If we want to progress … we should be aware that some of our traditional terminology imposes an interpretative ‘strait jacket’ on archaeological discourse. (Driessen, Reference Driessen, Driessen, Schoep and Laffineur2002: 13)
Architectural historians looking at a plan of Buckingham Palace or a Baroque Roman palace rarely concern themselves with specific definitions of a palace.Footnote 1 For archaeologists, however, this can be more of a conundrum.Footnote 2 When archaeologists examine the remains of an ancient building they lack a full understanding of the experiential aspects of the original structure, due as much to intervening years and the natural processes of degradation as to the intangible and irretrievable nuances of ancient cultural context lost through time. Fortunately, analyses of accompanying artifacts, comparative structures and theoretical constructs provide archaeologists with the means to assign a name to the structure and to conjecture about an ancient architectural experience that was ingrained and familiar to the original inhabitants. This is a necessary and familiar process, which allows archaeological discourse to progress. But, as Jan Driessen noted in the quotation given above, this process is imperfect, particularly when terminology is applied without full consideration of how a structure may have been experienced in its own place and time.
A group of monumental buildings dating to the sixth century bc from the Etruscan area of central Italy, sometimes referred to as palaces, or palazzi, serves as an example of the dangers and pitfalls of such an interpretative ‘strait jacket’. The nomenclature assigned to these buildings, which are generally characterized by several rooms arranged in linear wings around a central courtyard, has a complicated modern history. While the Italian term ‘palazzo’ can be used generically to refer to any large building, the equivalent English word ‘palace’ carries more specific connotations of political and élite status. Moreover, in classical archaeological scholarship the term ‘palace’ strongly signals links to well-known palatial structures from the ancient Near East and bronze age Greece. By labelling these buildings as ‘palaces’, Etruscan archaeologists and architectural historians have contributed to a perception of the buildings as dwellings and administrative centres for wealthy rulers who maintained control over the surrounding territory, comparable to their neighbours in the east. As a result, the buildings have been pigeon-holed architecturally, firmly placed between iron age huts and the Roman atrium house as an intermediary stage of domestic architecture, and one that has strong implications for socio-political organization.Footnote 3
A key concept in defining the nature of a palace, whether in archaeology or architectural history, is movement. Palace architecture is usually characterized by an intricate series of rooms and internal divisions, which, particularly due to the hierarchical relationship that is presumed to exist between palace residents and visitors, exerts a certain degree of control over the movements of those who enter. In fact, in many cases, it is the complex nature of a building's architectural plan that is the first and foremost signifier of its palatial identity. Although attention has been directed towards the interior mechanics of movement in other studies of palaces, such approaches have been largely neglected in the long discussion of the Etruscan palazzi. For example, scholarship on palaces from bronze age Crete considers the experience of ancient visitors to palace structures as a way to access their actual use by a community. Such analyses have moved beyond the simple definitions of function and social significance to include spatial and architectural approaches, such as comparative analyses of spatial patterning and the relationship between interior and exterior spaces. Particularly noteworthy are studies documenting the vital role of a central courtyard in defining movement and access patterns in palace structures.Footnote 4 In this essay, my goal is to strip away the misperceptions that arise when these monumental structures of Archaic Etruria are viewed through a palatial lens. Rather, I wish to direct our attention to the raw material of the archaeological evidence through analyses of movement and mechanics. To begin, I shall demonstrate the impact the label of ‘palace’ has had on the interpretation of these structures and their place within the history of Etruscan architecture. Through an examination of the excavation history and scholarship of the two most frequently cited examples of Etruscan palaces at the sites of Poggio Civitate (Murlo) and Acquarossa (Viterbo), I argue that early debates on function and social significance shaped the writing of these buildings' architectural history, and eventually resulted in the acceptance of them as palaces with all of the attendant social and cultural baggage associated with the word. My aim then is to shift the focus away from architectural labels and instead examine the patterns of movement and interior mechanics of the Etruscan palace and its distinctive courtyard arrangment. In so doing, I argue that the Etruscan archaeologist may recover how these different structures were experienced and thus get that much closer to understanding ancient Etruscan architectual practice.
ARCHAIC ETRUSCAN PALACES
Although the term ‘palace’ has been associated with several pre-Roman buildings, the type is associated most commonly with two structures uncovered during excavations of the mid-twentieth century by Swedish researchers at the site of Acquarossa, near Viterbo, and by American archaeologists at the site of Poggio Civitate (Murlo), near Siena.Footnote 5 Since their discovery, Acquarossa's Monumental Area F and Poggio Civitate's Archaic period complexFootnote 6 have dominated discussion of the Etruscan palace form. Particularly due to the scale, utilization of permanent building materials and visibility of architectural decoration, these two examples of basically rectilinear structures composed of wings of rooms arranged around a central courtyard are universally considered among the first examples of monumental architecture in central Italy. In addition, both buildings were preceded in the Orientalizing period by smaller individual structures that appear to have been consolidated into the larger Archaic monuments.Footnote 7 While the two buildings are often grouped together, they are in fact dissimilar in many ways: several factors, including size, arrangement and the surrounding environment, clearly distinguish the Acquarossa and Poggio Civitate structures from one another.
The site of Acquarossa is located approximately 6 km north of Viterbo and occupies a hill plateau of nearly 32 ha. Excavations uncovered approximately 75 buildings there that range in date from the mid-eighth through to the end of the sixth centuries bc. The monumental complex, which has been dated to c. 550 bc, is designated Monumental Area F and is located near the northwestern edge of the plateau (Östenberg, Reference Östenberg1975; Strandberg Olofsson, Reference Strandberg Olofsson, Pallottino and Wikander1986; Strandberg Olofsson, Reference Strandberg Olofsson1989) (Fig. 1). There are two main wings of rooms: Building A on the north, approximately 10 m long,Footnote 8 and Building C on the east, approximately 25 m in length, which stand at right angles to one another around a central courtyard. Two other structures have been attributed to the complex: Building B seems to be a northern continuation of Building C, and Building D is attached to the southwest corner of Building C by means of a precinct wall.Footnote 9 With the exception of this precinct wall, which was composed of ashlar blocks, the buildings were constructed of stone foundations, earthen walls and tile roofs. Buildings A and C flank the courtyard in a perfectly perpendicular manner, and the exterior perimeter of each building facing the courtyard is delineated by a row of blocks. Both buildings possessed an exterior portico and were decorated with elaborate architectural terracottas, including frieze plaques and female-head antefixes (Strandberg Olofsson, Reference Strandberg Olofsson1989; Reference Strandberg Olofsson1994). Thus, based on the available archaeological publications, it is possible to reconstruct the monumental complex at Acquarossa as approximately 10 × 25 m, with at least two colonnaded wings around a central courtyard.
Fig. 1. Artist's rendering of the monumental area at Acquarossa. (Drawing by Zev Foreman.)
In comparison, measuring c. 61 × 60 m, the Archaic period building at Poggio Civitate is nearly double the size of the Acquarossa complex (Fig. 2). It is composed of an enclosed courtyard surrounded by four wings of continuous rooms and, unlike the Acquarossa structure, it occupies its position on the Piano del Tesoro alone, with little archaeological evidence of urban development.Footnote 10 The building itself is essentially square, with wings of rooms preserved on the western, southern and northern flanks. Today the foundations of the eastern side of the structure have eroded off the side of Poggio Civitate. At least fifteen rooms surround the massive courtyard. The courtyard itself was ringed on three sides by a colonnade, which supported one of the most well-known Etruscan architectural decoration programmes.Footnote 11 Frieze plaques and an intricate lateral sima with female-head antefixes and feline water-spouts looked out upon the courtyard. The roofs of each individual wing, often reconstructed at different heights, were adorned with a rich menagerie of acroteria, including male and female human figures, sphinxes, and other real and mythical animals. In addition, the complex was fortified by two towers on the northeast and southwest corners, and preserves a number of sling-stones along a guard path on the south. Although the Acquarossa and Poggio Civitate structures do share the period's new building materials — stone foundations, earthen walls and tile roofs — and some similar architectural features (such as the central court), in terms of size, overall plan and adornment, the Archaic period building complex at Poggio Civitate differs significantly from the contemporary structure at Acquarossa.
Fig. 2. Artist's rendering of the Archaic building complex at Poggio Civitate (Murlo). (Reproduced courtesy of Anthony Tuck.)
Much attention has been directed towards determining the function and social implications of this rather short-lived Etruscan architectural type. One reason for such interest is that the precursors to these Etruscan palaces have been linked with the beginnings of Etruscan urbanization, a period in the late eighth and early seventh centuries bc when large urban centres in southern Etruria slowly encroached upon and incorporated smaller settlements in the surrounding countryside.Footnote 12 The first monumental complexes at each of these sites dates to the mid-seventh century bc, and their larger, later incarnations essentially disappeared by the end of the sixth century bc. Corinna Riva suggests that the small centres of Poggio Civitate and Acquarossa managed to survive and prosper in this period in large part because of their economic ingenuity in the production and exploitation of resources and their socio-political assertion of power within the region (Riva, Reference Riva2010: 179–85). While this may indeed be true, the unique structures at these sites have become intertwined in this discussion of state formation in Etruria, inseparable from the accompanying questions concerning centralized authority, cultural influence and élite power. In addition, the wide-ranging debate about the buildings' functions has focused primarily on aspects such as the iconography of the buildings' rich terracotta decorations, artifactual evidence from both sites and the impact of eastern parallels and influence.Footnote 13 Considerations of spatial experience or of how the courtyard can provide or prevent access to the rest of the structure have attracted little attention from students of Etruscan architecture, but seem to be fruitful areas to explore.
There is little doubt that the buildings' origin and function are connected to the establishment of the élite in Etruria in the Orientalizing and Archaic periods. This aspect of their identity, however, has come to overshadow all other aspects of their significance in the scholarly consideration of the structures. In recent years a discomfort has emerged in the scholarly literature with the palatial nomenclature for the Etruscan examples at Poggio Civitate and Acquarossa. It is not uncommon to see these buildings referred to as ‘monumental complexes’ or ‘monumental buildings’.Footnote 14 While such terminology goes a long way toward removing the socio-political connotations associated with a ‘palatial’ strait-jacket, it may in fact be too austere. Certainly an ideological component is implied when we recognize the monumentality of these structures (Meyers, Reference Meyers, Thomas and Meyers2012), but the impact of the palatial nomenclature continues to be felt, even if it is not named explicitly. While several scholars have called for closer attention to architectural design in discussions of Etruscan palaces,Footnote 15 it always has been with the intention of proposing or affirming overall building function. A true separation between ingrained nomenclature and perceived function is only possible when we understand from where the terms developed. Thus a short survey of the origin and usage of the term ‘palace’ or its alternatives is instructive. I begin by re-examining how the term ‘palace’ first came to be applied to the buildings, and then consider other methodological frameworks that have been utilized for other ancient palaces with similar architectural remains.
ORIGIN AND USAGE OF THE TERM ‘PALAZZO’ IN ETRUSCAN ARCHAEOLOGY
The term ‘palace’ seems to derive from the designation of these structures as ‘palazzi’ beginning in the 1970s by Italian scholars in response to the initial presentations of the monumental complexes at Poggio Civitate and Acquarossa by their American and Swedish excavators, respectively.Footnote 16 At both sites the unique character of the buildings within the parameters of known Etruscan building types was noted, and speculative interpretations of their use were advanced. For example, Kyle Phillips regarded the complex at Poggio Civitate as a sanctuary, but due to his perception of architectural similarities to fora (Phillips, Reference Phillips1972: 251), as well as the variety of finds associated with the complex, including materials for craft production and metal working, he emphasized both ritual and other types of communal usage (Phillips, Reference Phillips1974: 145). Carl Östenberg noted the architectural similarities between Acquarossa's Area F and the complex at Poggio Civitate, concluding that at least part of the structure (Building A) was a temple. He, too, recognized the potential for a variety of functions focused on community: ‘è fuori dubbio che il complesso della zona F ha costituito una parte del centro politco, amministrativo e commerciale della citta’ (Östenberg, Reference Östenberg1974: 85). At the eighth Convegno nazionale di studi etruschi e italici in Orvieto in 1972, a number of scholars challenged the views of Phillips and Östenberg that sacred activity was a key component in both structures, and instead favoured a view that the complexes were interpreted better as residences similar to the Roman Regia, which had served as the house and seat of sacral-political power in early Rome.Footnote 17 In the years following this conference, a number of Italian archaeologists further articulated this view, moving the structures' meaning away from sacred space and closer to élite residence (Cristofani, Reference Cristofani1975; Staccioli, Reference Staccioli1976). In general these arguments relied on the lack of specifically votive material from either site, the extensive aristocratic iconographic scheme of both complexes, and close attention to their architectural plan and arrangement. Particular attention was directed towards the similar design features that the complexes at Poggio Civitate and Acquarossa shared with Near Eastern and Cypriot palaces, particularly the colonnaded portico.Footnote 18
By the 1980s the designation of ‘palazzo’ began to take hold (Torelli, Reference Torelli1983; Reference Torelli and Stopponi1985), a suitable designation for an architectural form that corresponded to ‘le crescenti esigenze di fasto, di lusso e di prestigio delle artistocrazie dominanti dell'Etruria e del Lazio’ (Torelli, Reference Torelli and Stopponi1985: 26). The division of these structures from sanctuaries — the architectural category to which they had first belonged — became obvious by 1985, ‘the year of the Etruscans’. At this time exhibitions about Etruscan archaeology were mounted all over Italy, and Poggio Civitate and Acquarossa were part of Case e palazzi d'Etruria rather than Santuari dell'Etruria. Case e palazzi d'Etruria and Torelli's introduction to it serve as the clearest articulation of what essentially has become conventional wisdom with regard to the Etruscan ‘palazzo’ today (Torelli, Reference Torelli and Stopponi1985). First, he clearly identified the principal examples of the building type as the Archaic building at Poggio Civitate and Monumental Area F at Acquarossa.Footnote 19 Secondly, he firmly placed the palazzi within a domestic sphere by discussing them as part of the evolution from hut to house in central Etruria. Thirdly, he defined them architecturally through typological comparisons with palace structures in the Near East: namely, the Persian palatial tradition of rectilinear wings surrounding a central courtyard, colonnaded porticoes similar to the Syrian bit-hilani form from Larissa a Hermos and the prominence of a tripartite component similar to Eastern liwan houses.Footnote 20 Finally, Torelli linked the building type's appearance to the ‘crescenti esigenze idealogiche e socio-economiche di un aristocrazia di superbi principes’, whose wealth and power was a direct result of Orientalizing influence (Torelli, Reference Torelli and Stopponi1985: 26–9). Some have refined this categorization from palazzi to regiae, in order to recognize the ceremonial aspect of parts of the palace.Footnote 21 Today, while a few archaeologists continue to debate the function of these buildings,Footnote 22 the emerging consensus is that, with roots in the Orientalizing period, monumental Archaic Etruscan complexes such as those at Acquarossa and Poggio Civitate served as residential foci of social and ritual power for regional élites.Footnote 23
ALTERNATIVE APPROACHES TO PALACES
Layers of modern cultural bias have perhaps unwittingly had a significant impact on the interpretation of Etruscan palaces.Footnote 24 Among archaeologists and architectural historians of the ancient Mediterranean, palaces have long been associated with the homes of the élite, such as Hellenistic kings or Roman emperors, where the political connection was overt. In more modern terms an Italian palazzo conjures up a specific type of building: one that is large, visible, impressive, generally with a central courtyard and many rooms. In the strictest sense it is a residential structure, but variations on the form are possible, as attested by the terms palazzo pubblico, palazzo comunale, palazzo delle esposizioni, and so on (Corsini, Reference Corsini2004: 9). If no additional function is specified, the residential aspect takes prominence, with a certain amount of social status or administrative power assumed on the part of the resident. It is this type of interpretative layering that other archaeologists and social historians have wrestled with in confronting similarly monumental remains, perhaps none more so than scholars of Minoan Crete.
For classical archaeologists the administrative centres of bronze age Crete are a particularly distinctive and representative group among this class of structures. However, the term ‘palace’, originally assigned in the nineteenth century, is by no means universally accepted or defined by Minoan scholars, some arguing against the use of the term at all.Footnote 25 In fact, the very nature of Minoan rule or ‘kingship’ also bears consideration in such discussions (Betancourt, Reference Betancourt, Driessen, Schoep and Laffineur2002). While it is beyond the scope of this paper to examine fully these complicated debates, the scholarship on Minoan palaces serves as an example where palaces are conceived broadly from two perspectives: that of function and socio-political significance on one hand; and that of architectural form on the other.Footnote 26
Paul Halstead succinctly asserted the multiplicity of functions associated with Minoan palaces when he described them as ‘combining under one roof the equivalent of Buckingham Palace, Whitehall, Westminster Abbey and Wembley Stadium’ (Halstead, Reference Halstead, Sheridan and Bailey1981: 201). Such a multifunctional view is valuable in that it typifies how a monolithic view of function is less than fruitful when approaching structures that can be viewed simultaneously as political, religious, economic and cultural spaces. Related to the question of function is the matter of the development of the palaces. How did particular aspects of function contribute to their emergence? The work of John Cherry in the 1980s was key in connecting the rise of palaces with the rise of the Minoan ‘state’ (Cherry, Reference Cherry, Krzyszkowska and Nixon1983; Reference Cherry, Renfrew and Cherry1986); but as John McEnroe points out in his recent book on Minoan architecture, since Cherry's important initial observations, the view of the relationship between Minoan culture and Minoan palaces has become less ‘revolutionary’ and more nuanced (McEnroe, Reference McEnroe2010: 54–6). Rather, it is accepted now that a host of different cultural factors contributed to the development of palaces on Crete at various points spanning a nearly 150-year period. A connection between the palaces and a single moment of cultural transformation is as elusive as the notion of them serving a single function.
A different approach eschews standard interpretations of Minoan ‘palaces’, and instead defines them in terms of architectural features, design elements and spatial patterning. Such assessments likely go back to James Walter Graham's seminal work Palaces of Crete (Reference Graham1962), which compared various spatial components of the Minoan palaces as a means of better understanding the structure as a whole. Today, a range of architectural studies of Minoan palaces exists, each attempting to define the essence of a Minoan palace through what it is, rather than what it does. Like Graham's, these studies are concerned with the architectural remains, and, at least in principle, are less burdened by cultural assumptions of building usage or quality (Preziosi, Reference Preziosi1983; Palyvou, Reference Palyvou, Hägg and Marinatos1987; Driessen, Reference Driessen1997). For example, Donald Preziosi's ground-breaking study of Minoan palace planning relied on a syntactical approach that considered the layout of the palaces on the basis of a modular grid plan (Preziosi, Reference Preziosi1983). Preziosi's work, which blended semiotics with the foundational work of Graham, is not without drawbacks, most noticeably the limits of relying on two-dimensional evidence, or ‘paper architecture’. McEnroe points out that a full appreciation of Minoan architecture should consider not only the palace plan, but also the three-dimensional aspects of the palace within ancient topography, as well as architectural changes through time (McEnroe, Reference McEnroe2010: 88–9).
Finally, functional approaches to Minoan palaces need not stand opposed to the architectural view. Rather, the relationship between form and function unites in experiential approaches, such as the work of Louise Hitchcock (Reference Hitchcock2000). Her contextual attention to Minoan architecture, which relied on both semiotics and material culture studies, focused on decisions made in each aspect of the design process, and how those decisions produced distinctive spaces, capable of variation according to movement, experience and visual access site to site.Footnote 27 She emphasized the individual components of the palaces and their patterns of connectivity to the whole. This allowed for attention to be paid to particular room types and formal features of palaces, while at the same time emphasizing that experiences in spaces of the palace may change depending on the series of decisions made by the designer, builder or visitor at any given time. This type of approach re-animates the architecture itself and highlights individual variations of ancient usage, rather than proceeding from pre-determined, traditional notions about how spaces functioned.
Thus, even for the most familiar of ancient palaces, the designation ‘palace’ cannot be taken for granted, as evidenced by Minoan scholars who have contemplated such complex architectural structures from many perspectives and utilized a wide range of methodological approaches. As a result they have achieved a broad — even if at times contentious — portrait of the emergence, usage and experience of the palace within Minoan society. In general this type of integrated approach, with emphasis on experiential and spatial interpretation, has not been applied to monumental ‘palace’ structures in Etruria. While all architectural aspects of these Etruscan structures would be fruitful avenues for study in this regard, here I offer the central courtyard as a case-study. This space is the architectural focus of the Etruscan palazzi, connected to nearly all movement that took place within the structures, as well as the most frequently discussed of their palatial characteristics.Footnote 28
MOVEMENT AND THE CENTRAL COURTYARD IN ETRUSCAN PALACES
The courtyard is often described as the hub of a palace structure in terms of activity and access.Footnote 29 As a design feature, the courtyard was present throughout Archaic central Italy, and has played a key role in assessments of Etruscan ‘palaces’. For example, all of the palazzi in the 1985 exhibition catalogue possess courtyard spaces (Stopponi, Reference Stopponi1985).Footnote 30 In addition, the courtyard is often at the centre of the frequent comparisons between Near Eastern and Etruscan palatial architecture. Consider the following remarks of Torelli (Reference Torelli and Stopponi1985: 28) comparing the Archaic building of Poggio Civitate to the fifth-century bc palace at Vouni in Cyprus (Fig. 3) (translated from Italian): ‘the characteristic plan of four corners is known from the East, and the plan of the ‘palace’ (at Poggio Civitate) centred around an open courtyard recalls palatial models, also Eastern, for which the most pertinent comparison, in terms of type and chronology, is the Cypriot palace at Vouni'. Or Nielsen (Reference Nielsen1994: 61), making the same comparison and also speaking of Poggio Civitate, ‘Whatever its function, there is certainly a palatial feeling about the large square building measuring 62 X 62 meters … it is centered around a large peristyle courtyard with columns on three sides and rooms on all sides’. She went on to conclude that because ‘the two earliest examples of peristyles in internal courtyards in historical times in the Mediterranean are found in palatial buildings’ (Vouni and Poggio Civitate), ‘this monumentalizing element was developed in connection with palace architecture’. The perceived relationship between the palace at Vouni and the Etruscan palaces clearly owes much to the form of the central courtyard.
Fig. 3. Plan of the palace at Vouni (Cyprus). ©Medelhavsmuseet, Stockholm. (Reproduced courtesy of the Swedish Cypriot Expedition.)
It is thus apparent that any assessment of the spatial mechanics and architectural experience of this important Etruscan architectural form must begin with the courtyard and its role within each building's patterns of approach and access. A useful method for discussing these issues of access and movement is access analysis. Developed by architects Bill Hillier and Julienne Hanson as a means of mediating between the material realm of physical space and the abstract realm of social relations, access analysis provides a language to describe patterns of social interaction created by the layout and arrangement of individual spaces within a larger architectural entity (Hillier and Hanson, Reference Hillier and Hanson1984: 2).Footnote 31 The most important factor in creating these patterns is the permeability of the structure — that is, how entrances and physical layout actually control and mediate movement throughout the structure. Analysis of the building plan in this way determines each room's potential for social interaction, both on a public level between the structure's inhabitants and guests, and on a more restricted private level between the inhabitants alone. The public nature of a building is measured in terms of its global relations, or how accessible the space is from any other space within the structure or from its exterior, while the more private nature of a building is measured in terms of local relations, or how much control a particular space exerts on movement to and from its neighbouring spaces. An examination of the global and local relations of courtyards in the two primary examples from Poggio Civitate (Murlo) and Acquarossa demonstrates that, while the presence of a courtyard itself does not distinguish these structures from other Mediterranean ‘palaces’, its position within the buildings does.Footnote 32
POGGIO CIVITATE (MURLO) AND ACQUAROSSA
The monumental Archaic palazzo at Poggio Civitate (Murlo) is one of the best-known and earliest courtyard structures in central Italy (Fig. 4). The courtyard dominates the structure: it is not quite square, measuring 43.2 m on the north and south and 40.35 m and 40.5 m on the west and east respectively, thus occupying nearly two-thirds of the total area of the building. In terms of size, few parallels exist for the building, or for its central open-air space, which was surely the largest fully enclosed courtyard that any contemporary viewer in ancient Italy had ever seen (Turfa and Steinmayer, Reference Turfa and Steinmayer2002: 6).Footnote 33
Fig. 4. Plan of the Archaic building complex at Poggio Civitate (Murlo) illustrating the relationship of the courtyard (space 1) to other parts of the structure. (After Phillips, Reference Phillips1993; drawing by Morgan Burgess.) Lightly shaded spaces indicate covered porticoes directly accessible from the courtyard; dark shaded spaces indicate rooms in direct communication with the courtyard.
It is not clear exactly how one approached this massive structure in antiquity, although its position on the Poggio Civitate hill assures us that it was visible to several inhabited sites in the vicinity. I have suggested elsewhere that the most likely means of approach was from the southeast, and recent excavations have revealed an ancient road of unknown date in this direction (Meyers, Reference Meyers2003).Footnote 34 The remains of the foundation walls indicate that there were at least two entry-points communicating between the building's interior and exterior, one on the east, and a second on the western flank of the structure. For the purposes of this discussion, it is not important to distinguish between the eastern or western entry-points, as both provided the same degree of immediate access to the courtyard space, after a visitor passed through a narrow entry passage.Footnote 35
Clearly, the architects of this building wasted little time in directing the visitor from the building's exterior to the courtyard. At most a narrow corridor was the only separation between exterior and interior. Entry to the courtyard was thus immediate and dramatic. Once in the courtyard, the visitor was surrounded on all sides by wings of rooms. On the north, west and south a peristyle precedes the adjoining rooms (Fig. 4). Some have compared this three-sided peristyle at Murlo to a similar three-sided peristyle in the palace at Vouni (Fig. 3), but an important distinction is worth noting.Footnote 36 In the early palace at Vouni, when a visitor entered the courtyard after descending the staircase, he faced a U-shaped peristyle. A tripartite wing of rooms immediately opposite the entrance of the courtyard was visible through a line of widely-spaced columns. At Poggio Civitate, this experience was possible only if the visitor entered the courtyard from the western entrance. Visitors entering from the east — probably the main entrance — faced a tripartite arrangement of rooms with no columns before them. At Vouni the peristyle enclosed the visitor, welcoming him upon reaching the destination. In contrast, at Poggio Civitate — at least from the eastern side — the peristyle framed the tripartite rooms on the western side of the building, either beckoning the visitor forward, or perhaps encouraging him to observe the rooms from the outside only and not enter at all.Footnote 37 This effect, which was certainly intentional based on the wider spacing of column pads on the eastern side at the entry-point, emphasizes the courtyard's primary role as an initial gateway for further movement, rather than a destination to be sought after entry.
The rich decorative effects of the courtyard also played a role in the experience of the building. The terracotta adornment of the roofs around the courtyard — composed of an elaborate series of frieze plaques, antefixes, water-spouts and acroterial sculpture — is well-documented and was surely overwhelming to the visitor.Footnote 38 Just as the size of the courtyard was unparalleled, so too was the quantity and significance of architectural decoration on the interior of a building. Although some of Poggio Civitate's terracotta decorative elements faced the exterior of the building (such as the gorgon antefixes) (Neils, Reference Neils1976), the vast majority of them faced the interior courtyard. For other Etruscan building types such architectural decoration was a crucial part of the experience of the façade, as, for example, documented by Izzet in southern Etruscan sanctuaries of the late sixth century bc (Izzet, Reference Izzet2001; Reference Izzet2008: 132–5). Although we tend to conceive of a palace courtyard as an interior space, in this case it may very well have seemed a continuation of the exterior approach, given its size and lack of roofing. Certainly the contrast between the extensive roof embellishment and the background of open sky would have made this obvious.
There is little doubt that the courtyard at Poggio Civitate was intended to be the most visually and architecturally significant space in the complex. Unlike the other Mediterranean palaces or the familiar Minoan palaces, where there are separate wings for storage, the Etruscan courtyard communicates easily with nearly all of the spaces of the rest of the complex. Based on close observance of the archaeological remains, I judge the total potentially accessible areas from the courtyard to be fourteen — five on the south, four on the west (including space 17, which does not appear to have been partitioned from the courtyard), one on the north, at least three on the east (if at least one accessible space is assumed in the section of this wing that is no longer preserved) and the small area designated 19 (Fig. 4).Footnote 39 In addition, all remaining rooms are accessible by crossing only one additional threshold (that is, rooms 16 and 18 from 17, room 14 from 15, and rooms 11 and 13 from 12). In terms of access analysis, it can be said that the courtyard possesses high global relations, or substantial interaction potential between the interior and exterior, as well as the individual spaces of the complex. With fourteen immediate neighbours and a maximum of two boundaries to cross to reach the courtyard from the exterior or any space within the building, it is possible to assume that it was the most visited space in the complex. Its easy accessibility makes it ideal for gatherings of many strangers, while its control over nearly all other spaces in the structure gives it a primary role in channelling the movement of every visitor. Every visitor interacts with the courtyard immediately upon entry and again upon exit. In this way, it is as significantly related to interior-exterior boundaries as it is to individual interior boundaries. Access to the courtyard at Poggio Civitate is not very restrictive or anticipatory, yet its role in mediating access to nearly all other spaces in the palace is great. The courtyard is thus a starting-point of the mechanics of movement throughout the structure, rather than an end-point.
Similar patterns can be seen in the Archaic monumental complex at Acquarossa (Fig. 5). This structure, often included alongside the Archaic building at Poggio Civitate as a palazzo, is noticeably different in some of its architectural features. As already mentioned, it is a great deal smaller (c. 12 × 25 m), and it is located within a larger settlement. In addition, while the excavators discussed the area as a single entity, its two main components have always been designated as separate buildings, A (spaces 2–4) and C (spaces 5, 8–11).Footnote 40 Most importantly for this discussion, the central courtyard that is so crucial in the designation of this structure as a palace is not fully enclosed. The western flank of the trapezoidal courtyard space remained open to the visitor approaching from that direction, creating a quasi U-shaped enclosure similar to the peristyles in previous examples.
Fig. 5. Plan of the monumental area at Acquarossa illustrating the relationship of the courtyard (space 1) to other parts of the structure. (After Strandberg Olofsson, Reference Strandberg Olofsson1989; drawing by Morgan Burgess.) Lightly shaded spaces indicate the covered porticoes directly accessible from courtyard (space 1); dark shaded spaces indicate rooms in direct communication with the courtyard.
From the very first moments that a visitor came upon the complex, the entrance-like aspects of the courtyard were apparent. The individual structural components were certainly visible on approach from west to east, and the actual entrance into the courtyard was distinguished only by a lower level of bedrock necessitating a step down. This elevation change is the only suggestion that the courtyard was intended to be a distinct space from the exterior surroundings. Approach from the southeast was also possible, given that most areas of the larger settlement of Acquarossa are in that direction, connected to the Monumental Area by a road. In this case, a blind wall shields the view of the area, creating some measure of anticipation until the courtyard is reached. Such a distinction in movement toward the courtyard has not been seen thus far. In one case, the courtyard and its attendant buildings represent a persistent visual goal; in the other, the courtyard remains out of view until the moment of entry.Footnote 41
There are porticoes on two sides of the courtyard, through which the visitor had access to the rooms of the flanking buildings. As at Poggio Civitate, a rich decorative programme of architectural terracottas greeted the visitor.Footnote 42 In her reconstruction of the Monumental Area, Strandberg Olofsson emphasized that only the sides of Buildings A and C that faced the courtyard were decorated; no other associated terracottas were found along other sides of the buildings (Strandberg Olofsson, Reference Strandberg Olofsson1989: 177). This suggests that the experiential effect of the courtyard highlighted the façades of the adjoining wings, thereby accentuating the exterior nature of the space vis-à-vis the interior rooms beyond.
Fewer rooms overall comprise the Acquarossa palazzo complex, but movement patterns are less direct than at Poggio Civitate.Footnote 43 Not all rooms communicate directly with the courtyard, and many necessitate passage through at least one other threshold. For example, from the courtyard a visitor had the option of entering only three spaces: the portico in front of Building A (space 2), an additional room in the corner between A and C (space 6)Footnote 44 or the portico of Building C (space 5). While only these three spaces can be accessed from the courtyard, they are the only way to gain any further access to the interior of the buildings and so serve as critical entrances. Thus, despite the restriction of options from the courtyard, no rooms can be reached without navigating through the courtyard first. While access to the courtyard at Acquarossa may in fact be less restrictive, it maintains control over further movement, albeit in a somewhat restrained fashion. It serves as an excellent example of how, despite an apparent similarity in the role of the courtyard between Acquarossa and Poggio Civitate, the actual experience of movement can be quite different.
In both of these examples the courtyard is the primary portal of access and the mediator of further penetration into all other spaces of the complex. They both serve as an obvious extension of the exterior space, the enclosed interior courtyard at Poggio Civitate through the visual impact of the three-sided peristyle and the architectural decoration, and the courtyard at Acquarossa through its openness. In the terminology of access analysis, we can say that both courtyards have high local relations in that they each maintain a significant amount of control over access to all other spaces within the structure. And while both have high global relations with respect to the exterior, several of the interior spaces at Acquarossa require several more steps to reach than the majority of spaces at Poggio Civitate. At the same time, the Etruscan courtyard's role as a gateway space, characterized by less restrictive or anticipatory access and directing movement into the interior depths of the complex, is greatly expanded to encompass the entirety of the structure. The distinctive nature of movement in Etruscan palaces can be appreciated further when contrasted with alternative palatial models, specifically the Cypriot palace at Vouni, with which Etruscan palaces are often compared.
VOUNI (CYPRUS)
Because of its location in Cyprus, the Vouni palace affords an interesting comparative case-study for the Etruscan palaces, particularly due to the island's role in communicating between the East and ancient Italy.Footnote 45 The palace, located together with a sanctuary on an acropolis near the ancient town of Soli in the western part of the north coast of Cyprus, most likely belonged to a prince or governor (Nielsen, Reference Nielsen1994: 51–4). Excavated by Einar Gjerstad under the aegis of the Swedish Cyprus Expedition between 1928 and 1930, the palace has two main architectural phases: the first dating to c. 500–450/440 bc, and a second in the later half of the fifth century, when its plan was altered drastically (Fig. 3; the early palace is indicated by dark lines). Gjerstad believed that this change in plan was the result of Greek influence in Cyprus, while others have maintained that elements of the first and second phases of the palace plan derive from Near Eastern royal residences (Gjerstad, Reference Gjerstad1933; Reference Gjerstad1937).Footnote 46 These questions about the relationship between architectural form and socio-political influence have generated much debate, but no one has questioned the palatial monumentality at Vouni in either phase.
The first palace, constructed at the beginning of the fifth century bc, is the more relevant chronologically by way of comparison to Poggio Civitate and Acquarossa.Footnote 47 Gjerstad proposed that the main block of the palace consisted of a four-sided courtyard, which was entered after passing through a vestibule on the southwest and descending a monumental staircase of seven steps (Gjerstad, Reference Gjerstad1937: 205–12). In his work on Cypriot architecture, George Wright suggested that this arrangement, namely a three-winged complex arranged around an open court, with the fourth wing serving as an elaborate entry suite, is actually a monumentalization of a long-standing Cypriot architectural form associated with public architecture (Wright, Reference Wright1992: 524). Both Gjerstad's and Wright's assessments of the Vouni palace plan drew attention to the architectural impact of the entry complex as an intermediary zone between the exterior of the structure and the courtyard, rather than a wing equivalent in function to the others around the courtyard.Footnote 48 In addition to this core complex of rooms, the first palace possessed a number of rooms to the southwest, largely unconnected to the main axis of the ‘public’ space of the palace, considered to be service areas.Footnote 49
In the early phase, the Vouni courtyard was removed from the exterior by a vestibule and accompanying rooms that are nearly equal in size to the space of the courtyard itself.Footnote 50 Thus, from the entry-point at least three spaces and a descending staircase had to be passed through before a visitor reached the courtyard. The openness of the vestibule and the demarcation of the centre of the staircase with a single column would have made this a visually accessible process, but the separation between the space of the courtyard and the space of the vestibule was accentuated through the elevation change (Gjerstad, Reference Gjerstad1937: 205–6). The separation is articulated through both the act of passage and the act of descent. Once in the courtyard, a total of nine rooms in three wings was accessible to the visitor. There is no evidence that the individual rooms communicated with each other, leaving the courtyard the sole means of access to the spaces. Clearly the courtyard's role as a mediator of admission to the interior spaces of the palace was an important feature in the architectural planning of the structure. However, as was the case in the Etruscan examples, this role is neither apparent nor fulfilled immediately upon entrance to the palace. A visitor was obliged to continue through other interior spaces, including seven stairs, before reaching the courtyard. A visitor also had additional choices from the entry vestibule. The availability of additional access spaces to the southwest (through Room 50) or the southeast (through Room 55) allowed for the possibility of avoiding the courtyard altogether. The axiality of the entry, with the visual goal of the monumental staircase, would have exerted some control over the visitor's decisions, but admission to the courtyard was not necessary or universal.
According to access analysis one could say that the first phase courtyard of the Vouni palace had a moderate degree of global relations within the complex. This indicates that to reach the courtyard space from the exterior or another space in the complex, several levels of additional interior space must be navigated. Thus, the courtyard exerted limited control over social gathering and movement in the structure. This is further emphasized by the fact that the palace possessed an entire wing of rooms to the southwest removed from the courtyard — a component of a palatial complex usually designated for storage that would be separate from the social traffic of the building.
In both architectural phases at Vouni the courtyard was conceived as an interior space to be achieved after entry into the structure. In other words, while the courtyard may have facilitated further access within the structure, initial access to it from the exterior was also controlled. Although changes made to the courtyard near the middle of the fifth century may seem to have allowed more direct access to the courtyard, in fact it remained relatively low as a facilitator of global relations in the building. In this phase, once the courtyard was reached, the number of possible thresholds to cross for further movement was slightly larger than in the first phase; however, with additional entry-points and a large number of rooms not directly connected at all to the courtyard, there was a wider variation for alternative interior routes. In addition, visual access to the second phase courtyard was even more restrictive at the moment of entry than it was in the first phase. A visitor had to make two turns and ascend two staircases before reaching the courtyard. Entry to the courtyard no longer relied on axiality, but on a lack of other options. Thus, even with more direct access from the exterior to the courtyard in this phase, the courtyard remained visually remote and its global relations were low — a striking divergence from the patterns seen in the Etruscan palaces discussed above.
While the courtyard was the primary destination in both iterations of the Vouni palace, its position within the overall structure suggests a need to exert control over visitors in a vastly different manner than the structures from Archaic Etruria. Access to it was somewhat restrictive, neither obvious from the exterior nor immediately upon entry, and although it was connected to other sections of the palace, alternative paths to and from the courtyard were circuitous and indirect. This spatial patterning may be compared to palaces on Minoan Crete, where studies have shown that courtyards performed a vital role of centralization and focalization for interior movement within the complicated overall plan of the palace, but were not immediate facilitators of interior access.Footnote 51 This should not be taken to indicate that Minoan palaces were precursors to the Vouni palace; rather that in both societies similar effects may have been intended by this arrangement of space: namely restrictive access, an anticipated approach — at Vouni marked by turns and elevation changes — that ultimately achieved an open, centralized space, and the availability of a wide array of options for deeper interior penetration once the open courtyard was reached. It is not my intention here to question whether this type of movement is more ‘palatial’ than the different movement patterns demonstrated in the Etruscan examples above, but to point out that when we make assumptions based simply on ‘palatial’ features, we may do so at the expense of understanding the intended architectural experience.
CONCLUSIONS: (RE)VISITING ETRUSCAN PALACES
The mechanics of movement in Etruscan palaces are distinctive. Visitors did not progress toward a single interior space through a circuitous route, as in the eastern examples we have seen. There was no particular direction inherent in the initial arrival point, but rather a large selection of spaces that were separated from the courtyard by one or two thresholds. It has been noted that a centralized courtyard is a primary (even required) feature of a palace, and in many ancient palaces the courtyard could be reached only by crossing a number of thresholds. This is decidedly not the case at Poggio Civitate or Acquarossa. While certain features, such as the size and decoration, distinguish the Etruscan complexes from one another, the function of the courtyard as the initial and primary gateway for all movement within the structure unites them. This ‘gateway’ feature serves as a key Etruscan variation from the palace at Vouni and other Mediterranean palaces. At Vouni, for example, the central courtyard is somewhat removed from the entrance and is far more integrated into the interior dynamics of the structure. Here, restrictive and anticipatory access to the courtyard is of greater importance than its ability to communicate with every room in the structure. Such a priority is reversed in the Etruscan examples, where the courtyard becomes almost an extension of the exterior approach, and thus the beginning of interior navigation patterns.
I judge the experience of the central court in the Etruscan examples to be similar to that of an exterior communal gathering space, such as a forum or modern-day piazza. This communality need not be separate from the other functions of a palace, however, as two comparisons demonstrate. Fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Aztec tecpans, palaces with administrative functions, were characterized by large courtyards that opened up onto the community plaza, essentially creating a shared civic-ceremonial space that also served as the gateway between the communal and the palatial (Evans, Reference Evans, Evans and Pillsbury2004: 14–16). Similarly, during the Italian Renaissance, when elevation became a key factor in palatial experience, a lower central courtyard provided access to the main staircase leading to the piano nobile, where the more complicated mechanics of interior movement took place (Waddy, Reference Waddy1990: 3–13). In both of these examples the courtyard's use as a preliminary gathering space is the primary characteristic of palace architecture.
Although we have seen that the architectural implications of the term ‘palace’ can be a valuable tool for interpretation, we must be careful to consider it within an explicitly Etruscan context. We have no idea how Etruscans referred to these structures; thus whether we refer to them as ‘palaces’, ‘monumental buildings’ or ‘courtyard complexes’, it is actually the unique spatial experience that distinguishes them both architecturally and functionally. Etruscan architects made many innovative refinements to the principles of mechanics and movement as expressions of power. Specifically by utilizing the courtyard as an entranceway rather than a destination, Etruscan palaces seem to have been more concerned with granting access than restricting it, as was the case for many palaces in other ancient cultures. Instead, Etruscan courtyards can be seen as framed spaces where patrons could control the visual and spatial experience of visitors. The impact of such an experience was made even more dramatic through the inclusion of architectural decoration, such as acroterial figures that loomed above the visitors in the courtyard. In Etruscan palaces articulation of power and control was centred first and foremost in the courtyard, rather than through controlled access to it.Footnote 52 Although little is known about the types of activities that may have taken place in Etruscan courtyards, the spatial and experiential dynamics are well-suited to large gatherings and performance of ceremony as expressions of power.Footnote 53
The study of palace architecture is wide-ranging in its chronological and geographical span and in the application of methodological approaches. The above discussion has demonstrated the value of reassessing familiar evidence with alternative material and methods. Although great variety exists in the design of palaces, they are defined generally by mechanics that promote successive movement toward a destination of power or performance. In many cases, as in ancient palaces from bronze age Greece, that process can be drawn out and labyrinthine, forcing the visitor to meander through corridors and past thresholds before finally reaching a destination. In other instances, the process is more straightforward, as in Roman Baroque palaces, where visitors cross a successive line of spaces on the piano nobile in a prince's apartment for receiving visitors. A different type of interplay of interior mechanics and power — one that focuses on the courtyard as a gathering space and gateway — typifies Etruscan palatial experience, and at the same time distinguishes the singularity of Etruscan architecture within its cultural context. We may never be able to define Etruscan ‘palaces’ in a way that fits within our conventional architectural terminology, but we must remember to keep the experience of the ancient Etruscan visitor in front of our own.
