1Since the late 19th century, relief-decorated sarcophagi have been a significant research subject mainly for German archaeology and served as the namesake of the monumental series (Corpus) of the German Archaeological Institute in Berlin: »Die antiken Sarkophagreliefs« (ASR). More specifically, sarcophagi with mythological images were studied in their entirety, irrespective of the workshop where they originated, and were the subject of comprehensive commentary by Carl Robert in four volumes of the series published in the late 19th and early 20th centuries[1]. The Corpus thenceforth served as an invaluable tool for the next generations of scholars, even to this day, as the material in question was presented exhaustively in the form of catalogues, classified typologically, dated and studied in terms of their iconography with the primary aim of identifying the models of mythological depictions and their meaning, in certain cases. Present-day criticism concerning the focus and course of the Corpus[2] may be partly justified, because funerary monuments such as sarcophagi were primarily regarded as carriers of relief depictions, i. e. as works of art[3]. However, one should consider that without this seminal work, it would have been impossible to have a general overview of the material or to obtain information of any kind or necessary statistical data[4] – and discourse among scholars could not have proceeded in other directions without this basis. On the other hand, with respect to methodology, I believe that modern attempts to carry out an iconological interpretation of mythological depictions in the light of funerary and general social beliefs[5] or even from the perspective of broader historical considerations[6] are far from removed from the method of iconographic analysis, which cannot but serve as the starting point for any interpretative endeavour.

2The almost exclusive interest in the monuments of the Western Empire was crucial for the orientation of research provided through later – after Robert – volumes of the Corpus until recently. In other words, the volumes published until the 1990s concern groups of sarcophagi that were created in Rome and the broader Italian region. By way of exception, a small section of the four-volume work of Friedrich Matz on Dionysiac sarcophagi – and, specifically, volume IV 1 (1968) – included, apart from the numerous sarcophagi of Rome, the hitherto few Attic sarcophagi belonging to this thematic group[7]. An additional number of updated volumes of the series (XII »Die mythologischen Sarkophage«) are also dedicated to the mythological sarcophagi of Rome, and half have been published to date[8]. The first volume, published in just 1975 (XII 6)[9], includes not only the numerous Meleagros sarcophagi from Rome but also the far smaller group of corresponding Attic works. The volumes on the other thematic groups of Attic sarcophagi, i. e. the groups of sarcophagi depicting Achilleus, Hippolytos, various other myths and the groups depicting the Amazonomachy and all kinds of battles, were published much later and, as planned, were included in a separate set of volumes concerning Greek sarcophagi (IX 1–3: 1995, 2011, 2016). One exception was the group of sarcophagi depicting Erotes and garlands, which were separated from the Corpus (volume IX 4) and included in a newly founded series titled »Sarkophag-Studien« (volume 9, 2016).

3If we consider that the sarcophagi Corpus serves as one strong pillar in the research of this major category of monuments, then a second pillar would undoubtedly be found in the handbook by Guntram Koch and Helmut Sichtermann on sarcophagi of the Roman Empire, published in the series of the »Handbuch der Archäologie« in 1982. The exceptionally broad overview of all the works in this category throughout the Roman world that this achievement offered and continues to offer enabled the identification of the individual workshops and the determination of their actual scale, both regarding each one individually and in comparison to one another. The workshop of Attic sarcophagi, in particular, which was analysed over no fewer than 110 pages of the volume, was acknowledged, even before its presentation in the corresponding volumes of the Corpus had proceeded significantly, as one of the most important of the category, second only to that of Rome. After the publication of the Corpus with regard to Attic sarcophagi was concluded, and after the publication of several collections, groups or isolated works of the category, which have markedly grown in number in recent years[10], the large volume of the material in question has now become accessible to experts[11]. As such, this will now enable synthetic studies touching upon varied subjects relating to the dissemination and use of monuments, as well as issues concerning the interpretation of their depictions.

4In this study, we will mainly focus on issues of iconography and iconological interpretation of mythological scenes on Attic sarcophagi, our ultimate objective being to explore their significance as carriers of information regarding perceptions of life and death, as well as the expectations of their recipients-purchasers during the difficult times they came faced the loss of loved ones or were preparing for the inevitable (Sinngehalt/iconology). Our effort will be based on a wide analysis of the iconographic material, particularly the mythological topics that dominate this Attic works and frequently survive in more than one example, in order to clearly grasp and interpret the changes that are known to occur over the approximately 130 years of their production (A.D. 130–260). Several studies so far have engaged with relevant matters and offered important remarks and interpretation proposals, mainly in the context of publishing material or on the occasion of re-examination of works of particular interest or presenting problematic interpretation. An important place is held among these by the interpretive proposals of Pascale Linant de Bellefonds in the context of the publication of the Attic sarcophagi of Tyre [12]. However, there is a paucity of synthetic studies focusing on the entire range of mythological topics and their importance for the recipients of the monuments in question. This paucity is particularly felt when considering the corresponding yet clearly greater interest expressed far earlier, for historical and ideological reasons, in the corresponding issues pertaining to metropolitan sarcophagi, which has been seeing a great upsurge in recent years[13]. Of course, one might reasonably argue that, in terms of the general interpretative framework of mythological depictions, there is no absolute distinction between the metropolitan sarcophagi and those coming from Greek-speaking regions of the Empire. Indeed, this seems to hold true, broadly speaking[14], since in some cases there are very close iconographic relations between these disparate groups[15]. Nevertheless, it is certain that Attic sarcophagi differ significantly from those of Rome, both in terms of selection of mythological topics and individual scenes and in terms of how the episodes are narrated[16]. Therefore, it is necessary to address Attic sarcophagi as the works of a self-contained group with completely discrete characteristics, both in terms of the selection and processing of myths and in terms of the conception and structure of relief compositions.

5It is therefore noteworthy that, over the last 25 years, Björn Ewald focused intensely on Attic sarcophagi and provided us with a series of remarkable studies thereon. His purpose was to interpret the phenomenon of their broad dissemination throughout the Roman Empire and to highlight their differences of all kinds from the corresponding works of Rome and, in particular, the different ideological background of their depictions and their intended objectives[17]. In this context, we will have the opportunity to discuss these views in detail.

6According to statistical data, the sarcophagi produced by Attic workshops are characterised by ›universality‹, as they circulated throughout the Mediterranean[18] and became much sought-after by the social strata of the Roman Empire with the financial means to obtain them[19]. Despite the fact that genuine Attic sarcophagi were produced exclusively and in their final form by Athenian workshops[20], 65 % of them were intended to be traded, in contrast to sarcophagi produced in Rome and in Dokimeion /Phrygia, of which only 3 % and 13 %, respectively, were exported[21]. The broad dissemination of Attic sarcophagi raises two reasonable, closely linked questions: 1. The reasons for this phenomenon, when examined from the perspective of the recipients of the products, i. e. which features make them so attractive to purchasers; and 2. how Attic workshops, in turn, managed to win over prospective purchasers by dynamically penetrating the markets of so extensive a region, with cities characterised by a largely heterogeneous cultural background and varying beliefs with regards to burial customs and worship of the dead[22]. Similar questions concerning the high demand for corresponding products of Rome, in the capital itself, appear easier to answer. In other words, we can comprehend how the purchasing public would influence not only the development of products produced by workshops in the city and its broader region, but also, to a certain extent, the kind of sarcophagi imported there, i. e. with regard to the workshops of origin and the themes on the sarcophagi. Despite their diversity in terms of social status, Roman patrons-purchasers[23] would make – possibly due to the self-evident competitiveness developing in the specific context of the city – broadly common choices when obtaining these costly funerary monuments[24].

7The questions we raised above are primarily answered by the reputation of Attic workshops and the indisputable value of Athenian sculptures, which include Attic sarcophagi. It is without question that purchasers wished to acquire these luxuriously crafted products, carved out of white Pentelic marble by highly skilled sculptors, possessing exquisite architectural form that was successfully underlined by their elaborate decorative elements[25]. Moreover, one should consider that their relief decoration, particularly the figurative, along all four sides of the chest[26], constituted an equally important parameter of the value of the overall monument that accounted for a significant portion of the popularity of these works. Acknowledging the importance of relief depictions for purchasers, Ewald attributed the commercial success of these Attic products to what he calls the retrospective or »anachronistic« imagery of their themes, i. e. alluding to the past of Athens and constituting an ›epiphenomenon‹ of the ›Second Sophistic‹. In other words, the myths they would depict would be mostly addressed to the members of the educated social elite of the era, who had espoused the ideas and values put forth by the ›Second Sophistic‹; more specifically, they would visualise the concept of ›Greekness‹ in terms of cultural identity. Furthermore, according to Ewald, these products, like other expressions of Athenian culture, partook »in a broader marketing and selling of a Greek ›cultural identity‹ that had become a profitable enterprise in the imperial period«[27]. If the themes of these funerary monuments are indeed of an »anachronistic« nature and if, by extension, they allude to the Greek cultural identity, these are issues we will circle back to, after focusing on the difficult task of iconographic analysis and interpretation of the mythological scenes themselves.

8How were the works widely promoted in markets along with the ideas they expressed? In other words, precisely which themes were selected and according to which criteria? Furthermore, how did the persons in charge of Attic workshops manage them during the production of the works? These are questions that force us to examine the iconography of these monuments in detail and specifically, studying each thematic group separately. As I will endeavour to illustrate below, the Attic workshops’ emphasis on the selection and use of specific subjects of the mythical past and specific mythical heroes, combined with the narrative mode they adopted, cultivated over time and, to a point, established, most likely contributed to the tremendous appeal of their products in the markets of the Mediterranean. It can be no accident that the 1st half of the 3rd century A.D., in particular, was the most productive and most creative period in the history of Attic sarcophagi, with a corresponding boom in their demand[28], as will be shown below. Consequently, we can accept from the outset that the workshops succeeded in identifying those common denominators that handily and sufficiently expressed certain fundamental expectations of the buying public, irrespective of which part of the Empire they came from and the social stratum to which they belonged. If, as seems probable, financial factors also played a part in their dissemination, this is an issue that concerns each separate region or city, as the cost of transporting these massive products to their final destination significantly varied from location to location. Therefore, while the transport of Attic sarcophagi to Thessaloniki and other coastal cities was relatively simple, it was exceptionally difficult and costly in other cases, such as Bosra in southern Syria, Gadara and Philadelphia in Jordan or, to give an extreme example, Palmyra [29].

9Sarcophagi with sculptural decoration appeared in Athens in the late Hadrianic era, around A.D. 130 or possibly already by the A.D. 120–130 decade[30], under the influence of corresponding metropolitan products, as it is accepted[31]. The early production of this new category of funerary monuments is in line, in terms of its thematic, with the products of both the capital and Asian Minor cities, as the chest surfaces are decorated with garlands or Erotes[32]. During this early period, the products of Athenian workshops were already channelled outside Attica, reaching the Eastern Mediterranean, all the way to Antioch and Cyrenaica [33]. Subsequently, around A.D. 150 at the latest, workshops would adopt mythological themes that would become greatly popular throughout Roman territory. It is most likely no accident that around the same time (approximately A.D. 160), along with the evolution of the architectural form of monuments, a change would take place to the type of sarcophagus lids: in other words, the gabled lid is replaced by a kline-lid adorned with the statues of the persons to be interred in the chest[34]. Production of and demand for these products had already increased by the 2nd half of the 2nd century A.D., but saw a boom in the 1st half of the 3rd century A.D. and, in particular, the 2nd quarter of that century[35]. Over time, the mode of recounting the myths changed, to the point where, during the 1st half of the 3rd century A.D., a particular narrative mode had, in a sense, been established and left its mark on the physiognomy of almost all the works in question. During this final period, the products of Attic workshops virtually dominated the markets of the Empire, until the end of their production, during the A.D. 250–260 decade[36]. It should be noted that at no stage during their evolution did Attic sarcophagi adopt – possibly with very few exceptions – themes of contemporary life or clear allusions thereto, as was the case in Rome where, moreover, the phenomenon arose, mainly during the 3rd century A.D., to identify, in specific cases, the deceased persons with certain mythological figures by means of portraits[37]. Also worthy of note is the fact that in a city such as Athens, the depictions of philosophers or philosophising citizens – which are encountered not only in Rome but, as of around A.D. 180, very frequently in the columnar sarcophagi of Dokimeion – are completely absent from sarcophagi[38].

10Below, I will attempt to demonstrate how the change or, rather, the radical reformulation of mythological themes during the 3rd century A.D. corresponds to the gradual increase in the popularity and demand for these Athenian funerary monuments in markets and, at the same time, with the possible reorganisation of its workshops. There must certainly be an explanation as to why, out of the total number of extant Attic sarcophagi which, according to our current knowledge, were exported to the Empire, 305 belong to the 2nd century A.D., i. e. the period between A.D. 130 and 200, 200 to the far briefer period between A.D. 200 and 220/230, and 500 to the equally brief period between A.D. 220/230 and 250/260[39]. One might postulate that these statistical data reflect a progressive increase in the wealth of the purchasers of such products, which may very well be true. We should also not disregard a parameter related to the shift of rich purchasers in the 3rd century A.D. to monuments related more to the private sphere (the residence and the cemetery) than to their self-promotion in public spaces[40]. However, this raises a question as to why this financially robust clientèle, even in the eastern provinces, would so emphatically opt for sarcophagi produced by Attic workshops and far less for corresponding luxury products crafted by Asian Minor workshops, such as those of Dokimeion[41]. The latter, while more costly than Attic sarcophagi[42], could have equally attracted clients who spared no expense or at least claim a better share of the external market than the one they apparently held. It may be considered almost certain that they fell short, compared to Athenian products, not only in terms of reputation but also in terms of how the workshops selected and handled the iconographic subjects of sarcophagi. It should also be noted that between A.D. 180 and the mid-3rd century A.D., the mythological subjects depicted on Dokimeion sarcophagi subsided drastically[43], giving the impression that their manufacturers gave up on this market segment, which was dominated by their competitors.

11The association between Attic sarcophagi and the phenomenon of the so-called Second Sophistic that has been emphatically proposed[44], as noted above, offers a framework for comprehending these classicistic works; however, this framework alone does not suffice, in my view, to answer the questions we have raised. In fact, it is noteworthy that the boom in demand and the corresponding increase in the production of Attic sarcophagi, and the extraordinary creativity displayed in these creations, are identified during the late stage of this phenomenon and not earlier, i. e. during the 2nd century A.D., as one might expect. Furthermore, it should be observed that one might also interpret the aforementioned Asian Minor products and, in fact, those depicting philosophers or philosophising citizens in the same framework, i. e. that of the ›Second Sophistic‹. It is, therefore, necessary to take different paths in search of answers to the questions we have raised.

12Firstly, I consider it important to study closely the themes most frequently encountered in Attic sarcophagi in order to describe as accurately as possible how their visual depiction gradually transformed from their appearance in the mid-2nd century A.D. to the end of their production around A.D. 260. It is particularly important to accept from the outset that the structure of the representations and the emphasis placed by the workshops – obviously a conscious decision and, to a point, possibly expressing the patrons’ desires – on specific points of the narration, e. g. how the main figures of the myth are portrayed, are the cornerstone of their iconological interpretation[45]. This is particularly the case because we have no written testimonies at our disposal directly relating to these monuments. Furthermore, the few inscriptions found on Attic sarcophagi offer scant information on the deceased interred within them or on their purchasers[46], contrary to what is the case with other groups of this category, e. g. the sarcophagi of Thessaloniki [47]. It is therefore necessary to consider the testimonies offered by funerary epigrams, funerary orations and consolations, as well as literary texts, which document ancient beliefs on the significance of heroes as exemplars of virtue and of mortality (exempla virtutis and exempla mortalitatis), praise the deceased and, at the same time, offer some consolation to the bereaved family[48]. The iconological interpretation of funerary monuments is thus assisted by the beliefs expressed through these testimonies, provided the proposed interpretation predominantly begins from and is in harmony with the iconographic elements of each separate representation or at least each individual iconographic group. Therefore, a ›reading‹ as diligent and precise as possible of the elements which were selected by the creators of the compositions (i. e. sculptors, with the possible contribution of the patrons) is of the utmost importance in order for us to discover – to the extent that this is objectively possible – the links between them and propose possible interpretations[49]. However, we must consider that this method has its limitations, particularly given that one cannot rule out that the sculptors of workshops repeating a specific archetype interpret it ad libitum, intervening to a smaller or greater extent in this model. On the other hand, we in the present cannot categorically contend that these iconographic elements are subject to just one single ›objective‹ interpretation.

13I will begin with the myth of Meleagros, of which Attic artists mainly choose to recount the predominant episode of the Kalydonian boar hunt[50]. This episode either takes up just the front (Koch 1975, cat. 161; Piraeus, Arch. Mus. inv. 3484) or also extends to one of the small sides (Koch 1975, cat. 160. 166. 170); a further episode of the myth, obviously of a supplementary nature, can be added to the other small side (Koch 1975, cat. 166). We are presently aware of approximately 25 Attic sarcophagi depicting this theme in question, most of which in fragmentary preservation.

14Of the four (or previously five) groups in which the surviving examples were classified[51], I believe only three (groups I, II and III) can be considered certain at present. In my view, group ΙV, represented by a single example, the Split sarcophagus from Salona (Koch 1975, cat. 178) (Fig. 11), should be abrogated as will be analysed below. A fifth group, which had been hypothesised by Robert and initially accepted by Koch based on the small side of a sarcophagus in Chicago (Koch 1975, cat. 168)[52], should also be excluded due to the testimony provided by the well-known local sarcophagus in Arles that cancels this proposal (Koch 1975, cat. 159)[53]. Moreover, certain isolated examples display special features. The Delphi sarcophagus (Koch 1975, cat. 166) is a rare example of an Attic sarcophagus where the front depicts two scenes of the myth in which the main figures are repeated[54]. Finally, the fragmentary Patras sarcophagus (Koch 1975, cat. 184), which appears to display certain special characteristics as regards the types of the figures, is awaiting its final publication and restoration of its composition[55].

15Group I recently acquired a new example: the Piraeus sarcophagus[56], which is well-preserved, together with its gabled lid[57] (Fig. 1). It is clear that it adds a significant link to the iconographic ›chain‹ of the group, the oldest yet, as the work can be dated to around the mid-2nd century A.D.[58], possibly somewhat earlier, judging from the quite sparse positioning of the figures and its unadorned cymatia. The composition extending between two trees consists of just six human figures, in addition to the boar depicted on its right edge. The protagonists are positioned side by side on the left end. In my view, identifying the hero who is standing next to Atalante and is attacking with a spear while holding two further spears in his left hand as Meleagros, while not automatic, is most likely. The alternate proposal of identifying Meleagros as the chlamys-wearing man, who takes up approximately the middle of the composition and is positioned behind the fallen Ankaios, is at odds with the fact that he is a bearded figure. The proposal of identifying Meleagros as the young hunter directly facing the boar and ready to cast a stone at the animal is equally unlikely[59]. It is obvious, in my opinion, that the designer of the composition intended to stress the proximity of the two predominant and emotionally connected heroes of the myth: Meleagros and Atalante.

16This composition is then enriched with the figure of another hunter on the right end, behind the boar, as mainly portrayed in the well-preserved representation on the Patras sarcophagus kept in Athens (Koch 1975, cat. 160)[60] (Fig. 2). This youth is wielding a weapon in both hands, raised behind his head, and contributes towards balancing the overall scene, as he corresponds to the figure of Atalante on the left end. In all other respects, there are no significant changes, as the two protagonists, Meleagros and Atalante, retain the same positions they held in the left part of the composition. As demonstrated by the study of the individual types of figures, the workshop responsible for group I used as models works of the classical era, most likely Attic representations of the 5th century A.D.[61]. This composition, as indicated by the examples we have at our disposal today, is repeated identically, with no differences worthy of note. Its main feature is the symmetrical arrangement of figures, with little overlap between them, whereby the overall scene takes on an intensely classicistic character.

17A completely new composition is adopted by group II, which introduces numerous landscape elements[62] and was possibly designed at a different Attic workshop[63]. This group consists of two versions: on one hand, a counterclockwise movement of the action with the boar heading towards the right, and on the other, a clockwise movement of the action with the boar heading towards the left. The most important difference between the two is that in the first case the principal figure, Meleagros, who is more clearly discernible than in group I, is rendered with his back to the viewer, as in the case of the best-preserved example in Eleusis (Koch 1975, cat. 170)[64] (Fig. 3). On the contrary, in the second case, the hero turns with his chest outwards, as is the case with the best-preserved example, the sarcophagus from Arethousa , Syria, in Damascus[65] (Fig. 4). One might suggest that the second version is the correct one and might therefore identify it as the original creation, as Koch had assumed[66]. However, the new find from Nikopolis , unearthed in 2009[67] (Fig. 5), allows for a revised interpretation, particularly because this is an early sarcophagus dated to the 2nd century A.D. While it does not survive intact, its condition allows us to comprehend and complete the representation, which displays clear similarities with the much more recent Eleusis sarcophagus[68]: Meleagros, from whom only part of the left bent leg survives, stepping on a small rock outcrop, was fighting while facing leftwards with his back to the viewer. The hero, wielding the spear in a horizontal position, was attacking the boar. The examples of this group with counterclockwise motion, which display great iconographic variety, contain several differences regarding the position and motifs of the individual figures and landscape elements, i. e. the plants and the rock. Particularly noteworthy is the effort to lend perspective to the composition, best achieved in the superior-quality Nikopolis sarcophagus, where figures are positioned in such a way as to create circular motion around the boar. This conclusion is also drawn from the way the landscape elements are used, particularly the rock behind which the Dioskouroi appear, as well as Meleagros’ depiction with his back towards viewers. Therefore, the opinion that the archetype of this composition takes painting models into consideration appears convincing. In any event, the iconographic models of group II probably descend from the 4th century A.D., as also concluded from similarities observed with South Italian vase painting[69].

18Therefore, if the composition with the figure of Meleagros viewed from behind is dated so early, i. e. around the mid-2nd century A.D., we conclude that the reverse, i. e. clockwise composition with the figure of the hero positioned with his chest towards the viewer, is a more recent version. The Arethousa sarcophagus (Fig. 4), which can be dated more assuredly than the other fragmentary examples of its group, most likely dates to the 1st quarter of the 3rd century A.D.[70]. However, even if the date of the composition in question were to be proven, based on newer finds, to be earlier than the early 3rd century, I believe that the course followed is from the composition of the Nikopolis-Eleusis sarcophagi to the Arethousa sarcophagus. Apparently, the composition with painting elements of the earlier examples was not considered absolutely suitable for the type of bearing surface, a rather narrow frieze that requires development mainly across one plane, as well as greater clarity in structure and clearer depiction of the protagonist. In other words, the latter, according to the rules of classical art, should have been placed at the first plane, presenting his naked torso in full deployment from the front. Moreover, it is a rule in the recounting of classical works for the victor to head from left to right[71], exactly as is the case in the Arethousa sarcophagus. Additionally, we will see below that the particular promotion of the hero-protagonist is indeed a requirement in the recounting of Attic sarcophagi and was achieved increasingly over time.

19As seen above, the Nikopolis sarcophagus (Fig. 5) helps us restore the correct chronological relationship between the two variations of group II, of which the more recent in a way significantly ›corrects‹ the initial creation. The transition from one variation to the other must have taken place at the same workshop. This way, the artists achieved a composition which is, admittedly, more successful in aesthetic terms and which could convey the intended message to the recipient of the work more convincingly. However, the Nikopolis sarcophagus also leads us to another interesting insight. The new composition of group II is marketed at an earlier time, while the slightly older composition of group I remains in use at the same time, given that the sarcophagus in Athens (Koch 1975, cat. 160) (Fig. 2), is clearly more recent than that of Nikopolis, while the Piraeus sarcophagus (Fig. 1), which also belongs to group I, is older than both aforementioned sarcophagi[72]. We therefore ascertain an overlap in the use of different compositions recounting the same mythological episode. If groups I and II are indeed due to two different workshops, as we concede, then we can claim an indirect but not negligible testimony of the existence of two contemporaneous competing workshops. The purchasing public would indicate, through their choices, the course that production workshops ought to follow. The search for new compositions or new, better solutions for existing compositions, particularly during the 2nd century A.D., can be interpreted in the context of the so-called experimental stage of production[73], during which also improvements to the architectural form of the sarcophagi were continuously being attempted. This is, more correctly, a natural and anticipated process in the course of the artistic production of workshops that gradually applied more advanced and sound forms, while having a view towards the preferences of their customers.

20Over the course of the 3rd century A.D., the existing compositions recounting the Kalydonian boar hunt possibly became unsatisfactory. This is also concluded from the fact that, while the episode itself remained popular, as we will see below, the composition of group II with Meleagros viewed from the rear would be relegated, as indicated by the sarcophagus from Thessaloniki (Koch 1975, cat. 173) (Fig. 6), to the rear view, while a different mythological episode would take up the front. It is after all well known that »antiquated compositions« are often found on the rear views of sarcophagi[74], where they are executed summarily and in simplified form, with their carving left incomplete. Thus, over the course of the 3rd century, a new, completely original composition of the Kalydonian boar hunt appeared, one where Meleagros is depicted on horseback, heading towards the right and placed directly at the axis of the composition. To date, there are three relatively well-preserved examples (group III): one from Nikopolis, kept in Istanbul (Koch 1975, cat. 176), one from Thessaloniki (Koch 1975, cat. 175) (Fig. 7 a. b) and one in Liverpool (Koch 1975, cat. 177), in addition to a fragment in Sfax, Tunisia[75]. Of the foregoing, the Istanbul sarcophagus must be the earliest one, as the cornice of the chest still retains its canonical form[76]. Compared to the Arethousa sarcophagus (Fig. 4), it is stylistically more advanced, though, in my view, it is probably dated no later than the 1st quarter of the 3rd century A.D. Nevertheless, as their chronological distance is short, we cannot rule out the co-existence of two different compositions, the older one (group II) and the more recent one (group III) in this case, as well, at least for a time[77]. The Thessaloniki sarcophagus is clearly more recent than the Istanbul sarcophagus. It is an old find that was supplemented around the year 2000 with a new fragment from the right section of the chest that includes a significant part of the right end of the depiction[78] (Fig. 7 b). In addition to the body of the fallen Ankaios, we now also have most of the boar rushing to the left, towards the mounted hunter, as well as a dog curling beneath the heavy body of the attacking beast, as well as traces of the figure on the angle of the chest, from which it arises that this was a naked hunter striding to the left, in contrast to the Istanbul sarcophagus depicting two female figures in a rocky landscape (Nymphs or personifications?)[79]. At least, one more figure should be added in the space above the back of the boar, as indicated by the Istanbul sarcophagus. The same theme continues on the small right side, as evidenced by the preserved right limb of a hunter and the hindquarters of his accompanying hound, situated between the hunter’s limbs.

21Another major innovation observed on group III sarcophagi is the relocation of Atalante from the left side of the composition, where she was found in the depictions of group I and clockwise group II, to a position in front of Meleagros’ galloping horse. What is impressive is the fact that she is facing backwards, i. e. towards the hero, while she is moving to the right, as is the gesture of her right hand which she is not using to shoot arrows – although holding a bow in her left hand – but rather to point towards the boar. As for the remaining figures, while the three best preserved sarcophagi present several differences, both smaller or larger, in the motifs, these do not significantly change the overall appearance of the composition. However, it is obvious that the Thessaloniki sarcophagus, dated to the 2nd quarter of the 3rd century A.D., is superior in quality to the others. Its composition as a whole and the individual figures depicted are intensely monumental and impose themselves on viewers. Both the mounted Meleagros dominating the overall composition and the other quasi-statuary figures are highlighted in a manner unprecedented for sarcophagi depicting this mythological episode.

22In iconographic terms, the new composition of group III with a mounted Meleagros is, at first glance, inexplicable. None of the preceding groups had adopted this motif for the main figure, according to the tradition of the theme, despite the fact that hunters chasing the Kalydonian boar on horseback appear in several cases either on the front side, such as the hunter behind Meleagros on the Eleusis sarcophagus (Fig. 3), or on secondary sides, such as the Damascus and Jerusalem sarcophagi[80]. It is obvious that the talented creator of the composition introduced a new way to depict this scene that differs dramatically from the stereotypes known until that time. By abandoning the purely narrative approach to the episode, he isolated the central figure, bringing him to the foreground in a way that captivates the viewer. It is noteworthy that this creation differs significantly not just from the typology of the older Attic sarcophagi depicting Meleagros but also from that of metropolitan sarcophagi, where this hero also never appears mounted. On the contrary, one might trace a faint relationship with the metropolitan sarcophagi depicting a lion hunt, which are approximately contemporaneous to those of Attic group III in question, particularly since the mounted hunter is accompanied by a female figure similar to Atalante, albeit Virtus in this case. However, it is hard to accept that the Athenian artist was directly influenced by creations of the capital in which the general appearance is very different[81]. The evolution of Attic compositions indicates anything but approximation of Roman models; on the contrary, it reveals autonomy and creative imagination, but without abandoning the key principles of classicist art. On the other hand, the monumentality generally observed during the late phase of Attic production, as will be underlined below, should rather be understood in the context of a general trend of the era, which is identified in the creations of all three major workshops producing marble sarcophagi: those of Rome, Athens and Dokimeion. In fact, this trend concerns not only the representations but the sarcophagi themselves, which take on a considerable volume, grandiosity and, of course, space during the 3rd century A.D.[82].

23I believe the new composition depicting Meleagros on horseback (group III) was created in order to accentuate particularly his skill as a hunter. This view is confirmed if one seeks out parallels in contemporaneous works by the Attic workshops themselves. I am referring to the small group of Attic sarcophagi of the 3rd century A.D. formed around the well-known Budapest-Split example[83] (Fig. 8. 9) and depicting a hunt which, according to all indications, lacks any mythological content[84]. The hunt scenes presented in these works feature the intense presence of hunters on horseback, both on the front and the secondary sides of the chest. Although they use types of figures found on mythological sarcophagi[85], they are designed as standalone, independent creations that cast aside – clearly consciously – any and all mythological references. As regards the few to date fragmentary examples which have a faint connection between them in terms of the composition, number and types of the figures[86], no particular emphasis appears to have been given, to our knowledge so far, to the middle of the composition, in contrast to the group III sarcophagi depicting Meleagros. One exception is the rear side of the Budapest-Split sarcophagus which portrays, roughly in the middle, a mounted hunter galloping to the right, surrounded by archers chasing deer[87] (Fig. 9). The relationship between this depiction and the above Meleagros sarcophagi, as well as some rear sides of Attic sarcophagi depicting Hippolytos hunting a boar[88], clearly influenced by the former, is obvious despite the numerous individual differences[89]. Given our knowledge to date, we conclude that all these sarcophagi, whether or not mythological, originated from the same or very related workshops that influenced each other. The pioneering artist of group III most probably used the motif of the mounted hunter familiar from the above-mentioned hunt depictions who are bearing such motifs, but designed a completely original composition which, apparently, was favourably accepted by the demanding clientèle for Attic sarcophagi during the last and most productive period of these monumental works.

24In my view, the category of sarcophagi depicting hunts with non-mythological content should also include another relatively well-preserved example: the sarcophagus from Salona in Split (Koch 1975, cat. 178)[90] (Fig. 10). This mid-3rd-century A.D. kline-lid sarcophagus has much in common with the Budapest-Split group. At the same time, it enjoys a close relationship with the Meleagros sarcophagi, despite the differences, which is why it was included in a special group of Meleagros sarcophagi (group IV) as the sole extant example. The main figure, on foot roughly at the axis of the composition, depicts the well-known motif of a striding Meleagros, holding his spear at waist height, attacking the boar charging from the right. One might say that this is a developed version of the Arethousa sarcophagus (Fig. 4), with the addition of a companion on foot following the central figure closely, at a second plane, and two horsemen aiding the work of the hunter. The question of ›mythological or not‹ has been repeatedly raised with regard to this representation, and the answer has been affirmative. Not only Koch, who included the Split sarcophagus in type IV of the Meleagros sarcophagi[91], but other scholars as well hold the same view, despite the absence of two emblematic figures of the episode, namely Ankaios and Atalante[92]. While Atalante is invariably present in these representations of the Attic sarcophagi, Ankaios is absent only once, i. e. from the roughly carved frieze on the rear side of the Thessaloniki sarcophagus (Koch 1975, cat. 173) (Fig. 6).

25The Split sarcophagus depicts hunt scenes on all four sides. It should be noted that the hunt on the rear side is assuredly non-mythological[93]; furthermore, no figure definitively alluding to the myth of the Kalydonian boar has been identified on any of the other sides[94]. The motif of the protagonist-hunter alone, as well as the prey-boar, would not suffice, in my view, to automatically lead ancient viewers to definitively identify Meleagros hunting the Kalydonian boar[95]. Besides, non-mythological hunt scenes are known to us on Attic sarcophagi (or their imitations) already by the 2nd century A.D.[96] (Fig. 11). Moreover, because workshops very often use available figure types, combining them eclectically in different contexts, it would be impossible for ancient viewers (as well as modern scholars) to unreservedly recognise behind the types specific mythological figures without the existence of characteristic iconographic elements (attributes). The similarities with the fragmentary Gotha sarcophagus depicting a hunt where a deer is the prey on the left small side, also cast serious doubts on whether the Split sarcophagus depicts a mythological hunt[97]. The fact that narrative elements subsided in the 3rd century A.D., as we will see in the case of other mythological themes, does not mean that the scenes »lose their mythological nature«, i. e. undergo a »demythologization«[98]. On the contrary, the fact that, in addition to mythological depictions, Attic workshops concurrently adopted – albeit at a very limited scale – depictions that demonstrably lack mythological content[99] indicates that the myth never lost its dominant role as a carrier of messages in Attic sarcophagi. Consequently, we cannot accept that mythological depictions intentionally lack emblematic elements of myths that the viewers themselves had to suggest.

26In depictions of non-mythological hunts, the interest obviously focuses on the hunt itself and, even more specifically, on the hunter. As is well known, the hunt is part of the education of youths, as well as a favourite pastime of mythical heroes-warriors[100]. However, during the era in question, the particular importance and ideological content ascribed to the hunt – an old hegemonic habit – by Hadrian, the ›hunter emperor‹ par excellence, made involvement with it an indication of hunting virtue that is synonymous with military virtue[101]. Therefore, hunting is an activity appropriate for the elites of the era and, for the owner of the sarcophagus, proof of his aristocratic identity or, at the very least, a deliberate choice aiming at his social promotion. In this sense, we can speak of scenes of everyday life and concede that there is a somewhat clear dividing line from their mythological parallels: the hunter is not the mythical hero but the elite patron of the sarcophagus[102].

27Returning to Meleagros sarcophagi, what differentiates 3rd-century representations from preceding ones is not the elimination of recognisable elements of the myth but the shift of focus from the heroic episode as a story to the hero himself (or heroes, where applicable), i. e. a shift from the narration of the mythological episode to its own protagonist, who still unequivocally identifies as a figure of the myth. It is clear that this hero – Meleagros in this case – through his excessive promotion expresses more intensely than in the past certain general values regarding his predominant quality: his skills as a hunter and, therefore, his virtues in general. The phenomenon observed in Rome, i. e. personal promotion of the deceased by means of portrait identification with mythological figures, mainly in the 3rd century, is almost entirely absent in Athens[103]. On the contrary, in Attic monuments the mythical sphere is clearly distinguished from real life[104], and the emphasis concerns the parallelism of the deceased with the qualities and virtues of the hero who is the protagonist of each mythological scene.

28Almost as popular as the myth of Meleagros on Attic sarcophagi is the myth of Hippolytos, which was favoured by purchasers, particularly during the 3rd century A.D., when it was exploited in a variety of ways. During the 2nd half of the 2nd century A.D., a single type of composition was used, depicted with relative uniformity across the extant examples (group I). Two of these present the complete composition, despite the damage they have suffered. These are the sarcophagi in Beirut from Tyre (Rogge 1995, cat. 56) (Fig. 12) and in Istanbul (Rogge 1995, cat. 59) (Fig. 13). The composition featuring Hippolytos takes up the front, while the themes on the other sides bear no relation whatsoever to the myth of this hero. A third sarcophagus from Sparta , currently lost and known to us from Jean-Baptiste Vietty’s design (Rogge 1995, cat. 65) preserved only the lower part of the representation. However, this case concerns the rear side of the chest which, contrary to the two previous ones, is dated to the 3rd century A.D. Five more fragments of other sarcophagi have been assuredly identified as belonging to the same composition and offer relevant information that is useful in part[105].

29In contrast to the purely narrative nature of the early groups of the Meleagros myth, in this case the visual depiction, while containing narrative elements, is allusive to a certain extent. As a result, its meaning is not immediately comprehended, at least not by modern viewers, despite the fact that most of the figures are recognisable. As has been observed by previous scholars, the representation consists of two discrete sections, focusing on the two protagonists of the myth: Phaidra on the one side and Hippolytos on the other[106]. Thus, the left section depicts, from the left, the goddess Aphrodite and Eros on a high pedestal, already shooting his arrow towards Phaidra. The heroine is seated, with her head covered and bent and her right arm to her chest, palm open, perhaps in a gesture of internal pain or despair. The Istanbul sarcophagus (Fig. 13) features an additional figure: a young handmaiden with a melon coiffure, positioned at a second level, is standing beside her mistress. In both examples, there is a standing female figure behind Phaidra, grabbing the heroine’s left arm, clearly as a gesture of moral support to the lovestruck Phaidra; at the same time, the woman in question is raising her right arm above her head, dragging her garment along. It is noteworthy how her index finger is pointed, apparently towards the scene that follows. Her head, with a veil on her hair, is also turned in this direction. Could she be the nurse who gave Hippolytos Phaidra’s letter, or could she be Peitho, Aphrodite’s companion? Robert favoured the second view, noting that her physique is better suited to a young woman rather than an elderly nurse[107]. Moreover, we cannot ignore the fact that, like this woman, Aphrodite herself is extending her left arm, seen behind Eros, with her index finger pointed in the same direction. We should assume that both are pointing towards the right section of the frieze, where Hippolytos is the dominant figure.

30This second section is dominated, from the right, by the seated Hippolytos, leaning on his hunting spear and, at the same time, turned backwards, towards the axis of the composition. This is precisely where a small, four-column temple with a conical roof and a podium decorated with a leaf-bearing branch is depicted. A small slave is trying to pin part of what is probably a deer, of which an antler survives, to the small temple. This is the prey that the hunter Hippolytos is offering to the goddess he worships, the huntress Artemis, at whose sanctuary the scene is obviously taking place. On the right side, another slave is unloading a large boar, yet more prey, from a mule. The Istanbul sarcophagus (Fig. 13) features another figure on the right edge: a naked, muscular man in a statuary, frontal pose, with his garment draped around his left arm, tumbling in folds to the ground. As is apparent from the remains on his hip and the mule’s mane, he held a long object in his right hand which, considering how he held it, was probably a club[108] rather than a sheathed sword[109]. The usual interpretation of this man as Hippolytos’ companion does not appear convincing[110]. His clear separation from the other figures of the scene, his frontal, ›princely‹ stance and his richly folded, heavy garment, which does not resemble a hunter’s chlamys, suggest that this is an important person of the myth, most likely Theseus[111]. If this is true, the content of the image takes on a new dimension.

31The composition in question is most likely a creation of the eclectic style of the 2nd century A.D. and, in fact, was produced by an Attic sarcophagus workshop, as there appear to be no parallels in earlier periods of Greek art that gives us the whole composition[112]. However, this does not prevent us from reaching back to 5th-century dramatic poetry on the myth of Hippolytos. Elements found in the illustration indeed allude to the Euripides second play with this premiss – the only extant one – titled Hippolytos stephanias or stephanephoros. Robert, in the past, and Linant de Bellefonds, more recently, underlined the similarities between this poetic work and the later visual composition, despite the fact that this connection is lax, as they acknowledged[113]. This is to be expected, because, as we know, the visual arts portray myths without necessarily depicting certain literary models faithfully; instead, they set their own particular objectives in each case and follow their own rules[114]. The composition in question, as is the case with the play, features the two goddesses, Aphrodite and Artemis – one present in person and the other through her temple – who determine the action’s development. An important element in both Euripides’ play and our relief concerns Hippolytos’ offerings to Artemis and, in fact, the garland: »[…] plaited garland I have made, gathered from an inviolate meadow, […]« (E. Hipp. 73–74, Kovacs), which is most likely identified adorning the podium of the temple[115]. Even details, such as Phaedra’s stance and her arm held by the woman beside her, are reminiscent of the heroine’s words to her maids in the play: »Raise up my body, hold my head erect! My limbs are unstrung. Take my fair arms, servants!« (E. Hipp. 198–200, Kovacs). Shortly thereafter, the heroine asks the nurse to cover her head: »Nurse, cover my head up again« (E. Hipp. 243, Kovacs). Furthermore, we can support the identification of Theseus in the Istanbul sarcophagus on the basis of Euripides’ tragedy. In the prologue to the play, Aphrodite plots her revenge against Hippolytos and announces his death following a request by his own father, Theseus, to Poseidon: »[…] and the young man who wars against me shall be killed by his father with the curses the sea-lord Poseidon granted as a gift to Theseus […]« (E. Hipp. 43–45, Kovacs). Therefore, Theseus’ presence at the right edge of the scene could be justified as an allusion to his son’s impending death.

32While the representation on the sarcophagi embodies narrative elements, as it arises from the foregoing, it is clear that it is not a purely narrative scene – much less episodes of a ›continuous narrative‹, one succeeding the other, i. e. as is the case with metropolitan sarcophagi depicting this theme[116]. It cannot be comprehended as a simple rendering of the content of the myth (»eine inhaltliche Zusammenschau des Mythos«) either, as Sabine Rogge assumes[117]. Other scholars have interpreted the composition by considering that its two sections are relatively independent. Thus, Robert asserted that the representation is a single scene distinguished into two separate groups, and that the goal is to capture the character and emotions of the two protagonists who are presented not at the real but at the ideal level[118]. Similarly, Linant de Bellefonds remarked that while the two main heroes, Hippolytos and Phaidra, are included in a single composition, they are positioned in two separate, juxtaposed ›panels‹ in order to contrast their character and emotions[119]. Ewald follows the same general direction but attributes a broader meaning to the conception, going beyond the specific figures of the myth and interpreting it as the presentation of »the opposing male and female universes of values«[120]. However, in my view, it would be preferable, if we are to take into consideration the usual manner of narration of mythological episodes on Attic sarcophagi, as I believe is appropriate, to seek a common denominator that imparts unity to the picture, i. e. that conceptually connects the two ostensibly independent or juxtaposed parts of the representation. In other words, there must be a causal link between them, an issue we will re-examine below.

33The two best-preserved sarcophagi we referred to have been dated by experts to the 2nd half of the 2nd century A.D., a somewhat late date. While Koch placed the Beirut sarcophagus (Fig. 12) to the 3rd quarter of the 2nd century and the Istanbul sarcophagus (Fig. 13) to the final quarter[121], Rogge proposed even later dates, i. e. the final quarter for the first sarcophagus and the end of the century for the second[122]. However, based on the recent dating of Attic sarcophagi, I believe that these dates are no longer valid. Firstly, the Beirut sarcophagus, covered by a gabled lid, cannot be far away from the date of appearance of the kline-lid, which is around A.D. 160[123], on the basis of its stylistic features and how the figures are deployed in the field. The Istanbul sarcophagus, which probably featured a kline-lid, is stylistically more advanced. The relatively high proportions of the chest and figures, which, however, still display gaps between them and did not exceed the height of the field, would date this sarcophagus no later than A.D. 180. The extant fragments of this group should be delimited between A.D. 160 and 180, as indicated by the relationship between the figures and the cornice, small sections of which are preserved in most fragments. There is no indication at present that this composition remained in use in the 3rd century A.D., during which it was relocated, as indicated by the lost example of Sparta (Rogge 1995, cat. 65), to the rear side of sarcophagi that would be decorated with different themes on the remaining sides.

34Considering the above-mentioned, there appears to be a chronological gap between the early group we discussed above and the newer creations of Attic workshops, carrying over into the 3rd century A.D. During the 1st half of this century, these workshops processed the myth of Hippolytos into new compositions that share no common ground with previous illustrations. While we can easily group them, the relationship between them is somewhat tenuous. The commonalities mainly include their general characteristics and, in certain cases, some of the individual types of figures, particularly the naked hunters, but who mostly differ from each other, as they exhibit a variety of stances and details. It is noteworthy that the small sides and rear side of the chest are now used to present episodes of the same myth that complement the illustration on the front.

35The most substantial group is made up of three sarcophagi not significantly apart in chronological terms. These are, in chronological order, I believe, the chests in St. Petersburg, Agrigento and the Tyre necropolis (Rogge 1995, cat. 64. 47. 70)[124] (Fig. 14. 15. 16). The central episode in these sarcophagi (group II) is the delivery of the fatal message by Phaidra’s elderly nurse to Hippolytos. These two figures of the myth are positioned immediately left of the axis. However, it is surprising that the elderly nurse, small in stature and presented in side view, barely stands out among the frontal naked and slender figures making up a dense group of hunters on either side of Hippolytos: seven in the example of St. Petersburg, all save one positioned on a single plane, and three and thirteen positioned on two planes in the other two examples[125]. Most of the hunters are wearing a chlamys and are carrying a spear or club, while some are leading a horse. An additional indication for the unity of this group is the fact that in all three cases the two small sides of the chest depict Phaidra with the nurse in the women’s quarters (gynaikonitis) (Fig. 18) and Hippolytos falling from the chariot, while the rear side depicts a boar hunt[126]. I believe these are the creations of a workshop following an archetype – with probably superficial changes – that had possibly already been invented during the 1st quarter of the 3rd century A.D.

36A fourth sarcophagus in Tarragon (Rogge 1995, cat. 68) (Fig. 17), approximately contemporary to the two later sarcophagi of the aforesaid tripartite group, i. e. dating to the 2nd quarter of the 3rd century A.D., slightly deviates from the preceding sarcophagi. The axis of the relief frieze features an arched architectural construction supported on pilasters, beneath which Hippolytos has been placed, in a fully frontal pose, with two dogs at his feet, symmetrically laid out and facing him. The nurse remains beside him, but has been relegated to the background, to the point where she is hardly discernible. The small sides and rear side of the chest partly differ from those of the three aforementioned sarcophagi: the fall of Hippolytos has been shifted to the rear side, while the hunt on the right small side has been replaced by the prey being carried[127]. However, the scene depicted on the left small side differs significantly: instead of the scene in the women’s quarters, Phaidra is depicted standing on the left, accompanied by a single handmaiden, possibly with Theseus on her right, while the young man with the chlamys on the right leading a horse and with a dog at his feet is clearly Hippolytos, accompanied by a fellow[128] (Fig. 19). If the three central figures of the myth indeed coexist in this scene, then this may be an allusion to the tragic end of the tale, i. e. Hippolytos’ death.

37At approximately the same time as the appearance of group II, a different workshop, possibly a competitor to the aforesaid Attic workshop, adopted a composition that was different in terms of typology as well as meaning (group III). In this composition, Phaidra and her entourage appear on the front beside Hippolytos and the group of young hunters accompanying him. The examples of this group date from the 1st quarter to the middle of the 3rd century A.D.; therefore, one would conclude that groups II and III did not succeed one another but were used concurrently. In fact, group III consists of two variations: in one Phaidra’s entourage is positioned on the right end of the frieze (Fig. 20), while in the other on the left (Fig. 21), without this being the sole difference, even between the examples of each of these two variations.

38Thus, in the sarcophagi of group III, one gets the impression that the front of the chest ›conjoins‹ the two scenes of the front and small sides of group II into a single episode. In this way, the impression is given that the nurse’s erotic proposal to Hippolytοs takes place in Phaidra’s presence[129]. However, in the Beirut sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 57) (Fig. 20), which is the oldest of the group[130], Phaidra, who takes up the right section of the front side, performs a revealing gesture (anakalypsis), facing Hippolytos, who is standing to her right, holding the reins to his horse and turning his head towards Phaidra, as if conversing with her. A handmaiden positioned between the two protagonists holding a tablet above Phaidra’s shoulder but – it should be noted – with her back turned to Hippolytos. The nurse left of Phaidra is raising the veil on the heroine’s head while supporting her left arm. An Eros with a torch is standing next to the legs of the lovestruck woman. This is obviously not literally the scene depicting the delivery of the message. While we see the handmaiden holding the tablet, the impression given is that this is a wedding scene[131].

39The corresponding scene on the later Arles sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 50)[132] (Fig. 21) is found on the left end of the frieze. However, the relationship between the three protagonists is different in this case, mainly because the maid, most likely the nurse, is now facing Hippolytos as if conversing with him. The viewer is left to assume that this is the moment of the fatal revelation, despite the fact that the old woman is not holding a tablet but is raising her hand in a gesture of declamation. Phaidra appears to be withdrawing while bringing her hands to her chest, in a – futile – effort to hide her feelings. As in the previous case, the small, winged Eros, here resting on her knees, is holding a torch. Hippolytos, standing opposite Phaidra, is raising his right arm, palm outwards, as if rebuffing the nurse’s proposal, while his moving horse indicates that he is ready to depart for the hunt[133]. Finally, the Apollonia sarcophagus, also of a later date (Rogge 1995, cat. 49), is conceptually closer to group II, as Hippolytos and the nurse are relocated to the axis of the frieze, while Phaidra surrounded by her handmaidens remains on the left end, with her head turned backwards, isolated from the figures of Hippolytos and the nurse.

40The above analysis makes us believe that, contrary to the uniformity of group II, the examples of group III present greater freedom in the choice of certain important details, which lead to a different reading of the illustration in each case. There is also freedom in the scenes selected for the other sides of the chest. Of these, it is worth taking particular note of the scene with Hippolytos, possibly in a palaestra, on the right small side of the Apollonia sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 49)[134], and mainly of the scenes featuring Theseus on the three other small sides; the right side of the Beirut sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 57), and the left sides of the Apollonia sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 49) and the Arles sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 50) (Fig. 22)[135]. While they are not identical, they include, in addition to the seated Theseus, the standing figures of Hippolytos, Phaidra and, in two cases, the nurse. Conceptually, these scenes appear to be closer to the left side of the Tarragon sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 68), which, as we saw, depicts the three main figures: Theseus, Phaidra and Hippolytos[136] (Fig. 19).

41As the compositions we have examined clearly present significant diversity, I believe that only an overall approach to them would allow us to comprehend their character and correctly interpret the differences appearing over time[137].

42Firstly, returning to the earliest group I, it is worth asking the question of what ancient viewers mainly took away from this depiction of the myth. While, as noted above, this is not a simple narrative telling of the myth, its most substantive elements are documented in the representations in question. This is why we believe that the myth itself (in its entirety, in fact), as we know it from Euripides’ Hippolytos play, is present and allows for the illustration to be interpreted. Firstly, the presence of the two goddesses, Aphrodite and Artemis, who create the framework in which the action will take place, similar to Euripides’ tragedy, is directly or indirectly declared. Furthermore, there is a clear allusion to the close relationship between Hippolytos and Artemis through the connotation of her sanctuary and his prey-offerings to the goddess, on one hand, and to the hero’s contempt for Aphrodite, who has already targeted Phaidra with Eros’ arrows and putting her plan to destroy Hippolytos into action, on the other. Consequently, there is a causal relationship between the two ostensibly independent parts of the frieze. Finally, Theseus’ possible presence in the Istanbul sarcophagus (Fig. 13) suggests the impending conclusion, i. e. the death of his son, which he himself caused by asking Poseidon to intercede. Thus, the artist who invented the composition created an eloquent backdrop on which to present the cause of the drama and its outcome to viewers. The cause is the hero’s contempt for Aphrodite in contrast to his excessively close relationship with Artemis. This entails a harsh punishment, i. e. his death, as the goddess of love explains in the prologue to Euripides’ play (E. Hipp. 1–57). Artemis herself, addressing Theseus below, refers to this decision of Aphrodite: »Aphrodite willed that things should happen thus« (E. Hipp. 1327, Kovacs), she is therefore responsible for Hippolytos’ premature death. In a similar way, responsibility for the loss is attributed to gods or demons in epigrams and funerary orations, as in the case of Eteoneus of Cyzicus, the young student of Aelios Aristides (Or. 31, 13 and 11, 78)[138].

43In the subsequent compositions, the interest shifts from the myth and its connotations to the mythical protagonist himself and his qualities. Thus, the front view, particularly in group II, shrinks the most emblematic elements of the myth, and focus is placed on the protagonist, who is the figure most promoted. In fact, one would say that he is emphasised through the repetition of the similar figures of his fellow hunters. Their number and frontal, almost statuary appearance make it clear that the creator of the composition intended to promote and honour the hunting heroes and, in particular, Hippolytos, the hunter par excellence and beloved of Artemis[139]. The most eloquent example of this viewing of the scene can be found in the Tarragon sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 68) (Fig. 17). In this case, the intention to make the protagonist stand out exceedingly among his peers is evident through the highly successful use of the arched architectural construction, which ensures promotion similar to an exaltation or encomium to beauty, bravery, fortitude, i. e. the virtues generally found in heroes but also to the youth of the elite[140]. Moreover, Artemis herself characterises Hippolytos as right and pious (dikaios and eusebes, E. Hipp. 1307. 1309).

44While the mythological context is repelled from the foreground, I believe that ancient viewers continued to perceive the figures as mythical/heroic persons and, certainly, recognise the hero-protagonist of the myth. The almost complete absence of themes of everyday life in Attic sarcophagi supports the view that the ancient viewer-patron sought and was absolutely familiar with the mythological context of the image. Thus, the nurse delivering the tablet and the movement of Hippolytos’ right hand with the clearly negative gesture addressed to Phaidra’s messenger could not have gone unnoticed; they equally perceived the attributes of the hero, i. e. the horse he is leading by the reins and the hunting dogs. Additionally, the scenes on the other sides reinforced the mythological framework, indicating that the protagonist operates and is highlighted solely through this framework. The patron in particular and the viewers of the monument in general would not find it hard to compare or even identify in some way the person interred in the sarcophagus[141] – possibly but not necessarily young – with the heroes – hunters of the myth and, specifically, Hippolytos, who suffered a premature death.

45The fact that the mythological framework still retains its importance in the 3rd century A.D. is proven by group III, which is more or less contemporaneous to the aforesaid group (II). In group III, the gathering of hunters with Hippolytos at the centre continues to play a primary role and is depicted in a way exceptionally similar to that of group II. However, the scene with the women’s quarters, focusing on Phaidra, whom the hero-hunter prepares to abandon, is now appended next to the hunters. Hippolytos will abandon her and will then perish, as will she. At present, we cannot know which of the two compositions, group II or group III, is older. If group II is older, then group III, to which the latest preserved examples belong, may have been created in order to ›correct‹ group II, rendering the mythological framework more eloquent. In any event, this is not of particular importance, as the two compositions co-existed in a period of time, as noted above.

46However, even if we were to accept that the mythological ›shell‹ of the representation has been somewhat weakened in terms of details, to the point where ancient viewers would not perceive all its aspects, the myth would nevertheless remain the means for the transmission of ideas, i. e. would serve as an example in a way far more powerful than contemporary reality. In other words, the hunt and, more specifically, the hunter himself and his qualities are taken in by the viewers through the myth and not through scenes alluding to modern life. Ewald puts forth a different view in a number of his studies. According to this scholar, the predominant theme of the representations in question is the beautiful, well-trained male body, which is depicted in various stances and could be considered to serve as a model for the kalokagathia, beauty and moral superiority of young men and adolescents in terms close to the ideas of the ›Second Sophistic‹; furthermore, Ewald posits that the theme suggests the heterosexual relationship in the context of the gymnasium institution[142]. According to this view, we should accept that the myth is but a pretext[143] with no particular importance and, on the contrary, the depiction aims directly at modern reality and contemporary institutions. However, the image itself does not point to a need to refer to gatherings of athletes in order to discover ideas not elicited upon immediate perception of the image. In other words, nothing compels us to accept that ancient viewers, facing the array of hunters with chlamys around their chests, holding spears and clubs, accompanied by horses and hunting dogs, were directly and necessary referencing palaestra scenes and the institution of ephebeia. It is certainly known and particularly stressed by Ewald that hunting is among the activities of adolescents attending gymnasia; furthermore, the educational importance of hunting in general in the classical world is also known[144]. By following the aristocratic ideal of the age, an adolescent, e. g. Bacchon in Plutarch’s Amatorius 2 and 10, spends his time in the palaistra and hunting[145]. Hippolytos himself is not only a hunter but also a lover of sports, a quality attributed to both Hippolytos[146] and many other heroes[147]. It is possible that the – iconographically unusual – small side of the Apollonia sarcophagus refers to this quality of Hippolytos (Rogge 1995, cat. 49), which quite possibly depicts a palaestra scene with Hippolytos apparently holding a discus. This secondary and, to date, unique representation may, similar to the hunt, allude to his aristocratic activities[148]; however, it does not necessarily refer to the reality of epheboi.

47Therefore, nothing compels us to attribute to the creators of 3rd-century Attic sarcophagi the conscious intention to shift the viewer’s interest from the mythical hunt, the predominant theme, to the palaistra, from the mythical hunter to the contemporary ephebos-athlete, even if such associations may be created at a secondary level. Furthermore, we should also contend that beautiful, well-trained bodies befit not only youths attending the palaestra and hunters but also mythical heroes who, as is well known, are praised in written texts for these gifts[149]. Heroes serve as examples for mortals and are chosen as such throughout the period of 130 years of production of Attic sarcophagi in order to portray the beauty, bravery and moral superiority of mostly young men, as well as their tragic fate that befell them, i. e. premature death.

48Achilleus is by far the most popular hero depicted on Attic sarcophagi, as proven by the large number of examples where he is the protagonist, as well as the extensive variety of episodes from the myth[150] not encountered in any other mythological theme depicted on these monuments[151]. This superiority is magnified if we assume that Amazonomachy sarcophagi, in whole or at least in part, depict the Trojan Amazomachy where the central hero is once again Achilleus. However, we will revisit this issue later. The preference for the great Greek hero, »the most godlike of all Greeks« as he is characterised by Philostratos (Her. 685), is particularly worthy of note, considering that the corresponding group of metropolitan sarcophagi is much smaller in comparison to other mythological groups encountered in sarcophagus workshops of the capital[152].

49Priamos’ supplication to Achilleus, accompanied by the offer of a ransom in order for the Trojan king to collect the body of Hektor, is well established as a theme with a long history in Greek iconography[153]. Its dependence on the Homeric narrative (Il. 24) can only be considered in a general sense, as the details of the narrative are chosen by the respective creators each time. In the 2nd century A.D., Attic sarcophagus workshops created their own composition, grasping the theme in an original manner, without employing, to our present-day knowledge, a specific older model, despite isolated figures being borrowed from the pre-existing tradition[154]. Three complete and three fragmentary sarcophagi form a closed group with a common archetype which must have been created during the 3rd quarter of the 2nd century A.D. In my view, the dates proposed for the best-preserved examples from Tarsus in Adana, from Tyre in Beirut and from Ladochori, Igoumenitsa (Epirus) in Ioannina (Rogge 1995, cat. 1. 7. 12) (Fig. 23. 24. 25) are very late. In particular, the dates proposed by Rogge (at the last quarter of the 2nd century for the first – the earlier one – and for the second, and at the end of the 2nd century for the third)[155] cannot be accepted. Koch proposes approximately the same dates, placing the group between A.D. 170/180 and 200[156], while Papagianni dates it to A.D. 170[157]. However, I believe, the oldest example of the three, that of Adana (Fig. 23), must be contemporaneous to the Hippolytos sarcophagus from Beirut (Rogge 1995, cat. 56) (Fig. 12), which we dated around A.D. 160[158]. The Beirut sarcophagus, with its peculiar, flat lid, is certainly more recent (Rogge 1995, cat. 7)[159] (Fig. 24) and must be closer to the Hippolytos sarcophagus in Istanbul (Rogge 1995, cat. 59)[160] (Fig. 13). The kline-lid sarcophagus of Ioannina could be dated a short while later, around A.D. 180 (Rogge 1995, cat. 56) (Fig. 25).

50Despite their chronological differences, the three aforementioned sarcophagi (and the fragments related to them) can be considered as coming from a single workshop. This is evidenced by the close iconographic and stylistic similarities observed in the representations on their front sides on one hand, and the comparable themes depicted on the small and rear sides on the other. All three identically depict the mourning (prothesis) for Patroklos on one small side and groups of heraldically posed mythical creatures or animals on the rear side. They only differ on one small side, as the earlier example of Adana features a sphinx[161], while the other two feature themes relevant to the episode on the front side: the murder of a Trojan in front of Achilleus (rather than Neoptolemos)[162] and the arming of Achilleus in the presence of Thetis[163] (Fig. 26).

51The representation on the front views of these sarcophagi depicts the two parts of the mythological episode in a logical sequence: on the left, taking up approximately one third of the frieze, is depicted the unloading of the ransom arriving on a mule-drawn carriage; on the right, a smaller part depicts the scene of Priamos’ supplication, kneeling before a seated Achilleus under the – understood as invisible – presence of Hermes and Thetis. The individual issues have been frequently analysed in the past[164], so we will mainly focus on the section interpolated between the two aforementioned parts, where a third scene, at least ostensibly independent from the two preceding ones, is deployed: a two-horse chariot facing the supplication scene, with Hektor’s lifeless supine body lashed to its axle. It is being steered by a charioteer, an armoured warrior with a shield whose head, in three-quarter view facing the right, necessarily exceeds the field of the scene and projects on the cornice. A young man wearing a sleeveless tunic (exomis), obviously a horse groom, standing behind the horses and a naked muscular man in front of them are unhitching the animals while the charioteer is still holding the reins loosely.

52This unusual ›interpolation‹ of the chariot in the single episode of the ransom and the supplication caused intense debate among scholars, with emphasis placed on the identification of the charioteer-warrior. Although the chariot stands still, modern scholars are called back, at least at first blush, to the well-known scene of the dragging of Hektor’s body. Thus, Linant de Bellefonds, basing her opinion on the prominent position of the charioteer and the Homeric narrative, whereby Achilleus himself steered the chariot on this occasion, asserted that Achilleus is also the rider in the composition in question[165]. Rogge also adopted this view. If this were true, we would have to accept that this is the phenomenon of continuous narrative, well known from metropolitan sarcophagi[166]. However, this scholar’s explanation for the ›interpolation‹ of the chariot scene, i. e. that it intends to cover the gap between the two other scenes and, at the same time, serve as a reminder of the cause for Priamos’ supplication[167], is not convincing. More recently, Volker Michael Strocka has also supported the dual depiction of Achilleus, accepting that this hero appears in the middle of the representation »avenging the death of his friend, Patroklos, and dragging the body of Hektor, while on the right side he appears hesitant, showing compassion to Hektor’s elderly father«[168].

53However, I consider it impossible for the composition in question to be depicting the scene of the dragging of the body, which is transmitted to us as a separate episode in Attic sarcophagi[169] and is the principal means to express Achilleus’ vengeance. If we assume that the chariot is standing still and the horses are being unhitched, this automatically suggests that this will be followed by Hektor’s body being untied and transferred into the tent. It is also clear that the ransom will be transported as well and is, in fact, depicted in the field above the dead body. According to the Aischylean tradition, the hero’s lifeless body will be weighed together with the invaluable ransom, a scene depicted a few decades later on the rear side of the Attic sarcophagus at Woburn Abbey[170]. The problem may be resolved thanks to certain rear sides of other sarcophagi, mainly in Beirut and Rome (Rogge 1995, cat. 6. 24), where the depiction of the Ransom of Hektor omits Hektor’s body along with other details[171]. It is impossible for the dragging to be depicted in these cases, as also proven by the fact that in one sarcophagus, that of Beirut (Rogge 1995, cat. 6), this scene is portrayed as a separate scene on the right small side of the chest. Therefore, at least in this case, the interpretation of the charioteer in the rear side as Achilleus loses credence. Further assistance in comprehending the scene is offered by the metropolitan sarcophagus in the Louvre depicting the theme of the Ransom of Hektor[172]. A procession heads towards the supplication scene, headed by Trojans carrying the ransom in their arms, without the assistance of a mule, followed by servants who are also carrying Hektor’s supine body in their arms, with the tail consisting of mourners, including Andromache and Astyanax. In other words, all the elements depicted in Attic sarcophagi in a different relationship with each other are presented here, in the same procession, with greater clarity. Therefore, we can assume that the contentious scene depicts the transport of Hektor’s body to be delivered to Priamos.

54Based on the foregoing, we consider the presence of the chariot in Attic monuments part of a single, inseparable narrative. The chariot is not a ›foreign element‹ and does not interrupt the sequence of the parts of the frieze but is connected to them. In other words, it is the one section of a dual procession heading towards the protagonist, who is undoubtedly Achilleus seated on the right. The composition reaches its climax, in my view, with the impressive figure of the hero, his naked, brawny body framed by the rich garment cascading onto the seat. Consequently, the charioteer of the two-horse chariot cannot be Achilleus, but a different person leading Hektor’s body to its place of delivery. His position on the chariot does not make him taller or more imposing than the definitively identified figure of Achilleus on the right end of the composition; Achilleus is clearly represented at a larger scale and, if pictured standing, would far exceed the charioteer’s figure. It is noted that, contrary to the narrative of the Iliad, whereby Achilleus led the chariot with Hektor’s body bound behind it, when this scene is depicted in artworks, his charioteer, identified as Automedon, is usually pictured riding the chariot, with or without Achilleus[173]. Therefore, the most likely solution as to the interpretation of the figure at hand is the identification of the charioteer of Achilleus’ chariot as the hero Automedon, as he is called in the Iliad. He and Alkimos took Patroklos’ place beside Achilleus (Hom. Il. 24, 573–575). The two men yoked the horses together to join Achilleus in fighting Hektor (Hom. Il. 19, 392–395) and are the only persons present in Achilleus’ tent during Priamos’ supplication for the body of Hektor (Hom. Il. 24, 474–575). Finally, the same two men once more unyoked the horses and mules and unloaded the gifts from the chariot (Hom. Il. 24, 578–580). Therefore, I consider it highly likely that these two heroes are included in the episode of the ransom depicted in the sarcophagi in question. Automedon is most likely the charioteer of the chariot carrying Hektor’s body, and Alkimos is the robust naked Greek on the left end carrying a large krater, and is certainly not a slave[174]. The other naked figure with a similar physique in front of the horses yoked to the chariot could be identified as Antilochos, son of Nestor, who had taken on hereinafter Patroklos’ role towards Achilleus in the Aethiopis [175].

55It is without question that the key message transmitted by the above composition is Achilleus’ magnanimity. In fact, his averted head is most likely an indication of his effort to hide his feelings of compassion for the old king. He will doubtlessly follow the divine mandate to hand over the dead body which he received through his mother, as Thetis himself is standing beside him. Therefore, it is certain that Hektor’s body will be handed over, which is why it is pictured there, at the left end of the frieze. The juxtaposition between the beautiful, firm body of the brave Achilleus and the slim, rigid body of the deceased Hektor is striking, so that the contrast between life and death is automatically implied. Consequently, I believe we can claim that the reference to the mortals for whom these sarcophagi were intended was achieved in two ways: on one hand, through Achilleus, an exemplar of bravery, beauty and, in this case in particular, magnanimity, and on the other, through Hektor, whose tragic fate led to the loss of this brave man who was cut down in his prime.

56The composition of the Ransom of Hektor we discussed had an indisputably significant appeal among purchasers during the 2nd half of the 2nd century A.D., which, however, would significantly wane. Thus, during the 3rd century, it shifted with certain – often not insignificant – omissions to the rear sides of sarcophagi, as concluded from three examples where the front sides depict other themes that were more popular during this era: a battle on the Tyre sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 43; Kintrup 2016, cat. 260), the arming of Achilleus in the Beirut sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 6) (Fig. 35), which we already discussed, and Achilleus on Skyros in the sarcophagus in the Louvre (Rogge 1995, cat. 21)[176] (Fig. 33) – but we will discuss these themes below. Nevertheless, Priamos’ supplication appears once again during the 1st third of the 3rd century A.D., yet in a new, completely different form that is so far attested in a single example: the sarcophagus in Woburn Abbey (Rogge 1995, cat. 45)[177] (Fig. 27). The frieze on the front side now contains but two scenes: the supplication on the right part and the delivery of Hektor’s body which take up the majority of the frieze, while two warriors in motion are symmetrically positioned at the two ends. The delivery of the ransom no longer exists, thus contributing to the loss of the narrative character of the illustration and profoundly changing its goal.

57In the case of the Woburn Abbey sarcophagus, we observe the intention of highlighting specific figures in particular, as ascertained above in the 3rd-century representations of Meleagros and Hippolytos. I believe few would deny that the figure primarily highlighted is the armoured warrior on the axis, greater in scale than all other figures. In rapid motion, he pulls on Hektor’s left limb, who has obviously come loose from the chariot, with the charioteer, possible Automedon, preparing to alight from it. Therefore, the towering warrior is without question Achilleus himself[178], who is also assuredly identified in the supplication scene on the right. This scene has now shrunk to just two figures: the elderly Priamos, appealing to his son’s killer, fully covered by his garment, bent over and leaning on a staff, while Achilleus stands in frontal view, armoured and making an averting gesture. Nevertheless, this figure cannot draw the viewer’s attention as much as the warrior in the middle, who can therefore be only identified, as noted above, as Achilleus[179]. This identification of Achilleus is corroborated by the representation on the small side of the Beirut sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 6), where Hektor being violently dragged by his leg is depicted as an independent scene[180]. Therefore, the Woburn Abbey sarcophagus is a rare example of an Attic sarcophagus depicting different episodes in a single representation where the main figure is repeated[181]. These episodes are possibly not considered as having a strict temporal sequence between them, but are rather conceptually linked, as Hektor’s death is a prerequisite for Priamos’ supplication[182]. In my view, this is not the continuous narration known to us from Roman sarcophagi, where there is a temporal sequence of episodes and, therefore, repetition of the protagonist. In this case, we are probably viewing scenes with a symbolic character, through which emphasis is placed on violent death, on one hand, and courage and magnanimity, on the other[183].

58This so far unique representation is a tightly structured, symmetrical composition that can be considered anything but »the failed choice of a sculptor«, as it has been called[184]. The oversized figure of Achilleus on its axis, together with the diagonally positioned warriors at the edges of the chest, create a closed set designed according to the principles followed by sarcophagus sculptors during the 3rd century A.D.[185]. The creator’s intention is once again in this case to draw the viewer’s attention to the hero himself, while the mythological context makes up a necessary framework, but does not serve as a narrative object per se. The military supremacy of the burly Achilleus over everyone and his violent behaviour towards the killer of Patroklos lying at his feet are most eloquently brought to the foreground. At a secondary level, the reception of Priamos expresses a different aspect of the hero’s virtue, despite his initial hesitation: he shows mercy and magnanimity to the elderly king begging for his son’s body. In this case, too, as in the 2nd-century composition portraying the Ransom of Hektor, the merits of the hero par excellence are praised, with greater emphasis placed on him through his dual presence; at the same time, there is clear reference to the violent, premature death of the no less virtuous Hektor.

59In this context, we should also mention another sarcophagus from the mid-3rd century A.D., a recent acquisition of the J. Paul Getty Museum (Fig. 28). This is the first time a front side depicts a scene shortly before the procession of Hektor’s body around the city of Troy[186]. His body, lying supine and parallel to the ground, dominates the middle of the frieze, while the fully armoured Achilleus, with one foot on the dead hero, is moving diagonally away from the axis of the frieze as he is mounting his chariot. I believe that this is another case of juxtaposition between the dashing, powerful warrior and the warrior lying dead, who, in this case, mainly appears to be the centre of attention.

60In contrast to the Ransom of Hektor, the story of Achilleus on Skyros is not only unknown from the Iliad but appears relatively late in written sources and iconography during the classical era[187]. The depiction of the episode in Attic sarcophagi is attested, based on present-day data, during the decade of A.D. 170–180[188] and most likely does not adhere to an older model but is probably a creation of the Attic workshops of sarcophagi themselves[189]. A number of examples, including two fully intact, offer us a good picture of the archetype followed, with certain variations, until the end of the 2nd century A.D. As regards the oldest extant sarcophagus in St. Petersburg (Rogge 1995, cat. 28) (Fig. 29), it seems more appropriate to follow the dating suggested by Koch to the decade of A.D. 170–180[190]. While the heads of the figures cover part of the ovolo moulding of the cornice, its gabled lid is indicative of a somewhat early dating[191]. It displays the moment of Achilleus’ revelation by following a simple, narrative mode of recounting, with the episode culminating exactly at the middle of the frieze. That is precisely where Achilleus, still in women’s garb, is being revealed, with Deidameia kneeling at his feet and her nurse. Lykomedes’ two seated daughters on either side of them, as well as two other standing daughters, demarcate the women’s quarters of the palace where the scene is unfolding. Lykomedes himself is not portrayed. Members of the Achaian delegation appear at the left end. We are informed about these persons by the Scholion D to Il. 19, 326 and by Statius (Achilleis 1, 689–880). According to the former, the delegation consisted of Odysseus, Phoenix and Nestor, while according to the second, Odysseus, Diomedes and the trumpeter Agyrtes[192]. On the left section of the frieze on the St. Petersburg chest, it is easy to identify Odysseus as the bearded man with a cap (pilos), Agyrtes as the figure with the trumpet and most likely Diomedes as the man on the very left, who is beardless and is only wearing a garment wrapped around his hips. The very same composition was repeated in the fragmentary kline-lid chest, also in St. Petersburg (Rogge 1995, cat. 29), which can be dated to the end of the 3rd quarter or the early 4th quarter of the 2nd century[193]. Certain other fragments[194] attest to the popularity of this composition during the 2nd half of the 2nd century A.D. These images primarily highlight the military nature and, by extension, the heroism of Achilleus, who spontaneously leaves the women’s quarters and his beloved, choosing the fame and glorious death awaiting him in Troy. Therefore, the transition from peaceful life to glorious death is presented in light of the hero’s choice as an example of a virtuous life[195].

61The large (260 cm in length), likely kline-lid sarcophagus in Naples (Rogge 1995, cat. 19)[196] (Fig. 30) possibly belongs to the final quarter of the century and, as the sole exception, presents a slightly varied version of the above composition. The changes are seen firstly in the left section, where the pilaster, which in the St. Petersburg sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 28) (Fig. 29) formed part of the architectural structure of the chest, has been replaced by a door, which clearly delimits the space of the palace or, more specifically, the women’s quarters. Agyrtes is no longer portrayed. Of the three male figures pictured here, only Diomedes repeats the corresponding figure from the previous composition. Odysseus’ place has been taken by a different, elderly figure wearing a cap, possibly Phoinix, Achilleus’ teacher. Odysseus himself, a bearded man also wearing a cap, has been transformed into an impressive figure moving diagonally, depicted in three-quarters view from behind, in open stride. One might say that this is a figure almost equivalent to Achilleus, as he is rushing towards him, clearly in order to lead him to the Achaian side. However, the main difference compared to the original composition concerns the figure of Deidameia, who is now standing and moving forcefully beside Achilleus, grabbing his arm with her right hand in an effort to keep him near her[197]. Τhis motif οbviously succeeds in depicting a tightly knit pair about to be abruptly separated. The changes we described are hardly of minor importance, and could be interpreted as a redesign of the older composition. This is probably a new, ›corrected‹ version rather than a wholly new creation of a different workshop, as the same structure of the composition and the same types for seven of the ten figures are basically repeated. In any case, it seems likely that the artist wished to emphasise the relationship between man and woman[198] in life as well as possibly death. Even if the inscription on the upper part of the field, with the name Metilia Torquata assiduously carved, came from a later use of the sarcophagus[199], which is not necessarily the case, it refers to a woman that was possibly interred in it. The woman or the purchaser, who would have been a relative, wanted, for the purposes of consolation, to draw a parallel between her and her beloved husband and the mythical couple of Deidameia and Achilleus[200]. At the same time, Metilia’s musical education is paralleled with that of Achilleus who, together with Lykomedes’ daughters, is engrossed in music on the scenes on the right small side of the chest[201].

62The group of sarcophagi depicting this theme, as seen in both versions, probably reaches the end of the 2nd or the early 3rd century A.D., as indicated by the impressive, sadly fragmentary Attic sarcophagus from Rome in Copenhagen, to which also a number of fragments, now lost, belonged (Rogge 1995, cat. 15)[202] (Fig. 31). The kneeling motif of Deidameia, mainly, and the other figures confirm that the initial version of the composition was followed. However, in addition to the trumpeter wearing a crested helmet and with his shield hung on from his shoulder, two more figures have been added in the background: an old man with a long beard, possibly Phoinix[203], and a young man, who fill out the remaining gap in the relief’s field, as was common in Attic sarcophagi of this period. Additionally, the fragmentary frieze in Copenhagen attests to a carving quality that was uncommon in the 2nd century A.D., with intense plasticity of forms and masterfully crafted details. Certain typological elements that are uncommon in Attic sarcophagi possibly allude to metropolitan parallels, as noted by Rogge; however, in my view, they do not lead to the conclusion that the sarcophagus was partially reworked after it was transported to Rome[204]. Moreover, influences from metropolitan workshops were not unknown in Attic workshops and specifically those making sarcophagi[205]. However, in this case, the most likely scenario is that the sculptor was familiar with the most modern techniques of the metropolitan sculpture, as indicated by the extensive use of a drill in the two new figures in the background in which the hair and beard offered this possibility. On the other hand, the drilled pupil of the eye, known for decades in Attica, is depicted in the particular manner – with a single deep drill-hole – known to us from Attic works[206]. These elements and the high quality of work can be interpreted if we assume that this artist had already been involved in the construction of large-scale, free-standing statues. This hypothesis grows even more likely if we consider the monumental sarcophagi of the 3rd century A.D., which we will discuss in detail below.

63Τhe sadly very worn London sarcophagus from Ierapetra (Rogge 1995, cat. 17) (Fig. 32)[207] comes probably from a workshop different from the one that created the other sarcophagi depicting the theme. It belongs to the same period as the aforementioned ones and, despite the fact that it was found with a gabled lid, it had been designed as a kline-lid sarcophagus, as indicated by details on the chest[208]. However, its dating to the late 2nd century A.D.[209] is quite late and it should probably be dated earlier, possibly around A.D. 180. It is surprising that the two protagonists of the episode, Achilleus and Deidameia, are pictured seated, which, in my view, is intensely reminiscent of early Hippolytos sarcophagi (group I). Achilleus, in particular, who is turning his head backwards, towards Deidameia in this case, appears to be more or less the reverse of Hippolytos’ figure (Fig. 12. 13); however, two more figures have been added to either side, one of which, wearing a cap, could be Phoinix. One might say that Deidameia’s group with the nurse on the right section is a variation on the seated Phaidra in the same group and expresses a similar state: the psyche of a woman in great suffering, aided by her handmaidens. The left section bears a greater resemblance to the original composition: we identify Diomedes, this time leading a horse, Odysseus and the trumpeter Agyrtes, this time facing left. Another figure, difficult to identify, has been added between the last two, perhaps handing Achilleus his helmet. The fact that Achilleus, while seated, has already been armed – and is, in fact, holding a helmet in his right hand and has a shield at his feet – is incongruous with the episode. Once again, as was the case with the aforementioned Naples sarcophagus, we would say that the goal is to highlight both the hero and his female partner. In this case, the body posture of the woman and the movement of her head and arms are expressing her deep sorrow at the departure of her beloved, which is equivalent, both in terms of the myth and in actual life, to his death. Despite the poor condition of the relief, the atmosphere surrounding his impending death in fact permeates the scene.

64Having analysed friezes depicting Meleagros and Hippolytos, it comes as no surprise that a radical change also occurred in the early 3rd century to the conception and execution of the compositions depicting Achilleus on Skyros. We observe a dramatic shift to a completely novel way of depicting the myth, which may presuppose a new mode of organisation of workshops and reflects a new understanding as to the reception of the myths. As concluded from the extant Attic sarcophagi, the new conception of the Skyros theme elicited a great response from the purchasing public. It is mainly deployed on the front of the chest, but it often appears in shrunk form on the small sides as well[210]. At the same time, the figures themselves take on monumental characteristics and intense plasticity, standing out from the ground of the relief to the point where they resemble works in the round[211].

65The relatively well-preserved sarcophagi depicting this theme on their front sides cover a period from the 1st and mainly 2nd quarters of the 3rd century to the mid-3rd century A.D.[212]. In contrast to what was the case during the 2nd century A.D., no one could now indicate two examples repeating somewhat accurately all or even part of the composition or even including the exact same figures. This is also the case, probably to a smaller extent, with Hippolytos sarcophagi, where the uniformity of the naked heroes does not permit one to perceive the differences between them to any particular extent. One is given the impression that a skilled artist who had the initiative at the workshop developed a design that did not serve as an archetype, a model in the narrow sense that was the case during the 2nd century A.D. Sculptors who undertook the task of completing orders used it as a general guide, with the freedom to further process it on their own. This leads me to think that the workforce of workshops was made up during this era of sculptors with skills that exceeded their predecessors, as I also assumed above commenting on the fragmentary Copenhagen sarcophagus (Fig. 31). As will be noted below, I consider it highly likely that the carving of relief sarcophagi became the task of artists who had specialised in the creation of ideal statues in Athens. This gave a new, qualitative impetus to these marble products that decisively contribute to their widespread distribution to the markets of the Roman empire.

66A group of four sarcophagi corroborate what we assume about the working method of the workshops, since their differences are noteworthy, despite the identical synthesis in terms of basic principles. The earliest example of this series, a chest in Jerusalem (Rogge 1995, cat. 14), is preserved in a highly fragmented form, but confirms that the shift towards a monumental depiction of the theme had already begun by the 1st quarter of the 3rd century A.D.[213]. The chronologically more advanced chest in Ptolemais of Cyrenaica (Rogge 1995, cat. 22) is also fragmentary[214]. The two later, fully extant examples, dating to approximately the mid-3rd century (Rogge 1995, cat. 21. 24)[215] allow for more assured analysis. The Paris sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 21) (Fig. 33) presents a composition that could be called typical of this period. It is dominated by strict symmetry, with Achilleus, almost fully nude, taking up the axis of the frieze. Two naked warriors with horses on the ends, who are also encountered in other compositions, e. g. depicting the theme of Hippolytos, create a framework, as they are positioned so as to mirror each other. A similarly symmetrical positioning and movement can be observed in Lykomedes’ two daughters framing Achilleus, of whom the left one could be identified as Deidameia. Each is followed by a warrior, with the left one leading his horse, as well as certain secondary figures, whose heads appear in the background. Finally, two seated bearded men interposed between the central figures and the warriors at the edges complete this symmetrical design, as they are turned towards the centre of the composition. Their identification will be discussed below; however, it should be noted in advance that only one, the man on the right, has a ribbon in his hair and is stepping on a footstool. The absolute symmetry is somewhat mitigated by the figure of Odysseus – easily identifiable thanks to the cap – who is bent over, apparently in conversation with the seated man on the left end. Save for Odysseus, all figures without exception, even including the horses’ heads, are turned and face the predominant hero: Achilleus.

67In the sarcophagus from Monte del Grano kept in Rome, Museo Capitolino (Rogge 1995, cat. 24) (Fig. 34), the symmetry of the composition has been somewhat disturbed, despite the fact that the frieze is made up of more or less the same figures. To focus on the main deviations from the previous representation on the Paris sarcophagus, the right side has acquired greater weight – and possibly importance – as the right figure of the warrior with the horse has been omitted and greater emphasis is placed on the seated bearded man, again appearing with a ribbon in his hair, in contrast to the man on the left, and he is seated on a throne with an armrest and footstool. The figure of Odysseus is now positioned next to the enthroned man, but he is not addressing him; on the contrary, he is turned towards Achilleus. An elderly man with a long beard and a helmet or a cap, with just his head depicted between Odysseus and the enthroned man, will be discussed along with the identification of the seated men. The most important change occurs in the middle. Achilleus, slightly shifted to the right of the axis, is in intense motion, with his garment revealing his entire body. He is in an opposing relationship, creating a V-shape, with an axially positioned daughter of Lykomedes, obviously Deidameia, who is turned towards him. She is virtually the only daughter of the king remaining in this scene. Only part of another daughter is depicted in the background.

68A thorny problem concerning the iconography of the two aforementioned sarcophagi and the entire group they belong to is the identification of the two seated older men. The view prevailing in the bibliography is that the left man is Lykomedes and the right man is Agamemnon[216], despite the fact that the co-existence of these two kings is not attested anywhere. Furthermore, its acceptance leads to an odd, out of place interpolation of Agamemnon in this episode, which carries no meaning. However, are these two men indeed kings? In the Rome sarcophagus, the difference between the two heroes is glaring. The right man is seated on a throne, is stepping on a footstool, is wearing a ribbon around his head and is holding a sceptre. Furthermore, his height reaches the cornice. On the contrary, the man on the left is seated on a stool without back, has no footstool, is holding a sword in his left hand and is resting with his right hand on the seat. He is not wearing a ribbon and is significantly lacking in volume and, probably, importance. If the former were Agamemnon, we would have to accept that Lykomedes, in whose palace the episode is unfolding, appears far inferior to the commander-in-chief of the Achaians and exhibits no royal insignia. In the Paris sarcophagus, the difference is less obvious, as the two men, holding swords in their left hands, have the same height. Nevertheless, the man on the right once again stands out, as he is wearing a ribbon, is stepping on a footstool and is holding a sceptre in his right hand. For all the above reasons, I believe the man on the right holds a higher hierarchical position in both examples. He is clearly the master of the palace, king Lykomedes[217]. Of course, the identity of the second seated man on the opposite side remains a question. In my view, he belongs to the Achaian delegation which, if true, would contribute to the unity of time and place of the episode. Considering the information in the written sources regarding the persons participating in the Achaian delegation, we could propose his identification as Nestor, the most revered of all, whose participation is attested by the Scholion D to Il. 19, 326. The armed warrior with the horse in front of him could be identified as Diomedes[218], since Odysseus is in fact positioned behind him in the Paris sarcophagus. Finally, the old man in the Rome sarcophagus depicted in front of the enthroned king and beside Odysseus, who has been shifted to the right side in this case, could be Phoinix, whose participation in the delegation alongside Nestor and Odysseus is also attested by the same Homeric Scholion.

69Returning to the overall composition, we should admit that in both sarcophagi examined, the narrative elements have significantly receded in relation to the corresponding 2nd-century representations, but without disappearing to the extent where the mythological theme is unidentifiable. It is certainly clear that the women’s entourage has significantly shrunk, particularly in the Rome sarcophagus, and that emphasis is placed on the young men, Achilleus and the Achaians surrounding him[219]. Their naked, athletic bodies could therefore be traced in a broad sense, similar to Hippolytos sarcophagi, to the ideals of Greek culture regarding male beauty and bravery. However, nothing compels us to go far beyond this general insight, considering »that these reliefs are about the naked male body as the object of the male gaze – that is, they are about male desire«, and that the motif of older men observing handsome young men recalls the homosexual ethos of classical Greece[220]. On the contrary, all the young men are armoured warriors wearing helmets, save Achilleus himself, are frequently accompanied by horses and are portrayed in intense motion. I believe there can be no doubt that the atmosphere is martial and the heroic element is absolutely dominant. Their nudity – heroic nudity – is characteristic in the Greek world, as is well known, of mortals, who are praised and elevated through it, and of heroes and gods[221]. The athletic ideal is of secondary importance to the artists creating Attic sarcophagi[222] and this is likely one reason why Herakles was not particularly popular in this category of works[223].

70In my opinion, the climate that the creator of the composition in question wished to transmit by depicting Achilleus with numerous armed heroes of the Trojan War is one of preparation for war and is under no circumstances erotic within the meaning noted above. Nevertheless, we must not overlook an iconographic aspect of the Rome sarcophagus, i. e. the fact that Achilleus and Deidameia were positioned at the middle of the frieze and in a close relationship with each other. This does not occur in the Paris frieze, where the two daughters are shrinking away from Achilleus in terror. This difference is obviously not by accident and may indicate a ›corrective‹ intervention in the context of the workshop. As was the case in the older Naples sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 19) (Fig. 30), it appears that in the Rome sarcophagus, a more specific meaning is given to the scene. Amidst the military climate and the turmoil, the separation of the mythical couple is presented as a tragic incident that is most likely referring to the spouses being depicted reposed on the sarcophagus lid or to close relatives of theirs[224].

71The innovation and creativity displayed by Attic workshops is also evident in other sarcophagi which, based on our knowledge to date, are unique in terms of their theme. The difficulty we currently face in interpreting the two friezes we will discuss below is not due, as has been argued, to the weaknesses of their actual compositions. That they emerged, to a certain extent, from a combination of types already known to us from other compositions does not mean that we should treat them as the products of a ›merging‹ that was, in fact, unsuccessful[225]; on the contrary, this involves a new integration of figure types already known in a different framework with new significance.

72As regards the Beirut sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 6) (Fig. 35), dated to the mid-3rd century A.D.[226], there can be no doubt that it depicts the arming of Achilleus. This is the only Attic sarcophagus where this scene is attested on the front, while it is quite frequently found on the small sides[227]. As is the case with the frieze of Achilleus on Skyros, the framework is made up of two warriors leading their horses in intense motion on the two ends. We also see – albeit only on the left side – a seated man, a figure very similar to the one seen in the Paris and Rome sarcophagi (Rogge 1995, cat. 21. 24) (Fig. 33. 34). It should be noted that now he is the one with a ribbon in his hair, while the corresponding seated figure on the right is completely absent. Moreover, his right hand, which held a sceptre, is now raised. This scene is dominated by tranquillity, in contrast to the Skyros episode. It should be noted that in this case the latter episode, predominantly unfolding in the women’s quarters, has been shifted to the left small side of the chest[228]. On the contrary, the main frieze is absolutely dominated by the figures of warriors, two of whom are wearing cuirass.

73Achilleus is without question the central figure, placed in frontal position on the axis of the frieze, in a ›princely‹ stance, leaning on his spear and holding a sword in his left hand. It is worth noting that Agamemnon appears in the same position and a similar stance in the so-called Polyxene sarcophagus in Madrid (Oakley 2011, cat. 62)[229], which also depicts an assembly, this time between Achaians and Trojans. In the Beirut sarcophagus, the figure of the slave tying the belt on Achilleus’ cuirass assures us that this is indeed a scene depicting his arming. Thetis is absent, despite being attested in other scenes during both the 2nd and the 3rd centuries A.D. where the arming of Achilleus in Troy is recognised (Hom. Il. 18 and 19, 1–23)[230]. The possible presence of Phoinix in the relevant representations[231] does not, however, definitively solve the problem whether it is the arming in Troy or the one in Phthia[232].

74One other group consists of representations, always on small sides, depicting the arming episode from which Thetis is absent[233], and to which the frieze on the front side in question also belongs. However, it is uncertain whether this absence helps us determine the arming location. In these monuments, the only assuredly identifiable hero other than Achilleus is Odysseus, therefore this is a difficult question to answer. The fact that the arming scene often coexists on the same sarcophagus with the discovery of Achilleus on Skyros, whether on the front, as is the case with the Paris and Rome sarcophagi (Rogge 1995, cat. 21. 24) or on the small left side, as is the case at hand, and the use of certain common types of figures has apparently influenced the interpretation of the scene depicted on the Beirut sarcophagus. It was thus believed that this arming takes place on Skyros and that the seated bearded man is Lykomedes[234]. However, this seems highly unlikely, as the discovery episode itself, where Achilleus grabs the weapons brought by the Achaians and transforms into a warrior, means in itself the arming of the hero. Consequently, the scene on the front of the Beirut sarcophagus would, in a way, be repeating the one depicted on its small side. Therefore, I believe that here, as well as in all similar cases, we are viewing a later scene, which must be placed in Troy. In this case, the hero, having donned the new arms Thetis brought from Hephaistos, now appears before the Achaians’ entourage to announce, before Agamemnon and the other warriors, his decision to rejoin the war. In the Iliad (Hom. Il. 19), these two episodes, i. e. the arming of Achilleus and the gathering of the Achaians, are a precondition for each other. It should also be noted that in the depiction in question, the arming itself is not as prominent as one might expect, and the impression is thus given that the main theme of the frieze is the assembly of the Achaians[235].

75If we have interpreted the depiction correctly, then the seated king on the left in this case is Agamemnon and not Lykomedes. However, the bearded, cuirassed warrior standing to the left of Achilleus and facing him is also an important figure for interpreting the depiction. Save the beard, he is almost identical in appearance with him and quite imposing, to the point where we consider him his equal in terms of rank. The hypothesis that this is Agamemnon in the context of the Skyros episode (but who appears standing, in contrast to Lykomedes!)[236] is unconvincing, irrespective of our own proposal. This is because he is not wearing a ribbon in his hair, contrary to the seated man. The gesture of his right hand, placed on Achilleus’ shoulder as if approving his presence or amicably welcoming him to the Achaian assembly, is characteristic[237]. The figure depicted may be Aias, whose close relationship to Achilleus is well known[238], while the two bearded men wearing caps and appearing on the background on either side of Achilleus are Odysseus and, possibly, Diomedes[239]. Finally, the young warriors dominating the entire length of the frieze are certainly Achilleus’ Myrmidons.

76Following the above proposed interpretation of the Beirut sarcophagus, the depiction of the contemporaneous Tyre sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 42) (Fig. 36) becomes easier to comprehend[240]. One forms the impression that the scene on the latter has resulted from a processing of the previous composition with a view to further highlighting the predominant theme, i. e. the gathering of the Achaeans, and to create an image that is more monumental and, at the same time, easier to grasp. The arming of Achilleus is not even alluded to; instead, it has been relocated to the right small side of the chest[241] and only his arms lying on the ground are apparent, while the leading hero’s helmet is being held by one of the warriors off to the right. The figures of the horsemen are absent at the two ends, which may be due to the length of the chest, which is smaller by approximately half a metre[242], thus contributing to a more cohesive result. The edges are now taken up by the two seated men adhering to the type encountered in the episode of Achilleus on Skyros (Fig. 33. 34). The rest of the frieze is covered by an entourage of eight warriors, accompanied by two horses, who are mostly positioned in placid stances. Additionally, a trumpeter can be seen on the right edge, above the seated man. This type is known from the scene of Achilleus on Skyros, yet his presence does not suffice for the identification of this theme[243]. None of the warriors presents attributes that would lead to his identification, without this being due to the poor condition of the monument. However, Achilleus is unquestionably identifiable, as the themes depicted on all sides of the chest concern him. He is indubitably the central figure, duly displayed in front of a horse he is leading by the reins. He is depicted in almost frontal view, turning slightly to his right, where a young companion is standing, seen in three-quarters view from behind, fully facing Achilleus. Both men, in contrast to all other warriors, are naked, as their chlamys is tumbling behind their left shoulders, fully revealing their bodies. It should be noted that Achilleus’ companion has placed his right hand on the protagonist's shoulder, exactly like his armoured companion on the Beirut sarcophagus[244] (Fig. 35). This is certainly the same gesture of approval or friendship. These two men are clearly at the epicentre of the episode, and everyone’s gaze is turned towards them. The sole exception is the warrior with the large shield on the left, who is dashing towards them, but with his head facing backwards, towards the seated man, while pointing with his right hand towards the middle of the scene, obviously at Achilleus.

77If we are ›reading‹ the composition correctly, this is Achilleus amidst an entourage of Achaians[245]. The presence of the two seated bearded men – between whom, insofar as the condition of the monument allows us to discern, there is no differentiation – is in this case more comprehensible than ever before. Therefore, the interpretation proposed by Linant de Bellefonds is highly likely, whereby this is the episode following the arming of Achilleus, i. e. the reconciliation of Achilleus and Agamemnon before all the Achaians, as recounted in the Iliad (Il. 19, 40–237)[246]. Therefore, one of the two seated men must be Agamemnon and the other another important leader of the Achaians, likely Nestor. The young companion who appears to be welcoming Achilleus could be Antilochos, Nestor’s son, who, according to the Aethiopis, took on Patroklos’ role of bosom companion following his death; however, other close friends mentioned after this incident include Automedon and Alkimos[247]. Either could be identified as the warrior with the large shield beside Agamemnon, dashing towards Achilleus and pointing at him, perhaps conveying a message from the leader of the Achaians. Finally, the figure of the trumpeter is a ›loan‹ from the Skyros episode (since the creation of that composition is likely older), but has been incorporated into a new context, as the seated figures have been. This is quite possibly a symbolic figure expressing the climate of the war about to break out, as Agamemnon himself says: »Nay, rouse thee for battle, and rouse withal the rest of thy people« (Hom. Il. 19, 139, Murray 1924/1925)[248].

78Both representations – unique to date – we have analysed and interpreted promote Achilleus and his heroic nature to a superlative degree, while insinuating in an ostensibly tranquil framework the tragic death that awaits him as he joins the war. He is simultaneously the exemplar of bravery and a heroic death (exemplum virtutis and exemplum mortalitatis). No doubt these scenes prove the inexhaustible creativity of Athenian artists during the late phase of the production of Attic sarcophagi.

79Following the representations where Achilleus is the protagonist, we will turn our attention to the Amazonomachy scenes because, as we will see below, these probably concern the Trojan Amazonomachy[249]. This is the second most populous group of Attic sarcophagi after that of the Erotes and is significantly larger than the corresponding group of metropolitan sarcophagi, particularly when considering the total number of extant monuments from each workshop[250]. The friezes depicting battles are, due to their very nature, unsuitable for the creation of compositions that vary significantly from each other in terms of structure. Nevertheless, the recent detailed publication of the material in ASR IX 1, 2 allows us, on one hand, to make certain observations similar to those worded with regard to the previous groups and, on the other, to determine the different way they were perceived by purchasers in comparison to the other mythological groups.

80The earliest group of monuments (group I according to Carola Kintrup) most likely adheres faithfully to an archetype, as indicated by the relevant uniformity of the best-preserved examples in the types of figures and the way they are composed[251]. The earliest example of the group to date, the Louvre sarcophagus from Thessaloniki (Kintrup 2016, cat. 156) (Fig. 37), has now been dated to the decade of A.D. 160–170[252], or even around A.D. 160[253]. Two of the scenes on the chest serve as evidence for identifying the Trojan Amazonomachy[254] in this specific sarcophagus and, possibly, the group formed around it. The presence of Odysseus on the right edge of the front side and the pairing of Achilleus and Penthesileia on the small left side (Fig. 38) allow us to safely assume that this is the Amazonomachy in question. However, the individual figures cannot be identified in the majority of Amazonomachy representations, irrespective of group, which does not allow us to assuredly rule on whether we are always dealing with the Trojan Amazonomachy or perhaps another of the Amazonomachies known. Furthermore, the fact that Kintrup’s groups I, II and III (most examples of which are dated within the 2nd century A.D.[255]) differ significantly in terms of the types of figures and their compositions gives rise to the suspicion that, in certain cases, they could nevertheless depict the Athenian Amazonomachy[256]. While the use of individual types is, as is well known, frequently independent of the content of an image[257], it is still worth noting that characteristic types of figures from the Attic Amazonomachy on the shield of Athena Parthenos are completely absent from Attic sarcophagi; on the contrary, they are found, albeit rarely, in fragments of Asiatic sarcophagi[258]. In any event, as regards the use of different compositions during the same period, we should bear in mind that other mythological themes, such as that of Meleagros, also present concurrent use of two compositions of the same mythological episode with marked typological differences, resulting from different archetypes[259]. As in that case, we are once again dealing with at least two compositions dating to the 2nd century A.D. with different types of figures and different characteristics[260]: one, belonging to group I, is simpler and more symmetrical, with clean outlines and an intensely classicistic style (Fig. 37. 39); the other, belonging to group II (Fig. 40), is based on more complex shapes with hard-posed, foreshortened figures, frequently seen from behind. It cannot be ruled out that, once again, these are creations by different Athenian workshops depicting the same mythological theme.

81A relatively recent find from a funerary monument in Cyrene , dated to the late 2nd century A.D.[261], reinforces the view that the workshops’ intention was to depict the Trojan Amazonomachy. It also depicts Odysseus, recognised from the cap he is wearing and, in fact, positioned at approximately the same location on the frieze where he is found on the Louvre sarcophagus, despite the fact that this composition deviates significantly from that one. Apart from this evidence, the question of the identification of the specific episode on Attic sarcophagi should be raised on a broader basis, i. e. it should be viewed within the totality of mythological themes that the workshops creating Attic sarcophagi were preferring over the course of their history. However, this issue will be discussed later.

82As is the case with all the mythological episodes of the 2nd century A.D. we examined above, in the case of the Amazonomachy, the narration does not display significant surges but is uniformly deployed from one end to the other. However, a number of individual sarcophagi dated to the 1st half of the 3rd century A.D. display groups that usually consist of two figures positioned on the axis of the frieze. Examples of group II (Kintrup 2016, cat. 82. 89) (Fig. 40) already portray on their axis a horse on its hind legs facing right and a warrior trying to tame it[262]. The centre is stressed even more emphatically in a number of individual sarcophagi, which depict a pair of opponents at this position. This is virtually the only element linking these works which, in all other respects, constitute independent creations with no discernible archetype, as is usually the case in the 3rd century A.D. However, even this pair, which appears to play a leading role among the swarm of figures moving freely across the scene, differs from case to case. At times, we see a Greek warrior pulling a kneeling Amazon by the hair (group K II: Kintrup 2016, cat. 78. 245)[263] (Fig. 41); at others, the Greek is pulling an Amazon on horseback by the hair (group K IV and K III: Kintrup 2016, cat. 141[264]; see also the Cyrene sarcophagus); in other cases, we see a figure on horseback, either a Greek or an Amazon, positioned precisely at the axis attacking his or her opponent (Kintrup 2016, cat. 130. 247); or two pairs, consisting of one opponent on horseback and the other on foot, in a centrifugal motion away from the axis (Kintrup 2016, cat. 112). Finally, there is a singular case of a group positioned at the axis, consisting of two naked Greek warriors, with one aiding his wounded companion (the so-called Helfergruppe, type H II: Kintrup 2016, cat. 259) (Fig. 42). It is worth noting that a similar pair (Kintrup type H III) appears on the left end of the Cyrene sarcophagus immediately after the trumpeter figure[265]. The warrior carrying his companion is a particularly impressive figure, standing out from the crowd and is reminiscent of Menelaos carrying the body of Patroklos in the so-called Pasquino group[266]. Achilleus himself is the warrior on the axis of the frieze about to strike a blow against the Amazon on horseback by pulling her by the hair[267].

83While these last sarcophagi mostly belong to the 2nd quarter of and mid-3rd century A.D., the protagonist does not duly emerge from the din of battle, i. e. does not stand out as emphatically as in other mythological groups. This is clear mainly from a comparison to Meleagros sarcophagi, which are thematically closer to those of the Amazonomachy. This observation can be leveraged if combined with two additional facts: a) that artists rarely or exceptionally identified Amazonomachy protagonists; and b) that the group of Athenian Amazonomachy sarcophagi is, as noted above, particularly populous. Thus, the question arises as to if and how these facts correlate to each other.

84Before further analysing the works, I would briefly focus on a somewhat important dating issue because it allows us to more correctly assess the relationship observed between early Athenian Amazonomachy sarcophagi and a group of also early metropolitan sarcophagi with the same theme. The similarities between the two groups raised a question about the priority of one workshop or the other regarding the creation of the fighting groups attested therein. Taking the older late dating of the beginning of the Attic kline-lid sarcophagi to around A.D. 180 into consideration, Dagmar Grassinger attributed precedence to the Roman workshop[268]. More recently, Christian Russenberger, who did ultimately accept the dating of the Attic kline-lid sarcophagus in the Louvre from Thessaloniki to A.D. 160–170, did not categorically attribute precedence regarding the above case to Athens. Nevertheless, he considered likely the existence of an older Attic model on which both the metropolitan monuments and the Louvre sarcophagus depend[269]. A more recent finding from Nikopolis has come to provide a definitive answer, in my view, to this problem. It belongs to a relatively rare type of a flat Attic sarcophagus lid and retains the left part of a relief frieze depicting an Amazonomachy[270] (Fig. 43). The three surviving figures are repeating types known from the Louvre chest and, more specifically: a) group K I of the warrior with his rear to the viewer, pulling a kneeling Amazon by her hair; and b) the attacking Amazon from group K XIV, on her own, i. e. without the horse and the upper section of the warrior facing her on the Louvre sarcophagus[271] (Fig. 37). As a result, this last Amazon depicted on the Nikopolis lid is dashing towards group K I, clearly in aid of her fallen companion. Furthermore, another figure who, in the frieze of the Louvre, appears in the first level ahead of the figures of group K XIV, is absent: the Greek warrior G I, who is fallen on his knees, with his body almost horizontal. As a result of the above, the Nikopolis lid depicts a concise composition of sparsely positioned figures deployed on only two (and not four) planes. If we consider the early – in relation to the kline-lid – form of the lid[272] and the frugal composition and style of the figures, rendered with clear outlines and in relatively flat relief, I believe we would easily conclude a dating certainly earlier than that of the Louvre sarcophagus from Thessaloniki, most possibly around A.D. 150[273]. This dating is in line with the appearance of the other mythological subjects on Attic sarcophagi around the mid-2nd century A.D.

85This conclusion leaves no room for doubt as to the precedence of the Athenian Amazonomachy sarcophagi over the metropolitan ones with regard to the types of early figural groups mentioned[274]. The extant metropolitan parallels, i. e. the sarcophagi of the Mantua-Paris and Berlin-Rome group[275] (Fig. 44), attest that they took into consideration the composition known to us from the Thessaloniki sarcophagus in the Louvre and, therefore, that they depend on the same archetype. According to Russenberger, the Louvre sarcophagus and other examples related to it, i. e. those of Athens (Fig. 39), on one hand, and those of Rome, on the other, are part of an evolutionary series which the scholar ›constructs‹ on a complex method that requires continuous, mutual exchange of types between the two workshops[276]. However, I believe there is a simpler and safer way to interpret the relationship between Athenian and metropolitan works. In other words, it seems highly likely that the processing of the composition of the Louvre-Athens group 1147 (Kintrup 2016, cat. 54. 156) (Fig. 37. 39) resulted, shortly thereafter, in the representations on the metropolitan sarcophagi classified in the Mantua-Paris and Berlin-Rome groups (Fig. 44). Let us focus on the better-preserved sarcophagus of Mantua: the left section of the Athenian composition remained unchanged, even including the warrior of group K I depicted from the rear. Its middle section, i. e. the Amazon dismounting from her kneeling horse and her opponent (group K XI), were relocated and took up the right end of the new composition. In the Mantua frieze, between these two sections, two groups and one dead Amazon from other Attic compositions were added: a) group Κ V with the fallen horse and the Amazon in a defensive posture, her cuirassed opponent pressing on the horse’s hindquarters with his knee, a motif from the composition of Attic group III (e. g. Kintrup 2016, cat. 60. 154); b) the mounted Amazon facing backwards (type S I) to help her companion while being attacked from the front by a Greek warrior with his rear towards the viewer (a variation of the Greek from group K I), also attested in the composition of group III (Kintrup 2016, cat. 60), next to group K V, precisely as is the case with the Mantua sarcophagus; c) the supine fallen Amazon (type G VI) attested in fragmentary Attic examples (Kintrup 2016, cat. 73. 265).

86In the case at hand, it is clear, in my view, that this is not an exchange of types between the two workshops but the import of types from Athens to Rome – and, in fact, types originating from at least two different models[277]. It appears almost certain that one or more metropolitan workshops processed models that came from Athens. These were used to create new compositions wherein well-known Athenian motifs and groups were incorporated in a different way but without establishing a steadily repeating archetype[278]. Imported Attic sarcophagi may have been used as models, although it appears more likely that Athenian sculptors who joined the workforce of the capital’s workshops contributed decisively to these creations. Such participation by Athenian sculptors in the creation of metropolitan sarcophagi is well documented in the mid-2nd century A.D. by the well-known Ostia sarcophagus in Berlin depicting the mourning (prothesis) for Patroklos[279]. Both the types of figures and the particular style of Attic sarcophagi are easily discernible in this case, which preserves the typical structure of metropolitan sarcophagi, as does the group we referred to.

87We can safely conclude from the foregoing that, from the moment they began producing mythological sarcophagi, Attic workshops exhibited creativity and originality, as seen also from the study of other themes, drawing from their own rich tradition and following their own path, independent from the products of Rome; furthermore, they influence the corresponding metropolitan works to a certain extent, with Rome apparently attracting artists from Athens[280].

88What is of particular interest in the case of the Amazonomachy is the search for the content of these representations and the way ancient purchasers and viewers of the monuments perceived them. We previously referred to specific characteristics they display that differ from those of other Athenian mythological sarcophagi: the absence (or rarity) of identifiers of the figures and the lack of interest in particularly highlighting the figures of the protagonists. It is also noteworthy in cases when more emphasis is given to the axis, mainly in 3rd-century sarcophagi, usually by positioning groups of opponents, the warrior who prevails is at times a Greek and at others an Amazon. Therefore, we cannot rule as to whether the interest is focused on the side of the Greeks or that of the Amazons[281]. In other words, it appears that the theme of these friezes is the battle itself and the bravery of the warriors on all sides, not the supremacy of the Greeks[282] or, as is the case in a group of metropolitan sarcophagi, the defeat of the Amazons[283]. Thus, in the case of the Attic sarcophagi, although the Trojan Amazonomachy is possibly depicted, it is not deemed expedient to state this more clearly, as this battle, being part of the Trojan cycle, is the Amazonomachy par excellence comprehended almost automatically by at least the Greek-speaking populations of the Empire. Of course, we cannot rule out the possibility that Athenian purchasers understood these representations as depictions of their own battle, i. e. the Athenian Amazonomachy. In any case, the interest ultimately focuses on the fierce battle leading to the death of either the Greeks (men) or the Amazons (women). Thus, viewed from the perspective of the recipients of the sarcophagi, this battle concerns mortals in general, irrespective of sex or age. Therefore, the fight is not characterised as a personal tragedy, as is the case, in contrast, in metropolitan sarcophagi and particularly a 3rd-century group where the main heroes of the episode, i. e. Achilleus and Penthesileia, are, in fact, often bearing the portrait features of the owners of the tomb[284]. On the contrary, in the Attic monuments the theme has a broader symbolism: it conveys the inexorable struggle of man with his fate which cannot but lead to the end of life, to inescapable death, as was the case with all mythical heroes-exemplars used as consolation to the bereaved[285]. The concept of death is expressed very evocatively in the Tyre sarcophagus (Kintrup 2016, cat. 259) (Fig. 42) through the two warriors on the axis of the frieze, with one supporting the other – a unique motif in this position. It is reasonable that these compositions, conceptually general and appropriate for all circumstances, would find a response from purchasers throughout the Empire, possibly not just the social elites but broader social classes, provided they could afford them. One illustrative example is the aforementioned sarcophagus intended for a fisherman and a trader of porphyry, who grew rich from their profession[286]. It is no accident that the extant number of Amazonomachy representations, compared to those of other myths, in Attic sarcophagi is overwhelmingly higher even than representations of Achilleus[287].

89In closing this section, it is also necessary to touch on a closely related group of Attic sarcophagi depicting battles between male opponents, whether mounted or on foot[288]. This is another populous group, only slightly smaller in number than the Amazonomachy group[289]. The examples known to us stretch from approximately A.D. 170 to 260, based on current data[290]. The identification of the images as mythical battles is hard to dispute, as the warriors are mostly nude and rarely wearing a cuirass. Moreover, we would not expect contemporary battles to be depicted in Athens, while the Battle of Marathon, attested in two examples (Kintrup 2016, cat. 77. 162) must certainly be understood as a mythical rather than a historical battle[291]. An indirect indication of the mythical nature of the battles of this group, as noted by Koch, can be found in the rear sides of the Tyre sarcophagus (Kintrup 2016, cat. 260), depicting the Ransom of Hektor[292]. These are most likely Trojan battles, although precisely which ones cannot be determined[293]. In the episode of the battle at the ships, which we will discuss below, the depiction of the ships and the distinction of the two opposing sides is very clear and leaves no doubt that this is the battle recounted in Book 15 of the Iliad. As is the case with the examples depicting the Battle of Marathon (Kintrup 2016, cat. 77. 162), where the warriors on both sides are clearly iconographically distinguished. On the contrary, in the group in question, no effort is made to identify the warriors, not even through their clothing; this cannot be by accident. However, the fact that the two groups of warriors are not differentiated does not hinder their identification as Greeks and Trojans, as the opposing warriors in the episode of the battle beside the ships (epi nausi mache) are depicted with the same features. With regard to the structure of the above compositions, in few cases, we see a single figure more highlighted in the frieze, such as the mounted and only cuirassed warrior of the 3rd-century Ashkelon sarcophagus (Kintrup 2016, cat. 31) (Fig. 45). It is clear in these sarcophagi, as in the ones with the Amazonomachy, that the interest lies in the battle and its general symbolism: male (without ruling out female) virtue, on one hand, and inevitable death, on the other. These are messages with content so broad that they can appeal to all recipients of Attic sarcophagi, in both East and West, and among all social classes, whether or not they belong to the urban elites. The issue of age and even of sex was likely not a problem, as bravery is a virtue also attributed to women and girls, as indicated by the parallel drawn between women and Amazons or even Achilleus himself[294]. In conclusion, we could claim that Athenian artists were able to elevate themselves, with regard to the choice of themes, to a level that exceeds preferences of a local or limited range[295] and that promotes broader ideas addressed to the ecumenical space of the Empire.

90With the Homeric theme of the battle at the ships (epi nausi mache)[296], we return to the heroic subjects where one or more identifiable heroes play a leading part. There are relatively few sarcophagi depicting this theme, and most of the surviving examples are fragmentary. According to the indications available to date, it appeared relatively late, i. e. during the final quarter of the 2nd century A.D. The earliest group (I), into which most examples have been classified, continues to be represented throughout the 1st half of the 3rd century A.D. The second group (II) appears later, possibly before the end of the 1st quarter of the 3rd century A.D., and apparently became popular during the 2nd quarter of the century. The two best-preserved examples of the first group, the sarcophagi in Tyre and Damascus from Arethousa (Kintrup 2016, cat. 261. 84) (Fig. 46. 47), are based on the same archetype and, despite their differences, repeat the same types of figures. The ships with figures of Achaians on them take up the left side of the composition, while the main group of the two opposing warriors is virtually placed on the axis. In the Tyre sarcophagus, which is the earliest and possibly dates to the 1st quarter of the 3rd century[297], the elements of the landscape and personifications of the sea are shared between the two ends of the frieze. On the contrary, in the Damascus sarcophagus, all the marine elements are concentrated at the left end, as happens by analogy in its approximately contemporaneous Thessaloniki counterpart (Kintrup 2016, cat. 248) (Fig. 48), belonging to group II, in which there is a reverse array of all the figures and therefore the marine elements are placed on its right section. Consequently, the group portraying the warrior carrying his wounded companion, which in the sarcophagus in Tyre was on the left side of the frieze, is shifted in the sarcophagus in Damascus to the right side, in front of the horseman, part of which he covers. Another group of warriors is added to the right end of the frieze, consisting of one attacking warrior and his opponent kneeling in defence; a third fallen warrior appears between the attacker’s legs. The composition thus becomes far denser than in the earlier example in Tyre. The Damascus sarcophagus, like the aforementioned Thessaloniki sarcophagus, most likely dated to the decade of A.D. 230–240[298].

91Despite their differences, the Tyre and Damascus sarcophagi have one key element in common: the intense motion of the figures almost always depicted in side or three-quarters view and moving diagonally so as to compose an exceptionally dramatic scene. The central group, where the attacker is bending over his fallen opponent while he plunges his sword in the fallen man’s chest, draws particular attention. The composition is quite different in group II. In the Thessaloniki sarcophagus (Kintrup 2016, cat. 248) (Fig. 48) the group of the protagonists has become intensely theatrical, as both the attacker (who is, in fact, portrayed at a larger scale than the other figures) and the defender appear in frontal, statuary poses. Furthermore, the composition as a whole appears relatively calm, monumental, having obviously been impaired in intensity and narrativity compared to the previous ones. The same trend for frontal depiction is also observed in other figures of this frieze, even those standing on the ships. It is indicative that the two naked warriors of group I, one of whom is helping his possibly wounded companion board the ship, are depicted in an entirely different manner in group II. They are standing on the ship in frontal view and one is supporting from behind the other, his clearly wounded companion leaning on the ship’s curved stern (aphlaston). On the left side, the only figure of a mounted warrior in three-quarter view is particularly highlighted among the warriors on foot. The corresponding mounted figure in the Tyre and Damascus sarcophagi is wearing a chlamys so as to be unquestionably identified as a man. The mounted figure in the Thessaloniki sarcophagus who is wearing a short chiton leaving one breast bare and boots must also be a man. Due to his attire, scholars identified this figure as a woman, i. e. an Amazon, leading to the conclusion that the frieze depicts not one but two different mythological episodes: the battle at the ships and an Amazonomachy. In fact, the horseman, as I have also asserted elsewhere in the past, is a male figure, which arises from the well-preserved physique of the chest[299]. Its interpretation will take place immediately below.

92The two aforementioned compositions recount the same mythological episode. They portray the battle beside the ships of the Achaians, according to the narrative in Book 15 of the Iliad. The central hero is Hektor, since this battle took place for his own glory, in accordance with the will of Zeus. There can be no doubt that he is the attacker at the middle of the frieze, near the ladder of the first ship (apobathra). As regards the Greek side, the fight was clearly an excellence (aristeia) of Aias, who was fighting on a ship. Thus, Aias is one of the attackers on board the ships[300]. The battle carries over beyond the ships, onto land. This cannot be disputed with regard to the examples of group I; therefore, there is but a single, uniform narrative in the Tyre and Damascus sarcophagi. It would be odd if the designer of composition II were to fundamentally subvert its meaning and break it into two different episodes. The reason why the position and direction of the ships were reversed concerns the structure of the composition and the layout of the elements comprising it, and not its content. Thus, Hektor, the central figure in the middle, is moving from left to right, according to the ›rule‹ of depicting the winner[301]. Furthermore, were the figure on horseback an Amazon, this would depict an episode not recounted in the Iliad, since it is well known that the Amazons arrived to aid the Trojans at a later stage[302]. The garb of the figure on horseback who, as noted above, has been identified as male can be comprehended if we accept that he is one of the barbarian allies of the Trojans who fought on their side, e. g. the Thracians (Hom. Il. 2). We therefore reach the conclusion that nothing has changed with respect to the content of the composition at its reformulation. I believe that the objective was, in accordance with the desire of the creator as an expression of the requirements of the period, to highlight the principal hero of the episode far more than the other figures, in the way ascertained in other mythological compositions of the 3rd century A.D. This is another case where the narrative element of the mythical battle fades into the background in order to underline the figure of the protagonist hero, i. e. Hektor.

93We must admit from the outset that the issue of selecting mythological themes is one of the hardest to address in relation to understanding Attic sarcophagi. The classicism prevailing during the age of Hadrian and the Antonines is the context in which Athenian sculpture workshops began creating mythological scenes for these funerary monuments. It appears very likely that the idea of decorating chests with mythological images was adopted from the metropolitan workshops, regardless of whether this decoration adapted to the fact that Attic sarcophagi were seen from all sides. It is absolutely certain that Attic workshops forged their own path when selecting themes and scenes[303], which reflects their different ideological background.

94We would expect, during a period when Athenian workshops placed emphasis on reproducing works of the past, in sculpture both in the round and in relief, that the persons in charge would select scenes from the wealth of classical tradition and relay them by repeating them on the friezes of sarcophagi. For instance, one would expect scenes from the Amazonomachy to be attested on the shield of Athena Parthenos, which apparently had a significant impact on the clientèle of the time, particularly in Rome, as concluded from their reproduction on the ›decorative‹ relief panels of Piraeus[304]. Moreover, there are clear indications that certain scenes or figures from the composition of the shield were used, albeit rarely, on sarcophagi made by workshops in Asia Minor[305]. This was not the case, to our knowledge to date, with Attic sarcophagi, where mythological images, save certain types of figures or groups, do not follow classical models as a rule, nor themes that directly allude to the city’s classical monuments. Thus, for instance, the Amazonomachy scenes that adorn, as we saw above, a large number of sarcophagi neither copy nor freely reproduce older compositions depicting this theme, which were plentiful in Athens[306] but constitute obviously new creations by contemporary workshops that were invented exclusively for these funerary monuments.

95Even more noteworthy is the fact that the myths attested on Attic sarcophagi do not include any local Athenian myths and local heroes whatsoever, not even Theseus, as has already been observed[307]. Bearing this observation in mind, it might not be hard to explain why scenes of the Athenian Amazonomachy are also absent, i. e. the fight of the Athenians, led by Theseus, to repel the Amazons’ invasion of Attica. Had sarcophagus sculptors selected this myth, we could have perceived it as a reference to the high national achievements and the superiority of Athenians over their opponents, an idea that had already been established in Athens during the classical period[308]. In this case, though, there is no explicit allusion to this myth. Nevertheless, we cannot rule out that Athenian purchasers may, at times, have perceived the Amazonomachies depicted on sarcophagi as their own, local Amazonomachy. In any event, the compositions were not designed in a manner dictating such a viewing or interpretation, as not only are the relevant indications absent but, on the contrary and as noted above, there are clear indications, at least in several cases, that this depiction concerns the Trojan Amazonomachy involving Achilleus[309]. Therefore, we should not conclude that the use of myths in Attic sarcophagi is ›Athenocentric‹[310], nor contend that their depictions are related to the ideas expressed by the grand monuments of the classical past. In my view, the explanation can be found in the fact that sarcophagi themselves are not public but private monuments. As such, one would not expect their representations to aim at preserving the collective memory of the Athenians[311], as one might accept when discussing an era when the city was reminiscing about her past and, as in earlier times, continued referring to ancestral accomplishments[312]. It should be noted that other kinds of monuments were reminders of the glorious past of Athens, such as statues for great figures of classical Athens[313]. On the contrary, sarcophagi are monuments that concern a different ideological sphere and their mythological images mainly reflect the anxiety of mortals faced with death. Therefore, the myths selected must be understood in the context of the funerary function of sarcophagi and aim, first and foremost, at honouring the deceased of each family and consoling the bereaved. At the same time, these costly monuments project the affluence and, in cases, status of the family in question. Thus, those able to bear the cost of such a monument were interested in its opulence, beauty and material value, as well as the ability to express their grief at the loss of a loved one and illustrate the qualities and values held by their deceased relative. It has been rightly remarked that Athenian sarcophagi do not express individual emotions as forcefully as metropolitan ones and, therefore, no particular emphasis is placed on the grief caused by the death of the loved one in question[314]. On the other hand, though, the view that the tomb in Greece »becomes the place where the commemoration of the dead is combined with praise of the superior Greek ethos and civilization«, particularly in relation to the age of Perikles and his funeral oration[315], is utopian. I believe such an interpretation of private funerary monuments that were not erected due to war or other collective actions of the polis to be excessive and unfounded. There is no testimony, epigram or other written text that would lead to the conclusion that what mattered in the mythological imagery of Athenian funerary monuments during the imperial era »is less distinction and ›individualism‹ than the expression of shared and coherent beliefs about Greek history and culture«[316].

96The mere fact, as stressed above, that »the fight of Theseus against the Amazons, the first brave deed of the Athenians against foreigners« (Paus. 5, 11, 7, Jones – Ormerod 1926), which continued to be used during the imperial period as a political-ideological metaphor for the history of Athens[317], was not selected for Attic sarcophagi runs counter to the above proposed interpretation. On the contrary, it attests that there was no indication to elevate the iconographic theme of the Amazonomachy to a loftier sphere than the one expected of a private funerary monument and, as such, it cannot express a collective idea such as the supremacy of Greeks and Greek culture. I believe this is also the case with the Kentauromachy which, in addition to hunt scenes, is also attested on Greek sarcophagi as a battle between the Kentaurs and the Lapiths[318]. However, while it frequently and consciously functions in combination with the Amazonomachy in classical monuments, holding a commensurate meaning[319], we cannot claim that the same occurs on Attic sarcophagi, particularly when the Kentauromachy with the Lapiths, a rare subject, is always portrayed on secondary sites of the chest[320]. We must, therefore, conclude that the myths depicted on Attic sarcophagi do not allude to the city’s glorious historical past but recount heroic acts that are projected herein in order to externalise the needs of contemporary people[321].

97One might reasonably consider the Battle of Marathon a theme that directly refers to Athenian history – which, as we saw, is rarely attested on Attic sarcophagi[322]. However, this is also not a case where we should consider the theme a reference to the superiority of the Athenians over foreign invaders without associating it with the funerary function of these monuments and their owners. Given that this historical battle had taken on mythical dimensions in the minds of Athenians, it could well be a reference to the virtues of the deceased, precisely as was the case with other heroic battles. We can also not rule out the possibility that the selection of the theme was due to specific persons or families who intended this as an expression of their descent, whether real or presumed, from those glorious warriors at the Battle of Marathon in order to illustrate their relatives’ courage in the face of death. Promoting the descent of persons or cities from the mythical past for reasons of prestige is a well-known phenomenon also attested during the imperial era[323]. In any event, the interpretation of these isolated cases representing the Battle of Marathon cannot influence the interpretation of the large group of monuments adorned with Amazonomachy.

98Following an iconographic analysis of Amazonomachy representations above, we concluded that there appears to be no intention of underlining the defeat of the Amazons and, respectively, exalting the victorious Greeks. What is mainly conveyed through the most frequently depicted mythological theme on the monuments at hand is the hard, unrelenting struggle, the battle itself and the courage of the warriors, both men and women – a battle which, nevertheless, cannot but lead to death. It should be reminded that the Amazonomachy was long a key theme in Greek funerary art and is attested in important monuments belonging to this category[324]. This meaning of the myth, which directly addresses the tragic fate of mortals, can be easily adapted to any case and explains, on one hand, the large number of Attic sarcophagi depicting an Amazonomachy and, on the other, their exceptionally broad geographic distribution. Any subject of the Empire, whether in the East or the West, could be the recipient of a sarcophagus depicting this theme, as the myth of the Amazons is widely known and accepted – particularly, as noted above, in funereal iconography.

99Based on the above conclusions, we believe that the myths and mythical heroes preferred by sarcophagus workshops should not be viewed in the light of the Athenian past and the glorious history of the Athenians, which would not necessarily be of direct interest to every person in the Empire purchasing an Attic sarcophagus. Therefore, this is not »highly anachronistic imagery« in the sense of an outlook strictly oriented towards the past, the nostalgic shift understood within the climate prevailing during the ›Second Sophistic‹[325]. The phenomenon of the so-called Second Sophistic can be understood as a broad context in which not only are classical values and morphological means preserved or revived during the imperial era, but they also acquire new content[326]. It appears certain that at least in art – to focus on this area – the achievements of Athenian artists were not limited to ›sterile‹ repetitions of works from the past. On the contrary, they developed important initiatives in the framework of the classicist, retrospective trend of the middle imperial period. Thus, in the field of private portraits, for instance, we see works that allude to models from the past, without faithfully reproducing them, in Athens and other cities of the Greek world. In other words, these are new, innovative creations by noteworthy artists, such as many of the portraits of kosmetai or the portrait of Herodes Atticus[327]. The contribution of Athenian artists to this field has not been sufficiently assessed to date, which is even less true in the case of the mythological friezes of sarcophagi. While dependence on the Greek artistic tradition of the past cannot be denied, the innovation concerns the way in which the models were used without being copied, as was the case with other categories of Attic ideal works, but transformed with great freedom and combinational imagination[328]. The individual iconographic patterns and, in particular, the mythological compositions display originality and variety, particularly during the 3rd century A.D., which also applies, by extension, to the ideas they convey. It is, therefore, in these fields that we identify the achievements of Attic sarcophagi, the creators of which succeeded in expressing the trends of their era in terms of funerary beliefs in their own way[329]. On one hand, they invented new, original compositions to adorn a type of monument with no tradition in Athens, and, on the other, they endeavoured to align them with the funerary function of this monument that greatly differs from that of well-known, traditional tombstone, i. e. the stele. Mythological images co-exist with – but are not semantically related to – depictions of family scenes on funerary stelae of smaller size and value that were intended exclusively for the domestic market[330].

100As shown from the foregoing, themes and heroes were selected taking into consideration the funerary nature of the monuments and the need to express specific ideas concerning death and the deceased. The theme of the Amazonomachy best met these requirements, with no need to identify the heroes portrayed. As Achilleus, Penthesileia and other heroes of the Trojan War are rarely identified, it is clear that no particular effort is made to make the heroes recognisable. This means that the Amazonomachy could be comprehended depending on the identity of the recipient of the monument. It is possible that in these illustrations Athenians would recognise the Attic Amazonomachy, a subject familiar to them, while other purchasers would recognise the Trojan Amazonomachy, a larger-scale event in Greek ›history‹. However, this is not the case with other myths that are exclusively associated with certain specific heroes of Panhellenic range who must necessarily be recognisable. The preference of purchasers for these heroes obviously has nothing to do with Athenian history but with the attributes of the heroes themselves. This is why Theseus, the national hero of Athens, was not among the selected, appearing in certain mythological subjects only as a secondary figure[331]. On the contrary, they preferred a hero not specifically associated with Athens, the hero par excellence of the Greek world, the one called »the most godlike of all Greeks«[332]: Achilleus. In his dialogue Heroicus, Philostratos’ reference to Achilleus (729–752) is far longer than those to any other hero of the Trojan War[333]. He was given every gift: he stood out for his beauty and physique, the splendour of his arms and his hunting prowess; moreover, he had a surprising, almost divine figure. After all, Achilleus was the son of a goddess and had received specific education from Cheiron in throwing the javelin, running, as well as music and singing. At the same time, he was a terrible warrior, as brave as a lion, courageous and determined, as well as the most just of heroes, scorning wealth; in fact, he used his divine traits to benefit his friends. When he died, he was mourned by both the Nereids and Thetis herself. After his death, he was honoured like no other in the Troad and the Black Sea, on the island Leuke. Arrian also extolled the hero’s qualities, considering him the hero par excellence who left the life so young and was the subject of Homer’s poetry (Arr. Peripl. M. Eux. 23, 4)[334].

101Thus, the son of Thetis and Peleus was one of the most popular heroes, whose birth and death encompass an extreme paradox: he was given birth by a goddess, yet could not escape his mortal fate[335], as we are told by the funerary epigram of Epigonos from Laodicea on the Lykos (Phrygia) dating to 1st century A.D.: »even Achilleus did not escape Moira, even though he was the son of Thetis« (Müller 1994, 90)[336]. In fact, the same epigram contains another earlier reference to Achilleus, where the hero is cited as the slayer of Hektor, clearly in order to emphasise his enormity: »for neither he who killed Hector, the son of Priam, Achilles, [escaped Moira …]« (Müller 1994, 90). Therefore, the text contains both a clear reference to the implacable law of death that governs human nature, the only comfort being the certainty of its inescapability, and also praise for Achilleus’ prudence and divine beauty.

102All the foregoing explains why Achilleus is the most popular of subjects for Attic sarcophagus workshops which, as noted above, addressed clients spanning almost the entirety of the Greco-Roman world. There is another, no less important reason for this hero’s popularity: his premature death (mors immatura), making his fate even more painful. Achilleus is the best loved of heroes whose fate was an untimely death, and his name is referred to repeatedly as a parallel to the deceased in consolations, elegies and epicedia on the subject of premature death[337]. Therefore, he is considered the hero par excellence who suffered an untimely end[338]. Nevertheless, it is worthy of note that Achilleus’ death is depicted on an Attic sarcophagus but a single time: on the Polyxene sarcophagus in Madrid (Oakley 2011, cat. 62), on the right small side, in contrast to the scene depicted on the left small side, where Polyxene is being led as a ›bride‹ to his tomb[339].

103The latter is part of the various episodes referring to Achilleus[340]; however, many play a secondary part and can be found on small (or rear) sides[341]. Only three episodes play a key role and are usually placed on the front of the sarcophagus, holding a significant share in the total number of representations: the episode on Skyros, the Ransom of Hektor and the arming of Achilleus. The episode on Skyros, where Achilleus revealed his military nature, is the predominant episode and covers the entire range of production of mythological sarcophagi until the mid-3rd century A.D.[342]. Its most substantial element is the arms, which transform Achilleus into a terrible warrior and foreshadow his future death. This is, in essence, the arming of Achilleus, a subject also depicted, as we saw, on secondary sides of the chest, whether with or without Thetis, as well as on the front side of the late Beirut sarcophagus amidst the assembly of the Achaians (Fig. 35). As noted with regard to the problematic interpretation of the sarcophagus of the Albani Collection inv. 131, the transport of Achilleus’ new arms had already been included in a funereal context since the 5th century B.C.[343] and suggests the hero’s death. In the images we studied, Achilleus abandons the carefree, peaceful life among Lykomedes’ daughters, such as playing music, and dons his arms to hurriedly join the Achaians to be led to Troy and, therefore, his death. At the same time, this episode underlines his youth, expressly alluding to his premature death.

104The episode depicting the Ransom of Hektor appears almost at the same time as the episode on Skyros, during the 2nd century. In this case, the creator focuses on the magnanimity of the victor before whom the begging king prostrates himself. Priamos will collect the body of Hektor who, in this case, is the one portrayed as an example of mortality (exemplum mortalitatis) and of premature death (exemplum mortis immaturae). The death of Hektor once again serves to laud Achilleus, as was the case with the epigram of Epigonos above, because Achilleus was the one who was able to slay him. The death of the Troy’s most important hero therefore constitutes praise for the most prominent Greek hero. In the context of the imagery being examined, I believe that this dual reference to the two great heroes of the opposing sides is an achievement of the Attic art of the 2nd century A.D.

105However, Hektor was the subject of another composition of Athenian creators: the battle beside the ships (epi nausi mache). He is among the heroes receiving excessive praise in Philostratos’ Heroicus (682–683. 722), where it is stated that he alone could keep four horses under control, that he burned the ships of the Achaians, and that he fought them all at once in battle. His monumental, frontal figure on the Thessaloniki sarcophagus (Fig. 48), where he overpowers his enemy before the ships, seems to illustrate the superhuman abilities attributed to him in the sophist’s text.

106If military virtue is the predominant male virtue, hunting prowess is its prerequisite. As Xenophon tells us, »for among the ancients the companions of Cheiron to whom I referred learnt many noble lessons in their youth, beginning with hunting; from these lessons there sprang in them great virtue, for which they are admired even today« (X. Cyn. 12, 18, Marchant 1925). This treatise refers to a host of heroes whom Cheiron instructed in hunting, a practice of divine origin, as it was invented by Apollo and Artemis. Among these, a special place was certainly held by Achilleus, but many others are also mentioned, such as Meleagros and Hippolytos (X. Cyn. 1, 2). A handful of women, including Atalante, also possessed this divine gift (X. Cyn. 13, 18). The warrior heroes ›paraded‹ in Philostratos’ Heroicus – including Achilleus – often engaged in hunting, as is repeatedly reiterated[344]. In conclusion, hunting is an essential component of the education of heroes and is a practice that is characteristic of them, particularly of young heroes[345]. Therefore, it is no surprise that a number of Attic sarcophagi are adorned with themes of mythical hunts, where the protagonists obviously serve as exempla virtutis for mere mortals. On the other hand, it is obvious, as we saw, that a small number of sarcophagi also depicted non-mythical hunts, which also allude to the corresponding virtues of the deceased. As noted above, hunting had been part of the education of youths in ancient Greece, bestowing physical and mental virtues on them[346]. It is therefore easily understood that the theme would be included in funereal imagery, as it already had been since the 5th century B.C. in Ionia and Athens[347], and would reappear during the 2nd century A.D. in the monuments in question.

107Among the myths concerning hunting and hunters, there is no doubt that the premier place is held by the hunt of the Kalydonian boar. The assembly of such a large number of hero-hunters from various regions of Greece in Kalydon, Aitolia in order to aid Meleagros in exterminating the ravaging wild boar sent by the goddess Artemis to the region is a unique event, taking on the nature of a Panhellenic endeavour, albeit at a far smaller scale than the Trojan expedition. We know the names of the heroes and their places of origin from Pseudo-Apollodors’ Bibliotheca and other sources[348]. The protagonist is Meleagros, who dealt the killing blow to the beast, but the huntress Atalante also played a key role, as she was drawn first blood with her arrows. The dominant episode on Attic sarcophagi, of course, is the hunt itself. However, the right small side of the Delphi sarcophagus (Koch 1975, cat. 166)[349] depicts Althaia, Meleagros’ mother, as she prepares to burn the brand to which, as we know, the hero’s life was tied and which she had saved at the time of his birth. The presence of this episode assures us that this is not the Homeric version of the myth being recounted but a later one, possibly originating from Euripides’ play Meleagros, which is preserved in fragments, as well as from Pseudo-Apollodoros’ Bibliotheca [350]. We reach the same conclusion from the Delphi sarcophagus itself, the front side of which depicts, beside the hunt and for the sole time, the episode where Meleagros offers the boar’s pelt to Atalante. This act would trigger Althaia’s vengeance and, consequently, the hero’s death, as foretold by the Fates immediately after his birth. Therefore, like Achilleus, Meleagros is also a hero whose premature death had already been predetermined at the time of his birth. In the Euripidean version of the myth, a key role was played by the erotic relationship between Meleagros and Atalante, which the representation on the aforesaid Delphi sarcophagus suggests, and by the proximity at which the two heroes fight in the hunt scenes. Thus, the prominent role of the heroine may be another reason, in addition to the foregoing, as to why this mythical hunt was selected. Worthy of note is Ewald’s apt remark that the kline-lid of the Delphi sarcophagus depicts only one figure in repose, which is female, leading to the reasonable conclusion that the sarcophagus was intended for a woman[351].

108Hippolytos is also enumerated among the hunting heroes in ancient literature. He is a hunter which was always so close to Artemis, the goddess of the hunt par excellence, that, in the words of Aphrodite, he »has gained a companionship greater than mortal« (E. Hipp. 19, Kovacs). This is precisely what keeps him pure and celibate, particularly with regard to his step-mother, Phaidra. However, the purity of the hero anything but prevented his death, as stated in the epigram of Epigonos from Laodicea, Phrygia, who names both Achilleus and Hippolytos as examples of a predetermined death: »nor he who fled from the marriage bed of his father, Hippolytos, [did not escape Moira]« (Müller 1994, 90)[352]. We could assume that sarcophagi adorned with this theme were mainly intended for young men who remained unmarried, such as Eteoneus, whose premature death prior to his marriage is lamented in his epicedium by Aeliοs Aristides (Or. 31)[353]; in a way, this parallels the loutrophoroi of the classical era, intended as markets on the graves of unmarried youths or girls[354]. Naturally, this cannot be proven by the insufficient information currently at our disposal. Furthermore, these mythological scenes were not necessarily interpreted in a single way in antiquity. For example, in the representation on the Beirut sarcophagus (Rogge 1995, cat. 57) (Fig. 20), we saw that the two protagonists, Phaidra and Hippolytos, share an odd relationship, giving the impression of a conjugal relationship. In this case, greater emphasis may be placed on Phaidra and her vigorous but unfulfilled desire to win Hippolytos’ affection[355].

109In addition to the subjects which we discussed at length and make up the bulk of Attic mythological sarcophagi, there is a number of monuments adorned with themes or scenes far less popular than the foregoing, in light of the information currently at our disposal. Certain of these could be included in the epic cycle, such as the scenes on the so-called Polyxene sarcophagus in Madrid (Oakley 2011, cat. 62), recounting episodes leading to the death of Achilleus. The main subject is the common sacrifice of Achaians and Trojans who thus make a truce, at the exhortation of Achilleus, because of his love for Polyxene[356]. The scenes depicted on the other sides follow this time-line of this episode: the murder of Achilleus by Paris and the arrival of Polyxene as a ›bride‹ at his tomb on the small sides, as well as a Trojan battle on the rear side[357]. According to proposed interpretations, the same broad Trojan cycle could include the frieze on the Thessaloniki sarcophagus of the sacrifice of Iphigenia in Aulis (Oakley 2011, cat. 23)[358], and the scene depicting the madness that seized Aias on the Beirut sarcophagus, the so-called Underworld sarcophagus (Oakley 2011, cat. 66)[359]. In all these examples, the central idea is, ultimately, the heroic death or the braveness/virtue of the protagonist, expressed from a different perspective each time. The representation of the Seven against Thebes on the Corinth sarcophagus is virtually unique (Oakley 2011, cat. 50). The presence of two women during their departure may allude to the motif of bidding warriors farewell, which was well known since the classical era[360], but the interest unquestionably lies in the tragic outcome of this expedition: the death of the heroes.

110The death, as a result of divine retribution, is depicted in certain images from other mythological cycles, such as the murder of Aigisthos and Klytaimnestra in the no longer extant La Gayole sarcophagus and certain other fragments (Oakley 2011, cat. 53–56)[361]; even Odysseus’ mnesterophonia (Oakley 2011, cat. 46–48) and the fall of Oinomaos from the chariot on the Pelops sarcophagus (Oakley 2011, cat. 61). In several other cases, one identifies the intention to display pairs of heroes who are linked in a way: the pairs of Pelops and Hippodameia (Oakley 2011, cat. 61), Polyxene being led, as noted above, to the tomb of Achilleus as a ›bride‹ (Oakley 2011, cat. 62), Theseus and Ariadne (Oakley 2011, cat. 65), Leda and the Swan-Zeus (Oakley 2011, cat. 42. 43). On the other hand, the warriors being bid farewell by their wives in the aforementioned Corinth sarcophagus (Oakley 2011, cat. 50) could also be cited as an example of conjugal devotion.

111We could consider a separate group the sarcophagi portraying the achievements of two heroes: Bellerophon and Herakles. In the first case, the Corinthian hero is shown taming Pegasοs or watering him at Peirene; however, these episodes are of secondary importance, as they are attested either on the small sides or on the lid (Oakley 2011, cat. 1–10). On the contrary, the labours of Herakles are the main theme of sarcophagi. The fragmentary sarcophagus from Thespiai in the Athens National Museum (Oakley 2011, cat. 12) (Fig. 49 a–c) possibly recounts just four labours on the front side[362] and one labour on each of the two small sides of the chest, while antithetically posed griffins are portrayed on the rear side. An imitation of an Attic sarcophagus from Nikopolis made by a local workshop (Fig. 50 a–d)[363] adds to our incomplete knowledge of mostly fragmentary Attic sarcophagi depicting Herakles, numbering eleven in total[364]. In the case of the local work, the labours, twelve in total, cover not just the three sides, but also extend to the rear side. Firstly, I believe we should make two observations regarding this group of Herakles sarcophagi. The first concerns the fact that all extant fragments, save one from the 3rd century A.D. (Oakley 2011, cat. 17), date to the 2nd half of the 2nd century A.D.[365]. If this chronological distribution is not random, it would appear that the subject ceased to be popular after the reshuffling we observed taking place in Attic workshops[366], possibly because this narrative deployment of the labours did not meet the latest requirements of monumental compositions that overemphasise the protagonist. The second observation is that the fragmentary state of the material, at least with regard to the 2nd century A.D., creates a misleading understanding of the frequency of sarcophagi depicting this theme. Suffice it to reiterate that the early Hippolytos group numbers just seven examples[367]. Nevertheless, if we take the total number of fragments of Herakles sarcophagi throughout production into consideration, we find that these monuments are indeed significantly fewer than those depicting the three heroes most preferred by workshops and purchasers, namely Achilleus, Meleagros and Hippolytos[368].

112As regards the episodes depicting Herakles-adjacent myths, these are exclusively limited to his labours. In fact, the labours are selected on a case-by-case basis, judging from the differences between the Thespiai sarcophagus and the Nikopolis sarcophagus, with the latter apparently imitating an Attic model most likely exported to Nikopolis[369]. The actual selection of the hero is to be expected, as Herakles was the exemplar of physical strength and bravery for the Greek world and, from the 4th century B.C. onwards, also served as a model character, being praised for his prudence, dignity and justice. The path of Virtue that he followed during his life as he was trained »with toil and sweat« led to him gaining »the most blessed happiness« (X. Mem. 2, 1, 28. 33, Marchant 1923)[370]. The hero’s labours being depicted clearly allude to the difficult path he chose, which led to true happiness. It is easy to comprehend the association intended during the design of a sarcophagus with this imagery for its deceased occupant. By analogy to the illustrations of these labours, in a Hadrianic decree concerning the pancratiast Kallikrates from Aphrodisias, Karia, the wording is such that an association with Herakles and his virtues is achieved, as it is stated that the athlete obtained »famous glory« through »labour and sweat«, as well as »taking care of his soul«[371]. It should be noted that the motif of Herakles’ immortality does not appear to play a role in the iconography of the sarcophagi. In the Nikopolis sarcophagus, the two labours concerning the hereafter, i. e. those of the Hesperides and Kerberus (Fig. 50), do not hold prominent positions, while in the Thespiai sarcophagus, only the latter appears, on the small left side (Fig. 49)[372]. Therefore, the meaning intended to be conveyed through these images is the laborious, virtuous path to glory, with no apparent allusion to the afterlife and immortality[373].

113Based on the foregoing, one would expect the figure of Herakles to hold a loftier place in the thematic repertory of Attic sarcophagi. In fact, his ageing, which is illustrated at least in the Nikopolis sarcophagus, portraying the evolution of the beardless young hero to the mature bearded man[374], gives the impression that the theme could be adapted to all age groups. Therefore, it seems that the selection of the heroes dominating the iconography of these funerary monuments was spearheaded precisely by their young age and premature death[375]. Achilleus, Hektor, Hippolytos or Meleagros were chosen by the relatives – commissioners of the monuments in order to praise their deceased loved ones through them and to mourn »those beloved by the gods who die young« (to use the phrase Dio Chrysostom employs in Melankomas) – ultimately to provide »consolation for the men« (D. Chr. Or. 79, 13).

114Unfortunately, there is scant information from inscriptions on Attic sarcophagi themselves that could shed light on the identity and social status of the owners; as is well known, there was no special place on the sarcophagus intended for the carving of an inscription[376]. In fact, certain of the extant inscriptions on Attic sarcophagi[377] may not have been carved from the outset but during a subsequent use[378], although this does not impair their value as evidence, at least regarding the second owners of the sarcophagi. It should also be stressed that these inscriptions are rarely found on sarcophagi originating from Attica , as is the case with the sarcophagus of Magnos Eryades[379]. On the contrary, they are often found carved on monuments from different regions, e. g. from Italy, bearing Latin inscriptions, such as the sarcophagus adorned with Erotes from Ostia, bearing the names of two siblings of different genders from a family of Roman citizens with the gentilicium Aulerii[380], or the Naples sarcophagus of Metilia Torquata discussed above (Rogge 1995, cat. 19)[381] (Fig. 30). In a handful of cases, we have information concerning not just the name but also the legal and social status of the purchasers and their families, such as the large Dionysiac sarcophagus from Thessaloniki commissioned by Po(plia) Antia Damokratia, a relative of a governor of Thrace for her husband, a high-ranking official[382] (Fig. 51), and the sarcophagus of Aimilius Aristeides, a procurator Augustorum from Ephesus, depicting a battle[383]. It is believed that Metilia Torquata, whose name was carved on the large Naples sarcophagus discussed above, was the daughter of senator Μ. Metilius Aquillius Torquatus[384]. Another Dionysiac sarcophagus in Istanbul, with a carved salute to the gymnasiarch Gyrostratos[385] can be added to the above, as gymnasiarchs were members of the city elite by dint of their role and affluence[386]. Similarly, Magnos Eryades, whose sarcophagus was discussed above, belonged to a prominent family, if he was the father of Apollonios, who is included in the list of prytaneis of A.D. 190–200 (IG II2 1805)[387]. On the contrary, with regard to two other examples, one cannot claim that their occupants, both Roman citizens, belonged to a high social class. These concern the sarcophagus from Salona in Split, bearing a Latin inscription, carved during a subsequent use, referring to Iul(ius) Sab]inus Pro[cu]l[eianus, a Roman soldier and son of Roman parents[388] (Fig. 10). The other sarcophagus, of which only the kline-lid survives, comes from the funerary monument of Ladochori, Igoumenitsa, kept in the Archaeological Museum of Ioannina[389]. It bears the name of the deceased, Antonios Euarestos, who died at the age of twenty-one, at the front of the mattress. The inscriptions carved on the gabled lid of an Amazonomachy sarcophagus in Beirut are much more articulate (Kintrup 2016, cat. 259)[390] (Fig. 42). These tell us the names of the two occupants, Diodoros Veroka, a shellfish fisherman, and Hyperechios, a porphyry trader. In this case, of course, there can be no question as to the social status of the two men, despite the wealth they had obviously amassed[391].

115The above examples lead us to cautiously reach universally applicable conclusions concerning the social status of purchasers of Attic sarcophagi, whether in Greek territory or in the Roman Empire in general. In other words, in all likelihood and as was the case in Rome, the purchasers and users of these monuments were of varied social origin[392]. The only thing we should consider a certainty is that, regardless of their social origin or place of residence, the buyers of these monuments were affluent people[393] and had high standards as regards product quality, as they selected (whether for first or second use) Attic sarcophagi above others of lower aesthetic value[394]. This fact does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that they were educated elites of the cities or had literary knowledge that allowed them to comprehend the mythological scenes[395]. The view that purchasers of luxurious Attic sarcophagi in Greece were, contrary to what was the case in Rome, mostly members of the elite, highly cultured, and followed the values of the ›Second Sophistic‹, is rather simplistic. As indicated from the foregoing, a distinction between purchasers who belong to the elite and prefer Attic sarcophagi and purchasers who belong to other social classes and use simpler and more affordable monuments, such as stelae, would seem arbitrary[396].

116The information offered by the Thessaloniki sarcophagi is illuminating, as their inscriptions provide invaluable information concerning their owners. These are mainly locally produced marble sarcophagi where a prominent place was provided for an inscription to be carved, which thus played a key role in the appearance of the monument[397]. While Thessaloniki was one of the main recipients of Attic sarcophagi in Greece, accounting for 13 % of the total extant sarcophagi of the city[398], one would be hard-pressed to claim that purchasers chose the type of their funerary monument depending on the social class to which they belonged. The well-known example of the large Attic Dionysiac sarcophagus in Thessaloniki which we discussed above was purchased, according to its inscription, by Po(plia) Antia Damokratia for her husband Vitalius Restitutus, who is described with the honorofic vir perfectissimus (Fig. 51). She was most likely the sister or daughter of a governor of Thrace[399]. In this case, the owner unquestionably belonged to the highest social class of the Empire and, therefore, was probably highly educated. On the other hand, it is noteworthy that eminent figures of Thessaloniki society were interred in local rather than Attic sarcophagi. For instance, the councillor (bouleutes) Claudius Lykos, who commissioned a heroon featuring sarcophagi and statues, preferred a plain sarcophagus for himself depicting a heroic symposium (so-called funerary banquet) (Fig. 52), a popular subject in funerary monuments of the city in general[400]. Similarly, Annia Tryphaina, apparently a prominent Thessalonian woman and perhaps a priestess of Isis, ordered a sarcophagus for herself and her family adorned with a heroic rider, a highly popular theme in Thessaloniki[401]. Also noteworthy is the case of the Thessalonian T. Aelius Geminios Olympos, who was interred in a sarcophagus of the type most favoured by local workshops, i. e. the framed type, wherein the inscription was carved, as if on a large tabula[402]. This man was one of the most distinguished and wealthiest Thessalonians of the 2nd half of the 2nd and the early 3rd centuries A.D., and, among other offices held, served as President of the Attic Panhellenion[403]. It is unlikely that a man (himself or including his family) holding such rank would be oblivious to the cultural climate of the era, which is why he was content with a simple, local sarcophagus adorned with just an inscription. In this and similar cases, we can unreservedly assume that purchasers were often steered in the selection of their funerary monument by other criteria not related to their educational level or social status. They could also have been influenced among other factors by the local traditions of the city, which was oriented towards Asia Minor and particularly the north-west, with the types of its funerary monuments shaped by this influence[404]. Apparently, taking a ›conservative‹ approach, they preferred artistic forms that were more familiar and iconographic themes with a long tradition in Macedonia which may have served as more authentic means of expression than imported luxury products. It must be noted that the same types of sarcophagi were chosen by persons belonging to lower social classes, the plebs urbana, even slaves[405].

117On the other hand, it seems quite likely that mythological and, generally speaking, pictorial images on Attic sarcophagi were understood not only by the members of an educated elite but also by people belonging to broader social classes. The only requirement for this would be to just know the myths, which would be expected, as even barbarians beyond the borders of the Roman Empire were familiar with Homer and worshipped Achilleus[406]. Indeed, which resident of a Greek-speaking region would be unfamiliar with Achilleus, Hektor and the other heroes of the Trojan War, when mythology was an important component of Greek religion[407]? Moreover, who would have never seen an Amazonomachy scene of the numerous in plain sight on the various public buildings in the cities[408]? Lastly, even if we were to assume that the customers of Attic sarcophagus workshops were indeed basically members of the social elite, it would be odd if the affluent throughout the Empire, regardless of their social class, would not wish to emulate the former.

118Attic workshops addressed this wide audience consisting of all social classes, who certainly had the financial means, and made every effort throughout their production to adapt to their requirements as best as possible. This would render understandable the rather limited repertory and selective use of specific mythological scenes, as well as their depiction in a clear and accessible manner[409]. In fact, over time, workshops found it expedient to abandon the narrative depiction of mythological episodes, which at times required greater effort for the comprehension of details, and employed a different mode of conception in the 3rd century A.D.: they aimed at the essential components of the myth and, primarily, showcasing the protagonist, who took on an emblematic role and was immediately understood by viewers as the primary hero. But this is an issue that will concern us below.

119Following what I stated above, the process of acquiring such a sarcophagus is a question that must be raised. It is hard to imagine that these mythological sarcophagi would be available at workshops for anyone interested[410]. The high cost of these works, particularly a 3rd-century kline-lid sarcophagus[411], would render their production-to-stock economically untenable. On the other hand, it is known that those interested often procured a sarcophagus while still alive[412], while in cases of unexpected deaths, there were temporary solutions until the deceased could be placed in a marble sarcophagus[413]. We therefore assume that these are products made to order. Of course, to our knowledge, the customers themselves mostly inhabited remote regions and direct contact with the workshops would normally be impossible. Therefore, they must have come to arrangements with workshops possibly through traders who, as intermediaries, linked the places of production with the markets of major urban centres[414].

120Nevertheless, the types of representations could not have been created ad hoc for specific commissioners but are probably due to workshops that were quite familiar with the desires of the purchasing public and realised them through the suitable handling of myths. I believe that myths afforded a general framework in which the virtues and tragic death of a young, beautiful and virtuous man – or, in certain cases, a woman in her family – would be matched with their parallels from the heroes’ world. In the 3rd century A.D., Attic workshops leveraged the repertory of myths in a general and substantive way, without using descriptive details of the story. As we will discuss immediately below, they focus on the protagonist of the story in order to promote and praise him, elevate him into an example for the deceased person (or persons) to be interred in the sarcophagi. In contrast to these figures belonging to the mythical sphere, the persons depicted on the lid of a kline-sarcophagus are those transporting us to the sphere of actual reality[415]. It is unknown whether the depictions of reclining men and women refer to the actual persons interred in the sarcophagus or (and) the living commissioners, who would possibly be later interred in the same monuments. However, since the conditions under which a sarcophagus was ordered and used are normally unknown, and yet we assume that these monuments usually served as family tombs[416], it is not necessary – but cannot be ruled out – that the persons on the lid are associated with the heroes of the mythological episode depicted on the chest. In other words, the persons interred in the sarcophagi could well have been relatives of the purchaser who died before him[417].

121As already clarified, a large part of compositions depicting mythological scenes on the front of Attic sarcophagi aim at recounting just one episode. Save few exceptions that require specific discussion, the frieze depicts a single scene, such as the Kalydonian boar hunt, the Ransom of Hektor, Achilleus at the palace of Lykomedes on Skyros, the assembly of the Achaians in Troy, as well as Amazonomachy scenes, a battle between male warriors, possibly in Troy, and the battle beside the ships (epi nausi mache). Even the composition of Hippolytos and Phaidra, which uses a more suggestive visual language, particularly in the 2nd-century group, contains narrative elements that are closely, causally linked and make up a single episode. One interesting finding is that, mainly during the 2nd century A.D. and more rarely during the 3rd century A.D., in certain cases and with respect to the same mythological episode, there are two different compositions following a different archetype during the same period. The reproductions of each composition at our disposal indicate that the archetype is followed somewhat accurately, at least with regard to its principal features and, to a large extent, its details as well. This was made clear, as regards the 2nd century A.D., in groups I and II of the Kalydonian boar hunt (Fig. 1. 2. 3. 5) and in the early groups of Achilleus on Skyros, although one of them, featuring the protagonists in seated form, is only attested once (Fig. 29. 30. 31. 32). The same holds true for the Amazonomachy scenes, with two or three different compositions discernible during the 2nd century A.D.; these clearly co-existed and each followed a different archetype (Fig. 37. 39. 40). Such a case in the 3rd century A.D. can be found in the two groups of the battle beside the ships. Although one appeared first, both co-existed at least for a time during the 1st half of the 3rd century A.D. (Fig. 46. 47). As the differences between the various aforementioned compositions are striking, we conclude that the archetypes they followed were possibly the creations of different, rival workshops[418]. This is also supported by the fact that, while contemporaneous, at times they exhibit clearly classical characteristics and at others more complex and stylistically more advanced patterns that, in one case, reveal painting models. In any case, a direct connection to classical models can rarely be discerned through the relief friezes of the sarcophagi[419], as they are usually limited to individual figures or groups of figures. Normally, these are new, eclectic creations that must be attributed to Attic sarcophagus workshops themselves.

122However, in other cases, certain changes were made to the compositions, as discussed above, that intentionally altered individual elements. These are probably interventions aiming at improving or ›correcting‹ the archetype, possibly also in order to diversify – at least in certain cases – the significance of the image. Thus, in group II of Meleagros sarcophagi, we saw the composition being reversed from counterclockwise to clockwise, so that Meleagros is depicted from the front rather than the rear (Fig. 4). A different type of change was observed in the early group of Achilleus on Skyros. In its similar sarcophagus in Naples (Fig. 30), the change to Deidameia’s stance allowed for a new interpretation of the scene, as the heroine was linked to the figure of Achilleus in a way that clearly displays the relationship between them. Similarly, the different arrangement of figures at the middle of the 3rd-century sarcophagi in Paris and Rome, also depicting Achilleus on Skyros, highlights in the second example the closer relationship between the hero and Deidameia, almost the only female figure in the entire episode (Fig. 33. 34). In all these cases, we are likely not dealing with rival creations by different workshops but variations produced by the same workshop; moreover, it cannot be ruled out that they convey the desires of the commissioners.

123A change of different magnitude, a truly great shift, occurred during the 1st quarter of the 3rd century A.D. with regard to the characteristics of relief friezes. This change concerns the conception and overall structure of the compositions, on one hand, and their execution, i. e. the style of the relief, on the other. One rarely discerns an archetype behind a number of representations during this period. While there are general similarities among depictions of the same theme, each one of them constitutes a self-contained work with its own personality and must be viewed separately. The way mythological scenes are conceived is radically different, divorced from the traditional narrative style and aiming at highlight specific persons and messages. It is noteworthy that means of monumental art are being employed: the axiality of the composition, the scale and frontal depiction of figures that exceed the relief field in height and are carved in high relief, so as to appear similar to statues. At the same time, references alluding to the mythological framework, while still present, are kept to a minimum. This is without doubt a suggestive language that preserves some elements of the myth in order to create the conditions for identifying the scene rather than to recount the story being depicted in detail. The emphasis on the figure of the protagonist, placed at the axis in frontal pose, when permitted by the type of composition, and portrayed at a larger scale than the other figures at times, is particularly striking. Meleagros on horseback on the Thessaloniki sarcophagus (Fig. 7), Hippolytοs beneath an arch on the Tarragon sarcophagus (Fig. 17), Achilleus in the arming scene among the Achaians on the Beirut sarcophagus (Fig. 35) or Hektor during the battle beside the ships on the Thessaloniki sarcophagus (Fig. 48) are characteristic examples. In my view, there can be no doubt that the interest of artists and purchasers shifted during the 3rd century A.D. from the recounting of the story to its protagonist, from the episode of the myth to the mythical hero and his personality. The emblematic character he takes on strengthens the transmission of the message[420].

124Furthermore, there is a clear qualitative difference in comparison to 2nd-century friezes. These are not merely skilled sculptors such as those who created the reliefs during the preceding period, but major artists who were obviously familiar with carving large-scale sculptures in the round. Since we can only make assumptions concerning the organisation of Attic sculpture workshops, as noted above[421], it is hard to interpret this shift. What can be considered a certainty is that 2nd-century Attic sarcophagi are very closely related to mythological (neo-Attic) reliefs, as supported by their similarities in terms of style and, frequently, the types of figures[422]. These same workshops, which probably also created figural table supports and statuettes, could have also created larger-scale ideal works[423]. However, it is equally likely that large, high-quality idealistic sculptures were carved by other workshops addressed to a public with higher requirements. Whatever the case may be, artistic forces that had specialised during the 2nd century in large-scale, high-quality conspicuous sculptures to a great percentage now shifted to the carving of relief sarcophagi, giving new impetus to production and substantially increased the level of these works. It is probably no accident that during the reign of the Severans, the production of large-scale idealistic statues in Athens – as in the empire in general – decreased noticeably, a fact that must be attributed to the shift of the financially strong strata of society to new means of self-promotion[424].

125Thus, the new, dynamic personnel now involved in the creation of relief sarcophagi elevated these workshops, through their creative imagination and high level of carving, to leaders of the marble product trade in the Roman Empire. Based on the foregoing, we can understand the preference for the array and frontal depiction of heroes on relief friezes so that they appear similar to statues, and also the freedom and variety in the design of compositions. Guided by a draft providing general instructions, each artist was able to create a special, unique composition and imbue it with the specific meaning that, in his view, would resonate with the purchasing public. We can therefore comprehend the enthusiastic response of the public to these new, ambitious products, with production spiking and climaxing during the 2nd quarter of the 3rd century A.D., and the subsequent diffusion of these monuments throughout the Empire until the mid-3rd century or shortly thereafter[425]. It is self-evident that the choice of myths, which met the standards of public interested in narrated sarcophagi, had a decisive contribution to this development.

126The persons depicted in the mythological scenes on sarcophagi belong to the distant past of Greek ›history‹[426] and represent the moral values that were preserved unchanged for centuries in the Greek world. These grand examples of the mythical past, with an educational value tracing back to epic poetry, were sustained throughout antiquity[427]. The Greek-speaking inhabitants of the East continued to look back at these values and examples during the Roman Empire, with special emphasis during the 2nd century A.D.[428]. During this period Athens began producing mythological and, generally speaking, relief sarcophagi using classical artistic forms that allowed the creation of works with a classical style, i. e. classicistic works, but also with a creative spirit in terms of their compositions and messages. Athenian sculptors handled mythological subjects in a way that met the contemporary social needs of broader populations of the Empire[429].

127The protagonists of episodes themselves appear and act in terms set by the sculptors and the purchasing public, but always in a way that highlights their main qualities and virtues to which the virtues of the mortal occupants of the funerary monuments are paralleled[430]. The reference to these moral exempla eulogises the deceased and consoles their surviving relatives. In this context, the mythical heroes are not the subjects of worship and cult practices. In other words, the mythical figures are not heroes (ἥρωες) in the religious sense of the term, and are not venerated at any level, whether private or public. Scholarship has clearly distinguished between the secular meaning of the term, as we understand it from the epics, and the religious meaning[431], i. e. between mythical heroes (»Helden«) and heroes associated with the religious phenomenon of heroisation (»Heroen«)[432]. In other words, on one hand, we have the heroes who were raised through epic poetry and survived in collective memory until Late Antiquity, and on the other, the heroes of all categories, mythical but usually historical figures who, for various reasons, where venerated after their deaths in the Greek world[433]. The mythical heroes depicted on sarcophagi obviously belong to the first category (»Helden«) and there is no reason to assume their association with cult practices. Consequently, as we will see below, the spaces where sarcophagi depicting mythical heroes were placed cannot be perceived unconditionally as heroa, i. e. places of worship, but must be primarily treated as luxurious funerary monuments.

128Attic sarcophagi have been found in funerary buildings[434] and outdoor spaces, such as burial enclosures, e. g. in Tyre and most likely in Thessaloniki and Athens[435]. As a rule, there are no indications of worship in such buildings or spaces. In other words, in order to associate them with heroised mortals, whether in a private or public context, we would require inscriptions or at least evidence of the existence of an altar or the performance of sacrifices, or to know that they were situated within cities (intra muros)[436]. The number of funerary buildings recently unearthed in Nikopolis, Epirus[437], and, to a smaller extent, in Athenian Kerameikos [438] and Messene [439] shed light on the way relief-adorned sarcophagi functioned far more than the isolated funerary monuments known to date. The luxurious buildings in Nikopolis frame the grave road starting from the northern gateway of the city and heading towards the so-called Proasteion and Augustus’ victory monument. In their sepulchral chamber, sarcophagi of varied provenance, mostly Attic, had been placed along the perimeter on a low podium and in certain cases co-existed with built tombs[440]. These are doubtlessly private tombs-mausolea of rich families, deployed along the most important extra-urban road of the city, thus displaying the wealth and status of their owners.

129It is a fact that sarcophagi of Attic or other origin were, in certain cases, housed in buildings characterised by inscriptions as heroa (ἡρῶα)[441]. However, we do not know what the specific character of the monument was in each case and whether the occupant of the tomb enjoyed any particular honours. This last category may for example include the temple-shaped monument of Messene of disputed dating, which according to excavator Petros Themelis is the heroon of the Saithidai, while according to F. A. Cooper it is the tomb of Aristomenis[442]. In any case, it appears certain that the fragmentary kline-lid sarcophagus which originates from the monument dates far later than its initial phase[443]. Who its owner was during the 2nd century A.D. is unknown to us, as is if he enjoyed heroic honours, which is not unlikely, given the prominent position of this temple-shaped monument. However, these questions remain unanswered, at least for the time being.

130Even if we were to assume that certain of the mortals interred in Attic sarcophagi had indeed been worshipped as heroes, it is not the themes of the mythological or other representations that determined or decisively contributed to the character of the tomb as a place of worship (heroon). It is difficult to accept Ewald’s proposal that »the specific selection of mythological themes on Attic sarcophagi served to reinforce the specific spatial character of the tomb as a heroon«[444]. In other words, the repertory of mythological images cannot be considered to »correspond to the designation of tombs as heroa, and the ubiquitous use of the hero title in the Greek East«[445]. This would require the satisfaction of certain of the aforesaid conditions, which are encountered less or more frequently, depending on the region or city where the monument was located. As is well known, Athens itself, where a significant percentage of Attic sarcophagi were used, falls short in comparison to the rest of Greece and Asia Minor in the dissemination of the private heroisation of the dead. In other Greek cities, the terms heros (ἥρως) and heroa (ἡρῶα) are widely used[446], while it is certain that the phenomenon of heroisation is subject to significant geographical variation[447]. According to Ewald, during the 2nd and 3rd centuries A.D., when Attic sarcophagi were produced, the presence of private tomb-heroa in Athens appears to be commensurate to that in other Greek cities[448]. However, the funerary buildings in Athens where the term heroon is used number but two so far[449], while Attic funerary stelae of the period where the deceased is called heros [450] are exceptionally few. Nevertheless, under no circumstances do these examples allow us to compare the situation in Athens to those in other cities of the East, e. g. Samos or the cities of Macedonia and Thessaly [451], where there are numerous such attestations from funerary monuments. What is certain is that the cities of the Greek East cannot be treated on equal terms with regard to heroisation[452].

131Scholars researching the imagery of heroisation in the Greek East are aware that the themes suggesting the relationship between the deceased and the chthonic/heroic world are not mythological themes. This role is played by the iconographic types – already widespread since the classical era – of the so-called funerary banquet reliefs (Totenmahlreliefs) and the so-called Heros equitans reliefs, accompanied by characteristic heroisation symbols, such as the snake or snake wrapped around a tree, the altar or the horse head/bust[453]. For example, in a city like Thessaloniki where a significant number of Attic sarcophagi were imported from A. D. 130 to approximately A.D. 260, as noted above, local sarcophagi adorned with these heroic themes were concurrently used; in fact, these are also used very frequently in the other types of its funerary monuments, such as altars, stelae and reliefs[454]. It is also worth stressing the fact that in the funerary monuments of Macedonian cities and other locations, these iconographic types are frequently accompanied by inscriptions where the deceased is characterised as heros [455]. This includes the remarkable inscribed stele from the region of Thessaloniki in the Museum of Byzantine Culture inv. ΒΕ 116 (ΑΓ 1629), depicting the deceased as a hunter on horseback and bearing the following epigram[456]: Ἱππευτὴν ἥρωα πατὴρ ἀπόδημον ἔθηκεν Γάιον ἐνγράψας εἰκόνι λαινέῃ, ὃς μετὰ τῶν Νυμφῶν οἰκεῖ κατὰ τέμπεα Κισσοῦ ἵπποισιν χαίρων [κ]αὶ κυσὶ καὶ δόρασιν. The deceased, having passed into the sphere of heroes, hunts in the idyllic environment of Mount Cissus accompanied by Nymphs. There is no reference here to a mythical hero-exemplar – as is the case, for instance, with the aforementioned inscription of Epigonos – but the deceased himself is elevated to the heroic sphere, enjoying a happy afterlife.

132Also of interest is the simple, locally produced sarcophagus of councillor Claudius Lykos, also from Thessaloniki, which was discussed above[457] (Fig. 52). As we are told from his inscription, this man, while living, constructed a heroon for himself and his family, which contained sarcophagi and statues. The owner is portrayed on the front of the chest in the motif of a banqueter, i. e. as a heros. Of course, it is unknown whether this distinguished Thessalonian enjoyed any particular honours after his death, but the selection of the iconographic motif, combined with the reference to a heroon, creates certain important associations. According to one opinion, the terms heros and heroon constituted hollow, formulaic phrases in the late Hellenistic and the imperial period, merely signifying the deceased and the tomb, respectively. However, this view, which was put forward by scholars in the past and widely accepted by epigraphical scholarship, has now been disputed with strong arguments[458]; on the contrary, it has been claimed more recently that the use of these terms reflects an ideological position that varies in frequency from region to region and mainly concerns premature deaths[459]. This is supported by the aforementioned fact that funerary inscriptions where the term heros is encountered are closely associated to a specific heroic iconography[460]. However, as regards Attic sarcophagi, a depiction of the myth of Meleagros or Hippolytos reflects a different perception of the deceased. In this case, the virtues of the mythical hero-hunter are projected into the reality of that time and serve as an example for the deceased, without identifying him with the hero or elevating him to the heroic sphere. We could not even claim that these conceal any suggestions as to the afterlife of the deceased. If, nevertheless, the connotations of the myth allow in certain cases for the possibility of a prospective reading, this can certainly not be ruled out, but it is not clearly brought to the foreground[461].

133The following conclusion arises from the foregoing: 1. the cities of the Greek East cannot be treated as similar with regard to their views concerning death and the heroisation of the deceased; 2. the iconography of Attic sarcophagi cannot be associated with the heroisation and heroic iconography of the Eastern cities, nor perceived as a parallel manifestation thereof. On the contrary, mythological images are rooted in the long tradition of the Greek world, where myths have a manifold function, being ubiquitous in the everyday lives of people, and heroes serve as moral examples for them. Athens, having adopted the new category of funerary monuments probably from Rome, also received its decoration at the same time with specific repertoire. The myth as a decorative theme of the chest is likely due to the capital, although in the Greek world and in Attica itself burial monuments of some size had long ago adopted it; the temple-shaped monument of Kallithea /Attica is a case in point[462]. In any event, the selection and handling of mythological episodes are achievements of the Attic art of the 2nd and 3rd centuries A.D. These achievements, on one hand, connect Attic funerary art with its ancient tradition and, on the other, allow it to express in its own special way the demands of the time.

134I would like to thank Michalis Tiverios for our very useful conversations on iconographic issues. I am in Antonios Rengakos’ debt for his assistance on philological issues. I owe a debt of gratitude to Guntram Koch for providing me with photographic material and information. For help and information I am obliged to: Anne-Marie Maila Afeiche, Nenad Cambi, Marianna Dagi, Vasiliki Gaggadis-Robin, Styliana Galiniki, Hans Rupprecht Goette, Despoina Ignatiadou, Stelios Katakis, John Oakley, and Eleni Tzimi. Finally, the arduous task of translating my text into English was undertaken by Daniel Webber, whom I thank warmly for his patience.

Attic sarcophagi with relief scenes were manufactured from the Hadrianic era until shortly after the mid-3rd century A.D. in Athens, and are one of the most important categories of sculptures produced by Attic workshops during this period. The majority of sarcophagi were intended to be exported throughout the Mediterranean basin, a fact that must be taken into serious consideration in an attempt to understand their imagery. Their mythological illustrations are one of the most important parameters that attract purchasers. The scenes selected are relatively few in number and are expressed in a manner that is accessible for recipients. Their compositions are new creations of the 2nd and 3rd centuries A.D. which, while adopting a classicising visual language, do not reproduce older compositions. These creations take into consideration their audience, one of wide and heterogeneous cultural background and varying beliefs with regard to burial customs and worship of the dead. This way, the Athenian workshops creating these funerary monuments successfully met the demands and expectations of the purchasers of exceptionally wide geographic and social origin throughout the Roman Empire.