ANIMAL SACRIFICE IN THE ANCIENT

GREEK WORLD

This volume brings together studies on Greek animal sacrifice by

foremost experts in Greek language, literature and material culture.
Readers will benefit from the synthesis of new evidence and
approaches with a re-evaluation of twentieth-century theories on
sacrifice. The chapters range across the whole of antiquity and go
beyond the Greek world to consider possible influences in Hittite
Anatolia and Egypt, while an introduction to the burgeoning science
of osteo-archaeology is provided. The twentieth-century emphasis on
sacrifice as part of the Classical Greek polis system is challenged
through consideration of various ancient perspectives on sacrifice as
distinct from specific political or even Greek contexts. Many pre-
viously unexplored topics are covered, particularly the type of animals
sacrificed and the spectrum of sacrificial ritual, from libations to
lasting memorials of the ritual in art.

sarah hitch has held a Leverhulme Early Career Fellowship at

Corpus Christi College, University of Oxford, where she is now the
Associate Director of the Centre for the Study of Greek and Roman
Antiquity. She has researched and published widely on various aspects
of Greek religion.
ian rutherford is Professor of Greek at the University of
Reading. He is one of the foremost experts on ancient religion and
has published widely on the topic, including his recent monograph
State Pilgrims and Sacred Observers in Ancient Greece (Cambridge,
2013).
ANIMAL SACRIFICE IN THE
ANCIENT GREEK WORLD

edited by
SARAH HITCH
Corpus Christi College, Oxford

IAN RUTHERFORD
University of Reading
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names: Hitch, Sarah, editor of compilation. | Rutherford, Ian,
1959– editor of compilation.
title: Animal sacrifice in the ancient Greek world / [edited by] Sarah Hitch
(Corpus Christi College, Oxford), Ian Rutherford (University of Reading).
description: Cambridge, United Kingdom ; New York, ny : Cambridge
University Press, 2017. | Includes bibliographical references and indexes.
identifiers: lccn 2017012393 | isbn 9780521191036 (hardback)
subjects: lcsh: Animal sacrifice – Greece – History. |
Ritual – Greece – History. | Greece – Religious life and customs. | Animal remains
(Archaeology) – Greece. | Excavations (Archaeology) – Greece. |
Greece – Antiquities. | Social archaeology – Greece. | bisac:
history / Ancient / General.
classification: lcc bl795.s25 a64 2017 | ddc 292.3/4–dc23
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 Contents

List of Illustrations page vii

List of Contributors ix

Introduction 1
Sarah Hitch, Fred Naiden and Ian Rutherford

part i victims 13
1 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 15
Gunnel Ekroth
2 Venison for Artemis? The Problem of Deer Sacrifice 48
Jennifer Larson
3 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? Some
Thoughts on Bird Sacrifices in Ancient Greece 63
Alexandra Villing

part ii procedure 103

4 Reflections on Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 105
Stella Georgoudi
5 “Polis Religion” and Sacrificial Regulation 136
Fred Naiden
6 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 151
Jan-Mathieu Carbon

part iii representation 179

7 Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41 181
Oliver Thomas

v
vi Contents
8 Visualising Veneration: Images of Animal Sacrifice on Greek
Votive Reliefs 200
Anja Klöckner
9 Sacrifice in Drama: The Flow of Liquids 223
Richard Seaford

part iv margins 237

10 Animal Sacrifice in Hittite Anatolia 239
Alice Mouton
11 The Reception of Egyptian Animal Sacrifice in Greek Writers:
Ethnic Stereotyping or Transcultural Discourse? 253
Ian Rutherford
12 A Quiet Slaughter? Julian and the Etiquette of Public Sacrifice 267
Sergio Knipe

Bibliography 284
Index locorum 327
General Index 334
 Illustrations

1.1 Bovine skeleton. After F. T. van Straten, “The god’s portion in

Greek sacrificial representations: Is the tail doing nicely?”, in
Early Greek Cult Practice. Proceedings of the Fifth International
Symposium at the Swedish Institute at Athens, 26–29 June, 1986
(ActaAth-4°, 38), ed. R. Hägg, N. Marinatos and
G. C. Nordquist, Stockholm 1988, 59, fig. 13. page 16
1.2 The burning of the osphys in the fire on the altar. Red-figure
kylix, Oxford, Ashmolean Museum 1911.617. Photo Ashmolean
Museum, University of Oxford. 24
1.3 Sheep tail (to the left) and pig tail (to the right) burning on
a coal fire. Photo Gunnel Ekroth. 25
1.4 Attic red-figure bell-krater, Paris, Louvre G 496. Amorphous
bundle being placed in the altar fire. Photo © Musée du Louvre,
Dist. RMN-Grand Palais/Les frères Chuzeville. 25
1.5a–b Sheep’s thighbones and omentum (5a) and experimentally
formed bundle using these specimens (5b). Photo
G. E. Weissengruber. 26
2.1 Votive relief from the sanctuary of Artemis on Mt Kynthos on
Delos depicting a cervid being led to the altar. Photo École
française d’Athènes. 54
3.1 Attic red-figure bell krater, early fourth century bc, depicting
a Dionysiac procession to a herm. Ferrara, Museo Archeologico
Nazionale, inv. 8149. Photo © Ministero per i Beni e le Attività
Culturali. 67
3.2 Roman marble altar, late second–third century ad, depicting
a cockerel sacrifice to a priapic herm. London, British Museum
GR 1805,0703.206 (Sculpture 2489). Photograph © Trustees of
the British Museum. 71

vii
viii List of Illustrations
3.3 Attic white-ground cup by the Pistoxenos Painter, about
470–460 bc, depicting Aphrodite on a goose. London, British
Museum GR 1864,1007.77 (Vase D 2). Photograph © Trustees
of the British Museum. 80
3.4 Marble votive relief from Aigina, Palaiochora, about 400 bc.
Athens, National Archaeological Museum, inv. 1950. Deutsches
Archäologisches Institut Athen, Neg. no. D-DAI-ATH-NM
6275. Photo G. Hellner. 85
3.5a Attic red-figure Nolan amphora by the Nikon Painter, about
470–460 bc, depicting a woman and goose at an altar. Gela,
Museo Archeologico, inv. 9232; from Vassallagi/Sicily.
Photograph after NSA 9th ser. 9–10 (1998–9) 263 fig. 46.b. 89
3.5b Attic red-figure hydria by the Painter of London E183, about
430 bc, depicting an Eleusinian scene with Hekate (inscribed).
London, British Museum GR 1868,0606.8 (Vase E 183).
Photograph © Trustees of the British Museum. 90
8.1 Votive relief to Pancrates, from the sanctuary of Pancrates in
Athens (early Hellenistic). Athens, Fethiye Camii P 68 A:
Deutsches Archäologisches Institut Abteilung Athen, Inst. Neg.
Athen 1993/1213. 202
8.2 (a) Votive relief to Asclepius and Hygieia, from the Asclepieum
in Athens (second half of the fourth century bc). Athens, NM
1333: Deutsches Archäologisches Institut Abteilung Athen, Inst.
Neg. Athen NM 6246. Photo Gösta Hellner; (b) Detail of
fig. 8.2a. 203
8.3 (a) Votive relief to Zeus Meilichios, from the Piraeus (late fourth
century bc). Pireus, AM Pir 3: Deutsches Archäologisches
Institut Abteilung Athen, Inst. Neg. Athen Piräus 12; (b) Detail
of fig. 8.3a. 205
8.4 (a) Votive relief to Artemis, from Brauron (second half of the
fourth century bc). Brauron, AM1152: Deutsches
Archäologisches Institut Abteilung Athen, Inst. Neg. Athen
1989/1272. Photo Elmar Gehnen; (b) Detail of fig. 8.4a. 214
8.5 (a) Votive relief to Asclepius and Hygieia, from the Asclepieum
in Athens (second half of the fourth century bc). Athens, NM
1334: Deutsches Archäologisches Institut Abteilung Athen, Inst.
Neg. Athen NM 6343. Photo Eleutherios Feiler; (b) Detail of
fig. 8.5a. 217
11.1 Painting from the Tomb of Huy (Gardiner-Davies, 1926,
pl. xxx). 255
 Contributors

Sarah Hitch – Corpus Christi College, Oxford, UK

Ian Rutherford – University of Reading, UK
Gunnel Ekroth – Uppsala University, Sweden
Jennifer Larson – Kent State University, USA
Alexandra Villing – British Museum, UK
Stella Georgoudi – École Pratique des Hautes Études, Paris, France
Fred Naiden – University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, USA
Jan-Mathieu Carbon – University of Liège, Belgium
Oliver Thomas – University of Nottingham, UK
Anja Klöckner – Goethe University, Frankfurt, Germany
Richard Seaford – University of Exeter, UK
Alice Mouton – Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, Ivry sur
Seine, France
Sergio Knipe – Venice

ix
 Introduction
Sarah Hitch, Fred Naiden and Ian Rutherford

Animal sacrifice was not the most common ritual in the ancient world.
That distinction surely goes to prayer and also to the broad category
of offerings, which are the best-attested practice in the archaeological
record. Nevertheless, animal sacrifice was uniquely complex and presti-
gious, important not only within the cultures of the ancient
Mediterranean and Western Asia,1 but as far afield as India and
China.2 It is still practised all over the world; for example it has been
documented in many parts of Africa.3 When it develops in human
history is still uncertain, but it seems likely to go back at least as far as
the Neolithic, when animals are first domesticated, and it could be much
earlier.4
Nowhere does it seem to have been more important than in Greece,
where to ‘perform the sacred things’ often meant to sacrifice animals. It is
found in all periods of Greek history, from the Bronze Age right down to
the late Roman Empire. It begins to disappear only under pressure from
Christianity, which nevertheless preserved sacrifice as a religious symbol.5
The Greeks seem to have regarded their form of sacrifice as distinct from
those of other peoples, and the surviving evidence – literary texts, inscrip-
tions, iconography and zooarchaeological data – does indeed suggest a high
degree of uniformity, albeit with local variations.6

1
Near East: Pongratz-Leisten (2012); Maul (2008), Abusch (2002); Recht (2015).
2
India: Biardeau and Malamoud (1976); China: Stercx (2011); Campbell (2012).
3
Africa: Sundermeier (2002), de Heusch (1985), Insoll (2010).
4
See, e.g., Graf (2012:49–50); Insoll (2011), Evans-Pritchard (1954). Domestication: J. Z. Smith (1987).
5
For Mycenaean Greece, see Rutherford (2013:265). For the Christian attitude to sacrifice, see now
Stroumsa (2009), Petropoulou (2008), Ullucci (2012).
6
For variations in the practice of animal sacrifice in Greece, the locus classicus is the demonstration in
the Herodotean Life of Homer (523–37) that Homer must have been Aeolian because he does not
describe the burning of the osphus (sacrum bone); for the use of the osphus in sacrifice, see Carbon in
this volume (Chapter 6).

1
2 s a r a h h i t ch , f r e d n a i d e n a n d i an r ut h e r f o rd
At the same time, it was a complex system comprising several sacrificial
scripts.7 In the best-known script, the killing of an animal is preceded by
vegetal offerings and prayers, and followed by the burning of symbolic
parts of it on the altar, libations, and the consumption of the rest by an
assembled group of worshippers. Here the gods were not imagined as
taking part in the human feast, but in another script, the so-called theoxenia
ritual, they supposedly ate both meat and other foods.8 In a third common
script the animal was burned whole and there were no vegetal offerings or
libations. If the remains were buried in a pit, the ritual was directed to
a special class of divinities usually called chthonic.9
Sacrifice also occurred frequently as part of other rituals, such as
purification, oath-taking and divination,10 or as part of longer sequences,
such as a vow followed by a later sacrifice. No less important was the
practice of using substitutes for sacrifice: early in antiquity, models of
sacrificial animals supplemented, anticipated, or replaced acts of sacrifice;
later, payment of fees gave worshippers access to sacrificial altars, and
some sacrifices were commuted into cash payments. Common to all its
forms is the idea of some kind of reciprocal communication with the
divine realm by offering of a gift meant to secure divine good will or avert
divine anger.11
Until Christians and some pagan philosophers began to make concerted
criticisms of it early in the Common Era, the Greeks did not frequently talk
about the meaning of sacrifice as opposed to the ways and means of
successfully performing the ritual.12 (Hesiod’s view that sacrifice originated
in Prometheus’ attempt to deceive Zeus was never authoritative.)13 The
modern taste, on the other hand, tends to have been to go in for grand
theories about the significance of sacrifice:14 according to one influential
theory, it is all about the person making the offering, who achieves
a moment of intense, status-transforming communication with the deity,
and, since such contact is dangerous, the sacrificial victim is destroyed in

7
A good up-to-date survey is that in ThesCRA 1 (2004):59–134 (A. Hermary, M. Leguilloux,
V. Chankowski, A. Petropoulou).
8
Theoxenia: Jameson (1994a); Ekroth (2011).
9
For chthonic rituals, see Scullion (1994), Ekroth (2002).
10
For purification, see Georgoudi in this volume (Chapter 4); for oath-taking, see Seaford in this
volume (Chapter 9).
11
See Ullucci (2012:24–8) on the ‘reciprocal logic of sacrifice’; Pierce (1993).
12
In other words, Greek sacrifice is ‘non-discursive’, to use the terminology of Ullucci (2012:21). For
Greco-Roman accounts of the origin of sacrifice, see Prescendi (2007:169–223).
13
Hes.Theog. 535–57. Significantly, this aetiology is not explicitly referred to in any author in the
Classical period: Parker (2011:140).
14
Useful guides include Carter (2003) and the introduction to Knust and Várhelyi (2011).
 Introduction 3
the process as a substitute for the communicant and other worshippers.15
Another theory influential among Hellenists emphasises communal din-
ing, which has the effect of creating and reinforcing group solidarity and/or
internal hierarchy;16 a recent formulation of this theory sees it as a device
used by male kinship groups to assert control over human reproduction;17
a related theory developed by Walter Burkert envisions communal solidar-
ity generated by directing aggression onto the sacrificial victim.18
These big theories have recently met with criticism,19 but their chief
drawback is not what they may get wrong, but what they omit. On the one
hand, sacrifice let worshippers honour and communicate with the gods,
and on the other hand, it let them increase their individual or collective
prestige. It had, so to speak, a vertical and a horizontal dimension. Each of
these two dimensions needs to be understood in connection with the other.
The theology and the sociology of sacrifice need to be analysed together.
Though the grand theories are in retreat, interest in animal sacrifice
seems to have intensified in recent years.20 Often, case-studies deal with
traditions of sacrifice from certain phases of Greco-Roman religion, from
certain periods, or from neighbouring cultures. Other research deals with
the representation of sacrifice in a specific medium. Scholars aim not to
confirm the correctness of one particular model, but to explore differences.
We also see a focus on the idiosyncrasies of the evidence: epigraphical
sources, such as sacred laws, sacred calendars and other regulations set up
by the polis or other bodies;21 representations of sacrifice in poetry which
may have something to tell scholars about both the theology and the
sociology behind sacrifice;22 or iconography on vase-paintings and votive
stelai.23 Currently, the most important new material is coming from

15
Hubert and Mauss (1899); this theory was based on Vedic and Jewish sources and has never been
popular with Hellenists, though the notion of substitution is not alien to Greek religion. Maurice
Bloch’s theory of sacrifice (1992:24–45) has a lot in common.
16
W. Robertson Smith (1889); Detienne and Vernant (1979). 17 Jay (1992); see Stowers (1995).
18
Burkert (1983).
19
Recent critique of grand theories of sacrifice: on modern theories, see Lincoln (2012); Graf (2012);
Naiden (2013a:3–14, 276–316); Evans-Pritchard (1954).
20
Recent work includes the monographs of Ekroth (2002) and Naiden (2013a); Baumgarten (2002);
the edited volumes of Hägg and Alroth (2005); Georgoudi, Koch Piettre and Schmidt (2005);
Stavrianopoulou, Michaels and Ambos (2008); Mehl and Brulé (2008); Knust and Várhelyi (2011);
Pirenne-Delforge and Prescendi (2011); Faraone and Naiden (2012) and Porter and Schwartz (2012).
Also useful is the volume À quoi bon (se) sacrifier? Sacrifice, don et intérêt, published in La revue
du M.A.U.S.S. semestrielle No5, 1er semester 1995.
21
Lupu (2005: introduction).
22
Hitch (2007), Cingano (2004), Stocking (in press). For sacrifice narratives as a universe of literature,
see Hogan (2003:186–200).
23
For vase-painting, van Straten (1995); for votive stelai, see Klöckner in this volume (Chapter 8).
4 s a r a h h i t ch , f r e d n a i d e n a n d i an r ut h e r f o rd
archaeology in the form of osteological evidence, which promises to
revolutionalise our understanding of sacrificial victims and the way they
were treated after death.24
This volume aims to foster the process of close analysis of the evidence and
representation of animal sacrifice. We present twelve papers, which we group
into four categories: victims, procedure, representations and margins.

Part I: Victims
In this section we present three papers relating to different aspects of
victims.
Chapter One, Gunnel Ekroth’s ‘Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek
Sacrifice’, is a penetrating study of how bone deposits in sanctuaries shed
light on the variety of animals sacrificed and methods of cooking. She looks
particularly at the sanctuary of Poseidon at the Isthmos and the Kommos
sanctuary on Crete, analysing three aspects of thusia sacrifice in particular:
activity at the altar, debris from consumption and refuse from butchering.
Among her suggestions are that, whereas the practice of burning the thigh-
bones on the altar is an ancient practice that goes back to the Mycenaeans,
the burning of the tail could be an innovation, perhaps introduced from the
Near East. She also draws attention to bones from unexpected types of
animals, such as dogs and horses, suggesting that these were consumed along
with those of sacrificial animals, but not incorporated into the rituals.
Ekroth’s investigation sets the stage for more specific studies in the
following chapters, beginning with Chapter Two, Jennifer Larson’s
‘Venison for Artemis? The Problem of Deer Sacrifice’. In the first part of
the chapter, Larson surveys the evidence for deer in ancient religion and
society. Deer-bones are found in large numbers at Greek sanctuaries from
the Mycenaean period onwards (more than other wild animals), and herds
of deer may have been maintained in special parks. Nevertheless, as she
shows, explicit evidence for the sacrifice of deer is meagre – two votive
stelai, in fact; thus, it may seem attractive to attribute the osteological
evidence not to sacrifice but to the consumption of animals which were
hunted and killed in the wild or in parks. Even if that is right, she none-
theless asks whether it makes sense to draw an absolute distinction between
animals killed at the sanctuary and ones killed elsewhere and subsequently
brought to the sanctuary to be presented to the god and consumed.
The further question thus arises whether the circumstances of killing are

24
On osteology, see Ekroth and Wallensten (2013) and Ekroth in this volume (Chapter 1).
 Introduction 5
more important than the system of food production, the ‘alimentary
system’ as a whole. This question applies not just to offerings of deer,
but to all kinds of offerings. Several passages in Aristophanes confirm the
practice of having mixed meats – some sacrificial and some not – at the
same meal. In the second part of the chapter, Larson offers a new theory
about how deer came to have the role they did in the ancient alimentary
system, suggesting that what we see here is an echo of a system established
by hunter-gatherers in the Mesolithic period. The invocation of hunter-
gatherers reminds us of Walter Burkert’s theory about the origins of
sacrifice in Homo Necans, but whereas Burkert put the emphasis on
violence, guilt and reparation, for Larson the point is ecological:
a religious framework allows for the successful long-term management of
the food supply. The tendency for hunters to give Artemis first fruits,
rather than honour the goddess through thusiai, confirms Larson’s view of
Greek hunting ritual as distributive rather than destructive.25
In Chapter Three, ‘Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg?
Some Thoughts on Bird Sacrifices in Ancient Greece’, Alexandra Villing
discusses the much neglected topic of the role of birds in Greek sacrifice.
She focuses on three cases: first, sacrifice of the cockerel and chicken,
attested from about 400 bc, which seem to have occurred particularly in
the cult of Asclepius and that of heroes; secondly, the dove and the
partridge, which, though widely associated with Aphrodite, do not seem
to have been sacrificed, though they were used in purification offerings;
and, thirdly, the goose, which was widely sacrificed to Aphrodite and Isis in
the Hellenistic period. This has sometimes been thought to be the result of
Egyptian influence, but Villing sees evidence for an earlier practice of goose
sacrifice in a fifth-century votive relief from Aegina which seems to depict
a goose being led in procession for sacrifice to Hecate or Artemis. More
broadly, she argues that the use of geese and chickens for sacrifice makes
sense insofar as just like the other types of domestic animal commonly
sacrificed, they are by the fifth century bc an integral part of the alimentary
system of Greek society.

Part II: Procedure

Here we present three papers dealing with sacrificial procedure, and with
the place of sacrifice within the realms of religious ritual and polis law.

25
Accordingly Naiden (2013a:234–5) (citing the literary evidence) and Ekroth (2007) (citing the
osteological evidence) have questioned the distinction between sacred and profane offerings.
6 s a r a h h i t ch , f r e d n a i d e n a n d i an r ut h e r f o rd
Chapter Four, ‘Reflections on Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek
World’ by Stella Georgoudi is a masterful and theoretically informed study
of the relationship between animal sacrifice and purificatory rites designed
to eliminate miasma. Focusing particularly on the issue of whether there is
such a thing as a purificatory sacrifice, she admits that evidence for these
ritual categories is so complex that a precise understanding of them will
always elude us. However, she makes a persuasive case for the view that
although purification and animal sacrifice may sometimes occur in close
sequence in the same context, they are generally distinct; in fact, the animal
sacrifice may signify that the purification has come to a satisfactory con-
clusion. Confusion arises partly because many rites of purification involve
the killing of a young animal and/or the shedding of its blood (very young
animals are preferred in these contexts, as she shows, because they are
regarded as pure). These acts of cleansing differ from the acts of burning
and offering characteristic of thusia, the most common general term for
‘sacrifice’.
In Chapter Five, ‘“Polis Religion” and Sacrificial Regulation’, Fred
Naiden challenges the emphasis of earlier scholars on sacrifice as
a mechanism of the democratic polis. Taking Sourvinou-Inwood’s much
discussed conceptualisation of Greek religious practice as dictated by the
polis as his starting point, he lays out the evidence for a reciprocal arrange-
ment between the subdivisions and the overarching polis structure in late
Classical Athens. Rather than a hierarchy, he charts a nexus between
smaller and bigger groups. He expands this discussion through considera-
tion of the extant aetiologies of sacrifice, which credit individuals sacrifi-
cing on behalf of small groups with original sacrifices, rather than the polis
or the gods themselves. His conclusions reveal an Athenian notion of
sacrificial regulations that lies outside of the monopoly of the polis, and
they confirm that Hesiod’s aetiology of sacrifice was not universally
accepted by the Greeks.
In Chapter Six, which concludes this section, ‘Meaty Perks: Epichoric
and Topological Trends’, Mathieu Carbon studies the division of the
animal’s body after killing, particularly which parts were given to priests
and which consecrated to the gods. (His chapter is the most systematic
investigation of this subject since Friedrich Puttkammer’s dissertation of
1912.) Carbon looks closely at a number of aspects: the priests’ share, which,
as he shows, is usually ‘the extended rear leg’ (since the thighbones were
offered to the god, this links the priest with the divine sphere); the parts
reserved for the gods, especially the so-called ἱερὰ μοῖρα (‘sacred portion’);
and the relative values given to the parts drawn from the left and right sides
 Introduction 7
of the animal. As Carbon demonstrates, the evidence from different parts
of Greece shows striking homogeneity, but also a degree of local variation.

Part III: Representations

This section presents some overlooked examples of how Greeks repre-
sented sacrificial rituals in poetry and art. All three papers discuss artistic
representations that would have themselves formed part of the religious
landscape through either performance in festivals or dedication in sanctu-
aries: a hymn, votive reliefs and a tragic play.
In Chapter Seven, ‘Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41’,
Oliver Thomas looks at the scene in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes where
Hermes slaughters and roasts two cows and divides the meat into twelve
shares. Thomas argues that this scene does not describe a proto-sacrifice
(as other scholars have assumed), but, while evoking aspects of sacrifice,
provides an aetion for local topography and for heraldic customs.
The Hymn says that the cow-hides left by Hermes remain to this day
(125–6), and Thomas argues that in other respects as well the function of
the narrative is aetiological, explaining topographical features in the region
of the River Alpheios, just as Hermes himself is a model for the sacred
heralds who, unlike the god, carry out sacrifice. The Hymn can thus be
understood as a sort of ‘precursor’ to a cult of the Twelve Gods at Olympia.
In his conclusion, he decisively confirms Walter Burkert’s hypothesis that
Olympia was where the Hymn was first performed.
Anja Klöckner in Chapter Eight, ‘Visualising Veneration: Images of
Animal Sacrifice on Greek Votive Reliefs’, looks at the portrayal of
sacrificial animals on votive reliefs, a type of iconography which (unlike
vases) always presupposes a ritual act, that of dedication by private
individuals. The main subject of the reliefs is always the dedicants
themselves (women as well as men), often depicted in the act of praying.
However, about a quarter of them depict sacrificial animals, almost
always in the context of a procession; others show the altar instead.
As a source for ritual performance their value is thus limited; they tell
us nothing about ritual itself, and although they provide some useful
information about cultic reality, for example what animals were sacrificed
on these occasions, that information is selective and approximate.
A better approach, as Klöckner shows, is to start from the assumption
that the reliefs were meant as a form of ritual communication between
dedicants and gods. By looking at this body of evidence as a cultural
form, and not as a social document, Klöckner reorients a field of
8 s a r a h h i t ch , f r e d n a i d e n a n d i an r ut h e r f o rd
scholarship still dominated by Folkert Van Straten’s Hiera Kala, which
regarded votive reliefs as illustrative of ritual practice.
Richard Seaford’s starting point in Chapter Nine, ‘Sacrifice in Drama:
The Flow of Liquids’, is the spectacular pre-battle sacrifice described in the
proem of Aeschylus’ Seven Against Thebes where the seven warriors touch
the blood of a sacrificed bull poured into a shield. Seaford analyses this as
combining features of an ordinary pre-battle sacrifice and an oath sacrifice,
in which the participants symbolically partake in the blood of an animal.
For Seaford, the emotional impact of the communal participation in blood
in Aeschylus’ narrative should be understood as consolidatory, along the
lines of the sprinkling of khernips-water in ordinary sacrifice; conversely,
the shedding of tears immediately afterwards by the seven warriors as they
anticipate their fate seems to echo the pouring of libations of wine in the
closing stages of an ordinary sacrifice. First, blood replaces water, and then
water replaces wine. The paper closes with a provocative analysis of the
oath sacrifice in Aristophanes’ Lysistrata, clearly modelled on the Seven,
which, as Seaford shows, contains clear sexual imagery.

Part IV: Margins

Nearly all work on Greek sacrifice has dealt with Greece alone, overlooking
the intercultural connections presented in this section.
In Chapter Ten, ‘Animal Sacrifice in Hittite Anatolia’, Alice Mouton
gives a systematic overview of animal sacrifice in the different regions of the
Hittite Empire (late second millennium bc), dealing with the three main
issues of what animals are sacrificed, how they are divided and in what
contexts sacrifice takes place. In a final section she discusses the meaning of
animal sacrifice in the Hittite world, suggesting that the most important
idea is that of a regular gift to the gods, through which they become linked
or indebted to humans. It has long been suspected that Hittite religion is
related to early Greek religion, and one similarity has long been known
between Hittite and Greek sacrificial practice, namely that the Hittite
word for make an offering, spant-, is manifestly related to the Greek
spendein (‘pour a libation’). Significantly, Mouton uncovers one other
significant parallel, namely that the vital organs (the heart and liver) are
roasted and the rest of the animal stewed. There are also, of course, many
differences between the two systems, for example the fact that in Hittite
religion victims are frequently identified as substitutes.
In Chapter Eleven, ‘The Reception of Egyptian Animal Sacrifice in
Greek Writers: Ethnic Stereotyping or Transcultural Discourse?’, Ian
 Introduction 9
Rutherford looks at accounts of Egyptian animal sacrifice by Greek writers
from the fifth century bc till the Roman era. He considers first the idea
attested in Plutarch and Diodorus (apparently going back to Manetho)
that the victim represents the god Seth; secondly he looks at Herodotus’
detailed accounts of the Egyptian way of sacrificing bulls and pigs; and
thirdly at the idea found from the fourth century bc, and apparently
inconsistent with the other two, that Egyptians, far from sacrificing ani-
mals, did not eat meat at all. Rutherford shows that there are different ways
of looking at these accounts: on the one hand, they may well reflect the
cultural bias of the Greek writers, who emphasise the strange and extra-
ordinary in foreign religion; on the other hand, most of what they say
seems to correspond at least roughly to Egyptian sacrificial practice or to
Egyptian discourse about animal sacrifice.
The final chapter moves from the edges of the Greco-Roman world to
the end of Greco-Roman paganism. In ‘A Quiet Slaughter? Julian and the
Etiquette of Public Sacrifice’, Sergio Knipe looks at the religious policy of
Julian the Apostate, whose edict of ad 362 temporarily moved the Empire
away from Christianity and back to paganism. Julian placed great impor-
tance on sacrifice, as is shown by his personal attitude as well as by his
official policy, and his ancient biographers stressed this aspect of his rule.
However, he expresses a less enthusiastic attitude in a letter he wrote in ad
363. Here he seems to criticise a sacrifice he had observed at Batnae in Syria
because it was not ‘away from the beaten path and performed in peace and
quiet’. Knipe interprets Julian’s concern for the traditional standard of
euphemia (‘ritual silence’) as being influenced by the theurgy of the
Neoplatonist Iamblichus, for whom animal sacrifice enabled communica-
tion with the gods and also purification of the soul. More generally, Knipe
suggests that this emphasis on sacrifice being performed in the correct way
should be seen in the context of Julian’s official religious policy directed in
the first instance towards priests in different parts of the Empire: thus,
under Julian, animal sacrifice regains its place in Roman state religion, but
it has a new form, shaped by the theurgy that he so admired.
If we take the twelve chapters together, a number of common themes
emerge.
One is the definition of sacrifice itself. What is it? How do we distin-
guish it from other ritual actions? Are such distinctions always valid or
useful? These problems arise in the case of the deer offerings discussed by
Larson, where the killing probably happened during the hunt and not at
the altar. They also arise for the ritual discussed by Seaford, which involves
the blood of a bull, but not the meat itself. Some of the papers show how
10 s a r a h h i t ch , f r e d n a i d e n a n d i an r ut h e r f o rd
recent scholarship has tended to be imprecise in its use of the term
sacrifice, allowing it to be applied to phenomena that are connected to
it, but differ from it. One example is the purificatory rites accompanied
by sacrifice studied by Georgoudi in her chapter. Thomas’s chapter
reveals the uncertainty felt by scholars about whether Hermes’ acts of
killing the cattle, and roasting and dividing the meat, should be seen as
a sacrifice or something else.
Another issue thrown up by several of the chapters is the problem of
reconciling different types of evidence. For example, the new osteological
data sometimes point in different directions to the epigraphical and other
sources (see Ekroth, Carbon): the latter usually dictate part of an official
script, whereas faunal remains reveal the chaos of actual practice.
Similarly, accounts of sacrifice in Greek poetry, which classicists have
traditionally tended to privilege as sources,26 sometimes turn out to have
only a tangential relationship to actual practice (see Thomas, Seaford);
thus, prose and poetry tend to suggest that acts of sacrifice may go awry,
whereas epigraphical and visual sources present normative sacrifice.
The relationship between iconography and other types of sources raises
the same issues (Klöckner).
Thirdly, several of the papers address in different ways the issue of the
authority for ritual practice. Who mandates that sacrifice be performed in
a certain way? In traditional societies we might ascribe authority to an
anonymous oral tradition of ritual of uncertain age. Thus, Thomas’s
analysis of the Homeric Hymn to Hermes traces a sacrificial practice in
honour of the Twelve Gods at Olympia back to an aetion, to which the
Hymn itself gives voice. In Classical Greece the authority is these days most
often thought to be the polis, which used the medium of sacred regulations
(cf. Carbon in this volume (Chapter 6)) to enforce its will; against that,
Naiden argues that frequently an independent group organises sacrifice
within the polis and may ascribe the authority for it to an external source.
Finally, an entirely different model appears in Knipe who shows that when
Julian revives sacrificial practice in the fourth century ad, the authority is
partly his own as emperor, but also that of Neoplatonic philosophy.
A fourth theme is the importance of studying sacrifice cross-culturally:
the papers make it clear that understanding Greek sacrifice means

26
Cf. Burkert (1983:3): ‘Thanks to descriptions in Homer and tragedy, we can reconstruct the course
of an ordinary Greek sacrifice to the Olympian gods almost in its entirety.’ See also Graf (2004:340),
Parker (1996b:1344), Pollard (2010, vol. vi:196–8), Hermary et al. (2004:67), Zaidman and Schmitt
Pantel (1992:31).
 Introduction 11
understanding sacrifice beyond the borders of the Greek world, particu-
larly as regards the neighbouring Mediterranean cultures of Asia Minor,
the ancient Near East including Israel and Egypt. This may be because
Greek sacrificial practice may actually have been influenced by foreign
cultures (cf. Villing on Near East sacrifice, Mouton on Hittite sacrifice); or
it may be because understanding other cultures gives us insights into early
Greek practice (cf. Larson on the use of deer in Assyria); alternatively,
Greek accounts of animal sacrifice in other parts of the Mediterranean
reveal general concepts about supposedly universal and local aspects of
sacrifice (Rutherford). As more work is done on the religions of the cultures
of the ancient Near East, we can expect rapid progress in this area.27
Are there any other hints in the chapter about where the study of ancient
sacrifice may go in the future? One suggestion is given by Larson, who
argues in her piece that animal sacrifice in any particular culture cannot be
understood without also understanding how food production was mana-
ged; and since configurations of ritual may tend to be conservative, it may
be necessary to understand what forms the alimentary, economic and
ecological system might have taken in the remote past. A systematic
investigation of the relationship between food production and society is
surely a desideratum, and by the same token, so is investigation into the
symbiotic relation between sacrifice and ancient economic development as
a whole, as opposed to past interest in sacrifice and the Classical democratic
polis. There is perhaps also scope for applying recent advances made by
scholars articulating evolutionary approaches to religion and cognitive
science. For example, the theory of ‘costly signalling’, which explains
spectacular religious actions as conspicuous social displays, could elucidate
many of the forms of sacrifice discussed in this volume, and also many
representations of sacrifice, such as the votive stelai discussed by
Klöckner.28
The study of Greek sacrifice, which began in the Victorian era, and
reached a peak of theoretical development about forty years ago, has an
expanding but unpredictable future before it, in which the Greek will
consort with the non-Greek, and sacrifice, no longer regarded as monolith,
will become a crossroads of religious and cultural forms.

27
See Burkert (1990); Rutherford in this volume (Chapter 11); see also Naiden (2006b).
28
For costly signalling and sacrifice, see, for example, Henrich (2009); Palmer, Steadman and Cassidy
(2006).
part i
Victims
 chapter 1

Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice*

Gunnel Ekroth

The myth of how Prometheus tricks Zeus at Mekone, told by Hesiod in

the Theogony, centres around the division of an ox into two parts, on the
one hand, bones and fat, and on the other, meat, hide and stomach.1 At this
event, usually considered to have led up to the institution of animal
sacrifice, Prometheus hides the bare bones of the slaughtered ox in the
glistening, obviously appetizing fat, and it is the sight of these bones
instead of the meat which causes Zeus’ anger. He banishes men from the
tables of the gods and orders them all to in the future burn the white bones
on the altars, as a recollection of this incident. The handling of the bones
thus marks the separation of gods and men. But also in real, practised cult,
bones formed the core of the ritual. At a regular Greek, animal sacrifice,
a thysia, the communication with the gods was enabled by the burning of
bones on the altar. Not any part of the skeleton would be chosen and the
preferred sections to put in the fire were the meria or meroi, that is the
thighbones (femora), and the osphys, which is made up of the sacrum bone
(the back part of the basin) and the tail (caudal) vertebrae (Fig. 1.1).2
The knise, the smoke from the bones consumed by the altar fire, rose to
the sky and allowed for the gods to profit from the sacrifice.
Cutting out bones, freeing them from meat, wrapping them in fat and
burning them were essential parts of any Greek sacrifice. But the handling
of the bones does not only constitute evidence for the interaction between
immortals and mortals, it also provides us with information on the actions
of the people present at the sanctuaries, on their choices, habits and
behaviour, what they ate, how they prepared their food and what their
tastes were. Greek religion has been thoroughly explored for more than

* I am grateful to Sarah Hitch and Ian Rutherford for inviting me to the seminar on sacrifices at the
University of Reading in May 2007, where a first version of this paper was presented.
1
Hes. Theog. 535–7. For the interpretation, see Vernant (1989); Rudhardt (1970); Pötscher (1995).
2
Van Straten (1995:128–30); Ekroth (2009:127–9). On the issue of meroi as bare bones or entire legs, see
Berthiaume (2005).

15

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terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/9781139017886.002
16 gunnel e kroth

lumbar vertebrae sacrum

tail

pelvic girdle

thigh bone

Fig. 1.1. Bovine skeleton. After F. T. van Straten, “The god’s portion in Greek
sacrificial representations: Is the tail doing nicely?”, in Early Greek Cult Practice.
Proceedings of the Fifth International Symposium at the Swedish Institute at Athens,
26–29 June, 1986 (ActaAth-4°, 38), ed. R. Hägg, N. Marinatos and G. C. Nordquist,
Stockholm 1988, 59, fig. 13.

a century, and starting from philology, then epigraphy, scholarship has

gradually ventured into iconography and archaeology. Still, there are many
aspects of the practical execution of a sacrifice that are unclear, partly since
the sources do not offer us sufficient information, partly since they appar-
ently had no need or desire to do so. It must be kept in mind that the texts,
inscriptions, vases and reliefs constitute choices of how to represent Greek
sacrifices, and that they do not necessarily capture or reflect all aspects of
the complex ritual reality. Archaeology, and especially zooarchaeology, can
here offer us a different perspective, which allows us to clarify the informa-
tion in the written and iconographical sources or even to contradict it.
The focus of this chapter is the zooarchaeological evidence as a source for
Greek sacrificial ritual. There are many reasons why the bones should be of
interest for scholars of Greek religion. Firstly, the zooarchaeological mate-
rial is definitely a kind of evidence linked to Greek cult that is constantly
increasing. It is not likely that a new lex sacra, such as the one from
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 17
Selinous, or a vase-painting, as the “Ricci-hydria” with its explicit sacrificial
scene, will surface in the next few years, though of course it is theoretically
possible.3 Some kind of zooarchaeological remains can, on the other hand,
be expected from the next excavation of a Greek cult place, if investigated
with the proper methodology. Secondly, animal bones provide us with
direct evidence from the cultic activity at a specific site which may allow us
to distinguish local variations and particularities, but also changes over
time. Thirdly, zooarchaeology may reveal facets of Greek cult practice,
which we rarely or never will find in our written and iconographical
sources.
The zooarchaeological evidence gives rise to a number of questions and
this chapter will focus on three aspects of the bone material pertaining to
Greek cult: (1) which kind of ritual activities the animal bones may
correspond to, (2) the correlation between the zooarchaeological material
and the written sources concerning the god’s portion at a thysia and
theoxenia, and (3) the relation between sacrificial victims and the consump-
tion of meat.

Historiography and Methodology

Animal bones have always been found at archaeological investigations of
sanctuaries and cult places, but they have unfortunately often not been
kept and studied, since they were not considered to contribute any sig-
nificant information, though as a rare early exception it may be noted that
Paul Stengel, the father of the study of Greek sacrificial ritual, actually
commented on the bone material found at an Aphrodite sanctuary at
Bassai in a paper written already in 1887.4 Still, until recently, few studies
have attempted to discuss Greek sacrificial ritual and zooarchaeological
evidence in a more comprehensive manner, but this situation is rapidly
changing.5
As with any kind of evidence, bones have to be assembled in the correct
manner to be useful for scholars, and in order to constitute a source for cult

3
Selinous lex sacra: Jameson, Jordan and Kotansky (1993); “Ricci–hydria,” see van Straten (1995:V154,
fig. 122).
4
Stengel (1910:200), bones said to come from small animals such as hares.
5
For an overview on the importance of the zooarchaeological material for the understanding of Greek
ritual practices, see the contributions in Ekroth and Wallensten (2013); see also Hägg (1998a);
Kotjabopoulou et al. (2003); for surveys of zooarchaeological evidence from Greek sanctuaries, see
Leguilloux (2004); Reese (2005); MacKinnon (2007a:490–1); MacKinnon (2007b:17–19). For dis-
cussion of similar issues within the Roman evidence, see Lepetz and Van Andringa (2008a); Lepetz
and Van Andringa (2008b).
18 gunnel e kroth
practice they have to be collected with the proper methods. At an excava-
tion bones may be picked up by hand, but this method results in far from
all parts of the animals being recovered. More importantly, certain species
will definitely not be recovered, as their bones are too small to be spotted
with the naked eye. It is therefore essential to sieve systematically, as well as
to use water flotation, of at least a representative sample of the soil.
Recent archaeological work demonstrates the benefits of such a proper
methodology, for example the way the zooarchaeological evidence informs
our understanding of the role of fish within both cultic and alimentary
contexts. It has often been claimed that the Greeks had a complex relation
to fish, which was seen either as the ultimate luxury food, expensive and
exclusive, or as food for the poor who could not afford meat.6 The role of
fish within religion is far from established, and fish have usually been
separated from the sphere of animal sacrifice, as they are rarely documented
in our written and iconographical sources, and cannot be brought to the
altar alive, nor do they bleed once killed, apart from tuna.7 The lack of
fishbones in sanctuaries has been taken as a confirmation of the marginal
position of fish within cult.8
An astonishing zooarchaeological deposit has recently been brought to
light at the excavations at the sanctuary of Poseidon at Kalaureia on Poros,
conducted by the Swedish Institute at Athens, where intensive sieving and
water flotation have been consistently used. At the site was discovered
a large deposit of pottery, bones and charcoal, which represents material
dumped after a huge feast involving c. 200 people, which took place
around 165 bc.9 Among the bones recovered were those of cattle, sheep,
goat and pigs, but also the remains of at least eighteen different species of
fish. These fish originated from various kinds of marine habitat and were
apparently caught by different kinds of fishing technique, some by large
communal efforts using nets, others by individual fishermen with hook and
line or a harpoon. Some of the fish may perhaps even have been bred in the
shallow lagoons near Poros, while certain species were migratory and
seasonal, and could only be caught at selected times during the year. All
fish species that existed locally around the island are present in the
6
See the discussion by Davidson (1997:3–35); Mylona (2008): passim, esp. 5–23.
7
For occasional mention of the burning of small fish as part of sacrifice, see LSCG 177, lines 62–3,
foundation of Diomedon, Kos, c. 300 bc; LSCG 135, line 83, testament of Epikteta, Thera, 210–195 bc;
sacrifice of tarichos, smoked or salted fish, to the hero Kylabras at Phaselis, see Heropythos FGrHist 448
F 1, Ath. 7.297e–298a. For representations of fish, see Gebauer (2002:322–3, Zv 31– Zv 36, fig. 192–7;
Vikela (1994:26) and pl. 15:1, no. A 17. On the bleeding tuna, see Durand (1989b:127–8).
8
For a review of marine fauna in Greek sanctuaries, see Theodoropoulou (2013).
9
Mylona (2008:92–6); Wells et al. (2005:164–79).
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 19
assemblage by all parts of the skeletons, that is, the fish must have been
brought whole to the sanctuary to be consumed. The migratory fish, on the
other hand, are only represented by vertebrae, and must presumably have
been taken to the site in chunks or slices. These non-local fish may even
have been preserved for some time before being consumed, for example by
salting. The conclusion is that the fish from the dinner deposit at the
Kalaureia sanctuary cannot represent a single catch at one locality, but is
rather the labour of different fishermen at different spots around the island
and the mainland coast. Some of the fish were small, around 15 cm, while
others, such as the tuna, were over 1 m long. This great meal, with its
extraordinary selection of fish, can certainly be seen as a worthy tribute to
the god of the sea and his affluence.
The material from Kalaureia demonstrates how careful excavation, dry
sieving and water flotation can reveal new facets of the use and role of fish
in Greek sanctuaries, be it for rituals, burnt on the altars for the gods or
deposited, or eaten by the worshippers.10 It must be kept in mind that if
a site has not been excavated with such attention, the zooarchaeological
assemblage cannot be used to argue for the lack of fish, nor of any other
species, as part of the local ritual or diet.11

What Kind of (Ritual) Activity Do the Animal Bones Represent?

Judging by our written and iconographical sources, the most common
kind of animal sacrifice practiced by the Greeks was thysia. At this ritual,
the animal victim was divided between gods and men; the deities received
the thighbones and the tail section burnt on the altar, while the meat was
consumed by the worshippers. In connection with thysia, the gods could be
given offerings of raw meat on the sacred table, trapezomata, or various
kinds of cooked food at theoxenia rituals.12 Apart from these rituals, the

10
The fishbones and seashells from the Greek sanctuary at Kommos also indicate the role of marine
fauna in religious contexts, both as offerings and food, see Kommos I and Reese (2000a and 2000b);
Lefèvre-Novaro (2010); cf. Mylona (2008:97–9), Ekroth (2011).
11
Apart from the need for sophisticated techniques of collecting the bones, publication by experts is
also a prerequisite. The first study of the zooarchaeological material from the so-called altar of
Aphrodite Ourania at Athens demonstrated a high percentage of young, female goats and bird
bones, especially doves (Forster 1984), supporting the identification of the altar as that of this
goddess. A later re-study by David Reese (1989) recognized only four unburnt bird bones within
the sample, as well as a majority of burnt sheep and goat femora and caudal vertebrae, a typical altar
deposit not suggesting any particular divinity. For a recent identification of the altar as that of
Hermes Agoraios, see Osanna (1988–9).
12
On trapezomata and theoxenia, see Gill (1974); Gill (1991); Jameson (1994a); Veyne (2000); Ekroth
(2002:276–86).
20 gunnel e kroth
Greeks performed holocausts at which the entire animal was burnt in the
fire, as well as sacrifices in war on the battlefield, so-called sphagia, at
purifications and at oath-takings.13 At these latter sacrifices, there was no
meat for the participants to consume. How does the zooarchaeological
material relate to this ritual landscape?
Animal bones from sanctuaries are often simply regarded as remains of
“sacrifices,” the term being used as a kind of comprehensive explanation,
covering both the dedication of a part of the animal victim to the god and
the consumption of the rest by the worshippers. In order to understand
which actions the bones may correspond to, finer distinctions within the
zooarchaeological evidence have to be made, using criteria such as the
types of bones, the degree of fragmentation, the presence of cut or chop-
ping marks, and most importantly, whether the bones show any traces of
burning. The interpretive categories applied must also be taken into
consideration. To be able to do so, the bone assemblages must have been
both carefully excavated and collected, and most of all analyzed and
published in great detail.
Most zooarchaeological assemblages in Greek sanctuaries can be con-
nected to thysia sacrifice, and three different kinds of actions can be
recognized. It is possible to distinguish between bone material deriving
from the activity at the altar – the burning of the gods’ portion, consumption
debris – the bones being left after the worshippers had eaten the meat, and
butchering refuse – parts which were discarded at the initial division of the
animal after it had been killed.
Bones from the altar activity have been burnt in the fire on the altar and
are carbonized and even calcined, a process which often results in substantial
fragmentation into small pieces. High temperatures are needed here; by
400–600° the bones will be charred, while temperatures over 600–700°
cause calcination.14 Judging by the written and iconographical sources,
these deposits can be expected to consist mainly of thighbones and parts of
the osphys. The find context also has to be taken into consideration, but
remains of the bones burnt on the altar do not necessarily have to be
recovered near an altar to be recognized as the god’s part of the sacrifice.15

13
On holocausts, see Ekroth (2002:217–42). For sphagia, see Jameson (1991); Jameson (1994b).
Purifications, see Parker (1983:225–32 and 371–4); Dyer (1969); Clinton (2005); Burkert (1985:
75–84); Georgoudi, this volume (Chapter 4). Oath–takings, see Faraone (1993); Burkert (1985:
250–4).
14
Prummel (2003:212–13); Shipman, Forster and Schoeninger (1984); Spennemann and Colley (1989).
15
At Ephesos, sacrificial debris has been distinguished from consumption refuse and garbage in both
Protogeometric levels and a well filled in the Classical period by the selection of body parts and the
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 21
The consumption debris, on the other hand, typically contains a very low
quantity of burnt bones, as cooking does not exceed 280° and the roasting
of the meat only chars the outer ends of the bones as the meat protects the
rest. Most meat eaten in sanctuaries seems to have been boiled, a cooking
method which leaves no traces of fire. The zooarchaeological remains
deriving from meals are fragmented as well, since the bones were usually
butchered into portions before cooking, and later broken to gain access to
the marrow, though to a lesser extent than the altar remains. Cut or
chopping marks are frequently present.16 Furthermore, the consumption
debris should consist of the meat-bearing parts of the animal, apart from
the sections reserved for the altar. The butchering refuse, finally, is made up
of the lower legs and feet, and the upper part of the skull, sections of the
animal with little or no meat on them, which were often removed when the
animal was skinned.17
There is less zooarchaeological evidence that can be linked to other kinds
of ritual than thysia. Holocausts may be recognized in heavily burnt bone
deposits containing all parts of the skeleton, but such instances are very
rare. One of the few undisputed cases belongs to the Roman phase of the
cult of Palaimon at Isthmia, dating to c. ad 50–150.18 At this hero-cult,
cattle were burnt in a series of pits, the walls of which were severely
damaged by the heat. Presumably the animals were placed on logs over
the pits and the draft of the air created sufficient heat to consume the meat.
The bones do not reveal if the animals were burnt as whole carcasses or if
they first had been skinned, gutted and cut up into pieces, though both
flaying and division seems very likely, considering the amount of time
needed to burn an entire cow with blood and intestines still contained
within the carcass.19 Apart from this spectacular holocaust, there are some
deposits of piglets, which have been burnt whole, most coming from
Demeter sanctuaries and probably corresponding to a specific ritual of this
cult.20 These bones are probably to be distinguished from the deposition of

calcined state of the bones, see Ephesos V, 86–9; Forstenpointner, Galik and Weissengruber (2006);
Scherrer et al. (2006:145–6).
16
For the identification of butchering and marrow extraction, see Rixson (1989:49–62); Tenos, 438–43;
Thasos, 807–13; Thera, 158–61; Samos, 6.
17
For butchering refuse, or rather the lack of these parts in the deposits from sanctuaries, see Thasos,
807; Tegea, 201; Samos, 4, Table 2; Nemea, 139; Leguilloux (2000:346), on the fourth-century bc altar
of Zeus/Jovis at Poseidonia where less than 1 percent of the around fifty slaughtered cattle consisted
of feet and lower legs.
18
Isthmia, 126, 132–3, 137–9 and 152. For the cult in its Roman phase, see also Gebhard (1993); Ekroth
(2002:80–1).
19
On the evidence for skinning carcasses before holocausts, see Scullion (2009:159–69).
20
Mytilene I, 209; Mytilene II, 188–9; Bookidis and Stroud (1997:78), Area D; cf. Ephesos V, 85–6.
22 gunnel e kroth
piglets in connection with the Thesmophoria, however, as the piglets on
these latter occasions were to be thrown whole into pits, and their rotten
remains later taken up and spread on the fields.21
A unique zooarchaeological assemblage was recently excavated on
Thasos, near the Passage des théores at the Agora.22 A young bull, a ram
and a boar had been cut into half and deposited in two heaps with three
half-sections of each animal in each heap, the bodies being carefully
arranged with the severed sections facing the open area between the piles.
This find probably represents a trittoia, the sacrifice of three victims, which
was performed in connection with an oath or purification.23 Another
particular category of bone deposits are accumulations of horns, mainly
goat but also sheep, that have been discovered at the Artemision at
Ephesos, at Dreros on Crete, in the temple of Apollo at Halieis and at
Messene.24 As the quantities at some sites are quite substantial, they may be
interpreted as the remains of the altars of horns, bomoi keratinoi, known
from the literary sources. Plutarch specifically points out that the horns
making up the Keraton on Delos stuck together by themselves, without any
kind of glue or additional binder, and according to Kallimachos, Apollo
had pleated (epleke) the altar of horns, statements that have caused some
bewilderment among modern scholars.25 Based on the finding of pairs of
goat horns at Ephesos, archaeological experiments have demonstrated that
the construction of a horn altar by simply joining together the horn pairs
from goats is perfectly feasible.26
Finally, the zooarchaeological material gives evidence for rituals that do
not correspond to any actions outlined in texts, inscriptions or images.
In Athens, near the Agora, a series of shallow pits filled with pottery, traces
of burning and some animal bones from sheep, goat or chicken have been

21
On the handling of piglets at the Thesmophoria, see Clinton (1988). For unburnt piglet bones in
Demeter sanctuaries, see Ephesos II, esp. 68.
22
See Blondé et al. (2001); Blondé et al. (2005). A DVD produced by the CNRS Images entitled Le
trittoia ou le rendez–vous de Thasos (2007) documents in detail the excavation and the interpretation
of the find.
23
On the division or cutting apart of oath or purification victims, see Parker (1983:22–3); Faraone
(1993:65–72). See also the material from well G5:3 in the Athenian Agora, which yielded the remains
of 150 dogs and 450 infants, suggested to have been linked to purification rites, see Snyder (1999:284);
Little (1999:284).
24
Dreros: Marinatos (1936:241–4); Deonna (1940); Ephesos I:108, 112–13 and 132–8; Ephesos IV:228;
Halieis: Jameson (1988a:93); Messene I:301.
25
Plut. De soll. an. 983e; Call. Hymn 2, 60–4; cf. Deonna (1940:112–14); Bruneau (1970:19–29);
Bruneau and Fraisse (2002). For the display of horns and bukrania as commemoration of sacrifice,
see Theophr. Char. 21.7; Gebauer (2002:537–40); van Straten (1995:R57, fig. 78), stele from the
fourth–third centuries bc with bukranion and boar’s skull and mandible.
26
Forstenpointner (2000:51–65, esp. fig. 15).
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 23
found in houses and commercial buildings.27 These deposits, usually
labelled “Pyre deposits,” are of Classical and early Hellenistic date and
presumably represent some kind of ritual meals, as the pottery shapes
include drinking vessels and cooking pots, but the purpose of the action
and the recipient remain unclear. As a last example should be mentioned
the enormous funerary sacrifice excavated at the foot of the staircase at the
entrance to the tomb chamber of the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos, dated
to around 350 bc.28 The deposit contained at least five cattle, twenty-five
sheep and goats, eight lambs and kids, three cocks, ten hens, one chick and
eight pigeons, as well as twenty-six hen’s eggs. The animals had been
slaughtered, skinned and gutted, and then laid down either complete or
in segments, with the meat still attached to the bones. No heads or lower
sections of the legs were recovered, and these parts must have been
discarded before being deposited, as they have very little meat on them.
There were no traces of fire or other signs of cooking, but the bones seem to
suggest a huge meal offering to the departed ruler of a kind that has no
parallels in our archaeological or textual record so far.

The God’s Portion at a Thysia

At a thysia sacrifice, the central act was the burning of thighbones and tails
in order to create the savoury smoke, knise, the gods were so fond of.
However, the written and iconographical sources do not present us with
a uniform picture of what the god’s portion consisted of. Hesiod, in his
account of Prometheus’ division of the ox at Mekone simply states that the
white bones, the ostea leuka, were burnt for the gods on the altars.29 Homer
speaks only of the thighbones wrapped in fat and so do Sophocles,
Herodotus, Pausanias and Lucian.30 The earliest written reference to the
osphys as a part of the divinity’s share of the victim is found in the tragedy
Prometheus Bound (ll. 496–9). Both meroi and osphys are mentioned in
Aristophanes, while Menander refers only to the osphys.31
The Attic vase-paintings frequently depict the osphys in the altar fire,
showing the tail rising in a characteristic curve (Fig. 1.2).32 These images
27
Camp (1999:278–80); Camp (2003:247–9); Jordan and Rotroff (1999); Rotroff (2013).
28
Jeppesen, Højlund and Aaris–Sørensen (1981); Højlund (1983).
29
Theog. 532–7. In OD 336–7, Hesiod mentions the burning of meria; cf. Thgn. Eleg. 1.1145–6.
30
Hom. Il. 1.460–3, 2.422–5; Od. 3.456–9; Soph. Ant. 1005–11; Hdt. 4.35; Paus. 1.24.2, 5.13.9 and 8.38.8;
Luc. Prom. 19; Timon 9; De sacrif. 3.
31
Ar. Pax 1039–40 and 1053–5; Men. Dys. 447–53.
32
The earliest representations date to the last quarter of the fifth century bc, see van Straten (1988:
57–67); van Straten (1995:118–21); Gebauer (2002:352–443). For votive reliefs occasionally
24 gunnel e kroth

Fig. 1.2. The burning of the osphys in the fire on the altar. Red-figure kylix, Oxford,
Ashmolean Museum 1911.617. Photo Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford.

match the behaviour of the tail referred to in Aristophanes’ comedy

The Peace, where Trygaios urges his slave not to disturb the osphys in the
fire and then comments “The tail is doing nicely.” Practical experiments
have demonstrated that real cattle, sheep and pigs’ tails rise and curve
precisely in this manner when placed in a fire, and the representations on
vases apparently closely correspond to what happened in real life when an
osphys was burnt (Fig. 1.3).33 More iconographically elusive is the burning
of the thighbones, so frequently referred to in the literary sources. Meroi
may possibly be seen on a red-figure Athenian bell-krater in the Louvre
(Fig. 1.4), depicting a sacrificial scene, where a bearded man is about to
place a bundle in the fire, ingeniously suggested by the Austrian zooarch-
aeologist Gerhard Forstenpointner to be the fat-wrapped thighbones about
to be burnt (Fig. 1.5).34
Considering the discrepancy between texts and images, the zooarchaeo-
logical evidence is of prime interest for clarifying the contents of the god’s
portion. At present, there are at least ten bone assemblages, which can be

representing this part of the victim, see Rhamnous, inv. no. 102, Ekroth (2009:133–4, fig. 6), and
a terracotta plaque from Locri, Prückner (1968:17–18, fig. 1).
33
Jameson (1986:60–1 and fig. 3); Ekroth (2009:143, fig. 7); Morton (2015).
34
Paris, Louvre G 496; van Straten (1995:V200, fig. 152); Gebauer (2002:406–7, B 43, fig. 268). For the
experiments of wrapping the femora in the omentum, the fat of the animal’s stomach, see Ephesos
III, 210–11; see also Morton (2015).
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 25

Fig. 1.3. Sheep tail (to the left) and pig tail (to the right) burning on a coal fire. Photo
Gunnel Ekroth.

Fig. 1.4. Attic red-figure bell-krater, Paris, Louvre G 496. Amorphous bundle being
placed in the altar fire. Photo © Musée du Louvre, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais/Les
frères Chuzeville.
26 gunnel e kroth

Fig. 1.5 a–b. Sheep’s thighbones and omentum (5a) and experimentally formed
bundle using these specimens (5b). Photo G. E. Weissengruber.

interpreted as the remains burnt on the altar, dating from the Late
Geometric to the late Hellenistic periods: the altar of Aphrodite Ourania
at Athens, the Aire sacrificielle at Eretria, the Artemision at Ephesos, the
Long Altar at Isthmia, the altars in the Greek sanctuary at Kommos on
Crete, the sanctuary of Apollon Hylates at Kourion on Cyprus, the
sanctuary of Aphrodite in Miletos, the sanctuary of Demeter on
Mytilene, the altar of Zeus and the Heroon at Nemea, the sanctuary of
Plakari at Karystus and the temple at Agios Elias near Tegea.35 At most of
these locations the zooarchaeological material has been recovered in or at
an altar, and the deposits consist predominantly of a selection of heavily
burnt bones, often calcined and fragmented into small pieces.
In general, there seem to be more thighbones and kneecaps than sacrum
bones and tail vertebrae in the altar debris. This may partly depend on the
thighbones and kneecaps resisting the heat better and therefore having
a greater chance of being identified in the samples, but at some sanctuaries
the quantity of thighbones indisputably surpasses that of the sacra and
vertebrae. At the Aire sacrificielle at Eretria, 87 percent of the burnt altar
debris consisted of thighbones and an additional 6 percent were
kneecaps.36 Apart from a few humerus fragments, there are only thigh-
bones in the burnt material at the Hofaltar area in the Artemision at
Ephesos and a clear dominance of femora among the burnt bones from
Altars U and C at the Greek sanctuary at Kommos, the Archaic precinct
and altar in the sanctuary of Apollon Hylates at Kourion and the altar of
Poseidon at Isthmia.37 The thighbones recovered in these deposits come

35
See the Appendix. 36 Eretria, 175 and 177, Table 2.
37
Ephesos I, 115, 145 and 149; Kommos I, Table 6.2, 441, 446–9 and 474; cf. Kommos II, 678 and 683–4,
pl. 6.3 and 6.4; Kourion, 181–2; Isthmia, 144 and 149–52, Table 1. The burnt bones from Thermon
also mainly consist of long bones, see Gardeisen (2008:308).
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 27
mainly from sheep and goats, though at Isthmia a greater quantity of cattle
than of ovicaprines was sacrificed at the altar.
Remains of tail vertebrae and sacra are as a rule less frequent, but at the
sanctuary of Demeter at Mytilene and the altar of Aphrodite Ourania at
Athens, tails of sheep and goat were common.38 There is also a distinction
as to species. At Ephesos, in one of the early Archaic burnt deposits, the tail
bones are mainly from cattle while the thighbones and kneecaps derive
from sheep and goats, and a similar situation is found at Altar U in the
Greek sanctuary at Kommos, which dates to c. 700–600 bc.39 A few
remains of sacrum bones and tail vertebrae at the Aire sacrificielle at
Eretria show that the occasional sheep’s tail may have ended up on this
altar as well, though here this was never the regular practice.40
The total number of altar assemblages is small, but the scarcity of pig
bones should be noted. At Isthmia, Kourion, Kommos, Miletos, Eretria
and the Hofaltar at Ephesos, there seem to be no pig bones at all among the
burnt sacrificial remains.41 In the cases where pig bones are present, only
a small quantity has been recorded, rarely consisting of thighbones and
hardly ever of pigs’ tail vertebrae.42 Larger amounts of burnt pig bones,
primarily juvenile piglets, only seem to have been recovered in sanctuaries
of Demeter, deposits which may be interpreted as a ritual different from
the burning of the god’s portion at a thysia, as all parts of the animals’
bodies seem to have been included.43 The zooarchaeological evidence thus
suggests that the gods’ portion usually consisted of the thighbones, pre-
ferably of sheep and goats, and less often, tails of cattle or sheep and goats,
though there are local variations which may relate to the divinity wor-
shipped but also to the supply of victims.44

38
Athens, 65 and 68 (regarding Mytilene).
39
Ephesos III, 206–10 and fig. 21.2, cattle vertebrae particularly common in deposit HN; Kommos I,
441, Table 6.2.
40
Eretria:177, Table 2.
41
Isthmia:149–52, Table 1; Kourion:181–2; Kommos I:Table 6.2, 441 (Altar U), 446–7 (Altar H), 448–9
(Altar C); Kommos II:683–4; Miletos:122, fig. 3 and 124–5, fig. 4 (no pigs’ bones listed among the
calcined remains); Eretria:177, Table 2; Ephesos I:110 and 115; cf. Ephesos II:68.
42
Athens, 68; Ephesos III:208–9, fig. 21.2; Ephesos II:67–8; Nemea:137 and 141; possibly also the altar
deposit at Asea, see Asea:201. Pig bones were recovered from the altar of Asklepios at Messene
(Messene I:297, Tables 3 and 4), but the precise find context nor the state of the evidence (burnt or
unburnt) are specified. The burnt pig bones from the Sarapeion C on Delos is of less relevance for
Greek cult practices, see Leguilloux (2003:507–8); Brun and Leguilloux (2013).
43
Mytilene, 209; Bookidis and Stroud (1997:78), Area D; cf. Ephesos V:85–6. At these sanctuaries,
unburnt piglet and pig bones have also been recovered.
44
The consumption debris from some sanctuaries sometimes shows a noticeable correspondence to
the altar remains, as there is a very low frequency of thighbones, tail vertebrae and sacra, see, for
example, Samos:4–7 and 41–2, as well as Tables 2 and 3, though note that two calcined femora were
28 gunnel e kroth
A brief look at the chronology of these deposits is also of interest. The earliest
assemblages seem to consist mainly of thighbones, and a group of burnt sheep
or goat femora from the Protogeometric levels at the Artemision at Ephesos
probably represents one of the earliest documented instances of thysia sacrifice;
though the publication of the material from the ash altar of Zeus on Mt
Lykaion will probably push the date even further back.45 The Late Geometric
and early Archaic deposits, such as the altar at the Aire sacrificielle at Eretria and
sanctuary of Apollon Hylates at Kourion on Cyprus, rarely contain any remains
of sacrum bones and parts of the tail region, and though the early Archaic Altar
U at Kommos yielded cattle tail vertebrae, the burnt material mainly consisted
of ovicaprine femora.46 A predominance of vertebrae and, in particular, tail
vertebrae seems to be found only at the altar of Aphrodite Ourania at Athens
and in the sanctuary of Demeter at Mytilene, deposits which date to the early
fifth century and fourth to first centuries bc, respectively.47 At the Long Altar at
Isthmia, the burnt Archaic deposits have yielded mainly thighbones and there
are no remains of tails before the early fifth century bc.48
Keeping in mind the limited size of the sample, it can still be taken to
suggest that the burning of thighbones may have been the older and original
practice at a thysia sacrifice.49 The Homeric poems, which only mention the
meria as placed in the fire for the gods, confirm this impression, as do the
Mycenaean deposits from the palace at Pylos, which consisted of thighbones,
upper front legs and mandibles, which had been stripped of meat and burnt.50
The practice of burning the osphys as the god’s portion may at many sites have
been a later addition to the thysia ritual, perhaps imported to Greece from the

also found; Eretria:175–85; Tegea:200, figs. 5–6; Thasos:804–7; Tenos:444–6 and 450–4, figs. 14, 15
and 20; Olympia (2006:154–6); for a more detailed discussion of the relation between altar debris –
leftovers from meals in sanctuaries – see Ekroth (2009:139–42).
45
Ephesos V:88–90. The number of bones in this assemblage is very small. The ash altar on Mt Lykaion
contained a huge quantity of burnt femora, patellas and caudal vertebrae and activity seems to have
started already in the Late Bronze Age, intensifying in the Protogeometric period, see Starkovich et
al. (2013); Starkovich in Romano and Voyatzis (2014:644–8). The burnt material from the Middle,
Late and Sub–Geometric levels at Thermon also consisted mainly of long bones or ribs of
ovicaprines, see Gardeisen (2008:308).
46
Eretria:177, Table 2; Kourion:181–2; Kommos I:441, Table 6.2.
47
Athens:65–7 and 68 (for the zooarchaeological evidence from Mytilene).
48
Isthmia:149–52, Table 1. The early deposits only consist of a small number of bones, but remains of
the tail section mainly derive from the contexts dating to the latter half of the fifth and the fourth
centuries.
49
At Kalapodi, all species from LH IIIC and onwards show a lack of sacra and caudal vertebrae, which
may suggest an early occurrence of the burning of the osphys, see Felsch (2001:196–7); Kalapodi:162.
On the other hand, the missing parts may also have been removed to serve as priestly gera and not
only as the god’s portion.
50
Isaakidou et al. (2002:86–92); Halstead and Isaakidou (2004:136–54; see also Isaakidou and Halstead
(2013).
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 29
Near East, where the burning of the tail was part of Israelite sacrificial rituals.51
To place the osphys in the fire and observe its movements may have been one
of several means of divination which were taken over by the Greeks from the
east during the early Archaic period, the tail curving on the altar apparently
being recognized as a sign of the gods having received the sacrifice and being
pleased.52 It may here also be noted that one of the earliest instances of the
burning of the tail comes from the seventh-century bc Altar U at Kommos,
a sanctuary that demonstrates definite Near Eastern cultic influences and may
even be a Phoenician installation.53

Theoxenia and Zooarchaeology

On the whole, the altar debris concurs with the written and iconographical
sources as to the importance of thighbones and tails making up what was to be
burnt at a thysia, but the bones allow us to distinguish chronological and
geographical variations within the ritual, as to the types of animals chosen
and which parts to burn. However, some altar deposits demonstrate a greater
deviation from the notion based on the texts and images of which bones should
be found in such an assemblage and may therefore indicate a different ritual.
At the Long Altar in the sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia, the Archaic
and Classical deposits recovered consisted of bones from cattle, sheep and
goats, of which more than 98 percent were burnt.54 Hindquarters, and
especially thighbones, were particularly common – characteristics of
a typical altar debris. The interesting fact is that among the burnt bones
from this altar, elements of the rest of the skeleton are represented as well,
such as the rib cage, the head and the lower back legs, with one exception,
the forelegs, which are almost entirely absent.55 Also the evidence from the
Greek sanctuary at Kommos, which has been published in great detail,
51
See Ekroth (2009:146–9). For the burning of the tail at Israelite sacrifices, see Exodus 29:22; Leviticus
3:9, 7:3, 8:25 and 9.18–20; Milgrom (1991:210–13). The similarities between the sacrificial procedures
at thysia and Israelite selamim, respectively, have been widely discussed, see, for example, Gill (1966);
Burkert (1985:51); Bergquist (1993); West (1997:38–42); Milgrom (2000:2464).
52
The importance of the osphys as a means for divination is evident from the Prom. vinct. 496–9, as well
as the scholia to Aristophanes’ Peace 1053 (ad Pax 1053). For the incorporation of Near Eastern ritual
procedures, such as hepatoscopy, see West (1997:46–51); Burkert (1992:46–53).
53
Kommos II:711–13; Shaw (1989). 54 Isthmia:144 and 149–52, Table 1.
55
The forelegs missing from the altar deposit must have been removed at some stage, perhaps to be
given to priests or other dignitaries as choice portions. The bones from the altar area have to be
matched against the bones found in the Large Circular Pit, to the south-west of the temple, where
the leftovers from the ritual meals were dumped, see Isthmia:131–2, 139–40 and 153, Table 2. Among
these bones, 92.5 percent of which are unburnt, forelegs are over-represented, while there are very
few femora. It seems likely that some animals were sacrificed at the altar and then later eaten in the
area to the south-west.
30 gunnel e kroth
demonstrates variations from the expected norm. Of particular interest are
the more than 37 kg of burnt bones from Altar U, dated to c. 700–600 bc
and connected to the second phase of Temple B.56 The material represents
at least nine sheep or goats and three cattle, that had had parts of them
burnt on this altar.57 Of the ovicaprines, thighbones dominate, while for
the cattle there is a high frequency of tail vertebrae. From the sheep and
goats there are also remains of forelegs and the lower parts of the back leg,
as well as ribs and vertebrae of the back. The cattle bones include fragments
of the lower back and front legs, the spine, the shoulder-blade and the
head. The presence of bones from the feet of these animals is interesting, as
these sections almost devoid of meat are usually thought to have been
discarded at the flaying and initial butchering of the animal.58
The prominence of heavily burnt thighbones and tail vertebrae in the
altar assemblages from Isthmia and Kommos clearly identifies them as the
remains of thysiai, but the presence also of other parts of the victims
suggests that we here encounter local variations in the execution of this
ritual. The god’s share placed in the altar fire was modified by the burning
of a greater variety of bones from the victims. If we compare the deposits
from Isthmia and Kommos with the burnt remains from the Aire sacrifi-
cielle at Eretria, for example, there is a stark contrast, as the burnt bones of
that assemblage consisted to 93 percent of thighbones, kneecaps, and the
occasional tail vertebra.59
The burning of a wider selection of bones on the altars at Isthmia and
Kommos suggests that the deities at these sacrifices were given a larger share
of the victims and not simply the thighbones and the tails. The question is,
what ritual implications, if any, we may deduce from this distribution
pattern. I would suggest that the following scenario could be imagined at
these two sanctuaries. The victims were first killed at the altar in the usual
manner and meria and osphys were cut out and burnt. The bodies were then
divided, and some parts may have been displayed, either raw or cooked,
next to the altar or even on the altar in a trapezomata ceremony. At some
stage, either at the division or later, a number of bones would have been
freed of meat and burnt in the altar fire, thus resulting in an altar deposit
consisting of a wider selection of bones than simply femora, sacra and
caudal vertebrae. The rest of the meat would have been cooked and eaten at
the altar, or taken away to be prepared and consumed elsewhere; at
56
Kommos I:422, Table 6.1, 441, Table 6.2, and pl. 6.3–6.4. 57 Kommos I:453, Table 6.4.
58
See, e.g., the zooarchaeological material from the altar of Zeus/Jovis at Poseidonia, Leguilloux
(2000:346); Thasos:807; Tegea:201; Samos:4, Table 2.
59
Eretria:175 and 177, Table 2.
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 31
Isthmia, near the Large Circular Pit, into which the dinner debris was
dumped, and at Kommos, perhaps inside Temple B, which may have
served as a hestiatorion.60
Such a scenario may seem hypothetical, but a comparison with the
handling of the bones from Isthmia and Kommos with a ritual described
in the great lex sacra from Selinous, dated to c. 450 bc, is instructive. This
inscription is unique for many reasons, not least since it contains one of the
few explicit mentions of the burning of animal bones in a Greek sacred
law.61 Among the rituals outlined in this text is the following sacrifice to
Zeus Meilichios (A 17–20):
17 το͂ ι ἐν Εὐθυδάμο: Μιλιχίοι: κριὸν θ̣[υ]-
18 όντο. ἔστο δὲ καὶ θῦμα πεδὰ ϝέτος θύεν. τὰ δὲ hιαρὰ τὰ δαμόσια ἐξh〈α〉
ιρέτο καὶ τρά[πεζα]-
19 ν: προθέμεν καὶ ϙολέαν καὶ τἀπὸ τᾶς τραπέζας: ἀπάργματα καὶ τὀστέα
κα[τα]-
20 κᾶαι: τὰ κρᾶ μέχφερέτο. καλέτο [h]όντινα λεῖ.
To [Zeus] Meilichios in the plot of Euthydamos let them sacrifice a ram.
And let it also be possible to sacrifice after a year. Let him take out the
public hiara and put out a table before [them], and burn a thigh and
the offerings from the table and the bones. Let no meat be carried out
[of the precinct]. Let him invite whomever he wishes.62
The ritual prescribed here has convincingly been shown by the editors of
the inscription to be a thysia sacrifice at which a theoxenia ritual is
performed.63 At theoxenia, the god was invited as an honoured guest
and offered a table laden with food, cooked meat in particular, and
a couch to recline on. The ritual is documented in literary, epigraphical
and iconographical sources and was used for all kinds of divinities.64
At Selinous, the ram is killed and presumably thighbones and/or osphys

60
Isthmia:131–2, 139–40 and 153, Table 2. The distinctions between the species and body parts
between the exterior Altar U and the interior hearths of Temple B suggest that the building
could have been used for meals following the sacrifices, see Kommos II:677, 683–4 and
687–8.
61
Jameson, Jordan and Kotansky (1993:A 18–20). The burning of meria may be mentioned in
a fragmentary cult regulation of Herakles from Miletos, c. 500 bc, LSA 42, B, line 2; cf. LS 89,
line 6, a regulation of the mysteries at Phanagoria at the Black Sea, second century ad, a holokaustesis
perhaps of thighbones. Also the intriguing regulation of the deme Phrearrhioi (c. 300–250 bc) refers
to meria, perhaps to be placed on the altars and burnt, see NGSL 3, 16–17 with commentary; Ekroth
(2013a).
62
Translation by Jameson, Jordan and Kotansky (1993:15).
63
Jameson, Jordan and Kotansky (1993:62–70); Jameson (1994a:43–5).
64
Jameson 1994a; Jameson, Jordan and Kotansky (1993:67–70); Gill (1974:117–34).
32 gunnel e kroth
are cut out and burnt, an action considered as too much of a standard
procedure to be mentioned.65 The animal is then divided, but one back
leg is kept intact, though its thighbone may have been cut out and burnt
with the other thighbone. The rest of the body, or a part of it, is stripped
of meat, and this meat is put on the table, and the clean bones are also
preserved. After displaying the meat and perhaps also the back leg and the
bones, the ritual is concluded by taking some meat from the table,
apargmata (l. 19), and burning it together with the back leg and the
bones. The rest of the meat is consumed in the sanctuary, as it was
forbidden to carry it away (l. 20).
The ritual prescribed in the Selinous lex sacra seems to be very similar to
the activity which can be reconstructed from the zooarchaeological evidence
from the Long Altar at Isthmia and from Altar U at Kommos. The burning
of a wider selection of bones than the usual meria and osphys at all three sites
must have been of ritual importance and a suggestion is to see it as a different
and previously unrecognized manner of staging a theoxenia ritual, using not
only meat but also bones. At most theoxenia, the food on the sacred table was
taken by the religious functionaries at the end of the ceremony, but at
Selinous the ritual was modified as the thigh, the bones and some of the
meat were transferred to the divine sphere by means of fire as well, represent-
ing a moirocaust, to use Scott Scullion’s well-found term.66 Possibly some
meat was burnt with the bones also at Isthmia and Kommos, though this
cannot be ascertained from the bones alone. In any case, the divinity was
offered a more extensive share of the animal victims by increasing the
number of bones burnt on the altar and perhaps also some meat.
To perform a theoxenia ceremony, and to invite the deity and offer him
a table with food and a kline to lie back on, have been interpreted as means
for intensifying a thysia, in order to bring the gods closer during this ritual
and to negotiate the divide between immortals and mortals inherent in
thysia sacrifice.67 The display and burning of the bones from the meat at
some instances of theoxenia can be seen as an additional way of modifica-
tion. In the end, almost the entire skeleton would join the thighbones and
the osphys on the altar.68

65
For possible instances of the meria being specifically mentioned to be burnt, see the examples
in n. 61.
66
Scullion (2000:165–6).
67
For the ritual function and meaning of theoxenia, see Jameson (1994a:53–7); Bruit Zaidman (2005:
40–2); Ekroth (2008a). On thysia as separating gods and men, see Vernant (1989).
68
A similar ritual may actually be referred to in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes (136–7) when the god
burns the hoofs and heads of the slaughtered cattle, after having cooked and divided the meat in
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 33
Sacrificial Victims, Food or Something Else
The evidence considered so far has focused on how the zooarchaeological
evidence can be connected to sacrificial rituals as we know them from
written and iconographical sources. The bone material clearly presents us
with a more complex and varied view of both thysia and theoxenia, and
informs our understanding of these rituals as we encounter them in texts,
inscriptions and images.
For the rest of this chapter, I will address the issue of animal sacrifice
and meat consumption. Modern scholarship has often claimed that both
the killing of animals and the eating of meat in Greek antiquity were
intimately linked to the sacrifice of domestic animals, and that animal
sacrifice was a prerequisite for the consumption of meat.69 Though
generally accepted, this position has met with some disbelief, as there is
evidence for killing animals and handling meat which seems incompa-
tible with sacrifice, both as to the species involved and where the actions
took place.70 The zooarchaeological material offers new possibilities for
understanding the relation between these two activities and suggests that
the modern concept “animal sacrifice” should be reconsidered and
diversified.
From the written and iconographical sources, it is clear that the Greeks
sacrificed and ate cattle, sheep, goats and pigs. Folkert van Straten’s seminal
study Hiera Kala has clearly demonstrated that what is to be considered as
the preferred sacrificial species depends on the kind of source material
used.71 In the sacrificial representations on the vase-paintings, the cattle
dominate, while on the votive reliefs pigs or piglets are most frequent.
In the sacrificial calendars and sacred laws, on the other hand, sheep are the
preferred victims. Each kind of evidence clearly had its own reality.
The zooarchaeological evidence from Greek sanctuaries confirms the
predominance of cattle, ovicaprines and swine, but the bones also show the
presence of a greater diversity of species. The question is how this variation
is to be interpreted and how we are to understand the presence of deer, wild
boars, foxes, bears, horses, mules, dogs, cats, chicken, geese, pigeons,
weasels, turtles and snakes, not to mention crocodiles, antelopes, gazelles,
camels, vultures, lions and hippopotamuses. Do the bones of these animals

a manner resembling a theoxenia ritual, see Ekroth (2008a:203); Jaillard (2007:114–18); and Thomas
in this volume (Chapter 7).
69
Vernant (1989:25 and 38); Durand (1989b); Burkert (1985:55); Jameson (1988a:87–8); Davidson
(1997:15–16).
70
See Ekroth (2007:249–52). 71 van Straten (1995:170–86).
34 gunnel e kroth
represent sacrificial victims, are they animals which have been consumed or
do they correspond to other types of activity? Does the variety of animals
reflect a more diversified taste among the dining worshippers, and perhaps
also among the gods, than our written and iconographical sources tell us?
The problem with what to make of the unusual animals has been more
or less avoided by passing over most of these species in a sketchy manner at
publication, often by listing the bones of the major, domesticated animals
eaten today, while referring the rest to a separate category, sometimes
under the heading “non-edible species.” In all, the zooarchaeological
material recovered in any sanctuary rarely contains more than 10 percent
of species other than cattle, sheep, goats or pigs. On the other hand, these
animals are part of the archaeological context of the cult place. Modern
biases regarding what can be eaten or what the Greeks may have sacrificed
and consumed should not lead to a dismissal of these remains simply as
garbage and intrusions. A closer look at the evidence shows that the picture
is more complex.
The analysis of these more unusual species has first of all to consider
what type of bones from each kind of animal is present, as well as the find
contexts. Claws, paw bones, teeth and horns form a particular group, as
such bones could have been attached to animal skins displayed in the
sanctuary or been dedicated as individual bone offerings rather than as part
of cuts of meat, especially when deriving from rare or non-local animals.72
Horns, and perhaps also skulls, could have been kept as memorials of
sacrifices or assembled into altars.73 The exotic fauna is best interpreted as
unusual and tantalizing bones being given as votives, perhaps as recollec-
tions of travel or experiences abroad. These exceptional pieces can seldom
constitute evidence for these animals having been sacrificed and eaten.
The phalanx of a gazelle found in Messene and an astragal of the same
animal from the Artemision at Ephesos are not to be taken as the remains
of sacrificial victims, neither as the leftovers of outlandish meals, but as
votives.74 The same goes for the camel, vulture and ostrich bones from
Ephesos, as well as for the bear teeth from the same site, which are
pierced and may have belonged to a piece of jewellery.75 The Heraion on
Samos is particularly rich in such zooarchaeological finds, one of the
more spectacular being the jaw of a crocodile which when alive must
have measured more than five metres from the snout to the tip of the
72
For the dedication of skins in sanctuaries, see Anth. Pal. 6.111, 112, 115 and 116; Diod. Sic. 4.22 (heads
and feet); see also Larson in this volume (Chapter 2).
73 74
See above, n. 25. Messene II:106–7; Ephesos I:114; Ephesos IV:231–2.
75
Bammer (1998:38–9, Table 1, and 40, fig. 12).
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 35
tail.76 Just as fossils have been suggested to have inspired Greek myths,
exotic bones could have been used in the construction of both the ded-
icator’s personal history and that of the community or the sanctuary.77
Leaving the individual bones aside, of prime interest are instead bones
from the meat-bearing parts of the animals and, in particular, when the
bones from the species usually considered as “non-edible” have been recov-
ered together with the cattle, sheep, goat and pig bones, that is, the remains
of animals which definitely were sacrificed and eaten. Furthermore, the
bones should derive from assemblages that represent the debris from altars
or leftovers from meals where the meat had been consumed.
If we begin with the bones interpreted as dinner debris, the bulk is made
up of sheep and goats, cattle and pigs, but mixed with these remains are
also dogs, equids and game, often demonstrating the same butchering
marks and usually being unburnt. At the Aire sacrificielle to the north of
the temple of Apollo Daphnephoros at Eretria has been found an Archaic
deposit of unburnt sheep, goat and pig bones, which demonstrate all the
characteristics of being leftovers from meals. Among these bones were
recovered the remains of two dogs with knife marks, attesting to their
being flayed and gutted, and chopping marks indicating the meat being
divided into smaller portions.78 The variation of anatomical elements, the
fragmentation of the bones and the traces of butchering show that these
dogs did not accidentally end up with the sheep, goats and pigs, but they
had been slaughtered and consumed, just as had the other animals.
At Isthmia, the remains of the dining in the Archaic and Classical periods
were dumped in the Large Circular Pit, a former reservoir, to the south-
west of the temple of Poseidon. The bones recovered represent at least
twenty-five cattle, thirty-two sheep or goats and five pigs, but also one dog,
some bones of which showed signs of being butchered.79 The unburnt
deposits around the late Archaic altar of Artemis at Olympia, which
consisted mainly of sheep and goat and to a lesser extent of cattle, as well
as some pig bones, also contained remains of dog.80 Among the bones from
the kitchen in the sanctuary of Poseidon and Amphitrite on Tenos were
not only cattle, pigs, sheep and goat but also dog.81
76
Boessneck and von den Driesch (1981); Boessneck and von den Driesch (1983a); Kyrieleis (1993: 138)
cf. Kyrieleis (1988:220–1), for the offering of a bone of a fossilized, Pleistocene hippopotamus.
77 78
Tassignon (2005); cf. Mayor (2000). Eretria:180 and pl. 142.6. 79 Isthmia:140.
80
Olympia:156 – only 2 canine bones from a total of 1380 specimens, though consisting of a pelvic bone
and a tibia, both meat-bearing parts.
81
Tenos:451, Table 7, two fragments of crania and one from radius–ulna. Bones from more than thirty-
three dogs, often the upper legs, have been recovered with the animal bones from Didyma,
interpreted by the excavator to have been eaten at ritual meals in the sanctuary of Artemis just as
36 gunnel e kroth
These examples show that among the domesticated animals eaten in
sanctuaries we also have to include the dog, but this is not the only
domesticated species encountered among the bones in the dinner debris
deposits.82 In the sanctuary kitchen on Tenos was found a fragment of the
head of a donkey, and a Hellenistic deposit at the Herakleion on Thasos
contained unburnt horse bones with butchering marks corresponding to
the meat being eaten; the ribs seem to have been particularly appreciated
and had been cut up into portions.83 The horse bones from the Artemision
at Ephesos have chop marks clearly showing that they had been divided to
be eaten.84 The dinner debris from the cave sanctuary at Pilarou on Thera
contained a substantial number of donkey bones, while the sanctuary of
the Heroes and Demeter at Messene yielded a small quantity of horse
and donkey among the unburnt zooarchaeological material recovered in
a pit in the centre of the courtyard.85 Also at the sanctuary of Athena at
Ilion horses seem to have been consumed in the fourth century bc.86
The retrieval of the equid bones among the remains of the other domes-
ticated species definitely eaten shows that horses, donkeys and mules
recovered in Greek sanctuaries are not to be routinely dismissed as garbage
or intrusions in these deposits.87
Finally, a surprising number of remains of non-domesticated animals
have been recovered in ritual contexts, the most common species being red
deer, fallow deer, roe deer and wild boar, and occasional bones of wild
fauna can be found at most sanctuary sites.88 At Messene, in the sanctuary
of the Heroes and Demeter, as much as a fifth of the zooarchaeological
material from the early Archaic and Classical periods derives from wild
animals, mainly red deer of all ages, roe deer, wild goat and a substantial
amount of wild boar, but also bear, fox, weasel and wolf are present.89
These wild species are mixed with the bones of cattle, sheep, goats and pigs,

the other animals found in the Didyma deposits, see Tuchelt (1992:75); Boessneck and Schäffer
(1986:285–94); Boessneck and van den Driesch (1983b:641–6). These bones have recently been
proposed to be the garbage from a Roman meat-market, a macellum, rather than the remains of
ritual activity, see Bumke (2006:224–9. At the altar in the sanctuary of Aphrodite at Tamassos,
Cyprus, a substantial quantity of broken dog bones were found, see Nobis (1976–7:285), suggesting
a consumption of canine meat.
82
Among settlement debris, dog bones are also found, sometimes with cut marks corresponding to the
flesh having been eaten, see Miletos:117–18; see also Roy (2007). There is a certain hesitation among
excavators and zooarchaeologists to consider dogs as food, see Snyder and Klippel (2003).
83
Tenos:427, Table 2; Thasos:819. 84 Ephesos I:109–10.
85
Thera:155–6 and 167; Messene II:103, Table 3 and 105. 86 Rose (2006:91).
87
For the written evidence concerning the consumption of equids, see Dalby (2003:180), sv. horse;
Dalby (1996:61).
88
For evidence of deer in Greek sanctuaries, see also the chapter by Larson in this volume (Chapter 2).
89
Messene II:101–2, Tables 2 and 3.
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 37
and are unburnt and fragmented, just as the domesticated animals, which
make up the bulk of the bones. At the altar of Asklepios at the same site,
10 percent of the animals are non-domesticated, mainly red deer and wild
boar.90 The find context, selection of body parts and the degree of burning
is not reported, unfortunately, and it is not known if these bones represent
altar debris or dinner refuse. Next to the temple of Artemis Orthia, also at
Messene, a variety of wild animal bones were recovered, around 5 percent
of all the zooarchaeological material, including aurochs, red deer, roe deer,
wild goat, wild boar, fox, hare, turtle and wolf.91 The wolf bones included
a shoulder-blade, a bone from the fleshier part of the body.92 Fallow deer
bones have been also recovered at the Heraion on Samos. Among the body
parts are forelegs, which had been handled in the same manner as the other
bones of domesticated species in these dinner deposits.93 Also the deer
bones from the Artemision at Ephesos bear cut marks compatible with
them being dinner debris, and so do some of the bear bones from the same
sanctuary.94
As a final example can be mentioned the sanctuary of Apollon and Artemis
at Kalapodi where the wild fauna constitutes a little more than 6 percent of
the bones from the Archaic period.95 The preferred species were red deer,
fallow deer, roe deer and wild boar, represented by vertebrae and fore and
back legs, which means good, meaty parts.96 Among the more spectacular
finds from Kalapodi is the shoulder-blade of a lion, found in a mixed
Geometric-Archaic layer in the central sanctuary.97 This scapula bears traces
of fire and has chop marks, possible indications of this lion having been
eaten, though these traces may have derived from skinning and accidental
burning.98 This particular case disregarded, a closer inspection of the animal
bones clearly indicates that game and other non-domesticated animals were
part of the menu at meals taking place in sanctuaries.

Did All the Animals Die at the Altar?

The consumption in sanctuaries of occasional dogs, horses, deer, wild
boars, bears, birds, fish and other non-domesticated animals should not

90
Messene I:298–9, Table 2 and 3, context B4.
91
Messene I:298–9, Table 2 and 3, contexts B2 and B3. 92 Messene I:302.
93
Samos:3–5, Table 1–3, and 37. 94 Ephesos IV:231; cf. Ephesos I:108.
95
Kalapodi:169, Table 48. 96 Kalapodi:87–119. 97
Kalapodi:114.
98
Cf. the lion bones from the Artemision at Ephesos, some of which may be the remains of meals, see
Ephesos IV:231. The consumption of lion meat is mentioned by Galen, De alim. fac. K 664, though it
is clearly considered as an inferior kind of food.
38 gunnel e kroth
be too surprising, as these species occur in the consumption debris from
settlement contexts.99 The question is whether all animals were actually
taken alive into the sanctuary and there sacrificed at the altar, before being
cooked and consumed. Just because they are present in the consumption
debris, are we to consider dogs, horses and game as sacrificial victims?
A comparison has here to be made between the altar deposits and the
leftovers from meals. The burnt remains from the altars, which represent the
god’s portion of the sacrificial victims, consist of cattle, sheep and goats,
a much more limited selection than the range of species present in the dinner
debris. Thighbones and tails from dogs, horses and game were not placed in
the altar fire, and rarely were those of pigs. The bone material indicates
a distinction in species between the animals present in the remains that come
from the activity at the altar and the debris being left after the worshippers
had eaten the meat, suggesting that not all animals eaten at ritual meals had
been sacrificed at the altar with all the trappings of a thysia.
Occasionally we are in the fortunate situation that allows comparisons
to be made between altar debris and dining refuse from the same site, such
as at Isthmia. Here, cattle, sheep and goats were sacrificed and burnt at the
Long Altar, while the dining debris recovered from the Large Circular Pit,
to the south-west of the temple, contained bones of the same species as at
the altar, but also at least five pigs and a dog.100 Some of the cows, sheep
and goats sacrificed at the altar may have been eaten at the Large Circular
Pit, but at these meals were also consumed animals that have left no traces
at the altar. At the Herakleion on Thasos, the deposit that is connected
with the altar contains sheep, goat and cattle, while pig bones are only
found in the dinner debris dumped elsewhere.101 From the Artemision at
Ephesos, the burnt bones consist of sheep, goats and cattle, while the
unburnt dinner debris also included swine and small quantities of equids
and game.102 At Kommos, there are no burnt pig bones on the exterior
altars U, H and C, while on the hearths inside Temples B and C, buildings
which may have functioned as dining rooms, hestiatoria, contemporary
with Altars U and C, respectively, remains of pigs were found, in later
periods in large quantities, together with fishbones, seashells and
eggshells.103 At Eretria, the Late Geometric altar material from the Aire

99
See Columeau (2000:154–6); Miletos:117–19, Table 1; Snyder and Klippel (2003); Roy (2007).
100
Isthmia:133–7, 140 and 149–53, Tables 1 and 2. 101 Thasos:804–14 and 817–19.
102
Ephesos I:107–15 and Plan 3; Ephesos IV:226–31.
103
Kommos I:Table 6.1, 419 and 427 (Temple B), 422 (Altar U), 430–1 (Altar H), 431–2 (Temple C) and
434 (Altar C), Table 6.2, 441 (Altar U), 439 and 444 (Temple B), 446 (Altar H), 447 (Temple C),
448–9 (Altar C), cf. 450, Table 6.3 and 476; Kommos II:683–5.
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 39
sacrificielle consists almost exclusively of burnt sheep and goat thighbones,
kneecaps, sacrum bones and tail vertebrae. In a series of contempoary
hearths in front of the temple of Apollo, bones of sheep and goat, but
also pigs and dogs were found, though the relation between these deposits
and the Aire sacrificielle is far from ascertained.104
The sanctuary at Kalapodi once more offers a tantalizing case. The early
Archaic ash deposit consisted of c. 50 percent small burnt bone splinters,
though the fragmentary and apparently unburnt state of the rest of the
bones, especially the long bones, suggest that they represent dinner
debris.105 Interestingly, throughout the deposits from the LH IIIC period
and onwards, sacra and tails are missing, not only from the domesticated
species, but also from the wild animals, suggesting a possible thysia treat-
ment also of these.106 However, as the parts lacking may not only represent
the portions removed to be burnt for the gods, but also honorary shares
given as priestly perquisites, certainty can only be gained by recovery of the
altar deposits.107
The bone material suggests that not all animals eaten in the sanctuaries
had been killed at an altar in the full thysia manner, with all the preceding
rituals, and thighbones and tails cut out and burnt for the gods. Some of
the animals, or even most of the animals consumed at the meals following
a sacrifice could very well have been slaughtered in the sanctuary, though
not sacrificed at the altar. It is also possible that some animals never entered
the sanctuary alive to be killed there. Whole carcasses or sections, such as
heads, legs and backs, already butchered to supplement the live victims,
may have been brought by the individuals who had killed the animals
themselves at home or during a hunt, or this meat could have been bought
in the market where the animals had been slaughtered by a professional
butcher. On the other hand, even if a thysia did not take place each time an
animal was killed, such slaughter does not have to be considered as secular
in our sense of the term, and it could very well have been accompanied by
libations, cutting of hair from the animal’s head, prayer and sprinkling of
some blood.108 Jewish kosher and Muslim hâllal butchering provide con-
temporary examples of how the procuring of meat can be considered as
something holy also within daily life.

104
Chenal–Velarde (2001:25–35, esp. 29, Table 1). 105 Kalapodi:13–14 and 162–4.
106
Felsch (2001:196–7); Kalapodi:162.
107
For the inclusion of the osphys in the prerogatives of the priest, see Ekroth (2009:131); Dimitrova
(2008:251–7).
108
For a discussion of such scaled-down rituals, see Berthiaume (1982:62–70 and 79–93); Ekroth
(2007:268–72).
40 gunnel e kroth
The bones from dogs, equids and game indicate that such animals only
constituted a small part of the meat eaten in sanctuaries. At some sites, the
material can be taken to represent a few animals, or even parts of animals,
and the reasons for bringing this meat to the sanctuary may have been
diverse. A use within ritual seems to be the less likely explanation for the
presences of canines and equids in most instances, as the evidence for
sacrifice of dogs is scant and mainly concerns rituals where the animals
were destroyed or abandoned, such as purifications or sacrifices to divi-
nities such as Hekate or Enyalios.109 There are two vase-paintings, which
may show dog sacrifices, but the nature of the rituals is difficult to grasp.110
A similar situation applies regarding horses, donkeys and mules. Although
spectacular horse sacrifices are known for Poseidon and Helios, where the
animals could be plunged into the sea, as well as in mythic contexts, such as
holocausts at the burial of Patroklos, the consumption of meat from equids
does not seem to have been part of any ritual.111
A desire or need to increase the amount of food available to be eaten on
a particular occasion probably lies behind the presence of dogs and horses
in the zooarchaeological deposits from sanctuaries. Canines and equids
never seem to have been a prestigious kind of food, though the bone
material suggests that they could be eaten on a fairly regular basis, even in
sanctuaries.112 The spectrum for what could be eaten by the Greeks was
certainly wider than we tend to believe, as even animals dead from natural
causes, thnesidia or kenebreia, are known to have been consumed.113
A will to supplement the major domesticated animals eaten may also
explain the presence of bones from wild animals, as there is hardly any
evidence in the written and iconographical sources of wild animals being
sacrificed and eaten in sanctuaries.114 On the other hand, the lack of
mention of game in these documents may simply be because of the
109
Theophr. Char. 16.13; Danner (2003:78); Zaganiaris (1975:323–8). See also the find of the remains of
150 domestic dogs in a well in the Athenian Agora, Snyder (1999:284).
110
Attic red-figure lekythos, Athens NM 1695, van Straten (1974:179, fig. 30). Boiotian red-figure
skyphos, Athens NM 12591, Avronidaki (2008:8–14, plates 5.3 and 6.4). For discussion of these vases,
see Ekroth (2013b:24–5).
111
See Georgoudi (2005b), for the written evidence.
112
A few mentions in the written sources give at hand that the Greeks could eat dogs, though they were
often considered as a kind of marginal food or to be used for medical purposes, see Dalby (1996:60);
Dalby (2003:120, sv. Dog); Roy (2007:344–8). A market for donkey meat is mentioned by Pollux
9.48, see also Berthiaume (1982:92–3).
113
Berthiaume (1982:81–92). Animals dead from natural causes may perhaps not have been brought to
sanctuaries for reasons of impurity, see LSCG 124, line 14, regulation for the purity of a sanctuary,
Eresos, second century bc; Ekroth (2007:266).
114
A fifth-century Attic votive relief shows a family at an altar offering a goose and leading a deer,
presumably a sacrificial victim, Athens NM 1950, ThesCRA I, 15, no. 91 (Hekate); LIMC II, Artemis,
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 41
difficulties of knowing to what extent the victims could be procured on
a specific occasion and therefore they were left out.115 Occasionally sacred
laws stipulate wild victims, even specifying their weight, perhaps an indica-
tion that these animals were already dead and butchered when brought to
the sanctuary.116 Sections of wild animals could have been offered to the
gods, a practice which would explain the finds of occasional bones of game
in many sanctuaries. These cuts of meat may have been displayed on
a sacred table as a part of trapezomata or theoxenia rituals, as suggested by
the Archaic bronze plaques from the sanctuary of Hermes and Aphrodite at
Kato Syme Viannou on Crete, which show young males carrying legs and
heads of ibexes, as well as entire animals.117 A regulation concerning royal
taxes at Aigai, in the early third century bc, stipulates that back legs from
game were to serve as honorary gifts, further demonstrating that such parts
certainly could be a valued commodity.118
The meat from wild animals may also have fulfilled a particular function
within a ritual, reflecting local practices or traits of the divine recipient and,
not surprisingly, many of the sanctuaries with a higher representation of
game belong to Artemis.119 A famous passage in Xenophon’s Anabasis
(5.3.10) describes how he established a sanctuary to this goddess at
Skillous. At the annual festival, there was a hunt, where the sons of
Xenophon and of the villagers killed wild boars, roe and deer, partly on
the grounds belonging to the sanctuary, and presumably these animals
would have supplemented the other victims at the meals following the
sacrifice. Scattered literary passages such as these can be better understood
by comparison with the zooarchaeological evidence.

no. 461, c. 450–400 bc. The torch-bearing goddess receiving the sacrifice has been identified as
Hekate or Artemis.
115
Though deer may also have been kept in deer parks in order to facilitate the supply, see Nobis
(1976–7:292); Samos:41. At Kassope, the settlement material contains a large quantity of deer and
wild boar, which demonstrate a distribution as to age and sex which is not compatible with these
animals having been hunted in the wild, see Columeau (2000:155–6).
116
See NGSL 5, lines 37–8, provision of wild boar weighing 20 minae at the sacrifice to Herakles,
Attika, early second century ad, cf. commentary to lines 37–8 (the difficulty lies in knowing whether
kapros is a wild or domesticated boar). Cf. Paus. 8.38.8, a boar sacrificed to Apollon Epikourios at
the agora of Megalopolis and, once slaughtered, to be taken to the sanctuary of Apollon Parrhasios
where the thighs are cut out and burned, and the meat eaten, i.e. a case of an already dead victim
brought to a sanctuary for further rituals. See also LSS 85, lines 29–30, sacrifice of a (wild?) boar,
a dog and a kid to Enyalios, Lindos, late fifth century bc; cf. Stengel (1910:197–201).
117
Lembessi (1985:230), for example, A37, 47, 50, 24 and 9 (legs) and A 29 (head). For the zooarch-
aeological evidence from this sanctuary, see Nobis (1988).
118
Chandezon (2003:201–5), no. 52, lines 14–16, a skelos to be given from the hunted boars and deer.
119
For a ritual explanation of the presence of deer bones, see Larson in this volume (Chapter 2).
42 gunnel e kroth
The Particular Pigs
The absence of dogs, equids and game in the altar deposits is hardly
unexpected. The very low number of pig bones in the burnt assemblages
making up the god’s portion is, on the other hand, more surprising.
Pigs were definitely eaten in sanctuaries, but there is a much larger
number of pigs’ bones in the consumption debris than among the bones
from the altars. Demeter being the main deity worshipped most likely
explains the high proportion of pig bones at sites such as Corinth, Ephesos,
Kyrene and Knossos, as well as at the sanctuary of the Heroes and Demeter
at Messene in the Hellenistic period.120 But pigs are quite frequent also in
the zooarchaeological material representing the dining refuse at the sanc-
tuary of Poseidon and Amphitrite at Tenos, at Kalapodi, at the sanctuary of
Herakles on Thasos and at Tegea in the sanctuary of Athena Alea, as well as
in the later phases at Kommos.121 At some sites, a considerable part of the
meat eaten was pork, such as at the Aire sacrificielle at Eretria, where more
than a fifth of the Archaic zooarchaeological evidence from the leftovers
from meals derives from pigs.122
The number of pigs and piglets shown on votive reliefs and vase-
paintings, and the fact that they occur in the sacrificial calendars, constitute
evidence for pigs being ritually killed and considered as sacrificial
victims.123 On the other hand, the lack of pig bones in the altar deposits
suggests that these animals may not always have been sacrificed in a thysia
manner. Possibly a different ritual is to be imagined when it came to killing
pigs in sanctuaries, at which the thighbones and tails were of less interest
than in the cases involving cattle and ovicaprines.124
At first glance, the lack of pigs’ tails in the altar deposits may be
suspected to depend on their not curving and rising in the same manner
as cows’ tails when placed in a fire. If that was the case, the physical qualities
of the pigs would make them unfit for one kind of ritual handling at
a thysia. In order to resolve this issue, I conducted experiments with
burning pigs’ tails on a bed of glowing coals (Fig. 1.5). At first, an abundant
and fragrant smoke rose to the sky, while after around ten to fifteen

120
Bookidis and Stroud (1997:78 and 243); Bookidis et al. (1999:17, 32–8 and 51–2); Ephesos II, 55–70;
Crabtree and Monge (1990:114–15); Jarman (1973:177–9); Messene II:102–3.
121
Tenos:426–7, Tables 1–2; Kalapodi:56–68 and 155; Thasos:804, Table 1, and 817–19, Lot 6; Tegea:
198–9; Kommos I:450, Table 6.3, 476 and 481.
122
Eretria:176, Table 1, and 179. 123 See van Straten (1995:170–81).
124
The deposition and/or burning of young pigs and piglets in Demeter sanctuaries constitutes an
additional kind of ritual action, see Mytilene:209; Ephesos V:85–6; cf. Hamilakis and Konsolaki
(2004), for the treatment of the piglets in the Mycenaean sanctuary at Methana.
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 43
minutes, the tip of the tails began to move and then to rise gracefully.
In some cases, the tail ended up pointing towards the sky, while in other
instances it described a full circle, finally touching the sacrum bone.
The fact that a total novice, such as a modern scholar like myself, could
accomplish the hiera kala with pigs’ tails shows that it cannot have required
particular skills. The lack of pigs’ sacra and caudal vertebrae in the burnt
debris from the altars cannot be explained by them not curving in the
manner of the cows’ tails, an essential element of a thysia sacrifice.
If pigs were sacrificed according to a different ritual, how would such
actions have been accomplished? In the Demeter sanctuary at Kyrene was
found a deposit of unburnt thighbones and pelvises of pigs together with
ash and charcoal, and this material perhaps represents a different kind of
sacrificial handling of pigs, where the meroi were cut out, but not burnt.125
Of great interest in this context is the ritual killing of a pig described in
book 14 of the Odyssey, an event which can suggest how such a ritual was
executed. Here the pig herder Eumaios slaughters a fat swine to honour his
guest, the disguised Odysseus. The killing takes place in Eumaios’ house
and focuses on other actions than a thysia. Some hair and meat from the
boar are burnt on the household hearth for the gods and portions of cooked
meat are put aside for the Nymphs and Hermes, but there is no indication
of a particular handling of thighbones and tails, a fact which sets this ritual
apart from the other sacrifices found in Homer.126

The Communal (and Chaotic) Casserole

The distribution of animal species and their respective find contexts, as
evidenced in the zooarchaeological material, suggests that all animals eaten
in a sanctuary on a particular occasion were not necessarily sacrificed at the
altar. Such a distinction between sacrificial victims and other animals killed
with the principal intent to procure meat, which can be perceived in the
bone evidence, is actually confirmed by the epigraphical evidence.127
A late second-century bc inscription from Amorgos records a private cult
foundation by a man named Kritolaos for his dead son Aleximachos.128
The annual festival included animal sacrifice, a public meal and games.

125
Crabtree and Monge (1990:118). In some of the dinner debris deposits, the femora are missing from
pigs as well as from cattle, sheep and goats, see Olympia (2006:156); Tenos:445–6, fig. 15.
126
In fact, an alternative treatment of pigs was suggested already by Karl Meuli (1946:214, n. 1), see also
Ekroth (2009:144, n. 83).
127
On the concept of the hiereion, see also the discussion in Brulé and Touzé (2008).
128
LSS 61, lines 40–65.
44 gunnel e kroth
The officials in charge were to buy an ox, which was to be led in the
procession from the prytaneion to be sacrificed probably in or at a private
house (ll. 44–6). A huge meal was prepared, where the ox was eaten (ll.
49–50 and 62), but apparently the meat from other animals was consumed
on this occasion as well, as the officials were ordered to sell the hides
immediately. The plural ta dermata (l. 62) clearly shows that additional
animals, apart from the ox led in the procession, must have been involved,
though their kind and quantity are not given in the text and possibly they
were not sacrificed at the altar together with the ox. Finally, there was to be
a distribution of pigs’ meat for the ephebes (l. 64). These pigs are not
mentioned previously and we do not know how and when they were killed.
They may not have been sacrificial victims in the same sense as the ox, or
they were sacrificed according to a different ritual than the prestigious
victim which was led in the procession, but the pork given to the ephebes
might even have consisted of salted meat, bought for the occasion.129
If such a division between sacrificial victims and other animals can be
made, are we still to speak of ritual meals taking place in sanctuaries, if not
all the meat came from sacrificed animals? This we definitely can, I find,
even if the actual sacrificial victim is likely to have held a particular status
within the sphere of meat consumption, a fact that is evident from the
detailed regulations in the sacred laws of how this meat was to be
distributed.130 However, the zooarchaeological material provides us with
the insights not only of how different kinds of meat were handled in
a sanctuary, but also of how meat from various kinds of animal and of
various origins were integrated within the ritual. The important matter to
consider here are the cooking methods chosen.
First of all, it should be made clear that burnt bones cannot help us
understand the cooking procedure. Burning the bones in a fire results in
carbonization and calcination, and the bones become splintered, wrapped,
crinkled and shrunken from the heat.131 The bones from the god’s portion
consumed by the fire on the altar have this appearance, but so does
a holocaust of an entire animal, or the burning of the leftovers from

129
For the consumption of salted meat based on the zooarchaeological evidence, see Leguilloux
(2006).
130
On the distinction of various degrees of sacredness of meat, see Ekroth (2007). See also Fred Naiden
in this volume (Chapter 5) and Naiden (2013a), where he suggests that all present at a sacrifice may
not have received meat from the sacrificial victim, as there was not enough for all. On the status of
the hiereion, the sacrificial victim, see also Brulé and Touzé (2008).
131
Very well documented in Isthmia:140–6, fig. 3–14.
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 45
a meal if the exposure had been long and hot enough.132 The meal remains,
on the other hand, would contain most fleshy parts of the skeleton, save the
parts taken aside for the gods and parts removed in the initial stages of
butchering, and the material would have a high degree of fragmentation, as
the bones have usually been butchered into portions, and smashed and
broken to access the marrow. It should be noted that these deposits often
show a very low quantity of burnt bones, an essential distinction from the
altar deposits. The zooarchaeological material from the sanctuary of the
Heroes and Demeter at Messene was not burnt at all and few bones show
traces of fire in the dinner deposits from the Heraion on Samos, the
Herakleion on Thasos, the sanctuary of Poseidon and Amphitrite on
Tenos, the sacrificial area at Eretria, the Large Circular Pit at Isthmia,
the altar of Artemis at Olympia and the Pilarou cave sanctuary on Thera, to
mention a few examples.133
In the dinner deposits, the proportions between unburnt bones and
bones that show some traces of fire are important to take into account.
Though meat may be roasted without scorching, grilling will only leave the
outer ends of the bones charred by the fire, since the meat protects the rest
of the bone from being affected by the fire. Boiling will of course leave no
traces of fire at all. Our notion of cooking at Greek sacrifices is often (mis)
guided by the information in our other sources and we tend to assume that
grilling was the principal cooking method. In Homer, for example, all meat
is grilled, and there is no consumption of boiled meat, a fact that gave rise
to discussion already in antiquity.134 The Attic vase-paintings show spits
being held over the altar fire, and these scenes are often, and in my opinion
wrongly, taken to be depictions of the grilling of meat. Depicted here is
rather the grilling of the edible intestines, the splanchna, and the prepara-
tion of the meat usually took place elsewhere, in a particular kitchen, in the
open air on the festival meadow or on the hearth in the hestiatoria for
a select few, but not on the altar.135
Though boiling is seldom mentioned in our written sources and rarely
depicted, presumably since this was a less prestigious manner of cooking,
the fact that bones in the dinner deposits show so few traces of contact with
132
Bones thrown back into the fire as a way of garbage disposal are usually only discoloured, not
carbonized and calcined, see Mylona (2008:95–6).
133
Messene II:100; Samos:7; Thasos:811 and 817; Tenos:426 and 444; Eretria:177, Table 2, and 181–2;
Isthmia:140 and 153, Table 2B; Olympia (2006:154; Thera:153, 167 and 170. Cf. Miletos:124–5 and
Mytilene:209.
134
Pl. Resp. 4.404b–c; Euboulos, fr. 120K, ap. Ath. 25c; cf. Berthiaume (1982:15–16); Heath (2000).
135
On the rendering of splanchna and the preparation of meat on Attic vases, see van Straten (1995:
131–41 and 144–53).
46 gunnel e kroth
fire must lead to the conclusion that most of the meat eaten in the Greek
sanctuaries was boiled.136 This cooking method was convenient for several
reasons, especially when preparing food for a large number of people. All
the fat would stay in the rich broth, instead of spilling onto the fire as it
does when the meat is grilled. If the meat was butchered into portions, the
marrow was cooked and easily accessible, in particular if the bones were
broken at a later stage, and the fragmentary state of the bones of the
leftovers from meals indicates that marrow was a desired commodity.137
Boiling would make the meat tender, a connection explicitly made by
Philochoros, but also by the Cyclops in Euripides’ satyric play with the
same title, who states that he will grill some of Odysseus’ companions while
he boils the rest tender in the cauldron.138
However, apart from these practical and culinary advantages, boiling
also constituted the best way of integrating the different kinds of meat
available at the sanctuary. In the cauldron would be placed the meat from
the animals sacrificed at the altar in the thysia manner, as well as the meat
from the animals killed elsewhere, either inside the sanctuary or outside it,
but also meat brought to the sanctuary already butchered into portions. All
would be put into the “communal casserole” and, when boiled tender, no-
one could distinguish between the different kinds of meat as to origin,
species and where and how the killing had taken place, as it all would now
constitute sacred meat, ready for distribution and consumption.139

Concluding Remarks
In this chapter, I have attempted to show the potential of the zooarchaeo-
logical evidence for our understanding of Greek ritual practices, as well as
the importance of a careful collection of the bone material, followed by
136
For representations of boiling, see the “Ricci hydria,” van Straten 1995, V154, fig. 122 (bottom);
Athens, Acropolis:654, Gebauer (2002:Z 1, fig. 163); Paris, Louvre C 10918, Gebauer (2002:Z 21, fig.
185). On the importance of boiling of meat at sacrifices, see also Ekroth (2007:266–8); Ekroth
(2008b:98–100); cf. Detienne (1977:174–82).
137
An illustrative example of pot-size butchering is found in the sanctuary of Poseidon and Amphitrite
on Tenos, where the long bones of sheep, goats and pigs had been divided into three parts,
facilitating boiling of the meat and extraction of the marrow, as well as the distribution of suitable
portions, see Tenos:442–3 and fig. 13; Étienne and Braun (1986:Bb 11, pl. 95 and 115, Eb 8 and 9, pl.
105 and 121), for the cooking pots.
138
Phil. FGrHist 328, F 173; Eur. Cycl. 243–6. Around two-thirds of the meat of cattle, sheep, goat and
pigs has a texture that requires it to be cooked at a high temperature, such as boiling, for a long
period of time in order to become tender, see Dumont (1987:15–16).
139
On the issue of “sacrificial” versus “sacred” meat, see Ekroth (2007). Boiling as a means for hiding
the origin of the meat is a central theme in the myths of Tantalos and Lykaon where the gods are
offered human flesh to eat, see Ekroth (2008b:95–102).
 Bare Bones: Zooarchaeology and Greek Sacrifice 47
detailed analysis and publication. The zooarchaeological material can
provide a perspective different from that offered by the written and
iconographical sources and offers us rare insights into the practical execu-
tion of animal sacrifice by revealing the mundane reality of Greek ritual
where not only beef, mutton and pork were eaten, but also dogs, horses and
deer. One might even say that if the texts and the images present us with
the picture that the Greeks wanted to convey, the animal bones may tell us
what they actually did, whether or not they wanted us to know about it.

Appendix Principal Zooarchaeological Deposits from Greek

Sanctuary Sites

Asea Vila (2000)

Athens Reese (1989)
Ephesos I Bammer, Brein and Wolff (1978)
Ephesos II Forstenpointner (2001)
Ephesos III Forstenpointner (2003)
Ephesos IV Forstenpointner, Krachler and Schildorfer (1999)
Ephesos V Forstenpointner, Weissengruber and Galik (2005)
Eretria Studer and Chenal-Velarde (2003)
Isthmia Gebhard and Reese (2005)
Kalapodi Stanzel (1991)
Kommos I Reese, Rose and Ruscillo (2000)
Kommos II Shaw (2000)
Kourion Davis (1996)
Messene I Nobis (1994)
Messene II Nobis (1997)
Miletos Peters and von den Driesch (1992)
Mytilene I Ruscillo (1993)
Mytilene II Ruscillo (2013)
Nemea MacKinnon (2013)
Olympia Benecke (2006)
Plakari Groot (2014)
Samos Boessneck and von den Driesch (1988)
Tegea Vila (2000)
Tenos Leguilloux (1999)
Thasos Gardeisen (1996)
Thera Becker (1997)
 chapter 2

Venison for Artemis? The Problem of Deer Sacrifice

Jennifer Larson

In spite of more than a century of scholarly work, there is still no widely

accepted definition of animal sacrifice in the ancient Mediterranean world.
This is the case because the varied and complex ritual uses of animal bodies
defeat all attempts to distill their essence. One recognizable subset of
sacrifice, however, is alimentary sacrifice, in which the animal is concep-
tualized primarily as a source of food, rather than a tool for purification,
divination, or magic. The influential Paris school of Marcel Detienne and
Jean-Pierre Vernant has described Greek alimentary sacrifice as limited by
its very conceptual structure to domesticated animals. The proper con-
sumption of domesticated animals through sacrifice is a cultural linchpin
that situates human beings midway between animals and gods and allows
humans to define themselves as civilized. Adopting an even broader, cross-
cultural theory of sacrifice, Jonathan Z. Smith says that sacrifice “appears to
be, universally, the ritual killing of a domesticated animal by agrarian or
pastoralist societies.” He describes sacrificial ritual as the elaboration and
culmination of the selective breeding and killing that lie at the core of
domestication.1
The presence of bones from deer and other wild animals in some Greek
sanctuaries, particularly those of Artemis, presents a challenge to this
interpretation. Modern studies in archaeozoology suggest that from pre-
history to the present in Europe and the Near East, certain animals have
existed in a third state, neither domesticated nor wild, but subject to an
unusual degree of interaction with and control by humans. These include

* I would like to thank Alexandra Villing for her helpful comments on an earlier draft of this chapter,
as well as Jack Sasson and Ian Rutherford for suggesting bibliography.
1
J. Z. Smith (1987:149); Detienne and Vernant (1989:5, 8, 37–8); Vernant (1991:298–9). With respect to
Greek religion, the idea that wild creatures were excluded from sacrifice was anticipated at the turn of
the century by Paul Stengel, who argued that the conventions of Greek sacrifice required that a tame,
live animal be brought to the altar and that it should “agree” to the sacrifice by nodding its head or
giving some other sign. Bringing a dead animal to the altar would violate the conventions; therefore
wild animals could not be sacrificial victims. See Stengel (1890:85), (1910:201).

48
 Venison for Artemis? 49
various antelopes, wild caprids, and especially deer. While the dietary
importance of these animals has varied according to the period and
place, their significance in the symbolic and alimentary systems of ancient
Mediterranean cultures is great enough to merit a more substantial role in
any theoretical description of ancient human–animal relations.
Furthermore, the use of these animals as sacrificial victims, if shown to
be normative in certain cults, regions, or periods, would require accom-
modation in any view of sacrifice that locates its primary significance in
a strict distinction between domesticated and wild animals and sees sacri-
fice and hunting as polar opposites.
Bones from deer and other wild animals are not unusual finds in Greek
sanctuaries, but how can we determine whether they are the products of
sacrifice? Especially in the case of large, dangerous animals like wild pigs
and bears, remains such as skulls, teeth, and tusks may have been brought
to the sanctuary as votive gifts. Literary sources speak of heads and skins of
deer hung from trees as dedications to Artemis and Apollo, and while this
practice is sometimes understood to take place in the wilderness, such
trophies were also brought into sanctuaries as thank offerings for the
successful hunt.2 In the study of Greek religion, we distinguish this type
of offering from one in which the freshly killed animal is dismembered, and
parts of its body are set aside for the deity (usually by burning on an altar)
while other parts are cooked and consumed in a ritual of commensality.3
The best available criteria for determining whether this was the case for
a given deer specimen are proximity of the bones to an altar, location of
bones in deposits with the remains of domesticated animals presumed to be
sacrificial victims, the distribution of bone types, and whether any of the
bones show signs of burning.4
Recently analyzed bones from Blegen’s excavation of the Mycenaean
palace of Pylos have revealed evidence of sacrifice that appears similar to the
normative process described by Homer (Od. 3.4–11) in the episode of

2
Anth. Pal. 6.110 (antlers nailed to pine tree), 6.111 (skin and horns dedicated to Artemis Agrotera),
6.112 (dedication to Apollo), 6.253 (to nymphs and Pan); Diod. Sic. 4.22 (Sicilian tradition of hanging
heads and feet on trees).
3
There is no widely accepted definition of sacrifice. In this chapter I focus on alimentary sacrifice, in
which the animal is conceptualized primarily as a food source (and for which there is abundant
comparative evidence); in the Greek system this includes both commensal and, to some degree,
renunciatory (partial or full holocaust) sacrifice. In other types of Greek “sacrifice,” the animal is
conceptualized primarily as an instrument of purification (as with piglet blood used to sprinkle the
perimeter of a sacred area), of divination (pre-battle sacrifice), or is used in sympathetic magic (oath
sacrifice). Crossovers are not unusual (e.g. divination in an alimentary sacrifice).
4
For a summary of methodological issues involved with sacrificial bones, see Ekroth (2009:134–6).
50 jennifer l arson
Telemachos’ visit to Pylos. Five separately deposited groups of bones,
presumably representing separate sacrificial meals, were found to contain
the burned femur, humerus, and mandible of cattle, which had clearly
been stripped of flesh before burning. The surprise is that two of these
groups also included the femur and/or humerus from deer, processed in the
same way. Each group of bones was carefully deposited inside the palace.
This is the earliest evidence for what we think of as standard Greek
sacrifice. We don’t know which deity or deities were the recipients of
these offerings, though Poseidon is of course a strong possibility, and some
scholars think that Artemis’ name appears on Linear B tablets from Pylos.
The Pylos tablets themselves include at least three mentions of a total of
sixteen deer, which Thomas Palaima has interpreted as evidence for
monitoring of deer preserves by the palace administration.5
Deer also figure in the Mycenaean strata from the sanctuary of Apollo at
Kalapodi near ancient Hyampolis. This sanctuary is well known for its
nearly continuous history of activity from the Late Bronze Age through the
Hellenistic period, and it features the most substantial find of deer bones at
any Greek sanctuary.6 The majority of the bones belonged to the period
immediately after the sanctuary was founded at the end of the Mycenaean
era (1150–1050 bce), when 443 red deer bones represented 6.8 percent of the
total mammal bones. Small but significant numbers of red deer bones
persisted in the record at each succeeding period. From 1050 to 900, the 65
red deer bones made up 9.0 percent of the total mammal bones; this was
the high point for the use of deer. The less common fallow deer also
appears in the assemblage, as do small numbers of bones from other wild
species including roe deer, wild pig, bear, fox, and hare. One way to
interpret the finds from Kalapodi, especially given the scattering of other
wild animal remains, is as hunting trophies. Yet according to Stanzel’s
faunal report, the evidence shows that the deer were processed in much the
same way as the domesticated animals. In both cases many of the bones
were partially burned, and the bones of both the deer and the domesticated
victims were found in the same areas.7 Felsch notes that the sacrum and tail
are missing from the bone assemblage for both the domestic animals and

5
Pylos fauna: Isaakidou et al. (2002:88; Stocker and Davis (2004:182–3). Artemis in Pylos tablets: PY
Es 650.5; Un 219.5. Deer preserves: Palaima (1992:72–3); cf. Halstead (1998–9: 185–6). Halstead
observes that the only wild animals mentioned in the Linear B texts are deer, whereas the faunal
assemblages from contemporary sites reveal a variety of wild species. The appearance of deer in the
texts indicates a special interest in the supply of these animals for consumption.
6
Felsch (1999:166–9). Cf. Bammer, Brein, and Wolff (1978:132–8); Morgan (2003:118).
7
Stanzel (1991:157).
 Venison for Artemis? 51
the deer, presumably because they were burned on the altar according to
a common Greek sacrificial practice.8 In this district, Artemis was known as
Elaphebolos, the Deer Shooter, and her festival was the Elaphebolia. Her
title is well attested in Greek poetry and cult inscriptions, and gave rise to
the month Elaphebolion, when, according to the lexicographers, they used
to offer a hind (ethuonto) to Artemis Deer Shooter.9 Athenaeus says that
cakes called elaphoi were offered in this month, presumably as a substitute
for real deer.10 Taken together with the bone evidence from Kalapodi, the
testimonia suggest a goddess much concerned with hunting, for whom
sacrificial offerings of deer were considered appropriate on special
occasions.11
Deer bones and antlers have been found at a number of other Greek
sanctuaries, but they are not substantial enough to demonstrate a sacrificial
practice rather than the deposition of an occasional trophy.12 One impor-
tant exception is the sanctuary of Artemis at Ephesos, where nearly one
hundred bones from fallow deer and red deer were found in layers dating
from the eighth to sixth centuries; it is not clear whether they were burned,
but some were found near the altar in the same areas as the bones of
domesticated animals. As at Kalapodi, small numbers of other wild animals
such as bear and wild pig were present.13 And here too, the deer were of
special importance as an attribute of the goddess. The stag was depicted on
Ephesian coins and stags were shown flanking the famous cult statue.
If some sanctuaries of Artemis practiced regular deer sacrifice, main-
tenance of deer on inviolate sanctuary lands would have ensured a ready
supply, as in the scenario described by Arrian for a sanctuary in the Persian

8
Van Straten (1988:57); Felsch (2001:196–7).
9
Poetry: Hom. Hymn. 27.2; Anacreon fr 348 Campbell; Soph. Trach. l. 214. Inscriptions: IGRR 3.780
= PHI Greek Inscriptions 275897 (Attalia in Pamphylia), CIG 2675b = PHI Greek Inscriptions
258856 (Iasos), SEG 43.399A = PHI Greek Inscriptions 153333 (Macedonia). Lexicographers: Anecd.
Bekk. 1.249.7–9; Etym. Magn. s.v. Elaphebolion. Cf. Ath. 8.334e (Apollonia in Chalkidike), Paus.
6.22.8–11 (Elis), Plut. De mul. vir. 244b–e (Hyampolis), Brein (1969:42).
10
Ath. 14.646e; compare Anth. Pal. 6.40, in which two oxen of dough are dedicated in place of real
animals.
11
Ekroth (2007:263).
12
For bones, antlers, and images of deer in sanctuaries, see Bevan (1986: vol. i.100–14; vol. ii.389–93).
For bibliography on faunal material in sanctuaries, see Payne (1985) and Reese (1994), (2005).
A substantial number of deer bones were found in the Demeter sanctuary–Hero shrine at
Messene. Whether from domesticated or wild animals, none of the bones there showed signs of
burning: Nobis (1997:100–2).
13
Bammer, Brein, and Wolff (1978:108); Forstenpointner, Krachler, and Schilorfer (1999:231). At the
Hera sanctuary on Samos, a few roe deer bones were found mingled with the remains of domes-
ticated sacrificial victims: Boessneck and von den Driesch (1988:41). Roe deer also appear in the
sanctuary of Aphrodite–Astarte at Tamassos (Nobis 1976–7:30) and red deer around the altar of
Asklepios in Messene (Nobis 1994:298–303). Cf. Ekroth (2007:256–63).
52 jennifer l arson
Gulf, on an island at the mouth of the Euphrates river. Here hunting was
proscribed except for the purpose of sacrifice to the local goddess. When
Alexander and his men encountered this island, they named it Ikaros in
honor of a Greek island near Samos, which contained a shrine of Artemis
Tauropolos.14 Presumably they did this because the Greek sanctuary had
some similar, well-known regulation forbidding hunting. Indeed, accord-
ing to the Sabbaitic manuscript of Apollodorus, Agamemnon offended
Artemis by killing a deer in a place called Ikarios, and was forced to offer his
daughter in sacrifice as a result.15 This account implies that the deer was
under the special protection of the goddess. There is some additional
evidence indicating that Artemis and the other gods of the hunt were
concerned with the protection of game animals as well as their destruction.
We think immediately of Aeschylus’ lines (Ag. 134–8, 140–3) describing
Artemis’ love for the suckling young of wild creatures and the anger of the
goddess at the killing of a pregnant hare. Another early myth concerns the
hind with golden antlers that Herakles captured as one of his labors but was
forbidden to kill because it belonged to Artemis.16 Several sanctuaries of
Artemis, Apollo, or Pan are described in the sources as refuges for hunted
animals, or perhaps fancifully, as places where wild beasts wandered about
tame and in harmony with one another.17
Still, the evidence for herds of deer attached to Greek sanctuaries is
limited. A sacred law from Hellenistic Morgantina lists animals to be raised
in a sanctuary, including deer, quail, rock doves, and turtle doves; another
inscription from Kyme forbids the hunting of deer – probably animals
confined in a sanctuary.18 On the other hand, Ulrich Sinn has suggested
that the sacred herds of Artemis at Lousoi, mentioned by Polybius (4.18.10:

14
Arr. Anab. 7.20.3–4, Paton (1892). Cf. Ael. NA 11.9; Strabo 16.3.2 (766); Dionys. Per. 610. For
Aegean Ikaros/Ikaria, see Strabo 14.1.19 (639).
15
Apollod. Epit. 3.21–2 (in the Sabbaitic text Agamemnon comments that not even Artemis could have
saved the deer; in the Vatican text he says ‘not even Artemis’ [could have shot better]). Other
versions: Davies (1988: Cypria 55–7) (Agamemnon having shot a deer said that he outshot even
Artemis), Soph. El. 569 (sporting in the goddess’ grove Agamemnon shot a deer and ‘chanced to say
a word’); Hyg. Fab. 98 (he spoke proudly against Diana after killing cervam eius), Schol. Hom. Il.
108a (Agamemnon killed the sacred goat raised in her grove), Tzetz. Lyc. 183 (Menelaus and
Agamemnon wounded a deer and bragged ‘not even Artemis’). See Bremmer (2002:25–6).
16
Cf. Xen. Cyn. 5.14: hunters let newborn hares go “for the goddess.” Hind with golden antlers sacred
to Artemis: Pind. Ol. 3.28–30 with schol., Apollod. Bibl. 2.5.3.
17
Theoc. Id. 2.66 (grove of Artemis); Strabo 5.215 (Artemis Aitolis), 14.643 (island near Kolophon);
Philost. Imag. 1.28.6 (Artemis Agrotera); Paus. 8.38.6 (Zeus on Lykaion); Ael. NA 11. 6 (Pan in
Arkadia), 7 (Apollo at Kourion), 9 (Artemis on Ikaros). See Brein (1969:29–30).
18
Engelmann (1976: no. 35) (Kyme); Manganaro (1999:57–60) (Morgantina). See Bremmer (2002:
42–3).
 Venison for Artemis? 53
thremmata tês theou) and sometimes assumed to be deer, were actually the
livestock of the local inhabitants, which they had driven into the sanctuary
in order to gain asylum.19 Sacred herds both mythic and historical were
common enough, but they were typically composed of domesticated
animals belonging to the deity and pastured on the deity’s lands. One
clear example of a Greek game park set aside for a deity is the sanctuary of
Artemis Ephesia founded by Xenophon in Skillous (Xen. An. 5.3.9,13).
Here deer and other wild animals were culled by hunting on the goddess’
lands during the annual festival and constituted part of the tithe of all the
goods of the land that was due each year. Because Xenophon’s cult was
closely modeled on that of Artemis at Ephesos, it is possible that Ephesos
had a similar tradition, which would help to account for the deer bones
found there. In the Xenophon passage the hunt has its place in the broader
ritual context, but a clear verbal distinction is made between domesticated
animals that are sacrificed, thuomenoi, and wild animals that are hunted,
thêreuomenoi. On the other hand, it is probable that parts from the hunted
animals were burned as offerings along with the other fruits of the land.
Offerings of both domesticated animals and game are envisioned as ele-
ments of thusia because both form a part of the local alimentary system.
We see the same concept of tithing in the famous ritual for Artemis Laphria
at Patrai, where a variety of live game animals and other fruits of the land
were immolated in a bonfire and described by Pausanias (7.18.11) as “a local
type of sacrifice” (tropos epichôrios thusias). 20
The motifs of deer mastery and sacrifice appear to have a distinctive
connection to the cult of Artemis. In the Euripidean version of Iphigeneia’s
sacrifice, a deer rather than a domesticated animal is substituted for the
human victim (IA 1555–1600). The image of Artemis subduing a deer with
a javelin is common in fourth-century art, and she sometimes appears to
bring deer to an altar as if they are destined for slaughter.21 These mythic
expressions indicate a blurring of the conceptual line between hunt,
sacrifice, and violent bloodshed that is integral to Artemis’ divine persona
and cult, but they cannot confirm a historical practice of deer sacrifice.
At least two Classical votive reliefs provide direct evidence of deer
sacrifice that appears comparable to the normative sacrifice of domesticated
animals. One, of fourth-century date, comes from a sanctuary of Artemis
on Mt. Kynthos at Delos (fig. 2.1), and was found with similar reliefs

19
Sinn (1992:186–7).
20
On the relationship between Xenophon’s Artemis and Artemis of Ephesos, see L’Allier (1998:7–12).
21
See the list of examples and discussion in Lamar (1990:38).
54 jennifer l arson

Fig. 2.1. Votive relief from the sanctuary of Artemis on Mt Kynthos on Delos
depicting a cervid being led to the altar. Photo: École française d’Athènes.

commemorating the sacrifice of domesticated stock. It illustrates a deer

being led to the altar by an attendant. Another relief from late fifth-century
Aegina shows worshipers bringing a stag and a goose to the altar, while an
unidentified goddess holding two torches stands by.22 Given the flight
instinct of deer, this type of sacrifice could not work unless the individual
victim was tamed for the purpose. Aristotle knew of tamed deer, and drew
on reports of their breeding habits for his work on viviparous mammals.
There are numerous testimonies of tame deer in game parks and sanctu-
aries from the Roman period, including Pausanias’ description of deer used
as draft animals for the chariot of Artemis Laphria’s priestess at Patrai.23

22
Wide (1901): plate 6 (Aegina); see A. Villing’s contribution to this volume, Chapter 3, fig. 3.4.
Plassart (1928:302) fig. 253 (Delos).
23
Arist. Hist. an. 5.2 (540a). Tame deer: Pliny HN 8.78.211; Paus. 7.18.7. Game parks: Varro Rust. 3.12.
1–2; see Starr (1992:436). The sacrifice of wild animals appears to have been rare among the early
Romans, although various examples are attested in provincial and indigenous contexts. See Schörner
(2005:99–104); (2008:354–60). A votive relief of Roman date showing the sacrifice of a deer before
a group of three goddesses is attested from Brindisi in Apulia (Marzano (1961:29–30 and plate 33)).
Cf. Kastriotes (1903:38–40 and plate 8), but in this case the deer appears to be an attribute of the
goddess.
 Venison for Artemis? 55
In other parts of the Mediterranean world, it appears that deer were
often classed as sacrificial animals. One of the richest sites for deer sacrifice
was discovered during recent excavations in Western Sicily at the indigen-
ous sanctuary of Monte Polizzo. During the sixth century, deer were
regularly dismembered here and some heads and feet were burned on an
altar in Zone A; most other parts were taken away to be eaten elsewhere.
The percentage of deer bones rises as high as 84.4 percent of the total
mammal bones at Zone B of the site, a number that far surpasses any Greek
sanctuary.24 It appears that in this sanctuary, thought to be devoted to an
indigenous goddess who was later identified with Artemis, deer were
actually the primary sacrificial animal, though substantial remains of cattle,
sheep or goats, and pigs were also present. Because the area around the
sanctuary was not heavily wooded in antiquity, Ian Morris et al. suggest
that deer were hunted in the nearby mountains and carried back whole to
the sanctuary.25 One wonders, however, whether it was practical to carry
whole carcasses for miles. Adult red deer vary greatly in weight according to
seasonal and geographic factors, but they are conspecific with the North
American elk and under optimum conditions, stags can reach 600 lbs.
Furthermore, the majority of deer remains at Monte Polizzo were antlers,
and therefore the deposits primarily come from males (67% head/antler,
10% feet, 16% axial, 7% limbs). I think it more likely that the deer were
field dressed and crucial cuts transported to the sanctuary inside the skin,
which retained the head and feet. Thus Monte Polizzo may represent
something of a hybrid between normative alimentary sacrifice and the
hunting ritual in which the skin or antlered head of the animal is presented
to the deity.
The case of Monte Polizzo points to a key question: how exactly does
one go about sacrificing a wild animal? Modern studies of Greek sacrifice,
like that of Folkert van Straten, separate the sacrificial ritual into pre-kill,
kill, and post-kill elements that form a recognizable, temporally unified
sequence and seem inconsistent with a hunt.26 If the moment of the kill
and the processing of the carcass are temporally separated, can we still
speak of sacrifice? Sacrificial ritual in such a case would necessarily differ.
For example, postmortem physiological changes over the period of time
needed to transport a carcass to a sanctuary would make it impossible to
douse the altar with blood, as was often done among the Greeks.
On the other hand, one can argue that sacrifice consists not in the ritual
details of slaughter itself, but in the existence of an alimentary system that is

24 25 26
Morris et al. (2002:92). Morris et al. (2002:59). Van Straten (1988:55).
56 jennifer l arson
embedded in local religious belief and practice. Such a system encompasses
the husbandry and/or selection of animals, their slaughter, the setting aside
of some part of their bodies for the deity, and the disposal of the rest
through some combination of human commensality and deposition in
a sacred place. In different cultures, we find that different parts of this
sequence receive more emphasis and ritual elaboration. Among the Greeks,
there appears to be greater emphasis on the moments leading up to the kill,
but in Mesopotamian systems, for example, more attention is paid to the
presentation of a ritual meal to the gods, while the kill seems far less
significant.27 Systems in which the primary emphasis is placed on feeding
the gods will accommodate the sacrifice of a wild animal more easily than
those in which heavier emphasis is laid on the shedding and ritual manip-
ulation of blood. For example, a scene on a Phoenician bowl found in the
Bernardini tomb shows a Near Eastern or Egyptian noble hunting a stag,
hanging the carcass in a tree, and burning part of the stag on an altar. This
sequence, which is unhesitatingly described as a sacrifice by scholars, lacks
the ritualized kill at the altar which we often consider the sine qua non of
sacrifice.28 To press the point even further, a Hittite stag rhyton produced
for ritual use includes a relief scene of libation to two deities concerned
with hunting. Behind the three men is a sacred tree beneath which they
have deposited either a freshly killed deer, or more likely, the head, feet,
and skin. It is unclear what ritual use, if any, is to be made of the meat.
Considering that the rhyton probably shows the outcome of a ritualized
hunt undertaken for the very purpose of making this offering, should we
categorize it as a votive gift like the skin and antlers dedicated in the
epigrams of the Palatine Anthology, or as a form of sacrifice?29
Other examples make it clear that in Anatolia, the Near East, and even
Egypt, wild cervids and antelopes were kept in sacred parks like that described
by Arrian, and that their sacrifice, if never commonplace, was frequent
enough to call for an explanation. Volkert Haas says that wild animals were
rarely used as sacrificial victims in Hittite religion, but he gives one example of
the sacrifice of a deer and goat to the Heptad of gods at Harranassa, and
records two enclosures of sacred deer attached to cult centers.30 Mesopotamia

27
On Hittite sacrifices in particular, see Mouton in this volume, pp. 239–52 (Chapter 10).
28
Hopkins (1965:24); Markoe (1985: E2, p. 191, 67) (the same sequence is depicted on a bowl from
Kourion: Cy7, p. 177); Osborne (1998:32–5).
29
Muscarella (1974: no. 123); Alp (1988). For ritualized deer hunts in Hittite religion, see Crepon (1981:
147–9); Archi (1988) (offering of skins at the KI.LAM hunting festival for the god Inar/KAL).
30
Haas (1994:587 and n. 316) (deer enclosure at temple in Arinna); 818 (enclosure for the mountain god
Piskurunuwa); 820 (Heptad).
 Venison for Artemis? 57
offers the richest evidence of deer sacrifice, both textual and iconographic. For
example, a deer enclosure attached to a Sumerian temple is attested as early as
Gudea’s time in the third millennium; while an Old Syrian seal (2000–1200
bce) shows a triple offering of deer, gazelle, and hare to a seated divinity.31
The prismatic inscription of Tiglath Pileser I (from the eleventh century),
refers to herds of deer and antelope in the possession of the king. The young
of these animals were offered to the god Assur.32 With regard to west Semitic
peoples, the osteological evidence from the Early Iron Age shrine at Mt. Ebal
in Samaria includes burnt fallow deer antlers along with the remains of goats,
sheep, and cattle. The Punic inscription known as the Marseilles tariff, dating
to the third century bce, includes deer in its prescribed sacrifices to Baal,
along with sheep or goats, cattle, and pigeons.33
Current theories of sacrifice have no power to explain why the sacrifice
of deer and certain other wild ungulates keeps recurring in the record, and
why the evidence for deer is far more common than for any other wild
animal. Are these cases then anomalies, derivative of the sacrifice of
domesticates, and developed in order to cater to the special needs of deities
connected with wild nature? Or could it be instead that the sacrifice of
domesticated animals was the logical extension of a pre-existing, much
older practice, the ritualized harvest of game animals? Now that I have
presented the evidence, I’ll explore its implications in a more speculative
manner.
Deer played a surprisingly significant role in Eurasian economies before
the Neolithic period. Prehistoric hunter-gatherers showed a strong tendency
to specialize in one or two prey species, most often focusing on deer and pig.
Archaeologists agree that the red deer, cervus elaphus, served as the primary
source of meat for Upper Paleolithic and Mesolithic hunters throughout
Europe, while fallow deer and gazelles played a similar role in Anatolia and
the Near East.34 During the Upper Paleolithic, humans began to hunt red
deer and reindeer cooperatively, using techniques of corralling and driving to

31
Black et al. (1998–2006: Gudea Cylinder A and B 1035–1040; Osten Sacken (1994:235–6 (seal), 241
n. 47) (Gudea). For the raising of deer and gazelles in Mari, see Sasson (2004:207).
32
Grayson (1972–6 vol. ii:16–17): “In addition I got control of (and) formed herds of nayalu-deer,
ayalu-deer, gazelles, (and) ibex which the gods Ashur and Ninurta, the gods who love me, had given
me in the course of the hunt in high mountain ranges. I numbered them like flocks of sheep.
I sacrificed yearly to the god Ashur, my lord, the young born to them as voluntary offerings together
with my pure sacrifices.”
33
Mt. Ebal: Zertal (1986–7); L. K. Horwitz (1986–7); Houston (1993:148–56.). Marseilles tariff: Lupu
(2005: Appendix A 391–6).
34
For gazelles, see Garrard (1984).
58 jennifer l arson
achieve mass kills.35 The Magdalenian (12,000 bce) site of El Juyo in
Cantabria, where deer exploitation was particularly intense, offers a unique
perspective on the interplay between red deer harvests and emergent ritual
activity. Here, inside a cave, the people created a complex structure of
mounds, pits, and slabs in which deer played an important symbolic role.
The main pit was layered with red and roe deer body parts, red pigment,
sand, and burnt fill material containing additional bones. Near the center of
this pit, an antler tine was stuck vertically into the red pigment. Before the
whole was covered in a casing of clay plaster, long bones, and stone slabs,
a cache of bone spearpoints was added. A large rock was modified to suggest
a face, which the excavators rather fancifully interpreted as half human and
half feline, and was set up facing the cave entrance and the ritual structure. El
Juyo is a complex site, but this brief description is sufficient to suggest that
ritual activity was closely related to hunting and that body parts from deer
may have been used as offerings to a deity.36
There is no such dramatic cultural evidence from the Mesolithic period
(10,000–5,000 bce), but the prominence of red deer in the diet continued
and increased as the postglacial climate warmed and forests spread. Red
deer bones are found in more than 95 percent of European habitation sites
of the Mesolithic and antlers continued to be a highly valued material for
tools – unequaled in their usefulness until the advent of bronze. The next
most common prey was wild pig, in about 84 percent of sites, but in those
cases where the percentage of remains was calculated, the amount of red
deer bones was about double that of pig bones. The available faunal
evidence for kill patterns, though sparse, no longer indicates the use of
mass kill techniques. Instead, two of the better-studied sites reveal a bias
toward males and immature animals, which could indicate selective hunt-
ing intended to maintain herd numbers.37 With the advent of the
Neolithic period, the proportion of deer bones gradually fell as people
replaced deer meat with that of domesticated animals, though deer
remained a staple in some areas until much later.
Why were deer not permanently domesticated in spite of their long
history of contact with human societies? Unlike caprids and bovids, deer
35
On mass kills of deer in the Paleolithic as an unsustainable practice, see Mithen (1988). While this
form of hunting seems crude, the use of barriers and corralling may have been an important step in
the direction of pastoralism: see the remarks of Thomas F. Kehoe in White et al. (1989:622).
36
Freeman and Echegaray (1981); Freeman, Klein, and González Echegaray (1983). For background on
the cave of El Juyo see Barandiaran, Freeman, González Echegaray, and Klein (1985). On mass
harvesting of deer at El Juyo, see Pokines (1998:152, 154–7).
37
Starr Carr in Britain and Seeberg Bürgaschisee–Süd in Switzerland. See Jarman (1972:131–5). Similar
cropping patterns in the Neolithic and Bronze Age of subalpine Italy: Jarman (1977:526, 535).
 Venison for Artemis? 59
lack the strong dominance hierarchy that eases domestication, their breed-
ing habits make them difficult to control, and they flee when startled rather
than grouping together for protection. On the other hand, individual deer
are easily tamed through an ad hoc process quite distinct from true
domestication. Deer herds adapt well to confinement in game parks and
can easily be habituated to the proximity of humans.38 If full domestication
of deer were practical, it would have been achieved over the tens of
millennia of close contact between deer, especially red deer, and
European populations, during which humans were dependent upon deer
for the majority of the meat they consumed. In the absence of domestica-
tion, however, it is clear that humans and deer evolved an intimate
ecological relationship that ultimately allowed both groups to thrive.
Jarman and like-minded archaeozoologists speak of a spectrum of animal
exploitation strategies that begins with random hunting and extends
through selective culling, herd-following, loose free range (or extensive)
herding, close (or intensive) herding and, finally, factory farming.39
Furthermore, they argue, domestication had a lengthy prehistory in the
long-term association between human populations and their prey animals.
Claims of osteological evidence for such pre-domestication of deer, sheep,
and cattle have been controversial, but there is also general agreement that
extensive herding practices could be nearly archaeologically invisible.40 It is
quite possible that prehistoric humans attempted to domesticate deer and
repeatedly failed to do so, except in the marginal case of reindeer, or that
they formed a relationship with deer that comfortably fits neither our
current understanding of domestication, nor that of hunting.41
With respect to Mediterranean cultures, deer continued to play an
important role in some regions even after the Neolithic transition to
sedentism and agriculture, and there were attempts to manage deer popu-
lations for human benefit. During the Early Neolithic, farmers from
Anatolia transported fallow deer to Cyprus and other Aegean islands
along with some of the first domesticated cattle, goats, and sheep.42
The deer were introduced either as desirable game or as pre-domesticated

38
Clutton Brock (1999).
39
For extensive herding in the Balearic islands as a model for prehistoric husbandry, see Lewthwaite
(1984).
40
The only significant distinction between pre-pastoral hunting and so-called “extensive herding”
may be a social one: there is collective access to “hunted” populations, while “herded” populations
are designated as someone’s property: Ingold (1984:4). For the concept of “protection” as an
intermediate state between predation and domestication, see Harris (1996:448–9).
41
Wilkinson (1972); Jarman, Bailey, and Jarman (1982:58–66).
42
Masseti (2003:54). For Cyprus, see Croft (2003:57); Simmons (2007:229–63, esp. 250).
60 jennifer l arson
herds, and their economic importance continued for millennia afterwards
in Cyprus. Likewise, anomalous patterns of fallow deer populations in
Greek Macedonia during the Neolithic and Bronze Ages led Hubbard to
suggest that they were managed in ranches or parks.43 If we imagine what
the religious implications of the much heavier human dependence on deer
meat might have been during the Upper Paleolithic and Mesolithic, it
seems plausible that rules governing the hunt were embedded in religion.
At least in some areas where deer populations were vulnerable to over-
exploitation, the need to manage game could have resulted in taboos on the
killing of certain deer, such as pregnant females, the institution of sacred
areas where hunting was prohibited, and the ritualization of meat distribu-
tion, including portions of the kill set aside for deities. These features are
consistent with belief in a Master or Mistress of Animals who both supplies
game animals and exacts punishment for killing animals in the wrong place
or time. If Artemis inherited aspects of her personality from such a deity,
this history could illuminate not only her strong mythic and iconographic
ties to deer, but also such phenomena as tame deer kept in sanctuaries,
sanctuaries that served as wildlife refuges, and the sacrifice of deer to the
goddess.44
The offering of deer to Artemis seems to be closely related to her
function as a goddess of hunting. Thus deer sacrifice leads us in the
direction taken by Walter Burkert, who sought the origins of sacrifice in
Paleolithic hunting rituals.45 Whereas Burkert focused primarily on the
role of sacrifice in channeling aggression, I suggest that one possible basis
for Eurasian sacrifice, understood as an alimentary system with ritualized
strictures on how and when animals are killed and processed for food, can
be located in the long human dependence on deer during prehistory and
the need to regulate the supply and distribution of meat, a food whose
symbolic importance and prestige parallel its high nutritional value.
Jonathan Z. Smith’s views imply that there was no prehistory to sacri-
fice; it was an innovation developed during the Neolithic period as a result
of domestication. It is true that the vast majority of animals sacrificed in the
historical period were domesticated, and domestication is obviously
a prerequisite of sacrifice in its developed civic form, if only because it

43
Hubbard (1995). On the relationship between deer management and the appropriation of hunting
to elites, see Vigne (1993).
44
Bailey et al. (1983:77) are skeptical about the ability of Paleolithic humans to cause overkill, based on
data from Epirus. The human–deer relationship would have varied depending on population
density and other local conditions.
45
Burkert (1983:16).
 Venison for Artemis? 61
requires a large, readily available supply of animals. As it brought humans
into a new intimacy with their food animals, domestication surely added to
and radically modified the cultural meanings of sacrifice. Yet human
innovation almost always grows from a substrate, a previous way of
doing things, and Mesolithic peoples may well have developed sacrificial
systems according to the definition I have provided. If they did so, the deer,
as the staple animal in the human food supply, must have been at the center
of any such activity, and would have supplied a model for the subsequent
development of sacrificial systems around true domesticates. In historical
times when the economic importance of deer was vastly reduced, they
became marginal within most systems, though there is evidence that the
high prestige value of hunting led to the retention of hunting rituals among
elites, especially in the Bronze Age and in areas where kingship lingered as
an institution.
I must re-emphasize that these musings are highly speculative and
difficult (though not impossible) to either support or falsify empirically.
Since that is the case, what does this theory have to offer for the study of
Greek sacrifice in the historical period, beyond a minor extension to the
checklist of sacrificial animals and a challenge to the rigidity of the
structuralist formulation? For me, it suggests that we need to combine
the structuralist emphasis on alimentary codes with a focus on the eco-
nomic aspects of sacrifice and the ways in which religious practices may
have supported or subverted the principles of sound animal husbandry.
In his important article on sacrifice and animal husbandry in Classical
Greece, Michael Jameson shows that the sacrifices in the Attic deme
calendars correlate with the seasonal availability of victims and the need
of farmers to maintain or increase their herds through selective culling.46
We are used to the idea that the species, number, color, age, and sex of
sacrificial victims are dictated wholly by the deity and the nature of the
local cult, but the reverse must also be the case: the realities of animal
husbandry must be driving sacrificial systems, including festival calendars,
to a much greater extent than we have acknowledged. The sacralization of
meat consumption is closely related to the status of meat as a highly valued
and limited resource, and may function in part to regulate the use of that
resource, with respect to harvesting as well as distribution. The idea that
sacrificial practices are closely related to local economies or ecosystems and
contribute to their self-regulation is not new, but was proposed by Roy
Rappaport in his famous study of the Maring people of New Guinea, Pigs

46
Jameson (1988a:103).
62 jennifer l arson
for the Ancestors.47 I should add that I am not advocating pure economic
functionalism, for the belief systems surrounding sacrifice often interfere
with the maximization of efficiency in food production. The occasional
sacrifice of pregnant animals is a case in point, as is holocaust sacrifice.48
Walter Burkert’s influential reading of sacrifice placed a great deal of
emphasis on the ritual surrounding the moment of slaughter: the proces-
sion to the altar, the comedy of innocence, and so on. The work of Vernant
and Detienne broadened our perspective to include the butchering and
cooking stages, and to show how sacrificial commensality intersects with
gender and socio-political status. Archaeologists and faunal specialists tell
us that there is substantial variation in the way the products of sacrificial
rites are processed and deposited, an aspect of sacrificial systems that calls
for further study. I have just argued that we also need to turn our attention
to the pre-kill stages and the factors surrounding the husbandry and
selection of sacrificial animals. Our best path to understanding sacrifice
lies in approaching it not as a discrete event but as a system, one that was
fully integrated with the animal husbandry practices of the Greeks.

47
Rappaport (1984:224–42). We still have much to learn about the evolution of self-regulating systems
in cultural contexts; they seem to be subject to both Darwinian and non-Darwinian modes of
change.
48
The sacrifice of pregnant animals is secondary to agriculture, because most such sacrifices are offered
to Ge or Demeter. See van Straten (1995:26, note 41).
 chapter 3

Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg?

Some Thoughts on Bird Sacrifices in Ancient Greece
Alexandra Villing

Introduction
Sokrates’ famous last words, ‘Krito, I owe a cock to Asklepios; will you
remember to pay the debt?’, as reported in Plato’s Phaidon (117e–18a), have
long occupied scholars trying to understand the reason for the ‘debt’, but
the choice of sacrificial animal has equally surprised. Cattle, sheep, goats
and pigs are well known as the main animals offered in Greek sacrificial
rites – but why a bird? Sokrates’ rooster, however, is not altogether unique.
Other famous figures of antiquity, too, sacrificed birds: when in the second
century ad Aelius Aristeides in search of a cure for his ailments comes to
Smyrna and visits the warm baths, the goddess Isis herself intervenes and
orders him to sacrifice two geese to her (Sacred Tales 3.45).
What do we know about birds as sacrificial animals? A hundred years
ago, Stengel in his 1910 publication1 on the sacrificial customs of the Greeks
devoted a fair number of pages to the discussion of birds, game and fish as
sacrificial animals, but the modern scholarly discourse of ancient Greek
sacrifice rarely mentions, let alone engages with, sacrificial animals beyond
the ‘traditional’ quartet of domesticated cloven-hoofed mammals.2 This is

* I am grateful to the editors for the invitation to contribute to this volume, and to them and the
editorial team of Cambridge University Press for their support throughout the volume’s production.
The manuscript was largely completed in 2012, and later literature could only be considered to
a limited extent.
1
Stengel (1910); for birds, cf. also the note by Wolff (1869).
2
Detienne and Vernant briefly address the topic of fish sacrifice (Detienne and Vernant 1989:127–8,
221 n. 8, 266; cf. also ibid. 265–6 on deer sacrifice) but do not engage at all with bird sacrifices; Burkert
(1985:55) notes that ‘the sacrifice of poultry is also common, but other birds – geese, pigeons – to say
nothing of fish, are rare’, but only occasionally refers in passing to individual instances of such
sacrifices; and Parker, too, while counting domestic fowl among the ‘big five’ of species to be
sacrificed Parker (2010c:138), abstains from any further investigation. A full range of sacrificial
animals is included in the survey by Kadletz (1976). The only recent studies of bird sacrifices to
my knowledge are Stafford (2008), who discusses cock sacrifices to Asklepios, and Zografou (2011),
on bird sacrifices especially in magical papyri, and Brun and Leguilloux (2013), with special reference
to Delos. For fish sacrifices, see Lefèvre-Novaro (2010); Mylona (2015).

63
64 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
even though not just written sources but also recent osteological evidence3
confirm that Greek sacrificial customs and feasting were more colourful
and wide-ranging.4 This menagerie on the fringes of ‘typical’ Greek
sacrifice is neglected at peril: it is here that light is shed on areas beyond
large-scale civic ritual of the landed polis, that the dichotomy of domes-
ticated and wild, ‘Greek’ and ‘foreign’, and the relationship between
sacrificer, animal and deity can be interrogated from a fresh perspective
in a broader social and economic context.
For deer and other animals the balance is redressed elsewhere in the
present volume (see the chapters by Larson (Chapter 2) and Ekroth
(Chapter 1)); the aim of this contribution is to put birds back into the
frame – or rather, onto the altar. Considering the main species of bird
sacrificed in Greece, notably the cockerel and goose, I will argue that these
birds became incorporated in the sacrificial repertory following their wide-
spread domestication and inclusion into Greek culture and cuisine,
a development especially of the fifth century bc that affected different
birds in different ways. Nonetheless, birds always remained on the fringes,
retaining a special position in both Greek alimentary and religious beha-
viour. As will become clear, their sacrifice is often linked to certain kinds of
dedicants, occasions and divine personalities, a specificity that is far more
prominent here than in the bovine-ovicaprine-suine majority of sacrificial
animals5 and that is determined as much by semantic notions relating to an
animal’s appearance, behaviour and habitat as by the social and economic
circumstances of its sacrifice.

A Cock for Asklepios: Heroic Meals on the Cheap?

The starting point for the investigation is two listings of sacrificial animals.
The first concerns ancient Athens and has come down to us in several late
lexicographers and paroemiographers, including Souidas and Zenobios.6
In addition to the quartet of ox, sheep, goat and pig, this list enumerates
also the chicken (ornis)7 and the goose – and in one version also the duck.

3
See e.g. Ekroth (2007); cf. also Dalby (2003:114). Minunno (2013:113–14) points to offerings of quails
to Herakles-Melqart.
4
As also highlighted by Georgoudi (2010a), who questions the validity of hitherto prevalent notions of
‘typical’ sacrifice that do not take sufficient account of the ‘poikilia’ of Greek sacrificial customs.
5
Cf. Graf (2002:118–19), who also highlights the semantic significance of factors such as the species,
colour and gender of sacrificial animals.
6
Discussed in detail by Stengel (1910:225–33) and Wolff (1869:189–90); cf. also Olck (1910:711).
7
The term ornis and its interpretation is unfortunately not straightforward: while denoting birds in
general, it appears to refer specifically to chickens, notably hens, especially in post-Classical Attic
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 65
Lacking a proper context and date, the passage is, of course, problematic
as evidence;8 however, chicken (ornithes) are also included in a second,
earlier, list of sacrificial animals recorded by Theophrastos (ap. Porph. Abst.
II 25), where they feature alongside oxen, sheep/goats, pigs and – interest-
ingly – deer.
That birds, and notably chickens and geese, are to be taken seriously as
sacrificial animals is supported also by other sources. From these it appears
that chickens were the most common among sacrificed birds in ancient
Greece, even if they make their appearance as sacrificial animals only
relatively late. The sacrifice of cocks to Asklepios – recently surveyed by
Emma Stafford – is attested from the late fifth/early fourth centuries bc
onwards, in Classical Athens and elsewhere.9 Most famously, the evidence
includes Sokrates’ purported last words, mentioned above, in which he
instructs Krito to sacrifice a cockerel to Asklepios (Pl. Phd. 117e–18a), as
well as Herodas’ The Women Sacrificing to Asklepios, written about 270 bc.
Here, women offer a thysia of a cock (alektor) to Asklepios at Kos as thanks
for a cure, the modest choice of animal being explained by the dedicants’
slender means.10 A decree from Epidauros dating to c. 400 bc mentions
kalaidia (a term usually taken to refer to chickens11) being offered by the
Epidaurians on the altars of Asklepios and Apollo; a first century bc
inscription from Kos notes that the priest of Asklepios is owed an obol
and a leg from every chicken (ornis) sacrificed (Herodas’ women, too, give
a leg of the cockerel to their priest); a fragmentary fourth century bc
sacrificial regulation from Oropos refers to chicken (ornis) sacrifices in
another healing sanctuary; the Amphiareion, again with an obol to be paid
for every bird sacrificed, while the newly found mid second century bc
religious inscription from a sanctuary of Artemis Phylake (quite possibly
a cult of Near Eastern origin) near Thessalian Larissa prescribes sacrifices of
male, female as well as young chicken (alektor) for the purposes of purifica-
tion and on the altar of Moira, with an obol to be paid for every bird and

Greek; the problematic and changing meaning of ornis and alektryon/alektor is addressed already in
Athenaios 9.373a (quoting Myrtilos) and would deserve a thorough re-assessment; cf. also LSJ s.v.;
Thompson (1895:20); Cobianchi (1936:92–3); Decourt and Tziaphalias (2015:39).
8
It certainly is hardly sufficient justification for counting geese among the ‘six classic sacrificial
animals’, as is done by Hünemörder (1998:780): ‘Die Gans war eines der sechs klassischen
Opfertiere.’
9
Stafford (2008).
10
Cf. Kearns (2010:199–204); A. Hermary, in ThesCRA I (2004), 76; Edelstein and Edelstein (1945:296
no. T 523–31); cf. also Aelian HV 5.17; Stafford (2008:211–12).
11
Cf. Fraenkel (1913:33–5).
66 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
the legs and innards to be left behind on the offering table, and with
chicken sacrifices expressly forbidden for the sanctuary’s main altar.12
Other heroes, gods and goddesses, too, could receive chicken sacrifices:
Herakles, together with Thios, received two roosters (alektoras) in first-
century ad Athens, and in his sanctuary, shared with Hebe, cocks and hens
were apparently kept and fed at public expense in the third century bc.13
Plutarch (Quaest. conv. 6.10.1) refers to a cock that has just been sacrificed
to Herakles being brought to table at the symposion. Sanctuary fowl yards
are also mentioned by Aristotle (Hist. an. 9.614a7), who discusses the social
behaviour of domestic cocks (cocks only, not hens) presented to temples as
offerings. Hermes and Dionysos, too, may have been recipients: an Attic
red-figure bell-krater of the early fourth century bc (Fig. 3.1) – to my
knowledge the only potential allusion to a cock sacrifice in Attic vase-
painting – shows a cock being carried in a procession towards a herm; the
procession includes a satyr and is of distinctly Dionysiac character.14
Chicken sacrifices had been erroneously reconstructed in Hellenistic
inscriptions relating to Aphrodite and Adrasteia and Nemesis,15 though

12
IG IV2 40 and 41 = LSCG 60 (cf. Kadletz (1976:82 no. 73); Stafford (2008:219)); Parker and Obbink
(2001:237–43) no. 4A, figs. 4–5 (cf. Stafford (2008:212)); Lupu, NGSL 9. Edelmann (1999:195 no.
B 70) also cites a votive relief of the second half of the fourth century bc in London (British Museum
GR 1816,0610.361 (Sculpture 792)) as showing a cock being presented to Asklepios (and Hygieia?) by
a male worshipper, but the very worn representation hardly allows a precise identification of the
animal. For the inscription found at Marmarini near Larissa, see Decourt and Tziaphalias (2015:
18–19 lines B2–3, 14, 30–1, 54–5, 74–5; cf. also lines B75–7 on chicken or other eggs being prohibited
when sacrificing a hen on the altar of Moira). The reference to purificatory bird (ornis) sacrifices
probably also relates to chicken: ibid. lines 22–3 and 25, with the discussion on p. 39.
13
Cock sacrifice, Athenian calendar of the first century ad: IG II2 1367 = LSCG 52; cf. Kadletz (1976:
149–59). Cf. also the capon sacrifice to Hercules in a Roman inscription from Aziz Ben Tellis in
Algeria: CIL VIII, 8247. Chicken in the sanctuary of Herakles and Hebe are mentioned by Aelian
NA 17.46, citing Mnaseas fr. 11 Müller. Note also that in Roman times chicken appear to have been
kept on Delos and castrated to be fattened as capons: cf. Bruneau (1985:547–9); cf. also Dalby
(2003:114).
14
Ferrara, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, inv. 8149: A. Hermary, in ThesCRA I (2004) 86 no. 198;
G. Siebert, in LIMC V (1990) 303 Hermes 131bis. The only possible parallel to this piece is doubtful:
in a sacrificial scene on a late-sixth-century bc Athenian column-krater (British Museum GR
1837,0609.38 [Vase B362]), Böhr (2015:21) identified a duck underneath the sacrificial table awaiting
sacrifice before a herm, but the rendering is unclear and an interpretation as the head of a larger
sacrificial animal such as a bull (Gebauer (2002: 298–9 no. Z3, 736 fig. 166) is a more convincing
alternative. We may remember in this context also the fourth century bc Boiotian terracotta busts
that show a male figure (Dionysos?) holding a cock and egg: e.g. Higgins (1967:79), pl. C; cf. also
C. Gasparri, in LIMC III (1986) 428–9 Dionysos 56–61. The cockerel being offered to (or held by)
Persephone on fifth-century bc Locrian reliefs has been interpreted primarily as symbolic of male
sexuality by Sourvinou-Inwood (1978:108–9). For geese in a Dionysiac context, see Schauenburg
(2005:53) with n. 669, fig. 132.
15
LSCG no. 172; cf. Kadletz (1976:110–11) with IG 12.3.303; LSCG 161.
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 67

Fig. 3.1. Attic red-figure bell krater, early fourth century bc, depicting a Dionysiac
procession to a herm. Ferrara, Museo Archeologico Nazionale, inv. 8149.
Photograph © Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali.

birds were sacrificed to Aphrodite Pandemos and Pontia there in the late
second century bc.16 Also an inscription from second century bc Mytilene on
Lesbos17 allows the sacrifice of at least some sorts of bird to Aphrodite and
Hermes. According to Plutarch (Inst. Lacon. 238 f and Ages. 33.4), cocks were
also sacrificed by the Spartans to Ares as deliberately low-key victory
offerings.18
Osteological evidence seems to confirm that chickens were indeed sacri-
ficed and could form part of sacrificial meals in a range of cults: unburnt
chicken bones – though mostly only in small or very small numbers – were
found in the Theban Kabeirion (Classical, Hellenistic and Roman levels),
the sanctuary of Artemis and Apollo at Kalapodi (Hellenistic to Byzantine),
the Ephesian Artemision and the sanctuaries of Demeter at Cyrene (Archaic-
Hellenistic), Selinus (possibly) as well as Mytilene. In the latter sanctuary,
they dominate the finds of Classical to Hellenistic bird bones (making up
5 per cent of the bone assemblage), which also include geese, quail,
16
IG 12.4.319. A Roman inscription from Koudiet Es-Souda (Tunisia) records the sacrifice of a cock to
Caelestis and a hen to Venus: Poinssot (1913).
17
LSCG no. 126, cf. also Kadletz (1976:110–11).
18
Cf. Csapo (1993:10), for the cock’s ‘martial’ connotations and link with Ares.
68 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
partridges, pigeons/doves and teal, all unburnt.19 Judging from the find
contexts, chickens must have been consumed as part of feasts in at least
some of these sanctuaries; they also appear to have been consumed (or
offered) at least on occasion in connection with funeral cults, as is suggested
particularly by the find of chicken bones at the Mauseoleum at Halikarnassos
and by an inscription probably related to a Lycian tomb mentioning the
sacrifice (thysia) of cocks and hens.20
The evidence thus attests chicken sacrifices from at least 400 bc, often in
the shape of private, small-scale and relatively cheap offerings – an impres-
sion that is further supported by Aelian (NA 5.28), who describes a master
of the house sacrificing a cock (alektryon) in a thysia and making a feast for
his household.21 The main recipients are Asklepios and other male healing
deities and/or heroes,22 but also some female deities (Demeter, Aphrodite).
Remarkable also is the nature of the sacrificial rites: in some cases, notably
relating to Asklepios, it is made explicit that the sacrifices, though small, are
alimentary, with a portion reserved for the priest. They were thus on a par
with other animal thysiai, even if some elements of the ritual clearly must
have been different – for one, no tail could be easily burnt on the altar, but
19
Thebes, Kalapodi, Ephesos, Cyrene: Reese (2000b:566). Though only few chicken bones were
found at Cyrene, there are many bronze figurines of cocks from the sanctuary: Schaus (1985:xxviii).
Mytilene: Ruscillo (1993:201–10, esp. 206–7). The osteological evidence for chicken bones in
Demeter sanctuaries seems to conflict with Porphyrios (Abst. 4.16), who described cocks as sacred
to Demeter and therefore not eaten by the initiates at Eleusis; cf. also the prohibition against
including domestic fowl in dining at the Haloa, mentioned by a scholiast to Lucian, Dial. meret.
The osteological finds from Kalapodi and the Kabeirion also include some bones of doves and
other birds (Reese 2000b:568–9), though not in all cases do bone finds have to imply that these
animals were necessarily eaten by the worshipping community (cf. also Ekroth, Chapter 1 in this
volume, on different possible interpretations of the osteological evidence). One may even wonder if
chickens might not, on occasion, have been thrown into pits just as small piglets were in the
thesmophoric ritual.
20
Inscription at Bel in Lycia: Ormerod and Robinson (1914:5–7) no. 10. Decapitated hens and cocks,
as well as chicken eggs and pigeons, form part of the sacrificial deposit at the entrance to the tomb
chamber of the Mausoleum at Halikarnassos (Højlund 1983). Chicken bones and eggs are occa-
sionally found in burials across Greece and Cyprus (Robinson 1942:192–4; Reese 2000b:566–7),
certainly from the fifth century bc onwards. Overall, however, chickens do not seem to be any more
frequent than other sacrificial animals in tomb cult: osteological evidence suggests that birds, hares,
goats, lambs, pigs, cattle and various other species could be sacrificed to the dead, both at normal
graves and at hero shrines: Kurtz and Boardman (1971:66). Boehringer (2001:311–18) lists a variety of
different animal bones found in connection with hero cults in Messenia, including bovines, sheep,
pigs and goats but also horses, dogs, cats, deer, boars, foxes, badgers, hares and birds. A cock
(apparently as an offering) is also being carried by the worshippers on the hero relief from
Chrysapha: Blümel (1940:22, pl. 22). For a gravestone from Pydna featuring a cock, dated to
about 420 bc, see Moreno (2007).
21
Otherwise chickens (or other birds), however, do not appear to be specifically associated with
domestic cults.
22
Cf. also Plutarch’s mention of a white cock being sacrificed by Pyrrhus as a part of a healing ritual:
Plut. Pyrrh. 3.4. On (white) cocks in magical rituals, see also below, n. 29.
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 69
perhaps some feathers or meat were used in its stead, along the lines
suggested by Ekroth (in the present volume) for other ‘unusual’ sacrificial
animals. Yet we also know from a group of other sources that thysiai were
not the only option for chicken sacrifices. Pausanias (2.11.7) reports that
birds were burned on the altar as part of the holocaustic sacrifices at Roman
Titane near Sikyon, again in connection with the cult of Asklepios.23 While
it has been noted in recent scholarship that the particular penchant for
holocaustic sacrifices in Roman Greece does not necessarily have to reflect
earlier traditions, epigraphic and osteological evidence confirms that holo-
caustic sacrifices of poultry took place at least from the second century bc.
They feature particularly in cults of heroes and gods (often of foreign
origin) connected with death and the underworld – divinities for whom, as
Ekroth has argued, high intensity sacrifices were particularly fitting, as
commensality with such deities was problematic for humans.24 For exam-
ple, as is set out in detail by Siard and by Brun and Legouilloux,25
holocaustic sacrifices of chickens are attested prominently in
the second–first century bc Sarapieion C on Delos, the sanctuary of
Sarapis and Isis. Here, up to 90 per cent of the bones from two altars area
belong to chickens that were burnt whole, while the remainder are bones of
mammals (sheep, pigs and goats) of which only portions had been burnt as
part of a regular thysia.
Dedications to Isis-Hygieia and Asklepios suggest that the cult in the
Delian Sarapieion had a medical element, and Siard in her analysis pro-
poses that the chicken offerings may have been made in thanks for (or in
hope of) a cure.26 Yet it seems that cock (and other bird) sacrifices were also
more generally associated with Egyptian cults related to the underworld
and afterlife in the Hellenistic and Roman periods. An early second
century bc inscription from Priene stipulates that young chickens/birds
(nossōn) be offered in the cult of Isis, Sarapis and Apis, adding that the
priests are to provide an Egyptian who will help perform the sacrifice
expertly.27 Burnt chicken bones are attested in several Roman sanctuaries
of Isis.28 Epigraphic and literary sources, notably in Roman times, refer to

23
In addition to the holocaust of a bull, a lamb and a pig on the ground; on this passage, see Stafford
(2008:217–18); Pirenne-Delforge (2008:192–7). Cf. also the cult of Eileithya at Messene, for which
Pausanias (4.31.9) reports that ‘all kinds of animals were burnt as offerings together. They begin with
cattle and goats, and they end up by throwing birds in the fire’; on this passage, cf. Pirenne-Delforge
(2008:220–1).
24
Ekroth (2002:307); Ekroth (2008b:89–92); Pirenne-Delforge (2006; 2008).
25
Siard (2008); Brun and Leguilloux (2013). 26 Siard (2008). 27
LSAM 36.
28
Brun and Leguilloux (2013:175–6); Lepetz and van Andringa (2008a:47), who also note that bones of
cocks are attested in (provincial) Roman sanctuaries of Mithras and Mercury.
70 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
cock sacrifices, probably holocaustic, for Nephthys and Osiris as well as for
Anubis, to whom a white or yellow cock was sacrificed; in the region of
Larissa a Hellenistic religious inscription specifies the sacrifice of white
cocks to Men and white hens to Artemis Phylake.29 In magical papyri the
white (but not black) cock is the sacrificial animal of choice, its destruction
in an enagismos providing the gods with the animal’s ‘breath of life’.30
Other birds, too, (including the wren, pigeon and goose) could be sacri-
ficed in the same manner, as well as occasionally wild donkeys or piglets.31
Occasional instances of chicken sacrifices are attested in connection with
tomb cults,32 and an enigmatic reference – if correctly read – in the fourth
century bc Derveni papyrus (col. 2, cf. col. 6) to the possible sacrifice of
‘something like an ornis’ in connection with the Erinyes and funeral
libations would not seem out of place in such a context.33 Roman-period
Bacchic sarcophagi and altars that represent cocks being thrown on the
blazing altar (Fig. 3.2)34 as well as sacrifices to Kore and Demeter/Ceres
confirm a Dionysiac or ‘chthonic’ dimension of holocaustic cock-sacrifices
and recall the Dionysiac procession mentioned earlier (above, Fig. 3.1),35

29
Nephthys and Osiris: IG III 77 = LSCG no. 52; quoted and discussed by Stengel (1910:166–7).
Anubis: Plut., De Is. 60. Men and Artemis Phylake (second century bc): Decourt and Tziaphalias
(2015, 19 lines B24–5, cf. also lines B31–2, and the discussion on p. 27). A votive relief of the second
half of the fourth century bc to Men features two roosters as the god’s attributes: Boston, Museum
of Fine Arts, inv. 1972.78: Edelmann (1999:153, 221 no. G19). In Egypt itself, chickens were
consumed particularly at festivals, certainly in Roman times; in the Ptolemaic period, they are less
frequently attested, not least presumably on account of them being relative newcomers to the
country: Drexhage (2001a); Cobianchi (1936:139–47). Cf. also a white hen as an offering to the
Nymphs (Alkiphron, Letters 4.13) and a cock to Night (Ovid, Fasti 455–6), a custom explained by
Ovid as a punishment for the rooster announcing the sunrise. A first-century inscription from
Rhodes mentions the sacrifice of bovines, other quadrupeds and a rooster in the adyton of an
unspecified sanctuary, although in neither case do we know if the sacrifice was alimentary or an
enagismos: LSS no. 108. A ritual at Roman Methana involved a white cock being cut in two pieces
and carried around the vines before being buried, an action supposedly aimed at protecting
vineyards from strong winds (Paus. 2.34.2). On the use of pure, perfect and white birds in ‘magical’
sacrifices, see also Zografou (2011:150–1).
30
As set out recently by Zografou (2008:193–5).
31
Zografou (2008:190); cf. also Zografou (2011:152) 32 See above n. 20.
33
Betegh (2004:77–8).
34
London, British Museum GR 1805,0703.206 (Sculpture 2489); the altar was dedicated to Diana by
Aurelius Thimoteus and the reliefs on the other sides revolve around Dionysiac topics.
35
Stengel (1910:142, 150, 166–8); Matz (1963:44–52); Jucker (1980:468–9). Chicken sacrifices were
known also in the Punic world, as a bird sacrifice (alongside deer sacrifice) is mentioned in a third
century bc Punic inscription from Carthage, the ‘Marseille tariff’: Lupu, NGSL pp. 391–6; cf. also
Larson in this volume (Chapter 2), and the wider discussion of bird sacrifices in the Phoenician and
Punic world by Minunno (2013:109–19). Chicken sacrifices at Punic Carthage are also mentioned by
Reese (2000b: 567).
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 71

Fig. 3.2. Roman marble altar, late second–third century ad, depicting a cockerel
sacrifice to a priapic herm. London, British Museum GR 1805,0703.206 (Sculpture
2489). Photograph © Trustees of the British Museum.

while burnt chicken bones in the Roman layers of Poseidon’s sanctuary at

Isthmia hint at a wider possible circle of recipients.36
Zografou37 has recently argued that the prominent role of birds in magic
and apotropaic rites may stem from their role in divination, as messengers
of the gods and embodiments of the soul; yet she also follows Cumont by
explaining the preferred position of the cock with its Persian-derived
association with the sun, apotropaic functions and role as a guide of
souls to the underworld.38 Suggestions of cross-cultural transmission,
however, need to be assessed with caution; a link with sunrise would
have been rather evident to any Greek with a cockerel in the yard even
without explicit reference to Zoroastrian ideas.39 Still, symbolic connota-
tions undoubtedly played an important role in the choice of chickens for
sacrifices. Chickens were latecomers to Greece and are likely to have
retained a special meaning on that account, having been known as an

36
From a Roman ash pit dated after ad 160 (lot 80–33); cf. Reese (2000b:560–70).
37
Zografou (2008; 2011). 38 Cumont (1942); cf. also Bodson (1978:99–100).
39
As Csapo reminds us, constructions of meaning are ultimately based on nature even if they
transcend it in culturally specific ways: Csapo (1993:123–4). Cf. also Graf (2002:115), on this topic.
72 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
exotic animal long before they were introduced as a domesticated species to
Greece from their original habitat in Southeast Asia via the Near East.
From the seventh/sixth centuries bc they developed into a common Greek
barnyard fowl, kept primarily for fighting and, presumably, for eggs.40
The role they were subsequently accorded in Greek daily life also shaped
their function as sacrificial animal. Their reputation for virility, aggression
and salaciousness, their use in cock-fights and their popularity as
a homoerotic love gift and as supreme symbol of the ancient Athenian
agon not only associated them with the sphere of the young man’s life and
with war-like pursuits, but also made them highly appropriate as gifts for
male heroes such as Herakles.41 As newcomers to the Greek farmyard, they
were sacrificed most prominently to a newcomer to the Greek pantheon,
Asklepios – he, too, a hero-god.
In addition to the semantic realm, practical economic considerations
presumably also played a role in cock sacrifices. Small, domestic and cheap,
chickens made convenient sacrificial animals for individual offerings.42
Their use as such in a period – the fifth century bc – when they had
become a common domestic fowl and acquired at least a modest place in
Greek cuisine,43 conforms neatly with the notion of sacrifices of domes-
ticated animals as embedded in local cultural, alimentary and economic
systems. It is worth noting in this context that also ancient Southeast and

40
Even though Blench and MacDonald (2000:497) and Nadeau (2016) point to osteological evidence
dating back to the third millennium bc, the wider spread of the chicken in Greece must date to
much later periods; cf. also Grabow (2015); Lamberton and Rotroff (1985:6–7). Cocks are men-
tioned in Greek literature since the late seventh/sixth century bc and represented in Greek art since
the seventh century bc. Hens’ eggshells are attested at eighth century bc Kommos on Crete, though
we need to remember that this was in part a Phoenician entrepôt: Reese (2000b:566).
41
As set out in detail by Csapo (1993); for the erotic connotations of cocks see also recently Spier
(2010). By contrast, the reference in Aristophanes’ Birds 707 to quail, moorhen [porphyrion], goose
and capon as gifts with which a man might seduce a boy is surely a jibe at the luxurious lifestyle, as
most of these birds represent the exact opposite of the virility and fighting spirit that the cock
connotes. Zografou cites characteristics such as the cock’s aggressive sexuality and also other birds’
associations with sexuality and fertility, as well as economic considerations, as playing a role in
certain birds’ choice as sacrificial animals, but emphasises solar connotations, as well as
a fundamental affinity between winged deities and birds, as reasons for bird sacrifices to (solar)
Eros: Zografou (2011:158–60).
42
On the economic value of sacrificial animals and its importance, see e.g. van Straten (1995:170–81).
The perception of relative cheapness of bird sacrifices seems to have carried over into Christian
times: a twelfth century ad ecclesiastical document of Byzantine Macedonia (quoted by Detienne
and Vernant 1989:195) names a pigeon or fowl from the barnyard as appropriate gifts for the priest
from those unable to afford an ox.
43
Cf. e.g. Arist. Eth. Nic. 6.7: ‘for if a man knew that light meats are digestible and wholesome, but did
not know which sorts of meat are light, he would not produce health, but the man who knows that
chicken is wholesome is more likely to produce health’. On the incorporation of chicken into the
Greek diet, see also Wilkins and Hill (2006:12–14, 150–1).
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 73
East Asia chickens were not primarily valued for their meat or eggs, but
bred for fighting and ritual purposes.44
Still, there is no indication that chickens ever developed into a universal
every-day personal sacrificial animal; rather, they remained associated with
certain cults in particular: thysiai in hero and especially healing cults, and,
increasingly, high-intensity (holocaustic) sacrifices in Hellenistic and
Roman cults of foreign (Egyptian) deities and ‘magical’ rites. Both strange
and familiar, chickens were prone to fulfil special functions in ancient
Greek sacrifice.

Aphrodite and Her Birds: Of Doves and Partridges

With their Eastern origin and martial and erotic associations chickens may
be a special case in the world of Greek birds, but some of the same patterns
also apply to other birds. Here we move into largely uncharted territory –
evidence for other bird sacrifices is less prolific than that for chickens, and
the few extant scholarly treatments are mostly outdated. The problems this
brings with it become apparent already in the first example that I want to
consider in this context: bird sacrifices for Aphrodite, and the associated
question of sacrificial/sacred/consecrated animals and flocks.
The issue of bird sacrifices for Aphrodite has already been touched upon
above, when we noticed inscriptions referring to sacrifices of birds, which
were practised on second century bc Kos and Mytilene. A passage by the
sixth century ad writer John the Lydian adds two further birds to the
equation:45 goose and partridge (perdix), which he claims were sacrificed to
Aphrodite, albeit without specifying when and where. He then goes on to
explain geese as appropriate sacrificial animals for the sea-goddess
Aphrodite because of their liking for water, and partridges because of
their alluring voices. The passage thus underlines the notion of a specific
relation between ‘victim’ and deity, based on birds’ ‘personalities’; we will
have occasion to further explore its significance in this respect later.
An association of waterbirds or songbirds with Aphrodite (and in gen-
eral with the female world) is known also from other contexts, applying
especially to doves.46 In sixth century bc Ionia we find Aphrodite, as well as
other goddesses, receiving offerings in the shape of female votive statues

44
Blench and MacDonald (2000); Stadelmann (2000:500).
45
Lydus, Mens. 4.44, quoted e.g. in Wolff (1869:191).
46
Cf. Villing (2008) with further references. For Aphrodite’s connection with doves, see especially the
dove representations in Aphrodite’s sanctuaries on the slopes of the Athenian Acropolis and at
Daphni in Attica: Rosenzweig (2004: 14 with figs. 2–3, 41 with fig. 30). Cf. also Kadletz (1976:274–5).
74 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
and figurines carrying birds (doves and partridges), such as the kore with
a partridge perhaps offered to Artemis at Miletos.47 But do we have to
imagine these birds as inviolate hiera zoa or sacred ‘pets’, or as sacrificial
animals? Given that the animals carried by Archaic kouroi include cattle,
sheep and goats – i.e. typical sacrificial animals – the animals carried by
korai (birds and hares) could be sacrificial, too, although hares in particular
are typical love gifts and unlikely sacrificial animals. Apart from such
general considerations there is, however, little evidence to help us answer
the question. Most explicit is an inscription dating to 287/6 bc that records
a purificatory dove sacrifice for Aphrodite Pandemos at Athens.48 Dove
(columba) sacrifices to Venus are also suggested by the Roman writers
Propertius (4.5.65–6) and especially Ovid (Fasti 1.451–2),49 who talks of
white doves being burned upon altars at Cypriot Idalion.50 In some places
(such as Aphrodisias and Eryx on Sicily), doves were explicitly designated
as sacred to Aphrodite,51 but we have no evidence as to whether sacrifices
were allowed or not. There is, however, an intriguing, partially preserved,
Hellenistic inscription from Morgantina relating to a local sanctuary of an
unspecified deity that may be of relevance. If the proposed reading is
correct, the inscription records that deer, quails, doves, rock doves, as
well as perhaps chickens and turtle doves or larks, were raised in the
sanctuary; it sets out explicitly that the birds were not allowed to be
sacrificed.52 Sanctuary doves (as well as partridges) are also recorded for
another sanctuary on Delos, where inscriptions attest that the sale of both
doves and their guano provided an income for the sanctuary. Servius states
that doves were inviolate here (‘Deli columbas violare nefas est’), but since
an inscription of the year 250 bc does refer to a dove sacrifice, this rule may

47
For the terracotta figurines, see Higgins (1967:35); Klinger (2015). The kore from Miletos is Berlin,
Antikensammlung SMB Inv. Sk. 1577. On partridges, see also Kauffmann-Samaras (2003).
48
IG II2 659 = LSCG 39; cf. Kadletz (1976:110–11); Rosenzweig (2004:16, 62).
49
On this passage, see Prescendi (2007:209).
50
Note in this context also the observation by Reese (2000b:567) of burned dove bones in the Western
necropolis of Amathous on Cyprus, identified as a possible tophet site; bird bones in tophets are also
noted by Minunno (2013:109–19).
51
LSAM 86 (77 ad); Ael. HV I.15 and NA 4.2; Athen. 394f; cf. also Pollard (1977:146); Bodson
(1978:99). Coins of the city show the goddess seated with a dove from the late fifth century bc
onwards.
52
Manganaro (1999:57–60); cf. also Larson, this volume (Chapter 2). The only animal that is
mentioned in a possible sacrificial context in the inscription is a ram. Quails are, however, explicitly
listed among birds that can be offered in individual holocaustic sacrifices in an Artemis sanctuary
(with strong non-Greek elements) near Larissa: Decourt and Tziaphalias (2015, p. 20, lines B70–74).
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 75
not have applied at all times. The sacred calendar from the area of Larissa,
finally, expressly forbids the sacrifice of fish and doves to Pan.53
That the complex relationship between animal and deity could in
principle encompass protection and killing at the same time is argued
elsewhere in the present volume with regard to deer. As Jennifer Larson
sets out, sacred deer herds54 were subject both to Artemis’ protection and to
(sacrificial) destruction, and a similar scenario may apply to ‘sacred shoals’
of fish such as those of Atargatis.55 Also the above-mentioned chickens
(cocks and hens) kept in third century bc sanctuaries of Herakles and
Hebe, and perhaps in other sanctuaries, might conceivably have served as
sacrificial animals.56 Perhaps also the late fourth century bc guinea fowl of
Parthenos on Leros57 fall into the same category – guinea fowl (common in
Egypt but a latecomer to Greece) are mentioned by Pausanias among the
birds sacrificed to Isis at Tithorea, on which more below.
‘Sacred herds’ would certainly have been a convenient way to ensure
a ready supply of sacrificial animals, particularly in cases of wild (or semi-
wild) animals, the supply of which in time for sacrifice (and in an
unscathed state)58 could not otherwise be easily guaranteed. Yet as the
inscriptions from Morgantina illustrate, clearly not all ‘sacred flocks’ were
for sacrifice, and this is likely also, for example, for Hera’s peacocks on
Samos, attested in the fourth century bc.59 Neither do osteological finds
suggest a particularly widespread custom of dove sacrifice to Aphrodite or
any other deities – though this picture may yet change with increasing
attention being paid to osteological remains.60 The few bones of wild rock
doves that have recently been found in the Archaic sanctuary of Aphrodite

53
Delos: IG XI.2 287 A 67; cf. Bruneau (1970:420). Larissa: Decourt and Tziaphalias (2015:17 line A11,
cf. also 39–40). Small fish (apopyris) and hens are, however, recommended as purificatory sacrifice to
Artemis Phylake: ibid. 19 lines B31–32 with the discussion on pp. 40–1.
54
Such as the sacred herd belonging to Xenophon’s Artemision in Skillous (Xen. An. 5.3.7–13) and perhaps
the thremmata tes theou of Artemis at Lousoi (Polyb. 4.17–18).
55
E.g. Lucian, Syr. D., 45, see Lefèvre-Novaro (2010:51). The horses owned by Apollo at Delphi
according to an inscription of 178 bc, for example, would not have served as sacrificial animals,
whereas the cows mentioned in the same inscription might well have; cf. Isager (1992:16).
56
Ael. NA 17.46, citing Mnaseas fr. 11 Müller, cf. Arist. Hist. an. 9.614a7.
57
Klytos of Miletos fr. 1 Müller; cf. Dalby (2003:169–70). On sacred birds see also Bodson (1978:99),
and Pollard (1977:146–8).
58
As demanded e.g. by Plut. De def. or. 437a-b and Arist. fr. 101 Rose. Cf. also Stengel (1910:201–2),
arguing that this problem explains the rarity of game and fish sacrifices, but denying the possibility
that ‘sacred fish’ could have served as sacrificial animals.
59
Antiphanes fr. 175 Kock.
60
It must be remembered that bones of small birds (as of fish) are particularly vulnerable to
destruction in the archaeological record and to being missed by excavators; on this problem, see
also Ekroth in this volume (Chapter 1). Nevertheless, sacrificed pigeons seem to be attested already
in Mycenaean tombs, e.g. at Kephallenia: cf. Kyparisses (1919:97, 99 fig. 15).
76 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
at Miletos are hardly sufficient to indicate a prominent local custom of
dove sacrifices.61 Nor is the osteological evidence from the Archaic-period
dump in the sanctuary of Aphrodite Ourania at Athens conclusive; only
a few unburnt dove and chicken bones as well as (chicken) eggshells have
been found, while the majority of the assemblage is made up of burnt sheep
and goat bones as well as some burnt fishbones and shells.62 A handful of
dove bones are also known at Kalapodi and the Theban Kabeirion.63 Scarce
osteological remains might potentially hint at sacrifices of partridges at
Kommos on Crete, and at Cypriot Tamessos for Aphrodite.64 In the
Classical to Hellenistic sanctuary of Demeter at Mytilene, bird bones
include goose, partridge and pigeon/dove (though again, few), in addition
to chicken bones, which dominate the bird bone assemblage.65 As all are
unburnt (the sacrificial ash pits contained only burnt remains of young
pigs, sheep/goats as well as scallops and oysters), it seems likely that one is
dealing here with special additions to the sacred meals, possibly sacrificed
in what Ekroth suggests should be imagined as scaled-down ritual rather
than ‘regular’ thysia. As noted earlier, for birds a modified version of the
thysia would have been unavoidable for anatomical reasons alone.66
Present evidence, then, bears out John the Lydian’s assertion of par-
tridge and dove sacrifice to Aphrodite only to a limited extent – if at all,
doves appear in purificatory sacrifices or as supplementary food for ban-
quets. Still, there is no reason per se why doves and partridges should not
have served as sacrificial animals. In Near Eastern and Egyptian cultures, at
least, pigeons (notably rock pigeons) appear to have a very long history as
domesticated birds that could have a religious significance, a certain ali-
mentary role, and that could be used as sacrificial animals.67 In Greece

61
Two bones of a rock dove (columba livia) and one of a stock dove or rock dove (columba oenas
s. livia); I am grateful to Joris Peters and Henriette Obermaier for this information. The bones were
found among other bones of sacrificial animals, and Peters and Obermaier assume that the doves
would have been part of sacrificial meals. No other bird bones appear to be attested in the sanctuary.
As elsewhere in Ionia, votive figurines of women holding birds are, however, common among the
sanctuary’s offerings.
62
Reese (1989:64–8).
63
One possible domestic dove bone from Roman layers and two woodpigeon bones from Hellenistic
to Roman levels at the Kabeirion, and five dove bones from Hellenistic to Byzantine Kalapodi: Reese
(2000b:568–9). At least in some of these cases, of course, the possibility of the bones being intrusive
needs to be considered.
64
One burnt and three unburnt chukar partridge bones were found in the Phoenician sanctuary at
Kommos in the later seventh century bc, and one bone of a chukar partridge (alectoris chukar) is
known from the area of the (Archaic) temple of Astarte-Aphrodite at Tamassos: Reese (2000b:
565–6).
65 66
Ruscillo (1993). Ekroth (2007:208), and Ekroth, this volume (Chapter 1).
67
Johnston (2000); cf. also Minunno (2013).
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 77
doves were at least partly domesticated, and in Classical Athenian imagery
in particular appear as domesticated pets which, along with other birds,
enjoyed a special role in women’s world. It may be that their role as ‘pets’ of
Aphrodite and their symbolic association with the goddess restricted their
sacrificial and possibly even alimentary use; but certainly their limited place
in the alimentary systems of Greece, as well as their small size that made
sharing virtually impossible, was intimately related to their specific and
marginal role in a sacrificial context.68

‘A White Pair of Water-Haunting Geese’: Goose Sacrifice between

Greece and Egypt
This leaves us, finally, to consider the goose (chenos), the other bird
mentioned by John the Lydian and in many ways the most intriguing of
sacrificial birds in ancient Greece. Once again, scholarship is either silent
on the topic, or outdated and of limited use. Stephani’s 1864 collection of
supposed images of goose sacrifice was in large part discounted already in
1869 by Wolff.69 Similarly, Otto Keller in his 1887 study of animals in
antiquity argued that the goose as a symbol of love served as a sacrificial
animal to Venus on Cyprus and elsewhere,70 yet on closer inspection the
adduced slim body of evidence proves to be mostly irrelevant.71
Indeed, the only testimony cited by Keller to stand the test of time is the
passage in John the Lydian, which remains the sole explicit reference to
goose sacrifices to Aphrodite. Other sources mention other gods, though
these, too, are not without problems. As regards Roman Italy, the sacrifice
in Rome of a silver-coin filled goose to Mars under Domitian, referred to
by Martial (9.31), seems to be a unique event, even if in the northern
provinces of the Roman Empire Mars seems to have had a certain associa-
tion with geese.72 Regarding sacrifices of geese to Priapus, the corpus of

68
For literary passages referring to doves being served at Classical banquets, see below, n. 151.
69
Stephani (1864); Wolff (1869).
70
Keller (1887:288), referred to in Olck (1910:731), re-iterated by Thompson (1895:194 (‘sacred to
Venus in Cyprus’)).
71
Keller (1887:454 n. 24). The silver bowl found at Golgoi in Cyprus and cited by Keller as evidence for
Cypriot goose sacrifice to Aphrodite does indeed show a goose being slaughtered, but as part of an
elaborate ‘Nile cruise’; as an Egyptianising Phoenician scene, the image has little relevance for local
Cypriot customs; cf. C. Braun, in Latacz (2008:313–14 no. 34); Markoe (1985:31–2, 632); Matthäus
(1985:169, 176–7, pl. 46). Similarly, a vase image said to feature a goose sacrifice actually just
represents a figure holding a goose. Nor can a goose next to Aphrodite on an Etruscan mirror be
taken as a hint at a goose sacrifice, as the bird merely accompanies the goddess.
72
He is occasionally shown accompanied by a goose: see Mattern (1992), who (quite possibly correctly)
suspects a link with the goose’s perceived role as guardian at Rome – though representations on
78 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
evidence73 has been critically re-evaluated – and virtually obliterated – by
recent scholarship. This includes the famous passage in Petronius (136.4–7)
referring to Priapus’ sacred geese and their role as sacrificial animals, as well
as several supposed scenes on vases, gems and reliefs, which are today
largely discounted, mostly for good reasons.74 Certainly, in art, representa-
tions of actual bird sacrifices to a (priapic) herm (other scenes often merely
show a bird sitting on an altar) are often not clear enough to allow
a definitive identification of the bird, and more often than not (as e.g.
above, Fig. 3.2) a cock is more likely.75
Somewhat less equivocal is a group of Roman period references to goose
sacrifices in the cult of Isis, several of which relate to Roman Greece.
Earliest among them is Ovid, who in his Fasti mentions geese being
sacrificed to Io/Isis, but adds no further details.76 Pausanias in his descrip-
tions of Roman Greece is more specific. His account of a three-day festival
of Isis at Tithorea in Phokis (10.32.16) includes the description of
a holocaustic sacrifice said to be in a traditional Egyptian manner, at
which ‘the more prosperous people slaughter cattle and deer, the less well-
off even slaughter geese and guinea fowl; but the use of sheep, pigs, or goats
would be against the sacred law’. The account is striking for three reasons:
the whole of the sacrifice is holocaustic; the permitted sacrificial animals are
mostly unusual; and birds are explicitly designated as cheap offerings made
by the poor. As regards the first point, we may again refer to Pirenne-
Delforge’s and Ekroth’s observation that the proliferation of holocaustic
sacrifices in accounts of Roman Greece may well reflect a Roman penchant
for violent displays and a connotation of presumed antiquity for

a Prenaestine cista and a relief from Ostia are hardly sufficient for arguing a widespread link between
geese and Juno. Cf. also Albarella (2005:254 fig. 4); Borhy (1994:145–53); Keller (1887:456 n. 42);
Olck (1910:723, 735).
73
As cited by Stephani (1864:79); Keller (1887:455, n. 24); Thompson (1895:194); Olck (1910:733–4);
and others.
74
See especially Richardson (1980:98–103); Hamer (2007:321–3). Richardson points to the general lack
of evidence for sacred geese and goose sacrifices to Priapus apart from the passage in Petronius, and
Hamer notes the possibility of the passage being a mere literary allusion to the famous episode of
Marcus Manlius and the Capitoline Geese in Livy 5.47. Cf. also Hünemörder (1998:780).
The evidence cited by Stephani (1864:79 n. 8; cf. 1868:146) was critically assessed already by Wolff
(1869:189–90), and Herter (1932:269).
75
See e.g. the gems collected by Brogli (1996:185–6 nos. 179–86, pls. 36–8), many of which show a bird
the size of a chicken held upside down above the altar at a rural shrine usually featuring a herm; both
men and women are shown as involved in the sacrifice. Also on the relief-decorated altar dedicated
to Diana in the British Museum (GR 1805,0703.206 [Sculpture 2489]; above, Fig. 3.2), mentioned
by Keller (1887:455, n. 25) as depicting a goose sacrifice to Priapus, the bird may very well be a cock
(and is in fact described as such by Matz (1963:46 no. 27)).
76
Ov. Fast. 1.453–4; cf. also Prescendi (2007:209).
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 79
holocaustic sacrifices. They are surely right in cautioning us not to assume
that such accounts necessarily reflect earlier Greek enagismos rituals, but,
sometimes at least, original thysiai.77 The third point ties in well with what
has been observed earlier in relation to economic considerations affecting
chicken sacrifices. That such considerations also affected geese as sacrificial
animals seems confirmed by a passage that describes an exceptional goose
sacrifice to Apollo at Daphne in Syria in the fourth century ad, where the
context implies that geese were seen primarily as cheap private offerings.
Geese are also mentioned in close association with chickens in the second
century bc inscription from near Larissa, noted above, which stipulates
a payment to the sanctuary of an obol per chicken and an obol and a half
per goose that is sacrificed; it is noteworthy here that the sacrifices are
regular thysiai, and that the bird’s legs and innards are to be offered on the
sacrificial table, while the rest of the animal can be taken away.78
As with chickens, cheapness and easy availability alone are not sufficient
to explain the use of geese as sacrificial animals. Instead, there are strong
indications that, as sacrificial animals, geese had specific connotations that
determined both their choice by certain worshippers and their suitability
for certain cults and certain deities. In particular, the goose was closely
associated with the world of women and female deities. Not only are geese
frequently represented as pets of women and children in fifth century bc
‘gynaikeion’ scenes and grave reliefs,79 but the goose, alongside the swan, is
also a common mount for Aphrodite and Eros particularly in Classical
Athens, one of the earliest examples being the Pistoxenos Painter’s white-
ground cup of 470/60 bc (Fig. 3.3).80 As I have set out elsewhere in more
detail,81 geese in Classical Greece carried connotations of domesticity and
beauty, the goose’s white plumage reflecting female white skin and purity.
They also stood for virtues such as loyalty, watchfulness and protection of
house and offspring – Aristotle (Hist. an. 1.1.488b23) highlights the goose’s

77
Pirenne-Delforge (2006).
78
Artemis sanctuary near Larissa: Decourt and Tziaphalias (2015: 19 lines B54–55); elsewhere in the
inscription (ibid. p. 20 lines B70–73), instructions are given for payments relating to the
holocaustic sacrifice of geese and other birds (quails and ‘trybba’ – cf. also ibid. p. 40), all
attracting the same fee as a goose. Apollo sanctuary in Syria: Julian Mis. 362b. An indication of
the price of geese is given by a Ptolemaic papyrus of 190–188 bc, which lists the cost of a goose at
600 bronze dr. and a small goose at 200 bronze dr., compared to a ceramion of wine at 400 copper
dr., cf. Segre (1942:179).
79
Villing (2008), with further literature.
80
London, British Museum GR 1864,1007.77 (Vase D 2); on this and other representations of
Aphrodite with a goose, see A. Delivorrias, G. Berger-Doer and A. Kossatz-Deissmann, LIMC II
(1984) s.v. Aphrodite, esp. 96–8 Aphrodite 903–46.
81
Villing (2008).
80 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g

Fig. 3.3. Attic white-ground cup by the Pistoxenos Painter, about 470–460 bc,
depicting Aphrodite on a goose. London, British Museum GR 1864,1007.77 (Vase
D 2). Photograph © Trustees of the British Museum.

‘cautious and watchful’ nature – characteristics that associated them closely

with the female world and with socially desirable female virtues.82
It is of little surprise, then, that we hear of instances of flocks of ‘sacred
geese’ being associated with sanctuaries of female deities. The most famous
‘sacred geese’ are, of course, those of Juno on the Capitoline hill in Rome,
although this particular case has recently undergone much critical re-
evaluation and in many ways emerges as a red herring in as far as the
phenomenon of sacred flocks is concerned.83 However, there are also other,

82
Hence also perhaps its brief association in Athenian imagery with the goddess Athena: Villing
(2008). A further possible element linking the goose and other water birds with women might have
been the idea of women’s ‘moist’ nature as we find it e.g. in the writings of Hippokrates: Cole (2004:
161–2); cf. also Rocchi (2004), on the significance of the fat(tened) goose. Similar connotations
appear to be known also in other cultures; an example is the long-standing tradition of the gift of
a goose by the groom to the bride’s mother in Korea.
83
See e.g. Ziolkowski (1993:206–19) with earlier literature; cf. also Hünemörder (1998). For the second
century ad relief from Ostia showing geese outside a temple, see also Simon (1990:103 fig. 128).
Ovid’s passage (Fast. 1.453–5), ‘nor did saving the Capitol protect the goose from yielding up its liver
on a charger to thee, daughter of Inachus’, attributing goose sacrifices to Io/Isis while referring to the
Capitol episode, indirectly suggests that no such sacrifices were performed for Juno.
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 81
and earlier, examples – indeed, if we interpret the Linear-B tablets from
Thebes correctly, geese may have been tended (and fed with olive oil) in
a sacred context already in Mycenaean times.84 Aelius Aristides85 not only
refers to sacred geese being kept in the temple of Isis at Smyrna, but also
talks of the goddess asking for two geese to be sacrificed to her – hence
confirming that one and the same species could be sacred and sacrificed to
one and the same deity, and corroborating the idea that sacred flocks might
have served as ready supplies for sacrifice.
A particularly notable case is the flock of geese that were kept on
Delos (in addition to the doves and partridges mentioned earlier). Over
several decades in the third century bc the Delian temple accounts
testify to the priests keeping geese and fox-geese on the sacred lake
(limne),86 and it may be that at least some of them had been given to the
sanctuary as offerings. The purchase of barley for their feed, the sale of
dead geese and of partridges as well as of goose and fox-goose eggs are all
attested: the animals were clearly an integral part of sanctuary economy.
Interestingly, swans are not mentioned in this context, in spite of their
close association with Apollo, the main Delian deity, in myth and art.87
Swans, however, were generally neither eaten88 nor, it seems, sacrificed
in ancient Greece, nor were their eggs consumed; their conspicuous
absence from Delos (and other sanctuaries) further supports the impres-
sion that sacred flocks more often than not had practical functions in
sanctuaries.89

84
Rousioti (2001:308); cf. also Neumann (2006), referring to ornithes, geese and pigeons as birds
probably kept by Mycenaean Greeks.
85
Sacred Tales 3.44–50 = 49.44–50 Behr. See the discussion in Dunand (1973:75–6). Geese kept in
a sanctuary (of an unspecified deity) are also mentioned by Artemidoros (Oneirocr. 4.83).
86
Esp. IG XI.2 144, A lines 23–5; 146, A line 16; 156, A line 16; 158, A lines 31–2; 161, A line 38; 287 lines
45, 59–60, 64, 66–8, 71; ID 290, line 82; 292 line 2; etc.; cf. Bruneau (1979:83–107, esp. 98); Reger
(1994:11, 96, 198). Prêtre et al. (2002) features a translation of IG XI.2 161 and 287; I am grateful to
Clarisse Prêtre for helpful advice on geese and other birds on Delos. Keller’s claim (1887:289–90)
that ‘vielfach wurden die Gänse heerdenweise bei den Tempeln aufgezogen und galten dann für
heilig’ makes too much of the limited evidence.
87
Both in literature (among the earliest references linking Apollo with the swan is Sappho fr. 208) and
in art, see e.g. the representation of Apollo riding a swan on the Athenian bell krater London (British
Museum GR 1917,0725.2) and other similar representations: W. Lambrinoudakis, in LIMC II
(1984), 227–8 Apollo 342–50. Cf. also the discussion in Skalsky (1997:57–9), and the early association
of Hyakinthos with the swan: Villard (1999:546–50).
88
The appearance of swans – alongside pelicans and cranes – in an extravagant dinner menu described
by Anaxandrides (quoted below, n. 151) is surely meant as a joke.
89
Larger animals, too, such as oxen, goats and pigs, were kept on Delos – in the fourth century bc,
cows grazed on Apollo’s land, and wool from sacred sheep was being sold; these animals, however,
were clearly also sacrificial animals; cf. Isager (1992:15–20).
82 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
The Delian geese are usually believed to have been sacred to Leto,90
though one may wonder if they did not perhaps also play a role in the
worship of Isis, which is attested on Delos since at least 300 bc.91 Keeping
flocks of geese (and other waterfowl) attached to temples was certainly
popular in Isis’ Egyptian homeland; the best-known example is probably
Karnak, where domesticated (greylag) geese were kept in the fowl-yard
(home also to ducks, doves, cranes and other birds) associated with the
temple so as to provide ready supplies for offerings to Amun-Ra, and where
the daily ritual included the release of a goose onto the sacred lake.92
Greylag geese (anser anser) had long been domesticated in Egypt and
were kept in poultry yards. As sacrificial animals they had been popular
(second only to cattle) since the Old Kingdom and were used in food
offerings in sanctuaries and to the dead; domesticated white-fronted geese
(anser albifrons) may have been equally popular, and also wild geese were
caught, kept, eaten and offered.93
An Egyptian connection is further supported by the presence of wild
Egyptian Nile or fox-geese (chenalopex aegyptica) among the Delian birds;
these were an Egyptian species known to Greeks at least since the fifth
century bc but never common there.94 In Egypt, they had a close association
with the gods Amun, Re and Geb (father of Isis), both as an embodiment of
these gods and as sacrificial animals, featuring in foundation deposits of
temples and in Opening of the Mouth ceremonies. In the Late Period –
a time of increased contact between Greece and Egypt – geese and other
sacrificial animals were often seen as symbolic of enemies. The geese sacri-
ficed in a holocaust for Horus, son of Isis, for example, belong in this
symbolic framework of the destruction of the enemy.95 Indeed, at least

90 91
Bruneau (1970:211). Cf. Dunand (1973:83–115).
92
Kuentz (1934); Ricke (1937); Graindorge (1996). Note also that one of Amun’s epithets was ‘the
beautiful smn-goose’, i.e. fox-goose. Although the domestication of greylag geese is easy and was
probably repeated many times in different times and regions, it seems to be first attested in Egypt:
MacDonald and Blench (2000:529–30).
93
On geese in Egypt, see esp. Störk (1977); cf. also Cobianchi (1936:121–38); Vandier (1971); Speyer
(1973:178–89); Houlihan and Goodman (1986:54–65); Boessneck (1988:88–103); Wilson (1988:
38–41); Graindorge (1996); MacDonald and Blench (2000:529–30); cf. also Hdt. 2.45, and note
the Egyptian silver bowl mentioned above, n. 71. As in Greece, geese may also have been pets in
Egypt; cf. Störk (1977). In ancient Mesopotamia, too, geese had long been domesticated and were
kept for eggs and meat; they feature, for example, alongside sheep, oxen, deer, ducks, pigeons, fish
and gerbils in Ashurnasirpal’s banquet of 863 bc: McIntosh (2005:125, 128–9).
94
Cf. the mention in Aristophanes’ Birds 1303; cf. also Olck (1910:712); Keller (1913:226–7); Pollard
(1977:65).
95
Cf. Junker (1910:69–79); Wildung (1977); Eggebrecht (1977); Graindorge (1996:89–91) and most
recently Bouanich (2005). More positive connotations of the goose are also attested, e.g. as an animal
to lift the deceased up to heaven.
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 83
some instances of the famous Hellenistic sculptural motif of a boy seemingly
playfully strangling a fox-goose,96 which goes back to at least the early third
century bc, allude to a young Egyptian god (Harpokrates/Horus the Child)
strangling the (sacrificial) goose as the embodiment of an evil enemy, hence
suggesting that this symbolism was not entirely unknown in an early
Hellenistic Greco-Egyptian environment.97
Geese were also sacrificed to Isis herself in Ptolemaic Egypt: a Greek
letter of 254 bc stipulates the provision of ornithas chenea kai ornithea for
a festival of Isis in Alexandria, while an ostracon from the area of
Philadelphia refers to the provision for Isis of chena kai chenion (goose and
gosling).98 Interestingly, there is also an overlap with Aphrodite. Satyrus’
third century bc text on The demes of Alexandria stipulates the sacrifice (by
private people in front of their houses) of ornea or other victims, except for
sheep, for Arsinoe Philadelphos, an empress who was likened both to
Aphrodite Euploia and Isis.99 More explicit is the link when Ptolemaic
Isis takes over Aphrodite’s iconography of riding on a goose.100 Rather than
considering a random borrowing or syncretism, one may wonder whether
Isis, Aphrodite and the goose are here linked because of an overlap of
associations with water and seafaring. For Aphrodite and geese, we have
seen this association stated explicitly in John the Lydian’s explanation of
goose sacrifices being appropriate for Aphrodite (Euploia) because of the
geese’s liking for water. For Isis, the same idea is brought out in an epigram
of the Greek Anthology that describes a goose sacrifice by Damis to Isis and
Osiris in gratitude for a rescue at sea: ‘On the wood-ashes a crumbling cake
is laid for thee and there is a white pair of water-haunting geese, and
powdery nard round many-grained figs, and wrinkled raisins and sweet-
scented frankincense.’101 The goose for Isis is here not just a conveniently

96
Ridgway (2006).
97
Schollmeyer (2003; 2007). Similar conclusions are also reached by Ridgway (2006). Strangling was
a common way of killing geese and other sacrificial birds in Egypt: Bouanich (2005:151).
98
P. Cair. Zen. IV.59560 (Alexandria) and BGU VII.1501 (Philadelphia), both quoted by Dunand
(1973:76).
99
P. Oxy. 27 2465; the link with Isis has been argued especially by Schorn (2001).
100
Egyptian terracotta flask in the shape of Isis riding on a goose in the British Museum, dated to
the second or first century bc, possibly a caricature: London, British Museum EA 30458
(1899,0314.10): Walker and Higgs (2001:107 no. 130).
101
Anth.Pal. 6.231, attributed to Philippos. Cf. also a reference to goose sacrifices to Osiris in Juv. 6.540
(‘His tears and carefully-studied mutterings make sure that Osiris will not refuse a pardon for the
fault, bribed, no doubt, by a fat goose and a slice of sacrificial cake’). The gem on which a woman is
shown shoving a bird upside down into the sacrificial fire in the presence of an aulos-playing man,
cited by Wolff (1869) as evidence for goose sacrifices to Isis, may well not feature a goose, but rather
represent a rural sacrifice of a cock like that on the (in parts very similar) cameo published in Brogli
(1996:185 no. 179, pl. 36), cf. above n. 75.
84 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
cheap sacrificial animal, a symbol of fertility or a mere survival of a long
Egyptian tradition of bird sacrifice; it is chosen specially for its association
with water, essential not just for life and agricultural fertility, but also the
element across which the migratory goose flies on its travels across the
continents and from which Isis rescues sailors in peril. As such, it is highly
appropriate as the sacrificial animal for Isis, whose cult as patron of
navigation spread from Ptolemaic Egypt across the Greek and Roman
world, as well as for Aphrodite, goddess of love, in her function as patroness
of seafaring.102

Of Geese and Deer: A Classical Goose Sacrifice

Is goose sacrifice in the Greek world, then, essentially a Hellenistic (or
Ptolemaic) topos, bound up with the advent of the cult of Isis and her
association with deities such as Aphrodite? This is what Stengel had already
suspected,103 and we might have been tempted to agree with him, were it
not for the conspicuous presence of geese in earlier Classical Greek icono-
graphy – and especially an exceptional votive relief that represents an actual
Greek goose sacrifice as early as the late fifth century bc.
The relief (Fig. 3.4),104 found on Aigina, is the only certain Greek
representation of a goose sacrifice known so far,105 and a unique represen-
tation also in many other respects. It shows a sacrificial procession towards

102
Cf. Dunand (1973:223–30); on Isis and water, cf. also Wild (1981). On Aphrodite, water and the sea,
see Pironti (2007:158, 245–7); Papadopoulou (2010).
103
Stengel (1910:227), prompted in part by the absence of geese from the above-mentioned list of
Greek sacrificial animals in Theophrastos (ap. Porph. Abst. 2.25), compared to their inclusion in
(presumably) later lists.
104
Athens, National Archaeological Museum 1950, from Aigina, Palaiochora: Polinskaya (2013:293–4,
645 fig. 15); Kearns (2010:212 fig. 9); E. Vlachogianni in Kaltsas and Shapiro (2008:228–9); Schörner
(2008:355, pl. 20 fig. 34); L. Kahil, in LIMC II (1984), 658 Artemis 461; A. Costantini, in ThesCRA
III (2005), 188 no. 64; M. True et al., in ThesCRA I (2004), 15 no. 91; A. Hermary and
M. Leguilloux, in ThesCRA I (2004), 75 no. 71; Kaltsas (2002:143 no. 273); Comella (2002:79–80
fig. 72, p. 209 no. Egina 4); Parisinou (2000:97, 215 no. 6.78, pl. 33); Edelmann (1999:117, 214–15 no.
F20); van Straten (1995:84–5, 293–4 no. R76); Simon (1985:279, pl. 52.2); Mitropoulou (1977:72
no. 145); Kraus (1960:112); Welter (1938:533–40, fig. 49); cited also by Burkert as evidence for goose
sacrifice: Burkert (1985:368 n. 3).
105
A further possible allusion to a goose sacrifice appears on a fourth century bc hero and heroine
banquet relief from Athens (Athens, National Archaeological Museum 3873) that shows a pig being
led to sacrifice while, further back, a goose (?) is being chased by a boy. Van Straten took the bird to
be an additional sacrificial animal, while Lawton recently proposed that in this particular instance
the bird may be no more than the toddler’s pet; while the presence of a pet might seem strange in
a sacrificial context, it is true that the bird is not being led to the altar the way one would expect for
a sacrificial animal, and the interpretation as a goose sacrifice thus has to remain doubtful: van
Straten (1995:98, 306 no. R126, fig. 103); Lawton (2007:46–7, fig. 2.3).
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 85

Fig. 3.4. Marble votive relief from Aigina, Palaiochora, about 400 bc. Athens,
National Archaeological Museum, inv. 1950. Deutsches Archäologisches Institut
Athen, Neg. no. D-DAI-ATH-NM 6275. Photo: G. Hellner.

a large altar with a curved top on a four-stepped base. The size and shape of
the latter is highly unusual if not unparalleled in Greek iconography.106
Most immediately one is reminded of high-stepped altars, sometimes
topped by horns of consecration, as they seem to be found in Bronze Age
Cyprus or Anatolia.107 Closer to home, it most closely resembles the type of
monumental stepped Ionian block altar with volute-acroteria, as it is

106
Aktseli 1996: 9, 15, 87 no. Rd19. A much smaller four-stepped base with altar is found in an
Eleusinian scene on a mid-fifth-century bc Attic red-figure krater by the Niobid Painter (Paris,
Louvre G343: Aktseli 1996:102 no. Vc109), a three-stepped base with altar features on a black-figure
amphora of 540–530 bc (Paris, ex Coll. Niarchos: Aktseli 1996:107 no. Vf1, fig. 12), and a tall seven-
stepped base carrying an altar and two herms appears in a rural sacrificial scene on an Attic black-
figure skyphos of 520–500 bc (Athens, NM 12531; E. Stasinolopoulou-Kakarouga in Kaltsas and
Shapiro (2008:234–5)). Welter (1938:533–40) believed the structure on the Aigina relief to be a ship
monument instead of an altar, but a ship monument as the destination of what is clearly a sacrificial
procession is hard to imagine; subsequent scholarship has generally discounted the idea, though
Comella (2002:79–80, 209), equally unconvincingly, suggests an identification as the prow of a ship
placed on top of a stepped altar.
107
Taylor (1957:17, 103–11); Hoffmann (1953).
86 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
known from the sixth and fifth centuries bc.108 In front of the altar, one
man is pouring a libation from a phiale, seemingly over the goose, which
another man is holding with both arms. Van Straten sees the libation as
unconnected to the goose, but the placement of the phiale above the
goose’s head and the fact that the goose seems deliberately held low
would seem to suggest otherwise.109 The goose has a long triangular beak
(the front section partly broken off) and its legs are dangling behind the
man’s left hand; his right hand (fingers partly broken off) supports the
goose around its chest.110 Both men are bearded and wear a short chiton.
The unusual scene of apparently pouring a libation over the goose may
represent the pre-sacrifice sprinkling with water (or indeed dousing with
a libation – kataspendomenon) of the animal that was intended to cause the
animal to move and shake off the water, a ritual that has been fundamen-
tally re-evaluated of late.111 A boy leading a (young) male deer and a group
consisting of a woman, a man and a girl (presumably further family
members) follows. Behind the two men with the goose stands a goddess
rendered in very low relief; she is dressed in a peplos with a loose overfold,
her hair in a bun, and she is holding two short torches.
The sacrifice thus appears to be a regular thysia for a female deity, yet its
further interpretation is highly problematic. Who are the people offering the
sacrifice, who is the recipient and what is the occasion? As on most votive
reliefs, the sacrifice represented here is a private small-scale affair, and the
family is offering neither a large number of animals nor the most expensive
ones.112 The choice of animals, nevertheless, is exceptional, as is the working
men’s dress of the figures actually performing the sacrifice. Worshippers
normally would represent themselves in regular citizens’ garb, of the kind
worn by the other worshippers on the relief.113 One is reminded of the

108
Ohnesorg (2005:3–4, 36–7 no. 10, 135–6 no. 9, pls. 14, 33, 43); alternatively, the curved top might
represent the wind-break of a block- or pi-shaped altar: ibid., 4–5. Hoffmann argues for an Egyptian
origin of the Ionian stepped altar: Hoffmann (1953).
109
van Straten (1995:84–5).
110
A. Hermary (ThesCRA I [2004], 74–5 no. 71), perhaps mistaking the right hand of the man holding
the goose for a front leg, recently suggested that the animal might in fact be a turtle. However,
a close examination of the relief shows clearly that the animal is a goose.
111
On the rite of kataspendomenon cf. esp. Plut. De def. or. 435b–c, who talks of libations being poured
on animals; iconographically, however, the use of a phiale for pouring a libation over an animal
seems to be unique: cf. Gebauer (2002:215); van Straten (1995:37). For the recent critical re-
assessment of the issue of the ‘nodding’ victim in connection with the rite, see Georgoudi in the
present volume (Chapter 4); Naiden (2007:61–73, esp. 64–5); Parker (2011:129–30).
112
Cf. Edelmann (1999:154).
113
Only few votive reliefs feature dedicants in workmen’s attire, such as a late fifth century bc votive
relief from Athens, in which a man in a short chiton and pilos appears with his horse cart before
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 87
above-mentioned passage in Pausanias (10.32.16) that refers to poorer people
offering geese to Isis at Tithorea. In the context of a votive relief, however,
such dress can hardly connote poverty – a relief in itself is not a cheap
offering after all, and the relief in question is large and well carved.
As Stafford114 notes in her discussion of cocks being offered to Asklepios,
‘the humble nature of the cock-sacrifice probably explains its absence from
the iconographical record’. Hence, to find a humble dress as well as
a humble goose depicted in a large relief intended for public display suggests
that special significance must be attached to the men’s profession (or perhaps
also origin?) rather than their economic status.115 And the choice of sacrificial
animals itself is special, too, including not only the goose, prominently
displayed, but also a young deer, equally unusual as a sacrificial animal.116
We can assume that the goose is likely to be domesticated rather than wild,
as domesticated geese by this time were widespread in Greece (cf. below),
but also the young deer, being led calmly to the altar, appears tame – a mere
iconographic device or a possible hint at sacred herds of tame deer?117
The rite represented in the relief is clearly a thysia, yet the choice of
sacrificial animals is most reminiscent of literary descriptions of holocaustic
rites. The first parallel that springs to mind is Pausanias’ above-mentioned
description of the festival at Tithorea, which involved sacrifices of both
deer and geese. Even more pertinent is the reference in the Greek Anthology
(6.231.4) that describes the (holocaustic?) sacrifice to Isis of ‘a white pair of
water-haunting geese’ brought by Damis in gratitude for a rescue at sea; it
concludes: ‘But if, O queen, you save Damis from poverty, as you did from
the deep, he will sacrifice a young deer [kemas] with gilded horns’ – thus
mirroring precisely the combination of sacrificial animals on our relief
(while also suggesting a difference in value between geese and deer). Could
the two men in working men’s clothes thus be mariners, sacrificing at
a shrine of Isis on Aigina – the great seafaring island with long-standing
close trade connections with Egypt? Might they be thanking the goddess

Asklepios, Hygieia and Epione, a dedication made in thanks for being rescued by the god:
Edelmann (1999:192 no. B51); Comella (2002:48 fig. 34).
114
Stafford (2008:212).
115
On the function of votive reliefs in the communication between worshipper and deity, see esp.
Klöckner (2006:139–52).
116
Both animals are attested on Aigina since the Bronze Age; a (greylag?) goose bone was recently
recovered at Kolonna in a Middle Helladic context probably of domestic nature, alongside bones of
dove, rock partridge and other birds, but especially sheep, goat, cattle as well as red deer, wild boar
and other animals: Forstenpointner et al. (2010).
117
Compare also Borowsky’s argument that deer must be counted among the domesticated stock in an
Israelite/Punic context, on the basis of their appearance as sacrificial animals in written documents
and archaeological evidence: Borowsky (2002:416).
88 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
for a safe return, such as from a voyage to the Greek trading post at
Naukratis in the Nile Delta, where Aigina possessed a sanctuary of Zeus
(Hdt. 2.178)? Certainly by the Hellenistic period, Isis had come to promi-
nence as a patroness of navigation and specifically of mariners in peril.118
By the later fourth century bc she had an Egyptian-founded sanctuary in
the Piraeus, and it is just about possible that she was worshipped there
already by the later fifth century bc.119 Greeks living in or visiting Egypt
would have been familiar with her worship since the Archaic period, and it
is to Isis that the majority of the Archaic and Classical Greek dedications in
Egyptian sanctuaries were made.120 It would thus not be entirely incon-
ceivable to imagine that Greek sailors returning from Egypt also wor-
shipped Isis on home soil, perhaps in fulfilment of a vow. They do not
necessarily have to be Aiginetans, though, since the relief dates from a time
well after the maritime heyday of Aigina, and could have been dedicated by
visiting Athenians or by members of the Athenian cleruchy on Aigina.
Alternatively, it might be an attractive hypothesis to see the relief as a
dedication by those Aiginetans who were, in 405 bc, recalled from exile and
reinstated on the island by the Spartan general Lysander, an event that surely
was reason enough for a thank offering to the gods. Whether this god was
Isis, however, cannot be considered as certain. Not only is the relief a good
hundred years earlier than our first secure attestations of Isis as patroness of
mariners and of her worship on Greek soil, but it needs to be admitted that
there is nothing else in the iconography of the goddess on the relief to clearly
mark her as Egyptian Isis. Other options thus need to be explored.
The divine female figure with two torches is clearly of standard Greek
iconography and represents a type common enough in the fifth and fourth
centuries bc. A particularly close parallel can be found on an Early Classical
Athenian amphora that equally features an altar and a goose (Fig. 3.5a)121 and
118
Cf. Dunand (1973:227–8); although there is no explicit evidence for it, Dunand considers it possible
that this function goes back already to earlier periods.
119
As is suggested by passages in comedy and the personal name ‘Isigenes’ of an Athenian citizen (IG
II2 1927.50), although the cult of Isis was not taken up more widely by Greeks until much later:
Simms (1989:216–21); Bäbler (1998:71–2). There were also Egyptians resident in Athens in the
period. No sanctuary of Isis is so far attested for Aigina.
120
Notably a bronze statuette of Isis with Horus child of c. 500 bc dedicated to Isis by Pythermos, son
of Neilon, in fulfilment of a vow; cf. a similar dedication, by Alexiades and Tabo, from Leontopolis
of the early fourth century bc, and a Carian dedication to Isis of the later sixth century bc:
Vittmann (2003:231–2); Vittmann (2005). Cf. also the seventh century bc Ionian bronze griffin
protome found in the area of the temple complex of Isis and Apis at Saqqara: Green (1987:62–3
no. 151 fig. 92).
121
Gela, Museo Archeologico, inv. 9232: Villing (2008:173, 180 fig. 6); ARV2 650.10, attributed to the
Nikon Painter. A further interesting group – not least in the light of the Boiotian myth of Herkyna
mentioned below – are Boiotian vases with representations of geese and other water birds
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 89

Fig. 3.5a. Attic red-figure Nolan amphora by the Nikon Painter, about 470–460 bc,
depicting a woman and goose at an altar. Gela, Museo Archeologico, inv. 9232; from
Vassallagi/Sicily. Photograph after NSA 9th ser. 9–10 (1998–9) 263 fig. 46.b.

hence may suggest that goose sacrifices for a torch-bearing deity were
perhaps not just a one-off. On this particular amphora, unfortunately, the
female figure cannot be identified with certainty; an identification as
a mortal in the context of a bridal ritual has been suggested, yet on purely
iconographic grounds another possibility is Hekate, whose representations
on later fifth century bc Athenian vases – where she is securely identified by
inscriptions – includes some very close parallels for the torch-bearing figure
on our relief (Fig. 3.5b).122 What is more, Hekate is known to have been
especially honoured on Aigina: her shrine contained a wooden statue by
Myron (Paus. 2.30.2), she appears as seated and torch-bearing on a later
votive relief,123 yearly mysteries were celebrated in her honour and she had
a special concern with seafaring.124 Already Hesiod (Theog. 440–447) refers
to Hekate (together with Poseidon) assisting those who sail the gleaming,

accompanying women and other figures: Avronidaki (2015); I am grateful to Christina Avronidaki
for bringing them to my attention.
122
Attic hydria of about 430 bc showing Hekate (inscribed) in an Eleusinian setting: London, British
Museum GR 1868,0606.8 (Vase E183); H. Sarian, in LIMC VI (1992), 991 Hekate 21, pl. 655; cf. also
Kraus (1960:92–4). We may note in this context that at least in Roman times Hekate could be
equated with Isis: Apuleius, The Golden Ass 11.2.5. For the identification, notably in Boeotian vase-
painting, of torch-bearing women paired with water-birds as maidens in nuptial ritual, see
Avronidaki (2015).
123
Athens, National Archaeological Museum 1475, probably from Aigina, dated to about 330–320 bc:
Kaltsas (2002:237 no. 499).
124
Lucian (Ploion 15.258) mentions a group of sailors visiting Aigina to see the rites of Hekate, and also
Origen in the third (C. Cels. 6.22) and Libanius in the fourth century ad (Or. 14.5) refer to mysteries
and rituals of Hekate on Aigina; cf. also Ar. Vesp. 122; cf. also Kraus (1960:112); Kowalzig (2010:
163–4). On Hekate as a ‘sea-goddess’ see also Athen. 7.325, quoting Melanthius.
90 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g

Fig. 3.5b. Attic red-figure hydria by the Painter of London E183, about 430 bc,
depicting an Eleusinian scene with Hekate (inscribed). London, British Museum
GR 1868,0606.8 (Vase E 183). Photograph © Trustees of the British Museum.

stormy sea. He notes her power of granting a rich catch to fishermen, besides
her patronship (alongside Hermes) of herds of cattle, goats and sheep, as well
as human offspring. Hekate’s marine concerns are expressed also in her
repeatedly receiving yet another ‘unusual’ sacrificial animal, namely fish.125
An identification of the deity on the relief as Hekate is, in fact, favoured
by many scholars,126 having first been suggested by Welter, who proposed
the two men to be fishermen (or sailors) worshipping Hekate as goddess of
the sea. What remains a problem, however, is the fact that neither goose nor
deer are otherwise attested among animals sacrificed to Hekate. A fourth
century bc relief might provide a possible parallel, as it shows a small animal
that may (or may not) be a deer being led to sacrifice before three female
deities, who have, highly speculatively, been suggested to represent the
triple nature of Hekate.127 According to (later) written sources, however,
Hekate’s sacrificial animals are restricted to piglets and dogs. These were
also the goddess’s main companion animals, indicative of a structural
distance to the civilised world of the polis.128 Indeed, this raises a further
fundamental question: under what circumstances would commensality
between humans and a deity, such as is inevitably associated with a thysia,
have been conceivable for a deity such as Hekate? Of course, we need to

125
Athen. 7.284a, 325. An identification as Hekate may be supported also by the low-relief epiphany of
the figure behind the sacrificial scene.
126
E.g. by Welter, Simon, Kraus, Edelmann, True et al. and Vlachogianni – see above, n. 104.
127
Brindisi, Museo Archeologico Provinciale 384: Edelmann (1999:194 no. B62); Larson, Chapter 1 in
this volume, n. 21. Mitropoulou (1975:50–1 no. 33), however, identifies the animal as a ram.
128
Cf. A. Hermary, in ThesCRA I (2004), 83.
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 91
take care not to label Hekate as a goddess associated with pollution at too
early a period; her character was complex and notably in the Archaic period
she certainly could receive commensal thysiai. Yet by the time of the relief’s
erection the goddess was already firmly associated with the chthonic sphere,
as well as with notions of witchcraft, at least in Athens. ‘Disjunctive’, non-
commensal sacrifices – such as deposited meals or holocausts – would thus
seem better suited to her in this period than ‘conjunctive’ rites.129
Would an identification as Artemis, as favoured by Jennifer Larson in
the present volume, be a better option? As is set out by Larson, it is Artemis
who is known to have been the main recipient of deer sacrifices in Greek
cult.130 Thysiai of deer to Artemis are attested in literary sources and
osteological evidence, as well as representations. The latter, interestingly,
include a votive relief from a sanctuary of Artemis at Mt. Kynthos on
Delos, which, similar to our relief, features an unusually high-stepped altar
(Larson, Chapter 2 in this volume, fig. 2.1). The altar type is, in fact,
attested on Delos from the Archaic period (and, incidentally, if Hoffmann
is correct with his suspicion of Egyptian influence on the type, might join
the lake with sacred geese as a further Egyptian aspect to the Delian
religious landscape).131 Hence, both Sam Wide and Paul Stengel had
identified the recipient deity on the Aigina relief as Artemis, whose cult
is equally attested on Aigina (Paus. 2.30.1).132 Iconographically, a deity with
two torches could well be Artemis, even if this iconographic scheme is less
common for her than for Hekate and one might expect Artemis to be more
clearly identified by means of attributes, such as bow and quiver.133 Still, we
may remember that already Aischylos (Supp. 676–7) combined Artemis
and Hekate into a single entity, Artemis-Hekate, indicating a close rela-
tionship between the two. How appropriate would goose sacrifices be for
Artemis? Interestingly, geese feature prominently in the Archaic imagery of
a deity closely related to Artemis, the Mistress of the Animals, who in early
Greek art frequently holds large water birds, including geese, by the
neck.134 These geese, however, are wild animals, like the lions or panthers

129
On Hekate’s complex character, which included civic aspects and a general role of guiding
individuals through liminal points and transitions, see recently Herda (2011:68–9 with notes
70–2), and Johnston (1999:21–8). On conjunctive and disjunctive sacrifices, see Parker (2011:141,
146–8).
130
Cf. Stengel (1910:197); cf. also Kadletz (1976:84–7).
131
Hoffmann (1953:195, pl. 60.18); Ohnesorg (2005:53–7, fig. 22).
132
Stengel (1910:197) followed by L. Kahil in LIMC II (1984) 658 Artemis 461; Parisinou (2000:97, 215
no. 678).
133
For a parallel see e.g. L. Kahil in LIMC II (1984), 699 Artemis 1021.
134
Cf. Christou (1968:61–77); cf. also Keller (1887:293–4).
92 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
over which the potnia theron otherwise asserts her dominance: they are the
migratory birds that visit Greece for periods of time, and not the tame,
white geese that populated the yards of Classical Athenians. Likewise, it is
not just the goose but frequently also the swan that appears in Artemis’
company in the Early Classical period, a wild bird that only she as the
goddess of the wild can tame. As regards actual goose sacrifices, our only
possible hint is a passage in Pausanias (7.18.12) that describes a sacrificial
ritual in the sanctuary of Artemis Laphria in Achaia, during which ‘the
people throw alive upon the altar edible birds and every kind of victim as
well’, including (rather ambitiously and surely impractically) boars, deer,
wolf and bear cubs. As has been suggested recently by Pirenne-Delforge,
this holocaustic ritual is most likely an Augustan reconstruction of what
may originally have been a more ‘regular’ thysia of animals supplemented
by first-fruits and hunters’ prey; if the ‘edible birds’ included geese, we
could thus reconstruct a thysia of geese and deer for Artemis Laphria,
though this remains highly speculative.135
To complicate matters further, one could even doubt whether the deity
with the torches is the main recipient of the sacrifice at all. Not only is it
unusual that the recipient deity should stand behind the procession and be
rendered in such low relief, but a closer look actually reveals that the relief is
broken on the left and that the left border is not its original edge. It would
therefore be possible to reconstruct a further deity, or deities, being present
to the left of the altar: could the (preserved) standing figure thus be
Persephone, accompanying – as on some votive reliefs – her mother
Demeter, or indeed Hekate, with both Demeter and Persephone repre-
sented on the other side of the altar?136 Such an interpretation seems
unlikely on iconographical grounds, as the extremely high altar would
function as a veritable barrier between deity and worshippers. Yet there is
indeed some (slight) osteological evidence for geese being sacrificed to
Demeter, or at any rate being consumed in sacred meals in Demeter
sanctuaries: a bone from a white-fronted goose (anser albifrons) was
found in a late first or second century ad food debris context in a cistern
in the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore in Corinth,137 and, as mentioned
above, goose bones, again not burnt, were recovered in the Classical/

135
Pirenne-Delforge (2006). For the practice of including hunted wild animals or parts thereof into
sacrificial meals and its attestation by osteological evidence, see also Ekroth (2007).
136
Cf. e.g. the fourth century bc Athenian votive relief Athens, National Archaeological Museum 1016:
van Straten (1995:291 no. R68, fig. 82).
137
Lot 2109, bone lot 64–31, from the Middle Terrace Cistern 1964–1 in the Roman Stoa; I am grateful
to David Reese for this information.
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 93
Hellenistic sanctuary of Demeter at Mytilene,138 alongside bones from
domestic chickens, partridges and pigeons/doves, hare, bear as well as –
interestingly – deer.139 We may remember, moreover, the Boiotian river
nymph Herkyna, whose name appears as an epithet of Demeter in some
sources,140 and whose story is told by Pausanias (9.39.3) in order to explain
why the statue of Herkyna in her temple near Lebadeia showed her as
a maiden holding a goose:141 ‘They say that here Herkyna, when playing
with Kore, the daughter of Demeter, held a goose which against her will
she let loose. The bird flew into a hollow cave and hid under a stone; Kore
entered and took the bird as it lay under the stone. The water flowed, they
say, from the place where Kore took up the stone, and hence the river
received the name of Herkyna.’
The passage underlines the recurrent theme of the goose’s association
with water, albeit here (more realistically) a river rather than the sea, and
suggests that for Demeter, too, an association with the goose rested in the
bird’s aquatic habitat – if perhaps more in relation to agricultural fertility
and grain (grain which, not least, also fattens geese) rather than maritime
mobility. In this context, we might even bring a further pair of Aiginetan
deities into the equation, the local goddesses Damia and Auxesia, who were
worshipped at Oea on Aigina since at least the fifth century bc. As deities
related in character to the realm of Demeter and Persephone, to grain,
growth and the averting of drought, but also to the island’s developing
networks of economic relations, goose sacrifices would not seem entirely
out of place for them, either.142
Isis, Hekate, Artemis, Demeter/Persephone, Damia/Auxesia: it seems
that the patchy evidence does not allow us at present to name the deity on

138
Ruscillo (1993:201–10, esp. 206–7).
139
Ruscillo (1993); see also Larson, this volume (Chapter 2). Burnt partridge bones are known from the
Phoenician sanctuary at Kommos in the later seventh century bc: Reese (2000b:565).
140
Lykoph, Alex. 153; Hesych. s.v. ‘Herkenia’.
141
On Herkyna, whose cult was related to that of Demeter and a nearby chthonic cult of Zeus, and her
possible representations, see Pipili (1990); Larson (1995:85–6); Bonnechère (2003:299–304) (with
a discussion of the meaning of geese, highlighting their link with [natural and human] fertility,
humidity and chthonian aspects); Rocchi (2004:106–7). Cf. also Couchoud (1923:256–7); Metzger
(1979:65–6). There is, however, a certain confusion/overlap with images of Leda and the swan:
L. Kahil in LIMC VI (1992), 232–3, Leda 8–14. In a Boiotian context one may also note a sixth
century bc sacrificial procession towards Athena’s altar on a Boiotian lekanis that features a rather
indistinct bird sitting on the altar, but neither is this characterised as a sacrificial animal nor can we
be sure about its identification as a goose: London, British Museum GR 1879,1004.1 (Vase B 80),
discussed in detail by Schmidt (2002:51–6). Cf. also above, n. 121.
142
IG IV 1588; Hdt. 5.83.2; Paus. 2.30.4; cf. Welter (1962:94–5), and especially Kowalzig (2010:138–41).
Aphrodite, too, is known to have been worshipped on Aigina as a harbour deity: Paus. 2.29.6; cf.
Kowalzig (2010:168–9).
94 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
the relief with certainty. Moreover: could it be that we are asking the
wrong – or at least the less crucial – question? One might argue that it is not
so much a deity’s name but rather the way a ritual is situated in the
framework of Greek animal sacrifice, and the way a sacrificial animal is
related to a cultic, economic and semantic context, that is instructive.
From this perspective a pattern has clearly emerged. The sacrifice by
two mariners (?) of an animal with strong aquatic/marine connotations
suggests a community depending on the sea and, perhaps, engaging with
the wider Mediterranean world – conditions such as would invariably
have been ritualised in a community’s cultic systems.143 On Aigina, the
local cults of Aphaia and of Damia and Auxesia would have played their
role in such a sea-oriented cultic system as much as that of maritime
Hekate or indeed any potential cults of Artemis or even Isis – similar to
the way that in rural inland Boiotia it would more likely have been the
agricultural plain and its water supply – fundamental to the local ecolo-
gical and economic system – that dominated the local pantheon via the
local cults of Demeter, Kore, Herkyna and perhaps other deities.
Whichever deity precisely received the Aiginetan goose and deer sacrifice,
it was the specific symbolic connotations of the goose that influenced its
choice as a sacrificial animal for a deity and occasion where these were
appropriate – a link with water, rivers and sea, and a domesticated nature
only just superseding wild origins.

From the Nursery onto the Altar? Geese and the Alimentary
Systems of Greece
Sacrificial animals, like votive offerings, are part of a complex process in
which many factors play a role – the nature of local cult and socio-
economic conditions, pan-hellenic (or even pan-Mediterranean) percep-
tions of the deity to whom the offering is made and the dedicant’s
economic means. The choice of an animal for sacrifice, however, was
subject also to one further particular consideration: their status and role
in the alimentary system of Greece. I have touched upon this aspect
repeatedly in connection with the birds discussed earlier, but for the
goose it is even more pertinent. Here we are, of course, in the territory of
scholars such as Vernant and others of the Paris School, who have done
much to clarify the embeddedness of animal sacrifice in local systems of
production and consumption and who have highlighted in particular the

143
Kowalzig (2010).
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 95
conceptual dichotomy of domestic/civilised and wild/uncivilised as crucial
in restricting human-divine commensality in the Greek polis to animals
bred and kept by humans.144 These fundamental tenets are reviewed,
challenged and developed further in a number of contributions in the
present volume, and our discussion of goose sacrifice provides a further
opportunity to re-assess their validity by examining the status of birds in
this conceptual framework.
As we have seen earlier, by the time chickens appear as sacrificial animals
in the later fifth century bc, they were common domestic fowl in Greece,
and hence part of a local cultural/semantic and alimentary system. For
geese, it seems, the situation is similar. Certainly the large white geese that
appear in (Early) Classical imagery in the company of women and god-
desses are clearly of the domesticated variety, domestication being known
to turn the greylag’s plumage white.145 We cannot say exactly when this
first happened in Greece; there is evidence for domesticated geese already
in the Bronze Age, if not earlier, but at the same time we observe that in
seventh century bc imagery (both in animal friezes and in connection with
the Mistress/Master of the Animals) geese are, more often than not,
characterised as wild and indicative of the untamed natural world.146
Indeed, while the Iliad mentions primarily wild geese, tame white geese
appear repeatedly and explicitly in the Odyssey. Most conspicuous in this
context is Penelope’s tale (19.536–7): ‘I have twenty geese about the house
that eat mash [soaked grain] out of a trough, and of which I am exceedingly
fond.’ In the interpretation of Penelope’s dream, these geese are later
explained as symbolic of the suitors in her house. Keeping geese was thus
not unheard of in Archaic aristocratic households, and Homer specifically
characterises geese as Penelope’s favourite ‘pets’, thus setting a precedent
for the goose’s long service in Greece as a symbol of wifely virtues of
fidelity, affection, beauty and guardianship of house and offspring, noted
earlier.147

144
Cf. Larson, this volume (Chapter 2). The arguments are supported by ancient sources such as the
famous passage in Julian’s Hymn to the Mother of the Gods, 176d–77a, according to which in most
important sacrifices where gods share the table with humans, fish are not sacrificed, because they are
not bred and kept by humans.
145
Villing (2008); on the domestication of geese (first attested in Egypt), cf. Blench and MacDonald
(2000:529–30).
146
Cf. above ns. 84, 116, 145.
147
Compared to horses or cattle, but also birds such as owls or eagles, geese are relatively rarely
mentioned in Homer, but in terms of frequency of references are more or less on a par with rock
doves and more common than the likes of cranes or swallows: Voultsiadou and Tatolas (2005).
96 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
However, geese were presumably kept not just as pets but also for their
eggs, which are mentioned in literary sources since the seventh
century bc.148 Geese formed part of the economy of individual households
and – as in the sacred estates of Delos – sanctuaries alike. Like other
barnyard fowl, they were relatively affordable by comparison with larger
mammals and thus lent themselves to smaller-scale family sacrifices
(a goose nowadays would be expected to feed eight to ten diners). At the
same time their economic value should not be underestimated: as Aesop’s
fable of the goose laying golden eggs (89 Hausrath) suggests, a goose kept
for eggs could be a prized possession among the less well-off.149
In wealthier circles it was the goose’s meat – and liver – that came to be
valued from the late fifth century bc onwards.150 References to the delights
of fatted, stuffed and roasted geese, as well as goose liver, in Athenian stage
plays form part of the contemporary discourse on tryphe and are preserved
especially, as so often, in tantalising if not unproblematic quotations
by Athenaios.151 At about the same time, in the late fifth/early fourth

148
Semonides (fr. 11 B = Athen. 2.57d); Epicharmus (fr. 152 = Athen. 2.57d).
149
One might also cite here a papyrus from Roman Egypt that gives 40 drachmas as the value of
a sitting goose, equivalent to the price of 20 hens or a labourer’s monthly salary; Drexhage considers
this an exceptionally high price, suggesting 10 drachmas as a more conservative, minimum estimate,
equivalent to a labourer’s weekly salary: Drexhage (2001b:15). See also above, n. 78.
150
Or possibly earlier, as Aesop 277 (Hausrath (1959)) suggests. For geese in Roman and later culture,
see Albarella (2005).
151
Euripides, for example (Cretan Women, ap. Athen. 14.640b) refers to Atreus serving goose morsels
alongside fish, veal, tartlets and cakes to Thyestes (though the passage is disputed and it has been
suggested that the original text might refer to lamb rather than goose). Other passages include ‘I bring
on a goose so puffed up it is as big as the wooden horse’ (Diphilos, around 300 bc); ‘But supposing
that someone took and stuffed him up for me like a fattened goose’ (Epigenes’ Bakchis, mid fourth
century bc); ‘And prepare a fattened gosling with it, roasting that also simply’ (Archestratos’ Life of
Luxury, around 330 bc); ‘Unless you have the liver or mind of a goose’ (Euboulos’ Wreath-Sellers, c.
360 bc), all quoted in Athen. 9.384. The same passage in Athenaios also contains a reference to raising
geese (chēnoboskoí) from Kratinos’ Dionysalexandros, dating to around 430 bc. Eubuoulos’ Auge
(396 bc, quoted in Athen. 14.622e) recounts how ‘the guests have pulled to pieces hot goslings limb
from limb’. When Anaxandrides in his Protesilaus (fr. 41, 372, quoted in Athen. 4.131) lists little birds,
ducks, ring doves, geese, sparrows, thrushes, larks, jays, swans, pelicans, wagtails and cranes as food
served at dinner he mixes the likely with the outlandish; only slightly more realistic perhaps is
Antiphanes’ menu (fr. 302, quoted in Athen. 2.65e) of ‘partridge, ring dove, ducks, geese, starlings,
jay, jack-dove, black-bird and quail’. Highly elaborate also is the dinner in Mnesimachos’ Horse-
Breeder (quoted in Athen. 9.403c), which includes goose, pork, beef, lamb, mutton, boar, goat,
chicken (alektron), duck, jay and partridge. Euboulos’ reference (Prokris, quoted by Athen. 12.553b) to
‘wheat (chondros) porridge with goose milk’ may refer to goose-grease. Cf. also Xen. Anab. 1.9.26.
Whether goose down and feathers were used in ancient Greece is unclear; they were certainly used for
pillows later in Roman times (e.g. Plin. Nat. 10.51–5). Perhaps the profitable sale of dead geese on
Delos mentioned earlier (n. 86) indicates that the use of goose feathers goes back at least to the
Hellenistic period. On the Athenian discourse on food and luxury, see Davidson (1997); Wilkins
(2000:257–311); for the consumption of goose meat as part of a discourse on proper and measured
behaviour, in the symposion and elsewhere, see also Rocchi (2004).
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 97
century bc, we hear from Hippokrates about goose fat being used in
medical preparations.152 As demand for geese increased, their rearing may
have played an increasing role also in regional economies. According to
Plato (Resp. 264 c), Thessalian nurseries specialised in rearing both geese
and cranes (chēnobōtías ge kaì geranobōtías). Boiotia, too, seems to have
bred geese in its fertile wet plains in the fifth century bc, exporting more
than just its famed Copaic eels: ‘Make excellent commodities flow to our
market, Megarian garlic, early cucumbers, apples, pomegranates and nice
little cloaks for the slaves; make them bring geese, ducks, ringdoves and
wrens from Boiotia and baskets of eels from Lake Copais; we shall all rush
to buy them’ (Ar. Pax 999–1006).153 Similarly, partridges – which appear
equally both as pets and food – are said to have been farmed in enclosures
called perdikotropheia during the time of Hypereides (mid fourth
century bc) and also pigeons, quails, pheasants, mallards and moorhens
[porphyrion] were apparently bred and domesticated; many of them are
mentioned as food, too, albeit only in the context of highly extravagant
dinners.154 Locally bred or imported, birds were thus among the myriad of
goods available on the Athenian Agora for use as pets and food, even if it
seems that their status as a commodity was not quite on a par with the
many varieties of fish that were prized as delicacies in fifth- and fourth-
century comic discourse.155
By the time goose sacrifices are first attested in the fifth century bc, then,
the goose was clearly an integral part of the Greek (or certainly the
Athenian) alimentary system and had acquired a place also in the Greek
mind and imagination. In spite of the lingering association of domestic
geese with wild geese migrating across the seas, a notion that contributed to
the goose’s powerful marine symbolism, goose sacrifices thus appear to
conform to the general rule of the domesticated character of Greek sacri-
ficial animals.

152
Fist. 7.20; Haem. 9.3; Ulc. 21.4, Superf. 33.1 and several passages in Mul. and Nat.Mul. On the
medicinal uses of various goose products in antiquity, see also Olck (1910:718–21); Bodson and
Marcolungo (1994:45–6).
153
Geese from Boiotia are also mentioned alongside ducks, jackdaws, francolins, coots, plovers, grebes,
hares, oregano and pennyroyal in Ar. Ach. 878.
154
Perdikotropheia: Hypereides, fr. 45 Jensen, ap. Pollux, O. 10.159; other birds: Dalby (1996:63), cf.
Athen. 9.394c, 388c. Artemidoros’ Dictionary of Cookery (Athen. 14.663d–e) refers to a mattye (a
course during dinner) of birds/chicken (ornithos) as well to cooking guinea hens and young
cockerels, and a fragment of Menippos’ Arkesilaos (Athen. 664e) mentions partridges and roasted
geese as part of the mattye in a Lakonian dinner; the latter passage is discussed in detail by Rocchi
(2004). Euboulos and Nikostratos (Athen. 2.65d), finally, refer to meals including ringdoves,
thrushes, finches, blackbirds and ducks.
155
On the great variety of birds eaten by ancient Greeks, see Dalby (1996:63–5).
98 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
Ritual, Commensality and Symbolism: Bird Sacrifices
in Ancient Greece
As sacrificial animals, geese, chickens and other birds were clearly not on
a par with the main sacrificial mammals; nevertheless, they significantly
complement our picture of Greek sacrificial rites. Their position in the
Greek sacrificial system was determined by a complex interplay of both
their status in local alimentary and economic/ecological systems (part of
the horizontal communication among human participants of sacrifice),
and their symbolic connotations (part of the vertical communication
between sacrificer and divine recipient), which linked them with certain
concepts and divine personalities or traits more so than is the case for the
seemingly ‘normative’ quartet of sacrificial animals.
Birds, like fish, were clearly less suitable for classic large-scale alimentary
commensality at polis-wide festivals with their well-known core of bovine,
sheep, goat and pig sacrifices – the latter required a large mammal to be
sacrificed and divided among gods and humans so as to perform the dual
role of petitioning the gods and of enhancing social and political cohesion
among the feasting group. By contrast, birds seem predestined for non-
commensal high-intensity and purificatory sacrifices, such as became
increasingly popular after the Hellenistic period, as well as for small (and
relatively cheap) commensal sacrifices performed on more private occa-
sions, where more individual concerns could be expressed.
In spite of these peculiarities, bird sacrifices largely conform to what
appears to be a fundamental pattern of Greek ritual practice, its integra-
tion into local alimentary systems. This can be seen most clearly when
looking at which species of bird were normally sacrificed, be it in
commensal thysiai, as ‘supplementary’ food for ritual meals, or in high-
intensity destructive rites. The choice is restricted to those birds that
were (more or less) domesticated and (more or less) part of human diet,
i.e. the classic farm animals goose and chicken, but also semi-
domesticated birds like doves and partridges. In addition, goose sacri-
fices begin to be attested from a time when geese have acquired a certain
economic role and status in conspicuous consumption. The earliest
instances of cock sacrifices, too, date to this same period, a time when
chickens were no longer an exotic oddity or aristocratic plaything, but
common farmyard animals.
Much the same pattern also seems to apply in Greece’s neighbouring
cultures. In Egypt, the geese, ducks and other birds that were sacrificed
were domesticated or semi-domesticated, i.e. caught in the wild and then
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 99
raised in enclosures.156 In Hurrian-Luwian and Hittite ritual – of which
Greek cultic practice is known to be an heir in many ways – only edible
domesticated birds, and in fact especially geese, were sacrificed. This practice
is attested at least since the sixteenth century bc, notably in the North Syrian
and South Anatolian region. Here, geese were usually a part of burnt
offerings (ambašši) in expiatory rituals that could also include other animals
like lambs and goats and that were associated with katharsis, not unlike some
Greek high-intensity sacrifices, though they appear also in blood libations
and food offerings.157 Interestingly, in the Old Testament birds – doves or
pigeons – appear as burnt as well as ‘sin’ offerings (where the bird is
consumed by the priest), mostly being given by poorer people, thus fitting
in with the recurrent theme of the interdependence between economic
considerations and choice of sacrificial animal.158 Yet, looking more widely
at the practice of bird sacrifice in other ancient cultures, we also find some
differences: Greek sacrificial practice for example, seems to lack a concept of
a wider cosmic symbolic value embodied in sacrificial animals, unlike, as has
been argued, seventh-century bc Assyria, where bulls, sheep, birds and fishes
may have connoted the cosmic realms of earth, sky and ocean.159
Does the fact that seemingly only domesticated edible birds were ever
sacrificed also imply the reverse, i.e. could such birds only ever be eaten as
part of a sacrifice? If animal sacrifice is interpreted as ritualised slaughter,
and if the only civilised way of eating domesticated animals is by way of
sacrifice, then the same rules should indeed apply to birds and any other
domesticated animals that were eaten – and certainly to domesticated birds
that were consumed in the context of the Classical polis. However, as
Ekroth has pointed out (and as is confirmed, from a different perspective,
by Larson in the present volume (Chapter 2)), there was a certain flexibility
in what constituted the proper, necessary ritual once one moved beyond
the bovine-ovicaprine-suine quartet. Indeed, the osteological evidence

156
Cf. above, ns. 92 and 93. Greek thysia, though, differed substantially from Egyptian offerings as the
latter lacked the element of wider human commensality and served to provide meals primarily to
a god, his priests or – in the case of tomb offerings – the deceased. We may note, however, that an
argument for greater hierarchical differentiation in the distribution of sacrificial meat has also been
made for the Greek world: Naiden (2012).
157
Haas (1994:658–64); Minunno (2013); cf. also Strauss (2006:41, 94, 114–15, 135, 155, 275, 301, 322);
Mouton in this volume (Chapter 10). I am grateful to Ian Rutherford for pointing out these
connections and references.
158
Minunno (2013:93–107); see e.g. Leviticus 14.22: ‘The offering must also include two turtledoves or
two young pigeons, whichever the person can afford. One of the pair must be used for the sin
offering and the other for a burnt offering’; cf. also Leviticus 14.4, where the birds to be sacrificed are
sometimes interpreted as sparrows.
159
Cf. Maul (2008).
100 a l e xa n d r a v i ll i n g
discussed above strongly suggests that in some instances birds formed part
of the phenomenon of adding animals such as dogs, fish and sometimes
wild animals to the sacrificial feast without a full thysia ritual (and perhaps
even consuming them outside a sacrifice without any rites?).160 Moreover,
as birds were hardly suited to the regular rituals of burning certain portions
of the animal, such as the tail, their sacrifice clearly had to follow different
rules, and, as texts and bone finds suggest, they were more suited as
supplements to sacrificial meals or at secular feasts – such as the cocks
served at the symposion just after they had been sacrificed to Herakles
(Quaest. conv. 6.10.1) or slaughtered in a thysia specifically for a household
feast (Aelian NA 5.28).
The commodification of birds in Classical Athens, and their popularity in
elaborate Greek dinners, suggests that birds could be killed and consumed
with minimal rites only, such as were performed at small domestic sacrifices,
and perhaps sometimes even without any. This seemingly less stringent
approach to the consumption of bird meat may be partly connected with
a lower position of birds in a perceived hierarchy of being, but is best
explained in economic terms. If we believe that one central aspect of animal
sacrifice was that it constituted the surrender of (communal or personal)
wealth to a deity in the form of a ‘gift’, and that the sacralisation of meat
consumption was ultimately related to the status of meat as a highly valued
and limited resource, the lower value of geese and other birds entailed a lesser
need for the ritualisation of meat distribution, and hence perhaps a different
threshold for what would have been deemed proper and acceptable praxis.
The study of bird sacrifice in ancient Greece thus underlines the close link
that existed between animal husbandry and sacrificial practice and empha-
sises the social and economic embeddedness of Greek sacrificial ritual. At the
same time, birds – together with fish, game or dogs – occupy a borderline
position, where full traditional sacrificial rites were not, or indeed could not,
be obeyed, thus further destabilising the notion that ‘standard’ sacrificial rites
were the only way of eating meat in ancient Greece. Rather like votive
offerings, bird sacrifices reveal much more explicitly than the ‘regular’
sacrificial animals the symbolic power inherent in the ‘gift’ of an animal.161
It seems that when a bird was chosen as sacrificial animal, typically as an
individual offering, this choice was often influenced by the animal’s sym-
bolic connotations usually based on a species’ character, habitat and history,
160
Ekroth (2007:208). Even though there may have been different degrees of sacredness/ritualisation,
Ekroth (ibid., 254–5) argues that there never was such a thing as a purely ‘secular’ slaughtering of
animals, a supposition that Parker (2010c; 2011:131) appears to disagree with.
161
On sacrificial animals as symbols, see also recently Parker (2011:133–7).
 Don’t Kill the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg? 101
which in turn determined an animal’s appropriateness for a certain ritual.162
Hence, for the goose it was its role as a water bird that was essential and that
could operate on multiple levels: aquatic associations with (underground)
springs placed it in the realm of the Nymphs or the ‘chthonic’ world of
Demeter and Persephone, while its habitat in river deltas close to the sea and
its migratory habits (at least in origin) of crossing the seas gave rise to
connotations of seafaring and marine travel and enabled associations with
the likes of Hekate, Isis and Aphrodite.163 In the case of the cock, its liminal
character (foreign origins, link with the transition from night to day) and its
virile and aggressive behaviour made it particularly suitable for offerings to
male heroes and healing deities, and for magical rites. The special appro-
priateness or resemblance between sacrificial animal and divine recipient
enhanced the effectiveness of the gift, and of the communication between
human and god.
It has been argued by Georgoudi164 that matters of economy, prestige and
ecosystem are more likely to impact on the choice of sacrificial animal than the
personality of the divine recipient, making a special association between
certain deities and certain sacrificial animals a problematic concept.
The present study supports the centrality of the former factors in many
ways; however, in so far as cults and divine personalities are themselves an
integral part of any social and economic system and shaped by them, there is
perhaps no need to postulate a divide here: as far as birds are concerned, divine
personality, in all its fluidity, is clearly a factor in the complex equation.
Finally, the study of bird sacrifice highlights the fact that sacrificial
practices were by no means static but subject to constant change.
A century or two after its establishment in Greek fowlyards, the exotic
cock became a standard offering to Asklepios. Similarly, the increased
commodification and alimentary and economic role of domestic geese
had a direct impact on their use as sacrificial animals, while the Greek
encounter with Egypt was intimately associated with the spread of (holo-
caustic) bird sacrifices in the Hellenistic period. Animal sacrifice in Greece,
from the Archaic to the Roman period, was thus not only fundamentally
embedded in local economic and social conditions, but also continuously
evolved along with them.

162
Cf. also Graf (2002:119); and Zografou (2011:163), who equally notes the high symbolic value of bird
sacrifices and an exceptional affinity between sacrificial animal and deity.
163
A similar divine spread with maritime links (Hekate, Aphrodite, Priapos) is also observed in relation
to fish sacrifice, see Lefèvre-Novaro (2010:40–1).
164
Georgoudi (2010a).
 part ii
Procedure
 chapter 4

Reflections on Sacrifice and Purification

in the Greek World
Stella Georgoudi

It is well known and repeatedly suggested that sacrifice is ‘the central ritual of
Greek religion’. Particularly since the late nineteenth century, this important
and polyvalent act, which marks the ritual time of the Greek cities, has
become a regular subject of debates, controversies and theoretical re-
examinations. Surveyed in its whole or its various aspects and practices,
sacrifice covers an integral part of books on the religion of the Greeks, usually
as the basic or exclusive material in different works on this topic.1 Each era or
intellectual trend has more or less developed one theory on sacrifice, often
based on only one aspect or element of the sacrificial procedure, as the most
relevant. This theory is presented, even unconsciously, as general, accounting
for all kinds of sacrifice, independently of time or space.
Considering historiography, all these attempts to offer a general theore-
tical interpretation of Greek sacrificial rituals are undoubtedly very inter-
esting and instructive. I had the chance to contribute to The Cuisine of
Sacrifice among the Greeks, a collective book edited by Marcel Detienne and
Jean-Pierre Vernant,2 an intellectually exciting adventure. I must admit
that, even notwithstanding its importance, impact or innovative proposi-
tions, this work did not totally avoid the pitfall of generalizations, which
inevitably become a source of errors.
This is why, a long time after its publication, it seems meaningful to
reconsider The Cuisine of Sacrifice, in order to re-examine some ideas and
assertions developed in this work. This re-examination has become all the
more necessary, even inevitable, as our study on Greek sacrifice had been
based essentially on literary sources, leaving aside important information from
inscriptions, more varied and diversified iconography3 or from the abundant

1
See most recently Parker (2011:124–70) (Chapter 5: ‘Killing, Dining, Communicating’).
2
Detienne and Vernant (1979) (with essays also by Jean-Louis Durand, Jesper Svenbro, François
Hartog and Stella Georgoudi).
3
For instance, in The Cuisine of Sacrifice we privileged a certain number of images, ‘compatible’ with
the sacrificial model developed there. Consequently, we left aside a series of different iconographical

105
106 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
archaeological evidence recently increased by significant osteological
material.4 A new valuable instrument nowadays, required in the interpreta-
tion of Greek sacrificial practices, osteology must nevertheless not become in
its turn a source of generalizations, as literary evidence did. For example,
concerning the controversial meaning of mêria or mêroi in Greek animal
sacrifice (‘thighs’ or ‘thigh bones’?), osteology is of little help, as it has been
rightly noted, ‘since bones burnt to the state of carbonization or calcination
do not reveal whether they were placed in the fire bare or covered with meat’.5
It is not my intention to repeat here the long discussions and the
arguments developed during the ‘revisiting’ of our positions in
The Cuisine of Sacrifice. I have already tried (Georgoudi (2005a)) to expose
some of these discussions, reflections or new propositions in another
collective book which, however, is placed in a larger perspective; it includes
comparative studies on sacrifice, concerning not only the Greek and
Roman worlds, but also some other Mediterranean cultures.6 More
recently, I attempted to give a summary account of these problems, as an
introduction to a paper on the relations between gods and sacrificial
animals. From this point of view, and for better understanding the ‘inti-
macy’ between a divine receiver and a victim, I took as an example the
sacrificial bond linking Zeus and the piglet.7
In this chapter, I intend to deal as much as possible with the problem of
the relation, in some cases, between sacrifice and purification, and the
meaning of what is usually called ‘purificatory sacrifice’. This problem will
be deliberately preceded, schematically and very rapidly, by another ques-
tion to which I have referred on other occasions. As a matter of fact, besides
the inclination for generalizations, there exists another tendency towards

evidence (vases and reliefs) which could have directed the research towards different conclusions
concerning, for example, our theories of the ‘concealment of violence’, or of the ‘consenting’ victim
in Greek blood sacrifice (cf. note 6, and the judicious remarks of Mehl (2000)).
4
See Hägg (1998a), one of the first scholars who raised the question of osteological evidence in the
study of Greek sacrifice. See now Ekroth and Wallensten (2013).
5
Ekroth (2009:128) (italics are mine). Notwithstanding this precautionary formulation, Ekroth adopts
more willingly the meaning of ‘thigh bones’. However, I think that the question remains open and,
for different reasons (as from the point of view of the Greek terminology), I prefer for the moment
the conclusions drawn by Berthiaume (2005) in his renovated, well-balanced examination of
the mêria. The idea that mêria signifies in principle ‘thigh bones’ is so predominant, that even the
word kôla (upper parts of the legs, hams), burnt by Prometheus as the god’s portion in Aeschylus (PV
496–7), is translated ‘thigh bones’ in the Loeb edition of the tragedy, a translation adopted, for
example, by Griffith (1983:175–6).
6
Georgoudi, Koch Piettre and Schmidt (2005). On this research and more particularly on the theme
of the ‘willing’ sacrificial victim, see also Naiden (2007) and Georgoudi (2008).
7
Georgoudi (2010a). This example is part of a larger inquiry into the sacrificial relation between gods
and newborn or young animals.
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 107
a classification, a division of Greek sacrifices. I am not referring to the
never-ending discussion about the ‘Olympian’/‘Chthonian’ sacrificial
ritual,8 but to a kind of binary distinction proposed by some scholars,
who consider that Greek sacrifices should be classified into two general
categories, each given various names by scholars: on the one hand, ‘nor-
mal’, ‘ordinary’, ‘regular’, ‘usual’, ‘standard’ sacrifices based on ‘common
practice’; on the other, sacrifices qualified as ‘abnormal’, ‘unusual’, ‘extra-
ordinary’, ‘marginal’, ‘non-standard’, as ‘powerful forms of action’, ‘high-
light modifications’, or as ‘deviations’ from the sacrificial ‘normality’.
Scholars more or less agree on the main elements in the so-called
‘normal’, ‘ordinary’, ‘regular’, etc. sacrifices: the procession, the prayers,
the libations, the offering of grains or cakes, the killing of the animal, the
burning of certain parts on the altar, the eating of the roasted splanchna,
followed by the consumption of the meat in situ, or by the distribution of
meat, and even by selling the meat raw. Minor consensus exists on what
could be defined as ‘abnormal’, ‘unusual’, ‘extraordinary’, ‘distorted’ or
‘deviant’ actions or sacrificial rites. One usually mentions, within this
group, holocausts, sacrifices to the dead or to heroes, oath-sacrifices, the
killing of an animal before battle, purification rites as those discussed
below, but also human sacrifice. Michael Jameson formulates clearly this
binary conception of sacrificial ritual, especially with regard to opposition
‘normal’/‘deviant’: ‘To destroy all the victim by fire, that is, holocaust, was
an exceptional and vivid expression of deviation from the norm . . . Burning
some parts and eating the rest . . . was characteristic of normal sacrifice;
burning all or disposing of the dead animal in some other way character-
ized types of powerful actions’.9
I do not consider this kind of binary classification as particularly helpful
for our comprehension of Greek sacrifices and purifications, which were
characterized by a variety and a complexity of ritual, often hard for us to
perceive. In addition, this kind of statement may raise more problems than
it resolves. What, in any case, is ‘normal’ for the Greeks? How do we
identify a ‘norm’ within our different ancient source material, concerning
sacrifices and purifications?10 The holocaust, for example, considered by

8
See Parker (2011:80–4, 283–6) (with references to earlier studies).
9
Jameson (1988b:968–9). For Fritz Graf (2002:117), who thinks that ‘one should reconstruct an ideal
type’ of sacrifice, the tendency of ritual signs is ‘to function in a binary way’. Thus, the sacrifice ‘as
communication by ritual signs is interesting on two levels: on the basic level of the ideal type . . . and
on the level of deviation from this model’ (italics are mine).
10
I do not intend here to touch, even lightly, the question of ‘norms’, ‘normativity’, ‘normality’ in
Greek religion, a subject that has inspired some recent studies. See Brulé (2009); Georgoudi (2010b).
108 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
many scholars as a ‘total destruction of the victim’, is usually ranged among
the ‘unusual’ actions.11 It should, by the way, be mentioned, that the very
term ‘destruction sacrifice’ has been called into question by Jesper Svenbro
(2005). According to his analysis, the combustion of an entire animal, or of
shares intended for gods or heroes, does not mean that the victim is wholly
or partly ‘destroyed’ or ‘annihilated’. It is rather communicated, by means
of combustion, to the supernatural recipients. On the other side, holo-
causts, which must not be related only to a chthonian context or to powers
of chthonian nature, are sometimes performed within the so-called ‘nor-
mal’ or ‘regular’ sacrifices, as is shown by certain sacrificial calendars (from
Kos, Thoricos or Erchia, of the genos of the Salaminioi etc.). I do not mean
that I have the solution to this extremely complicated problem. I would
like only to point out that the important poikilia of Greek sacrificial and
purificatory practices should make us careful with regard to sharp and
dogmatic distinctions or classifications of our evidence.

‘Purificatory’/ ‘Cathartic Sacrifice’

Let us now come to the main problem stated in this chapter, concerning
the association between sacrifice and purification; and particularly the
sense of the expression ‘purificatory’ or ‘cathartic sacrifice’, often used in
a repetitive manner.12 Before going further, it may be asked whether the
Greeks themselves were familiar with such an expression. As far as the
vocabulary is concerned, it seems – even if another inquiry is necessary –
that the term ‘purificatory sacrifice’ is both rare and late. It is found, for
example, in Dionysius of Halicarnassus and concerns Rome: he mentions
the ‘supplications made at the statues and altars of gods’ and the ‘purifica-
tory sacrifices’ (καθαρτήριοι θυσίαι) performed in Rome, on behalf of the
state and of private households suffering from a pestilential disease.13
To appease ‘divine anger’ (χόλος δαιμόνων), considered as the source of
such a calamity, cathartic sacrifices were thus indicated, but the modalities
of this action combining θυσία and καθαρμός are not described. However,
despite the fact that this formula is quasi-absent from Greek vocabulary,
11
Cf. Scullion (1994:95), who calls holocaust and other forms of ‘destruction’ of the animal ‘renuncia-
tory’ sacrifices.
12
Cf. for example, the classic work of Moulinier (1952:87, 91, 107 etc.) (Moulinier remarks also
prudently on p. 110: ‘il est dangereux de parler du sacrifice cathartique et . . . il faut encore moins
chercher à déterminer sa forme’). In his equally renowned book, Rudhardt (1958) uses the expression
‘sacrifices cathartiques’ or ‘sacrifices à des fins cathartiques’ (Index, s.v. Purifications).
13
Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 9.40.1–2 (there is no reason to translate as ‘expiatory sacrifices’ as in the Loeb
edition).
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 109
sometimes an equivalent expression can be found, denoting the connection
between sacrifice and purification, as ‘sacrifice (θύειν) a καθάρσιον’,14 or
perform ‘a sacrifice mingled with purification’.15 I am not sure if the verb
ἐκθύομαι denotes a ‘cathartic sacrifice’.16 The context of different passages,
where this verb or its derivative terms appear, indicates rather the idea of
‘expiate, expiation’, than of ‘purify, purification’, even if these two notions
are very related.17 Consequently the ἱεροποιοὶ ἐπὶ τὰ ἐκθύματα in Athens
would be the ten officials ‘in charge of the expiatory sacrifices’, often
prescribed by oracles.18
I certainly do not intend to present a description of sacrificial or
purificatory rituals here. I would like only to point out some assertions
and ideas, which, by dint of repetition in different studies, become a kind
of stereotype of self-evident formulae accepted by many scholars. To begin
with, I generally agree with the approach of Robert Parker in Miasma:
‘In theory sacrifice and purification may seem to be distinct operations, the
one intended to appease a deity and the other to efface an impersonal
pollution. In practice, what is spoken of as purification often takes the form
of a sacrifice, while the effects of divine anger, at least when it manifests
itself as a disease, can sometimes be washed away.’19 This observation may
be right in its general aspect. As a matter of fact, in Greek cult, we have
often to do with an ‘array of practices that resemble one another in varying
degrees and, again in varying degrees, are described in similar terms’.20
During sacrifices or purifications, people can make the same gestures, make
libations with the same materials, invoke gods in the same way, kill animals
in the same manner. I wonder whether some purificatory actions acquire
a certain autonomy, in respect of sacrifices, even if they imply the ritual
killing of an animal. I wonder also whether, in certain cases, we are not to
distinguish, in the same purificatory context, between on the one hand,
different purifying rites and, on the other, sacrifices offered immediately
after, not in the aim of cleansing, but for other purposes. In these specific
cases, I think that the expression ‘purificatory sacrifice’ is rather inappropri-
ate. Finally, as already mentioned, purification rites are assigned to the

14
Paus. 1.34.5 (see below).
15
Plut. Quest. Graec. 12, Mor. 293E: μεμειγμένην τινὰ καθαρμῷ θυσίαν.
16
As suggested by Parker (1983:10 n. 42).
17
See also Casabona (1966:96–7), who translates literally ‘faire disparaître au moyen d’un sacrifice’ and
remarks that the sense of ‘cathartic sacrifice’ is very late.
18
Arist. Ath. Pol. 54.6, with the remarks of Rhodes (1981:605–6).
19
Parker (1983:10). I am largely in debt to this fundamental study, even when it happens to diverge
somehow from the opinions of its author.
20
Parker (2011:155).
110 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
category of ‘unusual’, ‘extraordinary’, ‘powerful actions’ by scholars. Why
should a ‘cathartic sacrifice’ be defined as a ‘powerful action’? It has been
suggested that in the case, for example, of purifications, pre-battle or oath
sacrifices, the ‘power’ would reside ‘in the killing itself’, considered as
‘unquestionably central to the slaughter-sacrifice’.21 Thus, terms such as
σφάζω, σφάττω, σφαγιάζω (slaughter), σφάγιον (slaughter-victim),
which put the accent on the manner and hence on the act of killing,
would be very important in the context of these ‘powerful actions’.
However, as far as purifications are concerned, these terms do not seem
preponderant or exclusive. The animals (often piglets) put to death for
purificatory purposes can be ‘slaughtered’ (σφάζω),22 but also ‘killed’
(κτείνω).23 Sometimes, they are called σφάγια, but they are also designated
by the names of καθάρσια (frequently), or καθάρματα.24 It could be stated
that, in purificatory rituals, the accent is not so much on the act of killing an
animal, but rather on the manipulation of its body and on the use of its
blood as washing agent (see below).

Selective Examples
Back to our problem, in order to illustrate, as far as possible, these ques-
tions, I would like to focus on some selective examples, which could be
enlarged through a more thorough study.
At Elis, the sixteen distinguished women who wove, every fourth year,
a robe for Hera and organized games at Olympia, called Heraia, seem to
assume duties as important as those of the Hellanodikai, the chief judges at
the Olympic games. This is suggested also by the fact that the two groups,
before any ritual action, ought to purify themselves at the spring Piera with
a ‘piglet meet for purification, and by water’ (Paus. 5.16.8: χοίρῳ τε
ἐπιτηδείῳ πρὸς καθαρμὸν καὶ ὕδατι). This operation should not be
defined as a ‘purificatory sacrifice’, even if it implies, very probably, the
killing of the piglet, so as to use its blood. All the terms in this passage
(καθαρμός, ἀποκαθαίρω, καθάρσια) refer clearly to a purification accom-
plished not only by blood, but also by water, the most widespread cathartic
21
Cf., most recently, Parker (2011: esp. 144, 155, 159, 164).
22
Cf. Schol. Ar. Ach. 44: χοίρου σφαζομένου (slaughtered piglet).
23
Cf. Aesch. Eum. 283: καθαρμοῖς . . . χοιροκτόνοις (purifications by means of killed piglets).
24
See, for example, σφάγια: Polyb. 4.21.9; Ath. 14. 626f; καθάρσια: Aeschin. 1 (In Tim.) 23; App. BCiv.
5.10.96; Paus. 1.34.5; Harp. and Suda, s.v. καθάρσιον etc.; sometimes the term καθάρσια designates
animal victims as well as other materials for purification: Eur. IT 1225 (see below), Plut. Quest. Rom. 68,
Mor. 280C; καθάρματα: Hsch. s.v. κάθαρμα; Schol. Ar. Ach. 44; Schol. Ar. Plut. 454 (referring probably
to the purificatory sacrifice of pharmakoi), cf. Moulinier (1952:110); Clinton (2005:169).
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 111
agent.25 It must be remembered that we are here in a cult context domi-
nated by the Zeus of Olympia, honoured also, in the Altis, under the
epithet of Katharsios, as the pre-eminent god of purification (see below).26
However, there are more complicated and perplexing texts. In the
Oedipus at Colonus, the blind Oedipus, accompanied by his daughter
Antigone, arrives at the Attic demos of Colonos Hippios and walks into
a ‘sacred place’, the grove of Eumenidai, defined as ‘untouched and not
habitable’ (ἄθικτος οὐδ᾽ οἰκητός), ‘untrodden’ (ἀστιβές), ‘speechless,
where no word must be spoken’ (ἄφθεγκτος). By desecrating the grove
of the goddesses, Oedipus commits thus a sacrilege, which must be ‘washed
out’ by a purificatory action. As a matter of fact, the chorus orders Oedipus
to make a ‘purification of these deities’ (καθαρμὸν τῶνδε δαιμόνων),
consisting in a series of elaborated acts executed in fine by his other
daughter, Ismene: three libations, laying of ‘thrice nine olive branches’
on the ground, prayers.27
I will not go into the details of this complicated and controversial ritual,
intended to ‘purify’ not only the Eumenides and their sacred grove, but
also Oedipus polluted by his own sacrilege.28 For our purpose, I will refer
only to one point concerning the sense of this purification. Certain
scholars, indeed, discussing this point, argue about a sacrifice offered to
the Eumenides by Oedipus in order to ‘purify him from the outrage
committed against the goddesses by profaning the grove consecrated to
them’.29 Is this a sacrificial procedure? Can we designate it as a ‘purificatory
sacrifice’? I am not so sure, since in this long passage we find no word of the
family of θύειν (to sacrifice), even if the kind of the libations mentioned,
the χοαί (lit. pouring out a liquid), are often associated with certain
sacrifices.30 In such ambiguous cases, I wonder if we cannot distinguish,
in spite of the possible interference, what kind of action was preponderant
for the Greeks, what kind of character they wanted to assign particularly to
a ritual at a given context.

25
Cf. Parker (1983:226–7) (with references).
26
Pausanias (5.14.8) had seen his altar within the sacred precinct. Cf. Parker (1983:139).
27
Soph. OC 16, 39, 126, 155–6, 461–92.
28
As is suggested by the old men of the chorus, when they say to Oedipus (v. 490–2) that if he
accomplishes this purification, they can willingly ‘stand by’ him (παρασταίην). On the gods who
may be polluted by mortals without suffering by it, see Parker (1983:145–6).
29
As P. Mazon writes in a note commenting on the word καθαρμός (in his edition of Œdipe à Colone,
Collection des Universités de France, Paris, 1960, p. 97). This is also, among others, the opinion of
Winnington-Ingram (1980), who insists twice on the ‘sacrifice to the goddesses’ (265–6), although
he mentions by the way a ‘rite of purification’ (250). Cf. Parker (1983:4) (referring to Soph. OC 466:
‘the sacrifice . . . that remedies the desecration of a sacred grove’ is described as katharmos), 10 n. 42.
30
Cf. Rudhardt (1958:246–8).
112 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
On the other hand, a purification can be, under certain circumstances,
accompanied or followed by a sacrifice. I take my first example from
a passage of the twenty-fourth Idyll of Theocritus. The scene is the house
or palace of Amphitryon and his wife Alcmena, mother of Heracles. This
poem, among other themes, narrates the story of the little Heracles who,
aged ten months, grappled with and strangled, in his cradle, the two snakes
sent by Hera to destroy him. The death of the snakes is the source of
pollution for the house and its members. According to the instructions of
the seer Teiresias, Alcmena’s handmaids burn the bodies of the dead
serpents, gather up the ash and cast it out upon the river beyond their
borders. Next, for the cleansing of the house, they accomplish a series of
operations with pure sulphur, wool, water, salt: materials commonly used
in purificatory rites. Finally, they sacrifice (ἐπιρρέξαι) to Zeus the Superior,
the Highest (καθυπερτέρῳ) a male piglet (ἄρσενα χοῖρον), in order to stay
superior to their enemies.31
This sacrifice is generally designated by scholars as a ‘purificatory
sacrifice’.32 Again, I am not so sure. I think that, in this text, we have
a succession of certain purificatory actions, in order to free the house and its
inhabitants from the pollution caused by the killing of the two snakes.
These actions are followed by a sacrifice practiced in an already purified
place. The verb designating this sacrifice is ἐπιρρέζω, which signifies
‘sacrify or offer besides, furthermore, in addition to’,33 and consequently
afterwards. As is suggested in Theocritus’ text, this sacrifice is not accom-
plished for cathartic reasons. It is offered to the ‘pre-eminent’ Zeus and has
a specific purpose, namely to give to the palace of Amphitryon and its
inhabitants the superiority over the δυσμενεῖς, in the literal sense of the
word, ‘those who bear ill-will’.34 Moreover, if the offer of a piglet to Zeus is
not surprising (see above, p. 106 and note 7), the particular indication of
the animal’s sex is perhaps significant. By putting the accent on the
‘masculinity’ of the victim, one could imply the importance of the male

31
Theocr. Id. 24, esp. 88–100. The sacrificial animal is not a ‘boar-pig’, as is usually translated, for
example, in the Loeb edition, or by Gow (1952, vol. i: 189).
32
Gow (1952, vol. ii: 431) seems to agree with this interpretation, since he says, commenting on χοῖρον
(v. 99), that ‘pigs, though not the only sacrifice used in purifications, are particularly connected with
them’ (italics are mine).
33
Casabona (1966:63–4) puts the accent on the sense of ‘offer’. But the meaning of ‘sacrifice’, although
rare in the inscriptions, is attested in epigraphy (see below).
34
Cf. Aesch. Sept. 226, 234, where we find nearly the same terms about the ‘superior power of god’
(θεοῦ . . . ἰσχὺς καθυπερτέρα) which protects the states and the peoples against the ‘multitude of
those bearing ill-will’ (δυσμενέων . . . ὄχλον). Note that at the outset of this tragedy (v. 8), Zeus
Alexeterios (‘able to keep off, to defend’) is mentioned in the first place, before the other gods.
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 113
force as the only one capable of encountering, with Zeus’s help, the
external dangers.35
The relation between purification and sacrifice, as two actions associated
but distinct, seems more clear in a ‘sacred law’, relative to the cult of
Alectrona, in the Rhodian city of Ialysos.36 At the end of a series of
prohibitions concerning the shrine of this deity, the text declares: ‘if
someone does something contrary to this law, he καθαιρέτω καὶ ἐπιρεζέτω
the shrine and the precinct, otherwise let him be guilty of impiety’ (lines
27–30).
As in the case of Theocritus’ text, it is very likely that these are two
different rites, designated by two different verbs: the person who commits a
transgression of the rules ‘must purify’ (καθαιρέτω) the sacred property
and ‘must sacrifice besides’ (ἐπιρεζέτω).37 Once again, this sacrifice would
not be ‘purificatory’, as is sometimes said. After an infraction of the
religious rules, an act which causes pollution,38 the law prescribes not
only a purification of the sacred place, but also a sacrifice, no doubt
a blood sacrifice, as a kind of penalty for the violation of the established
norms.

Cyrene and Selinus

The questions raised by the inscription of Ialysos can be better illustrated
by the great Cathartic Law of Cyrene (c. 335–324 bce), which provides
a very significant example of distinct ritual practices following one another
closely.39 I point out only one passage, indicative of this succession of
acts:40 ‘If one sacrifices upon the altar a victim that the law does not
[permit] to sacrifice, one must take away the residue of the fat
(potipiamma)41 from the altar and wash it off, and must take up the other

35
Cf. Aesch. Sept. 230–1: for Eteocles, only the men can slaughter animals for the gods and take oracles,
when they encounter enemies.
36
LSCG 136 (c. 300 bce). On the inappropriate term ‘sacred law’, cf. Georgoudi (2010b).
37
Casabona (1966:64) translates loosely: ‘qu’il fasse (en outre?) une offrande’. But the verb ἐπιρρέζω in
the sense of ‘sacrifice’ an animal is clear, for example, at Cos: LSCG 156 B 19, IG XII, 4, 332 B 62.
38
Cf. Parker (1983:144).
39
Among a multitude of studies, I will merely mention Parker (1983:332–51) (with translation and
previous bibliography), and more recently Robertson (2010 (Greek text with translation and up-to-
date bibliography)).
40
Column A 26–31. I follow the Greek text given by Robertson. I translate the Greek text literally,
taking also into account the translations of Parker and Robertson.
41
For the controversial sense of the word ποτιπίαμμα, see DELG s.v. πῖαρ, with the remarks of
Robertson (2010:297). On sacrificing a non-customary victim, cf. Rhodes and Osborne (2003:503).
114 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
off-scourings from the shrine and the ash from the altar, and must take
away the fire to a pure [place]; and then (καὶ τόκα δή) after cleansing
oneself by rubbing,42 after purifying the shrine and sacrificing as a penalty
a full grown animal, at that moment let one sacrifice (τόκα δὴ θυέτω) as the
law [prescribes]’.
As Parker rightly remarks (1983:339): ‘in this case the illicit sacrifice
pollutes the sacrificer as well as the shrine’. In order to make atonement,
the guilty person must cleanse himself and the shrine by a series of purifi-
catory acts followed by two kinds of sacrifices, which no longer have
a cathartic character since sacrificer and sacred place are already purified:
the first sacrifice is offered to the divinity so as to indemnify her for having
immolated an illicit victim on her altar; at the end of the second sacrifice, one
would be reintroduced to the sacrificial legal procedure and be allowed to
immolate a victim prescribed by the law. It is also to be noticed that the
victim offered as a penalty is a full-grown animal, while the purificatory
victims are, in their great majority, very young animals (see below).
The whole operation thus includes different actions that take place in
a succession of different moments. What matters here is that the sacrificial
rites come after the various purificatory practices; they are associated but
not contemporaneous with them. On the other hand, time is emphasized
by the word τόκα (then, at that moment). From this point of view, we
could compare this clause of the Cyrenaic Law with a ‘sacred law’ of Delphi
that prohibits taking wine outside the stadium. If one breaks this religious
rule, one must ‘propitiate’ (ἱ λαξάστõ) the god and μεταθυσάτõ and pay
a fine of five drachmas.43 Now, scholars do not agree on the sense of the
verb μεταθύω in this context. They propose different translations accord-
ing to the meaning they give to the preposition μετά: for example, ‘re-start
the sacrifice’, ‘change sacrifice’, that is ‘sacrifice differently’, ‘make an
offering in its place (sc. in the place of the wine taken away)’.44 Without
developing this discussion, we could compare μεταθυσάτõ with the expres-
sion τόκα δὴ θυέτω of the Cyrene passage and consider μετά as indicating
the time; we could translate: ‘and sacrifice afterwards’. After having trans-
gressed the law, one must propitiate, appease the god (by some acts not
described), and then offer to him a sacrifice (as a kind of penalty?).
In Delphi, propitiation and reparation are required by the religious regula-
tion, rather than purification45 as at Cyrene.

42
For the precise meaning of the verb ἀπονίπτομαι, see DELG s.v. νίζω.
43
LSCG n° 76 = Rougemont (1977:11–15, n° 3).
44
See Rougemont (1977:14–15); Jacquemin, Mulliez and Rougemont (2012:49–50, n° 23).
45
For Casabona (1966:102), the verb ἱ λαξάστõ would imply the sense of ‘purify’, since he writes that
the sacrifice is ‘offert après certaines cérémonies de purification’. Nevertheless, we have to do with
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 115
The important and very complex ‘lex sacra’ from Selinus, which has given
rise to long and controversial discussions since its publication and will
continue to puzzle and confuse scholars,46 offers similar cases of time
differentiation between purification and sacrifice. I merely point out two
passages very briefly, discussed also by Clinton (2005), with whom I mostly
agree. In both circumstances, the question is about the nature of the sacrifice
offered by a guilty person,47 who wishes to purify himself and get rid of his
elasteros.48 In the first passage (B 5–7), this person, ‘having sacrificed (θύσας)
a piglet to Zeus’, is free to go out from his host,49 turn around, be addressed,
take food and sleep wherever he wishes. In the second passage (B 7–11),
anyone who wishes to purify himself must act in the same way as does the
houtorectas: ‘having sacrificed (θύσας) a full-grown animal on the public
altar’, he is regarded as pure (καθαρὸς ἔστο).
These two sacrifices have been, more or less, considered by some scholars
as cathartic.50 But, as Clinton has rightly observed, the sacrifice of the
piglet to Zeus ‘is a normal one; it marks the purificand’s re-entry into
normal life, as do the other actions listed next – turning around, being
addressed, etc’.51 Lupu shares the same opinion: this sacrifice ‘is not
performed as a part of the purificatory ritual but rather after purification
is completed, indicating that the homicide is now engaging in normal
activity as an unpolluted person’.52 And it is ‘even clearer’ that the second

the semantic field of ἱλάσκομαι, not with that of καθαίρω. Finally, for P. Fournier (REA 24,
1922:11–12), μεταθυσάτõ could suggest the idea of an expiatory sacrifice intending to ‘changer
(μετα-) les dispositions du dieu courroucé’ (cf. Nouveau choix d’inscriptions grecques, by the
Institut Fernand-Courby, Paris (1971, n° 18), where μεταθυσάτõ is translated as follows: ‘qu’on lui
offre un sacrifice expiatoire’). But this is rather the function of ἱλάσκομαι.
46
See Jameson, Jordan and Kotansky (1993). New study and recent bibliography by Robertson (2010).
47
I set aside the quasi-insoluble problem of the definition and the exact meaning of the word
hοὐτορέκτας (= αὐτορ(ρ)έκτας), in B line 9, translated by most scholars as ‘homicide’. I prefer,
following Dubois (1995:144), ‘coupable’), to translate by the general term ‘guilty’, even if this word
ultimately refers to a murderer (see, more recently, Dubois (2008:56), where he notes: ‘On pourrait
le traduire par “auteur personnellement responsable d’un acte”, c’est-à-dire “meurtier”’). Cf., in
similar sense, Dobias-Lalou (1997:266) (‘qui agit lui-même’), Giuliani (1998:78) (‘autore diretto’).
Robertson (2010:28) interprets the hοὐτορέκτας as the one ‘slaying with his own hand’.
48
On these multivalent entities, called Elasteroi/Alasteroi, see most recently Patera (2011).
49
As Clinton (1996:176) rightly says, this person (B 3–4) should be the purifier. According to Dubois
(2008:60), it is the host who moves away from the houtorectas.
50
Cf. Dubois (2008:60, 63), Detienne (1998:230–1), Giuliani (1998:75, only the first sacrifice),
Dimartino (2003 [2006]:324–5, 327–8).
51
Clinton (2005:174–5), rectifying his first opinion (1996:176) according to which the victim would be
a purificatory one, a καθάρσιον. Already the editors of the inscription had correctly noticed: ‘Here,
however, there is no indication that this is not a normal sacrifice to Zeus’ (Jameson, Jordan and
Kotansky (1993:43)). On purificatory rituals followed by ‘a concluding sacrifice’, in the laws of
Cyrene and Selinus, cf. Bendlin (2007:186–7).
52
Lupu (2005:384).
116 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
sacrifice ‘is posterior to purification . . . it occurs after purification’, as
Clinton affirms, assuming that θύσας and καθαρὸς ἔστο ‘represent a single
moment, with θύσας, the act of sacrifice, signaling the state of purity’.53
As a matter of fact, since these sacrifices are performed by none other than
the one requiring purification, with respect to his elasteros who persecutes
him, we can reasonably say that this person could not be allowed to sacrifice
to the gods before becoming pure54 according to the Greek religious norms.55
Against this interpretation, it may be maintained that someone, even tainted
by homicide, could take part in worship, approach the gods and offer
sacrifices. As a proof of this, scholars refer in particular to a passage of
Demosthenes and to the story of the purification of Achilles from the
murder of Thersites.56 According to the orator, anyone who had committed
an ‘involuntary murder’ (ἀκούσιος φόνος) and was banished from Athens
could not return before ‘he had sacrificed and been purified’ (θῦσαι καὶ
καθαρθῆναι).57 As for Achilles, his purification is briefly recorded in an
episode of Aethiopis, summarized by Proclus: having killed Thersites,
Achilles sailed to Lesbos, where, ‘having sacrificed (θύσας) to Apollo and
Artemis and Leto, he is purified (καθαίρεται) of murder by Odysseus’.58
In the two references, the verb ‘sacrifice’ is mentioned before the verb
‘purify’, as if sacrifice precedes purification. In the face of this kind of
ambiguity, Robertson, commenting on the text of Demosthenes, makes
a judicious remark: ‘the order of words need not be the order in time’.59
In fact, an author can use and order his words loosely, without necessarily
adapting the structure of his narration to the order followed by cult actions
during the ritual time. There is another difficulty: given the fact that, in
these two passages, the sacrificer is presented as the guilty person itself, it
follows that the sacrifice is performed by an impure individual. Such an
act would be quite improbable since, according to general Greek
rules, murderers were excluded from sanctuaries and sacred places. It is
sufficient to recall here that in Book 9 of his Laws, Plato emphasizes this
interdiction clearly, concerning either an ‘involuntary’ killer, or whoever
slays ‘wrongfully and of design’. The first could not venture ‘to go to any of

53
Clinton (2005:175). I came back to these two sacrifies in Georgoudi (2015:235–9).
54
Even if he no doubt must complete, bring to perfection this state of purity by marking the space with
salt and performing aspersion with a golden vessel (B 11) – salt and gold being important cathartic
agents.
55
As early as the Iliad (cf. 1. 313–17), the Achaeans must cleanse themselves well (ἀπολυμαίνεσθαι) and
throw the off-scourings into the sea before they sacrifice to the gods.
56
Cf. Stengel (1920:157). Cf. Parker (1983:114, 131 n. 102, 138). 57 Dem. (23) Against Aristocr. 72.
58
Procl. Chrest. 105. 27, in Severyns (1928:317–18) (without further commentary).
59
Robertson (2010:368).
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 117
the temples and sacrifice unpurified (ἀκάθαρτος ὤν)’; the second is for-
bidden to ‘pollute’ (μιαίνων) by his presence ‘the temples, or the agora, or
the harbours, or any other place of meeting’.60 Demosthenes himself is
perfectly aware of this kind of interdiction, when he says clearly, in another
speech, that people ‘having hands not clean’ (οἱ μὴ καθαρὰς τὰς χεῖρας
ἔχοντες) could not even enter the agora.61

Purificatory and Sacrificial Order

Thus, the examples mentioned above bear on various purificatory rites
followed by sacrifices of different natures, but not of cathartic character.
Sometimes, instead of diverse cleansing actions at the beginning, we may
have a clearly purificatory sacrifice, after which comes another sacrifice, not
cathartic. It seems that this is the case in the Amphiareum near Oropos,
where a divination was practised by dreams (δι᾽ ὀνειράτων μαντικήν),
according to Pausanias’ description (1.34.5): ‘One who has come to consult
Amphiaraus is wont first to purify himself (καὶ πρῶτον μὲν καθήρασθαι).’
To do that, he must ‘sacrifice to the god a καθάρσιον, and they sacrifice not
only to him but also to all those whose names are on the altar.62 And when
all these things have been done first (προεξειργασμένων δὲ τούτων), they
sacrifice a ram (κριόν) and, spreading the fleece under them, they go to
sleep, awaiting the manifestation of a dream.’
If I understand this passage, it refers to two sacrifices. The animal
immolated during the first, in honour of Amphiaraus and all the others,
is a καθάρσιον, a purificatory victim; we have therefore to do with
a cathartic sacrifice. The second sacrifice is performed after accomplishing
all these preliminary acts; the victim this time is a ram, immolated no
doubt for Amphiaraus, the diviner and healer god. According to Kevin
Clinton, this ram could be the καθάρσιον, because ‘it is the fleece, however,
that ought to provide the purification, just as the “fleece of Zeus” (Διὸς
κῴδιον) does in other settings’.63 On the contrary, in his renewed study on

60
Pl. Laws 9, 886a and 871a. If the question of ‘how murder pollution is incurred’ is complicated (cf.
Parker (1983:111)), there is no hesitation about the necessity of purifications. Cf. Morrow (1960:424)
on the καθαρμοί mentioned in ‘all the forms of homicide distinguished in Platonic law’.
61
Dem. (24) Against Timocr. 60.
62
These names are given by Pausanias in 1.34.3. They include gods and goddesses, heroes and heroines.
On the altar and the complexity of the associations between these divine and heroic powers, see
Sineux (2007: esp. 86–9, 136–48), and most recently, with particular emphasis on these figures,
Polignac (2011).
63
Clinton (2005:175 and n. 46) evokes Harrison who actually affirms that ‘here again, though the name
is not used, we have a δῖον κῴδιον, a magical fleece with purificatory properties’ (1922:27–8, italics
118 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
Amphiaraus, Pierre Sineux reasonably rejects this comparison, or even this
identification between the Διὸς κῴδιον and the fleece of the ram, which is
not necessary here. Nevertheless, in the sacrifice of the ram he proposes to
see ‘un rite purificatoire et peut-être propitiatoire’.64 Firstly, I think that we
must respect the narrative order of this passage, which seems clear enough:
in what must ‘be done before (τὰ προεξειργασμένα)’, that is before the
sacrifice of the ram, Pausanias includes the sacrifice of the καθάρσιον,
which would be an animal different from the ram, perhaps a piglet,
a typical purificatory victim. By means of all these actions (τούτων), the
consultant is thus purified and ready to sacrifice the ram to the god.
Secondly, to sleep on the fleece of the sacrificial animal offered to the
divinity can probably create, as Sineux thinks, an ‘isolement simbolique’
with regard to the rest of the world. However, I would say in addition that
this contact, this physical touch between the body of the already purified
patient and the fleece of the ram immolated to the god brings the human
and the divine agent closer together, creating a particular bond between
them, liable to facilitate the apparition of a dream sent by Amphiaraus
during this incubation practice with its healing function.65
If Pausanias’ text reveals the existence of two different sacrifices, in other
cases it is more difficult to distinguish between a purification process and
a sacrifice with no cathartic scope in the same context. When Theseus,
having killed a series of robbers and criminals, came to the river Cephisus,
he was met by men of the genos of Phytalidai. They greeted him first
(πρῶτοι), unaware of his deeds, but immediately Theseus ‘asked to be
purified (δεομένου καθαρθῆναι)’ from bloodshed. The Phytalidai then,
‘having cleansed him with the customary rites, and having sacrificed
meilichia, feasted him at their house’.66 Pausanias (1.37.4) also mentions
an altar at which Theseus ‘obtained purification (καθαρσίων ἔτυχε) by the
descendants of Phytalos’.
Obviously, it is not easy to analyse such concise texts. Rudhardt, without
hesitation, describes the action of the Phytalidai as a ‘sacrifice cathartique’,

mine). Concerning the ‘fleece of Zeus’, on which ‘the candidate for purification sometimes stood’,
see Parker (1983:373).
64
Sineux (2007:176–7, at 176).
65
However, it must be noticed that the modalities described by Pausanias do not correspond to other
testimonies from the same sanctuary, as for example, the detailed ‘sacred law’ with different cult
regulations including incubation (IG VII 235 = LSCG 69 = Rhodes and Osborne (2003:129–34, n° 27)).
In this important document (387–371 bce), there is no mention of two sacrifices or of sleeping on
a fleece, an element also absent from certain reliefs with scenes of incubation. On these problems related
with probable cult modifications and changes during the ages, see Sineux (2007: esp. 137–42, 165–74).
66
Plut. Thes. 12.1: τοῖς νενομισμένοις ἁγνίσαντες καὶ μειλίχια θύσαντες εἱστίασαν οἴκοι.
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 119
followed by a meal, one of those ‘cathartic sacrifices offered more often to
Zeus Meilichios . . . The Phytalidai performed this sacrifice, in order to free
Theseus of the pollution of many murders’. Moulinier shares the same
opinion, when he wrote that the Phytalidai addressed to Zeus ‘un sacrifice
cathartique’, offering to him μειλίχια, ‘mild, propitiatory offerings’, so as to
appease the god.67 Neither Moulinier nor Rudhardt cites or comments on
the phrase ‘having cleansed him with the customary rites’ (τοῖς
νενομισμένοις ἁγνίσαντες). It seems that both authors identify in the
passage of Plutarch the function of the two verbs, ἁγνίσαντες and
θύσαντες, thinking very probably that they refer to one and the same action,
defined as ‘cathartic sacrifice’. I propose a different interpretation by
considering two actions, obviously interdependent, but nevertheless dis-
tinct: the Phytalidai purify (ἁγνίσαντες)68 Theseus by means of the usual
rites (τοῖς νενομισμένοις), and after that, they perform in all likelihood
a bloodless propitiatory sacrifice, by offering Zeus what can render him
favourable, gentle, kind, ‘sweet as honey’.69

Interaction between ‘Kathairô’ and ‘Thuô’

Now, if in certain cases it is possible to perceive the nuances or the shifts in
meaning between ‘purify’ (καθαίρω) and ‘sacrifice’ (θύω), in other situa-
tions it is not easy to understand the difference. First of all, there are
sacrifices with a clearly purificatory function, as the sacrificial ritual con-
ceived by Epimenides in order to cleanse the city of Athens attacked by
plague: ‘He purified their city (ἐκάθηρε αὐτῶν τὴν πόλιν), and stopped the
pestilence in the following way. He took sheep, some black and others
white, and brought them to the Areopagus; and there he let them go
whither they pleased, ordering those who followed them to sacrifice to
the god whom it beseems (θύειν τῷ προσήκοντι θεῷ) [on the spot] where
each sheep lay down; and thus the evil (τὸ κακόν) ceased.’70 Here the
purification assumes the form and no doubt the modalities of a sacrificial
action. That this action also had a propitiatory aspect and was addressed to
anonymous gods is shown by Diogenes Laertius, when he says in the same
passage: ‘Hence even to this day, in different demes of the Athenians,

67
Rudhardt (1958:271); Moulinier (1952:309).
68
On the verb ἁγνίζω and its meanings, see Parker (1983:329).
69
On the different acceptations of the word μείλιχος/μειλίχιος, associated, by popular etymology, with
μέλι, honey, see DELG s.v. μείλια. On the Phytalidai, cf. Parker (1996a:169–70, 318); on Zeus
Meilichios in general, cf. Cusumano (1991) and (2006).
70
Epimenides of Crete, FGrHist 457 T 1 Jacoby (ap. Diog. Laert. 1.110). Cf. Parker (1983:209–10).
120 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
anonymous altars may be found, which are memorials of the propitiation
accomplished then (βωμοὺς ἀνωνύμους ὑπόμνημα τῆς τότε ἐξιλάσεως).’71
Similarly, the ritual of purification by Circe of Jason and Medea in the
fourth book of the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius (4.690–717) shows
the interaction between sacrificial and purificatory terms. Polluted by their
murder of Medea’s brother, Jason and Medea reached the palace of Circe
and sat at the hearth, quiet and silent, ‘as is the custom of baneful
suppliants’ (δίκη λυγροῖς ἱκέτῃσι). Circe understood immediately that
Medea was guilty of murder and, in respect for the justice of Zeus, god
of suppliants, she ‘performed the kind of sacrifice (ῥέζε θυηπολίην) by
which pitiless suppliants are cleansed (ἀπολυμαίνονται)’, when they
approach a person’s hearth: she stretched above (καθύπερθε) Jason and
Medea a suckling pig, ‘and wet their hands with its blood as she slit its
throat; then with other libations (χύτλοισι), she propitiated Zeus, invok-
ing him as the Purifier (Καθάρσιον), as the Zeus of murderers
(Παλαμναῖον), as the Respecter of supplications (Τιμήορον ἱκεσιάων)’.72
Then the Naiads, Circe’s attendants, carried out of the house ‘all defile-
ment’ (πάντα . . . λύματα), while within, ‘by the hearth’ (παρέστιος),
Circe burned ‘cakes and offerings that soothe’ (πελανοὺς μείλικτρά τε),
saying ‘wineless prayers’ (νηφαλίῃσιν . . . εὐχωλῇσι),73 in order to placate
the anger of the terrible Erinyes and render Zeus himself propitious and
gentle to Jason and Medea. Having completed these tasks, Circe raised and
sat them on polished seats, and asked in detail about their story (v. 718–23).
This text provides a good example of sacrificial and purificatory practices
in unison. The cathartic action is even designated by the term θυηπολίη,74

71
The usual translation of the expression τῷ προσήκοντι θεῷ by: ‘to the local divinity’, ‘to the divinity
of that area’, ‘au dieu du voisinage’, ‘al dio del luogo’, does not look very faithful to the Greek text.
Cf. Federico (2001: esp. 113). Robertson (2010:112 n. 22) translates more exactly: ‘to the appropriate
god’, but he thinks that ‘this is only for the sake of the story’, because he attributes the ‘nameless
altars’ to the ‘nameless goddesses’, that is the Semnai Theai of the Areopagus (p. 107 n. 4, 112 n. 22).
However that may be, Diogenes Laertius says nothing, in 1.110, about the offering by Epimenides of
‘sheep both black and white to the Semnai Theai’, as Robertson affirms (2010:134 n. 23).
On Epimenides, the ‘nameless altars’ and the Semnai Theai, cf. also Henrichs (1994:35–9) and
Johnston (1999:279–87).
72
Concerning the two last qualifications of Zeus (v. 709), the text is uncertain. I follow the readings
and the translation of F. Vian: cf. the apparatus criticus, with the commentary (pp. 173–4), in his
edition of Apollonios de Rhodes, Argonautiques, Collection des Universités de France, Paris (1996).
73
We have here what is called, in grammar, hypallage: the ‘wineless’ applies to the offerings, as in
Aesch. Eum. 107, where the Erinyes receive also ‘wineless soothing offerings’ (νηφάλια μειλίγματα).
On the ‘sober libations’, see now the thorough study of Pirenne-Delforge (2011).
74
According to Casabona (1966:120–1), the verb θυηπολεῖν, ‘sacrifier’, is attested for the first time in
Aeschylus (Ag. 262) as a ‘simple substitut poétique de θύειν’. But the substantive θυηπολία, Ion. –ίη,
belongs to a small group of terms created by the koinè. Parker (2011:158) rightly says that ‘the killing
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 121
‘sacrifice’; from this point of view, we can speak about a ‘purificatory
sacrifice’. Nevertheless, we are not in an ‘ordinary’ sacrificial context: the
animal is not addressed to a divine or heroic recipient,75 his blood does not
wet the altar, but the two suppliants. On this point, I would like to observe
that Circe seems to hold the bleeding young animal above the heads of the
guilty persons, as suggested by the adverb καθύπερθε, ‘above, from above’.
We can compare this gesture with the few images concerning the purifica-
tion of Orestes by Apollo at Delphi, where the god is shown holding the
piglet precisely over the head of the matricide.76 The same posture is seen on
an engraved gem, where a bearded man holds the small animal over the head
of one of three maidens, shown in a rather strange, uncoordinated attitude.
According to some scholars, the scene represents the purification of
Proetus’ mad daughters by Melampus, a version not found, to my knowl-
edge, in literary sources.77 These kinds of document give the impression
that the blood of the purificatory victim must inundate the whole polluted
person, even if, in the case of murder, the accent is often put on the killer’s
hands (χεῖρες).
Let us now pay more attention to a significant, in my opinion, detail of
this long passage of Apollonius. What would be, indeed, the sense of the
libations and invocations addressed by Circe to Zeus? Were they per-
formed in order to complete ‘the purification itself’?78 In this case, they
would be considered part of the purificatory action, as Ginouvès
believed,79 for whom the word χύτλοισι of the verse 708 did not designate
‘drink offerings’, but ‘des effusions d’eau’: Circe would purify Jason and
Medea by ‘pouring the blood of the piglet onto the hands of the murderers,
then by washing them with water’. Anyway, in this passage, Apollonius
says nothing about a purification by water, while the term χύτλοισι here is

itself . . . is not described as a sacrifice’ (italics are mine); but the text makes clear that this killing is
part of an act called ‘sacrifice’.
75
Clinton (2005:175) remarks that ‘purificatory victims were not designated to specific gods’, which is
generally right. However, the case of Epimenides poses some problems, even if the gods, to whom
the sheep are sacrificed, are not ‘specified’ (see above).
76
Orestes: Dyer (1969, Plate II, figs. 1 and 2); but cf. Plate IV, fig. 6, where the god holds the animal in
front of Orestes.
77
Gem: Paris, Cabinet de Medailles, first century bce. Cf. also a vase from Sicily, known as the
Canicattini krater (fourth century bce), where a naked young man is presented slaughtering a piglet
over the heads of demented maidens, identified by scholars as Proetus’ daughters (see Schneider-
Herrmann (1970:59–61, 67 fig. 1)). In general, the ‘healer-seer’ (ἰατρόμαντις) Melampus cures the
maidens by means of ‘drugs and purifications’ (διὰ φαρμάκων καὶ καθαρμῶν): Apollod. 2.2.2; cf.
Paus. 5.5.10. Pausanias 8.18.7 speaks also of ‘secret sacrifices’ (θυσίαις ἀπορρήτοις), without any
other precision.
78
As thinks Parker (1983:370). 79 Ginouvès (1962:322 with n. 12).
122 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
clearly related to Zeus.80 However that may be, I am inclined to think that
these libations and invocations belong rather to the rites of appeasement
performed after the actual purification of the suppliants by blood. At this
moment (and not when she slits the animal), Circe invokes Zeus, but not
only in his role as Katharsios, as the Purifier of polluted persons. By means
of libations, she wants to ‘render mild’ (μείλισσεν, v. 708) three kinds of
Zeus, associated with purifications, murderers and supplications.81 These
propitiatory libations could not be separated from the whole ritual that
Circe performs by the hearth, burning ‘cakes and offerings that soothe’ and
saying ‘wineless prayers’, in order to appease both the Erinyes and Zeus
himself. Anyway, having been cleansed by blood, during the ‘purificatory
sacrifice’, Jason and Medea need also to be accepted by the offended divine
powers, whose propitiation permits them now to abandon their silent
attitude of prostrate suppliants, to rise and answer the questions of their
hostess and purifier.

The Case of Heracles

The use of an animal victim by Circe, as a potent cathartic agent, is cited
sometimes by scholars as an argument for interpreting a controversial
passage in the Heracles of Euripides (v. 922–41). As is well known, during
the absence of Heracles, supposed to be in the Underworld in order to
abduct the dog Cerberus from Hades, the tyrant Lycus has decided to
eliminate Heracles’ family, killing his father, his wife and his three male
children. Finally, Heracles arrives at the most critical moment, kills Lycus
and saves his oikos. Having flung the corpse of his enemy outside the
palace, Heracles undertakes to purify the house. This purification, as
reported by the Messenger, takes the form of a sacrifice, as suggested by
the mention of different elements belonging to the sacrificial practice and
context: the altar (that of Zeus),82 the basket (κανοῦν) which passes in
a circle round the altar, the torch (δαλός) which Heracles is about to dip
in the lustral water (χέρνιψ), the reverent attitude of the participants.
At this moment Heracles is attacked suddenly by madness, becomes
80
The word χύτλα can sometimes signify water for washing, the bath (cf. Lycoph. Alex. 1099), but it
means, in general, ‘what is poured out’, as the libations: see DELG s.v. χέω.
81
Cf. v. 700–1: the Zeus of Suppliants (Ἱκέσιος) ‘is a god of wrath, yet mightily aids slayers of men’
(trad. Loeb).
82
On this altar, called both ἐσχάρα and βωμός, cf. Rudhardt (1958:270), who reasonably attributes this
altar to Zeus Herkeios. The altar of this Zeus would be within the house, in the middle of the internal
courtyard called ἕρκος. On Zeus Herkeios, cf. Parker (2005: esp. 16–18). On the terms ἐσχάρα and
βωμός, cf. Ekroth (2002: passim).
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 123
uncontrollable and kills his wife and children, believing that he is elim-
inating Eurystheus’ sons.
Now, the question raised by this passage concerns the exact nature of the
ritual that Heracles is preparing to perform. This depends particularly on
how scholars approach and interpret the rather vague expression ἱερὰ . . .
καθάρσια, at the beginning of the rhesis of the Messenger.83 Foley perfectly
summarizes the communis opinio: ‘Heracles’ purification is a full sacrificial
procedure with animal victims rather than a purification with fire and
water . . . the term ἱερὰ . . . καθάρσια (922–3) could be interpreted to
include animal victims.’84 This interpretation gave rise to theories about
‘the failure of the sacrifice’, or ‘the perverted sacrifice’: Heracles, struck
down by murder-madness, fails to sacrifice the animal victims, but slaugh-
ters human beings; the animal sacrifice becomes a violent and polluting
‘human sacrifice’.85
Anyway, beyond these theories, the ambiguous and laconic character of
these verses render any interpretation uncertain. Nevertheless, I consider
less probable ‘animal sacrifice’. In the first place, if the sacrificial basket is
reported by the Messenger, there is no indication of the sacrificial knife.
I do not consider its mention always necessary in the description of blood
sacrifices, but its presence would be suitable for a scene so marked by
violence.86 In the second place, the vague expression mentioned above
must be taken as a whole: ἱερὰ . . . καθάρσια οἴκων, which could be
translated literally as, ‘the sacred means of purification of the house’, set in
83
For more clarity, I cite the verses 922–4 with the translation of Barlow (1996): ἱερὰ μὲν ἦν πάροιθεν
ἐσχάρας Διὸς | καθάρσι᾽ οἴκων, γῆς ἄνακτ᾽ ἐπεὶ κτανὼν | ἐξέβαλε τῶνδε δωμάτων Ἡρακλέης·,
‘Offerings were set in front of Zeus’s altar to purify the house after Heracles had killed the king and
flung his body outside the palace.’
84
Foley (1985:153 n. 11) (italics mine), followed by Barlow (1996:166 and Papadopoulou (2005:11)).
Referring to this passage, other scholars speak more generally, for example, of ‘lustral sacrifice
celebrated by Heracles for the murder of Lycus’ (Moulinier 1952:88), or of ‘Heracles who sacrifices to
Zeus Herkeios in order to purify himself from the murder of Lycus’ (Rudhardt 1958:270). Parker,
more careful, remarks (1983:114 n. 39): ‘The ritual envisaged is unclear . . . but what Heracles seems
to be preparing is a normal sacrifice’; cf. in the same sense, Bond (1981:308).
85
The discussion of these theories is outside the scope of this paper. See especially Foley (1985:152–67),
Papadopoulou (2005:10–34). Cf. most recently Naiden (2013a:78 and note 214), who, referring to the
verses 922–30 of the play, speaks of an ‘interrupted sacrifice’, where the victim ‘that Heracles thinks’
to immolate was a ‘sheep’. However no ‘sheep’ or other animal is mentioned or suggested in this
passage or in the following verses. And even if the third child, whom the ‘suffering mother’ tries
desperately to save from the furious Heracles, is called thuma by the Messenger (v. 995), the use of
this sacrificial term says nothing about the alleged presence of an animal victim, proved ‘to be his
own children’. In fact, despite this term, Heracles does not ‘treat the children as sacrificial victims’
(so Foley (1985:158)), brandishing against them sacrificial instruments, such as a knife or an axe. He
chased his sons as his enemies, striking them with his arrows and his club. We are far from
a ‘sacrificial’ scene, ‘perverted’ or not.
86
On the knife and the theme of violence in Greek sacrifices, cf. Georgoudi (2005a).
124 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
front of Zeus’s altar.87 Heracles is perhaps prepared to accomplish
a purificatory ‘sacrifice’; but, in the whole passage (v. 922–41), the emphasis
is not put on some supposed animal victims (nowhere mentioned, as has
been said before), but on fire (and probably on water).88 By means of the
fire (πῦρ), mentioned twice, Heracles is about to purify his oikos, and also
himself, as it is said clearly, later in the play: having recovered his mind,
Heracles asks his father at what moment the sting (οἶστρος) of madness
attacked him. ‘When, by the altar, you were purifying your hands with the
fire’,89 responds Amphitryon. Moreover, it is significant that the verb
‘sacrifice’ (θύω) is, in this context, associated with fire, not with animal
victims. In the madness scene, Heracles speaks to Amphitryon in these
terms, according to the Messenger’s narration (v. 936–40): ‘Father, why am
I sacrificing purificatory fire (τί θύω . . . καθάρσιον πῦρ), before I kill
Eurystheus? Why am I making double labor? . . . When I bring back here
the head of Eurystheus, then I shall purify my hands (ἁγνιῶ χέρας) for
those just killed.’ One could certainly say that θύω signifies here ‘offer’ or
even ‘light’ the cleansing fire.90 However, in this puzzling text of the
Heracles, where sacrifice and purification are continuously mingled, the
question is on what aspect or element Euripides aimed to put the accent.
If that is the case, the purification by fire, both of the house and of the hero
himself,91 could constitute, in this passage, one of the themes emphasized
voluntarily by the tragic poet.

87
As is said above (n. 24), the term καθάρσια can designate different purificatory materials or means
(including animal victims), but it may also signify ‘purification’ in general, as in Paus. 5.16.8
(purification of the Sixteen women at Elis, see above). Similarly, the word καθάρσιον can designate
an animal used in purification as well as the cathartic action itself; cf. Hdt. 1.35: Adrastus, after the
involuntary murder of his brother, arrived at the palace of Croesus and ‘asked for obtaining
purification’ (καθαρσίου ἐδέετο κυρῆσαι).
88
On the importance and main uses of the lustral water (χέρνιψ), cf. Ginouvès (1962:311–18). After the
murder of Cacus, Heracles purified himself in the waters of a river (Dion. Hal. Ant. Rom. 1.39.4).
Following the killings he has committed, he was most often cleansed by different men of wealth and
power (cf. Parker (1983:381–3)).
89
Verse 1145: ὅτ᾽ ἀμφὶ βωμὸν χεῖρας ἡγνίζου πυρί.
90
Cf. Casabona (1966:75), referring to this passage.
91
Moulinier (1952:131 and n. 1) refutes the purification by fire of Heracles, supporting that ‘aucune
purification d’êtres humains par le feu n’est certaine à l’époque classique’ (italics are his). Foley
(1985:153 n. 11) thinks that fire or fire and sulphur ‘generally refer to the purification of a place rather
than a person’; in the Odyssey (22.481–94), for example, after the murder of the suitors, Odysseus
purifies his house, but not himself (cf. also Parker (1983:114 n. 39)). However, not only is there no
reason to refute this kind of human purification in Heracles, but in his Iphigeneia in Taurica (v.
1222–5), Euripides includes clearly the ‘light of torches’ (σέλας λαμπάδων) in the καθάρσια, the
various materials asked for by Iphigeneia in order ‘to purify the foreigners and the goddess’ (see
below). See also Parker (1983:227): ‘Torches . . . could purify a room or a man.’ Cf. Adkins (1960:90)
referring to Heracles: ‘if one has killed a man, one should purify oneself with fire.’
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 125
Finally, a last question, outlined very briefly, could end these reflec-
tions on sacrifice and purification. As is known, the god who presided
over purifications, the deity at whose altars murderers sought cleansing
from blood guilt, was primarily Zeus, worshipped as Katharsios,
‘Purifier’.92 It is not then astonishing that the god of Suppliants (Zeus
Hikesios) and of Strangers (Zeus Xenios) became also the first divine
Purifier of the first murderer and suppliant, Ixion, the first human
being to shed kindred blood. Scholars who refer to this story rarely pay
attention to the means used by the god in order to cleanse the polluted
person. An unattributed fragment of Aeschylus very probably refers to
this purification: πρὶν ἂν παλαγμοῖς [σταλαγμοῖς, Nauck2] αἵματος
χοιροκτόνου | αὐτός σε χράνῃ Ζεὺς καταστάξας χεροῖν, ‘until Zeus
himself stains93 you with drops of a slain piglet’s blood, sprinkling it
with his hands’.94 Piglets are omnipresent in cathartic operations in
general, but Zeus is closely associated, in myth and in sacrificial practice,
with pigs and piglets.95
So this first purificatory act involves the blood of an animal, that of
a piglet in this case, its blood recognized as an important cathartic
substance.96 Before trying to think over this fact, it would be useful to
remember an important point: the cathartic ritual by means of blood does
not always lead immediately to the complete purification of the polluted
person.97 However that may be, the question is worth asking again: why,
for what reason, is the blood of an animal presented as an appropriate
matter to purify, to wash away the defilement caused by the shedding of
human blood? I have no ambition to develop this question here, nor to give
a satisfactory answer to so thorny and complicated a question. I would like
only to make some remarks, being conscious of the necessity for a more
thorough and enlarged investigation.

92
Cf. Parker (1983:139 and n. 143), with references.
93
The verb χραίνω often signifies ‘defile’. In this fragment of Aeschylus, it means rather ‘smear’, ‘cover
with’, ‘drench’, as in Aesch. Sept. 61, or in Bacchyl. Epinicians, fr. 11, 110–11 Snell-Maehler =
Campbell: ‘they drenched (χραῖνον) the altar with sheeps’ blood.’
94
Aesch. fr. 327 Nauck2 = Radt = Sommerstein (I think that χεροῖν in the dative here implies the use of
hands, those of Zeus, not of Ixion as Sommerstein translates).
95
On this relation, cf. Georgoudi (2010a:100–5). On piglets and purifications, cf. Clinton (2005: esp.
168–76).
96
Following his father, Apollo will use the same method later for the purification of Orestes: see Dyer
(1969).
97
The purification of Orestes, supposed to occur in three stages, is a good example of the cleansing of
a killer obtained by a gradual process: see the discussion in Parker (1983:386–8).
126 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
‘Impure’ Animals and Purificatory Victims
Let us say, however, that, apart from a few images, this sort of purification
is mainly prevalent in the literary tradition, while epigraphy is, for the
moment, silent on this act.98 Now, according to an idea generally accepted
by scholars, this kind of operation is of a magic nature, on the principle that
the ‘similar [attracts] the similar’, as is interpreted the expression τοῖς
ὁμοίοις τὰ ὅμοια, found in two scholia, quasi identical, to Aeschines and to
Demosthenes.99 ‘Washing blood by blood’ would be then an ‘homeo-
pathic’ idea, an idea considered however as ridiculous by Heraclitus, in his
criticism of some ‘foolish’ religious practices: ‘they cleanse in vain them-
selves by polluting themselves (μιαινόμενοι) with blood, as if someone who
had stepped into mud were to wash himself with mud.’100
In relation to these ideas, it is worth quoting especially J. Rudhardt’s
opinion, followed afterwards by other scholars: ‘The mechanism of the
operation is magic; the similar attracts the similar; the purifying blood absorbs
the miasma of the blood shed and liberates in that way the man, on whom it
[sc. the purifying blood] flows, from the defilement . . . In such an operation,
the cathartic substance acts in a paradoxical manner because of its impurity;
this explains the choice of the victims: the dogs are considered impure in many
cults; the piglet is used “with other impure things of the same nature”.’101
Before making some remarks on these theories, it is to be noted that, in
general, we are dealing with various cult realities, with multiple ritual
practices of the Greeks, which take place and function beyond and inde-
pendently of the philosophical reflections of a Heraclitus, or the scepticism
of some enlightened minds. Now, the idea about the impurity of piglets
(and of dogs) is not confirmed by Greek facts. As Parker has already argued
with reason: ‘There was no category of impure animals in Greece . . . Nor
was there a category of impure food.’102 Leaving dogs aside here,103 I would
say, in agreement with Clinton (2005:173), that the ‘impurity’ of the piglet,

98
As remarks Lupu (2005:281, 384). Bendlin (2007:187) thinks, no doubt with reason, that ‘the literary
texts further dramatize what must be a ritual procedure already out of the ordinary’.
99
Schol. Aeschin. In Tim. 23; Schol. Dem. or. 4, Phil. 1b. 30sq. M. R. Dilts (ed.), Biblioth. Teubn.
(1983) (see below).
100
Heracl. fr. 5 Diels-Kranz = 86 Marcovich.
101
Rudhardt (1958:166) (translation and italics are mine). The last phrase is cited from the Schol.
Aeschin. In Tim. 23: χοίρῳ καὶ τοῖς τοιούτοις ἀκαθάρτοις; see below, n. 104.
102
Parker (1983:357). Nevertheless, the ‘impurity’ of pigs in general is often mentioned by scholars as
self-evident; cf. Deshours (below, note 107).
103
A subject requiring a particular treatment; cf. Franco (2003:19–24), and her critical remarks against
the idea that dogs or puppies, used in purification rituals, were considered by Greeks as ‘impure’ or
‘despised’ animals. See also Georgoudi (2012).
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 127
put forward by the scholiast of Aeschines,104 seems ‘to reflect a Christian
(or Egyptian) background’. On the other hand, I would observe that these
scholia do not refer to the purification of murderers; in consequence, there
is no question of ‘washing blood by blood’. They deal with the cleansing of
the Athenian ekklesia, before every meeting of the popular assembly, an
operation executed by an official called peristiarchos,105 who carried round
the meeting-place the corpse of a slaughtered piglet (διὰ χοίρου
ἐσφαγμένου). In this way – say the scholiasts – the peristiarchos attracts
to the ‘victims (θύματα) the impure demons and the spirits who trouble
the minds of men, and he withdraws them from the assembly, in order to
deliberate in purity (καθαρῶς)’. As for the expression τοῖς ὁμοίοις τὰ ὅμοια,
it seems that it has nothing to do, in the context of these scholia, with the
theory of ‘the purifying blood’ of animal victims which would absorb
‘the miasma of the blood shed’ (see above). This expression comes after
the purification of the assembly, when ‘the herald, by incense (διὰ τῶν
θυμιαμάτων), appeals to the divinities (τὰ θεῖα), because the similar
rejoices at the similar (χαίρει γὰρ τοῖς ὁμοίοις τὰ ὅμοια)’.106 It is therefore
more probable that the notion of ‘similarity’ refers to the divine sphere.
Returning now to the theory that piglets (or puppies) were used in
purifications as ‘impure’, let us say that this assertion is contradicted also by
the fact that other animals were sometimes employed in cathartic rituals,
without being considered ‘unclean’: bulls, rams or boars are reported as
purificatory animals on Delos, besides the usual piglets; sheep were used by
Epimenides (see above); a dove is provided for the purification of the
sanctuary of Aphrodite Pandemos, at Athens; a ‘ram of good complexion’
(κριὸν εὔχρουν), but also three piglets are requested for purifications in the
sacred law of Andania; other animals, as for example, rams, are designated
by the general term σφάγια (slaughter-victims) and can be taken around
a place, a city, a territory, for cathartic and expiatory purposes.107
A more detailed inquiry could also point out other arguments against
the theories of animal ‘impurity’. Here, I would like to close with some last

104
Cf. also the scholiast of Demosthenes (see above, note 99). In both scholia, the piglet is included in
the category of the ‘impure’ things (τὰ ἀκάθαρτα).
105
On the uncertain etymology of this name, associated now with the word περίστια, identified with
καθάρσια (see note 24), now with the verb περιστείχειν, ‘go round about’, or even with Hestia, see
Moulinier (1952:100) (with references).
106
I quote from the Schol. Dem. or 4, Phil. 1b. 30sq. Dilts (above, note 99), which gives a better text.
107
Delos: IG XI.2 (199 A 70–71 (bull, ram, boar); IG XI.2 146 A 76–80 (piglet); I.Delos 338 Aa 17sqq.
(χοῖρος τὸ ἱερὸν καθάρασθαι); Clinton (2005:170–2). Athens: LSCG 39, 22–4. Andania: LSCG 65
67–8; cf. Deshours (2006:129), who attributes the use of the piglets to the ‘uncleanliness’ of pigs: ‘les
porcs, reputés impurs, sont sacrifiés dans les purifications’. On the ‘symbolic encirclement’ for
cathartic purposes, cf. Parker (1983:21–2, 225–6) (with references).
128 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
reflections concerning the main question: why is the blood of a slain animal
considered as a potent agent of purification, capable of absorbing and
washing away different kinds of impurity or pollution? Leaving this ques-
tion open, I will limit myself to two remarks, or rather to some brief
clarifications on two points.
In the first place, the blood of the purificatory victims would not simply
be regarded as the well-known red fluid, which circulates in the bodies of
the animals. During the cathartic operation, through the different mod-
alities of the purificatory action, this blood is shed in a ritual context,
according to specific gestures and in a particular manner. This ritual
treatment of the blood seems to transform it into a powerful substance,
endowed with important cleansing qualities and capacities. It becomes
a kind of stream that carries along impurities and pollutions, and this
blood, regarded now as ‘unclean’, was no doubt disposed of, as part of the
defilements, of the offscourings (λύματα), produced by the act of purifica-
tion. However, on this point, concerning especially the purifying blood of
the animal victim, our sources are not very clear.108
In the second place, it is clear that, in the majority of cases, the
purificatory victims are very young animals. Piglets occupy naturally the
top of the scale, as they are used, in great numbers, for all kinds of
purifications.109 Sometimes special attention is given to their tender age.
As Orestes says, in Eumenides, a man who is defiled by shedding human
blood will be purified from murder through the blood of a ‘suckling animal’
(νεοθήλου βοτοῦ), a reference to his own purification by Apollo with the
blood of a piglet. The piglet slaughtered by Circe, for Jason and Medea, is
qualified as ‘the young of a sow (συὸς τόκος) whose dugs yet swelled from
the fruit of the womb’.110 Besides piglets, though less often, other animal
species are mentioned in this context as, for example, young dogs
(σκύλακες, σκυλάκια).111 In the land of the Taurians, Iphigeneia, as priest-
ess of Artemis, is preparing to use, with other καθάρσια, the blood of
lambs, and even of ‘new born lambs’ (νεογνοὺς . . . ἄρνας), in order to
purify Orestes and Pylades considered as ‘non pure victims’ (οὐ καθαρὰ . . .

108
The usual, and often the only, reference is to Ap. Rhod. Argon. 4.710–11, related to the purification
of Jason and Medea (see above). But the words λύματα (here) or καθάρσια (in other texts, cf. note
24) are general terms, including very probably the victim’s blood.
109
Cf. Clinton (2005). Instead of a piglet (χοῖρος), we rarely find the mention of a δέλφαξ, a pig neither
new-born not old (cf. Schol. Ar. Ach. 44). The δέλφακες are designated by Aristophanes the
grammarian as pigs which ‘had already become somewhat firm (πεπηγότα πως) in their body’,
cf. Schaps (1991) and (1996); Reger (1994:148–9).
110
Orestes: Aesch.Eum.448–50, cf. 283; Jason and Medea: Ap. Rhod. Argon.4.705–6 (see above).
111
Cf. Theophr. Char. 16.13; Plut. Quest. Rom. 68, Mor. 280C.
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 129
τὰ θύματα), inappropriate for sacrifice to the goddess.112 In the Cathartic
Law of Cyrene, introduced by an oracle of Apollo prescribing purifications
and abstinences for the inhabitants of Libya, a red young he-goat (χίμαρον
ἐρυθρόν)113 must be sacrificed to Apollo Ἀποτρόπαιος (the Averter), ‘if
sickness [or famine] or death comes against the land or the city’ – that is to
say calamities requiring, in general, cathartic rites.114
How could we explain the choice of such young animals for purificatory
purposes?115 One can respond to this question in economic terms, suggesting
that piglets were the cheapest offerings, and consequently very easy to procure,
particularly for ordinary and regular purifications.116 I would not deny this
argument, but it does not seem very satisfactory. Without pretending to
resolve this problem, I would like to call attention to an aspect of Roman
sacrificial practice that could be helpful from a comparative point of view.
Varro, for example, remarks that piglets (porci), ‘on the tenth day after
birth are considered “pure” (puri), and for that reason from ancient times
they are called sacres, because they are said to be fit for sacrifice first at that
age’.117 Pliny compares this kind of sacrificial ‘purity’ in three animal species:
‘the young of a pig is “pure” (purus) for sacrifice five days [after birth], that of
a sheep, seven days, that of an ox, thirty days’.118 Despite the difference
concerning the age of the piglets, the two authors agree on an important
point: they call these young sacrificial animals puri, physically clean, pure,
and also sacres, ready to be consecrated to the gods and accepted by them. For
Pliny, this ‘purity’ is also an important criterion when selecting lambs and
calves to be immolated on the altars of gods.

112
Eur.IT.1163, 1221–5. As it is said above (note 91), the ‘light of torches’ was part of the purificatory
materials.
113
Scholars translate the word χίμαρος by ‘he-goat’ (cf. Parker (1983:334); Robertson (2010:263, 281–2)), or
by ‘billy goat’ (cf. Rhodes and Osborne 2003:495). Nevertheless, and despite of Robertson’s objections,
the term refers here, most probably, to a young animal: either ‘a one winter-old he-goat’ (in its literal
meaning: see DELG s.v. χίμαιρα), or a he-goat between a kid (ἔριφος) and a billy-goat (τράγος): see
Lupu (2005:273); Dobias-Lalou (2000:304) translates rightly ‘chevreau’. A χίμαρος can sometimes
designate a kid, even a ‘newly born’ (ἀρτίτοκος) kid: Anth. Pal. 6.154.3 (Leonidas of Tarentum).
114
Column A 1–7 (Robertson (2010:260)). This sacrifice can have an averting as well as a cathartic
character: cf. Plut. Quest. Rom.111, Mor. 290C, where the two concepts are associated
(ἀποτροπαίων καὶ καθαρσίων [sc. rites]).
115
The theme of youth and freshness can also be found in cathartic rites that do not imply animal
victims. The laborious rites that Oedipus must perform for the purification of the Eumenides and
their grove include the use of the ‘newly shorn wool of a young ewe’ (οἰὸς . . . νεαρᾶς νεοπόκῳ
μαλλῷ): Soph. OC 475.
116
Clinton (2005:172–3); cf. Parker (1983:372); Bremmer (2007:134).
117
Varro, Rust. 2.4.16. Hence, continues Varro, in Plautus’ play the Menaechmi [290], a character asks:
‘What is the price of porci sacres in this town [sc. Epidamnus]?’; cf. also 2.1.20. On the etymology
and sense of the word porcus, translated often erroneously ‘pig’, see Benveniste (1969:30–1).
118
Plin. HN 8.206.
130 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
A well-known Roman ritual, the lustratio agri, furnishes interesting
information on the use of young animals. According to Cato (Agr. 141),
a prayer was addressed by farmers to the god Mars, beseeching him to ‘keep
away, ward off and remove’ from their household, fields and animals, all
kind of disasters, as ‘sickness, seen and unseen, barrenness and destruction,
ruin and unseasonable influence’. For that purpose, in order to protect
farms, plantations and flocks, Cato recommends the farmers to lead
around their land and farm three young animals, and afterwards to sacrifice
them to Father Mars. Now these animals were three suckling victims,
a piglet, a lamb and a calf, which formed what Cato calls suovetaurilia
lactentia. What would be the sense of this ritual? The specialists of Roman
religion do not agree on the etymology of the words lustratio, lustrum.
Many scholars translate them in terms of purification, and include the text
of Cato among sources referring to rites for ‘purifying fields’ (agrum
lustrare), villages or cities.119 This interpretation is firmly criticized, for
example, by John Scheid: the lustrum, he affirms, is the ‘procession . . .
which consists in conducting the three victims round the field in question,
[and it is] proper to the rite of suovetaurilia . . . The lustratio has nothing to
do with a purification. It is an act of defence, protection and definition.’120
Other scholars are less categorical on this point as, for instance, Henk
Versnel, who remarks with regard to the ceremony of the circumambulatio:
‘The priest or the magistrate led the “purifying instrument” (frequently,
though not always, suovetaurilia) round the object that had to be
lustrated . . . But . . . we would undervalue and, as result, misunderstand
the meaning of the ceremony if we left it by classifying only in terms of
purification.’121 This means, if I am not mistaken, that purification is one of
the aspects (and certainly not the sole aspect) of the circumambulatio, and
in the case of Cato, we may accept that this aspect is not the most
important. However that may be, I prefer to leave the question of the
lustratio to the specialists of Roman culture, since I do not feel competent
to resolve ‘this vexed problem’ – as it is considered by Versnel himself.

119
Among numerous studies, see Saladino (2004:64–6).
120
Scheid (2005:148). On this complicated question, the author’s reflexion can also evolve: cf. Scheid
(1990:447–51), on the different kinds of lustratio of Romans, private or public lustrations (lustratio
agri, lustratio pagi and lustratio agri Romani), where it is a question, among others, of the lustrum,
‘effective (real) or symbolic’, to which the Romans had recourse in order to ‘purify a land, a territory
or a property’.
121
Versnel (1993:319) (italics are mine). In a recent Companion to Roman Religion (Rüpke (2011)), some
authors make mention of the ‘purification of the fields’ (lustratio agri); cf. Belayche (2011:278);
C. Smith (2011:41).
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 131
Nevertheless, I take the liberty of making three remarks, concerning also
the Greek point of view.
First, the act of ‘purifying’ a place can have not only a cathartic meaning
denoted by the verbs καθαίρω or lustrare.122 The peristiarchoi, who were in
charge of ‘purifying’, with the blood of piglets, not only the assembly in
Athens (καθαίρειν τὴν ἐκκλησίαν), but also theatres as well as the other
meeting-places of the people,123 certainly accomplished a purificatory
action. However, at the same time, they did also the job of ‘definition’
and ‘protection’: they circumscribed, they defined the outlines of a space
now ‘cleansed’, and therefore ‘protected’ against any kind of real or sym-
bolic evils and defilement, a place rendered by the ritual action hosios,
‘permitted by the gods’,124 and where humans can hereafter function as
a cohesive whole, with the divine agreement.
Second, as Versnel (1993:319) has rightly pointed out, ‘the circumambu-
latio formed an essential and recurrent element of the ceremonies’ (in the
several types of lustratio). In the ritual of Cato, this circular movement is
expressed by two verbs, circumago and circumfero, ‘to drive’ or ‘to carry
around’. Now, from a Greek point of view, this ritual encirclement is
a standard feature of purificatory actions, using different kinds of cathartic
means, and not only animals as in the case of peristiarchoi. As Parker rightly
points out (1983:225–6), verbs like ‘purify in a circle’ (περικαθαίρω) ‘were
used even when there was no actual encirclement’. For a Greek, there is
a close relation between purification and going round a person, an object,
a place. No doubt for this reason, a Greek author like Appian, describing
what Romans called the lustratio classis, the lustration of the fleet per-
formed by Octavian (36 bce), uses the Greek vocabulary proper to pur-
ifications. Octavian ‘was purifying’ the fleet (ἐκάθαιρεν); the priests carry
the ‘purificatory victims’ (τὰ καθάρσια) in ships three times round the fleet
(περιφέρουσιν); the generals beseech the gods to turn the bad omens
against the ‘purificatory victims’ (τὰ καθάρσια) instead of against the
fleet; then, dividing the entrails, they cast a part of them into the sea and
burn the remainder on the altars. And Appian concludes: ‘In this way the
Romans purify the fleet’ (οὔτω μὲν Ῥωμαῖοι τὰ ναυτικὰ καθαίρουσιν).125

122
This verb appears also in the text of Cato (141. 4: lustrandi), and it is almost always translated as
‘purify’. Contra: Scheid (2005:145–52), who supports the sense of ‘defend’ (see above and note 120;
but cf. Scheid (1990:448).) Anyway, the verb lustrare is associated, for example, in Ovid (Met. 7. 261)
with water, fire and sulphur, three purifying instruments, frequent in a cathartic context.
123
Harp. and Souda, s.v. καθάρσιον; Schol. Ar. Ach. 44 (see also above, notes 24 and 105).
124
On the meaning of hosios, with regard to purity and to pollution, cf. Parker (1983:330).
125
App. BCiv. 5.10.96.
132 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
Third, scholars do not generally pay attention to the fact that, in the
ritual recommended by Cato, the three animals led around are all suckling
ones (lactentia). It is usually said that the use of very young animals is
something normal in the case of domestic cults, since fully grown victims
were destined for public ceremonies. Once more, I would say that this
argument, based only on financial considerations, does not seem to me very
satisfactory. Greek cult practices, for example, either domestic or public,
show a great variety with regard to the age of animal victims. Now,
according to the passages of Varro and Pliny, cited above (notes 117 and
118), young animals were regarded as naturally ‘pure’, ready to be sacrificed
to gods. There was no need to submit them to a close examination in order
to verify, among other things, their purity, as people used to do with adult
victims. If that is the case, we could say that young animals, because of their
pure nature, their pure blood, were perhaps considered as the most appro-
priate agents of purification, capable to absorb and sweep off all kinds of
impurities as, for example, the blood of murder, which Euripides desig-
nates by the term μυσαρός (‘dirty, defiled’).126 The pure blood of such
victims would thus be considered as similar to the cathartic or lustral water,
another powerful agent of purification, a pure substance, drawn sometimes
from a flowing source.127 If so, I would say that the ‘pure’ has the power to
wash away the ‘impure’, contrary to the idea, supported by Rudhardt and
many other scholars, that the ‘similar attracts the similar’ (see above).
These reflections do not, certainly, put an end to the discussion about
the complicated relations between sacrifice and purification, or the status
of the purificatory victims. It is well known that, for the most part, Greek
cult practices do not have a single meaning and cannot be interpreted in
a one-sided manner. We could say that the most interesting and exciting
aspect of studies on ancient Greek religion is precisely its polysemy.

Appendix: The Eupatridai and the ‘Purification of Suppliants’

Even if animal blood remains a very important cathartic agent, especially in
a case of murder, it is not always indispensable for purifying a suppliant –
whether a homicide or not. Mythological tradition sometimes refers to
celebrated killers purified by water, particularly water of springs and rivers,

126
Eur. IT 1123–4: with the blood (φόνῳ) of ‘new born lambs’ Iphigeneia will wash away the defiled
blood (φόνον μυσαρόν) of Orestes and Pylades (see above).
127
Parker (1983:226–7, 371. The accent is frequently put on the ‘purity’ of certain waters, particularly of
the seawater, considered as ‘undefiled, pure’ (ἀμίαντος): cf. Ginouvès (1962:405–6).
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 133
as Alcmaeon, Cadmus, Heracles, Achilles etc.128 It is significant that
Apollo, a god particularly concerned with purity, but at the same time
‘impure’, struck sometimes by a ‘murderous fury’,129 very probably used
the water of a river in order to purify himself after the slaying of the dragon
Pytho at Delphi.130
All these mythical traditions describe purifications by washing, without
excluding, for the same person guilty of murder, other cathartic proce-
dures. Most of the time, killers are said to be purified by certain persons
(kings, healer-seers, purifiers, gods etc.),131 without any mention of the
purificatory means employed for this purpose. Now, I would like to finish
with some succinct reflections on water, as an efficient and sufficient
cathartic agent, by a question regarding not mythical events, but historical
facts.
I am concerned with a short and not at all explicit passage of Athenaeus
(9.410b), referring to an obscure excerpt from the patria (the ancestral
customs, the traditional regulations) of the Athenian genos of the
Eupatridai, cited by the grammarian Dorotheos (παρέθετο ταῦτα καὶ
Δωρόθεος).132 This fragment refers briefly to some actions concerning the
‘purification of suppliants’ (περὶ τῆς τῶν ἱκετῶν καθάρσεως): ‘then, after
you133 and the other σπλαγχνεύοντες have washed yourselves, take water
and purify, wash away the blood of him who is being purified and after
that, having stirred the dirty water (τὸ ἀπόνιμμα ἀνακινήσας), pour it into
the same place’.134

128
The matricide Alcmaeon is purified (καθαίρεται) by the river Acheloos (Apollod. Bibl. 3.7.5);
Cadmus, the killer of the dragon, purified himself with the water of the spring Dirce (Nonnus,
Dion. 5. 1–4); Heracles: see note 88; Achilles ‘sprinkled himself’ (περιρράνασθαι) with the water of a
spring, after he had killed Trimbelus, king of the Leleges (Ath. 2.43d). For another kind of
purification of Achilles (from the murder of Thersites), see above.
129
See the subtle analysis by Detienne (1998) of this dark aspect of Apollo.
130
The purification of Apollo, accomplished on the orders of Zeus, can be reconstructed by the
collation of some sources: paean to Apollo by Aristonoos (Powell, Coll. Alex. i. 17–18, p. 162–4);
Plut. Quaest. Graec. 12, Mor. 293C and De def. or. 15, Mor. 418B; Ael. VH 3.1 etc. The river in
question is very probably Peneus which runs through the middle of Tempe, the Thessalian
mountains. In the waters of this river Apollo had washed his hands clean (ἀπενίψατο τὰς χεῖρας
ἐν τῷ Πηνειῷ, see Pfeiffer (1949:95). Ginouvès (1962:324) casts doubt on the purification of Apollo
by water, but he seems unaware of some texts.
131
Cf. Parker (1983:375–92 (Appendix 7)).
132
On Dorotheos of Askalon, who lived in the time of the early Empire, see Jacoby (1949:16 n° 7, and
254 notes 77–8). On the Eupatridai, see Parker (1996a: esp. 63–5, 323–4).
133
Presumably a member of the Eupatridai who functions as purifier, but not the suppliant himself, as
Rudhardt says (1958:271). See Robertson’s sound remarks (2010:367).
134
The ἀπόνιμμα is, in general, synonym of ἀπόνιτρον (Hsch. s.v.; cf. Ar. Ach. 616), that is water used
for washing and then thrown away. Therefore it is ‘not drinkable’ (ἄποτον) and ‘useless’
(ἄχρηστον), as says Atremidorus (4.41). In this sense, the translation ‘eau lustrale’ by Moulinier
134 s t e l l a g e o r g ou d i
This fragment poses at least two problems. In the first place, for most
scholars, the ritual attributed here to the Eupatridai describes the purifica-
tion of a suppliant who had committed homicide. This is not impossible,
taking into account that a murderer can also be purified by water as it is
previously said. Nevertheless, a suppliant, an ἱκέτης, is not always a killer,
as Jacoby rightly observed long ago, referring to this passage.135
In the second place, according to an interpretation largely accepted, the
term οἱ σπλαγχνεύοντες translated in similar ways,136 denotes actually a
sacrifice, in fact, ‘since it includes the communal tasting of the innards
(σπλάγχνα) . . . a normal sacrifice’.137 But other scholars go further,
suggesting the existence of two sacrifices. Robertson, for example, asserts
‘that a piglet has been slaughtered so as to sprinkle the suppliant with
blood’. But the organs eaten by the σπλαγχνεύοντες ‘do not come’ from
this piglet: ‘the animal is much too small’. So after this ‘purification comes
a sacrifice’, where the σπλαγχνεύοντες ‘are to dine on the spitted and
roasted organs’. A similar idea was formulated before by Parker: if we take
for granted the ‘inedibility of purificatory sacrifices’, we may suppose that
the σπλαγχνεύοντες did not eat ‘the same animal as was used for purifica-
tion. Possibly, after the formal purification, representatives of the state
admitted the suppliant by sharing a fresh sacrifice with him.’138
We can certainly discuss or accept these suggestions. However, I would
like to propose another hypothesis. Firstly, I would say that, in this
fragment, nothing shows that the purifier performs a sacrifice, or that we
have to do with two sacrifices. Secondly, as is explicitly stated, the suppliant
is purified by water which, as it is repeatedly noted, has the power to cleanse
a suppliant, guilty of homicide or not. It is not necessary, in this case, to use
the blood of a piglet or of another victim as purificatory agent.139 But if it is
so, how can we understand the term σπλαγχνεύοντες, which, at first sight,
seems to point to a collective eating of the σπλάγχνα, after a sacrificial

(1952:80) is misleading, even if in Athenaeus it is mentioned in a purificatory context. Ginouvès

(1962:211 n. 1, 244 n. 11, 323 n. 1) does not translate the word.
135
Jacoby (1949:254 n. 78. For Robertson also (2010:367 and n. 59), this ‘purifying ritual’ is not
‘associated with blood’ [as says Parker (1983:371 n. 9]), ‘i.e. with homicide’; this passage speaks ‘of
the treatment of suppliants . . . unrestricted’.
136
Cf. in the Loeb’s edition of Athenaeus: ‘the other participants of the sacrifice’; Detienne (1977:178):
‘les co-mangeurs des viscères’; Burkert (2000:211): ‘the others too who share eating the entrails’;
Robertson (2010:367): ‘the others partaking of the organs’ etc. See also Harrison (1922:60), who
gives another, rather inaccurate, sense to the word: ‘the others who disembowelled the victim’.
137
Jameson, Jordan and Kotansky (1993:75). Cf. in the same sense, Detienne (1977:178) and Burkert
(2000:211).
138
Robertson (2010:367 and n. 60); Parker (1983:283 and n. 11).
139
Cf. Tresp (1914:41–2) who thinks of the sacrifice of a ram.
 Sacrifice and Purification in the Greek World 135
ritual? I think that it is possible to consider this word as a generic name
designating a group of persons, perhaps an inner circle of Eupatridai, who
usually share a communal meal of the inner organs during the sacrifices of
the genos. This group could probably have the responsibility for the
‘purification of suppliants’, according to the patria of their genos. If this
is the case, the participle σπλαγχνεύοντες would be used substantively and
could be compared with other generic names qualifying certain groups, as
ὁμοτράπεζοι (eating at the same table), ὁμόσιτοι (eating together),
σύσσιτοι (messmates), συνθύται (fellow-sacrificers) etc., names which
indicate in fine the comrades.
However that may be, this suggestion has certainly no exclusive value;
because, with such a laconic and lacunose text, we walk on a quicksand,
remaining anyway within the sphere of probabilities.140

140
Since the writing of this paper, two important works on sacrifice have been published: Greek and
Roman Animal Sacrifice: Ancient Victims, Modern Observers, edited by Christopher A. Faraone and
F. S. Naiden (Cambridge University Press, 2012), and particularly F. S. Naiden, Smoke Signals for
the Gods: Ancient Greek Sacrifice from the Archaic through Roman Periods (Oxford University Press,
2013). Both of them raise significant questions about the meanings, the functions and the
importance of what is called in Greek ‘sacrifice’ (thusia), and especially ‘animal sacrifice’. F. S.
Naiden criticizes mainly the approaches of Walter Burkert, Jean-Pierre Vernant and Marcel
Detienne; he blames them, among other issues, for overestimating the ‘animal sacrifice’, thus
minimizing other forms of offering (for instance, vegetal sacrifices), or for ignoring the funda-
mental role of gods or priests. Emphasizing the Greek gods, and what he calls the ‘theistic’ character
of Greek sacrifices (against the ‘ritualistic’), the author also seeks to explore Christian attitudes
towards Greek animal sacrifice and to compare Greek, Hebrew and Christian ideas and practices on
sacrifice. This multi-sided study, apart from eventual agreements or disagreements (see above,
note 85), deserves to become the object of a circumstantial and attentive review, which cannot be
treated here (cf. the critical point of view of Jan-Mathieu Carbon in Kernos 26 (2013:384–8)).
Having contributed to The Cuisine of Sacrifice among the Greeks (some theses of which I have tried
to reconsider, during the last few years, as already mentioned above), I hope to return later to F. S.
Naiden’s work (but also to the collective book edited by him and Faraone), in order to discuss
certain ideas and assertions of the author(s), thus exchanging views on sacrifice, this crucial and
complicated topic of ancient Mediterranean religions.
I am deeply grateful to Sarah Hitch and to Maro Prevelakis for reading my English text, and
proposing corrections. All errors are, nevertheless, mine.
 chapter 5

“Polis Religion” and Sacrificial Regulation

Fred Naiden

Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood’s concept of “polis religion” has undergone

criticism in recent years, notably by Julia Kindt.1 Overlooked by Kindt and
others is the role of the religious regulations of the polis, especially regula-
tions of animal sacrifice. These regulations coexisted with sacrificial reg-
ulation by associations such as the orgeōnes of Athens. Sourvinou-Inwood
was well aware of these associations, and briefly compared them to the polis.
This chapter will compare them, too, while asking a question inspired by
the concept of “polis religion”: did polis regulations dictate or control the
regulations of the associations?
Sourvinou-Inwood did not suppose that polis religion excluded religious
activity by worshippers other than the community as a whole. In “Further
Aspects of Polis Religion” she said,
The fact that the central focus . . . of Greek religion was ritual, and not the
personal inner spiritual experience, and that much ritual activity took place
in groups, must not be taken to entail that Greek religion is a “group
religion” in the sense that group worship was the norm and individual cultic
acts somehow were exceptional. In my view, the individual was without
doubt the primary, basic, cultic unit in polis religion.2
This recognition of the role of individuals precedes a remark about sacrifice,
The individual sacrifice is a recognized cult act.3
Individual acts of sacrifice might be the work of persons acting on their
own, or of those acting as members of groups. Concerning the second
possibility, she says,
The polis regulates the religious discourse of its subdivisions.

1
Kindt (2009) preceded by Burkert (2000) and Jameson (2000), Burkert (1995) and Davies (1988), and
followed by Naiden (2013b).
2
Sourvinou-Inwood (1988:264). 3 Sourvinou-Inwood (1988:265, 270).

136
 “Polis Religion” and Sacrificial Regulation 137
She gives only one example of such “subdivisions,” the oikos, about which
she says,
Oikos cults . . . are regulated by the polis.4
Sourvinou-Inwood did not mention associations, but surely included them
among her “subdivisions,” and so she was envisioning a situation in which
the polis regulated not only communal and household cults, but also the
cults of groups. If groups issued regulations of their own, these regulations
would be subordinate to those of the polis:
The polis was the institutional authority that structured the universe and the
divine world in a religious system, and established a system of cults,
particular rituals and sanctuaries . . . it was the ordered community, the
polis, which assumed the role played in Christianity by the Church.5
If the polis resembled the church, the associations would resemble
parishes – small units with rules of limited scope. The polis would provide
the rules that created an “ordered community.”
The first part of this chapter turns to the associations’ regulations in
order to show that the polis did not regulate the associations, as Sourvinou-
Inwood thought, but that the associations regulated themselves. Their
regulations resembled polis regulations, but the relation between the two
was reciprocal, not hierarchical. The second part of the chapter suggests
a reason for this situation. Sacrificial regulations, the Athenians supposed,
began not with the polis, but with divine pronouncements. Groups like
associations built upon these pronouncements. The polis and its regula-
tions came later. The regulation of sacrifice was partly communal, but not
originally so or entirely so.
For familiar reasons, this chapter deals only with Athenian regulations.
It also omits regulations issued by demes, phratries, and genē as opposed
to associations of orgeōnes and thiasōtai. The first three groups were
constituents of the polis; the demes were a topographical and political
subdivision, and the other two were demographic elements. For all three,
the model of a church and its parishes is plausible. Any community must
have territorial parts, and it may also have ethnic parts. If the community

4
This is true of some cults conducted outside the home, such as funerary cults, and of sacrificial
associations identified by the building, or oikos, in which they met (LSAM 20.15, 33, LSCG 118.22, 38)
but it is not true of cults conducted within the home, such as the cult of Hestia. Regulation of cult at
household doors: LSAM 33.b.86–7.
5
Sourvinou-Inwood (1990:302).
138 fre d nai d en
provided for common sacrifices, as Athens did, these parts may well have
provided (and did provide) for additional sacrifices conducted in the
same way. Evidence to this effect appears in the monographs of David
Whitehead and Steven Lambert.6 The orgeōnes and thiasōtai studied in
the monographs of Nicolas Jones, Paulin Ismard, and Ilias Arnaoutoglou
were not constituents of the polis, and these scholars have not examined
them from the triple perspective of sacrifice, regulations, and the model
of “polis religion.”7

Associations and Their Rules

The place to begin would be a general statement about the relation
between polis sacrifices and those performed by associations. The one
statement of this kind appears in a very late source, the Digest of
Justinian:
Associates are those who are of the same group. The Greeks call such a group
a hetaireia. The statute lets them make what by-laws they like, so long as
they do no harm to anything in a public law. This statute seems to derive
from a law of Solon, which says, “If an agreement is made by a deme or
phratry members or (?) of sacred rites or sailors or tablemates or members of
a burial society or of a thiasos engaged in piracy or commerce, it will be valid
unless it contravenes polis regulations.”8
This law does not mention orgeōnes or religious thiasōtai, but evidently
includes them among the associations free to establish by-laws that do not
“contravene polis regulations.” The law says nothing about the polis
providing charters for associations, and so it does not make associations
subordinate to the polis in the way that modern states make chartered or

6
Whitehead (1986:127–8, 142–3) on sacrifices by demes; Lambert (1999:75), holding that the genē and
phratries performed fewer sacrifices than the orgeōnes.
7
Jones (1999:216–18), a brief treatment; Ismard (2010:ch. 1), setting forth a scheme of historical
development for the associations; and Arnaoutoglou (2003:ch. 3), not discussing sacrificial rules as
opposed to other rules. Selected older bibliography on orgeōnes: Foucart (1873:5–7), comparing them
to modern corporations; Stengel (1898:188) likewise; Ferguson (1944) on heroic sacrifices by associa-
tions; Thomson (1949:112) on their pre-polis origins; and sundry remarks at Parker (1996a:333–42).
8
Dig. 47.22.4 (Gaius 4 ad l. xii tab.):
Sodales sunt, qui eiusdem collegii sunt: quam graeci hetaireian vocant. his autem potestatem facit
lex pactionem quam velint sibi ferre, dum ne quid ex publica lege corrumpant. sed haec lex videtur ex
lege solonis tralata esse. nam illuc ita est: ἐὰν δἐ δῆμος ἢ φρἀτορες ἢ ἱερῶν ὀργιῶν ἢ ναῦται ἢ σὐσσιτοι
ἢ ὁμόταφοι ἢ θιασῶται ἢ ἐπὶ λείαν οἰχόμενοι ἢ εἰς ἐμπορίαν, ὃτι ἂν τούτων διαθῶνται πρὀς
ἀλλήλους, κύριον εἶναι, ἐὰν μὴ ἀπαγορεύσῃ δημόσια γράμματα.
Bibliography: Whitehead (1977:88); also Sourvinou-Inwood (1988:269).
 “Polis Religion” and Sacrificial Regulation 139
incorporated groups subordinate. By speaking of “valid agreements,” the
law implies that the association may have its regulations enforced by polis
courts.
In a word, sacrificial associations could establish “by-laws” as opposed to
customs, laws, or decrees.9 “By-law” is the appropriate term, not “custom,”
because these regulations not only enjoined duties and applied to all group
members, just as a custom might, but also were enforced by group officers
and contained sanctions, mainly fines.10 “By-law” is better than “law” or
“decree” because the enforcement of these regulations and the collection of
the fines were issues that might end up in polis courts. Unlike some laws,
by-laws did not provide severe sanctions such as death or exile. Since by-
laws prohibited particular conduct, not general conduct, they differed
from the polis law on asebeia. (The polis law on asebeia could apply to
particular conduct, too, but every case we know of involves polis sacrifices,
not sacrifices made by groups.11) For the most part, by-laws resembled
psephismata in the fourth-century sense of this term. They differed from
nomoi in the fourth-century sense.
Sourvinou-Inwood’s statement that the polis “regulated religious dis-
course” finds no echo in the law of Solon, or in IG. This and other relevant
corpora do not contain a single polis law or decree regulating sacrifices by
Athenian associations. There must have been some such enactments, for
example, a decree about the Thracian worshippers of Bendis, who, as
foreigners, needed the approval of the polis for establishing a shrine, but
it is significant that none of these enactments has survived, whereas the
orgeōnes issued at least seventeen extant regulations, and probably three
more.12 This contrast confirms that the associations might make “what
laws they like.”
What use did the associations make of their liberty? Eleven of the twenty
regulations contain instructions to confer honors. The oldest decree of this
kind, from the fourth century, says, omitting most of the supplements:

9
For the distinction, see Naiden (2008:125–6).
10
I.e., a law would need to have four characteristics: universal applicability, provision of duties,
enforceability, and sanctions, as at Pospisil (1971:44–78), cited to this effect in Naiden (2008:125).
11
The sacrificial cases: Naiden (2013a:217–18), which include an incident involving Athenians at Delos.
A regulation in which misconduct during a sacrifice is made subject to the law on asebeia: SEG XI
1112 with Naiden (2008:134). A regulation in which other misconduct made sacrifice asebēs: LSAM 16.
25–7.
12
Seventeen resolutions: IG ii2 1252, 1255, 1283, 1315, 1325, 1326, 1327, 1328, 1329, 1337, 1361, 2499, 2501,
Agora 16.161[1], 16.161[2], Hesp. 10:56, 20, MDAI(A) 66:228, 4. Three more: IG ii2 1259, 1289, 1361. 11
with honors: IG ii2 1252, 1255, 1259, 1315, 1325, 1326, 1327, 1329, 1337, Hesp. 10:56, 20, MDAI(A) 66:228,
4. A case of a polis resolution that named priests for orgia: LSAM 23.2–6 (Erythrae, late 300s).
140 fre d nai d en
Mnesigeiton made a motion . . . since Mnesarchus has shown himself . . .
concerning the people . . . and well-intentioned . . . to the orgeōnes, [they
have resolved to praise] Mnesarchus.13
Having appointed an officer like Mnesarchus, and assigned him sacrificial
duties, the orgeōnes proceed to find him satisfactory, and reward him.
Rather than act in the name of the polis, the orgeōnes act in their own
names.
Other resolutions explain what a man like Mnesarchus did: perform
such tasks as preparing sacrificial accessories, assigning priestly portions,
and dividing meat among those in attendance, and, to turn from any one
aspect of sacrifice to general requirements, acting as a host, conducting
sacrifices kata ta patria, and complying with instructions in a cult calendar.
Financial requirements include taking charge of association funds and
avoiding overspending.14 The requirement to conduct sacrifices kata ta
patria included everything from the color of sacrificial animals to providing
a table for vegetal offerings, from the time and place for a sacrifice to the
identification of some group on whose behalf the sacrifice occurred.
As I have argued elsewhere, beauty was part of ta patria, and so one
regulation specifies that an assistant to a priestess must place coverlets on
a certain number of thrones “as elegantly as possible.”15 The diversity of
these tasks points to the same conclusion as before: rather than be regulated
by the polis, the orgeōnes regulated themselves.
In light of this various, detailed regulation, it seems odd that only a few
resolutions provide punishments for failing to perform sacrificial tasks.
One imposes a 50-drachma fine for priestesses who do not prepare sacri-
ficial accoutrements such as coverlets for thrones. A second imposes an
unspecified fine for sacrificing in the wrong part of a shrine; it also imposes
a punishment of expulsion from the association, or literally, loss of

13
Hesperia 10:56, 20:
Μνησιγείτων εἶπεν· [ἔδοξεν τοῖς ὀργεῶσι]·
ἐπειδὴ Μνήσαρχος [ἀνὴρ ἀγαθός ἐστι πε]-
ρὶ τὸν δῆμον τὸ[ν Ἀθηναίων καὶ ἀποδεί]-
κνυται εὔνο[υς ὢν καὶ ἀεὶ φιλοτιμού]-
μενος τ̣[ῶι τε δήμωι καὶ τῶι κοινῶι τῶι ὀ]-
ργεών<ων>· δε̣ [δόχθαι τοῖς ὀργεῶσι· ἐπαινέσαι]
[Μ]νήσαρ[χον
14
Accessories: IG ii2 1328.8–14. Priestly portions: 1361.7–8. Meat: 1255.5–6, Agora 16.161[1].
18–24,16.161[2].18–24. Host: Agora 16.161[1].12–24. Kata ta patria: IG ii2 1283.25–6, 1289.6–8, 1325.
23–4, 1326.11–13, 1327.7–8. Cult calendar: Agora 16.161[1].13–6. Taking charge of association funds:
IG ii2 1252.12–14, 1325.23–4, 1326.10–13, 1327.8–14. Avoiding overspending: Agora 16.161[1].17,
16.161[2].17.
15
An assistant: IG ii2 1328.16–7. Coverlets: 1328.9–10. As elegantly as possible: Naiden (2013a:210–11).
 “Polis Religion” and Sacrificial Regulation 141
participation in the association’s business, for any member who votes or
proposes to alter a by-law on priestly portions, maintenance of the shrine,
and other topics. A third imposes a contribution akin to a fine: if non-
members sacrificed at the shrine of one association, they had to give
portions of a sacrificial animal to the priest or priestess.16 A fourth punishes
those who fail to publish the honors given to Mnesarchus and others like
him. Other, fragmentary resolutions may have done likewise.17 The worst
punishment is expulsion from the association, not a heavy fine or incar-
ceration, still less death.
A feature lying in the background of all these regulations can account for
infrequent, light punishment. Tradition, ta patria, dictates most features of
sacrifice, and the association assumes that worshippers will respect tradi-
tion. If the associations alter tradition, or add to it, they want to be sure
their innovations are carried out, and so they issue the occasional instruc-
tion, and sometimes add a punishment. They prefer to grant the honors
that encourage members to preserve tradition. Tradition of this kind does
not depend on “polis religion.” It is compatible with the “folk religion” that
Martin Nilsson thought was fundamental for Greek religious practices,
and the similar, rural religion that Louis Gernet thought was the original
form of Greek religious expression.18 The associations, after all, were far
older than the democratic polis established after Clisthenes. They were
perhaps older than the reforms of Solon and Draco. Under these circum-
stances, the associations must have been competent to regulate their long-
established rites.
The polis had one role to play in the association’s regulations – policeman.
If instructions were disobeyed, or punishments thwarted, the association
would turn to the courts of the polis for help. As it happens, only one
inscription illustrates this recourse. It deals with a matter other than sacrifice,
but it does show orgeōnes resorting to a public arbitrator.19 Similarly, frag-
ments of a speech by Lycurgus imply that genē in charge of sacrifices some-
times took their business to polis courts.20 The lack of additional examples
implies that this recourse was seldom necessary. Just as the polis seldom
regulated the associations’ sacrifices, it seldom adjudicated legal business
16
Fine for priestess: IG ii2 1328.8–14. Fine for sacrificing in the wrong place: IG ii2 1361.7–8. Expulsion:
1361.13–14. Sacrifice by non-members: 1361.2–7.
17
MDAI(A) 66:228, 4.17–19.
18
Nilsson (1940:82), where the orgeōnes are formed on popular initiative, but not communal initiative;
Gernet (1932:123–4) agreeing, but positing a struggle between the orgeōnes and the nobility.
19
IG ii2 1289, pitting two associations against each other in a dispute about sacred property.
20
Harp. s.v. Κοιρανίδαι, a dispute over a priesthood between the Croconidai and the Coiranidai, as at
Parker (1996a:302–4).
142 fre d nai d en
arising from sacrifice. (These conclusions about the orgeōnes partly hold good
for groups of thiasōtai, but there is less evidence.21)
The relation between the associations’ regulations and the regulations of
the polis was twofold. On the one hand, the polis did much of what the
associations did. If it changed ta patria, it issued instructions to priests and
others, but it seldom prescribed punishments for violations of laws about
sacrifice, and when it did, it acted like the orgeōnes. Just as they fined
a priestess for mishandling coverlets, the polis fined officials who commit an
offense such as delaying the Panathenaic procession. Just as the orgeōnes
fined those who sacrifice in the wrong part of the shrine, the polis fined
those who abuse sacred space in either this way or others, such as causing
nuisances on the Acropolis. Just as the orgeōnes fined those who fail to
provide for the maintenance of the shrine, the polis fined those who waste
or misuse the natural resources found in shrines.22 As a last resort, the polis,
like the orgeōnes, turned to the courts. The two kinds of regulation ran
parallel to each other.
On the other hand, the two sometimes overlapped one another. One
resolution of an association begins:
Resolved by the orgeōnes. Since Serapion etc. was established as caretaker for
the year etc. and has made the proper sacrifices in the shrine and sacrificed
successfully on behalf of the association of the orgeones and their wives and
children and the people of Athens, and has taken good and handsome care
of the orgeones throughout the year, and has served the gods with his own
money.23
The orgeōnes were sacrificing for the polis, not just themselves and their
families, and so these sacrifices overlapped with communal ones. Because
polis sacrifices were sometimes made on the behalf “of wives and children
and the people,” the overlap is all the more obvious.24

21
Thiasōtai punished for not announcing honors: IG ii2 1263.43–5, 1273.21–3. Accusations of violating
by-laws: 1275.14–17, 1297.17–18.
22
Procession late: Syll. 271.31–5. Nuisances on the Acropolis: LSCG 3.5–11, 21–2, 14–17. Waste or
misuse of natural resources in shrines: IG i3 78a.55–9; IG ii2 1362.7–15, 1177.17–21.
23
MDAI(A) 66:228, 4.2–8:
[ἔ]δοξεν τοῖς ὀργεῶσιν· ἐπειδὴ Σεραπίων Ποσειδωνίου Ἡρακλεώτ[ης]
ἐπιμελητὴς κατασταθεὶς εἰς τὸν ἐπὶ Διοκλέους ἄρχοντος ἐνιαυτ[ὸν]
τάς τε θυσίας ἔθυσεν τοῖς θεοῖς τὰς καθηκούσας ἐν τῶι ἱερῶι καὶ [ἐ]-
καλλιέρησεν ὑπέρ τε τοῦ κοινοῦ τῶν ὀργεώνων καὶ παίδων καὶ γ[υναι]-
κῶν καὶ τοῦ δήμου τοῦ Ἀθηναίων, ἐπεμελήθη δὲ καὶ ὀργε[ώνων]
καλῶς καὶ εὐσχημόνως ἐν ὅλωι τῶι ἐνιαυτῶι, ἐθεράπευσεν [δὲ καὶ τοὺς]
θεοὺς ἐκ τῶν ἰδίων,
24
A different view of this inscription: Naiden (2013a:194). Wives and children: Naiden (2013a:186).
 “Polis Religion” and Sacrificial Regulation 143
Sometimes the overlap involved other topics. When the polis gave the
worshippers of Bendis the right to own a shrine, the association not only
acted on behalf of both the city and the association, but also obeyed the
laws of the city as well as the association’s customs. The background is that
some of the worshippers of this goddess, who were orgeōnes in Piraeus,
resolved to help others who were in Athens, or as the resolution says, “in
town.” Both groups were Thracian.
In accordance with a prophecy from Dodona, the Athenian people gave to
the Thracians, and to no other ethnos, the right to own and found a shrine
and hold a parade starting from the hearth in the Prytaneum . . . So that the
orgeōnes may plainly obey the polis law that bids the Thracians to hold the
parade going into Piraeus and may plainly cooperate with the worshippers
in town, the orgeōnes resolve to help run whatever parade the townsmen
prefer and to lead it from the Prytaneum into Piraeus . . . whenever there are
sacrifices let the priest and priestess pray for the orgeōnes in town in the same
way as for the rest . . . and let the whole ethnos be of one mind when the
sacrifices to the gods occur, along with everything else that is fitting
according to the customs of the Thracians and the laws of the polis.25
This episode suggests that two or more associations might cooperate with
one another, as well as with the polis.26

25
IG ii2 1283.4–16, 19–26:
ἐπειδὴ τοῦ δήμου τοῦ Ἀθηναίων δεδωκότος τοῖς Θραιξὶ μ-
όνοις τῶν ἄλλων ἐθνῶν τὴν ἔγκτησιν καὶ τὴν ἵδρυσιν τοῦ
ἱεροῦ κατὰ τὴν μ[α]ντείαν τὴν ἐγ Δωδώνης καὶ τὴν πονπὴν π-
ένπειν ἀπὸ τῆς ἑστίας τῆς ἐκκ τοῦ πρυτανείου καὶ νῦν οἱ
ἡι[ρη]μένοι ἐν τῶι ἄστει κατασκευάσασθαι ἱερὸν οἴοντα-
ι δεῖν οἰκείως διακεῖ[σθ]αι πρὸς ἀλλήλους· ὅπως ἂν οὖν φα-
[ίν]ωνται καὶ οἱ ὀργεῶνες τῶι τε τῆς πόλεως νόμωι πειθαρ-
χοῦντες ὃς κελεύει τοὺς Θρᾶικας πέμπειν τὴμ πομπὴν εἰ-
[ς Π]ε[ι]ραιᾶ καὶ πρὸς τοὺς ἐν τῶι ἄστει ὀργεῶνας οἰκείως [δ]-
ιακείμενοι· v ἀγαθεῖ τύχει δεδόχθαι τοῖς ὀργεῶσιν v [τὴ]-
[ν μὲν] πονπὴ[ν ὡ]ς ἂν [ἕ]λωνται οἱ ἐν τῶι ἄστει συνκαθι[στάνα]-
ι τὴμ πομπὴν καὶ τήνδε <ο>ὖν ἐκ τοῦ πρυτανείου εἰς Πει[ραιᾶ]
πορεύεσσθαι ἐν τῶι αὐτῶι τοῖς ἐκ τοῦ Πειραιέως·
ὅταν δὲ ὦσιν αἱ θυσίαι εὔ[χεσθαι]
τὸν ἱερέα καὶ τὴν ἱέρειαν πρὸς ταῖς εὐχαῖς ἃς εὔ[χονται]
καὶ τοῖς ὀργεῶσι τοῖς ἐν τῶι ἄστει κατὰ ταὐτά, ὅ[πως ἂν τού]-
τῶν γινομένων καὶ ὁμονοοῦντος παντὸς τοῦ ἔθ[νους αἵ τ]-
ε θυσίαι γίνωνται τοῖς θεοῖς καὶ τὰ ἄλλα ὅσα πρ[οσήκει]
κατά τε τὰ πάτρια τῶν Θραικῶν καὶ τοὺς τῆς πόλ[εως νόμου]-
ς
Bibliography and background: Jones (1999:256–62).
26
So also Agora 16 161[1], where two associations have cooperated in the past, and one passes a decree to
continue to do so. This situation evokes a network as defined by Granovetter and Swedberg (1992),
144 fre d nai d en
In this instance, the orgeōnes were supporting the polis. In part, they were
seeking to repay a favor, for at some earlier time, the polis allowed the
Thracians to establish a shrine. In part, the orgeōnes were seeking to
strengthen their own customs by linking these customs to polis law.
The relation between the two sides was partly practical, partly ideological,
but always reciprocal, with a watchword of mutual gain and solidarity.27
The ideological cooperation between the two sides appears in a resolution
by a group of thiasōtai, who once again prove similar to orgeōnes. The
thiasōtai did not mention any laws of the polis, but they did mention
a law, or nomos, of their own:
If any one dies, let his son or mother or father take care of that, or whoever
in the thiasos is closest to him. They and all his friends should attend the
funeral procession. If anyone is wronged, they and his friends should help
him, so that all may know that we act piously towards the gods and our
friends. If people act this way, it will do them much good, and the same is
true for their descendants and their ancestors. Since the thiasōtai let the
law prevail, let nothing be stronger than the law. If anyone does or says
anything against the law, let any of the thiasōtai who wishes accuse him.
If he prevails against him, let the thiasōtai punish him however the
association resolves.28
The “law” in this resolution must be a by-law of the thiasos. The members
chose to give this by-law two trademarks of a polis law – ho boulomenos and
a trial before the collectivity, as indicated in the last few words. They are
imitating the polis, but for their own advantage.

i.e., collaboration among groups with weak links as opposed to the stronger links within households
or among citizens.
27
Another view of the orgeōnes and thiasōtai: Jones (1999:216–18), arguing that they caused social
differentiation.
28
IG ii2 1275.4–17:
[ωτῶν – — – — – — – — εἰὰν δέ τι]ς αὐτῶν ἀπογίγνητ-
[αι, φράσ]ει ἢ ὑὸ[ς ἢ μήτηρ? ἢ π]ατὴρ ἢ ὃς ἂν οἰκειότατ-
ος εἶ τοῦ θίασου, τοῦ δ’ ἀπογιγ̣νομένου̣ ἰέναι ἐπ’ ἐ-
χφορὰν καὶ αὐτοὺς καὶ τοὺς φίλους ἅπαντας ∶ καὶ ἄ-
ν τις ἀδικῆται, β̣οηθεῖν καὶ αὐτοὺς καὶ τοὺς φί-
λ̣ους ἅπαντας, ὅπως ἂν πάντες εἰδῶσιν ὅτι καὶ
εἰς τοὺς θεοὺς εὐσ̣εβοῦμεν καὶ εἰς τοὺς φίλους· τα-
ῦ̣ τα δὲ ποιοῦσιν αὐτοῖς πολλὰ κἀγαθὰ καὶ ἐγγόν-
οις καὶ προγόνοις. ἐπειδὰν δὲ κυρώσωσι τὸν νόμ-
ον οἱ θιασῶται, μηθὲν εἶναι τοῦ νόμου κυριώτερ-
ον· εἰὰν δέ τις παρὰ τὸν νόμον ἢ εἴπει ἢ πράξει, κα-
τηγορίαν αὐτοῦ εἶναι τῶι βουλομένωι τῶν θιασωτῶ-
ν, καὶ ἂν ἕλει αὐτὸν τιμάτωσαν αὐτὸν καθότι ἂν δο-
κεῖ τῶι κοινῶι.
 “Polis Religion” and Sacrificial Regulation 145
Scholars have recently debated whether the Athenians lived under the
rule of law.29 There need not be any debate about whether the associations
wished to live under nomos:
Plainly obey the polis law.
Let nothing be stronger than the law.
These statements did not imply, however, that sacrifices always pro-
ceeded according to law. They implied only that lawful sacrifice was
preferable. Sacrifices outside or against the law might well occur,
a possibility mentioned by several Classical authors. In Plato’s Laws, the
author’s mouthpiece says:
Shrines and cults are not easy things to establish. It requires much thought.
Here is a fault found in all women, and in the sick, the desperate, and the
hapless, either when they are at a loss or when they have some good luck . . .
They pray by means of sacrifices, and they promise to establish cults to gods,
spirits, and heroes . . . They fill every house and village with altars and
shrines in open spots and wherever people like them happen to be.30
But the worst news is not about groups of women. It is about groups of
impious persons:
The impious establish shrines and altars in private houses. They think to
win over the gods in secret, by means of sacrifices and prayers. They pile up
injustice with no limit and bring down divine accusations upon themselves
and those who are better than they are but tolerate them. The whole
community is “rewarded,” thanks to the impious, and justly, too.31
Although we may discount the bias expressed by this passage, we should
accept the idea that the Athenians thought that sacrifices by individuals
and groups could harm the community. Aeschines agreed that sacrifices by

29
Competing senses of the phrase “rule of law”: Gagarin (2004). Brief bibliography: Harris (2006:
xviii).
30
Pl. Lg. 10.909e–910a:
ἱερὰ καὶ θεοὺς οὐ ῥᾴδιον ἱδρύεσθαι, μεγάλης δὲ διανοίας τινὸς ὀρθῶς δρᾶν τὸ τοιοῦτον, ἔθος τε
γυναιξί τε δὴ διαφερόντως πάσαις καὶ τοῖς ἀσθενοῦσι πάντῃ καὶ κινδυνεύουσι καὶ ἀποροῦσιν, ὅπῃ
τις ἂν ἀπορῇ, καὶ τοὐναντίον ὅταν εὐπορίας τινὸς λάβωνται,καθιεροῦν τε τὸ παρὸν ἀεὶ καὶ θυσίας
εὔχεσθαι καὶ ἱδρύσεις ὑπισχνεῖσθαι θεοῖς καὶ δαίμοσιν καὶ παισὶν θεῶν, . . . βωμοὺς καὶ ἱερὰ πάσας
μὲν οἰκίας, πάσας δὲ κώμας ἔν τε καθαροῖς ἱδρυομένους ἐμπιμπλάναι καὶ ὅπῃ τις ἔτυχε τῶν
τοιούτων.
31
Pl. Lg. 10.910b:
ἱερά τε καὶ βωμοὺς ἐν ἰδίαις οἰκίαις ἱδρυόμενοι, λάθρᾳ τοὺς θεοὺς ἵλεως οἰόμενοι ποιεῖν θυσίαις τε
καὶ εὐχαῖς, εἰς ἄπειρον τὴν ἀδικίαν αὐξάνοντες αὑτοῖς τε ἐγκλήματα πρὸς θεῶν ποιῶνται καὶ τοῖς
ἐπιτρέπουσιν, οὖσιν αὐτῶν βελτίοσιν, καὶ πᾶσα οὕτως ἡ πόλις ἀπολαύῃ τῶν ἀσεβῶν τρόπον τινὰ
δικαίως.
146 fre d nai d en
impious persons could harm their neighbors, and so did Antiphon.32 Two
commonplace illustrations of this danger were an impious person attend-
ing (if not making) a sacrifice in a shrine, and spoiling the sacrifice for
everyone else, and an impious person making a voyage and ruining the
sacrifices made for a safe trip.33
If associations wrote and obeyed their by-laws, there would be none of
the chaos that Plato complains of. If they adhered to ta patria, there would
be no unwanted novelties. If they imitated the polis, the community and its
several parts would work to the same end, the genuine “reward” given by
divine favor, while avoiding the calamities mentioned by Aeschines and
Antiphon. Although the associations were not legally subordinate to the
polis, they were religiously akin. They feared the same gods for the same
reasons. Legal distinctions accompanied a fundamental religious similarity.

Sacrificial Aitia
To judge from Porphyry, the Athenians not only asked, but also answered,
the question of how sacrifice in their community originated. They did not
suppose that the polis established this ritual. Groups of worshippers did.
In response to this innovation, the gods gave their sanction, using more or
less legal language. Later regulation of ritual would develop the potential of
this initial legalization of sacrifice by Zeus or Delphi. Sacrifice was not
a matter of unwritten law given to mankind by the gods, as supplication
may have been, but it was a human contrivance with divine approval.34
Three aitia for Athenian animal sacrifice present the practice as
a contrivance of this kind. The source for these aitia, Porphyry, does not
approve of sacrifice, and dismisses all three as “indecent apologies.”35 This
attitude might make him reluctant to admit that the gods approved
sacrifice, yet he reports express approval in two of three cases. The third
case involves tacit approval. Each time, the language of approval is judicial
or legal.
The first case concerns the custom of sacrificing pigs in Attica:
The people link the slaughter of pigs to an involuntary wrong done by
Clymene. She struck the animal accidentally, and killed it.

32
Aeschin. 3.121, put in a general context in Naiden (2013a:ch.4), as are the subsequent passages in
Antiphon and the previous passage in Plato.
33
Shrine: Antipho 1.11. Voyage: 5.82–3.
34
Unwritten law: Harris (2004;25–9) followed by Naiden (2013a: ch.4). Supplication established by
Zeus in response to Ixion’s coming to an altar: A. Eu. 441, 717 with Naiden (2006a:10).
35
Porph. Abst. 2.10: οὐκ εὐαγῶν ἀπολογιῶν.
 “Polis Religion” and Sacrificial Regulation 147
After expressing his own disapproval of this “wrong,” Porphyry goes on to
report Apollo’s response:
Her father was worried about her, for she had acted lawlessly, and went to
Delphi and asked the oracle. The god accepted what had happened. For the
future, he determined that the business [of sacrifice] was a matter of
indifference.36
In this sketchy situation, some Athenian cults exist, but they exclude the
slaughter of animals. When the accident occurs, the polis does not interfere.
Instead, a senior worshipper turns to the source of religious norms at Delphi.
The oracle corrects the impression that the slaughter was paranomos. In the
future, the god implies, sacrificial slaughter would be nomimos.
The next aition is somewhat longer:
Episcopus, who was one of the theopropoi, wanted to make an aparchē of
sheep, and people say that he very discreetly accepted the oracle that goes
like this: “It isn’t themis for you to kill the perambulatory race of sheep . . .
If one of them nods willingly when water is poured, I say it is just to sacrifice
it, Episcopus.”37
In this version of early Athenian religion, cult once again exists, under the
theopropoi. The polis is once again missing, and the oracle once again
determines religious norms. The legal language of the previous example
has given way to specifically judicial language, for the sacrifice is now dikaios.
In the third aition, Porphyry gives an account of the Boufonia:
When he was priest of Zeus Polieus, Diomus was the first to slaughter an
ox . . . The ox tasted the sacred cake and he killed the creature, getting
everyone nearby to join in.38
This much-discussed passage, and others relating to the same festival, led
Walter Burkert and others to speculate that the Greeks felt guilty about

36
Porph. Abst. 2.9: τὴν μὲν γὰρ τῶν συῶν σφαγὴν ἀκουσίῳ ἁμαρτίᾳ Κλυμένης προσάπτουσιν,
ἀπροαιρέτως μὲν βαλούσης, ἀνελούσης δὲ τὸ ζῷον. διὸ καὶ εὐλαβηθέντα αὐτῆς τὸν ἄνδρα, ὡς
παράνομον διαπεπραγμένης, Πυθῶδε ἀφικόμενον χρήσασθαι τῷ τοῦ θεοῦ μαντείῳ. τοῦ δὲ θεοῦ τῷ
συμβάντι ἐπιτρέψαντος, ἀδιάφορον λοιπὸν νομίσαι τὸ γιγνόμενον.
37
Ibid: Ἐπισκόπῳ δέ, ὃς ἦν ἔκγονος τῶν Θεοπρόπων, βουληθέντι προβάτων ἀπάρξασθαι,
ἐπιτρέψαι μὲν φασὶ τὸ λόγιον, σὺν πολλῇ δ’ εὐλαβείᾳ. ἔχει γὰρ οὕτως· οὔ σε θέμις κτείνειν ὀίων
γένος ἐστὶ βέβαιον, ἔγγονε Θειοπρόπων· ὃ δ’ ἑκούσιον ἂν κατανεύσῃ χέρνιβ’ ἔπι, θύειν τόδ’,
Ἐπίσκοπε, φημὶ δικαίως.
ἔπι, θύειν τόδ’: Wolff. ἐπιθύειν τὸ δ’: mms.
38
Ibid: βοῦν δὲ Δίομος ἔσφαξε πρῶτος, ἱερεὺς ὢν τοῦ Πολιέως Διός, . . . ὁ βοῦς προσελθὼν
ἀπεγεύσατο τοῦ ἱεροῦ πελάνου· συνεργοὺς γὰρ λαβὼν τοὺς ἄλλους ὅσοι παρῆσαν, ἀπέκτεινε
τοῦτον.
148 fre d nai d en
killing animals.39 Whatever the attitude of the Greeks (or of Porphyry), the
elements in the scene are familiar: a cult, a local religious leader, no polis,
and a divine response to an inaugural sacrifice. The response differs from
before on two counts: it comes from Zeus, not Apollo, and it takes a new
form, the god’s tacit endorsement of a human court that fails to act against
the killers and that instead blames the weapon used to kill the ox.40
Another account appears in Eusebius, but unlike these three it does not
concern Athens. In this account, Porphyry reportedly says that Apollo’s
oracle prescribed sacrificial rules to the Greeks.41 In addition, Hesychius
gives a very brief account of the origin of Athenian sacrifice that lacks any
legal coloring.42 Neither account contradicts the main elements of the first
three – antecedent cults, local leaders, and their omission of the polis.
In sum, Athenian (and a few Greek) accounts of the origin of animal
sacrifice concentrate on cult; they assume a congregation of worshippers,
but not any form of political organization for the community. Legal or
judicial language appears, but seldom in the context of a legal system.
Instead this language legitimizes ta patria.
These aetia differ from Hesiod’s account of sacrifice in the Theogony and
the Works and Days. In these two poems, a Titan is the author of animal
sacrifice, or plays the main role in establishing it. No oracle sanctions the
offering, and no incident justifies the killing of the victim, an act that
goes unmentioned. Hesiod includes an aetion, but for the division of
the victim into two parts rather than for the slaughter of the victim.43
Is spite of these differences, a common feature links this pan-hellenic
account of sacrifice to Porphyry’s epichoric accounts. Hesiod shows the
perils of providing a sacrifice that is not acceptable, or, as other sources put
it, not euprosdektos.44 Worshippers must please a god, the concern of three
figures in Porphyry – Clymene’s father in the first aetion, Episcopus in
the second, and Diomus in the third.
In Hesiod and Porphyry, as in Plato, sacrifice can go wrong. In response,
both associations and the polis regulated it. Logically speaking, and mythi-
cally speaking, the polis and its institutions did not provide the impetus for

39
For the ample literature on this subject, see Henrichs (1996). A different view: Naiden (2013c).
Porphyry includes a very brief fourth account for the origin of the sacrifice of goats, but with no
details.
40 41
Paus. 1.28.10–11. Eus. PE 4.8.4–9.1.
42
Hesych. s.v. διος θᾶκοι καὶ πέσσοι, where Athena promises the first sacrifice to Zeus Polieus in
return for Zeus’s help against Poseidon.
43
Hes. Th. 516–607, esp. 535–7; Op. 47–8.
44
Euprosdektos: Naiden (2013a:115). A general statement of the problem of comparing local and
Panhellenic accounts: Price (1999:15).
 “Polis Religion” and Sacrificial Regulation 149
this regulation. The hopes and fears of the worshippers did. Ta patria
encouraged these hopes and assuaged these fears, and the associations,
through their by-laws, safeguarded ta patria. The polis, a latecomer to the
scene, supplied legal backing and legal language to the associations, and
cooperated with them. It did not create or run them. “Polis religion” gives
the polis too much credit, and it gives tradition and the associations too
little.45
As Kindt observed in her article, the concept of polis religion rests on the
assumption that a phenomenon like religion can be embedded in some
political entity. Kindt quotes Jan Bremmer to this effect:
In ancient Greece, . . . religion was totally embedded in society – no sphere
of life lacked a religious aspect.46
In arguing against this notion of “embeddedness,” Kindt observed that
some Greek religious practices had little to do with the polis.47 Although
this observation would not apply to animal sacrifice, another observation
of hers does apply, which is that Greek religious practices owed less to the
polis than to other elements in Greek life. One of these elements was
a propensity to regulate, a legal manifestation of the oft-remarked Greek
“epigraphical habit” – a habit that in the case of sacrifice was not exclusively
Athenian or democratic. Although evidence for orgeōnes and thiasōtai
mostly comes from Athens under the democracy, evidence for the regula-
tion of sacrifice is much broader, encompassing cities dominated by local
magistrates and cities under Roman rule.48
The last word in this essay belongs to the thiasōtai:
Let nothing be stronger than the law.
The thiasōtai did not say, “Let nothing be stronger than our association” or
“Let nothing be stronger than the polis.” These statements would have
invited nemesis. “Nothing stronger than the law” did not. The gods would
not have regarded the law as challenging them. Themis, Dike, and the
Nomoi were goddesses; Demeter was a goddess of thesmoi, and Zeus a god

45
Closer to the view of Sourvinou-Inwood: Ismard (2010: ch. 1), holding that the polis came to
dominate the associations in the fourth century.
46
Kindt (2009:12–15) quoting Bremmer (1994:2), who in turn draws upon Polanyi (1968).
47
Here she follows Burkert (1995:203).
48
Cf. Meritt (1940:89–93), supposing that this habit was a typically democratic one; Hedrick (1999:
387–8), replying that it was democratic, but fluctuated according to ideological shifts; and the
originator of the phrase, MacMullen (1982:245), warning that fluctuations might be misleading,
a point that may be adapted to the Athenian evidence, so that more or less epigraphical evidence for
regulation will not inspire mistaken conclusions about adherence to ta patria.
150 fre d nai d en
of oaths and magistrates. The word theoi, which appears atop Assembly
decrees, appears atop resolutions passed by associations, too.49 Even if the
subject was nuisances and coverlets, the laws and the by-laws ranked as
a kind of incidental holy writ, often changed, but always changed on the
pretext of fulfilling a purpose that could not and should not change.
The gods should be served, and served lawfully.
The legal element in Greek sacrifice emerges all the more strongly in the
light of several obvious comparisons. If we begin with the present – for
example, with religious life in the United Kingdom – the contents of the
communion cup or wafer are not regulated by law, or by any by-law that
a court will enforce; if kosher and halal butchering are regulated by law, the
reason is to protect public health, not to regulate sacrifice. At the opposite
extreme, animal sacrifice in ancient Egypt was not regulated by law, and
instead was prescribed by priests.50 In between these two extremes, animal
sacrifice in the Roman Republic was performed according to the law or
laws applicable to a shrine or altar, and gentilicia sacra resembled sacrifices
by Greek associations, but no by-law of any association survives.51 Nor do
associations pass by-laws in Leviticus 1–9, chapters which in other respects
have many Greek parallels.
The legal element in Greek sacrifice appears to be unique. New literary
or archaeological finds may yet prove this impression wrong, but it will
take many such finds to do it.

49
IG ii2 1314, 1315, 1337, 2499, SEG XXIV 203.
50
Lanciers (1993), describing how Egyptian and other foreign priests put Hellenistic rulers through
their sacrificial paces.
51
Laws of a shrine or altar: Wissowa (1912:472–3). Gentilicia (sometimes called privata) sacra: ibid.
403–5. No assemblies and decrees in Cicero’s idealized Roman religion: Cic. Leg. 2.19–22. Instead
Numa bulks larger than any Athenian legislator in matters religious (Liv. 1.20.4–5, Cic. Rep. 2.26–7).
 chapter 6

Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends

Jan-Mathieu Carbon

The butchering of the sacrificial animal and the post-sacrificial division of

meat forms an important but only impartially understood facet of the
study of Greek sacrifice.1 Part of the evidence for this subject comes from
the fairly abundant group of inscriptions, such as sacrificial calendars and
priestly contracts, which form the core of the epigraphical collection
known as ‘sacred laws’.2 These texts provide detailed information concern-
ing portions of meat granted to priests and other individuals, as well as
those portions set on the altar or cult-table for the god, two categories
which were closely connected or even considerably overlapped.
In what follows, it will be possible to provide at least a partial synopsis of
priestly perquisites, attested in these inscriptions according to a fascinat-
ingly diverse but coherent anatomical nomenclature.3 The overall theme of
this chapter will be, on the one hand, the commonalities manifest in Greek
sacrificial division, and on the other, the variety of declensions of meaty
perks observable in different locations (principally Athens and Ionian Asia
Minor). In particular, the essential priestly portion deserves to be viewed
in a wide perspective, and its correspondence with the divine share in
the sacrifice needs to be emphasised anew. The observations and reconsi-
derations offered here yield a clearer picture of the topology of the sacri-
ficial animal and can lead to a better understanding of the ways in which

* I am very grateful to Gunnel Ekroth, Robert Parker, and Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge for their
valuable comments on drafts of this chapter, as well as to Stéphanie Paul and Alex Herda for fruitful
discussions. I would also like to thank the editors for their perseverance and diligence with this
volume. This paper forms a part of the ongoing prolegomena to the ‘Collection of Greek Ritual
Norms’ F.R.S.-FNRS Project no. 2.4561.12 (University of Liège, Belgium), introduced in Carbon
and Pirenne-Delforge (2012).
1
See Ekroth (2007: 250–6) for an overview, and cf. now Ekroth (2011).
2
For a discussion and survey of ‘sacred laws’, see the first part of Lupu, NGSL, and cf. also now Carbon
and Pirenne-Delforge (2012).
3
Cf. already Stengel (1910) and Puttkammer (1912); more recently, Le Guen-Pollet (1991), esp. 20–2 on
the variety of vocabulary.

151
152 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
the divine and priestly portions were arranged and interrelated in the
carcass.4

The Extended, Fundamental Leg

Perquisites were called by various terms, such as γέρας, ‘a privilege of age
(or distinction)’, and τὰ ἱερώσυνα, which can be literally translated as ‘the
priestly things’.5 Yet the fundamental elements of sacrificial division which
were given to priests can readily be viewed as twofold, more or less
regardless of the animal sacrificed: the hide and a leg.6 Although animal
hides were honorifically and financially important, one ought to view the
leg, or a part thereof, as the fundamental meaty perquisite given to priests
and other individuals. It is most often designated by the word σκέλος or
κωλῆ. In a general sense, the word σκέλος normally seems to refer to the
hind leg of a sacrificial animal. Legs are also depicted on vases, usually with
the foot attached, as an honorary share which was given to a variety of
recipients who were not priests but worthy and deserving individuals.7
As a visual expression and in terms of butchery, the whole leg was a lengthy
item, and the feet and hooves of the sacrificial animal could be viewed as
a regular part of the concept of the σκέλος. Several inscriptions concerning
priestly perquisites, however, make clear that the feet and hooves of
animals were sometimes cut off at the shanks and treated separately.8
Because they were extremities easily removed from the whole leg, feet did
not perhaps form an absolutely essential component of the σκέλος as
a priestly perquisite.
Seemingly further distinguished from the leg was the κωλῆ, which most
properly designated the thigh or the ham, the meat around the femoral
bone which had been extracted as a divine portion.9 Yet, since the words
4
Cf. Durand (1979) and Svenbro (1987) for this idea of a topology of the sacrificial animal. But note
that, among others, Durand views the entrails as the fundamental meat to be shared (1979: 139–50):
‘le centre splanchnique’; cf. also Le Guen-Pollet (1991: 14–16).
5
Cf. Puttkammer (1912: 1 with n. 1) and, generally, Dignas (2002: 249–50, 262–3).
6
Puttkammer (1912: 7–10). Cf. e.g. the large corpus of priesthood sales on Cos (IG XII 4, 298 and ff.)
where these perks are practically sine qua non; see now Paul (2013b: 270) and, more widely, Paul
(2013a).
7
Tsoukala (2009) offers a valuable overview of such scenes on Athenian vases of the sixth and fifth
centuries bce, drawing some comparisons with the epigraphic evidence.
8
This is most apparent in lists of perquisites which include both legs and feet as separate and not
obviously conjoined items: e.g. LSAM 59 (Iasos, c. 400 bce), IG XII 4, 332 B (Cos, c. 350 bce), lines
58–9, and LSCG 55 (Athens, first century ad), lines 9–10. Feet were given as perquisites to cultic
officials and sacrificants other than the priest: e.g. LSAM 72 (Halicarnassus, c. 285–250 bce), line 44.
9
For both senses of the word, see LSJ s.v. κωλῆ, with Ekroth (2008a: 265 with n. 31). For thighbones,
usually called τὰ μηρία or ὁ μηρός in inscriptions, cf. Ekroth (2008a: 269): the femur was normally
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 153
σκέλος and κωλῆ seldom occur together in the same text, but clearly
designate an analogous priestly portion belonging to the leg of the animal,
the two words apparently had a degree of synonymity. Perhaps both could
generally refer to meat from the limb, without a truly systematic distinc-
tion being observable in the available epigraphical evidence. On Cos, for
example, the word σκέλος was exclusively used, irrespectively of the sacri-
ficial animal involved, while at Athens one predominantly finds the κωλῆ.
One possible type of distinction occurs in the sale of a priesthood from
the small village of Kasossos in Caria, which is rather unique in containing
a reference both to a κωλῆ from an ox and a σκέλος from a ram.10 Here, the
κωλῆ attributed to the priest is carefully weighed, and must not be inferior
to 10 mnai: using the Attic standard, about 4.3 kg (possibly more if
a different standard was used).11 Assuming that the κωλῆ was deboned,
which is likely but not completely certain, it would seem that this was
a very substantial portion of meat.12 However, it comes nowhere near
average weights for this general area – the round – in modern beef cuts.13
Of course, modern oxen have been bred to weigh considerably more than
smaller ancient cattle, as can be inferred from the osteological records
found in various sanctuaries and from estimates based on nomadic rather
than modern industrial cattle.14 Following these investigations, and since
the whole area of the hind legs or round represents about one-fifth of the
total carcass, or about 10 per cent per leg or side of round, the meat of each
leg would likely have weighed about 10–12.5 kg (i.e. one-quarter to one-
fifth of what it usually does today). This approximative estimate is sub-
stantially larger than the minimum value of the κωλῆ of beef at Kasossos.

extracted from a rear leg or ham, then wrapped in fat or in the omentum and burned on the altar; see
also Ekroth, Chapter 1 in the present volume, for bones as divine portions and for a comprehensive
discussion of the osteoarchaeological evidence.
10
LSAM 71, c. 200–50 bce, lines 5–9: ὅταν δὲ ποιῶσιν τυράλφιτον κ[αὶ] θ̣ύω|[σι]ν βοῦν, λήψεται τοῦ
βοὼς κωλεὸν ἕλ|[κο]ντα μὴ ἔλασσον μ{η}νῶν δέκα· λήψε|[τα]ι δὲ ἐν τῆι θυσίαι ταύτηι δέρμα καὶ |
[σ]κέλος ἀφ’ οὗ ἂν κριοῦ βούληται.
11
Cp. Ekroth (2008a: 271 with n. 64).
12
To put this amount in perspective, it would be at least ten times what an Athenian citizen might
typically receive from a κρεανομία (sacrificial meat-distribution) in the fourth century bce: cf.
Rosivach (1994: 158), estimating an ‘equally-divided’ portion weighing somewhat less than one mna.
13
Cf. e.g. http://beefresearch.org/CMDocs/BeefResearch/Beef%20Cutout%20Calculator.pdf (last
consulted 4.2017) for a chart with weights (in pounds) based on modern yields and percentages
from the carcass. Excluding trimmings, fat, and bone loss, as well as perhaps the shank, the round
usually weighs about 46 kg, or 23 kg per side / hind leg.
14
Cf. Rosivach (1994: 157–8) for an assessment of the available meat from ancient oxen at c. 100 to
120 kg. Note that these values are approximations, but they agree with the figures presented by Dahl
and Hjort concerning modern pastoral and nomadic bovine herds (1976: 161–81, esp. here 169–70)
for a total value of boneless meat at c. 90 to 110 kg).
154 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
The term κωλῆ might therefore have signified only a part of the thigh or
round (such as the topside or the outside), to which could be added other
surrounding cuts of meat in order to ensure that the total weight did not
fall below the minimum estimate. Yet this still represented a substantial
portion of the leg and its weight may in fact have corresponded to that of
the whole σκέλος of ram which was also granted to the priest.15 Though it is
impossible to find absolute values as points of comparison, especially when
dealing with different types of sacrificial animal, the example of Kasossos
suggests that σκέλος and κωλῆ were to some degree synonymous, but not
completely. Both appear to have referred to a similar portion of meat, of
roughly commensurate size or weight, and cut from the same area of
different animals. But σκέλος remained a more encompassing term for
the limb while, in the case of an ox at least, κωλῆ apparently referred to
a subset of the whole σκέλος: the thigh, or at least a part of it.
Further examples of qualified thigh portions are in fact readily forth-
coming. In two sales of priesthoods from Halicarnassus and its neighbour
Theangela, one finds that the priest or priestess was normally granted
a thigh and τὰ ἐπὶ κωλῆι νεμόμενα.16 The latter might signify ‘the portions
which are distributed in addition to / near the thigh’, or alternatively those
‘on / upon the thigh’, depending on how one interprets the preposition
ἐπί. In the first case, the expression might refer to how the ham was
butchered and imply that other parts were cut alongside it and distributed
with it; in the second, to additional portions (perhaps unrelated to the leg)
that were set upon the thigh as it was placed on the cult-table, or reserved
for the priest in some other fashion.17 While the second option is perhaps

15
Using Rosivach’s (n.14 above) value of c. 40 kg of meat from a sheep and similar percentages of the
carcass, the whole leg of a ram may have weighed c. 4 kg or more, corresponding well to the cut from
the thigh of the ox.
16
At Halicarnassus, LSAM 73, c. 250–200 bce, lines 9–14: λήψε|ται τῶν θυομ̣ένων δημοσίαι ἀφ’
ἑκάστου ἱερείου κω|λῆν καὶ τὰ ἐπὶ κω<λ>ῆι νεμόμενα καὶ τεταρτημορί|δα σπλάγχνων καὶ τὰ
δέρματα, τῶν δὲ ἰδιωτι|κῶν λήψεται κωλῆν καὶ τὰ ἐπὶ κωλῇ νεμόμενα | καὶ τεταρτημορίδα
σπλάγχνων. At Theangela, only from the largest of the sacrificial animals, SEG 29, 1088, c.
300–250 bce, lines 6–9: λήψεται δὲ κωλέ|αν καὶ τὰ ἐπὶ κωλέαι νεμόμεν|α τῶν θυομένων ἑνὸς τοῦ
μεγί̣ |στου κτλ.
17
For τραπεζώματα, or ‘portions set on the cult-table’, cf. Gill (1974: esp. 123–32). Shares of these
portions or those ‘set aside’ (τὰ παρατιθέμενα) on the table were often granted to priests, perhaps
usually consisting of the tongue and triple portions of meat, as well as other bloodless offerings, cf.
esp. LSCG 103 (Minoa, second century bce), lines 15–20, and LSAM 24 (Erythrai, 380–360 bce),
lines 13–25. Doubtless this is also what is implied by the portions ‘next to the altar’ in LSAM 37
(Priene, second century bce), lines 8–10: λήψεται δὲ ὧν̣ | πόλις θύει σκέλος, γλῶσσαν, δέρμα, παρὰ
βω|μ̣οῦ μοίρας. But for the leg specifically placed on the table, cf. e.g. LSAM 13 (Pergamon, second
century bce), lines 14–15: σκέλος δεξιὸν καὶ τὰ δέρματα καὶ τἆλλα̣ τραπεζώματα πάντα τὰ
παρατιθέμεν[α]; and LSCG 90 (Kallatis, second century bce), line 3: σκέλος ἐπὶ τράπεζαν.
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 155
the most straightforward explanation of the phrase and can rightly con-
tinue to be considered, the first interpretation is made possible by several
parallel examples.
Large, or what one might call ‘extended’, thighs are mentioned in other
epigraphic sources. For instance, a regulation of the orgeones of Bendis from
the Piraeus in Athens stipulates that if a private citizen performs a sacrifice,
the priest or the priestess of the association is to receive money, the hide,
and a κωλῆν διανε[κ]ῆ δεξιάν, except in the case where an ox is sacrificed,
since the bovine thigh was likely regarded as too substantial a portion to be
granted to one individual alone.18 In the other sacrifices, however, the thigh
was specified as coming not only from the right side of the animal, but also
as continuous or unbroken (διηνεκής). Literally, this would mean that the
thigh formed a continuous portion of meat, which may have been deboned
for the purpose of burning the femur separately, but which in doing so was
cut along the whole length of that bone. It formed a unified (though
butterflied) piece of flesh.19
In such cases, then, it would seem that the concern is to offer a thigh au
sens large. More or less analogous expressions are found, not just for the
thigh, but for the leg as a whole. Two inscriptions from Miletus prescribe,
among other priestly perquisites, ‘a leg which is cut up to (or: into) the
groin’ (σκέλος εἰς κοτυληδόνα τετμημένον).20 Intriguingly, it has been
argued recently that the phrase could also imply a cut ‘into’ the groin-
area, with a part of the mid-basin remaining attached to the femur.21
Nevertheless, the portion should correctly be taken to refer to a cut of
the leg performed at the joint, as was apparently normal in Greek butchery,

18
LSCG 45 (c. 350–300 bce), lines 4–7: [ἐ]ὰν δὲ ἰδιώτης τις θύηι τῆι θεῶι διδόναι . τῆι ἱερέαι |
γαλαθηνοῦ μὲν ∶ΙC∶ | [κ]αὶ τὸ δέρμα καὶ κωλῆν διανε[κ]ῆ δεξιάν, τοῦ δὲ τελέου ..ΙΙΙ∶ καὶ δέρμα
καὶ| [κ]ωλῆν κατὰ ταὐτά, βοὸς δὲ ∶ΙC∶ καὶ τὸ δέρμα· διδόναι δὲ τὰ ἱερεώσυνα τῶ|[ν μὲ]ν θηλ[ε]ιῶν
τῆι ἱερέαι, τῶν δὲ ἀρρένων τῶι ἱερεῖ.
19
Cf. esp. Hom. Il. 7.321–2: νώτοισιν δ’ Αἴαντα διηνεκέεσσι γέραιρεν | ἥρως Ἀτρεΐδης εὐρὺ κρείων
Ἀγαμέμνων; i.e. Agamemnon offers perquisites to Ajax consisting of ‘slices cut the whole length of
the chine’ (LSJ s.v. διηνεκής), or more idiomatically ‘with continuous pieces from the back (of the
animal)’. Another potentially parallel expression is found at SEG 52, 1064 (cf. now I. Stratonikeia
1417, c. 350–300 bce), lines 9–11, where an individual called Leros is granted a κωλέαν ἐξαίρετον,
a ‘choice’ or ‘as-extracted’ thigh.
20
Miletus: LSAM 48 (276/5 bce), lines 16–18: διδότω γέρη τῆι ἱερείαι σπλάγχνα, νεφ[ρόν,] | σκολιόν,
ἱερὰμ μοῖραν, γλῶσσαν, σκέλος εἰς κοτυληδόνα [ἐκ|τ]ετμημένον (the restoration [ἐκ|τ]ετμημένον,
accepted by Milet VI,3 1222, is to be deprecated); and LSAM 52B (ad 14–50), lines 4–7: καὶ
διδ<ό>τωσαν τῶι ἱερεῖ σπλάγχνα, | νεφρόν, σκολιόν, ἱερὰν μοῖραν, | γλῶσ<σ>αν, σκέλος | δεξιὸν
εἰς κοτυληδόνα τετμημένον καὶ | τὴν δορὰν καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ ἱερά. For the interpretation of εἰς as ‘up to’
the hip-joint rather than ‘into’ the hip, cf. Puttkammer (1912: 10): ‘pernam exsecandam esse
usque ad acetabulum, quod circa coxendix vertitur’.
21
Cf. Ekroth (2008a: 264), citing corroborative osteological evidence, but treating this as perhaps
a local form of butchery.
156 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
and specifically in this case a cut at the hip-socket in which the thighbone is
lodged. This was in fact a normal way of cutting a thigh or leg, up to the
hip, which also implied an ‘extended’ conception of this area of the
sacrificial animal.
A case from a city not far from Miletus can be adduced as indicating that
the whole leg was regularly envisioned as a continuous portion in relation
to other adjacent bones and cuts of meat. A set of inscribed rules concern-
ing the priest of Zeus Megistos at Iasos specifies that he is to receive one of
the legs of the animals sacrificed ‘with the ὀσφῦς’ (σὺ ν τῆ ι ὀ σφύϊ ).22
The ὀσφῦς strictly speaking refers to the sacrum bone, which is found at
the base of the spine, inserted in the pelvic cavity, and which also connects
to the first part of the tailbone of an animal.23 At Iasos, after either being
burned or having been set aside, the portion was granted to the priest,
presumably as an intact portion containing the bone, but also very likely
with a little hip-meat or even more substantial portions of the loins,
depending on the norms of butchering the animal.24 The ὀσφῦς was very
likely cut out separately from the hip, while the leg was presumably cut, as
at Miletus and elsewhere, in one continuous portion up to the hip-socket.
However, the language of the text from Iasos also suggests that the leg and
the ὀσφῦς formed a closely associated or unified pair, which had to be
deposited and distributed together as the most important meaty perquisites
granted to the priest.25

More Legs: The ‘Sacred Portion’ Revisited

The idea of a ‘divine’ or ‘sacred’ portion is sometimes found in lists of
priestly perquisites, and has long been a subject of interest to scholars of
Greek religion.26 A recent analysis of the material relating to the Greek
22
LSAM 59 (c. 500–400 bce), lines 1–3: λαμβανέτω δὲ τῶ ν θυομένων | σκέλος ἓν, ὁ ποῖον ἂν θέληι, σὺ ν
τῆ ι ὀ σφύϊ , ὡ ς ἐ κ[τέμν]εται ἡ ὀ σφ̣ύς, εἰ άν τε πολλὰ ἐ ξά|γηι ἱ ερέα εἰ άν τε ἓν, καὶ κεφαλὴ ν και ̀ πόδας
[και]̀ σπλ[άγχνων] τέταρτομ μέρος. Note that the reading in line 2, ὡ ς ἐ κ[τέμν]εται, has now been
deprecated according to a revision undertaken by R. Fabiani in an article in Kernos 29 (Fabiani
2016), which helps to elucidate the readings and lacunae in the earlier copy. The inscription now
appears to refer to the deposition and placement of the sacrum, presumably on the altar or cult-table.
This may relate closely to the phrase at Halicarnassus studied above and at n. 16. However, the idea
of distribution of portions also remains in play, since the reading σὺ ν τῆ ι ὀ σφύϊ is assured.
23
Cf. Ekroth (2009) for a more extended conception of the ὀσφῦς, including the tail.
24
For ὀσφῦς referring specifically to the loins or the lower part of the back, cf. e.g. Arist. Hist. an.
493a22; more generally, as an element of sacrificial division and of the divine portion, cf. the literary
sources cited in LSJ s.v. For the prized value attributed to the meat of the back, cf. Ekroth (2008a:
266), though to what extent this could be a modern point of view remains unclear.
25
A similar conclusion in Ekroth (2009), from the iconographic and osteological evidence.
26
See e.g. Stengel (1910: 169–71), on terms such as ἱερώσυνα and θεομοιρία.
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 157
expression ἱερὰ μοῖρα, ‘sacred portion’, has been proposed by Nora
Dimitrova. Her attractive argument is that the term had both a flexible
point of reference and a specific one. Ἱερὰ μοῖρα referred to a divine share in
a wide sense, while also more specifically designating a portion from the area
of the lower back or tail of the sacrificial animal.27 Dimitrova also investi-
gated lists of perquisites containing a ἱερὰ μοῖρα in order to suggest that the
placement of this portion is significant, usually coming after the intestines or
the kidney, and preceding the tongue or the ham.28 Taken together with the
fact that ἱερὰ μοῖρα is never found in the same text or list as the ὀσφῦς, these
observations led Dimitrova to argue that the terms ἱερὰ μοῖρα and ὀσφῦς
were essentially interchangeable or at least partially synonymous.
However, only one of the texts adduced by Dimitrova reflects an order
which could imply that the ἱερὰ μοῖρα was butchered or classified alongside
the leg or ham. This is the inscription from Thebes on Mount Mykale,
near Priene, where the priest of Zeus and Poseidon is attributed the
following list of perks: ‘the tongue, the (small?) intestine, a kidney,
a sacred portion, a thigh, and the fleeces of the sacrificial animals’.29 But
at nearby Miletus, where the epigraphical evidence is a bit more abundant
and the lists of perquisites are relatively consistent, one always finds the
sacred portion attributed after the crooked (i.e. small) intestine and before
the tongue.30 If there is an order represented here, it does not suggest that
ἱερὰ μοῖρα designated the ὀσφῦς or a part of the lower back. Furthermore,
the very fact that one finds the ὀσφῦς listed as a perquisite in other
contemporary Milesian documents might lead one to suppose the con-
trary, namely that ἱερὰ μοῖρα ought not to designate this part of the animal
but something else instead.31
The expression ἱερὰ μοῖρα surely remains rather unusual compared to
the more common term ὀσφῦς. The ὀσφῦς was an important component

27
Dimitrova (2008: 257). 28 Dimitrova (2008: 256).
29
LSAM 40 (c. 300 bce), lines 4–6: λα̣μβάνων γλῶσσαν, | σκολιόν, νεφρό[ν, ἱε]ρὴν μοῖραν, κωλῆν | καὶ
τὰ̣ κώιδια τῶν θυομένων. Cf. also perhaps the very fragmentary list in the sale of a priesthood from
Mylasa, LSAM 63 (first century bce), lines 4–5: [γέρη | δὲ λήψεται τῶ ]ν θυομένων [πάντων, ἀ φ’
ἑ κάστου ἱ ]ερείου, κωλειὸ ν [..ca. 5.. |..ca. 4.. ἱερὰν? μοῖ]ραν και ̀ ἐ ν τῆ ι [..ca.5..]. The restoration is
plausible but far from certain, and an association of the thigh with the ἱερὰ μοῖρα cannot be claimed
here given the extent of the lacunae.
30
There are three cases from Miletus: LSAM 44 (c. 400 bce, civic sacrifices), lines 6–7: [σ]κολιὸν καὶ
[ἱ]ερὴμ μoί[ρ|η]ν καὶ τὰς γλώσσας πά[σ]|α̣ς; LSAM 48 (276/5 bce), line 17: σκολιόν, ἱερὰμ μοῖραν,
γλῶσσαν; and LSAM 52 (ad 14–50), line B5: σκολιόν, ἱερὰν μοῖραν, γλῶσ<σ>αν.
31
Cf. LSAM 46 (c. 300 bce), lines 2–3 and 6, discussed immediately below; and LSAM 50 (Hellenistic
copy of a Classical inscription), lines 8–9 and 34–8; see now Herda (2006) with extensive discussion.
Yet it must be admitted that a definitive proof, viz. a text that would cite both the ὀσφῦς and the ἱερὰ
μοῖρα or θεομοιρία, has not been found.
158 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
of the normal sets of priestly prerogatives, whether attributed on its own or
closely tied to the ‘extended’ concept of the leg. This aspect of butchery in
fact appears to be emphasised in one of the texts from Miletus, which is
fragmentary but contains various lists of perquisites granted in the cult of
Apollo. In three cases, when one or more animals are sacrificed, one finds
an ὀσφὺν δασέαν assigned to the priest.32 The adjective δασύς, qualifying
the sacrum or the meat around it, has been variously interpreted, with
some arguing that it literally meant that the sacrum was cut out from the
back of the animal with the hide still attached – it was thus a ‘shaggy’
ὀσφῦς – while others cautiously aired the idea that the ὀσφῦς had ‘a lot of
meat attached to it’.33 The correct interpretation had already been sug-
gested by Puttkammer at the beginning of the last century, who cited
a lexicographical interpretation for the adjective δασύς as signifying ‘con-
tinuous’ or ‘conjoined’, much like the term διηνεκής.34 In other words, the
ὀσφῦς formed a solid segment of meat and bone, inclusive of other parts of
the hip, or the tail. It was thus envisioned as a necessary component of the
divine and priestly perquisites, as at Iasos above.35 In the sacrificial calendar
of Mykonos, to cite another example, both an ὀσφῦς and a thigh were
attributed as benefits after the sacrifice of two sows.36 The ὀσφῦς, likely in
its ‘extended’ conception, remained a central honorific share in sacrifices,
from the earliest epigraphical evidence to the Roman period.37
Beyond the sacrum and loins proper, one should also consider the extent
to which the hip or parts of the hip were specifically attributed as perqui-
sites. At Ialysos, for example, one finds the ὀσφῦς closely associated
with a portion called the ἀκρίσχιον in a list of sacrificial portions.38

32
LSAM 46 (c. 300 bce), lines 1–3: ἢν ἓν θ[ύη]ται, λά[ψε|ται γλῶσ]σαν, ὀσφὺν δασέαν, ὤρην· ἢν δὲ
πλέω θύηται λάψεται ἀπ’ ἐκάστου ὀσφὺ[ν | δασ]έ̣ αν καὶ γλῶσσαν καὶ κωλῆν μίαν ἀπὸ πάντων;
and lines 5–6: ἢν δὲ εὐστὸν θύηι ἡ πόλις λάψεται γλῶσ|σαν, ὀσφὺν δασέαν, ὤρην.
33
Cf. Sokolowski ap. LSAM 46, who opts for the latter: ‘le terme signifierait “une hanche avec
beaucoup de viande” ’, an interpretation that appears to be followed by Dimitrova (2008).
34
Puttkammer (1912: 11): ‘Accedit Hesych. δασύ· συνέχες, quae vox idem fere valet atque illud διανεκῆ
supra allatum’.
35
Cf. e.g. the distinction of ὀσφῦς from κωλη̂ in A. Pr. 497–8.
36
LSCG 96 (c. 200 bce), lines 11–15: τῆι αὐτῆι ἡμέραι Δήμητρι Χλόηι ὕες | δύο καλλιστεύουσαι· ἡ
ἑτέρα ἐγκύμ[ων]· νῶτογ κόπτετα[ι] | τῆς ἐγκύμονος· τὰς ὗς βο[υλ]ὴ κ[ρινέ]τ[ω]· μα̣[γ]ίρωι
ἄρχοντες | διδόντων ὀσφὺν καὶ κωλῆν τῆς ὑὸς τῆς ἑτέρης, ἀλφίτω[ν] | δύο χοίνικας, οἴνου τρεῖς
κοτύλ[α]ς. The ὀσφῦς and the thigh are thus attributed from the non-pregnant sow which is perhaps
sacrificed normally, while the other – pregnant – sow, has its back cut out, hypothetically to be
burned separately with its ὀσφῦς on the altar, while the rest of the animal carcass was perhaps treated
otherwise (in a ἁγίζειν-type of ritual). A revision of this calendar shows that the perquisites in
question were not attributed to a mageiros, but rather to a priestess.
37
For the later period, cp. the remarkable attribution of the ὀσφῦς as an honorific portion to the
founder of a cult site at Uruk, I. Estremo Oriente 140 (ad 110), lines 15–17.
38
LSS 93, and see further p. 165 below with n. 61.
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 159
The ἀκρίσχιον (‘tip(s) of the hip’) is properly understood as the flesh
around the hip-joints, also called the haunches, but it can also be envi-
sioned as the top of the thighs. In the sacrifice to Zeus Polieus from the
calendar of Cos, this portion is attributed separately to the incense-bearer,
but it explicitly comes from the leg which is given to the main sacrificial
agents, the hieropoioi.39 This sacrifice features an extensive and minutely
detailed sacrificial division, but one might reasonably assume that the
ἀκρίσχιον was elsewhere attributed with the leg. Such parts of the hip
thus also fall under the general rubric of the ‘extended’ leg which has been
outlined here.40 Much the same could be said of the expression πλευρὸν
ἰσχίο, ‘a side of hip’, which is found listed as a perquisite, usually
immediately after the thigh, in Athenian inscriptions.41 And yet another
related term, the πρότμησις, is found as a perquisite in two sales of
priesthoods, one from Sinope, and one from Chios: this perhaps involved
cuts made around the navel or the loins of the animal, very close to the
pelvic bone.42
Therefore, though it is clear that the ὀσφῦς and the hip were parts
closely, sometimes inextricably, associated with the fundamental divine
and priestly share of the leg or thigh, it is also evident that the expression
ἱερὰ μοῖρα can only tentatively be associated with this area of the sacrificial
animal. On the other hand, an obviously related expression, θεομοιρία or
θευμορία, literally the ‘divine portion’, leads us in a different direction,
namely from the rear of the sacrificial animal to its front.43 One can
propose a revised interpretation of the relevant passages where this word
occurs, in two inscriptions from Cos. In both cases, a specific shoulder
(ὦμος) is attributed, the one ‘from which the θεομοιρία is cut out’.44 This

39
IG XII 4, 278 (c. 350 bce), line 52: θυαφόρωι δὲ τοῦ σκέλεος τοῦ τῶν ἱεροποιῶν δίδοται ἀκρίσχιον.
Cp. also IG XII 4, 332, lines 32–3.
40
Cf. LSJ s.v., noting also the expression κεφαλὴ τοῦ μηρου̂ at e.g. Hp. Art. 53 and 58.
41
Cf. most clearly the repeated lists in the account from Aixone, SEG 54, 214 (c. 400–375 bce): κωλῆν,
πλευρὸν ἰσχίο; and see below pp. 167–8 for further discussion.
42
Sinope: LSAM 1 (third century bce), lines 5–8, with the restorations of Puttkammer (1912: 9–10), καὶ
λήψ[εται τῶν ἱερείων τῶν] | δημοσίαι θυομένων δέ[ρματα πάντα? . . . ca.7 . . .], | πρότμησιγ,
γλῶσσαν· τῶν δὲ [ἰδιωτικῶν λήψεται] | πρότμησιν ἢ ὠμοπλάτην· καὶ στε̣ [φανηφορήσει . . .]. It is
tempting also to restore a leg or thigh in the lacuna preceding the first πρότμησις. Chios (fifth
century bce): Parker (2006, lines 10–11), [ὁ ἰδιώ]της τῆι ἱρῆι διδ[ότ]ω σκέλ[ος δε|ξιὸν(?) – – – πρό]
τμησιγ, <γ>νάθον εὐ[ώ]νυμο[ν – – –]; Parker (2006: 76) discusses the meaning of the term,
distinguishing it from the ὀσφῦς (but see LSJ s.v. πρότμησις).
43
Cf. now Ekroth (2013) on forelegs, paying more attention both to the osteological and the
iconographic evidence than is possible here.
44
The first case occurs in the sacrifice to Zeus Machaneus in the Coan calendar, IG XII 4, 274 (c. 350
bce), lines 18–21: γέρη δὲ Φυλεομ|αχίδαις δίδοται τοῦ βοὸς ὁπλά, τ̣α̣ρ̣σός, τῶν δὲ ὀίων τὸ ὠμ̣όν̣ | ἐξ
οὗ ἁ θεομοιρία τάμνεται καὶ τ[. . . 5..]ος· γέρη λαμβάνει ὁ ἱα|ρ̣εὺς σκέλη καὶ δέρματα. The editors of
160 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
‘divine portion’ must therefore have been a bone or a cut of meat con-
nected to the shoulder of the animal, which was presumably offered on the
altar. A related perquisite was given to the priest or honorand afterwards,
apparently the whole of the remaining shoulder. Some of the foreleg of the
animal, which would have been connected to this shoulder, may also have
been granted as part of this priestly perquisite, since the term ὦμος can also
designate the upper arm or the foreleg above the knee.
Such an interpretation of the texts from Cos, involving a portion cut
from the shoulder of the animal, is particularly attractive since there are
several Greek terms for designating analogous or related portions from the
shoulders.45 One of these, μασχαλίσματα, appears to refer specifically to
‘portions of meat cut off from the armpits’, which seem to have formed
a part of the divine portion set on the altar in a cult regulation from the
Attic deme of Phrearrhioi, along with μηρούς (thighbones), as well as half
the head of the animal.46 A term which is somewhat akin, ὑπώμαια, may

IG XII 4, following Sokolowski LSCG 151B, interpret ὠμόν as a ‘piece of raw meat’, commenting:
‘vix ὦμον, quam formam alteram vocis ὦμος subposuit Herzog HGK 2’. However, that interpreta-
tion is extremely unlikely given the abundance of evidence for shoulders and forelegs presented by
Ekroth (2013) and also here. Furthermore, a substantive τὸ ὠμόν, ‘the piece of raw meat’ is
epigraphically unattested and hardly expected as a perquisite. Given the poor state of preservation
of the stone, an original reading of τὸ[ν] ὦμον is perfectly possible; if not, one must read: τὸ<ν>
ὦμον. In line 20, restore perhaps τ[αρσ]ός – on the analogy of the previous line: τοῦ βοὸς ὁπλά,
τ̣α̣ρ̣σός – thus granting both the shoulder and foreleg, as well as the lower shank or ankle.
The second case is provided by IG XII 4, 339 (200–150 bce), lines 19–23: τ[ᾶς δὲ] | δαμάλιος ἇς
κα θύσω[ντι διδό]|μεν γέρη τᾶι ἱερῆι τὸ [σκέλος] | ἐξ οὗ ἁ θευμορί[α διανειμάσθω,] | ταῖς γεραιραῖ
[ς – — —]. Pace IG, one should surely restore this passage on the analogy of the first case in the
calendar: . . . γέρη τᾶι ἱερῆι τὸ[ν ὦμον] | ἐξ οὗ ἁ θευμορί[α τάμνεται καὶ] | ταῖς γεραιραῖ[ς – — —];
another perk of c. 6–7 letters will have followed, perhaps again the shanks or feet: [ταρσός] or
similar. For steps in this direction, but more cautiously, cf. Paul (2013a: 346–51) and (2013b: 270–2).
45
There are also literary sources for shoulders as customary perquisites, cf. e.g. Trag. Adesp. 458 which
relates how Oedipus’ sons would customarily give their father a superior ὦμος from sacrifices of
lambs: θυσίας [γὰρ] ἀπαρχὴν γέρας ἐπέμπομεν πατρί | περισσὸν ἀρνῶν ὦμον, ἔκκριτον κρέας.
On this subject, see Cingano (2004).
46
NGSL 3 (c. 300–250 bce), lines 15–21: ἐπὶ δὲ τοὺς βωμοὺ[ς – — —]|Ι μηροὺς μασχαλίσματα
ἡμίκ<ρ>α[ιρα – — – μ]|ηροὺς μασχαλίσματα ἡμίκραιρ[α – — —] | ἐπὶ τοῦ βωμοῦ ἐν τῶι
Ἐλευσινίω[ι – — – τῶι τ]|οῦ Πλούτωνος βωμῶι ἱερεώσυν[α – — – τοῖν θε]|οῖν τῶν βω<μ>ῶν
τῆι ἱερείαι κα[— – — πλε]|υρὸν ἰσχίον. In the final lacuna, doubtless another thigh [κωλῆν] is to be
restored before the phrase [πλε]υρὸν ἰσχίον, though one cannot also restore a half-head (ἡμίκραιρα)
in this case. On μασχαλίσματα, cf. the comm. NGSL, 166–8, with Hsch. and Suda s.v. A more
extensive discussion can be found in Lupu (2003), who considers the purported confusion with the
Greek ritual called ὠμοθετεῖν, where raw pieces of meat from the shoulders were placed on the
thighs to be burned on the altar (a ‘confusion’ between ‘raw’ and ‘shoulder’ possibly also reflected in
the uncertain reading on Cos, above n. 44). But Lupu rightly argues that the name of the ritual was
derived from the association of the shoulders with pieces of meat from the armpits, since these were
culinarily related cuts, and he concludes that the μασχαλίσματα might then constitute a ‘first-fruit
offering’ to be burned on the altar.
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 161
literally have signified ‘pieces from under the shoulders’.47 Yet since these
were granted to the herald in the sacrifice for Zeus Polieus on Cos along
with two pieces from the back, one can reasonably conclude that ὑπώμαια
are not directly equivalent to the θεομοιρία. Instead, such cuts may have
constituted a valuable, honorary perquisite by their association with the
area of the shoulder (ὦμος) from which the θεομοιρία was cut (as well as in
their own right of course).
In any case, one could perhaps also envision the Milesian ἱερὰ μοῖρα,
usually separated from the legs in lists of perquisites, as referring to
a portion from the front of the animal, rather than as a less plausible
synonym for ὀσφῦς. Such a ‘sacred portion’ could well have been a cut
from the shoulders, much like the θεομοιρία on Cos, the μασχαλίσματα
placed on the altar, or even the shoulder-blade itself. This interpretation
does not exclude the possibility that ἱερὰ μοῖρα could sometimes be a more
generic term for the divine portion as a whole or even for the ὀσφῦς in some
cases. But in epigraphical lists of perquisites it was most likely a technical
term for a specific cut of meat or bone: though the exact referent is elusive,
the topological sense is nevertheless fairly clear.
The front of the animal was indeed an equally important sacrificial
locus, a reflection of the topology of the ham, hip and ὀσφῦς. In the
preceding discussion, both σκέλος and κωλῆ have been taken, as is usual
in current scholarship, to refer to the hind legs of the animals sacrificed.
Recently, Gunnel Ekroth has persuasively analysed how the hind legs of
the animals would contain much more meat than the forelegs, and thus
often be privileged.48 But both constituted suitable offerings for the god
and the priest. A degree of uncertainty therefore remains: while κωλῆ
should always properly refer to a ham from a hind leg, can σκέλος mean
a foreleg in some instances? One case where σκέλος might explicitly refer to
a foreleg is a fragment concerning a hereditary cultic foundation estab-
lished in or near the sanctuary of Zeus at Labraunda in Caria, where the
proposed restorations suggest that the γέρας here consisted in ‘a leg with
the shoulder-blade (scil. attached)’.49 In other inscriptions, such an

47
Cos: IG XII 4, 278 (c. 350 bce), lines 52–3: [κάρυ|ξι ν]ώ̣ τ̣ου δίκρεας, ὑπώμαια, αἱματίου ὀβελὸς
τρικώλιος. The adjective ὑπώμαιος could be used to qualify forelegs or forefeet, but if we have the
neuter plural as a substantive here, then a more generic meaning of ‘under-shoulder-cuts’ is
probable; cp. LSJ s.v. (ἡ) ὑπωμία, ‘the part under the shoulder’.
48
Ekroth (2013).
49
I. Labraunda 57 (second century ad), lines B15–16: [........ca. 21......... γέ]ρ̣ας σκέλ[ο]ς μετ[ὰ ὠμο|πλ]
ά̣ τη[ς ....]. One could perhaps restore in the first lacuna something like: [λήψεται δὲ ὁ ἱερεὺς (ὡς?)]
vel sim. The restoration μετ[ὰ ὠμο|πλ]ά̣ τη[ς], though rather uncertain, is made plausible by the fact
162 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
interpretation is more tentative, as in the case of the cult of Men Tyrannos
in Attica, where the god receives a right-hand σκέλος, while the sacrificant
may take away a leg and a shoulder (ὦμον), perhaps implying a foreleg cut
with the shoulder attached to it.50
Furthermore, a variety of other terms relating to shoulders and forelegs
are found attributed as perquisites, which reinforce the impression that one
is dealing with two different but not incompatible conceptions of the
‘extended’ leg as a perquisite. At Mykonos, for example, in the sacrifice
to Poseidon Temenites, one observes an elaborate ritual. The back and
shoulder-blade (πλάτη) of a sacrificed ram are to be cut off. This shoulder-
blade is to be literally ‘libated’ – most likely poured over with a libation and
consecrated, thus perhaps constituting the θεομοιρία in this case – while
the tongue and the forelimb (βραχίων) are to be given to the priest.51
The term βραχίων may then designate the specific foreleg or shoulder from
which the shoulder-blade was removed and consecrated.
The shoulder likewise constitutes the main perquisite given to the priest
in the cult of Amphiaraos at Oropus.52 Even more strikingly, a recently
published inscription from Patara in Lycia concerns the cult of Zeus of
Labraunda and prescribes, if the interpretation is correct, that those
sacrificing are to give to the priest ‘a portion equal to the shoulder-blade’
(πλάτα<ι> ἴσον).53 It is not clear if this portion was meant to be equal in
size or weight to the shoulder-blade or simply equal in value, but it is surely
significant that this priestly perquisite is called an ἀπαρχή (a ‘first-fruit
offering’), a term that was paralleled or equated with θευμορία, the ‘divine

that one finds [γέ]ρ̣ας in the singular here, and so one expects a single portion to have been given.
Cf. also n. 53 (below) for the importance of the shoulder-blade in a cult of Zeus Labraundos.
50
LSCG 55 (first century ad), lines 9–10: παρέχειν δὲ καὶ τῶι θεῶι τὸ καθῆκον, δεξιὸν | σκέλος καὶ
δορὰν καὶ κεφαλὴν καὶ πόδας καὶ στηθύνιον; and lines 17–18: (ὁ . . . θυσιάζων) λαμβανέτωι δὲ τῆς
θυσίας ἧς | ἂν φέρῃ σκέλος καὶ ὦμον, τὰ δὲ λοιπὰ κατακοπτέτ̣ω <ἐν τῶι> ἱερῶι.
51
LSCG 96 (c. 200 bce), lines 7–8: νῶτογ καὶ πλάτη κόπτεται· ἡ πλάτη σπένδε|ται· τῶι ἱερεῖ γλῶσσα
καὶ βραχίων. For the libation involving the shoulder-blade at Mykonos, Ekroth attractively suggests
(per litt.) that it would be easily cut free from meat and sinews in the back, and could thereafter be
used, not exactly as a shallow libation vessel like a phiale, but either to create a heavy splash, or to
drizzle on it more slowly, causing ‘the liquid [to] pour along the fan-shape of the bone [which] could
be directed in a specific direction if so desired’. An alternative would be to read the verb σπένδειν
with an eye towards an etymological meaning, as ‘to consecrate’ or ‘to sacrifice’: see Mouton,
Chapter 12 in this volume. For the foreleg, cp. also lines 30–2 of the same text, for Apollo
Hekatombaios: νῶτον | τοῦ ταύρου κόπτεται· τῶι ἱερεῖ τοῦ ταύρου δίδοται γλῶσ|σα καὶ βραχίων.
52
LSCG 59 (386–374 bce if we follow Rhodes and Osborne: no. 27, pp. 130–2), lines 32–6: τοῖ δὲ | ἱερεῖ
διδοῦν τὸς θύοντας ἀπὸ τοῦ ἱερήου ἑκ|άστο τὸν ὦμον πλὴν ὅταν ἡ ἑορτὴ εἶ, τότε δὲ ἀπ|ὸ τῶν
δημορίων λαμβανέτω ὦμον ἀφ’ ἑκάστου v | v τοῦ ἱερήου.
53
SEG 57, 1674 (third century bce): τοὺς θύοντας | Διὶ Λαβραύνδωι | ἢ τῶν ἐντεμενίων θεῶν τινι |
διδόναι τῶι ἱερεῖ ἀπαρχὴν | ἀφ̓ ἑκάστου ἱερέου πλάτα<ι> ἴσον, following the convincing inter-
pretation of this last phrase by A. Chaniotis, EBGR (2007 (Kernos 23 [2010]) 293 no. 45.
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 163
portion’ by the lexicographer Hesychius.54 In several sacrifices then, the
shoulder and the shoulder-blade from the foreleg formed the fundamental
portion, an interrelated divine and priestly prerogative.
In addition, one sometimes finds an alternative between fore- and hind
legs and their respective portions, notably in a pair of inscriptions from
Asia Minor. The sale of priesthood of Poseidon Helikonios from Sinope
presents the priest with a choice of perquisites where sacrifices performed
by private individuals are concerned: either a πρότμησις (portion around
the hips) or a shoulder-blade (ὠμοπλάτη).55 It is worth recalling that
Sinope was a Milesian colony, and in a text already cited from Miletus
one perhaps finds a similar dichotomy. If many animals are sacrificed or
rituals are performed for other gods in the temenos of Apollo, the priest is to
receive a single thigh, in exchange for his habitual ὤρη from the animals,
unless another official, the basileus, takes that thigh as his prerogative.56
The interpretation of the word ὤρη remains somewhat uncertain: it could
refer to the tail, a portion connected to the ὀσφῦς, alongside which it occurs
here (at Miletus). But the tail is usually called οὐρά or οὐρή, and another
etymological derivation for ὤρη is possible which would instead make it
signify a foreleg or a part thereof.57 The latter explanation would thus yield
another counterbalancing between fore- and hind legs, between ὤρη and
κωλῆ.
A final inscription which juxtaposes fore- and hind legs, and on which
Robert Parker has recently provided an invaluable commentary, probably
comes from Tlos in Lycia.58 The fascinating text relates to the foundation

54
Hsch. s.v. θευμορία. The term ἀπαρχή and the vague phrase with ἴσον likely emphasise
a connection with the supra-human sphere, by formulating the γέρας of the priest as a ‘divine
offering equivalent to the shoulder-blade’; contrast Jim (2011) who finds the phrase ‘obscure’.
55
As opposed to those performed for the city, cf. LSAM 1 (third century bce), lines 7–8: τῶν δὲ
[ἰδιωτικῶν λήψεται] | πρότμησιν ἢ ὠμοπλάτην.
56
LSAM 46 (c. 300 bce), lines 1–6: ἢν ἓν θ[ύη]ται, λά[ψε|ται γλῶσ]σαν, ὀσφὺν δασέαν, ὤρην· ἢν δὲ
πλέω θύηται λάψεται ἀπ’ ἐκάστου ὀσφὺ[ν | δασ]έ̣ αν καὶ γλῶσσαν καὶ κωλῆν μίαν ἀπὸ πάντων· καὶ
τῶν ἄλλων θεῶν τῶν | [ἐν]τεμενίων ὅσων ἱερᾶται ὁ ἱέρεως, λάψεται τὰ γέρεα τὰ αὐτὰ καὶ κωλῆν
ἀντὶ | [τῆ]ς ὤρης ἢμ μὴ βασιλεὺς λαμβάνηι· ἢν δὲ εὐστὸν θύηι ἡ πόλις λάψεται γλῶσ|σαν, ὀσφὺν
δασέαν, ὤρην.
57
Cf. schol. ad Hom. Od. 12.89, which comments: ἀώρους Ἀρίσταρχος ἀκώλους, τοὺς γάρ ῎Ιωνας
λέγειν φασὶ τὴν κῶλην ὥρην καὶ ὥραιαν. LSJ s.v. ὥρα (Β) cites this, while rightly noting that the
Milesian inscription clearly distinguishes the thigh from the ὤρη or ὥρη. However, the confusion
between the ham and tail would have been rather surprising even for the scholiast: the apparent
equation between the thigh and the ὥρην must be treated as significant if not completely true. In my
opinion, the solution can still be gleaned from LSJ, who also adduce ἄωροι πόδες, meaning ‘first-
feet’ or ‘forefeet’. The word ὤρη or ὥρη could thus be viewed as an Ionic lexeme referring to the
forelegs, comparable e.g. to βραχίων on Mykonos; note also the parallel dialectic between ὑπώμαιοι
πόδες (Arat. 144) and the substantive ὑπώμαια on Cos.
58
Parker (2010a), second century bce.
164 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
of a cult honoring Symmasis and his wife Mamma by a society of metal-
workers, who organised sacrifices to the god Helios during which these
individuals were granted sacrificial perquisites. The perquisites attributed
to them are remarkable, since they involve the society ‘serving Symmasis
with a further portion, from the rear leg (?), and for his wife Mamma
a further portion from the front leg (?), for as long as Symmasis lives, in
addition to the regular portion’.59 Though the expressions are distinctive or
unique, Parker is surely correct to interpret the phrases ἄλλην μερίδα
ἐπίκωλον ὀπισθίαν / ἐμπροσθίαν as referring to the front and hind areas
of the animal respectively, rather than qualifying the front and back of a leg
itself.60 In other words, this inscription, though idiosyncratic, provides
a neat summary of the dialectic between the fore- and the hind quarters of
the animal which has been noted as a prominent feature of Greek sacrifice,
as well supplying a further confirmation of the consistently perceived need
to offer an enlarged or additive part of the leg as a fundamental perquisite.
This extended conception of the leg doubtless had some basis in the simple
requirement to provide the priest with a valuable and substantial portion of
meat, but through its connection with the divine share that was offered on
the altar – be it the thighbone, the ὀσφῦς, the shoulder-blade, pieces from
the shoulder, the θεομοιρία or the ἱερὰ μοῖρα, or several of the above – it
also very closely associated the honorand with the gods.

Epichoric Lists and Topological Groupings

The topology of the extended area around the leg, whether at the front or
the rear of the sacrificial animal, thus formed the core of the divine portion
and the meaty perk. Yet in several inscriptions defining ritual norms, one
finds lists of perquisites usually granted to priests that exceed the essential
requirement of a leg, thigh, or shoulder. The following is an attempt to
analyse some of these lists in order to identify whether or not they reveal
a particular structure or order, as well as any local characteristics.

59
Parker (2010a: 104–6 for the text, 106–8 for the translation); here lines A5–11: παραθήσουσιν δὲ
Συμμασει | καὶ ἄλλην ἐπίκωλον μερίδα | ὀπισθίαν καὶ τῆς γυναικὸς αὐ|τ[ο]ῦ Μαμμας ἄλλην μερίδα
ἐπ[ί]|κωλον ἐμπροσθίαν ὅσον ἂν χρό|νον [ζ]ῇ Συμμασις πρὸ<ς> τῇ γεινο|μενῇ μερίδι. I suggest that
one should perhaps read ἐπὶ κῶλον μερίδα κτλ., i.e. an admittedly abrupt parenthetical expression
ἐπὶ (τὸ) κῶλον, rather than a new compound word ἐπίκωλον meaning ‘from the thigh’. This would
entail much the same meaning, namely portions situated or placed ‘on the limb’, perhaps much like
τὰ ἐπὶ κωλῆι νεμόμενα at Halicarnassus (n.16 above), but it would remove the apparent problem of
a word based on κωλῆ which refers to a foreleg Parker (2010a: 106 with n. 8).
60
Parker (2010a: 106 with n. 8, and p. 116) for further exploration of the ritual details.
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 165
One of the most fascinating series of cuts of meat was found inscribed on
a large block of stone at Ialysos.61 Though the inscription is only partly
preserved and the precise character of the text remains somewhat uncertain,
it appears to contain a list of sacrificial perquisites which would normally be
granted to priests, but which could equally well have been prescribed as
a divine portion.62 The list contains seven elements, separated into at least
two distinct groups. The first four are all connected by ‘and’ (καί), and
concern cuts from this fundamental core of the sacrificial animal: three cuts
of meat from the right shoulder, followed by three ribs or a triple portion of
the chest (τρίπλευρον), the sacrum bone and/or meat around it (the ὀσφῦς),
and a cut from the top of the hip or thighs (ἀκρίσχιον). The three cuts of
meat from the right shoulder must belong to a front leg, which was
connected at the scapula. The resemblance between this triple portion at
Ialysos and ‘the shoulder from which the divine portion was cut’ on Cos, or
the ‘armpit bits’ (μασχαλίσματα) at Athens, is also striking.
The word τρίπλευρον is rare and somewhat enigmatic. With its three-
fold aspect, it naturally belongs with the triple cut of meat from the
shoulder found here, but it can hardly refer to a ‘three-sided’ cut of
meat. In its etymological connection to πλευρόν, it would appropriately
seem to refer to a portion from the rib-cage of the animal: probably
a ‘triple-rib’ or ‘tri-rib’. The word is only found in a few other inscriptions,
once in a plural form which makes the identification of the cut of meat
equally difficult. This is a decree from Pergamon, inscribed on a stele
among other regulations at the initiative of a hieronomos, which begins:
‘Since it was the earlier custom for those sacrificing to Athena Nikephoros
to give, along with the usual perquisites to the goddess, more τρίπλευρα to
other (officials) who take care of the sanctuary’.63 As becomes clear, the

61
LSS 93 (Ialysos, second century bce): ΚΑΙΕΣΤΙ ὤμου δεξιοῦ κρῆ τρία καὶ τρίπλευρον καὶ ὀσφῦς | καὶ
ἀκρίσχιον, κεφαλᾶς ἥμυσυ, γλῶσσαν, ἐγκέφαλον. The stone is a large block, perhaps belonging to
an altar, which was reused as a statue base; it remains difficult to know whether the text began on an
adjacent block or was simply an excerpt from a larger document.
62
Both G. Pugliese-Carratelli, in the original edition ‘Nuovo supplemento epigrafico rodio’, ASAA
33–4 (1955–6) 164 no. 14, and Sokolowski (LSS 93) interpret the text as referring to priestly
perquisites. Yet the absence of the leg, except for the meat from the shoulder, is striking, unless it
was described in an earlier part of the text. The first expression, ΚΑΙΕΣΤΙ, remains problematic and
has been variously interpreted, though perhaps the more straightforward reading, καὶ ἔστι or καὶ
ἔστι<ν>, is the best. It would thus simply introduce the list of portions that follows: ‘And there are
(scil. the following must be placed on the altar or cult-table) three cuts of meat from the right
shoulder, . . . (etc)’.
63
LSAM 12 (cf. IvP II 255, c. 133 bce), lines 19–22: [ἐπει]|δὴ πρότερον ἦν εἰθισμένον τοὺς θύοντας τῆι
Νικηφόρω̣[ι Ἀ]|θηνᾶι μετὰ τῶν διατεταγμένων τῆι θεᾶι γερῶν διδ[όναι] | κα[ὶ] ἄλλοις τισὶν τῶν
περὶ τὸ ἱερὸν διατριβόντων πλεί̣ ο|να τρίπλευρα, δεδόχ<θ>αι. Cf. also the possible mention of
a τρί[πλευρον] in an enigmatic list at LSS 70 (Thasos, c. 400 bce), line 3.
166 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
decree goes on to specify amounts of money from the sale of hides which
must now be paid as perks to the temple-warden (neokoros), as well as to the
female flute-player and the woman who raises a ritual cry (ololuktria).
It could be presumed, then, that these τρίπλευρα had formerly been the
normal perquisites for cultic personnel beyond the priest, and meaty rather
than financial. Another relevant inscription is a quite fragmentary text
from Chios which appears to contain two lists, one defining priestly perqui-
sites properly speaking, and perhaps another list containing more unusual
portions. In this latter part, one finds the mention of ‘three ribs’, followed by
the letter omega and a lacuna, which in a list of perquisites can probably only
signify the beginning of a word like ὦ[μος] (shoulder) or ὠ[μοπλάτη].64
The text from Chios thus apparently shows yet another example of the close
conceptualisation of the three segments of the ribs with the area of the
shoulder. One might go as far as speculating that this ‘tri-rib’ portion
referred to the first three ribs of the chest, in other words those most closely
associated with the portions cut out from the shoulder (in the case of Ialysos,
perhaps those on the anterior and right side of the chest).65
The ἀκρίσχιον, which, as was seen above, refers to the topmost part of
the legs which was connected to the hip, or to an adjacent part of the hip
itself, appropriately belongs in a subgroup with the sacrum, the ὀσφῦς.
These portions refer, much in the same way as the shoulder and the rib
which belong adjacent to the forelegs, to parts which could be ‘cut with’ or
‘upon’ the hind legs. Though both the τρίπλευρον and the ἀκρίσχιον were
apparently usually granted to subsidiary officials, they are nonetheless cuts
closely associated with sacred or priestly portions, and they suitably follow
the pieces cut from the shoulder and the ὀσφῦς at Ialysos.

64
NIK 7, lines 7–8: [․․․․9․․․․], τρεῖς πλεόρας, ὠ|[μοπλάτην]; so Sokolowski (LSCG 120), but Graf
restored simply ὦ|[μον . . .]; cf. also, below n. 88 for the earlier part of this inscription. A newly
published sale of priesthood inscription from Iasos, Maddoli (2015: 101–18), makes the notion of
triple-rib portion perhaps even clearer than the inscriptions from Ialysos and Chios, since it refers to
‘sides of meat on three right (rib-)bones’ (πλευρὰς [not πλευρᾶς, so ed. pr] ἐ πὶ τρία ὀ στᾶ δεξιά, line
15) as a priestly portion. The matter now warrants further discussion.
65
Cp. perhaps the osteological evidence concerning cattle at the sanctuary of Poseidon and Amphitrite
on Tenos cited by Ekroth (2008a: 266), where a tri-section of the spine and a midsection of the ribs
was performed, which would perhaps have helped to yield portions not unlike the τρίπλευρα. But
for more substantial portions of the rib (χέλυς) granted to a priest, cf. IG XII 4, 278 (Cos, c. 350 bce),
lines 50–1: γέρη τοῦ βοὸς τῶι ἱερῆι δέρμα κ[αὶ σ|κέ]λ̣ο̣ς̣ . . . καὶ χέλυος ἥμισυ καὶ κοιλίας ἥμ[ι|συ].
In this text also, note that the portion from the head is not attributed to the priest, but apparently
divided among other participants in the rites, namely the bronze-smiths and the potters, lines 54–5:
χαλκέων καὶ κερα̣[μέ|ω]ν ἑκατέροις τὸ κεφάλαιο[ν]; κεφάλαιο[ν] here cannot have its usual sense of
a ‘sum’ or summary; it must refer to a ‘part of the head’ (cf. LSJ s.v. II). This should thus be viewed as
a further example of the division of the head into two separate halves (ἑκατέροις, one half for each of
the two groups respectively), such as one finds at Ialysos, as well at Athens and on Chios.
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 167
Differently from this core group, the second set of cuts at Ialysos pertains
to the head of the animal and is also defined by the absence of connectives
(such as καί). This part of the list begins with half of the head, followed by
the tongue and the brain, which were perhaps contained in this divided
skull. Which half of the head was given to the god or priest is not specified,
but it is possible that one is to presume that the right half was still being
considered, as in the case of the shoulder and perhaps some of the other
parts that followed. The tongue (γλῶσσα) will be discussed further below,
but the specification of the brain (ἐγκέφαλον) is fairly unique in cultic
norms. It was a valuable piece of meat and perhaps usually included with
the head as a portion, but from a set of agoranomic inscriptions from
Athens it is apparent that it could sometimes be removed in order to be
sold separately from the heads of animals.66
The text from Ialysos can accordingly be interpreted as representing
a more extensive topology of divine or honorific portions within the body
of the sacrificial animal. On the one hand, there are three portions
belonging to the right front shoulder and chest respectively, as well as
more central portions belonging to the rear of the animal: the sacrum bone
and the hip area. On the other, one finds a set of three portions belonging
to the head. Overall, the three areas – the ‘dextro-anterior’, the sciatic, and
the cephalic – appear to form the focal elements of the sacrificial division in
this particular case. Regrettably, one cannot hope to learn much more from
the two extant lines of the inscription, and there are no other examples
from Rhodes of this form of butchery, but elsewhere it is possible to find
norms of classification of perquisites which are similarly organised.
*
One major body of epigraphic evidence of course comes from Athens, and
it is here that one can perhaps observe the greatest consistency in lists of
sacrificial perquisites, which are usually presented in a sequence without
connectives. The most detailed inscription is the intriguing account of
priestly perquisites from Aixone, which repeatedly notes the distribution of
the same cuts of meat in many of the sacrifices. These are attributed to the
priests but are also expressly placed on the cult-table as divine offerings.67
The portions in question are the thigh (κωλῆ), a side of the hip (πλευρὸν
ἰσχίο), and probably a half-head of the animal (ἡμίκραιραν χορδῆς).
The side of the hip should be visualised as a portion much like the

66
SEG 47, 196 A–B (Piraeus, first century bce).
67
SEG 54, 214 (c. 400–375 bce), passim: ἐπὶ δὲ τὴν τράπεζαν κωλῆν, πλευρὸν ἰσχίο, ἡμίκραιραν
χορδῆς. See the commentary of Ackermann (2007) and Parker (2010b) on this text.
168 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
ἀκρίσχιον, a piece of the haunch or hip which may still have been attached
to the thigh and which formed a part of this ‘extended’ conception of the
leg as a priestly perquisite. The half-head recalls the portion seen at Ialysos,
but here instead of containing the tongue and the brain, it appears to have
been stuffed with intestines or sausage made from these (χορδή).68
In a very fragmentary inscription listing priestly prerogatives which
perhaps had a comparable layout to the account from Aixone, one finds
various legs and portions of beef (σάρκας) offered as priestly prerogatives,
as well as amounts of money. In one final case considered by the inscrip-
tion, perhaps during the offering of a young animal with its first teeth
(γαλαθηνός), the following series of perks is determined: a leg (σκέλος),
a rib or side (πλευρόν), and a half-head (ἡμίκραιραν).69 Does the πλευρόν
refer to the rib-cage or a portion from this, or, implicitly, to a ‘side’ of the
hip as at Aixone? In the former option, one might then be dealing with
a foreleg, connected to the rib or side; in the latter, to a portion not unlike
the ‘extended’ κωλῆ.
In a fragmentary regulation from the Attic deme of Phrearrhioi, the
priestly perquisites are remarkably similar: a thigh or ham (κωλῆν), a rib or
side (πλευρόν), and a hip or part thereof (ἰσχίον).70 According to Lupu’s
commendable interpretation, divine portions are also specified in this text
and listed as thighbones (μηρούς), pieces cut off from the shoulders
(μασχαλίσματα), as we have seen, and again a half-head (ἡμίκραιρα), all
of which are to be placed on the altar.71 It would accordingly be very
attractive to suppose that either the same or (better yet?) the other half of
the head was granted as a priestly prerogative in some of the lacunae

68
Cf. Ackermann (2007: 120 and esp. with n. 34) on ἡμίκραιρα χορδῆς, which she translates ‘une
demi-tête farcie de boyaux’. The word χορδή can either mean intestines and tripe, or sausage made
from this (Parker 2010b: 194 n. 6). On the distinction between types of entrails, cf. Berthiaume
(1982: 46–8). Despite the attraction of reading a ‘half-head’ measure of sausage (as suggested by
Scullion (2009: 154 n. 5)) or a distinctive type of sausage links, I prefer to follow Ziehen (in LGS II
24) and Ackermann, and think of a half-head ‘stuffed with’ sausage (a shorthand expression or a sort
of descriptive genitive?).
69
IG II² 1359 (c. 350 bce, cp. the more ample restorations of Sokolowski at LSCG 29): τ̣ων
κατ̣αρ̣χ̣[ὴν? – — –] | ἱερειώσυνα τάδε [– — –]|ματα, σκέλος τῆς η[– — –]|α σάρκας ἑκάστης τ
[– — –]|ν ἀμνῶν σκέλος ἑκασ[τ – — –] | ἐπὶ τράπεζαν καταρχὴ[ν – — – γαλα]|θηνοῦ ∶ΙC∶ διδόναι
δὲ καὶ το[– — –] | σκέλος, πλευρόν, ἡμίκραιρα[ν χορδῆς – — –] | τὴν καταρχήν; but note the
uncertainty of the restoration [χορδῆς]. Cf. also IG I3 255 (cp. LSCG 11, c. 430–420 bce) which may
be a similar text with recurring mentions of τράπεζαν on side A, perhaps a sacrificial inventory or
calendar of a trittys, and with the fragmentary side B resembling an account of priestly perquisites
(I thank Parker per litt., citing S. Humphreys, for this parallel; contrast, however, the imperatives in
the text, which are less habitually found in this genre of inscription).
70
NGSL 3 (c. 300–250 bce), with extensive discussion by Lupu; see n. 46 above; but cf. also esp. line 5,
with the problematic lacuna: [ἱερεώσ]υνα κωλῆν πλευρὸν ἰ<σ>χ[ίον – — –].
71
NGSL 3, lines 17–21, cf. n. 46 above.
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 169
which follow the partial lists in this inscription. Furthermore, it would
seem that the regulation from Phrearrhioi confirms a small difference with
the account of Aixone, since here one clearly finds both the rib (πλευρόν)
and the hip (ἰσχίον) mentioned.
Other Athenian inscriptions confirm these substantial parallels and subtle
distinctions. A regulation from Paiania, which usually prescribed financial
compensation to priests instead of pieces of meat, specifies that the priestess
of Hekate is to receive a thigh and a rib or side (πλευρόν) from a sacrifice.72
Similarly the priest of Zeus of the phratry of the Demotionidai is to receive a
thigh, a rib or side (πλευρόν) and an ear (ο̑̓ ς) from all the sacrificial animals.73
In both of these cases, as in one passage from the Phrearrhian regulation, one
does not find the half-head attributed to the priests or priestesses, perhaps
because it was destined for some other ritual purpose or sold separately. Still,
in the regulation of the Demotionidai, one might view the ear as symbolising
a smaller portion of the head reserved for the priest.
In any case, it will be clear from all of these examples that priestly
perquisites at Athens regularly revolved around a specific list of portions:
a leg or thigh, followed by either a side of rib or a side of hip, perhaps
depending on whether a fore- or hindleg was the focus of the divine
portion, and finally, in most cases, a part of the head of the animal. This
fundamental list obviously had an epichoric specificity to Athens, with
a few notable exceptions.74 In interpreting it, due consideration should
certainly be paid to local culinary preferences and practices of butchery.75
But the order of the list was consistent and therefore meaningful in other
respects. It may have represented the significance or the price of the

. . . .
72
LSS. 18 (450–430 bce), B32–5: ε̒ κάτες .. ιʿερείαι .. ὀ̑ ν ἂν τ|ε̑ ι .. εʿκάτει θύεται .. διδόνα[ι | κ]ολε̑ ν, πλευρόν
.
vv . κτλ.
73
LSCG 19 (396/5 bce), lines 4–7: ἱερεώσυνα τῶι ἱερεῖ διδόναι τ|άδε· ἀπὸ τὸ μείο κωλῆν, πλευρόν, ὀ̑ |ς,
ἀργυρίο ΙΙΙ v ἀπὸ τὸ κορείο κωλῆ|ν, πλευρόν, ὀ̑ ς κτλ.
74
Supporting evidence also comes from literary sources: Amipsias fr. 7 ap. Athen. 368e lists frequent
perquisites as the thigh, the side (πλευρόν), and the left side of the head (cf. the remarks of Parker
(2006: 75)). Cp. the cult of Men Tyrannos at a later date in Attica (LSCG 55, first century ad), lines
9–10, where the god receives the right leg, the head, the hooves, and perhaps a small portion of the
ribs or chest not unlike the πλευρόν or τρίπλευρον: παρέχειν δὲ καὶ τῶι θεῶι τὸ καθῆκον, δεξιὸν
σκέλος καὶ δορὰν καὶ κεφαλὴν καὶ πόδας καὶ στηθύνιον. The repartition found during two sacrifices
in the sacrificial calendar of Athens also seems to corroborate this, though here the officials involved
share the usual parts of the priestly portion; cf. Lambert (2002: 363–4, fr. 3 col. 2, lines 53–7):
φυλοβασιλεῖ | σκέλος | κήρυ[κ]ι χ̣έλυος | ποδ[ῶν] κεφαλῆς; but cf. the different series earlier, at lines
40–3: φυλοβ[α]σιλεῦσι | νώτο | κήρυκι ὤμο | ποδῶν κεφαλῆς.
75
On the cuts of meat sold by Athenian butchers, cf. Rosivach (1994: 85–7) and Berthiaume (1982),
both primarily from literary sources. Among other things, the extremities (ἀκροκώλια), parts of the
ribs and neck, as well as parts of the σπλάγχνα, may have been marketed and usually made into
a soup or stew.
170 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
perquisites in descending order, starting with the leg or thigh which
certainly was the most valuable portion and the heaviest in terms of
meat, and ending with a segment of the head. More tentatively, the list
could have signified the order of laying out these portions on a cult-table,
since one probably started with a leg or thigh, then placed other ‘extended’
or loosely ‘associated’ pieces upon it such as ribs or a side of hip (recall the
frequent expressions referring to the distribution of portions ‘on the thigh/
leg’, discussed above). One might then finally have set aside half the head,
and proceeded to make sausage from the tripe and the collected blood of
the animal sacrificed.76 Furthermore, this order neatly parallels the place-
ment and burning of divine portions on the altar, as seen in the lists
from the deme of Phrearrhioi: first came the thighbones (μηρούς), which
were extracted from the hams and legs attributed to priests, followed by
the armpit meats (μασχαλίσματα), which would likely be contiguous
to the πλευρόν (side of ribs) given to priests, and finally the other half of
the head, or perhaps the same half-head which could have been filled with
tripe or sausage (χορδή) even after being burned. The close
connection between the divine and the priestly portions was affirmed by
the consistency of these Attic checklists.
Quite different sequences of perquisites are observable elsewhere, how-
ever, with two other major corpora of inscriptions stemming from Miletus
and its surroundings, as well as from Chios. At Miletus, a fairly good degree
of consistency can also be noticed in most lists of sacrificial cuts and meats.
At least three documents relating to sales of priesthoods from this city
preserve the following order of perquisites: the entrails (σπλάγχνα),
a kidney (νεφρόν), the crooked intestine (σκολιόν), the sacred portion
(ἱερὰ μοῖρα), the tongue (γλῶσσα), followed by a leg and perhaps other
portions.77 However, it is important to remark that this list was by no
means absolute, as a further inscription from Miletus accords the priest the

76
On blood in Greek sacrifice: Ekroth (2002: 242–51), Ekroth (2005). On sausages in particular: Frost
(1999). For further instances of tripe and sausages, cf. the continued list at LSAM 44 (Miletus, c. 400
bce), lines 8–12: ἀπόλοχον· σκ[έ]λη κα̣[ὶ] | κρέας καὶ γα̣σ[τρ]ίον κ[α|ὶ] χορδίον· ἢν δὲ [β]ο̑ ν ἔρ̣[δ|η]ι,
δύο κρέα καὶ χόλικα̣ [κα]ὶ αἱμάτιον; these are probably technical terms for the smaller bowels
(χορδίον), and sausages made from these and ox-blood in the latter case (χόλικα̣ [κα]ὶ αἱμάτιον).
77
LSAM 44 (c. 400 bce), the most detailed and general text, which begins: [τούτοις δὲ οἳ] ἐ̣ πρίαν̣[τ|ο]
τὰς ἱερε[ω]σύνας γίνε|[σ]θ[α]ι· τὰ δ̣έ̣ ρ̣μ̣α̣τ̣α πά̣ ν̣τ̣α̣, | [ὅ]σ’ ἂν ἡ πό̣ λις ἔρδ[η]ι̣ , σπ[λ|ά]γχανα καὶ
νεφρὸν κα[ὶ | σ]κολιὸν καὶ [ἱ]ερὴμ μοί[ρ|η]ν καὶ τὰς γλώσσας πά[σ]|α̣ς· ἀπόλοχον· σκ[έ]λη κα̣[ὶ] . . .;
LSAM 48 (276/5 bce), lines 16–18: διδότω γέρη τῆι ἱερείαι σπλάγχνα, νεφ[ρόν], | σκολιόν, ἱερὰμ
μοῖραν, γλῶσσαν, σκέλος εἰς κοτυληδόνα [(ἐκ)|τ]ετμημένον; and LSAM 52 (14–50 ad), lines B4–7:
καὶ διδ<ό>τωσαν τῶι ἱερεῖ σπλάγχνα, | νεφρόν, σκολιόν, ἱερὰν μοῖραν, γλῶσ<σ>αν, σκέλος δεξιὸν
εἰς κοτυληδόνα τετμημένον καὶ τὴν δορὰν καὶ τὰ λοιπὰ ἱερά. For the etymology of σκολιός, as
‘crooked, winding, tangled’, cf. LSJ s.v.; it ought most properly to refer to the small intestine.
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 171
tongue, the ‘continuous’ ὀσφῦς, and an ὤρη (possibly a foreleg as we have
seen), or, alternatively, this same sort of ὀσφῦς, the tongue, and a thigh.78
One way of interpreting this less typical list is by analogy: the perquisites
here perhaps reflect the last three mentioned in the more extensive
Milesian lists, with the ὀσφῦς as problematically equivalent to the ἱερὰ
μoῖρα, and the ὤρη as a substitute for the leg or thigh. But this is hardly
compelling, and other lists present substantial variations. Such is the case
with the inscription from Thebes on the Mykale, where one finds two
series of portions similar to those at Miletus, one in a slightly different
order, beginning with the tongue instead of the entrails which are not
mentioned, and one in a completely inverse order, starting with the leg,
then followed by the kidney and the crooked intestine.79 From the nearby
sanctuary of Didyma also, there is a small piece of evidence perhaps
suggesting a similar list, and another text informing us that the heads of
sacrificial animals as well as other extremities (ἀκροκώλια) were habitually
sold, which helps to explain the absence of heads (or half-heads) and other
related portions as perquisites in Milesian inscriptions.80
There was evidently more variation at Miletus than at Athens, but one
may still reasonably ask what a list of perks usually beginning with the
entrails might signify. It cannot refer to a descending order of value or to
the order of placement of portions on the cult-table, as at Athens.
Conversely, it could represent an ascending order of value, concluding
with the most valuable portion such as the thigh or leg, though such an
order might be viewed as rather unusual when compared to other Greek
lists.81 Instead, another, stronger possibility suggests itself when one

78
LSAM 46 (c. 300 bce), cf. also n. 32 above.
79
LSAM 40 (third century bce), lines 4–6: λα̣μβάνων γλῶσσαν, | σκολιόν, νεφρό[ν, ἱε]ρὴν μοῖραν,
κωλῆν | καὶ τὰ̣ κώιδια τῶν θυομένων; inverse, LSAM 39 (fourth century bce), lines 21–3: λαμβάνειν
δὲ τοὺς εἰσάγοντας το̑ κου|ρείο τὸ δέρμα καὶ σκέλος καὶ νεφρὸν | καὶ σκολιόν. The latter list is
perhaps short or partial because it is attributed to the sacrificant rather than the priest, who might be
presumed to have himself received another part of the habitual γέρη. As in Athens, this ‘reversed’ list
perhaps began with the hide and the leg to stress their importance and value.
80
SEG 30, 1283 (550–500 bce): [— κα]θαίρεν∶ καὶ τ|ο̑ ∶ ἰρέως∶ γί[νεσθαι – | —] ἀπὸ ἰερηίο∶ κ[— κ|α]ὶ
νεφρ̣[ὸν —]; though the text is extremely lacunose, one might think of restoring a κ[ωλῆν] before the
kidney, and thus an order not unlike the one found in LSAM 39 (n.79 above). For the sale of heads
and other extremities (snouts, feet, etc.) at Didyma, cf. LSAM 54 (c. 300–250 bce), lines 2–10:
πωλεῖσθαι δὲ πάντα σταθμῶι· vv | τῶν δὲ ῥυνχέων καὶ τῶν ἀκροκω|λίων ὑπολογίζεσθαι τὸ τρίτον |
μέρος· <ὑ>πὲρ τῶν κεφαλῶν τῶν | προβατείων· τοὺς δὲ μαγείρ̣[ους] | πωλεῖν τὰς κεφαλὰς τῶ[ν
προβά]|των καθάραντας̣ [αὐτὰς καὶ κόψαν]|τας τὰ κ̣έ̣ ρ̣α̣τ̣[α —]. Cf. also the fragmentary
I. Ephesos 1263, line 6, where an [— ἀκ]ρ̣οκώλιον is listed, whether as a perquisite or not is unclear.
81
Furthermore, the first list found in LSAM 44 (cf. n. 77) almost certainly suggests otherwise, since it
begins with the hides, which were without doubt the most valuable perquisites and perhaps also were
flayed first.
172 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
considers the probable sequence of events which took place during the
post-sacrificial butchering of the animal carcass.82 After the slitting of the
animal’s throat and the sacrifice proper, the carcass would either be strung
up vertically or laid down horizontally, at which point a longitudinal cut
would be made into the abdomen, perhaps all the way to the diaphragm
and the sternum. The entrails and other innards would then be removed.
If the interpretation proposed here is correct, the σπλάγχνα would be
removed first, and these appear to have consisted in the most accessible and
edible major internal organs at this point: the heart, the liver, the pancreas,
the spleen.83 This would then free up access to the kidneys, which lay
concealed underneath the other internal organs and the large intestine (the
latter was likely cut out, and either discarded or used to make sausage).
Only one of these kidneys was apparently given to the priest at Miletus; the
other was perhaps offered to the deity.84 Next, the crooked or small
intestine could be removed and set aside for the priest; it could be used
to make sausage at a later point, after having been cleaned in a designated
area.85 It also seems that in some cases, the removal of the abdominal
organs and the intestines enabled the ὀσφῦς to be directly cut out, followed
by the ‘extended’ thigh or leg. In other sacrificial iterations, the ἱερὰ
μοῖρα – if it indeed belonged to the area of the shoulder – and a foreleg
could be cut out as a priority. Finally, the more extensive practice of
butchering (and cooking) the meat would begin, by performing cuts
along the joints of the body, perhaps starting with the head and moving
down the carcass, though this is not certain.86
On Chios, a few inscriptions also begin by listing the entrails first, the
tongue second, and lastly a double-portion of meat or a perhaps generic

82
Ekroth (2008a: esp. 260–4). One need not be overly concerned with the removal and flaying of hides
here, which could apparently occur before the removal of innards or afterwards.
83
On σπλάγχνα, see Stengel (1910: 73–8) and LSJ s.v.; no definitive list of the organs involved exists
and there were perhaps local variations here too. The gallbladder would also have been removed and
eventually burned to create smoke and sizzle on the altar. Cf. Van Straten (1995: 131–41) on the
participatory consumption of the entrails, using iconographic evidence.
84
Outside of Miletus and its surroundings, the kidneys will perhaps simply have been treated as a part
of the traditional set of σπλάγχνα.
85
For this idea, cf. e.g. the inscription from the Vari cave, LSCG 9 (Attica, c. 450–400 bce): τἄντερ’
ἔχ|σο κλύζετ[ε] | καὶ τὸν ὄν|θον νίζ̣ε̣ τε.
86
Further confirmation for this butchering and cooking order can be sought in a passage of the famous
decree of the Molpoi from Miletus, LSAM 50, lines 34–6, which describes the privileges and duties
of the Onitadai as an illuminatingly explicit post-sacrificial sequence, ‘1) roasting of entrails, 2)
boiling/cooking of meat portions, 3) boiling/cooking and dissection of the osphys and the fifth part
which the stephanephoroi receive, 4) allotment of a (given?) part of meat’: ὄπτησις σπλάγχνων,
κρεῶν ἕψησις, τῆς ὀσφύος καὶ | τῆς πεμπάδος, ἣν στεφανηφόροι ἴσχοσιν, ἕψησις καὶ διαίρεσις, καὶ
μοίρης λά|ξις; cf. Herda (2006: 394–5).
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 173
γέρας.87 But other lists from this island are substantially different, since
they begin with the tongue, usually followed by the entrails and then by
other portions of meat.88 It would seem that the tongue was one of the
most ‘slippery’ portions, since its placement in lists of perquisites varied
considerably.89 It may have been placed ‘last’ on the altar or the cult-table,
as perhaps reflected at Miletus.90 In such cases, the tongue might be cut out
only after the head had been split into two halves (e.g. following the
Athenian example). But in the other cases, when the tongue occurs first
in lists of perks as on Chios, it may be supposed that it was cut out straight
away, probably together with the throat (τράχηλος) when the animal was
slaughtered. In this regard, it could be suggested that some of the rituals
involved had a certain ‘intensity’, though this is by no means assured: for
example, that they involved an offering called a σφάγιον, since the throat of
this animal would be slit down towards the altar or the ground, at which
point the throat and tongue were perhaps immediately removed.91
Whatever the precise case may be, the order of butchery or cooking was
likely also represented at Chios: one might begin with the entrails and then
the tongue; or, inversely, the tongue, then the entrails, followed by the rest.
But the evidence is by no means as consistent as one finds at Miletus.92 As it
happens, a recently published sale of priesthood from Chios has supplied

87
NIK 6 (cf. LSS 77, c. 400 bce), lines 4–8: καὶ προλ[αμβανέ]τω αὑτῶ | καὶ παρὰ το̑ τὰ ἱε̣ [ρ]ὰ
ποιο̑ ντο|ς σπλάγχνα τὰ ἐς [χ]εῖρας καὶ | γούνατα καὶ γλῶ[σ]σαν καὶ κρ|εῶν δύο μοίρας δ[ί]
κρεως . . .; and LSS 78 (fifth century bce), lines 4–8: τῶι ἱ|ρέωι γίνεσθαι σπλ|άγχνα τὰ ἐς γόν|ατα
καὶ γλάσσαι | καὶ γέρας. Cp. also NIK 7 (c. 350–300, cf. LSCG 120), lines 1–5; see now Carbon (2016:
37–40) on this text.
88
Thus also forming an approximate parallel to the order witnessed at Thebes on the Mykale (LSAM
40, cf. nn. 29 and 79 above). On Chios: LSCG 119 (fourth century bce), lines 3–9: δίδοσθαι ὅταν τὸ
γένος | θύῃ γλώσσας καὶ σπλάγ|χνα τὰ εἰς χεῖρας καὶ μερίδ|α δίκρεων καὶ τὰ δέρματ[α·] | ἐὰν δὲ
ἰδιώτης θύῃ δίδο[σθ]|αι τῶι ἱερεῖ γλώσσας καὶ [σπ|λ]άγχνα τὰ εἰς χεῖρας κα[ὶ μ]|ερίδα δίκρεων;
NIK 4 (fifth century bce, cf. LSS 129), lines 2–7: [δ]ίδοσθαι γλάσ|[σα]ς, γέ[ρα], θύα ἀφ’ ὧν | [ἂν]
θύῃ, σπλάγχνα | [ἐ]ς̣ γόνατα καὶ ἐς | χ̣έρας, μοίρας δύω̣, δέρος; and the very fragmentary SEG 56,
997 (fourth century bce), lines 7–14: [δίδο]|σθα̣ι δ̣ὲ τ̣ῶι ἱε̣ ρ̣εῖ Ο̣[– — –] | γλῶσσαν ἀπ̣ ᾽ἑκ[άσ]τ̣ου
[ἱερείου καὶ | σπ]λάγχνα̣ [τ]ὰ εἰς χεῖρα̣[ς – — – |..]ον δύ᾽ ὀβολούς· ἂν δὲ [– — – | δί]δ̣οσθαι τῶι ἱερ̣εῖ
γ̣λῶσ̣[σαν ἀπ᾽ ἑκά|στο]υ̣ ἱερείου κ[αὶ] σ̣πλ̣[άγχνα τὰ ἐς χε|ῖρας, κτλ.
89
On the tongue: Stengel (1910: 172–7); and cf. Kadletz (1981) on the conceptualisation of such
offerings, cf. esp. pp. 28–9 for the idea of placing the tongue ‘last’ on the altar. On the particularity of
tongues at Chios, but probably overstating this specificity, cf. Lupu ap. NGSL 20.
90
This is also perhaps the case at NGSL 20 (c. 400 bce), where during private sacrifices to Eilethyia
a portion of meat, a γέρας, and the tongue are to be placed (in that order?) in a sacrificial basket,
lines A4–7: ἢν δὲ ἰδ|ιώτης ποι[ῇ], δίδοσθαι ἀπὸ το̑ ἱε̣ |ρ̣[ο̑ ], ὥστε ἐς̣ [τὸ] λ̣[ί]κνον ἐνθεῖ[ν]αι | [μ]ο̣ῖραν
καὶ γέρας καὶ γλῶσσαν.
91
See further Ekroth (2002) on this and other types of ‘high-intensity’ rituals.
92
There are also a few lists from Chios that are too fragmentary to interpret: LSS 130 (fourth century
bce), lines 2–5: [— μο]ίρας δύο [— | —]Ι αὐτῶν | [— σ]πλάγχν[α – | – ἑρ]μέας Θ[—]; and LSS 76
(fourth century bce), lines 3–7: [․..] θύα ἀπ’ [ὧν ἂν θύηι, σπλάγ|χν]α τὰ ἐς γ[όνατα καὶ χεῖρας | ․․]
ΚΑΝΤΩΑΛ[— κατὰ | τα]ὐτά· ὅταν [δὲ – ποιῇ ἱρ|ὰ, μ]οίρας δύ[ο —].
174 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
an itemising of perquisites which holds more in common with Athens than
with the rest of the texts found on the island. The fragmentary inscription
awards a leg, a πρότμησις, and the left jaw (γνάθον εὐ[ώ]νυμο[ν]), to the
priestess of an unknown deity.93 This order, if correct, might most recall
the account from Aixone, where priests and priestesses were attributed
a thigh with a side of hip, as well as a half-head. Though there clearly were
some epichoric particularities in these lists, one would therefore be hard-
pressed to argue that they represented strict regional distinctions, between
Athens and Ionia for example. More generally, then, the most one can affirm
is that there were at least two different, conventional arrangements for lists of
perquisites, which one might employ depending on the circumstances of the
ritual. The first began with the leg or thigh and may have signified value as
well as the order of placement of portions on the altar and the cult-table,
while the other suggested the sequence involved in butchering the animal
carcass, beginning with the entrails or with the tongue depending on the
circumstances, and then moving on to other cuts of meat.

Right and Left, Front and Rear

In the epigraphic evidence which relates to priestly perquisites, one finds
that a right-hand portion, particularly a leg, was regularly attributed to the
priest.94 Such a right-hand portion could sometimes also be set aside and
consecrated, or even given explicitly to the god.95 The identity or close
association of the divine and the priestly portions is deeply affirmed by
these texts.96 But this body of material does not represent the majority of
the evidence and several inscriptions do not specify the handedness of
given portions.

93
SEG 56, 996 (late fifth to early fourth century bce), lines 10–11: [– — ὁ ἰδιώ]της τῆι ἱρῆι διδ[ότ]ω
σκέλ[ος δε|ξιὸν – — πρό]τμησιγ, <γ>νάθον εὐ[ώ]νυμο[ν – —]. Parker (2006) provides a detailed
edition and commentary of the text. He restores the qualifier ‘right’ for the leg, which is possible but
far from certain; note, however, the probable remaining lacuna before [πρό]τμησιγ.
94
Among other examples cited above: LSCG 30, line 4; LSAM 12, line 14 (sold for the thesauros or given
to the priestess?); LSAM 13, line 14; LSAM 52, lines B5–6.
95
On the cult-table: IvP III. 161A lines 1–2 and 7–8 (with Lupu NGSL pp. 61–3); perhaps LSCG 125
(Mytilene), line 9 (with IG XII 2, 72 and Suppl. p. 14) or NGSL 9 (Oropos, fourth century bce), line
3. On the altar: LSAM 21 (Erythrai, c. 350 bce), lines 2–3 and 5–6, which indicates right-hand
portions along with the tongue, snout(?), rib(?), and head. Explicitly to the god: LSCG 55, lines 9–10
and 22–3. Cp. also the somewhat enigmatic NIK 7, line 6: above nn. 64 and 87.
96
For the ‘merging’ or ‘convergence’ of divine and priestly portions: Jameson (1994a), Ekroth (2002:
248–50, 257–9; and 2008a: 267–9). But one should be careful of speaking in evolutionary terms,
since the inscriptions suggest that these portions were in fact substantially equivalent or interrelated
throughout the periods in evidence.
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 175
Much like the left jaw witnessed on Chios, there is also now evidence
from Cos that a left leg could be singled out as honorific portion, since it
was attributed as a special prize (ἆθλον) to the victor in a torch-relay race
during the Hermaia.97 Furthermore, osteoarcheological data from Nemea
have come to light suggesting that the left hind leg was preferentially
offered to the hero Opheltes, while the right was consecrated to Zeus
Nemeios.98 This forms a potential parallel to the agonistic contest on
Cos, where the victor received the left leg, while the priest of Hermes
received the right.99 Might one perhaps surmise that the left leg was
somehow more suitable to a heroic or mortal offering than the right,
which was reserved for the gods and their priests? There is, however,
a serious danger of over-conceptualising the sacrificial dichotomy of left
and right in deceptively symbolic terms of ‘unlucky’ versus ‘lucky’, or
‘profane’ versus ‘sacred’.100 In the case of a sacrificial animal, εὐώνυμος
may have signified ‘propitious’ just like δεξιός, and not only euphemisti-
cally. It seems certain, at least, that the left side of animal was not reserved
exclusively for the god, as Puttkammer had once argued.101
In fact, various inscriptions defining ritual norms only specify that ‘the’
leg or ‘the’ thigh is to be given to the priest or honorand. As Puttkammer
noted in one case, this use of the definite article surely implies that the
‘traditional’ leg or portion was given, likely, though not necessarily, from
the right-hand side of the animal.102 A well-known inscription from the

97
IG XII 4, 298A (c. 250–200 bce), lines 58–62: τοῦ | δὲ ἱερείου οὗ θύει ὁ παιδονόμος τᾶι δευτέραι τοῦ
῾Υακινθίου τῶι | Ἑρμᾶι τὰ μὲν ἄλλα κρέα διανειμάτω τοῖς δραμοῦσι τὰν | λαμπάδα, τὸ δὲ εὐώνυμον
σκέλος διδότω ἆθλον τῶι νικάσαν|τι τὰμ πράταν. On the agonistic or competitive context for
offering a leg as an honorary share, see now Tsoukala (2009: 10–11), discussing the iconographic
evidence in particular.
98
Cf. MacKinnon (2010: 252–60).
99
The priest of Hermes Enagonios normally received ‘a leg’ from all the sacrificial animals, IG XII 4,
298A, lines 11–12: γέρη δὲ λαμβανέτω τῶν θυομένων τῶι Ἑρμᾶι τῶι Ἐναγωνίωι δέρμα καὶ σκέλος.
During the sacrifice at the contest, since the left (hind?) leg was attributed as a victory-prize from
a single animal, it is almost certain that the priest then received a right hind leg as a perquisite, as
well as the hide.
100
Cf. the seminal discussion by Lloyd (1962, particularly pp. 61–5) on Aristotle’s conception of the left
and right hemispheres of animal bodies.
101
Puttkammer (1912: 23–5); for this criticism, cf. already Parker (2006: 75 with n. 15).
102
Puttkammer (1912: 25): ‘respicias articulum: τὸ σκέλος, i.e. τὸ νομίζομενον σκέλος δεξίον’, citing
what is now part of the calendar of Cos, IG XII 4, 278 (c. 350 bce), lines 22–3, where the ‘perk-bearer
of the kings’ (γερεαφόρος βασιλέων) receives from the sacrifice to Hestia: τὸ δέρμα καὶ τὸ σκέλος,
ἱεροπο̣ι̣ [οὶ] | δ̣ὲ σ̣κέλος, τὰ δὲ ἄλλα κρέα τᾶς πόλιο̣ς. The first is the habitual, perhaps right hind leg,
whereas the hieropoioi receive another, less specified leg, perhaps the remaining left hind leg. Rather
than always indicating handedness, the article should probably designate the one significant leg
from which divine portions had been removed; cf. also Paul (2013b: 271). Other cases where one
finds τὸ σκέλος include LSS 19 (Athens, 363/2 bce), lines 32–32 and 39 (to be consulted in the
edition of Lambert (1997)), and Inscriptiones Creticae I viii 4 (Guarducci 1935–50) (Knossos, c. 450
176 j a n - m a t h i e u ca r bo n
sanctuary of Apollo Maleatas at Epidauros is particularly useful for imagin-
ing the hierarchies underlying this division between the customary (prob-
ably hind) leg and a remaining leg, almost as if one were dealing with
bipeds rather than quadrupeds. There, one reads that the god is to receive
‘the’ leg from the first ox sacrificed (perhaps to be shared or taken by the
priest afterwards?), while the hieropoioi receive the other; from the second
ox in the procession, the singers (aoidoi) receive ‘the’ leg, while the guards
receive the other and the entrails.103 It is perfectly possible that the article,
instead of always implying handedness, conventionally referred to the leg
or thigh which was best preserved or most attractive, and which therefore
contained the most meat. That there was at times some latitude in the
choice of which leg to offer to the god or to give to the priest is clear, as one
recalls from the regulation at Iasos where the priest can choose ‘a single leg,
whichever one he likes’.104
Furthermore, from what has been proposed here, the transverse section
of the sacrificial animal seems equally significant in practical terms as the
distinction between left and right (the sagittal anatomical plane). In other
words, the idea of giving portions from the front or rear midsections
respectively, after a cut into the navel and abdomen of the animal had
been made, was fundamental in certain sacrifices. The attribution of a hind
leg was often conditional on its link to the πρότμησις or to the hip, or on
its connection with the ὀσφῦς: these were central portions which could not
always be readily divided into left- and righthand segments. The front leg
could also be given as a perquisite, since this was attached to a side of rib or
to a shoulder from which a sacred portion might be extracted. Beyond
a possible choice of left or right, an alternative between front and hind
portions was also sometimes presented to priests.105
*
Inscriptions concerned with Greek sacrifice thus reveal subtle shifts of
emphasis and quite varied local terminology, but nonetheless a remarkable

bce), lines 11 and 15. Cf. also NGSL 11 (Haliartos, c. 235–220 bce), lines 24–5: τὰ οὑπέρπουρα
πάντα κὴ τὰν κωλίαν, ‘all the things roasted on the fire and the thigh’ (assigned to magistrates). For
the reference to tradition rather than a specific handedness, cp. LSAM 23 (Erythrai), lines 15–16: τὸ
σκέλος τὸ πα[ρὰ τὸν βωμὸν πα]|ρατιθέμενον κα[ὶ —]; contrast an odd interpretation of the
definite article as pointing to an exception rather than the norm, in Le Guen-Pollet (1991: 17–18).
103
LSCG 60 (c. 400 bce), lines 10–17: (φερνὰν το̑ ι θιο̑ ι) τὸ σσκέλος τοῦ βοὸς το|ῦ πράτου, τὸ δ’
ἅτερον σκέ|λος τοὶ ἱαρομνάμονες | φερόσθο̄ · τοῦ δευτέρου β|οὸς τοῖς ἀοιδοῖς δόντο̄ | τὸ σκέλος, τὸ
δ’ ἅτερον σκ|έλος τοῖς φρουροῖς δόν|το̄ καὶ τἐνδοσθίδια.
104
LSAM 59 (c. 450–400 bce), lines 1–3: λαμβανέτω δὲ τῶν θυομένων | σκέλος ἕν, ὁποῖον ἂν θέληι, σὺν
τ[ῆι] ὀσφύϊ . . .
105
Cf. above nn. 42 and 56, with ref. to LSAM 1 (Sinope) and LSAM 46 (Miletus) respectively.
 Meaty Perks: Epichoric and Topological Trends 177
degree of coherence as far as portions and perquisites are concerned. Lists
of perks can be viewed as reflecting practices of butchery, or the hierarch-
ical depositing and assignment of portions. Through the agency of the
priest and other participants, the animal was divided and shared, from
κωλῆ to μηρός, from ὦμος to θεομοιρία, and in many other respects such as
the entrails. This symmetry between the human and divine portions of the
sacrificial animal was also expressed on several different but compatible
levels which have not been discussed in detail here because they are seldom
fully explicit in the epigraphic evidence: first, in the distinction between
forms of cookery; and second, in the topography of a sanctuary itself, since
the burned offerings were usually offered on an altar while raw or boiled
portions would be placed beside it, on a cult-table or even a statue, for the
god and eventually for the priest.106 These related aspects, together with
the overall topology of perquisites in the body of the sacrificial animal
delineated in this chapter, all contributed to define Greek sacrifice as
a mirrored relationship between the human and the divine ‘spheres’.107
In particular, it was the concept of the ‘extended’ limb, shared as a meal
between the priest and the god, that articulated this relationship most
vividly. It remains one of the most essential features of Greek sacrifice in
the epigraphical evidence and elsewhere.

106
Burned, cooked, or raw: cf. Ekroth (2008b, esp. p. 104) for forms of cookery as structuring the
‘distinctions’ between gods and men.
107
Cf. Pirenne-Delforge (2010: 134–5) for an insightful discussion on the priestly handling of meats as
a mediation between the human and divine ‘spheres’.
 part iii
Representation
 chapter 7

Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41

Oliver Thomas

This chapter has two aims. Firstly, I will use a much-discussed scene in the
Homeric Hymn to Hermes as a test case for the methodology of interpreting
representations of animal sacrifice in Greek literature. In lines 112–41,
Hermes kills and cooks two of Apollo’s cows, but does not eat them. Is
this a sacrifice or not, and what other questions should we ask? Secondly,
this discussion will allow me to argue more precisely a conclusion attained
by Burkert in 1984, namely that the passage suggests that the Hymn to
Hermes was composed for performance at Olympia.1 I begin with my text
of the passage and a literal translation.
πολλὰ δὲ κάγκανα κᾶλα κατουδαίωι ἐνὶ βόθρωι
οὖλα λαβὼν ἐπέθηκεν ἐπη͜ ετανά, λάμπετο δὲ φλόξ
τηλόσε φῦσαν ἱεῖσα πυρὸς μέγα δαιομένοιο.
ὄφρα δὲ πῦρ ἀνέκαιε βίη κλυτοῦ Ἡφαίστοιο, 115
τόφρα δ’ ὑποβροχίας2 ἕλικας βοῦς εἷλκε θύραζε
δοιὰς ἄγχι πυρός· δύναμις δέ οἱ ἔπλετο πολλή·
ἀμφοτέρας δ’ ἐπὶ νῶτα χαμαὶ βάλε φυσιοώσας,
ἐγκλίνων δ’ ἐκύλινδε δι’ αἰῶνας τετορήσας.
ἔργωι δ’ ἔργον ὄπαζε ταμὼν κρέα πίονα δημῶι, 120
ὤπτα δ’ ἀμφ’ ὀβελοῖσι πεπαρμένα δουρατέοισιν,
σάρκας ὁμοῦ καὶ νῶτα γεράσμια καὶ μέλαν αἷμα
ἐργμένον ἐν χολάδεσσι. τὰ δ’ αὐτοῦ κεῖτ’ ἐπὶ χώρης,

Particular thanks to Robert Parker, under whose guidance I began considering this passage in 2005, and
to the Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies for a bursary to finalize my argument at Fondation
Hardt in 2007. That was before I could see Jaillard (2007), Versnel (2011: 309–77), N. J. Richardson
(2010), Vergados (2013), and (through oversight) Furley (1981: 38–63). Reading these works has not
substantially altered my view, but I certainly regret that I have had very little space to engage with them
in revising what follows.
1
As will become clear, I think it is worth redoing this argument since I disagree with the details of
Burkert’s methodology.
2
Thomas: ὑποβρῡχί͜ ας Ω. The scansion lacks good parallels (Chantraine (1973: 170)), and ὑπο-
‘somewhat’ is irrelevant. ὑποβρόχιος is not otherwise attested. However, semantically it is very
apt, since cows must normally have been led to the altar with nooses (as seen in art; for the rings to
which cows were tied at Claros see Delattre (1992: 22)).

181
182 oliver thomas
ῥινοὺς δ’ ἐξετάνυσσε καταστυφέλωι ἐνὶ πέτρηι,
ὡς ἔτι νῦν τὰ μέτασσα πολυχρόνιοι πεφύασιν 125
δηρὸν δὴ μετὰ ταῦτα καὶ ἄκριτον. αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα
Ἑρμῆς χαρμόφρων εἰρύσσατο πίονα ἔργα
λείωι ἐπὶ πλαταμῶνι, καὶ ἔσχισε δώδεκα μοίρας
κληροπαλεῖς, τέλεον δὲ γέρας προσέθηκεν ἑκάστηι.
ἐνθ’ ὁσίης κρεάων ἠράσσατο κύδιμος Ἑρμῆς· 130
ὀδμὴ γάρ μιν ἔτειρε καὶ ἀθάνατόν περ ἐόντα
ἡδεῖ’. ἀλλ’ οὐδ’ ὧς οἱ ἐπείθετο θυμὸς ἀγήνωρ
καί τε μάλ’ ἱμείροντι περᾶν3 ἱερῆς κατὰ δειρῆς,
ἀλλὰ τὰ μὲν κατέθηκεν ἐς αὔλιον ὑψιμέλαθρον
δημὸν καὶ κρέα πολλά, μετήορα δ’ αἶψ’ ἀνάειρεν 135
σῆμα νέης φωρῆς. τὰ δ’, ἐπὶ4 ξυλὰ κάγκαν’ ἀείρας,
οὐλόποδ’ οὐλοκάρηνα πυρὸς κατεδάμνατ’ ἀϋτμῆι.
αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ πάντα κατὰ χρέος ἤνυσε δαίμων,
σάνδαλα μὲν προέηκεν ἐς Ἀλφειὸν βαθυδίνην,
ἀνθρακιὴν δ’ ἐμάρανε, κόνιν δ’ ἀμάθυνε μέλαιναν 140
παννύχιος, καλὸν δὲ φόως ἐπέλαμπε Σελήνης.
[Hermes] packed together much desiccated timber and
added it in abundance, in a pit sunk into the ground.
And the flame began to shine, sending far and wide the
puffs of the strongly blazing fire. (115) While famous
Hephaestus’ force was kindling the fire, he dragged
a pair of spiral-horned cows outside by a noose to near
the fire – his strength was great – and cast both of them
puffing to the ground onto their backs; then as he leaned
over he pierced their vital parts and sent them rolling.
(120) He added deed to deed after cutting up the meat
rich with fat, and roasted it skewered on long wooden
spits – the flesh together with the honorific chines and
the dark blood enclosed within the intestines. Other
parts lay there in their place, but he stretched out the
skins on a rugged rock, (125) as still now in later times
they are planted there indistinguishably, long-lasting,
and have been so for a very long time after these events.
And next joyful Hermes pulled off his rich handiwork

3
Barnes: περῆν M: πέρην’ Θ: πέρην p. Though πέρνημι/περάω normally refers to sea-crossings,
Barnes’s emendation seems best. Note that infinitives in -ναι are not elided in early epic.
4
τὰ δ’, ἐπί Thomas: ἐπὶ δέ Ω. οὐλόποδ’ οὐλοκάρηνα cannot modify ξυλά or τὰ μέν: οὐλο-/ὁλο-
implies a closer connection than ‘along with all of’, and Hermes can hardly create a ‘sign’ which he
then burns before anyone sees it. The natural contrast expressed by μέν . . . δέ is rather between the
flesh and fat (stored) and the rest (burnt); and otherwise the poet carefully details the fate of most of
the body-parts, but leaves those mentioned in verse 123 lying around. A definite article is needed, to
show that the topic has shifted.
 Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41 183
onto a smooth flat rock, split twelve portions to be
assigned by ballot, and added a perfect honorific portion
to each. (130) Then glorious Hermes felt a lust for the
right to consume the meat, since the smell was torment-
ing him despite his immortality, so sweet was it. But not
even so did his manly spirit listen, though he greatly
desired to pass the meat down his sacred throat. Rather,
he deposited some parts – the (135) fat and the plentiful
meat – in the lodge with the high-ridged roof, and
straightaway raised it up on high,5 a sign of his recent
theft. The rest, including all of the feet and all of the
heads, he totally destroyed with the blast of fire, after
piling on dry wood. But when the divinity had com-
pleted everything as required, he cast his sandals away
into the deep-whirling Alpheus, (140) made the embers
die down, and levelled the black ash into the sand for the
rest of the night; and Selene’s fair light shone upon him.
One point which requires preliminary justification at some length is my
translation of 130 ὁσίης. Three constructions of the genitive are possible:
(i) ‘lusted after (the) ὁσίη of the meat’; (ii) ‘the meat of (the) ὁσίη’; or
(iii) ‘At that point of (the) ὁσίη’. In my view, the noun normally means
‘being or behaving in a way authorized by divine law’, killing Apollo’s cattle
is not ὅσιος behaviour, and this rules out (ii) and (iii). This suggests an
approximate sense, for which LSS 115 A21–5 (Cyrene; fourth century, con-
taining earlier material) gives a more precise parallel: for everyone there is
ὁσία of the Akamantia and the shrines, but there is not ὁσία for the pure
from most places of death.6 Here ‘ὁσία of the shrines’ seems to mean
‘religious authorization to consume the meat sacrificed at the shrines’, and
‘ὁσία from places of death’ perhaps ‘religious authorization to consume meat
taken away from sacrifices at tombs’. It makes good sense here for Hermes to
desire the right to eat his beef.7 This meaning does not, however, exhaust the
word, and we will return shortly to add further interpretative precision
(p. 194; n. 49).

5
The sense may be ‘suspended in the air’ or ‘piled up into the air’; see further n. 46.
6
See Parker (1983: 336–9). Sokolowski prints ὅσιᾰ, but the idiom οὐχ ὁσίᾱ should be preserved.
7
It is worth mentioning a different interpretation which is ungrounded. Van der Valk (1942)
suggested that the notion ‘acquitted of debts to the divine’ was essential to ὅσιος, in opposition to
ἱερός. Jeanmaire (1945) then argued that in six passages, including ours and the Cyrenaean law, ὁσία
took on concrete senses based on desacralization. Against Van der Valk’s view of the ὅσιος/ἱερός
distinction see e.g. Connor (1988). In three of Jeanmaire’s other passages one can translate ‘religiously
acceptable behaviour’, as normal (Hom. Hymn Dem. 211, Ap. 237, Herm. 173); his final passage is
corrupt (Diggle (1970: 118–20)). Cf. Versnel (2011: 323 n. 45).
184 oliver thomas
Are Hermes’ Actions a Sacrifice?
Burkert took Hermes’ action as a sacrifice, and a detailed aition for a real
sacrifice. Kahn thought it a sacrifice, but only a ‘pseudo-sacrifice’, ‘au sens où
son objet sera de subvertir la bipolarité infrangible [between sacrificer and
recipient], non pour la détruire mais pour introduire passage là où il y avait
frontière sans recours’. Clay argued that it is not a sacrifice of any sort.8
Function and intention were fundamental to animal sacrifice, which
involved one class of beings carefully destroying animals in order to render
cooperative beings who (they believed) were of a more divine class.9 In my
view, to call an action without this function a ‘sacrifice’ risks confusion,
even if the Greeks might have occasionally used ἱερεύω or later θύω.10 Does
Hermes, then, aim to make other divinities cooperative by his actions, and
does he think himself human, or of an intermediate divinity like that of
a nymph, while he acts?11
Regarding the first half of this question, Hermes does not want anyone to
know about his actions, let alone to look favourably upon them. The whole
theft is conducted secretively under the cover of darkness (66–8). He threa-
tens a witness into silence (92–3), hides the cattle in a steading (106), and tries
to elude his mother’s notice (145–54). He does not advertise his butchery to
anyone, and removes most of the traces after the event.
This interpretation certainly requires us to answer some further ques-
tions, which will be addressed below.12 By contrast, alternative interpreta-
tions face a more durable objection: they introduce things about which the
text is silent as fundamental aspects of motivation. According to Clay,
Hermes expected the gods to come for the meat, then inferred that the gods
do not eat meat, then cleared up out of embarrassment. But of expectation,
inference and embarrassment the hymn gives no hint.13 Leduc suggests that

8
Burkert (1984). Kahn (1978), citation from 46–7: ‘in the sense that its aim will be to subvert the
unbreakable dipole [between sacrificer and recipient], not to destroy it but to introduce a crossing
where there was an intractable boundary’. Clay (1989: 116–27).
9
I say ‘cooperative’ here rather than ‘well-disposed’ so as to include oath-sacrifices. Nymphs, of
intermediary status, may sacrifice to Zeus: [Aesch.] PV 529–31. Gods do not sacrifice to each other,
but may supplicate and pour libations to each other: for the latter see Patton (2009).
10
Casabona (1966: 22–5, 81). See Gibert (2003) on gods metaphorically ‘sacrificing’ humans.
11
How divine Hermes is must not be confused with his initial status within Olympian society. His
actions are explicitly aimed at progressing from his lowly status (cf. Hom. Hymn Herm. 166–81).
12
For example, why does Hermes make twelve portions? Why does he fail to clear up properly?
13
Clay (1989: 122–3). She appears to assign Hermes the following reasoning: ‘The gods eat meat and
will come to my cooking; they have not come, therefore they do not eat; I also cannot eat, therefore
I am a god.’ I for one could not extract this complicated and invalid reasoning from the passage.
Furthermore, Hermes finds himself able not to swallow the meat, rather than unable to, and that is
not evidence about divinity: see below.
 Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41 185
Hermes expected the gods to come but not eat (as for a theoxeny) and that
they approve: again, both expectation and approval would be crucial points
which the hymnist omitted to mention.14
It is harder to judge how divine Hermes perceives himself to be, since the
text gives little access to his thoughts. However, he is proud of his heritage
(Hom. Hymn Herm. 59), and the presentation of his hunger suggests that he
knows in his θυμός that gods should not eat meat, and thinks that this
applies to him. Superficially, Hermes’ strong bodily desire for food (64
κρειῶν ἐρατίζων – a formula applied to lions in the Iliad) looks like
a reason to doubt his divinity, since most Greek literature represents the
gods as neither desiring nor eating meat. However, there are various
exceptions (notably in comedy), and a perfectly coherent interpretation
is that Hermes’ leonine hunger is a humorous touch.15 After all, when
Apollo also describes Hermes as κρειῶν ἐρατίζων (287), this is in his mind
compatible with Hermes’ divinity: the hunger is an overstated character-
ization of Hermes’ misbehaviour, and fits easily into the Hymn’s light-
hearted representation of his mischief and immaturity.16 More telling is
how Hermes’ hunger is presented at 130–3, when Hermes still wants to eat
but does not. His θυμός overrules temptation, and the fact that it ‘did not
listen’ suggests that it had opposed his hunger before as well, but been
ignored: in other words, what changes is the balance of power among his
impulses. Specifically, the echo 130 ἔνθ’ ὁσίης κρεάων ἠράσσατο ~ 64
κρειῶν ἐρατίζων marks how Hermes’ unmediated desire has ceded to
recognition of cultural rules. Furthermore, the reason for the intervention
of the θυμός is suggested by the double reference to the norm that the gods
do not eat meat: Hermes is troubled by the smell ‘though immortal’, and
his throat is specified to be sacred.
Nor, probably, did the audience start with an expectation that Hermes
had to learn his full divinity. This is not the case with Apollo, who has
similar parentage and illegitimacy but knows his divinity instantly at
Homeric Hymn to Apollo 131–2.17 Far from seeding suspicion about

14
(2005: 158–62). I discuss Leduc’s account of Hermes’ actions from 128 onwards below.
15
Gods eating meat in Aristophanes: Pax 202; Hermes at 192–3, 386–8, Plut. 1128–30, 1136–7, cf.
Versnel (2011: 352–64); for Heracles after his apotheosis, see e.g. Pax 741, LIMC IV i 798–801, 817–21.
In the distant past, Zeus had chosen what looks like fatty meat at Mekone, and Demeter had eaten
Pelops’ shoulder. Hermes tastes his cooking in Apollodorus’ version of our myth (n. 29). Athena,
disguised as Mentor, appears to taste σπλάγχνα at Od. 3.66 (see Simon (1953: 9–13)). All this refutes
Vernant (1989: 165): ‘If [Hermes] tasted it, he would become a man.’
16
For infants’ strong physical desires, see Democritus 68 B70 DK ‘Unmeasured desire belongs to the
child, not the man.’
17
This comparison is actively suggested by Hom. Hymn Herm.: Thomas (2009: 290–5).
186 oliver thomas
Hermes’ status, the primary narrator tells us that Hermes was born of two
immortal parents (20), is a θεός (54), and had a ἱερός cradle (21, 63).18
In sum, there are hints that Hermes knows from the start that he is
divine and that divinities should not eat meat, and this is probably what the
audience would assume anyway; nor is he aiming to propitiate anybody.
His actions are, therefore, not a sacrifice by my definition.

Hermes’ Actions Evoke Sacrificial Procedures

Models, perversions, and parodies of sacrifice need not be sacrifices in the
strict sense, but nevertheless require us to ask in what ways they resemble
sacrifice. For example, Prometheus’ division of the ox at Mekone aims to
dishonour the gods, but must in other respects closely resemble the
sacrificial ritual whose aition it is. As gods may be portrayed performing
sacrificial procedures to provide a legitimating model for sacrifices by
humans, so Hermes’ actions clearly evoke sacrifices.19
He kills two flawless cows, exemplary sacrificial victims for whose
slaughter the Greeks probably knew no regular context except
sacrifices.20 Verses 130–3 emphasize the division of participation in sacri-
fices, between gods smelling (normally burnt fat not roast meat: Versnel
2011: 310 n. 6) and the human appetite for meat. We also find the language
of ritual. This resonance is particularly clear in ὁσίης (130), but we are
primed for the sacrificial connotations of other phrases too. ἔργωι δ’ ἔργον
ὄπαζε (120) presents a repetition typical of ritualized language; since ἔργωι
‘handiwork’ actually refers to the blood-letting, it is relevant that the stem
ἐργ- often means ‘sacrifice’.21 In v. 137, οὐλο- . . . οὐλο- is another repeti-
tion of a semantic item with ritual connotations (e.g. ὁλοκαυ(σ)τ- and
ὁλόκαρπος, of sacrificial offerings); the special connection of feet and heads
occurs several times in sacred laws.22 In τέλεον γέρας (129), τέλε(ι)ος is,

18
Kahn (1978: 56) argues that Hermes’ divinity is doubtful when he invents a fire-technique viable for
humans (vv. 108–11), like a culture-hero. But Thoth and Enki, for example, are divine culture-
‘heroes’, and Hephaestus teaches men firecraft.
19
On these portrayals, see Patton (2009: 27–180). For Mekone, see e.g. Hes. Theog. 535–60.
20
The most difficult passage to square with this view is [Arist.] Oec. 1349b11–13, but even there the
distinction is probably between perfunctory sacrifice and more formal sacrifice at a sanctuary. Clay
(1989: 119) asserts that banqueting is ‘sufficiently distinct [from sacrifice] to have its own set of rules’,
and then dismisses the interpretative schema ‘sacrifice’ entirely. But, as far as the evidence goes, most
banquets entailed a kind of sacrifice, and Clay does not account for the pointed similarities
mentioned in this section.
21
‘Doing’ and ritual: Casabona (1966: 301–4); Yatromanolakis and Roilos (2004: 9); N. J. Richardson
(1974: 303–4).
22
Burkert (1983: 105 n. 11).
 Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41 187
along with τελήεις, a vox propria for sacrificial victims, and the γέρας from
the animal is often mentioned in sacred laws. Blood sausages (123–4) and
the assignment of portions by lot (129) also occurred at sacrifices.23
πλαταμῶνι (128) probably evokes the tables placed in sanctuaries for
carving or depositions.24 Verse 121, and 127 εἰρύσσατο, unmistakably recall
formulaic descriptions of sacrifice in the Homeric poems, while avoiding
the exact phrases. Particularly close are:
μίστυλλόν τ’ ἄρα τἆλλα καὶ ἀμφ’ ὀβελοῖσιν ἔπειραν,
ὤπτησάν τε περιφραδέως, ἐρύσαντό τε πάντα.25
They cut up the rest and skewered them over spits,
carefully roasted them, and pulled them all off.
δαῖτ’ ἐντυνόμενοι κρέα τ’ ὤπτων ἄλλα τ’ ἔπειρον Od. 3.33
They were roasting meat and skewering other parts in
preparation for a feast.
οἱ δ’ ἐπεὶ ὤπτησαν κρέ’ ὑπέρτερα καὶ ἐρύσαντο . . . Od. x3
When they had roasted the remaining meat and pulled
it off . . .
The Hymn’s divergence from such formulas allows the poet to describe
Hermes’ actions in more than usual detail, and suggests that they do not
follow predetermined procedures. But the overlap simultaneously
evokes those procedures.26 Similarly 138 κατὰ χρέος superficially means
‘according to (his) need’, i.e. to hide the traces from Apollo, but given
the foregoing, the sense ‘according to set [i.e. ritual] procedure’ can
hardly be elided.27 Finally, Hermes’ actions as a whole are proleptic of
his role as patron of official κήρυκες who butchered the victims at some
public sacrifices; in v. 331, Zeus will recognize Hermes as φυὴν κήρυκος
ἔχοντα.28

23
Sacrificial sausages: Ar. Ach. 145–6, 1040–1 with Olson (2002); Ath. 4 138–9a; Sokolowski on LSCG
151 A52 αἱμάτιον. Sacrificial ballots: Plu. QConv. 642f–4, LSAM 50.35–6 (Miletus, fifth centuy),
Hsch. s.v. μοιρολογχεῖν.
24
Carving: Durand (1986: 116–23), esp. fig. 38. Depositions: Gill (1974). For other tables, Gill (1991),
Jameson (1994a).
25
Il. 1.465–6, 2.428–9, Od. 14.430–1; cf. Il. 7.317–18, Od. 19.422–3 (v.l., in a δαίς-preparation which is
not explicitly sacrificial).
26
Hom. Hymn Herm.’s avoidance of formulas is emphasized by Van Nortwick (1975: 107–10). Clay
(1989: 119 n. 82) takes it as evidence that Hermes’ actions have nothing to do with sacrifice.
27
For κατὰ χρέος ‘according to proper procedure’, see Ap. Rhod. 4.889 (of stowing ship’s tackle), LSJ
s.v. χρέος II 2.
28
For κήρυκες at sacrifices, see Burkert (1984: 840).
188 oliver thomas
These links to sacrificial procedure were simplified by Apollodorus, who
has Hermes boil and eat parts of the meat.29 A different class of parallels
come from other Greek narratives of cattle-rustling. The most famous extant
one is that of Nestor’s companions at Il. 11.670–761. They steal their cattle
and drive them back, at night, on an itinerary involving Alpheus and Pylos
(all as in the Hymn), before sacrificing them in celebration. In a private
enterprise, Heracles steals Geryon’s cattle and eventually brings them to
Tiryns where they are sacrificed to Hera.30

Sacrifices and Literature: Some Methodology

Hermes’ actions are not a sacrifice, but evoke sacrificial procedures and
vocabulary, prompting us to compare them with those procedures. But
how we should do that is not trivial. I will begin with four observations
which I hope are relatively uncontroversial when stated.
(i) Greek sacrificial procedures were composed of numerous elements that
could not be combined promiscuously. The significance of each element
was partly context-dependent, and historical rituals were constructed
from a series of elements that was felt to have a certain coherence.
(ii) Certain sets of elements frequently co-occurred, as the kernels of
various ‘types’ of sacrifice. However, one must be cautious about
assuming that two sacrifices of the same type (particularly that which
is often called ‘Olympian θυσία’) were identical in all their elements,
since our sources indicate a range of local idiosyncrasies.31
(iii) Literary sources are selective, and generic norms affect how significant
it is to omit particular elements. For example, most literary represen-
tations of sacrifice do not mention preliminary purifications, but that
does not imply that such purifications were historically rare.32
(iv) Literary representations are subject to both the logic of a broader
narrative and the author’s ‘literary’ aims (e.g. a particular characteriza-
tion). They are not neutral documentation. Thus, given a good reason,
an author could simultaneously evoke more than one ‘type’ of sacrifice.

29
Bibl. 3.112 ‘After sacrificing [καταθύσας] two, he nailed the hides to rocks, and of the meat he boiled
and consumed some, and burned the rest.’ Kahn (1978: 67) nicely says that Apollod reduces the
‘épaisseur opératoire’ of Hom. Hymn Herm.’s account.
30
Apollod Bibl. 2.106–12. For Heracles and Hermes, see below, p. 197.
31
See e.g. Bremmer (1996: 249–68), ThesCRA i 95–129, against the simplified composite picture in e.g.
Burkert (1983: 3–6), Detienne (1989: 9–13).
32
For the norms of archaic hexameter, see Kirk (1980: 64), Hitch (2007). It is legitimate to consider
why a generic norm might have turned an essential for real rituals into a rarity for fictional ones, but
that will not be my concern here.
 Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41 189
I now turn from this groundwork to previous analyses of our passage,
beginning with Burkert (1984), which takes insufficient account of points
(i) and (iv). With characteristic erudition, Burkert amassed parallels
between Hermes’ actions and elements known in cults, but the cults
used as parallels form a very disparate set – they belong to different periods,
different communities (including non-Greek ones), and mix Olympian
and chthonian recipients. Burkert admitted this heterogeneity, but never-
theless suggested that Hermes’ actions could as a whole reflect a real cult.
However, since each similarity is only partial, he did not show that such
a cult would have had a coherent significance; he simply assumed that there
was a single sacrificial comparandum. Furthermore, he did not consider
how narrative logic affects the description.
Kahn (1978) fails to take account of points (ii), (iii), and (iv). She takes
the only relevant schema for judging Hermes’ ‘sacrifice’ (as she sees it) to be
the composite one of Olympian θυσία,interpreted through the narrative of
Prometheus’ ox-division. This imposes ‘rules’: her chapter is entitled
‘Contre les règles: un sacrifice efficace’. All of the many omissions and
divergences from the schema are ripe for interpretation. For example,
Kahn thought that a common sacrificial element was the willingness of
the victim, which is opposed by the cows’ struggle at Hom. Hymn Herm.
116–19; but the victim’s willingness (even setting aside the question of
whether it was really needed) is not expected in archaic hexameter descrip-
tions of sacrifices, so its absence is scarcely interpretable. Kahn barely
considers broader narrative logic.33
These objections certainly do not render Kahn’s study worthless for
understanding Hermes and his Hymn. In particular, ‘Promethean’ sacrifice
does indeed offer an important interpretative schema (and we can now add
this point to the evidence of the previous section that the Hymn is evoking
sacrificial procedures). Hermes and Prometheus are related; both are
renowned helpers of humans; both make a fire-technique available to
humans; this act is intimately related to expert bovine butchery, and to
sexual reproduction.34 Prometheus’ division also causes the distinction of
eating (human) and savouring (divine) which, as mentioned, is evoked in
33
The resulting analysis concludes that Hermes collapses the normal distinction between sacrificer and
recipient, as in other respects he can penetrate boundaries without destroying their validity for
others; in particular, by killing then refusing to eat the cows he can himself pierce the boundary
between non-divine and divine. The last claim has been rejected above. Kahn argued her position via
some dubious philology, which I discuss in Thomas (2012). On the ‘willing victim’, see Georgoudi
in this volume (Chapter 4), Naiden (2007).
34
This is more subtle in Hermes’ case: as well as the phallic fire-plough at Hom. Hymn Herm. 109–10,
see 493–4 where Hermes promises to introduce Apollo’s cows to reproduction; cf. Kahn (1978: 56).
190 oliver thomas
Table 1

Prometheus (Hesiod) Hermes (Hom. Hymn Herm.)

Unequal butchery. Equal butchery.

Attempt to outwit Zeus. Not even communicative.
Later needs to steal divine fire. First decides to invent human-friendly fire-technique.

Hom. Hymn Herm. 130–3. The hymnist probably knew Hesiod’s treatment
of Prometheus, and may allude to it.35 The two narratives are also opposites
in important ways (see Table 1, and below), which nuance the intertextual
relationship rather than detracting from it.
The third and final work I wish to consider is Leduc (2005: 158–62). Her
discussion takes better account of the four observations with which this
section began, but is unsatisfactory in other ways. I have mentioned that
Leduc suggests, without any hint from the text, that Hermes starts by
preparing a human-style δαίς which turns into a theoxeny of which the
other gods approve. She goes on to suggest that at verse 128 Hermes converts
his rite into one involving τραπεζώματα, i.e. deposition of portions for gods
who are not expected to come, and finally (134–6) into a dedication; this
apparently incoherent series would be justified by a literary point of demon-
strating Hermes’ mastery of exchanges.36 However, the allusion to a table
(128 πλαταμών) is insufficient as a prompt for us to shift schema to that of
τραπεζώματα. For one thing, tables were used in a variety of sacrificial
situations; more particularly, the rock here functions as a carving-table,
whereas an offering-table very probably received pre-cut depositions.

Hermes’ Actions Reconsidered

Let me recapitulate the groundwork up to this point. Hermes’ actions are
not a sacrifice, but they evoke sacrificial procedure, including the sequence
35
At Hom. Hymn Herm. 243 |γνῶ δ’ οὐδ’ ἠγνοίησε, Apollo recognizes Maia and sees through Hermes’
trick of pretending to be innocently asleep, which has been compared to a hidden ember (237–42);
Apollo subsequently (256–9) threatens him with punishment in Tartarus. At Hes. Theog. 551 |γνῶ ῥ’
οὐδ’ ἠγνοίησε, Zeus sees through Prometheus’ trick about dividing the ox; Prometheus later hides
the seed of fire; Zeus ends up punishing him as if in Tartarus (West (1966: 313–15)). The phrase cited
is not extant elsewhere. δόλον αἰπύν occurs only at Hom. Hymn Herm. 66, and of Pandora at Hes.
Theog. 589, Op. 83.
36
The Hymn certainly emphasizes this mastery, especially at 516–17 τιμὴν γὰρ πὰρ Ζηνὸς ἔχεις
ἐπαμοίβιμα ἔργα | θήσειν ἀνθρώποισι, ‘For you have from Zeus the honour that you will lay
down the business of interchange for humankind.’
 Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41 191
of ritual actions for which Prometheus’ ox-division formed the aition.
The poet had to negotiate potential conflicts between these evocations
and the demands of the broader narrative context; his choices were partly
influenced by literary norms. In this section, I give my results in interpret-
ing Hermes’ actions on this basis.
Generally, the poet places weight on narrative coherence and does not
evoke elements that would conflict with it. Hermes cannot waste time on
defining a boundary for his actions (ἵδρυσις of the sacred site), or setting up
a cauldron in which to boil the flesh slowly; nor does he find barley grains
to hand and sprinkle them over the cows; he has no need to wash his hands,
or pour liquid as if in libation. Narrative logic motivates Hermes’ βόθρος
(112), which enables him to create a large fire whose logs are not too high up
(he is only an infant, after all) and whose blaze will be less conspicuous if
Apollo is already chasing him; its ash can be hidden more quickly than
a blood-spattered stone altar.37 Hermes also cannot stun the cows from
above (perhaps as an infant he is too short), but is powerful enough to
throw them onto their backs. We are told that he bores through their αἰών
(the precise anatomical sense of which here is unclear), because his capacity
for piercing things is thematized in the Hymn. Both actions are also
conditioned by an intratext: this initial treatment of the cows echoes the
treatment of the tortoise at vv. 41–6. Both animals are overturned and have
their αἰών pierced through their fronts (in particular 42 αἰῶν’ ἐξετόρησεν ~
119 δι’ αἰῶνας τετορήσας). The parallelism sets up the Hymn’s eventual
exchange of lyre (dead tortoise) for cows.38 Finally, one might infer from
the omission of σπλάγχνα, which in epic are normally spit-roasted and
tasted before the rest of the meat, that the poet wished to focus on the
twelve equal, substantial portions. We will return to their importance
shortly.39
To my mind the only element whose evocation is noteworthily
avoided, given the factors of narrative logic and generic norms, is the
act of exsanguination, which could have been mentioned alongside the
phrase δι’ αἰῶνας τετορήσας which has replaced the act of slitting the

37
Building a fire in a depression also protects against the wind, and is regularly attested in Greece.
We know little about the archaic and Classical cultic significances of βόθρος: see Ekroth (2002:
60–74), which sadly leaves aside archaeological evidence. For pits in sanctuaries which have
traditionally (but without cogent evidence) been labelled βόθροι and related to chthonic rituals,
see Riethmüller (1999).
38
Other acts of piercing occur at Hom. Hymn Herm. 178, 283, and the motif is rightly central to Kahn
(1978).
39
The σπλάγχνα are also omitted from Hesiod’s description of Prometheus’ sacrifice: Vernant (1989:
26 n. 17) explains that their intermediate status was incompatible with the sharp lines drawn there.
192 oliver thomas
throat. The exsanguination seems to be present merely in 120 ἔργωι.
The ‘euphemism’ is unusual in epic, though it is found in vase-painting,
where σφάξις is hardly ever depicted except in oath-sacrifices
(σφάγια).40
The presence of other elements suggests sacrificial rituals which take us
beyond the comparison with Prometheus’ ox-division. The ritual connota-
tion of κατὰ χρέος would be confusing if the only applicable schema were
that of Prometheus, since Hermes’ actions are quite different. This tells us
nothing specific about the other schema(s) evoked. However, the reference
to distribution by lot may well have meant something precise to the
audience. Certainly, characterization goes some way to explaining it,
since it is one of the Hymn’s many prolepses of Hermes’ future fields of
operation, and adds to the contrast between Hermes’ equal and
Prometheus’ unequal butchery.41 But these factors seem too weak to
provide a full explanation: lots were, as far as we know, a peripheral
association for Hermes, and the equality of the portions is already
strongly emphasized by the assignment of a τέλεον γέρας to each, in
pointed renunciation of the norm whereby very few participants received
a γέρας.
As well as the equality of the portions, there is the problem of their
number: why does Hermes make twelve portions if he is the only diner
envisaged? The raison d’être of the eleven extra portions is not intrinsic (i.e.
to be enjoyed by consumers), but a symbolic relevance can readily be
perceived in their relationship of equality with Hermes’ portion. Hermes
carves them to symbolize his goal of attaining equal honours among
a group of divinities. We have already been given hints of his ambition,
in his eagerness to have contact with Apollo and his wily comment that the
tortoise will benefit him (35); at 166–73 he explicitly states his ambition to
lead an Olympian lifestyle.42 The hypothesized symbolism enhances the
contrast between Hermes and Prometheus. The latter’s unequal butchery
unwittingly engenders the unequal division of the human and divine
conditions, whereas Hermes’ egalitarian butchery asserts his desire to
equate his status with that of the other gods; Hermes and Apollo are
brought to harmony at the end of the Hymn, whereas Hesiod leaves
Prometheus and Zeus at loggerheads. However, the number twelve is a

40
See van Straten (1995: 103–13).
41
Hermes is a patron of lots in Eur. fr. 24a. Lots are associated with equal portions in e.g. Plut. Quaest.
conv. 643a.
42
We come to realize that at 35 Hermes already saw the lyre as a potential bargaining counter by which
he could keep the cows he already intended to steal, and thus acquire τιμή.
 Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41 193
clear allusion to Dodecatheon-cults, which takes us beyond Prometheus.43
A natural interpretation is that the poet alludes to a specific Dodecatheon.
Alternatively, the Dodecatheon stands more vaguely as a symbol for an
associated abstraction, namely equality among gods. In the next section we
will see general arguments in favour of the more specific option.
Finally, the presence of some features is the more remarkable given that
they override narrative logic, to which the poet generally adhered. Hermes
kills not one but two cows. He forgets to clear away the skins, and actively
leaves the steaks as a sign, when he is otherwise careful to cover his tracks.
In summary, several features resist a simple explanation from the Hymn’s
narrative concerns, including the contrast with Prometheus. These are the
butchery of two cows, and possibly the allusion to a Dodecatheon and to
ballot, and the debris. It is in this residue that we will best be able to discern
evocation of other sacrificial procedures.

Beyond Similarity: Aitia and Precursors

Hermes’ treatment of the hides causes a topographical feature (a rock-
formation) that is still visible; indeed, lines 124–6 tautologously use the
expressions of continuity typical in aitia.44 Since Hermes’ failure in clear-
ing up goes flatly against his apparent desire to do so and his cunning, the
creation of aetiological debris must have been fundamental to some other
poetic concern.45 This reinforces the likelihood that the σῆμα of meat
(134–6), which within the Hymn does not signal anything to anyone, is also
an aition for an object existing in the poet’s time – probably another stone-
formation.46 There is a third possible topographical aition. Though
Hermes quenches the embers (140 ἐμάρανε), a ‘glinting fire’ is still

43
On Dodecathea, see Georgoudi (1996), Long (1987), Weinreich (1937).
44
Pelliccia (1989); cf. e.g. Hdt. 3.48.3 τῆι καὶ νῦν ἔτι χρέωνται κατὰ ταὐτά, Call. Hymn 3.77–8 εἰσέτι
καὶ νῦν . . . μένει.
45
In Sophocles’ Ichneutai, Hermes kills the cows to get gut strings for his lyre. But in Hom. Hymn
Herm. he constructs the lyre before stealing the cows. More specifically an alternative account,
which possibly preceded Hom. Hymn Herm. in the Megalai Ehoiai (‘Hes.’ fr. 256: cf. schol. Ant. Lib.
23), focused on a man called Battos, who saw Hermes mid-theft, promised not to snitch, but was
later found susceptible to bribery and turned into a silent rock, namely ‘Battos’ look-out’ in SW
Arcadia. Our hymnist may thus have chosen to reconfigure a motif of aetiological petrifaction, by
transferring it to the passage under consideration.
46
Depending on one’s interpretation of μετήορα (n. 5), one might think of a stalactite, stalagmite, or
cairn. Possibly the audience’s local knowledge made them favour one option, or possibly the aition
was ad hoc and designedly versatile. Leduc (2005: 159) suggests that the σῆμα evokes suspended
dedications in general, rather than a topographical feature. Less plausibly, Crudden (1994: 148)
envisages a rite where sacrificial portions were actually piled up, and Eitrem (1906: 259 n.16) saw an
aition for curing meat (though Hermes’ meat has been roasted).
194 oliver thomas
identifiable at verses 415–16.47 The ashes could therefore be taken as the
foundations of an ash altar expanded later by human worshippers.
The Hymn to Hermes locates all three features by the Alpheus (101, 139)
in the region of Pylos (398; cf. 216, 342, 355). This specificity, and the aitia’s
rather forced inclusion, strongly suggest that they were to be identifiable
for the audience. And in general, the local precision of ritual aitia is crucial
to their ability to forge a ‘wormhole’ between the audience-community
and the actions of gods in the legendary past, and thus to their socio-
cultural value.48
Hermes’ sacrifice-like actions cannot have a full causal relationship to
the ritual(s) evoked, since he must hide them. However, there are several
reasons to think that their relationship to ritual is importantly affine to
aetiology. The poet specifically chose this episode from many possible
means to work in the topographical aetiologies, which prompts us to
seek a concerted function. Such a function would further focus the inter-
pretative lens provided by Prometheus’ (aetiological) ox-division, and give
fuller force to the ritual connotations of κατὰ χρέος and ὁσίη.49 Sacrificial
rites are standard territory for aetiological myth, since they are benefited by
antique and venerable precursors in obvious ways; Hermes’ divinity makes
him particularly apt to offer such legitimation. A precursor-relationship is
also suggested by the passage’s preview of Hermes’ patronage of κήρυκες at
sacrifices, and by the interpretation that his carving symbolizes his future
equal status with other gods. Finally, the longer Homeric Hymns, like the
aetiologies in which they abound, offered a shortcut through space-time by
which the god became virtually present to the audience at the religious
festivals where they were most likely performed.50
Given these considerations about the poetic efficacy of evoking specific
ritual(s) for which the audience find a precursor in Hermes’ actions,
47
πῦρ ἀμάρυσσον (Lohsee: ἀμαρύσσων Ω) | ἐγκρύψαι μεμαώς. Lohsee’s emendation recovers the
precise idiom ἐγκρύπτω πῦρ ‘I cover a fire within ashes’ (e.g. Od. 5.488–91, Ar. Av. 841, Arist. Juv.
470a12).
48
See e.g. Kowalzig (2007: 24–32). The politicized, manipulable quality of aitia is a further reason not
to assume – as Burkert (1984) assumed in our case – that they straightforwardly reflect ritual
wherever possible. Johnston (2002: 111) aptly says that Hom. Hymn Herm.’s myth ‘rephrases’ ritual;
cf. Furley (1981: 41–6).
49
Compare Hom. Hymn Dem. 211: Demeter takes the kykeon rather than wine ὁσίης ἕνεκεν – primarily
because it is not ὁσίη for mourners to drink wine, but also ‘for the sake of (a future instance of) ὁσίη’,
namely the performance of the ritual drinking of the kykeon by Eleusinian initiates, for which
Demeter’s action is the aition. Very similar is Eur. IT 1461 ὁσίας ἑκάτι in another aition.
50
The ‘shortcut’ is created not only by aitia, but also by the vividness of the narrative and the deixis of
the closing χαῖρε-formula (e.g. Hom. Hymn Herm. 579); it is related to the desire of many lyric
hymns to induce an actual epiphany. For the communis opinio that the Homeric Hymns were for
performance at festivals, see e.g. Càssola (1975: xiii–xvi).
 Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41 195
I suggest the following position: the poet evoked a contemporary cult of
a Dodecatheon including Hermes, which was of significance to the audi-
ence; Hermes’ actions are not just similar to this cult, but are a precursor of
it, performed in the same place, and leaving debris which becomes part of
the sanctuary; this was in the Western Peloponnese by the Alpheus, some
indoor correlate for rocks ‘piled up’ or ‘suspended’, a rock which could be
interpreted as being covered in a petrified skin, and perhaps an ash altar;
the cult would involve the sacrifice of two cows and perhaps distribution of
portions by ballot. Other elements in the narrative may be overdetermined,
and belong both to the cult evoked and to the narrative flow. For example,
it is merely possible that two cows were butchered into twelve equal
divine portions with γέρα which were deposed on an offering-table before
the remainder was divided among humans, the head and feet being burnt.51
A less streamlined, fallback hypothesis is that the evocations are all
relevant to the audience, but relate to different sanctuaries in one vicinity.

The Performance of the Hymn to Hermes

Ours is the only passage in the Hymn to Hermes that is so strikingly designed
around local knowledge.52 This suggests that the location of Hermes’ actions
is the location of the Hymn’s first performance. The Hymn does not need to
and does not name this location, since Hermes must act in a secretive place,
not yet populous enough for a name. The topographical information can be
summarized by verse 398:
ἐς Πύλον ἠμαθόεντα ἐπ’ Ἀλφειοῦ πόρον ἷξον.
They reached sandy Pylos and the πόρος of
Alpheus.
This is related to known hexameter formulas whose referent is Thryon /
Thryoessa:
οἳ δὲ Πύλον τ’ ἐνέμοντο καὶ Ἀρήνην ἐρατεινήν
καὶ Θρύον Ἀλφειοῖο πόρον
As for those who inhabited Pylos and lovely Arene
and Thryon, the ford of the Alpheus . . .

51
The twelve gods receive a procession, music, and τραπεζώματα in LSAM 32 (Magnesia on the
Meander, 197/6). Their cult in other places is known only patchily: Long (1987).
52
Admittedly, Hom. Hymn Herm. 552–66 does describe an oracle near Delphi in a deliberately riddling
manner, where I believe the audience need some awareness of the Thriai and Corycian cave if they
are to see the full complexity of Apollo’s riddle. It is impossible to estimate how widespread such
knowledge was at the period.
196 oliver thomas
ἔστι δέ τις Θρυόεσσα πόλις, αἰπεῖα κολώνη,
τηλοῦ ἐπ’ Ἀλφειῶι, νεάτη Πύλου ἠμαθόεντος
There is a state called Thryoessa, a steep hill, far
away on the Alpheus, on the edge of Sandy
Pylos.
καὶ Θρύον Ἀλφειοῖο πόρον . . .
καὶ Πύλον ἠμαθόεντα
. . . and Thryon, the ford of the Alpheus . . .
and sandy Pylos.53
However, verbal similarities do not entail that the Hymn to Hermes also refers
to Thryon. The Alpheus must have had other fords including one for visitors
to Olympia, and in any case πόρος can also mean ‘course’, as at Pindar
Olympian 1.92 Ἀλφεοῦ πόρωι, 10.48 πόρον Ἀλφεοῦ ‘the river Alpheus’.54
As the passages about Thryon suggest, Greeks of the period envisaged a large
ancient region called ‘Pylos’ with the Alpheus near its border.55
In sum, the description of Hom. Hymn Herm. 398 could signify a long
stretch of the banks of the lower Alpheus. However, only one Dodecatheon
is known in this area, namely at Olympia, and this fits remarkably well
with several other features of the Hymn.
Firstly, Hermes and Apollo, the two main characters whose attainment
of friendship is traced in the Hymn, shared one of the six altars of the
Dodecatheon at Olympia (Herodorus FGrH 31 F 34a). Secondly, Classical
βουθυσίαι are known for the cult: Psaumis conducts conspicuous ones
during the Games at Pindar(?), Ol. 5.5.56 Thirdly, Hermes was highly
regarded at Olympia, as a patron of κήρυκες at the Games, and for his
agonistic, palaestral side.57 It is precisely in our passage that the Hymn
alludes to those functions: the way Hermes casts down the cows (118) puts
us in mind of a champion boy wrestler. The Games are separately related to

53
Il. 2.591–2, 11.711–12, Hom. Hymn Ap. 423–4. Thryon’s location is unclear. Strabo and Demetrius
were probably guessing when they equated it with Epitalion; Makrysia is an alternative possibility.
See Hope Simpson and Lazenby (1970: 83), LfgrE II 1066, Visser (1997: 511–12). Leduc (2005: 151)
thinks that Hermes’ actions must be at Epitalion.
54
I have not found archaeological consensus on where visitors to Olympia crossed the Alpheus.
Pritchett (1980: 267) assumes a ford near the sanctuary.
55
Fortunately we need not discuss the confusion between Messenian, Triphylian, and Elean Pylos: see
LfgrE s.v. Πύλος, Frame (2006). The issue would, however, become important for a political analysis
of Hom. Hymn Herm. based on my results.
56
Paus. 5.15.10 is the only source for regular sacrifices for the Dodecatheon at Olympia. These are ‘old-
fashioned’ but not necessarily old. They do not involve animal sacrifices.
57
See e.g. Pind. Ol. 6.79 ‘Hermes . . . who presides over the Games and shares in the prizes’. For the
sacrificial duties of Elean heralds at 5th-century Olympia, see Pollux 4.91–2.
 Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41 197
the Dodecatheon, in so far as Pindar could imagine them as parts of the
same foundation in Olympian 10.
Fourthly, the aetiologies are compatible with the landscape at Olympia.
Those of the hides petrified on a rock, and of the probable pile of petrified
meat, were versatile and interpretable there as at most places. If Hermes left
ashes visible for aetiological reasons, Olympia had the most famous ash
altar of the Greek world. The hymn also refers to a ‘cave’ (401) in the
landscape, and while the geology around Olympia is poor in caves, there
were artificial grottoes in the sanctuary, most notably the ‘Idaean cave’
which was associated with Cronus and Rhea, who were one of the divine
pairs in the Dodecatheon.58
We might expect the Hymn to Hermes to engage with the aition for the
Dodecatheon and ash altar at Olympia transmitted by Pindar, namely that
Heracles founded them.59 There are indeed noteworthy hints of this. Just
before our passage, Hermes is called Διὸς ἄλκιμος υἱός (101): this is
a formula for Heracles, here used instead of the more normal Κυλλήνιος
Ἑρμῆς, κρατὺς Ἀργεϊφόντης, or Διὸς ἀγλαὸς υἱός.60 Heracles’ institutions
at Olympia were placed after his recovery of cows from Augeas by Pindar
and after the Cretan bull by Diodorus 4.13.4–14.1 – both bovine-capturing
exploits. Hermes’ impressive strength in wrestling two cows to the floor
(118) may allude playfully to cults of Heracles where ephebes had to imitate
him by lifting up the sacrificial cow.61
A separate line of argument also suggests Olympia during the Games as
a promising context for the Hymn to Hermes. That such a long and
virtuosic hymn was composed at all implies a centre with the repute and/
or cash to attract rhapsodes of interstate calibre. Such a centre would also
increase the likelihood of the hymn being disseminated and saved for
posterity.62 Of the possible locations along the fifth-century Alpheus,
58
For the Idaean cave see Pind.(?) Ol. 5.18 + schol. 42a, and Weniger (1907: 155–62) versus Hampe
(1951: 336–40). Settlers at Olympia apparently imported to Cronus’ Hill the Cretan story that
Curetes nurtured Zeus in a cave unbeknownst to Cronus. On other artificial grottoes at Olympia,
see Elderkin (1941: 132–5).
59
Ol. 6.67–70, 10.43–9, 57–60. Burkert thought Hom. Hymn Herm. could be ‘either a rival tradition or
a playful preview’ of Heracles’ sacrifices at Olympia (1984: 840 n. 33): the latter is more accurate,
since Hermes is not precisely founding anything. Paus. 5.13.8 cites the Curete Heracles or ‘local
heroes’ as alternative founders. On the politics of such alternatives, Ulf (1997).
60
Διὸς ἄλκιμος υἱός applies to Heracles three times in the Hesiodic corpus, and is borrowed by Pind.
Ol. 10.44–5, Theoc(?) Id. 25.42.
61
See Theophr. Char. 27.5 with Diggle (2004). Hom. Hymn Herm. may also have fashioned its myth
after Heracles’ abduction of Geryon’s cattle. The arguments are beyond my scope here: see Davies
(2006), Thomas (2009: 250–1).
62
Hom. Hymn Herm. had reached Athens by the time of Soph. Ichneutai: see Pearson (1917: i 228),
Vergados (2013:79–86).
198 oliver thomas
Olympia is the most likely. No other figures at all in our patchy record of
archaic and Classical Greek music. Several sources mention musical per-
formances on the periphery of the Games, besides epinicia and theoric
choruses. In the early fourth century Dionysius I of Syracuse employed
rhapsodes to perform his own poetry. A rhapsode of uncertain date called
Cleomenes performed Empedocles’ Katharmoi. Dio Chrysostom’s por-
trayal of the non-athletic visitors includes ‘many poets singing their
poems, and others praising them’, and it would be excessively cautious
not to assume this situation for the fifth century too.63
In the preceding section I posited a significant relationship between
Hermes’ actions and a sacrifice to a Dodecatheon known to the Hymn’s
audience, with possible references to further cults in the vicinity. The only
known Dodecatheon that fits the poem’s geography was at Olympia. This
performance context – perhaps specifically during the Games – also fits
well with various independent considerations. To my mind, the theory
that the Hymn to Hermes was composed for performance at Olympia
therefore carries a high degree of coherence and conviction.
*
This conclusion about the performance-context of the Hymn to Hermes
will not be of equal interest to all readers. However, I hope that my
methodology, together with the worked example, will help scholars of
both more literary and more historical persuasions to think about how to
interpret literary sources for Greek religion sensitively. Several interlocking
factors influence literary compositions with a relationship to sacrifice, and
the desire to describe a rite to future scholars was never a high priority.
Therefore, no single interpretative ‘key’ is likely to tell the whole story. Our
hymnist chose to mould a myth which – so far as we know – had been
unrelated to Olympia, so as to include aetiologies for certain topographical
features of the sanctuary, and evocations of a sacrificial ritual performed
there. The surrounding narrative imposes specific logical constraints and
competing literary goals, which play a larger part in shaping Hermes’
actions than has generally been admitted. Furthermore, the references to
future cult are encoded according to generic norms which allow for

63
Dionysius: Diod. Sic. 14.109 ‘He also sent the best rhapsodes, so that by presenting his poems during
the panegyris they might bring Dionysius repute . . . When the rhapsodes undertook to present
Dionysius’ poems, at first the crowds ran up because of the quality of the performers’ voices, and all
were impressed. But afterwards they reconsidered the weakness of the poems and ridiculed
Dionysius.’ Cleomenes: Dicaearchus fr. 87. Dio Chrys. 8.9. According to Pl. Hp. mi. 368c,
Hippias brought to Olympia hexameter (and other) poems which he had written; performance is
not stated explicitly. See in general Weiler (1997).
 Sacrifice and the Homeric Hymn to Hermes 112–41 199
selectivity in descriptions of sacrifice. One of the poet’s main purposes was
probably to forge a connection between the two audiences – human and
divine – of his hymn. But the episode also gives a preview of Hermes’
‘kerykal’ and palaestral functions, and characterizes him: his actions turn
innately towards the sacred; he is like and unlike Prometheus; he seeks full
Olympian status; his strength and cunning are praised.64 Only with an
analysis sensitive to this range of motives can we learn something both
about a sacrifice at Olympia, and about the Hymn’s mode of engagement
with its audience.

64
Cf. Apollo’s impressed responses at 405–8, 436.
 chapter 8

Visualising Veneration: Images of Animal Sacrifice

on Greek Votive Reliefs
Anja Klöckner

At first glance, images of animal sacrifice do not seem very helpful for the
study of Greek religion. The images, mainly vase-paintings and votive reliefs
from the late archaic and Classical period,1 are often generic, composed of
stock motifs. This is especially true of the depictions of the animals. Sheep,
cattle and pigs are often rendered rather schematically. In this respect, the
visual evidence forms a marked contrast to the osteological and epigraphic
evidence, which can – at least sometimes – give precise information on the
species, sex, age or even colour of the sacrificial victims. And whereas
inscriptions may set out clear regulations about which animal is to be offered
to which deity, the correlation between sacrificial victims and divine reci-
pients in the images is much looser. In this respect and others, visual art is
a problematic source of information on ancient cult practice.
As I am here presenting a study of images of animal sacrifice, this may be a
rather frustrating starting point. However, if we shift our focus, the images
can provide insight into the contemporary ancient discourse on animal
sacrifice from a fresh perspective. In this chapter I do not attempt to use
images to reconstruct ritual performance, but will instead analyse the specific
references to animal sacrifice in visual media and the function of sacrificial
representations in religious communication.
There is no shortage of relevant iconographical data. In this chapter I
will concentrate on the Classical reliefs, not only because the vase-paintings
have already been discussed intensively, but because this particular class of
material has a distinctive communicative role in a religious context. Greek
votive reliefs are an important, but still not exhausted, source of

I am very grateful to Sarah Hitch and Ian Rutherford for inviting me to contribute a chapter to this
volume. I would also like to express my deep gratitude to Bernd Hoffmann for his kind advice on the
physiology of animals.
1
Hausmann (1948:71–6); van Straten (1995); Himmelmann (1997); Berger (1998); Edelmann (1999);
Laxander (2000:7–55, 159–78); Gebauer (2002); van Straten (2005); Blok (2009).

200
 Visualising Veneration 201
information on Greek religion in general and on animal sacrifice in
particular. Large quantities of them were dedicated, primarily in Attica.
Many of these marble slabs show worshippers visiting gods and heroes in
their sanctuaries: individuals, couples, groups and families demonstrate
their devotion and present offerings, mostly sacrificial victims. Whereas
vases featured in a large variety of functions in the mundane and festive,
sacral and profane life of ancient Greece, the primary function of votive
reliefs is always the same. Vases could be used, for example, at symposia as
well as for funerals or as donations in sanctuaries; votive reliefs, in contrast,
were always gifts for the gods.
In cases where the original context is lost, we know very little about the
buyers, owners or recipients of the vases and how they may have used
the objects. In contrast to this, we can reconstruct the original context of
the stelai, even when nothing has been recorded about it: all of them were
offered either by a single person or by a group of votaries to a deity or hero,
often to discharge vows. The images of animal sacrifice on vases can refer to
rituals performed by the polis as well as by individuals, even in mythological
settings. In contrast, votive reliefs were all used in rituals performed by
particular worshippers, most of them not acting in their capacity as
members of subgroups of the polis, but instead in the context of private
sacrifices.2 The reliefs are not only images of ritual: they are objects of ritual
as well.

Images of Animal Sacrifice on Greek Votive Reliefs:

Some Characteristics
The images of animal sacrifice on Greek votive reliefs from the late fifth
and the fourth centuries bc have been described and analysed by Folkert
van Straten and Martina Edelmann.3 Both have pointed out that the actual
killing of the animal, strikingly under-represented in Greek art as a whole,
is almost entirely missing on votive reliefs. Only one relief from Larymna
shows the killing of a ram, but it has not been conclusively demonstrated to
be a votive, and the interpretation of the image is a matter of debate.4
Images of the post-kill phase are extremely rare, too. There is again only
one relief, an early Hellenistic votive from the Athenian sanctuary of
Pancrates (Fig. 8.1), that certainly refers to this stage of the ritual.

2
Cf. van Straten (1995:60); van Straten (2005:27).
3
van Straten (1995:58–100); Edelmann (1999:144–54).
4
Chalkis, AM 7: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 225 fig. 109; Schild-Xenidou (2005).
202 anj a kl öckner

Fig. 8.1. Votive relief to Pancrates, from the sanctuary of Pancrates in Athens (early
Hellenistic). Athens, Fethiye Camii P 68 A: Deutsches Archäologisches Institut
Abteilung Athen, Inst. Neg. Athen 1993/1213.

It shows a group of worshippers gathering about a round altar, where meat

on two spits is being roasted over a grate.5 This relief, however, is not only
later than most of the other votives in question, but is also singular in its
composition. Another early Hellenistic relief, found in Rhamnous, is more
conventional. Here something is depicted on the altar that could be inter-
preted as sacrificial meat, although it cannot be determined unequivocally.6
Apart from these exceptional pieces, the majority of reliefs under discussion
do not show the kill, the handling of the slaughtered animal nor any other
preparation for the sacrificial meal. They depict an earlier phase, in which the
animal is still alive.
A votive from the Asclepieum of Athens may serve as a typical example
for such a pre-kill setting (Fig. 8.2).7 Even though the left side and the
upper right edge are missing, the main elements of the image are clearly
recognisable. It belongs to the most popular group of votive reliefs, the so-
called adoration reliefs: humans appear before gods, in this case Asclepius

5
Athens, Fethiye Camii P 68 A: Vikela (1994), cat. no. S 1 pl. 32.
6
Rhamnous, AM 102: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 47.
7
Athens, NM 1333: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 8 fig. 59.
(a) (b)

Fig. 8.2. (a) Votive relief to Asclepius and Hygieia, from the Asclepieum in Athens (second half of the
fourth century bc). Athens, NM 1333: Deutsches Archäologisches Institut Abteilung Athen, Inst. Neg. Athen NM 6246
(photographer: Gösta Hellner); (b) Detail of fig. 8.2a.
204 anj a kl öckner
and Hygieia; they worship them through gestures and present offerings.
An altar marks the border between gods and humans and serves as their
meeting point as well. The sacrificial victim, a sheep, is led to the altar by
a small male. He wears an exomis and holds a flat basket in his left hand,
which, according to van Straten, can be identified as the kanoun.8 His small
size and his beardlessness are not to be read as indications of age but only of
his social status: he is a servant, not a child.9 The servant is followed by the
worshippers, all of whom are wearing appropriate dress and the adults, at
least, have their right hand raised in adoration.10 The final position in this
small procession is occupied by a female carrying a large cylindrical basket
on her head. This kiste was used as a container for transportation. It is
always shown closed, sometimes covered with a cloth, so that the contents
are not visible. Following ancient sources, we can safely assume that the
basket was meant to include implements, offerings and food needed for the
performance of ritual.11
The same set of figures and motifs is used on a votive to Zeus Meilichios
from the Piraeus (Fig. 8.3). Again, a male servant with a kanoun is leading
an animal, a rather meaty pig, to the altar and the group of worshippers is
accompanied by a woman carrying a kiste. Modest votives like this and
high-quality works like the stele from the Asclepieum (Fig. 8.2) both draw
on the same pool of pictorial patterns, even if the stonemasons have
executed them with varying levels of skill.
While the general structure of the images is always the same (gods and
heroes on one side, worshippers on the other, turning towards them), the
combination and choice of the iconographical elements can differ. Not
every votive that refers to animal sacrifice uses all the motifs: some may be
left out, others are indispensable. At least one deity, one worshipper and
the sacrificial victim are obligatory.
At first sight, the altar seems to be a standard element of the images, but
this is not the case. The altar is a frequent, but not necessary, element in
images of animal sacrifice. On about one-third of all complete votive reliefs
with worshippers, an altar is depicted between the deities and the mortals.

8
On the kanoun in images of animal sacrifice cf. van Straten (1995:162–4); ThesCRA V (2005:269–74)
s. v. Kanoun.
9
van Straten (1995:60–1, 65–7, 168–80); Edelmann (1999:144–5 (names the attendants as boys)).
According to Vikela, the attendant on a votive relief from the sanctuary of Pancrates (Athens,
Fethiye Camii P 27 B) wears a beard: Vikela (1994), 46–7 cat. no. F 2 pl. 28, 2.
10
On the different habitus of the worshippers, according to gender and age, cf. Klöckner (2002);
Klöckner (2006).
11
On the kiste as ritual implement cf. ThesCRA V (2005), 274–8 s. v. Kiste, cista. On the maid carrying
the kiste on votive reliefs, see van Straten (1995:60–1, 169); Edelmann (1999:149).
(a) (b)

Fig. 8.3. (a) Votive relief to Zeus Meilichios, from the Piraeus (late fourth century bc). Piraeus, AM Pir 3: Deutsches
Archäologisches Institut Abteilung Piräus 12; (b) Detail of fig. 8.3a.
206 anj a kl öckner
However, not all of these reliefs show a sacrificial victim and, conversely,
not every relief with a sacrificial victim shows an altar.12 The iconographical
elements ‘sacrificial animal’ and ‘altar’ are used independently of each
other. The focus of the sacrificial ritual (the altar) and the object of the
ritual (the victim) are not necessarily linked together. In this respect, the
votive reliefs once more differ significantly from the vases, where the altar is
an iconographical element of central importance.13 The presentation of the
sacrificial victims and the depiction of the altar both refer to ritual in
general, but also to specific aspects of it. The image of an animal char-
acterises the gift offered, while the altar as the focus of the cultic action
alludes to the ritual performance.
As regards the personnel, the male servant is shown quite often, whereas
the woman with the basket is depicted less frequently.14 While the leading
of the animal is substantial for the ritual performance, the kiste is a useful
but not essential item in this context. The sequence of the iconographical
elements is not random, but follows fixed rules,15 as does the order of the
worshippers. The grades of rank in the procession, according to gender and
age, are usually made unmistakably clear by the position of the partici-
pants: men walk ahead of women, children stand behind adults or, in lower
relief, at their side. Social and situational status, however, do not always
coincide. The stonemasons dealt with this problem by reversing the con-
ventional sequence and placing a particular woman or child at the head of
the procession, to stress that person’s special status on the votive.
The woman carrying the kiste is always placed at the rear of the procession
(Fig. 8.2) or, sculpted in lower relief, in the background (Fig. 8.3). This
indicates that her rank is lower than that of the other participants; she
seems to be a servant rather than a member of the family, even though she
is not characterised by typical servant’s dress like the maids on grave
reliefs.16 In the case of the male servant, his position at the front of the
procession is determined only by the importance of his action.17 Because

12
Cf. e. g. Athens, NM 3952: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 90 fig. 93 (erroneously cited as EM 3942).
Athens, NM 1532: ibid. cat. no. R 137 fig. 106. Patras, AM: ibid. cat. no. R 113 fig. 99. Even if the altar
was originally indicated in paint, it surely had no prominent place in these images.
13
van Straten (1995:165–7); Gebauer (2002:515–24).
14
Edelmann (1999:146). For votive reliefs with male servant and the maid carrying the kiste see e. g.
Athens, NM 1333 van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 8 fig. 59 (fig. 8.2). Piraeus, AM 3 ibid. cat. no. R 44 fig.
75 (fig. 8.3). For votive reliefs with male servant, but without the maid, see e. g. Athens, NM 1407:
ibid. cat. no. R 27 fig. 61. Paris, Louvre 755: ibid. cat. no. R 23 fig. 63.
15
Contra Edelmann (1999:144). 16 Contra Edelmann (1999:146).
17
Normally, the servant is depicted in front of the worshippers. For examples, cf. Edelmann (1999:144
n. 904). Less frequently, the servant is depicted between or beside the worshippers (ibid. n.905) or
even behind them (ibid. n. 906).
 Visualising Veneration 207
the presentation of the animal has to take place at the altar in front of the
deities, the person guiding the animal has to fulfil an important task,
although he is not significant in himself.
Status is also clearly indicated by different grades of visibility. Not only
the figures’ position in the procession can indicate their importance, but
also the space they occupy. This is again especially evident in the case of
the servants. On some votives the male servant is hidden behind the altar,
the animal or other worshippers.18 He can then only be identified by the
kanoun in his hand, which seems to be more important to the depiction
than the person holding it. The same is true of the maid carrying the
basket. The kiste, often of enormous size, is always clearly visible, while its
bearer is sometimes hardly discernible.19
As already mentioned, the votive reliefs commemorate private sacrifices;
they do not refer to public festivals like many of the vases. This connection
to the oikos may explain the main differences in iconography. On many
vases the processions include musicians, but they are not present on the
votive reliefs.20 The kanephoros, a young woman carrying the kanoun at the
head of the pompe, is a typical element of vase-paintings, but we know only
one example of a kanephoros on a votive relief.21 To be a kanephoros was
a prestigious duty for well-born girls and women at official festivals of the
polis, but evidently the donors of the votive reliefs chose not to refer to it on
their offerings. Conversely, the maid carrying the kiste on the votive reliefs
is never seen on vases, because the motif was not significant in the
iconography of public festivals.22

The Sacrificial Victims

After discussing the participants in the sacrificial procession, we should
now turn to the key element of the ritual action: the animals. As we have
already seen, the victims, together with the servant leading them, usually
occupy the first position in the procession, opposite the deities and in front
of the worshippers. In exceptional cases, where the contact between the
deity and the worshippers is characterised as particularly close, they move
18
Cf. e. g. a votive relief from Epidaurus, whereabouts unknown: Dentzer (1982), cat. no. R 422 fig.
644; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 33 fig. 58. Mytilene, AM 221: ibid. cat. no. R 157.
19
Edelmann (1999:146) with note 918. Cf. also Athens, NM 1513: Dentzer (1982), cat. no. R 392 fig. 623;
van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 193.
20
There are only few exceptions. Cf. Olbia (?): van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 114. Frgt. from the art
market (votive? antique?): Edelmann (1999, 45 n. 217; 243), cat. no. U 137.
21
Olbia (?): see above. On kanephoroi van Straten (1995:14–24); Gebauer (2002:169–71).
22
van Straten (1995:60); Edelmann (1999:146).
208 anj a kl öckner
further back, so that they do not disrupt the face-to-face encounter. This is
the case, for example, on the votives depicting kneeling prayer, a typically
female form of communication with the god.23
On some reliefs, the size of the animals is exaggerated in comparison to that
of the worshippers. A votive to Heracles found near the River Ilissus can be
taken as an example.24 Here, a huge bull is placed in the middle of the slab.
It takes up more space than the depiction of the worshippers or of Heracles.
Because of the enormous size of the animal, even the servant leading it is much
larger than usual. In this way the donor of the votive could stress both the value
of his gift and his own generosity. However, this is the exception to the rule.
In most cases the desire to enhance the offering visually is not so blatant.
The majority of the votives show the animals in more or less realistic propor-
tions relative to the worshippers – if anything, too small rather than too large.25
Their position is not as prominent as on the relief to Heracles, but in many
cases they are depicted with no overlapping.26 Often enough, however, they
are only partly visible. Again, the reliefs to Asclepius and to Zeus Meilichios
mentioned above can be taken as examples (Figs. 8.2–8.3). Here we see the
sacrificial victims in front of the altar, but their hind legs are hidden behind the
first worshipper. The species of the animals (a sheep and a pig) is nevertheless
clearly identifiable. Even on crowded reliefs with a large number of figures,
the head, at least, of the animal is crammed in. On some examples, this makes
it difficult to spot the animal at first glance, even if we take into account that
the image originally may have been coloured.27 A quite inventive solution
was found by the sculptor of a votive to Athena with an extremely large
procession, composed of at least eight males.28 The craftsman altered the
iconographical conventions and depicted the head of the sacrificial victim
directed not towards, but away from the deity – simply to make it more
visible in the narrow gap between the first worshipper and the altar. Evidently
it was important to show the sacrificial animal, but only to a certain degree.
In most cases, it is not the main iconographical element in the image, but
merely one among others. If the others occupy too much space, the animal is
only represented partially; just enough to recognise its species.

23
On kneeling worshippers, van Straten (1974); Klöckner (2006:146–9).
24
Athens, NM 3952: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 90 fig. 93 (erroneously cited as EM 3942). Cf. e. g.
Athens, Fethiye Camii P 5 A: Vikela (1994), cat. no. F 10 pl. 31, 1 (large bull). Delos AM A 412:
Marcadé (1973:362 fig. 39); van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 153 (large ram).
25
On the considerations by which the size of the animals is dictated, van Straten (1995:170).
26
Cf. e.g. Athens, NM 1407: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 27 fig. 61 (sheep). Athens, Fethiye Camii
P 56 B: Vikela (1994), cat. no. A 4 pl. 4.
27
Cf. e. g. Athens, NM 1402: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 19 fig. 66.
28
Athens, Acropolis Museum 3007: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 60 fig. 80.
 Visualising Veneration 209
Species, Age and Sex of the Sacrificial Victims
Concerning the species, age and sex of the sacrificial victims on the votive
reliefs, we should bear in mind that we are, for the moment, addressing
only iconography. Whether and to what extent the images stand for
animals which had been sacrificed in reality will be discussed later.
Usually, only one animal is shown on each votive relief. Examples with
two or more animals, whether of the same or of a different species, are
rare.29 As regards the ratio of species depicted, pigs are most popular,
followed closely by sheep. Cattle are much rarer, but still more frequent
than goats. Other animals like fish or deer are shown only exceptionally.30

29
Two sheep: Delphi, AM 1202: van Straten (1995), 76, 288 cat. no. R 56.
Three sheep: Malibu, The J. Paul Getty Museum 78.AA.264: LIMC VIII (1997:13), no. 60* s.v.
Thetis (Rainer Vollkommer).
Pig and sheep: Piraeus, AM 33: LIMC IV (1988, p. 804 no. 1390*), s. v. Herakles (John Boardman);
van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 91. Athens, NM 1532: ibid., cat. no. R 137 fig. 106. Athens, NM 1395:
ibid., pp. 73, 283–4, cat. no. R 37 fig. 72.
Bovine and sheep: Athens, NM 1404: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 92 fig. 94. Whereabouts
unknown, from Laconia: ibid. cat. no. R 104 (‘bov. and sheep (?)’).
Bovine, sheep (?) and goat: Athens, NM 2390: Svoronos (1908–37), III, 636 no. 357 pl. 140, 5; van
Straten (1995), cat. no. R 43 (‘bov. and two goats’).
Cf. also Delphi, AM 1101 + 3815 + 8874: Zagdoun (1977:32–40), nos. 8–9 figs. 21–4 (behind the
legs of the sheep a hind leg of another animal can be discerned); van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 77.
30
Because of the restricted place only complete reliefs, but no fragments, are cited in the following list.
Pigs: Athens, Fethiye Camii P 48 B: Vikela (1994), cat. no. A 11 pl. 9. Athens, Fethiye Camii P 53 B:
ibid., cat. no. A 9 pl. 6, 3. Athens, Fethiye Camii P 56 B: ibid., cat. no. A 4 pl. 4. Athens, Fethiye
Camii P 81 A: ibid., cat. no. B 6 pl. 20, 1. Athens, NM 1334: (fig. 8.5) van Straten (1995), cat. no.
R 9 fig. 64. Athens, NM 1377: ibid., cat. no. R 18 fig. 67. Athens, NM 1402: ibid., cat. no. R 19 fig.
66. Athens, NM 1516: Dentzer (1982), cat. no. R 394 fig. 625; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 130.
Athens, NM 1532: ibid., cat. no. R 137 fig. 106. Athens, NM 1538: Dentzer (1982), cat. no. R 402
fig. 632; van Straten (1995:307), cat. no. R 131. Athens, NM 1539: Svoronos (1908–37), III,
pp. 570–1 no. 217 pl. 93, 1; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 168. Athens, NM 3608: ibid., cat. no.
R 68 fig. 82. Athens, NM 3873: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 126 fig. 103. Delos, AM A 7724:
Siebert (1988), 765 fig. 33. 36; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 81. Istanbul AM 70: Dentzer (1982),
cat. no. R 295 fig. 547; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 160. London, BM 713: Dentzer (1982), cat.
no. R 490 fig. 711; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 176. Malesina: LIMC VI (1992, p. 1040 no. 282*),
s. v. Heros Equitans (Aleksandrina Cermanovic-Kuzmanovic et al.); van Straten (1995), cat. no.
R 105. Mantua, Palazzo Ducale 6684: ibid., cat. no. R 181; Rausa (2000:46–9), cat. no. 6 with
colour plate. Paris, Louvre Ma 752: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 67 fig. 81. Paris, Louvre Ma 2416
(MNC 1834): Hamiaux (1992), cat. no. 239 with fig.; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 185. Paris,
Louvre Ma 2417: Hamiaux (1992), cat. no. 303 with fig.; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 138. Patras,
AM 208: ibid., cat. no. R 34 pl. 71. Piraeus, AM Pir 3 (fig. 8.3): van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 44 pl.
75. Sicyon, AM 345: Dentzer (1982), cat. no. R 259 fig. 511; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 141.
Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum I 1083: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 112 (‘sheep?’). From the
Asclepieum (?) in Piraeus, whereabouts unknown: ibid., cat. no. R 30 fig. 68. From Piraeus,
whereabouts unknown: Dentzer (1982), cat. no. R 229 fig. 484; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 132.
Found near Epidauros, whereabouts unknown: ibid., cat. no. R 33 fig. 58. Art market: Dentzer
(1982), cat. no. R 244 fig. 497; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 135.
210 anj a kl öckner
Folkert van Straten has analysed the relative frequency of various species
of sacrificial animals, not only on votive reliefs but also on vase-paintings
and in inscribed sacrificial calendars.31 As regards the three most common
types – cattle, sheep and pigs – the three classes of material display very
different patterns. In sacrificial calendars there is a significant peak in the
number of sheep, while on vase-paintings cattle are clearly dominant.
As van Straten convincingly argued, this striking difference is because of
the peculiarities of each class of evidence. He connected the choice of
sacrificial animals with their price. While in classical Athens, cattle were 40
to 90 drachmai a head, adult sheep cost from 10 to 17 drachmai and adult
pigs ranged from 20 to 40 drachmai.32 Vase-paintings refer mainly to
festive occasions with a large and costly sacrifice, and therefore tend to
show cattle, the most expensive animals. The epigraphic evidence relates to
communal sacrifices of an intermediate level, which explains the dom-
inance of the comparatively inexpensive sheep and, to a lesser degree, pigs.

Sheep: Athens, Goulandris Museum 58: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 187. Athens, NM 1407: ibid.,
cat. no. R 27 fig. 61. Athens, NM 1408: ibid., cat. no. R 45 fig. 76. Athens, NM 1532: ibid., cat. no.
R 137 fig. 106. Copenhagen, Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek 1594: Moltesen (1995:147), cat. no. 79 (with
fig.). Corfu, AM 170: Dentzer (1982), cat. no. R 333 fig. 576; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 148.
Delos, AM A 3201: Dentzer (1982), cat. no. R 277 fig. 528; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 154
(hellenistic). Istanbul, AM 407: ibid., cat. no. 149 fig. 107. Mariemont B 149: Dentzer (1982), cat.
no. R 475 fig. 696; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 182. Naples, NM 126174: Kraus and von Matt
(1973:193), cat. no. 266 with fig.; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 69. Patras, AM: ibid., cat. no. R 113
fig. 99. Verona, Museo Maffeiano 564: Ritti (1981:54–5), cat. no. 21 with fig.; van Straten (1995),
cat. no. R 186. Vicenza, Museo Civico EI-54: Galliazzo (1976:42–5), cat. no. 9 with fig.; van
Straten (1995), cat. no. R 54. Private collection (Sir Charles Nicholson): ibid., cat. no. R 111 fig.
100. From Amorgos: ibid., cat. no. R 109 fig. 101 (hellenistic). From Erythrai, whereabouts
unknown: Engelmann and Merkelbach (1973:425), cat. no. 349 with drawing; van Straten (1995),
cat. no. R 165 (hellenistic).
Cattle: The votive reliefs with cattle are listed in Klöckner (2006:142 n. 16).
Goats: Brauron, AM 1153: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 75 fig. 87. Delos, AM A 3153: ibid., cat. no.
R 78 fig. 89. Paris, Louvre Ma 756: ibid., cat. no. R 71 fig. 85.
Fish: Athens, Fethiye Camii P 7 A: Vikela (1994), cat. no. A 17 pl. 15, 1.
In the case of deer it is debatable whether the animal is meant as sacrificial victim or as attribute of
the deities: Vierneisel and Scholl (2002:12, 35). Cf. Athens, NM 1950: van Straten (1995), cat. no.
R 76; Kaltsas (2002:142), cat. no. 273 with fig. (deer and bird). Munich, Glyptothek 552: Vierneisel
and Scholl (2002). Whereabouts unknown, from Thessaly: Stengel (1910:200) (buck and deer).
The animal on a votive relief in Brindisi may be a deer too: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 82 (‘sheep,
goat or deer?’).
According to Edelmann (1999:148, 195), cat. no. B 79 a votive relief in London, BM 792, shows
the offering of a cock to Asclepius. However, having inspected this relief in the magazine of the
British Museum, I am of the opinion that the offering is not a cock, but a cup, perhaps a kantharos,
and that the deity is surely not Asclepius.
31
van Straten (1995:170–86).
32
On the price of sacrificial animals, see also ThesCRA I (2004:101–13), s. v. Prix des animaux, sommes
à acquitter pour les sacrifices.
 Visualising Veneration 211
Votive reliefs as documents of mainly private worship show a high number
of sheep and pigs too, but more of the latter.33
With regard to the age of the sacrificial victims, the images rarely show
any gradations between young and adult animals. Size is a problematic
criterion in this context,34 because the proportions of animals, worshippers
and gods follow pictorial conventions: they cannot be read literally.
The physique, however, can be telling. Very few of the votives unambigu-
ously show a piglet, whereas many of them clearly depict fat, adult pigs.35
Cattle are always characterised as thoroughly well-fed, and as mature
animals, not calves. In the case of sheep and goats, the rendering of the
woolly bodies is too schematic to differentiate between kids and lambs or
adult animals. Only large horns can give us a clue that the beast depicted is
not supposed to be young.
Sometimes the horns are also taken to be an indicator of the sex of the
sacrificial victims. Some scholars tend to identify sheep and goats as male if
they are depicted with horns. However, this detail is irrelevant to this issue,
because female animals can also have horns, though less frequently and, for
the most part, smaller ones than males. Only if the genitals are depicted can
the sex of the animal be defined beyond doubt. However, this clarifying
detail is seldom provided.36 For this purpose, it would obviously be
necessary that the hind parts of the animal be visible. As already men-
tioned, on many votives only the foreparts are represented. Even where the
animals are represented without overlapping, so the genitals could in
principle have been shown, they are depicted only on a few examples.
Clearly indicated testicles are of course an unequivocal mark that the
animal is male.37 Animals clearly characterised as female are extremely
rare. The sow, perhaps pregnant, on a late archaic votive to Athena is an
exception.38 If genitals are lacking, one should be cautious about drawing
conclusions about the sex of the animal: it could stand for a female,
a castrated or a schematically rendered male one, or it could even be read
as a formula for the species as such.

33
van Straten (1995), diagrams on p. 172 and on p. 174. 34 van Straten (1995:170–1).
35
This fact was already stated by Schörner (1997:558). For piglets, see for example Eleusis, AM 5063
(side A): van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 65 fig. 83; Wulfmeier (2005:43–51, 135–6), cat. no. WR 27 pl.
17, 1.
36
Melldahl and Flemberg (1978:72–3); van Straten (1995:170); Gebauer (2002:184).
37
For a clearly marked bull, see e.g. Athens, Fethiye Camii P 5 A: Vikela (1994), cat. no. F 10 pl. 31, 1.
Athens, NM 3952: van Straten (1995), cat. no. 90 fig. 93 (erroneously cited as EM 3942). For a ram,
see e. g. Athens, NM 2850: Dentzer (1982), cat. no. R 165 fig. 436; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 122.
Delos A 412: Marcadé (1973:362), fig. 39; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 153.
38
Athens, Acropolis Museum 581: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 58 fig. 79.
212 anj a kl öckner
We should take into account that not only the modern scholar, but also
the contemporary beholder would not have been clearly informed about
the sex of the sacrificial victims by the images. However, the ancient viewer
did not need such information, because the context of the votive, i.e. the
original setting in the sanctuary, will have made it clear what kind of
animal was meant. Evidently, it was not necessary to specify the sex of the
animals visually in many cases. This stands in contrast to the vases, which
are more detailed in this respect. This is surely because they were not
necessarily integrated into a specific ritual context.39

Which Animals Were Offered to Whom and Why?

The connections between sacrificial animals and the divine recipients on
votive reliefs have been described in detail. Folkert van Straten assigned the
sacrificial victims to the deities venerated and Martina Edelmann did the
reverse, assigning the venerated deities to the sacrificial victims.40 Both
these ways of ordering the material are extremely helpful for any further
study in this field, but neither of them has revealed many significant
characteristics. It seems that on the reliefs there is only rarely a fixed
correlation between the deity and the species of sacrificial victim.
On votives for Artemis, for example, we find goats, which are rare on
votives for other deities, but we find cattle, sheep and pigs too.41 If we
analyse the votives from certain sanctuaries, there are hardly any prefer-
ences to be found either. The Athenian sanctuary of Pancrates is a very
instructive example. In the votives from this findspot we have a wide range
of sacrificial victims: pigs, sheep, cattle and even fish.42
Complicating the matter even further is the fact that the iconographical
evidence for animal sacrifice differs also from the epigraphic evidence, at

39
Cf. e. g. van Straten (1995), cat. no. V 384 fig. 43 (bull), cat. no. V 408 fig. 42 (ram).
40
van Straten (1995:63–72 (Asclepius), 72–4 (other healing gods), 74–6 (Zeus), 76–7 (Athena), 77–9
(Demeter and Kore), 80 (Aphrodite), 81–6 (Artemis, Hekate), 86–7 (Apollo), 87 (Dionysus), 87–9
(Heracles), 89–90 (Pancrates and Palaimon), 90–2 (nymphs), 92–100 (heroes)); Edelmann (1999:
147–9 (pigs), 149–50 (sheep), 150–2 (cattle), 152–3 (cattle)). Cf. also ThesCRA I (2004), pp. 68–95 s. v.
Répartition des espèces sacrifiées en fonction des divinités et des héros; Bremmer (2007).
41
For goats on votives for Artemis, cf. e. g. Brauron, AM 1153: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 75 fig. 87.
For cattle on votives for Artemis, cf. e. g. Brauron, AM 1152 (fig. 8.4): ibid., cat. no. R 74 fig. 86. For
sheep on votives for Artemis, cf. e. g. Delphi, AM 1101 + 3815 + 8874: Zagdoun (1977:32–40), nos. 8–9
figs. 21–4; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 77. For pigs on votives for Artemis, cf. Delos, AM A 7724:
Siebert (1988:765), fig. 33. 36; van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 81.
42
Vikela (1994), cat. no. A 4 pl. 4. cat. no. A 9 pl. 6, 3. cat. no. A 11 pl. 9. cat. no. B 6 pl. 20, 1. cat. no.
F 2 pl. 28, 2 (pigs); cat. no. A 1 pl. 1. cat. no. A 20 pl. 16, 2 (sheep); cat. no. F 10 pl. 31, 1 (bull); cat. no.
A 17 pl. 15, 1 (fish).
 Visualising Veneration 213
least in some cases. In the inscriptions, sacrifices of pigs to Demeter are
mentioned quite often, but they are not very frequent on votive reliefs.43
And while the reliefs show many sheep being offered to Asclepius, sheep are
mentioned infrequently in connection with this deity in the inscriptions.44
With regard to goats, however, the epigraphic and the iconographical
evidence match. We can explain this in two different ways: either the
scope permitted in the choice of animal was broader for the individual
dedicants than the inscriptions suggest, or else the images are to a certain
degree independent of the ritual practice. We will return to this issue later.
While this is frustrating for anyone searching for specific patterns, it
does not mean that no such patterns exist, for they do not necessarily
correlate with the divine recipients. As I have shown elsewhere, they may
also correlate with the purpose of the offering.45 A significant example is
the sacrifice of cattle. This species appears strikingly often on dedications
by family groups large and small (Fig. 8.4), while it is otherwise almost
entirely absent from the repertoire of the stelai. It seems that its depiction is
primarily linked to a specific function of the votive in question: they were
set up almost exclusively for children. Of course, neither in image nor in
reality were ritual performances concerning boys and girls always and
exclusively associated with specific types of sacrifice. On votive reliefs set
up for children, pigs and sheep are also represented. Votives for children do
not invariably depict cattle as sacrificial animals, but when cattle are
depicted, then it is very often a votive for a child. Images of the most
expensive sacrificial victims were used only in a particular context.

Animal Sacrifice and the Composition of Votive Reliefs

After this discussion of the various motifs used in images of animal sacrifice
on votive reliefs, we now turn to the range of these images within this
specific genre. It has already been noted that, even though the total number
of sacrificial representations is large, they form only a minority of the whole
class of votive reliefs.46 A reference to animal sacrifice is only one of many
options used to compose these images. The priority was to depict the face-
to-face encounter of mortals and deities. Only on about one-quarter of the

43
Sacrificial animals are significantly rare on votive reliefs for the Eleusinian goddesses at all. Cf. van
Straten (1995:77). On the epigraphic, literary and archaeozoological evidence cf. ThesCRA I (2004),
pp. 79–81 s. v. Demeter (and Kore).
44
van Straten (1995); Edelmann (1999:149). On the epigraphic and literary evidence cf. ThesCRA I
(2004), 76–7 s. v. Asclepios (alone or with Hygieia).
45
Klöckner (2006:141–4). 46 van Straten (1995:58).
(a) (b)

Fig. 8.4. (a) Votive relief to Artemis, from Brauron (second half of the fourth century bc). Brauron, AM1152:
Deutsches Archäologisches Institut Abteilung Athen, Inst. Neg. Athen 1989/1272
(photographer: Elmar Gehnen); (b) Detail of fig. 8.4a.
 Visualising Veneration 215
so-called adoration reliefs is a sacrificial animal represented, while the
others do without it.47 This clearly demonstrates that animal sacrifice is
not an indispensable element in images of religious communication.
Nevertheless, it is important. Given the potential variety of motifs that
could refer to cult, the images are in fact extremely selective. Whenever
other iconographical elements are included in the images as well as the
standard setting of worshippers and deities, sacrificial animals are by far the
most frequent such additional motif. Other gifts, like ceramics or food,
which were offered in the sanctuaries on a huge scale, are depicted only
exceptionally.48 If anything is presented to the gods on the images, it is
nearly always a sacrificial victim. References to ritual performances other
than animal sacrifice, like the preparation of a trapeza, tend to be rare,
too.49 It is also debatable whether the ritual of the theoxenia can be
distinguished in the pictorial evidence. It is at least problematic to connect
the tables set for a meal on the banquet reliefs with theoxenia, either as
direct representations or as more discreet references; they are part of the
heroic setting and not of the world of the worshippers.50
As animal sacrifice is a frequent but not obligatory element of human-
divine encounter on votive reliefs, we should now turn to its specific
function in this context. Evidently, the aspect of communication is of
crucial importance. With very few exceptions, the reliefs never show the
animals alone but always as part of a sacrificial procession.51 In contrast to
the many offerings made, for example, of terracotta and bronze, the main
aim of the reliefs is not only to perpetuate the gifts, but also to represent the
donors. However, they represent themselves first and foremost as worship-
pers, and only secondarily as officiants. They approach their divine coun-
terpart in a reverent posture and only rarely occupy themselves with
preparations for the sacrifice.52 Ritual implements other than the kiste or
47
Cf. e. g. Athens, NM 1431: LIMC VIII (1997), 340 no. 200 s. v. Zeus (Michalis A. Tiverios).
48
Edelmann (1999:153).
49
For trapezai on votive reliefs for Asclepius, see e. g. Athens, Acropolis Museum 2452 (side A): Wulfmeier
(2005:51–3) 120 cat. no. WR 4 pl. 4, 1. Athens, NM 1335: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 10 fig. 70. Athens,
NM 1346 (?): Kaltsas (2002), 142 cat. no. 271 (with fig.). Athens, NM 1368: van Straten (1995), cat. no.
R 14; Leventi (2003:143–4), cat. no. R 38 pl. 28. For trapezai on votive reliefs for Men, see e. g. Athens,
Agora Museum: LIMC VI (1992, p. 469 no. 116* s. v. Men (Rainer Vollkommer). Athens, NM 1406:
ibid. p. 469 no. 115*. Boston, MFA (1972.78: ibid. p. 470), no. 126*. Formerly Amsterdam, Coll. Witrius:
ibid. p. 469 no. 114*. Cf. also Athens, NM 3942: Kaltsas (2002:216–17), cat. no. 448 (with fig.). Athens,
Fethiye Camii P 8 A: Vikela (1994), cat. no. A 12 pl. 10.
50
Klöckner (2010).
51
Cf. e. g. a votive relief with a sheep in Larisa, AM 76/7: van Straten (1995), cat. no. 232 (third
century bc); a bull on two votive reliefs of unknown date from Paros: Rubensohn (1902:224); IG XII
5 no. 254.
52
Cf. e. g. Athens, NM 1384: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 39 fig. 73.
216 anj a kl öckner
the kanoun, such as the liknon53 or the chernips (the vessel holding water to
wash the hands),54 are hardly ever found on the images.
If we take into account the genre-specific pictorial potential of
votive reliefs, animal sacrifice could have been rendered quite differ-
ently. This is not only a theoretical option. At least some votive reliefs
show worshippers not only venerating the deity, but actually involved
in a ritual performance: taking something from a kanoun held by
a servant or putting something on the altar (Fig. 8.5).55 As there are
only a very few examples of this kind, however, it is evident that this
option did not accord with the wishes and intentions of most donors.
In a nutshell: iconographically, praying takes priority over sacrificing.
The images may be – but do not have to be – expanded by references to
animal sacrifice. These references can be made more or less clear by
visual means. Many images do not place much stress on the sacrificial
animals. They are a part, but not always a prominent one, of the
sacrificial procession.56

Iconographical Evidence and Cultic Reality

Finally, I will turn to the complex relation of sacrificial images and
sacrificial reality. Most scholars take it for granted that the images on the
votive reliefs are neatly correlated with the sacrificial performance: that is,
they refer to a sacrificial ritual that actually took place, and one of the
donor’s main aims is to commemorate this sacrifice by means of the
votive.57 In principle, other explanatory models are conceivable as well.
Is it really the purpose of the reliefs to attest that a sacrifice like the one
depicted has taken place?58 Or do they only pretend that it happened, thus

53
Delphi, AM 1101 + 3815 + 8874: Zagdoun (1977:32–40), nos. 8–9 figs. 21–4; van Straten (1995), cat.
no. R 77.
54
van Straten (1995:60). On Athens, NM 1333 (fig. 8.2), the vessel in the hand of the servant may be
identified as a chernips: ibid. pp. 64. 276 cat. no. R 8 fig. 59.
55
Cf. e. g. Athens, NM 1334 (fig. 8.5): van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 9 fig. 64. Athens, NM 1372: ibid.,
cat. no. R 16; Droste (2001:61, 88), pl. 9 a. Paris, Louvre Ma 756: van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 71 fig.
85. Patras, AM 208: ibid. cat. no. R 34 fig. 71.
56
Contra Edelmann (1999:144).
57
Cf. e. g. van Straten (1995:178): ‘We may assume that both the sacrificial calendars and the votive
reliefs faithfully recorded sacrifices that had actually been made or had to be made.’ Cf. also van
Straten (2005:18–19): ‘If on my votive relief I choose to have me and my family depicted while
making sacrifice, it is very important to me that my sacrificial animal, for which I payed with my own
money, should be clearly and recognizably depicted.’
58
Edelmann (1999:151–2) tries to modify this hypothesis: some votives refer to a sacrifice which had
taken place somewhere else than in the actual sanctuary or which was not organised by the donor of
the votive alone but only with his participation.
(a) (b)

Fig. 8.5. (a) Votive relief to Asclepius and Hygieia, from the Asclepieum in Athens (second half of the fourth century BC).
Athens, NM 1334: Deutsches Archäologisches Institut Abteilung Athen, Inst. Neg. Athen NM 6343 (photographer: Eleutherios Feiler);
(b) Detail of fig. 8.5a.
218 anj a kl öckner
‘upgrading’ the offering by visual means? Could we even understand the
images in a rather broad sense as using an iconographic formula that only
loosely alludes to religious practice?
Such questions are not easily answered, because of gaps in the archae-
ological data as well as methodological difficulties. On the one hand, we
unfortunately do not know any sanctuary where the osteological evi-
dence could be correlated systematically with the pictorial evidence from
the same site. On the other hand, of course, images cannot be read
literally. They may use schematic, even polysemantic patterns. The
choice of motifs is often highly selective, as we have seen. Against this
backdrop, we cannot argue with hard facts, but only on the grounds of
plausibility.
Let us start with an assumption about the frequency of references to
animal sacrifice in the genre. We may suppose that in the context of setting
up a votive a sacrifice was made quite often, which makes us ask why
sacrificial victims are only depicted on a relatively small number of stelai, in
comparison to the total number of votive reliefs. Sacrificial animals were
not used as a standard motif, but only on certain votives, when the
dedicant wanted, for whatever reason, to refer to this theme. We may
also deduce that not every dedicant insisted on depicting the victim, even if
he had in fact made a sacrifice. Apparently, the motif was chosen deliber-
ately. What could have prompted this choice?
One possible explanation would be that the motif of the sacrificial
animal visually underlines the wealth of the donors. Did the latter
perhaps even try to enhance their votives by visual means, independently
of the actual ritual performance in the sanctuary? For various reasons,
this is not persuasive. As we have already seen, the animals are often only
partly visible. If the common focus of the images was on the precious
gifts, we should expect these to be presented regularly in a more promi-
nent way. A further issue is the relation between the depiction of
sacrificial animals and the price of the votives. It is difficult to define
the latter precisely, as there is no direct evidence from the Classical
period. If we compare the prices for the document reliefs, we have to
take into account that the length of the inscription and the size of the
stone was what determined their cost.59 Bearing these difficulties in
mind, one can nevertheless cautiously assume that about 10 drachmai
had to be paid for a simple votive relief, including the stone as well as the
workmanship.60 In relation to this, the price of the sacrificial victim was

59 60
Meyer (1989:19–21). van Straten (1974:184–7); Edelmann (1999:180 n. 1186).
 Visualising Veneration 219
a considerable cost factor for the donor. Even the cheapest adult animal,
a sheep of about 10–17 drachmai, was roughly as expensive as a modest
relief.
Against this background it is striking that the images of sacrificial
victims were not used on the more costly votives in particular.
On average, the reliefs with images of sacrificial animals have the same
format as those without. In both categories, most are wider than 30 cm,
and about one-quarter of them are wider than 60 cm. Only the votives
representing bovines, the most expensive, and hence most prestigious,
sacrificial animals, are notably large and lavish.61 Obviously their donors
must have been quite well-to-do. The prosperous donors in general,
however, exhibit no conspicuous preference for votives with cattle.
Among the reliefs that stand out in quality and cost, they are a minority.
The motif of a sacrificial animal was not obligatory, nor even frequent, on
expensive, skilfully decorated reliefs, many of which lack it.62 If the main
purpose of representing sacrificial animals had been to ‘upgrade’ the
votive by visual means, then we should expect them to be depicted
more often. They cannot be understood as a simple cypher to be used
in any context, merely standing for ‘expense’ or, in the case of cattle,
‘luxury’.
If the depiction of a sacrificial animal does not necessarily mirror the
cultic reality, and if it is not used as a mere pictorial formula, what else
could be the reasons for it? As we have already seen, there are no correla-
tions with specific sanctuaries or deities. The same can be said about the sex
of the donor. Women as well as men offered votive reliefs with references to
animal sacrifice.63 There are fewer of these than in the case of male donors,
but in the same proportion as the overall ratio of female to male offerings in
general. Only in the case of votive reliefs with cattle can we identify certain
patterns.

61
For above-average large votive reliefs with cattle cf. e. g. Athens, NM 1331: LIMC II, (1984:889),
no. 386* s. v. Asklepios (Bernard Holtzmann); van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 7 (h.: 67 cm; w.: 99 cm).
Brauron, AM 1151: ibid., cat. no. 73 fig. 57 (h.: 58 cm, w.: 102,5 cm). Brauron, AM 1152 (fig. 8.4): ibid.,
cat. no. R 74 fig. 86 (h.: 59 cm, w.: 114,5 cm). Lamia, AM AE 1041: ibid., cat. no. 75 b fig. 88 (h.:
68 cm, w.: 121 cm). Paris, Louvre Ma 755: ibid., cat. no. R 23 fig. 63 (h.: 49,5 cm, w.: 90 cm).
62
Cf. e. g. Rome, Museo Nazionale Romano, Palazzo Altemps 182595: de Angelis d’ Ossat (2002:143),
with fig. (h.: 62 cm, w.: 151 cm); Rome, Vatican 739: LIMC II (1984:873–4), no. 72* s.v. Asklepios
(Bernard Holtzmann) (h.: 98 cm, w.: 146 cm).
63
Cf. e. g. the votive of a certain –tobole to Zeus Meilichios, Piraeus, AM Pir 3 (fig. 8.3): van Straten
(1995), cat. no. R 44 fig. 75 (pig). Votive of Aristonike to Artemis, Brauron, AM 1151: ibid., cat. no.
R 73 fig. 57 (bovine). Votive of Persis to Artemis, Brauron, AM 1152 (fig. 8.4): ibid., cat. no. R 74 fig.
86 (bovine).
220 anj a kl öckner
‘Conspicuous Consumption’?
As mentioned above, images with bovines are dependent on situation.
The depiction of a special sacrificial animal is connected with a special
event: the presentation of children in a sanctuary. This allows us to draw
conclusions about the importance of these occasions for the participants
and thus also of the votives that commemorated them. To represent
a bovine on a relief is surely meant to ‘upgrade’, to raise the status of the
votive, but it is not simply a matter of choice for the votaries, with no
relation at all to the actual ritual performance. Of course we will never
know if the votaries really had slaughtered cattle before or in connection
with the donation of these votive reliefs. We should not, however, rule this
possibility out from the start. Cattle sacrifice was carried out by private
individuals, though not so often as by the polis and by cultic communities,
because of the considerable expense involved.64 Rituals related to children
seem to have provided a grand occasion for celebrations of the oikos.
At least the more prosperous oikos could have made a costly sacrifice at
such events. We have votives depicting expensive victims set up
in situations where expensive sacrifices took place in reality too. This
does not prove that every image necessarily refers to a specific sacrifice of
an animal like the one depicted, but it makes it conceivable at least.
The example of cattle also throws light on the relation of sacrificial
images and sacrificial reality in other respects. It clearly demonstrates how
misleading it can be to make inferences from the image to the reality and it
can also warn us against rash generalisations. In ritual practice, cattle were
deployed in a wide variety of cults. On the images, cattle are only depicted
in connection with a certain range of cults – one more example of the
selectivity of the pictorial evidence.

Pigs or Piglets?
As we have already seen, the votive reliefs show a high number of sheep and
pigs, but more of the latter. According to van Straten, these images stand
for suckling-pigs and adult sheep. He concludes that many votaries, with
limited funds, preferred piglets because of their lower price of 3 to 3.5
drachmai.65 His main argument is the evidence of the Attic sacrificial
calendars. The sheep listed in the inscriptions were mainly adult animals,

64
Hausmann (1948:74); Rosivach (1994:68–78, 107–13); van Straten (1995:170–81); Blok (2009:100).
65
van Straten (1995:177–8).
 Visualising Veneration 221
whereas the pigs were predominantly suckling-pigs. Iconography, how-
ever, tells another story. We have already seen that the stonemasons were in
principle able to differentiate between piglets and pigs. Nevertheless, this
differentiation was not made very often. Is this because it was a convention
to use the pictorial motif ‘pig’ independently of the age of the animals, or
because the images represent reality? The answer has far-reaching conse-
quences. If we take the epigraphic evidence more seriously than the images,
the latter are to be understood either as mere ciphers or as an attempt to
enhance the value of the real offering by visual means, thus making a fat pig
out of a cheap piglet. If we take the iconographical evidence seriously, the
images refer to real offerings of adult pigs, which means that the donors
paid a significant amount of money for them.
Unless we can correlate the osteological with the visual evidence in at least
one sanctuary, the question will never be answered unambiguously. Again
we can only search for plausibility, not proof. At any rate, we always need
clear indications before we can conclude that an image should stand for
anything other than what is depicted. In our case, there are no such indica-
tions apart from the epigraphic evidence. It is hard to imagine that an
especially fleshy specimen with a massive neck like the pig on a votive to
the Eleusinian goddesses in the Louvre should be understood as a mere
pictorial convention, while in reality the donor offered only a small piglet.66
Votive reliefs with images of animal sacrifice were certainly used not
only for communication with the divine, but also for self-representation by
the dedicant. Competition among donors for social power, prestige and
the like should be accepted as a serious motivation for setting up a votive.
However, the element of authenticity in the votary’s self-fashioning is of
fundamental importance in this context. Even if we cannot exclude that
a certain donor exaggerated the value of his sacrifice by depicting an adult,
expensive animal instead of a young, cheap one, we should not take this as
a general rule. The epigraphic and the iconographical evidence differ, but
there is no need to force them into agreement, especially as they refer to
sacrifices by different agents.

Conclusion
Images of animal sacrifice have often been analysed with regard to cultic
reality. However, the relation of sacrificial representations to actual ritual
performance is complex. If a sacrificial animal is lacking in the image, the

66
van Straten (1995), cat. no. R 67 fig. 81.
222 anj a kl öckner
motif was evidently not of central importance in this context. Still, it
cannot be ruled out that the setting up of the votive was connected with
a sacrifice in reality. Conversely, if a sacrificial animal is represented in the
image, we will never know if the votaries actually did slaughter one before
or in connection with the donation of the votive in question. Nevertheless,
this is at least plausible, taking into account the specific character of the
genre. Votive reliefs are not merely reminders of ritual performances, they
are documents of them. Serving as a document in religious communication
does not mean that every detail of the ritual performance has to be
mirrored in the image. However, it requires that the image not be in
a stark contrast to reality, even if it is selective or embellished.
Even if the images did commemorate sacrifices that had actually taken
place, they cannot be read literally. The worshippers used the medium of
the reliefs in certain contexts to show that they made a sacrifice and also
what they sacrificed, but not how they sacrificed. To this extent, the
pictorial evidence only allows limited conclusions to be drawn about ritual
practice. However, it clearly indicates which elements of this practice were
important for the donors’ self-representation. Their main aim was not to
portray the ritual, but to attest to it. For that purpose, it was necessary to
characterise the species of the animal unmistakably, while other details
could be neglected. The expenditure for the sacrifice can be stressed by
visual means, but this is not a general aim of the votives under discussion.
The sacrifice as such was surely not the focus of the actions depicted.
As mentioned above, praying takes priority over sacrificing.
The sacral conventions in the sanctuaries were of course relevant for the
rendering of the sacrificial animals, but they were not decisive. The aspects
that were crucial for the decision on whether a sacrificial animal should be
depicted (and if so, which one) were the occasion of the offering and the
message that the votaries wished to communicate, to the divine recipients
as well as to the contemporary visitors to the sanctuary. On votive reliefs,
the reference to animal sacrifice was only one option among many, but it
was deployed in a meaningful way. Even if we can only rarely decipher this
meaning, we should be aware that the depiction of a sacrificial animal on
a votive was neither a mere convention nor a mirror of reality, but
a deliberate choice.
 chapter 9

Sacrifice in Drama: The Flow of Liquids

Richard Seaford

The normal purpose of Greek animal sacrifice was to eat, while gratifying
the deity. But it also occurred in certain contexts for quite different
purposes, while nevertheless retaining at least some of the terminology
and of the sequence of actions characteristic of the normal sacrifice. That
is, it might – at least to some extent – retain its identity (as animal
sacrifice) while performing diverse functions in diverse contexts. In
these contexts the emotions and associations attaching to basic actions
(killing the animal, libations, and so on) are likely to be adapted to the
function being performed. I will here explore this phenomenon, concen-
trating on two kinds of sacrifice (the oath sacrifice and the pre-battle
sacrifice), on the sacrificial actions that involve the flow of liquid (water,
blood, wine), and on a poetic descriptions of an oath sacrifice – namely
the one performed by the seven besiegers of Thebes at Aeschylus’ Seven
Against Thebes 42–53:
ἄνδρες γὰρ ἑπτά, θούριοι λοχαγέται,
ταυροσφαγοῦντες ἐς μελάνδετον σάκος,
καὶ θιγγάνοντες χερσὶ ταυρείου φόνου,
Ἄρην Ἐνυὼ καὶ φιλαίματον Φόβον
ὡρκωμότησαν, ἢ πόλει κατασκαφὰς
θέντες λαπάξειν ἄστυ Καδμείων βίαι,
ἢ γῆν θανόντες τήνδε φυράσειν φόνωι·
μνημεῖά θ’ αὑτῶν τοῖς τεκοῦσιν ἐς δόμους
πρὸς ἅρμ’ Ἀδράστου χερσὶν ἔστεφον, δάκρυ
λείβοντες, οἶκτος δ’ οὔτις ἦν διὰ στόμα·
σιδηρόφρων γὰρ θυμὸς ἀνδρείαι φλέγων
ἔπνει λεόντων ὣς Ἄρη δεδορκότων.
For seven men, vigorous company-leaders,
slaughtering a bull into a black-rimmed
shield, and touching the bull’s blood with
their hands, swore an oath by Ares, Enyo and
blood-loving Terror, that they would either

223
224 richard seaford
bring destruction on the town of the
Kadmeians by violence, or die and mix their
blood with the earth; and with their hands
they were adorning the chariot of Adrastos
with memorials for themselves to take home
to their parents, shedding tears, but there was
no pity coming through their mouth. For
there breathed a steel-minded spirit blazing
with courage, as of lions with the light of
battle in their eyes.

With these lines the messenger describes what he has seen from the walls
of Thebes, shortly before the fighting starts. The sacrifice is of the kind
that accompanies an oath. But it also seems to evoke the kind of animal
sacrifice that immediately precedes battle. It does so because of the
similarities between the oath sacrifice and the pre-battle sacrifice and
because the fighting is imminent. It does so also because there is no other
Greek instance of an oath sacrifice occurring as preparation for imminent
battle. The closest instance (known to me) to such an oath1 is the one
recorded on a fourth-century bc inscription as sworn ‘when they were
about to fight the barbarians’ at Plataia by the Athenians, who then
covered the sacrificial victims with their shields.2 This has generally
been regarded as fictitious, for various reasons that include its denounce-
ment as such by Theopompus.3 Van Wees however argues that it derives
from the oath of the ἐνωμοτία, the Spartan small military unit that was
bound together by an oath, and that its content fits the historical
circumstances of the ‘weeks’ leading up to the battle of Plataia.4
Although the oath contains a phrase implying that death is preferable
to defeat (as does the Seven oath), it may – if authentic – have been sworn
at the start of a campaign rather than just before battle. Herodotus’
detailed account of the battle includes divinatory sacrifices (9.61–2), but
makes no mention of any oath.

1
The oath mentioned at Hdt. 7.132.2 as sworn by the Greeks did not occur (as Faraone (1993:68 n. 34)
states) ‘at Thermopylae’. For the oath sacrifice in Iliad 3, see below.
2
Rhodes and Osborne (2003:no.88, 46–51 (=SEG 21.519)). The oath is also mentioned (in different
wording, and without the shield ritual) in Lycurgus (Leocr. 80f.) and Diodorus (11.29.2, located at the
Isthmus).
3
115 FrGH F153. For the case for authenticity, see Siewert (1972).
4
van Wees (2006:139). On this basis, the promise in the inscribed oath to punish Thebes (a
commitment that may have proved impossible to fulfil) has been connected to the promise to
destroy Thebes in the Seven oath: Torrance (2007:49–50).
 Sacrifice in Drama: The Flow of Liquids 225
There is therefore no reason to suppose that the Seven sacrifice reflects
normal practice. In this and other respects it is exotic, shaped presumably
by Aeschylus’ imagination. But this does not mean that the passage reveals
nothing about actual practice. We must test the hypothesis that Aeschylus’
poetic imagination here (as elsewhere) not only recombines and intensifies
actual sacrificial practices but also extends and makes beautiful the emo-
tions and associations attaching to them, and so may reveal something
about the subjectivity of animal sacrifice.

I will first set out what the description of the sacrifice has in common with
(a) other oath sacrifices, and (b) pre-battle sacrifices.
(a) Firstly, there is physical contact with the slaughtered animal. In
Xenophon’s Anabasis (2.2.9) the Greek expeditionary force has just been
abandoned by a contingent of Thracians, and is in great difficulty. It then
joins forces with a barbarian army, and seals the oath of alliance by
slaughtering various animals over a shield, with the Greeks dipping a
sword into the blood and the barbarians a lance. The context differs
from the Seven oath sacrifice (it is not just before battle, but to strengthen
a precarious alliance). But there are striking similarities, in the use of the
shield and in that the parties seem united by their physical contact with the
same highly charged blood. Such contact may bind even a single party. The
Spartan king Demaratus begs his mother to tell the truth (about who his
father was) after first putting into her hands entrails (σπλάγχνα) οf an ox
sacrificed to Zeus.5
Secondly, the swearers of oaths sometimes invoke punishment against
themselves for any future breach of the oath. For instance, the Greek and
Trojan participants in the peace oath in the Iliad ask the gods to ensure that
whoever first breaks it has their brain spill out ‘like this wine’,6 referring to
the libation that has followed the slaughter of lambs. In the Seven passage
φόνος, ‘blood’, occurs at the end of the verse in both 44 and 48, and this can
hardly fail to evoke a familiar kind of idea: ‘if I do not keep my oath to
destroy the city, then I will pour out my blood like the blood of this
animal’.7
(b) As for pre-battle sacrifices, opinions differ as to whether they always
had a divinatory element.8 Pritchett makes a good case for there being
sacrifices called σφάγια – just before or during the onset of battle – that
5
Hdt. 6.67–8; other examples of the importance of physical contact (with victim or altar) in the oath:
Antiph. 5.12; Andoc. 1.126; Isae. 7.16; Aeschin. 1.114; Dem. 23.68; Lyk. Leokr. 20; Ap.Rhod. 2.719.
6
They and their offspring, and their wives to be booty for others: Il. 3.298–301.
7 8
This is pointed out by Faraone (1993:67). Clearly divinatory is the sacrifice at Seven 378–9.
226 richard seaford
were often propitiatory rather than divinatory. Jameson however maintains
that, at least in the Classical period, in pre-battle sacrifices there was always a
divinatory element. But what could be done about bad signs as the enemy
bore down on the front line? Signs taken from such sacrifices must have been
‘essentially confirmatory’. ‘In effect, the σφάγια narrow down to a single
action and an observation – the killing of the victim with a stab into the neck
and the observing of the flow of blood that results.’9 A passage (unmentioned
by Jameson) that nicely illustrates this conception is Euripides Heraclidai
821–2. As soon as it became clear that battle is inevitable,
ἔσφαζον, οὐκ ἔμελλον, ἀλλ’ ἀφίεσαν
λαιμῶν βοείων10 εὐθὺς οὔριον φόνον.
οἱ δ’ ἅρματ’ εἰσέβαινον. . .
They were slaughtering, they did not delay, but let flow
immediately the favourable blood of oxen throats.
Others entered chariots. . ..
The impression given is that the sacrifice – by μάντεις, seers (819) – is ready
to be performed, because it has to be performed quickly. What is ‘favour-
able’ (οὔριος) is the blood, presumably by being of good colour and
flowing strongly.11
In such pre-battle sacrifices there is no altar, no cutting up of the victim,
and no meal; generally no divine recipient is mentioned, and the language
used is generally not θύειν, θῦμα, ἱερά but σφάζειν, σφάγια. In all these
respects they resemble oath sacrifices12 – including the one in Seven, which
they also resemble in two further respects: their occurrence just before
battle (even – at least sometimes – within sight of the enemy),13 and the
centrality of the flow of blood.

This flow of blood may have had a psychological function, as a familiar,

controlled, and so reassuring entry into the terrifying and uncontrollable
bloodshed on both sides of the battle.14 In practice, this kind of

9
Pritchett (1971:109–13); (1979:83–8); Jameson (1991:204–5); other treatments of pre-battle sacrifices
are Parker (2000) and Lonis (1979:95–115).
10
The textual problem (βροτείων L; βοείων Helbig) decides the nature of the sacrifice (human or
animal), but does not affect my point.
11
See below on Aristophanes’ Lysistrata.
12
Ekroth (2002:252). The deities invoked by oaths are not necessarily the recipients of any accom-
panying sacrifice.
13
Pritchett (1979:84).
14
Burkert (1985:60): ‘The quasi-harmless and manageable slaughter is a premonitory anticipation of
the battle and its unforeseeable dangers.’
 Sacrifice in Drama: The Flow of Liquids 227
reinforcement may have merged into the reassurance provided by the
‘favourable’ quality of the blood. True, this latter reassurance is indirect
(through interpretation) whereas the former is direct. But the onset of
battle was not a time for careful divinatory inspection. The word οὔριος in
our Heracleidai passage seems to do more than merely indicate the sig-
nificance of the signs (the flow and colour of the blood). The adjective
οὔριος is from the noun οὖρος, which means favourable wind. It seems to
endow the blood itself with invisible (wind-like) power to move the troops
forward into battle. A similar effect is obtained by the application of οὔριος
in Euripides’ Helen both to the sacrificial blood that spurts into the waves
(1588) to accompany the prayer for escape over the sea and (1612, 1663) to
the wind that then arises to move the ship forward.
Such a reassuring function is suggested also by the pre-battle actions of the
Spartan army. Xenophon mentions the sacrifice of a she-goat, the playing of
pipes, the wearing of crowns, and the combing of hair (Rep. Lac. 13.8).
Plutarch mentions the she-goat sacrifice, pipers playing the Kastor song, and
the paian accompanying advance. ‘The sight is solemn and at the same time
formidable’, with the soldiers being ‘led into the danger gently and cheerfully
(πρᾴως καὶ ἱλαρῶς) by the song. For it is to be expected that people in this
state have neither excessive fear nor excessive anger, but a stable mind with
hope and courage as the god being present’ (Lyc. 22.2–3). The seven parti-
cipants in the Seven oath sacrifice are left – despite their fore-knowledge of
their demise – with ‘steel-minded’ determination (50–3).

The Athenian ephebic oath promises solidarity in battle (‘nor will I leave
the man next to me’). In Seven solidarity seems implicit in the collective
touching of the blood. Now physical contact with liquid seems to have
been imagined as an agent of solidarity in animal sacrifice in general.
Klutaimestra invites Kassandra indoors
ἐπεί σ’ ἔθηκε Ζεὺς ἀμηνίτως δόμοις
κοινωνὸν εἶναι χερνίβων, πολλῶν μετὰ
δούλων σταθεῖσαν κτησίου βωμοῦ πέλας.
since Zeus has without anger made you to
share with the house the lustral water,
standing with many slaves at the household altar.15
As part of the preparation for animal sacrifice, lustral water (χέρνιψ, plural
χέρνιβες) was sprinkled onto participants, altar, and victim, and the

15
Aesch. Ag. 1037–8; cf. Eur. El. 792.
228 richard seaford
participants also washed their hands with it (χερνίπτεσθαι).16 The Furies ask
‘what χέρνιψ φρατέρων will receive him?’ (the matricide Orestes): belonging
to a phratry is expressed as participation in the χέρνιψ. Oedipus proclaims
that nobody should make the murderer of Laios participant (κοινός) in
prayers and sacrifices, nor distribute to him the χέρνιψ.17 To sprinkle the
altars ‘from a single χέρνιψ’ is to be like kinsmen.18
Kassandra will participate in the χέρνιβες ostensibly as bystander but in
fact as victim (both were sprinkled). The same ambivalence occurs in the
description of the χέρνιβες in the impending sacrifice of Orestes as ‘bloody’
(E. IT 644–5): the sacrificial liquids merge. In the Seven sacrifice the
solidarity of collective contact with the χέρνιβες has been transferred to
the blood. With the warriors ‘touching the blood’ (θιγγάνοντες.. /. φόνου)
compare the same verb – also of participation but in the χέρνιβες – in the
reproach of Menelaos to Orestes εὖ γοῦν θίγοις ἂν χερνίβων.19 In
Euripides’ Cyclops the chorus-leader of the satyrs expresses the desire to
take hold of the torch that will be plunged into Polyphemos’ eye: ‘for I wish
to participate in this φόνος’: just as in the sacrifice a burning torch was
plunged into the χέρνιβες so as to sprinkle it on bystanders etc.,20 so a
burning torch will be plunged into Polyphemos’ eye and then withdrawn
covered in blood.21 Participation in φόνος22 as ‘killing’ suits the sacrificial
image23 though not the blinding, but it suits the blinding by virtue of its
meaning ‘blood’. Here too then (active) participation in the χέρνιβες
merges with participation in blood.

In the Seven sacrifice it is as if a basic action of the normal sacrifice

(collective touching of liquid) has persisted into an abnormal context
and function (pre-battle oath-sacrifice), with blood rather than water.
The ease with which we have seen the imagination may replace one
sacrificial liquid with another – in IT, Cyclops, and Seven – occurs also
elsewhere. For instance the Molossians, in their oaths, 24 cut up an ox into
small pieces and prayed that the transgressors be cut up in this way, and
they poured out wine and prayed that the blood of the transgressors be
poured out in this way.

16
Eitrem (1915:76–80); Stengel (1920:109–10); Nilsson (1967:148–9).
17 18
Aesch. Eum. 656; Soph. OT 239–40. Ar. Lys. 1129–30.
19
Eur. Or. 1602; cf. TGF 2 (Adespota). 619.7 χέρνιβος θιγὼν; also Dio Chrys. 34(17).34 ‘those who
touch (θιγγάνοντες) the libation (σπονδή)’; Aeschin. 2.84.
20 21
See n. 16 above. More detail in Seaford (1984) ad Eur. Cyc. 469–71.
22
We should not emend to πόνου (Nauck): see Seaford (1984) ad Eur. Cyc. 471.
23
Cf. also the phrase κοινωνεῖν φόνου at Eur. Andr. 915, El. 1048, Or. 1591. 24
CPG I 225–6.
 Sacrifice in Drama: The Flow of Liquids 229
Similarly, during the libation of wine that follows the oath sacrifice, the
Greeks and Trojans pray to Zeus that the brains of whoever transgresses
the oath ‘flow to the ground like this wine’ (Iliad 3.300). However, in the
prayer to Zeus that has just accompanied the sacrifice of lambs, there is no
wish that the transgressors should suffer the fate of the lambs. This is
surprising, because the vocabulary used of the death of the lambs is
paralleled in Homer only in descriptions of the death of warriors.25
Faraone (1993) adds more detail, and concludes that the oral poet ‘has
streamlined his description of the ceremony by leaving out the explicit
curse’. Faraone also emphasises the importance of the detailed description
of this oath to the overall narrative. But why then the streamlining?
Perhaps because the purpose of this oath is to avoid battle.26 In the pre-
battle σφάγια the animal slaughter initiated the human slaughter. To make
explicit the link between them may have seemed undesirable in the context
of a ritual that aims at avoiding battle.
The normal animal sacrifice contains the flow of three liquids: water
(χέρνιβες), blood, and wine (generally poured over the altar fire). Although
imaginable – as we have seen – in terms of each other, they involve quite
different emotions and associations. The spurt of blood is shocking and in
a sense uncontrollable, but controlled in that it is collected in a bowl.
Antithetically, the pouring of the wine, like libations generally, is entirely
controlled but irretrievable. It is this irretrievability that makes Burkert call
libation ‘serene wastefulness’ and ‘the purest and highest form of renuncia-
tion’.27 As for the water, it is a medium of solidarity, and its ritual pouring
is also controlled.
What are the emotions and associations attaching to these actions? The
bloodshed, despite its controlled collection, must always have created some
anxiety.
In the normal sacrifice the anxiety is soon overcome by the familiar
procedures of carving and cooking and the good cheer of the feast. In the
oath sacrifice there is no meal, and the anxiety may be required to persist in
order to deter transgression. In the pre-battle σφάγια too there is no meal,
but the anxiety functions as a controlled entry into the greater anxiety of
uncontrollable fighting.
Solidarity, which in the normal sacrifice is achieved in part through
physical contact with liquid (χέρνιβες), becomes the central aim of the oath

25
Notably 293 ἀσπαίροντας and 294 θυμοῦ δευομένοῦ: see Kirk (1985:307).
26
By ensuring that the differences between the two sides are to be decided instead by single combat.
27
Burkert (1985:72).
230 richard seaford
sacrifice, in which it may be achieved through physical contact with the
victim, and in some (real or imagined) cases through libations (or drinking,
or both) of its blood mixed with wine.28
The Seven oath sacrifice, being also in a sense a pre-battle sacrifice, is
rather different. Whereas the oath sacrifice may enhance and perpetuate
the anxiety attaching to the killing, the pre-battle sacrifice by contrast
controls it. In Seven the blood flows, as in a normal sacrifice, into a
container (normally a bowl, here a shield), where however it performs
the unifying function of the χέρνιβες. The feeling produced by this unusual
combination is of anxiety absorbed into highly controlled solidarity. But
then there is mention of pouring blood on the ground, ‘mixing blood with
this earth’ (48), as what will happen if they do not keep their oath to destroy
Thebes. While in physical contact with the controlled pouring of animal
blood they invoke the uncontrolled pouring of their own blood.
In this way the anomaly of an oath sacrifice just before battle seems to
produce the opposed emotions of confidence and anxiety. Normally the
link between pre-battle animal blood and the human blood of battle may
provide a reassuring sense of control; but here, with the warriors invoking
the pouring of their own blood, it seems to anticipate that pouring, as if the
warriors are doomed. And sure enough, they go on to weep, while decorat-
ing the chariot of Adrastos with ‘memorials’ of themselves to return home
to their parents.29 The scholiast states that Amphiaraos had prophesied to
them that only Adrastos will be saved. Amphiaraos foresees his own death
(587–8). The performance of death ritual for the living occurs elsewhere in
tragedy.30 Here there is the further twist that the weeping is described as
‘pouring’ (λείβοντες), a word used frequently of libations. In this context of
animal sacrifice, the weeping takes the place of – and so seems assimilated
to – the libation that generally follows the killing of the animal. The
assimilation is served by the soundlessness of the weeping.31
The assimilation of weeping to the libation occurs elsewhere in Aeschylus.
Electra says that when her father was being dishonourably buried, in

28
Hdt. 3.11; 4.70; Pl. Critias 119e–120a; Diod. Sic. 22.5; Syll. 736.2.
29
The scholiast on this word identifies the lock of hair as one of the memorials sent by soldiers to their
relatives. A lock of hair was sent by the dying Parthenopaios (one of the Seven) in Stat. Theb. 9.900–
1. A series of Attic vase-paintings (contemporary with and not long before Seven) shows the Seven
preparing for battle: Tiverios (1981). They are similar to what Aeschylus describes here, because
Parthenopaios is (pace Tiverios) using the sword to cut (not comb) his hair, and the chariot may well
belong to Adrastos.
30
In Aesch. Ag. 1322–3; Soph. Ant. 806ff; Eur. Ba. 857–9; see further Seaford (1984); Il. 6.500.
31
This is not to say that the warriors’ lack of self-pity has no military function: cf. Eteokles’ rejection of
lamentation at 182–6, 242–3, 279–80.
 Sacrifice in Drama: The Flow of Liquids 231
confinement she brought up λίβη (from λείβω, pour) of tears and poured
(χέουσα) her ‘many-teared lament’ (Cho. 447–8). This evokes the libations
that she was prevented from giving him then and is giving him now.32 The
chorus urge that, while the libations are being poured (156), there be sent
forth ‘a tear perished for a perished lord’ δάκρυ.. ὀλόμενον ὀλομένωι
δεσπόται’ (152–3). The point of this is that, in the words of Garvie, ‘the
tear, like the libations themselves, is to perish and be drunk up by the earth
(cf. 164), as earlier the blood of Agamemnon had been drunk (66)’.33 We
may add that the perishing of the tear corresponds with the emphasised
irrevocability of the pouring of the blood of Agamemnon into the ground
(Ag. 1019–21, Cho. 48). The Furies state that the blood of Klutaimestra is
‘hard to bring up’, and then generalise: ‘liquid (τὸ διερόν) poured into the
ground is gone’ (Eum. 262–3). Finally, that the libations sent by
Klutaimestra might be thought equivalent (as recompense) to
Agamemnon’s blood is implied by its denial by Orestes: ‘the gifts are less
than the offence: someone having poured out all things (i.e. as a libation) in
exchange for the blood of one man – the labour is in vain’ (520–1). To
conclude this paragraph, we find in the Oresteia a coherent set of allusions to
the assimilation of the pouring of libations, of tears, and of blood.
The animal sacrifice can be divided into three phases: a set of prepara-
tory actions, the killing of the animal(s), and the subsequent actions with
carving and eating at their centre. The first phase is concerned with the
marking out of the place, of the human group, and of the victim(s); and the
‘horror’ of the second phase ‘is transformed into pleasure’ in the communal
meal of the third. In each phase liquid is poured – respectively χέρνιβες,
blood, and libation (generally of wine onto the fire). But each pouring is
associated with a different mood, the χέρνιβες with the serene solidarity of
the group, the blood with anxiety, and the libation with the restoration of
serenity. Occurring as they do in ritual, all three flows are subject to
control. ‘The blood flowing out is treated with special care. It may not
spill on the ground.’34 Though the water and wine are once poured
irretrievable, with the frightening flow of the blood it is also life that is
irretrievably lost.
The conception of any one of these sacrificial pourings may have been
affected by the others, despite (or even because of) the difference of the
emotions attaching to them. When the Molossians, or the oath participants
32
χέουσα used of the libations at 87, 109, and 129, χοάς at 87, 149, 156, 164, 514, 525, 538. λείβειν of
libations: Su. 981; cf. Cho. 292, fr. 55, Eum. 54.
33
It must be admitted however that the text of 152–3 is suspect: West (1990:236–7).
34
Burkert (1983:5), with source references.
232 richard seaford
in Iliad 3, require the blood or brains of the transgressor to be spilled like the
libation, this is surely more than a simile: the implication is that the
controlled and yet irretrievable outpouring (in the sight of the invoked
deity) has – on a principle well known from sympathetic magic35 – some
unspecified causal link with the desired outpouring of the blood or brains of
the transgressor. Similar is Jameson’s characterisation of the pre-battle
σφάγια as ‘an act and a wish: “We kill. May we kill.”’36 In other words,
sacrificial ritual may be imagined as influencing events (as well as being
influenced by them37).
In Seven poured water and the libation are replaced by poured blood and
poured tears, with the result that such pourings seem – up to a point – to be
assimilated to each other. As a result, the emotions of the normal sacrificial
pourings (of solidarity, anxiety, control, and irretrievable renunciation)
may in Seven seem to migrate from one kind of pouring to another. The
anxiety at bloodshed is
(a) absorbed into the controlled solidarity of its being poured into the
shield (the controlled collection of the blood occurs in the normal
sacrifice, but the solidarity is normally provided by water);
(b) then renewed by imagining the uncontrolled pouring of human
blood into the earth, which implies the equally irrevocable (but
controlled and harmless) renunciation characteristic of the irretrie-
vable pouring of libations;
(c) finally re-absorbed by the pouring of tears, which – though as
irretrievable as the death they are caused by – here share in the serene
renunciation of the libation to which in the sacrificial sequence they
correspond.
In this movement – from the controlled pouring of blood to the
uncontrolled pouring of blood and then to the controlled pouring of
tears – the control and solidarity of the first phase re-appears in the self-
control and implied solidarity of the third.

Another instance of the assimilation of various flowing liquids to each

other in the sacrifice is the oath sacrifice performed by the women in
Aristophanes’ Lysistrata to cement their alliance. Moreover, and despite the
two sacrifices being in mood and in various details very different, Lysistrata
explicitly models a feature of her sacrifice on the one in Seven (188–9).

35 36
See further Faraone (1993). Jameson (1991:221).
37
e.g. Soph. Ant. 1005–11; Eur. Phoen. 1257–8.
 Sacrifice in Drama: The Flow of Liquids 233
There is in the description of the sacrifice a series of sexual double
entendres, which are for the most part ignored by the commentators.38
They are as follows.

186. The τόμια requested by Lysistrata are used only in oath sacrifices, and
are usually the victim’s testicles.39
192. It is suggested that a white horse be used as a τόμιον. Henderson
(1987) calls ‘the likeliest explanation’ the presence of a Skythian woman
(184), for Scythians sacrificed white horses. This may well be relevant, but is
insufficient. An explanation offered by the scholiast of the white horse, that
it is a double entendre for penis, is called by Henderson in his commentary
far-fetched. Hesychius (i 845) refers ἵππος to the genitals of both sexes, and
Henderson himself in his The Maculate Muse40 provides plenty of evidence
for the erotic associations of the horse (including the female genitals).
196–7. Lysistrata suggests that ‘sheep-slaughtering a jar of Thasian wine
we swear not to pour water into the cup’. Here Sommerstein in his
commentary recognises that ‘the “cup” is the vagina’41 . . . and the
“water” its lubrication produced before and during intercourse (called
‘dew’, in Knights 1285)’.
200–3. murrhine: Dearest women, what a big piece of pottery.
kalonike: One would enjoy taking hold of this forthwith.
lysistrata: Put this down and join me in taking hold of (προσλαβοῦ)
the boar.
Each of these lines has a sexual double entendre. As elsewhere in the scene
(e.g. 216), the lasciviousness of the women undercuts their own intention
to abstain from sex. After the mentions of sheep (188) and horse (192), we
now have a boar, κάπρος. In Aristotle the verb καπρᾶν refers to the sow
wanting the boar (Hist. an. 572b24), and in comedy καπρᾶν and κάπραινα
express human female sexual appetite.42 Προσλαβοῦ expresses the collec-
tive physical contact with the animal that we have seen as an ingredient of
the oath, and one of the three other occurrences of this verb in

38
Most recently Henderson (1987) and Sommerstein (1990). A comic passage describing offerings (to
Aphrodite et al.) with numerous obscenities is Plato Com. Phaon fr. 188 PCG; see also Henderson
(1991:177–8).
39
Stengel (1914); (1924:319–21); Burkert (1983:36; and cf. 68–9). But this is not uncontroversial:
Faraone (1993:68 n.37).
40
Henderson (1991:126–7 (cf. 248), 165).
41
He refers to Eccl. 847 and 996 (see his commentary). Cf. E. Med. 679.
42
Ar. Plut. 1024; Hermipp. fr. 9, Pherecr. fr. 186; Phryn. fr. 34.
234 richard seaford
Aristophanes is of Dikaiopolis’ request to the girls to grasp his penis (Ach.
1217).
204–6. lysistrata: Mistress Persuasion (Πειθώ) and loving (φιλοτησία) cup,
receive the σφάγια with good will for the women.
kalonike: Of good colour is the blood and it spurts out (ἀποπυτίζει)
nicely.
Πειθώ ‘was a divinity whose province was the alluring power of sexual
love’,43 and φιλοτήσιος in its only occurrence in Homer refers to sex (Od.
11.246). The comment of Kalonike contains precisely what we earlier
supposed was ‘favourable’ about sacrificial blood, good colour and a nice
flow. But ἀποπυτίζει completes the series of double entendres by evoking
ejaculation.
This last point may seem unlikely, unless we take note of the tragic topos
in which the outpouring of blood evokes ejaculation. This occurs in
Sophocles’ Antigone and Oedipus Tyrannus, but the instance most relevant
to our theme is from Aeschylus’ Agamemnon. Klutaimestra proclaims that
Agamemnon (1388–92)
sets in motion44 his spirit as he lies there, and panting out a sharp eruption45
of blood, he strikes me with a dark shower of gory liquid;46 and I rejoiced no
less than the sown crop rejoices in the Zeus-given γάνος (invigorating
brightness, of rain) when the sheath is giving birth to the ear.
That there is an erotic meaning to this I have argued elsewhere.47 Here my
emphasis is on the immediately preceding lines, in which Klutaimestra
describes her third blow as the third libation48 for Zeus beneath the earth.49

43
Buxton (1982:31), who goes on to provide much evidence for this claim, as well as for ‘wider
associations’.
44
ὁρμαίνει (mss.); the emendation ὀρυγάνει ‘belch out’ has been widely accepted (though see
Thomson (1966) on this passage) because the erotic meaning has been universally missed. The
satyrs at A. Dikt. 823 γά]μον ὀρμαίνωμεν are referring to sex, as they make clear in the following
lines.
45
σφάγην (mss) is problematic. Read ῥαγὴν (dubitanter Fraenkel 1950), which does in fact cohere
with the erotic meaning missed by Fraenkel: cf. S. OT 1278 ἔρρωγεν; West (1981:68).
46
δρόσος, which can refer to various kinds of liquid, including semen – if correctly restored at
Callimachus fr. 260.19 Pfeiffer = fr.70.4 Hollis (1990); Hollis is much less confident than Pfeiffer
about the supplement. It refers to some form of sexual liquid at Ar. Nub. 978 (see Dover on this
passage), Eq. 1285.
47
Seaford (1987:121). For a wide-ranging account of sexuality in sacrificial ritual, see Burkert
(1983:58–72).
48
Also 1395 ἐπισπένδειν νεκρῶι.
49
For this practice, see Aesch. fr.55; schol. Pind. Isthm. 6.10a; Schol. Pl. Phil. 66d; Pollux Onom. 6.15;
Thomson (1966) on Aesch. Ag. 246–7 and Eum. 759–60.
 Sacrifice in Drama: The Flow of Liquids 235
Elsewhere in the play the killing of Agamemnon is described as a sacrifice.50
Here the imagined libation is inevitably associated with the outpouring of
blood, which is itself assimilated to fertilising rain and semen. Elsewhere in
tragedy fertilising rain is associated with semen (Aesch. fr. 44) and indeed
with blood and semen (Aesch. Seven 929–41 and S. OT 1275–81).

50
1118, 1443, 1504; cf. 1037–8, 1056–7, 1278, 1298, 1310.
p a r t iiii
Margins
 chapter 10

Animal Sacrifice in Hittite Anatolia

Alice Mouton

Concerning sacrifice in ancient Mesopotamia, Wilfred G. Lambert wrote

in 1993: ‘Like “fertility” [the term “sacrifice”] is so loaded and ambiguous
a term that it is best not to use it. In modern usage “sacrifice” is too
dependent on Biblical institutions and concepts to be a suitable vehicle to
express ancient Mesopotamian practices.’1 This thought echoes that of
Marcel Detienne in the famous book La cuisine du sacrifice en pays grec.2
Although it is essential, from a methodological point of view, to do and
then to undo conceptual models in order to make them more accurate,3
I do not think that it is necessary to permanently remove the term ‘sacrifice’
from the Near Eastern scholar’s vocabulary. I believe that establishing
a preliminary definition of this word will be sufficient to render it an
efficient tool.
For the definition of sacrifice that I will presuppose for the study of the
Hittite sources, I will first refer to Alfred Marx’s contribution to the book
La cuisine et l’autel.4 According to this author, sacrifice is essentially an
offering which can be split into three successive steps: (1) a ‘negative phase
of the gift’ (‘phase négative du don’) corresponding to renouncement of
property from the person for whose benefit the ritual is conducted (Henri
Hubert and Marcel Mauss’s5 ‘sacrifiant’, referred to in Hittite texts as ‘the
lord of the ritual’ to designate the person who commissions the ritual);
(2) destruction or at least alteration of the offering. In the case of animal
sacrifice, this phase is represented by the killing of the sacrificial victim.
The killing renders this renouncement permanent; (3) a ‘positive phase of

1
Lambert (1993: 191).
2
Detienne (1989: 20 (= id.1979:35)): ‘the notion of sacrifice is indeed a category of thought of
yesterday, conceived of as arbitrarily as totemism – decried earlier by Lévi-Strauss – both because
it gathers into one artificial type elements taken from here and there in the symbolic fabric of
societies, and because it reveals the surprising power of annexation that Christianity still subtly
exercises on the thought of these historians and sociologists who were convinced they were inventing
a new science’.
3 4 5
Pace Grottanelli (1988). Marx (2005: 6). Hubert and Mauss (1899).

239
240 al i c e mout on
the gift’ (‘phase positive du don’), namely transmission of the property to
a divine recipient.6 So sacrifice can be distinguished from ritual killing by
its character of gift to a deity. We shall specify that, in Hittite Anatolia, this
definition actually includes some substitution rituals described in the texts,
as during these rituals the animal substitute is explicitly offered to a deity.
During each sacrifice, there are four key participants (‘actants’, as
Louis Marie Chauvet7 puts it): (1) the person for whom the sacrifice is
performed (‘sacrifiant’) who is designated in the Hittite sources by the
expression ‘lord of the ritual’ for the probable meaning of ‘sacrifice
sponsor’.8 During cultic festivals and even during most of the so-called
‘magical’ or healing rituals, this person is the Hittite king; (2) the person
who actually performs the sacrifice (‘sacrificateur’). In the Hittite world,
this person is a ritual expert who is the intermediary between the ritual
sponsor and the deity; (3) the sacrificed object that should belong to the
ritual sponsor; and (4) the recipient of the sacrifice who is generally
a deity or a royal ancestor in the Hittite context.
Although many hittitological publications have explored some aspects
of Hittite sacrifice, no systematic analysis of the whole Hittite material has
been made.9 I am working on writing that synthesis, and I still have a lot to
do to complete my task. No synthesis has been undertaken because the
philological work, namely transliteration and translation of the texts, is not
yet finished. Secondly, a selection of texts should be made in order to study
Hittite sacrifice because the whole corpus is much too big to be studied in
its entirety, at least in one lifetime. This chapter is intended as a prelimin-
ary contribution on Hittite sacrifice, on the basis of my study of more than
seventy texts in context, which can be regarded as a representative sample.
These texts are mainly ritual prescriptions and festival texts found in the
Hittite capital city, Hattuša. They date from the sixteenth to the end of the
thirteenth century bc and are in the shape of clay tablets written in cunei-
form writing. These tablets were stored in temple libraries and palatial
archives of the Hittite capital city. One should note that in Hittite
Anatolia, animal sacrifice basically occurs in every ritual context we can
think of: purification, exorcism, or any other curative ritual context, but
also cultic contexts such as state festivals. It is actually quite rare to find

6
As far as I know, there is no Hittite textual evidence of the ritualized process of slaughter, contrary to
what Detienne (1989) and Durand (1989a) mentioned for ancient Greece.
7 8
Chauvet (1994: 280–4). On this expression, see del Monte (1973: 172–3).
9
The still unpublished doctoral dissertation of Billie Jean Collins (Collins (1989)) fills part of this gap.
See also Kühne (1993). Finally, one may refer to McMahon (2003), who tests René Girard’s (Girard
(1972)) theories of the violent origin of sacrifice on the Hittite sources.
 Animal Sacrifice in Hittite Anatolia 241
a Hittite ritual text without an animal sacrifice being performed. All the
stages of the sacrificial process are never described in detail in the Hittite
texts. The phases which are referred to, although most of the time very
briefly, are: (1) the consecration of the animal, which is performed by
purification and dedication of the animal to the god; (2) the ritual slaugh-
ter, which is never very much emphasized in the Hittite texts; (3) the
dismemberment of the body of the animal corpse: this is also not well
attested in the texts, usually being mentioned in a single sentence without
any detail; (4) if relevant, the cooking of the sacrificial meat cuts: the
cooking technique seems to depend on the nature of the meat cut, and
in some places, the meat might remain raw; (5) the placement of the meat
cuts on the divine table: this stage is sometimes the only one mentioned by
the texts. It clearly is the most important phase of Hittite animal sacrifice,
which shows that the offering of the sacrificial meat is the main issue in the
eyes of the Hittites; (6) human consumption of the divine leftovers.
As a hittitologist, I hope that this description of Hittite practices will
broaden the horizons in the study of Greek religion, as each culture should
not be studied in isolation.
As the Africanist Jean Pouillon noticed,10 one should wonder whether
the word ‘sacrifice’ has an exact equivalent in the vernacular language that
we study. In the case of Hittite language, the most frequently utilized term
in clear connection with sacrifice is not a noun but a verb. It is the verb
šipant- whose filiation with Greek spendô has been noticed since the very
beginning of hittitology. šipant- first means ‘to pour (a liquid) as a libation’.
When it is used in the context of animal sacrifice, it may also designate the
action of making the animal’s blood flow down.11 This observation is quite
interesting when we consider that the action of cutting the animal’s throat
and collecting its blood is only seldom described in the Hittite texts.12
In my view, this can be explained by the fact that the experts, for whom the
ritual prescriptions were originally written down, did not need to read all
the details about the way of killing the animal. I believe this part of the
ritual did not even need to be mentioned in the texts because it was obvious
and very well known by the practitioners or butchers in charge of it.
In some cases, however, the way to treat the animal’s blood was specified.

10
Pouillon (1987: 233).
11
It seems that the meaning of Hittite šipant- is analogous to the Akkadian verb naqūm ‘to sacrifice’
which also means in the first place ‘to pour, to pour a libation’: see Lambert (1993: 195) who sees –
mistakenly, in my opinion – in the use of naqūm a metaphoric meaning whenever it designated
animal sacrifice. On the connotations of šipant-, see also Lebrun (1993: 226).
12
See Kühne (1986).
242 al i c e mout on
One should sometimes let the blood flow down on the floor.13 In other
cases, on the contrary, the blood is collected in a vessel.14
The second important concept in Hittite sacrifice seems to be the ‘gift
giving’ notion. Beside its meaning ‘to pour a libation, to pour the sacrificial
animal’s blood’, the Hittite verb šipant- can also designate the action of
‘dedicating, making an offering’.15 This is clear from the texts in which the
use of this verb precedes the actual killing of the victim. In these contexts,
killing is usually designated by the verbs ku(e)n- ‘to kill’, hu(e)k- ‘to
slaughter,’ or hatt(a)- ‘to slit the throat(?)’. So it seems that, in Hittite
Anatolia, animal sacrifice should be inserted into the broader ensemble of
food offerings. A semantic distinction between ‘sacrifice’ and ‘offering’
does not seem necessary in this context. The key gesture of Hittite animal
sacrifice is clearly the placement of the sacrificial meat cuts on the divine
table. The texts do not specify how the Hittites believed their gods were
eating these food offerings, but I believe that their placement on the divine
table was viewed as a gesture symbolizing the divine consumption in itself.
The meat cuts might have stayed overnight on the table and then at least
part of them might have been eaten by the human participants in the
ceremony the day after.
In this overview of Hittite sacrificial practices, I will deal with the
following questions: (1) Which animal species are sacrificed?; (2) What
are the cuts of sacrificial meat and how are they treated?; and (3) In which
contexts does sacrifice take place?
But before that, I shall briefly explain how we understand Hittite
Anatolia. According to linguistic testimony, the cultural spheres com-
prised in this entity are: (1) the Hattian area, which was the heartland of
the Hittite kingdom, where the main capital, Hattuša was located. Hattic
is not an Indo-European language, maybe belonging to the group of
Caucasic languages; (2) the region of Kaneš/Neša, the city which gave its
name to the Hittite language (called nešili in the texts); (3) the Luwian
area. Luwian is an Indo-European language closely related to Hittite;
(4) the Hurrian sphere, mainly located in Syria, comprises southern
Anatolia. Hurrian is an agglutinating language related, according to
linguists, to Caucasic languages; (5) Kizzuwatna, which partly belongs
to the Hurrian cultural sphere, while the other part was inhabited by
a Luwian-speaking population. This region is the main zone through
which Syro-Mesopotamian cultural patterns reached Hittite Anatolia;
(6) Pala, which had its own Indo-European language called Palaic; and

13 14 15
Mouton (2004c: n°9). Kühne (1986: 95–6). Kühne (1986: 86 n. 2).
 Animal Sacrifice in Hittite Anatolia 243
(7) northern Anatolia, which was inhabited by semi-nomadic people
called Gašgas. Their language is still unknown.
Since the sacrificial traditions belonging to Nešili, Palaic, and Gašga
regions are very little documented, if at all, we are obliged to focus only on
the other regions I have mentioned. The Luwian sphere is clearly the
closest to ancient Greece culturally speaking. It shares several important
features with it: the importance of augury and the ritual use of adorned
scapegoats, for instance.

Which Animal Species Were Sacrificed?

In his huge synthesis on Hittite religion, Volkert Haas enumerates the
animal species that were sacrificed according to the texts (the list is
organized from the most frequent to the least frequent):16 ovidae, capridae,
bovidae, pig, dog, certain birds, fish, donkeys, and horses (in purification
rituals or during the royal funerary ritual).17 The ritualized use of wild
animals is less frequent.18 He also mentions gazelle, deer (in ritualized
hunting),19 bear, wild boar, leopard, hare, snake, and a kind of mouse (as
a ritual substitute and more specifically as a ‘scapegoat’, but also as a food
offering in the same ritual).20
Some of these animals clearly stand for food offerings whereas others
were rather ritual substitutes and were not obligatorily eaten by the gods.
However, the distinction between food offering and substitute is not
always very big: some substitutes are killed and offered to the gods in
order to be – at least symbolically – eaten by them.21 Furthermore, we shall
imagine that the choice of animal species is probably made according to the
local tradition on the one hand and to the ritual context on the other.
Finally, I must specify that, in ancient Anatolia, the ritual killing of wild
animals does not correspond to what I call ‘sacrifice’ because they do not

16
Mentions of these animals have been listed in Ertem (1965) and then in Akdoğan (1990) and
Akdoğan (1993). See also Haas (1994: 646–9).
17
Collins (2002: 323 (with bibliography)). See also Lebrun (1993: 230–1).
18
As I could not obtain Billie Jean Collins’s unpublished doctoral dissertation (1989), which precisely
deals with the Hittite references to wild animals, I will not develop this aspect of animal sacrifice
here.
19
There are good reasons to believe that the cultic festivals during which a ritualized hunt takes place
belong to the Hattian substrate. But this practice coexists with animal sacrifice. See Grottanelli
(1988: 18).
20
Collins (2002: 324–5) (with bibliography). Concerning the double use of this animal as substitute
and food offering, see also Christiansen (2006: 151).
21
Mouton (2004b: 93, end of n, 29).
244 al i c e mout on
belong to the ‘sacrifiant’. Therefore, I will not deal with them in this
chapter.
Ovidae are the most frequent sacrificial victims throughout Hittite
Anatolia, probably because of their low cost compared to bovidae and
the better quality of their meat compared to capridae.22 Capridae and
bovidae are the ‘second rank’ sacrificial animals on the basis of frequency.
Dogs and pigs are usually substitutes. Sacrificing birds seems to be a
southern pattern (Kizzuwatna and Syria).23 Birds, which are usually
burned, seem to be, at least in most of the cases, related to propitiation
or even expiation rituals. The complete burning out of a sacrificial animal is
frequently mentioned in Kizzuwatnian rituals,24 but it also occurs here and
there in other Anatolian regions, such as the Hittite heartland. A sequence
of a religious ceremony in honour of the Stormgod of Zippalanda is an
illustration of this statement: ‘The ritual sponsor dedicates a bull and a billy
goat to the Stormgod of Zippalanda. They burn them entirely according to
the way of Hattuša.’25 Finally, as far as fish is concerned, it seems to be also
related to the Kizzuwatnian sphere, where it is sacrificed during purifica-
tion rituals.26
As a general rule, the animal should be in good physical condition, as
a passage of the ‘Instructions to the Temple Personnel’ shows:27
Furthermore, if, at some point, you select a group [among the cattle] and if
they drive them to the gods, your lords, the cowherd and the shepherd must
go together with the group. As it [= this selected group] was selected from
the pen and the fold, thus let them bring it to the gods. Let them not divert
their use/function afterward. If, while on the road, a cowherd or a shepherd
creates a deception, and turns aside either a fattened ox or a fattened sheep,
and receives a price [for it], or if they kill it and eat it up, and they put an
emaciated one in its place, if it becomes known, it is a capital sin for them.
They have taken the god’s most desired portion. But if it does not become
known, whenever they arrive, let them take the rhyton of the god himself
from the altar and let them bring it and say: ‘If we have withheld the best
portion from the mouth of the gods for ourselves and given it to ourselves

22 23
Collins (1995: 89). Haas (1994: 658–61).
24
The most common Kizzuwatnian shape of Brandopfer is the ambašši ritual, which is associated with
the keldi ritual. See Schwemer (1995). The question asked by Bergquist (1993: 40–1) may, thus, be
considered as answered.
25
KUB 20.96 iv 3–6, mentioned by Archi (1979: 198 n. 5) and edited by Popko (1994: 194–5): t–ašta
BELU 1 GU4.MAH 1 UDU.ŠIR ANA DU URUzipalanda šipanti t–aš URUhattušaš iwar arha
warnuwanzi.
26
Collins (2002: 326) (with bibliography).
27
This text dating from the thirteenth century bc describes the duties of the Hittite temple personnel
members. Therefore, they reflect the contemporaneous Hittite state cult practices.
 Animal Sacrifice in Hittite Anatolia 245
for our own desire, or if we have sold it or exchanged it, or accepted
a payment for ourselves and put an emaciated one in its place, you, god,
pursue us together with our wives and children because of your desired
portion.’28
In the context of animal sacrifice, the sex of the animal is rarely specified.
In a passage describing a seasonal festival called AN.TAH.ŠUM, a male
sheep and a fattened cow are offered to the god Ea.29 The same offering is
given to the goddess Ištar of Niniveh during another festival.30 In a text
listing Hurrian deities, the sacrifice of a bull is performed in honour of the
goddess Hepat. But it is interesting to notice that a duplicate of this tablet
prescribes the sacrifice of a cow instead of the bull.31 So it seems clear
enough that the sex of the sacrificial victim is not determined by the sex of
the divine recipient, despite the conclusions of some scholars.32 When the
animal is sacrificed as a substitute, its sex is usually the same as the one of
the ‘sacrifiant’, a point to which we will return.
The animal’s colour may be significant in some contexts. In exorcism
rituals, for instance, animals that are usually used as substitutes or even
scapegoats (Hittite nakkušši) are often black. In other rituals, however, it is
explicitly specified that colour is unimportant.33
As far as the age of the sacrificial victim is concerned, it is only very rarely
mentioned. Except for the use of the sumerogram SILA4 for ‘lamb’ instead

28
KUB 13.4 and dupl. iv 56–77 (McMahon (1997: 221) and Süel (1985)): anda–ma–ašta mān karšattar
kuwapi karašteni n–at DINGIRMEŠ–aš ANA ENMEŠ–KUNU ūnnanzi nu karšadda[(ni)] GAM-an
(var. kattan) LÚSIPA.GU4 LÚSIPA.UDU–ya iyantaru n–at–šan haliyaz ašaunaz mahhan karšan
n–at–kan DINGIRMEŠ–aš QATAMMA anda arnuwandu EGIR.KASKAL–NI–ma–at–kan lē
wahnuškanzi mān–ma–kan ŠÀ KASKAL–NI LÚSIPA.GU4 našma LÚSIPA.UDU maršatar kuiški
iyazi n–ašta naššu GU4.ŠE našma UDU.ŠE wahnuzi nu–za–kan happar šarā dāi našma–an–zan–kan
kuenzi n–an arha adanzi pedi–(š)ši–ma maklantan tarnanzi n–at išduwāri nu–šmaš–at SAG.DU-aš
waštul DINGIRMEŠ–aš–kan ZI-aš–šaš (var. ZI–NI) šanezzin : zūwan dāer mān–ma–at UL–ma (var.
ŪL–ma) išduwāri n–at kuedani mēhūni aranzi n–ašta BIBRU DINGIRLIM ZITI GIŠištana<(n)>az
GAM (var. katta) dandu nu–za–kan anda kiššan pēdandu mān–wa–kan DINGIRMEŠ–aš šanezzin:
zūwan KAxU-az parā anzāš hūittiyauen nu–war–a(n)–naš–an anzel ZI–NI piyauēn naš
ma–wa–naš–an uššaniyauēn našma–war–an–kan wahnummen nu–wa–na[š] happar dāuēn pedi–(š)š
i–ma–wa maklandan tarnaummen nu–wa–naš zik DINGIRLUM tuel ZI-aš : zūwa<(š)> šer QADU
DAMMEŠ–NI DUMUMEŠ–NI parheški.
29
Mouton (2004c: n°1). 30 Mouton (2004c: n°16). 31 Mouton (2007: n°64).
32
See Haas (1994: 647), who writes: ‘Zumeist erhalten die Götter die männlichen und die Göttinnen
die weiblichen Tiere : Stier und Widder sind spezifische Opfer für den Wettergott, während Hebat
oder die Sonnengöttin eine Kuh bevorzugen.’
33
Ritual of Ašhella (KUB 9.32 and duplicates i 4–14: Dinçol (1985: 12–13): GIM-an U4.KAM-za nekuz
mehūni kišari nu kuēš kuēš ENMEŠ KARAŠ hūmanteš nu–za hūmanza UDU.ŠIR handaizzi UDU.
ŠIR–ma mān hargaēš mān dankuwaēš ŪL kuitki duggāri ‘When, on that day, night falls, whoever the
chiefs of the army [are], each [of them] prepared a billy goat. [Those] billy goats, whether they are
white or dark colored, it does not matter.’ The continuation of texts shows clearly that those billy
goats are sacrificed to the invoked deity.
246 al i c e mout on
of the usual UDU ‘sheep’, some texts indicate that one should use a female
animal ‘which has not yet known mating’. However, in the context of
substitution rituals, the situation is different: many of them require the use
of a young animal (sumerogram TUR ‘small, child’), usually a puppy and/
or a piglet. This specification has been discussed by several hittitologists,34
but I will not dwell on it here.

What Are the Sacrificial Meat Cuts and How Are They Treated?35
Hittite religious texts call the sacrificial meat cuts šuppa ‘sacred/consecrated
[meat cuts]’. After having examined the word šuppa in a representative
sample of texts, it seems to me that almost all parts of the animal body
could be used as a food offering to the gods, including skin, fat, and bones.
Among them, we notice the liver, the heart, the ribs, the breast, the head,
etc.36 The first two organs, namely the liver and the heart, clearly have
a special status among the šuppa. The main proof is the way they are
treated, as we shall see later on. The lung, which, according to Jean-Louis
Durand,37 is anatomically connected to the heart and liver, is almost never
mentioned as a food offering.38
Before they are deposited in front of the divine effigy, the consecrated
meat cuts can be treated mainly in three different ways: (1) they can be
deposited as raw meat on the offering table; (2) they can be ‘cooked in a pot’,
that is, probably cooked in a similar way to a stew; or (3) they can be roasted
in the happina-, a kind of hearth (texts also call this technique ‘fire cooking’).
Choosing not to cook the meat seems to be a cultural pattern, as it is
mainly documented for the Hattian region.39 The choice between pot
cooking and happina- cooking seemingly depends on the nature of the
meat cuts themselves. Indeed, the two cooking techniques are often
combined within the same religious ceremony. When this is the case, we
notice that the liver and heart are almost always distinguished from the

34
See Collins (1990): this author suggests that puppies were otherwise valueless and therefore used in
ritual contexts.
35
See Mouton (2007). 36 For more detail, see Mouton (2004c) and Mouton (2005).
37
Durand (1989a: 95 (= id. (1979:143)).
38
Mouton (2004c: n°29): n–ašta ANA UDU U[Z]Ušuppa UZUGABA UZUZAG.LU UZUauli parku
haštāi UZUHĀŠĪ UZUNÍG.GIG n–at–kan ANA DUGÚTUL piššiyazzi ‘[He/she takes] the šuppas of
the sheep, namely the chest, the shoulder, the auli-, the “pure bone”, the lung (and) the liver. He/she
throws them into the pot.’ This text is the only testimony that I could find of the insertion of the
lung among the šuppa. This is not the only original feature of the text, since the liver is cooked in
a pot, which is also unusual.
39
See Mouton (2008a).
 Animal Sacrifice in Hittite Anatolia 247
other body parts by the way they are cooked: they are roasted whereas all
the other šuppa are cooked in a pot. Behind this differentiated treatment of
the meat cuts, which reminds us of the ancient Greek material,40 seems to
be a different conception of these two groups of body parts.
One may think that the first group, represented by the liver and the
heart, was considered to be the holiest parts of the animal body. As heirs of
the Babylonian tradition, Hittites conceived of the liver as a very propitious
medium for divine messages (hepatoscopy). A text describing a religious
festival in honour of the goddess Hepat testifies that the liver of the
sacrificial animal can be used for divination before being placed on the
offering table.41 As far as the heart is concerned, it is clearly a vital organ of
the animal. Volkert Haas suggests that both the liver and the heart were
regarded as sacred because of the blood they contained,42 which is plausible
because the taboo character of blood is well documented in Hittite texts.
The same scholar43 also assumed that the pot cooking was related to human
meat consumption, contrary to the happina- cooking. But several texts
actually contradict this interpretation, as, for instance, a passage of an AZU
ritual saying: ‘When these šuppa are cooked in a pot, one removes them
from the pot. § One places them on the sacrificial table. One places (also)
[the šuppa] from the happina- on the sacrificial table.’44
In Hittite Anatolia, consecration of the sacrificial meat and its deposi-
tion in front of a deity do not imply an interdiction for the human
participants to eat them. Texts mention prohibitions on some divine
foods, and some šuppa belong to this category, but the festival and ritual
texts also make clear that this prohibition did not involve all the šuppa.
Indeed, during many religious ceremonies, men are described eating the
consecrated meat, and this practice is apparently customary. We should

40
Detienne (1979: 20): ‘Le rituel insiste sur l’opposition entre les viscères et les chairs de consomma-
tion, de deux manières: par l’ordre dans le temps et par les modalités de cuisson. Les viscères sont
rôtis à la broche, dans la première phase du sacrifice, et mangés sur place à proximité de l’autel par le
cercle étroit de ceux qui participent pleinement au sacrifice, tandis que les quartiers de viande, mis à
bouillir dans le chaudron, sont destinés soit à un banquet plus large, soit à des distributions parfois
lointaines. Quant aux entrailles, accommodées en saucisses et en boudins, elles sont reléguées en
lisière du repas sacrificiel.’ One may also think of the brahmanic treatment of the heart that is
roasted, whereas the other meat cuts are cooked together in a pot (Malamoud (1989: 213)).
41
Mouton (2004c: n°15): nu–(š)šan BEL SÍSKUR ANA UDU QATAM [dāi] nu–(š)ši mān ZI–ŠU nu
UZU
NÍG.GIG uē[kzi] man–ši ZI–ŠU–ma nu UZUNÍG.GIG U[L uēkzi] ‘The ritual sponsor [places]
his hand on the sheep. If [it is] his desire, he ex[amines] the liver, but if his desire [is otherwise], he
does not [examine] the liver.’
42
Haas (1994: 655): ‘in erster Linie also das Blut und die blutreichsten Organe Herz und Leber’.
43
Haas (1994: 658).
44
Mouton (2004c: n°14): mahhan kē DUGÚTUL UZUšuppa ari n–at–kan IŠTU DUGÚTUL šarā danzi
§ n–at–šan ŠA SÍSKUR GIŠBANŠUR-i tianzi happinaš [šuppa?] ŠA SÍSKUR GIŠBANŠUR-i tianzi.
248 al i c e mout on
however emphasize the fact that human consumption of the liver and heart
is very seldom mentioned.45
Some hittitologists have interpreted human consumption of the šuppa as
a communion with the divine.46 I would be careful with this specific
notion, as no text can lead us to affirm that such a concept actually existed
in Hittite Anatolia.47 However, there is no doubt that, in the Hittite view,
mortals taking part in a religious ceremony are enjoying, or at least have at
one time enjoyed, commensality with gods. This is explicitly mentioned in
a mythological narration inserted into a therapeutic ritual text: ‘The ritual
practitioner performs for the first time a conjuration [in front of] the Sun
god in the following way: “[You,] Sun god, you have organized a festival.
You have invited all the gods [and you have also invited] all the mortals.”’48

In Which Contexts Does Sacrifice Take Place?

In the context of religious festivals, animal sacrifice is very often the
departure point of a ritual banquet. The persons taking part in it form
the ‘great assembly’ (šalli aššeššar) and apparently come from the social elite
of the kingdom:49 members of the royal family, high officials of the palace
institution, priests, etc. ‘Ritual experts’ may also be invited whenever they
are necessary for the ritual process. Unfortunately, these festival texts do
not tell us how the sacrificial meat was distributed to the human partici-
pants. We know how significant this distribution can be for the social
organization of a community.50 For filling this gap in the available

45
See, for instance, Mouton (2005: n°41): apē–ma UZUNÍG.GIGHÁ U 1 NINDA ān 1 NINDA
LABKU–ya arha paršiya[nzi] nu hūmantiya parā pianzi n–at adanzi ‘One breaks into pieces the
entire livers, one warm bread and one fresh bread. One passes [them] over to everyone and they eat
them.’
46
Mazoyer (2002: 86): ‘Dans la suite du rituel, on manipulait les foies et les cœurs puis on les
mangeait. On entrait ainsi en relation directe avec la divinité. Il n’y avait rien de sacrilège dans
l’accaparement de la nourriture des dieux par les hommes. En se nourrissant de la nourriture des
dieux les hommes s’assimilaient à ceux-ci, ils s’élevaient au-dessus de leur condition d’homme et
vivaient en osmose avec les divinités.’
47
The main argument that some scholars find in favour of a Hittite communion between the gods and
their human servants is the expression traditionally rendered as ‘to drink a god’. However, recent
studies have shown that this expression should be interpreted as an abbreviation for ‘to drink (in
honor of) a god, to make a toast’. See, among others, Soysal (2008).
48
KBo 11.14 and duplicates i 23–5 (Ünal (1996: 18–19 and 28): nu IGI-zi palši uddanaš EN-aš DUTU-
i kišan hūkzi § DUTU-uš–za EZEN4–an DÙ-at nu–za dapiuš DINGIRMEŠ-u[š] halzāiš? [nu–z]
a hūmandan DUMU.LÚ.ULU19.LU-an halzāiš?. See also Ünal (1996: 51–2) for a commentary and
a parallel text.
49
Archi (1979: 204–9); Ünal (1987–90: 268) and Collins (1995: 86–7).
50
Detienne (1979: 23). For an example of social hierarchy reflected by the dispatching of sacrificial
meat cuts, see, for example, McEwan (1983: 188–91).
 Animal Sacrifice in Hittite Anatolia 249
documentation, one should collect the data that are spread through all the
lists of offerings and cultic inventories related to religious festivals. But this
time-consuming task has not been undertaken yet.51
Divine consumption of the šuppa seems to be a symbolic event that does
not preclude the human participants from eating them. Louise Bruit
Zaidman’s thoughts are relevant: she stated, ‘c’est la piété du geste d’offrande
ou d’abandon qui est décisive, [plus que] le sort ultérieur des biens
abandonnés’.52 Hittite texts do not specify how the gods eat the food they
receive, but a passage of a ritual prescription says: ‘The šuppa spend the night
in front of the deity but the day after I remove them and one eats (them)
entirely.’53 By the same logic, another passage indicates the following:
‘The šuppa which had been deposited in front of the altar, the day after,
priests take them and cook (them) in the temple.’54 Thus, a long exhibition
of the šuppa on the offering table, which is itself placed in front of the divine
effigy, is, in most of the Anatolian regions, sufficient to transmit these šuppa
to the god. That means that roasting the liver and the heart in the happina- is
not supposed to transfer them into the divine realm, contrary to what has
been suggested for Classical sources.55 In Hittite Anatolia, roasting the
sacrificial meat is a way to cook it, but nothing more.
There are different reasons to use animal sacrifice as a food offering. One
of its functions which is well documented is propitiation.56 A fragment of
text contains the following incantation: ‘Ordinary bread is broken. He/she
places one loaf of ordinary bread [on] the floor and recites [thus]: “[You]
who are standing in front of the Sun god, speak in favour [for me] to the
Sun god!” He/she breaks two loaves of ordinary bread and places them on
the table. He/she places the liver upon it.’57 Another passage indicates:
‘Now the “lord of the ritual” is giving you an offering. Take the offering,

51 52
Taggar-Cohen (2006) does not examine this aspect. Bruit Zaidman (2005: 39).
53
Mouton (2005: n°45): nu šuppa PANI DINGIRLIM šešzi lukkadda–ma–at šarā dahhi n–e arha adanzi.
Does the exposure of the šuppas during the night take part in their consecration? Indeed, it seems
that night is a propitious time for purification and consecration rites (Mouton (2008b)).
54
Mouton (2004c: n°4: UZUšuppaHÁ kue ZAG.GAR.RA-aš peran kittat n–ez lukkatta LÚ.MEŠSANGA
danzi INA É.DINGIRLIM zanuwanzi.
55
For the Greek world, see, among other things, the lexicographic study of Casabona (1964: 334), who
writes: ‘le feu est le mode normal de transmission aux dieux’. For the Roman world, see, for example,
Briquel (2004: 136).
56
Collins (1995: 90): ‘More than simply a communion with the god, the ritual feast was a chance to
sway a god or goddess to benevolence. In these cases, the sacrifice serves to reinforce the prayer.’
57
Mouton (2004c: n°5): NINDA.GUR4.RAHÁ paršiyanda nu 1 NINDA.GUR4.RA dagan dāi nu malti
D
UTU-i kuiš peran arta nu–wa–kan DUTU-i parranda SIG5-in memiški 2 NINDA.GUR4.RAHÁ
paršiya n–aš–kan ANA GIŠBANŠUR-i dāi šer–a–ššan UZUNÍG.GIG dāi.
250 al i c e mout on
god, and become benevolent towards him. Turn your ear towards what he
is telling [you]!’58
Beside the function of food offering, animal sacrifice can also be used in
substitution rituals. Several so-called ‘magical’ techniques are used for giving
to the sacrificial victim the status of substitute. One of these techniques is
identification between the animal and its donor.59 This is particularly clear in
the choice of the animal’s sex, which is the same as that of the person who
commissions the sacrifice, as is shown, among other texts, in a purification
ritual: ‘A ušantari cow. But if [it is] a man, she [= the ritual practitioner]
prepares a bull.’60 In this precise context of substitution, ‘the exchangeability
of man and animal in sacrifice’, as Walter Burkert61 puts it, is obvious.
However, this concept cannot be generalized for all Hittite blood sacrifice.
Another technique used for turning a sacrificial victim into a substitute is
described in several ritual texts: one cuts the victim into two and places its
halves on either side of a ‘magical’ vegetal gate. In this kind of ritual, we
observe the use of human substitutes who are also cut into two halves and
deposited in a mirror configuration at either sides of the gate.62 When the
‘patients’ have crossed the ‘magical’ passage, they have clearly been purified.

Some Conclusions and Research Perspectives

Besides the need for further investigating the issues I have briefly presented
in this chapter, other questions remain unanswered. For example, we
should examine the roles of the Hittite king during sacrificial rituals.63
We should also exploit the archaeological data, namely the animal remains
and iconography. I have already checked this last aspect, but the data are
quite limited for the Hittite sphere.64

58
KBo 12.96 iv 10–14 (Collins (1995: 91)) : kāša=wa=(t)ta SÍSKUR EN SISKUR pāi nu=wa=za
DINGIRLAM SÍSKUR dā nu=wa=(š)ši=(š)šan anda aššuli nāišhut nu=(t)ta ku-it memieškizzi nu=
(š)ši GEŠTU-an parā lagān harak.
59
Malamoud (1989: 204): ‘si forte est la sympathie, la volonté d’identification qui le [= le sacrifiant]
portent vers sa victime, qu’il cherche dans son attitude un signe d’assentiment avant de l’immoler’.
Looking for divine signs in such a context is well documented in Mesopotamian divination treatises
(Starr (1983)) but it is not, as far as I know, mentioned in the Hittite corpus of texts.
60
Goetze (1938: 8–9): 1 GU4.ÁB ušantariš mān LÚ-aš–ma nu GU4.MAH handai[zzi].
61
Burkert (1983: 21). Biardeau and Malamoud (1976: 19) also mention the possibility, for the sacrificed
animal or vegetable offering, of representing the ritual sponsor.
62
Mouton (2004a: 312–14).
63
Masetti Rouault (2002) studies the Neo-Assyrian sources in which the king is both the ritual sponsor
and the person who actually performs the sacrifice. See also, in ethnology, Adler (1987).
64
For Hittite religious iconography, see van Loon (1985). An illustration of a Hittite sacrifice of a bull
is, for instance, represented on the Inandıktepe vase from the Old Hittite period (sixteenth
century bc): see Özgüç (1988). For Assyrian iconography, see Reade (2005).
 Animal Sacrifice in Hittite Anatolia 251
The Hittite texts referring to animal sacrifice do not seem to support
Walter Burkert’s homo necans theory.65 If there is any notion of violence in
Hittite religion, it appears only in some Hattian festivals. In this context,
a ritualized hunt takes place and several men wearing masks imitate the
behaviour of a wild animal (a bear for instance) while others hunt them
with bows.66 And it is important to underline the fact that, in Hittite
Anatolia, ritualized hunt and animal sacrifice not only coexist but even
represent opposing perspectives. Cristiano Grottanelli has shown this
nicely:67 the hunted animal comes from the outside world and is captured
by the man before being killed. Inversely, the sacrificed animal belongs to
the man and this latter renounces it in favour of the god.
Hittite sacrifice, bloody or not, does not seem to endorse a function
related to ritual violence. Its ‘utilitarian’ character, as Alain Caillé (among
others) puts it, seems clear:68 one gives an offering to a god with a view to
receiving from him something one desires.69 This is the famous do ut des
principle. But the nature of the demand may vary: one may seek protection
(by repelling evil, being purified, etc.), one may ask for hostile deities to
leave and this would correspond to what the africanist Luc de Heusch calls
‘disjunction between human and divine spheres’.70 In Hittite Anatolia,
sacrifice seems to be the usual way to feed the gods, since this task has been
attributed to men. A passage of the ‘Instructions to the Temple Personnel’
describes in detail the nature of the relationship between the gods and their
human servants:
[Are] the spirit of man and god[’s one] somehow different? No! Is that so as
far as [this matter is concerned]? No! [Their] spirit [is] one. When the
servant stands before his master, he [is] washed and he has clothed [himself]
in clean [clothes]. He gives him [= his master] either to eat or to drink. Since
this [man’s] master eats and drinks, [in] his spirit he [is] relaxed. He
becomes indebted to him. But if, at some point, [the servant] is negligent,
is [his master] not irritated? Is the spirit of the god somehow different? If the
servant at some point angers his master, either one kills him, or one injures
his nose, eyes, [and] ears. Or he [= the master] [will sei]ze him, [and] his
wife, his children, his brother, his sister, his in-laws, his family, his male or

65
Burkert (1983).
66
Collins (2002: 328) (with bibliography). See also Pecchioli Daddi (1987). These ritual sequences
have been interpreted by some scholars as remains of a prehistoric totemism (Jakob-Rost (1966:
420–2)). However, we do know how carefully the notion of totemism should be used when studying
ancient religions.
67 68
Grottanelli (1988: 18). See also Caillé (1995).
69
For the importance of the ritual sponsor’s wish, see Herrenschmidt (1995).
70
de Heusch (1986).
252 al i c e mout on
female slave. Does one only blame him, does one not do anything [else] to
him? If ever he dies, he does not die alone but his family [is] also included
with him. If, however, someone angers the spirit of a god, does the god
avenge [his spirit] [only] on him? Does he not avenge it from his wife, [his
children], his descendants, his family, his male and female servants, his
cattle, his sheep and his grain? He destroys him utterly. [So] be extremely
mindful in a matter pertaining to a god.71
One of the key sentences in this passage is the notion of obligation
linking the deity: n=at=ši=kan anda [t]amenkiškitta (literally ‘it [= the god’s
spirit] is linked to him [the mortal servant]’). The god becomes indebted to
the man who took care of him. This aspect echoes Marcel Mauss’s sugges-
tions on the ‘contractual’ character of sacrifice:72 Hittite sacrifice is mainly
a way for human beings to oblige the gods to interfere in their favour.73

71
Süel (1985) and McMahon (1997: 217–18) (KUB 13.4 i 21’–38’ – diverging translation): UN-aš
DINGIRMEŠ-aš–(š)a ZI-anza tamāiš kuiški UL [k]ī–pat kuit UL ZI-anza–ma 1-aš–pat ÌR–ŠU
kuwapi ANA EN–ŠU peran šarā artari n–aš warpanza nu parkuwaya waššan harzi [n]u–(š)ši naššu
adanna peškizzi našma–(š)ši akuwanna peškizzi nu–za apāš EN–ŠU azzikkizzi akkuškizzi kuit n–aš
ZI-an arha lānza n–at–ši–kan anda [t]amenkiškitta mān–aš anda–ma kuwapi IGI-wannanza n–aš–
kan UL : hanhaniy[a]i ZI DINGIRLIM–ma tamāiš kuiški nu–kan mān ÌR–ŠU kuwapi EN–ŠU
TUKU.TUKU-nuzi n–an–kan naššu kunanzi našma–[k]an KIR14–ŠU IGIHÁ– [Š]U GEŠTUHÁ–
ŠU idālaūhhanzi našma–an–zan–k[a]n DAM–ŠU DUMUMEŠ–[Š]U ŠEŠ–ŠU NIN–ŠU
LÚ
kainaš MÁŠ–ŠU naššu ÌR–[ŠU] našma GÉME–ŠU-aš [IS*A]BAT n–ašta parranda halzianzi–
pat n–an UL [k]uitki DÙ-anzi mān–aš aki–ya kuwapi n–aš UL 1-aš aki MÁŠ–ŠU–ma–(š)ši tettiyan–
pat § mān–ma–ašta ZITUM DINGIRL[IM kui]š TUKU.TUKU-yanuzi n–at–kan DINGIRLIM
apēdani–[pat 1]-edani anda ša[nah]zi UL–at–kan ANA DAM–ŠU [DUMU–ŠU NUM]
UN–ŠU MÁŠ–ŠU ÌRMEŠ–Š[(U GÉM)]EMEŠ–ŠU GU4HÁ–ŠU UDUMEŠ–ŠU halkit– (t)a an[da
ša]nahzi n–an–kan h[ū]mandaz harnikzi nu–za ANA INIM [DINGIRLIM me]kki marri nah[hant]eš
ēšten.
72
Mauss (1970: 304–5).
73
See also Masquelier (1994: 22): ‘Quelle que soit sa finalité, l’interaction sacrificielle des vivants et des
Puissances apparaît comme chargée de contraintes et d’obligations mutuelles – relevant d’un code
particulier des bonnes manières de conduite. Mais pour beaucoup d’interprètes l’offrande/immola-
tion serait avant tout la réponse à une exigence, une injonction des Puissances, bien plutôt qu’un
acte spontané; de telle sorte qu’il en incombe souvent à celui qui fait l’offrande (ou sacrifie) de
persuader les Puissances-destinataires de son bon droit.’
 chapter 11

The Reception of Egyptian Animal Sacrifice in Greek

Writers: Ethnic Stereotyping
or Transcultural Discourse?*
Ian Rutherford

Herodotus, like other Greek writers, seems to presuppose that animal

sacrifice is one of the great constants of religion, along with the recognition
of the gods themselves. All peoples have it in some form: not just the Greeks,
but the Scythians (4.61–2), the Persians (1.131–2), the Libyans (4.188), and the
Egyptians too (2.38–9).1 But the basic rite is manifested differently in
different cultures. In many cases, it is impossible to cross-check what the
Greeks say about the ritual practice of the other culture because we lack
adequate sources. An exception here is Egypt, where the sources for animal
offerings are plentiful, although often difficult to interpret.2 My aim in this
chapter is to compare them with the Greek reception of Egyptian animal
sacrifice, and thus to get a sense of how accurate the Greek accounts were.
There is no doubt that the ritual killing of animals was an important part
of Egyptian religion. Much of this is not particularly close to a sacrifice as
we know it from Greco-Roman religion.3 One has only to think of the
well-known Opening of the Mouth ceremony from Egyptian funerary
ritual which included the touching of the severed forelimb of an animal
against a mummy or a statue, apparently as a way of transferring the life
force.4 Equally, it seems to have been Egyptian practice for wild animals,
such as the hippopotamus, to be killed in the course of activities that

* Earlier versions of this chapter were given as papers at Kent and UCL; thanks to the audiences on
those occasions. Also to David Frankfurter and Catherine Bouanich.
1
On the Scythians and in general, see Hartog (1988:173–92), Hartog (1989); on Scythian sacrifice,
Lincoln (1991:198–208). On Zoroastrian sacrifice, see De Jong (2002). On eating and sacrifice as
a feature that characterises different societies in Greek mentality, see Vidal-Naquet (1986) and
Burkert (1990).
2
Recent general introductions to the subject include Pirelli (2002); Quack (2006); Quack (2008b);
Labrique (1993); Eyre (2002:170–4).
3
See the useful study of Frankfurter (2011).
4
On the Opening of the Mouth Ritual, see Otto (1960), Roeder (2008).

253
254 ian rutherford
resemble a royal hunt (for the porous borderline between hunt and sacrifice
in Greek religion, see Larson’s chapter in this volume (Chapter 2)).5
In Egyptian religion, offerings of animals, and indeed other offerings as
well, often had a symbolic value. Two symbolic values are particularly
common. Firstly, the animal sacrificed can represent the ‘Eye of Horus’,
stolen by Seth and now returned to Horus.6 Secondly, it can be represented
as the enemy of the gods or of the Egyptian state. The classic treatment of
the latter is by Hermann Junker, who argued three theses:7 firstly, that
sacrificial animals symbolise enemies; secondly, that they were not thought
of as food of the gods; and thirdly, that the pieces of flesh were burned,
which was meant to symbolise the destruction of the enemy. He cites
a caption accompanying a sacrificial procession of oxen and gazelles in the
temple at Dendera: ‘the enemies are slaughtered, to delight the fire-goddess
with their food’.8 As Jean Yoyotte put it:9
La doctrine pharaonique du sacrifice sanglant fait donc assumer par le roi,
gardien de l’ordre établi, la série des gestes destructeurs que requiert l’of-
frande carnée – capture, immobilisation, meurtre, démembrement, mise au
feu – et elle fait magiquement subir le contrecoup de ces gestes aux enemies
de l’ordre, tant aux dimensions du cosmos qu’à celles de la société.
Animal victims could represent mortal enemies of the pharaoh (in surviv-
ing images the horns of cattle terminate in human hands) (Fig 11.1).10 But
as the enemy of the gods, the animal is identified with Seth, the opponent
of Osiris and Horus, known in interpretatio Graeca as Typhon. Thus, in
a section of the Opening of the Mouth ritual, the slaughter of the victim is
represented as a drama with utterances by three actors (the Sem-priest, the
‘great kite’, and the ı͗ my-ḫnt or chamberlain), and the victim is addressed as
an enemy of the gods:11
1. Sem priest: ‘Giving the signal for the male Upper Egyptian bull’.
Butcher: ‘Descending on it, cutting off its foreleg, taking out its heart’.
2. Words are said to its ear by the great kite: ‘Your two lips have done that
against you. Does your mouth still open?’

5
For the relationship between hunting and sacrifice, see also Otto (1950), Pirelli (2002:122–5).
6 7
Altenmüller (1982:582); Griffiths (1970:415). Junker (1910:72).
8
Kees (1942) argued that the burning of the victims was often merely symbolic. Cf. most recently
Yoyotte (1980–1), Quack (2006), Derchain (1962:28–30), Rondot (1989:258). Labrique (1993:180)
suggests that the reason the sacrifice of domestic animals is linked to Typhon is not that the animals
themselves symbolise disorder, but rather that the violence of the sacrifice itself suggests disorder.
9
Yoyotte (1980–1:47).
10
As in a wall-painting from the Tomb of Huy (figure 7 in Leclant (1958); fig. 11.1 here).
11
Otto (1950:167), Otto (1960:73–4 =Szene 23; cf. 102–3 = Szene 43).
 The Reception of Egyptian Animal Sacrifice 255

Fig 11.1. Painting from the Tomb of Huy (Gardiner-Davies, 1926, pl. xxx).

3. ı͗ my-ḫnt: ‘I have fettered them for you, I have bought you your enemy.
He is stretched out under you, his arms being on his head. I have killed
him for you entirely: “Do not attack that god”.’
Here is another example from Greco-Roman Esna in which four red goats
(the colour red as associated with Seth) were killed in a sort of apotropaic
ritual after being identified with papyrus-labels depicting the enemy of the
king with the names Apophis and Baba, two well-known divine adversaries.12
Then they fetch four [red] goats and kill them at the four doors which are
there, by the hand of the slaughters of the house of life. Also, they make
a figure of an enemy, against whom the heart of the king is wrath, written
with red dye on a new papyrus-leaf; also the name of Apophis, the one of bad
character, and Baba, written with red dye on them, and they make them
from wax in the mouth of the red goats. And it is given in the mouth of the
red goats in the south, north, west and east. Given into the fire with
fenugreek and bryonia. Then they recite the Book of the Offerings, that
of the Overthrow of Apophis, enemy of the sun god. It is given to the water.
The representation of sacrificial victims as gods, at least of gods who threaten
the divine order, is a distinctive feature of Egyptian religion which is difficult
to parallel in other ancient cultures.13 The nearest Greek religion comes to
12
Quack (2006:76); Sauneron (1962:25); Sauneron (1968:16 no.199).
13
If animal sacrifice symbolises Seth, some have seen Osiris too as linked to animal sacrifice. Pirelli
(2002) suggests that the myth of the death, dismemberment and recreation of Osiris may have arisen
from a story of creation through primordial sacrifice, as we find it in Indian tradition. The idea of
256 ian rutherford
that is perhaps the idea of the sparagmos of the infant Dionysus in the
so-called ‘Orphic’ myth.14

The ‘eye of Horus’ symbolism of sacrificial offerings seems to be unknown

in the Greek world at any period, but Greek writers of the Roman period –
Diodorus of Sicily and Plutarch – do know that in Egyptian mentality the
sacrificial victim represents Seth. The usual explanation for this is the
influence of Manetho of Sebennytus (early third century bc), an Egyptian
priest who wrote about Egyptian history and religion in Greek,15 but other
people could have mediated between the cultures also, such as Eudoxus of
Cnidus in the fourth century.16 In the standard interpretatio Graeca the name
of Seth was ‘Typhon’, as we see in a passage of Diodorus (Bib. hist.1.88.4):
Red oxen, however, may be sacrificed, because it is thought that this was the
colour of Typhon, who plotted against Osiris and was then punished by Isis
for the death of her husband.
In On Isis and Osiris 30–1 (362e–363c) Plutarch discusses ritual practices
linked to Typhon: he describes how at Coptos the Egyptians throw a red ass
over a precipice, and how they also sacrifice red oxen, the animals being
marked by a seal showing a man with his hands behind his back and a sword
plunged into his throat (the last detail attributed to Castor of Rhodes).17
Manetho’s influence is clearest in On Isis and Osiris 49, 371b–c (F20 Jacoby),
where Typhon is associated with ass, crocodile, hippopotamus:
But Typhon is part of the soul that is like the Titans: passionate, impulsive,
irrational, and unstable. He is the part of the body that is morbid and
diseased and causes disturbances, such as storms, extremes of temperature
and eclipses of the sun and moon. These are like attacks and outbursts of
Typhon. And the name ‘Seth’, by which they call Typhon, means this: it
means, ‘that which overpowers and subdues by violence’, and it often means
‘reversal’ and also ‘outbreak’. Some say Bebon himself was one of the
companions of Typhon, but Manetho says that Typhon himself was called
Bebon; the name means ‘constraint’ or ‘hindrance’, meaning that the power
of Typhon obstructs actions that are proceeding on their way and traveling
toward the proper goal. (50) Therefore they assign to him the most stupid of

Osiris as a deity who undergoes sacrifice or ritual killing was popular in the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries: see Moret (1902:222–3); also Frazer (1927:2.97–9) (Osiris as a corn-god); pointed
out also in Budge (1911:402–3).
14
For the sparagmos of Dionysus, see e.g. Graf and Johnston (2007:80–5).
15 16
Dillery (1999), Dillery (2016). On Eudoxus and Egyptian religion, see Méautis (1919).
17
For On Isis and Osiris the commentary of Griffiths (1970) remains invaluable. The sacrifice of asses
was still going on at Deir-el-Bahari in the fourth century ad: see Łajtar (1991:61–3), Łajtar (2006:
no.172).
 The Reception of Egyptian Animal Sacrifice 257
domesticated animals, the ass, and the most savage of wild animals, the
crocodile and the hippopotamus.
Later on (On Isis and Osiris 73, 380c–e) Plutarch describes the strange
procedure that accompanies such sacrifices: if there is a drought or other
crisis, the priests lead aside certain of these animals, and first honour them,
then threaten them, and finally, if the crisis persists, they kill them, with the
intention of vexing Typhon. At least some of this seems to be accurate.18
Manetho also has a theory about how the Egyptians once sacrificed
humans. Two fragments are particularly important. The first is On Isis and
Osiris 73, 380c–e (fr.22 Jacoby):
Indeed in Eileithyaspolis they used to burn men alive, as Manetho has
recorded, calling them ‘Typhonians’, and they used to remove and scatter
their ashes with winnowing fans. But this was done openly and at a fixed
time, in the dog days . . . (contrasting with the secret killing of animals).19
‘Typhonian’ means ‘associated with Seth’, a term Manetho elsewhere
applies to the Hyksos, who were driven out of Egypt in the second
millennium bc, and founded Jerusalem. The apocalyptic ‘Oracle of the
Potter’, composed in Hellenistic Egypt, probably in Demotic Egyptian,
describes a period of unrest, when Egypt is ruled by the ‘Typhonians’.20
These Typhonians are normally taken to have been Greeks, and the use of
the term here puts the Greeks on a par with the Hyksos. In any case, the
implication is that, as associated with Seth, they deserve the fate of other
‘Typhonian offerings’: burn them!
The second text is Porphyry, De abst.2.55 (fr.14 Jacoby):21
The rite of human sacrifice at Heliopolis in Egypt was suppressed by
Amosis, as Manetho testified in his book On Ancient Ritual and Religion.
Men were sacrificed to Hera: they were examined, like the pure calves which
are sought out and marked with a seal. Three men used to be sacrificed
each day, but in their stead Amosis ordered that the same number of waxen
images be offered.

18
Griffiths (1970:550–1).
19
καὶ γὰρ ἐν Εἰληθυίας (MS: ἰδυθιας) πόλει ζῶντας ἀνθρώπους κατεπίμπρασαν, ὡς Μανεθὼς
ἱστόρηκε, Τυφωνίους καλοῦντες, καὶ τὴν τέφραν αὐτῶν λικμῶντες ἠφάνιζον καὶ διέσπειρον. ἀλλὰ
τοῦτο μὲν ἐδρᾶτο φανερῶς καὶ καθ’ ἕνα καιρὸν ἐν ταῖς κυνάσιν ἡμέραις·
20
See Koenen (1968:200–1) P2 (Rainer), 1.4–5: ‘In the time of the Typhonians they will say “wretched
Egypt”’ and 1.12–3: ‘The belt-wearers will destroy themselves, being Typhonians.’
21
Κατέλυσε δὲ καὶ ἐν Ἡλίου πόλει τῆς Αἰγύπτου τὸν τῆς ἀνθρωποκτονίας νόμον Ἄμωσις, ὡς μαρτυρεῖ
Μανεθὼς ἐν τῷ Περὶ ἀρχαϊσμοῦ καὶ εὐσεβείας. Ἐθύοντο δὲ τῇ Ἥρᾳ· καὶ ἐδοκιμάζοντο καθάπερ οἱ
ζητούμενοι καθαροὶ μόσχοι καὶ συσφραγιζόμενοι· ἐθύοντο δὲ τῆς ἡμέρας τρεῖς, ἀνθ’ ὧν κηρίνους
ἐκέλευσεν ὁ Ἄμωσις τοὺς ἴσους ἀποτίθεσθαι.
258 ian rutherford
Amosis here might either be Amasis, the Saite pharaoh familiar to us from
Herodotus, or Ahmose, founder of the New Kingdom almost a millen-
nium earlier. It is disconcerting that the two fragments seem to associate
the ritual with two different towns, Eleithyiaspolis (= El Kab) in Upper
Egypt, and Heliopolis in Lower Egypt, and it is uncertain how to reconcile
the discrepancy.22
To anyone familiar with Greek religion, the idea that human sacrifice
once took place but was commuted into something else will sound familiar,
except that in Greek religion it is usually replaced by the sacrifice of an
animal.23 One might wonder if Manetho, who is not just a source for
Egyptian practice but also a ‘transcultural’ writer, standing between Greek
and Egyptian traditions, and to some extent trying to reconcile the two by
establishing points of contact or ‘synchronisms’ between them,24 invented
the idea of an ancient and now defunct tradition of human sacrifice in Egypt
in order to provide an Egyptian equivalent for the Greek myth of Busiris,
which had been around from at least the sixth century bc.25 The link is in fact
made by Diodorus of Sicily (1.88.4; drawing on Manetho?):
Red oxen, however, may be sacrificed, because it is thought that this was the
colour of Typhon, who plotted against Osiris and was then punished by Isis for
the death of her husband. Men also, if they were of the same colour as Typhon,
were sacrificed, they say, in ancient times by kings at the tomb of Osiris;
however, only a few Egyptians are now found red in colour, but the majority of
such are non-Egyptians, and this is why the story spread among the Greeks of
the slaying of foreigners by Busiris, although Busiris was not the name of the
king but of the tomb of Osiris, which is called that in the language of that land.
Even if one of Manetho’s motives was to establish such a synchronism,
however, it is still possible that he believed that human sacrifice had
actually taken place in Egypt in the past. Whether or not it ever really
had is still disputed,26 but there is no doubt that Egyptian texts portray
animal sacrifices as the destruction of human adversaries of the pharaoh,
and some iconographic sources seem to represent humans about to be
sacrificed. In an article published in 1981 Yoyotte27 showed that the idea of
human sacrifice to ‘Hera’ of Heliopolis (i.e. Egyptian Mut, if we subtract

22
In fr.22 the reading Εἰληθυίας πόλει is not certain; manuscripts have ἰδυθιας. In fr.14, Waddell,
following Fruin, read Εἰλειθυίας πόλει, eliminating the reference to Heliopolis entirely.
23
See Burkert (1983:21 n.35); Burkert (1992:73–4). 24 Dillery (2016).
25
Panyassis of Halicarnassos, fr.26K; Matthews (1974:126–8); Hesiod fr.378 (Bousiris eleven genera-
tions older than Herakles) classed as spurious by Merkelbach and West (1967:183); Pherecydes of
Athens, FGrH3F17; see Laurens (1986).
26
Griffiths (1970:551–2). 27 Yoyotte (1980–1:59–104).
 The Reception of Egyptian Animal Sacrifice 259
the interpretatio Graeca) is paralleled in Egyptian ritual texts, especially the
‘Ritual for Repelling the Evil One’, which talks about enemies of the state
being burned in the ‘fire of Mut-who-carries-her-brother’, a goddess linked
to Heliopolis. Yoyotte concluded his article with the suggestion that ritual
immolation of humans by fire really did occur at Heliopolis and really was
stamped out by Amasis in the Twenty-sixth Dynasty.28
The fashion these days is to suppose that all Greek traditions about
barbarians engaging in human sacrifice, including the Busiris-myth, are
products of Greek ethnic stereotyping.29 But if there really had been
human sacrifice in Egypt, or just a widespread belief that it had once
happened, or even merely that animal sacrifice symbolises the destruction
of human enemies of the state, the possibility arises that the Greek myth of
Busiris might to some extent reflect Egyptian religious and political dis-
course; in other words, that the explanation of the Busiris-myth given by
Diodorus/Manetho might have an element of truth in it.

Herodotus’ remarks about the Busiris myth come at the end of his discussion
of Herakles, which itself is a sort of digression in the middle of his account of
Egyptian religion. In the course of this, he gives us a detailed account of two
types of Egyptian animal sacrifice, the earliest accounts in Greek literature
and the most detailed. Although Herodotus lacks Manetho’s intimate
knowledge of the symbolism of Egyptian animal sacrifice, he seems to be
well informed about the practice, so much so that Egyptologists have made
use of his remarks in reconstructing contemporary Egyptian religion.30
Herodotus chooses to focus on the sacrifice of a bull, which he believes
to be common to all Egyptians (2.41). Cows are universally taboo, and for
other animals, such as sheep and goats, different areas have different views
on the legitimacy of sacrifice (2.42, 46).31 The account of the bull sacrifice
begins with preliminaries (2.38): firstly, checking the victim for the right
signs (this seems to be a mistake; in fact they checked for the absence of
signs) and, secondly, marking the victim as suitable for sacrifice with a seal,
the task of the ‘moskhosphragistes’.32 Then they take the animal to the altar,
and dispose of the head ((2.39), tr. Waterfield):
28
Yoyotte (1980–1:102). 29 Rives (1995); Vasunia (2001:190–3).
30
See e.g. Erman (1934:336); Ghoneim (1977:212, 214–15).
31
In Thebes, in Upper Egypt, goats are sacrificed to Amun but not sheep; they do, however, slaughter
a ram once a year, and dress the statue of Zeus-Amun in its fleece. In Mendes, by contrast, sheep are
sacrificed but not goats. Strabo, 17.1.23, tells us that sacrifice of sheep took place only in Momemphis
in the Delta. Feder (2005) collects examples. For local variation in sacrificial practice, see also
Beinlich (1979).
32
On dokimasia, see in Feyel (2006:esp. 51–4); Yoyotte (1980–1:54); Labrique (2005:168).
260 ian rutherford
The way they perform the sacrifice is as follows. They take the marked beast
to the altar where the sacrifice is to take place and light a fire. Then they
sprinkle wine over the sacrificial victim and on the altar, invoke the deity,
and cut the animal’s throat. Once this is done, they cut off the head. They
skin the body, but call down curses on the creature’s head, and bear it away.
In towns where they have a square and where there are resident Greek
traders they take the head to the square and sell it, but if there are no Greeks
around, they throw it in the river. The intention expressed in the curses they
call down on the victims’ heads is to divert onto the creature’s head any evil
that might befall either the particular worshippers or Egypt as a whole.
The same practice as regards the heads of the sacrificial victims and sprink-
ling of wine is followed all over Egypt in all of their sacrifices, and as a result
of this practice no Egyptian will eat the head of any living creature.
The way the head is treated suggests that all the Sethian associations were
projected onto it. Other Greek authors corroborate that the head is
disposed of (Egyptian sources are inconclusive33), though Herodotus is
the only one who talks about it being given to the Greeks. It is difficult to
think of any other text in which members of a different ethnic group are
said to share a sacrificial division. Clearly there are two ways of looking at
this: from the Egyptian point of view, the fact that the Greeks get the head
reinforces their position as foreigners, who are regularly associated with
Seth;34 on the other hand, the very fact that the Egyptians allow the Greeks
to share the sacrifice suggests that the force of the ritual is to create a quasi-
commensal relationship between the two groups.
After that, Herodotus describes what they do with the rest of the
victim (2.40):
The way the entrails are removed and the burning of the victims varies from
victim to victim in Egypt. I shall talk about the most important goddess in
their religion and about the most important festival they celebrate. After
skinning the bull, they offer up prayers and remove all the intestines, but
leave the rest of the innards and the fat in the body. Then they cut off the
legs, the very end of the rump, its shoulders, and its neck. Next they fill the
remainder of the bull’s body with purified loaves, honey, raisins, figs,
frankincense, myrrh, and other perfumed spices, and then they burn it all,

33
Cf. Plutarch, On Isis and Osiris 31, 363b; Aelian NA 10.21.21–7 about heads being given to the
crocodiles at Ombo. For the Egyptian background, cf. Ikram (1995:118 and particularly 216), who
draws attention to Papyrus Bulaq 11, a document containing accounts of meat, wine, and bread
traded, perhaps having been supplied from a temple, where the most commonly mentioned joint of
meat is the head. The Greek priest’s oath in P. Washington 1 (Merkelbach (1968:17)), which includes
the statement: ‘οὐκ ἀφείρηκα κεφαλὴν ζώου’, is probably a translation of the Egyptian ‘Book of the
Temple’: see Quack (2016:273). For the head as scapegoat, see Stern (1991).
34
See above.
 The Reception of Egyptian Animal Sacrifice 261
while pouring over it huge quantities of oil. They fast before performing the
sacrifice, and everyone beats his breast in grief as the entrails are being burnt.
Once they have finished grieving, they serve up the remaining bits of the
entrails as a meal.
The account is not complete, because Herodotus does not say what
happened to the ‘legs, the very end of the rump, its shoulders, and its
neck’; most likely these sections, containing the best meat, were cooked
and consumed by elite members of the group. It is difficult to determine
whether Herodotus’ account is accurate or not, because we lack appro-
priate Egyptian sources. One apparent divergence is that in Egyptian texts,
the foreleg of the animal is usually cut off; there are, however, Egyptian
parallels for extracting the entrails and stuffing them with herbs.35
There are three key differences between Egyptian sacrifice as described by
Herodotus and Greek sacrifice: firstly, the treatment of the ‘innards’
(splanchna), which in Greek sacrifice are always removed and grilled sepa-
rately; secondly, the stress on burning rather than heating it by grilling or
stewing with the express purpose of making it edible. The burning seems to
reflect the practice of destroying the Seth-animals that we find in Egyptian
sources.36 Judged against Greek practice, Egyptian sacrifice as represented by
Herodotus seems to combine the two main modes of sacrifice, the ‘normal’
sacrifice, where the victim is consumed, and the renunciatory holocaust,
where you burn the animal to make it accessible to the lower gods. The third
difference is the lamentation, which some have seen as reflecting the sym-
bolism of the animal as Seth, who, though an enemy of the cosmic order, is
still a god.37 This makes it all the more remarkable that at no place in his
account of the bull sacrifice does Herodotus explicitly mention its Sethian
symbolism.
Whereas the bull sacrifice is presented as normal Egyptian practice, the
sacrifice of pigs, which Herodotus describes a little later (2.47), is presented
as abnormal, in so far as the consumption of pigs is usually taboo in Egypt,
and their sacrifice is allowed on only one occasion in the year:38
The only deities to whom the Egyptians are allowed to sacrifice pigs are
Selene and Dionysus; both these rituals take place at the same time of the

35
Foreleg cut off: Eggebrecht (1973:53–78); entrails: (ibid.:100–1); entrails and spices: Yoyotte (1980–1:
45–6). In general see Lloyd (1976–88 on this passage).
36
See above. For Pausanias’ account of the burning of birds in the Egyptian manner in the context of
the cult of Isis at Tithorea, see Villing in this volume (Chapter 3).
37
Lamentation for a sacrificed ram also at Herodotus, Bib. hist.2.42; also Lucian, De sacrif. 15.
On lamentation and sacrifice, cf. W. R. Smith (1889:410–12; 430–1).
38
For pig sacrifice in Egypt, see the penetrating discussion of Vernus (2012).
262 ian rutherford
month, at the full moon, and they first sacrifice the animals and then eat the
flesh. The Egyptians have a story to explain why although pigs are taboo at
all other festivals, they are sacrificed on this one occasion; but although
I know it, it is an inappropriate tale to tell. The way pigs are offered to Selene
is that the sacrificer lumps together the tip of the tail, the spleen, and the
omentum, covers them with all the fat he can get from the region of the
creature’s belly, and then burns this mixture on the fire. The rest – that is,
the flesh – is eaten on the day of the performance of the ritual, the day of the
full moon; on any other day, they would not eat it.
Remarkably, Herodotus’ account is roughly right: pigs were indeed sacri-
ficed at a full moon festival in the month of Pachon (May) in a ritual later
known as Liloition.39 Notice that again the ritual combines destruction of
parts of the victim and the eating of other parts. As to the story that
Herodotus knows but refuses to tell, Plutarch, probably reproducing
Manetho, reports that the sacrificed pig represents Seth who attacked the
corpse of Osiris, which he found when he was hunting a pig at the full
moon.40 It seems likely that this is similar to the story that Herodotus
claims to know, which suggests that he may have known that the sacrificial
pig was supposed to represent Seth.
Why then does Herodotus not mention Sethian symbolism in his
account of bull sacrifice? Perhaps it was unknown to him, or perhaps he
knew but he thought it was unimportant. In this context, it is perhaps
worth remembering that Herodotus held the unconventional view that
most of Greek religion had been imported from Egypt in the distant past
(Bib. hist.2.49–51); could his desire to make a general case for this perhaps
have led him to emphasise what Egyptian sacrifice had in common with
Greek and to downplay or ignore the differences? That is, to present it as
a ritual performance consisting of a series of micro-actions (pre-kill, kill,
post-kill), and to ignore the decidedly unGreek Sethian symbolism?

Another strand in the complex Greek view of Egyptian animal sacrifice was
that Egyptians, as animal worshippers, tended to avoid animal sacrifice and
meat eating, either selectively, always, or once upon a time. We have
already seen that Herodotus says that for Egyptians animal sacrifice is
allowed only exceptionally (2.45): ‘theirs is a people for whom the sacrifice
of beasts is unholy, except for pigs, bulls, bull-calves – that is such as are

39
Bonneau (1991); Vernus (2012:1072). A pig was offered at Edfu on the 15th of Pachons according to
Grimm (1994:105) G49; cf. Kees (1942:72).
40
On Isis and Osiris 8, 354a; so also Manetho, fr.81Waddell = Aelian NA 10.16. For the Egyptian
background, see Vernus (2012:210–11).
 The Reception of Egyptian Animal Sacrifice 263
pure – and geese’. A more extreme version of this is found in the comic poet
Anaxandrides (fourth century bc):41
You worship the cow, but I sacrifice it to the gods. You hold the eel to be
a mighty divinity, we hold it by far the mightiest of dainties.
Other sources tell us that during the Isiac Mysteries, vegetarianism was
enforced and that priests were sometimes vegetarian.42
The philosopher Theophrastus seems to have held the view that in the
distant past Egyptians were vegetarians, and that at this time the first
sacrifices were of plants:43
It seems to be an incalculably long time since the most rational race of all, as
Theophrastus says, dwelling in the most sacred region created by the Nile,
started from the beginning to sacrifice to the heavenly gods first-fruits. [These
were] not of myrrh or cassia and frankincense mixed with saffron; for it was
many generations later that these were added, when man, becoming nomadic
and searching for the necessities of life, offered with much suffering and many
tears drops of these first fruits to the gods. Earlier, therefore, they were not
accustomed to offer these things, but the sprout of a plant, as if plucking with
their hands some fine down of the generative nature.
Theophrastus’ picture of the primeval Egyptians as vegetarians is
a complete contrast to Manetho’s claim that early Egyptians performed
human sacrifice. Scholars who find it unlikely that a fourth-century Greek
philosopher could have known authentic Egyptian traditions44 will be
inclined to the view that Theophrastus is inventing this, using the
Egyptians as an example of a general view of primitivism, and perhaps
projecting onto Egypt the practices of Orphics and Pythagoreans whom
Herodotus believed (2.81) to have drawn on Egyptian material.45
Considering that Manetho is one of our main sources for Egyptian
animal sacrifice, it is a surprise to find that he also portrayed the
Egyptians as tending to avoid it. In an excerpt from his Aiguptiaka cited
by Josephus in Against Apion (609F10a Jacoby), Manetho narrated the
expulsion of the proto-Jews from Egypt. Here Osariph and his lepers,

41
PCG 40 (Poleis); Smelik and Hemelrijk (1984:1882).
42
Mysteries: Plutarch, On Isis and Osiris 2; Haussleiter (1935:35); vegetarianism: Chaeremon the Stoic
(fr.10van den Horst) cited in Porphyry Abst. 4.7.
43
Porphyry, Abst. 2.26 (= Fortenbaugh et al. (1992:2.405–7, fr.584A). For the intellectual context, see
Schwabl (1978:838–9).
44
Notice, however, that both Aristotle (Pol. 7.9.1, 4 [1329b 4, 25]) and Dicaearchus (fr.57a, b, 58a, b)
seem to have had information about the legendary Egyptian king Sesostris, which might derive from
contemporary Egyptian sources.
45
For a rare criticism of sacrifice in an Egyptian source, see Griffiths (1991).
264 ian rutherford
having taken control of Avaris (a ‘Typhonian’ city: Against Apion 1.238),
define themselves by distancing themselves from Egyptian practice (Against
Apion 1.239), deciding neither to worship the gods nor to abstain from
sacred animals, but to sacrifice and dispose of them all.46 Then Osariph
sends for the ‘Shepherds’ who are in Jerusalem (having been expelled from
Egypt centuries before), and rather than fight the combined armies, the
pharaoh Amenophis flees with the sacred animals to Ethiopia. Thereupon
the invaders (Ap. 1.249):47
habitually used the very sanctuaries as kitchens for roasting the venerated
sacred animals, and forced the priests and prophets to sacrifice and butcher
them.
So at least by contrast with the Osariph, the lepers, and the Shepherds (who
for the purposes of this narrative are the ancestors of the Jewish people), the
Egyptians are abstemious with respect to sacrifice.48
On the face of it, this seems inconsistent with Egyptian attitudes to
sacrificing animals that we have seen elsewhere. In fact, the inconsistency is
largely that between Egyptian attitudes towards different categories of
animals, between the way they regarded ordinary animals and the special
religious status given to some groups.49 Reverence for sacred animals seems
to have become more intense in the Egyptian Late Period (664–332 bc),
perhaps a response to foreign occupation.50 In any case, by Manetho’s
time, there seem to exist two equally intense and only apparently incon-
sistent attitudes to animals, based on two symbolic values that animals
could have: as incarnations and symbols of the other gods, they were to be
protected, while as symbols of Seth and enemies of the cosmic order, they
were to be destroyed.
Thus, Manetho’s narrative of Amenophis and the Hyksos shows that the
Egyptians saw themselves as refraining from killing and sacrificing animals,
or at least doing it less and with greater discretion than other ethnic groups

46
Cf. Apophis and Seqenenrec: Goedicke (1986:10) thinks this is human sacrifice (rdi m3’).
47
καὶ τοῖς ἀδύτοις (emend. Bekker) ὀπτανίοις τῶν σεβαστευομένων ἱερῶν ζῴων χρώμενοι διετέλουν,
καὶ θύτας καὶ σφαγεῖς τούτων ἱερεῖς καὶ προφήτας ἠνάγκαζον γίνεσθαι.
48
Notice also that in Manetho fr.83 = Porphyry, Abst. 2.55, what replaced the sacrifice of humans was
the sacrifice of wax figurines, not animals. Another cultural contrast involving sacrificial practice can
be found in Giessen 99 (80–79 bc): ‘they sacrifice sheep and goats, the opposite of our [native
Egyptian] sacrifices’ (text in Kornemann and Meyer (1910–12)).
49
For sacred animals, see Ray (2001); also Meeks and Favard-Meeks (1997), 129–40; Hopfner (1913);
for Greek reception, Smelik and Hemelrijk (1984).
50
Ray (2001:346); Lloyd (1976–88:2.293). See Smelik and Hemelrijk (1984:1858–64).
 The Reception of Egyptian Animal Sacrifice 265
they encountered. This in turn suggests that Theophrastus’ account of
primeval Egyptian vegetarianism could be based on Egyptian sources.

In this chapter I have tried to show that what Greeks say about Egyptian
animal sacrifice is usually not greatly removed from reality, not just in the
Hellenistic period when there was closer contact, but even earlier in the
fifth and fourth centuries. It would be possible to extend this with further
examples. For example, we have one more account of Egyptian sacrifice
from the philosopher Iamblichus (third century ad), who has the Egyptian
Abammon make the following statement:51
The same absurd consequences result if, as do certain of our compatriots,
one attributes the efficacy of sacrifices to numerical relationships, as for
instance when one assigns the number sixty to the crocodile as being proper
to the sun; or to natural-reason principles as exemplified by the powers and
activities of certain animals, such as the dog, the baboon or the field-mouse,
all of which have an affinity to the moon; or to the forms in matter, as in the
case of sacred animals, where one looks at them from the point of view of
their colours and all their bodily traits; or indeed anything else connected
with the bodies of animals or of any of the other things which are offered in
sacrifice; or if they reckon a particular organ of the body (such as, for
instance, the heart of the cock), or any other such feature of a natural
phenomenon as a cause of the efficacy of sacrifices.
This doctrine of numeral or other forms of symbolism might seem like
a Neoplatonic or theurgic doctrine, and so essentially Greek. But Joachim
Quack has recently argued that even here one may find echoes of Egyptian
teachings about the symbolic value of things in the natural world.52
In the last few decades there has been a strong tendency among scholars
to claim that statements by Greek writers about foreign peoples are in
general unreliable, especially because their cultural presuppositions may
lead them falsely to attribute exotic or inhumane behaviour to them. In the
case of animal sacrifice and other offerings to the gods, the sheer range of
behaviours attributed to the Egyptians, ranging from human sacrifice to
vegetarianism, might lead one to imagine that Greek writers are at least to
some extent inventing. Against this, I have tried to argue that Egyptian
attitudes to animal sacrifice, in so far as the sources allow us to reconstruct
them, are themselves complex and inconsistent, and include two radically
opposed attitudes: on the one hand, ‘the animal sacrifices we perform

51
Iamblichus, On the Mysteries 5.8 (tr. Clarke, Dillon and Herchbell (2003:237–9)).
52
Quack (2008b).
266 ian rutherford
symbolise the destruction of the divine and human enemies of the cosmic
order’ and on the other hand, ‘other ethnic groups perform indiscriminate
animal sacrifice, but we do not’.
Even before the Hellenistic period, Greek writers who mention
Egyptian animal sacrifice have some knowledge of it, and this is not
surprising. Ancient civilisations were never isolated from each other, and
there had always been a high degree of mobility between them, facilitating
the exchange of ideas and information. Knowledge of how other people
perform key rituals such as animal sacrifice would tend to spread, because
these were perceived as central to a culture’s identity. Notice also that some
of the Egyptian ideas about animal sacrifice we have looked at are part of
a wider discourse about the difference between them and foreigners: the
enemies of the state whose destruction the killing of animals represents will
often have been foreigners, and the purpose of Manetho’s Amenophis
narrative is to clarify the difference between Egyptians and the ‘other’.
Rather than thinking of Greek discourse about Egypt as an ideological
fantasy of ethnic stereotyping, we might do better to think of the Greeks as
long-term participants in a transcultural conversation among different
ethnic groups of the Eastern Mediterranean, one topic of which will have
been animal sacrifice, that most distinctive of cultural markers.
 chapter 12

A Quiet Slaughter? Julian and the Etiquette

of Public Sacrifice
Sergio Knipe

In March 363, on his way to face the Persian army of Shapur II, the Roman
emperor Flavius Claudius Julianus passed through the city of Batnae
(modern Suruç, in south-eastern Turkey). Julian was pleased by the
charming location of the city (“a densely wooded plain containing groves
of young cypresses”), and more so by the fact that its inhabitants were
pagan. Julian’s reaction to the public expression of this religious identity,
however, was not one of enthusiasm. In a letter composed a few weeks
later, and addressed to the rhetor Libanius, the emperor remarks:
throughout the country on all sides were fumes of frankincense, and every-
where I saw victims ready to be sacrificed. Yet, while this pleased me very
much, it struck me as overheated zeal [θερμότερον], alien to proper rever-
ence for the gods. For things sacred to the gods and holy ought to be away
from the beaten path [ἐκτὸς πάτου] and performed in peace and quiet
[καθ’ἡσυχίαν], by proceeding to that end alone and not as on the way to
some other business.1
Julian’s criticism in this passage raises some interesting questions. After
delivering his verdict on the “overheated zeal” or “hastiness” of the citizens
of Batnae,2 the emperor added that “perhaps this matter will soon be given
appropriate attention.” His letter to Libanius, however, makes no further
reference to either the Batnae incident or the nature of “proper reverence
for the gods.” What Julian found so disappointing in the public conduct of
his co-religionists is by no means obvious: in what sense did Julian regard
the sacrificial behavior at Batnae as inappropriate? In what terms did the
emperor envisage “proper reverence for the gods”? And what, in the
context of civic ritual, is the meaning of an expression like “in peace and
quiet” (καθ’ἡσυχίαν)?
1
Jul. Ep. 58 400c–d.
2
The adjective θερμότερον, which following Wright (1913–23) I have translated as “overheated zeal,”
might equally be taken to mean “performed in haste.”

267
268 s er g i o k n i pe
An attempt to answer the above questions provides an occasion to
examine Julian’s approach to public worship. In what follows, I set out
to elucidate the emperor’s comments about Batnae by focusing on his
understanding of sacrificial dynamics, ritual efficacy, and suitable religious
conduct. In his many writings, Julian developed some of the most sophis-
ticated reflections on sacrificial practice to survive from pagan antiquity.
He did so at a time when through the spread of Christianity the signifi-
cance of traditional ritual was becoming an increasingly relevant question
for all followers of the old ways. Julian’s attempt to redefine and reinstate
sacrificial worship serves as a striking reminder of the enduring centrality of
this practice, the very lifeblood of Greek pagan identity. The emperor’s
critical attention towards religious etiquette at Batnae – as we shall see –
betrays a deeper concern for the underlying function of sacrifice: for how it
operates and what it accomplishes. The best starting point for an enquiry
into Julian’s sacrificial etiquette and its wider implications is to be found in
the ritual conduct of the emperor himself.

Julian as Victimarius
Almost fifteen months before arriving at Batnae, Julian had entered
Constantinople as the legitimate heir to Constantius II.3 Yet eleven months
earlier, he had grudgingly attended the celebration of Epiphany in the
cathedral of Vienne, where “he pretended to adhere to Christian worship,
from which he had long since secretly departed.”4 However, by the time
Julian was acclaimed ruler in the imperial capital, he had dropped the
Christian mask5 and plainly ordered that “temples be opened, victims
brought to the altars and the worship of the gods restored.”6 Julian’s stay
in Constantinople was a brief one, but the pungent fragrance of roasted
meat followed the emperor wherever fate led him: from the crowded streets
of Antioch to the holy shrines of Pessinus, to the torrid banks of the
Euphrates. In the winter of 363, about to head east with his army, Julian
drenched the altars with the copious blood of victims far too frequently, at
different times offering one hundred oxen, as well as countless flocks of
various animals, and white birds hunted out from land and sea; to such an
extent that almost every day his soldiers, stuffing themselves with meat, . . .
indulged in banquets that deserved punishment rather than indulgence.7

3 4 5 6
Amm. 22.2.1–5. Amm. 21.2.4. See Bowersock (1978: ch. 6). Amm. 22.5.2.
7
Amm. 22.12.6.
 A Quiet Slaughter? 269
The eighteen months Julian spent on the imperial throne were marked by
sacrifices so extravagant “that one might believe that if he had returned
from the Parthians, there would have been a scarcity of cattle.”8 It is in
these terms, at any rate, that the historian Ammianus Marcellinus chose to
portray the religious devotion of Julian some three decades after his death.9
Ammianus’ narrative of the military campaign which he had once wit-
nessed in person10 stands as the centerpiece of his Res Gestae. While neither
uncritical nor unproblematic, Ammianus’ description of Julian is generally
laudatory. As one recent commentator has noted, “Julian’s reign is con-
structed in an exemplary fashion” by the pagan historian.11 But if Ammianus
portrayed Julian in largely positive terms, there is one aspect of the emperor’s
public conduct of which he disapproved: Julian’s ostentatious devotion,
which has been described as “le point d’incompréhension, sinon de friction,
le plus grave, entre l’historien et son héros.”12 While the passages quoted
above, with their hyperbolical language, are particularly apt at conveying the
sense in which Ammianus frowned upon Julian’s sacrificial conduct, they are
not exceptional. When dealing with Julian, Ammianus appears to focus on
sacrificial rites to an extent unusual for an author who has otherwise been
accused of “giving insufficient weight to the religious preoccupations of his
emperors.”13
It has been argued that Ammianus’ descriptions of sacrificial rites, while
appearing “unmistakably critical in tone . . . do not concern these practices
in themselves, but Julian’s extravagance.”14 According to Ammianus, the
emperor’s public display of sacrificial zeal was unusual in a way that made
him appear “superstitious [superstitiosus] rather than truly religious.”15
No doubt, Ammianus’ Julian is a man who “in his relation to his invisible
neighbors, adopted stances that clashed with the ideal of unaffected,
unostentatious and unmanipulative relations current among his visible
neighbors.”16 In the Res Gestae, not only is the scale of Julian’s sacrifices

8
Amm. 25.4.17. Cf. Lib. Or. 17.9 and 24.35, where it is said that Julian “sacrificed herds of cattle and
flocks of sheep, out of doors or indoors, at night time or in daylight” and “in ten years offered more
sacrifices than all the rest of the Greeks put together.”
9
On the life of Ammianus and the dating of his Res Gestae, see G. A. J. Kelly (2008: Introduction
and ch. 3).
10
See Amm. 23.5.7. 11 G. A. J. Kelly (2008: 316). Cf. Caltabiano (1998).
12
Fontaine (1978: 63). 13 Matthews (1989: 446). 14
Boeft et al. (1995: 213).
15
Amm. 25.4.17.
16
This is Peter Brown’s definition of superstitiosus (Brown 1978: 39). In Antiquity, the word superstitio
was applied to forms of behavior seen to fall outside the sphere of religious acceptability: bizarre and
foreign cults, manipulative or harmful ritual practices, and all forms of religious conduct regarded as
excessive or unwarranted. For a more detailed discussion of the term (and its heterogeneous uses),
see Calderone (1971), Grodzynski (1974), (Martin 2004: 10–20).
270 s er g i o k n i pe
excessive, but religious zeal often makes the emperor and pontifex maximus
act in an unseemly and embarrassing fashion:
He was also called by many a slaughterer [uictimarius] instead of a high-
priest, in allusion to the frequency of his sacrificial offerings, and he was
fittingly criticized because for the sake of display he took pleasure in
improperly carrying the sacred emblems in place of the priests.17
As Ammianus suggests, there is something disturbingly conspicuous in
Julian’s penchant for blood sacrifice. The Res Gestae hint at a certain
impropriety on the emperor’s part: a desire for direct sacrificial involve-
ment seriously at odds with that ceremonial dignity and remoteness which
distinguished Roman rulers in late antiquity.18 Even among pagans, sacri-
ficial displays of the sort favored by Julian were likely to elicit surprise and
disapproval rather than religious enthusiasm.
No less striking is the fact that the emperor himself chose to emphasize
the unusual frequency and scale of his religious ceremonies, and even
expressed awareness of the criticism leveled at him on account of his
sacrificial zeal. In a letter composed in 361 from his winter quarters at
Naissus (in Dalmatia), Julian writes: “I worship the gods openly, and the
main body of the army that is returning with me is religious. I sacrifice oxen
in public. I have offered many hecatombs to the gods as thank-offerings.”19
In The Beard-Hater (Misopogon), a bitter work of satire composed in the
early months of 363, the emperor refers to his own piety by putting mock-
ing words into the mouths of the citizens of Antioch:
The emperor sacrificed once in the temple of Zeus, then in the temple of
Fortune; he visited the temple of Demeter three times in a row . . .
The Syrian New Year arrived, and again the emperor went to the temple
of Zeus the Friendly One; then came the general festival, and the emperor
went to the shrine of Fortun . . . who could put up with an emperor who
goes to the temples so often?20
For all their self-irony, Julian’s own words are consistent with the descrip-
tions provided by Ammianus. These narrative accounts all point to one
crucial trait in the emperor’s religious disposition: unconventional zeal.
17
Amm. 22.14.3. Cf. Lib. Or. 12.80 and 82 (“[Julian] officiates in person, busies himself, fetches the
wood, wields the knife, pens the birds and inspects their entrails . . . For it would be strange, if he
were personally to handle messages to his governors yet not fulfill his duties towards the gods with
the same hands.”)
18
Concerning the “maverick” nature of Julian’s ideal of kingship and his public conduct in the context
of fourth-century perceptions of imperial ceremony, see Dvornik (1955: 77), Brown (1978: 39),
Athanassiadi (1992: 113), Kelly (1998: 150).
19
Wright (1913–23: vol. iii: no.8). 20 Jul. Misopogon 346b–c.
 A Quiet Slaughter? 271
Julian appears to have been a peculiar sacrificer: an enthusiast who per-
formed his rites freely and with little regard for public norms; one who was
willing to overstep accepted boundaries to offer his victims with dispropor-
tionate frequency, personally taking care of ritual minutiae. What, by
contrast, appears to be inconsistent in light of this picture is Julian’s
criticism of the sacrificial rites at Batnae: the incongruity between the
harsh comments of Julian in his letter to Libanius and his own behavior
as public sacrificer is all too evident. By praising rites performed “in peace
and quiet” and criticizing more lavish, public ceremonies, the emperor
might be accused of using double standards. After all, even while at Batnae,
Julian recorded how he personally sacrificed “in the evening and then at
early dawn, as I am in the habit of doing practically every day.”21 This
question of inconsistency calls for a more precise definition of Julian’s
identity as public sacrificer.

A Theurgist on the Throne

To account for the sacrificial eccentricity of Julian, different explanatory
factors have been invoked. Scholars agree that Julian was an unconven-
tional worshipper, but disagree as to the reasons behind his frequently
problematic behavior. Leaving aside two of the most common explana-
tions – psychological inclination and anti-Christian sentiment22 – Nicole
Belayche has recently pointed to a third element that might account for
Julian’s sacrificial enthusiasm: his identity as a Neoplatonist theurgist.23
According to Eunapius, the early fifth-century author of The Lives of the
Philosophers, Julian was introduced to the theurgic doctrine of Iamblichus
during his student days at Pergamon by Maximus of Ephesus.24 Ammianus
describes Maximus as “a famous philosopher, a man with a great reputa-
tion for erudition, as a consequence of whose rich discourses Julian the
emperor acquired immense learning.”25 A commitment to Neoplatonist
philosophy and an ardent admiration for Iamblichus unambiguously
emerge from the pages of the emperor’s own writing.26 In the Hymn to

21
Jul. Ep. 58.401b.
22
For a “psychological” approach to Julian’s religiosity, see Browning (1975: 193), Bowder (1978: 98),
Bowersock (1978: 80 and 108), Bouffartigue (1989), Athanassiadi (1992: vii–x, 32, 98). For an
interpretive approach that instead focuses more on the Christian past of the emperor, or on his
conscious opposition to Christianity, see Corsini (1983), Bowersock (1990: 6), Cameron (1993: 25),
Bradbury (1995), Fowden (1998: 547), Saggioro (2002: 237), Bringmann (2004: ch. 5).
23 24
Belayche (2001). Eun. VS 474. 25 Amm. 29.1.42.
26
Julian revered and admired Iamblichus next to the gods, as “superior to all men” of his own time
(Or. 7. 235a and 7.217b–c); he usually referred to him using epithets like “inspired,” “divine” (Or. 4,
272 s er g i o k n i pe
the Mother of the Gods, for instance, Julian prays: “as for me, grant me as
fruit of my worship of you that I may have true knowledge in the doctrines
about the gods, make me perfect in theurgy.”27
The role played by Neoplatonist doctrine in shaping Julian’s religious
outlook has been emphasized by many scholars, most notably in the last
thirty years by Glen Bowersock and Polymnia Athanassiadi.28 Julian –
John Matthews observed – “was devoted to theurgy, not as a dilettante to
something he happens to find colourful and exotic, but as a serious
philosopher to a technique central to his philosophy.”29 Where
Belayche’s contribution proves particularly valuable is in its attempt to
present Julian’s commitment to theurgy as the crucial element in shaping
his approach to blood sacrifice. According to Belayche, the emperor’s
identity as theurgist provides the most likely explanation for his need for
frequent and direct involvement in sacrificial practice. Given the impor-
tance of blood sacrifice in the religious thought of Iamblichus and his
followers, it is only natural that Julian should wish personally to engage in
frequent acts of sacrificial worship in an attempt to cultivate divine
favor.30
In De mysteriis, a treatise written some sixty years before Julian’s acces-
sion to the imperial throne, Iamblichus presents theurgy as a cult intellec-
tually ordained from the beginning according to the sacred laws of the
gods, imitating the divine order and revealing the inexpressible through
ineffable symbols.31 In practice, theurgy consisted of a series of rituals
intended to elevate the human soul above the material realm. While
theurgy was a strictly esoteric doctrine, and one based on sophisticated
metaphysical premises, it embraced all forms of traditional religiosity.
Sacrifice, in particular, was seen as an important means of establishing
communion with the gods: of purifying the soul while also securing
material prosperity. Theurgists who, like Iamblichus and Maximus, were

157c, 7.222b, 6.188b), “god-like” (Ep. 45.401b) and “famous hierophant” (Fr. 4). On Julian’s regard
for Iamblichus, see Belayche (2001: 475–6 and 483–4). For Julian’s similarly flattering treatment of
Maximus, see Jul. Ep. 12.383a and 26.415a–b, Or. 7.235a.
27
Jul. Or. 5.180b. Cf. Or. 6.183a and 7.235a, Ep. 8.441a and 47.434d.
28
In particular, see Bowersock (1978: 86 and 92–3) and Athanassiadi (1992: 185–7). Cf. (most recently)
Fowden (1998: 543–8), Moreschini (1998), Renucci (2000: chs. 3 and 4), Bringmann (2004: 29–35,
40–41, 79–82, 111 and 119–20), Rosen (2006: 97–109, 232 and 299–300).
29
Matthews (1989: 124).
30
On the central place of sacrificial worship in the philosophy of Iamblichus, see Shaw (1995: ch. 13)
and Clarke (2001: ch. 3).
31
See, in particular, Myst. 65.3–9. Concerning the life of Iamblichus and the underlying principles of
his theurgic doctrine, see Shaw (1995); van Liefferinge (1999); Clarke (2001); Clarke, Dillon, and
Herchbell (2003: Introduction).
 A Quiet Slaughter? 273
aware of the transcendent significance of religious ceremonies, could thus
make conscious use of them to pursue spiritual goals.
By stressing Julian’s identity as Iamblichean theurgist, what Belayche’s
reading suggests is the idea of an esoteric dimension to the emperor’s
sacrifices: behind the bloody and potentially grotesque facade of Julian’s
sacrificial slaughter, intricate philosophical dynamics were at work. This
emphasis on the esoteric side of Julian’s religiosity ultimately implies
a disjunction between what Julian’s sacrifices appeared to be, and what
they were believed or hoped to be by the emperor himself. If Julian’s
sacrificial displays might have seemed distasteful, superstitious, or even
shocking to his contemporaries, they were nevertheless motivated by
strong doctrinal concerns. For Belayche, it is clear that through philoso-
phical initiation Julian acquired new ritual expertise that allowed him to
conceive of sacrificial practice in a specific and meaningful way: “Les
rituels, et avant tout les sacrifices, dont il prend le cérémoniel dans la
tradition romaine, aident à accueillir la lumière divine qui est déjà en
nous.”32 An acquired sense of ritual competence and authority is here
identified as the defining feature of the emperor’s approach to sacrifice.
Belayche’s approach to Julian’s sacrificial conduct proves highly useful,
insofar as it helps address some of the more problematic issues raised by
an engagement with contemporary accounts. What Belayche does not
discuss at any length in her work is the way in which Julian’s philoso-
phical background might have affected his understanding of public
sacrifice. Viewing Julian’s sacrificial comportment as largely the expres-
sion of esoteric concerns, however, certainly makes a difference to the way
in which we envisage the emperor’s attitude to the religion of others.
If Julian’s devotion to blood sacrifice was an integral component of his
philosophical quest as Iamblichean theurgist, evidence suggests that
philosophical notions of piety and purity also informed his understand-
ing of sacrificial efficacy more generally. A first hint in this direction
comes from Julian’s treatment of that “religious other” which he despised
the most.
The issue of anti-Christian persecution is central to the definition of
Julian’s religiosity. If Julian possessed such a passionate devotion for blood
sacrifice and an aversion to Christianity, why did he not choose to publish
a general edict forcing all his subjects to sacrifice? The question is certainly
a legitimate one, given that only sixty years before Julian, Maximinus Daia,
whose reorganization of the pagan priesthood is often cited as a likely

32
Belayche (2001: 484).
274 s er g i o k n i pe
influence on Julian’s cultic reform,33 had instructed his own citizens to
sacrifice to the gods.34 Even before Maximinus, and a hundred years before
Julian, the emperor Decius had taken the radical step of imposing “a kind
of orthopraxy” through the definition of sacrifice as “the minimal cult
behaviour expected of all Romans.”35 Given such notable precedents and
Julian’s commitment to sacrificial practice, why did the last pagan emperor
choose not to enforce sacrifice?
Leaving aside possible suggestions that Julian was either planning a
persecution on his return from Persia, or that persecution was simply not
a viable or convenient option for him at the time,36 an intriguing answer
can be found in the emperor’s own writing. Here, on more than one
occasion, Julian explicitly denies the intention of compelling Christians
to worship the gods out of piety:
Not allowing a single one of them to be dragged to the altars against his will,
I expressly proclaim that, if anyone willingly chooses to take part in our
lustral rites and libations, he ought first to offer sacrifices of purification and
supplicate the gods who avert evil. So far am I from ever having wished or
intended that anyone of those impious men should partake in the sacrifices
that we most revere, until he has purified his soul by supplications to the
gods, and his body by the customary purifications.37
The above words, which the emperor addressed to the citizens of Bostra,
illustrate the main reasoning behind Julian’s policy of religious toleration:
if Christianity was a disease of the soul, as the emperor was always quick to
remark,38 then Christian participation in the holy ceremonies of pagan
religion would only contaminate what is most pure. The passage also
points to another important feature of Julian’s religious disposition: the

33
Cf. Nicholson (1994), Bradbury (1995: 351), R. Smith (1995: 15 and 110), Fowden (1998: 560),
Bringmann (2004: 129), Rosen (2006: 300).
34
See Lactant. De mort. persec. 36.4–5. More generally on the religious policy of the Tetrarchic
emperors, see Rees (2004: ch. 5).
35
Rives (1999: 153). Rives here also refers to Valerian’s edict as a parallel, quoting Acta Cypriani 1 (“all
those who do not practice Roman religion ought to acknowledge Roman rites.”)
36
According to Bowersock (1978: 91), the emperor’s policies appear to have been “edging close to
persecution” towards the end of his reign. A similar line is adopted by Browning (1975: 185) and
Renucci (2000: 315). By contrast, other scholars (for instance, Bringmann (2004: 86 and 90)) reject
the suggestion that Julian was planning any persecutions on the basis of an assumption first
formulated by Libanius. According to the rhetor, Julian, “seeing that the influence of his opponents
increased with persecution . . . shunned methods he disapproved of: those who could be cured he
began directing towards the truth, but he would not force those leading a baser way of life” (Or.
18.123).
37
Jul. Ep. 41.436c–d. Cf. Ep. 21.380c, 36.423a, 424a and 40.424e, Amm. 22.5.3.
38
See, for instance, Jul. Ep. 12.383a, 41.438c, 58.401c and 69.412d, CG 327b, Or. 7.229d. Cf. Lib. Or.
13.42 and 18.121–2, 160, 281.
 A Quiet Slaughter? 275
notion that a sacrificial rite is only effective insofar as it is conducted with
a pious mind and appropriate spiritual awareness. The idea that “without
piety . . . even the Olympian sacrifice of a thousand oxen is merely empty
expenditure and nothing else” frequently occurs in Julian’s writing.39
In one instance, the emperor justifies Diogenes’ piety by arguing that the
Cynic philosopher never worshipped in the temples because he:
possessed none of the things that are usually offered: neither incense nor
libations nor money to buy these with. But if he held right opinions about
the gods, this was enough; for he worshipped them with his very soul, thus
offering them the most precious of his possessions: the dedication of his soul
through his thoughts.40
On another occasion, the emperor morosely recorded how, among the
Cappadocians, “some refuse to sacrifice, and although some few are
zealous, they lack knowledge.”41
Bearing in mind Julian’s philosophical emphasis on sacrificial purity and
religious awareness, it is worth turning once more to the episode at Batnae.
One of the questions initially raised in relation to this curious incident was
whether Julian should be seen as guilty of using a double standard when
judging the sacrificial displays of others. This question can now be
answered affirmatively: Julian was using a double standard, insofar as he
viewed the rites performed by those who lacked appropriate piety and
knowledge as little more than superficial displays. By denouncing the
lavish appearance of the sacrifices at Batnae, Julian might be implying
that these public rites were only empty shells, lacking the proper reverence
and concentration, purity and devotion. In other words, it might be the
case that in Julian’s view, the citizens of Batnae scurrying through the busy
streets and dragging victims to the altars were sacrificing only externally, as
Christians would when compelled to worship the gods. And as successful
sacrifice depends as much on one’s inner disposition as it does on con-
formity to proper ritual action, Julian could hardly be expected to regard
the citizens of Batnae, for all the pomp and grandeur of their ceremonies, as
genuine sacrificers.
The incident at Batnae usefully points to what Julian considered to be
the crucial traits of religious worship: sincere devotion on the part of the
practitioner, religious focus, and awareness. But the episode also raises
some interesting questions as to the practical implications of Julian’s out-
look on public ritual. Given the nature of Julian’s criticism, what requires

39 40 41
Jul. Or. 7.213d–214a. Cf. 239c. Jul. Or. 6.199b. Jul. Ep. 35.375c.
276 s er g i o k n i pe
further attention is the way in which he chose to envisage appropriate
sacrificial conduct. Ultimately, any attempt to elucidate this point depends
on how we wish to interpret Julian’s claim that “things that are sacred to
the gods and holy ought to be away from the beaten path and performed in
peace and quiet.” On the one hand, given his background as
a Neoplatonist theurgist, it is not unusual for Julian to be referring to
rites “off the beaten path”: while supportive of traditional cult ceremonies,
theurgy was primarily an esoteric pursuit, based on the individual perfor-
mance of secret rituals. It would be possible to argue, therefore, that
appropriate sacrificial conduct, for Julian, coincided with the private ritual
action of Iamblichean philosophers such as himself. This, however, is
unlikely to have been the case: for not only did the emperor engage in
public religious ceremonies to a far greater extent than was expected of him
as pontifex maximus, but Julian was also evidently pleased that his subjects,
and the citizens of Batnae, were collectively worshipping the gods.
To make sense of Julian’s criticism, I believe that the expressions “off the
beaten track” and “in peace and quiet,” as ἐκτὸς πάτου and καθ’ἡσυχίαν
are usually translated into English, should be read figuratively rather than
literally, to describe a specific sacrificial attitude: what Johannes Geffcken
termed a “spiritualizing” understanding of sacrifice.42 In particular, the
term ἡσυχία, which was commonly used to convey the meaning of
“peace,” “quiet,” and “silence” (as opposed to unrest or even war), should
here be seen to possess a religious connotation: ἡσυχία standing for the
collected, religious silence of the ritual (“le calme intérieur, opposé à
l’inquiétude et à la crainte”).43 In this light, Julian’s criticism of what he
had witnessed at Batnae assumes a wider significance: far from dismissing
the cult of ordinary citizens, the emperor in his letter to Libanius appears to
be complaining that the public worship conducted at Batnae lacks those
subtle qualities which render sacrificial cult truly efficacious. Julian’s
remarks in this context clearly agree with what the emperor had to say
on other occasions with regard to Christians (unsuitable sacrificers) or
Cappadocians (zealots who lacked real knowledge).
Julian’s disappointment at Batnae, then, can be said to reveal some
highly distinctive features in his approach to blood sacrifice.
The Neoplatonist background of Julian, which Belayche usefully invoked
to explain the eccentric nature of his personal commitment to sacrificial
42
Geffcken (1978: 132).
43
Spicq (1978: 360). The term ἡσυχία, which could also mean “solitude” or “sequestered place,” later
came to be employed by Christian authors to describe both prayer and the contemplative life of the
monk.
 A Quiet Slaughter? 277
practice, can also be invoked to elucidate the emperor’s attitude to public
worship. Civic cult, for Julian, was a ritual process the efficacy of which
could not be guaranteed in the absence of adequate religious standards:
individual piety and awareness were not optional requirements but pre-
requisites towards the successful performance of sacrifice. The implications
of Julian’s philosophical approach to sacrifice are far-reaching: if for no
other reason, because the emperor is best remembered today as the last
champion of paganism. The theurgic ideals that so deeply informed
Julian’s perspective on pagan worship, prompting him to react with
bitterness at the superficial displays at Batnae, also deeply impinged on
his action as a religious reformer. Taking account of the central theurgic
features in the sacrificial outlook of Julian thus clearly makes a difference to
the way in which we envisage his public religious policy. Besides suggesting
one possible reason why the emperor might have chosen to avoid persecu-
tion, Julian’s concern for ritual purity provides an alternative perspective
on his attempt at pagan restoration.

Religious Reform and the Restoration of Sacrificial Efficacy

As Roman emperor and pontifex maximus, Julian, unlike his philosophical
colleagues, possessed the means not merely to pass judgment upon
the sacrificial comportment of others, but also to shape their religious
behavior through political action. The influence of Neoplatonism upon
Julian’s attempt at pagan restoration, however, has been either downplayed
by modern commentators, or conceived in strictly ideological terms. The
latter perspective is best illustrated by the work of Polymnia Athanassiadi,
for whom Julian “attempted to formulate the dogmas of paganism.”44
A similar position is favored by those commentators keen to suggest that
Julian’s religious reforms were primarily aimed at developing a “pagan
orthodoxy” to challenge Christianity.45 By contrast, Rowland Smith has
rejected the claim that Julian’s project “was principally shaped by the wish
to create a pagan Church on the base of a rival Neoplatonic monism”:
Julian “was not out to impose a uniform pattern on pagan thought and
44
Athanassiadi (1992: 141). Athanassiadi adopted the same approach in a more recent book, exploring
the formation of “pagan orthodoxy” within late-antique Neoplatonist philosophy. Here she con-
cludes that the actions of Julian (“le jeune calife du paganism”) were informed by the same ideas of
orthodoxy that shaped the lives of Christians and Muslims: “La logique de l’empereur Julien ne
diffère nullement de celle de Proclus et d’Umar, même si nous devons reconnaître à ses paroles un
stade d’intolérance moins avancé” (Athanassiadi (2006: 57)). See too Athanassiadi (2002).
45
Notable examples of this approach can be found in Bowder (1978: 102–3) and Bringmann
(2004: 120).
278 s er g i o k n i pe
practice.”46 While acknowledging the philosophical background of the
emperor, Smith maintains that “the religion of Julian is not finally to be
explained in terms of his philosophy”;47 rather that:
Iamblichean theurgy impinged on him deeply, to be sure; but it was a part of
his personal credo, not the whole of it. It belonged principally to the
philosophic piety of the private man, telling him how the universe cohered
and the happy fate that awaited his soul.48
The conclusions reached in the previous sections of this chapter, in the
attempt to elucidate Julian’s attitude to public worship, suggest an altogether
different way of envisaging the influence of philosophy on the religious
project of the emperor. Smith’s analysis, while accurate in its portrayal of
Julian’s political ideology, underestimates the extent to which theurgy
affected both his perception of kingship and his religious policy. Against
Smith, I would argue that philosophical doctrine not only played an impor-
tant role in shaping Julian’s personal religious convictions, but that it also
informed his actions on a public, political level. Yet against Athanassiadi,
I would argue that the influence of philosophy on Julian’s reign emerges not
in any attempt to formulate the “dogmas of paganism,” but in the emperor’s
desire to secure and foster effective means of worship. The raison d’être of
Julian’s career as a “reformer of polytheism”49 lies precisely in his champion-
ship of effective forms of sacrificial cult: a philosophical concern that is
among the most distinctive features of Julian’s religious endeavor.
One central trait in Julian’s self-identity as the champion of paganism
that unambiguously emerges from the Batnae incident is the emperor’s
conviction that the mere performance of sacrificial actions is not enough to
secure the enduring favor of the gods: there was more to sacrificial cult, for
Julian, than the ritualized slaughter of animals and the burning of incense.
As emperor and pontifex maximus, Julian clearly perceived his primary duty
as that of guiding his subjects towards genuine worship. The necessary
“external” measures taken by Julian towards a restoration of cult won him
the traditional epithets of restaurator templorum and ἀνανεωτὴς τῶν
ἱερῶν;50 yet to prove effective, these measures had to be integrated by
a transformative action on a deeper level. While Julian could decree the

46
R. Smith (1995: xv and 222). Smith is here reacting against Athanassiadi’s definition of Hellenism as
“the monotheistic universal faith systematized by the emperor” (Athanassiadi (1992: 181)). Cf.
Bowersock (1978: 86).
47 48
R. Smith (1995: 221). R. Smith (1995: 113). 49 Fowden (1998: 543).
50
On the surviving inscriptions commemorating Julian in these terms, see Negev (1969), Bowersock
(1978: 123–4), Arce (1984: 164), Oikonomides (1987), Eck (2000), Bringmann (2004: 83–4).
 A Quiet Slaughter? 279
material execution of given sacrificial ceremonies, he could not guarantee
the spiritual effectiveness of these rites. Without virtuous and knowledge-
able practitioners, Julian’s restoration of the temples would have proven
useless: it would merely have encouraged the kind of empty sacrificial
display the emperor criticized at Batnae. His restoration of sacrificial wor-
ship was as much about quality as it was about quantity.
When Julian became emperor, perhaps the most significant step he
wished to take towards the restoration of pagan worship was to cultivate
the aptness and integrity of those who were to sacrifice in his place.
The emperor strove to ensure that each civic community would have
a competent figure to mediate its relation with the divine, in such a way
as to regulate the process of religious interaction on which his own salva-
tion and the prosperity of his subjects depended.51 Julian bestowed the
greatest rank and authority on his priests. As living links connecting men to
the gods, in the mind of the emperor, priests deserved to be among the
most powerful men in the Empire.52 This new emphasis on the dignity of
the priestly class entailed onerous responsibilities, as Julian believed priests
to “minister to us what concerns the gods and contribute to the gods’ gifts
of good things to us: for they sacrifice and pray on behalf of all men.”53
Accordingly, members of the priesthood were expected to prove suffi-
ciently knowledgeable, virtuous, and pious to undertake sacrificial assign-
ments with effectiveness.
Scholars seeking to portray Julian’s policy of restoration as an attempt to
establish a “pagan Church” have made much of the emperor’s letters to his
priests. Once described as “encyclicals” officially distributed to oversee the
education of the pagan priesthood, these letters are now thought to possess
a more private and less systematic character.54 In particular, a re-evaluation
of Julian’s correspondence has become necessary following Peter van
Nuffeln’s compelling suggestion that the so-called Letter to Arsacius

51
“For the gods have ordered priests to honor them with their nobility of character and the practice of
virtue, and to perform the necessary rituals; but it is fitting for the city, I believe, to offer both private
and public sacrifice” (Jul. Misopogon 362d).
52
See Jul. Letter to a Priest 289a and 296c and Ep. 18 esp. 450d ff. 53
Jul. Letter to a Priest 296b.
54
Five letters of Julian to members of his priesthood are usually included among the emperor’s
correspondence: two To a Priest (one of which is Ep. 19), two To the High Priest Theodorus (Ep. 16
and 20), and one To Arsacius, High–Priest of Galatia (Ep. 22). Asmus (1896) notably suggested that
these letters were part of a lost corpus which Julian had first published in the form of “encyclicals.”
Mario Mazza has explicitly rejected Asmus’ approach, and instead described the surviving letters as
“un profondo, appassionato, ed a volte disorganico, discorso sul ruolo e sulla funzione del sacerdote
pagano” (Mazza (1998: 38)). Nevertheless, most contemporary studies of Julian still portray these
letters as “encyclicals.” For some recent examples, see O’Meara (2003: 122), Renucci (2000: 325),
Athanassiadi (2006: 68), Rosen (2006: 297 and 300).
280 s er g i o k n i pe
might be a fifth-century fabrication.55 The value of Julian’s correspondence
now appears to lie not in its “pastoral overtones,”56 but in its character as
“un cours de philosophie morale.’57 Their content is indicative of Julian’s
own perception of cult and of how priests should act towards the promo-
tion of public worship. Like a “Mirror of Princes,”58 these letters prove
valuable for the ideal of priesthood they project: an ideal entirely consistent
with Julian’s philosophical understanding of sacrificial dynamics.
Julian’s approach to the pagan priesthood, as it emerges from his own
writing, reflects a belief best voiced by the Neoplatonist philosopher
Porphyry: if priests “think they honor the gods and believe in the existence
of the gods, yet neglect to be virtuous and wise, they negate and dishonor
the gods.”59 Julian wished his priests to act as servants of the gods,60
sacrificing, like himself, twice a day, at dawn and dusk.61 Priests were
expected to keep pure and free “from . . . shameful acts”62 by avoiding
pastimes such as the theatre and public games, or the reading of licentious
literature;63 and were instructed to devote themselves to philosophy
instead, studying the works of the true philosophers within the sacred
precincts of the temples.64 Because of the moral and intellectual founda-
tion of Julian’s reformed priesthood, priests were expected to be appointed
not on the basis of rank or wealth, but of spiritual worth:65 a principle best
illustrated by the emperor’s appointment of theurgists Theodorus and
Chrysanthius as high priests.66
In a world where civic priesthood was closely related to political office,67
Julian’s religious vision constitutes an extraordinary step towards

55
Van Nuffeln (2002). The Letter to Arsacius proved a particularly valuable document in support of the
view that Julian was attempting to establish a “pagan Church” because it explicitly refers to the
feeding of the poor as one of the duties of a pagan priest. As van Nuffeln suggests, whoever wrote this
letter projected a Christian model of ecclesiastical charity on the religious policy of the emperor.
56
Gibbon (1896: 447). The same expression is found in Athanassiadi (1992: 163).
57
Van Nuffeln (2002: 143). 58 This analogy is found in O’Meara (2003: 122).
59
Porph. Ad Marc. 23. 60 See Jul. Letter to a Priest 297a.
61 62
See Jul. Ep. 89b.302ab. Cf. Lib. Or. 12.80–1 and 18.127. Jul. Letter to a Priest 300c.
63
See Jul. Letter to a Priest 302d–303a and 304b.
64
See Jul. Letter to a Priest 300d, 300c–301c, 302d–303a, 304d.
65
“I say that in all cities the best men, and especially those who show most love for the gods, followed
by those who show most love for their fellow men, must be appointed, whether they be poor or rich:
let there be no distinction here whether they are unknown or well known” (Jul. Letter to a Priest
305a).
66
See Eun. VS 478 and 501; Jones, Martindale and Morris (1971: 110 and 787). According to Eunapius,
Chrysanthius had studied for some time with Maximus of Ephesus “and like him was passionately
absorbed in divine inspiration” (VS 474). The two men were summoned to join the emperor on his
Persian campaign, but Chrysanthius declined the offer on account of negative omens.
67
On the close relation between socio-political status and civic priesthood in the ancient world, see
Szemler (1972) and Gordon (1990: 194).
 A Quiet Slaughter? 281
a redefinition of the priestly class as an entirely new caste. The sacrificial
ideal voiced in Julian’s writing is something more than a philosophical
trope: for it is grounded in a concrete concern for sacrificial efficacy. With
his public reform, it is as if the emperor sought to correct the irreligious
course of the world by providing each community with an exemplar of
effective sacrificial worship. Just as Julian himself acted as a model for his
priesthood, his priests were expected to act as models for the citizens under
their religious jurisdiction, “as an example of what they ought to preach the
people”: “reverence towards the gods.”68 Through a kind of religious
trickle-down effect, Julian was hoping to extend the virtues of sacrificial
piety from the priests to the rest of his subjects, the former instructing the
latter “not to transgress the law of the gods.”69
Julian’s aspiration to educate his priesthood testifies to the indissoluble
link between pagan identity and organized sacrificial worship: no attempt
to reinforce the old religion could be made without directly engaging with
the central cult act that lay at its basis. Julian’s concern for piety as
a prerequisite for worship in turn expresses a very particular and philoso-
phically informed view on the question of sacrificial efficacy. It reminds us
that what was primarily at stake in the ancient debate over blood sacrifice
was its function as a bridge between two worlds, the human and the divine.
Julian’s career shows how an ancestral ritual such as sacrifice could be
reaffirmed in the fourth century by situating it within a sophisticated new
intellectual framework; in doing so, it focuses our attention on the con-
stitutive features of Greek sacrificial practice as such: on what sacrifice
meant – or could mean – for those practicing it in the ancient world.
The edifying and educational character of Julian’s reform makes it
a truly unique project in the history of the Roman Empire. Julian’s reform
shared a willingness with the religious policies of Maximinus and Decius to
take sacrificial conformity as a universal marker of religious legitimacy.
So much so, in fact, that it sought to reintegrate even the Jews in the
religious fabric of the Empire by rebuilding their cult edifice in Jerusalem:
for in the sacrificial rites of the Jewish people Julian identified a proof of the
antiquity and authenticity of their religion – as opposed to Christianity,
the only mass movement to have rejected sacrificial practice, and which the
emperor denounced as a recent innovation.70 Unlike his predecessors,

68
Jul. Letter to a Priest 299b. 69 Jul. Letter to a Priest 288d–289a. Cf. 292d–293a.
70
See, in particular, Jul. CG 43a–b, 100c, 141c–43b, 148c, 184b–90c, 218b–24d, 235b ff., 238b ff., 299c,
305e ff., 343c ff. and 354b ff., Ep. 20 454a–b, Letter to a Priest 295c–d, Ep. 47. On Julian’s attitude to
Judaism and his attempt to restore the temple of Jerusalem – which won him the label of “Zionist”
(Allard (1901) and Wright (1913–23: vol. iii: xxi)) – see Bregman (1995) and Hahn (2002).
282 s er g i o k n i pe
however, Julian was unwilling to enforce sacrificial practice out of
a philosophical regard for ritual purity. Julian’s religious reform not only
affected the practical organization of pagan worship in the Empire, but
ideally pursued a transformative goal on a deeper level: the emperor under-
stood his restoration of public temple worship as the more tangible side of
a civic project based on an inner, moral revolution. This religious ideal of
Julian is perhaps best conveyed in the words of Libanius:
A happy city [Julian proclaimed] is one that is rich in temples and secret
ceremonies, and contains within its walls countless holy priests who dwell in
the sacred precincts and who, in order to keep everything within their gate
pure, have expelled all that is superfluous and sordid and vicious from the
city: public baths, brothels, retail shops and everything of the sort without
exception.71
Julian’s desire to shame the pagan priesthood into righteousness,72 there-
fore, cannot be read as a mere indication of his “high regard for philoso-
phy,” as Smith would suggest.73 Rather, it reflects a very concrete concern
of the emperor: to nurture a new generation of ritual specialists, whose
religious action would be informed by the same philosophical principles on
which he himself based his own commitment to sacrificial practice. At the
same time, Julian’s desire to ensure the moral rectitude of his priests
constituted less of an attempt to advance paganism as a righteous religion
through the establishment of “pagan dogmas” than it did to safeguard the
correct functioning of sacrificial ceremonies. The fact that the emperor
wished to mediate public cult through a philosophical elite freed from the
limitations of rank and wealth is indicative of his desire to ensure that the
sacrificial rites offered by his subjects would prove effective in securing pax
deorum. While there is little evidence to suggest that Julian possessed either
the means or a willingness directly to enforce philosophical conformity, the
role of Neoplatonist doctrine in shaping his religious policy was certainly
conspicuous.
With his hero Iamblichus Julian shared an ideal of sacrificial practice as
a necessary act of transcendent communion, an act that had to be informed
by philosophical awareness, moral rectitude, and technical competence in
order to prove effective. Theurgy, by definition, was the esoteric pursuit of
a chosen few; pax deorum a condition that interested the Empire as a whole.
Given these conditions, the securing of public religious prosperity for
Julian largely remained the active responsibility of a chosen elite, to

71 72 73
Lib. Or. 9.186d. See Jul. Ep. 20.453a. R. Smith (1995: 111).
 A Quiet Slaughter? 283
which the populace could contribute through sincere prayers and virtuous
conduct. As theurgist and sovereign, Julian placed himself at the head of
this religious elite, and sought to promote piety by acting as a worthy
exemplar. The emperor never intended theurgy to become of public
interest, but hoped that the positive model of sacrificial devotion he and
his philosophical peers embodied could contribute to changing the actions
of his subjects for the better. At the basis of Julian’s religious reform lay
the very Roman concern with the peace of the gods; yet this traditional
concern was mediated by a distinctly philosophical understanding of
sacrificial dynamics. Far from pertaining merely to the intellectual sphere,
Julian’s sense of ritual expertise shaped his attempt at pagan restoration in
a concrete way. Only by taking account of the philosophical dimension
of Julian’s religiosity, and its impact on his understanding of sacrificial
worship, can the radical scope and nature of Julian’s project be appreciated
fully.
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 Index locorum

Aelian 61,125
NA 188-9, 224
4^74 226,112
5.28, 68 230-1,113
10.16, 262 234,112
10.21, 260 587-8, 230
11.6-9, S2 929-41, 235
11.9, 52 Suppl
I7-46, 75 676-7, 91
HV Agora
I-I5, 74 16.161,143
311,133 Anacreon
Aeschines fr.348, 51
^224145 Anaxandrides, 263
Aeschylus, 223-35 Protesilaus calendarfrom Larissa, 96
AS- Anth.PaL
134-8, 52 6.231, 83, 87
140-3, 52 Apollodorus
262,120 Bibl.
1019-21, 231 2.5-3-, 52
1037-8, 227 2412^188
1322-3, 230 Epit.
1388-92, 234 3-21-2, 52
Cho. Apollonius of Rhodes
48, 231 4.690-717,120-2
152-3, 231 Appian
447-8, 231 B Civ.
Dikt. 5-io, 131
823, 234 Aristides
Eum. Sacred Tales
107,120 3.44-60, 81
262-3, 231 Ml- 63
283, no Aristophanes
656, 228 Ach.
fr- 44, 235 44 Schol., 128
.fr.327,125 1217, 234
PV Birds
496-7,106 707, 72
496-9, 23, 29 1303, 82
Sept. Eq.
42-53, 223 1285, 233, 234

327
328 Index locorum
Aristophanes (cont.) Diodorus
Lys. I. 88, 256, 258
186-206, 232-4 4,13-14,197
1221233 II. 29.2, 224
196-7, 233 Diogenes, 275
1129-30, 228
Nub. Eudoxus of Cnidus, 256
978, 234 Euripides
Pax Ba.
192-3,185 &)7-9> 230
202, 185 Cretan Women, 96
386-8,185 Cycl.
1039-40, 23 243-6, 46
1053 (SchoL), 29 471, 228
1053-5, 23 Hel.
Plut. 1588, 227
1128-30,185 1612, 227
1136-7,185 1663, 227
Aristotle HeracL
HA 821-2, 226
488823, 79 HF
540a, 54 922-41,122
572824, 233 IA
61437, 66, 75 1555-1600,43
Pol. IT
13298, 263 644-5, 228
Arrian 1123-4,132
Anab. 1163, 129
7.20.3-5, jZ I22I-5, 129
Athenaeus Phoen.
7,297e-8a, 18 1257-8, 232
9.384, 96
9,4108,133 Heraclitus
14,646c, 51 fr-5, 126
Herodas
Bacchylides Women Sacrificing to
fr.11,125 Asclepius, 65
Herodotus
Callimachus F34a, 196
fi.260, 234 Herodotus
Hymn. 1
2.60-4, 22 35> HA
Castor, 175 131-2, 253
Cathartic Law of Cyrene, 113,129 2.
Cato 38-47, 259-63
J^r., 130-2 38-9, 233
141,130 45. 82
CPG 49-51, 262
1.225-6, 228 81, 263
3
Demosthenes 11, 230
23.72,116 38
24.60,116 3,193
Dicaearchus 4
jr.57-8, 263 35133
 Index locorum 329
61-2, 253 11
70, 23° 670-1,188
188, 253 711—2,196
1 Od.
83,2,93 1
if 4-11, 49
67-8, 225 66,185
Z 456-9, 23
132.2, 224 h

2 246, 234
61-2, 224 14
Heropythos ZL43
Fi,l8 19
Hesiod 536-7,25
F256,121 Homeric Hymns
F378, 258 to Apollo
Theog. 131-2,185
440,89 423-4,196
516-607,148 to Hermes, 181-99
532-7, 23
535-57, 2 lamblichus, 278
535-60,186 Myst.
535-7,15,148 5,265
55i, 190 65,272
WD IG
47-8,148 LI
336-7, 23 255,168
Hippocrates 2^2
Art.53, 58,159 0659, 74
Fist.7.20, 97 1275,144
Haem.).}, 97 1283,143
Superf.33.1, 97 1289,141
t7Zf.2i.4, 97 1359,168
Hittite texts 1367, 66
KBo 4
n.t4i23-5, 248 1588, 93
i2,96iviO-4, 4.2
250 40-1, 66
KUB
9.3214-14, 245 287A67, 75
12.4
121-38, 252 274
iv56-77, 245 18-21, 159
2O.96iv3—6, 244 278, 159, 161, 166, 175
Homer 298A
II. II-2, 175
I 58-62, I75
460-3, 23 112
2 19-23,159
422-5> ai 12.5
591-2,196 254, 215
1
300, 229 Josephus
6. Ap.
500, 230 1.238-9, 263
330 Index locorum
Julian 54
Hymn to the Mother ofthe Gods, 272 2-10,171
Juvenal 52,152
6.540y I- 3,156, 176
Z11I53
Letter to Arsacius, 279 7^152
Leviticus Zi
1-2,152. 9-i4,154
Lex sacra from Selinous ^74
A17-20, 31,115 9f
Libanius, 282 II- 5,158
LSAM LSCG
31142
5- 8,152 2,172
7- 8,161 11,168
12 12
14, V4 4-7,169
19-22,165 22ii68
Li io
141124 41124
14-5,154 32174
16 22-4,127
25-6, 132 45,155
20 52, 66, 70
151137 55,152
33,J37 9- 10,162,169,
22,174 174
23 60, 66
15- 6,175 10- 7,176
2-6,132 65
24 67-8,127
13-25,154 69, 118
32,195 32-6,162
33 76,114
b86-7,137 89
if, & 6>31
3Z 9f
8- 10,154 7-8,162
321171 103
21-3,121 15-20,154
421173 118
4-6,157,171 22,137
44,170,171 38,137
6-7,152 119
8-12,170 3-9,173
46,157, 158, 171,176 120, 166
1-6, 163 1-5,173
if 125
16- 8,155,170 21174
171157 126, 67
521157 135
34- 6,172 83,18
35- 6,187 136,113
52B 151
4- 7,155,170 A52,187
5- 6,124 151B, 152
 Index locorum 33i
17-21,168
BI9,113 5
161, 67 37-8, 41
172, 66 9, 66
177 3» J74
62-3,18 11
LSS 24-5,175
20,173
B32-5,169
*91 W Ovid
61 Fasti
40-65, 43 1.451-2, 74
70 1-453-4, 78
3> 165
76 Panyassis
3— 7, 173 F26, 258
77 papyri
4-8,173 BGU7.1301, 83
78 Derveni Papyrus
4-8,173 cols. 2, 70
81 ‘Oracle of the Potter’, 257
29-30,41 P. Cair.Zen.4.39360, 83
158,165 P. Oxy.27.2465, 83
108,70 P. Washington 1, 260
173 Pausanias
230 1.24.2, 23
2-5,173 r.34.5, 117
Lucian 1.37.4, n8
DDS 2.11.7, 69
45, 75 2.30.2, 89
De sacrif. 2-30-4, 93
3,23 523.9, 23
Prom. 3.16.8, no
I9.23 7-i8.ii, 53
Timon 7.18.12, 92
9, 23 8.38.2, 52
Lycurgus 8.38.8, 23
Leocr. 9-39-3, 93
8of, 224 10.32.16, 78, 87
Pherecydes
Manetho F17, 258
F14, 257, 258 Philochorus
F20, 256 Pl73, 46
F22, 257, 258 Philostratus
F83, 264 Imag.
MDAI(A) 1.28.6, 52
66.228,142 Pindar
Menander 01. 1
Dys. 92,196
447-53, 23 01.3
28-30,52
NGSL OL5
£.168 5,196
15- 21,160 Ol. 6
16-7, 31 67-70,197
332 Index locorum
Pindar (cont.) Propertius
OLio, 197
43-60, 197
48, 196 SEG
Plato 11.1112,139
Critias 21.519, 224
H9e-i2oa, 230 24.203,150
Leg. 29.1088,154
871a, 116 30.1283,171
886a, 116 43-399A, 4*
9090-9103, 145 47.196A-B, 167
910b, 145 49-1314> 74
Phd 52.1064,15s
ii7e-n8a, 63, 6$ 54-214, 159, 167
Resp. 56.996,174
264c, 97 56^7, 173
Plato Com. 57-2674,162
Phaon fr.188, 233 Sophocles
Plautus Ant.
Menaechmi 290,129 o8o6f£, 230
Pliny 1005-11, 23, 232
HN El.
8.206,129 5<59>42.
178,44 Ichneutai, 193
Plutarch OC, in
Ages- 475.129
114. 67 OT
De soil. an. 0239-40, 228
983c, 22 1275-81, 235
DIO 1278, 234
354a, 262 Track.
362-3C, 256 214,51
363b, 260 Statius
37ib-c, 256 Theb.
38oc-e, 257 9.900-1, 230
435b-c, 86 Strabo
Inst. Lac. 14.1.29, 42
238f, 67 16.3.2, 52
Lyc. 17.1.23, 259
22.2-3, 227 Syll.
QConv. 271,142
6.10.1, 66, too 786, 230
Thes.
12.1, 118 Theocritus
Polybius Id. 02.66, 52
4.17-8, 75 Id. 24,112
4.18.10, 52 Theognis
Porphyry, 146—8 1.1145-6, 23
Abst. Theophrastus, 65
1_2>I4Z Char. 27.5,197
2.10, 146 fr.584a, 263
2.26, 263 Theopompus
2.55, 257, 264 Fi58, 224
Ad Marc Trag.Adesp.
23, 280 458,160
 Index locorum 333
Varro 2-2.9, 225
Rust. L13Z.41
2.4.16,129
Cyn.
5J4.52
Xenophon Rep.Lac.
Anab. 1^8,22/
 General Index

Aegina, 54, 84–94 Ourania, 26, 27, 28, 76

aetiology of sacrifice, 6, 146–8, 194, 195, 197 Pandemos, 74, 127
Africa, 1 Apollo
age, of sacrificial victims, 132, 211, 245 Apotropaios, 129
Aigai, 41 Daphnephoros, 35
akroskhion, 166 Delian, 81
Alexander the Great, 52 Hylates, 26
alimentary system, 5, 49, 53, 55, 60, 77, 94–7 Maleatas, 176
altar activity, 20 Apophis, 255
altars Ares, 67, 223
anonymous, 120 armpits (maskhalismata), 160, 161, 165, 168
ash altar, 195 Artemis, 48–62
assemblages of bones burned on altars, 24–33 Elaphebolos, 51
at Olympia, 196, 197 Ephesia, 53
blood-soaked, 268 Hekate and, 91
bones burned on, 23 Khitone, 74
death at, 37–41 Laphria, 53, 54, 92
high-stepped, 85, 91 Orthia, 37
horned, 34 Phylake, 65, 70, 75
in Egyptian religion, 259 Potnia Theron, 91
in Hittite religion, 249 Tauropolos, 52
marking border between gods and Asclepius, 37, 63, 65, 68, 69, 208, 213
humans, 204 cockerel sacrifice and, 65, 68–9, 72
of horns, 22 assembly, Hittite great, 248
of skulls, 34 Assyria, 99
of Zeus, 124 Atargatis, 75
on votive reliefs, 206 Athena, 36, 208, 211
public, 115 Alea, 42
ambassi, 99 Nikephoros, 165
Amosis, 258 Athens, 22, 26, 27, 28, 64, 65, 66, 74, 116,
Amphiaraos, 117, 230 119, 201, 202, 210
Amphiareion, 65, 117, 162 Athenian Agora, 97
Amun-Ra, 82 Athenians on Aegina, 88
Anatolia, 57, 59, 85, 99, 239–52 classical Athenian imagery, 77
ANTAHSUM festival, 245 ekklesia, 127
antelopes, 33, 49, 56, 57 Hecate and, 91
apargmata, 32 hieropoioi, 109
Aphrodisias, 74 Sacred Laws, 167–70
Aphrodite sacred regulations, 136–50
Euploia, 83 suppliants at, 133

334
 General Index 335
basket, 216 Clinton, K., 117, 126
Bassai, 17 cockerels, 65–72, 265
battle colour
pre-battle sacrifice, 223–34 of sacrificial victims, 245
bears, 33, 37, 49, 243, 251 commensality, 49, 56, 62, 69, 90, 95, 98, 248
binary classication of sacrifice, 107 Constantinople, 268
birds, 37, 243, 244 consumption debris, 20, 21
sacrifice of, 63–101 costly signaling, 11
white, 268 costs, of victims, 210, 219, 244
black costs, of votive reliefs, 218
black victims in Hittite sacrifice, 245 cows, 245
blood, 182 Apollo’s, 181
sheep, 119 taboo in Egyptian religion, 259
blood, 39, 55, 56, 223, 226, 229 usantari cow in Hittite religion, 250
as purificatory agent, 110, 120, 121, 122 crocodiles, 33, 256, 265
blood guilt, 125 cursing, 229, 260
blood libations, 99 Cyrene, 43
in Hittite sacrifice, 242, 247
in oath-taking, 223–35 Damia and Auxesia, 93–4
on altars, 268 deer, 33, 36–7, 41, 47, 48–62, 209, 243
boars, 33, 233, 243 Delian temple accounts, 81
boiling, 45–6, 172 Delos, 53, 69
bones, 15–47, 48–51, 55, 58, 67, 69, 71, 76, 93, 106, Delphi, 121
156, 164, 168, 246 Delphic oracle, 147
brain, 167, 168 Demeter, 45
brains, 225, 229, 232 Derveni Papyrus, 70
bulls, 22, 127 Detienne, Marcel, 3, 48, 62, 105, 239
bull’s blood, 223 Diogenes, 275
in Egyptian religion, 254, 259 Dionysius I, 198
in Hittite religion, 244, 245, 250 Dionysus, 66, 256, 261
in votive relief, 208 Dionysiac dimension, 70
Burkert, Walter, 3, 5, 7, 62, 147, 181, 184, 229, divine portion, 6, 152, 156–69, 177, 195
250, 251 Dodecatheon, 192–3
on Olympia, 189 domestic, 48–9
theory of sacrifice, 60 ass as a domestic animal, 257
burning, 244 domestic cults, 132
Busiris, 258 domesticated animals, 39, 40, 50, 51
butchering refuse, 21 domestication, 1, 33, 34, 36–7
donkeys, 243
cakes, 51 doves, 52, 73–7, 81, 82, 93, 127
calendars white, 74
deme calendars, 61 ducks, 64, 82, 98
festival, 61
sacred calendar from Larissa, 65, 70, 75 Egyptian deities, 70
sacrificial, 33, 108, 140, 151, 158, 159, 210, 220 Egyptian sacrifice, 127, 253–66
camels, 33 Eileithyaspolis, 257
cats, 33 El Juyo, 58
chickens, 33 Empedocles’ Katharmoi, 198
China, 1 enemy
Chios, 172–4 sacrificial victims symbolising, 83, 254–9
Christianity, 1, 2, 127, 268 entrails, 131, 134, 170–7, 225, 260
chthonic, 2, 70, 101, 108 Enyalios, 40
chthonic sphere and Hecate, 91 Enyo, 223
Olympian versus, 107, 189 ephebes, 44, 197
circumambulatio, 130 ephebic oath, 227
336 General Index
Ephesos, 22, 27, 28, 34, 36 hearths, 38, 39, 43, 45, 120, 143, 246
deer at, 51 happina, 246
hunting at, 53 hearts, 265
Epimenides, 119 in Hittite sacrifice, 246–8
Eudoxus of Cnidus, 256 Hebe, 75
Eumenides, 111 Hekate, 40, 169
Eurasian sacrifice, 60 and Artemis, 91
exomis, 204 maritime, 94
extremities, 171 on Aegina, 89–92
Heliopolis, 257, 258
farming, 59, 94 Helios, 40, 164
fat, 15, 23, 46, 97, 113, 183, 186, 246, hepatoscopy, 247
260, 262 Heracles, 52, 66, 72, 75, 100, 208
fire and Geryon’s cattle, 188
fire cooking, 246 and Olympia, 197
fish, 18–19, 37, 63, 75, 90, 100, 209 baby, 112
as delicacies, 97 on Thasos, 42
as symbols, 99 purification of, 122–5
fishbones, 38, 76 Heraia, 110
in Hittite religion, 243, 244 Heraion, 45
on votive reliefs, 212 heralds, 127, 161
foxes, 33, 37 Herkyna, 94
frankincense, 83, 260, 267 Hermes
Aphrodite and, 41, 67
Geb, 82 Apollo and, 192, 196
gender of sacrificial victims, 245 Hekate and, 90
gene, 137, 141 Homeric Hymn to, 199
genos Koan, 175
Eupatridai, 132–5 Nymphs and, 43
Koiranidai, 141 Olympia and, 196
Phytalidai, 118 Prometheus and, 189, 199
Salaminioi, 108 sanctuary at Kato Syme, 41
Gernet, L., 141 heroes, 5, 107, 145, 201, 204
gift, 239 bird offerings to, 64–73
grilling, 45–6, 261 hero cult, 21
Grottanelli, C., 251 Heroes and Demeter, 36, 42, 45
grove, sacred, 111 Heroon at Nemea, 26
Gudea of Lagash, 57 offerings to, 175
guilt, 5, 147 hestiatoria, 38
guilty person, 114, 115, 116, 121 hetaireia, 138
hides, 44, 152, 153
hair Hermes and, 193, 197
animal hair burned on altar, 43 hide attached to back, 158
combing of, 227 sale of, 166
cutting off, 39 hip, 156, 159, 165, 166, 168–70, 174, 176
half hippopotamus, 33, 253, 256
half sections of animals, 22, 250 Hittite sacrifice, 56, 239–52
half sections of head, 173 Hittite stag rhyton, 56
Halikarnassos. Mausoleum, 23 holocausts, 20, 21, 40, 44, 69, 70, 73, 78, 82, 87,
hares, 37, 50, 52, 57, 93, 243 107–8, 261
Harpokrates, 83 horns, 34, 254
heads, 36, 41, 49, 55, 160, 167–70, 195, 246 altars of, 22
half-head, 167–8, 170, 174 gilded, 87
holding an animal above the head, 121 of consecration, 85
in Egyptian sacrifice, 260 on votives, 211
 General Index 337
horses, 33, 36, 37, 40, 47, 243 knife
horse bones, 36 sacrificial, 123
white, 233 knise, 15, 23
Horus, 82 Kommos, 38
Hubert, Henri, 3, 239 Kore, 94
human sacrifice, 107, 123, 257–9, 263 Kos, 65
hunter-gatherers, 5 Kylabris, 18
hunting, 53, 58–61
and sacrifice, 49, 55, 58–61, 254 Lake Copais, 97
forbidden, 52 lake, sacred, 81, 82, 91
hunting trophies, 50 lamentation, 231, 261
ritualized, 243 Larissa, 65, 70
Seth as a hunter, 262 laws
Hyksos, 257 of the polis, 136–50
sacred, 33, 41, 44, 52, 78, 113, 114, 127, 151, 186,
Ialysos, 165 187, 272
Iamblichus, 278 legs, 37, 41, 79, 168, 174
Iasos, 156 back legs, 32
Idalion, 74 equivalence between fore- and hindlegs, 163–4
Ikaros, 52 extended leg as prerogative, 152–6, 157–8, 159
incense, 127, 275, 278 forelegs, 29, 30, 37, 160, 161, 261
incense-bearer, 159 in Egyptian sacrifice, 254, 260
India, 1, 3, 255 lower legs, 21, 23, 29
Indian sacrifice, 247 of chicken, 65
intensity, in rituals, 173 rear legs, 41
Iphigeneia, 53 right and left, 175–6
Ishtar upper legs, 28
of Nineveh, 245 leopards, 243
Isiac Mysteries, 263 Leros, 75
Isis, 5, 63, 69, 83 Lesbos, 67, 116
at Smyrna, 81 libations, 8, 39, 56, 70, 86, 111, 120, 121–2, 223–35
bird sacrifices to, 78–9, 82–4, 86–8 Hittite, 241
Isis-Hygieia, 69 of blood, 99
Isthmia, 29–30 three, 111
liknon, 216
Jameson, M., 61, 107, 226 lions, 91, 185
jaw, 174, 175 liver, 172
Jay, Nancy, 3 goose’s, 96
Jewish sacrifice, 3, 29, 39, 87, 281 in Hittite sacrifice, 246–8
Jews, 264 local aetiology, 194
Julian, 267–83 local alimentary systems, 53, 61, 94, 98, 101
as restorer of temples, 278 local practices, 41, 169
local terminology, 176
kalaidia, 65–7 local variations, 1, 17, 27, 30, 53, 188, 243
Kalapodi, 37, 39, 42, 50–1, 67, 76 Lousoi, 52
Kalaureia, 18–19 lungs, 246
kanephoroi, 207 lustratio classis, 131
kanoun, 204–7 lustrum, 130
Karnak, 82 Luwian, 242
Kato Syme, 41
khernips, 122, 227–31 Manetho, 257
kidneys, 157, 170, 171, 172 Mars, 77, 130
killing, 2, 56, 110, 147, 231, 232, 242 Marseilles tariff, 57
Kindt, Julia, 136, 149 Mauss, M., 240, 252
kiste, 204–7 meat eating, and sacrifice, 33
338 General Index
Mekone, 23 Parker, R., 109, 114, 126, 131, 134, 163
Melampus and Proetides, 121 Parthenos, 75
Men, 70 partridges, 73–6, 81, 97
Men Tyrannos, 162 Patara, 162
Mesolithic, 58 penis, 233, 234
Mesopotamian sacrifice, 56, 82, 239, 242 perdikotropheia, 97
mice, 243 performance, 195–8
Miletus, 170–2 ritual, 206, 216, 218, 221, 262, 276
moirocaust, 32 perks, in sacrifice, 151–77
Molossians, 228, 231 pets, 77, 79, 82, 95, 97
moon, 262 Phoenician bowl, 56
affinity to, 265 phratries, 137, 138, 228
moskhoshragistes, 259 of Demotionidai, 169
Muslim hallal, 39 pigeons, 33
Mut, 259 piglets, 125
Mycenaean sacrifice, 28, 49–51, 81 pigs, 42–3
Myron, 89 for ephebes, 44
in Attica, 146
Near East, 56, 57, 72, 76, 239 in Egyptian religion, 261–2
influence on Greek sacrifice, 29 in Hittite religion, 244
Neolithic, 1, 57–8, 59–61 on votive reliefs, 33, 220–1
Neoplatonism, 272–83 wild, 49
Nilsson, M., 141 Pistoxenos Painter, 79
nine pits, 21, 22, 31, 35, 38, 45, 58, 76, 182
nine victims, 30 Plataia, 224
thrice nine branches, 111 polis, 64, 98, 201, 207
polis-religion, 136–50
oaths, 20, 22, 107, 110, 150, 192 Porphyry, 146–8
oath sacrifice, 223–35 Poseidon
obligation, 252 Helikonios, 163
Oedipus, 111 Temenites, 162
Olympia, 35, 110–11, 196–8 prayer, 1, 2, 39, 107, 111, 145, 229, 260, 283
Olympian sacrifice, 188, 196 kneeling, 208
omentum, 24, 26, 152, 262 to Mars, 130
Opheltes, 175 wineless, 120
Oracle of the Potter, 257 Priapus, 77
oracles, 109, 129, 148 Priene, 69
Delphic, 147 prize, 175
ore, 171 processions, 44, 62, 66, 70, 84, 92, 107, 130, 142,
orgeones, 137–44, 153 176, 204–8, 215, 216, 254
Oropos, 65 Prometheus, 2, 15, 23, 186, 189–93, 194, 199
osphys, 15, 20, 28–9, 30, 31–2, 156–66, Herakles and, 199
171, 172, 176 Hermes and, 189
protmesis, 174
paean, 133 Punic sacrifice, 87
Palaimon, 21 purification
Paleolithic, 57, 60 and sacrifice, 135
Pan, 52, 75 Pylos, 50
Pancrates, 201, 212 Pyre deposits, 23
pancreas, 172
pan-hellenic perspective, 94 rams, 22, 31, 117–18, 127, 162, 201
pan-hellenic sacrifice, 148 Rappaport, R., 61
pan-Mediterranean, 94 red
panthers, 91 red deer, 36–7, 50–1, 55, 57
Paris School, 48, 94 red dye, 255
 General Index 339
red goats, 129, 255 Sun god
red victims, 256 Egyptian, 255
and Typhon, 258 Hittite, 248, 249
reliefs, votive, 4, 33, 42, 53, 84–6, 87, 91, 200–22 suovetaurilia, 130
Rhamnous, 202 suppa, 246–8
ribs, 168, 169 swans, 81, 92
Ricci-hydria, 17, 46 symbolism
right and left, 174–6 in Egyptian sacrifice, 254, 265
of birds, 98–101
sacrifiant, 240 of chicken, 71
sacrum bone, 15, 26–8, 39, 43, 156, 158, 165, 166–7 of deer, 58
sausages, 168, 172, 175, 187 of ear, 169
scapegoats, 110, 243, 245 of geese, 77, 95
scripts of goose, 97
sacrificial, 2, 10 of left v. right, 175
Scythians, 233 of sacrifice, 1, 99, 127
seals of twelve portions, 192
marking animals, 256, 259 of victims, 82, 254
Old Syrian, 57
Selene, 183, 261 tail, 19, 23–30, 38, 39, 42–3, 50, 68, 100, 156–8, 163
sema, 193, 197 tip of, 262
semen, 235 vertebrae, 15
shoulder, 159–63, 164–7, 172, 176, 261 tears, 231, 232
maskhalismata, 170 Tenos, 45
shoulder-blade, 30, 37, 163 testicles, 211, 233
Sicily, 55, 74 Thasos
singers, 176 Herakleion, 36, 38, 42, 45
Sinope, 163 Passage des théores, 22
Skillous, 41, 53 themis, 147
Smith, J. Z., 48, 60 Themis, 149
Smith, Robertson, 3 Theophrastos, 65
Smith, Rowland, 277 theories
smoke, 23, 42 big theories of sacrifice, 2–3, 57
Smyrna, 63 theoxenia, 2, 17, 19, 33, 41, 185, 190, 215
snakes, 33, 112, 243 zooarchaeology and, 29–32
Solon, 138, 139 Thesmophoria, 22
Sourvinou-Inwood, C, 136–9 theurgy, 271–7
sparagmos, 256 thiasotai, 137–8, 142, 144, 149
Sparta, 67, 88, 224, 225, 227 thighbones, 15, 19, 20, 23, 43, 156, 160, 164,
sphagia, 20, 110, 127, 173, 225, 226, 229, 168, 170
232, 234 Thios, 66
splankhna, 170, 172, 191, 225, 261 three
hoi splankhneuontes, 133–5 three blows, 234
spleen, 172, 262 three cuts of meat, 165
Stengel, Paul, 17, 63, 84, 91 three human victims, 257
Storm god of Zippalanda, 244 three libations, 111
substitutes, 3 three liquids, 229
cakes as, 51 three piglets, 127
deer as substitute, 53 three stages of sacrifice, 239
in Hittite religion, 240, 243, three victims, 30, 132
245, 246 tripleuron, 165
one part substituted for another, 171 thysia-sacrifice, 4, 15, 17, 19, 20, 23–9, 30, 31, 39,
substitution, 250 42, 68, 79, 86, 90, 91
sulphur, 112 Tiglath Pilesar I, 57
Sumer, 57 tongue, 157, 162, 167, 168, 171, 172–3, 174
340 General Index
torches, 54, 86, 122, 228 white
torch bearing deity, 89 birds, 268
torch race, 175 cockerel, 70
trapezomata, 19, 30, 41 doves, 74
trees geese, 79, 82, 83, 87, 92, 95
hanging a carcass from, 56 horses, 233
hanging heads and skin from, 49 sheep, 119
trittoia, 22 Wide, Sam, 91
turtles, 33 wine, 114, 229, 231, 260
twelve in oathtaking, 228–30
twelve gods, 193, 196 Thasian, 233
twelve portions, 192
Typhon yellow
Typhonian city, 264 cockerel, 70
Typhonian sacrifice, 254–8 young animals, 128–30, 168
Yoyotte, J., 258
van Straten, F., 8, 33, 55, 86, 201, 210, 212, 220
vegetal Zeus
gate, 250 fleece of Zeus, 117
offerings, 2, 140, 263 Hikesios, 125
Venus, 74 Katharsios, 111, 120, 125
Vernant, Jean-Paul, 3, 48, 62, 94, 105 Labraundos, 162
votive reliefs, 33, 42, 53, 87, 89, 91, 92, 200–22 Megistos, 156
of goose sacrifice, 84–6 Meilikhios, 31, 119, 204, 208
votive stelai, 4 Nemeios, 175
votives, exotic fauna as, 34, 49 of Demotionidai, 169
vultures, 33 Palamnaios, 120
Philios, 270
wax, 255 Polieus, 147, 159, 161
images, 257 Xenios, 125
weasels, 33 zooarchaeology, 15–47