Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures in the Hellenistic and Roman East (3rd Century BC - 3rd Century AD) [Bilingual ed.] 1789699827, 9781789699821, 9781789699838

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Table of contents :
Title Page
Copyright page
Contents Page
List of Figures
List of Contributors
Territories and colonial settlements
To the memory of
Anton Powell (1947-2020) and Alexandru Avram (1956-2021)
Margherita Facella
Part 1
Hellenistic colonization and local culture in Commagene and Northern Cyrrhestice
Giuseppe Scardozzi
The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization
Figure 1. DEM of western Turkey based on data from the Shuttle Radar Topography Mission (SRTM).
Figure 3. A funerary tumulus of the Hellenistic age from the territory of Hierapolis.
Figure 2. DEM of the territory of Hierapolis based on data from Advanced Spaceborne Thermal Emission and Reflection Radiometer (ASTER): in white the ancient settlements (squares = cities; points = villages), the sites where funerary tumuli of the Hellenis
Figure 4. A Corona KH-4A space photograph taken in 1968. Many axes of regular land division (indicated by arrows) surviving in the modern landscape are visible in the northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau, which at the time was snow covered.
Figure 5. The northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau in a QuickBird-2 image taken in 2007, in which the sites of ancient villages and the remains of axes of an ancient regular land division are highlighted: the thick lines indicate the main axes, while
Figure 6. The central part of the northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau in a space photograph taken by satellite Hexagon KH-9 in 1980: the arrows indicate the main axes of an ancient regular land division that survive in the modern landscape.
Figure 7. DEM of the northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau based on ASTER data, in which the remains of an ancient regular land division and the sites of ancient villages are georeferenced: the thick lines indicate the main axes, while the thin lines s
Figure 8. Land divisions of the territories of Hierapolis (A), Nikaia (B) and Apollonia (C): schematic representation of the major land-plots and their hypothetical internal subdivisions.
Figure 9. The territory of Iznik-Nikaia in a space photograph taken by satellite Hexagon KH-9 in 1979: the arrows indicate the main axes of an ancient regular land division that survive in the modern landscape and is based on the three ancient roads out o
Figure 10. The territory of Nikaia in a DEM based on SRTM data, in which is georeferenced the regular system of land division visible in satellite images: the orthogonal axes preserved (thick lines) are distinguished from the hypothesized ones (thin dashe
Figure 11. A detail from a space photograph taken in 1963 by satellite Corona KH-4 covering Iznik-Nikaia and the territory immediately around it: the large arrows indicate the main axes of an ancient regular land division that survive in the modern landsc
Figure 12. The plain of Uluborlu and the site of Apollonia in Pisidia in a space photograph taken by satellite Gambit KH-7 in 1967: the arrows indicate the main axes of a regular land division that survive in the modern landscape.
Figure 13. A detail of a Gambit KH-7 space photograph (1967) covering the site of Apollonia-Sozopolis: A) the ‘acropolis’ (Kaleiçi), with the clearly visible ruins of the modern Greek quarter built on the remains of the ancient city and abandoned in 1924;
Figure 14. A) a view of the Byzantine city walls from the west (1 and 4 = rectangular towers; 2 and 5 = gates; 3 = pentagonal tower); B) a detail of the fortification and the pentagonal tower; C) the bridge of the Cirimbolu aqueduct in the deep gorge to
Figure 15. The territory of Apollonia in a DEM based on SRTM data, in which is georeferenced a regular system of land division visible in satellite images: the orthogonal axes preserved (thick lines) are distinguished from the hypothesized ones (thin dash
Figure 16. Indigenous gods of the territory of Hierapolis adopted in the Greek pantheon and assimilated to Hellenic deities: A) the top of a stele where are represented (down) Artemis between Men on horse (left) and probably Apollo Karios on horseback (ri
Adrian Dumitru
On the Treaty of Apamea. The territorial clause
Nicholas Sekunda
The nature of Attalid katoikiai (188-133 BC)
Hadrien Bru
Les Thraces et Lyciens en Phrygie Parorée aux époques hellénistique et romaine
Carte: La Phrygie Parorée et le Taurus méridional.
Rolf Strootman
The introduction of Hellenic cults in Seleukid Syria
Map 1. The northern Levant in early Hellenistic Times.
Map 2. The principal Seleukid foundations in the lower Orontes region (author/Ancient World Mapping Center).
Figure 1. View of the akropolis of Seleukeia in Pieria (Çevlik, near Samandağ) from the north (author’s photograph, 1999).
Figure 2. View of Mount Silpios, and the old city of Antakya, from across the Orontes River (author’s photograph, 1999).
Figure 3. Laurel leaves from the sacred grove of Daphne (author’s collection).
Figure 4. Silver tetradrachm of Seleukos I from Seleukeia-on-the-Tigris, early third century BCE. Obverse showing a youthful Herakles wearing a lion’s skin; reverse Zeus enthroned, facing left, holding eagle and scepter, with inscription BΑΣIΛΕΩΣ ΣEΛEYKΟΥ
Adrian Robu
Les relations entre les Thraces et les cités grecques de la mer Noire
Lucia Francesca Carbone
Late cistophoric production during the Mithridatic Wars
Figure 1. Mint ratio in 2002 hoard.
Figure 2. Mint ratio in cistophoric hoards dated 100-88 BC (excluding 2002 hoard).
Figure 4. Numerical relevance of the latest issues in Ephesus and Pergamum included in 2002 hoard (specimens).
Figure 3. Late cistophoric production in tetradrachms obverse dies per year (2002 hoard).
Figure 5. Numerical relevance of the latest issues in Ephesus and Pergamum included in 2002 hoard (obverse dies).
Table 1. Calculation of the number of cistophoric issues (128-89 BC) according to Esty 2006.
Figure 6. Chronological breakdown of the specimens included in the 2002 hoard.
Figure 7 Number of tetradrachm obverse dies per year for the mints of Pergamum, Ephesus and Tralles (source 2002 hoard).
Figure 9. Late cistophoric production in Tralles (89-77 BC).
Figure 8. Number of obverse dies vs. specimens in Ephesus (after de Callataÿ 1997).
Table 2. Trallian late cistophoric issues between 89 and 77 BC.
Table 3. Late cistophoric issues between 75 and c. 60 BC excluding fractions.
Figure 10. Late cistophoric production in Tralles (89-60s BC).
Gilles Bransbourg
Regional currencies within an empire
Chart 1. Weights of 986 denarii from the American Numismatic Society’s collection, between 211 and 117 BC.
Chart 2. Weights of 794 Cistophoric tetradrachms from the American Numismatic Society’s collection.
Plates 1 and 2. Greek hemiobols, silver and bronze: 1. Peloponnesus, Psophis, hemiobol, 5th century BC, 0.34 g, 7 mm, AR, ANS 1968.57.61; 2. Peloponnesus, Messenia, Thuria, hemiobol, 2nd century BC, 6.02 g, 22 mm, AE, SNG Cop. 542-4, ANS 2006.31.2.
Plates 3, 4 and 5. Roman Republican bronze asses, decreasing weights: 3. Rome (Crescent symbol), as, 207 BC, 41.93 g, 36 mm, AE, RRC 57/3, ANS 1969.83.251, gift of Eugene R. Miles; 4. Rome (Murena), as, 169-158 BC, 23.72 g, 32.5 mm, AE, RRC 186/1, ANS 196
Plates 6, 7, 8 and 9. Sestertius, from silver to bronze: 6. Rome (T. Carisius), sestertius, 46-45 BC, 0.96 g, 10 mm, AR, RRC 464/8a, ANS 1944.100.3327, estate of Edward T. Newell; 7. Achaia (L. Sempronius Atratinus serving Marc Antony), sestertius (light
Plates 10 and 11. Imperial as, provincial assarion (Augustus): 10. Rome (Tiberius under Augustus), as, AD 10-11, 10.61 g, 26.5 mm, AE, RIC 469 (2nd ed.), ANS 1944.100.39273, estate of Edward T. Newell; 11. Ephesus, one-unit (=assarion?), 27 BC - AD 14, 5.
Chart 3. Weights of 313 Peloponnesian bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, from the late 5th century BC until the reign of Antoninus Pius (AD 138-161).
Chart 4. Weights of 985 Macedonian bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, from the 5th century BC until the reign of Trajan (AD 98-117).
Chart 5. Weight histogram of 723 Asia Minor bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, 30 BC – AD 117.
Chart 6. Weight histogram of 268 Asia Minor bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, 133-30 BC.
Chart 7. Chart 4: Weight histogram of 780 Asia Minor bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, c. 300-133 BC.
Richard Wenghofer
Decolonizing the Indo-Greeks
Plate 2. Double-Headed Eagle Stupa, Taxila(Livius:
Plate 1. Ionic Column, Jandial Temple, Taxila(Livius:
Plate 3. Bronze Karshapana of Pantaleon with bilingual Greek/Karoshthi inscription(Coinindia:
Plate 4. Bronze karshapana of Agathocles with bilingual Greek/Karoshthi inscription(Coinindia:
Plate 5. Indian standard drachm of Apollodotus I with bilingual Greek/Karoshthi legend(Coinindia:
Figure 1: Map of the Indo-Greek Kingdoms(Ancient History Encyclopedia:
Plate 6. Silver Tetradrachm of Maues (c. 90-60 BC) (Coinindia:
Julien Demaille
Entre perte d’autonomie, acculturation et intégration
Figure 1. La dédicace bilingue à Anthestia Iucunda.
Figure 2. Répartition des porteurs et des non-porteurs de gentilice sur le territoire de la colonie romaine de Dion.
Oleg Gabelko
Paus. X. 23. 14 on the Galatians’ Passage to Asia
Attila Jakab
Les chrétiens d’Asie Mineure et l’évangélisation du Barbaricum danubien (IIIe-IVe siècles)
D.J. Houle
Soldiers and Hellenism: Recruitment in the Hellenistic Militaries
Katherine Low
Germanicus, Trajan, and the Date of Annals 1-6
Oleg Alexandrov
Two military camps on the Roman Limes
Figure 1. The eastern part of the Roman Empire in the 2nd century AD.
Figure 3. Military calendar Feriale Duranum (detail).
Figure 2. The Roman military fortress at Dura-Europos.
Figure 4. The Roman military fortress at Novae.
Figure 5. The headquarters building (principia) at Novae.
Figure 6. The headquarters building (principia) at Novae.
Ivo Topalilov
The political propaganda of the cities of Thrace and the Asianic provinces
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Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures in the Hellenistic and Roman East (3rd century BC – 3rd century AD)

edited by

Hadrien Bru, Adrian G. Dumitru and Nicholas Sekunda

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures in the Hellenistic and Roman East (3rd century BC – 3rd century AD) Géopolitique coloniale et cultures locales dans l’Orient hellénistique et romain (IIIe siècle av. J.-C. – IIIe siècle ap. J.-C.)

edited by

Hadrien Bru, Adrian G. Dumitru and Nicholas Sekunda

Archaeopress Archaeology

Archaeopress Publishing Ltd Summertown Pavilion 18-24 Middle Way Summertown Oxford OX2 7LG

ISBN 978-1-78969-982-1 ISBN 978-1-78969-983-8 (e-Pdf) © Archaeopress and the individual authors 2021

Cover: Pisido-Graeco-Roman funerary stele from Tymbriada, 2nd-3rd century AD (Pisidia, Turkey) © Ph. Hadrien Bru

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owners. This book is available direct from Archaeopress or from our website


List of Figures............................................................................................................................................................................... iii List of Contributors...................................................................................................................................................................... vi Introduction..................................................................................................................................................................................1

Part 1 Territories and colonial settlements Hellenistic colonization and local culture in Commagene and Northern Cyrrhestice.............................................7 Margherita Facella The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization and some remarks on Nikaia in Bithynia and Apollonia in Pisidia: the evidence from archaeological surveys and satellite remote sensing...........................................................................................................................................................18 Giuseppe Scardozzi On The Treaty of Apamea. The territorial clause..............................................................................................................35 Adrian Dumitru The nature of Attalid katoikiai (188-133 BC)........................................................................................................................49 Nicholas Sekunda Les Thraces et Lyciens en Phrygie Parorée aux époques hellénistique et romaine.................................................56 Hadrien Bru

Part 2 Economics and imperial domination The introduction of Hellenic cults in Seleukid Syria: colonial appropriation and transcultural exchange in the creation of an Imperial landscape................................................................................73 Rolf Strootman Les relations entre les Thraces et les cités grecques de la mer Noire : conflits, alliances, transferts institutionnels............................................................................................................................................................................92 Adrian Robu Late cistophoric production during the Mithridatic Wars: a comparison between the mints of Ephesus and Tralles.................................................................................................................................................................100 Lucia Francesca Carbone Regional currencies within an empire. Bronze coinages of Greece and Asia at the time of the Roman conquest: a case of partial monetary convergence........................................................................................................110 Gilles Bransbourg

Part 3 Indigenous cultures and colonial contacts Decolonizing the Indo-Greeks..............................................................................................................................................126 Richard Wenghofer i

Entre perte d’autonomie, acculturation et intégration : les incolae de la colonie romaine de Dion.................137 Julien Demaille Paus. X. 23. 14 on the Galatians’ Passage to Asia: lost in translation.........................................................................148 Oleg Gabelko Les chrétiens d’Asie Mineure et l’évangélisation du Barbaricum danubien (IIIe-IVe siècles). Des relations assez mal connues..........................................................................................................................................152 Attila Jakab

Part 4 Forms of military presence Soldiers and Hellenism: recruitment in the Hellenistic militaries............................................................................160 D.J. Houle Germanicus, Trajan, and the date of Annals 1-6...............................................................................................................167 Katherine Low Two military camps on the Roman Limes: Dura-Europos and Novae (an example of Roman Imperial propaganda through official state religion).....................................................................................................................174 Oleg Alexandrov The political propaganda of the cities of Thrace and the Asianic provinces. Some aspects of interactions (A preliminary study)......................................................................................................181 Ivo Topalilov Indices.........................................................................................................................................................................................205 Geographical index..............................................................................................................................................................205 Index of personal names.....................................................................................................................................................211 Cultural, historical, geographical and political communities......................................................................................215 Deities....................................................................................................................................................................................217


List of Figures

Part 1 Territories and colonial settlements

Giuseppe Scardozzi: The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization and some remarks on Nikaia in Bithynia and Apollonia in Pisidia: the evidence from archaeological surveys and satellite remote sensing

Figure 1. DEM of western Turkey based on data from the Shuttle Radar Topography Mission (SRTM)............................................. 19 Figure 2. DEM of the territory of Hierapolis based on data from Advanced Spaceborne Thermal Emission and Reflection Radiometer (ASTER)................................................................................................................................................................ 20 Figure 3. A funerary tumulus of the Hellenistic age from the territory of Hierapolis........................................................................... 20 Figure 4. A Corona KH-4A space photograph taken in 1968........................................................................................................................ 21 Figure 5. The northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau in a QuickBird-2 image taken in 2007.......................................................... 21 Figure 6. The central part of the northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau in a space photograph taken by satellite Hexagon KH-9 in 1980................................................................................................................................................................................ 22 Figure 7. DEM of the northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau based on ASTER data......................................................................... 22 Figure 8. Land divisions of the territories of Hierapolis (A), Nikaia (B) and Apollonia (C).................................................................... 23 Figure 9. The territory of Iznik-Nikaia in a space photograph taken by satellite Hexagon KH-9 in 1979........................................... 25 Figure 10. The territory of Nikaia in a DEM based on SRTM data.............................................................................................................. 26 Figure 11. A detail from a space photograph taken in 1963 by satellite Corona KH-4 covering Iznik-Nikaia and the territory immediately around it........................................................................................................................................................ 27 Figure 12. The plain of Uluborlu and the site of Apollonia in Pisidia in a space photograph taken by satellite Gambit KH-7 in 1967.................................................................................................................................................................... 28 Figure 13. A detail of a Gambit KH-7 space photograph (1967) covering the site of Apollonia-Sozopolis.......................................... 29 Figure 14. A) a view of the Byzantine city walls from the west; B) a detail of the fortification and the pentagonal tower; C) the bridge of the Cirimbolu aqueduct in the deep gorge to the south of the hill........................................................................ 30 Figure 15. The territory of Apollonia in a DEM based on SRTM data........................................................................................................ 30 Figure 16. Indigenous gods of the territory of Hierapolis adopted in the Greek pantheon and assimilated to Hellenic deities............................................................................................................................................................................................ 31

Hadrien Bru: Les Thraces et Lyciens en Phrygie Parorée aux époques hellénistique et romaine

Carte: La Phrygie Parorée et le Taurus méridional....................................................................................................................................... 59

Part 2 Economics and imperial domination

Rolf Strootman: The introduction of Hellenic cults in Seleukid Syria: colonial appropriation and transcultural exchange in the creation of an Imperial landscape

Map 1. The northern Levant in early Hellenistic Times.............................................................................................................................. 75 Map 2. The principal Seleukid foundations in the lower Orontes region................................................................................................. 76 Figure 1. View of the akropolis of Seleukeia in Pieria (Çevlik, near Samandağ) from the north.......................................................... 78 Figure 2. View of Mount Silpios, and the old city of Antakya, from across the Orontes River.............................................................. 79 Figure 3. Laurel leaves from the sacred grove of Daphne............................................................................................................................ 81 Figure 4. Silver tetradrachm of Seleukos I from Seleukeia-on-the-Tigris, early third century BCE..................................................... 82

Lucia Francesca Carbone: Late cistophoric production during the Mithridatic Wars: a comparison between the mints of Ephesus and Tralles

Figure 1. Mint ratio in 2002 hoard................................................................................................................................................................. 101 Figure 2. Mint ratio in cistophoric hoards dated 100-88 BC...................................................................................................................... 101 Figure 3. Late cistophoric production in tetradrachms obverse dies per year (2002 hoard)............................................................... 102 Figure 4. Numerical relevance of the latest issues in Ephesus and Pergamum included in 2002 hoard............................................ 102 Figure 5. Numerical relevance of the latest issues in Ephesus and Pergamum included in 2002 hoard............................................ 102 Figure 6. Chronological breakdown of the specimens included in the 2002 hoard............................................................................... 104 Figure 7 Number of tetradrachm obverse dies per year for the mints of Pergamum, Ephesus and Tralles..................................... 105 Figure 8. Number of obverse dies vs. specimens in Ephesus.................................................................................................................... 106 Figure 9. Late cistophoric production in Tralles (89-77 BC)...................................................................................................................... 106 Figure 10. Late cistophoric production in Tralles (89-60s BC).................................................................................................................. 108 Table 1. Calculation of the number of cistophoric issues (128-89 BC) according to Esty 2006............................................................ 103 Table 2. Trallian late cistophoric issues between 89 and 77 BC................................................................................................................ 107 Table 3. Late cistophoric issues between 75 and c. 60 BC excluding fractions....................................................................................... 108


Gilles Bransbourg: Regional currencies within an Empire. Bronze coinages of Greece and Asia at the time of the Roman conquest: a case of partial monetary convergence

Chart 1. Weights of 986 denarii from the American Numismatic Society’s collection, between 211 and 117 BC............................. 111 Chart 2. Weights of 794 Cistophoric tetradrachms from the American Numismatic Society’s collection........................................ 112 Chart 3. Weights of 313 Peloponnesian bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, from the late 5th century BC until the reign of Antoninus Pius (AD 138-161).................................................................................................................................... 121 Chart 4. Weights of 985 Macedonian bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, from the 5th century BC until the reign of Trajan (AD 98-117)............................................................................................................................................................... 121 Chart 5. Weight histogram of 723 Asia Minor bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, 30 BC – AD 117................... 121 Chart 6. Weight histogram of 268 Asia Minor bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, 133-30 BC........................... 121 Chart 7. Chart 4: Weight histogram of 780 Asia Minor bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, c. 300-133 BC....... 122 Plates 1 and 2. Greek hemiobols, silver and bronze: 1. Peloponnesus, Psophis, hemiobol; 2. Peloponnesus, Messenia, Thuria, hemiobol......................................................................................................................................................................................... 114 Plates 3, 4 and 5. Roman Republican bronze asses, decreasing weights: 3. Rome (Crescent symbol), as; 4. Rome (Murena), as; 5. Rome (Q. Titius), as........................................................................................................................................ 115 Plates 6, 7, 8 and 9. Sestertius, from silver to bronze: 6. Rome (T. Carisius), sestertius; 7. Achaia (L. Sempronius Atratinus serving Marc Antony), sestertius; 8. Asia, Pergamum? (under Augustus), sestertius; 9. Rome (C. Gallius Lupercus, under Augustus), sestertius.................................................................................................................................................................................. 118 Plates 10 and 11. Imperial as, provincial assarion (Augustus): 10. Rome (Tiberius under Augustus), as; 11. Ephesus, one-unit (=assarion?).......................................................................................................................................................... 119

Part 3 Indigenous cultures and colonial contacts

Richard Wenghofer: Decolonizing the Indo-Greeks

Plate 1. Ionic Column, Jandial Temple, Taxila............................................................................................................................................. 131 Plate 2. Double-Headed Eagle Stupa, Taxila................................................................................................................................................. 131 Plate 3. Bronze Karshapana of Pantaleon with bilingual Greek/Karoshthi inscription....................................................................... 132 Plate 4. Bronze karshapana of Agathocles with bilingual Greek/Karoshthi inscription...................................................................... 132 Plate 5. Indian standard drachm of Apollodotus I with bilingual Greek/Karoshthi legend................................................................ 133 Figure 1: Map of the Indo-Greek Kingdoms................................................................................................................................................. 134 Plate 6. Silver Tetradrachm of Maues (c. 90-60 BC)..................................................................................................................................... 134

Julien Demaille: Entre perte d’autonomie, acculturation et intégration : les incolae de la colonie romaine de Dion

Figure 1. La dédicace bilingue à Anthestia Iucunda...................................................................................................................................... 139 Figure 2. Répartition des porteurs et des non-porteurs de gentilice sur le territoire de la colonie romaine de Dion.................... 142

Part 4 Forms of military presence

Oleg Alexandrov: Two military camps on the Roman Limes: Dura-Europos and Novae (an example of Roman Imperial propaganda through official state religion)

Figure 1. The eastern part of the Roman Empire in the 2nd century AD............................................................................................... 175 Figure 2. The Roman military fortress at Dura-Europos.............................................................................................................................. 175 Figure 3. Military calendar Feriale Duranum................................................................................................................................................. 175 Figure 4. The Roman military fortress at Novae.......................................................................................................................................... 177 Figure 5. The headquarters building (principia) at Novae........................................................................................................................... 178 Figure 6. The headquarters building (principia) at Novae........................................................................................................................... 179


List of contributors

Oleg Alexandrov, Faculty Member, University of Veliko Tarnovo (Bulgaria)

D.J. Houle, University of Waterloo (Canada) Attila Jakab, Faculty Member, Civitas Europica Centralis (Budapest, Hungary)

Gilles Bransbourg, Institute for the Study of the Ancient World (New York University), American Numismatic Society (USA)

Katherine Low, Oxford University (UK) Adrian Robu, Faculty Member, Université Paris VIII, (France)

Hadrien Bru, Faculty Member, Institut des Sciences et Techniques de l’Antiquité, Université de BourgogneFranche Comté (Besançon, France)

Giuseppe Scardozzi, Istituto per i Beni Archeologici e Monumentali (CNR Lecce, Italy)

Lucia Carbone, American Numismatic Society (New York, USA)

Nicholas Sekunda, Faculty Member, Institute of Archaeology and Ethnology, University of Gdańsk (Poland)

Julien Demaille, Institut des Sciences et Techniques de l’Antiquité, Université de Bourgogne-Franche Comté (Besançon, France)

Rolf Strootman, Faculty Member, Utrecht University (Netherlands)

Adrian Dumitru, University of Bucharest/IGR (Romania) Margherita Facella, Faculty Member, Universita degli Studi di Pisa (Italy)

Ivo Topalilov, Faculty Member, Institute of Balkan Studies and Center of Thracology ‘Prof. Alexander Fol’ - Bulgarian Academy of Sciences (Sofia, Bulgaria)

Oleg Gabelko, Faculty Member, Russian State University for the Humanities (Moscow, Russia)

Richard Wenghofer, Faculty Member, Nipissing University (Canada)


To the memory of Anton Powell (1947-2020) and Alexandru Avram (1956-2021)



The contributions published in this volume in the main constitute the proceedings of a panel entitled ‘Colonial geopolitics and local cultures in the Hellenistic and Roman East (3rd century BC – 3rd century AD)’ which was held during the Celtic Conference in Classics 2014 (Edinburgh, Scotland, June 25-28th 2014), but the editors have taken the opportunity to also incorporate a number of papers given previously at the panel ‘Les relations entre les Balkans et l’Asie Mineure, de l’époque classique à la période byzantine (Ve s. av. J.-C. - Ve s. ap. J.-C.)’ which convened at Mamaia (Romania, September 23-27th, 2012) under the aegis of the Symposium international Le Livre. La Roumanie. L’ Europe. 5e édition. Due to various reasons, the final publication of both these panels has, alas, been delayed, but it is now a pleasure, at last, to produce a thematic volume incorporating all these papers. We wish to thank all the contributors for their patience, hoping that this volume will answer their expectations. The text which follows is by Hadrien Bru and is taken from the Introductory Panel of the Celtic Conference in Classics. Hadrien Bru, Adrian G. Dumitru, Nicholas Sekunda ℘ To begin, I would like to thank you sincerely for coming to be here with us in Edinburgh, in these northern territories and eschata, which will become central for us for a while. I am above all grateful to those who came here at their own expense, manifesting their interest in coming to this meeting despite the financial difficulties involved. Many thanks are of course due to Douglas Cairns and to Anton Powell for organizing such a huge event including no less than seventeen panels, as you know. Regrettably my former PhD advisor Maurice Sartre has not been able to attend. The Context of this Conference Another reason for thanking you for attending is the necessity of informing you, if you are not aware already, that you are heroes, as specialists in ancient history, a kind of person that is soon bound to disappear, because the neoconservative, liberal and authoritarian governments which we are facing, have decided to end the financial support for the Humanities and Social Sciences we used to benefit from in the past, especially in Europe. This is mostly because we do not produce any direct added value which can be measured in financial terms. Obviously the big companies or corporations are not interested in the social criticism

which arises from our studies. Consequently they deny the importance of Humanities and Cultural Studies as a whole, representing an incredible threat almost imperceptible to us, even if we have heard about certain twentieth century ‘régimes’ able to destroy the cultures. Most scholars have been surprised by this quite recent and violent attack against Humanities, which have been the basis of western culture for four hundred years, and people who thought that the University was an eternal institution are about to be highly disappointed, although we already saw clear signs of the trend fifteen years ago. I am referring to the programmatic disappearance of the University we used to know, open to the world and to universal knowledge and cultures. As concerns us, the sciences of Antiquity are of course considered useless for modern societies, and the way in which we have practiced our art since the nineteenth century has been brought into question. I fear that after a few decades, there will be very few of us left to study ancient societies officially, first because of a lack of political will, second because we need a lot of time to work on the historical or archaeological sources, and third because our studies or topics are often misunderstood and despised. But we are still here, in the field or in the libraries, to describe, to analyse and to write on Ancient History which was the basis of what has happened up to the present day. This is all in our hands. There is no more time for division and dispersion. If we want to survive, I am convinced that we have to work together closely, historians, archaeologists, epigraphists, specialists in numismatics, linguistics, etc. We have to do this, on the one hand, because it is technically necessary, and on the other hand because we have no other choice. We have to combine our energy, our knowledge, and our technical know-how, for both scientific and personal reasons. It is essential to find new dynamics, in the first place if we wish to carry on with Ancient studies, and second in order to publish new things together according to the highest standards. On this point, I think that we have to work with huge international publishing houses, but also with local university presses, trying to find a balance. In my opinion, we have to bear in mind that our books and articles will perhaps be discovered by potential readers much later on, maybe within one or two centuries, but at that time, I would like to think or to believe that our writings will be useful to build, or rebuild, other, better societies. That is why in my opinion we have two main missions: to write documented

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 1–5

Introduction synthesizes, and to propose new studies opening to future research angles for the next generations.

So, in order to introduce this panel, I would like to focus briefly on three connected considerations, which are Geopolitics, Acculturation and Cultural Identities.

Right now, together with Adrian Dumitru and Nicholas Sekunda, I have chosen to question the connection between Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures on a quite long timespan running through the Hellenistic and Roman periods. But before we deal with the research tasks directly, a few words on language. In which language should we communicate within our field? We obviously know that this significant choice is driven by social, sociological, cultural and political issues. Should we favour English as the vehicular language, eliminating the other languages as vernacular dialects bound to disappear, ‘vouées à disparaître’?

Geopolitics Geopolitics deals with populations living on a territory but subject to political forces or institutions, mainly States, which are often city-states, kingdoms, or empires. Therefore we have to consider the nature of the States involved in the act of colonization. Often, the local or native populations faced a royal State whose behaviour could rather be described as Imperial. Of course I am thinking primarily about Alexander the Great and the Seleucid Empire, and to a lesser extent about the Ptolemaic State. This latter state was less involved than the others in continental affairs, but we can find exceptions like Arabian Philadelphia which became Amman, the present capital of Jordan. Later on we encounter the Attalids and then the Romans. We know how the Achaemenid empire influenced Alexander and the Seleucids, them, but are we able to establish what precise influence the Assyrian, NeoBabylonian, or Hittite empires had on Greek or Roman colonization?

Of course not, because it would be absurd to promote a sole and unique dominating language, and at the same time to study cultural diversity in Antiquity. As General Editor of the Historical and Archaeological Atlas of Ancient Asia Minor, I have defended the need and the right of writing history in English, but also in German, in French and in Italian. It is naturally a cultural choice. Maybe there is a connection between this choice and my present work on Hellenistic and Roman Phrygia Paroreios, where the Greek language overwhelmed the Phrygian and Pisidian languages, although it took time, as the native languages were spoken in this region since the Bronze Age.

This concerns considerations such as the deportation of populations, enslaved or not, upon the foundation of urban centres, and the creation of networks of roads designed for (and sometimes constructed by) armies, and later used by merchants. What was the way in which the state watched over and administrated the colonized territories? Was it by patrols, watchtowers, garrisons, strongholds and so on? We have to map the relationship between plains and mountains. I am thinking, for example, about the communications between Pamphylia and Pisidia, or elsewhere. In every case, we have to determine whether the populations were involved or not in the new ways of managing territories. Just to take a quick example, in the mountainous range of the Sultan Dağ, in Phrygia Paroreios, we know that around the third century AD an orophylax responsible for patrolling the heights and eschatiai of the Killanian plain which was obviously colonized as a Roman Imperial estate, was murdered by bandits. We learn from an inscription that this man was called Sousou, which was a typical Phrygian local name.

The organizers of conference series the Celtic Conferences in Classics have chosen that the second conference language is French. The conferences have been organized from the beginning in the 1990s onwards, and significantly the first continental CCC was held in 2004 at Rennes 2, in France, which was my former university. It confirms the wisdom of the founders of the series, among them Anton Powell, and I thank him for that. But I do not have any illusions, because I am convinced that, for example, French, Italian, German will probably disappear as spoken languages within one or two centuries. English and Spanish will probably last a little bit more. On my side, I have chosen to give you an introduction in English, then a more personal contribution tomorrow in French. Concerning your papers, you have made your own choices. Just a last note of clarification about our panel before we go any further. Its recent background has to be understood as the third of three meetings held over the last year. The first was a meeting devoted to ‘Spaces and Territories of the Roman Eastern Colonies’ held at Besançon university and organized by myself in October; an international symposium was held in November at the university of Strasbourg and organized by Cédric Brélaz on the Greek culture in the Roman Eastern Colonies, and now this panel of the CCC.

Another question well worth asking is what changes in the material culture can we observe, when a State is overwhelming a local population with soldiers, katoikoi, and civil officials or merchants? This question is common for archaeologists, who study artefacts, statues, tools, ceramics and architecture, but we need to take these aspects into account as historians, as was done, for example, in Afghanistan at Aï Khanoum by Paul Bernard because of the lack of inscriptions there. Moving forward chronologically, it is absolutely 2


necessary to study how the Romans were influenced by Royal Hellenistic practices in the way to colonize new territories and populations, in spite of the narrow specialities well-known among scholars.

colonial conquest? In most cases onomastics can help us decide on this question. Slavery and enslavement drive us to a wider social approach: what changes in personal status were created by the irruption of colonists onto a regional landscape? We must be aware of the geopolitical mess caused by military colonization in the form of the arrival of katoikoi or veterans in a specific place. What were the exact social, legal, cultural and political relationships between the natives and the newcomers? As far as the changes affecting local geopolitics are concerned, did the indigenous communities systematically become kōmai of the Graeco-Roman colonies or not, and when? Sometimes the rural communities of Phrygia became poleis or civitates in their own right, but this was a very late development, at the beginning of the fourth century AD under Diocletianus or Constantine, a long time after the Constitutio Antoniniana. The Phrygians wanted citizen status anyway, even if by that time it was politically hardly worth having, because they wished to be respected, rather than dominated and despised by the colonial cities, which was a very common thread in the Graeco-Roman and colonial mentality.

Of course, we have to analyse systematically the precise role played by the local political, economic, social and religious élites facing the new power in the area. Was the collaboration fast? Was it long running? Where did it happen at the beginning, and where later on? Regularly we find cities or people ready to collaborate, and deep inaccessible valleys refusing to make any compromise for decades or more. In northern Pisidia, for example, people from the local city of Prostanna (close to the Eğirdir lake) deposited on the Greek island of Delos a dedication to a Roman official of the province of Asia (to the father or grandfather of Mark Antony) as early as 113 BC, but close to this city, another one called Tymbriada was reluctant to accede to Roman domination, and had a lot of troubles at the time of Mark Antony, losing three important and valuable tracts of territory to the powerful inhabitants of Apollonia in Pisidia. We are informed of this thanks to an inscription found by the American epigraphist J.R.S. Sterrett at the end of the nineteenth century.

Last but not least, leaving to one side the epigraphic and literary sources, the coins struck by the Greek Hellenistic rulers and by the Roman colonies under the control of the central power, played an important role in the local economy. The eastern Roman colony of Pisidian Antioch (in fact in Phrygia Paroreios on the Pisidian border) diffused an enormous volume of bronze coins all over the region, thanks to its major hegemonic position as head of the Augustan colonial network in the southern Anatolian Taurus mountains, but also as caput viae of the Via Sebaste, the road which connected several regional colonies enabling the swift movement of Roman troops in the case of a Pisidian or Isaurian uprising. Of course the coinage of the other Hellenistic and Eastern Roman colonies has to be studied carefully for the role it played in the local economy, and also in terms of religious and political propaganda it displayed.

The crucial topic in Antiquity was the ownership of agricultural land, mentioned in the inscription cited above. One of the main concerns of local geopolitics was the central question of how was the agricultural land distributed to the Greek or Roman colonists after it had been seized from the native population? Most of time the local indigenous populations were pushed out towards the eschata: mountains in the case of the Phrygians and Pisidians, or the steppe lands of central Phrygia where Galatian tribes were displaced, or to the Syrian badiya in the case of certain Iturean Arab tribes. Were there land-surveyors among the colonists? This was regularly the case from Alexander and his bematistai onwards down to the Roman colonists and governors with their gromatici. We learn this on the one hand from inscriptions, and on the other hand from the Libri coloniarum. In those latter technical texts, we can find advice given to the Roman colonists on how to divide up the allotments given to veterans, and also ways to fix the boundaries between a Roman colony and another city belonging to a rural local community, or to a Greek polis for example. For instance it could be a local river, a road, a milestone or the crest of a mountainous range. It goes without saying that the opinion of the local natives is not taken into account.

The contacts between native people and colonists lead logically to a phenomenon called acculturation. Acculturation One of the few positive points to arise as a consequence of colonization is its effect on the local culture of the area, because such cultural contacts give the birth to new cultures, or at least to new cultural features. So we could ask several questions such as:

A connected theme which has to be studied is concerned with slaves, who were mainly present in order to work in the fields of the colonists. Do these slaves (and later freedmen under the Roman Empire) mainly come from elsewhere (enslaved as a result of war, trade or piracy), or were they captured in the area at the time of the

Did the language of the colonists overwhelm the local vernacular language or not, and in what way? Did it happen quickly or slowly? 3

Introduction Do we find bilingual families, and was it frequently the case, or not? When? Who?

can teach us a lot about how the communities regarded themselves.

What were the mutual influences between the native and the colonial languages? We are able to deduce these from the inscriptions thanks to a careful linguistic study based on lexicology and grammar.

What is the language of expression of the colonized communities? What are the naming practices, native or colonial, adopted visible in the inscriptions?

As concerns social structures, it might be worth evaluating the composition of the families living in the colonized area. Epitaphs can be highly useful in this field. Very often we can observe that the women use vernacular or indigenous personal names, and that they are regularly married to a Graeco-Roman colonist, as seems only logical. This is another kind of domination which completes the political submission. The names given to the children is an important consideration. The decision on whether to give them vernacular or colonial names could be linked to the social status of the mother, and so on the actual influence she had in the household.

Which cultural identities did they claim? In Phrygia Paroreios and Northern Pisidia, we can find native communities called Tymandeis or Pliennoi (Phrygians) on the territory of Apollonia, and one called Moulasseis probably on the territory of Tymbriada, but the colonists of Pisidian Apollonia and of Neapolis of Phrygia in the Killanian Plain, around the Beyşehir lake called themselves ‘Lycian and Thracian colonists’ on their civic coins and official inscriptions alike during the Roman imperial era, in Greek, but using the Roman word kolōn/kolonōn, and not katoikoi, although their presence in the area dates back to the 160s BC. In fact they were settled by one of the Attalid kings after the treaty of Apameia, precisely Eumenes II, in order to defend the inner part of Phrygia Paroreios, and its wealthy agricultural plains against the Galatians. Because they were later jealous of the reputation of the powerful Roman colonists settled by Augustus in Pisidian Antioch, they adopted the Roman word kolōn between the end of the first century and the third century AD.

Onomastics plays a central role in this study, because the choice of which personal names to give the children is a central cultural feature. Some personal names continue to be used over centuries and even millennia. They can be the only trace left by a local language centuries after its disappearance. To give a few quick examples, names like Ouanaxos survived until the third or fourth centuries AD in Asia Minor although their origin dates back to wanax, a word meaning king, found on Linear B tablets dating back to the second millennium BC. In Romania, we are still able to find thousands of Hadriani and above all thousands of Traiani, commemorating the conqueror of the Ancient Dacia. But onomastic studies are not so simple. Although a Jewish presence is detectable in the Graeco-Roman cultural milieu since the times of Alexander, most Jews took Greek names, so that we are not able to distinguish them in the inscriptions of Syrian or Pisidian Antioch. In this case onomastics inform us about the degree of Hellenization.

This peculiar period between the first and the third centuries AD witnessed an explosion of the cultural identities claimed by the communities of the Eastern Roman Empire in response to the cultural and political homogenization in progress over the longue durée. What were the reactions of the local communities when faced with the challenge posed by the dominant Graeco-Roman social strata? Generally we observe a complete assimilation, but sometimes there was cultural resistance, or a mixed situation. When there was a common assimilation, we can trace it in onomastics, religious cult, dress and social habits. Here the study of funerary monuments can teach us a lot, because these documents reflect everyday social conformity. During the second and third centuries AD, we are for the most part unable to distinguish between natives and others any more, except when we find typical indigenous names in the inscriptions.

The place and the role of the slaves among the colonial milieu give us clues as to the sociological situation, and this study allows a completion of the regional description including more traditionally an approach of the colonial and indigenous élites whose attitudes are responsible for a cultural fusion or not. Whatever the cultural blend resulting from colonization, we are more or less completely reliant on epigraphic documents to give us any clue of the cultural identity being expressed.

But we can find strong cultural resistance too. In this case, the subjugated populations expressed themselves through their native language and cults. In Phrygia Paroreios, the local Phrygian people accessed their written language again, and they continued to speak Phrygian at least until the sixth century AD. More incredibly the Pisidians, who were a Luwian speaking

Cultural identities The arrival of colonists naturally creates deep changes in the local culture, and then in the representations that social and political groups create about themselves. These representations must be analysed because they 4


people, whose language dated back at least to the Bronze Age, recovered their written language just before the disappearance of their own culture.

The last case in point is the mixed acculturation that we can meet in the so-called Indo-Greek kingdoms, showing a cultural fusion, or sometimes only a colonial culture with a local veneer. If the colonial presence was not reinforced by a stable State, and several waves of colonists, as was the case in Syrian Antioch or elsewhere, we can observe a fading of the colonial cultural elements, because the local culture remained strong, admitting few traces of the colonizing culture.

The local native cults changed their form over time. The famous Phrygian cult of Kybele was influenced by Ionian mystic practices during Roman times, because a lot of the immigrant colonists during the Hellenistic period came from Ionia. That is the reason why we find a cult of Gē Kataphugē, symbolizing the call of an underground shelter, in Northern Pisidia. I will show you tomorrow the importance of traditional clothing practices on unpublished Phrygian and Pisidian funerary monuments: dress being, of course, sociologically another refuge for cultural identity, in the case in question connecting Phrygian and Pisidian shepherds.

With these few words I have tried to mention few possible trails to follow, in order to take our discussion further. Anyway I wish you an excellent conference, thank you again for coming. Hadrien Bru, Edinburgh, June 26th, 2014.


Part 1

Territories and colonial settlements


Hellenistic colonization and local culture in Commagene and Northern Cyrrhestice *

Margherita Facella**

When dealing with a complex phenomenon such as the Hellenistic colonization of the Near East, and in particular marginal areas like Commagene and Cyrrhestice, it is inevitable to begin with a methodological preamble, or better, with an acknowledgment of awareness. Answering questions raised by modern scholars on this subject would require a volume of data which we do not have at our disposal. This is obviously a recurring and widespread problem for the ancient historian,1 but it becomes quite serious for areas which are hardly touched by Greek and Roman literary sources and which the archaeological research has only partially investigated. Before their inclusion within the Roman sphere of power, Commagene and Cyrrhestice, along with many other regions of the ancient Near East, were outside the field of view and interest of Greek and Latin authors. No mention of a conquest of Commagene by the Macedonians can be found in the extant literary sources and the few passing mentions of its absorption into the Seleucid empire2 tell us nothing on the phase of conquest and settlement. Equally silent are the sources on the Graeco-Macedonian occupation of Cyrrhestice, the region with which Commagene bordered on the south. Cyrrhus, the city that gave name to the entire region, is not mentioned in Appian’s list of the foundations by Seleucus Nikator (App. Syr. 57); it appears in our texts only in the first century AD, much later than the ethnic or the region’s name.3 The most tangible traces of a GraecoMacedonian colonization, preserved by the literary tradition, are the ancient toponyms of these regions, I am profoundly grateful to Zsolt Simon for his help with Luwian toponyms and to Alessandro Orengo for answering all my questions on Armenian linguistics. My gratitude also extends to Michael Blömer and Antonino Facella, who have read this work and provided comments on methodological issues approached here. ** Faculty Member, Universita degli Studi di Pisa (Italy). 1  On the paucity of documentary evidence on Hellenistic Syria, cf. F. Millar, The Problem of Hellenistic Syria, in A. Kuhrt and S. SherwinWhite, Hellenism in the East. The interaction of Greek and non-Greek civilizations from Syria to Central Asia after Alexander (London 1987): 11033; M. Sartre, Communautés villageoises et structures sociales d’après l’épigraphie de la Syrie du Sud, in A. Calbi, A. Donati and G. Poma (eds) L’epigrafia del villaggio (Faenza 1993): 117-35. 2  Above all Memnon (FGrHist 434, F 1 [18.5]), who calls Antiochus III ‘king of Syria, Commagene and Giudea’ or Diodorus (31.19a). 3  Cf. E. Honigmann, Kyrrhos, RE 12.1 (1924), col. 199; E. Frézouls, Cyrrhus et la Cyrrhestique jusqu’à la fin du Haut-Empire, ANRW II.8 : 178-82. *

an important, even if sometimes troublesome, body of evidence for us. A glance at the toponymy If we turn to the list of Commagenian cities recorded by Ptolemy (5,14.8 ed. Müller), the following are mentioned: Arake, Antioch on the Taurus, Singa, Germanicia, Katamana, Doliche, Deba, Chaonia; on the banks of the Euphrates: Cholmadara and Samosata. For Cyrrhestice he lists nineteen cities (Ptol. 5,14.10): Ariseria, Rhegia, Ruba, Herakleia, Niara, Hierapolis, Kyrrhos, Beroia, Batnai, Paphara; on the banks of the Euphrates Urima, Arulis, Zeugma, Europos, Kaikilia, Bethammaria, Gerrous, chronologically inconsistent, sources,4 hence the confusion that he sometimes makes in the geographical and political division of the regions. Zeugma, for example, is listed in Cyrrhestice, but not Chaonia and Deba, which were south of Zeugma. The first point to underline, and which has often attracted the attention of modern historians,5 is the high occurrence of toponyms drawn from Macedonia, Thessaly and Epirus: Doliche takes its name from the homonymous Thessalian city, Chaonia was a region of Epirus; Cyrrhus, Beroia and Europos derive their names from Macedonian cities. More complex is the question of Gerrhe (Ptol. 5.15.14), between Europos and Nikephorion. Karl Müller (Claudii Ptolemaei Geographia, Paris 1901: 971) suggested identifying Gerrhe of Ptolemy with Serrhe of the Tabula Peutingeriana (Seg. XI.2), while Victor Tcherikover (Hellenistischen Städtegründungen, Cf. in general A. Stückelberger, Zu den Quellen der Geographie, in A. Stückelberger and F. Mittenhuber, Klaudios Ptolemaios. Handbuch der Geographie, Ergänzungsband (Basel 2009): 122-133 and specifically for Syria E. Honigmann ‘Syria’, RE 4 A2, coll. 1636-45. 5  The bibliography is very extensive. Above all see A.H.M. Jones, The Cities of the Eastern Roman Provinces (Oxford 2nd edn 1971): 242-6; V. Tcherikover, Die hellenistischen Städtegründungen von Alexander dem Grossen bis auf die Römerzeit, Philologus Suppl. Bd. XIX.1 (Leipzig 1927): 54-8; E. Frézouls, La toponymie de l’Orient syrien et l’apport des elements macédoniens, in La toponymie antique. Actes du Colloque de Strasbourg 12-14 juin 1975 (Leiden 1977): 219-48; P. Briant, Colonisation hellénistique et populations indigènes I: la phase d’installation, Klio 60 (1978): 57-92; F. Millar, Hellenistic Syria: 114-6; J.D. Grainger, The Cities of Seleukid Syria (Oxford 1990): 39-46; A. Bousdroukis, Les noms des colonies séleucides au Proche-Orient, in La Syrie Hellénistique, Topoi Suppl. 4 (2003): 9-24; M. Sartre, D’Alexandre à Zénobie. Histoire du Levant antique, IVe siècle av. J.-C. – IIIe siècle ap. J.-C. (Paris 2001): 111-120; G.M. Cohen, The Hellenistic Settlements in Syria, the Red Sea Basin, and North Africa (Los Angeles/London 2006), especially 28-30. 4 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 7–17

Margherita Facella 55) believed that Gerrhe, Serrhe and Perrhe (Hierokles 713.6) were different names for the same place and that they all derived from the Macedonian Serrhai (so already K. Regling, Zur historischen Geographie des mesopotamischen Parallelogramms, Klio 1, 1901: 473, note 3). It is quite likely that Serrhe took its name from the town in Macedonia, but the rest of Tcherikover’s conclusions, as Cohen has remarked (Hellenistic Settlements, 196), is a long speculative chain. In particular the identification of Serrhe and Perrhe is, in my opinion, hardly convincing, since both cities are recorded in the same segment and section of the Tabula Peutingeriana (Seg. XI.2: Perrhe in the route from Samosata to Komana, Serrhe between Caeciliana and Eragiza). Tcherikover and Cohen do not mention the occurrence of the two toponyms in the Tabula, which I consider relevant. It is certainly worth mentioning that in the edition of the Geography by Alfred Stückelberger und Gerd Graßhoff (Klaudios Ptolemaios. Handbuch der Geographie, 2. Teil, Basel 2006, 566-7), Γέρρη of the codices is corrected into Σέρρη, following Müller’s suggestion, and the last one is not identified with Pirun (modern name of Perrhe), but with Qalaat es-Sandaliya.6 The name of Perrhe evokes the region of Perrhebia in Thessaly, where Doliche was also located, but we have no evidence to date of a Thessalian or Macedonian place called Perrhe.

For Frézouls the geographic distribution of these Macedonian toponyms is not casual: ‘Mais le groupement peut difficilement, en Syrie du Nord en tout cas, être aléatoire; il a dû résulter d’une politique concertée, où le choix des noms n’était pas laissé au hasard, mais exprimait la finalité militaire de l’ensemble.’ (Frézouls 1977: 246). The intention was to protect northern Syria by building two defensive lines, one along the Orontes and the other around the Euphrates; those responsible for this strategic system were the Seleucids, above all Seleucus Nikator. As we will see, new archaeological evidence seems to confirm the reconstruction of Frézouls and the importance of the strategic factor in the foundation of these settlements. The choice of a Greek or Macedonian name for a settlement seems to imply the presence of a group of European colonists from the homonymous city, or at least from that region, but rarely do ancient literary sources offer a confirmation of this assumption. The foundation of Larissa in Syria, which Diodorus (33.4a) explicitly attributes to a group of Thessalian settlers, is an exception and caution is necessary. Even more problematic is making deductions on cities of Commagene and Cyrrhestice with a dynastic name of Hellenistic origin. In the absence of archaeological data, which can cast light on the birth of a settlement, it is problematic to determine whether its dynastic name indicates a foundation ex novo or more simply a refoundation. The renaming of a pre-existing settlement was a very widespread phenomenon in the Hellenistic period (Billows 2003: 198) and many reasons could lie behind it: a constitutional or administrative change (for example, the grant of autonomy to a town) or more simply the recognition by a ruler of the importance of an urban centre above others. Jones’ criterium to distinguish a new foundation from a re-foundation is to look at the evolution of its name over the centuries and to ascertain if the Greek name was retained or dropped in favour of a ‘native’ name (Jones 1971: 243-5). The continuity in the use of a Greek toponym (for example Nicopolis, whose Greek name survived for long time and was called Niboli until the end of the nineteenth century) indicates for Jones a new foundation. There is no need to stress the weakness of such a criterium.

To the Cyrrhestic toponyms of Macedonian origin we can add Gindarus (Tell Ğindaris), which took its name from Genderos/Genderra in Macedonia. Ptolemy (5.14.11) places the city in Seleukis, but for Strabo (16.2,8) Gindarus belonged to Cyrrhestice. In his important survey of ancient Syria toponymy Edmond Frézouls recorded twelve cities in northern Syria (between the middle Euphrates and the middle Orontes), which derived their name from a Macedonian place (Frézouls 1977: 219-48). His list does not include Gindarus since the first real evidence that there was a settlement called Gindarus in Macedonia arrived only in 1971. A marble stele with a poorly preserved inscription of 54 lines was found at Aravissos, between Edessa and Pella (Vavritsas 1977: 7-11). In the text, which seems to concern road repairs and other maintenance works for the agora, the toponyms Genderros and Genderra occur. The block was reused to inscribe four dedications, one of which was to Athena Kyrrhestis, who Strabo says had a temple in Syria (Strabo 16, 2,8); on the left of this text Genderrios (in the genitive) has been interpreted as referring to an inhabitant of that place.7

If we now focus on Commagene, we can observe that here at least two cities bore dynastic names of Greek origin: two Antiochs are attested, one near the Taurus (Ptolemy 5.14.8) and the other near the Euphrates (Plin. Nat. hist. 5.86).8 The location of these cities is unknown; their name tell us only that they were foundations (or

Following Müller (loc. cit.) and Chapot 1907: 281-2; Dussaud (1927: 451) identified Serre with Qara-Menbidj ‘ou une ruine voisine’. As for Perrhe, the city has been sometimes identified with the city Persa, mentioned by Stephanus of Byzantium (s.v.): see, for example, Sturm 1937: cols. 909-910. 7  See Vavritsas, EΠIΓPAΦH, p. 10 and SEG 27 [1977]: 258. For L. Robert Genderrios is instead a patronymic (Bull. Ép. 91 [1978]: 288); cf. also Papazoglu 1988: 154. On the possible localization of Gindarus at Mandalon, see Hatzopoulos 1996: 112 (but cf. Chrysostomou 1990: 209, 222). 6 

The existence of Antioch on the Euphrates is attested also by coins (Butcher 2004: 466). 8 


Hellenistic colonization and local culture in Commagene and Northern Cyrrhestice

re-foundations) by a king called Antiochus, but whether he was a member of the Seleucid or Commagenian house (which also had a few kings of this name) cannot be determined. A Seleucid foundation was certainly the case for the important city of Zeugma, at the boundary between Commagene and Cyrrhestice. Zeugma was an alternative, more widespread, name to indicate the towns of Seleucia and/or Apameia, on opposite banks of the Euphrates (sources Kennedy (ed.) 1998: 139-162). The two settlements, which celebrated with their name the founder of the Seleucid dynasty and his Bactrian wife, controlled one of the most important crossing points of the river (Comfort, Abadie-Reynal and Ergeç 2000: 99-126).

For centuries descendents of Orontes (or alleged ones) ruled Armenia and the regions connected to this satrapy, as Sophene and Commagene.11 The presence of Armenian toponyms in Commagene would therefore be fully understandable. The research of Rüdiger Schmitt (1986: 445-459) shows, however, that we can be more precise. The ancient Armenian -šat (present also in the toponym Eruandašat) derives from Old Pers. šiyāta-, Middle Persian and Parthian šād ‘happy, joyful’.12 ‘In the case of place names in -apat, -kert, and -šat’ – writes Schmitt – ‘we have to do with settlements founded by the persons mentioned, mainly kings, so that the use of an Ir. rather than an Arm. name need cause no surprise’ (Schmitt 1986: 458). The toponyms in -šat are considered by Schmitt genuine Iranian compounds.13 From Xenophon we know that the father of Orontes, Artasyra, was from Bactria, hence there are no doubts that the Orontids, as their name suggest, had Iranian stem. An Iranian name is also that of Arsames (Old Pers. Aršāma-14), founder of Arsamosata in Sophene and of two cities called Arsameia in Commagene, respectively on the river Nymphaios and on the Euphrates (sources in Facella 2006: 174-179). I do not exclude that also the name Samos might be an Iranian one (Av. sāma- = ‘black’, MP personal name Sām15).

In Commagene, however, we find also dynastic toponyms dating back to the Hellenistic period, which do not derive from a Greek personal name. These placenames reflect other ethnic components of the region and deserve to be examined for a better understanding of the cultural background of the region. Samosata, the capital of the kingdom, owed its name to the ruler Samos, about whom we know nothing.9 Now, names such as Artaxata or Arsamosata have been explained by Joseph Marqwart as the Greek adaptation of an ancient Armenian compound (personal name + shat).10 Since šat means something like ‘joy, happiness’, Artaxata would mean ‘joy of Artaxias’ and Arsamosata ‘joy of Arsames’. Similarly, the name of Samosata could be explained as ‘joy of Samos’.

The placenames so far analysed are the product of two of the main ethnic components of Hellenistic Commagene: the Iranian group and the Graeco-Macedonian group. In the well-known hieros nomos of Nemrud Dağı, Antiochus defines the Persians and the Greeks ‘the two very fortunate roots’ of his ancestry (OGIS 383, ll. 3031). This Graeco-Persian duality is even more explicit when looking at the statue of the gods sunthronoi of Antiochus and at their composite names recorded in the inscriptions. Zeus Oromasdes, Artagnes-HeraklesAres, Apollo-Mithra-Helios-Hermes are the result of an artificial attempt to combine two different cultural and religious traditions. Through this studied syncretism Antiochus, apogonos of the Persian and Macedonian dynasties, wanted to display his legitimacy to rule and at the same time to ensure the support of all of his subjects, the Persian (or Persianized) and the Greek

Commagene was part of the Achaemenid empire and was probably included in the satrapy of Armenia (Weiskopf 1993: 54-57). In 401 Armenia was ruled by the satrap Orontes, mentioned by Xenophon (Anab. 2, 4.8; 3, 4.13; 3, 5.17; 4, 3.4), Plutarch (Artax. 27.7) and various other sources (Facella 2006: 95-135). Orontes appears among the ancestors of Antiochus I of Commagene in his well-known ‘tomb-sanctuary’ on Nemrud Dağı (Dörner and Young 1996: 261, 293-294). Here the king dedicated to his paternal and maternal ancestors two rows of stelai, bearing on the front a relief and on the back the name and patronymic of the honoured person. Despite that only a few of the stelai have survived, we can be sure that at the beginning of the maternal gallery was Alexander the Great, followed by the Seleucids (Dörner and Young 1996: 322-326), while the paternal gallery started with the Great King Darius and continued with the Achaemenids. The joining link between Antiochus and the Achaemenids was Orontes (Aroandes in Nemrud inscriptions), son-in-law of Artaxerxes II.

See, in particular, Hewsen 1984: 347-66. References to members of this influential dynasty can be found not only in classical sources, but also in Armenian sources, for example in Moses of Chorene and Agathangelos (Toumanoff 1959: 1-36). The ancient city of Eruandašat, situated at the juncture of the Akhurean and Araxes rivers, preserves in its name the memory of one of these sovereigns. 12  So, already, Hübschmann 1904: 406, s.v. *Aršamašat (‘Der Name war persisch = phl. *Aršāmašāt und bedeutete “Aršams-Freude”’) and 408, s.v. Artašat (‘Der Name ist zusammengesetzt aus der Pehleviform des Namens arm. Artašēs, gr. Artaxias + phl. šāt und bedeutet “Freude des Artaxias”’). 13  The influence of Iranian on Armenian toponymy is quite remarkable: see, in particular, Leroy 1961: 517-521. 14  Justi 1895: 29, s.v. See Schmitt 2011: 95, no. 52, and Tavernier 2007: 13, § 1.2.3 (with previous bibliography). Cf. also Zadok 2009: 86, no. 45a. 15  Cf. Mayrhofer 1977-1979: 74-5, no. 280; Gignoux 1986: no. 823; Tavernier 2007: 563-564. 11 

Samosata is mentioned for the first time by Strabo 14, 2.29. Since in this passage Strabo explicitly states that his information is drawn from Eratosthenes, who wrote around 245 BC, the foundation of Samosata cannot be ascribed to Samos, grandfather of Antiochus and king of Commagene around 130 BC, but must be traced back to a homonymous predecessor (so Honigmann 1924: coll. 982-983; cf. Facella 2006: 169-174). 10  Cf. Markwart 1905: 93 (Artaxata); Markwart 1966: 285 (Arsamosata). 9 


Margherita Facella (or Hellenized) ones (Jacobs 2000: 45). But the ethnic and cultural profile of Hellenistic Commagene must have been richer than the two-faced one described by Antiochus. As a matter of fact, Persians and Greeks constituted a social elite which was the fruit of a political conquest of the country; they imposed themselves on a local population the culture of whom is hard for us to reconstruct. Again, a few toponyms bear traces of the many-faceted cultural background on which Iranians and Greeks settled.

col. ii 10). Urrus has been identified with the late Bronze Age Uršu, located in the territory of Kizzuwatna, which at the time probably included the area later occupied by Kummuḫ.17 Hence the two conclusions of Blaylock: ‘the names listed could cover more than just the area we now understand as Unqi’ and ‘the second fragmentary text could be taken to support the location of Kulmadara on the Euphrates in Kummuḫ’ (Blaylock, Tille, 37). Whatever the case, we cannot exclude, without further investigation, that the Commagenian toponym Cholmadara has a Luwian origin. Zsolt Simon points out to me that the ending -ara could be a reflex of the widespread Luwian suffix -alla/ī- (pronounced with flap r) and that Kalma- is known as a constituting element in Hittite toponyms (cf. Kalma-zita- and Kalmija in Del Monte and Tischler 1978: s.vv.).18 A Hittite derivation might also be detected in the place-names Katamana (Katta- means ‘lower, below’ and is used in Hittite or Neo-Hittite toponyms, for example Kataonia or Katpatuka) and Deba (cf. Tapa, Tipuwa, in Del Monte and Tischler 1978: s.vv.). There are phonetic differences and suffixes which need to be explained, but a Hittite or Neo-Hittite etymology is quite likely for Simon.

Toponyms and ethnic substrata Commagene of Graeco-Roman times derives its name from Kummuh̬, the Neo-Hittite state centered in the area of the modern province of Adıyaman and with its capital (also called Kummuh̬) probably located at Samosata (Hawkins 2000: 330). Heirs of the collapsed Hittite empire, the so-called New-Hittite kingdoms, perpetuated and diffused some of the Hittite traditions, among which was the use of Hierogliphic Luwian. The name Kummuh̬ recalls that of Kummah̬a, the city of the cuneiform Hittite texts which lay further to the north-east than Kummuh̬ and is usually identified with modern Kemah, between Iliç and Erzincan (Del Monte and Tischler 1978: 220-221).

The favourable geographic position of the region later named Commagene, at the crossroad of important trade routes, has always made it particularly subjectable to various cultural influences. Probably as early as the mid third millennium BC the area had been penetrated by groups of Hurrians, which settled Upper Mesopotamia and North Syria and were later unified and politically controlled by the kings of Mitanni (Salvini 2000: 2567). Some Commagenian toponyms bear trace of this Hurrian presence: according to Astour (Continuité et changement, 130) the name of Ardoula, a village near Doliche mentioned in the tetrarchic inscription IGLS I 59, is an adaptation of Ardušša, a city mentioned in the so-called Išmeriga treaty (CTH 133).19 Similarly Tarsa of the Tabula Peutingeriana (Seg. XI.2; Tharse in It. Ant. 186.5), called formerly Turuş and now Kuyulu, has been identified by Astour (loc. cit.) with the Hurrian Terušša.20 Commagene and northern Cyrrhestice appear quite conservative in this linguistic attitude of preserving

The survival of a Hittite toponym is a remarkable phenomenon for Michael Astour (1977: 117-141), who has laid stress on the quick disappearance of Hittite place-names after the fall of the Neo-Hittite states and on the exception that Commagene embodies. Actually a Hittite identification has been suggested for Cholmadara, which, as we have seen, appears in Ptolemy’s list of Commagenian cities and in the Tabula Peutingeriana (XI.3) as Charmodara, not far from Samosata. Eduard Sachau (1897: 47) tentatively suggested that the Cholmadara of classical sources might correspond to the Hittite Kulmadara recorded in the Annals of Tiglath-Pileser III. This identification – accepted for example by M. Streck (1903: col. 296) – was based on a few fragmentary texts which have been reanalysed by Hayim Tadmor (1994: 4; summ. 5 col. ii 11),16 whose new restorations place Kulmadara in the kingdom of Pat(t)in, the Assyrian Unqi, which occupied the Amuq plain, hence much more southern than the supposed location of classic Cholmadara/Charmodara. A location of Charmodara at modern Tille, on the west bank of the Euphrates (province of Adıyaman) has been proposed by David French (1983: 71-101) and more recently by Stuart Blaylock (2009: 35-37). Laying stress on the fragmentary nature of the Neo-Assyrian texts where Kulmadara is recorded, Blaylock notes that the city appears next to Urrus in one of the inscriptions (Kalḫu list of cities: Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 43

Cf. Smith 1956: 35-43, 42. The identification of Urrus and Uršu, suggested by J. Lewy (1952: 290) is rejected by Bagg (1978: s.v. Urrus). On the geographic position of Uršu, most frequently placed by modern scholars in Commagene or Cyrrhestice, see Del Monte and Tischler 1978: s.v. Waršuwa (with previous bibliography). 18  The major problem is represented by the segment -da- which requires an explanation (Z. Simon, pers. comm.). 19  On IGLS I 59, cf. lately Bru 2011: 23. For the treaty between Arnuwanda and the men of Išmeriga cf. Kempinski and Košak 1970: 191-217; Weeks 2004: 65 n. 51. 20  For Terušša in Commagene, see Goetze 1953: 70. In the abovementioned list of cities from Kalḫu a city called Tiris[...] is recorded (see Tadmor and Yamada 2011: no. 43. col. ii, 14). The new restoration of Tadmor places Tiris[...] in the land of Unqi, so that it is difficult to equate it with the classical Tarsa/Tharse near the Euphrates. But see above Blaylock’s observations on Kulmadara and the other cities mentioned in this text. 17 

And now Tadmor and Yamada 2011: nos. 14. 4; 26.3 (Kalḫu Annals); 43 col. ii 11 (Kalḫu list of cities). Cf. also Bagg 1978: 142 s.v. Kulmadara and 267, s.v. Unqi (with previous bibliography). 16 


Hellenistic colonization and local culture in Commagene and Northern Cyrrhestice

toponyms, if we consider that already around 1350 Hurrian states of Northern Syria were conquered by the Hittite Suppiluliuma I and Mitanni was soon annexed by the Assyrians (see Novák 2013: 345-356).21

absence is understandable for Luwian: by the end of the eighth century Aramaic was actually the dominant language of most of the Neo-Hittite states (Bryce, World of the Neo-Hittite Kingdoms, 60-1); less so for Aramaic, which for a few centuries disappears from our written documentation, not re-emerging before the first century AD, in its eastern version that is Syriac. Interestingly the earliest dated Syriac inscription known to us comes from modern Birecik, near Zeugma (cf. H.J.W. Drijvers and J.F. Healey, The Old Syriac Inscriptions of Edessa & Osrhoene. Texts, Translations & Commentary, Leiden 1999, 140-4, no. As55 [D1]). For the earlier period epigraphic evidence on the use of Aramaic in these regions is confined to the legend of a few coins from HierapolisBambyke.23 More generally, we can say that during the Hellenistic period contemporary written evidence for a non-Greek culture is very scarce in our areas, not to say absent. Because of this lack, it is arduous to define the ‘local culture’ of Commagene and Cyrrhestice and consequently to answer questions such as the response of the local population to the Greek colonization or the interactions between Greek settlers and indigenous people. Only through more intense and systematic archaeological investigations can we hope to cast light on the various aspects of the Graeco-Macedonian conquest in these areas.

However, the most significant ethnic input during the Iron Age in our regions was the settlement of Aramean tribes (Sader 2014: 20-21). Besides the Neo-Hittite kingdoms, several Aramean states emerged, but the distinction between Neo-Hittite and Aramean states cannot always be so sharp, because of the relationships between these kingdoms and the dynastic overthrows experience by some of these lands. A number of NeoHittite states were ruled for a certain period by kings of Aramean names (for example Masuwari/Til Barsip) or vice-versa, kings with Anatolian names ruled states where the use of Aramaic language is attested (for example Sam’al, where a good number of inscriptions in a local archaic dialect of Aramaic have been found). For this reason some scholars prefer to use the term ‘Syro-hittite’ states, which more precisely reflects ‘the blending of Hittite and Aramean elements’ (Bryce 2012: 80). The impact of the Aramean settlement in northern and southern Syria was certainly strong, not only from a political and economic point of view, but also from a cultural one (cf. Sader 2014). Already in 1922, Enno Littmann (1922: 164) drew attention to the presence of Aramean toponyms in north Syria. In Commagene an Aramean derivation is possible for the name of the modern Maraş. In the Annals of Sargon II Marqas (also written Marḫas) is mentioned as the capital of the state Gurgum (sources in Bagg 1978: s.v. Marqasa). After the annexation, the capital gave name to the entire Assyrian province, as in the case of Kummuh; Gurgum and Maraş should be therefore considered as synonyms (Hawkins 1987-1990: 352-353). In the imperial period the city was renamed Γερμανίκεια, but the new name was later dropped in favour of the Aramaic one.22

The contribution of archaeology in recent years Archaeological research has massively improved our knowledge of Commagene and Cyrrhestice in the Hellenistic period. However, only a small part of these regions has been systematically surveyed or carefully excavated to date.24 As far as Commagene is concerned, the excavations conducted in the last century have focussed on sites linked to the dynasty which ruled the country in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, as well as on sites which were threatened by the inundation caused by the construction of various dams.25 None of the investigated sites, however, were settled by Graeco-Macedonian colonists, the only exception being Zeugma, which for most of its history belonged to Cyrrhestice, but was annexed to the Commagenian kingdom for a certain time (Cic. Ad Quint. fr. 2,10; Strabo 16.2.3; App. Mith. 114).26 However, at Zeugma

Neo-Hittite and Aramean cultures were certainly influential in Commagene and northern Cyrrhestice, so it is puzzling for us to find no epigraphic traces of these ethnic groups during the Hellenistic period. This The persistence of Hurrian toponyms and personal names in the area of southern Commagene and north Cyrrhestice (cf. the name of Ini-Teshup of Carchemish) supports the theory which wants to localise the place of origin of the Hurrians in the area stretching from east of the Tigris (north of Diyala) to the slopes of the Taurus (near Maraş): so Kuhrt 1995: 288. 22  Astour (1977: 131) was quite cautious on the name of Maraş, observing that it did not need to be necessarily Aramean (but he did not suggest any precise etymology). Actually we should not take for granted that a Semitic toponym, attested already in the Iron Age, is automatically of Aramean provenience, since an Amorite group was present in the region already in the third millennium. Most recently J. David Schloen and Amir Fink, members of the American team working at Zincirli (2009: 9-10), have rejected the widespread view which traces the foundation of the kingdom of Sam’al back to a certain Gabbar, leader of an Aramean group which was established there, suggesting instead that this Gabbar was ‘a local resident of Amorite heritage who threw off the Luwian yoke and restored his Semitic-speaking compatriots to a position of power’. 21 

Ronzevalle 1940: 3-82; Seyrig 1971: 11-21; Millar 1987: 125-126; Mildenberg 1999: 277-284. 24  These brief notes do not claim to cover systematically all northern Syrian sites which have produced new archaeological evidence from the Macedonian colonization, but only to draw attention on some results which appear to me particularly significant for their historical implications. As the title of this contribution states, my overview is restricted to the zone between Commagene and Cyrrhestice and leaves aside the area between Chalcidice and southern Cyrrhestice, noticeably Doura Europos, which would require a more extensive and complex analysis (on Doura Europos, see the overview of Leriche 2003: 171-191 and Yon 2003: 193-210). 25  For an overview, see Wagner 2012. 26  See above. For the inclusion of Zeugma in the Commagenian kingdom cf. also the reliefs published by Wagner (1976: 117-123) and the inscriptions published by Crowther and Facella (2003: 41-80); 23 


Margherita Facella the Hellenistic phase of the settlement is hard to grasp. In the area excavated by the French-Turkish team under the direction of Catherine Abadie-Reynal, the most ancient levels of the city (end of the third/first half of the second century) have only been identified in chantier 5; levels from the second half of the second century though survive in a few chantiers (5, 6, and 9).27 Similarly, no sealed deposit from early Hellenistic Zeugma was found during the Packard Humanities Institute (PHI) rescue excavations; the earliest datable ceramic material from closed deposits dates back to the third quarter of the second century BC, while earlier finds appear to be residual.28 The narrow area which has been excavated, the colluvium and the destruction caused by the foundation of Roman houses are all factors which must be taken into consideration to explain the lack of early Hellenistic evidence,29 as William Aylward notes. Nonetheless the editor of the PHI volumes invites a reversal of the current view which sees the predominance of Zeugma over Apamea at the time of the foundation (so for example Grainger, Cities, 51), while laying particular stress on the limited importance of Zeugma during the whole Hellenistic period: ‘No surprise’ – states Aylward – ‘that the excavations produced little information about the earliest years of the city after its foundation by Seleucus I Nicator. The archaeological evidence from Zeugma supports suspicions raised by Jones about the lasting value of Seleucid colonization of Syria’ (Aylward, loc. cit.).

qui vienne appuyer cette hypothèse.’ (AbadieReynal 2015: 825). A different picture emerges of Apamea on the opposite bank of the Euphrates. The surveys of Guillermo Algaze and the archaeological works by the team of Catherine Abadie Reynal have revealed a system of city walls over a length of 2,200 m, built of polygonal masonry and reinforced by 27 towers.30 The wall circuit surrounds a c. 40 ha settlement with a Hippodamian plan, reconstructed also with the help of geophysical techniques.31 The city had the primary function of controlling and protecting the river crossing, but already by the end of the second century had started to lose its importance, becoming in the Roman period a suburb of the flourishing Zeugma: this is clearly hinted at not only by literary and epigraphic sources, but also by the dearth of Roman archaeological material recorded by the excavators – ‘Tout d’abord, en ce qui concerne Apamée, la fin du IIe s. ou le tout début du Ier s. av. J.-C. correspond à l’époque où la ville aurait été abandonnée’.32 Unfortunately brief time for archaeological investigations and the complete loss of Apamea under water prevents us from answering more specific questions about the impact of the Graeco-Macedonian colonization on this area; maybe more can be said when the pottery from the excavation at Apamea will be published. Zeugma, on the other hand, has not been very generous with information concerning the early years of the settlement. We have therefore to wait until further fieldwork in the region provides us with new documentation. The recently started project of the Forschungsstelle Asia Minor (University of Münster) focussing on the excavations of Keber Tepe, the hill where the ancient Doliche lay, is therefore welcome.33

The careful evaluation of the whole archaeological documentation by Abadie-Reynal reveals that the picture of Hellenistic Zeugma drawn by Aylward is too restricted, and that a development of the urban complex took place between the second half of the second century and the first century (Abadie-Reynal 2015: 824). Distinctions are therefore necessary when describing a period covering three centuries. It is manifest, however, how little information we have on the early phase of the settlement:

A new foundation by Graeco-Macedonian colonists was most likely Gindarus. The excavations conducted by the University of Konstanz and the Museum of Damascus at Tell Ğindaris (1993-2001) have revealed a settlement hiatus between the early Iron Age and the early Hellenistic age, when archaeological evidence attests the presence of a Greek group (Kramer 2004, 263-5). Finds from the early Hellenistic period (end of the fourth-beginning of the third century) are not as numerous as those of the late Hellenistic period, but they are sufficient to prove a Seleucid foundation of a town smaller than cities like Cyrrhus and Beroia, but larger than the neighbouring villages. Unfortunately part of the site is still awaiting investigation, for example

‘Il semble certain que les niveaux du début de l’époque hellénistique sont très rares à Séleucie: ils doivent donc être d’étendue limitée et se concentrer probablement autour du point de passage de l’Euphrate et d’un lieu défensif haut, dominant ce franchissement. Cela dit, à l’heure actuelle nous ne disposons d’aucun niveau archéologique cohérent Ergeç and Yon 2012: 155-6, no. 3. On the annexation of Zeugma to the province of Syria, see Butcher 2009: 81-3. 27  Cf. the numerous preliminary reports, regularly published in Anatolia Antiqua since 1996. Five monographic works have appeared to date, three of them in the series Travaux de la Maison de l’Orient et de la Méditerranée-Jean Pouilloux. 28  Cf. the overview in Aylward 2013, vol. I: 1-54, in particular p. 9. 29  This lack concerns also the numismatic material published by Frascone (2013); and by Butcher (2013, vol. III: 1-92). Cf. the overview Butcher 2015: 860.

See, above all, Algaze 1989: 241-281; Algaze, Breuninger, Lightfoot and Rosenberg 1991: 175-240; Algaze, Breuninger and Knudstad 1994: 1-96. 31  Abadie-Reynal and Gaborit 2003: 149-69. 32  Cf. C. Abadie-Reynal 2003: 371, with previous bibliography. 33  Cf. 30 


Hellenistic colonization and local culture in Commagene and Northern Cyrrhestice

the western area, where the core of the Hellenistic settlement might have lay (Kramer 2004: 266, n. 23). On the basis of the examined material, Norbert Kramer comes to the conclusion that most of Gindarus’ settlers were Greek or Macedonian, possibly soldiers;34 a likely eventuality is that over time an indigenous component joined the original nucleus of the population, yet this is impossible to determine from the extant archaeological evidence. Influence of local traditions could not be detected on the material culture of the site, so that ‘in jedem Fall macht Gindaros ab frühester hellenistischer Zeit den Eindruck einer griechischen Siedlung und behält diesen auch bis zu seinem Ende in byzantinischer Zeit bei‘ (Kramer 2004: 266, n. 23).

that if at the beginning an integration of the indigenous population is very unlikely, over the time ‘la situation évolua et l’on vit de nombreux indigènes participer à la vie civique au fur et à mesure de leur hellénisation’ (Sartre 2001: 143). As is implicit, the relationship between colonists and local people could not be unidirectional and beside ‘hellenisation’ of the indigenous population, one expects that, with time, a certain absorption of local culture by the Graeco-Macedonian group occurs. But is it necessary to wait for the Roman period to see expressions of the mixed culture which developed in Commagene and Cyrrhestice, as well as in most of Syria, or do signs of it already surface in a later stage of the Hellenistic period? In search of hints which are potentially relevant in answering this question, we briefly turn back to the preliminary results from the excavations at Apamea on the Euphrates and to the archaeological finds from Gindarus; finally we will direct our attention to the new data from another crucial site, Jebel Khalid.

On a first glance, the scenario emerging from Gindarus seems to confirm the idea of Pierre Briant that in the initial phase the Greeks formed separate enclaves in the colonized area and were spatially and socially divided by the existing population (Briant 1982, to which I refer for sources and previous bibliography). The absorption of indigenous people in the civic community and their involvement in the political rule appears to Briant very restricted, not only at the beginning (as one logically expects), but also at a later stage:

The excavations of Apamea on the Euphrates have significantly improved our understanding of the urban plan and land division of Hellenistic foundations (Leriche and Gaborit 2003: 374-391). The abandonment of the site, at latest towards the end of the first century B.C., allows us to look at a ‘fossilised’ situation, undisturbed by later structural transformations (Leriche and Gaborit 2003: 381) or cultural evolutions. Yet, the published material does not offer any evidence in the direction of our enquiry.

‘Les documents actuellement disponibles ne permettent pas de considérer que les villes hellénistiques d’Orient sont passées progressivement (et encore moins rapidement) sous la domination d’une couche sociale ethniquement mixte […]. Cette constatation n’implique pas – évidemment – que les ‘élites indigènes’ ont été complètement laissées à l’écart de l’exercice du pouvoir: mais, la documentation actuellement disponible laisse supposer qu’elle ont tout au plus tenu un rôle d’appoint.’35

Slightly different is the situation at Tell Ğindaris. Kramer (2004: 355) lays stress on the totally Greek character of the finds of the early Hellenistic period, but a careful reading of his historical synthesis shows how hard and uncertain is the distinction between Greek and local ceramic production when it comes to coarse ware, i.e. where one usually expects to find an indigenous influence. The lack of reference works on this ceramic class of Hellenistic Syria, as well as the interruption in settlement continuity in the late Iron Age, made it hard for Kramer to draw secure conclusions: native models may have inspired the ‘drip-painted’ pottery, and possibly the use of mud bricks for construction can also be explained as an adoption of local traditions, but it is all very elusive (Kramer 2004: 265-267). At this point one wonders whether the absence of an indigenous influence on the material culture is actually real or is a product of our inability to spot it.

To conclude for the absence of a ‘nouvelle classe dominante mixte et intégrée’ actually means to strongly limit the degree of social and cultural fusion between Greek colonists and local population of the ‘Macédoine syrienne’. A less radical view is expressed by Briant in a later and more general article on the Hellenistic colonization in the Near East (1998: 309333): new epigraphic and archaeological material reveals that the interaction between Greeks and nonGreeks in Asia Minor and the Near East was much more complex than previously thought, so that the study of this topic undergoes a constant transformation. In a useful overview of Hellenistic colonization in Syria, Maurice Sartre comes to the well-grounded conclusion Kramer 2004: 268-270. Kramer is not aware of the inscription from Aravissos, published by Vavritsas in 1977, which speaks for the existence of a Macedonian settlement called Gindarus (see above). This epigraphic evidence overthrows his considerations on the non-Greek name of the city, while reinforces his hypothesis of a Macedonian nucleus of settlers. 35  Briant 1982: 97-98.

The most encouraging and stimulating results come from the excavations at Jebel Khalid, a Hellenistic settlement for which the ancient name is not yet known and which lies on a limestone plateau above the west bank of the Euphrates. Here, at the border between



Margherita Facella Turkey and Syria, a fortified town with acropolis, a housing insula and a necropolis have been uncovered and investigated by an Australian team since the middle 1980s.36 The results of the archaeological works reveal Jebel Khalid as: ‘a Greek foundation on a virgin site (no evidence whatsoever of an earlier occupation being found), a modest-sized settlement requiring perhaps a small garrison plus domestic quarters, a so-called “military colony” in all likelihood, guarding a river crossing point and regulating river traffic. Its life as a settlement seemed to have terminated with the end of the Greek period or very shortly thereafter, manifesting all the signs of systematic abandonment rather than destruction’ (Clarke 2002: ix).

that. The fact that the “colonists” were willing to eat food cooked in traditional cooking pots affords one hint that they, or at least some of them, may themselves have been “hybrids”, i.e. Hellenized Syrians who had perhaps intermarried and/or settled permanently, or were a second generation away from the original Greek colonists.’ (Jackson and Tidmarsh 2011: 518). The image we gain from the evidence of the pottery can only be partial, so that for a more reliable picture we need to wait for the analysis of other remains and finds. Already at this stage, however, it is impressive to observe how rapidly the community of Jebel Khalid evolved in its habits, merging Greek and local traditions.38

The structure of the fortification system, the imported pottery, the figurine and lamps and above all the coins suggest that we have here a Seleucid settlement, possibly due to the initiative of Seleucus I (Nixon 2002: 293-335). The site, abandoned in the early first century BC for reasons which we can only surmise, was not heavily disturbed by later occupation37 (in the central area a Roman encampment was built in the third century and the place was used as a retreat by Christian Syriac solitaries). This rare condition, which Jebel Khalid shares with Apamea on the Euphrates, provides insight into the life of the Greek settlers, most likely military colonists, and raises questions on their relationship with the indigenous population.

Interesting results also come from the excavations of 42 graves situated on the western slopes of the natural outcrops and on the valley (Littleton and Frohlich 2002: 49-69). Despite the poor conditions of most graves and the impoverishment of finds due to robbery, the excavators have identified some peculiarities in the burial customs, which are telling on the cultural development of the site. The construction of the graves is rougher and more hardworking than the simple one of Hellenistic cist graves in Syria; on the other hand, elements like basins and niches are typical of Hellenistic tombs. This suggests to the excavators ‘the overlay of a basic local grave tradition with Hellenistic refinements, or vice versa an elaborate Hellenistic form translated into a local type’ (Littleton and Frohlich 2002: 69). The pottery of the cemetery mainly dates back to the second century BC, providing a chronological indication for the Hellenistic burials (Jackson 2002: 101-124). It is quite poor in quality and the archaeologists suppose that a separate line of ceramic was manufactured for funerary use. A pure Greek style transpires from the Hellenistic pottery and Hellenistic traditions of libations for family ancestors have been recalled to explain the large quantity of broken vessels (Littleton and Frohlich 2002: 66-69). The presence of pumice in the tombs is intriguing, because this volcanic rock does not occur naturally in the area and is unusual as a grave find. The excavators think that pumice was imported to be used in burial rituals, but they do not add further details. Briefly, the results from the excavations in the cemetery,

Remarkably informative is the pottery from the Housing Insula, the most extensively excavated area, from which we get the best overview of the use of local and imported wares by the inhabitants (Jackson and Tidmarsh 2011). The evidence of the pottery speaks for a mixed community of Greeks and Syrians already in the first phase of the settlement (the so-called ‘Phase A’, which extends from the late third century to the first half of the second century BC). Beside imported tableware and locally made tableware, which is strongly influenced by Greek types, we find cooking pots, jugs and jars of traditional shapes dating back to the Iron age. The use of traditional forms for functional vessels and their limited variety reveals how the residents were affected by local habits in food preparation and consumption. ‘It would be easy to attribute the indigenous influence seen in the kitchen pottery to servants, recruited locally, and attribute the Greek influence seen in the tableware to the Greek colonists who were their masters. It is probably not as simple as

In a useful review of Jackson and Tidmarsh volume, Andrea Berlin wonders, among other things, whether the residents of Jebel Khalid were ‘colonists who moved from the Seleucid center or locals from nearby villages encouraged to relocate to a new settlement’ (http:// The latter possibility is, for me, more difficult to envisage: in an area quite distant from cultural and economic centres of Seleucid Syria, the first residents of Jebel Khalid, fond of Aegean wine and Greek fine tableware, appear too Hellenised to be ‘locals from nearby villages’. This is not an issue for Berlin: she rejects ethnic distinctions (‘Greek’ and ‘Syrian’) as a useful descriptive category and casts doubts on the historical reconstruction proposed by the excavators. In absence of further data Berlin’s legitimate questions and her alternative interpretation of the site remain speculative. 38 

See Clarke 2002, with reference to a numbers of previous articles and brief reports; Jackson 2006); Jackson and Tidmarsh 2011; Jackson 2014. For the identification of this site with Amphipolis, see Gawlikowski 1996: 128. 37  Doubts on the exclusively Hellenistic nature of the site have been advanced by Baird (2015: 877-881), but the counter arguments are not strong. 36 


Hellenistic colonization and local culture in Commagene and Northern Cyrrhestice

even though preliminary, confirm the overlay of Greek and local traditions which vividly emerges through the study of the pottery from the Housing Insula. In the good-graves ‘there is no sign of a separate indigenous culture’ (Jackson 2002: 123), an indication that cultural influences flowed in both directions.

Algaze, G., Breuninger, G. and Knudstad, J. 1994. The Tigris-Euphrates Archaeological Reconnaissance Project: Final Report of the Birecik and Carchemish Dam Survey Areas. Anatolica 20: 1-96. Astour, M. 1977. Continuité et changement dans la toponymie de la Syrie du nord, in La toponymie antique. Actes du Colloque de Strasbourg 12-14 juin 1975: 117-141. Leiden. Aylward, W. 2013. The Rescue Excavations at Zeugma in 2000, in W. Aylward (ed.) Excavations at Zeugma, conducted by Oxford Archaeology, vol. I: 1-54. Los Altos: Packard Humanities Institute. Bagg, A. 1978. Répertoire Géographique des Textes Cunéiformes, Bd. 7/1: Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, Teil 1: Die Levante. Wiesbaden. Baird, J.A. 2015. Jebel Khalid: counting sherds, or sherds that count? JRA 28: 877-881. Berlin, A. 2011. Review of H. Jackson and J. Tidmarsh, Jebel Khalid on the Euphrates, vol. 3: The Pottery (Sydney 2011), in Bryn Mawr Classical Review (http://bmcr. Billows, R. 2003. Cities, in A. Erskine (ed.) A Companion to the Hellenistic World: 196-215. Oxford-Melbourne. Blaylock, S. 2009. Tille Höyük 3.1. The Iron Age: Introduction, Stratification and Architecture. Ankara. Bousdroukis, A. 2003. Les noms des colonies séleucides au Proche-Orient, in La Syrie Hellénistique, Topoi, Suppl. 4: 9-24. Briant, P. 1978. Colonisation hellénistique et populations indigènes I: la phase d’installation. Klio 60: 57-92 (= Rois, tributs et paysans: études sur les formations tributaires du Moyen-Orient ancien: 227-262. Paris 1982). Briant, P. 1982. Colonisation hellénistique et populations indigènes II: Renforts grecs dans les cités hellénistiques d’Orient. Klio 64: 83-98 (= Rois, tributs et paysans: études sur les formations tributaires du Moyen-Orient ancien: 263-279. Paris 1982). Bru, H. 2011. Le pouvoir impérial dans les provinces syriennes: représentations et célébrations d’Auguste à Constantin (31 av. J.-C.-337 ap. J.-C.). Leiden-Boston. Bryce, T. 2012. The World of the Neo-Hittite Kingdoms. A Political and Military History. Oxford. Butcher, K. 2004. Coinage in Roman Syria: Northern Syria, 64 BC-AD 253. London. Butcher, K. 2009. The Euphrates Frontier and the Civic Era of Zeugma, in O. Tekin (ed.) Ancient History, Numismatics and Epigraphy in the Mediterranean World. Studies in memory of Clemens E. Bosch and Sabahat Atlan and in honour of Nezahat Baydur: 81-83. Istanbul. Butcher, K. 2013. Coins and hoards, in W. Aylward (ed.) Excavations at Zeugma, conducted by Oxford Archaeology, vol. III: 1-92. Los Altos: Packard Humanities Institute. Butcher, K. 2015. Coins from the French excavations at Zeugma, and a comparison with the PHI coins. JRA 28: 858-861.

The evidence from Jebel Khalid presents to us a Hellenistic foundation which in the space of a few generations developed into a culturally mixed community. The new pieces of information which we acquire from this site, as well as from Zeugma, Apamea on the Euphrates and Gindarus, help us to redefine the map of Hellenistic colonization in Commagene and Cyrrhestice and invite us to verify our working hypothesis on a case by case basis. Thanks to archaeological and epigraphical researches we have now a better understanding of a phenomenon which reshaped the cultural profile of these lands with a longlasting effect. Abbreviations AS = Anatolian Studies. CTH = E. Laroche, Catalogue des textes Hittites (Paris). IGLS = Inscriptions grecques et latines de la Syrie (Paris). IPNB = Iranisches Personennamenbuch (Wien). OGIS = W. Dittenberger, Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae (Leipzig 1903-1905). RE = Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft. RGTC = Répertoire Géographique des Textes Cunéiformes (Wiesbaden). WO = Die Welt des Orients. ZA = Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie. ZS = Zeitschrift für Semitistik und verwandte Gebiet. Bibliography Abadie-Reynal, C. 2003. L’urbanisme séleucide: L’exemple des sites d’Apamée de l’Euphrate et de Séleucie-Zeugma, in M.-T. Le Dinahet (ed.) L’Orient méditerranéen de la mort d’Alexandre au Ier siècle avant notre ère: 354-373. Nantes. Abadie-Reynal, C. 2015. Les fouilles de sauvetage de Zeugma: un bilan des résultats. JRA 28: 821-45. Abadie-Reynal, C. and Gaborit, J. 2003. Le développement urbain en Syrie du Nord: Étude des cas de Séleucie et Apamée de l’Euphrate, in La Syrie Hellénistique, Topoi, Suppl. 4: 149-169. Algaze, G. 1989. A New Frontier: First Results of the Tigris-Euphrates Archaeological Reconnaissance Project, 1988. JNES 48: 241-81. Algaze, G., Breuninger, R., Lightfoot, C. and Rosenberg, M. 1991. The Tigris-Euphrates Archaeological Reconnaissance Project: A Preliminary Report of the 1989–1990 Seasons. Anatolica 17: 175-240. 15

Margherita Facella Chapot, V. 1907. La frontière de l’Euphrate de Pompée à la conquête arabe. Paris. Chrysostomou, P. 1990. ‘H τοπογραφία της βόρειας Βοττιαίας’, in Μνήμη Δ. Λαζαρίδη: 205-238. Thessaloniki. Clarke, G.W. 2002. Jebel Khalid on the Euphrates, vol. 1: Report on Excavations 1986-1996. Mediterranean Archaeology Supplement 5. Sydney. Cohen, G.M. 2006. The Hellenistic Settlements in Syria, the Red Sea Basin, and North Africa. Los Angeles-London. Comfort, A., Abadie-Reynal, C. and Ergeç, R. 2000. Crossing the Euphrates in antiquity: Zeugma seen from space. AnatSt 50: 99-126. Crowther, C.V. and Facella, M. 2003. New Evidence for the Ruler Cult of Antiochus of Commagene from Zeugma, in G. Heedemann and E. Winter (eds) Neue Forschungen zur Religionsgeschichte Kleinasiens: 41-80. Bonn. Del Monte, G. and Tischler, J. 1978. Répertoire Géographique des Textes Cunéiformes, Bd. 6: Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der hethitischen Texte. Wiesbaden. Dörner, F.K. and Young, J.H. 1996. Sculpture and Inscription Catalogue, in D.H. Sanders (ed.) Nemrud Dağı. The Hierothesion of Antiochus I of Commagene: 254-377. Winona Lake. Drijvers, H.J.W. and Healey, J.F. 1999. The Old Syriac Inscriptions of Edessa & Osrhoene. Texts, Translations & Commentary. Leiden. Dussaud, R. 1927. Topographie historique de la Syrie antique et médiévale. Paris. Ergeç, R. and Yon, J.-B. 2012. Nouvelles Inscriptions, in C. Abadie-Reynal (ed.) Zeugma III. Fouilles de l’habitat (2) : la maison des Synaristôsai / Nouvelles inscriptions: 151-200. Lyon. Facella, M. 2006. La dinastia degli Orontidi nella Commagene ellenistico romana. Studi Ellenistici XVII. Pisa. Frascone, D. 2013. Zeugma IV: Les monnaies. TMO 63. Lyon. French, D. 1983. New research on the Euphrates frontier: supplementary notes 1 and 2, in S. Mitchell (ed.) Armies and Frontiers in Roman and Byzantine Anatolia: 71-101. Oxford. Frézouls, E. 1977. Cyrrhus et la Cyrrhestique jusqu’à la fin du Haut-Empire, in ANRW II.8: 164-97. Frézouls, E. 1977. La toponymie de l’Orient syrien et l’apport des elements macédoniens, in La toponymie antique. Actes du Colloque de Strasbourg 12-14 juin 1975. Leiden. Gawlikowski, M. 1996. Thapsacus and Zeugma, the crossing of the Euphrates in antiquity, Iraq 58: 12333. Gignoux, P. 1986. Iranisches Personennamenbuch, Bd. II: Mitteliranische Personenamen, fasz. 2: Noms propres Sassanides en Moyen-Perse épigraphique. Wien. Goetze, A. 1953. An Old Babylonian Itinerary. JCS 7: 5172. Grainger, J.D. 1990. The Cities of Seleukid Syria: 39-46. Oxford.

Hatzopoulos, M.B. 1996. Macedonian Institutions under the Kings. A historical and epigraphic Study, vol. I. Athens. Hawkins, J.D. 1987-1990. Maraş. RlA 7: 352-353. Hawkins, J.D. 2000. Corpus of Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions. Berlin. Hewsen, R.H. 1984. Introduction to Armenian historical geography III. The boundaries of Orontid Armenia. REArm 18: 347-66. Honigmann, E. 1924. Kommagene. RE, Suppl. I: coll. 978990. Honigmann, E. 1924. Kyrrhos. RE 12.1: coll. 199-204. Honigmann, E. 1932. Syria. RE 4 A2: coll. 1549-1727. Hübschmann, H. 1904. Die Altarmenischen Ortsnamen. Mit Beiträgen zur historischen Topographie Armeniens und einer Karte. Strassburg. Jackson, H. 2002. The Cemetery Pottery, 1996 and 1997, in G.W. Clarke (ed.) Jebel Khalid on the Euphrates, vol. 1: Report on Excavations 1986-1996: 101-124. Mediterranean Archaeology Supplement 5. Sydney. Jackson, H. 2006. Jebel Khalid on the Euphrates, vol. 2: The Terracotta Figurines. Mediterranean Archaeology Supplement 6. Sydney. Jackson, H. 2014. Jebel Khalid on the Euphrates, vol. 4: The Housing Insula. Meditarch Supplement 9. Sydney. Jackson, H. and Tidmarsh, J. 2011. Jebel Khalid on the Euphrates, vol. 3: The Pottery. Mediterranean Archaeology Supplement 7. Sydney. Jacobs, B. 2000. Die Religionspolitik des Antiochos I. von Kommagene, in J. Wagner (ed.) Gottkönige am Euphrat. Neue Ausgrabungen und Forschungen in Kommagene: 45-49. Sonderbände der Antiken Welt. Mainz am Rhein. Jones, A.H.M. 1971. The Cities of the Eastern Roman Provinces (2nd edn). Oxford. Justi, F. 1895. Iranisches Namenbuch. Marburg. Kempinski, A. and Košak, S. 1970. Der Ismeriga-Vertrag. WO? 5: 191-217. Kennedy, D. 1998. Ancient sources for Zeugma (SeleuciaApamea), in D. Kennedy (ed.) The Twin Towns of Zeugma on the Euphrates. Rescue Work and Historical Studies: 139-162. JRA Suppl. 27. Portsmouth, RI. Kramer, N. 2004. Gindaros, Geschichte und Archäologie einer Siedlung im nordwestlichen Syrien von hellenistischer bis in frühbyzantinische Zeit. Rahden. Kuhrt, A. 1995. The Ancient Near East c. 3000-330 BC, vol. I. London. Leriche, P. 2003. Europos-Doura Hellénistique, in La Syrie Hellénistique, Topoi, Suppl. 4: 171-191. Leriche, P. and Gaborit, J. 2003. La ville et son rôle dans la Syrie hellénistique. Quelque réflexions à la lumière de découvertes récentes, in M.-T. Le Dinahet (ed.) L’Orient méditerranéen de la mort d’Alexandre au Ier siècle avant notre ère: 374-391. Nantes. Leroy, M. 1961. Suffixes d’origine iranienne dans la toponymie arménienne. Studia Onomastica Monacensia 4: 517-521. München. Lewy, J. 1952. Studies in the historic geography of the Ancient Near East II: Old Assyrian Caravan Roads in 16

Hellenistic colonization and local culture in Commagene and Northern Cyrrhestice

the Valley of the Hābur and the Euphrates and in Northern Syria. OrNS 21: 265-292. Littleton, J. and Frohlich, B. 2002. Excavations of the cemetery – 1996 and 1997, in G.W. Clarke (ed.) Jebel Khalid on the Euphrates, vol. 1: Report on Excavations 1986-1996: 49-49. Mediterranean Archaeology Supplement 5. Sydney. Littmann, E. 1922. Zur Topographie der Antiochene und Apamene, ZS? 1: 163-95. Markwart, J. 1905. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte von Eran II: 1-258. Philologus Supplementband X/1. Markwart, J. 1966. La province de Parskahykʿ. ReArm n.s. III: 252-314. Mayrhofer, M. 1977-1979. Iranisches Personennamenbuch I: Die altiranischen Namen. Wien. Mildenberg, L. 1999. A Note on the coins of HierapolisBambyce, in M. Amandry and S. Hurter (eds) Travaux de numismatique grecque offerts à G. Le Rider: 277-284. London. Millar, F. 1987. The Problem of Hellenistic Syria, in A. Kuhrt and S. Sherwin-White Hellenism in the East. The interaction of Greek and non-Greek civilizations from Syria to Central Asia after Alexander: 110-33. London. Müller, K. 1901. Claudii Ptolemaei Geographia. Paris. Nixon, C.E.V. 2002. The Coins, in G.W. Clarke (ed.) Jebel Khalid on the Euphrates, vol. 1: Report on Excavations 1986-1996: 293-335. Mediterranean Archaeology Supplement 5. Sydney. Novák, M. 2013. Upper Mesopotamia in the Mitanni Period, in W. Orthmann, M. al-Maqdissi and P. Matthiae (eds) Archeologie et Histoire de la Syrie I: La Syrie de l’époque néolithique à l’âge du fer: 345-356. Wiesbaden. Papazoglu, F. 1988. Les villes de Macédoine à l’époque Romaine. BCH Suppl. XVI. Paris. Regling, K. 1901. Zur historischen Geographie des mesopotamischen Parallelogramms. Klio 1: 443-76. Ronzevalle, S. 1940. Les monnaies de la dynastie de ‘Abd-Hadad et les cultes de Hierapolis-Bambyce. MUSJ 23: 3-82. Sachau, E. 1897. Glossen zu den historischen Inschriften Assyrischer Königen. ZA? 12: 42-61. Sader, H. 2014. History, in H. Niehr (ed.) The Aramaeans in ancient Syria: 11-36. Leiden-Boston. Salvini, M. 2000. Le più antiche testimonianze dei Hurriti, prima della formazione del regno di Mitanni, in La civiltà dei Hurriti, PP 55: 25-67. Sartre, M. 1993. Communautés villageoises et structures sociales d’après l’épigraphie de la Syrie du Sud, in A. Calbi, A. Donati and G. Poma (eds) L’epigrafia del villaggio. Faenza. Sartre, M. 2001. D’Alexandre à Zénobie. Histoire du Levant antique, IVe siècle av. J.-C.- IIIe siècle ap. J.-C. Paris. Schloen, J.D. and Fink, A.S. 2009. New Excavations at Zincirli Höyük in Turkey (Ancient Sam’al) and the

Discovery of an Inscribed Mortuary Stele. BASOR 356: 1-13. Schmitt, R. 2011. Iranisches Personennamenbuch, Bd. V: Iranische Namen in Nebenüberlieferungen Indogermanischer Sprachen; fasz. 5A: Iranische Personennamen in der Griechischen Literatur vor Alexander D. Gr. Wien. Schmitt, R. 1986. Armenia and Iran IV. Iranian influences in Armenian language. Eir. II, fasc. 4-5: 445-459. Seyrig, H. 1971. Monnaies hellénistiques. XIX: Le monnayage de Hiérapolis de Syrie à l’époque d’Alexandre. RNum VIe série 13: 11-21. Smith, S. 1956. Ursu and Haššum. AS? 6: 35-43. Streck, M. 1903. Cholmadara’, in RE? Suppl. I: col. 296. Sturm, J. 1937. Πέρσα, in RE? 19.1: col. 909-10. Stückelberger, A. 2009. Zu den Quellen der Geographie, in A. Stückelberger and F. Mittenhuber Klaudios Ptolemaios. Handbuch der Geographie. Ergänzungsband. Basel. Stückelberger, A. and Graßhoff, G. 2006. Klaudios Ptolemaios. Handbuch der Geographie, 2. Teil. Basel. Tadmor, H. 1994. The Inscriptions of Tiglath-Pileser III King of Assyria. Jerusalem. Tadmor, H. and Yamada, S. 2011. The Royal Inscriptions of Tiglath-pileser III (744-727 BC) and Shalmaneser V (726722 BC), Kings of Assyria. Winona Lake. Tavernier, J. 2007. Iranica in the Achaemenid Period (ca. 550-330 B.C.). Leuven. Tcherikover, V. 1927. Die hellenistischen Städtegründungen von Alexander dem Grossen bis auf die Römerzeit. Philologus Suppl. Bd. XIX.1. Leipzig. Toumanoff, C. 1959. A note on the Orontids. Le Muséon 72: 1-36. Vavritsas, A.K. 1977. EΠIΓPAΦH EΞ APABHΣΣOY ΠEΛΛHΣ, in Ancient Macedonia II. Papers read at the second International symposium held in Thessaloniki, 1924 August 1973: 7-11. Thessaloniki. Wagner, J. 1976. Seleukeia am Euphrat/Zeugma. Wiesbaden. Wagner, J. 2012. Gottkönige am Euphrat. Neue Ausgrabungen und Forschungen in Kommagene (2nd enlarged edn). Mainz. Weeks, N. 2004. Admonition and Curse: The Ancient Near Eastern Treaty/Covenant Form as a Problem in InterCultural Relationships. London. Weiskopf, M. 1993. Commagene, in EIr VI: 54-57. Yon, J.-B. 2003. Les villes de Haute-Mésopotamie et de l’Euphrate à la fin de l’époque hellénistique, in La Syrie Hellénistique, Topoi, Suppl. 4: 193-210. Zadok, R. 2009. Iranisches Personennamenbuch, Bd. VII: Iranische Namen in Semitischen Nebenüberlieferungen; fasz. 1B: Iranische Personennamen in der Neu- und Spätbabylonischen Nebenüberlieferungen. Wien.


The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization and some remarks on Nikaia in Bithynia and Apollonia in Pisidia: the evidence from archaeological surveys and satellite remote sensing Giuseppe Scardozzi∗ Introduction This study is based mostly on the results of archaeological surveys performed in recent years as part of the research activities of the Italian Archaeological Mission at Hierapolis of Phrygia, in Denizli province (southwestern Turkey: Figure 1). The field surveys were carried out in the ancient territory of Hierapolis by researchers of the Laboratory of Ancient Topography, Archaeology and Remote Sensing of the Institute for Archaeological and Monumental Heritage of the National Research Council of Italy.1 The research, conducted in the years 2005-2008 and 2013, can be seen as contributing to the reconstruction of some aspects of Greek colonization during the Hellenistic age in this area, regarding in particular its organization and exploitation. Among the archaeological evidence documented in the territory of Hierapolis what is particularly notable is the regular land division that could be datable to the Hellenistic age itself. Thanks to the contribution of satellite remote sensing, a similar organization of countryside, perhaps of the same period, could also be documented in the territories of Nikaia in Bithynia and Apollonia in Pisidia. The contribution of archaeological surveys to the study of Greek colonization in the territory of Hierapolis The quantity of data acquired during the systematic archaeological surveys conducted in the territory of Hierapolis has allowed us to reconstruct the historical development of the territory of Hierapolis from prehistoric times to the Ottoman age. Most of the archaeological documentation regards the centuries between the Hellenistic age and the Byzantine period – when Hierapolis was flourishing (Scardozzi 2011: 111-146). It was founded by Seleucids during the 3rd Institute for Archaeological and Monumental Heritage of the National Research Council, Lecce, Italy ([email protected]). 1  Research in the territory of Hierapolis was made possible thanks to the constant support of Prof. Francesco D’Andria, Director of the Italian Archaeological Mission. Grateful thanks also to Prof. Maurice Byrne for his suggestions, and to Dr Laura Castrianni, Dr Giacomo Di Giacomo, Dr Immacolata Ditaranto, and Dr Ilaria Miccoli, my collaborators for the fieldwork and data processing. *

century BC and was an important city during the Roman Imperial period and the Early Byzantine age; it went into decline after the 7th century AD and was definitely abandoned in the 14th century, after the conquest of the Seljuk Turks.2 Hierapolis governed a large territory in southern Phrygia which included at least the northern sector of the Lycus valley (a tributary of the Maeander) and the Uzunpınar plateau, the latter located at a higher altitude (Figure 2). In these areas, the road network was studied and reconstructed, in particular in the Lycus valley, which was crossed by very important routes linking central Anatolia to the Aegean coast (Scardozzi 2012a: 739766). The aqueducts, which brought drinking water to Hierapolis, starting from the springs located along the edge of the Uzunpınar plateau, were discovered and reconstructed, and the quarries of some varieties of travertine, alabaster and white and grey marble were documented and characterized (Scardozzi 2012b: 109-143). Moreover, the research led to the discovery of new and very important data regarding the rural sanctuaries (Scardozzi 2013a: 69-88), and the economic activities of the territory, where many farms and villages – provided with installations for wine and olive oil production – were found (Scardozzi 2010: 277-302). Even though most of the documentation acquired during the archaeological surveys concerned the Roman Imperial and Byzantine periods, some interesting data was also gathered regarding the Hellenistic age. The evidence is fragmentary and often difficult to interpret, but important nevertheless. In particular, the remains of several villages of the chora, with their necropolises, were identified and documented. They are also characterized by little funerary tumuli of the Hellenistic age with the same dimensions and building characteristics of the tumuli in the necropolises surrounding the urban area of Hierapolis (Figure 3). Generally, they are found in some of the large funerary areas that include many graves, some chamosoria and sarcophagi, and little For the history and monuments of Hierapolis: D’Andria 2003; D’Andria and Caggia (eds) 2007; D’Andria et al. 2008; D’Andria et al. 2012; Scardozzi 2013d: 25-59. 2 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 18–34

The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization

Figure 1. DEM of western Turkey based on data from the Shuttle Radar Topography Mission (SRTM).

rough chamber tombs (Scardozzi in press: 579-589, pls. 274-289). Unfortunately, we have no epigraphic documentation linked to these tumuli, which are always in significant positions inside the necropolises. Hypothetically, we can assume that they belonged to the eminent Greek families that administered the local communities and adopted the same funerary forms of representation of the urban aristocracy of Hierapolis. Considering their distribution (Figure 2), they seem landmarks that represent, as it were, the control of the city within the territory.

of Hierapolis. In fact, the systematic study of the multitemporal satellite images available for this area let us identify the remains of a regular land division in the northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau, about 17 km north of Hierapolis (Figure 2), in the northern area of the territory administered by the city during the Roman Imperial period, and probably already in the Hellenistic age.3 From the field walking we are able to verify the evidence that is visible in the satellite documentation and note that the land division is based on orthogonal axes consisting of country roads, channels, and mostly in dry stone walls built using the material (irregular small stones) deriving from the cleaning of the fields, where the first substrate consists of a limestone bed.

The archaeological surveys and the integrated analysis of the remote sensing data (in particular from high-resolution satellite images from the 1960s and 1970s, and in recent years) have resulted in the discovery of a very interesting feature that could be ascribed to the same historic period and involving the occupation and exploitation of the territory

For land divisions in the territory of Hierapolis: Scardozzi 2013b: 875-882; 2014: 105-110. For the boundaries of the territory of Hierapolis and its epigraphic documentation: Ritti 2002: 41-70; Scardozzi 2011: 129-133. 3 


Giuseppe Scardozzi

Figure 2. DEM of the territory of Hierapolis based on data from Advanced Spaceborne Thermal Emission and Reflection Radiometer (ASTER): in white the ancient settlements (squares = cities; points = villages), the sites where funerary tumuli of the Hellenistic age where found (triangles), and the remains of orthogonal land division in the northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau; in black the modern settlements.

The regular land division in the northern sector of the territory of Hierapolis was unknown before the recent research and its discovery was possible only thanks to the integration of high-resolution satellite data and archaeological field surveys. In particular, only the analysis and interpretation of multitemporal satellite images allowed the identification of the axes of this land division surviving in the modern landscape, since the topographic maps are inaccurate and incomplete in terms of the field boundaries; aerial photographs of the area are also unavailable. Therefore, during the research, of particular use were not only the recent satellite images (acquired by QuickBird in 2005, 2006,

Figure 3. A funerary tumulus of the Hellenistic age from the territory of Hierapolis.


The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization

Figure 4. A Corona KH4A space photograph taken in 1968. Many axes of regular land division (indicated by arrows) surviving in the modern landscape are visible in the northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau, which at the time was snow covered.

Figure 5. The northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau in a QuickBird-2 image taken in 2007, in which the sites of ancient villages and the remains of axes of an ancient regular land division are highlighted: the thick lines indicate the main axes, while the thin lines show the internal subdivisions of the major land-plots.

2007 and 2010, and by Pléiades in 2013), but also the declassified space photos taken by US spy satellites in 1960s and 1970s (Figures 4-5).4 In particular, several images taken by satellites Corona KH-3, Corona KH4A and Hexagon KH-9 between 1961 and 1980 show a territory closer to its ancient appearance and less altered by modern transformations (agricultural works and urbanization). For this reason, we are able to detect in the space photos taken in the 1960s and 1970s some axes (Figure 6) that are now erased by recent mechanized agricultural activities andby the building of the modern village of Yeni Gözler, starting from the

end of 1970s, in the central sector of the area affected by the land division.5

The space photos were acquired from the United States Geological Survey (USGS), the QuickBird images are from GigitalGlobe, and the Pléiades image was examined in Google Earth.


The remains of these orthogonal axes concern all the northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau, which is at a lower altitude than the southern one and is the most fertile area, being today still characterized by relatively intense agricultural exploitation (Figure 7). The orientation of the land division (rotated some 11o degrees in an easterly direction) is strictly integrated to the morphology of the area, which is rather flat and sloping slightly towards the north-east, where the Yeni Gözler was built as consequence of the destruction of the village of Eski Gözler, located just north, following an earthquake in August 1976 (Ates and Bayülke 1982: 1635-1649).



Giuseppe Scardozzi

Figure 6. The central part of the northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau in a space photograph taken by satellite Hexagon KH-9 in 1980: the arrows indicate the main axes of an ancient regular land division that survive in the modern landscape.

Figure 7. DEM of the northern sector of the Uzunpınar plateau based on ASTER data, in which the remains of an ancient regular land division and the sites of ancient villages are georeferenced: the thick lines indicate the main axes, while the thin lines show the internal subdivisions of the major land-plots.

steep slope that descends to the course of the Maeander borders it.

And why do we have so few regular land divisions in Anatolia?

The identification of this regular land division presents us with two questions: what is its chronology?

Answering the first question is not easy. The remains of regular land division in the Uzunpınar plateau have 22

The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization

Figure 8. Land divisions of the territories of Hierapolis (A), Nikaia (B) and Apollonia (C): schematic representation of the major land-plots and their hypothetical internal subdivisions.

orientations unrelated to the modern organization of the field boundaries and country roads in the area; they seem unconnected to the location of the modern villages in this territory, the oldest sectors of which date back at least to the 18th and 19th centuries. Thus the regular land division is ancient, but how ancient? We may exclude the Ottoman period, when the area was inhabited by semi-nomadic Yürük tribes. We can probably also exclude the Byzantine era, when the central control of the area along the high course of the Maeander was already problematic, from the 7th century AD, and the central power has lost the region between the 12th and 13th centuries, when the nomadic Seljuk Turks conquered these territories (Arthur 2006: 16-30).

accepting the Attic foot of c. 30 cm in use at Hierapolis (Verzone 1977: 401-413; 1978: 392-396; D’Andria 2003: 33-41). The dimensions of these land-plots (c. 360 areal plethra) are not much different, for example, from those of the land divisions in the countryside of the Tauric Chersonesos (630 x 420 m, 300 areal plethra), dated to the 4th century BC (Wasowicz 1972: 200-205).6 On the Uzunpınar plateau, the major units of land-plots seem divided into a series of four equal rectangles of c. 330 x 240 m, equivalent to c. 11 x 8 linear plethra (Figure 8, A). This surface (c. 90 plethra = 67.5 schoinoi) is not much bigger than the plots of the regular land division reconstructed by Peter Thonemann in the territory of Magnesia on the Maeander, on the base of an inscription dated to the end of the 4th or beginning of the 3rd century BC (Thonemann 2011: 243-244). This land division seems characterized by 50-schoinoi plots, a dimension that is more similar to that of the minor units on the Uzunpınar plateau if we consider the possibility that within the territory of Magnesia the Doric foot of 32.8 cm was in use. Unfortunately, the territory of Magnesia was heavily changed by the alluviums of the Maeander and it is very difficult to detect possible traces of an ancient regular system of land-plots in the modern rural landscape.

For the chronology of the land division in the Uzunpınar plateau, it is important to consider two factors. The first is the strict correlation between the orthogonal axes and the rural villages between the Hellenistic and Early Byzantine periods, some of which also survived into Middle Byzantine times, but with a significant contraction of the settlement area. In fact, the archaeological surveys document a peripheral distribution of these ancient rural villages, the main ones in the sites named Boyallı, along the south-western boundaries of the area, and Thiounta-Fadılöreni, along the north-eastern limits. They are absent in the central part of the area (a band of territory with a surface area of some 4800 ha, extending roughly 12 km in an eastwest direction, and up to about 4 km north-south), which is characterized by regular land division and evidently intended for agricultural exploitation. In this area there seem to be only small ancient farms, mainly active during Hellenistic and Roman Imperial times.

According to the distribution of the rural settlements (villages and farms) and the adopted modulus of the land division discovered on the Uzunpınar plateau, it is possible to assume that this orthogonal system of landplots dates to the Hellenistic age. It can be related to the Greek colonization of the 3rd century BC, at the time of the Seleucid foundation of Hierapolis, probably under Antiochos I or II.7 We must consider other historical events, such as the Treaty of Apamea (188 BC), the For Greek land divisions of the late Classical period or the Hellenistic age, often based on a modulus of 36 or 50 plethra: Heimberg 1984: 283284. 7  In the past, some scholars have speculated an Attalid re-foundation of Hierapolis, but now this assumption is generally considered incorrect (Ritti 1985: 5-6; Cohen 1995: 305-307; Ritti 2002: 87-89; Ritti et al. 2007: 598-599). 6 

The second of the factors referenced above is the adopted modulus, which seems based on Greek measurement units. In fact, it is possible to reconstruct an orthogonal system of land-plots based on major units of c. 660 x 480  m, equivalent to about 22 x 16 linear plethra, 23

Giuseppe Scardozzi Roman conquest (133 BC) and the institution of the province of Asia (129 BC), or even other events during the 1st century BC, such as the Mithridatic Wars (which involved southern Phrygia in 92-85 BC), and the battles of Philippi (42 BC) and Actium (31 BC). However, none of these events seems to have involved the arriving of new colonists in the territory of Hierapolis, and even the literary sources do not document this type of occurrence. Therefore, we can exclude these events and suggest a chronology of the 3rd century BC for the orthogonal system of land-plots on the Uzunpınar plateau. In this area, the agricultural hinterland of Hierapolis, where, in general, many of the elements of the ancient landscape are preserved, the remains of ancient land division are also found, thanks to their characteristics (i.e. integration with the morphology of the territory and solid building techniques). However, we can assume that regular divisions of land-plots could also characterize other sectors of the territory of Hierapolis, in particular the fertile alluvial plain of the Lycus valley, near the city, because we know from the literary sources that it was characterized by intense agricultural exploitation.8 However, in this area the territory was heavily altered by alluvial debris, modern agricultural works, and transformations resulting from reclamation and the digging of channels, which have modified many plot boundaries. Analysis of multitemporal satellite images has helped identify some remains of regular land division, perhaps ancient, in the territory located 1.5 km west of Hierapolis: these lie along one of the most important roads descending from the city in direction of the Lycus river, but the chronology of these field boundaries is uncertain.

sensing data, archaeological field surveys, and literary and epigraphic sources (Scardozzi 2013c: 124-148).9 Thus it is likely that careful examination of the territories of Greek and Roman cities in Anatolia will provide other examples of regular ancient land divisions, with the added possibility of being able to compare different forms, moduli and solutions, even in a diachronic perspective. This is particularly the case for those territories where elements of ancient landscapes are still well preserved. Possible ancient land divisions in the territories of Nikaia and Apollonia Research on ancient land divisions in Anatolia is still at an initial stage, but there are already some interesting results that can also offer important suggestions for the study of Greek colonization during the Hellenistic age, and the level of exploitation of these territories during subsequent centuries. We may briefly consider two examples in other regions of western Anatolia: the territories of Nikaia in Bithynia, and Apollonia in Pisidia. In the case of Nikaia, modern-day Iznik (Bursa Province, north-western Turkey), despite the changes of the Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman periods, the urban layout of the modern town is still heavily influenced by the orthogonal structure deployed by Lysimachus in 301 BC, and minutely described by Strabo (Geographica XII, 565), who writes that Nikaia had the form of a square, with perpendicular road axes and two main streets that crossed in the centre of the town.10 At the ends of these streets, four gates opened into the city walls, which had a quadrangular perimeter of 16 stadia (c. 710 m for each side).11

The difficulty in proposing a date for the land divisions identified in the territory of Hierapolis results from the absence of inscriptions or literary sources documenting (or suggesting) this occurrence. However, it also results from the scarcity of comparisons in Anatolia. Now, we return to the second question posed above: Why do there seem to be so few regular land divisions in Anatolia, although literary sources and epigraphic documentation suggest (as in the already mentioned case of Magnesia) their existence? This situation is probably due to the frequent absence of some of the fundamental research tools, in particular large-scale maps providing complete representation of the territories (including field boundaries) and aerial photographs. Therefore, only the recent wide availability of high-resolution satellite images (also with the chance to use the space photos taken in the 1960s and 1970s that show many territories less transformed than today) has made it possible to develop this line of research with a more accurate and methodologically correct approach, thanks to the integration of remote

Analysis of the multitemporal, high-resolution satellite images taken between 1961 and 2013 show very clearly the remains of an orthogonal system of land division in the territory surrounding Nikaia (Figure 9).12 Many axes survive in the modern fields boundaries and country This type of methodological approach was applied to the study of ancient land divisions in the territories of Greek cities in the Tauric Chersonesos and Cimmerian Bosporos (Wasowicz 1972; Smekalova and Smekalov 2006: 207-248). 10  For Nikaia in the Hellenistic and Roman periods: Cohen 1995: 398400; Yalman 1996: 8-11; Bekker-Nielsen 2008: 49-56. For its territory: P. Guinea Diaz 1997. The pre-Hellenistic settlement was re-founded as Antigoneia by Antigonos Monophthalmos and then renamed Nikaia by Lysimachos for is wife, probably soon after he came into possession of the region after the battle of Ipsos (301 BC). 11  No remains of the Hellenistic city walls are preserved; they enclosed an area lower than that bounded by the currently preserved fortifications, about 4427 m long and built in Byzantine times, partly following the route of the walls made in the mid 3rd century AD. 12  For a more detailed discussion and description of this land division, see Scardozzi 2013b: 877, 882-885. The available data set includes space photos taken by satellites Corona KH-3, KH-4, KH-4A and Hexagon KH-9 between 1961 and 1980 (acquired from USGS), and recent images from WorldView-2 (in 2011 and 2012) and Pléiades (in 2013), examined in Google Earth. 9 

Strabo (Geographica, XIII, 4, 14) and Vitruvius (De architectura, VIII, 3) documented that the fertile alluvial plain of the Lycus featured vegetable gardens and cultivated fields. 8 


The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization

Figure 9. The territory of Iznik-Nikaia in a space photograph taken by satellite Hexagon KH-9 in 1979: the arrows indicate the main axes of an ancient regular land division that survive in the modern landscape and is based on the three ancient roads out of the city to the north (A), east (B) and south (C); the grey square replaces the hypothetical area of the Hellenistic town.

roads, and they are strictly linked to the Hellenistic structure of the town, being planned in relation to the suburban continuation (in north, east and south directions) of the two main city roads. The orthogonal system of land-plots covered all the fertile alluvial plain (c. 2600 h), on the western end of which Nikaia is located (Figure 10). The plain is bordered by mountains to the north and south, and by the shores of Lake Askania (Iznik Gölü) to the west.13 The land division seems based on rectangular major units of c. 660 x 540 m (equivalent to about 22 x 18 linear plethra), a little bigger than

the major units in the territory of Hierapolis.14 Many secondary axes are also visible within the major units (which have a surface of c. 404 areal plethra), suggesting an internal subdivision in six minor and equal units (Figure 8, B) of c. 220 x 270 m (about 67 areal plethra).15 The route of the Byzantine city walls, which partially follows the previous ones built in the 3rd century AD, It is interesting that the measurement of 660 m for one side of the rectangular units occurs in both the land divisions. 15  Six minor units are also documented in the land division of the Tauric Chersonesos; in this case, their surface is 50 areal plethra (Wasowicz 1972). It is important to highlight that the hypotheses based on the processing and interpretation of remote sensing data need to be verified on the ground. 14 

The plain has a triangular shape and is larger in the western sector, narrowing gradually eastward. 13 


Giuseppe Scardozzi

Figure 10. The territory of Nikaia in a DEM based on SRTM data, in which is georeferenced the regular system of land division visible in satellite images: the orthogonal axes preserved (thick lines) are distinguished from the hypothesized ones (thin dashed lines); the axes corresponding to the main roads out of the city to the north, east and south are indicated A, B and C.

appears subsequent to the axes of this land division, featured within the Hellenistic plan of Nikaia (Figure 11).16 Thus it is possible to ascribe this organization of the countryside to the initial period of the city and assume that it is was maintained, unaltered, over the centuries, based on its integration with the site’s morphology.17

Dağı mountain range, overlooking modern Uluborlu, which was built starting from the 1950s in the plain below (Buckler et al. 1933: xiii-xiv, 45-81; Robert 1963: 356-360; von Aulock 1979: 20-23, 52-63; Belke and Mersich 1990: 387-388; Cohen 1995: 285-290; Labarre et al. 2012: nos. 1-21).19 In the western sector, the hill is less high and has less steep slopes, while in the eastern part (a kind of ‘acropolis’) it is higher and characterized by very steep rocky slopes (Figure 13).20 Along the western edge of the ‘acropolis’ (Kaleiçi), the impressive structures of the Byzantine city walls are preserved for a length of c. 200 m, and up to 6 m in height (Figure 13, no. 2; Figure 14, A-B). Along this stretch of the fortifications (which protected the side less well equipped with natural defenses) there are three towers (two quadrangular and one pentagonal) and two gates.21 On its south side the hill is cut off from the Kapı Dağı by a deep gorge, down which a narrow stream rushes eastwards; the gorge is crossed by a bridge of the so-called ‘Cirimbolu aqueduct’ (c. 20 m high: Figure 13, no. 3, and Figure 14, C) built in the 19th

Even for Apollonia in Pisidia, located near the modern town of Uluborlu (Isparta Province, central Turkey), the study and interpretation of multitemporal highresolution satellite images, taken between 1961 and 2013, enable us to reconstruct an orthogonal system of land division that survives in the modern rural landscape (Figure 12) (Scardozzi 2013b: 139-140).18 Apollonia, the Byzantine Sozopolis, was situated on a high hill projecting north-westwards from the Kapı The preserved city walls represent one of the main monuments of the city. They were reinforced several times between the 11th and 14th centuries, first when Nikaia was involved in the wars between the Byzantines and Seljuk Turks, and again after becoming the capital of the so-called ‘Empire of Nikaia’ (1204-1261); it was finally taken by the Ottoman Turks (1331). 17  The land division is based on north-south and east-west axes; it is slightly rotated (3o) eastwards, according to the general orientation of gradient and the direction of the main water channels. In general, the countryside near Nikaia appears quite well preserved and not altered by alluviums or anthropic transformations. 18  The available data set includes space photos taken by satellites Corona KH-3, KH-4, KH-4A, Gambit KH-7 and Hexagon KH-9 between 1961 and 1976 (acquired from USGS), and recent images from QuickBird (2006 and 2010), WorldView-2 (2012) and Pléiades (2013), examined in Google Earth. 16 

See also, Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua XI Online (http://mama. nos. 1-21. Some scholars suggest that Apollonia was an Attalid foundation named in honour of Apollonis, the mother of Eumenes II. According to other scholars it was founded by Seleucids, probably by one successor of Seleukos I (perhaps Antiochos I or II), who came into possession of this region after defeating Lysimachos at Kouroupedion in 281 BC. 20  The top of this sector of the hill is higher in its northern part and descends to the south with large steps. 21  A good deal of the architectonic materials and many inscriptions of the Roman period were reused in the city walls. 19 


The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization

Figure 11. A detail from a space photograph taken in 1963 by satellite Corona KH-4 covering Iznik-Nikaia and the territory immediately around it: the large arrows indicate the main axes of an ancient regular land division that survive in the modern landscape, while the small ones indicate the Byzantine city walls. In the early 1960s the urban area was a little wider than the Hellenistic city (highlighted in grey), and had not yet reached the circuit of fortifications.

century – probably reusing and restoring an ancient structure – to bring water from the Kavil spring from Kapı Dağı to the top of the hill.

in this period the settlement was smaller than it had been in the previous centuries (c. 8.5 h), and was limited to the best defensible sector of the hill.23

Until the mid 20th century, Uluborlu occupied the entire hill and its northwestern slope (as documented also by old photographs) (Buckler et al. 1933: xiii-xiv, pls. 5-7), extending over a surface of c. 30 h, which probably corresponds to the area where Apollonia was during the Hellenistic age and the Roman Imperial period.22 Byzantine Sozopolis (a name that occurred for the first time in 381 AD) occupied the ‘acropolis’, and therefore

The hill of Apollonia-Sozopolis is at the south-western end of a narrow plain that stretches to the north-east towards Lake Eğirdir and is bounded on the north (Karakuş Dağ) and south (Barla Dağı) by mountain ranges. The city occupied a strategic site that controlled the area and also the road between Apamea-Kelainai The fortified town of Sozopolis, seat of a bishop at least from the last quarter of 4th century AD, was involved in the wars between the Byzantines and Seljuk Turks, in particular during the 12th century; it was finally conquered and sacked by Sultan Qılığ Arslan II (1180). 23 

A good deal of the architectonic materials and many inscriptions were reused in the old town of Uluborlu. 22 


Giuseppe Scardozzi

Figure 12. The plain of Uluborlu and the site of Apollonia in Pisidia in a space photograph taken by satellite Gambit KH-7 in 1967: the arrows indicate the main axes of a regular land division that survive in the modern landscape.

and Antioch in Pisidia,24 a section of the very important route which, at least since the Persian age, connected central Anatolia to the Aegean coast.25 The remains of

orthogonal axes of a possible ancient land division are visible exactly in the sector of this fertile plain nearest to the hill of Apollonia-Sozopolis, between Uluborlu and the modern villages of Senirkent, Küçükkabaca and Uluğbey (Figures 12 and 15); these axes consist of country roads, field boundaries and channels, which preserve in the landscape a regular division of plots that seems to be previous to the modern layout and organization of the territory.26 It is possible to

The road from Apamea-Kelainai crossed the pass of Çapalı (Christol and Drew-Bear 1987: 13-19), c. 14 km west of ApolloniaSozopolis. From Çapalı itself, and in particular from the modern villages in the plain between Uluborlu and Lake Eğirdir, come numerous milestones of the Roman Imperial period, in which Apollonia was surely, or very probably, indicated as caput viae (French 2012: 35-39, 141-155, nos. 16A-C (Çapalı), 86 (Uluborlu), 87AB (Yassıören), 88A-E (Esendere-Büyükkabaca), 89 (‘Sarıyar’, west of Gençalı), 90A-H (Gençalı). See also Özsait et al. 2011: 271-272, no. 12 (Küçükkabaca). 25  The city also controlled a way across the western sector of the mountains of Barla Dağı, directed southwards from the plain of Uluborlu to the plain of Isparta; it was a secondary route, an 24 

alternative to the main road that from Apamea-Kelainai was directed to Sagalassos and the cities of Pamphylia, across the pass of Keçiborlu. 26  The sector of the plain, where the remains of a regular land division are visible, extends c. 9 km in a SW-NE direction, and is c. 3-4 km wide.


The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization

Figure 13. A detail of a Gambit KH-7 space photograph (1967) covering the site of Apollonia-Sozopolis: A) the ‘acropolis’ (Kaleiçi), with the clearly visible ruins of the modern Greek quarter built on the remains of the ancient city and abandoned in 1924; B) the remains of the structures of old Uluborlu, abandoned from the 1950s (today these areas are completely deserted); 1) the circular tower on the north-eastern edge of Kaleiçi; 2) the Byzantine city walls along the western edge of Kaleiçi; 3) the bridge of the Cirimbolu aqueduct.

reconstruct a system based on rectangular major units of plots that measured c. 660 x 420 m, which also in this case correspond to Greek measurement units (22 x 14 linear plethra). It is of interest also that the measurement of 660 m is found as well in the major units of plots in Hierapolis and Nikaia, while the measurement of 420 m is also encountered in plots of the Tauric Chersonesos (see above).27 The

orientation of this regular land division (rotated 31o to the west) adapts to the morphology of the territory and the flows of surface water that converge towards the centre of the valley, where a small river – the Uluborlu Çayı28 – runs, SW to NE, in the direction of Lake Eğirdir, following the slight, but 210 x 220 m (c. 52 areal plethra). Even here, hypotheses based on the processing and interpretation of remote sensing data need to be verified on the ground. 28  The Uluborlu Çayı is generally identified with the Hippophoras river, which is represented on some coins of Apollonia.

Many secondary axes are visible within the major units (which have a surface of c. 314 areal plethra) and they allow us to suppose an internal subdivision of six equal minor units (Fig. 8, C) of about 27 


Giuseppe Scardozzi

Figure 14. A) a view of the Byzantine city walls from the west (1 and 4 = rectangular towers; 2 and 5 = gates; 3 = pentagonal tower); B) a detail of the fortification and the pentagonal tower; C) the bridge of the Cirimbolu aqueduct in the deep gorge to the south of the hill (view from the north-east).

Figure 15. The territory of Apollonia in a DEM based on SRTM data, in which is georeferenced a regular system of land division visible in satellite images: the orthogonal axes preserved (thick lines) are distinguished from the hypothesized ones (thin dashed lines).


The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization

Figure 16. Indigenous gods of the territory of Hierapolis adopted in the Greek pantheon and assimilated to Hellenic deities: A) the top of a stele where are represented (down) Artemis between Men on horse (left) and probably Apollo Karios on horseback (right), and (up) Zeus characterized by a woolen garment worn under the himation, probably Bozios (from Ritti et al. 2008: no. 44); B and D, two steles with Zeus characterized by a woolen garment worn under the himation, probably Bozios (from Ritti et al. 2008: nos. 54 and 32); C, stele with Apollo Karios on horseback and Cybele seated on a throne (from Ceylan and Ritti 1997: tav. 15); E, stele with Apollo Lairbenos on horse (from Ritti et al. 2000: tav. 1, D13).

constant, slope of the ground.29 In terms of landunit dimension, it is important to bear in mind that differences in the measurements of the land-plots in different territories can be linked to several factors, e.g. differences in the size of assignments or the necessity to integrate divisions with the morphology of the land. At the present state of the research, and lacking other elements, we can also only tentatively ascribe an Hellenistic date to this regular system of land-plots, i.e. when the territory was assigned to the Greek colonists who founded Apollonia. The question needs to be examined in depth, also considering the possibility that Lycians and Thracians colonists, mentioned by the epigraphic and numismatic documentation of the Roman Imperial period, could

have settled in Apollonia during the Hellenistic age (Cohen 1995: 285, 287-289).30 Final remarks and research perspectives Although further research is needed, it is possible to make some final remarks about the data presented above. If a chronology of the 3rd century BC for the land division on the Uzunpınar plateau is correct, it constitutes an important factor in terms of our understanding of the organization (and agricultural exploitation) of the territory of Hierapolis after Greek colonization and its control by the city. This theme is strictly related to the correct interpretation of other elements, such as the already mentioned presence of isolated Hellenistic tumuli in the necropolises of the rural villages of the chora; in fact, as we have said, these aristocratic tombs seem distributed in the territory like

Its adaptation to the geomorphological and hydrogeological characteristics of the area, not affected by strong transformations brought about by human activities or by the stream running through it, has resulted in the preservation of the current agricultural landscape of this land division. It is only possible to see that its axes are less well preserved in the western sector of the territory, near the modern town of Uluborlu, which has expanded over recent decades. 29 

There is also very interesting possible presence of Roman colonists in the territory of Apollonia (following allocations to veterans by Augustus in 25 BC and involving the nearby territory of Antioch (Bru 2009: 280-281)). 30 


Giuseppe Scardozzi landmarks. Further research will deepen our knowledge of this and other questions and problems linked to the understanding of relationships between GreekMacedonian colonists and indigenous peoples, such as, for example, the requisition of lands by the Seleucids. To this day, the rich epigraphic documentation of the Roman Imperial age found in the villages and sanctuaries of the Uzunpınar plateau shows, in the onomastic, the coexistence of Greek names, which are prevalent, and indigenous names, anyway frequent (Ritti 2002: 47-51, 54-57; Ritti et al. 2000: 49-50).31 The integration of new colonists and local peoples is evident, for example, in the religion, where there is a clear assimilation of previous indigenous cults in the Greek pantheon: such is the case, for example, for Karios/Kareios and Lairbenos assimilated to Apollo, and Bozios, assimilated to Zeus, who are gods worshipped both in the sanctuaries of the city and in the sacred areas across the territory (Figure 16) (Ceylan and Ritti 1997: 57-67; Ritti et al. 2008: 98, 118-124, 140, nos. 32, 41-44, 54; Miranda et al. 2012: 687-737; Scardozzi 2013a: 69-88). Moreover, some other Phrygian cults, such as those of Men and Cybele, were to continue, even into Hellenistic and Roman times.32

intensive exploitation of the countryside and changes to its organization after the arrival of the GreekMacedonian colonists. It is important to study this new arrangement of the landscape in conjunction with the data coming from recent palaeobotanical research, which documents, for example, a diffusion of olive cultivation starting from the Hellenistic age (Fiorentino n/d), when even the archaeological evidence shows the presence of installations for olive oil production in the territory of Hierapolis (Scardozzi 2010). Bibliography Arthur, P. 2006. Hierapolis (Pamukkale) Bizantina e Turca. Guida archeologica: 16-30. Istanbul: Ege Yayınları. Ates, R.C. and Bayülke, N. 1982. The 19 August 1976 Denizli, Turkey, earthquake: evaluation of the strong accelerograph record. Bulletin of the Seismological Society of America 72: 1635-1649. Bekker-Nielsen, T. 2008. Urban Life and Local Politics in Roman Bithynia; the small world of Dion Chrysostomos: 49-56. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press. Belke, K. and Mersich, N. 1990. Tabula Imperii Byzantini 7. Phrygien und Pisidien: 387-388. Vienna: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Bru, H. 2009. L’origine des colons romains d’Antioche de Pisidie, in H. Bru, F. Kirbihler and S. Lebreton (eds) L’Asie Mineure dans l’Antiquité: échanges, populations et territoires: 280-281. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes. Buckler, W.H., Calder, W.M. and Guthrie, W.K.C. 1933. Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua IV. Monuments and Documents from Eastern Asia and Western Galatia: xiii-xiv, 45-81. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Ceylan, A. and Ritti, T. 1997. A New Dedication to Apollo Kareios. Epigraphica Anatolica 28: 57-67. Christol, M. and Drew-Bear, T. 1987. Un castellum romain près d’Apamée de Phrygie: 13-19. Wien: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Cohen, G.M. 1995. The Hellenistic Settlements in Europe, the Islands, and Asia Minor: 305-307. Berkeley-Los Angeles-London: University of California Press. D’Andria, F. 2003. Hierapolis di Frigia (Pamukkale). Guida archeologica. Istanbul: Ege Yayınları. D’Andria, F. 2013. Il Ploutonion a Hierapolis di Frigia. Istanbuler Mitteilungen 63: 157-217. D’Andria, F. and Caggia, M.P. (eds) 2007. Hierapolis di Frigia, I. Le attività delle campagne di scavo e restauro 2001-2003. Istanbul: Ege Yayınları. D’Andria, F., Caggia, M.P. and Ismaelli, T. (eds) 2012. Hierapolis di Frigia, V. Le attività delle campagne di scavo e restauro 2004-2006. Istanbul: Ege Yayınları. D’Andria, F., Scardozzi, G. and Spanò, A. (eds) 2008. Atlante di Hierapolis di Frigia. Istanbul: Ege Yayınları. Fiorentino, G. (n/d) Palaeo-vegetational reconstructions in the Lycos Valley by archaeobotanical analyses at Hierapolis. Unpublished presentation at the

Additionally, the onomastic documented in the inscriptions shows very few Italics in the territory of Hierapolis (Miranda et al. 2012: 707), whereas they are numerous in the city, where the Rhomaìs phylé is also documented.33 The Roman conquest did not involve the arrival of new colonists, and the Greek system of land division seems to have been preserved by the Romans in the Late Hellenistic and Imperial periods. It is possible that this situation occurred also in the territories of other Greek cities in Anatolia, where centuriationes are so far unknown, and it seems that Romans maintained the previous systems of organization of the agricultural landscape, seems to be the case with Nikaia, and perhaps Apollonia as well. The examples from the territories of the last two cities indicate that the case of Hierapolis cannot be exceptional, and systematic research in the territories of the Greek colonies in Anatolia could produce interesting results and add new elements to our knowledge of the organization of these areas during the Hellenistic age (and their transformations in the Roman Imperial and Byzantine periods). Lastly, the identification of regular land division in the territory administered by Hierapolis could document an Unfortunately, there are no Hellenistic inscriptions known from the territory of Hierapolis. 32  Furthermore, in addition to the territory, the cult of Cybele was also preserved in the cave of the Ploutonion, in the central sector of Hierapolis (D’Andria 2013: 157-217), very close to the sanctuary where Apollo Archegetes-Pythios (city patron and protector of the Seleucids) and Apollo Kareios (the indigenous Karios assimilated to Apollo) were worshipped together. 33  The Rhomaìs phylé is mentioned in inscriptions of the Roman Imperial age on seats of the two theatres of Hierapolis: Ritti 1985: 118122; Scardozzi 2012c: 232. 31 


The territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia after the Greek colonization

European Association of Archaeologist 20th Annual Meeting (10-14 September 2014, Istanbul). French, D.H. 2012. Roman Roads and Milestones of Asia Minor. Vol. 3: Milestones. Fasc. 3.2: Galatia: 35-39, 141155. Electronic Monograph 2. London: British Institute at Ankara. Guinea Diaz, P. 1997. Nicea: ciudad y territorio en la Bitinia romana. Huelva: Universidad de Huelva. Heimberg, U. 1984. Griechische und römische Landvermessung, in Bauplanung und Bautheorie der Antike 4: 283-284. Berlin: Deutsches Archäologisches Institut. Labarre, G., Özsai ̇t, M., Özsai ̇t, N. and Güceren, I. 2012. La collection du Musée d’Uluborlu: nouvelles inscriptions d’Apollonia Mordiaion. Anatolia Antiqua 20: 121-146. Miranda, E., Ritti, T. and Scardozzi, G. 2012. L’area sacra dei Motaleis e il santuario di Apollo Karios nel territorio di Hierapolis, in F. D’Andria, M.P. Caggia and T. Ismaelli (eds) Hierapolis di Frigia, V. Le attività delle campagne di scavo e restauro 2004-2006: 687-737. Istanbul: Ege Yayınları. Özsait, M., Labarre, G. and Özsait, N. 2011. Nouvelles inscriptions et monuments de la vallée d’Apollonia (Phrygie-Pisidie). Adalya XIV: 271-272, no. 12. Ritti, T. 1985. Fonti letterarie ed epigrafiche: 5-6. Roma: G. Bretschneider. Ritti, T. 2002. Documenti epigrafici dalla regione di Hierapolis. Epigraphica Anatolica 34: 41-70. Ritti, T., Miranda, E. and Guizzi, F. 2007. La ricerca epigrafica: risultati dell’ultimo quadrienno e prospettive future, in F. D’Andria and M.P. Caggia (eds) Hierapolis di Frigia, I. Le attività delle campagne di scavo e restauro 2001-2003: 598-599. Istanbul: Ege Yayınları. Ritti, T., Miranda, E. and Guizzi, F. 2008. Museo archeologico di Denizli-Hierapolis. Catalogo delle iscrizioni greche e latine. Distretto di Denizli: 98, 118-124, 140, nos. 32, 4144, 54. Napoli: Liguori. Ritti, T., Şimşek, C. and Yildiz, H. 2000. Dediche e καταγραφαί dal santuario frigio di Apollo Lairbenos. Epigraphica Anatolica 32: 49-50. Robert, L. 1963. Noms indigènes dans l’Asie Mineure gréco-romaine. Première partie: 356-360. Paris: A. Maisonneuve, Paris. Scardozzi, G. 2010. Oil and wine production in Hierapolis of Phrygia and its territory during Roman and Byzantine age: documentation from archaeological excavations and surveys, in Ü. Aydinoğlu and A. Kaan Şenol (eds) Olive oil and wine production in Anatolia during antiquity. International Symposium Proceedings (Mersin 6-8 November 2008): 277-302. Istanbul: Ege Yayınları. Scardozzi, G. 2011. Contributo alla ricostruzione della topografia antica della Frigia meridionale tra l’età ellenistica e l’epoca proto-bizantina: ricognizioni archeologiche nel territorio di Hierapolis (Turchia). Atlante Tematico di Topografia Antica 21: 111-146.

Scardozzi, G. 2012a. Un nuovo miliario dal territorio di Hierapolis di Frigia. Contributo alla ricostruzione della viabilità antica nella valle del Lykos, in F. D’Andria, M.P. Caggia and T. Ismaelli (eds) Hierapolis di Frigia, V. Le attività delle campagne di scavo e restauro 2004-2006: 739-766. Istanbul: Ege Yayınları. Scardozzi, G. 2012b. Ricognizioni archeologiche nel territorio di Hierapolis (campagne 2005-2006): gli acquedotti, le cave di materiali lapidei, gli insediamenti rurali, i tumuli funerari, in F. D’Andria, M.P. Caggia and T. Ismaelli (eds) Hierapolis di Frigia, V. Le attività delle campagne di scavo e restauro 2004-2006: 109-143. Istanbul: Ege Yayınları. Scardozzi, G. 2012c. New data on the North Theatre of Hierapolis in Phrygia: archaeological, topographical and geophysical surveys, in P. Masino, P. Mignetto and G. Sobrà (eds) Restoration and management of ancient theatres in Turkey: methods, research, results. Proceedings of the Hierapolis International Symposium (Karahayıt, Turkey, 7th-8th September 2007): 232. Galatina: Congedo. Scardozzi, G. 2013a. I santuari del territorio di Hierapolis di Frigia: nuovi dati dalle ricognizioni archeologiche, in L. Giardino and G. Tagliamonte (eds) Archeologia dei luoghi delle pratiche di culto, Atti del Convegno (Cavallino 2012): 69-88. Bari: Edipuglia. Scardozzi, G. 2013b. Ancient land divisions in the territories of Hierapolis in Phrygia and Nicaea (Turkey): the contribution of multitemporal satellite images to the discovery and study, in R. Lasaponara, N. Masini and M. Biscione (eds) Towards Horizon 2020: Earth Observation and Social Perspectives. Proceedings of the 33rd EARSeL Symposium (Matera, June 3‐6, 2013): 875-882. Matera. Scardozzi, G. 2013c. Antiche divisioni agrarie in Asia Minore: problematiche e strumenti di ricerca. Archeologia Aerea VII: 124-148. Scardozzi, G. 2013d. Nuovi dati sulla topografia antica di Hierapolis di Frigia. Atlante Tematico di Topografia Antica 23: 25-59. Scardozzi, G. 2014. Topografia antica del territorio di Hierapolis di Frigia: ricognizioni archeologiche negli altopiani di Uzunpınar e Çal. Scienze dell’Antichità 20.2: 105-110. Scardozzi, G. (in press). Tumuli in the ancient territory of Hierapolis in Phrygia, in Tumulus as sema. Proceedings of the International Conference on space, politics, culture and religion in the first Millennium BC (Istanbul, 1-3 June 2009): 579-589, pls. 274-289. Smekalova, T.N. and Smekalov, S.L. 2006. Ancient roads and land division in the chorai of the European Bosporos and Chersonesos on the evidence of air photographs, mapping and surface surveys, in P.G. Bilde and V.F. Stolba (eds) Surveying the Greek Chora. The Black Sea Region in a Comparative Perspective: 207-248. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press. 33

Giuseppe Scardozzi Thonemann, P. 2011. The Maeander Valley. A Historical Geography from Antiquity to Byzantium: 243-244. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Verzone, P. 1977. L’urbanistica di Hierapolis di Frigia. Tracciato viario e monumenti rimessi alla luce dal 1957 al 1972, in Atti del XVI Congresso di Storia dell’Architettura (Atene 1969): 401-413. Roma: Centro di studi per la storia dell’architettura, Roma. Verzone, P. 1978. Hierapolis di Frigia nei lavori della Missione archeologica italiana, in Un decennio di

ricerche archeologiche: 392-396. Quaderni de ‘La ricerca scientifica’, CNR, 100. Roma. von Aulock, H. 1979. Münzen und Städte Lykaoniens II: 2023, 52-63. Tübingen: Ernst Wasmuth. Wasowicz, A. 1972. Traces de lotissements anciens en Crimée. Mélanges de l’École française de Rome – Antiquité 84(1): 200-205. Yalman, B. 1996. Nicea, in Enciclopedia dell’Arte Antica, Supplemento 1971-1994: 8-11. Roma.


On the Treaty of Apamea. The territorial clause *

Adrian Dumitru**

The Romans defeated Antiochus III the Great in 190 BC and imposed a treaty meant to make sure that he would remain behind the natural boundaries of Asia. At least, this is what the text of the treaty, transmitted to us through the testimony of Polybius and Titus Livius, seems to imply. There is, however, a problem concerning the text: Polybius was translating into Greek the original Latin text of the treaty, and Livy translates back Polybius into Latin.1 So, it is quite difficult to verify the precise terms that were used originally. Moreover, regarding the most important passage in the text, we even have to admit the presence of a locus desperatus. The testimony of Polybius appears fragmented precisely when dealing with the territorial clause of the treaty: ἐκχωρείτω δὲ πόλεων καὶ χώρας [...]. μὴ ἐξαγέτω μηδὲν πλὴν τῶν ὅπλων ὧν φέρουσιν οἱ στρατιῶται.2 The Latin version of Livy, as given in the The story of this paper is somehow strange and convoluted and needs to be told. It began while (re)reading Strabo in the fall of 2001 and with a first version that was feverishly written in the troubled yet beautiful spring of 2003, when the author was a fresh graduate student. For a short period of time, it became a common project with Silviu Anghel who offered many good suggestions and a lot of support. When the first version of this paper was completed, the author came upon the article of Adalberto Giovannini from 1982 (which at that time was somehow neglected by the modern scholars). There he witnessed in awe that many of the ideas he had considered his own had already been published 21 years previously by the Swiss scholar. A brief and friendly exchange of letters with Adalberto Giovannini followed, where it was agreed that both authors had reached the same conclusion using different paths. The present second version of the paper benefited from the observations (and sometimes encouragements) of various scholars and many thanks are expressed here for Attilio Mastrocinque, John Ma, Erich S. Gruen, Alexandru Avram, Florian Matei Popescu, Germain Payen and, last but not least, Olivier Picard (who, as my doktorvater at that time, maintained a beneficial skepticism), to whom this author can only express his gratitude, while maintaining that all the errors that might have found their way into these pages are the sole result of his work and efforts. This author wishes also to thank David Engels, Altay Coşkun (who first contributed his suggestions back in 2008) and Alexandru Moldoveanu for making possible my presence in Brussels for the SSD5, where a version of this paper was first presented, but, for some reasons, it did not make it to the final volume. And now, vingt ans après, here it is, as an hommage for the wonderful scholars who offered us a wonderful debate that lasted about a century. As for the present author, he would propose here to abandon the philological discussion that has come to nothing and to look instead at the historical and the ideological context that could and should and would provide a solution, at the end of the day. ** University of Bucharest/IGR. 1  On this, see for instance Stasse 2009. 2  Pol. 21.42.6: ‘he shall evacuate all cities, lands […] he is to carry away nothing except the arms borne by his soldiers’ (trans. Paton 1927: 335). •

traditional editions following Guillaume Budé, is not of great help, either: Excedito urbibus agris uicis castellis cis Taurum montem usque ad Halyn amnem, et a ualle Tauri usque ad iuga, qua in Lycaoniam uergit. Ne qua arma efferto ex iis oppidis agris castellisque, quibus excedat; si qua extulit, quo quaeque oportebit, recte restituito.3 It is, however, worthwhile having a closer look into the apparatus criticus. The codex Bambergensis (11th century), copying a 5th-century uncial manuscript, attests the reading ad Tanaim amnem4 – and that is how it was rendered in the quite recent editions of Robert Adam and John Briscoe. The other manuscripts give different versions: attanaim (the two readings of the Vetus Carnotensis), but also ad accaym or ad canym or achanim in the emended Renaissance versions of the manuscript.5 This lack of precision in the transmitted geographical terms poses a serious problem: we do not know what kind of treaty was actually signed at Apamea, whether a Roman one, pointing strictly to the evacuation of Asia Minor by Antiochus III, or one in the Hellenistic style, meaning to delimit his areas of influence in Asia and Europe ‘regardless of the extent to which Antiochus had been able to assert these claims by actual occupation’.6 We thus find ourselves in the presence of a huge field of conjectures. 1. Status quaestionis Modern scholars did not hesitate to address the problem, trying to solve it by all means. Practically, the dossier was opened by Guillaume Budé who turned the ad Tanaim in ad Halyn, whence the discussion has been ongoing to this day.7 Theodor Mommsen proposed to Liv. 38.38.4: ‘He shall withdraw from the cities, lands, villages and strongholds on this side of the Taurus mountain as far as the Halys river and from the valley as far as the ridges of Taurus where it slopes down into Lycaonia. He shall carry away nothing but his weapons from these towns, lands and fortresses from which he is withdrawing; if he has removed anything, he shall duly restore it to the place in which each item belongs’ – transl. Sage 1958, ad loc: 125, 127, and see also pp. 124-125, n. 2 for the choice of the lectio ‘ad Halyn’. 4  McDonald 1965 in his ‘Prefatio’, §§ 100 sqq. 5  Ibidem. 6  McDonald 1967: 6. 7  For the modern literature on (the clauses of) the treaty, see: Mommsen 1879: 511-545; Viereck 1909; Cardinali 1910; De Sanctis 1913: 206-209; Bouché-Leclercq 1913-1914: 216, 576; Kahrstedt 1923: 93 sqq.; Pais 1926: 534 sq.; Ruge 1932; Holleaux 1930 = 1957: 229 sq. = 420 sq.; Holleaux 1931-1932 = 1957; Magie 1950: 19, 758-764; McShane 1964: 149-164; McDonald 1967: 1-8; McDonald and Walbank 1969; Liebmann-Francfort 1969: 48-64; Walbank 1979: 157-162; Paltiel 1979; 3 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 35–48

Adrian Dumitru change the ad Tanaim to ad Taurum, assuming that the river Taurus was known in antiquity as Kestrus;8 his view was followed (though with some reservation) by Benedictus Niese9 and Auguste Bouché-Leclercq.10 However, Budé’s conjecture in fact, the ad Halyn quickly found its defenders, with Paul Viereck11 and Giuseppe Cardinali. The latter hoped to settle the dispute with reference to a speech of Sulla as attested in Appian’s Mithradateios: ‘We first came to Asia with an army when Antiochus, king of Syria, was despoiling you [sc. the Greek cities]. We drove him out and fixed the boundaries of his dominion beyond the river Halys and Mount Taurus.’12

However, in 1967, A.H. McDonald tried to reverse this consensus, proposing to identify the Tanais with the upper course of the Calycadnus. In fact, he proved the meaninglessness of the Renaissance emendations to the manuscript tradition, and argued that ‘the name [sc. -of the river] is well established for the lower course, its isolated upper reaches may have been locally named. We are concerned with its upper course – whether or not we call it Tanais’.19 He also pointed out that his hypothesis had the benefit of connecting the territorial clause with the naval restriction (viz. Antiochus’ military fleet was not to sail westwards to the Calycadnus river and the Cape Sarpedonium).20 But he could not explain why the Romans or the Seleucid envoys would use a local and rather unknown name of the river otherwise well-known as Calycadnus, although this river was to be explicitly mentioned within the context of the naval clause. This weakness notwithstanding, McDonald’s theory was rallied to by Frank W. Walbank21 and Édouard Will.22

Cardinali thus concluded: ‘ed allora, la corezione di Tanaim in Halyn nel testo Liviano diventa la cosa più certa del mondo’.13 And yet, the problem was not easy to resolve: Ulrich Kahrstedt came up with a new interpretation, defending the reading of the codex Bambergensis, ad Tanaim; he did not, however, identify this Tanais with the expected Don, which merges into the Sea of Azov and is the only known river attested under the name Tanais in ancient sources. For Kahrstedt, Tanais was the Çakit Su in southern Anatolia, which was to be further connected by a valley leading westwards to Cybistra and to Alata Su, thus dividing Cilicia in two, the western part being removed from the Seleucid realm.14 Indeed, the ancient name of the Çakit Su is unknown, so, why could it not be Tanais? This hypothesis was followed by Ernest Meyer15 and Wilhelm Ruge,16 but strongly rejected by Maurice Holleaux.17 By defending the approach of Viereck and Cardinali, the French scholar constructed a new theory which became dominant for the years to come.18

Next, Robert Adam reverted to the emendation of Mommsen, but, instead of the Kestrus, he suggested identifying the Tanais with the Sarus, which divides Cilicia.23 This interpretation required a double paleographic transcription: first, to turn the ad Halyn into ad Taurum and then into ad Sarum, which would be the final emendation needed to restore the original text. Other scholars have carefully and strategically avoided the subject (e.g. Robert B. McShane,24 Otto Mørkholm,25 Maurice Sartre26 and John D. Grainger,27 to name but of the range of Taurus and west of the line of the middle course of the river Halys’; Liebmann-Francfort 1969: 61: ‘Nous optons donc résolument pour la version de Budé, qui considère la partie occidentale du Taurus, la ligne de partage des eaux reliant ce mont à l’Halys et enfin les cours moyen et supérieur de ce fleuve comme étant la frontière imposée par les Romains […]’. 19  McDonald 1967: 8. 20  Pol. 21, 43, 14: ‘μηδὲ πλείτωσαν ἐπὶ τάδε τοῦ Καλυκάδνου (καὶ Σαρπηδονίου) ἀκρωτηρίου, εἰ μὴ φόρους ἢ πρέσβεις ἢ ὁμήρους ἄγοιεν.’ (‘His ships shall not beyond the Calycadnus and the Sarpedonian promontory unless conveying tribute, envoys or hostages’, engl. transl. by Paton 1926: 337) = Liv., 38, 38, 9:’Ne nauigato citra Calycadnum neu Sarpedonium promunturia, extra quam si qua nauis pecuniam stipendium aut legatos aut obsides portabit.’ 21  Walbank 1979 : 157-8. 22  Will 1982 : 221-224. 23  Adam 1982: LIV: ‘La leçon d’origine serait usque ad Sarum amnem. Le Saros […] fournit une frontière plus précise, puisque son cours passe, à Develi, à 20 km seulement des sources de l’Halys; […] elle ne contredit point la clause navale, mais la justifie […].’ 24  McShane 1964: 151: ‘In the treaty, Antiochus was required to evacuate all cities north of the Taurus mountains and in the Rhodian sphere.’ 25  Mørkholm 1966: 22: ‘the Seleucid king was to evacuate his possessions in Europe and Asia Minor “this side” (i.e. to the north) of the Taurus and renounce his claims to this territory.’ 26  Sartre 2003: 52: ‘Pour les Séleucides, c’en était fini de leur présence en Asie Mineure: les cols des Portes Ciliciennes marquaient la limite nord-ouest de leur royaume et il ne leur restait rien au-delà du Taurus.’ 27  Grainger 2002: 334: ‘The king must withdraw to south of Taurus, surrendering the whole of his Asian territories, etc.’

Adam 1982: L-LVII; Giovannini 1982; Will 1982: 221-238 (esp. 221-224. The views expressed here and originally published in the first edition of his magisterial book in 1967 were more or less the same as in the articles written for CAH2 and ANRW); Manfredi 1982; Gruen 1984: 640643; Le Rider 1992; Dumitru 1999; Prontera 2000: 106-8; Dmitriev 2003; Briscoe 2007: 128-139 (esp. 128-134); Stasse 2009; Payen 2016, Payen 2019. 8  Mommsen 1879: 527 sqq: ‘Der König soll seine Trupen wegziehen aus dem gesammten Gebiet diesseits der Bergkette des Taurus bis zum Taurusfluss und ferner aus diesem Thal des (sc. – flusses) Taurus bis zur Wasserscheide gegen Lykaonien’. 9  Niese 1890: 757, n. 5. His doubts were caused by the fact that the Kestrus river was to divide Pamphylia. See also Niese 1907: 62: ‘Der Senat erkannte es [sc. – Pamphylien] dem Eumenes zu, jedoch nicht ganz, der östliche Teil, die Städte von Aspendos und Side wurden für frei erklärt’. 10  Bouché-Leclercq 1913-1914: 216, 576-57: ‘Il n’y a pas d’hypothèse intangible, et celle-ci n’est pas de tout point satisfaisante.’ 11  Viereck 1909: 373. 12  App., Mithr. 62, 253, 1’’ “ἡμεῖς στρατῷ πρῶτον ἐς Ἀσίαν παρήλθομεν Ἀντιόχου τοῦ Σύρων βασιλέως πορθοῦντος ὑμᾶς. ἐξελάσαντες δ›αὐτὸν καὶ τὸν Ἅλυν καὶ Ταῦρον αὐτῷ θέμενοι τῆς ἀρχῆς ὅρον οὐ κατέσχομεν ὑμῶν, [...] ’ (engl. transl. White 2005). 13  Cardinali 1910: 250. 14  Kahrstedt 1923: 93 sqq.  15  Meyer 1925: 145-146. 16  Ruge 1932. 17  Holleaux 1931-1932 =1957. 18  He was followed by scholars such as Magie 1950: 19: ‘Antiochus was compelled to resign to all claim to the entire portion that lay north


On the Treaty of Apamea. The territorial clause

a few), kept their distance (Eric Gruen),28 or stated, as John Briscoe has, that:

But, in 2003, Sviatoslav Dmitriev argued that there was no need to look for a river to add to the text of Polybius. This long subject of dispute for modern scholars was in fact the result of an addition made by Livy, who felt the compelling need to explain the text of the treaty to his potential readers by inserting the troublesome passage of usque ad Tanaim amnem, precisely because the river Tanais served as a geographical boundary between Europe and Asia. In his view, ‘the vallis Tauri did not refer to any special geographical location [...]. This vallis denoted the northern range of the Taurus as it stretched to the east as far as Cappadocia. Immediately to the East of Cybistra the Taurus rose steeply, which made any further delimitation unnecessary. The purpose of this phrase et ea valle Tauri usque ad iuga qua in Lycaoniam vergit was to ensure that Antiochus withdrew completely from Lycaonia, including numerous extensions of the Taurus which protruded northwards into this region, up to the peak of the Taurus range.’

‘It may be, though, that the search for a continuous unequivocal line of demarcation is misplaced. When the Scipios first told Antiochus, before the battle of Magnesia, that he must retreat behind the Taurus (37. 35. 10 = Pol. 21. 14. 8), the formula, I imagine, was suggested to them by Eumenes. The Scipios would have had little clear idea of the geography of southern Asia Minor, or exactly what was meant by “the Taurus mountain” (after all, “Taurus” was the name given to mountains far to the east of Asia Minor). Nor may Eumenes himself have had any precise boundary in mind; he knew that the Taurus was recognized as a dividing line (cf. Ma 125), and that the removal of Antiochus beyond it would remove him from lands adjoining Pergamum. We can only speculate as to how the clause as it stood in Polybius and L. eventually came to be drafted; certainly we cannot assume that it corresponded to geographical reality.’29

In some instances, Dmitriev’s paper is a little confusing, since he refers to Wilhelm Ruge and Thérèse LiebmannFrankfort as supporters of a theory that equated the river Tanais in Polybius with the modern Don.33 However, Wilhelm Ruge wrote (not exactly in column 2170, referred to by Dmitriev, but 2171) that: ‘Aber abweichend von meinem dortigen Ausführungen, glaube ich jetzt dass mann den Fluss doch an der Grenze gegen Kappadokien suchen muss’.34 As for Thérèse Liebmann-Frankfort, we have seen (supra, n. 18) that she was a supporter of the ‘Holleaux theory’. But, at the end of the day, some of the points Dmitriev makes are tantalizingly acceptable.

The Halys river theory was, more or less, the dominant theory of the second half of the 20th century and it had in common with all the others the fact that it emerged from the utter dismissal of the idea that the river in question could actually have been the Tanais known by everybody as the modern Don. Adalberto Giovannini was the first to reverse the pattern (and, so far, the only one). He pointed out that the Tanais/Don served an ideological function rather than a pragmatic one, that is precisely to separate Europe from Asia.30 The actual border between the Seleucids and the rest of the western world was the Taurus while: ‘en grec qu’en latin la définition des iuga est parfaitement claire: ce sont les cols que l’on franchissait en sortant de la vallée du Çakit pour redescendre vers Cybistra ou Tyane. La deuxième partie de la clause territoriale de la paix d’Apamée fixe donc aux cols qui permettent de passer de la Lycaonie à la vallée du Çakit le point précis qu’il serait désormais interdit à Antiochos de franchir, exactement de la même manière que la clause navale fixe au Cap Sarpédon la limite que sa flotte ne devrait plus dépasser.’31

Apamea is that of Holleaux [...] However, in an elegant and convincing article, A. Giovannini has argued that [...] the boundaries of Antiochus’ territory were indeed to be the Tanais and the Taurus which crossed Asia Minor from Trapezus to Lycia [...] But the passages from Strabo [sc. – Str. 6, 4, 2, 282] and Appian show that, in Asia Minor at least, Rome did not hope to exercise control beyond the Halys.’ A first hint at this hypothesis appears, to my knowledge (but quickly to be rejected in favour of the dominant thesis at that time), in a paper by Marta Sordi (1982:136, n. 1): ‘Si sa invece che il piu famoso Tanais e le palude Meotide il confine fra Asia ed Europa ed e facile supporre che cualche copista di Licio, gia nell’ antichita, abia pensato al Tanais come confine imposto ad Antioco, insieme al divieto in Europa transeundi. Ma che nel tratatto di Apamea si parlava di Halys e non di Tanais e attestato, indipependentemente da Livio, da Strabo (XI, 1,7) e da App. Mithr. 62 e mi sembra certo.’ Also, in the same volume, Valerio Manfredi (1982: 152-3, n. 7) wrote: ‘Va detto comunque […] che non si può certo escludere la possibilità che Livio riportasse effetivamente la lezione “Tanais” ma certamente riferendosi proprio al fiume scitico inteso come confine tra Europa e Asia secondo la concezione corrente mantenutasi poi in età giulio-claudia (cfr. Pomponio Mela) e trasmessa anche attraverso il medio evo fino al rinascimento […] [n.n. – and he goes on with some examples, for instance, an addition to the plutarchian life of Scipio, where Antiochus III is told ‘cedete il possesso dell’Asia di qua dal Monte Tauro fine al fiume Tanai’. This italian translation – and very likely the addition as well – was made by Lodovico Domenichi and published by Sansovino in Venezia in 1570]’. John Briscoe (2007: 130), however, dismissed Giovannini’s view: ‘that the reference is indeed to the Don seems to me so absurd as to make discussion unnecessary, though it strangely convinced Mitchell’. 33  Dmitriev 2003: 42, n. 17. 34  Ruge 1932: col. 2171.

Truth be told, the point made by Giovannini remained rather neglected for at least a decade.32 Gruen 1984: 641: ‘The matter should be left open.’ Briscoe 2007: 133-4. 30  Giovannini 1982 : 230: ‘ce traité a pour but de faire renoncer le roi séleucide à ses prétentions sur l’Asie Mineure et sur l’Europe, de l’empêcher désormais de faire la guerre aux Grecs d’Europe et de recruter des mercenaires dans le monde grec dans son ensemble, le fleuve T. ne peu-être que le Tanaïs connu de tous, c’est à dire le Don. Le Tanaïs marquait en effet la limite entre l’Europe et l’Asie, limite qui était reconnue de tous dès l’époque d’Alexandre le Grand au moins.’ 31  Giovannini 1982: 233 sq. 32  Giovannini did not have many followers. However, Mitchell (1993: 23, n. 121) wrote: ‘The geographical conception of the treaty of 28  29 


Adrian Dumitru In his PhD thesis, Germain Payen seemed rather inclined to accept the hypothesis of Dmitriev, but with a special focus on the range of Taurus mountains as a natural, ideological and administrative limit of Asia Minor from the rest of Asia, as seen by the ancient historians and geographers, and the administrative documents of the Seleucid age35 (and in this, he follows in the footsteps of Marta Sordi,36 Francesco Prontera,37 and Robert Eckstein38).

told, we know almost nothing about Pamphylia in the aftermath of the peace treaty until the embassies of some unknown Pamphylian cities to Rome in 169 BC39 and the foundation of Attaleia by Pergamon, after 169 BC.40 What, then, was the status of Pamphylia, before and after Apamea? Before 188 BC, some cities may have held some kind of freedom, an autonomy, proven for instance by their silver coinage, ‘Lysimachs’ or ‘Alexanders’ distinguished by local marks, such as those minted by Side and Perge.41 Moreover, when Cn. Manlius Vulso entered Pamphylia he negotiated with some cities (Aspendus),42 and when he returned from Galatia he received the surrender of Perge. This latest incident is particularly interesting, because the φρούραρχος who was guarding the city had no orders coming from Antioch concerning the situation. He asked for thirty days to await instructions (and he was granted that time) and after few days he received his orders to withdraw.43 Now, let us remember

2. Dividing Pamphylia? All the above-mentioned scholars argue over some crucial points of the treaty, such as ad Halyn = ad Tanaim = ad Taurum = ad Sarum amnem, ἐκχωρείτω = excedito¸ the matter whether Pamphylia or Cilicia should be divided or not, etc. The fact is that we lack the testimony of Polybius precisely in the most crucial point, the territorial clause, that the testimony of Livy appears to be corrupted, and it appears as well that the philological discussion of a corrupted and broken text, undertaken to date by so many fine and distinguished scholars, has produced what amounts to a snare instead of useful results. So, we have to go back to what we know about the Roman and Seleucid foreign policies before and after the treaty, their ideology and practical objectives, which were expressed before and after the war, to reestablish the neglected and argued truth.

Liv. 44, 14, 3: ‘Pamphylii legati coronam auream ex uiginti milibus Philippeorum factam in curiam intulerunt, petentibusque iis, ut id donum in cella Iouis optimi maximi ponere et sacrificare in Capitolio liceret, permissum; benigneque amicitiam renouare uolentibus legatis responsum et binum milium aeris singulis missum munus.’ This episode was analyzed by Magie (1950: I, 240) who thought that the cities of Pamphylia were left free by the Senate during the negotiations of 189 and 188. Liebmann-Francfort (1969: 74) approved in his judgment as to the freedom of the cities, but thinks that the decision concerning it was not taken in 188, the patres ‘préférant laisser momentanément dans le vague son statut politique et se contenter d’y avoir créé une zone démilitarisée’. 40  Str. 14, 4, 1, p. 667. 41  Seyrig 1963 = 1986: 42-52 (coins of Perge) and 61-66 (coins of Side); Boehringer 1972: 52-68 (the first to point out that the eras appearing on the coins of the cities in Lycia and Pamphylia have different starting dates); Price 1991: 349, 358 (coins of Perge); Ma 1999: 162-3; Le Rider 2001: 38-45; Meadows 2009. 42  Pol. 21, 35, 3-5: = Liv. 38, 15, 1-6: ‘Termessenses eo tempore Isiondensium arcem urbe capta oppugnabant. Inclusi, cum alia spes auxilii nulla esset, legatos ad consulem orantes opem miserunt: cum coniugibus ac liberis in arce inclusos se mortem in dies, aut ferro aut fame patiendam, expectare. Volenti consuli causa in Pamphyliam deuertendi oblata est. Adueniens obsidione Isiondensis exemit; Termesso pacem dedit quinquaginta talentis argenti acceptis; item Aspendiis ceterisque Pamphyliae populis.’ (‘Troops from Termessus were at that time besieging the citadel of the Isiondenses after capturing the town. The besieged, since there was no hope of relief, sent envoys to the consul asking aid: shut up in the citadel with their wives and children, they were expecting death day by day, to be suffered by either the sword or starvation. Thus the eager consul was offered an occasion to turn aside into Pamphylia. By his arrival he rescued the Isiondenses from siege, and on payment of 50 talents of silver he granted peace to Termessus; he did the same for the Aspendians and other peoples of Pamphylia’ (transl. Sage 1958: 49). 43  Pol. 21, 42, 1-5: ‘Αὐτὸς δὲ πυνθανόμενος τὸν ἐπὶ τῆς Πέργης καθεσταμένον ὑπ› Ἀντιόχου φρούραρχον οὔτε τὴν φρουρὰν ἐξάγειν οὔτ› αὐτὸν ἐκχωρεῖν ἐκ τῆς πόλεως, ὥρμησε μετὰ τῆς δυνάμεως ἐπὶ τὴν Πέργην. ἐγγίζοντος δ› αὐτοῦ τῇ πόλει, παρῆν ἀπαντῶν ὁ τεταγμένος ἐπὶ τῆς φρουρᾶς, ἀξιῶν καὶ δεόμενος μὴ προκαταγινώσκειν αὑτοῦ· ποιεῖν γὰρ ἕν τι τῶν καθηκόντων· παραλαβὼν γὰρ ἐν πίστει παρ› Ἀντιόχου τὴν πόλιν τηρεῖν ἔφη ταύτην, ἕως ἂν διασαφηθῇ πάλιν παρὰ τοῦ πιστεύσαντος τί δεῖ ποιεῖν· μέχρι δὲ τοῦ νῦν ἁπλῶς οὐδὲν αὐτῷ παρ› οὐδενὸς ἀποδεδηλῶσθαι. διόπερ ἠξίου τριάκονθ› ἡμέρας χάριν τοῦ διαπεμψάμενος ἐρέσθαι τὸν βασιλέα τί δεῖ πράττειν. ὁ δὲ Γνάιος, θεωρῶν τὸν Ἀντίοχον ἐν πᾶσι τοῖς ἄλλοις εὐσυνθετοῦντα, συνεχώρησε πέμπειν καὶ πυνθάνεσθαι τοῦ βασιλέως· καὶ μετά τινας ἡμέρας πυθόμενος παρέδωκε τὴν πόλιν.’ (‘Hearing now that the commander of the garrison at Perga appointed by Antiochus was 39 

First of all, the defenders of the Viereck–Cardinali– Holleaux–Liebmann-Francfort theory of the Halys River have rightly stressed the fact the Halys border has the merit of precisely dividing Anatolia north of Taurus, and that there is no question of dividing Pamphylia and Cilicia in the aftermath of Apamea, as a consequence of the treaty itself, if we are to look for a Tanais that flows somewhere south of the Taurus mountains, as seen by the opponents of this theory (e.g. Kahrstedt or McDonald). So did Holleaux in 1931 and 1932. The fact that looking for a Tanais river south of Taurus, e.g. the northern course of the Calycadnus, would lead to a division of Pamphylia that never took place disturbed even those who were not entirely convinced that the territorial clause of the treaty meant the Halys River, for example Erich S. Gruen. Truth be Payen 2016: 111-113. Sordi (1982: 139 sqq.) points to the mythical and religious aspects of the Taurus mountains as a true border separating Europe and Asia (and not the Halys), that was transgressed by Manlius Vulso in 187 BC. 37  Prontera 2000: 107: ‘Naturalmente Strabone sa bene che mentre per Erodoto i popoli e i paesi soggeti a Cresso si trovavano “al di qua dell’Halys”, i ‘moderni’ [sc. – the people living in the days of Scipio, Antiochus III and then Strabo] designano ormai quei territori come cis-taurici (XII, 1, 3)’, and p. 108: ‘in ogni caso, quando Strabone nell XII libro [XII, 8, 14] ricorda di passagio l’ingradimento del regno attallide dopo Apamea, egli parla di Asia‚ al di qua del Tauro’, non di Asia “al di qua dell’Halys”.’ 38  Eckstein (2008: 333): ‘This was because the Romans at Apamea forced Antiochus to cede away all the huge gains he had won in Asia Minor since 198, and placed the western boundary of his empire along the Taurus Range (between modern Syria and Turkey).’ 35  36 


On the Treaty of Apamea. The territorial clause

that this happens after the meeting Vulso had with Antiochus’ envoys, who brought him the money and supplies the king was to provide according to the agreement with the Romans. And we must also consider the difference between the time asked for (thirty days) and the time actually required to receive orders (μετά τινας ἡμέρας). It is hard, almost impossible, to believe that the king really forgot to issue orders for his officer (even if scholars such as Maurice Holleaux44 and John Ma seem to believe that), since the sources actually show that Antiochus was indeed concerned with the problem of Pamphylia – the meeting between Vulso and Musaios, his envoy, had to take place somewhere in this area, and the first passage of Manlius through Pamphylia (a province that the king considered to belong to him and not included in the provisions of the treaty) was recent enough to alarm him. Why is Perge the only place in Pamphylia that was held by a royal garrison? The first reason that springs to our mind is that the Seleucid king was forced to gather almost all the troops garrisoning his cities before the battle of Magnesia, a total disaster for his army. The garrison in Perge remained because it was, probably, guarding a very important point in the area (perhaps the chef-lieu of the satrapy?), while the other cities, or most of them, were granted autonomy (the fact that they negotiated directly with Vulso implies that the officials and/or the troops of the Seleucid king must have been absent). What is then the explanation for what happened at Perge? After the peace treaty, Eumenes demanded Pamphylia since it was lying ‘this side of the Taurus, and the envoys of Antiochus said it was on the other, they (sc. – the ten Roman legates) were in doubt and

referred the matter to the Senate’.45 From then on we shall hear nothing about Pamphylia. The positions of the two sides involved are in fact explicit. But, if the settlement that came after Magnesia and the clauses of the treaty of Apamea were compelling the king to surrender Pamphylia, why would he proceed in a manner so dangerous to him, risking a new conflict with Rome? The fact is that he took no risk at all: as the claim of Eumenes confirms, Pamphylia was not mentioned in the treaty. Moreover, when back home, Manlius Vulso was initially refused the triumph because he did everything to provoke a renewal of the war between Rome and Antiochus and he far exceeded his mission as proconsul.46 William Harris has pointed out that Vulso ‘attacked the Galatians without the authorization of a senatorial or comitial war-vote […], Pol. 21, 45, 11: ‘περὶ δὲ τῆς Παμφυλίας, Εὐμένους μὲν εἶναι φάσκοντος αὐτὴν ἐπὶ τάδε τοῦ Ταύρου, τῶν (δὲ) παρ› Ἀντιόχου πρεσβευτῶν ἐπέκεινα, διαπορήσαντες ἀνέθεντο περὶ τούτων εἰς τὴν σύγκλητον. κτλ’ (‘As for Pamphylia, since Eumenes maintained it was on this side of the Taurus, and the envoys of Antiochus said it was on the other, they were in doubt and referred the matter to the Senate.’ (transl. Paton 1927: 347)) = Liv. 38, 39, 17: ‘De Pamphylia disceptatum inter Eumenem et Antiochi legatos cum esset, quia pars eius citra pars ultra Taurum est, integra ad senatum reicitur.’ 46  Liv. 38, 45, 1-5: ‘Legatos sese Cn. Manlio datos pacis cum Antiocho faciendae causa foederisque legum, quae cum L. Scipione inchoatae fuissent, perficiendarum. Cn. Manlium summa ope tetendisse, ut eam pacem turbaret, et Antiochum, si sui potestatem fecisset, insidiis exciperet; sed illum cognita fraude consulis, cum saepe colloquiis petitis captatus esset, non congressum modo sed conspectum etiam eius uitasse. Cupientem transire Taurum aegre omnium legatorum precibus, ne carminibus Sibyllae praedictam superantibus terminos fatalis cladem experiri uellet, retentum admosse tamen exercitum et prope ipsis iugis ad diuortia aquarum castra posuisse. Cum ibi nullam belli causam inueniret quiescentibus regiis, circumegisse exercitum ad Gallograecos; cui nationi non ex senatus auctoritate, non populi iussu bellum illatum. Quod quem umquam de sua sententia facere ausum?’ (‘They said that the commissioners had been assigned to Gnaeus Manlius for the purpose of making peace with Antiochus and of putting into final form the terms of the treaty which had been initiated by Lucius Scipio. Gnaeus Manlius, they said, had striven with all his might to break the peace and to take Antiochus by treachery, if the king should have given him any opportunity to do so; but he, being aware of the deceitfulness of the consul, although often approached with requests for conferences, had avoided, not merely a meeting with him, but even the sight of him. Manlius, they said, when he desired to cross the Taurus, had with difficulty been held back by the pleas of all his lieutenants from trying to test the prediction of ruin found in the verses of the Sibyl for those who crossed the fateful boundaries, but, none the less, had moved up the army and encamped near by on the very crest at the parting of the waters. Finding no pretext for war there, the king’s forces remaining passive, he led the army around against the Galatians, a people against whom war had not been declared by the authority of the Senate or the vote of the assembly. Who, they asked, had ever ventured to do this on their own motion?’ (transl. Sage 1958:153, 155)). At this juncture, it should be mentioned that Manfredi (1982: 158) thinks that ‘ad divortia aquarum’ ‘è invece chiarissima riferita all’area TermessosSagalassos dove l’andamento delle catene montuose è perpendicolare alla linea costiera’ and that Manlius stopped here, in the vicinity of Cape Sarpedon (which is the naval clause of the treaty) and that ‘il confine navale al Capo Sarpedonio potrebbe essere una prova in più per localizzare il vero confino, quello territoriale, decisamente più al ovest, nettamente al riparo da qualunque futura offensiva di forze navali in rotta verso la Pamfilia’ – although he does not propose a particular river or location (but he clearly thinks that this line of demarcation, north-south between the Seleucid kingdom and the rest of the world, should be searched within the area of the Taurus mountains). 45 

neither withdrawing the garrison nor leaving the town himself, he marched against that place with his army. When he was near it the commander came out to meet him, entreating him not to condemn him unheard; for he was doing what was part of his duty. He had been entrusted by Antiochus with the city and he was holding it until he was again informed by his master what he should do, but up to now he had received no instructions from anyone on this subject. He therefore asked for thirty days’ grace in order that he might send and ask the king how to act. Manlius, as he saw that Antiochus was faithful to his obligations in all other respects, allowed him to send and inquire, and after a few days he received an answer and surrendered the town’ (transl. Paton 1927: 331, 333) = Liv. 38, 37, 9-10: ‘Inde ad Pergam ducit, quae una in iis locis regio tenebatur praesidio. Appropinquanti praefectus praesidii obuius fuit, triginta dierum tempus petens, ut regem Antiochum de urbe tradenda consuleret. Dato tempore ad eam diem praesidio decessum est.’ (‘Then he led the troops towards Perga, which alone in this district was held by a royal garrison. As he approached the commander of the garrison met him, asking for a truce of thirty days in order that he might consult King Antiochus about surrendering the city. The time having been granted for that period, the garrison withdrew’ (transl. Sage 1958: 123). 44  Holleaux 1931-2 = 1957, p. 22 = 235 n.1: ‘L’attitude du gouverneur de Pergé […] paraît bien indiquer que jusqu’à ce moment, Antiochos n’avait point été invité à se retirer de la Pamphylie : Si les Syriens n’y occupaient plus qu’une ville, la raison en est, sans doute que, dans la débâcle qui a suivi à  Magnesia, leurs troupes ont spontanément fait retraite en masse vers l’Orient  ; et si Antiochos consent, sur l’injonction, de Manlius, à évacuer Pergé c’est qu’au bout de courage il a maintenant pour système de plier devant toutes les exigences romaines. Ses représentants tiennent au contraire le langage qui devait être le sien.’


Adrian Dumitru presumably in the confidence – justified, as it turned out – that he would get away with it and even celebrate a triumph’.47 In fact, the action of the proconsul was illegal,48 and Vulso, e silentio, does not deny it, since in the speech that he pronounced in his defense he says nothing about provoking the Seleucid king.49 The accusations were indeed irrefutable, as Livy himself notices: ‘Plus crimina eo die quam defensio ualuisset, ni altercationem in serum perduxissent. Dimittitur senatus in ea opinione, ut negaturus triumphum fuisse uideretur.’50 So, Manlius did, in fact, provoke Antiochus, and the φρούραρχος in Perge tried, with the king’s permission (perhaps acting this way at his suggestion), to gain some time for the king to make a final decision. What we also have to keep in mind, besides the claim of Antiochus, is that Pamphylia was not to be divided. Eumenes and Antiochus’ envoys claim that it lies ‘this side’ or ‘the other side’ of the Taurus, and not that the Tanais flows through it. We know indeed that the western limit of the Taurus mountains was the western, sea-bound, limit of Pamphylia, and that the Taurus was also making a natural border between Pamphylia and Cappadocia.51

At least their coinage tends to prove it – so Aspendus, who mints silver coins in the name of Alexander the Great until 182/1,55 Perge until 188 (the coinage of Perge allows us to believe that it was a free or an autonomous city; the garrison expelled by Vulso in the spring of 188 BC could have had a temporary nature, such as in the case of Iasos),56 Side (surprisingly minting ‘lysimachs’ in an area where ‘alexanders’ seem to have been preferred) until c. 150.57 Pergamenian involvement appears only at a later period, after 169 BC, and it is not easy to solve. Would it be possible to assume that Pamphylia was bestowed to or conquered by the Attalids after the defeat of Perseus, in those troubled times that saw Rhodes’s power in the region of western Asia Minor diminishing? An affirmative answer springs first to mind, unless one forgets the persistence of Aspendus’ independent coinage until 150-140 BC. But, and that is another question, it is also possible that in the sensitive matter of Pamphylia, the Attalids, to avoid the same troubles the Rhodians had in Lycia in Caria, held by them as dorai, bestowed or confirmed to the cities in the area the freedom that the Seleucids themselves were forced to respect, at least formally.

And since we are at this juncture, one may wonder, for instance, why Bouché-Leclercq wrote in 1914: ‘En effet, Pergé, sur la rive droite du Cestros, est enlevée à Antiochos, tandis qu’Aspendos, à quelque distance sur la rive gauche, lui reste’.52 Would that be because Antiochus VIII Grypus took a three-year refuge in this city?53 But in that case one should consider, for instance, Cyzicus as being under Seleucid rule at the end of the 2nd century BC just because the rival of Grypus was raised in that city.

What remains at the end of the day is that at no moment whatsoever was Pamphylia to be divided by the provisions of the treaty – whatever the river mentioned by Livy might have been, it most definitely did not flow through Pamphylia. 3. Dividing Cilicia? As for Cilicia, it is hard to believe also that it was divided. We have nothing to prove such an allegation, even if it has found its defenders, since Mommsen. Robert Adam was the only one to admit that Soloi was taken away from the Seleucids, only to justify his hypothesis for the Sarus,58 even if we have a conclusive testimony that the Senate refuted the demand of the Rhodians regarding the freedom of Soloi.59 Moreover, the mint of the Soloi is quite active throughout the 2nd century,60 with coins

The fate of Pamphylia after the peace treaty remains unknown. But if we are to draw a conclusion, it rather seems that its cities kept their independence at first.54 Harris 1979: 263. Pace Grainger 1995, to whom Manlius Vulso executed a movement that was in fact sanctioned by the Senate and which was meant to further cripple the power of the Seleucid kingdom. In his opinion (which may be correct), the common picture we have today of Vulso’s actions is the result of the fact that the propaganda of his political enemies became a dogma that was perpetuated by Livy – but that does not mean it was not the policy which was in fact desired by the Roman Senate. Also Grainger 2002: 335 sq. Against this view, see Giovannini 1982 : 234: ‘Vulso s’est rendu avec ses hommes jusqu’au point précis (termini) où le traité d’Apamée lui permettait d’aller, c’est à dire jusqu’au iuga, où il se trouva en présence des troupes royales. Cet incident prouve que les iuga dont il est question dans la paix d’Apamée marquaient bien sur la route à travers le Taurus, la nouvelle limite entre l’empire Séleucide et la zone d’influence romaine.’ 49  Liv. 38, 47-49. 50  Liv. 38, 50, 1: ‘The accusations would have had more right that day than the defence had they not prolonged the debate to a late hour. The senate adjourned, having given the impression that the triumph would be refused’ (transl. Sage 1958: 173, 175). 51  Str. 11, 12, 2; 11, 8, 1; 14, 2, 1; 14, 3, 8. 52  Bouché-Leclercq 1914: 577. 53  Bouché-Leclercq 1914: 601-602. 54  Seyrig 1963 = 1986: 41 = 45: ‘le traité d’Apamée, juré dans l’été de 188, laissait probablement à Antiochus III la Pamphylie, sauf les 47  48 

villes qui avaient traité avec Manlius, et qui devenaient libres; mais Eumène II obtint encore du sénat que les territoires pamphyliens non dévolus aux villes libres fussent retirés à Antiochus III pour devenir pergaméniens. Pergé, qui n’avait pu acquérir sa libérté, fut apparemment soumise au roi de Pergame, au lieu de l’être au roi de Syrie.’ 55  Le Rider 2001: 40. 56  Coinage: Le Rider 2001: 53; see also Ma 1999: 163: ‘the garrison which appears there in 188 (Pol. 21, 41, 1-5) was probably of the same temporary nature [sc. – as in case of Iasos] (though Polybius calls its commander a φρούραρχος), and further illustrates Seleucid power over the “autonomous ones”’; Meadows 2009: 77, to whom the coinage of Perge ends in 191/90 BC and must be connected to the operations of the Seleucid armies. 57  Le Rider 2001: 41, 53; Meadows 2009: 77 sq. (with an ending year in 185/4 BC). 58  Adam 1982: LV. 59  Pol. 21, 24, 10-15. 60  Houghton, Lorber and Hoover 2008: 9-11 (coinage of Soli for Seleucus IV) passim through p. 357 sq (coinage of Soli for Antiochus VII). The fact that there are no more coins that can be attributed to


On the Treaty of Apamea. The territorial clause

being issued in the name of almost all the Seleucid kings, from Seleucus IV to Antiochus VII. There are also other facts that point to the contrary: about 140 BC, Diodotus Tryphon was able to use Coracesium, precisely in the western part of the Cilicia, the one so-called Tracheia, as his base of operations against the legitimate Seleucid ruler.61 We also find that Seleucid royal silver coins were struck during the late 2nd and early 1st centuries at Seleucia on the Calycadnus or at Elaeusa-Sebaste.62

Between 80/79 and 76 BC, the times of Cn. Dolabella (Posteaquam Cn. Dolabellae provincia Cilicia constituta est), C. Verres66 and P. Servilius Vatia,67 one may be tempted to think that Cilicia was a Roman province, with all the implications of the word.68 However, let us not forget that by this time there is no more Seleucid authority, in Syria as well as in Cilicia. Tigranes the Great, who was neutral towards Rome for the moment, occupied both countries and the few survivors of the dynasty were hiding everywhere they could, including Cilicia.69 In fact, we may conclude, with Richard Sullivan, that, after the lex de Cilicia Macedoniaque provinciis: ‘nothing further is heard of a “province” for twenty years and Cilicia Tracheia remained under nominal Seleucid control until the conquest of Syria by Tigranes the Great in 83 BC. Even after that it served as a place of refuge for two of the Seleucid monarchs […] When Tigranes returned to Armenia about 70 BC, to face Lucullus the next year in battle, Tracheia reverted to fully Seleucid control, however intermittent and short-lived […].’70

However, in 103/2 BC a Roman praetor for Cilicia makes his entrance in the sources.63 Does this mean that Cilicia became at this point a Roman province? It is true that we have a Roman law translated into Greek at Cnidos64 and Delphi (the Lex de Cilicia Macedoniaque provinciis) securing the conditions under which the Roman commander was to fight the Cilician pirates. But, as Robert Morstein Kallet-Marx points out: ‘Rome was not yet prepared to commit itself on a scale and to a duration sufficient to put paid to the problem [sc. – of the Cilician piracy]. That step is not taken until the lex Gabinia over three decades later. It is important that no immediate successor was apparently sent out, for at the date of the law on the praetorian provinces ca. 100 the only commanders abroad who were required to swear to the law were the proconsuls of Asia and Macedonia. Evidently, Rome evacuated the Pamphylian-Cilician coast as quickly as it had come and had allowed the pirates to regroup [...] There is certainly nothing in the preserved portion of the law to suggest that any tribute was to be levied. The authors of the law are careful to state that the assignment of a praetor in Cilicia is to have no effect on the sovereignty of allied kings and peoples over communities subject to them, thus the Seleucid and Cappadocian claims to the south coast of Asia Minor are not to be invalidated.’65

Besides, Strabo’s famous passage71 about the Cilician pirates seems conclusive about the matter: the piracy was made possible by the incompetence of the kings ‘of Syria and Cilicia’ (meaning, the Seleucids) and by their external and internal troubles. Moreover, according to Strabo, the Romans realized that the problem was not easy to solve by means of violence, since they were recognizing the claims of the house of Seleucus Nicator. The problem at hand here is not whether the Seleucids did maintain their real authority in the area or not, but whether they were the only ones to claim sovereignty over Cilicia Tracheia after Apamea and before the arrival of Tigranes – as they indeed were. 4. The naval limitation clause As we have seen, many modern scholars have felt the need to divide Cilicia or Pamphylia in order to better understand the naval limitation clause. Ulrich

Soli under the following Seleucid kings does not mean that Soli was lost for the Seleucids, in fact, as the authors of the catalogue wrote (p. 357 sq.) ‘it is possible that the mint struck coinage for later Seleucid kings, but if so, it no longer enjoyed the privilege of using local reverse types (a privilege retained by Seleucia on the Calycadnus, Tarsus and Mallus), nor did it identify its products with a Solian mintmark. Issues of Soli may lie among the unattributed tetradrachms of several later reigns’. 61  Str. 14, 5, 2, p. 668. 62  Bellinger 1949: 73 n. 64. For the coinage of these two mints, who work continuously for the Seleucid kings until the reign of Seleucus VI, c. 96-4 BC, see Houghton, Lorber and Hoover 2008, passim, and esp. p. 555-559 (coinage of Seleucus VI struck at Seleucia on the Calycadnus) and 559 (coinage of Seleucus VI struck at Elaeusa-Sebaste). 63  Liv. Per. 68: ‘M. Antonius praetor in Ciliciam maritimos praedones persecutus est’; Cic. De oratore 1, 18, 82: ‘egomet [sc. – Antonius] pro consule in Ciliciam proficiscen’. See Reinach 1890: 82: ‘sans doute  pendant quelque temps encore, [la] «  province  » pamphylocilicienne fut plutôt, suivant le sens étymologique du mot, un commandement militaire intermittent qu’une circonscription administrative permanente.’ 64  Text in Hassal, Crawford and Reynolds 1974. 65  Kallet-Marx 1995: 232-33 sq.

Verres was not a praetor of Cilicia, but of Sicily, and, as such, he had the opportunity (and used it) to rob Antiochus XIII when he was on his way home. Verres had his own troubles with the Cilician pirates, for which see Mattingly 2003: 177-198 (in fact, a paper published earlier, in 1980, in honour of Eugenio Manni, entitled C. Verres and the pirates). 67  Str. 14 5, 7, p. 671; Cic., In. Ver. 2, 1, 44; 56-57; Oros. 5, 23, 22; Eutrop. 6, 3; Reinach 1890: 326; Sherwin-White 1976; Sherwin-White 1984: 152-158. 68  The issue of the date when Cilicia became a province in the full sense of the word, and not a provincia as an area of operation of a Roman offical (e.g. in the same way that Africa was a provincia for Regulus or Scipio Africanus) is rather complicated. See, e.g. Syme 1959: 299 sq = 1975: 120 sq; Sherwin-White 1976: 6-8; Will 1982: 466468; Ferrary 2000: 167-168; Sartre 2003: 218-9 (who seems to favour the idea that Cilicia entered the Roman world a fully fledged province at the beginning of the 2nd century BC); Payen 2016: 415-7 (who agrees with Kallet-Marx). 69  Just. 40, 1, 1-4; App., Syr. 48, 246; Bouché-Leclercq 1914: 605-608; Bellinger 1949: 79-82; Downey 1961: 137-139; Will 1982: 495 sq. 70  Sullivan 1990: 186. 71  Str. 14, 4, 2, p. 669. 66 


Adrian Dumitru Kahrstedt thought that the limit imposed to the military fleet of Antiochus III, leaving about 200 km of coastline beyond any naval communication with the core of the kingdom, was unsupportable.72 After all, the Seleucid king was deprived of his right to control a good part of his own country. Ruge followed his opinion: ‘Die Angabe bei Liv. XXXVIII, 38, 9, dass Antiochos westwärts nicht über die Kalykadnos und das Sarpedonische Vorgebirge mit seinen Schiffen hinausfahren dürfe, lässt gar keine andere Grenzziehung zu.’73 To that argument, M. Holleaux opposed that:

line in the 3rd century. Since Antiochus was forbidden to conduct military operations in Europe and Cistauric Asia, it would have been clearer and more convenient to mention the sailing limitations connected with this limit, if Antiochus’ vessels were to sail beyond the boundaries of his kingdom. And since the Senate designated a line, which seemed to be different from the frontier, this has to mean something. The most reasonable hint is that Antiochus was to be limited in his right of military administration, thus creating a demilitarized zone, given the fact that the communication over land between Syria and Cilicia Tracheia was hindered by the Taurus Mountains. Taking into account the fact that the treaty was imposing not only a frontier, but also an area where Antiochus was restricted to wage war, it seems more likely that the naval limitation, in these terms, was meant to cut off an area of his kingdom inaccessible to his ships, this Roman decision explaining the ulterior Cilician piracy. In this regard, we agree with LiebmannFrancfort’s view that a demilitarized zone was to be created south of the Taurus.81 Besides, if the new border designed by the treaty were to coincide with the naval restriction, would it not have been more natural to specify it in the very text of the treaty itself?

‘Et quant aux embarras que cette précaution [sc. – the naval limitation] pouvait entraîner pour le roi vaincu, dussent-ils même être aussi sérieux que les représente Kahrstedt, pourquoi les Romains y auraient-ils eu égard? A supposer (ce qui n’est pas sûr) qu’ils s’en fussent clairement rendus compte, j’imagine que, loin d’en prendre souci, ils en eussent bien plutôt ressenti quelque satisfaction. L’autorité d’Antiochos sur la Cilicie Trachée risquait de devenir illusoire ? Cette perspective n’avait rien qui leur pût déplaire. Lorsqu’il déclare absurdes les conséquences du traité d’Apamée interprété comme on fait d’ordinaire,  Kahrstedt les juge du point de vue d’Antiochos. Peut-être aurait-il raison de se placer à celui du Sénat, c’est-à-dire de l’auteur du traité, lequel sûrement, les considérait d’un autre œil.’74

Going back to the question of Pamphylia, we have to notice a problem. The territories taken away from Antiochus were divided mainly between Rhodes and the Attalids. This is perhaps why scholars are sometimes tempted to see that if Pamphylia was not an entirely Attalid dependency, then at least a part of it had to belong to the Seleucid house.82 When, for instance, France renounced Alsace it meant that Germany occupied the entire region, with the French transferring their right over the province they had lost. In antiquity, things looked a bit different. A region consisted of the land and its cities. Those cities could have been free or autonomous, and the transfer of territory implied also a transfer of position regarding those cities. Most of the Pamphylian cities enjoyed some degree of autonomy, perhaps even freedom. This explains why we see no Attalid activity in the area before 169 BC. Furthermore, the fact that Eumenes demanded it after the conclusion of the peace treaty shows clearly that it was not included within the provisions of the treaty. It is, as we have seen, Manlius’ personal action that took Pamphylia away from the Seleucids. Antiochus should have known that, after the entrance of the Roman general into Pamphylia, something was to be done about this province. Yet he did not evacuate it in the first place, just as he had done for those territories included within the limits of the treaty. He renounced any and all claims only after the Roman injunction. Why? Was he intimidated? He does not appear to have been: almost at the same time, the

This reasoning should have sufficed to win the day. But A.H. McDonald thought differently. The naval limitation seemed beyond any logical limit to him and this is why he insisted on the Calycadnus: ‘The Calycadnus line, on the other hand, was relevant to the territorial issues at stake in the western part of the Taurus range. It might well be included in the military terms of the Roman treaty with Antiochus’.75 Frank W. Walbank shared his opinion76 and so did Adalberto Giovannini.77 The naval limitation clause was obviously directed against Antiochus’ military power. It was a wellentrenched diplomatic custom, and the first attestation for the Romans using it is provided by their first two peace treaties with Carthage;78 their treaties with Tarentum79 and queen Teuta80 would follow the same Kahrstedt 1923: 96: ‘Wenn die Küstenstädte im raumen Kilikien seleukidisch bleiben sollten, so war die Fahrtgrenze heller Unsinn.’ He was, more or less, answered by Manfredi (1982: 158): ‘Bisogna notare inoltre che un confine navale è sempre tenuto più arretrato rispetto ad un confine terrestre come è giusto: una flotta infatti si muove con velocità molto maggiore di qualunque esercito e le sue possibilità di piombare di sorpresa su di un obiettivo sono, di conseguenza, altrettanto superiori.’ 73  Ruge, Philol. Wochenschr. 48 (1928): 1373. 74  Holleaux 1932 = 1957: 13 = 227. 75  McDonald 1967: 8. 76  Walbank 1979: 157-8, 160. 77  Giovannini 1982: 233 sq. 78  Pol. 3, 22, 5-6, 24, 11. 79  App., Samn., 7,1. 80  Pol. 2, 12, 3; App., Ill. 7. 72 

81  82 


Liebmann-Francfort 1969: 71-75. See supra.

On the Treaty of Apamea. The territorial clause

Rhodians demand the freedom of the city of Soloi. Yet the king did not comply. There had also to be another reason for his attitude.

from the cities they were abandoning.90 In this case, Frank W. Walbank (1979: 158) opts not to follow him so closely: ‘This is a meaning of ἐκχωρεῖν and Antiochus was clearly intended to renounce his sovereignty beyond Taurus; but the withdrawal of all troops is also implied’. In fact, at the moment when the peace treaty is signed, there were certainly no more Seleucid troops, garrisons and officials in Asia Minor ‘this side of the Taurus’. How do we know that? Because immediately before the conclusion of the peace treaty, there is Manlius Vulso’s personal initiative in Pamphylia with the king’s garrison of Perge. As we have seen, Perge was the only place in those areas held by Seleucid garrison. We may also imply, since the Roman general does not complain at all when Musaios brings him the supply of corn demanded by the treaty, that it is a fact that all royal garrisons were already withdrawn or compelled to withdraw from Cistauric Asia. What was then the real meaning of ‘ἐκχωρείτω = excedito’? The physical withdrawal of troops was a necessary clause of the treaty. It was meant to be there. But it had to mean also ‘renouncing all claims’, especially since in the preliminaries that followed the battle of Magnesia, Scipio is dictating the Roman conditions to the king – ‘δεῖν γὰρ αὐτοὺς ἔκ τε τῆς Εὐρώπης ἐκχωρεῖν καὶ (τῆς Ἀσίας) τῆς ἐπὶ τάδε τοῦ Ταύρου πάσης’,91 translated by Livy with ‘Europa abstinete; Asia onim quae cis Taurim montem decedite’.92 Certainly, at that moment the Romans could not expect the king to withdraw his troops from a region he had already lost – Europe.93 The verb used by Polybius is ἐκχωρεῖν and we can see that Livy is splits its meaning in two: ‘abstinete’ for the European regions and ‘decedite’ for Cistauric Asia. That is to prove that the Greek verb had indeed two meanings in Roman eyes: ‘renouncing all claims’ for Europe and ‘withdrawal of troops’ for Asia. This separation is not to be found in the clause of the peace treaty, precisely because Antiochus had already withdrawn from Asia at the moment of the conclusion of the treaty. However, we have a trace of it in the different manner that Asia and Europe are perceived in the treaty itself. The provisions of the treaty speak of losing the right to wage war in the Aegean islands and in Europe. As for Asia, we have a more complete settlement, pointing to a frontier and the withdrawal of troops. That was because the Romans never recognized the right of the king to impose his will in Europe, but they had, for a moment, at the discussions at Lysimacheia, been ready to renounce Asia.

What do we know in fact about Pamphylia as a geographical entity? It was trans-Tauric, of that we can be sure.83 The Taurus Mountains separated it from Pisidia and Lycaonia, having their starting point in Lycia, in front of the Kelidonian Islands, and these islands lie were the ‘coast of Pamphylia begins’,84 dividing Asia into two parts – until they reach the eastern extremities of India and Scythia.85 They provided a continuous line dividing Lycaonia and Cappadocia from Pamphylia and Cilicia. This is why Eumenes and Antiochus argue for Pamphylia being cis- or trans-Tauric, but never saying a word about a river flowing through it, if that river was to be the boundary between the two powers. If that river were to cut Cilicia in two, the matter would have been solved from the very beginning, as Pamphylia lay westwards. In fact, the Taurus appears to be the most appropriate limit for Antiochus’ kingdom, separating it to the north from Lycaonia, Cappadocia and Armenia. Since the western limit of the Taurus was well known, dividing Lycia and Pamphylia from Pisidia and Lycaonia (clearly Rhodian and Pergamenian dominions), it was therefore necessary to trace an eastern frontier. This explains why Guillaume Budé thought of the Halys, as this river indeed separated Cappadocia and Lycaonia. But at some point it also ran through inner Galatia and Pontus, and it did not reach the Taurus directly. 5. ... excedito agris vicis urbis et castellis Another point of dispute in the academic tradition was the enigmatic ἐκχωρείτω = excedito. How could Antiochus, in fact, withdraw his troops from Asia Minor and Europe, having already lost almost all military control over these areas?86 Holleaux87 thought that ἐκχωρείτω meant ‘renunciation’, giving up all claims over a territory, basing his thesis on the analogy to the treaty with Carthage (241 BC)88 and the condition imposed on Philip V at Nikaia (198 BC).89 He was right. But A.H. McDonald reopened the case, pointing out the rest of the sentence, which tells us that the king’s troops were to give back all the loot they had taken Str. 12, 7, 2, p. 570; 14, 1, 3, p. 664; 14, 4, 3, p. 668. Str. 11, 12, 2, p. 521; 14, 2, 1, p. 651, 3, 8, p. 666. See also Str. 11, 8, 1, p. 510, 85  Str, 11, 12, 2; See also 11, 1, 3, p. 490; 15, 2, 1, p. 720. For a brief analysis, see for instance Prontera 2000: 98, 104-106. 86  Mommsen 1879: 528; Kahrstedt 1923: 93: ‘Dieser Fluss [sc. – Halys] lief überall weit ausserhalb des Seleukidischenreiches durch Pontos, Kappadokien, Galatien und Paphlagonien; Antiochos konnte keine Gebiet “bis zum Halys” abtreten, sowenig heute Frankreich ein solches “bis zum Po” oder “bis zum Ebro” oder Italien ein solches “bis zur Rhone”’; Meyer 1925: 145. 87  Holeaux 1931-1957: 310-311 = 213. 88  Pol. 1, 62, 8 ‘ἐκχωρεῖν Σικελίας ἁπάσης Καρχηδονίους καὶ μὴ πολεμεῖν Ἱέρωνι κτλ’. 89  Pol. 18, 1, 3: ‘τῆς Ἑλλάδος ἁπάσης ἐκχωρεῖν’, 9, 1. 83  84 

McDonald 1967: 3: ‘The fact that Livy prefers the former interpretation [i.e. – ‘evacuation of occupied places’], with its reference to the soldiers, points to actual “evacuation”.’ 91  Pol. 21, 17, 3: ‘They must retire from Europe and from all Asia on this side [of the] Taurus.’ 92  Liv. 37, 45, 14. 93  In point of fact, Ainos and Maroneia (which were bypassed by the Roman army in their march towards Lysimacheia and then on into Asia Minor) were still held by Seleucid troops. They only surrendered to a squadron of three ships sent by the praetor Q. Fabius Labeo at some point between the negotiations at Apameia and the expedition of Manlius Vulso: Liv. 37, 60, 7; Grainger 2002: 346. 90 


Adrian Dumitru If ἐκχωρεῖν was to mean only ‘renouncing all claims’, then Halys could have been the right frontier, and that is because Holleaux (or, later on, LiebmannFrancfort) believed that the treaty signed at Apamea meant a delimitation between the influence of the two great powers, Rome and the Seleucids. It could have been so. We know from Strabo that Halys divided Asia Minor from Asia and that the Greeks were calling Asia the ἡ ἐντὸς Ἅλυος χώρα.94 In this case, the connection between Halys and Taurus could have been a hypothetical line. But the problem at stake is a peace treaty: however, serving Roman interests it could not have been so unclear, so ambiguous. That hypothetical ‘ideal’ line was a breach in the territorial clause: if the Romans could use it, the Seleucids could also use it. And in the present situation, the Seleucids were better able to use it, if they wanted to, given their proximity to the areas in question.

the Seleucids was that they were the rulers of Asia, the rightful successors of the Achaemenids and Alexander. As Elias Bikerman rightly points out, ‘il est assez probable que le nom de Syrie comme désignation de l’Empire séleucide ne s’est répandu qu’après la perte de l’Asie par la dynastie’.96 The Seleucids were often considered to be and named as kings of Asia.97 One has not to forget the real cause that made the Romans clash with Antiochus: the division of power between Europe and Asia. The ideological weapons used in this diplomatic struggle that preceded the war were the freedom of the Greeks and the rights that the Romans held as victors over Philip V over his dominions in Asia versus Antiochus’ hereditary claims. Proclaiming the freedom of the Greek cities in Europe and Asia, as well at Corinth in 196,98 was a gesture full of significance. This was to provide a heavy weapon against the Seleucids’ more and more intriguing policy. In their view, the Romans were apparently entitled to do so, because they took over dominion of those cities in Asia previously held by king Philip of the Macedonians. At that time, Antiochus was marching with his army across western Asia Minor, conquering or subduing the Greek cities in Lycia, Caria and Aeolis. In fact, as Attilio Mastrocinque argued, the military actions of Antiochus were not directed against the freedom of the Greek cities.99 Moreover, on at least

We think that ἐκχωρεῖν means ‘renouncing all claims’ and ‘physical withdrawal of the troops’. But this is not a condition provided for the year 188, but for 189. The troops were to surrender the ‘booty’ (if any) only if in the future there will be any complaints about this matter. That is the meaning of the provision ‘μὴ ἐξαγέτω μηδὲν πλὴν τῶν ὅπλων ὧν φέρουσιν οἱ στρατιῶται· κτλ’ = ‘Ne qua arma efferto ex iis oppidis agris castellisque, quibus excedat; si qua extulit, quo quaeque oportebit, recte restituito’. The ἐκχωρεῖν has a double meaning that Livy’s translation is surprising very well.

θερινῆς ἀνατολῆς· ἐλαττοῦται δὴ τοῦ συνάμφω μήκους τῷ μεταξὺ τῆς θερινῆς ἀνατολῆς καὶ τῆς ἰσημερινῆς· τοῦτο γὰρ ἡ Ἀσία κτλ’, 2 5, 31, 1: ‘Ἀπὸ δὲ τοῦ Τανάιδος καὶ τῆς Μαιώτιδός ἐστι τὰ ἐντὸς τοῦ Ταύρου συνεχῆ, τούτοις δ’ ἑξῆς τὰ ἐκτός. διαιρουμένης γὰρ αὐτῆς ὑπὸ ὄρους τοῦ Ταύρου δίχα διατείνοντος ἀπὸ τῶν ἄκρων τῆς Παμφυλίας ἐπὶ τὴν ἑῴαν θάλατταν κατ’ Ἰνδοὺς καὶ τοὺς ταύτῃ Σκύθας’, 11, 1, 1, p. 490: ‘Τῇ δ’ Εὐρώπῃ συνεχής ἐστιν ἡ Ἀσία κατὰ τὸν Τάναϊν συνάπτουσα αὐτῇ· περὶ ταύτης οὖν ἐφεξῆς ῥητέον διελόντας φυσικοῖς τισιν ὅροις τοῦ σαφοῦς χάριν. ὅπερ οὖν Ἐρατοσθένης ἐφ’ ὅλης τῆς οἰκουμένης ἐποίησε, τοῦθ’ ἡμῖν ἐπὶ τῆς Ἀσίας ποιητέον. κτλ’; Arr., Anabasis, 3, 30, 9, 3: ‘ὅρον ποιοῦσι τῆς Ἀσίας καὶ τῆς Εὐρώπης, οἷς δὴ ἀπὸ τοῦ μυχοῦ τοῦ πόντου τοῦ Εὐξείνου ἡ λίμνη τε ἡ Μαιῶτις καὶ ὁ ἐς ταύτην ἐξιεὶς ποταμὸς ὁ Τάναις οὗτος διείργει τὴν Ἀσίαν καὶ τὴν Εὐρώπην, καθάπερ ἡ κατὰ Γάδειρά κτλ’; Plin., Nat. Hist 1, 3, 3: ‘Terrarum orbis universus in tres dividitur partes, Europam, Asiam, Africam. origo ab occasu solis et Gaditano freto, qua inrumpens oceanus Atlanticus in maria inferiora diffunditur. hinc intranti dexterea Africa est, laeva Europa, inter has Asia termini amnes Tanais et Nilus.’ (‘The whole circuit of the earth is divided into three parts, Europe, Asia and Africa. The starting point is in the west, at the Straits of Gibraltar, where the Atlantic Ocean bursts in and spreads out into the inland seas. On the right as you enter from the Ocean is Africa and on the left Europe, with Asia between them; the boundaries are the river Don and the river Nile’ – transl. in Rackham 1969); Pomponius Mela, 1, 3, 15: ‘Europa terminos habet ab oriente Tanain et Maeotida et Pontum […] Ora eius forma litorum Tanai ad Hellespontum […] contrariis litoribus Asiae non opposita modo uerum et similis est’, etc. 96  Bickerman 1938: 5. However, it is important to point out that the official name of the kingdom was always connected with the person of the King, whose authority is rather personal. Some historians writing about the Seleucids use the title ‘kings of Asia’ or ‘kings of Syria’, indeed, but most of those authors available to us wrote after the conclusion of the treaty of Apamea. It would be most interesting to know how the Greek contemporaries of the Seleucids were referring to them before 188 BC. 97  App. Syr. 1, 12; I Mac. 1, 8; 8, 6; 11, 13; 12, 39; 13, 32; II Mac. 3, 3; IV Mac. 3, 20; Str. 11, 10, 2, p. 515; Jos. Ant Jud. 12, 119; 13, 113. For a recent view, see Strootman 2019. 98  Pol. 18, 44-46. 99  Mastrocinque 1983: 58: ‘Ma nell 197-196 il re Antioco era piuttosto impegnato nella “liberazione” delle città , non nella loro sottomisione’

6. And the river Tanais ... All the above is just because no one (except Adalberto Giovannini and Heinz Heinen) ever thought seriously about the Tanais river as the modern Don. How could this watercourse have something to do with Asia Minor? Apparently, there was no connection. However, we have a full dossier in our sources that points to the fact that Tanais was the conventional, geographical limit between Europe and Asia.95 The dynastic claim of Str. 12, 1, 3, p. 534. See also Hdt. 1, 28. Among the many sources, both Greek and Roman, to perpetuate the tradition of the Tanais/Don as a frontier between Europe and Asia: Ps. Scylax, Per. 70.1: ‘ἀπὸ Τανάϊδος δὲ ποταμοῦ ἄρχεται ἡ Ἀσία κτλ’ (‘And past the Tanais river Asia begins’ – transl. in Shipley 2011: 72); Pol. 3, 37, 3, 2: ‘ἓν μέρος αὐτῆς Ἀσίαν, τὸ δ› ἕτερον Λιβύην, τὸ δὲ τρίτον Εὐρώπην προσαγορεύουσι. τὰς δὲ διαφορὰς ταύτας ὁρίζουσιν ὅ τε Τάναϊς ποταμὸς καὶ Νεῖλος καὶ τὸ καθ› Ἡρακλέους στήλας στόμα. Νείλου μὲν οὖν καὶ Τανάιδος μεταξὺ τὴν Ἀσίαν κεῖσθαι συμβέβηκε, κτλ ’, 34, 7, 9, 2 (= Str, II, 5, 5, p. 106): ‘τὸ (δὲ) μῆκος τῆς Εὐρώπης ὅτι ἔλαττόν ἐστι τοῦ συνάμφω τῆς τε Λιβύης καὶ τῆς Ἀσίας ἐκθείς, οὐκ ὀρθῶς τὴν σύγκρισιν ποιεῖται. τὸ μὲν γὰρ στόμα τὸ κατὰ στήλας φησὶν ὅτι κατὰ τὴν ἰσημερινὴν δύσιν ἐστίν, ὁ δὲ Τάναϊς ῥεῖ ἀπὸ θερινῆς ἀνατολῆς· κτλ’ (‘And when he [sc.: Polybius, as rendered by Strabo] that the length of Europe is less than that of Africa and Asia combined he makes a false comparison, for he says that the Strait between the pillars lies due west while the Tanais flows from south-east’ – transl. Paton 1927, vol. VI: 313, 315); Str. 2 4, 5, p. 106: ‘Τό [τε] μῆκος τῆς Εὐρώπης ὅτι ἔλαττόν ἐστι τοῦ συνάμφω τῆς τε Λιβύης καὶ τῆς Ἀσίας ἐκθείς, οὐκ ὀρθῶς τὴν σύγκρισιν ποιεῖται· τὸ μὲν γὰρ στόμα τὸ κατὰ στήλας φησὶν ὅτι κατὰ τὴν ἰσημερινὴν δύσιν ἐστίν, ὁ δὲ Τάναϊς ῥεῖ ἀπὸ 94  95 


On the Treaty of Apamea. The territorial clause

one occasion he seems to have acted in connection with the Rhodians, helping them to recover Stratonicea in Caria.100 And thus he eventually managed to recover the lands that previously had belonged to Ptolemaios IV and Philip V.

qu’une nouvelle conférence de Lysimachie ne soit jamais possible?105 The kingdom of Lysimachus is not included formally in the treaty; it was unnecessary. However, we know, although not with certainty, that the Taurus Mountains were the natural frontier between Seleucus I and Lysimachus after the disappearance of the realm of Demetrius I,106 and we saw that Antiochus III struggled to make the Romans recognize his dynastic claim over Asia and Thrace,107 rightful successor of Seleucus I as he was. The Romans could have recognized his claims over Asia, provided that he renounced Europe, but that was not acceptable for the King. The peace treaty gives us the perfect picture of this situation, since in reality all that was taken from Antiochus, in fact, was the ancient Kingdom of Lysimachus.108 The territorial clause of the treaty of Apameia implies Thrace and the Cistauric part of Asia (perfectly divided by the Taurus between Pergamum, Cappadocia and the Seleucids). The Tanais river, as a natural border between Europe and Asia, and the region of Asia bordered by the Taurus Mountains (including Cappadocia and Armenia), were to be the limits of the new Seleucid kingdom.

Immediately after the proclamation at Corinth, the Roman legates and the king had a meeting at Lysimachea.101 One of the missions of the Roman envoys was to free the Greek cities, thus racing the royal troops who were about to reestablish Seleucid authority therein. It was obviously a losing race – the only Asian city freed by the Romans at that time being Bargylia.102 The dialogue between the king and the Roman envoys103 is very suggestive, because the Romans demanded that the king should withdraw from the cities previously belonging to Ptolemaios IV and Philip V, and that the king was to restore to all the Greek cities in Asia their freedom.104 We can see what the Romans really wanted: to keep Antiochus away from Europe, because they proposed that, if Antiochus insisted and persisted in keeping Lysimachea, then the Roman were free to back-up the claims for freedom of the Greeks in Asia Minor. But the king replied that, as he refrained from interfering in the affairs Rome had with Greek cities in Italy and Sicily, so Rome should keep out of Asia. Besides, his rights over Thrace were legitimate, as this was the inheritance he received from his ancestor, Seleucus I, who defeated Lysimachus at Curupedium. Or, this is the perfect explanation of the enigmatic territorial clause:

The aftermath of the peace treaty seems to prove that our hypothesis is correct and that indeed the frontier between the Roman and Seleucid areas of influence was an ‘ideal’ Tanais border, thus separating the inner Asia from Europe – and from what we call today Asia Minor. First, the satraps appointed by Antiochus III in Armenia (Artaxias) and Sophene (= Armenia Minor, administered by Zariadris) rebelled when hearing the news of the disaster at Magnesia. Indeed, they got away unpunished. Their next move was to obtain Roman recognition, which was also granted.109 If the political dividing line between Rome and the Seleucids was the Halys or any other river, that would have been a clear violation of the treaty, because it would have meant that the Romans were interfering in the areas beyond the limits set by the treaty of Apameia. We know well that the Romans were not always respecting the treaties

C’est justement le royaume de Lysimaque qu’Antiochos doit abandonner. Cela va de toutes les conditions territoriales des Romains précédant la Magnésie. Le fait que le «  royaume de Lysimaque  » n’est pas précisé dans le texte du traité n’est pas un argument contraire. Il aurait été superflu de la part des Romains d’affirmer d’une manière directe dans un traité gouverné par le jus gentium qu’ils privaient Antiochos d’un droit légitime et personnel – surtout quand ils avaient la possibilité de fixer les conditions du traité d’une telle manière and n. 8: ‘la politica di Antioco verso i Greci d’Asia Minore è il motivo della grande scarsità di emissioni di moneta di Antioco a suo nome presso le città della costa egea’. 100  Liv. 33, 18, 19-22: ‘Stratoniceam petissent, recipi eam urbem sine certamine potuisse. praetermissa eius rei occasio est dum in castellis uicisque recipiendis Peraeae tempus teritur. interim animi eorum qui Stratoniceam praesidio obtinebant confirmati sunt; mox et Dinocrates cum iis quae proelio superfuerant copiis intrauit muros. nequiquam inde obsessa oppugnataque urbs est, nec recipi nisi aliquanto post per Antiochum potuit.’ 101  Much has been (and still will be) written about the conference at Lysimacheia, so we shall only refer here to Will 1982: 186-189; Gruen 1984: 621-624 and Grainger 2002: 89-97. 102  Badian 1959: 86: ‘precisely those places where Antiochus might be expected to be interested before long.’ 103  Pol. 18, 50 – 52; Liv. 33, 39-41. 104  Badian (1959: 86) points out that the freedom of the Greeks per se must not have been that important, given the fact that some cities were to be restored to Ptolemaios. Ferrary (1988: 141-146) shares this opinion. In fact, what the Romans really wanted from Antiochus was that he would refrain from military operations in Europe.

Dumitru 1999: 6. Magie 1951: 917: ‘On the south, Lysimachus’ dominions were bounded by the range of Taurus’; Will 1979: 97-103; Franco 1993: 56: ‘L’ipotesi largamente prevalente nella critica, sulla base di testimonianze antiche, é che a Lisimaco sia spettata l’Asiq Minore fino al Tauro, al di là del quale si sarebbe esteso il dominio di Seleuco. Tuttavia, l’idea di un regno lisimacheo esteso fino alla Cappadocia non è facile da accetare: infatti le testimonianze locali circa il dominio del re si limitano all’Asia occidentale [sc. – directly after Ipsus]’, but things must have changed after the defeat of Demetrius I; Lund 1992: 80-81, 226, notes 1-5, who carefully avoids to take a position in this matter, however stating that the kingdom of Lysimachus must have stretched east as far as Halys and the Taurus mountains. 107  Pol. 18, 51, 4-5. In fact, as stated by Antiochus the Great at the conference in Lysimacheia, Thrace was to have a particular status within his realm. Lysimacheia was to be the residence of his son, Seleucus, as a viceroy. Cf. Pol. 18, 51, 8. 108  This was also pointed out by Giovannini (1982: 226 sq). 109  Str. 11, 14, 5, p. 528, 14, 15, p. 531. See also Patterson 2001: 154-162 (esp. 154-155); Payen 2016: 134-8. 105  106 


Adrian Dumitru they signed: as happened to the Carthaginians after the first Punic war, and they did complain about that; but Antiochus, apparently, did not.

this with another proposed analogy, this time in Tacitus’ description of the Roman campaign in 45/6 AD against Mithradates VIII of Bosporus with the crossing of (the real) Tanais, i.e. the Don,117 pointing to the fact that the legions ‘were three days’ journey from the Tanais – a distance which, it seems, was indicative of the nearness’ of these limits of the world’.118 All this seems to prove that Quintus Curtius, conjuring up Alexander’s image of crossing the Tanais (that he mistakes for the Iaxartes), in an age when the Roman Empire was indeed crossing all the limits of Europe (as the ancients saw them), did nothing else than perpetuate a view which, indeed, saw the Tanais as a viable border between Europe and Asia, with a quite different course from that known today. What is more, if Antiochus were to be confined in Asia, the Romans saw themselves in the very different and better position of holding not only Europe but a Cistauric foothold into Asia itself.

The second incident is an enigmatic text of Diodorus,110 telling us that Seleucus IV, the son and successor of Antiochus III, was tempted to cross the Taurus against Pergamum and Cappadocia between 181 and 180 to help Pharnaces I of Pontus, who was his ally (and who also probably tried to bribe him with 500 talents, according to Polybius). But Seleucus changed his mind when he was about to cross the Taurus ‘on taking note of the treaty that his father had made with the Romans’. As Otto Mørkholm pointed out: ‘[For] the Syrian army to cross the Taurus mountains where they bordered on Pergamene territory in Lycaonia was tantamount to a nullification of the Apamea treaty […] which would certainly lead to war with Rome […] The possibility of an intervention across the Taurus in Cappadocia was another matter, for the Apamea treaty did not include Cappadocia among the districts closed to Seleucid influence.’111

7. Conclusion Rallying most of the conclusions of Giovannini in 1982, this present contribution advocates for the understanding of the ad Tanaim lectio as it is, and that this Tanais should not be sought elsewhere than where the modern Don flows. As a practical limit, it surely served no purpose at all (as with all the other concurrent hypotheses created by modern scholars), but, as an ideological boundary, it was the best limit possible between the emerging power of Rome in Europe and what was left of the power of the ‘kings of Asia’ (who were soon to become ‘kings of Syria’). For practical purposes, two things were settled at Apamea. First, Antiochus the Great gave up all claims his house held over the heritage of the former kingdom of Lysimachus (and, as such, it renounced any possible claim to future participation with the res Europae). Second, the real frontier between the Seleucid kingdom and the rest of the Western world, whether under Roman control or not, was to be the range of the Taurus mountains. After all, if we are to believe Cicero in his speech for king Deiotarus, this is what was claimed by Antiochus the Great himself:

But, if the crossing of an ‘ideal’ Tanais frontier separating Europe from Asia (which actually meant the entire part of Asia north of the Taurus) were forbidden to the king, then this incident becomes fully explainable.112 Moreover, it appears that in the Roman age (it can be documented during the Julio-Claudian era, which could imply that it was not a novelty but perhaps a continuation of some ancient geographical position), the river Tanais did not flow from the north of the inland area, but somehow followed the same trajectory as the Taurus mountains in Strabo’s view and ran into inner Asia. This is where it served as a sort of barrier between everything that was civilized and the rest of the world, for Quintus Curtius gives quite a long passage showing Alexander the Great pondering before crossing this avatar of the river Tanais (in fact, he mistook the Don for the Sir-Daria), eventually doing so and achieving a much-praised victory over the Sacas.113 It should be noted that Brian Bosworth114 saw an analogy between this adventure of Alexander as told by Quintus Curtius and the campaign of Agricola in Britannia against Calgacus and other Caledonian chieftains, as told by Tacitus.115 Luis Ballesteros Pastor116 bolstered

‘Etenim si Antiochus Magnus ille, rex Asiae, cum, postea quam a L. Scipione deuictus Tauro tenus regnare iussus est, omnem[que] hanc Asiam quae est nunc nostra prouincia amisisset, dicere est solitus benigne sibi a populo Romano esse factum, quod nimis magna procuratione liberatus modicis regni terminis uteretur.’119

Diod. 29, 24 always connected with Pol. fr. 96 (97) = Souda a836 s.v. Akeraios, ex akeraiou: ‘Since the aforementioned king’s timidity and unwillingness to act meant that he was unable to convince them again, he was forced to offer 500 talents. And in fact Seleucus agreed to assist him’ (transl. Olson 2012). 111  Mørkholm 1966: 33-34. 112  Grainger (2015: 6-7) believes that the provisions of the treaty of Apameia had little to do with the restraint shown by Seleucus IV. According to him, what happened in reality was that Pharnakes lost his war faster than the waiting and watching Seleucus was determined to make his move. Cf. also Payen 2016: 186, for a more prudent stance. 113  Curtius, 7, 7, 1-7; 8, 12-30, 9. 114  Bosworth 2004. 115  Tacitus, Agricola, 30-32. 116  Ballesteros-Pastor 2011. 110 

Tacitus, Annales, 12, 5-21; Cassius Dio 60, 8, 2. Ballesteros-Pastor 2011: 45. Cic. Pro rege Dejotaro, XII, 36 (‘Antiochus the Great, king of Asia, when after his defeat at the hands of Lucius Scipio he was compelled to recognize the Taurus as the limit of his realm, and had forfeited all that territory which is to-day our province of Asia, commonly asserted that he had been kindly treated by the Roman people, in that he had been released from a too extensive jurisdiction and his kingdom reduced to reasonable proportions’ (transl. in Watts 1958: 535). 117  118  119 


On the Treaty of Apamea. The territorial clause

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The nature of Attalid katoikiai (188-133 BC) Nicholas Sekunda* The text of Polybius 5.77.7 remains a fundamental crux to our understanding of the nature of katoikiai in Asia Minor during the Hellenistic period. In recounting the campaigns of Attalos I against the Seleucid pretender Achaeus in 218 BC, Polybius describes how the king advanced on ‘the katoikiai of the Mysians’ (τὰ τῶν Μυσῶν κατοικίας). It was traditionally believed that this was a reference to Mysian military colonies. In discussing this passage Louis Robert argued that Polybius is not referring to Mysian military colonies. He noted that in Polybius the word katoikia can mean simply ‘village’ and that in this passage it should be understood in this manner (Robert 1937: 191-194; 1962: 267). If ‘the katoikiai of the Mysians’ are simply to be regarded as Mysian villages, and not as military settlements, then it follows that at this stage in his campaign, that Attalos took a route going through Mysia, but this is perfectly possible. This suggestion appears to have been generally accepted, but few would go as far as the late Getzel Cohen (1995: xii, 168) in stating:1 ‘The term katoikos does designate a military colonist of the second century B.C in Ptolemaic Egypt. In western Asia Minor, however, the katoikiai show no evidence of either a military organization or a Hellenistic origin. Inscriptions from the Hellenistic period that do record the existence of military colonies – that is inscriptions mentioning Macedonians or stratiotai – do not normally use the term katoikia. In the Roman period the term is employed so loosely and vaguely, most often as the equivalent of kome, that one can conclude very little from the use of the term by itself.’ No one would deny that by the Imperial period the term katoikiai is used indiscriminately for all kinds of villages, and not exclusively for foundations which originally were military in character. Nevertheless, Robert merely argued that the words Polybius uses need not necessarily imply that the Mysian katoikiai were military colonies. He does not state that all references to katoikiai in western Asia Minor have to be invariably to civilian settlements also. Despite the arguments of Institute of Archaeology and Ethnology, University of Gdańsk (Poland). 1  A point of view reiterated later by the same author (Cohen 1991: 41-50). The discussion of the epigraphic evidence relating the katoikoi in Bar-Kochva (1976: 24-27) is still useful. *

Robert, in fact terms such as ‘military katoikiai’ continue to appear in works of foremost scholars dealing with the Attalid state (see, e.g., Thonemann (ed.) 2013: 19, 20, 28, 30, 38). In this contribution I will argue that the term katoikiai is used of settlements which, on account of their limited population base, could not afford to maintain gymnasia of their own. The possession of a gymnasion, and with it the ability to train future generations of military personnel, was the fundamental hallmark of the Hellenistic polis. I will confine my discussion of the evidence, which is largely epigraphic, to western Asia Minor under the rule of the Attalid dynasty in the period following the Peace of Apameia (188-133 BC), although I believe the conclusions reached are of a wider geographic and chronological application. A great deal of knowledge has been added to our understanding of the nature of katoikiai by the discovery of two new inscriptions, first published in 1997 and 2007 respectively. Not included in the discussion below is the royal letter of Attalos II to Sosthenes and Heroides in response to a petition of Aribazos, which was found in Pessinous and has been published recently (Avram and Tsetskhladze 2014: 151-181; Ricl 2014: 141-146; Thonemann 2015: 117-128). Whilst this letter contains much interesting information on katoikoi, and their klēroi, it does not contribute to our impression of what was the essential nature of an Attalid katoikia and in what respects it differed from a polis. A letter from King Eumenes II to the Toriaitai An inscription was discovered at Mahmuthisar, a village south of Ilgın, preserving a series of letters, of which three are preserved, from Eumenes II to the community of the Toriaitai endowing them with the status of a polis. As was later pointed out by Thonemann, Mahmuthisar was a significant pilgrimage site during the 15th and 16th centuries, and the stones in question could have easily been transported there from nearby ancient sites as building materials. He suggests that the ancient settlement of Toriaion named in the text, which ‘provides the first evidence that the correct orthography of the city’s name, at least in the later Hellenistic period, was Toriaion’, should be located at the substantial Hellenistic fortress at Kale Tepisi and

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 49–55

Nicholas Sekunda the associated settlement (Thonemann 2008: 43-60, pls. 11-12, at 45-47).

context to mean ‘polis citizenship’) and their own laws and a gymnasion. This is amplified upon later in lines 26-34:

The inscription was first published by Jonnes and Ricl (1997: 1-30), and was subsequently commented on by other scholars (Brixhe 1999: 680-682, no. 509; Schuler 1999: 124-132), whose comments were addressed by Jonnes in a later publication of the inscription in the relevant museum catalogue, from which the English translations cited in this chapter are drawn (Jonnes 2002: 85-89, no. 393). The first editors, Lloyd Jonnes and Marijana Ricl, identified the community, called Toriaitai in the inscription, with the inhabitants of the later city of Tyriaion (Toriaion), and (1997: 13), dated the inscription to the period immediately following the Peace of Apameia (188 BC), when the region of Phrygia Paroreios ceased to be a Seleucid possession and first became an Attalid one. This is supported by lines 21-22 of the inscription which run as follows:

I grant both you and those with you in villages to organize yourselves into one polity and to make your own laws; if you are satisfied with some of these, submit them to us that we may inspect them for anything contrary to our interest; if not, let us know and we will send you the men capable of appointing officials and a council (boulē), of dividing people (dēmos) and assigning them to tribes, of building gymnasia and giving oil for youth (neoi). The meaning of the term ‘those living with you in villages’ (οἱ μεθ’ ὑμῶν συνοικοῦντες ἐν χωρίοις) in lines 26-27 is disputed, but I have essentially followed the interpretation of the later commentators in seeing the people referred to in these words as being indigenous people incorporated into the new community as well as the non-indigenous katoikoi.

as I have full powers by virtue of receiving these from the Romans who prevailed both in war and in treaty; The opening of the first letter preserved in the inscription (lines 1-3) is addressed to a community described as Τοριαιτῶν οἱ κατοικοῦντες. This is not the formula one would have expected. The expected form would have been οἱ ἐν Τοριαίωι κατοικοῦντες or, more usually, οἱ ἐν Τοριαίωι κάτοικοι, but, as has been observed by Jonnes and Ricl (1997: 9) other ‘Hellenistic inscriptions show that the words κατοικοῦντες and κάτοικοι were synonymous’.

This is not, however, important for my argument, but the importance of building gymnasia and providing oil for the neoi is crucial. As well as the award of polis citizenship, and the things that went along with it, such as appointing officials, and councils, and dividing the people up into tribes, this is the difference that marked a polis from a katoikia. In a second letter, this time addressed to the boulē and demos of the Toriaitai, and not to the katoikoi in Toriaion, so after the formation of the city, Eumenes further regulates (in lines 40-49) the supply of oil for the neoi in the gymnasion so as to make it sustainable.

Four members of the community of the Toriaitai are named in the inscription. Two of them bear the personal names Antigenes and Orestes (lines 3, 51), which ‘both have a Macedonian flavour, or at least a north Greek one’. The third has the Gaulish name Brennos (lines 3, 51). It is probable that, as Jonnes and Ricl have pointed out, Brennos was an ethnic Gaul, and (1997: 12) ‘It is hard to imagine what a Gaul would be doing here, unless he was a retired (?) soldier living in a military colony’. In such case we are dealing with a community (or communities) of ‘non-indigenous katoikoi of mixed ethnic origin’ (1997: 11). On the other hand we should not dismiss the possibility that Brennos is a Greek or Macedonian bearing a Gallic name adopted by an earlier generation of his family. The fourth of them bears the name Heliades (Ἡλιάδης line 4). It is listed in the Lexicon of Greek Personal Names once at Athens, in the territory of Byzantion, in Bythinian Nikaia: all of Imperial date, but, interestingly, once at Carian Amyzon and at Pamphylian Aspendos, the latter two occurrences dated to the 2nd century BC.2

King Eumenes to the council and the people of Toriaion, greetings. Since we have granted a polity to you and a gymnasion, we want to make clear our goodwill by increasing our grant, and we give you for the (purchase of) oil the revenue coming from the market director (agoranomia) until Heroides, ‘One and a half ’, examines the matter and earmarks other revenue, from an estate, some land, or anything else he might choose that a tenth of all produce is collected (thereof). The precise significance of that soubriquet borne by Heroides hemiolos (ὁ ἡμιόλιος), or ‘one and a half ’ has been the subject of lengthy discussion (see, initially, Jonnes and Ricl 1997: 24-6; Müller 2005: 355-384), but, again, is not relevant for my argument.3 The importance of the supply of oil in order that the neoi could train in the gymnasion, is, however, emphasised by the fact that

In a first letter (lines 9-11) Eumenes gives to the Toriaitai katoikountes πολιτεία (which I would understand in this 2 

The same Heroides has also been identified as one of the addressees of the new Royal Letter from Pessinous (see Avram and Tsetskhladze 2014: 164; Thonemann 2015: 122). 3 

LGPN II: 203, LGPN IV: 151, LGPN V.A: 199, LGPN V.B: 183.


The Nature of Attalid katoikiai (188-133 BC)

Eumenes took the trouble to send a second letter to the newly formed polis regulating the matter.

the Mysians at Kournoubeudos?’ remarks Thonemann (2011: 24).

A letter from King Eumenes II to Apollonioucharax

In the remaining text of the letter the people of Apollonioucharax are made ateleia (exempted from customs duties?) for five years just as Eumenes had just done for the Mysians at Kadoi. Registration for compulsory military service (katagraphein) will fall only on one man in three. They are to be exempted from the collection of the tithe on produce (dekate) for the current year, and those who pay eisphora (poll-tax?) are also to be exempted for the current year. Face B also is relevant to the privileges to be awarded to the people of Apollonioucharax rather than the Mysian katoikoi in Kournoubeudos.

An inscription containing correspondence between Eumenes II and the community of Apollonioucharax in Lydia was first published by Peter Herrmann(†) and Hasan Malay (2007: 49-58, no. 32; SEG 57 2007: 1150). In what follows I have incorporated the revisions of Peter Thonemann (2011: 19-30), and made use of his translation of the documents concerned. The inscription consists of a letter of Eumenes II carved on face A, and on face B a series of requests of the community of Apollonioucharax. It is uncertain whether face B should be read before face A. More probably face B represents a series of further requests made by the community.

The fact that one in three of the people of Apollonioucharax are to be made liable for compulsory military service is presumably one of the reasons why Thonemann (2013: 20, 30) regards the community as being katoikoi. In explaining to the king why they need financial help to rebuild their houses burned and pulled down in the wall, they refer to themselves (in line B 11) as dēmotai ‘common people’, which Thonemann (2011: 25) understood to mean ‘since we are (poor) villagers’, but this can hardly be taken as a reference to their civic status, rather than their financial possibilities.

The community of Apollonioucharax was previously only known from an inscription found at Ephesus listing the communities of Asia by conventus iuridici (assize communities), where it is listed under Sardis (Habicht 1975: 64-91, especially 74), and its precise location remained unknown.4 This inscription was found at the modern village of Taşkuyucak in the Keçi Dağı mountain range north of Lake Koloe or Gygaia (Marmara Gölü), which presumably locates Apollonioucharax nearby.

The Mysians at Emoddi The land-distributor (ὁ γεωδότες) Lykinos is also mentioned in the text of a votive monument erected to Zeus Beudenos, dated to the 37th year of the reign of Eumenes II (162/1 BC).5

The first letter in the dossier of correspondence is dated to 165/4 BC by its referring to events that took place the previous year, namely desertions from the army, and destruction of a settlement by a hostile army, which are presumably to be connected with the Galatian invasion of Attalid territories which took place in 168-166 BC (Thonemann 2011: 21-2).

Βασιλεύοντος Εὐμένου ἔτους ἕκ̣τ̣ο̣υ κ̣[α]ι̣ τριακοστοῠ, μηνὸς Ἀπελλαίου· οἱ ἐκ Εμοδδι Μυσοὶ ὑπὲ[ρ Λυ]κ̣ί̣ν̣ο̣υ Ἠγησίου γεωδότο[υ εὐεργ]εσίας ἕνεκεν καὶ εὐνοίας [τῆς] ε̣ἰς ἑαυτοὺς Δ̣ιὶ Βευδηνῶι

The letter concerns the Mysian katoikoi in Kournoubeudos (οἰ κατοικοῦντες ἐν τῶι Κουρνουβευδει Μυσοὶ). As was the case in the letter to the community of the Toriaitai discussed above, other ‘Hellenistic inscriptions show that the words κατοικοῦντες and κάτοικοι were synonymous’. Eumenes was intending to relocate the Mysian katoikoi at Kournoubeudos to Kastollos, since fresh land existed there in an uncultivated state, until the inhabitants of Apollonioucharax persuaded him to let them remain where they are, since they had become friendly with them.

In the rule of King Eumenes, in its 37th year, in the month of Apellaios: the Mysians in Emoddi on behalf [of Ly]kinos son of Hegasias the geōdotes on account of his kindness and his goodwill towards them (have erected this) to Zeus Beudenos.

The land-distributor (ὁ γεωδότες) Lykinos, who is mentioned twice in the text (A 12-13, B 23-4) is tasked to [take thought] whence the king might be able to add a further stretch of land to the territory of Apollonioucharax ‘perhaps specifically to accommodate

The inscription was found at the village of Encekler, which presumably coincides with the location of the The dating formula ‘in the fortieth year of Eumenes’ has been found used in another inscription from Hamidiye in the area of Saittai. For a discussion of the implications of this see Petzl 1978: 249276, no. 12, at 263-268; SEG 28 (1978) 902; Robert 1979: no 437; TAM V, 1 no. 486. 5 

Cf. Talbert 2000: 855, where Apolloniacharax is listed under ‘Unlocated toponyms’. 4 


Nicholas Sekunda ancient Emoddi, near the ancient town of Saittai,6 which was located in eastern Lydia. As the word ὁ γεωδότες occurred for the first time here, the original publisher, Hasan Malay (1999: 65-67; SEG 40 1990: 1062), with the help of G. Petzl, was faced with the task of elucidating its meaning. The Etymologicon Magnum,7 quoting Callimachus, has the form:

[ a]nd Phry[gians . . . have been] [rewarded – - – by the s]on of King [Attalos], [the found]er and benefactor, plan[ing beforehand] 4 [the syn]oecizm of the polis a[nd helping [in com]pleting the intention of his brother [King] [Eu]menes, giving [grain and] money to the co-founders, but [besides] 8 contributing to [their safety and] happiness belonging to [it, thanks to enormous goodwill towards them.

Γαιοδόται: οἱ ἀρχιτέκτονες, ἣ οἰκονόμοι·8 παρὰ τὸ δεῖν, ὃ σημαίνει τὸ μερίζειν, οἱ τὴν γῆν διαμερίζοντες, ὅ ἐστι διαγράφοντες εἰς οἰκήματα. Gaiodotai – architects, or house-builders, from dein, which means ‘to divide’, those who allot land, which is laying out the plans for buildings.

In the text given above I follow the restorations of the inscription given in TAM V 2, 1187: 423. Louis Robert (1962: 257-258, n. 5) defends his restoration of lines 6-7 as ἐπιδόντα τ̣[ε σῖτον καὶ] χρήματα τοῖς συνοικισθεῖσιν, citing numerous parallels from similar texts relevant to the foundation or re-foundation of cities. I wonder if, however, on the basis of the letter from Eumenes II to the community of the Toriaitai endowing them with the status of polis, we should not rather have the king giving to the new polis oil, for use of the youth (neoi) in the gymnasion, as well as money. Obviously, we have no way of knowing which word to restore, so I have no wish to stress this point too much.

Given that, in all probability, Lykinos the son of Hegesias the geōdotes had been tasked with finding land in the vicinity of Apollonioucharax for the Mysian katoikoi in Kournoubeudos, it would be reasonable to suppose that Lykinos is being honoured by the Mysians at Emoddi for some similar action. Thonemann (2013: 69) had no hesitation in calling these Mysians in the area of Saittai ‘military colonists’, and it would be reasonable to assume that they were another community of Mysian katoikoi. The synoikism of Apollonis

As to the date and circumstances of this inscription it is, I believe, worthwhile fully quoting the remarks of E.S.G. Robinson (1954: 1-8):

These two, or rather three, new inscriptions enable us to understand more fully a series of inscriptions which have been known for a long time from Apollonis, relating to the founding of the polis. The inscriptions in question have been republished relatively recently in the Austrian Tituli Asiae Minoris series as volume V fascicle 2.9

‘Apollonis was an Attalid foundation as is shown by the name, which is that of the Kyzicene wife of Attalos I. It has been supposed that the town was founded in her honour under Eumenes II or even under his father Attalos I. This is not impossible, but the fact that Attalos II, who was especially devoted to his mother, was honoured as the founder may point out to its establishment in his reign, i.e. as late as 160-159 B.C. or even later. There is otherwise no direct evidence on the point, for the inscription, recording that the city was synoecized by a King Attalos in accomplishment of the plan or intention πρόθεσις King Eumenes, does not exclude the possibility that its realization took place after Eumenes’s death.’

According to the text of the inscription TAM V 2, 1187 a brother of a king Eumenes is referred to as synoikizing a city, which can safely be presumed to be Apollonis from the find-spot built into the wall of a private house in the village of Ballıca. [ κ]α̣ὶ Φρ̣υ̣.[ ἐτίμη] [σαν – - – - υἱ]ὸ̣ω βασιλέως [Ἀττάλου], [τὸν κτίστη]ν καὶ εὐεργέτην, προνο[ήσαντα] 4 [τοῦ συν]ο̣ικισμοῦ τῆς πόλεως κ[αὶ συνεκ[τελέ]σαντα τὴν τοῦ ἀδελφοῦ [βασιλέως] [Εὐ]μένου πρόθεσιν, ἐπιδόντα τ̣[ε σῖτον καὶ] χρήματα τοῖς συνοικισθεῖσιν, ἔ̣[τι δὲ αὐτοῖς καὶ 8 ἄλλα περιποιήσαντα τὰ πρ[ὸς ἀσφάλειαν καὶ] εὐδαιμονίαν ἀνήκον[τα, διὰ τὴν ὑπερφυῆ εἰς] ἑαυτοὺς εὔνοιαν.

The words of Robinson came under robust criticism by Louis Robert (1962: 257-60), who believed there is no good reason to regard the city as having been founded so late. Nevertheless, Robert did not raise any valid criticism to the position of Robinson. Indeed, I believe that good reasons exist to make us believe that the polis was founded even later than the beginning of the reign of Attalos II.

On the name-form and the location of the community of the Saïttai, see TAM V, 2: 29. 7  Gaisford (ed.) 1848: 223, 16-20, col. 641-2. 8  The form οἰκονόμοι was corrected, unnecessarily it seems, to οἰκοδόμοι by O. Schneider. 9  TAM V, 2 = Hermann (ed.) 1989. 6 

The earliest in the series of inscriptions relating to the foundation of Apollonis is TAM V 2, no. 1188, a letter to 52

The Nature of Attalid katoikiai (188-133 BC)

Eumenes II dated to the year 37 of his reign (i.e. 161/0 BC), from the Macedonians from Doidyē, of which only the broken off upper portion survives. Keil and Premerstein (1907: 46) sought to locate the settlement of Doidyē at Kame, but Robert (1962: 28) cast doubts on the validity of this location.10

(Cohen 1991: 46). In other words he considered the Macedonians from […]espoura to have been settled in that location in the 3rd century when Asia Minor was still a Seleucid possession. Dauber, however, has suggested that not only the city of Apollonis, but also those of Attaleia, Eumeneia and Philadelphia, which can be demonstrated to fall into the reigns of Eumenes II and Attalos II, were formed of Macedonian mercenaries who emigrated from Macedonia after the battle of Pydna in 168 BC, and has cited similar cases of emigration from Macedon to the Ptolemaic and possibly the Seleucid kingdoms (Daubner 2011: 41-64, especially 52-53).12 It is my belief that the Macedonians from Doidyē and the Macedonians from […]espoura are both communities of Macedonian soldiers who fled to the Attalid kingdom after the battle of Pydna, and were settled as communities of katoikoi in the region of the future polis of Apollonis.

Βασιλεύοντος Εὐμένου ἔτους ζλ̣ʹ, μηνὸς Περιτίου̣. Οἰ ἐκ Δοιδύης Μακεδόν[ες] In the rule of King Eumenes, in its 37th year, in the month of Peritios, the Macedonians from Doidyē . . . A slightly later inscription in the series is TAM V 2, no. 1190, is a letter to Attalos II dated to year 7 (i.e. 153/3 BC) from the Macedonians from […]espoura under the command of Derdas son of Derkylidas. It was Robert (1962: 32 n. 4, 250, n. 1) who first noted, in the context of this inscription at least, that Derdas is a Macedonian name.11 The inscription was found at the village of Dereköy within the territory of the polis of Apollonis, which presumably is the location of the ancient […] espoura.

It follows that the polis of Apollonis might have been synoecized by Attalos II later even than the Derdas inscription of 153/2 BC. If these Macedonians were, in fact, recruited after Pydna, some 15 years before, it might be thought that they had now reached an age when they were no longer considered fit for active military service. On the other hand, their male offspring would now be reaching the age of compulsory ephebic training, for which the provision of a gymnasium would have been essential. It may have been considerations such as these that motivated Attalos II, after considerable delay, to implement the plan or intention (πρόθεσις) of the late king Eumenes.

Βασιλεύ[ον]τ̣ο̣ς̣ Ἀττάλου ἔτους ζʹ, μηνὸς Ξανδικο[ῦ]. Ο̣[ἰ ἐκ .]εσπούρων Μακεδόνες ὑπὲρ Δέρδου τοῦ Δερκ[υλί]δ̣ο̣υ τοῦ αὑτῶν στρατ[η]γο[ῦ] ἀρετῆς ἕνεκεν κα[ὶ] ̣ εὐδ̣ό̣[ξ]ου ἀ̣ν̣[δ]ραγαθίας, ἧς ἔχω̣ ν διατελεῖ εἴς τε [τ]ὸ̣[ν βασιλ]έα̣ κ̣α̣ὶ̣ ἑα̣υτού[ς].

After the formation of the polis its citizens would begin to refer to themselves as citizens of Apollonis, the ethnic was rendered Ἀπολλωνιδεὐς in Greek,13 and would cease to term themselves as ‘Macedonians from Doidyē’ or ‘Macedonians from […]espoura’. So we might be justified in establishing a terminus post quem of 153/2 BC, the date of the Derdas inscription, for the synoecizm of Apollonis.

In the rule of King Attalos, in its seventh year, in the month of Xandikos. The Macedonians from […]espoura under Derdas the son of Derkylidas their own stratēgos on account of his bravery and the repute of his manly virtue, he has shown continuously towards the King and his kin.

The concept that the population of the future polis of Apollonis might have been drawn from local dispersed settlements of Macedonian colonists was first articulated by Keil and Premerstein, and reiterated by Robert (1962: 32-33) with the following words:

Cohen thought that the phraseology of the two inscriptions ‘almost certainly indicates groups of soldiers or ex-soldiers’. On the other hand, given the difficulty he perceived the Attalids would supposedly have had in recruiting Macedonians in the 2nd century, he believed these inscriptions to supply ‘further – albeit indirect – evidence for Seleucid military colonies’

‘J. Keil et A. von Premerstein ont supposé non sans raison que l’origine de la population d’Apollonis devait être cherchée pour une grande part dans les colons Macédoniens réunis des villages dans la ville nouvelle. A l’appui de cette hypothèse, on peut signaler des noms macédoniens dans les listes éphébiques de la ville: Ἄτταλος, Ἀρειδαί[ου],

Talbert (2000: 856) classes Doide as an unlocated toponym. See also Tataki 1998: 469, no. 2; LGPN IV: 89, no. 5. Launey (1947/1950, vol. I: 321) adds that Derdas is ‘probablement de même race que ses subordonnés’, and he lists him as a Macedonian (Vol. II: 1174). 10  11 

John Ma (in Thonemann [ed.] 2013: 72) noted that Macedonian communities start to appear in the reign of Eumenes II. 13  Cf. TAM V 2: 419. 12 


Nicholas Sekunda Πρεπελαος; le Σαδάλας, père d’un éphèbe, devait descendre d’une famille de mercenaires thraces.’

actions of a Hellenistic king in forming a polis out of dispersed settlements of katoikoi are outlined in detail. Despite difficulties in interpreting the details of this document correctly, it is clear that equally as important as regulating the political life of the community, was the building of gymnasia and giving oil for the neoi to take exercise in it. It seems, therefore, that in the Attalid kingdom between 188 and 133 BC there existed a clear distinction between a polis and a katoikia, and a fundamental difference was that the katoikia, because of the limited size of its population, did not possess a gymnasion.

Later in the same work, Robert added to the Macedonian names Βότρης, and Δρεβέλαος which could either be Macedonian or Illyrian (1962: 246252). One could add to the list of Macedonian names the names Ἀμύντας and Ἰόλαος.14 As for the name Σαδάλας, whilst it is true that it is Thracian, it could have been adopted into a Macedonian military family, for example from a befriended Thracian fellow soldier, and then handed down through generations of the Macedonian recipient family.

The close relationship thus formed between the neoi and the gymnasia and the king is attested to by the fact that the royal cult was particularly practised in the gymnasia, especially by the neoi (Hansen 1947: 422-423). In an earlier period in Asia Minor a letter dating to the summer 213 BC from Antiochus II to the Sardians sets aside 200 metretai of oil a year for the neoi for use in anointment, and sets up specially designated funds to guarantee its supply in the future (Ma 1999: 287-288).

Conclusion In the letter between Eumenes II and the community of Apollonioucharax in Lydia the king promises that registration for compulsory military service (katagraphein) will fall only on one man in three. This makes it fairly clear that an obligation to perform military service was imposed by the Attalid monarchs upon the citizens of the various poleis that fell under their control. We have no idea what obligation for military service was imposed on the katoikoi, but it can be presumed to be more onerous. This may be why, despite the Mysian katoikoi at Kournoubeudos being permitted to remain near Apollonioucharax, because the inhabitants had become friendly with them, there is no talk of enrolling them in the citizen body. The Mysians remained katoikoi without the rights of the citizens of Apollonioucharax. These can be assumed to include the right, and the right of their male offspring, to exercise in the gymnasion. Together with citizenship, obviously, went the obligation of maintaining the gymnasion.

Abbreviations TAM V, 2 = Hermann, P. (ed.) 1989. Tituli Asiae Minoris. Vol. 5, Tituli Lydiae linguis Graeca et Latina conscripti, collecti et editi auspiciis Academiae Litterarum Austriacae ; schedis ab Iosepho Keil elaboratis usus ; enarravit Petrus Herrmann, fasc. 2. Regio septentrionalis ad occidentem vergens. Vienna. Bibliography Avram, A. and Tsetskhladze, G. 2014. A New Attalid Letter from Pessinus. Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 191: 151-181. Bar-Kochva, B. 1976. The Seleucid Army. Organization and Tactics in the Great Campaigns. Cambridge. Cohen, G.M. 1995. The Hellenistic Settlements in Europe, the Islands, and Asia Minor. Berkeley/Los Angeles/ Oxford. Cohen, G.M. 1991. Katoikiai, katoikoi and Macedonians in Asia Minor. Ancient Society 22: 41-50. Daubner, F. 2011. Seleukidische und attalidische Gründungen in Westkleinasien – Datierung, Funktion und Status, in F. Daubner (ed.) Militärsiedlungen und Territorialherrschaft in der Antike (= Topoi, Berlin Studies in the Ancient World, vol. 3): 41-64. Berlin. Gaisford T. (ed.) 1848. Etymologicon Magnum etc.: 223, 1620, col. 641-642. Oxford. Hansen, E.V. 1947. The Attalids of Pergamum: 422-423. Ithaca NY. Herrmann, P. and Malay, H. 2007. New Documents from Lydia: 49-58, no. 32. Vienna. Hopp, J. 1977. Untersuchungen zu den letzten Attaliden. Munich.

In the case of the synoecism of Apollonis, the benefits of retaining the Macedonian katoikoi from Doidyē and […]espoura, recruited some fifteen years earlier, and maybe other katoikiai in the vicinity so far unattested, further in service as katoikoi were clearly outweighed by the benefits derived by the king of founding a new city. Nevertheless the king, as in the case of the Toriaian katoikoi, would have to provide the means for the new polis to function, and this would mean the formation of a gymnasion. The letter from Eumenes II to the Τοριαιτῶν οἱ κατοικοῦντες is the first document in which the TAM V 2: 429 footnote. The personal name Ἰόλαος occurs three times in the ephebic inscription from Apollonis. LGPN IV: 174 lists eight examples of the name Ἰόλαος attested in Macedonia and one in Thrace, as opposed to (LGPN I: 234) one each in Chalkis and Eretria, (LGPN II: 235) three at Athens, (LGPN III.A: 220) one each in Aetolia and Messenia, (LGPN III.B: 207) two in western Locris and one in Thessalian Atrax, (LGPN V.A: 225) two in Bithynia, and in Lydia (apart from the three examples at Apollonis) one example at Magnesia, and one other at Adrymettion in Mysia, and (LGPN V.B: 214) one example from Caria. 14 


The Nature of Attalid katoikiai (188-133 BC)

Jonnes, L. and Ricl, M. 1997. A New Royal Inscription from Phryria Paroreiois: Eumenes II Grants Tyriaion the Status of a polis. Epigraphica Anatolica 29:1-30. Keil, J. and von Premerstein, A. 1907. Bericht über eine Reise in Lydien und der Südlichen Aiolis: Ausgeführt 1906 im auftrage der Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften: (Widmung seiner Durchlaucht des Regierenden Fürsten Johann von und zu Liechtenstein). Vienna. Launey, M. 1947/1950. Recherches sur les Armées hellénistiques (BÉFAR fasc. 169). Paris. Ma, J. 1999. Antiochos III and the Cities of Western Asia Minor. Oxford. Malay, H. 1999. Some Mysians ‘from Emoddi’. Epigraphica Anatolia 16: 65-67. Müller, H. 2005. Hemiolios: Eumenes II., Toriaion und die Finanzorganisation des Alexanderreiches. Chiron 35: 355-84. Petzl, G. 1978. Inscriften aus der Umgebung von Saittai (1) (Encekler, Hamidiye, Ayazviran). Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 30: 249-276. Ricl, M. 2014. A New Royal Letter from Pessinus: Some Corrections and Suggestions. Epigraphica Anatolica 47: 141-146.

Robert, L. 1937. Études anatoliennes, recherches sur les inscriptions greques de l’Asie mineure. Paris. Robert, L. 1962. Villes d’Asie Mineure, études de géographie ancienne (2nd edn). Paris. Robinson, E.S.G. 1954. Cistophoroi in the name of King Eumenes. Numismatic Chronicle ser. 6, no. 16: 1-8. Talbert, R.J.A. (ed.) 2000. Barrington Atlas of the Greek and Roman World Map-by-Map Directory Volume II: 855. Apolloniacharax ‘Unlocated toponyms’. Princeton/ Oxford. Tataki, A.B. 1998. Macedonians Abroad. A Contribution to the Prosopography of Ancient Macedonia. ΜΕΛΕΤΕΜΑΤΑ 26. Athens. Thonemann, P. 2008. Cistophoric Geography: Toriaion and Kormasa. Numismatic Chronicle 168: 43-60, pls. 11-12. Thonemann, P. 2011. Eumenes II and Apollonioucharax. Gephyra 8: 19-30. Thonemann, P. 2013. Attalid Asia Minor. Money, International Relations and the State. Oxford. Thonemann, P. 2015. Pessinous and the Attalids: a New Royal Letter. Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 194: 117-128.


Les Thraces et Lyciens en Phrygie Parorée aux époques hellénistique et romaine *

Hadrien Bru** En Phrygie Parorée, d’après les inscriptions et les monnaies, deux cités affirment la présence de « colons lyciens et thraces  » au sein de leur histoire et de leur territoire  : Apollonia de Pisidie (anciennement Mordiaion) et Neapolis de Phrygie (près du lac Karalis, le lac de Beyşehir). Une inscription d’Apamée de Phrygie au moins évoque ces «  colons thraces et lyciens », alors qu’à Antioche de Pisidie nous trouvons plusieurs attestations épigraphiques et numismatiques d’une anthroponymie thrace, au plus tard au Ier siècle av. J.-C., sachant que la plupart des documents qui seront évoqués ici datent plutôt du Haut-Empire (IIe et IIIe siècles). Suite à de nombreux questionnements depuis le XIXe siècle, il s’agit de découvrir d’où vint le premier noyau de ces colons, quand et dans quelles circonstances ils furent installés, mais aussi par quelle autorité politique. C’est une approche croisée de l’espace territorial, de la géopolitique régionale, des contextes socio-culturels et de la volonté politique des pouvoirs centraux qui permet de répondre à ce problème historique. À Apollonia de Pisidie À la suite d’un certain nombre d’historiens, dont S. Mitchell, G.M. Cohen proposa un point documenté sur la question des « colons lyciens et thraces » d’Apollonia Mordiaion conjointement attestés par l’épigraphie et la numismatique (Cohen 1995: 287-289).1 Les Cette contribution a déjà été publiée en tant que chapitre“Les Thraces et Lyciens en Phrygie Parorée aux époques hellénistique et romaine” dans : H. Bru,  La Phrygie Parorée et la Pisidie septentrionale aux époques hellénistique et romaine: Géographie historique et sociologie culturelle, Mnemosyne Suppl.  History and Archaeology of Classical Antiquity 401, Leiden-Boston, Brill, 2017, p. 31-61. Avec nos remerciements à Brill Academic Publishers pour l’autorisation de reproduction du texte en question. ** Université de Bourgogne-Franche Comté, Institut des Sciences et Techniques de l’Antiquité (Besançon). 1  Plus récemment, voir aussi l’approche synthétique, onomastique et thracologique de D. Dana (2011: 87-115, spécialement 107-109), lequel ne se prononce pas sur l’occasion de la venue des Thraces en Phrygie Parorée, en préférant simplement évoquer l’époque d’Alexandre le Grand, ce qui n’est pas satisfaisant pour la région concernée, très active sous les Séleucides et les Attalides. Sur le recrutement et l’origine géographique des Thraces dans les armées hellénistiques, voir p. 90-101, sachant que la conclusion principale de l’auteur est que la grande majorité des Thraces des armées hellénistiques étaient issus de Macédoine orientale (à l’Est de l’Axios) et, d’une manière générale, des «  territoires de confins avec les cités grecques  » (p. 100). Sans surprise, la documentation épigraphique et papyrologique confirme la grande proximité historique et militaire entre Thraces et Macédoniens depuis Alexandre le Grand (p. 114). *

ethniques figurant sur les monnaies d’Apollonia ont été récemment collectés par W. Leschhorn (2009: 59), mais quelques remarques s’imposent concernant la numismatique de la cité sise dans la haute vallée de l’Hippophoras, son « dieu-fleuve ». Chronologiquement, les monnaies d’Apollonia de Pisidie faisant mention de Thraces ou de Lyciens commencent avec la seule mention de  ΑΠΟΛΛΩΝΙΑΤΩΝ ΛΥΚΙΩΝ manifestement à l’époque de Titus (79-81 ap. J.-C.) (von Aulock 1979: 56, n° 64-65), les seuls «  Apolloniates Lyciens  » étant de même donnés par les légendes (avec ou sans abréviation) sous Hadrien (von Aulock 1979: 56, n° 6669), Antonin le Pieux (von Aulock 1979: 56, n° 70-71), Faustine l’Aînée (von Aulock 1979: 56, n° 72-74), MarcAurèle César (entre 139 et 161) (von Aulock 1979: 57, n° 75-82). Ce n’est qu’à partir des monnaies montrant Marc-Aurèle Auguste (entre 161 et 180) qu’apparaît la mention abrégée des « colons thraces » avec la mention ΑΠΟΛΛΩΝΙΑΤΩΝ ΛΥΚΙΩΝ ΘΡΑ ΚΟΛΩΝΩΝ (von Aulock 1979: 57, n° 83-88), d’ailleurs en alternance avec la seule mention des « colons lyciens » (von Aulock 1979: 58, n° 89-93). Ensuite ces derniers sont légendés seuls sur les monnaies de Lucilla (von Aulock 1979: 58, n° 94-95) et de Commode César (entre 166 et 177) (von Aulock 1979: 58, n° 96-101), avant que ne réapparaisse la mention des « colons thraces » sous Septime Sévère (entre 193 et 211) (von Aulock 1979: 58-59, n° 102-110), Caracalla (entre 198 et 217 a priori) (von Aulock 1979: 59-60, n° 113-117, 124-125), en toutes lettres ΑΠΟΛΛΩΝΙΑΤΩΝ ΛΥΚΙΩΝ ΘΡΑΚΩΝ ΚΟΛΩΝΩΝ sous Philippe l’Arabe (entre 244 et 249) (von Aulock 1979: 60, n° 135), la plupart du temps avec la mention des «  colons thraces  » (von Aulock 1979: 60-61, n° 135-148), enfin sous Gallien (entre 253 et 268) (von Aulock 1979 Münzen II, pp. 62-63, n° 157206).2 Comme on l’aura compris, les « colons lyciens » qui apparaissent bien avant les «  colons thraces  » sur les monnaies d’Apollonia de Pisidie, dès l’époque flavienne, sont systématiquement cités en premier sur les légendes monétaires comme dans les inscriptions (cf. infra), et ils sont régulièrement cités seuls (contrairement aux « colons thraces »), notamment sur les frappes de membres des familles impériales autres que les empereurs véritablement en charge.3 Pour les Des mentions de «  colons lyciens  » seuls s’intercalent en outre dans les frappes, nous n’en donnons pas le détail ici. 3  C’est par exemple le cas sur les monnaies de Lucilla, Iulia Domna, Géta et Otacilia, qui ne mentionnent apparemment que les « colons lyciens  ». Il vient à l’esprit qu’Antigone le Borgne fut chargé par 2 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 56–71

Les Thraces et Lyciens en Phrygie Parorée aux époques hellénistique et romaine

raisons qui précèdent, sans doute peut-on conclure que les « colons lyciens » étaient plus influents et/ou plus nombreux ou plus honorés que les « colons thraces » à Apollonia.

part (von Aulock 1979: 53-54, n° 21-23; Franke & Nollé 1997: 13 et taf. 8, n° 70), enfin entre la cité et la Lycie (von Aulock 1979: 54, n° 24-33). Si ces monnaies célébrant la personnification hellénique de la Concorde datent bien de Caracalla, on pourrait éventuellement y percevoir des conséquences des tensions qui se manifestèrent en Asie Mineure à l’occasion de la guerre civile de 193194 entre Pescennius Niger et Septime Sévère, les cités ayant alors régulièrement choisi des partis différents. Cela dit, soulignons qu’une monnaie datant de Philippe l’Arabe célèbre également l’Homonoia entre Apollonia de Pisidie et Pergè (von Aulock 1979: 60-61, n° 136). Il est néanmoins possible qu’Apollonia de Pisidie ait pour partie cherché à se concilier les faveurs de Caracalla lorsqu’on se souvient que l’empereur affichait un goût marqué pour la figure d’Alexandre le Grand,5 mais aussi pour Ilion, où il se rendit en pèlerinage sur les traces des héros achéens.6 Lorsqu’on rapproche les monnaies d’Apollonia des passages d’Hérodien évoqués, il est tangible que la cité ait à sa manière préparé en 215 la venue de l’empereur dans la région, annoncée de longue date,7 en affichant sa sympathie pour la mythique Ilion. La double célébration, sous Caracalla et Philipe l’Arabe, de l’Homonoia avec la vénérable Pergè ne surprend pas, car il était important pour une cité de l’arrière-pays phrygo-pisidien d’entretenir de bonnes relations avec la ville la plus puissante de Pamphylie occidentale (aux côtés d’Attaleia), puisque la plaine littorale constituait un accès naturel vers la mer Méditerranée orientale.8 Or on sait par l’épigraphie que pour les mêmes motifs, Antioche de Pisidie cultivait ses relations avec Pergè et Attaleia par le prisme des réseaux clientélaires créés autour de familles influentes au sein des trois cités en question.9 Dans tous les cas de figure, il convenait de tisser et de ménager de solides liens entre la Phrygie Parorée continentale et une Pamphylie littorale assurant des débouchés politiques, commerciaux et militaires. Bien que nous n’en connaissions pas les détails contextuels précis, l’Homonoia entre les « Apolloniates » et les « Lyciens »

La datation et donc le contexte historique de l’apparition des formulaires évoquant les colons lyciens et thraces sur les monnaies des Apolloniates méritent quelques rapides commentaires. Existe-t-il un rapport entre l’apparition de la mention des «  colons lyciens  » sur les monnaies de Titus et le redécoupage administratif et régional provisoire que connut la récente province romaine de Lycie-Pamphylie vers cette époque  ? (cf. notamment Syme 1995: 179, 190-191, 274-277; Mitchell 1993: 153-155 et supra) À vrai dire, outre la question d’une affirmation identitaire, historique et culturelle dont il sera question plus loin, la mention des colons lyciens et thraces donne l’impression d’une volonté de reconnaissance, de valorisation et en quelque sorte de mobilisation de ces communautés d’origine militaire, à des époques de tensions marquées et de guerres bien connues. Il en va ainsi de l’apparition de la mention des « colons thraces » sous le règne de Marc-Aurèle, c’est-àdire au moment de la grande guerre parthique et ensuite des terribles guerres danubiennes : d’une part on peut comprendre que le pouvoir impérial des Antonins ait compté sur le soutien des Thraces, d’où qu’ils fussent, dans les campagnes contre les Quades, les Marcomans et les Sarmates, d’autre part on sait que les Thraces fournirent de nombreux et puissants contingents dans les guerres romaines, en Orient comme en Occident, sachant que la Phrygie Parorée se trouvait sur une grande route militaire en vue d’accéder aux confins occidentaux de l’empire parthe. L’observation que l’on peut formuler ensuite sous Septime Sévère, Caracalla, Philippe l’Arabe ou Gallien est du même ordre, peut-être avec encore davantage d’acuité, dans l’enchaînement des graves épisodes militaires entre la fin du IIe siècle et le deuxième tiers du IIIe siècle  : guerres parthicomésopotamiennes de Septime Sévère et Caracalla, guerre danubienne de Philippe l’Arabe contre les Carpes, guerres rhénanes germaniques de Gallien, sans évoquer les guerres civiles qui exigeaient une fidélité maximale des troupes les plus aguerries autour des empereurs régnants.

Hérodien, IV, 8, 1-3. «  Une fois qu’il se fut occupé de l’armée du Danube, Antoninus descendit en Thrace, pays voisin de la Macédoine. Aussitôt il y fut un second Alexandre. » (IV, 1, 1, trad. D. Roques). 6  Hérodien, IV, 8, 3-6. Voir aussi Dion Cassius, LXXVIII, 16, 7. 7  Voir Halfmann 1986: 224, 227-229. F. Rebuffat (1986: 65-71) date les Alexandres d’Apollonia du tout début du IIIe siècle (vers 202) en invoquant le fait que les monnaies ayant permis à H. von Aulock (1979: 52 et 60, n° 118-121) de dater les premières du règne de Caracalla grâce à leurs revers identiques portent au droit une tête imberbe de Caracalla jeune, juste après son accession à l’Augustat, mais cela n’est à mon sens pas nécessairement probant dans la mesure où l’atelier monétaire de la cité a très bien pu réutiliser les mêmes coins de revers un peu plus tard, vers 215. 8  Une inscription de Pergè montre en outre des liens de cette dernière cité avec Akmoneia (Phrygie) et Apollonia de Pisidie au moins depuis le Ier siècle de notre ère par l’entremise de la famille des Iulii Cornuti, dont Iulia Severa : voir Bru et al. 2016: 65-72, n° 1. 9  On pourrait par exemple citer les Iulii Aspri et Iulia Sancta à Antioche de Pisidie et Attaleia : cf. SEG, 17, 581; Robert et Robert 1948: 202, n° 23 ; CIG, 4340 = Le Bas et Waddington 1870: n° 1360 = IGR, III, 773, à Magydos exactement, cf. Adak et Atvur 1999: 62-64, n° 2 = SEG, 49, 1883, ou la gens Plancia à Antioche de Pisidie et Pergè. 5 

Notons au passage que certaines monnaies d’Apollonia de Pisidie, que H. von Aulock date de l’époque de Caracalla en raison d’un coin de revers récurrent (von Aulock 1979: 52), honorent, avec au droit Alexandre le Grand, l’Homonoia entre la cité et Pergè d’une part (von Aulock 1979: 53, n° 14-20; Franke & Nollé 1997: 14, n° 73-80 et taf. 9, n° 73, 76, 79),4 entre la cité et Ilion d’autre Alexandre de la Lycie et de la Grande Phrygie vers 331-330, la Milyade ayant précédemment appartenu à la satrapie de Grande Phrygie avant d’être rattachée à la Lycie par les Achéménides (Arrien, Anabase, I, 24, 5) ; Antigone a levé des soldats en Lycie ; cf. Briant 1973: 75-76, 78, mais nous n’en savons pas davantage. 4  Des frappes analogues eurent également lieu sous Philippe l’Arabe (ibid., p. 14, et taf. 9, n° 81).


Hadrien Bru peut également bien s’expliquer, car d’abord non seulement une partie des colons d’Apollonia semble être d’origine lycienne, mais ces derniers paraissent avoir été politiquement les plus influents dans la cité, ensuite la Lycie était une région méridionale voisine de la Phrygie-Pisidie, spécialement par les régions intermédiaires multiculturelles qu’étaient la Milyade10 et la Kibyratide.11 À ces attestations numismatiques, il convient de verser au dossier documentaire une dédicace inédite trouvée à Apamée de Phrygie honorant d’une statue d’Homonoia12 l’amitié et la concorde entre la cité et Apollonia de Pisidie (cf. infra), probablement au IIIe siècle, à l’époque de Caracalla.

milite en ce sens, même si le souverain séleucide refondateur fut un successeur (voir Cohen 1995: 286), tel Antiochos Ier.16 Le fait qu’Apollonia de Pisidie soit peu citée dans les sources littéraires17 renvoie à la réalité historique d’une cité qui se développa dans l’ombre de deux puissantes concurrentes  régionales  : Apamée-Kelainai (à une trentaine de kilomètres à l’Ouest) et Antioche de Pisidie (à environ 70 km au Nord-Est).18 Pourtant Apollonia joua un rôle stratégique d’importance dans le dispositif militaire mis en place par les Séleucides,19 puisqu’elle contrôlait la passe de Çapalı permettant de communiquer d’Ouest en Est entre Apamée de Phrygie et la haute vallée du Méandre d’une part, Antioche de Pisidie et l’intérieur de la Phrygie Parorée d’autre part. On peut donc comprendre qu’à partir du Ier siècle de notre ère et plus encore aux IIe et IIIe siècles, la cité ait choisi de se singulariser en affirmant son identité culturelle et historique grâce au formulaire Ἀπολλωνιατῶν Λυκίων Θρακῶν κολώνων. D’un point de vue géographique et symbolique, ajoutons qu’au cœur de l’époque impériale, Apollonia de Pisidie choisit par ce formulaire comme par la co-célébration civique d’Homonoia de s’ancrer avec ostentation dans d’autres régions que la sienne, en Lycie, en Thrace, en Troade, en Pamphylie, ainsi que dans sa propre contrée, la Phrygie Parorée.

Mordiaion donne l’impression d’une toponymie culturellement phrygienne,13 dont le noyau civique a probablement été refondé par les Séleucides après la bataille de Kouropedion (281 av. J.-C.) sous le nom d’Apollonia, par exemple en référence à l’une des divinités protectrices de la dynastie. Le culte de [Zeus] ou [Théos] Νεικάτωρ tardivement attesté (IIe siècle de notre ère) par une inscription découverte à Büyükkabaca14 sur le territoire d’Apollonia de Pisidie15 Liée à l’histoire très ancienne de la Lycie (Hérodote, 1, 173  ; Strabon, 12, 8, 5). 11  Sur cela, voir par exemple dans R. Syme (1995: 177-192) le chapitre intitulé « Pisidia and the Milyas », qui pose les problèmes essentiels dans l’étude de la région. Au surplus, comme le rappelle l’auteur (p. 185), Pline l’Ancien (NH, 5, 95) affirme que la population de la Milyade était constituée, au moins en partie, de « descendants des Thraces » («  Thracum suboles  »). Sans doute faut-il rapprocher cette assertion d’une inscription découverte en trois parties à une trentaine de kilomètres au Sud-Ouest de Burdur (dans la vallée du Lysis, près des villages de Kozluca et Boğaziçi), en Milyade, laquelle est une dédicace à Rome et à Auguste effectuée par les Milyadeis, des negotiatores romains et les Θρᾷκες οἱ κατοικοῦντες en 5-4 av. J.-C. : cf. Hall 1986: 137-140, n° 1 = SEG, 36, 1207 = I. Burdur, 328). 12  Sur le rôle politique et symbolique d’Homonoia dans les cités grecques, voir Sheppard 1984-1986: 229-252; Thériault 1996; Franke & Nollé 1997. 13  Notamment en raison du suffixe – άειον, – αιον, cf. Zgusta 1984: 367, § 771 et p. 396-397, § 837-1, 837-2 (ensuite abrégé KON). Par ailleurs, l’anthroponyme Μορδιος (précédé du gentilice impérial Aurelios) est attesté à Apamée de Phrygie (Ramsay 1895-1897: 473, n° 325), en latin à Antioche de Pisidie avec le gentilice de L. Mordius Threptianus pour un sévir (Robinson 1926: 237, n° 75-76; Zgusta 1964: 332, § 963-2 ; ensuite abrégé KPN), voir aussi le cognomen de Γ[ά]ιος Κατώνιος Μορδιανός dans une liste de noms du IIIe siècle de notre ère découverte au village turc de Gundani, au Nord du territoire d’Antioche de Pisidie (précisément au Nord du lac Hoyran, à 25 km au Sud-Ouest de Synnada, cf. Robert et Robert 1972: 381, n° 84 ; cf. aussi Ramsay 1906: 320-321, n° 2, lignes 17-18 ; ensuite abrégé SERP) non loin de Mısırlı et surtout de Sağır qui a livré des listes de xenoi tekmoreioi (WE, p. 233, n° 366, ligne 17 ; Zgusta 1964: 332, § 963-3). À Antioche de Pisidie, on rencontre également Fl. Mordius dans une inscription grecque (Robinson 1926: 221, n° 43; SEG, 6, 587). 14  MAMA, IV, 226 = SEG, 6, 592. Il est essentiel de noter que de l’autre côté du massif du Barla Dağ, à Seleukeia Sidera, le culte de Zeus Nikatôr est attesté sur le territoire d’une authentique fondation civique séleucide (Özsait et al. 2010 : 85-87, n° 4). Voir carte. 15  Büyükkabaca se situe à environ 18 km à l’Est du site d’Apollonia (moderne Uluborlu), sur les contreforts méridionaux du Karakuş Dağ, face à Tymandos (moderne Yassıören), dont le site se trouve dans la même vallée, plus au Sud-Ouest, sur les contreforts septentrionaux du Barla Dağ. Au moment où la dédicace de la statue à Nikatôr (MAMA, IV, 226) fut réalisée, toute la grande vallée orientée OuestEst entre Apollonia et le lac d’Eğirdir appartenait au territoire de la cité, Tymandos n’acquérant le statut de civitas autonome que sous 10 

Plusieurs inscriptions découvertes sur le territoire d’Apollonia de Pisidie attestent de l’utilisation du formulaire/titre Ἀπολλωνιατῶν Λυκίων Θρακῶν κολώνων entre le milieu du Ier siècle et le milieu du IIIe siècle de notre ère.20 Cette appellation apparaît néanmoins ailleurs, dans un décret d’Antioche de Pisidie à Aphrodisias de Carie entre 161 et 169 de notre ère,21 mais aussi dans un texte inédit d’Apamée de Phrygie, sachant qu’une inscription incomplète de Tralles sur marbre mentionnait éventuellement au Dioclétien (cf. WE, p. 384-387, n° 558; CIL, III, 6866; ILS, 6090; MAMA, IV, 236 ; Bru et al. 2009: 187-207, avec cartes p. 188). 16  On notera également l’attestation de l’anthroponyme Νεικάτωρ à Olbasa aux IIe-IIIe siècles (SEG, 48, 1547), ce dernier étant fils d’Αἰσχρίων, un nom essentiellement attesté, pour l’Anatolie, en Ionie, Lydie, Mysie et Troade, mais plus rarement ailleurs. 17  Strabon, 12, 6, 4 ; 12, 8, 13 ; Athénée, 3, 81a ; Stéphane de Byzance, s.v. « Apollonia 17 » et « Apollonia 18 ». 18  Voir carte. 19  Lesquels créèrent un arc de places fortes circonscrivant le Nord de la Pisidie avec Apamée de Phrygie, Seleukeia Sidera, Apollonia et Antioche de Pisidie, Laodikeia Katakekaumene : voir Grainger 1990: 186; Cohen 1995: 57, 290. 20  Voir Anderson 1898: 98-99, n° 40, texte dans lequel les Thraces de la cité apparaissent sans les Lyciens (aux lignes 15-16), en l’an 143 (= a priori 58 ap. J.-C. d’après l’ère syllanienne d’Apollonia) ; la borne de délimitation du territoire d’Apollonia trouvée à la passe de Çapalı datable de la fin du règne d’Hadrien en 134-135, seul texte où l’on trouve la titulature avec la conjonction entre Lyciens et Thraces sous la forme Ἀπολλωνιατῶν Λυκίων καὶ Θρακῶν κολώνων (Ramsay 1890: 171-173 ; IGR, III, 324 = SEG, 37, 1100) ; la base d’une statue dédiée à Caracalla (Anderson 1898: 95-96, n° 35 ; IGR, III, 314 ; MAMA, IV, 147), plus tard celle dédiée au procurateur impérial Aurelios Apollonios (CIG, 3969 = IGR, III, 317 = MAMA, IV, 150) ou à son épouse Aurelia Antonia (CIG, 3970 = Le Bas et Waddington 1870: n° 1195). 21  CIG, 2811b ; MAMA, VIII, 421.


Les Thraces et Lyciens en Phrygie Parorée aux époques hellénistique et romaine

Carte: La Phrygie Parorée et le Taurus méridional.


Hadrien Bru moins les « [Apollonia]tes Lyciens », peut-être dès les IIe-Ier siècles avant notre ère.22 Une dédicace inédite d’Apamée de Phrygie célèbre par l’érection d’une statue d’Homonoia l’entente, l’amitié et le souvenir entre la cité et les Apolloniates Lyciens et Thraces, manifestement vers l’époque de Caracalla si l’on s’en réfère à la paléographie23 et au contexte historique éclairé par la numismatique. Bien que brisée et incomplète, on devine que la pierre supportant le texte en dépôt dans les locaux de la municipalité de Dinar est une colonne qui dut servir de base à la statue d’Homonoia (L. 10). L’entente entre les Apaméens (L. 2) et les colons Apolloniates Lyciens et Thraces (L. 4-6) est en jeu dans cet important texte où ces derniers honorent les premiers cités, d’une statue, comme Lystra,24 Tavium (voir Calder 1912: 84-86, n° 3), ou Klaudioseleukeia (Drew-Bear et Labarre 2002: 71-92, n° 3)25 le firent avec la puissante Antioche de Pisidie (cf. infra) plus à l’Est. Par la formule « de bon augure » (L. 9),26 les Apolloniates paraissent garantir les arrières des Apaméens vers l’Est, en engageant leur amitié éternelle (L. 7-8), alors que la borne de délimitation territoriale découverte dans la passe de Çapalı et datant de 134-135 ap. J.-C.27 laisse deviner que les relations entre les deux cités ne furent sans doute pas toujours très cordiales. Dans ce document honorifique, le dèmos intervient à deux reprises (L. 3 et 6), ainsi qu’un épimélète nommé Χαρῖνος (L. 11-12). La paléographie comme la documentation numismatique d’Apollonia évoquée précédemment nous conduisent à dater cette célébration de l’Homonoia au IIIe siècle de notre ère, peut-être sous le règne de Caracalla.

une inscription du IIIe siècle de notre ère.31 Non loin à l’Ouest d’Apollonia enfin, il faut évoquer l’origine thrace probable du toponyme Aulutrène,32 lieu de la haute vallée du Méandre, près de ses sources devenues mythiques, sur le territoire d’Apamée de Phrygie.33 Cependant, le fait que nous n’ayons à notre connaissance pas de mention du toponyme dans les sources littéraires grecques, ni dans les sources littéraires latines avant le milieu du Ier siècle de notre ère34 invite à voir en «  Aulutrène  » une appellation relativement tardive. Les vestiges du castellum identifié dans cette zone près de la stratégique passe de Çapalı offrent en outre au IIIe siècle deux noms de soldats d’origine thrace qui appartenaient à une vexillatio dirigée par un primipilaire praepositus à la tête de ce détachement de fantassins issus des légions XIe Claudia et Ière Italica35 alors basées dans les régions danubiennes, en Mésie Inférieure, à Durostorum pour la première citée, à Novae pour la seconde  :36 Mucatr(a)l(is) Dolei (cf. Detschew 1957: 145-147, 317-319; Dana 2014: 241) et Aurelius Tarsa (cf. D. Detschew 1957: 492-494; Dana 2014: 348) durent être recrutés au sein de la XIe Claudia dans l’arrière-pays de la Thrace comme il était fréquent vers cette époque (Christol et Drew-Bear 1987: 37 et n. 88), à l’instar d’Aurelius Buris (cf. D. Detschew 1957: 82; Christol et Drew-Bear 1987: 55 et discussion n. 199; Dana 2014: 72) et d’Aurelius Auluzenus,37 connus par une épitaphe latine découverte à Dinar (Christol et Drew-Bear 1987: 55-56, n° 10). À Neapolis de Phrygie Dans la plaine Killanienne, la cité de Neapolis fut manifestement fondée à l’époque hellénistique, d’après une importante inscription de Rhodes donnant textuellement Νεαπολίτας τᾶς ἀπὸ Φρυγίας comme ethnique à Μενίσκος Μεννέα38 sur sa stèle funéraire.39  Cette cité proche des rives du Nord-Est

Les documents évoqués confirment donc solidement l’implantation de colons thraces à Apollonia de Pisidie, ce à quoi on pourrait ajouter l’anthroponyme thrace Αυλοσιος28 (père de Tatia) attesté dans un texte d’Uluborlu,29 peut-être aussi à Yassıören (Tymandos),30 en plus de la remarque de L. Robert concernant l’origine thrace éventuelle du nom  Ζουλάκιος dans

MAMA, IV, 221 (= WE n° 555). Lorsqu’il évoque Apollonia de Pisidie (p. 356-360), L. Robert (1963: 360) s’appuie sur des rapprochements onomastiques (Detschew 1957: 194). 32  Voir Kretschmer 1896: 202; Detschew 1957: 35; Zgusta 1984: 109111, § 120, et la discussion complète dans Christol et Drew-Bear 1987: 43-46, avec les références utiles ; les attestations du toponyme « Aulutrène » (souvent avec des altérations issues de leçons variables provenant des manuscrits) émanent des sources littéraires latines, non des sources grecques. La forme Aulutre(nae) est attestée par une inscription militaire latine du castellum gardant la passe de Çapalı (ibid., p. 34, n° 6, ligne 9) entre Apamée et Apollonia. 33  Sur cela, cf. Christol et Drew-Bear 1987: 9 (carte de C. Naour), 2729; Nollé 2006: 49-131; Zwingmann 2011: 96-99; Ivantchik et al. 20082010: 137-177. 34  Pline l’Ancien, N.H., 5, 106 et 113; 16, 240. 35  Voir Ritterling, RE XII/2 (1925) s.v. Legio, col. 1407-1417, 1690-1705. 36  Christol et Drew-Bear 1987: 34-42, n° 6. Les deux soldats d’origine thrace détachés de la XIe légion Claudia sont cités aux lignes 13 et 14 de cette inscription latine. 37  Et non « Auluzanus » (Dana 2014: 21). Cf. Detschew 1957: 35-37. 38  Sur le nom grec Μεννέας, très courant en Galatie, Phrygie, Pisidie, Lycaonie, voir Zgusta 1964: 310, § 900 et 693-694. 39  Maiuri 1925: 73, n° 97, avec le commentaire détaillé de Robert 1938: 260-265 (264, n. 2 pour la paléographie hellénistique du texte) ; sur Neapolis, voir en outre Robert 1962: 414-415. 31 

« Funde », MDAI (Athenische Mitteilungen), 26, 1901, p. 238, n° 2 = I. Tralleis 31; cf. Cohen 1995: 287. 23  Cf. par exemple le omikron en forme de losange, commun au IIIe siècle, notamment en Paphlagonie. Pour une gravure du même type, en latin (O en forme de losange) sur un milliaire de l’époque d’Élagabale (et non de Caracalla) découvert près d’Apollonia de Pisidie (à Küçükkabaca), voir Özsait et al. 2011: 275-276, n° 12 (avec photographies, p. 287, fig. 15). 24  OGIS, 536 ; IGR, III, 302. 25  Cf. SEG, 52, 1367. 26  La formulation grecque convient d’autant mieux qu’elle semble s’accorder avec le présage favorable des oiseaux venant de la droite des observateurs regardant le Nord, c’est-à-dire de l’Est (cf. par exemple Homère, Iliade, XIII, v. 821  ; Odyssée, II, v. 154), où se situe Apollonia de Pisidie par rapport à Apamée de Phrygie. 27  IGR, III, 324 = SEG, 37, 1100. 28  Cf. Beševliev 1970: 41; Dana 2014: 13, 16 (ensuite abrégé OnomThrac). 29  MAMA, IV, 206. Pour ce nom, cf. aussi à Neapolis MAMA, VIII, 367 (voir infra). 30  WE, p. 398, n° 580. La fin du nom manque, et l’on pourrait tout aussi bien songer à restituer Αυλο[υκενθος] (MAMA, VIII, 367, à Neapolis de Phrygie, donne la forme Αυλουκεντου) ou Αυλο[υζελμις] : e.g. NIA, p. 29, n° 27, ligne 1, à Antioche de Pisidie. 22 


Les Thraces et Lyciens en Phrygie Parorée aux époques hellénistique et romaine

du lac de Beyşehir40 était également habitée par des Thraces, comme nous l’indiquent plusieurs inscriptions dévoilant une onomastique caractéristique. Ainsi à Kıyakdede la stèle-porte de Μοκαπορις,41 fils de Gaius,42 nous a laissé le témoignage d’une mixité culturelle entre éléments thraces et latins. À Şarkikaraağaç, on a découvert un autel de Δορζινθης43 fils de Σκαρις pour son père Σκαρις, fils de Σκαρις  :44 l’acte de piété filiale exprimé dans ce cas est de type gréco-romain, mais le milieu social est clairement celui de Thraces hellénisés ayant sciemment conservé une onomastique traditionnelle liée à leurs origines culturelles. Non loin de là, à Çarıksaray, une inscription offre un regard sur une famille culturellement mixte d’après l’onomastique grecque, latine et thrace qui y apparaît, avec Σεύθης,45  Αυλοσιος et  Αυλουκεντος.46 À ces attestations de la présence culturelle thrace à Neapolis de Phrygie, il convient bien sûr de joindre celle figurant à Şarkikaraağaç sur l’entablement d’un temple dédié par les [--- Θ]ρακῶν κολώνων, le début de l’inscription étant perdu.47 Sur ce point, il est sage de ne pas compléter la «  titulature  » de ces colons comme l’ont fait les éditeurs du volume VIII des MAMA, en s’en tenant à ce que la pierre a conservé comme texte (Robert 1965: 93).

En complément de ces attestations, on peut à mon sens ajouter pour des raisons contextuelles et identitaires la dédicace latine de Şarkikaraağaç mentionnant l’expression ciuitas Cillanensiun (sic)48  parce qu’il s’agit selon le texte d’une rare base de statue dédiée en 236 à Maximus, fils de l’empereur Maximin le Thrace (Kienast 1996: 185)  : il semblerait que cela soit un cas unique non seulement en Anatolie, mais peut-être aussi pour tout l’Orient romain. Les approximations du texte ont légitimement conduit W.M. Calder à attribuer cette base à Maximin le Thrace (235-238) (voir Bru 2017: 164182; Speidel 2016: 339-365), mais cela ne change rien au sens identitaire d’une telle dédicace civique, car les statues de cet empereur sont rares, surtout en Orient. À Antioche de Pisidie  Si l’on trouve également des attestations de la présence thrace dans cette cité, force est de constater que c’est à un degré bien moindre qu’à Apollonia de Pisidie ou à Neapolis de Phrygie, en tout cas dans l’état actuel de notre documentation, sachant qu’Antioche de Pisidie a fourni, et de loin, le plus grand nombre de textes épigraphiques d’une manière générale. En 1922, W.M. Ramsay (1922: 186) évoquait «  a list of citizens, all Thracians », à la suite de quoi L. Robert (1963: 360, n. 3; 1967: 32, n. 5) pesta afin que l’on retrouve la trace de cet important document dans les carnets du savant britannique, mais les recherches récentes menées par M.A. Byrne et G. Labarre dans ses «  Note-Books  » conservés à l’Ashmolean Museum d’Oxford ont été infructueuses sur ce point. Cependant les carnets de W.M. Ramsay ont permis de découvrir l’existence d’une autre inscription d’importance. En effet, on connaît maintenant à Antioche de Pisidie comme nom thrace  Αυλουζελμις (Detschew 1957: 35; Dana 2014: 18)49 lequel provient de la première ligne d’une liste de jeunes filles de la cité donnant pour chacune leur patronyme et leur papponyme.50 W.M. Ramsay ne fait pas allusion à cette liste lorsqu’il évoque celle, perdue, de «  citoyens, tous Thraces  », car il s’agit ici de noms de jeunes filles et d’anthroponymes presque tous grecs, à l’exception d’Αυλουζελμις, de Τατια (trois occurrences) et d’Ανμιον, et le grand savant qu’il était n’a pu confondre deux documents si différents et si importants pour l’histoire d’Antioche et de la région. Cette liste de 16 lignes est en tout cas très intéressante. Étant donné qu’elle ne montre aucun nom romain

Voir Cohen 1995: 348-349; d’après French (1984: 11), il faudrait chercher dans la localité moderne d’Iznebolu/Isnebolu le site principal de Neapolis de Phrygie. 41  Sur ce nom, voir Robert 1943: 198; Detschew 1957: 314-316. Point particulièrement important pour notre dossier, l’anthroponyme est attesté au sein de la garnison attalide d’Égine entre 210 et 133 av. J.-C. environ (IG, IV, 2, 930), mais également au IIe siècle av. J.-C. à Byzance (SEG, 24, 708 = I. Byzantion, 214)  ; il l’est à deux reprises dans une même inscription de Mysie, probablement au IIIe siècle av. J.-C. (I. Lacus Apolloniatis & Miletupolis, 2291). D’après D. Dana (2011: 95), le nom thrace d’époque hellénistique Πορις se rapporte plutôt à la Macédoine orientale, mais ceux au radical Μουκα- seraient en revanche à mettre en rapport avec la Thrace propre, intérieure, ce qui n’est visiblement pas évident, puisque l’auteur affirme aussi (p. 109) que l’élément Μο(υ)κα- est à mettre en relation avec la Thrace égéenne et occidentale. À propos du nom Moukasios, cf. Beševliev 1970: 41. 42  Calder 1932: 452, n° 1 = MAMA, VIII, 344 = I. Sultan Dağı, 633. Voir Robert 1962: 235. 43  Le nom Δορζινθης est connu en Thrace égéenne à Maroneia au IIe siècle av. J.-C. (I. Aeg. Thrace, 365) ; cf. Dana 2014: 161. On note en outre que l’anthroponyme Κοζινθης est attesté en Macédoine orientale à l’époque hellénistique (Dana 2011: 95), et en Égypte (Dana: 98). 44  Calder 1932: 453, n° 2 = MAMA, VIII, 355 = I. Sultan Dağı, 510. Voir Robert 1962: 235-236; Robert 1938: 185 (attestation du nom à Serdica, avec des formes onomastiques proches que l’on retrouve en Bulgarie); Robert 1965: 92. Pour l’anthroponyme Σκαρις, cf. Dana 2014: 306; Detschew 1957: 455; pour Δορζινθης cf. Detschew 1957: 149. 45  Pour l’anthroponyme thrace Σεύθης, notamment nom royal, cf. Detschew 1957: 434-437; Dana 2014: 312-321, spécialement 316. On note qu’un Seuthès père de Publius est également attesté plus au Sud, à Sagalassos : Πόπλιος Σεύθου sur un autel funéraire dédié au datif à son frère Kratéros (Bean 1954: 474, n° 4 et fig. 6 = SEG, 14, 798 = I. Burdur, 273). 46  MAMA, VIII, 367 = I. Sultan Dağı, 551. Voir Robert 1963: 113-114; 1965: Hellenica XIII: 92. Pour Αυλουκεντος, cf. Detschew 1957: 37; Dana 2014: 13. À propos des langues parlées dans cette famille de la plaine Killanienne, voir notamment les remarques de J.N. Adams (2003: 512). D’après D. Dana (2011: 109), les noms thraces d’époque hellénistique du type «  Αυλου- » se rapportent plutôt à la Macédoine orientale, «  Kenthos  » étant également attesté dans cette région (Dana 2011: 98, n. 28). 47  Calder 1932: 454, n° 5 = MAMA, VIII, 350 = I. Sultan Dağı, 505. 40 

Calder 1932: 453-454, n° 4 = MAMA, VIII, 348 = I. Sultan Dağı, 503. Voir aussi SEG, 40, 1169 (à Comana du Pont / Tokat) pour une attestation hellénistique en Anatolie continentale (cf. Brixhe et Panayotou 1991: 532, n° 582)  ; cf. par ailleurs l’attestation du nom «  Aulozelmis  » à Érétrie (IG, XII, 9, 795)  ; d’après D. Dana (2011: 95), les noms thraces d’époque hellénistique du type  «  -ζελμις » se rapportent plutôt à la Macédoine orientale, les noms au radical « Αυλου- » étant en général issus de Thrace égéenne et occidentale (2011: 109); Doulèzelmis renvoie selon lui à la Macédoine orientale (2011: 98, n. 28). 50  NIA, p. 29-30, n° 27, avec photographie du carnet de Ramsay p. 132 = Note-book 1912-1913, n° 88. 48  49 


Hadrien Bru (d’origine latine) parmi ses 39 anthroponymes, on peut légitimement penser qu’elle est antérieure à la fondation coloniale augustéenne de 25 av. J.-C.  ; elle date probablement du Ier siècle av. J.-C., avec ses alphas à barres brisées et ses sigmas à branches. Sachant que trois générations sont représentées dans ces filiations, plusieurs observations sont possibles. Tout d’abord nous pouvons remonter au temps des grands-pères des jeunes filles grâce à l’indication de 12 papponymes sur environ un siècle, ce qui nous donne a priori une indication des anthroponymes masculins de la cité vers la fin du IIe siècle av. J.-C. : ces noms sont a priori banals, gréco-macédoniens dans leur grande majorité; on note que nous avons même le nom d’un arrière-grandpère à la ligne 3 : Τίμων. Ce qui frappe est l’endogamie marquée des élites grecques de la cité, car comme le fait remarquer à juste titre G. Labarre, il doit s’agir de jeunes filles «  de bonne famille  » liées à un culte particulier. En raison des origines magnètes d’Antioche de Pisidie signalées par Strabon (XII, 8, 14), on pense à un culte ionien, spécialement à celui d’Artémis, d’une part en raison de ce que l’on connaît des Ourses du Brauron en Attique, d’autre part lorsqu’on songe au culte comme au sanctuaire d’Artémis Leucophryènè à Magnésie du Méandre,51 d’autant plus que S. Mitchell a souligné l’influence architecturale éventuelle du module de ce temple sur celui de Mèn Askaènos  (Mitchell and Waelkens 1998: 50-68) ;52 on connaît surtout un influent sanctuaire de la «  Grande Artémis  » à Sağır, au Nord d’Antioche de Pisidie. Pour revenir à l’endogamie des élites grecques de la cité, disons qu’Aulouzelmis fait figure d’exception thrace parmi les 39 anthroponymes de la liste d’Antioche de Pisidie.53

basée sur Σκιλ-),57 mais encore « ΣΑΘ-»,58 que l’on peut rapprocher de Σαθης,59 et dont la forme est proche des anthroponymes a priori thraces masculins tels que Σατοκος (Beševliev 1970: 3, 7),60 Σάτρης (Dana 2014: 305), ou Σατραλις (Detschew 1957: 426). On note que parmi la liste des 41 magistrats monétaires d’Antioche de Pisidie établie par W. Leschhorn pour cette époque précédant la refondation augustéenne, seuls les trois noms thraces dont les légendes ont été repérées semblent ne pas être culturellement helléniques, ce qui est remarquable. Il semble assez clair que nous ayons là la plus ancienne attestation historique de la présence thrace en Phrygie Parorée, ici en rapport avec le noyau des colons grécomacédoniens d’Antioche de Pisidie. Le terme κόλων Il n’a échappé à personne que les colons lyciens et thraces d’Apollonia de Pisidie et de Neapolis de Phrygie se présentent sous le terme de κόλων, directement dérivé du latin colonus (Jones 1971: 140; Calder 1956: 51), préféré à celui de κάτοικος (ou de κληροῦχος), que l’on aurait pourtant pu croire nettement plus prestigieux car plus ancien, se rapportant surtout au départ à l’histoire de la conquête alexandrine et des diadoques (voir par exemple les monnaies d’époque sévérienne évoquées précédemment). Cette appellation, qui a créé hésitations et confusions, en conduisant certains historiens à postuler pour l’installation des colons précités à l’époque impériale romaine, incite à percevoir une forte influence romaine dans cette proclamation identitaire (Cohen 1995: 285; Brélaz 2016: 69-86), laquelle tient à la fois au contexte de l’Orient impérial romain et au rayonnement exceptionnel de la colonie romaine d’Antioche de Pisidie (voir déjà Anderson 1898: 96). Nous ne reprendrons pas ici toutes les hypothèses de nos prédécesseurs et collègues, car il existe un consensus grandissant pour dater de l’époque hellénistique la venue des colons lyciens et thraces à Apollonia de Pisidie et à Neapolis de Phrygie (Cohen 1995: 287-289, 348-349). En raison de l’histoire hellénistique de la Phrygie Parorée que nous connaissons dans ses grandes lignes, les colons en question n’auraient pu être installés que par les souverains séleucides ou attalides. Nous verrons pourquoi et à quelle occasion ils furent installés par les seconds.

Comme on le sait, l’autre attestation d’une anthroponymie thrace, toujours parmi les élites d’Antioche de Pisidie, est le nom partiellement conservé («  ΔΕΝΘΗ-») d’un magistrat monétaire sur la légende d’une monnaie autonome de la cité qui doit dater de la fin de l’époque hellénistique.54 Parmi la série des noms, souvent abrégés, des monétaires des IIe-Ier siècles av. J.-C.,55 on pourrait ajouter, à titre d’hypothèse, « ΣΚΙΛ», qui pourrait renvoyer à Σκίλας56 (ou à une forme Où la divinité est dite « archégète de la cité » (OGIS, 695, l. 15 ; 557, l. 20 ; 560, l. 15 ; I. Magnesia 89, l. 25 ; I. Magnesia, 100a, l. 18, etc) ; cf. notamment Stinton 1976: 11-13. 52  L’influence des temples ioniens est en tout cas manifeste. 53  Les deux seuls autres noms culturellement non-helléniques sont les anthroponymes féminins anatoliens Tatia (ll. 6, 11, 12  ; Zgusta 1964: 499-501, § 1517-10) et Anmion (l. 15 ; Zgusta 1964: 63, § 57-21). 54  Robert 1967: 31-32, avec les références numismatiques et onomastiques utiles ; voir également Robert 1943: 197-201; Dana 2014: 121. On note qu’un certain Δεντουζελμις est attesté en Égypte entre 140 et 116 av. J.-C. dans une dédicace à Ptolémée VIII Évergète II (SEG, 41, 1634). 55  Voir Leschhorn 2009: 982, lequel précise toutefois, n. 2, que certaines monnaies pourraient émaner d’une autre Antioche, par exemple Antioche du Méandre ou Antioche de Carie/Alabanda. 56  Detschew 1957: 458-459. À moins qu’il s’agisse d’une autre origine linguistique (iranienne ?). D’après D. Dana (2011: 95), les noms thraces d’époque hellénistique du type «  -kilas  » se rapportent plutôt à la Macédoine orientale. 51 

Il importe de garder à l’esprit qu’à l’époque impériale, Apollonia de Pisidie, en dépit de son beau territoire aux Voir par exemple, pour l’époque hellénistique, Σκίλουρος (IosPE I² 668, à Simferopol, en Crimée, environ entre 120 et 63 av. J.-C. ; SEG, 37, 674, à Panticapée entre 140 et 111 av. J.-C.). 58  Pour les abréviations des légendes « ΣΑΘ-» et « ΣΚΙΛ-», attribuées depuis un certain temps à Antioche/Carie, cf. Mionnet 1833: 448, n° 68-69, avec mes remerciements à Wolfgang Leschhorn pour ces précisions. 59  Attesté en Thrace à Augusta Traiana en 202 ap. J.-C. (IGBulg, III.2, 1690; Dana 2014: 304). 60  Nom attesté en Mysie et Lydie (Dana 2014: 304). 57 


Les Thraces et Lyciens en Phrygie Parorée aux époques hellénistique et romaine

confins orientaux de la déjà ancienne province romaine républicaine et sénatoriale d’Asie, était encadrée d’assez près par deux puissantes cités  : à l’Ouest, Apamée de Phrygie, grande place commerciale au passé prestigieux, ancienne résidence des grands rois achéménides (Kelainai) et capitale d’Antigone le Borgne, mais aussi haut lieu diplomatique de la haute vallée du Méandre où fut signé le fameux « traité d’Apamée » qui allait en 188 av. J.-C. marquer de son sceau le déclin d’Antiochos III le Grand et des Séleucides dans l’Orient méditerranéen ; à l’Est Antioche de Pisidie, colonie séleucide refondée par Auguste et dominant en réalité toute la Phrygie Parorée intérieure «  vers la Pisidie  », en fait à la tête de tout le réseau colonial augustéen au Sud du Taurus, une maîtresse stratégique aux confins occidentaux de la plus récente province romaine impériale de Galatie,61 une clé de voûte sise entre Ancyre et la plaine de Pamphylie, au centre de gravité de la « route commune  » anatolienne reliant l’Ionie aux Portes de Cilicie et à la Syrie. Quant à Neapolis de Phrygie, fondée non loin d’Anaboura près du lac Karalis, elle ne pouvait non plus rivaliser avec Antioche de Pisidie, pas plus qu’avec Ikonion en Lycaonie. Lorsqu’à une époque de relative homogénéisation politique et culturelle de l’empire romain, un certain nombre de communautés d’Orient affirmèrent leur identité culturelle et historique sur leurs monnaies ou dans les inscriptions officielles, Apollonia et Neapolis choisirent donc de se présenter comme des communautés de colons en utilisant le terme grec issu du latin, en référence aux puissants et prestigieux colons romains d’Antioche de Pisidie, pourvus du Ius Italicum. Comme nous le verrons ailleurs, il s’agissait à la fois de s’affirmer et de se singulariser par rapport à d’autres communautés vivant dans la région, qui firent de même entre la deuxième moitié du Ier siècle et le milieu du IIIe siècle de notre ère : les Phrygiens, les Pisidiens, et les Grecs, dont certains se disaient descendants des Achéens, des Lacédémoniens, des Doriens, des Ioniens, ou des deux à la fois en alléguant des origines athéniennes et spartiates. Face à ces autres communautés, la culture qu’ils revendiquaient était triple : allogène en tant que « lycienne » et « thrace » d’un point de vue ethnique, « grecque » par la langue dans l’expression culturelle,62 « romaine » et politique par le choix du vocable colonial directement issu du latin.

par W.M. Ramsay où on lit «  les colons lyciens ET thraces ».63 Certains ont voulu voir à Apollonia, en plus de ces colons thraces et lyciens, des colons « romains », S. Mitchell percevant une cité avec colons mais sans statut particulier (Mitchell 1978: 311-318), il est vrai à la suite de L. Robert64 et de A.H.M. Jones.65 Mais à Apollonia de Pisidie, le procurateur impérial Aurelios Apollonios est par exemple clairement honoré par ἡ βουλὴ καὶ ὁ δῆμος Ἀπολλωνιατῶν Λυκίων Θρακῶν κολώνων,66 c’est-à-dire par un même politeuma, lequel émet également les monnaies avec cette titulature officielle.67 Dans cette optique, il apparaît que cette affirmation identitaire et civique s’effectue par rapport à d’autres groupes socio-culturels de la région, nous l’avons dit : par rapport aux Grecs stricto sensu, bien que l’on se trouve dans une polis d’origine hellénistique  ; par rapport aux puissants colons romains de plein droit d’Antioche de Pisidie, même si l’on s’inspire du vocable latin  ; mais aussi par rapport aux Phrygiens et aux Pisidiens vivant souvent aux alentours dans les parties les plus escarpées de la région ou en marge des territoires cultivables, tout comme les Galates avaient été repoussés par Manlius Vulso68 et les Attalides sur les plateaux steppiques de la Phrygie en 189 avant notre ère.69 En dépit de ces différenciations, la langue véhiculaire de la région était bien sûr le grec, qui avait rapproché, unifié, culturellement et politiquement, les populations depuis Alexandre et les Diadoques, mais sans aplanir toutes les caractéristiques des groupes sociaux en présence. 5. Lyciens et Thraces en Phrygie Parorée : une question géopolitique Il est assez clair que les destinées des Lyciens et des Thraces installés à Apollonia de Pisidie et à Neapolis de Phrygie sont indissolublement liées dans le temps comme dans l’espace, les Thraces étant également présents à Antioche de Pisidie. Aussi faut-il d’une part chercher quels furent les rapports historiques Ramsay 1890: 172, vérifié par Christol et Drew-Bear 1987: 16, n° 1. Robert et Robert, Bull. épigr. 1958: 321, n° 467. Jones 1971: 140, 411, qui pensait à d’anciens soldats levés par Amyntas de Galatie, puis ensuite démobilisés et lotis par le pouvoir romain. 66  CIG, 3969 = IGR, III, 317 = MAMA, IV, 150. 67  Sur ce point, on peut distinguer ce formulaire de celui régulièrement utilisé par les autorités civiques d’Apamée de Phrygie ἡ βουλὴ καὶ ὁ δῆμος καὶ οἱ κατοικοῦντες Ῥωμαῖοι au cours du IIe siècle de notre ère (IGR, IV, 785-786 ; 788-789 ; 794) : la conjonction καí associe les «  Romains résidents  » mais en les distinguant, avec l’utilisation d’un participe, et non d’un nom commun tel que κάτοικοι. Cette manière de désigner les « résidents » est très prisée à Délos (où le mot traduit le terme juridique latin consistentes), ainsi que sur le littoral de l’Ionie, lieux où les négociants et trafiquants romains s’étaient massivement installés. 68  Notons en passant que parmi les élites civiques d’Antioche de Pisidie on compte un certain Manlius Torquatus, sans doute décurion et honoré par un décret des décurions de la ville (cf. NIA, p. 78, n° 168 = W.M. Ramsay, Note-book 1914 A n° 35 ; NIA, p. 100-101, n° 187 = W.M. Ramsay, Note-books 1912 B n° 161 et 1912-13 n° 86). 69  Pour ce qui concerne les Galates, voir notamment Strobel 1996. 63  64  65 

S. Mitchell remarque que l’épigraphie et la numismatique donnent en grec la formule « les colons Apolloniates Lyciens Thraces », sauf dans un cas relevé Cela va dans le sens de l’appréciation de Cicéron (De lege agraria, II, 27, 73), qui voyait dans les colonies des propugnacula imperii Romani, «  postes avancés de l’empire  romain ». Sur ces considérations, le rôle des colonies d’après les historiens et les agrimensores romains, et l’ordonnancement des nouveaux espaces cadastrés, voir Guillaumin 2016: 13-24. 62  À titre d’exemple significatif, la version des Res gestae divi Augusti découverte sur l’acropole d’Apollonia de Pisidie était gravée en grec : le loyalisme envers Auguste et le pouvoir impérial s’exprime, mais pas en latin comme dans la colonie d’Antioche de Pisidie. 61 


Hadrien Bru existant entre ces deux peuples, d’autre part observer attentivement leur distribution spatiale, qui est bien particulière.70 En effet, en Phrygie Parorée intérieure (Phrygie dite «  pisidienne  »), dans ce «  réduit  » ou «  cirque  » pisido-phrygien, les Thraces sont attestés en trois endroits (Apollonia de Pisidie, Neapolis de Phrygie et Antioche de Pisidie) qui sont des lieux stratégiques  : Apollonia commande la passe entre la haute vallée du Méandre à l’Ouest et l’entrée vers l’intérieur du «  cirque  » pisido-phrygien, ainsi que le cours supérieur de l’Hippophoras (actuel Pupa Çay)  ; Neapolis commande l’accès à cet espace lorsqu’on vient de Lycaonie par le tractus Orondicus ou par le Nord-Est de la Pisidie (région d’Amlada) ;71 Antioche commande à la fois le centre et le Nord de ce même espace intérieur, ainsi que le cours supérieur de l’Anthios (actuel Yalvaç Çay). En résumé, les trois cités d’une inégale puissance politique, démographique et économique72 ont accueilli des contingents thraces en trois points stratégiques qui encadrent et verrouillent militairement les meilleures plaines cultivables73 de toute la région, qui plus est riche en eau,74 forêts75 et pacages.

Mysie orientale) et à Philomelion (Akşehir)77 en Phrygie Parorée même, élément historique et épigraphique fondamental qu’il faut rapprocher de la lettre du roi à son plénipotentaire Zeuxis et reproduite par Flavius Josèphe, où le pouvoir central exprime clairement son souci d’assurer son emprise politique, religieuse78 et militaire en Lydie et en Phrygie par l’installation de katoikoi, en l’occurrence des Juifs hellénisés de Babylonie et de Mésopotamie.79 Ces décisions d’Antiochos III datent de 212-205 av. J.-C., juste après l’usurpation de son cousin Achaios, alors que le grand roi séleucide se trouvait dans les Hautes Satrapies et reprenait en main l’Anatolie en s’appuyant sur des hommes de confiance, Zeuxis et Nikanôr.80 Entre cette époque et celle du traité d’Apamée en 188 av. J.-C., nous n’avons manifestement pas d’éléments probants justifiant l’installation de colons thraces dans la région qui nous intéresse, mais il n’en va pas de même pour la période qui s’ouvre ensuite. On sait que les katoikoi hellénistiques étaient voués à cultiver la terre et à occuper le terrain militairement comme politiquement au nom d’un roi, cela nécessairement face à une adversité déclarée et vérifiable sur le terrain, mais laquelle ? À l’époque du traité d’Apamée, c’est-à-dire du déclin séleucide en Anatolie centrale face à la montée en puissance de Pergame et de Rome, on songe rapidement aux Galates car conformément aux clauses territoriales du traité, le retrait des troupes d’Antiochos III au Sud du Taurus allait laisser à découvert toute la Phrygie Parorée en l’exposant à des incursions.81 Suite à la défaite d’Antiochos III à Magnésie du Sipyle, une conférence diplomatique eut lieu à Rome en 189, où Eumène II de Pergame se rendit, en présence de M. Aurelius Cotta (légat de L. Scipion) et des envoyés du roi séleucide. Tite-Live nous rapporte le discours du roi attalide devant le Sénat,82 le souverain confortant la puissance romaine et revendiquant une totale collaboration avec Rome : d’après le discours en

La refondation de Mordiaion sous le nom d’Apollonia semble bien séleucide, d’une part en raison de l’attestation, même tardive, du culte de Zeus ou Theos Nikatôr découverte dans la vallée de l’Hippophoras, la plaine de la cité,76 d’autre part en raison des modules du cadastre fossile de la cité (cf. infra). Antioche de Pisidie est une fondation séleucide en raison de la toponymie, mais également parce que l’on voit Antiochos III s’en préoccuper dans une lettre découverte en deux exemplaires, à Pamukçu (aux confins de la Lydie et de la Voir par exemple la carte synthétique de Dana 2011: 113. Voir carte 3. Maîtriser le point de passage de Neapolis dans l’angle Nord-Est du lac Karalis est essentiel à qui veut contrôler l’accès sudoriental des plaines Killanienne et d’Antioche de Pisidie, car l’Ouest du lac est assez abruptement surplombé par le massif de l’Anamas Dağ qui devait être sur le territoire de Tymbriada, au point qu’une armée régulière n’emprunterait pas une route si dangereuse pour longer le vaste plan d’eau. Ajoutons que le seul autre moyen praticable pour sortir ou entrer de la plaine d’Antioche par l’Est est la route secondaire reliant la cité à Philomelion, de l’autre côté du Sultan Dağ (cf. Christol et Drew-Bear 1998: 144-145, photographies fig. 4-5, et p. 147, carte fig. 6), un itinéraire qui exigeait que l’on tînt les crêtes de la chaîne montagneuse si emblématique de la Phrygie Parorée. Ce fut manifestement le rôle des orophylaques précisément recensés à l’Ouest et à l’Est du Sultan Dağ (à Şarkikaraağaç dans la plaine Killanienne sur le territoire de Neapolis de Phrygie  : MAMA, VIII, 354 = I. Sultan Dağı, 509 ; à Kara Ağil sur le territoire probable de Thymbrion/Hadrianopolis en Lycaonie : EJ, n° 156 = I. Sultan Dağı, 230) pour la surveillance des montagnes et de leurs crêtes, qui pouvaient en outre se confondre avec les limites des territoires civiques (voir Sartre 1991: 289-290, et surtout la discussion détaillée de Brélaz 2005: 157-171 et 403-404, notices E1-E6), cela dans une ambiance générale assez militarisée. 72  Dans l’ordre croissant : Neapolis, Apollonia, Antioche. 73  Les plaines d’Apollonia, d’Antioche et la plaine Killanienne. 74  Grâce aux deux rivières précitées ainsi qu’aux lacs d’Eğirdir/ Hoyran et de Beyşehir. 75  Au moins sur les contreforts orientaux de l’Anamas Dağ et du Sultan Dağ, même si ces pentes sont aujourd’hui moins boisées que celles de la Pisidie, plus au Sud. 76  MAMA, IV, 226 = SEG, 6, 592 ; voir supra. 70  71 

Dossier épigraphique publié (d’après la copie de Pamukçu) par H. Malay (1987: 7-17), d’où SEG, 37, 1010, où l’anthroponyme thrace Bithys apparaît déjà, en rapport avec l’administration d’un district lydien sous la coupe de Zeuxis ; cf. Gauthier 1989: 402-403, n° 276. J. Ma (2004: 326-330, n° 4) reproduit et commente le dossier, tout en donnant des compléments bibliographiques  ; Malay 2004: 407-413; Müller 2000: 528-529, d’où SEG, 50, 1199; Dmitriev 2005: 321-322, n. 154. 78  Spécialement par la création d’une grande prêtrise extraordinaire dont la juridiction couvrait nommément le sanctuaire de Mèn Askaènos sur le territoire d’Antioche de Pisidie. 79  Josèphe, Antiquités Juives, 12, 148-153. Sur cette lettre, sa datation et son authenticité, voir notamment Bengtson 1944: 110-112; Schalit 1960: 292-296; Cohen 1978: 5-9 (qui s’appuie sur Schmitt 1964: 85); Ma 2004: 49, 210-211 et 261, n. 42. 80  Voir notamment Gauthier 1989: 15-19, 168-169; Bru 2009: 274-275. 81  Ce que Tite-Live (38, 48, 1) résume en une phrase : Quo longius Antiochus emotus esset, hoc impotentius in Asia Galli dominarentur, et quidquid est terrarum citra Tauri iuga Gallorum imperio, non uestro, adicissetis (« Plus loin on aurait chassé Antiochus [III], plus démesurée allait être la tyrannie des Gaulois en Asie, et toutes les terres situées de ce côté du mont Taurus [en Anatolie cistaurique], vous les auriez ajoutées à l’empire des Gaulois, pas au vôtre », trad. R. Adam). 82  Tite-Live, 37, 52-54. 77 


Les Thraces et Lyciens en Phrygie Parorée aux époques hellénistique et romaine

question, le roi séleucide est politiquement repoussé de la zone cistaurique,83 « Car la Lycaonie, et chacune des deux Phrygies et la Pisidie dans son ensemble  »84 sont au pouvoir des Romains. Ce passage mérite un commentaire  : la potentialité d’une mise au pas de la Phrygie Parorée est sous-entendue, de même que celle de toute la Pisidie. On se souvient que Selge avait aussi bien résisté à Achaios qu’à Antiochos III dans le dernier quart du IIIe siècle et jusqu’au printemps 193 av. J.-C.,85 sachant qu’il fallut ensuite plusieurs expéditions, dont celle de P. Servilius Vatia Isauricus, avant la colonisation augustéenne régionale qui fut décisive à l’avancée d’un pouvoir d’État capable d’annexer la Pisidie (Syme 1995: 204-269; Mitchell 1993: 70-79; Levick 1967). Les clauses territoriales du traité d’Apamée (188 av. J.-C.) entérinant la défaite d’Antiochos III apportent ensuite un jalon essentiel à notre enquête : à Rome le Sénat en fixa les grandes lignes, mais c’est une commission de decemviri (dix légats romains) qui fut chargée de l’exécution du traité sur place.86 En rapport avec notre dossier, les régions ou villes qui tombèrent sous la coupe des Attalides furent :87 la Phrygie hellespontique, la Grande Phrygie, une partie de la Mysie, la Lycaonie, la Milyade, la Lydie, Tralles, Éphèse et Telmessos, puis, un peu plus tard dans les tractations, la Pamphylie. À ces nouvelles possessions pergaméniennes, il importe de souligner la mention de la cité lycienne de Telmessos,88 qui ne fut pas cédée aux Rhodiens ayant déjà obtenu de Rome la Lycie et la Carie jusqu’au Méandre.89 On retiendra qu’au sein de leur vaste et nouveau domaine, les Attalides avaient désormais autorité sur les Lyciens de Milyade et de Telmessos (voir Bresson 2007: 76),90 mais aussi sur les Thraces vivant en Phrygie hellespontique, en Mysie, ainsi qu’en Chersonèse de Thrace et sur le territoire de Lysimacheia.91

Cette guerre impressionnante et complexe ayant opposé les Séleucides à Pergame, Rome et Rhodes fait souvent oublier les impitoyables guerres galatiques qui se prolongèrent après le traité d’Apamée et créèrent dans la région un traumatisme humain et un séisme géopolitique.92 Face à la menace de la coalition proromaine, Antiochos III se fit largement fournir en contingents galates,93 qui étaient de logiques alliés pour contrer Pergame au centre et à l’Ouest de l’Anatolie. Ce fut pour le consul romain Cn. Manlius Vulso un prétexte afin d’attaquer les Galates en 189 av. J.-C. lors d’une campagne assez précisément relatée par Polybe (livre 21) et Tite-Live (livre 38), sur laquelle nous nous contenterons de revenir en soulignant ici le rôle des Attalides et la question des territoires cultivables. Attale, frère du roi pergaménien Eumène II (197-159 av. J.-C.) et futur Attale II (159-138 av. J.-C.), fut en 189 av. J.-C. appelé par Vulso, auprès duquel son rôle ne fut pas tant de fournir 1000 fantassins et 500 cavaliers que de faire bénéficier le consul romain de sa connaissance de l’Anatolie en tant qu’allié.94 Cela dit, le jeune Attale se montra très actif sur le terrain,95 en participant aux opérations militaires contre les Galates grâce à ses archers et frondeurs crétois, mais également grâce à « ses » Thraces.96 Après la défaite des Galates Tolistoboges au mont Olympos (au Nord-Est de Gordion), Attale avait en outre participé à des pourparlers de paix à Ancyre pour le compte de Rome.97 Dans le prolongement de la défaite des Galates Tectosages et Trocmes à la bataille de Magava, les Celtes s’étaient retirés provisoirement audelà de l’Halys et Vulso avait pris ses quartiers d’hiver à Éphèse fin 189 av. J.-C., avant de revenir à Apamée de Phrygie au printemps suivant pour la conclusion du fameux traité, lequel entraîna de nombreux différends et des contestations locales et civiques qu’il fallait apaiser dans le cadre du règlement du conflit avec Antiochos III et du «  nouvel ordre des choses  » qui apparut alors à l’instigation du pouvoir romain.98 Parmi les nouveaux problèmes qui se posaient se trouvait celui des terres cultivables qui allaient être clairement convoitées par les Galates en Anatolie centrale puisque le pouvoir séleucide devait dorénavant se retirer au Sud

Tite-Live, 37, 52, 4 et 37, 53, 25. Sur les conséquences du traité d’Apamée et les Attalides, voir notamment Robert 1937: 86 ; Meyer 1925: 154.  84  Tite-Live, 37, 54, 11  : Nam et Lycaonia et Phrygia utraque et Pisidia omnis. 85  Polybe, 5, 73, 8 ; 5, 74, 3 ; Tite-Live, 35, 13, 5; Grainger 2002: 145-146, 153. 86  Polybe, 21, 45, 1 ; Tite-Live, 37, 55, 7. Voir Holleaux 1931/1932, RÉG 44: 304-319 et RÉG 45: 7-31 (= Études d’épigraphie et d’histoire grecques V (Paris 1957): 208-243). 87  D’après Polybe, 21, 45, 10; Tite-Live, 37, 56, 2 et 38, 39, 15-16. 88  Polybe, 21, 45, 8 et 10; Tite-Live, 37, 56, 4-5. C’est Vulso qui reçut la soumission de la ville (Tite-Live, 38, 39, 3). Sur la cité à cette époque et Ptolémée de Telmessos, voir notamment Holleaux 1942: 365-404 ; sur la période précédente, dans le premier tiers du IIIe siècle av. J.-C., cf. Wörrle 1978: 201-246 ; voir aussi, pour l’intérêt porté à Telmessos par les rois hellénistiques, Wörrle 1979: 83-111. 89  Polybe, 21, 45, 8; Tite-Live, 38, 39, 13. 90  Le pouvoir royal s’est peut-être intéressé de près à la gestion du territoire de cette cité à l’époque d’Antiochos III ou d’Eumène II (cf. SEG, 29, 1516 ; Robert et Robert, Bull. épigr. 1980: 455-458, n° 484 ; SEG, 37, 1230), sachant que ce dernier roi a écrit une lettre qui répondait en 181 av. J.-C. à la pétition d’une communauté locale (οἱ κατοικοῦντες ἐν Καρδάκων κώμῃ) en difficulté : voir Segre 1938: 190-207; Maier 1959: 248-250, n° 76; Cohen 1995: 330; Virgilio 2003: 300-302, n° 32 ; Ma 2004: 272, n. 151; Mileta 2008: 150, n° I.13 (avec traduction en allemand). La cité fut restituée aux Lyciens par les Romains en 133 av. J.-C., à la fin du règne d’Attale III de Pergame (Strabon, 14, 3, 4). 91  Polybe, 21, 45, 9; Tite-Live, 38, 39, 14-16. 83 

Sur les conséquences de ce conflit en Asie Mineure, voir Will 2003: 285-301. 93  Tite-Live, 38, 12, 3-4 : cum Gallis […] qui et auxiliis iuuissent Antiochum; l’historien ajoute ensuite qu’en 189 av. J.-C. Cn. Manlius Vulso envoya des émissaires à Éposognatus, qui unus ex regulis et in Eumenis manserat amiticia et negauerat Antiocho aduersus Romanos auxilia (38, 18, 1 : « le seul prince gaulois qui fût resté dans l’amitié d’Eumène [II de Pergame] et eût refusé à Antiochus [III] des troupes contre les Romains », trad. R. Adam ; cf. aussi Polybe, 21, 37, 1-3) ; cela est également confirmé plus loin dans le texte à l’occasion de discussions politiques qui eurent lieu à Rome en 187 av. J.-C. : sciatisne in exercitu Antiochi Gallorum legiones fuisse (38, 48, 7  : «  ne savez-vous pas que l’armée d’Antiochus [III] comportait des légions gauloises »). 94  Tite-Live, 38, 12, 7-8; Polybe, 21, 39, 10; 21, 40, 9. 95  Tite-Live, 38, 20, 3. 96  Tite-Live, 38, 21, 2 : ab Attalo Cretenses sagittarii et funditores et Tralles et Thraeces. 97  Tite-Live, 38, 25, 5. 98  Tite-Live, 38, 39, 5. 92 


Hadrien Bru du Taurus. Nos deux sources littéraires sont très claires sur ce point fondamental : à deux reprises, d’abord dans un excursus sur l’invasion celtique de l’Asie Mineure par les Galates en 279-277 av. J.-C., puis dans un discours de Vulso recomposé, Tite-Live évoque « l’immense horde poussée par le manque de terres »,99 les Galates ayant été « chassés par le manque de terres »,100 sachant que l’historien idéalise par ailleurs l’Anatolie abondante en tout, à la terre fertile. En raison de l’aridité des plateaux phrygiens (par exemple la vallée de l’Axylon) où les Galates avaient été repoussés par les Pergaméniens depuis le IIIe siècle av. J.-C., cette quête de terres fertiles par les peuplades celtiques présentes en Anatolie était plus que jamais d’actualité en raison du recul de la puissance politique séleucide au Sud du Taurus, raison pour laquelle Vulso demanda instamment aux émissaires galates, venus le rencontrer en 188 av. J.-C. dans l’Hellespont à son retour vers Rome, de «  rester dans les limites de leurs terres »,101 d’après Tite-Live, ce que l’on peut rapprocher d’un fragment de Polybe.102

s’occupèrent beaucoup de la région à cette époque,107 non seulement en écrivant à plusieurs reprises à Attis, prêtre du temple de Cybèle à Pessinonte entre 163 et 156 av. J.-C. (Welles 1966: n° 55-61), mais également en octroyant aux habitants de Toriaion (Tyriaion), en Phrygie du Sud (aux confins de la Lycaonie, à l’Est de la chaîne montagneuse du Sultan Dağ), le droit de se constituer en polis grecque par la reconnaissance d’un même politeuma regroupant Grecs et Galates,108 ce qu’il faut vraisemblablement interpréter comme la volonté politique d’un encouragement à la sédentarisation de ces derniers. Au surplus, une lettre d’Attale (futur Attale II à cette époque) au clergé de Pessinonte écrite entre 166 et 159 av. J.-C. incite à penser que des katoikoi furent installés à Amorion afin de protéger la Phrygie méridionale suite à la guerre galatique de 168-166 avant notre ère (cf. Avram et Tsetskhladze 2014: 160167). D’où l’hypothèse probable que les Attalides, très entreprenants, aient stratégiquement fermé l’intérieur de la Phrygie Parorée aux incursions galates et pisidiennes en plaçant des colons lyciens et thraces à Apollonia de Pisidie et à Neapolis de Phrygie vers cette époque, sûrement peu après l’offensive galate de 168.

Or en 168 av. J.-C., les Galates se soulevèrent de nouveau face aux Attalides,103 lesquels avaient désormais pleine autorité pour intervenir face à eux dans les régions sous la juridiction de Pergame depuis le traité d’Apamée. À ce moment, Attale se plaignit à Rome des difficultés rencontrées face aux Celtes d’Asie,104 d’autant plus que ces derniers furent soutenus vers 168-163 av. J.-C. par certaines cités de Pisidie, parmi lesquelles Selge105 et manifestement Amlada, comme nous l’apprend un document essentiel  : une lettre d’Attale gravée à Amlada vers 160 av. J.-C. par laquelle le frère d’Eumène II réduit les indemnités de guerre des habitants et libère des otages de la cité vaincue en témoignage d’apaisement, suite à une ambassade de la ville envoyée à Pergame en vue d’adoucir les sanctions ayant résulté des guerres galatiques.106 Eumène II et Attale

Conclusions Plusieurs éléments historiques bien documentés corroborent en effet l’hypothèse d’une installation des colons lyciens et thraces à Apollonia de Pisidie et Neapolis de Phrygie par les souverains Attalides, environ entre 168-166 et 150 avant notre ère. Tout d’abord l’onomastique galate est d’une manière générale absente à l’intérieur des montagnes de la Phrygie Parorée, au cœur du cirque pisido-phrygien.109 Face à cette absence, l’onomastique thrace présente dans la région en question, à Apollonia de Pisidie, Neapolis de Phrygie et Antioche de Pisidie, remonte pour l’essentiel au IIe siècle av. J.-C., comme le montre par exemple l’anthroponyme Mokaporis dont on trouve un parallèle au sein de la garnison attalide d’Égine (cf. supra), sachant que les Thraces étaient bien actifs dans l’armée d’Attale qui s’est jointe aux soldats romains

Tite-Live, 38, 16, 1 : magna hominum uis, seu inopia agri. Tite-Live, 38, 17, 16 : Extorres inopia agrorum. 101  Tite-Live, 38, 40, 2 : agrorumque suorum terminis se continerent. À la suite de cette injonction, le consul romain franchit l’Hellespont et campa avec son armée à Lysimacheia. 102  Ὅτι τοῖς παρὰ τῶν ἐκ τῆς Ἀσίας Γαλατῶν πρεσβευταῖς συνεχώρησαν τὴν αὐτονομίαν μένουσιν ἐν ταῖς ἰδίαις κατοικίαις καὶ μὴ στρατευομένοις ἐκτὸς τῶν ἰδίων ὅρων. Le fragment est en outre rapprochable de l’entame des livres 30 et 31 couvrant la période 168161 av. J.-C. 103  Voir notamment Polybe, 29, 22, 4 ; 30, 19, 12 ; Tite-Live, 45, 9, 3 et 45, 19, 12. Sur cette période, voir Sartre 2004: 199-206, spécialement 203-206; Avram et Tsetskhladze 2014: 151-181; Thonemann 2015: 117128. 104  Polybe, 30, 1, 1-2 ; 30, 3, 2. 105  Polybe, 31, 1, 1-2, apparemment à l’instigation de Prusias II de Bithynie, voisin et ennemi de Pergame. Voir aussi Trogue Pompée, Prologue, 34. 106  OGIS, 751 = Welles 1966: 237-241, n° 54; Swoboda et al. 1935: n° 74; Flacelière et Roussel, Bull. épigr. 1936: 386, qui évoquent une hésitation d’attribution entre Attale II et III pour désigner l’auteur de la lettre principale. Sur ce document, voir Holleaux 1918: 17-19 (= Études d’épigraphie et d’histoire grecques II (1938): 149-151). Une lettre de la même période envoyée par Attale à Olbasa en Milyade confirme des opérations militaires et l’implication des Attalides en Pisidie, dans ce cas plus au Sud-Ouest (Kearsley 1994: 47-57; Gauthier, Bull. épigr. 1997: 578-579, n° 563). 99 


Voir MAMA, VI, 173  : les habitants d’Apamée de Phrygie leur érigèrent ainsi des statues (lignes 10-11), dont le socle évoque une guerre non précisée (ligne 13)  ; peut-être pourrait-il s’agir de la guerre galatique des années 160, à moins qu’il ne soit simplement question du conflit précédent entre Rome et Antiochos III. 108  Jonnes et Ricl 1997: 1-29; Gauthier, Bull. épigr. 1999: 680-682, n° 509; Schuler 1999: 124-132  ; I. Sultan Dağı, 393  ; SEG, 47, 1745  ; SEG, 55, 1428. Il s’agit d’une lettre d’Eumène II de Pergame, datable d’entre le traité d’Apamée et la mort du roi (188-159 av. J.-C.), sur laquelle nous reviendrons infra. 109  Mentionnons cependant au passage l’épigramme funéraire d’Apollonia de Pisidie évoquant Σαγαρις (sur ce nom qui semble avoir rayonné à partir de l’Asie Mineure, voir L. Robert 1963: 536-538), en rapport avec Dokimeion, mais citant surtout les Galates Trocmes chez qui un troupeau de bœufs fut sauvé de la famine dans ce texte datable de 162 ap. J.-C. (CIG, 3973 = MAMA, IV, 140 = Merkelbach et Stauber 2001: 413-414, n° 16/62/01)  ; sur ce texte relatif à une offrande de deux bœufs en marbre de Dokimeion, voir Robert 1980: 224-225; SEG, 30, 1473. Le patronyme grec Γαλάτης est par ailleurs attesté à Küçükkabaca, près d’Apollonia de Pisidie (MAMA, IV, 197). 107 


Les Thraces et Lyciens en Phrygie Parorée aux époques hellénistique et romaine

de Cn. Manlius Vulso. Si définir la provenance exacte des Thraces recrutés par les Attalides est improbable, on peut néanmoins formuler des hypothèses. Dès 188 av. J.-C., le traité d’Apamée a permis de mettre sous la coupe de ces souverains des régions largement peuplées par les Thraces, parmi lesquelles on citera la Phrygie hellespontique, la Chersonèse de Thrace, le territoire de Lysimacheia, mais aussi une partie de la Mysie antérieurement sous la domination de Prusias II de Bithynie.110 Sur ce dernier point, on se demande si Apollonia du Rhyndakos et sa région, aux confins de la Mysie et de la Bithynie,111 ne joua pas un rôle particulier à cette période, car d’une part un décret honorifique du IIe siècle av. J.-C. qui émane de cette cité rend hommage à Polemaios fils d’Asklépiadès et à Zénon fils de Simylos, ce dernier étant à la tête d’un groupe de gardes du corps en tant que strategos, cela dans un environnement de katoikoi112 qui durent être installés par les Attalides ; d’autre part les Apolloniates du Rhyndakos honorent à Apamée de Phrygie Ti. Claudius Mithridatès, grandprêtre de la province d’Asie, sûrement au IIe siècle de notre ère, d’une manière qui pourrait témoigner de relations anciennes entre les deux villes.113 Les Attalides, Eumène II ou Attale II, auraient-ils installé des katoikoi à Apollonia du Rhyndakos en même temps qu’ils auraient déplacé des Thraces du territoire de cette cité ou des alentours vers la Phrygie Parorée ? Toujours est-il qu’au moment de l’offensive galate en Anatolie, en 168-167 av. J.-C., Attale demanda à Rome qu’on lui remît les cités thraces d’Aïnos et de Maroneia à titre de « don » en échange de services rendus.114 C’est dire que les Attalides avaient toute latitude pour recruter des Thraces à cette époque et les déplacer au sein de leur vaste domaine micrasiatique.

donc assez bien comprendre que les Attalides aient « posté » des Lyciens (peut-être chassés de leurs cités de Milyade, ou de Kibyratide par le tyran Moagétès)116 à Apollonia de Pisidie et à Neapolis de Phrygie face à d’éventuels ennemis pisidiens venus d’Amlada, de Selge ou d’ailleurs au Sud de la Phrygie Parorée. Notons en passant que contrairement aux Thraces à l’onomastique caractéristique et différente de l’anthroponymie plus ancienne en Anatolie, il n’est hélas guère possible de distinguer à coup sûr les descendants des colons lyciens, dans la mesure où ils puisaient comme les Pisidiens leurs voisins dans un stock onomastique hittito-louvite commun, à quelques nuances près. Or à Apollonia de Pisidie comme à Neapolis de Phrygie, on peut régulièrement distinguer les noms phrygiens, mais pas les anthroponymes pisidiens des noms lyciens. Il semble en tout cas que Rome ait au moins en partie organisé le désordre régional en vue d’affaiblir simultanément les Rhodiens et les Pergaméniens, puisqu’ en 167 av. J.-C. «  le Sénat accorda l’indépendance aux Galates, à condition qu’ils restassent chez eux et qu’ils ne fissent plus d’expéditions au-delà des frontières de leur territoire »,117 ce qui exprimait un vœu pieux aussi bien qu’une provocation (voir M. Sartre 2004: 207-208). Les Attalides exercèrent, plus qu’on ne l’a dit ou écrit, une profonde influence sur la Phrygie Parorée, ce dont témoigne l’onomastique «  royale  » inspirée par le pouvoir politique et historique dans la région  : l’anthroponyme  Ἄτταλος est ainsi fortement attesté encore à l’époque impériale sur le territoire de Neapolis de Phrygie,118 cité qui pourrait avoir été fondée par les Attalides pour contrôler la plaine Killanienne et le passage du tractus Orondicus tout en faisant pièce aux Pisidiens d’Anaboura, d’autant plus que dans le contexte régional, le nom non-dynastique de Neapolis peut inviter à concevoir une création qui ne fut pas séleucide. L’emprise limitée de l’établissement peut indiquer un point d’appui militaire qui ne fut pas destiné à devenir une cité influente comme le furent les fondations séleucides dans la région, de Seleukeia Sidera à Laodikeia Katakekaumene, en passant par Antioche de Pisidie. Le fait que Neapolis ne semble pas avoir frappé monnaie va dans ce sens. Si en revanche Apollonia de Pisidie fut une refondation séleucide de

Dans ce même contexte, il est possible de formuler quelques hypothèses quant à l’origine des colons lyciens de Phrygie Parorée. Ces Lyciens ont pu venir de Telmessos, une principauté tombée aux mains des Attalides en 188 av. J.-C. grâce au traité d’Apamée, mais ils peuvent tout aussi bien être issus de Milyade ou de Kibyratide parce que plusieurs conflits violents eurent lieu entre la confédération lycienne d’une part et d’autre part les tyrans de Kibyratide et les Pisidiens de Termessos, cela à la faveur de l’effacement de l’influence de Rhodes par la volonté romaine après 167 avant notre ère.115 Pour ces raisons, on peut

mesures de rétorsion envers leur allié, d’une part en demandant à la puissance du Dodécanèse d’évacuer la Carie et la Lycie, d’autre part en faisant de Délos un port franc qui concurrença le commerce de Rhodes (voir Polybe, 30, 5, 12 ; M. Sartre 2004: 160). En Lycie, le décret d’Araxa en l’honneur d’Orthagoras montre la situation chaotique qui résulta des conflits civiques régionaux impliquant au moins Araxa, Tlôs, Boubôn, Kibyra, Termessos et Xanthos, possiblement vers 155150 av. J.-C. d’après Bresson 1999: 116-117. Sur le décret d’Araxa, cf. Bean 1948: 46-56, n° 1; Robert et Robert, Bull. épigr. 1950: 185-197, n° 183; Sartre 2004: 204-206. 116  Sur les tyrans de Kibyratide portant ce nom au IIe siècle av. J.-C. et le contexte politique chaotique après 167, voir Bresson 2007: 74; Kokkinia (éd.) 2008: 15-23; Dumitru 2021. 117  Polybe, 30, 28, 1. 118  Cf. par exemple MAMA, VIII, 354 ; 361 ; 373 (deux occurrences); 375 ; 391.

Pour ce qui concerne les rapports entre la Bithynie et la Thrace, voir Avram 2013: 111-132. 111  Voir notamment Holleaux 1924: 1-57; 1938: 114-116. La cité mysienne semble avoir subi l’influence attalide dès l’époque de la chute d’Antiochos Hiérax, mais elle pourrait avoir été l’objet de luttes entre les Séleucides et le royaume de Bithynie à l’époque d’Antiochos III (cf. Ma 2004: 66 et 269, n. 126). 112  Tanrıver et Kütük 1993: 100-101, n° 1 (= SEG, 43, 879); cf. aussi Schuler 1998: 191, n. 139. 113  CIG, 3960 = IGR, IV, 787. 114  Polybe, 30, 3, 3. 115  Les Rhodiens ayant refusé de s’engager aux côtés de Rome contre Persée de Macédoine, on sait que les Romains optèrent pour de lourdes 110 


Hadrien Bru Mordiaion, les Attalides paraissent nettement avoir complété son peuplement par l’installation de colons lyciens et thraces sur cet ancien site phrygien, ce qui s’accorde bien avec une fondation idoine stratégique à Neapolis, à proximité de l’ancienne localité pisidienne d’Anaboura.119 L’onomastique royale attalide est également très présente à Antioche de Pisidie,120 peutêtre un peu moins à Apollonia de Pisidie,121 mais on la retrouve logiquement aussi à Apamée de Phrygie122 au cours de l’époque impériale, tout comme à Tymbriada.123 Notons que le dispositif colonial attalide fut complété par la fondation d’Eumeneia afin de protéger le flanc septentrional de la Phrygie Parorée, le lieu restant un site de garnison encore à la période romaine.124 Quant à Antioche de Pisidie, la continuité des liens qu’elle entretint avec Pergame sur la longue durée se manifesta en partie durant le Haut-Empire par l’entremise des gouverneurs de Galatie, des thiases dionysiaques et du culte impérial (voir Bru et Demirer 2007: 35-49; Levick 1967: 124-127).

de la Thrace des Détroits ou de la Thrace égéenne pour Apollonia de Pisidie et Neapolis de Phrygie. Les Macédoniens, qui ont créé ces mouvements, n’ont cependant pas hésité à faire venir également des Juifs de régions continentales telles que la Babylonie et la Mésopotamie. L’approche de ces peuplements hellénistiques est d’autant plus délicate, nous l’avons vu, qu’elle doit être surtout effectuée par le prisme des représentations identitaires et de la documentation issues de l’époque impériale romaine. Abréviations AE L’Année épigraphique AJA American Journal of Archaeology AS Anatolian Studies BCH Bulletin de Correspondance Hellénique Bull. épigr. Bulletin épigraphique, dans la Revue des Études Grecques CCG Cahiers du Centre G. Glotz CIG Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum CIL Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum EA Epigraphica Anatolica EJ J.R.S. Sterrett, An Epigraphical Journey in Asia Minor, Papers of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, II, Damrell & Upham, Boston, 1888 IGR Inscriptiones Graecae ad res Romanas pertinentes ILS H. Dessau, Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae, Berlin, 1892-1916. JRS Journal of Roman Studies LGPN A Lexicon of Greek Personal Names MAMA Monumenta Asiae Minoris Antiqua NIA M.A. Byrne & G. Labarre (éds), Nouvelles inscriptions d’Antioche de Pisidie d’après les Note-books de W.M. Ramsay [IGSK n° 67], Habelt, Bonn, 2006 OGIS W. Dittenberger, Orientis Graeci Inscriptiones Selectae, Leipzig, 1903-1905 PIR Prosopographia Imperii Romani RE Realencyclopädie der classischen Altertumwissenschaft RÉA Revue des Études Anciennes RECAM, II Regional Epigraphic Catalogues of Asia Minor, II, The Ankara district. The inscriptions of North Galatia, British Archaeological Reports International Series 135, Oxford, 1982 RÉG Revue des Études Grecques RN Revue Numismatique RPh Revue de Philologie SEG Supplementum Epigraphicum Graecum TAM Tituli Asiae Minoris TAPhA Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association WE J.R.S. Sterrett, The Wolfe Expedition to Asia Minor, Papers of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, III, Damrell and Upham, Boston, 1888

En définitive, les conclusions de cette enquête ont été dictées par le contexte historique tendu du IIe siècle avant notre ère, par la géopolitique de la Phrygie Parorée, mais aussi de la Lycie, de la Milyade, de la Kibyratide et de la Pisidie. La prestigieuse dynastie séleucide, de Séleukos Ier à Antiochos III, a bien installé l’essentiel des premières vagues de katoikoi en Phrygie Parorée, mais Eumène II et Attale ont ensuite organisé la région comme nous l’avons évoqué. On observe en tout cas une colonisation venant souvent directement des côtes anatoliennes  : principalement de Magnésie du Méandre pour Antioche de Pisidie, mais encore Voir L. Zgusta 1984: 71, § 62-2. Strabon (12, 7, 2) nous transmet par Artémidore d’Éphèse (ca. 100 av. J.-C.) la liste de treize cités pisidiennes, parmi lesquelles on compte Anaboura. Pour une attestation de l’anthroponyme Ἄτταλος à Anaboura, cf. WE: 206-214, n° 339-342 = I. Sultan Dağı, 580 = Özsait et al. 2007: 128-142, n° 1. 120  Pour l’anthroponyme Ἄτταλος, cf. par exemple SEG, 6, 570 ; 576 ; NIA: 17, n° 4 (2 occurrences) ; 107-108, n° 209 (Attalus) ; pour Εὐμένης, cf. SEG, 6, 579. 121  On y trouve cependant une inscription relative à la famille de C. Iulius Severus (MAMA, IV, 139 ; PIR², I, 573), qui se dit descendant du « roi d’Asie Attale » dans une inscription d’Ancyre (IGR, III, 173, ligne 6) en 114 de notre ère (cf. I. Ancyra, 72-73 avec les commentaires et infra). Voir aussi Özsait et al. 2011: 275, n° 11 (Ἄταλος : pour une même orthographe du nom à Seleukeia Sidera, cf. Labarre et al. 2010: 82, n° 1. Pour une attestation d’ Ἄτταλος encore à l’époque byzantine à Seleukeia Sidera, cf. Laflı 2002: 318, n° 2). Plus au Sud-Est, à Adada, pour Ἄτταλος, voir Özsait et al. 2010: 96 et 108, n° 14. 122  Pour l’anthroponyme Ἄτταλος, cf. IGR, IV, 773-775 ; pour Εὐμένης, cf. IGR, IV, 791 (nom d’un épimélète fils de Dionysios) et Τ. Πετρώνιος Εὐμένης sur une stèle funéraire. Sur les épitaphes d’Apamée de Phrygie, voir Bresson 2011: 295-308; à propos de la gens Petronia dans la région, cf. notamment L. Petronius Alexander à Antioche de Pisidie (NIA, p. 100, n° 185 = W.M. Ramsay Note-books 1912 B n° 153 et 1912/13 n° 140). 123  Au IIe siècle de notre ère, l’épimélète de Tymbriada qui dédie la statue du dieu-fleuve Eurymédon au sanctuaire de Mètèr Theôn Ouegeinos (Zindan Mağarası) s’appelle Attale, fils, petit-fils et arrièrepetit-fils d’Attale (Kaya et Mitchell 1985: 50). 124  Eutrope (IV, 4, 2) attribue la fondation à Eumène II, alors que Stéphane de Byzance (s.v. « Eumeneia ») postule pour une création d’Attale II en l’honneur de son frère. Voir les références utiles dans Cohen 1995: 301-305. 119 


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territoires. Actes du colloque international de Tours (2122 octobre 2005): 263-287. Rennes. Bru, H., Labarre, G. & Özsait, M. 2009. La constitution civique de Tymandos. Anatolia Antiqua 17: 187-207. Bru, H., Demirer, Ü. & Tüner Önen, N. 2016. Inscriptions de Pergè. ZPE 199: 65-82. Bru, H. 2017. La Phrygie Parorée et la Pisidie septentrionale aux époques hellénistique et romaine. Géographie historique et sociologie culturelle. Leiden/Boston. Calder, W.M. 1912. Colonia Caesareia Antiocheia. JRS 2: 78-109. Calder, W.M. 1932. Inscriptions of Southern Galatia. AJA 36: 452-464. Calder, W.M. 1956. A Hellenistic survival at Eucarpia. AS 6: 49-51. Christol, M. & Drew-Bear, T. 1987. Un castellum romain près d’Apamée de Phrygie. Wien. Christol, M. & Drew-Bear, T. 1998. Le prince et ses représentants aux limites de l’Asie et de la Galatie : un nouveau questeur et un nouveau proconsul d’Asie sous Septime Sévère. CCG 9: 141-164. Cohen, G.M. 1978. The Seleucid Colonies. Studies in Founding, Administration and Organization. Wiesbaden. Cohen, G.M. 1995. The Hellenistic Settlements in Europe, the Islands and Asia Minor. Berkeley/Los Angeles/Oxford. Dana, D. 2011. Les Thraces dans les armées hellénistiques  : essai d’ ‘histoire par les noms’, dans J.-C. Couvenhes, S. Crouzet & S. Péré-Noguès (dir.) Pratiques et identités culturelles dans les armées hellénistiques: 87-115. Bordeaux. Dana, D. 2014. Onomasticon Thracicum : répertoire des noms indigènes de Thrace, Macédoine orientale, Mésies, Dacie et Bithynie. Paris. Detschew, D. 1957. Die thrakischen Sprachreste. Wien. Dmitriev, S. 2005. City Government in Hellenistic and Roman Asia Minor. Oxford. Drew-Bear, T. & Labarre, G. 2002. Les trois statues de la Concorde à Antioche de Pisidie. EA 34: 71-92. Dumitru, A. 2021. The tyrants of the Hellenistic East, dans S. Lewis (éd.) Tyranny: New Contexts: 161-198. Besançon. Franke, P.R. & Nollé, M.K. 1997. Die Homonoia-Münzen Kleinasiens und der thrakischen Randgebiete. Saarbrücken. French, D.H. 1984. The year’s work. AS 34: 10-11. Gauthier, P. 1989. Nouvelles inscriptions de Sardes II. Genève. Grainger, J.D. 1990. Seleukos Nikator: Constructing a Hellenistic Kingdom. London/New York. Grainger, J.D. 2002. The Roman war of Antiochos the Great. Leiden/Boston. Guillaumin, J.-Y. 2016. Organisation d’un territoire de colonie  : les exigences théoriques des textes gromatiques, dans H. Bru, G. Labarre & G. Tirologos (éds) Espaces et territoires des colonies romaines d’Orient: 13-24. Besançon. Halfmann, H. 1986. Itinera Principum. Geschichte und Typologie der Kaiserreisen im römischen Reich. Stuttgart.

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Hadrien Bru Hall, A.S. 1986. R.E.C.A.M. Notes and Studies n° 9. The Milyadeis and Their Territory. AS 36: 137-158. Holleaux, M. 1918. Sur la lettre d’Attale aux Amladeis. RÉA 20: 17-19. Holleaux, M. 1924. Inscription trouvée à Brousse. BCH 48: 1-57. Holleaux, M. 1931/1932. La clause territoriale du traité d’Apamée (188 av. J.-C.). RÉG 44: 304-319 & RÉG 45: 7-31. Holleaux, M. 1938. Études d’épigraphie et d’histoire grecques II. Paris. Holleaux, M. 1942. Études d’épigraphie et d’histoire grecques III. Paris. Ivantchik, A., Belinskiy, A. & Dovgalev, A. 2011. Prospections sur le territoire d’Apamée et élaboration du SIG Kélainai-Apamée Kibôtos (20082010), dans L. Summerer, A. Ivantchik & A. von Kienlin (dir.) Kelainai-Apameia Kibotos. Développement urbain dans le contexte anatolien: 137-177. Bordeaux. Jones, A.H.M. 1971. The Cities of the Eastern Roman Provinces (2e éd.). Oxford. Jonnes L. & Ricl, M. 1997. A new royal inscription from Phrygia Paroreios: Eumenes II grants Tyriaion the status of a polis. EA 29: 1-29. Kaya, D. & Mitchell, S. 1985. The Sanctuary of the God Eurymedon at Tymbriada in Pisidia. AS 35: 39-55. Kearsley, R.A. 1994. The Milyas and the Attalids: a decree of the city of Olbasa and a new royal letter of the second century B.C. AS 44: 47-57. Kienast, D. 1996. Römische Kaisertabelle. Grundzüge einer römischen Kaiserchronologie (2e éd.). Darmstadt. Kokkinia, C. (éd.) 2008. Boubon. The inscriptions and archaeological remains. A survey 2004-2006. Athènes. Kretschmer, P. 1970 (1896). Einleitung in die Geschichte der griechieschen Sprache. Göttingen. Laflı, E. 2002. Notes on the history of Seleuceia Sidera in Pisidia (south-western Turkey) : second preliminary report on the inscriptions, dans P. Freeman et al. (eds) Limes XVIII. Proceedings of the XVIIIth International Congress of Roman Frontier Studies held in Amman (September 2000), vol. I: 313-326. British Archaeological Reports International Series 1084. Oxford. Le Bas, P. & Waddington, W.H. 1870. Voyage archéologique en Grèce et en Asie Mineure, Inscriptions III, 5e partie. Paris. Leschhorn, W. 2009. Lexikon der Aufschriften auf griechischen Münzen, II, Ethnika und Beamtennamen. Wien. Levick, B. 1967. Roman Colonies in Southern Asia Minor. Oxford. Ma, J. 2004. Antiochos III et les cités de l’Asie Mineure occidentale. Paris. Maier, F.G. 1959. Griechische Mauerbauinschriften I. Heidelberg. Maiuri, A. 1925. Nuova Silloge epigrafica di Rodi e Cos. Firenze.

Malay, H. 1987. Letter of Antiochos III to Zeuxis with two covering letters (209 B.C.). EA 10: 7-17. Malay, H. 2004. A copy of the letter of Antiochos III to Zeuxis (209 B.C.), dans H. Heftner & K. Tomaschitz (éds) Festschrift für Gerhard Dobesch zum 65. Geburtstag: 407-413. Wien. Merkelbach, R. & Stauber, J. 2001. Steinepigramme aus dem griechischen Osten, 3, Der « Ferne Osten » und das Landesinnere bis zum Tauros. München/Leipzig. Meyer, E. 1925. Die Grenzen der hellenistischen Staaten in Kleinasien. Zürich/Leipzig. Mileta, C. 2008. Der König und sein Land. Untersuchungen zur Herrschaft der hellenistischen Monarchen über das königliche Gebiet Kleinasiens und seine Bevölkerung. Berlin. Mionnet, T.E. 1833. Description de médailles antiques, grecques et romaines, Suppl. 6. Paris. Mitchell, S. 1978. Roman residents and Roman property in southern Asia Minor, dans E. Akurgal (éd.) Proceedings of the Xth International Congress of Classical Archaeology: 311-318. Ankara. Mitchell, S. 1993. Anatolia. Land, Men and Gods in Asia Minor II. Oxford. Mitchell, S. & Waelkens, M. 1998. Pisidian Antioch. The Site and Its Monuments. London/Swansea. Müller, H. 2000. Der hellenistische Archiereus. Chiron 30: 519-542. Nollé, J. 2006. Beiträge zur kleinasiatischen Münzkunde und Geschichte 4-5. Gephyra 3: 49-131. Özsait, M., Labarre, G. & Özsait, N. 2007. Sites et inscriptions de la plaine Cillanienne. Anatolia Antiqua 15: 113-146. Özsait, M., Labarre, G. & Özsait, N. 2010. Monuments funéraires et inscriptions de Pisidie (BurdurIsparta). Anatolia Antiqua 18: 59-89. Özsait, M., Labarre, G. & Özsait, N. 2011. Nouvelles inscriptions et monuments de la vallée d’Apollonia (Phrygie-Pisidie). Adalya 14: 271-290. Özsait, M., Labarre, G., Özsait, N. & Güceren, İ. 2010. Taşkapı  : un chôrion sur le territoire d’Adada  ? Adalya 13: 91-109. Ramsay, W.M. 1890. The Historical Geography of Asia Minor. London. Ramsay, W.M. 1895-1897. Cities and Bishoprics of Phrygia. Oxford. Ramsay, W.M. (éd.) 1906. Studies in History and Art of the Eastern Provinces of the Roman Empire. Aberdeen. Ramsay, W.M. 1922. Studies in the Roman Province Galatia. III. Imperial Government of the Province of Galatia. JRS 12: 147-186. Rebuffat, F. 1986. Alexandre le Grand et Apollonia de Pisidie. RN 28, 6e série: 65-71. Ritterling, E. 1925. RE XII/2, s.v. Legio: col. 1329-1829. Robert, L. 1937. Études anatoliennes. Recherches sur les inscriptions grecques de l’Asie Mineure. Paris. Robert, L. 1938. Études épigraphiques et philologiques. Paris. 70

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Robert, L. 1943. Notes et discussions. Voyages épigraphiques en Asie Mineure. RPh 68: 170-201. Robert, L. 1962. Villes d’Asie Mineure (2e éd.). Paris. Robert, L. 1963. Noms indigènes dans l’Asie Mineure grécoromaine. Paris. Robert, L. Hellenica XIII. Paris. Robert, L. 1967. Monnaies grecques. Types, légendes, magistrats monétaires et géographie. Genève/Paris. Robert, L. 1980. À travers l’Asie Mineure. Poètes et prosateurs, monnaies grecques, voyageurs et géographie. Athènes/Paris. Robinson, D.M. 1926. Greek and Latin inscriptions from Asia Minor. TAPhA 57: 195-237. Sartre, M. 1991. L’Orient romain. Provinces et sociétés provinciales en Méditerranée orientale d’Auguste aux Sévères (31av. J.-C.-235 ap. J.-C.). Paris. Sartre, M. 2004. L’Anatolie hellénistique, de l’Égée au Caucase (2e éd., 1re éd. 2003). Paris. Schalit, A. 1960. The letter of Antiochus III to Zeuxis regarding the establishment of Jewish military colonies in Phrygia and Lydia. Jewish Quarterly Review 50: 289-318. Schmitt, H.H. 1964. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte Antiochos’ des Grossen und seiner Zeit. Wiesbaden. Schuler, C. 1998. Ländliche Siedlungen und Gemeinden im hellenistischen und römischen Kleinasien. München. Schuler, C. 1999. Kolonisten und Einheimische in einer attalidischen Polisgründung. ZPE 128: 124-132. Segre, M. 1938. Iscrizioni di Licia. Clara Rhodos 9: 190207. Sheppard, A.R.R. 1984-2986. Homonoia in the Greek Cities of the Roman Empire. Ancient Society 15-17: 229-252. Speidel, M.A. 2016. Maximinus and the Thracians. Herodian on the coup of 235, and ethnic networks in the Roman army in the third century CE, dans V. Cojocaru, A. Rubel et al. (éds) Mobility in Research on the Black Sea Region: 339-365. Cluj/Napoca. Stinton, T.C.W. 1976. Iphigenia and the Bears of Brauron. The Classical Quarterly 26/1: 11-13.

Strobel, K. 1996. Die Galater. Geschichte und Eigenart der keltischen Staatbildung auf dem Boden des hellenistischen Kleinasien I. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte und geographischen Geographie der hellenistischen und römischen Kleinasien. Berlin. Swoboda, H., Keil, J. & Knoll, F. 1935. Denkmäler aus Lykaonien, Pamphylien und Isaurien. Wien. Syme, R. 1995. Anatolica. Studies in Strabo (éd. A. Birley). Oxford. Tanrıver, C. & Kütük, S. 1993. The katoikia of Daphnous and the sanctuary of Apollon Daphnousios in the territory of Apollonia ad Rhyndacum. EA 21: 99102. Thériault, G. 1996. Le culte d’Homonoia dans les cités grecques. Lyon/Québec. Thonemann, P. 2015. Pessinous and the Attalids: a new royal letter. ZPE 194: 117-128. Virgilio, B. 2003. Lancia, diadema e porpora. Il re e la regalità ellenistica (2e éd., 1re éd. 1999). Pisa. Welles, C.B. 1966. Royal Correspondence in the Hellenistic Period. A Study in Greek Epigraphy (2e éd., 1re éd. 1934). Roma. Will, E. 2003. Histoire politique du monde hellénistique (32330 av. J.-C.) II (2e éd.). Paris. Wörrle, M. 1978. Epigraphische Forschungen zur Geschichte Lykiens II. Ptolemaios II. und Telmessos. Chiron 8: 201-246. Wörrle, M. 1979. Epigraphische Forschungen zur Geschichte Lykiens III. Ein hellenistischer Königsbrief aus Telmessos. Chiron 9: 83-111. Zgusta, L. 1964. Kleinasiatische Personennamen. Prag. Zgusta, L. 1984. Kleinasiatische Ortsnamen. Heidelberg. Zwingmann, N. 2011. Erinnerungslandschaften und Identitäten in einer kulturellen Kontaktzone: Mythen und Denkmäler in Kelainai-Apameia Kibotos, dans L. Summerer, A. Ivantchik & A. von Kienlin (dir.) Kelainai-Apameia Kibotos. Développement urbain dans le contexte anatolien: 93-116. Bordeaux.


Part 2

Economics and imperial domination


The introduction of Hellenic cults in Seleukid Syria: colonial appropriation and transcultural exchange in the creation of an Imperial landscape *

Rolf Strootman Settlers and natives belong together. You cannot have the one or the other, for it is the relationship between them that makes one a settler and the other a native. To do away with one, you have to do away with the other.1

A recent survey of the evolution of territory as a concept in European political thought begins with the Ancient Greek notion of autochthony: this is the idea that people live on the land that their ancestors had originally sprung from – that they own the land because ‘they’ had been there since the beginning of time (Elden 2013: 21-26). This specific form of communal identity apparently first developed in 5th-century Athens to make sense of the double meaning of polis as community and polis as place. In the concept of autochthony, citizenship and ethnic identity merged in a powerful new ideology that linked the ideal of shared descent to ownership of a particular territory. The idea however is uncharacteristic for Ancient Greece (and perhaps uncharacteristic for the Ancient Mediterranean in general), where narratives of migration are more often pivotal in local identity formation. To be sure, the 5thcentury Athenians knew narratives of migration, too, and they prudently integrated autochthony myth in the pre-existing mythology of arrival and settlement (Hall 2002: 30-36).2 1

People who migrated from the Aegean to the east in the wake of the Macedonian conquests were often of varied origins. Some came from Greek-style poleis – themselves a mixed lot to begin with – while others may have come from communities that had less outspoken Hellenic identities, or from rural areas. For these migrants, autochthony was not an option. How did they make sense of the relationship between themselves and the new location where they came to live? How did they legitimate the polis institutions that ruled the social organization of their communities? What was their relationship with the new land and how did This paper was presented at the Eighth Celtic Conference of Classics at Edinburgh, 25-28 June 2014, for the panel ‘Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures in the Hellenistic and Roman East (IIIrd century BC – IIIrd century AD)’. I would like to thank Hadrien Bru and Adrian Dumitru for organizing this inspiring and lively meeting. 1  Mahmood Mamdani in his inaugural lecture at the University of Cape Town, 1998; cited by Krog 2000: 149. 2  On the emergence of Athenian myths of autochthony, see Blok 2009: 251-275. *

they interact and communicate with local populations already present? In this contribution I will address these questions by focusing on north Syria in the 3rd century BCE, one of the core regions of the Seleukid Empire.3 Specifically I will discuss colonization and identity formation as a deliberate imperial policy of the Seleukid dynasty and court. For the period of Archaic colonization (c. 700-600 BCE), questions pertaining to ethnicity and identity have been amply addressed. Irad Malkin, Jonathan Hall and others have pointed out the fundamental role of religion in the shaping of identity and community among settler populations. Several recent studies moreover have shown that diasporic narratives linking Archaic settlements to specific Greek mētropoleis usually were created retrospectively: although the traditional foundation dates of these colonies are sometimes corroborated by archaeological evidence suggesting the appearance of overseas settlers around the alleged time of founding (Osborne 1996: 119-127), polis institutions and Hellenic identities typically are not attested for the apoikiai before the 5th century BCE (Hall 2007: 100110; Giangiulio 2010: 121-136).4 In order to strengthen communal identity or to justify in retrospect the dominance of a particular social or ethnic group, foundation myths typically attribute the establishment of a colony to a single, ethnically homogeneous group For this author’s perspective on the empire see my entries on the Seleukid Empire for the Encyclopaedia Iranica (2008) and the Encyclopedia of Ancient History (2012). In brief, I see premodern empires not as bounded ‘states’ but as shifting transcultural networks of interaction and exchange that loosely unite multiple polities and peoples. Empires are based on conquest (which in its ideal form can be described as the dual practice of violently removing established elites and co-opting their rivals) and negotiation, and centered around a (mobile) dynastic core: the court. The court can be defined as a ritualized contact zone were power relations are (re)negotiated, and where the empire’s imagined universalistic sovereignty is assumed to reside. For the Seleukid Empire as a negotiated enterprise consisting of several core regions, see Strootman 2011: 141-153, and 2013: 67-97. For the integrative facilities of the imperial court, see Strootman 2007. 4  For the process of emanation of the idea of Hellenicity/Greekness, see Malkin 2005: 56-74. 3 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 73–91

Rolf Strootman of ‘founding fathers’, arriving at a predestined place under the dual guidance of a deity – Apollo of Delphi in particular – and a posthumously heroized oikist. In some cases, such as Naukratis in Egypt, a coherent ideology of origin did not emerge until the Hellenistic period (see below). These new insights may be relevant for our understanding of Hellenistic colonization, too.

presence of ethnic Hellenes from mainland Greece.8 In what follows, three insights that have emerged from recent studies of Archaic colonization will be tentatively used as starting points for the current investigation: the understanding of Hellenicity as a means to create cohesion among populations of diverse origins; the pivotal role of myths and cults in the shaping of notions of belonging and ownership; and Richard White’s concept of ‘middle ground’ which has informed Irad Malkin’s influential rethinking of transcultural negotiation and exchange.

Thus, a new view of Archaic colonization has emerged, one in which processes of migration and transcultural exchange are seen as more wide-ranging and drawn-out than foundation narratives suggest. The populations of the ‘Greek’ apoikiai in North Africa, Italy and beyond often were a mixed lot. They originated from various Aegean regions and towns and intermingled with local populations to a much higher degree than scholars previously assumed – and demographically and culturally remained in flux throughout their existence.5 A case in point is the alleged establishment of Naukratis in the Nile Delta ‘by Miletos’ at a given date in the 6th century BCE. This foundation myth, recorded only by Strabo (17.1.18 [801C]) in c. 25 BCE, is likely a creation of the Hellenistic period, when Miletos presented itself internationally as an important colonizing (and Hellenizing) mētropolis; in fact, colonists from various poleis, including Milesians, had settled in Naukratis in the course of time (Drijvers 1999: 16-22; Austin 1970: 45; Demetriou 2012: 105-102).6

Colonization in the early Hellenistic period differed, of course, from the seaborne migration of Greeks in these earlier centuries in several respects. First of all, the Aegean settlers of the Hellenistic period could avail themselves of an existing notion of Hellenicity; consciously boosted by the imperial courts, this Hellenicity transformed into a highly prestigious ‘reference culture’; Hellenicity in the Hellenistic World became increasingly non-ethnic and non-territorial, as for civic elites it came to signify allegiance to the empire and participation in a globalizing koinē of interconnected cities.9 Second, Hellenistic-period colonization was an intrinsic part of the competitive empire-building that took place in the decades following the death of Alexander. This means, lastly, that migration was actively supported, and to a considerable degree organized, by imperial dynasties that originated, like the majority of the settlers, from the Aegean. The ‘cultural policy’ of the early Seleukids in Syria therefore may provide an interesting case study for the uses and meanings of Hellenic identity in the Hellenistic period.

In recent literature on Archaic colonization, the idea of Hellenic purity has been all but abandoned.7 But in Hellenistic studies it is still commonly held that the attestation in the Middle East and central Asia of material culture and visual style that modern scholarship has labelled ‘Greek’, indicates the

The creation of an imperial landscape

See, i.a., Hall 2004: 35-54, arguing that traces of bilingualism in Greek texts from the colonies of Sicily and southern Italy suggests a strong intermixture of migrants and local populations. Also concerning the so-called ‘first wave’ of Greek colonization in the Aegean (c. 1000-800 BCE), a dynamic model of transcultural entanglement presumably seems more fitting than the notion of a clearcut, unidirectional flow of people and ideas from the Greek mainland to colonies in western Asia Minor; cf. Antonaccio 2001: 113-157. M. Carstens (2011: 483-493), points out that although polis institutions and a Greek identity were in place in cities on the Halikarnassos peninsula by the 5th century BCE, and civic populations traced back their origins exclusively to migrants from the Greek mainland, there is no archaeological evidence that this colonization actually took place; also see Scheer (1993) for the significance of wandering heroes like Perseus, Herakles, Telephos for the creation of links to the Greek mainland by non-Greek communities in Asia Minor, and H.-J. Gehrke (2005: 50-67) for understanding such heroes as mediators between ‘Greeks’ and ‘Barbarians’. 6  Another interesting case of Hellenistic identity formation is Ay Khanoum in Baktria, where a connection with Delphi, and thus Apollo, was established only a century or so after the city’s (re) foundation by, presumably, Antiochos I; see Lerner 2003-2004: 373410; Mairs 2015: 103-28. 7  The idea of Hellenicity in fact reached fruition only in the early 5th century BCE in mainland Greece (Hall 2002; Malkin 2005; Giangiulio 2010), although colonial communities themselves may have played an important role in the development of this shared identity (Malkin 2005: 72). For a different view see Antonaccio 2014: 32-53. 5 

Northwest Syria had become the focus of settlement strategies by the new Macedonian rulers already before Seleukos I Nikator conquered the region in c. 300 BCE.10 Seleukos I and Antiochos I continued the improvement of the region’s geopolitical significance as a hub of land and sea routes connecting the Levant to Anatolia and Mesopotamia, making it one of the core regions of the Seleukid hegemonial system (see Map 1) (Cohen 2006: 71-140 for sources; also Grainger 1990). Such top-down manipulation of landscape, demography and social E.g. at Ay Khanoum and Babylon; at both sites, however, archaeological evidence for major Greek cults is lacking; see respectively Hoo 2015: 34-40 and Strootman 2013. 9  On Hellenism as imperial culture: Strootman 2014a: 7-11; 2006a: 69-80; 2006b: 79-97. On the role of the court in creating and disseminating this imperial culture: Strootman 2010b: 30-45. On the interconnectedness of Hellenistic cities in relation to the spread of polis institutions: Ma 2003: 9-39, is foundational, cf. also Michels 2013: 283-307. For the current state of globalization approaches to the Ancient World, see Pitts and Versluys (eds) 2015. 10  The introduction of Macedonian toponyms may have predated Seleukos Nikator, as Strabo 16.2.10 indicates that Apameia was founded on the site of a Macedonian settlement named Pella. 8 


The introduction of Hellenic cults in Seleukid Syria

Map 1. The northern Levant in early Hellenistic Times.

memory had a long history in this region (Harmanşah 2012: 53-77; 2013).11

the imposition of Macedonian and dynastic toponyms, and several ostensibly Hellenic cults, the region was intentionally transformed into what may be called an imperial landscape, known already in the Hellenistic period as ‘the Seleukis’.14

A strong military foothold in northwestern Syria would also give the Seleukid house routine access to the Aegean via the sea route running parallel to the Anatolian south coast.12 Apart from the establishment of cities, towns and fortresses (and the encouragement of migration to these settlements), the process of ‘colonization’ comprised the construction of military strongholds and the maintenance of a system of military roads. Settlers were veterans from Seleukos’ army who were given land in the Amuq Valley, migrants from Greece and Asia Minor, and probably also came from Syria itself.13 The four principal cities constructed here (in what seems to have been a concerted plan) – Seleukeia in Pieria, Antiocheia on the Orontes, Laodikeia on the Sea, Apameia on the Axios (= Orontes) – were known as the Syrian Tetrapolis; moreover, through

The region’s central agricultural area was the lower Orontes (also Axios, mod. cĀṣī/Ası River), with the fertile Amuq Plain located halfway along the navigable part of the river in what is today the Turkish province of Hatay (Map 2). Here two cities were founded: Antiocheia-by-Daphne (better known as Antiocheia on the Orontes, or ‘Antioch’), a provincial centre attaching the Amuq Plain to the Orontes; and Seleukeia, a seaport near the mouth of the river (Cohen 2006: 80-93, 126135; Grainger 1990: 122-129).15 The cities were named respectively after the king’s father and himself. It was in the ‘royal city’ Seleukeia that the empire’s founder, Seleukos, was entombed, allegedly in accordance with his own wish.16 The capture of Seleukeia by Ptolemaic forces at the beginning of the Laodikean War (246-241) was a severe blow to Seleukid prestige and a minor disaster for the empire’s geopolitical project. The region however again became an international hub after the recapture of Seleukeia by Antiochos III in 219; its prominence even increased when Antiochos

Nor was it the last time that imperial rulers tried to comprehensively impose empire on the Syrian landscape, cf., e.g., De Giorgi 2007: 283-99. For earlier forced relocations of people by imperial powers in the Middle East, see Oded 1979); van der Spek 2014: 37-38. The possibility of an Achaemenid colonization program in Asia Minor has been investigated by N. Sekunda (1985: 7-30; 1988: 175-96; 1991: 83-143). For the persistence of Iranian communities in Asia Minor from the Achaemenid to the Hellenistic period, see Briant 1985: 167-95. 12  For the systematic development of seaports along the north Syrian coastline by the first Seleukid kings, see Gatier 2008: 269-284. 13  Population growth on the Amuq Plain, to be connected with the Seleukid colonization program, has been attested by recent archaeological surveys (below, n. 25). For the possible origins of the Aegean colonists, see Coloru 2013: 37-56. See also Saliou 19992000: 357-88, esp. 359-366, for tentatively identifying Late Antiquity (inter alia Argive, Cretan, Cypriot) identities on the basis of the cults recorded by Libanios and Malalas. The presence of non-Greek, viz. Levantine, inhabitants in Late Hellenistic Antioch has been recorded by Strabo 16.2; Jos., AJ 12.119, and BJ 7.43.44. 11 

Strabo 16.2.4. Cohen (2006: 26) emphasizes that the imposition of Macedonian and Hellenic toponyms (e.g. Aigai, Beroia, Chalkis, Edessa, Oropos, Pella, Perinthos) is typical of Syria and Kilikia; the practice is not encountered among the Seleukid settlements in Asia Minor. The prevalence of names from Macedonia, Thessaly, Thrace, and Epeiros may mean that such name-giving was connected with the settlement of soldier communities. Greek and Macedonian toponyms reappearing in the Near East are also listed by Cohen (2006: 407-408). 15  Medieval sources ascribe the foundation of Antioch to a legendary ‘Antiochos’ (Cohen 2006: 85). 16  App., Syr. 63; Just. 15.4.7-8. 14 


Rolf Strootman

Map 2. The principal Seleukid foundations in the lower Orontes region (author/Ancient World Mapping Center).

IV began promoting the development of Antioch as a major imperial city, continuing his father’s policy of developing connections with the Aegean poleis.17

recorded would serve this purpose. The 6th-century Christian compiler Malalas, by contrast, incorporated in his Chronographia pagan traditions about Antioch’s history with no such agenda, and his interest in local myths and folktale is quite genuine.20 The authenticity of Libanios’ and Malalas’ accounts is often minimalized as inventions of the (late) Roman period; but what they say can often be corroborated by Hellenistic-period and early Roman writers, including Polybios, Diodoros, Strabo, Appian, and Justin. This is not to say of course that these stories were never adjusted to later contexts, or that in later contexts selections were made (on the phenomenon of ‘tradition’ see also below).

A conspicuous, and to my mind essential, aspect of the imposition of empire on the Syrian landscape is the overall religious nature of the imperial landscape that developed pari passu with the process of colonization. Foundation myths explaining the origins of sanctuaries and cults have been most extensively preserved in later Roman authors, above all Libanios and Malalas (Downey 1961: 29-32; Ogden 2011: 149-60).18 These sources should be approached with caution. Libanios, a pagan orator from 4th-century Antioch and a supporter of Julian the Apostate, often aimed at glorifying his native city as an age-old centre of Hellenism (Norman 2000; Wiemer 2003: 442-68; Millar 2009: 177-88).19 It is difficult to see, however, how the many curious mythical elements he

The myth of the ‘empty land’ What the founding myths have in common, is that the ritual acts of foundation performed by Seleukos Nikator concern the establishment of sanctuaries rather than of settlements per se. There is no accompanying conquest myth to explain and justify the subordination of one ethnic or social group to another.21 Instead, the land is presented as uninhabited, unclaimed terra nullius. However, the new sanctuaries all have their own myths that associate certain sacred place and geographical features in the Syrian landscape with the

Expansion of Antioch under Antiochos IV: Strabo 16.2.4; cf. Downey 1961: 55-63; Mittag 2006: 145-149. Recently, the Amuq Valley Regional Project (AVRP, see below) has revealed a noticeable increase in human occupation and cultivation from the 3rd century BCE, when the new metropole Antioch produced a dense network of dispersed farmsteads in the central Amuq Valley, with a peak during the 2nd century BCE that is to be connected with Antiochos IV’s efforts to establish Antioch as a major center of his empire: De Giorgi 2008: 241314, esp. 250. See now also, conveniently, Hannestad 2013: 250-74, esp. 251-252, with further references. 18  Ogden rightly emphasizes the significance of serpentine imagery as references to creation myth, but is mistaken in assuming that the divine attributes associated with Zeus that turn up in these accounts (thunderbolt, eagle) must be seen as references to Alexander: it is the absence of Alexander in the Seleukid foundation myths – Lib., Or. 11.72-76, is the only exception – and the complete absence of Alexander in early Seleukid representation in general, that is most striking. As we will see, references to Zeus more likely refer to Zeus. 19  On Libanios and his context in general, see Cribiore 2007; 2013. 17 

Malalas as a source for Antiochene history and culture: Liebeschuetz 2004: 143-153; Saliou 2016: 59-76. Also see Jeffreys et al. 1990). On the incorporation of pagan myths Antioch in the Chronographia, see, most recently, Liebeschuetz 2015: 360-363, showing how Malalas made these acceptable by presenting gods as mortal heroes, and by fitting their histories into a Biblical and Christian meta-narrative. 21  On conquest ideology and social memory: Härke 2012: 108-15. 20 


The introduction of Hellenic cults in Seleukid Syria

earlier presence of Greek gods and travelling heroes, prefiguring Seleukid colonization. The altars typically are not founded but discovered. In what follows, we will look in some more detail at (1) the foundation myths of Seleukeia and Antioch, and (2) the cults and myths associated with the principal sanctuary of the Seleukid region: the sacred grove of Daphne. We will see how old and new cults merged through the introduction of myths claiming a Greek origin for old, allegedly abandoned cult places. These tales facilitated the establishment of a Seleukid ‘imperial landscape’ and the creation of new identities for the new settlements.22

The Seleukid settlements communities were not simply imported from the outside on a more or less empty region. They often were created on top of pre-existing settlements, and local populations were co-opted in the colonization program.25 The actual number of Aegean settlers probably was relatively small as compared to the non-Greek populations already present, though initially these migrants may have constituted the core of a privileged class with citizen rights.26 As Stanley Burstein noted, ‘the number of ethnic Greeks [among the citizens] can never have been large [and] as time passed, the citizen-bodies of some so-called Greek cities in the Near East were more and more composed not so much of persons of Greek birth as of Greek culture’ (Burstein 1997).27 The varied background of settlers compelled Seleukid policymakers to support the development of communal cults. The evidence discussed below suggests that they indeed actively did so and that this resulted in the formation of ‘syncretic’ deities, to use for convenience a now unpopular term. As Nicholas Wright put it, ‘the colonists brought their own Hellenic deities […], although older Semitic gods still inhabited the landscape and they in turn infiltrated the Greco-Macedonian pantheon’ (Wright 2009-2010: 193-206, esp. 193).

Communal identities in the ancient world are based most of all on collective religious practices, but also on shared ideas about the past and the relationship of the community with the landscape it inhabited.23 The identification of mythic lieux de mémoire in the Syrian landscape, and of sacred space, brought together these three aspects and provided a basis for the rituals by which collective identities among the new (settler) communities could be fashioned and negotiated. In this process, the mutual translation of Syrian and Greek deities was instrumental in the creation of local cults that could accommodate different migrant groups and indigenous populations.

Hellenicity was a means to create cohesion. Going back to the pioneering work of Louis Robert, kinship diplomacy, i.e. the organization of interstate relations on the basis of an assumed common descent, known as syngeneia (συγγένεια) in civic inscriptions, has been amply studied for the poleis of the Hellenistic world, especially in western Asia Minor (Curty 1995; Giovannini 1997: 158-162; Lücke 2000). The basic idea is that two communities share the same

When the Macedonians took control of Syria they found a vibrant social and religious landscape already in place (Teixidor 1989: 81-95; Wright 2012). We still do not know much about Achaemenid-period Syria, but the old certainty that the area was only thinly populated is no longer feasible. New archaeological research has shown that the pre-conquest Amuq region was a lively and densely populated agricultural area that Seleukid colonialism further developed. Data collected by the Amuq Valley Regional Project (AVRP), a long-term survey of the fertile plain north of Antakya, show a steady continuation of settlement patterns from the early Iron Age into the Hellenistic period. In the 3rd and 2nd centuries BCE there is an increase in population numbers and an intensification of agrarian land, and the abandonment of larger tells in favour of smaller farmsteads and bigger cities (Gerritsen et al. 2008: 241314, esp. 243; Casana and Wilkinson 2005: 25-98).24

archaeological record thereafter shows continuous habitation during the Iron Age; see Venturi 2010: 1-27; Harrison 2010: 65-81. 25  Many, if not most, Hellenistic settlements in Asia Minor were in fact refoundations, or relocations; see, e.g., Bertrand 2005: 39-49; Savalli-Lestrade 2005: 9-37; Michels 2008. Also see Fraser 1996: 172173; Downey 1961: 46-53. A complete list of all certain refoundations in Asia Minor can be found in Cohen 1995: 413-446. Downey 1961: 424425, includes all cities of the Syrian Tetrapolis (Antioch, Seleukeia, Apameia, Laodikeia) in the list of refoundations in the Near East (against a mere three certain new foundations: Jebel Khalid, Zeugma, Kyrrhos). 26  Polyb. 5.61.1 gives the rather low number of 6000 eleutheroi for Seleukeia, which suggests the existence of a specific group of citizens among the free population of the city (rather than this being merely the number of adult males as conventional scholarship assumes); for references, see Cohen 2006: 130. 27  Gehrke (2005) and Mac Sweeney (2013) both stress the permeable and fluid nature of Greek ethnicity in the poleis of Asia Minor. Compare Demetriou (2012), arguing that in different Greek ‘emporia’ developed distinct communal identities as the result of contacts between diverse cultural groups. Josephus (C. Ap. 2.39; AJ 12.119; BJ 7.43-44) indicates that in Seleukid times citizenship did not extent to all social groups living in Antioch, and that it could be granted to ‘non-Greeks’ by the king; his claim that the Antiochene Jews had thus acquired citizenship is not implausible, though presumably not under Seleukos I: Antiochos III or IV would be more likely candidates as they are known to have granted politai rights to non-Greek populations in Jerusalem and Babylon (1 Macc. 11-15; 2 Macc. 4.9; Babylonian Greek Community Chronicle = BCHP 14; cf. Strootman 2013: 84-86).

This territorial aspect of Seleukid imperialism is also discussed, more extensively, in Kosmin 2014, which became available to me after the 2014 Edinburgh conference. In my paper, I diverge from Kosmin’s interpretation that the creation of a dynastic landscape in Syria implied the renunciation of empire beyond ‘Asia’ by Antiochos I, who compensated for the loss of Macedonia by creating a ‘new Macedonia’ in Syria (Kosmin 2014: 79-119); I argue instead that the policy of connecting Syria to Greece and Macedonia through cults, myths and toponyms signified forceful claims to imperial hegemony in the Aegean, and that Antiochos thereby continued his father’s Aegean policy (although the claims of the allied Antigonids to Macedonia itself were not challenged). 23  For the latter point, see Gerritsen 2004: 141-54, esp. 147-50. 24  The plateau of NW Syria was relatively unaffected by the cultural ‘breakdown’ of the Dark Age, and the Amuq Plain was the first region in the Levant where larger sites reemerge in the 10th century; the 22 


Rolf Strootman

Figure 1. View of the akropolis of Seleukeia in Pieria (Çevlik, near Samandağ) from the north (author’s photograph, 1999).

mythic ancestor, often Herakles; but it could include various other kinds of relationships. It is especially suitable for newly formed communities (or groups within those communities) to make claims of ancient origins, ‘articulating their place in the greater PanHellenic mosaic, and even justifying territorial or other political claims’ (Patterson 2010: 109-118).28 The concept of syngeneia thus is perfectly suited to enhance elite integration in an imperial world. It was especially relevant for the populations, viz., civic elites, of the new cities in the Seleukid Syria. These populations apparently were of such mixed origins that they never created exclusive relationships with a single mētropolis, even though that option, well-known and attested for the Archaic colonies since the Classical period, was readily available to them. Although it has been argued that Antioch received settlers from Argos in particular,29 Antioch never presented itself as an apoikia of Argos. Instead, communal identities were ‘Hellenic’ in the generic and flexible sense of being linked to the communal and administrative institutions of the polis,30 while the role of mētropolis was assumed, mutatis mutandis, by the dynasty.

‘On the 23rd day of the month of Xanthikos, Seleukos went up to Mount Kasios in order to sacrifice to Zeus Kasios. After completing the sacrifice and cutting the meat, Seleukos prayed (to be shown) where to found a city. Suddenly an eagle snatched the meat from the sacrifice and took it away to the old city. Following behind with his augurs, Seleukos found that the meat had been dropped near the sea below the old city, in the place called the trading-station of Pieria. Immediately he constructed walls and built the foundations of a city, which he called Seleukeia after his own name.’31 The theme of divine guidance is also present in Appian’s curt account of the founding of Seleukeia: Seleukos was shown the site by a thunderbolt, i.e., an epiphany of Zeus, and on the site where this thunderbolt struck the ground a sanctuary was founded, still operational in Appian’s own time (early 2nd century CE; see Figure 1) .32 Mount Kasios, biblical Mount Zaphon; now Jebel Aqra on the Turkish-Syrian border, is the kind of mountain that gets equated to the Olympos; its ancient peak sanctuary, dedicated to the Ugaritic storm god Hadad, ‘the Thunderer’, and later Ba’al Zephon, after Seleukos became sacred to Zeus Kasios (Niehr 1999: 152-154; Green 2003). The coastal plain to the north of the mountain was renamed Pieria, after the Macedonian region where the original Olympos was located. In Macedonian Pieria also was the principal religious centre of the Makedones – Dion. With its important sanctuary of Zeus Olympios, and an annual pan-

Foundation myths of Seleukeia and Antioch The establishment of Antioch, Seleukeia at other sites in the Lower Orontes area appears in Malalas as part of a concerted plan carried out by Seleukos Nikator. The respective acts of foundation allegedly performed by Seleukos follow a similar pattern. First, the right site for the foundation is found through divine guidance: Cf. Kühr 2006: 23-24; Clarke 2008: 199-200. On the links between local myth, communal identity, and interstate diplomacy, see Jones 1999; Gehrke 2001: 286-313; Erskine 2002: 97-16; Patterson 2010. 29  Above, n. 14. 30  For Hellenistic Seleukeia, the existence of archontes, a boulē, a dēmos and an epistatēs (an intermediary between polis and court) have been attested (Welles, RC 45 and 72.2; Gourob Papyrus, FGrH 160; IG II2 814); see Cohen 2006: 130; Mehl 1991: 99-111. 28 

Malalas 8: 199, Dindorf (ed.); transl. Smith. App., Syr., 299; also see Diod. 20.47.6. The pivotal importance of divine guidance in Greek city foundations was foregrounded by Bowden (1990: 71), rightly cautioning against understanding the selection of a site as a purely rational choice; also see Buraselis 2010: 265-274. For the significance of omens at the founding the Alexandria, see Arr., Anab. 3.1.5 and Plut., Alex. 26.5-6. 31  32 


The introduction of Hellenic cults in Seleukid Syria

Figure 2. View of Mount Silpios, and the old city of Antakya, from across the Orontes River (author’s photograph, 1999).

Macedonian festival called the Olympia, Dion had been a pivotal focus for Macedonian identity and kingship since at least the reign of Archelaos (413-399).33 The date preserved in Malalas for Seleukos’ rite of divination, 23 Xanthikos, is at the beginning of the local New Year Festival.34 That is no coincidence. Foundation rites, like New Year Festivals, were perceived as acts mirroring Creation, or as re-enactments of Creation – and thereby became themselves acts of creation.35

‘Seleukos performed a sacrifice to Zeus on the altar erected by Antigonos; he cut the meat and prayed […] for a sign to be given, to show whether he should settle the city of Antigoneia, and change its name, or he should abandon the city and found another city somewhere else. Suddenly a great eagle came down from the sky and snatched the meat of the offering from the fire on the altar. The eagle flew off to Mount Silpios, where Seleukos followed it and found the consecrated meat, with the eagle poised over it. When Seleukos and the priest and the augurs saw this marvel, they said, “We must settle here, and not in Antigoneia; the city must not be there, because the gods do not wish it.”’37

Later, when Seleukos was in Antigoneia, a city founded by Antigonos Monophthalmos on the northern Amuq Plain,36 the same thing happened. This time Zeus directs Seleukos to Mount Silpios, the future akropolis of Antioch (Figure 2): For the importance of Dion and the Olympia for Macedonian identity and political organization, see Mari 2011: 453-65, esp. 456. A deme named ‘Olympios’ has been epigraphically attested for Hellenistic Seleukeia (below, n. 85), and in Roman times Olympic Games were celebrated at Daphne (Downey 1961: 440-411). 34  The Spring Festival had become institutionalized in the Levant under Mesopotamian influence from the later 2nd millennium; see Cross 1997: 123; Wagenaar 2005). According to the Babylonian calendar the festival of Akītu began around the 21st day of the month Addaru = Xanthikos (February/March) and lasted until the Spring Equinox of 1 Nisannu/Artemisios (March/April), the first day of the new festival year. On this this day, Seleukos is said to have performed a sacrifice to Zeus on Mount Silpios (Malalas 8.199). There remained also an older Autumn Festival in the 7th month, corresponding to the Macedonian month Dios (September/October; Babylonian Tašrītu). The Macedonian and Babylonian calendar had been synchronized early in the third century BCE and connected to the Seleukid Era to become a ‘global’, i.e. imperial, system of time reckoning in addition to the multifarious local forms calendars; for the synchronism, see Hannah 2005: 82-97. The typological relationships among various Near Eastern cosmogonies in, e.g., the Mesopotamian Enuma Eliš, the Hurro-Hittite Song of Kumbarbi, the Ugaritic Ba’al Cycle, and Hesiod’s Theogony, is studied by López-Ruiz (2010). 35  As the cosmogonic imagery that is often associated with city foundations suggests, e.g. the involvement of primordial serpents or references to Chaoskampf (see below); I hope to return to this topic in a future publication. Also see Ogden 2011. 36  Diod. 20.47.5 and 108.1 emphasizes the symbolic and strategic significance of Antigoneia within Antigonos’ imperial project; for the location of the site see Cohen 2006: 76-7.

And the eagle kept on coming. When Seleukos was planning the foundation of Apameia, and was offering a bull and a goat, an eagle came down and seized the heads of the sacrificial animals, whereupon ‘Seleukos marked out the walls with the blood (of the animals)’ at the site thus pointed out to him. When he was planning to found Laodikeia-on-the-sea, an eagle again ‘came down and seized the sacrifice’. This time the bird led the king to a marsh, where a monstrous boar appeared from the reed. Seleukos slew the boar with his spear and used its blood to delineate the boundaries of the new city.38


37  Malalas 8: 199-200, Dindorf (ed.); Lib., Or. 11.88 has the eagle bring the sacrifice to the altar of Zeus Bottiaios, allegedly founded by Alexander. Both Malalas (8.201) and Libanios (Or. 11.92) claim that Seleukos resettled the Greek and Macedonian population of Antigoneia at Antioch (and probably also Seleukeia; see Cohen 2006: 76). Antigoneia was ritually ‘destroyed’ to erase the memory of Antigonos from the landscape; for this practice in general see Wright 2016: 147-166. The name Silpios is attested only in Malalas and may be a literary invention of that author; see Saliou 2010-2011: 579-578. 38  Apameia and Laodikeia: Malalas 8: 203, Dindorf (ed.); on the foundation of Laodikeia, also see Strabo 16.2.4; App., Syr. 57; Steph. Byz., s.v. ‘Laodikeia’.


Rolf Strootman In each of these four stories, Seleukos is linked to Zeus.39 Through his eagle, Zeus shows Seleukos the sites designated by Fate for future cities. King Seleukos thus becomes an instrument through which the King of Heaven acts upon the world. The parallelism of a supreme earthly king acting as the representative of Zeus is a common motif in early Hellenistic imperial representation. It features explicitly in Antigonid and Ptolemaic laudatory poetry (Strootman 2010b), and indirectly through the use of Herakles as a model for kingship (on the Great Altar of Pergamon, for instance).40 The story of Seleukos and the boar indirectly associates Seleukos with Herakles, as it presents the king as a culture hero who conquers the wilderness to make human habitation possible.

Perseus appears in his capacity of progenitor of the Persians. This suggests a late Seleukid influence.44 On this occasion, Perseus founded a cult for Zeus Keraunios on Mount Silpios which was later rediscovered by Seleukos: ‘[Seleukos] returned rejoicing to Iopolis and after three days he celebrated a festival there for Zeus Keraunios, in the temple which had been established by Perseus, the son of Pikos and Danae, on Mount Silpios, where Iopolis is situated. He performed the sacrifice on the first day of the month of Artemisios.’45 The tale suggests that this peak sanctuary was in fact an older cult for a thunderbolt-throwing storm god, a common ‘type’ of pre-Hellenistic Syrian divinity, who was now also named Zeus Keraunios (the ‘Thunderer’) – a common Hellenistic practice. The connection with a pre-Hellenistic deity and cult again indicates that despite their Late Antique date these pagan myths do not belong to the Roman-era re-emergence (or reinvention) of ‘indigenous’ culture. Malalas also claims an existing cult for Zeus Bottiaios, on or near Mount Silpios, was continued by the Macedonian rulers;46 this deity is otherwise unknown, but Bottiaia is the Macedonian district in which the royal centre Pella is located, and it is possible that this cult was created as a focus for identity, viz., the creation of esprit de corps, for Macedonian military settlers (Daubner 2012: 157-162, esp. 159).47

Another recurring trope is that of the discovery of ancient altars established by Greek heroes, and the presentation of local populations as the descendants of earlier Greek migrants. For instance, when Seleukos was looking for a site to found Seleukeia, he ‘discovered’ near the mouth of the Orontes a ‘small city situated on the mountain, which had been founded by Syros son of Agenor.’41 Syros is the name-giver of the land of Syria. More intriguing is the figure of Agenor, the first king in Syria and a grandson of Zeus and Io. Agenor is the main hub, so to speak, in a web of connections that links Syria and Phoenicia to Egypt and Europe, as we will see shortly. At Antioch, Seleukos discovered an ancient settlement on the akropolis (Mount Silpios), too. This place had been founded, ages ago, by settlers from Argos, who called it Iopolis.42 Pausanias of Antioch recounts an earlier discovery, set in the mythical past, in which the protagonist is the Argive hero Perseus:

The trope of rediscovery returns with our last example, which is the sacred grove and oracle at Daphne (presentday Harbiye), a valley located on a plateau above the Orontes, a few miles downstream from Antioch and a major civic and regional sanctuary.

‘Perseus, after ruling the Persian land for many years, learning that Iopolitans from Argos were living in the Syrian land, came to them in Syria at Mount Silpios, as to his own relatives. They received him with all honor and did obeisance before him. These same Argive Iopolitans recognized him because he too was descended from the race of the Argives. Rejoicing, they hymned him.’43

The sacred grove of Daphne The beautiful, forested valley is still popular with the population of Antakya because of its springs and either the principal Argive deity (who was associated with both Io and Herakles) or the famous sanctuary above the Plain of Argolis; the location of this town is unknown. 44  The Achaemenids and Persians were more or less banned from early Seleukid official views of the past (Strootman 2013), while Ptolemaic and later Roman propaganda equated them in an ostensibly negative way with the Seleukids; see Funck 1996: 195-215. A positive image of the Persians however emerged in Anatolia and the Levant in the context of the later Seleukid Empire, cf. Strootman and Versluys (eds) 2016. Perseus is ancestor of the Persians already in Hesiod (F 35, Merkelbach and West (eds)) and esp. Herodotos (7.61.2-3); in the late Hellenistic period Perseus became a prominent figure for identity formation in southern Anatolian poleis: Kaptan 2000: 135-144. 45  Malalas 8:199, Dindorf (ed.). On Perseus as a Seleukid dynastic model and his role in the mythology of Antioch, see Ogden 2011: 155157. 46  Malalas 8.200; cf. Lib., Or. 11.72-76, ascribing the (re)establishment of the cult to Alexander. 47  In the Seleukid army, Macedonian identity was situational and processional, no longer connected directed with the land of Macedon and perhaps more a cultural than an ethnic construct (see Houle, this volume).

If this were a Roman-period invention, some preference for Antioch might be expected, but Malalas records no such hierarchical distinction; instead, he presents the foundation of the four Syrian cities in equal terms, and as a single project. 40  On the Gigantomachy Frieze, Herakles is the gods’ human ally in the mythic war between Order and Chaos and a model for the victorious king as a sōtēr who establishes peace and order in the name of the gods; for his crucial part in defeating the infernal Giants, Herakles was, post mortem, awarded an apotheosis as an Olympian god. In Theokritos Idyll XVII, Herakles (now in the company of the deified Alexander) welcomes the deified Ptolemy in Zeus’ heavenly palace; also on the dexiosis reliefs of Antiochos I of Kommagene, a late scion of the Seleukid House, it is Herakles who welcomes the deified king. See Strootman 2005: 101-141. 41  Malalas 8: 199. Dindorf (ed.). 42  Strabo 16.2.5, claiming that several towns along the Orontes were founded by the Argive hērōs Triptolemos and his companions, who had come to Syria in search if Io; cf. Lib., Or. 11.91; Malalas 8.201. 43  Pausanias of Antioch FHG IV F3 ap. Malalas 37-8. App., Syr. 57, mentions a foundation of Seleukos I in NW Syria named Heraia after 39 


The introduction of Hellenic cults in Seleukid Syria

waterfalls, and numerous tea gardens and restaurants.48 The ancient sanctuary is best known from Polybios’ description of the imperial festival that Antiochos IV organized there in c. 165 BCE. From the accounts of the procession and the ritual feasting described by Polybios and Diodoros, it is likely that a New Year festival was celebrated here.49 Daphne was sacred to the Seleukid tutelary deities Apollo and Artemis.50 Already in the 3rd century BCE, the valley was identified as the place where the ‘virgin huntress’ Daphne had been touched by Apollo and transformed into a laurel tree, and laurels descendant from her covered the area, as they still do today (Downey 1961: 97-99) (Figure 3).51 This epiphany myth connected Daphne to Delphi, and it was said that Daphne’s sacred Kastalia spring, through an underground river, was fed by Delphi’s sacred Kastalia fountain (Downey 1961: 364, n. 217, for the sources).52 The sanctuary also was an oracle. In the murmuring water flowing from the Kastalia spring, the voice of Apollo was heard.53 The valley was connected to Greece also by a second myth, recounted by Malalas:

Figure 3. Laurel leaves from the sacred grove of Daphne (author’s collection).

at Daphne presumably was imported from Greece, as such cults were unknown in the Near East, with only one possible exception: the oracle of Apollo at Hierapolis in Roman times (Luc., De Dea Syria 35-37; Kaizer 2006: 2647, esp. 36).

‘Seleukos planted cypress trees near the temple of Apollo in the city which was previously named after Herakles, but is now called Daphne; some cypress trees had already been planted there by the priest Herakles, who founded Daphne and called it Herakles after his own name. He established the city outside the sacred grove, by the temple of Athena; but the temple of Apollo was in the middle of the sacred grove.’54

Particularly noteworthy is the appearance of Herakles in his role as a travelling culture hero who creates order by conquering wilderness and establishing cults. In the Archaic period, Herakles had been a pioneer who paved the way for colonization, as well as an intermediary able to broker intercultural transactions, for instance by his ability to assume the identity of Melqart and vice versa (Malkin 2005: 238258; 2011: 119-141). At Daphne, Herakles was credited to be the first to honour the ground where a powerful epiphany of Apollo had occurred, and so again a cult is not established but re-established. Thus, the city founder Seleukos is likened to the culture hero Herakles: by establishing cults, Seleukos too expands the horizons of civilization, the ordered world where Zeus rules.

The insistence on a pre-conquest existence of Daphne suggests that Daphne, too, was a sacred place already before the arrival of the Seleukids.55 The oracular cult Ancient sacred groves can be described as ‘utopian’ places of purity and bliss outside urban civilization where the human meets the divine (Versnel 2011: 120, n. 353); cf. Graf 1993: 23-29. On the place of groves in Greek religions, see generally Mylonopoulos 2008: 5183. 49  Polyb. 30.25-27; Diod. 31 fr. 16.2; Strabo 16.2.6. I am preparing a publication on Daphne and its New Year festival; for now, see Strootman 2007: 68-8, 308-310; 2014: 251-253. 50  RC 44 = OGIS 244 (letter of Antiochos III, 189 BCE); Strabo 16.2.6. The sources for the Apollo sanctuary in later times have been compiled by Downey (1961: 388, n. 44). 51  In the time of Antiochos IV, Protagorides of Kyzikos wrote a treatise ‘On the festivals in Daphne’ (Περὶ τῶν ἐν Δάφνῄ πανηγυρέων), which is referred to in Ath. 4.176A = FHG IV 484. 52  This is a trope of colonial identity encountered also in Sicily, as was pointed out to me by Chris De Lisle; for an overview of (underground) rivers, springs and spring nymphs on Sicilian coinage, see Beliën 2014: 56-61. On the Kastalia spring at Daphne, see Queyrel 1990: 971972. 53  Ammianus 22.12.8; Sozomen, Hist. Eccl. 5.19; cf. Curnow 2004: 132133. 54  Malalas 8: 204, Dindorf (ed.). 55  The name Daphne is attested already by Polybios (30.25), but no earlier, Luwian or Aramaic, name for the grove is known. Libanios suggests pre-Seleukid origins for an Artemis temple near Antioch, which he says had been established by Semiramis, the legendary 48 

Herakles was Perseus’ great-grandson, and had the same father: Zeus. In his laudatory speech on the city of Antioch, Libanios has recorded a tradition that Seleukos descended from Herakles and Perseus via Temenos, founding father of the Argead house of Macedon (Or. 11, 56, and 91); an oracle about Seleukos’ death, recorded by Appian, also associates Seleukos’ origins queen of Syria/Assyria (Downey 1961: 47-48); that tale too has a distinct Hellen(ist)ic, viz., Seleukid flavour; see, e.g., Dalley 2013: 117126. According to the same source, the Persian king Kambyses and his consort Meroe visited and repaired the derelict temple in the 6th century. The sanctuary was thereafter renamed Meroe, and a new festival was created. It was still operational in Libanios’ time in an agglomeration of Antioch.


Rolf Strootman

Figure 4. Silver tetradrachm of Seleukos I from Seleukeiaon-the-Tigris, early third century BCE. Obverse showing a youthful Herakles wearing a lion’s skin; reverse Zeus enthroned, facing left, holding eagle and scepter, with inscription BΑΣIΛΕΩΣ ΣEΛEYKΟΥ (SC 117; CSE 941; Newell, ESM 4). © Classical Numismatic Group.

with Argos.56 Andreas Mehl probably is right in arguing, against scholarly communis opinio, that the tradition is genuine, and that Herakles had been adopted as a heroic model and perhaps ancestor by Seleukos in his early reign as basileus. (Mehl 1986: 9-12). In addition to the circumstantial evidence and arguments adduced by Mehl we may add the significant fact that the continued use after 205 BCE on Seleukid tetradrachms of the beardless Herakles type that had previously appeared on (posthumous) Alexander coinage, stopped being a symbol of Alexander when this image after 305 BCE was connected with Seleukos’ inscription BΑΣIΛΕΩΣ ΣEΛEYKΟΥ on the reverse (Figure 4), while retaining general associations with the Macedonian kingdom as an Aegean power.57 Finally, it may be added that according to Stephanos there were three towns in NW Syria named Herakleia, two of which are dated to the Seleukid period by other sources.58 These early Seleukid ventures into the field of imperial iconography emphasizing links to the Argead dynasty, lost their appeal when in the reign of Antiochos I a modified, ‘transcultural’ Apollo was foregrounded as ancestor and tutelary deity of the dynasty (Erickson 2009).59

Creating a mythic landscape Myths are inextricably connected to landscapes in which they are set (Hawes and Priestly, eds, 2017; Wiggermann 2013: 109-132). Among other things, myths explain and communicate why a certain place is sacred. Myths, as Denis Cosgrove wrote, ‘may both shape and be shaped by landscapes’ (Cosgrove 1995: 305-281, esp. 281). In Greek religion, the concept of epiphany was pivotal for the creation of sacred space, and thus for the political and social organization of the polis (Petridou 2016).60 In Hellenistic Syria, Greek myths were introduced that connected the landscape to the deeds of Zeus. Thus, the river Orontes was identified with the primordial dragon Typhon, who had been defeated by Zeus at Mount Kasios, near Seleukeia in Pieria. The river was renamed Drakōn (but was also called Axios, after the Macedonian river).61 Certain rock formations in the vicinity of Antioch were seen as Giants turned to stone by Zeus’ thunderbolts, thrown down at them from Mount Silpios, the akropolis of Antioch. These myths explained why Mount Kasios and Mount Silpios were sacred, creating what Ömür Harmanşah called ‘eventful topographies’ (Harmanşah 2013: 103). These lieux de mémoire of creation doubled as ‘topographies of power’,62 since the deities and motifs involved were closely connected to dynastic and imperial ideology of the early Seleukids.

App., Syr. 63: ‘Ἄργος ἀλευόμενος τὸ πεπρωμένον εἰς ἔτος ἥξεις: εἰ δ᾽ Ἄργει πελάσαις, τότε κεν παρὰ μοῖραν ὄλοιο’ (‘If you keep away from Argos you will reach your allotted year, but if you approach that place you will die before your time’). 57  Cf., e.g., SC 165 (Susa) and SC 357 (Laodikeia). The combination of this Argead royal icon with a reverse image of an enthroned Zeus/ Ba’al – the latter derived from Achaemenid satrapal coinage – made this coin type specifically suited to express Seleukid claims to hegemony in the Near East; see Olbrycht 2011: 13-27, arguing that Alexander adopted the image of Ba’al/Zeus with the intention to create a transcultural symbol of power for his entire empire. Herakles features prominently as city founder in Megasthenes’ Indika, a work emanating from Seleukos’ court; see Bearzot 2007); for Megasthenes as a Seleukid courtier-writer, consult Primo 2009: 53-108, and Kosmin 2014: 261-271. 58  A Herakleia near Antioch (Strabo 16.2.7; Ptol. 5.14.8) and another near Laodikeia-on-the Sea (IGLS 1252, 108/7 BCE; Strabo 516.2.8; Ptol. 5.14.2-3; Plin, NH 5.79; cf. Cohen 2006: 108-110). A third town, Herakleia-in-Pieria, has been attested only in Stephanos, s.v. ‘Herakleia’ 15. Malalas 204.8 claims that Daphne originally was named Herakleia by Herakles (Cohen 2006: 88-87). 59  Seleukos’ successors, Antiochos I, Antiochos II and Seleukos II, struck similar tetradrachms, but they retained Seleukos’ inscription, perhaps to keep alive the notion of Seleukos’ Argive ancestry and claim to the Macedonian basileia. 56 

When Perseus arrived at Mount Silpios, he met there the descendants of settlers from his own home city, Argos. Their community was called Iopolis. Perseus founded an altar for Zeus the Thrower of Thunderbolts (Keraunios) on the mountain. This probably indicates the presence of a sanctuary storm god deity at the top of this steep and imposing rock before the arrival of the Greeks. For the pivotal role of epiphany in Greek religions, see Versnel 2011: 88-102. 61  Strabo 16.2.7. 62  For the concept of ‘topography of power’ and its application to ancient history and archaeology, see Canepa 2014: 53-92. 60 


The introduction of Hellenic cults in Seleukid Syria

The reference to Io is noteworthy. In pre-Hellenistic Greece, this originally Argive myth was connected to Egypt, and after the Macedonian conquest of Egypt, Io is best known as a prominent figure in early Ptolemaic imperial myth-making.63 This presumably developed at the court of Ptolemy II Philadelphos, and its intended audience was not the population of Egypt, but people from the Aegean, who were acquainted with these tales. Io and Zeus were the ancestors of Aigyptos, the eponymous first king of Egypt who fled to Argos after losing his throne to his treacherous twin brother, Danaos. By claiming descent from Aigyptos via Temenos, first King of the Macedonians, Philadelphos could present his father, Ptolemy I Soter, as Aigyptos’ legitimate heir returning to Egypt to reclaim his ancestral realm.64 The Syrian foundation myths, by contrast, entail no Egyptian connections at all. Instead they seem to aim at linking Europe to Asia by developing Io’s connections to Syria. For just as Io came to Egypt in the form of a cow, so too did she arrive in Syria (to where she later returned in human shape). Her descendent Agenor, the son of Poseidon and Libya, later settled in the Levant where he fathered Syros and Phoenix, the eponymous kings of Syria and Phoenicia.65 Moreover, as father or grandfather of the maiden Europa, Agenor linked Asia to Europe.66 Being specifically connected with Seleukeia and the cult on Mount Kasios (see above), Agenor, and the story of Zeus’ abduction of his child Europa to Crete, also provided a mythical rationalization for the Hellenistic-period association of the cult of Hadad-Ba’al-Zeus Kasios with the newly introduced cult of Zeus Kretagenēs in Syria.67 This

cult may have been a focus for identity formation, perhaps for settlers from Crete or, viz., a body of socalled ‘Cretan’ soldiers. To ask whether the Seleukids took over the Io myth from the Ptolemies or vice versa would be beside the point. The two major powers of the Hellenistic period in their practice of empire and imperial representation were entangled systems: one cannot understand the one without taking into account the other. From c. 275 to 145 BCE they co-existed in a permanent state of rivalry (Grainger 2010), a big ‘global’ conflict that the entire Eastern Mediterranean state system, and eventually also the Roman west (Eckstein 2007), was drawn into. From this perspective, the prominence of the Io myth, and of Argive mythology more generally, can be understood as the result of the antagonistic exchanges between Ptolemaic and Seleukid agents in the Mediterranean theatre of conflict, rather than a unidirectional influence of one ‘state’ on the other. In the context of these dynamics, both dynasties obviously must have simultaneously used Argive mythology to claim sovereign rights upon a variety of lands, including Egypt and Syria, remodelling these myths to suit their own respective aims and in reaction to the other’s modifications. While the specific Ptolemaic use of these myths emphasized the centrality of Egypt, the rival versions preferred by the Seleukid court aimed at connecting the Aegean region and the Near East in a single imperial idea. Egypt, seen as part of Asia by the Seleukid court, moves to the background in these versions.68 Making sense of foundation myths

From the 3rd century BCE, Io was equated to Isis and credited with the establishment of the cult of Apis (Diod. 1.24.8; Apollod. 2.1.4; Hyg. Fab. 145.1; Luc., Dial. Deor. 3, cf. Hdt. 2.41); cf. Rutherford 2011: 459-470. 64  For a full discussion of Io’s possible Egyptian connections, see Kampakoglou 2016: 111-139. The Ptolemaic version of the Io myth has been understood as part of a broader intellectual effort of the Ptolemaic court aimed at presenting the Eastern Mediterranean as a coherent world of interconnected coastal regions under Ptolemaic tutelage; see e.g. Stephens 2003: 171-237; Acosta-Hughes and Stephens 2015: 148-203. 65  Apollod. 2.1; cf. Hdt. 2.145.1. 66  The Hellenistic-period version of the myth has been best preserved in Apollod. 3.1.1; cf. Moschos 277; Diod. 5.78.1; Luc., Dial. Marin. 15, and De Dea Syria 4; Ov. Met. 2.836, and Ovid, Fasti 5.603; Hyg. Fab. 178. As Europa’s father, sometimes Agenor’s son Phoenix is given. 67  Frazer, in a footnote to this passage in his 1923 Apollodoros translation, already pointed out that there a link likely existed between the Cretan birth myth of Zeus and the cult of Zeus Kasios in Seleukid Syria, also drawing attention to the popular equation of the Cretan Zeus and the weather god Marnas, who was worshiped at Gaza in Roman times (Steph. Byz., s.v. Γάζα). An altar of Zeus Kretagenēs allegedly was discovered at the founding of Antioch; see Mastrocinque 2002: 355-372; against the conventional view that this altar was erected to accommodate Cretan mercenaries, Mastrocinque argues that Seleukos came from the region of Bottiaia and that the Bottiaians claimed Cretan descent. The appearance of Zeus in the form of a bull opens up a world of fascinating associations, that for the sake of brevity, relatively speaking, cannot be discussed at length here; for now consider that the Ugaritic storm god Hadad, whose sanctuary was on Mount Kasios in the Late Bronze Age, was commonly depicted on reliefs while standing on a bull with a lightning bolt in his right hand; Hadad also is often represented with bull’s horns, and the 63 

The rediscovery trope in the foundation myths of Seleukeia, Antioch and Daphne can of course be understood as charter myths legitimizing conquest and colonization: existing indigenous sacred places appropriated by an oppressive power that imprints its own myths and deities on the landscape. This interpretation has some validity but is too simplistic. The pre-existing sanctuaries after all continued to be operational, and the identity of earlier deities is not suppressed. Quite the contrary, the cults of Zeus Keraunios at Seleukeia and Antioch suggest a translation of indigenous storm gods into Greek ones rather than their replacement by Greek deities. In the recent past, postcolonial theorists therefore would have turned the argument around, invoking Homi Bhabha (1994: 6) to later Syrian deities Anat and Ba’al were sometimes worshipped in the shape of bovines; cf. Lipinsky 2000: 632. 68  The Seleukid court upheld the conventional Greek view that Egypt is part of Asia, while the Ptolemies from their maritime perspective maintained that Asia was essentially an interior continent to which Syria and other countries by the sea did not belong, for these lands, of course, were rightfully theirs (cf. e.g. Polyb. 5.67; 1 Macc. 11.13; and Strabo 11.9.2); on this discourse and ideology, see Primo 2009: 99-102; Strootman 2010a: 139-158; 2019).


Rolf Strootman point out that the amalgamation of a Syrian and a Greek deity is a form of bicultural ‘hybridity’ that indicates subaltern agency challenging fixed identifications and imposed hierarchy through re-appropriation.69 But this binary model of colonial relations is simplistic too and has become all but obsolete in recent empire studies.70

The transcultural translation of deities was a widespread practice in the Near East practice since the 3rd millennium BCE, a practice that Greeks later also participated in (the so-called interpretatio Graeca). In a series of publications on the emergence of monotheism, Jan Assmann (e.g. 2003: 28-37) in particular has drawn attention to this practice of Göttergleichungen, and the varying degrees of what he called the transcultural Übersetzbarkeit of local deities (i.e. the measure of translatability of a god from one cultural area or community to another).74 As Assmann (1997: 54) described the phenomenon:

In previous publications, I have often taken issue with the prevailing conceptualization of the Hellenistic empires as quasi-modern nation states. Instead, I think it would be more fruitful to consider the competing Seleukid and Ptolemaic empires as flexible, intersecting networks of personal relations, as is now common in imperial studies beyond the ancient word.71 New research of early modern and modern empires has moved beyond the traditional juxtaposition of (foreign) colonial powers and (indigenous) ‘subalterns’ that had been the essence of postcolonial approaches in the 1980s and 1990s. Instead of ‘native agency’, the entanglements of various, ever-shifting interest groups are now foregrounded. There still is exploitation and there still are occasional outbursts of extreme violence directed against local populations. But the fault lines now run across communities and social groups, because shifting imperial geopolitics generate new socio-political hierarchies, communal identities and modes of behaviour that affect existing social organizations. With this in mind, the transformation of sacred space in Seleukid Syria can also be perceived as the intentional creation of middle grounds, where a process of mutual accommodation may occur (White 1991).72 Within the ‘neutral’ confines of the sanctuary, under the auspices of the deity, cultural differences are mitigated by a process of cultural translation of religious ideas and practices as Zeus starts to resemble Ba’al and Ba’al becomes like Zeus in various local guises. It is insignificant that the gods depicted on Seleukid coinage are never actually named on these coins, and thus were open, probably intentionally, to different local/cultural interpretations.73

‘The great achievement of polytheism is the articulation of a common semantic universe. […] The meaning of a deity is his or her specific character as it unfolded in myths, hymns, rites, and so on. This character makes a deity comparable to other deities with similar traits. The similarity of gods makes their names mutually translatable. […] The practice of translating the names of the gods created a concept of similarity and produced the idea or conviction that the gods are international.’ The transcultural identification of local deities was enhanced by the fact that these deities of course were connected through intercultural exchanges in the distant and recent past.75 Although cults in the ancient Mediterranean were first of all localized affairs (Kaizer 2008), local deities were also interconnected in various ways. The great number of thundering storm gods worshipped locally were at once different, individual deities and the same. In the Hellenistic period, the connectedness of local deities increased due to intensified migration and imperial policies. The appearance of both Greek and non-Greek religious idioms on Seleukid coinage in 2nd-century Syria mirrors this process,76 testifying to the ‘multi-cultural’ On the phenomenon of religious translation, see also BachmannMedick 2014: 119-36, exploring the question of what is translatable and untranslatable between cultures by focusing on the study of culture itself; cf. López-Ruiz (ed.) 2014). I am grateful to Miquel John Versluys for drawing my attention to the concept of translation and the important Bachmann-Medick volume. 75  For the current acceptance of shared origins of Aegean and Near Eastern deities and myths, Burkert 1984 and West 1997 are foundational; also see Bremmer 2008. Foregrounding questions concerned with how and why cultural exchange takes place (rather than charting origins per se), the current emphasis on dialectic exchanges between ever-changing and permeable local cultures now supersedes postcolonial thinking in which the divide between Classical Hellas and the ‘Orient’ was exacerbated by a preference for presenting so-called ‘Near Eastern’ influences on in exceedingly broad terms Greece as a unidirectional flow from a sending to a receiving civilization. For the cultural relatedness of local storm gods (Zeus, Ba’al) in Syria, see Bing 1991: 161-165; cf. López-Ruiz 2014: 1-10, who rightly points out (p. 8) that ‘“Greece” and the “Near East” are not sufficiently useful categories for literary/mythological comparison [since] neither of these labels captures the infinitely subdivisible realities that lie behind them’, emphasizing in particular the wide variety of (cosmogonic) myths circulating even in Greece itself. 76  Including the Aramaic deities El, Ba’al Shamin, Ba’al Hadad, and Atargatis, as well as Luwian Sandan, who are often represented with 74 

For discussion, see Ashley and Plesch 2002: 1-15, esp. 3-4. Former generations of Hellenistic scholars used the term ‘syncretism’ to describe this form of religious change as ‘typically’ Hellenistic, e.g. Grant 1953). Like hybridity, syncretism is a troubled concept because it assumes the amalgamation of culturally ‘pure’ deities; but all culture can be understood as ‘a constant reworking, casting off, and reviving of elements into ever-changing complexes’: Just and Monaghan 2000: 46. 70  For the problems of cultural hybridity as a hermeneutical tool, see Versluys 2010: 7-36, esp. 20; Ette and Wirth 2014: 7-12. Also see Ma 2008: 371-386, on the paradoxical co-existence in Hellenistic scholarship of the later 20th century of the paradigm of Hellenism as a fusion of cultures and the post-colonial paradigm of radically separate cultures. On the view of Hellenism as mutatis mutandis ‘Western’ colonialism in modern scholarship, see Mairs 2006: 19-30; Strootman 2012. 71  See the references in n. 4, above. 72  Also see Demetriou 2012, emphasizing the pivotal role of sanctuaries for intercultural interactions in Antiquity, and Strootman 2013, stressing the role of sanctuaries as spaces of mediation and negotiation for different cultural and political groups. 73  See Erickson 2011: 51-66, making this argument for the early Seleukid seated Apollo type, introduced by Antiochos I. 69 


The introduction of Hellenic cults in Seleukid Syria

repertoire that populations had at their disposal for the articulation of communal identity.

In Malalas, Libanios and others, stories introduced under Seleukos I or Antiochos I seem to have merged with the dynastic propaganda of Antiochos IV, about a century later. The ‘double reign’ of Seleukos I and Antiochos I in the first part of the 3rd century was characterized by a strategic focus on both the Mediterranean, viz. the Aegean, and on the Upper Satrapies (Iran and Central Asia). Reviving the expansionist policy of Antiochos III, the court of Antiochos IV, too, aimed at building up strong networks towards the east and the west (Strootman 2016: 169-92, esp. 184-6; Strootman 2019), while reconsolidating the Syro-Mesopotamian imperial core.81

References to the Seleukid dynasty in foundation myths of course are not in themselves evidence that they actually go back to the Seleukid period; under the Roman Empire it became increasingly prestigious for cities in Asia Minor and the Near East to claim Seleukos or Alexander as deified hērōs ktistēs (Noreña 2016: 86-100).77 But while the promotion of Alexander (a rather unimportant figure in the 3rd century BCE) is a form of invented tradition (pace Ogden 2011: 150154), the presentation of Seleukos as founder is founded on historical facts. Historians moreover have begun to reevaluate Hobsbawm and Ranger’s (often crudely applied) notion of ‘invention of tradition’.78 Traditions do exist and they have their own agency, constraining or even directing human behaviour; although they are constantly evolving, traditional modes of representation and behaviour can be actively revised, prioritized or disregarded only to a limited extend (Hekster et al. 2014: 7-27).79 This is why the pagan stories recorded by Malalas so often seem to be genuine folktales rather than the constituents of some textual anti-pagan ‘discourse’ (e.g. Garstad 2005: 83-136).

Summary and conclusion Many stories have been recorded about the foundation of Antioch and Seleukeia. I have only briefly touched upon some of them. Such narrations, as Benedict Anderson has emphasized, are the narrations through which individuals come to consider themselves as belonging to ‘a solid community moving steadily down history’ (Anderson 1983). Moreover, the present was inscribed into an authoritative, mythical past, as three types of myths consistently recur time and again: Zeus’ initial creation of Order where once was Chaos; culture heroes fathered by Zeus (Perseus, Herakles) who subsequently established altars for Zeus on the sites where Zeus had manifested his divine power, providing the principal condition for human habitation; and lastly the establishment of communities by another descendant of Zeus, Seleukos, as a final act of creation.82 Like Perseus and Herakles, Seleukos was both a ktistēs and a culture hero.

The Seleukid background to the foundation myths told about Antioch and Seleukeia is corroborated by the apparent correlation between them. They function as building blocks in a larger design of creating cultural memory and identity that concerns the Seleukis region as a whole. Such a design can only have been authored on a level above that of the individual cities. The tale of the eagle snatching away a sacrifice and placing it on another (pre-existing) altar moreover was derived from a widely used Hellenistic narrative repertoire, as it can also be found in the α recension of the Greek Alexander Romance (1.33), where it is associated with the foundation of Alexandria.80

Cities foundations were ritualized – in narrative representations and presumably also as actual occurrences – as acts of creation. These original acts of foundations were celebrated as important civic festivals which kept the foundation mythology alive. By presenting imperial city foundations as final acts in a cosmogonic process of creation, the establishment of the Seleukid Empire by Seleukos I was presented as a new beginning of time, an eschatological image also emanating from the introduction of the Seleukid

features similar to those used to depict Greek gods (Zeus, Artemis, Athena, Poseidon): Wright 2009-2010: 201-203. 77  For the lasting charisma of the Seleukid house among their descendants in the Late Hellenistic/Roman Near East, see Strootman 2010a; 2016: 209-230. For writers of the Second Sophistic, the Glory that was Greece naturally included the period that modern scholarship has marginalized as post-Classical; see Ameling 1994: 117-160, showing how the majority of the historical digressions in Pausanias’ Description of Greece is concerned with ‘Hellenistic’ history. This reflects not only Pausanias’ own preferences but also follows from a prevalence of post-Classical (but pre-Roman) statues and other lieux de mémoire in the Greek landscape of the 2nd century CE, that were seen and described by Pausanias: Akujärvi 2005: 200-205. Also in Plutarch’s Greek Lives, our Classical and Hellenistic periods are a single, continuous period of pre-Roman Greek history. 78  For the état de la question, Busch and Versluys 2015: 7-15. Lib., Or. 11.72-6, records a tradition according to which Alexander had planned the foundation of Antioch and already established a cult of Zeus Battaios to demarcate the site; this tradition however is of very late Hellenistic or post-Hellenistic date (for references see Cohen 2006: 80). 79  For a book-length analysis of the power of tradition, see Hekster 2015. 80  This narrative belongs to the Romance’s original core of stories about Alexandria, dating to the 3rd century BCE, and the text can be

linked to ‘official’ Ptolemaic ideology, for instance because it credits Alexander with the establishment of the ‘state cult’ of Sarapis; in that case, too, a primordial origin of the cult is suggested by the tale of Alexander’s rediscovery an ancient altar and temple: ‘when he made inquiries of the natives there as to who the god was, they said that they did not know, but the tradition of their forefathers claimed it was the shrine of Zeus’ (transl. Haight). The same story is also verbatim in the Armenian (1.33) and Syriac (1.89 + 32) versions. For the date, see Fraser 1972: 267; Stoneman 1994: 117-129. 81  Mittag, Antiochos IV. 82  Interestingly, the iconography of various local Zeus’s and Ba’als had begun to merge already on satrapal coinage in late Achaemenid Asia Minor; cf. Kaptan 2013: 25-49, rightly speaking of a ‘west Achaemenid koinē’ (in which the Argead kings, I would suggest, participated). For the coinage, see, e.g., Moysey 1986: 7-62, with plates 61-65.


Rolf Strootman Era by Antiochos I and the early Seleukid policy of denying both the Achaemenids and Alexander a role as predecessors and models (Strootman 2008; 2013).83

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Populations in the polis dynastic foundations never developed an exclusive relationship with a specific mother city. The focus for communal identity instead was threefold. First, there was the dynasty that had founded the city and in later representations of the act of foundation assumed, as it were, the role of mētropolis. Second, the principal civic cults on the akropoleis of the cities – Thundering Zeus at Seleukeia, and Zeus Keraunios at Antioch – can be safely identified as based upon pre-existing local cults adjusted to the new ‘multi-cultural’ context of colonization by means of religious translation; in addition to these central cults, miscellaneous memory communities linked to the varied origins of the settlers may have existed within these cities.84 Third, myths of shared ancestry came into being in which typical transcultural ‘mediators’ like Perseus and Herakles played leading roles; these tales connected the cities to Greece but most of all to the globalizing Hellenistic koinē that the Seleukids claimed to lead. On an ideological level, the evidence discussed in this contribution shows that the introduction of Hellenic cults, viz., translation of indigenous deities into Hellenic ones, contributed to the shaping of an imperial landscape, consciously orchestrated by the Seleukids (Seleukos I and Antiochos I, later also Antiochos III and Antiochos IV) to connect Seleukid Syria to Greece and claim hegemony over the Aegean in competition with the Ptolemies. The notion of rediscovery and the ideology of return created a sense of belonging for migrants coming from the Aegean but most of all facilitated the creation of a coherent Hellenic identity for the ethnically mixed communities of Antioch and Seleukeia, including ‘Syrians’. Thus, the process of transcultural translation of deities and cults enabled the co-existence of varied migrant groups and local populations. Bibliography Acosta-Hughes, B. and Stephens, S.A. 2012. Callimachus in Context: From Plato to the Augustan Poets (2nd edn 2015). Cambridge. Akujärvi, J. 2005. Researcher, Traveller, Narrator: Studies in Pausanias’ Periegesis. Studia Graeca et Latina Lundensia 12. Stockholm. Ameling, W. 1994. Pausanias und die hellenistische Geschichte, in P. Bingen (ed.) Pausanias Historien: 117-60. Geneva. On the Hellenistic image of empire as a new beginning of time, see Strootman 2010a; 2014: 325-341. 84  For Hellenistic Seleukeia, a deme (Olympios) and a tribe (Laodikis) have been attested (Welles, RC 45 = IGLS 1183); see Cohen 2006: 130. 83 


The introduction of Hellenic cults in Seleukid Syria

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Les relations entre les Thraces et les cités grecques de la mer Noire : conflits, alliances, transferts institutionnels *

Adrian Robu** Les modernes ont pour la plupart interprété les premiers rapports entre les Thraces et les Grecs de la mer Noire en termes de conflits ou d’alliances, leurs reconstructions s’appuyant sur des sources textuelles ou beaucoup plus rarement sur des sources archéologiques. On a ainsi conclu que la fondation des colonies grecques s’est réalisée après des guerres contre les indigènes (comme à Byzance) (Isaac 2004: 916; Gyuzelev 2008: 171) ou suite à des accords entre les Grecs et les Thraces (voir le cas de Mésambria) (Ognenova-Marinova 1985: 238-244; Porozhanov 2000: 345-350; Gyuzelev 2008: 85). À cet égard, D.M. Pippidi estimait que les premiers rapports entre les Grecs et les indigènes auraient été de trois types. Les récits évoquent l’accueil généreux que les indigènes réservaient aux nouveaux venus ou, au contraire, ils témoignent des relations conflictuelles entre les Grecs et les populations locales. Outre ces deux possibilités, Pippidi en ajoutait une troisième : la nouvelle fondation aurait eu lieu grâce à « des accords plus ou moins formels  » en vertu desquels les Grecs recevaient de la part des indigènes les terres nécessaires à l’établissement de leur cité. Il notait ainsi « que pour fonder des colonies les Grecs avaient à leur disposition pas moins de trois manières différentes, et il est naturel de penser que l’évolution des rapports avec leurs voisins barbares ait été de près ou de loin influencée par la nature des premières relations établies entre les deux communautés » (Pippidi 1976: 445-446).1

offre une documentation littéraire et épigraphique particulièrement riche, pour proposer quelques pistes d’interprétation des relations entre les Thraces et les Grecs du Pont Gauche dans l’Antiquité. Les rapports entre les Thraces et les Grecs du PontEuxin : entre conflits et alliances Pour expliquer la nature des relations entre les Thraces et les Grecs du Pont, les modernes se sont souvent appuyés sur un passage célèbre de Polybe, qui évoque les conflits entre les Byzantins et les Thraces. Ce passage, reproduit ci-dessous, précède, chez l’historien achéen, le récit de la guerre de 220 opposant les Byzantins aux Rhodiens et aux Bithyniens de Prusias Ier, une guerre provoquée par la décision des Byzantins de taxer les navires passant par le Bosphore.2 Τῆς γὰρ Θρᾴκης κύκλῳ περιεχούσης αὐτῶν τὴν χώραν οὕτως ὥστ ἐκ θαλάττης εἰς θάλατταν καθήκειν ἀίδιον ἔχουσι πόλεμον καὶ δυσχερῆ πρὸς τούτους. 2 Οὔτε γὰρ παρασκευασάμενοι καὶ κρατήσαντες αὐτῶν εἰσάπαξ ἀποτρίψασθαι τὸν πόλεμον οἷοί τ εἰσὶ διὰ τὸ πλῆθος καὶ τῶν ὄχλων καὶ τῶν δυναστῶν· 3 ἐὰν [τε] γὰρ ἑνὸς περιγένωνται, τρεῖς ἐπιβαίνουσιν ἐπὶ τὴν τούτων χώραν ἄλλοι βαρύτεροι δυνάσται. 4 Καὶ μὴν οὐδ᾽ εἴξαντες καὶ συγκαταβάντες εἰς φόρους καὶ συνθήκας οὐδὲν ποιοῦσι πλέον· ἂν γὰρ ἑνὶ πρόωνταί τι, πενταπλασίους δι αὐτὸ τοῦτο πολεμίους εὑρίσκουσι. 5 Διόπερ ἀιδίῳ συνέχονται καὶ δυσχερεῖ πολέμῳ· τί γὰρ ἐπισφαλέστερον ἀστυγείτονος καὶ βαρβάρου πολέμου ; τί δεινότερον ; 6 οὐ μὴν ἀλλὰ τούτοις τὸ παράπαν κακοῖς παλαίοντες κατὰ γῆν, χωρὶς τῶν ἄλλων τῶν παρεπομένων τῷ πολέμῳ κακῶν, ὑπομένουσί τινα καὶ τιμωρίαν Ταντάλειον κατὰ τὸν ποιητήν. 7 Ἔχοντες γὰρ χώραν γενναιοτάτην, ὅταν διαπονήσωσι ταύτην καὶ γένηται τὸ τῶν καρπῶν πλῆθος τῷ κάλλει διαφέρον, κἄπειτα παραγενηθέντες οἱ βάρβαροι τοὺς μὲν καταφθείρωσι, τοὺς δὲ συναθροίσαντες ἀποφέρωσι, 8 τότε δὴ, χωρὶς τῶν ἔργων καὶ τῆς δαπάνης, καὶ τὴν καταφθορὰν θεώμενοι διὰ τὸ κάλλος τῶν καρπῶν σχετλιάζουσι καὶ βαρέως φέρουσι τὸ συμβαῖνον. 9 Ἀλλ› ὅμως τὸν μὲν ἀπὸ τῶν Θρᾳκῶν πόλεμον κατὰ τὴν συνήθειαν ἀναφέροντες ἔμενον ἐπὶ τῶν ἐξ ἀρχῆς

Il convient néanmoins de rappeler que les récits de fondation remontent souvent à l’époque hellénistique et impériale et prennent en compte une longue expérience des contacts avec «  l’Autre  ». On peut dès lors inverser la perspective et se demander si cette «  histoire commune  » n’est pas susceptible d’avoir influencé la reconstruction historique des rapports entre Grecs et non-Grecs. En privilégiant l’examen des institutions, mon étude part de l’exemple de Byzance, une cité qui Cet article est issu d’un projet soutenu par l’Autorité nationale roumaine pour la recherche scientifique, CNCS-UEFISCDI, no du projet PN-II-ID-PCE-2012-3-0045. Toutes les dates s’entendent av. J.-C., sauf précision contraire. Je remercie Alexandru Avram, Thibaut Castelli et Dan Dana, qui ont relu une première version de cet article et m’ont fait part de leurs remarques.  ** Université Paris VIII, France. 1  = Parerga 1984: 254-255).  *

Pour les causes de cette guerre, voir: Habicht 1957: col. 1088-1091; Jefremow 2005: 51-98. 2 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 92–99

Les relations entre les Thraces et les cités grecques de la mer Noire

δικαίων πρὸς τοὺς Ἕλληνας, 10 προσεπιγενομένων δὲ Γαλατῶν αὐτοῖς τῶν περὶ Κομοντόριον εἰς πᾶν ἦλθον περιστάσεως.

assurer la rentrée de la récolte sans dommages. Lors d’une seconde campagne menée par les Thraces dans la région, Agathoclès fut envoyé comme ambassadeur auprès de Zoltès et en cette qualité, il s’occupa du rachat de la récolte du territoire.5

« Les Thraces encerclant le territoire des Byzantins d’une mer à l’autre, ils ont avec eux une guerre continuelle et pénible ; 2 car, même bien préparés et victorieux sur eux, ils n’arrivent jamais à se débarrasser de la guerre à cause du nombre des barbares et de leurs chefs. 3 Byzance a-t-elle triomphé d’un seul, trois autres princes plus importants tombent sur le pays ; 4 et même si elle cède et en vient à accepter des traités et des tributs, cela ne va pas mieux – si elle cède à un adversaire, elle trouve par le fait même cinq fois plus d’ennemis. 5 C’est pourquoi elle supporte une guerre continuelle et pénible. Quoi de plus dangereux, en effet, qu’une guerre contre un voisin et un barbare ? Quoi de plus terrible ? 6 Cependant par cette lutte continuelle contre les dangers qui leur viennent du côté de la terre, sans parler des autres malheurs qui résultent de la guerre, les gens de Byzance supportent une sorte de supplice de Tantale, comme dit le poète. 7 Ils possèdent un pays très fertile et quand, après s’être donné beaucoup de mal, ils en ont tiré une récolte d’une quantité remarquable, les barbares survenant en détruisent une partie, ramassent le reste et l’emportent. 8 Mais alors, indépendamment de leurs fatigues et de la dépense, en contemplant cette ruine et en pensant à la qualité de leur récolte, ils gémissent et se résignent péniblement à leur malheur. 9 Cependant, tout en supportant continuellement la guerre que leur imposaient les Thraces, ils demeurèrent fidèles à leurs anciens principes avec les Grecs ; 10 mais l’arrivée de Comontorius à la tête des Gaulois les mit dans la plus triste situation.3 »

Ce décret confirme que la menace des tribus thraces était bien réelle à l’époque hellénistique et pour la repousser, les cités du Pont n’hésitèrent pas à se mettre sous la protection d’un chef barbare. L’inscription atteste que les Istriens demandèrent l’aide d’un certain Rhémaxos et de son fils, Phrad[atès] contre Zoltès.6 On sait également que Byzance, Chalcédoine et Astacos, colonies mégariennes, firent preuve, à l’époque classique et hellénistique, de solidarité devant la menace des Thraces et des Bithyniens (Robu 2014: 208-213). Plus tard, les cités du Pont Gauche reçurent l’aide de Rome, et grâce à un décret d’Istros récemment publié, on apprend que cet appui à été accordé à l’époque de Tibère en raison de la menace et de la proximité des barbares (Bărbulescu et Buzoianu 2014: 416; Avram 2015: no 509).7 Néanmoins, la question qui se pose est de savoir si les cités grecques étaient confrontées véritablement à des guerres incessantes contre les Thraces, comme il ressort du passage de Polybe. On peut même se demander s’il est de bonne méthode d’interpréter les rapports entre les Thraces et les Grecs du Pont uniquement en termes d’opposition (Avram 1996: 241-251; Archibald 2002: 49-72; Damyanov 2003: 253-264). Car il y a sans doute une dimension rhétorique et un aspect émotionnel qui ne sont pas négligeables dans les documents  : pour obtenir de l’aide, les cités veulent montrer que c’est leur sécurité qui est en jeu. Le texte de Polybe à propos de Byzance et le décret d’Istros pour Agathoclès comportent bien des éléments émotionnels, ils se proposent d’obtenir la gratitude et l’appui d’un autre partenaire (communauté grecque, souverain grec ou chef barbare), et de soulever l’indignation contre leurs adversaires (cf.. Chaniotis 2015: 87-103). En réalité, si les cités du Pont Gauche subirent vers le milieu du Ier siècle les attaques dévastatrices des Gètes de Byrébistas (pourtant sans les mêmes résultats partout),8 rien ne prouve qu’elles fussent confrontées à un danger du même ordre aux IIIe-IIe siècles.

De manière générale, les savants ont accepté le témoignage de Polybe  sur les attaques sans cesse menées par les Thraces contre Byzance et sa chôra (Merle 1916: 10; Loukopoulou 1989: 200; Isaac 2004: 230-231; Loukopoulou et Łajtar: 2004: 916; Gyuzelev 2008: 171). Mieux, d’aucuns ont noté que cette situation trouve un parallèle dans certains décrets hellénistiques émanant des cités pontiques, où l’on trouve une préoccupation constante pour la sauvegarde des récoltes.4 À titre d’exemple, les Istriens honorent vers 200 Agathoclès, fils d’Antiphilos, notamment en raison des ses actions en faveur de la cité lors des conflits entre les Istriens et les Thraces d’un certain Zoltès. Le décret atteste que les Thraces attaquèrent la cité au moment de la moisson, au moins à deux reprises. Dans un premier temps, Agathoclès fut élu toxarque et à la tête de soldats mercenaires, il réussit à sauvegarder le territoire et à 3  4 

IScM I 15. Le décret pour Agathoclès est repris dans Nouveau choix d’inscriptions grecques 2005: 49-55, no 6. 6  Pour la restitution Φραδ[ατης], à la place de Φραδ[μονα], que l’on trouve dans IScM I 15, l. 54, voir Avram 2015: 64, n. 102 (avec la bibliographie). 7  Cf. Ovide, Pontiques, 4, 7. 8  Dion Chrysostome, Discours, 36, 4, témoigne du sac des cités grecques du Pont Gauche, d’Olbia jusqu’à Apollonia, par les Gètes. La destruction d’Olbia et d’Istros est confirmée par les sources archéologiques ; d’autres cités en revanche ont réussi à se défendre tant bien que mal (Mésambria) ou elles se sont soumises de leur plein gré au roi gète (Dionysopolis). Voir à cet égard Pippidi 1981: 255-262 = Parerga 1984: 177-188); Avram 2005: 177-179; Panait Bîrzescu et Bîrzescu 2014: 39-42. 5 

Polybe, 4, 45 (trad. de J. de Foucault, CUF).  IScM I 15: 87; Ehrhardt 1988: 289-304; Avram 2005a: 168; 2011: 61-75. 


Adrian Robu Dernièrement, A. Dumitru estime qu’il ne faut pas trop dramatiser la situation de Byzance, qui restait une cité assez puissante au IIIe siècle (2013: 92). On peut, à mon sens, franchir un pas supplémentaire et se demander si la situation était si catastrophique pour la cité du Bosphore thrace et s’il ne faudrait pas plutôt voir dans le texte de Polybe l’intention des Byzantins de fournir un argument supplémentaire en faveur de leur décision de taxer les navires traversant le Bosphore, ce qui fut l’une de causes principales de la guerre contre Rhodes et les Bithyniens. Pour Polybe (4, 46), cette mesure s’expliquait par l’énorme tribut annuel que les Byzantins devaient payer aux Galates et par le manque d’assistance de la part des autres Grecs lorsque les Byzantins leur avaient demandé de l’aide. Il ajoute, dans le passage cité ci-dessus (4, 45, 9-10), qu’en dépit des guerres contre les Thraces, les Byzantins se sont comportés auparavant avec justice envers les Grecs et cela depuis les temps les plus reculés, l’arrivés des Galates les ayant obligés à changer d’attitude.

la cité fit preuve à plusieurs reprises d’une puissance économique et militaire non négligeable, et cela après 279 et le passage d’une partie des Galates en Asie Mineure. On rappelle que les Byzantins tirent leurs ressources du trafic commercial à travers le Bosphore certes, mais aussi des réseaux qu’ils avaient développés dans la Propontide et le Pont-Euxin. À cela s’ajoutaient des revenus fournis par la pêche et surtout par un territoire très étendu à la fois en Thrace et en Asie Mineure. Outre le territoire européen, les Byzantins possédaient des terres en Mysie, dans la région de Yalova, et ils partageaient la possession du lac de Dascylion avec Cyzique (Robu 2014: 189-191). Ils contrôlaient d’ailleurs d’autres établissements en Asie, notamment Hiéron, un site fort important pour le trafic commercial par le Bosphore. Polybe atteste aussi que les Byzantins achetèrent Hiéron « peu avant » la guerre de 220.11 On sait par ailleurs que Byzance prit avec Chalcédoine des mesures financières destinées à augmenter leurs revenus : les deux cités frappent entre 260 et 220 des monnaies d’argent et de bronze communes, dont le but est d’établir un monopole monétaire dans la région du Bosphore thrace. Arrivés dans les deux cités, les étrangers devaient, pour disposer de liquidités valides, soit échanger leurs monnaies en monnaies civiques, soit payer l’impression d’une contremarque sur leur numéraire (Le Rider et Olcay 1984: 101-102; Marinescu 2000: 333-337).

Ce témoignage laisse penser que les Byzantins n’avaient pas introduit de taxes pour les navires transitant par leurs ports avant l’arrivée des Galates (Dumitru 2013: 83, n. 9). Or, il est certain que ce n’était pas la première fois que les Byzantins prenaient de telles mesures. En effet, on sait que les deux cités-sœurs du Bosphore thrace, Byzance et Chalcédoine, saisirent à plusieurs reprises à l’époque classique des cargaisons de navires venant ou allant vers le Pont-Euxin, et  qu’elles avaient introduit des taxes supplémentaires pour les commerçants arrivés dans leurs ports.9 De même, force est de constater que le contrôle du trafic à travers le Bosphore fut l’une des préoccupations des Athéniens à l’époque de la guerre du Péloponnèse. Les troupes d’Alcibiade occupèrent vers 410/9 Chrysopolis, un bourg dans le territoire de Chalcédoine, et décidèrent de taxer les bateaux de commerce passant par le détroit.10 Bref, autour de 220, les Byzantins renouèrent avec une politique qu’ils avaient menée eux-mêmes pour de brèves périodes auparavant ; et ils ne furent pas les seuls à recourir à de telles mesures, les Athéniens et les Chalcédoniens avaient également taxé les navires qui franchissaient le Bosphore.

Mieux, les Byzantins intervinrent avec succès dans les affaires des cités du Pont Gauche et ils arrivèrent, peu avant le milieu du IIIe siècle av. J.-C., à empêcher les Callatiens d’exercer un monopole sur l’emporion de Tomis. Les Byzantins menèrent la guerre contre les Callatiens et leurs alliées d’Istros, et selon Memnon, les Callatiens « furent très éprouvés par l’action ennemie ; plus tard, ils composèrent parce qu’ils étaient bien près de ne plus pouvoir se relever de cette catastrophe ».12 Étant donné que Callatis et Istros figuraient parmi les cités les plus importantes du Pont, il faut avouer que la victoire de Byzance ne concorde pas avec l’image d’une cité assiégée sans cesse par les Thraces et incapable de défendre son territoire. En outre, les Byzantins semblent avoir été confrontés lors de cette guerre aux troupes d’Antiochos II, qui décida d’appuyer les deux cités du Pont Gauche, chose qui aurait provoqué l’intervention de Ptolémée II en faveur de Byzance (Vinogradov 1999: 288-289, n. 45; Avram 2005b: 1181-1213). Les Byzantins

Ce constat appuie l’idée, me semble-t-il, que la menace thrace, bien que réelle, était exagérée par Polybe (ou plus exactement par la source pro-byzantine de l’historien achéen) (cf. Walbank 1957: 486-487, 498-499) afin de sensibiliser le lecteur vis-à-vis de la situation dramatique dans laquelle les Byzantins se trouvaient vers 220, confrontés à ce moment à la pression à la fois des Thraces et des Galates. En réalité, on constate que

Polybe, IV, 50, 2-3; cf. Denys de Byzance, fr. 92 (éd. R. Güngerich). Sur Hiéron, voir la mise au point de Moreno 2008: 655-709. 12  Memnon, FGrHist 434 F 13 (21), fragment cité par Photius, Bibliothèque, cod. 224, 228 a-b: Πολλὰ δὲ οἱ τῆς Καλατίδος ὑπὸ τῶν πολεμίων παθόντες ὕστερον εἰς διαλύσεις ἦλθον, ἀπὸ ταύτης τῆς συμφορᾶς οὐκέτι σχεδὸν ἀναλαβεῖν αὑτοὺς δυνηθέντες (trad. de R. Henry, Photius, Bibliothèque, CUF). 11 

Démosthène, L, Contre Polyclès, 4-6, 17-19; V, Sur la Paix, 25; Ps.Aristote, Économique, 2, 2, 3c, 1346b 29-33; 2, 2, 10, 1347b 20-30. 10  Xénophon, Helléniques, 1, 1, 22; Polybe, 4, 44, 3-4; Diodore, 13, 64, 2-3. 9 


Les relations entre les Thraces et les cités grecques de la mer Noire

ont donc dû probablement vaincre une coalition plus large qu’on ne le pensait à la seule lecture des fragments de Memnon. Pour cela, ils auraient reçu l’appui des Lagides, mais probablement aussi l’aide des Astes. Cette hypothèse, que nous avons proposée ailleurs (Robu 2014: 21-26), s’appuie sur le décret IGBulg I2 388, qui fait mention d’une guerre impliquant la tribu des Astes,13 une tribu thrace que l’on localise non loin du territoire de Byzance (voir ci-après).

Les relations entre les Thraces et les Grecs du Pont : l’apport de l’étude des institutions Polybe (IV, 45, 3) rapporte que les Byzantins ont conclu des traités (synthèkai) avec certains chefs thraces, des traités qui ne les mettaient pas pour autant à l’abri des attaques menées par d’autres roitelets barbares (passage cité ci-dessus). Si l’on laisse de côté la question de la menace réelle exercée par les Thraces sur Byzance, il me semble que l’autre information qu’il convient de retenir de ce texte est que les relations entre les Byzantins et certains chefs thraces étaient régies par des traités. Autrement dit, elles comportent un aspect juridique (Ruscu 2014: 268-279; Avram 2011: 69-70).

Bref, les documents que nous avons examinés jusqu’ici suggèrent que les Byzantins et les Thraces avaient des relations bien plus complexes qu’on ne le pense à la lecture de Polybe. Assurément, les relations avec les Thraces, les Bithyniens, et après 279 avec les Galates, sont fort importantes pour la cité du Bosphore thrace. Mais l’approvisionnement de la cité n’est pas assuré uniquement par le territoire européen : les Byzantins tirent une partie importante de leurs revenus du contrôle de la pérée mysienne, ainsi que du trafic par le Bosphore. Il est intéressant de noter à cet égard que les possessions que Prusias Ier enleva aux Byzantins en 220 furent Hiéron et les terres de Mysie : ce sont là deux sources de richesses importantes pour la cité de la rive européenne du Bosphore, chose que le roi bithynien connaissait sans doute.14 De plus, Prusias Ier prit à sa solde les Thraces d’Europe et obligea ainsi les Byzantins à demander la paix, car ces derniers étaient menacés désormais de tous les côtés par la guerre.15

Ce constat est corroboré par un décret de Mésambria qui octroie au IIIe siècle la citoyenneté à Sadalas et à ses descendants. Le décret fait mention des « serments » (ὅρκοι) et de « l’accord » (ὁμολογία) entre les deux parties. Le lieu de dépôt de l’inscription est le sanctuaire d’Apollon, et on précise de manière exceptionnelle que la pierre devrait être déposée auprès des stèles des « ancêtres » (προγόνοι) du chef thrace, à savoir Mopsyèstis, Taroutinas, Médistas et Kotys.19 Sadalas n’était donc pas le premier de sa famille à être honoré par les Mésambriens. Le décret est suivi par une convention (ὁμολογία) sur le droit d’épave. À mon sens, cette convention est un argument en faveur de la thèse de Chr. Danov, faisant de Sadalas un chef de la tribu des Astes, une tribu qui contrôlait un territoire situé au nord de Byzance jusqu’aux abords d’Apollonia du Pont (voir ci-après) (Danov 1951-1952: 105-151, 162-166; 1979: 49-50, 7475 ; cf. Robu 2014: 24). De fait, selon Strabon, les Astes sont responsables du pillage des navires échoués dans la région de Salmydessos.20 Ce secteur se trouvait au sud d’Apollonia, mais dans l’état actuel de la documentation rien n’empêche que les Astes aient exercé leur contrôle sur une aire beaucoup plus vaste, au IIIe siècle du moins, jusqu’aux confins du territoire de Mésambria (Delev 2015: 66).

Mais si les Thraces ont combattu à diverses reprises les Grecs, ils furent aussi dans d’autres contextes leurs alliés. De fait, on possède plusieurs exemples d’alliances entre Grecs et Thraces. Ainsi, les Byzantins et les Chalcédoniens furent appuyés par des contingents thraces dans une guerre qu’ils menèrent vers 416-415 contre les Bithyniens.16 De même, les Chalcédoniens s’allièrent avec les Thraces vers 315 pour combattre l’armée du dynaste bithynien Zipoitès.17 Diodore rapporte que les Callatiens établirent des alliances avec les Thraces et les Scythes, qui habitaient dans leur voisinage, pour combattre les troupes de Lysimaque.18 On a également vu que les Astes étaient probablement les alliés des Byzantins lors de la guerre de Tomis contre les Callatiens et les Istriens. Au IIIe siècle toujours, les Mésambriens passèrent avec Sadalas, un chef thrace, une convention sur le droit des navires échoués sur leurs côtes (voir ciaprès). Cela nous amène à nous interroger sur l’aspect juridique des rapports entre les Grecs et les Thraces et sur la question de la reconnaissance des institutions grecques dans le pays thrace.

Par ailleurs, G. Mihailov a proposé d’identifier Sadalas avec le fils homonyme du roi odryse Seuthès III. Grâce à une inscription de Seuthopolis (SEG 42, 661), on sait que Seuthès III et son épouse Bérénice eurent quatre fils : Ebryzelmis, Térès, Satokos et Sadalas.21 On rappelle néanmoins que Sadalas est dépourvu de patronyme dans l’inscription de Mésambria et que ce nom est bien attesté en Thrace et ailleurs (Dana 2014: 298-300). De plus, si Sadalas était le fils de Seuthès III, il reste difficile d’expliquer l’absence d’au moins deux de ses

Vinogradov apud Avram 2005: 1190-1193. Polybe, 4, 50, 2-4. Polybe, 4, 51, 8-9. 16  Diodore, 12, 82, 2.  17  Plutarque, Questions grecques, 49 (= Moralia 302 E-F). 18  Diodore, 19, 73. 13 

IGBulg I2 307 (= V, 5086). Strabon, 7, 6, 1, C 319 et 7, 6, 2, C 320; Xénophon, Anabase, 7, 5, 1214. Cf. Boshnakov 2003: 94-95, 188-198. 21  Mihailov ad IGBulg I2 307: 258-262. Cf. Oppermann 2004: 143-144; Mainardi 2011: 14-23; Castelli 2015: 90-97; Delev 2015: 62-63.






Adrian Robu « ancêtres » (Mopsyèstis, Taroutinas) dans la liste des dynastes odryses.22 En revanche, on constate que les Mésambriens octroient au IIe siècle le droit de cité à un membre de la tribu des Astes, un certain Δε[- – -], fils de Δηζος et à ses descendants.23 On a là un indice des relations étroites entre les Astes et Mésambria, la citoyenneté étant, on le sait, un privilège rarement accordé par les cités.

ομέ̣[νων εἴς τε τὴν] Σκυθίαν) laissent penser qu’il vient probablement d’un territoire situé au sud d’Istros.26 Dans ces conditions, il n’est pas exclu que les Thraces de Zoltès aient principalement appartenu à la tribu des Astes, dont les terres étaient situées aux abords d’Apollonia et peut-être aussi de Mésambria. En dernier lieu, on peut se demander si les chefs barbares n’auraient pas pu s’inspirer ailleurs dans les relations diplomatiques qu’ils avaient établies avec les cités du Pont Gauche. Ces relations, on l’a vu, étaient gérées par des institutions typiquement grecques (homologiai, synthèkai, octroi d’honneurs), reconnues et acceptées par les Thraces. On a bien relevé le rôle de la Macédoine, des cités de la Thrace égéenne et d’Athènes dans les échanges culturels et économiques avec le royaume des Odryses (Archibald 1998: 112-125, 145-150, 226-229, 304-316; Domaradzka 2005: 19-26; Chankowski et Chankowski 2012: 275-290; Dana 2015: 243-264). Les choses sont peut-être différentes pour les tribus thraces dont le territoire était situé autour de Byzance et des cités du Pont Gauche. À mon sens, Sadalas, Zoltès ou Rhémaxos ne font en réalité que suivre les souverains odryses et bithyniens. On pense ici à la célèbre inscription de Seuthopolis (ca. 300-280), qui fait mention des serments (horkoi) prêtés par Bérénice, l’épouse du roi odryse Seuthès III, et ses fils à Spartacos Ier, un dynaste thrace résidant à Cabylè. Bérénice et ses enfants s’engageaient à remettre un certain Épiménès, qui avait cherché refuge dans le temple des Dieux de Samothrace, ainsi que ses propriétés, au dynaste de Cabylè (Elvers 1994: 241-266 (SEG 42, 661); Calder 1996: 167-178).

Notons au passage que le rôle des Astes dans la région du Pont Gauche à l’époque hellénistique est souvent passé sous silence par les historiens modernes. La raison principale est que cette tribu est rarement mentionnée par les récits. Or, comme on l’a déjà noté, Ju. G. Vinogradov a restitué dans le décret IGBulg I2 388 le nom de cette tribu. On voit la cité dorienne émettrice du décret (Callatis pour Vinogradov, Mésambria selon Avram) et des troupes d’Antiochos II réaliser une alliance contre les Astes. Le savant russe a mis ce document en rapport avec la guerre de Tomis (vers 260250).24 Quoi qu’il en soit de cette hypothèse, le décret IGBulg I2 388 jette, me semble-t-il, une lumière nouvelle sur les relations entre les Astes et les Grecs du Pont. De fait, si Ptolémée cite une Astikè stratègia entre Apollonia du Pont et Périnthe,25 le décret atteste que les Astes luttèrent contre une cité de langue dorienne située au nord d’Apollonia, à savoir la cité de Mésambria ou de Callatis. Je me demande dans ce cadre si les Astes ne peuvent pas apparaître dans le décret d’Istros en l’honneur d’Agathoclès, IScM I 15 (daté, selon l’écriture, vers 200). Ce décret, dont il a été déjà question, rapporte, entre autres, que la cité d’Istros, de même que d’autres cités voisines (voir l. 16), se trouvait sous le protectorat du roi Rhémaxos, dont le centre du pouvoir est à localiser au nord du Danube (Cojocaru 2004: 384-389; Avram: 63-64). Mais, on l’a vu, cela n’empêcha pas la cité de conclure « des conventions et des accords » (ὁμολογίαι καὶ συνθῆκαι ; voir l. 36 du décret) avec un chef thrace, Zoltès. Les accords furent néanmoins violés par les Thraces de Zoltès, qui ravagèrent le territoire de la cité et ne furent vaincus que grâce à l’appui offert par le fils du roi Rhémaxos. Il n’est pas aisé d’identifier le centre du pouvoir de Zoltès, mais le fait qu’il assiégea Bizôné (l.  26), un établissement situé entre Callatis et Dionysopolis, et l’expression utilisée à propos de l’arrivée de ses troupes en Scythie (l. 15-16 : [π]αραγ[ιν]

Rappelons aussi ici un passage de Polybe, qui inclut parmi les causes de la guerre de 220 le manque d’honneurs octroyés par les Byzantins à Prusias Ier. Ainsi, le roi bithynien accusait les Byzantins de ne pas avoir élevé une partie des statues dont ils avaient auparavant voté l’édification. De même, il reprochait à ceux-ci d’avoir envoyé une délégation à Attale pour participer aux fêtes en l’honneur d’Athéna et de ne pas l’avoir fait pour la fête de Sôteira, organisée par lui en Bithynie.27 Ces reproches montrent que le manque d’honneurs envers un souverain n’était pas sans danger pour une cité. À l’image de Prusias Ier, les chefs thraces attendaient sans doute que les cités pontiques leur octroient des privilèges et des honneurs. Les décrets de Mésambria pour Sadalas (IGBulg I2 388) et pour l’Aste Δε[---], fils de Δηζος (IGBulg I2 312), confirment que l’octroi d’honneurs, y compris de la citoyenneté, joue un rôle dans les relations diplomatiques entre les Grecs et les Thraces. On rappellera aussi que les contacts entre les

Il n’y que deux personnages dans la liste des «  ancêtres  » de Sadalas qui pourraient appartenir à la famille royale des Odryses, à savoir Kotys (nom porté par plusieurs rois thraces) et Médistas. De fait, un Médistas, fils du roi thrace Kersebleptès, est honoré vers 355 à Delphes (FD III 1, 392) et un Médistas, père d’Amaistas, est attesté par une inscription de Seuthopolis (IGBulg III 1732). En revanche, Mopsyèstis et Taroutinas ne sont pas mentionnés par d’autres sources. Cf. Mihailov ad IGBulg I2 307: 261-262; Dana 2014: 91-92, 212, 226, 351-352. 23  IGBulg I2 312. 24  Vinogradov, apud Avram 2005: 1190-1193; cf. Robu 2014: 21-22. 25  Ptolémée, Géographie, 3, 11, 10; cf. Ps.-Scymnos, 728-729. 22 

Pippidi, ad IScM I 15: 88.  Cf. Nouveau choix d’inscriptions grecques 2005: 54-55; Ruscu 2014: 293. 27  Polybe, 4, 49, 1 et 3. 26 


Les relations entre les Thraces et les cités grecques de la mer Noire

Thraces et les Bithyniens sont documentés à l’époque hellénistique  : on a déjà évoqué ci-dessus l’emploi des Thraces comme mercenaires par Prusias Ier lors de la guerre de 220 contre Byzance. Sur ce point, les honneurs que les Grecs du Pont octroient aux Thraces et aux Bithyniens n’ont rien d’exceptionnel dans le monde hellénistique, car ils trouvent des parallèles dans les décrets accordés par Athènes à des souverains étrangers  : que l’on pense, par exemple, au célèbre décret athénien pour Pharnace, le roi du Pont.28

peut en avancer plusieurs explications : l’installation de communautés thraces dans le territoire des cités, décidée par les Romains (voir le cas des Besses installés dans la région d’Istros), l’enrichissement de la documentation épigraphique, l’intégration civique des Thraces (notamment à Dionysopolis et Odessos), des mariages mixtes, la redécouverte des traditions onomastiques thraces, ou encore une question de mode (Mihailov 1977: 343-344; Ruscu 2014: 239-268; Dana et Dana 2013: 277-305; Robu 2014: 291-292; Dana 2016: 47-67; Panait Bîrzescu et Bîrzescu 2014: 33-45). Quelle que soit l’interprétation que l’on veut privilégier, l’augmentation du nombre des noms thraces dans les cités pontiques à l’époque impériale est un phénomène qui découle des relations antérieures entre les Grecs et les Thraces. L’arrivée des Romains dans la région n’a fait sans doute qu’accentuer les rapprochements entre les cités grecques et le monde thrace, des rapprochements qui sont déjà documentés, on l’a vu, dès l’époque classique et hellénistique.

Chose importante, les rapprochements entre les Grecs et les Thraces ne se limitent pas au domaine des institutions politiques, mais concernent aussi les institutions religieuses, des divinités grecques étant attestées dans le monde thrace. L’inscription de Seuthopolis témoigne de la célébration des divinités grecques dans le milieu thrace  : les Grands Dieux de Samothrace et Dionysos à Seuthopolis, Apollon et la Phosphoros (sans doute Artémis Phosphoros) à Cabylè (SEG 42, 661; cf. Robert 1964: 157-159; Chiekova 2008: 170-176; Archibald 1999: 440-441; Rabadjiev 2015: 448449). Les Grecs, quant à eux, célèbrent des divinités qui renvoient au monde thrace  : Bendis et Déloptès à Byzance, Kotyttô à Callatis (Robu 2010-2011: 281-293), Derzelas/Darzelas à Odessos à l’époque impériale (Dana et Dana 2013: 288). Mieux, des récits mythologiques témoignent de la volonté des Grecs de se rapprocher du monde thrace. Des cités comme Byzance, Sélymbria ou Mésambria se donnent pour fondateurs des héros thraces (Byzas, Selys, Mélsas) et à travers ces figures héroïques les Grecs établissent des connexions avec le monde indigène (cf. Porozhanov 2004: 514-521; Robu 2014: 245, 285-287, 317-319).

Dans ce contexte, il me semble fort probable que l’image que les auteurs antiques ont donnée des premiers rapports entre Grecs et Thraces a été marquée par l’histoire ultérieure des relations entre les deux peuples. Les récits de fondation doivent dès lors être examinés avec la plus grande attention pour éviter de confondre des situations d’époque hellénistique ou impériale avec des réalités de l’époque archaïque. Abréviations Bull. ép. Bulletin épigraphique de la Revue des Études grecques, par J. et L. Robert (1938-1984), puis par divers auteurs sous la direction de P. Gauthier de 1987 à 2005, puis sous la direction de L. Dubois. IG Inscriptiones Graecae, Berlin 1873-. IGBulg G. Mihailov (éd.), Inscriptiones Graecae in Bulgaria repertae, Sofia, I2, 1970; II, 1958; III/ 1, 1961; III/2, 1964; IV, 1966; V, 1997.  IScM D.M. Pippidi (éd., vol. I: Histria et vicinia), I. Stoian (éd., vol. II: Tomis et son territoire), A. Avram (éd., vol. III: Callatis et son territoire), Inscriptions grecques et latines de Scythie Mineure, Bucarest-Paris 1983-1999. SEG Supplementum epigraphicum graecum, Leiden 1923-1971, Alphen aan den Rijn 1979-1980, Amsterdam 1979-2005, Boston 2006-.

Conclusions L’enquête que j’ai entreprise ici autorise à conclure que les Thraces et les Grecs de la mer Noire ont établi à l’époque hellénistique un réseau de relations qui a permis des échanges et des transferts culturels entre les deux ethnè. Malgré les conflits, il y a bel et bien eu une ouverture du monde thrace vers les cités grecques. En témoignent, on le sait, les objets en métal précieux de type grec trouvés en Thrace ou la pénétration des monnaies grecques dans cette région (Archibald 1998: 126-135, 150, 177-196, 222-226, 260-281; Loukopoulou 2008: 139-163; Rufin Solas 2013: 29-50; Paunov 2015: 265-292), mais aussi l’étude des institutions, que l’on pense à des types d’accords spécifiques, à des formes d’honneurs ou à des cultes grecs présents dans le monde thrace.

Bibliographie Archibald, Z.H. 1998. The Odrysian Kingdom of Thrace: Orpheus Unmasked. Oxford. Archibald, Z.H. 1999. Thracian Cult – from Practice to Belief, in G.R. Tsetskhladze (éd.) Ancient Greeks West and East: 427-468. Leiden/Boston/Köln.

Ce phénomène s’accentue à l’époque impériale, lorsque des noms thraces sont attestés en nombre important à Byzance et dans certaines cités du Pont Gauche. On 28 

IG II3 1, 5, 1258; cf. Knoepfler 2014: 439-440. 


Adrian Robu Archibald, Z.H. 2002. The Shape of the New Commonwealth: Aspects of the Pontic and Eastern Mediterranean Regions in the Hellenistic Age, in G.R. Tsetskhladze, A.M. Snodgrass (éds) Greek Settlements in the Eastern Mediterranean and the Black Sea: 49-72. Oxford. Avram, A. 1996. Modes de contacts entre Grecs et Gètes à Histria à l’époque archaïque, in O. Lordkipanidzé, P. Lévêque (éds) Sur les traces des Argonautes. Actes du 6e symposium de Vani (Colchide), 22-29 septembre 1990: 241-251. Paris. Avram, A. 2005a. La défense des cités en mer Noire à la basse époque hellénistique, in P. Fröhlich, C. Müller (éds) Citoyenneté et participation à la basse époque hellénistique: 163-182. Genève. Avram, A. 2005b. Antiochos II Théos, Ptolémée II Philadelphe et la mer Noire. CRAI 3: 1181-1213. Avram, A. 2011. The Getae: Selected Questions, in G.R. Tsetskhladze (éd.) The Black Sea, Greece, Anatolia and Europe in the First Millennium BC: 61-75, Louvain/ Paris/Walpole, MA. Avram, A. 2015. Les premiers peuples germaniques sur le Bas Danube. Autour du décret SEG 52, 754. Studi ellenistici 29: 27-76. Bărbulescu, M. et Buzoianu, L. 2014. L’espace ouestpontique sous l’empereur Tibère César à la lumière d’un décret inédit découvert en Dobroudja, in V. Cojocaru, A. Coşkun, M. Dana (éds) Interconnectivity in the Mediterranean and Pontic World during the Hellenistic and Roman Periods: 415-434. Cluj-Napoca.  Boshnakov, K. 2003. Die Thraker südlich vom Balkan in den Geographica Strabos. Quellenkritische Untersuchungen. Stuttgart. Calder, W.M. 1996. The Seuthopolis Inscription IGBR 1731, a New Edition, in R.W. Wallace, E.W. Harris (éds) Transitions to Empire. Essays in Greco-Roman History, 360-146 B.C., in honour of E. Badian: 167-178. Norman/Londres. Castelli, T. 2015. Un « protectorat » thrace ? Les relations politiques entre Grecs et Thraces autour de la baie de Bourgas (IIIe-IIe s. av. J.-C.). Aristonothos. Scritti per il Mediterraneo antico 9: 81-108. Chaniotis, A. 2015. Affective Diplomacy: Emotional Scripts between Greek Communities and Roman Authorities during the Republic, in D. Cairns, L. Fulkerson (éds) Emotions between Greece and Rome: 87-103. Londres.  Chankowski, A. et Chankowski, V. 2012. La présence grecque en Thrace intérieure : l’exemple de « Pistiros ». Pallas 89: 275-290. Chiekova, D. 2008. Cultes et vie religieuse des cités grecques du Pont Gauche (VIIe-Ier siècle avant J.-C.). Bern. Cojocaru, V. 2004. Populaţia zonei nordice şi nord-vestice a Pontului Euxin în secolele VI–I a. Chr. pe baza izvoarelor epigrafice (La population de la région nord et nord-ouest du Pont-Euxin aux VIe–Ier siècles av. J.-Chr. sur la foi des sources épigraphiques). Iaşi.

Damyanov, M. 2003. On the Local Population around the Greek Colonies in the Black Sea Area (5th-3rd Centuries BC). Ancient West & East 2(2): 253-264. Dana, D. 2014. Onomasticon Thracicum (OnomThrac). Répertoire des noms indigènes de Thrace, Macédoine orientale, Mésies, Dacie et Bithynie. Athènes. Dana, D. 2015. Inscriptions, in J. Valeva, E. Nankov, D. Graninger A Companion to Ancient Thrace: 243-264. Malden, Ma/Oxford. Dana, D. 2016. Onomastique indigène à Byzance et à Cyzique, in M. Dana, F. Prêteux (éds) Identité régionale, identités civiques autour des Détroits des Dardanelles et du Bosphore (Ve siècle av. J.-C.-IIe siècle apr. J.-C.), Dialogues d’Histoire Ancienne: 47-67. Supplément 15. Besançon. Dana, D. et Dana, M. 2013. L’intégration des indigènes dans les structures civiques de deux cités du Pont Gauche à l’époque impériale, in P. Fröhlich, P. Hamon (éds) Groupes et associations dans les cités grecques (IIIe siècle av. J.-C.-IIe siècle apr. J.-C.). Actes de la table ronde de Paris, INHA, 19-20 juin 2009: 277-305. Genève. Danov, C.M. 1951-1952. Kăm istorijata na Trakija i zapadnoto Černomorie ot vtorata polovina na III vek. do sredata na I vek. predi n. e.” (Sur l’histoire des Thraces et de la côte ouest-pontique à partir de la seconde moitié du IIIe siècle jusqu’au milieu du Ier siècle av. J.-C.). Godišnik na Sofijskija universitet, Filosofsko-istoričeskija fakultet 47: 105-166. Danov, C.M. 1979. Die Thraker auf dem Ostbalkan von der hellenistischen Zeit bis zur Gründung Konstantinopels, Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt II, 7, 1. Berlin/New York. Delev, P. 2015. From Koroupedion to the Beginning of the Third Mithridatic War (281-73 BCE), in J. Valeva, E. Nankov, D. Graninger A Companion to Ancient Thrace: 59-74. Malden, Ma/Oxford. Domaradzka, L. 2005. Graeco-Thracian Relations in the Upper Maritsa Valley (5th-4th Century B.C.) (based on Epigraphic Evidence), in J. Bouzek, L. Domaradzka (éds) The Culture of Thracians and their Neighbours: 1926. Oxford. Dumitru, A.G. 2013. Byzance, son territoire et les Barbares au début du IIIe siècle av. J.-C.  : quelques notes sur un passage de Polybe, in H. Bru, G. Labarre (éds) L’Anatolie des peuples, des cités et des cultures (IIe millénaire av. J.-C.-Ve siècle ap. J.-C.). Colloque international de Besançon (26-27 novembre 2010) II: 8196. Besançon. Ehrhardt, N. 1988. Konstanten in den politischen Beziehungen zwischen Thrakern und Griechen auf dem Balkan. Eos 76: 289-304. Elvers, K.-L. 1994. Der «  Eid der Berenike und ihrer Söhne » : eine Edition von IGBulg. III 2, 1731. Chiron 24: 241-266. Firatlı, N. 1964. Les stèles funéraires de Byzance grécoromaine, avec l’édition et l’index commenté des épitaphes par L. Robert. Paris. 98

Les relations entre les Thraces et les cités grecques de la mer Noire

Gyuzelev, M. 2008. The West Pontic Coast between Emine Cape and Byzantion during the First Millennium BC. Burgas. Habicht, C. 1957. s.v. Prusias 1. RE XXIII, 1: col. 10861107. Isaac, B.H. 1986. The Greek Settlements in Thrace until the Macedonian Conquest. Leiden. Jefremow, N. 2005. Der rhodisch-byzantinische Krieg von 220 v. Chr.: ein Handelskrieg im Hellenismus? MBAH 24, 1: 51-98. Knoepfler, D. 2014. Épigraphie et histoire des cités grecques. Annuaire du Collège de France 113: 427-447. Le Rider, G. et Olcay, N. 1984. Le trésor de Moda (1975). Travaux et Recherches en Turquie II: 79-102. Louvain. Loukopoulou, L.D. 1989. Contribution à l’histoire de la Thrace propontique. Athènes. Loukopoulou, L.D. 2008. Les inscriptions des trésors nord-balkaniques, in L.D. Loukopoulou, S. Psoma (éds) Thrakika Zetemata I: 139-163. Athènes. Loukopoulou, L. at Łajtar, A. 2004. s.v. Byzantion, in M.H. Hansen, T.H. Nielsen (éds) An Inventory of Archaic and Classical Poleis: 915-918. Oxford. Mainardi, M. 2011. Mesambria Pontica e i Traci. Acme 64(3): 3-26. Marinescu, C.A. 2000. The Posthumous Lysimachi Coinage and the Dual Monetary System at Byzantium and Chalcedon in the Third Century BC, in XII. Internationaler Numismatischer Kongreß (Berlin 1997): 333-337. Berlin. Merle, H. 1916. Die Geschichte der Städte Byzantion und Kalchedon von ihrer Gründung bis zum Eingreifen der Römer in die Verhältnisse des Ostens. Kiel. Mihailov, G. 1977. Les noms thraces dans les inscriptions des pays thraces, in N. Duval (éd.) L’onomastique latine. Actes du colloque international organisé à Paris du 13 au 15 octobre 1975: 341-351. Paris. Moreno, A. 2008. Hieron: The Ancient Sanctuary at the Mouth of the Black Sea. Hesperia 77: 655-709. Nouveau choix d’inscriptions grecques 2005. Textes, traductions et commentaires par l’Institut FernandCourby. Paris. Ognenova-Marinova, L. 1986. Mesambria et le monde thrace entre le VIIe et le Ve s. av. n. è, in Thracia Pontica III. Les Thraces et les colonies grecques, VII-V s. av. n. è. (Sozopol, 6-12 octobre 1985): 238-244. Sofia.  Oppermann, M. 2004. Die westpontischen Poleis und ihr indigenes Umfeld in vorrömischer Zeit. Langenweißbach. Panait Bîrzescu, F. et Bîrzescu, I. 2014. The Greek Sanctuaries on the Western Coast of the Black Sea and the Thracians. Mousaios 19: 33-45. Paunov, E.I. 2015. Introduction to the Numismatics of Thrace, ca. 530 BCE-46 CE, in J. Valeva, E. Nankov, D. Graninger A Companion to Ancient Thrace: 265-292. Malden, Ma/Oxford. Pippidi, D.M. 1976. Gètes, Grecs et Romains en Scythie Mineure: coexistence politique et interférences

culturelles, in D.M. Pippidi (éd.) Assimilation et résistance à la culture gréco-romaine dans le monde ancien. Travaux du VIe Congrès International d’Études Classiques (Madrid, Septembre 1974): 445-453. Paris/ Bucarest. Pippidi, D.M. 1981. Gètes et Grecs dans l’histoire de la Scythie Mineure à l’époque de Byrebistas. Dacia N.S. 25: 255-262. Pippidi, D.M. 1984. Parerga. Écrits de philologie, d’épigraphie et d’histoire ancienne. Bucarest/Paris. Porozhanov, K. 2000. La ville thrace de Mesembria sur la côte de la mer Noire, in Thracia 13. Studia in memoriam Velizari Velkov: 345-350. Sofia. Porozhanov, K. 2004. Thracian Kings-Gods-Heroes as Founders of Hellenic Apoikiai in the Sea of Marmora and the Black Sea Regions, in Praktika, IA’ Diethnous Synedriou Klassikôn Spoudôn, Kavalla 24-30 Augoustou 1999, vol. III: 514-521. Athènes. Rabadjiev, K. 2015. Religion, in J. Valeva, E. Nankov, D. Graninger A Companion to Ancient Thrace: 443-456. Malden, Ma/Oxford. Robu, A. 2010-2011. Traditions et rapprochements onomastiques dans les cités grecques de la mer Noire: quelques exemples tirés du «  monde mégarien ». Il Mar Nero 8: 281-293. Robu, A. 2014a. Mégare et les établissements mégariens de Sicile, de la Propontide et du Pont-Euxin. Histoire et institutions. Bern. Robu, A. 2014b. Byzance et Chalcédoine à l’époque hellénistique: entre alliance et rivalités, in V. Cojocaru, A. Coşkun, M. Dana (éds) Interconnectivity in the Mediterranean and Pontic World during the Hellenistic and Roman Periods: 189-191. Cluj-Napoca. Robu, A. 2014c. Les relations de Byzance avec les cités du Pont Gauche à l’époque hellénistique: la guerre pour l’emporion de Tomis, in V. Cojocaru, C. Schuler (éds) Die Außenbeziehungen pontischer und kleinasiatischer Städte in hellenistischer und römischer Zeit. Akten einer deutsch-rumänischen Tagung in Constanta (20.-24. September 2010): 21-26. Stuttgart. Rufin Solas, A. 2013. L’or et l’argent des aristocraties thraces. Contribution de l’étude des trésors contenant des vases en métal précieux à l’histoire de la région aux IVe et IIIe s. avant J.C., in A. Rufin Solas (éd.) Armées grecques et romaine dans le nord des Balkans. Conflits et intégration des communautés guerrières: 29-50. Gdańsk-Toruń. Ruscu, L. 2014. Relaţiile externe ale oraşelor greceşti de pe litoralul românesc al Mării Negre (Les relations externes des villes grecques de la côte roumaine de la mer Noire). Cluj-Napoca. Vinogradov, J.G. 1999. Der Staatsbesuch der ‘Isis’ im Bosporos, in Ancient Civilizations from Scythia to Siberia 5, 4: 271-302. Walbank, F.W. 1957. A Historical Commentary on Polybius, vol. I. Oxford.


Late cistophoric production during the Mithridatic Wars: a comparison between the mints of Ephesus and Tralles Lucia Francesca Carbone* εἰς τὸν Εὔξεινον πόντον, Σύλλας δὲ τὴν Ἀσίαν δισμυρίοις ταλάντοις ἐζημίωσε, προσταχθὲν αὐτῷ τά τε χρήματα ταῦτα πρᾶξαι καὶ νόμισμα κόψαι Peace being presently made, Mithridates sailed off to the Euxine sea, but Sulla taxed the inhabitants of Asia twenty thousand talents, and ordered Lucullus to gather wealth and coin the money. (Plutarch, Lucullus 4.1)

This excerpt above from the Life of Lucullus describes the aftermath of the First Mithridatic War, after the hasty conclusion of the peace of Dardanus in 85 BC. It highlights one element that will be central in this contribution, namely the fact that Lucullus, a Roman magistrate, was asked to ‘issue’ currency (νόμισμα κόψαι). Since denarii were not produced and did not circulate in Asia until 49 BC, the currency Lucullus was required to ‘issue’ were cistophori, a reducedstandard silver tetradrachm whose origins dated back to Attalid times and whose iconography remained distinctively non-Roman until 59 BC. This passage then highlights what will be a central issue here, namely the relationship between Roman provincial policy and cistophoric issues. As in other Eastern provinces, the Romans initially chose not to introduce their currency directly, but instead to retain the former Attalid silver currency, the cistophorus (Meadows 2013: 148-206). However, it is quite certain that this coinage served as a provincial coinage right from the establishment of the province, in spite of both ethnic legends identifying the cities where mints where located and local types (Carbone 2020: XXX). Before discussing the specifics of my argument, however, it seems of great importance to provide some terminological clarifications on the object of my research. My study will focus on the late cistophori, issued by Asian cities in the time span between 134-133 BC and 67 BC, a decade before the appearance of the first later Republican cistophori in Ephesus in 58-57 BC.1 The later Republican cistophori, issued until 49 BC, differ from the late ones in the fact that they bear the names of Roman magistrates on the reverse, above the heads of the coiled serpents. My contention is that, even American Numismatic Society (New York, USA). Late cistophori: Kleiner 1972; 17-32; 1978: 77-106; 1979: 119-30; Metcalf 2015: 311-320. Later Republican cistophori: Metcalf 2017). Stumpf 1991. *


before the appearance of the later Republican issues, the production patterns of late cistophori already reflected the provincial monetary policy. The initial preservation of the former Attalid appearance could be explained as propaganda, or by economic preoccupations with currency stability, but a province-wide monetary policy is made very plausible by the coordination between different cistophoric mints, as I will try to prove in the next pages. My thesis is that the coordination in the cistophoric issues all through the Provincia Asia and their connection to the Roman policy in the same years hints at a strong province-wide monetary policy. In an article published in 2011, F. de Callataÿ explained the substantial lack of Roman currency from the pool of coins circulating in Asia up to the mid 1st century BC by showing that the evidence of Roman involvement in local coinages of the Greek East is proven not only by the names of Roman magistrates that sometimes appear on local coinages, but also by the presence of coordinated production peaks and closures in different provincial mints (de Callataÿ 2011: 59-64, esp. 70-76). In other contributions I have argued that – in the face of the gradual disappearing of silver autonomous coinage – the cistophorus served as the only silver coinage circulating widely in the Provincia Asia at least until the introduction of Roman currencies in the 40s BC.2 Since cistophori were the only silver currency widely produced in Asia, a study of their production patterns could provide precious hints for the relationship between monetary production and Roman power. This chapter will build on de Callataÿ’s work by showing how the production patterns of late cistophori hint at a provincial coordination of the mints, probably due to Disappearance of silver autonomous issues: Carbone 2014: 10-34. Roman currencies in Asia: Carbone 2017: 841-845; Carbone 2021. 2 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 100–109

Late cistophoric production during the Mithridatic Wars

Roman intervention. In order to show the coordination of the cistophoric mints of the Provincia Asia, I will use the data provided by my die study of the 2002 hoard, a cistophoric hoard of 1,370 tetradrachms buried in 90/89 BC.3 For the years after 89 BC, my analysis will derive from my own complete die study of the late cistophori of Tralles, based on a sample of 465 tetradrachms – the largest number of late Trallian cistophori ever assembled.4 The cistophoric production peak of the 90s BC In the face of the absence of complete die studies for the late cistophoric production of the province of Asia, the die study of the specimens included in the 2002 hoard (burial date: 90/89 BC) could shed some light on the production patterns of this coinage. The importance of the 2002 hoard derives from the momentous years during which it was buried, as it represents a very accurate picture of the patterns of cistophoric production in the year of the official beginning of the First Mithridatic War.

Figure 1. Mint ratio in 2002 hoard.

While wary of the statistical distortion deriving from the analysis of one single hoard, Figures 1 and 2 show that the proportions between mints for the specimens included in the 2002 hoard are in line with those in cistophoric hoards dated to the same period (100-88 BC).5 This suggests that the data provided by the 2002 hoard represent a significant sample of the distribution of the cistophoric production between the mints. It can be noted that Pergamene cistophori are less represented in the 2002 hoard than in those buried in earlier years. The relatively diminished importance of the Pergamene mint could be explained by the increased production of Ephesus and Tralles in the years immediately preceding the beginning of the Mithridatic War. According to F. de Callataÿ, the production in Ephesus soared from 3 tetradrachms obverse dies in 91/90 BC to 7 obverse dies in 90/89 BC (de Callataÿ 1997: 171-172, 176).

Figure 2. Mint ratio in cistophoric hoards dated 100-88 BC (excluding 2002 hoard).

have caused the change in the proportions between Pergamene and Ephesian specimens in the 2002 hoard. According to the data deriving from this study, ΑΣ / , the latest Pergamene issue included in this hoard and dated by F. Kleiner to 92/88 BC, was issued in the amount of 12 tetradrachm o.d, a very slight increase from the previous issue, produced in the amount of 11 tetradrachm obverse dies (Kleiner 1978: nos. 3, 29 (latest issue); cf. Carbone 2020: 83-88).

The study of this hoard substantially corroborates de Callataÿ’s reconstruction, as it suggests that Ephesus issued cistophori for the year 91/90 BC in the amount of 4 tetradrachms obverse dies and 12 obverse dies for the year 90/89 BC (Kleiner 1972: nos. 45-46l cf. Carbone 2020: 117-121). There was a considerable increase in the Ephesian production in 90/89 BC, which must

Figure 3 comparatively shows the growth in relative importance of the mints of Ephesus and Tralles at the expense of the Pergamene one according to the data provided by the 2002 hoard. A certain degree of imprecision due to the impossibility to date Pergamum’s production to the year should of course be taken into account, but the comparison between the relevance of the latest issues for Pergamum and Ephesus included in this hoard shows that Ephesian production greatly increased in 90/89 BC, while Pergamum’s remained substantially stable

The description of the specimens included in the hoard and its complete die-study is included in Carbone 2020: 35–47. The dating of the hoard to 90/89 BC is established on the basis of the latest Ephesian late cistophori included (64 specimens in FdC conditions of the issue Kleiner 1972 no. 46). 4  The die-study is included in Carbone 2020: 123-147. 5  The hoards used as comparanda are IGCH 1456 (Asia Minor, 105-100 BC), 1458 (Asia Minor, c. 100 BC), 1459 (Asia Minor, c. 95 BC), 1460 (Asia Minor, c. 95-90 BC), 1461 (Asia Minor, c. 88 BC). 3 


Lucia Francesca Carbone

Figure 3. Late cistophoric production in tetradrachms obverse dies per year (2002 hoard).

Figure 4. Numerical relevance of the latest issues in Ephesus and Pergamum included in 2002 hoard (specimens).

Figure 5. Numerical relevance of the latest issues in Ephesus and Pergamum included in 2002 hoard (obverse dies).

in absolute terms, although it shrank in terms of relative importance. The same could be said for Tralles’ production. In the years between 105 BC, when cistophoric production resumed, to 90 BC, the city issued c. one tetradrachm obverse dies per year.6 The latest Trallian issue included in this hoard, ΔΙΟΝ and lyre, was produced in the amount of 11 tetradrachms o.d, of which 9 are included in the 2002 hoard.7

represent respectively 13.5% and 60.6% of the total number of specimens from these mints included in this hoard, while Pergamum’s is only 5.6% of the total. In terms of obverse dies, Ephesus’ and Tralles’ latest issues are respectively 6.4% and 19.5% of the total, while Pergamum’s only represents 5.6 % of the total.

As shown by Figures 4 and 5, the latest Pergamene issue included in the hoard was produced in the same number of tetradrachm obverse dies as the Ephesian one, while the Trallian latest issue was the least abundant, with nine observed tetradrachm obverse dies. In relative terms, however, the latest issues of Ephesus and Tralles

The difference in relative importance of cistophoric mints between the 2002 hoard (Figure 1) and the pre90 BC hoards (Figure 2) can therefore be accounted for by the increase of Ephesian and Trallian production in the first year of the Mithridatic War. The picture of cistophoric production in Asia offered by the 2002 hoard is thus relevant, since it accounts for the increased production of non-Pergamene mints.

For the date of the start of late cistophoric production in Tralles, see Carbone 2020: 152-156. 7  Trallian latest issue: Pinder 151. SNG von Aulock 3259. SNG Cop. 657. See Carbone 2020.

The invaluable contribution offered by this hoard to the knowledge of the cistophoric production between 133 and 89 BC is further confirmed by Esty’s formula, which



Late cistophoric production during the Mithridatic Wars




















Ephesus Tralles








Table 1. Calculation of the number of cistophoric issues (128-89 BC) according to Esty 2006.

suggests that the coverage for Ephesus and Pergamum – while not complete – is fairly ample.8

this city.11 The increase in the cistophoric production of Ephesus seems then directly related to the beginning of the First Mithridatic War and the necessity of financing the Roman army (Carbone 2020: 36-39).

Therefore, the study of this hoard partly supersedes de Callataÿ’s and Kleiner’s conclusions regarding the lack of exhaustive studies for the cistophoric mints of Pergamum and Ephesus, even if limited only to the years up to 90/89 BC (de Callataÿ 1997: 176; cf. Kleiner 1978: 78; 1979: 122). Concerning Pergamene late cistophoric production, the Esty coverage is around 94%, while for Ephesus the coverage is about 84%. Tralles also appears to have almost complete coverage in the hoard (i.e. up to 89 BC), with Esty coverage of 95%.

For what concern Tralles, the city was then under the tyranny of the sons of Cratippus, who were responsible for the massacre of the Roman residents.12 The wealth of the city must have attracted a large number of negotiatores and also probably members of the societates publicanorum, whose exploitation provoked the violent reaction of the inhabitants of the city.13 Cicero refers to the wealth of the city and to the good relationships between the city and Mithridates, as he recalls Laelius’ statement that the king of Pontus would have been ‘more anxious about adorning Tralles than plundering it’.14 The enhanced cistophoric production of Tralles could then also be explained with the necessity of financing a war, even if not necessarily on the Roman side. The sudden increase in the cistophoric production of Ephesus and Tralles seems thus directly related to the Mithridatic Wars.

Even taking into consideration the expected underrepresentation of earlier issues and of the possible overrepresentation of the later ones, it is therefore possible to discern some patterns in the cistophoric production of the province right around 90 BC. Pergamene issues increased very close to 90 BC, with 12 observed tetradrachm obverse dies for the latest issue, a figure certainly comparable to the 12 in Ephesus and the 9 in Tralles.9 It is, however, notable that the Pergamene production ‘only’ doubled between the years 98-92 BC and 92-90 BC. While this represents a significant increase in production, it is not comparable to the four-fold increase in Ephesian cistophoric production and the nine-fold Trallian increase. Ephesus and Tralles substantially reached the production level of the Pergamene mint at the very beginning of the First Mithridatic War.

The chart that follows is a summary of the cistohoric issues included in the 2002 hoard, divided by city and in chronological order. The years taken into consideration here are the ones closer to 89 BC, the year of the burial of the hoard. As evident from Figure 6, scarcely represented in the hoard for the years taken into consideration are the cistophoric mints of Laodicea, Apamea, Smyrna and Nysa. In the case of the first two cities, this element could be explained with the limited production and the long inactivity of these mints, which did not strike cistophori between 133 BC and the 90s BC (cf. Carbone 2020: 161-172).

The enhanced production of the Ephesian mint in 90 BC is quite certainly related to the arrival in the city of a delegation of legati headed by Manius Aquilius, probably the son of the proconsul of Asia of 129/126 BC and consul in 101 BC.10 Neither Justin nor Appian explicitly mention the city of Ephesus regarding this embassy, but it is probable that the meeting with C. Cassius, governor of the Provincia Asia, took place in

The cistophori of Apamea have been traditionally attributed to the period 88-67 BC,15 but the discovery of a late Apamean cistophorus in the 2002 hoard suggests that the beginning of their production App. Mithr. 2.11 and 3.17 (Lucius Cassius). RDGE 48, l.3 (Caius Cassius), cf. de Callataÿ 1997: 278, no. 105. 12  Tyranny of Cratippus’ sons: Strabo 14.1.42. A 13  Ferrary (2002: 144) argues that the fact that the promagistri entrusted by the societates publicanorum were often of inferior social status (i.e. slaves or freedmen) was especially enraging for the municipal élites in Asia. 14  Pro Flacco 59. 15  Kleiner 1979.

Esty 2006: 359-364. n= sample size. d= number of observed dies. s= standard deviation. 9  Pergamum: Carbone 2020. Ephesus: Carbone 2020. Tralles: cf. Carbone 2020. 10  Just. 38.3.4: in quod tum missi M’. Aquilius et Mallius Malthinus legati. App. Mithr 12.2.11. For a detailed discussion of this dating, see de Callataÿ 1977: 277. Also cf. Brennan 1992: 103-158, esp. 153; KalletMarx 1995: 250–260 (with further bibliography); Magie 1950: 199210.




Lucia Francesca Carbone

Figure 6. Chronological breakdown of the specimens included in the 2002 hoard.

antedates the beginning of the Mithridatic Wars.16 However, since there is no earlier hoard including Apamean late cistophori, the one found in this hoard should be considered one of the very first issues. Before the discovery of this hoard, the resumption of the cistophoric production in Apamea had been connected to Mithridates’ gift of 100 talents to the city in 88 BC (Kleiner 1979: 122).17 The inclusion of a late cistophoric specimen from this city in the hoard shows that the inception of this coinage should be dated to the late 90s BC, even if Mithridates’ gift was certainly significant for the prosecution of the issues.

cistophoric production should be dated to the very end of the 2nd century BC (Kleiner 1978: 87-90).

Concerning Laodicea, a similar starting date can be hypothesized on the basis of the presence of five late cistophoric specimens from the same issue in this hoard.18 The beginning of these cistophoric issues squares very well with an increase in monetary production in Phrygian cities in the course of the 1st century BC, and this could relate to the growing integration of Phrygia with the rest of Roman Asia, especially if, as it has been maintained up to now, the cistophorus was used as the provincial silver currency (Thonemann 2013: 1-40).

Pergamum and Ephesus, the only two late cistophoric mints that were active in the province since the 130s BC, both show a clear increase in their production in 90/89 BC, though of different degrees. The Pergamene mint enhanced its production between 92 and 90 BC from 8 to 12 observed tetradrachm obverse dies, while Ephesian production soared from 3 to 12 observed tetradrachm obverse dies.21 Similarly, Tralles’ cistophoric mint greatly increased its production in the same years, reaching a level quantitatively comparable to Pergamum and Ephesus.22

The 2002 hoard represents a terminus ante quem for the cistophoric production of Smyrna, as one specimen of year 2 (= B) is included in the hoard.19 The presence of a specimen in pristine condition dated to year B (=2) in IGCH 1459 (c. 98/97 BC) suggests that the Smyrnean

The mints of Phrygian Apamea and Laodicea, previously active under the Attalids, resumed their activities in these years. Although very limited, the cistophoric production of Synnada, another Phrygian conventus-centre, could probably be dated to the same

The Apamean cistophorus included in the 2002 hoard is the ΚΕΛΑΙ issue (Kleiner 1979: VIII 12-e (same dies) and Carbone 2020: 167). 17  For Mithradates in Apamea: Strabo 12.8.18. 18  All the specimens included in the hoard: SNG v. Aul. 8408. See Marinescu 1995: 325-330, nos. 12-18. Three of these coins are now part of the ANS Collection (ANS 2015.20.1575, 2015.20.1577, 2015.20.1608). 19  Specimen included in the 2002 hoard: BMC Ionia 2. SNG v Aul. 2160. It was auctioned as CNG Triton VI (2003), 373. For the historical commentary, see Carbone 2020: 187-190.


For what concerns Nysa, the inclusion of a Nysan specimen in the 2002 hoard allows us to antedate to 90 BC the inception of the cistophoric production of Nysa, which took place right before 90 BC and not after the Peace of Dardanus of 85 BC, as previously thought.20 The specimens included in this hoard show that in the late 90s BC, the years immediately before the deposition of the 2002 hoard, the patterns of cistophoric production in the Provincia Asia changed.

For the Nysan specimen included in the 2002 hoard: Metcalf 2015: no.1. For the connection between the Nysan cistophoric production and the Sullan Age beginning after the Peace of Dardanus: Leschhorn 1993: 220, 422; Metcalf 2015: 316-317. 21  See Figure 3. For a detailed quantitative overview of the Pergamene and Ephesian cistophoric production between 133 and 89 BC, see Carbone 2020: 83–88 (Pergamum) and 117–121 (Ephesus). 22  For a detailed quantitative overview of Trallian cistophoric production between 105 and 89 BC, see Carbone 2020: 156-159.



Late cistophoric production during the Mithridatic Wars

Figure 7 Number of tetradrachm obverse dies per year for the mints of Pergamum, Ephesus and Tralles (source 2002 hoard).

years (Carbone 2020: 30-31). The presence of the ethnic ΣΥΝ[NA], similar to the one on the autonomous bronze issues dated to the 1st century BC, confirms a postAttalid dating, however.23 Therefore the cistophoric mints in Phrygia, after a long period of inactivity, began their production again in the early 1st century BC, possibly right before the beginning of the Mithridatic Wars, as suggested by the presence of very fresh late cistophoric specimens in the 2002 hoard. Nysa, whose cistophoric production represents the first coinage even issued by this city, also began its production around the same years (Carbone 2020: 183-185).

between the Peace of Dardanus of 85 BC, and the end of the Second Mithridatic War.24

This coordinated surge in production strongly suggests a province-wide monetary policy, which should be related to the beginning of the Mithridtic Wars. An increase of coin production in relation to military campaigns – together with the almost exclusive presence of cistophori within the province – could suggest the use of cistophori for paying Roman armies active in Asia at least in the years preceding the Civil Wars, as the cistophoric issue in the name of Fimbria seems to argue for (Witschonke and Amandry 20042005: 87-92). However, independently of the function that these issues might have had, it is evident that wars corresponded with the opening of new mints and with an increase in production by mints already issuing cistophori.

With the caution due to a relatively low characteroscopic index, F. de Callataÿ estimated that Ephesus issued a minimum of 6 cistophoric tetradrachm obverse dies per year between 84 and 80 BC, therefore increasing its production in comparison to the previous period (de Callataÿ 1997: 176-177).26

After the Peace of Dardanus in 85 BC, rebellious Asian cities – Tralles among them – were brought back into Roman dominion and had to pay the enormous amount of 20,000 talents of taxes, in order to compensate for the five years of arrears.25 The necessity of paying the tribute to Rome led to an increase in the cistophoric production in the years after the end of the Mithridatic War and during Lucullus’ praetura (de Callataÿ 1997: 171-179).

Figure 9 presents the data derived from the die study of 233 cistophoric post-89 BC tetradrachms from Tralles and suggests the same increase in production.27 The magistrate issues are organized according to the order adopted for the die study, based on their presence in hoards and die linkage (whenever present). The clear increase in Ephesian issues after the treaty of Dardanus finds a correspondence in the contemporary adoption of a Sullan age in Tralles, present on specimens for the issues ΠΤΟΛ.28

The aftermath of the First Mithridatic War, the Second Mithridatic War and its aftermath (85-77 BC) The second part of this contribution is based on the comparison between the data deriving from the comparison between the Ephesian and the Trallian late cistophoric production in the years 85-81 BC, the years

Tralles: Carbone 2020: 197-219. Ephesus: de Callataÿ 1997: 169179. 25  Asian cities back into Roman dominion: Cic. Agr. 2.15.39. Lucullus entrusted of the Asian tribute: Plut., Lucull. 41 26  The problem of a low characteroscopic index is shared by the mints of Pergamum and Apamea: Kleiner 1978: 78; 1979: 122. 27  The full catalogue is included in Carbone 2020: 197-219. 28  Ephesus: de Callataÿ 1997: 171-179. Tralles: Regling 1932; de Callataÿ 1997: 178; Leschhorn 1993: 208-221. 24 

Similar ethnic in SNG Cop. Phrygia 705-7, 709 (bronze autonomous issues). 23 


Lucia Francesca Carbone

Figure 8. Number of obverse dies vs. specimens in Ephesus (after de Callataÿ 1997).

Figure 9. Late cistophoric production in Tralles (89-77 BC).

In contrast with the issues of previous years, most of the post-89 BC issues are closely die linked and several have Dionysus-related control marks, a likely sign of Mithridatic influence.29

suggests an accelerated pace of production, offering further confirmation of the hypothesis of their very targeted production.30 Another very interesting difference between Sullan and non-Sullan Era issues is the very different wear rate of the dies. The non-Sullan Age issues show a much higher rate of die wear than the ΠΤΟΛ issues. This element could be explained with the longer permanence in use of the non-Sullan Era dies, as they were not dated by the year.

However, despite the similarity in the control marks, there seems to be a clear stylistic distinction between the issues characterized by the Sullan Era and those that are not. The most likely explanation for this anomaly could that be the ΠΤΟΛ issues – as further suggested by the Sullan Era – were ‘special’ ones, and their dies were hastily cut in order to pay the indemnity imposed by Sulla (Carbone 2020). The very tight interlinking between these issues and the lesser quality of the dies

Despite the absence of observed die links between Sullan Era and non Sullan Era issue, it is likely that the non-Sullan Era issues (ΔΙΟΝ and herm, ΑΠΟΛ and hand holding a caduceus, ATTA and ΘΕΟΔ) should be dated to the years between 89, the year of the burial of 2002 hoard, and 85 BC, the year of the Peace of Dardanus.

Association between Mithridates and Dionysus on Asian coins, most recently: Smekalova 2009: 233-248.The Dionysus’ control mark is present on the series issued by the magistrates ΑΤΤΑ(λος), ΘΕΟΔ(οτος) and ΠΤΟΛ(εμαιος), all dated between 89 and 75 BC. 29 

The lesser quality of the die engraving is especially evident in the ΠΤΟΛ issues after 79/8 BC (ΠΤΟΛ Z). 30 


Late cistophoric production during the Mithridatic Wars

Issues between 90/89 BC and 75 BC


Control mark


IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)



IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)


IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)


IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)

ΠΤΟΛ (85/84 BC)2

IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)

ΠΤΟΛ Β (84/83 BC)3

IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)

ΠΤΟΛ Γ (83/82 BC)4

IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)

ΠΤΟΛ Δ (82/81 BC)5

IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)

ΠΤΟΛ Ε (81/80 BC)6

IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)

ΠΤΟΛ ς (80/79 BC)7

IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)

ΠΤΟΛ Ζ (79/78 BC)

IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)

ΠΤΟΛ H (78/77 BC)

IGCH 1358 (Karacabey, 75 BC)

hand holding a caduceus

standing Dionysus with thyrsus in his right hand, holding grape bunch in his left hand; panther at his feet standing Dionysus with thyrsus in his left hand

standing Dionysus with thyrsus in his right hand, holding grape bunch in his left hand standing Dionysus with thyrsus in his right hand, holding a Silenus mask (?) in his left hand standing Dionysus with thyrsus in his right hand, holding a Silenus mask (?) in his left hand standing Dionysus with thyrsus in his right hand, holding a Silenus mask (?) in his left hand standing Dionysus with thyrsus in his right hand, holding a Silenus mask (?) in his left hand standing Dionysus with thyrsus in his right hand, holding a Silenus mask (?) in his left hand standing Dionysus with thyrsus in his left hand, holding a Silenus mask (?) in his right hand

standing Dionysus with thyrsus in his right hand, holding a Silenus mask (?) in his left hand

Table 2. Trallian late cistophoric issues between 89 and 77 BC.

ΔΙΟΝ and herm is listed first because of the homonymy with the latest issue included in the 2002 hoard (ΔΙΟΝ and lyre). The relative position between ΑΠΟΛ and ATTA is arbitrary, as it is based on alphabetical order; 2 Die linked to ΠΤΟΛ Β; 3 Die linked to ΠΤΟΛ; 4 Die linked to ΠΤΟΛ and ΠΤΟΛ Δ 5 Die linked to ΠΤΟΛ Γ; 6 Die linked to ΠΤΟΛ Γ and ΠΤΟΛ Δ; 7 Die linked to ΠΤΟΛ Δ and ΠΤΟΛ E.


Given the already mentioned connection between Dionysus and Mithridates, the introduction of Dionysus as a control mark in the issues of ATTA and ΘΕΟΔ suggests a dating in the course of the First Mithridatic War.31 This means that in those years the city produced an average of five (observed) tetradrachm obverse dies (fractions excluded), a clear decrease from the extraordinary production of the year 90/89 BC, but still considerably higher than the pre-90 BC levels.

departure from Asia in 80 BC amounted to ca. 6.4 (observed) tetradrachm observed dies per year. Tralles’ production until 81 BC seems to have slightly surpassed even that of Ephesus, with the aforementioned seven yearly tetradrachm obverse dies.32 In the years after 81 BC, Ephesus and Tralles maintained comparable production patterns. The previously mentioned 2.75 yearly observed tetradrachms in Tralles for the years 80-77 BC find an at least partial match in Ephesus’ production, which decreased to 3.66 tetradrachm obverse dies.33 Tralles’ production patterns are quite similar even in this case, as there seems to be a strong decrease in production after the end of the Sullan Era issues in 77 BC.

The dated ΠΤΟΛ issues, characterized by the Sullan Era, and thus beginning just after the Peace of Dardanus in 85/84 BC, show a renewed increase in production, probably directly related to the extraordinary taxation ordered by Sulla. The production reached its peak in the years 84-81 BC, as is suggested by the issue ΠΤΟΛ, ΠΤΟΛ Β, Γ and Δ. In these years the mint of Tralles reached an average production of seven (observed) tetradrachm obverse dies. After 81 BC and until the end of the ΠΤΟΛ issues dated to the Sullan Era in 77 BC, the production significantly decreased to 2.75 (observed) yearly tetradrachm obverse dies.

The last decade (?) of late cistophoric production (77-60s BC) Numismatic evidence is helpful in showing that the cistophoric production of Tralles soared in the course of the 60s BC, probably in connection to the Third Mithridatic War and its aftermath.34 While the

According to de Callataÿ’s calculations, the Ephesian production in the years between Dardanus and Lucullus’

Ephesus: de Callataÿ 1997: 171-172. Tralles: see Carbone 2020: 219 fig. 11.1. 33  Ephesus: de Callataÿ 1997: 171-172. Tralles: see Carbone 2020: 219 fig. 11.1. 34  Figure 8. 32 

Association between Mithridates and Dionysus on Asian coins, most recently: Smekalova 2009: 233-248. 31 


Lucia Francesca Carbone

Figure 10. Late cistophoric production in Tralles (89-60s BC).

Issues between 75 and the 60s BC1


Control mark


CH 8.447=525, 526 (58 BC)




CH 8.447=525, 526 (58 BC)

Artemis standing

Table 3. Late cistophoric issues between 75 and c. 60 BC excluding fractions.

This chronological division is based on their absence from IGCH 1358 (Karacabey hoard, 75 BC) and on their significant presence in hoards dated to 58-57 BC (CH 8.447=525, 526).

cistophoric production of Ephesus abruptly stopped by 66 BC, only to be resumed in 58 BC, Tralles’ surge in cistophoric production could be dated in the mid60s BC, possibly as a replacement for the Ephesian late cistophori.35

likely simultaneously to the increase in the Ephesian issues between 71 and 68 BC.38 F. de Callataÿ rightly explains the enhanced cistophoric production of Ephesus with Lucullus’ arrival in the city in 71 BC (de Callataÿ 1997: 179).39 In a way comparable to Ephesus, ΠΡΥΤ and TIME, the latest Trallian cistophoric issues, show that Tralles’ late cistophoric production increased again in the early 60s BC, although not reaching the levels of production of the 80s BC.40

The following chart shows the sudden increase in the cistophoric production in Tralles after 77 BC. TIME is likely the last late cistophoric issue, as it is the only Trallian pre-proconsular cistophoric issue included in the Halicarnassus hoard (Overbeck 1978: 164-173, no. 66).36 The fine condition of the samples from this issue included in CH 8.447 and 526, dated to 58 BC, suggests that this issue should probably be dated not long before the deposition of these hoards.37 As far as we can tell from the combination of this dies study and hoard evidence, the late cistophoric production of Tralles came to an end with the issue TIME in the course of the 60s BC. This ending date is further suggested by the fact that only three post-Karacabey late cistophoric issues from Tralles are included in hoards.

Once again, these two important cistophoric mints seem to follow a similar production pattern, likely related to the Mithridatic Wars. Conclusions A few conclusions may now be drawn from what has been discussed so far. First of all, the die study of the 2002 hoard, whose burial date must be placed around 89 BC, shows a generalized surge in the cistophoric production of the entire province of Asia at the beginning of the First Mithridatic War. The increased production of the cistophoric mints of Pergamum, Ephesus and Tralles is matched by the

The high number of obverse dies of TIME suggests that Tralles’ cistophoric production soared in the 60s BC, Ephesus: Backerdorf 1999: 195-202. For the discussion of the relevance of the Halicarnassus Hoard, see Carbone 2021: 250-251, ‘The Introduction of Roman Currencies’. 37  For the discussion of these hoards, see Carbone 2020: 200-205.

For the Ephesian production, see de Callataÿ 1997: 178-179. Lucullus’ permanence in the city in the winter of 71 BC: Plut. Luc. 19-20. Lucullus’ permanence in 70-69 BC: App. Mithr. 12.83. 40  See supra, Figure 8.






Late cistophoric production during the Mithridatic Wars

beginning of the cistophoric issues in Apamea, Laodicea and Nysa in the same years. The likely explanation of the soaring cistophoric production is to be found in the province-wide effort of funding the war.

Carbone, L. Hidden Power. New York. Late cistophoric production and the organization of Provincia Asia (128-89 BC). American Numismatic Society. New York. Carbone, L. 2021. Epigraphic attestations of Roman coinages in Asia (133 BC – 1st century AD). in R.J.H. Ashton and N. Badoud (eds) Graecia Capta: 229-290. Fribourg. Esty, W. 2006. How to estimate the original number of dies and the coverage of a sample. NC 166: 359-364. Ferrary, J.-L. 2002. La Création de la province d’Asie et la présence italienne en Asie Mineure, in C. Müller and C. Hasenohr (eds) Les Italiens dans le monde grec— IIe siècle av. J.-C. – Ier siècle ap. J.-C. Circulation, activités, intégration: 133-146. Paris. Kallet-Marx, R.M. 1995. Hegemony to empire: the development of the Roman Imperium in the East from 148 to 62 B.C. Berkeley. Kleiner, F.S. 1972. The Dated Cistophori of Ephesus. American Numismatic Society Museum Notes 18: 17-32. Kleiner, F.S. 1978. Hoard Evidence and the late Cistophori of Pergamum. American Numismatic Society Museum Notes 23: 77-106. Kleiner, F.S. 1979. The late Cistophori of Apameia, in O. Mørkholm and N. Waggoner (eds) Essays in honor of Margaret Thompson: 119-130. New York. Leschhorn, W. 1993. Antike Ären. Zeitrechnung, Politik und Geschichte im Scharzmeerraum und in Kleinasien nördlich des Taurus. Stuttgart. Magie, D. 1950. Roman Rule in Asia Minor. Princeton. Marinescu, C.A. 1995. A First-Century BC Hoard of Late Cistophori. NC 155: 325-330. Meadows, A. 2013. The Closed Currency System of the Attalid Kingdom, in P. Thonemann (ed.) Attalid Asia Minor: Money, International Relations and the State: 148206. Oxford. Metcalf, W.E. 2015. The Late Cistophori of Nysa, in P. van Alfen, G. Bransbourg and M. Amandry (eds) FIDES: Contributions to numismatics in honor of Richard B. Witschonke: 311-320. New York. Overbeck, B. 1978. Ein Schatzfund der späten Republik von Halikarnassos. SNR 57: 164-173. Regling, K. 1932. Ein Kistophorenschatz aus der Provinz Brussa. Frankfurter Münzzeitung 3: 506-510. Sherk, R.K. 1969. Roman Documents from the Greek East: Senatus Consulta and Epistulae to the Age of Augustus = RDGE. Baltimore. Stumpf, G.R. 1991. Numismatische Studien zur Chronologie der römischen Statthalter in Kleinasien (122 v. Chr. – 163 n. Chr.). Saarbrücken. Thompson, M., Kraay, C. and Mørkholm, O. 1973. An Inventory of Greek Coin Hoards = IGCH. New York. Thonemann, P. 2013. Phrygia: an anarchist history, 950 BC – AD 100, in P. Thonemann (ed.) Roman Phrygia: Culture and Society: 1-40. Cambridge. Walker, D.R. 1976. The Metrology of the Roman Silver Coinage I. Oxford. Witschonke, R.B. and Amandry, M. 2004-2005. Another Fimbria Cistophorus. AJN 16-17: 87-92.

While the data for the post-89 BC cistophoric issues are limited to Ephesus and Tralles, only two – though very important – of the cistophoric mints active in the province, they seem to confirm the trend of a coordinated peak in production in the province in correspondence to the Mithridatic Wars and their aftermath. The Sullan over-taxation of the province after the Peace of Dardanus is almost certainly the main reason behind the simultaneous increase in production of the Ephesian and Trallian cistophoric mints after 85 BC.41 The presence of a Sullan Era on the cistophoric issues of Tralles points in the same direction (Leschhorn 1993: 208-221). In the same way, Ephesus and Tralles seem to follow the same production pattern in the first years of the Third Mithridatic War, until the sudden end of the late cistophoric production of Ephesus in 67 BC (Backendorf 1999). The quantitative data provided by the study of the 2002 hoard and of the cistophoric production of Tralles, the third mint of the province in order of importance, thus enable us to show that late cistophori, in spite of their formal continuity with the Attalid kingdom, represented the means of a province-wide monetary policy, deeply connected to the Roman power. Bibliography Backerdorf, D. 1999. Ephesos als spät-republikanischer Prägeort, in H. Friesinger and F. Krinzinger (eds) 100 Jahre Österreichische Forschungen in Ephesos: 195-202. Vienna. Brennan, T.C. 1992. Sulla’s Career in the Nineties: Some Reconsiderations. Chiron 22: 103-158. de Callataÿ, F. 1997. L’Histoire des Guerres Mithridatiques vue par les Monnaies. Louvain-la-Neuve. de Callataÿ, F. 2011. More than it would seem: the use of coinage by the Romans in late Hellenistic Asia Minor (133-63 BC). AJN 23: 55-86, pl. 8-10. Carbone, L. 2014. Money and Power: The Disappearance of Autonomous Silver Issues in the Roman Province of Asia. OMNI 8: 10-34. Carbone, L. 2017. The epigraphic attestations of denarii in the Provincia Asia (133 BC – AD 96), in M. Caccamo Caltabiano et al. (eds) Proceedings of the XV International Numismatic Congress: 841-845. Messina. 41 

Plut. Luc. 4.1.


Regional currencies within an empire. Bronze coinages of Greece and Asia at the time of the Roman conquest: a case of partial monetary convergence Gilles Bransbourg* Roman currency and imperialism ‘For let none of them have currency or weights or measures of their own; instead let them use ours.’ (Dio 52.30.9). This is how in the 3rd century AD Cassius Dio described Maecenas supposedly advising Augustus to impose the Roman monetary system all over the Empire. Such a statement probably represents a 3rd-century rationale applied anachronistically to the reign of Augustus. Rome happily used local monetary standards as long as it looked as the most practical option, especially in the East where monetization was higher and monetary traditions more entrenched. Coins were minted by city-states like Athens, whose issues were stimulated by Roman demand for coinage, nominally independent states under Roman control like Thasos in Thracia (de Callataÿ 2011: 62-63), or produced by Roman authorities following local traditions as in Macedonia, Asia and Syria after their respective conquests (Crawford 1985: 116-132, 195-218; Picard 2010: 161-92). Roman influence on local coinage became naturally more pervasive with time (de Callataÿ 2011: 55-86). But there is no evidence of any explicit Roman single scheme aiming at coinage standardization all across its recently acquired dominions.1 This said, some form of alignment towards the denarius system had to unfold, even if very slowly and unevenly (Harl 1996: 38-124). Several mechanisms contributed to such an outcome. First of all, Rome destroyed some polities entirely, their wealth transferred into Roman hands – like Carthage and with it the shekel standard; later Gaul with its local coinages. As a result, the denarius standard became naturally dominant in the relatively poorly monetized West, even if Rome itself was not the sole issuer of such coinage, as illustrated by the number of cities and then Roman colonies striking silver coins in Iberia well into the Imperial era (Gozalbes 2012: 17-35). At the same time, as Rome took control of always-greater territories American Numismatic Society (USA), Institute for the Study of the Ancient World (New York University). 1  Regarding the coinages circulating throughout the Roman dominions between the end of the Republic and the early Empire, the broadest and most comprehensive reference remains Burnett et al. 1992). *

including silver mining resources, like those located in south-east Iberia, the issuance of denarii increased dramatically and allowed Rome to sustain increasingly numerous, professional and demanding armies.2 The sheer number of Roman silver coins had to create some pressure towards, if not full standardization, at least compatibility between the various monetary standards. The issues created by potentially ill-compatible weight standards are well visible in Greece proper. In the 3rd and 2nd centuries BC, two silver standards were used mostly alongside few other local systems: the Attic, with a drachm weighing 4.2-4.3 g, and another standard that produced coins of 5-5.20 g alongside fractions and multiples across several leagues of continental Greece, traditionally deemed reduced Aeginetan by modern scholars (Mørkholm 1991: 9, table 1; Giovannini 1978: 43-51). The 2.20-2.50 g silver pieces that circulated in the Achaean League notably would have been triobols (= hemidrachms), while an alternative approach argues for the existence of a Symmachic drachm across the Greek leagues, inspired by the old 2.90 g Corinthian drachm.3 On the Roman side, after an initial phase at 1/72nd of a Roman pound, the denarius was theoretically struck on a 1/84th standard, i.e. 3.84 g’, adopting effectively its sub-Attic weight standard by the end of the 2nd Punic War (Debaes 2016). By the Imperial period, the equivalence between the Roman denarius and the Attic drachm is well attested. This said, before the denarius effectively replaced the Greek silver coinages in the Greek monetary pool, there is no evidence that actual coin holders would have happily lost about 10% of their silver in exchanging at par Attic drachms against denarii. As Melville-Jones (1979: 32) wrote about the Persian, Attic and Roman standards: ‘None of these texts, however, gives us the record of an actual financial transaction, and since no one would deny that an Attic weight gold stater and a Daric were approximately equivalent to one another, the literary evidence cannot be For the growth in Roman money supply and the impact of military expenditures on volumes of coins minted, see Hopkins 1980: 109-10, figs. 2 and 3. 3  Cf. Doyen 2005: 39-48, a scenario already suggested in Head 1911: 327. This analysis is not consensual, however, as laid out by Grandjean 2007: n. 14. 2 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 110–124

Regional currencies within an empire

Chart 1. Weights of 986 denarii from the American Numismatic Society’s collection, between 211 and 117 BC.

used to prove that a money-changer would have accepted them at exactly the same rate, any more than it can he said that because the Greek historians used “drachma” and “oboI” from time to time as equivalents of the Roman denarius, sestertius and as, they must have been exactly equal in value.’ Such a view position was echoed by Kroll (1996: 54, n. 23) as he studied the transition between Greek and Roman standard in the case of the Peloponnesian city of Aigion: ‘(...) I realize that the rates of exchange were probably a good deal more complex before the denarius forced the varied drachms out of circulation.’ At the end of the day, when Rome stipulated how Antiochos III was supposed to deliver his war indemnity at the Treaty of Apamea, each Attic talent could not weigh less than 80 Roman pounds of pure silver.4 As denarii were struck at a rate of 84 to the pound,5 there was implicit admission that 6,000 Attic drachms of high quality were worth more than the same quantity of Roman denarii since 80 x 84 = 6,720 (Mommsen 1860: 26).

initially and it came to dominate the Greek circulation pool rather organically than through some specific official decision (Grandjean 2007: 20-23, pl. 19-44). As the denarius started appearing in contemporary inscriptions while the word drachm remained in use even after the corresponding coins were gone from the circulation pool as we move into the Imperial era,7 this is simply because ‘le mot “drachme” n’est plus que la forme grecque de “denier”.’ (Picard 2010: 192). With respect to reduced Aeginetic or Symmachic standards, conversion would have been easier provided the c. 2.2-2.5 g coins that had been whether triobols or drachms had been tariffed at three-quarters of an Attic drachm and consecutively of a denarius, like the Thessalian drachms under Augustus. Even allowing for natural wear, the significant weight difference between surviving Thessalian pieces belonging to a 2.55-3.05 g range and the Peloponnesian coins remains an issue with respect to this scenario.8

As Athens followed a reduced, but yet significantly heavier than the denarius standard, Attic standard that remained in place until the end of the New Style Coinage (Thompson 1961), a complete convergence did not occur between both standards and their potential conflict was resolved by the disappearance of the Athenian issues. Interestingly, this does not mean Rome forced the closure of the Athenian mint although it had been believed initially that Athens’ support of Mithridates VI of Pontus had led to its abrupt end. This outcome was more likely achieved indirectly during the 40s’ BC as the last stage of the Roman civil wars led to the seizure of most of the precious metal resources the region could provide, while the troops and other war expenses required huge minting of denarii alongside gold pieces – aurei. As a result, minting of Greek coinage faded out while Roman coinage became overwhelmingly available and naturally imposed itself as the monetary norm.6 The denarius had penetrated Greece very slowly

Actual convergence between multiple silver standards with more active involvement from the Roman authorities is actually more securely reflected in the province of Asia. As Rome inherited Pergamon in 133 BC, it found a monetary patchwork where close to forty cities struck their own civic silver (and bronze) coinage alongside the main Cistophoric issues that were used across the Attalid kingdom (de Callataÿ 2013: 205-266; Meadows 2014: 169-196). Cistophoric tetradrachms weighed on average 12.5 to 13 g with a relationship of 3 Attic drachms per Cistophoric tetradrachm. Actual convergence seems to occur during the mid-1st century BC (Meadows Forthcoming) Local issues could follow other standards – Attic, Plinthophoric or reduced Plinthophoric with a closed coinage: Lewis 1962: 275-300; Böringer 1972: 22-27. 7  On the early uses of the denarius during the first century BC: Migeotte 1997: 51-61; Mulliez 1997: 93-102. 8  Supra, n. 3 on this topic; infra, with respect to the Thessalian conversion edict.

Pol. 21.42.19; Liv., 38.38.13. Plin. NH 33.46.132; Celsus 5.17.1. 6  On the revised lower chronology for the New Style Athenian 4  5 


Gilles Bransbourg

Chart 2. Weights of 794 Cistophoric tetradrachms from the American Numismatic Society’s collection.

monetary system incorporating Caria in the Rhodian case (Carbone 2014: 15-16).

beyond Roman means or even interests for a long time. Delegating to Athens and some other mints the task of producing Attic silver coins seemed like the most practical option during more than a century. Even if the denarius system imposed itself in Greece proper as a result of the civil wars, Pergamum, Syrian and Egyptian standards thrived until the 3rd century AD. This goes beyond transitional explanations as Roman authorities took care of maintaining these coinages while some forms of regulations combined with taxation, exchange fees and overvaluation limited their geographic circulation (Burnett 2005: 175-176).12 Possibly, the fact the monarchies that had ruled these regions had produced generally overvalued currencies represented a significant incentive for the Roman authorities to avoid their straight replacement by denarii, taking advantage of local traditions and existing financial mechanisms in order to secure some minting profits.13 As denarii became available in greater numbers, however, Italian soldiers, administrators and merchants becoming a prevalent feature even in the eastern regions of the Hellenistic world, some degree of stable monetary compatibility between these coinages became desirable.14 Most economic and political actors, including the Roman fiscus itself,15 shared the common need for a workable monetary system. As a result, metrologic relationships were brought closer throughout the 1st century AD to support simple and stable conversion rates between these coinages, actual silver contents converging partially to avoid too significant discrepancies, even though provincial coinages retained a proportion of their overvaluation (Butcher and Ponting 2005: 113, 115, 118, figs. 15, 18, 20 and 2014: 463-686)).

Rome kept issuing Cistophoric coinage, Romanized it progressively, and minted denarii alongside Cistophori after 49 BC, while the number of cities minting civic and autonomous silver coinage decreased dramatically (Carbone 2014: 19, tab. 1). At the same time, civic weight standards followed an adjustment process that brought them into compatible relationship with the denarius.9 ‘Direct consequences of Roman dominion (…) were not only the progressive standardization of relative weights, but also a decrease in silver issues…’ (Carbone 2014: 20). More active involvement of Roman authorities can be seen through the abrupt sense of discontinuity brought by the Mithridatic wars within the existing monetary standards, while only cities friendly to Rome kept minting into the early imperial era in Asia – Chios, Rhodes, Tabae, Stratonicea and Mylasa. Rome’s willingness to ensure that only friends and allies could produce silver coinage had a decisive impact on the region. Rome had finally expressed its interest into bringing surviving coinages into monetary compatibility as well, as shown by the contemporary diorthôma decree setting the conversion rate between the denarius and the Thessalian stater under Augustus.10 Even this stage was provisional as autonomous issues died out and by the mid-first century AD Rome controlled the issuance of precious coinage entirely, including those produced in Asia, Egypt and Syria.11 Some satellite kingdoms or regional leagues produced their own silver drachms until their absorption by Rome led to their disappearance in the case of Lycia, Galatia, Cappadocia, Paphlagonia and Pontus (Burnett et al. 1992: 523-537, 550-553, 567-575). Trying to extract some consistent Roman political pattern during the earlier phase of the conquest remains an elusive exercise, as geography, historical circumstances and local traditions played a large role in Rome’s decisions. Clearly, imposing its own monetary standard all across its eastern conquest remained

For overvaluation of eastern silver issues (Alexandria, Tyre, Antioch) with pre- and post-reform denarii between Tiberius and Nero, see Butcher and Ponting 2005: 120, fig. 23. 13  On profits from coinage overvaluation, see: Howgego 1990: 17-19. On epichoric (or local) coinage and Ptolemaic Egypt: Meadows 2014: 185-186. On the Attalid monetary zone: Meadows 2013: 149-205. Generally speaking, on monetary areas of circulation: Bresson 2005: 44-71. Regarding awareness in Antiquity that minting could and should be profitable: Poll., Onom. 9.79; Ps. Arist. II.B; Plin., NH 33.13.4445. More generally: Bresson 2006: 59. 14  Illustrated by Cicero trying to avoid his brother being paid in Cistophoric drachms during his propraetorship in Asia: Cic. ad Att. 2. 6. 2 (59 BC). 15  E.g. Germanicus in Palmyra asking for the use of the Italian as (italikon assarion) for computing taxes: IGR III 1056 = OGIS 629. 12 

A. Meadows, ‘Stratonikeia in Caria: the Hellenistic City and its Coinage’ NC 162 (2002), p. 101. 10  B. Helly, ‘Le diorthôma d’Auguste fixant la conversion des statères thessaliens en deniers’ Topoi Orient/Occident 7/1 (1997), pp. 63-91. 11  Brief, but most useful, overviews are provided in: Butcher 2012; Geissen 2012: 468-484, 561-583. 9 


Regional currencies within an empire

The reason for the progressive disappearance of autonomous mints striking silver does not seem to relate to a single administrative decision that Rome would have taken, as the last silver coin produced by Rhodes dates from Nerva (Burnett et al. 1992: 454). That such coinages faded out must be linked to several underlying factors. First of all, as a result of wars, exactions of all kinds and as Rome captured finally the lion share of whatever taxes were collected within its Empire and local authorities’ level of autonomous resources decreased at least in relative terms. Rhodes’ custom dues collapsed from 1 million to 150,000 drachms a year after 167 BC, because of the trade diversion towards Delos and the independence granted to Caria and Lycia.16 Rhodes ended its closed currency system in 84 BC after the First Mithridatic War and the size of its civic silver coinage production decreased by more than half after this date (de Callataÿ 2013: 238), although Cassius was still in a position to squeeze an enormous amount – 8,500 talents (=51 millions drachms) – from of the island in 43 BC.17 As the growth of the city of Rome itself and the institution of free grain distributions must have led to a significant redirection of the Egyptian grain trade, one should suspect economic downsizing in Rhodes and other states that had benefitted most from it (Berthold 1984: 51; Gabrielsen 1997: 71-74; Rickman 1980: 48-54, 156-197, 67-71, 231-235).

economies of scale as they did not control sufficiently large territories or fiscal income. Even some of the client kingdoms in eastern Asia Minor did not strike silver.21 By the end of the 1st century AD, a handful of major provincial production centres operating under Roman authorities controlled the drachm(s)-based silver coinages circulating in the East alongside the imperial denarii. The few eastern cities that issued silver coins during limited periods of the 2nd century AD did so as a result of Imperial decisions (Haymann 2011: 720-725). None of this applied to the bronze coinage. Bronze and small change Bronze coinage had spread into continental Greece during the second half of the 5th century BC through very small coins weighing 1.5 to 3 g and probably representing the chalkous, the smallest Greek denomination worth 1/8th or 1/12th of the obol. As the bronze coinage then expanded towards higher denominations up to the hemibol or obol, it progressively displaced the usual small silver fractions in most of the Greek world. Coins of respectable size and weight – 20-22 mm and 5-9 g standing as hemiobols and obols – replaced tiny silver coins measuring few millimeters and weighing less than 0.4 g (Picard 1998: 9-18; Kroll 1997: 124-7; 1996: 52-54) (Plates 1 and 2).

Although several cities in Asia Minor display impressive levels of public income during the Imperial era, notably Sinope and Nicomedia,18 their combined wealth cannot compare with the resources once controlled by the kingdoms of Bithynia and Pontus. Coinage production of high intrinsic-value coins implies fixed costs that can only be amortized through large series, implying a sufficient economic base to support it.19 The progressive decrease in the volume of the Rhodian silver issues might have made such a production uneconomical at some point. Metrologic standards’ partial convergence suppressed another incentive for autonomous coinage production, as several authorities had derived some profits at issuing significantly overvalued coinages during the Hellenistic period, notably Egypt, the Attalids, Rhodes, and for some time Byzantium and its neighbour Chalcedon.20 Finally, the large coinage supply by Rome and the eastern provincial mints under Roman control led to a classic eviction effect – there was little point for autonomous cities to compete against adverse

Several factors may explain this mutation: first of all, bronze had been produced, traded and used to produce many different objects and tools in most of the ancient Mediterranean and Middle Eastern world since very ancient times. As a result, it had come to represent a store of value and offer monetary functions under the form of ingots, bars or miscellaneous objects (Forbes 1972: 45-114). When Lydians, Persians and Greeks initiated the production of coinage from the later 7th century BC onward, they used more precious metals: electrum, silver and gold (Le Rider 2001). Bronze coins could be minted in emergency times, however, with eventual conversion into precious metal being guaranteed.22 But many indigenous cultures kept using bronze as the most preferred metallic store of value. In return, they influenced Hellenic monetary practices at the fringes of the Greek world during the late 5th century BC in Sicily, southern Italy and the Black Sea region (Grandjean 2013: 97-107). With price ratios between bronze and silver in a magnitude of 100 to 200:1, an obol of one-sixth of a drachm or a litra of one-fifth of

Pol., 30.31. Plut. Brut. 32. Mithridates had earlier extracted relatively large amounts from Chios and Tarsus, 2,000 and 1,500 talents respectively: App. Mith. 47 and BC 4.64. 18  Millions of sesterces are wasted in useless or ill-designed aqueducts: Plin. Ep. 10.37, 39 and 91; Philostratus, VS 548. 19  Especially if minting commission when striking silver coins had ranged around 5% as a normal practice, while late medieval Europe evidence points to comparable production costs although technology had improved: Kraay 1968: 1-19; Bresson 2002: 51, table 4.2. 20  Supra, n. 13. On Byzantium: Seyrig 1968: 183-200. 16  17 

Commagene, Armenia Minor, Cilicia: Burnett et al. 1992: 570-575. The 4th-century BC Athenian general Timotheos had to guarantee silver convertibility of his bronze issues: Aristot., Oek. 1351a1, Price 1968: 90-91. Earlier, Ionian cities that had revolted against Persia would have minted bronze coins in the place of equivalent silver denominations: Konuk 2011: 151-162. 21  22 


Gilles Bransbourg


the number of Peloponnesian cities struck bronze rather than silver after 250 BC (Gardner 1887: lxiii-lxiv). In Caria, if Cos, Caunus, Ceramus, Stratonicea and the Lycian League produced plinthophoric silver coinage following Rhodes after 167 BC (earlier for Cos), other cities followed with bronze only: Bargylia, Telmessus, Aphrodisias, Boubon, Cibyra. Overall, all 12 mints that struck coins during the archaic and classic period in Caria issued silver coins, while only 16 out of 25 did so during the Hellenistic period, while the others issued bronze only (Ashton 2012: 191, 200; Meadows 2014: 188). In Crete, most mints stop issuing silver coinage from the early 3rd century BC onwards (Le Rider 1966: 192). Bronze coins display a clear preponderance among site finds in Greece and Asia Minor after the 4th century BC (de Callataÿ 2006: 178-183).

1b 2a


Plates 1 and 2. Greek hemiobols, silver and bronze: 1. Peloponnesus, Psophis, hemiobol, 5th century BC, 0.34 g, 7 mm, AR, ANS 1968.57.61; 2. Peloponnesus, Messenia, Thuria, hemiobol, 2nd century BC, 6.02 g, 22 mm, AE, SNG Cop. 542-4, ANS 2006.31.2.

a drachm in Sicily would have had to weigh about 100 g in order to respect commodity-based relationships between both metals. Large pieces of cast bronze were effectively issued as in the case of Lipari, while heavy hemilitrae were minted by Himera, Selinus and Agrigentum following an initial litra standard of c. 45 g. Other cities, like Syracuse, Metapontum and Sybaris IV – the latter possibly the first city to strike bronze between 446 and 444 BC – opted for a fiduciary bronze coinage from start with obols of c. 8-9 g and hemiobols in a 5-6 g area (Brousseau 2013: 81-96).23 The heavier bronze standards decreased rapidly then and fiduciary bronze coinage spread towards Greece and Macedonia proper, resisted by Athens for quite a while, although the latter used bronze coins in its colonial domains and Salamis might have led the way locally (Kroll 2013: 109-116). Such a step offered issuing cities and their citizens two main economic advantages: potential minting profits and larger, easier to use coins for small transactions. Ancient authorities were well aware of the potential profit permitted by the use of fiduciary monetary mediums.24

Counterfeiting, lack of supply and loss of confidence in the base-metal coinage could have become rampant – as it occurred later in medieval and modern Europe. Using 6 x 48 g of bronze to strike 48 hemiobols that could theoretically purchase a tetradrachm with 17 g of silver implied a ratio of 1:15 to 1:20 between both metals in the Attic system. With attested values close to 1:100 during that period,25 significant incentives for counterfeiting could have disrupted the bronze coinage system and its smooth functioning. Although fighting such issues is rarely made explicit in ancient writings, forced use of local bronze currency is attested.26 Besides ensuring local mints and bankers would keep more profits to themselves as sometimes explicitly stated, it created the conditions for generally limited geographic circulation of locally produced bronze coins that facilitated control.27 The Ptolemies and the Seleucids under Antiochos IV produced heavier and larger bronze coins. Egypt’s shift to a mostly bronze-based monetary system after the 3rd century BC effectively resorted to a bronze coinage valued closer to commodity price (Le Rider 1998: 45-48; 1994: 17-34).28 Such developments remained nevertheless limited during the Hellenistic period, while most cities, leagues and kingdoms kept issuing highly fiduciary small-denomination bronze coins that rarely circulated far away from their

This ‘bronze revolution’ led to an increased degree of monetization, as easier to produce and to manipulate fractional denominations were made available in great numbers, while reduced production costs and the wide availability of bronze as a metal allowed a growing number of cities to undertake the production of their own civic coinage. Bronze coinage became widespread in the Hellenistic period (Picard 1998: 9), as only Athens and Rhodes struck autonomous silver coinage continuously through their entire history. About double

Price 1968: 103, commenting on IG i2 371. In Gortyn, silver fractions are made illegal when the city introduces its own bronze coinage in 250-220 BC and the monetary equivalence between silver and bronze legally enforced: Jackson 1971: 37. The socalled bankers’ inscription at Pergamum illustrates a similar case of forced circulation of locally produced bronze coins during the early second century AD: IGR 4,352. 27  More than 85% of the coins excavated in Athens’ agora for the Greco-Roman period were minted locally: Kroll 1993: 4 and 166-170. Locally produced coins dominate largely in most site finds, although circulation pools incorporate sometimes a significant number of foreign coins minted for the most part by neighboring cities: de Callataÿ 2011: 299-342. 28  On Egypt: Picard and Faucher 2012: 17-108; Faucher and Lorber 2010: 35-80; Cavagna 2010. 25  26 

More generally: Rutter 1997. The late 2nd-century BC honorific decree of Sestos mentions the financial benefits obtained through the establishment of a bronze coinage, although the mechanisms at work are not laid out: GIBM 1000 = OGIS 339 = IGSK Sestos I = Melville Jones 1993), no. 377, 276-277, ll. 4446. A late 3rd-century BC decree at Gortyn in Crete makes clear that silver fractions are no longer legal tender and have been replaced by bronze coins. That the substitution is profitable to the city is not stated, but this seems obvious from the involved mechanism: Jackson 1971: 37-51. A much later, early 3rd-century AD municipal decree at Mylasa makes clear that money changers trading silver coinage and bypassing official bankers harm the civic treasury: OGIS 515 = Testimonia Numaria: 394-397, no. 582. 23  24 


Regional currencies within an empire

production centers. When they did sometimes, there is no evidence that such coins could be traded for or close to their notional value. Rome and commodity-value coinage The use of bronze as monetary metal is well attested in archaic Italy, and the concept of money already embedded in the 6th century BC reconstructed Laws of the Twelve Tables, although Rome did not issue coins until roughly 300 BC (Crawford 1985: 1-51; Burnett 2012: 297-314). The peculiarity of early Roman coinage lies with its dual geographic function: heavy and mostly cast bronze pieces are retrieved in central Italian contexts most frequently, while struck silver coins seem to have been designed for dealing with the monetary system used by the Greek cities in the south. Series of litra-types struck bronze coins are known during the first decades of Roman coinage but no longer minted after the years 225-212 BC.29 They should logically have been articulated with the silver coinage as small change, although one needs to notice the numerous hoards where struck bronze fractions and cast heavy pieces are retrieved together.30 With the introduction of the denarius system during the Second Punic War c. 212-211 BC, the once heavy bronze coinage was brought towards a weight standard ranging somewhere between sextantal and uncial: with a Roman pound close to 323-4 g, a sextantal as would have followed a 54 g weight standard and an uncial piece would have weighed theoretically 27 g, although lighter series are known and must be connected with the financial crisis that struck Rome during the Second Punic War (Crawford 1974: 13 and, most recently, Debaes 2016). The typical as weight then decreased from a 40 g area towards 30 g and less during the first half of the 2nd century BC (Bransbourg 2011: 101, chart 1) (Plates 3, 4). As the denarius’ weight was adjusted soon after its inception from 1/72nd towards 1/84th of a Roman pound, the 1 denarius = 10 asses conversion rate implied a roughly 1:100 relationship between both metals, close to the attested relative prices in late-5th-century Athens.31







Plates 3, 4 and 5. Roman Republican bronze asses, decreasing weights: 3. Rome (Crescent symbol), as, 207 BC, 41.93 g, 36 mm, AE, RRC 57/3, ANS 1969.83.251, gift of Eugene R. Miles; 4. Rome (Murena), as, 169-158 BC, 23.72 g, 32.5 mm, AE, RRC 186/1, ANS 1969.83.283, gift of Eugene R. Miles; 5. Rome (Q. Titius), as, 90 BC, 15.10 g, 27.8 mm, AE, RRC 341/4a, ANS 1969.83.490, gift of Eugene R. Miles.

Macedonian War, Oeniadae in western Greece was captured in 211 BC by the Roman propraetor Marcus Valerius Laevinus. A significant number of local bronze coins were then overstruck as trientes, a triens being one-third of an as. These coin weights averaged 5-7 g, putting them in line with some of the Roman light uncial bronze series issued during the same period (Crawford 1974: 115, table XVIII).32

This is where the Roman monetary practice differs most fundamentally from the mainstream Hellenistic one: assuming relative prices between silver and bronze had not changed fundamentally, and did not differ significantly between Italy and Greece or Asia, the bimetallic Roman coinage promoted a commoditybased currency system where monetary values stood quite in line with the coins’ commodity content. A specific case will illustrate this. During the First

The overstruck pieces had been local hemiobols most likely. Oeniadae followed the Corcyrean monetary standard, identical to the Aetolian League’s practice (Mørkholm 1991: 150-151; Imhoof-Blumer 1878: 1-180). The metallic ratio between bronze hemiobols and silver coins depends obviously on whether the region

RRC 28/5 = Crawford series 28/5, as per Crawford 1974. RRCH 20, 24, 26, 28, 49, 50, 51, 52, 54, 55, 56, 66, 67, 68, 69, 71, 77, 78, 96, 98, 99, 101, 129, 142, 145, 146, until 150 BC (RRCH = Crawford 1969). 31  Price 1968: 103. 29  30 



Sub-uncial series: e.g. RRC 99, group 1; McCabe 2014: 101-274.

Gilles Bransbourg followed a reduced Aeginetan standard, or if 2.20-2.50 g silver pieces stood as symmachic drachms.33

Howgego 1985: 56-58). In the 2nd century AD, especially from Marcus Aurelius onward, tighter supervision was ensured by the practice of nominating a curator civitatis or reipublicae in the western part, logistes in the East, to oversee civic budgets at times of local crises.34 Then it is noteworthy that Cassius Dio makes Maecenas mention budgetary and coinage-related issues in the same section of his apocryphal statement,35 a dual concern that triggered the Pergamum’s bankers edict under Hadrian – although one needs to notice that this neither regulated local coinage supply, nor standard (Howgego 1985: 56-58). In that sense, even if Imperial authority’s increasing intrusiveness grows from the 2nd century AD onwards, it concerns fiscal and budgetary rather than coinage-related areas.

Even in the latter case, 12 x 6 g of bronze would have been needed to obtain c. 2.50 g of silver, implying a 1:20 ratio between silver and bronze, while the Aeginetic standard would rather lead to 1:10. When used by the Romans as light standard trientes, the equivalent ratio stood at about 1:50, since 30 of those coins were needed for a denarius weighing 1/84th of a Roman pound in theory, but rather 3.6-3.7 g in practice, while the heavier Roman bronze series struck at that time implied 1:100. This is a significant gap – in effect the difference between essentially fiduciary and mostly commodity-based coinages. As the Romans valued bronze under its monetary form about four times less than it was in Greece and Asia – or, which is equivalent, most Greek states overvalued their bronze coins about fourfold in monetary terms – both monetary traditions could have thrived independently from one another after the conquest as long as some civic authorities controlled the privilege of issuing bronze coins without too intrusive interference from Imperial or provincial authorities, and that their conversion against silver coinage was guaranteed locally. As these conditions were met for the essential during the early Empire, the pressures that forced progressive convergence of silver standards did not have to develop in a similar fashion.

Civic coinage seems to have remained an area of minimal interference, as up to four hundred subordinated cities, leagues, and puppet and buffer states kept issuing bronze coins deep into the 3rd century AD, a majority of them located in Asia Minor (Harl 1996: 110, fig. 5.1). It certainly helped that cities no longer minted precious metal, so that civic coinage would focus on low-value denominations. No unifying metrologic or monetary standard emerged clearly, even within relatively limited regions, such as the former Attalid kingdom. Pergamum and Sardis struck two bronze denominations under the JulioClaudians, one weighing about 5-6 g and the smaller unit at 3-3.5 g. A significant number of neighbouring cities used these two standards, nevertheless Ephesus issued up to six different denominations, including a 3-unit piece of 11-13 g and Smyrna five. If the 5-6 g coin represented the ‘unit’ all across these cities, up to nine different denominations might have existed altogether. Such a pattern did not even apply to the entire province, as northwest Asia and southern Caria displayed distinct characteristics, including fairly heavier and larger coins in Alabanda and Mylasa for instance. As the writers of RPC I put it, ‘none of them is obviously reconcilable with any of the normal Asian denominations.’36 In Bithynia, brass (orichalcum) was used instead of bronze and copper as the most used metal for local coinage, incorporating heavier coins of c. 20-25 g standing as equivalents to the imperial sestertius. The Bithynian system does not seem to have applied to neighbouring Pontus or Paphlagonia either.37

Multiple bronze standards in Asia Minor under Rome The monetary landscape that prevailed during the first centuries of Roman rule in the East seems to fit mostly with such an outcome, especially in Asia Minor. First of all, Roman authorities contended themselves with a rather loose control over civic bronze coinages as explicit authorizations to strike focus on colonies mostly, even though benign neglect was not necessarily standard rule always, as shown by the brutal cessation of all local coinages in Achaia under Vespasian (Weiss 2005: 57-68). Some degree of oversight by Imperial authorities must have applied on local coinage production then, although we do not possess any straightforward evidence about how it would have been implemented beyond such a case of complete ban. On the contrary, there is clear evidence regarding Roman provincial authorities interventions with respect to cities’ expenses and income – as testified by frequent Imperial decisions under the Flavians, required Imperial approvals on new municipal taxes, or by the concerns displayed by Pliny’s correspondence with Trajan (Bransbourg 2010: nn. 348, 380, p. 177, n. 557, n. 858; Oliver 1989: nn. 116, 125, 156; 33 

The diversity of local monetary standards is further stressed by the introduction of large but nevertheless highly fiduciary bronze drachms in cities like Athens The curator civitatis function appears under Nerva: Dig. (Ulp. 71 ad ed.) and becomes widespread with Marcus Aurelius: Jacques 1975: 161, n. 2. 35  Dio, 52.30. 36  RPC I: 370-375, 433-434. 37  RPC I: 338-340. 34 

Supra n.3.


Regional currencies within an empire

and Rhodes,38 while the persistence until the 2nd century AD of the obol as a denomination used alongside the Roman-derived assarion as a divisional unit of account, and the conspicuous absence of the sestertius in epigraphic and local literary sources helps to grasp how long the region retained its local characteristics as far as fractional denominations were concerned (Kroll 1997: 129-132).39

minting of non-silver sestertii and the use of brass (or orichalcum) as monetary metal, essentially for sestertii and dupondii struck at one ounce and half-an-ounce respectively (Crawford 1985: 256-62; Amandry and Barrandon 2008: 223-232) (Plates 6-9). Without entering into the detailed story of their genesis, what matters to our narrative is that by the time Augustus produced his entirely reformed coinage in Rome during the 20s BC, a less than semuncial standard had become the new norm for the Roman base metal coinage.41

The forces of partial convergence This said, several factors came into play that created progressively the conditions towards improved compatibility between these different bronze standards. First of all, Rome moved from the uncial or reduced uncial weight standard to an effective semuncial standard during the troubled 91-83 BC period, with asses weighing in theory around 11-13 g instead of 25-30 g (Amandry and Barrandon 2008: 223232) (Plate 5). Multiple reasons behind that move have been suggested, from increased fiduciarity at times of financial shortage to a decrease of the metallic value of silver as a result of increased mining production and overall monetary supply – while one cannot exclude a combination of both mechanisms (Bransbourg 2013: 199-216). Bronze series not being minted for a while in Rome after 82 BC, Pompeians and Caesarians produced sometimes unclear denominations following multiple standards during the early stages of the civil war after 49 BC. At the same time, there is little doubt that the significantly lighter series produced in Iberia and in the East incorporated a significant degree of fiduciarity.

In the absence of relative contemporary prices for silver, copper, tin and brass, assessing the fiduciarity of these denominations remains an elusive exercise. The theoretical ratio of silver to copper implied by an as of 10 scruples (10/12th of a semuncial standard, c. 11 g) stands at 46.67, about twice to two-and-a-half times higher than the comparable ratios implied by the Attic system. Even though the Roman weight reduction was most likely helped by the production of carefully engraved, high-quality coins made of pure copper and orichalcum, this brought the Roman and Greek practices significantly closer to one another. The effective end of the production of Attic standard silver coins contributed as well to this partial convergence, as replacing silver pieces of about 4.3-4.4 g by 3.6-3.7 g denarii implied a weight loss of about 15%. It is doubtless those Roman innovations originated from the East. Monetary use of orichalcum started in Asia, owing a lot to the spread of Pontic fractional coinage with higher weight standards under Mithridates VI (Smekalova 2009). Then the first systematic base-metal series incorporating a full range of reduced-weight denominations from the quadrans to the sestertius belonged to Marc-Antony’s ‘fleet coinage’ produced in Greece. The CA (and SC) Augustan coinages were minted in the East as well. Finally, Roman denominations struck by Roman colonies in the East almost systematically displayed lower than semuncial weights. Some of the rare asses possibly minted in Lampsacus in the Propontis under Julius Caesar went as low as a 4.2-4.50 g range.42 Another clear case of bronze overvaluation took place, as when the Roman military commander C. Proculeius struck Greek coinage shortly after Actium on the Ionian Sea island of Cephallenia (Kroll 1997: 130).43 The two largest denominations weighed an average of 6.46 g and 2.71 g respectively, as fitting to hemiobols and quarter-

The earliest of those eastern issues is represented by the duoviral bronze series of Corinth, refounded as colony by Julius Caesar in 44 BC. The older and heavier series implies an as of c. 9 g, lighter than the theoretical semuncial standard by about 30%, moving towards the 7-8 g range shortly thereafter (Amandry 1988: 8284, 76 for the chronology). Other comparable issues followed during the Imperatorial period, like Antony’s ‘fleet coinage’, falling as low as 4-5 g for the lighter asses struck before this coinage’s demise, or the Roman bronze coinage of Cyrenaica and Crete instituted around 40 BC. The Augustan reform that was to restore a stable bronze and copper coinage was finally preceded by the CA/AVGVSTVS series, struck in Asia shortly after Actium, with a slightly below semuncial weight standard.40 This latter series incorporated two sets of innovations that had unfolded during that period: the

It is often assumed that the Roman fractional denominations followed by then a quarteruncial standard as the sestertius = 4 asses was uncial. This is not absolutely correct, in the sense that the as still weighed almost half an ounce (10 scruples) and not a quarter of an ounce. The effective 2.4 weight ratio between the sestertius and the as, when compared with their 4:1 value ratio, would imply that the brass (orichalcum) was valued 1.67 times copper, at least as a monetary metal. 42  RPC I: n. 2272-3. See: Provincial.html#Lamps. 43  RPC I: 272. 41 

Athens: Kroll 1993: 84-4, 89-91, even though these drachms were later converted into obols and hemibols; Price 1987: 97. Rhodes: RPC I: 454-5; Ashton 1991: 71-90; Head 1896: cxiii-cxvii. 39  For the progressive replacement of the obol by the assarion in 2ndcentury AD Chios: Mavrogordato 1918: 41-56; more generally from coins and inscriptions combined: Howgego 1985: 54-60. 40  RPC I: 284-286, 219-222, 380-381 respectively. On the CA series specifically: Howgego 1982: 2-7. 38 


Gilles Bransbourg





Reciprocally, the spread of Roman or Roman-inspired divisional coinage into the Greek East during the early imperial era created potential pressures on the civic bronze coinages since Roman coins’ circulation had no reason to remain locally restricted. The Corinthian coinage circulated widely all across continental Greece, the Aegean and Crete (Amandry 1988: 93-108). CA series coins have been retrieved all across Asia, Syria, Cyprus and reached north-east Europe (Howgego 1982: 4-6). Finally, even if relatively rare at the beginning, imperial sestertii, dupondii and asses permeated the region in greater numbers with time and moved eastward to some extent. Roman coins represent 21% of the 3,115 coins excavated from Corinth for the 44 BC – AD 268 period, and 12% in Athens for the 86 BC – 268 AD phase, their share growing with time (Kremydi and Iakovidou, 2015). Such proportions stand much lower in Asia. In Aphrodisias, Roman bronze coins retrieved during the 1961-1973 excavation campaign number six only, to which 24 pre-Gallienus silver coins may be added, to be compared with the 615 pre-mid-3rd-century coins, of which 239 belong to the local mint. In Pergamum, eight coins out of 763 from the overall Antiquity period are Roman, while a somehow higher number was retrieved at Sardis – 31 in total, among which 29 for the sole reign of Augustus. If some areas are entirely devoid of Roman coins for that period, for instance the backwater lower Harpasos valley in continental Caria, with the exception of two early-3rd-century AD Roman silver coins hoards, reciprocally Lycia stopped producing any form of local coinage after Nero, being most likely supplied directly by Rome with Roman coins (MacDonald 1976: 13, 40-42; Voegtli 1993: 5-7; Buttrey et al. 1981: 92, 129; Delrieux 2008; Katsari 2003: 141-145).





Exchanging Greek and Roman bronze coins Although Roman Imperial bronze coins are relatively rare in the province of Asia, the Cistophoric system allowed for easy theoretical conversions between obols and asses. The reduced drachm standard implied a three denarii-rate for Cistophoric tetradrachms, and as such 3 x 16 = 48 asses stood theoretically equivalent to 4 x 6 = 24 obols, leading to an exact match between the as and the hemiobol. It facilitated the parallel use of Greek and Roman fractional denominations in accounting until the early 3rd century AD judging by the surviving inscriptions,44 even though progressive transitioning at the expense of the traditional Greek system is visible through coinage’s inscriptions and epigraphy (Howgego 1985: 56-58). This said, Romaninspired denominations did not use the Latin forms (sestertius, dupondius, as) but the Hellenized word assarion and its multiple, whether on inscriptions,

Plates 6, 7, 8 and 9. Sestertius, from silver to bronze: 6. Rome (T. Carisius), sestertius, 46-45 BC, 0.96 g, 10 mm, AR, RRC 464/8a, ANS 1944.100.3327, estate of Edward T. Newell; 7. Achaia (L. Sempronius Atratinus serving Marc Antony), sestertius (light series), 37-36 BC, 9.34 g, 28.8 mm, AE (leaded bronze), RPC I 1459, ANS 1944.100.7102, estate of Edward T. Newell; 8. Asia, Pergamum? (under Augustus), sestertius (CA series), 27-23 BC, 24.27 g, 33.4 mm, AE (orichalcum), RIC 501 (2nd ed.), RPC I 2233, ANS 1944.100.39189, estate of Edward T. Newell; 9. Rome (C. Gallius Lupercus, under Augustus), sestertius, 16 BC, 22.88 g, 35 mm, AE (oricalchum), RIC 377 (2nd ed.), ANS 1944.100.38365, estate of Edward T. Newell.

obols. They were frequently countermarked as 1.5 and 0.75 asses, implying an as standard of c. 4 g. One wonders if the soldiers who received some of these vastly overvalued coins were able to use them anywhere close to their face value outside of Achaia.

The term ‘obol’ is still used to provide bread price at Ephesus in c. AD 220: Inschriften von Ephesos 3010. A late 1st- or 2nd-century AD inscription in Smyrna compares prices for ferrying across the Hermus river in both assaria and obols: IGRP 4, 1427. 44 


Regional currencies within an empire

so rare in most of Asia and why Roman Imperial and Provincial bronze coins are rarely retrieved together in hoards. Reciprocally, evidence from the western provinces does not provide any practical case where a denarius would be worth more than 4 sestertii or 16 asses (Mrozek 1978: 84-85).49

10a 10b

If a Symmachic silver standard had been implemented by the Hellenistic leagues of Greece, they would have provided potentially for a similar easy conversion relationship between obols and assaria, since a 2.60-2.70 g drachm would have been worth threequarters of a Roman denarius (Doyen 2005: 43-44).50 In theory then, 16 hemiobols would have purchased a denarius, ensuring the same equivalence between the hemiobol and the assarion. The desire to ensure easy compatibility with neighbors might have been one more reasons why Roman colonies in Achaia like Corinth opted for a very light assarion standard of c. 6-7 g, quite compatible with the hemiobols struck during the same period in the region, as illustrated by the Achaian city of Aigion (Amandry 1997: 144, 148; Kroll 1996: 59, table 2), but much lower than the Imperial asses minted in the western part of the Empire. Again, this does not prove that locally issued assaria would have been accepted at par with Imperial asses after the Augustan reform.

11a 11b Plates 10 and 11. Imperial as, provincial assarion (Augustus): 10. Rome (Tiberius under Augustus), as, AD 10-11, 10.61 g, 26.5 mm, AE, RIC 469 (2nd ed.), ANS 1944.100.39273, estate of Edward T. Newell; 11. Ephesus, one-unit (=assarion?), 27 BC - AD 14, 5.64 g, 18.4 mm, AE, RPC I 2587, ANS 1944.100.46089, estate of Edward T. Newell.

literary texts or the rare coinages that bore inscribed denominations.45 At the same time, local bronze weight standards remained significantly lower than their equivalent Roman imperials: around 5-6 g for the assaria in 1st-century AD Asia,46 vs. between 10 and 12 g for the asses issued by Imperial mints during the same period (Plates 10, 11).

In areas using the Attic system, the situation was more challenging, as the six obols to a drachm conversion system had no easy parallel with the 16 assaria for a denarius Roman relationship. Strictly speaking, the obol would be worth 2.67 assaria and the hemibol 1.33 assaria. This is only at a chalkous level – normally worth 1/8th of the obol – that a straight three chalkoi to one assarion relationship could work. Athens nevertheless stuck to a modified Attic standard where the currency unit called ‘drachm’ had come to stand for the obol, six bronze drachms being worth a silver denarius (Kroll 1993: 89-91). How both systems could be brought to work out together might be explained by the peculiar manner in which ancient mathematics operated. Traditional Mediterranean-Near Eastern computations evolved alongside duodecimal lines. Rome did not escape that rule: the ounce represented 1/12th of the pound, then came the semuncia (1/24th), the sicilicus (1/48th), the sextula (1/72nd), up to the scriptulus of 1/288th, while multipliers led to the quinqucis of 5/12th, etc. Volusius Maecianus, who wrote at the time of Trajan, applied the same system of compounded ratios to the monetary units, as and denarius, although equivalent fractions did not fit immediately with the existing as at 1/16th of a

One cannot rule out that assaria were, in practice, never exchanged at their theoretical value of 16 to the denarius, such a ratio being upheld for accounting purposes only, hence the peculiar use of the term ‘silver assaria’ in the Salutaris inscription.47 This could show that the assarion was effectively tariffed at 1/16th of a denarius as far as accounting was concerned, while leaving open the effective rate of conversion for actual bronze coins (Melville-Jones 1971: 99105). The Pergamum Banking inscription not only provides a 1 to 18 relationship to whomever wished to buy denarii, but a 1 to 17 on the other side of the transaction, showing a middle rate of 17.5 and not 16.48 If 16 had been respected, one would expect the bankers’ margined rates to stand on each side of that ratio (MacDonald 1989: 120-123). Although that degree of undervaluation stands well below what would have been required by strict adhesion to weight standards, such margins must reflect the fact that Roman bronze coins remained more desirable and more valuable in practice, possibly one of the reasons why they are On coinage, Chios: Mavrogordato 1918. In Aigion, ‘Ac Γ’ appears as the abbreviated format for the three-assaria denomination under Marcus Aurelius: Kroll 1996: 58. 46  RPC I: 374. 47  Forschungen in Ephesos II, 27 = AGIBM III, 481. 48  IGRR 4, 352 = OGIS 484. 45 

There are convincing arguments that the few cases where bronze coins seem to operate alongside a different conversion rate are not decisive: Crawford 1970: 43, n. 32 vs. Melville-Jones 1971: 103. 50  Supra, n. 3. 49 


Gilles Bransbourg denarius.51 This may be the explanation behind those prices using 1/24th of a denarius as units of account without having to consider undervalued exchange rates between silver and bronze Imperial coinages (Sperber 1974: 118-119; Melville-Jones 1971: 103). Actual conversion of coins would occur at some point at the nummularii levels, with no difficulties as long as long as coins were numerous enough, since three hemibols were worth four assaria exactly. Both types of coinage would have been converted following the ratios that respected their reciprocal values to the denarius as the larger unit of account.

This does not imply that all eastern base metal denominations simply followed a straightforward trend towards heavier standards. Local authorities started to strike higher fractional denominations as well, moving from the hemiobol as the most frequently struck highest fractional denomination towards diassaria and triassaria, moving closer to the Roman system where dupondii and sestertii closed the gap between bronze and silver coins. Using histograms may bring a more accurate picture as individual denominations are better displayed, provided sufficiently high numbers of coins are used.

Obviously, the easiest solution was to adopt straight Roman standards. In c. 38 BC, the Epiriot city of Apollonia minted new coins series still using its traditional types but displaying much heavier weights than previously used under its traditional obol system and its 4-5 g hemiobol. Using the contemporary fleet coinage struck under Marc Antony as a reference, the local as standard weighed 8.3 g, with denominations ranging from the semis to the tressis (three asses) (Gjongecaj 2011: 231).52 The replacement of 4-5 g hemiobols by 8.3 g asses implied an effective 50% monetary devaluation of bronze, effectively moving from the ‘Greek’ to the Roman monetary practice with respect to the value of monetary bronze.

The three following histograms (charts 7, 6, 5) depict 780, 268 and 723 bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, struck between c. 300 and 133 BC, 133 and 30 BC and 30 BC and AD 117 respectively. The mints gathered here include the following regions: Aegean Islands, Aeolis, Caria, Islands of Caria, Ionia, Mysia, Cappadocia, Cilicia, Lydia, Bithynia, Pamphylia, Phrygia, Troas, Lycia, Paphlagonia, Pontus, Bosporus, Pisidia, Galatia, Asia, Lycaonia. The same two trends are effectively visible: higher denominations appear as coins weighing between 9 and 25 g become better represented. At the same time, the mode (the 3.5-4.5 g range during the Hellenistic period) is replaced by a 4.5-5.5 g during the pre-Imperial period and then by the 4.5-6 g range.

Empire and diversity

Although multiple local standards thrived, bronze and copper coinages in the eastern part of the Empire grew in weight and moved towards higher denominations as well, in a manner compatible with Roman monetary practices. At the same time, Rome’s coinage reforms and innovations of the Imperatorial and Augustan periods did not ignore the Hellenistic realities, far from it. Not only did weight standards move lower, but the use of new base alloys such as orichalcum allowed for the replacement of silver for the sestertius, a denomination that was to become the most standard coin of the Empire for more than two centuries.

Several cities minted Roman denominations from Marc Antony or Octavian onward, notably Roman colonies as well as major trade or cultural centers (e.g. Corinth, Patras, and Apollonia), while others stuck to Greek fractional coinage – like Aigion until the 2nd century AD or Athens (Kroll 1997). Obols were used in Ephesus until the early 3rd century AD. At the same time, Roman denominations struck by local cities, colonies or not, moved towards local standards rather than respecting the Imperial weight system (Amandry 1997). Reciprocally, there are clear cases of Greek cities producing heavier bronze coinages as they come under Roman influence (chart 3 and 4).

The Roman conquest of the East did not lead to classic colonial alignment with the metropolis – Rome. The Greek-speaking East developed a peculiar synthesis, where local practice influenced and was influenced at the same time by the conqueror while retaining a high degree of diversity. Roman colonialism, if such concept is adapted to the complexity of the way Roman dominions grew, allowed for a rather large degree of political autonomy at a local level, very well reflected in the monetary sphere.

A general increase of the average weight of circulating fractional denominations in Greece and Asia would confirm that a progressive convergence between both systems took place. The weights of the 314 and 985 dated Peloponnesian and Macedonian bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society collection ranging between the fifth century BC and the second century AD seem to vindicate such a scenario.

51  52 

Vol. Maec., Distributio, 61.20-64.11 and 67.12-68-24. For fleet coinage: RPC I: 284-286.


Regional currencies within an empire

Chart 3. Weights of 313 Peloponnesian bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, from the late 5th century BC until the reign of Antoninus Pius (AD 138-161).

Chart 4. Weights of 985 Macedonian bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, from the 5th century BC until the reign of Trajan (AD 98-117).

Chart 5. Weight histogram of 723 Asia Minor bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, 30 BC – AD 117.

Chart 6. Weight histogram of 268 Asia Minor bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, 133-30 BC.


Gilles Bransbourg

Chart 7. Chart 4: Weight histogram of 780 Asia Minor bronze coins from the American Numismatic Society, c. 300-133 BC.

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Gilles Bransbourg Kroll, J.H. 1997. Traditionalism vs Romanization in Bronze Coinages of Greece, 42-31 BC. Topoi Orient/ Occident 7/1: 123-136. Kroll, J.H. 2013. Salamis again, in C. Grandjean and A. Moustaka (eds) Aux origines de la monnaie fiduciaire. Traditions métallurgiques et innovations numismatiques. Actes de l’atelier international des 16 et 17 novembre 2012 à Tours: 109-116. Bordeaux. Le Rider, G. 1966. Les monnaies crétoises du 5e au 1er siècle av. J.-C.: 192. Études crétoises publiées sous la direction de l’École française d’Athènes, tome XV. Paris. Le Rider, G. 1994. Antiochos IV et le monnayage de bronze séleucide. BCH 118: 17-34. Le Rider, G. 1998. Note sur les marques de valeur des bronzes d’Antiochos IV (175-164). RN 153: 45-48. Le Rider, G. 2001. La naissance de la monnaie  : pratiques monétaires de l’Orient ancien. Paris. Lewis, D.M. 1962. The Chronology of the Athenian New Style Coinage. NC, 7th series, vol. 2: 275-300. McCabe, A. 2014. The Anonymous Struck Bronze Coinage of the Roman Republic: a Provisional Arrangement, in P. van Alfen and R. Witschonke (eds) Essays in Honour of Roberto Russo: 101-274. London/Zurich. MacDonald, D. 1976. Greek and Roman Coins from Aphrodisias. British Archaeological Reports Supplementary Series 9. Oxford. MacDonald, D. 1989. The Worth of the Assarion. Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte Bd. 38, H. 1: 120-123. Mavrogordato, J. 1918. A chronological arrangement of the coins of Chios, V. NC 18: 41-56. Meadows, A. 2002. Stratonikeia in Caria: the Hellenistic City and its Coinage. NC 162: 79-134. Meadows, A. 2013. The Closed Currency System of the Attalid Kingdom, in P. Thonemann (ed.) Attalid Asia Minor: Money, International Relations and the State: 149205. Oxford. Meadows, A. 2014. The Spread of Coins in the Hellenistic World, in P. Bernholz and R. Vaubel (eds) Explaining Monetary and Financial Innovation: 169-96. Berlin/ New York. Melville-Jones, J.R. 1971. Denarii, asses and assaria in the early Roman Empire. Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 18: 99-105. Meadows (forthcoming): Meadows A. (forthcoming), The penetration of the denarius and quinarius standards into Asia Minor in the 1st century BC, in Richard Ashton and Nathan Badoud (eds) Graecia Capta? Roman Influence on Coinage and Circulation in the Aegean Region in the Second and First Centuries BC Proceedings of a Colloquium held at the University of Fribourg, 14-15 April 2016. Melville-Jones, J.R. 1979. Darics at Delphi. RBNS 125: 2536. Melville Jones, J. 1993. Testimonia Numaria. Greek and Latin Texts concerning Ancient Greek Coinage, vol. I. London. Migeotte, L. 1997. La date de l’oktôbolos eisphora de Messène. Topoi Orient/Occident 7/1: 51-61.

Mommsen 1860: Mommsen Th. Geschichte des römischen Münzwesens. Berlin. Mørkholm, O. 1991. Early Hellenistic Coinage from the accession of Alexander to the Peace of Apamea (336-186 B.C.). Cambridge. Mrozek, S. 1978. Les espèces monétaires dans les inscriptions latines du Haut-Empire romain, in Les «  dévaluations  » à Rome. Époque républicaine et impériale. Actes du Colloque de Rome (13-15 novembre 1975), vol. I: 79-87. Rome. Mulliez, D. 1997. Le denier dans les actes d’affranchissement delphiques. Topoi Orient/Occident 7/1: 93-102. Oliver, J. 1989. Greek Constitutions of Early Roman Emperors from Inscriptions and Papyri. Memoirs of the American Philosophical Society 178. Philadelphia. Picard, O. 1998. La valeur des monnaies grecques en bronze. RN: 9-18. Picard, O. 2010. Rome et la Grèce à la basse période hellénistique: monnaies et impérialisme Journal des Savants 2 (Juillet – Décembre): 161-192. Picard, O. and Faucher, T. 2012. Les monnaies lagides, in O. Picard, C. Bresc, T. Faucher, G. Gorre, M.-C. Marcellesi and C. Morisson (eds) Les monnaies des fouilles du Centre d’Etudes Alexandrines : les monnayages de bronze à Alexandrie de la conquête d’Alexandre à l’Egypte moderne: 17-108. Etudes Alexandrines 25. Alexandria. Price, M.J. 1968. Early Greek Bronze Coinage, in C.M. Kraay and G.K. Jenkins (eds) Essays in Greek Coinage presented to Stanley Robinson: 90-104. Oxford. Price, M.J. 1987. Southern Greece, in A. Burnett and M. Crawford (eds) The Coinage of the Roman World in the Late Republic: 95-104. British Archaeological Reports International Series 326. Oxford. Rickman, G. 1980. The Corn Supply of Ancient Rome. Oxford. Rutter, N.K. 1997. The Greek Coinage of Southern Italy and Sicily. London. Sargent, T. and Velde, F. 2002. The Big Problem of Small Change. Princeton/Oxford. Seyrig, H. 1968. Monnaies hellénistiques de Byzance et de Chalcédoine, in C.M. Kraay and G.K. Jenkins (eds) Essays in Greek Coinage presented to Stanley Robinson: 183-200. Oxford. Smekalova, T. 2009. The Earliest Application of Brass and “Pure” Copper in the Hellenistic Coinages of Asia Minor and the Northern Black Sea Coast, in Jakob Munk Hojte (ed.), Mithridates VI and the Pontic Kingdom: 233-248. Aarhus University Press. Sperber, D. 1974. Roman Palestine 200-400: Money and Prices. Ramat-Gan. Voegtli, H. 1993. Die Fundmünzen aus der Stadtgrabung von Pergamon. Berlin/New York. Weiss, P. 2005. The Cities and Their Money, in C. Howgego, V. Heuchert and A. Burnett (eds) Coinage and Identity in the Roman Provinces: 57-68. Oxford. 124

Part 3

Indigenous cultures and colonial contacts


Decolonizing the Indo-Greeks Richard Wenghofer* The Hellenistic Far East,1 known to posterity through its brilliant coinage and a handful of tantalizing textual references, has stoked the scholarly imagination for centuries. Most scholars of the Hellenistic Far East tend to see the distribution of these brilliant bilingual Greek/ Karoshthi coins across modern Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India as prima facie evidence for the presence of Greek rule and colonization in these regions (Mairs 2011: 14), and tend to use them to establish a basic chronology, sequence of rulers, and political geography for Greek rule in India (Tarn 1997: ch. 4; Narain 2003: ch. 3; Bopearachchi 1991: 49-56; Sidky 2000:189-199; Jakobsson 2009: 505-551; Coloru 2009: chs. 5 and 8). Then the all too scant literary, archaeological, and epigraphic evidence are used to corroborate the narrative created by the coins. But this approach places more explanatory weight upon the numismatic evidence than the coins will bear and conflates archaeological culture with ethnic culture. In this contribution, therefore, I shall reverse the common approach and start with the literary evidence, testing this to see what if anything it tells us about a Greek presence in India in the 2nd and 1st centuries BC. I shall then turn to the archaeological and epigraphic evidence to see if these corroborate or contradict the picture presented by the literary evidence, before turning to the coins themselves to see how these further modify the picture of the Greek presence in India. There are three main arguments that I will pursue. The first is that the Indo-Greek kingdoms were limited mainly to the southern regions of Bactria and the Paropamisus and did not extend as far into India as is commonly thought. The second argument is that the bicultural coinage of the Indo-Greeks cannot be used as indicia for the ethnicity of the kings who minted it or the people among whom it circulated. Instead, I shall argue that the unique bicultural characteristics of the Indo-Greek coinage should be seen as an attempt on the part of the rulers of these march-states to establish their own local dynastic ambitions by advertising on their coinage their connections to the major hegemonic powers hemming them in on their western and eastern borders. Between the death of Alexander in 323 BC and the establishment of Mauryan hegemony in western India in c. 317 BC, the territory that Alexander subjugated in the Nipissing University, CCC 2014 (Edinburgh). 1  See Mairs 2011: 9 for the use of the term ‘Hellenistic Far-East’ in preference to terms such as ‘Indo-Greek’ or ‘Greco-Bactrian’. *

Punjab and along the Indus remained under the Indian rulers Taxiles and Porus,2 who seem to have played an ancillary role in the struggles of the Diadochs.3 By about 317 BC these territories fell to Chandragupta Maurya (c. 340-298 BC). The fate of any Greeks or Macedonians left in India by Alexander is unknown, but there could not have been many of them and they likely did not survive his departure (Narain 1965: 155-165). In about 305 BC, Seleucus I Nicator (358-281 BC), having just regained control over the other Upper Satrapies, arrived in India at the head of an army, presumably looking to bring India under his hegemony. According to Strabo, the result was a treaty whereby Seleucus recognized the rule of Chandragupta in India, Arachosia, Areia, and the Paropamisus in exchange for five hundred elephants and a marriage treaty (ἐπιγαμία).4 It is more probable that the ἐπιγαμία refers to a dynastic marriage between the Seleucid and Mauryan houses (Plischke 2014: 190; Kosmin 2014: 33), rather than to marriage between Indians and Greeks and Macedonians dwelling in the regions ceded to Chandragupta, as some have supposed (Mairs 2006: 52; Thapar 2002: 177; Coloru 2009: 143). More importantly, this ‘Treaty of the Indus’ effectively provided a terminus for Seleucid rule in the East (Grainger 2013: 64-65; Kosmin 2014: 33) and for a time denied subsequent Seleucid kings the opportunity to establish Greco-Macedonian settlements in India. In spite of the Indus Treaty, relations between Mauryan India and Greeks to the west remained friendly. Pliny the Elder records that Ptolemy II (309-246 BC) sent a certain Dionysius as an ambassador to the Mauryan court (Pliny, NH 6.58). In 305 BC Seleucus I sent Megathenes as his ambassador to Chandragupta, and Antiochus I (324-261 BC) likewise sent Deimachus to the court of Chadragupta’s son and successor, Allitrochades (Bindusara) (298-272 BC) (Strab. Geog. 2.1.9). The Mauryan king Aśoka (r. 269-232 BC) appears to have conducted regular correspondence with several Greek kings to the west (von Hinüber 2010: 261-266),5 and in c. 208 BC Antiochus III (241-187 BC) marched east after regaining control of the Upper Satrapies, which were initially lost at his accession, in order to renew the treaty of φιλία with the king Sophagesenus (Polyb. 2  3 

Cf. Diod. Sic. 18.3.2-3, 39.5-6; Just. 13.4. Diod. Sic. 19.14.8, 15.28, 33.1, 44.1

Strab. Geog. 15.2.9. App. Syr. 55 uses the phrase κῆδον συνέθετο. 4 

See also Narain 1965: 163-164 for diplomatic contacts between Hellenistic kingdoms and the Mauryan court. 5 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 126–136

Decolonizing the Indo-Greeks

11.34.1), who was probably a Mauryan vassal ruling in the Paropamisus. Indian-Greek relations were not just limited to diplomatic exchanges. Cultural exchanges took place as well. According to Athenaeus, Hegesander recorded that the Mauryan king, Bindusara, wrote to Antiochus I in search of some wine, figs, and a sophist (Athen. Deip. 15.652ff). Aśoka published his Thirteenth Rock Edict promoting the tenets of Buddhist thought at Kandahar in both Greek and Aramaic and another similar edict in Greek alone at old Kandahar (SherwinWhite and Kuhrt 1993: 101-103; cf. Schlumberger et al. 1958: 1-48). Thus while India was closed to Greek settlement, lively diplomatic and cultural exchanges between Greeks and Indians continued. The regions of Bactria, Arachosia, Areia, and the Paropamisus thus constituted a zone of contact where two hegemonic polities met, one Greco-Macedonian and the other Indian.

Νικάτορος, φησὶ μὲν αὐτοὺς αὐξηθέντας ἐπιθέσθαι καὶ τῇ Ἰνδικῇ: οὐδὲν δὲ προσανακαλύπτει τῶν πρότερον ἐγνωσμένων, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐναντιολογεῖ πλείω τῆς Ἰνδικῆς ἐκείνους ἢ Μακεδόνας καταστρέψασθαι λέγων: Εὐκρατίδαν γοῦν πόλεις χιλίας ὑφ᾽ ἑαυτῷ ἔχειν:’ (Strab. Geog. 15.1.3). Strabo’s precise wording here deserves close attention. First, he only notes that Greek kings from Bactria ‘attacked’ or ‘made an attempt’ (ἐπιθέσθαι) on India. He does not say that they succeeded. More significantly, Strabo is clearly skeptical of Apollodorus’ claim, noting that he contradicts (ἐναντιολογεῖ) the known facts about the extent of Greek rule in India. Strabo repeats his skepticism of Apollodorus’ claims regarding the extent of the conquests of the Greco-Bactrian kings Demetrius I (r. c. 200-190 BC) (Bopearachchi 1991: 49) and Menander I (r. c. 155-130 BC) (Bopearachchi 1991: 76):

In about 185 BC Pushyamitra Sunga toppled the Mauryan dynasty and established Sunga rule over much of the erstwhile Mauryan Empire, triggering incursions of Greeks from Bactria into Arachosia, the Paropamisus, and Punjab. The literary evidence for these Greek incursions suggests that they were ephemeral. Perhaps they came as allies in support of the warring Sungas and Mauryans or perhaps they were looking to expand their own kingdoms. Whatever their motivation, the literary evidence militates against the widely held theory that they carved out a Greek kingdom in north-western India. According to Strabo, Apollodorus of Artemita6 claimed that the Greek kings of Bactria invaded India and conquered more of it than the Macedonians who accompanied Alexander:

‘The Greeks who brought about its [i.e. Bactria’s] revolt grew so strong because of the excellence of the land that they prevailed over the Indians too, as Apollodorus of Artemita says, and they defeated more nations than Alexander, and especially Menander (if indeed he did cross the Hypanis and went beyond it as far as the Imaus) – he himself [defeated] some, while Demetrius, the son of Euthydemus the king of the Bactrians [subdued] others: not only did they hold Patalene, but the kingdom of the other coast, which is called the kingdom of Sarostos and Sigerdidos. Altogether, he says that Bactria is the ornament of Ariana. Moreover, they extended their rule all the way to the Seres and the Phrynia.’

‘Nor have those in much later times [i.e. after Alexander] written anything about these things, nor do those who sail there now record anything accurate. Apollodorus [i.e. of Artemita] at least composed his Parthica, who, making mention of the Greeks who rebelled in Bactria from the Syrian kings from the line of Seleucus Nicator, says that they, having grown strong, made an attempt upon Indian territory: but he disclosed nothing additional of what was known before, but even contradicted [this] saying that these men conquered more of Indian territory than the Macedonians: that Eucratides at least had a thousand cities himself.’

‘τοσοῦτον δὲ ἴσχυσαν οἱ ἀποστήσαντες Ἕλληνες αὐτὴν διὰ τὴν ἀρετὴν τῆς χώρας ὥστε τῆς τε Ἀριανῆς ἐπεκράτουν καὶ τῶν Ἰνδῶν, ὥς φησιν Ἀπολλόδωρος ὁ Ἀρταμιτηνός, καὶ πλείω ἔθνη κατεστρέψαντο ἢ Ἀλέξανδρος, καὶ μάλιστα Μένανδρος (εἴ γε καὶ τὸν Ὕπανιν διέβη πρὸς ἔω καὶ μέχρι τοῦ Ἰμάου προῆλθε) τὰ μὲν αὐτὸς τὰ δὲ Δημήτριος ὁ Εὐθυδήμου υἱὸς τοῦ Βακτρίων βασιλέως: οὐ μόνον δὲ τὴν Παταληνὴν κατέσχον ἀλλὰ καὶ τῆς ἄλλης παραλίας τήν τε Σαραόστου καλουμένην καὶ τὴν Σιγέρδιδος βασιλείαν. καθ᾽ ὅλου δέ φησιν ἐκεῖνος τῆς συμπάσης Ἀριανῆς πρόσχημα εἶναι τὴν Βακτριανήν: καὶ δὴ καὶ μέχρι Σηρῶν καὶ Φρυνῶν ἐξέτεινον τὴν ἀρχήν.’ (Strab. Geog. 11.11.1).

‘καὶ μὴν οὐδ᾽ οἱ πολλοῖς χρόνοις ὕστερον συγγράψαντές τι περὶ τούτων, οὐδ᾽ οἱ νῦν πλέοντες ἐκεῖσε, ἀποφαίνονταί τι ἀκριβές. Ἀπολλόδωρος γοῦν ὁ τὰ Παρθικὰ ποιήσας, μεμνημένος καὶ τῶν τὴν Βακτριανὴν ἀποστησάντων Ἑλλήνων παρὰ τῶν Συριακῶν βασιλέων τῶν ἀπὸ Σελεύκου τοῦ

Strabo glosses Apollodorus’ claim with (εἴ γε) ‘if indeed’, suggesting that he doubts Apollodorus’ veracity, and this doubt is perhaps not misplaced if Apollodorus did indeed say that these kings ruled over all the territory up to the Seres (i.e. to China). Moreover, Apollodorus’ remarks, as Strabo presents them, say nothing about the character of Greco-Bactrian incursions into India.

On Apollodorus of Artemita, his dates, and the character of his Parthian history, see Tarn 1997: 44-45. 6 


Richard Wenghofer Conquest need not necessarily imply occupation and the establishment of settlements. Strabo does not note a single Greek settlement in his entire description of India, although his source, Apollodorus of Artemita (c. 130-87 BC), would surely have been aware of such settlements if there were any. Indeed, the well-established cliché in Greek literature that India has never been colonized by outsiders would make little sense if Greeks from Bactria had actually colonized India (cf. Diod. Sic. 2.37).

therefore easily be assigned either to Bactria or to India, although it was clearly heavily influenced by both culturally and linguistically. If Demetrius II was king among the Paropamisadae, as it appears he was, then it is understandable that Justin should have considered him a king among the Indians, especially in light of the knowledge that Seleucus I had ceded this very region to Chandragupta Maurya in 305 BC, and that it was still ruled by the Indian king Sophagesenus when Antiochus III arrived at the end of the 3rd century. As concerns Eucratides’ reacquisition of India after his defeat of Demetrius II, it should be noted that the bulk of his coins too have been found mainly in Bactria and the region around Kabul (i.e. Paropamisus)10 and so it is likely that this was the territory of his reconquista (Narain 2003: 43). In his summary of Book 41 of Pompeius Trogus, Justin notes that ‘the Indian affairs conducted by Apollodotus and Menander, their kings, was added’ (Just. Prolog. 41). But again, if Menander and Apollodotus ruled primarily in the Paropamisus, as Coloru suggests (Coloru 2009: 215), then it is possible that Justin/Trogus was simply in error, as he may well have been for Demetrius II. If this is so, then Justin’s testimony does not contradict that of Strabo, who seems to limit our Indo-Greek kingdoms to the ethnically diverse Bactria and its environs.

Justin provides us with a slightly thornier problem in his Epitome of Pompeius Trogus when he notes that around the same time that Mithridates became king of the Parthians (c. 170-165 BC),7 a certain Eucratides (r. c. 170-145 BC) (Bopearachchi 1991: 66) seized the throne of Bactria and was subsequently besieged by a Demetrius, whom Justin calls rex Indorum. After defeating Demetrius, Eucratides then ‘returned India to his power’ (Indiam in potestatem redegit) (Just. 41.6-15). But Justin’s testimony is not quite as straight forward as it seems at first glance. First, we cannot be certain who this Demetrius is. Osmund Bopearachchi identifies three kings named Demetrius in the numismatic record.8 What is significant for our discussion, however, is not which Demetrius Justin is referring to, but how to interpret his claim that there was a Demetrius who was king of the Indians, and how we are to understand what Justin’s remark that Eucratides I returned India to his power (in potestatem) might be taken to mean. The only Demetrius whose reign overlaps with that of Eucratides I is Demetrius II (c. 175-170 BC) (Bopearachchi 1991: 6566; Grainger 2013: 72-73). Yet this Demetrius minted only unilingual Greek coins on an Attic weight standard (Bopearachchi 1991: 195). Given that his reign seems to have been relatively brief, the fact that he had not minted bilingual coins on the lighter Indian standard is not significant. In any case, the dates ascribed to IndoGreek kings based on their coins is highly speculative. What is significant, however, is the distribution of his coin finds. These are limited exclusively to Bactria (Thompson et al. 1973: 264-265, no. 1826; Bopearachchi 1991: 195), mainly in Kabul and the Paropamisus.

The few scant references to Greek activities in India that are found in Indian literature bear out the picture presented in the Greek sources. The Yuga Purāna, a compilation of oracular predictions written around AD 250,11 makes explicit reference to ‘Yavana’ invasions. The term ‘Yavana’ is said to derive from the Persian term ‘Yona’ used to designate Greeks (Tarn 1997: 416417; Narain 2003: 227-230). John Mitchiner’s translation of the relevant passages suggests a single campaign with no extended occupation. ‘Then, having approached Saketa together with the Pancalas and Mathuras, the Yavanas valiant in battle will reach Kusumadhvaja. Then, once Puspapura has been reached and its celebrated mud walls cast down, all the realms will be in disorder – there is no doubt. And in the city the Yavanas, the princes, will make this people acquainted with them: but the Yavanas, infatuated by war, will not remain in Madhyadesa. There will be disagreement among them to leave, due to a terrible and very dreadful war having broken out in their own realm – there is no doubt. Then, at the disappearance of those Yavanas due to the power of the Yuga, there will be seven mighty kings at Saketa.’ (The Yuga Purāna, 4748; 56-58. Trans. John Mitchiner 1986).

Strabo notes that the region known as the Paropamisus was divided into two, with the southern half belonging to India and the northern half to Bactria (Strab. Geog. 15.2.10). This region was an ethnically and linguistically diverse as is suggested by the copious epigraphic evidence in Greek, Bactrian, Karoshthi, and a number of other unidentified languages (Holt 2012: 131; cf. Fussman 1974: 1-77).9 The Paropamisus cannot

Mitchiner’s translation makes it clear that the Yavanas were forced to withdraw from India owing to civil

On the difficulties inhering in establishing a date for the accession of Mithridates I, see Brodersen 1986: 378-381; Grainger 2013: 72. 8  See Bopearachchi 1991: 49-55 for Demetrius I (c. 200-180 BC), 65-66 for Demetrius II (c. 175-170 BC), and 99 for Demetrius III (c. 100 BC). 9  See Mairs 2011: 38-43 for a summary of the languages found in a variety of inscriptions across Bactria and north-western India. Tarn (1997: 168) considered the Paropamisadae to be mainly Iranian. 7 

Bopearachchi 1991: 199-216, especially Série 17 to 20. See also Thompson et al. 1973: 266, no. 1834. 11  For a discussion of conflicting manuscript traditions for the Yuga Purāna, see Tarn 1997: 452-56; Sircar 1963: 7-20. 10 


Decolonizing the Indo-Greeks

conflict at home. Some have seen in this a corroboration of Justin’s account of the coup of Eucratides in 170/165 BC (Coloru 2009: 224). After the Yavana withdrawal there emerge seven kings in the Ganges plain who are clearly not Yavanas. D.R. Sircar, working with a different manuscript tradition, has a slightly different translation of the same passage, but containing additional lines. The general outline of the events in Sircar’s text is, however, the same. His text notes how the Yavanas occupy the cities of Saketa, Mathura, and Pataliputra along the Ganges, and mentions that these cities would prosper under the protection of Dhamamita, which Sircar translates as ‘Demetrius’:

These cities are said to prosper under the protection of Demetrius (if that indeed is the correct rendering of Dhamamita), but protection need not imply direct rule or colonization. As in Mitchiner’s translation, the Yavanas are forced to withdraw owing to civil conflict at home. The location of the Yavana home is not specified. We are only told that they operated from bases (i.e. camps) in Pancala (i.e. the Ganges-Yamuna doab). After the Yavana withdrawal, the regions that they had temporarily occupied were ruled by seven kings who were not Yavanas. Thus both translations appear to describe a campaign, or series of campaigns, along the Ganges but nothing more. The picture painted by these few precious references in the Yuga Purāna thus suggests that Greek gains in India were ephemeral, an image that is not at odds with the Greek sources. Finally, the term ‘Yavana’ is itself problematic since by AD 250 the term was often used collectively of all people to the west of India (i.e. Bactrians, Persians, Greeks, Arabs, etc.) (see Kartunen 1997: 316). Its precise ethnic content in the Yuga Purāna is therefore uncertain and might not refer to Greeks at all.

‘Then, having occupied [the city] of Saketa, [the country of] Pancala and [the city of] Mathura (or having occupied [the cities] Saketa and Mathura from [their bases in] Pancala), the viciously valiant Yavanas will reach (or seize) Kusumadhvaja. Then, when the occupied [city of] Puspapura will be set in extended mud (i.e. spread out mud walls) (or, when the stretched out mud walls at Puspapura will be reached or occupied), all the provinces [of the Mauryan Empire having its capital at Puspapura] will be undoubtedly in [complete disorder]…’

But while there is no concrete literary evidence for extensive Greco-Bactrian occupation of India, there is some positive literary evidence, both Indian and Greek, to suggest that Greek occupation was limited to Bactria and its immediate environs. In an often overlooked passage in Plutarch’s Precepts of Statecraft, Menander is described as a king of the Bactrians, with no mention of India whatsoever:

‘… Prospering under the protection of Dhamamita (Demetrius), the Yavanas will eat up (i.e. oppress) the people and will burn alive the five rulers at Nagara (i.e. Pataliputra). The Yavanas, fierce in fight, will not stay in Madhyadesa. As the result of mutual [ill] feelings [developing] amongst them, there will no doubt be an extremely terrible [and] fierce war arising in their own realm.’

‘But when a certain Menander who had ruled well among the Bactrians then died while in camp, the cities otherwise conducted his funeral according to common custom, but falling into a struggle concerning his remains, they scarcely came to an agreement to depart after having given out an equal portion of his ashes and that memorials to the man be created in every city.’

‘Then, the disappearance of the said Yavanas resulting under the influence of the age (i.e. time, or under the evil effects of the Kali age), there will be seven mighty kings at Saketa.’ (Trans. D.R. Sircar, 1963). The word ‘Dhamamita,’ which appears in two of four manuscripts, is gibberish in Sanskrit, leading Sircar (1963: 13), following W.W. Tarn (1997: 454-455) to conclude that it must be a transliteration of ‘Demetrius’, a possibility that must of course stand, given the lack of viable alternatives and in light of Justin’s reference to a Demetrius who was rex Indorum. However, A.K. Narain has convincingly argued against the identification of Dhamamita with ‘Demetrius’, noting a variety of alternative readings (Narain 2003: 48-49). The only example of a transliteration of the name Demetrius is found on the coins of Demetrius III (fl. c. 100 BC) (Bopearachchi 1991: 99), whose name is rendered in Karoshthi as ‘Demetriyasa’ (cf. Bopearachchi 1991: 287), not Dhamamita. In any case, Sircar’s reading does not change much. The Yavanas occupy Saketa, Mathura, and Pataliputra, but we are not told for how long.

‘Μενάνδρου δέ τινος ἐν Βάκτροις ἐπιεικῶς βασιλεύσαντος εἶτ᾽ ἀποθανόντος ἐπὶ στρατοπέδου, τὴν μὲν ἄλλην ἐποιήσαντο κηδείαν κατὰ τὸ κοινὸν αἱ πόλεις, περὶ δὲ τῶν λειψάνων αὐτοῦ καταστάντες εἰς ἀγῶνα μόλις συνέβησαν, ὥστε νειμάμενοι μέρος ἴσον τῆς τέφρας ἀπελθεῖν, καὶ γενέσθαι μνημεῖα παρὰ πᾶσι τάνδρός.’ (Plut. Praecepta Gerendae Reipublicae, 821. d-e). Menander is thought to have been the greatest of the Indo-Greek kings whose rule in India was more extensive geographically and chronologically than any other (Grainger 2013: 74-55), yet Plutarch says that he ruled among the Bactrians, saying nothing of India. One of the most widely cited pieces of evidence for Menander’s extensive rule in India is the Milindapanha 129

Richard Wenghofer or Song of Menander. This text, usually dated to about 100 BC, is a dialogue between the Buddhist sage Nagasena and a certain wise king Milinda over questions of spirituality, and it is universally agreed that ‘Milinda’ is a Pali transliteration of ‘Menander.’ The poem notes:

487). While the Greco-Bactrian incursions into India did occur under the auspices of the Euthydemid dynasty, they did not take place under a Euthydemus, but under a Demetrius. We should therefore expect Sagala to have been called ‘Demetrias,’ not ‘Euthydemia.’ In any case, as we have already noted, the Yuga Purāna suggests a brief foray against Sunga India and nothing more. Sagala is often thought to be a Greek city because of the reference to these Yonakas accompanying Milindha, a dubious assumption as we have just noted. The Milindapanha does not mention the ethnic make-up of Sagala. It is simply described as a richly adorned center of trade occupied by peoples belonging to a variety of religious sects (cf. Milindapanha 1.2).

‘Of the two the novice became the king of the city of Sâgala in India, Milinda by name, learned, eloquent, wise, and able; and a faithful observer, and that at the right time, of all the various acts of devotion and ceremony enjoined by his own sacred hymns concerning things past, present, and to come… So king Milinda, attended by the five hundred Yonakas, mounted the royal car with its splendid equipage, and went out to the dwelling-place of Pûrana Kassapa, exchanged with him the compliments of friendly greeting, and took his seat courteously apart.’ (Milindapanha 1.9-11, Trans. R. Davis, 1890).

As to the origins of Menander himself, the Milindapanha seems to confirm the testimony of Plutarch which places him in the environs of Bactria. Milindapanha 7.4 notes that Milinda was born in Alasanda, which he says is located 200 leagues away from Sagala.

Tarn argued that king Milinda and the Indo-Greek Menander were one and the same person and this identification has not been questioned (Tarn 1997: 414; Bopearachchi 1991: 77-78; Coloru 2009: 243; Mairs 2011: 12; Grainger 2013: 73). But Menander’s bilingual coins translate his name as Menandrasa, not Milinda (Bopearachchi 1991: 226-247). Milinda is accompanied by five hundred ‘Yonakas’ who Tarn believes to be Greeks based on a reference in Claudius Ptolemaeus 6.4.2 to an ‘Ionika’ polis in Persis. According to Tarn, Ionika ‘existed at this time in the current Hellenistic Greek of the further East,’ and argued that the Pali ‘Yonaka’ was derived from it (Tarn 1997: 418), basing his claim upon a single Karoshthi inscription in India (Nasik Inscription 18), in which a wealthy merchant refers to himself as a ‘Yonaka’. This led Tarn (1997: 257) to argue that ‘he knows enough of the Greek of his day to describe himself, not by the usual Indian term Yavana, but by the current Hellenistic form Yonaka.’ But this is circular reasoning. Tarn supports his claim that Ptolemy’s use of Ionika was current in the Hellenistic Far East by referencing the Nasik cave inscription and then later supports his claim that the Nasik inscription conforms to Hellenistic usage by referencing the passage from Ptolemy! We are thus no nearer to knowing the meaning of the term ‘Yonaka’, which may or may not be the Pali word for Greek. More significantly, the author of the Milindapanha does not say that Milinda was himself a Yonaka – only that he was accompanied by Yonakas, whoever these might be.

‘The Elder replied: “In what district, O king, were you born?” “There is an island called Alasanda. It was there I was born.” “And how far is Alasanda from here?” “About two hundred leagues.”’ (Milindapanha 7.4. Trans. R. Davis, 1890). Based on this vague orientation Menander’s birthplace is typically identified with Alexandria in the Caucasus (medieval Kapisa and modern Begram in Afghanistan) and Sagala is placed 200 leagues to the east in modern Pakistan (Tarn 1997: 420; Narain 2003: 103; Coloru 2009: 243). But the text does not give any orientation. Two hundred leagues in which direction? Moreover, the identification of Alasanda with Begram is unlikely given that Milindha tells us that Alasanda is an island. But even if we concede to these conjectures, this again places Menander’s origins in Bactria as per Plutarch. The Milindapanha thus does not provide any evidence at all for Greek rule or colonization in India and says nothing about Milinda’s ethnic identity nor that of the five hundred Yonakas. But if the literary evidence militates against the notion of extensive Greek settlement in India and limits the political geography of the Indo-Greek kingdoms to the environs of Bactria and the Paropamisus, archaeology appears to confirm this conclusion. In a recent survey of Hellenistic settlements in the Far East, Getzel Cohen has identified 33 sites in India, the majority of which are foundations or re-foundations ascribed to Alexander (Cohen 2013: 291-331). The ethnic identity of the settlers for these foundations is rarely indicated. Of the 33 sites Cohen identifies, only two are known locations. These are Taxila and Pushkalavati (Charsada), both in Pakistan and both close to the Afghan border. Neither site has yielded anything that could serve as evidence for a Greek presence (Cohen 2013: 326), a surprising fact

Then there is the issue of the city where Milinda is king, the city of Sagala, the modern Pakistani city of Sialkot. Claudius Ptolemaeus 6.1.46 refers to Sagala as ‘Sagala which is also Euthydemia’ (Σάγαλα ἡ καὶ Εὐθυμηδία), although Tarn himself, who sees Ptolemy as authoritative (Tarn 1997: 247), does acknowledge that the manuscript tradition is corrupt, noting that other readings have been suggested (Tarn 1997: 486130

Decolonizing the Indo-Greeks

if, as Tarn and others have opined, Taxila is thought to have been the capital of a number of Indo-Greek kings (Tarn 1997: 137, 179; Dani 1986: 64; Grainger 2013: 71).

Hellenistic settlement at Taxila’, and Dani (1986: 95) observes that objects found in the ‘Greek layer’ at Sirkap are mostly local products with a few Greek or Greek imitation objects and are ‘a poor representation of Greek cultural life’.

John Marshall conducted extensive excavations at Taxila and declared the 3rd-/2nd-century BC remains at Sirkap ‘a Greek layer’ on the basis of an apparent urban grid plan (Wheeler 1968: 133; Marshall 1951: 113; Dani 1986: 89-92; Cohen 2013: 325), the influence of Greek architectural styles on some Taxilan temple complexes, and, of course, the discovery of Indo-Greek coins. The ‘Jandial Temple’ has garnered particular interest. Dar (1980: 94) notes that this temple contains all ‘the characteristics of a Greek peripteral temple’, the most obvious being the incorporation of ionic columns into the temple design (Plate 1).

Another seemingly important site is Pushkalavati (ancient Peukelaotis). This site does indeed appear in ancient sources and it has been suggested that it was founded by the Indo-Greek king Menander around 150 BC (Cohen 2013: 323). Pushkalavati, like Taxila, appears to have been laid out on a grid plan and has yielded three separate hoards of Indo-Greek coins (Cohen 2013: 322-323). The numismatic evidence and the ancient name (Peukelaotis), seemingly derived from the Macedonian name ‘Peukelaos’, led Tarn to conclude that Pushkalavati was a ‘Greek polis’. A certain king Peukelaos is indeed attested in the IndoGreek coinage (Tarn 1977: 136). But his importance as an eponymous king is belied by the paucity of his coins in the hoards found around Pushkalavati (Thompson et al.: nos. 1851, 1853) and Tarn himself admitted the possibility that the name ‘Peukelaotis’ was simply an attempt by Greek writers to Hellenize the Indian name of Pushkalavati (Tarn 1977: 245). Nor is the presence of the coins conclusive evidence of Greek settlement. Such coins could have arrived in the purses of mercenaries or merchants. The author of the Periplus Maris Erythraei observes that coins of Menander I and Apollodotus I (r. c. 180-160 BC) (Bopearachchi 1991: 62) were circulating in Barygaza in about 40 AD,12 although neither of these kings are believed to have ruled there and both were long dead by this point.

Plate 1. Ionic Column, Jandial Temple, Taxila (Livius: taxila/jandial4.JPG).

A seemingly more promising piece of evidence is the Brahmi ‘Reh Inscription’ found on a pillar from central India dated to about 150 BC. The inscription refers to a Menander, who is described as King of Kings, and a savior who is victorious and invincible. It reads ‘Of the King of Kings, Great Savior, Just, Victorious, and Invincible Menander’ (Sharma 1980). But Frank Holt (2000: 497-498), following Wojtilla, argues that the name Menander is a dubious reconstruction of the damaged inscription and that the pillar and its inscription might well date to a post-Greek period. Menander is also attested on the Bajaur Casket. This sarcophagus, dated to about 150 BC, bears a Brahmi inscription with the date ‘In the reign of King Menander, on the fourteenth day of Karttika…’ (Majumdar 1999: 177). But Bajaur lies right along the border with Afghanistan and could be just as easily allocated to the environs of Bactria, and to the Paropamisus in particular, once again corroborating Plutarch’s claim that Menander was a king of Bactria, not India. The most tantalizing material evidence for Greek rule in India appears on the Heliodorus Pillar in Madhya Pradesh in central India. The Pillar, dating

Similarly, the ‘Double-Headed Eagle Stupa’ shrine contains Corinthian columns (Plate 2) carved in relief into the temple wall, again suggesting a Greek inspiration.

Plate 2. Double-Headed Eagle Stupa, Taxila (Livius: sirkap13_d_headed_eagle.jpg).

But as Cohen (2013: 326) notes, while these temple designs might reflect Hellenistic influence on architectural design, it is not evidence for an ‘organized,



Periplus Maris Erythraei: 47.5-10.

Richard Wenghofer to about 115 BC, records a dedication to Vishnu by a certain Heliodorus, son of Dion from Taxila, who has come to make a dedication in his capacity as ambassador of king Antialcidas (r. c. 115-95 BC), a king who is indeed attested numismatically (Bopearachchi 1991: 95-97):

and circulation of the bilingual Indo-Greek coinage must be understood. The first kings to have minted bilingual coins are Pantaleon (r. c. 190-185 BC) and Agathocles (r. c. 190180 BC), who, according to Bopaerachchi, ruled jointly (Bopearachchi 1991: 58). They are also the first to have adopted the square shape typical of earlier Indian specie (See Plates 3 and 4), leading Bopearachchi and others to conclude that they ruled in the Indus Basin in the region around Taxila (Bopearachchi 1991: 57-58; Grainger 2013: 71).

‘This Garuda Pillar of Vasudeva, the god of gods, was commissioned by Heliodorus, son of Dion from Taxila, a worshipper of Vishnu who came as the Greek (Yona) ambassador from the court of Antialcidas, the Great King, to Bhagabhadra, Son of Kosi, who was then in the fourteenth year of his prosperous reign.’13 The inscription has been taken as evidence that Antialcidas ruled at Taxila (Tarn 1997: 313; Dani 1986: 64; Bopearachchi 1991: 96). But the inscription does not say that Antialcidas ruled there. It only says that Dion hailed from there. Only 17 of Antialcidas’ coins have been found at Taxila, with the majority coming from Begram (Bopearachchi 1991: 96), which would again seem to limit his reign to the Paropamisus and the environs of southern Bactria. Note also that the Prakrit word for Greek is Yona, not Yonaka as per Tarn. Nor can we be sure what is meant by Yona.

Plate 3. Bronze Karshapana of Pantaleon with bilingual Greek/Karoshthi inscription (Coinindia:

The literary and archaeological evidence thus suggest that our Indo-Greek kings are best described as GrecoBactrian kings whose reign was limited to Bactria and the Paropamisus and who made periodic forays into India proper. This picture appears to be confirmed by the numismatic evidence. The majority of GrecoBactrian and Indo-Greek coins come from Qunduz, Ai Khanoum, Mir Zakah, Kabul, Begram, and Ghazni.14 Out of 57 known Indo-Greek coin hoards, half of the coins come from just two locations in Bactria, Qunduz and Ai Khanoum (Holt 2012: 136). By comparison, the Greek layer at Taxila has yielded around 1,500 or so coins – but 1,440 of these are Indian (Thompson: nos. 1831-1833). Why, then, is this a ‘Greek layer’? After all, thousands of Indian punch mark coins have been found at Ai Khanoum in Bactria, along with numerous other objects of apparent Indian origin (Holt 2012: 128), yet Ai Khanoum is considered a ‘Greco-Bactrian’ city, not an ‘Indo-Bactrian’ one. In any case, the distribution of the bulk of Indo-Greek coin finds could thus be taken as further corroboration of the view that the rule of the Indo-Greek kings was limited to Bactria and the Paropamisus. Moreover, the presence of Indian and Greek coins in the same hoards at both Ai Khanoum and Taxila would seem to suggest that both types were used simultaneously between Bactria and India, thus indicating the presence of a cultural koine expressed, in this case, in hard specie. It is in the context of such a cultural koine that the production 13  14 

Plate 4. Bronze karshapana of Agathocles with bilingual Greek/Karoshthi inscription (Coinindia:

Apollodotus I succeeded Pantaleon and Agathocles in about 180 BC and continued to mint Indian-style bilingual coins, but was the first Indo-Greek king to have abandoned the Attic standard for the lighter Indian standard (see Plate 5), leading Bopearachchi and others to conclude that these kings must then have ruled in India in the environs of the Indus valley, based on the coins’ apparent Indian characteristics (Bopearachchi 1991: 62; Grainger 2013: 71). But the majority of the coins of Pantaleon and Agathocles have been found at Ai Khanoum, with many others coming from either Kabul or Mir Zakah (Thompson 1973: nos. 1822, 1823, 1826; Bopearachchi 1991: 172-182), while the overwhelming majority of Apollodotus’ coins come from Mir Zakah, Kabul, and

Sircar 1965. From Holt 1999: 177. Cf. Bopearachchi 1991: passim.


Decolonizing the Indo-Greeks

moved into the area as a result. Aśoka thus published his Thirteenth Rock Edict in Kandahar in Greek, Aramaic and Karoshthi. More recently Paul Bernard et al. (2004: 227-356) have published the discovery at Kandahar of a stele dating to the mid 2nd century BC containing an acrostic epigram written in Greek by a certain Sophytos, son of Naratos, neither of which are Greek names. At Ai Khanoum, numerous items of Indian provenance have been found, and although Frank Holt (2012: 102) has suggested that these objects might have found their way to Ai Khanoum as plunder, it also possible that they came via trade or were produced by Indian residents in Bactria. For India proper such evidence is largely lacking, but what little there is suggests a similar ethnocultural milieu. A Hellenistic stone stamp purchased in Peshawar contains a Prakrit inscription bearing a Greek name ‘Philaxius’ with a Persian patronymic ‘Ochus’ (Holt 2012: 118; cf. Humbach 1976: 15-17). In Taxila, John Marshall discovered five silver bowls each bearing a Karoshthi inscription which reads, ‘Of Theodorus, son of Thevara’ (Dani 1986: 102), a Greek name with an Indian patronymic. Thus even the ethnicity of the Indo-Greek kings themselves, all of whom bear Greek and Macedonian names, must remain an open question. Robert Senior has recently discovered a coin of the Indo-Greek king Artemidorus (r. c. 85-80 BC) who, in the Karoshthi (although not the Greek) legend is declared ‘son of Maues’, a Scythian king who is known to have ruled in western India in the early 1st century BC,16 providing yet another example of a Greek name with a non-Greek patronymic. Bactria, Arachosia, the Paropamisus and north-western India thus appear to have shared a common cultural environment shaped by the two major powers in the immediate vicinity – the Indian Sungas to the east and the Greco-Bactrian kings to the west.

Plate 5. Indian standard drachm of Apollodotus I with bilingual Greek/Karoshthi legend (Coinindia:

Balkh, all in Bactria (Bopearachchi 1991: 188-194).15 Around 191 coins of Apollodotus I are ascribed in hoard catalogues to India, but 172 of these are actually from the border regions of Bajuar and Hazara (Thompson 1973: nos. 1842, 1845, 1846), which could be taken to mean that Apollodotus I likewise reigned mainly in the environs of Bactria and the Paropamisus. While there are literally thousands of Indo-Greek coins found throughout India, fewer than a hundred have turned up further west and most of the latter are confined to hoards in Susiana and Media and none are later than Heliocles I (r. c. 145-130 BC) (cf. Thompson 1973: nos. 1803, 1804, 1805, 1806, 1809, 1813). It is also perhaps significant that of all the Greco-Bactrian kings whose coins are found in hoards further west, only one of those kings, Eucratides I, minted bilingual coins. The overwhelming majority of bilingual coins thus circulated mainly in the environs of southern Bactria and eastwards to Pakistan and India, following, as we might expect, the major mountain passes and river trade routes. We might therefore imagine a polyglot region that was culturally, economically, and to some extent politically intertwined, and where two main economic, political, and therefore cultural, influences – the Indian and the Greek – predominated, forming a sort of political/cultural koine.

It is perhaps, therefore, inappropriate to see IndoGreek coins as evidence for the conquest, settlement, and Hellenization of north-western India by Greeks from Bactria. Scholars working in other areas of the Hellenistic world have already begun to grapple with the fluidity of culture and the difficulty in ascribing meaning behind a variety of forms of cultural appropriation (cf. Strootman 2013). Heather Baker (2013: 62), in particular, notes how local Babylonian elites integrated Greco-Macedonian and Babylonian burial customs, employed bilingual Greek-Aramaic inscriptions in a variety of public documents, and employed Greek artistic designs to decorate Babylonian temples bearing otherwise indigenous temple architecture, all in order to depict themselves as local rulers with close ties to the Seleucid court.

These bilingual/bicultural Indo-Greek coins do not, on their own, tell us much about the ethnicity of those who minted or used them. Frank Holt notes that the epigraphic evidence for Bactria suggests a civilization that is far more ethnically and linguistically diverse than is suggested by the Greco-Bactrian coins (Holt 2012: ch. 6). Likewise, the non-numismatic evidence strongly suggests that the Paropamisus, Arachosia, and southern Bactria were ethnically diverse and highly polyglot as well. As we have noted above, the Paropamisus, Arachosia, and Areia were ceded to Chandragupta Maurya under the Indus Treaty, and we can only assume Indian settlers Grainger 2013: 71 mistakenly notes that Apollodotus’ coins ‘are not found in Bactria itself ’.

Coinindia: (last accessed April 2015).




Richard Wenghofer For the kingdoms based in southern Bactria and the Paropamisus, there were two major powers on their borders, which no doubt wished to extend their influence, if not control, into this very region. Local rulers south of the Hindu-Kush, whose dominions lay astride the major routes of trade and communication between two major powers, no doubt intermarried with dynasties in both directions and advertised both their Indian and their Greco-Macedonian connections on their coins. This hypothesis finds support not only in the aforementioned parallels elsewhere in the Hellenistic world, but also in the coins of the Scythian kings who succeeded the Indo-Greek kings toward the end of the 1st century BC. These kings minted coins with bilingual Greek-Karoshthi legends, even though they were neither Indian nor Greek.

The coins of the Indo-Scythian king Maues (r. c. 90-60 BC), for example, bear a Greek/Karoshthi legend with a sceptered Zeus on the obverse and a winged Nike on the reverse (see Plate 6). These Scythian kings kept their Scythian names. In India and the Paropamisus we have

Plate 6. Silver Tetradrachm of Maues (c. 90-60 BC) (Coinindia:

Figure 1: Map of the Indo-Greek Kingdoms (Ancient History Encyclopedia:


Decolonizing the Indo-Greeks

already noted epigraphic evidence for Indians bearing Greek names, a practice not uncommon elsewhere in the Hellenistic world,17 and so we cannot make any assumptions as to the ethnicity of the kings whose names appear on the Indo-Greek coinage. At least one of those kings it seems, Artemidorus, was possibly Scythian.

Dar, S.R. 1980. A Fresh Study of Four Unique Temples at Takshasila (Taxila). Journal of Central Asia 3(1): 91137. Fussman, G. 1974. Documents épigraphiques kouchans. Bulletin de l’École Française d’Extrême-Orient 61: 1-77. Grainger, J.D. 1997. A Seleukid Prosopography and Gazetteer. Leiden. Grainger, J.D. 2013. Rome, Parthia & India: The Violent Emergence of a New World Order 150-140 BC. Barnsley. Holt, F. 1999. Thundering Zeus: The Making of Hellenistic Bactria. Berkeley. Holt, F. 2012. The Lost World of the Golden King: In Search of Ancient Afghanistan. Berkeley. Humbach, H. 1976. Eine griechische Inschrift aus Pakistan. Gutenberg Jahrbuch: 15-17. Jakobsson, J. 2009. Who Founded the Indo-Greek Era of 186/5 BC? Classical Quarterly 59(2): 505-510. Kartunen, K. 1997. India and the Hellenistic World. Helsinki. Kosmin, P. 2014. The Land of the Elephant Kings: Space, Territory, and Ideology in the Seleucid Empire. Cambridge, MA. Mairs, R. 2006. Ethnic Identity in the Hellenistic Far East (dissertation). Cambridge. Mairs, R. 2011. The Archaeological Survey of the Hellenistic Far East. British Archaeological Reports International Series 2196. Oxford. Majumdar, N.G. (trans.) 1937. The Bajaur Casket of the Reign of Menander. Epigraphica Indica 24: 1-8. Marshall, J. 1951. Taxila, vol. 1. Cambridge. Mitchiner, J. (trans.) 1986. Yuga Purāna. Critically edited, with an English Translation and a detailed Introduction: 47-8, 56-8. Calcutta. Narain, A.K. 1965. Alexander and India. Greece and Rome 12(2): 155-165. Narain, A.K. 2003. The Indo-Greeks Revisited and Supplemented. New Delhi. Plischke, S. 2014. Die Seleukiden und Iran: Die seleukidische Herrschaftspolitik in den östlichen Satrapien. Wiesbaden. Schlumberger, D., Robert, L., Dupont-Sommer, A. and Benveniste, A. 1958. Une bilingue gréco-araméenne d’Asoka. JA 246: 1-48. Sharma, G.R. 1980. Reh Inscription of Menander and the Indo-Greek Invasion of the Ganga Valley. Allahabad. Sherwin-White, A. and Kuhrt, A. 1993. From Samarkhand to Sardis: A New Approach to the Seleucid Empire. Berkeley. Sidky, H. 2000. The Greek Kingdom of Bactria: From Alexander to Eucratides the Great. Lanham. Sircar, D.R. (ed.) 1965. Select Inscriptions Bearing on Indian History and Civilization (2nd edn). Calcutta. Sircar, D.R. 1963. The Account of the Yavanas in the ‘Yuga-Purāna’. Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 1(2): 7-20. Strootman, R. 2013. Babylonian, Macedonian, King of the World: The Antiochus Cylinder from Borsippa and Seleukid Imperial Integration, in E. Stavrianopoulou

Indian and Greek language and culture were thus the language and culture of the Indo-Greek ruling elite regardless of their local ethnic identities. The cultural orientation of the kingdoms south of the HinduKush was Janus-like, facing both east and west, thus mirroring their economic and political orientations. So much is suggested by the description of a temple in Taxila in Philostratus’ Life of Apollonius of Tyana. This temple is said to contain bronze pictures depicting the exploits of both Alexander and Porus, both of whom appear to have been revered figures in Taxila: ‘For bronze tablets were fastened upon the wall, and on each one was engraved the deeds of Porus and Alexander’ (Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, 2.20). This image nicely encapsulates the political, economic, and cultural position of the Indo-Greek kingdoms south of the Hindu-Kush range, caught between and entangled with major hegemonic powers to the east and west. Their brilliant coinage must be seen as an attempt on the part of this ethnically diverse and polyglot ruling elite to mediate this ethnic diversity, and in so doing to vouchsafe their own political autonomy. Unfortunately, at this point a detailed history of the Indo-Greek kingdoms cannot be written owing to the state of the evidence. But if such a narrative should ever become possible, the first step in composing such a history must surely begin with a decolonization of the evidence itself. Bibliography Baker, H. 2013. The Image of the City in Hellenistic Babylonia, in E. Stavrianopoulou (ed.) Shifting Social Imaginaries in the Hellenistic World: 51-65. Leiden. Bernard, P., Pinault, G.-J. and Rougemont, G. 2004. Deux nouvelles inscriptions grecques de l’Asie centrale. Journal des Savants: 227-356. Bopearachchi, O. 1991. Monnaies Gréco-Bactriennes et Indo-Grecques. Paris. Brodersen, K. 1986. The Date of the Secession of Parthia from the Seleucid Kingdom. Historia 35(3): 378-381. Cohen, G.M. 2013. The Hellenistic Settlements in the East from Armenia and Mesopotamia to Bactria and India. Berkeley. Coloru, O. 2009. Da Alessandro a Menandro: Il Regno Greco Di Battriana. Pisa. Dani, A.H. 1986. The Historic City of Taxila. Paris. From these numerous cases, see e.g. Grainger 1997: 88 for a Dionysius ‘the Mede’, who held control of Mesopotamia for the Seleucid king Demetrius II, and p. 135 for Alexandros, son of Ina-qibit-Anu. 17 


Richard Wenghofer (ed.) Shifting Social Imaginaries in the Hellenistic World: 67-97. Leiden. Tarn, W.W. 1997. The Greeks in Bactria and India (revised 3rd edn). Chicago. Thapar, R. 2002. The Penguin History of Early India from the Origins to AD 1300. London. Thompson, M., Mørkholm, O. and Kraay, C.M. (eds) 1973. An Inventory of Greek Coin Hoards. New York.

von Hinüber, O. 2010. Did Hellenistic Kings Send Letters to Aśoka? Journal of the American Oriental Society 130(2): 261-266. Wheeler, M. 1968. Flames over Persepolis. New York. Wojtilla, G. 2000. Did the Indo-Greeks Occupy Pataliputra? Acta Archaeologica Academiae Scientarum Hungaricae 40: 495-504.


Entre perte d’autonomie, acculturation et intégration : les incolae de la colonie romaine de Dion Julien Demaille*

La colonie de Dion a été fondée par Quintus Hortensius Hortalus, sur les ordres de César ou de Brutus, en 4443 a.C., sur la plaine de Piérie, en Basse Macédoine, au pied du Mont Olympe (Kremydi-Sicilianou 1998/1999: 61-76). C’est une colonie de peuplement dont l’objectif est d’attribuer des terres à des vétérans des guerres civiles, à des citoyens pauvres, ainsi qu’à des Italiens victimes de spoliations (Demaille 2018). Dion, comme les autres colonies d’époque césaro-augustéenne, a vu son territoire s’agrandir de manière très importante. Son territorium s’est, dès lors, étendu à la quasi totalité de la plaine de Piérie, tandis qu’à l’époque macédonienne, la limite de la chôra ne devait pas dépasser le fleuve Mavroneri (Stephanidou 1998: 25-30).1 La limite Sud du territoire est constituée par le fleuve Pénée, la frontière Nord par l’Haliacmon. À l’ouest, la ligne de crête des Monts Piériens constitue la limite avec l’Élimiotide au Sud et la Bottiée au Nord. Ces frontières peuvent être établies avec quelque certitude par la présence in situ de deux bornes et par la présence de citoyens romains sur les inscriptions du territoire (Cf. fig. 2).2 Rome n’a pas choisi au hasard les cités macédoniennes qu’elle comptait réduire en colonies  : Pella est une ancienne capitale royale du royaume antigonide, Philippes une fondation de Philippe V située sur la via Egnatia, Cassandreia une fondation de Cassandre. Dion était, en quelque sorte, la ville sacrée du royaume de Macédoine, célèbre pour son sanctuaire de Zeus Olympien et ses Olympia, panégyries en l’honneur de Zeus Olympios et des Muses (Mari 1998: 137-169). Le choix de ces sites macédoniens pour y fonder des colonies ne pouvait être anodin. La décision d’établir une colonie romaine était associée à la présence de terres disponibles  : autour des ces villes liées à la monarchie macédonienne, se trouvaient des terres royales qui ont été transformées en ager publicus à la suite de la défaite de Persée à Pydna. Les Romains ont naturellement utilisé ces terres étatiques pour distribuer des terres aux colons. Institut des Sciences et Techniques de l’Antiquité (Besançon), Université Paris Sciences et Lettres. 1  Sur le territoire de Dion et la plaine de Piérie, cf.  Vasileiadou 2011: 25-41. 2  Sur le territoire de Dion, voir également, Demaille 2016: 93-117. *

Ces derniers ont pris les commandes de la cité, instaurant le droit et les institutions romaines municipales. Rome a même accordé le ius Italicum aux colonies macédoniennes.3 La fondation de la colonie, ou deductio, entraîne la confiscation d’une partie des terres des anciens habitants. Cette violence est soulignée par Siculus Flaccus  : ‘Les citoyens furent terrifiés (territi) et furent chassés [de leurs terres], et l’on donna à ces lieux le nom de territoires (territoria).’4 Siculus fait correspondre l’étymologie de ‘territoire’ avec la cruauté des spoliations, de même que Frontin : ‘Le territoire est ce qui a été constitué pour causer la terreur chez l’ennemi’.5 Le mot territorium est en relation avec la conquête et reflète l’idée de sujétion (Peyras 2004: 89). La colonisation déclasse socialement les anciens habitants. Ceux-ci, naguère citoyens, deviennent de simples incolae privés du droit de cité. Les natifs grecs perdent leur identité politique au point de devenir de simples étrangers résidant dans une cité dont les rouages administratifs et politiques leur échappent désormais. Dans ce contexte, les résistances à la colonisation ont existé, mais ont été, somme toute, assez limitées et surtout inefficaces (Brunt 1971: 253254). Seule une poignée de Grecs, les membres de l’élite locale, acquièrent la civitas au moment de la deductio car la politique romaine vise à contrôler les élites pour mieux dominer le reste de la société. La permanence de la résidence des Grecs à l’intérieur des frontières de la colonie soulève le problème du statut juridique de ces incolae qui ont perdu une grande partie de leurs droits civiques mais qui ont continué à jouer un rôle social dans la cité, jusqu’à leur intégration massive dans le corps des citoyens à la suite de la Constitutio Antoniniana. La présence des pérégrins dans la société coloniale romaine pose également la question des acculturations réciproques mises en œuvre durant les trois premiers siècles de l’Empire. L’analyse des inscriptions du territoire de Dion, à travers le prisme de l’onomastique Paul, Dig., L, 15, 8, 8 : in provincia Macedonia Dyrracheni, Cassandrenses, Philippenses, Dienses, Stobenses iuris Italici sunt. Stobi, municipe nommé au même rang que les autres colonies de Macédoine, n’a été élevé au statut de colonie qu’au IIIe siècle p.C., cf. Collart 1937: 230, n. 3. Jones 1940: n. 72, dresse la liste des colonies orientales qui jouissent du ius Italicum. 4  Trad. Clavel-Lévêque et al. 1993: 26 [Th. 101]. 5  Trad. Behrends et al. 1998: 53 [Th. 8]. 3 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 137–147

Julien Demaille de cette population résidente, permet de mieux comprendre les évolutions d’une société composite résultant de la politique impériale de colonisation en Macédoine.

Les incolae pouvaient posséder les terres qu’ils cultivaient, mais ces terres n’étaient pas nécessairement celles qu’ils détenaient avant la deductio, en raison de l’expropriation et de la confiscation de leurs domaines, processus qui prépare l’installation des colons. Les incolae étaient dédommagés11 et dans certains cas, leurs terres pouvaient être échangées contre d’autres.12 Le nouveau finage colonial est donc composé ‘non seulement des terres divisées et assignées aux colons (intra clausum), mais aussi d’autres terres qui n’ont pas de limitatio (extra clausum)’ 13 et sur lesquelles sont installés les incolae. Ces derniers ne peuvent normalement pas avoir de propriété dans la pertica. En réalité, ‘dans les grands territoires coloniaux, les rapports de propriété sont souvent un peu compliqués. La terre des colons, exemptée de tribut, est très densément entremêlée – comme le montrent les plans d’Orange et les inventaires de cités ibériques – de terres soumises à l’impôt de la colonie’.14 Les incolae pouvaient être domiciliés indifféremment dans la cité proprement dite ou dans une bourgade de son territoire (Thomas 1996: 43). En tout cas, le statut de la terre est primordial car la possession d’une terre devait souvent servir à fixer la condition sociale du résident (Thomas 1996: 40).

Le statut des incolae6 D’après le Digeste, les incolae sont les étrangers domiciliés. La Lex Ursoniensis précise que les incolae sont les personnes qui ont un domicile à l’intérieur des frontières de la colonie et qui ne sont pas des colons.7 Il s’agit, à n’en pas douter, de cette catégorie d’habitants du territoire colonial qui étaient citoyens de leur cité avant la deductio mais qui n’ont pas obtenu le bénéfice de la citoyenneté romaine au moment de la colonisation. Ils ont continué à vivre à côté des colons après avoir abandonné une partie de leurs biens (Brunt 1971: 246). Ils se sont donc retrouvés dans la situation juridique d’étrangers puisqu’en tant que pérégrins, ils n’entraient pas dans le corps civique de la colonie. Selon la loi d’Urso, on compte quatre catégories statutaires différentes dans les colonies romaines  : les colons, les incolae, les invités et les visiteurs.8 Il faut donc ‘identifier les incolae à l’ensemble des populations libres sans droits politiques, à savoir les étrangers domiciliés et la population autochtone de la colonie’, ainsi que l’affirme A.D. Rizakis (1998: 603), et non à une seule catégorie d’habitants. Il est donc possible de définir le terme par la négative : est incola tout résident permanent d’une colonie et qui n’est pas citoyen. Les coloni et incolae sont donc ceux qui vivent dans la colonia. Ces trois termes sont formés sur la même racine issue du verbe colere, terme qu’Hygin met en relation avec la culture de la terre.9 Les incolae possédaient le droit de résidence, de propriété foncière et immobilière (domicilium praediumve), droits qui n’étaient accordés aux étrangers que par décret public. La concession du ius incolatus donnait aux anciens habitants des droits supérieurs aux autres pérégrins de l’empire (Rizakis 1998: 610).10 Les incolae devaient payer des impôts à la colonie, tandis que les autres peregrini de l’empire les payaient à Rome (Rizakis 1998: 613).

Si au niveau politique, les coloni et les incolae sont inégaux, au niveau pénal, la loi municipale ne fait pas tant de différences. Au regard de la lex Irnitana, un colon ou un incola a les mêmes droits de porter une affaire devant le duumvir (iure dicundo).15 On observe la même chose sur le plan des corvées à effectuer sur les constructions publiques  : ‘Quiconque, citoyen ou incola de ce municipe ou qui habitera sur le territoire de ce municipe ou qui y possédera un champ ou des champs, que tous ceux-là soient redevables de donner, d’accomplir, de fournir ces corvées’, à défaut de quoi les édiles s’octroient le droit d’infliger des amendes.16 La bilingue à Anthestia Iucunda Une inscription de Dion mentionne explicitement les incolae. Il s’agit d’une dédicace bilingue à Anthestia Iucunda dont les dédicants sont les femmes des colons et celles des incolae  : Colonarum et incolarum coniuges – M. Clavel-Lévêque et al. 1993: 81 [Th. 125]. Behrends et al. 2000: 68, 45 [Th. 80]  ; cf.  Rizakis 2004:  77-81 et notamment sur le statut des terres des Romains et des incolae, p. 78. À Héraclée du Pont et à Sinope, les incolae ont reçu une partie de la ville et du territoire, cf. Brunt 1971: 246. 13  Rizakis 1998: 601; cf. Clavel-Lévêque et al. 1993: 1-3, p. 3 [Th.1] sur la structure agraire de la colonie. 14  Hinrichs 1989: 164. D’où l’importance de l’archivage qui conserve les données liées à la cadastration, cf. Moatti 1993: 63-97 en particulier. 15  Lex Irnitana, LXXXIV : la loi apporte des restrictions à ce droit, selon le type de procès, cf. AE 1986 333. 16  Trad. ibid. : Lex Irnitana, LXXXIII : Q[uicum]que [mu]nicipes incolaeue eius municipi erunt a[ut i]ựntr[a fines munici]pi eius habitabunt agrum agrosue habebun[t, ii omn]es ea[s operas] dare facere praestareque debento. Les corvées ne doivent pas excéder cinq jours pour chaque homme. Les plus de soixante et les moins de quinze ans ne sont pas obligés de fournir ces travaux.

Ces paragraphes sur le statut des incolae ont été nourris de la lecture de A.D. Rizakis (1998: 599-617, en particulier 602). Voir également sur la question: De Ruggiero 1921:  169  sq.; Laffi 1966; Chastagnol 1996: 13-25; Portillo 1983; Poma 1998:  135-147; Papazoglou 1997. Voir également pour la bibliographie Thomas 1996: 25, n. 1. 7  Lex Coloniae Genetivae, XCVIII 33-35 : qui in ea colon(ia) intrave eius colon(iae) fins domicilium praediumue habebit neque eius colon(iae) colon(us) erit, cf. Crawford 1996: 408. 8  Lex Coloniae Genetivae, CXXVI, 30-32: colonos Genetivos incolasque hospites adventoresque. Cf. Crawford 1996: 414. 9  Et ab agrorum noua dedicatione culturae colonias appelauerunt : ‘et qu’ils [d’illustres Romains] appelèrent colonies du fait de leur nouvelle consécration à la culture de la terre’, trad. Clavel-Lévêque et al. 1996: 42-45 [Th. 140]. 10  Dans le cas de Patras, les incolae jouissent de privilèges importants  (cf.  Pausanias, VII, 18, 7) qui devaient compenser les désavantages matériels et l’infériorité sociale issus de la deductio.





Entre perte d’autonomie, acculturation et intégration

Κολώνων καὶ παροίκων αἱ γυναῖκες. Il s’agit d’une base de statue, constituée de deux blocs superposés avec sur le lit supérieur, une mortaise destinée à l’insertion de la plinthe de la statue. Le monument a été découvert à Dion dans le sanctuaire d’Isis Lochia dans l’espace identifié comme ala et est exposé au musée de Dion17 (Figure 1). La gravure a été réalisée avec soin. Les lettres grecques sont de plus petites dimensions que les lettres latines, mais toutes sont gravées de manière régulière. La paléographie ainsi que la présence du iota adscrit montrent que l’inscription doit être datée des débuts de la colonisation.18 L’époux d’Anthestia Iucunda, P.  Anthestius Amphio, a été aedilis, duumvir et duumvir quinquennalis.19 Cette famille d’affranchis-magistrats domine la colonie à l’époque augustéenne.

Figure 1. La dédicace bilingue à Anthestia Iucunda.

formes de pratiques gouvernementales.22 Cette inscription et sa mention de la communauté des incolae doivent être interprétées non comme le signe d’une coupure avec les coloni, mais plutôt comme l’expression de la participation des pérégrins à la vie sociale et politique de la colonie.

Cette dédicace possède la particularité de présenter un formulaire bilingue, ce qui met en lumière à Dion, dès les débuts de la colonisation, la perméabilité des frontières linguistiques et juridiques puisque la dédicace a été faite conjointement par les colons et les incolae. L’inscription de Dion confirme les propos du Digeste selon lesquels incolae et paroikoi sont des termes équivalents.20 Le terme paroikoi apparaît à l’époque hellénistique dans les cités d’Asie Mineure où il existait, alors, une population indigène subordonnée à la suite d’une conquête ou rattachée administrativement à la cité par ordre royal.21 La colonisation romaine n’a fait que conserver le terme paroikoi mais dans un contexte social différent (Rizakis 1998: 604, n. 21; Papazoglou 1997: particulier 231-234). Les incolae constituant la majorité de la population, les Romains ne pouvaient les assujettir de manière trop arbitraire à de nouvelles

Les rapports entre colons et incolae Les incolae ne sont pas coupés du reste de la société, mais bien intégrés à celle-ci. Même si la formule coloni et incolae, fréquente aux Ier et IIe siècles p.C. dans la partie occidentale de l’Empire, est plus rare dans les dédicaces des colonies romaines d’Orient,23 il est clair que l’exemple de Dion n’est pas isolé, A.D. Rizakis remarque que dans de nombreuses cités de l’empire, ‘les deux groupes de population collaborent cordialement et agissent en commun afin d’ériger des dédicaces diverses’ (Rizakis 1998: 614).24 Y.  Thomas a, lui aussi, remarqué cet état de fait  : ‘On est souvent frappé par le fort degré de participation à la vie publique des simples résidents dans les petites cités du monde romain occidental. (…) On les voit célébrer ensemble avec les citoyens euxmêmes un bienfaiteur auquel conjointement ils dédient une statue ou une base honorifique : ils sont alors les coauteurs de la dédicace, il faut bien imaginer dans ce cas des formes de décision en commun’ (Thomas 1996: 27).25

Colonarum et incolarum coniuges / Anthestiae P(ublii) l(ibertae) Iucundae honoris causa  / Κολώνων καὶ παροίκων αἱ γυναῖκες vac. Ἀνθεστίαι Ποπλίου  / ἀπελευθέραι Ἰουκούνδαι ἀρετῆς ἕνεκεν  : Pandermalis 1984: 277 ; RICIS 133/0210 ; SEG XXXIV 631 ; AE 1998 1210 ; BE 1987 675 ; Demaille 2008: 202. Papazoglou 1990: 122-123, présente une analyse de l’inscription. 18  Sur la datation des monuments mentionnant la famille des Anthestii de Dion, cf. Demaille 2008: 198-200. 19  Makaronas 1937: 527-528  ; AE  1950 20  ; Šašel  Kos 1979: n°  180  ; Demaille 2008: n° 1, 201. 20  Dig. L.16, 239.2 : Incola est, qui aliqua regione domicilium suum contulit ; quem Graeci paroikon appelant. On retrouve la mention de paroikoi dans une inscription d’Akanthos gravée sur le tronc d’une colonne : une dédicace à Auguste, faite par la polis, les negotiatores et les paroikoi : [Αὐτοκράτορι Καίσ]α[ρι] / [Θ]εῶι Θεοῦ [υἱῶι]  / Σεβαστῶι ἡ πόλ[ις] / καὶ οἱ συνπραγματευ/όμενοι Ῥωμαῖοι καὶ / οἱ παροικοῦντες : Tod 1918-1919: n° 13, p. 85; SEG I 282 ; Benjamin, Raubitschek 1959: n° 26, 63. Cf. Papazoglou 1990: 124 et n. 37 ; 1988: 434 ; Rizakis 1998: 604. 21  Sur cette question et sur le parallèle entre incolae et paroikoi, cf. Papazoglou 1990: 123 ; 1997: 235-248. 17 

Sur le statut des incolae et leurs rapports aux colons et à la colonie : Macmullen 2003: 25-28. 23  Par exemple, pour l’Occident, les inscriptions provenant de Narbonne (CIL XII 4333 = ILS 112), de Valence (CIL XII 1748 = ILS 884), de Nîmes (CIL XII 4189), de Cordoue (CIL II 2222, 2226), ou encore de Carthago Nova (CIL II 3419), citées par Rizakis 1998: 603-604. 24  Laffi 1966: 197, n.  576, dresse la liste des dédicaces faites par les coloni et les incolae, cité par Rizakis 1998: n. 65.  25  Thomas 1996:  31, rappelle que les incolae possèdent des droits politiques (droits de vote en certaines circonstances, droits 22 


Julien Demaille Nous ignorons de quelle manière ces décisions communes entre colons et pérégrins pouvaient être prises, mais il semble raisonnable de penser que les élites jouaient un rôle fondamental dans le rapprochement des deux communautés. La notabilité grecque était particulièrement apte à remplir cette fonction parce qu’une partie de ses membres a été, très tôt, intégrée dans le corps des citoyens ; c’est le cas de deux édiles  : L(ucius) Iulius Hyla qui, parce qu’il porte le nomen Iulius, semble avoir obtenu la citoyenneté de César ou d’Auguste,26 et de Πριμίων Φολβίας, connu par une inscription rédigée en grec.27 Il est intéressant de remarquer que ces deux magistrats offrent chacun une statue à la même divinité, qu’elle soit nommée Liber Pater par le premier ou Δίονυσος par le second. Si finalement peu de Grecs ayant accédé à la citoyenneté romaine exercent des prêtrises et revêtent des magistratures, leur participation est essentielle car elle est le symbole même de l’intégration des populations helléniques au sein de la colonie romaine de Dion. Le meilleur représentant de cette union entre les communautés est sans doute C(aius) Memmius Lycus, désigné comme légat la colonie de Dion et envoyé à Athènes pour offrir une statue à l’empereur Hadrien lors de l’inauguration de l’Olympeion en 131-132 p.C.28 C(aius) Memmius Lycus est, très probablement, un Grec dont les ancêtres ont obtenu la civitas de P(ublius) Memmius P(ublii) f(ilius) Regulus, gouverneur de la Macédoine de 35 à 44 p.C. et à qui les habitants de Dion ont fait une dédicace.29

‘voie d’accès’ privilégiée pour l’accession à la civitas Romana (Thomas 1996: 83). La disparition de la mention incolae et coloni dans les inscriptions de Dion à partir du IIe siècle de notre ère ne peut être considérée comme un argument suffisant pour affirmer le rapprochement des deux communautés. En revanche, le fait que ce type de formule tende à disparaître, à cette époque, dans l’ensemble du monde romain est un argument fort pour affirmer le rapprochement des statuts. L’admission à la civitas d’un nombre toujours croissant d’incolae jusqu’à leur admission massive dans le corps des citoyens doit être mise en relation avec le rapprochement des deux communautés. L’onomastique des incolae aux débuts de la colonisation Contrairement aux citoyens romains que l’on rencontre sur des supports de différentes natures (épigraphie privée, publique, monnaies…), les incolae sont presque exclusivement enfermés dans la sphère de la dédicace privée. Ils n’utilisent jamais le latin dans les textes épigraphiques. Contrairement aux citoyens romains, les incolae ne portent pas de gentilices, mais des formules onomastiques grecques. Ils portent généralement un nom unique, suivi du patronyme accompagné ou non de υἱός  ; les mentions de υἱός sont plutôt rares, il semble qu’elles se perdent rapidement et que le patronyme seul au génitif devienne la marque de la filiation sous l’Empire : Ἀλεξίππος Διοσκουρίδου υἱός31 est un des seuls incolae de la colonie à posséder une telle onomastique, la plupart des noms faisant l’économie de la mention υἱός  : Σώσανδρος Ἀπολλωνίου,32 Ἰππόστρατος Παραμόνου,33 Ἑρμόστρατος Ἐπικράτους et Δελφὶς Δώρου,34 Εὐτυχία Ἡρακλέας,35 [---]βαντα Διονυσίου,36 Καλλεικράτης Ἀντιγόνου Πυδναῖος  ;37 Παρμενίων Φιλίππου,38 [Ἀ]θηναὶς Ἀγαθοφο[νο?]ς,39 ou encore Βερενίκη Κορράγο[υ].40

On doit donc considérer que les incolae sont davantage que de simples résidents  : ils sont intégrés, par leur participation, à la vie sociale et, à un degré moindre que les cives, à la vie politique de la cité. Selon Y. Thomas, ils sont même ‘inscrits sur les registres qui officialisaient et fixaient leur statut, et figuraient sous une rubrique particulière dans les listes du cens local’ (1996: 32). Certains penseurs et historiens de l’Antiquité, comme Denys D’Halicarnasse, Cicéron, Tite-Live ou Polybe convergent justement sur ce point : c’est sur le census, institution fondamentale, que repose la cité romaine toute entière (Nicolet 1976: 27), car être inscrit sur les listes du census, c’est appartenir à une même communauté, la communauté dont font partie tous les citoyens de l’empire et que Y.  Thomas appelle la ‘commune patrie’ (1996: 1-23 en particulier). Selon A.  Raggi, l’appartenance à une communauté de droit romain est la voie normale de l’accès à la civitas Romana.30 Dans une colonie romaine comme Dion, la participation politique des incolae est un véritable ‘tremplin’, une

Ces incolae désignés par leur nom suivi du patronyme représentent la partie la plus faible de la population.41 Mais ce tableau est trompeur, parce que, ainsi que Cormack 1975: n° 7, 108-109, pl. 11. Cormack 1970: n° 3, 52, pl. 3; Pandermalis 1981: 291, pl. 6; SEG XXXI 627; Lagogianni-Georgakarakos 1998: n° 40, pl. 19. 33  Chrysostomou 1999: 243-64; BE 2000 456. 34  Stephanidou-Tiveriou 1986:  26-27, pl.  5; SEG  XXXVI 613; BE  1987 676. 35  Cormack 1975: n° 8, 109. 36  Cormack 1970: n° 16, 63-64, pl. 16; BE 1971 402. 37  Marki 1994: 155; BE  2001 276. Πυδναῖος est l’ethnique du personnage. 38  K. Rhomiopoulou, Arch. Delt. 35 (1980) [1988], Chronika, p. 370 et pl. 217γ ; Touchais 1989: 642 ; BE 1990 467. 39  K. Rhomiopoulou, Arch. Delt. 36 (1981) [1988] n° B304; SEG XXXVIII 629. 40  Pandermalis 1995: 167; SEG XLVIII 787; BE 1999 334. 41  Papazoglou 1990:  119-120, fait le même constat pour les autres colonies de Macédoine. 31  32 

judiciaires, droit de siéger au conseil décurional) mais qu’ils possèdent aussi des devoirs  (obligations militaires et fiscales). Rappelons que Y. Thomas s’appuie essentiellement sur des sources issues de la partie occidentale de l’empire. 26  Kotzias 1948-1949: n° 5, 37 et pl. 7; Šašel Kos 1979: 186 ; BE 1953 105 ; Pandermalis 1981: 290-291 ; ILGR 186. 27  Kotzias 1948-1949: n° 4, 36, Pandermalis 1977: 332 ; BE 1953 105. 28  CIL III 7281 [=548]; IG II-III 3284; Edson 1975: 101. 29  Oikonomos 1915: n° 51, 33-31; AE 1915 114; Šašel Kos 1979: 178. 30  Selon Raggi 2004: 56.


Entre perte d’autonomie, acculturation et intégration

F.  Mottas l’avait déjà remarqué pour la colonie de Philippes, ‘la place occupée par les indigènes est sans doute plus importante que ne le laisse apparaître la simple addition des noms reconnus comme indigènes’ (1994: 24), et cela pour deux raisons. Tout d’abord, parce que les incolae, économiquement moins riches que les Rhomaioi, sont plus rarement représentés par les monuments funéraires, mais aussi parce que la définition onomastique que nous avons donnée, en les désignant comme les non-porteurs de gentilice, est trop étroite et doit être remise dans son contexte chronologique et dans le contexte épigraphique de la colonie de Dion où l’on rencontre un grand nombre de porteurs de nomina nuda.

d’un gentilice seul sont citoyens, mais il est plus difficile de trancher pour les porteurs d’un praenomen, d’un cognomen, ou d’un nom grec unique. À vrai dire, avec la multiplication des nomina nuda, il devient extrêmement difficile de savoir si les porteurs de ce genre de noms sont des Romains ou des incolae. Leur grand nombre exclut l’hypothèse qu’il puisse s’agir d’esclaves dont on sait que le niveau de revenu ne pouvait leur permettre un recours massif à l’épigraphie funéraire. F.  Papazoglou a émis l’hypothèse selon laquelle les porteurs d’un nom unique seraient les ‘anciens habitants de la chôra rattachés à la cité’ qui étaient souvent de rangs inférieurs, ‘libres mais sans droit politique’ avant la deductio. Ces personnes auraient appartenu aux couches inférieures de la société, sans toutefois désigner nécessairement des esclaves. Ces populations auraient possédé avant la fondation de la colonie un statut inférieur aux ‘citoyens grecs’, et auraient désigné des affranchis, des enfants issus de mariages mixtes, ou encore des citoyens privés de leurs droits civiques. Cette partie de la population, qui devait être soumise au tributum capitis, n’aurait pas vu changer son statut après la deductio. F.  Papazoglou s’appuie sur l’exemple des laoi basilikoi qui désignaient, dans le contexte des monarchies hellénistiques d’Asie, les populations rurales dépendantes, qui étaient des cultivateurs libres sans droits politiques (1990: 121122).

La question des nomina nuda Avec 150 porteurs d’un nom unique (simplex nomen), également appelé nom isolé ou encore nom diacritique (Lassère 2005: 102), soit plus de 43% des noms connus à Dion, la multiplication des nomina nuda42 est un fait épigraphique assez remarquable dans la colonie. La plupart des noms de ce type apparaissent dans des inscriptions tardives, mais on remarque des exemples assez précoces du phénomène, comme dans cette inscription funéraire du début de l’Empire qui mentionne Γάιος et Ὁρτήσιος.43 À Dion, tous les porteurs de noms uniques sont connus par des inscriptions rédigées en grec. La très grande majorité ́ des porteurs de nom unique sont désignés par un nom grec comme Θερινή44 ou Κρατησίς.45 Certains portent un cognomen latin seul comme Ἄπτος46ou Λονγεῖνα,47 ou encore un praenomen unique tel que Γαία48 ou Γάιος.49 On connaît également onze porteurs d’un gentilice unique parmi lesquels Αὐρηλία,50 Καλπορνία,51 Κασσία,52 Δεῖα,53 Δομετία54 ou Πετρώνιος.55 Il est évident que les porteurs

Or, les cités grecques et macédoniennes, à la différence de celles d’Asie Mineure, n’avaient pas de population rurale autochtone dépendante, contrairement à ce qu’avance F. Papazoglou. De la même manière, selon F. Papazoglou, dans la colonie de Philippes, les Édoniens ne seraient pas des Philippenses et leur statut serait inférieur à celui des incolae hellènes (1997: 124). Cet argument est difficile à accepter, puisqu’à Patras (et sans doute dans les autres colonies de Grèce et de Macédoine), il n’y a pas de différence, sur le plan légal, entre les incolae Patrenses vivant à l’intérieur des murs de la cité (incolae intramurani), et ceux qui avaient fixé leur domicile à la campagne (incolae extramurani) et dans les enclaves (praefecturae) (Rizakis 1998: 612). M.B.  Hatzopoulos s’oppose à l’hypothèse de F. Papazoglou :56 il n’y a pas de trace dans la documentation hellénistique d’une catégorie de population libre privée de droits politiques avant la colonisation romaine. Au contraire, un décret hellénistique de Gazoros dans le territoire de Philippes montre que les habitants des komai étaient sur un pied d’égalité avec les habitants de la ville.57

Sur la question, cf. Kajanto 1996: 421-430 ; Marrou 1977: 431-435 ; Duval 1977: 447-456. 43  K. Rhomiopoulou, Arch. Delt. 34 (1979) Chron., p. 279; BE 1999 332; SEG XXXVIII 618; SEG XLVIII 789. 44  Leake 1835: pl. xxxi, n° 155; Dimitsas 1896: n° 163 et 182; IG 1953b; BE 1971 402; Cormack 1970: n° 4, 53-54 ; Pandermalis 1981: 283-284; SEG XXXI 627; Rigsby 1994: 192-193; SEG XLIV 526. 45  Oikonomos 1915: n° 48, 28; Cormack 1975: 112. 46  Cormack 1970: n° 10, 58, pl. 10 ; ILS 4809 ; Peek 1971: 185-6, n° 2 ; BE 1971 402 et BE 1973 270 ; SEG XXXI 630 ; Pandermalis 1981: 291-292, pl. 7 ; Samama 2003: n° 81, 183-184. 47  Heuzey 1860: n° 37, 481 ; CIG 1964 ; Dimitsas 1896: n° 175, 144-145. 48  Spiliopoulou-Donderer 2002: D19, 201-202 ; SEG LII 599. 49  Connu dans plusieurs inscriptions de la colonie, par exemple  : Heuzey 1860: n° 29, 479 ; Kaibel 1878: n° 525 ; Dimitsas 1896: n° 165, 140 ; Peek 1955: n° 229 ; Cormack 1970: n° 7, 55, pl. 7a-b ; SEG XXIV 478 ; BE 1971 40 ; Cormack 1975: 110 ; BE 1966 237 ; Kazazis 1989: n° 5, 279283 ; K. Rhomiopoulou, Arch. Delt. 34 (1979) Chron. p. 279 ; BE 1999 332 ; SEG XXXVIII 618 ; SEG XLVIII 789. 50  Lagogianni 1983: 117, n° 2 ; Lagogianni-Georgakarakos 1998: n° 44, p. 51, pl. 22 ; SEG XXXV 745. 51  Kazazis 1989: 274-277; BE 1991 383, 2. 52  Lagogianni-Georgakarakos 1998: n°  50, 55, pl.  22; Cormack 1970: n° 5, 54, pl. 5; AE 1999 1410; BE 1999 33. 53  Clarke 1916: 308, n° 1; Dimitsas 1896: n° 178, 146; IG 1953. 54  Pandermalis 1999: 122-123; BE 2003 453/6; Spiliopoulou-Donderer 2002: D13, 195-196. 55  Heuzey 1860: n° 31, 480 ; Dimitsas 1896: n° 166, 140. 42 

À Dion non plus, il ne semble pas y avoir de différence statutaire entre les habitants de la ville et de la chôra : les nomina nuda se retrouvent aussi bien dans l’espace 56  57 


BE 1992 297. BE 1984 259.

Julien Demaille

Figure 2. Répartition des porteurs et des non-porteurs de gentilice sur le territoire de la colonie romaine de Dion.

rural que dans l’espace urbain de la colonie de Dion, de même que les citoyens dénommés par les duo ou tria nomina (Cf.  Figure 2). Si l’on s’en tient à cette stricte définition qui caractérise les incolae comme ceux qui ne portent pas de gentilice, incluant les noms grecs avec patronymes et les noms simples, il faut répertorier 152 incolae contre 211 porteurs de gentilices. On les retrouve

partout dans le territoire, aux mêmes endroits que les Romains, ce qui signifie que les incolae n’ont pas été rejetés dans un endroit du territoire, et, par corollaire, que les Romains, à l’image des incolae, ne se sont pas regroupés, mais se sont dispersés sur tout le territoire colonial. De même que les Romains, les incolae sont plus nombreux dans la ville de Dion. À cela deux raisons : il 142

Entre perte d’autonomie, acculturation et intégration

s’agit du centre du territoire colonial avec des fonctions administratives et commerciales, mais il faut signaler qu’il s’agit également du site le plus riche et le mieux fouillé de Piérie.

signification pour eux. A.D.  Rizakis observe un même emploi irrégulier du nomen Aurelius, même après 212 et parvient au même constat : ‘La conclusion que l’on peut tirer de ces incohérences […] est que la nomenclature était moins rigide qu’on ne le pense et que l’usage du nomen Aurelius était soit un choix délibéré du rédacteur ou de ses commanditaires, soit dépendait d’autres circonstances qu’on ignore. […] L’onomastique [après 212] glisse vers d’autres formes d’expression plus simples’ (Rizakis 2011: 255; cf. Bouraelis 1989). L’omission du gentilice permet donc d’expliquer le grand nombre de porteurs de nomina nuda à Dion. Le caractère officiel, administratif ou privé de l’inscription joue beaucoup dans le choix ou non de mentionner le gentilice Aurelius. Assez souvent dans les inscriptions de la colonie, des citoyens romains omettent de mentionner leur gentilice, ce qui les apparente faussement à des incolae.

Une certaine uniformisation des noms et des statuts La multiplication des nomina nuda, qui se retrouve dans les sources littéraires,58 est liée au fait que le gentilice a été dévalorisé en tant que recognitif de la citoyenneté,́ et cela pour deux raisons. La première est que depuis 212 p.C., la grande majorité ́ des habitants du monde romain sont devenus citoyens. L’autre raison est la trop grande abondance des gentilices impériaux, notamment les nomina Iulius (fréquent depuis longtemps) et Aurelius (lié à l’édit de Caracalla).59 Les inscriptions de Dion donnent à voir 32 Aurelii qui ont obtenu, ou leurs ancêtres, la civitas de Caracalla, à la suite de la Constitutio Antoniniana ou peut-être des derniers Antonins (Marc-Aurèle ou Commode). Sur le territoire colonial, les 32 Aurelii recensés sur les 211 porteurs de gentilices représentent environ 15  % des porteurs de gentilices  ; c’est assez peu comparé aux 38  % que l’on constate pour le reste de la Macédoine. Selon les analyses d’A.D.  Rizakis, le pourcentage des Aurelii par rapport à l’ensemble des gentilices romains est moins élevé en Macédoine que dans les autres provinces de l’empire. Cependant, leur présence après l’édit de Caracalla paraît très importante dans certaines cités, comme à Thessalonique où les porteurs du nomen constituent 65 % des individus mentionnés dans la liste agonistique dite des Pythia datant de 252/253 p.C.60 Le pourcentage des Aurelii atteint presque 100% dans un catalogue d’agoranomes de Serres, en Macédoine Orientale (Rizakis 2011: 254 et n. 6). Dans le catalogue des fidèles de Zeus Hypsistos daté de 250 p.C. découvert à Alonia, à proximité immédiate du site antique de Pydna dans le nord du territoire de la colonie de Dion,61 le pourcentage des Aurelii s’élève à 80 % des membres de l’association cultuelle. On y rencontre 20 des 32 Aurelii connus en Piérie, ce qui rend compte, également, de la relative faiblesse du nombre de porteurs du nomen Aurelius présents ailleurs dans la colonie.

Omission du nomen gentilicium et valorisation du cognomen Un monument funéraire découvert à Nea Ephesos, à quelques kilomètres au nord de Dion, fournit l’exemple d’une telle pratique : c’est une épitaphe dans laquelle les dédicants sont désignés par un nom unique  : Οὐαλεριανός, Δεῖα et Λουκίλα.62 Ces trois frères et sœurs font la dédicace à leur père Αὐρηλίος Λύκος, médecin des chevaux, désigné par les duo nomina. Ce dernier est un citoyen descendant d’un Grec romanisé suite à l’édit de Caracalla. Οὐαλεριανός, comme Δεῖα et Λουκίλα omettent donc de préciser leur nom de gens. On note ainsi l’évolution vers le nom unique, sans pour autant que ces personnages soient des pérégrins. Οὐαλεριανός est désigné comme cognomen par H. Solin et I.  Kajanto, mais également comme nom de gens.63 Il est considéré comme tel par A.B.  Tataki qui précise que le nom est présent à Beroia et Thessalonique (2006: 423-424). Δεῖα, nom unique, est utilisé comme nom de gens. Le nomen n’est pas répertorié par A.B. Tataki, mais il est cité par H. Solin et O. Salomies sous l’orthographe Deius ou Deiius (1988: 67). Dans le LGPN, la seule mention approchante du nom est Δείας en Cyrénaïque à BarkaPtolemaïs au Ier siècle a.C.-Ier siècle p.C.64 Λουκίλα est également désigné par H. Solin et O. Salomies comme nom de gens et comme cognomen avec l’orthographe Lucil(l)us/a.65

À Dion et en Macédoine, au IIIe siècle p.C., les nouveaux citoyens n’éprouvent pas la nécessité de mentionner à tout prix un gentilice qui ne permet plus l’identification de la personne et qui n’a, finalement, pas grande

De la seconde moitié du IIe siècle p.C., un autel funéraire, récemment mis au jour, offre un autre exemple de cette habitude épigraphique  : Οὔλπιος Ζωσᾶς, qui fait la dédicace à son épouse Ἰουλία Εὐτυχιανή, une femme médecin et maïeuticienne,66 appelle sa défunte

Lassère 2005:  102 : ‘Les sources littéraires montrent que les individus du Bas-Empire sont désignés par un nom unique et l’épigraphie permet d’en saisir de nombreux exemples dès le règne de Constantin’. 59  Lassère 2005: 103 et n. 80; cf. Mócsy 1964: 257-263 et Borhy 1989: 151-157, qui admet que le nom Iulius, en plus de celui de Flavius, est devenu, au IVe siècle, une sorte de titre attribué surtout à des officiers. 60  IG X, 2, 1, 38 a-b. 61  Makaronas 1941-1951: 625, n° 55 ; Cormack 1974: 51-52 ; TačevaHitova 1978: 73, n° 14 ; Chrysostomou 1989-1991 : n° 1, 44-45 ; SEG XLVI 800. 58 

Clarke 1916: n° 1, 308; Dimitsas 1896: n° 178, 146; IG 1953. Solin et Salomies 1988: 197 (gentilice) et 417 (cognomen). 64  LGPN I p. 120, cf. SEG IX 429. 65  Solin et Salomies 1988: 107 (gentilice) et 354 (cognomen). 66  Papageorgiou 2011: 249-256 ; AE 2011 1159; ΒΕ 2013. 262. 62  63 


Julien Demaille compagne par son seul cognomen dans les premières lignes de l’inscription, ainsi qu’il devait l’appeler sa vie durant, avant de donner son nom entier (nomen et cognomen) à la fin du texte, comme s’il mentionnait son état civil. De même, sur un autel funéraire daté de 150200 p.C., Σεμπρωνία Ἡλιόνη fait la dédicace funéraire à sa fille Γαία :67 à moins que le père ne soit un incola, sa fille est citoyenne et le gentilice est, là encore, sous-entendu. Souvent, pour désigner les enfants, on fait l’omission du gentilice. C’est également le cas de Γάιος qui apparaît sur une stèle funéraire à fronton.68 Son frère est désigné sous le nom de Ὁρτήσιος signalé comme cognomen par H.  Solin et O.  Salomies, ainsi que par I.  Kajanto.69 Dans cette inscription, Γάιος et Ὁρτήσιος sont désignés comme les fils d’un citoyen et d’une citoyenne  : Δέκμος Σίρτιος Μᾶρκος et Σεστία Μαξίμα. Le nom de gens du père, Sirtius, est, selon toute vraisemblance, sous-entendu dans l’inscription : Γάιος (Σίρτιος) et (Σίρτιος) Ὁρτήσιος.

est mentionné par I.  Kajanto comme cognomen (1982: 148). Il est vrai que l’on rencontre le nom comme cognomen à Eleia (Zoumbaki 1996: 193, n. 7), mais H. Solin, O. Salomies le considèrent, avec raison, comme un gentilice.75 À Dion, Herennianus doit être envisagé comme un cognomen utilisé en tant que gentilice seul. C’est également l’analyse que fait A.B.  Tataki (2006: 246). On reconnaît que le nom a été formé sur le gentilice Herennius, porté par l’une des familles les plus importantes de la colonie et il faut probablement rattacher ce personnage à cette gens Herennia qui a donné à la colonie un duumvir quinquennalis à l’époque augustéenne.76 De la même manière, Τιβεριανὸς Κοσμιανός est le dédicant de deux épitaphes funéraires, l’une à sa mère Ἰουλία (Oikonomos 1915: n° 18, 18), l’autre à sa sœur Ἰταλία (Oikonomos 1915: n° 17, 18). Il est donc le fils d’une citoyenne romaine d’origine grecque. Il a, lui aussi, fait le choix de porter un gentilice formé sur un cognomen. Un autel funéraire du IIIe siècle p.C. découvert près de Nea Ephesos, au nord de Dion, nous fait connaître un autre porteur de ce nomen, Τίτος Τιβεριανὸς Παρμενίων, marié à Κομινία Ἀντιγόνα.77 H. Solin et O. Salomies mentionnent Tiberianus comme cognomen mais également comme nomen en s’appuyant justement sur cette inscription.78 C’est un gentilice typique de Macédoine analysé en tant quel par A.B. Tataki (2006: 410). On rencontre un autre porteur de la gens à Sandanski où Τιβεριανὸς Ποσιδώνιος est honoré par un décret de la boulè.79

On rencontre de nombreux cas dans les inscriptions de Dion, généralement mentionnés sur des épitaphes des IIe-IIIe siècles : sur l’un d’entre eux, Δομετία nomme son fils Παῦλος par son cognomen.70 Un autre monument daté de fin IIe siècle-début IIIe siècle p.C., illustre encore cette liberté onomastique en mentionnant Λύκος Ἐπικτᾶ, son épouse Αἰλία Ὑμνὶς, ainsi que leur fils Aδυμος :71 le père porte deux noms grecs au même cas, la mère un nom de gens et un cognomen, tandis que le fils se contente d’un nom simple. Enfin, sur un support de nature indéterminée, Μαρκελλῖνα est mentionnée comme étant la fille de Ἰούλιος Πρῶτος affranchi de la cité (Oikonomos 1915: n° 21, 19). De même que son frère Πρῶτος, qui a repris le cognomen de son père, Μαρκελλῖνα omet de mentionner son gentilice Iulius, alors que tous deux sont fils d’un affranchi.72 L’onomastique des inscriptions funéraires privées de Dion est souvent simplifiée, ce qui signifie qu’un nom unique peut désigner une personne libre et même un citoyen. Les personnes qui portent le nomen Aur(elius) suivi de leur cognomen dans le catalogue à caractère officiel de Pydna73 que nous avons déjà évoqué, pourraient être appelées dans l’épigraphie funéraire, plus informelle, par des nomina nuda. L’omission du gentilice à une date tardive valorise le port du cognomen et va jusqu’à lui conférer, dans certains cas, une valeur de gentilice. On retrouve assez souvent ce phénomène à Dion.

Solin et Salomies 1988: 92 (gentilice), 341 (cognomen). Marcus Herennius, duumvir quinquennalis, est connu pour avoir fait frapper une série de monnaies de l’époque augustéenne, cf. KremydiSicilianou 1996: 171-172; Burnett et al. 1992: n° 1504, 290. L’attribution à Pella ou à Dion de cette émission monétaire n’est pas certaine, M. Grant (1946:  277-278), attribue même, à tort sans doute, cette émission à Dyrrachium. La prosopographie semblerait donner du poids en faveur de l’attribution à Dion, d’autant plus qu’on ne rencontre pas, selon A.B. Tataki (2006: 246-250), d’autre mention de la gens Herennia à Pella. Un décret honorifique de la colonie de Dion mentionne une Herennia M(arci) f(iliae) Pagilla (Pandermalis 1984: 273 ; RICIS 113/0204 ; AE 1998 1202 ; SEG XXXIV 630) dont on peut supposer qu’elle est la fille du magistrat figurant sur l’émission monétaire. Une certaine Herennia Prima a été également honorée par une inscription non publiée (Pandermalis 1984:  271-272  ; BE  1987 675,1) gravée au revers d’une base de statue offerte au roi Cassandre (Pandermalis 1984: 271-272 ; 1999: 59 ; SEG XXXIV 1984; Falezza 2008: 176, n. 50). Une plaque commémorative de la donation d’un portique et d’une statue mentionne l’officier M. Herennius Philotimus (Pandermalis 2003: 418 ; BE 2005 310, 8 ; AE 2003 1582c ; Falezza 2008: 175, n. 43). On rencontre d’autres Herrenii au IIe siècle sur un autel funéraire où la fille Ἑρεννία Σεκοῦν[δα] fait la dédicace à ses parents [Μ. Ἑρέ]ννιος [Φρό?]ντων et Ἑρεννία Γαουία (Cormack 1975: 106 ; Oikonomos 1915: n° 8, 13, pour les trois dernières lignes du texte uniquement). Ἑρέννιος Διονυσᾶς fait la dédicace funéraire à son fils Διονυσόδωρος (CIG 1962 ; Heuzey 1860: n° 36, 481 ; Dimitsas 1896: n° 174, 143-144) dans une inscription retrouvée à Kontariotissa. Ἰγνατία Ἑρεννία porte un double gentilice (Pandermalis 1984: 274 ; AE 1998 1205 ; SEG XXXIV 625 ; BE 1987 675; RICIS, 113/0206). De manière générale, voir sur les Herrenii : Deniaux 1979: 623-650. 77  Dimitsas 1896: n° 176; Cormack 1970: n° 18, 65-66; CIG 1951; Clarke 1916: 308, n° 2; BE 1971 402; Arvanitaki 2009: 174; AE 2011 1162. 78  Solin et Salomies 1988: 185 (nomen) et 412 (cognomen). 79  IGBR V, 5894. 75  76 

Le nom Ἑρεννιανός, inscrit sur une stèle hermaïque datée par D. Pandermalis du début du IIIe siècle p.C.,74 Inscription déjà citée, cf. n. 65. Inscription déjà citée, cf. n. 69. 69  (H)orte(n)sius, cf. Solin et Salomies 1988: 343 et Kajanto 1982: 310. 70  Inscription déjà citée, cf. n. 71. 71  Spiliopoulou-Donderer 2002: D17, 199-200 ; SEG LII 597. 72  Solin et Salomies 1988: 357, mentionnent le nom comme cognomen au masculin Marcellinus. 73  Inscription déjà citée, cf. n. 82. 74  Pandermalis 1999: 158-159 ; SEG XLIX 696. 67  68 


Entre perte d’autonomie, acculturation et intégration

Τιβεριανὸς Κοσμιανός et Τίτος Τιβεριανὸς Παρμενίων, ou encore Οὐρβανιανος Βίλιστος80 et Γετιανὸς Πασίφιλος,81 portent des noms composés de deux cognomina dont le premier est utilisé comme nomen. Ce type de nomenclature se trouve assez fréquent en Macédoine (Tataki 2006: 52-53). Devant ces noms formés d’un ou plusieurs cognomina, nous sommes contraints de reconnaître l’impossibilité de déterminer le statut des porteurs. Comment, dans ce cas, établir une proportion entre incolae et citoyens ? Il est même possible que les citoyens soient plus nombreux à les porter. Il est d’autant plus difficile d’avoir une analyse précise du statut des individus qu’une grande partie du matériel épigraphique de la colonie date des IIe et IIIe siècles p.C., époque, où, nous l’avons vu, l’onomastique évolue vers le nom unique.

va dans le sens d’une intégration grandissante des incolae à la structure coloniale. À partir du IIe siècle p.C., on remarque une tendance au nivellement des statuts  : les incolae reçoivent progressivement les mêmes droits que les cives.84 Ce nivellement graduel des statuts entre les habitants libres de la colonie trouve un écho dans les changements affectant les modes de désignation des individus au sein de la colonie : dans les inscriptions funéraires, les habitants prennent de plus en plus de liberté dans la manière de se nommer ou de nommer leurs proches, utilisant tour à tour, duo ou tria nomina et nomina nuda. En raison de ce phénomène anthroponymique que l’on retrouve à l’échelle de l’empire, à partir du IIe  siècle p.C., il devient difficile de faire la distinction entre les citoyens et les anciens incolae. En réalité, à partir du moment où la civitas se répand dans la colonie, il n’est plus pertinent de parler d’incolae, puisque le clivage qui existait jusque là entre coloni et incolae disparaît en grande partie. Au IIIe siècle p.C., la richesse devient le principal marqueur de la différence sociale. Les rapports de domination entre les individus pouvaient toujours exister, mais il s’agissait d’une domination économique, qui n’était plus fondée, comme auparavant, sur la seule appartenance à la civitas Romana.

A.B.  Tataki fait la même analyse pour les colonies de Macédoine que pour Thessalonique et Beroia, cités florissantes à l’époque romaine (Tataki 2006: 39). Le fait que les nomina nuda ne se rencontrent pas chez des citoyens avant le IIe siècle p.C. et qu’ils deviennent de plus en plus fréquents au cours du IIIe siècle p.C., prouve qu’il s’agit d’une transformation majeure de l’onomastique évoluant vers le nom unique chrétien82 dont la nomenclature exclut, de facto, toute référence au statut social.83 C’est cette évolution à laquelle on assiste avec la multiplication des nomina nuda parmi les anciens incolae et les anciens cives au IIIe siècle p.C. En outre, à l’époque où ces noms sont utilisés, le degré ́ d’hellénisation des populations d’origine romaine est tel, qu’il est difficile de différencier les deux communautés qui ne forment sans doute plus qu’une seule communauté très hellénisée de citoyens romains de Piérie qui portent, tour à tour, des noms grecs ou latins.

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Conclusion L’onomastique est révélatrice des changements statutaires que connaissent les personnes libres de la colonie de Dion. Depuis l’époque de la deductio en 44/43 a.C. jusqu’à la Constitutio Antoniniana en 212 p.C., la colonie de Dion a connu plus de deux siècles et demi d’inégalité statutaire entres personnes libres. La distinction entre les deux groupes sociaux, très nette au lendemain de la deductio, disparaît peu à peu. L’évolution des rapports entre les colons et les incolae Mentionné dans une inscription déjà citée, cf. n. 82. Pandermalis 1984: 274  ; AE  1998 1204  ; SEG  XXXIV 624  ; RICIS 113/0205. 82  Selon Rizakis 1996: 23. Le christianisme a joué un rôle important dans cette évolution et selon Lassère (2005:  104)  : ‘dans les milieux chrétiens, la disparition du gentilice pourrait être liée au caractère communautaire des nécropoles (...). Il est patent que dans la plupart des épitaphes chrétiennes, le défunt est désigné par un nom unique’. 83  Kajanto 1996:  422  : ‘During the Empire, the designation of the social status became increasingly unusual, to vanish almost completely in Christian epigraphy’. 80  81 



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the International Colloquium organized by the Finnish Institute and the Centre for Greek and Roman Antiquity, Athens, 7-9 September 1993: 11-29. Athènes/Paris. Rizakis, A.D. 1998. Incolae-paroikoi  : populations et communautés indépendantes dans les cités et les colonies romaines d’Orient. REA 100: n° 3-4, 599-617. Rizakis, A.D. 2004. La littérature gromatique et la colonisation romaine en Orient, in G.  Salmeri, A.  Raggi, A.  Baroni (eds) Colonie romane nel mondo greco: 69-94. Rome. Rizakis, A.D. 2011. La diffusion des processus d’adaptation onomastique  : les Aurelii dans les provinces orientales de l’Empire, in M. DondinPayre (ed.) Les noms de personnes dans l’Empire romain: 253-262. Bordeaux. Rhomiopoulou, K. 1979. Arch. Delt. 34 (1979) Chron. : 279. Rhomiopoulou, K. 1980. Arch. Delt. 35 (1980) [1988], Chronika, p. 370 et pl. 217γ. Rhomiopoulou, K. 1981. Arch. Delt. 36 (1981) [1988] n° B304. Samama, É. 2003. Les médecins dans le monde grec. Sources épigraphiques sur la naissance d’un corps médical. Genève. Šašel  Kos, M. 1979. Inscriptiones Latinae in Graecia Repertae, Additamenta ad CIL III. Faenza. Solin, H., Salomies, O. 1988. Repertorium nominum gentilium et cognominum Latinorum (9e éd). Hildesheim/Zürich/New York 1988. Spiliopoulou-Donderer, I. 2002. Kaiserzeitliche Grabaltäre Niedermakedoniens: 185-204. Peleus  15. Mannheim/ Möhnesee. Stephanidou-Tiveriou, T. 1986. Επιτάφια Μνημεία του Δίου, in Οι Αρχαιολόγοι μιλούν για την Πιερία, Καλοκαίρι 1985, 2: 23-32. Thessalonique. Stephanidou-Tiveriou, T. 1998. Ἀνασκαφὴ Δίου. Ἡ ὀχύρωση. Thessalonique. Tačeva-Hitova, M. 1978. Dem Hypsistos geweihte Denkmäler in den Balkanländern. Balkan Studies 19: 59-75. Tataki, A.B. 2006. The Roman Presence in Macedonia, Evidence from Personal Names (=ΜΕΛΕΤΗΜΑΤΑ 46). Athènes. Thomas, Y. 1996. ‘Origine et commune patrie’, étude de droit public romain 89 av. J.-C.-212 ap. J.-C. Rome. Tod, M.N. 1918-1919. Macedonia, VI. Inscriptions. ABSA 23: 69-97. Touchais, G. 1889. Chronique des fouilles et découvertes archéologiques en Grèce en 1988. BCH 113:  581700. Vasileiadou, J. Η αγροτική ζωή από την αρχαία Πιερία. Αρχαιολογικά τεκμήρια. Thessalonique. Zoumbaki, S. 1996. Die Verbreitung der Römischen Namen in Eleia, in A.D. Rizakis (ed.) Roman onomastics in the Greek East : social and political aspects, proceedings of the international Colloquium organized by the Finnish Institute and the Centre for Greek and Roman Antiquity, Athens, 7-9 September, 1993: 191-206. Athènes/Paris. 147

Paus. X. 23. 14 on the Galatians’ Passage to Asia: lost in translation *

Oleg Gabelko** Pausanias’ Description of Greece, one of our main sources on the Galatian campaigns in the Balkans, contains а passage whiсh, in spite of its seeming simplicity, either baffles scholars or, on the contrary, is completely ignored by them. And indeed, as will be shown later, its story is rather unusual. At the end of his narration of the Galatians’ bloody odyssey in Europe, the Greek writer concludes: : ™gšneto d tîn Keltîn strate…a te ™pˆ t¾n `Ell£da kaˆ ¹ ¢pèleia 'Anaxikr£touj 'Aq»nVsin ¥rcontoj, deutšrJ d œtei tÁj pšmpthj Ñlum-pi£doj ™pˆ e‡kosi kaˆ ˜katÒn, ¿n L£daj A„gieÝj ™n…ka st£dion tù d œtei tù ™fexÁj Dhmoklšouj 'Aq»nVsin ¥rcontoj, oƒ d aâqij ™j t¾n 'As…an dia-ba…nousin oƒ Kelto… (Х. 23. 14). Of paramount importance is the fact that the Athenian archon and the Olympic Games mentioned in the passage allow us to establish the date of the Celts’ march to Anatolia: 278/277 BC. To a certain extent this clarifies the confusing chronology of the course of events. Yet, one should note the words at the end of this phrase. Let us start by rendering the passage in various editions. English: 1. Pausanias. Description of Greece. Translated into English with notes and index by A.R. Shilleto. Vol. II. London, 1912: ‘…the Celts crossed back again in Asia’; 2. Pausanias. Description of Greece. With an English Translation by W.H.S.  Jones. Vol. IV. Cambridge (MA); London, 1979: ‘…the Celts crossed back again in Asia’. German: 1. Pausanias. Beschreibung von Griechenland. Auf dem Griechischen übersetzt von J.H.C.  Schubart. Stuttgart, 1860: ‘…gingen wieder die Kelten nach Asien hinüber’. 2. Pausanias. Reisen in Griechenland. Gesamtausgabe in drei Bänden. Auf Grund der kommentierten Übersetzung von E.  Meyer This work has been carried out in the framework of the Russian Science Foundation grant 19-18-00549 ‘Discourse of the State Power in Ancient Societies and the Reception of its Elements in the Social and Political Practices in the World and Russia’. I would like to express my deep gratitude to Prof. I.E.  Surikov for his philological consultation. Of course, my colleague has no responsibility for the conclusions made in this article. ** Faculty Member, Russian State University for the Humanities (Moscow, Russia). *

herausgegeben von F.  Eckstein, abgeschlossen von P.C. Bol. Bd. III. Zürich; München, 1989: ‘…setzten die Kelten wieder nach Asien über’. French: Pausanias. La Périégèse dans la traduction de M.  Clavier. Paris, 1821: ‘…ces Barbares firent de nouveau une expédition en Asie’. Latin: Pausaniae Graeciae description. T. IV. Romuli Amasaei interpretationem Latinam. Lipsiae, 1796: ‘…rursus in Asiam Galli transmisere’. Russian: Павсаний. Описание Эллады. Перевод С.П. Кондратьева. Т. 2. Москва, 1994: ‘…кельты вновь перешли в Азию’. I believe that these examples are ample for our needs. In the translations of Pausanias’ sentence cited herein, as we may well see, the words in question here convey the idea that the Celts returned to Asia ‘again’, ‘back again’ or ‘anew’, which, evidently, is absolutely absurd from the historical point of view: indeed, how could they return to a place where they had never been before! But this fact does not seem to bother any of the experts. Neither does J.G.  Frazer ever mention this detail in his comments on Pausanias1 (a thorough commentary on the entire text), nor does C.  Habicht2 (in his profound research on Pausanias’ historical views and scholarly methods). W. Ameling in an article on Pausanias’ description of the history of Hellenism makes a reference to the designated passage, but does not comment on it at all.3 Even K.  Tomashitz, in his most comprehensive analysis of all the array of written tradition concerning Celtic migrations, in a strange way completely omits this passage.4 This contradiction passes unnoticed both in the monographs on Galatian history as a whole (both old and relatively new ones)5 Frazer 1898. Incidentally, Frazer’s translation, ‘…the Celts crossed into Asia’ is the only variant where the disputed word is merely omitted, which, however, does not give the right sense for the understanding (see below). 2  Habicht 1985. 3  Ameling 1996: 154; the part of article entitled ‘Fallbeispiel: Der Galatereinfall (I 4; X 19, 523, 14)’ is quite thorough (S.  117160), but deals mainly with the interpretation of parallelism in the description of two battles at Thermopylae by Pausanias and Herodotus. 4  Tomaschitz 2002: 142-175 (on the Galatians’ crossing to Anatolia, with analysis of other passages by Pausanias). 5  Stähelin 1907: 6-8; Nachtergael 1977; Mitchell 1993: 15-17; Strobel 1996: 236-252. 1 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 148–151

Paus. X. 23. 14 on the Galatians’ Passage to Asia

and in its meticulous article on the crossing of Galatians to Asia.6

with confidence: ‘This seems not have been noticed by scholars and has the direct implication that the Galatae were already in Anatolia and had joined Brennus in his attack on Delphi… There can be no doubt [sic!  – O.G.] that Pausanias was indicating that the Galatae attacking Delphi received help from the Galatae in Anatolia’10  – a splendid illustration indeed of post-modernist ‘deconstruction of narrative’ (and of common sense for that matter)! D. Campbell’s arguments in favour of the Celts’ earlier presence in Asia Minor are strikingly far-fetched and contradict the source information and all conceptions concerning the history of the Galatians, both traditional and the most recent ones; but, nevertheless, let us examine them in detail.

Only in two recent studies has an attempt been made to give at least some interpretation of the Greek writer’s incomprehensible phrase. It is D. Boteva who has paid heed to the phrase (translated by W.H.S.  Jones), but she confined herself to saying that ‘it is impossible to explain what Pausanias meant but we have to be aware of this fact’.7 One year earlier, D.  Campbell also tried to interpret this moot sentence in his doctoral thesis.8 This is the only, as far as I know, attempt to provide a really sound explanation of these mysterious words, but, unfortunately, as we shall see, it was a bad idea. The answer given by D. Campbell is quite unexpected: according to his view, a fair number of Celts had already been in Asia Minor earlier than 278/277 BC!9 In his attempt to understand how the Galatians, who, as Livy informs, were not so numerous  – only 20,000, including barely 10,000 warriors (XXXVIII. 16. 2; 9)  – succeeded in reaching Asia, where, in the course of intensive military activities and ravaging, they finally established their own ‘tribal state’ in the centre of the peninsula, D.  Campbell proceeds from Pausanias’ passage in question as well. The British scholar states

The further reasoning provided by D.  Campbell about similarities of material cultures of the early Iron Age in eastern Europe and western Asia Minor, which he mentions en masse and in a very general way, and which, as he believes, may serve as evidence of the early presence of the Celts in Anatolia,11 cannot fail to baffle one even more: there is no possible ground to bind either of them with the Celts (or, for that matter, ‘protoCelts’). Unsubstantiated are his assertions that the Celts might have been mercenaries in the army of Alexander the Great (Strabo. VII. 3. 8; Arr. Anab. I. 4. 68);12 even if it had been true (although the sources are tacit about it), what can make one assume that they could have settled in Anatolia as early as 334 BC (when the GreekMacedonian army just crossed the peninsula)?13 And how great in number should they have been to allow their descendants, who must have preserved their identity(!), a half century later to become numerous enough to form a real ‘fifth column’ when the Galatians invaded Greece in 279 and Asia Minor in 287/277 BC?!14

Moraux 1957. At one time, I also overlooked the problem lurking in Pausanias’ words in question here (Gabelko 2006). 7  Boteva 2010: 46. The Bulgarian researcher further notes that the Galatians defeated by Antigonus Gonatas in 278 or 277 BC might have also crossed to Asia ‘following an itinerary which remains so far unclear’ (4748). This hypothesis seems completely unfounded: the sources do not contain the slightest indication thereof. 8  Campbell 2009. This work on the whole deserves a comment. In the title given by the author, the word ‘Galatae’ (a strange marginal form instead of the usual ‘Galatians’) goes together with the definition ‘so-called’, which implies that the author belonged to the so-called ‘Celtoskeptics’, a school that questions, if not denies outright, the very existence of ancient Celts as an ethnic and cultural entity; see the criticism of such an approach: Rodway 2010. Moreover, Campbell’s work is steeped in the tradition of, so to speak, ‘militant post-modernism’, which reveals itself, first of all, in his hypercritical attitude to the Greek and Roman written tradition; he asserts, for example: ‘With such an accretion of facts, suppositions, factoids, interpretations, and hypotheses, we are unlikely to retrieve a view closer to the actual events by treating the modern narrative as a palimpsest; therefore, it is essential to deconstruct the narrative back to the original primary sources’ (Campbell 2009: 23-26). The combination of such truly ‘extremist’ approaches, together with his utter disdain for the contemporary historiography (for example, D.  Campbell does not use new and comprehensive monographs by K.  Strobel and K.  Tomaschitz mentioned above, while without them writing a work complying with modern requirements on the history of the Galatians is simply not possible), results in a series of utterly ungrounded conclusions and turns his work into a genuine historiographic sham. 9  Campbell 2009: 273. A similar hypothesis concerning the early Celtic presence in Anatolia (without any connection with the events of the 280s270s BC), however, was put forward much earlier by the French scholar B.  Sergent, who, unlike his British counterpart, drawing solely upon the evidence of toponymy and onomastics of Asia Minor, ranks almost all ancient peoples of Anatolia among the Celts, and postulates that the Celts had inhabited this area since the 7th (! – O.G.) century BC (without giving himself the trouble of finding any archaeological and historical evidence to prove it): Sergent 1988. D. Campbell did not read this work (and that, in my opinion, gives him even less credit); other historians have not taken this extravagant idea seriously; see Mitchell, 1993: 13, n. 5. 6 

Campbell 2009: 273. Campbell 2009: 274-276. 12  Campbell 2009: 276. See the work on the encounter of Alexander with the Celts on the Danube during his northern Balkan campaign of 335 BC (unsurprisingly, Campbell is unaware of it too): Alessandri 1997. Individual diplomatic contact prior to recruiting mercenaries among the Celts is viewed here as only theoretically admissible (p. 148), and certainly no far-reaching conclusions should be based on it. Strabo reports that ‘on this expedition [against the tribes of Triballi and Getae. – O.G.] Celti who lived about the Adriatic joined Alexander for the sake of establishing friendship and hospitality’ (transl. by H.L.  Jones), but, to all appearances, he speaks here of a purely diplomatic move (Arrian tells of Celtic envoys’ activities) and none of the sources contains reports of any participation of Celtic warriors in the Macedonian king’s campaigns. 13  D.  Campbell does not take the trouble to provide evidence indicating when exactly and under what circumstances Alexander’s Celtic mercenaries could have found themselves in Asia Minor; following his way of reasoning, this very reconstruction might seem the most probable. A return of those ‘Celtic mercenaries’ from some distant regions of Asia Minor at a later stage of Alexander’s campaign – rather unlikely per se – leaves the question why they would have settled nowhere but in Anatolia (and in which of its parts specifically?) and remained a rather compact community with its own ethnic awareness and even well-defined military and political plans. 14  And how well-coordinated the two Celtic communities residing on the Danube and somewhere in Asia Minor must have been to be able to launch a joint expedition to Delphi, Brennus’ plans being originally 10  11 


Oleg Gabelko In conclusion, Campbell draws upon the travel writings made by erudite English observers in the late 19th century15 to expound the absence of a pronounced Celtic culture (i.e. its identity between that of Anatolia and, first of all, that of Phrygia). The author must have been unaware of the subsequent archeological excavations in Galatia and interpretations of their results.16 Thus his attempt to find a real historical content in Pausanias’ phrase based on the report that the Galatians actually ‘crossed back to Asia’ (that they had supposedly inhabited earlier) proves absolutely untenable: in fact, he should not have done it at all.

group of people who were acting after a certain event – ‘they, who did something after something’ (here, during the time following the Galatian campaigns in Greece). Admittedly, such usage of this phrase occurs very rarely; LSJ gives only one clear example of oƒ aâqij, which, according to Sextus Empiricus (Adv. Math. I. 53), could mean ‘posterity’, ‘descendants’.19 In Paus. X. 23. 14, however, this expression should be understood differently: the Galatians’ ‘descendants’ are certainly out of the question here as the passage enumerates events that happened one after another within a rather short period of time. Here this wording must imply ‘the rest of (all) the Celts (invaded Greece)’, who crossed to Asia a year after the defeat nearby Delphi;20 we may well assume in the context of these events that it could have a more pejorative meaning of ‘epigones’ or ‘scum’. So, the ‘mystery’ of Pausanias’ words appears deceptive, and the selection of words by ancient authors, on the whole, reveals new nuances.

Evidently, this situation calls for a more satisfactory treatment of Pausanias’ passage from a philological point of view, and this could be achieved without serious difficulties if we remember that the adverb aâqij has different meanings and connotations. It is clear, first of all, that in this case this word is used in its temporal, and not spatial, meaning. Thus, surely aâqij must be understood without a reference to ‘back again’. The adverbs ‘again’ or ‘anew’ should also be ruled out, since these words presuppose an earlier presence of the Celts in Anatolia as well (see above). Obviously, one should see a reference to the future here – ‘hereafter’, according to LSJ;17 this, however, solves the problem only in part (see below). Pausanias uses the word aâqij, according to TLG corpus, 187 times, and, of course, in its various meanings. Yet this concrete wording enjoys a special status. All the renderings cited above are wrong as they misinterpret the article oƒ, which explicitly indicates that the adverb is used here in its substantivized form18 and therefore designates a

Abbrevations AS Anatolian Studies. Ankara. IstMitt Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts. Istanbulische Abteilung. Tübingen. LSJ A Greek-English Lexicon. Completed by Henry George Liddel and Robert Scott. Revised and augmented by Sir Henry Stuart Jones with the assistance of Roderick McKenzie and with cooperation of many scholars. With a revised supplement. Oxford, 1996. MH Museum Helveticum. Museum Helveticum: schweizerische Zeitschrift für klassische Altertumswissenschaft. Basel. REA Revue des études anciennes. Talence.

far from obvious?! As it seems, this coordination would have required a well-functioning cellular network. As an example, suggesting the desire to establish coordination of this kind (between Asian and European Galatians) S. Mitchell regards the story of Memnon (FGrHist 434 F. 20. 1): ‘Those Galatians beyond the Pontus… entertained a great desire to try to acquire access to the sea [present author’s italics] and set out to seize Heraclea’ (Mitchell 1993, 21). But, nevertheless, another explanation seems more likely: the Galatians strove to reach the coast, for they knew very well that it was there that the largest and richest Greek cities were – that they hoped to sack; cf. Liv. XXXVIII. 16. 3; 12; Paus. X. 15. 3; Zosim. II. 37. 20-21. 15  Campbell 2009: 277-280. 16  See, for example: Nixon 1971; Bittel 1976; Darbyshire et al. 2000; Strobel 2002; Yörükan 2009; see especially the latest work by Coşkun (2014) (containing an extensive list of references, most of which must have been available to D. Campbell before 2009). 17  LSJ (P. 276 s.v. aâqij lists the following meanings: I. Of place: back, back again; II. Of time: 1. again, anew; 2. in turn; 3. Of future time: hereafter; III. Of sequence: in turn; on the other hand. At first sight, the problem may be eliminated if we attach the meaning of ‘on the other hand, in their turn’ to the word – at least this would rule out the ‘return’ to Asia. But this expression on the whole seems rather meaningless in this context, as the preceding words contain nothing to make the author resort to drawing comparisons with the Galatians’ move to Asia ‘in their turn’ – after what?). More importantly, this understanding of the text (and ‘hereafter’ as well) throw no light on the use of the article οἱ at the beginning of the phrase either; this will be treated in more detail immediately below. 18  The same expression oƒ d aâqij is used in passage IX. 3. 17, but there is no difficulty of understanding it here: ‘Then they [the representatives of the Boeotian cities – O.G.] cast a lot…’ etc.: there is no substantivized adverb here.

Bibliography Alessandri, S. 1997. Alessandro Magno e i Celti, MH 54: 131157. LSJ. P. 276 s.v. aâqij It may well be that the case in question here was not taken into account because of the particle δέ, that wormed its way between the article and the participle, which, however, does not at all affect the meaning of the phrase. 20  This may be taken as an indication that the Celts who crossed into Asia were those Galatians who had taken part in Brennus’ expedition to Delphi; and that does not reflect reality: it is well-known that Anatolia appeared the destination for the barbarian troops led by Leonnorius and Lutarius, who had split off from Brennus’ army as early as all the Galatians reached Dardania (Liv. XXXVIII. 16. 2-13). Pausanias might have certainly been mistaken in that belief, but, to all appearances, most of the Celts who had survived ‘Apollo’s punishment’ crossed to the north, led by a certain Bathanatus to form a tribal alliance of the Scordisci (Poseidon. FGrHist 87 F 48 ap. Athen. VI. 24:  234, a-c); cf. Tomaschitz 2002: 128-130; Šašel Kos 2005: 136-141. Moreover, Pausanias himself (who must have been unaware of the better fortune of Bathanatus’ comrades; see Šašel Kos 2005: 138) speaks several lines above of the total annihilation of Brennus’ Galatians returning from Delphi (Х. 23. 13; it is common topos of ancient tradition; cf. Diod. XXII. 9. 3; Iust. XXIV. 8. 16). In all probability, the Periegetes in X. 23. 14 sees all Galatians, who invaded the Balkans and Greece, collectively without distinguishing between them. 19 


Paus. X. 23. 14 on the Galatians’ Passage to Asia

Ameling, W. 1996: Pausanias und die hellenistische Geschichte, in O.  Reverdin, B.  Grange, J.  Bingen (eds). Pausanias historien. Entretiens sur l’antiquité classique. T. XLI: 117-160. Genève. Bittel, K. 1976. Die Galater in Kleinasien, archäologisch gesehen, in D.M. Pippidi (ed.) Assimilation et résistance à la culture gréco-romaine dans le monde ancien. Travaux du VIe Congrès International d’Études Classiques (Madrid, Septembre 1974): 241-240. Paris. Boteva, D. 2010. The Ancient Historians on the Celtic Kingdom in South-Eastern Thrace, in L. Vagalinski and S. Rodway (eds) In Search of Celtic Tylis in Thrace (III C. BC). Proceedings of the Interdisciplinary Colloquium arranged by the National Archaeological Institute and Museum at Sofia and the Welsh Department, Aberystwyth University held at the National Archaeological Institute and Museum Sofia, 8 May 2010: 33-50. Sofia. Campbell, D.R.J. 2009. The So-Called Galatae, Celts and Gauls in the Early Hellenistic Balkans and the Attack on Delphi in 280-279 BC. Dissertation, University of Leicester. Coşkun, A. 2014. Latène-Artefakte im hellenistischen Kleinasien: ein problematisches Kriterium für die Bestimmung der ethnischen Identität(en) der Galater. IstMitt. Bd. 64. S: 129-162. Darbyshire, G., Mitchell, S., Vardar, L. 2000. The Galatian Settlement in Asia Minor. AS 50: 75-97. Frazer, J.G. (transl.) 1898. Commentary: Pausanias’s Description of Greece. In six volumes. Vol. V. London/ New York. Gabelko, O. 2006. ‘Phaennis’ Oracle’ (Zosim. II. 36-37) and the Galatians’ Passage to Asia Minor, in E. Olshausen and H. Sonnabend (eds) ‘Troianer sind wir gewesen’ – Migrationen in der antiken Welt. Stuttgarter Kolloquium zur Historischen Geographie des Altertums 8, 2002: 211228. Geographica Historica. Band 21. Stuttgart. Habicht, C. 1985. Pausanias’ Guide to Ancient Greece. Berkeley/Los Angeles/London.

Mitchell, S. 1993. Anatolia. Land, Men and Gods in Asia Minor. Vol.  I. The Celts in Anatolia and the Impact of Roman Rule. Oxford. Moraux, P. 1957. L’établissement des Galates en Asie Mineure. IstMitt. Bd. 7: 56-75. Nachtergael, G. 1977. Les Galates en Grèce et les Sôtéria de Delphes. Bruxelles. Nixon, L.F. 1971. The Archaeological Records of the Galatians in Anatolia. Dissertation, University of Vancouver. Rodway, S. 2010. Celtic – Definitions, Problems and Controversies, in L. Vagalinski and S. Rodway (eds) In Search of Celtic Tylis in Thrace (III C. BC). Proceedings of the Interdisciplinary Colloquium arranged by the National Archaeological Institute and Museum at Sofia and the Welsh Department, Aberystwyth University held at the National Archaeological Institute and Museum Sofia, 8 May 2010: 9-32. Sofia. Šašel Kos, M. 2005. Appian and Illiricum. Ljubljana. Sergent, B. 1988. Les premiers Celtes d’Anatolie, REA. T. XC. No. 3-4: 329-358. Stähelin, F. 1907. Geschichte der Kleinasiatischen Galater. Leipzig. Strobel, K. 1996. Die Galater. Geschichte und Eigenart der keltischen Staatenbildung auf dem Boden des hellenistischen Kleinasien. Bd.  1. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte und historischen Geographie der hellenistischen und römischen Kleinasien I. Berlin. Strobel, K. 2002. State Formation by the Galatians of Asia Minor. Politico-Historical and Cultural Processes in Hellenistic Central Anatolia. Anatolica, Vol. XXVIII:1-44. Tomaschitz, K. 2002. Die Wanderungen der Kelten in der antiken literarischen Überlieferung. Wien. Yörükan, G. 2009. A Study of Celtic/Galatian Impacts on the Settlement Pattern in Anatolia before the Roman Era. Dissertation, Middle East Technical University, Ankara.


Les chrétiens d’Asie Mineure et l’évangélisation du Barbaricum danubien (IIIe-IVe siècles). Des relations assez mal connues Attila Jakab* Le fil rouge de l’histoire générale du christianisme est la progression de la christianisation du monde méditerranéen, de l’Europe, puis du monde. Aujourd’hui, les analyses et les reconstitutions historiques sont attentives à la périodisation, à la régionalisation et à la contextualisation sociopolitico-culturelle. Une prochaine étape doit envisager, d’une manière sans doute beaucoup plus approfondie, les connexions et les interactions des régions christianisées, ou celles des communautés chrétiennes de diverses contrées. Dans ce sens, l’étude à nouveau frais des relations entre les chrétiens d’Asie Mineure et du Bas Danube dans l’Antiquité Tardive pourrait/peut constituer un intéressant laboratoire méthodologique. D’autant plus que cela met aussi en exergue le rapport entre un ‘centre’ (relatif, mais bien connu) et une ‘périphérie’ longtemps délaissée par la recherche. Depuis quelques années cependant, le christianisme du Bas Danube bénéficie d’un certain et heureux regain d’intérêt de la part des chercheurs italiens et roumains. Leurs travaux permettent de renouveler notre savoir qui doit désormais interpréter ensemble les données des sources littéraires, épigraphiques et archéologiques. Dans cette perspective faire le point de la question de l’évangélisation du Barbaricum danubien aux IIIeIVe siècles ne signifie pas tant de livrer des résultats, mais plutôt d’agencer nos connaissances et de mettre ainsi en relief de nouvelles pistes de recherches, pluridisciplinaires de préférence. Une plus grande attention accordée aux enjeux politiques et de juridiction, aux processus de constructions identitaires, ou encore à la problématique de la territorialité contribuera sans doute à une meilleure intelligence du passé. Ainsi, l’agencement à la fois de l’histoire politique, sociale et culturelle et de l’histoire doctrinale et institutionnelle du christianisme ancien de l’époque et des régions en question permettra de mieux inscrire le développement du christianisme et des églises dans le processus de l’histoire générale. De surcroît, il faudra également accorder plus d’attention au fait que les désaccords doctrinaux au sein du christianisme ancien vont bien au-delà de *

Civitas Europica Centralis, Szél u. 3-5 A/2/2, H – 1035 – Budapest.

simples différences d’interprétation de la foi identique qui ont pu sévir au cours de l’élaboration d’une doctrine commune, normative pour tous. Ces divergences s’enracinent en réalité dans des spécificités culturelles et sociales qu’on ne peut pas négliger. Sans rien dire du fait que la diversité des formes du christianisme ancien a eu des conséquences politiques, sociales et culturelles non seulement à l’époque même, mais aussi dans l’avenir proche et lointain de la période traitée. L’espace géographique La région du Bas Danube est constituée par les deux rives du fleuve, entre les Carpates et les Balkans, allant du célèbre défilé des Portes de Fer jusqu’à la mer Noire. Elle a toujours été un espace de confluence par excellence des peuples, des cultures et des religions. Aux IIIe siècle, sur la rive gauche du Bas Danube, s’étendait le Barbaricum, tandis que sur la rive droite lui faisait face l’empire romain tant convoité, avec une langue, une culture, une structure socio-politicoadministrative toute différente. Mais, contrairement aux apparences, la frontière impériale ne cloisonnait pas la région. En dépit d’un regard superficiel jeté depuis le Nord, la péninsule balkanique romaine semblait seulement être homogène. Elle ne l’était point. La raison est simple. D’un point de vue administratif et linguistique l’Orient grec et l’Occident latin se rencontrèrent dans les Balkans. De même, l’empire romain et le Barbaricum se rencontrèrent sur le Bas Danube. De ce fait, les échanges et les différenciations y étaient constamment présents, tandis que les diverses frontières ne cessèrent de fluctuer. Tout cela se reflète également dans le processus de christianisation à l’œuvre dans cette région très exposée aux actions militaires et aux mouvements de populations. Convergeant avec les autres régions de l’empire, le christianisme y apparaît aussi comme un phénomène très largement urbain (Noviodunum, Durostorum, Tomi en Scythie Mineure). Il y restera cantonné pratiquement dans toute l’Antiquité Tardive. Mais, en raison du mode de vie des populations dites ‘barbares’, il y présentera cependant d’autres formes, adaptées à cette organisation sociale.

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Les chrétiens d’Asie Mineure et l’évangélisation du Barbaricum danubien (IIIe-IVe siècles)

à Rome, en Gaule (avec Irénée de Lyon), à Antioche et en Afrique du Nord (avec Tertullien devenu montaniste). Pourquoi ? Pour la simple raison qu’elle devance au moins d’un bon demi-siècle la théologie alexandrine. Celle-ci n’exercera son influence qu’à partir de la seconde moitié du IIIe siècle, et marquera de son empreinte la Cappadoce. À la lumière de cette différence théologique, profondément ancrée dans les esprits, il est peut-être plus facile de saisir les racines des conflits de pouvoir qui opposeront plus tard Alexandrie à Constantinople (et Antioche).

Christianisation Pour étudier le christianisme de la région du Bas Danube, le point de départ reste toujours l’ouvrage de référence de J. Zeiler (1967). Aucune monographie n’est venue encore pour le remplacer. C’est ce que montrent les volumes 2 et 3 de la collection de l’Histoire du christianisme des origines à nos jours (Pietri et Pietri 1995; Pietri, L. 1998), le volume intitulé The Cambridge History of Christianity (Casiday et Norris 2007), et l’ouvrage de synthèse de Pierre Maraval (2005). Le premier pas à faire dans l’élaboration d’une nouvelle synthèse articulée et approfondie serait sans doute la réalisation d’un inventaire intégral des sources (littéraires, archéologiques et épigraphiques) disponibles et d’un répertoire bibliographique aussi complet que possible des travaux des différentes disciplines consacrés aux divers sujets concernant la région du Bas Danube. Cela permettrait aussi de mettre à profit les résultats de la recherche roumaine et bulgare (Vagalinski, Sharankov, Torbatov 2012) ; rétablissant ainsi un certain équilibre dans la recherche du christianisme ancien, caractérisée par un occidentalocentrisme avéré.

Au sujet du christianisme du Bas Danube à cette époque, nous avons une très mince référence, mais qui représente néanmoins un grand intérêt. Dans une lettre, rapportée par l’historien ecclésiastique Eusèbe de Césarée (HE 5, 19, 3), l’évêque Sérapion d’Antioche (dernière décennie du second siècle) parle d’évêques de deux églises. Il y nomme d’abord l’évêque de Débelte (aujourd’hui le village de Develt, à 25 km de Burgas), Aelius Publius Iulius, qui a signé également la lettre ayant dans sa ligne de mire la Nouvelle Prophétie (c’està-dire le montanisme). Puis, il mentionne l’évêque d’Anchialos (aujourd’hui Pomorie, plus au nord), ‘le bienheureux Sotas’. D’après le témoignage de Sérapion, ce dernier ‘a voulu chasser le démon de Priscilla, et les hypocrites ne l’ont pas permis’ (Eusèbe de Césarée 2003: 292).

Il va de soi que le canevas chronologique qui s’impose commence avec le second siècle. Auparavant on reste plutôt dans des récits, dont l’historicité laisse beaucoup à désirer. Nous pouvons affirmer que l’apôtre Paul n’a jamais franchi les Balkans, et rien ne prouve que l’apôtre André aurait réellement évangélisé la Thrace et la Scythie Mineure, avant de périr à Patras. Le récit des Actes apocryphes d’André, qui relate cette activité missionnaire, est davantage une légende qu’un compte rendu historique (Prieur 1989).

Pourquoi cette lettre est-elle si importante pour la région du Bas Danube ? Parce qu’elle montre plusieurs choses à la fois. Dans les dernières décennies du second siècle, il y avait déjà des communautés chrétiennes organisées en Thrace, au bord de la Mer Noire. Elles entretenaient des rapports avec d’autres églises, notamment d’Asie Mineure, d’où le montanisme (depuis la Phrygie) s’est sans doute implanté chez elles. C’étaient des églises doctrinalement diversifiées, dans lesquelles les rapports de force n’étaient pas toujours favorables à la tendance ‘orthodoxe’. Ainsi, l’évêque Sotas d’Anchialos était pratiquement impuissant devant les chrétiens montanistes.

À vrai dire, en ce moment l’histoire du christianisme dans l’ensemble des Balkans, entre l’activité de Paul à Corinthe et Thessalonique et l’arrivée au pouvoir de Constantin, reste assez mal connue. Cette ‘périphérie’ n’a jamais été au centre de l’attention. On s’est toujours contenté de dire que nous n’avions pas de sources. Mais les a-t-on réellement cherchées ?

Que sont devenues par la suite ces églises? Impossible de le dire. Il semble en tout cas que le Bas Danube n’était pas concerné par les persécutions déclenchées sous Dèce (249-250) et Valérien (257-258) par le pouvoir impérial.

Au second siècle nous assistons au développement du christianisme dans la partie occidentale de l’Asie Mineure (Éphèse, Hiérapolis, Smyrne, Sardes). C’est de là que la christianisation progresse vers l’Est, suivant l’urbanisation et l’hellénisation en Phrygie, Galatie et Cappadoce. La théologie ‘asiate’ élaborée présente des accents christologiques (individualité du Fils, adoption, l’incarnation du divin en chair humaine) et diffère assez fortement de la théologie alexandrine, beaucoup plus ‘philosophique’ (défense de la monarchie divine et de la transcendance de l’Unique). Il est toutefois utile et intéressant de noter que c’est plutôt la théologie ‘asiate’ qui exerce son influence dans le bassin méditerranéen  :

Après les raids des Goths en Asie (257-258), un contingent relativement important et diversifié de chrétiens (clercs et laïcs) arriva de Cappadoce au Bas Danube parmi les prisonniers,1 dont les grandsparents d’Ulfila/Ulfilas. De toute évidence, les Goths leur permirent de s’organiser religieusement et de transmettre la foi chrétienne à leurs descendants. 1 


Voir Sozomène, HE 2, 6, 1-3; Philostorge, HE 2, 5.

Attila Jakab Même si l’évêque Théophile de Gothie était venu probablement de Crimée au concile de Nicée (325), cela corrobore néanmoins la tolérance religieuse qui devait régner dans le pays des Goths.

Une Église impériale organisée Même si les origines du christianisme de la péninsule balkanique se perdent dans le brouillard de l’Histoire, rien n’empêche qu’à partir du IVe siècle émerge une Église structurée et bien organisée. C’est ainsi que des villes importantes deviennent également des centres chrétiens influents. C’est le cas de Sirmium (en Pannonie II), dont les évêques sont surtout des ariens ou des semi-ariens. Cela explique sans doute pourquoi l’empereur Constance II (337-361), maître unique d’un empire réunifié qui a imposé l’arianisme comme religion d’État (en 359), y séjourna presque sans interruption entre 353 et 361.

En 270-271, l’empereur Aurélien a évacué militairement et administrativement la Dacie, il a reporté le limes sur le Danube, et a cédé aux Goths les territoires au Nord du fleuve.2 Il est intéressant de noter que s’il y a eu des persécutions sous Dioclétien (entre 303 et 305) dans le Norique, en Dalmatie et en Pannonie, le Bas Danube n’a été qu’assez peu touché. Pourtant des communautés chrétiennes existaient à Marcianopolis et à Durostorum (auj. Silistra). Était-ce parce qu’on voulait éviter des troubles au sein des troupes qui gardaient une frontière constamment sous pression ? Cela reste à vérifier !

On peut encore mentionner les villes principales de la Dacie Méditerranéenne, Naissus (Nis) et Remesiana (Bela Palanka), ainsi que Singidunum (Beograd) et Viminacium (Kostolatz) en Dacie Riveraine. Le personnage le plus important est l’évêque Nicéta de Remesiana, auteur de quelques ouvrages théologiques ou pastorales (Instructions aux catéchumènes) en langue latine, qui déploya une intense activité missionnaire aussi dans la région du Bas Danube. Somme toute, elle reste toujours assez mal connue.

Quoi qu’il en soit, il est très important d’un point de vue méthodologique qu’on différencie clairement les martyrs sous l’empereur Licinius (entre 320 et 323) de ceux martyrisés sous Dioclétien, car il faut indubitablement tenir compte de la dégradation des relations entre Licinius et Constantin, qui allaient vers une confrontation armée. De même, il faut distinguer à la fois les martyrs militaires avant (vers 298 par ex.) et après les édits de persécution, ainsi que les martyrs ‘civils’. Car il y a fort à parier qu’avant les édits il s’agît essentiellement d’infractions à la discipline militaire ;3 tandis que l’absence ou le très faible nombre des martyrs ‘civils’ peut aussi témoigner de la petitesse de l’église du lieu.

En plus des évêchés, dont on connaît l’existence, les nombreuses inscriptions découvertes, en latin et en grec, témoignent également d’un passé chrétien peut-être beaucoup plus important que ne le laisse entendre pour le moment l’état actuel de la recherche.

Il est également nécessaire d’avoir en vue qu’en ce temps Constantin mena plusieurs campagnes contre les Goths (315, 323, 324), sans obtenir cependant une victoire définitive. Qui plus est, il a même dû se résoudre à les admettre au service de l’empire (traité de 332).

Il faudra probablement accorder plus d’attention au fait que même si la Thrace (subdivisée par Dioclétien en six provinces: Scythie, Mésie Inférieure, Hémimont, Thrace, Rhodope, Europe) était très faiblement représentée au concile de Nicée, moins de deux décennies après ce fut à Sardique, à la frontière de l’Orient et de l’Occident, qu’un autre concile a eu lieu (en 343) pour tenter de résoudre le conflit arien. De nombreux évêques des Balkans et de la région du Moyen et du Bas Danube (surtout d’Illyricum), des ‘Occidentaux’, souvent de langue et de culture grecques, qui acceptaient la formule homoousios, y participèrent. Cela témoigne d’une intense activité de fondation d’évêchés à cette époque. Pratiquement au même moment, les évêques hostiles à la formule d’homoousios, les ‘Orientaux’ (dont Basile d’Ancyre et Acace de Césarée de Palestine), ont tenu un contresynode à Philippopolis. Ils y condamnaient ceux qui professaient trois Dieux, ceux qui soutenaient que le Christ n’est pas Dieu, mais aussi ceux qui disaient que le Fils est le même que le Père (les modalistes). Mais, contrairement aux ‘Occidentaux’, ils refusaient délibérément la communion avec Athanase d’Alexandrie, le champion de l’orthodoxie.

Tout cela se passait au moment où le christianisme entamait la voie du renforcement de son influence sociopolitique pour devenir finalement la nouvelle religion d’État de l’empire romain. Cependant, il n’a pas pu remplir le rôle qui lui avait été assigné; à savoir d’assurer l’unité et la cohésion de l’empire. En raison d’un conflit doctrinal capital au sujet de la divinité de Jésus Christ, l’Église était profondément divisée. C’était la crise arienne, que même le concile de Nicée n’a pu résoudre que théologiquement, mais pas du tout politiquement et socialement. Comme l’État et l’Église devenaient de plus en plus enchevêtrés, le pouvoir politique n’a pu échapper au fait d’être profondément impliqué dans le conflit entre les diverses tendances. 2  3 

Pour une vue d’ensemble voir Heather 1997; Kulikowski 2007. Voir Jakab 2013: 477-496.


Les chrétiens d’Asie Mineure et l’évangélisation du Barbaricum danubien (IIIe-IVe siècles)

L’orthodoxie, à son tour, était représentée par l’évêque de Tomi, Vetranion/Bretanion,5 qui envoya également des missionnaires chez les Goths, vers 369. D’après le témoignage des lettres (155, 164, 165, 269) de Basile de Césarée, ils entretenaient de très bonnes relations. Il faut dire que l’un des successeurs de Vetranion/ Bretanion, l’évêque Théotime,6 avait également à cœur la conversion des Goths.

Le christianisme et les Goths À l’inverse de l’Église impériale de la péninsule balkanique qui est relativement mal connue et assez peu explorée par la recherche, le thème central du christianisme de la région du Bas Danube a toujours été l’implantation de la foi en Jésus le Christ chez les Goths installés au nord du fleuve. Chronologiquement nous avons affaire à une période allant des années 330 à environ 382, quand l’empereur Théodose le Grand installe les Goths en Thrace; en leur cédant effectivement le territoire.

Ces missions sont intervenues à un moment où les relations entre les Goths et l’empire se détérioraient progressivement (dès 365). Finalement, le iudex Athanaric déclencha une persécution contre les chrétiens, afin de resserrer la cohésion de son peuple (Jérôme, Chronique, ann. 369; Ammien Marcellin 27, 5, 9; Orose 7, 32, 9). On peut même se poser la question : les missions n’y ont-elles pas joué un rôle certain ?

Le personnage clé de l’histoire est incontestablement Ulfila/Ulfilas (311-383), lecteur et membre d’une ambassade envoyée à la cour de Constantin (entre 332 et 337), avant d’être sacré évêque (341) ‘en pays gétique’ (Philostorge 2, 5) par Eusèbe (dit de Nicomédie), évêque arien de Constantinople. Ce qui explique aussi pourquoi les Goths ont embrassé la forme arienne du christianisme. À cette époque, c’était la religion chrétienne des empereurs (Constantin le Grand et Constance II) à Constantinople.

D’après les documents de l’époque, la persécution fit des victimes. Les Passions des martyrs nous révèlent que les chrétiens en pays goth furent surtout d’origines très diverses (Goths, Cappadociens, Phrygiens, Syriens) et d’appartenance sociale humble (Delehaye 1912: 161300; Nigro 2012: 201-220). Tout cela montre à quel point le Bas Danube était en relation avec l’Asie Mineure d’un point de vue chrétien, depuis près de deux siècles. D’ailleurs, les restes de l’un de ces martyrs, de Saint Sabas (Duval 2008: 75-83; Girardi 2009: 279-294; 2009; 2011: 81-104; 2012: 117-141), connurent une translatio à Césarée de Cappadoce (Girardi 2004: 157-171). On peut donc se demander quels furent les antécédents puis les suites de cette relation entre le christianisme du Bas Danube et d’Asie Mineure (surtout la Cappadoce), qui culminait sans conteste dans le rapport entretenu par les évêques Vetranion/Bretanion de Tomi et Basile le Grand de Césarée de Cappadoce.

L’importance d’Ulfila/Ulfilas réside dans le fait novateur qu’il a tenté de créer une culture goth chrétienne et écrite. Il voulait faciliter et accélérer l’évangélisation par la création d’une littérature goth. Il nous est resté une traduction partielle du Nouveau Testament (évangiles et corpus paulinien), les restes d’un commentaire de l’évangile de Jean et le début d’un calendrier. Même si Ulfila/Ulfilas en 348, dans un moment de tension conflictuelle entre les Goths et l’empire, a bel et bien été obligé de se réfugier du Barbaricum en Romania, il n’a jamais cessé d’encourager l’expansion de l’arianisme chez les Goths. Ce qui a sans doute permis qu’après 380 cela puisse devenir une marque identitaire de différenciation des Goths christianisés par rapport à l’empire romain qui venait juste d’adopter la forme orthodoxe du christianisme comme religion de l’empire sous Théodose le Grand.

Parallèlement à cette persécution des chrétiens, nous assistons aussi à l’émergence d’un conflit interne chez les Goths qui opposa Athanaric et Fritigern. Les deux chefs avaient des stratégies radicalement opposées; tandis que la menace des Huns planait fatalement sur les Goths. Fritigern, passé à l’arianisme au plus tard en 374, cherchait l’appui de l’empereur Valens (364-378). C’est pourquoi il franchit le Danube avec la majorité des Wisigoths (Tervinges) et un bon nombre d’Ostrogoths (Greuthunges) en 376, afin de chercher refuge dans l’empire (notamment en Thrace); tandis qu’Athanaric – qui auparavant soutenait Procope, le rival de Valens –, avec une minorité de Wisigoths, s’est retiré en Crimée.

Mais l’arianisme et l’orthodoxie n’étaient pas les seules formes du christianisme en concurrence chez les Goths. Comme à l’époque l’empereur Constance II a envoyé l’hérétique Audius en exil en Scythie Mineure, celui-ci y a également développé une activité missionnaire fructueuse, et a établi des monastères sur la rive gauche du Danube (cf. Epiphane, Adv. Haer. 70, 14-15). Les audiens professaient surtout une théorie anthropomorphiste de Dieu, en soutenant que sa forme est littéralement égale à celle de l’homme.4

Voir Sozomène, HE 6, 21; Théodoret de Cyr, HE 4, 35, 1. Voir Sozomène, HE 7, 26, 6-9; Socrate de Constantinople, HE 6, 112; Jérôme, De viris illustribus 131 : ‘Theotimus, Scythiae Tomorum episcopus, in morem dialogorum et veteris eloquentiae breves commaticosque tractatus edidit. Auio eum et alia scribere.’ (E.C. Richardson (ed.) dans Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur 14 [Leipzig 1896: 54)]. 5  6 

Voir notamment Orlandi 1990: 296. Voir aussi Régnier 1931: 299300; Bareille 1931: 2265-2267; Puech 1950: 910-915; Rămureanu 1978: 1053-1070. 4 


Attila Jakab La conversion massive des Goths au christianisme arien – n’oublions pas qu’Ulfila/Ulfilas est toujours en vie ! – est incontestablement un gage de bonne volonté offerte à l’empereur Valens dans un moment de peur existentielle d’anéantissement de la population gothique. Nous pouvons donc parler, sans trop se tromper sur le résultat, d’une action ‘conjointe’ de Fritigern et de l’évêque Ulfila/Ulfilas.

Déboires de l’empire romain et fin du christianisme dans le Bas Danube Le Ve siècle, mouvementé d’un point de vue social et militaire, avec un gouvernement impérial faible à Constantinople (Théodose II, 408-450), était incontestablement défavorable au christianisme du Bas Danube. Si l’évêque de Tomi était encore présent au concile d’Éphèse (431), les évêques de l’Illyricum y furent déjà absents. Au concile de Chalcédoine (451), la liste des absents s’est allongée encore, comprenant aussi l’évêque de Tomi.

Mais la bonne entente entre les Goths et l’empire n’a pas duré trop longtemps. Ils se révoltèrent, et le 9 août 378 l’armée romaine fut défaite à Adrianopolis. L’empereur Valens y trouva la mort.

De plus, tout au long du Ve siècle la tension entre Rome et Constantinople ne cessa pas de s’accroître. La pomme de discorde était l’Illyricum, avec ses deux diocèses (Dacie au nord, Macédoine au sud). Attaché à l’empire d’Orient, il restait cependant sous la juridiction ecclésiastique de Rome qui l’administrait (dès le pape Sirice, 384-398) par l’intermédiaire de l’archevêque de Thessalonique. Mais, lors du schisme d’Acace (454-518) – probablement dès 482 – l’Illyricum s’est détaché de Rome. Pour compliquer encore la situation, si l’archevêque Dorothée se rallia à Timothée de Constantinople, 40 évêques en revanche restèrent fidèles à Rome. C’est donc dans ce contexte socio-politico-ecclésiastique qu’il va falloir chercher réponse à la question : qu’en fut-il du christianisme du Bas Danube, de Scythie Mineure et de la Thrace à cette époque où le territoire fut surtout sous le contrôle des Ostrogoths ?

Dans ces temps troublés, les évêques chrétiens ont néanmoins trouvé l’opportunité de tenir un concile à Sirmium, à l’initiative de Basile le Grand et du pape Damase, afin de condamner six évêques ariens de l’Illyricum (Polychronius, Télémac, Tauste, Asclépius, Amanttus et Cléopatros). De toute évidence Basile, évêque de Césarée de Cappadoce (†1 janvier 379), s’informait de tout ce qui se passait dans la péninsule balkanique. Même si l’empereur Théodose le Grand impose désormais le christianisme romain/orthodoxe/ nicéen comme la religion officielle unique de l’empire (l’édit Cunctos populos de 27 février 380), il ne peut pourtant rien contre les Goths ariens. Il les installe en Thrace. Après sa mort (en 395), les liens se distendent entre les Goths et l’empire. Mais Constantinople pourra se soulager. En 401, Alaric (le magister militum) décide d’attaquer l’Italie, et les Goths se mettent en mouvement vers l’Occident.

De toute évidence, le christianisme a pu y survivre. Car, au début de 519, arrive à Constantinople un groupe de moines scythes, dont Jean Maxence et Léonce (un parent de Vitalien, le magister militum praesentalis, qui se posait en rival potentiel de l’empereur Justin Ier), qui proposent une formule de conciliation (Unus de Trinitate passus est carne; c’està-dire un de la Trinité a souffert dans la chair; cf. coll. Avell. 141) à la controverse monophysite, tandis qu’ils se trouvent en conflit avec l’évêque Paternus de Tomi, qu’ils accusent de nestorianisme. Ce qui veut dire que les dissensions théologiques de la première moitié du Ve siècle étaient connues en Scythie Mineure. Mais, contrairement au IVe siècle, lorsque le christianisme fut davantage d’expression grecque, les moines scythes semblent être plus familiers avec le latin qu’avec le grec. Les questions qui se posent donc sont : quand et comment le monachisme s’est-il implanté dans la région du Bas Danube ? Où était-il la relation entre le christianisme de la Scythie Mineure (de la ville de Tomi) et d’Asie Mineure (surtout du Cappadoce) ?

Dans le vide ainsi laissé dans la région du Bas Danube déferlent différents peuples. D’abord les Huns, puis les Ostrogoths, avant de partir, eux aussi à leur tour, en 488, vers l’Italie, quasiment mandatés par l’empereur Zénon (474-491), pour y établir un royaume (493). Mais avant, au début du Ve siècle, Jean Chrysostome, patriarche de Constantinople, tenta une évangélisation des Goths afin de renforcer l’orthodoxie dans les Balkans.7 Il recruta un clergé (prêtres et diacres) capable de les instruire et consacra également un évêque de Gothie. Mais ses efforts ne furent nullement couronnés de succès. On peut toutefois se poser la question : la mémoire de cette tentative d’évangélisation des Goths dans leur propre langue par Ulfila/Ulfilas et Jean Chrysostome des siècles plus tard a-t-elle pu jouer un rôle dans la création de la culture ecclésiastique slave en vue de leur évangélisation ? 7 

Les moines ne restèrent pas longtemps à Constantinople. Ils partirent pour Rome, mais là le pape Hormisdas (514523) refusa de les voir. Toutefois leurs vues suscitèrent l’intérêt de Denys le Petit et de Fulgence de Ruspe. Peu

Théodoret de Cyr, HE 5, 31.


Les chrétiens d’Asie Mineure et l’évangélisation du Barbaricum danubien (IIIe-IVe siècles)

après l’assassinat de Vitalien (juillet 520), ils furent cependant expulsés de Rome (août). Dès lors, on perd leurs traces.

Au moment de la création de l’État bulgare, en 681, le christianisme semble avoir totalement disparu depuis quelques temps déjà de la région du Bas Danube.

Pendant ce temps (fin du Ve – début du VIe siècle), les Slaves franchissaient en masse le Danube et s’installaient dans tous les Balkans. Ils furent organisés par les Avars qui occupaient la Pannonie. 

Conclusion Que nous enseigne l’histoire mouvementée, et somme toute assez partiellement connue, du christianisme de la ‘périphérique’ péninsule balkanique ? Deux choses.

Étant donné que l’empereur Justinien (527-565) s’intéressait assez peu à la frontière danubienne, qui devenait de plus en plus perméable, la région commença à être isolée de Constantinople. C’est à travers l’organisation ecclésiastique que cela est particulièrement perceptible. La juridiction de l’archevêché de Justiniana Prima (Caricin Grad), fondée en 535, s’étendait sur la Dacie et la Macédoine Ière. N’empêche que les évêques de la Dacie restaient majoritairement pro-occidentaux et refusaient de participer au Ve concile œcuménique, IIe de Constantinople (553). C’est de là d’ailleurs que date notre dernière information sur l’existence de l’évêché de Tomi, et de son évêque de l’époque, Valentinien.

La recherche, la production du savoir moderne sur le passé est largement conditionnée et déterminée par le ‘centre’. Malgré les apparences, la christianisation de l’Europe n’est pas un processus linéaire, ininterrompu. Elle connaît des flux et des reflux, suivant les périodes et les régions. De toute évidence, le tout premier christianisme du Bas Danube n’a pas pu survivre aux déboires de l’Empire romain. Quand il y sera de nouveau réimplanté, dans un contexte socio-culturel différent, il ne s’agira plus d’un christianisme qui se construit d’en bas. Il sera avant tout une organisation ecclésiastique imposée à la population de par le haut. Mais l’implantation de ce christianisme politique est incontestablement une autre histoire.

La prise et la destruction de Sirmium par les Avars (en 582) marque le début d’une nouvelle ère dans l’ensemble de la péninsule balkanique. Nous pouvons parler d’une lente, mais sûre déchéance. Les centres ecclésiastiques, dont Pautalia (auj. Kjustendil), Messembria (chrétiens venus d’Asie Mineure), Aquae calidae, Deultum (auj. Develt), Sozopolis, Augusta Traiana (auj. Stara Zagora) et Philippopolis, sur lesquels nous renseignent surtout des inscriptions découvertes en grec et en latin, disparaîtront progressivement. Il va sans doute de même pour la Scythie Mineure. La revitalisation des Balkans et du Bas Danube n’interviendra pas avant le IXe siècle.

Bibliographie Bareille, G. 1931. Audiens, Dictionnaire de Théologie Catholique. T. I/2: 2265-2267. Paris. Casiday, A, Norris, F.W. (eds) 2007. Constantine to c. 600. Cambridge/New York. Delehaye, H. 1912. Saints de Thrace et de Mésie. Analecta Bollandiana 31: 161-300. Duval, Y.-M. 2008. La passion d’un martyr de Mésie: Sabas le Goth (334 – 12 avril 372), dans A. Cannelis et M. Furno (éds) L’Antiquité en ses confins. Mélanges offerts à Benoît Gain: 75-83. Recherches et Travaux. Hors-série n° 16. Grenoble. Eusèbe de Césarée, 2003. Histoire ecclésiastique. Introduction de François Richard. Traduction de G. Bardy revue par L Neyrand et une équipe. Sagesses chrétiennes, Cerf. Paris. Girardi, M. 2004. Basilio di Cesarea, la passio di s. Saba ‘il goto’ e la propagazione del cristianesimo nella regione del Basso Danubio fra III e IV secolo. Italia e Romania. Storia, Cultura e Civiltà a confronto a cura di S. Santelia: 157-171. Quaderni di ‘Invigilata Lucernis’ 21. Bari. Girardi, M. 2006. Gli ‘Sciti’ fra mito e storia nei Cappadoci. Classica et Christiana 1: 111-126. Girardi, M. 2009. La Passio del ‘goto’ Saba. Ideologia universalistica sui confini dell’Impero fra memoria storica e trasfigurazione biblica. Classica et Christiana 4/1: 279-294.

Nous pouvons même affirmer que la destruction de l’archevêché de Justiniana Prima au tout début du VIIe siècle peut être perçu comme le début de la fin de la première période du christianisme dans les Balkans. Beaucoup d’évêques vont s’enfuir, soit en Orient, soit en Occident, transportant avec eux les reliques des martyrs et des saints. Il serait sans doute utile de mieux étudier et cerner ce mouvement pour répertorier les lieux de refuge de prédilection de ces chefs d’églises. Car cela pourrait nous renseigner aussi sur les liens entretenus auparavant avec les églises d’autres régions. Il est plus qu’intéressant de voir que, n’ayant plus l’appui du pouvoir politique, l’Église – en suivant l’armée et l’administration – déserte tout simplement le territoire que l’empire avait perdu au temps de l’empereur Maurice (582-602). Elle n’y reviendra qu’à l’appel du pouvoir en quête de légitimation et d’alliances. 157

Attila Jakab Girardi, M. 2009. Saba il goto, martire di frontiera. Testo, traduzione e commento del dossier greco. Editura Universităţii ‘Al. I. Cuza. Iaşi. Girardi, M. 2011. La Passio Sabae Gothi (BHG 1607): il contributo di ricercatori romeni. Classica et Christiana 6/1: 81-104. Girardi, M. 2012. Dinamiche multietniche e interreligiose sul limes danubiano nel IV secolo: il martirio di Saba il goto. Classica et Christiana 7/1: 117-141. Heather, P. 1997. The Goths. Oxford/Cambridge, MA. Jakab, A. 2013. La « petite paix de l’Église ». Une période mal aimée des historiens du christianisme ancien. Classica et Christiana. Periodico annuale del Centro di Studi Classici e Cristiani della Facoltà di Storia dell’Università «Alexandru I. Cuza» di Iaşi 8/2: 477-496. Kulikowski, M. 2007. Rome’s Gothic Wars: from the third century to Alaric. Key conflicts of classical antiquity. New York. Limberis, V. 2011. Architects of piety: the Cappadocian Fathers and the cult of the martyrs. Oxford. Maraval, P. 20053. Le christianisme de Constantin à la conquête arabe. Paris. Nigro, G.A. 2012. Dinamiche multietniche e interreligiose oltre il limes danubiano: Niceta, Inna e altri martiri goti. Classica et Christiana 7/1: 201-220. Orlandi, T. 1990. Audiens, Dictionnaire Encyclopédique du Christianisme Ancien, Vol. 1. Paris. Philostorgius, 19813. Kirchengeschichte: mit dem Leben des Lucian von Antiochien und den Fragmenten eines arianischen Historiographen. Herausgegeben von Joseph BIDEZ. Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten Jahrhunderte. Berlin. Philostorgius, 2007. Church history. Translated with an introduction and commented by P.R. Amidon. Writings from the Greco-Roman world 23. Atlanta, GA. Pietri, L. 1998. Les Églises d’Orient et d’Occident. Histoire du Christianisme des origines à nos jours 3. Paris. Pietri, L. et Ch. 1995. Naissance d’une chrétienté (250-430). Histoire du Christianisme des origines à nos jours 2. Paris. Prieur, J.-M. 1989. Acta Andreae. 2 vol. Corpus Christianorum. Series Apocryphorum 5-6. Turnhout.

Puech, H.-Ch. 1950. Audianer. Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum. T. I: 910-915. Stuttgart. Rămureanu, I. 1978. Mişcarea audienilor în Dacia Pontică si nord-dunăreană (sec. IV-V). Biserica Ortodoxă Română 96/9-10: 1053-1070. Régnier, A. 1931. Audée, dans Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastiques. T.V. Paris. Socrate de Constantinople, 2006. Histoire ecclésiastique. Livres IV-VI. Texte grec de l’édition de G.C. Hansen (GCS). Traduction par Pierre Périchon et Pierre Maraval. Introduction et notes par Pierre Maraval. Sources Chrétiennes 505, Cerf. Paris. Sozomène, 1983. Histoire Ecclésiastique. Livres I-II. Texte grec de l’édition J. Bidez, G.C. Hansen (GCS). Introduction par Bernard Grillet et Guy Sabbah. Traduction par André-Jean Festugière. Sources Chrétiennes 306, Cerf. Paris. Sozomène, 2005. Histoire Ecclésiastique. Livres V-VI. Texte grec de l’édition J. Bidez, G.C. Hansen (GCS). Introduction et annotation par Guy Sabbah. Traduction par André-Jean Festugière (†) et Bernard Grillet. Sources Chrétiennes 495, Cerf. Paris. Sozomène, 2008. Histoire Ecclésiastique. Livres VII-IX. Texte grec de l’édition J. Bidez, G.C. Hansen (GCS). Introduction par Guy Sabbah. Annotation par Laurent Angliviel de la Beaumelle et Guy Sabbah. Traduction par André-Jean Festugière (†) et Bernard Grillet. Sources Chrétiennes 516, Cerf. Paris. Théodoret de Cyr, 2009. Histoire Ecclésiastique. Tome II (Livres III-V). Texte grec de L. Parmentier et G.C. Hansen (GCS, NF 5, 19983) avec annotation par J. Bouffartigue. Introduction Annick Martin. Traduction Pierre Canivet. Revue et annotée par Jean Bouffartigue, Annick Martin, Luce Pietri et Françoise Thélamon. Source Chrétiennes 530, Cerf. Paris. Vagalinski, L., Sharankov, N., Sorbatov, S. (eds) 2012. The Lower Danube Roman Limes (1st-6th c. AD). Sofia. Zeiller, J. 1918/19672. Les Origines chrétiennes dans les provinces danubiennes de l’Empire romain. Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 112. Paris/Rome.


Part 4

Forms of military presence


Soldiers and Hellenism: recruitment in the Hellenistic militaries D.J. Houle* The purpose of this contribution is to discuss both the military function and the social impact of the methods of recruitment supporting Hellenistic armed forces, in particular the Seleucid, but with reference to the Ptolemaic. Its intent is to discuss the ethnic composition of the Seleucid core military, and whether it was primarily a body of ethnic Macedonians (as some sources seem to suggest) or of a variety of ethnicities under the ‘Macedonian’ label. More broadly, it will question the content and application of ethnonyms in Hellenistic military contexts in general, and suggest that the application of an ethnic label to a military unit is indicative of a particular military and cultural tradition rather than an ethnic origin.

cause to wonder how exactly the massive recruiting power of the Middle Eastern population was used by the Seleucid kings. As such, Bar-Kochva’s portrait of the Seleucid forces seems to leave a large portion of the population unaccounted for; furthermore, since the contingents of specific vassal regions (i.e. ‘the Galatians’) are often referred to specifically by name in the primary sources, there is reason to believe that the Seleucid core phalanx was not composed purely of ethnically Macedonian soldiers, but rather a body of men who were both ethnically diverse and intermixed; it seems distinctly possible that these ‘missing ethne’ were in fact members of the army’s core phalanx, which is often referred to without an ethnic label.

The only major study specific to the Seleucid army (produced in 1976 by Bezalel Bar-Kochva) presents the conclusion that the Seleucid phalanx was indeed composed of ethnic Macedonians. Bar-Kochva’s examination of the Seleucid military structure emphasized the separation of soldiers from ‘vassal regions’ (i.e. soldiers who were not ethnically GrecoMacedonian) into their own regiments, in a similar fashion to the segregation of soldiers from different cities in classical Greek forces; the core of the Seleucid army, he concluded, continued to be represented by a phalanx of soldiers who were universally ethnically Macedonian (e.g. Bar-Kochva 1976: 49-51). As such, it would seem that indigenous ethnic populations vividly retained their own individual identities within their tenures of military service to the Seleucids, despite the spread of Greco-Macedonian political influence.

Yet, as we will see below, the introduction of the local populace into the military phalanx was not without its ethnic and cultural implications. It appears that the military association, the κοινόν, was not merely a ubiquitous Hellenistic institution, but even the cornerstone of Hellenistic military recruitment; it was this institution which provided the Seleucid monarchies with a professional phalanx, and its various instances – the separate associations in settlements throughout the empire – often identified themselves through ethnic labels, and maintained distinctly Hellenic cultural institutions (see Chaniotis 2002: 108-109).4 Thus, the involvement of a local populace in these institutions would imply a significant degree of cultural interaction between simple military co-operation.

The ancient literature is of questionable use for the understanding of the ethnic origins of the members of any given military unit. In only one instance does the ancient literature concerning Seleucid sources refer to a separate contingent of Persian soldiers in the Seleucid ranks, and in that instance the reputed unit is quite small (Bar-Kochva 1976: 50);1 there are almost no references to Syrians.2 The rarity of these distinctions, especially in comparison to the Ptolemaic army,3 is University of Waterloo (Canada). See below, n.10 on the presence of Persians in the Seleucid force at Raphia, and inscription #3 below on the possible (but unlikely) inclusion of Persians in the garrison at Palaimagnesia. 2  The exception is Livy, see below, n.18. 3  With regard to the term ‘Persian’ in the Ptolemaic force, see below, n.10. *


Our best insights into the ethnic composition of the Seleucid force are given by Polybius, Livy and Appian, through their accounts of the battles of Raphia5 and Magnesia6 respectively, as well as Polybius’s account of the military parade held by Antiochus IV at Daphne.7 These accounts appear to describe a force whose units are quite clearly demarcated on lines of ethnicity, but this clarity is unsurprisingly misleading. The following discussion will attempt to demonstrate how participation in distinctly ethno-centric elements of Hellenistic military societies (that is, units which identified with a particular ethnic) provided an avenue for the introduction of indigenous peoples to the See below, inscription #6. Polybius 5.79 and 5.82. 6  Livy 37.40; Appian, Syrian War 32. 7  Polybius 31.3. 4  5 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 160–166

Soldiers and Hellenism: Recruitment in the Hellenistic Militaries

Greco-Macedonian cultural identity and, consequently, lead to their over or under-(or mis-)representation in our primary literary sources.

populations are left largely unaccounted for in our major sources for the composition of the Seleukid force. Of course, it is hardly unanimously accepted that these sources of manpower were left fully untapped,11 and the relative dearth of military manpower12 faced by the Seleucids gives us reason to expect that they would in fact have been mobilised whenever possible; thus, we are left wondering as to their absence in our literary accounts.

The Seleucids’ employment of self-administered military units attached to particular settlements presented an avenue for participation in the Seleucid military, which would have, by nature, obscured the ethnic identity of various participants of these groups; as such units often seem to have referred to themselves by a single ethnic moniker despite the inclusion of individuals of differing ethnic backgrounds.8 These units offered an avenue for involvement in the GrecoMacedonian military (and thus cultural) sphere which our sources do not adequately represent.

It is unlikely that there is a simple explanation for the phenomenon, but one contributing factor may be that the organized associations of soldiers who identified with various other ethnicities had included these men; thus, that these Syrians and Persians were

Bar-Kochva has already noted the conspicuous absence of Syrians and Persians in our sources for the composition of the Seleucid military (Bar-Kochva 1976: 52).9 Although we do have a scant few exceptional examples against this trend,10 it remains that these

either the Seleucids or Alexander himself. However, both suggestions seem untenable, as forces from both Thrace proper and Anatolia would have been inaccessible to Antiochus III due to their being under the control of Ptolemy IV and Achaios at this time; the most likely suggestion is that the Persians, Agrianians, and Thracians were each raised from the region of Persis, made by Bar-Kochva (1976: 50) on the basis of their sharing of a common commander). Furthermore, we know through Diodorus (19.27.5) and Polyaenus (7.40) of a Thracian military settlement in Persis, which lends further credence to Bar-Kochva’s suggestion. Thus, we can confidently accept that the Persians mentioned by Polybius are interesting not only due to their exceptional nature among ethnic groups in the Seleucid military, but also because they appear to represent a unit identified by its specific military tradition and not solely its ethnicity, as clearly applies to the Thracians and Agrianians they serve beside. On the usage of the term ‘Persian’ as demarcation of a military disposition rather than ethnicity in Ptolemaic Egypt, see Lesquier 1911: 106ff. This is quite contrary to the relative proliferation of the ethnic ‘Persian’ in Ptolemaic military records; cf. Fischer 2014: 90-99. 11  Bar-Kochva’s dismissal of the involvement of Iranian-born soldiers in the phalanx is not total, as he does suggest (1976: 43) that the portion of the army’s recruiting base centered in Anatolia may have drawn from Iranian-descended soldiers possibly descended from Achaemenid settlers. In regards to the royal army in full, Billows (1995: 157) considers the involvement of Asiatics, including Syrians and Mesopotamians, in the ‘Macedonian’ regiments of the army an inevitability, and Sherwin-White and Kuhrt (1993: 53-9) consider the treaty between Magnesia and Smyrna (OGIS 229; see again inscription #3) as evidence of direct Persian participation in the phalanx. Tuplin (2014: 245-276) is more skeptical, dismissing the Persians at Palaemagnesia as significant in any respect (2014: 63) due to the inscription’s failure to specify their role in the garrison and its structure; he cautiously accepts a limited role of Iranian soldiers in the army’s cavalry, as these men are detailed by Livy (37.40.56) at the battle of Magnesia and Polybius (30.25) at the parade at Daphne. 12  At least in regards to ‘Macedonians’ proper; Grainger (2014: 92-93) has contrasted Ptolemy’s diligent recruitment of Macedonian settlers to populate his own military colonies with Seleucus’ dependence on the scattered and sparse garrisons left by Antigonus; this deficiency of Macedonian manpower was, of course, exacerbated by Seleucus’ lack of access to the Greek mainland for purposes of recruitment (at least until 301, when Ipsos gained him access to the Mediterranean coast; see Griffith 1935: 150-151) Even these problems seem enough to render Bar-Kochva’s adherence to the ‘purity’ of the Macedonian ethnic with regard to the phalanx untenable, and well beyond Billows’ broad suggestion as such; the city foundations and re-foundations conducted by Seleucus I (see Grainger 2014: 93; Griffith 1935: 148152) allowed him access to an indigenous demographic intended to circumvent the reliance of other Hellenistic forces on Macedonian heavy infantry, and there is no reason beyond the lack of direct attestation of his soldier’s Syrian/Iranian descent in the literary sources to assume that this resource was established and then fully ignored. Alexander’s need for reinforcement was enough to lead to the establishment of the ἐπίγονοι; there was even more need on the part of the Seleucids.

See the collection of epigraphic excerpts below, which includes a number of epigraphic records of garrison forces identified by an ethnic. A number of settlements in Asia Minor demonstrably maintain populations which self-identify as ‘Macedonians’ long after their original foundation (e.g. Nakrasa, OGIS 268; CIG 3522; Doidye, OGIS 314), indicating that the remaining soldier populations had maintained this identity despite intermarriage with the local populace (a demographic necessity; for the maintenance of military tradition in these settlements, see Griffith 1935: 151). The inscriptions below highlight various references not only to a garrison with an ethnic moniker, but also an indication of their inclusion of members that do not identify with their primary ethnic moniker; each of which involves the self-identification of a military group with a primary ethnic moniker as well as an indication that only part of its membership could claim such an identity (these groups are referred to as συμπολιτευόμενοι, and are not identified with any minority ethnic). For discussion of the inclusion of συμπολιτευόμενοι as a demographic necessity for the maintenance of military effectiveness on the part of garrison groups, see Cohen 1978: 76-83. For relevant discussion on the application of ethnonyms in such organizations, see, for example, Lesquier 1911: 120-24, who has demonstrated that the ethnic ‘Mysian’ originally denoted origin but came to represent only tactical disposition and armament by the 2nd century BCE, as a variety of soldiers in ‘Mysian’ units could be demonstrably linked to other ethnic origins (i.e. Cretans, Persians, and even Macedonians). 9  Bar-Kochva rejects the previously dominant explanation for this absence – that the general contemporary opinion in the Seleucid kingdom and the ancient world at large held that Syrians and those of Iranian descent were ‘effeminate and soft’ (cf. Launey 1949 I: 536, referencing Livy 35.49.8 and Plut. Moral. 197c) – but suggests an original explanation that is purely speculative: he proposes that the Seleucids simply saw ‘arming the Syrians’ as too risky an endeavour and thus refrained from doing so, especially in light of the great concentrations of military colonies housing Macedonian military resources. 10  Polybius, 5.79.6, gives reference to a unit of Persians serving alongside units of Agrianian and Thracian light infantry under a commander Menedemus at the battle of Raphia: πρὸς δὲ τούτοις Ἀγριᾶνες καὶ Πέρσαι τοξόται καὶ σφενδονῆται δισχίλιοι. μετὰ δὲ τούτων χίλιοι Θρᾷκες, ὧν ἡγεῖτο Μενέδημος Ἀλαβανδεύς. Of immediate note is the exceptional presence of identified Persian soldiers at all, but their presence alongside Thracian soldiers is also of note, if we accept that the Thracian soldiers were locally raised in the region of Persis. The origin of these Thracians is admittedly uncertain; Griffith (1935: 143) interprets these soldiers simply as Thracian mercenaries, while Launey (1949: 378) suggests that they are the descendants of Thracian settlers in Asia Minor established by 8 


D.J. Houle present in the Seleukid standing force under other monikers. The military associations discussed above, and their methods of self-identification in epigraphy, demonstrate the capacity for such groups to display a primary ethnic moniker (such as ‘Thracians’, ‘Ionians’, or ‘Macedonians’)13 while admitting members who were not of their titular ethnic origin (although these groups are not often specifically identified)14. Thus, we might understand the Seleucid ‘Macedonians’ or ‘Thracians’ present in the accounts of the army’s roster in our historians as referring to a body of men bearing these identities despite varying ethnic origins.

has led to the contrary conclusion that the term ‘Macedonian’ was merely a military phrase.17 Livy’s testimony offers no further clarification; although he refers to certain soldiers of the Seleucid Empire as ‘Syrians’,18 he often does so generally rather than with reference to specific units. Indeed, while Livy may provide a perspective on the transformation of the Macedonian identity, his statements sadly cannot offer convincing evidence for the presence of Syrians (that is, people who were of Syrian descent) in the Seleucid force. Thus, we must conclude that Livy’s terminology should only be seen as a broad (and intentionally derogatory) generalization that does not speak to the identity of the individual groups of soldiers.

The question of the veracity of the ethnics used by units of the Seleucid military is not new, especially with reference to the ‘Macedonians’ of the core phalanx; rather, it has been debated fervently for much of the past century. The relevant literary sources are contradictory with regard to the ethnicities of Seleucid soldiers, the Macedonian phalangites in particular. Appian refers to the body of the phalanx simply as ‘the Macedonians’,15 implying an homogenous body of Macedonian soldiers, while Polybius’ description of men simply ‘armed in the Macedonian manner’16

Of course, we need not limit our understanding of the Hellenistic ‘Macedonian’ phalangites to either category discussed above; the term most likely came to encompass notions of both ethnic identity and military role. It appears that – in at least some instances – participation in the Seleucid military through involvement with the various soldiers’ associations, which provided much of its manpower,19 led to the Tarn (1938: 35-39) famously rejects the notion that intermarriage within Hellenistic settlements significantly affected the Greek population due to their stubborn adherence to their cultural traditions, citing Plutarch’s Crassus as the definitive source on the matter due to its clear acknowledgement of ‘mixed Greeks’ and implication that they are a social class to themselves. For further discussion of the social standing of people of mixed race. More directly relevant to Macedonian soldiers is Griffith’s citation (1935: 148-149) of the martial quality of the ‘Macedonians’ as demonstrated in Appian’s account of Magnesia and Polybius’ of the parade at Daphne as evidence that the troops should not be understood as Asiatic, while Bar-Kochva (1989: 96-98) dismisses the possibility of Syrian inclusion in Macedonian formation out of hand by appealing to the different terminology applied to known Asiatic phalangites in our literary sources (i.e. ἐπίγονοι for the Persian youths in Arrian, Diodorus, and Plutarch; ἀντιταγμα for the Asiatic phalanx of Eumenes in Diodorus. Never, Bar-Kochva points out, are they called Macedonians), as well as a perceived difference between the shortages of manpower experienced by Alexander and Eumenes when these units were formed and the military situations of the Seleucids. Bar-Kochva does not consider the possibility that we should not expect Seleucid units to be comprised entirely of Syrians or Iranians, as per the ἐπίγονοι, but rather mixed units of Macedonian settlers and indigenous recruits; the perceived surplus of Seleucid manpower is wrong, as discussed above, n. 7, and below, n. 18. By contrast, Cohen (1978: 31) suggests that ethnic terms such as ‘Macedonian’ lost their racial or national connotations over time, coming to hold purely military meanings (i.e. troops dispositions or fighting styles) no later than the reign of Antiochus Epiphanes; Walbank (1957: 608) asserts that the term ‘Macedonian’ referring to the fighting style of the phalanx and nothing else is certain, but provides no justification. 18  The exception is the regia ala at that battle of Magnesia, who are identified as Syrian; cf. Livy 37.40.11. Bar-Kochva’s examination (1989: 93) of Livy’s reference to these ‘Syrians’ entirely dismisses Livy’s identification, suggesting that these soldiers were actually Greco-Macedonian settlers originating from both Macedonia and Anatolia; however, his argument rests on the presumption that Livy’s terminology is a corruption of his (non-extant) Polybian source material, in which he expects the unit would have been identified as Macedonian. While this conclusion is certainly in line with Livy’s assertion that all denizens of the Seleucid Empire had ‘become Syrian’ through their residency there (Livy 38.17.11), it remains speculative. 19  For a discussion of the contributions of military associations to the Seleucid royal army, see Cohen 1978: 76-82, and Bar-Kochva 1976: 2047. 17 

See inscriptions #1 and #2 below. These are, respectively, an excerpt of a dedicatory inscription from Thyatira which identifies the city’s local garrison force under Seleucus I as ‘Macedonians’, and the text of a small stone which does the same. 14  Inscriptions #4 and #5 below are Cypriot, and admittedly Ptolemaic, although still relevant at present; they are extracts of dedicatory inscriptions in the name of two military associations, the Thracians and Ionians respectively, which identify their patron groups by those particular ethnic monikers alone. Inscription #6, another Ptolemaic example, is an Alexandrian dedicatory inscription established by a military association of ‘Boeotians’. Indeed, it appears that such groups would typically associate themselves with their (presumably) dominant or founding ethnicity, whether Macedonian in Thyatira or Thracian on Cyprus. But most relevant here are the references to the various smaller groups identified within the structure of some of these groups, as the inscriptions also make clear that these ethnics are not comprehensive statements of the groups’ members. We see in the Cypriot inscriptions of the Thracian and Ionian κοινά, as well as the πολίτευμα of the Egyptian Boeotians, that these groups could include soldiers who did not individually identify with their dominant ethnicity. Each of these dedications identify their respective associations as inclusive of others who cannot be identified as Thracian or Ionian themselves – although they are their ‘co-habitants’, συμπολιτευόμενοι, they are not yet Thracians, Ionians, or Boeotians proper. The membership of these individuals within the referred organizations is implied by their inclusion in the same genitive phrases which identify the associations with their dominant ethnicities. The cited Thracian association, for example, does not dedicate their inscription by ‘the κοινόν of Thracians and also by those living with them’, but rather by ‘the κοινόν composed of Thracians and those living with them’. The distinct implication, previously noted by Cohen (1978: 74) appears to be that people who could not otherwise identify as Thracian could yet be admitted to and included in this κοινόν. This practice does not appear to be confined to Cyprus, or even specifically to this association; the cited record of the Ptolemaic Boeotian indicates that this group included συμπολιτευόμενοι as well, despite its particular ethnic moniker. A notable exception is the garrison at Palaemagnesia, wherein a group of Persian soldiers undergo sympolity alongside others, although it is the primary group which is not identified. 15  Referring to the soldiers of Antiochus III at Magnesia; Appian Syrian War, 32. 16  Polybius’s description of, notably, the soldiers of both Ptolemy and Antiochus at the battle of Raphia; 5.82. 13 


Soldiers and Hellenism: Recruitment in the Hellenistic Militaries

association of people from various ethnic groups with various different ethnic identities (or, at the very least, ethnic monikers). This assertion rests upon the evidence provided by the epigraphic testimony of various individual organizations of soldiers, both Seleucid and Ptolemaic, as cited above. These items variously attest to their military function, practices of self-identification, and the multi-ethnic character which some would eventually assume.20 Although several of these examples are not Seleucid, the few which are – such as the Smyrnean treaty of sympolity with the city of Magnesia-ad-Sipylus, which attests to the presence of a Macedonian military colony in Magnesia21 – imply enough operational similarity with those Ptolemaic examples discussed as to warrant their use as analogues, at least in the areas of identification and ethnic inclusion. Thus, we have sufficient cause to understand the groups within the Seleucid soldiery as multi-ethnic bodies despite their use of particular ethnic terminology, and to confidently view our sources’ lack of exposition of certain nationalities as an under-representation, rather than as evidence for their non-mobilisation. As discussed above, Bar-Kochva took the absence of Syrians and Persians from the accounts of Seleukid military compositions as evidence for their actual exclusion from the forces, explaining the avoidance of soldiers from this region as symptomatic of the Seleucid monarchs’ unwillingness to provide arms and military training to the peoples of their imperial heartland for fear of encouraging a crippling revolt (Bar-Kochva 1976); while this suggestion may have seemed reasonable at the time, our understanding of the Seleucid administration has evolved in the decades since Bar-Kochva’s assertion. The traditional notion that the western Seleucid Empire was any sort of ‘heartland’ has been largely discarded in favour of the recognition that the centre of the Seleucids’ power was considerably more fluid, focusing on the person of the king himself.22 We must accordingly reconsider the question of the Seleucids’ limitation of recruitment

with regard to particular groups, as the ‘importance’ of the Seleucid west cannot be accepted as the sole explanation for the apparent absence of Syrian and Persian soldiers in the Seleucid military. Rather, these soldiers were quite likely present, but were simply included in various other ethnically-identified military groups (likely the Macedonians who had occupied the various garrisons of the region),23 and that they had either officially assumed a different ethnic title or (more likely) that their ethnic origin was simply obscure to the authors of our literary sources. From the aforementioned Smyrnaean inscription, we can discern that the military settlers who formed the garrison of the city of Magnesia formed themselves into a military association as well, although the decree, sadly, does not provide any ethnic moniker by which the group may have been collectively known. In this regard, the Smyrnean decree might seem to provide disappointingly little perspective; the inscription provides no ethnicity for the soldiers at Magnesia, and does not identify the association itself other than as ‘the κοινόν in Magnesia.’ However, despite the uncertainty surrounding this association’s self-identification, the presence of Persian soldiers – a group under-represented in the Seleucid military rolls both before and after the issuance of the Smyrnaean decree – within this group presents a significant dichotomy with the military accounts of our major sources. According to the inscription, the soldiers led by one ‘Omanes’ are ethnically identified as Persians within the structure of the Palaemagnesian garrison. While the equipment and origin of these soldiers is a matter of considerable debate,24 what is relevant here For the establishment of major and minor settlements in the region by the Seleucids and the reliance on local populations for their establishment, see Grainger 2014: 91-98. For the relationship of these foundations (or re-foundations) to the supply of Seleucid soldiers, see Griffith 1935: 149-158. For the involvement of the local indigenous populations in the maintenance of these settlements’ military effectiveness, see above, n.17, and also Parke 1933: 209, who suggests the employment as soldiers of children of mixed race born to Macedonian settlers as the only demographically plausible explanation for the continued employ of ‘Macedonians’ in the numbers that we see in our literary sources (though he also leaves speculative room for the entry of fully foreign soldiers into these units, on the same demographic grounds, though he pursues the idea no further). 24  Sherwin-White and Kuhrt (1993: 55) have argued that the inscription indicates that these Persians are phalangites, while Tuplin (2014: 245-276) has correctly pointed out (p. 18) that the inscription does not imply this directly. Griffith (1935: 155) and Aperghis (2005: 200) and many others have postulated that this was a unit of cavalrymen, which, while not indicated in the inscription, is entirely possible; it may even be that these were a unit of Persian light infantry attached to Timon’s phalangites, as Arrian records the inclusion of Persian light soldiers into the phalanx during Alexander’s campaigns (Arrian, 7), and it remains that this unit of Persian soldiers is decidedly recorded as a part of a military group collectively identified as phalangites. Regarding their origin, Ihnken (1978: 121) has argued that Omanes’ men are likely connected to the various contingents of Persians stationed in Asia Minor by the Achaemenids, which may have continued to operate under Seleukid dominance, a view followed by Billows (1995: 175, n.84) without 23 

Here it must be admitted that the epigraphic sources documenting this phenomenon are few and present only a narrow sample of military organizations in either region. With that admission made, however, I would emphasize the fairly broad range of nationalities invoked by the cited inscriptions and the breadth of geography involved. 21  The significance of the ethnics provided by this inscription is a matter of considerable debate. For the references to a military colony of phalangites, see the excerpts of the inscription below at #3. The inscription attests to the existence of a colony, its soldiers are identified as phalangites (the phalangites of Timon are identified as ‘detached from the phalanx’, and they are contrasted with other soldiers ‘not from Magnesia’). 22  Sherwin-White and Kuhrt (1933: 40-44) have cited the multitude of agreements between Seleucid monarchs and individual settlements to demonstrate the fluid and distinctly non-federal authority exercised over territory by the Seleucid kings; see also Plischke 2014: 33, on the favour of the king as the crucial element driving political advancement within the empire. Bar-Kochva’s understanding of the empire stems from Tarn, who explained the empire as a vast swath of land only tentatively controlled by a weak monarchy rooted in the western provinces of their territory; cf. Tarn 1938: 2-5. 20 


D.J. Houle is that Omanes and his soldiers represented a portion of the active manpower of the κάτοικοι in Magnesia (whether as phalangites or cavalry), that they are distinctly represented as ‘Persians’ within the decree, and that their participation did not translate to the representation of the Persian ethnicity in the historical accounts of the Seleukid military. Therefore, at the very least, the inscription serves as an indication that Persian soldiers were active participants in the Seleukid military, despite their under-representation by our historians.

pike phalanx is an ethnic at all, or merely a military designation, but the two are neither mutually exclusive nor limited to the Macedonian ethnic; rather, the maintenance of military practices served as a method by which an association of soldiers could maintain its traditional sense of identity, just as with other cultural phenomena (i.e. cultic practices), resulting in units such as the Boeotians in Egypt persisting through the maintenance of a military tradition not unlike that of modern military groups.26 Cohen (1978: 74-75) has demonstrated that Egypt’s Boeotians maintained traditional Boeotian cult practices, and we also know of the maintenance of traditional military practice by a unit of Thracian settler-soldiers settled in Persia itself up to at least the battle of Raphia.27 Further, we see the same practice in the unit of ‘Agrianians’ supposedly attached to these Thracians; just as the famed light unit of Alexander’s forces, these ‘Agrianians’ remain a unit of specialized light infantry, despite most likely representing only a pseudo-ethnic moniker by the time of Raphia.28 On this same note, the region of Persis also provides the only unit of identified Persians reported in service in the major campaigns of the Seleucids to my knowledge; yet, we should not see this apparent lack of involvement as representative of the extent of Persian participation in the campaigns. Rather, it seems more likely that these soldiers of Persis itself, light-armed infantry and bowmen,29 represent the maintenance of the Persian military tradition of famed archers and light troops – much like the Agrianians just discussed – and not of the full collection of all Persian manpower within the Seleucid force (Bar-Kochva 1876: 50-51).30

Of course, it remains that (save perhaps for that of Smyrna) no inscription cited details the identity of any members of its association which do not yet qualify as part of their dominant ethnic; thus, the question of the specific identity of these ‘others’ who came to be initiated into these groups still stands, and the making of such an identification with more confidence than speculation is likely impossible. It seems most probable that they were simply members of the local population recruited to maintain sufficient strength in the local garrison, particularly following campaigns or invasion. Cohen has previously (1978: 82)25 likened the entrance of foreigners into settlers’ associations to their eventual entrance into the colonies’ gymnasia, suggesting that such organizations existed partially as a way to ensure that new arrivals to a colony adapted to Greco-Macedonian culture exclusively rather than bringing in the influence of their own customs. Thereby, these associations served as a means by which a settler population could ensure the survival of its parent culture and identity in a foreign region upon which they would come to be dependent for military manpower; it would appear that one avenue for the pursuit of this goal was through the maintenance of a military tradition under which they had originally arrived.

The group discussed is mentioned in inscription #6 below. I am reminded here of the Algonquin Regiment of the Canadian Reserve Forces stationed in North Bay, Ontario, whose Algonquin population is practically non-existent to my understanding. 27  The inscription included as #6 recalls a dedication made by this group on behalf of Ptolemy Philometor to Zeus Basileus, along with other deities who are not specifically named. Note that the presence of συμπολιτευόμενοι in the group does not, of course, necessitate their direct involvement in the worship of a Boeotian deity, but it remains that they are recorded as being a part of a group which actively continued to pursue Boeotian cultic practices during their residency in Egypt. Cf. the inscriptions of the garrisons at Thera (IG XII 3, 443, 464, cf. Vidman 1969: 88-91; Launey 1949: 890; Bagnall 1976: 124-126), Methana (IG IV, 854), Athens (IG II 1299), Attalis Aigina and Panion (cf. Chaniotis 2002: 109; Launey 1949: 956) for other examples of military associations maintaining either traditional religious practices or participation in the ruler cult of their founding empire. 28  Polybius 5.79: πρὸς δὲ τούτοις Ἀγριᾶνες καὶ Πέρσαι τοξόται καὶ σφενδονῆται δισχίλιοι. μετὰ δὲ τούτων χίλιοι Θρᾷκες, ὧν ἡγεῖτο Μενέδημος Ἀλαβανδεύς. For the nature of the ethnic applied to the Agrianians, see Bar-Kochva 1976: 50. 29  The separation of the Thracian soldiers from the main phalanx, coupled with their source in an independent military settlement, indicates that they had maintained their traditional armaments and fighting style (or as near as could be accomplished), cf. Bar-Kochva 1976: 33-34. 30  The presence of Persian soldiers of some description, whether infantry or cavalry, is attested in other sources (i.e. OGIS 229), but their only mention in the primary literature is that of Polybius given above, wherein they are identified with the light-armed fighting style. 26 

As mentioned, it has been discussed at length whether the term ‘Macedonian’ in reference to the Seleucids’ further comment but rejected by Coskun (2015), who instead suggests that the unit is a product of Seleucus II’s eastern campaigning and is only a recent addition to the fort’s occupants. Indeed, the preservation of an Achaemenid military unit (in the strictest sense of official organization, rather than broadly in terms of tradition i.e. the Persians recorded at the battle of Raphia). 25  Cohen places the gymnasia at the centre of Hellenistic colonial life – as a ‘repository of Hellenic culture’ alongside its normal duties of education and training – largely responsible for fostering a sense of ‘Greekness’ among the residents of a colony, supporting this suggestion by citing the pervasive presence of the institution among Seleucid colonies. Even in this definitively Greek institution, however – and one in fact designed to maintain the separation of Greek and non-Greek – Cohen admits that the eventual inclusion of non-Greeks was essentially inevitable, due primarily to demographic concerns but also to social pressure. We can deduce from the frequent application of ethnic monikers to military associations, as well as their capacity for the maintenance of traditional cultic and military practices, that they served the same purpose; the same function of the gymnasia, the maintenance of cultural homogeneity, can be observed in the military associations’ adherence to their unit’s traditional esprit de corps.


Soldiers and Hellenism: Recruitment in the Hellenistic Militaries

The building programme of Seleucus and Antiochus I31 almost certainly aimed to provide, among other objectives, stationing points for the soldiers of the Seleucid west – those who would come to form the phalanx in times of campaign – and, moreover, these settlements must have depended upon the influx of the local population in order to maintain any sort of military effectiveness.32 If many (even if not all) of these individual units maintained their traditional ‘esprit de corps’ as the Boeotians in Egypt, the Agrianians in Persis, and apparently (though less certainly) the phalangites in Magnesia, then we may be able to understand an underlying cause for the under-representation of Syrian and Iranian soldiers in the Seleucid force: much like Omanes’ Persians in Palaemagnesia, they would likely have been employed as units subordinate to a group of phalangites, perhaps identified as Macedonian, but almost certainly obscuring their own individual ethnic identity as far as our sources are concerned.

seemed to benefit from their participation, as they had received the same privileges under the Smyrnean treaty as their Hellenic fellows. In any case, the implication remains that, at least in certain areas, time periods, or social situations, adaptation to Greco-Macedonian cultural forms offered some sort of social advantage to the local populations within the Seleucid Empire, and participation in Seleukid military associations may have presented one avenue through which this could be visibly accomplished. I would refer again to the Boeotians in Alexandria, who not only admitted nonBoeotians into their ranks, but also engaged in Boeotian cultic practice as a unit; it seems reasonable, then, that involvement with this unit could lead to association with the broader Boeotian ethnic identity. Relevant Excerpts of Referenced Inscriptions: 1. OGIS 211; An early 3rd-century dedicatory inscription to Seleukos I: … τῶν ἐν Θυατείρος Μακεδόνων οἱ ἡγεμόνες καὶ οἱ στρατιῶται... The leaders and the soldiers of the Macedonians in Thyatira… 2. BCH 11, 466.32; a small stone containing only the identification of the garrison around Thyateira, dated to the reign of Seleukos I (306-281 BCE): … οἱ περὶ Θυάτειρα Μακεδόνες… … The Macedonians around Thyatira… 3. OGIS 229; Ihnken 1978, 1; the treaty of sympolitea between Smyrna and Magnesia-ad-Sipylus c. 245 BCE: … οἱ ἐμ Μαγνησίαι κάτοικοι οἵ τε κατὰ πόλιν ἱππεῖς καὶ πεζοὶ καὶ οἱ ἐν τοῖς ὑπαίθροις καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι οἰκηταί... συνσφραγισάσθωσαν δε τὰς ὁμολογίας τὴμ μὲν Σμυρναίοις δοθησομένην οὕς ἄν ἀποδείξηι τὸ κοινὸν τῶν ἐμ Μαγνησίαι... ὑπάρχειν δὲ καὶ Τίμωνι καὶ τοῖς πεζοῖς τοῖς τεταγμένοις ὑπὸ Τίμωνα τοῖς ἀποταχθεισιν ἀπὸ τῆς φάλαγγος ἐπὶ τὴν φυλακὴν τοῦ χωρίου τήν τε πολιτείαν καὶ τὴν αὐτὴν ἀτέλειαν ἣ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις ὑπάρχει, καὶ εἶναι αὐτοὺς ἐν τῶι χωρίωι• ὑπάρχειν δὲ καὶ ᾿ Ωμάνει καὶ τοῖς Πέρσαις τοῖς ὑπὸ ᾿ Ωμάνην... τήν τε πολιτείαν καὶ τᾶλλα φιλάνθρωπα ἃ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις τοῖς ἐκ{γ} Μαγνησίας ἐψήφισται.... … The military settlers in Magnesia, both the cavalry and the infantry stationed in the city as well as those in the field and the others living there… may those who should be selected by the association of those in Magnesia seal the agreement which is to be given to the Smyrnaeans… Timon and the infantry under Timon, who have been detached from the phalanx and assigned to the garrison of the fortress, are to have citizenship and the same tax exemptions as the others, and they are to be there; and

It is also worth consideration that participation in these military institutions may have been a voluntary affair on the part of local non-Greeks, as it does appear that identifying oneself with Macedonian cultural forms served some purpose in the improvement of one’s social standing.33 Omanes and his men at Magnesia certainly Grainger (2014: 92-93) has contrasted Ptolemy’s diligent recruitment of Macedonian settlers to populate his own military colonies with Seleucus’ dependence on the scattered and sparse garrisons left by Antigonus; this deficiency of Macedonian manpower was, of course, exacerbated by Seleucus’ lack of access to the Greek mainland for purposes of recruitment (at least until 301, when Ipsos gained him access to the Mediterranean coast; see Griffith 1935: 150-151). Even these problems seem enough to render Bar-Kochva’s adherence to the ‘purity’ of the Macedonian ethnic with regard to the phalanx difficult to maintain; the city foundations and refoundations conducted by Seleucus I (see Grainger 2014: 93; Griffith 1935: 148-152) allowed him access to an indigenous demographic intended to circumvent the reliance of other Hellenistic forces on Macedonian heavy infantry, and there is no reason beyond the lack of direct attestation of his soldier’s Syrian/Iranian descent in the literary sources to assume that this resource was established and then fully ignored. Alexander’s need for reinforcement was enough to lead to the establishment of the ἐπίγονοι; there was even more need on the part of the Seleucids. 32  See La’da 2002 for the apparent difficulty in maintaining a stable settler population while avoiding mixed marriages in Alexandria. For the establishment of major and minor settlements in the region by the Seleucids and the reliance on local populations for their establishment, see Grainger 2014: 91-98. For the relationship of these foundations (or re-foundations) to the supply of Seleucid soldiers, see Griffith 1935: 149-158. For the involvement of the local indigenous populations in the maintenance of these settlements’ military effectiveness, see above and n. 14, and also Parke 1933: 209, who suggests the employment as soldiers of children of mixed race born to Macedonian settlers as the only demographically plausible explanation for the continued employ of ‘Macedonians’ in the numbers that we see in our literary sources (yet he also leaves speculative room for the entry of fully foreign soldiers into these units, on the same demographic grounds, although he pursues the idea no further). 33  This would explain certain onomastic anomalies within Grainger’s Gazetteer of Seleucid subjects, wherein can be found, as an example, the records of a Persian merchant who had given Greek names to his children; cf. Grainger 1997. There is, of course, no way to be certain of his motivations, though we may understand the desire of some to escape the tension between those of a Greco-Macedonian heritage 31 

and the local populaces of the eastern world that is so strongly expressed in the works of several Hellenistic poets, especially Meleager; cf. Höschele 2013: 19-32.


D.J. Houle Omanes, and the Persians under Omanes … are to have citizenship and the other benefactions which have also been decreed for the others from Magnesia… 4. OGIS 143; an honorific inscription to Ptolemy, governor of Cyprus, c. 150-100 BCE. τὸ κοινὸν τῶν ἐν Κύπρωι τασσομένων Θραικῶν καὶ τῶν συμπολιτευομένων… … The association of battle-ready Thracians in Cyprus and those living with them... 5. OGIS 145; which appears to be similar in context to OGIS 143, although the first lines of the inscription are lost (c. 150-100) BCE: τὸ κοινὸν τῶν ἐν τῆι νήσωι τασσομένων᾿ Ιώνων καὶ τῶν συμπολιτευομένων… … The association of battle-ready Ionians on the island and those living with them… 6. SEG II.871; an Alexandrian honorific inscription dated to the reign of Ptolemy VI (180-145 BCE): οἱ̣ ἐ̣πισυνηγμένοι ἐν Ξόει Βοιωτο̣ὶ̣ καὶ ο̣ἱ̣ συμπολιτευόμενοι…. Δὺ Βασιλεῖ καὶ τοῖς ἂλλοις πατρίοις θεοῖς… The Boeotians gathered together in Coei and their fellow-citizens… To Zeus Basileus and the other ancestral gods…

Coskun, A. 2015. Ptolemaioi as Commanders in 3rdCentury Asia Minor and Some Glimpses on Ephesos and Mylasa during the Second and Third Syrian Wars, in B. Takmer, E. Akdoğu Arca, N. Gökalp (eds) Vir doctus anatolicus. Studies in Memory of Sencer Şahin: 211-233. Istanbul. Fischer-Bovet, C. 2011. Counting the Greeks in Egypt: Immigration in the First Century of Ptolemaic Rule, in C. Holeran and A. Pudsey (eds) Demography and the Graeco-Roman World: New Insights and Approaches: 135-154. Cambridge. Fischer-Bovet, C. 2014. Army and Society in Ptolemaic Egypt. Cambridge. Grainger, J.D. 1997. A Seleukid Prosopography and Gazetteer. Leiden. Grainger, J.D. 2014. The Rise of the Seleukid Empire (323-223 BC): Seleukos I to Seleukos III. Barnsley. Griffith, G.T. 1935. The Mercenaries of the Hellenistic World. London. Höschele, R. 2013. ‘If I am from Syria – So What?’: Meleager’s Cosmopoetics, in S.L. Ager and R.A. Faber (eds) Belonging and Isolation in the Hellenistic World: 1932. Toronto. Ihnken, T. 1978. Die Inschriften von Magnesia am Sipylos, in Inschriften griechischer Stadte aus Kleinasien 8. La’da, C.A. 2002. Prosopographica Ptolemaica X: Foreign Ethnics in Hellenistic Egypt. Leiden. Launey, M. 1949. Recherches sur les Armées Hellenistiques, vols. 1-2. Paris. Lesquier, J. 1911. Les Institutions militaires de l’Egypte sous les Lagides. Paris. Parke, H.W. 1933. Greek Mercenary Soldiers. Oxford. Plischke, S. 2014. Die Seleukiden und Iran. Die seleukidische Herrschaftspolitik in den östlichen Satrapien. Wiesbaden. Sherwin-White, S. and Kuhrt, A. 1993. From Samarkhand to Sardis: A new approach to the Seleucid Empire. Los Angeles. Tarn, W.W. 1938. The Greeks in Bactria and India. Cambridge. Tuplin, C.J. 2014. The military dimension of Hellenistic kingship: an Achaemenid heritage?, in P. Bose (ed.) Orient und Okzident: 245-276. Vaterstetten. Vidman, L. 1969. Sylloge Inscriptionum religionis Isiacae et Sarapiacae. Berlin. Walbank, F.W. 1957. A Historical Commentary on Polybius I. Oxford.

Bibliography Aphergis, G.G. 2005. The Seleukid Royal Economy: The Finances and Financial Administration of the Seleukid Empire. Cambridge. Austin, M.M. 1981. The Hellenistic World from Alexander to the Roman Conquest. Cambridge. Bagnall, R.S. 1976. The Administration of the Ptolemaic Possessions Outside Egypt. New York. Bar-Kochva, B. 1976. The Seleucid Army: Organization and Tactics in the Great Campaigns. Cambridge. Bar-Kochva, B. 1989. Judas Maccabeus: The Jewish Struggle Against the Seleucid Empire. Cambridge. Billows, R.A. 1995. Kings and Colonists: Aspects of Macedonian Imperialism. Leiden. Chaniotis, A. 2002. Foreign Soldiers – Native Girls? Constructing and Crossing Boundaries in Hellenistic Cities with Foreign Garrisons, in A. Chaniotis and P. Ducrey (eds) Army and Power in the Ancient World: 99113. Stuttgart. Cohen, G.M. 1978. The Seleucid Colonies: Studies in Founding, Administration and Organisation. Wiesbaden.


Germanicus, Trajan, and the date of Annals 1-6 Katherine Low*

The question of when Tacitus’ Annals was written has regularly been debated. A probable terminus post quem is given by the fact that its author’s previous work, the Histories, seems to have been complete by 109 or 110,1 and analysis of what is known about Tacitus’ writing habits and other commitments suggests that it is likely that the project was still occupying him when Trajan died in 117 (Potter 1991: 289-290; Rutledge 1998: 142143; Birley 2000: 241-242). No further information external to the text survives. Scholars have accordingly looked within the narrative for allusions to events that happened during Tacitus’ lifetime, in order to obtain further evidence for the dating of the Annals and to determine the historian’s attitude to the era in which he lived. There are, however, no unambiguous references in the text to contemporary affairs. A few apparent allusions to current events can be found, but it has proved impossible to account for them in a way that ensures they are mutually consistent. This discussion will not attempt to provide a direct solution to this problem. Instead, it will contribute to the debate by focusing on the account in Book 2 of the Annals of the voyage made in 18-19 by Germanicus, Tiberius’ stepson and heir, from Rome to Greece, the Black Sea, Asia Minor and Egypt, which was concluded by his death in Antioch (2.5361, 69-73).2 It will be suggested that here and in the Tiberian books as a whole Tacitus offers a perspective on the military campaigns undertaken by Trajan in the east in 113-117, in the course of which Roman armies annexed Armenia, overran Mesopotamia and captured the Parthian capital, Ctesiphon, although these gains were not held for long.3 Dating the Annals: the evidence assembled No praise of the current state of Roman affairs features at the beginning of the Annals, in contrast to the opening chapters of earlier Tacitean works, the Agricola (Agr. 3.1; cf. 44.5) and the Histories (H. 1.1.4).4 As a result, attempts have been made to determine whether Oxford University (UK). 1  See Pliny, Epp. 6.16, 6.20 and 7.33, and Birley 2000: 241. 2  In what follows all dates are AD, and all chapter references to the Annals, unless otherwise stated. 3  Lepper 1948 and Lightfoot 1990 offer useful surveys of these campaigns, of which a number of the details will be discussed below. 4  These passages may not, of course, be entirely unambiguous: see Leeman 1973: 183-184, 203 and Rutledge 1998: 153. *

Tacitus expressed opinions about the situation in Rome in the first quarter of the 2nd century in more subtle ways. One component of Ronald Syme’s firm belief that the Annals were predominantly of Hadrianic date was his view that sections of the narrative, especially its portrayal of Tiberius, were intended as veiled and rather uncomplimentary commentary on Hadrian (1958: 484-498).5 Steven Rutledge, meanwhile, has suggested that Tacitus left the possibility open for his audiences to draw parallels – again, not especially flattering ones – between the Julio-Claudians’ actions and the contemporary behaviour of Trajan (1998: 143152). Conversely, it has also been argued that dilating on the wrongs done by emperors from a previous dynasty was a paradoxical means of acclaiming the very different atmosphere that prevailed under their successor Trajan.6 Unfortunately there is no satisfactory means of verifying these hypotheses and, in any case, they cannot be used to date the text precisely. Moreover, the idea that the Annals contains hidden negative judgements about present-day emperors is called into question by recent work that has challenged the traditional assumption that Tacitus was a dissident critic of the principate (Sailor 2008: esp. 6-50, 250-313). This has stressed his status as a successful career politician and public figure, who is unlikely to have been as isolated from the regime as some interpretations of his works imply. It would not necessarily follow that Tacitus was wholly supportive of the principate as an institution: the Annals do not exactly give the impression that its author thought benevolently of the imperial system, and although his characterisation of the Julio-Claudian emperors as somewhat dysfunctional rulers does not explicitly apply to Trajan and Hadrian, it does not take the trouble to exclude them. Nevertheless, when assessing the work’s relationship with its contemporary context, it seems wiser to focus on individual issues in the text than to search for blanket condemnation or approval. Indeed, the evidence offered by a small number of specific passages has been used to inform other lines of And cf. Syme 1958: 768-770, whose approach is defended by Birley 2000: 242-244. 6  Ramage (1989: esp. 655-657) argues that Tacitus and other authors praise Trajan by denigrating his predecessors, but this is robustly challenged by Wilson 2003: 526-534. 5 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 167–173

Katherine Low speculation about the work’s dating. The most important are found within Tacitus’ description of Germanicus’ visit to Egypt, towards the end of the lengthy eastern tour described in Annals 2, the ostensible purpose of which was to install a new king in Armenia.7 After visiting the Actium memorial at Nicopolis, and enjoying a warm reception in Athens, Germanicus heads north to Lesbos, Byzantium and Perinthus, and the mouth of the Black Sea, before sailing back down the coast of Asia Minor (2.53-4). He then travels inland to Artaxata, to attend the coronation of the new Armenian king Zeno (Artaxias III), whose familiarity with local customs is said to have made him an appropriate and successful choice.

The two quoted passages from the account of Germanicus’ Nile cruise are part of a notorious crux with implications for the dating of this part of the Annals. Tacitus is highly likely to have written at least some of the work while Trajan’s campaigns against Parthia of 113-117 were happening, and he regularly describes Roman involvement in the east under the Julio-Claudians, but there is a conspicuous absence of any reference to those contemporary campaigns in the narrative (Woodman 2009b: 41). Nevertheless, their effect may be felt less overtly. It has been argued that the acclamation at 2.60.4 of the great and, implicitly, equivalent power of Parthia and Rome could not have been written between 115 and 116, as in those years Trajan inflicted serious defeats on the Parthians.8 Therefore this statement seems to either pre-date or post-date his major conquests.

On his return, in the province of Syria he receives an embassy from the Parthian king Artabanus. He politely declines the ambassadors’ invitation to come to the bank of the Euphrates to renew the friendly relations between Rome and Parthia, but speaks de societate Romanorum Parthorumque magnifice [in fulsome terms about the alliance between the Romans and the Parthians] (2.58.2), and obliges the king by having the deposed Parthian ruler Vonones (on whom see further below) removed from Syria – although this is partly to spite his rival Gnaeus Piso, governor of the province, to whom Vonones is said to have given splendid gifts (2.56-8).

The subsequent detail about the empire currently extending rubrum ad mare (2.61.1), however, may contradict this. It is not certain whether rubrum mare refers to the modern Red Sea, or to the Persian Gulf. If the former, this passage would denote the Roman annexation of Arabia in 106, which would mean that Annals 2 could have been completed at any time after that date, and there is no need to reconcile this comment with Tacitus’ words at 2.60.4 (see Bowersock 1975; Goodyear 1981; 387-393; Bowersock 1993: 4-5).9 But if the term is to be applied to the Persian Gulf and hence to Trajan’s conquest of lower Mesopotamia some ten years later, a view that in itself seems more convincing (Syme 1958: 768-770; Birley 2000: 244),10 this passage would appear to have been written no later than in the immediate aftermath of Trajan’s successful campaigns, for even as Trajan was journeying as far as the Persian Gulf in 116, anti-Roman revolts were breaking out in his wake and elsewhere, and after his death the following year Hadrian immediately instituted a policy of retrenchment (Dio 68.29.4-32, HA Hadr. 5.2-4).

Subsequently Germanicus enters Egypt (2.59). He takes a cruise along the Nile, leaving from Canopus and proceeding to the remains of the city of Thebes (2.60.12). There he views a hieroglyphic inscription, which a priest translates: it commemorates the large army once commanded by king Ramses, and the extensive domains he once occupied, of which the inhabitants paid tribute that was haud minus magnifica quam nunc vi Parthorum aut potential Romana iubentur [no less splendid than what is now under the control of the Parthians’ might or Roman power] (2.60.4). He then visits other sites of interest, and eventually reaches Elephantine and Syene, which Tacitus terms claustra olim Romani imperii, quod nunc rubrum ad mare patescit [once the limits of the Roman empire, which now extends to the red sea] (2.61.2). Finally he returns to Syria, where he dies (suspecting, probably without good reason, that he has been poisoned by Piso, with whom his relationship has been consistently antagonistic) at Antioch (2.72.2).

If this passage does refer to Trajan’s furthest conquests, though, Tacitus’ suggestion at 2.60.4 that the might of the Parthians is currently comparable to Rome’s would be surprising. In response, an attempt has been made to reconcile the two assertions by arguing that in one area of lower Mesopotamia Roman influence was maintained after Trajan’s departure, and that even after 117 it may have been possible to mention without contradiction both the extent of Rome’s domains and Parthia’s

On the tour as a whole, see Questa 1957; Koestermann 1958; Kelly 2010. At 2.5.1 Tacitus says that Tiberius dispatched Germanicus to the east to intervene in Armenia, but also because he secretly wished to expose him to danger. This assertion fits the impression given in the narrative that the two men had a troubled relationship (see Pelling 1993: 67-78), but its historicity cannot be verified. The Tabula Siarensis (fr. 1 15-17) suggests that Germanicus was assigned other diplomatic tasks not mentioned by Tacitus, and more broadly Tiberius may have wished to display his heir to this part of the empire, just as in 2 or 1 BC Augustus had sent out his grandson and heir Gaius, who visited a number of sites in the east and also attended a summit with the Parthian king Phraates at the Euphrates (Velleius 2.101.1). 7 

Goodyear 1981: 389; in the same vein he cites the reference at 2.56.1 to the Armenians as a nation poised between the great Roman and Parthian empires (moreover, between 114 and 117 Armenia was a Roman province and this statement would not have been valid) and at 4.5.2 to client kings in the region who are protected by Rome against external great powers. 9  These authors adduce relevant parallels for rubrum mare, but a linguistic case can also be made for the other usage. 10  Birley’s argument is cogent, although it is disappointing that he does not acknowledge the existence of 2.60.4. 8 


Germanicus, Trajan, and the Date of Annals 1-6

great strength. The possibility of later insertion or deliberate anachronism has also been suggested, but no universally acceptable solution has been reached (Potter 1991: esp. 287-299).11 It seems not to be possible to rely on these passages to reach a definite dating of Annals 2, let alone the work as a whole.

which contributes to a broader sense in the narrative that, in Roman policy towards the east, diplomacy and restraint are to be favoured over belligerence. The fact that there are aspects of Germanicus’ portrayal that potentially illuminate Trajan’s activities does not conclusively prove that the Annals was composed with a knowledge of how the latter’s campaigns turned out, but this uncertainty should not detract from the reading of Book 2 advanced here. Provided that the idea of a war in the east was at least under discussion when the narrative was being composed – and it seems probable that it was not only under discussion but underway – it is not necessary to posit a definite dating for this part of the Annals, or to assume that Trajan’s campaigns had reached a particular stage, in order to consider how the presentation of Germanicus may have been imbued with relevance for that emperor.

Trajan and Germanicus: Rome and the East The account of Germanicus’ voyage in Annals 2 may, however, offer rather different kind of evidence about the period during which it was written, and also about Tacitus’ views of contemporary events. It was, of course, in very different circumstances that Germanicus in 18 and Trajan in 113 set out. Even so, the absence of other evidence for Germanicus’ travels in written sources for this period suggests that Tacitus’ extended focus on them in Annals 2 was the product of a deliberate choice,12 and it is intriguing that he chose to depict a leading Roman figure embarking on an expansive voyage to the east at around the same time as the current emperor was beginning campaigns in the region. A further basic echo may be also present in the text. In his obituary of Germanicus, Tacitus mentions how those who mourned him in the east compared him favourably with Alexander the Great (2.73.1-3). The historian does not personally endorse the comparison, but it follows on from earlier episodes in which Germanicus appears to follow in Alexander’s footsteps.13 This theme may have had a particular resonance for Tacitus’ audience, as Trajan seems to have publically presented himself in an Alexander-esque manner when he was in Parthia (Dio 68.29.1, 30.1).

Indeed, the possibility that Tacitus’ focus on the east in Annals 2 can be linked to contemporary developments first emerges in the book’s opening chapters. Before stating at 2.5.1 that the unsettled eastern situation in 18 resulted in Tiberius’ decision to send Germanicus to the region (cf. n. 7 above), at 2.1-4 he explains in detail how this situation had arisen. The Parthian king Phraates had previously sent some of his sons to Rome as a pledge of friendship, haud perinde nostri metu quam fidei popularium diffisus [not so much out of fear of us as because he was uncertain of his people’s loyalty] (2.1.2).15 After Phraates’ death, Parthian representatives came to Rome asking for the eldest, Vonones, to be sent back to succeed his father. Despite an initial burst of popularity, the reaction to him in Parthia soon turned hostile, as he was viewed as a mancipium Caesaris [slave of Caesar] (2.2.2) who had acquired unParthian habits (2.2.3-4).

Now, the idea that the Germanicus of the Annals can be read as an analogue for Trajan has previously been noted,14 but it has not been fully explored with reference to Germanicus’ eastern voyage and Trajan’s military activities. It will now be argued that Tacitus’ description of Germanicus’ travels can be read as a kind of cautionary commentary on Trajan’s campaigns, which does not explicitly condemn the emperor, but

As a result, Artabanus, a member of the Arsacid family, appeared as an alternative candidate for the Parthian throne and drove Vonones out.16 He took refuge in Armenia, which was then in need of a ruler and displaying no particular loyalty to Rome. This was due to the fact that some years earlier Mark Antony had deceived and put to death Artavasdes, a previous king (2.3.1).17 Subsequently, Augustus attempted to impose new rulers – Tigranes, his children, another Artavasdes, Ariobarzanes, and then a woman named Erato (2.3.2-4.1) – but none of these reigned for long, and ultimately Vonones was able to become king (2.4.2). Nevertheless, the threat posed by Artabanus in Parthia caused Creticus Silanus, then the Roman governor of Syria, to remove Vonones from Armenia into safe

Potter examines evidence that appears to show that Mesene, a kingdom close to the Persian Gulf, was a Roman client state in the years after Trajan’s conquests; so it may not then have been inaccurate to state that Rome’s imperium extended that far. See again Syme 1958: 769-770 and Goodyear 1981: 389 sq for speculation about anachronism and insertions, and Laederich 2001: 373-377. 12  There is epigraphic evidence (collected at Magie 1950: 497-498 and 1356-1357, nn. 17-18) for Germanicus’ movements, but the only other literary reference is at Suetonius, Cal. 3.2, a generalising passage. It seems that his travels were not considered an indispensable part of the history of this period. 13  Note especially 2.54.2, his halt at Troy on his way east (cf. Arrian, Anab. 1.12.1) and 2.54.3, his visit to the oracle at Colophon (cf. Arrian, Anab. 3.3-4). Like other leading Romans (Goodyear 1981: 372-376 ad 2.59.1), Germanicus in real life may have actively sought to imitate Alexander, but on this historiographical theme in Annals 2, see Gissel 2001. 14  It seems to originate with Michel 1966: 125 (cf., too, Borszák 1969: 599), who simply suggests that the parallelism was meant to flatter Trajan. 11 

In the Res Gestae (32.2), by contrast, Augustus presents this event as an act of Parthian submission to Rome. 16  Gowing 1990: 318-319 shows that Tacitus obscures how Vonones ruled successfully for some time. 17  Elsewhere (Dio 49.25.5) it is reported that Artavasdes was not an innocent victim, as implied here, but betrayed Antony: see Goodyear 1981: 194. 15 


Katherine Low custody, as si nosa vi defenderetur, bellum adversus Parthos sumendum erat [if he were defended by Roman armed force, it would be necessary to undertake war with the Parthians] (2.4.3).18 This was the state of affairs that demanded Germanicus’ attention.

Germanicus’ adept diplomacy in Armenia differs not only from his predecessors’ efforts but also from Trajan’s. The possibility that his actions are relevant to the 2nd century may be heightened when at 2.68.12 Tacitus reports that Vonones, after escaping from his Roman handlers, was eventually recaptured and met a dubious death that echoes what happened to Parthamasiris.21 Furthermore, Germanicus’ decision to decline Artabanus’ invitation to go to the Euphrates (2.58.2) marks him out not only from his predecessor Gaius, Augustus’ grandson, who had met Phraates at the river,22 but also from Trajan, who had crossed it on his way to Ctesiphon (Dio 68.28.1-2). It seems, then, that while a number of Germanicus’ actions in the east are reminiscent of situations in which Trajan found himself, the resemblances are often inverted. Germanicus’ restraint and diplomacy are the antitype of Trajan’s belligerence. The fact that these situations occurred in the early stages of the emperor’s campaigns makes it more likely that Tacitus had them specifically in mind when he was writing, but what is the significance of the contrast between past and present?

At the beginning of Book 2, then, in which Germanicus’ travels will feature so heavily, Tacitus looks forward to his narrative of those travels with a dense survey of Roman relations with Parthia and Armenia in the years preceding 18. This prominent digressive passage in itself may well have put Tacitus’ readers in mind of more recent Roman involvement in the east and encouraged them to juxtapose past events with contemporary developments, and to look for relevant parallels. Furthermore, it stresses the often unsuccessful nature of historical Roman intervention in this region. Not only was the Roman-reared Vonones not received well in Parthia, but Antony’s actions led to instability in Armenia and Augustus’ efforts to install kings there regularly ended in failure. Now, within Annals 2 itself, the Roman ineptitude in the east described at 2.1-4 serves as a contrast to the greater competence shown by Germanicus during his travels. The king he installs in Armenia, Zeno, proves to be an able ruler who, unlike Vonones in Parthia, is popular with his subjects. Moreover, Germanicus handles the Parthian embassy that visits him at Cyrrhus with tact and good grace.19 With his sure diplomatic touch, he achieves better results than his predecessors: it looks as if engaging in polite diplomatic interaction, and selecting candidate rulers who are likely to receive domestic support, is more effective than the less sensitive approach favoured by Augustus.

Romans and Parthians: separate but equal? It is possible, of course, that Tacitus is implying that Germanicus did not go far enough when handling foreigners, and that the Dacian conqueror Trajan is being presented as the superior of his more wary predecessor in the east. But the narrative’s emphasis on diplomacy rather than warfare means that a less triumphalist reading is more plausible: Germanicus’ trajectory may be intended to strike a general cautionary note. Despite his success in diplomatic dealings, and the popularity he wins in the east (made most clear at 2.72.2, in the description of the distraught local response to his death), he falls ill there and does not return to Rome alive. If contemporary readers of the Annals were aware of Trajan’s death at Selinus in 117 and its attendant circumstances (Dio 68.33.2-3), Germanicus’ demise in Antioch would have piquantly confirmed that the east could be a dangerous place for leading Romans.23

The implications of this for Tacitus’ view of RomanParthian relations generally will be considered shortly, but a further comparison can be made, with an event that occurred in the historian’s own time. In 114, as he was proceeding through Armenia, Trajan encountered Parthamasiris, the nephew of Osroes, the Parthian monarch, who had recently been installed by him as king of Armenia. Dio describes the Roman reception of the king: after a show of defiance Parthamasiris came to Trajan’s camp, expecting to be crowned and have his position confirmed, but when he removed his diadem the Roman soldiers acclaimed Trajan as imperator (68.19.3-5): they clearly endorsed the emperor’s aggressive intentions. Parthamasiris was allowed to leave unharmed (68.20.4) but shortly afterwards he was killed in suspicious circumstances.20

Moreover, regardless of whether or not the narrative was influenced by Trajan’s fate, its depiction of a charismatic Roman figure travelling to the furthest limits of Rome’s domains and coming to grief there could also have been read as a demonstration of the futility of venturing far from the centre of the empire, let alone trying to extend it. In the Tiberian books Tacitus draws attention several times to the difficulties experienced by Romans

At 2.43.2 Tacitus records that Tiberius replaced Silanus, whose daughter was betrothed to Germanicus’ son, with the less tractable Piso (cf. p. 4 above). See Braund 1984 and Gowing 1990 on client kings (like these Armenian rulers) in general. 19  Zeno’s reign was long (see 6.31.1 for his death in 35, with Goodyear 1981: 364-365 and Gowing 1990: 325-326). 20  See Fronto, Princ. Hist. 15 and Sherk 1980: 1025-1026. 18 

Germanicus is not involved. The point may have been reinforced by the similar demise of the imprisoned Thracian king Rhescuporis a chapter earlier, at 2.67.3. 22  Cf. n. 7 above. 23  See Syme 1958: 771 on Antioch and Selinus. 21 


Germanicus, Trajan, and the Date of Annals 1-6

fighting foreigners on the fringes of the empire,24 and at 4.32.1-2 and 33.3-4 he appears to lament the differences between republican historiography, in which authors were able to include eventful battle narratives, and his own more circumscribed work. There is a sense in the text that imperial Rome has reached its furthest frontiers and the limits of its military capabilities,25 and Germanicus’ travels and their outcome serve as one way of underlining that.26

In Book 6, Parthian affairs return to the narrative after a long hiatus: at 6.31 Tacitus reports that king Artabanus, last seen communicating via ambassadors with Germanicus at 2.58, had turned despotic towards his subjects and had begun to harbour expansionist plans that included the annexation of Armenia, where king Zeno had recently died. In response a delegation of Parthian nobles covertly asks Tiberius to send out Phraates, another son of the Phraates who had sent hostages to Rome, as an alternative nominee. Tiberius does so, destinata retinens, consiliis et astu res externas moliri [maintaining his aims of dealing with external matters by planning and craft] (6.32.1) but the nobles are foiled by Artabanus and Phraates soon dies. The emperor nevertheless chooses Tiridates to replace him and also selects the Iberian Mithridates as a candidate for the Armenian throne, while Lucius Vitellius is appointed governor of Syria with the brief of overseeing developments (6.32). Fighting ensues, albeit without direct Roman involvement; Artabanus’ forces are eventually defeated and he is forced to flee (6.33-6). Vitellius leads Tiridates across the Euphrates and, after overseeing his accession, withdraws (6.37). When the Parthian narrative resumes a few chapters later, the new king is shown losing his initial support (6.41.2-43.1), and Artabanus prepares to regain power (6.43.2-44).

Nevertheless, while the basic relevance of this idea to the Parthian campaigns is evident, Tacitus may also be making a more specific point about Trajan and the east. It was shown above that several episodes in the narrative of Annals 2 can be compared with events in the early stages of Trajan’s campaigns, and that Trajan and his more heavy-handed methods do not come off well in the comparison. Germanicus’ approach does not save him from death but it enables the creation of a new stability, especially in Armenia. It looks as if the historian may be suggesting that diplomatic tactics are preferable to aggression in the east. Not only that, but another, related theme can be discerned in the text: the notion that Rome and Parthia are somehow equivalent powers in their own spheres, and that a direct confrontation between them would be undesirable. The decision to remove Vonones from Armenia, as to leave him there would put Rome at risk of direct conflict with Parthia, has already been noted (2.4.3), while in his response to the Parthian embassy Germanicus seeks to uphold the Roman-Parthian alliance (2.58.2). Furthermore, whatever the relationship of Tacitus’ comments at 2.60.4 and 61.2, 2.60.4 is a clear reference to Rome and Parthia as two great powers existing in an implicit state of co-existence,27 and it will transpire that the same idea can also be found elsewhere in the Tiberian Annals.28

Despite this failure to dislodge Artabanus permanently, this episode concludes with no disadvantage to Rome. The Roman nominee, Mithridates, is left reigning in Armenia (6.36.1-2) and no Roman blood is spilt in the process. Artabanus’ grand plans for foreign conquests come to nothing and indeed cause him to lose his throne temporarily, while by contrast Tiberius’ use of negotiation rather than Roman military force is vindicated. More generally Vitellius deploys the mere rumour of a Roman invasion of Mesopotamia to create metum Romani belli [fear of a war with Rome] (6.36.1), a prospect that is serious enough to drive Artabanus from Armenia, and then ostentatiously goes no further than the eastern bank of the Euphrates (6.37.4). Once again, in the context of Roman-Parthian relations the impression is given that it is advisable to maintain respectful diplomatic relations and not to engage in territorial expansionism, while war between the two great powers is to be avoided.

Note especially the narrow escape from Arminius at 1.65-7, the laborious and incomplete victory over rebellious Thracians at 4.51, and the large numbers lost during the Frisian revolt at 4.73.3-4. 25  See Levene 2009 on 4.32-3 and warfare in the Tiberian books generally. As he points out, Germanicus does engage in extensive fighting against the Germans at 1.50-71 and 2.5.2-26, but it might be added that this does not result in territorial gains (n.b. 2.26.1-2), and Germanicus then proceeds straight to his ill-fated trip east. Note too the regret expressed by Corbulo at 11.20.1(‘beatos quondam duces Romanos’), which contrasts imperial control of foreign policy with the allegedly more permissive past. For wide-ranging analysis of the slowing of Roman expansion under the principate, see Cornell 1993 and Sidebottom 2005. 26  Gissel 2001: 279 links the impact of Trajan’s death and a concomitant sense of the empire reaching its limits to the portrayal of Germanicus. 27  Moreover, the comment concludes Tacitus’ description of the inscription that lists Ramses’ former domains, which have now – it is implied – been succeeded by the Roman and Parthian empires. It is very hard not to see a general point about the fragility of greatness, with implications for Rome, here: cf. O’Gorman 2000: 113-114. 28  This idea unlikely to be Tacitus’ own invention: the idea that Rome and Parthia are separate but parallel powers is a minor but recurrent theme in a number of texts from the Augustan era and later. See Velleius 2.101.2, Strabo 11.9.2, Justin/Trogus 41.1.1, and Pliny, NH 5.88, with Sonnabend 1986: 200-221 and Lerouge 2007: 144-145. 24 

Tiberius’ successful eastern policy, as described in Book 6, may well contrast both with Augustus’ earlier involvement in the region and with that of Claudius, which features later in the Annals. The latter sends out a new Parthian king at the Parthians’ own request (12.10.1), but Meherdates proves a poor choice who is soon defeated (12.12.2-3, 14.2-3).29 More generally, Keitel 1978: 466-467 and passim on the less than complimentary portrayal of Claudius in this episode. 29 


Katherine Low though, it develops themes raised in Book 2, where it was implied that diplomacy works better than belligerence in the east, and that the equilibrium between Rome and Parthia should not be disturbed by war.

Borszák, S. 1969. Das Germanicusbild des Tacitus. Latomus 28: 588-600. Bowersock, G.W. 1975. The Greek-Nabataean bilingual inscription at Ruwwāfa, Saudi Arabia, in J. Bingen, G. Cambier and G. Nachtergael Le monde grec: 513522. Brussels. Bowersock, G.W. 1993. Tacitus and the province of Asia, in T.J. Luce and A.J. Woodman (eds) Tacitus and the Tacitean Tradition: 3-10. Princeton. Boyle, A.J. and Dominik, W.J. (eds) 2003. Flavian Rome. Culture, Image, Text. Leiden. Braund, D. 1984. Rome and the Friendly King. London. Cornell, T.J. 1993. The end of Roman imperial expansion, in J.W. Rich and G. Shipley (eds) War and Society in the Roman World: 139-170. London/New York. Ehrhardt, N. 1998. Parther und parthische Geschichte bei Tacitus, in J. Wiesehöfer (ed.) Das Partherreich und seine Zeugnisse – The Arsacid Empire: Sources and Documentation: 295-307. Historia Einzelschriften 122. Stuttgart. Gissel, J.A.P. 2001. Germanicus as an Alexander figure. C&M 52: 277-301. Goodyear, F.R.D. 1981. The Annals of Tacitus II (Annals 1.55-81 and Annals 2). Cambridge. Gowing, A.M. 1990, Tacitus and the client kings. TAPA 120: 315-331. Keitel, E. 1978. The role of Parthia and Armenia in Tacitus Annals 11 and 12. AJP 99: 462-473. Kelly, B. 2010. Tacitus, Germanicus and the kings of Egypt (Tac., Ann. 2.59-61). CQ 60: 221-237. Koestermann, E. 1958. Die Mission des Germanicus im Orient. Historia 7: 331-375. Laederich, P. 2001. Les limites de l’empire. Paris. Landskron, A. 2005. Parther und Sasaniden. Vienna. Leeman, A.D. 1973. Structure and meaning in the prologues of Tacitus. YCS 23, 169-208. Lepper, F.A. 1948. Trajan’s Parthian War. Oxford. Lerouge, C. 2007. L’image des Parthes dans le monde grécoromain. Stuttgart. Levene, D.S. 2009. Warfare in the Annals, A.J. Woodman (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to Tacitus: 225-238. Cambridge. Lightfoot, C.S. 1990. Trajan’s Parthian war and the fourth-century perspective. JRS 80: 115-126. Luce, T.J. and Woodman, A.J. (eds) 1993. Tacitus and the Tacitean Tradition. Princeton. Magie, D. 1950. Roman Rule in Asia Minor. Princeton. O’Gorman, E.C. 2000. Irony and Misreading in the Annals of Tacitus. Cambridge. Pelling, C.B.R. 1993. Tacitus and Germanicus, in T.J. Luce and A.J. Woodman Tacitus and the Tacitean Tradition: 59-85. Princeton. Potter, D.S. 1991. The inscriptions on the bronze Herakles from Mesene: Vologeses IV’s war with Rome and the date of Tacitus’ ‘Annales’. ZPE 88: 277290. Questa, C. 1957. Il viaggio di Germanico in Oriente e Tacito. Maia 9: 291-321.

So it seems that in the Tiberian books of the Annals a less than enthusiastic view about Trajan’s contemporary campaigns can be discerned. This can be linked to previous scholarship which, on the basis of the entire work, has argued that Tacitus favoured the use of diplomacy rather than open warfare in this context.30 What remains unclear, though, is the exact relationship of this part of the Annals to its contemporary context. Tacitus’ veiled caution can be contrasted with the aggressive pride with which Trajan’s victories were officially commemorated in Rome,31 but while it seems likely that the campaigns had begun when he was writing the first hexad, it cannot be determined for sure whether he was counselling caution and restraint for the future, or responding to the collapse of Rome’s initial successes – or even both.32 Certainty in this case is impossible. Nevertheless, it may be wrong even to seek a certain answer to this question. For Rutledge, the assumption that Tacitus sought to produce a work that could only be read in one way, and was not open to different interpretations determined by its audience rather than its author, fails to take into account the Roman habit of seeing the potential for multiple parallels between past and present in a historical text (Rutledge 1998: 143-145, 152).33 Just as Tacitus himself ‘constantly scrutinises the words and actions of various characters in his history to relate their significance’, he makes it possible for readers to impute ‘[their] own significance to the text’ (Rutledge 1998: 144). Regardless of the exact time of writing, the Tiberian books are relevant to contemporary events in the east, but the nature of that relevance would have been determined jointly by Tacitus and his readers. Bibliography Bingen, J., Cambier, G. and Nachtergael, G. 1975. Le monde grec. Brussels. Birley, A.R. 2000. The life and death of Cornelius Tacitus. Historia 49: 230-247. See Ehrhardt 1998: 305-306, citing the earlier work of Syme (1958: 493-497), who stresses Trajan’s fate but also considers Tacitus’ reports of Tiberius’ successful diplomatic strategy. 31  Numismatic evidence is especially illuminating: see Strack 1931: 219-225; Schneider 1998: 100-102; Landskron 2005: 117-120. 32  Those in Rome are unlikely to have had a clear picture of developments in the east: it can hardly be assumed that the reports sent back at this time were either punctual or accurate in all details. 33  Rutledge mentions Tacitus’ own comments at 4.33.4 about readers’ propensity to identify (and take offence at) parallels with their own time in a work, even if the author did not intend them. 30 


Germanicus, Trajan, and the Date of Annals 1-6

Ramage, E.S. 1989. Juvenal and the establishment. Denigration of predecessor in the ‘Satires’. ANRW 2.33.1: 640-707. Rich, J.W. and Shipley, G. (eds) 1993. War and Society in the Roman World. London/New York. Rutledge, S. 1998. Trajan and Tacitus’ audience: reader reception of Annals 1-2. Ramus 27: 141-159. Sailor, D. 2008. Writing and Empire in Tacitus. Oxford. Schneider, R.M. 1998. Die Faszination des Feindes: Bilder der Parther und des Orients in Rom, in J. Wiesehöfer (ed.) Das Partherreich und seine Zeugnisse – The Arsacid Empire: Sources and Documentation: 95-127. Historia Einzelschriften 122. Stuttgart. Sherk, R.K. 1980. Roman Galatia: the governors from 25 BC to AD 114. ANRW 2.7.2: 954-1052. Sidebottom, H. 2005. Roman imperialism: the changed outward trajectory of the Roman empire. Historia 54: 315-330.

Sonnabend, H. 1986. Fremdenbild und Politik: Vorstellungen der Römer von Ägypten und dem Partherreich in der späten Republik und frühen Kaiserzeit. Frankfurt. Strack, P. 1931. Untersuchungen zur römischen Reichsprägung des zweiten Jahrhunderts. I. Die Reichsprägung des Traian. Stuttgart. Syme, R. 1958. Tacitus. Oxford. Wiesehöfer, J. (ed.) 1998. Das Partherreich und seine Zeugnisse – The Arsacid Empire: Sources and Documentation. Historia Einzelschriften 122. Stuttgart. Wilson, M. 2003. After the silence: Tacitus, Suetonius, Juvenal, in A.J. Boyle and W.J. Dominik (eds) Flavian Rome. Culture, Image, Text: 523-542. Leiden. Woodman, A.J. (ed.) 2009a. The Cambridge Companion to Tacitus. Cambridge. Woodman, A.J. (ed.) 2009b. Tacitus and the contemporary scene, in A.J. Woodman (ed.) The Cambridge Companion to Tacitus: 31-43. Cambridge.


Two military camps on the Roman Limes: Dura-Europos and Novae (an example of Roman Imperial propaganda through official state religion) Oleg Alexandrov*

Introduction What could be the connection between Dura-Europos (on the right bank of the Euphrates) and Novae (on the right bank of the Danube)? During the Principate these settlements were important military camps on the Roman limes. Hence we can find a number of similar features among the military architecture, equipment, weapons, etc. But the most important element of the army was (and still is!) its soldiers. Were the Roman soldiers alike in Europe, Asia and Africa? Of course not. Roman soldiers differed according to their ethnic and social backgrounds, the native languages they used, their native religions, lifestyles, and so on. Nevertheless there was something very similar going on in their minds – the special worship of some official Roman cults. How can this uniformity be explained? Between the Balkans and Mesopotamia lies Asia Minor; was the peninsula of Asia Minor some kind of mediator in the religion of the locals? In most cases it was, but not at this time. In our opinion the real mediator was Rome itself. This assumption is verified by archaeological evidence discovered in Dura-Europos and Novae. Dura-Europos Dura-Europos (‘Fort Europos’) was a Hellenistic and Roman city built on cliffs some 90 m above the banks of the Euphrates. It is located near the village of Salhiyé in today’s Syria. Dura-Europos was founded in 303 BC by Seleucus I Nicator (Victor) on the intersection of an east– west, north–south trade and military route along the Euphrates. The new city controlled the river crossing and was part of a network of military colonies intended to secure Seleucid control of the Middle Euphrates. In the 2nd century BC, Dura was rebuilt as a great Hellenistic city, with a rectangular grid of streets arranged around a large central agora. Later DuraEuropos became a frontier fortress of the Parthian Empire and it was captured by the Romans in AD 165. Its location, on a major crossroads, made it a very *

Faculty Member, University of Veliko Tarnovo (Bulgaria).

cosmopolitan city: inscriptions in many languages have been found there and the religious buildings of various religions stand side by side. Dura-Europos was abandoned after a Sassanian siege in AD 256-257. The city eventually became covered in shifting sands and disappeared from sight. Destroyed by war and abandoned in the 3rd century AD, it lay hidden until its rediscovery in 1920. Excavations have revealed its famed synagogue, church, mithraeum, and the temples of Bel and Adonis. Due to its remarkable preservation, the site has sometimes been dubbed the ‘Pompeii of the Syrian Desert’.1 Among other important finds, a papyrus with a list of selected festivals 80 years ago was discovered at DuraEuropos. Dura papyrus N 54 was originally a roll, which had a maximum height of about 23 cm and a length which may be estimated at 120 cm. The text written in rustic capitals consisted of four broad columns about 25 cm in width, with about 60 letters to the line. The columns were separated from each other by blank spaces of 5 to 6 cm. Col. I has 29 lines, with entries for the period from January to the middle of March. Col. II has 28 lines, but the number of columns in lines III and IV remains unknown (Fink, Hoey and Snyder 1940: 1-222). The date of the document is certainly within the reign of Severus Alexander, probably between AD 223 and 227. There is evidence that the papyrus had undergone rough treatment before being discarded. Most likely the calendar was kept in the officium of cohors XX (Vicensima) Palmyrenorum. The document represents the only survived (even today) Roman military calendar named Feriale Duranum. Thanks to this calendar, the practically entire official religious system of the Roman army has been successfully reconstructed. The military rituals and ceremonies were strictly regulated, including various festivals, parades, military oaths, etc. For details, see The excavations at Dura-Europos conducted by Yale University and the French Academy of Inscriptions and Letters 1928-1937 (Final reports). 1 

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 174–180

Two Military Camps on the Roman Limes

Figure 1. The eastern part of the Roman Empire in the 2nd century AD.

Figure 2. The Roman military fortress at Dura-Europos.

Feriale Duranum Military (and civilian) festivals: January 3

Figure 3. Military calendar Feriale Duranum (detail).


Because are paid and undertaken both for the welfare of our Lord Marcus Aurelius Severus Alexander Augustus and for the eternity of the empire of the Roman nation, [to Jupiter Optimus Maximus an ox, to Juno Regina a cow, to Minerva a cow, to Jupiter Victor] an ox, [to Juno Sospes? a cow, / / / to Mars Pater a bull, to Mars Victor] a bull, to Victoria a cow / //

Oleg Alexandrov [Because honorable discharge with the enjoyment of (customary)] privileges [is given to men who have served their time] or (because) stipendia are counted [for the soldiers, to Jupiter Optimus Maximus an ox, to Juno a cow, to Minerva] a cow, to Salus a cow, to Mars Pater a bull / / / March 1 For the [birthday] ceremonies [of Mars Pater Victor to Mars] Pater Victor a bull. March 19 For the day of the Quinquatria, a supplicatio; until March 23, supplicationes. April 21 For the birthday of the Eternal City Rome, [to the Eternal City Rome a cow]. May [9-11] For the Rose-festival of the standards, a supplicatio. May 31 For the Rose-festival of the standards, a supplicatio. May 12 For the circus-races in honor of Mars, to Mars Pater Ultor a bull. August 5 For [the circus-races] in honor of Salus, to Salus a cow. June 9 For the Vestalia, to Vesta Mater a supplicatio. July 23 For the day of the Neptunalia, a supplicatio (and) a sacrifice. January 7

May 21

Because the deified Severus was saluted as Imperator by [/ / / ] to the deified Pius Severus.

Emperors’ Accessions: January 28 For the / / / and very great Parthian victory of the deified Severus and for [the accession of the deified Trajan, to Victoria] Parthica a cow, to the deified Trajan [an ox]. February 4 For the accession [of the deified Antoninus Magnus] a supplicatio; to the deified Antoninus Magnus an ox. March 7 For the accession [of the deified Marcus Antoninus and the deified Lucius Verus], to the deified Marcus an ox, [to the deified Lucius] an ox. April 9 For the accession of the deified Pius Severus, to the deified Pius Severus an ox. July 10 For the accession of the deified Antoninus Pius, to the deified Antoninus an ox. Sept. 18 For [the birthday of the deified Trajan and the accession of the deified Nerva, to the deified Trajan an ox, to the deified Nerva an ox].

Imperial Cult:

Emperors’ and Empresses’ birthdays:

Emperors’ activity (Alexander Severus and Septimius Severus):

For the birthday of the deified (empress) / / /, to the deified (empress) / / / a supplicatio. January [?] For the birthday of Lucius / / / Caesar, / / / of Lucius / / / Caesar. January 24 For the birthday [of deified Hadrian, to the deified Hadrian an ox]. April 4 For the birthday of the deified Antoninus Magnus, to the deified Antoninus an ox. April 11 For the birthday of the deified Pius Severus, to the deified [Pius] Severus an ox. April 26 For the birthday of the deified Marcus Antoninus, to [the deified Marcus] Antoninus an ox. May 7 For the birthday of the deified Julia Maesa, to [the deified] Maesa a supplicatio. May 24 For the birthday of Germanicus Caesar, a supplicatio to the memory of Germanicus Caesar. July [2-5] For the birthday of the deified Matidia, to the deified Matidia a supplicatio. July 12 For the birthday of the deified Julius, to the deified Julius an ox. August 1 [For] the birthday of the deified Claudius and the deified Pertinax, to the deified Claudius an ox; to the deified Pertinax an ox. January 8

[Because] the Emperor [Caesar Marcus Aurelius Severus Alexander] was named emperor, to Jupiter an ox, [to Juno a cow, to Minerva a cow / / /] to Mars an ox; [because] Alexander our Augustus was saluted as Imperator [for the first time] by the soldiers [of the Emperor Augustus Marcus Severus Alexander, a supplicatio / / /]. March 14 Because Alexander our [Augustus] was named [Augustus and Pater Patriae and] Pontifex Maximus, a supplicatio; [to the Genius of our Lord] Alexander [Augustus a bull / / /]. June 26 Because our Lord Marcus Aurelius Severus Alexander was named Caesar and clothed in the toga virilis, to the Genius of Alexander Augustus a bull. July 1 Because Alexander our Augustus was designated consul for the first time, a supplicatio. January 28 For the / / / and very great Parthian victory of the deified Severus and for [the accession of the deified Trajan, to Victoria] Parthica a cow, to the deified Trajan [an ox]. March 13


Two Military Camps on the Roman Limes

For the birthday of Mamaea [Augusta] mother of our Augustus, to the Juno of Mamaea Augusta [a cow]. August [?] For the birthday of the deified Martiana, [to the deified] Martiana a supplicatio. August 31 [For] the birthday [of the deified Commodus, to the deified] Commodus an ox. Sept. 18 For [the birthday of the deified Trajan and the accession of the deified Nerva, to the deified Trajan an ox, to the deified Nerva an ox]. Sept. 19 For [the birthday of the deified] Antoninus [Pius, to the deified Antoninus an ox]. Sept. [20-22] For the birthday of the deified Faustina, to the deified Faustina a supplicatio. Sept. 23 For the birthday of the deified [Augustus], to the deified Augustus [an ox].


Undoubtedly, the Feriale Duranum had a regional emphasis. Further evidence for this conclusion is that no gods from the locality of Dura appear in it; there are no unofficial gods of any sort recorded – only army festivals, Roman gods, and the cults of the reigning Emperor, Imperial women, and Divi Imperatores.

Of special interest is the internal arrangement of the chapel. On the floor, two lime slabs were laid in the middle and edged with light pink mortar. At the back were seven stone blocks with holes, most probably for the wooden podium where the standards were placed. The long limestone element and stone bases served as podia for the votive altars and small figures of military gods and emperors. Many dedicatory inscriptions were erected in the courtyard of the principia or set up in the shrine (Sarnowski 2001: 3137).

August [?]

Novae was a legionary camp and Late Roman city in the Roman province of Moesia Inferior. It is situated on the right bank of the Danube, in modern Bulgaria. The Roman military presence in the Lower Danube region started in the middle of the 1st century AD. After the Dacian wars of Emperor Trajan (98-117), when the Lower Danube limes had been pacified, Novae remained as a permanent legionary camp (castra stativa) of the legio I Italica (Ivanov 1999: 36). The most important structure at the fortress was the headquarters building (principia) which covered an area of c. 6000 m2 (59.5 x 106 m), with a monumental gate (groma), courtyard (forum militare), hall (basilica principiorum), a rear line of administrative rooms, and also a ‘shrine of the standards’ (aedes principiorum).

The classification of the Feriale Duranum as a standard calendar in empire-wide usage rather than an isolated roster of festivals peculiar to a single unit has been challenged from time to time. For example Ramsay MacMullen (1981: 110; see also Gilliam 1954: 183-196; Nock 1952: 187-252) observes that nothing indicates that a uniform calendar was in force for the single province of Syria or even for the whole Dura station.

About thirty years ago, after detailed analysis of the epigraphic monuments discovered in the castra of legio I Italica (Novae), the Polish scholar J. Kolendo reached significant conclusions concerning the function of the

Furthermore, some of the official religious inscriptions from Novae will be singled out in this contribution, in order to illustrate the official character of the Feriale Duranum, within the context of the Roman military calendar from Dura-Europos.


Figure 4. The Roman military fortress at Novae.



Oleg Alexandrov Inscriptions set up by the primi pili at Novae 1. Limestone pedestal (fragmentary) discovered in AD 1965 in the legionary principia; dimensions (h/w/d): 2.04 x 1.04 x 0.93 m; dedication to Iuppiter Optimus Maximus for the welfare of Emperor Severus Alexander; date: 5 October 227.3


A – I(ovi) O(ptimo) M(aximo) / Depulsori / [pr]o salute d(omini) n(ostri) / [M(arci) Aurel(ii) Severi Ale]/[xandri] Pii Felicis / Aug(usti) / G(aius) Baienius G(ai) f(ilius) Clau/ dia (tribu) [I]anuarius Cele/ia p(rimus) [p(ilus)] leg(ionis) I Ital(icae) Seve/rianae ex voto posu/it. B – Dedic(atum) III non(as) Octobres / Albino et Maximo c[o(n)s(ulibus)] / per L(ucium) Mantennium Sa/binum leg(atum) Aug(usti) pr(o) pr(aetore) / et Servaeum Corne/ lianum leg(atum) leg(ionis). C – [A]diutrix legio prim[a] tirone / probat[o] / [--- c]aliga prima cu[m] compare / cent[urio]ne / [---]cto Baienium / [--] / [---]AC[---]VMA felice / [---] pot[--- ---]M / [---] / DOM [--- R]omam misist[I] / [---] / [---]SA Iovi [--- prim]us pilus tibi / San[cto] / [ex] voto posuit PO[--- Ia]nuarius / a[ram?]. 2. A limestone pedestal discovered in 1987 in the legionary principia (in situ); dimensions (h/w/d): 1.67 x 0.88 x 0.87 m; dedication to Mars Victor for the welfare of Emperor Elagabalus; date: AD 218-222.4 Marti Victori leg(ionis) I Ital(icae) / Antoninianae pro salute Imp(eratoris) Caes(aris) [M(arci) Aur(eli) Anton(ini)] / Pii Felicis Aug(usti) / divi Antonini fil(ii) / M(arcus) Val(erius) M(arci) Val(erii) Mucacenti / fil(ius) Quir(ina) Flavianus domo / Cirta p(rimus) p(ilus) ex eq(uite) Romano / Aquilae d(ono) d(edit). 3. A limestone altar (ara) originating from Novae; dimensions (h/w/d): 1.61 x 0.79 x 0.67 m; dedication to Di Militares, Virtus, Signa legionis and Aquila sancta; date: 20 September 224.5

b Figure 5. The headquarters building (principia) at Novae.

А – Dis Militaribus Genio Virtuti A/quilae Santc(tae) signis/ que leg(ionis) I Ital(icae) Seve/rianae M(arcus) Aurel(ius) / Iustus domo Ho[r]/rei Margensis mu(nicipii) Moesiae Superio/ris ex (trecenarius) p(rimus) p(ilus) / d(onum) d(edit). B – Dedic(atum) XII kal(endas) / Oct(obres) Iuliano / II et Crispino / co(n)s(ulibus) / [pe]r Annium Italicum / leg(atum) Aug(usti) pr(o) pr(аetore).

primus pilus. It became clear that, besides its military function, the primus pilus had a leading religious role in the army. He was the officer who organized the conducting of the official cult rituals within the legion (Kolendo 1980: 49-60). Thanks to the many years of excavations in the camp of legio I Italica, nowadays we have several interesting dedications set up by the primi pili. Most have been found in situ in the principia, or used nearby as spoliae.2

4. A limestone pedestal discovered in 1976 near the legionary principia; dimensions (h/w/d): 0.83 x 1.39 x ILBulg: no. 272; IGLN: no. 25. IGLN: no. 33. 5  CIL III: no. 7591=6224; ILBulg: no. 282; IGLN: no. 12.

As Feriale Duranum is dated to the period of the Severian dynasty, in this study we have taken into consideration only the dedications of primipili from Novae dated to the same epoch.





Two Military Camps on the Roman Limes




Figure 6. The headquarters building (principia) at Novae.

0.47 m; perhaps a statue base and with the interesting inscription – Signum originis; date: AD 218-222.6

et kastrorum / M(arcus) Aurelius M(arci) f(ilius) Aelia (tribu) / Paulinus Oviliavis p(rimus) p(ilus) / leg(ionis) I Ital(icae) Aquilae d(ono) d(edit). B – Felicissi[mis tem]/poribus dd(dominorum) [nnn(ostrorum trium)] / imp(eratore) Anton[ino Aug(usto)] / ter [et Geta Caes(are)] / iterum co(n)s(ulibus) i[dibus] / Mai(i)s dedi[cante] / Iul(io) Faustin[iano] / Co(n)s(ulari) et Val(erio) O[---]/tiano le[g(ato) (legionis).

А – Signum originis / pro salute dominorum n(ostrorum) Imp(eratorum trium) / Severi et Antonini Aug(ustorum duorum) [et P(ublii) Septimi(i)] / [Getae nob(ilissimi) Caes(aris) et Iuliae Augustae / matris Augusti [et Cae]s(aris) 6 


ILBulg: no. 268; IGLN: no. 47.


Oleg Alexandrov 5. In addition – an inscription discovered near the next legionary camp in the same province – Durostorum;7 dedication to Iuppiter Optimus Maximus, Iuno, Mars Pater and Roma Aeterna set up by primus pilus legionis XI Claudiae; date: AD 222-235 (Velkov 1971: 121-123).

in which soldiers (in their name), demonstrated their loyalty to their supreme commander – the Emperor. The parades were held on the military parade ground (campus), and the rituals – in the most sacred part of the camp, principia, where the ‘shrine of the standards’ (aedes principiorum) was erected. All the dedications (without exception) were found exactly in that area and represent excellent evidence of the Empire’s policy to enforce equally the official religious ideology and state propaganda.

I(ovi) O(ptimo) M(aximo) et Iunoni R[egi]/nae Minervae M[a]/rti patri Urbi Roma[e] / aeternae ceterisquae / Diis immortalibus L(ucius) / Flavius L(ucii) fil(ius) Palatina / Victor Ostia p(rimus) p(ilus) leg(ionis) XI Cl(audiae) [A] lexandrina[e] / cum L(ucio) Flavio Italo fil/io equite Romano votum solvit.

Abbreviations IGLN

Kolendo, J. and Božilova, V. 1997. Inscriptions Grecques et Latines de Novae (Mésie Inferieure). Bordeaux. ILBulg Gerov, B. 1989. Inscriptiones Latinae in Bulgaria repertae. Sofia.

Conclusion Some generalizations can be presented by way of a conclusion. The structure of the deities worshipped by the primi pili of Legio I Italica most closely resemble the system of celebrated deities, according to the military calendar found at Dura-Europos.8 The majority of the dedications conforms to the official state cults of the Capitoline Triad and the Imperial Cult. 

Bibliography Alexandrov, O. 2010. Religion of the Roman Army in Lower Moesia Province (1st-4th c. AD). Veliko Tarnovo. Fink, R.O., Hoey, A.S. and Snyder, W.F. 1940. Feriale Duranum. Yale Classical Studies 7: 1-222. Fishwick, D. 1988. Dated inscriptions and the Feriale Duranum. Syria 65: 349-361. Gilliam, J. 1954. The Roman Military Feriale. Harvard Theological Review 47: 183-196. Ivanov, R. 1999. The defence system along the lower Danube between Dorticum and Durostorum from Augustus to Mauricius. Sofia. Kolendo, J. 1980 (1982). Le rôle du primus pilus dans la vie religieuse de la légion. Archeologia 31: 49-60. Warsaw. Sarnowski, T. 2001. Headquarters building (principia) of Legio I Italica. Novae – 40 Years of Excavation (ed. P. Dyczek): 31-37. Warsaw. Velkov, V. 1971. Un Ostiense nelle Mesia Inferiore nel III sec. d. C. Archeologia Classica 23: 121-123.

The epigraphic evidence from Novae confirms that the Feriale Duranum was a copy of the calendar created by the Imperial administration in Rome and distributed among the military forces of the Empire. Access to this military religious calendar was made via the primus pilus, whose duty was to observe and execute the religious system. There is no doubt that the primi pili from Novae used a copy of this calendar. It is not accidental that the dedications set up by primi pili are relatively well dated by the name of the emperor, for whose welfare they prayed. Some bear an exact date of the year, which is explicitly marked.9 All these precisely dated monuments were made on dates that were important for the troops, or were related to commemorations of significant military festivals. During these festivals, a large number of soldiers from the military unit took part in the religious ceremonies,

It is so far the only preserved primus pilus dedication from this legion, the legionary principia of Durostorum being, as yet, undiscovered. However, the dedication is indicative of the religious role of the primus pilus in the legion. 8  All the dedications (10) set up by the primi pili at Novae, from the 2nd and 3rd centuries AD, have been examined by the present author – Alexandrov 2010: 178-180, 358-360, 405, 441. 9  For a collection of other well-dated dedications, see Fishwick 1988: 349-361. 7 


The political propaganda of the cities of Thrace and the Asianic provinces. Some aspects of interactions (A preliminary study)


Ivo Topalilov The influence of the Asianic society over the Thracian has not been a task of special studies so far. When happened, it was concentrated on the structure of the so-called ‘Trajanic’ cities in Thrace which were Greek poleis of Asianic type.1 Later, however, the same author argued in the case of the society at Roman Serdica, again a product of the ‘Trajanic urbanization’, that this city along with others in Thrace were constituted after Nicopolis in Epirus founded by Augustus.2 The arguments rely on the inner organization the newly founded ‘Trajanic’ peregrine Thracian cities with the autonomous system of governing including institutions, magistrates and others, but also division into smaller administrative parts named phylai. It was these observations, however, that make the Asianic prototype of the Thracian cities more reliable since in some cases even the names of the phylai reassembled. This is not surprising, having in mind the migration process that occurred in 1st-3rd c. of immigrants from the Asianic provinces, mostly from the neighbor ones such as Asia and especially Bithynia advanced to Thrace.3 Indeed, the studies based on the inscriptions found in Thrace reveal that these immigrants were mostly craftsmen, artists and athletes,4 but some cases such as for instance that of Οὔλπιος Ἱερώνυμος, ἀρχιερώμενος in Augusta Traiana,5 reveals that some of these immigrants in fact received high position in the local society being a part of the municipal elite. Besides, the creation of the Foundation myth as a reflection of the glorious past of the community, especially in the cases when atticised, was in the hand of the intellectuals from the so-called ‘Second Sophistic’ which was widely spread in Bithynia. Some of them visited Thrace.6 It is not here the intention to study the political propaganda carried out by the cities in the Asianic provinces, as it has already been done on many occasions.7 Unlike that, the political propaganda My sincere thanks go to H. Bru and to A. Dumitru for improving the text of this contribution. 1  Геров 1959/1960, 221, 260. 2  Геров 1969, 123. 3  The close relations between Bithynia and Thrace have pre-Roman tradition – see for this recently Corsten 2007. 4  See for instance Sharankov 2007b; Avram 2013. 5  IGBulg V, 5599. 6  See Bowie 1980, 53-60. 7  See Burrell 2004; Collas-Heddeland 2002, 107-121; Dräger 1993; Franke, Nollé 1997; Franke 1968; Friesen 1995, 229-250; Kienast 1995; *

in Roman Thrace was sporadically examined and only some features revealed;8 a full study on this phenomenon is still awaited. So, in order a further study to be made on the impact of the Asianic practices and especially those in Asia and Bithynia and Pontus on the cities in Roman Thrace, a short synopsis of the known cases will be made, so a further step could be done into this aspect. When studying the various aspects of the political propaganda exercised by the cities in Roman Thrace, it should be underlined that the study proposed here is of preliminary character and may not cover all possible manifestations due to the paucity of sources. Despite the variety of sources – numismatic, epigraphic, and literary, in some cases they are sporadic and unique which makes some of the thesis that are advanced in the bibliography and these that will be proposed in this study more or less hypothetical especially in the cases where no specifically explication is made. It is also of importance that the nature of the available source itself, as some of them may rely on historical or trustful events, while others may just shows the ambitions of local citizens, municipal elite etc. In this sense one should remind the case with one magistrate of Smyrna named Attalus who sponsored a coin issue of homonoia between two cities whose citizenship he held.9 A step in this direction is also K. Harl’s study.10 At least one example in Thrace might be explained in that way – the one with the use of Ulpia in the city-title of Topeiros on some coin issues connected more or less with Caracalla’s visit in 212 AD,11 but it is possible that some more cases existed. Like the cities in Asia whose title was divided as official and unofficial,12 in some cases it is possible to recognize this practice also in Thrace. Despite the fact that the local coin issues inform the wider public of proper political attitudes, ambitions, and achievements of the municipal elite,13 in some cases when combining Laronde 2004, 187-193; Levick 2004, 255-275; Mac Sweeney 2013; Magie 1950; Price 1998; Puech 2004, 357-404; Robert 1977, 1-39; Robert 1989; Sheppard 1984-1986, 229-252; Mitchell 2001. 8  See Topalilov, 2015, 157-177; Топалилов 2015, 219-241; Топалилов 2016, 366-391. 9  See Sheppard 1984-1986, 232, n. 22. 10  Harl 1987. 11  Топалилов 2005. 12  See study of Dräger 1993, 107-142. 13  See the study of Hartmann, G. Macdonald 1969; Harl 1987.

Colonial Geopolitics and Local Cultures (Archaeopress 2021): 181–204

Ivo Topalilov with the epigraphic inscriptions, official or private, they may be used in the same way.

Some contradictions, however, might be observed if this thesis is accepted. Thus, despite the fact that the title of μητρόπολις τῆς Θρᾳκῶν ἐπαρχείας is attested by both numismatic and epigraphic evidence, it has been applied to Philippopolis only; no sign of it has reached us on Perinthos despite the abundant coinage and epigraphic inscriptions. The question is more suspicious having in mind that some Perinthian autonomous emissions were issued at the end of 1st c.19 along the provincial coinage itself.20 On the contrary, the honorary titles and privileges that the city received thought the 2nd and 3rd c. such as for example the neocorate title and the divine founder such as ΗΡΑΚΛΗС ΚΤΙСΤΗС etc. have been fully exposed on the local coin issues.21 It is well established that in Malalas’s time, the title of metropolis was applied to each provincial capital and has nothing to do with the provincial assembly.

Indeed, the political propaganda for one of the cities in Roman Thrace has no such a great diversity of features as that in the Asianic provinces, but it still deals with a great deal of them. Among the most important are the metropolis title, the development of the Foundation myth, festivals organized within Concordia, and all the aspects of homonoia, but also the Concordia in various aspects – political, religious, cultural etc. Consequently, the practices are of local municipal, regional (inter-city) and provincial importance. Some of these questions will be discussed below as a full study of it is not possible here since the limit of the text. It is also due to this reason that the imperial power and the Thracian cities will stay beyond the scope of this study since it itself deserves a special chapter.

Another contradiction may be seen when studying the question when the Thracians Common Council (τὸ κοινὸν τῆς Θρᾳκῶν ἐπαρχείας) was established. The discussion on the matter is not yet ended, but a consensus between the scholars is achieved that this was during the time of Flavii,22 and more precisely in the time of Domitian.23 It was at that time when Philippopolis was granted the title μητρόπολις τῆς Θρᾳκῶν ἐπαρχείας as an inscription found in Plovdiv reveals.24 At that time a statue of Domitian was also set up in Philippopolis,25 and in 88 AD the first coins were issued for the city.26 We may suggest that all these three events are connected each other – by granting Philippopolis the title of μητρόπολις τῆς Θρᾳκῶν ἐπαρχείας. In accordance with it a theater where the members of the koinon assembled was constructed.27

The metropolis title The title of metropolis which is attested on the epigraphic monuments and numismatic issues in Thrace as μητρόπολις τῆς Θρᾳκῶν ἐπαρχείας is to be found only for one of cities there – that of Philippopolis. Despite this it has been suggested that it could be implied also to the provincial capital Perinthos.14 Argument for this is the statement made by John Malalas: Ἔκτισε δέ καὶ εἰς Παννονίαν καὶ εἰς Κομμαγενίαν τὰς ἐπαρχίας πολλὰ καὶ τὴν Εὐρᾠπην δὲ ἀπὸ Θρᾴκης ἐμέρισε, κτίσας Ἡράκλειαν πόλιν τὴν πρᾠνη λεγομένην Πέρινθον. Ἥντινα ἐποίησε μητρόπολιν, δοὺς αὐτῃ ἄρχοντα…15

The establishment of the koinon of the Thracians during the time of Domitian finds parallel with the establishment of the provincial assembly in the neighbouring province of Macedonia with its seat in Beroia, but also in Syria and Tyr, and probably Ancyra in Galatia.28 If so, we should therefore to expect a similar development at least between Beroia and Philippopolis.

This statement seems to be after that of Suetonius which has been accepted also by Eusebius:16 Achaϊam Lyciam Rhodum Byzantium Samum libertate adempta, item Thraciam, Cilicam et Comagenen ditionis regiae usqae ad id tempus, in provinciarum formam redegit.17

It is known by two epigraphic monuments that after Domitian death and the decision of damnatio memoriae,29 Beroia would be very much likely to have lost its status of a ‘mother-city’. That is why in the

Since Thrace has already been created as a Roman province by that time, viz. the time of Vespasian here raises a huge contradiction. In fact, it is proposed that it may have been a mistake and it should not be read Thracia but Trachiam.18 As the province had already been established, it is highly likely that in this case we are dealing with the establishment of the provincial assembly of Thrace (τὸ κοινόν τῶν Θρακῶν) and the provincial capital was chosen initially for its seat, i. e. μητρόπολις τῆς Θρᾳκῶν ἐπαρχείας.

Schönert 1965, 106 ff. Schönert 1965, 137 ff. 21  Schönert 1965, 120-126. 22  Тачева 2004, 124. 23  Sharankov 2007a, 521; Топалилов 2007, 256-260. 24  Sharankov 2005, 241-242. 25  On the statue and its date – see Шаранков 2004, 148-153. 26  See Мушмов 1024; see also RPC II, 76-77. 27  On the theater – see most recently Топалилов 2012, 131-137; on the earlier date – Топалилов 2012, 133; Шаранков 2017, 780. 28  See on them Deininger 1965. 29  On this see Suet. Dom., 23; on the damnatio memoriae – see Varner 1993. 19  20 

Sayar 1998, 114-115. Joannes Malalas’s Chronographia X, 339. 16  Eusebius, Chron, 74. 17  Suet., Vesp. 8, 4. 18  See Jones 2001, 5, 62-63. 14  15 


The political propaganda of the cities of Thrace and the Asianic provinces

time of Domitian’ successor Nerva a special delegation headed by the archiereus of the koinon Q. Popillius Python was sent to the emperor asking for preserving the status and privileges granted in the time of Domitian. The embassy gained success and Beroia preserved its status.30

Asia Minor with Galatian origin, from Ankyra36 or Pergamon. He had some links to the Galatian tetrarchs and was initially added to the equestrian order in the time of Vespasian, Titus or Domitian.37 In the time of Trajan, he entered the senatorial order and was already consul suffectus in late 100 AD. According to an epigraphic monument found in Rome he became magister fratrum Arvalium the following year, a position which as is well known required senatorial rank.38 This inscription provides the terminus ante quem of the inscription on the Philippopolis base, where he was still presented as an equestrian. N. Sharankov assumes that his procuratorship occurred in the time of Domitian, probably between 85 and 95,39 while V. Gerasimova is inclined to accept that it was in the first years of Trajan’s rule and more precisely 98-99.40

If Philippopolis was granted the title metropolis in the time of Domitian the damnatio memoriae of this emperor should also affect its status. And indeed we have some evidence that a problem of this kind might have occurred in Philippopolis and the city lost its title. Thus, among the statues set up on the theater in Philippopolis a statue of Homonoia was found possibly erected between 95-105 AD. The inscription reveals that an homonoia between Philippopolis and Perinthos31 probably as a consequence of major change affected the political status and therefore title of both cities.32 Having in mind the lower level of urbanization in Thrace at that time, and the fact that such rivalry would not existed until the beginning of Elagabalus’s reign, the only administrative abutment between them was seat of the provincial assembly. Indirect clues on this occasion are two statues of this time set up by the Boule and Demos honouring τὸ κοινοβούλιον τῆς Θρᾳκῶν ἐπαρχείας33 and Ti. Claudius Sacerdos Iulianus honoured as εὐεργέτης τῆς μητροπόλειως (sic).34 These inscriptions make me believe that the only possible rivalry between Philippopolis and Perinthos that early time in Roman Thrace should be in the term of metropolis and the seat of the Thracians Common Council. So, we may conclude that near the years when all these statues were set up, the abutment between the provincial capital Perinthos and Philippopolis was over, and as the inscriptions reveal that Philippopolis received the title metropolis again. Having in mind the parallel with Macedonian Beroia I would suggest that Philippopolis lost in the time of Nerva its title metropolis which was shifted to the provincial capital. In the very early years of Trajan’s rule, however, another change occurred and the title was given to Philippopolis back. It is certain that this caused frictions between both cities which were solved as the statues set up on this occasion reveal.

It seems that the title metropolis was not connected always with the provincial assembly in Thrace. On the coin issues of Philippopolis dated in the governorship of T. Statilius Barbarus (196-198) on the reverse a new legend appeared ΜΗΤΡ ΦΙΛΙΠΠΟΠΟΛΕΩC,41 with standard ΦΙΛΙΠΠΟΠΟΛΕΙΤΩΝ and continued until the time of Elagabal.42 Initially this new legend led some scholars to the conclusion that it was during the reign of Septimius Severus when Philippopolis gained the status of metropolis.43 These should be denied, and it is suggested that the manner of writing on the coin issues until the time of Septimius Severus would not let to add the title of metropolis and therefore makes coin legends irrelevant.44 It is true that the metropolis legend is cited on coin issues of great size, but coins of this size were also issued in the time before Septimius Severus. I would therefore prefer to find in this legend a sign of political propaganda, which is also attested with other examples.45 For a different kind of interpretation, more or less close to the opinion of G. Bowersock that this was in fact just a honorific title, indicate the provinces with more than one metropolis.46 These examples reveal that this title may well be more or less prestigious

The statue of C. Iulius Sacerdos Iulianus, procurator Thraciae, honoured as benefactor of the metropolis may reveal the person who was responsible for this final change.35 He was a homo novus belonging to a group of senators of eastern origin, probably originated from

In Ankyra an inscription was found for a certain Ti. Claudius Sacerdos, who was ἀπόγονος τατράρχων – see Halfmann 1979, 116, and who probably was the son of T. Claudius Sacerdos Iulianus. If so, T. Claudius Sacerdos Iulianus probably was linked to the tetrarchs in Galatia – see also Sharankov 2005b, 236. 37  Sharankov 2005a, 236, no. 10, contra Halfmann 1979, 78. 38  Halfmann 1979, 116. 39  Sharankov 2005a, 237. 40  Герасимова 2003, 68. 41  Мушмов 1924, 246-247, 249-52 etc., №№ 272-3, 287-8, 291-312 etc. 42  Мушмов 1924, 272-273, 274-8, №№ 463-468, 476-481, 483-509. 43  Mihailov 1963, 118; Puech 2004, 367; Ботева 1997. 44  Sharankov 2005a, 241. 45  See Puech 2004, 370-374. 46  See the examples in Puech 2004. 36 

Papazoglu 1988, 143-144. Ἡ βουλὴ{ι} καὶ ὁ/ [δήμ]ος τὸν Περίν-/[θιον δήμο]ν τὸν/ἀδελ[φὸν τῆς δι-]/ηνεκοῦς εὐνο[ί]-/ας καὶ ὁμονοίας/ χάριν/ ἐτείμεσεν – Sharankov 2005b, 58-59. 32  Sharankov 2005b, 60-61. 33  Sharankov 2005b, 59-60. 34  The inscriptions is published in Герасимова 2003, 68-70 and Sharankov 2005a, 235-237: Ἡ βουλὴ καὶ ὁ δ-/ῆμος ὁ Φιλιππο-/ πολειτῶν ἐτείμη-/σεν τόν εὐεργέτην/ τῆς μητροπόλειως (sic)/ Τιβέριον Κλαύδιον/ Σακέρδοτα Ίου-/λιανὸν ἐπίτροπον/ Σεβαστοῦ. 35  See on this Топалилов 2005; Topalilov 2017. 30  31 


Ivo Topalilov and not necessary connected with the seat of the provincial assembly.

to the grounds: political unit, celebration of ending of a quarrel, economics, organization of festivals etc.

In order to solve the problem we may turn our attention to the political situation in Thrace when this title appeared. It was during the governorship of T. Statilius Barbarus (196-198), i. e. immediately after the end of controversial Civil war of 193-196 AD in which Philippopolis acted on the right side; the coins issued for Septimius Severus with the name of Caelius Oneratus (194-195) clearly reveal the sympathy or even support of the city for the victorious emperor. With this Philippopolis joined the group of Pautalia and Perinthos, but since the former issued coins for Claudius Albinus it was only Perinthos that gained reward by receiving the title of neokoros during the governorship of T. Statilius Barbarus (195-198).47 It is quite suspicious that the title of ΜΗΤΡΟΠΟΛΙΣ also appeared at that time in Philippopolis.

Political value Some examples belong to this group of homonoia in Thrace. Among the manual examples are those between Perinthos and Nicomedia and Byzantium and Nicaea. It is said that the former in the civil war of 193-196 took the side of victorious Septimius Severus while the latter – the opposite side of Pescenius Niger.51 Some problems here arise when considering these Homonoiai (Concords). They are attested on special homonoia coin issues such as it is the case with Byzantium and Nicaea, struck as early as 252/253 when Byzantion also struck emission with the image of Trebonianus Gallus52 and after.53 The images and legends do not allow any conclusion on the grounds for this coinage, despite the image of tuna fish that is depicted on some issues, and the main aim of this homonoia coinage still remains unclear.54

The Concordia The homonoia (concord) between the cities is one of the main characteristics of the political propaganda in the Greek East of the Roman empire. Its roots go down to the 5th c. BC, and through the years it was preserved, but also transformed. As the speeches of Dio Chrysostom48 and Aristides49 imply, the homonoia in the time of the Roman empire was dealing with various aspects of the life of the ancients such as shared citizenship, extradition agreements, sharing economic resources, celebration of ending of a quarrel between two communities, trade disputes, revenues, intermarriage, and especially titulature and status of the city within the province itself. This is in sharp contrast to the initial idea of avoiding the stasis, and preservation of national solidarity. In the Roman time in some cases it represents the idea of Greek consolidation within the Empire, but also its independence or at least an attempt to limit a Roman intervention into the Greek matters. The study made by A.R.R. Sheppard made a great deal of it.50 In this sense, the promotion of celebration of homonoia (Concord) should not be regarded only as an ordinary political act by two cities, but also a recognition of the ideals of the Greeks.

The attribution of the case of homonoia between Perinthos and Nicomedia to the Civil war of 193-196 AD55 is also doubtful since it is attested on a homonoia coin which was issued during the reign of Gordian III. The ground for this concord might lay in common support of Septimius Severus in the Civil war of 193196 and a vital partnership between them eventually established one of which features could be the homonoia under question. If so, we may assume that this concord was advanced by Perinthos on assume that it was on this coin issues where it appeared. An inscription set up in Perinthos for ἡ λαμπροτάτη μητρόπολις τῆς Ἀσίας νεωκόρος Κυζικηνῶν πόλις during the time of M. Ulpius Senecio Saturninus, legatus Augusti pro praetore suggests homonoia between these two cities.56 The possible date is the early years of Severus Alexander,57 and this case is attributed to these homonoiai between Perinthos and the cities of the south coast of the Sea of Marmara which are interpreted as evidence for ‘economic interdependence of the olive-growing country … and the wheat fields of Thrace’.58 It seems a very plausible explanation, but I hardly could agree that this is the case with Cyzicus where the provincial legate of Thrace was involved and even declared as the patron of the Concord; no such involvement of the high Roman authority is attested in the other cases of homonoia with economic

Thrace was also involved in, but not in that scale such as the Asianic cities. The examples, we are aware of up to know, reveal that it was between the cities and within the city. Their also reveal that only four of all the cities in Thrace claimed Concord namely Perinthos, Philippopolis, Byzantion, and Bizye. In the next lines they will be presented in separate paragraphs according

See Robert 1977, 22-26; Shepard 1984-1986, 237. Schönert-Geiss 1972, 122, № 1836. 53  Schönert-Geiss 1972, 21. 54  Schönert-Geiss 1972, 22. 55  Schönert-Geiss 1972, 21. 56  Robert 1974, 69-74; IMT Kyz Kapu Dağ 1449. 57  Thomasson 2009, 68; PIR V 568; Burrell 2004, 95-96 (before 230 AD). 58  Sheppard 1984-1986, 232-233; also Robert 1989, 294 ff. 51  52 

See the coin issues published in Schönert 1965 and discussed in Burrell 2004. 48  Dio Chrysostom. 49  Aristides, On Concord with the Nicaeans, XXXVIII. 50  Sheppard 1984-1987, 229-252. 47 


The political propaganda of the cities of Thrace and the Asianic provinces

terms. Moreover, the rest of the homonoiai between Perinthos and the cities of south coast of the Sea of Marmara are attested only on coin issues which are dated later, to the time of Gordian III.59 Nonetheless, it was of importance for both cities as Cyzicus copied the statue of M. Ulpius Senecus Saturninus.

such imperial festivals or granted neokorate were made, so it seems to me that the economic terms in most of Ephesus’s homonoiai are most plausible explanation. This short review shows that the similar homonoiai coin issues attested between Perinthos and Nicomedia, Ephesus and Smyrna respectively should not be attributed to other type of Concord67 which will be discussed below.

We may suggest that another homonoia celebrated in Perinthos may be attributed to the group of political or cultural unit. As one inscription reveals, the ‘Association of Friends of Apamea’ was honoured in Perinthos and homonoia celebrated.60 It is assumed this homonoia have mostly economic terms,61 but may not be necessary since the existence of such kind of association may also show other than economic activities.62 For the possible different meaning it may be pointed out that this was the only association of this kind honoured in Perinthos despite the fact that there are homonoiai celebrated by that city with more or less economic terms as will be shown below. It is true that the close contacts between the cities will stimulate the trade between them, but this is a consequence rather than reason.

Some cases of homonoiai in Thrace may be attributed to establishment of common festivals. It is the homonoia that was promoted between Byzantion and Nicaea. In the coin issues from the time of Volusian struck for Byzantion in 252-253 the image of spherical crown is depicted68 which is an attribute of the agonos that were held in various cities in Thrace during the time of Severans.69 The scarcity of epigraphic evidence from both sides is not of much help, but we may suggest that in the time of Volusian a common festival in Byzantion was celebrated. It seems, however, that this festival was not the only one event in homonoia program between these two cities and the coin issues followed with different depiction. This is an argument also for a real festival event happened, and not merely symbolic.

Common festival Some of the homonoiai may well be linked with the establishment and celebration of imperial festival. It is S.R.F. Price who is inclined to accept that and according to his idea by such homonoia coin issues the attention of other cities was drawn to the event.63 He cites the example with Mytilene’s games in honour of Augustus that were proclaimed all over the Mediterranean, Pergamum, Actium, Tarraco, Brundisium etc.64 Another important similar case with that with Ephesus who organized festival which led eventually to the third neokorate in 211 AD65 with the participation of cities from Asia Minor as well as Carthage.66

It seems that Byzantion was involved in another homonoia of this type, that one with neighbor city Bizye. It is attested again on homonoia coin issue dated to the time of the emperor Philip I (244-249) and struck for Bizye.70 The iconography does not allow any interpretation with certainty, although a political unit between these two cities is proposed.71 It makes an impression that it ended with the massive and devastating Barbarian invasions in the Balkan provinces and probably replaced by another one between Byzantion and Nicaea. The celebration of the Rome’s one thousandth anniversary in 248 AD is a good reason for organizing a common festival that would be more grandiose than if each of the cities did it of its own. The lack of any symbols makes this only hypothetical.

This idea opens new horizons, but it should not be accepted unquestionably since the practice with proclaiming an imperial festival in such way seems not being widely spread. If it was, it was just occasionally, and it was not followed even in Ephesus where the abundant coinage of this time is attested. In fact, there are homonoiai coin issues with the image of Caracalla between Ephesus, Sardis and Magnesia, but they seem to have been struck after the event when no necessity needed. One can note also that these are few examples, and homonoiai coins of Ephesus were issued when no

One more homonoia in Thrace which is said to belong to the group of political unit may actually belong to the group of common festival establishment and celebration. This is the concord between Hadrianopolis and Nicopolis ad Istrum. It is attested on an issue with ΑΔΡΙΑΝΟΠΟΛΕΙΤΩΝ with star and crescent on one side and ΝΙΚΟΠΟΛΙ ΠΡΟΣ Ι with Concordia on the other. The coin issue was discussed several times in the literature,72 and probably made for Nicopolis ad Istrum when Flavius Ulpianus was legatus Augusti pro praetore

Schönert 1965, 22-23, 268-270; on the neokorate of Cyzicus – see Burrell 2004, 95-96. 60  τó συνέδριον τῶν Φιλαπαμέων – see Robert 1989, 283-291; Sayar 1998, 235, 55; Sharankov 2005b, 61-62. 61  See Robert 1989 286-289; Sheppard 1984-1986, 232-233. 62  See the examples cited in Robert 1974, 284-286. 63  Price 1998, 127 ff. 64  Price 1998, 127-128. 65  On the date on type see Burrell 2004, 71-75. 66  Price 1998, 129. 59 

See Robert 1989, 291, n. 51; 292 ff; Sheppard 1984-1986, 233. Schönert-Geiss 1972, 124, № 1849. 69  See Герасимов 1958, 289-302. 70  Schönert-Geiss 1972, 23; 130, № 1885. 71  See Jurukova 1981, 17. 72  See Pick 1898, 347, № 1217; Мушмов 1912, 56; Юрукова 1987, 1718. 67  68 


Ivo Topalilov (210-211).73 If this coin issue really existed,74 it is said that it relies on a political unity between two cities in Thrace75 or organizing or attending a common festival. I think the latter is nearer the truth as to it was in 211 AD when three agones were organized in Thrace – in Byzantion, Perinthos, and Anchialos. And since the mint for Hadrianopolis did not work at that time,76 the homonoia coinage was issued for Nicopolis ad Istrum. If so, we can speculate further with the assumption that this festival would be more grandiose and prestigious if organized by both cities, especially having in mind the tax of 700000 denarii that Nicopolis ad Istrum paid to imperial family a bit earlier;77 the prestige of the town should be restored and what better idea than that of organizing pompous festival.

were not promoted earlier as Concord between these cities arise?83 The trade disputes mentioned by Dio Cassius as a cause of friction may well been suitable to neighbouring cities within the province, but not much more.84 What also makes impression is that all these Perinthos’ homonoiai are dated to one spam of time. It might be due to a special program that was followed. Probably, it is not surprising that homonoia type almost prevailed on the Perinthos coinage in these years. I would not, therefore, been surprised if all the homonoiai claimed by Perinthos in the middle of 3rd c. AD, especially with the remote cities, were not more of any practical value, but merely prestigious acts. And the easiest way to achieve it was with its partners – commercial, political, cultural, and neighbors.

Economic terms

One more example is attributed by some scholars to the group of homonoiai explicable by economic terms. It is the case between Byzantion and Nicaea where the design of the homonoia coin issues makes P. R. Franke advanced the hypothesis of an agreement on tuna fishing rights between the cities.85 The idea has been already criticized,86 but some doubts still remain since the message advanced by Nicaea on their homonoia coin issues is presented by iconography of the tuna fish which was not very characteristic for the coinage of that city.87

A very high proportion of the known homonoiai are believed to have been promoted on economic terms. The examples with Ephesus and Alexandria are applicable to this. For instance, Ephesus was the chief port of Asia and important banking center and as such it exercised concord with other major and important ports78 and some cities from inland.79 Its policy in this aspect is very similar to the other important trade center in the Eastern Mediterranean – Alexandria which acted incidentally.80 Some are the homonoiai promoted by the Thracian cities explicable mostly in economic terms. To this group the concord between Perinthos and Cyzicus, Perinthos and Nicomedia, Ephesus and Smyrna respectively are attributed.81 Perinthos has issued homonoia coins with Nicomedia, Ephesus, and Smyrna and L. Robert suggested the economic terms for main reason for it.82 The skepticism here arises since the Bithynian cities and especially Nicomedia were very well established partners including in trade with Perinthos long before the date of homonoia coinage which was issued during the reign of Gordian III. The practice of homonoia had already been introduced in Perinthos at that time and the question is: why these important trade connections

Reconciliation One of the most common known reasons for announcing homonoia is reconciliation between two cities after a dispute or even a rivalry between them mostly about titulature, and status in the province. Various examples from the cities in Asia Minor reveal the nature of this type of homonoia in epigraphic, numismatic and literary sources. They show that the advertising of Concord actually put an end of the dispute about the status, title, recognition etc.88 What makes impression is that in some cases the provincial governor and even the emperor was involved.89 We are aware of such homonoia claimed in Thrace and not surprisingly between the most privileged and important cities in the province – Perinthos and Philippopolis. An official inscription was discovered in

For the date of the issues with the name of Flavius Ulpianus in 210211 – see Ботева 1997, 61-62. 74  The existence of the coinage may be put under question since no photo, but drawing made by a traveler has been published so far. 75  Jurukova 1981, 17. 76  See Юрукова 1987, 15; on the date – Ботева 1997, 118. 77  On this – see Topalilov 2007 and the bibliography cited there. 78  Alexandria (Gordian III) – Head 1964b, 112-115; Apamea (3rd c.); Sardis (Caracalla or M. Aurelius) – see Head 1964b, 112; Laodicea (Commodus), Cyzicus (Ant. Pius) – Wroth 1964, 60; Miletus (M. Aurelius) – Head 1964b, 202 79  Hierapolis (L. Verus-Commodus, Philipp I, Valerian) – Head 1964a, 257-264; Pergamum (Ant. Pius -with Smyrna; Commodus) – Head 1964b, 110; Smyrna (Domitian) – Head 1964b, 110-112; Magnesia (Caracalla) – Head 1964b, 174. 80  See the bibliography cited in Sheppard 1984-1986, 232, n. 25. 81  See Robert 1989, 291, n. 51; 292 ff.; Sheppard 1984-1986, 233. 82  Robert, 1989, 291; Sheppard 1984-1986, 232-233; Head 1964b, 302. 73 

I would like to remind here the case of the trade between the cities in Bithynia-Pontus and the cities of the Bosporan kingdom in Crimea which apparently were not marked by homonoia – see Sheppard 19841986, 233, n. 28. 84  Aristides, On Concord with the Nicaeans, XXXVIII 22, 26-31. 85  Franke 1968, 16-17 (non vidi) cited by Sheppard 1984-1986, 234, n. 36. 86  Schönert-Geiss 1972, 22. 87  Schönert-Geiss 1972, 128, №№ 1872-1876 (time of Gallienus in 253268). 88  See the examples cited in Sheppard 1984-1986, 233-234. 89  See SIG3 849 II. 8-14; Sheppard 1984-1986, 234-235. 83 


The political propaganda of the cities of Thrace and the Asianic provinces

Philippopolis which belonged to the base of a statue set by the Council and Demos of Philippopolis for the Demos of Perinthos for its ‘good will and concord’.90 The date of the inscription is probably Trajanic time.91

all of them. Whatever or not, the important is the fact itself of such homonoia between the two institutions, the only one attested of this type among the cities in Thrace.

The inscription has already been discussed in the literature and it seems that this is not merely a declaration of friendship. As N. Sharankov pointed out its appearance may be due to happy end after a quarrel occasioned by granting privileges or title and other one’s disadvantage, recently made. I can add that this was a happy end only for Philippopolis as no sign of this Concord is attested on the Perinthian coinage and epigraphic material.

With the Senate of Rome There is one more homonoia, attested only in Philippopolis so far. In inscription found in the city homonoia between the boule and demos of Philippopolis and the Senate in Rome is mentioned.98 The participation of the Senate of Rome as one side of homonoia is not a rare practice,99 and this act may be regarded as an expression of the loyalty of the citizens of Philippopolis to Rome, Roman world and order.

As mentioned above, the quarrel was about the title of metropolis which would recognize the city as the seat of the koinon in Thrace.92 Whether the emperor himself was involved in solving the problem as suggested93 is unclear, but statue of Ti. Claudius Sacerdos Iulianus honoured as evergetes of the metropolis suggests that it was the provinvial governor rather than the emperor himself who solved the problem in favor of Philippopolis.94

The cult of the ‘Founder’ The celebration of the cult of the ‘founder’ (κτίστης) among of the most important aspects of the political propaganda of each city. In some cases in the Roman period it is in fact a continuation of a pre-Roman tradition, while in others – a new one, depending on the long history of the city.

It should be noted that it was the demos and boule of Philippopolis that declared the Concord while it was only the demos of Perinthos on the other side.

On other hand, however, it seems that this is also a politic encouraged by the Roman provincial administration to strengthen the society itself and the link to Rome and the emperors. Both conceptions are clearly distinguished in Roman Thrace because some of the cities have pre-Roman history, while others were in fact built ex novo. It is not however only on these criteria that the cities can be distinguished as they belong also to different groups. When studying the question under discussion here one should not compare for instance the development of the inner cities such as Augusta Traiana and those on the coast – Aegean, Pontic or of Sea of Marmara. As we will see both groups developed in different way, although some interlacement of the practices and similarities may be observed between them. The difference is not only due to the ‘long’ and not so long history of the city, but also its location and links with other cities, including such from other provinces, mostly neighbor ones and especially the Asianic which also impacted on various features of the ‘founder’ cult.

Within the City Another type of homonoia seems to have been celebrated in Philippopolis as the local coinage reveals. Thus, a special homonoia coin with the image of Geta as Augustus was issued presenting male and female personification of Demos and Boule respectively shaking hands with legend ΔΗΜΟΣ/ ΒΟΥΛΗ.95 The grounds for this coin issue remain unclear; it remains even unclear whether any tension between these two institutions existed or whether it was just a merely goodwill issue. Similar cases allow suggesting that it might be due to a quarrel between public bodies in the city,96 between the Assembly and Council or because of a changing influence amongst the Assembly of Philippopolis,97 or even in connection with the Pythian games that were held in the city in the following year, organized this time not by Philippopolis, but by the koinon of the Thracians etc. One can find arguments for

Before starting, however, some remarks should be done on the nature of the evidence we possess, namely epigraphic monuments, coins issues and in some cases the literary sources.

Ἡ βουλὴ{ι} καὶ ὁ/ [δήμ]ος τὸν Περίν-/[θιον δήμο]ν τὸν/ἀδελ[φὸν τῆς δι-]/ηνεκοῦς εὐνο[ί]-/ας καὶ ὁμονοίας/ χάριν/ ἐτείμεσεν’- see Sharankov 2005b, 58-59. 91  Sharankov 2005b, 58-59. 92  Sharankov 2007a, 521. 93  Sharankov 2007a, 521. 94  See the discussion above. 95  Мушмов 1924, 270, № 453. 96  See the cases in Nikaia and Nicomedia – Dio XXXIV, 16, 21; Sheppard 1984-1986 243, n. 100. 97  See the cases in Sheppard 1984-1986 244 ff. 90 

IGBulg V, 5434: ἀγαθῆι τύχηι./ οἴκωι τῶν Σεβαστῶν καὶ/ἱερᾷ συνκλήτωι καὶ δήμῳ/ τῷ Ῥωμαίων βουλῇ τε καὶ/ δήμῳ Φιλιπποπολειτῶν/θεᾷ Δήμητρι καὶ Κόρῃ καὶ/ τοῖς συνήθεσι τῆς ὁμονοίας/ τὸν βωμὸν Τιβ(έριος) Κλ(αύδιος) Κλαυδια-/[νὸς] Κ̣υ̣ιντ̣ιλλι̣α̣νὸ̣ καὶ Τιβ(έριος)/ Κ̣(αύδιος) Οὐάριος Κυιντιλλιανὸς ὁ υἱὸς/αὐτοῦ ἐκ τῶν ἰδίων ἀνέθηκαν. 99  See the examples in IG XII, 13, 324; probably in Ephesos (IEph 1479), TAM IV 1, 25; 34. 98 


Ivo Topalilov One of the most common way to present the ‘founder’ in Roman Thrace is by the emissions of Roman provincial coinage issued for a certain town or city. Thus, we find coin issues with image of personage – divine or not, with the legend ΚΤΙCΤΗC100/ ΚΤΙCΙC and ΤΟΝ ΚΤΙCΤΗΝ,101 but also with the imperial gentilicium as epithet in the city-title, such as Ulpia for example.102 It is without doubt that the case with the imperial gentilicium came from the Latinspeaking provinces and this makes Thrace unique – a Latin practice used in a Greek-speaking province for the peregrine cities.103 When studying the case, it seems that two groups may be clearly divided: a group where the Trajanic gentilicium appeared from the very beginning of the coinage itself and another one where the gentilicium appeared later.104 In the first group one may add Pautalia, Anchialos, and probably Nicopolis ad Nestum and Serdica (?), while in the second – Topeiros. In the first group Ulpia appears on the coin issues from the very beginning or almost of the coinage, while in second group – in a specific time later. The case of Topeiros has already been discussed and it is suggested that the use of Ulpia in 211-212 AD coins was well connected with an imperial visit and by that manifestation the local magistrates ‘reminded’ the emperor about his benefactions made more than a century ago in the time of Trajan which concern land expansion of Topeiros by truncation of the territory of the neighbouring Abdera.105 It is surely that the appearance of Οὐλπία in the title of ἡ Τοπειριτῶν πόλις has nothing to do with the civic status.106

discussion here. They are usually used in this aspect due to the presumption that the pseudo-tribe of the veteran mentioned in nomenclature on them would have derived from the official title of his hometown.107 This is going well with the veterans originated from Roman colonies and municipia, although not in every case. Different matter is, however, with the peregrine cities and towns in Thrace and where this practice has not been strictly followed.108 In most cases the information we obtain from these pseudo-tribes contradicts or at least do not find any confirmation in the cities themselves. For instance, the case with Ulpia Philippopolis/109 Ulpia Trimontium110 is very indicative in this respect as Philippopolis has no epithet in the official title of the city on the official inscriptions set up by the local magistrates or elsewhere. And Philippopolis is not the only such case. In fact, it was only on the official inscriptions of three cities that the imperial name is to be found – Nicopolis as Istrum, Anchialos and Abdera. In the former the Trajanic gentilicium Οὐλπία appeared in the city-title of Nicopolis ad Istrum (Οὐλπίας Νικοπόλιτων πρὀς Ἲστρον) from the very beginning111 while in the title of Anchialos as early as 204-207 AD as a statue dedicated to Caracalla set up by (ἡ κρατίστη]/ βουλὴ καὶ ὁ λαμπρότατος δῆμος Οὐλπιανῶν Ἀγχ[ιαλέων) reveals.112 The case of Abdera is unique so far in Thrace, although usual for the Greek-speaking provinces, with the use of the imperial cognomen, in this case of Hadrian, as the inscriptions of two statues set up by ἡ Ἀδριανέων Ἀβδηρειτῶν πόλις dated to 131-132 AD reveal.113 What makes impression in these cases is that Nicopolis ad Istrum ceased to use this epithet after a visit made by Caracalla and Julia Domna in 211 AD, probably because of a punishment,114 in Anchialos it appeared relatively late – not before 204207,115 while in Abdera – it appeared only in 131/132 AD. By this act, however, Anchialos is the only coastal city, along with Byzantion,116 that honoured in a way the emperor as a ‘founder’. It seems that as a part of the province of Thrace, the municipal élite at Anchialos has been influenced and accepted that practice and Ulpia appeared on the coins issued for Anchialos at the time of Antoninus Pius.117

The epigraphic monuments that would be under consideration when studying the topic may be divided also in two major groups – these where κτίστης is clearly mentioned and others where the founder’s name appeared in the city-title as an epithet. The latter group needs some comments. Among the inscriptions which contain in one form or another the epithet added to the city-title one would distinguish the public from private inscriptions of various type, military laterculi and especially those of the praetorians set up in Rome on occasion of their honesta missio, but also military diplomas. It is worth mentioning that the inscriptions with military character such as the laterculi and military diplomas would not provide a proper data on the question under

It is therefore logical to carry the study further only relying on the official inscriptions set up by the local authorities; we have no any inscription of this On the pseudo-tribe in general – see Forni 1985. See on this Topalilov 2016; see also on various cases – Topalilov 2015a. 109  CIL 16, 189: M(arco) Aurelio M(arci) f(ilio) UIp(ia) Potenti/ Philippopoli. 110  See for instance CIL 6, 37 184. 111  See the numerous inscriptions cited in IGBulg. II. 112  IGBulg I2, 369; on this date of the statue – see Boteva 1998, 134-135. 113  I. Aeg. Thrace 78, 79. 114  Topalilov 2007. 115  See also Топалилов 2018. 116  For Ἀντωνία πόλις – see Schönert-Geiss 1972, 2, n. 10. 117  See Topalilov 2018. 107 

See for example the legend ΗΡΑΚΛΗC ΚΤΙCΤΗC which appeared on the coins issued for Perinthos between 193-218 and later – Schönert 1965, 121-123, № 197-202. 101  See for instance for Hadrianopolis – Юрукова 1987, 242-244, № 705-713 with the image of Hercules. 102  It is to be found on the coin emission issued for Anchialos, Serdica, Pautalia, Topeiros and Nicopolis ad Nestum. 103  See for this Galsterer-Kröll 1972, 55-56. 104  Topalilov 2015. 105  On the land expansion of Topeiros by truncation of the territory of Abdera – see Adams 1986, 35-36. 106  Topalilov 2013.




The political propaganda of the cities of Thrace and the Asianic provinces

kind found so far set up by the Roman provincial administration.

mark of the ‘city established by the Optimus Princeps’. With this high authority, Nicopolis ad Istrum gained its primary position among the newly established cities and therefore become an example for imitation. Since however, its establishment was linked to Trajan while the rest of the cities were found as a consequence of the administrative reform which was accomplished during the time of Trajan, they were not allowed to add Ulpia in their official inscriptions, but just on the coin issues.122 It is also probably why the imperial gentilicium and not cognomina appeared – the new cities simply followed the practice advanced by Nicopolis ad Istrum in Thrace unlike the old ones, such as for instance Abdera.

After this short review of major specificities of the sources, let us turn to the main point of this section – the spread and specificities of the ‘founder’ cult among the cities in Roman Thrace. The development of Byzantium is not correlated with those of the Thracian cities, so this example will be excluded from the study.118 When studying the nature of the ‘founder’ cult three groups of cities may be clearly distinguished. The differences of the features between them are due to various factors such as urbanistic traditions, level of Hellenisation and/or Romanisation of the particular society with all the specificities and uncertainty that could be applied to these terms, geographic location especially coastal or not, and the location in close proximity of a provincial capital or other urbanistic center such as Byzantion for example, specificities of the municipal élite, close links to centers in the Asianic provinces etc.

To this group honouring the Roman emperor as ‘Founder’ of the city should be added also Hadrianopolis and Marcianopolis. It is known that the former city was established in one of the visits of Hadrian in Thrace,123 probably the earliest one as a coin issue implies. Thus, on an issue dated to 125 AD a legend ΚΤΙCΤΗC/ ΑΔΡΙΑΝΟC is cited.124 By this act, it seems that the old peregrine settlement of Uscudama125 received the status of civitas stipendiarae. The case with Marcianopolis is more obscured as the undisputed Trajanic origin of the city is attested for first time in Late Antiquity by the legend of Maroneia, the sister of the emperor.126 The only problem is that Marcianopolis is missing in Claudius Ptolemaeus’ Geographia where even the road stations are presented.127 The late development of the city allows the thesis that it was consecrated during Hadrian’s time. The absence of Marcianopolis in the list of Claudius Ptolemaeus may show that it was established by Hadrian, in the very beginning of his reign, and dedicated to the sister of his predecessor. In fact, it is not the only city in Thrace being established in the time of early Hadrian and dedicated to Trajan – Augusta Traiana is the first that come to mind, but Plotinopolis and/or Traianopolis also can be attributed to it.

The successful Trajanic Dacian wars as well as the high level of Romanisation of the provincial élite of Thrace led to the accomplishment of an administrative reform by the imperial authorities which caused the entrustment of very much of the government to the local élite.119 Accordingly, the status of the province changed and Thrace now was governed by a legatus Augusti pro praetore. We have no evidence of the exact date of it, but it was done between 106-112 when the first legate is attested.120 As a result, an urbanistic outbreak followed and some peregrine cities were established in the province – some of them by granting the civic status of already existing settlements, while others were built ex novo. Logically, these cities would promote their origin from the Optimus Princeps. This link was usually provided by the addition of Trajanic gentilicium to the city-title. The case of Οὐλπίας Νικοπόλιτων πρὀς Ἲστρον (Nicopolis ad Istrum) illustrates this well. If we go further in this case, we should ask the questions why only Nicopolis ad Istrum and Anchialos are allowed to use the imperial gentilicium in their official inscriptions and why the imperial gentilicium, but not the cognomina as should be expected in Greek-speaking provinces?

The second group consists of the coastal cities on Aegean and Black Sea coasts, as well as that of Marmara. In this group Maroneia, Abdera, Anchialos, Messambria and in some sense Perinthos should be included. All of them have pre-Roman tradition in the aspect of the foundation myth in most cases linked with the cult to the oikist, or the Eponymous hero. In the provincial capital the hero ΠΕΡΙΝΘΟC is attested for first time on

I would suggest that Οὐλπία was used instead of Traiana or Ulpia Traiana for instance because of the specificities of early development of Nicopolis ad Istrum and Thrace. Although located within the province of Thrace, it was more connected with the Lower Danube province and not surprisingly later was shifted to it. This combined with the well-established link between Trajan and the town121 made the use of Οὐλπία as a

Topalilov 2015, 155-175. Sadly, the main idea advanced in this study escaped the attention of L. Mrozewicz when writing the review of the book in which this study was included- see Mrozewicz 2016, 275. 123  See Ioan. Malal. Chronographia 11, 20; Lamprid. Vita Heliogabali VII, 4 ff. 124  Юрукова 1987, 118, № 5. 125  The ancient sources reveal that the Roman city inherited the earlier settlement named Uscudama – Amm. Marc. XIV, 11, 15; XXVII, 12; Ruf. Fest. 9 126  See Gerov 1975 for the legend and analysis. 127  Cl. Ptol. III, 11, 7. 122 

On Byzantium – see Robu 2014. See on this reform – Тачева 2004; Геров 1980. 120  It is Iuventus Celsus – Thomasson 2009, 22:10. 121  See on this Amm. Marc. XXXI, 5; Iordanes, Get., 101. 118  119 


Ivo Topalilov coin issue with the head of Marcus Aurelius as Caesar on the averse,128 dated mostly probably in 155 AD.129 It continued in the time of Severans,130 dated probably between 193-196 AD131 and later on a medallion of Alexander Severus’s time, both – legendary and eponymous ‘founder’ of the city are presented.132 On the provincial coinage for Abdera in the time of Antoninus Pius, probably simultaneously with that of Perinthos, appeared also the eponymous hero of the city – ΑΒΔ℮ΡΟC.133 It is believed that Abderos was a son of Poseidon and Tronia or Hermes.134 Unlike ΠΕΡΙΝΘΟC, however, ΑΒΔ℮ΡΟC was not constantly presented either on epigraphic neither monuments nor coins issues.

This tradition should not be regarded as an isolated act by the local municipal élites. The simultaneous appearance of the eponymous hero in all of them allows suggestion that it was in fact a part of a trend that was advanced at the same time in all of them. By this, these élites accompanied the élites of other coastal cities such as Tomis and Byzantion on which autonomous coinage the head of TOMOC, and consequently TOMOC KTICTHC142 and of BYZAC143 respectively appeared. The evidence we are aware of up to now give no clue about the reasons for such increase of popularity of eponymous hero – founder to be spread almost at the same time, i. e. in the time of Antoninus Pius, or very late Hadrianic time, in major coastal cities of Thrace and Lower Moesia.

It is most likely that in that time ΑΝΧΙΑΛΟC also appeared on the autonomous coinage of Anchialos.135 Like the case in Perinthos, the head of the eponymous hero continued to be presented on the autonomous coin issues at least until the time of Severans.136

In the third group one would find the cases of Bizye, Hadrianopolis, Philippopolis and possibly Perinthos. This is the group the foundation myth of whose members has been atticised after the Second sophistic’s trend. The cases that follow make the things clear.144

It is clear that the pre-Roman tradition of worship the eponymous hero Maron in Maroneia137 continued into the Roman period. His presence on the epigraphic monuments and coin issues, however, is missing or obscure.138

According to Solin (3rd c.), it is believed that Bizye had tie connection with the Thracian hero Tereus being its property.145 If it is not to be confused here with the Thracian king Teres, the link with Tereus implies also a link with Phocidia and Athens,146 but mostly Thebes. It is suggested that the ‘The banquet scene with Asclepius and Hygieia’ presented on some coin emissions issued for the city, might be interpreted as the myth of Tereus147 which is not certain. Nonetheless, the tradition presented by Solin reveals that the municipal élite insisted on a proper link with Greece and its ancient heroes. The turning of the hero as Thracian could be due to the composition of the municipal élite with its Thracian element being descendants of the old Thracian metropolitan aristocracy or pretended to be so.

Another city with pre-Roman tradition in honouring the eponymous hero is Messambria. As I. Karayotov reveal on basis of the silver and bronze coinage of the city, it seems that on the coin emissions issued up to 4th c. BC the head of Melsas, the founder of the colony was depicted in Corinthian helmet.139 Later, some more information on this cult also appeared in the written narratives.140 In the middle of 2nd c. AD a funerary inscription of a certain Iulia again mentions Melsas as a ‘founder’ of the city.141 The date of this stele coincides with such cases in Perinthos and Abdera. This case, however, is the only one known so far attested on epigraphic monuments.

Identical process is to be observed in Philippopolis. It is accepted in the literature that it was Philip II of Macedon after who the city received its name – Philippopolis.148 The sources reveal that 183/182 BC during his campaign in Thrace the Macedonian king Philipp V siege and captured ‘Φιλιππού πολις’.149 And this is the earliest evidence in which Φιλιππούπολις is mentioned. The lack of τοῦ Άμύντου in the name of Philip in Polybius’s text, however, allows suggestion that it was Philip V, and not Philip II, who was the founder of the city. The text of Tacitus is also of not much help concerning this question,150 but it may be

Schönert 1965, № 411-418; Taf. 22. Топалилов 2016, 369 on the grounds for this dating. 130  Schönert 1965, 122, № 203. 131  See for this date – Топалилов 2016, 370. 132  Топалилов 2016, 370, fig. 5. 133  Топалилов 2016, 376, fig. 8. 134  Chryssanthaki 2001, 385. 135  Топалилов 2016, 379. 136  See the examples cited in Димова 2015, 16-19, 25. 137  See for instance SEG 35: 823: [ἱ]ερέω̣ [ς Διὸς καὶ Ῥώμης Διονύσου καὶ Μάρωνος. 138  See on this and a possible coin with the image of this hero issued in the time of Nero – Топалилов 2017, 378. 139  See Karayotov 2009. 140  They are discussed in Nawotka 1994, 320-326. 141  See IGBulg I2, 345: ἐνθάδε ἐγὼ κεῖμε Ἑκάτη/ θεὸς ὡς ἐσορᾷς ∙ | ἤμην τὸ/ πάλαι βροτός, νῦν δὲ ἀθάνα-/ τος καὶ ἀγήρως ∙ | Ἰουλία Νεικίου/ θυγάτηρ μεγαλήτορος ἀνδρός,/ Μεσεμβρία (sic) δέ μυ (sic) πατρὶς ἀπὸ/ [Μ(?)]έλσα καὶ βρία ∙ | ζήσασα ἔτη ὅσα/ μοι στήλη κατέχει ∙ | τρὶς πέντε/ δὲ̣  [ε]ἴκοσι καὶ δέκα πέντε. |/ εὐτυχεῖτε ∙ παροδῖται. 128  129 

Pick 1898, 669, № 2555. See Schönert 1972, n. 2032. A special study is devoted to this by the author. 145  Solin. 10, 17-23. 146  Thuc. II, 29. 147  NAC 2009, 187. 148  See latest in Topalilov 2012, 293 and the bibliography cited thereDelev 2015, 50-51. 149  Polyb. XXIII, 8. 150  Tac. Ann. III, 38: a Macedono Philippo. 142  143  144 


The political propaganda of the cities of Thrace and the Asianic provinces

the statement of Theopompus revealing the earliest history of the city: ἔστι δέ τις καὶ περὶ Θρᾴκην Πονηρόπολις, ἣν Φιλιππόν ϕασι συνοικίσαι.151 It is here under discussion if this should be applied to Philippopolis or Cabyle, which has also been attested with such name.152 If we accept for a moment that it is about Philippopolis, two chronological layers are distinct