Bridge of the Untiring Sea: The Corinthian Isthmus from Prehistory to Late Antiquity 0876615485, 9780876615485

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bridge of the untiring sea The Corinthian Isthmus from Prehistory to Late Antiquity

E D I T E D BY E L I Z A B ET H R . G E B H A R D A N D T I M OT H Y E . G R EG O RY

48

B rid ge o f th e Unt iring Se a

he sp er ia Supplements The Hesperia Supplement series (ISSN 1064-1173) presents book-length studies in the fields of Greek archaeology, art, language, and history. Founded in 1937, the series was originally designed to accommodate extended essays too long for inclusion in the journal Hesperia. Since that date the Supplements have established a strong identity of their own, featuring single-author monographs, excavation reports, and edited collections on topics of interest to researchers in classics, archaeology, art history, and Hellenic studies. Hesperia Supplements are electronically archived in JSTOR (www.jstor.org), where all but the most recent titles may be found. For order information and a complete list of titles, see the ASCSA website (www.ascsa.edu.gr).

Hesperia Supplement 48

Bridge of the Untiring Sea The Corinthian Isthmus from Prehistory to Late Antiquity

edi t ed b y e liz abe th r . g ebh ard an d ti mothy e . g r eg ory

The American School of Classical Studies at Athens 2015

Copyright © 2015 The American School of Classical Studies at Athens, Princeton, New Jersey All rights reserved.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Bridge of the untiring sea: the Corinthian Isthmus from prehistory to late antiquity / edited by Elizabeth R. Gebhard and Timothy E. Gregory. p. cm. — (Hesperia supplement ; 48) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-87661-548-5 (alk. paper) 1. Corinth (Greece)—Antiquities. 2. Isthmia (Greece)—Antiquities. 3. Corinth, Isthmus of, Region (Greece)—Antiquities. 4. Excavations (Archaeology)— Greece—Corinth, Isthmus of, Region. 5. Social archaeology—Greece—Corinth, Isthmus of, Region. I. Gebhard, Elizabeth R. II. Gregory, Timothy E. DF261.C65B75 2014 938΄.7—dc23 2014012295

For Oscar Broneer Paul Clement DM

Con ten ts

List of Illustrations List of Tables General Plans

int r od uc t i on by Elizabeth R. Gebhard and Τimothy E. Gregory

ix xv xvii 1

Chapter 1 an ear ly Myc enaean habi tat i on S i te at Ky ras Vry si by Eleni Balomenou and Vasili Tassinos

13

Chapter 2 the S e t tl emen t at Kal ami an o s: Br on z e a g e Sm al l Wor l ds an d th e Sar on i c C oast of th e South easter n C or i n th i a by Thomas F. Tartaron

25

Chapter 3 the ar c h ai c temp l e of Po sei d on : P r obl ems of de si gn an d i nv en t i on by Frederick P. Hemans

39

Chapter 4 the dome st i c ar c h i tec t u r e of th e r ac h i Se t tl emen t at i sth mi a by Virginia R. Anderson-Stojanović

65

Chapter 5 Cit y, San c t uary, an d feast: di n i n g Ve ssel s fr om th e ar c h ai c r e servo i r i n th e San c t uary of Po sei d on by Martha K. Risser

83

Chapter 6 the temple dep osit at isthmia and the dating of archaic and ear ly Cl assic al greek Coins by Liane Houghtalin

97

viii

contents

Chapter 7 r i di ng f or Pos eid on: ter rac ot ta fi gu r i n e s f r om t he Sanc t ua ry of Pos eid on by Arne Thomsen

109

Chapter 8 the Chi g i Pa inter at i sthmia? by K. W. Arafat

119

Chapter 9 a r ms f r om the a ge of P hilip an d a l e xan der at Br one er’s We st foundat ion n ear i sth mi a by Alastar H. Jackson

133

Chapter 10 new Sculptures from the isthmian Palaimonion by Mary C. Sturgeon 159 Chapter 11 a g oni st i c fe st iva ls, Vic tors, a n d of f i c i al s i n t he ti me of n er o: an ins c r ibed h er m f r om t he gy mnas ium area of Cor inth by James Wiseman

193

Chapter 12 r oman Baths at i sthm ia a nd San c t uary Bath s i n g re e ce by Fikret K.Yegül

247

Chapter 13 the r oman B uildings e ast of t h e temp l e of Po se i d on on the i sthmus by Steven J. R. Ellis and Eric E. Poehler

271

Chapter 14 Cor i nt hian Sub ur b ia: Pat ter ns of r oman Se t t le ment on the i sthmus by David K. Pettegrew

289

Chapter 15 Work te am s on the i sthmian fort r e ss an d th e d e v e l opm ent of a Later r oma n ar c h i tec t u ral a e st he t i c by Jon M. Frey 311 Chapter 16 ep i g rap hy, Lit ur g y, a nd i m p er i al Pol i c y on t he J u st i n ia nic isthmus by William R. Caraher

327

Chapter 17 Circular Lamps in the Late antique Peloponnese by Birgitta Lindros Wohl 341 References Index

353 381

iLLus trat i on s

Plan A. Map of the eastern Corinthia

xviii

Plan B. Isthmian sanctuary, Hexamilion fortress, and Rachi settlement within the modern village of Kyras Vrysi

xix

Plan C. Restored plan of the major monuments of the Isthmian sanctuary

xx

Plan D. Period plan of the temenos of Poseidon and the Palaimonion

xxi

1.1. Test trenches on the Balaphas property

14

1.2. Plan of the rescue excavations on the Balaphas property

15

1.3. Excavation trenches with walls

16

1.4. Vessels found in situ in trench D2

17

1.5. The excavated area after the end of the excavation

17

1.6. Pottery from the rescue excavations

21

1.7. Late Bronze Age activity in the Corinthia

23

2.1. Map of the eastern Corinthia, with locations of prominent sites indicated

26

2.2. GIS-generated probability model for prehistoric harbors on the Corinthia’s Saronic coast

26

2.3. Digital terrain model of the Korphos region

27

2.4. Example of cyclopean masonry technique in the wall of a monumental Mycenaean building at Kalamianos

28

2.5. Composite plan of architecture at Kalamianos as of 2009

29

2.6. View of road-cut section of Building 13-II at Stiri, showing construction sequence and collapse deposit

30

2.7. Locations of Mycenaean architectural complexes discovered during survey beyond the Kalamianos site

31

x

i l l u s t r at i o n s

2.8. A solution-enlarged joint (“fissure”) giving access to fresh groundwater at Kalamianos

34

2.9. Map of the Saronic Gulf and surrounding regions, with significant Bronze Age sites identified

35

2.10. View of the Saronic Gulf from above the site at Kalamianos

36

3.1. Restored view of the Archaic Temple of Poseidon, ca. 500 b.c.

40

3.2. Actual-state plan of the Archaic Temple, 1989

41

3.3. A segment of the cella wall reconstructed by Broneer

43

3.4. Detail view of the wall surface showing the condition of the blocks behind the pilasters and preserved plaster over the roughened wall surface

43

3.5. A group of construction chips from posthole N6

44

3.6. Bottom of a typical wall block, IA 3202

45

3.7. A construction chip showing the condition of the edge prior to finishing for installation

45

3.8. Reconstructed view of a block being lifted into position with its fit being adjusted while suspended from a hoist

46

3.9. Block IA 1552 with a pair of U-shaped channels at one end of the block

48

3.10. Restored view of a corner of the roof

50

3.11. Section drawings of two pan/cover tiles; reconstructed drawing showing the fit of the tiles to log rafters

51

3.12. Restored view of workmen installing the tiles on the roof

51

3.13. Eaves tile IT 90 with mud packing under the cover that preserves the impression of a log

52

3.14. Block IA 1553 from the top of the cella wall

55

3.15. Restored section of the temple showing the position of “geison” blocks to support the rafters and transversecutting blocks for the ceiling

55

3.16. Restored view of the facade of the Archaic Temple superimposed on that of the Classical Temple

57

3.17. Comparison of the bottoms of an ancient tile and an experimental tile

60

3.18. Sequence of experimental tile making

61

3.19. Partial full-scale model of a corner of the roof made with round rafters

62

4.1. Central part of Rachi settlement

67

4.2. Partially restored plan of Rachi settlement

68

i l l u s t r at i o n s

xi

4.3. State plan of Rachi settlement, central part

70

4.4. State plan of Rachi settlement, House II and its surroundings

71

4.5. Reconstruction of House II

71

4.6. State plan of Rachi settlement, Houses X–XIII

72

4.7. Reconstruction of Houses X and XI

72

4.8. House XVIII, basement

74

5.1. Reconstruction of the sanctuary, ca. 500 b.c.

84

5.2. Deposition in the Archaic Reservoir

85

5.3. Inventoried pottery from the Archaic Reservoir

87

5.4. Uninventoried pottery from the Archaic Reservoir, levels VI and VII

87

5.5. Uninventoried fine ware from the Archaic Reservoir, levels VI and VII

87

5.6. Mortarium IP 1548 from level I of the Archaic Reservoir

89

5.7. Mortarium IP 1453 from level II of the Archaic Reservoir

89

5.8. Lekane IP 1762 from levels IV and V of the Archaic Reservoir

89

5.9. Stewpot IP 9734 from level VII of the Archaic Reservoir

89

5.10. Stepped lid IP 2359 and lekanis IP 9740 from level VII of the Archaic Reservoir

90

5.11. A selection of vessels that are representative of sets in the feasting assemblage

91

5.12. Oinochoe IP 2390 from level VII of the Archaic Reservoir

92

6.1. Plan of the pronaos of the Archaic Temple of Poseidon, showing the position of deposits A–C

99

6.2. Corinthian diobol IC 131

102

6.3. Aiginetan stater IC 58

105

6.4. Corinthian stater IC 103

106

6.5. Argive obol IC 134

107

7.1. Horses and riders

110

7.2. Animal figurines

111

7.3. Boats

112

7.4. Human figures

113

7.5. Nude obese seated woman from the Sacred Glen, IM 2869

115

7.6. The development of horse figurines

117

7.7. Typical Late Group horse fragment, IM 5620

118

xii

i l l u s t r at i o n s

8.1. Late Protocorinthian alabastron from Isthmia

121

8.2. Protocorinthian alabastron, London BM 1860,0201.30

122

8.3. Transitional alabastron, Isthmia IP 1803a–c + IP 2428

122

8.4. Detail of the Chigi vase, Villa Giulia 22679

123

8.5. Macmillan aryballos, London BM 1889,0418.1

124

8.6. Detail of the Chigi vase, Villa Giulia 22679

125

8.7. Aryballos attributed to the Evelyn Painter, London BM 1969,1215.1

126

8.8. Detail of the Chigi vase, Villa Giulia 22679

127

8.9. Aryballos attributed to the Chigi Group, Berlin F 336

128

8.10. Fragments of wall painting from Isthmia

129

8.11. Kotyle attributed to the Aigina Bellerophon Painter, Aigina K 253 (1376)

129

9.1. West Foundation, actual-state plan

135

9.2. West Foundation from south

135

9.3. West Foundation from west

136

9.4. West Foundation, interior from northeast

137

9.5. Spear heads 1, 2 from base of central pit

141

9.6. Spear heads 3, 4 from base of oblong tumulus

143

9.7. Spear head 5 and javelin head 6 from base of oblong tumulus

145

9.8. Spear butts 7, 8 from base of oblong tumulus; sword 9 from base of central pit

147

9.9. Sword 10 as found inside stone circle

148

10.1. Palaimonion at Isthmia: restored plan, later Antonine period, phase V; actual-state plan

160

10.2. Reconstruction of statue 1

163

10.3. Reconstruction of statue 2

163

10.4. Base for statue of Iouventianos, priest, Corinth I-1626

168

10.5. Base for statue of Blastos, prophet, Isthmia IΣ 293

169

10.6. 1a, right side of upper torso

184

10.7. 1B, right forearm with open hand

185

10.8. 1C, draped left leg and knee

185

10.9. 2a, right arm

187

10.10. Torch fragments 2D and 2e

187

10.11. 2F, right lower leg

187

i l l u s t r at i o n s

xiii

10.12. 2H, drapery fragment, edge of cloak

187

10.13. 4B, booted lower leg

189

10.14. 4C, booted left(?) foot

189

10.15. 10, fragmentary serpent scales

192

11.1. Gymnasium area of Corinth, north of the Theater, with the bath and fountain complex to the west

195

11.2. Swimming pool of the bath and fountain complex, and view north from the cliff edge at the west end of the Gymnasium 197 11.3. State plan of the bath and fountain complex, showing findspot of inscribed herm

198

11.4. Inscribed herm and marble bench support

199

11.5. Herm I-1970-39: Face A

201

11.6. Herm I-1970-39: Face B, Face C, back, top

202

11.7. Details of inscription on Face A

203

12.1. Roman Baths, Isthmia: actual-state plan

248

12.2. Roman Baths, Isthmia: partially restored plan

249

12.3. Roman Baths, Isthmia: overall view

250

12.4. Roman Baths, Isthmia: Main Hall (VI)

251

12.5. Kladeos Baths, Sanctuary of Zeus, Olympia

253

12.6. South Baths, Sanctuary of Zeus, Olympia

253

12.7. East (“Octagon”) Baths, Sanctuary of Zeus, Olympia

254

12.8. Small Southwest Baths, Sanctuary of Zeus, Olympia

255

12.9. Large Southwest Baths, Sanctuary of Zeus, Olympia

255

12.10. East Baths, Sanctuary of Apollo, Delphi

257

12.11. Northeast Baths, Sanctuary of Asklepios, Epidauros

257

12.12. Propylaea Baths, Sanctuary of Demeter, Eleusis

258

12.13. City Baths, Dion: restored perspective

259

12.14. Proaskeion Baths, Nikopolis

265

12.15. Proaskeion Baths, Nikopolis

266

13.1. Isthmia: aerial view of the East Field, the Theater, and the eastern portion of the temenos of Poseidon

272

13.2. The labyrinthine walls of the East Field

273

13.3. Overview of the East Field showing the trenches excavated by Clement

273

13.4. Stratigraphic and typological information gathered from a wall in the East Field 276

xiv

i l l u s t r at i o n s

13.5. Subphase 1: plan and Harris matrix

278

13.6. Subphases 2–4, 7: plan and Harris matrix

279

13.7. Central space of the “blue building”

279

13.8. Subphases 5, 6, 8, 9: plan and Harris matrix

280

13.9. Subphases 10, 11: plan and Harris matrix

281

13.10. Subphases 12–14: plan and Harris matrix

283

13.11. East Field at Isthmia, entrance to the later tunnel

283

13.12. Subphases 15, 16: plan and Harris matrix

285

13.13. Subphase 17: plan and Harris matrix

286

13.14. Poorly preserved remains of a wall from the final surviving phase of the East Field 286 14.1. Map of sites with locations of EKAS survey transects

291

14.2. The 50 densest units with Early Roman pottery

293

14.3. The 50 most diverse units with Early Roman pottery

293

14.4. The 50 densest units with Late Roman pottery

294

14.5. The 50 most diverse units with Late Roman pottery

294

14.6. Early Roman and Late Roman Density LOCAs plotted against road corridors of the Isthmus

295

14.7. Roman sites near the Kromna-Perdikaria crossroads

307

14.8. View of the Perdikaria ridge, with ER and LR Density LOCAs 7–9

307

15.1. Fortress wall between Towers 6 and 7

314

15.2. Interiors of Towers 8 and 9 of the South Gate

315

15.3. Fortress wall adjacent to Tower 7

316

15.4. Scale elevation of the fortress wall adjacent to Tower 7

316

15.5. Northern section of the fortress wall adjacent to Tower 14 317 15.6. Scale elevation of the fortress wall adjacent to Tower 14

317

15.7. Column drum from the Temple of Poseidon near the western wall of the Fortress

319

15.8. Modified anathyrosis in the Tower 7 area

323

15.9. Details of four of the square cuttings in the face of the Tower 7 walls

324

16.1. Viktorinos inscription, IG IV 204

329

17.1. Type XXXII lamp Corinth L-1969-143

342

17.2. Stamp types on type XXXII lamps

345

taBLes

5.1. Sizes of Comparable Kotylai and Skyphoi 6.1. Contents of the Temple Deposit of Coins at Isthmia by Mint 14.1. Early Roman Artifacts and Ancient Building Materials at Early Roman Density LOCAs

92 100–101 299

14.2. Late Roman Artifacts and Ancient Building Materials at Late Roman Density LOCAs 300–301 14.3. Early Roman Density LOCAs with Agricultural Equipment

302

14.4. Late Roman Density LOCAs with Agricultural Equipment

302

Gen eraL P Lan s

Plan a. Map of the eastern Corinthia

80

WEST C E M E T E RY

MI

LI

ON LL

SA

C

D RE

GL

EN V

A ILL

GE

KY

R

AS

VR

YS

E 2000

RACHI SETTLEMENT

OF

2006 RESCUE E X C AVAT I O N S

I

H E X A M I L I O N R AV I N E

20

ROMAN B AT H

40

30

N

ISTHMIA

0

100

400 M.

SANCTUARY OF POSEIDON

FORTRESS

Plan B. isthmian sanctuary, Hexamilion fortress, and rachi settlement within the modern village of Kyras Vrysi

WA

50

KY

Y VR RA S

RG GO SI

E 100

80

XA

80

70

HE

90

60

50

U SO

ST EA TH 80

EY LL VA

R TE LA

M IU D ST A

40

30

20

20

30

N 18000

Plan C. restored plan of the major monuments of the isthmian sanctuary

Archaic

Manhole

Pit B

Pit A

Plan D. Period plan of the temenos of Poseidon and the Palaimonion

Antonine, ca. A.D. 161–168 (Palaimonion V)

Antonine, ca. A.D. 151–160 (Palaimonion IV)

Antonine, ca. A.D. 150 (Palaimonion III)

Hadrianic, ca. A.D. 125 (Palaimonion IIb)

Flavian, ca. A.D. 80–90 (Palaimonion IIa)

Neronian, ca. A.D. 50 (Palaimonion I)

Hellenistic

Classical

Reservoir

Pit C

30 Meters

int r od uc t i on by Elizabeth R. Gebhard and Timothy E. Gregory The bridge of the untiring sea honored Kreontidas at the biennial sacrifice of oxen by the neighboring peoples in the precinct of Poseidon. —Pind. Nem. 6.39–411

1. Trans. W. H. Race, Cambridge, Mass., 1997. 2. The editors owe an immense debt of gratitude to all those who have contributed to the study of the Isthmus over the years following the initial excavations of Oscar Broneer and Paul Clement. For the current project we are grateful for help and support to the Ephorate of Antiquities of Corinth and the ephor Konstantinos Kissas and his colleagues, to the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, its director in 2007 Stephen Tracy and his staff, and to his successors, Jack Davis and James Wright. Financial and administrative support for the conference and the publication was provided by the Joukowsky Family Foundation, the Packard Humanities Institute, the University of Chicago, and the Ohio State University with additional grants that are acknowledged by individual authors. At the Isthmia Museum Sara Strack and Jean Perras gave invaluable aid in all matters relating to study and presentation of the materials. Jean Perras handled preparation of the manuscript for publication. We are indebted to T. D. Barnes and Virginia AndersonStojanović for their comments and to the anonymous readers. 3. Pullen and Tartaron 2007.

Pindar’s metaphor of the Isthmus as a bridge spanning two seas encapsulates the essence of the place and provides a fitting title for this volume of essays on the history and archaeology of the area. The Isthmus, best known for the panhellenic Sanctuary of Poseidon, attracted travelers both before and after Pausanias’s visit in the 2nd century a.d., but only toward the end of the 19th century were the ruins investigated and, after another half century, finally excavated. More recently, archaeologists have surveyed the territory beyond the sanctuary, compiling evidence for a varied picture of activity on the wider Isthmus and the eastern Corinthia. While specialist publications have appeared and further volumes are in preparation, the editors felt the need to celebrate 55 years of archaeological work at the Isthmus with a presentation of material from both the excavations and the survey. The event took place June 15–17, 2007, at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. The essays in this volume come from papers delivered at the conference and lay out for the first time the longue durée of Isthmian history.2 Additions to the program are Fikret Yegül’s study of the Roman Bath (Chapter 12) and Jon Frey’s discussion of spolia in the Late Antique fortifications (Chapter 15). Missing is Daniel Geagan’s paper on the triangular victor stelai, which will be included in his book “Isthmian Inscriptions after 44 b.c.” that Matthew Trundle is editing for publication. Dan attended the conference with his wife, Helen, and daughter, but died shortly afterward. We are saddened by the loss of a fine colleague and friend who did much to illuminate Isthmia’s history and games. David Reese’s survey of the faunal remains (“Food and Sacrifice at Isthmia: The Bone Evidence”) will form part of future Isthmia publications, and Daniel Pullen’s contribution “Where’s the Palace? Long-Term Settlement Stability and Mycenaean States in the Corinthia” is published elsewhere.3 Frederick (Fritz) Hemans, Associate Director and Architect of the University of Chicago Isthmia Excavations, died suddenly on February 28, 2013. For 26 years, he played a key role in every aspect of the excavations, as archaeologist, manager, and guide to students. He will be sorely missed.

2

elizabe th r. gebhard and timothy e. gregory

sCenes oF tH e istH M us F roM an t i q u i t y In Pindar’s description of Kreontidas’s victory at the Isthmian Games, the poet imagines the Isthmus itself as praising the victor, thus uniting land and sea as Poseidon’s domain. Although lacking a similarly explicit picture for earlier periods, the same pattern of sacrifices, feasts, and offerings can be seen in the material remains at the sanctuary from the beginning of the Early Iron Age. For centuries, Corinthians and their neighbors left vessels, made dedications, sacrificed cattle and sheep, and very likely competed in contests dedicated to Poseidon. Construction of a race track by the middle of the 6th century b.c. marks the beginning of panhellenic games.4 It is Herodotos who places the sanctuary at center stage in Greek affairs, with his account of an assembly held in the late summer of 481 b.c. at which delegates from “all Greeks who were in a better way of thinking about Greece” met at the Isthmus and swore to put aside their local conflicts and make a united front against the enemy (7.145).5 The next year construction of a fortification wall began the transformation of the Isthmus into a line of defense and a potential battleground (Hdt. 8.71). The sanctuary’s treasures would have been tempting spoil. Herodotos mentions a Phoenician warship (8.121) and a bronze statue of Poseidon seven cubits tall (9.81), both derived from Persian booty. Further signs of fortification belong to the Hellenistic period, and perhaps just earlier. They show that the passes in the Oneion mountain chain played an important role in the regional defenses, since they were fortified with several towers and long walls to prevent enemies from crossing the mountains and outflanking defenses.6 The Isthmian sanctuary flourished under the Macedonians, and, with its mother-city Corinth, it continued as a meeting place used by Philip II, Alexander, and the League of Corinth.7 At the Isthmian Games of 302 b.c. Demetrios Poliorcetes presided over the final meeting of the league at which he called together delegates from all the Greek cities and free territories to celebrate his “liberation” of Peloponnesian cities and to reconstitute the organization. Predictably it did not last. “Liberation” recurred as a theme of perhaps the most famous of all assemblies recorded for the Isthmus. After the end of the Second Macedonian War (200–197 b.c.), in which Roman and allied Greek forces defeated Philip V, the terms of peace had been drawn up at Corinth and the Roman general Titus Quinctius Flamininus took the occasion of the Isthmian Games in spring 196 b.c. to announce his terms of settlement for the Greek cities. The proclamation was made in the Isthmian stadium, and Polybios (18.46) and Livy (33.32) give vivid accounts of the cheering with which the crowd greeted the news. What the historians do not mention is the military action that took place during the siege of Corinth in 198 b.c. Monuments of the sanctuary were left in ruins and the Temple of Poseidon severely damaged.8 Perhaps in the same attack, the nearby settlement on the Rachi was utterly destroyed (see Anderson-Stojanović, Chapter 4). Evidence of these events is preserved only in the archaeological record, yet the destruction must have cast a pall over the joyous occasion. One can

4. Early Iron Age: Isthmia VIII. Isthmian Games: Gebhard 1992; Gebhard and Hemans 1992; Gebhard 2002a. Most historical sources are cited in RE IX.2, 1916, cols. 2248–2255, s.v. Isthmia (K. Schneider) and cols. 2256– 2265, s.v. Isthmos (D. Fimmen). 5. The first meeting is generally thought to have been held at Poseidon’s temple; the second assembly explicitly was (Hdt. 7.172). Pausanias (3.12.6) places it at Sparta. 6. Wiseman 1978, pp. 60–62; Caraher and Gregory 2006. For a Hellenistic trans-Isthmian wall, see Wiseman 1963. 7. The Roman account of “Greeks” deciding at the Isthmian Games of 332 b.c. to send a gold crown to Alexander (Curt. 4.5.11) seems to presume a council meeting of delegates and proclamation to the crowd, which is a pattern recorded for the games of 302 b.c. The constitution of the League of Corinth as revived in 302 b.c. established that meetings were to be held in the panhellenic sanctuaries at the time of the sacred games: Hammond and Walbank 1988, pp. 176–177, with bibliography. For international meetings at Corinth and Isthmia, see Wiseman 1979, p. 539, table 3. 8. Wiseman 1979, pp. 458, 539; Gebhard 2011.

introduction

9. Suet. Ner. 24.2. For Corinthian coins depicting the event and the date, see Amandry 1988, pp. 14–22; for the text of the speech, see IG VII 2713. 10. Thuc. 1.13.5; Strabo 8.6.22 [C 380]. Salmon (1984, pp. 402–406) credits Corinthian technical skills and political stability, rather than trade, for its prosperity. 11. Wiseman 1978, pp. 45–48, 74, n. 7 (references); Salmon 1984, pp. 136– 139; Raepsaet 1993; Pettegrew (2011) reviews the evidence and stresses the role of the Isthmus as emporion “for the redistribution of goods.” Questions about the precise function and chronology of the roadway remain open. 12. Wiseman 1978, p. 46, n. 10. 13. Plut. Thes. 25; Strabo 9.1.6 [C 392]. 14. Gregory and Mills 1984, pp. 427–429; Isthmia V, pp. 52–56. 15. For Pausanias at the Isthmus, see Gebhard 2013, with earlier bibliography. Corinthian coins of the 2nd century a.d. with detailed images of Palaimon and the Palaimonion are discussed in Walbank 2010, pp. 173–180, and Gebhard 2005, pp. 189–203. Also omitted by Pausanias, if indeed he saw them, are monuments attested epigraphically: temples to Demeter and Kore, Dionysos, Artemis, Eueteria, Kore, and the Plutoneion (Isthmia II, pp. 113–116 [Sacred Glen]), as well as a stoa with rooms for athletes (Geagan 1989 [Iuventianos dedication]).

3

imagine the audience arriving for the games and seeing the devastation of the shrine and settlement on their way to the stadium. Nevertheless, Flamininus’s speech lived on in Greek memory. Nero, undoubtedly desiring to evoke a similar response, gave a speech again liberating the Greeks in the same stadium in a.d. 66.9 It was the economic importance of the Isthmus that interested Thucydides and Strabo.10 They stress the benefits Corinth derived from land and maritime traffic through the ports of Lechaion and Kenchreai on both sides of the Isthmus. Livy sums up the commercial side of the crossroads by calling it “the marketplace of Greece and Asia” (32.33). Transport of goods and ships across the Isthmus was facilitated by a paved roadway known as the diolkos, remains of which have been found along the Corinth Canal.11 As late as a.d. 873 a Byzantine fleet under Niketas Oryphas is recorded as having been dragged across the Isthmus to surprise the Saracens in the Gulf of Corinth.12 For Athenians the Isthmus was an ethnic border to which their hero Theseus had given concrete definition by erecting a column inscribed on one side, “Here is not Peloponnesos, but Ionia,” while on the other it read “Here is Peloponnesos, not Ionia.”13 Timothy Gregory has suggested that the triple-gated Roman arch spanning the roadway at the northeast entrance to the sanctuary was seen as marking the separation of mainland Greece from the Peloponnese.14 On the other hand, Pausanias notes that the Isthmus united rather than divided Greece, remarking that “this is what makes the region to the south mainland” (2.1.5). Of the few surviving accounts that mention the monuments of the sanctuary, Pausanias’s is the most complete, though highly selective (2.1.7–2.2). He passes over many buildings, such as the large Roman Bath (see Yegül, Chapter 12) and several stoas known from excavation, but he includes a mysterious altar to the Cyclopes. After briefly mentioning the stadium and theater and noting the Temple of Poseidon, he dwells on a magnificent gold and ivory statue group dedicated by Herodes Atticus. Nearby stood a second temple belonging to the Isthmian hero Palaimon, with statues of the boy, Ino-Leukothea, his mother, and Poseidon. Beyond the temple, he says, was the hero’s adyton where unbreakable oaths were administered. The traveler says nothing about Palaimon’s mysteries, known from other sources (Aristid. Or. 46.40; Philostr. Her. 52.3), nor does he mention the pits for holocaustic sacrifices that have been uncovered in the excavations. More informative about Palaimon’s shrine are the images on Corinthian Imperial coins, which constitute a rich pictorial album for his monuments. In Roman times the boy, worshipped both as a hero and as a marine deity, was second only to Poseidon at the Isthmus.15 During the following two centuries the Isthmus and its sanctuary attracted little attention in the written sources. A notable exception is a petition of Libanius in the form of a speech (Or. 14) presented at Antioch to the emperor Julian in a.d. 363 in order to restore a Corinthian friend, Aristophanes, to imperial favor. The orator mentions that his father, Menander, had taken part in the mysteries of Poseidon on the Isthmus, and Aristophanes himself knew the secrets of Ino and her son, Melikertes-

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Palaimon. Where mysteries might have taken place and how they were performed is a matter for future investigation.16 The Roman bath building and the structures in the area East of Temenos continued in use, according to the archaeological evidence, during the 4th century (see Ellis and Poehler, Chapter 13),17 but the theater, while standing, ceased to be maintained from the middle to the end of the 3rd century.18 It is difficult to place in time the last celebrations of the Isthmian Games, but they may have continued in some way through the 4th century. Massive earthquakes in the second half of the century caused the vaults in the theater and bath to collapse, effectively putting both buildings out of commission. With Alaric’s sack of Corinth in a.d. 395/6 and imperial opposition to pagan rites, including persecution under Valens (364–378) and Theodosius I (379–395), ritual activity probably ended. Construction of a massive trans-Isthmian fortification wall and fortress in the early 5th century that utilized blocks from the buildings of the sanctuary marked a new era on the Isthmus (see Chapters 15 by Frey and 16 by Caraher).19

Geo G raP Hy anD toPo G ra P Hy In order to consider the Isthmus in its geographic context we must consider the Corinthia as a whole. Geographically, as well as in imagination, the place is dominated by Acrocorinth and the Isthmus (Plan A).20 Acrocorinth, of course, visible from most places in the Corinthia, provided refuge in times of danger and commanded a powerful position that controlled access in and out of the Peloponnese. The Isthmus is the entrance into the Peloponnese from the north, and a narrow one at that: at its narrowest point, along the line of the Corinth Canal, the land is only six kilometers wide, and all traffic, today as in antiquity, has to pass through that narrow and necessarily congested corridor. Although Wiseman has pointed to a road running directly across Geraneia from Boiotia,21 travelers along this road would still be funneled through the narrow neck of the Isthmus; travelers along the so-called Skironian Road had to cross the rugged heights of the Kake Skala between Megara and ancient Krommyon and pass through the relatively narrow space along the south side of the Isthmus, constrained by the mountains on the north and the Saronic Gulf on the south.22 Southwest of the line of the Corinth Canal, the Isthmus widens significantly and forms a land that is relatively flat and of moderate fertility, wealthy enough to encourage significant habitation in all periods of antiquity, from the Middle Neolithic to the Late Roman period.23 Within the broader area of the Isthmus south of the canal we can identify a number of different natural regions. The largest of these is the relatively consistent landscape of the interior, away from the coasts, stretching to the eastern outskirts of ancient Corinth (i.e., to the valley of the Xeropotamos River). Like the whole of the northern plain of the Corinthia, the land here was formed geologically under the sea and then uplifted as

16. Games and cults in the 4th century a.d.: Rothaus 2000, pp. 84–90; Gregory 2010, pp. 449–451, 455–460; Isthmia IX, pp. 114–118. 17. A group of small-scale sculptures with clearly “pagan” content, found in the area East of Temenos, strongly suggests the continuation of respect for the old gods at Isthmia, but this, of course, may have been more private than public in nature: Gregory 2010, pp. 458–460. 18. For the final cleaning of the theater, see Gebhard 1973, pp. 133–134. For the end of sacrifices in the Palaimonion, see Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998, pp. 442–444. For the latest Roman pottery at the sanctuary, see Hayes, forthcoming. 19. Isthmia V; Gregory 1995, 2010. 20. Wiseman 1978, pp. 9–10, 45–80. 21. Wiseman 1978, pp. 20–22. 22. Wiseman 1978, pp. 17–20. 23. Tartaron et al. 2006.

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24. Tartaron et al. 2006, pp. 470– 472, figs. 9, 10. 25. Tartaron et al. 2006, fig. 10. 26. Stroud 1971; Wiseman 1978, pp. 53–56; Caraher and Gregory 2006. 27. Isthmia II, pp. 1–3; Clement and Thorne 1974.

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a result of tectonic activity in a large number of events that left a series of roughly east–west broken ridges that step down gradually from south to north.24 Thus, the land of the northeastern Corinthia is characterized by a succession of relatively flat plateaus, extending east–west, that begin in the south in the foothills of the Oneion mountains; within each of these the land descends slightly from south to north, then breaks sharply down along a cliff face, and another plateau begins below. Along and just before the line of the cliffs, the limestone bedrock (interspersed with layers of conglomerate and white clay) is close to the surface, providing good access to stone for quarrying and encouraging the formation of caves and natural springs. The soil in this region is relatively consistent, made up primarily of Pleistocene red, clayey sand.25 Along the coast of the Saronic Gulf the geology is significantly different, with the landscape dominated by recent alluvial deposits. The limestone bedrock is broken, largely as a result of tectonic activity, and the east–west trending ridges break the landscape in such a way as to impede north–south travel and to create a significantly uneven coastline. There are conspicuous inlets and small peninsulas reaching into the sea all the way from the canal to the eastern edge of the Oneion chain, just south of Loutra Elenes. A third region is Oneion itself, a long east–west mass of Mesozoic limestone that runs from the Saronic Gulf westward to a spot just above the Xeropotamos River, shutting off the northern part of the Corinthia from the rolling countryside of the Athikia basin to the south.26 Increasingly rapid development along the coasts and in the villages continues to threaten significant quantities of important archaeological evidence. Nonetheless, in many parts of the interior the eastern Corinthia remains much the way it was in antiquity, and it continues to yield information about all periods of the past. In the immediate area of the Isthmus, dispersal of debris from the Corinth canal has complicated reconstruction of the ancient topography and stratigraphy, especially at the east side of the Sanctuary of Poseidon in the area of the Hexamilion wall and the Fortress (Plan B). On the other hand, the valleys and gullies that define the territory of the shrine remain distinct: a deep ravine along the north side was used later for defensive advantage by the builders of the Hexamilion wall, the Southeast Valley accommodated the Later Stadium, and the Kyras Vrysi gorge, formed by the village spring at the west end of the modern settlement, marked the limit of the sanctuary, beyond which lay a cemetery with graves beginning in the 6th century b.c.27 The Temple of Poseidon and its temenos stood on a low, approximately triangular plateau running northeast–southwest and bounded by gullies that were a result of water draining from the Rachi (Plan C). The area of the temenos remained a triangle until extensive alterations in the 2nd century a.d. created the rectangular space seen today (Plan D). The geology follows the characteristic pattern that can be observed throughout the Corinthia: a thick layer of white marl covered by thin layers of conglomerates and oolitic limestone. Erosion has greatly altered the prehistoric surfaces, in many places leaving a range of weathering products that help to determine the surfaces predating human intervention. The earliest manmade feature,

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belonging to the 8th century b.c., is a path leading to the southeast end of the plateau from the direction of the Saronic Gulf. Another track very likely ran through the gully along the north side of the area, which is a route followed by later cart roads between Corinth and the Isthmus. The plateau thus lay on a well-traveled route between the Saronic coast and the city.28

ea r Ly traVeLers anD arC H ae oLo Gis ts Little is known of the appearance of the region during the Byzantine era, but one of the first recorded western visitors was Cyriacus of Ancona, who arrived at the Isthmus in 1436 and remarked primarily on the fortifications. He was intrigued by the “prophecies” inscribed in stone on the walls themselves, predicting that a rebuilding of the Hexamilion fortifications by the Despot (and future emperor) Constantine Palaiologos would be successful.29 George Wheler about 1676 recorded ruins of a town, old walls, several churches, and a theater,30 while Col. William Leake in 1806 described the trans-Isthmian wall and the Fortress in considerable detail, identifying the enceinte as the “peribolos of the temple of Neptune.”31 Traces of a Roman theater seem always to have been recognizable, but only Diedrich Fimmen in his article of 1916 recognized that the fortifications, thought by virtually all others to be the Sanctuary of Poseidon, dated to the early Byzantine period.32 Paul Monceaux, during his student days in Athens in 1883, looked for the ruins of Homer’s Ephyra at the Isthmus and cleared some of the fortress walls and adjacent structures. Following Leake and others, he identified the Fortress as the Isthmian precinct wall and imagined that the temples of Poseidon and Palaimon lay inside.33 Paul Clement, in his excavation of the Northeast Gate of the Fortress (1967 and 1969), encountered some of the reasonably deep soundings made there by Monceaux, and Gregory confirmed Fimmen’s observation that the gate had originally been freestanding.34 On the ridge south of the sanctuary, substantial remains of a town led Monceaux to believe that he had in fact discovered Homeric Ephyra, and he described the houses, roads, stairways, and cisterns in great detail. His account remains difficult to interpret, however, in light of modern excavations that revealed similar houses, roads, stairways, and cisterns built in the later 4th century b.c. and thoroughly destroyed at the beginning of the 2nd century b.c. (see Anderson-Stojanović, Chapter 4). Nearly everything the French scholar saw and described in considerable detail has vanished. A part of the town farther west on the ridge may have remained in some state of preservation before modern quarrying removed the surface, although it is hard to believe that the complete destruction of the eastern half in 198 b.c. would have left so much in place at the west. Leake’s and Monceaux’s conclusions prevailed until 1932 when, through exploratory excavation and ceramic analysis, Romilly Jenkins and his architect A. H. S. (Peter) Megaw of the British School in Athens showed that the Fortress and the structures beneath it did not predate the

28. Hayward in Isthmia VIII, pp. 3– 14 (pre-8th century topography); Gebhard in Isthmia VIII, pp. 195–225 (Early Iron Age activity), fig. I.66 (path). 29. Bodnar 1960; Isthmia V, pp. 20– 21, nos. 14, 15 (testimonia). 30. Isthmia V, p. 24, no. 24. 31. Isthmia V, pp. 25–26, no. 26. 32. RE IX.2, 1916, cols. 2261–2262, s.v. Isthmos. 33. Monceaux 1884; 1885, pp. 402– 405 (Rachi). 34. Clement 1968, 1970; Isthmia V, pp. 52–56.

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Roman period, and therefore that the famous panhellenic sanctuary had to lie elsewhere.35 They found blocks suitable for a Classical temple on the central plateau, but, without identifying the foundations, they could not be certain that they had located the Temple of Isthmian Poseidon.

exCaVat i on an D P u BLi Cat ion s

35. Jenkins and Megaw 1931–1932, pp. 69–79. 36. Clement and Thorne 1974.

In 1952 Oscar Broneer, professor at the University of Chicago, turned to the Isthmian sanctuary as the last of the four panhellenic centers to be uncovered. While its general location was known, the Temple of Poseidon and related buildings mentioned by Pausanias had not been discovered. From the vantage point of the ridge south of the plateau, he identified the field below as a likely site for a large Doric temple, and in one long exploratory trench the rock-cut footings for the Classical building came to light. Subsequently, in systematic campaigns from 1952 to 1967 the central buildings of the shrine were excavated: the temple and precinct of Poseidon, the Early Stadium, the shrine to Palaimon, the theater, and a monument west of the sanctuary that he named the West Foundation. He explored the Roman Bath, the Late Antique Fortress and Hexamilion, the Later Stadium, and smaller structures. South of the main temenos, with the help of Chrysoula Kardara, he partially excavated the Rachi settlement. In 1967, after Broneer retired from the University of Chicago, Paul Clement began a second series of excavations sponsored by the University of California at Los Angeles. He concentrated on the Roman Bath, the Late Antique fortifications, and an area east of the main temenos known as the East Field (or the area East of Temenos). In addition, he excavated an early Greek cemetery on the edge of the modern village, ca. 800 m west of the Temple of Poseidon (Plan B).36 Since Broneer’s retirement from directorship of the Chicago Excavations in 1976 and Clement’s death in 1986, the editors of this volume have continued their work, Gebhard following Broneer for the University of Chicago and Gregory taking over from Clement, supported by the Ohio State University. Broneer’s three monographs (Isthmia I, II, III), along with a fourth by Gebhard (1973), document the buildings and lamps excavated under Broneer’s direction. Gregory published the Hexamilion wall and the Fortress in Isthmia V. Clement’s excavation reports appeared in Ἀρχαιολογικὸν Δελτίον. Publication of objects from the sanctuary began in 1988 with Mary Sturgeon’s monograph on the marble sculpture found prior to 1967 (Isthmia IV), followed by Steven Lattimore’s volume on the marble sculpture found between 1967 and 1980 (Isthmia VI), and that of Isabelle Raubitschek on metal objects (Isthmia VII). Catherine Morgan combined pottery with objects of metal and terracotta in her comprehensive study of the Late Bronze Age settlement and Early Iron Age sanctuary (Isthmia VIII). Late Roman and Byzantine burials, largely in the area of the Fortress, are published by Joseph Rife in Isthmia IX. Further volumes in the Isthmia series are in preparation.

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reC ent exCaVat ions anD Con s erVat ion During preparations for the publication of objects from Broneer’s excavations, it became evident that more contextual and stratigraphic information was needed. Furthermore, Catherine Morgan in 1984 found significant quantities of Early Iron Age pottery that Broneer had not identified. It became apparent that rites to Poseidon had begun at the sanctuary much earlier than previously thought. In preparation for further excavation, John Hayes described all previously excavated pottery in context storage, and Frederick Hemans cleaned and documented Broneer’s trenches in the central sanctuary. Excavation came in the fall of 1989, supported by generous grants from the National Endowment for the Humanities and private donors, and with a team that included almost everyone then engaged in the Isthmia publications. With the aid of modern equipment, the expertise of ceramic specialists, and the help of many fine students, it was possible to establish a more precise chronology for the shrine and thus to follow its history from the Early Iron Age through the Roman period.37 Several contributors to this volume participated in the excavations and have combined the newly excavated material with that uncovered by Broneer to develop their arguments.38 Timothy Gregory continues Paul Clement’s work in the Roman Bath building, directing his attention to the rich decorative program of the building and to conservation of the great mosaic in the central hall. His study seasons and workshops have enabled a generation of students to learn the techniques of recovery, analysis, and conservation of archaeological materials. It was in the process of lifting the mosaic that the Greek pool underneath was revealed.39 Nick Kardulias contributed new insights into the transition between antiquity and the Middle Ages in the sanctuary area, and the use of flaked stone tools that appear in Classical contexts.40 New projects in the East Field and along the Hexamilion and Fortress are reported on in this volume by Ellis and Poehler in Chapter 13 and Frey in Chapter 15.

su rVey Excavation is not the only archaeological method that has been used for the discovery and study of the ancient Corinthia. Systematic archaeological exploration of the wider Isthmus was undertaken between 1999 and 2003 by the Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey (EKAS), directed in 1999 by Timothy Gregory and Frederick Hemans, and in 2000–2003 by Gregory and Daniel Pullen.41 This project was an intensive, multidisciplinary, diachronic surface survey, based on a detailed investigation of a sample of the land in this region. Knowledge of the Isthmus in general and especially patterns of settlement, routes of communication, sources of raw materials, and much else has proceeded from this wideranging project, which forms the basis of Chapters 2 and 14 in this volume.

37. Excavation reports: Gebhard and Hemans 1992; Gebhard and Hemans 1998; Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998. Further articles are listed in the bibliography and on the Univeristy of Chicago Isthmia Excavations web site: http://lucian.uchicago.edu/ blogs/isthmia/. The succeeding study seasons (1990–1998) would not have been possible without funds from the National Endowment for the Humanities and private donors and the unfailing support of the several deans and the staff of the Division of Humanities of the University of Chicago. 38. Hemans, Chapter 3; AndersonStojanović, Chapter 4; Risser, succeeding Julie Bentz, Chapter 5; Houghtalin, Chapter 6; Thomsen, succeeding David Mitten, Chapter 7; Arafat, Chapter 8; Gregory, coeditor of volume. 39. Gregory 1995. Ohio State University Isthmia Excavations web site: http://isthmia.osu.edu/. 40. Kardulias 2005, 2009. 41. Tartaron et al. 2006.

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ne w Me tH o Ds an D aP P roaC H es Methods and approaches concerning an understanding of the past in classical archaeology are, in general, fairly conservative. Nonetheless, nearly all of the chapters in this volume reflect new trends in archaeological fieldwork and study. Especially important in this regard are the two chapters that deal with newly discovered sites of the Mycenaean period. Not only do they present significant new information about how we can view the Corinthia in the prehistoric period, they derive from types of exploration that have previously not always played a large role in archaeological research and publication. Thus, Eleni Balomenou and Vasili Tassinos (Chapter 1) present evidence for a Mycenaean house that was discovered in a rescue excavation prior to construction of a private modern building. As is well known, such rescue excavations do not normally yield results that enter into scholarly discussion, beyond brief mention as part of a report from the Greek Archaeological Service. In the present instance, however, the archaeologists involved in the investigation were quick to realize the importance of the structure they found, and they applied appropriate methods to record and document the building so it could be fully reported here. In a different setting, the Mycenaean site of Kalamianos, not far from the seaside village of Korphos on the Saronic coast, was discovered in the course of archaeological survey and its location had been “targeted” as part of the EKAS project’s predictive modeling. The team had drawn up a list of characteristics that were associated with known prehistoric sites in the Corinthia, and they used the project’s computer-based Geographical Information System (GIS) to predict where other sites of the period might be found. Thus, in a way very different from that of a rescue excavation, the EKAS project discovered the site of Kalamianos, as described by Thomas Tartaron in Chapter 2. Common to both of these important prehistoric finds, however, was their discovery not by an organized archaeological excavation but through other means. One imagines that both of these methods, in various forms, will in the future play a greater role in the archaeology of Greece.

tH e s an C t uary an D tH e C i t y oF Corin t H Explored through a variety of approaches and diversity of materials, the identity of the Isthmus and its ties to the city remain central to our understanding of the Corinthia from the Archaic period through late antiquity. The closeness of those ties emerges from analysis of the archaeological context of the sanctuary as revealed in the excavations, while the eastern Corinthia survey, along one of the city’s main routes of access to the Isthmus, further enlarged the picture. A brief overview of Chapters 3–17 will help to bring together the diverse aspects of the research represented in this volume. In Chapter 3, Frederick Hemans, directing his attention to the Archaic Temple of Poseidon, explores the origins of Corinthian stone architecture,

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its concepts and methods, and shows the way in which innovative Corinthian architects of the early 7th century b.c. developed techniques to mass-produce, transport, and install the blocks in the temple on the Isthmus. His analysis highlights the central role of Corinth as the source of all elements of the temple—blocks, roof tiles, and timbers—which were transported to the Isthmus for assembly and finishing. Turning to a domestic context, Virginia Anderson-Stojanović in Chapter 4 draws on the compact nature of the architecture of the Rachi settlement to reveal a pattern of life in which families shared facilities and were mutually dependent on one another for their daily needs. Production of olive oil, perhaps to supply the sanctuary at the time of the games, seems to have been a shared enterprise. While similar domestic architecture has not been found at Corinth, the ceramic vessels used in the houses will have been made in the city. Martha Risser, through her detailed knowledge of Corinthian pottery, ties the needs of the sanctuary to the production capacity of the city (Chapter 5). Arguing that the Corinthian pottery industry supplied mass-produced cups and bowls to be used for the feast at the Isthmian festival, she shows how the sanctuary in turn was a major contributor to the city’s prosperity. Most dedications to the gods of the sanctuary did not survive, either destroyed in the catastrophic fire of ca. 460–450 b.c. or in later times, so that their origins, for the most part, remain unknown.42 On the other hand, Corinth was the source of many of the small offerings that have survived. Arne Thomsen (Chapter 7) notes that, although the collection of terracotta figurines is amazingly small in comparison to sites in Corinth, the types are appropriate to Poseidon. More surprising is a separate group of largely female figurines that were found in an area west of the main temenos, where two inscribed dedications to Demeter suggest that the goddess had a shrine in the vicinity. The elaborately decorated oil containers, such as the alabastron that Karim Arafat restores in Chapter 8 and attributes to a painter close to the Chigi Painter, were undoubtedly Corinthian products. From the collection of 130 silver coins found in the debris of the Archaic Temple that Liane Houghtalin discusses in Chapter 6, Corinth with 59 examples comes second only to Aigina with 61. She points out that the group very likely represents only a small portion of the total amount that would have been in the temple treasury, perhaps gifts to the god and/or revenues from his estates. A complex picture of Corinthian interests emerges from Alastar Jackson’s identification of a Macedonian origin for the iron weapons found in a monumental heroon or cenotaph known as the West Foundation that stood along one of the major roads linking Corinth with the Isthmus.43 It was built and intentionally destroyed between ca. 350 and 320 b.c. In his essay (Chapter 9) Jackson draws historical implications deriving from the presence of Macedonian weapons in a Corinthian monument of the period. After the sack of Corinth by Roman troops in 146 b.c. and removal of the Isthmian Games to Sikyon, the sanctuary appears to have been abandoned for about two centuries. Few remains of activity can be identified as belonging to that interval. Significant signs of renewal appear around the

42. The marble perirrhanterion that stood in the colonnade of the Archaic Temple is an exception. From the style Sturgeon suggests a Samian artist with the carving done at the site. It serves to remind us of the international contacts the sanctuary enjoyed; Isthmia IV, pp. 51–53. 43. Isthmia II, pp. 117–122.

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44. Kajava (2002b) argues for a.d. 43. For the interval, see Gebhard and Dickie 2003. For the Early Roman period, see Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998; Gebhard 2005. 45. Isthmia II, pp. 99–112; Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998, pp. 433–446. 46. Gregory 1995.

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middle of the 1st century a.d., when the Isthmian Games were returned to their traditional venue.44 By the end of the 1st century, the Temple of Poseidon had been rebuilt and the temenos was surrounded by a high wall. Palaimon received his first temple at the east side of Poseidon’s precinct, perhaps in honor of Hadrian’s visit in a.d. 125. With expansion of the main temenos and construction of stoas the temple was moved and connected by a passage to his adyton or tomb (Plan D).45 From this final phase of the Palaimonion Mary Sturgeon in Chapter 10 reconstructs a group of monumental marble statues that had been excavated by Broneer. In one of the figures she recognizes the wealthy Isthmian benefactor and high priest Publius Licinius Priscus Iuventianus, and in the three others she identifies initiates of high status to Palaimon’s mysteries. The figures add a new dimension to our knowledge of the cult and its sanctuary, and, while fragmentary, they represent the most important Roman sculpture recovered outside the Temple of Poseidon. Although the popularity of the Isthmian Games attracted competitors from a wide area, the epigraphic record of events and victors from Roman times is meager. In Chapter 11 James Wiseman presents the initial publication of a herm from his excavations in the Gymnasium area at Corinth. The text, although fragmentary, is a list of officers and victors at three sets of games—Sebastea in honor of Nero (full title for the first time), the Isthmia, and the Caesarea—when the agonothetes of all three was Tiberius Claudius Dinippus. The festivals were held in a.d. 57, as dated by the consular year, which does not coincide with a year in which Sebastea had been expected to occur with the Isthmia and Caesarea, according to scholars who have accepted the concept and a fixed cycle for the “Greater Isthmia.” The principal officers of the festivals are named and studied, including the first mention in Corinth and Isthmia of a xystarches, Gn. Babbius Italicus, probable son of the well-known benefactor of Corinth Gn. Babbius Philinus. The author argues that the cycles of ancient games and their programs of contests were more flexible than has been thought in the past. Today, the well-preserved remains of a large Roman bath building of the mid-2nd century stand at the north side of the central temenos as the most conspicuous structure at the sanctuary. Clement devoted his principal attention to excavating the building, beginning in 1972, and Gregory has continued the work through further exploration and conservation of the structure and its great and remarkable mosaic.46 Fikret Yegül in Chapter 12 places the Isthmian bath building in the context of baths at the main sanctuaries in Greece and suggests its role in the varied activities of the sanctuary and in the neighboring settlement well after the Isthmian Games had ended. In search of Pausanias’s road into the sanctuary (2.7), Clement explored an area east of the temenos where stray marbles had periodically come to light. He named it the East Field. In a series of long trenches he uncovered numerous structures that at the time defied interpretation. Steven Ellis and Eric Poehler have brought new techniques of analysis to bear on the puzzle. Through digital recording methods and their expression by means of GIS, they have undertaken a spatial, chronological, and functional study of the area to define individual buildings and their phases of construction

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elizabe th r. gebhard and timothy e. gregory

and use. In Chapter 13 they report the initial results of the project that, when complete, will considerably extend our knowledge of the later phases of the Roman sanctuary. Roman settlements on a larger scale are the subject of David Pettegrew’s study in Chapter 14. Drawing on the information from EKAS, he concludes that the city of Corinth was surrounded by a “suburban” halo of occupation consisting of farmsteads, villas, and larger communities from the 1st to the 7th centuries. A new study of the Hexamilion wall and the Fortress that so attracted and intrigued the early travelers and archaeologists because of their use of materials recycled from the sanctuary is undertaken by Jon Frey in Chapter 15. With the goal of exploring the varied construction techniques and aesthetic concerns of the small crews of men working on separate sections of the walls, he argues that an innovative and cooperative spirit among the workers in the dangerous days of the early 5th century led them to a creative use of spolia to achieve decorative effects. William Caraher in Chapter 16 also turns to the Fortress in his study of a well-known inscription erected by Viktorinos, an official of Justinian, that may once have greeted visitors at the Northeast Gate.47 Viewing the Isthmus now as thoroughly Christian, he presents the text as evidence for a sophisticated imperial policy that sought to unify authority in the person of the emperor. A more personal view of life in the 6th and 7th centuries is given by the clay lamps that form the subject of Birgitta Wohl’s contribution in Chapter 17. Lamps, which would have been carried in hand by those living in the Fortress and the surrounding area, provide us with information about the economy and manufacturing in late antiquity. Wohl singles out for examination a distinct group of lamps that were both circular and stamped and that have been identified at only a handful of sites. Since over half of the lamps known so far have been found in the Corinthia, she suggests Corinth or Argos as the source of their manufacture. The links between the city and its Isthmus thus continued well into late antiquity, and future studies of the Byzantine period will undoubtedly provide further evidence for the continuing vitality of that link.

47. Caraher’s chapter provides an appropriate welcome for the return of the inscription, which has finally found its way back to the Isthmus (with the kind assistance of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Corinth), where it is now displayed in the Isthmia Museum.

c hap ter 1

an early Mycenaean habitation Site at Kyras Vrysi by Eleni Balomenou and Vasili Tassinos

This is the first report of the discovery of a Mycenaean site in the vicinity of the temenos of Poseidon at the Isthmian sanctuary. The excavation was carried out by the then 37th Ephoreia of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities over a period of two months during the summer of 2006. Several walls were uncovered that appear to be part of an apsidal house of the Late Mycenaean period. In addition, an earlier phase of the site, possibly Early Mycenaean, is suggested by differences in the construction of the walls and by the dates of the pottery. The material found in these excavations sheds new light on the prehistory of the eastern Corinthia and in particular the area of the sanctuary. Prior to this discovery, the existence of a Mycenaean settlement had only been posited from ceramics that had been found dispersed throughout the excavations at the sanctuary.1 This recent work confirms the settlement and provides our first set of data about its form and architecture.

tH e s i te

1. Isthmia VIII. All illustrations in this chapter are by the authors and appear courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Corinth unless otherwise indicated. 2. The property is owned by Ioannis Balaphas.

In 2006, a set of soundings was made on a property located ca. 200 m due west of the Temple of Poseidon (Plan B) in response to a landowner’s intention to construct a house on the site.2 The property, covering ca. 592 m2 and sloping from west to east, is in an area that had not been previously explored. In two of the soundings, A1 and C1 (Fig. 1.1), parts of two walls came to light at a depth of less than 0.40 m below the modern surface. The first, in sounding A1, was of poor construction, a wall-like built feature composed mostly of clay and a few stones. The wall in sounding C1 was much better constructed and consisted of well-laid, large stones. The importance of the site was immediately recognized based on pottery of Late Helladic date that was found associated with these walls. The 37th Ephoreia of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities expedited the necessary procedures to initiate a full-scale excavation, and we were able to start the work a few months later.

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tH e exCaVat ion Our initial aim was to explore the exact nature of the remains that had already been exposed. It had become obvious from the soundings that if further remains were to be uncovered these would probably lie very close to the surface. The shallow depth of the soil suggested that well-preserved remains would not be found. As excavation progressed, however, we were pleasantly surprised by the degree of preservation. It appears that very little later activity occurred on the site, other than perhaps some shallow tilling for crops. We laid out our trenches with intervening balks to maintain stratigraphic control, and the first trench, A2, was positioned to surround the wall-like feature found in sounding A1 (Fig. 1.2). The trench was 4 × 4 m in size and revealed a continuation of the feature toward the east for a short distance: an additional two stones and some lumps of clay. With the removal of the lowest layer, two round holes in the bedrock were uncovered. The northwestern one appears to have been manmade and was probably carved into the rock for use as a posthole. The southern one might also have been used as a posthole, although it may not be a manmade feature. Each of the two cuttings measures ca. 0.10 m in diameter. Another feature in this trench was a large quadrangular cutting in the rock along the northeast edge of the trench that descends 0.30–0.40 m below the level of bedrock. Its length is about 3 m, but the full width has not yet been uncovered since it continues to the northeast. The fill in this cutting was dense and hard with a small amount of pebbles, and it contrasted sharply with the fill elsewhere in the trench. Some stones were visible in the northwest corner of trench A2, suggesting that there might be further architectural remains in this direction. Thus, a second 4 × 4 m trench, B2 (Fig. 1.2), was opened to the northwest

Figure 1.1. test trenches on the Balaphas property, looking southwest

a m y c e n a e a n h a b i tat i o n s i t e at k y r a s v r y s i

Figure 1.2. Plan of the rescue excavations on the Balaphas property

15

to test this hypothesis. As excavation in the new trench progressed, however, another broad cutting in bedrock was found, and within it a pile of fallen rocks (Fig. 1.3, bottom left). The cutting was almost 2 m in length and occupied the northeast part of the trench. Its depth was ca. 0.40 m, and it was filled with a soil similar to that within the A2 cutting. At the center of the fallen stones we recovered the upper part of a beaked jug (see Fig. 1.6:d, below). A third posthole was also revealed on the surface of the bedrock, this time rectangular in shape and clearly manmade. It measures 0.09 m in length and 0.08 m in width, while its depth reaches 0.10 m. Another hole found near the center of trench B2 is most probably a natural feature. Its depth (0.10 m) and shape, however, would have allowed its use as a posthole. Continuing our excavation, we turned our efforts toward the well-built wall that had been revealed in sounding C1. Another 4 × 4 m trench (C2) was opened in this area, surrounding the wall. In total, the wall that was

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Trench C2

Trench D3 South Wall

Trench B2

Northwest Wall

Trench D2

Northeast Wall

rock pile

uncovered, designated the “South Wall” (Figs. 1.2, 1.3), proved to be ca. 2.5 m in length and ca. 0.50 m wide, with a southwest–northeast orientation. On its southeast face another section of wall abuts it, but is preserved for a length of only 0.85 m. A few stones extending toward the northwest at the southwest end of the longer section of wall gave us the impression that additional pieces might lie in this direction. Next we expanded our excavation to the northwest by opening two more trenches. These trenches were designated D2 and D3, and they included most of the D1 sounding. Trench D2 revealed one wall, built of medium to large stones with small amounts of rubble infill and with a roughly northwest–southeast orientation. It was named the “Northeast Wall” (Figs. 1.2, 1.3, 1.4, upper left), and it measures ca. 3 m long and ca. 0.45 m wide. The builders of this wall incorporated portions of the uneven bedrock in the wall’s construction. Another feature of the wall is a curved extension that resembles a niche and joins the southern face. Within this trench we uncovered four broken vessels in situ (Fig. 1.4, nos. 1–4). The first was in the scarp on the northeast side of the trench; the second was very close to it, lying a few centimeters to the south within the trench. Both were large, undecorated vessels. Two other pots, one of them decorated, were uncovered southwest of the Northeast Wall in the same trench. Both show traces of burning, and the soil that surrounded them had a grayish color that seemed to spread toward the west (Fig. 1.5). The next trench (D3) was opened southwest of D2, to explore the area of the vases and the continuation of the wall in C2. About 0.20 m below the surface, a well-built wall was found crossing the trench from southeast to northwest, which we named the “Northwest Wall” (Figs. 1.2, 1.3). It was constructed of rather large stones carefully laid with very little rubble

Figure 1.3. excavation trenches with walls, looking southwest

a m y c e n a e a n h a b i tat i o n s i t e at k y r a s v r y s i

17

stratum of grayish soil

Figure 1.4 (top). Vessels found in situ in trench D2 Figure 1.5 (bottom). the excavated area after the end of the excavation, looking west, with the location of the stratum of grayish soil indicated

between them. At the center of the wall there is a gap 1.50 m wide. The northern section of the wall measured 1.10 m, the southern section 1.3 m, and its width varied between 0.38 m and 0.55 m. A small patch of what may have been a floor came to light just south of the southern end of the wall. It was composed of small pebbles that were embedded in hard, very dense soil similar to what was found in the large cuttings of trenches A2 and B2 (Fig. 1.2). At this point in the

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excavation, we arrived at the conclusion that this kind of fill had been placed in the irregular cavities of the bedrock to create a level surface inside and outside the building. A particularly large concentation was found near the east end of the Northwest Wall, where there was a cavity or cutting more than 0.60 m deep. Two large, almost round stones of equal size (Diam. 0.25–0.30 m) were found just east of the northern end of the Northeast Wall. Surrounding them was a continuation of the burnt layer noted earlier. Here the layer was quite thick and continued down to bedrock, a depth of ca. 0.20 m. This feature extended across most of the northern part of trench D3. As there were very few days left before the end of this phase of the excavation, we decided to leave untouched the northwest part of the property, where we suspected more walls existed, and instead turned our efforts toward the southeast. The trench opened adjacent to A2 (trench A3) brought to light another posthole. It was round in shape and, with a diameter of ca. 0.18 m, is much larger than the other three. When viewed from above, the four postholes form a shape similar to an apse. In conjunction with the wall-like built feature, they might have created an external shelter area, perhaps supporting an extension of the roof. During the second phase of excavation the remainder of the building was cleared, including the parts beneath the balks. Our first step was to expand the excavations to the northwest edge of the property with one large trench parallel to trenches D2 and D3 (Fig. 1.2, trench E). In this trench, we soon uncovered another wall that crossed the northwest part of the area. The newly discovered feature extended even further toward the southwest, and so trench Z was added in order to follow the course of the wall. It was exposed for a length of almost 15 m and stopped ca. 0.50 m from the property boundary. It is not certain whether this is in fact the terminus of the wall. This wall was composed of a single row of medium to large stones, all approximately of the same size, placed side by side. Based on the fact that it has only one face, it seems plausible to interpret it as a kind of retaining wall, or perhaps a border between houses, rather than as part of a building. Several other features were uncovered in the second phase of excavation. At the southwest part of the site, a pile of stones was found. We believe they had fallen there, but it is uncertain from which direction. Another feature uncovered at the northeast was a continuation of the pile of rocks that was uncovered previously in trench D2. These rocks formed a curve similar to that along the Northeast Wall and might have served a similar purpose—to enclose a small space adjacent to another wall. The two ends of the Northwest Wall were also explored. At the south end a few more stones were uncovered that provided a solid continuation of the wall. A few more stones, uncovered close to them but not of the same alignment, gave the impression that they might have fallen from the original wall or formed a niche or some other internal construction. At the other end, the situation was not clear. A few scattered blocks were found toward the northwest with gaps between them that obscured the continuation of the wall in this direction.

a m y c e n a e a n h a b i tat i o n s i t e at k y r a s v r y s i

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tH e a rC H i te C t u re

3. McDonald and Wilkie 1992, pp. 455–466. 4. McDonald and Wilkie 1992, p. 456, fig. 8.1. 5. McDonald and Wilkie 1992, p. 457, fig. 8.2. 6. McDonald and Wilkie 1992, pp. 456–457, figs. 8.2, 8.3.

Some preliminary observations can be made concerning the architectural remains that were uncovered, even though reservations remain regarding the typology and absolute chronology of the prehistoric masonry. The ground plan shows that three of the four major walls constituted one building, possibly apsidal, measuring about 6 m in width and 8 m in length. Certain differences between the walls suggest that they may have belonged to different phases of the building. On the plan, a slight difference in orientation between the Northwest and Northeast Walls can be observed. While the first seems to curve from the west toward the north, possibly the beginning of an apse, the Northeast Wall follows a rather straight line, with no obvious curvature. Another striking difference can be seen in the quality of construction. The Northeast Wall, composed of medium to large stones with little rubble fill, is built directly onto bedrock, incorporating the natural rock formation at one point. The Northwest Wall is composed of bigger stones, better combined, with almost no rubble fill, and is more carefully and strongly built; the South Wall has a similar construction. Comparing the wall construction at the Kyras Vrysi site with the types of Late Helladic wall construction at the settlement of Nichoria, further observations can be made. Four types of walls were in use during the Late Helladic I to IIIB periods at Nichoria.3 The construction of the Northeast Wall shares similarities with type 1 and possibly type 2.4 Both types were commonly used during Late Helladic I and II, with the second type reaching its peak during Late Helladic IIIA.5 The Northwest and South Walls are more similar to Nichoria type 3. These walls are more carefully built, with some horizontal bonding, and uses larger stones, features that are encountered starting in Late Helladic II and become more common in Late Helladic IIIA.6 Although dating by masonry styles is notoriously problematic, it seems that at the Kyras Vrysi site we have encountered types commonly in use during the Late Helladic I through Late Helladic IIIA periods. It is important to note that in most parts of the excavation, at various levels, a hard soil packed with embedded pebbles was present. This was the same substance that formed the pebbled floor within the structure and was found in most of the cavities and all cuttings made into the bedrock. Its purpose seems to be to fill in these natural or manmade features in order to level the rocky surface and adapt it for the construction of new building. As mentioned, there were several manmade cuttings. Three of them had a depth of 0.40–0.70 m. Their purpose is unclear but they must have belonged to an earlier building phase. It appears that, at some point, they went out of use and were filled with the pebbly soil mentioned above. Our hypothesis is that this happened during a second building phase, as part of a remodeling of the area. The Northeast Wall, which may have belonged to the first building phase, remained in use. The other walls and possibly the apse appear to have been added. The Northeast Wall seems originally to have been part of a rectangular building. Judging by the fact that this wall

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appears to continue toward the north, into the nearby property, it can be assumed that some of the remains of this structure might be located there. Of great importance for establishing a domestic use for this structure is the stratum of burnt soil. Its homogeneity in texture and color, its density, and its extent, covering the central part of the building with a radius of ca. 2 m, certainly indicate that it was not a random feature. This circleshaped stratum might have resulted from the collapse of a part of the wooden roof of the apse, burned in situ. Another possibility, and one more likely, is that the structure contained a hearth, and that the repeated use of this hearth resulted in a widespread area of ash mixed into the soil. Evidence to support this second theory is provided by the burnt vessels found within the stratum. In addition, some of the stones found inside the structure appear to form a border, and might have been placed there to encircle the hearth and perhaps to separate it from the rest of the internal area. Nonetheless, no animal bones or other organic materials were found in this stratum during excavation. Until analysis of the soil is conducted, we cannot know for certain whether this feature was a hearth, or whether it was a result of site formation processes. Another important feature of the dwelling is the group of postholes. Three of them were evidently manmade, carved into the bedrock, while the fourth may also have been intentionally cut. An extension of the roof could have been supported by wooden posts placed in these holes. No postholes were found, however, in the internal area of the building. It is possible that the roof of the dwelling was of such light material that it was supported only by its walls.

tH e Po t tery Only a few pieces of pottery from the Kyras Vrysi assemblage have been conserved thus far, with the remainder of the material highly eroded by the soil. Most of the sherds belong to small, undecorated shapes. Some fragments have lustrous black, brown, or red paint on pale yellow, green, or orange clay; these characteristics could be attributed to a very early phase of the Mycenaean period, Late Helladic I.7 One of the unpainted sherds has traces of incised decoration (Fig. 1.6:a). As far as we can tell, it is the only sherd with this characteristic Early Mycenaean style of decoration. It is a rim and shoulder fragment of a bowl and is decorated with a row of seven incisions. The piece appears to contain inclusions of gold-colored mica, which points to an Aiginetan provenience, and other characteristics of the fabric also seem to match Zerner’s descriptions of Aiginetan ware.8 Chemical analysis should be conducted in order to confirm this possibility. If true, the incisions might be identified as potter’s marks, as found in other places in the Peloponnese.9 The known geographical distribution of Middle Helladic and Early Mycenaean pottery attributed to the island of Aigina might be expanded by this discovery.10 This sherd appears to be earlier than the painted pottery, probably dating the site to the late Middle Helladic or early Late Helladic period. If, on the other hand, this sherd is not of Aiginetan origin but a plain incised

7. Mountjoy 1994, p. 13. 8. Zerner 1986, pp. 64–66; 1988, p. 5. 9. Touchais 2007, pp. 89–93. 10. Lindblom 2002, p. 32.

a m y c e n a e a n h a b i tat i o n s i t e at k y r a s v r y s i

a

b

21

c

d e Figure 1.6. Pottery from the rescue excavations: (a) sherd with traces of incised decoration; (b) vessel with a row of perforations below the rim; (c) sherds with spiral pattern; (d) upper part of a beaked jug; (e) sherds from vessel with “argonaut” pattern. Scale 1:2

11. McDonald and Wilkie 1992, pp. 64–66, 68–69, 114–116, 121–124, 487–488, 526, figs. 9.7, 3.64, 3.68, 3.80, pls. 3.38–3.40, 3.48. 12. Mountjoy 1981, pp. 17–19, 34–35, 51–52, fig. 3, pl. 1. 13. Mountjoy 1981, p. 52; 1993, p. 58, fig. 106.

coarse-ware fragment, it could still date to between Middle Helladic II and Late Helladic IIIA1, as indicated by parallels from the Nichoria settlement.11 Among the unpainted coarse ware, sherds of three broken vessels were found in situ, all in the same trench, two of them outside the dwelling’s north wall. They were of domestic pottery, and large in size. One of them, preserving a handle on its belly, is most probably a hydria. The other seems to be a hydria as well. The third undecorated vessel, a jar, was found inside the north wall in the area of the burnt soil. The vessel shows signs of intense burning. In this area of the trench other burned sherds were found, including a fragment of an unusual pierced rim, probably from a jar (Fig. 1.6:b). The rim is flattened on top, lacks a distinct lip, and has a horizontal row of four perforations. Similarly pierced rims are uncommon and few parallels exist. Good examples from two wells on the south slope of the Acropolis, although of a burnished ware, are dated to the Late Helladic IIB–IIIA1 period.12 The perforations on the rim of the Acropolis examples are clearer and better shaped than those on the example from Kyras Vrysi, and it is possible that further study will show no other connection. The piercings on the rim might have been used to tie a leather or linen cover over the mouth of the vessel.13 This sherd was found in a Late Helladic stratum. The scarcity of this type during that period, however, suggests

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the possibility of a much earlier, Late Neolithic14 or Middle Helladic date,15 periods when these kinds of perforations in vessels were more common. In that case, this sherd should be considered an intrusion in the stratigraphy of the site. The dominant pattern on the preserved sherds of painted pottery is the spiral, of which several examples were found (Fig. 1.6:c). Pottery with spiral patterns was found also in the area of the Temple of Poseidon. Examples from the Northwest Reservoir, the North Temenos, and the Early Stadium share similarities with this new material. They are all dated from the Late Helladic II to IIIA1 period.16 Four fragments of a beaked jug were found, preserving the neck, mouth, and spout of the vessel (Fig. 1.6:d). The shape of the spout has similarities to Late Helladic IIB examples since it seems to have a straighter, shorter form. However, the jug is decorated in a manner typical of Late Helladic IIIA1 and commonly found on jugs of this type. The decoration of the neck, with plain lines and without elaborate pattern such as the elongated festoons of the Korakou example,17 places it in the Late Helladic IIIA1 period.18 Another pattern encountered on the pottery from the site is perhaps that of a sea creature, possibly an argonaut (Fig. 1.6:e). It is depicted in a standardized form with its tentacles forming spirals, common in the Late Helladic IIB–IIIA1 period.19 In the preceding Late Helladic IIA phase, the argonaut has a much more naturalistic form, while in Late Helladic IIIA2 the naturalism more or less disappears.20 The argonaut-decorated sherds of the Kyras Vrysi excavation all belong to the same vessel, found broken in situ in trench D2, inside the north wall. Since it was found at the same level with the three undecorated vessels mentioned above, this vessel is also dated to the Late Helladic IIB–IIIA1 period. The forms of the accompanying rim, handles, and neck show that the fragments are from a piriform jar.21 In this period the argonaut pattern is most commonly encountered on kraters, beaked jugs, and piriform jars.22 Fragments of kylikes, including decorated bases, are also present in the assemblage. Some examples are painted with two broad bands. These sherds can be dated anywhere between the Late Helladic IIIA1 and IIIA2 period.23 The pottery assemblage from Kyras Vrysi enables us to firmly date our site to the Late Helladic IIB–IIIA1 period. There are indications, though, that an earlier phase existed. A more detailed study of the pottery should clarify the chronology of the site.

otH er F inDs No bones were found in the excavation, but the shells of some common edible marine species were present: scallops, Noah’s Arks, and horn shells. One of the scallops, the biggest shell recovered during excavation, was found between two rocks of the Northeast Wall. Generally, the shells were found sporadically, except for one group that was found in a specific area south of the dwelling as if dumped there after a meal. Four small obsidian blades were also found.

14. Lerna V, pp. 362–363, 366–369. 15. McDonald and Wilkie 1992, p. 53, pl. 3.12:h. 16. Isthmia VIII, pp. 43–44, 50, nos. 29, 31, 32, 35, 37, 38, 40, 42, 43, 61, 62, 63, pls. 4, 5, 8. 17. Blegen 1921, p. 49, fig. 69, pl. V. 18. Mountjoy 1986, pp. 44, 59–60, figs. 47, 67. 19. Mountjoy 1986, pp. 49, 51–53, figs. 38, 57. 20. Mountjoy 1993, pp. 42–44, 48. 21. Balomenou 2013, p. 243, fig. 7. 22. Mountjoy 1986, p. 58. 23. Mountjoy 1993, pp. 63–64, 71–72, figs. 119, 152.

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23

Figure 1.7. Late Bronze age activity in the Corinthia. Drawing F. P. Hemans,

Con C Lu s i on s

24. Hope Simpson 1981, pp. 33–40; Isthmia VIII, pp. 469–479, fig. 15; Tartaron et al. 2006. 25. Isthmia VIII, pp. 469–479, fig. 15. 26. Blegen 1928, pp. 28–38. 27. Blegen 1921, pp. 79–103. 28. Rutter 1979. 29. Kasimi 2013. 30. Mountjoy 1999, p. 198.

After this brief preliminary report, we can now attempt to place the finds from Kyras Vrysi in their wider context. In the Corinthia, Late Helladic activity has been encountered at various sites (Fig. 1.7). Finds typically consist of tombs and sherd scatters, while fortifications and settlements are less common. Some of the sites have not been excavated, and many of the finds derive from surface survey.24 Architectural remains are particularly sparse, with most dating to the Late Mycenaean period.25 Earlier pottery has been found at Zygouries26 and Korakou,27 but without associated buildings; the few structures there are attributed to Late Helladic IIIB and later. In Ancient Corinth, in the area of the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore, traces of a Late Helladic IIIB or IIIC building were unearthed.28 In 2007, a Late Helladic tholos tomb was discovered in Ancient Corinth, redefining the role and place of Corinth and the Corinthia in the Mycenaean period.29 Gonia may represent a Late Helladic settlement belonging to an earlier phase, since the pottery is dated to the Late Helladic I–IIIB periods. None of its pottery can be dated to Late Helladic IIIC.30

courtesy of the University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

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Early Mycenaean material in the Corinthia is well represented at the southern end of the Nemea Valley, close to the Argolid, at Tsoungiza. There, the unearthing of the remains of twin rectangular buildings that were constructed in Late Helladic I provides direct and persuasive evidence of Early Mycenaean habitation and settlement in the area.31 Closer to the Isthmus, at the Diolkos and Schoinous harbor, scattered Late Helladic pottery has been reported, while at Kenchreai and Kalamaki, Late Helladic IIIB pottery has been found. A section of a cyclopean terrace wall in Perdikaria Rachi Boska is probably to be dated to Late Helladic III, while the cyclopean wall south of the Temple of Poseidon contained Late Helladic IIIB material in its fill. Early Mycenaean building remains have not previously been found in the Isthmian region.32 Nonetheless, Early Mycenaean pottery is encountered on the plateau of the Temple of Poseidon, in33 and outside34 the vicinity of the temenos. These sherds were found, however, in a much later context; none of the material was found in situ. Since no Late Bronze Age building remains had been found in the area until now, it was thought that these sherds probably originated from a nearby source, and were transferred here either with soil for construction activity in later historical periods or by some natural process.35 The temple plateau is flanked by two gullies, one to the northwest and one to the northeast. Our habitation site is situated only ca. 300 meters beyond the northwest gully. Thus, there is a good chance that part of the Late Helladic pottery found in the temenos and elsewhere came from this western site. In ending our brief presentation of the excavation of the Kyras Vrysi site, certain concluding remarks can be made. The architectural remains constitute a building that shows signs of domestic occupation. From the associated finds, the building is to be dated to the Late Helladic IIB–IIIA1 period, thus to some extent to the Early Mycenaean period. It is probable that the various parts of the building belong to two separate building phases. Furthermore, preliminary study of the pottery also suggests two different phases. More detailed study of the material will determine whether the architectural and pottery phases overlap and represent continuity in occupation of the site. The site of Kyras Vrysi might be the focal point from which the Late Bronze Age activity on the Isthmian plateau originated. Consequently, this site might be part of a larger settlement, lying in the nearby properties, still to be uncovered.

31. Rutter 1989. 32. Isthmia VIII, pp. 353–354, 474–476; Smith 1955. 33. Isthmia VIII, pp. 177–194. 34. Isthmia VIII, pp. 435–437. 35. Isthmia VIII, pp. 177–180, 431.

c hap ter 2

the Settlement at Kalamianos: Bronz e age Small Wor lds and the Saronic Coast of the Southeastern Corinthia by Thomas F. Tartaron

1. Corinth XX. 2. The Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey was codirected by Timothy E. Gregory and Daniel J. Pullen from 1998 to 2002. The Saronic Harbors Archaeological Research Project is codirected by Pullen and the author. Both are projects of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, operating under permits granted by the Hellenic Ministry of Culture with the support of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Corinth. We are grateful to individuals of all these organizations, and, in the present instance, especially to Konstantinos Kissas and Panayiota Kasimi of the Ephorate of Corinth for their help and support. All illustrations in this chapter are by the author unless otherwise indicated. 3. Rothaus et al. 2003; Tartaron, Rothaus, and Pullen 2003. 4. For reports on the discovery and interpretation of Vayia, an Early Bronze Age harbor settlement in the northern area, see Tartaron, Rothaus, and Pullen 2003; Tartaron, Pullen, and Noller 2006. 5. See Ashley 2001; Rothaus et al. 2003; van de Noort and O’Sullivan 2006. 6. The particular use of springs at Akrotirio Trelli for washing clothing, due to limited water supplies in Korphos village, occurred within living memory and is preserved in local oral tradition (L. Tzortzopoulou-Gregory [pers. comm.]).

In spite of more than 100 years of exploration by Americans in the Corinthia—a century of excavation at Corinth1 and a half century at Isthmia—there are still places in the region that remain relatively unexplored and poorly understood archaeologically. One of these places is the rugged Saronic coast of the far eastern Corinthia (Fig. 2.1). Here, mountainous terrain and inhospitable coastlines have had limited access in modern times until recently, making it appear that the area must always have been peripheral. Nevertheless, systematic exploration that began with the Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey (EKAS) and continues with the Saronic Harbors Archaeological Research Project (SHARP)2 has revealed a rich archaeological record from various periods of the past. In the present study I focus on the Mycenaean era, first reporting some significant new finds, then placing these finds in the wider context of what I shall call a “Saronic small world,” and finally offering some thoughts on the role of the Corinthia’s Saronic coast in the political and economic structure of the Mycenaean world. Within EKAS, a subproject called the Coasts and Harbors Survey utilized GIS software to construct a model for the locations of prehistoric harbors in the Corinthia (Fig. 2.2).3 Using a variety of environmental and cultural variables, the model identified two stretches of Saronic coastline as particularly promising. In both of these places we discovered substantial Bronze Age coastal settlements. I will focus on the southern area, around the modern fishing village of Korphos, with its broad and sheltered harbor (Fig. 2.3).4 There was previously little information on Mycenaean presence in this region, but our current studies are revealing a truly remarkable center of Late Bronze Age activity there. Oddly, at least in view of the modern coastline, our most significant discovery to date took place not at Korphos itself, but rather to the east at a small land’s-end promontory called Akrotirio Trelli. This is not a place where we imagined we would find a harbor, but the model drew us there for other reasons, most notably, a small coastal plain with substantial arable land and a series of coastal wetlands, once extensive but diminishing rapidly today. An underappreciated focus of past human activity,5 wetlands provided a host of usable products, including fish and fowl, mud and clay for mudbricks and pottery, rushes for basketry and roofing, and water for household chores.6

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Corinthian Gulf

New Corinth Korakou





NTHIAN NORTHERN CORI Ancient Corinth

PLAIN





Yiriza  Gonia



Hexamilia



Acrocorinth

 Kromna 

Rachi Boska



Isthmia

(Sanc. of Poseidon)

Saronic Gulf

 Kenchreai

MT. ONEION

TRANS-ONEION ZONE Athikia



SARONIC GULF ZONE



Sophiko



Lakka Skoutara

Korphos 

Figure 2.1. Map of the eastern Corinthia, with locations of prominent sites indicated. the Corinthia’s rugged southeastern region is labeled “saronic Gulf Zone.”

Figure 2.2. Gis-generated probability model for prehistoric harbors on the Corinthia’s saronic coast. Courtesy Richard M. Rothaus, Saronic Harbors Archaeological Research Project

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Figure 2.3. Digital terrain model of the Korphos region

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It was the sloping terrain above Akrotirio Trelli, bearing the local toponym Kalamianos, and not the sheltered bay at Korphos, that witnessed the establishment of a large and bustling Mycenaean harbor town. To our great surprise, the well-preserved stone foundations and walls of a Late Bronze Age urban settlement covered much of the slope, even extending into the sea, indicating a change in relative sea level that has submerged a part of the settlement. SHARP was conceived to investigate Kalamianos within its local and broader Saronic setting during the Bronze Age, adopting a landscape archaeology approach similar to that implemented by EKAS.7 The first phase of three field seasons (2007–2009), comprising architectural mapping and documentation, surface survey at the site and in the surrounding region, geological and geomorphological studies, and anthropological research, is now complete and it is possible to present preliminary findings. Excavation at the site is anticipated in a second phase of SHARP.

tH e a rC H i te C t u raL reMain s

7. Detailed in Tartaron et al. 2006. 8. On processes of collapse, see Loader 1998, pp. 39–41.

Kalamianos is virtually unique among Mycenaean sites in that a combination of tectonic subsidence and erosion has stripped much of the soil from the site, exposing the remains of limestone buildings throughout (Fig. 2.4). Although these buildings have suffered collapse, apparently from a combination of earthquake damage, modern disturbance, and weakening over time,8 the foundations and lower courses of many walls survive, and a painstaking process of documentation has allowed us to slowly reconstruct their plans. Thus, even before excavation, we have the opportunity to recover in great detail the architectural plan of an entire Mycenaean town of more than seven hectares. The first phase of our research was to locate as many of the standing architectural remains as possible, a challenge for two reasons: the site is heavily overgrown and extensive collapse can make it problematic to follow the original lines of the walls. The locations of architectural features were initially recorded using handheld GPS units; these data allowed us

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to generate an inventory of more than 1,000 walls and features,9 but with multidirectional errors of 4 m or more this was more a discovery process than a proper mapping. Subsequently, we generated an accurate plan of the layout and orientation of extant ancient architecture using differential GPS and electronic total station instruments, and certain well-preserved buildings were also selected for stone-by-stone plan drawings (Fig. 2.5). Concurrently, another team documented the architecture in great detail through measurements, photographs, drawings, and narrative descriptions. We believe that together, these documents give a fairly complete picture of the Mycenaean built environment at Kalamianos, with the exception of some smaller buildings that may be irretrievably lost to modern terrace construction and those structures that lie underwater. When combined with a differential GPS survey of the microtopography of the site, completed in 2009, the architectural data demonstrate how the built structures both respected and transformed local topography and other natural features of the hillside. The urban environment of Kalamianos includes both freestanding structures and complexes of associated buildings connected by common walls, narrow alleyways, or courtyards. Their similar orientation and morphology strongly suggest a unified plan. All structures have extensive wall collapse both in their interiors and exteriors. Although we will only know by excavating, we have reason to be optimistic that the collapse has sealed cultural deposits. A program of coring on the site in 2008 revealed variable deposits of up to 0.3 m of sediment beneath the stone-covered surface. Further evidence comes from a stratified road-cut profile exposing a Mycenaean building at the nearby site of Stiri. From above, the building resembles those at Kalamianos: corner stones, wall blocks, and stone collapse are visible on the modern surface. In the section of the building cut by the road, however, one can clearly see that the stones of the exterior face of the wall are placed on bedrock, well below the floor level, while the stones of the interior face are bedded on large stones (Fig. 2.6). There is

Figure 2.4. example of cyclopean masonry technique in the wall of a monumental Mycenaean building at Kalamianos

9. Approximately two-thirds of these belong to the Mycenaean period, and the rest are mainly modern terrace walls. Almost no ancient architectural features other than Mycenaean have been identified to date.

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Figure 2.5. Composite plan of architecture at Kalamianos as of 2009, from differential GPs and electronic total station surveys

10. Loader 1998, pp. 27–31.

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a wall of medium-sized stones beneath the floor, belonging either to an earlier building or used to level the slope. Smaller stones and a layer of pebbles mark the packing for the floor, which appears as a thin band. The red clayey soil matrix above contains abundant sherds from Mycenaean pottery and small rounded pebbles embedded in what is likely collapsed structural elements, either mudbrick or roofing clay or both. This profile suggests that there are similar anthropogenic deposits within many of the rooms at Kalamianos that will one day reward excavation. We are able to confidently assign a date in the Mycenaean palatial period to nearly all of the extant buildings, by virtue of their formal characteristics and artifactual associations. Across the site, a canonical cyclopean masonry technique is used: interior and exterior wall faces of hammerdressed or quarry-face limestone blocks, packed with smaller stones in the interstices, enclose a core containing limestone rubble and earth with variable inclusions of pottery sherds, ground-stone fragments, and shell. This technique corresponds well to Loader’s type III cyclopean masonry, associated with the Argolid and other areas of the Mycenaean heartland in the palatial period.10 But we can be more specific: sherds from Mycenaean fine ware of Late Helladic (LH) IIIA and (mainly) LH IIIB pottery phases were recovered in substantial numbers in the rubble cores of many walls, supplying a terminus post quem for their construction in LH IIIB, that is, the heyday of the palaces in the 13th century b.c. Nevertheless, careful examination revealed multiple construction phases within some buildings, indicating a complex architectural history during the Mycenaean period. We have yet to find a single sherd of LH IIIC type (i.e., belonging to the

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Figure 2.6. View of road-cut section of Building 13-ii at stiri, showing construction sequence and collapse deposit

12th century, after the collapse of the Mycenaean palaces). The absence of post-palatial material persuades us that the fate of Kalamianos was closely tied to that of the palaces. Interestingly, many of the buildings are substantial, and some monumental, while others are more modest in size and architectural elaboration. For example, the most monumental and conspicuous complex is situated at the highest part of the hill (sector 7) and possesses “palatial” features that may indicate an elite residence. These contrasts suggest some form of differentiation, but at present we cannot characterize this differentiation as social, functional, chronological, or some combination thereof. In addition to these buildings, we have identified segments of an eastern and a western enclosure wall, apparently built in separate phases (visible in the northeast and south on Fig. 2.5). The wall does not appear to be of fortification grade, but it may have been more imposing than it seems today if it possessed a mudbrick superstructure. We have been able to trace much of the wall on land, except where parts of it were destroyed by the construction of an adjacent villa in recent years. The southern portion of the wall is now submerged in the sea.

su r FaC e s urVey The results of an intensive pedestrian survey at Kalamianos and in its hinterland underscore the prominence of this region in later prehistory. We began with an on-site survey at Kalamianos. Our method was to superimpose a grid of 25 × 25 m cells as units of data collection and analysis. If, within a given grid cell or even extending into more than one, we encountered four intact walls forming a room or other architectural space, we first gathered data from that space before continuing with the grid survey. Typically, two types of total (100%) collections were made from these architectural units: one from the ground surface within the space defined by the walls,

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Stiri

Saddle

Kalamianos Figure 2.7. Locations of Mycenaean architectural complexes discovered during survey beyond the Kalamianos site. ancient architecture is displayed in black.

11. Runnels 1985; Hartenberger and Runnels 2001. 12. Van Andel and Runnels 1987, pp. 89–91; Kardulias and Runnels 1995, pp. 104–108; Kardulias 2007, pp. 105–111. 13. Parkinson 2007.

and another from inside the rubble cores of the walls themselves. As noted above, the latter collections allowed us to advance a 13th-century date for the Mycenaean structures. The results of on-site survey verify that although LH III material is predominant, Kalamianos is not a single-period site. The most significant non-Mycenaean occupation occurred in the Early Bronze Age, with far smaller components in Roman and Early Modern times. We can establish from the artifacts that Kalamianos was an import node. Near the water’s edge, a concentration of obsidian gradually being exposed by wave action probably marks the in-situ location of a lithics workshop. The obsidian includes cortical flakes and pieces that document the full reduction sequence of raw nodules imported from Melos. Just a few hundred meters inland, we find mainly fragments of finished blades. Clearly, the material was worked on-site and the finished products distributed to inland locations. Only a few such obsidian import and reduction sites are known in the Aegean, including Lerna in the Argolid,11 the Fournoi cluster in the southern Argolid,12 and Romanou in Messenia.13 The obsidian most likely arrived at Kalamianos during the Early Bronze Age, though there is evidence that the inhabitants of the Mycenaean period opportunistically reused pieces from the workshop site. Strewn about all areas of the site are large chunks of Aiginetan andesite, both in raw, unworked form and as finished ground-stone tools. Many of these are found in rooms of Mycenaean houses, where they must have been used to grind grain, spices, and other foods. They are also found in piles on the sea bed offshore, marking the locations where ballast stones were dumped. Moving away from the site itself, we have evidence for a substantial Mycenaean presence throughout the region east of Korphos (Fig. 2.7). In

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a saddle overlooking Kalamianos to the north, we discovered an enclosure consisting of the remains of a robust fortification wall and segments of heavy terrace walls preserved on the north-facing contours overlooking a basin suitable for agricultural fields. These walls are of Mycenaean date, as confirmed by their construction technique as well as the recovery of Mycenaean fine-ware sherds from inside the rubble cores of a few. Within the enclosure, an elliptically shaped structure measuring 15 × 11 m probably belongs to the Early Bronze Age, by comparison with almost 20 other examples we discovered in the survey area. In the uplands above Kalamianos, we found a second Mycenaean architectural complex at Stiri, perched on top of a sea cliff. Mycenaean Stiri is only one-fifth the size of Kalamianos, but its construction techniques and date are virtually the same. Stiri has panoramic views of the Saronic Gulf extending from Athens and Salamis to Aigina, Methana, and the shores of the northeastern Argolid. To the west of the settlement, several well-watered basins provided opportunities for agricultural and pastoral exploitation. Stiri may have supplied agricultural products to the harbor site and monitored traffic by sea. The busy Mycenaean countryside around Korphos that our survey has revealed seems to have been intimately tied to Kalamianos, chronologically and functionally.

tH e GeoMorP H iC anD enV iron M en taL se t t inG A real puzzle surrounding Kalamianos is why the major Mycenaean harbor should not have been located at the wide bay of modern Korphos, where no significant Mycenaean antiquities are reported and none were discovered in our survey. We do not yet have a definitive answer, but we do know that in the Bronze Age the configuration of the coastline at Kalamianos was very different from that of today. EKAS investigators identified several beachrock deposits in the shallows off Kalamianos, one of which was cemented with countless Mycenaean sherds several meters below sea level.14 Presuming this was in fact a beach during the Mycenaean occupation at Kalamianos, the outlines of the coast can be extended seaward 100 m or more. The preliminary results of a program of marine geophysical survey and exploratory dives in 2009 confirm the beachrock findings and provide the first glimpse at a Bronze Age coastline with two basins where ships could find anchorage.15 Geological cores taken in the wetland bordering Korphos village indicate possibly five major episodes of subsidence in the Holocene,16 but the chronology of these events is not sufficiently constrained to place such an event in Late Mycenaean times. Until these sequences are worked out we can only speculate, but if wave-cut notches, foraminifera, and beachrock deposits can be correlated with a tectonic (coseismic) event in Late Mycenaean times or later, it is possible that the modern bay at Korphos did not exist in the Late Bronze Age, but instead was occupied by a wetland similar to that of which remnants survive today west of the village. In the future, we hope to extend the underwater program to explore the submerged offshore terrain for archaeological remains. It is worthy of note that at Kalamianos the coastal shelf is narrow: within 125 m

14. Rothaus et al. 2003, p. 45; Tartaron, Rothaus, and Pullen 2003, pp. 34–35. 15. Reported in Tartaron et al. 2011. Investigations of the underwater areas of Kalamianos and the Korphos Bay region were undertaken as a joint Greek-Canadian project, under the direction of Despina Koutsoumba of the Ephorate of Underwater Antiquities and Joseph Boyce of McMaster University, representing the Canadian Institute in Greece. This project is independent of, but in close cooperation with, SHARP. 16. Nixon, Reinhardt, and Rothaus 2009.

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of the modern shoreline, the depth of the sea floor is 50 m or more; 250 m from the shore the depth exceeds 100 m. This feature is known to local fishermen as “the chasm,” and is well known as a productive fishing ground. Thus, a reconstructed Bronze Age coastline appears to indicate that Kalamianos offered both bountiful fishing and a deep-water approach for ships. A second conundrum is that the highly eroded and irregular karstic surface of the site cannot have been the living surface of the Mycenaean settlement. Much of the modern surface is a skeleton of exposed bedrock in step-like “risers” and “treads,” with highly localized pockets of preserved sediment trapped by natural cavities, ancient walls, and modern built terraces. Working back to Mycenaean ground level is problematic because the sediment is gone, but a geomorphological study led by Richard Dunn used various proxy measures to arrive at some initial hypotheses.17 One of these involved the inspection of limestone erosional features known as karren, including rillenkarren, or vertical solution channels that form on limestone through the chemical action of acidic rainfall.18 The development of the solution channels (length, width, and depth) provides a relative measure of the length of time that the stone has been exposed on the surface in a particular orientation, but the challenge is to calculate the rate of rillenkarren development and thus the length of exposure. An analysis of rillenkarren development in 2007 was inconclusive because the pattern is highly variable across the site, suggesting that the foundations of the Mycenaean buildings were exposed at various times. Yet a striking contrast between modern terrace walls,19 which show no rillenkarren whatsoever, and many of the Mycenaean architectural blocks that exhibit well-developed rillenkarren, indicates the relatively long exposure of the latter. More pertinent to the issue of ground level, in a few cases rillenkarren are present down to a specific horizontal course, below which the foundation stones show no rillenkarren development. This may indicate that the original burial of the foundation, and thus the ground level, lay at this interface. In at least one case, a horizontal band of calcium carbonate encrustation adhered to the base of the lowest course bearing rillenkarren, possibly representing mineral precipitation where soil was once in contact with the wall. Further, at that same location, pockets of red sediment are preserved in the foundation course only below the interface. Based on this small number of cases, Dunn hypothesized an average loss of between 35 and 70 cm of earth from the Mycenaean surface, with two caveats that must again be emphasized: (1) erosion and deposition are highly variable across the site, so one cannot simply “drape” 35–70 cm of earth across the modern surface; and (2) the timing of these processes is not well constrained and there may in fact have been numerous cycles of erosion and deposition. Thus, the surface has been dynamic over time, resisting simple reconstructions of the Mycenaean ground level. 17. Dunn 2007. 18. Ford and Williams 1989, pp. 374–396, table 9.1; Mottershead and Lucas 2001. For an application of karren features to reconstructing the limestone architecture of Vayia, the Early Bronze Age site north of Kala-

mianos, see Tartaron, Pullen, and Noller 2006. 19. Information from local informants indicates that these terrace walls were built in the mid-20th century (L. Tzortzopoulou-Gregory [pers. comm.]).

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Figure 2.8. a solution-enlarged joint (“fissure”) giving access to fresh groundwater at Kalamianos

If a reasonable geomorphic scenario for Kalamianos involves the movement—and consequent loss—of sediment downslope by various mechanisms, it is perplexing that similarly exposed complexes of Mycenaean architecture at Stiri and in the saddle north of Kalamianos occur in settings not directly controlled by slope. A priority of our ongoing geomorphological research will be to examine these and other exposures for clues as to why the Korphos region is so unusual in the wealth of Mycenaean architecture exposed on the modern surface. One mystery that is closer to solution is the source of the community’s drinking water at this relatively arid location. Crossing the site on a roughly east–west orientation is a series of solution-enlarged joints in the limestone through which water flows from the surrounding slopes to the sea (Fig. 2.8). The openings of these joints are typically narrow—a meter or less—but may be many meters in depth. Since 2001 we have observed that even in summer they may hold several meters of water. We found the water to be potable—fresh and sweet, not at all salty or brackish. Samples of this water stored in plastic bottles showed no sign of microbial formation after several weeks, and a chemical analysis by ICP-MS revealed that the levels of all major inorganic elements fall safely within Environmental Protection Agency standards for drinking water in the United States.20 Mycenaean buildings were placed near many of the joints, but never impinge upon them. We believe that the Mycenaean community used these like wells to supply most or all of their needs for fresh water.

20. This analysis was performed by Richard Dunn at Norwich University and reported in Dunn 2007.

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Figure 2.9. Map of the saronic Gulf and surrounding regions, with significant Bronze age sites identified.

KaLaMianos anD tHe saroniC BronZe aGe “sMaLL worLD”

21. Broodbank 2000, pp. 175–211; Sherratt and Sherratt 1998. See also the “microregions” in Horden and Purcell 2000, pp. 77–87, 123–152. 22. Niemeier 1995; Rutter 2001, pp. 124–130. 23. Gauss 2006. 24. Alt-Ägina IV.3. 25. There are also many small inlets among the vertical sea cliffs, which obviously have limited potential for human exploitation.

In the broader picture, I propose that Kalamianos was part of a Saronic Bronze Age “small world,” a group of communities bound together by intensive, habitual interactions, either because of geography, traditional kinship ties or alliances, or for a host of other reasons.21 In small worlds there may be a high level of interdependence, and communities may come to think of themselves as forming a kind of natural entity. These small worlds are in turn inscribed within larger regional and interregional networks. It is widely accepted that Kolonna on the Saronic island of Aigina was the most prominent non-Minoan site of the Aegean in the Early and Middle Bronze Age.22 This community maintained early and substantial contacts with the Minoan world.23 Its rich shaft grave comparable in form and content to those at Mycenae, but predating them, is often thought to indicate Kolonna’s role in facilitating Mycenae’s access to the Minoan influences that are so conspicuous in the Shaft Graves.24 The notion of a Saronic small world of settlements orbiting around Aigina in the Bronze Age can be supported by geographic, topographic, phenomenological, and archaeological evidence (Fig. 2.9). The rugged Saronic coastline contains few large, natural harbors (the coast around Troizen is the main exception), but is punctuated by numerous tiny coastal plains with inlets suitable for small-vessel anchorage.25 Typically, these small coastal spaces are backed by rough, mountainous terrain; Kalamianos is a good example of a settlement in this type of setting. With limited arable land and other resources, and possibly irregular access to inland sources of

Tartaron et al. 2011, fig. 1

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supply, such small communities must have looked to the sea. With easier communication by sea than land, voyaging within the Saronic was a means to sustain small communities through networks of social and economic interdependence, precisely the kind of “connectivity” described by Horden and Purcell.26 Because the land masses of Attica and the Argolid partially enclose the Saronic Gulf, its waters are sheltered and calmer than the open Aegean. Year-round voyaging would have been possible, serving to cement the close ties of the Saronic coastal communities. From a phenomenological perspective, the Saronic never gives the impression of a vast, open sea (Fig. 2.10). Land is virtually always in sight, and each coastal settlement was in visual contact with several others. At coastal settlements like Kalamianos, views to the interior were blocked by steep hills, fixing the constant frame of visual reference instead on the sea, and particularly on Aigina, which loomed on the horizon from most coastal vantage points. This visual connection must have reinforced the sense of a natural Saronic world, with Aigina as its geographical, as well as cultural, political, and economic, center. The Saronic small world was in turn embedded in larger worlds, as a crossroads, a natural entry point from the Aegean islands and Crete, and a place of overlapping spheres of exchange and other interactions. One of SHARP’s aims is to better understand the changes the inhabitants of this small world experienced as Mycenae’s influence expanded and ultimately eclipsed that of Aigina in the Saronic region. With archaeological evidence we may set the scene for this confrontation.27 Middle and early Late Helladic levels at Kolonna have produced Cycladic, Minoan, and locally made Minoanizing pottery in both settlement and burial contexts. But Mycenaean LH I style is rare at Kolonna and at the circum-Saronic settlements that relied on Aigina for imported

Figure 2.10. View of the saronic Gulf from above the site at Kalamianos, showing the prominent islands and headlands that dominate the horizon

26. Horden and Purcell 2000, pp. 391–395. 27. For a fuller theoretical argument that portrays the Corinthia as a contested periphery between Mycenae and Kolonna and uses data from EKAS, see Pullen and Tartaron 2007.

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28. Rutter 1993, pp. 82–85, table 1. 29. Maran 1992, pp. 204–211. 30. Lindblom 2001, p. 41; Zerner 1993, p. 55. 31. Siennicka 2002. 32. Pullen and Tartaron 2007.

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pottery throughout the Middle Bronze Age and Early Mycenaean period. We find a similar pattern of rare LH I style and common Aiginetan in Attica and at certain sites in the Corinthia. Therefore, in early Mycenaean times, Kolonna, not Mycenae, was the economic and political power of the Saronic region. Late Helladic II initiated a transitional period when Mycenaean pottery of palatial and pseudo-Minoan type found its place at Aigina, Kiapha Thiti, and Athens by LH IIA. At that same time, however, Aiginetan imports still made up 10% of the corpus at Tsoungiza,28 and 20% at Kiapha Thiti.29 Kolonna’s export industry did not decline until LH IIIA2, coinciding with the establishment of the palace at Mycenae. By that time, Mycenaean fine ware and utilitarian vessels had superseded most Aiginetan shapes. It is reasonable to assume that this shift in production and consumption reflects in part the appropriation of the export market by Mycenaeans from the Argolid centers. Still, exports of Aiginetan storage and cooking vessels continued into LH IIIC, mainly because of superior qualities such as permeability and thermal shock resistance.30 Thus, ceramic evidence points to the period encompassing phases LH II to LH IIIA as the crucial time of competition between Kolonna and Mycenae. A striking change is that the number of known sites in the Saronic Gulf, when corrected for phase durations, almost doubles in Late Mycenaean times.31 How, then, might we characterize the nature of this transformation? Was there a violent clash between a great land and a great sea power, a peaceful political and economic evolution, or something else? Few answers are forthcoming from the two sites themselves, as these phases at Mycenae and Kolonna are poorly understood. Instead, such a process of competitive interaction should best be reflected in archaeologically visible changes in frontier zones where the two spheres of influence intersected. Our hypothesis is that the Saronic coast of the Corinthia was a political periphery between two powers of the Early Mycenaean period: one venerable and one emergent.32 If so, Kalamianos, occupying a liminal position at the edge of land and sea roughly midway between Kolonna and Mycenae, is an ideal testing ground. The extensive architectural remains are convincingly associated with an urban center of mature palatial times, but artifacts recovered in on-site survey indicate occupation, albeit at the scale of a small village, during the Early Mycenaean period predating the emergence of the state at Mycenae. Our current state of knowledge suggests that Kalamianos was a minor settlement in Kolonna’s orbit during the Middle and early Late Bronze Age. Sometime in the late 14th century, at a time when Mycenae had already effectively absorbed the Saronic Gulf into its sphere of influence, a prominent harbor and settlement was founded at Kalamianos, and the hinterland behind it was developed to provide agricultural goods and to monitor the Saronic Gulf. The harbor must have served as a vital node in Mycenae’s economic network in the 13th century and a material manifestation of its expanding influence. The construction of such a substantial settlement using monumental masonry must have served symbolic as well as practical ends. It is tempting to envision the foundation of a monumentalized harbor town in plain view of Kolonna as a symbolic statement

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of a changing of the guard in the Saronic. It is important to remember, however, that by 1300 b.c. Kolonna was no longer a powerful polity or a potential threat to Mycenae; thus, the strength that Kalamianos projected must have been a more generalized display of power intended to impress all travelers on the Saronic.

sH ar P a nD tH e arCH ae oLo G y oF t H e Co rint H ia With the initial phase of SHARP now complete, we have been able to advance a number of hypotheses concerning the settlement at Kalamianos and its role in the wider historical currents of the Aegean Bronze Age. With study of the material ongoing and anticipated excavations, we will surely have reason to formulate new hypotheses and discard others, possibly even entire scenarios such as those outlined above. There is a thread of continuity with EKAS, not only in the discovery of Kalamianos, but also as pertains to the effective expansion of Mycenae’s influence. Contrary to common assumptions, we perceive little direct presence of Mycenae in the northern Corinthia,33 whereas in our estimation Mycenae’s presence was intensive and pervasive in the Saronic region, if only for a century or two. By addressing these questions across projects and over a broad swath of territory, we would like to think that SHARP continues a long and fruitful tradition of American archaeological research in the Corinthia. Our work explicitly responds to Rutter’s call for renewed fieldwork to tackle unresolved problems concerning the second millennium b.c. in this part of the mainland.34 The contribution of the University of Chicago’s excavations at Isthmia to this cause has been exemplary: Morgan’s exhaustive treatment of Late Bronze Age and Early Iron Age evidence from the sanctuary ranges well beyond Isthmia to provide a penetrating analysis of later second millennium activity throughout the Corinthia.35 SHARP was conceived as a problem-oriented research program that builds upon the American tradition with new approaches and an international complexion, bringing together colleagues and students from many countries in our quest to bring a Mycenaean Saronic world to life.

33. Pullen and Tartaron 2007; Tartaron 2010. 34. Rutter 2003. 35. Isthmia VIII.

c hap ter 3

th e a r c h ai c te m p l e of Pos e i d on : P r ob l e m s of d e s i gn a n d i nv e n t i on by Frederick P. Hemans

In the first half of the 7th century b.c. the Corinthians built a hekatompedon for Poseidon on the Isthmus.1 Its impressive 100-foot-long walls were adorned with pilasters, covered with white plaster, and surrounded by a broad portico. Particularly elaborate was the fired-clay roof, which held a decorative pattern at the eaves. 2 If there were any doubt about the intention to create a temple that would be seen as truly monumental it is dispelled by the remainder of the composition. East of the temple the altar was also made 100 feet long, and a broad terrace extending to the northern and eastern edges of the enclosed temenos provided space where large crowds of worshippers could gather (Fig. 3.1).3 Poseidon’s new temple was the focal point of the sea-girt ridge (Pind. Isthm. 1.9). It would have been a landmark, visible from a great distance to travelers coming by land from the north or by sea through the Saronic Gulf as they approached Corinthian territory. The temple is one of two constructed by the Corinthians that introduced several innovations during an era when there were few precedents in Greece for creating a monumental building. Their walls employed ashlar, isodomic masonry, and the roof tiles mark the starting point for the development of both the Laconian and Corinthian systems of roofing. The earlier temple, found on Temple Hill in Corinth, has been dated ca. 680 b.c.,4 and the Temple of Poseidon, whose construction began in the period 690–650, appears to have followed soon after. But there is no trace of the plan of the temple in Corinth and remains from the walls and roof are very 1. The material presented here is part of an ongoing study and I am grateful to Elizabeth Gebhard for her encouragement and support. I also thank Jean Perras for her work in managing the affairs of the Isthmia excavation, and colleagues who have shared their work and advice, particularly Virginia Anderson-Stojanović, John Hayes, Alastar Jackson, and Martha Risser. Numerous students from Wichita State University and the University of Chicago have assisted over the years: in particular I wish to thank

Jonathan Stevens, Bruce King, Ilse Müller, and Richard Rinaolo, who were most closely involved in the work on the blocks and tiles. I am indebted to J. J. Coulton, who chaired the session at the conference in Athens and subsequently reviewed a preliminary draft of the manuscript. All illustrations are courtesy of the University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia; images are by the author unless otherwise indicated. All dates are b.c. unless otherwise noted. 2. Broneer’s publication of the tem-

ple is Isthmia I, pp. 3–56. Preliminary results of excavations carried out in 1989 are described in Gebhard and Hemans 1992, pp. 25–40. Studies of the roof tiles and construction techniques are found in Rostoker and Gebhard 1981; Rhodes 1984; Hemans 1989; and Gebhard 2001. 3. Figure 3.1 also shows the Early Stadium and East Propylon, which were added in the 6th century. 4. Robinson 1984, p. 57; Salmon 1984, p. 60, n. 18. The date is a terminus post quem.

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few.5 At Isthmia, floors and construction deposits have survived along with the position of most of the walls. Data from ca. 1,200 fragments of wall blocks and over 16,000 roof tiles make it possible to reconstruct most of its features. The Corinthian invention of fired-clay roof tiles and methods for making use of ashlar masonry as a building material can be seen as forerunners for subsequent techniques of stoneworking and roofing, but this chapter focuses on placing the technical development of these features in the context of the initial construction of the temple. Study of the tiles shows how a highly efficient method of manufacturing grew from mudbrick making and how a support system with massive framing developed from traditional methods of roof construction. Creating the ashlar masonry was similarly efficient. Blocks were cut to standard dimensions and placed in horizontal courses with a minimum of fitting and trimming. To make this possible, the techniques of anathyrosis were adapted from woodworking. Another impetus for developing efficient building processes was that the temple was located 10 kilometers from the city center. The move toward employing standard-sized components in the design minimized the amount of work done on-site and assisted the architect in his coordination of the manufacturing, transport, erection, and finishing of the temple using different groups of workmen with diverse skills. These newly adapted materials had both functional and aesthetic purposes. The roof, both durable and decorative for its time, was coordinated with the spacing of the columns and pilasters. By using a repeating pattern and coordinating the relationships between the parts of the building, the architect made use of a design principle that enhanced the monumental appearance of the building. The use of ashlar isodomic masonry, extending the full height of the wall, was very likely a response to the enormous weight of the roof. The masonry remained hidden behind a coat of plaster but provided an unprecedented degree of strength to the temple. 5. The characteristics of the masonry and roof tiles are so similar that the same generation of craftsmen was almost certainly responsible for both temples. The excavations were published in Weinberg 1939; Roebuck 1955; and Robinson 1976. Studies of the roof tiles

are in Robinson 1984, 1986, and Roebuck 1955, 1990. The techniques of stoneworking and a reconstruction of the temple are in preliminary reports by Rhodes (1987a, 1987b, 1987c, 2003). A similar type of roof tile identifies two other Corinthian buildings at Perachora

Figure 3.1. restored view of the archaic temple of Poseidon from the southeast, ca. 500 b.c. P. Sanders

and Delphi, but recent studies of the stonework associated with these tiles would place them in the second half of the 7th century at the earliest. See Bommelaer 1991, pp. 153–155; Menadier 1995, pp. 72–73; Pfaff 2003, pp. 105– 106, 120–121; Rhodes 2003, p. 93.

the archaic temple of poseidon

Figure 3.2. actual-state plan of the archaic temple, 1989

6. Isthmia I, pp. 3–56. 7. See Rhodes 1984, pp. 44–60, and Barletta 2001, pp. 36–38, 49–51, where she presents a summary of critiques by several scholars. 8. Proposals for a nonperipteral temple also discount the existence of setting lines for the placement of columns that are found on some of the stylobate blocks; see Isthmia I, pp. 13– 15 (Group 1). On block nos. Ar 1 (IA 1385), Ar 3 (IA 1386), Ar 7 (IA 1387), and Ar 10 (IA 1628) a setting line, perpendicular to the face, is visible on the upper surface, and on all but no. Ar 7 the line continues down one face of the block. 9. For the date of the destruction, see Risser, Chapter 5 in this volume. 10. Isthmia V, p. 142. 11. The excavation and interpretation of the in-situ remains are described in Isthmia I, pp. 3–9; Gebhard and Hemans 1992, pp. 25–38. 12. Isthmia I, p. 10.

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tH e P Lan oF t H e a rC H aiC t eMP Le Broneer, who excavated the temple from 1952–1967, published a description of the remains in situ, catalogued a select group of the blocks and tiles, and presented a reconstruction of the building in the Doric order.6 The lack of evidence for the Doric reconstruction led several scholars to propose alternatives, some of which omit a colonnade entirely.7 Additional evidence for the overall dimensions and configuration of a peristyle temple were established by new excavations in 1989.8 The walls and stylobates of the temple were removed in three episodes: the first followed the fire that destroyed the building between ca. 460 and 450 b.c.9 when the Classical Temple was built on the same site; the second during rebuilding of the Classical Temple following another fire in 390 b.c.; and the third occurred when the building was quarried to provide material for the Hexamilion wall, in the early years of the 5th century a.d.10 After the blocks were taken away, their former positions were filled with a mixture of earth and burned debris that was easily distinguished during excavation. From these remains much of the temple’s plan can be traced, although it should be borne in mind that the dimensions they provide do not allow as much accuracy as a building with its stones in place.11 Figure 3.2 shows the fills with cross-hatching as part of the restored plan of the building, which is shown in dashed lines. Also shown is the lighter outline of the much larger Classical Temple that replaced it. From this illustration the gaps in the plan can be readily understood. Wherever the foundations for the new building were created the remains of the earlier building were obliterated. The width of the cella was ca. 7.76 m wide, but the eastern end is not preserved and thus the length cannot be measured directly. Broneer restored it as a hekatompedon, 100 Doric feet long.12 His hypothesis is now supported by the discovery in 1989 of the robbed-out foundations for pilasters that were built against the outside faces of the cella walls. The positions for 10 were found directly against the south cella wall, spaced at an average

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interaxial distance of ca. 2.26 m (numbered 1–10 on Fig. 3.2). Since the preserved remains show that the cella was at least ca. 30.30 m long and not more than ca. 32.80 m, we have restored a total of 15 pilasters, which would make the wall approximately 32.00 meters long, quite close to 100 feet13 (14 interaxial distances of 2.26 m plus the width of a pilaster14 of 0.34 m = 31.98 m). Substantial traces that show where the stylobate blocks once stood are found on three sides of the building. The full east–west length is preserved, and the width can be calculated by doubling the preserved dimension from the line of postholes at the center of the cella to the outside of the north stylobate. These remains show that the stylobates were ca. 39.25 m long and 14.21–14.28 m wide, measured to the outside edges.15 Eighteen columns have been restored to the flanks of the building, based in part on the coordination of the position of the stylobate and the spacing of the cella pilasters. Seventeen interaxial distances of 2.26 m plus the width of a stylobate block (0.82 m) equals ca. 39.24 m. Restoring seven columns to the ends of the building results in an interaxial dimension of ca. 2.23–2.24 m. The regularity of the design, in which the spacing of the columns is coordinated with other components of the building, describes a standardized set of dimensions which are discussed below.

tH e Ma sonry The fire that destroyed the temple was intense and most of the stone blocks were damaged.16 Nevertheless, the blocks are so numerous that the features of the walls and stylobates can be reconstructed.17 More than 300 can be put into categories and it is unlikely that any types are missing.18 The walls were composed of ashlar, isodomic masonry, meaning that the rectangular blocks were sized to the full width of the wall and the courses were of equal height. Blocks from the walls of the cella were ca. 0.55 m wide, ca. 0.27 m high, and varied from 0.75–0.90 m in length. The north and south (outer) walls of the pronoas were wider, ca. 0.65 m. On the outside of the long walls of the cella and pronaos, pilasters, ca. 0.34 m wide, were built ca. 2.26 m apart. As mentioned above, the foundations for 10 pilasters have been located and it is clear from the con13. The Doric (or Peloponnesian) foot was computed by Broneer to be 0.3204 m based on measurements from Greek stadia; see Isthmia I, pp. 174– 177. Dinsmoor (1950, p. 54, n. 4) calculates a Doric foot to be 0.3265 m. 14. Vertical bands of unburned stone on the faces of the wall blocks show that the pilasters were ca. 0.34 m wide. 15. The north–south dimensions of the temple and cella (described in Isthmia I, p. 54, as 14.018 m and 7.418 m,

respectively, and in Gebhard and Hemans 1992, p. 34, as 14.10–14.40 m and 7.90 m, respectively) have been revised based on the interpretation that a block from the lowest course of masonry in the north pronaos wall is in situ. 16. See Robinson 1976, p. 225, for the results of laboratory tests on the burned stone at Corinth. 17. More than 1,200 fragments have been recovered. These were found in the fill beneath the floor of its successor

and on the periphery of the temenos, some in a road bed along the north side of the area and others in a terrace constructed east of the long altar (Gebhard and Hemans 1998, pp. 11–12). 18. The blocks have been reexamined as part of this study, including new measurements, descriptions, and drawings. The full results will appear in the final publication. See also Gebhard 2001, for a discussion of the masonry techniques in their historical context.

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Figure 3.3 (above). a segment of the cella wall reconstructed by Broneer. Visible on the left and right are vertical bands where the wall surface was protected from the fire by pilasters. Figure 3.4 (right). Detail view of the wall surface showing the condition of the blocks behind the pilasters to the right, and, to the left, preserved plaster over the roughened wall surface

dition of the blocks that they were built on the outside of both the north and south cella and pronaos walls. These pilasters protected a portion of the wall face from the effects of the fire, producing vertical bands found on many of the wall blocks (Figs. 3.3, 3.4). Figure 3.3 shows a small section of reconstructed wall with vertical bands on each side. Between the bands,

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Figure 3.5. a group of construction chips from posthole n6. Scale 1:2

the face of the wall shows the fire-damaged condition of the blocks that were unprotected.19 The walls were covered with plaster from floor to ceiling. Where the pilasters protected the surface from the fire, the stone is chiseled to a fairly even face, but between the pilasters the surface was roughened to provide a better hold for the plaster. Figure 3.4 shows the vertical line where stone was removed at the edge of the pilaster, and to the left some of the plaster still adhering to the blocks. Although there is little variation in the height of each course of blocks and the edges of each stone were carefully fitted, it was not intended that the masonry would be visible. The process of erecting the walls, followed by the addition of pilasters, then roughening the surface and applying a finishing coat of plaster, demonstrates that the face of the wall was not dressed after the blocks were laid.20 This is confirmed by debris found in the construction deposits.21 Almost all the working chips have surfaces like those on finished blocks (Fig. 3.5). Examples with the marks from an adze come from the ends of blocks, and many, showing two worked faces meeting at right angles, are from the corners of finished blocks. These fragments could not have resulted from dressing the wall after it was erected or from an earlier stage of cutting blocks to squared dimensions. They are the result either of shortening a finished block (e.g., to finish a row) or of cutting into a portion of a finished block as it was installed (e.g., to create a slot for the ceiling timbers). The evidence indicates that the blocks were cut to their final dimensions before installation, and that there was a minimal amount of trimming while they were being set in the wall. 19. Broneer’s excavations did not uncover the pilaster foundations and he reconstructed the vertical bands as a thick coat of stucco rather than as pilasters, but there is no plaster preserved here, only between the pilasters. In addition, the use of foundations points toward a more substantial construction, probably of mudbrick. Based on the size of the bands found on blocks from the corners of the walls, the pilasters would

have been 7–15 cm deep; see Isthmia I, pp. 26, 35, nos. Ar 41 (IA 836), Ar 42 (IA 1579). We also note here that we restore the painted decoration found on several fragments of limestone to the inside walls of the pronaos rather than to the outside walls, as in Broneer’s reconstruction; see Isthmia I, p. 35, pl. 11:c, d. Robinson (1976, p. 228) places the painted fragments of limestone found at Corinth on the inside of

the cella walls. 20. The techniques of dressing blocks can be found in Dinsmoor 1950, pp. 173–176; Martin 1965, pp. 190– 200; Coulton 1977, p. 49. 21. Gebhard and Hemans 1992, pp. 34–39. Construction deposits are found in situ below floor deposits that are located between the stylobate trenches and the cella.

the archaic temple of poseidon

Figure 3.6 (left). Bottom of a typical wall block, ia 3202. note the anathyrosis along the rope channel at the bottom of the photograph. Scale 1:10. Photo M. Bootsman

Figure 3.7 (right). a construction chip showing the condition of the edge prior to finishing for installation. Scale 1:2

22. The poor preservation of many blocks often makes anathyrosis difficult to notice on the ends of blocks that do not have the rope channels. For published examples that are well preserved and clearly show the removal of the center of the block on both ends, see Isthmia I, pp. 15–16, nos. Ar. 16 (IA 1555), Ar 20 (IA 1573), figs. 7, 10. 23. See Martin 1965, p. 197, fig. 81, where both types are shown in a section drawing of a vertical joint. Band anathyrosis on horizontal joints is comparatively rare in later construction, but there are examples in the Corinthia; see Menadier 1995, pp. 13–16; Pfaff 2003, pp. 105–106. 24. Coulton 1977, pp. 32, 46–47. 25. Gebhard 2001, pp. 41, 46, 61.

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se t t in G tH e Mas on ry Anathyrosis at Isthmia was normally employed on the bottom (Fig. 3.6) and ends of each block.22 The edges were cut at a bevel (or cant) so that the blocks would only come into contact along a narrow edge. As each block was set, the beveled edge was trimmed and smoothed to create a good fit with the adjacent block. Figure 3.7 shows the condition of an edge prior to installation. The front face of this fragment, which was found in the construction debris, shows a flat chiseled surface, and the corner has not yet been made straight or smoothed. By comparison, blocks from the wall (Fig. 3.6, bottom) show the smoothed beveled surface of the edge anathyrosis. The technique differs from the type of anathyrosis used in later Greek masonry where the amount of contact between blocks is much greater, across a broad band, and is usually employed only on vertical joints.23 Coulton describes this form of edge anathyrosis as a natural transition between premonumental methods and band anathyrosis.24 Apparently an earlier technique of building a two-skinned wall, in which the stones on each face were tightly fitted but did not run through the wall, was adapted to this early form of true ashlar masonry, in which blocks extended the full width of the wall. For two-skinned walls Gebhard cites examples in Greece as well as the Near East, but suggests that the adaptation of a single-skinned wall was a Corinthian invention.25 Broneer showed how edge anathyrosis was used in combination with a pair of channels cut into the bottom and up one side of each block that secured ropes used in lifting them onto the wall. The channels were carved approximately the same distance from the two faces to balance the weight of the block as it was being lifted, but the position of the cuttings varies by a few centimeters from block to block and appears to have been done by eye rather than measurement. Carving was done roughly, using an adze, to create a V-shaped channel that is typically ca. 4 cm wide and 2–3 cm deep. Figure 3.6 shows the channels at the inner edge of the anathyrosis, adjacent to the roughly cut center where a large portion of the block face was cut away to avoid contact with the block beneath it.

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Figure 3.8. reconstructed view of a block being lifted into position with its fit being adjusted while suspended from a hoist

The channels allowed the blocks to be hoisted directly to their intended position and the ropes to be extracted after the block was fitted to those already in place.26 The system of rope channels would also have made it possible to trim small amounts while the blocks were suspended from the hoist (Fig. 3.8). Each block could have been placed, the fit checked, and lifted again (or repeatedly) to make adjustments by removing small amounts on the edges. When the masons were satisfied with the fit, the block was set and the ropes removed. Perhaps more importantly, anathyrosis on the bottoms of the blocks made it possible to install them horizontally and avoid the need to dress the entire length of each course of stone after it was completed. Occasionally the upper surface of a stone shows additional trimming, but the masonry was never intended to be seen and it is clear the system was designed to erect the wall quickly rather than to create a smooth wall face with precise joins. The standard block for the long walls of the cella weighed ca. 225 kg, and the wider blocks used for the pronaos walls were ca. 265 kg.27 The largest blocks used in the temple weighed 350–400 kg, but even the smallest of these blocks is too heavy to be easily maneuvered by hand. Despite the clarity of the system for setting the blocks by means of a hoist, objections have been made to Broneer’s interpretation of the channels. Rhodes proposed that they were carved for turning, dragging, or otherwise handling them in the quarry, rather than lifting the blocks during

26. Isthmia I, p. 13, pl. 9:d. For Corinth, see Robinson 1976, p. 227. 27. The weight of the stone in the examples we have measured varies from 1.75 to 1.90 g/cm3.

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construction.28 He questions whether the channels are deep enough to accommodate ropes of sufficient size to lift the blocks and still provide enough space to extract the ropes after the block was set in place, and notes that many of the channels at Corinth could not have accommodated ropes greater than 0.007–0.015 m in diameter.29 An estimate of the size of rope that would have been required to lift the blocks might help answer some of these objections. Although we do not know what type of fiber was used or how advanced their techniques of rope making were, a 0.01 m natural fiber sisal rope has a break strength of ca. 400 kg.30 Two ropes, used in the pair of channels, would have a break strength of ca. 800 kg, equal to twice the weight of our largest blocks. If the Greek rope was more like a twine, and not twisted, the strength would have been somewhat greater because twisting weakens the fibers. We should also take into account the additional depth that is supplied by the beveling at the edge of the block. While there are a very few examples of blocks that would not have accommodated a 0.01 m rope, these are rare among the hundreds of blocks. Almost all could have accommodated ropes of a larger size. The rare examples are more likely an indication that the block was trimmed during installation, and other means, such as levers, may have been employed in addition to the hoist to maneuver them to their final position after the trimming. Seven block fragments at Isthmia have a system of U-shaped channels that is often employed in later eras for lifting blocks with a hoist.31 Unlike the typical channels where two ropes traveled across the bottom of the block and up each end, the U-shaped channels were cut so that separate ropes could be used at each end of the block.32 These blocks employed a pair of vertical channels on their ends that connect in a U-shape on the bottom, allowing a rope to be held in place at one end of the stone. Occasionally a pair of ropes are used at each end, with four channels carved on each end of the block (Fig. 3.9).33 The round portion of the channel, on the bottom of the blocks, is carved with a lip to secure the rope. While the use of cranes/hoists is undocumented in other buildings of this era, the U-shaped 28. Rhodes 1987c. Roebuck (1955, p. 156) also suggested that the rope channels might have been made to maneuver stones at the quarry. 29. Rhodes (1987c, p. 549) cites measurements of examples at Corinth where the depth of the channel is less than 0.015 m. The minimum depth he reports is 0.007 m. His measurements, however, do not seem to have added any space that would have been created by a bevel at the edge of the block. 30. I am grateful to Bill Evans of the T. W. Evans Cordage Co., Cranston, R.I., who provided information on the manufacture and characteristics of natural fiber ropes. 31. Blocks IA 836, IA 850, IA 1552,

IA 1554, IA 1574, IA 1590, and IA 3229. Each has features that make it clear that they are blocks from the temple. For example, on IA 1554 the U-shaped channels were added after the normal pair of channels had already been cut; see Isthmia I, pp. 31–32, no. Ar 80, fig. 48. A portion of IA 836 has been recut with band anathyrosis, and the back face was also recut at a sharp angle like some others that we believe were reused in the Classical Temple. 32. Coulton 1974, pp. 7–8. U-shaped rope holes are carved in the tops of blocks, typically in an off-center position. A rope that would pass through the hole could have been used

with a lever to reposition the block. U-shaped channels are cut to hold a rope at each end of the block to lift it with a crane. See also Dinsmoor 1950, p. 174, for illustrations of lifting devices. Pfaff (2003, pp. 106–107) describes examples of U-shaped holes at the center axis of a capital from the Temple of Apollo and an epistyle block from the Apsidal Building at Corinth. The former example demonstrates that large cranes were used by the mid-6th century. 33. Of the seven, two (IA 836, IA 3229) are from the wider pronaos walls and are used at a corner. These have a pair of U-shaped channels to hold a double set of ropes.

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Figure 3.9. Block ia 1552 with a pair of U-shaped channels at one end of the block

channels, whose purpose has not been questioned, provide confirmation that hoists were used at Isthmia. The system of using rope channels and edge anathyrosis to lift and fit blocks that were already cut to the final width of the wall created an efficient manner of erecting the walls. The rope channels on one end of each block allowed the masons to work in either direction by positioning the end with channels against masonry already in place. Each block was reversible, allowing either face to be positioned on the inside or outside of the wall. The walls were likely at least 12–14 courses high, with an estimated total of more than 1,500 blocks.34 Edge anathyrosis as we find it used here may have been perceived as a general solution to fitting materials together rather than a method to be used only for stone. The roof tiles at Isthmia also have anathyrosis, to create an edge on the covers that could be easily trimmed as the tiles were installed.35 The use of the adze and the chisel, woodcutting tools, to cut and trim the soft Corinthian stone suggests that the origin of this method is in woodworking.36 Forms of anathyrosis are still commonly used in woodworking today. Casements and door framing typically have the center removed on the inside face and only come into contact at the outer edges. This helps to prevent the joint from spreading if the piece bows and warps as it dries, but also, as here, a narrow band of contact can be easily trimmed to make a tight fit. The method avoids the difficulty of creating perfectly planar surfaces in order to join two surfaces together. We should view the early development of ashlar masonry as separate from its later use as a technique intended to showcase fine stonework. As the Corinthians developed their stone industry for building construction, they seem to have strived for economy.37 If efficient methods could be employed

34. Robinson (1976, p. 227) proposes that the walls of the temple at Corinth were constructed entirely of masonry. Rhodes (2003, p. 88) reconstructs the masonry as a socle for a mudbrick wall that was capped by a course of stone blocks at the cornice. 35. For the Protocorinthian roof, see below. 36. See Rhodes 1987a, p. 478, for other comparisons between masonry and carpentry. 37. See Rhodes 1987b; 2003, pp. 85–86; Pfaff 2007, pp. 530–531, for the early history of stoneworking in Corinth. Use of stone for architectural work appears to begin in the second half of the 8th century.

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to quarry, transport, and erect large stone blocks, then the time and labor requirements could be carefully managed by the architect. Moreover, it does not appear necessary to posit outside influence in the development of Corinthian stoneworking techniques. As many scholars have noted, there is little evidence of outside influence until the later 7th and 6th centuries.38

in s i t u eVi Den Ce F or H oi s ts

38. Coulton 1977, p. 32. 39. Isthmia I, pp. 7–9. Another line of holes, with appreciably smaller diameters, is found on the center axis of the building. 40. Coulton 1988. 41. Coulton 1977, p. 144.

A series of postholes, arranged in long lines, surround the cella walls (Fig. 3.2).39 These holes are spaced with their centers 4.85–5.40 m apart, and are positioned 1.15–1.40 m from the outside face of the wall. There is a row of eight on the north and south sides of the cella, one additional hole is found near the center of the west side, and two others, evenly spaced, on the east. All are very similar in diameter, ca. 0.35 m, are cut vertically, and descend to a depth of only 0.30–0.40 m below the leveled surface of the cella foundation platform. The diameter, profile, and depth of the holes show that they were made to hold posts with a minimum diameter of ca. 0.20–0.25 m.40 Their relation to the position of the cella walls, their wide spacing, and the substantial posts they held, suggest that these holes mark the positions of hoists or cranes that were used to erect the walls. The general size and some of the characteristics of the hoists can be determined. The spacing and the distance of the holes from the wall show that the cranes were able to reach a height of at least 2.80–3.20 m. A rough estimate of the wall height (at least 12 courses) would indicate that the boom of the cranes rose higher than 3.30 m. The hoists suggested here did not need to lift very heavy weights, but it still seems likely that the booms were constructed at a steep vertical angle to minimize the strain. Support at the ground, by a single large hole, indicates that they pivoted around a central vertical post. The shallowness of these holes shows, however, they could not have fully supported the hoists but rather served to anchor them in place, and to keep them from moving horizontally during operation. The central post would need to have been supported by several braces that would have surrounded it, extending to the ground to keep it erect. All of these requirements limit the possible reconstructions, and it now seems clear that the Isthmia cranes would have had similarities with small-scale cranes used in later eras, though without compound pulleys or winches.41 The use of cranes in Greek architecture was highly developed by the end of the 6th century, but the evidence at Isthmia establishes that some form of crane or hoist was used here at a much earlier date. Several hoists working simultaneously would have been required to erect each wall. A single hoist could only be used to place a few stones without needing to be repositioned and the fitting would be best accomplished by completing each row before starting the next. Although a total of 19 holes surround the cella, it is not necessary to suppose that this represents the number of hoists in operation at one time. Nonetheless, several would have been necessary to make the erection of the walls proceed efficiently.

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Figure 3.10. restored view of a corner of the roof

tH e Proto CorintH ian ro o F An enormous quantity of tile fragments from the Archaic Temple have been recovered, and the appearance of the roof is now well understood.42 The tiles were designed to cover a hipped roof (i.e., a roof sloped on all four sides), and tiles placed on the flanks of the building interlocked with those along the shorter ends (Fig. 3.10). The typical pan/cover tile combines a concave shape for the pan with a rounded cover that overlaps the pan of the adjacent tile. Specially shaped tiles were made to cover the hip where the flanks of the building met the short ends. At the eaves, the tiles were finely finished: the cover was tapered to a triangle and stops short of the outer edge of the tile to provide a decorative pattern alternating with a “widow’s peak” placed at the center of the pan. On the basis of the reconstructed drawings that show the well-regulated final appearance of the roof, one might visualize the Isthmian tiles with precise dimensions, but this is not the case. In fact, the dimensions of all the parts, including the thickness, vary considerably.43 Figure 3.11 (top) shows profiles of two pan/cover tiles to illustrate the variation, and a section drawing (bottom) shows tiles installed over the rafters. The overall length and width of the tiles varies, which shows the tiles were not cut to a precise measurement. More importantly, the shape of the curvature on both the pan and cover portions of the tiles, as well as the width of the cover, also vary, showing that the molds and templates were not made to a uniform shape.44 All of this variation made it necessary to adjust the fit of the tiles to one another during installation (Fig. 3.12). Many examples have been found that were trimmed with an adze along the edges of the pans, and

42. Isthmia I, pp. 40–53; Robinson 1984. See also Cooper 1989, pp. 20– 32; Hemans 1989; Roebuck 1990, pp. 47–50; Winter 1993, pp. 12–18; Gebhard 2001, pp. 54–56; Rhodes 2003, pp. 87–88. For the Protocorinthian nomenclature, see FdD II.9, p. 26, and Winter 1993, p. 12, n. 2. The temples at Isthmia and Corinth are generally regarded as having the earliest examples of fired-clay roof tiles, but Felsch (1990, pp. 312–315) proposes an equally early date for the appearance of the Laconian-type tile. Heiden (1990, p. 42) describes a context for Argive types at Olympia that would place them no later than the third quarter of the 7th century. 43. Robinson (1984, p. 59) describes the variation among the tiles at Corinth as “considerable.” 44. Shrinkage also can contribute to size differences since the amount of water added to the mixture of clay and temper will produce different results. See Rostoker and Gebhard 1981, pp. 213–215, 226–227.

the archaic temple of poseidon

Figure 3.11. section drawings of two pan/cover tiles (it 238, it 109) showing the variation in dimensions and the cutting to the underside of the cover. Below is a reconstructed drawing showing the fit of the tiles to log rafters.

Figure 3.12. restored view of workmen installing the tiles on the roof. Drawing J. Stevens

51

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Figure 3.13. eaves tile it 90 with mud packing (at the top center) under the cover that preserves the impression of a log. the front edge of the eave is at the bottom of the photograph. Scale 1:2

the notch at the upper joint was frequently made wider or longer during installation to align the tile with its neighbor.45 The undersides of the tiles provide more information about how they were manufactured and installed. After the tiles were removed from the molds a significant amount of clay was removed from the bottom, lower edge of the pans to provide an overlap between successive rows of tiles.46 At the same time a large amount of clay was also carved from beneath the covers, and the outside, lower edge was carved to a bevel (Fig. 3.11, labeled “edge anathyrosis”). The removal of clay from beneath the cover was intended to keep the cover from coming into contact with the rafter below it. Instead, the cover was designed to rest on the adjacent pan tile where the beveled edge could be trimmed to provide a good fit, removing gaps that would result from the irregular shapes of the tiles. This is a system of anathyrosis, essentially the same method used to fit the stone blocks. Another element of the installation is mud packing that was placed to provide a flexible fill between the rafter and the cover. One eaves tile preserves a patch of clay where it was baked hard by the fire that destroyed the building (Fig. 3.13).47 In the clay is the clear impression of a round rafter.48 The position of the mud packing is indicated in Figure 3.11 (bottom). The size of the covers indicates that the diameter of the rafters was 20–25 cm. These are logs, comparable in size to modern telephone poles.49 Fitting a system of tiles over the shafts of tree trunks is a difficult design

45. The same fitting/trimming marks are seen at Corinth (Robinson 1984, p. 58). 46. The spacing between the rows of tiles was governed by the size of the notch cut into the top surface. 47. Isthmia I, p. 52, no. AT 14 (IT 190), fig. 60. 48. At Corinth clay was also used to level irregularities in the fit (Winter 1993, p. 16, n. 14). 49. Isthmia was well known for its pine trees, and a likely source for these rafters is the Aleppo pine (Pinus halepensis). This is a timber-producing species that grows straight and typically reaches a height of 15–25 m and a diameter up to about 60 cm in a mature tree. Today, this species is still common in the Corinthia and examples are found in the sanctuary and surrounding areas.

the archaic temple of poseidon

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problem if the intention is to achieve regularity in the final result. The logs would have varied in diameter and in the amount of taper from one end to the other. Their surfaces would have been uneven, even after trimming them with an adze, and there would have always been some amount of curvature in the shaft. The solution that combines a pan and cover into a single tile solved much of the problem. Combining the two parts reduced the number of joints between tiles, and far less adjustment was needed to fit them to the irregular rafters during installation. In this system only the outer, upper edge of the pans would have rested directly on rafters. The curvature of both pan and cover tiles resembles the shape of Laconian tiles that are usually restored in later buildings bedded on a continuous, thick layer of clay.50 For that reason Robinson proposed that the Protocorinthian tiles were bedded in the same manner.51 Hodge, however, challenged the widespread assumption that Laconian tiles required a clay bedding, and restored them directly on the rafters in several monumental buildings.52 A clay bedding requires a continuous sheathing of wood (usually resting on squared, sawn rafters). But all the evidence at Isthmia argues against sheathing, and it is doubtful that there was any precedent for using it at this time. In thatch-roofed structures rafters were made with logs or limbs used in their natural shape.53 It can also be pointed out that the exceptional thickness of the Protocorinthian tiles, far greater than would have been necessary if they had continuous support, can be explained if the tiles were used without a continuous bedding.54 In addition to devising a way to fit these tiles to framing that developed out of vernacular building methods, it must have been of great concern to the architect to develop a way of making them efficiently in a predictable amount of time. There were over 1,800 tiles used in the roof at Isthmia. Based on the features described above, we conducted experiments to reproduce the manufacturing method; the results are found in the appendix to this chapter.

Des i Gn i n G tH e ro oF Creating the Isthmian roof was perhaps the most complex design problem in the building. The Protocorinthian tiles have been viewed as a sophisticated technical design that was rapidly simplified in the latter half of the 7th century.55 Wikander has suggested that the primary benefit of adopting roof tiles over thatch was their resistance to fire.56 But I believe their greatest contribution was to the monumental appearance of the temple. In addition to providing a more durable form of roof, in this case one that lasted without significant repairs until the building’s destruction some 50. Evidence for a clay bedding is found in several monumental buildings of later eras, as well as in written sources; see Caskey 1910; Stevens 1950, p. 178; Martin 1965, pp. 47, 66–67. 51. Robinson 1984, pp. 61–62.

52. Hodge 1960, pp. 60–65, 70–74. See also Wikander 1988a, p. 206; Winter 1993, pp. 97–98. 53. Drerup 1969, pp. 69–75; Fagerström 1988, pp. 101–103; Coulton 1977, pp. 32–35; Williams 1978b,

p. 346; Coulton 1988. 54. Winter 1993, p. 13. 55. Wikander 1988b, p. 285. 56. Wikander 1988a, p. 207; 1988b, p. 289.

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200 years later, the roof system was designed to create a strong pattern. The eaves with alternating finely finished triangular covers and a widow’s peak at the center of each pan were aligned to the position of the columns and pilasters below. The tiles were spaced 0.550–0.565 m apart, aligning four roof tiles above each intercolumniation.57 The alignment of tiles and the use of a standard dimension is confirmed by the hipped configuration of the roof. Each row and column of tiles interlock on the adjoining sides of the roof. Thus, at the two ends of the building, the system is fairly rigid in its requirements. The rows and columns must be aligned into a gridlike arrangement because any significant alteration in the dimension of a horizontal row or vertical column will be carried over to the adjacent side of the roof. If, for example, two columns of tiles were to be placed farther apart it would result in an expansion of the dimension between two rows of tiles on the adjacent side. Along the center portion of the long sides of the building, where the columns of tiles rise continuously to the ridge and do not connect to the hip line, there is greater flexibility. At those locations the amount of overlap can be expanded or reduced by a few centimeters.

tH e “ Geison ” BLo CK s Interpretations of the position and function of the blocks shaped like a geison have been controversial.58 Broneer restored these blocks over the colonnade. However, since they were made in two widths, they were designed to sit on both the narrow and wide walls of the cella and pronaos.59 Rhodes, I think correctly, restored them at the top of the cella walls, but he interspersed them with blocks that have transverse cuttings.60 It is unlikely that both categories of blocks were placed in the same course, however, since both types have anathyrosis on their ends that shows each group was installed in a continuous row.61 In addition, features of the “geison” blocks indicate that they were not visible in the completed building: the inside face was cut very roughly, not to a line, and sometimes fell short of the full width of the wall. Burn damage is heavy only on the inside face, the remainder appears to have been protected by framing, and the front, projecting edge was not cut to a finished vertical face. Another piece of evidence is the lack of any plaster finishing. Key features for understanding the function of these blocks are the carving of the upper surface and the large differences in height among them (Fig. 3.14). In all cases, the carving on the upper surface is very roughly done with an adze, and does not conform to any pattern. Some blocks slope on the side above the overhang, some on the back, some are nearly horizontal, but in all cases the carving is very irregular. The shape and position of these blocks, at the top of the cella walls, was intended to provide support for the log rafters described above, and the rough carving on their upper surface was done in an ad hoc manner to fit irregular shapes. With a roof weighing approximately 48 metric tons, the builders went to unusual lengths to support it. One could argue that a primary reason for using ashlar masonry was to provide support for the

57. See Isthmia I, p. 45, fig. 60, where the eaves tiles are restored with a spacing of 0.55 m. Many of the tiles, however, were spaced a little wider as shown by setting lines found on the upper surfaces that indicate the amount of overlap. 58. Forty-seven fragments of socalled geison blocks have been identified in the new study and will be described in the final publication as rafter blocks. 59. Isthmia I, pp. 30–31 (Group 10). 60. Rhodes 1984, pp. 82–85. 61. I restore the blocks with transverse cuttings (Isthmia I, pp. 26–30 [Groups 6–9]) at the top of the plaster panels, where they were used to hold ceiling members.

the archaic temple of poseidon

a

55

b

Figure 3.14. Block ia 1553 from the top of the cella wall: (a) view of top, showing the irregular cutting of its surface; (b) view of bottom, with the projecting portion of the block on the left, rope channels on left and right. Scale 2:3. Photos M. Bootsman

“geison” block

log

transversecutting block

Figure 3.15. restored section of the temple showing the position of “geison” blocks to support the rafters and transverse-cutting blocks for the ceiling

log

ceiling

0

5m

0

5m

roof. Mudbrick would have served equally well if the wall had not needed to support such a substantial weight. Figure 3.15 shows the position of one of these blocks in a restored section drawing. One log extended from the wall to the ridge and another from the wall to the colonnade. The taper of the log rafters limited their useful length so that a single log was unlikely to have been used from ridge to colonnade, a total distance of about 7 m. The extended width of these blocks provided a greater amount of bearing surface for supporting the ends of the two logs.

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Measu reM ent sy steM Months of preparation must have preceded the arrival of materials on the site, but prior to any of this work the architect would have envisioned the ways that the components would be fashioned into a complete building. One of the most interesting questions concerns the system of measurement that he used to create his design as well as the means by which he communicated his instructions and ensured they were followed. Large numbers of workmen would have been employed, simultaneously executing different specialized tasks. The regularity of the building’s design is evident in several features. Blocks were cut, and tiles manufactured, to specific sizes, even while anticipating adjustments to be made as they were installed. The roof system, in particular, was somewhat rigid in its requirements. The tiles were designed to span the distance between pairs of rafters, the positions of which would have been fixed by the requirements of a hipped roof.62 The repeated use of multiples of the same dimension in so many of the components is conspicuous. The height of the stone courses is ca. 0.275 m, and the width of the cella wall is ca. 0.550 m, twice the height of the blocks.63 The stylobate blocks have an average width of ca. 0.825 m, equal to three times the same dimension. In addition, the interaxial distance between the pilasters and columns, although there are several centimeters of flexibility, is designed to be spanned by four roof tiles, and is also equal to four times the width of the standard wall blocks.64 All these measurements suggest that a standard unit was used to design the building and its components.65 A comparison to the Doric foot of ca. 0.326 m or other known Greek units of measure seems, at first, unrelated. Herodotos, however, provides an intriguing piece of information. In his description of the walls of Babylon he comments that the royal cubit is longer than the common cubit by 3 digits (Hdt. 1.178). If his statement was based on the Greek Doric foot, a royal cubit would be 0.55 m.66 It seems clear that a standardized system of measurement, using a long cubit that is part of the same system as the standard Doric foot, was used to plan the temple at Isthmia, and similar conclusions have been made for other Early Archaic temples in Greece.67 62. Wikander (1988a, p. 207) points out that the regulated dimensions of tiles encourages the development of a rectilinear construction in the entire building. 63. The height of each course in the wall reconstructed by Broneer is 0.273 m. This dimension is probably a few millimeters short of the original height as the result of damage to the beveled edges of the blocks during the destruction of the building. 64. The width of the building to the centers of the stylobates was 13.385–13.455 m (14.21–14.28 m less ca. 0.825 m), which would indicate an interval of 2.23–2.24 m, equal to four

tiles spaced ca. 0.56 m apart. The overall length of the building, ca. 38.425 m to the center of the stylobates, is elongated beyond the standard. The spacing of the row of postholes on the center axis of the building is regular within the cella but an additional ca. 0.55 m separates the two holes on either side of the cross wall that we have restored between pronaos and cella. 65. The standardized dimensions do not, however, necessarily suggest the use of a module in the design of the building; see Coulton 1989. 66. The royal cubit would, thus, be 27 digits long, equal to a cubit of 1½ feet (24 digits) plus 3 digits. It should

be emphasized, however, that this statement by Herodotos does not necessarily provide evidence of outside influence on the early stoneworking techniques in Greece. Gebhard (2001) concludes that there is no direct model for the building’s design in Near Eastern or Egyptian architecture. 67. See Rhodes 2003, p. 92, where he describes a modular system based on a cubit from the dimensions of the tiles. A module of 0.273 m is suggested for the construction of the Archaic Temple of Apollo at Halieis (Cooper 1990, p. 72). Pan tiles from the Halieis roof, 0.55 m wide, might suggest the same cubit system we propose at Isthmia.

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The use of simple ratios at this early date would help the architect visualize the relationships between components and assist him in planning for the quantities that would be needed to erect the building. Overall, the width of the building, 7 columns or 6 intercolumniations, would equal 24 tiles, plus two additional tiles to extend from the center of the outer columns to the outer edges of the roof. It is possible to see the building as a gridlike composition even while acknowledging the flexibility, or imprecision, of its execution.

Con C Lu s i on s

Figure 3.16. restored view of the facade of the archaic temple superimposed on that of the Classical temple

The Temple of Poseidon at Isthmia marks a stage where the ties to vernacular materials and techniques are still strong, but there is a striking ambition to create a much larger, more durable building. The overall size of the building, while impressive for its time, was rapidly eclipsed. Figure 3.16 shows the facade of the Archaic Temple superimposed over an outline drawing of the Classical Temple that replaced it after ca. 450 b.c. But the process of achieving a canonical Greek temple was accomplished in only about a hundred years. The Temple of Apollo in Corinth, built ca. 550 b.c., is comparable in size and appearance to the 5th-century temple at Isthmia.

Archaic Temple of Poseidon at Isthmia, 690-650 B.C. Classical Temple of Poseidon at Isthmia, after 450 B.C. 0

5

10 m

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After Corinth invented fired-clay roof tiles, the advantages and desirability of this new form of roof must have been obvious. Over the latter part of the 7th century, its use became widespread and the development can be followed in considerable detail. There were, however, obvious shortcomings to the Protocorinthian roofing system. The tiles, with their complicated S-curve shape, required a large amount of trimming and cutting during production, as well as special fitting during installation. The development of the Corinthian tile, which followed thereafter, moved toward simplification. Flat pan tiles became the norm and were supported by squared rafters. Ashlar masonry was, however, slower to develop. Corinth was in a unique situation with the soft, easily cut oolitic limestone that was readily available in the city.68 Here, the greatest impediment to the extensive use of stone as a building material appears to have been the difficulty of transporting and lifting it. Elsewhere in Greece, the harder limestones and marbles could not readily be adapted to the Corinthian techniques, and mudbrick continued to be used extensively into the 6th century. There is general consensus that sustained contact with Egypt expanded the repertoire of techniques for working hard stones.69 In particular, the technique of cutting blocks with an allowance of stone and dressing each course and the final face of the wall after the blocks were installed appears to have been learned from Egypt. The Temple at Isthmia provides, at the present time, our best evidence for the transition from premonumental to monumental materials and techniques in the development of the Greek temple. It also appears to be our earliest example of a monumental setting for the entire composition. A platform was cut into the rocky ridge at Isthmia just below the remnants of a cyclopean wall: a visible reminder of the heroic setting of the sanctuary. The hekatompedon for Poseidon, and the 100-foot altar before it, evoked the Homeric notion of great size, establishing one of the great transitional spaces in Greece and marking the entrance to the Dorian land of the Corinthians.70 68. Robinson 1976, p. 225. The stone used in the Archaic Temple of Poseidon is noticeably finer grained and lighter in color than that used, for example, in the 6th-century Temple of Apollo at Corinth, or the 5th-century Temple of Poseidon at Isthmia. The work of Hayward (2003) indicates, however, that characteristics can vary

within each quarry, and finer-grained stone is found outside the city. For a description of oolitic limestone, see Hayward 2003, pp. 32–33. 69. Coulton 1977, pp. 48–50. 70. Pindar repeatedly describes the victory crown at Isthmia as Dorian parsley. See, e.g., Isthm. 2.15, 8.64.

aP P en Dix : ex P eri M en taL t i Le P roD u Ct i o n

71. Robinson 1984, p. 57; Rostoker and Gebhard 1981, pp. 220–222; Gebhard 2001, pp. 57–58; Sapirstein 2009. 72. Ramage (1978, p. 11) has observed these lines on the lower surface of Lydian tiles at Sardis. He proposed that a blade was pulled across the back of the mold to press the clay into the mold and remove the excess clay. 73. See FdD II.9, pp. 37–38, where LeRoy proposes that a raking template (“gabarit”) was used to form the profile of simas. 74. Whitbread 2003, pp. 6–7. 75. Rostoker and Gebhard 1981, pp. 213–215. 76. I am indebted to my colleague Jonathan Stevens, who was chiefly responsible for the processes we used in working the clay. At the time, Jonathan was an undergraduate ceramics major at Wichita State University.

The methods of manufacture that have previously been proposed for the Protocorinthian tiles are based on the use of enclosed molds.71 The large amount of variation in all their dimensions (especially the thickness) and the cuttings on the bottoms of the tiles, however, point to a different method. This is supported by the coarse granular texture on their undersides, which shows that the clay was pressed onto a sandy, rough, and somewhat uneven surface during manufacture (Fig. 3.17), and the outside edges appear to have been cut rather than molded. In addition, the upper surfaces have numerous straight, shallow grooves that were created when particles of temper were dragged by the tool used to form the upper surface of the tile.72 These grooves are the result of working the surface of the clay by pulling a template along the length of the tile as its shape was formed.73 All these features suggest that the tiles were cut from clay that was molded in continuous strips on open ground. The production of the tiles on open ground would have been similar to the techniques used in traditional mudbrick making. The clay mixture is compressed into simple wooden forms set on open prepared ground, and after the forms are removed and the bricks have become firm they are turned on edge to dry in the sun. Brick making is normally done near the source of the clay, and the clay in these tiles was used with little processing. It has a fairly large number of impurities, especially calcareous nodules that often erupted during firing.74 Whitbread’s analyses of Corinthian clay show relatively low amounts of kaolinite, and the fabric of these fired tiles crumbles rather than fractures under stress. Ceramic vessels of the same era appear to have a higher concentration of clay minerals from levigating the clay, and as a result are stronger, harder, and more brittle. Using the unlevigated clay does, however, appear to have had a benefit. It made it possible to cut or trim a tile after it was fired without cracking the piece. The only material added to the raw clay was mudstone, of the type found on the southern and western slopes of Acrocorinth, which was used as temper to reduce shrinkage and breaking during drying and firing.75 To better understand the manufacturing process, Jonathan Stevens and I conducted a series of experiments in 2002–2003 to replicate the tiles.76 Previous work by Rostoker and Gebhard had investigated the clays, temper,

60

f r e d e r i c k p. h e m a n s

a

b

and firing method, and reproduced roof tiles using an enclosed mold.77 Our purposes were to see how tiles might have been mass-produced on open ground, to test how the various kinds of cuttings found on the tiles might have been made during production, and to test the fit of these tiles to a log roof.78 Figure 3.18 illustrates the sequence of making the tiles. We fashioned a wooden template, copying the S-profile of a combination tile, and used it as a guide to cut a rough continuous mold into the ground, matching the shape of the underside of the tiles. After combining the clay with temper and mixing it to an even consistency, we pressed the clay onto the earthen mold to which had been added a thin layer of loose, sandy earth. Thereafter we could quite easily work the clay into the finished shape of a combination tile by pulling the template horizontally across the upper surface (Fig. 3.18:a). The only other part of the formwork that was required was some means of keeping the template at a fairly constant level as we worked it back and forth. We provided wooden runners at each side of the mold for this purpose.79 From our experiments it became clear that the smooth upper surface of the tile, often described as slipped, was made by working the clay after it had been allowed to dry for a short time.80 The final finished surface of the ancient tiles was in fact prepared after the cuttings into the upper surface 77. Rostoker and Gebhard 1981. 78. We used clay and temper as described in Rostoker and Gebhard 1981, pp. 213–214. The clay and quarry at Solomos are also described in Whitbread 1995, pp. 325–327. 79. The finished tiles we created had a range of thickness similar to the

ancient tiles. This was partly caused by holding the template at slightly different angles while pulling it across the clay. The variation of height on the runners and the fluidity of the sandy earthen mold also contributed to the variation. The ancient tile makers, if they followed our practice, would likely

Figure 3.17. Comparison of the bottoms of an ancient tile (a) and an experimental tile (b). the underside of the ancient tile (it 312) has a rough granular texture and the lower edge has been trimmed to overlap the tile below during installation; the ancient tile is missing half of its cover.

have used several molds and templates, which would have contributed to the differences in the finished dimensions of the tiles. 80. Robinson 1984, p. 57; Rostoker and Gebhard 1981, pp. 215, 222; Winter 1993, p. 16.

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a

b

c Figure 3.18. sequence of experimental tile making: (a) pressing the clay into a continuous mold on open ground; (b) cutting the tiles after molding; (c) removing clay from the

d underside after the tile has been lifted; (d) diagram showing the sequence of stages, 2003. Photos

G. Waller

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Figure 3.19. Partial full-scale model of a corner of the roof made with round rafters

were made. As we used the template it compressed the clay, producing a distinct, denser layer at the surface, and the compression produced the so-called slip.81 Some of the ancient tiles show that the finishing was attempted too soon, and a slurry or paste of clay particles was produced that ran over the edges. After molding a long length of tile, we could decide whether they would become tiles with the cover attached at the left or at the right. The notch at the upper joint of pan and cover can be made to place the pan on either the left or right side (Fig. 3.18:b). The edge of the pan was then trimmed to size, and two opposite corners were cut to a diagonal to create the features of the ancient tiles. The removal of clay from the underside was done after the tiles had hardened sufficiently to lift them from the mold (Fig. 3.18:c). This cutting was done, without precise measurement, to remove a large portion of clay on the underside of the cover and on the lower edge. Thereafter, the tiles were left on edge to dry to a leather-hard consistency. The bottom surface of one of our experimental tiles can be compared to an ancient tile in Figure 3.17. We also found that the same template, used in two directions at right angles to one another, could be used to produce a hip tile, and that we could mold an eaves tile by placing a piece of wood beneath the bottom edge at the front and making minor changes to the shape of the earthen mold. It is not necessary to posit separate molds for tiles that were made for the hips, eaves, and ridge. In our experiments we were also mindful of how the tiles might have been mass-produced. About 85% of the tiles used in the temple were simple combination pan/covers that could have been made efficiently in a manner similar to our experiments. Several strip molds might have been in operation simultaneously. In a second stage of our experiments we used two molds side by side to increase the efficiency of producing the tiles. The major part of the labor was devoted to procuring the clay and temper, and

81. The same process occurs when finishing the surface of poured concrete. Troweling the surface too soon moves cement paste to the surface and ultimately weakens the upper layer.

the archaic temple of poseidon

82. Firing the tiles and the capacity of the kilns is the greatest determinant of the total amount of time needed to produce the finished tiles. See Rostoker and Gebhard 1981, p. 225. 83. See Rostoker and Gebhard 1981, pp. 214–215, for a discussion of how water content affects the process.

63

mixing it to an even consistency. Working the prepared clay into a finished strip of three tiles took very little time, less than a half hour. With adequate amounts of clay, mixed with temper and ready to be used, a pair of laborers could easily have prepared several dozen tiles in a day.82 A crucial factor in the tiles’ production is the amount of drying time.83 If the tiles set too long in the molds they begin to crack from differential drying of the top and bottom. If not allowed to set long enough before being lifted, they were too weak to support their weight. With practice we learned to judge the correct time to lift the tiles by watching the appearance of the clay as it was drying. After firing our tiles we fit them to a full-scale model of a corner of the roof using round lathe-turned timbers as a substitute for the logs that were used as rafters in the temple (Fig. 3.19). A hypothetical view of the installation process is shown in Figure 3.12. Installation would have proceeded in rows, beginning at the eaves and working from the corners toward the middle.

c hap ter 4

th e dom e st i c a r c h i t e c t u r e of t h e r ac h i S e t t l e m e n t at ist h m i a by Virginia R. Anderson-Stojanović

Ancient Greek domestic architecture has been a growing subject of research, especially in the last two decades, driven by new questions as well as by published evidence from recent and not-so-recent archaeological excavations.1 One of the results of this renewed inquiry is that we can no longer assume a uniform design for the ancient Greek house. The domestic structures in a small 4th-century b.c. settlement south of the Isthmian Sanctuary of Poseidon, on a ridge known locally as the Rachi (Plan B), provide a noteworthy example of the variability in size and plan of the house in the ancient Greek world. The settlement preserves not only the houses themselves, but their relationship to one another and to the topography of the site over a broad horizontal area. Furthermore, an analysis of the town plan and the design of the houses shows that the society and economy of the community differed from the typical arrangements at contemporary settlements in Greece. The material buried in the debris from the destruction of the village places the event at the end of the 3rd century b.c. and provides a secure terminus ante quem for the houses and their contents. Although the ridge runs southwest–northeast, it will be treated here as if it ran east–west for ease of description. The small town at the highest point at the southeastern side of the Isthmus must have been of strategic importance for the sanctuary and the eastern Corinthia. Although the site does not appear to have been fortified,2 the back walls of the houses along the north side of the settlement, together with the public building (the North Building, built against a cut bedrock scarp), could have served as a kind of defensive barrier.3 1. Nevett 1999; Antonaccio 2000; Ault 2005a, esp. pp. 1–4; Ault 2005b; Ault and Nevett 2005a, 2005b; Nagle 2006; Westgate 2007; Westgate, Fisher, and Whitley 2007. I am grateful to Elizabeth Gebhard, Director of the University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia, for permission to publish the Rachi settlement and for her encouragement and support. The state and restored plans of the Rachi (Figs. 4.2–4.4, 4.6) were drawn by Frederick Hemans with the assistance of

Jonathan Stevens. Pieter Collet, Donald Jones, Ab Koelman, and David Peck worked on earlier versions of these plans. All illustrations appear courtesy of the University of Chicago Excavations. 2. A section of a sizable foundation can be seen at the northwest corner of the excavated area. Large blocks from what was probably a terrace wall are preserved on the south side of the hill. Protection would have been especially important in the unsettled times of the 4th and 3rd centuries b.c. when the

armies of competing Greek city-states, Macedon, and Rome were active in the region. 3. The north slope of the hill facing the Sanctuary of Poseidon was not a part of the settlement. Roofs of the tightly massed houses on the steep south slope provided excellent positions for defending that side of the ridge. I thank Alastar Jackson for his study of the Rachi weapons and for his many insights on the topography and strategic position of the Rachi.

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The existence of ancient domestic structures on the ridge has been known since explorations in the late 19th century, but systematic excavations began only in 1954 under the direction of Oscar Broneer and Chrysoula Kardara.4 The author undertook a further season in 1989 in order to clarify the plan and chronology of the settlement, and to explore areas that had not been excavated previously.5 A small number of sherds dated to the Mycenaean period and Early Iron Age have been found in secondary contexts on the Rachi, but no features can be dated this early.6 By the 6th century b.c., however, the summit of the ridge had acquired a sacred character that led to the founding of a shrine. Votive deposits of Late Archaic and Classical date containing miniature vases and other objects that can be associated with Demeter and Kore serve to identify the cult.7 There seems to have been no permanent occupation of the Rachi at that time, but extensive ancient and modern quarrying at the edges of the ridge, especially at the east point, on the south slope, and at the west end of the settlement, has limited our understanding of what may have once existed in those areas.8

tH e se t tLeMent In the third quarter of the 4th century b.c. houses were built on the eastern promontory of the Rachi.9 Only a single phase of occupation has been identified on the site. The settlement runs along the top of the ridge and part of the way down the south side of the hill, covering an area 52 m wide and ca. 140 m in length (Figs. 4.1, 4.2). The arrangement of buildings on different levels was influenced by the surface configuration of the hill. The North Building, a long structure divided into five rooms, occupies a position parallel to the contours of the north side of the ridge, with its interior cross walls on the same alignment as an air tunnel from the well and as the lower stretch of Street 1. The layout of the houses was based upon a grid derived from a straight line extended along the length of the hilltop.10 The junction of two axes created irregular spaces as illustrated by Houses I, II, and IV. Twenty houses have been excavated, while traces of others marked by bedrock scarps are visible on the south slope of the ridge. An estimate of at 4. Monceaux 1884, 1885; Jenkins and Megaw 1931–1932; Broneer 1955, pp. 124–128; 1958b, pp. 17–20, 31, 32, 36; Kardara 1961. 5. The work was part of a new campaign of excavation in the Sanctuary of Poseidon under the supervision of Elizabeth Gebhard (Gebhard and Hemans 1998, pp. 41, 43, 58–59); AndersonStojanović 1996. The domestic architecture together with the finds from the excavations of the Rachi settlement will be presented in a forthcoming volume in the Isthmia series. 6. Isthmia VIII, pp. 315, 435–436,

n. 67. 7. Anderson-Stojanović 2002. 8. Investigation of ground surfaces from the summit of the hill toward the southwest along the Ayios Dimitrios ridge for a distance of ca. 1,000 m revealed a few cuttings in the rock, but no built walls or cut blocks. 9. According to pottery and coin dates, the houses belong to the second half of the 4th century b.c. (AndersonStojanović 2011). Exact dates for the construction phases are difficult to establish precisely because all structures or features were placed directly on or

cut into the bedrock. In some areas, however, earthen fill was brought in to level the surface, and some of these fills contained datable sherds. Although a small number of ceramics dating to the 5th century b.c. were found in the lower layers of the well, most of the material there and in the South Slope cistern belongs to the third quarter of the 4th century and later. 10. Street 3 is lined by houses with rectangular rooms of varying size containing between 10 and 20 m2 of space.

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Figure 4.1. Central part of rachi settlement (east at top of photograph). Photo W. Myers and E. Myers

11. It is possible that the land where the shrine stood was owned by the Sanctuary of Poseidon, and if so, the settlement project would have been established under its sponsorship.

least 25 houses in the excavated area seems right based upon what is now visible. Built in blocks containing houses with party walls, the structures were separated by three east–west streets (Streets 2, 3, and 4) and two north–south streets (Streets 1 and 5). All streets were provided with drains, some linked to house courtyards. That the houses encroached upon a part of the ridge sacred to the goddess Demeter suggests that either the shrine was moved or there was some urgency about the settlement project.11 The cutting out of stairs, basements, cisterns, vats, and a well sunk 38 m into the rock was a major undertaking indicative of a long-term investment in the project. The principal entrances to the settlement have not been identified. A passageway with broad rock-cut steps at the north side (west of the well) and a similar feature at the south side of the hill (House VIII) suggest main access points. The identification of the buildings as domestic structures arises from their plan, size, and contents, which are consistent with the basic needs of a household. Certain characteristic elements, such as a basement, press room, cistern, and external doorway, are clearly identifiable. Since most structures share walls and many walls have been robbed of blocks, a few words about the methods used to separate and identify house blocks, individual houses within blocks, and rooms within houses are in order here (house numbers are indicated by Roman numerals and rooms by capital letters). The identification of streets based on the presence of drain channels and stairways

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Figure 4.2. Partially restored plan of rachi settlement

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12. Three types of roof tiles were used on the houses: Corinthian, a Laconian type made with Corinthian clay, and Laconian.

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was the first stage in the process. Exterior doorways marked by thresholds and/or pivot sockets confirmed the location of these streets. The following elementary assumptions helped to establish boundaries between houses: (1) no house will have had more than one basement, cistern, press room, or external doorway, unless it is on a different level or faces two streets; (2) given the grid, most houses and rooms will have been generally rectangular unless constrained by earlier features or the terrain; (3) doorways probably will not have faced each another across a street, as a practical consideration; and (4) the presence of a cistern or of a drain leading to the street would be indicative of a courtyard. The cistern was commonly placed in the corner of a courtyard of the house with the inflow channel located on the side of the cistern adjacent to a wall, a pattern that was useful in determining the most likely location of missing walls. In two of the cases where doorways were preserved, Houses IV and XVII, the external doorway led directly into the courtyard containing a cistern. Thus, it is likely that the exterior entrance in other cases would also have been in the courtyard. The identification of individual rooms was made according to the placement of walls, but in the absence of foundations or of rock-cut beddings, a change in the level of the bedrock surface or an estimation of maximum ceiling-beam length was also helpful. In the central part of the settlement there were two blocks separated by Street 3 (Fig. 4.3). The houses in the south block (designated Houses XIV–XVI) are poorly preserved because they were built on a relatively level surface with almost no features carved out of the bedrock. Each of these three houses contained four rooms. The north side of Street 3 also accommodated three houses. The irregularity in size and plan of these three houses is a result of the differences in level of the bedrock from south to north and the spatial constraints caused by the angle of the North Building. The end of an incompletely preserved block is represented by Houses XVIII and I. At the east end of the settlement, Houses X and XI, XII, and XIII belonged to three different blocks separated by Streets 3, 4, and 5. Houses II and X illustrate the variation in the plan and size of most Rachi houses. House II (Figs. 4.4, 4.5), with three rooms plus a basement and courtyard, occupied an area of 80 m2, while House X (Figs. 4.6, 4.7), with one large room in addition to the basement and courtyard, was somewhat smaller at 65 m2. By taking advantage of the sloping bedrock in both areas to create a split-level structure, it was possible to provide basement storage for these two houses despite the small size of the lot. The two basic elements of the Rachi house plan are a courtyard with a door to the outside and either a basement (storage room) or a press room. In addition, each house had between one and three additional rooms, which served the changing needs of the occupants. Rachi houses covered a space of between 55 m2 and 80 m2. Stone foundations on the bedrock surface supported walls of mudbrick. Cut blocks, many reused, were fit into beddings and leveled with pan tile fragments, supplemented by stones. The discovery of many terracotta roof tiles, some intact and others preserving large sections, indicate that pitched roofs of timber were covered with either Corinthian or Laconian roof tiles.12 There is no evidence to suggest that the Rachi houses had a proper second story, despite their small size.

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Depending upon the height of the roof, however, it is possible that small lofts existed just below the ceiling in ground-floor rooms. Courtyards were located along an exterior wall of the house and provided access from the street to the interior. Iron bosses found near the thresholds of doorways into several houses13 support the existence of wooden doors.The robbing of walls or parts of walls and the absence of threshold blocks or preserved doorways inside houses limits the extent to which the circulation pattern can be known. Nevertheless, in some houses it is possible to suggest a pattern by taking into account the floor plan, the existence of different levels, and probable room functions. Unfortunately, the poor preservation of the three houses with the same floor plan (XIV, XV, and XVI, restored with four rooms each) provides no data on movement

Figure 4.3. state plan of rachi settlement, central part

13. Houses II, IV, V, and XVII.

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Figure 4.4. state plan of rachi settlement, detail of House ii and its surroundings

Figure 4.5. reconstruction of House ii. Drawing T. Morton and

J. Stevens

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Figure 4.6. state plan of rachi settlement, detail of Houses x–xiii

Figure 4.7. reconstruction of Houses x and xi. Drawing T. Morton

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patterns inside, except that the courtyard (A) of House XV gave access to one or more rooms.14 It is probable that openings between rooms were closed not by doors but by screens or hanging textiles. In the courtyard of the Rachi house there were square or rectangular cisterns with vertical walls, which had been cut into the bedrock and provided with cover slabs.15 Other containers such as an amphora or small pithos might be used to collect and store rainwater in those houses without cisterns. A fragmentary bathtub, washing basin, and an ointment pot in the courtyard (A) of House X may be remnants from the bathing and washing that took place there, while the grinding of grain and food preparation might have been among the last activities carried out in the courtyard of House XV, where millstones and a mortarium were left behind. The size and workmanship of the basements are quite impressive and different from those of sunken storage rooms. Rock-cut basements are easily defined, while a storeroom that has been identified in House XIV consists solely of a low, earth-filled area of bedrock into which three pithoi had been placed. Another storeroom in House I (room A) was cut down ca. 1 m into the rock. The basement of House XVIII (Fig. 4.8), cut entirely from the rock, is the deepest and most carefully finished basement but not the largest in size. Three steps consisting of cut blocks led into the chamber from the southeast corner, and, in the center, a stone pillar topped by a reused architrave block supported the floor of the room above. The basement of House XVIII is unusual because it is the only one among houses that stood upon the level surface of the hill. Other basements are to be found in Houses IX, X, XVII, and XXI on the south side of the hill where the incline of the bedrock required less cutting.16 Oil stored in the basements of Houses IX and X would have benefited from the constant atmosphere of a rock-cut room.17 Six domestic structures contained a room for pressing olives, indicated by a cement pressing floor, sockets for the wood supports that held the press beam, and the presence of vats.18 During months not dedicated to agricultural processing, the press beam would have been removed and the floor and vats covered, creating much-needed space for the use of the household. For example, the press room of House III was the second largest room of the three-room house. The dedication of a room in six houses on the Rachi to either pressing or storage indicates a focus on production beyond the needs of the inhabitants for part of every other year, or every year for oil.19 The oil might have been sold at the markets on the Isthmus, 14. House XIV had one room dedicated to storage, as indicated by the discovery of three pithoi set into the earth. The courtyard of House XV has been identified by the presence of a cistern. House XVI contained a press room on its southwest corner. 15. Cover slabs were found in situ on the cistern of House XV. 16. House II has the only basement on the north side, where the incline of the bedrock was less pronounced.

17. The basements of Houses IX and X contained eight and six amphoras, respectively; Anderson-Stojanović 1996, pp. 88–89. Commodities could be securely stored in these chambers because (in most cases) they would not have been visible to strangers. 18. Anderson-Stojanović 2007; Foxhall 2007b, pp. 153–159; Brun 2004, pp. 101–103. 19. The prominent place of agricultural processing (press rooms) in

ancient Greek domestic structures is not uncommon in other towns as more detailed analyses are made of the use of space and of the contents and fixtures preserved in houses. Note the presses referred to at Halieis, Asine, and probably Mycenae (see n. 37, below). Cahill (2005, pp. 55, 59) has noted that there is evidence of industrial activities in approximately one-quarter of the excavated houses at Olynthos, even in homes of the relatively prosperous.

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Figure 4.8. House xViii, basement. Drawing J. Stevens

but a more likely buyer would have been the Poseidon sanctuary since oil was an essential commodity for the gymnasia and the Isthmian Games.

raCH i D oMestiC arCH i teCt ure CoMPareD to otHer anCient GreeK Houses Studies of archaeological remains of domestic architecture have increased our knowledge of the physical appearance of Classical and Hellenistic houses and, most importantly, our ability to reconstruct cultural practices that are embedded in the designs of the buildings.20 A common house plan seen all over Greece is the “single entrance, courtyard house.”21 The house is generally rectangular in outline, with a single entrance either into a courtyard or into a small hallway leading to the courtyard. In the courtyard a porch with columns signified the opening to the interior rooms and provided shade when necessary.22 Space for daily activities or rest was available in the courtyard or the porch. A second story was common.23 A dining room (andron), used for entertaining male guests or for other social occasions, was also present in many homes; it is usually identified by a raised platform for couches and by decorated walls and floor.24 Rooms for specific activities such as cooking, bathing, or storage might also be present.

20. Rapoport 1969, pp. 14–17, 46–48. 21. A designation devised by Nevett (1999, pp. 103, 123–124). 22. Variations of the porch, known as a pastas or prostas, were typical. A description of these terms may be found in Nevett 1999, pp. 22–23. The porch is also discussed by Ault (2005a, pp. 66–67), where the term “transverse hall” is proposed. 23. See, e.g., Ault 2005a, p. 73, nn. 85–88, for second stories at Halieis. 24. See Jameson 1990b, pp. 188– 191, for a clear and comprehensive analysis.

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The apparent predominance of a similar (or standard) design for ancient Greek houses in publications of domestic architecture is the result of a necessarily selective study and presentation of data derived from wellknown sites and from houses that are well preserved, in contrast to sites where buildings are small and only partly preserved.25 Rarely have large areas of domestic habitation survived or, even if they have, has it been possible to excavate a large enough area to reveal a town plan. More often a house or two might be discovered. In addition, existing publications vary enormously, from monographs to articles in journals or volumes of collected papers to brief site reports, and in some cases no final publication exists at all.26 As a result, the depth of published detail available to the researcher is not consistent. Apart from Halieis, which is discussed below, the Peloponnese is lacking in well-preserved settlements of the Classical and Hellenistic periods. In his article on Hellenistic settlements and small city-states, Shipley points out the scarcity of any studies on the Peloponnese during the Greek period.27 I summarize here the evidence for domestic architecture from several regions of the Peloponnese.28 Numerous habitation sites have been identified in the Corinthia by James Wiseman and by the Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey (EKAS).29 The site of Kromna, for example, on the road between Corinth and Kenchreai and not far from the Isthmus, has been studied recently as part of the EKAS survey, but it has not been excavated.30 In the Forum Area of ancient Corinth, three Protocorinthian houses were discovered in the southwest part. Above these and in the surrounding area, three buildings were constructed in the period from the second half of the 5th to the middle of the 4th centuries and destroyed toward the end of the 4th century. Building II contained a domestic unit consisting of a courtyard with two rooms on each side. A doorway in the north wall of the courtyard was the exit to the outside, while another gave access to a large court in Building II.31 Building III in this same area appears to be a house, rectangular in plan with two courtyards, one with a well, and a separate space for another well, a kitchen and other rooms appropriate for domestic use.32 At the western end of Corinth, in the Potters’ Quarter, there are houses of the 5th century.33 Recent excavations in the Panayia Field have revealed walls and features such as cisterns and storerooms of five Hellenistic buildings, several of which may be domestic structures.34 25. Cf. Cahill 2002, pp. 82–84. Hoepfner and Schwandner 1994, esp. pp. 82–113, is a model publication of Greek domestic architecture, including numerous reconstructions. 26. See the comments of Tsakirgis (1996), Nevett (1999, pp. 21–29), and Trümper (2005, p. 119). 27. Shipley 2005, p. 315. In his discussion of changes in the status and condition of poleis in the Early Hellenistic period, including building programs, we learn that “there are at least

eleven cities where new houses from this period have been excavated, though exact dates are rarely available; given the traditional focus of classical archaeology on the classical period, this is without doubt only the tip of the iceberg” (pp. 321–322). No references are provided for these discoveries, unfortunately. 28. I do not include brief notices that appear in publications such as AR or ArchDelt, for example. 29. Wiseman 1978; Tartaron et al.

2006. Cf. Salmon 1984, pp. 156– 158. 30. Tartaron et al. 2006, pp. 494– 513. See also Pettegrew, Chapter 14 in this volume. 31. Williams and Fisher 1972, pp. 165–173. 32. Williams and Fisher 1973, pp. 19–27. 33. Williams 1981, pp. 413–415, 418–421. 34. Sanders et al. 2014. pp. 47–71.

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In the Argolid, portions of two Hellenistic houses built in terraces upon the acropolis at Asine were explored during excavations in 1922. The best-preserved of these is rectangular in form, with four rooms and walls built of substantial blocks. Some floors were rock-cut surfaces, others were made of tiles laid on edge or rubble set into lime mortar. Each of the houses was equipped with an olive press.35 At Mycenae, a sequence of four terraces containing blocks of rectangular rooms was excavated during the years from 1953 to 1968.36 Because of their location on the sloping terrain in the Citadel House area, they are poorly preserved. A number of spaces appear to be courtyards; some rooms have cement floors with baths, while others contain presses. The presence of loomweights, basins, and cement platforms has been considered more convincing as evidence for a dye works and textile-manufacturing installation than as a residential area. Combining domestic quarters with industrial production, however, seems more in keeping with what has been observed at this time elsewhere in Greece.37 Excavations in the plain at Stymphalos, in Arkadia, have revealed that houses were constructed in an orthogonally planned residential area, on gradually descending terraces. The houses display plans of varying design and the use of different types of stone. Two incompletely preserved houses, probably of the 4th century b.c., are characterized by the use of party walls in some areas, and each contains a cobbled courtyard with a well. There is some indication that house walls were decorated with painted plaster.38 No rooms with specific functions such as an andron or kitchen have yet been identified. Frequent inundation and cultivation of this southeastern area of the lower city, used by animals or as a source of building stone, along with the presence of groundwater during excavation, have wrought considerable damage upon the remains.39 Without clearly defined floor plans, it is not possible to retrieve information about the organization and function of space. On the lower terrace at Arkadian Lousoi, in the residential area called Phournoi, two large Hellenistic domestic structures have been excavated. Both seem to have experienced remodeling in a later phase, during which facilities for industrial activities were incorporated. In one of these houses was a courtyard, an andron 6 m in length (with places for 11 couches arranged around a floor paved with fragments of terracotta laid in lime mortar), and a bathroom with a tub in place. In the other building were a square terracotta hearth, a small bathroom, several rooms with pithoi, and a room with a wine press.40 After reviewing the paucity of evidence for houses and households in the Peloponnese, let us return to the one exception at the ancient city of 35. Frödin and Persson 1938, pp. 33–38; Jameson 2001, pp. 287–289. I am grateful to Mike Jameson for confirming the identification of the Rachi installations as olive presses and for details about similar installations at Halieis. 36. Bowkett 1995. See AndersonStojanović 1997. 37. For Asine, see Frödin and Pers-

son 1938, pp. 33–38 and Jameson 2001, pp. 287–289. For Mycenae, see Bowkett 1995, pp. 16–22, 25, 26–30, 42–47, fig. 6:a. For Halieis, see Ault 2005a, pp. 79–80; 1999, pp. 559–566. Note also the addition of industrial facilities at Lousoi (discussed below). 38. Williams et al. 1997, p. 38. 39. Williams 1996, pp. 89–96; Williams et al. 1997, pp. 23–25, 43–44;

2002, pp. 139–141. 40. Ongoing excavations at Lousoi are summarized in AR and Praktika. I owe these details of the site to a conversation with Veronika MitsopoulouLeon in August of 1996. See Mitsopoulou-Leon 2010 and the following web site: http://www.oeai.at/index.php/ lousoi.html.

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41. Halieis is the only Classical/ Hellenistic site in the Peloponnese that is included in Nevett’s 1999 study; see p. 54, fig. 8. 42. Ault 2005a. 43. Scholars disagree about the concept of a dayroom, a place where women and children spent their time, as a standard part of the ancient Greek house. Among others, consult Nevett 1995, p. 369; 1999, pp. 167–173; Cahill 2002, pp. 80–81; Ault 2005a, pp. 67– 68; Foxhall 2007a, pp. 233–235. 44. Ault 2005a, pp. 25–31, 61. 45. Olynthus VIII; Olynthus XII, pp. 342–346. 46. Cahill 2002, pp. 80, 102, 153– 157, 162–163. 47. On cooking, see Tsakirgis 2007, pp. 228–229. 48. Cahill 2002, pp. 229–235. House A vii 4 had a room, 3.5 × 3.5 m, containing a small pithos with a capacity of 190 l (p. 104). 49. Grandjean 1988, pp. 453–455. House a in Block II is the small house. House a in Block I may have had an andron. 50. Velenis 1987; Velenis and AdamVeleni 1988; Lilibaki-Akamati and Akamatis 1990; Adam-Veleni 1996. 51. Young 1951, pp. 187–224 (valley between Areopagus on east and Hill of Nymphs and Pnyx on west); Thompson 1959, pp. 98–103 (north foot of Areopagus); Shear 1973, pp. 146–156 (northeastern slopes of Areopagus). 52. Tsakirgis 2005, pp. 69, n. 3, 80.

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Halieis in the Argolid.41 Five houses excavated in the eastern half of the lower town have been published in detail.42 In addition to a large courtyard entered from the street and the columned porch that marks an entrance to the inside, an andron, kitchen, bath, and dayroom or living room (oikos, oecus) have also been identified in these houses.43 No special place was set aside for storage; amphora and pithos fragments were found in several rooms, however, with a goodly number in courtyards. House A, the smallest of the five houses, is estimated to have covered 133 m2, an area much larger than any Rachi house.44 The courtyard, interestingly enough, was approximately the same size as that of Rachi house II. Otherwise, the larger size of the home and the greater number of rooms, with some designated for specific activities, signifies a different standard of living for the occupants of these houses at Halieis than for those living in the Rachi settlement. Moving from the Peloponnese northward to Macedonia, we note that the large, and well-preserved site of ancient Olynthos also displays the “single entrance, courtyard house” with features seen at the town of Halieis.45 In addition to the prostas and the andron, rooms for cooking and bathing are common, but not in every home.46 In fact, very few ancient Greek houses had special rooms for bathing. Most households made use of portable equipment such as braziers for cooking and heating purposes, and louteria (basins on pedestals) or a simple cement platform for washing.47 Olynthos, like Halieis, did not have rooms designated only for storage, but it is clear that certain rooms were used for this purpose; special rooms of this type were common in the Villa District.48 At Thasos, three houses were excavated along the road near the Silenus Gate, a location that determined their orientation and size. The houses are rather narrow with three rooms arranged in a linear pattern, one room in front of the other. Here the court was placed in the middle of the two rooms. One of these houses was relatively small (120 m2). Rooms for cooking or bathing have not been identified in these structures. There is some evidence for an andron in one house.49 Near the town of Florina in Macedonia, there was an ancient town of the 3rd century b.c. at the modern village of Petres. It was built on a hillside and shares the technique of the split-level house with the Rachi (Houses II, X), as well as narrow passageways of between 0.80 and 1.50 m in width between house blocks.50 Several house types exist, one of which is of the single-entrance courtyard type, while two others have plans varying according to their position on the slope of the hill. The ground floor was used for storage and for grinding grain. The total space of the Petres houses, including a second story, has been estimated to be ca.180–200 m2, which would make the ground floor ca. 90 m2, somewhat closer in size to the Rachi houses. At this point we turn to Athens and its domestic structures, which were varied in size and design owing to the absence of an imposed city plan. Houses of the 5th century, altered but still in use in the 4th century, have been excavated in and around the Athenian Agora.51 A courtyard is a common element of virtually all houses, but the floor plan was dependent upon the size and shape of the plot of land. An important aspect of houses in the center of Athens was the incorporation of workshops into the residence, while an andron was present in only a few of the houses.52

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The Attic demes contain houses that vary in many respects from the urban structures of Athens, Halieis, and Olynthos, as is appropriate given the requirements of country life. At Thorikos, it is common for buildings to combine installations for washing and processing ores (ergasteria) with domestic quarters. Most houses lacked such niceties as andrones and bathing rooms, but others display both features.53 The deme houses in the Attic countryside are considerably larger and are dispersed (individually or in clusters) over a broad area in contrast to houses in the Rachi settlement, which are crowded closely together on the top of a ridge. Houses at Ano Voula had neither interior decoration nor any certain indication of andrones.54 Perhaps the space taken up by storage and workrooms made a special room impossible. Alternatively, another room in the home might have been used occasionally for social functions. Furthermore, the absence of the andron in each home might be an indication of differences in social behavior between town and country.55 The settlements of Lato and Trypetos in eastern Crete are of considerable relevance to the discussion of the variability of the ancient Greek house and how house design affects society.56 Both sites display houses that depart from the design of the “single entrance, courtyard house.” In fact, the houses share a number of characteristics with houses in the Rachi settlement, including small size and few rooms, as well as an absence of andrones. Houses at Lato and Trypetos were built upon terraces cut into bedrock.57 Other houses cut into the rock are known from western Crete and elsewhere on the island.58 However, unlike the Rachi houses and many others in mainland Greece, (1) a courtyard did not serve as a controlled entrance to the interior, and (2) a large room with a central hearth is the dominant feature.59 The size of many houses in our brief survey of domestic architecture exceeded 130 m2 (without the second story), some as large as 250 m2, and others at Olynthos and on Delos are even larger.60 At some sites, smaller houses, ranging from 60 to 120 m2, did exist amid dwellings of medium and large size.61 53. J. E. Jones 2007, pp. 276–278. 54. Nevett 2005, pp. 90–93. 55. Nevett 2005, p. 95; Tsakirgis 2005, pp. 69, 77. 56. Westgate 2007. 57. Any settlement constructed on a hillside, regardless of location or historical period, will make good use of appropriate bedrock for house walls and other features; see Westgate 2007, pp. 431–432, 446. Houses built on an earthen hillside, as at Petres, will gradually erode downslope. 58. Westgate 2007, p. 446 nn. 113, 114. 59. See Westgate 2007, pp. 426– 428, 431–434, 438, fig. 12. 60. For Halieis, see Ault 2005a, p. 61. For Olynthos and Delos, see

n. 61, below. 61. Houses from 20 sites in Greece are described and analyzed in Nevett 1999 (p. 54, fig. 8). House A at Halieis, the smallest house, is 133 m2 (Ault 2005a, pp. 25, 61, table B, pls. 10–12). The small houses at Olynthos are listed in Nevett 1995, p. 373, n. 42. Nevett (1999) shows total ground-floor areas of houses (p. 65, fig. 11) and probable living area (p. 76, fig. 13) at Olynthos; in reference to the former, ca. 1% of houses had from 130 to 170 m2 and 45% from 230 to 250 m2. Most houses vary in size from 15 × 15 m to 17 × 17 m (Olynthus XII, pp. 272–279); House A vii 4 (Cahill 2002, pp. 103– 108) is a good example. For Thasos, House A in the Silenus Gate area

(Block II, period 4, phase 2) is quite small at ca. 110 m2 (Grandjean 1988, pp. 219, 230, pls. 86, 90; Nevett 1999, p. 95, fig. 23). Smaller houses in Athens and on the South Hill at Olynthos are the oldest and their size may reflect an earlier time (Nevett 1995, p. 380). On the island of Delos, after the middle of the 2nd century b.c., there are a variety of mixed complexes consisting of tabernae and domestic quarters. The sizes of what appear to be the domestic quarters without the tabernae are quite small, from 36 to 60 m2, others measuring from 90 m2, 102–106 m2, and 130 m2. Larger dwellings (House of the Dolphins and House of the Herms) on Delos may have contained ca. 400 m2 (Trümper 2005, pp. 123–128, table 8.1).

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iM PLi Cat ion s oF raC H i D oMes t iC arCH i te Ct u re As the details of the preceding section indicate, the houses in the Rachi settlement (ranging from 55 to 80 m2) are considerably smaller than many of the domestic structures at the sites referred to, consisting at most of one or two rooms beyond the courtyard, the space for agricultural processing, and a room for storage. We can imagine, however, that there were other small, working communities elsewhere in Greece that have not survived or have not been investigated.62 I suspect that little of daily life in the Rachi settlement was spent inside these very small houses. During cold weather, or if there was a need for private meetings with outsiders, some sort of space would have been found outside or inside the house.63 The shortage of interior space and the (presumed) absence of wooden doors between rooms would have limited any separation of members of the household.64 The densely arranged buildings of the Rachi settlement, the narrow streets, and the absence of open areas resulted in a living and working environment where there was very little privacy. Contact with neighbors would have been frequent because social interaction was inevitable in a village of this kind. And, it may be assumed that the inhabitants were well known to one another and many were probably related, as in small rural communities in modern Greece. A look at the existing house plans produces a surprising result. Of the three types of rooms characteristic of the settlement (courtyard, basement, press room), only one house (XVII) has all three. The fact that the remaining households had only two of the three rooms demonstrates that not every household was self-sufficient. Neighbors are likely to have shared essential resources such as water and space within their homes as necessary. For example, the cistern in House IV may have been shared with House V, while House XV may have provided water from its cistern to Houses XIV or XVI; alternatively, House XVI could have used water from House XVII, which appears to have had several cisterns. Given what was probably a scarcity of water, such arrangements would have required formal agreements.65 In two instances, houses with basements were located directly across from houses that contained olive presses: House XVIII (with a large basement) faced Houses III, XVI, and XVII (each of which had a press) at the intersection of Streets 1 and 3 (Fig. 4.3), and House X with a basement was directly across Street 5 from House XI with the press (Fig. 4.6). Other features 62. Nevett 1999, pp. 157–158; 2007, p. 6. 63. See Jameson 1990b, pp. 190– 191. Similar living circumstances are commonplace in the small apartments found throughout the cities of the modern Mediterranean world, where one room may serve as space for living, dining, sleeping, and storage, in addition to cooking. Much of social life

takes place outside, in the cafes and parks of the community. 64. See Nevett 2007, p. 8; Westgate 2007, p. 451. 65. The well appears to have gone out of use by the last quarter of the 4th century (Anderson-Stojanović 1993). Those houses that had no cisterns might have collected rainwater in other containers, such as amphoras or pithoi.

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support the picture of a closely knit, interdependent community. The bath, well, South Slope cistern, and the putative kopron66 were facilities shared by the inhabitants. The layout and design of the settlement and its houses expresses a society in which distinctions based upon class or gender would be difficult to enforce. Given the crowded living conditions, it is likely that an unwritten code of behavior regulated customary times of the day or year for various tasks or rituals: for example, gender-specific activities such as men’s gatherings or women’s times at the bath.67 Household chores such as laundry or washing rugs, and crafts such as carpentry took place, no doubt, out of doors, perhaps outside the settlement. The daily tasks and rituals of the inhabitants can be reconstructed from the contents of the houses, but the identification of locations for particular activities carried out in individual rooms has been only partly successful.68 Furthermore, we know that rooms in the ancient Greek house served various functions depending on the time of day, the season, and current needs. Activities carried out in households on the Rachi included the processing of grain (millstones), food preparation (mortaria), cooking (cooking stand, grill, set of casserole and pot), heating and serving of food and liquids (pitcher, krater, and lekane), consumption of food (table ware, drinking and serving vessels, containers for oil), storage (pithoi, amphoras), washing (louteria) and bathing (bathtubs), care of the body (covered toilet vessels, medicine containers, unguentaria, strigil), production of cloth (spindle whorls, loomweights), various crafts (knives, saws, hammer stones, whetstones, various tools), and religious observances (miniature vessels, phiale, incense burner, terracotta figurines). Certain equipment, such as millstones and tools, might have been used either for household tasks or for industrial purposes. A comparison of the typical Rachi household assemblage with the material culture from contemporary domestic deposits elsewhere in Greece is not easily accomplished. This is primarily because few publications of domestic architecture include the artifacts found within the houses.69 Because of the typically large volume of finds on archaeological sites, it has been customary to publish them separately from the architecture. An analysis of the artifacts from the Rachi houses reveals no marked variability in type or quality of the domestic assemblage among households, which suggests a similar source of goods and a homogeneous economic 66. Associated with Rachi house VII is a feature that may have been a kopron, as identified by Ault (1999) at Halieis. Cut out of bedrock and rectangular in shape, it is quite shallow and does not possess a level floor, which we would expect if it were a storeroom. The lack of any cement on the surfaces speaks against its use as a cistern. 67. On gender-specific activities in the ancient house, see Nevett 1995, pp. 373–374.

68. That is, as viewed in the framework of Schiffer and La Motta (1999), who focus on the formation of housefloor assemblages. Prior to excavation, the floors of most rooms were very close to the surface, and basements were filled with an accumulation of deep deposits as a result of the destruction on the site. 69. Although many comprehensive and detailed studies of Greek pottery (and other objects) have been published, most of it household material,

the chronological and typological data provided by the archaeological context tends to be the focus. Ault 2005a and Cahill 2002 are among the exceptions, each with a different approach that arises from circumstances of excavation; see the comments of Langridge-Noti 2008, esp. p. 553. The issue is discussed briefly by Tsakirgis in her review of publications on houses (1996, pp. 778– 780); see also Ault and Nevett 1999, pp. 44–46.

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status.70 The pottery shapes and styles used in the homes of the settlement were a part of the greater Hellenistic pottery koine, but as elsewhere in Greece, except for well-known imported pieces, they were made primarily of local clays. The table wares and cooking wares found in Rachi houses belong to the regional Corinthian style and probably came from some of the same workshops as the pottery used in Corinth.

Con C Lu s i on s The inhabitants of the Rachi settlement lived in unusually small houses of varied design, in which the provision of space for the production and storage of commodities (olive oil) was just as important as that devoted to household activities; the absence of andrones suggests that formal entertaining was not regularly carried out. Unfortunately, the archaeological remains on the Rachi have not yet revealed what sort of people maintained such a close and cooperative relationship.71 Life in the Rachi settlement lasted for 150 years before it was destroyed at the end of the 3rd century b.c., perhaps during an episode of the Second Macedonian War.72 The blackened walls of basements, mudbricks that were baked, and pockets of ash and bits of carbon are indications that the destruction was by fire. All existing evidence suggests that the settlement was abandoned shortly thereafter. 70. There were no metal vessels or large, painted vases recovered from any house; such items, of course, may have been present but removed before the destruction or scavenged afterward. A general similarity in household artifacts from site to site makes them rather unhelpful in the search for information about the economic and social status of the inhabitants. 71. Could the inhabitants have been related by kinship? Were they Corin-

thian citizens or metics? Were slaves present? Little (in fact, practically nothing) is known about the Corinthian household and, so far, metics and slaves have remained invisible in the archaeological record ( Jameson 1990a, p. 104; Ault 2005a, p. 56, n. 56; 2005b, pp. 141–144; Nagle 2006, pp. 120–123, 134). 72. Anderson-Stojanović 1996; Gebhard and Dickie 2003; Gebhard 2011; Anderson-Stojanović 2011.

c hap ter 5

C i t y, San c t uary, an d fe ast : d i n i n g Ve s s e l s f r om t h e a r c h ai c r e s e rvoi r i n t h e San c t uary of Pos e i d on by Martha K. Risser Every two years, when athletes, musicians, poets, and painters came to Isthmia to compete with one another for prized wreaths, they sacrificed hecatombs and feasted at “the bridge of the untiring sea” (Pind. Nem. 6.40), between the Corinthian and Saronic Gulfs.1 Relatively little is known about feasting at panhellenic sanctuaries, but recent studies of material found in the Archaic Reservoir at Isthmia are contributing new information.2 Through an analysis of pottery in the deposit, I explore the role of the host city in preparations for the panhellenic feast.

tH e a rC H aiC res erVoi r Oscar Broneer gave the name of “Large Circular Pit” to the manmade cylindrical cavity that he found in 1957. Measuring 5 m in diameter and nearly 20 m deep, it is the largest such pit in Greece, and was surely used as a water reservoir.3 There is no direct evidence for the construction date of the reservoir, but it was probably part of a mid-6th-century expansion of the sanctuary undertaken to accommodate larger crowds as the festival became panhellenic (Fig. 5.1).4 Excavated over three seasons, 1957–1959, the reservoir was filled with pottery, sculpture, architectural fragments, 1. The material presented here is part of an ongoing project; I am enormously grateful to Elizabeth Gebhard, not only for her permission to study the pottery, but for her encouragement and support. I am grateful to my other Isthmia colleagues as well, particularly Virginia Anderson-Stojanović, Frederick Hemans, Alastar Jackson, and David Reese for sharing their work and advice with me; and Jonida Martini, Jonathan Stevens, Sara Strack, and Jean Perras. Elizabeth Pemberton, Ian McPhee, and Nancy Bookidis generously shared comparanda from Corinth. I am indebted to Ann Brownlee, the editors, and the anonymous reviewers for help-

ful suggestions. I also wish to thank Trinity College and the undergraduates who have assisted me during various phases of this project: Audrey Blumstein, Brian Cheney, Jennifer Poppel Diamond, Alicia Ditta, Amanda Keyko, Elyssa Michael, Christina Mitropoulos, Anne King Naparstek, Kathryn Nolin, Joseph Ricci, Courtney Soule, Melissa Steeley, and Annalise Welte. I am also grateful to Karim Arafat, John Hayes, and Catherine Morgan, who previously sorted and weighed context pottery from Oscar Broneer’s excavations; using their work as a starting point, I reexamined the uninventoried context pottery from the deposits

discussed here and further subdivided the material by date, form, and decoration. This work was partially funded by a National Endowment for the Humanities Summer Stipend (FT45265-00). The illustrations in this chapter are by the author unless otherwise indicated. 2. Arafat 1999; Gebhard and Reese 2005. 3. Isthmia II, pp. 22–24, 135–136; Gebhard and Reese 2005, pp. 131–132. 4. Gebhard 2002a; Gebhard and Reese 2005, p. 131. The Archaic Reservoir is called “trench H” in the excavation notes and early published reports.

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Figure 5.1. reconstruction of the sanctuary, ca. 500 b.c., view from southwest with the archaic reservoir in foreground. P. Sanders,

courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

metal vessels, arms, armor, and other items.5 John Hawthorne, who was in charge of the excavation, apparently saved everything, even including 3.4 kg of small, unidentifiable ceramic crumbs so worn and weathered that they must have been exposed to the elements for some time after breakage and before deposition (presumably as sweepings). Broneer discerned seven levels in the fill, but noted that all of the material is somewhat mixed; the overall character of the assemblage changes with depth, but these levels are not clearly separated strata (Fig. 5.2).6 Except for a late accumulation at the top, Broneer concluded that the filling of the reservoir was apparently a single event.7 The nature and condition of the materials in the fill, as well as the order in which objects were deposited, indicate that the Archaic Reservoir was used as a receptacle for debris during a major cleaning operation. The bottom (level VII) was filled mainly with plain or sparsely decorated vessels that were probably stored nearby; most are from the late 6th to mid-5th century, especially the last decades of that range. Fresh breaks on pots suggest that most of the material was broken by being thrown into the reservoir, not before. The vessels were functional but apparently no longer required for the sanctuary when they were discarded. The pottery accumulated to a depth of about a meter, and then other items from around the temple, including two kouroi and fragments from bronze sculptures, were tossed in as well, together with large numbers of complete ceramic vessels. In terms of the pottery, level VI (excavated at the end of the 1958 season) is not much different from level VII (excavated in 1959). Of the vases for which the excavator provided elevations, those from the first half of the 6th century or earlier are most numerous in and above level V. The early material may have been displayed or stored somewhat further from the reservoir than the pottery from the mid-5th century. Levels III, IV, and V contained much architectural debris, mainly 6th-century roof tiles from small buildings.8 The cleanup operation finishes with level II. Pottery fragments in levels II–V are on average much smaller than those in levels

5. Isthmia I, p. 12; Isthmia II, pp. 22–24, 135–136; Broneer 1959, pp. 301–303; 1962a, pp. 1–2. 6. Isthmia II, pp. 135–136. 7. Isthmia II, p. 136. 8. Hemans 1994.

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Level I (0–2.2 m). General sanctuary mix, through Late Roman.

I

II

III

IV

V VI VII Figure 5.2. Deposition in the archaic reservoir. Based on Isthmia II,

pp. 135–136

Level II (2.2–5.0 m). Mainly late 6th- to mid-5thcentury B.C. pottery, small fragments. Perirrhanteria fragments and figurines are also numerous. Level III (5.0–8.4 m). Architectural debris. Little pottery (8th–5th century B.C., small fragments). Level IV (8.4–13.0 m). Architectural debris. Little pottery (7th–5th century B.C., small fragments). Some fragmentary figurines and perirrhanteria. Level V (13–15 m). Architectural debris. Much 7thto 5th-century B.C. pottery in small fragments; 700 g tiny, worn scraps of pottery. Other objects include a fire-damaged bronze kouros and a bronze celery leaf. Level VI (15.0–15.8 m). Much 6th- to 5th-century B.C. pottery, some large fragments of “feasting ware.” Perirrhanteria, figurines, and jewelry were also found. Level VII (15.8–19.75 m). Much pottery, most of which is late-6th to mid-5th-century B.C. “feasting” ware, in large fragments. Other objects include the limestone (ca. 1 m from bottom) and Naxian (ca. 1–2 m from bottom) kouroi; fragments from bronze sculptures; iron discus; metal bowls (and lead rim from stone bowl); bronze funnel; griffin protomes from 7thcentury cauldrons; iron knives; a few strigils; fish hooks; lead swallowtail clamps; perirrhanteria.

VI and VII, and few vessels can be restored. The top, level I, included Roman material and seems to have been disturbed in post-classical times. The filling of the reservoir is associated with the preparation for the construction of the Classical Temple of Poseidon and a new water source in the same area.9 A study of the material in the main fill should be most useful for establishing the date of deposition, but there is some contamination. Of the 44 crates of pottery from levels VI and VII, eight contain material that is Roman or later.10 An examination of the other 36 containers suggests a date for the main fill in the third quarter of the 5th century or slightly later. Among the latest datable pieces found in the lowest level of the reservoir is an Attic black-glazed skyphos (IP 2344) that has a profile indicative of a date ca. 440–420 b.c.11 9. Southwest Reservoir (related to the West Waterworks): Isthmia II, p. 28; Gebhard 1998; Gebhard and Reese 2005, p. 132. East Terrace 6, an expansion of the terracing east of the altar, was part of the same remodeling project; Gebhard and Hemans 1998, p. 10. 10. Isthmia II, p. 136. Broneer noted that one box (lot 1474) supposedly from level VII contained anomalous

material, including 4th-century pottery and loomweights, as well as modern glass, and concluded that there had been a mix-up in labeling during pottery washing. Seven additional boxes from level VII (lots 1431, 1432, 1436, 1455, 1460, 1462, 1610) include small amounts of material, mainly scraps of glass, Roman or later in date, but are otherwise consistent with the bulk of the material. Whether these boxes were

contaminated with later material during excavation, pottery washing, or an unfortunate shelving collapse that occurred about 20 years ago, it is impossible to know. 11. The profile of IP 2344 is between those of P 2292 and P 17165 from the Athenian Agora: Agora XII, p. 259, nos. 344 (ca. 440–425 b.c.), 346 (ca. 420 b.c.), pl. 16.

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Po t t ery For tH e saCreD Fe as t The inventoried pottery from the reservoir is skewed in favor of pieces that are datable, decorated, foreign, unusual, attractive, and whole or nearly complete (Fig. 5.3).12 It is the uninventoried pottery, altogether weighing approximately 1,000 kg, that is broadly representative of the deposit.13 Most of the pottery, especially from levels VI and VII, dates from the second half of the 6th century through the middle of the 5th century and constitutes a typical feasting assemblage, an interpretation consistent with the faunal remains from the same deposit.14 The range of vessel forms is for the most part restricted to shapes used to transport, prepare, serve, and consume food and drink (Fig. 5.4). Coarse wares account for about 62% by weight of all uninventoried pottery: nearly all are Corinthian mortaria, large bowls, and amphoras.15 Some of the cooking and serving vessels are unusually large, and those made to hold individual servings are standardized. Most of the fine wares are unpainted, black-glazed, or partially dipped (“semiglazed”). A majority of the fine wares and more than one-fifth of all pottery found in levels VI and VII are locally made drinking vessels (Figs. 5.4, 5.5). The drinking vessels are, for the most part, kotylai and skyphoi; early dipped one-handled cups are also common.16 Pouring vessels are numerous in the assemblage, particularly the “Corinth oinochoe,” the black-glazed trefoilmouthed olpe, and the black-glazed trefoil-mouthed oinochoe. Northeast of the temple and above the Theater are two manmade caves, each with dining couches in two chambers. In the courtyard of one of these subterranean hestiatoria, a set of 17 intact vessels was found packed upside down in a storage container.17 Deposited about a century after the material in the reservoir, the assemblage likewise consists of cooking, coarse, and plain wares. The mortaria, lekanai, chytrai, and medium-sized bowl are later versions of those found in the reservoir, and the cooking-ware pitcher is similar in size and function to numerous 5th-century oinochoai. The casserole found in the Theater Cave is the only vessel lacking a direct counterpart in the reservoir. Perhaps the shape was not yet in common use when the reservoir was filled, or its function—a fish cooker—was inappropriate for the sacrificial feast.18 Drinking vessels, saltcellars, and serving dishes are abundant in the reservoir but absent in the Theater Cave deposit; metal table ware may have been used by the select group 12. The author accepts partial responsibility. 13. About 380 kg of the pottery from the reservoir is from levels VI and VII. 14. The theoretical model that Thomas developed for identifying evidence of communal feasting through the analysis of pottery assemblages at Tsoungiza (Dabney, Halstead, and Thomas 2004, pp. 202–211) is a useful guide for understanding material found in the Archaic Reservoir at Isthmia. For a discussion of the faunal evidence from the same context, see Gebhard and

Reese 2005. 15. According to Koehler (1981, p. 452), Corinthian A amphoras were made to hold oil, while wine was stored in Corinthian B amphoras. Both types of amphoras were found in the Archaic Reservoir. Amphoras from Chios, Miletos, and other centers, found in lesser quantities, suggest that Greece’s finest wines were brought to the sanctuary (but cf. Lawall [2000], who states that the presence of imported amphoras does not necessarily prove the presence of imported products).

Figure 5.3 (opposite, top). inventoried pottery from the archaic reservoir, percentage by number (n = 784) Figure 5.4 (opposite, middle). uninventoried pottery from the archaic reservoir, levels Vi and Vii, percentage by weight Figure 5.5 (opposite, bottom). uninventoried fine ware from the archaic reservoir, levels Vi and Vii, percentage by weight

16. For one-handled cups, see Corinth XVIII.1, pp. 36–38 (type 1). 17. Gebhard 2002b, pp. 70–71; Hayes, forthcoming. 18. Studies of deposits in the Athenian Agora suggest that the casserole was developed in the third quarter of the 5th century (Agora XII, pp. 227– 228; Agora XXXIII, p. 178), but the shape emerges earlier at Corinth (Corinth VII.6, p. 83; Corinth XVIII.1, pp. 74–75). For evidence that the casserole was used specifically for cooking fish, see Bats 1988, pp. 43–44, 50.

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Amphoras and coarse vessels (7%) Amphoras and coarse vessels (7%) Amphoras and and coarse coarse vessels vessels (7%) (7%) Amphoras Cooking vessels (1%) Cooking vessels (1%) vessels (7%) Amphoras andcoarse coarse Amphoras and (7%) Cooking vessels vessels (1%) vessels Cooking (1%) Pouring vessels (8%) Pouring vessels (8%) Cooking vessels(8%) (1%) Cooking (1%) Pouring vessels vessels (8%) Pouring Drinking vessels (31%) Drinking vessels(8%) (31%) Pouring vessels (8%) Pouring Drinkingvessels vessels (31%) Drinking vessels (31%) Other vessels (53%) Other vessels (53%) Drinking vessels (31%) Drinking vessels (31%) Other vessels vessels (53%) Other (53%) Other vessels vessels(53%) (53%)

Amphoras and coarse vessels (62%) Amphoras and and coarse vessels (62%) Amphoras andcoarse coarsevessels vessels(62%) (62%) Amphoras Cooking vessels (2%) Amphoras and coarse (62%) Cooking vessels vessels (2%) Cooking vessels (2%) vessels Cooking (2%) Amphoras and coarse vessels (62%) Pouring vessels (11%) Cooking vessels(11%) (2%) Pouring vessels vessels Pouring Pouring vessels (11%) Cooking vessels(11%) (2%) Drinking vessels(11%) (21%) Pouring Drinkingvessels vessels (21%) Drinking vessels (21%) Drinking vessels(11%) (21%) Pouring vessels Other vessels (4%) Drinking vessels (21%) Other vessels vessels (4%) Other (4%) Other vessels (4%) Drinking vessels (21%) Other vessels (4%) Other vessels (4%)

Corinthian pouringvessels, vessels,mid-6th–5th mid-6th–5thc.c.c.(31%) (31%) Corinthian pouring pouring vessels, mid-6th–5th (31%) Corinthian Corinthian pouring vessels, mid-6th–5th c. (31%) Corinthian pouring c. (31%) Corinthian drinkingvessels, vessels,mid-6th–5th EIA–LCII (4%) I(4%) (4%) Corinthian drinking drinking vessels, EIA–LC Corinthian vessels, EIA–LC drinkingvessels, vessels,mid-6th–5th EIA–LC I (4%)c. (31%) Corinthian pouring Corinthian drinking vessels, EIA–LC I (4%) c.c.(42%) Corinthian drinking drinking vessels, mid-6th–5th Corinthian drinkingvessels, vessels,mid-6th–5th mid-6th–5th (42%) Corinthian c. (42%) mid-6th–5th Corinthian drinking vessels, EIA–LC I (4%) c. (42%) Corinthian drinking vessels, mid-6th–5th c. (42%) Corinthian drinking drinking vessels, Archaic–Classical (10%) Corinthian drinkingvessels, vessels,Archaic–Classical Archaic–Classical (10%) Corinthian (10%) Archaic–Classical (10%) Corinthian drinking vessels, mid-6th–5th c. (42%) Corinthian drinking vessels, Archaic–Classical (10%) Other Corinthian Corinthian fine ware (7%) Corinthian fineware ware(7%) (7%) Other fine Other Corinthian fine ware (7%) Corinthian drinking vessels, Archaic–Classical (10%) Other Corinthianfine fineware ware(6%) (7%) Non-Corinthian Non-Corinthian Non-Corinthianfine fineware ware(6%) (6%) Non-Corinthian Other Corinthianfine fineware ware(6%) (7%) Non-Corinthian fine ware (6%)

Non-Corinthian fine ware (6%)

19. Bookidis 1987, p. 481; 1993, pp. 53–54; Bookidis et al. 1999, pp. 14–16; Corinth XVIII.1, pp. 13, 15, 26, 39; Corinth XVIII.3, p. 402; Villing and Pemberton 2010, pp. 561–562. Kalathiskoi outnumber kotylai in the Sanctuary, but they were votives rather than dining wares. 20. Bookidis 1990, p. 89; 1993, pp. 52–53; Corinth XVIII.1, pp. 67–69.

admitted to the small dining rooms, or the dining vessels may have been stored elsewhere. The feasting assemblages in the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore at Corinth are strikingly similar to those in the Isthmia reservoir. Locally made kotylai are by far the most prevalent shape; one-handled cups, bowls, kraters, and oinochoai are numerous, as are coarse lekanai, mortaria, and amphoras.19 Cooking wares are common and consist almost entirely of pitchers, cooking pots, and casseroles.20 Probably also used for ritual dining are the chytrai, casseroles, and the plain, black-glazed, and dipped fine wares

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(mainly skyphoi, kotylai, one-handlers, saltcellars, bowls, and oinochoai) found in the Corinthian Asklepieion’s “votive deposits.”21 Although the kotylai and dipped one-handlers are distinctively Corinthian, similar feasting assemblages have been found in Greek sanctuaries elsewhere. At Samos, for example, numerous drinking vessels, bowls, kraters, oinochoai, and amphoras, undecorated but for a few bands and dipinti designating them as sanctuary property, have been identified by Uta Kron as vessels used for the sacred feast.22 A ritual deposit at Troy contains many drinking vessels, bowls, and saltcellars. Chytrai, casseroles, and lids constitute the cooking wares. The only coarse wares are lekanai, a few jugs, and Persian basins.23

istHMia anD t H e CorintH ian P ot tery inDustry What was the source of the pottery? Production adjacent to the sanctuary is implausible but not impossible. Samos seems to have had a pottery workshop at the Heraion during the Archaic period, and other sanctuaries may have had similar industries.24 The primary argument against such an arrangement at Isthmia is one from silence: there is no evidence for ceramic production of any kind in the immediate environs during the 6th and 5th centuries b.c.25 Furthermore, at least one mortarium found at Isthmia seems to be traceable directly to Corinth, and several found in the reservoir are so similar in fabric, profile, and workmanship to examples identified as products of the Tile Works, outside Corinth’s northern city walls, that they may have been produced in that same facility.26 The fabric and distinctive beveled lip of one Tile Works mortarium (C-1940-524) are shared by IP 1548 (Fig. 5.6) and several other mortaria in the reservoir.27 Although its collared form is typical of 5th-century Corinthian mortaria, making attribution difficult, IP 1453 (Fig. 5.7) and the four or more identical uninventoried examples are so similar to another from the Tile Works (C-1940-520) that the Isthmian 21. Villing and Pemberton 2010, p. 562; Corinth XIV, pp. 131–136, pls. 47–50. Although the mortaria found at the Asklepieion may have been employed in food preparation, Villing and Pemberton (2010, pp. 622– 623) point to another use: grinding ingredients for medicines. 22. Kron 1988, pp. 144–147. 23. Berlin 2003. 24. Kron 1984, pp. 296–297; 1988, pp. 144–145; Brize 1997, p. 127; Németh 1994. 25. As far as I know, there is no evidence for pottery production in the immediate area at all throughout antiquity, although molds for terracotta

plaques and figurines attest to the production of such items on the Rachi in the 4th century b.c. See AndersonStojanović 2002, pp. 80–82. 26. A mortarium rim (IP 9297) found in the stadium embankment has the unusual profile and doubleimpressed tongues of Corinth C-1940339 (Weinberg 1954, p. 130, fig. 2:c; Merker 2006, pp. 49–50, no. 45, fig. 33). Among the uninventoried pottery from the Archaic Reservoir is a mortarium rim (in lot 1463) with the same unusual shape but without the impressed decoration. 27. C-1940-524: Merker 2006, pp. 46–47, no. 39, fig. 31. C-1977-52,

from the Punic Amphora Building at Corinth, is also similar: Villing and Pemberton 2010, pp. 576–577, no. 13, fig. 9, dated mid-5th century or earlier. An unusually large example, IP 9915, and fragments of several uninventoried examples were found in level VII of the Archaic Reservoir. Another large mortarium, IP 3637, was found in the Northeast Area of the site. The beveling is a finishing treatment, produced by trimming with a sharp tool as the mortarium was turned on a wheel. I am grateful to Elyssa Michael for her contributions to the study of mortaria at Isthmia.

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Figure 5.6 (above, left). Mortarium iP 1548 from level i of the archaic reservoir. Scale 1:2. Photo M. K. Risser Figure 5.7 (above, right). Mortarium iP 1453 from level ii of the archaic reservoir. Scale 1:4. Photo I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti, courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

Figure 5.8. Lekane iP 1762 from levels iV and V of the archaic reservoir. Scale 1:4. Photo I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti, courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

Figure 5.9. stewpot iP 9734 from level Vii of the archaic reservoir.

Scale 1:4. Photo I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti, courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

examples were likely made there as well.28 The Tile Works at Corinth also produced coarse lekanai, large bowls made from the same fabric as the roof tiles and mortaria. Many such lekanai were found in the reservoir. Several, including IP 1762 (Fig. 5.8), are especially close to Corinth C-1940-561 and may have been brought to the sanctuary as a set from the Tile Works or from a contemporaneous shop producing the same types of vessels from the same or similar clay sources.29 Cooking vessels—even imports—were acquired in sets as well.30 Three Aiginetan stewpots (IP 9734–IP 9736) are so unusually large that they were likely made specifically for public feasting (Fig. 5.9).31 Yet their thin 28. C-1940-520: Merker 2006, pp. 45, 47, no. 36, fig. 31; Villing and Pemberton 2010, pp. 576–579, no. 16, fig. 9. The uninventoried examples were found in level VII. 29. See also IP 1831, and a few uninventoried examples. C-1940-561: Merker 2006, pp. 52–53, no. 51, fig. 34. I am grateful to Brian Cheney for his

contributions to the study of lekanai at Isthmia. 30. For comments on the importation of cooking wares, see AndersonStojanović 2004; Corinth VII.6, pp. 38– 40, 291–301 (appendix 7). 31. For the Aiginetan origin of red cooking wares with golden inclusions, see Klebinder-Gauss 2012, pp. 87–90.

The estimated diameters of the rims of IP 9734–IP 9736 range from 0.230 to 0.300 m. A stewpot of similar size but more angular in shape was found at the Sacred Spring in Corinth (lot 197298:16: Corinth VII.6, p. 78, fig. 52). For similar but significantly smaller 5th-century stewpots, see Pease 1937, p. 304, nos. 205, 209.

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martha k. risser Figure 5.10. stepped lid iP 2359 (top) and lekanis iP 9740 (bottom) from level Vii of the archaic reservoir. Scale 1:4. Photos I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti, courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

walls and consequent fragility seem impractical. Smaller, sturdier cooking pots were also found in the reservoir.32 Many of the fine wares can be divided into groups so uniform in fabric, glaze, and workmanship that they were probably mass-produced in the same shop, and may have been acquired together in large purchases or as contributions for feasting in the sanctuary. For example, at least two extraordinarily large lekanides are a matched pair. IP 9740 and IP 9741 are nearly identical deep, flanged bowls, differing only in the shapes of their handles; the stepped lid (IP 2359) fits neatly on each (Fig. 5.10).33 Though the lekanis is usually considered a personal item—used like a pyxis for cosmetics, jewelry, or trinkets—this type of vessel is frequently found among cooking and drinking vessels in the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore at Corinth as well as at Isthmia.34 Those found in the reservoir were probably used to serve boiled meat or other food at the sacrificial feast. Sets are found in other table ware as well. Most if not all of the small bowls that probably served as saltcellars belong to sets, as do the pourers (Fig. 5.11). For example, nearly all of the “Corinth oinochoai” from the reservoir are so similar to IP 2390 (Fig. 5.12) that they were most likely acquired simultaneously from the same shop.35 Except that those in the reservoir have low ring feet, the plain, round-mouthed pitchers are very similar to two found at Corinth, C-1939-116 and C-1975-135.36 Most from the reservoir remain unreconstructed, but the uniformity of base and rim diameters, handle length and width, and curvature on large body sherds indicate that they were identical in size, as well as shape, fabric, glaze quality, and workmanship. 32. Interestingly, the eschara, a brazier with platforms at the rim for resting spits, is one of the few 5th-century cooking shapes not represented in the Archaic Reservoir. A deposit with sacrificial material east of the altar contained escharai but no stewpots. It was probably used at the altar for the roasting of sacrificial meat. Though absent from Athenian vase-painting scenes related to sacrifice, the eschara was so impor-

tant for the roasting of sacrificial meat that the word “eschara” was sometimes used for the altar itself (Amyx 1958, p. 229). It therefore appears that the roasting and the boiling of sacrificial meat were generally done in different parts of the sanctuary by this time; some meat was roasted on the altar and the rest was boiled or stewed southwest of the temple, where the feast took place. 33. Fragments of at least one addi-

tional large stepped lid were found in level VII of the Archaic Reservoir. 34. Corinth XVIII.1, p. 39; Agora XII, p. 164. See also Corinth VII.6, pp. 217–219, for lekanides in a deposit associated with cultic feasting (context: Corinth VII.6, pp. 10–14). 35. See McPhee 2005, pp. 43–51, for the development and function of the “Corinth oinochoe.” 36. McPhee 2005, pp. 48–49.

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Figure 5.11. a selection of vessels that are representative of sets in the feasting assemblage. top row: semiglazed saltcellars (iP 2356, iP 2299, iP 1742, iP 2361, iP 2360); trefoilmouthed oinochoai (iP 2348, iP 2396); cylindrical olpe (iP 2303). Bottom row: ray-based kotylai (iP 1544, iP 1735); ray-based skyphoi (iP 2424, iP 2416); semiglazed skyphoi (iP 2410, iP 1723); semiglazed one-handlers (iP 2420, iP 2408, iP 2414, iP 2399). Scale 1:4. Photo E. N. Michael, courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

37. IP 1736, IP 9089, and at least half a dozen uninventoried examples; they are dated to the third quarter of the 6th century because of their close affinity to the kotylai of the BK Workshop. See Corinth VII.5, pp. 142–145. 38. See Dabney, Halstead, and Thomas 2004, p. 203, for a discussion of large vessels used at ritual feasts.

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Several sets of drinking vessels were found in the reservoir. One of the earliest is a set of lotus kotylai related to those of the BK Workshop (if not from that workshop).37 These kotylai have a much greater capacity than most, and yet they are not large enough to have served as kraters. They may have been intended for shared ritual consumption of food or drink, possibly by a select group.38 If so, either the ritual or the required equipment soon changed. Vessels lost through breakage were not replaced by others of the same size. Two 5th-century sets of kotylai also consist of relatively large vessels, but even these are much smaller than the lotus kotylai.39 Since there was no continuing need for drinking vessels as large as the lotus kotylai, it is possible that they were purchased or dedicated for a specific, unique event. Most of the drinking vessels are much smaller, appropriate for single servings. Intermingled and found together in large sets, they were probably dumped from a common storage building or area. IP 9838 is one of at least 23 kotylai found in level VII of the reservoir that appear to have been made by the same potter in the first quarter of the 5th century.40 At least 30 others are so similar in fabric and glaze to IP 2416 that they were probably made in the same shop. Even larger sets of skyphoi virtually identical to IP 1723 and dipped one-handled cups are datable to the second quarter or middle of the 5th century.41 39. IP 1544 and IP 1735 are the inventoried examples of a set of ray-based kotylai from the second quarter of the 5th century. A semiglazed kotyle, IP 1581, is the inventoried example of a mid-5thcentury set. All of the kotylai from both of these 5th-century sets are roughly the same size, ca. 0.107–0.108 m tall. 40. Compare to Corinth XIII,

nos. 278-3 (T 3016), 280-1 (T 1072), pl. 37. Many more kotylai are possibly, but not necessarily, in this group. I am grateful to Joseph Ricci for his contributions to the study of 5th-century kotylai and skyphoi found in the Archaic Reservoir at Isthmia. 41. Similar to Corinth XIII, pp. 124–126 (group i).

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martha k. risser taBLe 5.1. siZes oF CoMParaBLe Kot yLai anD sKyP H oi Deposit

Number

Height Range

Average Height

Median Height

Corinth, well 1939-1

17

0.072–0.162 m

0.103 m

0.099 m

Corinth, North Cemetery

49

0.061–0.107 m

0.084 m

0.085 m

Isthmia, Archaic Reservoir

20

0.072–0.100 m

0.079 m

0.077 m

The feasting assemblage from the reservoir is only superficially similar to domestic assemblages found in the city of ancient Corinth. The shapes that are found in the reservoir are common to domestic assemblages, but the sizes of some vessels differ. An examination of the drinking vessels is instructive (Table 5.1).42 Corinth well 1939-1 was filled with a domestic deposit that is contemporary with the bulk of the reservoir’s feasting assemblage. Of the well’s Corinthian black-glazed and semiglazed kotylai and skyphoi, 17 are preserved to their full original height. They range in height from 0.072 to 0.162 m, with an average height of 0.103 m and a median height of 0.099 m. Those found in the reservoir, on the other hand, range in height from 0.072 to 0.100 m, with an average height of 0.079 m and a median height of 0.077 m. Even in contemporaneous North Cemetery graves, in which similar kotylai and skyphoi may be as small as 0.061 m, the median height of 0.085 m for these vessels is noticeably greater than at the sanctuary. The unusual vessel sizes and the uniformity of size within sets seem to be evidence of made-to-order mass production in Corinth’s workshops. It also appears that the coarse, cooking, and plain vessels in the feasting assemblage of the reservoir were not intended for one-time use. Instead, because sets spanning several generations were found together and had fresh breaks, it is apparent that vessels still serviceable after the feast were collected and stored for use at future festivals. The supply, probably stored near the reservoir, was supplemented with new sets as needed. Fine decorated wares, traditionally the starting point if not the sole subject of pottery studies from excavations of Archaic and Classical Greek sites, should be considered a separate assemblage.43 Several 5th-century painted vessels found at Isthmia, including some from the reservoir, are attributable to specific workshops that were apparently located just outside the western city wall of ancient Corinth. For example, a small kotyle (IP 3275) from the Stele Shrine A Workshop, probably located in the area that is today called “the Potters’ Quarter,” was among items washed into the reservoir—or contaminated by such material—during the winter rains 42. Well 1939-1 = deposit 6 in Bentz 1982. Cf. Stissi 2002, pp. 248– 249. 43. The vibrant Corinthian decorated fine-ware industry dominated international markets from the mid-8th through the mid-6th century, and continued to export products for centuries, yet comparatively little is known about

its organization; see Benson 1985a, 1985b; Arafat and Morgan 1989; Brownlee 2003. Ancient authors— insofar as their work survives—are mute on the subject, and no inscription has yet been found to supplement archaeological evidence. Corinthian potters and vase painters did not sign their work as did some of their Athe-

Figure 5.12. oinochoe iP 2390 from level Vii of the archaic reservoir. Scale 1:3. Photo I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti, courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

nian counterparts. The nonfigured fineware styles that are most common in the Late Archaic and Classical periods do not typically provide sufficient information for studies of individual painters, though a few have been identified (Pemberton 1970; Corinth VII.5, esp. chap. 5).

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between excavation seasons, and a broad-bottomed oinochoe (IP 1491) from the Vrysoula Workshop was found in the top level of the reservoir.44 Both are small vessels most likely produced and sold specifically for votive use. Their presence provides additional verification that items manufactured in the host city were brought to the sanctuary on the Isthmus, though we know nothing about the means by which they arrived, or whether they were “raw” or “converted” offerings.45 Moreover, these decorated wares show patterns of distribution and diversity very different than the feasting assemblage in the reservoir. Duplicates are the exception rather than the rule, and large sets are nonexistent. Like the 7th- and early-6th-century drinking vessels, the Late Archaic and Classical fine decorated wares increase in number with elevation, and were probably stored further from the reservoir than were the feasting wares; from the intense burning on some we infer that they had been in the temple during the fire.46 How was feast-related pottery supplied to the sanctuary? Whether the specific arrangements at the Isthmian festival were in the hands of guilds, clans, families, city officials, or cult personnel is unknown. During the Early Hellenistic period, kapeloi, who were permitted to lease shops in the sanctuary, were probably responsible for supplying pottery and other necessary items for sacrifices to Hera on Samos.47 Was there a similar means of selecting secular retailers at Isthmia? Perhaps the sets of pots procured for the feast were viewed as dedications, like the set of Chian kantharoi found on Aigina.48 Specific persons or groups may have been expected to provide such dedications. Sanctuary officials may have purchased it in anticipation of the panhellenic festival, as seems to have been the case on Delos. Delian temple inventories from the 4th century and the Hellenistic period list ceramic vessels among the sanctuary’s expenses in passages that appear to be shopping lists for feasts.49 The payments listed are relatively small for the size of the crowd in attendance; the Delians were probably supplementing supplies of usable pots left over from earlier festivals. No temple inventories have been found for the Isthmian sanctuary, but the policy may have been similar. Many contributed to the wealth of the sanctuary through their dedications and purchases. It was in the city of Corinth, however, that ultimate responsibility for the shrine rested. The pottery assemblage in the reservoir provides a glimpse into the means by which that responsibility was realized in practical terms. We see that potters at the Tile Works in Corinth and at other shops made mass-produced feasting ware, providing large vessels for 44. Corinth VII.5, pp. 139–140; for the Stele Shrine A and Vrysoula Workshops, see pp. 145–151. 45. See Snodgrass 1989–1990. Snodgrass distinguishes between “raw” offerings of items used by people and subsequently surrendered to the deity, and those for which people “convert” wealth into an item manufactured specifically for dedicatory purposes. A broad-bottomed oinochoe that has pre-

viously been used as a container for an individual’s perfume is a “raw” offering, whereas one purchased en route to the sanctuary so that the owner has a little something to give to the god is a “converted” offering. 46. On the date of this fire, see the appendix to this chapter. 47. IG XII.6 169. Kron 1984, p. 297; Németh 1994, p. 61. 48. Williams 1983, pp. 183–184;

Stissi 2002, p. 245. See also Osborne 2004 for comments on dedications as patterns of long-term exchange. 49. Linders 1994, esp. pp. 71–72, 76. ID 401, line 19: [oι]νοχόη καὶ ψυκτήρια, 3 drachmas. ID 440 A, line 64: κέραμος, 4 drachmas. ID 445, line 6: κεραμίων, 3 drachmas. ID 461 B, fr. b, line 51: οἰνοχόαι, 1 drachma, ποτήρια, 3 drachmas.

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the preparation of the communal feast, and small ones for individual servings, perhaps as a means of portion control.50 The small kotylai, skyphoi, and one-handlers may have done “double duty” at the feast, used both as bowls for food and cups for wine. If the meal sequence for panhellenic feasting was the same as for small, private symposia, people would have eaten first and afterward turned to drinking wine.51 The reservoir provided essential water. In adjacent areas celebrants from communities near and far will have joined in the sacred feast, enjoying the hospitality of the Corinthians. 50. With regard to the small size of the individual servings, the Corinthians may have known intuitively what psychologists have more recently proven: a full container is perceived as a complete portion, regardless of the container’s size (see Geier, Rozin, and Doros

2006). The reduction in container size would have reduced the portion expected by those partaking in the sacrificial feast. 51. See, e.g., Pl. Symp. 176a; Ath. 15.665b–c.

aP P en Dix : w H en was tH e 7 tH-C en t u ry teM P Le D es troy eD ?

52. Isthmia I, pp. 1, 4–6, 37–40, 55, 57, 101; Isthmia II, pp. 4, 9–11, 18–20, 24; Broneer 1955, pp. 112, 131–134 (Archaic deposit); 1958b, pp. 24–25, 34; 1959, p. 300; Gebhard and Hemans 1992, pp. 1, 27, 30, 34–40; 1998, pp. 7, 15–18, 34; Gebhard 1998. See also Hemans, Chapter 3 in this volume. 53. Broneer 1955, p. 112. See also Isthmia I, p. 101. 54. Isthmia II, pp. 9, 55 (ca. 480– 470), 18 (ca. 475). 55. Isthmia I, pp. 3, 101, n. 7. 56. Broneer 1955, pp. 133–134, nos. 18–20. 57. Gebhard 1998, pp. 110–113 (appendix A by J. Bentz). 58. Gebhard 1998, pp. 112–113 (Bentz), nos. 1 (IP 1293e), 2 (IP 8323), and 3 (IP 345).

Burned material below the floor of the Classical Temple, charred and melted dedications moved during cleaning operations in preparation for the construction of the 5th-century temple, and patterns of fire-related damage on architectural fragments indicate that the 7th-century temple was destroyed in a conflagration.52 Broneer initially reported that his “preliminary study of the objects from the destruction fill indicates that the fire broke out approximately at the time of the Persian Wars.”53 In subsequent publications, he suggested that the fire occurred ca. 480–470 or ca. 475.54 This date is based in part upon Broneer’s belief that the second Isthmian temple and the Temple of Zeus at Olympia must have been built at about the same time, by ca. 460.55 Thus he reasoned that the Archaic Temple was destroyed slightly earlier. It is now apparent, however, that if the architect at Isthmia deliberately imitated the Temple of Zeus at Olympia, he did so at a later date. Broneer’s second argument for the date of the fire was based upon three fragmentary Attic vessels found in burned fill that had been left below the floor of the Classical Temple. While not undisturbed, the material in the burned deposits cannot reasonably be later than the fire.56 Further study of the burned pottery from the temple was undertaken by Bentz following the 1989 excavations.57 Bentz discovered other sherds heavily damaged by fire that are somewhat later in date than those cited by Broneer. She thus placed the temple fire between 470–450 b.c. In particular, the date of a Corinthian Conventionalizing broad-bottomed oinochoe (IP 1293e) is “probably not much before ca. 460,” that of an unglazed lekanis lid (IP 8323) is “second quarter of the 5th century, probably not early,” and that of an Attic mug (IP 345) is “probably 460–450.”58 More recent studies of the pottery in the burned deposits confirm Bentz’s conclusions and support a date of ca. 460–450. Most indicative are fragments of several Corinthian semiglazed one-handlers, dipped partly into black glaze. They were introduced before the end of the second quarter of the 5th century b.c., and quickly became common in the Corinthia. This type of cup is absent from the earliest stratum in the Punic Amphora Building at Corinth, closed ca. 460 b.c., and from pottery groups 2–3 in the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore, which go into the early second quarter of

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the 5th century.59 Second, the palmettes painted on oinochoe IP 1293e are stylistically similar to those on a convex pyxis found in a mid-5th-century fill deposited during a remodeling of the Sacred Spring at Corinth.60 As Bentz has already pointed out, this burned broad-bottomed oinochoe also has a near twin in well 1934-10 at Corinth (C-1934-1186), which has been dated ca. 460–420.61 The example from Corinth has on its shoulder an added white double-dotted band that links it with the Vrysoula Workshop (ca. 450–410), but the shapes of both oinochoai are straighter and broader and thus appear earlier than those of the Vrysoula deposit.62 Thus several of the fragmentary vases found in the dark earth deposits below the floor of the Classical Temple are datable to the latter part of the second quarter of the 5th century b.c., but none appear to be as late as the third quarter of the 5th century. Absent from the burned debris are vessel forms typical of the third quarter of the 5th century, such as the concave, broad-bottomed oinochoai found elsewhere at the sanctuary. 59. Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore: Corinth XVIII.1, pp. 81–87, esp. p. 85, n. 7. Punic Amphora Building: Williams (1979, p. 114) reports the presence of “votive” one-handlers and an Attic banded version: p. 120, no. 11 (C-1978-126), pl 42. 60. Williams and Fisher 1971, p. 31; Corinth VII.5, p. 46, no. 55 (L-6362-2), fig. 4, pl. 4. For discussions of the development of palmettes in 5th-

century Corinthian vase painting, see Pemberton 1970, p. 286; Corinth VII.5, pp. 29–30. 61. Gebhard 1998, p. 110 (Bentz). For the example from Corinth, see Pease 1937, p. 285, no. 99, fig. 20; Corinth VII.5, p. 106, no. 417, pl. 25. 62. For discussions of the Vrysoula Workshop, see Pemberton 1970 and Corinth VII.5, pp. 149–151.

c hap ter 6

th e te m p l e d e p os i t at ist h m i a an d t h e dat i n g of a r c h ai c an d e ar ly C l as s i c al gr e e k C oi n s by Liane Houghtalin The discovery of a coin in the course of an archaeological excavation is usually welcomed as another piece of evidence for dating the site and its phases.1 Not all coins, however, give precise dates. Some coin series, such as those from the Archaic and Classical Greek periods, offer a clear stylistic development of types, but have not been tied to specific events or years. The burning of the Archaic Temple dedicated to Poseidon at Isthmia, with its rich deposit of Archaic and Early Classical coins, therefore inserts a fortunate terminus ante quem into the coin series from several Greek mints. Recent refinements, however, in the reading of the pottery found in connection with the destruction have lowered the date from ca. 480–470 b.c. to no earlier than ca. 460–450 b.c.2 The new chronology is 1. I am grateful to Elizabeth Gebhard for providing me with the opportunity to study and publish the temple deposit coins; to Gebhard and Timothy Gregory for organizing the symposium “Half a Century on the Isthmus”; and to my teammates at Isthmia, especially Frederick Hemans and Martha Risser, who have contributed enormously to my understanding of the material. I also thank Jane DeRose Evans, who read an earlier version of this manuscript and provided me with several helpful comments. Oscar Broneer originally assigned the publication of these coins to Eunice Work. She had identified them for him and was nearing the completion of a manuscript on them prior to her death in 1961. Although numismatic studies have moved our understanding of these coins greatly forward since then, I wish to acknowledge the many benefits I have received from her notes on the coins and also from the notes by R. Ross Holloway, who worked on the coins in 1966.

The coins are currently stored in the Isthmia Museum. I thank the staff of the Corinth Excavations for allowing me ready access to the coins when they were kept there, and especially Orestes Zervos for many helpful discussions concerning them. All illustrations in this chapter appear courtesy of the University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia. 2. According to Broneer, “the latest of the vases, chiefly black-figured lekythoi and some red-figured fragments, are dated in the first quarter or the beginning of the second quarter of the fifth century b.c.” (Isthmia I, p. 1, n. 2), and “from the latest pottery found in the burned debris the destruction can be dated to about 480–470 b.c.” (Isthmia I, p. 3). For a catalogue and discussion of this pottery (IP 360 + 361, IP 335, IP 350), see Broneer 1955, pp. 133–134, nos. 18–20. Gebhard (1998, p. 99, n. 26) points out that the pottery Broneer cited was earlier than that discussed by Julie Bentz in Geb-

hard 1998, pp. 110–113. Thanks to her study of the pottery from the burned debris, Bentz determined that the Archaic Temple’s “destruction occurred after the beginning of the second quarter of the 5th century, but before midcentury” (Bentz in Gebhard 1998, p. 110). Finally, through continued study of the pottery, Risser has been able to lower the date of the Archaic Temple’s destruction even further to ca. 460–450. See Risser’s discussion of the ceramic evidence from the destruction of the Archaic Temple in Chapter 5 of this volume. The architectural fragments from the Classical Temple, which was built over the destroyed Archaic Temple, do not appear to conflict with the dates of the latest pottery from the destruction debris. Broneer wrote that “the architectural fragments from the Classical Temple indicate that this was built, or at least begun, in the sixties of the fifth century b.c., if not even earlier; consequently the destruction of the Archaic Temple must be

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important, not only for the sanctuary but also for the dating of the same coin types found elsewhere. After an overview of the archaeological context and dedicatory nature of the coins from the temple, the implications of the lower dating will be assessed for certain key coin types from Corinth, Ambrakia, Aigina, and Argos.

tH e teM P Le DeP osi t anD i ts Con text The Archaic Temple, first excavated and published by Oscar Broneer between 1952 and 1971, was examined further in 1989 by Frederick Hemans.3 Constructed in the first half of the 7th century b.c., the temple served several generations—for two centuries or more—before being destroyed by fire around the middle of the 5th century b.c.4 As part of an ongoing study of votive practice at the sanctuary, Elizabeth Gebhard examined the contents of four deposits of burned debris that had been recovered from the temple in 1954.5 The excavator, Gustavus Swift, described the material as composed of ash mixed with carbonized wood, pieces of Archaic roof tiles, burned mudbrick, and “nests” of small objects suggestive of votive offerings. The latter included jewelry, oil vases, figurines, and silver coins.6 Three of the deposits (A–C) sat at the eastern end of the temple and were probably from the Archaic Temple’s pronaos (Fig. 6.1), while the fourth (D) lay in the cella proper. Coins were discovered only in the three deposits from the area of the pronaos and associated fill. All four deposits rested at an elevation below the floor level of the Classical Temple, but were not in the position they would have held immediately after the fire. They had obviously been relocated, perhaps during the removal of the floor slabs belonging to the Archaic Temple, and in one case (deposit B) again in late antiquity. As will be seen below, however, in all likelihood they were not moved far, and the coins may be seen as originally stored within the pronaos.7 The coins from the pronaos and associated fill are referred to here as the “temple deposit.” In his report for the 1954 season, Broneer recorded 133 silver coins as recovered within the temple.8 Two more silver coins were added to this tally by the time it appeared in Broneer’s final report on the Temple of Poseidon, dated before that time” (Isthmia I, p. 3, n. 7). The continued study of these architectural fragments and of the original plan of the Classical Temple, however, suggests instead that it was constructed in the mid-5th century b.c. (Gebhard and Hemans 1998, pp. 1, 6). Certainly, nothing among the terracotta architectural fragments from the Classical period found in and around the sanctuary demands an earlier date (Hemans 1994, pp. 65, 67). Normally it would not be possible, or at least wise, to use a terminus post quem from pottery to date an event (the fire) and then

use that event’s date as a terminus ante quem. The construction of the Classical Temple, however, with all of its attendant evidence for dating, seems to have begun almost immediately after the destruction of the Archaic one, and the coins under consideration here were uncovered beneath the floor of the Classical Temple. 3. For the discovery and first excavations of the temple, see Broneer 1955; Isthmia I. For the 1989 excavations, see Gebhard and Hemans 1992. 4. For the Archaic Temple’s date of construction, see Gebhard and Hemans

1992, p. 35. For its date of destruction, see n. 2, above. 5. Gebhard 1998. 6. Gebhard 1998, pp. 93, 113– 114. 7. Gebhard 1998, pp. 95–97, 113. 8. Broneer called the burned material an “archaic deposit”; he stated that “135 silver coins were found, all but two within the Temple of Poseidon. By far the largest number came from the archaic deposit beneath the floor of the fifth century temple, a few from disturbed fill that had probably been part of the deposit” (Broneer 1955, p. 135).

Classical North Cella Wall

t h e t e m p l e d e p o s i t at i s t h m i a

Classical North Cella Wall

99

Classical NE Anta Stylobate Foundation Stones Classical NE Anta

Classical North Cella Wall

Stylobate Foundation Stones Robbing Trench Stylobate Foundation Stones

Deposit A Robbing Trench Deposit C

Deposit B Robbing Trench Robbing Trench

Deposit A Robbing

Deposit A Trench Late Roman House Foundation

Deposit B

Deposit C Robbing Trench

Deposit B

Deposit C

N

Archaic Temple Pronaos Plan

0

Late Roman House Foundation

Figure 6.1. Plan of the pronaos of the archaic temple of Poseidon, showing the position of deposits a–C. Drawing F. P. Hemans

Late Roman House Foundation

0

5m

Archaic Temple Pronaos Plan Archaic Temple Pronaos Plan

N

5m

N

0 5m published in 1971.9 The widely consulted volume An Inventory of Greek Coin Hoards, published in 1973, also reported 135 coins.10 Further study of the 1954 excavation record has shown that the coins from the burned deposits numbered 130 silver and two bronze, comprising 61 silver coins from Aigina, 59 silver and two bronze from Corinth, three silver from Argos, two silver from Sikyon, and one silver each from Skyros, Boiotia, Eretria, Athens, and Naxos (Table 6.1).11

9. Isthmia I, p. 3. 10. IGCH, p. 5, no. 11. 11. Gebhard (1998, p. 99) identified 128 silver coins as belonging to the temple deposit and introduced two bronze coins into its published record. Both the number of coins in the temple

deposit and their mints have been reported differently in various publications over the years. These differences are the result of continued study of the excavation record and the coins themselves, as well as advances in our understanding of Greek numismatics.

taBLe 6.1. Contents oF tHe teMPLe DePosit oF Coins at istHMia By Mint Period, Denomination

Obverse

Reverse

Number of Coins

Inventory Numbers1

CORINTH 2 Per iod I Trihemiobol Tritartemorion Hemiobol

Pegasos l., curled wing

Drachm Diobol Stater Drachm Triobol Stater Drachm Obol Tritartemorion Tetartemorion

Forepart of Pegasos l. Pegasos l., curled wing

1

IC 90

1

IC 99

2

IC 94, 145

Swastika-like

1

IC 82

Swastika-like?

1

IC 89

2

IC 72, 74

6

IC 78, 79, 81, 83, 84, 85

3

IC 86, 87, 88

2

IC 73, 75

2

IC 77, 80

4

IC 91, 92, 93, 97

2

IC 95, 98

2

IC 100?, 101?

2

IC 105, 109

2

IC 114, 115

1

IC 122

4

IC 104, 106, 107, 108

“Union Jack”

Swastika

Forepart of Pegasos l. Pegasos l., curled wing Pegasos l. or r., curled wing

Four squares incuse, each with rounded projection

Pegasos l., curled wing

Per iod II Stater Drachm

Pegasos l., curled wing

Triobol

Forepart of Pegasos r.

Stater

Pegasos l., curled wing

Drachm

Head of goddess r., in incuse square

3

IC 111, 112, 113

Forepart of Pegasos l. or r.

Head of goddess r. or l., in incuse square

6

IC 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121

Trihemiobol

Forepart of Pegasos r.

Head of goddess r., in incuse square

1

IC 129

Stater

Pegasos l., curled wing

Large head of goddess r.

2

IC 102, 103

Diobol

Head of Pegasos l. or r.

Δ in incuse square

6

IC 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128

Corinthian helmet r.

T in incuse square

2

IC 142, 143

Pegasos prancing to front; around, ΔIO

1

IC 131

Triobol

Trihemiobol

Pegasos l. or r., curled wing

Head of goddess (Athena or Aphrodite) r., in linear border within incuse square Head of goddess l., in linear border within incuse square

Later 5th Century Diobol

Pegasos l.; above r., vine branch with grapes; border of dots

Bronze

Pegasos l.

Trident

1 (AE)

IC 265

Bronze

Illegible

Illegible

1 (AE)

IC 265bis

SKYROS Diobol

Foreparts of two confronting goats

Four-petaled rosette in incuse square

1

IC 140

1

IC 136

1

IC 137

1

IC 144

BOIOT IA (UNCERTAIN MINT ) Tritartemorion

Boiotian shield

[Windmill pattern in] incuse square

ERET RI A Tritartemorion

Head of bull, facing

Octopus in incuse square

Gorgoneion

Incuse square diagonally divided

ATHENS Obol

The inventory numbers for counterfeit coins are in italics, including the three clearly plated bronze coins (two Corinthian staters, IC 107 and 109, and one Aiginetan stater, IC 36) and those with rough or flaking surfaces (two Corinthian staters, IC 74 and 75; one Corinthian drachm, IC 114; 17 Aiginetan staters, IC 6, 7, 14, 22, 28, 29, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 48, 49, 50, 56, 61, and 62; one Aiginetan triobol, IC 38; one Aiginetan diobol, IC 69; and one Argive triobol, IC 133). In 1958, Eunice Work submitted loose corrosion from the surfaces of these suspicious coins

1

taBLe 6.1—Continued Period, Denomination

Obverse

Reverse

Number of Coins

Inventory Numbers1

AIGINA 3 Gr oup I Stater

Sea turtle

Rough incuse

1

IC 4

4

IC 3, 6, 7, 31

3

IC 8, 9, 38

1

IC 43

2

IC 13, 45

3

IC 21, 26, 36

1

IC 10

1

IC 11

1

IC 42

7

IC 18, 22, 25, 27, 29, 32, 35

2

IC 40, 41

1

IC 23

12

IC 14, 16, 17, 19, 20, 28, 30, 33, 34, 51, 53, 55

1

IC 69

1

IC 44

9

IC 47, 48, 52, 54, 56, 57, 61, 62, 63

1

IC 65

4

IC 49, 50, 58, 59

2

IC 64, 66

2

IC 67, 68

2

IC 70, 71

2

IC 46, 141

1

IC 133

2

IC 134, 135

1

IC 139

Gr oup II Stater Triobol Tritartemorion

Sea turtle

“Union Jack” incuse square

Hemiobol

Gr oup III Stater Triobol Obol

Sea turtle

Five sunken segments, incuse

Tritartemorion

Gr oup IV Stater Obol

Sea turtle

“Windmill”

“Proto-tortoise,” with segmented carapace

“Proto-skew”

Gr oup V Stater

Gr oup VI Stater Diobol

Sea turtle

Tritartemorion

“Proto-skew” Four shallow sunken segments

Gr oup VII Stater

Sea turtle

“Small skew”

Drachm

T-Bac k, Lar ge-Ske w Gr oup Stater Drachm Triobol

Sea turtle

“Large skew”

Obol

SIKYON Hemiobol

Dove standing l., with closed wings

Letter san in incuse square

ARGOS Triobol Obol

Forepart of wolf l. Head of wolf

A, indentations, in incuse square

NAXO S Trihemiobol

Kantharos topped by ivy

Four-part incuse square

(with the exception of IC 107) for spectrographic analysis. Although Marie Farnsworth (Research Supervisor, Metal and Thermit Corporation, Rahway, N.J.) issued the results with a strong caveat as to the inadequacy of analyzing such surface “dust,” the analysis did indicate that all of the coins tested consisted of silver plate over a bronze core. Eight additional coins, not listed in italics, also show signs of flaking silver: IC 89, 100, 115, and 129 (Corinthian); IC 57 (Aiginetan); IC 134 and 135 (Argive); and IC 139 (Naxian). 2 The arrangement of the Corinthian coins follows Ravel [1936] 1979, as modified by Kraay 1976, pp. 80–82. 3 The arrangement of the Aiginetan coins follows Price and Waggoner 1975, pp. 69–76, and Arnold-Biucchi, Beer-Tobey, and Waggoner 1988, pp. 14–22.

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Three questions immediately come to mind concerning the temple deposit. First, were the burned deposits disturbed, allowing later material to enter them after the fire and before the Classical Temple was built directly over the remains of its predecessor? Second, if the deposits were not dispersed after the fire and the coins had been stored in the Archaic pronaos, why then were they there? And finally, why were such valuable items not retrieved from the ruins? As to the first question—concerning the possible disturbance and contamination of the burned deposits by later material—Gebhard argued that, although the clumps of burned debris had been shifted after the fire, the mass of material including bits of charred wood and mudbrick remained intact and was not dispersed.12 She found support for this conclusion from the presence in deposits A–C of small, valuable objects, such as sets of gaming pieces, jewelry, aryballoi, coins, and exotic imports, that might have been stored in a treasury. The fourth deposit (D), located in the Archaic Temple’s cella, contained larger items, such as the rim from a wheel that could have hung on the wall. Pieces of the same objects, moreover, came from deposits A–C, but not from D.13 As indicated above, however, none of the burned deposits was closed and workers would frequently have crossed over them. There was ample opportunity for additional material to have been introduced during the period of cleanup after the fire and in the course of the construction of the Classical building.14 Three coins from the temple deposit may be intrusive. Two bronze coins found their way into deposit B and were recovered during sifting. One belongs to the earliest stage of Corinth’s Pegasos-Trident series (IC 265) and thus was struck in the late 5th century b.c. The other (IC 265bis) is broken and illegible, but could belong to the same series and period.15 One silver coin, a diobol from Corinth with Pegasos flying left on the obverse and prancing to the front on the reverse, is generally dated to 431–400 b.c.—two decades after the latest pottery in the debris (IC 131, Fig. 6.2).16 Its findspot, alone at the west end of deposit C, suggests that it might also have been introduced later.17 There is no reason to doubt, however, that the remaining 129 silver coins were present in the temple when it burned. Even allowing for normal variations in type, wear, and purity of metal, they seem a coherent lot in terms of their series and surface appearance.

tH e nat ure oF tH e teM P Le DePos i t To answer the question as to what so many silver coins were doing in the pronaos we must consider the nature of the deposit. As already mentioned, it was included in An Inventory of Greek Coin Hoards. Certainly, in numismatic terms, the group, though somewhat scattered after the fire, fits the definition of a hoard, which is, strictly speaking, simply two or more coins deliberately brought together.18 Yet, to most people, the word “hoard” conjures up a more elaborate meaning, one leading to the image of a lone individual thriftily, even lovingly, saving up coins and hiding them to keep them safe. Such an image can scarcely be connected to any scene imagin-

Figure 6.2. Corinthian diobol iC 131, possible intrusion into isthmia’s temple deposit. obv.: Pegasos flying l.; above r., vine branch with bunch of grapes; below, koppa; border of dots. rev.: Pegasos prancing to front; around, Δ I O. Scale 2:1. Photo I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti

12. Gebhard 1998, pp. 96–97. 13. For descriptions and the distribution of the finds, see Gebhard 1998, pp. 96–109, 113–115. 14. Gebhard (1998, pp. 99, 115) also discusses and lists the few fragments of much later material that were found amidst the debris: traces of Roman plaster, one glass fragment, two marble chips, and a fragment of a relief bowl. 15. Isthmia NB 4, p. 107. See Gebhard 1998, p. 98, n. 24. For additional evidence for pushing back the start of the Pegasos-Trident series to the late 5th century b.c., see Nemea III, pp. 57– 58. 16. BMC Corinth, p. 12, no. 121. 17. See Gebhard 1998, pp. 98–99, n. 25. 18. Grierson 1975, p. 130.

t h e t e m p l e d e p o s i t at i s t h m i a

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able in the pronaos of an active temple. The very use of the name “temple deposit” is therefore meant to stay people’s minds from this ordinary association with the term “hoard.” Many different categories of hoards have been identified by numismatists, however, and the dates and types of the coins from the temple deposit could fit either the category sometimes called a mercantile hoard or the one known as an accumulation.19 A mercantile hoard typically contains a variety of coin types and denominations in contemporary use as currency and would have been the cash on hand for day-to-day financial transactions by a merchant, or, in the case of a sanctuary, by the priests responsible for the sanctuary’s upkeep. If the temple deposit is seen in this light, as the part of the temple’s treasury available for expenditures, then it was probably generated by cult fees or revenues from other sources rather than by dedicatory offerings to Poseidon. All of a sanctuary’s revenues and a portion of its cult fees could be spent for the upkeep of the sanctuary.20 Dedicatory offerings of coins, on the other hand, would have been treated like other dedicated objects, such as statuettes and jewelry: they could not be sold and were not to leave the sanctuary. The large number of fractional coins in the Isthmia temple deposit could reflect the various denominations necessary for financial transactions,21 but, as will be seen, “small change” was also appropriate to accumulated dedicatory coin offerings. An accumulation was typically amassed over a long period of time, often by more than one person. Many examples of such accumulations have survived from antiquity, including the over 12,000 Roman coins deposited, apparently as cult offerings, in the “sacred spring” at Bath.22 If the temple deposit of coins at Isthmia is seen in this fashion, as I believe it should be, then it was probably the result of dedications to Poseidon by a variety of individuals over time.23 The burned debris amongst which the coins of the temple deposit were found contained bits of carbonized wood suggestive of strongboxes damaged by fire.24 While there could in fact have been more than one strongbox for the coins, perhaps one holding funds for day-to-day expenses and another dedications to the god, the temple deposit may best be identified as accumulated dedications to Poseidon for a number of reasons. First, if they were in use for daily expenses and upkeep, the older coins in the deposit should show more wear. Second, the coins were found mixed in with jewelry and other objects that can be more firmly associated with dedications. Third, the deposit was left behind in the debris, despite the fact that the temple authorities must have known where to look for its remains, 19. Laing 1969, pp. 57 (accumulation), 58–59 (mercantile). For a review of the literature defining hoards and a distinction between hoards and deposits, see Aitchison 1988, pp. 270–271. Aitchison (p. 271) uses “hoard” to refer to “a closed group of coins” and “deposit” to refer to coins “which do not necessarily comprise a closed group and may have entered the archaeologi-

cal record over a period of time.” Aitchison (pp. 274–275) therefore treats accumulations as deposits. 20. Pafford (2006, pp. 2–3, 61–67, 180–200) distinguishes between cult fees and a sanctuary’s revenues from other sources, while demonstrating that a portion of the former could still be put toward the sanctuary’s upkeep.

21. Archaic Greek silver fractionals are starting to receive renewed attention; see Kim 2001, p. 12. 22. Walker 1988. 23. Dedications: Broneer 1955, p. 136; Isthmia I, pp. 5, 10, n. 14. Dedications or revenues: Gebhard 1998, p. 99. 24. Gebhard 1998, pp. 93, 109.

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indicating that there was no great urgency in retrieving the coins at a time when cash must have been sorely needed for the rebuilding of the temple. If the temple deposit was made up of gifts to the god, then it was entirely appropriate that it be left buried within the sanctuary grounds rather than spent, even on behalf of the god.25 Finally, some of the coins in the deposit were counterfeit, with a layer of silver placed over a base metal.26 If this were a treasury fund in use by the temple authorities for routine expenses, then surely they would have avoided accepting such coins. On the other hand, counterfeit coins were either deposited or dedicated at other temples and religious sites, so their appearance here amidst an accumulation of dedications to Poseidon would be within reason.27 The usual explanation for counterfeit coins in a sanctuary, one based on sound epigraphic evidence, is that a sanctuary was a good, official place to deposit coins that had been found to be fraudulent and thus needed to be taken out of circulation. Once something was given to a deity, after all, it was not again to leave the temenos. The appearance of counterfeit coins in a sanctuary, however, does not always have to be taken as evidence of an official action.28 It is possible, instead, to make a case in favor of nonofficial, personal dedications of good-looking counterfeit coins in sanctuaries. The importance of a dedication resided in the act of giving, rather than in the gift itself. As Osborne points out, what could a human being give to a god (a figurine or even a grand statue?) that could possibly respond in kind to what the gods could give to the human (health and security)?29 The act of giving, therefore, was the important aspect in religious terms. A particularly extravagant gift, in fact, was as likely meant to catch the attention of fellow humans as the gods—it would lend prestige to the donor and could even advance his political interests. An ordinary individual seeking neither prestige nor political advantage might well give up a flashy but suspicious coin as one of many gifts in a lifetime of offerings, knowing that the god was not going to use the money anyway. The coin was simply something to leave behind in an attempt to maintain a strong connection between donor and deity. Two pieces of archaeological evidence lend support to this idea of nonofficial, personal dedication of counterfeit coins in sanctuaries. First, note that the other types of offerings in a sanctuary varied greatly and that the bulk tended to be small figurines and even miniature vessels that were 25. As Gebhard (1998, pp. 97–98, n. 21) points out, however, it is not possible to know if the coins and other objects were left behind through carelessness or on purpose. Practices from the Near East do lend some credence to the possibility that they were left behind on purpose (Burkert 1992, pp. 53–55; Bjorkman 1996). Certainly the mix of small objects and coins in Isthmia’s temple deposit is reminiscent of the foundation deposit from the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus. For

the latter, see Hogarth 1908 and Robinson 1951. 26. Three staters, two Corinthian (IC 107, IC 109) and one Aiginetan (IC 36), are particularly aggressive examples of ancient counterfeit coins, with the bronze clearly visible below the silver coating. Twenty-three additional coins have been tested and determined to be counterfeit. In Table 6.1 the ancient counterfeits are assigned to the same groupings as the coins they imitated, but their Isthmia inventory

numbers are given in italics. See note 1 to Table 6.1 for a complete list of the counterfeits. Cope (1972) and LaNiece (1993) offer overviews on the techniques of producing silver-plated coins. 27. For the confiscation and deposit of counterfeit coins in the ancient Greek world, see Stroud 1974. For the counterfeits found at Isthmia, see Broneer 1955, pp. 135–136, n. 33; Stroud 1974, pp. 174–175. 28. Pace Stroud 1974, pp. 175–176. 29. Osborne 2004, p. 3.

t h e t e m p l e d e p o s i t at i s t h m i a

Figure 6.3. aiginetan stater iC 58. obv.: sea turtle with trefoil collar, row of dots down middle, and one on each side of row at top (“t-back”). rev.: Large incuse square divided into five shallow sunken segments by broad bands (“large skew”). Scale 1:1. Photo I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti

30. Houghtalin 1985, pp. 67–68. See also Nemea III, pp. 34–35, and Kaczynski and Nüsse 2009, pp. 95–96, for similar conclusions about smalldenomination or low-value (plated) coins as offerings. 31. If some of the small objects and

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no more valuable than counterfeit coins in the sense that neither could actually be put to use in the ordinary world. Second, and more to the numismatic point, we have a great deal of evidence from the Roman world that, at certain water crossings, people would toss objects, especially coins, into the water, presumably as offerings to the local river god. Thousands of coins have been found, for example, along with other small votives, lying on the bed of the Liri River at Minturno, next to the remains of the Roman bridge that carried the Via Appia over the river. The coins that were offered tended to be the small change of their period, presumably the smallest denomination that was in hand when the donor crossed the bridge.30 Many of the dedications that made up Isthmia’s temple deposit were small coins, while others were notably short of the standard weight for their denominations, and those features, along with the counterfeit coins present, suggest that the coin offerings sometimes approached the lower end of value, slightly above the miniature vessels and figurines. Counterfeits aside, why were such valuable items not retrieved from the ruins of the Archaic Temple before the construction of the Classical Temple? It should not be assumed that all of the coins offered to Poseidon before the fire were present in the temple deposit: the coins and other valuables seem far too few to represent the entire contents of the treasury. It is likely that many coins, especially the larger, more visible denominations, as well as jewelry and other precious objects, were retrieved after the blaze. There would be no special concern for what was missed in the general cleanup since everything would remain within the area as permanent gifts to the god.31 Another possibility is the presence of more than one container in the temple treasury. The other chest(s) would have had a different depositional history than that of the temple deposit, which might account for the lack of additional precious objects as well as for the mere single coin from Athens in spite of the city’s proximity to the sanctuary. Yet, other than that one absence, there seems to be a certain internal logic to the composition of the coins in the deposit. The majority of the silver coins (61) are from Aigina, the home of many victors in the panhellenic games.32 The familiar Aiginetan badge of a sea turtle (Fig. 6.3), which called to mind the particular realm of Poseidon, also made for an especially appropriate gift to the god. Close behind Aigina in terms of numbers are the 59 silver coins from Corinth, plus three from Argos, two from Sikyon, and one each from Boiotia, Eretria, and Athens, all logically present, given the position of the sanctuary. The remaining coins, from Skyros and Naxos, are from places that required sea crossings to arrive at Isthmia, a point that would not have been lost on the donor. coins were left behind intentionally, they could have been meant to serve as a foundation deposit for the Classical Temple. See n. 25, above. 32. Pindar celebrates 11 Aiginetan athletes—12, if one counts the fragment to an unknown Aiginetan—three

(probably four, counting the fragment) at the Isthmus, six at Nemea, and one each at Olympia and Delphi. They are second in number only to the 15 victors from Sicily. I am indebted to Elizabeth Gebhard for pointing out to me Pindar’s Aiginetan emphasis.

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tH e Date oF tH e teM P Le D eP os i t an D i t s iMPaCt As mentioned earlier, Archaic and Classical Greek coins often are not as useful for dating as coins from other periods. The lack of rulers’ names or other independent chronological evidence forces the numismatist to rely on a stylistic ordering of the series for each mint and to attempt to tie the changes in styles to firm dates through archaeological contexts. Since pottery types often changed more frequently than coin types during these periods, it is pottery, not coins, that offers the more precise chronological indicator. On the other hand, pottery is also dated stylistically and its chronology is subject to refinement as more examples and contexts are studied. This type of refinement has affected our understanding of Isthmia’s temple deposit of coins. From Broneer’s initial date of ca. 480–470 b.c. for the fire,33 the destruction has been moved steadily downward, first to ca. 470–450 b.c. and most recently to no earlier than ca. 460–450 b.c.34 Until now, numismatists have used Broneer’s original end date for the Archaic Temple as the end date for the temple deposit. It appears as ca. 480 b.c. in An Inventory of Greek Coin Hoards; as ca. 475 b.c. in Kraay’s magisterial Archaic and Classical Greek Coins; and as ca. 480 b.c. in Calciati’s more recent, monumental work on the Pegasos series of Corinth and its colonies.35 It is time that the mints reflected in the temple deposit be revisited in order to see how the downward shift of the deposit’s date affects the chronology of their series. The latest staters from Corinth in Isthmia’s temple deposit bear the enlarged head of a goddess and thus belong to Ravel Period II.2 (Fig. 6.4).36 Based on the date initially given for the destruction of the Archaic Temple, the Ravel II.2 grouping of Corinthian coins has been dated to ca. 480 or ca. 475 b.c. and after.37 On the basis of a lower date for the destruction, the point at which Ravel’s group was introduced may be lowered as well. Such a change for Ravel’s group, furthermore, also affects the dating of the series struck at Ambrakia. Although coins from Ambrakia are not present in the temple deposit, the city’s very first issue shares reverse dies with Ravel II.2.38 With the date for Corinth’s Ravel II.2 lowered, 33. Broneer 1955, p. 112; Isthmia I, p. 3. 34. See n. 2, above. 35. IGCH, p. 5, no. 11; Kraay 1976, pp. 46 (read “Isthmian temple of Poseidon” in place of “Isthmian temple of Apollo”), 82, 96, 124, n. 3; Calciati 1990, vol. 2, p. 709, no. 1 (read “ISTHMIA 1954” in place of “ISTHMIA 1904”). These are but a few examples of the widespread use of Isthmia’s temple deposit in numismatics. It has also been used in the study of hoards across the

Mediterranean, as in Price and Waggoner 1975, p. 22. See also Kroll and Waggoner 1984, p. 337. 36. IC 102 and IC 103. (Given the likely intrusion of the later 5th-century b.c. diobol and bronzes, these are probably also among the latest coins in the uncontaminated deposit.) Ravel [1936] 1979, vol. 1, no. 190, pl. XII. 37. 480 b.c.: Calciati 1990, vol. 1, pp. 144, 147. 475 b.c.: Kraay 1976, p. 82. 38. Kraay 1976, pp. 82, 124; 1977, p. 35; Calciati 1990, vol. 1, pp. 144, 147.

Figure 6.4. Corinthian stater iC 103. obv.: Pegasos flying l.; below, koppa. rev.: Large head of goddess (athena or aphrodite) r., in incuse square. Scale 1:1. Photo I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti

t h e t e m p l e d e p o s i t at i s t h m i a

Figure 6.5. argive obol iC 134. obv.: Head of wolf. rev.: A in incuse square. Scale 2:1. Photo I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti

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the date for the linked initial coinage of Ambrakia must also be lowered. It is no longer advisable to connect Ambrakia’s first issue to events from the Persian Wars, nor is it now necessary to explain away a gap of several decades between the initial coinage of Ambrakia and the next series of Ambrakian coinage.39 Instead, it now seems clear that the first coins of Ambrakia were likely struck ca. 460–450 b.c. The latest Aiginetan staters in the temple deposit feature the T-back turtle on the obverse and the large-skew pattern on the reverse (Fig. 6.3). Once again, based on their presence in the deposit, they have been dated to ca. 475 b.c., but they may actually have been introduced later.40 The T-back/ large-skew design probably ended when Athens took control of Aigina in 457/6 b.c., so a down-dating of the type’s introduction based on the lower destruction date for the Archaic Temple could explain why relatively few of these coins seem to have been struck.41 It is noteworthy that there are fewer staters in the latest groups from Corinth and Aigina than in the immediately preceding groups—two large-headed Corinthian staters, as opposed to six Corinthian staters with small heads, and four large-skew Aiginetan staters, as opposed to nine small-skew Aiginetan staters (Table 6.1). Even taking into account that a different number of coins was issued for each group, this pattern for the two separate mints suggests that the latest coin types for each were introduced not long before the destruction of the Archaic Temple—that is, before their circulation numbers had a chance to match those of the preceding issues. The later date for the temple deposit also shows that while coinage began in Argos before the middle of the 5th century b.c., it is no longer necessary to push that start back very many years before the middle of the 5th (Fig. 6.5). There has been much discussion over the years concerning the point at which Argos began to strike coins: should its series be started before its defeat by the Spartans at Sepeia, ca. 495 b.c., or should the start of the series be set in the period of Argive recovery and expansion, ca. 468 b.c.? When it was thought that the Archaic Temple at Isthmia burned ca. 480–470 b.c., numismatists leaned toward the earlier date, or at least an intermediate one, for the start of Argive coinage.42 With the later date for the burning of the temple, however, there is no particular reason to see the start of the Argive series before the expansion of the city in 468 b.c.43 39. For connections to the Persian Wars and for early Ambrakian coinage in general, see Kraay 1976, pp. 82, 124; 1977, pp. 42–43. 40. IC 49, IC 50, IC 58, and IC 59. Kroll and Waggoner (1984, p. 337) pay special attention to the T-back/largeskew type. Lowering the date of its introduction would serve to reinforce their arguments concerning the dating of the earliest Greek coins. 41. Kraay 1976, p. 46.

42. Kraay 1976, p. 96. 43. Pausanias (8.27.1) describes the expansion of Argos after the Persian Wars. The Argives destroyed or took over several minor towns in the Argolid, including Tiryns and Mycenae. According to Diodoros (11.65.2), in 468 b.c. Mycenae vied with Argos for the right to control the Nemean Games. See Nemea III, p. 15, n. 35, on the control of the Nemean Games.

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Co nCLusion The temple deposit of coins from the Archaic Temple of Poseidon at Isthmia, consisting of remnants left in place during the building of the Classical Temple, provides insight into the depository and dedicatory practices at a Greek sanctuary. It seems likely that the deposit, counterfeits and small denominations included, was made up of votive offerings to Poseidon accumulated over the years. The deposit was left in place, either casually or intentionally, during the building of the Classical Temple, since it was the permanent property of the god. After its discovery in 1954, Isthmia’s temple deposit offered what was considered a “secure” date of ca. 480 b.c. for a number of coin series, three that were represented in the deposit (Corinth, Aigina, and Argos) and even one that was not present (Ambrakia). As that date has shifted downward, however, due to advances in reading the deposit’s pottery, so must the dates for those coin series be reexamined and lowered accordingly. The Ravel II.2 grouping of coins from Corinth, the start of Ambrakia’s coinage, and the T-back/large-skew coins of Aigina may now be seen to have begun as late as ca. 460–450 b.c., and the start of coinage at Argos not long before that.

c hap ter 7

r i d i n g f or Pos e i d on : te r rac ot ta fi g u r i n e s f r om th e San c t uary of Pos e i d on by Arne Thomsen

1. Mitten 1961. The thesis was supervised by George M. A. Hanfman, whom Mitten later followed as chair and Harvard University Art Museum curator. A copy of the dissertation can be found at the Isthmia Museum. All illustrations in this chapter are courtesy of the University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia unless otherwise indicated. 2. See Gebhard and Hemans 1992, 1998; Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998. 3. The catalogue was compiled by Jessica Nager, now Jessica Nitschke. A copy is on file in the Isthmia Museum. 4. The vast majority of the terracotta figurines at Isthmia are of local Corinthian manufacture, based on visual inspection of the fabric. There are a certain number of clearly Attic imports, particularly among the early material (see, e.g., Isthmia VIII, pp. 172, 174, nos. F28, F36, F37), and several of the figurines are most probably Argive, distinguished again by fabric, while their iconography shows no marked differences. The Corinthian material is not necessarily from the Potters’ Quarter at Corinth; there are indications of figurine production at or near the Isthmian sanctuary itself (see below). 5. Only during the 2007 campaign did it come to my attention that there are a (thus far very limited) number of tiny fragments of terracotta figurines, mostly the repetitive horse’s legs, that were never inventoried but kept with the context pottery. They need not be expected to significantly change the overall picture.

As early as 1960, while his excavations were still in progress, Oscar Broneer assigned the study of the terracotta figurines that had been brought as votives into the Sanctuary of Poseidon to David Mitten, who, a year later, submitted a doctoral dissertation at Harvard University on “Terracotta Figurines from the Isthmian Sanctuary of Poseidon.”1 The dissertation included a descriptive catalogue and discussion of 175 figurines and fragments from the 335 examples that were then in the inventory. His work was intended to appear as part of the final publication of the Isthmia excavations, but due to Mitten’s commitments this did not happen. When Elizabeth Gebhard revived the archaeology of Isthmia with the extensive 1989 excavations,2 more than a hundred new terracotta fragments came to light and were inventoried. Mitten reviewed, identified, dated, and commented on all of the new finds in two study seasons (1990 and 1991), but a few years later resigned from the project. The present study is based on a catalogue compiled in 1998 from Mitten’s dissertation, his notes of 1990 and 1991, as well as the objects published by Catherine Morgan in Isthmia VIII.3 It contains 628 inventoried terracotta figurines and fragments, providing full descriptions for 400 of them and listing another 200.4 When Elizabeth Gebhard invited me to continue the study of Isthmia terracotta figurines, the first task was to complete a full descriptive catalogue of all examples. Even though many of the pieces are extremely small, it is hoped that their inclusion will lead to additional insights.5 Some of the results derived from this detailed study are presented here. They should, however, be considered preliminary to any final presentation. I will first give an outline of the material, with some general remarks and some particulars on the character of the collection. Most of what is contained in this chapter, which comes at an early stage of my own study, relies heavily on Mitten’s work and conclusions. After an overview, I will discuss in more detail the major group of terracottas from the sanctuary, the horse and horse-and-rider figurines. Questions of context and reconstruction of ritual practices, important as they are, must await further research. Comparisons with the situation in other sanctuaries will be drawn in general terms and only to a limited extent.

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a

b

oVerVie w oF tH e asseM BLaG e Figurines of horses, or horses and riders, all of them handmade, form the largest typological category within the Isthmia material (Fig. 7.1). Two hundred and fifty-five out of 628 inventoried items belong to this grouping, the ratio being even higher when figurines found outside the sanctuary are excluded. In some cases, fragments inventoried individually may belong to a single figurine, as many fragments consist of no more than a leg. Riders and horses are found both joined and separately; the ancient join usually was small and weak and often barely left a mark. Thus, it is difficult to tell if there had existed more than very few single horses since virtually all examples now without a rider might have carried one originally. Types and workmanship are generally very basic. I shall return to problems of dating at the end of the chapter. Among the animals represented, horses dominate the assemblage. After a small number of Geometric forerunners,6 horses start to appear more frequently during the 7th century b.c., becoming the favorite type of figurine toward the end of the century and onward.7 Earlier, bulls were the animal of choice, with more than a dozen examples, probably from the Geometric period, published in Isthmia VIII.8 Their dating is difficult, however; some examples, such as an unusually large figurine of nearly 15 cm in length (IM 1104, Fig. 7.2:a), might belong to the 7th century as well as the 8th, as Morgan herself acknowledged.9 In either case, a fine series of bulls spans the 7th and early 6th centuries, the latter century being a period of high activity in the sanctuary.10 The terracotta bulls become less numerous and eventually disappear toward the end of the 6th century. The figurine IM 2434 (Fig. 7.2:b) might actually be the latest example, probably to be dated, however, still within the Archaic 6. Isthmia VIII, pp. 172–173, nos. F26–F31, pls. 72, 73. 7. In contrast, the only preserved bronze figurine of a horse at Isthmia has been dated to the Late Geometric period, based on comparisons with examples from Olympia: Isthmia VII, pp. 2, 5, no. 8, pl. 2. Two identical late6th-century b.c. bronze horse heads belonged to a tripod or a vessel: Isthmia VII, pp. 93, 95–96, no. 326A, B, pl. 54.

8. Isthmia VIII, pp. 169–173, nos. F9–F25, F32, pls. 70–73. 9. Isthmia VIII, pp. 169, 171, no. F21, pl. 72. 10. Attested not least by the terracotta figurines; cf. Gebhard 2002a. Despite all of the chronological problems still to be solved (see below), there can be little doubt that the 6th century b.c. produced more figurines at Isthmia than any other century.

c Figure 7.1. Horses and riders: (a) iM 1133, horse and rider, ca. mid6th century b.c.; (b) iM 5773, fragment of a rider, early 6th century b.c.; (c) iM 3112, leg fragment of a horse, probably 4th century b.c. Scale 1:1. Photos G. Waller

riding for poseidon

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c Figure 7.2. animal figurines: (a) iM 1104, bull, probably late 8th century b.c.; (b) iM 2434, bull, late 6th century b.c.; (c) iM 1155, dog, probably first half of 6th century b.c.; (d) iM 2457bis, bird, probably 5th century b.c. Scale 1:1, except where

indicated. Photos (a) Isthmia VIII, pl. 72; (b–d) G. Waller

11. The bull figurines in bronze present a somewhat different situation, appearing only around 700 b.c. and continuing well into the 5th century, according to Raubitschek’s dates: Isthmia VII, pp. 4–5, nos. 1–7, pl. 1; no. 4, unusually, is made from gold leaf, not bronze. See now an image of several Isthmian bronze figurines and a separate

d period.11 The horse-and-rider took over as the figurine of choice, and continued so into the 4th century. As both bulls and horses can be linked to Poseidon,12 the master of the sanctuary, it is interesting that the preference for one over the other changed during the Archaic period. Some other species of animals are rather well represented as well, namely dogs (e.g., Fig. 7.2:c) and birds (e.g., Fig. 7.2:d), although dogs are hard to distinguish from horses if the head is missing. It is not known if any specific meaning was attached to these species in the context of the sanctuary. The two groups number about a dozen examples each. The 24 boats or boat fragments make up a comparatively uncommon group. Among the more familiar types, the unusually elaborate example IM 2580 + IM 2641 (Fig. 7.3:a) and the canoe-like IM 2429 (Fig. 7.3:b) are not recorded elsewhere. The group seems to range in date from the late 7th to the late 6th century.13 Their presence in such numbers at Isthmia, while rare in other places, must be related to the role of Poseidon as god and master of the sea. Human figures other than riders appear at Isthmia, but compared to the numbers in other well-known sanctuaries, they are strikingly rare. It photograph of the gold bull in Valavanis 2004, pp. 278–279, figs. 388, 390. 12. See the discussion in Isthmia VIII, pp. 333–335. Adding to her comparisons, both animals were also represented among the earliest (bronze as well as terracotta) figurines at the important sanctuary of Poseidon at Kalaureia: see Wide and Kjellberg

1895, and for the resumed research in Kalaureia, most recently, Penttinen and Wells 2009. More general meanings of bulls and horses alike are discussed by Himmelmann 2002, pp. 94–95. 13. Again, an example in bronze can be compared to the terracotta figurines. It is dated to the 6th century as well: Isthmia VII, p. 10, no. 36, pl. 7.

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b is noteworthy that the human figurines were found nearly as often outside the central sanctuary as they were within, a ratio unparalleled by any other typological group. Males are particularly rare, though there are interesting objects among them such as the leg of a small terracotta kouros (Fig. 7.4:a),14 or a sitting figure of the well-known “temple boy” type from the 4th century b.c.15 More numerous are the females. The number of moldmade female figurines surpasses the handmade ones. They constitute the second largest group of figurine types, following the horses and riders. This holds true only if we count the items that were found outside the sanctuary, namely in the Rachi settlement,16 where the production of figurines is suggested by the presence of a few molds.17 In at least one case, an affiliation is probable between a fragment from the sanctuary and two others found on the Rachi (Fig. 7.4:b).18 To summarize, horses, or horses and riders, make up about half of the entire assemblage; there are a considerable number of rare Archaic boat models; and human figures are comparatively rare, as are moldmade figurines in general. Chronologically, the bulk of the material ranges from 14. Among the metal statuettes, Archaic male figures, of the kouros type and others, are comparatively numerous: Isthmia VII, pp. 6–7, nos. 14–17, pl. 3. Most related to the terracotta figurines as inexpensive offerings might be a kouros statuette unusually made of lead: Isthmia VII, p. 6, no. 14, pl. 3. This lead kouros is of additional interest as it connects with the neighboring panhellenic sanctuary at Nemea where a “brother” out of the same mold has been found; see Miller 1978, p. 63, pl. 14:a (Nemea IL 201). 15. See Mitten 1966. 16. The terracotta figurines from the Rachi serve the present author only as comparanda, as they will be published

by Virginia Anderson-Stojanović in her forthcoming volume on the Rachi settlement and the shrine preceding it, which will incorporate all classes of material found at this site. On some terracotta figurines from the Rachi, see preliminarily Anderson-Stojanović 2002, pp. 80–83. I want to express my thanks to her for making this unpublished material available to me, as well as for helpful discussions. 17. See Anderson-Stojanović 2002, pp. 80–82, figs. 13, 19. 18. IM 5759 (Fig. 7.4:b; AndersonStojanović 2002, p. 81, fig. 15), from the Rachi, preserves more of the figurine type than the other examples. IM 3697, from the Rachi as well, is a leg fragment from what should be an

Figure 7.3. Boats: (a) iM 2580 + iM 2641, warship, mid-6th century b.c.; (b) iM 2429, boat, 6th century b.c. Scale 1:1. Photos G. Waller

earlier generation replica. Of this same, earlier, generation, IM 3676 represents the separately molded pedestal with the feet of the figurine. IM 3676 was found in the Eastern Terrace (Terrace 7, construction level); see Gebhard and Hemans 1998, pp. 43–48 (IM 3676 on p. 46) and Isthmia VIII, p. 17 (Gebhard). That the pedestal and legs belong together is illustrated by IM 5759, which also shows clear signs of the separate manufacture of the two parts still joined. This is further corroborated by the appearance of the breaks on both IM 3676 and IM 3697. Mitten already noticed the closeness of the three objects, without outlining further implications.

riding for poseidon

Figure 7.4. Human figures: (a) iM 5776, leg fragment of a kouros, 6th century b.c.; (b) iM 5759, bottom half of a standing woman from the rachi, 5th to early 4th century b.c. Scale 1:1. Photos (a) F. Nesbitt; (b) G. Waller

a

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b

Late Geometric to Classical times; the later phases of the sanctuary are barely represented among the votive terracotta figurines. The assemblage, with its predominance of handmade figurines, is small and rather modest in quality. Compared with the thousands of terracottas recovered from some other sanctuaries in the Corinthia,19 the 600-plus figurines recovered from Isthmia seem relatively few. The overwhelming preponderance of small and simple handmade figurines might appear prominent due to the fact that large and elaborate moldmade ones, so frequently offered at other sanctuaries, are underrepresented. This relative weighting may have an impact on the interpretation of the role of terracotta figurines in ritual practices at the sanctuary at Isthmia. Thus, sanctuaries such as the one of Demeter and Kore at Corinth can serve as comparanda mainly to mark the differences; for similarities, we have to look elsewhere.

tH e i s tH Mia F i Gu ri n es in Con text The most noteworthy characteristic at Isthmia is the predominance of horse, or horse-and-rider, figurines (Figs. 7.1, 7.6). While they are common enough virtually everywhere in Archaic Greece, maybe even more so in the northeastern Peloponnese,20 Isthmia is the rare example of a major sanctuary where they predominate, in contrast to the more usual preference for a variety of human, usually female, figures. This comparison holds true particularly for most of the important neighboring sanctuaries in the Corinthia, Argolid, and Arkadia.21 But there is one exception, 19. Acrocorinth, Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore: more than 24,000 terracotta figurines (Corinth XVIII.4, p. 1). Perachora: more than 1,500 terracotta figurines reported (Perachora I, p. 191); note that, given the common practice at the time, a significant num-

ber of smaller fragments were probably not even recorded. 20. For the figurines from sanctuaries in the Argolid, see nn. 28, 29, below. 21. Apart from the Corinthian sanctuaries mentioned in n. 19, above, see also, e.g., the sanctuary at Ayios Sostis

near Tegea with 1,700 terracotta figurines ( Jost 1985, p. 155, pl. 39) or the Argive Heraion with “2,865 figures . . . not counting the ordinary figures of animals and small objects” (Argive Heraeum II, p. 3).

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and it is important: the neighboring panhellenic sanctuary at Nemea. It offers a close parallel to Isthmia. The total number of terracotta figurines unearthed there is apparently even lower than at Isthmia.22 Among this number, horse-and-rider figurines are prominent, maybe even predominant.23 Similarly, at Olympia, at least a preference for animals can be seen in the early votive assemblage.24 The total number of figurines at Olympia is greater than that at Isthmia, but the comparison may be distorted by the unusually large group of Geometric and Early Archaic objects.25 Thus, sanctuaries with panhellenic games might share common characteristics in their assemblages of terracotta figurines. On another level, a local Corinthian parallel in some respects is offered by the roadside “hero” shrines in and around the city of Corinth.26 In any case, the preference for horses and riders at Isthmia must be significant in some way. No less than 40% of the inventoried figurines—255 out of 628—are horses or horse fragments; the percentage is even higher when figurines found outside the temenos are excluded. In light of this ratio, a particular connection with the specific cult at Isthmia—though not necessarily with Poseidon27—should hold true, in spite of the fact that the horse-and-rider motif enjoys general popularity in the northeastern Peloponnese. In addition to Nemea, horsemen play an important role at the Argive Heraion28 as well as at several other shrines in the Argolid.29 They occur in fair numbers at Perachora,30 and in the Demeter and Kore sanctuary at Corinth.31 At Isthmia, however, their predominance remains conspicuous.

22. Only a very limited number of figurines are mentioned and preliminarily published in the excavation reports; see Miller 1988, p. 1, n. 1, for a list of the reports. This impression cannot be entirely misleading even after the resumed excavations of more recent years, which were not reported in the same regular manner, since the highest inventory number of a published figurine to my knowledge is TC 274, while the terracotta inventory comprises not only figurines but also technical terracotta items such as water pipes or casting molds for bronze statues. TC 274 is the centaur from the shrine of Opheltes (Miller 2002, pp. 244, 246, figs. 16, 17). 23. A large number of them have been found in a 5th-century b.c. deposit just north of the temple (Miller 1981, p. 55, pl. 16:b). For an example from the heroon, see Miller 1981, p. 64, pl. 23:g. Several more single examples could be quoted from the reports, as in n. 22, above. See also

Miller 1990, p. 32. 24. See Heilmeyer 1972, 2002. For terracotta figurines in the early history of Olympia, see now as well the publication of the Pelopion excavation: Kyrieleis 2006, pp. 85–90, 102– 118. 25. Cf. Heilmeyer 2002, p. 86: “über 2.000 Terrakotten”—citing “frühe” votive figurines only. “Früh” must signify “not later than the 7th century b.c.,” when the practice of offering terracotta figurines comes to an end at the altar of Zeus; this puzzling fact is stated explicitly by Kyrieleis (2006, p. 47). Himmelmann (2002, p. 94) mentions a general decline of the offering of (bronze) horse figurines in the 7th century b.c. 26. Williams 1981; Bookidis 2003, pp. 251–253. The shrine at Kokkinovrysi, in some aspects peculiar, has recently been studied by Theodora B. Kopestonsky, who in 2009 completed an M.A. thesis on the topic (Kopestonsky 2009). I express my heartfelt grati-

tude for interesting and helpful discussions with her. 27. But see Himmelmann (2002, pp. 94–95, with fig. 6, n. 11), who quotes the example of a dedication to Poseidon for “die an diesen Plätzen mit dem Thema verbundene religiöse Bedeutung” of horse figurine votives from the 7th century b.c. on. 28. See Argive Heraeum II, pp. 40– 41, nos. 244–249, pl. XLVIII. Hall (1995, p. 597, table 1) even suggests horse-and-rider figurines as one of several “diagnostic artefacts” for cults of Hera. This calls for questioning, particularly given the Isthmian—and even closer, Nemean—counter evidence. 29. Cf. Hall 1995, p. 601 (passim for references). 30. See Perachora I, pp. 228–229, nos. 166–169, pl. 100. 31. I am grateful to Susan Langdon (pers. comm.) for informing me about the prevalence of horsemen at this sanctuary.

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Figure 7.5. nude obese seated woman from the sacred Glen, iM 2869, 4th to 3rd century b.c. Scale 1:1. Photo

G. Waller

32. For the outlying parts of the Isthmian sanctuary and the Sacred Glen, see Gebhard 1993a, pp. 154–156, based on Isthmia II, pp. 113–116; Isthmia IV, p. 116, n. 84. On the location and the finds, see also AndersonStojanović 2002, p. 75. 33. The inscription, presumably from Isthmia, is now in the Lapidarium in Verona; see Geagan 1989 and Sturgeon, Chapter 10 in this volume. 34. Caskey 1960, pp. 168–172, no. 1, fig. 1, pls. 54, 55 (IP 384). 35. Isthmia IV, pp. 114–116, no. 25, pl. 54:a (IS 254; IΣ 316 for the inscribed base). 36. See further Gebhard 1993a, p. 173, n. 5; Isthmia II, plan I. 37. Isthmia II, p. 113.

Within the Isthmian material itself, we have a distinct group of figurines, found in an area several hundred meters west of the main temenos, that can serve as a control on our interpretation of the material from the main temenos. Broneer identified the area as the “Sacred Glen” or ἱερὰ νάπη,32 which is cited in a 2nd-century a.d. inscription listing the benefactions of P. Licinius Priscus Iuventianus (IG IV 203).33 Among his other euergetic deeds, he built a peribolos with a temple of Demeter, as well as another temple(s), in the Sacred Glen. The location of Iuventianus’s temples has not been identified but an area sacred to Demeter in the 4th century b.c. near the Temple of Poseidon is suggested by the discovery of a skyphoid krater in a well about 200–300 m west-southwest of the main temenos with an inscribed dedication to the goddess.34 A second inscribed dedication was found a bit further west during plowing: this statue of a girl with a goose,35 of similar date, carries an inscription that Kleo dedicated it to Demeter. These inscriptions contributed to Broneer adopting the term “Sacred Glen” for this area.36 In the vicinity of the reported findspot of the girl-and-goose statue, a limited excavation revealed Greek structures “appropriate to some industrial establishment” rather than to a cult place.37 Seventeen terracotta figurines were recovered in the fills. With the explicit votive offerings found nearby, the terracotta figurines, as well as some other material in the fills, may point to the presence of a shrine in the area.38 These figurines present an assemblage entirely different from those found in the main temenos.39 Of the 17 figurines and one relief plaque, only four are animals: three are horses, one with clear sign of an attached rider, the fourth is unidentifiable.40 Of the 13 humans, 9 are females.41 At least four of the latter are of the common type of a standing, hollow moldmade female. Others are interesting for their iconography. The strangest is a nude and fairly obese42 woman sitting on a klismos (IM 2869, Fig. 7.5). She recalls, in general 38. The majority of the other finds from the Sacred Glen, e.g., 26 loomweights, are not specifically votive in character. Ceramics include fine wares and kitchen wares. Of the three small fragments of statues, two of marble (IS 392, IS 393) and one of bronze (IM 2728), only IS 392 is published (Isthmia IV, p. 149, no. 99, pl. 74:a, b.) It is a small hand holding an object, probably a fillet. Mary Sturgeon proposed “a young child, perhaps a girl, presenting a votive offering to Demeter.” No date given. IS 393 is a small fragment of drapery found in the vicinity. A small fragment of a bronze statue (IM 2728) is listed in Isthmia VII, p. 163. Another object that points to the possible sacred nature of the area is

the rim fragment of a clay perirrhanterion (IP 7302, unpublished). 39. The date of the assemblage may account for some of the differences. While Archaic figurines predominate in the temple temenos, the Sacred Glen fills have produced figurines that are, in all but one case, probably to be dated to the 5th century and later. 40. Animals: IM 2617, 2872, 2873, 5272 (IM 5272 is not a horse). 41. Females: IM 823, 2614, 2753, 2862, 2869, 2870, 2874, 5263, 5291. Males: IM 2871, 2881, 3483, 3511. 42. Former commenters sometimes referred to her as pregnant, but the two markedly separate belly rolls and the sagging breasts rather support the impression of an old and obese woman.

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terms, the “Trunkene Alte” motif.43 Another possible comparison is offered from Priene by a significant quantity of willfully obscene female terracotta figurines, such as the (wrongly) entitled Baubo figures,44 found especially in the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore. One of the male figurines in the Sacred Glen is probably a Papposilenos carrying a child, while two of the very fragmented pieces might be reconstructed as reclining banqueters. Of the shrines in the Sacred Glen listed in IG IV 203 there is a temple of Dionysos (with Kore and Artemis).45 The figurines are a welcome addition to the votive collection that points to a shrine to Demeter, and possibly to Dionysos as well, in the area that may be associated with the Sacred Glen. Small as the collection in the Sacred Glen is, it is quite similar in its range of types to assemblages from larger sanctuaries, usually of female deities. It also resembles in general lines the collection from the Rachi, where another sanctuary of Demeter has been recognized.46 It differs strikingly, however, from the assemblage from the main temenos, dominated by horses and riders. This contrast again emphasizes the particular characteristics of the figurine assemblage at the Sanctuary of Poseidon.

Figure 7.6. the development of horse figurines: (a) iM 3580, horse fragment, probably late 7th century b.c.; (b) iM 5726, horse fragment, probably early 6th century b.c.; (c) iM 5857, horse-and-rider fragment, mid- or third quarter of 6th century b.c.; (d) iM 5811, horse-and-rider fragment, probably late 6th century b.c.; (e) iM 6037, horse-and-rider fragment, probably early 5th century b.c.; (f ) Corinth, Potters’ quarter Kt 1928.47, Late Group horse and rider, late 5th to 4th century b.c.

Scale 1:1. Photos (a) S. Strack; (b, c) G. Waller; (d, e) A. Thomsen; (f ) I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti, courtesy Corinth Excavations

CH ro noLo Gy Horses, as they are the most common type recovered, should be our primary consideration in questions concerning chronology. Given that most of the contexts at Isthmia provide only an approximate terminus ante quem but rarely a close dating, a typological and stylistic approach may prove helpful, difficult as it is with handmade figurines of types that have such an extended lifespan. Among the horses, two major groups can be distinguished quite easily: first, the figurines of early and middle Archaic date (e.g., Fig. 7.6:a), which usually exhibit quite individual characteristics, and second, a group of mostly “standardized” horses close to the “Late Group” figurines, established in the Potters’ Quarter at Corinth as a lingering archaistic type of 5th- and 4th-century date (e.g., Fig. 7.6:e).47 Nevertheless, if we compare a typical Late Group horse from the Potters’ Quarter (Fig. 7.6:f ) with an Isthmian horse like IM 6037 (Fig. 7.6:e), we note some differences. While the Late Group horses usually are overly simplified, IM 6037 has a body articulated in a far more detailed manner, with the sagging back and arching tail as well as the curved flanks and the protruding hips reminiscent of truly Archaic forms. Also, the rider sits more distant from the neck than is typical in the Late Group. The Late Group figurines from the Potters’ Quarter present us with a standardized and simplified type that appears rather suddenly, only distantly related to the much more individualized and original horses of earlier Archaic times. I suggest that at Isthmia we can follow the development toward these standardized, or, if I may borrow the term, “conventionalized,”48 figurines more closely. I date the horse IM 6037, mentioned above, to the 5th century, though rather in the first half of the century. Compared to the horse figurine IM 5811 (Fig. 7.6:d), closely related in many details, IM 6037, although of less careful workmanship, has a more harmonized and unified body. This is seen particularly in the smooth rendering of the join between the torso

43. See Zanker 1989. 44. Rumscheid 2006, pp. 220–223. 45. Acccording to the spacing in the inscription, a break between Demeter and Kore suggests that Kore was worshipped along with the deities that follow, Dionysos and Artemis; Geagan 1989, p. 353. 46. Anderson-Stojanović 2002. 47. See Corinth XV.2, pp. 167–171, 174–176, nos. 23–36, pls. 37–39. 48. Borrowed from the term for classifying the Corinthian pottery styles following Payne’s Late Corinthian (I) (and classed by him as LC II and III; Payne 1931, pp. 331–338), used first by Agnes Newhall Stillwell (Newhall 1931, p. 16). See Corinth VII.5, pp. 1–3. The borrowing seems justified as the main lines of development within the two major categories of clay products can be paralleled well in this period. I thank Martha Risser for help and discussion.

riding for poseidon

a

b

c

d

e

f

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and the legs, which are connected in a single, continuous curve. IM 5811, on the other hand, carries its legs rather like an addition to the body, not an organic part of it. This change might bridge the transition from the Late Archaic, as represented by IM 5811, to the Early Classical period, as represented by IM 6037 or the closely related fragment IM 5949.49 At a somewhat earlier point in the development, the compact, stocky horse IM 5857 (Fig. 7.6:c) has more in common with these later figurines than with the early-6th-century types like IM 5726 (Fig. 7.6:b). The early6th-century figurines have a virtually cylindrical body, with limbs attached in a purely additive manner, often at a right angle to the body. In contrast to the later examples, however, IM 5857 is distinctively more archaic in showing the vital joints of the body; the hips are rendered in an extremely prominent way, nearly in isolation. I therefore take IM 5857 to be situated around 550 b.c., close to the beginning of a phase of redefinition of the shape of the horse figurine, which eventually leads to the standardized horse that was mass-produced in the Potters’ Quarter’s Late Group. Typical Late Group horse fragments (Fig. 7.7) are rare at Isthmia. The chronological significance of such tiny differences within a group of items may be overstated here, since they share many features over a very long period. On the other hand, the sequence of development corresponds to what we know from other classes of artifacts, which in the mid-6th century undergo an experimental stage—both in terms of iconography as well as shape—before evolving into the canonical, standardized form that we know from the Classical period. “Classical,” however, takes on a rather basic appearance when applied to our Isthmian terracotta horse figurines. 49. A similar development toward “naturalism” (a term I tend to avoid) has been suggested by Pisani for Boiotian horse-and-rider figurines of the 6th century b.c. In her discussion of several examples in the collection of the

British School at Athens, she refers to parallels in dated grave contexts: see Pisani 2006, p. 278. I am grateful to Susan Langdon for directing my attention to this study.

Figure 7.7. typical Late Group horse fragment, iM 5260, probably second half of 5th century b.c. Scale 1:1. Photo

G. Waller

c hap ter 8

th e C h i g i Pai n t e r at i st h m ia? by K. W. Arafat

My work at Isthmia concerns the pottery of ca. 700–550 b.c., most of it Protocorinthian and Corinthian.1 Of the thousands of kilos of pottery the site has produced from that period, I discuss here just a few grams’ worth, in the form of five fragments of a Late Protocorinthian, that is, mid-7thcentury, alabastron (Fig. 8.1).

oiL Ves s eLs at i s tH Mi a

1. I thank Elizabeth Gebhard and Timothy Gregory for the invitation to participate in the Athens conference in June 2007 at which the paper from which this chapter is derived was first presented. I am grateful to John Oakley and Charles K. Williams II for comments made at that time. In October 2007, I gave a revised version of the paper to the Greek Archaeology Group at Oxford, and I thank Norbert Kunisch and Thomas Mannack for discussion on that occasion. I am also grateful to Hans van Wees for discussion of Archaic warfare.

Before I discuss the alabastron in detail, some general observations on oil vessels at Isthmia during the Archaic period are in order. These vessels are plentiful thoughout the site, with particular concentrations in and around the Archaic Temple, in the terraces formed from debris from the temple, and in the Large Circular Pit, discussed briefly below and in detail by Martha Risser in Chapter 5 of this volume. Their frequency and distribution suggest that most were dedications, although some might have been lost personal possessions. After the kotyle, essential for the drinking that accompanied feasting, the conical oinochoe is the next best represented shape in the Archaic period at Isthmia. Its solidity of construction and generally small size may bias its survival rate, but in quantity it outweighs all shapes bar the kotyle by some distance. The conical oinochoe was an oil container, an offering vessel with very little evidence for its use in burials, and with no practical purpose in a feasting or drinking context. Its main function would have been in dedications or ritual. The prime witness to its purpose is the well-known wooden plaque from Pitsa in the Corinthia of around the third quarter of the 6th century, on which a conical oinochoe is depicted being carried on a tray at the head of a sacrificial procession. The popularity of the conical oinochoe, which had appeared in the 8th century, mirrors a general increase in the number of offering vessels that had become apparent before, and continued into, the Archaic period at Isthmia. The aryballos, the most characteristic of Archaic Corinthian shapes, is as well represented at Isthmia as one would expect. It is a new shape at Isthmia in the Early Protocorinthian period (ca. 720–690), and there is a

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notable growth in numbers from the earliest globular form to the Middle Protocorinthian conical, and, especially, the ovoid, when the shape peaks. There is something of a reduction in the numbers of pointed aryballoi, which is intriguing as this covers Late Protocorinthian to Transitional, or ca. 650–625, the quarter century or so after the completion of the temple, just the time when one might have expected a growth in visitors and in the use and dedication of small unguent bottles such as aryballoi. The round aryballos of Early Corinthian to Late Corinthian I (ca. 625– 550) was very common in Corinth and in areas under Corinthian influence, such as Perachora; one would, therefore, expect Isthmia’s proximity to Corinth to make it even likelier that the aryballos would be well represented there. Further, any association of the aryballos with athletics would be expected to be apparent at Isthmia of all sites, since it became one of the four sites of the athletic periodos following the institution of the games. In terms of numbers, one might feel this expectation justified, since we have 168 inventoried examples and just over 1,000 uninventoried, all fragmentary and some extremely so, with a further 80 fragments which may also be from aryballoi. One might further expect there to be a rise in the use of the aryballos in the years following the institution of the games, but if the games were indeed instituted in the 550s that is not the case, as we have many fewer Late Corinthian I than Middle Corinthian examples. What happens in ceramic terms after 550 at Isthmia is being documented by Martha Risser, and a fuller picture will emerge from both of our studies in due course. Finally in this brief survey of oil vessels, I turn to the alabastron, the shape of the Late Protocorinthian fragments that are the subject of this study. I mention some aspects of the early history of the shape below; here I note only that it is rare until the Transitional period, which is represented at Isthmia by 10 examples (although some small fragments may also belong). As one would expect of the shape Payne called the “favourite form” of Early Corinthian,2 numbers rise sharply at Isthmia during this period, and the great majority of alabastra at Isthmia belong to this period. There are few certain, or likely, Middle Corinthian alabastra, but it is, I think, relevant that Payne found it hard to assign many alabastra to Middle Corinthian, seeing the type as essentially Early Corinthian and continuing, mostly unchanged, into the 6th century.3 Certainly, it appears that Isthmia has produced none of the characteristically large alabastra of the Middle Corinthian period.

tH e aLaBastron The fragmentary Late Protocorinthian alabastron that I briefly introduced at the start of this chapter comes from the Large Circular Pit, at the southwest of the sanctuary. The pit, which measures nearly 20 m deep and some 5 m across, was apparently planned as a well, but used as a reservoir. It was filled some time after the burning of the Archaic Temple ca. 460–450, but before the burning of the Classical Temple in 390, prob-

2. Payne 1931, p. 281. 3. Payne 1931, pp. 281, 285.

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a

b c Figure 8.1. Late Protocorinthian alabastron from isthmia: (a) iP 3172 + iP 3260a, b; (b) iP 3290; (c) iP 8450. Scale 1:1. Drawings K. Neeft, photos M. Bootsman. Courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

4. Risser, Chapter 5 in this volume. 5. Arafat 1999, p. 59. 6. Amyx 1988, p. 438. On the early alabastron, see also Payne 1931, pp. 269–271; Perachora II, pp. 25–26. 7. I thank Stella Bouzaki, the former Corinth and Isthmia conservator, for examining the sherds. She estimated the probability of identity at 95%.

ably around 420.4 Of the five fragments, four were excavated from the pit in 1958–1960, although only two of them were recognized at the time as coming from the same alabastron. Subsequently, I found and recognized as joining the fifth fragment, the sliver with the upper part of a figure, in a lot of uncertain provenience marked “removed from Nounou box. Contents suggest Pit, 7/84.” Given the close similarity of the contents of the lot with the material from the pit, and the rarity of joins of Archaic pottery between the pit and the rest of the sanctuary—I have found only four5—there is no reason to doubt that this fifth fragment is indeed from the pit. The pieces concerned are from different parts of the vase: the three joining sherds (IP 3172 + IP 3260a, b) form part of the mouthplate, the entire handle, and neck to shoulder (Fig. 8.1:a); IP 3290 is a mid- to lower body fragment (Fig. 8.1:b), while IP 8450 is from midbody to base, preserving part of the central depression (Fig. 8.1:c). With the exception of the three upper fragments, they do not join, raising the question of their identity as one vase. However, the rarity of the shape at this period—only some two dozen are known in Protocorinthian6—as well as of this quality and type of decoration, leaves very little doubt indeed: to put it another way, it is far less likely that we have parts—and different parts—of two, or even three, such alabastra in one deposit, than that we have three parts of the same alabastron. In addition to the evidence of their shape and decoration, which is as consistent as it is exceptional, microscopic examination of the fabric gives a very high probability of identity.7 The case seems to me (to borrow a term from the British legal system) proven beyond reasonable doubt. I have no qualms, therefore, in saying that this is one alabastron.

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k . w. a r a fat Figure 8.2 (left). Protocorinthian alabastron, London BM 1860,0201.30. H. 5.8 cm. Courtesy Trustees of the British Museum

Figure 8.3 (right). transitional alabastron, isthmia iP 1803a–c + iP 2428. H. 8.8 cm. Photo M. Bootsman,

courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

The mouthplate of the Isthmia example is slightly concave, leading to the mouth itself. There is no edge preserved, but the mouthplate does not appear to be beveled like the earliest examples,8 and the concave profile would argue against beveling. The handle is high and angular, with a small neat hole. A high proportion of the Protocorinthian alabastra either have no handle or have sharply angled handles,9 in contrast to the Isthmia alabastron. A contemporary alabastron in the British Museum10 (Fig. 8.2) has a similar, if flatter, mouthplate, but less angled handle, bringing it closer to the Isthmia one. It was dated by Payne to late Middle Protocorinthian, although Dunbabin and Benson both placed it in Late Protocorinthian. The end of this sequence is exemplified by an alabastron in Syracuse.11 In comparison to the earliest alabastra, the Isthmia mouthplate has gained height and is recognizably an early version of the type that is standard from Transitional onward. The handle has lost its angularity in favor of a rounded profile. It appears, however, that the angled handle was used in parallel with the more gently curving one, to judge from the second-earliest alabastron at Isthmia, datable to the Transitional period and unique in its decoration, quartered from top to toe by alternating black and red stripes (Fig. 8.3).12 The body profile of the Isthmia alabastron is stout, flaring from the underside of the mouthplate, the “fat body” that Amyx13 describes as typical of Late Protocorinthian alabastra. 8. The earliest of all alabastra is probably Corinth VII.2, pp. 12–13, no. 1, pl. 1, which is a body fragment and so irrelevant for present purposes. 9. E.g., Perachora II, pp. 25–26, nos. 111–115, pls. 2, 3, have no handle preserved. Early alabastra with angled handles include Basel, Cahn (Benson 1989, p. 211, fig. 3, pl. 69, dated Middle Protocorinthian); Ascona Market, formerly Basel, Erlenmeyer (Benson 1956, pp. 221–222, figs. 4–6, pl. 68; 1989,

p. 44, dated Late Protocorinthian [his phrasing implying that he does not see it as late in this period]; Neeft 1991, p. 84, no. 5); Athens, from Bassai (Kourouniotes 1910, col. 288, fig. 8; Payne 1931, p. 270, no. 19; Amyx 1988, p. 285, n. 2; Benson 1989, p. 71, assigned to his Group of Louvre A 439). The development of the handle is briefly summarized by Amyx (1988, p. 438). On alabastra with no handle, see FdD V.1, pp. 153–154, noting that

the type is confined to Protocorinthian. 10. London 1860,0201.30. Johansen 1923, pl. 38:2; Payne 1931, pl. 3:3 (drawing); Amyx 1988, p. 438; Benson 1989, p. 53; Burn 1991, p. 34, fig. 22 (left); Bird 2003, fig. 76. 11. Syracuse, Fusco grave 430 (inv. 13818). Johansen 1923, pl. 38:3; Payne 1931, p. 271, no. 25; Amyx 1988, p. 43, no. AP-2. 12. Isthmia IP 1803a–c + IP 2428. 13. Amyx 1988, p. 438.

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Figure 8.4. Detail of the Chigi vase, Villa Giulia 22679. Courtesy Soprinten-

De Corat ion an D CoMP os i t i on

14. An example is Benson 1956, pl. 68:5, cited in n. 9, above. 15. Amyx 1988, pp. 31–33, 369– 370; Benson 1989, pp. 56–58. 16. Villa Giulia 22679. CVA, Villa Giulia [Italy 1], pls. 1–4. 17. Berlin V.I. 3773. Payne 1933, pl. 23:1–3. 18. London 1889,0418.1. Amyx 1988, pl. 11:1a, b.

Although some of the details are lost through wear, sufficient features of the decoration are preserved to place the Isthmia alabastron in context. Several factors suggest Late Protocorinthian of high quality, including the form of the handle and of the palmette chain, as well as the combination of outline and black figure. On the upper fragment, IP 3172 + IP 3260a, b (Fig. 8.1:a), the top of the mouthplate is decorated with small, careful strokes, the paint mostly worn light brown, with two black strokes. The back of the handle has a vertical broken meander. Pattern is not commonly used on the back of the handles of alabastra,14 although this is a standard feature on the wider handles of Protocorinthian aryballoi. On the neck is an elaborate chain of alternately inverted lotus and palmette in outline. The incised crosshatched section is prominently placed at the front of the vase, opposite the handle. The use of outline florals, often volutes and palmettes as here, is very common on small unguent vases, aryballoi and alabastra, of Middle and Late Protocorinthian, and the triple line that links the palmettes is characteristic of the finest vases of the period, including three vases agreed to be the work of the supreme Protocorinthian artist, the Chigi Painter.15 Of these, the pattern occurs twice on the name-vase, the Chigi olpe in Rome (Fig. 8.4),16 although its form is not a close parallel to the Isthmia alabastron. More relevant are the palmette chains on the two aryballoi by the Chigi Painter, one in Berlin,17 the other, the Macmillan aryballos in London18 (Fig. 8.5). Our pattern, which is one of the more complex, has no duplicate, perhaps unsurprisingly in view of the considerable number of variations that were used. Perhaps fittingly, its closest parallel is not on the work of the Chigi Painter but on another Late Protocorinthian alabastron, namely, the one in London mentioned above (Fig. 8.2). Below the floral is a band, then a man facing left, whom I shall refer to as figure A. His head, shoulders to midback, and upper arms are preserved. This figure is almost upright, the slight concavity of the upper back evening

denza per i Beni Archeologici dell’Etruria Meridionale, photo no. 213440

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out by the lower break, and his arms are brought forward. He is in black figure, with incised hairline (forehead to chin), mouth, and eye (the latter distorted by damage to the surface of the vase). Also incised are the contour of the left arm and the shoulder of the right. There is purple-red paint on his chest and shoulder. The height of this figure as preserved is 0.9 cm; a restored height of 2 cm for the entire figure can be deduced. The fragment IP 3290 (Fig. 8.1:b) is from mid- to lower body and shows part of a duel: at the left, figure B, preserved from the waist down, runs to the right. Behind him, at an angle, is the lower part of a scabbard or the sword itself. His chitoniskos has a double incised hem, and the contour of his left, or forward, leg and foot are incised, as are inner details of his right, or back, leg. To the right is a second figure, C, preserved from the shoulders down. He is also wearing a chitoniskos with double incisions at the hem and at both shoulders. There is red paint on his chest. He has fallen back and is sitting up. B has felled C, probably with a diagonal spear thrust toward his throat, just above the upper break. A horizontal spear thrust would have been parallel with C’s waist and thus preserved. It is possible that a sword was used—in which case it would certainly be a scabbard that projects behind B—but characteristically, as van Wees has observed, Protocorinthian duels feature spears, not swords like their Geometric counterparts.19 Van Wees has also stressed the “closeness to Homer” of Protocorinthian depictions of warfare, observing, for example, that in the Iliad, “heroes use spears nine times as often as swords.”20 Similarly, Krentz has observed that “Archaic Greeks fought according to the conventions found in Homer.”21 Another feature of our alabastron is, I believe, pertinent here: C is crumpled to the ground, seated with his left leg stretched out in front of him, his right bent under him, and his lower leg and foot shown between his thigh and the foot of B. The incisions on the contours of the forward leg of B are primarily for the purpose of distinguishing it from the outstretched leg of C, which it overlaps. C’s arms are widespread, one stretched behind him, presumably leaning on the ground or possibly on a discarded shield, the other touching the knee of B in a gesture that I believe to be supplication, familiar from Homer onward. This interpretation is not without difficulties. It is possible that the outstretched hand of C is simply overlapped by the leg of B, rather than actually touching it, but the lack of incision here (perhaps caused partly by the state of preservation) allows either interpretation. In addition, as will be noted below, the overlapping legs of B and C are differentiated by incision, whereas the hand of C is not marked off from the leg of B by incision, suggesting that overlapping is not intended. It might also be argued that the hand of C is rather high on the leg of B to be touching the knee. I would be wary of being anatomically overprecise, especially on this small scale and in the absence of incised detail to help. Finally, as far as I can tell, there is no parallel for this gesture of supplication in Corinthian vase painting; indeed, I have not been able to find one in Archaic vase painting elsewhere. But this, like the other doubts raised, does not seem to me a reason to dismiss the gesture as one of supplication—after all, unique features are characteristic of the finest vases of this period. If the gesture on the Isthmia alabastron is one of supplication, it supports the Homeric mood mentioned above. In his recent book on sup-

Figure 8.5. Macmillan aryballos, London BM 1889,0418.1. H. 7 cm. Courtesy Trustees of the British Museum

19. Van Wees 2000, p. 142. 20. Van Wees 2000, p. 148. 21. Krentz 2002, p. 37; cf. p. 23, “Archaic Greeks probably fought by the limited protocols found in Homer.”

t h e c h i g i pa i n t e r at i s t h m i a ?

Figure 8.6. Detail of the Chigi vase, Villa Giulia 22679. Courtesy Soprintendenza per i Beni Archeologici dell’Etruria Meridionale, photo no. 125421

22. Naiden 2006, p. 45. 23. Gould 1973, p. 76. 24. Naiden 2006, p. 45.

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plication, Naiden notes the high proportion of suppliants in Homer using the gesture of touching the knees.22 Indeed, Gould says that of the various supplicatory gestures used in Homer, “only touching the knee is found exclusively in the act of supplication.”23 And, as Naiden says, “warriors use this gesture to avoid being slain.”24 This, I suggest, is what is being depicted on our alabastron. Although supplication does not mean the scene need be specifically Homeric, or even mythological, it raises the quality and the heroic temper of the piece to the level of the best of the midcentury. To return to van Wees’s comparison of Homer and Protocorinthian battle scenes, he says, “painter and poet use precisely the same repertoire of images.” The Isthmia alabastron, I would argue, supports his claim. Other indications point more specifically to the Chigi Painter. For example, the scale of the figures is also compatible, B being 1 cm as preserved from just above the waist; a restored height of 2 cm is, therefore, accurate, and matches A. It also matches the figures on the Macmillan aryballos (Fig. 8.5). True, the figures on the Chigi olpe are more than twice this height, but that is on a vase nearly four times the size, which is sufficient explanation for the discrepancy. Double incisions for the hem and shoulder of the chitoniskos are paralleled on the flute player of the Chigi vase (Fig. 8.4). To me, though, the most striking feature, and the one that first prompted me to the title of this chapter, is the way in which B runs. In Archaic art, the Knielauf, or “knee-running,” pose is ubiquitous and invariably used to denote running. However, B is running in a wholly different, more natural manner, his right leg stretched out behind him, well off the ground, and his left leg well forward. I know of only one parallel for this pose, and it is none other than the Chigi vase (Fig. 8.4). The exceptional nature of this pose is pointed up even more by its not being used universally, even on the Chigi vase where the Knielauf pose is also employed for the boy with reverted head on the hunt with dogs (Fig. 8.6). The running pose is the only element of the figure scene on the Isthmia alabastron for which I can find a comparandum only with the Chigi Painter.

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Figure 8.7. aryballos attributed to the evelyn Painter, London BM 1969,1215.1. H. 6.8 cm. Courtesy

Trustees of the British Museum

A further factor is pertinent here, namely, the sophistication of the composition: the form of the duel is in itself exceptional, and I have no ready parallel for it. Further, the overlapping by B’s leading leg of the outstretched leg of C gives an element of depth rare in this period—perhaps not as complex as the overlapping of the lion hunt on the Chigi vase,25 but certainly comparable with the “spatial recession”26 of the hoplites (Fig. 8.4). There may be a further degree of depth in that the right leg of C is folded under him, distinctly set off from both B’s foot and his own rump, and appears to be represented with the sole facing the viewer. If so, this would be an element of foreshortening unexpected, but not incompatible with the exceptional, and experimental, nature of the finest vases of this period. There are no incisions to indicate that the warriors are wearing greaves, but they may have been painted, like those on the Macmillan aryballos (Fig. 8.5); this may apply also to, for example, a conical oinochoe fragment in Corinth of the same, or slightly earlier, date.27 Certainly, those on the Chigi olpe wear greaves (Fig. 8.4). And a last observation on the figurescene: the victor is on the left, whereas on the Chigi Painter’s Macmillan and Berlin aryballoi, and on related vases of the Chigi Group,28 he is on the right. Of course, on the Chigi vase itself, there is no hint of which side the victors will occupy as the two sides have yet to engage. It seems, then, that our alabastron, exceptional as it is at this period, foreshadows the standard Archaic practice of depicting the victor on the left. Finally, the lack of filling ornament in the Isthmia figure scene is compatible with the works of the Chigi Painter, and many of the finer vases of this period. Although the practice is by no means universally consistent, Benson pertinently notes that the finest vase painters of Middle Protocorinthian II (the period to which he assigns the Chigi Painter)29 “remained, on the whole, remarkably independent toward filling ornaments, either ignoring them altogether or using them with a certain flair.”30 The final fragment, IP 8450, is a lower body to base sherd, preserved to a small part of the central depression (Fig. 8.1:c). At the top left, there are

25. CVA, Villa Giulia [Italy 1], pl. 4:2. 26. Hurwit 2002, p. 16. 27. Amyx and Lawrence 1996, p. 9, no. 10, pl. 2, dated “MPCII or beginning of LPC.” 28. E.g., Louvre CA 1831. Amyx 1988, p. 37 (Chigi Group); Benson 1989, p. 52 (Group of the Berlin Centauromachy, contemporary with the Chigi Painter); Dunbabin and Robertson 1953, p. 179 (Macmillan Painter). See also Johansen 1923, pl. 33; Payne 1931, pl. 1:5. 29. Benson 1989, p. 56. 30. Benson 1995, pp. 174–175.

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Figure 8.8. Detail of the Chigi vase, Villa Giulia 22679. Courtesy Soprintendenza per i Beni Archeologici dell’Etruria Meridionale, photo no. 125419

31. London BM 1969,1215.1, Evelyn Painter (Early Protocorinthian). Amyx 1988, p. 17, n. 1, pl. 1:6b; Benson 1989, p. 26, pl. 7:4a–c.

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equine lower legs and hooves, with only one speck of paint and some paint stains remaining. Protocorinthian horses stand with legs well separated, as, for example, on an aryballos in London (Fig. 8.7),31 whereas here we have two legs together. There are two possible explanations, both of which are found in the work of the Chigi Painter, although neither is exclusive to him. One is found on the Macmillan aryballos (Fig. 8.5), where the horses are shown with back legs together and front legs together; and the other appears on the Chigi vase (Fig. 8.8), where there are two horses, walking in the conventional manner. On either reading those on our fragment are almost certainly back legs. One would also expect a tail to show, since, on the Chigi vase and elsewhere, horses’ tails usually reach a level well below that preserved here. The Macmillan aryballos, however, shows the tails of several horses as paddle-shaped, angled to reflect the raised posture of the horse, and comparatively short, in at least one case short enough not to show at the level preserved on the Isthmia alabastron. Here we should consider the relationship of the horses, or horse, to figure A. There is, after all, hardly space on the alabastron for there not to be a relationship. True, Protocorinthian vases do often juxtapose apparently unconnected elements, sometimes leading to tortuous scholarly attempts to find a link. Here, though, we are on more secure ground. A’s arms are held slightly forward, most naturally holding reins, and I would conclude that he is a charioteer with a two-horse chariot team; indeed he finds a parallel in the charioteer of the Chigi vase (Fig. 8.6), although that charioteer has a four-horse team. I note, though, that A does not have double incisions, nor is the drawing of his hair as elaborate as that of the figures on the Chigi vase. I do not, at any rate, think our charioteer is like the manic jockeys of the Macmillan aryballos. If figure A were a charioteer, and the horse legs those of the chariot team, this group would take up the left side of the alabastron, with the duel on the right. Furthermore, if figure A is a rider, the horse would extend well to right of center as well as left, thus pushing the duel round the back of the vase, which seems inherently unlikely. With figure A as a charioteer, the duel is

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only slightly right of center, sharing the limelight. One final observation arises from the conclusion that this is a charioteer: a possible interpretation for the partially preserved rounded object at the break to the left of the duel. I am by no means certain what it is, but it is not unlike the chariot rail of—again—the Chigi vase, which is similarly high and rounded; it is, however, not solid like ours, and so would be harder to grip, suggesting that perhaps another explanation should be sought. Returning to the lower fragment, the decoration continues below the horse legs with a dot rosette between bands, as on IP 3290, equally spaced and of equal size. Below, monochrome rays alternate with outline half rays, the latter originating from the midpoint of each monochrome ray. The spacing of the rays is compatible with that on IP 3290. The bases of the rays are linked by a circle, and a second circle runs around the central depression, which is also painted. The use of base rays on alabastra is, as far as I know, unparalleled, although several early examples have no base preserved. This is, then, an exceptional—perhaps unique—feature on a vase that has already been placed in the context of a series of vases which are unique because of their highly experimental nature. The form of the rays confirms its place in this series, the alternation of monochrome with half-height outline paralleled on an aryballos in Berlin assigned by Amyx to the Chigi Group (Fig. 8.9),32 with the difference that on the Berlin vase lozenges are placed within each outline. The Berlin vase was attributed to the Macmillan Painter by Dunbabin and Robertson,33 while Benson34 places it in the MPCII Group of the Berlin Centauromachy. It is also worth noting that the rays on the Macmillan aryballos (Fig. 8.5) are monochrome with alternating half-height red rays, another variation on the pattern of the Berlin aryballos and of the Isthmia alabastron. I mentioned earlier that the use of pattern on the back of the handle of our alabastron is an aryballos-like feature; the same can be said of the base rays. Although it is hard to be sure of the compositional relationship between the fragments, their structural relationship is clear, giving an overall estimated height of 6.9 cm. This height, and the use of a single frieze, are compatible with the arguments adduced earlier in favor of its position firmly in Late Protocorinthian, without signs of approaching the Transitional period.35 I note also that the height of the Macmillan aryballos is 7 cm, and its warriors, as already mentioned, 2 cm high, like the figures on the Isthmia alabastron.

istHMia anD t H e CH iG i Pain ter The present study is by no means the first time that Isthmia and the Chigi Painter have been linked, however tentatively: fragments of painted stucco from the mid-7th-century temple at Isthmia were long ago compared by Oscar Broneer with Protocorinthian vase painting, and particularly the work of the Chigi Painter, “both in colors and in the type of drawing.”36 Broneer wisely preceded this comparison with the qualification “so far as it is possible to consider style in connection with these tiny fragments.” More recently, Jeffery Hurwit, in his study of the Chigi vase, has suggested that the Isthmia paintings (and, indeed, the Thermon metopes), “might

Figure 8.9. aryballos attributed to the Chigi Group, Berlin F 336. H. 6.0 cm. Courtesy Antikensammlung,

Staatliche Museen zu Berlin

32. Berlin F 336. Johansen 1923, p. 98, no. 40, pl. 30:1a–d; Payne 1933, pl. 21; Amyx 1988, p. 37; further bibliography in Neeft 1991, p. 16. 33. Dunbabin and Robertson 1953, p. 179. 34. Benson 1989, p. 51. 35. Amyx (1988, p. 438) gives a typical size of 6 cm for Late Protocorinthian, with an average of 9 cm in Transitional, while Payne (1931, p. 275) gives no specific height for Protocorinthian, but 7–8 cm for Transitional. 36. Isthmia I, pp. 33–34.

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a

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b

Figure 8.10. Fragments of wall painting from isthmia: (a) ia 474; (b) ia 475. Scale 2:3. Isthmia I, pl. A:1, 9

Figure 8.11. Kotyle attributed to the aigina Bellerophon Painter, aigina K 253 (1376). H. 14.7 cm. Photo

C. Cooper, courtesy Ephorate of Antiquities of West Attica, Piraeus, and the Islands

37. Hurwit 2002, pp. 6–7. 38. Aigina K 253 (1376). Amyx 1988, p. 29, no. A-1, pl. 8:1a; Benson 1989, p. 55, pl. 19:7a, b. Schaus (1988, p. 110) cites as a parallel for the diagonal meander on the Isthmia wall painting a plate from Thasos (his pl. III:d), but that is Cycladic (Salviat and Weill 1960). As the Aigina Bellerophon Painter’s kotyle shows (Fig. 8.11), there is no need to go beyond Corinthian. 39. Whitley et al. 2007, p. 42, fig. 50. I also learned much from a lecture by Niemeier at the Institute of Classical Studies, London, on March 21, 2007. 40. Akurgal 1992, p. 90, fig. 11.

well have been the work of one of the few Corinthian craftsmen who primarily painted polychrome vases and who might have easily adapted their techniques for different media upon commission.”37 Here I simply make two comments: first, although the Isthmia horse mane (Fig. 8.10:a) has often been compared with the Chigi vase, not only is the style notably different, it is by no means confined to the Chigi Painter; and secondly, the use of the diagonal meander at Isthmia (Fig. 8.10:b) is also paralleled in pottery, not in the work of the Chigi Painter but in that of other fine pot painters of the time, such as the Aigina Bellerophon Painter (Fig. 8.11).38 Most recently, a striking parallel has been found by Niemeier in another mid-7th-century temple wall painting, at Kalapodi in Phokis.39 He points to the fact that on the wall painting, there is an opposing phalanx, as there is on the Chigi vase, and there is an undeniable similarity between the helmet crest on one of the warriors from Kalapodi and those on the Chigi vase. While future excavation seasons may bring more fragments of the wall painting, and more evidence to link it with the Chigi Painter, no such claim is being advanced by the excavator at the time of writing. I would, though, add a note of my own: drawings accompanying Akurgal’s publication of a fragmentary Late Protocorinthian oinochoe in Izmir, which she has attributed as the only work of the Erythrai Painter,40 indicate that the Kalapodi helmets are closer to Akurgal’s generic type d, of the third quarter of the 7th century, than to any of the types used by the Chigi Painter.

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To summarize, I would argue that the Isthmia alabastron joins a small group of Protocorinthian alabastra, characteristic of its period in its size, use of a single frieze, and combination of outline and black figure. The quality and nature of the figure scene, and the complexity of the palmette floral, link it with a small group of exceptionally fine vases, including those by the Chigi Painter.

at triBu tion in CorintHian Vase PaintinG Before going further, I must say that I find attributions in Corinthian vase painting more difficult than in Athenian. Some of the reasons for this are explored by Benson,41 who sees more difficulties in Protocorinthian than Corinthian. This theme is also touched on by Neer, but for other reasons: It seems to me that some of the vases produced in the Athenian Kerameikos between, say, 600 and 350 b.c. do indeed mobilize a host of rhetorical devices in order to create the sense that they were made by particular individuals. They are signed, they are painted in bravura styles. This is not really the case with, say, late Corinthian pottery; that is why the application of Beazley’s methods to Corinthian has not been entirely satisfactory.42 This seems to me to imply that attributing unsigned vases is done by differentiation of “bravura styles,” implying, say, those of the Chigi painter and those around him, those of the highest quality who explore figure composition, narrative, and pattern. And yet central to Beazley’s work is its range, from the best painters to the one he purposefully named “the Worst Painter.” Of course, there is bad art at all periods, but I would not count a style distinguished by its awfulness as “bravura.” Nor, it seems to me, does lack of quality necessarily hamper recognition: I would suggest that the Athenian Corinthianizing Polos Painter is, if anything, more recognizable than the Chigi Painter—at least there has been much less dispute about what should be attributed to him. I do not know for certain why the attribution of Corinthian pottery seems less satisfactory than that of Attic. I would suggest, though, that it has to do with the gradation of possibilities in an animal body being less than in a human body—and that means, primarily, the naked male body. Furthermore, rosettes or other filling ornaments often play a part in the attribution of Corinthian vases, something that I do not know of in Attic. Finally, black figure, the technique of Archaic Corinthian, does not offer as many possibilities as red figure with its greater ability to depict musculature, shading, angles, and expressions; that may be one reason why, for example, Beazley’s ARV is considerably longer than ABV. It is also worth noting here that ABV, ARV, and their descendants, Paralipomena and Beazley Addenda, which have almost biblical status among students of Attic vase painting, are lists of attributed vases. They make no claims to comprehensiveness, giving attribution supremacy. Similarly, Amyx’s Corinthian Vase-Painting of the Archaic Period, the magisterial survey published in 1988, is centered on an extensive catalogue of attributed vases, with little attention to unattributed. Payne’s Necrocorinthia, however, distances itself from attributions,

41. Benson 1989, pp. 9–10. 42. Neer 1997, p. 26.

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although as a scholar of vases in Oxford, Payne, who was said to have been Beazley’s favorite pupil, was well aware of the method and practice of attribution. Although Payne’s contributions to Archaic sculpture and to Corinthian vase painting were, and remain, fundamental, he mostly avoided Attic vase painting, very likely feeling that was Beazley’s territory and should be left to him. But we get an insight into how differently he viewed Corinthian vases from this quotation from Necrocorinthia: “I have not been able to attribute very many vases to their authors—and thorough analysis of the style [i.e., Corinthian vase painting] in this respect would, I think, be a somewhat unremunerative task.”43 Frustratingly, he does not tell us why he thinks this, but I, for one, share his reservations despite the great advances in Corinthian attribution that careful study, and the discovery of more vases, have made possible.

tH e C H i Gi Pain ter re Con s iDereD

43. Payne 1931, p. 183. 44. Dunbabin and Robertson 1953, pp. 179–180. 45. Ashmole 1985, p. 69. 46. Benson 1953, pp. 18–19. 47. Dunbabin 1951, p. 68. 48. Benson 1956, p. 220, n. 8.

It may well be argued that these reservations about attribution do not apply to the highest-quality Protocorinthian vase painters, but a brief, if partial, survey of the history of the scholarship of the Chigi Painter is, I think, revealing. In 1953, Dunbabin and Robertson, building on the work of Johansen in 1923 and Payne in 1931 and 1933, attributed to the Macmillan Painter, as they called him, 13 vases, with others “perhaps also” by, or “related” to, him.44 Then we have the Sacrifice Painter, who is a “close companion” of the Macmillan Painter. To me, this use of terminology is reminiscent of the famous sentence Beazley wrote in the “Instructions for Use” in ARV 2, which was later quoted approvingly by Ashmole:45 “I may perhaps be allowed to point out that I make a distinction between a vase by a painter and a vase in his manner; and that ‘manner,’ imitation, following, workshop, school, circle, group, influence, kinship are not, in my vocabulary, synonyms.” This sentence seems to me, rather, a deterrent against making attributions, especially since Beazley never gave a practical explanation of these fine distinctions, effectively obliging later scholars to deduce the method for themselves from his publications. Nonetheless, it is valuable in conveying a sense of the caution needed in making attributions—and if it applies to Athenian vases, it must apply also to Corinthian. Small wonder, therefore, that as early as the very year in which Dunbabin and Robertson published their thoughts on the Macmillan Painter, Benson published a much shorter list of attributions to what he called the Ekphantos Painter46—even the name lacked stability, never mind the list of attributions. Indeed, in 1951, just two years before his article with Robertson was published, Dunbabin had seen the Macmillan Painter as a predecessor of the Chigi Painter.47 Responding to Dunbabin and Robertson in 1956, Benson said, “a great range of styles and of levels of quality has been assigned to the Macmillan Painter. . . . A satisfactory conception of the genius who painted the Chigi vase would seem to be rendered impossible by this variety of attributions.”48 No surprise, then, that in 1989 Benson—who had long since dropped “Ekphantos Painter” for “Chigi Painter”—concurred with Amyx in attributing just four pieces to the painter: the Chigi olpe, the Macmillan aryballos,

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the aryballos Berlin 3773, and a fragment of an olpe in Aigina.49 Amyx keeps two of the subcategories of Dunbabin and Robertson’s classification of the painter’s works, namely “perhaps by” and “related to,”50 while Benson settles for a solitary “manner.”51 Meanwhile, in the first, brief, report of its discovery, the fragmentary oinochoe in Izmir, mentioned above, was called “attributable to the Chigi Painter,”52 whereas in its full publication, some twenty years later, it was assigned by Akurgal to her Erythrai Painter, who, she believed, painted in the same workshop as the Chigi Painter.53 In short, the list of agreed attributions to the Chigi Painter is brief and has shrunk over the decades rather than expanded. The preceding will, I suspect, have given the game away: despite the question mark of my title, I am not considering attributing the Isthmia alabastron to the Chigi Painter. In addition to my natural wariness of attributions, particularly when dealing with a fragmentary vase, there are elements of the draftsmanship, notably the casual incisions of the charioteer’s head and hair, that seem remote from the Chigi Painter. Nonetheless, I hope I have shown that it has some striking similarities to the agreed works of the painter, but whether it is “perhaps by,” “associated with,” “related to,” or, indeed, the work of another painter, known or unknown, others are no doubt better qualified to say.

49. Benson 1989, pp. 56–57, pl. 20:3. 50. Amyx 1988, p. 32. 51. Benson 1989, p. 58. 52. Cook and Blackman 1971, p. 41. 53. Akurgal 1992, esp. p. 95.

c hap ter 9

ar ms fr om the age of Philip and ale xander at Br oneer’s We st foundat ion near isthmia by Alastar H. Jackson

int roD u Ctory s uMMary

1. This chapter is dedicated to the memory of the late and lamented Irena Marszalek, the archaeologist and illustrator who made the drawings published here (Figs. 9.5–9.8). Full acknowledgments for the generous help of the staff and members of the Greek Archaeological Service and of the American School of Classical Studies appear in the introduction to this volume. The conservators who cleaned and preserved the weapons Broneer found deserve grateful mention, namely the late Danaë Hajilazarou-Thimme, Christine Del Re, and Stella Bouzaki, as does the tireless work of Sara Strack and Jean Perras behind Isthmia’s scenes, alongside the help of the staffs of the museums of Isthmia, Corinth, Vergina, Thessaloniki, Veroia, and Aiani (see n. 33, below). Very helpful comments came from John Ma, Holger Baitinger, Polly Low, and from John Davies, Michael Dixon, and David Whitehead, none of whom are responsible for any remaining errors. The most helpful comments of anonymous readers have been addressed so far as is reasonable and practicable. 2. Isthmia II, pp. 117–122, plan I, pls. 45–48:b, 78–81.

Broneer prudently named a very badly damaged monument 2 km west of Isthmia (see Plan A), just north of and overlooking the road to ancient Corinth, simply “the West Foundation.”1 He dug most of it in 1961–1962.2 His and later work has shown that the monument was essentially funerary, and that it expanded remarkably in three stages. It began about 350 b.c. as a modest mound about 9 m across protecting a shallow pit filled with burnt material, including some of the iron weapons discussed here. Later, after some disturbance, this was covered by a larger oblong tumulus with a low ornamental revetment facing the road. Finally around the oblong tumulus a much larger and grander three-sided ashlar monument was built, itself surrounded by a fine low stone parapet with moldings datable to the 330s or 320s b.c. Soon, however, this fine monument was not merely abandoned. Its parapet, at least, was smashed to fragments, and stone robbing and looting may have begun soon thereafter. Current schemes of pottery chronology confirm the period of use as roughly the 350s to the 320s b.c. Strikingly un-Corinthian, this funerary monument’s first two stages and its offerings, especially the 10 best-preserved iron weapons discussed here, recall, more than anything else, warrior burials and weapons in Macedonia and in areas of Macedonian activity and influence from the time of Philip II’s rise in the 350s b.c. onward. Philip’s and then Alexander’s influence (despite challenges) expanded remarkably in Corinth, from well-attested personal friendships in the 350s and onward with two wealthy cavalry officers, Demaratos and Deinarchos, to actual military control and political exploitation of Corinth and Isthmia from 338 b.c. The creation and costly expansion of this conspicuously sited monument, with its very un-Corinthian Macedonian parallels, notably as regards multiple weapons in burials, can scarcely have had no connection with the contemporary rise of the warlike Argead kings of Macedonia. The tantalizing fact that we cannot tell precisely who built and expanded the monument, nor precisely when, nor whom they sought to honor, may not totally invalidate this cautious juxtaposition of archaeological and historical evidence, except in the minds of the most rigid of skeptics.

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tH e arCH ae oLo GiCaL Con text oF tH e wea Po ns The badly looted and stone-robbed monument at which Broneer, in 1961 and 1962, found the remarkable iron weapons discussed here lies about 2 km southwest of the sanctuary at Isthmia, on rising ground above and just north of an important trans-Isthmian road to Ancient Corinth.3 It was so badly damaged that its exact nature is unknown; Broneer’s noncommittal name for it, the West Foundation, remains necessary. Its use is clearly dated by pottery to a relatively short period, namely (on current dating systems) the third quarter of the 4th century b.c. It expanded spectacularly over this period in three very different stages, themselves not precisely datable (Figs. 9.1–9.4).4

S tag e 1: S m al l r ound tumulus ov er P i t At first the monument consisted of a shallow, roughly square central pit measuring ca. 2.5 m on each side, overflowing with burnt material, including some of the weapons, and surrounded by a low roughly circular wall of field stones about 9 m across. Over this was heaped a small round tumulus of stones and earth now removed but probably not over 2 m in height.

Figure 9.1 (opposite, above). west Foundation, actual-state plan. in center, stage 1’s ash pit and stone circle, with south segment intersected by polygonal revetment wall of oblong tumulus of stage 2. undug stones and earth of the latter’s base appear east, north, and west of stage 1, all surrounded by stage 3’s ashlar peribolos and outer parapet.

Isthmia II, pl. 78

Figure 9.2 (opposite, below). west Foundation from south. across center the bases of stage 3’s peribolos and parapet; the east–west road in trench foreground left. Just behind peribolos, stage 2’s polygonal revetment wall; beyond, undug stones and earth of wide oblong tumulus. in very center at gap in polygonal revetment wall, ash pit of stage 1. Photo courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

S tag e 2 : ob l ong tumulus with Polyg onal fac a de After an interval of unknown but probably not insignificant duration, with serious disturbance to Stage 1 and the scattering of many of its contents, a wider, more conspicuous roughly oblong tumulus was built over the remains of the first stage.5 This tumulus could have reached over 2 m in height; it was certainly about 15 m from north to south and at least 17 m wide on its long south flank facing the road. This flank was revetted and adorned by a low ornamental wall of distinctive polygonal style clearly meant to be seen from the road.6 At its center this wall runs right over the southern segment 3. Preliminary publication: Broneer 1962a, pp. 16–18, 20–21, pl. 9:b. There and in Isthmia II, pp. 117–122, he suggested that the monument may be Isthmia’s shrine of Glaukos (Paus. 6.20.19), and that the weapons are athletes’ dedications. He soon modified this (Broneer 1976, pp. 49–51). Broneer and most others since now accept that it is essentially funerary (see also n. 4, below.) All of the weapons Broneer found, including those described here, will be fully published in the volume on the arms and armor from Isthmia, now in preparation. 4. In Isthmia II, p. 120, Broneer gives 350 b.c. as the approximate date for the monument and its contents; he very clearly did not mean that all its

three distinct stages occurred in that one single year. For in Isthmia II, p. 120, n. 4, he dates the molding of the parapet of the third phase to the 330s or 320s b.c. In any case, John Hayes (forthcoming and pers. comm.) confirmed that the ceramic evidence indicates a period of use throughout the third quarter of the 4th century b.c. Elizabeth Gebhard (pers. comm.) accepts the current dating pending future studies. That the monument may be a heroon in the form of a cenotaph is a possibility accepted by Raubitschek (Isthmia VII, p. 123, n. 29) and by Morgan (Isthmia VIII, p. 435). The same possibility had already been accepted in unpublished excavation

studies in 1987 by Nicoletta Momigliano, with the help of Helga Butzer Felleisen and of Lauri Hlavaty, and by the latter in her valuable unpublished seminar paper (Univ. of Chicago, 1987) in the Isthmia Museum, all accepting the present writer’s remarks on the weapons in his preliminary catalogue of 1986. 5. Isthmia II, p. 119. For the disturbance, see n. 8, below. 6. The polygonal wall is ca. 3.5 m south of the center of the ash pit; Isthmia II, p. 119, pls. 78 (= Fig. 9.1), 79, and pls. 45:a, b (= Fig. 9.3), c, 46:a, b, d. See Wrede 1933, pp. 58–59, for further examples of this style of masonry in Classical monuments.

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of the low circular wall.7 Thus, the first stage, even after the disturbance to it, remained the protected focus of this new oblong tumulus. Scattered weapons as well as other finds, many dislodged from the disturbed first stage, were discovered beneath the close-packed field stones and earth surviving from the base of the wider oblong tumulus.8

S tag e 3 : Lar ge a s hl a r P er ib ol o s an d Parap e t

Figure 9.3. west Foundation from west. in center, stage 1’s pit and stone circle, its south segment intersected by polygonal revetment wall of stage 2’s oblong tumulus, whose undug stones and earth lie to left. in foreground and right, ashlar bases of stage 3’s peribolos and parapet. Isthmia II, pl. 45:b

Later still, probably in the 330s or 320s b.c., the third stage of the monument was built around the oblong tumulus. It was a three-sided masonry structure, set on the well-made ashlar foundation that is the site’s most solid and conspicuous surviving feature today. It was clearly intended to enhance as well as to protect the oblong tumulus with its polygonal revetment wall preserved just behind its long south facade.9 Evidently the second stage no longer seemed impressive enough or well-protected enough for those who could now afford its larger, much costlier, grander, and more permanent looking successor, gleaming with bright fresh-cut ashlar. Just what and how tall and conspicuous the robbed superstructure was that once sat on top of the three-sided foundation we cannot now tell. Not a scrap 7. This intersection is clearly visible in Figs. 9.1 (ca. 3.5 m south of the center of the ash pit) and 9.4, and in Isthmia II, pls. 45:a, 46:b, d. 8. As will be shown in the Isthmia volume in preparation on the arms and armor, and in Hayes’s forthcoming volume on Isthmia’s Hellenistic and

Roman pottery, the first tumulus actually suffered deliberate disturbance before the second, oblong tumulus was constructed protecting it. Some other weapons found not beneath but among the stones of the base of the new oblong tumulus may either have been dislodged from the first stage or offered

when the second stage was constructed. 9. Isthmia II, p. 119, pls. 78 (= Fig. 9.1), 79, just over 3.5 m south of the center of the ash pit; also visible in Isthmia II, pl. 45:a, b (= Fig. 9.3), c, and esp. in pl. 46:a; here also in Figs. 9.2, 9.4.

a r m s f r o m t h e a g e o f p h i l i p a n d a l e xa n d e r

Figure 9.4. west Foundation, interior from northeast. in center ash pit, excavated, with stone circle partly dug, its southern segment (to left) intersected by polygonal wall, whose inner face is in shadow. Base of peribolos top left. Photo courtesy University

of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

10. Attic three-sided burial periboloi: Garland 1982. For a fine masonry peribolos with a round component in the center of the facade with projecting ends, a design similar to our monument’s final phase, see Kerameikos XII, pp. 99–125 (dated early to mid-4th century b.c.), also in Kurtz and Boardman 1971, p. 111, fig. 21. This resemblance is noted in Hlavaty’s 1987 semi-

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of any columns, stelai, or sculpture from it was found. But it probably was a substantial three-sided stone peribolos like those, for example, in late5th- and 4th-century Athens and Attica.10 The structure was about 25 m long on its south facade overlooking the road, with two short southward side-projections at its ends. Its two side walls running north on its east and west flanks were each ca. 16 m long. Even this was not lavish enough for its wealthy builders. Either when, or not long after the masonry structure was built, a low three-sided ornamental parapet was added just in front of the structure. This parapet, also conspicuously bright when new, measured ca. 30 m along its south side and ca. 20 m along its short sides, making the monument’s final area about ten times that of the small first phase, which again remained its central protected focus. Broneer was able to date the parapet’s hawksbeak molding to as late as the 330s or 320s b.c.11 Yet this fine, solid, and grand structure seems soon to have been abandoned and destroyed, as the pottery evidence and the lack of serious weathering on the ornamental parapet show.12 Starting relatively soon after nar paper (see n. 4, above), p. 19. No offerings of weapons specifically associated with this third phase (if any were made) survived to be discovered by Broneer. 11. Isthmia II, p. 120, n. 4. Intriguingly the main dimensions of the ashlar base of the West Foundation (ca. 25 × 16 m) resemble those of the polyandrion at Chaironeia containing the

bones of the Theban Sacred Band: Kaftangioglou 1880; Kurtz and Boardman 1971, p. 248; Ma 2008, p. 81. For the molding, see Isthmia II, pp. 118, 120, n. 4, pls. 45:e, 80:a. 12. For the absence of later pottery in the Stage 3 fills, see Hayes, forthcoming. For lack of weathering on the parapet, see Isthmia II, p. 119, pl. 45:e.

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the 320s b.c. the monument fell victim to neglect and stone robbing, but probably to much worse, for the parapet was clearly deliberately smashed to fragments on removal. Broneer thought this damage had been necessary to allow it to be dismantled, but it could also (as noted below) have been the result of malicious destruction.13 As to its character, in its roadside position the monument is like the many other graves along the road from ancient Corinth to Isthmia. Its three successive forms (tumuli and three-sided peribolos), the burnt material in the pit (and also beyond), the weapons, and the other offerings (including a gilded bronze wreath, some Glasinac pins, very numerous strigils, and some pseudo-Cypriot vases) all show that it was always essentially funerary in character.14 Whether it originally had within it objects of precious metal we cannot know, thanks to the sustained industry of the looters who assailed the monument right up to its exploration by archaeologists. That same industry and local hearsay evidence, of uncertain value, strongly suggest that it did. Quite what its precise nature was we cannot yet be exactly sure. No human bones were found (except for a burial of Roman date) in what Broneer excavated of the site (the greater part but not all of it).15 If the honorand’s remains were ever there, friends or foes could have meticulously removed them, either for honored reburial elsewhere or for shameful dumping (perhaps out in the deep sea, as sometimes happens even today). It might instead have been the cenotaph of an important mortal, or a heroon in the form of a hero’s tomb, or even the cenotaph of a mortal whose honors, ceremonial and architectural, were soon increased by heroization.16 But we can at least say that the monument represents the funerary commemoration of some honorand greatly esteemed by certain people, doubtless by some Corinthians and perhaps also by some foreign visitors to Isthmia and Corinth. Therefore the weapons must have been grave gifts or something similar such as dedications, deposited not just casually but with ceremony, probably intended to be conspicuous then and commemorated thereafter.17 We must never forget, if this interpretation is accepted, that funerals and funerary monuments could be intensely political and controversial, then as now. The damage to the parapet (and the disturbance to the first phase of the monument) need not have been inflicted by later tomb robbers or builders collecting ready-made materials; it could also have been carried out by certain bitter enemies of those who built it. For in the second half of the 4th century tombs were sometimes attacked by people who hated their occupants and kinsfolk, such as the tombs of Dionysios I and his family when Timoleon liberated Syracuse, or that of Iolaos the son of Antipater wrecked by Alexander’s vindictive mother Olympias.18 If the monument was or became a heroon, its builders would have regarded, and their enemies would have intended, damage to it as an outrageous insult and as actual desecration. This may sound dramatic, but we shall soon see that Corinth’s history at this time was dramatic indeed. Now for the weapons, which with other finds seem to link the monument to the stormy rise of Macedonia and her intrusion into southern Greece.

13. Isthmia II, p. 119. 14. The road: Isthmia II, p. 122, plan I, pl. 81. Wreath: Isthmia VII, pp. 68, 71, n. 100 (noting Macedonian funerary parallels), no. 279 (IM 3152 and similar fragments). The pins: see n. 67, below. Iron strigils: Isthmia VII, pp. 123, 130, 173–174, nos. 466–473, 475, and many fragments of strigil handles and blades. Further strigil fragments have been inventoried since 1998. The pseudo-Cypriot vases are to be published by Hayes (forthcoming). The type was used from before the mid- to the late 4th century b.c. (Agora XXXIII, pp. 142–147). Parallels: Kurtz and Boardman 1971, pp. 162–165, 203–217. 15. Isthmia II, pp. 119, 121. 16. Kurtz and Boardman 1971, pp. 297–302. For the contemporary heroization of Timoleon, see Diod. Sic. 16.90.1; of Hephaistion, see Arr. Anab. 7.14.7. 17. Kurtz and Boardman 1971, pp. 142–161 (rites), 200–217. 18. For malicious damage to the first phase, see n. 8, above; to the third phase, n. 13, above. Dionysios I’s tomb: Plut. Dion 53, Tim. 22. Iolaos’s tomb: Diod. Sic. 19.11.8.

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tH e w e aP on s an D tH ei r MaC eD on ian ParaLLeL s The more than 20 weapons, all of them iron, found in the first and second stages of the monument most probably date to the middle decades and the third quarter of the 4th century b.c., when it was in use. The 10 catalogued below are well enough preserved for clear resemblances to be seen between them and weapons from a whole series of Macedonian burial sites, mainly published after Broneer described the monument and its contents in 1973. One such site is the Oblong Tumulus at Vergina, with graves of the mid-4th century b.c. and several weapons similar to those in the West Foundation. A second site, certainly of 338 b.c., is the polyandrion at Chaironeia, usually thought to contain the bones and weapons of the Macedonians killed there.19 Another is Tomb II at Vergina. If arms found above and in its main tomb chamber are those of Philip II, they will date to the years down to 336 b.c.20 Even if that very controversial tomb is that of Philip III Arrhidaios (born about 357 b.c. and murdered in 317 b.c.), whose mental disabilities meant that he did not take part in actual combat, some of the weapons in it could date as far back as about 340 b.c. For, as an Argead prince by then of military age, he could hardly not have been given arms (even if perhaps rather blunt and with vigilant handlers to stop him using them inappropriately).21 Of course, all may date to his reign as joint king with Alexander IV, from 323 b.c. until his murder, or even to his burial with royal honors by Cassander in 316 b.c.22 Many more weapons have been found, for example in Tombs A, B, and D at Derveni, at Ayios Athanasios, Phoinikas, and Leukadia, which date to the last quarter of the 4th century or even the early 3rd century b.c.23 Again, theoretically some of these weapons may have been made some time before the 320s, although considering the intense use most Macedonians, other than Philip Arrhidaios, put their weapons to in the campaigns of Alexander and of the feuding Diadochi, they could well have been made not long before deposition in the tombs. Strikingly, the weapons that Broneer found resemble many in Macedonian burials of the middle decades of the 4th century b.c., foreshadowing more developed designs found in later burials in the Macedonian sphere. Although we cannot as yet present a precisely dated account of the development of Macedonian weaponry, like that which can be given of, for example, Attic red-figure pottery, we can reasonably suppose that it developed rapidly, starting with Philip’s army reforms and evolving further 19. Vergina, Oblong Tumulus: Kyriakou 2008, pp. 66–71, 103–105, 147–151, 207–222. Chaironeia: Sotiriadis 1903; Ma 2008, esp. pp. 77–78. 20. Andronikos 1984, pp. 69, 98, 121, 144–146, 221–224. 21. Hammond and Griffith 1979, p. 225; Plut. Phoc. 33.7. As Barr-

Sharrar shows (2008, pp. 44–45), not all valued objects in a splendid Macedonian tomb need date as late as the burial itself. 22. Diod. Sic. 19.52.5. 23. Derveni: Themelis and Touratsoglou 1997, pp. 44–48, 84–85, 109; Ayios Athanasios (Tomb of the Young

Warrior): Tsimbidou-Avloniti 1990– 1995, pp. 72–73, 78–79; Phoinikas: Tsimbidou-Avloniti 2005, pp. 40, 83–84; Leukadia: Stephani 1998, pp. 418–420. Which of these weapons were sarissas or xysta need not be debated here; see Connolly 2000 for sarissas.

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as Alexander’s army encountered new enemies and new weaponry in the East, and further yet in his successors’s wars.24 We may also briefly note that some of the refinements displayed by the weapons here described do not, on present evidence, appear in the few mid-4th-century weapons found in areas of the Greek world not yet affected by Macedonians or by their friends. Nor, again on present evidence, do they appear in representations uninfluenced by Macedonian art.25 It is particularly the five spear heads and the javelin head catalogued here that have the clearest parallels in Macedonian burials. The first two spear heads (1, 2), together with the larger sword (9), are certainly among the earliest deposited in the monument, having been found in the lowest levels of its central pit. So too is the smaller sword (10), found inside the small stone circle that forms its first stage.26 They, at any rate, will date at the latest to very early in the third quarter of the 4th century, not toward the 320s b.c. So also may at least six weapons described below that were probably thrown out of the first stage when it was wrecked, for they were found scattered randomly outside its stone circle and covered by the stones and earth of the second stage, the oblong tumulus. In the following catalogue only those dimensions and other details that help to show similarities to Macedonian weapons are provided; all these objects will be fully published elsewhere.

Sp e ar h e ads 1

Spear head

Fig. 9.5

IM 4683. Lot 1363, trench E΄. P.L. 0.31, max. W. 0.042 m. Of this spear head from the base of the central pit only the blade is left, without the tip and shoulders. Originally the blade would have been longer than the 0.31 m that survives. But even that surviving length, its narrow tapering shape, and the shallow grooves just inside the cutting edges toward the point mean that it is very similar to a spear blade found in the Macedonian polyandrion at Chaironeia, therefore dating at the latest to 338 b.c.27 IM 4683 is solid toward the point, but hollow-forged toward the lost shoulders. Such long spears were useful against war horses as well as men and against large wild animals in hunting, which Macedonians enjoyed as much as warfare.28 24. Thus the West Foundation has not (yet) produced exceedingly large and heavy spear heads and spear butts, like those in Andronikos 1970, esp. pp. 98–100, no. A, figs. 5, 9:a, or in Yalouris et al. 1980, p. 186, no. 167, from Vergina Tomb II. Similarly, the exceptionally long spear head SO 26 from the antechamber at Leukadia (0.85 m long; Stephani 1998, p. 419) may be designed to kill not just horses but war elephants, not encountered by Macedonians until 326 b.c.: Arr. Anab. 5.17.2–7. 25. In, e.g., Attic red-figure vases, spear butts clearly shown in Boardman

1989, figs. 292:1, 326, 329:2, 3, do not have the extra spike and strong flanges of 4th-century Macedonian types. Long thin spear heads are found in fact and art outside Macedonia, but usually without some of the very fine details of those here cited. This important question will be explored in more detail in the chapter on the West Foundation’s weapons in the volume on Isthmia’s arms and armor. I am very grateful to Holger Baitinger for warning me that because we have so few closely datable weapons in Greece south of Macedonia we cannot be sure that those described here are not simply fine weapons typi-

cal of Greece as a whole, including Macedonia. But the West Foundation’s other finds, its first two forms, and the historical context point, in any case, to Macedonia. 26. Isthmia II, p. 119. 27. Sotiriadis 1903, pp. 308–309, fig. 41:9 (identified as a sword blade, but from the tapering shape clearly a spear head). On Macedonian weapons’ effects, see Ma 2008, pp. 74–76. 28. Hollow-forged or “hammerwelded” blades: Andronikos 1970, p. 98, no. B, fig. 9:b; Connolly 2000, p. 107. Hunting: e.g., Andronikos 1984, pp. 102–118; Ath. 1.18a.

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fr. b

1

Figure 9.5. spear heads 1, 2 from base of central pit. Scale 1:2. Drawings

I. Marszalek, courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

fr. a

2

141

142 2

a l a s ta r h . j a c k s o n Spear head

Fig. 9.5

(a) IM 4680, (b) IM 4682. No lot, trench E΄. Est. min. L. of blade 0.35, max. W. 0.037, max. Diam. of socket 0.028 m. Like 1, this spear head also from the base of the pit has a hollow-forged blade, but it is hollow all the way from the shoulder (fr. a) right up to the point (fr. b) for lightness and greater ease in aiming. Though the middle section of the blade is lost and though the tip is damaged, the outline of the cutting edges and of the strengthening central rib in both fragments allow the original length of the blade to be estimated at not less than 0.35 m. Below the gently sloping shoulders, at the transition to the socket, the rib is solid and rectangular in section. The blade thus closely resembles those of two similar long rapier-like thrusting spear heads found in Tomb II at Vergina (one with a socket bent laterally). Others were found in the Oblong Tumulus there.29 The blade and socket of 2 are similarly bent, not by accident nor as a result of fire but quite deliberately before deposition, as weapons offered at graves sometimes were, in Archaic Thessaly for example,30 and like the two swords found in the pyre debris over Tomb II at Vergina.31 The socket itself is very interesting. Its external diameter at the mouth (0.028 m) shows that the lost wooden shaft was quite close in size to those of the two long spear heads from Tomb II. Like theirs, it was carefully shaped, though in a different and unusual way. As Figure 9.5 shows, it has multiple chamfering, seemingly to represent the knots in a roughly shaped wood shaft. Shafts of the male cornel tree, favored by Macedonians and Persians for cavalry lances and javelins, respectively,32 could have very similar knots.33 The conspicuously knotted spear shaft in the foreground near the center of the Alexander Mosaic may resemble one of these.34 When Alexander’s cornel-wood lance broke at the battle on the Granicus in 334 b.c., Demaratos, a tough old Corinthian cavalry officer and family friend of the Argead royal house, loyally gave his own to the king in the ferocious fighting, a crucial episode to be discussed below.35 3

Spear head

Figure 9.6 (opposite). spear heads 3, 4 from base of oblong tumulus.

Scale 1:2. Drawings I. Marszalek, courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

Fig. 9.6

IM 3126. Lot 1331, trench E΄. L. of blade 0.291, max. W. 0.036, max. Diam. of socket 0.015 m. This well-preserved and skillfully made spear head was found just east of but probably dislodged from the wrecked first stage of the monument, underneath the packed field stone and earth layer of its second stage. Like 2, it was deliberately bent before deposition. It has a tip reinforced in the shape of a swallow’s tail joining shallow grooves extending back just inside the sharp cutting edges. The blade is diamond-shaped in section, its low central ridge extending from the tip toward the socket into which it merges as a tapering cone. Fine faceting decorates most of the length of the socket. The reinforced tip is a sophisticated version of a very old device found in many varieties of sword tips and arrowheads to keep them from snapping when smashing through shields, thin bronze, tough hide, or hard bone so that the following cutting edges could then take effect on enemy or on game.36 Such a swallow’s tail reinforcement 29. Tomb II: Andronikos 1984, p. 144, fig. 102 (left); Alessandro Magno, pp. 228–229, no. 21a, upper fig. on p. 229 (socket bent). Oblong Tumulus: Kyriakou 2008, p. 69, no. A15. 30. Tziafalias 1978, pp. 163–164, figs. 6, 7. 31. Andronikos 1977, pp. 51–52; 1984, p. 69.

32. Cornel-wood weapon shafts: Arr. Anab. 1.15.5. 33. I owe much very valuable information on and specimens of cornel wood to the generosity and energetic commitment of Thomas Karpenizis, guard at the Aiani Museum. 34. Alessandro Magno, p. 34, below the unfortunate horse with a spear head

in its heart. See also Cohen 1997, p. 10, fig. 5, pl. I. 35. Arr. Anab. 1.15.5–8. For the full context of this episode, see n. 91, below. 36. Faceting at Vergina: e.g., Markle 1980, p. 256, fig. 9. “Swallow’s-tail” tips, on two Archaic spear heads from Delphi: Avila 1983, pp. 140, 142, nos. 963, 1001, pls. 45, 48.

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4 3

143

144

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appears on several longer and wider spear heads found in Macedonia, including a very fine heavy one from inside Tomb II at Vergina.37 These may have been later developments of the type, especially if they represent varieties of infantry sarissas which perhaps had evolved late in or after Philip II’s reign.38 4

Spear head

Fig. 9.6

IM 3421. Lot 2409, trench K. Est. min. L. of blade 0.26, max. W. 0.04, max. Diam. of socket 0.018 m. 4 was found underneath the stones of Stage 2, just north of the stone circle, again with its finely faceted socket bent. Though its point is lost, the original length of the blade can be roughly estimated at over 0.26 m. The blade was hollow-forged and the shoulders were gently rounded. All these features are paralleled in spear heads from Vergina.39 5

Spear head

Fig. 9.7

IM 3150. Lot 1326, trench E. L. of blade 0.35, max. W. 0.036, max. Diam. of socket 0.019 m. Found beneath stones of Stage 2, just east of the stone circle. Its socket was finely faceted. It is quite close in size to the rapier-like spear heads from Tomb II at Vergina, although it has no central rib.40 6

Javelin head

Fig. 9.7

IM 3157. Lot 1446, trench A. L. of blade 0.138, max. W. 0.026, max. Diam. of socket 0.015 m. 6, an acutely pointed javelin head, is much shorter and lighter than 1–5, again found below Stage 2, ca. 4–5 m east of the stone circle. Though corroded, its elaborate decoration is still evident, including an ornamental ring near the neck of the socket and grooves along the strong central rib quite similar to the design of the smaller biconvex spear head published by Andronikos in 1970 from Vergina.41 It is also comparable in size and decoration to fine pointed javelin heads on display in the Vergina Museum.42

Sp e ar B u t ts In addition to these spear heads, spear butts were also found at the West Foundation. The two best preserved are shown in Figure 9.8. Each displays a feature seen also in Macedonian weapons, an improvement on earlier spear butts and on contemporary ones elsewhere in Greece, namely a long, sharp, and vicious extra four-sided armor-piercing spike, springing from the main solid four-sided section but set on a different axis. Such sharp extra spikes are found on spear butts in tombs at Vergina, Derveni, and Phoinikas. Two such spear butts of the mid-4th century, similar in size 37. “Swallow’s-tail” points at Vergina: Yalouris et al. 1980, p. 186, no. 167; Markle 1982, p. 92, fig. 7; Avila 1983, p. 139, no. 951, pl. 42. From an unknown looted site but retrieved in Thessaloniki, so quite probably Macedonian: Karamitrou-Mentessidi 1988, pp. 405–406, pl. 244:b. 38. Roughly datable examples of very large spear heads are those in

Andronikos 1970, pp. 98–100, figs. 5, 9:a, and Yalouris et al. 1980, p. 186, no. 167, from Vergina Tomb II, perhaps later than 336 b.c. Also at Derveni: Themelis and Touratsoglou 1997, p. 61, fig. 11 (from northwest corner of Tomb Β), and p. 109, no. Δ48, pl. 119 (from Tomb Δ); see pp. 220–222 for the date. 39. As 1–3, with nn. 28, 29, 36,

above. 40. See n. 29, above. 41. Andronikos 1970, p. 98, no. B, figs. 6, 9:b (total L. 0.273, Diam. at socket 0.019 m). 42. In the Vergina Museum in October 2005, similar light spear heads probably from javelins were on exhibit, some from Tomb II.

Figure 9.7. spear head 5 and javelin head 6 from base of oblong tumulus.

Scale 1:2. Drawings I. Marszalek, courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

6

5

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and design to 7 and 8, though more ornate, were found in the Oblong Tumulus at Vergina. Other examples from Macedonian tombs are larger and heavier, and among these some have marked fins projecting from, and well beyond, the corners of their solid four-sided sections. These fins are designed primarily to hold the thick shafts firmly when fixed in the ground. If the forward ends of the shafts broke off in battle, the back ends could still be used as murderous, heavy, spiked and flanged maces. These finned examples may well be later in date than the less developed, but still vicious enough, types seen at the West Foundation and in the Oblong Tumulus.43 7

Spear butt

Fig. 9.8

IM 3153. Lot 1334, trench E΄. L. 0.339, max. Diam. of socket 0.025 m. From under the stones of Stage 2, just east of the stone circle. Plain but with an extra spike. 8

Spear butt

Fig. 9.8

IM 3447. Lot 1377, trench L. L. 0.307, max. Diam. of socket 0.027 m. From under the stones of Stage 2, ca. 4 m northeast of the stone circle. This is an imitation in iron of fine ornamented bronze sauroters of Late Archaic and Classical date, but has the long extra spike.44

Sw ords Less specifically Macedonian in form, but still very well designed and comparable to swords from Macedonian graves, are two swords from the oldest part of the West Foundation, its first stage. Both are cross hilted, of the common Classical type which has cutting edges widening to join the outer ends of the cross-bar, so that among other advantages the warrior could effectively deflect an enemy’s cutting blow. Their blades widen toward the point, then taper toward the tip.45 9

Sword

Fig. 9.8

(a) IM 4691 (hilt and most of blade), (b) IM 4709 (point). No lot, trench E΄. Found in fragments, heavily corroded; cleaned and joined by Stella Bouzaki. Est. L. of blade 0.54, max. W. 0.047 m. From base of the central pit. Its blade was for most of its length diamondshaped in section. Its upper half is thick and strong, to block an enemy’s blows and keep the sword’s center of gravity toward the hilt, largely lost. The blade’s lower half is thinner for slicing cuts. The triangular point is not exactly symmetrical as in most such swords. Instead one edge is slightly convex and the other is very slightly concave and a bit thicker. The sword in the lion-hunt mosaic at Pella of the last third or so of the 4th century b.c. has a similar point, as does one held upright by a warrior on the Alexander Mosaic.46 Such a hooked, claw-like point is paralleled on modern hunting knives and some bayonets. This facilitated stabbing thrusts and ripping slashes or backhanded cuts at vital points of an enemy, for example, in the head and neck.47 Aimed accurately at arm’s length by a cavalryman, a blade ca. 0.50 m long could reach a mounted opponent approximately a meter away, or be used to hack or stab down at an infantryman venturing nearer still, but it was also not too long to be used in close-quarter combat on foot.48

43. Vergina: Andronikos 1970, p. 98, no. C, figs. 7, 9:c; Kyriakou 2008 pp. 70, 150–151, nos. Α19, Γ52. Derveni: Themelis and Touratsoglou 1997, pp. 61, 84, 109, nos. Β106γ, Δ51, fig. 11, pl. 119. Phoinikas: Tsimbidou-Avloniti 2005, pp. 83–84, nos. M Th. 17461, M Th. 17462. Also from Vergina but unpublished: Markle 1980, p. 252, IV 2, fig. 6. On the Granicus, Aretas may have been using such a spear butt as a mace (Arr. Anab. 1.15.6). 44. Both 7 and 8 have been illustrated in previous publications: Broneer 1962a, p. 20, no. 7, pl. 9:b (= 7); Rostoker and Gebhard 1980, pl. 108:d (= 8). 45. Same date and type: KilianDirlmeier 1993, pp. 120, 126, no. 418, pl. 55. 46. Pella lion-hunt mosaic: Alessandro Magno, p. 221, no. 18 (similar point on a cutting sword). Alexander Mosaic: Alessandro Magno, p. 34 (sword of warrior looking at Alexander, to right of tree). 47. I owe this practical information to a veteran officer of the British Army who must remain anonymous. 48. On cavalry swords, see Houser 1993.

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fr. a

8 7 fr. b

Figure 9.8. spear butts 7, 8 from base of oblong tumulus; sword 9 from base of central pit. Scale 1:2 (7, 8), 1:3 (9). Drawings I. Marszalek, courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

9

148

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Figure 9.9. sword 10 as found inside stone circle, bent upward toward lost tip. Photo courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

10

Sword

Fig. 9.9

IM 3445. Lot 1374, trench E΄. The very tip is lost. Est. L. of blade 0.42, est. max. W. 0.04 m. From within the stone circle, just south of the pit, so from the first stage. The lower half of the blade was deliberately bent before deposition. Though the blade is too frail to permit removal of corrosion, enough survives of its tapering point to permit its original length to be estimated. Such a short sword would have been particularly useful for cutting and thrusting in close combat, especially on foot, and for hunting; a similar weapon, though needing only a simpler hilt, is shown on the Pella stag-hunt mosaic.49 Prowess in hunting as well as war was, we may emphasize, expected of Macedonian men, not least the well-born.50

What especially links these two swords to Macedonia, both from the very first stage in the development of the West Foundation, is that they were found together. A similar pair of swords, one longer and with gold and ivory trimmings, the other smaller and more corroded, was found in the main chamber of Tomb II at Vergina.51 From the remains of the pyre placed above it came another pair,52 both cross hilted and long for cutting and thrusting, but one straight and the other perhaps slightly curved, rather like the more marked curve of the cutting sword in the Pella lion-hunt mosaic. Andronikos reported in 1977 that both of these were found bent, though they have since evidently been flattened out.53 49. Pella stag-hunt mosaic: Alessandro Magno, p. 121 (a hunting sword without the cross hilt needed in combat). 50. Ath. 1.18a; Arist. Pol. 1324b. 51. Andronikos 1984, pp. 142, 144–

145, fig. 99. 52. Alessandro Magno, pp. 229–230, no. 22a, b. 53. Andronikos 1977, p. 52; Alessandro Magno, pp. 229–230.

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dis c u ssi on In summary, we have 10 weapons of high quality that have more or less close parallels in Macedonian graves of the age of Philip II and Alexander the Great and their successors, but which on present evidence are not exactly paralleled elsewhere in Greece or in Greek art beyond Macedonia’s sphere of influence in this period. Further arguments may now be made for the un-Corinthian and Macedonian character of the weapons and of the West Foundation. The first is that several of its much more fragmentary weapons also seem to show features paralleled in Macedonian burials, some spear and javelin points having similarly shaped hollow-forged blades and a further spear butt, very corroded but with an extra spike like 7 and 8.54 Secondly, as a funerary monument the West Foundation is very unlike its Classical contemporaries in the Corinthia in all three of its stages. In Corinth’s North Cemetery and elsewhere in her territory sarcophagi are common, whereas tumuli, small or large, are not.55 Tumuli tend to be found instead in other parts of Greece, especially in Macedonia.56 Thirdly, in Corinth’s own North Cemetery burial with any weapon is extremely rare, except in times of war. Only three sarcophagi dating to such crises certainly contained arms or armor. One contained a fine Corinthian helmet; this burial dates to the late 6th or early 5th century b.c. when we know Corinth was at war with Argos.57 The other two sarcophagi, each holding a plain, medium-sized spear head, date to the last decades of the 5th century, when Corinth was also at war.58 No certain finds of weapons in the North Cemetery are of the 4th century b.c., even though Corinth was often at war at that time, at least in the first 40 years or so. This could well reflect a reluctance in oligarchic Corinth to proclaim by grave offerings of weapons the prowess of their male dead as fighters, except in wartime, for fear of antagonizing their less wealthy fellow citizens. Perhaps also the Corinthian oligarchs, Laconophile since the 6th century b.c., were influenced by Spartan burial practice, naming on gravestones only those dead in war. If these arguments are accepted, then the burial in the first stage of the West Foundation around 350 b.c., or at most a little later, of at least four weapons paralleled by Macedonian types, 1, 2, 9, and 10 (and probably most of the rest), could well have seemed to Corinthians at best outlandish, and not much later (especially in the late 340s, when tension between Corinth and Macedon increased) as a grossly provocative insult, offensive to many.59 54. All these, like the 10 presented here, will be illustrated and fully discussed in the Isthmia volume on the arms and armor, in preparation. 55. Corinth XIII; Kurtz and Boardman 1971, pp. 164, 190–192, 198. 56. For Macedonian tumuli, see, e.g., Curt. 7.9.21; Themelis and Touratsoglou 1997, p. 199. 57. Corinth XIII, pp. 215–216, Tomb 262. War with Argos ca. 500 b.c.: Jackson 2000.

58. Corinth XIII, pp. 254, 270–271, Tombs 366 (with five strigils), 419. Both these sarcophagi are shorter internally than 2 m, approximately the normal length of many javelins and hoplite spears in Classical art; they would perhaps have had their shafts removed or broken before burial. 59. Certainly by Chaironeia and the garrisoning of Acrocorinth (338 b.c.) most Corinthians would have found the memory of the offerings of Macedo-

nian weapons extraordinarily detestable. For Athenian loathing, by 345 b.c., of Macedonian belligerence, enthusiasm for weapons, and drunkenness at feasts, see Mnesimachus Philip fr. 7, Edmonds 1959, pp. 366–369 (Ath. 10.421b–c). Advertising prowess in aristocratic forms of hunting too, by offerings of weapons at tombs may have been discouraged in Corinth; even today, hunting animals in England is socially controversial.

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By then, among the members of Greek city-states generally, carrying arms in peacetime was exceptional, and burial with weapons occurred very rarely, such as following a few very significant battles. But these two customs remained quite normal in less-advanced states, especially in mountainous areas to the north, Macedonia included, where wild animals and fierce barbarian neighbors had to be repulsed.60 There too, quarrels within communities were often pursued or settled by force rather than in courts or by the intervention of local chiefs or kings who were often weak, facing rivals at home or manipulation by stronger Greek states to the south. No wonder that, before Aristotle’s day, Macedonians who had not yet killed an enemy in war had to wear a halter,61 and that even Antipater’s son Cassander, at least until his thirties, had to sit at banquets for he had not won the right to recline, having not yet killed a wild boar without the use of hunting nets.62 By their sheer presence, and often by their great numbers, the weapons in Macedonian graves honor the dead as warriors and hunters.63 Further, on funerary symbolism and rites, the weapons that were clearly deliberately bent, the spear heads 2, 3, and 4 and the sword 10, have similarly damaged counterparts in Macedonian burials. This damage, whatever its exact meaning, was presumably inflicted, with effort and ostentation, during the funerary ceremonies about which recent discoveries in Macedonia have told us so much.64 In these rites, as in its first two forms (a small tumulus and then a larger one, both atypical of Classical Corinthian burial monuments), the West Foundation would have had many parallels in Macedonia.65 Finally we may note that several other kinds of finds Broneer made at the monument—the unusually numerous strigils,66 the five Glasinac pins,67 and the pseudo-Cypriot vases68—all have parallels in Macedonian graves of the mid- and late 4th century b.c., and could imply similar solemn and very public offering ceremonies, doubtless with periodic commemorations at this conspicuously sited monument. 60. Morris (1998, esp. pp. 10–68) and van Wees (1998, esp. pp. 338–343) provide ample details and discussion. 61. Arist. Pol. 1324b. 62. Ath. 1.18a. 63. See, e.g., the numerous remains of swords, daggers, and spear heads from the Derveni tombs (Themelis and Touratsoglou 1997, pp. 44–45, 84, 109). See also Tsimbidou-Avloniti 1990– 1995, pp. 78–79; 2005, pp. 83–84. 64. Deliberate damage to burial gifts: Grinsell 1962; 1975, pp. 60–67; Kurtz and Boardman 1971, p. 216; Garland 1985, p. 115. Cf. damage to strigils: Isthmia II, p. 121. Damage to weapons in Macedonian male graves: e.g., the wooden spear shaft whose heavy head and butt are spaced just over 1 m apart in Themelis and Touratsoglou 1997, p. 61, fig. 11 (next to north side of tomb chamber) must have

been longer, therefore it was broken, burnt, or removed before burial. The two swords from the pyre debris over Vergina Tomb II were found bent (Andronikos 1977, pp. 51–52; Alessandro Magno, pp. 229–230, no. 22a, b), but scarcely bent by fire alone. Also in a cist grave too short for their original length: Tsimbidou-Avloniti 1990–1995, pp. 72–73; Kottaridi 1999, pp. 637–639 (a bent sword). For Macedonian burial practices, see Themelis and Touratsoglou 1997, pp. 142–157, 201–214; Kyriakou 2008, pp. 241–263, 273–278. 65. See n. 56, above. The splendid cenotaph Tomb 77 at Salamis in Cyprus with its weapons and other contents seems to seek to equal and to rival these Macedonian tombs, understandably if it commemorates King Nicocreon and his family, defying Ptolemy I in death as in life (Karageorghis

1973, pp. 128–202). 66. See, e.g., Andronikos 1984, p. 82; Themelis and Touratsoglou 1997, p. 49. 67. See, e.g., Themelis and Touratsoglou 1997, p. 90, nos. Β86, Β131– Β133, pl. 102. Besides the two from the monument in Isthmia VII, pp. 46–47, 49, three more were identified in spring 2008. 68. Isthmia II, p. 120, n. 3, pl. 48:a (left). Several more will be published in Hayes’s volume on the Hellenistic and Roman pottery. For the relatively long period of production of these vases (and their use in northern Greece and elsewhere), see Agora XXXIII, pp. 142–147; in Macedonian warrior graves, Themelis and Touratsoglou 1997, pp. 37–38, 77, 131, nos. Α16, Β139, Η3, pls. 45, 147, not necessarily made immediately before burial.

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H is tory an D a rC H ae oLo Gy: Corin tH a n D M aC eD on i a

69. Demaratos and Deinarchos: Berve 1926, vol. 2, pp. 130, 133, nos. 248, 253, with details. Their wealth and loyal service to Timoleon and Philip suggest oligarchic sympathies. 70. Salmon 1984, pp. 341, 344–345.

In the same quarter century or so as the expansion of the West Foundation, from the 350s to ca. 320 b.c., Corinth’s engagement with Macedonia expanded—from the personal friendship of Philip II, from early in his reign, with two Corinthian cavalry officers, Demaratos and Deinarchos, to actual Macedonian military and political control of Corinth, from 338 b.c. Both of these processes, roughly simultaneous, were not always untroubled. The historical evidence needs to be explored here in some detail in order to show what we can reasonably claim to know about this engagement. Suggestions will be made, with all due reserve, as to how far this political process might have correlated with the development of the West Foundation’s three stages, especially in view of its arguable Macedonian parallels. That these two Corinthians, Demaratos and Deinarchos, conspicuously and actively supported Philip II, even from early in his reign (359–336 b.c.), is stated by Demosthenes himself (18.295). He says they did so even before Philip grew strong, thus well before 350 b.c. at the latest. There is no need to think he is retrojecting their activities, which he denounces with contempt and ire. He is certainly not praising them for any altruistic help for the then young king, who faced many real dangers in his early years. What Plutarch says (Alex. 9.6, 37.4) on Demaratos’s long-standing friendship with Philip and Alexander is consistent with Demosthenes’ account. So we may take it that both Demaratos and Deinarchos really did somehow assist Philip in the 350s b.c., perhaps before he was in a position seriously to assist them. Of course, we do not know and cannot guess just when and how they did so. Least of all may we confidently relate the first creation of our monument to them in particular, for example, as some sort of pro-Macedonian gesture, for we do not know who built it or when or why. But we may be sure that both these leading Corinthians would have known these facts as they, like thousands of others, will often have passed by the unusual new mound, so deliberately placed right by the road between Corinth and Isthmia, Corinth’s very own valued and prestigious panhellenic festival center, so intensely frequented at the biennial Isthmian Games. Just who were these two? Notably, Demosthenes fails to denounce them, in addition to other charges he made, as actually low-born (as he does his rival Aeschines). Thus they were undeniably well-born. Serving as cavalry officers too they must both have been well-off, as Demaratos most certainly was (even before he went to Sicily in 343 b.c.; see below on Bucephalus). For these and other reasons they were doubtless among the aristocratic oligarchs who still controlled Corinth despite their own rivalries and challenges from below.69 No doubt self-serving and at least genteelly out for gain, they would look to Philip II to preserve what they may always sincerely have believed to be Corinth’s best interests within and beyond the Peloponnese, precisely because they were those of her oligarchs and perhaps because some rival oligarchs still remained pro-Spartan. From the late 5th century the Spartan friends and protectors of Corinth and her oligarchs had failed them increasingly often. Sparta had, contrary to Corinth’s and Thebes’ wishes, spared Athens in 404 b.c. in order, as some would think, to keep her restive allies dependent on her.70 Later Sparta

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actually looted the Corinthia or, at best, failed to defend it, while Athens in her turn sometimes defended it but at another time even plotted to seize Corinth.71 By the mid-360s Sparta was crippled by defeat at Leuctra, by the loss of Messenia, and by other blows in a very new political and military landscape. The Corinthian oligarchs now had no choice but to turn neutral.72 Worse, by the 350s, Dionysios II’s weakness and Dion’s meddling meant that Syracuse could no longer send her mother city, Corinth, fine cavalry, warships, and the magnificent missions to Olympia and doubtless Isthmia also.73 Instead, many desperate and potentially dangerous refugees fled from the chaos caused by the tyrants and rapacious mercenaries, many barbarian, now disrupting Sicily and no doubt diminishing the western trade that Corinth still relied on (in corn imports not least).74 Her trade (and her investment in it), as well as her land, had suffered considerably since the late 5th century.75 No wonder, then, that some rich Corinthian oligarchs such as Demaratos and Deinarchos, even before Philip II’s strength became really significant (so before ca. 350 b.c.), farsightedly became his enthusiastic supporters. These two could well have warmed to Philip, always a commander who fought in the front rank, usually on horseback, an officer’s as well as a soldier’s general. To his superb aristocratic Macedonian cavalry he added, from 352 b.c., the similarly excellent oligarchic horsemen of Thessaly. All these fought in concert now alongside his reformed, re-equipped, and, after 353 b.c., unbeaten infantry. What is more, from 356 b.c. he owned the gold and silver mines at Crenides. These two Corinthian cavalry officers could well have been further impressed by his charm, wit, and not least his generosity toward his friends from the Greek cities he sought to influence, by his lively banquets, and in particular with his impressive equestrian victories at Olympia as at other Greek festivals, Isthmia doubtless among them.76 From Philip’s point of view, as well-born and oligarchic cavalry commanders of Corinth, a city too weak since the later 5th century to try to manipulate the Argeads as others still tried, Demaratos and Deinarchos would be most welcome as his envoys’ and representatives’ hosts at Corinth, as well as his own guests in Macedonia. These included the 25 other friends that Philip II had made in Greek states from Thessaly southward as far as Sparta’s neighbors, Messene, Elis, Arkadia and Argos (Dem. 18.295).77 In fact, Sparta’s vindictive irredentism was still potentially a deadly threat to all her neighbors. Even when Philip’s military power had begun to advance southward from Thessaly to Delphi and Phokis, his aid would seem to all these friends a valuable and safe potential counterweight, as also (to Corinthians) one against the increased pretensions of Argos and Arkadia.78 In this context, around 350 b.c., the appearance of the first stage of the West Foundation, with its form and its offerings, military and civilian, so reminiscent of honorific Macedonian funerary practices, would seem perfectly comprehensible. Very probably the initial founding rites (including the deliberate bending of weapons) recalled them too; surely some of those involved were Corinthians, while others may have been of Macedonian origin.79 Any rivals, die-hard pro-Spartans perhaps, would loathe the new monument, so different from Corinthian (and Spartan) practice in

71. Salmon 1984, pp. 350–354, 362–370, 378–379. 72. Salmon 1984, pp. 379–381. 73. Dionysios I’s cavalry: Xen. Hell. 7.1.21–22, 28–32; Diod. Sic. 15.70.1. His display at Olympia: Diod. Sic. 14.109.1, 15.7.2 (no doubt also at the very popular Isthmian Games). 74. Refugees: Plut. Tim. 23; Talbert 1974, esp. pp. 146–160; McKechnie 1989, pp. 22–45. 75. Salmon 1984, pp. 176–178, 371–386. 76. Hammond and Griffith 1979, pp. 203–295; their stables in Corinth could have helped his teams on such occasions. 77. Cf. Dem. 18.295–296; 19.196– 206, 225–233, 259–262. 78. Hammond and Griffith 1979, pp. 474–483, 496–504. Weak states seeking to play one stronger power against another are a theme of Demosthenes’ speech on Megalopolis (Dem. 16). John Ma (pers. comm.) suggested to me that Argos and Arkadia would also have given Corinth concerns then. 79. See n. 64, above, for the offerings and the rites.

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burials. Other, less political Corinthians might, at that early stage, think it merely outlandish, even a crazy bet placed on Macedonia, a small cloud still on their northern horizon about which even many Athenians ignored Demosthenes’ warnings.80 All too soon in the 340s, however, Demaratos’s and Deinarchos’s friendship with Philip may have begun to count seriously against them in Corinth. It may well be true, of course, that perhaps by about 347 or 346 b.c. (certainly before 343 b.c. when they both went off to Sicily) Demaratos had given Alexander, Philip’s brilliantly promising heir and Olympias’s cherished son, the outstandingly expensive gift of Bucephalus, one of the costliest and shrewdest long bets ever placed on a horse, and on a prince.81 That act, however, would not endear those wealthy celebrities to poorer Corinthians, nor to any surviving pro-Spartan rivals. Worse, in 348 b.c., Philip sacked Olynthos (where earlier Potidaians of Corinthian ancestry had fled to). Then in 346 b.c. Philip deprived Corinth of her place among Delphi’s Amphictyons.82 No wonder that in 343 b.c. Demaratos and Deinarchos wisely followed Timoleon to Sicily on what had seemed at first a rash gamble.83 All too soon, in 342 b.c., Philip menaced Corinth’s loyal colony Ambrakia,84 and in 338 b.c. Corinthians with other Greeks (except the Spartans) were killed at Chaironeia by Macedonian weapons.85 The first stage of the West Foundation, its Macedonian weapons furiously remembered, could have been attacked as a treacherous Philippizing intrusion, perhaps more than once between 348 and 338 b.c. After Chaironeia Philip swept through the Isthmus and forced Corinth to surrender and accept his garrison and no doubt domination, de facto at least by his partisans still in or returning to the city. The destruction of the first stage of the monument is unlikely to have continued after this forcible regime change. As for Demaratos and Deinarchos, we do not know how glorious or base a role they played in Chaironeia’s immediate sequel. But by 337 b.c. Demaratos certainly was back in Greece and Corinth (and in Macedonia), enriched by Sicilian and Punic loot and covered in military and panhellenic glory after helping Timoleon crush Carthage’s charioteers, and citizen and mercenary barbarian infantry, at the Krimisos River. Their knowledge of how such forces could be defeated would have been much valued by Philip, 80. For those still unconcerned about Philip, the underwhelmed reaction at Athens to Demosthenes’ First Philippic (Dem. 4; 351 or 350 b.c.) is evidence; Hammond and Griffith 1979, pp. 297–315. 81. Demaratos’s long-standing friendship: Plut. Alex. 9.6, 37.4. Bucephalus: Diod. Sic. 17.76.6 (contrast Plut. Alex. 6.1, not necessarily irreconcilable if Demaratos bought Bucephalus from Philoneicus and gave him to Philip and Alexander; Gell. NA 5.2). See also Anderson 1930; Hamilton 1969, pp. 14–15; Bosworth

1995, pp. 312–315; Arr. Anab. 5.19.4–6. If Demaratos did pay for Bucephalus, Alexander, though reared in the saddle but rather short in stature, could have had to be around ten to ride so powerful a warhorse so successfully. So this could have been in or not long before 346 b.c. Demaratos’s gift of a warhorse to Alexander then, and his risking his life for him in 334 b.c., resemble the conduct of a devoted erastes. But no surviving source, however hostile, presents him as such. One could thus argue that both incidents are historical, not the fantasy of malicious or idle gossip.

Even Hammond, so alert to condemn other traditions about Philip and Alexander as mere scandalmongering, accepts the gifts and the incident at the Granicus as probably historical: Hammond 1981, pp. 25–26, 36–37; 1993, pp. 14–16. 82. Diod. Sic. 16.60.2; Salmon 1984, p. 382. 83. Plut. Tim. 16, 21.2, 24.4; McKechnie 1989, pp. 39–42. 84. Hammond and Griffith 1979, pp. 507–509. 85. Dem. 18.237.

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Alexander, and their commanders, dreaming now of far-flung conquests eastward (and even perhaps already westward).86 Perhaps these two long-standing, loyal friends of Philip (and/or other Corinthians who had been or just now unexpectedly revealed themselves as his secret friends as his garrison marched up into Acrocorinth) helped to construct the big new oblong tumulus, with its Macedonian character now even more glaring. It would make sense then with its ornamental revetment replacing and protecting its wrecked predecessor, beside the great road between Corinth and Isthmia, both now in Philip’s and Alexander’s military and diplomatic grip. Of course, to assert that it appeared exactly then and thus not earlier or later would be needlessly rash speculation. But it would in fact be equally rash speculation to insist that we should consider it a mere innocent and inoffensive coincidence, a trivial change of funerary fashion. Funerals and funeral memorials, then as all too conspicuously today, could be highly explosive flashpoints for the bitterest of political, as well as social, ambitions and rivalries. At any rate, whether sycophants or patriots, genuinely useful to occupied Corinth as a whole or profiteering quislings ruthlessly crushing rivals with Macedonian help and seizing their estates, our two known friends of the Argeads now found their long bet paying off richly, compensating for any embarrassment in the 340s b.c. Both still served the Argeads loyally and were honored in return. Deinarchos was epistates of the Peloponnese under Antipater, Alexander’s commander in Macedonia and Greece. Whatever his exact duties, he would have been in a position to build or help the unknown builders of the third and far more grandiose masonry stage of the West Foundation. If, as is likeliest, this stage dates to the late 330s or the 320s b.c., to which its ornamental parapet can be dated, Persia’s huge treasures were now Alexander’s booty. The cost of its construction would have been small change to the Macedonians and their friends, whoever built it. As a well-sited focus for braying parades of collaborationists and Macedonian garrison troops, it could have seemed a sickening and humiliating eyesore to others. Their enemies in the Lamian War (323–322 b.c.) could have wrecked it, or Deinarchos’s own enemies who murdered him in 318 b.c. might have been responsible,87 or others when, as their Greek enemies saw matters, the Macedonian thieves fell out and fell upon one another. Just because its ruins are so tranquil today and so remote from modern main roads we should not blithely assume that its short lifetime was peaceful throughout. The better-recorded career of Demaratos from 337 b.c. to his death and spectacular funeral by Alexander in Bactria in 327 b.c. shows still more loyal devotion to the Argead kings, rewarded by unusually conspicuous honors, significantly in death as in life. Demaratos played a very important role in the preparations and conduct of the invasion of the Persian Empire. A very revealing and probably reliable anecdote illustrates this (Plut. Alex. 9.6). It assumes that in 337 b.c. Philip, after meeting and exchanging polite greetings with Demaratos, took it for granted that he, as an old friend and a leading citizen of Corinth, could be relied on at once and first and foremost to supply accurate and invaluable information on relations between the Greek states on the tense eve of the intended invasion of Persia. This is not

86. Plut. Tim. 24–29. 87. Berve 1926, vol. 2, p. 130, no. 248; Suda, s.v. Δειναρχος; [Dem.] ep. 6. The Lamian War: John Ma (pers. comm.) suggested this as an occasion. Deinarchos’s murder: Plut. Phoc. 33.5–6.

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surprising. For Corinth, not least during the very well attended Isthmian Games held every two years, was probably a very important central Greek information exchange. Very possibly, in the late 5th century, as Stroud argues, the exiled Thucydides had lived and gathered information there. More certainly, Xenophon had done so, even if with less insight and skill.88 To rely further on this anecdote, the now elderly Demaratos’s moral authority within the Argead house and his total commitment to the success of the projected attack on Persia can be seen in his instant and impatient brushing aside of Philip’s question and his forceful and effective warning to the king of the extraordinarily grave dangers of Philip’s current quarrel with Alexander to their own positions, hopes, and plans.89 There is no reason to doubt the existence and gravity of that quarrel, nor to question Demaratos’s Nestor-like ability to persuade even Philip and Alexander, two of the most Homerically strong-willed and formidable Argeads ever, of the wisdom of reconciliation, so vitally important to Alexander’s career and ultimate success.90 Alexander inherited Philip’s Corinthian supporters, and continued to benefit from their loyalty. Demaratos, as tough as Parmenio or other old warriors of the time, actually gave the king his own lance in midbattle and so saved Alexander’s life at the risk of his own, thus enabling Alexander to win the absolutely crucial first victory at the Granicus River in 334 b.c.91 The old man’s reported tears at seeing Alexander on Darius III’s throne in 330 b.c. were doubtless real, spontaneous, and sincere.92 Demaratos could have hoped, desperately at times, as Isocrates had done since 346 b.c., that his Argead friends would ultimately make oligarchic Greece safe from Persia, from Sparta, and from other Greek rivals (and especially from genuine democracy) by cutting off all they could of the Persian Empire and settling distressed Greeks in it who, as mercenaries and robbers hitherto, 88. For Corinth and Corinthians as good sources of relatively unbiased intelligence (Corinth could now hardly afford to bully Macedon): Stroud 1994, esp. pp. 302–304, for Thucydides’ possible use of Corinth as a center of information; Cartledge 1987, p. 61, for Xenophon’s residence there. Many visitors, elated by their good fortune, could have been informatively indiscreet in front of the Mata Haris of the time, in Corinth or in the tents at the Isthmian Games. 89. Demaratos, an old man in 327 b.c., could have been born before or around 400 b.c. He is described as a friend of the Argead house enjoying parrhesia in Plut. Alex. 9.6, and in 37.4 as Alexander’s patröos philos, which may well mean a hereditary guest-friend of the Argeads (not just a Johnny-comelately opportunist friend of Philip, his father). He must have been formidably

sagacious and tactful to have survived the sometimes explosive banquets and the often tempestuous quarrels of the dysfunctional Argeads. 90. Not even Hammond (1981, pp. 35–42) doubts that there was a serious rift between Philip and Alexander in 337 b.c., and neither would have lost face by admitting that the esteemed Demaratos, older than both, had reconciled them. This is then hardly the mere fantasy of some rhetorical historian inventing a stock “wise adviser.” Likewise Demaratos does not appear warning Alexander before his own death in Bactria in 327 b.c. against, e.g., marrying Roxana, invading India, etc. This silence could be further proof that the tradition about him is not seriously contaminated by rhetoric, drama, or idle gossip. 91. Arr. Anab. 1.15.5–8. There is no need to dismiss this as rhetorical or

dramatic invention; who would gain by attributing this to Demaratos, dead in 327 b.c., if it were not true? The doubts of Bosworth (1980, pp. 122–123) about the elderly Demaratos’s vigor in 334 led him to postulate an otherwise totally unknown younger homonym. This is unnecessary: he had just fought very actively in Sicily. At Ipsos, Antigonos Monophthalmos died in the battle line at 81 (Diod. Sic. 21.1.4; Plut. Demetr. 28–29). See also Jones 1957, p. 83; Kebric 1988; Hammond 1993, p. 15, n. 24. 92. Plut. Alex. 37.4 and 56. Hammond (1981, p. 196) dates this later but accepts it. If (as is probable) the tears were sincere, they could suggest that the elderly Demaratos had recently survived a stroke and was emotionally rather frail as a result, but totally dedicated to Argead success.

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had caused grave political, social, and economic instability in the Greek states. Timoleon had similarly tried to revive Greek Sicily.93 Unsurprisingly, but intriguingly, in 327 b.c. when at last, loyally following Alexander into the depths of Bactria, Demaratos died of age and illness, Alexander honored his distinguished old family guest-friend, adviser, and companion, in and out of battle, with especially magnificent funeral rites. After cremation his ashes were borne all the long road home to Corinth in a four-horse chariot, doubtless escorted by cavalry and a baggage train of generous burial gifts and the choicest items of Demaratos’s share of the loot from Bactria and Sogdiana.94 Somewhere in Bactria (in modern Afghanistan) Alexander had a vast cenotaph tumulus heaped up, 80 cubits high (Hephaistion’s own funeral pyre or memorial was to be 130 cubits high).95 So much seems to be undeniable. Perhaps to speculate beyond this, Alexander may have recalled the West Foundation, which he could well have seen more than once, perhaps in more than one form, when at Corinth and Isthmia between 338 and 334 b.c.96 He may now have had it in mind, and the compliment paid by it and its expansion by his and Philip’s long-suffering and faithful Corinthian supporters, whoever they were, Deinarchos, Demaratos especially perhaps, and/or others. Alexander’s choice of a tumulus in particular (and a colossal one as big as a siege mound) to mark his esteemed and generous old friend’s gallantry in following him almost to India may well have been at least in part the grateful conqueror’s recompense for the loyal gesture of the West Foundation. Of course by 327 b.c. it was far more distant than the gift of the ever-present and faithful Bucephalus. But the monument and its arms and other contents could always have been deeply appreciated by the young king, as hated as it must have been by enemies as a sign of polluting barbarism.

Co nCLusion Perhaps the most tantalizing remaining question is the identity of the monument’s honorand. Was he a mythical hero, a Heraclid possibly, tactfully selected to link Dorian Corinth and the Argeads who claimed Heracles as their ancestor? Or was he some Bacchiad, mortal or mythical, linked somehow with the Argeads as the Bacchiads were also linked, at least by Strabo’s time, with the Lyncestian royal ancestors of Philip’s own mother, Eurydice?97 Or was he actually a real or mythical forbear of Demaratos or Deinarchos? Or did the monument commemorate some Macedonian envoy of the mid-4th century b.c. who died on a mission to Corinth, like 93. Isoc. 5.120–123. For the oligarchic ideas of Isocrates and Philip’s Greek friends, see Markle 1976; Hammond and Griffith 1979, pp. 614, 696– 698. For a similar obligation on earlier Greek nobles to assist their weaker dependents (by heroic plundering), see Hom. Od. 14.199–234; Thuc. 1.5.1.

94. Plut. Alex. 56. 95. Diod. Sic. 17.115.4. Perhaps some of it survives under a much later stupa: Demaratos’s memorial was as big as Silbury Hill in England. Whether the West Foundation became his memorial in Corinth is unknowable. But its third stage, even with a grand

superstructure, might seem too modest for so honored a Corinthian warrior. 96. Philip and Alexander will have visited Corinth and Isthmia several times between 338 and 334 b.c. 97. Bacchiads and Lyncestian kings: Strabo 7.7.8 [C 326]. Kinship: Herman 1987, esp. pp. 16–29.

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Pythagoras of Selymbria, who died in Athens and was honored with a monument there?98 Elsewhere in the Peloponnese Philip II advertised himself at Olympia with the lavish Philippeion and his loyal supporters honored him with decrees and with bronze statues, and at Megalopolis with a fine stoa.99 Whoever the honorand was, he was presented as if fulfilling the Macedonian nobles’ ideal as warrior and hunter and, to judge from the strikingly numerous strigils, as an athlete, as many Macedonians also aspired to be.100 Our cautious suggestions and questions here may one day prove unnecessary. The monument’s development might be down-dated with some future revision of ceramic chronology. Or weapons like those discussed may appear in contexts of their apparent dates and in areas in which no Macedonians or their friends or emulators were ever active, and so abundantly that these weapons may seem less exclusively Macedonian than they do now. Their shared characteristics, however, combined with the solid historical evidence that, long before Philip’s garrison occupied Acrocorinth, his two known Corinthian friends were active in his interest and always remained so, may justify the tentative juxtaposition of archaeology and history here.101 98. Athenian public funeral honors for their Selymbrian proxenos Pythagoras: IG I3 1154; Herman 1987, pp. 135– 136, fig. 13. 99. Dem. 19.261; Paus. 8.30.6. 100. Ath. 12.539c; Harris 1964, pp. 40–41; Whitley 2002. 101. Since this chapter was submitted for publication, Late Classical Corinthian pottery has been significantly down-dated (Sanders et al. 2014, esp. pp. 47–74), but this view has yet to be fully assessed. Recently, Michael Dixon, who has seen the penultimate

form of this chapter, accepts in general the link between the West Foundation and Philip and Alexander, but suggests, with rather greater confidence than the author (cf. n. 95, above), that its final stage was grand enough to commemorate Demaratos himself, whom Alexander had honored so spectacularly with the colossal tumulus in Bactria (Dixon 2014, esp. pp. 15–29, 114–115). It is hoped that, when all the weapons found in the West Foundation are fully published, these views can be further considered.

c hap ter 10

ne w S c u l p t u r e s f r om t h e ist h m i an Pal ai mon i on by Mary C. Sturgeon

This study presents reconstructions of two statues from the Palaimonion at Isthmia, which are recomposed using fragments from marble piles. The date, identification, and placement of these statues and their associates within the sanctuary are discussed. The primary figure is identified as Publius Licinius Priscus Iuventianus, the leading patron of the Antonine sanctuary and the builder of the Antonine temple of Palaimon. His statue would have been accompanied by those of three initiates, possibly an imperial group, Blastos, a prophet, and Sisyphos, the founder of the Isthmian Games. Pan and his companions also form part of the marble dedications in the Palaimonion.

tH e Mu s e u M MarBLe P iLe Oscar Broneer conducted excavations in the sanctuaries of Poseidon and Palaimon on behalf of the University of Chicago between 1952 and 1967.1 The inventoried sculptures from his excavations were published in Isthmia IV (1987).2 In preparation for a campaign in 1989, Elizabeth Gebhard directed a thorough cleaning of the sanctuary during the preceding summer. During this operation five baskets that contained fragments of worked marble, mostly sculpture, were discovered stacked against an unexcavated scarp north of the museum.3 By the time the Isthmia Museum was dedicated in 1978, the baskets with marble fragments, originally found 1. I thank Elizabeth Gebhard, Director of the University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia, for permission to study these sculptures. Research on this material was partially supported by grants from the University Research Council of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, for which I am grateful. The photographs are the work of the late Michiel Bootsman; the reconstruction drawings by Veronica Remaly of Wichita State University. All illustrations are courtesy of the University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia

unless otherwise indicated. I thank Mary Fournier for help obtaining photographs, and Nancy Bookidis, John Camp, Nigel Kennell, Mary Richardson, J. B. Rives, Barbette Spaeth, and Catherine de G. Vanderpool for helpful suggestions. A preliminary notice of this study appeared as Sturgeon 1996. 2. Broneer published the Temple of Poseidon, the architecture of the sanctuary, and the lamps in Isthmia I–III, respectively. Gebhard presented the Theater (1973), and I published the sculpture in Isthmia IV (1987). For

reports of the 1989 season, see Gebhard and Hemans 1992, 1998; Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998. 3. The scarp is about 15 m northwest of the Antonine temple of Palaimon. The marble fragments were deposited just outside the door of the wooden shed that housed excavation materials before construction of the Museum, visible in Isthmia II, pls. 33:b, 38:c. With removal of the structure after completion of the Museum, the scarp disappeared from view.

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Pit C

Palaimonion Temple

South Building

N

0

during Broneer’s excavations, had been covered by one meter of building material from the museum construction as well as by leaves and other debris. They had been long forgotten by the time I began my investigation of Isthmia sculptures. Since its rediscovery in 1988, this material, referred to as the “Museum marble pile,” has been studied in comparison with all sculptures found in the Poseidon and Palaimon sanctuaries in order to identify pieces that could be joined or associated.4 Not considered worthy of inventory at the time of excavation, the Museum marble pile consists primarily of small drapery fragments, segments of statues’ limbs, and other objects. No record of findspot was preserved with or on these fragments (the original cardboard tags having disintegrated), but joins onto pieces with recorded findspots indicate that the majority came to light in April of 1958 in the west area of the Palaimonion, phase V (Fig. 10.1; for the phases of the Palaimonion, see Plan D). While embarking on this discovery the excavator wrote: “numerous small fragments found,” and later, “many more fragments of marble,” and later, “thousands.” The notebook indicates that this group was excavated immediately south and north of the Palaimon temple and in the passage through the podium; inventoried sculptures were also recorded as discovered in these areas.5 During excavation two years earlier a concentration of marble chips and sculpture

5

15 m

Figure 10.1. Palaimonion at isthmia: (top) restored plan, later antonine period, phase V; (bottom) actual-state plan. After Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes

1998, figs. 4, 8.

4. As detailed in the catalogue at the end of this chapter, fragments from the Museum marble pile join or make up sculptures 1, 2, 4, and 10. 5. Many small marble chips were found, with recognizable pieces from marble sculptures (R. E. Carter, NB 18, pp. 14, 15, 19, 20, 30–38). Inventoried sculptures: Isthmia IV, pp. 123–126, 138–142, 148, 153, nos. 45–48, 64–83, 97, 118–120.

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fragments ca. 0.65 m thick was found on the north side of the temple and by the south precinct wall.6 This material was related to a densely packed mass of marble chips and marble dust that covered the temple. The discovery of so many marble fragments in one area might at first suggest that they had been collected to be burned in a lime kiln. Many pieces are small slivers and could easily have been taken to the kiln. Examination of their worked surfaces, on the contrary, indicates that the statues from which these marbles derive were intentionally broken, as many exhibit marks from a heavy blunt instrument such as a hammer or point, often in the middle of finished drapery surfaces (see, e.g., 1a, 1C). In these cases, a tool was struck perpendicularly to the stone, where it created a white, stunned depression, frequently with cracks radiating from it. Many of these tool marks appear in a row, and some along a line of fracture. Some fragments come from arms and legs, but the majority and smallest derive from the outer parts of draped statues. On a number of larger pieces, as, for example, on fragment IS 321, the destructive blows occur in vertical lines about 4 to 9 cm apart. The location of the blows along drapery folds makes it unlikely that the purpose of the destruction was to extract metal pins from within the statues. In addition, some of the hammer marks, as on 4B, occur in the middle of the leg. The shape of the fragments and the hammering suggest that these pieces resulted from the intentional and systematic reworking of several sculptures.7 It would seem that a stoneworker, marmorarius, had been assigned the task of converting marble statues into regularly shaped blocks.8 This may have occurred sometime after the sanctuary was sacked by Alaric in a.d. 396. The resulting ashlar blocks were likely used in building the fortification wall across the Isthmus, the Hexamilion, which Timothy Gregory has dated to the early 5th century a.d. (ca. a.d. 410–420).9 In addition, few statue bases or statue plinths were found during the excavations at Isthmia, perhaps owing to their usefulness as building material.10 Small cylindrical pieces, such as arms and legs, would not have been desirable for building, however. They were discarded around the temple and thrown as fill into the Palaimonion passage in the second half of the 5th or early 6th century. The last sacrificial pit (C) went out of use around a.d. 220–240, according to the latest pottery.11 6. See NB 9, pp. 52–53, 74; NB 11, passim. 7. There is no evidence to suggest that the destruction of the sculptures at Isthmia was an intentional damnatio memoriae or a “spontaneous statuedestruction” by a crowd; on these types of destruction, see Stewart 2003, pp. 267–278. 8. On marmorarius as referring to a mason and stoneworker as well as a sculptor, see Strong and Claridge 1976, p. 195; so used in Vitr. De arch. 7.6. 9. On the destruction, see Beaton and Clement 1976; Isthmia IV, p. 2. Evidence for activity in the central sanctuary, however, declines abruptly ca. a.d. 220–240 (Hayes 1993, p. 114; Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998,

p. 446). For the Hexamilion date, see Isthmia V, pp. 142, 144 (initial construction ca. a.d. 410–420, rebuilt under Justinian after a.d. 550). Pottery and coins in destruction deposits indicate that dismantling of the Palaimonion and South Stoa continued through the second half of the 5th century and possibly into the first half of the 6th (E. R. Gebhard, pers. comm.). 10. Statue base of Nikias: Broneer 1959, pp. 324–326; Isthmia IV, p. 10 (bronze statue set up in prodromos of Temple of Poseidon, the inscription recording his skill as orator, agonothetes, in public offices). Statue base of Ptolemaios: Broneer 1953, p. 192, pl. 59:e; Isthmia IV, p. 10 (an agonothetes, found in pronaos of Poseidon temple); cf.

Themison inscription: Broneer 1953, pp. 192–193, pl. 59:f. Base of seated child with goose: Isthmia IV, no. 25 (from the Sacred Glen). For plinths with parts of statues: Isthmia IV, nos. 26 (seated child with hare), 33 (tree trunk support from Hermes), and 45D (Pan). From UCLA excavations: two bases from Roman Bath, Isthmia VI, pp. 3, 57, possibly for an Apollo and Athena; feet with plinths, Isthmia VI, nos. 15, 16, 34, 35. 11. John Hayes, who has studied the pottery, has confirmed this date: Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998, p. 446; Hayes, forthcoming. For the final demolition of the shrine, see n. 9, above.

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tH e Pa LaiM onion GrouP ( 1 – 4) re const ruc t ion Reconstruction drawings of two statues, 1 and 2 (Figs. 10.2, 10.3), were enabled by the association of sections of meaningful size. These sections are sufficiently distinctive to support discussion and analysis.

Pal aimon ion S tat ue 1 Palaimonion statue 1 (Fig. 10.2) is reconstructed from three sizable pieces of the same scale and marble: 1a, the upper right torso; 1B, the right arm; and 1C, the draped left thigh. As reconstructed, the over-life-size male figure stands frontally with the right arm held down, perhaps holding a patera, while the left was probably held against the body. A cutting on the inside of the upper edge of 1a indicates that the head was inset. The figure wears a tunic (1a), which adheres closely to the chest and is articulated by low, ridged folds, and a mantle, which would have been draped over the left shoulder and around the waist, leaving the right shoulder and arm free. Some of the folds bunched around the right hip survive. A drapery edge forms an S-pattern over the left thigh and knee, and the edge of the mantle is undercut just below the knee (1C). A small strut once connected the right arm (1B) to the figure’s side. This arm was subsequently attached to the figure by a small metal pin and a larger dowel as an ancient repair.12 The statue may have fallen and been damaged due to insufficient support.13 The marble appears to be Pentelic. It is clear that Palaimonion statue 1 wears a Greek himation, for a toga would have a curved edge crossing the front, and would not have a series of overlapping folds and a corner above the knee.14 A statue from the Nymphaeum of Herodes Atticus at Olympia of ca. a.d. 150 provides a good example of a togatus from Roman Greece.15 The Isthmia mantle must be interpreted as rectangular, as the lower edge is straight and two drapery edges and a tassel rest against the left leg. As reconstructed, the Isthmia figure follows the tradition of Late Hellenistic and Early Imperial Greek portrait sculpture exemplified by statues from Kos.16 This tradition is reflected in statues from 2nd-century Greece, as in the pose and costume of the statue of Tiberius Claudius Atticus, father of Herodes Atticus, also from the Olympia Nymphaeum.17 On that figure some renderings of the drapery are quite similar, as where folds of the short-sleeved tunic are pressed in low ridges against the torso, but some differences also exist. The bunch of the Olympia mantle crosses the torso at a higher level and in a straighter line, in contrast to the slightly sagging bunch at Isthmia. In the Olympia figure the drapery before the left leg, which is thick and complex, makes the folds at Isthmia appear flatter and more stylized by comparison. The Olympian’s hem falls to mid-left calf and reaches nearly to the right ankle, but the hem of the Isthmian garment is positioned higher, just beneath the left knee. Hence, more of the Isthmian himation was probably pulled up into the roll encircling the hips, similar to the statue of a priest from the East Bouleuterion at Aphrodisias in which the himation is pulled above the left knee, exposing the lower edge of the chiton beneath the knee.18

12. Such joins are fairly common in sculpture from the Roman East, especially in statues that stood for a long time and were possibly adapted to new uses. Cf., e.g., repaired portraits from Aphrodisias (Smith et al. 2006, p. 33). 13. The sanctuary appears to have been deserted already by the mid-3rd century; thus, the damage is not likely to have been caused by an earthquake, as those known occurred in Corinth in the 70s and a.d. 362: Corinth VIII.3, p. 165; Guidoboni, Comastri, and Traina 1994, pp. 213, 261–262, nos. 100, 150; Papadopoulos 2000, p. 17, nos. 16, 17. 14. Toga: Goette 1990, esp. color pls. 5, 6; Stone 2001. For a portrait of Hadrian in a toga, Rome, Capitoline Museums, Atrium 5, inv. 54: Kleiner 1992, p. 240, fig. 204. 15. Olympia, Archaeological Museum Λ 153: Bol 1984, pp. 46, 56, no. 32, pls. 24, 25, suppl. pl. 4, Appius Annius Gallus, father of Regilla. On the Nymphaeum, see Tobin 1997, pp. 314–323. 16. Kabus-Preisshofen 1989, pp. 207–218, nos. 33–35 (ca. 160– 150 b.c.), 36, 37 (mid-1st century a.d.); Smith 1998, pp. 65, 66; Smith et al. 2006, pp. 37, 38, 152, 155. 17. Olympia, Archaeological Museum Λ 152: Bol 1984, pp. 106, 169–171, no. 35, pls. 30, 31, suppl. pl. 4; p.H. (neck to ankle) 1.69 m. 18. Aphrodisias 72-440: Hallett 1998, pp. 69–76, fig. 14, detail of lower chiton edge; Smith et al. 2006, pp. 158– 160, no. 41, pls. 30, 31, late 1st century b.c.–early 1st century a.d.

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1A

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2D 2A

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1C 2H

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Figure 10.2 (left). reconstruction of statue 1. Drawing V. Remaly Figure 10.3 (right). reconstruction of statue 2. Drawing V. Remaly

The position of the right arm, held down with palm forward, also seems analogous to the Olympia Atticus. Comparison of measurements between the Isthmian (length of forearm, 0.30 m; distance from shoulder to waist, 0.57 m) and Olympia statues suggests an original height of ca. 2.15 m for the Isthmia figure and a width at the shoulders of ca. 0.65–0.76 m. Three 2nd-century portraits from Asia Minor present the same basic costume and pose; as their heads are preserved, they may provide an impression of the Isthmia statue’s overall appearance. An over-life-size bronze statue from Kadirli near Adana wears this familiar costume with

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minor variations.19 The mantle is a bit longer, and the drapery fall before the left leg adheres closely to the body. This figure has been dated to the Hadrianic or Early Antonine period and has been identified as an emperor, Hadrian or Antoninus Pius, due to the jewel in its wreath. The identification and dating are disputed, as the statue does not adhere closely to a standard type and the eyes compare better with Antonine than Hadrianic portraits; the bronze may represent a prominent local official or priest, influenced by imperial portrait types.20 Other statues from the Greek East also adopt a longer mantle than that at Isthmia. An Early Antonine figure from Perge wears his himation to midcalf and ankle,21 and the himation of a mid-2nd-century statue from Ephesus reaches both ankles.22 In the Ephesus figure the garment is very three-dimensional, especially where it crosses the torso in a bunch and hangs from the left arm.Thus, even though the shorter mantle of the Isthmia figure appears somewhat unusual, it is corroborated by the deep undercutting of the edge beneath the clearly modeled knee, and on a sculpture that has considerably less volume than do its Asia Minor counterparts. The Isthmia tassel, which lies above the knee, acts as a weight at a corner of the mantle. Such tassels, which are not uncommon, may occur at the side, but here, as in the “Hadrian” from Kyrene, the tassel is placed in front, where it would be more evident to the viewer and clarify the type of garment better.23

Pal aimon ion S tat ue 2 Palaimonion statue 2 (Fig. 10.3) is reconstructed from eight pieces: 2a, right sleeved shoulder and arm; 2B, right hand; 2C, left hand; 2D and 2e, two segments of a torch; 2F, right leg with lower edge of drapery; 2G, left, booted leg on plinth with tree trunk support; and 2H, lower edge of a heavy cloak. The marble resembles that of other sculptures found in the Palaimonion, which Norman Herz identified as Pentelic by means of isotopic analysis.24 Based on the surviving fragments, statue 2 is one of three figures of similar size and type from the Palaimonion, 2–4. Three left hands, 2C, 3C, 4a, hold cylindrical objects in a vertical position, and two right hands, 2B, 3B, rest loosely against a (missing) object, possibly a spear. Parts of six distinct legs or feet survive (three left, 2G, 3F, 4C, two right, 2F, 3D, and one undetermined, 4B) wearing short boots, or caligae, laced with a single knot.25 The legs of 2 are bare between the knees and boots and are not attached to a garment in back. This figure was carved in a single piece with the plinth (2G), which would have been wide with a straight front edge. 19. Kadirli statue, Istanbul, Archaeological Museum 5311: Inan and Rosenbaum 1966, pp. 17, 71–72, no. 35, pl. 23; H. 2.06 m. 20. For eyes, cf. Antoninus Pius from Alabanda, Istanbul (Inan and Rosenbaum 1966, p. 74, no. 39, pl. 25:2, 3 [pupils outlined, not drilled]), not a precise version of an official type. 21. Perge statue, Antalya, Archaeological Museum 10.23.72: Antalya,

p. 60; Inan and Alföldi-Rosenbaum 1979, pp. 252–253, no. 230, pls. 161:4, 164; H. 2.03 m. 22. Ephesus, East Baths, Izmir, Archaeological Museum 648: Inan and Rosenbaum 1966, p. 128, no. 151, pls. 83:4, 87:1, 2 (Flavius Damianus); Dillon 1996 (identified as one of the Vedii Antonini); Smith 1998, p. 82, pl. 11:1, 2. 23. Kyrene, Apollo Temple, Lon-

don, British Museum 1381: Rosenbaum 1960, pp. 51–52, no. 34, pls. 26:1, 2, 27:1; Niemeyer 1968, p. 90, no. 31, pl. 9:1; Zanker 1995, p. 218, fig. 115. The head has been disassociated from the body: Opper 2008, pp. 68–70. 24. Isthmia IV, p. 189, no. 66. 25. On the caliga, see Croom 2000, p. 62, fig. 16; on the more elaborate calceus, see Goette 1988, pp. 449–464, fig. 35 (drawing).

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Reconstruction of the pose of Palaimonion statue 2 is aided by comparison with more complete figures, such as the statue of Trajan in Ostia, which presents the emperor cuirassed as imperator in military guise.26 The Isthmia figure, however, shows no sign of a cuirass.27 If the subject had worn one, the flaps of the cuirass sleeve would be reflected by an edge at the break on 2a or by the shape of the break. The costume here, on the other hand, resembles that of a statue of Septimius Severus in Richmond: short-sleeved tunic, no cuirass, and long, heavy mantle.28 The short sleeve on 2a indicates that the Isthmia figure wears a tunic (chiton), similar to that of a 2nd-century statue with alien head of Commodus in Rome.29 The mantle of the Isthmia statue, unlike the Richmond piece, appears short, as part of its edge hangs beside the left knee with the legs fully finished in back, showing tool marks from undercutting behind the knee. If the mantle had been long, the legs would be carved in relief against it. The object that Palaimonion statue 2 holds in the left hand, which has vertical striations and horizontal bands, resembles casts of torches found in a workshop at Baiae and a marble torch from a Hadrianic statue of Apollo-Helios found at Santa Marinella, near Pyrgi.30 The Isthmia torch fragments also resemble torches held by portraits of Lucilla and Crispina from the Bulla Regia theater of ca. a.d. 182–185/7; these torches, however, are long and extend to the ground.31 It is clear that the Isthmia torches were short, like the torch from Santa Marinella, for the base of 2C ends just beneath the hand. The torch of Palaimonion statue 2 is represented by three nonjoining segments that have a combined length of 0.392 m. Thus, the torch’s original length can be estimated as ca. 0.95 m. The Isthmian statue probably stood ca. 2.10 m tall, based on measurements of the right arm (p.L. 0.359 from midforearm to lower shoulder), left hand (p.L. 0.143, W. 0.19 m), and left foot (p.L. 0.293, W. 0.117 m).32 The width at the shoulders, then, would be ca. 0.62 m.

Pal a imon ion S tat u e s 3 a n d 4 The existence of two additional statues that resemble Palaimonion statue 2 in costume and scale is deduced from the number of similar hands and feet. These sculptures, designated Palaimonion statues 3 and 4, are represented by nine pieces: 3a, right forearm; 3B, right hand; 3C, left hand with object; 3D, right leg with boot; 3e, fragmentary leg with boot; and 26. Trajan, Ostia Museum 23: Stemmer 1978, pp. 15–16, no. I 10, pl. 6:3, H. 1.95 m; Kleiner 1992, pp. 209, 211, fig. 173. The Hadrian on Thasos also has the right arm raised, Archaeological Museum: Stemmer 1978, pp. 86– 87, no. VII 21, pl. 60; H. 2.23 m. 27. Fragments from a number of cuirassed statues were found during Broneer’s excavations at Isthmia—in the Temple of Poseidon, the North Terrace, and the Hexamilion fortress—but no cuirass fragments are known to come from the Palaimonion; Isthmia IV, pp. 135–137, nos. 58–62, pl. 66.

28. Richmond, Virginia Museum of Fine Arts 67-50 (formerly Rome, Giustiniani Collection, and Williams College Museum of Art; H. 2.18 m): McCann 1968, p. 150, no. 41 (head, statue modern); Bieber 1977, pp. 242, 262, fig. 869; Vermeule 1981, p. 343, no. 295 (head pertinent). 29. Rome, Vatican Museums, Museo Chiaramonti 2294: Bieber 1977, p. 220, n. 287, fig. 865; Helbig4 I, pp. 312–313, no. 408 (W. Fuchs); Amelung VatKat, vol. I, p. 13, no. 8, pl. 2. The skirt is undercut in front about 10 cm, does not touch the back

of left leg; back of right leg adheres to the tree trunk (autopsy). 30. Baiae: Landwehr 1985, pp. 57– 60, nos. 22–28, pl. 25. Santa Marinella, in Civitavecchia, Museo Archeologico: Moreno 1994, vol. 1, pp. 143–146, figs. 170, 172. 31. In Tunis, Bardo Museum: Kruse 1975, pp. 32, 210, 253–255, nos. A 37 (Bulla Regia II, Lucilla), A 38 (Bulla Regia III, Crispina), pl. 10:a, b. 32. Cf. other 2nd-century Roman statues such as that of Trajan, Ostia Museum 23: Stemmer 1978, pp. 15–16, no. I 10, pl. 6:3.

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3F, left foot in boot; 4a, left hand with object; 4B, fragmentary lower leg; and 4C, booted left foot. As indicated above, Palaimonion statues 2, 3, and 4 may have resembled each other in type, varying only in the heads. They wear similar laced boots and the legs of each are smoothly carved in back, indicating that the costumes of all three are short. Each holds a cylindrical object, most likely a torch, in the left hand. These pieces are further associated by their excavation context, as most were found in the passage through the temple podium. A few other fragments discovered in the western precinct might belong to one of these figures.33

dat e and inter pre tat ion Based on the sculptural evidence and context, at least four over-life-size statues can be postulated for the Sanctuary of Palaimon at Isthmia. As indicated above, segments of these sculptures came to light on the south and east sides of the temple in the west precinct of the Palaimonion in its fifth period, as well as in the passage that runs through the temple podium.34 Recent investigations have led Gebhard to suggest that the first Palaimon temple at Isthmia, the one without a crypt that is represented on Hadrianic coins, stood on foundations that Broneer had identified as the Roman Altar.35 Gebhard argues further that the Palaimon temple was moved to its present site in the Antonine period, sometime after ca. 161 a.d., and that this is the temple with a crypt that is depicted on Antonine coins, beginning with issues of Lucius Verus (a.d. 161–169).36 The archaeology of the site and the coins, therefore, suggest that these statues were set up in the fifth phase of the Palaimonion, after ca. a.d. 161–168. A date for the sculptures in the second half of the 2nd century a.d. seems commensurate with their style and configuration.

Pal aimon ion S tat ue 1 Palaimonion statue 1 is fragmentary but certain features are prominent. The tunic folds on the chest and in the fall of drapery over the left leg are notably flat and stylized. Heavy rasping is characteristic of the draped surfaces. As described above, comparable treatments occur in the statue of 33. The fragments include: a neck insert, Isthmia IV, no. 64, pl. 68:b; a large drapery segment, no. 79, pl. 69:h; pieces of held objects or statue supports, no. 131, pl. 78:c; no. 132, pl. 78:d; and a rough flame from a torch, no. 123, pl. 77:c; this last piece, p.L. ca. 0.30, is too long to belong to the torch associated with statue 2, est. L. 1.0 m. In my initial publication of the Palaimonion group, I postulated three over-life-size statues based on 19 associated fragments (Isthmia IV, pp. 138– 139, nos. 64–83, mid-2nd century). 34. Fifth period of the Palaimonion:

Isthmia II, pp. 106–109; Gebhard 2005, pp. 92, 197–198, fig. 6.7:a, b. Expansion of the shrine south of the temenos of Poseidon (Palaimonion phase III) occurred ca. a.d. 150 (Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998, pp. 442–443; Gebhard 2005, pp. 192, 197, fig. 6.11). 35. For Broneer’s view: Isthmia II, pp. 73–74 (Roman altar), 109–112 (Temple of Palaimon). For Gebhard’s view: Gebhard 1993b, pp. 89–93; Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998, pp. 416, 417, 438–441, fig. 7 (plan of Hadrianic sanctuary), pl. 72 (reconstruction); Gebhard 2013, pp. 269–271,

figs. 7, 8. For Hadrianic coins: Corinth VI, p. 28, no. 111, pl. 3; Gebhard 1993b, pp. 89, 91, fig. 5; Walbank 2003, p. 346, fig. 20.12:1; Pache 2004, p. 172, fig. 65. 36. For Antonine, Severan coins: Corinth VI, p. 32, no. 151, pl. 4; NCP, p. 11, pl. B:XI–XIII; Isthmia II, p. 110, pl. 42:a, b; Gebhard 1993b, pp. 91, 93; Walbank 2003, p. 346, fig. 20.12:5; Pache 2004, pp. 169–172, figs. 60, 62. The entry in ThesCRA (IV, 2005, pp. 35–36, no. 34, Palaimonion, s.v. Cult Places [A. Seiffert]) lacks changes to the sanctuary’s interpretation.

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Claudius Atticus from the Nymphaeum of Herodes Atticus at Olympia.37 This figure, dated ca. a.d. 150, is similarly of Pentelic marble and Attic manufacture. The rendering of the Isthmian’s drapery appears still flatter where it falls against the body over the chest and leg. These details suggest a date somewhat later than that of the Claudius Atticus at Olympia. The flat, stylized folds of the tunic are similar to those on the man’s tunic in a funerary relief from Ostia of Antonine date.38 The himation worn by Palaimonion statue 1 indicates that its subject is likely to be an individual from the Greek East, not the city of Rome. The over-life-size scale points to a man of some importance, and the costume is commensurate with portraits of officials, benefactors, and priests from the Greek East.39 It is more common for portrait statues in Greece wearing the chiton and himation to follow the 4th-century b.c. statue of Aischines or Sophocles, as shown by statues from Corinth and Athens.40 The Olympia figure, shown pouring a libation, provides the closest analogy for the costume and pose of the Isthmia sculpture. The Olympia statue is identified by inscription as Tiberius Claudius Atticus, senator, consul, and legate of Judea under Trajan, who held the title ἀρχιερεὺς τῶν σεβαστῶν, high priest of the imperial cult.41 Its head is missing, but statues that wear a similar costume (chiton, himation), such as those from Kadirli, Perge, and Ephesus, wear the headgear of a priest (wreath, strophion, or bust-crown).42 None of these statues wears the toga, for the offices commemorated are from Greece and Asia Minor, the Roman provinces of Achaea and Asia. Given the archaeological context, the costume, the open stance, and the probable phiale, it is likely that Palaimonion statue 1, also wrapped in Greek clothing, represents a priest. The function of priest was sometimes combined with other offices, such as sponsor and manager of the games (agonothetes). This is indicated in the relief in the center over the porta regia of the theater at Hierapolis, which honors the emperor, Septimius Severus. At left stands the agonothetes, identified by the inscription above his head. This figure, who wears the same costume as that of Palaimonion statue 1, also wears a crown with four small busts, the bust-crown, which is a common insignia for a high priest in Roman Anatolia.43 Recognition of the statue base would further the Isthmia figure’s identification. Two statue bases were found in the Palaimonion. One is inscribed on both sides with the name of Sisyphos, the legendary first king of Corinth 37. Bol 1984, pp. 169–171, no. 35, pls. 30, 31. 38. Ostia Museum 5: Helbig4 IV, pp. 95–96, no. 3114 (E. Simon); Goette 1990, p. 136, no. Bb111, pl. 23:4. 39. Smith (1998, pp. 63–64; Smith et al. 2006, pp. 154–156) views this costume as typical of priests. On the iconography of priests, see Rumscheid 2000, p. 2, n. 20. By ca. a.d. 210 in Carthage the Greek mantle is worn by various figures associated with scholarly activities, according to Tert. De pallio 6; the seated, Severan statue of the gram-

maticus graecus M. Mettius Epaphroditus (with short-sleeved tunic) is a good example: Rome, Palazzo Altieri, Zanker 1995, pp. 232–233, fig. 126. 40. Bieber 1977, p. 130, figs. 581 (Sophocles: Rome, Vatican Museums), 582 (Aischines: Naples, Museo Nazionale). Corinth: de Grazia 1973, pp. 264– 272, nos. 77–80; Athens: Agora I, pp. 74–77, nos. 57–59, pls. 38–40. 41. Woloch 1973, pp. 163–167; Amelung 1983, vol. I, pp. 21–35, esp. p. 31; vol. 2, pp. 68–69; Bol 1984, pp. 34, 124–129, base no. 13, statue no. 35.

42. Kadirli: Inan and Rosenbaum 1966, pl. 23, double wreath of laurel, myrtle. Perge: Inan and Alföldi-Rosenbaum 1979, pls. 161:4, 164, strophion and bust-crown. Ephesus: Inan and Rosenbaum 1966, pls. 83:4, 87:1, 2, bust-crown. 43. Hierapolis I, pp. 60–63, 66, pls. 1:b, 2 (panel with emperor), 4:a (priest); the inscription reads [Ἀγωνο]θέτης. See Rumscheid 2000, p. 126, no. 24, pl. 14:1–3, and passim, on the bust-crown; on the connection to imperial priests, see Price 1984, pp. 170–171.

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Figure 10.4. Base for statue of iouventianos, priest, Corinth i-1626. Photo J. Herbst

and founder of the Melikertes-Palaimon cult and the Isthmian Games.44 The second displays the name of a prophet, “ΒΛΑΣΤΟΣ ΜΑΝΤΙΣ” (Blastos, prophet).45 Both bases have shallow, irregular cuttings for the insertion of a statue plinth, as appropriate for a marble statue. Palaimonion statue 1, which has a reconstructed height of 2.15 m and width at the shoulders of ca. 0.65–0.76 m, would be too large for the Sisyphos base. It may also be somewhat large for the Blastos base. A third base, however, now in Ancient Corinth, should be considered. This base was found reused in a modern house in New Corinth (Fig. 10.4). Broneer thought it had been brought from Isthmia because the cutting in the upper surface is similar to that of the Blastos base (Fig. 10.5),46 and the letter forms and tooling are analogous. The depth of the cutting for the statue also corresponds well with the projected size of Palaimonion statue 1. The front of this base is inscribed “ΙΟΥΒΕΝΤΙΑΝΟΣ ΙΕΡΕΥΣ” (Iouventianos, priest).47 Thus, the base for the priest Iouventianos may have supported the reconstructed statue in priestly attire that was found in the Palaimonion. 44. Sisyphos base, IΣ 272: Broneer 1958b, p. 22, pl. 9:a; Isthmia IV, p. 10, pl. 80:e; H. 0.34, W. 0.69, Th. 0.578 m; L.H. front, 0.067, back, 0.05 m; cutting for statue plinth: L. front-to-back 0.365–0.398, W. 0.515–0.525, D. 0.04 (front)–0.055 (back) m. On Corinth as the land of Sisyphos: Eur. Medea 1381; on the myths: Gebhard 2005, with references. 45. Blastos base, IΣ 293: Broneer 1958b, p. 22; Isthmia II, p. 112; Isthmia IV, p. 10, pl. 80:f; H. 0.34, W. 0.83, Th. 0.58 m; L.H. 0.06 m; cutting for statue plinth: L. front-to-back 0.445, W. 0.695, D. 0.00 (front)–0.05 (back) m.

46. Broneer 1939, p. 189; 1958b, p. 23; Isthmia II, p. 112. On other antiquities brought from Isthmia to New Corinth and then to Ancient Corinth: portrait head, Corinth S-2415/Isthmia IS 446, Isthmia IV, pp. 142–144, no. 85, found at Isthmia in 1932 by Jenkins and Megaw; herm of Herodes Atticus, Corinth S-1219, found in New Corinth, original location unknown, Corinth IX, p. 88, no. 169; Richter 1965, vol. 3, p. 286, figs. 2044, 2048; Tobin 1997, pp. 73–75, 297. 47. Iouventianos base, Corinth I-1626: Broneer 1939, p. 189; 1958b, p. 23, pl. 9:d; Corinth VIII.3, p. 89,

no. 201; Isthmia II, p. 112, n. 18; H. 0.33, W. 0.82, Th. 0.625 m; L.H. line 1, 0.065, line 2, 0.045 m; cutting for statue plinth: L. front-to-back 0.435, W. 0.68, D. 0.015 (front)–0.05 (back) m; the block is dressed with the point on side and upper surfaces, claw chisel on front face. The irregular depth of the cuttings in the Blastos and Iouventianos bases was designed to receive a specific statue plinth with varied thickness; cuttings for plinths in statue bases at Aphrodisias are similarly coordinated with their intended statues (Smith et al. 2006, p. 137). On iereus, see Potter 1994, p. 221, n. 11.

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Figure 10.5. Base for statue of Blastos, prophet, isthmia IΣ 293. Isthmia IV, pl. 80:f

Broneer identifies this Iouventianos with Publius Licinius Priscus Iuventianus, who is known from several inscriptions found at Corinth and Isthmia.48 He is the subject of the inscription on the Isthmus that Spon and Wheler copied in 1676, now in Verona (IG IV 203), which records his many impressive dedications at Isthmia when he held the title of ἀρχıερεὺς διὰ βίου, high priest for life.49 A second stele, composed of joining segments excavated in the South Stoa at Corinth and in the Fortress at Isthmia, records Priscus’s gift of 50 housing units for athletes at Isthmia, among other contributions. These two stelai are thought to form part of a single text and would have been set up near each other at Isthmia, possibly with a third stele.50 The same person may have donated a statue of Poseidon at Isthmia earlier in his career. Now in Madrid, this statue is dated ca. a.d. 130–140, and an inscription records the dedication “to the Isthmian [god].”51 The phrase Π(οπλιος) ΛΙΚΙΝΙΟΣ / ΠΡΕΙΣΚΟΣ / ΙΕΡΕΥΣ [ΔΙΑ?] ΒΙΟΥ / ΙΣΘΜ[ΙΟ ΘΕΟ] (P. Likinios Preiskos, priest for life, to the Isthmian god) is inscribed on the forehead of a dolphin, which serves as an attribute as well as a 48. Broneer 1939, pp. 188–189; Corinth VIII.2, pp. 53–55, 91–92, nos. 70, 111, with earlier date; Corinth VIII.3, pp. 21, 23, nos. 199–201, 306; Robert 1940; LGPN IIIA, p. 220, only one Iouventianos listed. 49. Broneer 1939, pp. 186–188, fig. 2. On the significance of the title and its use as an honorific title of former high priests, see Larsen 1938, p. 453; Puech 1983. For the title “priest for life” at Eleusis, under Tiberius, see Clinton 1997, p. 167; for the title in Roman Athens, see Grijalvo 2005.

According to Beard, North, and Price (1998, vol. 2, p. 197), in the Roman Republic most priesthoods were for life; on Roman priests and politics, see vol. 1, pp. 99–108. 50. Isthmia IΣ 261 (found in 1954) + Corinth I-2194: Broneer 1939; Robert 1940; Broneer 1955, p. 124; Corinth VIII.3, pp. 119–121, no. 306; Robert 1966c, pp. 754–755. The inscription is fully discussed in Geagan 1989. 51. Madrid, Prado 13: IG IV 202; IG XIV 2543; Isthmia IV, pp. 11 (with

bibliography), 93, pl. 84:e; LIMC VII, 1994, p. 452, no. 31, s.v. Poseidon (E. Simon); Klöckner 1997, pp. 133– 134, 137, Flavian; Schröder 2004, pp. 421–425, no. 193 A, color pl. 25, a.d. 130–140, with references; restorations shown in figs. on p. 421, H. 2.36 m with base; on the date, p. 421, on inscription, pp. 426–427, no. 193 B, fig. 90 ( J. Curbera). West (Corinth VIII.2, p. 55) identifies this Priscus as the father of Iuventianus; others disagree.

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statue support.52 Iuventianus Priscus is known to have served as aedile at Corinth and as agonothetes and priest at Isthmia in the Antonine period. His career appears to culminate ca. a.d. 170–180.53 This personage was clearly a member of a prominent family, one of the most eminent men of his day in Corinth and a major benefactor of the city and its sanctuaries.54 Iuventianus’s costume and pose have already been shown to define his role in society. How would the head have characterized the figure as a priest? In the 2nd century, Roman priests in the eastern Mediterranean are generally depicted wearing long hair, a beard, and headgear appropriate to the priestly office and the region. The simplest kind of headgear is a rolled diadem, which was probably inspired by the rolled diadem (corona tortilis or strophion) shown in some depictions of deities, such as heads of Asklepios Giustini type.55 The strophion is worn, for example, by the hierophant, dadouchos, and priest of Demeter and Kore at Eleusis and by an Antonine portrait in Kyrene with long hair and beard that is identified as a priest.56 Alternatively, priests may wear a wreath, as is prescribed in the inscription regarding the Andanian mysteries of Messenia of 92/1 b.c.57 Sculptural examples include a portrait of Trajanic–Hadrianic date in Rome and a second portrait of a priestly individual in Kyrene.58 In Attica priests may wear a rolled diadem alone, as with heads in the Athenian Agora, the National Museum, and Eleusis,59 both Late Republican and mid-3rd century a.d. Some figures wear only a wreath,60 while others wear both diadem and wreath. An Antonine head from the Athenian Agora, for example, wears a diadem and a wreath added separately,61 and 52. Schröder (2004, pp. 426–427) identifies the Madrid statue as the one seen by Pausanias ca. a.d. 160 inside the Palaimon temple; the inscription, however, is associated with the same Priscus as a dedication made early in his career (Curbera in Schröder 2004, p. 426), since he is iereus rather than archiereus. A seated Poseidon appears inside the temple on Hadrianic coins, but this does not rule out a standing Poseidon (Walbank 2003, p. 346, n. 47, fig. 20.12:1). On the increased use of lifetime tenures of priesthoods, see Grijalvo 2005, p. 271. For a revised view of the Palaimon temple(s), see nn. 35, 36, above. 53. On Iuventianus Priscus, see Corinth VIII.2, pp. 53–55, no. 70; Puech 1983, p. 35; Jordan 1994b, pp. 115, 116, n. 7; Dixon 2000, pp. 339–341; Kajava 2002a. 54. On the relationship between euergetism and priesthoods in the Roman period, see Gordon 1990, pp. 219–231. 55. Asklepios Giustini: LIMC II, 1984, pp. 879, 882, nos. 155 (Naples,

Museo Archeologico 6360), 215 (Venice, Museo Archeologico 107), 218 (Palatine), s.v. Asklepios (B. Holtzmann); Meyer 1994, pp. 7–32. For Palatine head of Asklepios, see Helbig4 III, p. 141, no. 2230 (H. von Steuben); Tomei 1997, p. 132, no. 110. On the diadem type, see Krug 1968, pp. 128– 129. 56. Eleusis: Clinton 1974, pp. 32, 33, 48, 101–108, 116. Kyrene C 17037: Rosenbaum 1960, p. 65, no. 69, pl. 44:3, 4. 57. Meyer 1987, p. 52, para. 3; men are barefoot, wear white, p. 53, para. 4. 58. Rome, Vatican Museums: Andreae 1995, vol. 1, no. 605, pls. 204, 205 (short hair). Kyrene C 17034: Rosenbaum 1960, pp. 64–65, no. 68, pls. 44:1, 2, 108:2 (laurel); identified as Tiberius Claudius Jason Magnus II, archon of the Panhellenion in a.d. 157, Bacchielli 1979, pp. 158–164; Benjamin 1968, pp. 338–340, no. 47. 59. Athens, Agora: Agora I, pp. 12– 14, no. 3, pl. 3, Late Republican. Athens, National Archaeological Museum (NM) 437: Rhomiopoulou 1997, p. 21,

no. 7, ca. 43–40 b.c.; Kaltsas 2002, p. 311, no. 650. Eleusis, Museum inv. no. 5: L’Orange 1933, pp. 40–41, no. 58, figs. 108, 109; Agora I, pp. 6, 63, 64, 101, n. 16, pl. 46:e, period of Gallienus. 60. For wreathed heads interpreted as priests, see, e.g., Athens, NM 351, laurel (Richter 1965, vol. 1, p. 38, figs. 41, 42; Kaltsas 2002, p. 297, no. 621); and three examples from the Athenian Agora (Agora I, pp. 34–35, no. 24, pl. 16, Hadrianic; pp. 53–54, no. 40, pl. 27, ca. a.d. 230–240; pp. 56– 57, no. 43, pl. 30, ca. a.d. 235–245). Raeder (2000, p. 211, n. 11) lists eight male portraits with ivy wreaths, most of which probably represent priests of Bacchus/Liber. 61. Agora I, p. 41, no. 29, pl. 18. A Gallienic head displays both elements: Agora I, pp. 63–64, no. 49, pl. 31. A portrait from Thessaloniki wears a diadem and an added wreath: Despinis, Stefanidou-Tiveriou, and Voutiras 2003, pp. 60–61, no. 197, figs. 551–554, 2nd century a.d. (G. Despinis).

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an Antonine head from the Theater of Dionysos wears a fillet or strophion and a wreath of myrtle.62 The link between the strophion/wreath headgear and a priestly office is established by the Early Antonine relief of Hagnousios that was found near the Olympieion. The figure at right, identified by inscription as a ΙΕΡΟΦΑΝΤΗΣ, hierophant, wears a diadem and myrtle wreath as well as tunic and himation.63 The type of headgear appropriate for priests who officiated in the rites at Isthmia is unknown, but on analogy with the relief of Hagnousios it may have consisted of a diadem and wreath. Two heads in Corinth with strophion/wreath headgear attest to this costume in the Corinthia.64 For an Isthmian cult the wreath would have probably been of pine, the foliage predominantly used in Isthmian victory wreaths in Roman times.65 The pine wreath depicted without a strophion on non-imperial sculptures probably denotes Isthmian victors. A head of Hadrian from Kyrene wears a wreath of pine, which may indicate renewed interest in Isthmia on Hadrian’s part in both the games and the cult of Palaimon.66 This interest is confirmed by Hadrian’s change of the month of the Isthmian Games in a.d. 133 and is underscored by non-imperial Hadrianic portraits wearing the pine wreath.67 Three imposing statues from Aphrodisias from the later 2nd century a.d.68 are comparable to the Isthmia priest in costume type, fold arrangement, and open pose, and one also holds a patera. The two for which the heads are preserved, both of older men, give an idea of the powerful impact that the Isthmia statue would have had.69

Pal a imon ion S tat u e s 2 , 3, a n d 4 The appendages and attributes form the primary parts of Palaimonion statues 2, 3, and 4 that survive; thus, the information about these figures is limited. A fragment from one of the statues (2G) shows that at least one of the plinths was rectangular. As the shape of this plinth differs from the rounded cuttings in the two statue bases found in the Palaimonion, it may be that Palaimonion statues 2, 3, and 4 were set up as a single, but different dedication, though not necessarily one that was far removed in time from Palaimonion statue 1. The statues with rectangular plinths 62. Athens, NM 356: Rhomiopoulou 1997, p. 82, no. 83, mid-2nd century a.d., priest(?); Fittschen 1999, p. 97, pl. 184:c–f, a foreign ruler, perhaps from Pontus; Raeder 2000, pp. 158–159, n. 24, lists 14 heads with strophion and wreath, possibly from the cult of Demeter or another mystery cult; Riccardi 2007, p. 386, fig. 15, hierophant, probably an Eleusinian official. 63. Clinton 1992, pp. 75, 139, no. 1, fig. 55, Early Antonine, after E. B. Harrison; LIMC IV, 1988, pp. 868– 869, no. 285, s.v. Demeter (L. Beschi); Harrison 2000, p. 275, fig. 10; Raeder 2000, p. 157, n. 23, suppl. pl. 5:4–7, Late Hadrianic–Early Antonine;

Schörner 2003, p. 555, no. R 24, pl. 4:1; ThesCRA V, 2005, p. 65, no. Gr. 326, pl. 5, s.v. Personnel of Cult (C. Sourvinou-Inwood). 64. Corinth S-890: Corinth IX, p. 90, no. 173; de Grazia 1973, pp. 132–136, no. 21, Hadrianic. Corinth S-920: Corinth IX, p. 148, no. 321; de Grazia 1973, pp. 217–223, no. 53, first half of 5th century; Ridgway 1981, p. 448, pl. 97:d. 65. On Isthmian victory wreaths, see Broneer 1962b, pp. 261–263; Walbank 2003, p. 342, fig. 20.5:4 (coin of Hadrian). For pine on Early Roman coins, see Gebhard 2005, pp. 182–183. 66. London, British Museum 1381: see n. 23, above.

67. On Hadrian’s reorganization of the games, see Petzl and Schwertheim 2006, pp. 73–74. On the non-imperial portraits, see, e.g., Rome, Conservatori Museums 2741: Helbig4 II, p. 426, no. 1629 (H. von Heintze); Gasparri 1989, p. 100, fig. 15, pl. 32. 68. Smith et al. 2006, from near Bouleuterion: nos. 44 (pp. 162–164, pl. 34, with patera); 45 (pp. 164–166, pls. 35–37); from Theater: no. 51 (pp. 179–180, pls. 46, 47); on statues wearing a himation, pp. 150–152, 154– 157. Cf. Rumscheid 2000, p. 116, nos. 6, 7, pls. 2:5, 3. 69. Smith et al. 2006, pp. 164–166, 179, 180, nos. 45, 51, both beardless.

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may have been set up on tall bases, which was a popular form in the 2nd century.70 In fact, such a tall, narrow statue base with an inscribed dedication was found at Isthmia and originally stood in the pronaos of the Temple of Poseidon.71 No inscription can be associated with Palaimonion statues 2, 3, and 4, and therefore other means must be used to investigate them. Segments of these statues were found in association with Palaimonion statue 1 and the destruction debris from the later Antonine phase of the sanctuary, Palaimonion V. Similarity of marble and scale, as well as findspots, suggest that Palaimonion statues 1 through 4 were exhibited in the western precinct. Torches are held by three left hands (2C, 3C, 4a), and other fragments of torches (2D, 2e) are preserved. The torches carried by these figures may connect them with the nocturnal rites of Palaimon.72 Nighttime celebrations are also indicated by the over 1,400 lamps that were found in the western Palaimonion, especially east of the temple, and in sacrificial pit C. Many of these lamps are large and distinctively shaped, a type created for this cult.73 The torches held by Palaimonion statues 2–4 are not the only torches discovered at Isthmia; two marble flames from torches were found in the Later Stadium and the Palaimonion.74 Various figures could be depicted carrying torches: deities, victors in the torch race, participants in religious ritual, and new initiates in the cult.75 An inscription from Corinth refers to the office of πυροφόρος (pyrophoros), or fire bearer, at Isthmia; thus an association with the cult seems likely here. Lighting, by torch and by lamp, seems to have played an important role in the ritual activities of the Palaimonion.76 Short, laced boots, short-sleeved, short tunics, and short cloaks characterize the costume of Palaimonion statues 2, 3, and 4. The laced boots (caligae) in combination with these garments indicate that the subjects at Isthmia are depicted in an active role, such as hunting, traveling, a military activity, or possibly a religious one.77 In addition, these figures do not depict racers, for athletes in footraces are shown barefoot, as illustrated on 70. Cf., e.g., the statues of L. Dometeinos and C. Tatiana from the Basilica at Aphrodisias of ca. a.d. 200: Smith 1998, pp. 66–68, figs. 1, 2 (reconstruction); Smith et al. 2006, pp. 170–176, 216–219, nos. 48, 96. Note that plinths with relatively straight sides may be somewhat rounded in front, as an Early Imperial cuirassed portrait from Aphrodisias: Hallett 1998, pp. 59, 67–69, figs. 2, 3; Smith et al. 2006, pp. 122–124, no. 14, pl. 14. 71. Base dedicated to Nikias (IΣ 377): see n. 10, above. 72. Plut. Thes. 25.4: rites for Melikertes took place at night and were similar to initiation rituals. Other sources refer to the rites as if they were funerary (Aristid. Or. 46.40) and to the underground chamber as the adyton, as if it were Palaimon’s tomb (Paus. 2.2.1). On

this heroic cult and the appropriateness of the nighttime ritual, see Gebhard 2005, pp. 174–181. 73. Isthmia II, p. 109; Isthmia III, pp. 1–3, 35–52; Hayes 1993; Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998, pp. 444–454; Gebhard 2005, p. 194; Hayes, forthcoming. 74. Isthmia IV, p. 153, no. 122, pl. 77:b (Later Stadium); p. 154, no. 123, pl. 77:c (roughly carved flames from a large torch found northwest of Palaimon temple in trench P Ib). 75. Compare torches depicted on objects from Eleusis: Mylonas 1961, figs. 64, 67, 69, 71, 74, 78 (gods); Kanta 1979, figs. 4, 5, 9, 10, 17, 25, 50 (deities), 76 (cult personnel: dadouchos, torch bearer). Torch races are illustrated on late-5th-/early-4th-century b.c. Corinthian red-figure vases; see Herbert 1986, pp. 30, 32, where the cultic

aspect of the race is emphasized. Like those of statues 2–4, the torches shown on these vases are short, as is the athlete’s torch on a Corinthian coin, Marcus Aurelius (NCP, p. 11, pl. B:V). 76. Corinth VIII.3, pp. 91–92, no. 212, pl. 17, a.d. 90, on a pyrophoros of the Isthmian Games; Kent suggests (p. 92) this text gives a sort of “priestly cursus honorum.” Cf. Corinth VIII.3, p. 93, no. 214, pl. 19; Geagan 1968, p. 76; Biers and Geagan 1970, pp. 90– 93. 77. On the caliga, or military boot, see Junkelmann 1986, pp. 158–161, pl. 60:a, b, Roman caligae in Mainz and Nürnberg. Caligae were robust boots with 8 mm thick, three-layered soles, and ca. 80–90 iron nails on the bottom; a pair would weigh ca. 1,300 g (Goldman 2001, pp. 122–123, fig. 6.27:a, b) See also n. 25, above.

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Corinthian coins.78 On his column, Marcus Aurelius wears short boots closed with lacings just in the center, as here, not the general-issue heavy boots with allover lacings of the foot soldier. Thus, it would appear that the three figures at Isthmia were made to look the same; the heads and inscriptions would then have provided their identifications. Hunting, traveling, military activity, and religious sacrifices are the contexts in which the short tunic and cloak appear in certain Roman imperial reliefs. For example, Trajan wears this costume in the alimenta panel on the Arch of Trajan at Benevento; in the Hadrianic roundels on the Arch of Constantine, Hadrian and his two companions are similarly dressed in the departure for the hunt and while hunting the lion, boar, and bear. Other roundels display sacrificial scenes in the rural sanctuaries of Hercules, Diana, Silvanus, and Apollo.79 In this context, the hunt is used as a means of characterizing Hadrian’s courage and manliness, and the religious sacrifices his piety to the gods.80 The short tunic and cloak is the guise employed for statues of three pupils of Herodes Atticus: Achilles, Memnon, and Polydeukion. In Philostratos’s Lives of the Sophists (2.558–559) these pupils are called Herodes’ foster sons, whom he was said to have mourned as if they were his own children. After their deaths he set up statues of them in various guises: hunting, having hunted, and about to hunt in the bushes, in fields, beside springs, or under plane trees. With their characterization as hunters they could have been modeled on statues of Antinous.81 According to Philostratos (VS 2.559), Herodes was criticized by the Quintilii, then in control of Greece as proconsuls, for such extravagant display. Herodes Atticus is a known benefactor at Isthmia who donated a chryselephantine group of Poseidon and Amphitrite and Palaimon in the Temple of Poseidon and probably two busts of Polydeukion in the Roman Bath.82 Polydeukion and his companions, however, form unlikely subjects for these Palaimonion sculptures. Of the 23 depictions of Polydeukion in Meyer’s 1985 list, none certainly derives from a full-length statue.83 More important, the hands of Palaimonion statues 2, 3, and 4 (2B, 2C, 3B, 3C, 4a) depict the powerful hands of mature men, not the small, fleshy hands of adolescent youths. In the second half of the 2nd century the same type of outfit occurs in a military context. On the Aurelian panels on the Arch of Constantine, Marcus is dressed in this fashion when departing for and arriving from a military campaign, when addressing his troops, and when speaking to barbarians.84 On the column of Marcus Aurelius, the emperor adopts this garb when he is on campaign, rather than an elaborate cuirass, which would be more appropriate for a military parade. In these instances on the column 78. For runners on Corinthian coins, see NCP, p. 15, pl. C:44, 45. 79. Benevento arch: Kleiner 1992, fig. 190. Arch of Constantine roundels: Meyer 1991, pp. 218–221, pls. 132– 135; LTUR I, 1993, p. 89, s.v. Arcus Constantini (A. Capodiffero); Holloway 2004, pp. 20–25. 80. On hunting during the Hadrianic period, Anderson (1985, pp. 101– 121) says that Hadrian may not have

associated hunting with the tradition of eastern monarchs, as he had hunted in Spain in his youth. 81. Meyer 1991, p. 239. On sculptures of the pupils, see Tobin 1997, pp. 95–109. 82. Paus. 2.1.7–8; Isthmia IV, pp. 4, 8, 84; Isthmia VI, pp. 5–10, nos. 1, 2. The bath and its association with Herodes is being studied by J. Reinhard. On the Quintilii’s attacks, see

Tobin 1997, pp. 35–38, 99–111, 113, 157. 83. Meyer 1985, pp. 398–399; Isthmia VI, pp. 5–10. 84. Ryberg 1967, pp. 1–8, 77–83, figs. 18, 19, 32, 37, 40; Kleiner 1992, pp. 288–295, a.d. 176–180; LTUR I, 1993, pp. 98–99, s.v. Arcus Marci Aurelii (M. Torelli); Holloway 2004, pp. 25–30, figs. 2.11, 2.12, 2.14–2.16.

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he is often accompanied by one or two men in similar dress. The costume and his central position convey the idea that he is one of the soldiers.85 In her book on Roman copies, Bieber says that on his column Marcus is depicted in this specific manner with such frequency and regularity that his image “give[s] the impression of the copy of a statue,” although it is no longer extant.86 If Palaimonion statue 2 were interpreted as a possible depiction of Marcus Aurelius it would provide key evidence for a Roman statuary type that has, until now, been unrecognized. In the past, figures in this format have been interpreted as copies or reflections of Greek statues from the later 4th century b.c., because of the general similarity with Greek-period statues wearing a knee-length garment, as well as the propensity to interpret much Roman statuary as copies of Greek originals.87 Amelung, for example, interpreted a headless statue in the Vatican, which is similar to the Vatican statue with the nonpertinent head of Commodus previously mentioned, as a copy of a 4th-century b.c. type rather than as a Roman statue.88 Greek figures wearing knee-length tunics certainly exist—witness a torso from the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, the Scythian on the Mantinea base, and the servant from the Belevi monument—but the overall effect is not close.89 It is not necessary to assume that a Greek model provides the primary explanation for this Roman statuary type, since the sculpture exhibits a costume that the emperor and commoners regularly wore in certain circumstances. Witness the Richmond statue of Septimius Severus mentioned above. The two tunic-clad statues in the Vatican Museums adopt a Roman statuary type that may have been employed for active men in various contexts. The evidence to support the identification of Palaimonion statues 2–4 as Marcus Aurelius and two of his officers is slim, but the interpretation seems possible. The Scriptores Historiae Augustae state that Marcus came to Greece in September of a.d. 176, when he, together with Commodus, was initiated into the Eleusinian rites. For his initiation at Eleusis, Marcus had requested, in a letter recorded by Philostratos, the presence of Herodes Atticus, who had been his professor of rhetoric in Rome in a.d. 141–146.90 Records indicate, however, that a Julius was the initiator and L. Memmius the priest.91 Included in Marcus’s retinue may have been Tiberius Claudius Pompeianus, one of his senior advisors and the second husband of his 85. For Marcus in tunic and paludamentum, see, e.g., Caprino et al. 1955, figs. 11, 16, 31, 42, 49, 57, 61, 69, 75, 83, 91, 92, 101, 103, 106, 115, 119, 120, and 128, in scenes IX, XXI, XXXI, XXXIX, XLV, XLIXa, LV, LX, LXVI, LXXV, LXXX, LXXXIII, LXXXVI, XCVI, C, CI, and CVIII; Becatti 1957, figs. 14 (with Pompeianus), 16, 24 (with two bearded officers), 46 (with Pompeianus), 51 (with two officers), 63 (with two officers); Kleiner 1992, pp. 295–301, a.d. 180–192; LTUR I, 1993, pp. 302–305, s.v. Columna Marci Aurelii Antonini (S. Maffei). 86. Bieber 1977, p. 220. See Junkel-

mann 1990, vol. 1, figs. 196, 214, for Marcus Aurelius in the Clementia relief in the Capitoline Museums and the bronze equestrian statue. 87. This issue has been widely discussed; see, e.g., Ridgway 1984; Marvin 1989; Gazda 1995, 2002; Perry 2005; Hallett 2005. 88. Statue with Commodus head, Rome, Vatican Museums, Museo Chiaramonti 2294: see n. 29, above, H. 2.45 m. Second statue, wearing two tunics, mantle, Rome, Vatican Museums, Octagonal Court: Amelung VatKat, vol. I, p. 14; Helbig4 I, p. 194, no. 250 (W. Fuchs); Andreae 1998,

p. 8, no. 5, pls. 55–57, H. 1.42 m, Trajanic, after Early Hellenistic type; from near Porta Portese. 89. Halicarnassus: Waywell 1978, pp. 113–114, no. 42, pl. 19. Mantinea base, Athens, NM 215: Ridgway 1997, pp. 206–209; Kaltsas 2002, p. 246, no. 513. Belevi: Ridgway 1990, pp. 192– 194, pl. 86; Webb 1996, pp. 76–79. 90. SHA Marc. 27.1; Dio Cass. 71.31.3; Philostr. VS 2.1.563; Clinton 1974, p. 39. 91. On the initiator and altar priest, Memmius: Birley 1987, p. 194, n. 27; Clinton 1989, pp. 1525, 1531. On Memmius’s statue base: IG II2 3620.

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92. Birley 1987, pp. 125–126. 93. Corinth VIII.3, p. 51, nos. 109, 110. 94. Isthmia IV, pp. 132–137, nos. 57 (Antinous), 58 (Hadrian). 95. For the Marcus panels, see n. 84, above; for the Marcus column, see n. 85. 96. Tarraco (Tarragona), Hispania Citerior (eastern Spain): Koppel 1985, pp. 19–20, nos. 8–10, pls. 7:1–3, 8; as with Palaimonion figure 2, the Tarraco figures have square plinths (Koppel 1985, no. 10). Statues and bases from Aphrodisias suggest that even statues constructed on square plinths, such as those at Isthmia and Tarraco, would be set into or on a separate base; Smith et al. 2006, pp. 31–34. 97. Stewart 2003, p. 181. 98. Albertson 1983.

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daughter Lucilla, and possibly Pertinax or even Commodus. There is no record of Marcus visiting the Isthmus, but his entry into Greece appears to follow an established pattern. Lucius Verus, when he came to Greece in a.d. 162, stopped first at Corinth and then at Athens where he stayed with Herodes Atticus and was initiated into the cult at Eleusis.92 If Marcus followed the same itinerary and was involved with initiations into Greek cults, the statuary group may have been set up to commemorate his initiation into the Isthmian cult. At Corinth, two inscriptions honoring Marcus Aurelius and his wife, Faustina, are dated to a.d. 175–180 by Marcus’s title Sarmaticus, and so it is likely that he visited Corinth at that time.93 This date corresponds with the Isthmian sanctuary phase Palaimonion V. If the identification of Marcus Aurelius and two of his senior officers seems possible, this group would join other imperial statues at Isthmia. Parts of two such statues were found in the Temple of Poseidon: a cuirassed statue of Hadrian in the cella (one of the few cuirassed statues of Hadrian known from Greece) and a nude sculpture of Antinous in the southeast colonnade.94 The manner in which Marcus Aurelius may be depicted in the Palaimonion group seems commensurate with the format employed in imperial reliefs, that is, flanked by two senior officers and, often, accompanied by one or more religious attendants, forming an important symbol. On the rectangular panels in Rome made late in his reign and on his column, begun shortly after his death, Marcus is frequently portrayed as if he were one of the soldiers, in tunic and paludamentum, rather than cuirass or toga.95 This practice seems also the case here. In fact, the Scriptores Historiae Augustae refer to the two emperors going on campaign as paludati (Marc. 14.1) and to Marcus and his men putting on the toga when they returned to Italy (Marc. 27.3). A more common means of depicting the emperor in freestanding statuary is in a military cuirass, which symbolizes his military function, and in the 2nd century a.d. many cuirassed statues of the emperor with one or more of his high-ranking military officers were displayed throughout the Mediterranean. The Isthmia group recalls the three-figure group in the theater of Tarraco in its apparent uniformity of costume and pose.96 The close similarity of these figures has led to their identification as Antoninus Pius, Marcus Aurelius, and Lucius Verus.97 The uniformity of the Isthmia figures is indicated by the parts that survive, the hands, lower legs, and feet, which are remarkably similar to each other in form and technique. From about the same period is a three-figure group that was found near Marathon. Like the Palaimonion group, these figures, bust-length portraits of Marcus Aurelius, Lucius Verus, and Herodes Atticus, are made of Pentelic marble and are attributed to an Attic workshop. Certain techniques that unite the Marathon figures, visible rasping and elongated, arrow-shaped folds, can also be seen in the group at Isthmia.98 The person who commissioned the Isthmia group would have chosen not to emphasize the emperor’s military function and rank, instead showing him in a less official, more ordinary-status format as a man of the people, and possibly as a traveler. The Palaimonion statues are distinct from more traditional presentations of the emperor, because the context is different. The environment is religious, but the emperor is not officiating as a priest

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and is being initiated into a cult. In addition, the emperor is not shown as a triumphing general, but as the military leader en route to or from a distant part of the empire. He is away from Rome on campaign, but he is not close to a battle arena. The choice of costume for the Palaimonion group, then, appears to have specific meaning for its location outside of Italy and for the ritual context of the Palaimon sanctuary, which includes the protection of travelers.99 At Eleusis, however, initiates wear new clothes, with their right shoulders bare, and are usually barefoot.100 In any case, the Palaimonion group may herald a new mode in the presentation of the emperor.

stat ue 5 A candidate for a fifth statue in the Palaimon sanctuary is presented by six pieces from an under-life-size standing male figure, which is nude and barefoot (5).101 The torso is missing, but it is clear that the limbs are slender and the arm muscles are not flexed. Thus, a youthful figure seems to be indicated. The right arm was held close to the torso and both arms were attached to the hips at the wrists. This standing youth cannot be identified as Palaimon since, on coins minted at Corinth, Palaimon/Melikertes is typically depicted as an infant, either lying on or riding a dolphin.102 One standing, nude youth appears on Corinthian coins that are associated with Isthmia. On a coin type from the time of Marcus Aurelius, a standing youth is characterized as an athlete by the torch and the victory palm that he holds.103 The locale of Isthmia is indicated by the presence of a pine tree and by the image of Melikertes lying on a dolphin. This “victor type” might be associated with the statue of the nude youth, 5. Gebhard has conjectured that the torch race occupied an important position in the ceremonies, as it would have begun at the altar by the shore and ended with the holocaustic offering at the pit.104 Night torch races were typical of hero cults in general. The winner of the torch race would likely have used his torch to light the sacrifice. Segments of the youth were discovered on both sides of the north– south wall that separates the two sections of the Palaimonion. The figure may have stood before the west side of the wall and beside the door to the eastern precinct, facing the temple, or outside the Palaimonion west precinct near the South Building. If it stood near the South Building, the statue may have had a function related to the games and the practice of examining athletes and excluding those considered unsuitable.105 99. On Palaimon’s association with Portunus, ports, and possible protection, with Ino, of travelers, see Pièrart 1998, pp. 104–109; Gebhard 2005, p. 172. In addition, a military cuirass might have been considered inappropriate there for an initiation rite in this period. 100. On the new clothes and bare shoulder, see Mylonas 1961, pp. 201, 279. For bare feet, see Clinton 1992, p. 49, n. 100; the Andanian inscription,

n. 57, above. 101. Isthmia IV, no. 97, originally dated “Hadrianic(?),” probably Antonine. 102. Melikertes on coins: NCP, pp. 10, 11, pl. B:I–IX, XII, XIV–XVII; Walbank 2003, p. 346, fig. 20.12:3, 6–9. On the cult of Palaimon/Melikertes, see Koester 1990; Pièrart 1998; Pache 2004, pp. 135–180; Gebhard 2005. On his depictions in art, see LIMC VI,

1992, pp. 437–444, s.v. Melikertes (E. Vikela, R. Vollkommer). 103. Victorious athlete: NCP, p. 11, pl. B:V; Walbank 2003, p. 346, fig. 20.12:6; Gebhard 2005, fig. 6.1:b. 104. E. Gebhard (pers. comm.). See also Wiseman, Chapter 11 in this volume. 105. See, e.g., a lead tablet from Isthmia that reads “eliminates” ( Jordan and Spawforth 1982). I owe this suggestion to Elizabeth Gebhard.

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Pan an D t H e Mu s es ( 6–9 ) A group of Pan and the Muses (6–9)106 was found in the western precinct of the Palaimonion, primarily south and east of the temple. The figures appear to form a single dedication, as they are congruent in scale and marble type. The high polish of the arms and elongated proportions seem appropriate for the second half of the 2nd century a.d., and the lack of weathering may indicate that the group was set up inside the temple. In Athens, Pan received annual sacrifices and torch races.107 Thus it could be as a runner that he is associated with celebrations for Melikertes. In Arkadia, however, sources say that Pan has an oracle and a priestess named Erato.108 Pausanias calls Erato a nymph, but she is also known as the muse of lyric poetry. The dedication of the Muses with Pan at Isthmia may be related to such a connection. In addition, a base at Corinth that Kent interpreted as supporting a statue of Herodes Atticus refers to the great benefactor as “the servant of the Muses on [honeyed] Hym[ettus].”109 The dedication at Isthmia may result from this type of association. It may also have commemorated victory in one of the musical contests in the theater.

tH e s na Ke Mon u Men t ( 1 0 ) The heads of two snakes and related coil-like pieces (e.g., 10) derive from one or two objects.110 These pieces are fragmentary, but enough survives to tell that two coils have upper, lower, and inner resting surfaces. Thus, they were worked separately, stacked onto a block below, and fitted against another block behind. The coiled snakes might have formed the top of an independent dedication, an altar, or the outer parts of two column bases of the Palaimon temple. It is uncertain what form the original object(s) took. Yet, it seems clear they were not depictions of the serpent Glykon. The oracular cult of Glykon was established during the reign of Antoninus Pius, as reported by Lucian (Alex. 18). In depictions of Glykon the snake coils typically are stacked evenly at the base and then coil upward in free air to culminate in a freestanding snake head with a beard.111 In some respects the spine-like decoration recalls architectural moldings with overlapping leaf decoration, such as the pointed leaves with central spines that occur on moldings of certain Roman buildings at Corinth. In the Severan bath on the Lechaion Road, leaf decoration occurs on two 106. Isthmia IV, nos. 45–48, originally dated “a.d. 125–150,” probably Antonine. 107. Hdt. 6.105; Borgeaud 1988, pp. 133–136. 108. Jost 1985, p. 474. A scholiast to Theocritos (1.123c) notes an oracle (manteion) of Pan on Mt. Lykaion, location unclear, and Pausanias (8.37.11) mentions one at Lykosoura. 109. Corinth I-1752, I-2264: Corinth VIII.3, p. 60, no. 129, pls. 13,

62. Robert (1966c, pp. 742–743) doubted the restoration of Hymettos, believing that “servant of the muses” would be more likely for a poet than a rhetor. Kent argued from letter forms similar to those on a statue base of Regilla (Corinth VIII.3, pp. 59–60, no. 128, pl. 12), the recarved appearance of both inscriptions, and a similar choice of words, otherwise rare in inscriptions. 110. Fragment 10 is considered together with Isthmia IV, nos. 118–120,

originally dated “Roman.” 111. Cf. LIMC IV, 1988, pp. 279– 283, nos. 1, 3, s.v. Glykon (G. Bordenache Battaglia). Hygieia is shown seated on a rock encircled by a snake, but the coils are not stacked, as here: LIMC V, 1990, p. 557, no. 8 (in New York), s.v. Hygieia (F. Croissant), with references. A similar figure seated on a basket, from Messene, may represent Kybele: Themelis 1995, pp. 83–84.

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column bases from the facade.112 Another leaf molding appears on a base associated with Temple F at the west end of the Forum.113 Such overlapping leaf decoration also occurs in Rome in the later 2nd century, typically on one of several segments of a column base, and the leafy decor can be oriented horizontally or vertically.114 Two snake heads in the Isthmia group, however, establish these fragments as snakes. Moreover, it seems unlikely that a major structural element such as a column should be pieced at its base, for this would weaken the support. The snakes recall a ceramic vase with plastic snakes that was found in the West Waterworks at Isthmia, which is interpreted as a cult vessel.115 Because of the important symbolism for the cult, the marble snakes may have been displayed in a prominent location, possibly as facings on the tops of one or two altars. One type of cylindrical altar has snakes coiled around or on top of it. On these altars the coils separate and wind about the altar, but they are not stacked contiguously as appears to be the case here.116 Images of snakes were found in two sanctuaries at Vergina. A colossal marble snake, thought to depict Zeus Meilichios, was excavated in the sanctuary of the goddess Eucleia. In this monument the head rises from coils that rest vertically on a base. Smaller snakes of terracotta, with coils stacked horizontally, were discovered in the Sanctuary of the Mother of the Gods.117 The best comparison is the coiled snake on the lid of a cista shown in relief on an altar to Isis in Rome (although the snake’s head is raised).118 The Isthmia pieces could possibly have been attached to the top of a marble container of some type. A major difference between the Isthmia snakes and those that accompany deities or appear on hero or votive reliefs is that the Isthmia serpents do not raise their heads, but rest them on their coils as if they are inactive or asleep.119 Perhaps the snakes were expected to be activated during the initiation rites into the cult. Whatever their use, the snakes would have acted as an important symbol of the chthonic cult and its underground rites. During initiation into the Palaimonion mysteries the marble snake monument may have been used for a specific purpose as some kind of sacred stone.120 112. Corinth XVII, pp. 27, 28, 65, pl. 11:1, 2 (horizontal leaves, no. 1; vertical, no. 3). 113. Corinth I.3, pp. 60, 66, fig. 40, pl. 24:1, vertical leaves; Wegner 1965, pp. 25, 26. 114. Strong 1953, pp. 148–150, pl. 37:a. For plain leaf decoration, see Wegner 1965, figs. 4:a, 15:b, 19:a, 20:a, 31:b, 32:b; Giuliano 1985, pp. 413–414, no. VIII, 53. 115. IP 363, Early Roman: Isthmia II, p. 29, pl. 14:c; Hayes, forthcoming. 116. On snake altars: Berges 1996, from Knidos (p. 65, no. 76, pl. 52:4), Rhodes (p. 151, nos. 275, 276, pls. 52:3, 53:1), Kos (p. 152, no. 277, pl. 53:2). On snake altars on reliefs: Mitropoulou

1977, pp. 224–226, no. 50a. For a snake coiled around a column, New York, Metropolitan Museum 12.229.2: Richter 1954, p. 235, no. 234, from Delos, Roman. 117. Drougou and Saatsoglou-Paliadeli 2005: marble snake, pp. 94 (top), 136 (bottom), 227; terracotta snakes, p. 143. 118. Rome, Musei Capitolini 1526: Stuart Jones 1912, p. 359, no. 12, pl. 91; Helbig4 II, p. 36, no. 1189 (K. Parlasca); ThesCRA II, 2004, pp. 107–108, no. 141, pl. 19, s.v. Initiation (W. Burkert). 119. For snakes with Asklepios: Athens, NM 266, NM 265, NM 263 (Kaltsas 2002, nos. 544, 545, 727); with Hygieia: NM 271, NM 272 (nos. 781,

782). On hero reliefs, to Amphiaraos: NM 3369 (no. 425). On votive reliefs, of Asklepios: NM 1338 (no. 268), NM 1407 (no. 426), NM 1345 (no. 432), NM 2565 (no. 443). On Zeus Meilichios: NM 3329 (no. 469), NM 1461 (no. 470). 120. For snakes in other mystery cults, as of Dionysos, Demeter and Kore, see Burkert 1985, pp. 195, 206 (a snake as manifestation of a hero), 276; 1987, pp. 23, 94, 97. For snakes sacred to heroes, see Artem. Oneirocritica 2.13, 2nd century a.d. On the popularity of hero cults in the 2nd century, see Jones 2001. On sacred stones at Eleusis, Miletus, see Clinton 1992, pp. 121–123; Agora XXXI, pp. 20–21, with n. 28.

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tH e PaLai Mon i on s C uL P t u res : s e t t in G anD ri t ua L Con text

121. Within the western precinct, findspots are dispersed. Pieces of marble sculpture were found: west of pit B: IS 198 (2B, hand); IS 275 (2B, hand); on east side of precinct: IS 207 (3a, arm); IS 208 (2e, torch); IS 227 (3C, hand); IS 274 (2B, hand); IS 280 (1B, hand); in southwest corner of precinct: IS 302 (4a, hand); IS 316/317 (1C, leg); in passage/over temple podium: IS 298 + 476 (3B, hand); IS 301 (2G, foot/plinth); IS 306 + 325 (3D, leg); IS 307 (3F, foot); IS 308 (2C, hand); IS 310 (2F, leg); IS 313 + 314 + 450 (2a, arm); IS 326 (3e, leg); IS 344 (2D, torch); Poseidon sanctuary, southwest area, trench D: IS 292 (1B, hand). 122. Sisyphos base, IΣ 272: Broneer 1958b, p. 22, pl. 9:a, later 2nd century a.d.; Isthmia IV, p. 10, pl. 80:e. 123. Blastos base, IΣ 293: Broneer 1958b, p. 22, pl. 9:b, later 2nd century a.d.; Isthmia IV, p. 10, pl. 80:f. 124. Isthmia II, pp. 106–109. Reconstruction of the stratigraphy in the Palaimonion based on excavation records is due to J. Hanges, F. Hemans, S. Strack, and E. Gebhard (1990– 2005). Phase IV left no discernible surfaces in the west precinct. 125. Broneer 1958b, pp. 22, 23, fig. 1. Statue bases were probably dumped into the trench to get them out of the way; clearly, blocks from the stoa walls were preferred for building the Fortress, as they were regular sizes.

Virtually all recorded findspots for segments of statues 1–4 occur in the western Palaimonion precinct, none are from the eastern section, only one piece was dispersed northwest, to the Sanctuary of Poseidon, and segments of all have significant incrustation and weathering.121 As I argue below, Palaimonion statues 1–4 would have been displayed outdoors in the later Antonine phase of the western precinct of the sanctuary, Palaimonion V, and viewed together with statues of Sisyphos,122 the legendary founder of the Isthmian Games, and Blastos, the prophet.123 The original location of the sculptures in the Palaimonion and the surface on which they stood is difficult to determine, since the entire western precinct was excavated to the level of the Earlier Stadium that lay beneath. Recent study of the architecture and field records of 1956–1958 has revealed that the floor of the western precinct of the Palaimonion was raised twice: first for construction of phase III in ca. a.d. 150 and second for phase V shortly afterward in ca. 161–168. Only the lower floor of hard-packed clay and mortar was identified in the excavation. The plastered surface of the south precinct wall, however, shows clearly the line of the upper floor, which rose gently from east to west following the natural contours. The debris in which some of the sculptures were found south and southeast of the temple lay at the elevation of the second, higher floor, apparently severely eroded in late antiquity. Much of the debris filled the passage northwest of the temple, dumped after destruction of the superstructure.124 On present evidence, statues 1–4 are best associated with phase V of the sanctuary. The Sisyphos and Blastos bases were found close to each other north of the temple, in the trench of the robbed back wall of the South Stoa that closed the north side of the Palaimonion precinct.125 They were probably moved there in the early 5th century while the Hexamilion was under construction. The Iuventianus base was removed from the sanctuary before Broneer’s excavations, and so it must have been at least partially exposed to view in late antiquity or later. There is no evidence that the post-destruction ground level ever rose much above the concrete podium of the temple. Broneer considered that the bases for the sculptures of Sisyphos, Iuventianus, and Blastos were made at about the same time, as the bases and letters are very similar. The Sisyphos base is inscribed on both sides, so the statue of the Corinthians’ ancestor would likely have stood in an open area, perhaps east of the temple. The Iuventianus and Blastos bases are inscribed on a single face; thus, these statues may have stood with their backs to a building, such as the temple podium. If they stood before the temple they would probably be situated on the east, where they would face the open area and the entrance to the sanctuary; if not there, they would have stood against one of the sanctuary walls. Because of the similarity of the bases, it can be suggested that the statues of the priest and the prophet represented the two major officials of the cult. These statues and the one of Sisyphos were probably dedicated shortly after the later Antonine Palaimonion was built. The statue of Iuventianus, who was the donor of the later Antonine Palaimonion, would have been placed very prominently.

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The imperial group, on the other hand, depicts one-time initiates into the cult (albeit important ones). Thus, they were possibly placed against the south or north precinct walls, and they were likely commissioned later than the other three. The foundation along the east wall, south of the entrance might seem an appropriate place for one of these statuary groups (see Fig. 10.1). This foundation, however, is only 2.5 m wide, probably too small to support the imperial group. Possibly the inscriptions detailing the benefactions of Iuventianus were set up here.126 As for the appearance of the two missing statues, Sisyphos and Blastos, one can only conjecture as to likely statuary types. Apart from the narrative of his punishment in Hades, certain representations of Sisyphos are rare. A few vase paintings from the 5th century b.c. possibly show Sisyphos as an older, bearded man wearing a himation and leaning on a staff.127 A general idea for a sculpture with these features, with the nude upper torso creating a heroizing impression, might be conveyed by the bearded men on the east frieze of the Parthenon, or by a statue type generally used for Asklepios.128 Indeed, Philostratos (Imag. 16) describes Sisyphos as appearing wise. Blastos is a name that is relatively rare. It is known primarily from the Roman period, but it appears in combination with mantis only on the statue base at Isthmia.129 Eusebios (Hist. eccl. 5.15, 5.20) mentions a Blastos who was a religious person who caused a schism in Rome ca. a.d. 190.130 The word mantis seems to be the Greek counterpart for the Latin haruspex or augur. It appears to refer to a religious office in Roman Greece that concerned the interpretation of dreams, the flights of birds, and the entrails of victims, but not the giving of oracles, as suggested by Pausanias (1.34.4).131 At Olympia, for example, a number of inscriptions from the Roman period give the names of manteis together with those of other religious personnel, and two or three personages with this function in some cases occur on the same panel.132 The function of a mantis would differ from that of a priest, who would be concerned with established ritual.133 The appearance of a mantis might be suggested by two mythological figures with an established iconography and an oracular cult or magical powers, Amphiaraos and Kalchas. Each is depicted as an older, bearded figure 126. Inscriptions: IG IV 203; Broneer 1939, p. 189, fig. 2; and n. 53, above. For further benefactions of Iuventianus, see Geagan 1989; Dixon 2000; Kajava 2002a. 127. LIMC VII, 1994, pp. 781–787, s.v. Sisyphos I ( J. Oakley), nos. 41–43 (Athens, NM 16351; Bochum, University S 1172; Athens, Goulandris Museum SP 62); the presence and length of a chiton appear variable. 128. Parthenon, east frieze figures E 18–23, 43–46, possibly eponymous heroes of Athens: Neils 2001, pp. 158– 161. For Asklepios, see LIMC II, 1984, pp. 877, 883, nos. 116, 257, s.v.

Asklepios (B. Holtzmann). 129. Cf. LGPN I, no. 4; II, no. 10; IIIA, no. 23; IV, no. 7. The other known example of a Blastos in the Corinthia occurs on a gravestone, 2nd century a.d.(?), on the island of Panayia in the Saronic Gulf near Schoinous: Wiseman 1978, p. 31; SEG XXVIII 386; LGPN IIIA, p. 92. 130. On Blastos: RE III, 1899, col. 559, s.v. Blastos (A. Jülicher). 131. On mantis: RE XIVB, 1930, cols. 1345–1355, s.v. mantis (T. Ziehen); KlPauly 3, 1969, cols. 968–976, s.v. Mantik (C. Zintzen); Burkert 1985, pp. 111–115; Potter 1994, pp. 11–13,

167; Bremmer 1996; Dickie 2001, pp. 61–74, 237–243; Dillery 2005; Flower 2008, pp. 2, 22–71. 132. Olympia V, cols. 147–154, 179– 183, nos. 64, 65, 90–92. 133. On distinctions between mantis and priest, see Beard and North 1990a, pp. 3–9; Frankfurter 1998, chap. 5, pp. 198–237 (“Priest to Magician: Evolving Modes of Religious Authority”), and for further bibliography, p. 203, n. 27. On oracles under the empire, see Parke 1967, pp. 133–141 (at Claros), pp. 141–148 (2nd–3rd centuries a.d.); Flower 2008, pp. 58–59.

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wearing only a himation, in a leaning pose. The Isthmia prophet might have been conceived in a similar manner.134 Two well-preserved figures in Delphi and Rome wearing a himation, once identified as philosophers, may suggest the appearance.135 In addition, literary sources suggest that long hair and a laurel crown would be appropriate for a mantis.136 Manteis, also known as chresmologoi and seers, had important functions in Classical Athens, where the term may imply a title awarded to a person because of his skill, although appointments of such individuals were also made. Indication of the kind of wealth that could accrue to such individuals is provided by the story of the wandering seer Thrasyllos, who is described as becoming one of the richest men on Siphnos as a result of his use of books on the mantic art. The social prominence and wealth of such manteis are also indicated by a statue on the Athenian Acropolis of Theainetos, who was active in the mid-5th century b.c. as mantis of the general Tolmides.137 The statue of the 5th-century b.c. mantis may provide a prototype for Blastos’s statue in the later 2nd century a.d. at Isthmia. That manteis continue to play an important role in Roman Greece is indicated by inscriptions at Olympia that list seers in office from 36 b.c. to a.d. 265.138 The presence of one statue of each, mantis and priest, is notable, as these two officials would have had different functions and methods of operation. This occurrence may indicate that each official, together with someone representing the first Corinthian king and founder, Sisyphos, may have played a role in the rites of the Palaimonion cult. In addition, other marble dedications were likely set up in the later Antonine Palaimonion, which is large enough to accommodate them comfortably. The group of Pan and the Muses, 6–9, composed of underlife-size figures, was likely set up by a private donor, possibly inside the temple. The Snake Monument, 10, was possibly also a private dedication. Whatever its original form, an object composed of serpent coils is eminently appropriate for a hero cult, especially one for which ceremonies took place underground, and its placement within the sanctuary would likely have been within view of people gathered in front of the Temple of Palaimon. The interest of religious officials in dedicating statues at Isthmia appears to continue into the 3rd century. Broneer found a small object in the northeast corner of the Poseidon sanctuary that resembles the handle 134. On the hero Amphiaraos: LIMC I, 1981, pp. 691–713, s.v. Amphiaraos (I. Krauskopf ). On Kalchas: LIMC V, 1990, pp. 931–935, s.v. Kalchas (V. Saladino). See also Flower 2008, figs. 6 (Etruscan seer Laris Pulenas reclining on his sarcophagus, Tarquinia), 7 (late-4th-century b.c. mirror from Vulci, on which Kalchas, identified by inscription, leans over an altar examining a liver), 13 (the seer Theocritos standing with a liver on a late-4th-century b.c. gold amphora from Panagyurishte). 135. Delphi, Archaeological

Museum 1819: Ridgway 1990, pp. 223–225, 241, pl. 106; Flashar and von den Hoff 1993, ca. 320–310 b.c.; Dillon 2006, pp. 74, 112. Rome, Capitoline Museum 737: Helbig4 II, pp. 236–237, no. 1431 (H. von Heintze), mid-3rd century b.c.; Richter 1965, vol. 2, p. 185, figs. 1071, 1074, cynic philosopher Menippos(?). 136. Ar. Pax 1044–1046; Anth. Pal. 2.36–37 (mantis with long hair and laurel crown), 40–42 (mantipolos with laurel crown), 259–260 (Amphiaraos with laurel crown), 263–265 (Aglaos with laurel crown); Rumscheid 2000,

p. 3, n. 24. For detailed treatment of the mantis, see Roth 1982, esp. pp. 141– 142, nn. 68–70, on costume and long hair. On long, unkempt hair worn by Apuleius as priest of the imperial cult, see Apol. 4.1; Zanker 1995, pp. 233– 235; on long hair of charismatics, pp. 256–266. 137. Garland 1990, pp. 82–91; Flower (2008, p. 26) suggests that too much emphasis is placed on the Siphnian. On Thrasyllos: Plut. Arist. 27.3; Isoc. 19.6. On Theainetos, Paus. 1.27.5. 138. Weniger 1915; Flower 2008, p. 40, n. 50.

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attachment from a lamp or the tail of a dolphin. This piece, which bears the inscription Γ. ΙΟΥΛΙΟC ΕΥΤΥΧΗC ΝΕΟΚΟ[ΡΟC] (G. Ioulios Eutyches, neoko[ros]), may derive from a statue support.139 If so, it would record the dedication by a sanctuary official, the neokoros, or caretaker of the temple, which may have stood east of the Poseidon temple; if from a dolphin, this piece might indicate an additional statue of Neptune/Poseidon. Many people would have attended religious festivities in the Palaimonion. Most of the sculptures, with the exception of Sisyphos’s statue, would have been set up around the edge of the precinct so as not to impede the movement of officials and worshippers. Indeed, the placement of statues in front of a wall facing a space used for gatherings of people is common in the Roman period.140 The sculptures in the Palaimonion, in fact, would have appeared more impressive to the viewer than statues set up in a larger context such as a forum or a theater, due to the relatively small size of the sanctuary. An important position would be occupied by the statue of Iuventianus Priscus, the high priest and major patron of the sanctuary. The Verona inscription, which records Iuventianus’s extensive building program at Isthmia, specifically states that he paid for the Palaimonion temple and its ornamentation. As previously mentioned, this inscribed stele and one or two others may have been set up in the Palaimonion sanctuary. In the western precinct the viewer would also have seen the statues of Blastos the prophet, Sisyphos the founder of the games and the cult, and the emperor with his officers as a group. These sculptures would emphasize the importance of piety and of this particular cult. The statue of the priest Iuventianus Priscus extols the virtues of a prominent man whose major construction projects at Isthmia are proclaimed in several inscriptions.141 The statue’s open pose shows the priest holding a libation vessel. He is thus shown carrying out the prescribed ritual, as on a coin of Marcus Aurelius that shows a bearded priest in similar garb next to an altar and bull beside the Palaimonion temple.142 The statue of Sisyphos, located in a central space, may have called attention to someone playing his role in the cult, for Philostratos (Imag. 16) describes a painting of this sanctuary in which Sisyphos sacrifices a black bull, taken from the herd of Poseidon, to Palaimon, as on the coin mentioned above. The sculptures of the emperor and his officers are designed by means of their dress to emphasize their civilian aspect rather than a military one.143 The emperor’s image seems to have been carefully chosen so that he would appear commensurate with his generals, not towering above them on horseback or differentiated from them in costume. The dedication of an imperial sculpture in a Greek sanctuary emphasizes the importance of the eastern provinces, of the emperor’s eastern campaigns, and the attention that he paid to Greek cults. These images could be read and understood on multiple levels depending on the viewer’s geographical origins and stratum in society. The imperial group in military campaign dress may commemorate the emperor, Marcus Aurelius, and his highest generals. Their dedication at Isthmia may celebrate Marcus’s initiation into the cult of Palaimon, at which Iuventianus Priscus, the major patron of the sanctuary, officiated

139. IΣ 295: Broneer 1958b, p. 23; Isthmia IV, p. 155, no. 134, pl. 78:f (p.L. 0.208 m); LGPN IIIA, p. 177. The late Daniel Geagan’s study of this material is being edited for publication by Matthew Trundle. 140. Compare, e.g., the disposition of statuary along sides of fora of two cities in Numidia, North Africa, Cuicul (Zimmer 1989, figs. 5, 14, 15) and Thamugadi (figs. 16, 22); and on a theater facade, as Corinth IX.3, plans III, IV. 141. Corinth VIII.3, pp. 21, 89, 119–121, nos. 199–201, 306 (dated ca. a.d. 170); Isthmia II, pp. 5, 112. 142. NCP, p. 11, pl. B:XIII; Walbank 2003, pp. 346, 347, fig. 20.12:5. 143. On the conceptual change in the imperial image from military virtus to the idea of the civilis princeps, see Smith 1998, pp. 61–63.

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as high priest of the imperial cult and manager of the games. The initiation, which involved the taking of oaths, would have promised calm and safety at sea. The imperial dedication would have honored the piety of the emperor and propitiated his goodwill, and therefore makes an important contribution to the cultural history of the period. The emperor’s victorious campaigns would be signified by his costume, thereby extolling his courage and heroic virtus. The statues of the priest Iuventianus Priscus, the seer Blastos, the ancestor and founder of the cult Sisyphos, and the men holding torches, even the torches themselves, would have functioned as symbols of Palaimon’s mystery cult and initiation into the cult.144 As to the ritual context, over 1,400 lamps of a special type known as Palaimonion lamps were found in the Isthmian sanctuary, many east of the Temple of Palaimon and in the latest of three sacrificial pits (C).145 The many lamps and the torches held by statues indicate that people gathered in this area to participate in rituals that took place at night. The lamps have no handles and thus were probably set on the ground. The importance of light for initiation rituals is indicated also by the large, roughly formed marble flame from the Palaimonion referred to above. The slender shape of this flame and the square strut on one side indicate that, like the two statues from Bulla Regia mentioned above, it formed part of a statue rather than a separate torch monument. Large torches form separate dedications or part of the religious “furniture” in other sanctuaries with mystery cults. Two large marble torches were found at Eleusis, for example.146 At Samothrace, Phyllis Lehmann interpreted two marble fragments as snakes curving around the shafts of torches. She reconstructed these pieces as deriving from a pair of torches standing in the apse of the Hellenistic Hieron flanking the bema.147 Reconstruction of the torches has been questioned, but the snakes remain in some way connected with this sanctuary.148 A pair of torches was also thought to have stood outside the entrance of the Hieron and a single torch on the east.149 The presence of torch monuments may be symbolic of the mystery cult and its initiation ritual,150 as a pair of torches entwined by snakes are depicted flanking a building on a Late Hellenistic stele from Samothrace known from a drawing by Cyriacus of Ancona and by two fragments of it later recognized.151 The torch of one of the Bulla Regia statues is encircled by a snake as well.152 Thus, at Isthmia both the snakes and the torches seem to play a significant role in the cult. 144. On the use of torches in mystery cults, see Anrich [1894] 1990, pp. 214–216. 145. On Palaimonion lamps, see Isthmia III, pp. 3, 35–52. For the cult of Palaimon in the Roman period, see Koester 1990; Pièrart 1998; Pache 2004, pp. 135–180; Gebhard 2005. 146. Mylonas 1961, p. 204; Agora XXXI, p. 68. 147. Samothrace III, vol. 1, pp. 135– 138, figs. 89, 90, pls. 104, 105 (restoration drawings).

148. I thank Kevin Clinton and Bonna Wescoat for their comments (pers. comm.). 149. On the pair restored in front of the building: Samothrace III, vol. 2, pp. 17, 18, fig. 384. On the suggested torch on the east: Samothrace III, vol. 2, p. 18, fig. 348. 150. See Samothrace III, vol. 2, p. 17, n. 76, on torches as a characteristic feature of the Samothrace cult, as in many sources, e.g., Samothrace I, no. 151 (Nonnus, Dion. 4.183–185): Harmonia, as she

leaves Samothrace with Cadmus, says she will no longer see the nocturnal festive pine torch of her mother’s Hecate. 151. Samothrace II.1, pp. 79–82, no. 29; Samothrace III, vol. 1, p. 137, n. 240; Samothrace III, vol. 2, pp. 27– 28, fig. 352. Cf. two large, single torches in Rome that may have been funerary monuments: Giuliano 1985, pp. 392–395, nos. VIII, 28 (H. 2.23 m), VIII, 29 (H. 0.665 m). 152. Kruse 1975, p. 253, no. A 37, pl. 10.

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a

b Figure 10.6. 1A, right side of upper torso: (a) front view; (b) side view.

Cata Lo G ue

Scale 1:5

1

Draped male figure in tunic and himation

Figs. 10.2, 10.6–10.8

1a Right side of upper torso Fig. 10.6 IS 388 + 540 + five unnumbered fragments. IS 388: 1958, “brought from outside”; IS 540 and five unnumbered fragments: Museum marble pile. P.L. 0.575, p.W. 0.229 (front surface), p.Th. 0.277 m. Cutting for neck insert, right vertical surface: p.H. 0.073, p.W. 0.135; bottom: p.L. 0.09, p.W. 0.02 m. Bottom of neck cutting is ca. 0.115 m from top of shoulder. Seven joining fragments. Surface chipped, worn; some areas heavily encrusted. 1B Right forearm with open hand Fig. 10.7 IS 204 + 280 + 292. IS 204: east of Palaimonion temple, trench 7, destruction debris just above and on floor of later Antonine precinct; IS 280: east of Palaimonion temple, next to south precinct wall; IS 292: Poseidon sanctuary, southwest area, trench D. P.L. (mid-palm–elbow) 0.373, L. (wrist–elbow) 0.30; elbow: W. 0.112, Th. 0.105 m. Three joining fragments. Two struts broken from inside of wrist; bronze pin inserted into broken surface of one strut; a second bronze pin inserted into the midforearm; two large cuttings for metal in upper end of arm. 1C Draped left leg and knee Fig. 10.8 IS 316 + 317 + 530 + 531 + 532 + unnumbered fragment. IS 316, 317: southwest of Palaimonion temple; the rest from Museum marble pile.

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Figure 10.7. 1B, right forearm with open hand: (a) side view; (b) palm side. Scale 1:5

a

b P.L. 0.523, p.W. 0.182, p.Th. 0.064 m. Six joining fragments. Heavily weathered, encrusted. Dark stain on all surfaces may indicate red paint, as 2H (IS 522). Context: 1a from outside excavations; 1B east of Palaimonion temple and southwest Sanctuary of Poseidon; 1C debris layer on floor south of temple. 1a–1C: Marble, white, fine to medium grained, blue veined; Pentelic. Bibliography: Isthmia IV, nos. 67 (1B, IS 204), 80 (1C, IS 317), 81 (1C, IS 316).

Figure 10.8. 1C, draped left leg and knee. Scale 1:5

These three fragments have been grouped as part of one statue because of similarity of scale, marble, and findspots. Together they present part of the right torso, right forearm, and draped left leg from a statue over life-size. With the exception of one small fragment from the western end of the Temenos of Poseidon (IS 292) and another fragment brought in from outside the excavation (IS 388), these pieces were found east of or just south of the Palaimonion temple and in the Museum marble pile. 1a preserves the right side of a draped male torso from shoulder to waist. The piece is broken nearly vertically from right of neck to right hip, horizontally through hip, and vertically through right shoulder. The upper right arm is missing and all the left. The figure wears a sleeved tunic and a himation draped about the hips. An edge of the mantle is shown in back. The tunic is finished with regular, heavy rasping at a diagonal to the fold lines; rasping is lighter on the mantle, upper part of shoulder, and back. At the right break, folds emerge from under a projecting element, where the right arm was probably held against the torso. The front part of a cutting for the head and neck tenon remains behind the drapery edge at top. Tool marks and stunned areas on the figure’s right show the statue was intentionally broken. The hammering caused the upper torso to split evenly along a vein. 1B is the right forearm, which is broken through the palm and wrist and through the elbow. The arm appears to have been originally carved in one piece with the statue, to which it was connected by two small struts at the wrist. After the arm had broken it was reattached by a small bronze pin, which is still in situ on the inside of the wrist. A cutting for a metal pin in midforearm would have further aided the arm’s attachment. Two large rectangular cuttings near the elbow indicate that metal dowels secured the forearm to the upper arm. The arm, carefully modeled and smoothed, was held slightly away from the side with palm open and facing forward, as indicated by the musculature. This gesture may indicate that the figure held a patera, the curved line of which may be reflected by the break across the palm.

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Fragment 1C preserves a segment from the left front of the draped lower torso. The hanging folds of the himation rest closely on the left front of the leg in three overlapping sections. A tassel marks one corner of the mantle, the hem is incised, and the garment edge undercut. The tooling is scratchier toward the left edge; thus the more careful workmanship and higher relief at right would have been on the front of the statue. The attempt to break up the statue with a hammer is evident across the front. Traces of red pigment on knee and tassel show that the himation was painted red. Date: Third quarter of 2nd century a.d. 2

Standing male figure in boots (the first)

Figs. 10.3, 10.9–10.12

2a Right arm Fig. 10.9 IS 313 + 314 + 450 + two unnumbered fragments. IS 313, 314, 450: Palaimonion temple passage; unnumbered fragments: Museum marble pile. P.L. 0.359, W. elbow 0.093, Th. 0.099 m. Five joining fragments. Heavy encrustation and weathering. 2B Fragment of right hand IS 198 + 274 + 275. IS 198: west of pit B; IS 274: east side of west precinct; IS 275: northeast side of west precinct. P.L. 0.185, W. 0.096, Th. palm 0.046 m. Three joining fragments; heavily weathered. A metal pin in the lengthwise break results from an ancient repair or from piecing part of the hand, as in the right hand of a statue of Antoninus Pius at Aphrodisias.153 In addition, the bronze spear that the Aphrodisian statue held was attached by a metal pin at the wrist, a practice possibly followed at Isthmia as well. 2C Left hand with torch IS 308. Palaimonion temple passage. P.L. 0.143, W. 0.19, Th. 0.093, p.L. torch 0.172 m. Single fragment; outer surface weathered and encrusted. 2D Torch fragment Fig. 10.10 IS 344 + unnumbered fragment. IS 344: Palaimonion temple passage; unnumbered fragment: Museum marble pile. P.L. 0.09, W. 0.053, Th. 0.055 m. Two joining fragments; weathered and encrusted. 2e Torch fragment Fig. 10.10 IS 208 + unnumbered fragment. IS 208: east side of west precinct; unnumbered fragment: Museum marble pile. P.L. 0.13, W. 0.044–0.046, Th. 0.042 m. Two joining fragments; surface encrusted. 2F Right lower leg Fig. 10.11 IS 310 + four unnumbered fragments. IS 310: Palaimonion temple passage; unnumbered fragments: Museum marble pile. P.L. 0.445, p.L. drapery 0.13, W. drapery 0.042, Th. drapery 0.112, L. from drapery edge to top of straps 0.282, W. leg 0.101 m. Five joining fragments. 2G Left foot on plinth IS 301. Palaimonion temple passage. P.H. 0.40, p.H. foot, leg 0.32, p.L. foot 0.293, W. foot 0.117, p.W. plinth 0.56 m. Single fragment.

153. Smith et al. 2006, pp. 126–127, no. 17, pl. 17.

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Figure 10.9 (above). 2A, right arm. Scale 1:5

Figure 10.10 (right). torch fragments 2D (below) and 2E (above). Scale 1:4

a Figure 10.11 (left). 2F, right lower leg: (a) side; (b) front. Scale 1:5 Figure 10.12 (right). 2H, drapery fragment, edge of cloak. Scale 1:5

b

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2H Drapery fragment, edge of cloak Fig. 10.12 IS 522. Three fragments from Museum marble pile, one from sculpture lot 7 (probably from the Palaimonion). P.L. 0.493, p.W. 0.182, Th. 0.06–0.015 m. Four joining fragments, mended with some added plaster. Surface chipped and worn; encrusted and weathered. Traces of red pigment. Context: 2a, 2C, 2D, 2F, and 2G found in passage inside Palaimon temple; 2B, 2e come from debris layers east of the temple. 2a–2H: Marble, white, fine to medium grained, micaceous; Pentelic. Bibliography: Isthmia IV, nos. 66 (2a, IS 313 + 314 + 450), 69 (2B, IS 198 + 274 + 275), 72 (2C, IS 308), 75 (2F, IS 310), 77 (2G, IS 301; Broneer 1959, p. 326, no. 2, pl. 66:c), 82 (2e, IS 344), 83 (2D, IS 208). Fragment 2a preserves part of the figure’s right arm, bent at the elbow. The hemmed short sleeve of his tunic covers the biceps. The strongly modeled biceps indicate the flexed position of the arm, which was probably raised. 2B preserves most of the right hand, which was held open. The fingers are partly curved as if they held an object loosely. The object was probably of bronze, as it was not attached to the surviving portion of the hand. Fragment 2C depicts the left hand, broken at wrist, which holds the base of a torch. 2D and 2e preserve nonjoining fragments of the torch shaft. The torch, which would be made of bundled wood bound together at regular intervals, has sticks rendered with faceted sides, separated by incisions.154 2F shows the figure’s right lower leg and the upper portion of the boot ties. The lower edge of a garment swings out from the knee. 2G comprises the left lower leg and foot, which rests flat on a plinth, supported by a tree trunk; a small, straight segment of the plinth front remains. 2H preserves the edge of a heavy cloak, which would have hung at the figure’s right. The cloak hangs in thick, tubular folds, the edge indicated by incision. A standing male figure can be reconstructed from these eight nonjoining pieces. The figure wears a short-sleeved, short-skirted tunic and heavy paludamentum that would have been fastened at the shoulder and hung to the upper calves in back. His boots are laced above the ankles and tied in front. In his left hand he holds a torch, the base of which extends somewhat below his fingers. A long spear probably rested in the right hand; the statue is supported by a tree trunk at left. 2B (IS 274) has a bronze pin from a repair. This is located in a lengthwise break through the hand, so this statue, like Palaimonion statue 1, was repaired in antiquity. 4a (IS 302) also has a bronze pin. Note the straight channels separating the fingers in the clenched hands of Palaimonion statues 2–4. In addition, the fingers and palm have been brought to an extremely fine finish, with all tool marks eliminated and some polishing. Traces of pigment indicate that the cloak of 2H was painted red. Date: Third quarter of 2nd century a.d. 3

Standing male figure in boots (the second) 3a Right forearm IS 207. East of Palaimonion temple; lot 347. P.L. 0.158, p.W. wrist 0.075, Th. 0.06 m. Single fragment; surface weathered, heavily encrusted on inside. 3B Right hand IS 298a + b + 476. Palaimon temple passage. P.L. 0.17, p.W. 0.056, Th. 0.05 m. Three joining fragments, heavily encrusted.

154. For torches with more rounded sticks, note objects associated with the Eleusinion in Athens: Agora XXXI, p. 219, no. III.11, pl. 39 (relief with Hekate[?]); p. 221, no. III.18, pl. 40 (fragment from large torch, p.H. 0.262, Diam. 0.231 m); p. 221, no. III.19, pl. 40 (top of double-shafted torch and flame, p.H. 0.142 m).

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3C Left hand with object IS 227. Just east of Palaimonion temple. P.L. 0.126, W. knuckles 0.108, Th. 0.083 m. Single fragment; encrusted. 3D Right leg in boot IS 306 + 325. Over podium of Palaimonion temple or inside passage. P.L. 0.279, W. calf 0.135, Th. below knee 0.137 m. Two joining fragments; weathered. 3e Fragmentary leg in boot IS 326. Palaimon temple passage. P.H. 0.075, W. leg 0.101 m. Two joining fragments. 3F Left foot in boot IS 307. Palaimon temple passage. P.L. foot 0.14, W. foot 0.113, H. foot 0.08, p.L. plinth 0.198, H. plinth 0.07 m. Single fragment. Context: 3a, 3C east side of Palaimon temple; 3B, 3D–3F temple passage. 3a–3F: Marble, white, fine to medium grained. Bibliography: Isthmia IV, nos. 68 (3a, IS 207), 70 (3B, IS 298), 71 (3C, IS 227), 74 (3D, IS 306 + 325), 76 (3e, IS 326), 78 (3F, IS 307). These six nonjoining fragments are associated tentatively, as they are similar to those assigned to Palaimonion statue 2; they have similar marble, scale, and workmanship. They are presented here as they indicate the presence of a second statue, possibly of the same type, that stood in the Palaimonion equipped with tunic, short cloak, traveler’s boots, and torch. As these pieces were published in Isthmia IV, they are merely listed here, with findspots and new association, to aid the discussion. Date: Third quarter of 2nd century a.d. 4

Standing male figure in boots (the third)

Figs. 10.13, 10.14

4a Left hand with object IS 302. Southwest side of Palaimon temple. P.W. 0.098, p.L. 0.092, p.Th. 0.055 m. Single fragment; encrusted. Figure 10.13. 4B, booted lower leg. Scale 1:4

Figure 10.14. 4C, booted left(?) foot. Scale 1:4

4B Booted lower leg Fig. 10.13 IS 519. Museum marble pile. P.L. 0.273, p.W. 0.114, p.Th. 0.047 m. Four joining fragments. Root marks and heavy encrustation on some breaks, similar to encrustation on other pieces found in the Palaimonion. Fragment from back of lower leg wearing a laced boot. Faint, diagonal rasp marks remain on the skin. Hammer marks are preserved in the middle of the leg. This piece provides evidence for a third booted figure in the Palaimonion group. 4C Booted left(?) foot Fig. 10.14 IS 518. Museum marble pile. P.L. 0.131, p.W. 0.075, p.D. 0.098 m. Single fragment. Heavily weathered all over, mostly from recent exposure. Fragmentary booted foot, probably the left, from a male figure about lifesize, broken above and below anklebone. This piece adds further evidence for a third booted statue.

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mary c. sturgeon Context: 4a found with 1C, south of Palaimon temple. 4a–4C: Marble, white, fine to medium grained. Bibliography: Isthmia IV, no. 73 (4a, IS 302).

The fragmented remains of 4—parts of the left hand, a lower leg, and left foot—demonstrate the existence of a third standing male statue in the Palaimonion that, like Palaimonion statues 2 and 3, was holding an object in its clenched left hand and wearing laced boots. Part of the dowel that attached the object to the hand (4a) is preserved. Date: Third quarter of 2nd century a.d. 5

Nude statue of youth

5a Right upper arm IS 282. Palaimonion center, west side of central passage and south into South Building. P.L. 0.269, W. shoulder 0.117, W. elbow 0.07 m. Single fragment; surface weathered, partially encrusted. 5B Left forearm IS 15 + 266. IS 15: Temple of Poseidon east; IS 266: Palaimonion west, south of temple. P.L. 0.188, W. 0.06, W. wrist 0.042 m. Two joining fragments; weathered. 5C Right hand IS 329. Palaimonion east precinct, west side. P.L. 0.166, W. wrist 0.056, Th. wrist 0.041 m. Single fragment; encrusted on back. 5D Left thigh and hip IS 327. Palaimonion east precinct, west side. P.L. 0.195, W. 0.115, Th. 0.019 m. Single fragment; heavily weathered in front. 5e Right lower leg IS 278 + 257 + 281. IS 278: Palaimonion west precinct, east side; IS 257: probably Early Stadium; IS 281: Palaimonion east precinct, west side. P.L. 0.38, W. ankle 0.051, W. knee 0.079 m. Three joining fragments. 5F Left leg and ankle IS 206. Palaimonion west precinct, east of temple. P.L. 0.13, W. ankle 0.053, Th. ankle 0.068 m. Single fragment; surface weathered, heavily encrusted near heel. Context: Nine fragments associated with this statue have recorded findspots, eight of which are in the Palaimonion: four in the west side of the east precinct, three in the west precinct, and one in the central passage. Pieces found on each side of the wall separating the two precincts have joined. 5a–5F: Marble, white, fine to medium grained. Bibliography: Isthmia IV, nos. 97A–97F (5a–5F). These fragments were associated previously and identified as coming from the statue of an athlete. Their findspots and intepretation are reconsidered in light of the redefinition of the later Antonine Palaimonion. Date: Probably Antonine period.

n e w s c u l p t u r e s f r o m t h e i s t h m i a n pa l a i m o n i o n 6

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Pan

6a Head of Pan IS 205a. Front of head: east of Palaimon temple; back of head: scarp south of temple. P.H. head 0.146, W. head 0.088, L. face–tip of beard 0.103, W. temples 0.065, Th. 0.101 m. Two joining fragments; encrusted and weathered. 6B Right hand with pipes IS 205b. East of Palaimon temple. P.L. hand 0.072, p.W. hand 0.042, p.L. pipes 0.064, p.W. pipes 0.058, Th. 0.015 m. Single fragment; yellowed and encrusted. 6C Fragment of hair IS 138. Temple of Poseidon, opisthodomos. P.L. 0.192, p.W. 0.098, Th. 0.048 m. Single fragment; somewhat worn and encrusted, weathered. 6D Left hoof IS 262. Palaimonion, south of pit B. P.L. plinth 0.17, p.W. 0.09, Th. 0.04–0.046, L. foot 0.08, W. foot 0.059, p.H. foot 0.042 m. Single fragment. Context: Four of the five fragments associated with this statue were found in the Palaimonion, three in the west precinct. 6a–6D: Marble, white, fine to medium grained. Bibliography: Broneer 1958b, p. 27, no. 3, pl. 9:f (6a, 6B); Isthmia IV, nos. 45A–45D (6a–6D). Date: Probably Antonine period. 7

Lyre player

7a Left arm and hand IS 299a + b. Southwest corner of Palaimonion west precinct. P.L. upper arm 0.157, p.L. forearm, hand 0.20, W. wrist 0.032, L. object 0.128, W. object 0.02, Th. 0.015 m. Two joining fragments; surface worn at shoulder join, outside weathered. 7B Right arm and hand IS 394. Southwest corner of Palaimonion west precinct. P.L. upper arm 0.166, p.L. forearm, hand 0.187, W. wrist 0.036, Th. wrist 0.025 m. Three joining fragments; weathered. Context: All five fragments were found in the Palaimonion west precinct. 7a, 7B: Marble, white, fine grained. Bibliography: Isthmia IV, nos. 46A, 46B (7a, 7B). Date: Probably Antonine period. 8

Left hand with object IS 300 + 333. Southwest corner of Palaimonion west precinct. P.L. 0.078, W. 0.041, Th. 0.024 m. Two joining fragments.

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mary c. sturgeon Context: Both fragments come from the Palaimonion west precinct. Marble, white with bluish vein, medium grained. Bibliography: Isthmia IV, no. 47. Date: Probably Antonine period.

9

Left arm and hand with bracelet

IS 312 + 217 + 404. IS 312: southwest corner of Palaimonion west precinct; IS 217: Palaimonion east precinct, east of East Temenos wall; IS 404: Theater. P.L. (hand–elbow) 0.216, p.L. (elbow–shoulder) 0.133, W. wrist 0.037, W. upper arm 0.070 m. Three joining fragments; surface encrusted. Context: Two of the three fragments are from the Palaimonion, one each from the east and west precincts. Marble, white with bluish vein, medium grained. Bibliography: Isthmia IV, no. 48. Date: Probably Antonine period. 10

Fragmentary serpent scales

Fig. 10.15

IS 498. Palaimonion west precinct, south of south wall, 1980. P.L. 0.098, p.W. 0.055, p.Th. 0.026 m. Marble, white, medium grained. Single fragment; broken at both ends, through middle. Encrusted, weathered. These overlapping ovals with spines on a curved surface resemble the scales of the snake coils on Isthmia IV, nos. 118–120. Thus, this segment is associated with fragments that include two snake heads and their associated coils, and it may come from the same type of monument. All these fragments were found in the Palaimonion.155 Three of the snake fragments published in Isthmia IV have worked resting surfaces. Two (no. 119; no. 118B + E) have upper and lower resting surfaces as well as one on the interior. Of the third piece (no. 118A) only one resting surface is preserved; none have dowel holes. The segments with an inner resting surface show that the coils were fitted against the outer surface of another object, and so they may have acted as facing for an inferior material such as limestone. The curve of the snake fragments is very gradual. The outer curve of no. 118A indicates that if it were from a complete circle it would have a diameter of ca. 0.60 m; the curve of no. 119 would have a diameter of ca. 0.59– 0.60 m as well. Thus, they could derive from the opposite sides of the same object or from the front of two matching objects. The outer curve of no. 118B + E has a diameter of ca. 0.42 m. This piece could have been stacked on a wider piece, but such an arrangement would require a smooth surface on the lower piece ca. 0.18 m wide. No. 119 would not be a candidate for this lower piece, because the upper and lower resting surfaces have carving that extends nearly to the edge. Only a narrow portion of the resting surface of no. 118A is preserved, so it might be suitable. This monument was constructed of wide segments that are relatively short—H. 0.074 m (no. 118A), 0.078 m (no. 118B/E), and 0.040 m (no. 119)—the shortest piece being the one with the smallest diameter. The piece with a single resting surface (no. 118A), which contains a snake’s head and neck, could have been on top. Date: Roman period, probably Antonine.

Figure 10.15. 10, fragmentary serpent scales. Scale 1:2

155. Isthmia IV, no. 118 (IS 309a, b + e, c, d, f ), Palaimonion west, in passage; no. 119 (IA 514), Palaimonion west, pit B; no. 120 (IS 213), Palaimonion west, north of temple.

c hap ter 1 1

agonistic festivals, Victors, and officials in the time of nero: an inscribed herm from the gymnasium area of Corinth by James Wiseman The Isthmian Games on the Corinthian Isthmus,1 one of the four great panhellenic agonistic festivals that constituted the ancient Greek periodos,2 were transferred to Sikyon after Corinth was devastated by a Roman army under the command of Lucius Mummius in 146 b.c. and the city consequently lost its municipal status. The Isthmian Sanctuary of Poseidon itself was very likely plundered by the Mummian troops, and suffered additional damage to buildings and other facilities in the century-plus that followed when the Isthmian Games were celebrated elsewhere.3 The Isthmian festival was returned to Corinthian control soon after the 1. This chapter is a much-revised version of the paper that I presented at the symposium “Half a Century on the Isthmus,” held in June 2007 at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens (ASCSA). The symposium was organized by Elizabeth Gebhard and Timothy Gregory, who are the coeditors of this volume: my sincere thanks to them for inviting me to participate in the conference. In the preparation of this chapter I benefited greatly from conversations with Klaus Hallof of the Inscriptiones Graecae, Academia Scientiarum Berolinensis et Brandenburgensis, and Peter Funke, University of Münster, when I was reexamining the stone in June 2007. Prof. Hallof, who made new squeezes of the inscription for both of us, also provided very helpful written comments during the ensuing year after reading an earlier draft of this chapter. In October 2008 the stone was cleaned by Nicol Anastasatou, the skillful conservator of the Corinth Museum, in preparation for new photographs. I was able to reexamine the inscription then during October and November, and found that the new, more thorough cleaning of the stone

made some letters that I had earlier dotted fully legible and revealed a few letters that had not been visible before. I also had the opportunity in Corinth in 2008 to consult Ronald Stroud, University of California, Berkeley, on several occasions about readings and interpretations of the inscribed text. I am grateful for his insights, his generosity with his time, and for his unfailing good humor. Other visiting scholars in Corinth in fall 2008, especially Nancy Bookidis, provided helpful comments and references. Prof. Hallof read and evaluated the revised version of the manuscript in early 2009. I thank also for additional suggestions the anonymous readers of the manuscript for the ASCSA in 2010 and 2011. I thank Carol Stein, Managing Editor of ASCSA Publications, for her help with illustrations and her suggestions during the preparation of this manuscript. The final revisions were completed in summer 2015. I am grateful to the ASCSA staff in Corinth, led by the director, Guy Sanders; Ioulia Tzonou-Herbst, assistant director; and James Herbst, architect and expert in information technology, for their cooperation and

advice, and to the staff of the Corinth Museum for their ready assistance. I owe a deep debt of gratitude to my wife and coworker, Lucy Wiseman, for her patience and solicitude throughout the time I have spent preparing this study. My thanks to all; any errors or infelicities that remain are my own, not theirs. All illustrations in this chapter are courtesy of the University of Texas Excavations of the Gymnasium Area of Corinth. 2. The other three sets of games of the ancient Greek periodos were the Olympic Games at Olympia, the Pythian Games at Delphi, and the Nemean Games at Nemea. For additional discussion of the periodos and references, see n. 106, below. 3. See Gebhard and Dickie 2003, esp. pp. 261–264, on the destruction wrought by the troops of Mummius; Wiseman 1979, pp. 461–462, 491–496; and sources cited in both articles. Both citations deal also with evidence for the occupation of Corinth in 146–44 b.c., on which see also Williams 1978a, pp. 21–23; Williams and Russell 1981, pp. 27–34; Romano 1994; Sanders et al. 2014, pp. 58–61.

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refounding of the city by Julius Caesar in 44 b.c. as Colonia Laus Julia Corinthiensis.4 Excavations, however, have shown that the facilities at the Sanctuary of Poseidon were not repaired at once, and that the Isthmian Games were unlikely to have been held there until sometime around the middle of the 1st century a.d. The Isthmian Games, therefore, must have been held elsewhere, along with the two other sets of international games founded under the Romans, the Caesarea and the Sebastea.5 Corinth, the city in whose territory the Isthmian sanctuary lies, is the most likely location of all three sets of games during the period, but the exact venue is uncertain. A possible location for the gymnastic contests is the Hellenistic racecourse which extended more or less east–west across the area where the lower, northern part of the Roman forum was laid out.6 Gebhard has recently suggested that the racecourse might have been fixed up for reuse by the colonists, although acknowledging that the starting platforms (both Classical and Hellenistic) were highly unusual and the length of the running track was shorter than a stade. Her argument for reuse in the early colony is plausible, although the racecourse may have served limited purposes.7 In any case, the racecourse must have gone out of use by the time Cn. Babbius Philinus built a fountain decorated with statues over its west end late in the reign of Augustus, but before he held the duovirate (in a year between a.d. 7/8 and 12/13).8 A second possibility is northwest of the forum at the northern edge of the city, where the “ancient Gymnasium,” as Pausanias called it, was located (Fig. 11.1).9 Excavations have shown that the Gymnasium was built in the late 1st or early 2nd century a.d. on the site of a Hellenistic gymnasium, aban4. Gebhard 2005, pp. 182–185; 1993b, pp. 79–82, with sources and references; she also provides numismatic evidence that the first Isthmian Games under revived Corinthian control were probably celebrated in 40 b.c. See also Balzat and Millis 2013, p. 663. 5. Gebhard 1993b, pp. 82–89, where a date of a.d. 55 or 57 is proposed for the return of the games to the Isthmus; archaeological evidence for the mid-1stcentury date is detailed in Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998, pp. 416–433. Kajava (2002b) has recently proposed that the Isthmian Games returned to the Isthmus in a.d. 43. For more on these matters and on the Caesarea and Sebastea, see General Discussion, below. 6. For a brief account of the excavation of the starting lines, see Morgan 1937, pp. 549–550. The most thorough presentation of the racetrack and related structures is Williams and Russell 1981, which resulted from a restudy of all the remains of the sports complex and new excavations in the area; see also Romano 1993a, pp. 43–64, 85–94.

7. Gebhard 2005, pp. 186–187. Williams notes that the toe grips, 0.18– 0.20 m apart, in the starting platforms require a wider stance than any other starting line known in Greece. For that reason and others he suggests that the racecourse was not suitable as a training ground for competitions elsewhere, and that it had been “designed for a very specific race,” or event, citing several possibilities, including a torch race: Williams and Russell 1981, pp. 11–15, quote from p. 14. In Corinth the running course from the eastern starting line to a possible turning post is 158 m; or, if the track continued past those remains, it might have been no longer than ca. 165 m because of site topography: Williams and Russell 1981, pp. 9– 10. No western finish/starting line has been found, but it presumably marked a length shorter than any known running track in a Greek stadium. On the other hand, although the Greek stadion as a unit of measurement has a known length of 600 (ancient Greek) feet, the foot length varies according to time and

place. The different foot lengths would be a major reason why the length of running tracks as measured in Greek stadia is notoriously variable. Broneer, in his discussion of the foot measure in the Greek world, gives the length of the running track of the Later Stadium at Isthmia (probably Hellenistic when originally constructed) as 181.20 m from starting line to finish line, yielding a foot length of 0.3204 m, while the length of the running track at Olympia was 192.13 m: Isthmia I, pp. 174–181; see also Isthmia II, pp. 63–64. The racecourse in the stadium at Nemea has been shown to be ca. 178 m (based on a foot length of 0.296+ m), approximating the running track in the stadium at Delphi: Miller 1990, pp. 176–177. 8. Gebhard 2005, pp. 186–187. The date of the fountain follows the dating in Williams 1989, pp. 158–162, which Gebhard cites in her n. 81. On Cn. Babbius Philinus and his dates, see below, in the General Commentary on line 20. 9. Paus. 2.4.5: γυμνάσιον τὸ ἀρχαῖον.

an inscribed herm from the g ymnasium area

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Figure 11.1. Gymnasium area of Corinth, north of the Theater, with the bath and fountain complex to the west. A. G. Grulich and J. Travlos

10. For the preliminary reports of the University of Texas Excavations of the Gymnasium Area of Corinth, 1965–1972, see Wiseman 1967a, 1967b, 1969, 1972.

doned and pillaged for stone, but partially built over by the 4th century a.d. The Gymnasium was poorly preserved, although much of its plan can be determined, showing pi-shaped stoas at the east end, which enclosed an exercise and training area ca. 68 m in width (north–south). Segments of the Gymnasium’s south stoa, with an interior colonnade, are preserved over a length of 158 m with space farther west for an additional ca. 25 m, or more, if the west end of the stoa was destroyed by a Late Roman wall.10 No parts of any running tracks, one of which would have been in the south stoa, were preserved in the excavated portions of the Gymnasium. Excavations in the open-air training ground on the north side of the same stoa have been limited, but have shown that most of the area was occupied by a cemetery mainly of the 5th and 6th centuries a.d. The area is large enough to have served as a place for athletic contests and spectators during the early years of the colony, but no certain evidence of appropriate structures has yet been excavated.

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Romano has recently argued that an apsidal structure near the west end of the Gymnasium and south of its line is part of the spina of the circus of imperial times, and that a conical marble element was a meta, a “turning post,” which would have stood upon it near one end. He further associates with the circus a marble egg-shaped object recovered in the same excavation.11 He situates the circus within his plan of centuriation for the colony and dates its construction to the “mid- to late Augustan” period. He also proposes it as the site for equestrian contests of the Caesarea and sometimes the Isthmian Games. There are several attractive features of Romano’s proposals, including the proximity not only to a likely running track preceding the Gymnasium, but also to the Theater where some or all of the musical and declamatory events of the great festivals might have been performed.12 A troubling aspect is that geophysical survey of the area has produced no evidence for any other part of a circus.13 Future research, including further excavation, may resolve this issue. In the meantime, Romano’s identification of the apsidal structure and of associated artifacts (several items in addition to the marble cone and egg) remains persuasive evidence for the proposed circus.14 There is yet another important element of the sports complex at the north edge of the city. Nestled into a hollow of the cliff face just below the western end of the Gymnasium was a bath and fountain complex that must have served a part of the athletic community of Corinth and perhaps some of the visiting participants in contests of the Corinthia.15 In Roman imperial times the complex included a large swimming pool, with a monument rising in its center, set within a marble-paved courtyard (Figs. 11.2, 11.3). 11. Romano 2005. The marble cone, A-767, was found just above and on the north side of the structure. Three such cones, grouped in a triangle on a podium base, were normally set up at each end of the spina in a Roman circus. The marble egg, S-2879, is comparable, as Romano points out, to the egg-shaped stone elements widely used in Roman circuses, either as part of a mechanism for indicating laps remaining (or completed) in a horse or chariot race, or as a crowning member of a meta. On the marble cone and egg, see Romano 2005, pp. 587–590, 593–595, along with sources cited there, especially Humphrey 1986. The marble egg was found in a rubbish dump of the 6th century a.d. above the apsidal structure, along with several other items associated with athletics: Wiseman 1969, pp. 71–72, pls. 22:c (marble egg), 25:a (cone or meta). 12. Romano 2005, figs. 15 (the relationship of the proposed circus to the Theater, Odeion, and his proposed centuriation of the city north of the Gym-

nasium), 17 (the relationship of the restored circus to the excavated structures of the Gymnasium area). 13. On the geophysical survey, conducted 1999–2003: Blackman 2002, p. 19; Sanders 2004, pp. 176–179. 14. On several other artifacts and circumstances provided as additional evidence for his identification of the circus, see Romano 2005. The earliest published hypothesis of the function of the truncated marble cone was that of Williams (1987), who considered its shape appropriate for a lignum (a log, or a tapered column in shape) in a sanctuary of Diana Nemorensis that might have been established by the early colonists of Corinth. His argument had the additional merits of associating the marble cone with the reused orthostates of the Apsidal Building, and the closeness of the original sanctuary (presumably in the vicinity of its reused elements) to a good water source—the Fountain of the Lamps—and to the Asklepieion, with which Diana/Artemis had important

mythological ties. Tzouvara-Souli (2001, p. 235) identified the marble cone as a baetyl (sacred stone) of Apollo Agyieus, mentioning it in connection with her study of cults of Apollo in Corinthian colonies of northwestern Greece. Walbank (2010, pp. 163–170) has recently revived the identification of the marble cone as a baetyl of Apollo Agyieus, adding as evidence her interpretation of images on certain coins and some representations in other media. These intriguing hypotheses are likely to prove more difficult to confirm than that of a circus. 15. The complex was discovered in 1967 during excavations of the Lerna supply-tunnel system when excavators entered the back of what we eventually learned was the underground bathhouse. This discovery led to the excavation of the entire complex as part of the Gymnasium Area excavations: Wiseman 1969, pp. 72–78; 1972, pp. 9–42; see also Wiseman 1979, pp. 511–512.

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Figure 11.2. swimming pool of the bath and fountain complex, and view north from the cliff edge at the west end of the Gymnasium. Photo

J. Wiseman

16. The bath went out of use following the Mummian devastation of Corinth in 146 b.c. It may not have been reopened until the early part of the 1st century a.d., perhaps during the reign of Tiberius (a.d. 14–37). By sometime in the 4th century a.d. the underground bath became a cult place where terracotta lamps were deposited until well into the 6th century a.d. The exterior areas were not maintained for use as part of a bath complex after sometime in the 4th century a.d. The filling in of the pool, courtyard, and interior chambers accelerated in the mid-6th century and continued through medieval times. See Garnett 1975 for a study of lamps from the underground bath; on aspects of the cult in late antiquity, see Jordan 1994a; Rothaus 2000, pp. 126–134; Cline 2011, pp. 105–136. 17. The discovery of the inscribed herm was noted in Wiseman 1972, p. 20. The author regrets the long delay in its publication.

The south side of the complex had three entries into underground chambers, as may be seen in the state plan (Fig. 11.3). The entrance on the east gave access to a large water reservoir; in the middle, a masonry-vaulted passage led to a nymphaeum with imitation cavern decor; and on the west, a marble-encrusted passage led to a vaulted bathing room with a history of use that spanned more than nine centuries, from the mid4th century b.c. to the mid- or late 6th century a.d.16 The entire complex was buried in deep deposits of earth, sand, and debris that had washed in over the centuries after the bath went out of use in late antiquity: more than 6.5 m of such deposits covered the pool, with 5 m over the courtyard, and the several chambers and tunnels that supplied them with water were filled almost to the top with sediments. A large number of artifacts were found in the excavations, including marble sculpture, architectural pieces, and inscriptions, many of which had fallen or been thrown or pushed onto the courtyard or into the swimming pool from the Gymnasium plateau above during the 5th and 6th centuries. Some of the most interesting marble pieces were discovered during the excavation of deposits in the swimming pool, including the upper part of a headless, white-marble herm (I-1970-39) that was inscribed with the names of officials and some victors in contests of imperial games in honor of the emperor Nero and of the Isthmia and Caesarea agonistic festivals.17

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x

The herm came to light on August 26, 1970, in a sandy, clayey deposit north of the southwest stairway that led down into the pool from the south courtyard. It was lying parallel and close to the west wall of the pool with its inscribed face up at a depth of 0.68 m below the level of the marble pavement of the court. A marble bench support lay next to the herm on the south side (Fig. 11.4).18 Another more extensive layer of marbles, including two portrait heads, probably of athletes,19 was revealed after we removed the herm and excavated about another half meter of washed-in and

18. Context storage lot 6625. The marble bench support is A-1970-60: Wiseman 1972, p. 22, no. 17, pl. 9. 19. Corinth S-1970-13, S-1970-14: Wiseman 1972, p. 21, nos. 14, 15, pls. 8, 9:a.

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Figure 11.3 (opposite). State plan of the bath and fountain complex, showing findspot of inscribed herm (grid J/37). Grid squares are 2 m to a side. D. B. Peck Jr.

Figure 11.4. Inscribed herm and marble bench support (south at top of photograph). Photo J. Rollins

dumped deposit.20 There was yet another layer of marble fragments below this group before we reached the floor of the pool, which lies ca. 1.62 m below the pavement of the courtyard. Other areas of the pool produced similar groups and layers of marble and other artifacts. It is apparent that many of the objects found their way into the bath complex from above, since among the items in the pool were several tombstones and tombstone fragments from the cemetery that spread over the northern part of the plateau of the Gymnasium in late antiquity.21 The herm might originally have stood either some place on the upper plateau or in the courtyard of the bath complex.22 The former is perhaps a bit more likely, in part because the bulk of the sculptural and epigraphical material had to have come from the plateau—some because their nature precludes the bath as their original location (e.g., Early Christian tombstones), some because the courtyard and its exedra could not have accommodated the number of monuments 20. Context storage lot 6626. 21. Called by the excavators the Lerna Hollow Cemetery: Wiseman 1967a, pp. 31–35; 1967b, pp. 417–420; 1969, pp. 79–87, 92–94; 1972, p. 8; Wesolowsky 1973. 22. Perhaps on the grounds of the Gymnasium. Herms also “were an important element of Roman circuses,

and were often set up between the starting gates,” as Romano reminds us: Romano 2005, p. 609, n. 86; see Humphrey 1986, pp. 52–53 (herms in the circus of Lepcis Magna), 138– 151 (numerous representations of herms in circuses), and several other discussions in the same book.

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represented by the many pieces. What is more, only the upper part of the herm is preserved, and the missing lower part was not found in the bath complex. The herm may have been reused (see the description of Face B, below). One might argue also that the officials of the Gymnasium might have preferred to set up the herm where it would be seen by more people than in the restricted space of the courtyard surrounding the pool. It was in the Gymnasium area on the plateau, after all, that three other lists of victors were discovered, all in the early part of the 20th century.23

D esCri P t ion oF tH e H er M The preserved height of the herm is 0.685 m measured from the top of the right shoulder, the highest preserved part, to the lowest preserved end, near the bottom of the socket for the genitalia (Fig. 11.5). The nearly complete (though still headless) herm of a.d. 3 (see n. 23) has a height of 1.34 m, leading to the conjecture that we have about half of the herm. I note also that there are 71 lines on Face A (the front) of the earlier herm and 31 on I-1970-39. A major difference, however, is that the former was inscribed on three faces; this one is inscribed only on the front face, at least in the part preserved. Face B (Fig. 11.6:a), where the right “arm” would be attached, was intentionally and crudely roughened, perhaps for a layer of mortar or to reduce the width slightly to enable a fit for reuse of the stone. Face C (Fig. 11.6:b), where the left “arm” would be attached, had been carefully smoothed; there has been some wear, scratches, and stone damage, but enough of the smooth face is preserved to ascertain that no letters were inscribed on the preserved part of this face. There are rectangular sockets on both faces for the insertion of “arms.” The dimensions of the socket of Face B are H. 0.08, W. 0.055, D. 0.055 m; of Face C, H. 0.075, W. 0.058, D. 0.055 m. Both sockets begin 0.04 m below the highest preserved part of the respective shoulders. There is a circular dowel hole (Diam. 0.04, D. 0.052 m) at the top of the herm for the attachment of the head; an uneven rounded space for the lower part of the neck of the attached head is poorly preserved (Fig. 11.6:d). A curly lock of hair extends down from each shoulder along the curved profile of the chest, ending at the top of the smoothed face for the inscription. The mass of hair on the left shoulder was elaborated above the lock with braids or perhaps with strips of ribbons. There are traces of a similar arrangement on the less well preserved right shoulder. Curly locks of hair hang down along the upper back of the herm (Fig. 11.6:c). Several narrow stone veins protrude from the surface of the stone and extend 23. The first two discovered were published by Meritt in Corinth VIII.1, pp. 14–21, nos. 14 (I-751, a headless marble herm of a.d. 3 found in 1917; improved reading of Face A in SEG XI 61), and 15 (I-750, part of a marble triangular stele of a.d. 137; exact date

of discovery was not recorded). The latter inscription was later joined to another fragment (I-813 + 832) published in the same volume, pp. 27–28, no. 18: Spawforth 1974, pp. 297–299, no. 2. The third was part of a triangular marble stele of the 2nd century a.d.

excavated in the southwest cavern of the Fountain of Lerna in 1933: Corinth VIII.3, p. 98, no. 228 (I-1170). The 11 published victors lists from the Corinthia are discussed in the General Discussion, with an analytical list of the inscriptions in n. 187, below.

an inscribed herm from the g ymnasium area

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Figure 11.5. Herm i-1970-39: Face a. Scale 1:5. Photo I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti

24. “Hermès était le dieu par excellence du gynmnase”: Gauthier and Hatzopoulos 1993, p. 95, n. 1, where additional references are cited.

below and alongside the hair on the back. Similar stone veins are visible elsewhere on the herm; a particularly prominent one is on Face A to the left of the heading in line 23, and another at the bottom left of line 4. The long tresses of hair indicate that the herm was probably of a deity, perhaps Hermes, the god most often associated with a gymnasium,24 or Heracles, Apollo, or Dionysos, who are all closely associated with athletic contests and gymnasia. Portrait herms normally do not have such elaborate treatments of hair. The herm of a.d. 3 also had long tresses similarly arranged, which were not mentioned in Meritt’s publication in Corinth VIII.1. The socket on Face A for the genitalia, which would have been carved as a single separate piece, is oval at the top for pubic hair (W. 0.125 m) with a shallow plateau (D. below Face A, 0.005 m). There is a square hole in the center of the oval (H. 0.055, W. 0.055, D. 0.02 m) for the plug of the attachment, and the shallow plateau extends ca. 0.03 m from the lower end of the square hole (with the same W. of the hole) to the preserved end of the stone, and would originally have continued a few centimeters farther, for the underside of the carved scrotum.

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a

b

c Figure 11.6. Herm i-1970-39: (a) Face B, not inscribed; (b) Face C, not inscribed; (c) back of herm showing hair; (d) top of herm showing cuttings for attachment of the head, tresses of hair on shoulders. Scale 1:7. Photos I. Ioannidou and L. Bartzioti

d tH e insC riP t ion Much of the inscribed face of the herm has suffered greatly over time: most sections are well worn and marked with pits and scratches; part of the right side is broken away, and some parts of the inscribed face are completely obliterated (Fig. 11.7). The upper part of the stone is especially worn, and there are some signs of destruction of letters, presumably deliberate as a result of the damnatio memoriae of Nero (Fig. 11.7:a). A short horizontal abbreviation mark is clear above many abbreviated praenomina, and probably occurred even where the mark cannot now be seen. A hasta occurs at the top of alphas, lambdas, and deltas throughout, but also occurs on the vertical stroke of phi (top and bottom) and kappa, sometimes dramatically so: the hasta might rise well above the line of other letters in the same line. For the smaller of those letters in lines on the lower

Figure 11.7 (opposite). Details of inscription on Face a: (a) lines 1–5; (b) lines 6–12; (c) lines 13–14; (d) lines 15–20; (e) lines 23–31. Scale 1:2. Photos J. Wiseman

5

a

10

b

c

d

e

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part of the herm, they become less pronounced, except sometimes for the alpha where the hasta remains large, approximately equal to half the height of the letter that is otherwise seldom larger than other letters in the line. Small serifs are preserved in several instances on both ends of the arms of chi, the arms of xi, and the top of iota; their use may have been more frequent in this inscription, but simply not preserved. The readings are based on multiple reexaminations of the stone, the use of enlarged digital images of the inscription, and readings of squeezes.

te xt Corinth I-1970-39 Herm: P.H. 0.685, W. 0.31, Th. 0.24 m. L.H.: line 1, 0.03; lines 2, 11, 0.01; line 3, 0.009–0.01; line 4, 0.014; line 5, 0.009–0.011 (alphas with hastae); lines 6, 25, 0.008; line 7, 0.011– 0.016 (alpha with hasta); lines 8, 23, 0.01–0.011; lines 9, 10, 24, 0.008– 0.009; lines 12–14, 0.007; line 15, 0.007 (kappas = 0.010); lines 16 (phi = 0.015), 18 (kappa = 0.012, 0.013; phi = 0.017), 0.007–0.008; line 17, 0.012; line 19, 0.011; line 20, 0.008 (beta = 0.01); lines 26–28, 30, 0.007–0.008; line 29, 0.005–0.009; line 31, 0.005–0.006 (alpha with hasta = 0.009) m. a.d. 57

20

Ἀ̣ γ α̣ θ̣ [ῇ] Τ̣ ύ̣ χ̣ [ῃ] Ἔ̣τ̣ους̣ [ ζπ ἀπὸ τῆς] [ἐν Ἀκτίῳ Καίσ]α̣ρος̣̣ ν̣ί̣κ̣ης Α ὐ τ ο [κ ρ] ά τ ο ρ ι Νερῶνι̣ [Κλ]αυδίῳ Καίσαρι Σ̣[ε]β̣αστῷ Γερμανικῷ τὸ̣ β̣΄ κα̣ὶ̣ Λ. Κα̣λ[πουρνίῳ Πισ]ῶνι ὑ̣πάτοι[ς] Ἀγωνοθέτου Τι(βερ)ίου Κλαυ̣δίου Πουβ̣λίου υἱοῦ Δεινίπ[που] Ν̣ερωνήων Κλαυδιήων Καισαρήων Σεβ̣ασ̣[τήων] [Γε]ρμανικήων καὶ Ἰσθμίων καὶ Καισαρήων̣ Ἑλληνοδικῶν δὲ Τι. Κλαυδίο[υ] Λικίνου, Λ̣. Ἀν[τ]ω̣ν[ίο]υ̣ [. . 5. . .]ο̣ν̣[- - - -], Α. Οὐατρονίου Λ̣α̣βεῶνος, Λ̣. Αἰμιλ̣ίου [.]υ̣νικο[υ], Π. Ταδίου Ἀ̣λ̣ει[.]ι[.]α̣νοῦ, Τι. Κ̣λ̣α̣[υ]δ̣ίου Μα[ξ]ίμου, Κ. Κορνηλίου Αἰ[. .]ίου, Π. Κ̣ορν̣[ηλί]ου [. .]ο[.]ι[.]ιν̣ου, Κ. Φαδίου Ἱρτια̣νοῦ, [- - - - -10–12 - - - - - - -]λ̣ίου Πολυαίνου̣ Εἰσαγωγέος Κ. Φαδίου Κ. υἱοῦ̣ Θ̣ά̣λλου Ξυστ̣άρχου̣ Γν. Βαββίου ᾿Ιτ̣αλικοῦ

25

vacat vacat Γυμνικῶν Ν̣εικῶντ̣ες Ἀ̣ γώ̣ν̣ω̣ν̣ [π]α̣ί̣δ̣ω̣ν̣ δ̣ρ̣όμ̣ο̣ν̣, Μ. Αντώνι̣ος [. . .]τ̣ιος Κορίνθιος ἀ̣γ̣ε̣ν̣ε̣ίων δρόμον, Λ̣. Ἰούλιος̣ Ο̣[. .]ρ[. .]ν̣ιος Κ̣[ο]ρ̣ί̣ν̣θ̣ι̣ο̣[ς]

5

10

15

an inscribed herm from the g ymnasium area

30

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ἀ̣ν̣δ̣ρ̣ῶ̣ν δρ̣ό̣μον̣, [.] Ἀ̣ρ[. .]ν[. .]ο̣[. .]λ̣[- - -6–7 - - - -]α̣ν̣ὸς υἱ̣ό̣[ς] [πα]ί̣δ̣ων δρόμον, Π. Καν[ε]ί̣ν̣ι̣ος Κορνηλ̣ιαν̣ὸ̣ς̣ Κο̣[ρίνθιος] Μ. Ὠκταουιαν̣ὸ[ς], Μ. Πομ̣[- - - -8–9 - - - - -] Κορίνθιος̣ [- - - -] [- ? -] Σεβαστῆ̣̣α̣ [. .]ο̣το̣ρ̣[.]ο[. . .]θ̣[- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -] [. .στ]ά̣δ̣ιον παίδα̣[ς . . . ]α̣ρα̣[- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -] [. .στ]ά̣δ̣ιον ἄνδρα̣[ς - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -] [- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -]

tra n sl at i on With Good Fortune. In the 87th year after the victory of Caesar at Actium, (4) when the consuls were the emperor Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus for the second time and L. Calpurnius Piso, (7) (and) when Tiberius Claudius Dinippus, son of Publius, was agonothetes of the Neronea Claudiea Caesarea Sebastea Germanicea and the Isthmia and the Caesarea, (11) and when the hellenodikai were Ti. Claudius Licinus, L. Antonius [. . .5 . .]on[- - - -], A. Vatronius Labeo, L. Aimilius [.]unicus, P. Tadius Alei[.]i[.]anus, Ti. Claudius Maximus, Q. Cornelius Ai[. .]i[.]s, P. Cornelius [. .]o[.]i[.]inus, Q. Fadius 10–12 Hirtianus, [. .] [- - - - - - - - - - - -]lius Polyaenus, (17) (and) when the eisagogeus was Q. Fadius Thallus, son of Q(uintus), (19) (and) when the xystarches was Cn. Babbius Italicus, (21, 22) (vacat) (23) the victors of the athletic contests were: Boys’ dromos: M. Antonius [. . .]tius, Corinthian; Youths’ dromos: L. Ioulius O[. .]r[. .]nius, Corinthian; Men’s dromos: [.] Ar[. .]n[. .]o[. .]l [- - -6–7 - - - -]anus, the son; Boys’ dromos: P. Caninius Cornelianus, Corinthian; (28) M. Octavianus, M. Pom[- - - - 8–9 - - - - -], Corinthian [- - -] [- - - -] Sebastea [. .]otor[.]o[. . .]th[- - - -]; Stade (race), Boys: [. . .]ara[- - - -] Stade (race), Men: [- - - -] [- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -]

Conv en t i on s i n th e tran sl at i on Anglicized Latin forms of personal names, imperial titles, and their derivatives are used throughout. Titles of festival officials are transliterations of the Greek terms and are in italics. I have not placed dots below incomplete letters. Brackets have been omitted for restorations that are certain and are used only for spaces where restorations are uncertain; preserved or partially preserved letters in a word or name with such brackets are italicized. Parentheses enclose words that do not appear in the Greek text and have been inserted by the author for clarity of sense or syntax. Line numbers in parentheses and indented lines indicate the beginnings of major sections of the text.

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ep i g rap hic a l Comm entary Line 1. The surface is worn almost smooth, but there are pits and scratches, and traces of several very faint, large letters may be seen in strong slanting light. The upper part of each letter is on the chest of the herm, with the bottoms of the letters extending 0.023 m below the line created by the transition from the flat inscribed face to the curved profile of the chest. The height of the letters (0.03 m) was measured on the legible gamma and the circumference of the theta. The alphas each have a small hasta; the crossing of the diagonals of the first alpha is 0.028 m from the left edge of the stone, the lower parts of the diagonals are missing, as is the left side of the crossbar. The vertical of the gamma is 0.052 m from the left edge of the stone. The second alpha does not preserve the lower parts of the diagonals or a crossbar. Most of the circumference of the theta is preserved, and there is a possible trace of the crossbar. There is little or no extra space between the two words. The verticals of the first two letters of the second word are faintly visible, but not the horizontal bar of the tau, and only the lower parts of the rising diagonals of the upsilon. The chi has most of the left-to-right descending stroke, but only the upper part of the right-to-left descending line. Line 2. In line 2 the letters of the first word are very faint, but visible on the stone in slanting light and in enlarged scanned images. The epsilon begins the first word and has its vertical 0.031 m from the left edge of the stone. The vertical and top and bottom bars of the epsilon are preserved, and there are small serifs on the two bars; the beginning of the middle bar is also visible. The vertical of the tau is 0.039 m from the left edge of the stone; traces of the top bar are preserved. The omicron fills the space 0.045–0.053 m from the left edge of the stone. The upsilon preserves its vertical at 0.057 m from the left edge; the lower parts of the rising diagonal strokes are also preserved. The upper bar, the left side of the bottom bar, and part of the upper slanting stroke of the sigma are preserved; the left edge of the upper bar is 0.06 m from the left edge of the stone. Line 3. Several letters are faintly visible near the right end of the line. A rho has its vertical above the right vertical of the first nu in ΝΕΡΩΝΙ̣ of line 4. Two diagonals cross and rise in a hasta to the left of the rho, thereby forming a likely alpha. To the right of the rho is an omicron. Parts of top and bottom bars and of both slanting lines yield a dotted sigma for the next letter. The next letter, the first letter of another word, is likely a nu: the upper two-thirds of both verticals and of the downward diagonal to the right are preserved. A vertical stroke seems very close to the nu, but may be an iota. The following letter, almost obliterated by stone damage, is likely a kappa: the ends of the diagonal strokes can be seen. The kappa is followed by a particularly well-worn area in which there seems to be an eta with all elements preserved: the left vertical is fainter than the faint right vertical. The final sigma is barely visible near the right edge of the worn face. Line 4. Letters in the first word of the emperor’s title are more widely spaced (ca. 0.015 m) than those of the second word (ca. 0.010 m). There is a blank space of ca. 0.07 m from the left edge of the herm to the first letter of the title. Almost all the letters of the first word are faint, but legible:

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I have bracketed only two letters: ΚΡ. The stone has suffered greatly in the area of the name ΝΕΡΩΝΙ,̣ but all the letters can be seen on the stone: the iota is very faint and barely visible, so I have dotted it. Line 5. The first two letters are in a well-worn area and are not preserved; the succeeding 12 letters are faint but legible. The first sigma of the third word has the top and bottom horizontal strokes preserved and part of the lower angled line. Following the bracketed epsilon, the beta has the top and bottom of the vertical preserved, and the top and right side of the upper curved line. The fourth word of the name is fully visible. Following the complete name is a distinct tau. The omicron that must follow that letter is poorly preserved because the stone here is very worn and battered: I see the lower part of the circumference and the curved line as it rises on the left. A possible beta is very faint but represented by what seems to be the upper part of the letter. Line 6. The vertical of the kappa, first letter of line 6, is 0.026 m from the left edge of the stone. Upper parts of the diagonals of an alpha are preserved, but no crossbar; part of a vertical stroke indicates an iota. The kappa of the nomen is very faint, but complete. Diagonals of the alpha cross to make a hasta, but the crossbar is uncertain. The preserved omega of the cognomen is above the upsilon in line 7. The upsilon of the final word has most of the vertical and the upper parts of both arms. All letters of line 6 are very faint in this well-worn part of the inscription. Line 7. Alpha has a vertical hasta that extends above the line. Line 8. The first two letters are the normal abbreviation of the praenomen, but iota, omicron, and upsilon, the last three letters of the praenomen, were also incised in smaller letters (0.005–0.006 m) before the nomen. In the nomen, kappa, lambda, and alpha all have large hastae at the top; dotted upsilon has the lower part of the vertical leg and the left upper arm. In the name of the father, the entire upper part of the beta is visible. Line 9. Most of the right vertical leg of the initial nu is preserved in the first word. In the final word, the beta is mostly obliterated: I see only the lowest part of the vertical and of the lower curved line; the sigma has part of its lower horizontal stroke and the lower beginning of the diagonal. Line 10. The first two letters are not preserved. Of the remaining letters, only the final nu is incomplete: the upper part of the left vertical leg is preserved. Line 11. There is a vacant space of 0.087 m to the left of the heading. Line 12. In the second name, the lower halves of two diagonals of a probable lambda are visible for the abbreviated praenomen. The curved top of the dotted omega is visible, and the lower vertical of the upsilon. In the cognomen I see the right side of the curved line of the omicron and part of the descending diagonal of the nu. Line 13. The first letter has a right diagonal, a top with vertical hasta, and the upper part of a left descending diagonal. The letter may be an alpha, lambda, or delta, but the alpha for Αὔλος occurs with the nomen in Corinth. In the nomen, the tau is crowded against the preceding alpha; the rho is in the damaged area but legible. In the cognomen, the hasta and lower right diagonal of the lambda are visible; the alpha has both the top with hasta and the lower left diagonal. In the second name, the first

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lambda preserves its top and left slanting line; the second lambda has only the upper part of the left diagonal. Cognomen: the upsilon has its vertical leg and possibly the upper part of the right ascending stroke. Line 14. There is a space before the first cognomen, whose first two letters are only faintly preserved, and there is stone damage: both letters have a pair of diagonals crossing at their tops, so the reading is Δ̣Α̣, Α̣Δ̣, Λ̣Α̣, or Α̣Λ̣. The ensuing letters favor the last suggestion. After legible ΕΙ the next letter is bracketed: it has top and bottom bars preserved but not a middle stroke, so might be epsilon, xi, or sigma. Following a visible iota there is space for another letter before the alpha, whose upper diagonals and beginning of a hasta are preserved. The final three letters of the cognomen are legible. In the nomen of the second name, the upper part of the vertical and both diagonals of the kappa are faint but legible. The lambda preserves the top and part of the left diagonal: most of the right diagonal is destroyed. The alpha has a hasta and the upper part of both diagonals. The delta has a faint hasta and the upper parts of both diagonals. Line 15. The letters in this line have a height of 0.007 m except the two initial kappas, H. 0.010 m. In the second name, the kappa is very faint, though I think I see all elements; the nu has the left vertical leg and the upper part of the right leg. The cognomen has multiple bracketed lacunae; the nu has a diagonal descending to the right. Line 16. The phi of the first nomen is very large (H. 0.015 m), with large hastae at top and bottom of the vertical. In the cognomen the diagonals of a likely alpha (tilted?) are visible. The lambda of the second nomen has the top preserved of the converging diagonal strokes. The final upsilon of the cognomen has the right ascending diagonal preserved. Line 17. The omicron instead of omega in the genitive ending is unusual. Line 18. Both kappas are large (H. 0.013, 0.012 m, for first and second kappa, respectively), but the phi including its long hastae is even larger, H. 0.017 m. Both kappas have distinct abbreviation marks. There is blank space of 0.024 m after the nomen and 0.007 m after the second kappa. Cognomen: all letters are faint but legible, except that the stroke in the center of the theta is not visible, nor is the crossbar in the alpha, and so the letters are dotted. Line 19. Xi has serifs on the top and bottom horizontal bars. All letters are certain; two letters are dotted because they are incomplete. Tau: the horizontal bar is visible but stone damage has destroyed all but short traces of the vertical at the top and bottom. For the upsilon, part of the vertical leg and right diagonal arm are visible. Line 20. The area of the cognomen is very worn and damaged, but all letters are certain: the tau has the vertical leg and part of the horizontal bar on the right; alpha and lambda are faint; the second iota lost its middle to stone damage. Line 23. The initial letter of the second word is a nu: the left vertical is clear as well as the upper two-thirds of the descending diagonal, and the upper part of the right vertical. The tau is missing the horizontal bar. I dot all the letters of the final word except the gamma. The upper part of the left downward stroke and the hasta at the top are preserved of the alpha. Part of the left side of the first omega with its tail is preserved; the

an inscribed herm from the g ymnasium area

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nu has the upper part of the downward diagonal and the upper part of the second vertical; the left side of the final omega is visible. Line 24. The distance from the left edge of the herm to the left leg of the mu, the abbreviated praenomen of the first name, is 0.099 m. Traces preserved are the upper parts of several letters probably of two words, following a bracket for the first letter of the line: only the first omicron of the second suggested word is fully legible. The reading is based in part on the tops of the letters, and in part on the legible letters of the first two words in lines 25 and 27. There is an abbreviation mark above the first leg of the mu, the abbreviated praenomen. In the nomen, the top half of the iota is preserved. In the cognomen, the tau has the middle part of the vertical and left part of the top bar. Line 25. The first five letters are very faint in this well-worn part of the stone. The top of a likely alpha with hasta is barely visible below the space for the pi of line 24. The next letter preserves the upper part of a vertical and the beginning of a horizontal bar to the right at top, so is likely a gamma. A vertical and slight traces of the beginnings of three horizontal bars to the right indicate an epsilon. The left vertical of the nu is visible and the space following is sufficient for the rest of the letter. The vertical and parts of three horizontal bars to the right indicate an epsilon. The final three letters of the first word and all letters of the second word are legible. The letters of the word δρόμον in this line and in line 26 are squeezed together, occupying a total of 0.030 m, compared to 0.038 m for the same word in line 27. The praenomen abbreviation has two diagonals that meet at the top, so could be alpha, delta, or lambda. There is no trace of a crossbar or a horizontal bar at the bottom; I suggest lambda. The sigma of the nomen has the lower horizontal bar and parts of both diagonals. In the cognomen, the circumference of the omicron (or theta, although I find no cognomen that will fit the rest of the name) can be discerned in a damaged area. A large pit in the stone obliterated one letter and possibly part of a second: I have bracketed space for two letters, but the second is represented by a vertical stroke at the right side of the space, so could be an iota or the right vertical of mu or nu. The next letter is nu, which has the left vertical and upper part of the diagonal preserved. In the final word the first letter is a kappa: it has the upper part of the vertical, the ascending upper diagonal to the right, and perhaps the end of the descending diagonal; the next letter was obliterated. The rho has the upper part of the vertical with the beginning and end of the curved line; upper part of an iota follows, then the lower parts of the two vertical strokes of nu. The probable theta follows with much of its circumference visible; the next letter is probably an iota, but there is a partially obscuring slash across it. The circumference of a likely omicron follows, lacking the bottom curve. Line 26. Letters of the first word are very faint, especially those at the beginning. The first letter is an alpha with hasta, aligned beneath the alpha of line 25. The letter preserves parts of both diagonals: their middles are missing. Nu: preserved are the top of the left vertical and all of the right vertical with lower part of the diagonal. The delta has its left diagonal with the extreme left part of the base, as well as the upper part of the right diagonal. The vertical and curved upper part of rho are preserved; and the

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upper curved line and left tail of omega are visible. Parts of the second word with crowded letters have suffered from pits and scratches: the rho is missing the lower part of its vertical; part of the circumference of the first omicron is missing on the left; the verticals of the nu are preserved. Stone damage obliterated the abbreviation of the victor’s praenomen and has made many of the letters in the middle of this line illegible. In the nomen, the alpha has a large hasta and the upper diagonals. The omicron, which follows a bracketed space for two letters, is damaged on the outer right side by a deep vertical cut. Another bracketed space for two letters follows, then a very uncertain lambda: the visible diagonals may be part of random damage. Following the bracketed space for 6–7 letters is a letter with two diagonals converging at the top, probably alpha, since there seems to be a crossbar. The nu has the left vertical and the beginning of the diagonal; only the upper part is missing from the right vertical. In the final word, iota has both its top and bottom but lacks a middle; the lower half of omicron is preserved. Line 27. In the first word, the upper part of the iota is preserved; the delta has both diagonals and an extension at the top of the right diagonal. The second word is fully legible and occupies a width of 0.038 m, as noted in the description of line 25; the delta is tilted to the left. In the nomen, the first iota is very worn but the lower half is preserved. The nu has the diagonal, a faint right vertical, and, more faintly, the bottom and top of the left vertical; the second iota has its upper part. Most of the letters of the cognomen are clear. The lambda has the upper part of the diagonals; Ν̣Ο̣Σ̣ have the upper parts of the three letters. In the final word, the top and bottom of omicron are visible. There is room for several additional letters at the end of the line. Line 28. The first letter, mu, is very faint, but has all its elements. Omega is certain: most of the curved line can be seen on left and right, and the beginning of the tail is visible on the left side. The left vertical of nu, the beginning of the diagonal, and the top and bottom of the right vertical are preserved, though faint. I do not see the last letter of the first name, but it must be a sigma. The praenomen abbreviation and the first two letters of the nomen of the second name are visible. The mu is less certain; the two legs are faintly visible as is the upper part of the descending stroke from the right leg. The first letter in the bracketed space has a vertical leg. The ethnic is certain: the sigma has the upper bar and part of the top slanting line preserved. Line 29. The first certain letter is sigma, which is aligned below the tau of the preceding line; it is possible that the space to the left (0.05 m) was free of letters. ΣΕΒ and alpha, which has a tall hasta, are taller (0.009 m) than the letters that follow (0.006 m, except omicrons, which are 0.005 m). The next two dotted letters, Η̣ Α̣, are partially obscured by random lines ̣ ̣ .25 Following a bracketed space for and other damage, and so could be Ε̣Ι Α two letters, the omicron has the left upper and lower parts preserved. After legible tau is another omicron: part of the curved line is visible to left and right; could also be omega. The next letter has an upper vertical and a closed curved element to the right, so either a beta or rho is possible; the shape suggests that the latter is a bit more likely. Another bracketed space for a single letter is followed by a legible omicron, then a bracketed space for three letters. The next letter has a complete circumference and seems

25. As suggested to me by Ronald Stroud.

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to have a horizontal bar in the middle, so I read theta. The remainder of the line is illegible. Line 30. First alpha has a large vertical hasta and the tops of the converging slanting lines, but no crossbar. The delta has the left slanting line, upper part of the right diagonal, and a trace of the base stroke on the left. Iota is preserved with a small serif at its top; the next six letters are also legible. The next letter, with the beginning of a vertical hasta at the top and a descending diagonal on the left, must be alpha: I restore the necessary sigma as the first letter in the following bracketed space. After the brackets and before the rho, there is a faint diagonal descending to the left, perhaps part of alpha; the second alpha has the top of the letter with a hasta, the left diagonal, and the upper part of the right diagonal. Line 31. Letters of the first two words are aligned beneath those of line 30; the first two letters of the first word in lines 30–31 are worn away. Alpha: traces of a large hasta like the one in line 30 are visible followed by delta, with left diagonal, top, and upper part of right diagonal. In the second word, following legible ΑΝΔΡ is a letter with a vertical hasta, left diagonal, and upper part of the right diagonal: alpha. I restore the necessary sigma as the first letter after the bracket.

general C ommen tary Line 1. Dedications to the goddess Ἀγαθὴ Τύχη appear in Attica and elsewhere in the 4th century b.c., increase in number through the late 4th century and the Hellenistic period, and continue to occur in Roman times. The dative Ἀγαθῇ Τύχῃ appears as a heading in inscriptions, including official decrees, and the number of instances also increases from the late 4th century b.c. through the Hellenistic period, and the use of the heading extends well into Roman imperial times. The historical concurrence of the increased frequency of references to the new goddess and of the increasing use in inscriptions of ἀγαθὴ τύχη, as Tracy notes, “appears to be more than coincidental.” He suggests further that in Attic inscriptions the expression, “which is usually interpreted as some sort of loose dative of attendant circumstances, ‘with good luck,’ had at least in some cases, probably indeed in many, an element of personification in it, that is, ‘under the auspices of the Goddess of Good Fortune.’” His reasonable suggestion seems valid also for inscriptions from other parts of the Hellenistic Greek world and the Roman East. The translation “With Good Fortune” is offered here with Tracy’s suggestion understood and reflected in the capitalization. The same heading occurs at Corinth in two other lists of victors.26 26. Tracy 1994, quotes from p. 243; Parker 1996, pp. 231–232. On the relation of the cult of Agathe Tyche and that of Agathos Daimon, see Sfameni Gasparro 1997, pp. 83–86, 89–91, and the discussions of the cults based on inscribed vases (225–218 b.c.) from the Cave of the Nymph at Kafizin, Cyprus: SEG XXX 1608C and SEG LVI 1830ter. Corinthian examples, both from the 2nd century a.d., are Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 79, Face A, line 1

(a.d. 127); Corinth VIII.1, p. 22, no. 16, line 1 (a.d. 181). Closely related to Agathe Tyche is Eutychia, who is depicted in a mosaic with a victorious athlete in the South Stoa of Corinth. Robinson (2012), in a multilayered study of the mosaic, which she dates to ca. a.d. 200, identifies Eutychia as the personification of the city of Corinth. Subscript iota is sometimes omitted in the heading; Biers and Geagan restored it, Meritt did not, but probably should

have. I note that there is ample room for the same heading at the top of the smoothed face for the victors list of a.d. 3 published in Corinth VIII.1, pp. 14–18, no. 14. Meritt’s drawing of the inscription on p. 15 (no photograph was published) is misleading in that it implies that his line 1 is at the top of the prepared face. The actual space available at the top of the prepared face is 0.055 m.

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Lines 2–3. The few letters preserved in these lines permit the restoration of the dating formula in the genitive case as in the inscription on the herm of a.d. 3.27 The restoration of the specific date in the Actian Era (ζπ = 87 = a.d. 57) is based on the considerations discussed for lines 4–6. Lines 4–6. Nero’s imperial title is given in full, followed at the end of line 5 by a tau and two uncertain letters. The tau, however, can only be the beginning of the expression of the numbered consulship he was holding, that is, τὸ followed by an alphabetic numeral (in this instance Β̣) or an ordinal number. Space limitations also favor a beta, since the alternative, δεύτερον, is possible only if the word is split between lines 5 and 6. Such a split for any ordinal number is impossible, however, because the letters preserved at the beginning of line 6 do not fit into any part of the alternative expression. The name of Nero’s colleague must follow in line 6, along with the identification of the two as consuls, all in the dative case, corresponding to the dative of the emperor’s title. Fortunately, several letters are preserved in line 6, including part of the name of the colleague. I list here the years and colleagues of Nero’s consulships.28 a.d. 55, Nero Consul. L. Antistius Vetus a.d. 57, Nero Consul II. L. Calpurnius Piso a.d. 58, Nero Consul III. M. Valerius Messalla Corvinus a.d. 60, Nero Consul IV. Cossus Cornelius Lentulus a.d. 68, Nero Consul V (after dismissing the serving consuls). Ti. Catius Asconius Silius Italicus and P. Galerius Trachalus. No number would have been used for his consulship in 55 because that year was his first time to hold the office and a number was unnecessary.29 The only colleague, in any case, into whose name in Greek the preserved letters on the stone fit is L. Calpurnius Piso, consul in a.d. 57, as I have thus restored the missing letters of line 6. The date also fits the long-held assumption that the Isthmia and Caesarea (which words are clear on the inscription in line 10) were held only in odd-numbered years a.d. and that the biennial cycle of earlier times was still in use.30 The implica27. Corinth VIII.1, pp. 14–18, no. 14, Face A, lines 1–2, with the improved text in SEG XI 61, based on Peek 1933, pp. 416–417. 28. Degrassi 1952, pp. 15–16, for the first four consulships; see also p. 18 for a fifth consulship in a.d. 68, when Nero dismissed the elected consuls before the end of their terms and took their place (Suet. Ner. 43.2). Nero’s name, however, was not included for a.d. 68 in the Fasti consulares. 29. See, e.g., the expression of the consular date for the year a.d. 55 from Hippo Regius, ILS II.1 6103, lines 1–2: Nerone Claudio Caesare | Aug. Germanico L. Antistio Vetere cos. The number of consulships held after the first was regularly recorded for any magistrate,

including the emperor, as attested in numerous inscriptions in both Greek and Latin. An example in Greek from Syria is quoted in n. 32, below. For this reason, a more likely restoration of Commodus’s name in the expression of the consular date in Corinth VIII.1, pp. 22–23, no. 16, lines 2–8 (mentioned for other reasons in n. 26, above) would be one that has an even more abbreviated title than Meritt allowed (see his p. 23) in order to make room for the numbered year of his consulship: that is, τὸ γ΄ (= a.d. 181). A shortening, including abbreviations, of the emperor’s title in a consular date often occurred, though less often for the less familiar name of his colleague. Keppie (1991, p. 27) cites an example of such abbre-

viations in a consular date of a.d. 79 in a Latin inscription on a lead water pipe from Chester in Britain: Imp(eratore) Vesp(asiano) VIIII T(ito) imp(eratore) VII co(n)s(ulibus) Cn(aeo) Iulio Agricola leg(ato) Aug(usti) pr(o) pr(aetore). The inscription from Syria cited in n. 32, below, is a Greek example of shortened names of both the emperor (Caracalla) and his colleague, D. Caelius (Calvinus) Balbinus. 30. That is, we know that the Isthmia and Caesarea were celebrated together in a.d. 3, according to the specific date of Corinth VIII.1, p. 16, no. 14, Face A, as reedited in Peek 1933, pp. 416–417 (= SEG XI 61, lines 1–6).

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tions of the date of the inscription are discussed below in the General Discussion. The dative here is the Greek equivalent of the Latin ablative expression of consular dating;31 in other instances in Corinth and elsewhere the Greek genitive was also used, with or without a preposition.32 Lines 7–8. Both the heading and the name of the agonothetes, the eponymous presiding magistrate of the festival, are in the genitive, as normal in a victors list. Other officers of the contests and their titles were also in the genitive, all showing the time: “When the agonothetes was Ti. Claudius Dinippus . . . and when the hellenodikai were [lines 11–16] . . . (and) when the eisagogeus was Q. Fadius Thallus [lines 17–18] . . . (and) when the xystarches was Cn. Babbius Italicus [lines 19–20].” Ti. Claudius Dinippus, son of Publius, is a well-known figure among the Corinthian elite. On the basis of 10 other inscriptions found in Corinth, the following cursus honorum can be determined: duumvir, duumvir quinquennalis, augur, sacerdos Victoriae Britannicae, tribunus militum of the legio VI Hispanensis, praefectus fabrum three times, annonae curator, and agonothetes of the Sebastea in honor of Nero and the Isthmia and Caesarea.33 Nine of the ten inscriptions were found in the forum; one did not have its findspot recorded.34 One of these was set up by the decurio of the city,35 and the others probably by the municipal tribes, although the names of the dedicators are preserved only in two instances: members of the city tribes Atia and Aurelia.36 Dinippus’s name has been restored on the basis of a few letters on each of two other fragments of white marble slabs, but the restorations are highly speculative.37 West associated another fragment with the same series of honorific dedications on the basis of an even more speculative restoration of text (which did not include the name of Dinippus).38 West pointed out that the name of the honorand, Ti. Claudius P. f. Fab(ia) Dinippus, indicates that his citizenship antedated Emperor Claudius because his father Claudius was a citizen, and because his tribe was Fabia, “not Quirina, as it would have been had he been enfranchised by Claudius or Nero.”39 He added that the name Dinippus indicates a Greek origin and, since his father’s name, Publius, was rare among Claudii except 31. As, e.g., from Corinth in Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 79, Face A, lines 2–4, and p. 83; SEG XI 61, lines 3–4. On the Latin form, see Keppie 1991, p. 27. 32. E.g., with ἐπί, Corinth VIII.1, p. 22, no. 16, lines 2–8 (a.d. 181) and, an example closer in time (a.d. 37), the decree and oath of allegiance to Caligula, IGRR IV 251, lines 1–3 (= Smallwood 1967, p. 29, no. 33): Ἐπὶ ὑπάτων Γναίου Ἀκερρωνίου | Πρόκλου καὶ Γαίου Ποντίου Πετρω|νίου Νιγρίνου. An example without a preposition is IGRR III 1132, lines 8–9 from Zebireh, Syria (a.d. 213): ὑπ[ατε]ίας | Σεουήρου τὸ δ΄ καὶ [Β]αλβίνου β΄.

33. The inscriptions were published and the cursus discussed in Corinth VIII.2, pp. 71–76, nos. 86–90; VIII.3, pp. 74–75, nos. 158–163. See also the discussion of Dinippus and additional sources in RomPel I, pp. 288–289, no. COR 170. 34. Corinth VIII.2, p. 71, no. 86. 35. Corinth VIII.2, p. 75, no. 89. 36. Corinth VIII.2, pp. 71, 76, nos. 86, 90, respectively. Kent discusses the sources of 10 municipal tribes: Corinth VIII.3, p. 23. An eleventh tribe, Claudia, was added during the reign of Tiberius or Claudius, noted first in Wiseman 1972, p. 37, n. 90. A twelfth tribe, Ae(lia), may have been added in

the reign of Hadrian: on the 12 municipal tribes, including Ae(lia), and the likely origins of their names, see Wiseman 1979, pp. 497–498, n. 221. See Balzat and Millis 2013, pp. 662–664, with nn. 64 and 65, publishing an inscription from Corinth (I-1973-4) in which a previously unknown city tribe, Iulia, honors M. Antonius Aristocrates, who had been agonothetes of the Isthmia and Caesarea, which the authors date to after Actium, perhaps in the 20s b.c. 37. Corinth VIII.3, p. 147, nos. 393, 394. 38. Corinth VIII.2, p. 77, no. 92. 39. Corinth VIII.2, pp. 73–74; the quote is from p. 73.

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for the Claudius Pulcher family, he suggested that a Greek ancestor might have received citizenship through a member of that family. Spawforth, however, rejected West’s connection with the P. Claudius Pulcher family, and persuasively identified him as a descendant of a negotiator from among the Ti. Claudii active in the East since the 2nd century b.c., citing as examples a family known on Delos and Tiberius Klaudios Boukkion in Messene in Augustan times.40 The posts that he held indicate that he was a man of considerable wealth, who not only served in the highest municipal offices in Corinth, but also was a Roman eques who held high military and provincial appointments.41 The latter offices, three times praefectus fabrum, were held during the reign of Vespasian.42 The date of this agonothesia fits well with the normal cursus in Corinth; that is, the agonothetes seems to have been the office of highest honor in Corinth, surpassing even that of the duumvir quinquennalis.43 Ti. Claudius Dinippus was duumvir quinquennalis in a.d. 51/2 and his colleague was Ti. Claudius Anaxilaus.44 Kent45 listed him as the agonothetes of a.d. 67 on the occasion of the celebration of the three sets of games, but without discussion; as Puech noted, his assigning of a date was “une pure hypothèse.”46 Lines 9–10. Dinippus was agonothetes of the imperial games of Nero, the Isthmia, and the Caesarea. The full name of the Neronian games is given here for the first time in a Corinthian inscription. Line 11. The heading for the list of hellenodikai is in the genitive, as are all the persons named, as pointed out above in the comments on lines 7–8. The accompanying connective δέ in the heading is also normal, as seen on other victors lists from Corinth47 and elsewhere. Line 12. The cognomen Licinus is known only once in Corinth: it is used as the single name on duoviral coinage in the reign of Claudius, when Licinus was duumvir for the second time, dated by Amandry to a nonquinquennial duovirate between a.d. 42/3 and 45/6, serving with Octavius (no cognomen).48 Amandry dates his first tenure as duumvir to the reign of Tiberius or Caligula, in a year when no duoviral coins were issued. The entry in our inscription may provide the missing nomen, Claudius; if so, this Licinus might be identified with, or be a son of, the duumvir named on the coins. The dotted omicron and nu in the cognomen of Λ̣. Ἀν[τ]ω̣ν[ίο]υ̣ [. . 5. . .]ο̣ν̣[- - -] permit several restorations, including the name of L. Antonius Damonicus, father of Antonia, who, with L. Antonius, dedicated a monument in Corinth in honor of Cn. Egnatius C. f. (late 1st century b.c. or early 1st century a.d.).49 Our hellenodikes could be the homonymous 40. Spawforth 1996, pp. 173, 177– 178. 41. Emphasized in Spawforth 1996, p. 177; see Demougin 1992, p. 607; Devijver, PME I, IV, V, no. C 139, and VI, p. 158. 42. Dobson 1966, p. 74, n. 51. 43. See the discussion by Kent, Corinth VIII.3, p. 30, n. 30.

44. Amandry 1988, pp. 74, 106–107, n. 536. 45. Corinth VIII.3, p. 31. West thought his agonothesia should have been early in the reign of Nero because the cult of Victoria Britannica seems to have passed out of existence with the death of Claudius, and so suggested a.d. 55 as a possibility: Corinth VIII.2,

pp. 72–73. 46. Puech 1983, p. 18, n. 12. 47. SEG XI 61, line 8; Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 79, line 6; Corinth VIII.3, p. 95, no. 223, line 4 (restored); Spawforth 1974, pp. 297–299, no. 2, line 3. 48. Amandry 1988, pp. 72–73. 49. See RomPel I, pp. 262 (no. COR 61), 310–311 (no. COR 251).

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grandson of Damonicus, but there are other possibilities, since the nomen is common in Corinth; see the comments on M. Antonius below for line 24. Line 13. Α̣. Οὐατρόνιος Λ̣α̣βέων is probably a son or grandson of the homonymous duumvir in a year between a.d. 12/3 and 15/6.50 Kent suggested that A. Vatronius, honored in an inscription found in the South Stoa, was the son of the duumvir.51 His Roman tribe was Menenia; the cognomen is not preserved, but the extensive filiation is unusual in listing him as son of Aulus, grandson of Quintus, and great-grandson of (name not preserved). Spawforth links the Vatronii of Corinth to one of the leading families of Republican-period Praeneste, a city enlisted in the tribe Menenia; because of the tribal designation, he considers the Corinthian Vatronii to be direct descendants of the family of negotiatores rather than of their freedmen.52 The nomen of the second name, Λ̣. Αἰμιλ̣ίου [.]υ̣νικο[υ], is not common in Corinth. L. A[emi]lius L. f. [Paus]ania[s], a commilitio of Titus, has critical letters restored, and several other nomina are possible.53 L. Aemilius Rui[- - -] of the 1st century b.c., however, is certain.54 Several members of three families of Aemilii are known from Patrae, including two brothers, Lucius and Publius, sons of Lucius, who served as centurions in legio X Equestris, and were among the original colonists of Patrae.55 The younger Lucius served as duumvir in Patrae toward the end of the 1st century a.d., a fact indicating that the family was among the local elite.56 A possible cognomen is Οὔνικος.57 The space before the upsilon is wide enough only for one or two letters, but a few other cognomina are possible.58 A Greek name (e.g., Εὔνικος) also is conceivable.59 Line 14. The first name, Π. Ταδίου Ἀ̣λ̣ει[.]ι[.]α̣νοῦ̣ has the nomen of one of the earliest duovirs of Corinth, P. Tadius Chilo. Amandry dates him and his colleague, C. Iulius Nicephorus, to 43 or 42 b.c. on the basis of their bronze coinage.60 He adds that P. Tadius Chilo is otherwise unknown, but Spawforth points out that the duumvir had earlier been linked by Münzer61 with P. Tadius (no cognomen recorded), a Roman from a senatorial family who was living in Athens in 79 b.c. when C. Verres deposited with him 40,000 sesterces (Cic. Verr. 1.100).62 The same Tadius, I note, served as legate to Verres in Sicily sometime between 73 and 71 b.c. (Cic. Verr. 2.49). Q. Tadius, probably a brother or father of P. Tadius, was specifically mentioned by Cicero as being very close and related to the family 50. Amandry 1988, pp. 67–69. 51. Corinth VIII.3, p. 104, no. 250. 52. Spawforth 1996, p. 181. 53. Corinth VIII.3, pp. 54–55, no. 121; improved text, Oliver 1967; RomPel I, pp. 252–253, no. COR 21. 54. See RomPel I, p. 253, no. COR 22. 55. RomPel I, pp. 52–54, 92, nos. ACH 4–11, 199. 56. RomPel I, pp. 52–53, nos. ACH 7, 8.

57. Unicus appears among the cognomina listed by Solin and Salomies 1994, p. 415. 58. See Solin and Salomies 1994, p. 446. 59. See LGPN IIIA, s.v. Εὔνικος, where there are eight examples from Greece (nos. 1–8), three from southern Italy (nos. 9–11), and four from Sicily (nos. 12–15), ranging in date from the 5th century b.c. to the 1st century a.d.: no. 8 is from Sparta and dates to

a.d. 80–90. Several other examples from the 3rd century b.c. to the 1st century a.d. are listed in LGPN I; LGPN IV has four instances dating 5th–1st century b.c. and one in the 1st century a.d. 60. Amandry 1988, pp. 32–33. 61. RE IVA, 1932, col. 2000, s.v. Tadius 1–2 (Fr. Münzer). 62. Spawforth 1996, pp. 172– 173.

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of Verres. He, too, had financial accounts of Verres in 74 b.c., and gave highly damaging testimony regarding bribes (Cic. Verr. 1.128). Spawforth disputed the identification of P. Tadius Chilo of Corinth with P. Tadius, the Roman financial middleman, on the grounds that the latter, from a senatorial family, is unlikely to have served as a municipal magistrate with a person who was likely a freedman;63 he concluded that P. Tadius Chilo was probably also a freedman or descended from a freedman. In any case, the duumvir is a likely ancestor of the P. Tadius named on the herm. An attested cognomen that might fit is Ἀ̣λ̣ει[ξ]ια̣νοῦ,64 but that restoration would leave an abnormal space before the second alpha. Other Tadii are known in the Peloponnese. An inscription from Patrae, stone now lost, records Tadia Q(uinti) li[b(erta)] | Myrina N[- - -] | Tadian[- - -].65 A distinguished family of Tadii of Messene is also known from honorific inscriptions of the 2nd–3rd centuries a.d. in Megalopolis66 and Olympia (text unpublished).The names of the family members are M. Tadius Teimocrates (I), father of M. Tadius Spedianus, whose wife was Ti. Claudia Iulit(t)a, and their children, Tadius Teimocrates (II) and Tadius Soterichus. In the inscription from Olympia, M. Tadius Lycortas, son of Teimocrates (either I or II), was honored by Messene. In addition to performing other good deeds, Spedianus served as agonothetes of the Lycaea and Caesarea games in Megalopolis. There is, however, no indication that the Messenian family or the possible family from Patrae had ties to the Tadii in Corinth. Ti. Claudius Maximus, the second individual in line 14, occurs as the name of a hellenodikes on three other lists of victors. The earliest has a consular date of a.d. 127.67 In a second, dated by Spawforth to a.d. 131 or 135, the name is listed twice, presumably for an older and younger Maximus.68 The third instance has been dated to a.d. 137.69 The Claudius Maximus of the herm from the Gymnasium-Bath complex is a likely great-grandfather or grandfather of the judge listed in the inscription 63. In his 1996 article, Spawforth erroneously identified Chilo’s colleague as C. Heius Pamphilus on p. 173, but correctly identified him as C. Iulius Nicep(horus) on p. 179, item 15b. 64. One example of that cognomen is C. Iulius Av[itus] Alexianus: Devijver, PME I, IV, V, no. I 32, and VI, p. 108. 65. CIL III 7263. Spawforth (1996, p. 181, no. 27) considered the name doubtful; see RomPel I, pp. 98–99, nos. ACH 227–229. 66. RomPel I, pp. 123, 145–146, nos. ARC 58, 154–157 (with references), and the stemma on p. 529. 67. Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 80, lines 8–9. 68. Corinth VIII.3, pp. 95–96, no. 223, which Kent dates to a range of a.d. 131–153. See Spawforth 1974, pp. 295–297, no. 1, Face A, lines 7–8,

10–11, where he would restore [νεωτέρου] after the second occurrence of the

name. Spawforth also makes a number of different restorations in Face A and dates the inscription to 131 or 135. Spawforth and Kent both wrote under the assumption that the Isthmian contests were held only in odd-numbered years a.d., which may not have been valid in the 2nd century. The later date, in either case, is not possible if we accept the alteration of the Isthmian biennial cycle proposed by some scholars in interpreting Hadrian’s revised circuit of certain favored agonistic festivals in an inscription from Alexandreia Troas: edd. pr. Petzl and Schwertheim 2006; see SEG LVI 1359, line 70, and discussion on pp. 450–451 of proponents for a date of a.d. 135 or 136 for the Isthmia following those of 133;

in support of a.d. 136, see also Slater 2008, pp. 614, 619–620. 69. Corinth VIII.1, pp. 18–21, no. 15. See Kent in Corinth VIII.3, p. 29, n. 26, who followed Woodward (1932, p. 144) in identifying in lines 32–33 the L. Caesar, son of the Sebastos, as being Lucius (Aelius) Caesar, adopted and made Caesar by Hadrian in a.d. 136. Since Lucius died in 138, Kent noted that the date must be 137. See also Spawforth 1974, pp. 297–299, no. 2, where he published a new reading of Face A, lines 3–13, after recognizing that the inscription fragment in Corinth VIII.1, pp. 27–28, no. 18, was the missing left side of the first part of Face A of no. 15 in the same volume: Ti. Claudius Maximus is named in line 5. On L. Aelius Caesar, see the account with sources in Birley 1997, pp. 289–294.

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dated a.d. 127, who could well be the same person as the older Maximus of a.d. 131(?), and related to the younger one in that inscription as well as in the third. Line 15. Two Cornelii are listed in this line, Quintus and Publius. Both cognomina are uncertain; perhaps Αἰ[νε]ίου70 for the first, although the cognomen is not known in the Corinthia. Several praenomina are recorded on Corinthian inscriptions for Cornelii: Gnaeus, Lucius, Marcus, Publius, Tiberius, and Quintus. Q. Cornelius Secundus I and II are both mentioned in a Latin inscription by several members of the family recording their construction or (less likely) restoration of a macellum and a piscarium, and perhaps another structure: Kent dates the inscription to the reign of Augustus on the basis of letter forms.71 The family obviously had considerable wealth in order to pay for constructing both a meat market and a fish market. Publius is not a common praenomen among Cornelii in Corinth. P. Cornelius Crescens, a collector of the imperial tax on manumissions in the provinces of Achaea and Syria, dedicated a monument in honor of the emperor Trajan, ca. a.d. 114–116.72 Kent suggested in his commentary that Crescens was probably in the imperial service (as opposed to being a “chief agent for a tax-collecting company”) and based first in Corinth, where he set up the monument when he was about to leave for his new post in Syria. Line 16. The cognomen of Κ. Φάδιος ῾Ιρτια̣νός is unusual.73 He is almost certainly the father of the eisagogeus named in line 18. Κ. Φάδιος may be a new name in Corinthian inscriptions.74 Fadii are attested, however, in Rome and in several provinces during the Late Republic and the first two centuries of the Empire.75 Quintus Fadius is well known as the freedman whose daughter Fadia was the first wife of Marcus Antonius the triumvir.76 70. Solin and Salomies 1994, p. 289, s.v. Aeneas. 71. Corinth VIII.3, pp. 127–128, no. 321; see also RomPel I, p. 306, nos. COR 231, 232. 72. Corinth VIII.3, pp. 47–48, no. 100; see RomPel I, p. 301, no. COR 222. 73. Hirtianus does not appear in the list of Solin and Salomies (1994) and I have not found an example of the cognomen in my (nonexhaustive) search. The word is formed, however, in a normal manner from the frequent nomen Hirtius. Weaver (1964, p. 315) has argued that cognomina “ending in -ianus and derived from well-known senatorial nomina” occur rarely, if at all, in the 1st century a.d., though the practice became common in the 2nd century. Presumably the stricture would not be applicable if the cognomen were derived from a person of lower social rank, and was likely not rigidly adhered to in any case.

74. A poros block reused in the foundation of the late-phase (3rd century a.d.) uppermost diazoma of the Theater has an inscribed name on the exposed face. The excavator, C. K. Williams II, suggests [F]AḄIUS IU[- - -] as the likely name, commenting that the incomplete, dotted B might also be a P or R; see Williams and Zervos 1989, p. 34, no. 47 (Corinth I-1988-2). The photo published with the article (pl. 12) shows the curved line extending from the top of the letter to a point sufficiently low that a D seems to me as likely as a B, P, or R, and FAḌIUS at least a possible reading for the nomen. The cognomen could be Iucundus, which is attested as the cognomen of the grandson of Sextus Fadius Secundus Musa, first flamen (a.d. 149) of the new Temple of Augustus at Narbo and patron of the College of Builders: ILS II.2 7259 = CIL XII 4393. 75. The nomen is relatively rare, according to Taylor (1960, p. 213).

76. Cic. Phil. 2.2.3: Sed hoc idcirco commemoratum a te puto ut te infimo ordini commendares, cum omnes te recordarentur libertini generum et liberos tuos nepotes Q. Fadi, libertini hominis, fuisse; Phil. 3.6.17: Quae porro amentia est eum dicere aliquid de uxorum ignobilitate cuius pater Numitoriam Fregellanam, proditoris filiam, habuerit uxorem, ipse ex libertini filia susceperit liberos?; Phil. 13.10.23: Is autem humilitatem despicere audet cuiusquam qui ex Fadia sustulerit liberos? Cicero also refers to the relationship with Fadia late in 44 b.c. in a letter written to Atticus, to whom Cicero had sent a draft of Philippica 2 for him to critique before its publication: Att. 16.11.1: Itaque perstringam sine ulla contumelia Siccae aut Septimiae, tantum ut sciant “παῖδες παίδων” sine vallo Luciliano eum ex C. Fadi filia liberos habuisse. I thank Ann Vasaly, Boston University, for comments to me on Fadia in the Philippicae.

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Cicero’s several references to the marriage77 of Antonius and Fadia ridicule Antonius for his attacks on others because of the lower social level of their spouses. The relationship, as Cicero emphasized, meant also that Antonius’s children by Fadia were the grandchildren of a former slave. But we know nothing more of Fadia and her children (we do not know how many there were, or any of their names); they may all have been dead by 44 b.c. when Cicero wrote about them.78 There is no indication that descendants of Antonius and Fadia migrated to Corinth, although they might have done so in view of the popularity of the Antonii in Early Roman Corinth.79 Q. Fadius Gallus, whose praenomen is not disputed as was that of the first father-in-law of M. Antonius,80 is also known to students of Roman law. Cicero writes that in his youth he was present for a discussion by P. Sextilius Rufus of the large inheritance he (Rufus) had received from the wealthy Q. Fadius Gallus. Rufus claimed that he was keeping the inheritance, which Gallus had requested in writing be transferred to his own daughter, Fadia, because Gallus had been trying to circumvent the Voconian Law, which placed restrictions on inheritances by females of large assets, as in this case. Rufus also claimed that he had never agreed to pass on the inheritance to Fadia, but Cicero believed his behavior to be highly unscrupulous.81 Q. Fadius Gallus has been identified by some scholars82 with the Q. Fadius whose daughter may have been the first wife of Antonius, but the identification is unlikely because of the early date of the death of Gallus (when Cicero was a young man; Cicero was already 23 years old when Antonius was born ca. 83 b.c.). Cicero knew other Fadii,83 some of them at least from Arpinum, his birthplace,84 and other Fadii are known from nearby in this south-central region of Italy.85 The nomen also occurs occasionally in other parts of Italy86 and in the provinces. Only one, however, is known to have a direct tie to 77. Some scholars have suggested that M. Antonius might not have been married to Fadia; see, e.g., Huzar 1978, p. 25: “It is possible that Antony was not legally married to this lower-class woman, but he did acknowledge their several children as his own.” There seems to me little reason for such speculation, especially since Cicero even refers to Antonius as the “son-in-law” of Q. Fadius. I am not persuaded by the comment by Berry (2006, p. 320) that the identification as son-in-law “seems likely” not to be meant literally. 78. Huzar 1978, p. 25. 79. For a recent study of the marriage between Antonius and Fadia, and the relevant scholarship, see Rizzelli 2006. I thank Ronald Stroud for the reference. 80. Shackleton-Bailey (CLA, vol. 6, p. 299 [on Att. 16.11.1]) comments on the use of C. for the abbreviated prae-

nomen of Fadius in Cic. Att. 16.11.1 and Q. in Phil. 2.2.3 that the “copyist was doubtless at fault in one passage or the other.” The praenomen Quintus is attested for yet another Fadius from Forum Semproni: CIL XI 6131. 81. Cic. Fin. 2.55. 82. E.g., Huzar 1978, p. 25, where Q. Fadius Gallus is cited as the father of Antonius’s first wife, but there are no sources that record his (i.e., Antonius’s first father-in-law’s) cognomen. The author must have assumed incorrectly that the father was the same as the freedman discussed by Cicero in Fin. 2.55. 83. T. Fadius Gallus was quaestor in Rome in 63 b.c. when Cicero was consul: Broughton, MRR II, p. 168. M. Fadius Gallus (as most editors of Cicero identified him), an Epicurean and close friend of Cicero, should be listed as M. Fabius Gallus: PIR2 II 968;

Shackleton-Bailey, CLA, vol. 4, p. 347, on Att. 8.12.2. Cicero wrote four letters to him, probably in 46–45 b.c.: Fam. 7.23–26. 84. E.g., L. Fadius was aedile of Arpinum in 44 b.c.: Cic. Att. 15.1, 17.1, 20.4. 85. See AÉ 1978, no. 100, for a municipal decree of Interamna on the river Liris southwest of Arpinum. The decree concerns a public funeral and the dedication of a statue of Fadia, daughter of M. Fadius Crispus; both he and his sons, Lucius and Gaius, were to give eulogies at the funeral. The editio princeps dates the inscription no earlier than the second half of the 2nd century a.d. on the basis of palaeography. 86. See, e.g., two examples of T. Fadii from northern Italy in Taylor 1960, p. 213.

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Corinth. His name is M. Fadius Priscus, who served as a tribune of legio I sometime (perhaps many years) before a.d. 71 and subsequently held the post of quaestor of the province of Achaea.87 Priscus must often have been in Corinth during his tenure as quaestor of the province of which Corinth was the capital, and probably had his residence in the area. If so, and depending on the date of his actual arrival in Achaea, the hellenodikes might conceivably have been a member of the family of the quaestor. A later quaestor pro praetore of Achaea in the reign of Trajan or Hadrian, C. Iulius Eurycles Herculanus,88 was a member of the distinguished and powerful Spartan family of Eurycles,89 several earlier members of which held important offices in Corinth. Among the latter was his (probable) grandfather, C. Iulius Spartiaticus, who served as agonothetes of the Isthmia and Caesarea Sebastea and patron of the city of Corinth in the time of Nero,90 and thus was a contemporary of Fadius Hirtianus. The (probable) great-grandfather of Herculanus, C. Iulius Laco, was agonothetes of the Isthmia and Caesarea and a procurator of the emperor Claudius.91 Herculanus himself, one of the earliest Greek senators, added the name of one of Corinth’s prominent citizens, L. Vibullius Pius, to his own upon his adoption by him in his will.92 The second name in line 16 has neither the praenomen nor the first part of the nomen preserved, so that the spaces given for letters in the Greek text indicates the maximum number that might be used. The name therefore might be restored as [Γ. Ἰου]λ̣ίου Πολυαίνου̣. If the restoration is correct, he is likely the same man as C. Iulius Polyaenus, who was duumvir with C. Iulius Optatus in a.d. 57/8 or 58/9.93 The duumvir may be the same individual named by cognomen only in Corinth VIII.2, no. 180,94 and is surely the same man who served as duumvir at Sikyon about a decade later when his name and title appear on the reverse of a coin celebrating (on the obverse) Nero with the title Zeus Eleutherios, as in the famous decree of Epaminondas of Acraephia. The Sikyonian coins must have been minted soon after Nero’s proclamation of the freedom of Achaea, which 87. PIR 2 F 98; see also Groag (1939, col. 115), who suggested that his origin was probably Tarraco, where his inscribed cursus honorum was found: CIL II 4117. 88. Halfmann 1979, pp. 125–126, no. 29; Cartledge and Spawforth 2002, pp. 110–112; RomPel II, pp. 286–294, no. LAC 462. 89. There is a convenient summary of the dynasty in Cartledge and Spawforth 2002, pp. 97–105, 110–112. 90. His cursus honorum is in Corinth VIII.2, pp. 50–53, no. 68; the agonothesia is mentioned in lines 7–8 and he is identified as patron of the city in line 15. His several other offices and honors include procurator of Nero and Augusta Agrippina; being decorated with the public horse by the (later)

divine Claudius; and designated high priest for life of the Augustan family. See PIR 2 IV 587; Halfmann 1979, pp. 126–127, no. 29a; Devijver, PME I, IV, no. I 128; RomPel I, p. 338, no. COR 353; RomPel II, pp. 327–329, no. LAC 509; Eilers 2002, p. 281. See also Spawforth 1994 for a proposal regarding the significance of the creation of the office of high priest upon the accession of Nero in a.d. 54, and the relation of the event to the context and dating of Letter 198, for which he proposes a date of the second half of the 1st century a.d. See also Spawforth 1995; Puech 1983. 91. PIR 2 II 372; Halfmann 1979, p. 127, no. 29b; RomPel I, pp. 134– 135, no. ARC 105, and pp. 335–336, no. COR 345; RomPel II, pp. 296–299, no. LAC 468, with other sources.

92. L. Vibullius Pius was conagonothetes with L. Papius Venerius of the Isthmian Games: RomPel I, pp. 361– 362, no. COR 461 (L. Papius Venerius, with text), and pp. 396–397, no. COR 642. The nomen is frequent in Corinth: RomPel I, pp. 394–397, nos. 628–643. An L. Vibullius and his family in Thespiae, also of the 1st century a.d., may have been related to the Corinthians: SEG XLV 454 and 2312 for a summary of the study by Spawforth of the related Vibullii in Corinth, Thespiae, and Athens. 93. Amandry 1988, p. 24; Kent (Corinth VIII.3, p. 26, no. 40) suggested a later range, sometime between a.d. 58/9 and 66/7. 94. See the discussion in RomPel I, p. 351, no. COR 350.

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took place at Isthmia in a.d. 67/8.95 He probably was also an ancestor of a hellenodikes named in the victors list of a.d. 137: [Γ. Ἰ]ούλιος Πολύαινος, υ(ἱός).96 The dotted lambda, however, could be a delta, so that the nomen of the hellenodikes might be [Κλαύ]δ̣ιος. A Tiberius Polyaenus was a Corinthian duumvir with Sosthenes as his colleague, perhaps sometime in the late 1st or early 2nd century a.d.97 The nomen is not known, but Tiberius often occurs with Claudius (of course) at Corinth, and occurs only once with the frequent nomen Iulius: on the inscribed base of a statue of the famous mime Ti. Iulius Apolaustos, where his victories in several cities are recorded.98 A Claudius Polyaenus was a legate of Bithynia in the time of Trajan.99 Lines 17, 18. Κ. Φάδιος, Κ. υἱὸς, Θ̣ά̣λλος is almost certainly the young son of Κ. Φάδιος, the hellenodikes listed in line 16. The names of several persons who held the post at Corinth are known from inscriptions.100 Two other probable eisagogeis are known by name in Corinth, but in both instances the name of the office is restored.101 Robert adduced inscriptions from several cities to show that an eisagogeus was always a young person or even an infant, and that in two instances he served as agonothetes at the same time; other instances are now known in Corinth. More often, however, he was the son of the agonothetes or, as is likely for Fadius Thallus, of another prominent individual. He was probably selected for the post by the 95. On C. Iulius Polyaenus and his coinage in Sikyon, see Fisher 1980, pp. 6–8. On the chronology of Nero’s itinerary in Greece, see Bradley 1978. The decree of Epaminondas of Acraephia: Syll.3 814. The Greek text of the inscription recording Nero’s speech and the decree of Epaminondas has recently been republished by Kantiréa (2007, pp. 213–214, no. 5). The text of Nero’s speech was republished along with an English translation and helpful commentary in Oliver 1989, pp. 572–575, no. 296. 96. Spawforth (1974, p. 298, no. 2, line 4) suggests he was the grandfather; see RomPel I, p. 351, no. COR 351. 97. Corinth VIII.3, p. 76, no. 165. Kent comments that the lettering of the inscription dates to the period of the reigns of Nero to Hadrian. 98. Two inscriptions, Corinth VIII.3, pp. 143, 205, nos. 370, 693, were associated (the fragments do not join) by Robert (1966c, pp. 756–759), who also identified the honorand, who is not named in the preserved text; see RomPel I, p. 334, no. COR 337. A new text with the restorations of Robert and more recent (1995) restorations by W. J. Slater is SEG XLV 237, q.v. also for sources and discussion. 99. PIR 2 II 968.

100. At Corinth, C. Rutilius Fuscus was eisagogeus when his father, L. Rutilius Fuscus, was agonothetes at the celebration of the Tiberea Claudiea Caesarea Sebastea in a.d. 47 or 51: Corinth VIII.2, pp. 66–69, 70–71, nos. 82, 84; RomPel I, p. 377, nos. COR 539, 540. L. Papius L. f. Aem(ilia) Venerius was eisagogeus specifically of the agonothetes Ti. Claudius Anaxilaus, who was duumvir quinquennalis along with Ti. Claudius Dinippus in a.d. 51/2 (on Dinippus, see the Commentary on line 8, above): Corinth VIII.3, pp. 91–92, no. 212; VIII.2, pp. 79–80, no. 95. The inscription does not record the name of the games for which Anaxilaus was agonothetes, but Papius was subsequently pyrophoros at the Isthmian Games, another post normally held by children, and later was conagonothetes with L. Vibullius Pius: for discussion and sources, see RomPel I, pp. 361–362, no. COR 461, where the authors note that the cognomen Venereus, proposed by Kent (see above), does not appear in Solin and Salomies 1994, p. 419, and after autopsy of the stone read the cognomen as printed here. P. Puticius Rufus, son of Publius, was eisagogeus for M. Pụ[- - -], agonothetes of the Caesarea Neronea: Corinth VIII.3, pp. 90–91, nos. 208, 209; the agono-

thetes may have been an uncle or older brother (or some more distant relative) of the eisagogeus. For further discussion, see RomPel I, p. 373, no. COR 522, where the editors erroneously date the inscriptions to the reign of Tiberius; the name of the imperial games indicate that the related offices were held during the reign of Nero. Kent (Corinth VIII.3, p. 31) suggests a.d. 59 for the date of the games in the agonothesia of M. Pụ[- - -]. 101. A. Arri[us] Proc[ulus], tribe Aemilia, is the likely eisagogeus of the Tiberea Caesarea Sebastea: Corinth VIII.3, pp. 30, 73–74, no. 156 (he was also agonothetes of the Isthmia and Caesarea, according to Kent, in a.d. 39); RomPel I, pp. 268–269, no. COR 87. See Spawforth 1996, p. 176, for a discussion of the family. In a second instance, C. Curtius Benignus Iuventianus was probably eisagogeus for unnamed games in the late 1st or early 2nd century a.d. to two conagonothetai, Ṭ i .̣ C[l(audius) Att]icus (who may be the father of Herodes Atticus, according to the author) and another man of whose name only part of the cognomen is preserved, [- - -]reiticus: Bugh 1979. There are additional Corinthian inscriptions that refer to unnamed eisagogeis.

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agonothetes. Robert also proposed that the eisagogeus at festivals arranged the sequence of participants in parades and solemn processions.102 Whether or not an eisagogeus served the agonothetes only of an imperial contest, as has been assumed by several scholars because of the absence of other sets of contests named in the small number of relevant inscriptions,103 is not certain. There is no indication that Fadius Thallus, in any case, was the assistant only at the Neronea, and that he played no role in the Isthmia and Caesarea. Ti. Claudius Dinippus was expressly the agonothetes of the Neronea and the Isthmia and Caesarea: we might expect his eisagogeus to serve also in all the games. Θάλλος or Θαλλίων was the cognomen of a victor, Κλώδιος Θαλλ[- - -], in the apobatikon of the Caesarea of a.d. 127.104 The occurrence of Αὐρ(ήλιος) Θάλλος is without restoration in a list of ephebes inscribed in the first half of the 3rd century noted near the village of Filia in Arkadia.105 Line 19. This is the first occurrence of a xystarches in a Corinthian inscription. The title is known only from Roman imperial times, and was awarded by an emperor to an extraordinary (παράδοξος) victor in athletic contests, frequently an ἱερονίκης (victor at a sacred set of contests) or a περιοδονίκης (victor at one of the games of the periodos, the most prestigious of the sacred agonistic festivals); the appointment was normally for life (διὰ βίου).106 The person so honored was also a member of an empire-wide athletic association (= synodos or guild). His duties included supervising an athletic contest, or all the athletic contests, of a city or an entire region. He would also have been in charge of seeing to it that athletes adhered to the regulations of the contests.107 He received pay for his duties at a festival from multiple sources, including musical performers (for an unknown 102. Robert 1929; 1966c, pp. 738– 739. See the discussion by West in Corinth VIII.2, pp. 67–68, where he cites examples from cities originally adduced by Robert, but without mentioning Robert. See also Kent’s comments in Corinth VIII.3, p. 30, n. 32, where he writes of the new texts (his nos. 155, 208–210) as confirming West’s conclusions. 103. See, e.g., Geagan 1968, p. 74. 104. Biers and Geagan 1970, pp. 82 (line 93), 88. 105. See RomPel I, pp. 120–121, no. ARC 50, with references. The Greek name occurs frequently in inscriptions; there are many examples in LGPN, IGRR, and other Greek corpora. 106. In simple terms, sacred or stephanitic games are those at which the winner received a victory wreath; they are to be distinguished from thematic or chrematitic or talantiaioi games, at which money (χρήματα) was awarded as prizes. The reality is rather more complex, since value prizes were awarded in some sacred games even in

Greek times. That practice became common in Hellenistic and especially in Roman times, when cash prizes and cash allotments (as pensions) were awarded. The periodos originally meant mainly the four great panhellenic games—the Olympian and Pythian, held every four years, and the Isthmian and Nemean, held every two years— but a number of others were often cited, especially in Greek literature. The principal additional games added to the periodos in imperial times were the Aktia at Nikopolis, the Sebasta of Naples, and the Capitolia in Rome, but others of importance included imitations of the original four Greek panhellenic festivals, and certain imperial games, especially those founded by Hadrian. On the history and differences of these games, and especially the complications of terms, see Pleket 1975, 1998; van Nijf 1999; Miller 2004, pp. 129–149. On the meaning and use of the word παράδοξος (“étonnant . . . , champion”), see Robert [1940] 1971, pp. 250–252; 1966b, p. 82, n. 3. Strasser

(2003, p. 265) translates the word by the French “extraordinaire.” A variant term is παραδοξονίκης: SEG LI 1413. On cash prizes, pensions, and other awards to athletes and performers in Roman imperial times, see now and especially SEG LVI 1359, lines 1–56, which is the text of Letter I of three letters from Hadrian inscribed on a single large marble plaque excavated recently in Alexandreia Troas. This important inscription is cited in n. 68, above, and its significance is considered further in the General Discussion. 107. The xystarches, in the words of Robert, was “un athlète nommé à vie par l’empereur pour veiller à la discipline des athlètes dans un concours ou dans tous les concours d’une ville ou d’une région.” The quote is from Robert (1966b, p. 82), in his discussion of a young boxer who had been xystarches for life of all athletic contests in Lycia. On the high status of a xystarches, see also Herz 1997, pp. 258– 259. On the duties of the xystarches, see also Caldelli 1992, p. 79.

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time before late a.d. 134), from the athletes who competed under his supervision, from agonothetai, and from the city where the contests were held.108 The post was one of high honor both in the empire-wide athletic association and for the cities associated with the xystarches, especially since the office was a gift of the emperor, and during the contests at which he served he wore a garland and a purple robe.109 Athletes who had many victories, especially in sacred games, might be honored with several xystarchiai in different cities, as well as citizenship, magistracies, and other honors in multiple municipalities. Perhaps the most phenomenal was M. Aurelius Demostratus Damas of Sardis, a pankratiast and boxer of the 2nd century a.d., who won victories, most of them multiple times, at Olympia, Delphi, Isthmia (where he won as pankratiast on five occasions), Nemea, Argos, the Capitolia in Rome, the Sebasta of Naples, the Aktia of Nikopolis, all the major games at Athens, and contests in eight other cities. He held 13 xystarchiai and was awarded citizenship in eight cities in addition to his own.110 Line 20. Γν. Βάββιος ᾿Ιτ̣αλικός, the xystarches, is known from one other Corinthian inscription, a fragmented thin marble slab that belonged to the Southeast Building in the Forum.111 In that inscription the praenomen of Italicus is restored, but his father’s abbreviated praenomen is recorded as Cn. and his tribe, Aem(ilia), is the tribe of the colony. Italicus almost certainly was the son or possibly grandson of Cn. Babbius Philinus, whose name appears in inscriptions on a circular aedicula and on the Fountain of Poseidon, both of which he built in Late Augustan times at the west end of the 108. See SEG LVI 1359, lines 34– 39. In this section of Letter I of three letters of Hadrian in a.d. 134, musical performers are no longer to be required to pay one-hundredth (that is, 1%) of the festival stipend to the xystarchai, but the athletes are to continue to do so because they share in the same profession as the xystarchai and compete under their direction. (We do not know when the musical artists began paying a fee to xystarchai.) Hadrian then states that it is “right” (ἄξιον) that either the cities that organize the festival or the agonothetes should make up the deficit in the amount paid to the xystarchai. He then directs the Koinon of Asia to determine from what sources revenue in the future should come to make up the deficit caused by the withdrawal of the musical artists from paying 1% of the stipend of the xystarchai. The explicit reference to the Koinon of Asia indicates that Hadrian’s decision, though empire-wide in its consequences, was in response to a specific instance laid before him by the association of Dionysiac artists and by the international guild of athletes. Two examples of the

continuation of the Hadrianic practice at least to the a.d. 180s are known in schedules of prizes and other expenses incurred in anonymous agonistic festivals at Aphrodisias: Roueché 1993, pp. 171–173, no. 52, III, col. iii, lines 18–19, and no. 52, IV, col. iii, lines 8–9. In both instances an expense is recorded ξυστάρχῃ εἰς ἀναπλήρωσιν (“for completing [or ‘making up’] the payment to the xystarch”). The object of the preposition here is derived from the verb ἀναπληρόω (q.v., LSJ9), as is the verb in the letter of Hadrian just cited (προσαναπληροῦν, line 38) describing the act of “making up” the deficit in the payment to the xystarches. Roueché took the expression at Aphrodisias to mean “for the xystarch, as reimbursement,” which now seems unlikely. 109. At least in the 4th century a.d., but his costume was likely a traditional one of some antiquity, as in a quote from the emperor Julian (Amm. Marc. 21.1.4): Quinquennalia Augustus iam edidit: et ambitioso diademate utebatur, lapidum fulgore distincto, cum inter exordia principatus, assumpta vili corona

circumdatus erat xystarchae similis purpurato. The distinctive attire of the xystarches mentioned here may be post-Hadrianic: see SEG LVI 1359, lines 38–39. In that passage, Hadrian seems to contrast xystarchai with τοὺς ἀγωνοθέτας τούς τε στεφάνους καὶ τὴν πορφύραν ἔχοντας (“the agonothetai

who wear the crowns and purple [robes]”) when he identifies the agonothetai as options to cities for making up the deficit in paying the xystarchai; see the preceding note. 110. See the study of all the inscriptions concerning him and a detailed discussion of his career: Strasser 2003. 111. Corinth VIII.3, pp. 132–133, no. 327: [Cn.] Ḅabbiuṣ Cn. f. Aeṃ. [I]taḷịc̣[us] OB [- - -] AE [- - -] ẸṆV [- - -] [A]ug̣uṣ[t- - -] ỊỊ vi[ris- - -] O AN[- - -] Ọ pṛ[aescr]ịpta. Kent points out that the inscription is in 10 fragments and the sequential relationship of the letters after the cognomen of Babbius is conjectural. It should be noted, however, that any shuffling by scholars of the other fragments will not affect the identity of Babbius Italicus.

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Forum.112 His cursus honorum is known from the inscription on the epistyle frieze of the circular aedicula, repeated in part on a revetment fragment of an orthostate block of the same building: he served as aedile, pontifex, and duumvir, all of which he must have held during the reign of Augustus.113 The nomen Babbius was restored in one inscription which preserved the cognomen Philinus.114 The name also was fully restored in the inscription on the epistyle-frieze block of the Southeast Building, and West suggested that he might be the donor of the structure.115 After another small fragment with three letters of the inscription was found in the building, Broneer suggested that the building might have been constructed as a library or the city tabularium, which he proposed as a restoration in the inscription on the epistyle. The restoration of the name of Philinus by West was considered strengthened by the discovery in the same building of the inscription mentioning Babbius Italicus, the likely son of Babbius Philinus, who may have contributed to a subsequent building phase, and with a possible reference to its contents in the word [scr]ịpta (Broneer) or pr[aescr]ịpta (Kent).116 Weinberg cited the bipartite plan of the building as well as the inscriptions to suggest that the building likely served both as the city library and its tabularium.117 White in a recent article relates allusions to statues and monuments in the Korinthiakos speech by the philosopher Favorinus in Corinth ca. a.d. 128–131/2 both to features of the Southeast Building and to monuments at the west end of the Forum, especially the Fountain of Poseidon and the circular monument, both of which resulted from the munificence of Babbius Philinus. He argues convincingly from the allusions and the topography that Favorinus spoke to the Corinthians while standing in or near the portico of the Southeast Building, which Favorinus called τὰ βιβλία (the library), where he said a statue of him had been set up εἰς προεδρίαν (“in a front seat,” but here meaning “in” or “in front of the portico”) and later taken down unjustly by the Corinthians. His analysis has thus strengthened the argument that Babbius Philinus and his son Italicus built and remodeled, respectively, the Southeast Building.118 Cn. Babbius, with the Greek cognomen Philinus, was probably a freedman, since he has no filiation listed in any of the inscriptions in which he is named.119 112. The inscriptions are Corinth VIII.2, pp. 5–6, nos. 2, 3 (each a base for a dolphin), and pp. 107–108, nos. 131, 132 (epistyle-frieze blocks from the fountain and the aedicula, respectively); Corinth VIII.3, pp. 73, 102, nos. 155 (aedicula orthostate block), 241; see RomPel I, pp. 273–274, no. COR 111. See the important restudy of these structures by Williams (1989), which includes a new restoration of the fountain and convincing evidence that the two monuments date archaeologically to Late Augustan times; the restored drawing of the fountain (his fig. 5) includes the two bases with dolphins, which Scranton had recognized went together: Corinth I.3, pl. 15:1. Robinson has shown in her Ph.D. dissertation (2001, p. 254, n. 38)

that the preserved dolphin had a rider, perhaps Palaimon or a Nereid. For further discussion of the dolphin with rider (Palaimon) and the fountain, with additional references, see Gebhard 2005, pp. 186–190. On the absence in Corinth of a statue of Arion riding a dolphin, see White 2005, pp. 91–92. 113. Kent dates the year of his duovirate to between a.d. 7/8 and 12/3: Corinth VIII.3, p. 25. 114. Corinth VIII.3, p. 102, no. 241. 115. Corinth VIII.2, p. 96, no. 122. 116. Broneer 1947, p. 237, and Broneer in Corinth I.5, p. 27; see the discussions and restorations by Kent in Corinth VIII.3, pp. 129–130, no. 323, and pp. 132–133, no. 327. Paul Scotton, whose new study of the Julian Basilica will be published as a Corinth volume,

informs me (2015) that he accepts Broneer’s epigraphical restoration and identification of the Southeast Building (the subject of a second monograph by Scotton). His study demonstrates that the Julian Basilica and the Southeast Building adjoined, and, in fact, shared twin corridors. 117. Corinth I.5, p. 11. 118. White 2005. 119. A point made first by West (Corinth VIII.2, p. 108). Spawforth (1996, p. 169) suggested he might have been one of the original freedman colonists who achieved “both wealth and political and social success” by late middle age, as manifested by his offices and the public buildings he donated to the city.

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Not all the Corinthian inscriptions naming a Babbius have a cognomen preserved, including some with part or all of the praenomen Gnaeus restored, and some are later in date than the first half of the 1st century a.d.120 West commented that the name Babbius is rare,121 and most commentators since have had occasion to note its relative rarity. Robert identified several victors from elite families of Corinthians, including Λ. Βάββιος Ὀρ[- - -], in a list of victors of the 2nd century a.d. in the Erotidaea of Thespiae.122 He commented also on other Babbii in Delphi: Βάββιος Μάγνος and Βάββιος Μάξιμος of the early 2nd century a.d. and Βάββιος Αὐρ. Φιλισ[τίων] in the time of Constantine.123 Spawforth added much important detail from the sources in his comments on the Babbii, pointing out that Βάββιος Μάξιμος is the son of Γν. Βάββιος Μάγνος; that both had served as Delphic archons in about a.d. 105 and after a.d. 120, respectively; and that the wife of Magnus was Pacuvia Fortunata. Based on the rarity in Greece of both the names Babbius and Pacuvius and on the fact that both are known in elite circles in Corinth, as well as the other known close ties between Delphi and Corinth, Spawforth considers the family at Delphi to be descendants of Babbius Philinus of Corinth. The likelihood that he is correct is high. He also notes that the Babbii later included a person of senatorial rank, Gellia Babbia, and a probable relative, Aurelius Nicobulus.124 Another female bearing the same gentilic name in Corinth was brought to my attention by Ronald Stroud, codirector with Nancy Bookidis of excavations of the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore in Corinth. Καρπίμη Βαβ(β)ία, a “weaver of garlands, στεφανέπλοκος,” is cursed by name for her “acts of hubris” in two of the lead tablets from the Demeter sanctuary and is possibly the unnamed target of the curse in a third. Stroud has speculated that “she might have been a familiar figure at the Sanctuary . . . particularly on festival days, selling her wares outside the entrance.” He has also suggested that “it is possible that Karpime Babbia was a former slave, manumitted by her master/mistress,” a member of the distinguished Babbius family of Corinth. The stratified archaeological context of the lead tablets is the 2nd century a.d., or possibly earlier.125 According to Kajava and Solin, Babbius is an old Oscan gentilic name that appears first at Aeclanum, and then, with no great frequency, in central Italy; in Rome; and, still rarely, in the provinces.126 Their extensive list of sources for the Babbii arises from their study of a funeral stele of Aeclanum bearing the names of slaves and freedmen, including Babbia Vitalis. 120. No cognomen or praenomen: Corinth VIII.3, p. 106, no. 259, perhaps 2nd century a.d. (= RomPel I, p. 273, no. COR 107). Praenomen but no cognomen: Corinth VIII.2, pp. 82–83, nos. 98–100, and the list of names on 10 marble fragments in Corinth VIII.3, pp. 141–142, no. 364A (= RomPel I, p. 273, no. COR 109). Corinth VIII.3, p. 147, no. 391 (= RomPel I, p. 275, no. COR 112) records a [Ba]ḅbiu[s] Pi ụ [s] of the late 1st or 2nd century a.d. He belonged to the Quirina tribe, which

was the tribe of the colonists of Patrae, where Babbia Postuma, daughter of Gnaeus, was a resident at about the same time: RomPel I, p. 62, no. ACH 51. Yet another Babbia, the wife of M. Publicius, is known from Corinth in the 2nd century a.d.: Corinth VIII.3, p. 81, no. 176. 121. Corinth VIII.2, p. 108. 122. Robert 1946, p. 9; he was a victor both in the stade and pentathlon in the youth category. On the date, see SEG III 334.

123. Robert 1946, p. 9, n. 5, with sources. 124. Spawforth 1996, p. 169, with sources. 125. I am grateful to Ronald Stroud for very kindly sharing with me his notes on Babbia; see now Corinth XVIII.6. pp. 99–115, nos. 123–126, figs. 78–82 (quotes from p. 109). 126. Kajava and Solin 1997, pp. 347–348, with sources and many of the names in nn. 24–27.

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Line 23. One might have expected Νεικήσαντες instead of Νεικῶντες, if a participle was to be written.127 Line 24. The name of the event and the category are uncertain; see the next section, “A Conjecture Regarding Lines 24–28.” Μ. Αντώνι̣ος [. . .]τ̣ιος, a Corinthian, is probably one of the many descendants of a freedman of M. Antonius the triumvir.128 The only cognomen among the Antonii known from published inscriptions from the Corinthia that fits the lacuna is Τέρτιος, a hellenodikes of the Caesarea in a.d. 127.129 That individual is much too late for identification with our victor and there is no reason to suppose that a direct ancestor bore the same unexceptional cognomen. There are many possibilities among Latin cognomina that would fit the space.130 Line 25. Λ̣. ᾿Ιούλιος̣ Ο̣[. .]ρ[. .]ν̣ιος is probably another Corinthian. Possible cognomina include Ursenius or Ursinius: either might be written Ο[ὐ]ρ[σ(ε)ί]νιος, though a wide spacing would be required with the first bracket. The event that might be expected to be listed first of the gymnastic events is the dolichos, the long race, because it occurs first at sites of other great agonistic festivals and has been assumed to occur first at the Isthmia (see the discussion in n. 137). The first series of events in the new inscription, however, is expressed in an unusual manner in lines 24–27: the accusative of the word δρόμος is certain in lines 25–27 and likely in line 24. Although δρόμος, apart from its generic use as “route” or “road,” was occasionally used to designate an athletic event in Hellenistic131 and Roman imperial times,132 the use here at the site of one of the most prestigious festivals of the ancient periodos seems particularly anomalous. It will be useful to consider briefly the several other ways the word is used. The word δρόμος commonly referred to a race,133 its kind not necessarily specified, but sometimes was combined into one word with a specific type of race or runner,134 or modified by an adjective specifying the 127. As in Corinth VIII.1, p. 28, no. 19, line 1 (of Tiberian date). In the same volume, the past participle is restored (but certain), on p. 26, no. 17, Face A, line 8. Still in the same volume, on p. 19, no. 15, Face A, line 15, [οἱ νεικῶ]ν̣τες could have been restored instead of [οἱ νεικήσα]ν̣τες. Another restored (but probable) example of the past participle is in the complete list of a.d. 127: Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 80, Face A, line 14. The present participle is used in an honorific inscription from the Rhodian Peraea, Syll.3 1067, lines 2–3: νικῶντα στάδιον | παῖδας τρὶς Ἴσθμια; the editor dates the inscription to the late 2nd century b.c. on the basis of letter forms. 128. Strasser (2001–2002, p. 292, n. 135) comments: “les M. Antonii sont légion dans la colonie romaine.” The name might also be taken by distinguished and wealthy Greeks, not freedmen, who received Roman citizenship through the favor of the triumvir, as Balzat and Millis (2013) proposed for a

M. Antonius Aristocrates whom they date to the late 1st century b.c. 129. Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 80, lines 12–13. 130. See Solin and Salomies 1994, pp. 450–451. 131. E.g., Trallian men victors, 4th– 3rd century b.c., Syll.3 1060, lines 1–2: οἵδε ἐνί[κ]ων τῶν ἀνδρῶν | δρόμ(ο̣)ν. Trallian boy (νέοι) victors, 2nd–1st century b.c., Syll.3 1062, line 3: δρόμῳ, as a heading on the line by itself; the victor is named in line 4. 132. Two examples from the 3rd century a.d. follow. A list of victories of Aurelius Septimius Eutychos, Laodicea, a.d. 221, IGRR III 1012, where he lists victories in talantiaioi, “money games,” in the δρόμον at Leucas, Chalcis, Iconium, and Patrae, lines 19, 21, and 22. Most of his victories both in sacred games and talantiaioi were in boxing, which is the likely event meant by δρόμον in this inscription. The second example is more fragmentary, IGRR IV

1521 from Sardis, where Agathias dedicated “the torches” in celebration of a victory (or victories?) in the [- - -] | δρόμον, lines 7–8, which must have been a torch race. 133. See Crowther 1993, building on the series of meanings for δρόμος in Bell 1990. 134. E.g., διαυλοδρόμος, δολιχαδρόμος, σταδιαδρόμος: several examples from Aphrodisias in lists of prizes for athletes and performers in the late 2nd century a.d. are in Roueché 1993, p. 169, no. 52, I, col. ii, line 9; p. 170, III, col. ii, lines 2, 4, 12; and p. 172, IV, col. i, lines 10–13; col. ii, lines 3, 8, 10–11; col. iii, line 2 (ὁπλειτοδρόμῳ). Another series of examples is provided by dipinti on the back wall of the xystos (here = “covered running track”) for boys at Delphi: see Queyrel 2001, esp. pp. 367–372; SEG LI 613–631. The dipinti begin in the 1st or 2nd century a.d. and most of them were dated by letter forms to the 2nd and 3rd centuries a.d.

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event,135 or understood in the grammatical construction of an event.136 It might refer to a racecourse, and thus sometimes it is the equivalent for a specific footrace, e.g., the stadion.137 It might even refer to other types of contests, e.g., boxing, as in δρόμος πλαγᾶν.138 Crowther has discussed its use also to refer to a lane or the course or path in an equestrian event, as well as its nuanced use to refer to procedures of a race, details of the course, or even the distance traveled.139 The word is also used in an honorific inscription from Patrae to refer to a contest for maidens.140 Νικαγόραν Νικόφιλος νικήσασαν δρόμῳ τὸν τῶν παρθένων δρόμον τῇδ’ ἀνέθηκα λίθου Παρίου τὴν γλυκυτάτην ἀδελφήν.

On this spot I, Nikophilos, dedicated (this statue or column) of Parian marble (of ) my dearest sister Nikagora, who won in racing the maidens’ race.141 The text is known from a notation in the margin of a manuscript of Pausanias142 probably in the 9th century by a humanist named Arethas, 135. E.g., λαμπαδοῦχος δρόμος, λαμπαδικὸς δρόμος, “torch race.” See

Sterrett 1901, p. 419, in his list of terms for the torch race, with sources. 136. See the excellent discussion with examples and sources in Strasser 2001–2002, pp. 287–296. 137. In addition to Crowther 1993, see also SEG LII 155 for a discussion of the proposal by Siewert (1999) that the inscriptions on the boundary stones of the Kerameikos included the understood word δρόμος, so the inscriptions should be read as ὅρος Kεραμεiκο(ῦ) (δρόμου). That is, they were actually boundary stones of the broad avenue running from the Academy into the Agora, which served as an area for athletic and equestrian contests in the Panathenaia and other festivals. See Tracy and Habicht 1991, p. 198, for the Panathenaic Way as the δρόμος, the racecourse for the equestrian polemisteria (for citizens only) that took place there during the Panathenaia during the first half of the 2nd century b.c. The racecourse for gymnastic competitions was the length of a stadion, so that δρόμος as a designation for the racecourse might also serve as a synonym for the stadion event; see Miller 2004, p. 244. By extension we might take ὁ μακρὸς δρόμος to be the δόλιχος, the “long race” (12 stades), and usually the first gymnastic event listed, as is likely in the following three Hellenistic inscriptions. The first is a decree of the Koinon of the Torch-Race Runners and

Those Who Shared the Oil (i.e., for anointing in the gymnasium) of Patmos, ca. 200 b.c., Syll.3 1068, line 8: [τ]ὸν μακρὸν δρόμον in which Hegesandros was victor. In Syll.3 1072: Θάλεια honored her son, victor in τὸν μακρὸν δρόμον (line 4) at the Panathenaia in the 1st century b.c. The editor of both inscriptions, Hiller von Gaertringen, took the expression to refer to a victory in the “long” as opposed to a “short” race run by the Torch-Race Runners, presumably in the first inscription because Hegesandros had been a lampadarches; in the second inscription he merely refers to his previous note (Syll.3 1068, 1072, vol. III, pp. 223, 226). But in the first inscription Hegesandros is celebrated in the same clause as having been gymanasiarchos seven times, and a lampadarches, and victorious in “the long race.” Nothing in the syntax requires a conceptual connection with the torch race any more than with his having been a gymnasiarchos seven times. The expression also occurs in the Gymnasiarchal Law at Veroia, where it clearly refers to a distinct contest: Gauthier and Hatzopoulos 1993, pp. 23–24, lines 84–86: καθιστάτω δὲ ὁ γυμνασίαρχος βραβευτὰς, οἳ ἂν αὑτῷ | δοκῶσιν ἐπιτήδειοι εἶναι, ἔν τε τῇ λαμπάδι τῶν Ἑρμαίων καὶ τῷ μακρῷ δρόμῳ καὶ ἐν | τοῖς λοιποῖς ἀγῶσιν (“The gymnasiarch

shall install as judges of the contests those who seem to him to be qualified, for the torch race of the Hermaia, and

for the long race, and for the rest of the contests”). The inscription is also available with English translation and a brief commentary: NGSL, pp. 249–268, no. 14. 138. Pind. Isthm. 5.60; see also n. 132, above, for a likely epigraphical example. 139. Crowther 1993. See Bell 1990, p. 7, on its use as the “pace” of a race. 140. Rizakis 1998, pp. 259–261, no. 267. See also Moretti 1953, p. 168, within his discussion of no. 63 (pp. 165– 169), the inscription from Delphi honoring the three daughters of Hermesianax who won victories in contests at several major festivals, including the Isthmia; on this latter inscription, see n. 218, below. 141. The translation was suggested by my colleague at Boston University, Jeffrey Henderson, to whom I am grateful for a discussion of this text, especially the double use of the word δρόμος, which he noted was emphasis by pleonasm. Rizakis (1998, p. 260) found the repetition of δρόμῳ, δρόμον awkward, and suggested that the expression τὸν τῶν παρθένων δρόμον had been added by Arethas (on whom, see below) as a kind of explication of the first δρόμῳ. I think it is preferable to keep the text as recorded since we cannot turn again to the stone itself; pleonasm seems a sufficient explanation. 142. Codex Parisinus 1410, folio 142r on Paus. 5.16.2, in his discussion of the Heraia contests for women at Olympia.

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who wrote that he saw the inscription on a column capital that he found in the ruins of ancient buildings of Patrae, his native city; it is now lost.143 The inscription offers no details on the actual nature of the contest. What is more, the festival at which Nikagora won τὸν τῶν παρθένων δρόμον is not named, and there is some debate as to whether the victory was at an important local festival, or in some other location, perhaps Olympia, where the agonistic festival of the Heraia was celebrated by women.144 But identifying the contest as a “race for maidens” is not the same as naming the kind of race it was: perhaps it was different or special because it was a race for maidens. We also have evidence that there were contests for young women at the Isthmia (see n. 218). This brief review supports our view of the unusual nature of the repeated use of δρόμος for the name of one of the gymnastic events in a prestigious international festival, especially of the sacred periodos. The word is more frequent as a generic term; or as a word used in combination with another, either written separately or as a single word; or as a word that derives a specific meaning from its context. A suggestion for the events in lines 24–28 is offered below in “A Conjecture Regarding Lines 24–28.” Line 26. The victor’s name might be Γ(αίος) Ἀ̣ρ(ρ)[ού]ν[τι]ο[ς] [.]λ̣[- - - - - - -]α̣ν̣ὸς, υἱό[ς]. Arruntius Moschus is named as agonothetes on a fragmentary inscription honoring an unnamed individual who had been pyrophoros of the Caesarea and Isthmia in imperial times.145 The use of υἱός here was to identify the victor as the son of an homonymous father, in a similar manner to the way νεώτερος was often used.146 Line 27. The victor of the contest for boys(?), Π(ούβλιος) Καν[ε]ί̣ν̣ι̣ος Κορνηλ̣ιαν̣ὸ̣ς̣ Κο̣[ρίνθιος], was likely a member of one of Corinth’s elite families, that of P. Caninius Agrippa, procurator of the province of Achaea under Augustus,147 who also served as duumvir quinquennalis in a.d. 21/2 with L. Castricius Regulus.148 His father, Alexiades, may have been a freeborn Greek with personal ties to Agrippa who received citizenship through a senator named Caninius, perhaps L. Caninius Gallus, consul with Agrippa in 37 b.c.149 Another member of the Corinthian family was L. Caninius Agrippa, duumvir in a.d. 68/9, who was the last to sign duoviral coinage, as he did, without a colleague, under Galba.150 Rizakis, Zoumbaki, and Kantiréa take the duumvir of a.d. 68/9 to be the son or brother of the duumvir quinquennalis of a.d. 21/2.151 The time span 143. Another proposal is that the copyist was M. Souliardos, another native of Patrae who visited the city in 1491: Rizakis 1998, p. 259, n. 1. 144. See the discussion in Dillon 2000, pp. 463–464; Dillon favors Patrae. The possibility that it was celebrated elsewhere, e.g., in Olympia, is discussed by Mantas (1995, p. 132). Rizakis (1998, p. 260) comments on the scant evidence to support either view. 145. Corinth VIII.3, p. 93, no. 214. See RomPel I, p. 269, no. COR 88, where the individual is taken to be the (restored) eisagogeus. 146. On νεώτερος, see an example in

Corinth VIII.3, p. 95, no. 223, Face A, line 9, and his translation (“Jr.?”) on p. 96; cf. Spawforth 1974, pp. 295–297, no. 1, line 11. On this use of υἱός, see Biers and Geagan 1970, pp. 83–84, with parallels and other sources; Oliver 1970. See also Spawforth 1974, p. 298, no. 2, line 4, where the word is used with a hellenodikes of a.d. 137; Spawforth comments on the word’s intended sense to distinguish the individual “from a well-known and homonymous father.” 147. Or during the reign of Claudius: Demougin 1988, p. 649, n. 239; 1992, pp. 406–407, no. 494.

148. On the coinage they issued and the date, see Groag 1939, cols. 140– 141; Amandry 1988, pp. 57–59; RPC I, nos. 1149, 1150. 149. See the discussion of the family and other sources in Spawforth 1996, pp. 176–177; and RomPel I, pp. 66–67 (nos. ACH 64, 65), 279–281 (no. COR 133–139). Stansbury (1990, pp. 219– 220) suggests L. Caninius Gallus or one of his family as the sponsor of his Roman citizenship. 150. Amandry 1988, pp. 75–76; RPC I, nos. 1210–1222. 151. RomPel I, p. 279, no. COR 134.

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(46 years) between the municipal magistracies held by these two men, however, suggests to me that the duumvir of 68/9 was more likely a grandson of P. Caninius Agrippa. In either case, the young victor named on the herm is likely a relative of the distinguished Caninii, perhaps the son of L. and therefore grandson or great-grandson of P. Caninius Agrippa, from whom his praenomen was derived.152 The last word in the line is probably to be restored as the ethnic, Κο̣[ρίνθιος], as at least in lines 24, 25, and 28; there is no room for an ethnic in line 26. Line 28. Octavianus may refer to a nomen or cognomen,153 but neither is found on other Corinthian inscriptions. Since the name is preceded by a mu, which must serve as the abbreviated praenomen, the name is likely a nomen; a cognomen is lacking. Possibilities for the second nomen that are known from Corinth are Πομ̣[πήιος- - -]154 or Πομ̣[πώνιος- -].155 All the known Pompeii of Corinth have Gnaeus as a praenomen and date to the 2nd or 3rd century a.d. Marcus, however, occurs among the Pompeii of the 2nd century a.d. in Tegea and in Argos.156 There are still other possibilities for the nomen,157 and in the end we must recognize that both names in this line could be cognomina. The ethnic, Κορίνθιος̣, must go with the last name since it is singular; it may also have been intended to be understood after the preceding name. There is a possibility that the names in this line represent the nomenclature of a single adopted individual, M. Octavianus (cognomen omitted) M. Pom[- - -] (cognomen omitted). The sequence is known in many instances of adoption, where the tria nomina of the adoptive parent are followed by the original tria nomina.158 An example of the same sequence is provided by the long name borne by T. Prifernius Paetus, who was adopted by A. Pomponius Augurinus (see n. 155). There are many instances of the epigraphical use of just two names (or even one in late antiquity) of the tria nomina, depending on the formality of the inscription.159 Even in other lists of victors for contests in Corinth and Isthmia, the praenomen was often dropped.160 152. Other Caninii are known in the early and the late 2nd century a.d., including Κανείνιος Σο[- - -], who was a victor in the second category of the apobatikon of the Caesarea in a.d. 127: Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 82, line 89. A. Birley speculated that Caninius Celer, the Greek secretary of Hadrian, may have been from Corinth: Birley 1997, p. 292, n. 28. On the family of M. Caninius Rufus of the late 2nd century a.d., see Corinth VIII.3, p. 114, no. 281; RomPel I, p. 280, nos. COR 136, 137. 153. See Solin and Salomies 1994, pp. 130 (nomen), 371 (cognomen). 154. See Spawforth 1974, pp. 297– 299, no. 2, line 12, for a hellenodikes of the Isthmia and Caesarea in a.d. 137, and from the same inscription, Corinth

VIII.1, pp. 18–21, no. 15, line 48, an Argive victor in the four-horse chariot race (= RomPel I, pp. 366–367, nos. COR 484 and 485, respectively; on the latter, see also pp. 217–218, nos. ARG 207, 208 for father and son in a distinguished athletic family of Argos). Γναῖος Πονπήιος Ζώσιμος, a citizen both of Corinth and Thespiae, was the victorious herald at the festival of the Muses in a.d. 160: SEG III 334, lines 12–14. A 3rd-century Pompeius is known from Kenchreai: RomPel I, p. 367, no. COR 486, with sources. 155. Aulus Pomponius C. f. Quir(ina) Augurinus T. Prifernius Paetus, who capped a distinguished military career with appointment by Trajan to serve as procurator of Achaea sometime between a.d. 102 and 114: Corinth

VIII.3, pp. 62–63, no. 134; see RomPel I, pp. 220–221 (no. ARG 213), 367 (no. COR 487). 156. RomPel I, pp. 141–142, nos. ARC 137, 138 (from Tegea; Hadrianic); p. 217, no. ARG 206 (Argos; 1st–2nd century a.d.). 157. See the nomina beginning in Pom[- - -] that are listed in Solin and Salomies 1994, p. 146. 158. See Salomies 1992, pp. 32–37, for examples of the sequence. 159. Abbreviated nomenclature is discussed in Salomies 1992, pp. 57–60, and esp. pp. 69–75. 160. Corinth VIII.1, p. 20, no. 15, Face B, lines 39, 41, and 45; Biers and Geagan 1970, pp. 80–82, Face A, lines 22, 26, 43; Face B, lines 54, 68, 78, 84, 87, 89, 91, and 93.

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The name or names might be associated with line 27 to indicate victors in different age groups of boys, although such divisions have usually been named as separate contests (e.g., κρίσις α΄, κρίσις β΄, etc.) in inscriptions. For an example of four classes of competitors for one event, see the victors list of a.d. 127 from Corinth, where the event is the ἀποβατικόν, and which is listed immediately after the torch race.161 Beginning at least in the 3rd century b.c. the classes that were the same as the age groups of boys at different periodos festivals were given names that identified the origins of the age groups: e.g., παῖδες Ἰσθμικοί and παῖδες Πυθικοί.162 Line 29. Σεβαστῆ̣̣α̣ may be part of the name of another special event, or some kind of introductory comment on the events that follow, perhaps as part of the Sebastea festival. Lines 30–31. The events here return to canonical terms for events, but instead of listing the event followed by category as customary, and as seems to be found in the first four events (lines 24–27), the order is reversed. There is probably no significance to be attached to the reversal of order here, since it occurs elsewhere, also without any evident reason for the change.163 The dolichos is not listed at all in the preserved text of the inscription, but may have been listed in the missing portion of the program. The men’s stadion here is listed immediately after the boy’s stadion. We may suppose that the youth’s stadion was listed next, if it was listed at all. Again there may be no significance to the seemingly exceptional sequence, or there may be some hint of a reason in the ensuing, missing lines.

A Con ject u re R eg a rdin g L in e s 2 4– 2 8 I offer here a conjecture regarding a possible interpretation of lines 24–28 of the inscription. The events made uncertain by the repeated word dromos in lines 24–27 may include a torch race. This event might have been either three torch races for boys, youths, and men in lines 24–26, or races for two or three classes (defined by age groups) of boys in lines 27–28: either or both seem possible. It is also possible that the expected dolichos might be intended by one set of events or the other. The speculation discussed here is prompted first by the certainty that the ἱερὰν λαμπάδα is the first event listed under the heading for gymnastic events in the Caesarea victors list of a.d. 127, the best-preserved and most complete list of victors found either in Corinth or Isthmia.164 There the 161. Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 82, Face B, lines 85–93, with commentary, p. 88. 162. Crowther 1988; Frisch 1988, p. 179; Petermandl 1997, p. 136, nn. 6–7. 163. See, e.g., the 2nd-century list of victors in the Erotidaea of Thespiae, Robert 1946, pp. 5–6 (an improved reading of SEG III 335), where the sequence changes not only by categorical groups of events, but even within a single group. For the latter, contrast the dolichos events of lines 2 and 4 (event

followed by the category in the genitive) with that of line 6 (category followed by the event: ἀνδρῶν δόλιχον), and for the former, contrast the group for the stadion, lines 7–10 (category in the genitive followed by the event), with that of pygmen, lines 18, 22, 25, and 29 (in each, event followed by category, e.g., line 29, πυγμὴν ἀνδρῶν). At Larissa, in games of the late 1st century b.c. commemorating a battle in the pass at Tempe, the listing is even more casual. The list of victors, SEG LIII 550, in line 17 has στάδιον παίδων

followed by the victor, but in line 19, the next event is named only ἀνδρῶν with στάδιον understood as the preceding word. The arrangement is confirmed in the next two lines where the δίαυλος is named first, but in line 21 only the category ἀνδρῶν is recorded (the lacuna following each word is irrelevant to the point made here). 164. Biers and Geagan 1970, pp. 81– 82 (Face B, lines 83–84), 88. The lampas is the most frequent of the many names used in antiquity to mean “torch race”: Sterrett 1901, pp. 418–419.

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race was listed with a single victor and so had no categories, although such categories were standard in other parts of the Graeco-Roman world.165 The lampas then was followed by the apobatikon in four classes, the dolichos, with two categories (both restored), and the remaining gymnastic events.166 It is conceivable that a torch race might also have been mentioned in the poorly preserved lines that follow the list of hellenodikai on the herm of a.d. 3, the second-best preserved victors list in this group. In that inscription the succeeding events were the dolichos (restored with one category; others presumed in the preceding poorly preserved lines), followed by other gymnastic events.167 The torch race is not mentioned in the preserved lines of the eight other published victors lists from the Isthmia or from Corinth, but they are fragmentary, containing portions of different groups of contests or names of officials.168 A torch race in Roman times is not specifically mentioned in other inscriptions at Corinth or the Isthmia, although pyrophoroi, “torch bearers,” are known from inscriptions as officials of the Isthmian Games. Holders of the office seem to have been mainly children.169 The precise function of the pyrophoroi is not known, but their title suggests that they may have had something to do with torch races.170 There is literary evidence for a torch race in the 5th century b.c. at the Hellotia, a festival in Corinth honoring Athena Hellotis and the heroine, Hellotis, a daughter of Timandros, in legend the last pre-Dorian king of Corinth.171 Unfortunately, there is no evidence for the continuation of the cult or the festival in the Roman colony. There is, however, substantial evidence, both literary and archaeological, that many of the deities worshipped in Corinth before 146 b.c. were also worshipped in the Roman imperial period, and a number of the sanctuaries of Corinth were refurbished as cult sites. We cannot, however, be sure that the rituals were the same, or that all the cult places involved the same deities or heroes as before.172 Archaeological evidence for torch races in Corinth and the Isthmian sanctuary is diverse in form and exists both for the Greek and Roman periods. There is evidence from Corinthian vase painting of the 5th and 4th centuries b.c. of torch races that probably are local, but the deities with whose festivals the race was associated vary or are 165. E.g., in the Gymnasiarchal Law at Veroia in Macedonia, the gymnasiarch is charged with holding a torch race for boys and another for youths in the festival of the Hermaia: Gauthier and Hatzopoulos 1993, p. 22, Face B, lines 59–60, where there is also mention of weapons as prizes. The two races are mentioned again as relay races for three teams each of boys and youths selected by the individuals assigned to train them (and perhaps be runners with their teams), lampadarchai: Face B, lines 71–84, dealing with the selection of the lampadarchai, the relay teams, and related matters. See also NGSL, pp. 249–254, no. 14. 166. Biers and Geagan 1970,

pp. 82–83, 88–90, Faces B–C, lines 85–136. 167. Corinth VIII.1, pp. 14–18, no. 14, with improved reading for Face A in SEG XI 61, lines 25–28 (poorly preserved, few restorations), line 29 (a tied event of youths is largely restored), line 30 (lists the dolichos, largely restored, for men as the next event). 168. The published victors lists from the Corinthia are listed in n. 187, below. 169. See RomPel I, pp. 269 (no. COR 88; official unnamed), 361– 362 (no. COR 461; L. Papius Venerius, second half of the 1st century a.d.). 170. See Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 93.

171. Sources are Pind. Ol. 13.40; the Scholia on Pind. Ol. 13.56 in Drachmann [1903] 1969, pp. 367– 369; Etym. Magn., s.v. Ἑλλωτίς; Ath. 15.678b. The torch race at the Classical and Hellenistic Hellotia may have been run in the racecourse whose starting platforms and parts of the running track are preserved below the Roman forum in Corinth, as suggested long ago: see Broneer 1942, pp. 145–149; mentioned as a possibility by Williams (Williams and Russell 1981, p. 14, n. 20); see also n. 7, above. 172. On these matters, see Bookidis 2003, pp. 255–258.

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unknown.173 I venture to suggest that at least some of the scenes might have represented a torch race of the Isthmian festival, whether in honor of Poseidon or Melikertes, or both.174 Roman Imperial coins of Corinth often depict an athlete running or walking while bearing a race torch and a palm branch. Several such coins place the torch-bearing athlete in a scene with Melikertes-Palaimon and a dolphin.175 Other archaeological evidence includes marble torches recovered in excavations both in Corinth and at the Isthmian sanctuary. From Corinth, fragments of possibly three torches were found in the Gymnasium-Bath complex, perhaps fallen or tossed from the Gymnasium plateau.176 At Isthmia, Broneer excavated a marble torch in a mixed deposit within the Later Stadium, and a fragment of a second torch was discovered within the Palaimonion.177 It should not surprise us that a torch race was part of the Caesarea in a.d. 127, or that torch races might have been part of the programs of other agonistic festivals at Corinth and the Isthmian sanctuary. Torch races, after all, are attested in the Greek world from as early as the Archaic period and continued into Roman times.178 They were important in military training of youths, so that they were part of city festivals wherever the ephebeia existed. Kennell calls the torch race in Athens “the quintessential ephebic activity,” and points out that it is the only attested ephebic activity down to 335 b.c.179 The aim of a torch race was to bring uncontaminated fire by a torch from a sacred source, that is, an altar, to light a sacrificial fire on an altar at another location. The race would have been based on the notion that the sooner the fire was brought to light the sacrificial fire, the better, because there was thus less opportunity for contamination.180 The sacred nature of the race has been emphasized by many scholars, whether the race honored a deity or a hero, and is reflected in one of the many terms used to denote 173. Herbert has discussed some of the vase paintings in Corinth VII.4, pp. 34–35, 40, 44–45, 68–69, n. 12, nos. 21, 35, 59, 161. On these and other vase paintings, with a broader, critical discussion of the evidence for the Hellotia and for the likely association of Dionysos and Artemis with Corinthian torch races, see Herbert 1986. Sanders 2010 deals also with the Hellotia and associates Artemis with the festival in Corinth as well as with worship at the Sacred Spring. 174. On the cult and ritual associated with Melikertes before 146 b.c., see Gebhard 2005, pp. 174–178. 175. In the lists of coins of Corinth in appendix II of Papageorgiadou-Bani 2004, under Augustus, p. 104: Obv. Athlete, a palm branch on the shoulder, Rev. Race torch; see RPC I, no. 1135. On p. 108, coins with Domitian on the obverse, Rev. Athlete running or walking and holding torch and palm branch; see RPC II, nos. 157–159 (running) and no. 126 (walking). On p. 112, coins

with Marcus Aurelius on the obverse, a reverse has Melikertes lying on a dolphin with a tree behind and on left, an athlete holding a palm branch and race torch; see SNGCop, no. 327. On p. 114, coins with Commodus on the obverse, a reverse has Melikertes on a dolphin, and in front, an athlete holding a palm branch and race torch; see SNGCop, no. 351. On p. 118, coins with Septimius Severus on the obverse, a reverse has the same scene noted above under Marcus Aurelius; see Mac Isaac 1987, p. 108, no. 77. 176. Corinth S-1970-6, S-1970-19 and S-1971-24; P.H. 0.079, 0.077, and 0.095 m, respectively. All three were excavated in deposits of the 6th century a.d. above the northwest and southeast courtyard and the southeast part of the swimming pool. I thank Mary Sturgeon for her comments on these possible torch fragments. 177. Broneer 1962a, p. 19, no. 3. Mary Sturgeon republished this torch and published the one from

the Palaimonion: Isthmia IV, pp. 153– 154, nos. 122, 123, respectively. See also Sturgeon, Chapter 10 in this volume. 178. The torch race at the Panathenaia in Athens may have been a part of the original program of the festival in 566 b.c.: Kyle 2007, p. 165. The race was known even earlier in connection with the Prometheia in Athens: Deubner 1932, p. 211. 179. See Kennell 1999, p. 253, n. 31, for inscriptions of ephebes in torch races at three other cities. See also Xen. Poroi 4.52; Parker 1996, pp. 253–255. On the effects of the reforms of Epikrates in Athens in 335 b.c., see also Sekunda 1990. 180. Deubner 1932, p. 211: “Je schneller man dies an seinen Bestimmungsort brachte, desto mehr behielt es von seiner Heiligkeit: daher der Lauf.” See Jüthner 1968, pp. 142–143. It was critical, obviously, that the torch not be extinguished before the end of the race: see Paus. 1.30.2.

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the race, ἱερὰ λαμπάς.181 The importance of speed in what might be a long race from one altar to another is reflected in the participation of relay teams in torch-race competitions rather than individuals, as the preponderance of evidence both in inscriptions and literature indicates.182 We should note also that such a race from one altar to another need not be restricted to a formal race track, as it certainly did not at the Eumenea festival at Delphi, or in the Panathenaia in Athens, or in several other instances.183 This is not the place for a lengthy essay on torch races in ancient Greece, but a particularly relevant issue here is who the relay teams might represent in Corinth and the Isthmia. Biers and Geagan commented that “the precise arrangement at Isthmia must remain a problem, since the teams cannot have been based upon local tribes.”184 But if the torch races were restricted to citizens of Corinth, the runners probably did represent tribes (phylai) or some other municipal corporation, as is usual in Attica and elsewhere.185 Several instances, however, are known of relay teams that represented other organizations or groups,186 and it is reasonable to suppose that there were regulations for torch races that were peculiar to specific festivals and/or places. Although we in the early 21st century find the use of δρόμος in the inscription imprecise and therefore cannot be sure of what kind of event 181. Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 91, with several sources and discussions cited in nn. 36–38; Gauthier and Hatzopoulos 1993, p. 109; Jüthner 1968, pp. 136–137. 182. The commentary in Biers and Geagan 1970, pp. 91–93, includes examples of scholars and interpretations on both sides of the issue. An example referring explicitly to the use of relay teams, and to a victor of one team that represents the entire phyle is Schol. Patm. on Dem. 57.43: ἔφηβοι ἀλειψάμενοι παρὰ τοῦ γυμνασιάρχου, κατὰ διαδοχὴν τρέχοντες ἥπτοντες τὸν βωμόν· καὶ ὁ πρῶτος ἅπσας ἐνίκα, καὶ ἡ τούτου φυλή. In this passage the first

member of the relay team to reach the altar is the victor, and so is his tribe. The Eumeneian Law from Delphi has a context that is equally explicit. In Syll.3 671, A, lines 10–11, the lampadistai are listed as 10 from each tribe; in lines 15–16, the text of which is given in the following note, the victor, who seems to be the runner of the last leg of the relay, is to have the honor of lighting the sacrificial fire with his torch. 183. In Delphi the race would have begun (at an altar) in the gymnasium, located near the Sanctuary of Athena Pronaia, and ended at the altar of Apollo in front of his temple, a considerable distance and all uphill: Syll.3 671, A, lines 15–16: ὁ δ[ὲ] δρόμος γινέσθω

ἐκ τοῦ γυμνασίου ἄκρι ποτὶ τὸν βω|μόν, ὁ δὲ νικέων ὑφαπτέτω τὰ ἱερά. The race

at the Panathenaia began at the altar of Eros in the Academy, a gymnasium northwest of the city, and ended at the altar of Athena Polias on the Acropolis (the deity of the altar is not explicitly named in ancient sources): Plut. Sol. 1.4 for the altar of Eros; Miller 2004, pp. 141–142. Jüthner (1968, pp. 142, 149) also places the end of the torch race at the altar of Athena on the Acropolis and notes that the distance covered by the relay teams was some 2400 m, or about 14 Olympic stades. Kyle (1992, p. 96) places the end of the race at an altar “at the foot of the Akropolis.” Petrakos (1999, vol. 1, p. 295) hypothesizes that the latest-attested torch race run at Rhamnous in 176/5 b.c. began at the altar in the Sanctuary of Nemesis and ended at the altar of Zeus Soter in the fort, or the reverse. 184. Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 93. 185. See Gauthier and Hatzopoulos 1993, p. 117, where the authors comment that the runners of the lampas were ordinarily grouped by civic subdivisions, tribes, or chiliastyes, at Athens, Delos, Delphi, Rhodes, Erythrae, and others, with several sources cited in n. 1. 186. See, e.g., an example in Attica, Petrakos 1999, vol. 2, p. 119, no. 148. The inscription records a dedication

by Elpias, the strategos at Rhamnous, in 117/6 b.c. that lists three victors from among soldiers in the fort during that year who competed in festivals in Athens: Xenokrates from the Athenian citizens, who won a torch race in the Diogeneia; Polemarchos from the (mercenary) soldiers, also victor in a torch race at the Diogeneia; and Demetrios of Antioch from the foreigners (ἐκ τῶν ξένων) in the Ptolemaia. Moretti (1953, p. 147) cites inscriptions from Delos that name victors from Alexandria, Kyrene, and Naxos in lampadedromiae of different festivals. According to the Gymnasiarchal Law at Veroia, the gymnasiarch was to select the boys and youths for the torch races of the Hermaia from among those who frequent (ἐκ τῶν φοιτώντων) the gymnasium, choosing those whom he considered suitable: Gauthier and Hatzopoulos 1993, p. 23, lines 82–84. In their commentary, the authors argue that “those who frequented” the gymnasium included freeborn foreigners who lived in the city (p. 87), and that those who seemed suitable (qualified by physique, health, and ability) might be among those selected for the Hermaia torchrace teams. Those races thus might be viewed not as part of a civic festival, but rather a festival of the gymnasium (p. 118).

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was contested, we should not assume the same ignorance or uncertainty on the part of readers of the inscription in the time of Nero. They are likely to have known precisely what events were first in the gymnastic contests and identified merely as δρόμοι. We might also keep in mind that the few inscriptions with even partially preserved texts of gymnastic events of international festivals at Isthmia and Corinth provide scant evidence for us to determine the “canonical” epigraphical sequence of those events.

Gen eraL Di s Cu s s ion Of the published lists of victors in the Isthmia, Caesarea, and/or Sebastea in the Corinthia, of which the herm studied here is the eleventh,187 only two are in large part complete and only five include the names of the agonistic festivals concerned. Nine of the 11 inscriptions were found in Corinth, of which four came from the Gymnasium area, as noted earlier (see n. 23); the remaining two were found at Isthmia.188 There are at Isthmia an additional 61 fragments, most of them small, belonging to 11 other lists of victors that were being prepared for publication by Daniel Geagan at the time of his death in 2009: 10 on three-sided marble stelae known as kyrbeis and one on marble wall revetment. An interesting chronological observation has resulted 187. The 11 inscriptions are listed here in chronological order, along with their original publication and most significant other sources of emendations and/or date. (1) Corinth VIII.1, pp. 14– 18, no. 14 (I-751), with improved reading in Peek 1933, pp. 416–417 (= SEG XI 61) for Face A; largely complete, headless herm; Isthmia and Caesarea. Date: Actian and consular year, secure date, a.d. 3. (2) Corinth VIII.1, pp. 28– 29, no. 19 (I-379); part of a herm including only some literary contests; Caesarea. Date: after deification of Livia (a.d. 42) in reign of Claudius; Geagan 2005, p. 146. (3) Corinth I-1970-39, published here; upper portion of a marble herm; Neronian Sebastea, Isthmia, and Caesarea. Date: by consular year, secure date, a.d. 57. (4) Biers and Geagan 1970 (I-2740); almost complete triangular stele; only the Caesarea is listed, but contests include thymelic, equestrian, and gymnastic events. We might wonder if the name Isthmia was originally intended to be listed but was omitted or should be understood. Strasser 2006, pp. 303– 304 on lines 58–63 (= SEG LVI 397, and on διὰ πάντων, = SEG LVI 2152). Date: consular year, secure date, a.d. 127. (5) Corinth VIII.3, pp. 95–96, no. 223 (I-1393); triangular stele pre-

serving names of some officials on Face A, several gymnastic events and victors on Face B; Robert 1966c, pp. 748–749; Spawforth 1974, pp. 295– 296, no. 1, improved reading of Face A. Date: Kent, Corinth VIII.3, p. 95, mid2nd century a.d.; Spawforth, p. 296, a.d. 131 or 135 on basis of restored letters for consular dating; Petzl and Schwertheim (2006, commentary on line 70 of the Hadrianic inscription from Alexandreia Troas) and Slater (2008, p. 619) place the Isthmia in a.d. 136, not in 135, but other scholars date the festival to a.d. 135 (see SEG LVI 1359, comments by Pleket on pp. 450–451). (6) Corinth VIII.1, pp. 18–21, no. 15 (I-750), with improved reading of Face C from Peek 1933, p. 417 (= SEG XI 62). Spawforth (1974, pp. 297–299, no. 2) published join of no. 15 with Corinth VIII.1, pp. 27–28, no. 18 (I-813 + 832). See also RomPel I, p. 252, no. COR 19. Fragmentary triangular stele with poorly preserved names of officials and victors in Isthmian contests. Date: Woodward 1932, p. 144, “little, if at all, later than the end of Hadrian’s reign” ( July 138); a.d. 137 by Kent, Corinth VIII.3, p. 29, n. 26, based on identification of L. Caesar as L. Aelius Caesar, adopted son of Hadrian, by Woodward;

Spawforth 1974, p. 297, follows Kent. (7) Corinth VIII.3, p. 98, no. 228 (I-1170), with Robert 1966c, pp. 749– 750; triangular stele with a few lines on each face, including some gymnastic events on Faces A and B. Date: latter part of 2nd century a.d.; Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 90, n. 31. (8) Corinth VIII.1, pp. 21–23, no. 16 (I-49, I-549), with comments by Peek 1933, p. 416; partial triangular stele in two fragments. Date: by consular year, secure date, a.d. 181. (9) Broneer 1959, p. 324, no. 4 (Isthmia IΣ 358); triangular stele, parts of Faces B and C preserved, with some equestrian and gymnastic events. Date: Roman imperial times. (10) Corinth VIII.1, pp. 25–27, no. 17, four inscribed fragments (I-167, I-192, I-198, I-829) of a triangular stele; not dated. (11) Corinth VIII.1, p. 29, no. 20 (I-771), small fragment, possibly from a list of victors; not dated. 188. The two largely complete victors lists are nos. 1 and 4 in the preceding note. The names of the relevant festivals are preserved for victors lists nos. 1–4 and 6 and are identified in the previous note. The four inscriptions from the Gymnasium area are nos. 1, 3, 6, 7; the additional five inscriptions from elsewhere in Corinth are nos. 2, 4, 8, 10, 11. The two from Isthmia are nos. 5 and 9.

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from Geagan’s 2005 study: the earliest (1st century a.d.) lists of victors so far known are on herms; beginning in the late 1st or early 2nd century a.d. all others known are recorded on kyrbeis.189 Although three is a small number, it is perhaps no coincidence that all three of the 1st-century a.d. victors lists, all of them herms, are from Corinth, postulated in recent years as the location of the Isthmian, Caesarea, and Sebastea festivals during the first half of that century. Two of the herms are from the Gymnasium area. The inscription published here contains the first certain date for the holding under a single agonothetes, the eponymous presiding magistrate, of the three major agonistic festivals of the Corinthia: the Sebastea (this particular festival in honor of Nero), the Isthmia, and the Caesarea. The date of the inscription, a.d. 57, is not one that fits the “Greater Isthmia” cycle as proposed by earlier scholars, and so has implications for our understanding of the term “Greater Isthmia,” a completely modern invention, and for the periodic cycles both of the Caesarea and the Sebastea. A brief review of the basis for dating these games follows. The traditional date of the founding of the Isthmian Games was 582 b.c., and the games were scheduled to be held thereafter in the spring every two years until they were interrupted in the middle of the 2nd century b.c.190 The games were transferred to the control of Sikyon after the Mummian sack of Corinth in 146 b.c. and the city’s consequent loss of civic status. We have no evidence for the specific dates of the games during the period of Sikyonian control, but the festival may have been on the same biennial cycle as before. At least, when the games were returned to Corinthian control soon after the founding of the Roman colony in 44 b.c.,191 the games were celebrated in even-numbered years as before, because the count backwards from a.d. 3, when the Isthmia and Caesarea were celebrated according to the list of victors for that year,192 yields even-numbered years b.c. and, of course, the count forward yields odd-numbered years a.d.193 The Caesarea were established at Corinth, as they were in many cities, in celebration of Octavian’s victory at the Battle of Actium, September 2, 31 b.c. In the Corinthia they were celebrated in conjunction with the Isthmian Games, but were thought to be on a four-year cycle, in accord with the comments of Suetonius, instead of being celebrated every two years as the Isthmian Games were.194 West argued that the Caesarea in Corinth were celebrated for the first time at the Isthmian Games of 30 b.c. for three reasons: (1) it was appropriate to celebrate the new games at the earliest celebration of the Isthmian Games after the victory at Actium, and 30 b.c. was both an Isthmian year and in the first year of the Actian 189. Geagan 2005, esp. p. 146. Matthew Trundle of Victoria University, Wellington, New Zealand, has now undertaken responsibility for editing and bringing to publication Geagan’s manuscript on the Roman-period inscriptions from the Isthmia. The 11 lists of victors will include IΣ 358, published in preliminary fashion by Broneer (1959, p. 324, no. 4), which is already included in the number of published lists cited in Biers and Geagan 1970, p. 90, n. 31, and is cited in my list in n. 187, above, as

no. 4). Trundle informs me that Geagan had identified three other fragments from the same victor stele as IΣ 358. 190. Mosshammer 1982, p. 22, n. 14; Gebhard 1992; see also Corinth VIII.3, p. 28, n. 23. 191. On the historical matters and archaeological evidence for the Romanperiod events mentioned here, see p. 193, above. 192. The inscription is Corinth VIII.1, pp. 14–18, no. 14, Face A, lines 1–6, with improved reading in SEG

XI 61. 193. That is, in converting years in the Julian calendar to modern calendrical reckoning, there is no year zero: a.d. 1 follows 1 b.c.; see Bickerman 1980, pp. 90–91. 194. Suet. Aug. 59: provinciarum pleraeque super templa et aras ludos quoque quinquennales paene oppidatim constituerunt. For other citations from ancient literature and relevant inscriptions, see Corinth VIII.2, pp. 64–65; Robert 1966a.

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era; (2) the celebration of both the Isthmia and Caesarea in a.d. 3 (see n. 2) presents “no chronological difficulties” because the festival came 32 years later, a figure that is appropriate for either a biennial or quadrennial festival; and (3) “the name Caesarea can best be explained by the hypothesis that the festival was established before Octavian took the name Augustus.”195 The arguments seemed reasonable and sound at the time. Kent, following West, considered the combined festival as a “Greater Isthmia,” celebrated every fourth year beginning in 30 b.c., and a “Lesser Isthmia” consisting of the Isthmia alone, beginning in 28 b.c. and alternating with the “Greater Isthmia.”196 The Caesarea continued to be held until at least some time in the 2nd century a.d.197 Both the Lesser and the Greater Isthmian festivals were celebrated at first in Corinth and not the Isthmian sanctuary. As discussed in the opening paragraph of this chapter, the Isthmian sanctuary was not renovated and so apparently would not have accommodated the contests of any of the Isthmian/Corinthian festivals until about the middle of the 1st century a.d. The great games, then, would have been held in Corinth during the first century of the colony. A somewhat earlier date for the return of the Isthmian Games to Isthmia has been proposed by Kajava, who associates the move with the Isthmian agonothesia of Cn. Cornelius Pulcher, which Kajava dates to a.d. 43.198 Another agonistic festival, which was named after the reigning emperor, was later added to the “Greater Isthmia,” according to both West and Kent.199 Kent noted that the earliest of the Corinthian series of “Imperial Contests,” as he called them, was in the reign of Tiberius, for which he adduced two inscriptions as evidence. One of those inscriptions, however, has been restudied and redated to the reign of Claudius.200 Agonistic festivals named after subsequent emperors at least through the reign of Trajan, or possibly Marcus Aurelius, followed.201 Geagan thought that the practice 195. Corinth VIII.2, p. 65. 196. Corinth VIII.3, p. 28, n. 24. 197. The latest attestation, according to Kent, is an inscription on a statue base honoring Λ. Βείβιος, whose many victories included two as a boy singer in consecutive Caesarea, as well as a victory in διὰ πάντων (best of all contestants in the music and thymelic competitions) ἐν Κορίνθῳ, which Kent dated to the 3rd century a.d. on the basis of letter forms: Corinth VIII.3, pp. 110–111, no. 272. Robert (1966c, p. 752) dated the inscription to the 1st or early 2nd century a.d. Gebhard (1993b, pp. 86–89, with n. 35) argues that the Caesarea continued to be held in Corinth until at least the 2nd century a.d. On διὰ πάντων, see Robert and Robert 1968, pp. 462–463, no. 254, and now esp. Strasser 2006. 198. Kajava 2002b, pp. 171–172. This important article is discussed further below in this section.

199. The principal discussion is by Kent, with references to the scattered comments of West (in Corinth VIII.2): see Corinth VIII.3, pp. 28–30, with n. 25, which gives the names of the imperial contests known at that time. 200. Corinth VIII.3, pp. 28–29, n. 25. The evidence for imperial contests in the reign of Tiberius is on pp. 70–74, nos. 153, 156: they were designated Tiberea Caesarea Sebastea in the former (lines 4–5) and Tiberea Augustea Caesarea (lines 6–7) in the latter. Gebhard reassigned inscription no. 153 to the reign of Claudius because it refers in line 7 to the three sets of games as being held “ad Isthmum.” Games were impossible at the Isthmian sanctuary in the time of Tiberius because, as Gebhard showed, the sanctuary had not yet been repaired sufficiently to host them. Such early contests would have been held at Corinth itself. Her emendation, which

makes lines 4–5 read Tib|[ereon Claudi]eon Sebasteon, has earned scholarly acceptance; see Gebhard 1993b, pp. 87–88, with n. 44, and below, p. 238. 201. See Corinth VIII.1, p. 58, no. 77, which Meritt dated to the time of Trajan in the early 2nd century, making heavy use of a restored title. Kent considered the restoration faulty on multiple grounds and proposed a different restoration for one word, [Ἀρμενι]ακήων instead of [Δ]ακήων: Corinth VIII.3, p. 19, n. 6. Meritt had based his restoration of that word on IG IV 795, which Kent wrote “contained an obvious misspelling” of the offending word, which should have been Δακικήων, and which in any case would not correspond to the visible letters in no. 77. On the basis of his own restoration, Kent assigned the inscription to the reign of Marcus Aurelius.

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of naming contests at Corinth after emperors did not continue beyond the reign of Trajan, and suggested that the reason might have been Hadrian’s foundation of the Panhellenia, which resulted in Athens’s becoming the center of Hellenic religious life instead of Corinth.202 Geagan may be correct, but it is also possible that the lack of later inscriptional evidence will be reversed by future discoveries. Corinth, after all, continued to be a major city during the 2nd and 3rd centuries, and the Isthmian and Caesarean festivals continued to attract international participation. What is more, imperial contests continued to be established in other cities of the Greek mainland and in the Greek East. Such designations as Σεβαστά, Σεβάστεια, and Αὐγούστεια203 were sometimes added to previous titles (e.g., to the Romaia in the Greek East), and the name of the reigning emperor, as in the Sebastea in the Corinthia, was given to games newly founded in a number of cities.204 Hadrian in particular was active in their creation: 21 cities of the Greek East celebrated agonistic festivals bearing a form of Hadrian’s name in their titles.205 According to Mitchell, the latest of the imperial contests founded in Asia Minor was the Tacitea, named for the emperor Tacitus (a.d. 275–276), in Perge of Pamphylia.206 The year a.d. 57, however, is not a year in which a “Greater Isthmia” should have been celebrated, according to the calculations of West and Kent. Counting in four-year increments from a.d. 3, when we know that the Isthmia and Caesarea were celebrated together, we arrive at 55, 59, 63, and 67 for dates during the reign of Nero for the “Greater Isthmia.” Explanatory options are few and are presented below. Option 1. The Caesarea festival was never penteteric in the Corinthia, but instead was on the same trieteric schedule as the Isthmian Games. Option 1 might at first seem unlikely inasmuch as Suetonius was explicit about the periodic cycle of the Caesarea and there is supportive epigraphical evidence. What is more, there are numerous references to penteteric festivals that were established or reorganized in Roman times. Pleket, in his discussion of the term as used in the famous inscription regarding the festival endowed by Demosthenes of Oenaonda, argues that “the use of the term ‘penteteric’ may have reminded the ancient reader . . . of the numerous penteteric, sacred-crown-games both in and outside Lycia; in other words, ‘penteteric’ has overtones associated with the most prestigious games in the ancient world.” He then proceeds to provide several epigraphical examples where the text indicates that greater prestige is to be associated with penteteric games than other kinds.207 Pleket’s argument about the prestige of penteteric games is persuasive in general, but as Pleket himself notes, not all the inter202. Geagan 1968, p. 72. 203. The last term was used in a number of cities to indicate a foundation honoring mainly the first Augustus, but in the late 2nd and especially in the 3rd century, it was used in place of the widespread and earlier Σεβαστά: see Robert 1970, pp. 22, 24. 204. Mitchell 1993, pp. 217–226. 205. Boatwright 2000, pp. 99–100,

n. 75 (the latter includes sources for the 21 cities). 206. Mitchell 1993, p. 224, n. 190. 207. Pleket 1998, pp. 164–166; the quote is from p. 164. Pleket’s comments on the term “penteteric” are set within a discussion of the categories of local contests in Roman Lycia (and by extension in the Near East) in which he concludes there were three: (1) contests

founded and paid for by private individuals with cash prizes; (2) urban contests with cash prizes held on a penteteric or more frequent schedule; and (3) “international, ecumenical and often but not necessarily always penteteric sacred-crown-games” (p. 166). Wörrle (1988, pp. 240–243), whom Pleket cites, had proposed a larger number of categories.

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national, ecumenical sacred-crown games were penteteric.208 Chief among the exceptions, we might suppose, were the biennial Isthmian and Nemean Games, two of the original four panhellenic agonistic festivals. Holding the Caesarea every two years in conjunction with the Isthmian Games would have made it possible for the Caesarea to share in the long-held prestige of the Isthmia.209 Following the death and apotheosis of Augustus, the festival’s own status would be further enhanced, as well as the standing of the developing cult of the emperors and their families, by holding the festival of the Caesarea before that of the Isthmia,210 although probably in close succession. T. Manlius Iuvencus, agonothetes of the Isthmia and Caesarea probably in a year during the reign of Tiberius, was honored in Corinth for being the first person to hold the Caesarea before the Isthmia.211 As we have seen above, it was also during the reign of Tiberius that the earliest of the new imperial games were established. Option 2. The Caesarea began as penteteric, but were changed for some reason to a trieteric schedule. Geagan long ago urged the likelihood of Option 2. He suggested that a reason for the change in scheduling for the Caesarea was the introduction of imperial games in honor of Tiberius, and that from that time the “Greater Isthmia” on a four-year cycle was made up of all three sets of games, while the Isthmia and Caesarea would then have constituted the “Lesser Isthmia.” If this arrangement is not the case, Geagan asked, “how can we account for the continued occurrence of the Isthmia and Caesarea without reference to the imperial contests?”212 His argument is a strong one (but see Option 5, below), and its attractiveness has not diminished with time: Puech and more recently Kantiréa have accepted the proposal, including keeping the Sebastea on a four-year cycle, thus constituting a “Greater Isthmia.”213 Much of the evidence for the grouping of the sets of games is contained in honorific inscriptions for four groups of individuals, discussed and documented by Geagan: (1) agonothetai of all three sets of games; (2) eisagogeis of Sebastea and agonothetai of the Isthmia and Caesarea; (3) agonothetai of the Isthmia and Caesarea, without mention of a Sebastea; and (4) eisagogeis of Sebastea who never held (an attested) agonothesia.214 There were occasionally multiple individuals serving in a single agonothesia.215 A more important consideration is that there is a single instance recognized by Geagan of one individual serving as agonothetes of imperial contests and, possibly at a different time, agonothetes of the Isthmia and Caesarea; his 208. See the quote in the preceding note. 209. Spawforth, in his discussion of the creation of the Uranian festival and contests in honor of Zeus Uranius in Sparta in a.d. 97 or 98, comments: “Like all games of any importance, they were celebrated quinquennially”: Cartledge and Spawforth 2002, p. 185. His comment is an exaggeration: the Isthmian and Nemean games, which retained much of their prestige in early imperial times, were biennial.

210. West connected the change of sequence of the two sets of games with intentional efforts to emphasize the imperial cult: Corinth VIII.2, p. 64. On the evolution of the imperial cult in Greece during the time of the JulioClaudians, see now the important study by Kantiréa (2007). 211. Corinth VIII.2, pp. 63–66, no. 81; Corinth VIII.3, p. 73, no. 154; and Corinth I-1971-15, which I am preparing for publication in a separate article.

212. Geagan 1968, p. 73. 213. Puech 1983, p. 18; Kantiréa 2007, p. 187. 214. Geagan 1968, pp. 71–75. 215. Broneer 1959, pp. 324–326, no. 5, line 6: συναγωνοθέται, which Broneer took to mean more than two colleagues in that office with Nikias, the honorand of the inscription. Corinth VIII.3, pp. 91–92, no. 212, line 5: conagon[oth(etes)]; the inscription is dated by Kent to ca. a.d. 90. There is further discussion in Geagan 1968, p. 73, n. 18.

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reason for accepting the chronological separation of the Sebastea from the Isthmia and Caesarea was the repetition of the word agonothetes with the two groups of festivals.216 Gebhard, however, rejected assigning the Sebastea to the emperor Tiberius in the inscription concerned (Corinth VIII.3, no. 153) on archaeological grounds as too early, and proposed a restoration that would identify them as Tib[erea Claud]iea Sebastea.217 Kajava, in his restudy of the same inscription, has acknowledged that Gebhard is correct about the Sebastea, and argues that more extensive emendations in Kent’s reading of the inscription are necessary. He proposes that the honorand of the inscription should be Cn. Cornelius Pulcher and not L. Castricius Regulus (father or son); that the same Cornelius Pulcher was the first person to hold the Isthmian Games at the Isthmus for the colony of Corinth; and that he was responsible for other innovations in the Isthmian and Caesarean festivals, including instituting a contest for maidens, which he supports with additional, new textual restorations.218 Kajava does accept Geagan’s reasoning regarding separate agonothesia for Cornelius Pulcher, dating his presidency of the Tiberea Claudiea Sebastea to a.d. 41 and presidency of the Isthmia and Caesarea to a.d. 43.219 The argument in support of the double, successive agonothesiai seems slender to me, especially since Kajava stresses that the inscription seems to emphasize the honorand’s innovations in the Isthmia and Caesarea,220 a point which, if correct, might alone explain as emphasis the use of agonothetes in front of both sets of contests. The repetition of titles might also stress the fact that he was first not only with innovations in the Isthmia and Caesarea, but also was the first to preside over Sebastea in honor of Claudius, which would be true whether the Sebastea were dated to a.d. 41 or 43. I doubt also that the Tiberea Claudiea Sebastea could have been created in time to be held in the spring of a.d. 41 since Claudius became emperor only at the death of Gaius on January 14 of that year.221 216. Corinth VIII.3, pp. 70–73, no. 153, where the honorand, L. Castricius Regulus (restored), is named as agonothetes first of the Tibereon Caesareon Sebasteon (lines 4–5) and then as agonothetes (restored) of the Isthmian and Caesarean games (lines 6–7). Geagan (1968, pp. 73–74, n. 19) takes the repetition of the office to indicate that they were “apparently” (p. 74) held in different years, but rejects other instances of both cited by West and by Kent because they involved restorations of the office that he considered possibly incorrect. 217. Gebhard 1993b, pp. 87–88, with n. 44. 218. Kajava 2002b. Cn. Cornelius Pulcher was already known as the Isthmian agonothetes when a young girl, Hedea, won one, possibly two, Isthmian contests: Syll.3 802 (= FdD III.1, no. 534). The same inscription records

that Hedea, her two sisters, and her father, Hermesianax, were honored at Delphi for their victories in several sacred games. Her sister Tryphosa also was victorious in a stade race of the Isthmia when Iuventius Proclus was agonothetes, presumably also during the reign of Claudius. Her second sister, Dionysia, also won the stade at Isthmia, if Pomtow’s restoration in line 18 is correct, when an Antigonos was agonothetes (as he seems to have been for the Pythian and Nemean games, respectively, for victories by Tryphosa and Hedea, also respectively); Miller 2004, p. 154 and Kyle 2007, pp. 219–220. See Strasser 2001–2002, pp. 287–296, on the Isthmian contests of Hedea; he concludes that the Greek terms are best understood as referring to a victory in chariot racing, where she won as the owner of the horses and chariot (as a number of women had done in antiq-

uity), and a second victory in a contest for maidens who carried a small shield in a race, enoplion (dromon). 219. Kajava 2002b, pp. 171–173. Cornelius Pulcher was the scion of a distinguished, wealthy family of Epidauros, where he served as gymnasiarchos and agoranomos at festivals when he was four years old: IG IV2.1 632. See RomPel I, pp. 116–117, no. ARG 116; an updated stemma (IV) on p. 531. In “Remarks” by the editors on p. 117, there is additional bibliography on youthful holders of municipal and festival magistracies (including the agonothesia), a practice that continued even in the time of Ioannes Chrysostomos (4th–5th century a.d.). 220. Kajava 2002b, esp. p. 176. 221. Sherk 1988, p. 41. The need for time for the establishment of new festivals named after an emperor is discussed further below.

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What is more, among the many agonistic inscriptions from Corinth and Isthmia, there is no mention of a Gaea Caesarea Sebastea: Kent supposed that the Sebastea were “suspended” during the reign of Claudius’s predecessor.222 Since there is no evidence to support an argument that the cycle of penteteric Sebastea continued under Gaius, we should not suppose that one was scheduled in advance for a.d. 41. That is, there would need to be time for Claudius to receive a request from the Corinthians to create Sebastea in his name, and for the emperor to respond: a.d. 43, in that case, would be a more likely date than a.d. 41 for Sebastea for Claudius. West called attention to some other expressions for games that continue to be a cause for some confusion. C. Iulius Spartiaticus was agonothetes under Claudius of the Isthmion et Caese(reon) | Sebasteon, the latter title of which he thought might be “a slightly expanded Caesarea,” or that the whole title might be simply an abbreviated form of Tiberea Claudiea Caesarea Sebastea et Isthmia et Caesarea. In similar fashion he considered ἀγωνοθέτην Καισαρείων Ἰσθμίων in two inscriptions honoring Cn. Cornelius Pulcher, a Roman knight, high priest of the imperial cult, and patron of the colony of Corinth,223 to be an “obvious” abbreviated form of the lengthy Sebastea title for Trajan plus the customary Isthmia and Caesarea.224 Elsewhere West identified the expression just cited (and mistakenly an “Isthmia Caesarea”225), as an abbreviated form used every four years to refer to the “Greater Isthmia,” abbreviating the set of imperial contests and the Isthmia and Caesarea.226 His analysis seems confirmed by the fact that the cursus of Cornelius Pulcher preserved in other inscriptions gives the full standard titles of those festivals.227 Kent expressed agreement, adding only that the abbreviated form was not an official designation.228 Geagan referred to the titles Caesarea Sebastea and Caesarea Isthmia, but offered no explanation other than commenting that the full title of the games for Cornelius Pulcher is known from an inscription from Epidauros.229 Although it is now clear that the Caesarea were held every two years with the Isthmian Games, at least from the reign of Tiberius, West’s early suggestion of abbreviated forms seems reasonable and likely to me, as evidently to Puech.230 Option 3. The Caesarea and the Sebastea were not celebrated for some reason on one or more occasions, and, when their celebrations were resumed, they began in an Isthmian year that was not on the earlier “Greater Isthmia” schedule. This option is theoretically possible, since we know that festivals in many areas 222. Corinth VIII.3, p. 28, n. 25. 223. Corinth VIII.1, pp. 59–61, nos. 80, 81. He was also the grandson of the Cn. Cornelius Pulcher discussed above. 224. Corinth VIII.2, pp. 50–53, no. 68; the reading CAESE is certain, according to Kent (p. 51). 225. In Corinth VIII.2, p. 64, West gives as his evidence for the existence of that title the victors list of a.d. 3: Corinth VIII.1, pp. 14–18, no. 14. The reading of Meritt on which he relied, however, was improved by Peek 1933, p. 416, Face A, lines 5–6, where his

partially restored conjunction κ[αί] connects the Ἰ[σ]θμίων and Καισαρή[ων]. 226. Corinth VIII.2, pp. 56–57. 227. E.g., Corinth VIII.2, p. 56, no. 71 (and possibly pp. 57–58, no. 72) and IG IV 795 from Epidauros. 228. Corinth VIII.3, p. 28, n. 24, where he cites only the Καισαρείων Ἰσθμίων. 229. Geagan 1968, pp. 71, 72, n. 14. 230. Puech 1983, p. 18. Kantiréa (2007, p. 187) has a confusing account of the “Isthmia Kaisareia.” In her text she cites the use of the erroneous expression in the victors list of a.d. 3,

even though the improved reading by Peek (see n. 225, above) connects the names of the two festivals by a conjunction; the examples she cites in n. 5 on that page are countered by Kent’s restoration of a conjunction (in Corinth VIII.3, nos. 150 and 198) and a partially restored conjunction (no. 222); in no. 173, the expression is a three-word title that serves as an abbreviated form for all three sets of games. She also overlooked no. 213, where the title in lines 5–6 was restored correctly with a conjunction by Geagan (1968, p. 79).

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were sometimes postponed or not held at all for various reasons.231 It is well known that the Isthmian Games were halted and the festival transferred to Sikyon in the middle of the 2nd century b.c. We shall return to this topic below. Option 4. The Sebastea festival, once established in the time of Tiberius, was penteteric throughout his reign and the reigns of later emperors, but was held always in the same year as the scheduled Isthmia and Caesarea. This option reflects the assumption of most scholars who have dealt with the issue. Although the evidence for penteteric Sebastea is widespread in the Roman world, it is not certain that imperial contests for one emperor continued on the same cycle into the reign of a succeeding emperor. It is also to the point that the earliest imperial contests in the Corinthia can be dated only to the reign of Tiberius, not to a specific year,232 and our knowledge of the absolute dates of all other Sebastea in the Corinthia, except for the one mentioned on the Neronian herm of a.d. 57, is similarly deficient. Assuming the validity of Option 4 influenced the assigning of possible absolute dates within each emperor’s reign to the agonistic offices recorded in Corinthian inscriptions, as well as other dependent dates. Other kinds of data were also used, of course, such as the dating of duoviral coinage, first by Edwards,233 then more recently by Amandry.234 The new dating by Amandry, as readers will recall, required a restructuring not only of duoviral dates, but of other dates that depended in some way on the sequence and dates of the duovirs. The other chronological indicators (fitting known agonothetai to the theoretically possible dates in each emperor’s reign, termini post and ante quem as determined by other magistracies or priesthoods held by particular individuals, and other useful devices) have been, and are always helpful. But some absolute dates are needed to anchor our charts and assumptions, and they have been in short supply. Should Option 4 be correct, and we count back from a.d. 57, we would find that the earliest possible date for a Tiberian Sebastea is a.d. 17. If next we assume that there were imperial contests in honor of Tiberius in that year, the Neronian festival recorded on the herm was the tenth Sebastea since that time. I suggest, however, that we assume no such thing: we still have no solid evidence for the actual date of the first Sebastea of Tiberius, and we do not know if the penteteric cycle was inviolate among successive emperors: the cycle could have started anew with each emperor, as in the following option. Option 5. The Sebastea were established anew for each emperor, but coinciding with a celebration of the Isthmia and Caesarea, and were thereafter penteteric for the reign of that emperor only. We do not have the kind of evidence (secure dates, for example, for at least two consecutive festivals in each 231. See Tracy and Habicht 1991, p. 234: “As happened occasionally to major festivals of other states, the Panathenaia could not always be held when they were due. Sometimes war or bad times did not allow for celebrations.” As noted above, Kent, following West,

supposed a suspension of the Sebastea festival in Corinth during the reign of Caligula: Corinth VIII.3, p. 28, n. 25. 232. Corinth VIII.3, pp. 73–74, no. 156, where Kent suggests no specific date for the Sebastea, and offers a.d. 39 as the year of the honorand’s

agonothesia of the Isthmia and Caesarea (the omission of “Isthmia and” in Kent’s discussion of the date must have been inadvertent). 233. Corinth VI. 234. Amandry 1988.

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of two imperial reigns) that might prove or disprove this option for the Corinthia. I find it attractive as a possibility, however, and offer the following considerations as justification.235 At the very least the Sebastea for each emperor honored were given a new name, that is, the name of the new emperor. There would also have been some—perhaps considerable—reorganization: attested modifications include, for example, the addition of encomia and other honorific events for the new emperor and his family, and the deletion of other events made obsolete by the demise of the previous emperor or simply the passing of time. These and other changes required communication with the authorities in Rome, and such communication necessitated time-consuming travel by sea and sometimes by land—even more time-consuming—as well. The first celebration of imperial games for a new emperor would have required, as for other newly sanctioned sacred games, the permission of the emperor and the approval of the Roman Senate.236 Such games, after all, were a principal part of the establishment and spread of the imperial cult.237 Even though we should expect Sebastea in honor of a new emperor to be established as soon as possible after his ascension to the rank of Augustus (if the emperor agreed to the new festival), time was needed for circulation of official proclamations of the designation of the new emperor and then for the formal petition to hold the Sebastea to be framed and presented in Rome. Once permission had been granted, and decisions had been reached and approved regarding the basic details of the festival (dates, events and their schedule, and other details), there was still the necessity to send out envoys to the great cities of the Mediterranean world to announce the new festival and the specific events that might be contested. Cities and regional koina would be invited to send theoroi to observe the activities and synthytai who would share in the sacrifices.238 Announcements, therefore, needed to be timely for the success and reputation of the games. What is more, the explosive increase in the number of agones during the early empire (more than 500 have been estimated by the mid-2nd century a.d.)239 meant not only that the possible circuits of games for competitors, many of them now 235. The following publications were particularly useful in framing the discussion that follows in the text: Pleket 1975, 1998, on the history, organization, and cultural impact of agonistic festivals in the Greek world; Robert 1984, a perceptive historical and cultural overview of the evolution and spread of Greek-style athletic competitions in Hellenistic and Roman times; van Nijf 1999, which is also broad in scope, coherent, and concise; Herz 1986, 1997: the latter is especially valuable for brief but informative summaries of the major features of agonistic festivals in the East during the Roman period. See also Mitchell 1993, pp. 217– 226, which lists sacred games, including those named for Roman emperors, in

numerous cities of Anatolia; and Leschhorn 1998, pp. 46–57, where the author presents a chart summarizing the chronology and various games celebrated by coins issued in the provincial cities of the Roman East. 236. Van Nijf 1999, p. 181; Herz 1997, pp. 257–258; Mitchell 1993, pp. 219–224; Spawforth 1989, pp. 193– 194. 237. Roueché 1993, p. 5; Mitchell 1993, p. 219; van Nijf 1999, p. 188; Kantiréa 2007, p. 196. 238. The season for safest sailing in the Mediterranean during Roman times was May 27 to September 14; two uncertain periods for ships were March 10 to May 27 and September 14 to November 11; and the most danger-

ous season was the winter, when the sea was normally closed to navigation (mare clausum): see Chevallier 1988, pp. 121– 122, and sources cited there. Roueché 1993, pp. 182–189, nos. 58–64, are inscriptions of Aphrodisias honoring official delegations of “fellow sacrificers” from other cities who came in celebration of the granting of the gift (δωρεά: that is, permission from the emperor) of the sacred contest. See also Herz 1997, pp. 247–249, on official delegations from abroad and on joint sacrifices. 239. See Leschhorn 1998; Pleket 1998, p. 155. The increase in the number of contests was an “explosion agonistique”: Robert 1984, p. 38.

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professionals, grew larger, but also that travel schedules became more complex: a late announcement might mean a shortage of international competitors because they were unable to fit the new festival into their schedule.240 Competition to persuade the most acclaimed athletes and artists to appear at a festival, we may be sure, increased in intensity as the number of agones in the Greek world increased. To address these concerns, the ecumenical synodoi of athletes, musicians, poets, actors, and other performers provided assistance in various ways, ranging from helping to ensure that some number of ecumenical competitors would travel to the announced agon to providing local facilities for visiting athletes and performers, even funding and sponsoring some local contests, and managing some or all of the contests in a city or region through a xystarches appointed by the emperor.241 The synodoi of athletes (eventually a single synodos) and the parallel synodos of artists and other performers were in regular correspondence with the emperors, thereby developing a closeness with the reigning emperor and obtaining privileges for their members, all of which ensured their importance in the life of cities in the Greek world.242 Finally, still more time was required for the sponsoring cities, sanctuaries, koina, and other entities to prepare their facilities and to designate additional officials, as needed. An inscription recording the contents of three letters of Hadrian written in a.d. 134 to the Dionysiac artists and, though not cited in the formal address, incidentally to members of the athletic guild, provides considerable support for Option 5 above and the comments that follow the option. The three letters are on a single marble plaque, found fragmented but complete near the agora of Alexandreia Troas, and published in 2006, just three years after its discovery.243 Jones published an important article in which he made a series of emendations to the text, set out a new arrangement of topical sections, and created an English translation; Slater subsequently published a review of the initial publication, which included another English translation, based on that by Jones, but also with a detailed and insightful historical and topical commentary.244 The SEG for 2006, which appeared in 2010, published a new Greek text that incorporated 240. Even so, the number of victories by some of the top athletes was staggering: see above, in the General Commentary on line 19, comments on the remarkable career of the pankratiast M. Aurelius Demostratus Damas of the 2nd century a.d. See more generally van Nijf 1999, pp. 188–193, stressing the role of local elites in panhellenic games and even more so in contests within their own cities or regions. 241. The xystarches and the synodoi of athletes are discussed briefly in the General Commentary on lines 19 and 20. See also the discussion of the concerns faced in late-2nd-century Aphrodisias in the reorganizing of several contests in the city: Roueché 1993,

pp. 46, 166–168, no. 51. The inscription calls for announcements about the regulations and prizes of sets of contests and of establishing schedules for them, and of announcing to the synodos (full title not recorded) a new festival (the Callicratea, after the name of the creator of the endowment for the games), which was to take place in the sixth month of the coming year, before the departure of the synodos for Rome to attend the Capitolia. The inscription continues with discussion of a timetable for contests that would enable competitors to participate in other important games elsewhere: e.g., at Heraclea and in the Niceratea at Tralles. Roueché also cites a papyrus from Oxyrhynchus

containing a letter to the synodos of athletes about a new contest (first celebrated in a.d. 273) “urging them to ensure that their members attended” (p. 46, n. 27). 242. Their high status in the empire generally, and particularly at Aphrodisias, is discussed in Roueché 1993, pp. 50–55, with sources, and documented with additional inscriptions (texts, translations, and commentary), pp. 223–236, nos. 88–93; see further comments in “Conclusions.” 243. Petzl and Schwertheim 2006, which includes the Greek text, a German translation, and an extensive commentary. 244. C. P. Jones 2007; Slater 2008.

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most of Jones’s emendations as well as some emendations of others, along with an extensive commentary, which included the views of others who had published reviews or other articles on the inscription up to 2010.245 The letters are responses to requests of the two guilds and to petitions from cities and provinces of the Roman East, many of which were brought by ambassadors of those places and organizations to a meeting with Hadrian during the Sebasta in Naples in August/September of a.d. 134. Letter 1 (lines 1–56) has responses to cities, athletes, and Dionysiac performers and concerns mainly prizes, pensions, other financial matters, the conduct of contests, and permission to inscribe the letter on stelai anywhere. Letter 2 (lines 57–84) concerns a reordering of the sequence and length of the principal agonistic festivals throughout the empire, arranged in such a way that competitors might be able get to them in time to participate. This letter, too, ends with instructions for it to be published on stelai by the cities and synodoi. Letter 3 (lines 85–89) authorizes the customary banquet at the festivals, but to be paid for by the agonothetai, as customary, rather than by the cities. Our concern here is with the circuit of games in Letter 2, which begins in retrospect with the Olympia (in Pisa) in the summer of a.d. 133, and proceeds festival by festival, year by year, to end with the Olympia of a.d. 137. The sequence is full of surprises: the Isthmia now is to come after Olympia (line 62), not before, as traditionally, and in Slater’s interpretation, the Isthmia (line 70) is held again three years after Olympia (a.d. 136), not two(!), and after the Pythia (also moved by a year), not before.246 The Nemea is listed just once (line 65), along with the Heraia (at Olympia) in November and December of a.d. 134, following the Olympia (in Pisa). All major festivals are to last 40 days (line 80, and the figure is also mentioned occasionally in the text for specific festivals), except evidently three sacred festivals in Ephesus, to be held in succession for a total of 52 days (line 73). These and other changes from traditional dates and relative sequence prompted Slater to write: “any idea that the old Greek festivals were fixed entities in a calendar must be revised, if we are to believe Hadrian’s proposals, which he ‘orders’ to be set up.”247 Hadrian seems particularly focused on festivals named after him, or which he initiated or enhanced, ensuring that they are listed among the most prestigious festivals for the traveling athletes and Dionysiac performers to attend. The inscription mentions specifically the Athenian Hadrianeia (lines 62–63), which were first celebrated in autumn of a.d. 133, beginning the day after the festival in Eleusis ends, “according to the Athenians” on the first day of the month of Maimakterion, although the 245. SEG LVI 1359. There have been a few occasions in the present study to mention some of the contents of Letter 1. Those and all other references in this article are to the Greek text of the SEG. 246. See the discussion by Pleket in SEG LVI 1359, p. 450, for another interpretation and other views on filling out the circuit in a.d. 135 and/or

136 so that less blank space or none occurs. (The possible dates for Corinth VIII.3, pp. 95–96, no. 223, are directly affected by the interpretations offered here: see n. 68, above.) Pleket comments further: “It was not the emperor’s intention to provide an entirely new and complete chronological framework; rather, he focused on a number of very important festivals

which artists/athletes wanted to attend at all costs. The new calendar enables them in principle to do that by eliminating chronological barriers.” What is more, the athletes and theatrical performers might fill the times left vacant by participating in other local contests or entertainments. 247. Slater 2008, p. 614.

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Eleusinian Games (distinct from the Mysteries) had been occurring in Metageitnion;248 in a.d. 135, the Panathenaia (line 66) in Athens, already raised in a.d. 119 by Hadrian to eiselastic standing.249 The year a.d. 137, the year when the first Panhellenia (already founded and scheduled by Hadrian) were to be held (line 71), begins in early January at Smyrna with its Hadrianeia (lines 71–72), followed by the three linked, successive Ephesian festivals (lines 72–73)—Olympia, Balbilleia, and Hadrianeia250— followed by the first celebration of the Panhellenia in Athens, and finally the Olympic Games (lines 73–74), completing the circuit from one Olympiad to the next. There had already been in existence another sequential list of agonistic festivals approved by the Roman Senate (lines 76–77), which was also aimed at making it feasible for the maximum number of competitors to participate in certain favored games.251 What is more, the emperor Trajan had promulgated yet another list of prestigious festivals, this one of eiselastic contests in which obsonia were awarded to victors. That list is mentioned in an exchange of letters between Pliny the Younger and Trajan.252 These repeated exercises in trying to establish certainty about the sequences of festivals, which would necessitate some standardizing of lengths of individual festivals (as in the Hadrianic circuit), attest to the numerous logistical problems created by the growth in power of the guilds of athletes and theatrical performers, by efforts of officials to attract to their contests the most accomplished competitors, and by the explosive growth in agonistic contests in the Roman world. The Hadrianic inscription from Alexandreia Troas has highlighted for us a number of important aspects of agonistic festivals in Roman times, and there is still much more to learn from study of the inscription. As Slater commented: “What we now know for certain is that festivals could be combined and recombined, renamed, and that their times could be shifted.”253 Indeed, we have had much evidence before us for some time. In Corinth alone we have noted over the years the appearance and disappearance, or at least change, of a series of Sebastea, and the abbreviated names, some still mysterious, of festivals and combinations of festivals. We have noted as well changing terminologies for categories of contests; the addition of new categories; and a changing sequence of festivals, such as the Caesarea and the Isthmia. Even the locations for performance might differ, as between Corinth and the Isthmian sanctuary for the Caesarea and/or the Isthmian contests and for various festivals honoring particular emperors. Since Nero became Augustus following the death of Claudius on October 13, a.d. 54, and given the slowness of long-distance communication, it is questionable whether or not all the necessary preparations could 248. Slater 2008, p. 616, n. 12. On evidence for the agonistic Eleusinia at an earlier time occurring in Metageitnion, see Mikalson 1975, p. 46. 249. Spawforth 1989, p. 194; see Pleket’s comment on line 66 in SEG LVI 1359, p. 450. Mikalson 1975, p. 34. 250. The almost new Hadrianeia is

not mentioned in Letter 2, but see in Letter 1, lines 45–46, where the Balbilleia has been split into two groups of contests, one continuing to be called the Balbilleia and the new one the Hadrianeia. The first celebration of the new Hadrianeia was in 133, before the Olympia (in Pisa) and before the

publication of Hadrian’s new circuit: see Slater 2008, p. 615, n. 4. 251. The list “must date at least after the Capitolia in [a.d.] 86,” according to Slater 2008, p. 615. 252. Plin. Ep. 10.118, 119. 253. Slater 2008, p. 616.

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be made in the Corinthia, or that an announcement of new Sebastea would be appropriately effective in time for the spring games of a.d. 55.254 If so, Ti. Claudius Dinippus was agonothetes in a.d. 57 of the first Sebastea honoring Nero in the Corinthia, along with the Isthmia and Caesarea.255 If, on the other hand, the logistical problems outlined above were overcome and the first Corinthian Sebastea festival in honor of Nero was held in a.d. 55 on the postulated occasion of a “Greater Isthmia,” neither the new games nor the old cycle of the “Greater Isthmia” were penteteric, because all three festivals were indeed held in the agonothesia of Dinippus in a.d. 57.

Con C Lu s i on s The inscription from the Gymnasium Bath provides a new fixed date, a.d. 57, for three festivals that were held in the same year: the Neronea Claudiea Caesarea Sebastea Germanicea along with the Isthmia and the Caesarea (lines 9–10). The date is based on the consular date (lines 4–6) of the inscription: when the consuls were Emperor Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, for the second time, and L. Calpurnius Piso. Ti. Claudius Dinippus, well known in Corinthian inscriptions, was explicitly agonothetes of all three festivals (lines 7–10). The xystarches, a title preserved for the first time in any document referring to Corinth, was Cn. Babbius Italicus (lines 19–20), whose filiation is not given in the inscription, but whose father (or grandfather) was Cn. Babbius Philinus, who held major magistracies in Corinth during the reign of Augustus and was a benefactor of the same city. The names of other officials and of victors of the contests are recorded in the inscription and their identity with, or relation to, other individuals and families known from Corinth have been explored in this article. A particularly important point is that a.d. 57 is not a date at which a Sebastea festival was expected to occur along with the Isthmia and Caesarea, according to the calculations of earlier scholars regarding a “Greater Isthmia.” One of the most significant conclusions of this study is that these modern terminological designations are misleading, because they are based on a schedule of agonistic festivals that is too inflexible to reflect the realities both of local and imperial timetables and the motivations that affect them, or the realities—which may often equal “difficulties”—of travel in Roman times, and above all because of the increasing importance of the guilds, both of athletes and of theatrical and musical performers. Their influence in matters affecting their members was repeatedly acknowledged in communications, first from the triumvir M. Antonius in the late 254. Nero’s accession was proclaimed in Egypt on November 17, a.d. 54: Smallwood 1967, p. 32, no. 47 (Greek text); Sherk 1988, pp. 61–62, no. 61 (English translation and commentary). The proclamation presumably was made in Corinth earlier, perhaps by the first of November: time must be allowed not only for transpor-

tation, but also for official approval and preparation in Rome of papers and proclamations. Besides, Nero might not have agreed at first to have Sebastea celebrated in his name in the Corinthia; other emperors before and after Nero declined such celebrations, as well as cult. Nero actually did the latter, perhaps as early as a.d. 55, when he

declined divine honors at a site in Egypt: Sherk 1988, p. 103, no. 62. On the variable delays because of travel by sea and by land, even of announcements in provincial cities of the accession of a new emperor, see DuncanJones 1990, pp. 7–29. 255. See the discussion of lines 7–8 above in the General Commentary.

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1st century b.c.,256 and then from a series of Roman emperors, especially during the first two centuries of the empire; the latest attestation of the combined synodos of athletes occurred in the late 4th century a.d.257 Three letters of the emperor Hadrian preserved on an inscription discovered in Alexandreia Troas and first published in 2006 provide important confirmation of these conclusions. Even the programs (that is, in addition to cycles and dates) of prestigious and ancient contests, such as the Isthmia, may be changed or inscribed in terms that may seem unusual to us now. The introduction of events for maidens at Isthmia during the agonothesia of Cn. Cornelius Pulcher in the reign of Claudius is an example of a major change. The suggestion above, in the General Commentary on lines 24–27, that a torch race or races may be represented among the dromoi of our inscription is an example of a more modest nature, which reflects the view that we need to reassess our own concepts of what was “normal” at multiple agonistic festivals. 256. The rescript was discovered on the back of a medical papyrus in the British Museum, P. Lond. 137. See Forbes 1955, pp. 239–240, for a list of sources for the text, an English translation, and a commentary. An earlier petition mentioned in the letter of

M. Antonius was probably in 42/1 b.c.; his actual letter may not have been written until 33/2 b.c.; see Millar 1977, p. 456, and Forbes 1955, p. 250, n. 7. 257. a.d. 384–392: Caldelli 1992, p. 78, citing IG XIV 1106 (= IGUR I 248).

c hap ter 12

r om an Bat h s at i st h m i a an d Sa n c t uary Bat h s i n g r e e c e by Fikret K. Yegül

Occupying the northwest corner of the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia (Plan C), and just under 2,000 m2, the Roman Baths are a medium-to-large size establishment.1 To the north and northwest the land drops sharply into the Great Ravine (Fig. 12.1). The tight, corner location of the baths was probably dictated by necessity. Dating to the middle decades of the 2nd century a.d., the baths were among the last major additions to the sanctuary under Roman rule.2 It is believed that they were in use as a bath, perhaps its facilities somewhat curtailed, late into the 4th or early 5th century.3 Also located here was what we might imagine to be the predecessor to the Roman complex, a very large pool and possibly other simple washing facilities dating to the Classical period. The bath block (roughly 51 × 39 m) is composed of a tightly organized group of rectangular halls parallel or at right angles to each other (Figs. 12.1–12.3). The halls along the south and southwestern sides are heated (IX, X, XI, XIII); the frigidarium occupies the northwest corner (III, IV, V); the Main Hall (VI) is placed centrally, accessible from cold and hot areas; the primary entrance into the complex is from the southeast (XII, VII); there is a secondary entrance from the northeast, into room I by way of an independent vestibule, the latter only partially explored. If there was a palaestra it could have been in the flat area to the east, immediately north of the theater; or to the south, arranged on several low terraces upon the gently rising land. The baths were sumptuously decorated. Floors, where preserved, show mosaic or marble slab paving. Walls were revetted in polychromatic marbles 1. Yegül 1993; Gregory 1995. The architecture of the building will be presented in a forthcoming Isthmia volume by Gregory and Yegül. 2. According to Oscar Broneer, the principal excavator of the sanctuary, the first half of the 2nd century a.d. was the most likely period for brisk building activity, coinciding with the last rebuilding of the theater, laying out

of the stoas around the temple, and completing the precinct and the round temple of Palaimon. Broneer narrows this span to the time of Hadrian, a great benefactor of Greek cities and sanctuaries: “[But] it is unlikely . . . that the whole program was finished during his reign; the major part of construction may well have lasted into the period of the Antonines” (Isthmia II, p. 83). See

also Gebhard 1993b; Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998, pp. 416–417. Recent work confirms an Antonine date for the Theater, Stoas, and phase V of the Palaimonion. 3. Gregory 1995, pp. 302–303; Hayes 1993; Marty 1993, pp. 126–129. See also Beaton and Clement 1976, pp. 277–278; Wohl 1981, pp. 112–118, 137–140.

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Figure 12.1. roman Baths, isthmia: actual-state plan. W. B. Dinsmoor Jr.

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Figure 12.2. roman Baths, isthmia: partially restored plan. W. B. Dinsmoor Jr.

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or stucco molded into geometric patterns and painted. Some evidence of wall painting (mainly nonfigural, floral or garden scenes) exists, but this appears to belong to late renovations. In some of the rooms, decorative schemes for wall surfaces can be discerned from the evidence provided by mortar backing (e.g., room III). In room VI large areas of the wall retain low relief stucco decoration imitating ashlar work (First Style). Large sections of curved vault fragments decorated with geometric patterns imitating coffers have also been preserved. The Main Hall (VI, “main hall” below) was distinguished by a monochromatic mosaic depicting Nereids and Tritons, as well as other marine scenes, covering the big rectangular hall wall-to-wall like a sumptuous

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carpet; it was by far the most conspicuous space of the Roman Bath for its size, architectural disposition, and decoration (Fig. 12.4).4 Emphasized at its short, west end by a nearly axial apse behind a tall, statue podium, the hall appears to have been the focus of a ritual, social, or cultic use. The iconographic significance of the marine-themed mosaic, and the rich sculptural decoration of the room (including an architectural frieze of Nereids and sea creatures), point to Poseidon, who was the honorand of the sanctuary, as the primary deity whose worship in the large room overlapped a multidimensional, utilitarian, ceremonial, and honorific uses.5 The inclusion of popular cults in Roman baths and other civic buildings— especially the imperial cult—at a general and popular level is a subject of intriguing dimensions.6 The architectural design of the Roman Baths at Isthmia follows an arrangement generally known as the “hall type.”7 The hall-type plan is characterized by a large, distinct, and often rectangular main hall communicating with the heated rooms, the frigidarium, and some of the lounges or changing rooms. Typically, as in the Isthmia baths, parallel heated halls are placed on one side of the main hall and unheated, smaller rooms open on the other. In smaller complexes the cold pool of the frigidarium may be simply an extension into this hall, or the whole frigidarium function may even be subsumed by the main hall. In larger establishments, as at Isthmia, the frigidarium is a separate hall but directly linked to it. The

Figure 12.3. roman Baths, isthmia: overall view, looking north. Photo

tional objects, still remained an unofficial, private affair. A “Neptune Hall,” an “Asklepios Hall,” or an imperial cult hall in a bath should not be confused with a proper cult temple, aedes, with its established priesthood and religious calendar. The ceremony, or “worship,” in a civic space was essentially an exaggerated form of respect and honor to a deity, or a deified emperor and his clan,

and the architectural setting—as in room VI at Isthmia—not a specific sacred ground but a sociopolitical stage that allowed the soft mixing of religious, secular, and patriotic concerns. See Yegül 1982; 1986, pp. 5–7, 45–66, 134–139; 1992, pp. 422–423. 7. Yegül 1993, p. 101; 2003, pp. 64–67. See also Farrington 1999, pp. 63–65.

4. Packard 1980. See also Gregory 1995, pp. 287–289. 5. For the sculpture found in the Roman Baths at Isthmia, of which the largest proportion by far came from room VI, see Isthmia VI, esp. pp. 55–57. 6. It is important to note that the inclusion of cult in a Roman civic setting, focused on a statue niche, a podium, and an altar holding devo-

F. Yegül

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Figure 12.4. roman Baths, isthmia: Main Hall (Vi), looking east. Photo

F. Yegül

8. Yegül 1992, pp. 234–242, 400– 404.

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main hall (sometimes referred to as the “social hall” or grand salle in French publications) may be a self-contained rectangular unit, or it may be a space articulated by alcoves and colonnaded subdivisions, mirroring its multiple uses and creating a sense of spatial variety in design.8 The functional role and the architectural character of this space in the overall composition of spaces is more important than its shape; for instance, the East Baths at Olympia have an octagonal main hall. The Roman Baths at Isthmia, in architectural design, construction, heating technology, and decoration, comfortably fit into the larger regional and chronological categories of Roman baths in Italy and the eastern Mediterranean and share characteristics with many others. Even its identifying design morphology, the hall-type plan, is at home in Greece and abroad; it is a type defined by neither time nor place. The basic type is represented through a great variety of improvisations and iterations across the Mediterranean from Italy to Syria with increasing popularity into Late Antique and Byzantine times. What makes the Roman Baths at Isthmia different, even unique, among the thousands of public baths in the Roman world is their location in a major, panhellenic sanctuary, and their specific function serving a sanctuary, their nature as a “sanctuary bath.” Therefore, any meaningful study of this interesting establishment should start with the question of how these particular baths created for the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia were (or were not) effective in answering the unique needs of a Roman bath in a Greek sanctuary—and how such baths were culturally and contextually meaningful in their setting. We will start by reviewing the architecture of a handful of sanctuary baths in Greece with reference to the Isthmia baths.

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sanC t uary BatHs : an arCH i te Ct u raL an D Co ntext uaL ConsiD erat i on The inclusion of baths and bathing in the life and ritual of a sanctuary was not peculiar to the Roman era.9 Almost from their inception, many important sanctuaries in Greece and Asia Minor contained facilities for washing and bathing, and some, as at Olympia, Nemea, and Isthmia, were quite elaborate with various rooms of differentiated function, tubs, basins, showers, and large outdoor swimming pools. While these facilities were ordinarily designed for cold-water ablutions, the pleasures and efficacy of hot-water washing (especially in cleansing athletes’ bodies after exercise) prompted over time the renovation of many with the addition of hot-water systems, or the addition of new, heated baths.10

Sanct uary of Zeus, o ly m pia The panhellenic sanctuary of Olympia occupies a critical place in the early development of baths and heating technologies. It is not surprising that this preeminent sanctuary is the home of the Kladeos Baths, the earliest and most cogent parallel to the Isthmia baths (Fig. 12.5). Located at the west end of Olympia, and about one-quarter the size of the Isthmia baths, they are a direct continuation of the Greek baths immediately to their east.11 Like the Isthmia baths, they are built directly over a 5thcentury b.c. swimming pool and formed a part of what one might conceive of as the “health services” cluster of the sanctuary. A row of three vaulted, heated rooms (1, 2, C) is located to the south of the frigidarium (F), defined by pool alcoves projecting north and west. The plan and the northwest corner position of the frigidarium provide a close but miniaturized forerunner to the frigidarium of our bath. The central, main hall (B), boasting an elaborate mosaic floor, constitutes a hub to all major spaces through five doors. It can be recognized as the “social hall,” a scaled-down counterpart of room VI at Isthmia. Immediately outside the southwest corner of the precinct of Zeus, the South Baths at Olympia (Fig. 12.6) display a simple row arrangement of three small, heated rooms (1–3) along what was once thought of as a courtyard (like a “Pompeian”-type bath). The courtyard can safely be reinterpreted as a covered hall (H), and the plan closely follows the hall-type arrangement. A spacious, lounge-apodyterium (A) and a frigidarium (F) occupy the east and northeast corner of the building. The main hall, almost a square (ca. 15 × 15 m), dominates the composition and takes up one-third of the total area of the building. A cold pool unit opening into this space from the northeast and the columnar screen that might have supported an interior gallery underline the multifunctional programs typical of such halls. The crude brick construction suggests a date no earlier than ca. a.d. 200.12 Another example from Olympia is the mid-3rd-century East Baths (or the “Octagon Baths”), situated on the south edge of the sanctuary over the so-called Nero’s Villa (Fig. 12.7).13 This medium-sized bath is also dominated by a main hall distinctly different from the usual rectilinear, oblong format: a large domed octagon with semidomed corner apses is a rare architectural shape in Greece. Along the south side of the complex, five or six heated, barrel-vaulted rooms form a row, the caldarium occupying

9. Yegül 1992, pp. 17–21. 10. Yegül 1992, pp. 21–24; Delorme 1960, pp. 244–248. 11. Schleif and Eilmann 1944; Mallwitz 1972, pp. 274–277; Yegül 1993, p. 108. 12. Farrington 1999, pp. 61–63; Mallwitz 1972, pp. 245–246. 13. Mallwitz 1972, pp. 208–210.

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Figure 12.5. Kladeos Baths, sanctuary of Zeus, olympia. F. Yegül

1

2

3

H

Figure 12.6. south Baths, sanctuary of Zeus, olympia. F. Yegül

F

A

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Figure 12.7. east (“octagon”) Baths, sanctuary of Zeus, olympia. F. Yegül

the southeast corner. The floor of the octagon is paved by a handsome mosaic representing Poseidon and Amphitrite, narrating much the same themes as the great Nereid mosaic that covers the main hall at Isthmia. The sanctuary acquired no fewer than six or eight baths during its continued and popular use during the Roman period. Grouped immediately south of the palaestra, several independent bathing facilities had been introduced at Olympia by the middle of the 5th century b.c. and went through many phases of renovation and change into the Roman era. A structure with circular steam bath, a large, open-air swimming pool (16 × 24 m), and a long, rectangular building that housed 11 hip-baths are among the facilities assigned to the 5th century b.c. in their earliest phase. Neither the interiors of these facilities, nor the water that served them, was heated. By the end of the 5th century, an outdoor furnace was devised to supply the baths with hot water that was brought inside by buckets; the round steam bath (laconicum) must have been heated by a charcoal brazier. In the next phase (ca. 400–350 b.c.), a larger room with 20 hip-baths was added to the original long building. A furnace-boiler combination placed in the newly created service courtyard, and stoked from outside, supplied hot water directly into the bath room. In the final phase, dated roughly to 100 b.c., the hip-baths were replaced by an apsidal room (possibly vaulted) and a sophisticated heating system for the room itself, possibly a hypocaust proper, was introduced.14 The old swimming pool, which had

14. Schleif and Eilmann 1944, pp. 32–56; Mallwitz 1972, pp. 270–273; Yegül 1992, pp. 377–379. See also Nielsen 1985, esp. pp. 88–92.

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Figure 12.8 (top). small southwest Baths, sanctuary of Zeus, olympia. Photo F. Yegül

Figure 12.9 (bottom). Large southwest Baths, sanctuary of Zeus, olympia. Photo F. Yegül

15. In addition to these independent heated baths, which served the bathing needs of all sanctuary guests and residents, the Hellenistic Palaestra at Olympia (3rd century b.c.) housed elaborate, but traditional, cold-water bathing facilities exclusively for the use of the athletes (Yegül 1992, pp. 8–17, 23).

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been in continuous use during all these phases, was obliterated also around a.d. 100, when it was built over completely by the Kladeos Baths (see above). This establishment, with its well-designed, oblong, main hall and vaulted roofs, was the first proper Roman bath at Olympia.15 During the next two centuries the growing bathing needs of the sanctuary were met by the construction of several more independent baths distributed across the large site. Among them, the South Baths and the East Baths (with the “Octagon”), both located outside the walled core of the temenos, have been discussed above. Further toward the southwest (between the southwest corner of the Leonidaion and the Kladeos River) are two imposing bath complexes facing each other across an open space (Figs. 12.8, 12.9). They are distinctive for their design and excellent state of preservation. The Small Southwest Baths (named on-site as the “Baths of Leonidaion”), characterized by an apsidal, projecting caldarium, follow the simple

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“row-type” plan, and may date to the 4th century a.d.16 Facing these small baths on the south across an open space and its fairly large colonnaded courtyard (probably a palaestra, ca. 20 × 20 m) are the Large Southwest Baths (named on-site, cautiously, as the “Southwest Building”). This is a monumental complex distinguished by its tall, barrel-vaulted rectangular halls, whose massive brick-faced concrete walls are preserved up to and sometimes including the springing of their vaults. Opposite the entrance to the colonnaded courtyard and nestled against the building, is a large, open-air swimming pool. Of the three main halls, the one directly behind the natatio, and connected to it by a large, centrally placed door between a pair of niches, is the frigidarium. Judging by the opus reticulatum walls and fine details of construction, an early-2nd-century a.d. date can be suggested. While this monumental complex displays the basic architectural and technical features of a typical Roman bath, its generously proportioned halls, secondary units, and fine palaestra with a functional swimming pool suggest that it could have been a special institution combining the functions of a bath and a social or athletic club. Such a combination would underscore the notion of the expanded public uses of baths located in major sanctuary sites.

Sanct uary of a p ol l o, delphi The East Baths at the Sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi (Fig. 12.10) closely follow the planning model established by the Kladeos Baths at Olympia.17 Located directly outside the east peribolos wall and below the terrace of the Stoa of Attalos, this medium-sized bath is built on two levels. The upper level, ca. 3 m higher than and inaccessible from the lower one, contains only a courtyard (G) and water reservoirs (R1, R2, R3). On the lower level, a row of heated rooms (C1, C2, C3) is placed along a large, slightly irregular hall (A) paved with a handsome, geometric mosaic. The northwest corner of the building is occupied by a square frigidarium (F) and a pool unit projecting north (the small apsidal pool on the south is a late addition). The lower-level entrance is from the southeast, and leads into a trapezoidal room or courtyard (E) that can be compared to “atrium a” of the Kladeos Baths (Fig. 12.5). The overall planning similarity to the latter and, in a more irregular way, to the Isthmia baths, is apparent.

Sanct uary of a s klepios, epidau r o s The Northeast Baths, a 2nd-century establishment in the Sanctuary of Asklepios at Epidauros (Fig. 12.11), offer one of the best comparisons to the Roman Baths at Isthmia.18 Characterized by a long hall that extends the entire length of the bath block and divides it into cold (south) and warm (north) zones, this tall, barrel-vaulted space (B/A) is comparable 16. After pagan cults and temples were banned by the emperor Theodosius I in a.d. 391, the last games held at Olympia were the 293rd, in a.d. 393 (a different calculation proposes an alternative date in a.d. 425). For the

post-classical settlement at Olympia, see Drees 1968, pp. 159–160. 17. Bommelaer 1991, pp. 196–198; Bousquet 1952. See also Ginouvès 1955, pp. 136–138. 18. The carefully laid mortar-rubble

and brick walls built on a socle of ashlar blocks that represents the original 2ndcentury phase in Epidauros is directly comparable to construction of the Isthmia baths (Tomlinson 1983, pp. 48–54). See also Ginouvès 1955, pp. 141–146.

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Figure 12.10. east Baths, sanctuary of apollo, Delphi. F. Yegül

Figure 12.11. northeast Baths, sanctuary of asklepios, epidauros. F. Yegül

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Figure 12.12. Propylaea Baths, sanctuary of Demeter, eleusis. F. Yegül

to the main hall (VI) in Isthmia, although since it is much smaller and articulated differently it incorporated the primary functions of a frigidarium with those of an entrance hall and a lounge.19 The hall is divided into three zones or areas by handsome columnar screens and terminates at its east end in a wide apsidal pool. The areas, unified and yet segregated at the same time, are brought together under one continuous, barrel-vaulted roof. If the much larger main hall of the baths at Isthmia can be thought of as a “plaza,” a common and central element to the building, the hall/gallery at Epidauros is a “main street,” collecting and distributing its many peripheral bathing and social activities along a powerful, linear axis.

Sanct uary of d eme ter, eleus is Located outside the Greater Propylaea, immediately southeast of the monumental arch that served as a gate to the Roman street leading south, the Propylaea Baths at Eleusis (Fig. 12.12) are defined by a rectangular block with an area of ca. 550 m2, slightly smaller than the Northeast Baths at Epidauros.20 The relatively good quality of the mortar-rubble and brick construction of the main walls, and the maturely conceived plan, suggest a date no later than the Early Severan period. The northeast side of the bath block is occupied by a row of rooms, some heated, culminating in a

19. Tomlinson (1983, p. 53) recognized the importance of this hall and compared it to the “great hall(s) of the imperial bath buildings in Rome.” 20. Mylonas 1961, pp. 166–167, fig. 4; Kourouniotes 1936, pp. 68–70.

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Figure 12.13. City Baths, Dion: restored perspective, looking southwest. Courtesy of the Excavation of the

Aristotle University (Thessaloniki) at Dion

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caldarium with three projecting pools. The entrance leads into an oblong room divided in the middle into two perfectly square bays by a colonnade, the main hall proper. A rectangular pool unit opposite the entrance opens into the hall, which, along with its peripheral subsidiaries, must have served the multiple functions of entrance, lounge, apodyterium, and frigidarium. The distinctive spatial planning and analogy to the main hall of the Northeast Baths at Epidauros can be appreciated at a glance.

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21. Pandermalis 1986; 1997, pp. 33–38; Mee and Spawforth 2001, pp. 439–443; PECS, p. 276, s.v. Dion (P. A. MacKay). See also Farrington 1999, p. 63.

The finest example of a main hall articulated by a system of colonnaded screens and side units is the City Baths at Dion (the Roman Colonia Julia Diensis) in northern Greece; although technically not a “sanctuary bath,” the site at the foothills of Mt. Olympos was sacred to Zeus (Fig. 12.13).21 The discovery of a very rich collection of statues of Asklepios and his family inside the main hall and its subsidiaries—including a rare, full representation of all of his six daughters—has led the chief excavator, Dimitrios Pandermalis, to conclude that the healing god and his cult enjoyed a particular emphasis at the City Baths, a notion further strengthened by the existence of a small, extraurban Temple of Asklepios located near the baths.

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Approached from the main north–south street, behind some shops and facing a small plaza, the medium-sized baths constitute a compact block, about 1,400 m2 in size. Based on construction technique, a Severan date around a.d. 200 appears logical. A narrow vestibule entrance leads to a spacious rectangular hall fully covered by a sumptuous mosaic depicting marine themes with Nereids and Tritons. Across from the entrance, the frigidarium with triple pools opens into the main hall. A row of four rooms (three of which are heated) occupy the south side of the building. All major spaces open into the main hall; each of these is in essence a spatial and visual extension of the central space but screened from it by rows of columns, recalling the arrangement at the Eleusinian baths but grander. These peripheral units, lower and intimate spaces, must have been used as changing rooms, lounges, club rooms, and perhaps even as cult spaces, as indicated by the importance and preponderance of Asklepian themes and iconography in the baths. The plan of the City Baths at Dion, especially the arrangement of its heated rooms and their relation to the main hall and the frigidarium, follows in general the Isthmian pattern, and shares various degrees of planning similarities with other sanctuary baths subsumed under the category of hall-type baths and discussed here. The social nature of these important baths and their possible cultic association was underscored by Pandermalis: “Citizens . . . used to spend several hours almost every day at the baths, where in addition to bathing, they had opportunities for social intercourse, the worship of gods, physical exercise and recreation.”22

a mphi araion in at t ic a A small but important sanctuary dating to the Late Classical period, whose popularity did not wane during the imperial era, is the Amphiaraion in Attica, dedicated to Amphiaraos, a minor Olympian god with oracular and healing powers. The site, only a day’s journey from Athens, is in a well-watered, lush valley, on the sheltered sunny banks of a small stream. It shows just the right kind of modest but adequate architectural development where cult facilities, including two small baths, are sensitively distributed in nature. On the flatter, north bank of the stream, next to the Doric temple of the god, is the Sacred Spring, whose water was drunk by pilgrims from seashells, and where silver and gold coins were dropped into a well (Paus. 1.34.3). A small bath located adjacent to the spring probably received its waters from the same source and was primarily used for ritual purification.23 The north slope of the valley is terraced to support two long stoas (probably used for incubation), and behind them an exquisitely sited small theater nestled into the hill. At the end of this linear development, at the northeast end of the stoas, is the second bath, whose small, ashlar-built core of spaces dating from the 4th century b.c. is differentiated from the brick and rubble extensions from the Roman period. Like the simple washhouse by the temple, this bath, though more substantial, must have served the basic needs of ritual ablutions, but its appeal was broadened to include more secular bathing needs when artificial heating was introduced

22. Pandermalis 1997, p. 33. 23. Possibly the “men’s bath,” referred to in an inscription found in the vicinity (IOropos 292, lines 2–3).

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by the Romans probably as early as the early 1st century b.c. The site as a whole had a particular attraction to Romans, judging by the abundance of reused honorific statue bases carrying images of Late Republican and Early Imperial leaders. The enlarged and heated second bath must have served the pilgrims seeking a cure, whose lodgings and hospitalia occupy a rather large area across the stream on the steep south bank.24 The mixed use of a bath for religious and functional purposes is particularly logical in extraurban sanctuaries located far from cities. Several centuries later, the setup in the Augustan sanctuary of Clitumnus in Hispellum (Spello), a Late Republican colony in northern Italy, appears strikingly similar to the Amphiaraion. This site occupied the verdant banks of a stream that widened into many branches and rivulets and was admired for its clear, cold waters protected by a river god named Clitumnus. There were other deities and nymphs whose shrines were scattered along the watery expanse, each honoring and protecting a different stream or source. Pilgrims sacrificed to gods, threw money into the sacred stream, drew lots for the oracle, and no doubt used the famous baths given to the sanctuary by Augustus. Pliny’s description of the place (Ep. 8.8.4–6), its architecture and ritual, is valuable for its clarity and precision: [8.8.4] The banks are thickly clothed with ash trees and poplars, whose green reflections can be counted in the clear stream as if they were planted there. The water is as cold and as sparkling as snow. [8.8.5] Close by is a holy temple of great antiquity in which is a standing image of the god Clitumnus himself clad in a magistrate’s bordered robe. . . . All round are a number of small shrines, each containing its god and having its own name and cult, and some of them also their own springs. . . . [8.8.6] The people of Hispellum, to whom the deified Emperor Augustus presented the site, maintain a bathing place at the town’s expense and also provide an inn.25 It is interesting that the modest facilities centered around various water sources at the Amphiaraion and at Hispellum did not include large, communal baths and pools as we see commonly at major thermo-mineral sites. These sanctuaries, though they included healing among their attractions, were not full-fledged spas or athletic centers (though games were celebrated at the Amphiaraion); rather they were oracular centers that emphasized cure by prescribed sacrifice, incubation (dream therapy), and simple drinking regimens.26

as k l ep i ei on at Me ssen e 24. Mee and Spawforth 2001, pp. 123–128. 25. Trans. B. Radice, Cambridge, Mass., 1969. 26. For an informative discussion of ritual and curative bathing in Greek sanctuaries during the Roman era, see Scheid 1991.

Bathing as a part of the cure seems to have been marginalized also in the Sanctuary of Asklepios at Messene—as it usually is in all major Asklepieia. The Late Hellenistic complex appears to have subsumed religious and civic functions around an impressive and monumental quadriporticus (ca. 70 × 70 m) in the center of which rose the Doric temple of Asklepios (or of Messene, the city’s eponymous heroine). As in the Amphiaraion, the baths must have served the ordinary washing needs of sanctuary visitors

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(most, probably, traveled from afar) as well as for ritual ablutions necessary before sacrifice, incubation, and sacred banquets. Thus, the poorly preserved baths are not included inside the main precinct. A rather simple establishment of the 2nd century b.c., the baths are situated on the sanctuary’s margins, on a lower terrace outside the south precinct wall, but with easy access to it.27

Sanct uary of Zeus, n emea Other important sanctuary sites whose use continued unbroken during the Roman era, such as Delphi, Epidauros, Eleusis, and, of course, Isthmia, received one or more heated baths, distinguished by large, social halls. A notable exception is the panhellenic sanctuary of Zeus at Nemea, which boasted an unusual and elaborate 4th-century b.c. Greek bath independent of a gymnasium-palaestra complex. A rectangular block (36.5 × 20 m), composed of two generously proportioned, square rooms, one of which contained a large swimming pool (7 × 6 m), and two rooms for wash basins, was served by a technically advanced water-supply and reservoir system. This well laid out bath, however, was never renovated to include a heating apparatus. The relative obscurity of Nemea during the Roman period, when the games were transferred to Argos, must have contributed to the absence of any heated bathing facilities on-site.28

Po PuLar nat ure oF GreeK san C t uari es In order to understand and appreciate the relevance of baths to sanctuaries we need to adopt a more inclusive view of the nature of the Greek sanctuary. Despite a commonly held impression, a sanctuary was not purely a place removed from worldly activities and concerns. Although strictly defined as a piece of land cut off and dedicated to a deity, the hieron was a realm where the sacred and nonsacred, this world and the hereafter, overlapped.29 With the possible exception of some remotely located small shrines devoted to obscure local cults, most sanctuaries, especially the panhellenic ones, such as Isthmia, were dedicated to major deities and had a broad appeal to large populations. They teemed with people and activities. Many, after a brief hiatus, bounded back to life and new popularity during the Roman era. Activities in such a sanctuary, besides those subsumed under the general category of worship and sacrifice, were diverse. Primary among them were athletic, literary, and musical competitions, sacred games, and festivals. Corollary to festival and sacrifice was ritual dining, eating, and drinking. Competitions and festivals attracted large gatherings and engendered performance—drama, poetry, music, and display of arts (Hdt. 5.71). Another primary concern was the public and private use of a sanctuary as a place of refuge and asylum. Aside from cases of individuals seeking political asylum, the suppliants often made up very large groups, as in the case of 300 boys who took refuge in a sanctuary of Athena in Samos

27. Mee and Spawforth 2001, pp. 246–250. 28. Miller 1990, pp. 110–117. At an equally remote sanctuary, the Asklepieion of Gortys in Arkadia, the situation was somewhat different. The sanctuary authorities resisted building a fully fledged Roman bath, restricting themselves to several renovations of the Hellenistic-era baths to introduce a well-functioning heating system with a hypocaust. See Ginouvès 1955, 1959. 29. Renfrew 1985, pp. 16–17; Motte 1986, p. 117; Schumacher 1993, p. 74.

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30. Sinn 1993, esp. pp. 95–97, 103; Marinatos 1993, p. 232. 31. For Olympia, see Schleif and Eilmann 1944 and Mallwitz 1972, pp. 77–117; for Samothrace, see Lehmann 1983; for Thermon, see PECS, pp. 910–911, s.v. Thermos (N. Bookidis) and Polyb. 5.7–8; for Nemea, see Miller 1990, pp. 75–131, fig. 10. 32. Sinn 1993, p. 107.

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(Hdt. 3.48), or the inhabitants of whole towns or islands (including their belongings and flocks), who sought protection during wars for extended periods of time (Xen. Hell. 4.5). Even the official procedure of requesting protection, the performance of the rite of hiketeia, was a time-consuming process.30 As in any gathering where there is a captive audience, often isolated from other centers of consumption, sanctuaries attracted trade and commerce, becoming, in effect, important extraurban markets for goods, services, and recreation. Their sacred and public nature made them natural places for the display of laws, decrees, agreements, offerings, and statuary; they were repositories of communal memory. One could imagine a major sanctuary like Olympia or Isthmia—besides housing the athletes and their trainers, priests, attendants, and caretakers—teeming with visitors, pilgrims, travelers, groups of suppliants, political envoys, artists, performers, merchants, job seekers, slaves, hucksters, thieves, and occasional patients and doctors. While games and festivals, especially the two-year or four-year calendars of the panhellenic centers, created exceptional and cyclical swells in the population and events, the use of sanctuaries continued unabated throughout the year. Quite apart from the sizable permanent staff of priests and caretakers, and athletes in training, the groups listed above had to be housed and fed. Archaeologically speaking, many sanctuaries have left evidence of this in the form of a wide variety of buildings besides temples, treasuries, and altars that provided for these secondary needs: stoas, inns, guesthouses, club rooms, shops, cookhouses, fountains, and, of course, baths, of the heated and unheated variety. Some of these services must have been met by simple temporary structures—tents, shacks, colonnades, and shelters made of perishable materials—forming a “village” outside and around the temenos. Typically, sanctuaries contained an inner precinct of temples and altars surrounded by an outer, larger precinct, often separated from the core by architectural or topographical features—walls, terraces, stairs, hilltops. A welldeveloped sanctuary, such as Olympia, had extensive subsidiary structures just outside the walled-in core defined by the temenos (the Altis), but still within the overall sacred precinct. At Samothrace there is a mixture of cultic and functional buildings including a 106-meter long, two-aisled, Doric stoa from the Roman period for visitors. Several stoas even longer than this dominate the Sanctuary of Apollo at Thermon. At the Amphiaraion, the sacred zone of the sanctuary is located on the northern banks of the river while the southern bank, reached in antiquity by a bridge, was reserved for the lodgings and inns of pilgrims and patients. Likewise, much of the sacred precinct south of the Temple of Zeus at Nemea is occupied by guest facilities, dining halls (oikoi and xenona), and the unheated but elaborate baths.31 No doubt more of these subsidiary structures would come to light if excavators expose the larger outer precincts of sanctuaries with the same interest they lavish on temples and cult halls. Indeed, as Sinn has pointed out, the “true significance” of the Greek sanctuary was not described by their popular image as pure and pristine retreats removed from life, but as busy centers closely linked to the everyday world of the people.32

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BatH inG n eeDs in a s anC t uary What were the specific bathing needs in a sanctuary and how were they met? Bathing in a Greek sanctuary (and during its Roman use) can be reviewed under five major headings: (1) ritual or cultic bathing and washing; (2) washing or bathing as a prelude to cult dining; (3) bathing of athletes; (4) bathing for pilgrims, travelers, local magistrates, and visitors (who often arrived at the sanctuary after an arduous trip and planned to stay long); (5) bathing for suppliants (who also often stayed long). In addition to these there were special sanctuaries dedicated to healing, such as Asklepieia (where cure methods seldom included major thermo-mineral bathing but rather a sort of dream therapy or incubation), but more importantly, fully developed thermal sites such as Baiae in Campania, Italy, Bath (Aquae Sulis) in England, or the recently excavated Allianoi in western Asia Minor, where curative bathing was the central activity and where therapeutic bathing came under the aegis of Asklepios and/or local deities who protected the sacred waters. The first two categories, bathing and washing as a part of the cult ritual and a prelude to dining, can be subsumed under one heading since their architectural requirements were similar and simple. Ritual washing could take place in the open, or in a small room set aside for this purpose, with or without a basin or terracotta tub. There need be no elaborate provision for heating the bathwater or the room. In the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore at Corinth many of the dining rooms for the cult (dating from the 4th to the 2nd century b.c.) were connected to small, simple bath chambers with drainage and slightly raised platforms. Some of the larger bath chambers could have been used for complete body ablutions.33 In ritual bathing, while the intent of washing was mainly symbolic, the act was real, though simplified. Real and thorough were the washing needs of athletes in the gymnasium since ancient athletics required the smearing of the body with oil and special powders and dust. Although representations of athletes on Attic vases washing and scraping their bodies with a strigil portray fairly primitive arrangements, the cold-water washing facilities of the Greek gymnasium (the loutron) could be quite elaborately conceived, as seen at Nemea. In major sanctuaries, such as Olympia, Delphi, Messene, and Isthmia, specialized bathing facilities, sweat or steam baths, or large, openair swimming pools, existed outside the loutron of the palaestra proper.34 Starting with the 1st century b.c., and increasing under the influence of Roman bathing habits, the simple washing facilities of many traditional gymnasia and palaestrae were renovated or replaced by hot-water baths.35 The fourth and fifth categories, bathing of visitors and suppliants, are the ones to which the Roman Baths at Isthmia and many other roughly contemporary sanctuary baths belong. In their architectural outlay and heating technology, these independent establishments are virtually indistinguishable from regular, city baths. Composed of large, vaulted halls for cold and hot water bathing, communal pools, lounges, and vestibules, they served the bathing needs of large groups of visitors and suppliants, as well

33. Bookidis 1993, esp. p. 52; Ginouvès 1962, pp. 151–159. Comparable to the dining rooms at the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore at Corinth are a pair of artificially created caves at Isthmia used through the 5th and 4th centuries b.c. These underground dining facilities were probably associated with a chthonic cult or the worship of a local hero, but no direct connection to bathing seems to be indicated (Gebhard 2002b). 34. Yegül 1992, pp. 17–21. 35. Yegül 1992, pp. 21–24; 1975, pp. 30–38; Delorme 1960, pp. 244–245.

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Figure 12.14. Proaskeion Baths, nikopolis. F. Yegül

36. Chrysostomou and Kefallonitou 2001, pp. 50–51. For the site in general and bibliography on excavation reports by Greek archaeologists, see PECS, pp. 625–626, s.v. Nikopolis (A. Weiss).

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as permanent residents, such as the administrators, priests, and caretakers of a busy sanctuary. Since even the renovated and modernized hot-water washing facilities of gymnasia were quite primitive compared to these fully fledged Roman baths, one could imagine that they would have attracted athletes as well. And in some cases, as at Isthmia and Olympia, pools and loutra of an original Greek gymnasium might even have been obliterated by the Roman bath. The location and relative significance of baths in the physical context of a sanctuary, and their relation to its other functions and facilities, varied. At Olympia, the most extensively built up, and perhaps most intensely used of all Greek sanctuaries, we have some half a dozen or so baths of the Roman period. These are distributed within the periphery of the sanctuary, but just outside the walled central sacred zone of the site. The Kladeos Baths and the East Baths were both annexed to contemporary guesthouses. The former are located immediately southeast of the palaestra and the gymnasium and next to the earlier, Greek baths; the latter, south of the stadium, must have been convenient for athletes and competitors using this facility. The South Baths, located just east of the Leonidaion, the extensive “hotel” building of Olympia, must have served mainly the visitors. The Large Southwest Baths might have been a bath and an athletic club; the same can be surmised for the Proaskeion Baths at Nikopolis (Figs. 12.14, 12.15), a monumental and creatively designed complex laid out at the edge of Apollo’s Sacred Grove, the busy site for Augustus’s Actian Games.36 The East Baths at Delphi are situated outside and next to the temenos wall, but separated from it by a narrow lane; they were thus easily and directly accessible from the sanctuary. At the lower, entrance level, they could also be reached by visitors coming from the south. The Northeast Baths and

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the Baths of Asklepios (or the Baths of Senator Sextus Antoninus) at the Sanctuary of Asklepios in Epidauros are both centrally located, facing the main plaza of the sanctuary. Both were Roman additions to the site, built over earlier Greek structures which were incorporated into their design. At Isthmia, a second, smaller bath (not explored) located conveniently at the eastern end of the Hellenistic stadium must have answered the growing needs for bathing at the sanctuary, especially during the Roman period. The Roman Baths at Eleusis are one example that might provide useful clues to the relationship and use of baths vis-à-vis the rest of the secondary functions serving the sanctuary. Placed outside the walled-in temenos of Demeter, but right at the main entrance, these baths beckoned the visitor to enter the sacred ground. Their familiar and prosaic outline hidden by the southeast (Antonine) arch, they were close to but removed from the paved, elegant plaza with its temples and altars, but easily accessible as the first building on a street leading to the city occupied by shops, inns, hostels, fountains, and at least one other, smaller public bath. This busy street was clearly an important part of the service infrastructure of the popular sanctuary. None of the businesses clustered there appear to have been formal or official parts of the sanctuary, but simply free enterprises responding to the everyday, and year-long, needs generated by goddesses’ priests, servants, and visitors.

sanC t uary oF P oseiD on at i s tH Mia Located near the main roads between mainland Greece and the Peloponnese, the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia, the “meeting place and market of all Greece and Asia” (Livy 33.32), was one of the four panhellenic shrines of the Greeks. More importantly, the road connecting Corinth to the Isthmus and to the port of Kenchreai ran along the ravine skirting the northern side of the sanctuary. The course of this heavily traveled road even invaded the sacred center of the temenos during periods when the

Figure 12.15. Proaskeion Baths, nikopolis. Photo F. Yegül

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37. Isthmia II, pp. 1–7. 38. Gebhard 1993a, pp. 154–156; for the continuing importance of the sanctuary during the Roman Empire as a venue for international political assemblies and its concomitant identity as a market place, see esp. pp. 165–169. Victorious over Philip V of Macedonia, the Roman general Titus Q. Flamininus announced the freedom of Greece to the assembly that had collected for the Isthmian Games of 192 b.c. (Plut. Flam. 10.3–11). For a general account of the site and its topography, see Isthmia II, pp. 1–7. For the MelikertesPalaimon cult at Isthmia, see Gebhard 2005. 39. The transformation and continuity of rural pagan sanctuaries into the religious and commercial panegyris, widely popular in the Byzantine world and after, point to one of the important ways in which the Christian church inherited and perpetuated the popular pagan institutions in revised forms. The Byzantine panegyris (commonly connected to a shrine of a local holy man or saint) was revived in Anatolia during the medieval Turkish-Islamic period as panayir and continued to play a significant and popular role in the social, commercial, and recreational life of Christian, Jewish, and Muslim populations; see Vryonis 1981. For the classical background of panegyreis, see Nilsson 1940, pp. 13–18; 1957.

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use of the sanctuary was eclipsed. At least one branch of the road, however, might have run through the sanctuary in all periods. Besides Poseidon and Amphitrite, and Melikertes/Palaimon, the main honorands of the sanctuary, there were many other deities, such as Demeter, Kore, Dionysos, Artemis, Helios, Eucteria, and Hades, whose cult places were outside the core, but nearby, clustered within a walled temenos called the Sacred Glen. Easily accessible from land and sea, Isthmia was an ideal roadside shrine whose unique location made it a natural assembly place for religious, athletic, commercial, recreational, and political gatherings.37 It is logical to assume that the sanctuary acted as a magnet that attracted crowds during, as well as outside, the two-year cycle of games. As told by Dio Cocceianus (Discourses 8), during Diogenes’ imaginary visit the sanctuary was teeming with the noise and bustle of crowds—philosophers, poets, lawyers, peddlers, and tricksters; the description is probably based on Dio’s own observations sometime late in the 1st century a.d.38 For all its obvious geopolitical and religious importance, the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia remained architecturally relatively simple. Contemporary with the rebuilding of the Theater in the Antonine era, the Baths were among the last major additions during its final Roman expansion. Located on the southern edge of the Northwest Ravine, the large structure was some 100–120 m downslope from the temple platform (and about 350 m from the Later Stadium), sufficiently removed from the ceremonial heart of the religious complex, yet still a part of it. Its connection to the sanctuary was mainly from the south, by way of the Theater. Sharing facilities and services, as well as a large open space, a palaestra or a “plaza” between them, the Baths and the Theater appear to have formed a kind of “entertainment complex.” The Baths were also approached directly by the busy Corinth–Isthmus road. A second link to certain facilities located at the northern edge of the sanctuary (by a pathway or road following the later course of the Hexamilion) might have existed on the northeast, since the building had a secondary entrance at this location. Although the existence of the Greek pool with its firm, convenient platform must have been an important factor in siting the Roman Baths, the planners took care to provide easy linkages between the outside world of local villages and markets that formed clusters around the magnet created by the famed sanctuary—a world which continued to exist long after the religious use of the sanctuary had been terminated by the 5th century a.d. As Poseidon’s great shrine waned, habit, convenience, and no doubt the remains of a still partly functioning core of amenities, as well as a still partly functioning paved road connecting it to an important harbor, must have made this popular establishment a center of local, even regional, importance. It is ironic that sanctuaries often lived beyond the religious life they were designed for, and were often revived in Late Antique and Byzantine times as popular regional emporia and panegyreis.39 Our baths, with many of their great vaults intact, and their heating system still partially functional, were perhaps the most substantial and attractive item on a diminishing menu of extraurban offerings—an offering whose own waning life, like the old sanctuary’s, found renewed meaning in memory and symbol.

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sanC t uary BatHs as P LaCes oF as s eMBLy: MeMo ry anD sy M BoL The predominant, though not exclusive, planning characteristic of sanctuary baths was the main hall (“social hall”) that was integrated into, and even surpassed, the primary use and experience of the institution as a bath, well exemplified by the “Nereid Hall” (or room VI) of the Isthmia Baths. So diverse and distinctive were the social and ceremonial functions assumed by these halls that many evolved over time into a number of broadly related architectural variants. No doubt responding to changing bathing habits, even the palaestra and the frigidarium were absorbed into the main hall. It may be difficult to recognize in the sumptuously decorated rectangular halls of these baths of the Roman period the grande salle of the Late Antique, Byzantine, and Early Islamic baths, such as the hunting lodge and a bath combination of the Umayyad period at Qasr al-Amra in Jordan where the tall, basilical, main hall is decorated with paintings that freely mix themes of pagan and Islamic inspirations: scenes of bathing and hunting overlap with political and dynastic subjects.40 The wide range of settings and the activities imagined for the sanctuary baths in Roman Greece are hauntingly similar to the settings and activities associated with the Bronze Age aristocracy of Greece revealed through Homeric descriptions. This understanding is indeed a long shot—whose justification belongs more in the realm of atavistic memory than ordinary channels of cultural diffusion—but, could one not perceive in the tall, spacious volume of the “main hall,” a memory and extension of the Bronze Age megaron? The main hall, like the megaron, creates a closed and complete world. Also like the megaron, it is contained and informed by secondary, serving elements—walls, peripheral passages, peripheral seats, columns, columnar screens, pilasters, alcoves, and niches. Its architectural autonomy is compelling but not exclusive. As the place for the king was designated by a throne at one end of the megaron, the place of honor in some of the more elaborate “main halls” was focused on an end wall with a podium, niche, or apse, as illustrated at Isthmia. Unlike the megaron, however, whose center was marked by a hearth, the center of the bath hall is hollow, signaling a sense of repose. Even a decorative highlight, such as the Nereid mosaic at Isthmia, which created a subtle core of visual and iconographical associations, did not alter this repose. Yet, bathing itself was only a small part of the social and recreational activities espoused by the “bathing life.” Conversation, storytelling, music, and poetry always were important quasi-cultural and quasi-artistic components of Roman life and the Roman bath. As the most commodious, perhaps the only, public hall available in an extraurban setting, the sanctuary bath hall must have assumed an increasing social importance. Straddling the religious and the secular, isolated from towns, the sanctuary bath and its main hall were the ideal place for assembly, whose recreational value was enhanced by its ethical purpose. The popular “main hall” and its traderpilgrim clients had replaced the mighty Bronze Age megaron, just as the folktale had replaced the grand epic of Homeric Greece and its heroes. For the mixed, cosmopolitan populations of Roman and Late Antique

40. Yegül 1993, pp. 111–113; 1992, p. 341, figs. 429–434; Musil 1907; Harding 1967, pp. 156–159; Grabar 1954, pp. 185–187.

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sanctuaries, the telling of traditional folktales—much like the great epics of the past and great literature of all periods—gave a sense of permanence to the fleeting moments in life. Perhaps the sharing of stories, experience, and memory in the cozy comfort of the bath hall even created a muchneeded social framework of relevance and proportion for the individual caught in the whirlwind of an insecure, fast-changing society. The silent, hallowed ground of the sanctuary, a place of assembly and transcendence, where the closeness of gods and heroes was still felt, and where the nexus of both worlds mixed, did not create the bath hall, or the hall-type bath, but inspired its creative use, and gave it permanence.

c hap ter 13

th e r om an B u i l d i n g s e ast of th e te m p l e of Pos e i d on on the ist h mu s by Steven J. R. Ellis and Eric E. Poehler

Half a century of excavations have shed much light on Isthmia’s sacred landscape, in particular its monumental structures: its temple precinct, theater, and Roman bathhouse.1 In the area to the east, however, are a series of much less understood buildings, where it was believed that Pausanias wandered in the 2nd century a.d., telling of a lineup of portrait statues of successful athletes from the Isthmian Games (Paus. 2.1.7); it was for these statues that this eastern area (known as the “East Field” or “East of Temenos”) was first excavated in 1970 by Paul Clement (Fig. 13.1 and Plan C). Finding nothing of what was expected, the excavations wound down a few years later, though not before a labyrinth of variously constructed walls was revealed (Fig. 13.2).2 In spite of the patent importance of these spaces and their associated activities to the operation of the sanctuary, the walls themselves have never been comprehensively delineated into recognizable buildings. The East Isthmia Archaeological Project3 undertook a systematic investigation of the standing architecture and recorded stratified deposits associated with these buildings to develop a spatial, chronological, and functional understanding of their place in the operation of a panhellenic sanctuary. The present study introduces the methodologies that were developed by the project to analyze a complex series of poorly preserved structures and highlights the earliest results.4 Through the identification and digital recording of the stratigraphic relationships among all of the walls, and by expressing these spatially through GIS, we are now able to 1. With much appreciation to the organizers of the conference for their kind invitation to present this research and for their generous offer to have it published. Ellis especially thanks Timothy Gregory for inviting him to Isthmia to undertake this research in the first place. This published version of the research is the product of excellent and dedicated work by several others (see n. 3, below), and our sincerest appreciation is extended to Karen Laurence, Allison Emmerson, and Kevin Cole.

2. Clement 1972, p. 227; 1973, p. 145. 3. The East Isthmia Archaeology Project was begun by Ellis (University of Cincinnati) and Timothy Gregory (Ohio State University). The research has since been advanced by the addition of Poehler (University of Massachusetts at Amherst), Karen Laurence (University of Michigan), Allison Emmerson (University of Cincinnati), Chris Cloke (University of Cincinnati), Syd Evans (University of Sydney), and not least Kevin Cole (Miami International Uni-

versity of Art and Design). The project is presently financed through the generosity of the Semple Fund in the Department of Classics at the University of Cincinnati. 4. Portions of this study were published previously in Ellis et al. 2008. Our project has since carried out a systematic study of the stratified contexts, and thus the present work updates some of the earlier results with new information and furnishes a more abbreviated outline of the methodology.

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define, for the first time, not only individual buildings but also significant phases of building construction. The delineation of structures has facilitated the reintegration of data from the original notebooks, which hitherto were difficult to reconcile with the standing remains. This revised approach to the built environment east of the temple precinct reveals an area of rather large and complex units in contrast to the conventional interpretation of a series of small and unimportant buildings; the most recent description is of a “bewildering array of walls and small rooms of a modest domestic settlement.”5 Moreover, we are closer to clarifying the spatial and social relationship between secular and sacred space at Isthmia, and to knowing something of the site’s operational infrastructure.

Figure 13.1. isthmia: aerial view of the east Field (top left), the theater (bottom), and the eastern portion of the temenos of Poseidon (top right), looking southwest. Valavanis 2004, p. 290, fig. 414

BaC KGrounD to tH e east is tH Mi a arCHa eoLo Gy P roJeCt Clement laid his first trenches through the East Field in 1970. His interest in this part of the Isthmian sanctuary was likely spurred by Pausanias, who, while traveling through the Corinthia in the mid-2nd century a.d., described his journey to the Sanctuary of Poseidon on the Isthmus. “As you go into the sanctuary,” presumably from the stadium, he tells us, “there are portrait statues of athletes who won at the Isthmian Games, and some pine trees in a line, mostly growing straight up” (Paus. 2.1.7). Believing the road must have passed through the area of the East Field on its path to the temenos through the Southeast Propylon, Clement laid out a series of trenches from 1970 to 1972 (Fig. 13.3).6 The majority of these trenches

5. Wohl 2005, p. 211. 6. Isthmia II, pp. 77–78; Clement 1973, p. 145.

roman buildings east of the temple of poseidon

Figure 13.2. the labyrinthine walls of the east Field, looking northeast. Photo S. Ellis, courtesy East Isthmia Archaeology Project

Figure 13.3. overview of the east Field showing the trenches excavated by Clement: 1970 (red), 1971 (blue), 1972 (green).

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were rectangular, 3 × 10 m, and usually laid out in a northwest–southeast or northeast–southwest direction, presumably to follow or to intersect the retaining walls of the earlier (Classical-period) stadium, which were already known, or to transect other long features. The northwest–southeast orientation of the trenches would be rigidly maintained for subsequent excavation seasons despite the appearance of substantial archaeological remains that were exposed across several trenches, thus making their examination and interpretation often very complicated and difficult. Instead of Pausanias’s path, with its statues of victorious athletes, Clement uncovered the inadequately built and poorly preserved walls of small Roman buildings believed to be—with almost palpable disappointment—just simple houses.7 Equally dissatisfying was the overall layout and organization of the structural remains, for which neither complete nor partial plans were recognizable.8 This forlorn sentiment has since served as a veritable epithet for the excavations of the East Field. A notable and particularly frustrating aspect of the site, and one that has hindered (unpublished) attempts over the past three decades to unravel the architecture, is that the identifiable walls rarely can be seen to define a complete room, let alone a whole building. While most of the extant walls conform to the orientation of the axis of the Temple of Poseidon on a more or less north–south/east–west axis, the overall appearance is higgledy-piggledy and generally formless, with not even the insides of premises being discernible from their exteriors. A more overt problem with reading the architecture of the East Field is that of chronology: not all of the walls we see today in the field and in plan existed at the same time in antiquity. Clement recorded his excavations in a series of trench notebooks in which the site supervisor described and sketched the daily discoveries of finds and features for each trench. While some care was taken to record the soil strata during excavation, especially with regard to the artifactual record, seldom was this information incorporated with the architecture and, importantly, rarely was the stratigraphic information of and between the walls ever recorded. While the architectural sketch plans give a good indication of the spatial arrangement of the walls for a particular trench, rarely do they ever indicate the chronological relationships among the walls, let alone give any sense of architectural shape for the area and its use. Instead, Clement made a preliminary examination of the various wall-construction techniques with the hope that the establishment of a wall typology that identified walls of similar or identical construction techniques and materials might be expected to reflect buildings that were erected at the same time. With the architectural shape of the site established, he might then be able to associate the identifiable buildings more meaningfully with any patterns of activity discernible from the recovered, but yet to be contextualized, finds record. Clement identified three types of wall construction in the East Field: (1) rubble and mortar, usually of good quality; (2) rubble and earth; and (3) rubble and mortar with plaster facing.9 He rightly recognized that these categories could be broken down yet further and that many walls exhibit more than one style, something he and his team attributed, very reasonably,

7. Clement 1973, p. 145. 8. Clement 1972, p. 227; 1973, p. 145. 9. Clement 1972, p. 227.

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to rebuilding. The logical progression of these ideas is that at least some of the wall types have chronological significance and that “period plans” might be constructed by plotting similar types of walls with others. Some of the more recent attempts to bring clarity to the East Field, particularly those as recently as the mid-1990s, followed this same logic, but aimed at advancing Clement’s observations by refining them and identifying close to a dozen wall types to discern the buildings and their phases. These efforts were equally met with frustration as they produced increasingly complex and misleading layers of information which served to confuse rather than to elucidate any real period plan of the site.10 The net result is that no discernible buildings have emerged from any of these attempts, let alone any genuine understanding of what activities took place across the area as a whole. Any understanding of a chronological development of this part of the site and how it might be integrated with the better-documented parts of the sanctuary has, therefore, also been difficult to come by. The spatial centrality of these buildings alone demands that we contextualize their identification, type, chronology, function, and role with what we know of the sanctuary at large.11 The importance of solving this puzzle can hardly be overstated.

a n e w aP P roaC H to tH e arC H i te Ct u re o F tH e eas t Fi eL D

10. For the very brief online accounts of these efforts, see the 1993, 1996, and 1997 preliminary reports of the Ohio State University Excavations (http://isthmia.osu.edu/reports/). 11. For the Roman-period buildings at Isthmia, particularly those flanking the temenos of Poseidon, see Isthmia II, pp. 67–112; Gebhard 1973, pp. 63–144; 1993b; Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998, pp. 420–444. 12. For a more detailed account of the following methodology, see Ellis et al. 2008.

A new approach was clearly needed to establish the structural and spatial shape of the East Field buildings.12 The first step was to undertake an on-site architectural field survey, including a new Total Station survey, to record information for each wall into a database tied to a GIS. Central to this methodology was the privileging of the stratified relationships among the walls. Recognizing the stratigraphic relationships between one wall segment and the next is an essential first step toward the necessary identification of large, individual construction events for the production of a phased plan of a site. These events, termed “wall construction units” in our methodology, reflect the construction of several walls in a single event— the creation, for example, of a room, a suite of rooms, or even an entire (albeit simple) building—and therefore help to disentangle this event from preceding and subsequent events. However, many wall construction units do not have a direct physical relationship with each other, and therefore have no observable stratigraphic relationship. In order to tie these masonry units together within a broader urban fabric it is necessary to turn to other forms of comparative evidence. Typological considerations, such as masonry construction techniques, choice of materials, and mortar types (Fig. 13.4), were used in combination with other analogical considerations, such as the alignments of the constructions, their symmetry, and the elevations of their foundation, destruction, and/or floor levels, in order to group wall construction units into larger units called subphases. These subphases constitute the first, basic, site-wide Harris matrix of the relative chronology of these buildings and provide the best sense of the shape of space.

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In order to move beyond the spatial definition of the site and to combine the subphases into the largest of our abstractions, the phase, information was necessarily incorporated from still other sources. The next step therefore involved the digitization and systematic recording of the original notebooks of Clement and his team, and of their photographic archive. This also involved the reformatting of that massive body of data to integrate with our own datasets so that all of the data could be more easily and more powerfully managed. The integration of preexisting datasets might ordinarily be the first step in working at a site with legacy data, but the lack of spatial information in the original excavation notebooks limits any ability to reconcile the isolated artifactual record with the standing architecture and their spaces. Our procedure is effectively enabling us to refit the original data—particularly the finds, their contexts, dates and usages, much of which was recorded in the Isthmia lot system—with the actual rooms and spaces of the buildings. The project is presently undertaking this phase of the research and it is hoped that we might soon incorporate the finds data to determine the function of the spaces where possible, and potentially to identify changes in use between the masonry subphases, as not all functional changes are represented by architectural changes.

tH e PreLiM inary resuLts The following results are organized according to their relatively “dated” subphases, although, as with so many archaeological sites, less is known about the latest and earliest phases, given that this site experienced fairly typical site formation processes; that is, the traces of recognizable architecture for the earliest phases were largely destroyed by nearly all subsequent building activities, while the latest constructions were more exposed to

Figure 13.4. stratigraphic and typological information gathered from a wall in the east Field. Photo E. Poehler,

courtesy East Isthmia Archaeology Project

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seasonal weathering than the subterranean remains in between.13 Even so, these results demonstrate how our methodology has generated the first sense of an architectural and spatial shape, as well as a relative chronology, for this part of the Isthmian sanctuary. From this foundation we can now hope to realize our ultimate goal of determining what kinds of buildings existed to the east of the Temple of Poseidon at Isthmia. Until the type and function of each architectural unit can be clearly identified, the individual structures are labeled and illustrated by different colors (e.g., the “blue” structure or the “green” building). These “colored” buildings point toward, but do not always represent, distinct phases; nevertheless, this delineation of buildings by color has certainly benefited our team’s preliminary efforts to recognize specific structures and their building sequences from an otherwise labyrinthine maze of walls. The results are still quite complex to read, but they mark a significant departure from previous interpretations of the site as just a single phase. Still, an important caveat for the reading of the following results is their preliminary nature. With the integration of the artifactual record over future seasons it is hoped that more secure date ranges can be applied to the relative phases, and that the use of certain spaces can be more readily identified. Even once the finds become available for analysis in some stratified context, from the survey of the notebooks it now appears likely that their interpretive value will be limited to the latest phases for the site. For while the survey of the surviving architecture reveals several phases of development over some significant amount of time, the excavations extended down only to the latest floor surfaces associated with the architecture. Simply, the architecture tells a longer history for the site than is covered by the reports of stratified contexts in the notebooks and, as a consequence, the recorded finds can only suggest a later date than what the standing architecture was built for. Some further excavation through some of these latest surfaces and into the earlier ones could allow us a fuller understanding of the origins of several buildings and help to contextualize them within the broader historic development of Isthmia.

Sub ph ase 1 ( g ray ; fi g. 1 3. 5)

13. It should be noted that this study presents field research undertaken between the 2005 and 2009 summer seasons. More recent research has been carried out between the 2009 season and the publication of this volume; those results are the subject of forthcoming publications. 14. For Roman buildings at Isthmia, see n. 11, above.

The earliest structural subphase is identified in just two walls in the eastern area of the excavated field that were destroyed for the construction of a subsequent building. Traces of a floor may also be attributed to this building. The paucity of these remains and their partial recovery have limited our understanding of the type of structure to which they belonged. A cursory examination of some pottery found by our project within the exposed foundations of this phase suggests a date in the 2nd century a.d.; a more detailed study of the complete ceramic record for the site is planned for the forthcoming field seasons. This date would correspond with other 2nd-century a.d. building activities across the site, though clearly a more reliable and tighter date could be derived from stratigraphic excavation.14 A tunnel was cut from above through the junction of the two walls during a much later subphase (subphase 12), indicating that the builders of the tunnel were probably unaware of the existence of this early building.

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Subphases 2–4, 7 (Blue/Turquoise Blue/Black; Fig. 13.6) In these subphases we identified several contemporaneous buildings, although they each appear to have been constructed separately and perhaps at marginally different times. As a collection of structures, this group represents a major transformation in the use of space within the excavated area. The earliest of these structures was the only one of these “new” buildings for which a clear physical and stratigraphic relationship to the earliest known phase was evident: the “blue” building (subphase 2) was built directly over the ruins of the earlier “gray” building (subphase 1). The alignment of this blue structure and the openness of its central space appear to have continued through later rebuilding (Fig. 13.7). A second structure was built at the same time, we suspect, and probably in association with this building. There is the possibility that these two structures may have been physically attached. For this reason we include the second structure in plan, but mark it as a different tone of blue, a turquoise color (subphases 3, 4; see Fig. 13.6). A series of walls across much of the southern boundary of the field were probably built together, perhaps as early as the blue building. This “black” walled subphase (7) appears to have served the important purpose of terracing, or simply leveling, this southern area where a manmade earthen slope had been formed to support the seating area of the sanctuary’s earlier (Classical-period) stadium. This stadium had gone out of use during the early 3rd century b.c.15 Rather than following the northwest–southeast alignment of the stadium, these terrace walls appear as a stepped, or zigzag formation, creating standard north–south and east–west right-angles that match the alignments of the subphase 2–4 buildings and with which

Figure 13.5. Subphase 1: plan and Harris matrix. E. Poehler, courtesy

East Isthmia Archaeology Project

15. Broneer 1962a, pp. 12–13; Gebhard and Hemans 1998, pp. 33–40, 43–44.

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Figure 13.6. Subphases 2–4, 7: plan and Harris matrix. E. Poehler,

courtesy East Isthmia Archaeology Project

Figure 13.7. Central space of the “blue building,” looking south. Photo S. Ellis, courtesy East Isthmia Archaeology Project

later structures could also be more easily aligned. This terracing therefore helped define much of the space to the north by leveling the area and establishing an important spatial alignment, in keeping with the temenos of Poseidon itself, and adhered to in subsequent construction phases. These terrace walls also served as portions of buildings, best seen in the southwest corner of the site, that would undergo some later rebuilding (see subphases 8 and 10, below).

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Su bphase s 5, 6, 8 , 9 (g reen/ Br own ; fi g. 1 3. 8 ) This next subphase, a series of constructions that maintain continuity with the standing remains of the “blue” (2–4) and “black” (7) subphases but were built sometime afterward, heralds a sequence of continuous building activities that served to define the overall spatial organization of the site until its wholesale destruction, sometime in the late 4th century a.d. It is now that we may begin to recognize the true scale of the site and its building program. Instead of the simple and isolated Roman houses imagined by Clement, we found large and extensive building complexes with interconnected hydraulic infrastructure that demonstrated a considerably sophisticated, and therefore probably a centralized, system of organization. The first of these is represented by the “green” walled structure(s) that filled in the central area between the earlier “blue” and “black” structures—subphases 5 and 6 (Fig. 13.8). These were at least two separate, but associated, large structures, both of which were very likely to have continued northward as far as the theater itself, more than 30 m away, as suggested by the recovery just south of the theater of precisely the same construction of walls on precisely the same alignment. Just to the south of the “green” structure a new construction (“brown,” subphases 8 and 9) reorganized the space once more, filling the area between the earlier “blue” and “black” buildings (Fig. 13.8). Little more can be inferred at this stage, other than to suggest that it was built as an attachment to the “blue” and “green” buildings rather than as an isolated structure, and served to organize a portion of the space between them.

Figure 13.8. subphases 5, 6, 8, 9: plan and Harris matrix. E. Poehler,

courtesy East Isthmia Archaeology Project

roman buildings east of the temple of poseidon

Figure 13.9. subphases 10, 11: plan and Harris matrix. E. Poehler,

courtesy East Isthmia Archaeology Project

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Sub ph ase s 1 0 , 1 1 ( P i n k /L av en der ; fi g. 1 3. 9 ) Much more significant developments can be recognized in the following sequence of building activities (Fig. 13.9). New structures were introduced at this time, and existing buildings rebuilt. In the southwest corner of the excavated site, these activities produced a new building, represented by the “pink” walls (subphase 10). New walls closed off the southern edge of the area that had originally been open, cutting across and over a large chute that provided access to what appear to be drainage tunnels. These walls essentially constituted a rebuilding of the early “black” building (subphase 7) at this time. The apparent extent of this rebuilding suggests major changes, or at least renovations, to a building in the southwest area. Additional construction in the southeastern quarter of the East Field occurred at about the same time as the “pink” walls were constructed in the southwest. The “lavender” walls of subphase 11 form a suite of southfacing rooms, and constitute one of the few places in the extant structural remains with a regular plan or a sense of order. In the eastern two rooms traces of facing plaster have survived in the corners and near the current ground surface, indicating that these rooms also had similar decorative treatment. Although the “pink” and “lavender” walls are physically separate, the similarity in their construction style (opus incertum with poor, mud mortar), as well as their similar stratigraphic relationships to other constructions (both were built after subphase 8 and before subphase 12), provides evidence for a flurry of building activity across the southern portion of the site. Moreover, the north side of these “lavender” rooms was planned to accord with preexisting architecture, serving to enclose and partition the

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remaining space between the southern wall of the “blue” building and its associated “brown” walls, and bounding the area to the west. The early “blue” building was reorganized for the first time by the removal of the small southwestern and northwestern rooms to further enlarge the central area. This property appears to have retained its original form, though access to the additional spaces to the west was probably added at this time.

Su bphase s 12–1 4 ( Yel l ow/o ra ng e; fi g. 1 3. 1 0 ) The first of two major destruction events for the area occurred in this phase, significantly differentiated by the fact that the first event served to reorganize space, while the second event served to destroy it entirely. This first event was difficult to recognize in the architecture alone—and seemingly so in the excavations of the 1970s—but was detectable through the reintegration of the notebook information with the standing remains. The event was characterized by a large leveling deposit (ca. 50 cm deep in parts) of what the excavators called “red” soil. This material buried many of the partition walls and fixtures of the southwest (“pink”) building, extending as far east as the structures of the “green” and “brown” subphases. The buried features were never replaced. Instead, the raising of the floor surface caused the once-partitioned space to be reopened once more, and probably led to a new entrance into a space further west of the “pink” building where we now witness a series of installations (our “yellow” subphase 12) that extended from here across the south side of the site and into the still standing “blue” building. This “blue” building seems to have held much spatial and functional significance through all of the subphases, and it now seems likely that some cultic activities were played out here throughout the life of the building. This is suggested by the cutting of a tunnel through the middle of the space, its entrance being located in the center of the room in alignment with—and perhaps directly facing—a circular masonry feature that might have been an altar (Fig. 13.11). The tunnel led 9.4 m toward the northwest, terminating beneath a small vertical opening adjacent to the circular feature. This opening plausibly had some functional connection to the circular feature, but, devoid of any steps, it appears not to have been a proper exit. Some scholars have identified this tunnel as a place of cult activity mostly because it does not seem to conform to any kind of secular use, but also for the distinct finds that were recovered from within and around the tunnel openings during excavation.16 Among this debris the excavators discovered a total of 28 lamps, dating from the 3rd to 4th centuries a.d., some of which might have once been placed within the small lamp niches that were cut into the stereo walls of the tunnel;17 some small sculptures, including a bearded male head (IS 1971-2; H. 11 cm), a female head (IS 1971-3; H. 15 cm), and a stele with three figures carved in relief (possibly nymphs, but rather unidentifiable; IS 1971-5; H. 21 cm);18 some fragments of a large vessel decorated with a snake (IPR 1970-80), which is unusual for Greece if not Isthmia itself;19 and a rare (for Isthmia) “hoard” of 97 coins, none of which were issued after 395 a.d.20 The nature of the finds

16. Marty Peppers 1978; Peppers 1979; Marty 1993; Wohl 2005. 17. Wohl 2005. 18. Isthmia VI, nos. 4, 5, and 90, respectively. For the identification of the figures in Isthmia VI, no. 90, see Marty Peppers 1978. 19. See, e.g., the krater (IP 363) recovered from the fill of the cistern in the West Waterworks that was decorated with two plastic snakes that slither up each handle to peer into the krater’s interior: Broneer 1955, pp. 122, 134, no. 30, pl. 52:d; 1971, p. 181. 20. See Beaton and Clement 1976.

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Figure 13.10. subphases 12–14: plan and Harris matrix. E. Poehler,

courtesy East Isthmia Archaeology Project

Figure 13.11. east Field at isthmia, entrance to the later tunnel, looking west. inset: circular feature, looking northwest. Photo S. Ellis, courtesy East Isthmia Archaeology Project

themselves is unique not only to the East Field assemblages, but also to the sanctuary itself. Moreover, of all the identifiable buildings and spaces in the East Field, this central area received the fewest structural modifications over time, a fact that might be explained as being a consequence of the important (perhaps also cultic?) activities that were undertaken here. With a fuller contextualized understanding of the building, we hope to be

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able to interpret the activities associated with these unusual features and finds more precisely. The circular feature is itself intriguing in that it may have replaced an earlier feature centered between the two corner rooms of the “blue” building’s earlier phase. Unfortunately, a significant section of the feature was very likely destroyed in the first excavations. This is inferred by its generally circular shape, except for the northeastern quadrant, which is either missing or was never built in the first place. It seems probable that the excavators destroyed this section unconsciously; the missing portion corresponds precisely with the line of the first trench that was cut through this area in the 1970 season. Moreover, the circular feature is not mentioned in the excavation notebooks. It was very probably related to the tunnel and, on the basis of its construction and mortar types, associated with the series of newly installed water features—represented on the plan in yellow (Fig. 13.10)—that channeled water between several different buildings across the site. Although not all of these “yellow” water features can be grouped together through any observable physical connection, they share exactly the same mortar type (based on the matrix of the mortar and its inclusions), as well as the same construction style. If so, such a modification to the hydraulic infrastructure of the site—across a large space and affecting several buildings—might support the notion of a centralized organizational authority. The final additions to the areas west of the “blue” building, shown as “orange” (subphases 13 and 14), likewise have no physical relationship to each other, nor do their construction styles, mortars, or even building materials match. However, their stratigraphic relationships place them both in the last phases of the site. More importantly, they complete the subdivision of this area and mirror each other by creating a set of small rooms which may have permitted communication among them from north to south, along this western side of the “blue” building. These wholesale developments in the southern part of the site represent the final structural and spatial changes before all of the buildings across the East Field were destroyed during a single, massive event. The destruction material is characterized stratigraphically by the deposit of a light-colored earth (the excavators often describe it as “white”) that was found in almost every trench in the East Field. The whiteness of this material may indicate that it was primarily composed of ash, though the excavators never directly mentioned this conclusion. In any case it is clear that this material represented a destruction event; datable fill, pulled from the tunnel, suggests that it occurred in the late 4th century a.d. Of considerable importance to this discussion is the hoard of 97 coins, mentioned above, that Clement uncovered in the East Field. Of these, 76 were datable, and none of these were struck after a.d. 395, leading him to believe that the hoard, found within the “fill,” must be associated with the invasion of Alaric in a.d. 396.21 It was, in any case, an event after which no building activity immediately replaced the structures that were destroyed. More work must be done in subsequent field seasons to determine the contextual stratigraphic validity of this material so that we might refine the date and cause of this important episode in the East Field.

21. Beaton and Clement 1976, p. 277.

roman buildings east of the temple of poseidon

Figure 13.12. subphases 15, 16: plan and Harris matrix. E. Poehler,

courtesy East Isthmia Archaeology Project

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Sub ph ase s 15, 1 6 ( red; fi g. 1 3. 1 2) After the site was destroyed, some time appears to have passed before a new series of structures was built from the ruins. The earlier structures were either dismantled, or the accumulating soils that had partly, or entirely, buried them were leveled for this new period of activity. As one of the final episodes of identifiable activity, however, much less can be said about these latest developments. Still, it is significant that these new “red” walls followed the earlier, yet now clearly defunct, alignment. One pattern that was revealed in this phase, but especially in the next, is that the quality of wall construction had declined dramatically. While poorer mortars had been utilized in the later rebuilding of the “pink” phase, the good-quality lime mortar of the earlier walls (subphases 8 and 9) gave way to a considerably poorer-quality mud mortar. The masonry also seems less carefully chosen and worked.

Sub ph ase 1 7 ( Mar o on ; fi g. 1 3. 1 3) The two final construction events (“maroon” walls), the last that are attested in the surviving remains and the excavation records, demonstrate that the alignment of buildings from the three previous phases was abandoned. Whether this was a conscious decision or not remains unknown. As with so many of our questions for this final period, much information has been lost through the plow and also through natural erosion since their excavation over 40 years ago (Fig. 13.14). The pottery from this phase dates to the mid-7th century at least.

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Figure 13.13. subphase 17: plan and Harris matrix. E. Poehler, courtesy

East Isthmia Archaeology Project

Figure 13.14. Poorly preserved remains of a wall from the final surviving phase of the east Field. Photo S. Ellis, courtesy East Isthmia Archaeology Project

Co nCLusion This research is very much a work in progress, and the further interrogation of the notebooks and of the finds record will doubtless cause further revisions to this phase plan and its chronology, and to our understanding of the functions of some of these spaces. Even so, the East Field at Isthmia is now beginning to take shape for the first time since its discovery and excavation

roman buildings east of the temple of poseidon

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over 40 years ago. Our project has disentangled individual buildings from the maze of walls and returned them to their relative chronological order. This represents an important development in the archaeology of Isthmia. From this new shape of space for the East Field it is now possible to develop further and more sophisticated studies of this central area and to tie these developments into our synthetic understanding of the panhellenic sanctuary at large. One further, and still modest, contribution of these efforts is the utility of such an adaptive methodology to the many other understudied and misunderstood archaeological sites across the wider region that retain multiphased standing architecture along with various forms of the original excavation records. Our preliminary results indicate that much can be gained through such an approach to previously excavated material. Still, much remains to be done. In the following field seasons we will continue reworking the original data, cataloguing the finds, and reconstructing the individual trench excavations with as much detail as possible in order to reconnect the artifactual and architectural evidence. We might then hope to satisfy our ultimate aim of understanding not only the use and development of this part of the sanctuary, but also the roles these spaces played in the operation of the panhellenic sanctuary at Isthmia.

c hap ter 1 4

C or i n t h i an S u b u r b i a: Pat t e r n s of r om an Se t t l e m e n t on t h e i st h mu s by David K. Pettegrew

1. Strabo 8.6.20–23 [C 378–382]. See Pettegrew 2011. All illustrations in this chapter are based on data made available by the directors of the Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey. 2. For a compilation of relevant texts, see Murphy-O’Connor 2002. 3. The most famous example is Engels’s Roman Corinth (1990), which argued that the city’s economy was based principally on service to numerous Mediterranean travelers passing through the town. Engels dismissed agriculture outright because of the lack of evident centuriation patterns (at the time) and the commonly held view that refounded Roman Corinth was not a typical agrarian colony. He also held that Corinth’s exurban settlement was nucleated in towns and villages, and that smaller occupations were limited to a ring of suburban villas all within a mile of the city. Engels’s observations about both the absence of centuriation and rural settlement have proven incorrect. 4. Salmon 1984. 5. Romano 1993b, 2000, 2003, 2006; Doukellis 1994; Walbank 1997, pp. 100–103. Several textual sources (e.g., the lex agraria of 111 b.c.; see Walbank 1997, pp. 97–101) speak to the sale and use of Corinthian territory, but these are few in comparison with ancient discussions of the commercial properties of the Isthmus.

Since Thucydides wrote his famous account of the growth of Corinthian naval power (1.13.5), the Isthmus has been central to historical interpretations of the ancient city. In the Roman era, for example, every educated person knew that a narrow neck of land had shaped the rise and fall of the Greek city and the birth of the Roman colony. Writers like Strabo claimed that the city grew wealthy due to its position on a bridge linking the maritime worlds of Asia and Italy.1 Others linked Corinthian geography to the city’s port-town reputation, sexual immorality, and general loose living—so the proverb ran, “It is not for every man to go to Corinth.” In pinning Corinthian myth, image, and fortune on the city’s eastern landscape, writers of the Roman era followed earlier Greek writers in finding historical consequences in a connecting Isthmus.2 Given the frequent mentions of territory in ancient discussions of Corinth, it seems paradoxical that textual sources provide so little information about actual land use and settlement in the Greek or Roman era. Ancient writers discussed Corinthian territory frequently enough, but their interests lay in a few places like Isthmia, Kenchreai, and Lechaion that were famous by association with historical events and people. For example, when Pausanias described the route from Isthmia and Kenchreai to Corinth in the mid-2nd century a.d. (2.1.6–2.2.3), he noted nothing in between except for Helen’s Bath and a few noteworthy tombs. No writer of the Roman period gave serious attention to patterns of land use or habitation in Corinthian territory. Scholars who have read such sources literally have interpreted Corinth as a commercial town, lacking agricultural orientation and rural dwellings.3 Most scholars, however, have highlighted the biases of ancient sources and developed alternative views based on the study of the territory’s natural resources and archaeological remains. In his survey of the Archaic and Classical city, for example, Salmon argued that literary sources mislead: arable land, rather than commerce, was the fundamental economic resource base for the Hellenic city.4 Studies of centuriation patterns have shown the Roman colony’s agricultural orientation from its foundation, despite the near absence of written testimony.5 Other recent scholarship has pointed to the array of natural resources in the territory, such as timber, limestone, clay,

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honey, and marine resources.6 None of these resources appear prominently in the ancient textual tradition but each was an important component of the local economy. The archaeological investigation of regions has contributed to this discussion by producing independent and localized evidence for settlement and land use. Archaeological investigations in the Corinthia in the last half century have filled out the territory with towns, villas, farms, sanctuaries, churches, graves, baths, and fortification walls (Fig. 14.1). The investigations that brought these sites to light have included rescue excavations by the Greek Archaeological Service, official excavations by the Archaeological Service and Ministry of Culture, the American School of Classical Studies’s excavations at Kenchreai and the Isthmian Sanctuary of Poseidon, extensive topographic surveys by Sakellariou and Faraklas and Wiseman, and intensive surveys directed by Gregory, Kardulias, and Pullen.7 Yet, despite all this work and its implications for interpreting the social, economic, and cultural character of Roman Corinth, there have been few attempts to synthesize the findings.8 My purpose in this study is to fill a gap in modern scholarship by offering a summary description and interpretation of Roman settlement patterns on the Isthmus.9 The substance of this chapter is a discussion of the results of the Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey (EKAS) as they relate to patterns in (a) the chronology of land use during the Roman period; (b) the concentration and spatial distribution of settlement; and (c) the types of settlement (ephemeral occupations and farmsteads, villas, communities, and towns). In the final section, I argue that the patterns of settlement documented for the Isthmus—the intensive habitation and cultivation, numerous elite buildings, variety of habitation, and continuous built environment—are not “nucleated” or “dispersed” as scholars have often suggested, but rather, “urban periphery.” This study, then, introduces a new body of evidence relevant to age-old assessments of Corinth’s economy and establishes a building block for subsequent historical discussions and interpretations of the Roman city in its territory. 6. On Roman land use generally, see the summary of the Doxiades Institute ektistical study (Sakellariou and Faraklas 1971) in Walbank 1997, pp. 103–107. Limestone quarries: Hayward 1996, 1999, 2003. Clay beds: Whitbread 2003. Apiculture: Anderson-Stojanović and Jones 2002. Marine resources: Gregory 1985. 7. Extensive survey: Sakellariou and Faraklas 1971; Wiseman 1978. Intensive survey: Gregory 1984, 1985, 1986, 2010; Gregory and Kardulias 1990; Kardulias 2005; Kardulias, Gregory, and Sawmiller 1995; Tartaron et al. 2006. 8. Previous synthetic discussion for the Late Roman period has included Rothaus 1994; 2000, pp. 26–29; Gregory and Kardulias 1990; Kardulias

2005. 9. As Fowler noted long ago (Corinth I.1, pp. 49–50), writers of the Roman era adopted the term “Isthmus” to denote several overlapping spaces: (1) the narrowest restriction of the land bridge connecting the Peloponnese with central and northern Greece; (2) the Sanctuary of Poseidon and the site of the Isthmian Games; (3) the territory between Corinth and the borders of the Megarid; and (4) the territory of the Corinthia and the Megarid combined. My use of the term refers to the eastern territory between Corinth and the Megarid borders as far as Krommyon, demarcated by the Oneion mountain range to the south and by the Corinthian and Saronic Gulfs to the north and east.

corinthian suburbia

Figure 14.1. Map of sites with locations of eKas survey transects

10. Tartaron et al. 2006, pp. 464– 466. 11. For discussion of the survey methodology, see Tartaron et al. 2006, pp. 474–492; Caraher, Nakassis, and Pettegrew 2006.

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tH e e as tern Korin tH ia a rC H ae oLo G i Ca L surVey The Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey (1997–2003) marks the most comprehensive intensive survey ever carried out on the broader Isthmus. The EKAS project was designed to sample significant parts of six major drainage systems of the eastern Corinthia, but was limited by permits to work mainly in the region between Isthmia and Hexamilia, along the main ancient routes between the sanctuary at Isthmia, the harbor of Kenchreai, and the urban center at Corinth (Fig. 14.1).10 Even on the Isthmus, intensive survey did not extend north of the sites of Gonia and Isthmia. The data discussed in this chapter, then, derive from the survey of the lowland plateau of the Isthmus west of the canal. The EKAS project adopted tract-level siteless survey methods in which the distribution of artifacts rather than sites formed the means of analysis. Field teams spaced at 10-meter intervals walked transects across each unit, counting and recording the quantity and types of the artifacts observed.11 As the object of siteless survey is to map the distribution of artifacts across the territory, the method allows evaluations of Roman settlement in three new ways. First, the high-resolution method encourages the assessment of land use at the level of the artifact. Ceramic data stored in databases and linked to GIS programs can be queried and mapped according to various chronological and functional criteria. Distributional approaches, for

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example, allow the scholar to display and analyze the presence of ancientperiod cooking wares, Late Roman 2 amphora rims, or Roman red-slip ware across the landscape.12 Second, artifact densities were recorded for small survey “Discovery Units” (DUs), typically between 2,000 and 3,000 m2, spatially defined to respect geomorphological divisions in the landscape.13 These small units allow one to display the distribution and density of Roman material and single out the higher-density areas from the background noise. In the discussion that follows, I will examine changes in settlement patterns and land use by focusing on the 50 densest and most diverse units of Early Roman (ER) and Late Roman (LR) date (Figs. 14.2–14.5).14 The “50 densest units” represent those units with the highest overall artifact density, determined by dividing the sum of artifacts of Early and Late Roman date, respectively, by the area of the unit walked.15 The “50 most diverse units” are survey units with the greatest diversity of artifact types of Early and Late Roman date, determined by dividing the count of unique chronotypes of the Early and Late Roman periods by the area of the unit walked.16 Finally, distributional data allows one to define high-density concentrations of artifacts called “Localized Cultural Anomalies” (LOCAs).17 In EKAS, a LOCA was a descriptive and analytical category for designating a place in the landscape as significant. We defined LOCAs in the course of survey based on our impressions of exceptional artifact densities and unique features, and we defined LOCAs after fieldwork by quantitative analysis of density data. For the following discussion, I have created “Early Roman Density LOCAs” and “Late Roman Density LOCAs” to discuss areas of the countryside with the highest artifact density of each period (Fig. 14.6).18 I defined the LOCAs by taking the 50 densest units and then grouping all contiguous units. As some high-density units are close together, the process of grouping creates fewer, larger aggregates on the Isthmus (compare Fig. 14.6 with Figs. 14.2–14.5).19 12. For published examples, see Caraher, Nakassis, and Pettegrew 2006; Pettegrew 2007, 2010; Gregory 2010. 13. Tartaron et al. 2006, pp. 466–470. 14. The number 50 is arbitrary, but it serves to isolate the densest and most diverse areas from the rest. As there were 193 units with ER material and 577 units with LR material, 50 units form 25.9% of the units with ER pottery and 8.7% of units with LR pottery. See Pettegrew 2007, pp. 753–755, for further discussion. 15. Because artifact concentrations can be highly localized, small survey units may distort density assessments. For this reason, I have excluded survey units that are smaller than 800 m2 from the top 50 units. 16. For instance, in a survey unit that generated a LR assemblage con-

sisting of 25 combed-ware sherds, 3 spirally grooved sherds, and 2 African Red Slip form 99 rims, we would calculate diversity by dividing the unit’s diversity count (n = 3) by the area walked (in square meters). Defining ER and LR sites according to the diversity of material of the period quantifies types of artifacts per unit and minimizes the degree to which single classes of artifacts influence our picture of the period on the landscape; it is also a valuable index of the intensity of land use. 17. See Tartaron et al. 2006, pp. 485–492. 18. The size of these Density LOCAs ranges considerably, from about 2,000 m2 to 5 ha. The size of a LOCA is in part a product of the clustering of high-density units in the same area as well as the size of contiguous

units. An adjacent unit may have no LR pottery but still be incorporated within the LR LOCA grouping if it touches a high-density unit; hence, high-density units surrounded by large survey units will be extensive in size. As such, it is better to think of these LOCAs as high-density areas of significant investment rather than exact correlates to ancient sites like villas or villages. 19. There are many ways to define LOCAs, of course. Cf. Pettegrew 2008 for a definition of Late Roman LOCAs using the 50 most diverse units. This way of defining LOCAs changes the overall pattern of Roman sites on the Isthmus only slightly: compare Fig. 14.6 in this chapter with Pettegrew 2008, fig. 5.

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Figure 14.2. the 50 densest units with early roman pottery

Figure 14.3. the 50 most diverse units with early roman pottery

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Figure 14.4. the 50 densest units with Late roman pottery

Figure 14.5. the 50 most diverse units with Late roman pottery

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Figure 14.6. early roman (shaded) and Late roman (outlined) Density LoCas plotted against road corridors of the isthmus

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The following discussion offers an interpretation of Roman settlement on the Isthmus according to the presence or absence of artifacts, the density of material in small survey units, and larger areas of high artifact density. Because this descriptive approach to parsing the Roman landscape is more empirical than simply defining Roman “sites” and “villas” through subjective assessments of size and significance, it should enhance—if not problematize—previous assessments of settlement. Nonetheless, following descriptions of the chronology, distribution, and patterns of settlement, I will aim to translate such descriptions into interpretive categories like farms, villas, and communities.

Pat tern s oF ro Man se t tLeM en t an D La nD us e Chr on ol o g y of L an d U se

20. Tartaron et al. 2006, pp. 481– 483; Caraher, Nakassis, and Pettegrew 2006, pp. 21–26; Pettegrew 2007.

Intensive archaeological survey between 1999 and 2002 documented a dense carpet of artifacts on the Isthmus dating to the Early Roman (31 b.c.– a.d. 250) and Late Roman (a.d. 250–700) periods.20 The distribution of imported table wares, in particular, suggests a pattern of settlement growth that parallels that seen at Corinth, Kenchreai, and the Isthmian sanctuary. For the Early Roman period, EKAS recorded imported table wares in 82 (6.1%) of the 1,336 units surveyed. Few of these table wares date to the first one hundred years following Caesar’s foundation of the Roman

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colony; Eastern Sigillata A and Arretine wares were found in only 17 (1.3%) of the survey units. Most of the sherds date to the later 1st and 2nd centuries a.d.; Eastern Sigillata B appears in 55 (4.1%) of the survey units. This threefold increase in the number of survey units with imported pottery between the early 1st century and later 1st–2nd centuries accords well with a documented period of prosperity for Corinth, evident in its population growth, developing urban fabric, and commercial facilities.21 Indeed, the expansion also accords with Romano’s argument for a Flavian redivision of the territory and a new phase of colonization in the 70s a.d.22 The near total absence of imported table ware in the territory in the 3rd and 4th centuries finds some parallels in the weakness of imported table ware and amphoras at Corinth,23 and suggests abatement in interregional trade, if not real economic downturn.24 Only 3 of the 1,336 survey units (0.2%) yielded Çandarli ware or African Red Slip form 50, which marks a sharp contrast with both earlier and later centuries. In the 5th and 6th centuries, African Red Slip sherds (forms 99 and 104–106) and Phocaean ware sherds (forms 3 and 10) are found in 56 (4.2%) of the survey units, a figure comparable to the 1st and 2nd centuries. The expansion of units with imported fine wares indicates vitality of the territory’s settlement, which supports recent reappraisals of Corinth, the Isthmian sanctuary, and Kenchreai: the Late Antique town and its territory were not in decline but remained important in the political and commercial networks of the Mediterranean.25 The overall pattern of settlement spike in the 1st and 2nd centuries, abatement in the 3rd and 4th, and new vitality in the 5th and 6th centuries is different than that observed in other parts of Roman Greece. While the chronological data from EKAS confirms the picture of settlement expansion in the Late Antique period—well documented throughout Greece and the Aegean26—it simultaneously presents a different image of the Early Roman period. The Roman destruction of Corinth may have led to major restructuring of territory in the 1st century b.c., but the countryside was reinhabited again by the end of the 1st century a.d. In contrast with other Greek countrysides, the Early Roman Corinthia was not abandoned or nucleated.27

Conce nt rat ion a nd d ist r ib ut i on of S i te s an d Se t t le ments The EKAS project documented a pattern of Roman settlement denser and more continuous than previously estimated, with frequent concentrations of fine wares, cooking wares, amphoras, and lamps, as well as ancient building material and agricultural processing equipment. The distribution of Early and Late Roman artifacts suggests two general patterns: (1) there are two concentrations of settlements and buildings in the territory, which have some correlation to the major travel corridors and crossroads of the territory; and (2) the areas between these concentrations were frequently marked by sites of different size. We can begin with the first observation, the correlation between sites and the travel corridors of the territory (Figs. 14.2–14.6). The physical traces

21. For Early Roman Corinth, see Wiseman 1979, pp. 521–528; Walbank 1997. For Isthmia, see Gebhard 1993b; Gregory 1995; Gebhard, Hemans, and Hayes 1998. For Kenchreai, see Hohlfelder 1976; Kenchreai I–VI; Rife et al. 2007; Rife 2010. For Lechaion, see Wiseman 1978, pp. 87–88; Rothaus 1995. On the development of the maritime and commercial character of the Roman city in the later 1st and 2nd centuries, see Williams 1993; Slane 2000; Romano 2003, p. 298. 22. Romano 2000, 2003, 2006. 23. Slane 2000; 2003, pp. 330–331, 333–334, fig. 19:11. Imported table wares spike again in the course of the 4th century. 24. The dearth of easily recognizable imported pottery during these centuries may be partially to blame; see Pettegrew 2007, with further discussion in Pettegrew 2010. 25. For reassessments of Late Antique Corinth, see Sanders 1999, 2004; Rothaus 2000; Slane 2000, 2003; Brown 2005, 2010; Slane and Sanders 2005; Robinson 2011, pp. 265–275; Caraher (Chapter 16 in this volume). For Isthmia, see Isthmia V; Gregory and Kardulias 1990; Kardulias 2005; Isthmia IX. For Kenchreai, see Rothaus 2000; Rife et al. 2007; Rife 2010. For the territory, see Gregory 1985, 1994, 2010; Kardulias, Gregory, and Sawmiller 1995; Pettegrew 2007, 2008; Caraher (Chapter 16 in this volume). 26. Alcock 1993, pp. 33–49; Kosso 2003. 27. Pettegrew 2007.

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28. Wiseman 1978, p. 64. The parallel east–west marine terraces in the territory funneled traffic along several important routes: see Tartaron et al. 2006, pp. 470–473, 496, figs. 9, 10, 20. 29. Romano has posited several major Roman roads dating to the episodes of imperial land division and running oblique to the centuriation patterns: Romano 2003, pp. 290, 296–297, fig. 17:12. See Walbank 1997, pp. 125– 130, for roads in the immediate suburbs of Corinth. 30. Cf. Sanders and Whitbread 1990. 31. Caraher and Pettegrew 2012. 32. On the difficulty of defining “villas” and the variation of actual settlements, see Morley 1996, pp. 99–100; Alcock 1993, pp. 63–67.

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of Roman roads have rarely been found on the Isthmus outside Corinth, Lechaion, the Isthmian sanctuary, and Kenchreai, but scholars have estimated their locations through observations of topography and modern land use. Wiseman suggested that the topographic lay of the land dictates at least eight travel arteries across the Isthmus, all following natural corridors and paths of least resistance, and usually running along the same routes as the modern roads.28 Romano defined significant Roman roads through modern surveys of centuriation patterns visible in aerial photographs; these also closely follow the modern roads.29 Moreover, in addition to the major routes, there must have been many smaller intersecting secondary roads and paths in the Isthmian plain. The network of such routes, together with the harbors and ports of Corinth, made the Roman Isthmus one of the most connected territories in Greece.30 Figures 14.2–14.6 indicate that Early and Late Roman sites cluster at two major crossroads of the Isthmus. The high-density units and highdiversity units, as well as the Density LOCAs, are frequent immediately south and west of the Isthmian sanctuary and near Kromna and Perdikaria where roads meet from Kenchreai, Isthmia, Corinth, and points along the Corinthian Gulf. Our written sources are silent about this second crossroads, but it must have been one of the most important junctions of the entire eastern territory, dotted as it was with villas and houses, tombs, agricultural installations, limestone quarries, and shrines/sanctuaries. Despite these two major concentrations of sites, we must return to our second observation, namely, that Early and Late Roman material is present in most surveyed areas of the Isthmus. High-density and high-diversity survey units, for example, are found on the outskirts of Kenchreai, on the lower slopes of Oneion, south of the Perdikaria ridge, near Gonia, and throughout the Perdikaria-Kromna-Isthmia triangle. The highest-density units, moreover, exist against a patchy but continuous carpet of Roman artifacts in the Isthmian plain. While this background carpet represents only low to moderate densities of Early and Late Roman material, it nonetheless suggests settlement and land use marking lesser investment in the territory, including, for example, rural installations, seasonal habitations, rural activities without occupation, and short-term land use.31 The clustering of sites near Isthmia and Kromna-Perdikaria highlight two of the most important nodes on the Isthmus while the continuous carpet of ER and LR artifacts demonstrate the extent of buildings and settlement. This pattern of settlement concentration and continuity distinguish the territory from other Roman countrysides in Greece previously documented through intensive survey.

for m s of S e t tl emen t The descriptions of settlement discussed up to this point allow us to move forward cautiously in assigning interpretive and historical categories. There are, of course, many methodological and archaeological variables that complicate the interpretation of artifact scatters in the territory,32 but it remains possible to characterize the Roman landscape in general functional terms and to propose categories of habitation for those scatters.

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The most convenient way of discussing these settlement forms is to turn to the Density LOCAs of each period (Tables 14.1, 14.2, and Fig. 14.6), which produce a range of Early and Late Roman artifact types suggesting diverse activities. Approximately 74% (n = 14) of the Early Roman LOCAs yield ER fine ware, while 63% (n = 12) produce amphoras/storage vessels and 68% yield kitchen ware (n = 13). Of the Late Roman Density LOCAs, 100% (n = 26) produce amphoras/storage vessels, while 62% (n = 16) and 42% (n = 11) yield, respectively, fine ware and kitchen ware; Late Roman basins, lamps, and beehives occur with lower frequency. Examining the surface “assemblages” in Tables 14.1 and 14.2 reveals that most of the LOCAs (68% of ER; 65% of LR) produce more than one functional class of pottery, and about 37% of the sites of each period yield a full package of fine wares, kitchen wares, and storage vessels. This diversity suggests that most ER and LR LOCAs represent more intensive forms of rural habitation than low-density scatters. High-investment and long-term forms of occupation tend to leave more complex signatures of habitation in the landscape. The presence of buildings on the land is obvious from a broader range of ancient material that appears in varying frequencies at the LOCAs: tiles, tesserae, plaster, cement, nails, marble revetment, stone furniture, water pipes, window glass, and cut stone blocks and slabs (Tables 14.1, 14.2). These different artifacts and features cannot be dated precisely to the Early or Late Roman periods but must have been deposited in either the Roman period (31 b.c.–a.d. 700) or antiquity more broadly (800 b.c.–a.d. 700). It is reasonable to infer that this material belongs to the Early or Late Roman periods, especially when those periods form a significant proportion of the diagnostic artifacts recorded at the LOCAs (cf. final column in Tables 14.1, 14.2).33 The regular occurrence of ceramic roof tiles, marble revetment, and cut stone blocks and slabs at these locations provides the most direct evidence for buildings, while the artifacts and features together signify substantial economic investments in the land in the Roman era. Finally, there is consistent evidence for agricultural processing, production, or storage in most of these high-density areas (Tables 14.3, 14.4). Ancient pithoi are quite common and point to intensive agriculture and large-scale storage of grain. Millstone fragments, tools, and equipment (e.g., saddle querns and hopper mills) occur regularly at both ER (n = 8; 42.1%) and LR (n = 8; 30.8%) LOCAs and demonstrate on-site grain processing. Olive processing equipment is surprisingly uncommon, but there is some evidence for centralized processing near the crossroads at Kromna in the Late Hellenistic or Early Roman periods;34 the sizable olive crusher at LR LOCA 22 could indicate a similar phenomenon in the later Roman era. The general characteristics of the artifact patterns, then, suggest that Romans were intensively inhabiting the Isthmus, investing in buildings, and engaging in agricultural activities. These conclusions are hardly surprising, but do decisively contradict previous assessments of the Corinthia as uninhabited territory or lacking agricultural orientation. These patterns become more meaningful when we examine the diversity of artifact scatters in the Roman era and four thresholds of settlement represented in the survey area: (1) farmsteads and lower-investment occupations; (2) elite buildings, residences, and villas; (3) communities and settlement districts; and (4) larger towns.

33. The final column in Tables 14.1 and 14.2 lists all “narrow periods” of antiquity present at the site—Archaic (AR), Archaic–Classical (AR–CL), Classical (CL), Classical–Hellenistic (CL–HE), Hellenistic (HE), Early Roman (ER), and Late Roman (LR)— assigning percentages based on the total number of artifacts of each narrow period divided by the total number of artifacts of all narrow periods. There are problems with comparing periods on the basis of overall artifact counts (see Pettegrew 2007), but such comparisons provide at least some indication of whether a period is significant at a site. Nonetheless, in viewing Tables 14.1 and 14.2, one should keep in mind that the AR–CL, CL, CL–HE, and LR periods are well represented (due to highly visible pottery), while the ER period is underrepresented (due to low ceramic visibility); consequently, the actual proportion of the ER period should be significantly higher than the numbers in Table 14.1 suggest. 34. James (2005) has argued that the presence of a Late Hellenistic–Early Roman olive press suggests large-scale olive processing that could have accommodated the harvest of numerous trees in the area. Cf. Anderson-Stojanović 2007 for Isthmia.

X

X

3

X X

X

X

18

19

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

17

16

15 X

X

X

X

X

X

X

13

14

X

X

X

12

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

11

X

X

X

9

10

X

X

8

X

X

X

7

X

X

X

6

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

Tile

5 X

X

X

2

4

X

X

1

ER ER Cooking Ware Storage Vessels

ER Fine Ware

ER LOCA

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

Marble

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

Cut Stone

brick

cement, tessera

window glass

nail, cement, plaster, brick

water pipe

water pipe

window glass, water pipe

stone furniture, water pipe

Other

AR–CL (12.5%), CL–HE (12.5%), ER (18.8%), LR (56.3%)

AR (2.8%), AR–CL (15.7%), CL (3.7%), CL–HE (19.4%), ER (20.4%), LR (38.0%)

AR (2.2%), AR–CL (2.2%), CL (2.2%), CL–HE (64.4%), ER (11.1%), LR (17.8%)

AR (2.1%), AR–CL (33.3%), CL (25.0%), CL–HE (12.5%), ER (8.3%), LR (18.8%)

AR–CL (3.3%), CL (56.7%), CL–HE (10.0%), HE (3.3%), ER (13.3%), LR (13.3%)

CL (10.5%), CL–HE (5.3%), HE (5.3%), ER (15.8%), LR (63.2%)

AR (0.4%), AR–CL (7.9%), CL (9.5%), CL–HE (7.1%), ER (12.5%), LR (62.7%)

AR–CL (5.6%), CL (22.2%), CL–HE (16.7%), ER (16.7%), LR (38.9%)

AR (5.3%), AR–CL (19.0%), CL (2.3%), CL–HE (32.0%), HE (0.4%), ER (5.6%), LR (35.4%)

AR–CL (20%), ER (20%), LR (60%)

AR (8.5%), AR–CL (7.9%), CL (0.60%), CL–HE (30.0%), ER (5.5%), LR (47.9%)

AR (6.9%), AR–CL (17.2%), CL–HE (17.2%), HE (6.9%), ER (17.2%), LR (34.5%)

AR–CL (7.1%), ER (7.1%), LR (85.7%)

AR–CL (32.8%), CL–HE (10.9%), HE (1.6%), ER (23.4%), LR (31.3%)

AR–CL (9.6%), CL (15.3%), CL–HE (11.5%), ER (6.4%), LR (57.3%)

AR (3.2%), AR–CL (32.3%), CL (3.2%), CL–HE (22.6%), ER (3.2%), LR (35.5%)

AR (1.3%), AR–CL (7.8%), CL–HE (6.5%), ER (10.4%), LR (74.0%)

AR (5.3%), AR–CL (2.6%), CL (21.0%), CL–HE (15.8%), ER (26.3%), LR (29.0%)

AR–CL (9.3%), CL (15.0%), CL–HE (7.2%), HE (1.0%), ER (25.3%), LR (42.3%)

Narrow Periods Represented (% of Total of Narrow Periods)

taBLe 14.1. earLy roMan art i FaCts anD anCient BuiLDinG MateriaL s at ea rLy roMa n Den si t y Lo Ca s

X X X

X

X

X

13

14

15

X

X

X

12

X

X

X

X

X

11

X

X

X

9

10

X

X

X

8

7

X

basin

basin

basin, lamp

basin, lamp

X

X

6

X

X

X

X

5

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

basin

4

X

X

3

X

X

X

Tile

2

Other LR Ceramics X

LR LR Cooking Ware Storage Vessels X

LR Fine Ware

1

LR LOCA

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

Marble

X

X

X

X

X

X

Cut Stone

plaster

window glass

tessera

nail

tessera

window glass, water pipe

Other

AR–CL (24.0%), CL (14.0%), CL–HE (8.0%), LR (54.0%)

AR (0.7%), AR–CL (10.4%), CL (4.5%), CL–HE (9.0%), ER (11.2%), LR (64.2%)

AR (0.7%), AR–CL (6.3%), CL (14.7%), CL–HE (13.3%), ER (13.3%), LR (51.7%)

AR (1.3%), AR–CL (48.7%), CL (28.9%), CL–HE (9.4%), ER (0.3%), LR (11.4%)

AR (8.1%), AR–CL (17.6%), CL (4.1%), CL–HE (35.1%), HE (1.4%), ER (5.4%), LR (28.4%)

AR (16.7%), AR–CL (46.7%), CL (3.3%), CL–HE (13.3%), HE (3.3%), LR (16.7%)

AR (7.8%), AR–CL (14.7%), CL (0.5%), CL–HE (24.3%), ER (4.1%), LR (48.6%)

AR (2.2%), AR–CL (21.7%), CL–HE (32.6%), HE (2.2%), LR (41.3%)

AR–CL (7.1%), ER (7.1%), LR (85.7%)

AR–CL (20.5%), CL (15.9%), CL–HE (22.7%), HE (2.3%), ER (4.6%), LR (34.1%)

AR–CL (11.4%), CL (13.6%), CL–HE (11.4%), ER (4.6%), LR (59.1%)

AR (3.2%), AR–CL (32.3%), CL (3.2%), CL–HE (22.6%), ER (3.2%), LR (35.5%)

AR (1.3%), AR–CL (8.8%), CL–HE (6.3%), ER (10.0%), LR (73.8%)

AR–CL (23.8%), CL (19.1%), ER (9.5%), LR (47.6%)

AR–CL (66.7%), LR (33.3%)

Narrow Periods Represented (% of Total of Narrow Periods)

taBLe 14.2. Late roMan art iFaCts anD anCient BuiLDinG MateriaL s at Lat e roMa n Den si t y Lo Ca s

26

X

X

X

24

25

X

X

23

22

X

X

X

X

lamp, beehive

X

X

X

X

X

X X

X

X

X

X

20

21

X

X

X

19

lamp

X

Tile

X

X

X

18

X

Other LR Ceramics

X

X

X

LR LR Cooking Ware Storage Vessels

X

LR Fine Ware

17

16

LR LOCA

taBLe 14.2—C ontinued

X

X

X

X

X

X

Marble

X

X

X

X

X

Cut Stone

glass, plaster, cement

plaster

tessera

plaster

Other

AR–CL (15.6%), CL (9.4%), CL–HE (25.0%), ER (3.1%), LR (46.8%)

AR (4.2%), AR–CL (8.3%), CL (4.2%), CL–HE (41.7%), ER (8.3%), LR (33.3%)

AR–CL (6.5%), CL–HE (9.7%), ER (2.2%), LR (81.7%)

AR (8.0%), AR–CL (8.0%), CL–HE (16.0%), ER (4.0%), LR (64.0%)

AR–CL (28.6%), CL (20.0%), CL–HE (2.9%), HE (1.4%), LR (47.1%)

AR–CL (24.1%), ER (6.9%), LR (69.0%)

AR–CL (33.3%), LR (66.7%)

AR (8.0%), AR–CL (16.0%), CL–HE (12.0%), ER (12.0%), LR (52.0%)

AR (9.3%), AR–CL (34.3%), CL (3.3%), CL–HE (13.7%), HE (0.6%), ER (9.1%), LR (29.7%)

AR (5.5%), AR–CL (15.6%), CL (7.3%), CL–HE (19.3%), HE (2.8%), ER (3.7%), LR (45.9%)

AR–CL (28.6%), LR (71.4%)

Narrow Periods Represented (% of Total of Narrow Periods)

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taBLe 14.3. earLy roMan Densit y LoCas witH aGriCuLturaL equiPMent ER LOCA

Pithos

Ground-Stone Tool

1

X

X

Hand Stone

Saddle Quern

Hopper Mill

Rotary Quern

Millstone X X

3 4

X

5

X

6

X

7

X

8

X

9

X

11

X

12

X

13

X

14

X

16

X

18

X

X X

X

X

X X

X

X

X

X

X

X X

X

X

taBLe 14.4. Late roMan Densi t y Lo Cas wi tH aGriCuLt u raL eq uiPMent LR LOCA

Pithos

1

X

Ground-Stone Tool

Hopper Mill

Millstone

Trapeta

Olive Crusher

X

3 4

X

5

X

6

X

7

X

8

X

9

X

11

X

12

X

13

X

14

X

15

X

16

X

17

X

18

X

19

X

21

X

22

X

23

X

24

X

26

X

X

X

X

X

X X

X X X

X X

X

X

X X

X X

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Far m st ea ds a n d L ow er-Inv e st m en t Occu pat ions Survey documented many artifact scatters that represent peasant farms and other low-investment forms of occupation in the Roman period. The ER Density LOCAs 4 and 7 and LR Density LOCAs 1 and 6, for example, yielded only ER or LR amphora fragments, ancient pithoi, tile, and cut stone blocks or millstone fragments; absent are fine wares and elite-status objects like marble revetment. Other locations in the survey area such as the lower slopes of Mt. Oneion, the land surrounding Gonia, and the territory east of Kromna generated moderate artifact densities of ER and LR date that presumably represent habitations of low investment such as peasant smallholdings and tenant occupations.35 The EKAS teams also documented frequent low-density scatters of imported table wares, amphoras, and kitchen wares that bear no clear relationship to higher-investment sites like the LOCAs and do not clearly relate to processes like manuring. Low-density artifact scatters must represent forms of occupation and land use less intensive than the farmsteads discussed above, such as rural installations, seasonal habitations, and lowintensity or short-term rural activities.36 While it is impossible to categorize these scatters without excavation, we can be certain that they mark places where investments were neither steady nor intensive over the long term.

Eli te Bu il din g s, R e siden ce s, a n d Vil l as Most of the Density LOCAs represent former sites of substantial buildings, agricultural enterprises, and significant economic investment in the land. Comparing Tables 14.1–14.4, for example, shows that half of the ER (n = 9) and LR (n = 13) LOCAs produced an exceptional array of Roman pottery, frequent building material like tile, cut stone blocks, and marble revetment, and agricultural equipment such as pithoi and millstone fragments. Occurring together, these materials suggest that elite residences and buildings existed in these areas during the Roman period.37 One of the best examples of a villa documented in the EKAS area is LR Density LOCA 24 (Fig. 14.6; Tables 14.2, 14.4).38 Surveyors noted high artifact densities in the area, and further investigations and revisits revealed a strong Late Antique signature (81.7% of the diagnostic ancient material), with numerous amphora sherds, fine wares, kitchen wares, lamps, and medium coarse wares, some of which (e.g., narrow combed amphora sherds) date as late as the later 6th and 7th centuries. A variety of other ancient artifacts, such as Roman lamps and glass, along with various ancient building materials (roof tiles, plaster, marble revetment, and cut blocks), 35. Some of these areas, such as the slopes of Oneion, would certainly have been marginal land in antiquity, for which see Kardulias, Gregory, and Sawmiller 1995; Walbank 1997, pp. 105– 106; Caraher, Nakassis, and Pettegrew 2006, pp. 26–34. 36. There is a methodological problem inherent in identifying more ephemeral settlements from artifact

scatters. Tenant farmers and smallholders would have used a less varied ceramic assemblage that cannot easily be distinguished from other forms of land use such as storage facilities and seasonal farms. 37. It is important to keep in mind that these LOCAs represent aggregates of occupation through time, so it is possible, and even likely, that a farmstead

existing at the site during one century became a full-fledged villa in another. It is more helpful to think of these LOCAs as places of long-term and significant material investment. We can expect that all of these areas underwent development and change in architecture over the seven centuries of the Roman era. 38. This is the so-called Villa of the Pig Dog.

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strengthen the identification of this area as a Late Roman villa rustica. Finally, the presence of fragments of pithoi, millstone equipment, trapetum orbis, and beehive together suggests engagement in a range of economic activities on the land. Located near a major road between Kenchreai and Corinth, and at some distance (ca. 400–500 m) to another sizable Late Roman site, this villa clearly constituted the major building in the area.39 There are other Density LOCAs (ER/LR LOCAs 3 and 5; LR LOCA 26) that compare with the Villa of the Pig Dog in size, range of pottery, building material, and agricultural implements, as well as a degree of relative isolation in the landscape. Such villae rusticae, in fact, were apparently common on the Isthmus in the Roman era, as previous investigations have shown (see Fig. 14.1).40 Ongoing Greek excavations and study at Katounistra, for example, have uncovered an elite residence building of Roman–Late Roman date, complete with apsidal rooms, hypocaust bath, clay drains, exquisite imported columns, marble revetment, and polychrome geometric mosaic floors.41 Pallas’s excavations at Pano Magoula in the 1950s revealed an atrium-style villa that was smaller in scale but exhibited a colonnaded peristyle courtyard, large cistern, marble revetments, and olive press.42 Gregory’s publication of surface artifacts, architecture, and sites near Akra Sophia on the Saronic Gulf drew attention to a 4th–7thcentury a.d. seaside villa with a sizable building complex, potsherds and tiles, window glass, marble revetment and tesserae, a small bath, graves, and a built harbor work.43 The density of Roman villas documented in the EKAS area confirms earlier conjectures by Gregory, Kardulias, and Sawmiller that networks of villas must have existed in the eastern Corinthia.44 However, most of the LR LOCAs discussed above lack relative isolation. Indeed, the clustering of such sites in several areas of the Isthmus points to a third interpretive category, larger communities.

Commun it i e s: I st hmi a and Kr om n a -Perdika r ia Leaving aside the town of Kenchreai for the moment, there are two significant nodes on the Isthmus where the very high density of Roman habitation points to larger communities. The first is the site in the vicinity of the sanctuary and the second is the crossroads site that developed in the area of Kromna and Perdikaria.

Isthmia The Isthmian sanctuary was the most significant exurban site in the Corinthia in Roman times, located at a crossroads and with easy access to the Saronic Gulf. In the Early Roman period, the important shrine and Isthmian games made it a regular tourist destination; in late antiquity, it 39. Since the completion of the survey, this important site has been demolished in the constructing of a modern villa. 40. For a recent review of some of these sites, see Gregory 2010, pp. 467– 468.

41. Archaeological reports include ArchDelt 28 (1973), B΄1, p. 83; ArchDelt 51 (1996), B΄, pp. 94–95; ArchDelt 52 (1997), B΄1, pp. 148–149; Ergo ΥΠΠΟ 2 (1998), pp. 78–79; and Ergo ΥΠΠΟ 3 (1999), pp. 88–89. Brief English summaries are found in Blackman 1999,

p. 24; 2002, p. 21. Wiseman (1978, p. 48) notes the discovery of the site. 42. Pallas 1955. 43. Gregory 1985. 44. Gregory and Kardulias 1990; Kardulias, Gregory, and Sawmiller 1995; Kardulias 2005.

corinthian suburbia

45. For good overviews of the site in the Early and Late Roman eras, see Gebhard 1993b; Isthmia IX, pp. 113– 151. 46. Clement 1971, 1973. See Ellis et al. 2008 and Ellis and Poehler (Chapter 13 in this volume) for a reinterpretation of the architecture in the East Field. 47. Gregory and Kardulias 1990; Isthmia V; Kardulias 2005; Isthmia IX. 48. See, e.g., Isthmia II, p. 2; Isthmia IX, p. 111. 49. For a survey of the fortress, see Gregory and Kardulias 1990.

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had a fortress with a local garrison and small village settlement.45 As the site has been excavated over the last half century, my overview here will simply highlight how the EKAS data contributes to our understanding of the scope of settlement in the area. Previous work on settlement at the Isthmian sanctuary focused on the complex Roman settlement in the East Field, immediately east of the Temple of Poseidon,46 as well as on the small community who inhabited and buried their dead at the Hexamilion fortress.47 Scholars have also commented on the extensive built environment between the sanctuary and fortress and the Later Stadium,48 but these investigations occurred before EKAS conducted a systematic survey of the immediate environment beyond the sanctuary.49 The survey of the area around Isthmia has demonstrated that a highly developed built environment covered a more extensive area near the sanctuary than previously observed. There is evidence for significant concentrations of Roman material both west of Kyras Vrysi, along the road to Corinth, and south of the sanctuary in the valley beyond the Later Stadium (Figs. 14.2–14.6). Concerning the Early Roman era, numerous high-density and high-diversity units (ER LOCAs 13–17) are located immediately west of Kyras Vrysi. LOCA 13, for example, lies immediately northeast of the West Foundation and covers a vast area of 500 m (E–W) by 200 m (N–S). There are also two extensive ER LOCAs (18 and 19) south and southeast of the Later Stadium. For the Late Roman period, there are numerous concentrations in the same general areas, including the vicinity of the West Foundation (LR LOCAs 13 and 14), immediately west of Kyras Vrysi (LR LOCAs 15–17, 25), southwest of the Rachi settlement (LR LOCAs 19–21), and southwest of the Later Stadium (LR LOCA 18). The high-density areas evidently dwindle west of the West Foundation, although we do find Roman pottery there in moderate densities. The LOCAs surrounding the Isthmian sanctuary generated diverse artifact assemblages that suggest substantial ancient buildings (Tables 14.1– 14.4). Most of the ER LOCAs (13, 15–18) produced a combination of ER functional classes, and several of the LR LOCAs (13, 17, and 18) generated a full array of LR ceramics. In all of these areas, ceramic roof tile appears, and window glass, tesserae, brick, marble revetment, cut stone blocks, and cement are frequent (ER LOCAs 13, 15, 18, 19; LR LOCAs 13–15, 17, 18, and 21). Finally, millstone fragments were recorded in several areas (ER LOCA 18, LR LOCAs 13, 17–19). Four LOCAs (ER LOCA 18 and LR LOCAs 13, 17, and 18) produced the fullest array of material and number among the most important areas around the sanctuary. While we cannot easily determine the exact categorical equivalent of these artifact scatters, they certainly indicate very intensive land use, substantial economic investment, and a range of significant buildings in the broader vicinity of the Roman sanctuary and Late Antique fortification. The ring of sites south and west of Kyras Vrysi broadens our understanding of the Roman communities at Isthmia by revealing an extensive built environment oriented around the Isthmian sanctuary and fortress. It is likely that most of these sites mark complex dwellings near Isthmia.

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Kromna-Perdikaria If the Isthmian sanctuary was a well-known site in ancient literature, Roman sources are completely silent about the crossroads between Kromna and Perdikaria.50 Here, at the termination of the Ayios Dimitrios ridge and the Perdikaria ridge, roads converge from Kenchreai, the sanctuary, Corinth, and the Corinthian Gulf. In the Roman era, this crossroads was cluttered with houses and villas, graves and roadside tombs, and installations for exploiting agricultural and natural resources. Presumably, the limestone quarries were still being mined in the Roman era, and significant olivepress equipment of Roman date suggests one locus for community olive pressing.51 As a highly visible and central junction of the territory, this crossroads would have served as a commercial meeting point for travelers and local inhabitants, and a site of industry and production of oil, wine, honey, and limestone, among other commodities, that were shipped to nearby destinations including Corinth, the Isthmian sanctuary, Kenchreai, and the Corinthian Gulf. The numerous Early Roman (6–11) and Late Roman (6–12, 22, 23, 26) Density LOCAs in this area point to significant buildings on the land (Fig. 14.7). For example, the sites along the Perdikaria ridge (ER and LR LOCAs 6–9; Fig. 14.8) produced an array of materials consistent with elite-status residence, including Roman amphoras, coarse wares, cooking vessels, basins, imported fine wares, glass, and lamps;52 building material and architectural remains (cut stone blocks, large tiles, column fragments, marble revetment, and architectural moldings) highlight substantial prestige buildings (Tables 14.1–14.4). In the Roman era, then, this crossroads was a focal point for substantial buildings and elite residences, interspersed at distances of only 200–300 m. Did a sense of identity or community develop among the inhabitants of this crossroads? Certainly the range of pottery, building material, and agricultural equipment at the Kromna-Perdikaria crossroads defines an important focal point in the landscape that is distinct from other parts of the Isthmus. The local topography (at the junction of ridges and roads) and the presence of Roman graves, a substantial quarry, and a probable Late Antique church would have encouraged some sense of community among those inhabiting this area.53 The proximity of the sites to each other must also have encouraged a greater degree of economic integration. 50. Perdikaria is an old toponym (Blegen 1920, p. 7) for a sharp ridge 2.5 km east of Hexamilia and immediately south of the route between Hexamilia and Kenchreai. Kromna is an ancient site first identified by Wiseman (1963, pp. 257, 271–273; 1978, pp. 66– 68) in the quarries along the Corinth– Isthmia road. Wiseman named the site “Kromna” because an inscription found in a nearby fortification wall recorded an Ἀγάθων Κρωμνίτης, “Agathon of Kromna,” which Wiseman interpreted as a Corinthian town on the Isthmus.

Other scholars have reinterpreted the historical and archaeological evidence for Kromna (Tartaron et al. 2006, pp. 494–513; Caraher, Nakasis, and Pettegrew 2006, pp. 14, 36, n. 2; Pettegrew 2006, pp. 248–327), but the name Kromna is now firmly entrenched in archaeological literature as a toponym for the extensive ancient site at the eastern end of the Hexamilia quarries. 51. See James 2005 for the Late Hellenistic–Early Roman press bed. Another olive-press installation has been identified in the area, this one of

Late Antique date. 52. ER diagnostics: Eastern Sigillata, Çandarli ware, African Red Slip form 50. LR diagnostics: amphoras, Phocaean ware forms 3 and 10. 53. In 2002, geophysical survey revealed a complex of walls 30 m long at ER/LR LOCA 9 related to an ashlar-constructed rectangular building (on a roughly east–west orientation) in the southern part of the site. Gregory has argued (2010) for the presence of an Early Christian basilica at this site.

corinthian suburbia

307

Figure 14.7. roman sites near the Kromna-Perdikaria crossroads: er (shaded) and Lr (outlined) Density LoCas, with densest units indicated by triangles (er) and dots (Lr)

Density LOCA 7

Figure 14.8. View of the Perdikaria ridge, looking south, with er and Lr Density LoCas 7–9

LR Density LOCA 8

Density LOCA 9

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Town s : K enc hreai There is evidence for only one town on the Isthmus in the Roman era. Previous excavations at the harbor of Kenchreai have documented significant public buildings of Roman date associated with the port,54 while the work of the Kenchreai Cemetery Project has recently revealed both private domestic buildings (including a villa) and mortuary spaces on the Koutsongila ridge north of the harbor.55 The overburden of the modern village makes it impossible to define precisely the overall size of the ancient town, but EKAS’s limited survey of the area contributes some relevant information. Early Roman and Late Roman high-diversity units, high-density units, and Density LOCAs are scattered up to 1.1 km northwest of the harbor and 1.2 km north-northeast. The area surveyed northwest of the harbor was the site of Early and Late Roman Density LOCA 2, which, despite its high densities of Roman material,56 produced little variety in artifacts of Roman date (ER fine ware and kitchen ware, LR amphoras) and no elitestatus artifacts like marble revetment. Yet, the general background of ER and LR pottery in this area does suggest that habitation, however modest, runs north to the steep walls of the Ayios Dimitrios ridge.57 The Ayios Dimitrios ridge also forms the northern limit to the area of habitation northeast of the harbor at Kenchreai (Early Roman Density LOCA 1). In the course of surveying the large grain fields near the neighborhood of Panorama, field teams encountered high densities of Early and Late Roman ceramics, including fine ware (Eastern Sigillata A, African Red Slip, Çandarli, and Phocaean wares), kitchen ware, medium coarse ware, amphoras, and lamps.58 Additionally, there were pieces of ancient marble revetment, tesserae, glass, beehives, cut limestone blocks, water pipes, cut stone, ground-stone tools, andesite, and tiles. Such varied evidence suggests that a villa stood in this location in the Roman period. Situated on an extensive natural terrace, the sites here benefited from pleasant views of the Saronic Gulf and the harbor of Kenchreai, decent agricultural land (today used for grain and olives), and proximity to a probable route to the Isthmian sanctuary.59 The two areas that EKAS investigated near Kenchreai, then, indicate that Roman-period habitation and buildings were scattered northward from the harbor up to the sharp bluff of the Ayios Dimitrios ridge. The intensive survey and considerable extensive survey on that ridge suggest that Roman habitation associated with Kenchreai did not continue across the plateau. This border to the town’s development speaks to a substantial built environment north and northwest of the harbor. 54. See Kenchreai I–VI; Hohlfelder 1976. 55. Rife et al. 2007; Rife 2010. 56. Early and Late Roman pottery form the majority of ancient material recorded in these areas. Cf. final column in Tables 14.1 and 14.2. 57. Some survey units that produced no artifacts showed either low surface visibility or had been subject to bulldozing and modern terracing.

58. The latest Roman pottery from this LOCA includes late forms of Phocaean ware and narrow combed ware; pottery and artifacts spanning the medieval period were also found here. 59. It is logical to see an upper east– west road running from Kenchreai through this area, skirting the Ayios Dimitrios ridge before turning northward toward Isthmia.

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tH e u r Ban P eri P H ery oF ro Man Corin t H In previous discussions of settlement in the eastern Corinthia, historians have adopted standard terms from settlement pattern studies—“nucleated” vs. “dispersed” and “extensive” vs. “intensive”—to characterize Roman habitation. Engels, for example, in his discussion of Corinth’s “service economy,” proposed that the city’s rural settlement was generally “nucleated” in towns and villages.60 Gregory and Kardulias, in their studies of exurban settlements in the Corinthia, described a Late Antique pattern of intensive settlement that suggested continuing demographic vitality of the Corinthia.61 Rothaus posited that the Late Antique villas known from the Corinthia were spatially oriented in a ring around the urban center as though villa owners wished to remain active in civic life.62 The city and the villa, especially, have formed two frequent poles through which to define and discuss Roman habitation. In this study I have presented several significant refinements to earlier assessments of settlement on the Isthmus, as well as to the general terms with which we articulate this discussion. The chronological patterns observed in the EKAS survey data indicate that habitation and building activity on the broader Isthmus paralleled the historical development of the urban center in the later 1st and 2nd centuries a.d. and the continued vitality of the city into the late 6th or even early 7th century a.d. The overall spatial pattern is intensive and continuous, scattered across the territory, but also thickening at the major crossroads like Isthmia and Kromna-Perdikaria. Settlement on the Roman Isthmus included a range of forms of occupation like peasant farms, villas, communities, towns, and the urban center. This complexity in the patterns of occupation allows us to refine previous assessments of the inhabited Isthmus. Roman settlement on the Corinthian Isthmus was not nucleated, as Engels posited, focused only in villages and towns.63 It was also not restricted to an immediate ring of villas around the urban center, as Rothaus suggested for the Late Antique era,64 or as might be implied in previous discussions of Corinth’s “suburbs.”65 More accurate are descriptions that have highlighted the region’s “intensive settlement” and networks of villae rusticae,66 but even these suggest a Greek countryside dotted by isolated, dispersed farmsteads. The patterns summarized in this study, in fact, fit poorly within the “nucleated” and “dispersed” interpretive frameworks of settlement pattern studies. The settlement pattern recorded by EKAS is, more accurately, “urban periphery” or “peri-urban zone.”67 Recent scholarship on the urban periphery of major cities of the Roman Mediterranean has highlighted 60. Engels 1990, pp. 22–65. 61. Gregory 1985; Gregory and Kardulias 1990; Kardulias, Gregory, and Sawmiller 1995; Kardulias 2005, pp. 113–116. 62. Rothaus 1994; 2000, pp. 26–29. 63. Engels 1990. 64. Rothaus 2000, pp. 26–29. 65. See Walbank 1997, pp. 125–130, for a discussion of suburban settlement

immediately surrounding the Roman city of Corinth. 66. See nn. 44 and 61, above. 67. Goodman 2007. The modern term “urban periphery” highlights the continuing zone of habitation in the peripheries of urban centers. While the city of Rome has been the focal point for scholarship on urban periphery or suburbs, scholars have documented

peri-urban zones for other large towns and cities of the Roman Mediterranean, such as Nea Paphos in Cyprus, Leptiminus in Tunisia, and cities in Gaul. Such zones can extend 15–30 km beyond an urban center. See Champlin 1982–1985; Morley 1996; Rupp 1997; Stone, Stirling, and Ben Lazreg 1998; Goodman 2007.

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the close relationship of the territory to the city through intensive forms of land use (e.g., vegetable gardens and groves) and the high density of settlements along the radial road network of the territory.68 Moreover, the frequent villae rusticae in peri-urban zones projected the urban center into its territory by extending elite residence and habits of production and consumption, as well as the built environment, beyond the town. Hence, the urban periphery was an important transitional zone between city and countryside that allowed wealthier citizens especially to enjoy the leisure and beauty of the territory while still within walking distance of the city. Settlements in peri-urban zones contributed to the productive capacity of the ancient city; town and territory mutually benefited each other through networks of exchange.69 If we view the Isthmus as the urban periphery of a major provincial capital of the Mediterranean, we take a positive step toward addressing age-old questions about the city’s image and economy: how “commercial,” “wealthy,” and “productive” was the Roman city in its territory? While addressing these questions is beyond the scope of this chapter, recognizing the peri-urban zones of Roman Corinth populates the territory with the ancient sites and peoples that ancient writers regularly passed over in silence.

68. Goodman 2007; Morley 1996, pp. 83–107. In the territory immediately surrounding a major city, one could find towns and villages, villas with baths and fishponds, and the properties of freeholders and tenants; fruit and vegetable gardens, vineyards and olive groves, livestock, poultry, and farm animals; the shrines and groves of religious sanctuaries; and the cemeteries and tombs along the numerous good roads of the territory. 69. Morley 1996, pp. 83–107.

c hap ter 15

Work teams on the isthmian fortress and the de vel opment of a Later roman architectural aesthe tic by Jon M. Frey Until the summer of 1952, when Oscar Broneer determined by excavation the actual location of the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia, the most common opinion expressed by travelers and archaeologists since the late 17th century was that the temples and shrines once described by Pausanias (2.1.7–2.2) stood within a heavily walled structure located between the remains of the theater and stadium (Plans B, C).1 We now know that their “temenos walls” are actually the remains of a later Roman fortification, known today simply as the Fortress, but as easy as it may be to recognize their error from our present point of view, it is just as easy to see how the material evidence could have misled even those who conducted excavations in this area. For, as the early explorers often commented, the standing walls exhibited signs of a care in construction and a mastery of technique that recalled work of the Classical period.2 Even for those who studied the site in more detail, the carefully cut and closely joined masonry caused a great deal of confusion. Leake described the defenses as “built in the manner of the best of times” in spite of the fact that the construction technique “does not seem to indicate a very remote antiquity.”3 Even Broneer, who had finally proved that the walled enclosure was a later addition to the site, still described its construction as “uniform and of excellent quality.”4 The evidence gathered by the systematic excavations at Isthmia over the last half century has at least provided a reasonable explanation for the displaced classical fragments.5 It is now understood that many of the 1. Some of those who expressed this opinion are Leake ([1830] 1968, pp. 286–297); Beulé (1855, pp. 463– 470); Burnouf (1856, pp. 31–36); Bursian (1862, pp. 20–22); and Monceaux (1884, 1885). In 1903 Staïs explored this area in order to evaluate Monceaux’s conclusions but blamed the lack of anything earlier than Roman in date on the thinness of the soil: Staïs 1903. In 1932 Jenkins and Megaw definitively stated that the walled enclosure

could not be the temenos of Poseidon. Yet they were also forced to admit that their search for the actual location of this structure had been fruitless: Jenkins and Megaw 1931–1932. Cf. Broneer 1953, pp. 182–185. All illustrations in this chapter are by the author, and appear courtesy of the Ohio State University Excavations at Isthmia. 2. Frazer [1898] 1965, p. 5; O’Neill 1930, p. 14; Corinth I.1, p. 54.

3. Leake [1830] 1968, p. 303. See also Monceaux 1884, pp. 275–276. 4. Broneer 1958a, p. 83. 5. The Fortress has been studied continuously, yet sporadically, since the start of the excavations under Broneer in 1952. See Broneer 1953, p. 185; 1955, p. 124; 1958a, pp. 83–84, 88; 1958b, pp. 20–22; 1959, pp. 320–321; Clement 1968; 1970; 1971, pp. 109–110; 1973, pp. 145–149; Gregory and Kardulias 1990; Isthmia V; Kardulias 2005.

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buildings belonging to the Sanctuary of Poseidon were disassembled and their constituent parts transported to this location for secondary use in the first few decades of the 5th century, most likely as part of the Roman response to the devastating Visigothic raid of a.d. 396.6 These fragments were used to create a defensive enclosure that would have served as both a garrison and a gateway through a nearly six-mile-long defensive wall that spanned the entire Isthmus. Originally close to three meters thick and in places perhaps as tall as nine meters, this wall, known as the Hexamilion, was designed to protect the entire Peloponnese from another land invasion from the north.7 At the same time, though, the construction techniques that gave these walls their impressive appearance reminiscent of earlier times have remained largely unexplored, both in terms of the site itself and in terms of the larger phenomenon of spoliation of which they are arguably a part.8 The present study, which builds upon the important work of Timothy Gregory and P. Nick Kardulias in documenting the extant remains of the Hexamilion and Fortress, utilizes an intensive examination of two different sections of the enclosure wall in an effort to better understand the ways in which the architecture of the Sanctuary of Poseidon was utilized in building the defensive wall.9 The results of this study suggest that the task of erecting the Fortress at Isthmia was left to largely autonomous work crews who followed the same general instructions and drew upon the same material resources, yet operated in ways that differed widely from one another in terms of technique. The heterogeneous, yet consistently well-built nature of the finished product is of particular interest here, for it not only offers evidence for the diversity and strength of time-honored building traditions in late antiquity, but also suggests that it may have been at the level of the small work crew, engaged in defensive projects like this, that builders first began to explore the challenges and aesthetic possibilities of building in recycled materials. It may be that the lessons learned here played as important a role as the basilicas and arches of Rome in developing what would become the new architectural style of the Byzantine period. 6. On the date of the fortifications, see Clement 1976, 1977a, 1977b; Isthmia V, pp. 70–79. 7. For the height of the fighting platform, Gregory provides the following figures: 5.36 m (north of the Roman Bath), 7.29 m (Northeast Gate), 6.48 m (Tower 2), and 5.87 m (Tower 6). Gregory adds a parapet wall of 2 m in height, possibly making the Hexamilion as tall as 20 cubits or 9.37 m. See Isthmia V, pp. 40, 65, 112, 119, 135. 8. On the rapidly growing field of spolia studies, see Kinney 1995, 1997, 2001, 2006; Poeschke and Brandenburg 1996; Hansen 2003; Frey 2006. It is worth pointing out that by and large the study of spolia in the last three decades has been dominated by analy-

ses of the religious architecture of the West in general and the Italian peninsula in particular. It is hoped that the present study will be seen as an example of the way in which secular architecture, as well as evidence from Greece, can make an important contribution to the discussion. On the call to expand the study of Byzantine architecture, see Mango 1991, pp. 40–41. On the study of fortifications as examples of aesthetic reuse, see Deichmann 1975; Gregory 1982; Blagg 1983; Saradi 1997; Greenhalgh 1999; Frey 2006. 9. Although the Hexamilion forms the subject of an entire volume in the Isthmia series, the sheer size and complexity of this monument, arguably the largest archaeological site in

Greece, required that some topics be reserved for later study. Thus, in Gregory’s analysis, “the focus is on the Hexamilion as an architectural and military unit, and no systematic attempt has been made to discuss the abundant spolia used in the fortification” (Isthmia V, p. vii). Also relevant to the present study is Kardulias’s important theoretical analysis of the energy expended in erecting the Fortress as compared to the religious sanctuary (Kardulias 1995). While Kardulias’s conclusions have been of particular importance in framing this project, they do not rely on a close analysis of the specific details of these walls built from recycled architecture.

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DesC ri P t i on oF tH e Fortres s at i s tH M i a The Fortress at Isthmia has been described as a “pork-chop” shaped enclosure appended to the southern side of the Hexamilion in the area where the barrier wall passes by the site of Isthmia (Plans B, C).10 As a result, for a length of some 200 m, the Hexamilion does double duty, serving as both the trans-Isthmian wall and the northern wall of the defensive enclosure. At a point just east of a small gateway through the Hexamilion, the western wall of the Fortress runs almost directly south in a straight line for a distance of some 230 m before turning at a right angle to form the southern side of the Fortress. On the eastern side the enclosure wall follows a gentle curve for a distance of nearly 220 m. Here the wall forms the eastern edge of an artificial plateau built up from several meters of dumped earth and debris. At the end of this curving section, the wall turns sharply toward the southwest and eventually joins up with the southern wall. This southern span of the Fortress is the shortest, measuring roughly 100 m in length. All told, the area enclosed within these walls measures approximately 2.7 ha.11 The four sides of the enclosure are protected by a total of 19 towers extending from the outer face of the wall. All towers except those flanking the main entrances are rectangular, but the degree to which each tower projects from the enclosure wall varies depending on location. Originally, two entrances of similar width give access to the interior of the Fortress on the northeast and southern sides.12 The location of the Northeast Gate, which also served in late antiquity as the main entrance into the Peloponnese, was chosen in order to make use of a preexisting Early Roman triple arch.13 The South Gate was flanked by a pair of octagonal towers, five sides of which stood free from the face of the southern wall of the Fortress. While it is not as well preserved as the Northeast Gate, it appears that this gate was an entirely new creation of the later Roman builders.14 It is clear that the presence of preexisting structures played an important role in the layout of the fortifications. This is most apparent along the Hexamilion to the west of the Fortress, where the builders incorporated the north wall of the Roman Bath into the span of the defenses. Another example may be found along the western side of the enclosure, where excavations have revealed the remains of an older wall at an elevation just below that of the foundations of the later Roman defenses.15 In the absence of such structures, the walls of the Fortress were erected upon a thick foundation of mortar and rubble. With very few exceptions, the enclosure walls consist of parallel exterior and interior faces built of large squared blocks, the gap between which was then filled with broken architectural fragments and rubble embedded in a large quantity of mortar. At intervals, blocks on both 10. Isthmia V, p. 129. 11. Gregory and Kardulias 1990, p. 470. 12. Gregory gives a measurement of 3.2–3.4 m for both (Isthmia V, p. 92). While the size of the Northeast Gate was determined by the width of the central bay of the Roman Arch, the

similar measurement for the South Gate likely results from an effort to maintain a uniform road width through the Fortress. This would seem to suggest some form of general oversight for the construction project as a whole. 13. Isthmia V, pp. 52–79. 14. Isthmia V, pp. 90–94.

15. Clement 1968, p. 142; 1970, pp. 163–164; Isthmia V, pp. 107–108. The relationship of this “Long Wall” to the western wall of the Fortress is in need of further investigation as the earlier structure follows a slightly different orientation than that of the later defensive wall.

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Figure 15.1. Fortress wall between towers 6 and 7. Lone header embedded in upper section of wall and signs of shuttering in the mortar and rubble core.

faces were turned to project into this mortar-and-rubble core in a system of headers and stretchers that securely bonded all three elements into a solid whole. In many places today much of the two faces has fallen away or been removed for use elsewhere, leaving only the crumbling remains of the mortar-and-rubble core and an occasional squared block jutting out from the center thickness of the wall (Fig. 15.1).

Cu rio us F eat ures While the Fortress has never been the object of a regular campaign of systematic excavation, intermittent investigations have cleared much of the circuit wall, its gates, and its defensive towers.16 All of this work has culminated in the publication of separate monographs on the Hexamilion and Fortress by Gregory and Kardulias.17 In the end though, for all they have revealed about the general features of the Fortress at Isthmia, these investigations have yielded as many questions as answers concerning both the overall design and basic techniques responsible for the final appearance of this structure. For example, in most locations the thickness of the enclosure wall is 2.3 m, but on occasion parts of the wall measure 3.5 m wide. Usually this thickening can be attributed to the presence of staircases leading up to the fighting platform built flush against the rear face of the wall, but in other locations the reason for this increase in width is less clear.18 In addition, the towers that served to protect these enclosure walls also differ noticeably from one another in terms of wall thickness and style of construction. For example, excavations have shown that Tower 6 was fitted with a staircase built into the thickness of the tower wall itself.19 Yet, as far as we can tell, such a feature is absent from other towers with roughly similar overall dimensions. Similarly, the walls of Towers 2 and 17 have no mortared rubble core at all—an odd feature given their strategically important location along the north face of the Fortress.20

16. Monceaux 1884; Staïs 1903; RE IX, 1916, cols. 2256–2265, s.v. Isthmos (E. Fimmen); Jenkins and Megaw 1931–1932, pp. 79–83. For excavations since 1952, see n. 5, above. 17. Isthmia V; Kardulias 2005. 18. Jenkins and Megaw 1931–1932, p. 74; Isthmia V, pp. 108–109, 112. 19. Isthmia V, pp. 118–120. 20. Tower 2 is located at the critical point of juncture between the Hexamilion and the eastern wall of the Fortress. See Isthmia V, pp. 100–117, 124–125.

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Figure 15.2. interiors of towers 8 (left) and 9 (right) of the south Gate

21. According to Gregory (Isthmia V, p. 56), even the platforms of the two towers differ in their dimensions to a noticeable degree: that of Tower 19 measures ca. 6.37 × 3.77 m, while that of Tower 1 measures ca. 6.56 × 3.50 m. 22. Gregory states (Isthmia V, p. 91) that the exterior faces of the eastern tower (Tower 8) are all ca. 2.85 m wide, while those of the western tower (Tower 9) vary from 2.66 to 3.14 m in width. 23. Isthmia NB Pallas 1956–1958, pp. 78–110.

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At the gates of the Fortress, where one might expect to see signs of an effort to achieve an aesthetically pleasing symmetry, the flanking towers exhibit noticeably different characteristics. Gregory’s study of the Northeast Gate has shown that, in contrast to the circular shape of the north tower (Tower 19), the southern half of the south tower (Tower 1) was partly rectilinear. Moreover, the northern tower appears to have been the only one decorated with a carved molding around the base, parts of which were later hacked away to allow the blocks to be reused atop the tower platforms.21 Finally, the octagonal towers that flank the South Gate (Towers 8 and 9) are the only two with this shape on the entire Hexamilion and Fortress, which would seem to indicate that they were designed to mirror one another in appearance. Again though, what remains of these two structures differs in terms of overall dimensions, quality of construction, and interior plan (Fig. 15.2).22 In the end, the more carefully one studies this monument, the more one recognizes that these inconsistencies in dimensions, technique, and overall appearance are far more the rule than the exception.

an i n ten s iV e st u Dy: tow ers 7 an D 1 4 In an effort to better understand the causes that underlie this general inconsistency in building style, two sections of the Fortress with roughly similar dimensions and plan were studied intensively over the course of the 2005 season at Isthmia. The first area investigated focused on parts of Tower 7 and the adjacent wall (Figs. 15.3, 15.4). This section is located between the South Gate and the southeastern corner of the Fortress. In the final days of the 1958 season, Pallas uncovered this tower and the outer face of the enclosure wall on either side.23 The present study concerns the

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5 m long northeastern face of Tower 7 and a 7 m long stretch of the exterior fortress wall to its northeast. Beyond this point, the original appearance of the facade has been altered by a large hole that gouges deeply into the core of the wall. The uppermost course of ashlars along the curtain wall here is only partly preserved so that, in spite of the fact that the modern ground level slopes downward along its face toward the northeast, nowhere does the height of the outer facade exceed 2.5 m. Much of the eastern corner of Tower 7 has also fallen away and as a result, the portion of the tower facade studied here rises from a height of two courses at this corner to a height of four courses where it meets up with the fortress wall. These sections of the fortification do not appear to have been affected by later construction and remain completely exposed to view. It is worth noting that while the southwestern side of the tower is bonded to the fortress wall, the ashlars on the exterior of the northeastern return of the tower wall simply butt

Figure 15.3 (top). Fortress wall adjacent to tower 7 Figure 15.4 (bottom). scale elevation of the fortress wall adjacent to tower 7

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Figure 15.5 (top). northern section of the fortress wall adjacent to tower 14 Figure 15.6 (bottom). scale elevation of the fortress wall adjacent to tower 14

24. Monceaux 1884, pp. 276–277. Jenkins and Megaw (1931–1932, pp. 74–75) corrected this error. 25. Clement 1968, p. 142; 1970, pp. 163–164.

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up against the outer face of the enclosure wall. Within the tower on this side, the uppermost preserved ashlar is bonded to the fortress wall and it is likely that additional superimposed courses would also have been carefully joined. Yet for the lowest 2.5 m of this side, the tower and the fortress wall are not joined together. Tower 14, the second area of investigation, is located in the northwest area of the enclosure, some 54 m south of Tower 15 along the west wall of the Fortress (Figs. 15.5, 15.6). In 1883, Monceaux first excavated this tower in the mistaken belief that a later breach in the defenses here represented a western gate into the enclosure.24 In 1967 and 1969, Clement returned to Tower 14 and fully uncovered and studied the fortress walls, as well as a series of walls predating the later Roman structure.25 The area studied in 2005 includes the 4.5 m long south side of Tower 14 and almost 8 m of the adjacent wall to its south. At the highest preserved point near the circuit wall, the five courses of the outer face of the tower stand to a height of nearly 2 m. At the tower’s southwest corner only two courses rise to a little more than 1 m above the foundations. The excavated section of the enclosure wall to the immediate south of Tower 14 is generally flat and

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level. Nowhere does the preserved height of this span exceed 2 m. Along the southern third of this section, the two uppermost courses of blocks have either fallen or been carried away, revealing the core of the wall. Elsewhere, the outer facade consists of four or five courses of blocks, placed in fairly consistent rows. In many locations around Tower 14 there are rubble walls that most likely represent single-room structures built against the outer face of the Fortress sometime in the 14th or 15th century.26 Aside from obscuring parts of the walls of the Late Roman enclosure, these later additions seem to have had little effect on the structural remains of the original defenses. More importantly, the south wall of Tower 14 and the western wall of the Fortress are bonded from the top to the bottom of their preserved height. Because both wall and tower show signs of only one phase of construction, we must conclude that either both sections are original to the Fortress or the entire 8 m of curtain wall and its adjoining tower have been entirely rebuilt. Later repairs, if they did once exist here, would have been atop the present remains and must have long since disappeared.

siMiLa ri t ies B e t ween t H e tow er 7 an D tow er 14 areas On a most basic level, it is clear that in order for any defensive enclosure to be effective, it must be planned and constructed as an integral whole over a relatively short period of time. In other words, a fortification cannot serve its designated function if sections of its circuit wall are left in an unfinished state for long periods of time. Yet beyond these theoretical considerations, there is also much to suggest that both the Tower 7 and Tower 14 areas came into existence as the result of a single building campaign. To begin with, in spite of being located on two different sides of the Fortress, both sections were constructed from the same supply of reused materials. Fragments from buildings in the Sanctuary of Poseidon can be identified in a number of places along the fortress walls and are the most easily demonstrated proof that recycled architecture was evenly distributed to all areas of the enclosure for use in construction.27 In particular, the presence of column drums from the Temple of Poseidon between Towers 13 and 14 on the western side of the enclosure and in the vicinity of Towers 5, 6, and 7 along the eastern side offers a particularly clear demonstration of the uniform distribution and treatment of building materials (Fig. 15.7). Moreover, the present condition of these various fragments suggests that column drums were cut into smaller pieces in a consistent fashion. Builders cut two parallel, vertical grooves through the drum beginning on the flat upper surface in order to produce a central piece that was nearly rectangular and two crescent-shaped fragments on either side.28 As a result of this modification, all three pieces could be more easily incorporated into the fabric of the new wall. Yet, it is a rare occurrence to find blocks still embedded in the enclosure walls that exhibit any indication that they have been recycled. A careful examination of the over 60 m2 of wall in the Tower 7 and Tower 14 areas

26. Isthmia V, p. 105. One of these rubble walls can be seen on the righthand side of Figure 15.5, represented as a blank space near the center of the elevation in Figure 15.6. 27. Large deposits of recycled blocks that have been collected over decades of sporadic investigation are located near the Northeast Gate, the South Gate, to the west of the Fortress near Tower 14, and to the east near Towers 6 and 7. In all of these locations fragments of triglyphs, cornices, fluted and unfluted column drums, and coping blocks can be identified. Most of these different blocks have similar dimensions. 28. According to Broneer (1953, p. 184), “the column drums and other building blocks could readily have been rolled down [from the temple terrace] before they were built into the wall.”

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Figure 15.7. Column drum from the temple of Poseidon near the western wall of the Fortress

29. It should be noted, however, that this cutting is the sole feature on this side of the block. If this cutting were a pry hole, one would expect to find associated clamp holes on either side of the block. 30. The distance between the peaks of the glyphs measures 0.29–0.30 m, while the distance between the edges of the center femora is 0.12–0.13 m. Compare the triglyph fragments published in Isthmia I, pp. 133–135, figs. 114, 120. 31. Unfortunately, short of removing the block from the wall, there is no way to verify this suggestion.

that were the object of this study—over 120 individual blocks—revealed only five examples with features that indicate a prior use in another structure. In the Tower 7 area, one block located just above the modern surface near the junction of the fortress wall with the side of the tower shows the eroded remains of swallowtail-clamp cuttings on the outer facade, now partly filled with mortar. Further to the northeast, but in the same course, another ashlar features a beveled edge that runs from the upper left-hand corner of the block’s outer facade back into the thickness of the wall. A small stone inserted in the triangular hole created by this cutting as well as traces of mortar indicate that this gap would have been filled in antiquity. Yet, the upper surface of the bevel has been smoothed with a claw-toothed chisel, which suggests a prior use for the block in a different orientation. A final block, located at the top and center of the enclosure wall just east of Tower 7, is marked by a small vertical cutting near the center of its outer face, which may have served as pry hole in an earlier structure.29 In the Tower 14 region, this study identified only two blocks that clearly served another purpose in earlier antiquity. In the first case, traces of a smoothed face and perhaps some type of carved molding can be seen in the vertical seam between two members of the lowest fully exposed course of the western wall of the Fortress. However, the space between the two ashlars, which had been filled with mortar at the time of construction in the 5th century, is not sufficient to examine this feature in better detail. Secondly, a block with curiously shaped cuttings along the lower edge of its outer face is located near the southernmost extent of the section of wall studied here. Even though they have been filled with chunks of stone and mortar, two small triangular-shaped cuts in the stone still bear a striking resemblance to the profile of a triglyph from the nearby Temple of Poseidon.30 Therefore, it is possible that this block is a damaged triglyph from the temple that has been placed in the fortress wall so that it rests on its decorative face.31

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In many ways it is the rarity and tenuous nature of these identifications that serve to illustrate the degree to which the original function of this recycled architecture has been hidden from view. One need only consider the variety of ways in which blocks were carved in preparation for use in a classical building to realize that indications of former use should be more readily apparent. From the sculpted surfaces of column drums, capitals, and epistyles to the anathyrosis, clamp cuttings, and pry holes that mark even a simple ashlar, very few blocks emerge from the construction process completely unmarked. A close examination of the numerous tumbled blocks lying at the foot of the enclosure wall shows this to be true, for a much greater proportion of these ashlars can be identified as reused on the basis of their surface treatments. More significantly though, many of these fallen ashlars also show signs of an effort to either chisel off any decorative surfaces or orient the block so that areas with traces of cuttings faced the interior of the fortress walls. For example, near Tower 7, two large limestone blocks with an identical cyma recta preserve traces of mortar on the ornamental surface. On one of the blocks, the upper edge of the carved molding has been shaved off to flatten the overall surface. Near Tower 14, a fragment of a geison also carries traces of mortar on its decorative surface. Finally, a number of examples of recycled column drums carry traces of mortar on what remains of their fluting and signs of smoothing with a claw-toothed chisel on the opposite side. Such evidence points to a clear effort to hide signs of previous use and is a notable similarity between the the two study areas.32 Given the fact that masons had little control over the dimensions of a block quarried from another building, the process of assembling materials from a wide variety of sources into a wall that was both solidly built and hid any indication of reuse held the potential to be a complex and timeconsuming process. Yet, it would appear that builders in many areas of the Fortress addressed these difficulties through the utilization of traditional building techniques. One technique in particular—the positioning of blocks in alternating sequences of headers and stretchers known as emplecton—has a long history in the masonry traditions of ancient Greece.33 When building walls with an ashlar facade enclosing an earth or concrete and rubble core, builders would traditionally position a number of blocks on the wall’s outer face as headers that projected deeply into the center of the wall. By working to bond the cut stone faces to the thick core of the wall, these header blocks helped to create a defensive unit that was stronger than any 32. One might posit that the scarcity of examples of reuse is due to the fact that these ashlars were newly quarried for the purpose of building this fortification. To be sure, Gregory notes evidence of quarrying at the time of construction in a number of locations along the course of the Hexamilion and Fortress. However, the fact that blocks with identifiable signs of reuse form a much higher percentage of the total number of blocks dislodged from the

wall as compared to the ratio of blocks in situ argues in favor of the conclusion that many blocks within the wall were reused in a way that hid all signs of their prior function. For evidence of quarrying, see Isthmia V, pp. 36, 116– 117, 137, 139. 33. Vitr. 2.8.7; Tomlinson 1961; Foss and Winfield 1986, pp. 25–27; Adam 1994, pp. 76–77; Milner 1997, p. 222.

work teams on the isthmian fortress

34. This is especially apparent in sections of the wall near Towers 2 and 14. 35. DeLaine 1997, pp. 143–145. 36. Johnson 1983, pp. 33–35.

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of its constituent parts. Evidence of this technique is everywhere present at the Fortress at Isthmia, especially in the area of Tower 14, where holes cut through the defenses for a later gateway provide a cross-section of the wall’s inner structure. Moreover, in many other locations throughout the Fortress, stretcher blocks have fallen away or been removed, leaving only the headers projecting out from the central core of the wall (see Fig. 15.1).34 The defensive enclosure at Isthmia also shows that builders made a concerted effort to erect their walls in level horizontal courses reminiscent of isodomic masonry. This is especially evident in locations where the walls have been constructed over rises and drops in the terrain. Where the tendency, especially in the use of recycled materials, might have been to build in a disorganized fashion that almost approached polygonal masonry, builders were careful to add or remove blocks of specific heights or to notch the bottom corners of ashlars in order to compensate for changes in elevation. As a result, the lowest courses have a stepped appearance in many locations around the enclosure. Yet above the level of the foundations, one rarely sees a case where the level horizontal seam between two courses is interrupted. In addition, the visible remains of the wall’s thick center show that masons typically stopped after each course to dump additional debris between the ashlar facades and to seal this fill with a layer of mortar before setting the next layer of ashlars, a process known as shuttering. In places where the outer shell of ashlars has fallen away, faint horizontal lines in the core show the different points at which the rubble and mortar was added depending on the height of the ashlar blocks (see Fig. 15.1). In the past, especially in buildings constructed of brick, this practice was often associated with the use of bonding courses and was intended to allow the mortar some time to dry before the placement of the next course of building.35 In projects dependent upon reused architecture, this practice had the added advantage of producing a clean, level working surface for each new course of blocks.36 While none of these methods should strike the viewer as particularly daring or innovative approaches to the centuries-old tradition of erecting walls, the use of headers and stretchers as well as the arrangement of blocks in level courses followed by periodic infilling of debris and mortar were complementary techniques that allowed the builders the requisite flexibility to build a strong defense from recycled materials. To begin with, all three techniques helped to simplify the process of selecting blocks for use in the wall because a builder could choose any architectural fragment that shared only one dimension in order to ensure that the height of a block would be roughly equivalent to that of neighboring blocks and level coursing could be maintained. Once set in place, the thickness of the blocks mattered only insofar as they needed to project into the core of the wall to different depths, but this was the general goal of the system of headers and stretchers in any case. The length of the blocks would have concerned masons only to the extent that it was important to avoid repeating vertical joints between blocks of two superimposed courses, as aligning seams would weaken the structure of the wall. Given the difficulty of positioning these massive blocks, the consistent utilization of these techniques throughout the Fortress would have prevented the costly and laborious process of setting and resetting the ashlars until one achieved the proper fit.

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u niq ue CHa raCterist iCs oF tH e tow er 7 a nD tower 14 a re as When taken together, this evidence suggests that the Fortress at Isthmia not only was built as a single construction project but also was guided by a uniform set of general instructions concerning the supply and utilization of recycled materials. Yet at the same time, the Tower 7 and Tower 14 sections of the enclosure wall exhibit a number of characteristics that mark them as unique creations in their own right. To begin with, a particularly noticeable distinction between the two different sections concerns the way in which masons chose to assemble the ashlar blocks of the outer facade. It was a common defensive strategy to make sure that the exterior of a fortress was as smooth as possible in order to prevent an attacker from either scaling or somehow weakening the walls. The builders of the Tower 7 area opted to achieve this goal in a way that recalls a much more ancient masonry technique. Here, all of the blocks have been carefully squared and the contact surfaces between them are nearly seamless. Hardly a trace of mortar can be found anywhere above the level of the foundations. Such a clean, finished look was the result of two separate processes. First, where they have been exposed by later damage to the walls of this section, the upper and side edges of many of the ashlars show that masons consistently carved away the rear corners on the sides of each block (Fig. 15.8). This created a trapezoidal block that was slightly wider on its front than its rear surface. When placed side by side, these blocks only came into contact with one another along a thin strip closest to the outer face. The triangular gap behind this deceptively clean join was then filled with the same mortar and rubble as was used in the core. In the end, this practice did not compromise the wall’s structural integrity, and when seen from the front the defenses looked just as solid and imposing as those dating to much earlier antiquity. In a sense, this could be seen as a form of anathyrosis, a centuries-old solution to the problem of matching the faces of large ashlar blocks. Perhaps it is not too speculative to suggest that it may have been classical building techniques that inspired this inventive approach, even if the traditions themselves may have been lost over time. After all, the systematic disassembly of the classical-era sanctuary would have given masons many opportunities to examine the ways in which their predecessors had erected large-scale works.37 Second, many of the blocks still in the walls of the Tower 7 area bear clear signs of having been worked with a claw-toothed chisel. What is more, in a number of instances the parallel grooves indicative of this tool’s use pass without interruption across horizontal and vertical seams between ashlars. Thus it would seem that once all the stones had been set in place and the wall was nearing completion, masons gave the outer surface of the Tower 7 sections a final smoothing. In many cases, this also would have removed any last traces of prior carving that may have hinted at the blocks’ earlier location and function. In stark contrast to the walls near Tower 7, the Tower 14 area does not feature carefully squared and joined blocks. Here, instead of carving the

37. This would not necessarily have been limited to structures built of stone in the emplecton technique, but could have been observed in buildings erected in Roman opus testaceum using triangular-shaped bricks, such as the Roman bath. See Adam 1994, pp. 145–148.

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Figure 15.8. View from above of modified anathyrosis in the tower 7 area; the wall face is to the left.

38. Adam 1994, pp. 82–87; DeLaine 1997, pp. 145–149.

blocks themselves in order to create level courses, builders often chose to prepare a thin layer of small stones, tiles, and pottery to smooth out any irregularities in the bedding surface before setting the next course in place. The vertical joins between ashlars are for the most part much cleaner than the horizontal seams, but these too contain a number of chipped edges and broken corners that were filled with smaller fragments of stone and pottery. Moreover, the builders of the Tower 14 section relied much more heavily on the use of mortar to achieve a flat, smooth outer face similar to that exhibited by the walls around Tower 7. In a number of locations, a veneer of smoothed mortar not only fills the gaps left by the broken corners and the rough joins of adjacent ashlars but also adheres to much of the outer surface of the blocks as well. On the facade, this mortar has weathered to a light gray, like the surrounding stone, and at times it is difficult to distinguish the border between the two. In many other places, though, the mortar has eroded away, revealing the original creamy pink color of the stone and the remaining mortar below. A quick inspection of other blocks along the wall near Tower 14 reveals many examples of this discoloration around the rough edges of blocks. Thus it is likely that significant quantities of mortar were used to even out and hide nearly all irregularities in the surface of these walls. The resulting appearance of the facade here would have been almost seamless, with the gaps between blocks rendered nearly invisible through the carefully applied mortar veneer. The final distinction between these two sections of the Fortress concerns an odd feature of the walls between Towers 6 and 7. In several locations along this stretch small cuttings have been made across the top surface of some of the ashlars (Fig. 15.9). They all measure 0.09 × 0.09 m, and presumably ran the width of the ashlars, although at present they can only be measured to a depth of ca. 0.30 m; they are located at roughly equal distances from one another (2.9–3.4 m) and above the level of the foundations (1.85–2.10 m). These square holes should be interpreted as the vestiges of a system of socketed scaffolding used in construction.38 The putlogs inserted into these holes would not have carried the weight of the

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Figure 15.9. Details of four of the square cuttings in the face of the tower 7 walls

structure, but rather kept the scaffolding from pulling away from the face of the wall. A small stone inserted in one of these cuttings may indicate that in the final stages of construction, when the face of the wall was being smoothed, an effort was made to hide these holes as well. Similar holes cannot be identified anywhere along the section of wall around Tower 14, despite the fact that the similar height of the two sections of wall rules out the possibility that the absence of this feature is a matter of unequal states of preservation. It is possible that these holes are present on the eastern side of the Fortress due to the drop in ground level immediately outside the walls. Jenkins and Megaw long ago established that the surface level on the eastern side of the interior of the Fortress was artificially raised at the time of construction.39 This certainly would have presented builders of the Tower 7 section with an added challenge that they might have solved by building a more substantial structure to aid them in construction. Perhaps it is the case that the system of scaffolding used in the Tower 14 region was freestanding up to a much higher elevation.

Co nCLusions It is very difficult to explain these marked differences in both the process of construction and the manner of achieving the smooth, final finish of these two sections of the wall. It cannot be the case that these segments represent different phases of construction. As Gregory has demonstrated, the presence of bonded courses of masonry40 and the buttressing of critical points of juncture between wall segments41 leave little doubt that we are dealing with a structure that was planned and erected as a single defensive work. Moreover, the presence throughout the Fortress of architectural fragments recycled from the same buildings argues against an explanation based on

39. Jenkins and Megaw 1931–1932, pp. 79–82. 40. As at the Northeast Gate (Isthmia V, p. 56), Tower 15 and the entrance to its immediate west (Isthmia V, pp. 98–99), and Tower 2 (Isthmia V, pp. 110–111). 41. For example, the bastion outside the eastern wall of the Fortress behind Tower 2 (Isthmia V, p. 112).

work teams on the isthmian fortress

42. As evidence, Gregory points to the clustering of towers with similar dimensions along the course of the Hexamilion, the use of specific types of mortar in certain locations, and the irregular bonding of the fortress and Hexamilion walls at Towers 2 and 15. See Isthmia V, pp. 40, 98, 99, 110–112, 139. 43. Johnson 1983, pp. 36, 63–65, 91, 114. 44. Pallas 1961–1962, pp. 79–80; Isthmia V, pp. 98, 100, 113, 120.

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differences in the supply of materials. Neither does a preoccupation with structural integrity or relative visibility to outside viewers account for the differences noted here. In fact, a cursory survey of the Fortress shows that masonry styles similar to those represented by the Tower 7 and Tower 14 sections can be identified in various locations around the circuit wall. For example, the section of the Fortress near Tower 13 is remarkably similar to that of Tower 7, while the area between Towers 9 and 10 resembles that of Tower 14. Even more interestingly, the “Tower 7 style” bears a striking resemblance to the eastern tower of the South Gate, while the “Tower 14 style” resembles its western counterpart. Unfortunately, the scant remains of the Northeast Gate do not allow for an equally clear comparison, but given Gregory’s conclusions about the asymmetry of the towers there we might consider the possibility that these too represented different building styles. At the same time, it is an oversimplification to claim that the Tower 14 region represents lesser quality work, for the bonding of the tower to the wall in this section suggests a care for structural stability that is not seen in the joint between Tower 7 and the curtain wall. Rather, it is far more likely that these observable differences in construction technique are actually the result of individual teams of builders working simultaneously to meet the challenge of fortifying the Isthmus in a timely manner. Such a suggestion is by no means unique or surprising. In his study of the Hexamilion, Gregory had already identified a number of curious features that he attributed to the efforts of multiple work crews.42 And it certainly stands to reason that any project of this size and complexity would have required an enormous labor force, and the organization of builders in independent teams would have been the most efficient use of manpower.43 What is unique about this conclusion concerns the degree of autonomy that work crews enjoyed in determining their own unique solutions to the problems inherent in the use of building materials that had been quarried and carved for a different purpose. The reuse of architecture, especially in fortifications, may not have been a new phenomenon in the 5th century a.d., but the sheer quantity of material available for recycling, not to mention the visibility of that material in the facade of structures like the Hexamilion, represented a new challenge for later Roman architects and builders. The differences in construction seen here at Isthmia would suggest that instead of providing a detailed building plan for this fortification, those in charge of the project simply issued general instructions concerning the course, dimensions, material supplies, and overall appearance of the wall. They then left it to those who actually carried out these directions to utilize whatever traditions and daily innovations each found to be the best solution to the task at hand. Thus, the soldiers, masons, and various other types of workers, who must have been gathered from all parts of the Greek world, would have relied upon their own unique traditions in an effort to erect a strong defense of the Isthmus. In fact, the uniqueness of individual teams’ styles of construction may well have become a point of pride for some. Previous studies of the Fortress and the Hexamilion have revealed numerous traces of graffiti etched into both the blocks forming the defensive walls and the wet mortar used to hold them in place.44 Many examples are located in areas where different

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parts of the fortifications come together, suggesting that these marks were meant to identify sections of construction as the work of a particular team. In one of the few studies that goes beyond a simple mention of varieties of construction as evidence for work crews, DeLaine has argued for a similar organization of labor during construction of the Baths of Caracalla.45 However, nearly all of the examples she cites for differences in building style would have been hidden beneath the marble revetment and plaster of the finished building. At Isthmia, as with most fortifications, the finished ashlar facade was visible to all and may well have had an influence on the ways in which spolia was used in other public monuments into the Early Byzantine era. As such, it is worth considering the possibility that the development of the aesthetic use of spolia had its origins not in the churches of early Christianity, but in the walls that once protected them. For the present moment though, the results of this study suggest not only a possible explanation for the noticeable heterogeneity of architectural works erected in this period, but also a potential process by which that initial diversity could have developed into what may be referred to as the architectural “canon” of the later Roman and Medieval periods. All too often, the appearance of later Roman architecture has been attributed (at worst) to a loss of ability and skill or (at best) to a conscious rejection of the classical canon driven by ideological or religious motivation. In contrast to these negative interpretations, this study offers another, more positive way of understanding the lack of uniformity that is so jarring to classically trained eyes. It may well have been the builders of architecture at the lower ranks—the masons and individual work teams—rather than their overseers who brought about this architectural revolution. For, placed side by side and given the same general instructions, these work crews were left to rely upon their own building traditions to devise creative ways of dealing with a new and increasingly available supply of building material quarried from preexisting structures. As can be seen here in the case of the Fortress at Isthmia, such a set of initial criteria resulted in at least two widely differing, yet equally inventive methods of reusing the blocks from the classical sanctuary. Should the results of this study find parallels elsewhere,46 we may well be able to conclude that the architecture of the later Roman period was not born at the lofty conceptual level of the sponsor or architect but at the lower and far more practical level of the individual masons who, when charged with the daunting task of defending the empire, responded not with stagnation and paralysis, but with an innovative and cooperative spirit that recalls the earlier tradition of panhellenism for which Isthmia was so famous.

45. DeLaine 1997, pp. 138, 163– 164, 172–174. For a discussion of the evidence for the organization of guilds in late antiquity, see Ousterhout 1999, pp. 49–57. 46. In this regard, De Staebler’s (2008) study of the defenses of Aphrodisias is most promising.

c hap ter 16

epi g rap hy, L i t u r g y, an d im p e r i al Pol i c y on t h e J ust i n i an i c i st h mu s by William R. Caraher

The last 50 years have produced a massive increase in our understanding of the Late Roman Isthmus. Excavations at Isthmia and Kenchreai, intensive pedestrian survey, and the careful study of material from the nearby site of Corinth have provided a solid foundation for the reevaluation of the Late Antique period both on the Isthmus and in Greece more generally.1 Despite the important advances in the archaeology of the eastern Corinthia, the epigraphy of this region has received scant attention. The texts from Kenchreai and Isthmia, in particular, require renewed consideration in light of our expanded understanding of both the archaeology and epigraphy of Late Roman Greece.2 In this study I offer a new interpretation of the well-known Justinianic inscription from Isthmia and, to a lesser extent, the inscription of the same date typically associated with the walls of the city of Corinth. My new interpretation of these texts benefits not only from recent work on Late Roman and Byzantine inscriptions in Greece but also from the growing interest in the social and cultural context of inscribed texts in general.3 Combining these developments with recent work on the Late Roman Isthmus will allow me to argue that the Justinianic inscriptions from the Corinthia manifest a sophisticated imperial policy which sought to unify liturgical, military, and political authority in the person of the emperor. In doing so, these inscriptions represent a particularly clear example of the close integration of religious and secular authority that would come to characterize imperial politics during the middle decades of the 6th century.4 To reach these conclusions I will evaluate the cultural, political, and archaeological context of these texts and show that the strategic significance of the Isthmus in the 6th-century Mediterranean made it an especially appropriate location for imperial assertions of religious and political primacy. 1. Kenchreai I; Wiseman 1978; Gregory 1985, 1993b, 1995; Isthmia V; Sanders 1999, 2005; Rothaus 2000; Slane and Sanders 2005; Pettegrew 2006; Isthmia IX. The translations in this chapter are by the author unless otherwise indi-

cated. 2. Feissel 1983; Feissel and Philippidis-Braat 1985; Avramea and Feissel 1987; Sironen 1997; Kiourtzian 2000. The Late Roman inscriptions from Kenchreai are under study by Joseph Rife. The work of the late Daniel

Geagan, on the Roman-period inscriptions from the Santuary of Poseidon, is being prepared for publication by Matthew Trundle. 3. Day 1999; Papalexandrou 2001, 2007; Tuerk 2002; Moralee 2004. 4. Cameron 1978, 1979.

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The significance of the Isthmus in the wider world of the 6th-century Mediterranean derived from its position as a geographic, religious, and political crossroads. Scholars have long recognized the importance of the Isthmus at the juncture of both north–south and east–west travel in the Mediterranean.5 The advantages of its geographic location were realized in antiquity as well.6 Even before Roman rule unified the Mediterranean, the economic benefits of the Isthmus’s location helped to enrich the territory of Corinth.7 In Roman times the territory served as a vital link between the eastern and western Mediterranean and the Adriatic and the Aegean worlds. As the politically unified Roman Mediterranean disintegrated over the 4th, 5th, and 6th centuries, the Isthmus’s liminal character became more visible as it formed both an east–west corridor of travel between the Roman East and the increasingly unstable West and part of a natural border to the Peloponnese. The most visible of these was the trans-Isthmian Hexamilion wall, which served to impede north–south movement. The Fortress at Isthmia not only buttressed this wall but also stood astride a major north– south route and was positioned to block east–west movement across the Isthmus as well.8 Throughout late antiquity, these fortifications marked the Isthmus as a frontier zone between the relative stability of the eastern Mediterranean, the unstable Danubian frontier, and the fragmented West. The Isthmus was also a zone of overlapping ecclesiastical and political jurisdiction. Despite the proximity of the territory to the imperial capital, Greece (Late Roman Achaea) remained part of the ecclesiastical province of Illyricum, which was under the jurisdiction of the papacy. Justinian’s policies for the Isthmus and throughout the Mediterranean emphasized the territorial and religious unity of the empire. In working to achieve this in the West, he articulated a religious policy that both accommodated and appropriated the religious authority vested in an increasingly autonomous papacy, which exerted considerable political and religious influence in the recently reconquered Italy. Justinian’s political and theological wrangling with the papacy complemented his effort to fortify this vulnerable part of the empire and supports arguments that he worked to promote the loyalty and stability of the strategically important provinces throughout the empire.9 In this context, the Isthmus represented both a military and religious frontier zone.

tH e insC riP t ions The Justinianic inscription from the Isthmus, referred to here as the Viktorinos inscription (Fig. 16.1), is familiar to most scholars of the Corinthia as it resided for years on the wall of the Corinth Museum courtyard (but is 5. Fowden 1995; McCormick 2003, pp. 69–74, 531–537; Pettegrew 2006, pp. 41–53. 6. Pettegrew 2006, pp. 59–67. 7. Salmon 1984. On the importance of the Isthmus for the Roman city, cf. Engels 1990.

8. Gregory (Isthmia V, pp. 129–131) does not mention the role of the Fortress as an impediment to east–west movement. 9. Pringle 1981; Fowden 1993, pp. 101–102; Curta 2001, pp. 120–189; Greatrex 2005, pp. 491–498.

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Figure 16.1. Viktorinos inscription, archaeological Museum, isthmia (IG iV 204). Photo courtesy Ohio State

now happily back in the Archaeological Museum at Isthmia). The text has been the object of numerous commentaries in the past.10 It reads as follows:

University Excavations at Isthmia

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10. Monceaux 1884, pp. 277–278; Skias 1893, p. 123; IG IV 204; Lambros 1905, pp. 438–439; Lampakis 1906, pp. 46–47; Bees 1941, pp. 1–5, no. 1; Groag 1946, p. 79; Corinth VIII.3, pp. 168–169, no. 508; Feissel and Philippidis-Braat 1985, pp. 279–280, no. 16; Isthmia V, pp. 12–13, no. 4. The translation reproduced here is from Isthmia V. 11. Isthmia V, p. 15, no. 8. 12. Monceaux 1884, pp. 277–278. 13. There are particularly close parallels from North Africa (Pringle 1981, pp. 319, 327, nos. 4, 29) and from Syria (IGLSyr I 145–147). See also an inscription of similar date originally in the city wall of Byllis in Albania, SEG XXXVIII 530–533, naming Viktorinos and inscribed with similarly sized letters. 14. Cameron 1967.

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✠ Φῶς ἐκ φωτός, Θεὸς ἀληθινὸς ἐκ Θεοῦ ἀληθινοῦ, φυλάξη τὸν αὐτοκράτορα Ἰουστινιανὸν καὶ τὸν πιστὸν αὐτοῦ δοῦλον Βικτωρῖνον ἅμα τοῖς οἰκοῦσειν ἐν Ἑλάδι τοὺς κ(α)τ(ὰ) Θεὼν ζῶντας. ✠

Light of light, true God of true God, guard the emperor Justinian and his faithful servant Viktorinos along with those who dwell in Greece living according to God. This text was known as early as the 15th century from a Byzantine Short Chronicle that testified to the discovery of the stone during the reconstruction of the Hexamilion wall in 1415, during the reign of Manuel II.11 Monceaux rediscovered the text in 1883 in loose fill near the South Gate of the Fortress.12 The stone is a reused marble cornice measuring 0.635 × 0.958 m. The letters, inscribed in a tabula ansata field, stand 0.045–0.051 m in height for the first seven lines and 0.021–0.024 m for the final line. The size, content, and shape of the inscription suggest that it was probably built into a gate, perhaps above the arch, as was common elsewhere in the Mediterranean during the Justinianic period.13 There are two gates into the Fortress and the Northeast Gate is the more elaborate, making it the most likely original location for this inscription. Cameron has referred to the language of this text as an example of “unadorned and unimpeachably Christian prose.”14 It follows a common pattern for Early Christian inscriptions throughout the Mediterranean world. Beginning with a short invocation, the inscription then asks the divine to protect, in order, the emperor Justinian, Viktorinos, and then those

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living in Greece. In doing so it uses the verb φυλάσσω in either the subjunctive (φυλάξῃ) or future indicative (φυλάξει). Typical of inscriptions of this period, the last phrase in the text displays some irregular grammar with a dative participle (τοῖς οἰκούσειν as a misspelled form of οἰκοῦσιν) and an accusative participle (ζῶντας) arranged in a parallel construction. There are other orthographic infelicities as well: Θεών for the accusative Θεόν. The best parallel for the language in this inscription is a very similar text typically associated with the city wall of Corinth,15 and now in Verona. The similarities between the Isthmia and the Corinth inscriptions, and the likely close proximity of their original provenience, make it useful to discuss the two texts together. Consequently, I provide the text of the Corinth inscription here:16

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✠ Ἁγ(ία) Μαρία Θεοτόκε, φύλαξον τὴν βασιλείαν τοῦ φιλοχρίστου Ἰουστινιανοῦ καὶ τὸν γνησίως δουλεύοντα αὐτῷ Βικτωρῖνον σὺν τοῖς οἰκοῦσιν ἐν Κορίνθῳ κ(ατὰ) Θεὼν ζῶντας. ✠

Holy Mary, Theotokos, safeguard the empire of the Christ-loving Justinian and his faithful servant Viktorinos, along with those who dwell in Corinth living according to God. There are obvious similarities between these two texts in content and form. Both texts number among a relatively small group of inscriptions from southern and central Greece that specifically mention the emperor Justinian.17 They refer to a certain Viktorinos, a figure known from inscriptions elsewhere in the southern Balkans to have been active in the construction of fortifications.18 Their close association with fortifications provides independent evidence for some of the activities reported in Book 4 of Procopius’s Buildings.19 Finally, the texts are clearly contemporary. The absence of Theodora’s name in both texts recommends a date after her death in 548. If the texts are to be associated with the refortification of the Isthmus described by Procopius, then it seems most plausible to date these works to after the earthquakes that he reports having struck the city of Corinth, perhaps in 552, but before 560, the latest possible date in the Buildings.20 There are differences between the two texts as well, most notably in the invocation. The Isthmia inscription starts with an appeal to God that most likely derives from the language of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed. The use of this phrase in monumental inscriptions is exceedingly rare,21 suggesting that it may have had particular significance at that moment on the Isthmus. In contrast, the Corinth text calls upon the Theotokos as protector, an especially early example of her in this role. This function of the Theotokos would become quite common in the 7th century. The two texts also differ in whom they were intended to protect. The Corinth text asks the Theotokos to protect those living in Corinth, and this presumably

15. Isthmia V, p. 14; Gregory 2000, p. 113. Feissel (1977, pp. 222–223) has shown that Cyriacus of Ancona saw the text at Isthmia in the first half of the 15th century. It is appealing to imagine that both of these texts once stood in the Fortress, perhaps on the Northeast and South Gates. 16. IG IV 205; Bees 1941, pp. 5–9, no. 2; Guarducci 1978, pp. 327–330, no. 2; Feissel and Philippidis-Braat 1985, pp. 281–282, no. 18; Isthmia V, p. 14, no. 5. The translation reproduced here is from Isthmia V. 17. Feissel 1983, pp. 81–82, 128– 130, nos. 81, 133; Feissel and Philippidis-Braat 1985, pp. 277–279, no. 15. 18. SEG XXXVIII 530–533. 19. Procop. Aed. 4.2.27–28. 20. The debate over the date of the Buildings is considerable: Evans 1969; 1996, pp. 305–306; Gregory 2000, p. 113. Whitby (1985, pp. 141–147) places the publication of the Buildings in 560; Cameron (1985, pp. 3–18) favors a date in 554. 21. Both examples come from Egypt: IGChrEg 752, 753.

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accounts for why scholars have associated it with the walls of the city. The penultimate line of the Isthmia text asks God to protect Hellas, which seemingly refers to the region of southern and central Greece, as Bees noted, and thus the inscription is well suited for its place at the entrance to the Peloponnese.22 Despite the similarities between the two texts, the individuals responsible for these inscriptions remain obscure, and the identity of Viktorinos is problematic. Feissel offered the unprecedented suggestion that he was an architect for Justinian,23 while other commentators on these texts, including Gregory, have proposed that he was more likely an imperial official, perhaps the Praetorian Prefect of Illyricum.24 While none of the arguments for Viktorinos’s specific position in the imperial administration are wholly persuasive, his appearance in inscriptions associated with fortification projects in Achaea and also in Epirus nevertheless suggests that he was a prominent imperial official.25 Equally vexing is that these inscriptions lack any mention of local officials. Many, if not most, Justinianic inscriptions from a similar context in the East share credit with the local secular, military, or ecclesiastical elite.26 The absence of local elite in the Isthmian and Corinthian texts located the position of protecting “those who dwell in Greece living according to God” to a hierarchy starting with God first, then the Virgin, and finally Viktorinos. The link between the individuals mentioned in the texts and their placement on the Fortress at Isthmia confirms Procopius’s assertion of imperial patronage, all the more reasonable considering the possible scale of the renovations.27 Furthermore, the lack of any signs of local involvement allows us to suggest imperial authorship—or, at the very least, imperially directed authorship—for these inscriptions.

tH e i n s C ri P t ion s in tH e Con text oF Lat e roMan ri t ua L The absence of local patronage and the position of the inscriptions on a fortification encourage us to read these texts as expressions of imperial power on the Isthmus. As such, the language of the texts provides an avenue for exploring how Justinian’s administration sought to promulgate imperial authority. The following analysis will focus on the inscription from Isthmia, but many of the points raised here will apply equally to the Corinth text. Before a detailed analysis of this text can proceed, however, it is necessary to make explicit some assumptions regarding the way that inscriptions functioned in their historical and cultural context. It is now widely accepted that inscriptions are integrative texts that draw upon a wide variety of genres to communicate meaning. Public, 22. Bees 1941, pp. 2–3. It was overlooked, however, during the rather extensive debate regarding the location of Hellas during the 6th century; see Charanis 1955, pp. 161–163, for a brief summary.

23. Feissel 1988, pp. 139–141; Bowden 2003, pp. 178–180. 24. Isthmia V, p. 13, but it is not clear whether Achaea is part of Illyricum Orientalis at this time (see Bon 1951, p. 8; Avramea 1997, pp. 35–37).

25. Bowden 2003, pp. 178–180. 26. Croke and Crow 1983, pp. 147– 148. 27. See Pringle 1981, pp. 89–91, for a discussion of the role of the emperor in the process of building fortifications.

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monumental inscriptions expected the reader to understand the logic of the text and to recognize how the text created a distinct time, space, and even authorial voice by drawing together diverse allusions, genres, and references from outside the text itself. The generically heteroglot composition of inscriptions combined with their typically compact length to produce documents dense in meaning and interpretative potential.28 Recent work on the oral character of inscribed texts has emphasized the tendency for monumental inscriptions to draw upon the language of familiar rituals to communicate complex meanings.29 This approach is especially significant for the reign of Justinian, which saw the growing confluence of a number of oral genres, such as acclamations and liturgical hymns and prayers, and written genres, such as epigraphy and hagiography, in the production of a new, synthetic, deeply Christianized public discourse.30 The most simple, syntactical expression of the Isthmia inscription’s debt to oral genres is that it employs what appears to be the subjunctive to make the text itself call out. The verb φυλάσσω occurred regularly in the subjunctive (φυλάξῃ) and the imperative (φύλαξον, as in the Corinth inscription), across a wide range of informal ritual texts including prophylactic amulets, Christian relic ampullae, and mosaic floors of Christian basilicas.31 Such hortatory or imperative requests for protection are often read as inscribed prayers which grammatically simulate a call to God for help or protection.32 This coincides well with the most common context for φυλάσσω: on the lintels of houses, fortresses, and churches throughout the East. In these cases the text alludes to Psalm 120:8 (LXX): κύριος φυλάξει τὴν εἴσοδόν σου καὶ τὴν ἔξοδόν σου ἀπὸ τοῦ νῦν καὶ ἕως τοῦ αἰῶνος (“The Lord will guard your entrance and your exit from now until eternity”).33 In fact, it seems possible that the preference for the subjunctive over the imperative in the Isthmia text is its oral (and, to a lesser extent, syntactical) resonance with the future indicative φυλάξει in the psalm.34 Similar alterations of this psalm occur elsewhere in the eastern Mediterranean.35 A single example exists from Attica: a text clearly derived from Psalm 120 reads [Κ](ύριο) ς φυλάξη τὴν εἴσοδον ταύ[την].36 By using a word that could be in either the subjunctive or the future indicative, the author fused together two traditions, that of Psalm 120:8 and that of imperative calls for protection. Both readings would be consistent with its probable location above a gate into the Fortress at Isthmia. The use of the word φυλάξει in combination with the name of the emperor and an imperial office echoes ritual acclamations that had become particularly popular in late antiquity. Acclamations were short, frequently metrical texts chanted by crowds on a public occasion. During late antiquity, this genre became an important mode for communicating mass political attitudes toward sources of authority in both supportive and subversive ways. By the reign of Justinian acclamations became a common feature at the hippodrome, at ecumenical councils, at the adventus of elite personages into cities, and at the dedication of important monuments.37 The inscriptions from the Isthmus echoed imperial acclamations that used the future indicative to state unequivocally that God will protect the emperor.38 The crowds of Constantinople, for example, marked the accession of Anastasius with an acclamation: εὐσεβῆ βασιλέα Θεός φυλάξει (“The Lord

28. See Bakhtin 1981 for a basic description of heteroglossia. 29. In some cases these texts could be the kind of performative utterances described by Austin (1962) and Tambiah (1968); and studied in late antiquity by Tuerk (1999) and Day (1999), and in Byzantium by Papalexandrou (2001). 30. Brown 1973, pp. 5–9; Nelson 1976; Cameron 1979; McCormick 1986, pp. 238–247; Harvey 1998. 31. For a discussion of phylakteria, see Vikan 1984, pp. 76–80. For the use of φυλάσσω in mosaic, see the basilica at Klapsi in Eurytania: Chatzidakis 1958, p. 61. 32. Vikan 1984; Kotansky 1991, pp. 119–121; Day 1999. 33. See, e.g., IGLSyr IV 1456, 1466–1468, 1567, 1571, 1680, 1695. 34. See Tuerk 1999, pp. 32–35, for a similar observation. 35. See, e.g., IGLSyr IV 1466, 1467, 1887. 36. Sironen 1997, p. 345, no. 342. 37. Cameron 1979, pp. 5–11. For a brief discussion of metrical inscriptions honoring local elites in Greece, see Sironen 1997, pp. 54–55. For acclamations from the vicinity of Corinth, see Sironen 1992–1994. 38. MacCormack 1981, pp. 244– 245.

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39. Const. Porphy. De Cer. 1.92 (p. 424); cf. a similar chant at the accession of Leo, Const. Porphy. De Cer. 1.91 (pp. 411–412). For a general discussion of these ceremonies, see MacCormack 1981, p. 245. 40. Roueché 1984, pp. 183–186. 41. Day 1999, pp. 249–250. For Late Roman ritual generally: MacCormack 1981; McCormick 1986; Baldovin 1987; Mathews 2003. 42. Soteriou 1929; Orlandos 1957; Mathews 1971, pp. 119–121; Pallas 1979, 1979–1980, 1984. 43. Taft 1992, pp. 22–29. 44. Pallas 1977, p. 171. 45. Slane and Sanders 2005, pp. 291–292. 46. Sanders 2005, p. 439. 47. Jakobs 1987, pp. 255–256. 48. Xydis 1947; Mathews 1971, p. 110; Sodini 1975; Jakobs 1987.

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will protect the blessed monarch”).39 Roueché first drew attention to the close ties between acclamations as an oral genre and inscribed texts from Aphrodisias and Ephesus.40 The hierarchical nature of acclamatory texts invoked parallels with Late Roman urban rituals, particularly Late Roman processions, which like these texts were organized strictly according to rank and reinforced the position of the emperor as mediator between his subjects and the divine.41 While the generic similarities to humble prayers, biblical passages, and acclamations would have been clear to the Late Roman audience, it is likely that the most obvious reference in the Isthmia inscription was to the liturgy. Unfortunately, our understanding of the liturgy in Late Roman Greece is poor. No text survives aside from various short inscriptions. Consequently, the primary source for understanding the character of Christian ritual remains the numerous Early Christian basilicas excavated over the past century. Soteriou, Orlandos, Pallas, and others endeavored to use the remains of these buildings to propose a distinctive shape to the Greek liturgy with roots in the confluence of western and eastern influences.42 While using architecture to reconstruct the precise details of a complex ritual is ill-advised, a significant number of architectural characteristics distinct to Greek basilicas demonstrate that the liturgy in Greece had its own unique style. Nevertheless, several architectural clues, the position of the Greek church at the confluence of the East and West in the Mediterranean and its tense ecclesiastical relationship with the church of Constantinople during the 5th century marked out some influence from the West. When considered in the context of ecclesiastical and imperial politics as well as architecture, the influence of the liturgy of the eastern capital during the 6th century stands out. As elsewhere in the East, it seems probable that the Constantinopolitan liturgy became increasingly prevalent in Greece from the second half of the 6th century at the expense of local liturgical practices.43 The most spectacular example of eastern influence on the Isthmus is the massive Lechaion basilica. Pallas used coins of Justin I (518–527) to provide a terminus post quem for the latest phase of the building;44 Slane and Sanders have recently suggested that construction of the building may not have begun until after 525, and that the building continued to stand throughout the 6th century.45 A Justinianic date, along with the generous use of Proconesian marble, the brilliant and costly opus sectile floors, and its imposing size, recommends this church as an imperial foundation.46 While some features in this church reflect local practice, such as the absence of an axial opening into the narthex, the high stylobates of the nave colonnade, and the tripartite transept, other elements provide strong evidence for Constantinopolitan influences. The most obvious Constantinopolitan feature in the church is the centrally placed ambo linked to the chancel by an elevated solea with a low parapet screen.47 This arrangement in the nave has strong parallels with the centrally placed ambos of Constantinople and is distinct from the arrangement of ambos elsewhere in Greece, which tend to be offset to the north or south of the nave’s central axis.48 The centrally placed ambo and accompanying solea is incongruous with the architecture of the church and with the common reconstruction of the Greek liturgy. Most

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scholars have plausibly suggested that the congregation stood in the aisles, separated from the central nave by raised stylobates and intercolumnar parapet screens, leaving the central axis of the church open for clerical movement and processions.49 In this reconstruction, there would be little need for the solea, which functioned to protect the clergy from the press of the congregation in the nave as they made their way to the ambo for the readings.50 The solea in the Lechaion basilica served either to evoke similar churches in Constantinople or to accommodate a liturgy that drew important characteristics from the practices of the capital. Allusions to the Constantinopolitan liturgy appear in other Justinianic foundations in the West. The best-known example comes from the sanctuary mosaics at San Vitale in Ravenna, which date to at least five years earlier than our inscriptions. The mosaics on either side of the sanctuary depict the emperor and empress and their retinue in procession. Simson argued that this represented the offertory procession,51 and Mathews advocated the First Entrance.52 In either case, the scenes in these well-known mosaics can only be understood as an expression of the Constantinopolitan rite and present an important statement of imperial primacy in the western provinces. Even though the emperor is depicted as subordinate to the local bishop in these mosaics, the scenes from the Constantinopolitan rite reflect the reach of imperial policy even amidst such influential Sees as Ravenna, Milan, and Rome. This display at Ravenna is all the more striking when we consider that some two centuries earlier at Milan such presumption on the part of the emperor Theodosius earned an embarrassing reprimand at the hands of Milan’s bishop, Ambrose.53 The Isthmia inscription likewise reflects the growing influence of the eastern capital. The first two lines of the text derive from the NiceneConstantinopolitan Creed. During the 5th century and earlier, the Creed was primarily a literary text that did not receive broad circulation outside elite polemical, historical, or theological tracts.54 The Creed is absent from all known 5th-century liturgies in the Mediterranean and seems to have appeared exclusively in the annual Baptismal rites in Constantinople during the Good Friday Catechesis.55 By the early 6th century, however, the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed had become a regular part of the Constantinopolitan liturgy. The compromise-oriented patriarch Timothy (511–518) installed the Creed in the liturgy during the reign of Anastasius I (491–518), although at least one source suggests that it derived from the Antiochene liturgy of Peter the Fuller.56 By the reign of Justin I (518–527), Justinian’s immediate predecessor, its place in the liturgy was regularized, and it appears to have persisted in the liturgy throughout Justinian’s reign. In contrast to the Creed’s celebrated presence in the Constantinopolitan liturgy, it does not appear in the Roman church until the 10th century.57 In fact, the first known reference to the Creed by a western bishop comes in an encyclical letter issued by Pope Vigilius in 552, roughly contemporary with the Isthmia inscription.58 Elsewhere in the West, there is no evidence for the Creed in the liturgy prior to the last decades of the 6th century. In light of the oral character of the inscription from Isthmia and the seeming obscurity of the Creed in the public discourse of the empire, the short excerpt from the Creed in this inscription seems to be another example of evidence for the influence of the Constantinopolitan liturgy in Greece.

49. Mathews 1971, pp. 119–120; Sanders 2005, pp. 440–441. 50. Mathews 1971, pp. 124–125. 51. Simson [1948] 1987, p. 30. 52. Mathews 2003, p. 171. 53. Theodoret, HE 5.17. 54. See Kelly 1950, pp. 332–367, for the basic history of the Creed’s promulgation. 55. Taft 1975, pp. 398–402; Kelly 1950, pp. 348–349; Theodorus Lector, EH 2, frag. 48 (PG 86, 208). There has been some ambiguity regarding the exact text of the creed read in the church by the patriarch Timothy, but Taft and Kelly have argued persuasively that the creed was, in fact, the so-called Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, which was formalized as the Creed of the Council of Nicaea only at Chalcedon in 451. 56. Kelly 1950, pp. 348–349; Theodorus Lector, EH 2, frag. 48. 57. Kelly 1950, pp. 356–357. 58. Mansi 9.50–55; Kelly 1950, p. 346.

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59. Deissmann [1927] 1995, p. 455; Feissel 1983, pp. 190–191. 60. Brightman 1896, 389.28–29. 61. Feissel 1983, pp. 190–192, no. 223. 62. See Taft 1992, pp. 22–41, for a short description of the development of the Byzantine rite. 63. Taft 1975, pp. 48–49, 398–403; 1991, pp. 58–59, 185. 64. Day 1999; Prentice 1902. For examples, see Feissel 1983, nos. 15, 35, 180, 208, 277, 281; Kiourtzian 2000, nos. 3, 11, 67, 92. 65. Baumann (1999, pp. 292–295) has questioned the influence of the liturgy on simple texts from late antiquity, suggesting rather that long-standing pagan traditions played a greater role in shaping the epigraphic late antiquity. See Moralee 2004, pp. 89–90, for a more moderate view. 66. Nelson 1976, pp. 101–105; Cameron 1979, pp. 15–17. 67. Just. Novel. 137.6; Trembelas 1955, pp. 211–213; Meyendorff 1993, p. 76. 68. John Moschos Pratum Sp. 25. 69. McCormick 1986, pp. 245–246.

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A less pronounced echo of liturgical language, although perhaps every bit as significant, is the final phrase of the text—ἅμα τοῖς οἰκοῦσειν ἐν Ἑλάδι τοὺς κ(α)τ(ὰ) Θεὼν ζῶντας. Both Deissmann and Feissel parallel this phrase with the language of liturgical commemoration or the diptychs in the somewhat later Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom.59 It reads: Μνήσθητι, Κύριε, τῆς πόλεως ἐν ᾖ παροικοῦμεν καὶ πάσης πόλεως καὶ χώρας καὶ τῶν πίσει κατοικούντων ἐν αὐταῖς (“Remember, Lord, the city in which we live and all the cities and the countryside and those dwelling in faith in them”).60 A much restored inscription from the Neapolis Gate at Philippi also seems to echo a version of this phrase: [ . . . καὶ φύλαξον τοὺς ἐ]ν σοὶ κατο[ι]κοῦντας εἰς δόξα[ν σου].61 While the evidence for the exact text of the Constantinopolitan liturgy that would ultimately become the liturgy of St. John Chrysostom is problematic at this point in history, the similarities between these texts and the text preserved in our earliest 8th-century manuscript of the liturgy is suggestive.62 Moreover, there are natural parallels between this form of liturgical commemoration and the acclamations from which it likely drew inspiration. It was ordered hierarchically and a common means to express official sanction. Finally, the link between the initial lines of the creed and the later text from the diptychs of the living forms a neat parallel with the structure of some known rites from late antiquity in which the Creed followed the diptychs at the conclusion of the pre-anaphoral rites.63 While one should not make too much of this organization, it is nonetheless suggestive in light of the clear link between the Creed and the liturgy. The importance of liturgy as a regular experience in Late Roman society undoubtedly accounted for the emerging use of known, liturgical texts across the whole range of Late Antique epigraphy.64 The references to the liturgy were interwoven with allusions to simple prayers, acclamations, and dedicatory formulas. The 6th-century melding together of simple prayers for protection, which have a long tradition in the eastern Mediterranean, and liturgical language, however, demonstrates the liturgical influence on the religious discourse of the day.65 This reading of the Isthmia text would be consistent with the growing “liturgification” of late antiquity more broadly.66 Numerous sources attest to the growing spectacle of liturgical processions and gestures during the 6th century. Justinian, in particular, sought to ensure that the words of the liturgy played a key role in the ritual by legislating that the clergy should speak loud enough for the congregation to hear.67 At a more popular level, there was growing acceptance that the use of liturgical language provided access to divine power even among the unsuspecting and unconsecrated. The best-known example of this comes from John Moschos’s Pratum Spiritualis, which describes boys from Apamea who uttered the prayer of consecration while pretending to be priests celebrating the liturgy.68 Upon doing this, a flame from heaven consumed the bread that their prayers had consecrated in order to prevent its defilement. Finally, under Justinian the liturgy began to appear regularly in military practices that linked the liturgy clearly to victory.69 Thus, the presence of a text invoking the Constantinopolitan liturgy would have quite plausibly resonated not only with the ritual life of the Corinthians, for whom the Lechaion basilica would also be a reminder, but also with the ritual life of soldiers stationed at the fortification at Isthmia.

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tH e insC riP t ions in tH e PoLi t i Ca L Co ntext oF Constant inoP Le an D aC H ae a The significance of our two inscriptions in the context of the province of Achaea in particular depends upon our recognition of this place as both an important crossroads of the Mediterranean and also a place of particularly tangled lines of political and religious authority. By the middle years of the 6th century, Justinian recognized the challenges of this split authority in Illyricum and attempted to reorganize both the political and ecclesiastical structure of the prefecture of Illyricum Orientalis, as well as the larger provincial administration of the empire.70 Despite these efforts, Achaea and its bishop at Corinth remained within the political jurisdiction of the emperor at Constantinople, but within the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of the papacy. These divergent lines of political and religious authority in the province had created difficulties for past emperors.71 During the 5th century, for example, a contested election of the bishop of Corinth led to the calling of a council under the authority of the bishop of Thessaloniki and the Pope and a later appeal to the emperor Theodosius II. In the late 5th and early 6th century, the Acacian Schism exacerbated the conflict between papal and imperial jurisdiction in the southern Balkans by adding an explicitly Christological aspect to the jurisdictional dipute.72 Throughout this time, Balkan bishops consistently appear among those who sided with the strict Chalcedonianism of the Pope against the emperor’s persistent efforts to seek doctrinal unity across the Mediterranean basin.73 The rift between the Chalcedonian bishops of Illyricum and those accepting the imperial compromise remained unresolved until Justin renounced the Henotikon in 519. The reconciliation between Justin and the Pope, however, was not rooted in mutual understanding. The emperor saw this as a necessary step toward promoting secular and spiritual unity under an imperial authority, whereas the Pope recognized the reconciliation as a concession to papal authority in spiritual matters.74 Consequently tensions persisted in Illyricum throughout Justinian’s reign. The best known of these conflicts emerged during the “Three Chapters Controversy,” which was nearly contemporary with the Isthmian and Corinthian inscriptions. This theological dispute focused on the Origenist character of certain works of Theodore of Mopsuestia, Ibas of Edessa, and Theodoret of Cyrrhus and resulted in Justinian calling the Fifth Ecumenical Council to find middle ground between strict Chalcedonianism and its opponents. He expected that the support of his handpicked pope, Vigilius, would facilitate the melding of religious and political authority in Illyricum and the West, but Vigilius challenged the findings of the council before it had even concluded.75 Vigilius rejected Justinian’s position in a text called the Constitutum, which 16 western bishops endorsed, including two from Illyricum.76 In the end, the theological stakes of this conflict were low, but the political stakes were high. Scholars have seen this dispute as having less to do with the theological dispositions of the three works in question than with the authority of the emperor over the entire church, including the papacy.77 While the specific impact of these disputes in Achaea remains shadowy at best, it is clear that Justinian’s policy of trying to root ecclesiastical unity in imperial authority manifests itself in the province. By influencing

70. Markus 1979; Avramea 1997, pp. 35–36; Haldon 2005, pp. 48–50. 71. Charanis 1974; Pietri 1984; Avramea 1997, pp. 37–38; Limberis 2005; Sotinel 2005. 72. Frend 1972, pp. 184–295; 1976; Charanis 1974. 73. See Charanis 1974 for the best summary of this situation. 74. Sotinel 2005, pp. 277–281. 75. Sotinel 1992. 76. Sotinel 1992. 77. Sotinel 1992; 2005, p. 281.

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78. For the diptychs, see Taft 1991, pp. 122–126. For the trisagion, see Schulz 1986, pp. 21–24; Day 1999. 79. Kelly 1950, pp. 348–350; Taft 1975, pp. 398–402. 80. For Justin I, see Mansi 7.1057– 1065; Kelly 1950, pp. 349–350. For Justin II, see Cameron 1976a, pp. 54– 55. 81. Limberis 1994, p. 189. Cameron (1978, 1979) suggests that the emergence of the Theotokos as the protector of the city of Constantinople occurred after the reign of Justinian, sometime between the beginning of the reign of Justin II and the Avar and Slav siege of 626. 82. Baynes 1949; Cameron 1976a. 83. She is mentioned in the other Viktorinos text from Byllis in Epirus: SEG XXXVIII 531. The first line of this metrical inscription uses classicizing language to invoke God and the Virgin: Θεοῦ προνοίᾳ καὶ Θεοτόκου παρθένου. The classical style of this inscription, however, makes it different from the two inscriptions from the Corinthia. More importantly, the inscription from Byllis does not specifically call upon the Theotokos to protect the city. 84. Procop. Aed. 1.3.6–10. 85. Procop. Aed. 6.2.20, 6.4.4, 6.5.9.

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liturgical practice, Justinian employed tactics familiar from elsewhere in the Mediterranean in which the liturgy was used as a divisive force in theological conflicts. By excluding the imperial, patriarchal, or papal name from the liturgical diptychs, or including certain politically charged liturgical prayers, like the trisagion, the liturgy became a battlefield for theological and jurisdictional conflicts.78 In this context we can see the place of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed in the liturgy as part of Justinian’s efforts to negotiate a theological compromise. From its initial inclusion in the liturgy, the Creed represented a commitment to the Christology of Nicaea which could represent a rejection of Chalcedon.79 Thus, the Creed could represent the mild monophysitism of the emperor Anastasius, the compromising policies of Justinian, and the rather more strict Chalcedonianism of his predecessor Justin I and his successor Justin II.80 It harkened to a time before the formulation of Chalcedon when the church and empire were less torn by Christological conflicts. It is crucial to stress that the seemingly ambivalent status of the Creed did not derive from its position outside of theological disputes, but rather from its centrality in the expression of Orthodoxy by a whole range of groups. Considering the political and ecclesiastical turmoil of the first half of the 6th century and the central role that Illyricum played in these disputes, it is difficult to imagine the presence of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed in our Isthmian inscription as anything less than a statement of imperial authority laden with this intentional historical subtext. While there is no evidence for a body of Monophysite Christians on the Isthmus, the presence of a text that was equally significant to Monophysites and Chalcedonians reflects Justinian’s efforts to promote a unified imperial faith that transcended doctrinal or regional varieties. Thus this text corresponded with the introduction of the Constantinopolitan liturgy in Achaea and the construction of a massive Early Christian basilica to provide evidence for a systematic effort by the emperor to promote imperial and religious unity across the empire. While there is not enough space here to explore completely the theological significance of the inscription from Corinth that called upon the Virgin to protect the emperor, Viktorinos, and all those living in the city, it is clear that the text ought to be read along similar lines. The role of the Theotokos as a protector of the emperor and a city is regarded as a quintessentially 6th-century phenomenon derived from the East.81 The Corinth text is an early example of the kind of Marian devotion that would become only more prominent in the practices of later Byzantine emperors like Justin II.82 Despite Justinian’s particular devotion to the Virgin, Mary as Theotokos appears only rarely in monumental epigraphy of this period.83 The appearance of Mary as the Theotokos in this text derived from her role as the protector of the city of Constantinople (and presumably the emperor) and from Justinian’s particular devotion to the Theotokos as the defender of the capital and the empire. Procopius reports in Book 1 that the two churches of Mary outside of the walls at Constantinople protected the city.84 Book 6 lists numerous churches to the Theotokos built by Justinian in the newly reconquered, western parts of the empire.85 A church to the Virgin at Cadiz in Spain served to place the entire empire under her protection: οὗ δὴ καὶ νεὼν ἀξιοθέατον τῇ Θεοτόκῳ ἀνέθηκεν, ἀναψάμενος μὲν

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ἐπ’ αὐτῆς τὰ τῆς πολιτείας προοίμια, παντὶ δὲ ἀνθρώπων τῷ γένει ταύτῃ ἄμαχον τὸ φρούριον τοῦτο ποιούμενος (“There too he consecrated to the

Mother of God a noteworthy church, thus dedicating to her the threshold of the empire, and making this fortress impregnable for the whole race of mankind”).86 The role of the Theotokos as protector may also have liturgical ties through the Akathistos hymn, which depicted Mary in this role.87 This text also appears to be of Constantinopolitan origin.88 Within this reading, the refortification of the Isthmus and the city of Corinth once again points toward increased imperial presence on the Isthmus. Reading the Corinth text alongside the inscription from the Isthmus may have also encouraged a more sophisticated interpretation of both texts, particularly among individuals involved in the theological disputes of the day. The texts taken together evoke the important works of the 5th-century theologian and bishop Cyril of Alexandria, who by the 6th century had emerged as an important benchmark for Orthodoxy among both Anti-Chalcedonians and Chalcedonians alike. Cyril rose to prominence as the opponent of Nestorius at the Council of Ephesus in 431, and his writing framed the Christological debates of later centuries through his efforts to define the nature of Christ. In fact, in Cyrilian theology it was Christ’s status as true God that secured Mary’s status as Theotokos, the bearer of God.89 Thus, the invocations in the texts from Isthmia and Corinth represent a neat pair, asserting both the divine nature of Christ and, consequently, the status of Mary as Theotokos. Further encouraging this interpretation is that Cyril’s emphasis on the link between the indisputable divinity of Christ and the Virgin as the Theotokos played a central part in Justinian’s theological writings, many of which date to within a few years of these inscriptions.90 Justinian, and a larger group of scholars sometimes referred to Neo-Chalcedonians, worked explicitly to promote a form of Chalcedonian theology compatible with Cyril’s writing. By demonstrating the fundamental agreement between Cyril and the Council of Chalcedon they sought to defuse tensions that had, by the mid-6th century, splintered the churches of the empire.91 By Justinian’s death in 565, the interplay between the Creed and Mary’s special status was sufficiently well-known to emerge with particular prominence in Corripus’s In laudem Iustini Augusti minoris, which dates to less than two decades after these two inscriptions. Cameron has suggested that the poem encapsulated many of the reforms taking place in the later years of Justinian’s reign.92 In the poem, the Theotokos appears at the beginning of Book 1 acting as the mediator between heaven and humanity when she informs the heir to the throne of Justinian’s death.93 Near the end of the poem, Corripus offers a theological ekphrasis of Justinian’s church of Ayia Sophia that employs the Creed as its basic heuristic. Cameron suggested that the choice of Creed as a lens to understand the architecture of the church was to evoke Justin II’s use of the Creed to demonstrate his own Orthodoxy.94 The parallel between the two inscriptions from the Corinthia and the poem of Corripus suggests that these texts drew upon a strong current in imperial ideology. Moreover, the rarity of invocations to the Virgin and to the Creed during the 6th century mark these two texts as particularly distinct expressions of imperial policy.

86. Procop. Aed. 6.7.16. Trans. H. B. Dewing, Cambridge, Mass., 1940. Cf. Fowden 1995, p. 562. 87. Baynes 1949. 88. Limberis 1994, pp. 92–94. 89. Mansi 1.5.15–16. 90. Gray 1979, pp. 154–164. See Justinian, On the Person of Christ: The Christology of Emperor Justinian, trans. K. P. Wesche, pp. 119–120 and throughout. 91. Gray 1979, pp. 105–172. 92. Cameron 1978. 93. Corripus Iust. 1.1–65. 94. Corripus Iust. 4.288–365; Cameron 1976b, p. 208.

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tH e insCriP t ions in tH e arCHaeoLo GiCaL Context oF tH e CorintH ian istHMus The inscriptions associated with the Justinianic refortification of the Isthmus provide valuable insights into the larger transformation of the Late Roman landscape during the 6th century. The inscriptions’ integration of imperial authority, military policy, and Christian liturgy tie together some of the most notable archaeological features in the region. The final section of this chapter will serve as a conclusion by returning our new interpretation of the Isthmia inscription to its place amidst the considerable body of archaeological evidence for the 5th and 6th centuries assembled by the archaeological fieldwork of the last half century. Renewed activity along the Hexamilion wall and the Fortress at Isthmia would have undoubtedly had a major impact on the Isthmian landscape.95 The magnitude of the initial construction demanded resources from the entire prefecture of Illyricum.96 By the 6th century, Procopius tells us that the Hexamilion was in disrepair.97 There is reason, however, for caution regarding such claims: not only is Procopius unreliable regarding the condition of fortifications that Justinian restored,98 but the archaeological evidence from the Fortress itself suggests only limited repairs.99 Nevertheless, considering the total size of the Hexamilion, even modest repairs and modifications along its entire course would have represented a significant investment in both manpower and money.100 According to Procopius, part of this project included the installation of a garrison at the Isthmian fort, which would have ensured that the site of Isthmia represented an important concentration of activity,101 and probably habitation, in the eastern Corinthia, alongside the port of Kenchreai and the crossroads settlement of Kromna, even if the garrison was only stationed at the site for a rather short period of time.102 According to Procopius, the garrisons established by Justinian replaced the farmer-soldiers of previous periods who had settled in the area in conjunction with the 5th-century fortifications.103 Thus, the new garrison would have presumably added population to the region.104 To feed these additional men stationed both at Isthmia and elsewhere throughout Greece, Procopius seems to suggest that the emperor established granaries, and since it is likely that the Fortress was fed from the local territory, the demands of a larger population may have contributed to a more intensive exploitation of the region.105 95. See Dunn 2004 for an overview of the role of garrisons and fortification in transforming the later Roman landscape. 96. Isthmia V, pp. 143–144; Fowden 1995, pp. 551–553; Avramea 1997, pp. 63–64. 97. Procop. Aed. 4.2.27–28. 98. See Croke and Crow 1983, pp. 144–147, for a survey of Procopian inventions and exaggerations elsewhere in the East.

99. Isthmia V, pp. 80–83, 101–102. 100. Kardulias 1995. 101. Procop. Aed. 4.2.28. 102. See Pettegrew 2006, pp. 248– 327, for a general treatment of settlement on the Isthmus; Rife (Isthmia IX, pp. 123–124) sees no clear signs of military settlement in the mortuary record and proposes that any garrison at the Isthmian fortress may have been short lived. 103. Procop. Aed. 4.2.25; Anec.

26.31 refers to the garrisons at Thermopylae that replaced farmers who had formerly maintained and defended the fortifications there. 104. Kardulias (2005, pp. 95–99) uses anthropological methods to derive an estimate of 1,200–2,000 men; Gregory (Isthmia V, p. 79), using more traditional historical and archaeological sources, estimates 2,000 men maximum. 105. Procop. Aed. 4.2.14; Haldon 1990, p. 11.

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The rather abrupt increase in population on the Isthmus represented just one aspect of the changes taking place in the Isthmian corridor during the Justinianic period. The imperial garrisons and construction at Isthmia would have added to the impact of other construction across the Isthmus, such as the massive Lechaion basilica mentioned earlier, as well as a whole series of 6th-century churches in and around Corinth. These good-sized basilicas surrounded the city of Corinth: one at a place called Skoutela on the plain between the city and Lechaion, another church right outside the city walls, perhaps dedicated to the martyr Kodratos, and a church with Proconnesian marble architectural sculpture amidst the tombs of ancient Kraneion.106 Closer to Isthmia, a church of 6th-century date stood at the Roman port of Kenchreai as well.107 Sanders has suggested that the building boom of the 6th century reflects the late Christianization of the Corinthia. This is possible, but churches represent just one aspect of the Corinthian building boom of the busy 6th century. The city of Corinth, in particular, experienced a general boom in building during the mid-6th century. Among the most visible of the constructions in the city during the 6th century may have been the Late Roman fortification wall, which Procopius and, now, Slane and Sanders have attributed to Justinian.108 Recent work within the city itself, however, has identified several other monumental buildings of seemingly Justinianic date.109 The entirety of the Isthmus seems to have been awash in imperial initiatives presumably funded, at least in part, through imperial directives. If we associate even a few of these buildings with the work of Justinian, then both the religious and secular aspects of the 6th-century construction boom come into focus as part of Justinian’s efforts to promote imperial authority. This study took as its point of departure the short, and rather overlooked, Justinianic inscription from Isthmia. A careful reading of this text in both the historical and archaeological context of over a half century of study on the Isthmus has offered a substantial outline of the close ties between imperial authority, ecclesiastical unity, military security, and even economic change on the Justinianic Isthmus. The imperial presence in the landscape showed signs of the kind of “totalizing discourse” that connected the everyday life, movements, and economy of the Isthmus with the ritual life of the capital.110 The Christian liturgy, which had become particularly visible in the Corinthian landscape through the large-scale construction of churches during the 6th century, represented a unifying ritual that served to reinforce a common identity among the empire’s Christians.111 The establishment of a common set of beliefs as manifest in the liturgy was a crucial element to imperial policy at the margins of the empire. Greece, and the Isthmus in particular, with its divided loyalties between the western ecclesiastical center of Rome and the eastern political center of Constantinople, fit awkwardly into Justinian’s strategy for a unified imperial rule and provoked imperial policies that sought to unify political and religious authority. The continued military and political involvement in Italy and elsewhere in the West made securing the loyalty of the Isthmian crossroads an imperative.

106. Reallexikon zur byzantinischen Kunst IV, 1990, cols. 746–814, s.v. Korinth (D. I. Pallas); Sanders 2005, pp. 437–441. 107. See Rothaus 2000, pp. 77–78, for a summary of the evidence. 108. Procop. Aed. 4.2.24; Slane and Sanders 2005, pp. 292–293. By the 6th century nearly all urban fortification projects were imperial initiatives funded with a combination of local and imperial resources: Pringle 1981, pp. 89–91. 109. Sanders 1999, pp. 473–475; Slane and Sanders 2005, pp. 289–294. 110. Cameron 1991, pp. 220–221. 111. Nelson 1976, pp. 100–105.

c hap ter 1 7

C i r c u l ar L am p s i n t h e L at e an t i q u e P e l op on n e s e by Birgitta Lindros Wohl

Although I disagree in this study with Oscar Broneer, who was my model and sometime mentor, I think he would have been pleased with the end result, since it uses the lamps he studied so successfully in order to place the Corinthia into a sharper historical focus. More specifically, this study attempts to correct a previous mistake in lamp identification and provide a new suggestion about their likely provenience. In his 1930 publication of the lamps from Corinth, Broneer presented a small group of circular Late Roman lamps as his type XXXII and argued for a Sicilian origin.1 At the time very few type XXXII lamps were known in Greece or elsewhere, and the basis for his assumption were four such lamps found in a Syracusan hypogeum and published by Orsi in 1897 and 1909.2 Since that time, however, many more (most often fragmentary) examples have been discovered, and a different picture has emerged, identifying the Peloponnese in general, and the Corinthia in particular, as the most likely center of production.

DesC ri P t i on 1. Corinth IV.2, pp. 120–121, 290– 291, nos. 1501–1510, pl. XXIII. 2. Orsi 1897, p. 491, pl. III:11; 1909, pp. 362–363, fig. 21. 3. Cyprus: Vessberg 1956, p. 127, fig. 39:25 (type 20); Oziol 1977, pp. 279–286, nos. 842–879, pls. 46–48; also Lightfoot 2005. Egypt: Hayes 1980, pp. 131–132, nos. 530–534. For Syracuse, see n. 2, above. 4. See Hayes 1972, esp. pp. 311– 313. In spite of the large number of different patterns known, especially for rims (cf. below), the number of actual punches found is astonishingly low. For a brief introduction to production procedures, see Bailey 1988, pp. 183–184, pl. 146. See also Bussière 2008 for 16 punches not previously published.

The lamps of type XXXII are roughly round and flat with an elaborately decorated surface, consisting of discus and rim, and a small conical handle opposite the round wick hole; both handle and nozzle are contained within the circular outline of the lamp. Examples of a related version of circular lamp have been found on Cyprus, Egypt, and indeed in Syracuse.3 These, however, are mainly characterized by incised decor, and though the Cypriot and Syracusan examples are similar in patterns, the Cypriot mostly lack a handle. The provenience of this latter group seems anchored in the Levant, although they are possibly contemporary with the stamped type. I focus here on the specific variant of type XXXII seen in Figure 17.1. The decor is raised, fine-lined, and produced by movable punches, in the manner of the more well-known African Christian lamps of Hayes type II.4 This variant makes up the majority of Broneer’s type XXXII, and presents several particularly intriguing questions. The relationship of the circular stamped lamps to circular lamps with simpler, incised, nonstamped decor is left aside for now. Here I primarily want to examine the iconography and possible provenience of these stamped lamps with raised decor, as they present a discrete

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Figure 17.1. type xxxii lamp Corinth L-1969-143. Scale 2:3. Photo courtesy Corinth Excavations

entity distinguished from the Levantine incised variant. The dating provided by published examples of the stamped variant is broadly consistent. Most contexts center on the 6th century a.d.,5 though more precise chronological refinements will most likely be forthcoming as study progresses.

tH e “ siCiLian ” LaBeL Although only four such lamps with stamped, raised decor were found in Syracuse, the “Sicilian” label has stuck with the type, and has been repeated through the 1990s and beyond. Many scholars, however, have raised doubts. Pavolini explicitly denied a Sicilian origin in his 1979 review of Broneer’s Isthmia III, in which additional examples of type XXXII lamps were catalogued.6 And it must be remembered that Orsi himself (the excavator who published them) repeatedly called the four Syracusan examples (Broneer’s basis for the assignation) “unique,” “without parallel,” “singolarissimo,” even “bizzare”! The four examples in Syracuse (or their prototypes)—plus one later reported from Catania7—could easily have arrived with trade from the east, along with late Asia Minor lamps, which have a strong presence in Syracuse. An eastern origin is also a strong possiblity for the majority of circular Syracusan lamps with simple incisions (the so-called Levantine type).

Ma Jo r FinDsP ots As of 2007, stamped lamps of type XXXII have been found or reported at the following locations: Sicily Syracuse, 4 (fragments) Catania, 1 (fragment) Greece Corinth, at least 48 (including 21 intact examples from the Fountain of the Lamps)8 Isthmia, 10 (fragments)9 Kenchreai, 5 (fragments)10

5. See “Dating,” below. 6. Pavolini 1979. 7. Libertini 1930, p. 292, no. 1453, pl. CXXIX. 8. Corinth IV.2, pp. 120–121, 290– 291, nos. 1501–1510, pl. XXIII; Corinth XIV, p. 164, pl. 67:1; Corinth XVII, pp. 83–84, no. 143, pl. 35; Garnett 1975, pp. 201–203, nos. 36–38, pl. 44; Slane and Sanders 2005, p. 268, no. 3-6, fig. 10. 9. Chicago Excavations: Isthmia III, p. 82, nos. 3170–3176, pl. 37; UCLA/ OSU Excavations: 3 fragments (IPL 1968-7, 1968-9, and 1971-266) to be published in my forthcoming Isthmia volume. 10. Kenchreai V, p. 86, nos. 457–461, pl. 20.

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Argos, 142 (both intact and fragments)11 Nemea, 2 (fragments)12 Olympia, at least 5 (both intact and fragments) and one mold13 Sparta, at least 1 (almost intact)14 Athens, at least 4 (mostly fragmentary)15 Aigina, 1 (fragment)16 Nea Anchialos, at least 6 (fragments)17 Summary by Region Sicily, 5 Peloponnese, at least 213 Attica, ca. 5 Thessaly, ca. 6 The number of examples from the various sites in Greece is most probably too low, and will, in all likelihood, be augmented with future study.18 Places such as Hermione, Epidauros, and the Corinthian Gulf area may reveal examples of these lamps as well.19 Nevertheless, these preliminary numbers provide a compelling picture, with such a strong prevalence of findspots in the Peloponnese that we may tentatively label this group of circular lamps the Peloponnesian type (as distinct from the Levantine type). 11. Bovon 1966, pp. 92–93, nos. 657–666, pls. 17, 18; Aupert 1980, pp. 411–415, nos. 58–80, figs. 26–32; Oikonomou 1988a, p. 494, no. 90, fig. 7; Koutoussaki 2008, pp. 397–409, nos. 734–757, pls. LXVIII–LXXI. Koutoussaki’s dissertation appeared in the late stages of this work and I gratefully acknowledge her prompt and helpful correspondence. The dissertation includes the lamps previously published by Aupert (1980), but not the ones by Bovon (1966). The total of 142 circular lamps includes several fragments of handles and bases. A few probably should not have been counted, as it is doubtful that they were made with movable punches (e.g., Koutoussaki 2008, no. 744). 12. Nemea L 138, L 145; my thanks to Stephen Miller for providing details about these lamps. Nemea L 224 (Miller 1988, p. 5, pl. 8:c) is of a variant type; see below. 13. Walter 1958, p. 72, fig. 65:d (fragment); Kyrieleis and Herrmann 2003, p. 10, fig. 8, top left (fragment) and top center (mold, also illustrated in Schauer 1991, p. 375, fig. 1); in addition, several unpublished fragments have been observed at Olympia. There are also a small number of lamps and molds of a variant type at Olympia (see n. 37, below).

14. Oikonomou 1988b, pp. 289– 290, no. 17, fig. 15 (wrongly indicated as fig. 17 in text); the description should read: “disk decorated with volute lozenges, separated from rim by a circular ridge and row of raised dots (or pearl ring); rim decorated with meander strips and volute lozenges, all elements placed irregularly and tightly.” Oikonomou does not consider a Spartan workshop likely (p. 292). I owe the Spartan reference to Lita Tzortzopoulou-Gregory. 15. Agora VII, pp. 100, 193, 201, nos. 340, 341, 2832, G, pls. 10, 44, 47 (the last two glazed). 16. Alt-Ägina I.2, p. 66, no. 63, pl. 18. 17. Lazarides 1964, p. 8, pl. 3:b (fragment); 1965, pp. 15–16, pls. 9:b (3 fragments), 10:b (1 fragment); Athens, Byzantine Museum 293 (fragment; see Agora VII, p. 193, no. 2832). Orlandos 1965, p. 16, pl. 13, bottom row, center (unclear image), is most likely an example of the Levantine type. 18. During the long hiatus between the presentation of this paper and its publication, several additional examples of circular lamps, though mostly with incised decor, have been published; see, e.g., Petrides 2007, p. 49, fig. 5. 19. Schauer (1991, p. 376, n. 10) mentions circular lamps in the museum

of Eleusis and at Patras, but it is unclear whether they are of the stamped variety, or have a simpler, incised decor (i.e., the Levantine type). The relationship of the lamps from Nea Anchialos to Demetrias in Thessaly also is of interest. The two sites are close, and Eiwanger in Demetrias IV gives frequent references of comparison to lamps of Nea Anchialos (e.g., Demetrias IV, p. 90, nn. 244, 245): all are of Hayes type II, and not once is there a mention of the circular type. However, one might wonder whether the lamps excavated by Lazarides later than those quoted in n. 17, above, might contain examples: several instances could be among the unillustrated lamp fragments, hastily mentioned in later publications (e.g., Lazarides 1982, pp. 98–104, sections Κ, Ο, Μ). Or is it conceivable that the circular lamps—in spite of their neutral iconography—were consciously excluded from ecclesiastical contexts, such as the Damocratia basilica at Demetrias, and St. Peter’s basilica at Nea Anchialos (the domain of Lazarides’s later excavations, with very few lamps in general)? Only scrutiny of the storerooms would tell, until the type (even in fragments) becomes well enough known to be more systematically reported.

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“a FriCan ”-t y P e DeCor The lamps in question display what can tentatively be called a “North African” flavor, that is, the similarity of some (but only some) patterns to the rim patterns of lamps of Hayes type II, as well as to African pottery in general. This has been noted by several scholars, but without much attempt at an explanation.20 An African origin for our lamps can be discarded: the clay of the lamps is not the same as that of African lamps, and, at least to date, no such circular lamps have been found there. Further, the entire iconographic repertory is, as we shall see, quite different from that on lamps of African origin. Indeed, the analysis below shows that individual circular lamps of the type being considered frequently combine stamps of both the African Hayes type II lamps and stamps that seem to be found only on the Peloponnesian-type lamps.21 The following is a summary of the stamp types on these lamps arranged by findspot:

Figure 17.2. stamp types on type xxxii lamps: (a) syracuse; (b) isthmia, Isthmia iii, no. 3171; (c) argos, Bovon 1966, no. 662; (d) argos, aupert 1980, no. 68; (e) argos, aupert 1980, no. 70; (f ) athens, Agora Vii, no. G; (g) athens, Agora Vii, no. 2832; (h) nea anchialos. Scale 2:3, except

where indicated. Photos (a) Orsi 1909, fig. 21; (b) courtesy University of Chicago Excavations at Isthmia; (c) E. Serafis, courtesy École française d’Athènes; (d, e) P. Aupert, courtesy École française d’Athènes; (f, g) courtesy Agora Excavations; (h) after Lazarides 1964, pl. 3:b.

Syracuse (Fig. 17.2:a). African-type stamps: dolphins, volute lozenges, small palmettes; Peloponnesian: strips of meander, strips of guilloche (or interlocking leaves) Isthmia (Fig. 17.2:b). African-type stamps: volute lozenge, small volute heart; Peloponnesian: row of raised dots (“pearl ring”) Argos (Fig. 17.2:c). African-type stamps: dolphins, small palmettes; Peloponnesian: strips of meander, all in repeatedly radiating patterns on wide rim (as are also the dolphins) Argos (Fig. 17.2:d). African-type stamps: small rosettes; Peloponnesian: radiating strips of meander on rim, radiating raised lines on disk, with rows of circles in between Argos (Fig. 17.2:e). African-type stamps: volute lozenges alternating with volute hearts on rim and disk; Peloponnesian: a row of raised dots (“pearl ring”) separating rim and disk Athens (Fig. 17.2:f ). African-type stamps: S-spirals on disk, radiating placement of large palmettes and strips of double circles on rim; Peloponnesian: unevenly distributed circles (response to a horror vacui?) Athens (Fig. 17.2:g). African-type stamps: volute lozenges, both single on disk, double on rim alternating with dolphins; Peloponnesian: raised radiating lines on rim, separating above mentioned stamps Nea Anchialos (Fig. 17.2:h). African-type stamps: palmette, double lozenges, dolphins; Peloponnesian: raised radiating lines on rim, separating groups of above mentioned stamps22 20. E.g., Agora VII, pp. 100, 193; Kenchreai V, pp. 85, 86; Schauer 1991, pp. 374–376. 21. The relevant African lamp stamps can be found in, e.g., the repertory of Bussière 2007, pls. 133–141 (dolphin, pl. 140, types V1–V5; volute lozenge, pl. 139, types R1–R6; pal-

mette, pl. 138, types P7–P12; volute heart, pl. 137, types M1a–M6; rosette, pl. 135, types H3a–f; S-spirals, pl. 139, types Q1–Q9). 22. All the above patterns occur in multiples on the Argos lamps of Koutoussaki 2008, see esp. pp. 397– 409. In addition, the following pat-

terns—not previously recorded—are observed there: no. 737.1–2 (a variant of the voluted heart of, e.g., Isthmia III, no. 3170); nos. 740.1–5 (horseshoeshaped beaded form, close to Bussière 2007, type K12 or L12, pl. 137); no. 747.2 (not illustrated, possibly panels with semicircles?).

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o ne traDi t ion On the basis of the evidence now available, we can suggest that all lamps of the Peloponnesian type belong to a single manufacturing tradition. This is what is seen, for example, in the lamps from the Fountain of the Lamps (which betray all the typical characteristics of serialization),23 where copies were made of original circular lamps of Corinthian manufacture, not—as far as we can tell—from imports. Both the originals and copies fall primarily in the 6th century.24 That this serialized production was limited is indicated by a number of factors, for example, the Peloponnesian type of circular lamps are the smallest (and the latest) group found in the Fountain of the Lamps, a location that provides a fair representation of the Peloponnesian, provincial production of late antiquity.

res uLts oF Co M Parison An overview of the iconography shows that the makers of these circular lamps were clearly both familiar with and impressed by the punches of African lamps (Hayes type II). But the punches that are identical (or very similar) with North African ones only constitute ca. 50% of the individual decorative elements known to date. The rest, as shown above, consist of new forms of stamps (e.g., meander or key, guilloche in variations, circle/ dot variations) probably mostly done by the same appliqué method as on lamps of Hayes type II. Another deviation from North African lamp production is the base decoration found occasionally on these circular lamps. Such decoration has not always been noted in the published descriptions, but the following have been reported: 1. A sketchy bird (Corinth IV.2, no. 1507, fig. 206). 2. A raised cross, arms ending in forks or buds(?) (see Bovon 1966, no. 662, pl. 17, or Corinth L-1969-137, the cross is not mentioned in the text, but is visible in the illustration). 3. Faint Y, possibly incised (Kenchreai V, no. 460). 4. Relief branch: two examples in the Fountain of the Lamps at Corinth,25 and very common on Athenian lamps of late antiquity (and on sigillata both in the East and West, i.e., in both Late Roman C ware and African Red Slip ware). 5. Maltese cross, not well shaped (Fountain of the Lamps, Corinth).26 6. Raised arc pattern (reported on a fragment from Nea Anchialos).27 7. Zigzag line (Argos).28 23. See Garnett 1975, esp. pp. 183– 184. 24. By “original” and “copy,” preserialized lamps versus serialized ones is meant. Isthmia III, p. 82, refers to them as “the best” versus “local copies.”

25. Garnett 1975, pp. 202–203, nos. 36, 37; for drawings of the base decoration, see p. 181, fig. 1, nos. 30, 33. 26. Garnett 1975, p. 181, fig. 1, no. 31 (specific lamp not identified; see p. 203, under no. 37).

27. Athens, Byzantine Museum 293; cf. Agora VII, p. 193, no. 2832. 28. Aupert 1980, no. 61, fig. 27. Two uncertain markings are the only additions in Koutoussaki 2008, pp. 400– 409.

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Co M P os i t ion The limited output and restricted geographical extent of finds of this type are mirrored by a narrow iconographic vocabulary. A few examples have an orderly and sparse placement of decoration. On the majority, however, the placement of the punched elements is more casual, and more tightly packed. The highest degree of haphazard placement can be seen on examples from Syracuse and Athens (Fig. 17.2:a, f ). One can easily agree with Orsi’s verdict (based on the Syracusan examples): “senza ordine e sentimento, senza criterio distributivo.”29 The composition is best described as a tight, decorative jumble of elements, without much spatial consistency, or with just a rudimentary (if any) symmetry or sense of balance of the two halves. This vocabulary results in many recurring patterns and repetitions of stamp types, both among the so-called African-type punches and the newly introduced ones, a phenomenon that may be partially explained by the peripatetic nature of the ceramic stamp itself. Although it is not possible to connect a given pattern or preference to a specific place of discovery, a look at the geographic distribution of particular iconographic variations can be informative: 1. Rim: triangular heart, volute lozenge; disks vary Athens: Agora VII, no. 340 Isthmia: Isthmia III, no. 3171 (Fig. 17.2:b) Argos: Aupert 1980, no. 70 = Koutoussaki 2008, no. 741.4 (Fig. 17.2:e) 2. Wide rim: rounded large hearts with curly interior elements; disks vary Isthmia: Isthmia III, no. 3170 (small circles between) Argos: Bovon 1966, nos. 657, 658 (small rosettes between) Aigina: Alt-Ägina I.2, no. 63 3. Rim: radiating meander strips; disk: radiating ridges Kenchreai: Kenchreai V, no. 461 Corinth: L-3094 (unpublished) Argos: Aupert 1980, no. 63 = Koutoussaki 2008, no. 740.9 4. Rim: knots or pleated squares, volute lozenges, pearl ring between rim and disk; disk: cross of four meander(?) strips with S-spirals between Kenchreai: Kenchreai V, no. 457 Argos: Bovon 1966, no. 659 Argos: Aupert 1980, nos. 58, 59, 61 = Koutoussaki 2008, nos. 735.3, 735.5, 735.2 5. Rim: decorated rectangles, pearl rings around both disk and rim; disk: radiating ridges, circles between Nemea: L 145 (unpublished) Argos: Bovon 1966, nos. 665, 666 Corinth: Slane and Sanders 2005, no. 3-6

29. Orsi 1909, p. 362.

6. Rim and disk: guilloches interspersed irregularly Nemea: L 138 (unpublished) Syracuse: Orsi 1897, pl. III:11; 1909, fig. 21

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These representative examples30 show that the types of stamps on the Peloponnesian-type circular lamps are not as numerous as those on the African lamps or on the pottery they seem to imitate.31 The rim stamps on Hayes type II lamps have hundreds of variations (close to 1,000 are now known and documented), but only about 16 are documented on the lamps studied here. Of the other stamps introduced on the Peloponnesian circular lamps, approximately the same number is recorded. Thus the repetitions are very noticeable, and the limited number of elements are endlessly combined in new compositional variations. One tendency notable on the lamps is a marked predilection for interspersed circles: small, large, single, concentric, often in haphazard positions, as well as just dots, either in clusters or in strings of “pearl borders,” a common Late Antique compositional element in other contexts as well (probably because it was easy to retouch).

Co MPo si t ionaL trenDs In spite of an overall homogeneity of method and repertory, there are compositional tendencies that make it reasonable to assume different workshops with different preferences. We can distinguish groupings, possibly attributable to different shops, even if a certain preference (“style”?) cannot be pinned down with certainty to one locality. Variants circulated, either as stamps, molds, or lamps, and whether they represented different phases of development is at the moment impossible to say. A possible attempt at grouping might see the following patterns: 1. Regularly and sparsely dispersed patterns: e.g., Isthmia (Isthmia III, no. 3171) and Athens (Agora VII, no. 340) 2. Regularly distributed, more crammed patterns: e.g., Argos (Bovon 1966, nos. 661, 662) and Catania (Libertini 1930, no. 1453) 3. Crammed compositions, entities irregularly placed: e.g., Syracuse (Orsi 1909, fig. 21) and Athens (Agora VII, no. G) 4. Raised radial dividers on disk between filling ornaments: e.g., Isthmia (Isthmia III, nos. 3174, 3175), Corinth (Corinth XVII, no. 143), and Argos (Aupert 1980, nos. 63, 68) 5. Raised radial dividers on rim between filling ornaments: e.g., Isthmia (Isthmia III, no. 3172), Argos (Aupert 1980, no. 71), and Athens (Agora VII, no. 2832)

CLay anD worK sH oPs The circular lamps examined here occur in widely differing fabrics: from fine, light, well-rinsed clay to heavy, medium-coarse clay of household-vessel quality. No particular compositional patterns seem tied to a specific quality of clay. Clearly we need a wider and more detailed analysis of all such lamps known from Greece—as well as the examples in Sicily—to form a more precise opinion. This would presumably be based on petrographic as well as chemical analysis of the fabrics in question. The majority of the lamps from the Corinthia are of a fine, light-colored clay (probably local), while others are made of a heavier, darker, and reddish fabric (certainly local),32

30. The list could be augmented with several other variations: e.g., identical disk decor, while the rims vary, as in the case of Libertini 1930, no. 1453 (Catania); and Aupert 1980, no. 62 (Argos). 31. My thanks to Jean Bussière for discussing and clarifying the intricacies/ categorizations of the African stamp applications. While his 2007 volume (Bussière 2007) contains a limited repertory of stamps, his 2015 volume (Bussière and Rivel 2015) is devoted to a comprehensive presentation of such stamps. 32. E.g., Corinth IV.2, nos. 1502– 1505; Isthmia III, nos. 3170, 3171, 3174 of the finer, lighter color clay, while the heavier, darker ware was used for, e.g., Corinth IV.2, nos. 1507–1509. John Hayes (in an early correspondence I gratefully acknowledge) saw no serious problem assigning a Greek, even Corinthian, origin to various fine clays of circular lamps, observed at Isthmia. In fact all examples from Isthmia, from both the Chicago and the UCLA/OSU Excavations, are of this fine clay, potentially the same as used for Broneer type XXVII lamps.

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and are often smaller, thus possibly a later generation.33 With regard to Argos and the Argolid, there is good reason to believe that the majority of the many Late Antique lamps there were locally produced, though of varying fabrics, as suggested earlier by both Bovon and Aupert.34 Koutoussaki makes further distinctions, including a potential import stage of circular lamps and certain influence from Corinth, before a large-scale local copy manufacture.35 None of this prevents a previously formed impression: that the lamps were developed in the Peloponnese, probably in the Corinthia (of various clays), but spread and proliferated elsewhere. Of the few examples of circular lamps with stamped pattern in Athens, two are reported glazed, as are also six circular lamps of related but not stamped pattern.36 This might give us reason to assume a separate production in Athens (or some other place selling to Athens?), since glaze is otherwise rarely reported on circular lamps: only one in Corinth and one at Isthmia. Olympia presents a somewhat different situation, deviating from Corinth or Argos in a number of ways. While we can with confidence assume a local production of circular lamps in those locations, Olympia is the only place to have yielded a mold of type XXXII so far. In addition—as far as the excavated material indicates—the production has relatively few examples of the Peloponnesian type under discussion here. The dominant variant at Olympia is a simple, often geometricized, linear decor of reduced precision, referred to above as the Levant type. The relationship between the two types, the stamped and the incised, is uncertain, as both variants exist in a fine, light clay, as well as in a heavier reddish brown.37 Possibly the second is a later development. Perhaps the stamps for the first type were too laborious to reproduce once they became worn out.38 The attempt to establish exact numbers of circular lamps with “African”-type decor at Olympia is, however, made difficult by the lack of clear numerical distinctions between the two types found there in the published discussion. As the lamps of the second type (nonstamped decor) are relatively rare in the Corinthia and the Argolid, any import from Elis to the Corinthia seems highly unlikely. 33. The rate of shrinkage in size with each surmoulage for a new lamp negative is calculated to about onetenth of the diameter; see Kübler 1952, pp. 108–109. 34. Aupert (1980, p. 454) points to several different, probable claybeds at Argos at this late date, but does not provide information about the clay of individual lamps; it can be assumed that some are preserialized. Bovon (1966, pp. 92–93) does not discuss the fabric of circular lamps as distinct from other locally made lamps of the same period. Koutoussaki (2008, p. 398) sees three categories of clay for these lamps: the finer ones imported (either source left open, or Corinth suggested), the majority of local clay. 35. Koutoussaki 2008, pp. 393, 398; she is wisely cautious concerning out-

side imports. A close connection between the Corinthia and the Argolid must be taken for granted, in this late period as earlier, though the precise workings of this need further exploration. 36. Glazed and stamped: Agora VII, nos. 2832, G. Glazed and nonstamped: Agora VII, nos. 2829, 2830, 2833–2835, 2837. 37. My own observations on proportions and clay at Olympia are amply confirmed by Christa Schauer, both in correspondence some time ago (thankfully acknowledged), and in her interesting publication of 1991, which, however, focuses more on the Olympia contextual development than on provenience and iconography. While only one mold of stamped decor has so far been reported (see n. 13, above), several

molds of the variant, Levantine type (with incised decor) have been found, some reported by Schauer (1991, p. 374, and one illustrated on p. 375, fig. 4; the same lamp is also seen in Kyrieleis and Herrmann 2003, p. 10, fig. 8, bottom left). Schauer suggests (1991, p. 378) that the molds for the first, stamped, type, where more precise and fine linework was required, might have been made of plaster, which would help explain their rarity at large. 38. A further local Olympia curiosity, not discovered so far anywhere else, are circular lamps, even a mold, combining the decorative qualities of the first and second types, i.e., both stamps and linear incisions (e.g., K 4249, stamped decor plus an incised Christogram on the shoulder, Schauer 1991, p. 377).

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Dat i nG The majority of the lamps cited here have been dated to the 6th century, even the latter half of the century, and beyond. Very occasionally a 5thcentury date is given.39 It is, however, not always clear if the published dates are derived from firsthand analysis of the lamps and their contexts or simply based on earlier publications. Schauer initally proposed that the production of circular lamps began when the African lamps (i.e., Hayes type II) had passed their prime, that is, in the 6th century, in general; however, later excavations have extended the production of circular lamps into the 7th century and date the Olympia workshop merely to the 6th century.40 The supposed Slavic invasions of the period after a.d. 585 have been quoted as a terminus ante quem for the beginning of production. For instance, the rich findings of late lamps from the Argos Bath, often referred to here, are closely connected by Aupert to this phenomenon.41 Slane and Sanders, however, and most other scholars, now place the Argos assemblage well after a.d. 585.42 Indeed, on the basis of the Corinthian evidence, they date the Argos material to the early/mid-7th century. This would bring the use of these circular lamps well into the 7th century.

F unCt ions There is no particular reason to assume a special or remarkable use or function for these lamps, in spite of their relative rarity. They are found in a variety of locations in late antiquity: in agoras (Athens, Argos), baths (Argos), and possibly housing units (Olympia). Even the occasional use in ritual circumstances, as at the Fountain of the Lamps at Corinth, provides no proof of a specialized function, as all the common lamp types of each period in question were offered there.43 Even the two fragments from the West Cemetery at Isthmia are inconclusive,44 since the area had not been used as a burial ground for many centuries. Similarly, the four fragments from the Palaimonion area and the single fragment from the Theater at Isthmia45 cannot be used to imbue them with a ritual essence. Here they should most likely be regarded as late stray examples, probably not in their original context. Every indication points to these lamps as a modest item—though of unusual shape—utilized in a variety of everyday functions, but for a relatively limited time. Broneer saw nothing especially Christian in their iconography,46 though certainly the dolphin and the bird could carry such connotations.47 However, as such items are far outnumbered by elements of neutral decorative quality, it is doubtful that much religious identity was attached to the lamp as a whole. 39. See, e.g., Agora VII, nos. 340, 341, reported as “imports” of fine clay; also Bovon 1966, nos. 662, 665, dated to the “5th–6th century” for no obvious reason. Orsi (1909, p. 363) is way too early: “mid-4th to early 5th century.” 40. Schauer 1991, pp. 374, 377. For

the later excavations, see Schauer 2010, pp. 30, 34; I thank Marc Hammond for pointing out this reference. 41. Aupert 1980, esp. pp. 395, 454. 42. Slane and Sanders 2005, p. 294, n. 108. 43. Garnett 1975.

44. IPL 1968-7, 1968-9; see n. 9, above. 45. Isthmia III, p. 82, nos. 3171, 3172, 3173, 3176, 3175, respectively. 46. Corinth IV.2, pp. 120–121. 47. Koutoussaki (2008, p. 398) disagrees with Broneer on this point.

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P os s i BLe oriG in s A precise provenience for the lamps is impossible to pinpoint at the moment, although they were certainly not from Africa, and not likely from Sicily either. But it is a possibility that some iconographic impulses came from, for example, Eastern Sigillata (usually reserved for earlier Roman wares) and Late Roman slipped and stamped wares imported to Athens and Corinth, while a few non-African stamps found on the lamps can be found on Phocaean Red Slip/Late Roman C ware. We can only guess that some potter/lamp-maker, impressed by this language, developed the idea to apply it to circular, flat lamps, otherwise unknown in Greece. Did he perhaps come from the eastern Mediterranean? If the creation of the type lies outside of Greece, such indications have not survived, or been found as yet. Thus the repeated references to “import” as the source for Broneer type XXXII are best left aside for now, since the type—according to present indications—was developed in the Peloponnese, most likely in the Corinthia, and proliferated in the Argolid (with variants in Olympia and possibly in Athens). It seems then that only a few “original” (African) stamp types were available to the inventors (or selected for some reason?), and thus several new ones were added of a distinct Greek (or Asia Minor) flavor: meander, guilloche, etc.48 To the Greek manipulation of the foreign types belongs also the very casual, irregular composition on many of these lamps, quite in contrast to the use of such elements on African lamps. This phenomenon is, of course, paralleled elsewhere in late antiquity, as the memory of earlier regularity and order weakened. What we see is a microcosmic example of the frequent principle of experimentation in a transitional age that is beginning to cut loose from its prior stylistic moorings.

Con C Lu s i on

48. See e.g., Hayes 1972, nos. 21, 22, 26, 27, figs. 73 (though not exactly the same shape guilloches as here), 74 (though not a running key as here). 49. See Koutoussaki 2008, e.g., pp. 400, 402–406, nos. 735.2–4, 738.6– 8, 740.15–23, 744.1–4, 746.1–7. 50. The role of Corinth as the commercial hub and magnet for travel and trade in late antiquity is developed in Avramea’s (1997) admirable exposé of the Peloponnese during this period; see esp. pp. 130–140.

The dominance of Greece, particularly the Peloponnese, in the number of stamped, circular lamps is striking: 97.8% of those discovered to date have been found in Greece (only 2.2% elsewhere, all in Sicily). This certainly makes a Greek origin, and a slight export to Sicily the likely scenario. Indeed, if we assume that some of the lamps were produced, or at least used in the 7th century, then their distribution in southern Greece and Sicily is paralleled by that of coins and other objects in the same period. In addition, the presence of at least one mold of the stamped type at Olympia shows that some were produced there. Indeed, 93% of the circular lamps have been found in the Peloponnese. Of these, 30% have been discovered in the Corinthia, suggesting that many are likely to have been made there, while 67% come from the Argolid due to the large number of serialized copies recovered and most likely produced there. Both regions have yielded multiple, identical lamp variations, and Argos in addition several mold mates.49 If many of the circular lamps were in the end not produced in the Corinthia, at least the clay used seems to suggest that they were developed, used in, and probably distributed from there.50 Production certainly took place at more than one site.

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references ———. 1981. “The City of Corinth and Its Domestic Religion,” Hesperia 50, pp. 408–421. ———. 1987. “Laus Julia Corinthiensis et Diana Nemorensis?” in Φίλια έπη εις Γεώργιον Ε. Μυλωνάν, Athens, pp. 384–389. ———. 1989. “A Re-Evaluation of Temple E and the West End of the Forum of Corinth,” in Walker and Cameron 1989, pp. 156–162. ———. 1993. “Roman Corinth as a Commercial Center,” in Gregory 1993a, pp. 31–46. Williams, C. K., II, and J. E. Fisher. 1971. “Corinth, 1970: Forum Area,” Hesperia 40, pp. 1–51. ———. 1972. “Corinth, 1971: Forum Area,” Hesperia 51, pp. 143–184. ———. 1973. “Corinth, 1972: Forum Area,” Hesperia 51, pp. 1–44. Williams, C. K., II, and P. Russell. 1981. “Corinth Excavations of 1980,” Hesperia 50, pp. 1–44. Williams, C. K., II, and O. H. Zervos. 1989. “Corinth, 1988: East of the Theater,” Hesperia 58, pp. 1–50. Williams, D. 1983. “Aegina, AphaiaTempel V: The Pottery from Chios,” AA 1983, pp. 155–186. Williams, H. 1996. “Excavations at Stymphalos, 1995,” EchCl 40, pp. 75–98. Williams, H., G. Schaus, S.-M. Cronkite Price, B. Gourley, and H. Lutomsky. 1997. “Excavations at Ancient Stymphalos, 1996,” EchCl 41, pp. 23–73. Williams, H., G. Schaus, B. Gourley, S.-M. Cronkite Price, K. D. Sherwood, and Y. Lolos. 2002. “Excavations at Ancient Stymphalos, 1999– 2002,” Mouseion 46, pp. 135–187. Winter, N. A. 1993. Greek Architectural Terracottas: From the Prehistoric to the End of the Archaic Period, Oxford. Wiseman, J. 1963. “A Trans-Isthmian Fortification Wall,” Hesperia 32, pp. 248–275. ———. 1967a. “Excavations at Corinth, the Gymnasium Area, 1965,” Hesperia 36, pp. 13–41. ———. 1967b. “Excavations at Corinth, the Gymnasium Area, 1966,” Hesperia 36, pp. 402–428. ———. 1969. “Excavations in Corinth, the Gymnasium Area, 1967–1968,” Hesperia 38, pp. 64–106.

references ———. 1972. “The Gymnasium Area at Corinth, 1969–1970,” Hesperia 41, pp. 1–42. ———. 1978. The Land of the Ancient Corinthians (SIMA 50), Göteborg. ———. 1979. “Corinth and Rome I: 228 b.c.–267 a.d.,” in ANRW II.7.1, pp. 438–548. Wohl, B. 1981. “A Deposit of Lamps from the Roman Baths at Isthmia,” Hesperia 50, pp. 112–140. ———. 2005. “Darkness and Light: Lamps from a Tunnel at Isthmia, Greece,” in Lychnological Acts 1. Actes du 1er Congrès international d’études sur le luminaire antique (Nyon–Genève, 29.IX–4.X.2003), ed. L. Chrzanovski, Montagnac, pp. 211–216. Woloch, M. 1973. Roman Citizenship and the Athenian Elite, A.D. 96–161, Amsterdam. Woodward, A. M. 1932. Rev. of Corinth VIII.1, in JHS 52, pp. 143–144. Wörrle, M. 1988. Stadt und Fest im kaiserzeitlichen Kleinasien: Studien zu einer agonistischen Stiftung aus Oinoanda (Vestigia 39), Munich. Wrede, W. 1933. Attische Mauern, Athens.

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379 Young, R. S. 1951. “An Industrial District of Ancient Athens,” Hesperia 20, pp. 135–288. Zanker, P. 1989. Die Trunkene Alte: Das Lachen der Verhöhnten, Frankfurt. ———. 1995. The Mask of Socrates: The Image of the Intellectual in Antiquity (Sather Classical Lectures 59), trans. A. Shapiro, Berkeley. Zerner, C. 1986. “Middle Helladic and Late Helladic Pottery from Lerna,” Hydra 2, pp. 58–74. ———. 1988. “Middle Helladic and Late Helladic Pottery from Lerna, Part II: Shapes,” Hydra 4, pp. 1–52. ———. 1993. “New Perspectives on Trade in the Middle and Early Late Helladic Periods on the Mainland,” in Wace and Blegen: Pottery as Evidence for Trade in the Aegean Bronze Age, 1939–1989. Proceedings of the International Conference Held at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, Athens, December 2–3, 1989, ed. C. Zerner, P. Zerner, and J. Winder, Amsterdam, pp. 39–56. Zimmer, G. 1989. Locus datus decreto decurionum: Zur Statuenaufstellung zweier Forumsanlagen im römischen Afrika (AbhMünch 102), Munich.

inDex

acclamations, 332–333, 335 Actian Games (Nikopolis), 221106, 222 Aeschines, 151 Agathe Tyche, 212 26 agonothetes, 16110, 167, 170, 205, 213, 21336, 214, 216, 219, 21992, 220, 210100, 221, 227, 234, 237–238, 238218, 239, 245 agriculture: farmsteads, 289–290, 298, 303, 309; honey, 290, 306; olive oil production, 10, 73, 76, 79, 81, 304, 306, 308 Akra Sophia (Corinthia), 304 Akrotirio Trelli (Corinthia), 25, 27, 256 Alaric, 161, 284 Alexander the Great, 149. See also under mosaic Aigina, 32, 35–37, 98, 105, 107–108, 117, 343, 347; andesite from, 31; Chian kantharoi on, 93; Kolonna, 35–38; Late Helladic, 35, 37; Middle Helladic, 35 Aigina Bellerophon Painter, 129 ambo, 333–334 Ambrakia, 98, 106–108 Amphiaraion, Sacred Spring, 260–261 Amphiaraos, 178119, 180, 181134, 181136, 260 Antipater, 138, 154 Antoninus Pius, 164, 175, 177, 186 Aphrodisias, 162, 171, 242 architects, 40, 49, 53, 57, 95, 326, 331 architecture: Byzantine, 312; columns, 40, 418, 42, 54, 56–57, 74, 260, 304, 318, 320; cranes/hoists, 47–49; Doric order, 7, 41, 260, 261, 263; epistyle, 4732, 320; “geison” blocks, 54–55, 320; headers and stretchers, 314, 320–321; joint (“fissure”), 34; joint (in laying blocks or tiles),

45, 48, 52, 53, 62, 321, 325; Late Helladic/Mycenaean, 19–20, 27–30; measurement, 41, 4213, 56–57; molding, cyma recta, 320; molding, hawksbeak, 137; pilasters, 39–42, 44, 54, 56, 268; postholes, 14, 15, 18, 20, 42, 49, 5664; roof tiles, 10, 39–40, 4835, 50–54, 5042, 56, 58, 59–63, 84, 298, 303; rope channels, 4522, 46, 4728, 48; scaffolding, 323–324; stylobate, 41–42, 4421, 56; template, 50, 59–60, 6079, 62; triglyph, 31826, 319; U-shaped channels, 47. See also architects; baths; fortifications; Kalamianos; masonry; masons; tools; villas Argive Heraion, 11, 115 Argos, Argolid, 29, 31–32, 36–37, 98–99, 105, 107–108, 113–114; lamps, 343–344, 34422, 346–348, 34830, 349–351, 34934 Arkadia, 76, 113, 152; cult of Pan, 17, 177 Artemis, 315, 10425, 116, 19614, 231173, 267 Asia Minor, 163, 164, 167, 222, 236, 252, 264, 342, 351 Athens, 215, 231, 243–244; Agora, 75, 8511, 8618; coinage, 99, 105, 107, 343–344, 346–351; Kerameikos, 13710, 226; Theater of Dionysos, 171. See also under lamps athletes, 315, 83, 10532, 1343, 157, 169, 172, 176, 190, 198, 21126, 221–222, 221106, 222108, 225134, 231, 242–246, 252, 25515, 263–265, 271–272, 274. See also Isthmian Games; Nemean Games; Olympic Games; wreath Attica, 36–37, 170, 211, 232, 260, 332; Isthmus as border, 13

382 Ayios Athanasios (Thessaloniki), tombs, 139 Ayios Dimitrios ridge (Corinthia), 66, 306, 308 Ayios Sostis (Tegea), 11321 Babbii, 222–224, 245 Bacchiads, 156 Bactria, 154, 15590, 156 Baiae, 165 Bath (England), coins in “sacred spring,” 103 baths: Argos, 350; hall-type, 268–269; Isthmia, 3–4, 7, 8, 11, 173, 247–251, 268; Rachi, 76, 77, 80; Rome, 326; sanctuary, 247–269 Baubo, 116 Belevi, 174 Benevento, Arch of Trajan, 173 Blastos, mantis, statue of, 159, 168, 179–183 Boiotia, 99, 105 Bucephalus, 151, 153, 15381, 156 Bulla Regia, 165, 183 Byzantine period, 3, 6, 7, 12, 251, 267, 26739, 268, 312, 326, 330 Caesarea (Corinth, Isthmia), 194, 196–197, 205, 212–213, 21230, 219, 225, 229, 231, 233–245 Cassander, 139, 150 Catania, 342, 348 cenotaphs, 1344, 138, 15065, 156 Chaironeia, 140, 14959, 153 Chalcedonians, 337–338 Christianity. See Byzantine period; churches; Corinth: bishop of; Creed, Nicene-Constantinopolitan; Lechaion: basilica; Theotokos churches, 6, 290, 306, 326, 332, 340 Cicero, 215, 21776, 218, 21877, 82, 83 coinage: counterfeit, 1001, 104–105; dating of, 98, 106–107; diobol, 102, 10636; in foundation deposits, 10425, 10531; hoards, 102–103, 282, 284; Isthmia temple deposit, 971, 98, 9911, 102–108, 10425, 10635; PegasosTrident, 106, 231; stater, 1001, 10426, 106–107 Commodus, 165, 174, 212, 231175 Corinth: bishop of, 336; history and archaeology, 2, 151–156; lamps, 341–342, 3428, 346–351, 34832, 34934, 35, 35046; magistrates, Roman, 216–221; oligarchy, 149, 151–152; personal names, Roman, 216–228; Roman colony, 193–196, 289, 295–

index 296; rural settlement, 292, 296, 297, 309, 310; territory of, 327, 328, 330, 338, 340; texts and inscriptions, 330, 331, 332, 337, 338. See also Babbii; Caesarea; Dinippus, Ti. Claudius; Hellotia; Philip II; Sebastea buildings and monuments: Asklepieion, 88, 19614; Babbius Monument, 222– 223; Bath, Severan, on Lechaion Road, 177; Fountain of the Lamps, 342, 346, 350; Gymnasium, 194–200, 231; Hellenistic racecourse, 193–194; houses, 75, 76; Kokkinovrysi shrine, 11426; North Cemetery, 92, 149; Potters’ Quarter, 116, 11648, 118; Sacred Spring, 96; Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore, 23, 87, 90, 95, 113–114, 116; Southeast Building, 223; Stele Shrine, 109, 116; Temple of Apollo, 39; Temple F, 177; Tile Works, 88, 89, 93; wells, 92, 96 Cornelii, 217 Corripus, 338 Creed, Nicene-Constantinopolitan, 330, 334, 335, 337 Crete, 36, 78 crowns. See wreaths Cyriacus of Ancona, 6, 183, 33015 Cyril of Alexandria, 338 Darius III, 155 dedications, 1343, 138. See also figurines; Isthmia: buildings and monuments; weapons Deinarchos of Corinth, 133, 151–154, 156 Delos, 78, 7861, 93, 214 Delphi, 181, 224, 34318; East Baths, 265; Northeast Baths, 265 Demaratos of Corinth, 133, 142, 151–156 Demeter and Kore: Corinth, Sanctuary of, 23, 87, 90, 95, 113–114, 116; Isthmia, Sacred Glen, 115–116, 11538; Rachi, sanctuary of Demeter, 66–67, 116 Demetrias (Thessaly), 34319 Demetrios Poliorcetes, 2 Demosthenes, 151–153 Derveni, tombs, 139, 144, 14643, 15063 Dinippus, Ti. Claudius, 11, 213–214, 220100, 221, 245 Dio Cocceianus, 267 Diodoros Siculus, 10743 Diolkos, 3, 24

index

383

Dion: City Baths, 259–260; Temple of Asklepios, 259 Dionysiac artists, 242–243 Dionysios I, 138, 15272 Dionysios II, 152 Dionysos, 3, 116, 178120, 201, 231173, 267 dipinti, 88, 225134 Discovery Units (DUs), 292. See also Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey dolphins. See Palaimon

Flamininus, T. Quinctius, 2–3, 26738 fortifications: of Byllis, 32913; of Corinth, 330; Isthmian, Classical period, 2; Late Helladic, 24, 32; projects, 331, 340108. See also Hexamilion; Isthmia: Fortress Fournoi (Argolid), 31 frigidarium, 247, 250, 252, 256, 258– 260, 268 frontier/frontier zone, 37, 328 funerals, 138, 152, 154 funerary monuments, 138

rial in, 41, 161, 312, 3129, 32032, 325; scaffolding, 323–324. See also Isthmia: Fortress Hierapolis, 167 Hirtianus, K. Fadius, 217, 21773, 21877–86, 219 Homer, 124–125 houses: Greek, 75–79; Late Helladic, 13, 19–20, 27–30; Roman, 271–287. See also Isthmia: Rachi settlement hunting, 140, 146, 148, 14959, 150, 172–173

Early Bronze Age, 254, 31–32, 3318 East Field. See Isthmia: East of Temenos East Isthmia Archaeological Project, 271 Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey (EKAS), 8, 9, 25, 271, 2891, 290–291, 305, 308–309 eisagogeus, 220–221 Eleusis, 170, 174, 243–244; Northeast Baths, 257–258; Propylaea Baths, 258, 266 environment: beachrock, 32; coastline reconstruction, 25, 27, 32–33, 35; coring, 28; geomorphology and geomorphological processes, 27, 33–34; wetlands, 25, 32 Ephesus: festivals, 243; sculpture, 167; Temple of Artemis, 10425 Epidauros, 238219, 239; Baths of Asklepios, 266; Northeast Baths, 258–259, 265 epigraphy, 327 euergetism. See Herodos Atticus; Iuventianus, P. Licinius Priscus Eusebios, 180 Eutyches, G. Ioulios, neokoros, 182

geology, geomorphology. See environment geophysical survey, 33–32; marine, 32 GIS (Geographic Information System), 271 Glykon, 177 Gonia (Corinthia), 24, 291, 297, 303 GPS (Global Positioning System), 27; differential, 27 graffiti, 325 Granicus River, battle of, 142, 14643, 15381, 155 grave gifts, 138, 150, 15064, 15065, 15068 Great Circular Pit. See Isthmia: buildings and monuments: Archaic Reservoir

Illyricum, 328, 331, 33124, 336–337, 339 imperial cult, 167, 181136, 183, 237210, 239, 241, 250, 2506 initiation, 17272, 174–175, 17699, 178, 182–183. See also mysteries; Palaimon, cult of inscriptions, 115, 168–169, 171–172, 327, 330–331, 333–334, 336; Corinthian, 172, 330, 336, 33783; Early Christian, 329; Justinianic, 327, 331–335, 338–339. See also dipinti; graffiti Iolaos, 138 Isocrates, 155, 15693 Isthmia: Archaic temple deposit, 972, 982, 102–106, 108–109; historiography, 6–8, 109, 116, 159–161, 295–296, 305–306, 309, 311; history of, 1–6, 9–12, 133–134, 289–291, 296–297, 304–305, 308; Late Helladic settlement, 13–24; local infrastructure, 272, 280, 284; spolia from, 318–319; terracing, 278–279. See also Pausanias buildings and monuments: Archaic Reservoir, 83–84, 8614, 15, 8826, 27, 9032, 33, 9140, 92–93, 119–121; Archaic Temple, 95, 97–98, 102– 108; Classical Temple, 41, 57, 85, 95–98, 972, 982; Earlier Stadium, 7, 22, 179, 274, 278; Later Stadium, 5, 7, 172, 1947, 231, 266, 305; Palaimonion, 3–4, 11, 159–192, 231, 3127, 313, 32236; Roman Bath, 247–251, 268; Sacred Glen, 115– 116, 11538; Southeast Propylon, 272; Theater, 4; Theater Cave, 86; West Cemetery, 350; West Foundation, 133–134, 13711, 138–140, 142, 144, 146, 148–154, 156, 305; West Waterworks, 859, 178, 28219 East of Temenos: 271–272, 274–275, 281, 283–284, 286–287; altar, 282;

Fadii, 220–221 farming. See agriculture faunal analysis, 86 Favorinus, 223 feasting, 83, 86–90, 92–94; pottery for, 86–90 figurines: boat, 111–112; bronze, 1107, 11111; bull, 110–111; centaur, 11422; dog, 111; gold leaf, 11111; handmade, 110, 112–113, 116; horse and rider, 109–114, 116, 11849; human, 111–112; kouros, 112; lead, 11214; moldmade, 112–113, 115; obese woman, 115; Papposilenos, 116; production of, 1094, 112; terracotta, 109, 113–116; votive, 109, 11427

Hadrian, 164, 17167, 173, 221, 236, 242–243, 246 Halicarnassus, Mausoleum, 174 harbors, 2–3, 25, 35. See also Kalamianos; Kenchreai; Korphos; Lechaion hekatompedon, 39, 41, 58. See also Isthmia: buildings and monuments: Archaic Temple hellenodikes, 216, 220 Hellotia, 229 Henotikon, 336 Hera, 93, 11428 Heraia (Olympia), 226142, 227, 243 hero cult, 156, 176, 178, 178119, 120, 181, 231, 26433 Herodes Atticus, 173–175; family portraiture, 162–164, 167, 174–175; pupils of, 173 Herodotos, 2, 56 heroon. See Isthmia: buildings and monuments: West Foundation hestiatoria, 86 Hexamilion, 5, 6, 7, 179, 267, 312, 3127, 9, 313, 314, 328, 329, 339; building teams, 325–326; construction date, 161, 1619; reused mate-

384 Isthmia: East of Temenos (continued) construction phases/types, 274–276; destruction, 275, 280, 282, 284; tunnel, 277, 282, 284 Fortress: 4, 5, 6, 41, 161, 16527, 305, 312–315, 32032, 328–329, 335, 339; gates, 6, 313, 315, 31827, 325, 329, 33015; inscriptions on, 331; staircases, 314; towers, 314–315, 31826, 325. See also Hexamilion Rachi settlement: andrones, 74, 76–78, 81; basements, 79–81; bathtubs, 73, 80; cisterns, 669, 67, 69, 73, 76, 80; courtyards, 67, 69, 70, 73, 74–79, 78; in early travelers’ accounts, 6; history of, 2, 81; houses, 65, 67, 69, 73, 77–79; koprones, 80, 8166; North Building, 65–66, 69, 8171; press rooms, 67, 69, 73, 79; roof tiles, 69; sanctuary of Demeter, 66–67, 116 Isthmian Games, 2, 9–10, 151, 15273, 155, 159, 168, 171, 193–194, 1944, 5, 196, 220100, 271–272, 2909, 304; agonothetes, 167, 168, 170, 213–214, 219, 221, 234–235, 237, 239, 246; contests for boys, 225– 229; dromos, 225–227, 229–233, 246; race for maidens, 227; Roman period, 233–245; at Sikyon, 193, 235, 239–240 Isthmus of Corinth: history of archaeological research, 6–12; in history, 1–4; topography, 4–6. See also Diolkos; fortifications; Hexamilion Iuventianus, P. Licinius Priscus, 11, 115, 159–160, 16051, 168–171, 179–180, 182–183 jewelry, 98, 102, 103, 105; pins, Glasinac, 138, 150 Justinian, 328, 329–332, 335–339, 33781, 33890, 340 Kadirli (Turkey), 163–164, 167 Kalamianos, 9, 27–32, 33–38; chronology, 36–38; Early Bronze Age, 254, 3172, 35; geomorphic and environmental setting, 32–34; terrace walls, 289, 32–33; urban plan, 27–30; water supply, 25, 34. See also obsidian; Stiri Kalapodi, 129 Kalaureia, Sanctuary of Poseidon, 11112 Katounistra (Corinthia), villa, 304 Kenchreai, 289, 290–291, 295–297, 306; lamps, 342, 346–347; Late Helladic pottery, 24; port, 3, 308 Kenchreai Cemetery Project, 308

index Kiapha Thiti (Attica), 37 Kolonna (Aigina), 35–38 kopron, 80, 8166 Kore. See Demeter and Kore Korphos, 25, 27, 31–32, 34 Kos, 162 kouros, 84–85, 112, 11214 Kraneion, 340 Kromna, 75, 297–298, 303–304, 306, 309, 340 Kyras Vrysi. See Isthmia Kyrene, 164, 170–171 Labeo, A. Vatronius, 215 Lamian War, 154 lamps: African stamped, 34421, 347; Athens, 343, 34317, 344, 34627, 347– 351; Broneer type XXXII, 341–342, 344, 349, 351; Christian, 341; circular, 341–351; Hayes type II, 341, 34319, 344, 346, 348, 350; incised decor, 341, 343; molded 34313, 349, 351; Nemea, 343, 34312, 347; North Africa, 344; Palaimonion, 172, 183; Peloponnesian types, 341, 343–344, 346, 348–349, 351; punches, 341, 34311, 346–347; Sicilian, 341–343, 347–348, 351; stamps, 341–344, 346, 348–349, 351; Syracuse, 341– 342, 3413, 344, 347–348. See also under Argos; Corinth; Kenchreai; Olympia Large Circular Pit. See Isthmia: buildings and monuments: Archaic Reservoir late antiquity, 98, 108, 197, 1979, 199, 228, 304, 312–313, 32644. See also Christianity; fortifications Late Bronze Age, 24, 25, 27, 32, 37–38 Late Helladic: architecture, 13–24, 289, 29, 31; fortifications, 24; palaces, 30; pottery, 20–22, 29–30, 37. See also Kalamianos; Korphos Leake, W. M., 6, 311, 3111, 3 Lechaion, 3, 289, 29621; basilica, 333– 335, 340 Lerna (Argolid), 31 Leukadia, 139, 14024 Libanius, 3 Liri River (Italy), 105 liturgy, 333–337, 339–340 Livy, 2, 3 Localized Cultural Anomalies (LOCAs), 292. See also Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey loutron, 264 Lucius Verus, 166, 175

index Macedonia, Macedonians, 2, 11, 77, 133, 138–140, 142, 148–154, 157; wars, 2, 81 mantis, 180–181 Marathon, 175. See also Herodes Atticus marble, Pentelic, 162, 164, 167, 175, 185, 188 Marcus Aurelius, 172–176, 182, 235 masonry: anathyrosis, 40, 45–48, 52, 54, 320, 322; ashlar, 40, 42, 45, 48, 54, 58, 322–323, 326; cyclopean, 29; emplecton, 320, 32237; graffiti on, 325; isodomic, 39–40, 42, 321; Late Antique, 311–326; mortar and rubble, 313–314, 318–323, 325; opus incertum, 281; opus reticulatum, 256; opus sectile, 333; opus testaceum, 32237; polygonal, 134, 321; recycled, 161, 312, 318–320, 324; shuttering, 321; socketed scaffolding, 323–324; types, 274–275. See also architects; architecture; masons masons, 48, 151, 320–322, 325–326; materials, 161, 312, 321–322; work crews, 312, 325–326. See also Hexamilion; Isthmia: Fortress Maximus, Ti. Claudius, 216 measurement: cubit (royal), 56; foot, 56 meat, sacrificial, 90 Megalopolis, 15278, 157, 216 megaron, 268 Melikertes. See Palaimon Messene, 214, 216; Sanctuary of Asklepios, 261–262 metalworking, hollow-forged, 140, 14028, 142, 144, 149 Methana (Argolid), 32 Middle Helladic pottery, 20–22 Minturno (Italy), 105 Monceaux, Paul, 6, 317, 329 Monophysites, 337 mosaics, 247, 252, 254, 256, 260, 304, 332, 334; Alexander Mosaic, 142, 146, 14646; Nereid mosaic (Isthmia), 8, 249–250, 254, 268; at Pella, 146, 148; in South Stoa (Corinth), 21126 Mycenae, 35, 36, 3627, 37–38; shaft graves, 35; terrace walls, 289, 32–34 Mycenaean. See Late Helladic mysteries: Adanian (Messenia), 170; Eleusinian, 244; Samothracian, 183. See also Palaimon Naxos, 99, 105 Nemea, 11214, 114, 252, 262, 263; Greek bath, 262, 263, 264; stadium, 1947. See also under lamps

Nemean Games, 10532, 10743, 1932, 221106, 222, 237, 237209, 238219, 243 Nero, 197, 202, 205, 212–214, 219, 22095, 236, 244–245, 254 Nicene. See Creed, Nicene-Constantinopolitan Nichoria, 19 Nikopolis: Proaskeion Baths, 265–266. See also Actian Games obsidian, 22, 31 oligarchy, 149, 151–152 Olympia, 152, 157, 180, 181, 216, 227; East (“Octagon”) Baths, 251, 252, 255; figurines, 1107, 114, 11424; Kladeos Baths, 252, 255, 256, 265; lamps, 343, 34313, 349, 34937, 38, 350, 351; Nymphaeum of Herodes Atticus, sculpture from, 162–163, 167; running track, 1947; South Baths, 252; Southwest Baths, 255– 256, 265; Temple of Zeus, 95 Olympias, 138, 153 Olympic Games, 1932, 221106, 222, 242–244, 25616 Olynthos, 77–79, 153. See also houses: Greek Oneion, Mt. (Corinthia), 297 Opheltes, 11422. See also Nemea oral genres: acclamations, liturgical hymns, prayers, 332–334 Ostia, 165, 167 palaestrae, 247, 254, 256, 262, 264– 265, 267–268 Palaimon (Melikertes), 3–4; cult of, 168–169, 172, 17272, 182; depictions of, 176, 223112, 231. See also initiation; Isthmia: buildings and monuments: Palaimonion; Portunus; priests; torches palatial period, 29–30, 37; post-palatial period, 30 Pan and Muses, 159, 176–177, 181. See also Arkadia: cult of Pan Panathenaia (Athens), 226137, 231178, 232, 240231, 244 panhellenic festivals, 105, 114, 151, 193; sanctuaries, 27, 11214. See also Isthmian Games; Nemean Games; Olympic Games Pano Magoula (Corinthia), 304 papacy, 328, 336 Patras, Patrae, 215–216, 226–227, 34319 Pausanias, 3, 7, 11, 10743, 177, 180, 194, 226–227, 271–272, 274, 289, 311

385 Pella, 146, 148 Peloponnese, northeastern, 113–114 Perachora, 405, 11319, 114, 120 Perdikaria (Corinthia), 297, 304, 306, 309 Perge, 164, 167, 236 periboloi, 115, 137–138 Persian Wars, 95, 107 phenomenological perspective, 35–36 Philip II, 133, 139, 144, 149, 151–157 Philip III, Arrhidaios, 139 Philippi, 335 Philostratos, 173–174, 180, 182 Phoinikas (Thessaloniki), tombs, 139, 144 Pindar, 1, 2, 5870, 10532 Piso, L. Calpurnius, 205, 212, 245 Pliny the Younger, 244, 261 Polyaenus, C. Julius, 219 Polybios, 2, 26331 ports. See harbors Portunus, 17699. See also Palaimon Poseidon, 103–105, 108, 114. See also Isthmia; Kalaureia, Sanctuary of Poseidon pottery: African Red Slip, 296, 30652, 34319, 346; amphoras, Roman, 202, 292, 303, 308; Attic, 85, 95, 9659, 14025; Çandarli, 296, 30652, 308; Chian kantharoi, 33, 93; dipinti on, 88; Early Iron Age, 66; Early Roman diagnostic, 30652; Eastern Sigillata, 30652, 346; Late Helladic, 20–22, 66; Middle Helladic, 20–21, 37; mortaria, 86–89; Phocaean ware, 292, 30652; production in Corinth, 88–94; Protocorinthian, 119–120, 122–131; pseudo-Cypriot, 138, 150; for sanctuary dining, 84, 86–92; supply of, 93. See also dipinti; lamps; vase painters Praeneste, 215 Priene, 116 priests, 162, 167–170 Procopius, 330–331, 339–340 prophets. See mantis Pulcher, Cn. Cornelius, 214, 235, 238, 238218, 219, 239, 246 Pyrgi (Italy), Santa Marinella, 165 pyrophoros, 172, 17276, 227 quarries, 5, 48–49, 58, 68, 2906, 297, 306, 30650 Rachi. See Isthmia: Rachi settlement Rachi Boska (Corinthia), 24. See also Perdikaria

386 Ravenna, 334 roads/crossroads, 3, 6, 154, 266, 296– 297, 304, 306, 309, 31068; Roman, 297, 29729, 328 romanization, 289–290 Romanou (Messenia), 31 Rome, 165, 176, 178, 18351, 241, 312; Arch of Constantine, 173; Baths of Caracalla, 326; Via Appia, 105. See also Ostia Sacred Glen. See under Isthmia: buildings and monuments sacrifice, 1, 9032, 131, 176, 261–262; holocaustic, 3; offering, 176 Salamis, 32 Samos, Heraion, 88, 93 Samothrace, 183, 263 Saronic Gulf, coast of, 25, 32, 36–37 Saronic Harbors Archaeological Research Project (SHARP), 25 sculpture: “pagan,” 4 17; Palaimonion group, 159–192; Roman emperors, 162–165, 167, 173–175, 182–183. See also Herodes Atticus sea-level change. See environment Sebastea (Corinth, Isthmia), 11, 194, 205, 213, 219, 229, 233–245 seers. See mantis Sepeia, battle of, 107 Septimius Severus, 165, 167, 174 settlement: patterns, 290, 292, 295– 297; Roman, 290–291, 295–296, 305, 309; rural, 2893, 309; within sanctuaries, 25616, 272 settlement types: communities, 304–307; elite residences, 290, 298, 303–304, 306, 310; farmsteads, 303; towns, 308; urban, 2893, 309; urban periphery, 290, 309, 310 Sicily, 151–153, 15591, 156. See also under lamps Sikyon, coinage, 99, 105, 219–220. See also Isthmian Games Sisyphos, 159, 167–168, 179–183 Skyros (Greece), 99, 105

index Slavic invasions, 350 Smyrna, 244 snakes, 177–178, 181, 183, 192, 282 solea, 333–334. See also churches Sparta, 151–152, 155, 219, 343 spoliation, 161, 312, 326 Stiri (Corinthia), 28, 32, 34 stone: andesite, 31; karren/rillenkarren, 33; marble, 58, 159, 160, 162, 164; oolitic limestone, 5, 58. See also masonry; quarries Strabo, 3, 289 strigil, 138, 150, 157, 264. See also tools Stymphalos, 76 suburbs, 309. See also settlement; settlement types supplication, 124–125 survey, archaeological, 27, 290, 292, 295–298, 303, 305, 30859. See also Eastern Korinthia Archaeological Survey symposium, 94 synodos, 221–222 Syracuse, 138, 152. See also under lamps Tadius, P., 215–216 Tarraco (Tarragona, Spain), 175, 17596, 21987 temples. See under individual sites Thasos, 77, 7861, 129, 16526. See also houses: Greek Theotokos, 330, 337–338, 33783 Theseus, 3 Thespiae, 21992, 224, 228154, 229163 “Three Chapters Controversy,” 336 Thucydides, 3, 155, 289 Tiberius, 162, 167, 16949, 17058, 174, 19716, 21336, 214, 217, 235, 237– 240 tiles. See architecture: roof tiles Timoleon, 138, 15169, 153, 156 Tiryns, 10743 tools: adze, 44–45, 48, 50, 53–54; clamps, 319; claw-tooth chisel, 17816, 319–320, 322; punch, 341, 34311, 346–347. See also strigil

torches, 164–166, 172, 17275, 176–177, 183; torch race, 226137, 229–233, 246 towers. See under Isthmia: Fortress trade, 310, 152, 263, 296, 342, 35150 Trajan, 165, 167, 173, 217, 219–220, 228155, 235, 235201, 236, 239, 244 Troy, 88 Tsoungiza (Argolid), 24, 37, 8614 vase painters: Aigina Bellerophon Painter, 129; BK workshop, 91; Chigi Painter, 123, 125–132; Vrysoula Workshop, 93, 96. See also pottery Vergina: Oblong Tumulus, 139, 146; snake imagery, 178; Tomb II, 139, 14024, 142, 144, 148, 15064 Veroia, gymnasiarchal law, 226137, 230165, 232186 victors list, 21126, 213–214, 220, 229– 230, 234, 239225, 239230 Viktorinos, 329–331, 337, 33783 villas, 290, 29218, 295, 297–298, 303, 304, 309; atrium-style, 304; seaside, 304; suburban, 2893; Villa of the Pig Dog, 30338, 304; villae rusticae, 304, 309–310. See also Katounistra, villa Visigoths, 312 votives. See dedications wall painting, 129, 249 weapons: deliberate damage to, 138, 150; javelins, 142, 14442, 14958; lances, 142; sarissas, 13923, 144; spears, 140, 142, 144, 146, 149–150; swords, 142, 146, 148, 150. See also metalworking West Foundation. See under Isthmia: buildings and monuments women athletes, 226–227, 226140, 238218 wood, 142 wreaths, 138, 170–171

xystarches, 11, 205, 221–222, 242, 245

with contributions by Virginia R. Anderson-Stojanović • K. W. Arafat • Eleni Balomenou William R. Caraher • Steven J. R. Ellis • Jon M. Frey Frederick P. Hemans • Liane Houghtalin • Alastar H. Jackson David K. Pettegrew • Eric E. Poehler • Martha K. Risser Mary C. Sturgeon • Thomas F. Tartaron • Vasili Tassinos • Arne Thomsen James Wiseman • Birgitta Lindros Wohl • Fikret K. Yegül