~~ Phoenician Settlement in Malta – Claudia Sagona

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PHOENICIAN SETTLEMENT – HOW IT UNFOLDED IN MALTA*

Claudia SAGONA

Abstract: With fine harbours, central location and life sustaining provisions, the Maltese Archipelago may have played a significant role in the settlement of the western Mediterranean as a safe port of call. Stages in the colonisation process of the islands can be traced in the first three phases of funerary evidence that suggested different places of origin over time and an elite social element. No less significant were the impact of wine consumption and changing dining practices on the islands’ evolving pottery repertoire and funerary practice — aspects that can be identified in the insular environment of Malta.

INTRODUCTION

The Maltese Archipelago has very limited resources — no metal ores, no precious stones, nor extensive woodlands, no herds of wild beast from which to harvest ivory, yet the islands, ancient Melita and Gaulos, became the domain of Phoenician settlers and their Punic descendants whose cultural stamp could still be traced well into the Roman period of influence (fig. 1:1). Artefacts sourced directly from the east Mediterranean are few in the islands, but significant (e.g. fig. 3:7-9, 11). On-going contact can be traced through the pottery repertoire that witnessed the appearance and later extinction of forms commensurate with trends in the wider Mediterranean region. It is clear from funerary evidence that the Melitan Phase I reflects three broad stages of development (table 1). The evolution of the culture during these fledgling years of Phoenician colonisation it is argued here, mirrors both different places of origin in the east for merchants and immigrant populations as well as the changing nature of the commodities traded as Phoenician interests gained momentum in the central Mediterranean.

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CLAUDIA SAGONA

EVIDENCE OF DIRECT CONTACT WITH THE GREATER MEDITERRANEAN BEFORE THE PHOENICIANS

As background prior to the influx of Levantine interests in Malta, we can at least state that the islands were not isolated. Exchange of cultural artefacts can be identified through the occasional finds of Mycenaean IIIB wares in the island, represented by a small number of pottery fragments1. The islanders had long recognised the limitations of their island resources and had actively traded off-shore for valued products. Further, influences from Lipari, Sicily, Pantelleria and Campania have been detected in late Bronze Age contexts in Malta2. Within this island inter-play, Malta’s indigenous traders also left their own manufactures in the places they frequented. A brisk trade system is thought to have been carried out between Sicily and Malta through which distinctive red-slipped Bronze Age wares made in Malta infiltrated Sicily’s local communities; such vessels ultimately went out of daily use when they were included in the burial goods in sites like Thapsos. In return, we know the local Maltese Bronze Age folk of the Borġ in-Nadur phase regularly sourced and acquired quantities of red ochre among other commod- ities. Metal work in any period was imported3. Because of this commercial activity, the indigenous people of Malta were well aware of the value of their island harbours and coastal landing sites, they were probably versed in the etiquette of maritime trade, and understood the value of their island commod- ities. Phoenician merchant explorers appear to have found no obstacles in establishing a foothold in the archipelago; the evidence suggests that this was probably one of their earliest emplacements in the west.

MALTA’S ROLE IN THE WESTWARD MIGRATION — DEGREES OF CONTACT

It is reasonably well accepted that the Phoenician process of infiltrating the coastal lands of the Mediterranean rim was a process carried out in stages [4]:
A – Directed exploration was initially aimed at known regions rich in prima- ry and secondary commodities. Drawing on textual evidence these first westward forays might pre-date the tenth century BC. Although more than one Classical source [5] point to the early settlement of the west — Lixus in Morocco (c. 1180 BCE), Cadiz in Spain (c. 1110 or 1104 BCE) and Utica in Tunisia (c. 1100 BCE) — these early dates remain controversial. [6] Accounts of fabled maritime forays to the distant Mediterranean destination of Tarshish targeted by Tyrian or perhaps Sidonian kings possibly with biblical partners certainly reflect a sense of reconnaissance and a transient presence rather than colonisation [7]. The enigma of where Tarshish was located has been discussed at length elsewhere [8], but the Iberian Peninsula, around Huelva seems likely. What should be asked is if independent maritime ventures had been conducted to the distant reaches of the Mediterranean before formal, wealth-gathering missions were financed by Levantine states and if so, how long had ships been venturing west? Knowledge transfer must have been at play for decades, possibly many decades, for the Levantine states to even contemplate risky westward ventures. In Huelva archaeological data point to at least the second half of the tenth century and the first half of the ninth century BC for a solid presence in the region, estimates supported by absolute radiocarbon determinations [9]. Phoenician pottery at the site carries Tyrian and Sareptan traits [10]. Carthage (Tunisia), too, has provided some comparable dates [11].

B — Establishment of seasonal merchant staging posts (such as at Mogador [12], or Nora [13] and development of market-based enclaves harvested the resources of the interior through infiltration of existing indigenous networks. Peckham argued that Sidonians in particular might have operated within the local communities leaving a minimal footprint in the western Mediterranean [14]. Fledgling bases should be seen as a pre-colonial Phoenician presence in the west [15]. True to Phoenician form, these footholds are coastal, often fo- cused on or near rivers, off-shore islands or defensible peninsulas. Growth of more permanent settlements was based largely on resource acquisition and self-sufficient economic activities as well as access to superior anchorage [16].

C — Migration of people from the Levant probably on a large scale and driven by a number of factors, can also be added to the mix. These population displacements took place in the eighth to sixth century BC. Economic motives such as poor prospects for social development at home [17] and optimism that the new lands held promise became a lure. Political refugees may have swelled the numbers leaving the homeland states, among them people of status, the aristocracy and clergy. The fall of Sidon (c. 750–675 BC) at the hands of the Assyrian king may have stimulated an increase in flight to the west, just as the foundation saga of Carthage points to internal political trouble in Tyre and the flight of a significant section of the local aristocracy. The process of migration in all likelihood gained momentum as success stories of those who went before them filtered back to the homeland.

Examples of imported red slip in Malta: a handful of sherds found at Tas-Silġ (south); a piriform jug fragment probably from Sardinia found at Tas-Silġ; check Italian Missions (north); a piriform jug fragments from Rabat; a thistle-head beaker of exceptional quality in Mdina Cathedral Museum.

One noteworthy aspect of Phoenician culture in the lands of the Mediter- ranean coastal rim is that the components are rarely a carbon copy of the homeland nor was it reproduced exactly from one colony to the next18. Imported red slip does not figure in great numbers in all Phoenician settlements though it remains a clear indicator of contact between east and west; this is true of Malta and of sites outside the archipelago [19]. In Sardinia, the effects of Phoenicians traders and settlers are felt as early as the mid-eighth century BC where a distinct regional ceramic repertoire evolves from both the indigenous nuraghic and east Mediterranean industries [20]. Much the same pattern of cultural convergence has been observed on the west coast of Spain where pottery bore traits of both local and Phoenician industries.[21] The presence of hybrid pottery forms and the complexity of assigning ethnic affiliations to their features was equally evident in Lixus (Morocco) where the early levels have been dated from 820 to 770 cal. BC.22

In Motya off the west coast of Sicily, the earliest Phoenician levels (Phase 9) reached under the cothon temple in recent excavations yielded almost no direct eastern and Aegean imports or their copies [23]. Pottery fragments dated the level to first half of the eighth century BC [24]. Significantly, a similar dearth of Aegean artefacts has been observed for the earliest tombs in Malta [25], perhaps indicating the hallmark, the cultural stamp, of the early Phoenician cultural presence in the central Mediterranean region; one that might have wider implications generally for the west. Fletcher suggested that infiltration of the Mediterranean probably involved the “cooperative ventures of Greeks and Phoenicians, particularly Euboeans and north Phoenicians” [26], but this might not be typical of the earliest merchant vanguard from the Levant. If we can place any trust in the ancient accounts of reconnaissance missions by Levantine states to far off Tarshish, then we should not expect that a third party, Greek or otherwise, played a role in these economic forays.

ARCHAEOLOGICAL EVIDENCE FOR THE PHOENICIAN PRESENCE IN MALTA

In this westward movement, Malta may have featured from the beginning (Stage A), but this was not fabled Tarshish and, in the absence of textual evidence, the part it played in Phoenician infiltration of the west must be teased from archaeological record. The islands’ main advantages were their central location at the heart of the maritime routes and proximity to both Sicily and North Africa. Significant ports and coastal inlets that would have facilitated safe anchorage did not go unnoticed. Of its local industries, purple murex dye and basketry may have been local products before Phoenician ships appeared in Maltese waters [27]. Water and food staples for mariners to replenish their ships before sailing onward were invaluable resources in this central Mediterranean location. There is no evidence that the Phoenicians were shown hostility by local inhabitants nor are there signs that the Phoenicians used force to infiltrate the islands. To date weaponry is not known in Melitan Phase I, Phoenician-Punic contexts [28]. The non-military nature of the island is certainly a trait that emerges from Ovid’s account of Anna fleeing from Carthage to Malta [29]. Whether embellished through poetic license or not, in the account Melita is credited with a ruling class. The reason for eventually sending the Carthaginian refugee on her way again was a reluctance to enter into hostilities with the Tyrian king, Pygmalion or Pummayyaton (820–774 BC), of entering into a war they had no hope of winning. We should not overlook the chronological implications of a tradition in which a well-established Melitan society governed by a monarch was in place when Carthage was founded. [30]

What are lacking in Malta and Gozo are published domestic or commercial architectural remains from the contact period, but by implication the distribution of necropoleis from the coast to the interior clearly indicates that settlements existed. The island was quickly infiltrated to central locations such as the Rabat-Mdina, Ghar Barka, Qalillija and Buskett Gardens regions (fig. 1:1) [31]. Reports of Phoenician archaeological deposits (three phases of architecture that included “mortar floors, hearths and traces of a rectangular structure with rubble foundations”)[32] in close association with Bronze Age material in Mdina may indicate Phoenician strategies of tapping into existing indigenous economic and social networks were highly successful in the island. Overall, the evidence is growing for a Phoenician presence in the west by the ninth century BC, evident at Huelva, Lixus, and Carthage. Malta’s early involvement in the infiltration of the west by Levantine interests rests on a simple premise. There is adequate funerary evidence that Phoenicians had settled in Malta in the eighth century BC, but this is not the first sign of contact. Significantly there are tombs that display a previous stage in the pottery repertoire that by implication are earlier again [33].

Tomb pottery in a burial in Mellieħa (Malta) in 1913 (fig. 1:3-10) [34], for instance, demonstrates the closest direct link to the homeland in Malta, especially its large jar (fig. 1:6), which is similar to Tyre al-Bass Urn burial 42–1. [35] The tomb reflects the established Melitan Phase I (or Stages B or C in the colonisation of the west Mediterranean). The Mellieħa urn finds no other exact parallel in Malta although it might represent the beginning of a trend away from the hand-made baggy urns of the archaic Melitan Phase I tombs to tall-necked, wheel-made urns of the established and late Phase I (table 1) [36]. The limited range of vessels placed with it conforms to contemporary homeland shapes. Mushroom-topped jugs with square-cut, horizontal outer lip are thought to be early (figs 1:10 has a damaged lip) [37]. The down-turned, curved mushroom-shaped top found at other locations in the Mediterranean are virtually absent in Malta (cf. fig. 2:2) [38]. It was associated with two piriform, trefoil-mouthed jugs that can be likened to those from Tyre (fig. 1:3) [39]. A hemispherical bowl (fig. 1:8) and another bowl with re-entrant rim (fig. 1:9) in the Mellieħa group are comparable to al-Bass CP 2b category [40] and Form CP 6a [41] respectively. Collectively the pottery range from Mellieħa falls within Tyre Strata III and II, Tyre al-Bass Phase IV, Iron Age II in the general region, Bikai’s Kition horizon or the second half of the eighth to early seventh century BC.42 Contemporary with this group is a grooved shoulder fragment from Tas-Silġ (fig. 3:10) that is a hand-made local imitation of the piriform jug (as in figs 1:3, or 3:3)43. Additional evidence of the early to established Melitan Phase I evidence has been discussed elsewhere, but significant tombs that were rock-cut and often of generous proportions dated to the eighth and seventh centuries held some Aegean imported wares, especially fine cups, items of personal adornment as well as an increased array of Levantine pottery shapes [44].

One further link to Tyre al-Bass is a triangular thin tab (fig. 3:6) that was probably snapped off a larger object and found among the pottery fragments in Tas-Silġ; that it finds direct parallels in the Tyre al-Bass cemetery is

remarkable [45]. Here they are described as ‘heart-shaped’ and two examples from Tombs 26/27 and 28/29 are dated to the second half of the eighth to the beginning of the seventh centuries BC46; a third piece from Tomb 55/56 is dated from the second quarter to the mid-eighth century BC.47 The function of these tabs could not be determined and their closed contexts within cine- rary urns mixed with bone material are all the more curious.48

On the whole, red slip is under-represented at Tas-Silġ (locally produced vessels in small amounts; imported specimens are rare, e.g. fig. 3:8-9) although the Italian Archaeological Missions to Malta from the 1960s to 1970s also reported the presence of small amounts of red-slipped plates and bowls in the northern sector that Ciasca dated to the eighth century BC [49].

Of the archaic tombs that reflect an earlier phase of contact with the east in Malta (that is Stage A), a number were located in the interior of the main island (fig. 1:1), perhaps pointing to Għajn Tuffieħa Bay on the west coast as one of several points of anchorage in Malta and Gozo. It is possible that these tombs reflect the influence of both Sidonian and Cypriot merchants who are suspected to have been in the region perhaps as early as the eleventh through to the eighth century BC [50]. At Buskett Gardens, for example, cremations in jars were placed in simple pits (fig. 2:2-12). [51] Vessels at this time are rather poor in production and comprise large locally inspired jars (not transport amphorae; fig. 2:4), large lamps (fig. 1:5 with single nozzle is rare, double nozzle is usual in Malta), high-shouldered bowls, vertical rimmed bowls and large plates with horizontal rims. Trefoil jugs were present (fig. 2:9-10, a shape not known in late Bronze Age contexts), but piriform types are very rare (fig. 1:3, two were found in the Buskett Gardens [68] tomb). Nor are neck-ridged jugs (e.g. figs 1:10; 4:6) common to all archaic tombs [52]. Of those that are present, they have square-cut outer lips, minimal flare in the rim to almost no rim (figs 2:2; 4:6); they are, nonetheless, the local variant of the mushroom-topped vessel known at other Mediterranean settlements. The archaic tomb contents reflect a more limited range of vessels and strong signs of hybridity. Certainly the shadowy, ‘ephemeral’ presence of Sidonian culture in the areas where they infiltrated mooted by Peckham [53], and clear tendency to assimilate could explain the different nature of the finds in Malta in the archaic period.

Within the cremation burial at Buskett Gardens [68] were several silver loop earrings, a decayed medallion and a scarab finger ring that bore the name Menkheperre. Scarabs certainly figured in the Tyre al-Bass jar burials and were the main “offering accompanying the remains of the dead man or woman” [54]. Assigned, without explanation, to the sixth or seventh centuries BC in the original brief report of the find [55], the Buskett Gardens scarab’s date remains ambiguous. If it refers to the royal king otherwise known as Thut-mose III, then a date of c. 1479–1425 BC is too high for even the earliest reckoning of the Phoenicians in the west. An alternative might be the high priest of the same name who assumed a kingship role during the Tanite period of the 21st dynasty in the south of Egypt. It is clear that the chronological path of succession for this dynasty is fraught with problems [56]. While it is tempting to accept this connection and so date the pottery from this tomb accordingly to 1045–992 BC that is towards the latter part of Menkheperre’s influence and with closer synchronism with the Maltese sequence, the evidence is far from straight forward. Jaeger’s study [57] of this specific category of scarab demonstrates the longue durée of examples that bear the name, Menkheperre, through and after the 18th to 24th dynasty. In addition, the name could also refer to the deity, Amun, [58] rather than a king, lengthening the time over which such artefacts were produced and thus further diminishing the scarab as a useful and precise dating tool. Notwithstanding the problems, the possibility that the scarab is from the turn of the second and first millennium, a date that one would expect for these early tombs, is worth bearing in mind.

As López Castro argued for the Iberian sites (drawing on alabaster cremation jars at Almuñecar, palatial proportioned architecture at Toscanos, at Morro de Mezquitilla both in Spain and at Abul in Portugal) [59], so the archaeology of Malta may demonstrate the possibility of social distinction that manifested itself in some form of local aristocratic leadership. Pit burials with cremation in jars such as those in Buskett Gardens soon give way to the practice of burials in rock-cut shaft and chamber tombs. Such graves continued on a millennium-long evolutionary path on the island. Eventually they were replaced by the concept of extensive catacomb complexes under Roman influence. Nonetheless, signs of social status (fig. 1:2), even in the pit burials were evident [60].

A terracotta sarcophagus containing human remains and an iron ring was found in a tomb chamber in a locality known as Għar Barka [121] on the outskirts of Rabat-Mdina (fig. 2:1) [61]. It displays a certain rustic quality in the modelling of the features, but it does fall into line with other sarcophagi found in the Levant from the thirteenth century and later Phoenician contexts that in turn drew on the Egyptian mummy-form anthropoid coffins for inspiration. Small breasts modelled on the body, fine facial features and delicately formed feet are female qualities. An origin perhaps among the Philistine tradition of fashioning anthropoid clay coffins has been already been suggested [62]. Stylistically and chronologically, it is closer to the forms found in thirteenth century Deir el-Balah and tenth century Palestine (Tell el-Fara, Lachish, Beth Shan) [63] than to the later marble examples from Sidon that date from the sixth to fourth century BC. The later group with carefully carved faces, a shrouded, almost featureless body and some definition at the foot of the lid testifies to long held trends in funereal iconographic depictions, but in Sidon the coffins also display Greek artistic qualities. Unlike these Levantine examples, the Maltese casket depicts a person in death with closed eyes and shrouded body. We can make some chronological headway, if we consider the clay from which it is manufactured. Unlike the common crisp ware of the later Phoenician-Punic period, the sarcophagus is built from a reddish yellow ware with red burnished and slipped surfaces characteristic of the early Phoenician pottery repertoire on the island. Unfortunately, the Għar Barka burial was discovered through antiquarian interests in 1797 and little is known of its context. It is not the only example to be found in Malta, but it is the only one to survive in the public arena. Like the sarcophagi from Sidon [64], however, this and the few other examples in Malta [65] as well some signs of personal wealth in other burials, point to a degree of social status within society from an early date [66].

THE IMPACT OF THE WINE TRADE AND CHANGING FOOD CONSUMPTION

Malta’s archaeological record also reflects the economic trends of the greater Mediterranean region. The role of the hand-made cooking pot although recognised at many sites in the west is a curious commodity placed in the tombs (figs 1:4; 2:12; 3:1-2). Perhaps Fletcher came close to its function when he described the form as a ‘mug’ [67]. In Malta, the type does not always show signs of wear or heat damage from use as a cooking pot as one might expect. Is it possible that the pot represents the portion of food distributed to an individual at table [68]? In Phoenician contexts, the one-handled, hand- and later wheel-made pot might represent a reasonably standard food portion in the home or for the mariner at sea. In function only, a parallel could be drawn to the typologically and culturally unrelated conical pot (the bevelled-rim bowl) in Uruk of the fourth millennium BC used as measures in the distribution of grain or bread [69]. Eventually the one-handled pot in Phoenician contexts gave way presumably to plates and bowls as the preferred tableware.

The plate with its distinct deep floor and wide rim no doubt was strongly influenced by Greek traditions — further evidence of the cultural interplay in Mediterranean societies [70].

In the Melitan archaic Phase I tombs, tall-necked beakers (figs 2:5; 3:4-5; 4:4; Culican’s thistle-headed beakers or Cintas’ ‘vase à chardon’) were probably the primary drinking vessel. We can only speculate that if it had a specific function perhaps for the consumption of beer or some other beverage whether intoxicating or not, the shape did became extinct as wine consumption took hold in the settlements [71]. The beaker shape itself may signify new rituals and cultural practices filtering into the island, but they ceased to appear in the funerary deposits probably in favour of more refined drinking cups whether imported or locally produced models of Aegean forms. Greek-styled skyphoi and shallow kylikes (fig. 4:5) have been closely associated with wine consumption in Mediterranean sites. In particular, the latter cup form survived and evolved throughout the Phoenician-Punic phases in the funerary repertoire in Malta and was eventually replaced by Roman-inspired cups. It is clear that wine continued to be imbibed in the archipelago, but not with the same range of vessels that marked its first appearance.

The import-export wine trade required large transport jars, but amphorae do not figure among the grave goods of the earliest Melitan tombs (Archaic Phase I and Early Phase I)72. This might indicate that in the early forays to the west, wine was not among the ships’ cargoes that is, prior to the eighth century BC. The deep-sea wrecks (‘Tanit’ and ‘Elissa’) found 30 km out to sea from Ashkelon whether headed for Egypt or the west Mediterranean clearly demonstrated that the wine trade was in full swing by the eighth century [73]. Wine consumption might not have gained full momentum as a sought-after commodity until Phoenician settlements were well-established and immigration from the Levantine coast increased. With the new arrivals came their taste for the beverage. Greek colonial infiltration of the west may have further accelerated the demand.

Other than Aegean-styled cups, a range of pottery utensils was associated with the prestigious practice of drinking wine, in preparing wine for the table. In Sardinia, finer table wares including the locally produced cups of Euboean inspiration, tripod and ring-based mortars — the latter a local development — point to the consumption of wine that played a part in the orientalising process and in defining social hierarchy [74]. Similarly, in Etruria and Latium Vetus there were enough new influences travelling inland along the Tiber tributaries to trigger significant changes in the products emerging from Villanovan pottery workshops, including the appearance of red fabrics, in contexts traditionally dated to the late ninth to early eighth century B.C [75]. Vessel forms such as jugs appearing in the cemeteries of Veii point to new ritual practices and the introduction of wine in the region might indicate not just a Greek, but also a Near Eastern presence. Tripod mortars found in the settlements of eastern Iberia, too, were directly linked to the practice of spicing or sweetening wine.[76]

Although Culican argued that pear-shaped flasks (ampoules)[77] were used to hold oil, he observed that the flasks and tripod mortars [78] were often found together in archaeological contexts (largely tomb finds) up to, but not later than 600 BC [79] and they were “evidence for pre-6th c. Phoenician colonial activity” [80]. To this combination could be added the dipper juglet, which can also be present (fig. 4:2) [81]. Recently, through Orsingher’s detailed study, variations of the form can now be dated quite firmly between 760 – 500 BC and in themselves these pear-shaped flasks figure are important dating evidence for the contexts in which they are found [82]. In turn, others have argued that tripod bowls were also linked with Phoenician amphorae as part of wine consumption [83]. Considering this possibility, it might be more appropriate not to refer to the small flasks as ‘oil’ containers. In Malta, a range of small pear-shaped flasks (fig. 4:1) [84] and tripod mortars (fig. 4:3) [85] were placed in funerary deposits dated to the Melitan Established Phase I, a period that coincided with full scale Phoenician immigration (Stage C). That they fell from use might indicate that as wine drinking spread in popularity, different forms of preparation and table etiquette that did not require specialised utensils may have developed in Phoenicians cultural circles. Examples of pear-shaped flasks found in Carthage were considered locally produced and a few were imported [86]. In Lixus, both tripod bowls and small flasks were ‘virtually absent’ in the earliest levels, but occur in early seventh century BC contexts, which correlates with development of the pottery repertoire in Malta [87]. In addition, biconical trefoil jugs (figs 1:3; 3:3, 8; 4:7) were produced that were modelled on metal prototypes with red-slipped surfaces that sought to mimic the bronze metal hue [88]. Núñez Calvo also argued that the Tyre al-Bass evidence is the earliest secure context for the piriform shape with globular body that falls within the transitional Early to Late Iron Age [89}. This shape, too, he considered, was connected to the introduction of wine drinking and the changes in cultural artefacts it stimulated [90].

In Malta, the tomb found at Għajn Qajjied reflects these trends (in Stage C)91. The find is well-known for its two imported Greek cups that form a solid basis for the relative chronology of Melitan Phase I tombs including those that pre- or post-date the burial. All of these issues have been debated at length elsewhere [92], but significantly it reflects almost the full range of vessels thought to complement the art of wine drinking at the time: large transport amphorae (new to the Melitan Phase I funerary repertoire), fine Aegean cups, tripod mortar, pear-shaped flasks and a dipper juglet. In addition, clear signs of wealth were present in the ample proportions of the rock-cut tomb, a bed-like platform or bier for the deceased, imported bronze and silver jewellery, an imported bead, a Cypriot bronze tripod lamp support (fig. 3:11) — a unicum to Malta — and iron rings that are remnants perhaps of wooden furniture.

If all of these pottery shapes — transport amphorae, piriform jugs, pear- shaped flasks, dipper juglets, tripod bowls and fine drinking cups — played a role in the art of drinking wine in daily life, then their presence in burials during the seventh century may have signified the importance of the practice that was carried into the funerary arena. Thus reflecting on, as it has been argued, the prestige attached to the practice, especially in the early years of its commercial production where scarcity added to its value.

SOME CONCLUSIONS

Malta appears to have fossilised traits that signify stages of development in Phoenician cultural contact in the west. Clearly, there were enough Phoenicians in the fledgling Melitan settlements to know what pottery they needed for their daily lives, but not necessarily the Phoenician potters to produce the wares. If we focus on the Melitan pottery repertoire, it is apparent that various influences are probably at play. Hybridity resulting from the mingling of new, perhaps at first Sidonian and local interests, the adoption of new dining practices, the differing skills with which locals or settlers managed to hand build or throw pottery and the impact of not relying on homeland products for their daily, ritual or funerary needs may have all left their mark. The greatest and least predictable variable was the manner in which Levantine culture infiltrated the western regions. This process may have been significantly influenced by the nature of the sailors manning the individual ships who first made landfalls in the west. Tyre’s cosmopolitan maritime crews and ship-building workforce is conveyed, for instance, in biblical references [93].

The proximity of Malta to North Africa and the new colony of Carthage was not lost on the ancient authors. Whether pure fable or woven with some reliable historic threads, Ovid’s account of Anna fleeing to Malta continues to be debated. Significantly, Malta was thought to have already been within the Phoenician ambit with an aristocratic ruling class well before Carthage was settled.

The archaeological evidence supports this general view of Malta in the early years of the settlement. Home to an elite, prosperous element in Melitan society who were affluent enough to have elaborate burials with sarcophagi, rock-hewn chamber tombs and intrinsically valuable and other prestigious items of personal adornment or use. Wine consumption that may have required an array of utensils in the early years of its distribution around the Mediterranean left its mark on the local Melitan pottery repertoire. As wine drinking developed and perhaps became more widely available (not just the choice of beverage among the well-to-do), so the specialised pottery vessels became extinct. What followed in Malta was a Phoenician-Punic cultural continuity that may be unmatched in the Mediterranean lands that they touched.

1 D. TANASI, La Sicilia e l’Arcipelago Maltese nell’età del Bronze Medio, Palermo 2008.

2 J.D. EVANS, Prehistoric Antiquities of the Maltese Islands, London 1971, p. 226- 228; D.H. TRUMP, Skorba, Oxford 1966, p. 50.

3 EVANS, Prehistoric (n. 3), p. 226, 228.

4 B. PECKHAM, “Phoenicians in Sardinia: Tyrians or Sidonians?”, in M.S.BALMUTH – R.H. TYKOT (ed.) Sardinian and Aegean Chronology: Towards the Resolution of Relative and Absolute Dating in the Mediterranean, Oxford 1998, p. 349-353; H.G. NIEMEYER, “On Phoenician Art and its Role in Trans-Mediterranean Interconnections ca. 1100-600 BC”, in N.C. STAMPOLIDIS – V. KARAGEORGHIS (ed.),[Ploes] Sea Routes: Interconnections in the Mediterranean 16th-6th c. BC. Proceed- ings of the International Symposium held at Rethymnon, Crete, September 29th – October 2nd 2002, Athens 2003, p. 201; R. FLETCHER, “The Cultural Biography of a Phoenician Mushroom-Lipped Jug”, OJA 25, 2006, p. 189.

5 Velleius Paterculus Historiae Romanae I:2.3, I:8.4; Pliny Natural History 19:216; Strabo Geography I:3.2; Pomponius Mela Description of the World 3:6.46.

6 With sound reason, some scholars continue to support a late second-early first millennium Phoenician presence in the west based on radiocarbon analyses and archaeological contexts: A.J. NIJBOER, “A Phoenician Family Tomb, Lefkandi, Huelva and the Tenth Century BC in the Mediterranean”, in C. SAGONA (ed.), Beyond the Homeland: Markers in Phoenician Chronology, Leuven 2008, p. 373-374; idem, “Italy and the Levant during the Late Bronze Age and Iron Age (1200-750/700 BC)”, ibidem, p. 425; H.G. NIEMEYER, art. cit. (n. 4), p. 201; idem, “Phoenician of Greek: is there a Reasonable Way Out of the Al Mina Debate”, Ancient West and East 3, 2004, p. 45.

7 I KINGS 10:22; E. LIPIŃSKI, Itineraria Phoenicia, Studia Phoenicia 18, OLA 127, Leuven 2004, p. 226-265; B.J. BEITZEL, “Was there a joint nautical venture on the Mediterranean Sea by Tyrian Phoenicians and early Israelites?”, BASOR 37, 2010, p. 37-66; F. GONZÁLEZ DE CANALES CERISOLA – F. SERRANO PICHARDO – J. LLOMPART GÓMEZ, “Tarshish and the United Monarchy of Israel”, ANES 47, 2010, p. 137-164.

8 E. LIPIŃSKI, op. cit. (n. 8), p. 225-265; F. GONZÁLEZ DE CANALES CERISOLA – F. SERRANO PICHARDO – J. LLOMPART GÓMEZ, El emporio fenicio precolonial de Huelva (ca. 900-770 a.C), Madrid 2004; idem, “The Emporium of Huelva and Phoenician chronology: present and future possibilities”, in C. SAGONA (ed.), op. cit. (n. 6), p. 642-646, discusses in detail the implications of Biblical references to Tarshish and its likely location at Huelva.

9 F. GONZÁLEZ DE CANALES CERISOLA – F. SERRANO PICHARDO – J. LLOMPART GÓMEZ, “The Pre-colonial Phoenician Emporium of Huelva ca 900-770 BC”, Bulletin Antieke Beschaving 81, 2006, p. 13-29; idem, “The Emporium of Huelva and Phoenician chronology: present and future possibilities”, in C. SAGONA (ed.) op. cit. (n. 6), p. 650-652; idem, art. cit. (n. 7), p. 137-140.

10. M. GONZÁLEZ DE CANALES CERISOLA – F. SERRANO PICHARDO – J. LLOMPART GÓMEZ, art. cit. (n. 9), p. 15.

11 R.F. DOCTER, et alii, “New Radiocarbon Dates from Carthage: Bridging the Gap between History and Archaeology?”, in C. SAGONA (ed.) op. cit. (n. 6), p. 379-422.

12 E. PAPPA, “Reflections on the Earliest Phoenician Presence in North-West Afri- ca”, Talanta 40-41, 2008-2009, p. 56-58.

13 E. LIPIŃSKI, op. cit. (n. 7), p. 244-246.

14 B. PECKHAM, art. cit. (n. 4), p. 349-351.

15 F. GONZÁLEZ DE CANALES CERISOLA – F. SERRANO PICHARDO – J. LLOMPART GÓMEZ, art. cit. (n. 9), p. 13-29.

16 M. GUIRGUIS, “Il repertorio ceramico fenicio della Sardegna: differenziazioni regionali e specificità evolutive”, in L. NIGRO (ed.), Motya and the Phoenician Ceramic Repertoire between the Levant and the West 9th – 6th Century BC. Proceed- ings of the International Conference held in Rome, 26th February 2010, Quaderni di Archeologia Fenicio-Punica 5, Rome 2011, p. 173-210.

17 J.L. LÓPEZ CASTRO, “Colonials, Merchants and Alabaster Vases: the Western Phoenician Aristocracy”, Antiquity 80, 2006, p. 74-88,
18M. GUIRGUIS, art. cit. (n. 17), p. 173; idem, “Produzioni ceramiche fenicie tra Oriente e Occidente: tre urne inedite dal tofet di Sulky”, in L’Africa romana XVIII, Olbia 2008, 2010, p. 1208.

19M. GUIRGUIS, art. cit. (n. 17), p. 175, red-slipped finds from the earliest settlements in Sardinia are rare and difficult to identify as either local or imported products.

20M. GUIRGUIS, art. cit. (n. 19), p. 1207-1208.

21J. VIVES-FERRÁNDIZ, “Negotiating Colonial Encounters: Hybrid Practices and

Consumption in Eastern Iberia (8th-6th centuries BC)”, Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology 21, 2008, p. 249-252.

22 C. ARANEGUI – M. LÓPEZ-BERTRAN – J. VIVES-FERRÁNDIZ, “The Strait and Be- yond: Local Communities in Phoenician Lixus (Larache, Morocco)”, in C. SAGONA (ed.), Ceramics of the Phoenician-Punic World: Collected Essays, Ancient Near Eastern Studies Supplement 36, Louvain 2011, p. 301.

23L. NIGRO, “Alle origini di Mozia: stratigrafia e ceramica del Tempio del Kothon dall’VIII al VI secolo a A.C.”, in idem., op. cit. (n. 17), p. 41.

24 Ibidem, p. 8.

25C. SAGONA, The Archaeology of Punic Malta, Ancient Near Eastern Studies Supplement 9, Louvain 2002, p. 29-39; idem, “Malta: Between and Rock and a Hard Place”, in idem (ed.), op. cit. (n. 6), p. 511-512.

26R. FLETCHER, art. cit. (n. 4), p. 187.

27C. SAGONA, “Silo or Vat? Observations on the Ancient Textile Industry in Malta and Early Phoenician Interests in the Island”, OJA, 1999, p. 23-60; idem, “Observations on the Late Bronze Age and Phoenician-Punic Pottery in Malta”, in idem (ed.), op. cit. (n.

22), p. 418, for remnant traces of basket industry.

28 Cf. the evidence of the Nora Stone inscription perhaps describing a Phoenician military presence in the west (in Sardinia?): B. PECKHAM, “The Nora Inscription”, Orientalia 41, 1972, p. 457-468; B.J. BEITZEL, art cit. (n. 7), p. 38-39; F.M. CROSS, “An Interpretation of the Nora Stone”, BASOR 208, 1972, p. 13-19; W.H. SHEA, “The Dedication on the Nora Stone”, VT 41, 1991, p. 241-245; M. DELCOR, “Réflexions sur l’inscription phénicienne de Nora en Sardaigne”, Syria 45, 1968, p. 323-352, among other interpretations.

29 Ovid Fasti, Book 3.555-580.

30C. SAGONA, art. cit. (n. 25), in idem. op. cit. (n. 6), p. 510.

31 For Melitan archaic Phoenician tombs in Malta, see Table 1; C. SAGONA, op. cit.(n. 25), p. 29-39.

32 N. CUTAJAR, “Recent Discoveries and the Archaeology of Mdina”, Treasures of Malta 8, 2001, p. 81, fig. 1, left, depicts a carinated bowl from the excavations in Xara Palace, Mdina, probably of Form I:3, a shape appearing in the Archaic to Early Phase I, see C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), p. 168, fig. 340:16. Also illustrated (fig. 1, right) is a double cordon handle from a small vessel, for example, the piriform jug Form I:1, fig. 340:5.

33 C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), Buskett Gardens [69], p. 786-787, figs 7:20-31; 8:5- 11; [68] 9:1-11 [= fig. 2:2-12].

34F.J. NÚÑEZ CALVO, “Preliminary Report on Ceramics from the Phoenician Ne-

cropolis of Tyre-al Bass”, in M.E. AUBET (ed.), The Phoenician Cemetery of Tyre-Al Bass. Excavations 1997-1999, BAAL Supplement 1, Beirut 2004, p. 290, fig. 144. For further detailed discussion of the chronological implications of Mellieħa tomb, see C. SAGONA, art. cit. (n. 27), in idem, op. cit. (n. 22), p. 418-422.

35 M.E. AUBET, “Discussion and Conclusions”, in eadem (ed.), op. cit. (n. 35), p. 460; M. GUIRGUIS, art. cit. (n. 19), on the crater form from Sulkis.

36 High-necked urns after the homeland tradition: C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), p. 95-97, Urn Form 1:4a-d, figs 340:2-3; 341:3, 5; p. 98-99, Urn Form I-II:1a, 2, fig.342:1, 3.

37 R. FLETCHER, art. cit. (n. 4), p. 183, after P.M. BIKAI, “The Phoenician Imports”, in V. KARAGEORGHIS (ed.), Excavations at Kition IV, The Non-Cypriote Pottery, Nicosia 1981, p. 23-36.

38 A mushroom lip jug top was found in Mtarfa [293], C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), item 9, Form I:3a, p. 120, 882-886, figs 54:7, 58:5; W. CULICAN, “The Repertoire of Phoenician Pottery”, in H.G. NIEMEYER (ed.), Phönizier im Westen, Die Beiträge des Internationalen Symposiums über “Die phönizische Expansion im westlichen Mittel- meerraum: in Köln vom 24. bis 27. April 1979, Mainz 1982, p. 77-78, fig. 14:t .

39 The shape falls with in the range presented in F.J. NÚÑEZ CALVO, art. cit. (n. 34), jug or pitcher Form JV 2, p. 320, 318-320.

40 Ibidem, Bowl form CP 2b, p. 332-333, fig. 199.

41 Ibidem, Bowl form CP 6a, p. 338, fig. 213.

42 Ibidem, p. 363.

43 TSG96/2105/8, C. SAGONA (forthcoming), the pottery from Tas-Silġ (the Uni- versity of Malta excavations 1996-2005) will appear in the Ancient Near Eastern Studies, Supplement series, Leuven.

44 E.g. C. SAGONA op. cit. (n. 25), Għajn Klieb [90], p. 794-796, figs 12:11, 14:2-4.

45 TSG96/147/1, C. SAGONA (forthcoming), op. cit. (n. 43). Cf. F.J. NÚÑEZ CALVO, art. cit. (n. 34), Tomb 27, p. 163, fig. 78:4; Tomb 29, p. 165, fig. 80:6; Tomb 56, p. 192, fig. 107:4.

46 F.J. NÚÑEZ CALVO, art. cit. (n. 34),Tomb 26/27, p. 455, fig. 303 bottom, Tomb 28/29, p. 455, fig. 304 top.

47 Ibidem, Tomb 55/56, p. 457, fig. 305 bottom.

48 M.E. AUBET, art. cit. (n. 35), p. 59.

49 A. CIASCA, “Sicilia e Malta. Note su repertori ceramici a confronto”, in A. GONZÁLEZ PRATS (ed.), La cerámica fenicia en occidente: centros de producción y áreas de comercio, Actas de I seminario Internacional sobre Temas Fenicios, Guar- damar del Segura, 21-24 de noviembre de 1997, Alicante, 1999, p. 75, fig. 6.

50 B. PECKHAM, art. cit. (n. 4), p. 351, cites a Borsa inscription and orientalising figurines in Sardinia, the Nora inscription, the smiting god figurine in Sicilian waters and textual reference two generations of Sidonian craftsmen settled in Spain as early evidence of Sidonian infiltration of the west Mediterranean; R. FLETCHER, art. cit. (n. 4), p. 189-190.

51 C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), Buskett Gardens [68], p. 786, figs 7:20-31; 9:1-11; [69], p. 786-787, fig. 8:5-11.

52 Archaic tombs with no neck-ridged jugs: C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), Għajn Klieb [98], p. 801-802; figs 16:7-8; 18:1-11; Qalillija [344], p. 916-918, figs 99:1-6; 100:1-7; Qalillija [361], p. 929-931, figs 103:1-12; 104:1-5; 105:1-6.

53B. PECKHAM, art. cit. (n. 4), p. 350.

54I. GAMER-WALLERT, “The Scarabs”, in M.E. Aubet (ed.) op. cit. (n. 34), p. 397-

413.C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), Buskett Gardens [68], p. 786, fig. 7:20-31.

55C.G. ZAMMIT, “Burial at Buskett Gardens”, in Annual Report on the Working of the Museum Department during 1937-38, Malta 1938, p. 3-4.

56 E.F. WENTE, “On the Chronology of the Twenty-First Dynasty”, JNES 26, 1967, esp. 158-159; G. HAGENS, “A Critical Review of Dead-Reckoning from the 21st Dynasty”, JARCE 33, 1996, p. 154-163; A. NIWIŃSKI, “Problems in the Chronology and Genealogy of the XXIst Dynasty: New Proposals for their Interpretation”, JARCE 16, 1979, p. 58-68.

57 B. JAEGER, Essai de classification et datation des scarabées Menkhéperrê, Ar- chaeologica series 2, Fribourg 1982, p. 239-242 for XXIst dynasty scarabs.

58 W.H. PECK, “Review of Essai de classification et datation des scarabées Men- khéperrê, by BERTRAND JAEGER, Fribourg”, JNES 46, 1987, p. 235; A. SCHULMAN, “Review of Essai de classification et datation des scarabées Menkheperre, by BERTRAND JAEGER, Fribourg”, AJA 88, 1984, p. 410.

59 J.L. LÓPEZ CASTRO, art. cit. (n. 17), p. 78-82, fig. 6. Whether actual palatial residences or commercial buildings have been debated, but their substantial nature has not.

60 C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), Buskett Gardens [68], p. 786, fig. 7:20-31, silver earrings, rings and pendant.

61 A. A. CARUANA, Report on the Phoenician and Roman Antiquities in the Group of Islands of Malta, Malta 1882, p. 29.

62 D. HARDEN, The Phoenicians, Harmondsworth 1971, p. 102.

63 G. HÖLBL, Ägyptisches Kulturgut auf den Insel Malta und Gozo in phönikischer und punischer Zeit, Die Objekte im Archäologischen Museum von Valletta, Vienna 1989, p. 135-137, 144; cf. T.C. GOUDER, “Phoenician Malta”, Heritage (an Encyclopedia of Maltese Culture and Civilization) 9, 1978, p. 177, assigns the sarcophagus to the fifth century BC.

64 C. C. TORREY, A Phoenician Necropolis at Sidon, in AASOR 1 (1919-1920), p. 8.

65 A. A. CARUANA, Ancient Pottery from the Ancient Pagan tombs and Christian Cemeteries in the Islands of Malta, Malta 1899, p. 51; C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), p. 262-263.

66 Silver jewellery in the burials, especially in a tomb in Għajn Qajjied, Malta (see below), led M. GRAS – P. ROUILLARD – J. TEIXIDOR, “The Phoenicians and Death”, Berytus 39, 1991, p. 145, to suggest Malta was on the return trade route from Spain.

67 R. FLETCHER, art. cit. (n. 4), p. 178-179, concerning the pot.

68 C. SAGONA, art. cit. (n. 25), p. 200-203, Open Pots, Forms I:1a-c; I:2 and known examples listed there.

69 A.R. MILLARD, “The Bevelled-Rim Bowls: their Purpose and Significance”, Iraq 50, 1988, p. 49-57.

70 A. QUERCIA, “Typological and Morphological Remarks upon Some Vessels in the Repertoire of Pottery in Punic Malta,” in C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 22), 434-438.

71 In eastern regions of the Iberian Peninsula, evidence of grain-based, beer drink- ing was present prior to Phoenician infiltration and the eventual introduction of wine consumption; J. VIVES-FERRÁNDIZ, art. cit. (n. 21), p. 254-255.

72 C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), p. 87, figs 339, 340, cf. fig. 341.

73 L.E. STAGER, “Phoenician Shipwrecks in the Deep Sea”, in N.C. STAMPOLIDIS – V. KARAGEORGHIS, op. cit. (n. 4), p. 233-247.

74 M. GUIRGUIS, art. cit. (n. 18), p. 181-183.

75 M. BOTTO, “La ceramica fenicia dell’Etruria e dal Latium Vetus”, in L. NIGRO, op. cit. (n. 16), p. 154-156.

76 J. VIVES-FERRÁNDIZ, art. cit. (n. 21), p. 254-256, fig. 9.

77 W. CULICAN, “Phoenician Oil Bottles and Tripod Bowls”, Berytus 19, 1970, p.5-11, at that time he cited pear-shaped flasks in Mogador; Utica (630 BC); Carthage (early 7th century BC); Mersa Madakh (Oran Coast, earlier than 600 BC); Rachgoun (Oran Coast, 7th century BC); Motya (Sicily); Malta (720-620 BC); Tharros, Sulcis, Cagliari, Bithia and Nora (Sardinia, c.7th century BC); Toscanos, Monte Salamón and Carmona (7th century BC, Spain); possibly Amathus (Cyprus); Akhziv and Byblos (Levantine coast) — see CULICAN for references to these finds. Since then discus- sions or notice of further examples have been published: A. ORSINGHER, “Le oil bottles fenicie: analisi dei contesti e considerazioni crono-tipologiche”, Sardinia, Corsica et Baleares Antiquae 8, 2010, p. 37-69; Cruz del Negro (Carmona, Seville, Spain), M.E. AUBET, “La cerámica a torno de la Cruz del Negro (Carmona, Sevilla)”, Ampurias 38-40, 1981, p. 278-279, nos 13-14; Carthage, C. BRIESE, “Geschlossene Formen”, in H.G. NIEMEYER – R.F. DOCTER – B. BECHTOLD, et alii, Karthago, die Ergebnisse der Hamburger Grabung unter dem Decumanus Maximus, Mainz 2007, p. 325-326, fig. 145; Carthage (Household Room T 1), K. MANSEL, “Carthage’s Vessel Cupboard, Pottery of the Seventh Century BC”, in C. SAGONA, op. cit (n. 22), p. 368, fig. 7:16.

78 Tripod bowls, see W. CULICAN, art. cit. (n. 77), for references to finds. Recent finds and discussions: Carthage (Household Room T 1), K. MANSEL, art. cit. (n. 77), p. 355-357, figs 2:3; Huelva, F. GONZÁLEZ DE CANALES CERISOLA – F. SERRANO PICHARDO – J. LLOMPART GÓMEZ, op. cit. (n. 8), p. 77, nos XV.1 and XV.2; J. VIVES- FERRÁNDIZ, Negociando encuentros, Situaciones coloniales e intercambios en la costa oriental de la península Ibérica, Cuadernos de arqueología mediterránea 12, Barcelona 2005, p. 130-135; idem, art. cit. (n. 21), p. 254-256, fig. 9, depicts tripod bowls from the east Iberian coast.

79 W. CULICAN, art. cit. (n. 77), p. 6, 11. For tripod bowls and pear-shaped flasks in contextually close proximity in first half of the seventh century BC household con- texts in Carthage (Room T 1), K. MANSEL, art. cit. (n. 77), p. 355-357, 368, figs 2:3 (mortar); 7:16 (flask).

80 W. CULICAN, art. cit. (n. 77), p. 16.

81 Instances where dipper juglets are in close proximity to pear-shaped flasks and or tripod mortars: Carthage (Household Room T 1), K. MANSEL, art. cit. (n. 77), p. 368, figs 2:3 (tripod mortar); 7:8 (dipper); 16 (flask); C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), Għajn Qajjied [105], p. 808-812, figs 23:5, 2:1 (flask); 23:6, 26:2 (dipper); 24:6,:11 (tripod mortar).

82 A. ORSINGHER, art. cit. (n. 77), p. 37-69.

83 J. VIVES-FERRÁNDIZ, art. cit. (n. 21), p. 254-255; M. BOTTO, “Tripodi siriani e tripodi fenici dal Latium Vetus e dall’Etruria meridionale”, in P. BARTOLONI – L.CAMPANELLA (ed.), La ceramica fenicia di Sardegna. Dati, problematiche, confronti, Atti del Primo Congresso Internazionale Sulcitano, Rome 2000, p. 63-98.

84 C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), Juglet Forms I:2a-b, p. 138-139, figs 275:1-2; 276:8- 14; 341:15-16; E.M.C. GROENEWOUD – P. VIDAL GONZÁLEZ, “Phoenician Oil Bottles in Malta”, Journal of Mediterranean Studies 6, 1996, p. 197-205 (concerning long- known examples from Malta).

85 Tripod mortars in Malta: C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), p. 203-204, figs 24:6; 25:11; 26:3.

86 Carthage pear-shaped bottles, C. BRIESE, art. cit. (n. 77), p. 324, fig. 145, nos 1883 and 1886 appeared to be imported.

87C. ARANEGUI – M. LÓPEZ-BERTRAN – J. VIVES-FERRÁNDIZ, art. cit. (n. 22), p. 305, 319.

88 F.J. NÚÑEZ CALVO, “Referencias secuenciales del repertorio cerámico fenicio metropolitano de la edad del Hierro Tardío”, in L. NIGRO, op. cit. (n. 16), p. 56-60.

89Ibidem, p. 57.

90Ibidem, p. 58.

91C. SAGONA, op. cit. (n. 25), Għajn Qajjied [105], p. 808-812, figs 22-26.

92Ibidem, p. 39-49.