipium of Gozo (see reproduced inscription and translation above). As the caduceus (which in the Graeco-Roman world serves to invoke peace) that sometimes forms part of Julia Domna’s iconography is taken as a sign of her status as Mater Castrorum like the sceptre of Faustina Junior (Levick 2007, 135-36), likewise a Mater Castrorum as shown above, it is not at all unlikely that any statue possibly borne by the presumed pedestal could have carried any of these symbols.

The monument was evidently set up as an official initiative by the Municipium of Gozo originally to honour or pay tribute to Julia Domna, either as a sign of loyalty, gratitude for favours received, or to court favour in expectation of benefits. What is sure is that the Gozo Municipium was willing to spend money to this end. Such dedications by loyal subjects were commonplace throughout the empire (see Langford 2013, 11; Levick 2007, 137-39, 141). The monument could have been erected as a form of response to imperial propaganda among the Gozitan population (Langford 2013, 10). The tribute paid to her, however, could have also been extended to other members of her family. Such extended tribute could have led to the later inclusion of a second inscription on the opposite side of the pedestal. As Julia Domna always travelled with her husband and sons, dedications frequently encompass the entire imperial family (Levick 2007, 137), and it is certainly possible that it was the same in this local case.

Further to the above, the naming of Julia Domna as Mater Castrorum in our inscription cannot necessarily be taken as an indirect reference to a military presence on the island. Contrary to what one might expect, Julia Domna was rarely honoured as Mater Castrorum by military populations (or in military inscriptions). Nor was she presented to them with this title (Langford 2013, 11, 17-18, 23-24, 36-37).

Whenever the title was used in a military context, this was generally done for purposes other than those to express a parental or loyal relationship between dynasty and army (Langford 2013, 24). It was generally used addressing civilian audiences that the title was meant to give an impression of a close relationship between the imperial family and the military. To a civilian population (like that in Gozo), use of the title with this propagandistic connotation must have been a comforting statement that guaranteed continuity and stability and, therefore, garnered civilian support for the emperor and his dynastic ambitions (Langford 2013, 36-37, 47). Furthermore, honouring the entire imperial family through both inscriptions (i.e. CIL X, 7502 and 7503) on the same pedestal might have reflected a local (Gozitan) response to the emphasis of imperial propaganda on the promotion of the dynasty as a whole (as in Langford 2013, 45).

On the basis of internal evidence, the inscription to Julia Domna (CIL X, 7502) is being dated to AD 195 which could, thus, have been the year when the dedication to her took place and the presumed monument was set up. The suggested year also coincides with a period when her husband Septimius Severus most needed support from civilian populations (Langford 2013, 37-38). Julia Domna received the title Mater Castrorum as it appears in this inscription, on 14th April AD 195 (Bivona 1970, 33 and above). In the same year, Septimius Severus assumed the titles Pius and Adiabenicus (Calabi Limentani 1968, 471), which, however, do not appear in this inscription. Therefore, the inscription must have been made sometime during the year AD 195, after the 14th April, but before Septimius Severus received these new titles. The other inscription (CIL X, 7503) presumed to have been on the other side of the stone is dated to AD 211. This is based on the fact that in this inscription the name Lucius Septimius Severus is not preceded by the titles imperator and Caesar, whilst the name of Septimius’s elder son Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (Caracalla) precedes that of his father (Septimius Severus). It therefore suggests that the inscription was not made before the death of Septimius Severus on 4th February AD 211. On the other hand, as Geta was murdered by his elder brother Caracalla on 26th December of that same year, then it appears that the inscription was made in AD 211 (Busuttil 1976, 276-77). Bonanno proposes the same year (1981, 506). This may suggest that the last inscription may have been added slightly later than the previous one, but before the inscribed name of Geta was erased from it following his murder. It is suggested here that the later addition of this inscription (CIL X, 7503) on another side of the same monument was meant to accommodate an evolution of imperial propaganda or to address changing demands of the imperial family (as in Langford 2013, 78). In any case, since both inscriptions are related to the same family, they could easily have been placed together on the same monument. It is unclear whether the heavy mutilations evident on the stone at present were deliberate as a result of some form of iconoclasm, or simply, a result of neglect along the passage of time.

Finally, it should be stressed that a statue of Julia Domna which could have stood on this pedestal likely had nothing to do with the one reportedly discovered at Ix-Xaqqufija (or Ta’ Xaqqufiet) at Għarb in 1748. The inscribed pedestal from Rabat (Victoria) was already known in the 17th century when its inscriptions were first recorded, but no statues are ever mentioned in association with it or, at least, in its close proximity. On the other hand, the statue from Ix-Xaqqufija/Ta’ Xaqqufiet was discovered more than a century later in a place considerably distant from Rabat/Victoria.

References

ANON. n.d. Insc(r)izioni di Malta e Gozo. Archivum Cathedrale Melitense [ACM] (Mdina, Malta): Misc. 81.

AGIUS (DE SOLDANIS), G.P.F. 1746. Il Gozo Antico-moderno e Sacro-profano I. National Library of Malta [NLM] (Valletta, Malta): Libr. Ms. 145.

ABELA, G.F. 1647. Della Descrittione di Malta (Facsimile edition, 1984. Malta: Midsea Books Ltd).

AGIUS DE SOLDANIS, G.P.F. 1750. Della Lingua Punica presentemente usata da Maltesi (Facsimile edition, 2007. Malta: Joe Zammit Ciantar).

AZZOPARDI, G. 2012. Antiquarian and Connoisseur. Putting Gozo’s Archaeological Legacy in the Limelight, in G. VELLA & O. VELLA (eds) De Soldanis: An eighteenth century Intellectual: 55-73. Malta: Heritage Malta and Ministry for Gozo.

BIVONA, L. 1970. Iscrizioni Latine Lapidarie del Museo di Palermo. ΣIKEΛIKA, V. Palermo: Centro Siciliano di Studi Storico-Archeologici “Biagio Pace”.

BONANNO, A. 1981. Malta in the Third Century, in A. KING & M. HENIG (eds) The Roman West in the Third Century. BAR International Series, 109: 505-13. Oxford: BAR.

BRES, O. 1816. Malta Antica Illustrata co’ Monumenti, e coll’ Istoria (Facsimile edition, 1985. Malta: Midsea Books Ltd).

BUSUTTIL, J. 1976. The Geta Inscription, Journal of the Faculty of Arts VI (3): 273-77.

CALABI LIMENTANI, I. 1968. Epigrafia Latina. Milano- Varese: Istituto Editoriale Cisalpino.

CARUANA, A.A. 1882. Report on the Phoenician and Roman antiquities in the group of the islands of Malta. Malta: Government Printing Office.

CARUANA, A.A. 1899. Frammento Critico della Storia Fenicio- Cartaginese, Greco-Romana e Bisantina, Musulmana e Normanno-Aragonese delle Isole di Malta. Malta: Tipografia Industriale di Giov: Muscat.

CASTELLUS, G.L. (Principe di Torremuzza). 1769. Siciliae et Objacentium Insularum Veterum Inscriptionum. Palermo.

CIANTAR, J.A. 1749. De Antiqua Inscriptione. Malta.

CIANTAR, G.A. 1772. Malta Illustrata II, 6. Malta.

GUALTHERIUS, G. 1625. Siciliae Obiacentium Insularum et Bruttiorum Antiquae Tabulae cum Animadversionibus. Messina.

LANGFORD, J. 2013. Maternal Megalomania. Julia Domna and the Imperial Politics of Motherhood. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press.

LEVICK, B. 2007. Julia Domna, Syrian Empress. London and New York: Routledge.

LUPI, A.M. 1753. Dissertazioni e Lettere Filologiche Antiquarie. Arezzo.

LUPI, A.M. 1785. Dissertazioni, Lettere ed altre Operette II. Faenza.

MOMMSEN, T. (ed.) 1883. Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum [CIL] X. Berlin: G. Reimerus.

MURATORIUS, L.A. (Muratori). 1739. Novus Thesaurus Veterum Inscriptionum I. Milan.

PIRINO, E. (ed.) 2012. Epigraphic Database Roma [EDR]: www.edr-edr.it: sub Gaulus insula.

SAINT-PRIEST, F.E. de. 1791. Malte. Par un voyageur françois. Paris.

SOLIN, H. 1970. L’interpretazione delle iscrizioni parietali. Note e discussioni. Epigrafia e Antichità, 2. Faenza: Fratelli Lega.

George AZZOPARDI started his studies in archaeology at the University of Malta where he graduated BA (Hons) and MA. Since then, he has nearly always been employed in the heritage sector. He graduated PhD from Durham University (UK) with research on religious landscapes and identities of the Maltese Islands in a Mediterranean island setting from the Phoenician to late Roman times. He presented papers and posters at international conferences and workshops in UK, Germany, and Spain and published monographs and papers on themes related to Maltese archaeology.

Malta Archaeological Review 2021, issue 12, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2021.5
Received: 2 February 2020 | Published online: 25 January 2021

The post Julia Domna, her maternal ideology and the Municipium of Gozo appeared first on The Archaeological Society Malta.

This report focuses on the Mellieħa Bay wreck, a third-century Roman shipwreck first investigated by Honor Frost in the late 1960s. In 2013 and 2014 field schools organised by the University of Malta with the support of the Honor Frost Foundation sought to uncover what remained of the wreck, including any material culture still present. It also sought to investigate the site formation processes. A magnetometer survey revealed the location of a number of target anomalies. It could be determined that the wreck area is highly dynamic, with the scattered nature of the finds reflecting a high-energy zone, which periodically exposed the objects on the seabed. Between 2013 and 2014 it was noted that material remains were re-deposited in the wreck area over the winter months. The growth of Poseidonia oceanica eventually stabilised the site, and the location of recovered finds at the bottom of Poseidonia mattes points towards the high potential of material evidence still located within or under the mattes, as revealed in the magnetometer survey. The recovered material culture points towards a culturally homogenous site with all objects dating to the third century AD.

Keywords: Malta and Gozo; underwater archaeology; Roman; mortar; Mellieħa Bay

Introduction

The Mellieħa Bay wreck is a third-century AD Roman shipwreck located in a bay on the northern coast of the island of Malta (Fig. 1). Recent excavations of the site were carried in 2013 and 2014 as part of 2 three-week underwater field schools, organised by the Department of Classics and Archaeology at the University of Malta. Both seasons were supported by the Honor Frost Foundation, whose mission is to ‘promote the advancement and research, including publication of marine and maritime archaeology with particular focus on the eastern Mediterranean’ (The Foundation, 2020). The site of Mellieħa Bay was originally selected due to its archaeological potential, based on the preliminary investigations conducted by Honor Frost in the late 1960s. The objective of this report is to present the results of the recent investigations of the Mellieħa Bay wreck, viewed within the context of Frost’s 1967 excavation and survey of the site.

The wreck site

The wreck is located in shallow waters towards the middle of the bay, situated to the south-west of a reef. The site lies approximately 700 m from the shore, at a maximum depth of 14 m (Fig. 2). It is surrounded by large meadows of Poseidonia oceanica. This sea-grass is highly protected and grows on bedrock, sand or on mattes. From a maritime perspective, Mellieħa Bay would have been an ideal landing place, offering good anchorage during unfavourable offshore winds to vessels. However, the reef would have posed a threat to any vessel wanting to anchor closer to shore. The bathymetry of the seabed is constantly changing, as attested by the large meadows of Poseidonia oceanica within the bay. Poseidonia mattes consist of layers composed mainly of dead Poseidonia leaves and rhizome deposits of dead sea-grass. On average Poseidonia mattes increase in height by about 1cm per annum (Frost 1969, 31). The current mattes are about 4 m in height, making these approximately 400 years old. During the prevailing winter gales that blow from the north- east, the entire bay is subject to large waves that accumulate offshore and break within the shallow waters of the bay, which in turn create a high-energy zone. It is not yet known whether the bay functioned as a harbour for trade and exchange of goods, nor as an access point to the locals who lived in the village of Mellieħa during ancient and medieval times. However, the presence of salt pans at the southern head of Mellieħa Bay in the Middle Ages (Ganado and Agius-Vadalà 1994, Vol.II, 93 and 150), does point to a degree of interaction between the operators of this complex task and seagoing vessels.

Aims and objectives

The aim of the report is to present the findings of the 2013 and 2014 fieldwork seasons, conducted by the University of Malta, with the support of the Honor Frost Foundation. The findings of the two seasons of fieldwork are presented within the context of Frost’s initial investigation of the site in 1967 and publication of results in 1969. The main aim was to re- investigate the wreck area excavated and surveyed by Frost, along with a number of other areas. The site formation processes constitute an important part of the aims and objectives, allowing for an insight into how a high-energy zone impacts the depositional and post- depositional processes of a wreck site.

Site location

The Mellieħa Bay wreck site is located within the bay of Mellieħa, found along the northern coast of the Maltese Islands (Fig. 1). The bay has its entrances oriented towards the north-east, and the natural landscape around the bay varies from north to south. The northern part of the bay is surrounded by low cliffs and loose boulders, with a number of natural inlets. Towards the south, the landscape consists of steep slopes divided by valleys, and the head of the bay comprises a large sandy beach, roughly 860 m in length. A reef, consisting of rocks and Poseidonia oceanica sea-grass, lies in the middle of the bay, and the scatter of archaeological material is located within the reef (Fig. 3).

Historical setting

To the south of the bay lies the village of Mellieħa. Medieval texts describe this town, dating to the fifteenth century, as a district with its own militia watch post (Wettinger 2000, 371). The name of the town means salt-pans or the salt maker (Wettinger 2000, 372). In all likelihood, this toponym refers to the medieval salt pans that were present at the head of the bay in the area that is currently a protected nature reserve. One particular structure that dominates Mellieħa Bay is the so-called Red Tower, or St Agatha’s Tower. This was built in 1647, during the reign of Grand Master Lascaris. It was a fortified coastal tower, equipped with supplies and ammunition. Its location, on Marfa Ridge, made it possible to monitor Mellieħa Bay along with views of Comino and Gozo (National Inventory of the Cultural Property of the Maltese Islands (NICPMI) 00033). Mellieħa Bay was a popular landing place for corsairs, who were intent on raiding the island and therefore a look-out post was essential. Two other structures built during the Knights’ period are the coastal entrenchment and coastal battery. The former, also known as Ta’ Qassisu, was begun in 1761 and was intended to form part of an ambitious stretch of coastal defences spanning all the way around the shores of Mellieħa Bay (NICPMI 1395). The coastal battery, also known as ir-Rasus, Westreme Battery or Mellieħa Right Battery, is one of the coastal works of fortification erected by the Knights in 1715/16. This structure functioned as a military gun post (NICPMI 1396). The above architectural heritage confirms the importance of protecting Mellieħa Bay from any unwanted raids. Although evidence points to such raids occurring during the time of the Knights of St John, it is reasonable to assume that similar events occurred in earlier times.

Previous Work

The presence of archaeological artefacts from Mellieħa Bay had been reported since 1959 (Frost 1969, 1). However, the presence of a wreck was only established in 1964 when a number of mortaria sherds were lifted by S.A/C John Haddow (R.A.F). This type of vessel was made between the first and third century AD and was commonly found in southern Italy (Frost 1969, 1). Preliminary investigations were carried out by Honor Frost in 1967, with the two-week campaign aimed at:

• Placing the site on the marine chart;
• Marking and surveying the wreck area, and
• Conducting soundings.

The results of the investigation by Frost are as follows: the area was fully mapped and surveyed, surface objects were collected and registered, and soundings were carried out in small pockets within the rocks. Objects retrieved included domestic pottery, amphorae, mortaria, glass, frit and metal objects (Fig. 4). The wreck area was extensive as defined by the distribution of the artefacts. Mortaria constituted the bulk of the cargo, together with a variety of amphorae types as a secondary cargo (Frost 1969, 2). Glass finds have been dated to the turn of the second and third centuries AD, which corresponds to the other datable finds on site (Frost 1969, 13). From the objects retrieved it is apparent that the site consists of a Roman shipwreck datable to the third century AD. Frost remarks that ‘the major part of the wreck still lies beneath the dunes of dead weed; part of the hull may be preserved in the area of deep sand’ (Frost 1969, 30). This concluding statement pointed to the potential for future investigations, which led to the re-exploration of the site in 2010 by the University of Malta.

Previous finds

In 1965 the Mediterranean Underwater Research Unit began the ‘preliminary investigation of a Roman shipwreck lying under a mound of dead marine vegetation in the middle of Mellieħa Bay’ (MAR 1965, 4). The finds consisted of ‘several pottery basins with wide horizontal rims featuring a dovetail notch pointing outwards; Dr Hayes dates these mortaria between the first and third centuries A.D., and puts their origin in the western Mediterranean’ (MAR 1965, 5).

The 1967 investigation carried out by Frost resulted in a ‘considerable body of information and material evidence being obtained from the site’ (MAR 1967, 8). Three soundings were conducted after surface finds were collected and appropriately labelled. Two soundings were located in the north of Haddow’s Valley and revealed mortaria and amphorae remains. The third sounding was located in the protected southern end of the Valley, with finds contained within small pockets (Frost 1969, 8). The majority of finds were contained within these pockets and included glass, metal, rosin and frit. The glass finds included fragments belonging to no less than 12 vessels, aggregates of brown glass and pellets of Egyptian blue frit. Further analysis revealed a homogenous group of glass that was characterised by a fine and well- preserved fabric, a colourless appearance and an antimony content that matched glass samples from Italy and the Rhine region (Frost 1969, 11- 12). The brown glass aggregates seem to have been transported for manufacture, and the pellets of Egyptian blue frit could have originated from the south of Italy, as attested by a number of other wrecks in the Mediterranean (Frost 1969, 13) (Fig. 5).

A number of ceramic objects was recovered that can be considered as not having formed part of the cargo of the vessel. These objects can either be personal possessions or tableware and revolve around cooking pots, bowls, lids, jars and an unguentarium. The latter object is considered as having an Italian origin by Frost and the vast majority of the other ceramic objects are identified as having a North African origin, dated by Hayes to the early third century AD. The distinct lack of rosin on the larger ceramic sherds points towards onboard use rather than cargo (Frost 1969, 15) (Fig. 6). The recovered mortaria formed the bulk of the cargo and were identified as a type that is common in the south of Italy and are dated to between the first and third centuries AD. A southern Italian origin was further verified through the presence of crushed glass in the fabric of the mortaria, however, this might also point towards a Syrian production (Frost 1969, 19-20).

The bulk of the cargo was formed of mortaria, and the amphorae seem to have formed a secondary cargo. A notable characteristic of the majority of the sherds is the presence of rosin adhering to the amphorae in aggregates, predominantly in the base (Fig. 7). This points towards the rosin being the amphorae’s contents rather than lining (Frost 1969, 22). A similar scenario is presented in a marble block wreck, Marzamemi I, located off the coast of Sicily. Kapitän argues that the relatively low number of amphorae, in comparison to marble blocks, points towards a secondary cargo. Aggregates of rosin were also found in the amphorae bases, which Kapitän suggests are the remains of wine, rather than the lining of the amphora (Kapitän 1961, 298). A significant number of amphorae from the Mellieħa wreck were identified as belonging to the Kapitän 1 type by Parker (Parker 1992, 274). These amphorae are characterised by a slightly everted rim, long neck and long tapered body. The handles attach from just below the rim to the shoulder, with the body ending in a hollow spiked base. The amphorae are dated to the third century AD and are postulated to have originated in the eastern Mediterranean (Kapitän 1961, 294; Williams 2014).

A number of other finds have been recovered from Mellieħa bay, including the 1960 recovery of a stamped amphora and black-slipped pottery, which could potentially belong to another wreck (Parker 1992, 294). Nevertheless, the material recovered from the 1967 excavation by Frost is consistently dated to the third century AD.

Re-exploration of the wreck site

Under the direction of the Department of Classics and Archaeology, University of Malta, a series of remote sensing surveys was carried out between 2010 and 2012 in an attempt to gather more information about the site. Three data acquisition techniques were applied in the course of these surveys, including: side-scan sonar; magnetometer; and sub-bottom profiler.

The results from the above three surveys point to a number of anomalies and targets located in the area studied by Frost in 1967 (Fig. 8). In 2012, an underwater survey carried out by a team of divers from the University of Malta was conducted at the Mellieħa site. The purpose of this survey was primarily to relocate the site; secondly to map and survey Haddow’s Valley, so named by Frost’s team ‘because it was the area Haddow had originally shown’ Frost in 1965 (Frost 1969: 2); and thirdly to establish whether the area had undergone any changes. It transpired that Haddow’s Valley was more or less intact and that cultural material was still present in the area of study. As the site was found to be substantially intact with potential for further documentation, it was decided to carry out investigations starting in 2013.

Methodology

The field school in 2013 ran over a three-week period from 3 June to 22 June, whereas the one in 2014 started on 9 June and ended on 27 June. Works were being carried out from Monday to Saturday during the 2013 season, however, the following year it was decided not to carry out diving operations on Saturdays due to the intensity of maritime traffic in the bay.

Aims and objectives

The primary purpose of the 2013-2014 field schools was educational. Students reading for a MA degree at the University of Malta participated in the project, and were introduced to the different aspects that an underwater excavation entails, including logistic preparation, organisation and day-to-day activities that are required on site. The secondary purpose was the investigation into a number of research questions that would generate results that contribute not only to the knowledge of this particular site, but also to the wider field of maritime archaeology in Malta. The specific objectives were:

• To establish the extent of the Mellieħa Bay wreck and what percentage of it is still intact;
• To determine whether any material culture was still present in the area of study;
• To attempt to identify targets and anomaliesresulting from the remote sensing surveys, and,
• To determine the effect of high-energy wave action on the site.

Over the course of the two field seasons a number of exercises were conducted in order to achieve these objectives. These included:

1. The creation of an up-to-date plan of the area under study;
2. The labelling and photography of surface finds;
3. The plotting of surface finds onto a map;
4. The collection of loose finds to provide information on site formation processes, and query to what extent high-energy wave action affects artefact deposition;
5. The investigation and excavation of sandy bottom and unexplored adjacent areas, in order to determine the presence of cultural material;
6. To confirm magnetometer anomalies in the area of study.

Coordinate system and positioning

All positional data was acquired using a handheld Garmin GPSMAP 60CS global positioning system. Positions are stated in Easting and Northing, based on the Universal Transverse Mercator coordinate system (UTM) using the World Geodetic System 1984 (WGS 84) ellipsoid. The Military Grid Reference System (MGRS) was also used when plotting the points, as this applies 1km squares and thus simplifies plotting.

Organisation of the 2013 and 2014 Seasons

During both seasons, daily planning was generally undertaken by the project director, Professor Timmy Gambin, and site supervisors Tony Burgess, Elaine Azzopardi and Stephanie Said. This was supplemented with feedback from all the other participants. Briefings included planning the dives, organising surface support and listing the miscellaneous tasks that needed to be completed each day. The dive teams would consist of either a pair of divers or three divers, depending on the task being undertaken. A standby safety diver would always be suited up in the case of an emergency. Whilst the teams were underwater, the other participants would either be operating the boat, managing the pump or conducting post-excavation works. Divers were rotated and the different teams undertook a handover from the previous divers. The first divers were generally deployed at 09:30 and the rotations continued until 15:00. Diver observation forms and project notebooks were filled in by each diver and any data gathered in the site diary.

Equipment

One boat served as a diving platform, transporting the divers to the site and back, and was anchored on site on a single point mooring for the duration of the project. A raft, consisting of a frame that was made buoyant by plastic tanks, was constructed from aluminium pipes, and was used as a base for the pump operations and the standby diver. The raft was secured above the site throughout the three-week period, using a three-point mooring system. A custom- made water dredger was driven by a small Honda water pump, facilitating sediment removal. The pump was fixed onto the raft, to ensure that it did not move with any vibrations or waves. The hose was made long enough to reach the required depths without interfering with ongoing works.

Recording, excavation and positioning

The primary methodologies used during the fieldwork were preliminary mapping, conducting searches and surveys leading to excavation of various areas of the site. During the 2013 season Haddow’s Valley was mapped, with metal stakes fixed into the ground at the boundaries of the Valley (refer to Fig.10). These were labelled from A to D running in a north-south direction and baselines were fixed from points A to B, from B to C and from C to D, allowing for the division of the Valley into different areas. Measurements were taken using offset baselines and recorded on Permatrace (Fig. 9). Due to the large distances, a scale of 1:2 m was utilised. Simultaneously a description of the bathymetry was taken, along with heights of the Poseidonia mattes. The finished site plan was scanned and digitised in Inkscape, a free and open-source vector editor (Fig. 10).

Following this, all surface finds found within the Valley were labelled according to which area they fell under, making it easier to identify their location. Their position was taken by means of offsets from the baselines. These measurements were then recorded in the site notebook and plotted onto the map, which was continuously updated. Once the information for the artefacts was gathered, each labelled item was bagged and lifted. Two new points were added to the site, points E and F, lying to the west and east of the Valley respectively (Fig. 11). These two markers were placed in order to further extend the planning of the site. To the west, towards point E, a number of depressions were uncovered, which were filled with dead Poseidonia sea-grass, whilst to the east a semi-circular shaped feature was located and named the ‘Crescent’ area. This latter area was found to contain a substantial amount of ceramic remains. The same procedure as that practised in Haddow’s Valley was followed for the documentation and recovery of artefacts found within these two areas.

Excavation works on trial areas were carried out using a water dredge. The bedrock in the southern part of Haddow’s Valley is close to the sandy surface, making it highly unlikely that any archaeological deposits were present. It was therefore decided to excavate in the northern part where the sand layer was significantly thicker. Material was removed from one area and the debris was deposited away from the site. Loose Poseidonia was removed from the surface, followed by the removal of sand down to rock surface. Areas earmarked for excavation were delineated by a 2 m by 2 m rigid grid and each quadrant was given a label and excavated separately. A total of six such areas were excavated covering an area of 90 m². Hole 1, found due west of Haddow’s Valley, was also excavated using one grid. One other grid was placed between point C and D, beneath the Poseidonia matte (Fig. 11).

During the 2014 season the primary focus was to map and explore the areas surrounding Haddow’s Valley. A new area, previously unmapped, named as the ‘Figure of Eight’ was identified, mapped and integrated into the generic map of the archaeological area (Fig. 12, points 1A-C), located just north of Haddow’s Valley. Results from these excavated areas are described below. Swim searches were conducted in the ‘Figure of Eight’ area, and two sondages were excavated within 2 m by 2 m grids that were laid out in the western part of the area. Both squares were excavated to bedrock, which at its maximum extent measured just over 1.5 m below the seabed. No archaeological deposits were discovered in this area. Another previously unmapped area, identified as ‘Lake Bed’, lies south of Haddow’s Valley (Fig. 12, points 2A-B). This area contained a small concentration of ceramic objects mainly consisting of fragments of mortaria (Fig. 13). A third area located due west of Haddow’s Valley was named ‘Snake Pit’ and recorded (Fig. 10, points 3A-B), however, no finds were recorded within the area. The area of Haddow’s Valley, located in the 2013 field school, was revisited for inspection in 2014. The area had already been mapped and all visible objects had been lifted during the previous year’s excavation. However, during the re-inspection dives, new objects were visible within the valley. This implies that the site is situated in a high- energy zone, with winter storms dislodging objects from within the Poseidonia mattes and depositing these within Haddow’s Valley. Markers from the previous year’s excavations were located and the finds were mapped in situ, labelled and collected.

A series of magnetometer surveys was carried out in various areas of the site, and a total of 11 survey lines were taken in the outer eastern extent of Mellieħa Bay. Survey lines were also taken towards the western side of the bay and closer towards the swimming zone of the existing hotel. These lines were approximately 100 m in length. A series of swim searches was conducted in areas close to where preliminary results from the 2014 magnetometer survey had suggested possible anomalies. One particular area of interest was noted and marked however, these targets are situated under deep Poseidonia mattes and this did not allow for further investigation, suggesting potential further research and excavation.

Results: 2013 season

The areas explored during the 2013 season were already investigated by Frost and consisted of Haddow’s Valley and smaller exposed areas, referred to as ‘Crescent’ and Holes 1-5, lying to the east and west of the Valley, respectively.

Haddow’s Valley, which consists of a sandy bottom with some exposed rock, is approximately 50 m in length from point A to D and runs in a north-south direction. The Valley is widest at its northern extremity, measuring 11 m, and narrowest towards the south, measuring 1 m. The Valley is demarcated by a 4 m Poseidonia matte to the west and Poseidonia sea- grass to the east. It was noted that a notch was cut into the lower half of the matte, between points C and D, possibly during Frost’s excavation in the late 1960s. Holes 1-5 were surrounded by sea-grass and covered with dead Poseidonia sea-grass which had to be removed prior to the excavation. The largest and deepest pocket, Hole 1, which is located roughly 0.5 m away from the Valley, has a maximum depth of 8.7 m, and is 4 m wide and 8 m long. The other four Holes varied in size, yet none was larger than 1 m in diameter, and they were found at a distance of roughly 12 m due west of the Valley. The ‘Crescent’, the last area to be located and documented during the 2013 season, is located approximately 20 m due east of Haddow’s Valley. It has a length of 12 m and is not wider that 0.5 m. The seafloor of the ‘Crescent’ consists of sand and rock, demarcated by Poseidonia sea-grass on its western side and a low matte on the eastern side.

Recovered artefacts

A high concentration of artefacts was recovered from the southern part of Haddow’s Valley, between points B, C and D. Artefacts were also recovered from within the ‘Crescent’. The grids, located in the northern section of the Valley, also produced a number of artefacts, along with Hole 1 (Fig. 15). All the artefacts consist of ceramics, and no metal or inorganic material was discovered during the 2013 season. The highest concentration was found at BC8, located close to the notch cut into the Poseidonia matte. The finds are divided between diagnostic and non- diagnostic, with a large percentage of finds being non-diagnostic (Fig. 14). It is important to note that all finds were abraded and smoothened, except for the larger pieces whose fabric was gritty and contained large inclusions. This is expected due to the weight of the larger pieces, since this would make these finds less susceptible to being moved around on the seabed.

The larger pieces generally consisted of mortaria sherds. The central section of the Valley produced no finds, however, material was located in Hole 1, which is adjacent to the central area of Haddow’s Valley. The bulk of finds was collected from the area between point C and D, with BC8, CD2 and CD6 producing the majority. However, out of 123 finds only 12 were diagnostic. The ‘Crescent’ produced the lowest number of finds, however, with the largest sherds belonging to amphorae and a small lamp (Fig 16.1-2, 4). The diagnostic sherds consisted of rims, handles, sherds with partial handles, bases and mortaria pieces, with the largest groups comprising handles, followed by mortaria pieces, rims and bases. Frost presents most of the pottery sherds as being ‘of a standard North African (Tunisian) type’ (Frost 1969, 15), which Frost uses to suggest that the ship may have been exclusively loaded in North Africa (Frost 1969, 15).

The most intact finds were the small lamp (F5) and pendant (BC7), along with a mortarium (BC8) (Fig. 16.3-5). The mortaria sherds were the heaviest pieces and those least likely to be transported by sea currents, and these were located in Grid position 6, Hole 1 and BC8. The handles were located in all areas and the rims were found in BC8, CD3 and F4. The three bases were located at CD5 and BC8, with one particular base found to be containing rosin (Fig. 16.6-8). The large percentage of non-diagnostic finds consisted of sherds and a handful of concretions, which were irregularly shaped, grey in colour and small in size. The large number of sherds varied in size and colour, from a light creamy pink, and reddish brown to grey. Some sherds contained inclusions in the fabric, including white, black and shiny flecks. A majority had a smooth fabric, whilst others were grittier. A good number of sherds contained rosin on the inner surface, most of which came from the areas between points B, C and D. The presence of rosin on the inside of these ceramic fragments points to wine-carrying amphorae.

Results: 2014 season

During the 2014 season Haddow’s Valley was re- explored along with the exploration and documentation of three other areas. These were 1A-1C (Figure of Eight), 2A-2B (Lake Bed) and 3A-3B (Snake Pit), with only area 1A-1C already previously explored by Frost (1969, 6) (Fig. 12). In the ‘Figure of Eight’ area the seabed consists of a sandy bottom, demarcated by Poseidonia sea- grass. The depth is approximately 10.5 m, and sondages were excavated, reaching a depth of 1.5 m. However, no cultural material was retrieved, with the exception of one fragment of frit, the base of an amphora containing rosin and a glass fragment. The ‘Lake Bed’ area is located to the south of Haddow’s Valley and the seabed here consists of exposed bedrock on the western half and sand on the eastern half. The western edge is marked by a 1.2 m Poseidonia matte, whilst Poseidonia sea-grass is found along the eastern edge. Depths in this area range from 4.9 m in the north to 6.4 m in the south. Of interest here is that the majority of finds were located in this area, found scattered over the surface towards the north-western side of the area and consisting mainly of metal fragments and ceramic sherds (Fig. 17).

The ‘Snake Pit’ area is located approximately 45m west of Haddow’s Valley, with depths ranging between 11-12 m. The seabed consists of sand and the area is demarcated by Poseidonia sea-grass. No cultural material was retrieved from this area.

Recovered artefacts

The highest concentration of finds was located within the ‘Lake Bed’ area, with a total of 13 finds, five of which were diagnostic pieces, and all lying exposed on the seabed. Overall, there were more non-diagnostic finds than diagnostic. The diagnostic artefacts consisted of an amphora base, one ceramic base, three ceramic handles, five mortaria rims and one mortaria base (Figs 18-19). The number of finds and their respective locations are presented in figure 20. One glass fragment and one frit fragment were located within the ‘Figure of Eight’ area, and other non-diagnostic artefacts consisted of ceramic sherds, metal fragments, a porous stone, metal conglomerations and two small wooden fragments.

Discussion and conclusion

When it comes to the site formation processes of the Mellieħa Bay wreck, it can be deduced that the area is highly dynamic, with the reef located in the centre acting as a hazard to vessels navigating and anchored in the bay. The scattered nature of the finds reflects a high- energy zone, and given the prevailing north- easterly winds, it is highly likely that the vessel struck the reef and proceeded to founder in the area under investigation. The growth of Poseidonia occurred after the foundering event and it can be assumed that the vessel broke up and spread during, and after, the foundering. In addition, for a significant period of time the objects on the seabed were periodically exposed to the high-energy nature of the bay, with the eventual growth of Poseidonia sea-grass stabilising the site. The finds retrieved from Haddow’s Valley and the surrounding areas can be characterised as being in a secondary deposition position. This is evident from the worn, smoothened and often abraded character of the finds, further indicating mobile depositional and post-depositional processes. Additionally, the retrieved finds were located at the bottom of the Poseidonia matte, indicating that there is a high potential of material evidence still within or under the mattes, as indicated by the anomalies detected during the magnetometer surveys. In fact, during the 2014 season material remains were found to be re-deposited in Haddow’s Valley over the course of the winter months. It is being postulated that these are being dislodged from the Poseidonia matte, and that the notches cut by Frost on the bottom of the matte have facilitated this process. The high-energy nature of the site, already evident in the 2013 season, is clearly spreading objects beyond Haddow’s Valley, as attested by finds recovered from the ‘Lake Bed’ area.

Thus, on the basis of what was explored and investigated in the 2013 and 2014 seasons it can be confirmed that this is a chronologically homogenous site with all objects dating from the third century AD. Of particular interest is the ‘pendant’, which possibly represents Sol Invictus, the cult of the official sun god, first made official by Emperor Aurelian in 273 AD (Leppin 2011, 102). The 2008-2010 discovery of five shipwrecks, close to the Italian island of Ventotene, sheds further light on the possible layout of the Mellieħa wreck. The Ventotene III wreck is located in deep waters and has remained relatively undisturbed over the millennia due to the gentler currents at these deeper depths. Here the mortaria were placed on the upper levels of the cargo sections, with the lower levels comprised of amphorae, and from the evidence gathered it would seem the Mellieħa wreck had a similar layout.

Thus, it can be said that ‘the major part of the wreck still lies beneath the dunes of dead weeds […]. This report will have served its purpose if it stimulates future marine archaeologists, who will have acquired improved techniques and accumulated more experience, to pursue the research’ (Frost 1969, 30).

Acknowledgements

The authors would like to thank the Honor Frost Foundation for the support provided throughout the consecutive field schools in 2013 and 2014, along with the Department of Classics and Archaeology at the University of Malta. Further thanks go to AquaVenture Dive School in Mellieħa for providing the diving equipment and storage facilities, as well as to all field school participants and visitors. Without their hard work the fieldwork and compilation of this report would not have been possible.

References

FROST, H. 1969. The Mortar Wreck in Mellieħa Bay. London: Apperton Press Ltd.

GAMBIN, T. 2013. Report – Mellieħa Bay Field School – Honor’s legacy for future generations, University of Malta.

GANADO, A., AGUIS-VADALÀ, M. 1994. A study in depth of 143 maps representing the Great Siege of Malta of 1565. Malta: Bank of Valletta.

GOSSAGE, D. 2014. Malta Marine Magnetometer Survey: Expanding the 2010 mag survey. Unpublished report.

KAPITÄN, G. 1961. Schiffsfrachten antiker Baugesteine und Architeckturteile vor den Küsten Ostsiziliens. Klio. 39: 276-318.

PARKER, A. J. 1992. Ancient Shipwrecks of the Mediterranean Sea and the Roman Provinces. Oxford: BAR Series 580.

St. Agatha’s Tower, Inventory No. 00033. National Inventory of the Cultural Property of the Maltese Islands. Available at: https://culture.gov.mt/en/culturalheritage/NICPM I_Database/00033.pdf (accessed 19th May 2020).

LEPPIN, H. 2011. Old Religions Transformed: Religions and Religious Policy from Decius to Constantine. In: RÜPKE, J. ed. 2011. A Companion to Roman Religion.West Sussex: Blackwell Publishing Ltd. pp. 96-108. Ta’ Kassisu Entrenchment, Inventory No. 1395. National Inventory of the Cultural Property of the Maltese islands. Available at: https://culture.gov.mt/en/culturalheritage/NICPM I_Database/1395.pdf (accessed 19th May 2020).

The Foundation. 2020 Available at: https://honorfrostfoundation.org/the-foundation/ (accessed on 9th June 2020).

Times of Malta. History from under the Sea, 14 July 1960.

Westreme Battery, Inventory No. 1396. National Inventory of the Cultural Property of the Maltese Islands. Available at: https://culture.gov.mt/en/culturalheritage/NICP MI_Database/1396.pdf (accessed 19th May 2020).

WETTINGER, G. 2000. Place-Names of the Maltese Islands ca. 1300-1800. Malta: P. E. G.

WILLIAMS, D. 2014. Kapitän 1. Roman Amphorae: a digital source. Available at: https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/archives/view/amphora_ahrb_2005/details.cfm?id=155&CFID=6338cdbc-5b24-4cb1-bc38- 6eafcef4265f&CFTOKEN=0 (accessed 20th May 2020).

ZAMMIT, C. G. 1965. Museum Annual Report 1965. Malta: Government Printing Office.

ZAMMIT, C. G. 1967. Museum Annual Report 1967. Malta: Government Printing Office.

Timmy GAMBIN is an Associate Professor in Maritime Archaeology at the Department of Classics and Archaeology, University of Malta. He graduated in History from this University and went on to attain his Masters in Maritime Archaeology and History from the University of Bristol where he also got his doctorate in Maritime Archaeology. Prof Gambin has been involved in numerous collaborative research projects, and has also co- directed numerous offshore underwater surveys in various parts of the Mediterranean.

Stephanie SAID studied Archaeology and History of Art at the University of Malta, followed up with an MA in Maritime Archaeology at the University of Southern Denmark, focusing her research on traditional wooden boats. Stephanie has gained an abundance of experience in commercial archaeology, on both terrestrial and maritime sites as part of her freelance work in Malta, for both governmental and private organisations. As of 2016, Stephanie has been lecturing on her ongoing research into traditional wooden crafts as part of the MA in Global Maritime Archaeology, University of Malta. In April 2017, Stephanie joined the Wessex Archaeology team in Edinburgh as a Marine Archaeologist.

Maja SAUSMEKAT is an archaeologist and a graduate from the University of Malta, having recently obtained a Masters in Archaeological Practice. Maja recently joined Heritage Malta’s Underwater Cultural Heritage Unit, combining a passion for research with everything underwater.

Pashala YATES assisted in the Honor Frost Foundation Field School held during June of 2013 and 2014. Pashala later graduated from the University of Malta with a Bachelor degree in Anthropology and Archaeology in 2014, and a Masters in Ocean Governance in 2015.

Malta Archaeological Review 2021, issue 12, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2021.3
Received: 3 June 2020 | Published online: 25 January 2021

The post Revisiting the Mellieħa Bay Wreck: A report on two seasons of survey and excavation (2013-2014) appeared first on The Archaeological Society Malta.

C. Sagona 2015. The Archaeology of Malta: from the Neolithic through the Roman period. (xix +449pp.), illustrated. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ISBN 978-1-107-006699-0 (hardback £84.99, US$135)

This book is the product of an ambitious project, one that has not been attempted before, that of covering the whole of Maltese archaeology from prehistory down to the Roman age, in a scholarly, fully annotated volume. The author dedicates a fair portion of attention to each period of the islands’ history, except to the Roman period which she considers as an extension of the Punic one, amply revealing where her sympathies, and her forte, lie. It is presented as somewhat of an anticlimax, the local population’s Punic culture being only affected by ‘Roman influence’ after centuries of Roman occupation. Although the publication data on p. vi suggest that the historical account is taken down to AD 870, in actual fact the end of the Roman period, and the preceding centuries, are not even discussed and the Late Roman period, which archaeologically merges into the Byzantine, and its rich archaeological record are completely ignored. She steers clear of the sensitive controversy regarding the timing of Christianization, apart from a fleeting reference to St Paul’s shipwreck.

The text is fully supported throughout with citations, including page numbers when required, showing that the author is entirely au courant with the latest publications down to the very year of publication (2015) and with current research projects. She constantly places these developments against the general Mediterranean backdrop. She is very complimentary towards this country and its people, a sentiment encapsulated in the dedication of the book on page vii, and her mood about Maltese archaeology is throughout very optimistic both for the present and for the future. In her narrative she often weaves the islands’ political and cultural texture into the development of the discipline.

In such a mandatorily short review it is impossible to do justice to such an ambitious work. For this reason I shall dwell only on some of the salient controversial issues raised by it.

Chapter 1 (‘Malta’s Archaeological Past’) provides a brief account of the geology and geomorphology of the islands, followed by an equally brief literature review from the 16th century to the present, including a list of radiocarbon dates from cultural and environmental contexts on which Malta’s prehistoric chronological sequence is based. In chapter 2, dedicated to ‘The first Settlers and Farmers’, a fair assessment is made of the attempts made in the 1980s to establish evidence for a pre-Neolithic human presence, including ‘possible cave art’ inside Għar Ħasan. The rest of the chapter is a pretty standard overview of Malta’s Neolithic.

As expected, the lion’s share of the book, almost 100 pages, is taken up by the megalithic cultural development, spread over the next two chapters. For her own good reasons she desists from adopting the designation ‘Temple’ for both the period (‘Late Neolithic’) and its characteristic structures (‘megaliths’). She makes the ‘buildings with large apse-shaped rooms’ emerge ‘towards the end of the fifth millennium’ (p. 74), half a millennium earlier than the standard dating (correctly dated on p. 76). It should be noted, also, that the outlying structures to the northeast at Kordin III (Fig. 3.4A: 4-5), identified as ‘domestic structures’, have now been found to form part of a typical five-apse ‘temple’ unit. In her assessment of the belief systems of the temple builders Sagona takes a cautious stand regarding shamanism (p. 93-96) in ritual practice, especially after the discovery of the six plank-like figurines from the Xagħra Circle hypogeum, as well as the diffused ‘mother goddess’ interpretation of the predominant sexually ambiguous statuary. She concedes, however, that some of the non-figurative artistic expressions may possibly be the effect of altered states of consciousness (pp. 96-103).

Sagona makes one of her most daring statements on the demise of the megalith building culture in Chapter 4, intriguingly titled ‘Pushing boundaries at the end of the megalithic building period’. It is with this phenomenon that she ties up the enigmatic Maltese cart ruts. She considers the cart ruts as a means of pushing the boundaries of a diminishing agricultural production into marginal zones. I do not think she is correct in seeing the quarries at Misraħ Għar il-Kbir ‘clearly cut through pre-existing furrows in a number of places and hence post- date them’ (p.119). If anything, the opposite is true. There are at least two areas where the cart ruts clearly cut into the ancient quarry beds. She also sees evidence of purposeful closure of the ritual practices associated with megaliths and, therefore, of continuity of human life into the Bronze Age.

Chapter 5, ‘New directions: the appearance of the axe-bearers’, expresses abundant optimistic expectations from the current unfolding of the understanding of archaeological research to explain the fundamental changes that brought about the end of the Neolithic and the establishment of the Bronze Age cultures (p. 135). She sees the ‘new cultural horizon linked to an influx of people’ from outside, but this ‘wave of immigration’ is only seen as a possible influence on the largely indigenous population for a change in economic strategies (p. 134). For reasons known to her alone, she assigns the silo pits typical of Borġ in-Nadur phase settlements to the Early Bronze Age (i.e. the Tarxien Cemetery phase) and, again gratuitously, associates those on the water’s edge at St George’s Bay with the production of murex shell dye (pp. 149-51). Her hypothesis would make Malta the earliest purple dye producer in the Mediterranean.

The period of occupation by the Phoenicians and their Punic descendants takes up Chapters 6 and 7. Sagona persists in her insistence on a much earlier date for a Phoenician presence on Malta than generally agreed. She bases this on perceived evidence of interaction between these early mariners and the local prehistoric inhabitants, and on the presumed evolution of Phoenician pottery wares preceding the Għajn Qajjet tomb and other contemporary tombs containing datable Greek pottery. Regarding this point and other aspects of this period, Sagona provides a clear summation of the contents of her other voluminous publications. The ‘Summary’ at the end of Chapter 7 is no summary at all, but a preview of what will happen to the Phoenician-Punic cultural legacy in the following Roman period (Chapter 8) on which I have already dwelt at the beginning.

As for the cult of Mithras for which she sees abundant evidence in the archaeological record (collected together in Fig. 8.5), I limit myself to a few telegraphic rebuttals. I cannot understand how she insists on seeing a Mithraic initiation rite on the Mdina marble slab which clearly depicts two Greek soldiers (Odysseus and Diomedes) in heroic nudity, one actually pointing a sword at the Trojan captive (Dolon) dressed appropriately in oriental fashion. Figures of young men or boys dressed in this fashion could represent other oriental characters in the Greco-Roman world, such as Attis (the object of another oriental mystery cult). This applies also to the few terracotta figurines of young boys with Phrygian caps on horseback deriving from some rock-cut tombs. Similarly, terracotta cockerels are often found in Punic, pre-Roman funerary contexts, such as at Kerkouane. The graphic reconstruction of the rock-cut sanctuary of Ras il-Wardija as a ‘possible mithraeum’ remains a very remote possibility, as are the imagined figures carved on a wall in the Salina catacomb and the arched niche at Misraħ Għar il-Kbir.

In this brief review I have focused on a number of controversial points that are unlikely to withstand the test of scholarly scrutiny, namely: the dating and purpose of the cart ruts, the dye pits, the early date for the Phoenician colonization, the presence of a Mithras cult in Roman Malta. Notwithstanding all these caveats, this book constitutes a very useful tool in the hands of the researcher of Maltese archaeology.

Anthony Bonanno
Department of Classics and Archaeology
University of Malta

Malta Archaeological Review 2021, issue 12, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2021.1
Received: 29 October 2016 | Published online: 25 January 2021

The post C. Sagona 2015. The Archaeology of Malta: from the Neolithic through the Roman period. (xix +449pp.) appeared first on The Archaeological Society Malta.

D. Tanasi and D. Cardona, eds, 2020. The Maltese Archipelago at the Dawn of History: Reassessment of the 1909 and 1959 excavations at Qlejgħa tal-Baħrija and other essays. (188 pp.), illustrated. Oxford: Archaeopress. ISBN 9781789694932 (print)/ ISBN 9781789694949 (epublication) (Paperback £35.00)

For too long, the Maltese Bronze Age was the less popular cousin of the Neolithic. This started to change in 2011, when Tanasi and Nicholas Vella published Site, artefacts, landscape: prehistoric Borġ in-Nadur, Malta, followed by The late prehistory of Malta: essays on Borg in-Nadur and other sites in 2015 and this volume in 2020. All are published by Archaeopress and supported in part by the Shelby White-Leon Levy Foundation of Harvard University. Together, these volumes achieve many firsts, including a re-assessment of the Bronze Age, fundamental archaeometric analysis, absolute dates and the bringing together of various strands of research to produce a fundamental Bronze Age trilogy. Cumulatively, these books embody good practice for collaboration between various researchers and institutions, resulting in a much-needed fresh perspective that stems from different scholarly traditions.

Throughout, rigorous scholarship has been applied to data sets that lay neglected from academic discourse. The research shows the importance of engaging with existing data sets and, more importantly, shows just how time consuming the process is. It requires focus and rigour, all of which abound in all three volumes. The latest instalment tackles the very difficult period of the mid-13th century BCE and onwards, focusing on the key site of Qlejgħa tal- Baħrija. Both the site and the period have been subject to speculation and neglect, with a number of arguments based on broad suppositions and dubious later chronologies. All the authors tackled these questions by careful analysis of materials, unshackled by the burden of previous debates.

Starting with a history of interventions at Qlejgħa, the volume re-assesses the key work by David Trump. An intensive survey by MariaElena Zammit assessed the entire site, rather than the excavated parts. Combined with a careful study of pottery and careful mapping of 42 rock-cut pits, this shows the site is much more extensive than what has been excavated. In particular, the mapping of the pits provides much needed context, shows how they are related to other features and gives an indication of quarrying activity before the digging of pits. Equally, the paper by Stephan Hassam shows that the site’s biography extended well beyond the Bronze Age (a period that remains in need of more analyses).

The book considers all known aspects of the site, including a much-needed catalogue of stone and other artefacts (Veca, Trapani, Tanasi), showing both outside contacts and local stone working and a very thought-provoking paper by Carlo Veca on textiles. Bronze Age textiles are at the centre of many debates in wider Mediterranean and European studies. While traces of textile production have been acknowledged in Malta, there remains a lacuna in discussing textile making. Rather than relying on moot arguments centred on ‘silos’, Veca offers a thorough, methodical re-assessment, anchoring the debate in current studies. He identifies textile production across different parts of the site, which in turn offers scope for further research. Based on his results, if excavations are resumed they should have a detailed environmental sampling strategy which will provide much needed archaeobotanical data.

A number of papers are focused on pottery, a project that Tanasi has been working on for a long time. Tanasi’s paper on pottery from the 1909 and 1959 excavations is particularly interesting and finally provides a working catalogue for Bronze Age sherds. It would be most welcome to have higher resolution photographs of select sherds, particularly the ones described as incised. A visual examination shows a number of different tools used for incision and some comb stamping. The arguments regarding wheel made pottery are convincing. The use of a slow wheel is extremely likely and it is good to see engagement beyond the ‘conventional wisdom’ that the wheel is a Phoenician invention.

One of the highlights is Tanasi demonstrating that Baħrija ware is of local production. Tanasi, Tykot, Pirone and Vella also conducted non- destructive pXRF analysis on a number of sherds, showing a predominance of Maltese clays. This is backed up by the excellent archaeometric work in the subsequent chapter. In both cases, the data are presented in tables. It would be wonderful if the time period/phase for each sample were noted, particularly since this work will inform research methodologies for years to come.

Section 3 of this volume contextualizes Baħrija. Tanasi has been refreshingly open about how research develops and his willingness to re- assess and re-evaluate data in light of new discoveries is particularly welcome. The trilogy makes it possible for researchers to follow the train of thought. Tanasi re-assesses the difficult question of Maltese pottery in Thapsos. His thought process is clearly laid out, showing the importance of making these processes available to the wider research community. Cazzella and Recchia identify Baħrija deposits at Tas-Silġ. Their work shows that the Late Bronze Age break is anything but, at least at the site of Tas- Silġ. There too they are engaged in a long-term programme of re-assessment anchored in detailed excavations. If the Tas-Silġ data appear at odds with that from Borġ in-Nadur and Baħrija, it is worth remembering that many of the Bronze Age sherds come from disturbed contexts. This is not surprising, given the long life history of Tas-Silġ. More importantly, it is refreshing to see contrasting points of view in a publication. The Bronze Age (and the Neolithic, for that matter) cannot be seen in terms of being exactly the same across the islands. Tas-Silġ offers a particular type of context, one which is almost unknown in the Maltese Bronze Age.

Equally, the analysis of faunal remains from Għar Mirdum offers an insight into different strategies across the islands. Here, Miccichè draws parallels with Borġ in-Nadur. This assemblage provides much needed data on animal consumption and butchery and offers fruitful avenues for a study of mortuary practices. Perhaps most intriguing is the presence of (unusually large) chicken bones. This is particularly interesting because it is broadly agreed that chickens only appear in the western Mediterranean in the 9th century BCE. There remains a lot of work to be done when it comes to chickens. Of course it is entirely possible that the Għar Mirdum examples come from a later layer, especially considering the size. The only way to answer this question, both in Malta and elsewhere, is via radiometric dating.

Finally, this volume has four important results. First, there is mounting evidence that the Baħrija “phase” is subsequent to Borġ in-Nadur rather than running in parallel – at least at the site of Qlejgħa. Tas-Silġ might yet yield more surprises. Second, the Baħrija phenomenon is an indigenous one. Previously, it was related to the Fossa Grave culture in Calabria and the Ausonian III in Sicily. An uncritical acceptance of the Sicilian paradigm has long blighted studies of the Neolithic and Bronze Age. It is good to see carefully collated evidence that challenges deep-seated assumptions. Third, it is clear that at least some “Mycenaean” pots are made locally. Whether these are the result of extensive external contact remains to be seen, but this highlights why it is essential to carry out thorough scientific analyses rather than relying on visual “style”.

Fourth and finally, Tanasi and Tykot offer much needed radiometric dates. The late David Trump had a deep interest in the Bronze Age. It is good to see that his thoughts are borne out by radiometric dates, especially since he was keen to obtain such dates. More importantly, the radiometric dates anchor the arrival of the Phoenicians (and thus the conventional end of prehistory) to not earlier than 750 BC. And as a bonus, the isotopes in the sample show that cattle are eating C3 plants.

Like every good piece of research, this volume answers questions and raises new ones. It also offers a space to revisit conclusions and voice dissent where needed. The collaborative nature of the work is particularly welcome and it is hoped that this standard will be adopted across all archaeological research on the islands. This is the beginning of a new era for Bronze Age studies on the Maltese Islands.

Isabelle Vella Gregory
McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research
University of Cambridge

Malta Archaeological Review 2021, issue 12, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2021.2
Received: 16 June 2020 | Published online: 25 January 2021

The post D. Tanasi and D. Cardona, eds, 2020. The Maltese Archipelago at the Dawn of History: Reassessment of the 1909 and 1959 excavations at Qlejgħa tal-Baħrija and other essays. (188 pp.) appeared first on The Archaeological Society Malta.

The Early Neolithic of the Maltese Islands is mostly known for its ceramics, with more substantial remains in the Skorba phase. However, the ceramics provide insight into communities. This paper traces the making of pots in the Early Neolithic, focusing on how a study of technology is also a study of people and their practices. In particular, it shows how an examination of tools used to decorate pottery reveals social and technological choices by local inhabitants.

Keywords: pottery; Neolithic; Għar Dalam phase; Skorba phase; decoration; technology

Introduction

The study of Maltese pottery is slowly moving away from a rigid focus on typology and exploring themes related to manufacture, source material and attributes. The next step is to set an agenda to explore pottery within the framework of a community of practice, following the chaîne opératoire from beginning to end. Traditionally, the concept of a chaîne opératoire involves tracing the chain of operations leading to an object. It was first applied to stone tool technology and has since found much wider application (Dobres 1999). It traces the object from acquiring the source material to its work and use and final deposition. Combined with the concept of object biography (Appadurai 1986) and community of practice (a group of people who share a craft or profession, Lave & Wenger 1991; Wenger 1998), this is a very useful approach to understanding objects within their social domain. At its heart, this approach views technology as a social phenomenon. Much like the process of making and using a pot, it combines multiple avenues of inquiry. This paper examines the Early Neolithic phases of Għar Dalam and Skorba within this framework, providing an initial case study for this approach by looking at technological choices as expressed via tools used for décor and their implications.

Pottery: A social technology

The transformation of clay with fire, water and air into pottery, with useful longevity in the archaeological record, has resulted into one of the most ubiquitous objects in archaeological sites. This has resulted in many other transformations, for example different ways of preparing, eating and storing food, the making of ‘non-utilitarian’ objects, the creation of new building materials etc. In short, pottery is part of deeper social transformations. The ubiquity of pottery in the prehistoric Mediterranean (and elsewhere) has another consequence. Pottery has become one of the key classificatory tools in archaeology. It has been used to provide chronologies and define social groups and their movements but in the process far less attention has been paid to the wider socio-technological implications.

A ceramic vessel is a very concrete, material object but large parts of its biography leave ephemeral traces (Fig. 1). It starts with the acquisition of clay. Transforming clay requires water, temper (sometimes) and fire. Each step requires a set of tools. Attribute analyses have identified some of the types of tools used for creating decoration (Vella Gregory 2017). In turn, these tools have their own object biographies. Tools for decorating pottery can be objects like bone (which in itself involves the biography of an animal) and natural objects like wood, modified for several purposes. Studying the sequence of steps in making a pot provides a framework for understanding variability and conformity. More importantly, these steps reflect “how society structures technological practices in order that socially specific material culture is produced and reproduced” (Kohring 2011, 148). Pots are made within a technical tradition which in turn is taught and mediated by social relationships.

Studies of Maltese prehistoric pottery have had a complicated relationship with the concept of technology. Early work by Despott (1917; 1923) noted things like the texture of clay, the colour of the core, the absence or presence of slip or ‘design’, but there was no systematic approach to the corpus beyond a descriptive one. Margaret Murray (1923) noted that Maltese pottery is difficult to study due to its fragmentary state, although her research focused on areas of heavy agricultural use. Themistocles Zammit divided pottery into Neolithic and Bronze age, and Ashby et al. (1913) adopted a more systematic approach. But the most lasting influence on Maltese pottery remains the work of J.D. Evans (1953; 1959) and David Trump. Evans focused on producing a sequence based on shape, style, decoration and handles. Excavations by Trump (1961b; 1966) substantially revised the typology and chronological sequence, yielding a new phase (the Skorba phase, subdivided into two phases) and providing much needed sequential clarity. This typology remains largely unchallenged even in more recent excavations (Malone et al. 2009).

Much of this is related to how archaeologists view technology in Maltese archaeology. More broadly, archaeology has engaged with technology in various ways. One useful way of looking at the Maltese Neolithic is through the lens of technology, the role of which has been extensively debated in archaeology (Ingold 1990; Gell 1992; Dobres 2000), where technology is viewed as a multi-faceted activity that goes beyond the simple making of things. The technological debate in Maltese prehistory tends to rely on traditional notions of modes of subsistence and functional production, with less attention paid to the social embeddedness of technology and the web of relations and meanings relating to the actions of people on materials (Lemonnier 2002). A discussion of the social embeddedness of technology goes beyond the traditional studies of ceramics and takes as a starting point the notion that people make all sorts of things at many different scales, each of which has a place (or many) in the social arena. Things, whether pottery vessels, figurines or complex buildings, can profoundly influence social relations. They are not merely objects, but they have a biography which is related to that of people and community.

Within this framework, a study of pots is also a study of people (Ingold 1990), knowledge (Barth 2002) and practice (Bourdieu 1977). The study of people’s actions on materials and their transformation, referred to here as techniques, is also a study of wider social phenomena. Therefore, technology is not simply about the making of things but also about interactions between people and the physical world (Coupaye 2009). Within a community of practice, potters share a technological tradition within their social networks. These can be at village level, at a broader social level and even beyond the shores of a society. The discussion below explores technological choices within a contextual framework, rather than seeing pots as separate to the community. While a vessel is made by one (or more) persons, this occurs within a social arena and as such the end result reflects both the potter and society’s use of the vessel. The Għar Dalam and Skorba phases are mostly known via their ceramics (and settlement remains in Skorba) and exploring vessels is a means of exploring underlying systems of knowledge and social relations.

Għar Dalam and Skorba pottery

The Għar Dalam (5000-4500 BC) and Grey and Red Skorba phases (4500-4400, 4400-4100 BC) are most visible through ceramics, made using locally available materials (Vella Gregory 2017). The Għar Dalam remains from Skorba point to a farming community but hardly anything is known about burial ritual and other aspects of life and cosmology. The pottery is traditionally descried as being of the Impressed Ware variety, which in reality is a broad term that is applicable to many decorative schemes across the Mediterranean. Traditionally parallels have been drawn with pottery from Stentinello in nearby southeast Sicily. Contact between the Maltese archipelago and Sicily is well-established but the nature of this contact needs to be re-evaluated. Impressed Ware is a problematic way of describing an assemblage, particularly since the term refers to a decorative technique seen in wide-ranging spatial and temporal contexts. These can be diverse even over a relatively short geographical distance (see for example Natali & Forgia 2018). On its own this is not an indicator of direct evolution and the passive reception of social practices.

Indeed, the so-called Impressed pottery appears in very different contexts in Sicily and Malta. Sicily has ditched settlements on the eastern coastal plain and elsewhere there is a variation in different settlement patterns related to different landscapes. Caves were inhabited seasonally and where present, ditched settlements are a community project tied to constructions of identity and demarcating space. Sometimes, ditches in Sicily have small deposits of human bones. Burials are also varied, generally cyst and pit graves with a few grave goods (Leighton 1999). By contrast, contemporary settlement in Malta is in caves. There are no ditched villages in Malta and when villages appear in 4500 BC they take a different form. Burial data remains unknown for this period and cosmological beliefs are fleetingly seen in other forms of ritual. Therefore, while the technique may have had Sicilian origins, it is reworked in a different context and acquires different meanings over time. More pertinently, a re-examination of the assemblage described as Impressed Ware shows that vessels were decorated using a variety of tools and motor actions.

The Għar Dalam ceramic repertoire is best understood through an analysis of the motifs in terms of constituent components because what really distinguishes the various Impressed Wares are the tools that made them and the techniques of production. The assemblage is produced using a variety of techniques, producing different motifs that can be combined in different ways. Comb-stamping, a versatile technique that involves stamping clay when semi-wet, is widely used and produces different designs. For example, some sherds comprise incised or stamped chevrons in a joined-up zig-zag pattern, or a herringbone-like patterns and with the spaces between the chevrons sometimes infilled with comb-stamped lines, effectively combining different tools and motor actions (Fig. 2). There is also an Għar Dalam phase sherd from Mġarr (Ta’ Ħaġrat) which has two parallel lines made by an evenly serrated comb with two teeth using the APS technique (Alternately Pivoting Stamp) (Fig. 3). Other Għar Dalam sherds were decorated by incising lines with a stylus rather than impressing a comb. These can be either parallel lines, combinations of parallel and angular lines, or lines forming incised squares and quadrangles, and wavy lines.

Għar Dalam shapes are relatively simple but the variable surface treatments make use of different techniques of production. The range of tools in use at this time is not particularly wide, consisting of stiff pointed tools (for example sticks or sharpened bone) and two pronged implements functioning as combs being common. Interestingly for an island, there is no identified use of fish spines for incising any of the lines or for stamping; fish spines would have produced more regular spaced incised lines and the stamping would have had an identifiable curvature to it. This does indicate a distinct social selective mechanism in the choice of the implements used by the potters. There is a large proportion of coarse ware and finer wares are much rarer. While settlement data for this period remain very scant, the ceramic technology indicates production at a household level, in a context where there is agreement within communities on the set of tools employed for decoration.

The Għar Dalam phase pottery is not just found at Għar Dalam cave but also from Ta’ Ħaġrat and Skorba in Mġarr, where Trump (1966, 17) lists the remnant of a deposit beneath the lowest floor in the right-hand apse of the eastern temple. No mention is made of another extant Għar Dalam deposit at the site and so this may be the original context for the sherd mentioned above. This phase is also known from Santa Verna and Skorba (Trump 1961a); at the latter, roughly a quarter are fine wares and the remainder are coarse wares. Clay is also used to produce figuration, traditionally said to appear in the subsequent Skorba phase at a time of increased social complexity. Three heads of animals from Għar Dalam that were once part of bowls point to an interest in representation. These are made using techniques similar to the production of vessels (Fig. 4). These objects display an interest in representation. They also show how techniques are utilized to create multiple forms and express a concern with creating something other than a utilitarian vessel. At this stage in the Neolithic, there is a certain amount of experimentation and creative expression that is reflected in the production of ceramics.

The subsequent Grey Skorba phase shows a shift in practice and choices. Trump (1961a, 301) observed a continuity in terms of “a complete absence of decoration, pedestal sherds, simple open rims, and a dark burnished ware distinguished by very frequent small white grits. This also occurred in certain Għar Dalam sherds, where the pedestal was also recognised.” This should be read in general terms. White grits are the only common feature, resulting from relatively homogenous clays on the islands. Pedestals are also a feature of some Grey Skorba vessels. However, such comparisons rely on very broad categories. It is hard to make a case for continuity, or its absence, based on such limited parameters. Principal Component Analysis groups of the results from analysing six trace elements by Pirone (2017) in Neolithic – Bronze Age sherds resulted in the majority of Għar Dalam and Grey and Red Skorba samples being grouped together, making it difficult to distinguish variation.

Grey Skorba pottery has powdered gypsum for tempering. The pottery is largely (but not exclusively) undecorated, the only surface treatment is a high polish and no slip. Emphasis has been placed on handles, which can be horizontal pierced lugs, imperforate lugs or dimpled at the ends to suggest perforation. These have been noted as signs of “considerable development during the phase” even though “this could be correlated with the stratigraphy only in the most general terms” (Trump 1966, 26). The Red Skorba phase is characterized by more substantial villages. The pottery is highly burnished, infrequently decorated and distinctively red in colour. Red Skorba vessels have been compared to Diana ware in Sicily, however while this comparison may hold true superficially, it does not explain the social changes from the earlier Għar Dalam phase and the subsequent Skorba phases. Indeed, such an uncritical approach views identity as not only a simple reproduction of an ill-defined Sicilian identity but also as remaining static over a period of 1,100 years.

Diana pottery in Sicily is distributed fairly broadly across that island. Although fairly homogenous in appearance, it is worth noting that the evolution to undecorated vessels is rather slow in Sicily. The first Diana pots still bear some traces of decoration from the previous phase, consisting of meanders and spirals. The second phase is a largely undecorated assemblage with much simpler forms and bright red surfaces (Tusa 1983), more akin to what is known in the Maltese Islands. Eventually, Diana ware loses its characteristic red slip and there is a much narrower shape range. By contrast, the transition from Għar Dalam to the two Skorba phases on the Maltese Islands sees a shift from rough-textured surfaces to shiny plain grey and eventually bright red surfaces.

Furthermore, incision is used in some Skorba phase figurative representation and new reductive techniques are employed in the making of other objects. Ceramic production takes place at a village level. It is unclear if it is produced at a household level or if this indicates the emergence of potters. The consistency in temper, the uniformity and ubiquity of plain wares and the adoption of slip indicate the slow appearance of specialisation. At the same time, people are transforming other materials. Bones are transformed into tools or personal ornaments (for example a cow incisor, a cockle and a cowrie are perforated for use as pendants). Local flint is used to produce tools, mostly blades. Of note are a single-piece sickle blade with secondary working and gloss, and two smaller blades with sickle gloss. Chert flakes are described as more numerous than pot sherds (Trump 1966, 29). Local chert is easily available and was very much a material at hand, used to create disposable tools. There is a focus on the raw material, particularly material that is imported. Obsidian tools are relatively small in number at this stage but two cores (one from Pantelleria, weighing at 1.7kg and another from Lipari weighing at 400g) were found in Red Skorba levels. ‘Exotic’ materials are present in small numbers and also include an adze-amulet made of hard green-black stone described as non-local (Trump 1966).

Red Skorba phase ritual is seen in a ‘shrine’. Its North Room contained large quantities of domesticated animal bones related to consumption. However, there were ground cow tarsals, approximately 3cm in height. These were produced using a reductive technique. Furthermore, both rooms contained goat skulls with fairly straightened horns, a complete cranium and the removal of the facial bones from the upper ends of the orbits. Two of these were found side by side in the North Room and other examples were found in both rooms (Trump 1966, 14). The report also notes numerous chert flakes, especially in the North room. This space was therefore used as a repository for worked objects and the making of objects and perhaps tools. Skorba was a small village in which households functioned largely as dwelling places. Larger projects required a communal space and the shrine was also a meeting place.

This flexibility in the use of spaces is possible in a small society and an effective form of social sodality. The North Room also contained a small number of figurines. The majority of figurines are made out of clay and, like the vessels, they are highly burnished. All represent the human form, specifically the female body. The placement of figurines in a ‘shrine’ utilised for structured ritual and the production of tools suggests that Skorba people placed value on the communal aspects of production and transformation, both in terms of transforming materials and the transformations of rituals. The production of figurines is closely linked to that of pottery, not just in terms of material but in terms of decorative techniques. The Skorba figurines (Fig. 4) are burnished and bright red, like the pottery. Unlike the pottery, they are not completely plain but only specific elements are represented, in particular genitalia and noses. Producing the human body in the Red Skorba phase is an additive process that employs many techniques used in the production of pottery. However, processes used to make figurines, for example incisions, are not replicated on vessels. Objects made using a variety of techniques are placed and used together in a space where different techniques intersect and create relations. Seemingly disparate objects and techniques were considered necessary to create a context (the ‘shrine’) for a specific set of practices.

Conclusion

The reconfiguration of ceramic technology is part of a wider series of technological changes, which in turn are linked to a different approach to daily practice. This is linked to a shift towards larger village settlement and new perceptions of the world beyond the Maltese Islands. Approaching the ceramic repertoire from a purely stylistic and typological standpoint obscures these broader changes. As Gosselain (2000) notes, pottery traditions (and this refers to choices in materials and manufacturing techniques) may incorporate elements of different origins. Furthermore, in deciding which techniques to adopt, people may choose to manipulate these techniques without jeopardizing the chaîne opératoire. Thus, while the origins of Early Neolithic pottery in Malta may derive from Sicily, use of the category Impressed Ware is unproductive. Ultimately, a ceramic repertoire presents us with a complex mix of inventions, borrowed ideas and manipulations. These can be redefined and reinterpreted to suit a particular group’s needs.

Techniques like impressing and burnishing can be easily borrowed and interpreted without necessarily entailing continuous direct influence from Sicily. This is no way excludes cultural contact. Rather, it highlights that contact was much more dynamic than previously thought and a narrative based on the passive reception of ideas and practice masks agency and the networks it operates in. Gosselain (2000) notes that from a typological point of view, tools (for example for creating impressions) allow for the identification of social networks whose interactions may be occasional or superficial. Thus, despite some form of contact, people would not necessarily see themselves as a bounded cultural unit. This is precisely why artefacts need to be considered as part of a complex and dynamic system with an equally multi-layered biography. On the Maltese Islands people reconfigure their view of materials, for example, by prizing obsidian as a core rather than as a tool. They also construct new forms of knowledge about the meaning of distance and value.

What is apparent on the Maltese Islands is that there is a clear a reconfiguration of both the ceramic and tool technologies. Tools are used to create burnished or polished glossy surfaces. Techniques of comb stamping, impression and incision are replaced by polishing and burnishing. The precise recipes for constructing pots are the subject of further research. In terms of decor and production, knowledge is passed on both within and across villages. This is seen in agreed temper recipes across communities, pointing to a shared and agreed process of acquiring materials. There is also agreement on production techniques within any one period of time. Trump’s (1961a) observation that some forms of late Għar Dalam pottery survive into the early Skorba phase is also borne out by Pirone’s study of trace elements (Pirone 2017). This strongly indicates local continuity within wider evolving social practices. More importantly, these changes in the community of practice were not imposed or imported from outside. Future application of this approach to new datasets of Neolithic pottery (Vella Gregory 2017, 2018) will elucidate how communities of practices evolved and were made manifest over the millennia.

Acknowledgements

The author is deeply grateful to Heritage Malta and the National Museum of Archaeology, particularly Sharon Sultana and Vanessa Ciantar. Daniel Cilia was generous with his images, as always. Thanks are also due to anonymous reviewers for their constructive feedback.

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Isabelle VELLA GREGORY is an Affiliated Scholar at the McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research, Cambridge.

Malta Archaeological Review 2021, issue 12, https://doi.org/10.46651/mar.2021.4
Received: 8 September 2020 | Published online: 25 January 2021

The post Ceramic production techniques and decorative motifs in the Early Neolithic of the Maltese Islands appeared first on The Archaeological Society Malta.